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Disclaimer: Nice men, white suits, yadda, yadda, yadda. You get the idea by now. I hope.

Chapter 5: The Sorting

The first thing they heard upon reaching the platform was a loud, booming voice, shouting, "Firs' years, over here." As they followed the voice to its source, they found the largest man they'd ever laid eyes on. When they were all gathered around him, the large man led them to the shore of a massive lake, where a fleet of boats was waiting.

"No more'n four to a boat," shouted the large man as a small round-faced boy tried to join Harry, Hermione, Matt, and Luna in the boat. When everyone was seated, the boats started forward.

Before too long, a massive castle came into view. "Tha', is Hogwarts. Ain't it a wonderful sigh'?" the large man asked. Before Harry could take it all in, he looked over at Hermione and noticed she was looking a little 'green behind the gills.' The next minute she was leaning over the side of the boat, and Harry just barely gathered her hair out of her face before retching and splashing sounds could be heard, distracting several nearby classmates, and causing the rest to focus on the castle, though they were no longer noticing any details.

When she finally sat upright thanking Harry for helping her, it was time to duck again, as they reached an underground harbor. They got out of the boats and the large man led them up long stone staircase, until they reached an enormous set of oak doors. The large man knocked on the doors three times, and the doors opened on the third knock, revealing a stern looking witch, her hair pulled back into a bun so tight, Harry was sure it served the same purpose as a facelift.

"Evenin' Professor McGonagall. Got another batch o' firs' years for yeh," the large man said to her.

"Thank you, that will be all for now, Hagrid,” Professor McGonogall said, dismissing him. She turned to look at the assembled first years as they entered. "In a few minutes the sorting will begin, and you will be sorted into one of four houses. The houses are Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, and Slytherin,” this last she said with an almost imperceptible hint of a disgusted tone. "While in Hogwarts your house will be like your family. You will eat, sleep, and attend classes with your housemates. Successes will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose your house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup. I'm sure you will be a credit to whatever house you're in."

A short time later the doors to the Great Hall opened and the first years filed in. They stopped at the front where there was a dirty, frayed, and patched wizard's hat sitting on a three legged stool. All the teachers and older students seemed to be looking at it expectantly. Suddenly a rip near the brim opened and it began to sing. The song consisted of the story behind the hat and descriptions of all the houses. "When it was done, there was a round of applause and then the sorting began.

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"Granger, Hermione."

Hermione nervously walked up to the stool and put on the hat. Despite her bushy hair, it still managed to fall over her eyes. She almost shrieked when she heard a voice that didn't belong to her saying in her head, "What do we have here? The most brilliant mind since Dumbledore himself, possibly even exceeding him. Extremely loyal, but only to a select few. And courage, lots of courage. Not particularly ambitious. So it comes down to Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. You'd do equally well in either, so perhaps I should put you in...GRYFFINDOR!" The last word was shouted.

She made her way to the applauding house table and watched the rest of the sorting.

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"Lovegood, Luna."

Luna calmly made her way to the stool and put on the hat, which hit her shoulders. She was nonplussed by the new voice in her mind. "Interesting. Quite intelligent, some degree of loyalty, not very cunning, plenty of courage. So it comes down to Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. Which one, which one?"

"I would prefer that I were put somewhere where the people are nice." she said to this new voice in her head.

"In that case I guess I'll put you in...GRYFFINDOR!" Luna made her way serenely to the Gryffindor table and sat next to Hermione. When she got there she realized the new voice was gone. She mentally shrugged and turned her head back to the ceremony in time to see Malfoy, still favoring his right arm, carefully sit at the Slytherin table with the assistance of his two goons.

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"Potter, Harry."

The hall erupted in whispers, but he ignored them.

Harry sat on the stool and donned the hat. He flinched when he heard a voice say in his head, "Ah, a challenge. One of the smartest in this batch. Very cunning, and very brave. But where to put you?"

Hearing this, Harry thought furiously, NOT SLYTHERIN, to which the voice responded, "Are you sure. You have the potential for greatness, and Slytherin could help you achieve it." Harry continued with his internal mantra. "Okay, I get the point, that just leaves either Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Since you are a Potter, I guess that means...GRYFFINDOR!" Harry breathed a sigh of relief and walked over to join His two friends already there.

He noticed Malfoy lean over to one of his cronies and mutter something that looked like 'I told you so'

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"Robertson, Matt."

Keeping his gaze down, Matt made his way to the stool. He put on the hat, which rested on the bridge of his nose. He barely flinched when he heard the voice in his head. "Interesting, I haven't seen one of your kind in a long time. There's no way I'd be able to put you in Slytherin, you'd go insane within the week. You have an excellent mind, almost on par with your cousin. Hufflepuff would be a good fit for a hard worker such as you, but your trust issues would be a hindrance. You would also fit well in Gryffindor, which is good, because I feel that is the only good choice. So...GRYFFINDOR!"

He took off the hat and made his way to the Gryffindor table, still keeping his gaze down to avoid eye contact.

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When at last Weasley, Ronald, and Zabini, Blaise were sorted into Gryffindor and Slytherin, respectively, Dumbledore stood up. "I'm sure you're all hungry, but I have a few words to say before we eat. And here they are. Nitwit! Oddment! Blubber! Tweak! And finally, tuck in!

As the Headmaster finished, food appeared in front of everyone. Every food one could ask for was present. Including, a pair of familiar foods that Hermione had previously said she'd never seen in Britain. As he piled some of each onto his plate, the tall redheaded boy, Ron Weasley asked, "What is that?"

Harry, swallowing his first bite of fish, responded, "The longer, narrower filets are fried catfish, and the shorter, wider ones are some sort of sunfish, my guess would be either bluegill, longer sunfish, redear sunfish, or crappie, I can't tell the difference after they've been filleted. Try some. It's really good. Matt and Hermione can vouch for that fact." At this the two indicated individuals both nodded, as they had their mouths full of the American fish.

Soon the conversation turned to parentage. "Me dad's a muggle, me mam's a witch. Nearly gave him a heart attack when she told him. What about you?" It turned out that Ron was a pureblood, along with Neville Longbottom, the round-faced boy that tried to follow Harry and his friends into their boat. Everyone already knew that Harry was a halfblood, so they skipped him.

"What about you?" asked a tall black boy, Dean Thomas--a muggleborn--asked Matt.

"Both my parents are muggles. My mom is a school teacher, and my dad is a doctor, although he used to play football," responded Matt still not meeting anyone’s eyes.

"What position did he play?" asked Dean, intrigued.

"He was one of the most feared Middle Linebackers of the '70s, particularly among teams not named the Steelers," replied Matt.

Dean looked puzzled for a moment before it dawned on him. "American Football, should have known. You Yanks just have no grasp on what makes for a good sport,” he quipped in a condescending tone. He turned to look at Hermione. "What about you?"

"Like my cousin Gimli," Matt shot her a menacing glare, "I am also muggleborn, although I'm English, unlike Gimli or his knucklehead best friend,” It was Harry's turn to shoot her the menacing glare.

Harry thought, 3...2...1... "Who's Gimli?" Luna, Ron, Seamus, Neville, and Dean asked as one.

Harry had to bite down on his tongue to keep himself from laughing. Hermione, on the other hand immediately set to explaining. "Have any of you ever heard of J.R.R. Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings books?" she asked.

She was met with five bewildered stares. "This could complicate matters," she muttered.

"Tolkien's books mainly focused on four races of people: humans, elves, dwarves, and hobbits. The dwarves were shorter than humans, but very stout and muscular. The one that was featured prominently in The Lord of the Rings books was named Gimli."

Harry decided to take over at this point. "She decided that Matt fit Tolkien's description of a dwarf fairly well, so about three years ago she started calling him Gimli." He paused, wondering if perhaps he should let them figure the next part out themselves. Remembering his friend’s wicked uppercut, he decided to save them the pain. "I feel I should warn you that no one else has ever gotten away with calling him that. If my mom hadn't known how to heal broken bones I would have been eating through a straw for several weeks after the last, and only, time I called him that." He noticed Hermione shivering and figured she must be remembering the sound his jaw made when it cracked.

They ate in silence for a while. When dessert appeared Seamus broke the silence. "Did you hear about the fight in the train today? Draco Malfoy said he was ambushed by a compartment full of seventh years. Told everyone who would listen that him, Crabbe, and Goyle hexed them so thoroughly they ran in all directions trying to escape. Says he nearly dislocated his shoulder when one of them knocked him over trying to escape." At this everyone in earshot chuckled, except for Matt, who, Harry noticed, was simply smirking.

"So, do we tell them?" Harry whispered in his ear.

"Suppose we should,” was Matt muttered response. He spoke up, "That's not what happened. He came into our compartment looking to see if he could find Harry Potter, I assume to kiss his ass and befriend him. Unfortunately for him, they had already had a less than friendly confrontation in Diagon Ally on Harry's birthday. He didn't actually notice Harry, who was reading a copy of "Metal Hammer," until Luna pointed him out. He proceeded to call me and Hermione mudbloods-” at this point he was interrupted by several exclamations of surprise and disgust, most of them from people that weren't part of the conversation. "As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted, the little faggot called me and Hermione mudbloods, and called Luna a--and I quote--a 'nutter of a blood traitor.' I have no idea what the words meant, except for nutter, Though I could tell they weren't nice. As he turned to leave I grabbed him by the wrist, and told him that I was tempted to crush his wrist, but figured that if it was probably better to deal an injury that wouldn't take so long to heal. So I twisted his arm until his shoulder popped out of his socket. I then gave him a choice. Either he could apologize and I would then set his shoulder back in place, or he could refuse, and take his chances on finding someone else on the train that could do it. He apologized, and I set his shoulder.

"Why did you have to go and fix his shoulder?" cried Ron, apparently upset that Draco had been spared more pain.

"Perhaps I should mention that it can sometimes hurt more going in than coming out. I wanted to make sure he avoided me, and I the best way to do that, in my opinion, was to make sure he realized just how much pain I could make him feel,” He paused. "I got the idea of a first strike victory from Ender's Game. It's a good book, I can lend it to you sometime,” he shuddered. "I just hope I never have to look into his eyes ever again," this last sentence was mumbled

"What does that last bit, look into his eyes, mean?" asked Neville.

Harry watched as Matt looked up for the first time since the aftermath of the fight. He noticed Neville staring, transfixed at Matt's eyes. They both shuddered, though Harry suspected different reasons. When his friend broke eye contact, Harry noticed tears at the corner of Matt's eyes.

Neville, startled, asked, "How'd you do that? It felt as if you were looking at my soul."

"I was," came the response from the soul reader, who was once again looking at his plate. When the others realized that he wasn't going to say anything else they looked at Harry.

"First off I want you to promise to never say anything to anyone who doesn't already know, which, as far as I know is just the four of us,” he said indicating himself, Matt, Hermione, and Luna, "and Professor Dumbledore." He waited for the others to make the necessary promises, Neville and Ron even offering to take a magical oath, which Matt declined.

"Matt here has a rare ability, one that shows up only in muggleborns for some reason, though there is one account of a halfblood who had the ability. He is a soul reader. He can look into your eyes and see your soul. He can see emotional scars, and he can see the blackness that mars everyone’s soul. He instantly knows if he can trust someone or not. Even without looking people in the eyes he as the ability to read people very well, but that probably comes from years of playing youth football without looking the opposing players in the eye. That's American Football to you, Dean."

"Wish I could do that," muttered Dean.

Matt let out a bitter chuckle. "No, you probably don't. The way Professor Dumbledore explained it to us, most people born with this ability retreat within themselves, rarely interacting with anyone, and in more extreme cases can succumb to catatonia. I'm one of the lucky ones. It helps to have two friends that I trust in complete confidence,” he paused, giving Harry and Hermione a 'shit-eating grin,' before continuing. "If only they were here with me." Harry rolled his eyes and was sure Hermione was doing much worse. Sure enough...

"OW! Whadja hafta do that for?!" exclaimed Matt. Hermione had a satisfied smirk on her face.

Soon all the food disappeared and the Headmaster was standing, giving what must have been the usual start of term notices, except for a warning about the third floor corridor promising a painful death. That was the only thing that seemed out of place. Even the announcement of a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher seemed commonplace.

They were led to their dormitories by a red-haired prefect, who had a rather pompous attitude. Harry took an instant dislike to this boy. Soon they were all settled in and Harry was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow.

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A/N: Yet another chapter down. Questions? Comments? Plotholes? Put them in a review. I try to respond to any review that poses a question or has a suggestion.

And if you still think it's any good, please tell me. My ego needs stroking, and it just isn't the same when you do it yourself.

Yes, I know that last part sounded dirty. Get your head out of the gutter, ya pervert.