Chapter 056

"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 are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will 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 rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Harry saw her gaze linger on a round faced boy whose cloak was fastened under his left ear, and the redhead known as Ron who had a smudge of dirt on his nose.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

As Professor McGonagall left, Harry peered at his surroundings. All the other first years looked nervous; the bushy haired girl he'd met earlier was muttering spells very quickly under her breath, Ron was tittering nervously as he told anyone near him that his brother said they had to pass some kind of test, and even Daphne and Blaise suddenly looked quite pale.

"Calm down," Harry told the three he near him in a hushed whisper. It wasn't hard as it was so loud with so many students chattering nervously at once—one whisper would be impossible to overhear. He could feel Tracey's grip on his arm tighten as she continued to worry herself. "Worrying about the sorting isn't going to do you any good."

"How can you be so calm?" asked Tracey in a nervous voice. Daphne and Blaise both looked at him as well, and for a moment he thought he saw a glint of respect coming from the blond girl when she saw he wasn't showing any signs of nervousness.

"Easily," Harry replied. "The sorting ceremony is designed to place you within the house you would do best in based upon the traits that the Four Founders felt were most important to them. That means they must have some kind of enchantment or perhaps a spell that will be able to tell which of the Four Founders' traits you possess the most of and sort you based on that."

Truth be told, Harry did not approve of how people were sorted based upon their most prevalent trait. He had studied much this summer and learned about the most recent history of his world, and after reading up on the war between Voldemort and his Death Eaters and the rest magical Britain, he had come to a single conclusion. It was because of the way children were sorted that had allowed Voldemort to gain so many followers.

Children were very malleable. Everything from their personalities to their beliefs were created based upon influences both external and internal. By sorting all of the children who were ambitious and desired power into a single house, Hogwarts had allowed Voldemort to gain a foothold in the younger generation. Worse still, Slytherin house was generally considered the house of the pure, due to thow many children of darker pureblood families went their more as a matter of tradition than because they held the traits Salazar Slytherin so admired.

"But aren't you worried about what house you might be sorted into?" asked Tracey. Though it was her who asked the question, Harry could see both Daphne and Blaise perking up. Clearly, they were just as interested in what he had to say as their friend.

"Not really," said Harry, shrugging. "I care not for what house they sort me into. It's not as if being placed into a specific house will change my goals. It will simply present me with a different set challenges."

He noticed that while Tracey was looking at him in shock and awe, the other two were giving him curious glances. Blaise looked intrigued by his words, as if wondering about the veracity of them. Daphne, on the other hand, was giving him a calculating look, making Harry wonder if perhaps she was trying to determine his worth.

He was torn from his musings when a scream rang near the back of the crowd.

Harry reacted instantly. Pulling himself out of Tracey's grasp he spun around on the balls of his left foot, body shifting, feet spreading, center of mass lowering as he moved into the ready stance he favored when sparring Master Wei. His magic flared as adrenaline pumped through his veins at an accelerated rate. Already his mind was coming up with strategies and counter strategies as he determined the best course of action. The room was crowded, filled to the brim with children his age. That meant he would need to find some way to weave through them if he wanted to deal with whatever threat had presented itself. Perhaps if he levitated himself in the air and floated over them? He wouldn't be able to hold it long, but he should at least be able to–

"What the hell?"

–his thoughts were completely derailed when saw the cause of the scream. Ghosts. About twenty of them in all. Human apparitions made from what looked like ectoplasm or some other form of spiritual matter. Pearly-white and semi-translucent, they glided across the hall, not even paying attention to the first years. They seemed to be having some kind of argument.

"Forgive and forget, I say," what looked like a fat monk was saying, "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?" A ghost wearing a ruff and tights suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

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