Colin Creevey stepped forward to the stool. Professor McGonagall helped him place the Sorting Hat upon his head.
The Hat took an unusually long time to make up its mind.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" it finally declared at the top of its voice.
The moment Professor McGonagall lifted the Hat from Colin's head, the boy dashed toward the Hufflepuff table. His new Housemates greeted him with loud applause.
Colin dropped into the seat between Dawson and Richard. Positively glowing with excitement, he exclaimed,
"Richie, we're in the same House! I'm so happy! That silly Hat kept trying to send me somewhere else."
"Really?" Richard asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh yes!" Colin nodded vigorously. "It kept talking about courage and bravery, about the House of the noble-hearted. Ha! I may be a milkman's son, but I'm not stupid! I told it straight: 'You cheeky old piece of felt, you're not fooling me! I know the noble lords study in Hufflepuff, and you're trying to sell me this Gryffindor nonsense!' I'm so happy I managed to convince it to put me in Hufflepuff."
"Congratulations, Colin." Richard rewarded the first-year with a warm smile. "You made an excellent choice."
Of all the first-years waiting to be Sorted, only Ginny Weasley and Luna Lovegood held any interest for Richard. The rest failed to catch his attention. To him, they were nothing more than unfinished people—blank slates who had yet to develop firm principles or clear ambitions. Nor had he found any particularly wealthy or influential children among them, or anyone likely to become a useful acquaintance.
Ginny interested Richard because she was the daughter of the man who managed his magical business. She was Sorted into Gryffindor, joining her brothers.
Luna, on the other hand, had caught Grosvenor's attention because of her knowledge of unusual magical creatures. Besides, from what he had pieced together, Lovegood was the daughter of the editor of a wizarding magazine. Not exactly one of the great movers and shakers, but connections like that could prove useful one day. Luna was Sorted into Ravenclaw.
At last, the Sorting came to an end. An enormous feast appeared upon the tables, and the children, hungry after the long journey, eagerly tucked into the food.
After the late supper had concluded, Headmaster Dumbledore rose from his seat and delivered almost exactly the same speech as the year before. The only real difference was that he made no mention whatsoever of any forbidden parts of the castle. And, in place of the late Professor Quirrell, he introduced Gilderoy Lockhart as the new professor of Defence Against the Dark Arts.
Lockhart radiated an air of relentless cheerfulness. He positively beamed with happiness and seemed to revel in the attention of everyone around him, like a once-famous star of a third-rate series basking in the adoration of fans who had finally remembered he existed.
After the school song, everyone retired to their dormitories. The students had barely enough energy left to crawl into bed.
Richard noticed that Hufflepuff had admitted nearly twice as many students this year as it had the previous one. He had every reason to believe that he himself had played a part in filling the first-year dormitories to capacity. Had Richie not walked through the last carriage of the Hogwarts Express and left such a favorable impression, things might well have turned out differently.
The following morning, the weather was dreary from the moment everyone awoke. The enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was covered with a blanket of dull gray clouds. As usual, the House tables groaned beneath bowls of porridge, plates of smoked herring, toast, fried eggs, and sizzling bacon—a traditional English breakfast.
Richard decided to familiarize himself with the year's reading over breakfast. He opened Magical Me and began reading rapidly. The more he read, the deeper his frown became.
Harry and Ron were seated at the Gryffindor table beside Hermione, who was also reading one of Lockhart's books.
Justin, sitting beside Richard, nudged him with an elbow.
"Richie, you've started reading the Defence Against the Dark Arts textbook? I read all of them over the summer. Lockhart is incredible! If a vampire attacked me in a telephone box, I'd probably die of fright. But he didn't even blink! He fought it and won. It's fantastic! I even lent the books to Mum, and now she understands how wonderful it is to have a wizard in the family—especially an educated one."
Richard looked up from the book and smiled at Finch-Fletchley.
"Justin, this bears no resemblance whatsoever to a textbook. It's an excellent book—I would happily give it ten out of ten—but it's a work of fiction disguised as an autobiography. Where are the explanations of the spells? Where are the illustrations showing the wand movements? Where's the history behind the magic, the proper methods of using it, and the dangers of getting it wrong? It looks very much as though the crafty author who's about to teach us Defence Against the Dark Arts decided to make a tidy profit by selling us his fantasy stories disguised as textbooks. Frankly, he'd have been better off simply asking for our money instead of deceiving everyone like this. Though, as a businessman, I can understand the temptation."
"You think so?" Justin asked, doubt creeping into his voice. "He seemed really powerful to me..."
"Justin, open any genuine textbook and compare it to these books." Richie waved Lockhart's work in front of his friend's nose. "The differences couldn't be more obvious. Anyone who's ever opened a textbook would never mistake it for a novel. We'll be fortunate if Lockhart even knows all the spells he writes about, rather than simply having copied their descriptions out of a library."
Justin shrugged.
"Most wizards believe Lockhart really accomplished everything he describes. And Headmaster Dumbledore surely wouldn't hire someone who was incompetent."
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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