The Sorting Ceremony

Tucked away secretly in the Scottish Highlands, a castle sat in a small valley. It was well isolated from neighboring towns and villages, and its stone towers loomed over a lake which stretched around the castle's perimeter. Apart from a poorly-kept courtyard and several acres of front yard, the castle was enclosed by a thick, gloomy forest. The foliage was warped and stained, as if tainted by an evil blight, and strange noises echoed over the rolling, tree-covered hilltops.

After the Sun dropped below the horizon, and the last rays of daylight dissipated in clouds above, a thin portion of the forest was illuminated by soft torchlight. A convoy of carriages was being driven toward the castle, and occupants were delivered to the courtyard. Sounds of animated children filled the air, rising in volume as more carriages arrived, until the oak doors swung open and welcomed the dark-robed crowd into an entrance hall.

In another direction, along the castle's east wing, a procession of small boats sailed across the lake water, each filled by two or three children. One carried a dark-haired boy at its bow, and he gazed upon the gigantic structure before him with a hint of a smile on his lips. He absentmindedly traced his fingers through the passing lake water while the boat sailed forward without any discernible forces acting on it. The boy would have questioned how the vessel was driven, but he knew exactly how it worked: the boat was fueled by magic, of course. Any wizarding child would have known it.

The undisturbed water of the Black Lake was smooth against the boy's hand. Albus Potter could see the castle's reflection well over the shimmery surface, and he was impressed by the sheer volume of the castle. He had seen Hogwarts before, but the ancient school seemed more striking in the darkness of twilight. The other first years, especially the muggleborns, were staring slack-jawed at the building. Albus' ears perked up as the children began speaking to each other.

"I was so sure it was all a prank, was utterly sure of it." one muttered to his boat-mates.

"Really? I was sold when a teacher turned our tea-kettle into a horse. Mum was upset that he'd forgotten to change it back."

Albus eyed the other students with a small amount of envy. None of them had any idea about magic, or anything of his world, until a short while ago. They could have been plain muggles and been happy about it, ignorant of their incapacity. Albus, however, had been plainly aware of his disability. He was a squib, left with a half-life. He fit in neither the muggle or magical world.

His brother James would certainly grow to be a formidable wizard; he had levitated the kitchen table by the age of four, and Lily wasn't far behind him. Albus still sported a welt on his backside from an accidental stinging hex, having been delivered after he'd stolen her dessert last week.

Well, his prospects weren't completely hopeless. Hogwarts had admitted him conditionally, enrolling him in an experimental program. The magical school had denied entry to people like him for centuries, but the Ministry of Magic had convinced the Board of Governors to implement a new curriculum for squibs, like himself, so children like himself could be prepared for life without magic.

The thought reminded him of a letter, which was kept in his robe pocket. His father had asked him to open it when he arrived at the castle, since it wouldn't open until it registered the Hogwarts' magical wards. Albus suspected his aunt Hermione had secured the letter; Harry Potter was a talented wizard, but he was awful with warding spells. Albus dug the letter from his pocket, accidentally fishing out some chocolate wrappers with it, and gingerly opened the envelope. It was difficult to read under the torch-light, but his father had thankfully practiced his quill-work.

Al,

You may feel put-out with the other students. You no doubt wonder why some of them have been given such a gift while you must learn to live without it. We have spoken about the topic many times, and you've told me not to worry about it, but I know it bothers you.. I hope you find friends with whom to confide, as I did at Hogwarts. Perhaps you will find a mentor, also. I would have been killed many years ago had it not been for Professor Dumbledore or Sirius Black.

At any rate, I believe you will find making friends easier than expected. While you know of several other squibs also attending this year, I haven't told you about the others. I'm sorry I didn't tell you earlier, but for apparent reasons we wanted to wait until everyone was at Hogwarts until we made the announcement.

Muggle children will be attending Hogwarts this year.

The Ministry has decided to invite the muggles because, as you know, we need to establish positive relations in case we must disclose ourselves to the rest of the world. We must show partnership with the muggles early if we have any hope at all to gain their trust. I tell you this now so that you understand the opportunity to make friends with anyone who may help you overcome whatever challenges you may face in the coming years, and we both know to never underestimate the cleverness of our non-magical counterparts.

I implore you to remain tactful over the next few months, because of the common hard-feelings toward muggles. That attack last week could have been tragic, if we hadn't been tipped off, and we're sure that more are on the way. Try to protect those around you however you can, but don't risk your own safety. (which is stupid of me to say, but it's my job as your father to say it nonetheless.)

I've included a piece of parchment with this letter. Keep it hidden and safe. Once you've learned how it works, you will have deserved the right to use it. I'll go ahead and tell you that it's wicked complicated, so you better get started.

Please write home after your sorting. You know we will be proud of you no matter where you go. Each house would be honored to have you among its ranks. I love you, son.

Good Luck,

Dad

P.S.- Please don't make enemies with Malfoy.

Albus felt guilty about his jealousy of the other students. Any of them could be a poor muggle, having no clue of the dangers associated with their title. He eyed the other boat to inspect them. The first boy was rather short, with long brown hair. He had a stubby nose and squared glasses. The girl who owned the kettle-horse was very pleasing to the eye, with shoulder-length blond hair and a heart shaped face. Albus couldn't tell in the dark, but she seemed to have bright green eyes. The other was a dark-skinned, lanky boy with a sharp jaw. He seemed to smile a lot.

Albus pocketed his letter, along with the mysterious parchment, and began to mull over what he had learned.

"MIND YER HEADS!" boomed Hagrid.

The boats approached the castle, and Albus swatted vines from his face as he sailed underneath. Rose Weasley, his cousin, simply parted the plants with her wand. She was a bit of a show-off, Albus admitted.

She leaned toward him, face stern, and asked, "What did the letter say?"

"Well … ", Albus replied, "I expect you'll find out soon." She didn't enjoy being left in the dark, which was precisely why Albus hadn't told her. Being a squib meant you had to make your jabs when you could. She would have grilled him with more questions, had she not been distracted by one of the students falling into the lake.

O

Neville Longbottom stood over the first-years, trying to appear intimidating. "Your house will determine where you sleep, where you eat, and how you live inside the castle. Rule breaking will lose your house points, and successes will earn your house points. The end of the term will prove which house deserves the house cup."

Scorpius Malfoy noticeably rolled his eyes, silently speaking something to his friends. Albus thought he caught the word, "Hufflepoofs".

Professor Longbottom cleared his throat, eyeing the Malfoy closely, and continued. "You will now be led to the sorting ceremony, where you will be chosen for your house. I hope that you all," he took a moment to look at Scorpius, "will respect one another while waiting your turn."

The doors behind the professor opened, and light poured over the first-years. The Great Hall was bigger than Albus remembered, and he didn't recall the hundreds of floating candles, now suspended below the star-spotted ceiling.

A still-dripping first-year gasped in wonder. He turned to another, pointing up, and exclaimed, "Look at that ceiling! How did they manage it?"

Neville turned and spoke over his shoulder, "Magic, Mr. Adkins, is how we managed it."

Professor Longbottom began their march to the front of the hall, with the older students barely noticing the event. They had, Albus noticed, seen this many times before. He stood on his toes to get a glance of his brother, but couldn't find him among the sea of black and crimson robes at the Gryffindor table. Albus abruptly turned around when he heard somebody begin to sing.

It was a hat.

Hogwarts, a castle of learning and thought,

A place you'll hate to leave.

I don't know what you'll be taught,

But where you go, that's up to me.

Invite me into your fresh new heads,

I have your interest at heart.

Don't feel the common sense of dread,

Of a new life about to start.

The founders were good magical folk,

With a need to teach and dream.

Of a world where children could learn and live,

And become the best to be.

Will you go to Gryffindor House,

And ready your hearts to fight.

Or is your place in Slytherin,

To continue Salazar's plight.

Perhaps you'll be in Ravenclaw,

A house of knowledge and mind.

Or Maybe you'll go to Hufflepuff,

Proud friends of every kind.

I won't promise to do as you say,

I'll place you where you need.

To better yourself and better the else,

No matter your blood nor creed.

It's time we stand for one another,

To speak to the powers outside,

Enough with the hate, the cowardice, the pace!

Toward a world best left behind.

Put me on and wear me proud,

But please don't drag your feet.

I'll put you where you need to go,

Open your mind and take a seat!

The Great Hall erupted in applause, aside from most of the Slytherins, and Albus finally found his brother. James was standing up, clapping his hands, and grinning at Al.

"When I call your name", shouted Neville, "please advance to the platform to be sorted."

Albus felt is stomach grow cold, like it usually did when something bad was going to happen. What would happen to him if Neville forgot call his name? What if the squib program was just a big misunderstanding? Neville read from a scroll, standing beside the stool, hat in hand. "Adkins, Henry!" he shouted, silencing the tables.

The muggleborn stepped up to the stool and glanced nervously around the hall. Albus hoped fewer of his peers would take so long just to get the hat on their head, since he heard from James how long the sorting ceremony could be. Somebody had told him his dad took five full minutes under the brim of the Sorting Hat. After the boy when to Hufflepuff, the pace quickened. Gryffindor got one first-year, Ravenclaw got three, Slytherin gained a new Malfoy plus a henchman, and Hufflepuff welcomed two more students. Albus began to sweat as the alphabet climbed dangerously close to the P's.

"Odette, Valerie!"

The blonde girl stepped onto the platform, head high. Albus admired her resolve, since he was sure he'd make a fool of himself in a few moments. He waited for the sorting hat to finish.

And then he waited some more.

Albus could feel his nerves, or what was left of them, constricting and churning while he waited; he couldn't help but to imagine the hat leaping from the muggle girl's head in distaste, just before doing the same to himself.

In that moment, fortunately for Albus, the hat had reached a decision, it ripped open its seems and announced loudly to the crowd, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The girl jumped from the stool ecstatically, and she nearly ran off with the hat still on her head. Neville grabbed it as she passed him, running to make new friends at the table of the brave and righteous.

"Potter, Albus!" Neville shouted.

The hall was instantly silenced. Albus looked forward and stepped toward his fate. He awkwardly climbed onto the seat and sat frozen beneath the stares of the students. Neville gently placed the sorting hat on his head, which rested just below his brow. The sorting hat's voice was raspy, as Albus would have expected, and it rang between the corners of his mind. "Well, it seems like we have another Potter… what should we do with you?"

"Not put me in Slytherin."Albus thought, hoping the hat could hear him.

"Your brother told me that, your father did too, and his father, also. Perhaps it's time to break the pattern, Albus?"

"Put me where you think I will do best, but I'm not going to Slytherin. They'd kill me for what I am."

"Yes, I have no doubt about that either. Slytherin is not the place for you. You have much empathy for a child. Perhaps Hufflepuff? Although your mind is sharp... and you have a fierce need to protect your family and friends. I'd say you would do well in any of the three other houses."

Albus was aware of the occupants in the hall. Everyone had grown eerily quiet, besides for the hushed whispers of students making the odd bet. Albus wondered how much gold he would cost someone.

"Then put me where my family is, in Gryffindor."

"You will find some opposition there, you know. Gryffindors wear the title of bold and right, but they may not welcome someone with your… condition. At least, not as much as Hufflepuff. They would truly accept you there."

"Place me where I could better benefit those around me, especially my family. That is all I ask."

"Very well, Albus. You shall go to…."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table exploded with excitement. The Weasleys jumped to their feet and clapped their hands, while James had managed to transfigure a crude trumpet to play badly over the applause. Fred Weasley's wand made a loud popping noise, showering nearby students with champagne and confetti. Albus took off the hat, whispering a quick thank you, and made his way to his new home. He sat next to his brother, accepting several pats on the back and handshakes.

"So you finally made it, you little squirt!" James said, punching him on the shoulder. "I just made five sickles thanks to you. Here's one for yourself, seeing how you did the work. Don't go spending it all at one place."

Albus graciously accepted the money, which was something his mum rarely let them keep much of. She said it built character. He suspected she just didn't trust them with it. Which was well-deserved, he had to admit.

He leaned toward his brother and whispered, "I bet four sickles Rose goes to Ravenclaw."

"Al, she's a Weasley. Don't be daft."

"She's also created two new spells since buying her books. Bet or not?"

"Deal."

Several more students were distributed between the houses, and Albus tried to remember their names for future use. Although it wouldn't matter too much, seeing how he wouldn't have many classes with any of them, since he was a squib.

"Weasley, Rose!" Neville called out, smiling at the child. He had already known she was a genius. A few of the plants in the greenhouses were grown by her. Albus and James leaned forward, not bothering to feel guilty about betting on their cousin's future. Money didn't make itself after all.

The sorting hat was dropped on her red hair and immediately shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

James pumped his fist in the air. "HA!"

Albus was happy, even though he'd lost his gold. Rose would prove invaluable in the study hall, and she was pleasant sometimes, when she tried. Albus smiled and patted her on the shoulder as she passed him to gain her seat at the table. With the ceremony finished, and greetings completed, everyone's attention turned toward the head table, where Neville, Hagrid, and the other professors sat. Albus recognized a few faces, but most of the faculty where unknown to him.

The headmaster, Gladys Whitaker, stood to his podium and stretched his hands. He was an elderly man with a short grey beard and a star dotted, lightning blue hat on his head. The man tended to favor his left side. "Welcome back to Hogwarts for another year of invigorating education! We're all very excited for the upcoming term, and I have several announcements to make. Firstly, our resilient caretaker, Mr. Filch, has updated our prohibited items list. You may read this list in your dormitories, where it is posted on your bulletin board. The Forbidden Forest is, again, off-limits to all students, and we have introduced many changes to our curriculum this year. All students should look over the pamphlets we have provided in your common rooms. Also, we have several new instructors to introduce this evening. Firstly, meet Professor Odette, a renowned expert in his field of theoretical physics."

A skinny, balding man stood from his seat. He wore rounded glasses and a trimmed red beard. He appeared to be good natured, with a wide smile and positive demeanor. For some inexplicable reason, he wore a muggle suit. He briefly waved his hand and sat down before anyone could figure out what is field of specialty exactly meant. Most the students wore frowns of concentration, and a select few of the Slytherins looked murderous. A voice rang out from across the hall. "You can't possibly be implying that we learn magic from a MUGGLE!"

The headmaster's head swiveled toward the Slytherin table, his eyed narrowed. "Correct, Mr. Harper! I never implied anything. I stated it plain as day. You will attend classes, like your peers, under the instruction of Dr. Odette. He will be teaching our Magical Theory courses, and I would love to see you try to find someone more qualified. I hope your tone of voice was surprise rather than indignation, else I would have to sentence you to detention for the rest of the year for your outburst."

The Slytherin attempted to reign in control of his voice. "I intended no transgression toward our… esteemed instructor. I am only at a loss to realize how he may instruct us on a subject he has never practiced. Muggle science is known to be a bag of tricks."

It was the new professor who replied, with a happy, tolerant tone. "When you magic your way to the Moon and back, Mr. Harper, I would consider listening to your criticisms. Until that moment you will simply have to trust my bag of tricks, however crude you think it is. Professor, let us introduce our other professors. I'd say the students will resort to cannibalism soon enough."

Headmaster Whitaker barked a short laugh, though Albus wasn't sure which statement he found amusing, and continued with his introductions.

Albus couldn't pay attention to the rest of the announcements, as he was focused on the blonde muggleborn down the table. She had slipped a few tears and was trying to subtly wipe them from her cheeks. Albus was unsure whether they were from sadness or anger, considering she looked to be in both states simultaneously. He switched his gaze back to the new theory professor, then the realization struck him. They were family.

James turned to his brother and whispered in a hushed tone, "You get a letter from dad?"

"Yeah."

"Then I assume you just made the same connection I did. We need to watch the backs of our special students this year. The Slytherins are already furious and they haven't even heard the worst of it."

Albus didn't reply, but nodded his head in agreement. They would discover the identities of the muggles soon enough, assuming the Slytherins didn't get to them first.

Then, suddenly enough to startle him, platters of food appeared in front of the ravenous students. James swatted Al's hand away from the chicken legs, claiming the plate for himself. His brother muttered something about the ickey firsties learning the social hierarchy before Fred Weasley summoned the platter out of James' hand to his own.

O

Albus found the Gryffindor common room to be spacious, thankfully, and quite cozy. Furniture was strewn haphazardly around, the older pieces well worn-in, and the crimson walls spotted with the occasional spell mark. The house-elves apparently couldn't keep up with the shenanigans of Hogwarts' most disorderly group of students, and Albus wondered if they had stopped trying. The fireplace was impressive, the most redeeming feature of the room, and many returning students had rushed to their favorite seats to enjoy smuggled butter beer by the hearth.

The first-years' prefect spoke a few words about the house rules and customs, making sure to mention the girls' sliding staircase, albeit with flushed cheeks and some snickers from the older students. Eventually, with formalities concluded, the Gryffindors dispersed throughout the tower. A good majority had gone to bed, in hopes of being well-rested for the first day of classes, but the excited first years and rebellious older students relaxed by the fire. Albus picked his issued pamphlet from his robes, like most of the others, and looked it over. His gaze shifted to the title, FIRST YEAR COURSE ADAPTATIONS, and drew a breath.

First-Year Students,

We are pleased to enact an investigational program for our Hogwarts curriculum, which will offer courses to both magical and non-magical youths. Our aim is to educate squib children, and visiting muggles, in a specialized skill-set so they may become a viable workforce within our ever-changing magical industries. While each category of student will sometimes attend classes exclusively with their own kind, there will be considerable overlap in classes. Magical students will be defined as any student capable of using a wand unassisted, while non-magical students will consist of both muggles and squibs. All first-year courses are as follows:

NON-MAGICAL CORE CURRICULUM

Mixed Attendance

Magical Theory

Survey of Brewing

History of Magic

Herbology Fundamentals

Exclusive Attendance

Muggle Civilization

Muggle Literature

Muggle Science

MAGICAL CORE CURRICULUM

Mixed Attendance

Magical Theory

Survey of Brewing

History of Magic

Herbology Fundamentals

Exclusive Attendance

Principles of Defense

Survey of Charms

Basic Transfiguration

An older student whistled loudly, reading his with raised eyebrows. "I would give ten galleons to hear the Slytherins' common room right now."

Fred Weasley looked up, eyes gleaming. "They will drown themselves in the lake!"

"Or jump from the Astronomy Tower?"

"Harper will be so distraught in Potions he might poison himself."

James didn't join their discussion, to the surprise of his brother, but rather looked at his own pamphlet with a pensive expression. He slowly stood up, running fingers through his hair. "What does it mean by using a wand unassisted?"

The small group was silenced by his remark, and the feel-good atmosphere disappeared. Rick Jordan, a fifth year Albus had met earlier, shook his head in confusion.

"Professor Hagrid uses that umbrella, doesn't he? Could that have something to do with it?"

"No, that wouldn't", Rose disagreed, "Hagrid is a normal wizard with a wand inside his umbrella. This language implies that non-wizards can still use a wand, if given some sort of help. Likely a potion or sp…"

She was interrupted by more Gryffindors, who had picked up on the conversation.

A beady-eyed fourth year, seemingly proud of the patchy facial hair he'd recently grown, waved his hand dismissively and scoffed. "No way. If muggles figured out a way to use magic, there's no possible way we'd be standing here. The whole planet would have imploded months ago."

Rose rolled her eyes but responded with a patient voice. "It wouldn't be common knowledge. I doubt more than a handful of them would even know about it, let alone how to actually use it."

"What do you mean, imploded?" James asked. "Muggles might be a little eager sometimes, but they're not reckless."

Rick Jordan directed an angry glare at James. "What? You call Hiroshima A LITTLE EAGER?"

"The American's don't count. Of course, they'd manage to muck it up."

"THEY'D BE THE FIRST TO KNOW ABOUT IT!"

Albus covered his ears as the whole common room exploded with arguments. He saw Rose drawing out some type of diagram in the air with her wand, James had his finger pointed in the face of a much larger seventh-year, and Fred Weasley screamed things like "MUGGLES ARE EVIL", just to encourage the debate.

Albus caught a brief glimpse of Valerie Odette as she rushed up the stairs to her dormitory. He remembered what his father had told him, about the political fallout of Hogwarts' decision, and he became impossibly frustrated. How many Muggles were at Hogwarts? In the common room? How did they feel about the harsh criticism being thrown around so lightly? Were they afraid for their own safety, as Albus was concerned for his own? They should be, he realized, since they were unimaginably bigger targets than himself. He had thought the muggle students could seek refuge behind the Fat Lady's portrait, the supposed domain of Godric Gryffindor.

But he was wrong. The very same bigotry, although diluted, existed everywhere in the wizarding world. While most wizards and witches didn't mind muggles personally, they still feared them and their technology. His father told him the muggles would eventually discover magic on their own. Either by finding it in nature by themselves, or by finding traces of wizards, the muggles would connect the dots eventually. His father told them they should decide to bridge the cultural gap in effort to ease the blow when all hell broke loose. That's why the Odettes were here. The professor had sacrificed his muggle life to help wizards advance into a new era. Muggles like him were throwing their lives away, but were ostracized only for the blood in their veins.

Death Eater ideology ran deeper in the wizarding world than Albus expected.

His face heated up and his blood grew cold. "DID ANY OF YOU," he yelled, "in your infinite wisdom, happen to realize that muggles were here with us? That there was a large chance we'd have some in this room RIGHT NOW?" He didn't bother to look at the faces of the students. He grabbed his bag and headed for his dormitory, in hopes he hadn't earned any enemies before classes started.

He mentally berated himself for losing his control. He had always been proud of his mild temperament, aside from the odd shouting matches he shared with James. He rested his forehead against his wooden dormitory door.

Breakfast would be awkward.

The dormitory housed two beds, and Albus quickly claimed one far away from the window, because his brother warned him of the chilly Scottish winters. Albus wasn't sure if magic could duplicate muggle heating systems; he suspected it could but wizards just didn't bother with it.

Another first-year was sitting on his mattress, admiring the curtain of his four-poster bed, tracing his fingers along the satin sheets. Al didn't blame him. The beds were rather magnificent. Albus remembered him as the one who shared a boat with Valerie Odette and Henry Adkins. "Wotcher, mate!" the boy said, "My name's Dan Culper, I suppose you'd be Al Potter?"

"Yep, that's me."

"Very good, that. I don't know what it means, seeing how both my parents are muggles, but I reckon your family is good folk, what with how the others talk about your dad. Is he famous or something?"

Albus laughed.

"Right, I guess that means a definite 'yes', or a definite 'no'. Which is it then?"

"It's a 'yes' the size of a mountain troll." Albus said while dragging his trunk to the bottom of his four-poster bed. "He killed a dark wizard a couple decades ago, supposedly the worst England has ever seen. Well, and there was the time about the dragon on the Thames… but I can't remember much about that one. I was really little."

Dan looked skeptical. "Dragons are real? How'd you manage to hide stuff like that?"

"Simple, Dan." Albus said cheerily. "We don't hide it. At least, we can't much anymore. Muggle cell phones will muck up the statute of secrecy eventually. It's only a matter of time."

"Whoa. What'll happen then?"

Albus crashed onto his bed and looked at the full moon through the smudged window. "I don't know Dan. Maybe the teachers will help explain it …" Albus yawned loudly. "We should mention it to the muggle professor. He might know."

"Yeah! Good idea, Al." Dan responded. "Hey, what's a squib?"

Albus didn't respond, because he had already drifted to sleep. His roommate Dan also fell asleep soon after, also victim to the bed's sleeping charm that their prefect had forgotten to mention.