I stared out of the tall windows, waiting for the headmaster. Hogwarts felt… different. It was similar to Ilvermorny, yet fundamentally distinct. The scale was grander, more imposing. I could see for miles in every direction, and every stone felt steeped in history.
“Y/N Y/L/N, welcome to Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” a voice said, and I turned around. Albus Dumbledore himself stood before me, and a wave of astonishment washed over me. “I’m Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, your headmaster for the next few years, at least I hope so,” he said, approaching me with a twinkle in his eye. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a transfer student. Must be rather exciting for you.”
“It is, sir.”
“You’ll be entering your fifth year with your peers. What house were you in at Ilvermorny?”
“The Horned Serpents, sir.”
“Ah, representing the mind. I’ve always liked that house. I believe the mind is what *makes* the wizard, not merely intelligence,” he said, his gaze thoughtful.
“The first-years have arrived, which means the Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly. I’ll assign you a mentor to guide you through your first days, now that you’ve been sorted. Professor McGonagall will escort you there,” he said, gesturing as the professor walked by, followed by a stream of nervous first-years.
“Oh, you must be Y/N Y/L/N. Follow me, please,” she said, and I fell into step behind her.
——
“Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts,” Dumbledore announced, and the Great Hall erupted in applause.
“Now now, as always, a few rules to review. The Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, strictly forbidden to all students, as is the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side. I also remind you to observe curfew. No one is allowed outside their common room past curfew. Lastly, we have a transfer student, all the way from Ilvermorny, North America. She’ll be entering her fifth year. I suggest you treat her kindly,” Dumbledore said, and I felt a flush of heat rise in my cheeks. I loathed attention, especially not from hundreds of curious eyes.
I heard shouts and whistles, and turned my head. A boy with platinum blonde hair smirked, nudging his companion beside him. He sat perched atop his table, as if claiming ownership of the entire hall. I rolled my eyes. *Slytherin*, I remembered reading about them.
“Maya Davies,” Professor McGonagall called, and a girl with long black hair braided down her back rushed forward. The Sorting Hat was placed on her head, and I remembered reading about that too. It was fascinating, we didn't use a hat at Ilvermorny. “Gryffindor!” The hat bellowed, and the girl beamed. “Brian Thompson.”
The Sorting Ceremony continued, stretching on and on. I was last, and a wave of boredom seemed to ripple through the hall. Then my name was called, and a strange nervousness gripped me. I had no idea where I belonged. I’d heard Hufflepuffs were kind and loyal, Ravenclaws smart and creative, Gryffindors brave and daring, and Slytherins ambitious and cunning. I embodied aspects of each house. I was kind, certainly intelligent, and would defend myself if necessary. I was ambitious, too. I felt like I possessed a little of everything, but not enough of one thing to truly *belong*.
McGonagall placed the hat on my head, and I inhaled slowly, trying to quell the rising anxiety. “Hmm…” the Sorting Hat murmured within the silence of my mind. “A lot of brain and curiosity, but kindness at heart. A spark, too – someone not to be trifled with. Difficult, very difficult…” If the Sorting Hat itself was unsure…
“Ravenclaw!” It shouted, and I looked up, surprised. The blue table erupted in applause, beckoning me forward. The wise and witty. “Such a pity, she’s hot,” I overheard, and saw the blonde boy again, the same smirk twisting his lips. What an arrogant fool. I rolled my eyes again and took an empty seat at the Ravenclaw table.
“Don’t mind him. That’s Draco Malfoy. Not someone you want to get close to,” a girl with Asian features said, leaning across the table.
“Luna Lovegood, fellow Ravenclaw,” a girl with long, curly blonde hair said, extending her hand. Her voice was calming, her smile genuine. I shook her hand. “I’m Luna Lovegood.”
“I’m Cho,” she said, smiling warmly. “Luna and I are also fifth years.” At least things were going well so far.