All That Glitters by Starsea

Sorted!

Chapter Five: Sorted!

Hagrid nodded, winked swiftly at Harry and disappeared into the shadows. Ron peered after him, wondering where he was going. Fred and George had mentioned something about living near the Forbidden Forest. Ron couldn’t imagine going anywhere near the Forbidden Forest out of choice, let alone living there.

Ron shivered and turned back to the light spilling out from the open door. Professor McGonagall had pulled it open with absolutely no effort, even though it was almost ten feet tall. Ron tried not to gape at the size of the Entrance Hall. Even the Ministry of Magic wasn’t this impressive. The floor was made of flagstones, pitted from age and the many shoes which had walked across them. You could almost feel the history of the place in the old stone walls. Ron breathed in deeply. He loved old places – not things which had been built in the last century, but really old places, where you could almost feel the past breathing down your neck. A murmur came from two great doors on their left, which must be the Great Hall, but they were led into a small anteroom instead. Everyone was muttering and looking slightly nervous. Professor McGonagall folded her hands, sweeping a stern gaze over all of them to quell the noise.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” she began. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you 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.”

I hope it’s not quite like my family, Ron thought. I have enough of being the youngest brother at home.

“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.”

Slytherin noble?! Slytherin outstanding?! Well, I suppose you could call You-Know-Who outstanding, but only in terms of sheer evil.

“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 y ear, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.” Her sharp grey eyes seemed to take in each and every one of them before continuing. “The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school.”

So don’t feel like there’s any pressure on you, Ron thought sarcastically.

“I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting,” Professor McGonagall finished, catching Ron’s eye. Intensely aware of the dirt still lingering on his nose, Ron rubbed at it again. Neville had his cloak fastened under his left ear, and Harry was trying to flatten his hair, but Ron could see that was a lost cause from the start.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” Professor McGonagall finished. “Please wait quietly.”

As soon as she was gone, Harry turned to Ron, his face pale. “How exactly do they Sort us into houses?”

Ron shrugged, licking his finger and rubbing his nose again. He wished he had a mirror. “Some sort of test, I think.” He tried to remember what his brothers had said about the Sorting, but even Percy had been surprisingly vague. “Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.”

Harry did not look reassured. Instead, he looked even more nervous. Neville had gone pale, and Hermione Granger was muttering spells and incantations under her breath. Ron felt as if his stomach was suddenly full of worms. Surely it couldn’t be that difficult, they hadn’t even learnt anything yet. Suddenly people behind them screamed. He and Harry both jumped a foot in the air and turned around.

“What the-?” Ron said as a crowd of ghosts – that was the only thing they could be – emerged from the back wall. They were all talking furiously, quite oblivious to the nervous crowd of children. Once Ron had got over the first shock of seeing them, he was intrigued. There were all sorts there: a thin but beautiful lady was wringing her hands, a young girl in glasses was barely holding back tears, and a plump monk was trying to calm everyone down.

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

“My dear Friar,” exclaimed another ghost, who had an enormous ruff around his neck, reminding Ron of various portraits that he’d seen over the years, “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?” At these words, everyone turned and looked at them. The sensation of being looked at by so many eyes – and transparent eyes at that – caused Ron’s throat to dry up.

A smile broke out over the Friar’s face. “New students! About to be Sorted, I suppose?”

Ron managed a nod.

“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know.” He winked at them, and there were a few tentative smiles. The Elizabethan ghost was scratching his neck, looking faintly nervous. The beautiful lady had folded her hands and was inspecting them gravely. The young girl was pouting, and another ghost that Ron hadn’t noticed before was peering at them through a monocle with a grim smile on his face.

“Move along now!” said Professor McGonagall’s voice, making everyone jump once more. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”

The ghosts obeyed and drifted through the opposite wall. Professor McGonagall turned to the first years, many of whom looked almost relieved. “Now form a line and follow me.”

Ron quickly got behind Harry – Neville slid in behind him, still struggling with his robes – and they marched back the way they’d come into the Great Hall, their feet echoing on the flagstones. Ron saw that Harry was turning his head left and right, drinking it all in. He himself was looking for his brothers at the Gryffindor table. He quickly spotted Percy, thanks to his height and the gleaming badge. They nodded at each other. Fred and George were sitting with Lee and waved cheerily. Ron felt a little better and smiled back.

The professors were all seated on a dais at the end of the Hall, and Professor McGonagall led them to this, so they were all facing the school with the teachers behind them. Ron felt his nerves return at the sight of all those faces staring at him – then he consoled himself with the knowledge they were probably all staring at Harry instead. He never thought he’d be grateful to be ignored, but he supposed there was a first time for everything.

The ghosts were dotted here and there among the tables. The one wearing a ruff had sat down at the Gryffindor table – Ron tried to remember his name, but gave up and looked for the others. The Friar’s table was obviously Hufflepuff. The beautiful lady and the sobbing girl were sitting at the same table, second from the left. Harry was gazing up at the ceiling. Instead of beams and rafters, it looked like the night sky, and Ron tried to spot the constellations, but he was distracted by Hermione Granger whispering, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside.”

Care to make any more obvious statements? Ron asked silently.

“I read about it in Hogwarts, A History,” Hermione went on, oblivious, as Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of them all. She then produced a frayed wizard’s hat and put it on the stool.

That looks like it needs to be put out to pasture, Ron thought to himself, imagining his mother’s face if she saw it. The hat was not only frayed, but also patched and darned. It looked more than old, it looked ancient. Everyone was staring at it intently, so Ron stared too. Suddenly, a rip near the brim opened and a small but clear voice began to sing. Ron was so gobsmacked that he didn’t take in what it was saying for a few moments, but the words “Hogwarts Sorting Hat” penetrated his brain quickly enough.

“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.”

Ron let out a huge sigh of relief, and he wasn’t alone.

“You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart.”

Ron almost snorted. Chivalry? No offence, but Fred and George aren’t exactly chivalrous. He wasn’t exactly sure what chivalry meant, but he knew that it had something to do with manners, and it definitely didn’t apply to Fred or George. Daring and nerve were definitely more like it, but if so, why was Percy in Gryffindor?

“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.”

Ron could feel Hermione Granger perk up a little. Ready mind, eager to learn, gotta be a Ravenclaw, he thought to himself with a nod.

“Or perhaps in Slytherin
You’ll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.”

You’re not wrong, Ron agreed, remembering Draco Malfoy using his cronies to try and get some of their sweets.

“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!”

Everyone burst into applause as it finished. The hat bowed to each of the four tables in turn (Ron wondered why) and then fell silent. Ron leaned forward and whispered to Harry, “So we’ve just got to try on the hat! I’ll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.” Harry smiled weakly, but he didn’t seem relieved. In fact, he looked slightly green. Professor McGonagall stepped forward again.

“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be Sorted,” she announced. “Abbott, Hannah!”

They all watched tensely as a girl with blonde pigtails and flushed cheeks nervously stumbled towards the stool, picked up the hat and put it on. It was so big that it fell over her eyes, hiding most of her face. Ron was relieved: at least they wouldn’t have to look at the rest of the school while the hat made its decision. The hat opened its mouth again and yelled, “HUFFLEPUFF!”

The Friar’s table cheered, and the Friar waved at Hannah as she hurried towards them with obvious relief.

“Bones, Susan!”

Ron leaned forward slightly. There was a Bones working at the Ministry. She wasn’t in the same department as Dad, and she was much higher up, but Dad had always said she was very fair, so he had an idea-

“HUFFLEPUFF!”

Yep, he was right. Susan calmly placed the hat back on the stool and walked off towards the table. From the look on her face, Ron could see that she had been thinking the same thing as him.

“Boot, Terry!”

The hat didn’t hesitate. “RAVENCLAW!”

Terry carefully took the hat off and trotted off towards the table where the lady was sitting. Several Ravenclaws shook his hand. They seemed quite friendly, so maybe Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad after all. The next girl was also a Ravenclaw, but the one after her, “Brown, Lavender”, became the first Gryffindor. Ron saw his brothers’ table erupt with cheers. Fred and George were catcalling towards the table on the far right. Ron didn’t have long to wonder which one that was, as “Bulstrode, Millicent” became a Slytherin and walked off towards it. Ron decided not to look at that table. He wanted as little to do with the Slytherins as possible. He wasn’t surprised when “Crabbe, Vincent” also went in that direction. None of the other houses would have taken someone that stupid and nasty.

Harry was looking greener and greener. Ron tapped him on the shoulder, but Harry didn’t even notice. Ron didn’t know why Harry was so worried. He wouldn’t go to Slytherin, he’d defeated You-Know-Who so he was obviously a Gryffindor or maybe a Hufflepuff. As Ron thought this, “Finch-Fletchley, Justin” became another Hufflepuff. The Hufflepuffs were doing well. Ron wondered if the Hat had to Sort a certain number of pupils into each house or whether it really did decide purely on what it saw in people’s heads. It was now the turn of “Finnigan, Seamus”. He had been under there for a while now, twiddling his thumbs. Ron wondered what was going on, but then the hat yelled, “GRYFFINDOR!” and Seamus almost skipped towards the table.

“Goyle, Gregory!”

Ron knew what the hat was going to say even before it yelled, “SLYTHERIN!” Goyle wandered off, and for a moment Ron thought he was going to wander right out of the hall before he curved towards the Slytherin table.

“I bet you he didn’t know where he was going,” Ron whispered in Harry’s ear, causing a small chuckle.

“Granger, Hermione!”

Hermione almost ran to the stool. Ron crossed his fingers. Oh please, oh please, oh please-

“GRYFFINDOR!”

“No,” Ron groaned, causing Harry to turn around and give him a small grin. “Well,” Ron went on crossly, “I don’t know what rules it’s using. I’ve never seen a more obvious Ravenclaw.” He sighed. “I suppose I’ll just have to grin and bear it.”

“Cheer up,” Harry said quietly. “Better than not being chosen at all.”

“If you’re here, it has to choose you,” Ron answered, but he didn’t think Harry had heard him. He was staring at the stool again, his fists clenched, his green eyes almost glowing in his face. When Neville Longbottom was called, he almost tripped over on the way to the stool (Ron and Harry winced in sympathy). The hat took a long time with him too. Ron was sure that he would be put in Hufflepuff, but no – “GRYFFINDOR!” yelled the hat. Neville got down and headed towards the table without even taking it off. Everyone burst out laughing, and Neville stopped, obviously stumped for a moment before suddenly realising what he’d done. Blushing furiously, he hurried back to give the hat to “MacDougal, Morag” then dived for the Gryffindor table. Fred and George patted him on the arm.

“Malfoy, Draco.”

Even though Ron wasn’t looking, he could feel a stir on the Slytherin table. Draco swaggered up as if he owned the place. The hat barely touched his head before screaming “SLYTHERIN!” Draco put the hat down and headed for his table, his swagger even more pronounced. Ron snorted in disgust.

The line of first years was rapidly getting smaller and smaller. “Nott, Theodore” and “Parkinson, Pansy” were both Sorted into Slytherin. Pansy Parkinson looked like the back end of a Hippogryff, but Ron was surprised by Nott’s Sorting, as the boy looked rather dreamy, more a Ravenclaw.

“Patil, Padma!”

A pretty Indian girl sat herself on the stool. The hat seemed to think for a second, then – “RAVENCLAW!”

The girl looked satisfied as she wandered off to the Ravenclaw table.

“Patil, Parvati!”

She’ll be in Ravenclaw too, if her twin’s in it, Ron thought confidently as Parvati slipped the hat on. This time, there was no hesitation. “GRYFFINDOR!”

Ron blinked in surprise. Hang on – they’re twins – how can they be in different houses? He glanced at Fred and George, who waved at him again.

“Potter, Harry!”

There was a sudden hush as Harry stepped forward (it wasn’t Ron’s imagination, he definitely looked green now), and then whispers rushed around the Hall. Ron’s stomach clenched in sympathy as Harry walked up to the hat, looking straight ahead, as cool as a cucumber. They’re going to be doing that all the time you’re here, he thought sadly. Then, as Harry put the hat on, a fierce and surprising desire suddenly rose in Ron's stomach: Put him in Gryffindor! Please put him in Gryffindor! He's my friend! Surprised, he examined this thought.

It was true. Harry was his friend, the first friend he’d made all on his own, with no help from his brothers or parents, and no history of friendship between their families. A totally independent friendship, a pure friendship. But it was more than that; Harry was not just his first real friend, he was also the first person who had liked Ron for himself. Harry liked him for being plain old Ron Weasley. He didn’t compare Ron to his brothers. He didn’t care about poverty or Dad’s position in the Ministry... He just liked him. Ron bit his lip. He suddenly wanted Harry to be in Gryffindor so badly that it almost hurt.

Then he noticed that Harry was gripping the sides of the stool. Startled, he glanced around. Everyone was holding their breath. All the houses were leaning forward anxiously, an avaricious gleam in their eyes. The ones who were left Unsorted were craning their necks to see what was happening, eager and excited. Ron glanced behind him, and saw that the teachers were sitting very straight, eyes focused on the small seated boy. He looked back at the stool – Harry’s knuckles had gone white – Ron’s fists clenched in sympathy – he looked up at the stars and closed his eyes, wishing with all his might – Put him in Gryffindor, put him in Gryffindor-

“GRYFFINDOR!” yelled the hat.

YES!!

Ron almost punched the air in delight as the Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin tables sank back, disappointed, while the Gryffindor table exploded with joy and leapt to its feet. Harry took off the hat, beaming. Ron saw that his face was shiny. Why is he sweating? he thought, shocked. Nobody else seemed to have noticed: the Gryffindors were thumping their table with their fists and stamping their feet upon the ground in triumph to welcome Harry. Percy stood up and shook Harry’s hand – typical Percy, Ron thought fondly – whilst the twins leapt up and down, calling to the other tables (but principally Slytherin), “We got Potter! We got Potter!” Everyone was beaming at Harry and Ron felt a deep gladness for him. Finally Harry Potter was where he belonged, finally he was with people who liked him and wanted him.

Ron suddenly realised that there were only four people left to be Sorted: a tall, thin girl, two black boys, one tall, one small... and him. He gulped.

“Thomas, Dean!”

The boy walked nervously towards the hat, and gingerly put it on, as if expecting it to bite him. “GRYFFINDOR!” yelled the hat immediately. Ron saw Seamus Finnigan waving. Harry was sitting next to the ghost. Ron avoided his gaze. If the hat didn’t put him in Gryffindor... after all that wishing for Harry to be there... He felt sick.

The girl (“Turpin, Lisa”) became another Ravenclaw, and then it was his turn. He walked forward, feeling the eyes of his brothers on him, feeling Harry’s eyes upon him. The hat dropped over his head, leaving him in darkness.

“Another Weasley? You’re a large brood, this time, aren’t you?” remarked a small voice in his ear.

Please-

“Well?”

DON’T put me in Slytherin.

The voice burst out laughing. “That’s twice I’ve heard that today! No fear, boy, I’ve never put a Weasley in Slytherin yet. The Weasleys always have been and always shall be GRYFFINDOR!”

The last word echoed around the hall. There was a loud cheer from the Gryffindors as he set the hat down and walked towards them. Some people even thumped the table for him as they’d done for Harry.

“Well done, Ron, excellent,” Percy told him, as if Ron had done it all by himself. Ron refrained from making a sarcastic comment and nodded. The twins were giving him the thumbs up, as were Angelina and Lee and the other people who’d been in the train compartment. He returned the gesture and seated himself by Harry, noticing that Hermione Granger had a strange look on her face. Well, I’m not particularly happy to be with you either, but hey, that’s life, Ron told her silently, forgetting her instantly as he looked at Harry and saw the huge grin on Harry’s face. He flushed, feeling warm and embarrassed at the same time.

“Good to see you, Ron,” Harry said, grinning even wider.

“You too,” Ron answered, and grinned back. Suddenly the world was wonderful.

“Welcome!”

Ron looked up, seeing that Dumbledore had risen to his feet. He was immediately all ears, even though his stomach was telling him very loudly that it wanted some food now.

“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!” Dumbledore continued. “Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”

Good old Dumbledore, as weird and brilliant as ever! Ron clapped and cheered along with the rest of the Gryffindors, although the Muggleborns like Dean Thomas and Hermione Granger looked unsure as to whether they should do the same.

“Is he – a bit mad?” Harry asked Percy.

“Mad? He’s a genius!” said Percy airily, taking the words right out of Ron’s mouth. Ron contented himself with nodding, noticing that the twins were doing the same. “Best wizard in the world!” Percy went on. “But he is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?”

Harry gaped at the food on the table. Ron didn’t waste time looking, he got on with helping himself and slipping crumbs and crackling inside his pocket for Scabbers. He noticed that Harry took a bit of everything except the strange black and white sweets – Ron had heard that Dumbledore always liked to have some Muggle ones to help the Muggleborns get settled in, but maybe Harry didn’t like this particular variety, which Ron soon found out were called mint humbugs. He carefully picked one and popped it into his mouth. There was no exploding or changing of flavour, but the mint was pleasant, and he found that they were quite chewy.

“That does look good,” said the ghost wistfully, gazing at Harry’s steak.

“Can’t you-?”

“I haven’t eaten in nearly four hundred years. I don’t need to, of course, but one does miss it.” Ron knew exactly what he meant. “I don’t think I’ve introduced myself?” the ghost continued. “Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.”

Something clicked in Ron’s head. That’s it! “I know who you are!” he exclaimed, swallowing his humbug. “My brothers told me about you – you’re Nearly Headless Nick!”

Sir Nicholas frowned. “I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-”

“Nearly Headless?” interrupted Seamus Finnigan, raising an eyebrow. “How can you be nearly headless?” Hermione Granger looked as if she’d wanted to ask the same question. Ron thought the answer was obvious, but all the first years were now looking at Sir Nicholas, highly interested. The rest of the Gryffindors were either grinning behind their hands or openly smirking in the case of Fred and George and Lee. Even Percy looked as if he was trying hard not to smile. Sir Nicholas glanced around and then huffed.

“Like this,” he replied, grabbing his left ear and tugging. His head tipped over to rest on his shoulder. Wow, that must have been painful, Ron thought dimly, feeling Harry stiffen beside him. Harry’s reaction was mild compared to that of the other first years. Some pushed back from the table, some dropped their forks, and Neville Longbottom retched. Hermione Granger was pale; Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown had gone green. Seamus, on the other hand, seemed deeply impressed, as did Dean Thomas. Ron was just stunned.

Nick seemed pleased with the variety of expressions, and calmly flipped his head back. “So – new Gryffindors!” he said brightly. “I hope you’re going to help us win the House Championship this year! Gryffindor have never gone so long without winning. Slytherin have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron’s becoming almost unbearable – he’s the Slytherin ghost,” he added, nodding over at the Slytherin table.

Ron realised Nick meant the ghost with the monocle, and suddenly realised that the silver on his clothes which he had taken to be part of the costume was actually blood. He swallowed, but was satisfied to see that Malfoy, who was sitting next to the Baron, looked rather pale and uncomfortable.

“How did he get covered in blood?” asked Seamus, who seemed to enjoy asking awkward questions.

“I’ve never asked,” Nick replied delicately. Ron couldn’t blame him. It wasn’t exactly a topic for polite conversation: Excuse me, Baron, you must tell me how you got those splashes of blood on your clothes, they really are the latest style! No, definitely not.

Fortunately, dessert appeared in time to save the conversation, and talk was abandoned for a little while as everyone tucked into ice-cream (in winter!), pies and tarts and jelly and rice pudding... Ron had three helpings of apple and rhubarb, his favourite dessert, whilst marvelling that he could eat as much as he liked without being told off for being greedy or having to stop to “let the others have their share”. Gradually, conversation among the first years picked up again. This time, the topic was family. Ron pointed out the twins and Percy, which caused a look of mingled respect, envy and fear. Dean Thomas was Muggle-born and had never even heard of Hogwarts before he got his letter.

“But it made sense,” he added, “because, one time when I was playing football, right, I was running towards the goal, and when I kicked the ball, it actually swerved to avoid the goalie’s hands. Good thing everyone else was too excited to notice,” he finished. The other Muggleborns nodded, leaving Ron to puzzle over this thing called football and “goalies”.

“I’m half and half,” Seamus announced. “Me dad’s a Muggle. Mam didn’t tell him she was a witch ’til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him.”

Everyone chuckled. Harry was eating a treacle tart like there was no tomorrow, but then most people knew about his family. Ron saw that Dean was looking at Harry curiously, so he quickly said, “What about you, Neville?”

Neville swallowed a mouthful. “Well, my gran brought me up and she’s a witch, 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.” Harry was frowning: Ron could see his thoughts written in his eyes: How could someone push a child off Blackpool Pier? “Great-Uncle Algie came round for tea,” Neville went on, “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,” he added, beaming himself. “They thought I might not be magic enough to come, you see. Great-Uncle Algie was so pleased he bought me my toad.”

That explains it, Ron thought. A great-uncle wouldn’t know that toads aren’t fashionable. Where are his parents? I suppose they died like Harry’s, better not ask. His relatives sound even worse than mine... imagine being hung upside down from an upstairs window... He shuddered. Even Fred and George weren’t that bad.

Hermione Granger had collared Percy, and they were deep in discussion about lessons, naturally. Birds of a feather flock together, Ron thought, echoing his mother, and quickly helped himself to another slab of cherry ice-cream. He was savouring a cold piece of cherry when Harry suddenly bent over beside him, grimacing in pain, pressing a hand to his forehead. Startled, Ron turned to him, touching his shoulder.

“What is it?” Percy asked anxiously, reminding Ron of the many times he’d grazed his knee or got a splinter in his hand. Percy would always be the one to take him inside and clean the wound, carefully putting the magic plaster on the cut, telling him it wasn’t that bad.

“N-nothing...” Harry glanced at the teachers. “Who’s that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?” he asked.

“Oh, you know Quirrell already, do you?” said Percy approvingly. Hermione Granger looked slightly jealous. “No wonder he’s so nervous, that’s Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but he doesn’t want to – everyone knows he’s after Quirrell’s job. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape.”

Ron stared at the young man. He was wearing a purple turban for some reason, and he did look nervous, but then who could blame him? The man who was talking to him looked quite intimidating. He was dressed in black, and his black hair hung around his face like a curtain. His nose was hooked, his eyes were deep set, and he looked as if he spent all his time indoors. Ron wrinkled his nose and went back to his ice-cream. He was very glad that he wasn’t in Slytherin. Snape looked nasty.

Eventually, the puddings disappeared and Dumbledore got to his feet again. Everyone leaned forward to listen.

“Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered.”

Fed and watered, Ron thought to himself with a grin. The words reminded him of his Uncle Bilius.

“I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.” Ron knew without looking that Dumbledore meant his brothers. “I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in corridors.” Everyone nudged each other, not looking particularly concerned about this. “Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch,” Dumbledore continued. Ron sighed silently. First years weren’t allowed their own broomsticks, so they couldn’t play, and even if they could, he didn’t have a decent broom. The twins were on the team, but they used school brooms. He began to daydream of having a Nimbus 2000, but was interrupted by Dumbledore raising his voice slightly.

“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.” Dumbledore gazed at them all, his eyes devoid of their twinkle.

Ron heard Harry laugh beside him, and saw Snape’s eyes fix on the Gryffindor table. Ron fought an urge to sink down as they narrowed. The small ripple of laughter quickly died.

“He’s not serious?” Harry whispered to Percy, and Ron glanced at his elder brother to hear his answer. Percy was frowning.

“Must be,” he said. “It’s odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we’re not allowed to go somewhere – the forest’s full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that.”

Which is exactly why Fred and George want to explore it, Ron thought.

“I do think he might have told us Prefects, at least,” Percy remarked, sounding as if he was going to pout. Ron rolled his eyes. As if Prefects run the school!

“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” Dumbledore announced. Everyone sat up as a golden ribbon flew out of Dumbledore’s wand and twisted itself into words. Dumbledore smiled. “Everyone pick their favourite tune, and off we go!”

Ron almost burst out laughing at the sheer cacophony that followed. Percy was singing the words to the National Anthem. Fred and George were using a funeral march. He himself had decided to use I Put A Spell On You by the Weird Sisters. Harry was using a tune which he told Ron as they finished was called Nature Boy. Eventually, Fred and George were the only ones left singing (rather out of tune). When they finished, everyone clapped as much from relief as appreciation. Dumbledore wiped his eyes. “Ah music, a magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime! Off you trot!”

Ron was glad to get up and follow Percy back through the Entrance Hall and up the grand staircase. His eyelids seemed greasy and he could see Harry nodding slightly as they walked along the corridor. All the portraits were whispering as they saw him, so it was probably a good thing that he was so sleepy. Ron pinched him whenever it looked as if he was in danger of really falling asleep, and Harry would give him a smile before slowly dropping off again. They went through many secret doors, whether hidden behind panels or tapestries. Ron had a confused impression of many winding corridors and staircases. He bit his tongue whenever he got too sleepy. Neville Longbottom was dragging his feet, and Dean Thomas was yawning so widely that Ron thought he would dislocate his jaw.

“Where is this dormitory, anyway?” he heard Hermione mutter. “I know it’s in a tower, but really...”

Ron glanced over his shoulder and they smiled at each other, too tired to continue fighting for the moment. Suddenly the line stopped moving and Ron almost bumped into Harry.

“Wha...?” He looked ahead and saw that there was a bunch of walking sticks floating in the air.

“Peeves,” Percy whispered, “a poltergeist. Peeves,” he called in a louder voice, “show yourself.”

The walking sticks didn’t move. The only reply was a loud raspberry. Percy was unfazed, having grown up with the twins. “Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?”

Ron heard a small popping sound, and saw a small man appear clutching the walking sticks. His eyes were small and dark and nasty, and he had a large mouth which was curved in a malicious grin. Peeves let out a sound which could only be called a cackle. “Oooh!” he exclaimed gleefully. “Ickle firsties! What fun!”

So that’s who Fred was imitating, Ron thought sleepily. Peeves swooped down on them and they all ducked.

“Go away, Peeves, or the Baron’ll hear about this, I mean it!” Percy snapped, folding his arms. My brother the Knight, Ron thought sleepily. Defending ickle firsties from nasty poltergeists. What a Gryffindor.

Obviously this threat was enough, because Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished. The walking sticks hovered for a moment, then dropped, landing on Neville’s head. He whimpered, rubbing it. There was another cackle, and then they heard Peeves zooming away, rattling the suits of armour.

“You want to watch our for Peeves,” Percy warned, leading them on up the staircase, “the Bloody Baron’s the only one who can control him. He won’t even listen to us Prefects.”

Well, he’s not a student, so why should he? Ron thought, rubbing his eyes. He reached over and pinched Harry’s arm. Harry started and blinked, looking around wildly.

“Here we are,” Percy announced as they arrived before the portrait of a large woman dressed in pink. She looked like a blancmange.

“Password?” she demanded.

“Caput Draconis,” Percy replied, and the portrait swung aside. They all stumbled through (Ron gave Neville a leg up) and found themselves in their common room. Ron felt Scabbers moving in his pocket, poking his nose out to see what was going on. The common room was already filled with older Gryffindors. Some were playing Exploding Snap, others were comparing homework in comfy armchairs. Fred and George were holding court by the fireplace. Ron saw Percy compress his lips, but duty came first. He pointed the girls towards their dormitory and then showed the boys theirs.

Groaning slightly at the sight of another staircase, the five of them heaved themselves up by holding the banister and emerged into a round room with five four-poster beds. They were hung with crimson velvet curtains and each curtain had a faint lion embroidered on them in gold thread. Ron sighed in delight. Real four-poster beds, just like Bill said! he thought, noting that his trunks were already arranged neatly at the foot of one. He was pleased to see that he and Harry were next to each other, despite the fact that his trunks looked even more battered compared to Harry’s set. Harry’s trunks were obviously brand spanking new, expensive, and expertly made. They even had his name spelled out in gold on the lids: Harry J. Potter. Neville, Seamus and Dean were gazing at them with deep admiration, but Harry didn’t even notice, he just got out his pyjamas. Seeing how sensible this was, Ron followed his lead and the others changed without a word. A fire had been lit, and Ron could see a lion carved above the hearth. He grabbed Scabbers and plonked him on the bed. Seamus leapt back.

“A rat!”

“He’s my pet, Seamus,” Ron yawned.

“Oh right, sorry.”

Harry caught Ron’s eye and they grinned at each other. Neville looked worried and checked his cloak. “There you are, Trevor,” he sighed in relief, pulling out the squirming toad. “Right, come on, in your box, nice and cool...”

Harry pushed his curtain aside and almost collapsed onto the mattress.

“Great food, isn’t it?” Ron asked him, falling onto his own bed. He slipped under the covers, and felt Scabbers scamper over his chest. “Get off, Scabbers! He’s chewing my sheets,” he added in disgust, yanking the rat away from the frayed material and plonking him next to the pillow. “Stay!” he told the rat in a fierce whisper.

“Nighron,” he heard Harry slur, and felt that warmth inside his chest again.

“Night, Harry,” he whispered, hugging himself. “Night, Neville; night, Dean; night, Seamus.”

“Night, Ron,” they all whispered back and then said good night to each other. Ron turned on his back and gazed up at the carved ceiling of his bed. Lions were in it of course, along with badgers, and eagles, and snakes... it seemed like they were chasing each other. Or were they dancing? Ron couldn’t see: the firelight was flickering too much and his eyes were too tired.

He could feel sleep coming, but he wanted to savour the day in all its chaos and glory first. Breakfast seemed so far away now, and it felt like Ginny and Mum were living in another country... must remember to send Ginny that owl, Ron told himself, drawing up the blanket. His mind roved over the various images: getting to the station, getting on the Express... seeing Harry, meeting him... sharing the sweets... Harry talking back to Malfoy as if Malfoy was nothing (Ron grinned); Scabbers biting Goyle – Scabbers actually doing something besides sleeping and eating; getting off the Express, the journey through the forest, the wonderful moonlit trip in the boat with Harry and Hermione and Neville... the Sorting, the great elation of having Harry in Gryffindor, of being Sorted, and knowing where you belonged... Nearly Headless Nick... the journey to the common room and this bedroom, this wonderful bed...

It had been a wonderful day.

“Death! Doom! Destruction!” the ghoul yelled inside his mind.

Ron grinned to himself again. He foresaw no death or destruction in his time here, and precious little doom. He turned his head and looked to his left where he knew Harry lay sleeping.

We’re gonna have a great time, Harry Potter, you and me. A great time.

And with that thought, Ron Weasley closed his eyes and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep with a smile upon his face.

The Beginning


DISCLAIMER: The wonderful Ronald Weasley belongs to J.K. Rowling, as do the rest of the characters in the world of Harry Potter. A lot of the dialogue come from Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone, 1997, UK paperback, Chapters Six and Seven.

VOCAB CHECK
Sorted: In current slang, ‘sorted’ means ‘well done’ or ‘excellent’ as well as ‘finished’, seen in the expression ‘it’s all sorted’.

AUTHOR’S NOTES: There was no particular inspiration for this story apart from the fact that there don’t seem to be many stories completely focusing on Ron (although there are a lot of Ron fans). The Letensco Charm is my own, and comes from the Latin for “sticky”. I really enjoyed writing this story – I loved my stay as a guest inside Ron’s head, writing his reactions to his family, Harry, Malfoy and Hermione (of such beginnings are great romances made). Some people might think I’ve made Ron a little too hostile to Hermione, but I wanted him to be a normal pre-pubescent boy without any inkling of what she might come to mean to him. It was fun to mix up his correct and incorrect predictions. I might write about Neville’s first journey to Hogwarts too. What do you think?

Many thanks to my beta reader, Jo Wickanninnish, who took on this story at very short notice and St. Margarets, who was kind enough to discuss the title with me!

xxx~Starsea~xxx

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