Hermione stood with the other first-years in front of the closed doors leading into Hogwarts, feeling her excitement grow with every passing second. In just a moment, she would enter the school, surrounded by children, most of whom had known about magic since birth. Would she be able to find friends among them who shared her love of learning and adventure? Or would she remain an outsider in this new world? She desperately wanted to believe that she had not made a mistake by leaving behind her familiar life and her parents for the future she had already pictured in her imagination. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her pounding heart. At that moment, the doors swung open.
For the first time since saying goodbye to her parents at King's Cross, Hermione saw a familiar face. Professor McGonagall stood before the first-years in her emerald-green robes. Hermione's first impulse was to go up to her and say hello as if they were old acquaintances. But she held herself back. Here, McGonagall was not a guest in their home, but a professor welcoming new pupils. It would be foolish to expect their previous meeting to have meant as much to her as it had to Hermione.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," Professor McGonagall said.
Hagrid nodded and stepped aside. The professor looked over the first-years.
"Follow me and keep up."
She turned and entered the castle. The pupils hurried after her. Hermione walked beside Neville, whom she had stayed with since they crossed the lake.
The moment she stepped inside, Hermione slowed down without meaning to. The first-years were dwarfed by the enormous stone hall. Their footsteps echoed loudly off the walls, lit by rows of torches, while the ceiling disappeared somewhere high above their heads. Ahead of them rose a broad marble staircase, wide enough for a dozen people to walk up side by side.
Hermione wanted to stop and take a proper look around, but McGonagall was walking quickly, and she had to keep up with the others.
"Everything here is so huge," she said quietly to Neville.
Neville looked around and tilted his head back too, trying to make out the ceiling.
"Maybe there used to be a lot more children at Hogwarts," he suggested. "Perhaps hundreds of young witches and wizards used to come here every year."
"Hundreds?" Hermione looked at him doubtfully.
"Why else would they build such a huge castle?"
Hermione looked around at the high stone walls again. For a moment, she imagined the hall filled with hundreds of pupils, but soon a very different picture came to mind: knights in shining armour gathered before a tournament.
"Everything here looks like a real medieval castle," she remarked. "All that's missing are the knights and the Round Table."
Neville looked at her in confusion.
"Do you think knights used to live at Hogwarts?"
"Probably not," Hermione replied. "It just reminded me of the books I've read about medieval castles and knights."
As they walked through the hall, Hermione was suddenly struck by how far away Mum and Dad were. Tonight would be the first time she had ever spent the night without them. They were probably home by now, had finished dinner, and were sitting in the living room with their books and mugs of cocoa. Hermione imagined telling them everything that had happened that day, and her eyes began to sting. For a moment, she desperately wanted to be back home and hug them tightly.
She blinked quickly, not wanting anyone to notice her tears, and remembered what her mother had said before they parted: "The main thing is, don't shut yourself away, and try to make friends with the other children."
Hermione looked at Neville walking beside her. He was kind and did not seem to mind her company at all, though at times he seemed too shy and awkward. Perhaps, given time, they really could become friends.
A little way ahead were Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Hermione's gaze lingered on Harry. He was the one she particularly wanted to get to know better. He had grown up among Muggles too and surely understood what it was like to suddenly find yourself in a completely unfamiliar world. Besides, the story of the boy who had survived an attack by the most dangerous Dark wizard still fascinated her.
But Harry was already chatting animatedly with Ron.
'Looks like he's already found himself a friend,' Hermione thought with a little disappointment. And judging by their meeting on the train, that friend was not at all pleased with her.
Meanwhile, McGonagall led the first-years into a small room. Beyond the closed door ahead came the hum of dozens of voices.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "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 professor briefly told them about the four Houses at Hogwarts and explained that pupils earned points for their House through good work and good behaviour, while points were taken away for breaking the rules. None of this was new to Hermione, however. She had already read about the points system and the competition for the House Cup in wizarding magazines she had ordered from Diagon Alley.
When McGonagall had finished her explanation, she told the first-years to wait for a little while and disappeared through the door, beyond which came the murmur of many voices.
Hermione heard Harry, who was standing nearby, quietly ask Ron,
"How exactly do they sort us into houses?"
"Some sort of test, I think," Ron replied. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was just joking."
Hermione was just about to tell them about the Sorting Hat, which she had read about in the 'Daily Prophet', but stopped herself in time. The article had only said that it decided which House each pupil would be placed in. It had not explained what exactly the Hat itself was.
"Do you know what the Sorting Hat is?" Hermione quietly asked Neville, who was standing beside her. "Or who it is?"
"Who?" he repeated. "I think it's just a hat."
"The paper talked about it as if it made the decisions itself."
Neville thought for a moment.
"Maybe that's because it's magical?"
"Can things really think, even if they're magical?" Hermione asked in surprise. "I think it might be the name of a position. Maybe someone wears the hat and decides where each pupil should go."
"Professor McGonagall, for example?"
Hermione looked at the door through which the professor had disappeared. She immediately pictured McGonagall in a strange hat. With a wave of her hand, the professor pointed each pupil towards the table of the House they were supposed to join.
"Yes, that's quite possible," Hermione agreed. "But still, how exactly does she decide who goes where?"
Neville shrugged, and Hermione went on.
"I think we'll have to show our magical abilities so they can decide which House we should be in. I, for one, mean to get into Gryffindor. I think it's the best House at Hogwarts. Or at least Ravenclaw. I made a point of practising over the summer so I could learn a few spells. For example, I learned to use Locomotor, which lets you move objects."
Neville looked at her, fear and uncertainty appearing in his eyes.
"But I can't do any magic," he mumbled. "Will they send me back home, then?"
"No, of course not!" Hermione hurried to reassure him. "They'll definitely find a House for you! The important thing is to work hard at your studies, and then everything will work out."
She continued trying to calm Neville down, though at the same time she did not forget to mention her own progress in learning magic. But suddenly frightened cries broke out all around them. Ghosts began drifting into the small room through one of the walls.
Hermione had, of course, already read about them and knew that they lived at Hogwarts, but she had never seen one for herself before. She stared at them open-mouthed with delight and amazement as they calmly discussed everyday matters, as though there were nothing extraordinary about their very existence.
"Move along now!" a stern voice suddenly said.
Hermione turned and saw that Professor McGonagall had returned. After sending the ghosts away, she told the first-years to form a line and led them through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
Hermione looked around with interest. The vast hall was lit by hundreds of candles floating in the air above four long tables. Firelight danced on the golden plates and goblets. Pupils from each House sat together at their own table, and now hundreds of faces turned towards the first-years as they entered. At the far end of the hall, on a slightly raised platform, stood another table where the teachers were seated.
Professor McGonagall led the first-years towards the teachers' table and told them to stand with their backs to the teachers, facing the hall full of pupils. Then she placed a stool in front of them and carefully set an old, badly battered hat on it. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then one of the folds in the hat opened like a mouth, and it suddenly began to sing in a slightly creaky voice. The first-years stared at it in amazement. Hermione could not take her eyes off it either as she listened to the song about the four Houses and the Sorting that was about to begin.
'So the Sorting Hat really is a hat after all?' Hermione thought in astonishment.
She had almost convinced herself that there might well be a position with such a strange name in the wizarding world. But the idea that an ordinary object could talk, think and make decisions all by itself somehow seemed completely unbelievable to her.
As soon as the Hat finished its song, the hall filled with loud applause. In response, it somehow managed a small bow by bending its pointed tip.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment in her hands and began calling the first-years up one by one. Each pupil walked over to the stool, sat down and put on the Hat. Sometimes it announced a House almost at once, while at other times it seemed to think for a few moments. It all turned out to be much simpler than Hermione had imagined. And that disappointed her a little. Apparently, there was not going to be any test after all, which meant that all the preparation she had done over the summer and the spells she had learned would not help her influence which House she ended up in.
Once sorted, each first-year took off the Hat and headed towards one of the four tables. A place was immediately made for them, and the pupils there waved and applauded in welcome. At some tables, deafening cheers broke out, while at others the newcomers were greeted more quietly. But even the Slytherins showed some enthusiasm when a new pupil joined their House.
Hermione watched as one bewildered first-year after another took a seat among the older pupils. With every name that was called, her turn drew closer. At some point, she stopped following the Sorting, smoothed down her robes even though they already fitted perfectly, and clasped her hands together so that no one would notice them trembling.
"Hermione Granger!" she suddenly heard.
Hermione took a deep breath and walked quickly towards the stool. It felt as though the whole hall was watching her and no one else. From somewhere off to the side came Nancy Magwort's whispers and giggles, but Hermione did not even turn her head.
She sat down and put on the Hat.
"Excellent memory, remarkable diligence, a quick mind and a tremendous eagerness to learn," a slightly creaky voice said almost at once, right inside her head.
Hermione flinched in surprise.
"You would be a splendid addition to Ravenclaw."
'Er... Miss Hat? Or Mr Hat? Is that you speaking?' she thought.
"Yes, it's me. You can call me the Sorting Hat."
'Sorting Hat, could I still go to Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw?'
"Gryffindor?" the Hat said in surprise. "But your knowledge and abilities clearly point to Ravenclaw. There you'll meet pupils who share your love of books and learning."
'I know,' Hermione replied politely. 'But I'd really like to go to Gryffindor.'
The Hat fell silent for a few moments.
"Well, you do have courage too. You entered a completely unfamiliar world without having the faintest idea what was waiting for you here. And you certainly don't lack stubbornness. Once you decide to achieve something, it won't be easy to make you back down."
Hermione was not entirely sure the last part was meant as a compliment.
"Besides," the Hat continued, "you don't just care about getting the right answers. When you think something is unfair, you find it hard to keep quiet, even if speaking up might get you into trouble."
'So can I go to Gryffindor?' Hermione asked politely again.
"If you're that sure of your choice, I won't argue," the Hat replied.
And at once it shouted for the whole hall to hear,
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Loud cheers and applause immediately came from one of the tables. Hermione jumped up from the stool, took off the Hat and hurried towards the Gryffindor table.
A place had already been made for her. The pupils were smiling, waving in welcome and thumping the table with their hands. The Weasley twins were cheering especially loudly. One of them waved to Hermione as if she were an old friend, while the other even moved along to offer her a seat beside him. There was no mockery or dislike on either of their faces.
Hermione sat down, still a little dazed by the noise. The tension that had been with her ever since she said goodbye to her parents was finally beginning to ease. It seemed she really was welcome here. And after such a warm reception from the twins, she was glad she hadn't found anyone to complain to about them.
A roar of laughter that swept through the hall brought Hermione back to herself. She turned and saw Neville jump up from the stool and dash towards the Gryffindor table, forgetting to take off the Sorting Hat. But what surprised Hermione even more was the Hat's decision. Such a shy and uncertain boy did not seem at all suited to that House. In her own mind, she had already placed him in Hufflepuff, so seeing Neville among the Gryffindors came as a real surprise. Still, that was not a bad thing at all. So far, Neville was the only Gryffindor pupil with whom something like a friendship had already begun to form.
The professor continued calling out names, and one by one the pupils found their new homes. Nancy Magwort was sorted into Slytherin. Draco Malfoy followed her there, the same pale, fair-haired boy whose speech on the train about useful connections had made Hermione so indignant.
Suddenly, a ghost in an old-fashioned doublet and a large ruff appeared at their table. Hermione immediately recognised him as one of the ghosts they had seen before the ceremony. Noticing that she was staring at him, the ghost gave her a polite nod.
"Sir Nicholas, at your service, young lady. I hope my somewhat transparent appearance doesn't make you too uncomfortable?"
"No, no, not at all," Hermione replied, a little taken aback.
Only then did she realise how intently she had been staring at him.
"How are you feeling?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
"At the moment, or in general since I died?" Sir Nicholas asked.
"Er... in general since you died," Hermione muttered, blushing slightly when she realised how silly her question had sounded.
"Quite well. I've been feeling much the same for the past five hundred years."
"And what do you do?" Hermione asked quickly, deciding to steer the conversation away from the subject of a ghost's health.
"Oh, I have quite a few duties," Sir Nicholas began explaining eagerly.
He proudly explained that he lived in Gryffindor Tower, was the ghost of their House and bore the title with proper dignity. Hermione would probably have kept asking questions, but at that moment Professor McGonagall called a name that made her turn at once towards the first-years still waiting their turn.
"Potter, Harry!"
A wave of excited voices swept through the hall. Pupils sitting far from the aisle half-rose from their seats, trying to catch a glimpse of the famous Harry Potter. Hermione craned her neck too, watching as he sat down on the stool and put on the Hat.
Gradually, the voices died away. In the silence that followed, the ticking of an old clock hanging on the wall behind the teachers' table could be heard clearly. The Hat seemed in no hurry to make its decision. The wait dragged on, and the pupils began exchanging uneasy glances. A low murmur of confusion was already spreading through the hall when the Hat finally shouted,
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry took off the Hat and headed towards the Gryffindor table. Despite the enthusiastic welcome, he looked a little confused and unsure of himself. The Gryffindors greeted him with deafening applause, and the Weasley twins, as expected, cheered louder than anyone else. When the noise finally died down, Professor McGonagall continued the Sorting, calling out the names of the remaining pupils.
The last first-year had barely taken their seat when Albus Dumbledore rose from the teachers' table. He welcomed the pupils, raised his goblet and waved a hand. The empty dishes instantly filled with food. Roast meat, potatoes, pies, vegetables and jugs of different juices appeared on the table. The smells of spices and fresh baking mingled in the air, and only then did Hermione realise just how hungry she was after the long journey.
For the first few minutes, the main sound at the table was the clatter of cutlery and plates. Then the conversation gradually picked up. The older pupils began telling the newcomers stories about Hogwarts and the things that went on within its walls.
"Professor McGonagall is Head of our House," said a student who had introduced himself as Percy Weasley. "She may seem strict, but she's always fair. And she's very good at her subject too, Transfiguration."
"Transfiguration?" Hermione repeated with obvious interest. "I think that's the most interesting subject of all. And, actually, Professor McGonagall came to our house."
"What for?" asked the boy sitting opposite her.
"To invite me to Hogwarts."
Only after saying it did Hermione realise that everyone now knew she had been born into a Muggle family. She tensed instinctively and quickly glanced at the pupils sitting nearby, expecting to see the same contempt Theodore Flibust had shown towards her family at the station, and the same disdain Nancy Magwort had shown when talking about Muggle-borns on the train.
But no one smirked or looked down on her. The pupils around her simply waited with interest for her to continue. Encouraged by their reaction, Hermione told them about McGonagall's visit and how she had first learned about the existence of the wizarding world.
"What can you do here after lessons?" Hermione asked when she had finished her story.
An older girl sitting nearby, with short dark hair and blue eyes, turned to her.
"Oh, there's loads to do here!" she replied. "Some people play Quidditch or help the House team prepare for matches, while others go to different clubs. I'm interested in Potions myself, so I go to the Chilling Potions Club, which Professor Snape runs. He may not be particularly friendly, but when it comes to Potions, he's second to none. I think he's one of the best in the field, so you can forgive some of his odd ways."
"Why is it called the Chilling Potions Club?" Hermione asked, interested.
"Because our meetings are usually held in winter, when it's cold. Low temperatures are important for many of the potions we study and make. That gives us ideal conditions for our experiments," the older girl replied.
"Interesting," Hermione said. "Is there a club that studies or makes amulets?"
Ever since buying the amulet, which was still hidden beneath her robes, Hermione had become more and more interested in such things. She had even ordered several books in Diagon Alley, hoping to unravel the mystery of her purchase. But none of what she had read had helped her understand either where the amulet had come from or what power it contained.
"Yes, there's a club called Relicium. Professor Dumbledore himself runs it. Though the meetings are quite rare because he's often busy. Why do you ask?" the older girl asked.
"Well, it's just..." Hermione began uncertainly. "I saw an antique shop in Diagon Alley, and there were lots of amulets whose magical properties no one had been able to identify, so I got curious. I like solving mysteries in general," she added quickly.
The dark-haired girl laughed.
"If that club taught people how to tell what power was hidden in an amulet, all those amulets would have been bought up long ago."
Hermione pressed her lips together in disappointment.
"I see," she said, her earlier enthusiasm gone.
"Don't be disappointed," the older girl said at once, trying to reassure her. "Everyone who goes to the club says it's worth it. Dumbledore knows how to get people interested, you know."
Once the main courses were over, the tables changed again. This time, so many desserts appeared in front of the pupils that Hermione hardly knew where to look. Pies gleamed with sweet fillings, cakes were decorated with swirls of cream, piles of biscuits rose beside them, and brightly coloured sweets shimmered in new shades whenever someone picked them up.
"Wow!" she heard Ron Weasley exclaim.
Following his gaze, Hermione immediately saw what had caught his attention. In the very centre of the table stood an enormous cake. But even more striking than the cake itself was the lion, the symbol of Gryffindor, slowly pacing around it. It had been made from sugar, chocolate and jelly so skilfully that it looked almost alive. Its candyfloss mane stirred slightly with every step, its marzipan eyes gleamed, and every now and then a quiet growl came from its half-open mouth.
Looking around the Great Hall, Hermione noticed that similar cakes stood on the other tables as well. Each was decorated with an animal representing its House. At the Slytherin table, a green snake slithered across the surface of the cake. It hissed angrily and every now and then puffed a small cloud of silvery smoke from its mouth. On the Ravenclaw cake, an eagle sat proudly, spreading its large wings from time to time as though it were about to take flight. And on the Hufflepuff cake, a badger bounded cheerfully between mounds of cream, disappearing behind one and then popping out again on the other side.
Hermione helped herself to several different desserts. Gradually, the dishes emptied, and the pupils reached for second helpings less and less often. By the end of dinner, hardly anyone dared eat another bite for fear they might burst. At last, the remaining food vanished from the tables, and Dumbledore rose from his seat.
The noise in the Great Hall began to die down.
"Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. 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. 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…"
The mention of the school caretaker immediately caught Hermione's interest. Not long ago, the Weasley twins had dubbed her 'Mrs Filch', and now she was especially curious to see the man they had compared her to.
As he said the caretaker's name, Dumbledore gestured slightly towards the entrance to the Great Hall. Standing there in the doorway was a thin man with hollow cheeks and a heavy, unfriendly stare. He glared at the pupils as though he already suspected every one of them of some wrongdoing.
Hermione immediately realised that this was Mr Filch.
'And they think I'm like him?' she thought indignantly.
Hermione continued staring at the caretaker in indignation and missed the rest of Dumbledore's speech. A discordant chorus of voices suddenly rising all around her brought her back to herself. She flinched, quickly looked around and realised that the whole hall had started singing the school song. She did not know the words, so she could only mumble along with everyone else, trying to join in on the last few words of each line.
After the school song, the pupils began making their way to their dormitories. Percy, the Gryffindor prefect, quickly gathered the first-years from his House around him, counted them and confidently led them out of the Great Hall.
Hermione fell into step beside him. Despite being tired after the long day, she still had plenty of questions and immediately began asking them. Percy did not brush her off once, which quickly earned her respect. And while making sure none of the first-years fell behind, he still managed to explain in detail where each corridor led, which staircases were worth remembering, and why some doors at Hogwarts were not always where you expected to find them.
Compared with his younger brothers, especially the twins, Percy seemed remarkably serious and sensible. He clearly knew the school well and took his duties as a prefect very seriously. Hermione became increasingly certain that she and Percy would have no trouble getting along. In her opinion, this was exactly what a good prefect should be like.
Hermione was so busy talking to Percy that she hardly noticed when they reached Gryffindor Tower. Before long, the first-years were in their common room, where Percy sent the girls one way and the boys another.
Hermione climbed the stairs with three other first-year girls, entered the dormitory and looked around with interest. The room was small but very cosy. There were four spacious four-poster beds with soft velvet bedspreads in shades of red and gold. The belongings brought up from the train had already been placed beside each one, and the names of their new occupants glowed above the beds.
In the far corner stood a small round table surrounded by armchairs and soft pouffes. Several glowing orbs hung above it, filling that corner of the room with a gentle light. Against another wall stood a large dressing table with a mirror and neatly arranged combs.
As Hermione looked around the room, one of the girls, who had long fair hair, walked over to the mirror. At once, a soft light appeared around its edges, and the mirror suddenly spoke.
"You look tired today. I suggest you get some rest. Tomorrow, I'll be happy to advise you on how best to style your hair and which accessories would make you look fresher."
The girl's mouth fell open in surprise, but the light around the mirror had already faded, and it became an ordinary mirror again. She stared at it for a few more seconds, then walked over to the bed opposite Hermione's. Smiling, she held out her hand in greeting.
"Hi. I'm Lila."
Hermione gave her a tired smile and introduced herself.
"I'm Hermione."
"What town are you from?" Lila asked.
"Oakridge. It's a suburb of London."
"I've never heard of it." Hermione's new acquaintance shrugged unconcernedly. "I live in York, in a manor house right on the edge of the city. Our family moved there recently, and I like it. There aren't many Muggles around to worry about, so we don't have to hide too carefully. My dad's an Auror. He works at the York branch of the Ministry of Magic. It's fairly quiet there, nothing like it was in London. Mum looks after the house, and she also likes painting magical pictures. So the whole house is spotless and full of paintings," Lila finished cheerfully. "What do your parents do?"
"My parents are dentists. They're doctors who treat people's teeth. They're Muggles," Hermione replied briefly and looked at Lila, waiting for her reaction.
She had decided that she would not be ashamed of her parents, but she still waited with some apprehension to see how her new dormmate would react. Lila, however, merely raised her eyebrows with interest and immediately began bombarding Hermione with questions. She wanted to know everything. How did Muggles cook food? What did they eat? How did they clean their homes? How did they treat teeth, and why did teeth need treating at all?
Lila grimaced slightly when she heard how teeth were treated.
"Poor Muggles. Isn't there some other way to stop their teeth from hurting?"
Hermione could not help smiling. It seemed that not all wizards cared what kind of family you were born into. After meeting Flibust and Nancy Magwort, that thought pleased her especially.
They talked for a while longer, but gradually tiredness began to take its toll. The other two girls had been asleep for some time, and the sound of their soft, steady snoring filled the room. Hermione wished Lila goodnight, climbed under the covers and made herself comfortable. As she drifted off to sleep, she was already looking forward to morning and her first day of lessons at Hogwarts.