2.| The Sorting Ceremony

                                    

                                          
"They look terrified," Charlotte observed as the first-years dragged their feet into the Great Hall, Professor McGonagall striding ahead of them with her usual air of authority. 
                          
"There's Ron," George whispered. "Oh, and Harry's in front of him."
                          
"Who's Harry?" Lee asked. 
                          
"Why does Ron look so scared?" Charlotte queried. 
                          
"I told him that he'd have to wrestle a troll," Fred said with his signature devious grin, which Charlotte had grown knowing. That was one difference between the Weasley twins that only Charlotte knew - when they'd been particularly evil, Fred gave a wide grin while George gave a little side smirk. 
                          
"Believed us as well, the gullible kid," George added. 
                          
"Who's Harry?" Lee asked again. 
                          
"The two of you are 'orrible gits," Charlotte giggled. 
                          
"Who's Harry?" Lee asked once more.
                          
"Ooh, McGonagall has the hat out," George whispered excitedly. 
                          
"Come on, Ron," Fred breathed almost silently. "You can get Gryffindor."
                          
"Who's Harry?" Lee whispered sharply, leaning forwards on the table. 
                          
Lee sat back quickly when the Sorting Hat began 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 the 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; 
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 into a chorus of clapping and cheers as the fraying Hat sang his new song. Charlotte looked over to Ron and saw him relax a little before whispering in Harry's ear. 
                          
"I reckon that's better than last year's song," Fred said to Charlotte among the noise. 
                          
"He's had a year to write it; of course it's better."
                          
"So, who's Harry?"
                          
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," McGonagall instructed; this caused Lee to sigh in defeat. "Abbott, Hannah!"
                          
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line. She wandered nervously over to the stool and sat on it, placing the hat on her head with shaking hands and grabbing on to the edge of the stool as the brim fell over eyes. There was a moment of silence. 
                          
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted. 
                          
The Hall broke into applause and there was a loud cheer from the Hufflepuff table on the right, the ghost of the Fat Friar waving her over.