"Welcome to Hogwarts. My name is Professor McGonagall," the witch said, "and I shall take you into the Sorting Ceremony in just a few moments. Please wait here." She had led them into the Entrance Hall, and they were to wait outside an enormous pair of double oak doors. Orla could hear chattering inside. Chattering coming from hundreds of children. She looked at Draco, whose already pale face had paled a little more. Crabbe and Goyle weren't much better.
"What do you think we have to do?" she whispered to Draco. He shrugged his shoulders.
"I dunno," he said, "but I don't think it can be too hard. The mudbloods have to have a chance," he grinned. Orla chuckled, and straightened her hair, making sure it wasn't too messy after the long train journey. Professor McGonagall came abck out through the doors.
"They're ready for you," she smiled, leading the way into the room where all the chattering students were sat. Orla gasped. The room they were just in was nothing compared to the room they had just entered. The roof was so high, that she supposed even Malfoy Manor could easily fit inside here. The stars ... wait that couldn't be right, stars? She looked again, trying not to trip over as she made her way in the throng of first-years to the front of the hall. Stars, yes, and shooting stars, and a few wispy clouds. How could that be?
"It's enchanted to look like the night sky." She heard a voice behind her. A shrill, clipped, know-it-all voice, coming from a girl she didn't recognise, with brown bushy hair and large front teeth. "I read all about it, in Hogwarts: A History." There were wall to wall candles, all floating in mid-air. Orla tried to guess how many there were. Thousands, she reckoned. Reaching down from the back to the front of the Hall were four extremely long tables. One for each house, she thought. As they reached the very front, Orla saw a fifth table, stretching across from left to right, where all the teachers were sat, and right in the middle of the table sat an elderly wizard, with a beard almost reaching his toes. He had a smile that seemed to belong to man much younger than his age, and bright blue eyes which glittered like the stars in the ceiling. In front of the teachers's table, on a little three legged stool, was an old witches hat. They all looked at it curiously, then jumped back when it opened up a mouth - which looked like a fray in the fabric - and started singing.
"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 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've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
