"Welcome to Hogwarts School Of Witchcraft And Wizardry. As you may know, there are three houses," Professor McGonagall, a gray-haired woman with a velvety dress the color of emerald. "Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Your house will be determined by a sorting hat. Your sorting will begin. Good luck."
"Um... Professor, what if I am not sorted into a house? Will I have to go back home?" Rose asked indignantly.
"Never has such a mishap happened. I am sure you will be fine."
When the children walked into the Great Hall, they were absolutely amazed. They saw the night sky with floating candlesticks. There were four tables, one of which there was Fred, George's son and their cousin. "Hello! I sure hope you are sorted into Gryffindor. It is absolutely a tragedy if you do not. Gryffindor is sure lovely."
The sorting hat sang a lovely song, different every year, and this time, he sang,
"I might not be the prettiest hat you've ever seen,
I might not be all that lean,
But there is no hat smarter than me.
Although I may resemble a rat,
I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat.
I find all your deepest thoughts,
I will stay here until I rot,
So try me on and I will sort you
To where you should be put.
You might well belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
I you've a ready mind,
Wherethose of wit an learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)