Three Hallows' Eve || Harmione & Jily

Chapter 16.3

With that, she turned and opened a door to their left, and the noise of the hall grew louder yet before falling to a near silence in an instant. The first years followed her, calmly, as they got their first view of the Hogwarts Great Hall. Several of Harry's classmates around him gasped softly at the sight, and their awe was not unwarranted. The hall was simply marvellous, with hundreds of candles floating overhead casting a soft, almost ethereal orange glow over the whole room. There were four long tables which stretched the length of the hall, all bedecked with golden plates, goblets, and cutlery, with a daunting amount of students sitting about them.

At the front, a long table ran perpendicular to the students' tables, and the professors sat behind. Some smiled genially at the new students while many looked pointedly neutral. Hundreds of eyes watched as Professor McGonagall led them towards the front. To avoid the stares of students and professors alike, Harry looked to his left to find Hermione staring up at the ceiling in wonder - or much rather, the lack thereof.

Above the wooden rafters, the ceiling was charmed to look just like the sky above it, making the stars of the night sky visible from within. Harry leaned closer to Hermione and whispered, 'When I met Bathilda Bagshot over the summer, she told me that the charmwork for the ceiling took Rowena Ravenclaw even longer than the Ravenclaw tower door-knocker.'

Hermione's gaze whipped down to meet his at a comical rate, and she levelled him with a challenging glare. 'You didn't tell me you met Bathilda Bagshot,' she hissed accusingly.

'I'll tell you about it later,' he replied in an attempt to forestall any further complaints.

They came to a stop at the front of the hall in front of a four-legged stool, atop which sat the Sorting Hat. He'd read about it, of course, but Hogwarts: a History had been uncharacteristically light on the details. Ms Bagshot and Mum also hadn't been very forthcoming when he'd asked them about it either, so really he knew very little beyond the fact that it was in some way charmed by the Founders to sort the students of Hogwarts in their stead.

What little whispering and muttering that had continued through the first-years' entry died down to nothing as all eyes turned to the hat. A few moments of pregnant silence elapsed before the hat twitched, and a tear right along it's brim opened up like a mouth and began to sing:

'I may look like a dusty hat,
Dirty, down-and-out,
But if you think that's all I am,
I'll be a bit put-out.

For when you put me on your head,
I'll show you what I've got.
Pure-blood, half-blood, Muggle-born,
See, I've sorted the whole lot!

Yes, I'm the biggest deal around,
Whatever I say goes.
Regarding which house you belong to,
I'm the one who knows.

Are you like brazen Godric,
Who never refused a fight?
If you leap before you look,
Then Gryffindor is your right!

Or are you more like Helga,
Who brought all her friends along?
If you feel numb without a chum,
In Hufflepuff you belong!

Oh what about Rowena,
Whose knowledge was the key?
If in a tome you find your home,
A Ravenclaw you'll be!

And don't forget dear Salazar,
The craftiest of all.
If you think you're guileful,
Then let Slytherin enthral.

So roll on up! Come one, come all!
Come, place me on your head!
The matter of your sorting, yes!
I'll put it right to bed.'

There was another moment of silence once the Sorting Hat had finished its song, this one much more awkward than the last. Finally, a hesitant series of claps from Professor Dumbledore spurred the rest of the hall into a very tentative round of applause. Looking around at the older students, Harry saw a good number of the students trading strange looks with one another before the applause dwindled down.