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When they reached the other side of the lake, Neville somehow rediscovered his Toad, causing Harry to blink and glance around at the slippery rock they had berthed on.
How…I mean it was on the train…Where…?
No one else seemed as confused by that as he was. He decided to ignore it and explain it with magic. A Professor McGonagall came out to explain the house system, and Harry jumped when a crowd of silvery ghosts floated around the corner. Or rather, through the corner. The children formed a line at McGonagall's command and followed her inside the Great Hall. The name almost didn't do the room justice. It was lit by floating candles, and glittering gold goblets, dishes and cutlery sat at four long tables. Harry barely even noticed the many people inside. The room had completely enraptured him. The sky looked dark and magnificent within the ceiling of the hall.
There was an old hat that sang a quick song, and the first years were called up one by one to have it placed on their heads. Daphne was sorted into Slytherin with the freckled brunette and Draco – she had his condolences – and Hermione went to Gryffindor with the African boy from the boat, he also had Harry's best wishes.
"Harry Potter!" Harry swallowed his fear and cleared his mind.
He sat down amongst the whispers and the people staring before the hat fell over his eyes.
Hmm," said a small voice in his ear, (or was it in his head?) "difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see."
He wondered if that hat actually believed that.
"You don't think you have courage? I see you facing your fears already."
Harry remembered the crowded train. He decided the hat might have a point.
It still smells a bit odd though.
It chuckled in his ear.
"Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... So where shall I put you? Somewhere to escape? You could lay low in Ravenclaw, you know? Hufflepuff would see you surrounded by loyal friends. No, no. They would never let you hide. Or… I believe… perhaps… Ravenclaw!" The hat roared the house name and Harry shakily returned it to McGonagall before walking over to the table, to great applause.
The applaud me, but they don't even know me.
Dumbledore gave a speech, which Harry thought was odd, about dying if you entered the third-floor corridor. He hadn't seemed one half so much mad before, especially with the nonsensical words. Harry felt that was strange to say the least. But the feast was delicious.
Harry stumbled up to the Ravenclaw tower with the other first-years. He was exhausted. The day had been draining, what with everything that happened.
Penelope Clearwater, a prefect, explained that to enter the room, one would need to answer a riddle. She rapped the knocker sharply and it began:
"I don't know where I am, I don't know where I am going, but once I am gone I am what I am. What am I?"
Penelope looked out at the exhausted first years.
Lost.
Harry didn't think he had said it aloud, but evidently he was losing his faculties, as the door swung open at his word.
Schedules were handed out, they would all be the same until third year, and the comings and goings of the school were explained. Harry looked about and saw an imitation of the planets hanging in the air, drifting slightly and spinning around, presumably in time with their larger counterparts. There were bookcases and a cozy-looking fire, along with several places to read, and even what looked like two orator's platforms.
Do they have house debates?
That was a pretty stupid question. Of course they did.
Harry looked up at the books. Stacked high in the tower. He was led up to the dormitory where his bed was waiting for him. He changed and fell asleep without a word to his new dormmates. He felt warm inside, despite his exhaustion.
This was important. This was good. He could belong here
Look!"
"Where is he?"
"I don't see him."
"Wearing the glasses?"
"Did you see his face? Did you see…you know…it?"
Very subtle.
Harry thought.
"His scar?"
The whispers followed Harry from the moment he left his dormitory the next day. People had lined up outside classrooms and stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors. A redheaded boy from Gryffindor was pointing with a grin on his face.
Harry wished they wouldn't, he already found himself missing his cupboard, and just wanted to concentrate on finding his classes. Navigating minds was a difficult task, but the castle was an absolute labyrinth, and if he made a mistake he had to wait for stairs to return. He huffed indignantly.
Harry dodged a vanishing step before turning around. Apparently, the staircase he had chosen went somewhere different on Tuesdays, or depending on its mood. Consistent landmarks were difficult to find because the armor and paintings wouldn't stay still.
He was forced to sidestep Mrs. Norris, whom he was almost certain was trying to purposefully trip him, sending him tumbling down a floor or plummeting to the ground way below.
Who designed this castle?
But there was magic, and he loved it. He loved tracking the planets and constellations at midnight every Wednesday atop the astronomy tower. He was told the locations of planets could affect potions and ambient magic. He wasn't sure what it meant yet, but knew that it was important. He was less enthused about taking care of plants in Herbology, despite Professor Sprout's various assurances regarding the twisting potted plants and fungi.
He eyed one with thick, spiraling vines. It writhed slowly in place, and he was almost certain that it eyed him back.
On the other hand, he absolutely loathed the History of Magic teacher. If Peeves' disturbances weren't enough to convince him to learn how to banish ghosts and poltergeists, then Professor Binns' teaching did the trick.
Some teachers were excited to see him, like Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher. He fell off his pile of books the first time he called Harry's name for the register. Flitwick had later confided that his mother was quite the talent with charms, and Harry resolved to come by again to find out more about his mother.
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