Dinner is fantastic, and the trek up to Ravenclaw Tower more so. Harry has never seen moving paintings, or knights that tipped their helms to her as she walked past. Or Peeves. Although she thinks, after he tries to drop a bundle of walking sticks on all of them, she can do without meeting Peeves.

"Here we are," Robert Hilliard, one of the Prefects, announces, stopping before a very large, bronze eagle knocker. "The riddle for the first day tends to be simple..."

"What walks on four legs in the morning, two legs in the afternoon, and three legs in the evening?" intones the eagle, staring at them all with beady bronzed eyes.

"Man," Robert answers promptly, and the door swings open. "Remember," he adds, as the first years stream in. "Ravenclaw House has no traditional password, only riddles. Logic is needed to enter our House. But also remember-the knocker is kind, and its riddles are geared toward the age of the student, the knowledge of the student, and even the general health of the student. If you are an exhausted first year, have no fears that you will be unable to get in."

"Good," Harry heaves a sigh of relief. She's never been very good at logic puzzles, and more than one thought of being stuck outside the common room like a nit has flashed through her mind.

"Ah, Professor Flitwick," Robert says in surprise. Harry swivels her head round to see a very small, ugly-looking man with a lot of beard making his way into the room.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" the professor asks, scanning the crowd. Hermione gives Harry an encouraging push forward, and Flitwick's eyes land on her with delight. "Ah, Miss Potter, this way, if you please?"

Harry makes her way obediently enough to an isolated corner of the common room. The common room really is brilliant, she decides on the way, looking around as discreetly as she can. Coloured with blues and bronzes, it's massive, and full of little nooks and crannies, some with desks and some with tables, and everywhere, books.

"Minerva informed me of your...situation," Professor Flitwick says quietly. "It is a delight to see you in my House, Miss Potter."

"Thank you," Harry mumbles, staring down at the bronze-flecked carpet, her face burning.

"I would have thought-Gryffindor, like your parents-but no matter," her Head of House dismisses it with a shake of his head. "Now, Miss Potter, I presume you have no desire to stay in the boys' dormitory?"

"Bollocks, no," Harry blurts out, then flushes even redder. "Sorry, sir," she tacks on. Flitwick laughs.

"It's all right, Miss Potter. And I did not think so. For that matter, I'm not sure Hogwarts would even let you in! So in that case..." Professor Flitwick's eyes scan the room.

"Penelope! Miss Clearwater? This way, please?"

A rather tall girl with very curly dark hair pops up, her Prefect badge shining in the flickering light.

"Help Miss Potter and the other first year girls get situated, would you?" the Professor inquires. Penelope flicks a startled look at Harry, before drawing herself up and nodding briskly.

"Of course, Professor," she answers. "Come on, Potter. Harry, was it? Or erm...something else?"

"Harry's fine," Harry says quickly.

As she files past with the other first years, she sees an older girl with a turned-up nose and a rather spiteful expression turn and sneer to her friend, just loud enough for Harry to overhear, "If he's a girl, then I'm a bloody Bubotuber, who does he think he's fooling?"

Tears prickle Harry's eyes, but she refuses to let them fall. Penelope stops dead in her tracks just ahead, nearly making Harry trip.

"Your face does need to be popped," she says sweetly to the girl, who flushes dark red, muttering imprecations under her breath.

"Ignore her," Penelope murmurs in an aside. "Chloe Brinker. Nasty piece of work. Thinks everyone is beneath her."

"Thanks," Harry whispers in gratitude. Hermione gives her an enormous smile and squeezes her hand.

"We get to be dorm mates!" Hermione hisses, eyes sparkling.

"This is the first year girls' dorm," Penelope announces, swinging open the door.

A rather small girl with straggly blonde hair stands up inside, her face wreathed in an airy smile, radishes dangling from her ears.

"Hello," the girl says. "I'm Luna."