She smiles, standing up straight as the first years gather around - daring, even, to slip to the front and wave a bit. "Hey Hagrid!" she calls.

He grins indulgently and stoops down briefly.  "Made it okay, I see," he says warmly.  Then he straightens up and resumes his calling.

"You're friends with Mr. Hagrid?" whispers Neville, who looks a bit intimidated by him.

"Yeah," she whispers back. "He's really nice. I stayed with him over the summer."

"Follow me!" he calls once everyone's assembled, and leads them down the dark path by which he came.  It's a few minutes before they see anything more interesting than trees and shadows, but then they come upon a vast still black lake, reflecting the distant yellow pinpoints of light that are the windows of the Castle Hogwarts, on the opposite shore atop a high cliff.  There are little boats clustered by the near shore, that look just like the one Hagrid took Harriet away from her aunt and uncle in.

"Four to a boat," Hagrid calls.  "They'll row themselves across once everyone's in."

Four's enough for her, Neville, Hermione, and Ami - she glances at her friends to confirm they're all also thinking of getting in a boat together.

"Oh, good, I was hoping we could stick together," Hermione says.

Neville smiles.

"Yeah!" Ami walks over to make sure the boat stays steady while everyone else climbs in.

Harriet grins at him, sitting near the front.

Neville and Hermione climb in side by side behind her.

And Ami gets in last, settling in to wait the boats launching.

His gaze keeps drifting to Hogwarts.

Hagrid, who's standing up straight in a boat to himself, turns toward the castle, stomps one foot formally, and calls out, "Forward!"

The boats depart - it's a bit of a lurch getting them un-beached, but then they move swiftly, smoothly, and silently over the water.

Harriet grips tightly to the boat's edge, a bit uneasy, but -

Hogwarts is fascinating.

She - feels odd, at the thought of talking into the silence.

The cliff looms, stark and straight and almost vertiginous, as they approach.

"Mind your heads!" Hagrid calls as the boats make their way toward and through a curtain of ivy hiding a wide but low-ceilinged passage under the cliff.  (Hagrid himself has to sit down in his boat and hunch.)

She ducks down a bit lower than she probably needs to.

The pass under the cliff leads to an underground harbor, and the path Hagrid leads them along away from the harbor leads to the Hogwarts lawn.  They emerge next to a wide dirt road that leads to a wide flight of stone stairs and a pair of wide wooden-and-iron doors.  Opposite the road from them are a group of empty and apparently-horseless carriages - apparently the non-first-year students got here by a different, faster route.

Hagrid ascends the stairs swiftly, and knocks three times, BOOM BOOM BOOM, upon the wooden doors.

She hops up the stairs after him, not really less nervous than the other students, but somewhat less affected by it.

The door creaks open, inward, apparently on its own, revealing a tall thin witch in emerald green, whose eyes scan across the gathered students.

"Professor McGonagall," Hagrid says formally, standing up a bit straighter.

"Mr. Hagrid," the woman replies.  "No problems?"

"No ma'am," Hagrid says, shaking his head.

"I'm glad.  I can take them from here."

Hagrid nods, and enters through the wide double doors as she steps aside for him.

She turns to address the gathered students.  "Follow me, please," she says in a carrying voice.

Harriet is not first in line to follow, but she does obediently file in, staring around, wide eyed, at her first glimpse of the inside of Hogwarts.

The Entrance Hall alone is larger than the Dursleys' entire house, huge and grand and palpably ancient, lit by torches and chandeliers, with a vast marble staircase opposite the entrance and another grand double-door to the right.  Professor McGonagall leads them to neither of these, but to a smaller doorway in one corner of the room.

Wow!!!!!!

This is definitely what a magic castle should look like.

(Harriet's only kinda watching where she's walking.)

The next chamber is smaller and less grand, but still large enough to comfortably fit forty eleven year olds, an elderly professor, and a stool with an extremely old, extremely floppy-looking black wizard's hat.

She turns, with a swish of her robes, to face the assembled first-years, as they all gather into the room behind her.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," she says smartly.  "My name is Minerva McGonagall, and I am the Deputy Headmistress of this school; you may call me Professor McGonagall."

"In some minutes," she says, "the Start of Term Banquet will begin, in the Great Hall to the right of the Entrance Hall; but before this, it is necessary to conduct the Sorting.  Each of you must be sorted into one of the four Houses of Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.  These Houses will serve you as a sort of surrogate family during your stay at Hogwarts; each House has its own dormitory and common room, and prefects and a head boy and girl who you can go to if you need help or support.  The Sorting Ceremony begins here; the Sorting Hat," she indicates the wizard's hat on the stool, "will speak with each of you in turn to assess which house you are most suited to.  Then, you will all enter the Great Hall, and one by one you will be called to the front of the Hall, and the Hat will announce your House."

She shifts from foot to foot, not muttering like a lot of the other kids are, but - anxious, kinda.

(She's - scared, she thinks, of being sorted. Probably the Hat won't think she's any good.)

(But, well, she's gotta try.)

"I will call your names in alphabetical order," she says.

Of the Four, the first up is Auberon, Ami.

He's serious, going up, and sits under the Hat with his expression firm and determined.

Hello, Mr. Auberon, the hat says.

Hello?

Something of a variety-pack family, I see, the hat says.  I could see you in a number of places... but where do you think you belong, Mr. Auberon?

He considers this question rather seriously.

My dad's a Ravenclaw... But I'm not sure I'm the same sort of... Person whose main interest is knowledge, like him? I want to help people and change things. Bravery sounds like... A good trait to have. So does working hard and being loyal.

So does being ambitious, actually. Nothing changes if we don't try. And fixing everything is - I think it's more important than being brave about it, or working hard about it. It'd be okay if being a lazy coward could save people. But everyone acts like Slytherins are all evil.

People will find reasons to hate any of the Houses, I'm afraid, the hat says.  What's important is which House will help you grow into your best self.

I don't know how they'll make me grow, though. Doesn't that depend a lot on who's in them?

Mm, that's true, the hat says.  Sorting can be a difficult job, and a difficult choice.  But in general, the students in each House do take that House's values fairly seriously, so they must be fairly decent at teaching newcomers to take them seriously as well.

He nods. I think... I don't think I have any trouble being brave, and my dad's been teaching me to be smart my whole life. So probably Hufflepuff or Slytherin will help me most?

I'll see what I can do, Mr. Auberon, the hat says.  Good day.

Thanks.

He takes the Hat off his head and slides off the stool for the next student.

Professor McGonagall will call a number of names in succession, and a number of eleven-year-olds will spend anywhere from a few seconds to a few minutes under the hat before it pokes McGonagall to take it off.  It's not long before she gets to "Evans, Harriet.”

She steps up and sits under the Hat, a bit nervously.

The hat - chuckles, inside her mind, sort of affectionately.  Oh, you look like a Gryffindor to me.

But I'm not brave at all.

Aren't you? the hat says slyly.

I'm scared all the time. Of everything. I don't think that's bravery.

You and Godric would have a lot to talk about.  Miss Evans, you can't be brave if you're not scared.

That doesn't really sound right...

Bravery isn't the absence of fear, it's the finding of strength or determination within yourself to overcome that fear.  Often it feels less like being brave than like being backed into doing something you're scared of doing by, for example, your own conscience.

...Huh.

That sounds familiar. Or... An unwillingness to lay down and die.

Indeed, the hat says.

And... You think I'm that kind of brave?

The kind of brave people think of when they think of Gryffindor, you mean?  I think you're a kind of brave that Godric would have recognized and respected, and I think you're a kind of brave that Gryffindor house knows how to respect and nurture.  I think you're a kind of brave that can do more than its bearers often think.  And I think you could become almost any kind of brave you decided to try to.

Wow. That's a lot.

Being a Gryffindor sounds really terrifying. They'll know, probably, because people always know, how constantly, thoroughly scared she always is, of basic silly things.

But...

The Hat's talking like it's - like it's something important, noble.

A terrifying path - and one she kind of wants to walk, even if she's shaking the entire time.

I think... I'm okay trying it.

I hesitate to promise anyone a particular House before I've spoken to everyone, but I like you for Gryffindor very much.

She thinks. I'd be fine in Hufflepuff, too, if sorting ends up weird. I was assuming I'd end up there probably anyways...

Hufflepuff House has a great deal to commend it, the hat says, and I have no doubt you'd grow into a fine wizard there as well.

Okay.

I think we're all set, Miss Evans.

Thank you.

She takes the Hat off her head and hands it back to the professor before sliding off the stool.

The alphabet progresses inevitably toward Granger.

She runs for the hat's seat, full up of nerves and excitement both, and jams the hat on her head.

Hello. Now what do we have here? 

I'm Hermione Granger, she says.  Pleased to meet you, Mr. Sorting Hat.

He chuckles. Thank you, Miss Granger. The pleasure is mine. 

Grin.  Thank you!  So... how does the Sorting work?

Well, I look into your mind - like I'm doing now - and I think about what sort of person you are, how that sort of pertain learns, what sort of person you could become, and I ask what sort of person you'd like to be. I generally try to put people in Houses they'll get along well with. For class size reasons, I also try to sort the Houses evenly, so often I decide how to sort people who are very balanced or unsure between multiple Houses last, depending on where there's openings.

Well... she says pensively.  I think I could see myself fitting in any of the Houses... but I would quite like to go to Gryffindor.  I've read a lot about Albus Dumbledore, and I think I'd like to grow up to be like him.

The Hat chuckles. I could see you in any of the Houses as well, Miss Granger. I can certainly try to get you into Gryffindor.

Thanks.  I do think there's a lot to admire in all of the houses, I'd like to grow up to be curious and hardworking and ambitious too... but that doesn't always come to much if you're not willing to stand up and say, this is wrong, and that takes bravery above all, I think.

Very much so. 

I do believe you'll go quite far, Miss Granger. 

She grins and bounces.  Thanks, Mr. Sorting Hat!

Chuckle. 

Now, unless you have something else to ask right now - and if you simply want to talk later, I'm usually in the Headmaster's office - I think this is enough for the Sorting. 

All right, thank you.  And she returns the Hat and departs.

Next up is - well, another G, but next up among Harriet's friends is Neville.  He is also nervous and excited both, but in different proportions, and approaches the Hat more hesitantly.

Good evening. 

Hello, he says timidly.

Hm. Quite a few notable traits - but I do believe you fit best in Gryffindor, Mister Longbottom.

That... doesn't sound right, to him.  It doesn't quite come out in a sentence, like the Hat's words do, but - he's always so scared and nervous of everyone and everything, and Gryffindors are supposed to be big brave heroes, and - and everyone would be able to tell he's not what a Gryffindor is supposed to be, and what if they make fun of him -

Sometimes the path between who we are and who we want to be can seem very, very long, standing at the beginning. No one is static, Mister Longbottom, and you would be quite surprised at the paths many people have walked.

Who we want to be...

Of course he fantasizes about standing up to bullies and helping the downtrodden, but -

What do you mean?

The image of Godric Gryffindor now is of a hero, valiant, always standing up for what he believes in, always fighting hard and ceaselessly for the right.

It's normal, for people's images to change after their deaths, but even at the end Godric believed he'd never finished his journey toward bravery - which he saw as an ideal no person could truly ever embody, but that they must strive for as best they can, with no shame when they can't.

Godric is, perhaps, the most dramatic example I've ever had the honor of knowing, of someone who walked the path to bravery. He wasn't particularly brave, as a child - certainly not in the stereotypical way, for bravery is the mastery of fear, not the absence. But Godric let his fear rule him, and he frequently gave up if things seemed too scary. This continued even as he became a teenager - and, around the time Hogwarts students now graduate, the war between his fear and his beliefs came to a head. He had an opportunity to save the life of someone else, at risk to himself... And he hesitated long enough the opportunity vanished.

That haunted him, and he began, slowly, hesitantly, walking the path to bravery, one he mapped out, because he wanted no student to be as unprepared as he had been. He wanted to teach bravery, for it is a skill often far more difficult than any magic we work here.

No one reasonable expects you to simply know how to cast spells, or brew potions, or identify creatures without ever being told. No one reasonable expects you to simply know how to be brave. Learning is what schools are for, Mister Longbottom.

I... guess I never thought of it as something that could be taught.  He always thought - and he doesn't quite say this in words, not to himself or to the Hat, but the impression is there - he always thought that if you weren't brave enough to do the right thing when you really needed to, there was already just something wrong with you.

(With him, really.)

It is. What the right thing is, how to do it, how to not do the wrong thing, how to recognize when you need to... These are skills, too, beyond mere bravery.

And you think I should go to Gryffindor, to learn them?

I think you should go where you will grow best, Mister Longbottom. What do you want to learn?

He... does kind of want to learn to be brave, like Godric Gryffindor - it still seems like such a fantasy...

If you really think that I can, he says at last, that I can learn to be a hero, I mean - I think I want to go to Gryffindor.

Alright. The Hat's voice is warm. I think you'll do rather well there, Mister Longbottom.

Grin.  Thanks.

You're quite welcome, Mister Longbottom. Now, do you mind passing me to the next student?

Oh, sure - thanks again -

He returns the Hat to Professor McGonagall.

The interviews proceed, through the Ms and Ps and Ws.

The Hat is silent, for a few moments, after it talks to the last student; and then it turns toward Professor McGonagall and says, out loud, "I am ready."

Professor McGonagall nods smartly, and turns toward the first years.

"All right, children," she says in her carrying voice.  "Next you must line up in alphabetical order outside the door to the Great Hall.  The Hat and I will enter first, and then the doors will open for you.  You'll walk down the middle of the Hall toward the Hat, and one by one we will call you forward to the front of the Hall, where the Hat will announce your House."

Harriet nods, joining in the broad jostling of students until they're in a single line.

They're ready soon enough.

Happily, pretty much everyone ends up going where they want.

!!!

She's the second of her friends Sorted - Ami's the first, of course - and she goes to sit at Gryffindor, waving first at Hermione and then at Neville to come sit by her.

(It's a little bit sad that Ami didn't get into Gryffindor with them...)

Ami claps for all three of his friends when they're Sorted, beaming.

Serpens Malfoy ends up sitting next to him (she'd talked very briefly with the Hat; he'd mentioned she might be a fit for Ravenclaw, but they both agreed she really belonged in Slytherin). 

The murmurs of conversation die down, as a tall, thin, bearded man stands up from the center of the Head Table.  A brass owl decorating the table in front of him flares its wings and rises into the position of a podium.  The attention of the hall becomes fixed on him.

Huh. He looks wizard-y, more than most wizards Harriet's seen.

"Welcome," he calls jovially to the Great Hall, "and/or welcome back, to Hogwarts!  Six sevenths of you know me as Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, and now seven sevenths of you do.  To our new students, I hope you will discover you were sorted well, and to our returning ones, I hope you will do your best to help make it so.  I would like to take a moment now to introduce the rest of our fine staff, but the look on your faces tells me I should probably get you fed first, so, if you please - "

He steps back from the podium, inclines his head and spreads his hands, and a banquet's worth of food appears on each House table.

Wow! She blinks down at the suddenly appearing food, surprised, and gingerly begins serving herself a little bit of everything in reach.

The food is delicious, best-of-the-best of wizarding fare; dessert comes after dinner, naturally, and is just as tasty and even more overtly magical.

Dumbledore gets to his feet once again as the feast ends.  "I do love our feasts," he says conversationally.  "I hope everyone found it at least as delicious as I did.  Now, briefly, before you all head off to bed, I should go over a few things.  First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to students of all ages, per the appellation 'Forbidden Forest.'  It is home to many kinds of dangerous magical creatures, and portions of it are considered the jurisdiction of the native Centaur tribe, who do not take kindly to wizarding interlopers.  Deep diving in the Hogwarts Lake is also prohibited, although you are at liberty to wade.  No magic is to be used between classes in the corridors, and in particular you are not to attempt to cast jinxes on your fellow students.  The Restricted Section of the Hogwarts library is also out of bounds to students without a signed notice from a professor."

She listens intently, noting that she should find out if magic is allowed outside of classes not in the corridors.

"But on what I hope should be a less tiresome note, I also wish to introduce some of our staff.  You will have already met Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, head of Gryffindor House..."

She nods her head and waves a little.

"In Ravenclaw we have Filius Flitwick," a small and oddly crumpled-looking old man, "and in Hufflepuff, Pomona Sprout."  A plump, maternal sort of woman who gives a wide smile as she's introduced.  "And heading up Slytherin House is Professor Severus Snape."

A severe-looking dark haired man, presumably Professor Snape, inclines his head expressionlessly, his eyes briefly skating over the tables.

She notes each one, mentally repeating their names to herself. (Teachers don't like it when you forget their names.) (Also she tries to figure out their personalities a bit, but, well, she doesn't have much to go on yet.)

"You'll have plenty of occasions to get to know the rest of your teachers in the coming weeks," Dumbledore says.  "But for now, it's been a long day and a hearty feast for us as well as for you, and many of us on both sides of the head table are probably about ready for bed; so I'll send you off.  First years, follow your House Prefects to your dormitories."

She stands with the others, sticking close to Hermione and Neville as they file out - staring around in wonder, still, at all the magic of the place.

The Gryffindor prefects lead the new first years through broad fire-lit stone corridors, up wide marble stairs, and eventually to a large portrait of a large woman, halfway down a corridor lined with similarly-sized paintings, who looks down at the new students wryly.

"Password?" she asks.

One of the prefects, who'd introduced himself as Percy Weasley, enunciates clearly: "Caput Draconis."

The portrait swings forth from the wall like a door, revealing a short hidden passageway to the Gryffindor common room.

"Most of the portraits will come to recognize all the new students in the next few weeks," Percy Weasley says as the students clamber through the hole, "but you should be sure to remember the passwords anyway, it adds a bit of security."

She nods. "What happens if you forget one?"

"I'll let you in, dear," the portrait calls in a motherly sort of voice.  (A few of the kids chuckle.)

"Yeah," says another prefect, a girl who never introduced herself, "realistically people don't try to sneak into other dorms by shapeshifting into students and pretending to forget the password very often."

"But best practice is to ask a Prefect or another Gryffindor student," Percy says.

"Okay."

Best practices sound good. Kids are jerks, a lot. She bets if they could sneak places they aren't allowed by shapeshifting they would.

"Quiet hours are ten PM to seven AM," Percy says, "and you're not allowed to leave the common room during that period either, but there's no set bedtime.  Best to get in the habit of getting a good night's sleep, though," he adds pointedly.  And it is getting pretty late.

Niet's pretty used to the basic concept, so she nods and looks around for a clock.

It is Late o'Clock.

Yeah she would like it to be Sleep o'Clock. Bedrooms?

A spiral staircase off the common room leads to the girls' dorms.  (Another one leads to the boys' dorms but that's less relevant to her.)

She yawns and heads up. If beds aren't pre-claimed, she'll wait for everyone else to grab somewhere to sleep, but otherwise she falls straight into her bed.

Her dorm-mates appreciate this.  Zzz.

Harriet sleeps lightly and wakes up extremely early. She knows how to be quiet, though, in the early hours, and she very gently fetches a book from her trunk - after reminding herself she's allowed to do this now - and tip-toes down the stairs to read in the common room until breakfast time.

It's dark and quiet, for a while; but eventually one of the Gryffindor boys descends the stairs yawningly.  "Morning."

"Morning..."

He rubs his eyes and squints curiously at her.  "I saw you on the train, didn't I?  You were looking for a toad."

"For a little bit, yeah."

"I was in the compartment with Ron," he says.  "Ron Weasley, red-haired bloke.  I'm Dean Thomas.  Find your toad okay?"

"Oh. Yeah. Someone brought it to the prefects."

"That's good."  He gives her a bright, genuine smile and plops down in a seat next to the fire.

She eyes him, then pretends to return her her book. (She's too nervous to actually start reading again right away.)

Dean, oblivious, takes out a wizard-chess set and muses over it as the pieces arrange themselves into a puzzle ("white to mate in three," the white king informs him smugly).

Ron and another Gryffindor boy are down soon as well; Ron yawns and looks over Dean's shoulder and moves one of the knights.  Dean "Oi!"s and shoves him away playfully.  All three laugh.

Hermione's down a little while later.

She stops by Harriet's chair and peers at Ron and company.

"Are those the boys from the train?" she says, eyes narrowed.  "The ones who were rude about Trevor?"

...Awkward shrug.

Hermione watches them for a few moments, with narrowed eyes, then marches over.

Ron looks up at her a bit blankly.  "Hello."

"You were rude about Neville's toad," she says firmly.  "I think you should apologize."

...She really hopes they don't get into a fight. That would be terrible. (Even if Ron should apologize.)

" - when?"

"On the train, when we were looking for him.  You said, if I had a toad I'd lose him as quickly as I could."

" - oh."  He goes a bit red.  "I didn't mean anything by it."

"He didn't," Dean offers.  "He was just as mean about his own pet the whole train ride.  Bit of a git, I thought," he adds with a bit of a smirk.

Ron rolls his eyes.

"It was mean," Hermione says.  "You owe him an apology."

"...yeah, all right," Ron accedes, a little sullenly.

Hermione nods, and spins around swishily, and goes to sit down next to Harriet.

"...Morning," she says, voice quiet.

"Good morning!"  Her voice is still a bit prim, but with no ire directed toward her.

Tiny smile.

Big grin!

Tentatively: "How'd you sleep?"

"I was too excited to fall asleep for a while, I can't wait to start learning magic."  She bounces a little.