Spark [J.K._Rowling]_Harry_Potter_and_the_Philosopher's_ | Page 127

THE SORTING HAT “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? But he didn’t know any magic yet — what on earth would he have to do? He hadn’t expected something like this the moment they arrived. He looked around anxiously and saw that everyone else looked terrified, too. No one was talking much except Hermione Granger, who was whispering very fast about all the spells she’d learned and wondering which one she’d need. Harry tried hard not to listen to her. He’d never been more nervous, never, not even when he’d had to take a school report home to the Dursleys saying that he’d somehow turned his teachers wig blue. He kept his eyes fixed on the door. Any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead him to his doom. Then something happened that made him jump about a foot in the air — several people behind him screamed. “What the — ?” He gasped. So did the people around him. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance —” “My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he de- serves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost — I say, what are you all doing here?” A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. ‘ 115 ‘