The path from the station wound down through darkness that felt thick enough to touch, the only light coming from Hagrid's lantern swinging ahead of them and the occasional glow from wands as older students illuminated their way toward the carriages. The first-years followed Hagrid in a nervous cluster, their excited chatter from the train now replaced by awed silence as the reality of their situation settled over them like the evening mist.
"Mind yer step now," Hagrid called back, his massive form barely visible except as a darker shadow against the night. "Path gets a bit steep here—don't want anyone takin' a tumble before they even get ter the castle."
Peter found himself walking between MJ and Gwen, with Felicia just ahead and Ned somewhere behind with Fred, George, and Lee. The darkness was disorienting after the warmth and light of the train, and he had to resist the urge to pull out his phone for illumination—something told him that would mark him as distinctly non-magical in ways he didn't want to advertise on his first night.
"Can you see anything?" MJ whispered, her voice carrying that particular tension that came from trying to navigate unfamiliar terrain in near-total darkness.
"Shapes," Gwen replied quietly. "And I think I can hear water ahead. Lake, probably."
She was right. As they rounded a bend in the path, the darkness opened up into something vast and black—the lake, stretching away into the distance like a pool of liquid night. And there, pulled up along a small dock that creaked under Hagrid's weight, was a fleet of small boats that looked like they'd been conjured from a Victorian painting.
"Four to a boat!" Hagrid called, his voice booming across the water with cheerful authority. "No more'n four! Watch yer step getting in—they're a bit wobbly till everyone's settled!"
The first-years began sorting themselves into groups with the kind of organized chaos that came from a hundred nervous children trying to follow instructions while also not getting separated from their friends. Peter immediately looked around for his group.
"MJ, Gwen, Felicia—with me?" he suggested, gesturing toward one of the boats that was bobbing gently against the dock.
"Absolutely," Felicia said, already moving toward the boat with that casual grace that somehow made even climbing into a potentially unstable magical watercraft look elegant.
"Safety in established friendship groups," Gwen agreed, though her systematic mind was clearly calculating the weight distribution and balance requirements for four people in a small boat.
MJ was already sketching—even in the darkness, her pencil was moving across the page as she tried to capture the silhouettes of boats and students against the vast darkness of the lake. "This is either going to be beautiful or we're all going to end up in the water. Possibly both."
Peter climbed into the boat first, immediately grabbing the sides as it rocked alarmingly under his weight. "Okay, this is definitely less stable than it looks. Everyone move carefully and try to distribute your weight—"
"Parker," MJ interrupted, stepping into the boat with considerably more grace than his nervous scrambling, "we're not going to calculate the physics of magical boat balance. We're just going to sit down and trust that Hogwarts has been doing this for a thousand years without major drowning incidents."
"That we know of," Peter muttered, but he did stop trying to optimize their seating arrangement.
Gwen settled into the boat with characteristic efficiency, immediately identifying the most stable position and claiming it with practical authority. "According to the reading I did about Hogwarts traditions, the boat ride is specifically designed to give first-years their first view of the castle from the lake, which was how the Founders originally arrived."
"Historical reenactment through transportation methods," Felicia observed, taking the remaining seat with casual confidence. "Very dramatic. I approve."
In the boat next to them, Peter could see Fred, George, Ned, and Lee settling in with considerably more chaos than their group had managed. Felix was perched on Ned's shoulder, cycling through nervous shades of purple and orange as the boat rocked under their combined weight.
"Everyone in?" Hagrid called, his lantern illuminating just enough of the dock to show that all the boats were now occupied. "Right then—FORWARD!"
The boats began moving with a gentle lurch that made several first-years grab the sides in alarm. There was no visible mechanism propelling them—no oars, no motor, no obvious magical device—but they glided smoothly away from the dock and out onto the dark water with the kind of serene confidence that suggested they knew exactly where they were going.
"Self-navigating boats," Peter said with quiet wonder, his scientific curiosity temporarily overriding his nervousness about being on the water in darkness. "The enchantments must be incredibly sophisticated to maintain course stability, avoid collisions, and adjust for weight distribution automatically."
"Or magic just works differently than you're expecting," MJ said, but her tone was fond rather than critical. "Not everything needs a technical explanation, Parker."
"Everything has a technical explanation," Peter replied automatically. "Even magic follows rules—we just don't understand all of them yet."
The fleet of boats moved in formation across the black water, Hagrid's lantern leading the way like a beacon. Behind them, the lights of Hogsmeade Station were already fading into the mist. Ahead, there was only darkness and the gentle splash of water against wood and the quiet murmur of nervous first-years wondering what came next.
"How long does the boat ride usually take?" Gwen asked, though her voice suggested she was asking more to fill the silence than because she actually needed to know.
"Fifteen to twenty minutes," came Lee's voice from the neighboring boat, carrying clearly across the water. "Long enough for the anticipation to build properly. Hogwarts knows how to make an entrance."
They fell into silence again, the boats moving steadily through darkness that seemed to grow thicker the farther they traveled from shore. The air was cold—properly Scottish highland cold, the kind that sank into your bones and made you grateful for the heavy robes they'd changed into on the train. Peter could see his breath misting in the air, and beside him, MJ had tucked her sketchbook away in favor of pulling her robes more tightly around herself.
"You know what's weird?" Ned's voice drifted across from the other boat, thoughtful in the darkness. "We spent all summer preparing for this—learning theory, practicing spells, getting excited about magic school. But now that we're actually here, actually doing it, it feels completely different than I expected."
"Different how?" Gwen asked, leaning slightly toward the other boat while being careful not to shift her weight enough to unbalance their vessel.
"More real," Ned replied simply. "Like, before it was this abstract concept—magic school, learning spells, becoming wizards. But now we're actually on the lake, in the darkness, heading toward this ancient castle where we're going to live for the next seven years. It's not theoretical anymore. It's just... real."
"Very real," Peter agreed quietly. "And slightly terrifying."
"But also exciting," Felicia added, her voice carrying that confidence that suggested she found the reality of their situation just as appealing as the theory had been. "This is the adventure actually beginning. Everything before this was just preparation."
"Speaking of which," Fred's voice called out with theatrical timing, "you might want to look up now. Best view's coming."
They all looked up as one, following Fred's instruction—
And there it was.
Hogwarts.
They'd seen it before, during their tour with Dumbledore. They'd studied photographs, read descriptions, heard stories from Aurora and Professor McGonagall about the castle's magnificence. But nothing—absolutely nothing—had prepared them for seeing it like this.
The castle rose from the darkness like something from the most ambitious dream any architect had ever conceived, impossibly huge and impossibly beautiful against the night sky. It seemed to grow directly from the cliff face, towers and turrets climbing toward the stars with the kind of mathematical precision that shouldn't have been possible without modern engineering but somehow existed anyway. Windows glowed with warm golden light that reflected on the lake's dark surface, doubling the castle's size and making it look like it existed in two worlds simultaneously.
The main structure was vast enough to house several ordinary buildings, with wings extending in directions that seemed to defy spatial logic. Bridges spanned gaps that looked too wide for stone alone, connecting towers that spiraled upward with elegant defiance of gravity. The highest point—what Peter thought might be the Astronomy Tower based on their earlier tour—was wreathed in stars that seemed to have gathered there specifically to admire the architecture.
"Oh," MJ breathed, and Peter could hear the artist in her responding to something that transcended ordinary beauty. "Oh, that's..."
She trailed off, apparently unable to find words sufficient to capture what they were seeing.
"It's perfect," Gwen finished quietly, her systematic brain momentarily overwhelmed by something that couldn't be reduced to logical categories or organizational frameworks. "It's absolutely perfect."
Felicia didn't say anything at all, which might have been the most telling response of any of them. For once, her usual confident commentary was completely inadequate to the moment.
"It's bigger than I remember," Peter said finally, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking too loudly might somehow break the spell of what they were witnessing. "I mean, we saw it during our tour, but this... the scale of it from the water, the way it's lit up against the darkness... it's like seeing it for the first time all over again."
"Everything's bigger at night," Lee said from the other boat, his voice carrying that same hushed reverence. "The darkness makes it look like it goes on forever. Like it's not just a building, but a whole world unto itself."
The boats continued their steady progress across the lake, the castle growing larger and more detailed with each passing moment. Peter could now make out individual windows, see the way light spilled from doorways and archways, catch glimpses of what might have been students or ghosts moving through the corridors visible from the water.
"The founding story says that the four Founders—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin—chose this location specifically because the magical properties of the lake enhanced defensive enchantments," Gwen said softly, apparently finding comfort in historical facts when confronted with overwhelming beauty. "The water acts as both barrier and amplifier for protective spells."
"Plus it makes for one hell of an entrance," Fred added with characteristic irreverence, though even his voice carried unusual respect. "Can't tell me they didn't consider the dramatic presentation when they decided every first-year should arrive by boat at night."
"The Founders were many things," George agreed, "but they definitely understood the value of memorable experiences."
As they drew closer to the castle, the details became even more impressive. Peter could see the way ivy climbed ancient stone walls, the ornate carvings around doorways that must have taken decades to complete, the sheer architectural ambition required to create something this massive without modern construction technology. The engineering alone was staggering—weight distribution, structural support, the way all those towers managed to stay upright despite appearing to violate several fundamental laws of physics.
"Parker," MJ said quietly, "I can see you analyzing the architecture. Your face has that look."
"I'm not analyzing," Peter protested, then reconsidered. "Okay, I'm totally analyzing. But how can I not? This building shouldn't be structurally possible without magical reinforcement, which means they've figured out how to integrate architectural design with permanent enchantment work at a scale that's just... it's incredible. It's practical magic on a civilizational scale."
"It's home for the next seven years," Ned said simply, Felix cycling through awed golden colors on his shoulder. "That's what matters."
The boats were approaching what appeared to be a stone harbor carved directly into the cliff face beneath the castle, with lanterns hanging from iron brackets that looked like they'd been there for centuries. Steep stone steps led upward from the harbor, disappearing into an arched doorway that glowed with welcoming light.
"Mind yer heads!" Hagrid called back, his voice echoing off the stone as they entered the harbor. "Duck down now—opening's a bit low!"
They all ducked as instructed, though the ceiling of the harbor entrance was actually quite high—Hagrid just had different standards for "low" than normal-sized people did. The boats glided through the darkness with practiced precision, bumping gently against a stone landing where they bobbed to a gentle stop.
"Everyone out!" Hagrid announced, his massive form already climbing onto the landing with surprising grace for someone his size. "Come on now, don't be shy—we're nearly there!"
Peter stood carefully, testing the boat's stability before committing to actually climbing out. The landing was slippery with spray from the lake, and several first-years had already discovered this the hard way, grabbing each other for balance as they scrambled onto solid ground with varying degrees of success.
"Easy," he said, offering his hand to MJ as she prepared to climb out. "It's wet—watch your step."
"Such a gentleman," MJ said with gentle mockery, but she did take his hand, using the stability to make the transition from boat to landing without incident.
Gwen was already on the landing, having executed the transfer with typical precision and efficiency. Felicia followed with casual grace that made the whole thing look effortless, as though boarding and disembarking from magical boats was something she did daily.
Around them, the other boats were emptying with similar combinations of grace and near-disaster. Fred and George made the transition with the synchronized efficiency of people who'd done this before, while Lee helped a nervous first-year who looked like she was seriously reconsidering the whole magic school idea. Ned managed to get onto the landing while keeping Felix stable on his shoulder, which was impressive given how much the Pygmy Puff was vibrating with excitement and cycling through rainbow colors.
"Everyone here?" Hagrid called, doing a quick headcount with the practiced eye of someone who'd done this for years and knew exactly what a complete group of first-years looked like. "No one fell in the lake? Good, good—right then, up the stairs we go! Stay together now, and watch yer step—castle's waitin' fer ye!"
The stairs were steep and seemed to go on forever, climbing up through the cliff face with the kind of medieval determination that suggested whoever built them hadn't believed in the concept of taking it easy on visitors. Peter found himself breathing hard after the first few flights, his hand gripping the stone railing for support as they continued upward into increasingly bright light.
"How many stairs is this?" Ned gasped from somewhere behind him.
"Approximately two hundred, according to the historical accounts," Gwen replied, apparently not even breathing hard despite the climb. "Though the exact number varies depending on which source you consult."
"Two hundred stairs," Peter repeated between breaths. "Great. This is definitely good training for... whatever physical education requirements Hogwarts has."
"Flying lessons," Lee called back helpfully. "Those start next week. Hope you're not afraid of heights."
"I'm not afraid of heights," Peter said automatically, then reconsidered. "Well, I'm not afraid of heights when there are proper safety railings and I'm not expected to sit on a broomstick that might suddenly decide to throw me off at terminal velocity."
"That only happens if you're doing it wrong," Fred assured him with questionable helpfulness.
"Or right," George added with a grin that Peter couldn't see but could definitely hear in his voice. "Depending on your definition of right."
They finally reached the top of the stairs, emerging into what appeared to be an entrance chamber that was both vast and oddly intimate. Stone walls rose high overhead, torches flickered in brackets that must have been installed centuries ago, and ahead of them stood enormous oak doors that looked like they could withstand a siege.
Hagrid stepped forward and rapped on the door with his massive fist—three solid knocks that echoed through the chamber like thunder.
The doors swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall, her emerald robes immaculate despite the late hour, her expression carrying that particular combination of stern authority and genuine welcome that seemed to be her signature.
"The firs'-years, Professor," Hagrid announced with obvious pride, as though he'd personally escorted them across an ocean rather than just a lake.
"Thank you, Hagrid," McGonagall said with warm efficiency. "I'll take them from here."
She stepped forward, her sharp eyes sweeping over the assembled first-years with the kind of comprehensive assessment that missed nothing. Peter found himself standing up a little straighter under that gaze, suddenly very aware of his appearance and hoping his robes were properly adjusted according to her exacting standards.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said, her Scottish accent lending weight to words that felt somehow ceremonial despite their simplicity. "Before you join the rest of the school for the Sorting Ceremony, there are a few things you need to understand about how this institution operates."
She paused, letting the silence stretch just long enough to ensure she had their complete attention.
"The Sorting Ceremony will determine which House you'll be joining for your time at Hogwarts. The four Houses are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each House has its own proud history and has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you're here, your House will be something like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points; any rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup—a great honor that I expect you all to take seriously."
Her gaze swept over them again, and Peter had the distinct impression she was already calculating which of them might be future troublemakers requiring careful management.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place shortly, in front of the entire school. I suggest you all take a moment to smarten yourselves up—tuck in your shirts, straighten your robes, and generally make yourselves presentable. First impressions matter."
She turned to go, then paused and looked back with the ghost of a smile.
"One more thing. The castle is full of secrets, many of them dangerous. Think before you explore, consult before you experiment, and remember that the rules exist for very good reasons. Those who follow them usually find their time at Hogwarts to be both rewarding and survivable. Those who don't..." She let the implication hang in the air. "Well. We'll cross that bridge if we come to it."
With that ominous but somehow reassuring warning, she swept through the entrance hall toward another set of doors, leaving the first-years to contemplate their immediate future with varying degrees of excitement and terror.
"Right," Fred said into the resulting silence, his voice carrying that particularly British combination of nervousness and determination. "Who's ready to sit on a stool and have a thousand-year-old hat judge their entire personality in front of the whole school?"
"When you put it like that," Peter said faintly, "it sounds absolutely terrifying."
"That's because it is absolutely terrifying," George confirmed cheerfully. "But you'll do great. Probably."
"Probably?" several first-years repeated in unison.
"Well," Fred said with theatrical consideration, "the Hat's usually right about these things. Usually."
"You two are not helping," Gwen informed them with systematic precision.
"We're not trying to help," George replied with a grin. "We're trying to maintain the proud tradition of thoroughly terrifying first-years before the Sorting. It's basically required."
"Family obligation," Fred agreed solemnly.
From the other side of the doors, they could hear the murmur of hundreds of voices—the sound of the entire school already assembled in the Great Hall, waiting for the ceremony to begin. Peter's stomach did a complicated flip that had nothing to do with the boat ride and everything to do with the fact that in just a few minutes, he was going to be sitting on that stool, having his entire future decided by a magical hat while several hundred people watched.
"You okay?" MJ asked quietly, apparently noticing his sudden increase in nervous energy.
"Terrified," Peter admitted honestly. "Also excited. Mostly terrified, though."
"Same," MJ said simply. "But we've got this. Whatever happens, we've got this."
The doors to the Great Hall began to open, golden light spilling out into the entrance chamber, and Professor McGonagall's voice called clearly:
"First-years, please follow me."
This was it.
No more preparation, no more speculation, no more wondering.
The Sorting was about to begin.
And Peter Parker, along with his friends and a hundred other nervous eleven-year-olds, was about to find out exactly where he belonged in the magical world.
He took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and followed Professor McGonagall into the light.
—
The Great Hall fell silent as every eye turned toward the front of the room, where a battered, patched wizard's hat sat perched on a three-legged stool. For a moment, nothing happened—the hat remained as still and lifeless as any piece of ancient clothing had a right to be.
Then, quite suddenly, a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the Sorting Hat began to sing:
---
*A thousand years or more ago,*
*When I was newly sewn,*
*Four founders of this castle great*
*Made magic all their own.*
*Bold Gryffindor from wild moor,*
*Where courage lights the way,*
*Said those with bravest hearts should learn*
*To fight and never sway.*
*Sweet Hufflepuff from valley broad,*
*Where loyal earth runs deep,*
*Believed that those who work the hardest*
*Have rewards to reap.*
*Sharp Ravenclaw from glen and crag,*
*Where clever minds take flight,*
*Declared that learning, wit, and wisdom*
*Were the truest light.*
*Cunning Slytherin from fen and mere,*
*Where ambition finds its course,*
*Knew greatness calls to those who seek it*
*Without shame or false remorse.*
*These four friends built this school together,*
*Each with different dreams,*
*But worried when they'd left this earth*
*Who'd sort the coming streams.*
*So Gryffindor, with wisdom rare,*
*Took me from off his head,*
*The founders gave me brains and wit*
*To sort you all instead!*
*So put me on! Don't be afraid!*
*Though I may look a fright,*
*I've sorted thousands in my time*
*And never got it wrong—quite right!*
*For Gryffindor, the brave of heart,*
*The bold who stand their ground,*
*Who'd face their fears for what is right—*
*It's there your home is found!*
*For Hufflepuff, the true and kind,*
*Who value loyalty,*
*Where patience, work, and honest toil*
*Build strong community!*
*For Ravenclaw, the sharp of mind,*
*Who seek to understand,*
*Where learning for its own sweet sake*
*Makes wisdom's finest stand!*
*For Slytherin, ambitious souls,*
*Who know what they desire,*
*Where cunning meets with purpose strong*
*And lights ambition's fire!*
*But hark! This year brings something new,*
*A change worth celebrating—*
*From distant shores across the sea,*
*Students worth anticipating!*
*An exchange of young and brilliant minds,*
*From America they've come,*
*To learn our ways and share their own,*
*Make Hogwarts feel like home!*
*They've trained with care and studied hard,*
*With dedication true,*
*And now they stand before us here*
*To join our Houses too!*
*So whether born on British soil*
*Or from across the ocean wide,*
*The magic in your hearts and minds*
*Will be your truest guide!*
*For magic knows no boundaries,*
*No borders, and no walls—*
*It flows through every worthy soul*
*Who answers to its calls!*
*So come now, students old and new,*
*From near and lands afar,*
*Together we'll write history*
*Beneath the same bright star!*
*Four Houses strong, united here,*
*Though different as can be,*
*Together making Hogwarts great—*
*Now that's true harmony!*
*So put me on and I'll divine*
*Where you are meant to be,*
*Whether Gryffindor or Hufflepuff,*
*Or Ravenclaw or Slytherin—you'll see!*
*I'll look inside and find the truth*
*Of who you really are,*
*And place you where you'll shine the most—*
*Your own bright, guiding star!*
*So step right up without delay,*
*Let's get this sorting done!*
*A new year waits, adventures call—*
*Let Hogwarts' magic run!*
---
The hat fell silent and went rigid once more. The Great Hall erupted in applause—some enthusiastic, some polite, all of it echoing off the enchanted ceiling that showed a perfect replica of the starry night sky outside.
Peter felt his heart hammering as Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long scroll of parchment, preparing to call the first name.
The Sorting was about to begin.
—
Professor McGonagall unrolled the parchment with ceremonial precision, her sharp eyes scanning the list of names with the kind of practiced efficiency that came from decades of conducting this exact ceremony. The Great Hall had fallen into an expectant hush, hundreds of students leaning forward slightly in their seats, curious to see which Houses would claim the new students.
"When I call your name," McGonagall announced, her voice carrying clearly across the vast space, "you will come forward, sit on the stool, and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head. The Hat will then announce your House."
She paused, glancing at the assembled first-years with an expression that managed to be both stern and oddly reassuring.
"Adler, Anna!"
A girl with blonde pigtails stumbled forward, her face pale with nervousness. The Hat was placed on her head, slipping down over her eyes, and after a moment's consideration, called out:
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
The table on the right side of the Hall exploded with cheers and applause as Hannah rushed to join her new House, relief written clearly across her features.
The Sorting continued with steady efficiency. "Bowen, Sarah!" became a Hufflepuff. "Brock, Terrance!" was declared a Ravenclaw, joining the table second from the left where students in blue and bronze welcomed him with enthusiastic applause. "Brown, Amanda!" also went to Ravenclaw.
Peter watched each sorting with growing anxiety, his hands clenched at his sides. The names were being called alphabetically, which meant his American friends would be scattered throughout the ceremony rather than grouped together. He tried to calculate where they'd fall in the sequence—
"Faccineli, James!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
More names, more sortings. "Grammer, Helen!" took nearly four minutes before the Hat called "GRYFFINDOR!" prompting enthusiastic applause from the red and gold table.
Then—
"Hardy, Felicia!"
Peter's attention snapped to full focus as Felicia stepped forward with that casual confidence that suggested she was walking onto a stage rather than toward a stool that would determine her next seven years. She sat with elegant poise, and McGonagall placed the Hat on her head.
The wait was longer than Peter expected—nearly three minutes, which apparently qualified as significant deliberation time based on the interested murmurs from the older students. Finally, the Hat's voice rang out:
"RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaw table erupted in applause, and Peter felt his heart skip slightly. One of his friends was in Ravenclaw. That felt significant, though he wasn't entirely sure why yet.
More names. "Hopkins, William!" went to Hufflepuff. "Jones, Morgan!" became a Ravenclaw, joining Felicia at the blue and bronze table.
Then—
"Leeds, Ned!"
Ned walked forward with Felix still perched on his shoulder, the Pygmy Puff cycling through nervous shades of purple and orange. There was a moment of confusion when McGonagall had to adjust the Hat's placement to accommodate Felix's presence, but eventually the Hat settled into position.
The deliberation was quick—less than thirty seconds.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table exploded with noise, and Peter caught a glimpse of Fred and George standing up to cheer, waving Ned over with obvious enthusiasm. Ned's face broke into a huge grin as he hurried to join them, Felix flashing celebratory gold colors.
Peter felt a strange mixture of happiness for his friend and growing apprehension about where he himself might end up. The group was already being divided—Felicia in Ravenclaw, Ned in Gryffindor. Where would the rest of them go?
The Sorting continued its alphabetical march. "Long, Neal!" took a long time before being placed in Gryffindor. "Macdonald, Ernest!" went to Hufflepuff.
"Mallory, Daniel!"
A boy with sleek black hair swaggered forward with obvious self-assurance. The Hat had barely touched his head before calling:
"SLYTHERIN!"
The green and silver table applauded, though Peter noticed the reception was somewhat more restrained than the enthusiasm shown by other Houses.
More sortings. "Moore, Julie!" to Ravenclaw. "North, Edward!" to Slytherin.
Then—
"Parker, Peter!"
Peter's heart immediately jumped into his throat. This was it. His legs felt simultaneously numb and too heavy as he walked forward, hyperaware of hundreds of eyes watching him. He could feel his face flushing, could hear his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.
He sat on the stool, and McGonagall placed the Hat on his head. It slipped down over his eyes, blocking out the Great Hall, and suddenly there was a voice in his head—dry, amused, and remarkably conversational:
*Well, well, what have we here? American, aren't you? One of the exchange students. Interesting mind you've got—very busy in there. Lots of thoughts happening all at once.*
Peter tried to form a coherent response, but his brain was too busy cataloguing everything that was happening to construct proper sentences.
*Quite right, quite right,* the Hat continued, sounding entertained. *You're analyzing this process even while experiencing it. Very Ravenclaw tendency, that. Love of learning for its own sake, curiosity about how things work, need to understand the underlying principles...*
Peter felt a surge of recognition. That did sound like him.
*But there's more,* the Hat mused, apparently in no hurry to make its decision. *Considerable courage hiding under all that nervous energy. And loyalty to your friends—very strong loyalty. You'd protect them without hesitation if they needed you. That's quite Gryffindor.*
Peter's analytical mind immediately started weighing the evidence, trying to predict which way the Hat would go based on—
*Still analyzing,* the Hat laughed. *You can't help yourself, can you? Always thinking, always questioning, always trying to understand everything from first principles. Yes, I think I know where you belong.*
The Hat's voice grew louder, addressing the entire Hall:
"RAVENCLAW!"
The blue and bronze table erupted in applause as Peter removed the Hat and made his way toward them, his legs somehow managing to carry him despite feeling like they might give out at any moment. Felicia waved him over to a seat beside her, grinning with obvious satisfaction.
"Welcome to the smart kids' table, Parker," she said as he sat down, still slightly dazed. "Told you the universe arranges things properly."
The Sorting continued. "Park, Patricia!" to Slytherin. "Paul, Pamela!" to Ravenclaw—she joined their table with a shy smile. "Paul, Primrose!"—her twin sister—went to Gryffindor, and Peter caught a glimpse of the twins exchanging slightly disappointed looks before Primrose was swept up in Gryffindor's welcome.
"Perkins, Samantha!" became a Hufflepuff.
Then—
"Stacy, Gwen!"
Gwen walked forward with characteristic precision, her posture perfect, her expression calm despite what must have been internal nervousness. She sat on the stool with efficient grace.
The Hat's deliberation took approximately two minutes—long enough to be interesting, short enough that it wasn't quite a Hatstall. Finally:
"RAVENCLAW!"
Peter felt a surge of relief as Gwen joined them at the table, settling in beside Padma Patil with obvious satisfaction. Three of the five Americans were together. That felt right, somehow—a team within a team, ready to tackle Hogwarts' academic challenges together.
"Logical placement," Gwen said as she sat down, apparently already analyzing the Hat's decision-making process. "Though I could see arguments for Gryffindor. Guess my love of systematic learning outweighed my moral conviction tendencies."
"Or the Hat saw that Ravenclaw needs people who actually organize things instead of just talking about interesting ideas," Felicia suggested. "Every smart kids' club needs someone who can turn theories into actual plans."
The Sorting pressed forward. "Thomas, Dawn!" went to Gryffindor. "Turner, Elizabeth!" joined Ravenclaw.
Then—
"Watson, Mary Jane!"
MJ walked to the stool with artistic grace, her copper-red hair catching the candlelight as she sat. The Hat's deliberation was longer than Peter's had been—nearly four minutes of consideration while the Hall waited with growing interest.
Finally, the Hat spoke:
"RAVENCLAW!"
The table erupted again, and Peter found himself cheering along with his new Housemates as MJ made her way toward them. She slid into the seat across from Peter with obvious relief.
"Thank everything," she said quietly, looking around at their group. "I was terrified I'd end up somewhere else and have to make completely new friends."
"Ravenclaw apparently values artistic intelligence," Gwen observed. "Makes sense—understanding how to represent complex ideas through visual media requires the same kind of analytical thinking as any other academic discipline."
"Or the Hat just recognized that I think too much about everything and decided the smart kids would understand that," MJ replied with a slight smile.
The Sorting continued its march through the remaining names. Peter watched with divided attention as "Weasley, Fred!" and "Weasley, George!" were both sorted into Gryffindor with the Hat barely touching their heads—apparently the Weasley family's House affiliation was so strong that deliberation was unnecessary. They joined their brother Charlie and their new friend Ned with obvious jubilation, the Gryffindor table welcoming them with the kind of enthusiasm that suggested their reputation had preceded them.
"Zachariah, Blaine!" became the final sorting of the night, joining Slytherin to polite applause.
As the last first-year found their seat, Peter looked around the Ravenclaw table, taking stock of their situation. Four of the five Americans had been sorted together—himself, MJ, Gwen, and Felicia. Only Ned had gone to Gryffindor, though given Fred, George, and Lee's presence there, he'd have immediate friends and support.
"Not bad," Felicia observed, apparently conducting the same analysis. "We've got the core team together, plus Ned's in good hands with the Weasley twins. This could work."
"It's actually an interesting distribution," Gwen said, already thinking in terms of inter-House collaboration and academic advantages. "We've got strong representation in Ravenclaw for intellectual pursuits, and Ned's Gryffindor placement gives us connections to their social network and practical approach to problem-solving."
"You're already strategizing about House politics," MJ said with fond exasperation. "We've been sorted for literally five minutes."
"Preparation is never premature," Gwen replied with absolute seriousness.
At the staff table, Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet, his silver beard catching the candlelight as he spread his arms in a gesture that seemed to embrace the entire Hall. His voice carried clearly across the space without needing to shout:
"Welcome! Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have only a few words to say before we begin our feast: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
There was a moment of confused silence, then the confused silence was replaced by something far more impressive.
The empty golden plates on all four House tables suddenly filled with food—roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon, steak, joints of meat that Peter couldn't immediately identify, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire puddings, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup—
"Is that food just appearing from nowhere?" Peter asked with scientific fascination and growing hunger, staring at the impossible feast that had materialized in front of them.
"Kitchens are directly below the Great Hall," a Ravenclaw prefect explained from further down the table. "House-elves prepare everything, then magic transports it up through the tables. Very efficient system—been working for centuries."
"House-elves," MJ repeated thoughtfully, filing that information away for future reference. "We're going to need to learn about magical labor systems, aren't we?"
"Among approximately seven thousand other topics," Gwen agreed, already mentally constructing a comprehensive research schedule.
But for now, research could wait. They had survived the Sorting, been placed in Houses that seemed to genuinely fit them, and had emerged with their friendship group largely intact despite the institutional division. Ned caught Peter's eye from the Gryffindor table, grinning and waving with obvious happiness, Felix flashing celebratory colors on his shoulder.
Peter waved back, then turned his attention to the feast before him. The Great Hall was filled with the sounds of hundreds of students eating and talking and laughing, the enchanted ceiling showing stars that seemed to shine more brightly than they should, and somewhere in the distance, beyond the ancient stone walls, the magical world waited to be explored.
They were Hogwarts students now. Officially sorted, properly placed, ready to begin their education in magic.
The adventure had truly begun.
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