Lumos

The Sorting Hat

The platform at Hogsmeade Station was wet and slippery as the frightened first years looked nervously around.

“Firs’ years! Firs’ years, over here!” a booming voice shouted over the heads of the swarming students. Felicity and Ulric fought their way past the older students and toward a giant of a man. He towered over everyone else on the platform and was several times wider than any man. His hair and beard were wild, but his face was kind.

Ulric stumbled and cursed as a tall boy tripped him. “Watch it, Ric,” he said, baring his pearly white teeth in a grin.

“Screw off,” Ulric grumbled, shoving the boy away.

“Mother says to join the first years,” he told Ulric. “We’ll be Sorted like normal.” He turned his blue-eyed gaze to Felicity. “Nervous?”

“A little,” she admitted.

“You look green.”

“I… I heard there’s a test.”

The boy snorted. “Don’t believe everything the Weasleys tell you.” Then he vanished into the crowd, several girls giggling as he breezed past.

“My brother,” said Ulric grudgingly.

“What’s your accent?” Felicity asked curiously. She’d noticed Ulric’s accent wasn’t quite like hers, but his brother’s really stood out.

“French-Canadian,” Ulric explained. “I’d be a second year, but my old school course didn’t quite line up, so I’m basically starting over.”

“At least you have a head start,” said Felicity enviously.

The giant man was speaking again, looking over the flock of first years standing before him, “C’mon, follow me. Any more firs’ years? Mind yer step, now! Firs’ years, follow me!”

He set off down the narrow path, all the first years scrambling to follow him. It was mostly quiet - tensions were high. Felicity saw Neville just ahead, sniffling, and she pulled Ulric forward so she could take Neville’s hand. It made him stop sniffling and also made Felicity feel a little better. She already had two… dare she call them friends?

“Yeh’ll get yer firs’ sight o’ Hogwarts in a sec, jus’ round the bend here,” the giant man called.

There was a collective gasp as they rounded the corner and Hogwarts castle came into view. They were standing on the edge of a great lake with mountains blossoming on the opposite side, upon which sat a magnificent castle. Its many turrets and towers stretched toward the heavens, dark and speckled with warm light from more windows than Felicity could count.

Now there came a scrambling to get into the boats that lined the shore. The giant shouted, “No more’n four to a boat!”

In the crowd, Felicity and Ulric were separated from Neville and ended up in a boat with two girls that were clinging to each other like their lives depended on it. Felicity had barely gotten her seat when the boats were lurching forward, gliding across the glassy lake all by themselves.

They sailed toward the cliff upon which the school sat; the giant shouted, “Heads down!” and they were carried through a curtain of ivy into a concealed tunnel beneath the cliff. They sailed on until they reached an underground dock and began to scramble out of their boats. Felicity laughed softly as the giant called over their heads, “Oy, you there! Is this your toad?” It was the first time she’d seen Neville smile.

The group of first years followed the giant from the dock, down a passageway illuminated only by his lantern, until they emerged right at the base of the castle. He led the way up to the enormous front doors, checked that Neville still had his toad, and then knocked three times on the oak door.

Felicity held her breath as it swung open, revealing a strict-looking, black-haired witch in emerald robes. The few students that had been brave enough to whisper fell silent under her stern gaze and she said quietly, “Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”

They left Hagrid and followed the witch - Professor McGonagall, he’d called her - into an entrance hall even larger than the one in Felicity’s grandmother’s manor. The rumble of many voices drifted through the doors to their right, but Professor McGonagall led them into a small, empty chamber to the left, where she turned to them and said, “Welcome to Hogwarts.”

Felicity glanced at Ulric - he looked calm and she tried to mirror his expression. Professor McGonagall was speaking again, “The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but, before you can take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses.

“The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you’re at Hogwarts, your triumphs will each your house points, while any rule breaking with lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.” Her eyes drifted over the first years, all looking rather pale and frightened, before continuing, “I shall return for you when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.”

Then she was gone. Hermione instantly began jabbering about which spell she might need. Felicity tried to block her out and think about what spells she knew. She remembered, when she was nine, going to London with her mother to audition for a prestigious school for gifted children. She’d been singing a song from Les Miserables and it was the most nervous she’d ever been...until now.

What if, like her audition, she failed to pass and was sent home? She wasn’t sure she could stand the disappointment.

Felicity was just wondering if there were a spell to make everyone forget if she messed up when someone in the back of the group screamed. Whipping around, Felicity’s jaw dropped - more than a dozen transparent people had burst through the far wall, arguing amongst themselves.

“-forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-”

“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?”

The two arguing ghosts, a fat little friar and a man wearing tights and a ruff around his neck, had spotted the first years. No one answered them.

“New students!” the Fat Friar beamed at them. “About to be Sorted, I suppose?” Felicity, along with a few others, nodded. “Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house you know.”

Felicity was about to speak up, to ask them about the Sorting, but a sharp voice cut in- “Move along now.” Professor McGonagall was back. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to start.” As the ghosts began to glide through the opposite wall, she continued, “Now, form a line and follow me.”

Stumbling over her robes, Felicity caught hold of Ulric’s arm as they made a single-file line and marched solemnly back into the entrance hall and through the doors into the Great Hall. Felicity gawked at the spectacle she beheld.

They were in an enormous room, lines with four crowded tables laden with golden goblets and dishes and cramped with students turning for a better look at the first years. In the air above the table drifted thousands of lit candles, simply suspended in midair. Over their heads, where the ceiling should have been, was the night sky, twinkling with stars.

At Felicity’s expression, Hermione whispered, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History.”

They came to a stop at the end of the hall, facing what must have been the teacher’s table. There was a clunk as Professor McGonagall set a wooden stool in front of them and Felicity quickly looked away from the ceiling in time to see her place a ragged wizard’s hat on the stool. It looked ancient and covered in filth, the sort of thing Felicity thought she might find in the bottom of her brother’s wardrobe.

She was just wondering what on earth they were supposed to do with the hat, when a rip near the brim opened like a mouth and the hat burst into song.

“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.”


A wave of relief washed over Felicity - they just had to wear it! But the hat wasn’t finished-

“You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave of 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;

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 burst into applause at the conclusion of the song. It bowed to each table before becoming still and stationary, deceptively just another old hat.

“So we’ve just got to try on the hat!” Felicity heard Harry Potter’s red-headed friend whisper. “I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll!”

It occurred to Felicity that she, too, had gotten some ill-advice from Fred on the matter - she’d have to jinx him later, if she could just figure out which one he was!

Felicity briefly wondered what house she’d be in - she didn’t feel particularly brave, witty, or unafraid at the moment, or any of the things the Sorting Hat had mentioned, though she would’ve bet ten gold Galleons that Hermione would be in Ravenclaw. She knew her uncle expected her to be in Slytherin… but the Sorting Hat had said “you’ll meet your real friends” and, so far, she had no desire to befriend any of the Slytherins she’d met. Looking over her shoulder, she spotted Sebastian and his friends sitting at the table second from the right. He met her gaze for a moment, then looked away.

Professor McGonagall’s voice brought Felicity back to the moment as she said sharply, “When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted.” She read from a long roll of parchment, “Hannah Abbott!”

Felicity watched a girl with blonde pigtails stumble up to the stool, where Professor McGonagall put the hat on her head and it fell past her eyes. There was a brief pause and then the hat shouted to the hall, “HUFFLEPUFF!” The table on the right burst into enthusiastic applause as Hannah took off the hat and joined them.

“Hermione Granger!”

Hermione ran forward and eagerly shoved the hat onto her head. After a minute or two, it declared her, “GRYFFINDOR!” and she hurried off to sit at the table on the far left, where Felicity also spotted Fred and George.

Next came “Kyne Halverson!” Ulric’s brother sauntered forward, looking particularly tall compared to the first years.

“He’s getting to start third year,” Ulric whispered to Felicity.

The Sorting Hat took less than a minute before shouting, “RAVENCLAW!” and sending Kyne off to the second table from the left.

A scary thought occurred to Felicity then - what if Ulric wasn’t in the same house as she was? She gave his hand an extra squeeze as Professor McGonagall called his name and put the hat on his head. It seemed to take forever to make up its mind until, “GRYFFINDOR!”

Felicity’s nerves seemed to peak as she watched Ulric join Hermione and the twins at the Gryffindor table. As her name was called, Felicity cast one more panicked glance around the hall. Looking at the Slytherin table, where she noticed Sebastian’s girlfriend leering at her, Felicity hoped she wouldn’t be sorted into it. The thought was fleeting, however. Her entire family had been in Slytherin, after all, so how could she possibly be put anywhere else?

Her stomach was a tight knot as she approached the stool, sat down, and felt the Sorting Hat slide down over her eyes.

Staring at the dark inside of the hat, Felicity jumped a little as a small voice said in her ear, “Another Black, eh? Straight to Slytherin, am I right?”

No, please, Felicity thought.

“No? Talent, ambition… Slytherin would be the obvious fit, however… There’s a softness, yes, and a touch of courage… Yes, I think… better be GRYFFINDOR!”

The hat shouted out the final word for the hall to hear and Felicity could hardly believe it. She handed the hat to Professor McGonagall and fought the urge to skip over to her seat. Ulric clapped her on the back and George - or was it Fred? - winked at her.

Soon after, Neville was also sorted into Gryffindor. He ran off with Sorting Hat still on his head and had to scurry back to give it to the next person. Malfoy, of course, was sorted into Slytherin, sitting next to Katrina and Sebastian. They looked out at the hall with superior looks that made Felicity glad she hadn’t joined them. Still, when Sebastian looked her way, Felicity turned away before he could catch her eye.

Felicity was so caught up in her thoughts that she almost didn’t hear the whispers as “Harry Potter!” was called. She nearly had to stand up to see as people were leaning this way and that to get a good look at him. To Felicity, he looked like all the other first years - frightened and nose-deep in the Sorting Hat.

Harry sat there for over a minute, hearing the same voice she had heard herself, until the hat shouted, “GRYFFINDOR!” and the table burst into applause around her. Felicity clapped as enthusiastically as the others and watched as Harry collapsed in the seat opposite of the ghost in the ruff. He looked up at his fellow Gryffindors and his eyes met Felicity’s for a second, sharing a look of relief that said, for both of them, we made it.

. . .

When, at last, the final student had been sorted and cheers from the tables died down, the hall sank into silence as an ancient-looking wizard stood from his seat in the middle of the High Table. He beamed down at all the students and held his arms open wide.

“Welcome!” he said in a cheerful voice. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

“Thank you.”

Felicity laughed as she applauded and cheered with the rest of the hall. Ulric leaned over to her and said, “I’ve heard he’s completely mad. Genius, though.” She was just about to reply when the plates before them were suddenly laden with food from nowhere. Steak, bacon, boiled and roasted potatoes, chicken, beef, and more food than Felicity had ever seen in her life. She piled her plate with a bit of everything.

“So, you’re meant to be a second year?” Felicity asked Ulric.

“Yeah. Kyne and me are from Ontario and had to get a transfer. Mom got offered a really great job in Wales, though, so she packed us up and moved us here.”

“Where did you go to school before?”

“Ilvermorny. It’s in the States.”

“Do they have houses, like Hogwarts?”

“Yeah. Kyne was in the Horned Serpent house, so no surprise he’s in Ravenclaw here. I was in Pukwudgie.”

Felicity snorted into her goblet. “What does that mean?”

“All the Ilvermorny houses are based on animals, so…” Ulric shrugged. “Supposedly, Pukwudgies make good healers.”

“Interesting,” said Felicity. “Wait, so you’re Canadian. Do you speak French?”

Ulric grinned. “Non. Um… un peu.” Felicity looked blankly at him and he translated, “A bit. I didn’t think I needed it.”

“How about your brother?”

“Oh, yeah. He’s fluent in French, Spanish, German… If you can speak it, he probably knows it.”

“Is he your only sibling?”

Ulric’s face darkened. “No. I had a brother and sister, but they’re both dead.”

Whatever Felicity had been expecting, that wasn’t it. “I’m… I’m so sorry.”

“It was a long time ago,” he said casually. Too casually. “They were in a car crash. Still got Mom and Kyne, though...but he’s really hard to live with, sometimes.”

“Why?”

“He’s just too… I dunno, cavalier about the whole thing.”

“Sorry, what’s ‘cavalier’ mean?”

“Like...careless. Like it doesn’t bother him that they’re gone.”

“I’m sure that’s not true.” Felicity looked over Ulric’s shoulder at the Ravenclaw table. Kyne was talking animatedly to a curly-haired boy who looked about his age. “Maybe he’s really good at hiding it.”

“He doesn’t act like someone who cares,” Ulric insisted. “I think about them every day, try to be careful and logical for Mom’s sake, but he… he takes all these risks. He’s trying out for Quidditch. Do you have any idea how dangerous Quidditch is?”

Felicity bit her lip - she’d been thinking about trying out next year. “I guess so, but… aren’t we supposed to, you know, live our life to the fullest.”

“Not in my opinion, but he can do whatever he wants. I’ll take care of Mom when he breaks his neck falling off a broomstick.”

Felicity was spared the effort of continuing this conversation when Ron, Harry’s redhaired friend, exclaimed, “I know who you are! My brothers told me about you - you’re Nearly Headless Nick!”

He was talking to the ghost in tights, who was sitting next to Harry. Nick looked flustered and said, “I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-”

But he was interrupted by a boy named Seamus Finnigan asking, “Nearly Headless? How can you be nearly headless?”

Sir Nicholas, looking annoyed, said roughly, “Like this.” Then, with a tug on his left ear, his head flopped onto his shoulder, held on by a scrap of remaining skin. Felicity didn’t know whether to laugh or throw up - both were extremely tempting.

His ill temper seeming to quell itself, Sir Nicholas popped his head back into place, coughed, and said, “So, new Gryffindors! I hope you’re going to help us win the house championship this year? Gryffindors have never gone so long without winning. Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost unbearable - he’s the Slytherin ghost.”

Felicity looked over at the Slytherin table, where a blood-covered ghost had sat himself directly between Malfoy and Sebastian, neither of whom seemed too pleased with the seating arrangements. Fighting a grin, Felicity turned back to her empty plate. Most of the other students were just finishing up. Down the table, Fred and George were talking to a black boy in hushed tones and Felicity couldn’t help thinking they were planning some sort of mischief.

Eventually, everyone had eaten their fill and the food faded from the plates, leaving them spotlessly clean, as if they hadn’t been host to piles of food just seconds earlier. But then desserts appeared –– chunks of ice cream in every flavor imaginable, pies, treacle tarts, eclairs, doughnuts, trifle, a heap of mixed berries, a dozen different flavors of Jello...it was more sweets than Felicity had ever seen in her life.

She helped herself to everything she could reach - chocolate ice cream, a handful of eclairs, a scoop of enormous strawberries, and a spoonful of every flavor of Jello - as people began to talk about their families.

“I’m half-and-half,” Seamus was saying. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mom’s a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out.”

“What about you, Neville?” Ron asked.

“Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch,” Neville said quietly, “but the family thought I was all-Muggle for ages. My Great Uncle Algie kept trying to catch me off my guard and force some magic out of me - he pushed me off the end of Blackpool pier once, I nearly drowned - but nothing happened until I was eight. Great Uncle Algie came round for dinner, and he was hanging me out of an upstairs window by the ankles when my Great Auntie Enid offered him a meringue and he accidentally let go. But I bounced - all the way down the garden and into the road. They were all really pleased, Gran was crying, she was so happy. And you should have seen their faces when I got in here - they thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad.”

“My mom thought I was a Muggle, too,” Felicity said. “I never even knew what I was until I got my letter.”

“Are you a Pureblood, then?”

“I don’t think so. Mum was, but she never got magic herself, so I’m not sure if she counts.”

“Squib,” said Hermione helpfully. “It’s the term for a non-magic child in an all-magic family.”

“Er, right. Anyway, I don’t know if my dad was magic or not - he left just before my brother was born.”

“How old’s your brother?” Ulric asked.

“He’s just turned eight.”

“So we can expect him at the Gryffindor table in three-ish years?”

“Maybe. If he’s got magic.” Felicity shrugged and helped herself to more strawberries. “What about you, Ulric? Is your family all magic?”

“Yup. Mom’s a half-blood, I think, and dad was Muggleborn. He was crazy about everything to do with magic, always learning new spells and making ones up himself. It’s pretty much what he did for a living. Mom’s a herbalist - she’d trying to get a shop in Diagon Alley. What’s your mom do?”

“She’s a bartender. I think she once mentioned my dad being a mailman.” After hearing that Ulric’s dad invented spells, her parents’ occupations seemed exceptionally dull.

“Dad loved mailmen,” Ulric replied fondly. “He liked the idea of being legally allowed to look in people’s mailboxes. He collected mailboxes.”

“Really, that’s, erm…”

Felicity was spared in her search for an adjective by the desserts vanishing from the tables and Professor Dumbledore standing once more, casting the hall into silence with a single look. “Ahem - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

“First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Felicity could’ve sworn she saw Dumbledore’s eyes single out Fred and George. “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

“Quidditch trials will be held the second week of term. Anyone interesting in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.”

At the Ravenclaw table, Felicity saw the boy next to Kyne point out a witch with spiky gray hair at the staff table. Madam Hooch, Felicity supposed.

“And, finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”

The sentence sent Felicity’s blood cold. People could die at Hogwarts? Of course, people could die virtually anywhere imaginable but, for some reason, Felicity had been under the impression that magic was all fun and fantasy, never dangerous.

“And now,” Dumbledore concluded, “before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” With a flick of his wand, Dumbledore conjured a long golden ribbon that rose high above the table and twisted itself into words. “Everyone pick their favorite tune and off we go!”

Everyone sang, some obnoxiously so-

“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees

Our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
For now they’re bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff

So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we’ve forgot
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest,
And learn until our brains all rot”


Felicity picked the same tune she’d once heard Markus sing it to - something to the effect of the Beatles’ “Love Me Do” - and was one of the later people finished. Ulric had followed her lead, his voice blending nicely with hers, and soon only the twins’ voices rung out, singing to a slow funeral march. When they finished, Dumbledore conducting their last few lines with his wand, the headmaster wiped his eyes and said, “Ah, music. A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”

There was a great scraping of chairs as everyone began to crowd the spaces between the tables, trying not to lose their house prefects. Felicity stuck close to the Gryffindor prefect, Percy Weasley - just how many Weasleys were there? - and followed him out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. Felicity was far too sleepy and full to pay attention to where they were going. She didn’t even blink as the people in the portraits whispered and pointed as they made their way to their common room, several times passing through hidden doorways until they came to a sudden halt in the middle of a seemingly abandoned corridor.

Looking up, Felicity saw a floating bundle of walking sticks that began to throw themselves at Percy. “Peeves,” he whispered. “A poltergeist.” He raised his voice, “Peeves - show yourself!”

Felicity rather expected to see something frightening but, as it happened, Peeves was anything but scary - with a little pop, a little man appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, looking down at them with beady eyes. “Oooooh!” he cackled. “Ickle Firsties! What fun!”

He swooped at them and they all quickly ducked.

“Go away, Peeves, or the Baron’ll hear about this, I mean it!” Percy shouted.

Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on poor Neville’s head. Percy sighed. “You want to watch out for Peeves. The Bloody Baron’s the only one who can control him, he won’t even listen to us prefects. Here we are.”

They were at the end of a corridor where there hung a portrait of a very fat woman garbed in a pink dress. “Password?” she asked.

“Caput Draconis,” said Percy.

Caput Draconis, Felicity repeated in her head. Caput Draconis.

At his words, the portrait had swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall, through which they all scrambled, into a cozy room full of fireplaces and squashy armchairs. Percy pointed out the dormitories - girls’ on the left - and Felicity gratefully trudge up the stairs with Hermione and the two girls from the boat, who she’d learned were named Lavender and Parvati.

After finding her trunk at the end of one of the four-poster beds, Felicity changed into her pyjamas and climbed into bed. She was just thinking that she was too excited to possibly sleep when her eyes closed and she slipped away.