Slytherin Chronicles : The Desire of Darkness

CHAPTER FIVE The Sorting Ceremony

The first-years barely had to wait two minutes before the door opened and they beheld a formidable-looking witch dressed in black and emerald green robes with what looked like an eagle's feather in her pointed hat.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the giant man.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here. You may go to the feast now, I shall see you there."

The witch swung the door wider to let the first years in, Hagrid sidling in after them and climbing higher and higher up an intricately carved marble staircase until he was out of sight.

The entrance hall was very spacious with such a high ceiling that you couldn't see it at all, and there were torches burning in brackets on the walls. Professor McGonagall led the group of first years across the left side of the marble floor and up the staircase that Hagrid had used until they reached a landing curving to the right. A smaller flight of stairs would take them through a wide stone archway and into another room.

Professor McGonagall stopped at the base of the second flight of stairs and faced the first years as they crowded around the landing, staring up at her uneasily. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said shortly. "You will attend the start-of-year feast very soon, but before you take your places in the Great Hall you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting Ceremony is one of the most important and interesting held at Hogwarts. While you are here your house will be, to some extent, your family within the school." She peered sternly around at them all through her spectacles.

"You will have classes with the appropriate year of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room. The four houses are called Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Each house possesses its own intriguing history and qualities and each has produced many excellent witches and wizards. I am Head of Gryffindor house.

"As for rewards: knowledge, good behaviour, and any other accomplishments will earn you house points, and any disobedience will deduct house points. The gain and loss of house points will contribute to winning or losing the House Cup at the end of the school year.

"If you are unsure about something, do not hesitate to inform your Head of House about it. I shall return for you in a couple of minutes and, in the meantime, please wait here quietly." And off she went up the stairs and through the stone archway.

"Is everything she says supposed to sound like she's memorised it out of Successful Speeches That Make An Impression?" Neve asked Roisin, a smile curling at the corners of her mouth.

Roisin snorted in return. "Do you have any idea about what we're supposed to do at the Sorting?" she whispered.

"I dunno. It didn't say anything about what we're supposed to do in Hogwarts, A History," replied Neve.

"You've actually read that thing? I'm still only up to the Foreword!" hissed Roisin. "Maybe we'll have to fight a dragon or something?"

Neve didn't get a chance to reply because Professor McGonagall was back, clutching a scroll of parchment tightly in her hand. "Follow me please, and don't push," she said, steering them up the stairs, under the arch, and into a vast hall - one much bigger than Neve had ever seen.

It was also the most magnificent room that she had ever set eyes on: all alit with candles that floated high up above the tables. Looking up, Neve saw an inky black ceiling spotted with glimmering stars and remembered reading in Hogwarts, A History that it was bewitched to mirror the sky outside the castle. Walking forward with her face tilted up, Neve thought it hard to believe that there was a ceiling at all.

The rest of the school was already assembled; the students sitting at their house tables and the teachers seated behind a long table at the end of the hall. Professor McGonagall led them down a set of stairs, through the aisle separating the four house tables, and right up to the dais in front of the teacher's seating place.

A four-legged stool held a patched and absolutely filthy wizard's hat on it. Quite suddenly, a tear like a mouth opened near the brim and the hat began to sing in a voice that projected loudly throughout the silent hall:

The Great Hall rang with applause when the hat finished singing. It bowed to each of the four house tables and resumed its still position on the stool, looking quite unremarkable.

Neve smiled to herself. A hat was going to do the sorting? That was fine then. At least there'd be no slaying of dragons, as Roisin had suggested. But the nervousness that she had been trying to smother popped out again. What if the Hat didn't put her in Slytherin? What if (unthinkable horror!) it put her in Hufflepuff? She remembered how Mr Coulden had once said that Hufflepuff house was the one for cowardly dull-witted fools, and Neve didn't think she could bear it if she were put there. But, then again, why should she be placed into Hufflepuff? Yes, she had patience, but she never really had to work hard to succeed. She simply took her talents and successes for granted.

But what if the hat decided she was a Gryffindor? Her father was most outspoken against that house, and if he didn't hate Neve already, he definitely would do so if she became a Gryffindor.

The only other house left was Ravenclaw, which Neve didn't think sounded bad, but it would be much safer for her to become a Slytherin than anything else. Well, I'll find out soon enough, she thought. I'm one of the very first on the list if it goes alphabetically.

Professor McGonagall turned to the students, unrolled the scroll of parchment she had been holding, and said, "When I read out your name, you will please sit on the stool, put on the hat, and wait until it tells you your house. Abbott, Hannah!"

A chubby girl with blonde pig-tails and a rubicund face staggered out of the throng of first years, put the hat on her head, and sat on the stool. Neve counted the seconds: one, two, three, four, five -

"HUFFLEPUFF!" yelled out the hat, and Hannah Abbott skipped off to sit at the Hufflepuff table, which was cheering loudly.

"Bones, Susan!"

A dazed-looking girl with sleepy eyes, a long face, and limp auburn hair dragged her feet to the stool and again Neve counted the seconds: one, two, three ...

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

"Going to be big competition for the Ravenclaws, that one. Dear me, she looks like she'd lose a battle of wits with a stuffed pigeon," Roisin whispered to Neve.

"Boot, Terry!"

One, two, three, four ...

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table next to the Hufflepuffs cheered loudly as the gangly black-haired Terry strutted off to join the rest of his house members. A few older students stood up to shake his hand. Evidently, Terry Boot came from a distinguished family.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

One, two, three, four, five, six ...

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brown, Lavender!"

A pretty girl, who seemed to have an elaborate lemon confection on her head rather than hair, put on the Hat and waited.

One, two, three, four...

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table on the left erupted with cheers, whistles and catcalling as Lavender pranced over to the Gryffindor table.

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

If Neve was right in reckoning that Millicent was the last of the B's, then she would be coming up and trying on the Hat any moment.

(One, two, three ...)

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Now she would be a very valuable ally for when we can't use our wands on our enemies," said Roisin. "Think we can bribe her with two dozen, real-size, chocolate trolls? Or should we opt for a more lasting approach and get her the real specimen instead? By the looks of her, it'd be a perfect match."

But Neve didn't get to reply because at that moment, her name was called out, and in observing the Slytherin table she had almost forgotten that she was likely to be sorted next.

"Go on," whispered Roisin, giving her a little push.

So Neve walked out of the first year crowd towards the stool and hat; her head held high, her eyes stonily grim. She put the Hat on her head and sat on the stool, nervously waiting. Neve began counting; the hat was silent for a second, two seconds, three seconds, four seconds ...

She began to panic, thinking that perhaps she was not magical enough to attend Hogwarts, and that she had made a mistake in coming here. How shameful it would be if she sat with the Hat on her head for a whole hour, only to hear Professor McGonagall announce that she was obviously not meant for Hogwarts!

Then, she heard a small voice speaking in her ear. "Don't fret, the Hogwarts Quill never makes a mistake! Because here you are ... Neve Coulden. And how very interesting ... and difficult. Excellent mind, I see. All that thirst for knowledge would be good in Ravenclaw ... but you have such high expectations for yourself ... and, what's this? Cunning and resourcefulness? ... how very Slytherin ... and courage! Perhaps Gryffindor would suit you ... though only to a certain degree ... no, you have more potential in being a Slytherin, for you have much of it in you, oh yes, very much ... but what do you think?"

Neve immediately began to think, "Not Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Not Hufflepuff or Gryffindor."

The Hat chuckled. "Hufflepuff! Oh no, you would not suit Hufflepuff well. And if you're not for Gryffindor, there's only one house that will suit you best ... SLYTHERIN!"

Neve heard the Hat announce the last word to the rest of the hall and, taking it off her head, walked over to the Slytherin table with relief. She suddenly noticed that she was getting quite a good bit of cheering from the Slytherins, and even Roisin, who was still in the crowd of first years waiting to be sorted, was yelling out, "Go Neve! Knew you had it in you!" but quailed as Professor McGonagall's stern gaze was sent in her direction.

But Neve had also noticed that one of the older Slytherin girls was giving her a look of disbelief mingled with contempt; she had dark blonde ringleted hair and very cold blue eyes. She was sitting five seats away from Millicent Bulstrode, and was the only one at the Slytherin table not applauding Neve as the hat pronounced her house. And, as Neve sat down opposite Millicent, the girl's mouth curved into a derisive smile which Neve knew very well because she had seen it on Narcissa Malfoy's face not a few times.

But the girl couldn't be a daughter of the Malfoys; Neve knew that they only had one child and that was Draco, but she couldn't help but acknowledge the resemblance between Narcissa Malfoy and this girl. To keep herself from slapping her, Neve turned her eyes back to the sorting where Hermione Granger was sitting on the stool with the Hat on her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" exclaimed the Sorting Hat.

Neve smirked as Hermione proudly walked over to sit at the Gryffindor table.

Later on, there was, "Longbottom, Neville!"

Neve chortled as Neville tripped on his robes before finally sitting on the stool, with the Sorting Hat jammed on his head, for about five minutes. And when the Hat had finally called out his house ("GRYFFINDOR!"), Neville trotted off with it still on his head. He ran back, red as a beetroot, and gave it to "MacDougal, Morag!" amid peals of laughter.

After Morag MacDougal, a boy with flaxen curly locks and mischievous blue eyes, came to sit at the Slytherin table, Neve realised that it was Roisin's turn and fixed her eyes intently on her friend.

One, two, three, four ...

"SLYTHERIN!"

Grinning broadly, Roisin whipped the Hat off her head and made her way to the Slytherin table. "Well, we made it!" she said to Neve, as she sat down beside her.

"Good thing, too. It'd be a shame to have my life end just when it's only beginning," sighed Neve.

Then she suddenly spun around in her seat when she heard, "Malfoy, Draco!"

The silver-blonde haired boy who was the said Draco Malfoy swaggered out of the now much smaller group of first years to the four-legged stool, and put the Hat on his head. Barely three seconds had passed before it cried out, "SLYTHERIN!" and Malfoy sat next to Morag MacDougal.

He caught Neve's eye and his eyebrows contracted slightly. He seemed to barely recognise her but, after all, they hadn't seen each other for four years. But then he smiled malevolently and called across the table, "Didn't think I'd see you at this table, Neve. I'd always thought you'd be one of those perfect goody-good Gryffindors."

"What with you not even showing signs of magic at nine years of age, Malfoy, I'd have thought you wouldn't even make it to Hogwarts!" she sneered, putting special emphasis on his name.

Draco's eyes narrowed and a tinge of pink appeared on his cheeks. "Where did you get that from?"

"I have ears, you know," said Neve, and turned away. For a second, she felt a twinge of guilt at making a come-back like that; after all, she had only started developing magical skills when she was nine, too. But she immediately put the thought right out of her head - no way was she going to apologise to Malfoy.

"You know Malfoy?" whispered Roisin.

"His family lives about seven hours away from us, and they're very friendly with my parents," explained Neve.

"Oh, you poor thing," sighed Roisin, giving Neve a pitying glance. "Now you're going to have to put up with him for the whole year!"

Neve shrugged submissively. "I can do that. I mean, if I've survived living with my parents for eleven years then I can definitely put up with that git."

She and Roisin both clapped when a friendly-looking boy by the name of Theodore Nott, who had dark blonde hair that looked very much like the hair of the girl who hadn't cheered for Neve, sat down on the other side of Draco Malfoy.

Theodore and the girl couldn't have made more an emotional contrast to each other, however; the girl had a definite gleam of malice in her eyes and her laugh rattled Neve's nerves. Theodore had no such effect on Neve. His face was as pale and pointed as Draco's, but Theodore had a certain amiability sketched all over it that Draco didn't have.

As the sorting continued, Pansy Parkinson, the girl who had screamed when she saw Neville's toad, sat down next to Theodore, giving Neve and Roisin imperious stares. Roisin groaned. "And she's going to be sleeping in our dormitory? Save us!"

But then a name was called that made the entire hall break into whispers and muttering. "Potter, Harry!"

Neve stared as a small boy with jet-black hair and round glasses stepped forward and walked to the Hat, which fell right over his eyes as he put it on.

"Harry Potter, is it?" asked Roisin curiously, rising half-way in her seat to get a look at him. "Looks like any normal boy."

"Well, what do you expect him to look like? Albus Dumbledore?" snapped Neve, pulling her back down onto her seat.

"I was only commenting. He's supposed to be a great hero and everything, and heroes are supposed to look like powerful and mysterious warriors," mumbled Roisin. "This one looks like he couldn't kill a fly!"

"Well, you never know what could be hidden behind that traumatised little mask of his. He's in the right house for suicidal tendencies, however!" Neve added, as Harry walked over to the Gryffindor table, barely realising that he was getting the loudest cheer yet.

The red-headed third-year Weasley twins, Fred and George, were yelling, "We got Potter! We got Potter!" and a few of the older Slytherins were glaring at the Gryffindor table and sullenly muttering under their breath.

When the cheering had finally subsided, a pair of twin girls were sorted in their appropriate houses - one in Ravenclaw and the other in Gryffindor - but both of them with the same kind of thick ringlets that many other girls had on various tables. "I thought the hairstyles of the fifties went out of style with their wearers!" exclaimed Roisin in disgust. "Ugh! Tell me, what happened to all the Punk Rock witches?"

"They were all sorted into Slytherin," said Neve, nodding at a third year girl sitting several seats away from Millicent Bulstrode, with vivid green and black striped hair that matched the Slytherin badge on her robes.

A smile spread slowly across Roisin's mouth. "Hey ... that's Patrin! How in hell did she ever persuade the Rosiers to let her do that? Cool!" she breathed enviously. She caught Patrin's eye and waved energetically. Patrin waved back, grinning. But Roisin didn't get to ask her about the hair yet because Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts, stood up as the sorting had ended with "Zabini, Blaise!" becoming a Slytherin.

He was very tall and wiry-looking, had an extraordinarily long silver beard just like his hair, and half-moon glasses perched on his long, crooked nose. He opened his arms wide and smiled around at them all, as though he was thanking them for providing him with a wonderful treat.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to students, teachers, and ghosts for a new school year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our marvellous feast, there are just a few words I would like to say. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"

There was a general sound of laughter and applause but Neve could see a few Slytherins shaking their heads dejectedly.

"And now, my dear friends, let our banquet begin!" added Dumbledore, beaming around the hall.

And, as Neve turned back to the table, the golden platters had become loaded with food; the silver jugs full to the brim with pumpkin juice; the baskets of bread rolls overflowing. And there was the wide variety of food: roast pork, roast beef, roast chicken, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, sausages, bacon and steak, chips, salads, peas, carrots, fried onions, sweet potatoes, gravy, ketchup, mayonnaise, soups made of everything that was edible, Yorkshire pudding, and also mint humbugs.

So, deciding to start with something light, she helped herself to some tomato soup and began eating. Beside her, Roisin had piled her golden plate with pieces of beef, chicken, pork, various salads, and a whole heap of chips which were swimming in pools of gravy and ketchup. But no matter how much she put on her plate, there was always room for more. The plates magically expanded if they felt there wasn't enough room for the food so it wouldn't all fall off.

Neve, of course, was very hungry and finished her bowl of soup in no time, but she was amazed to see that, by the time she had finished it, Roisin was heaping more meat, potatoes, and salads onto her plate and pouring gravy over the whole lot.

Roisin noticed her staring and laughed. "I know I look piggish eating all this but really, how many times do you get a feast like this at home? So I'm making the most of it while it lasts," she explained, twirling her fork around. "By the way, you should get some bread rolls with that soup; it makes it more enjoyable."

"What are you, the Cook of the Century?" teased Neve but, nevertheless, she searched around the table for a basket of bread rolls.

The closest one turned out to be almost at the very end of the table, where Pansy Parkinson was sitting. "Oi, Parkinson! Pass the rolls, please!" Neve called down the table.

Pansy gave her a withering look and said, "Come and get them yourself, Neve."

But Neve was beginning to feel sick of the pug-faced Pansy and her curls so, abandoning patience, she reached her hand out to the rolls and focused very hard on them, willing one to come to her. And suddenly, a crusty golden roll was slowly floating up from the basket, and then zoomed straight into Neve's hand.

Pansy's mouth fell open; half the table had stopped eating and watched Neve as she summoned the roll, with a smug look on her face. She knew it would happen; she did the very same thing during a dinner with her parents, and it was the first sign of magic she'd shown. Even Draco Malfoy looked slightly impressed at this performance.

"Wow, Neve! You can already do Psyche Summoning? You must be one hell of a genius!" said Roisin, astounded.

"Actually it was the first magical thing I did when I was still at home. I couldn't be bothered getting up out of my seat so I just willed in my mind for a roll to come to me, and here it is! I don't think Pansy's too pleased though," Neve replied, feeling the jealous stares of the said girl.

"Well, of course she wouldn't be! I mean, if you can do wandless magic by now, there's no knowing what other cool stuff you can do."

Neve shrugged. She thought Roisin was taking this way too excitedly , and Neve wasn't the type to brag about her achievements out of arrogance. So she decided to take Roisin's mind off the matter.

"Roisin, do you know that blonde girl over there? The one with the ringlets?" asked Neve.

To her surprise, Roisin's face darkened as she turned to glare at the said girl. "Arlene Avery, certified bitch. She's only in her third year but Patrin's told me she acts like she owns Hogwarts and everyone in it. Her father's a Death Eater, did you know? But he never got punished because he wormed his way out by saying that he was bewitched." She spat the last word with ferocity and her eyes narrowed as she watched Arlene throw back her head and laugh.

"She never had to deal with her father getting locked up in Azkaban or being killed by an Auror. Julian Avery is still alive and very much out there. And you can't trust him or any of the Averys! Well, except for Asmin. She's the one to the left of Patrin, with the green and silver hair. They're best friends, you know, Patrin and Asmin. And I can't blame Pat; Asmin's nothing like the usual Averys. Oh, and Julian's wife, Morveyn, runs a shop in Knockturn Alley."

"Is that how they're keeping rich?" asked Neve.

Roisin nodded. "They sell all this freaky Dark Arts stuff that's probably in the top one million on the Ministry of Magic's Illegal Items list. Apparently they make really good profit out of it; must be heaps of Dark witches and wizards around. Maybe we should start selling illegal stuff at Hogwarts ... " she trailed off, thoughtfully. "We could make a fortune as big as Malfoy's in just our first year here!"

"Not a bad idea, but it'll be very hard to execute as non-Slytherin teachers will probably be watching our every move. However ..." Neve also trailed off, reflectively staring at the ceiling. "If we're discreet enough, we could get away with it ... so long as no members of the syndicate let their tongues wag."

Both girls were suddenly distracted from their illegal plottings by the appearance of the puddings. This time the golden platters were hosts to apple pies, mountains of ice-cream in every flavour, treacle and fruit tarts, jam doughnuts, chocolate éclairs, rice pudding, trifle, jelly, chocolate mud cake, all sorts of sweet sauces, many different pasties and flans, and, every couple of metres, there was a bowl stacked with fruit.

As soon as Neve spotted the chocolate mud cake behind a bowl of fruit to her right her mouth began to water and she felt the familiar desire for the delicious-looking dessert. She asked Roisin to pass her the platter and deftly placed two large slices onto her plate and began to consume them slowly, savouring the truly magical taste.

"Finally you're eating as much as I am," said Roisin in relief, pouring hot caramel sauce over her blueberry ice cream. "But even I have to ask, why so much chocolate?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you that I have the world's worst addiction to chocolate. It's one of my biggest vices - maybe even the biggest - and I just couldn't live without it!" Neve declared with extraordinary passion that Roisin never imagined she'd see.

"All that enthusiasm for chocolate?" she inquired, fascinated. "What about all the other great food, like roast lamb, for starters?"

Neve shuddered. "I hate lamb. And pork. And beef. Well, beef isn't so bad as the other two, but chicken is just about the only meat that I can eat happily."

"Why? You don't feel sorry for the poor ickle chickens?" sniggered Roisin.

"No, I just like chicken the best," replied Neve patiently. "I don't have to like everything that you or anyone else likes, do I?"

"But it's good meat going to waste!" protested Roisin. "And everyone likes chocolate!"

"Ah, but they don't like chocolate in the same way as I do," answered Neve mystically. "Chocolate is a form of art meant to be enjoyed with not only the taste buds, but with the mind and the soul. Eating chocolate is a truly fantastic experience, but everyone else just ruins it by being total hogs!"

"And you're not one?" Roisin eyed Neve's plate, which had a couple of brown crumbs left on it.

"That's not the point! I took so much because I love chocolate and I don't get much of it at home. I meant that people eat it like hogs; they don't enjoy the moment for what it is. That's the difference between me and the rest of the world's chocolate lovers."

Roisin stared at her, bewildered and amused, and shook her head as Neve helped herself to a couple of chocolate éclairs. "Well, you can go ahead and enjoy this 'art' you see in chocolate, but I think I'll stay with the simple way and just eat chocolate like any other simple human being."

"I'm not asking you to change."

"And that's one of the many things I like about you. Even if you are a bit odd in your eating habits."

And the two girls continued eating, each in their own way, and listening in to the various conversations going on around them.

On one side of Draco Malfoy sat the Bloody Baron - a haughty, disagreeable-looking ghost who had silver bloodstains all over his robes. At this moment, he had a smile on his mouth that didn't reach his eyes and was saying in a heavy accent, "Yes, Slyzerin hez been vinning ze House Cup for six years in a row! Ond it vould be very terrible ond shamefool, if Slyzerin lost it for ze first time in six years. So mek sure zat you don't let us down, eh?"

A little further up the table, a fifth-year boy with a trollish look of cunning on his face was discussing Quidditch, the wizarding sport, with the dark-haired third-year boy next to him. "We're sure to win the Quidditch Cup again this year, Montague. The Gryffindors haven't had a decent team since that Charlie Weasley left, and the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws don't stand a chance!"

"This year, maybe, but now they've got that Potter, and he could easily get on the team next year, Marcus. I've heard that his father was a brilliant Chaser!" whined Montague.

"Well, Potter or no Potter, we're going to win this year, and if Higgs gets complacent next year ... well, you know what'll happen," sneered Marcus.

Just then, the puddings vanished and Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat again. He waited until the noise had subsided before beginning. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I have some notices that I would like to give you. The forest in the Hogwarts grounds is, of course, forbidden to all students, so if you do not wish to receive punishment please avoid that area. Also, no magic is to be used in the corridors of this castle between lessons as Mr Filch, our caretaker, was kind enough to remind me of.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term, so if anyone would like to play for their house team this year you should contact Madam Hooch. And lastly, I would like to impose upon you the very severe pain you will endure if you should enter the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side this year. You have been warned, so act as you may."

Neve and Roisin exchanged intrigued looks at this statement. "Can't be anything worse than Arlene Avery with two extra heads," Roisin said confidently. "Let's go check it out this weekend, shall we?"

"Are you sure you didn't bribe the Sorting Hat to sort you into Slytherin?" inquired Neve suspiciously. "That I-love-danger attitude of yours is frighteningly Gryffindor, you know."

"Nah. It's just a love of adventure and a big amount of self-confidence," shrugged Roisin.

"And now, before we hurry off to bed, let us sing the old school song!" Dumbledore exclaimed, and flicked his wand so that a long golden ribbon shot out of it, floated towards the ceiling, and formed itself into shimmering words. "Pick a favourite tune, and off we go!"

Neve thought it sounded awful and very inharmonious. The general multitude of voices sounded like drunken sailors and everyone finished at different times. Neve observed that many Slytherins hadn't joined in singing, and certainly not in applauding the ones who did. She and Roisin were one of the very few at their table who had, and they did it purely out of humour and fun. Obviously, many Slytherins didn't think much of Dumbledore and his ways.

But Neve couldn't help liking him, though in a grudging sort of way, just like she couldn't help herself liking Mr Ollivander, although her affection for Dumbledore surpassed that for the old wand-maker. This was, perhaps, because Dumbledore seemed to radiate kindness, understanding, and amiability from the very blueness of his eyes.

"Ah, music, a magic beyond anything we do here. But now it's off to bed with you! Prefects, please escort the first-years of your houses to the common-rooms!" said Dumbledore.

As the older Slytherins began getting up from their seats and making for the common-room, Marcus Flint stood up and barked to the first years, "Right, you lot, follow me! And you'd better not get lost 'cause I'm not going to go find you."

All the first years trudged behind him as he led them out of the Great Hall, down a staircase on their right, and down again. The further down they went, the dryer it became, to Neve's surprise. She supposed the torches burning merrily in bronze brackets on the now black stone walls kept the cold and mould out.

They were definitely in the dungeons of the castle, but they weren't as bad as Neve thought they would be. In fact, it was more or less like the upstairs corridors, just not so bright. Here, too, there were moving paintings on the walls and statues of people Neve had never seen in any book before lining them.

After a few more minutes of undisturbed walking, Flint finally stopped in front of a bare stretch of stone wall. It looked extremely unremarkable to Neve but, when Flint said "Serpentine", the wall slid open to reveal a small sort of landing with stairs leading down into the Slytherin common-room: a spacious, lavishly decorated room with dark mahogany tables and green leather armchairs and sofas.

Green lamps burned from their places on the walls and one large ornamented one dangled from the ceiling. Beautiful tapestries hung from the walls, many of which had pictures of snakes on them, and a magnificent carved fireplace on the left was home to a roaring emerald fire.

All in all, it looked like a comfortable room not devoid of elegance and refinement and, to Neve's great pleasure, there was no mustiness in the air or mildew on any of the furniture or decorations.

"Well, this is the Slytherin common-room. Girls' dormitories to the left, boys' to the right," directed Flint, before hurrying through the door on the right and out of sight. The first year boys also filed through the door into their dormitory, and the girls through a door on their left into theirs.

The first-year dormitory for the girls was decorated very much like the common-room and it also had a green fire quietly crackling away, though much smaller. The five four-poster beds were hung with emerald green velvet curtains and a chest of drawers stood beside every girl's bed. Their trunks had already been brought in, each standing in front of their owner's bed.

Neve and Roisin immediately fell into their beds, which turned out to be very comfortable and warm. Unfortunately, though, they could hear Pansy Parkinson and her new friend, Blaise Zabini, as they whispered while putting their hair into magical curlers that you wouldn't feel when you went to bed.

Neve was slightly surprised to find that Pansy had taken to Blaise, because she had thought that Pansy would like to be friends with girls more like herself - controlling and snobby. Blaise Zabini was very much the opposite, as far as Neve could tell.

Although she had the same thick shoulder-length curls that Pansy had, but of a slightly lighter colour and more soft-looking, she also possessed enchanting pale green eyes, a delicate nose and rosebud mouth, and a plump rosy face. She had smiled shyly at Neve when she Summoned the bread roll at the feast, and Neve couldn't help smiling back when Pansy wasn't looking.

Perhaps Blaise wasn't as docile and timid as she looked, and actually had a fiery passionate spirit tucked away behind her sweet little girl exterior, and Neve hoped so. Otherwise the poor girl would end up as Pansy's slave for the rest of her pretty little existence, and it would be shame to waste such loveliness that way.

At last, after about a quarter of an hour, Pansy and Blaise turned off the lamps, and all was finally quiet in the girls' dormitory.