SuperPotterLock- The Philosopher's Stone

The Sorting Hat

The door swung open at once. A tall black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

'The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall,' said Hagrid.

'Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.'

'She pulled the door wide, revealing the enormous Entrance Hall. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches and there was a magnificent marble staircase facing them, twisting away and up towards a ceiling that Harry couldn't see.

Professor McGonagall led them across the flagged stone floor and Harry heard the drone of hundreds of voices coming from behind a large door to their right. The rest of the school must already be here, waiting for them, however Professor McGonagall showed them into a small chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer to each other than they usually would have, and Castiel rubbed his arm nervously.

'Welcome to Hogwarts,' said Professor McGonagall. '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 houses will be something like your family within Hogwarts. 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 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 you house points, while any rule-breaking will lose you house points. At the end of the year, 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.

'The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the whole school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you're waiting.

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and Sherlock's messy curls that obscured most of his face. Harry nervously tried to flatten his own hair.

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

She left the chamber. Harry swallowed.

'How exactly do they sort us into our houses?' he asked Ron.

'Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking.'

Harry's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? He looked around to see everyone else looked just as terrified as he felt. Well, almost everyone. Sherlock didn't look terrified, at least not as far as Harry could tell through his hair; he looked like he was calculating something.

Sherlock was, in fact, examining the students around him. It was much more fun to think about their tiny habits than the Sorting Ceremony. It was such a tedious thing, but at least he had a chance to figure out if there was anyone worth talking to (there probably wasn't but there was always a chance).

Firstly, Harry Potter. Sherlock was very intrigued by his story and was fairly certain he would be able to figure out what had happened if he could review all the facts, although that was now impossible and Sherlock had no illusions concerning his readiness to interrogate Lord Voldemort. Secondly, Hermione Granger. She seemed intelligent enough but liked to show it an awful lot, not that Sherlock didn't like to show off, but there was something about her bossiness or her voice that had Sherlock's mouth twisting. Perhaps if he had more data he could make a better judgement. Then there was John Watson. Looking at all the facts he knew so far, he should be dull and utterly boring, but there was something in him that sparked an interest. Finally there was Castiel, whose surname was unknown to him. He seemed to be very secretive and Sherlock was determined to unravel the mystery that surrounded his demeanour. He looked him over and saw him holding his left elbow. It seemed to him that he'd broken it at some point and it had healed wrong, which had probably caused him a great deal of pain, but was now more of a nervous twitch or habit than actual, physical pain. Why was it he hated introducing himself? Why does he wear that trench coat and why was he so different from his older sister, who seemed twisted in many different ways? So many fascinating questions and Sherlock was sure he'd have plenty of time to answer them because, going by the look of him, he would be in Ravenclaw. Sherlock broke out of his reverie when he heard people uttering surprised gasps and looked to see about twenty, pearly-white and slightly transparent ghosts glide across the room, hardly glancing at the first-years.