Heir to the Moon (V2)

II.III Sorting

The door burst open immediately, revealing a tall witch with long black hair in emerald-green robes. Her expression was stern, and Harry initially thought she was not someone to mess with.

"These are the first years, Professor McGonagall," announced Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will escort them to their destination," replied Professor McGonagall calmly.

As the group of first-year students followed Professor McGonagall, Harry couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. The towering castle of Hogwarts stood majestically against the starry night sky, its windows glowing with warm light. The sight was both awe-inspiring and slightly intimidating.

Professor McGonagall led them through the massive oak front doors and into the expansive Entrance Hall. The grandeur of Hogwarts was immediately apparent; the high ceilings, the floating candles, and the intricate stonework all spoke of ancient magic and history.

Before they proceeded to the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall turned to address the students. Her voice was firm, yet there was a hint of warmth in it. "Welcome to Hogwarts. Shortly, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting Ceremony is a very important tradition here, as your house will be like your family during your time at Hogwarts."

Harry glanced at Daphne and Neville, sensing their shared anticipation. This was the moment they had all been waiting for – the Sorting Ceremony, where they would find out which house they would belong to for the next seven years.

They entered the Great Hall, and Harry was immediately taken aback by the sight. The ceiling, enchanted to look like the night sky, was a dazzling display of stars and floating candles. Four long tables, each representing a Hogwarts house, were filled with students of all ages, their faces a mix of curiosity and excitement as they watched the new arrivals.

Professor McGonagall placed a stool at the front of the hall and set an old, patched hat on top of it. The hat suddenly twitched and a rip near the brim opened like a mouth – the Sorting Hat was about to sing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats are sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you have a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin,
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The hall erupted in applause as the Sorting Hat finished its song. The first years, including Harry, Daphne, and Neville, looked around with wide eyes, the reality of the moment sinking in.