CRIMSON TEARS | Harry Potter and the Philospher's Stone [1]

𝗶𝘃 | 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗶𝗻𝗴

A woman, who had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, had left the first years in a chamber behind the great oak doors. A ripple of chatter erupted between them as soon as they were alone, questions and excitement emerging from all the first years' mouths.

  Gwen found herself admiring the chamber. The room was beautiful. The stone walls were shaped in beams arching toward the ceiling and meeting right above their heads at a point.

  Ron leaned over to her. 'We have to get sorted in front of the whole school?' He seemed nervous.

  'That's what the lady said,' she said. The two exchanged a look. 'I'm sure it will be fine. Everyone does it. It's a school tradition.'

  'That's right,' Hermione piped from behind her. 'I've read about it. All first years do the Sorting Ceremony in front of the whole school.'

  Harry, who had been quiet up until this point, gave her a look. 'I'm not sure I like that.'

  Gwen smiled. 'It will be fine. You'll get sorted and sit down. It's quite fun, I've been told.'

  A group of students from the back of the chamber screamed. Gwen jumped, spinning to face them, noticing the pearly white, transparent ghosts streaming through the back wall. They seemed to be arguing over something. One ghost, wearing a long medieval style dress, was talking to a monk about second chances.

  'We've given Peeves enough chances, don't you think...'

  She trailed off as silence fell over the room. The ghosts had suddenly noticed the first years staring at them.

  'First years!' The monk ghost cried, his transparent face beaming. 'About to be sorted, yes? Let's hope we get a good few Hufflepuffs, my old house, you know.'

A sharp voice rang through the chamber. 'Move along now.' Professor McGonagall had returned. Gwen noticed her green robes and black hair, pulled back into a bun. She appeared slightly intimidating, but there was something about her that was quite likeable. 'The Sorting Ceremony is about to start.' The ghosts began to float away, through the opposite wall.

  'Form a line,' McGonagall said, 'and follow me.'

  Clumsily, the first years assembled themselves into a line. Gwen followed Hermione, Ron and Harry having already found themselves a space in the line, and the two girls fell into place.

  They followed McGonagall back through the chamber toward the great oak doors. They opened, and before them, was the Great Hall.

  It was even more beautiful than Gwen had imagined it. Four long tables filled with students, lined with gold plates and goblets and cutlery. Thousands of candles floated above the tables, bathing the hall in a warm glow. Gwen craned her neck, scanning all the students on the tables. Green, she thought. Look for the green robes.