Chapter 7
The night had fallen into a dusky velvet sky, stars twinkling high above as the black lake shimmered beneath the moonlight. The towering silhouette of Hogwarts Castle loomed in the distance, windows glowing like fireflies as the boats gently floated toward it. Thomas Greene sat rigid in the boat, his robes fluttering slightly in the evening breeze. With him were Hermione Granger and Neville Longbottom, the only two first years he'd met so far.
"Do you think the castle's always lit like that?" Hermione asked breathlessly, gazing up with wide eyes.
"I hope so," Neville said, clutching the side of the boat nervously. "It's… huge."
Thomas offered a tight smile. He was trying to focus on the breathtaking sight of Hogwarts rising from the cliffside, but his thoughts were churning. If there really was no Harry Potter in this world, everything he thought he knew might fall apart. What did that mean for Quirrell? For the Philosopher's Stone? For Voldemort?
"No matter what houses we're sorted into," Thomas said, breaking the silence, "we should stick together. Let's promise to stay friends."
Hermione turned, her expression touched. "That's a lovely idea. I'd like that."
Neville nodded hesitantly. "Me too. Even if one of us ends up in... Slytherin."
That name hung in the air for a moment.
"I doubt I will," Thomas said smoothly, trying to keep things light. "But whatever happens, let's not let houses come between us."
The boats glided to a gentle stop against a small dock. Lanterns swung overhead as Professor McGonagall stood waiting for them, sharp and composed. "First years, this way."
They climbed out and followed her up a winding path carved into the rock. The castle grew larger with each step, impossibly massive and ancient, cloaked in shadow and torchlight. As they entered the towering front doors, Thomas couldn't help but marvel. The real Hogwarts. He was truly here.
Inside, the Entrance Hall was grander than any cathedral Thomas had ever seen. Marble floors reflected torchlight. Suits of armor lined the walls. A grand staircase wound up into darkness.
McGonagall led them into a side chamber where the rest of the first years had already gathered. Thomas noticed Ron Weasley, pale and nervous. Draco Malfoy stood arrogantly with Crabbe and Goyle. Other students whispered and fidgeted as they waited.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," McGonagall said crisply. "The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly. Until then, wait quietly."
She turned and left, and the tension exploded in hushed murmurs.
"How do you think they'll sort us?" a girl whispered nearby.
"My brother said it involves wrestling a troll," Ron muttered to someone.
Thomas smirked. Of course the Weasley twins would say that.
Hermione was pacing. "I've read about the school, but there's no mention of the actual Sorting method. It's probably a test. Maybe spellwork? Or potion brewing?"
Thomas kept his face neutral. He knew it would be the Sorting Hat—but if no one else knew, it meant families kept it a secret. A tradition perhaps, meant to preserve the surprise.
After a few minutes, McGonagall returned. "Follow me."
They filed behind her through double doors into the Great Hall.
Gasps filled the air. Thousands of floating candles hovered above the four long House tables, illuminating the enchanted ceiling that mirrored the starry night sky. Golden plates and goblets shimmered under the light. Professors sat at a raised staff table at the far end of the hall.
Thomas's eyes flicked to the center. There he was—Dumbledore. Long silver beard, half-moon spectacles, deep purple robes embroidered with stars. He exuded a quiet authority and whimsy all at once.
And to his right sat Professor Quirrell, his turban unmistakable.
So at least that part is the same, Thomas thought. The Stone… Voldemort… it could all still happen.
He also spotted Snape, who looked as dour and forbidding as he remembered. Better avoid eye contact with him—and with Quirrell. Legilimency was real.
In front of the staff table was a stool. And on the stool… a frayed, old, patched hat.
It opened a rip near the brim—and began to sing:
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see, I'll eat myself if you can find A smarter hat than me…"
The Sorting Hat sang a whimsical, rambling tune about the four founders, their values, and how it could see into each student's mind to place them where they belonged. Some students looked like they were going to be sick.
Hermione's eyes sparkled. "It's sentient! That's… astonishing."
Thomas simply nodded. He'd been waiting for this moment for years.
McGonagall unrolled a long scroll.
"Abbott, Hannah."
The pink-faced girl nervously approached. The hat barely touched her head.
"Hufflepuff!"
Applause from the Hufflepuff table.
"Bones, Susan."
Another Hufflepuff.
"Bulstrode, Millicent."
"Slytherin."
"Granger, Hermione."
Hermione stepped up with trembling hands. The hat was placed over her bushy hair.
"Ah, a mind like a steel trap," it murmured. "Plenty of courage too… but where to put you?"
It paused.
"Better be… Gryffindor!"
Hermione let out a breath and hurried to join the table cheering loudest.
"Malfoy, Draco."
Draco strutted confidently. The hat didn't even touch his scalp before it bellowed:
"Slytherin!"
The Slytherin table erupted in cheers.
Crabbe and Goyle followed shortly after—Slytherin.
"Patil, Parvati."
"Gryffindor!"
More names passed in a blur. Then…
"Greene, Thomas."
Thomas took a breath and approached. The hall buzzed with anticipation. As the Sorting Hat dropped over his eyes, the world went dark.
"Hmm," the Hat said inside his mind. "You're an unusual one. You know far more than you should… how curious."
Thomas remained silent.
"Not Ravenclaw, eh?" it continued. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Ravenclaw will help you on the way to master knowledge, no doubt about that – no? Well, if you're sure – better be… GRYFFINDOR!"
Cheers broke out. Thomas removed the hat and hurried to the Gryffindor table, slipping in beside Hermione and Parvati.
His heart was pounding. At least now he could keep an eye on things. Especially Neville.
McGonagall called out, "Longbottom, Neville."
A hush fell over the Great Hall. Whispers rippled—"That's him…" "The Boy Who Lived…"
Neville hesitantly climbed the steps. The hat dropped over his eyes. It took a long time.
Then—
"SLYTHERIN!"
The word echoed like thunder.
Gasps broke out. The Slytherin table clapped half-heartedly. Neville looked stunned, then downcast as he shuffled over, alone. A few students actually moved away to avoid sitting beside him.
Thomas stared in disbelief. How? How could this be?
Even Dumbledore's face flickered with surprise before returning to its usual calm.
The rest of the students were sorted quickly. Then Dumbledore stood.
"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" he said warmly. "Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
Thank you!"
Laughter and cheers broke out.
"Now, a few start-of-term notices. First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is just that—forbidden. Any student caught entering it will be severely punished.
Also, 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."
Thomas blinked. That was just like in the books. The Stone must still be hidden there… but if Neville isn't Harry, would he be the one to stop Quirrell?
Food appeared suddenly on the tables—roast chicken, sausages, mashed potatoes, Yorkshire pudding. Thomas barely tasted anything. His mind was racing.
As the meal wound down, Dumbledore clapped once.
"Now, before bed, let us sing the school song!"
The Sorting Hat unfurled the lyrics into the air. Students sang to various tunes; the Weasley twins chose a funeral march, drawing laughs.
By the end, Thomas was drained. He glanced toward the Slytherin table. Neville sat alone at the edge, ignored by everyone, staring into his goblet.
This year was going to be nothing like he expected.