CHAPTER SEVEN
Prefect got up and shook his hand vigorously, while the Weasley
twins yelled, “We got Potter! We got Potter!” Harry sat down op-
posite the ghost in the ruff he’d seen earlier. The ghost patted his
arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he’d just plunged it
into a bucket of ice-cold water.
He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest
him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and gave him the thumbs up.
Harry grinned back. And there, in the center of the High Table, in
a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at
once from the card he’d gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the
train. Dumbledore’s silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall
that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quir-
rell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was
looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.
And now there were only four people left to be sorted. “Thomas,
Dean,” a Black boy even taller than Ron, joined Harry at the
Gryffindor table. “Turpin, Lisa,” became a Ravenclaw and then it
was Ron’s turn. He was pale green by now. Harry crossed his fin-
gers under the table and a second later the hat had shouted,
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Harry clapped loudly with the rest as Ron collapsed into the
chair next to him.
“Well done, Ron, excellent,” said Percy Weasley pompously
across Harry as “Zabini, Blaise,” was made a Slytherin. Professor
McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away.
Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just
realized how hungry he was. The pumpkin pasties seemed ages
ago.
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