Angelica Putters was and had always been very different from the other children. Driven. Determined. Talented. These were the word often thrown around to describe her. Witch was never one of them until a certain rainy summer morning, unremarkable in every way, it seemed, until a sharp knock sounded at the door, startling Mr. Putters, who had previously been very engaged in his oatmeal.
At the door was a tall, stern-looking woman dressed in a respectable skirt and blazer. She explained to Mr. and Mrs. Putters that their daughter was even more special than they had believed. Angelica was a witch. She was to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in September instead of returning to her studies. Her parents were amazed, overjoyed, at the idea of their child being magical. They were so happy about this fact that they misread Angelica's wide eyes as shock and not fear. They assured the woman, who introduced herself as Professor McGonagall, that Angelica would be attending. They shook the professor's hand and walked her to the door of their apartment.
That was how she had ended up standing on a hidden platform, staring at a scarlet train, clutching the handle of her trunk and wholeheartedly wishing that she was just a bit more regular. Previously, Angelica had attended the Royal Ballet School in London. She had been declared a prodigy. Gifted. She had thrown herself higher and higher, each hour spent practising, every blister, injury and sore muscle bringing her closer to a principal position. Giselle. Odette and Odile. Kitri. The Sugar Plum. These were the things Angelica wanted to be. She did not want to be a witch. Her parents saw this as an opportunity for her to escape a short career and whole lot of pain. They walked her down a narrow alley filled with strange shops, staring at gold coins, purple toads and rune-filled books. They talked about magic and learned all they could about careers, internships and important wizarding qualifications. The only consolation was her cat, Paquita. Paquita was allowed to come and Angelica was currently trying to pet her through the sides of her carrier as she balanced it on top of her trunk.
As whistles sounded, kids lugging their trunks and pets rushed towards the doors of the train, and their parents prepared to say goodbye until Christmastime. "I'd better get on, then," Angelica said, turning to her parents. She was half hoping her father would decide he would miss her too much and her mother would decide that she couldn't throw years of ballet away.
"We'll miss you so much," her mother said, pulling Angelica into her chest.
"You're going to learn so much. And there's so many opportunities for you there," her father told her and she felt his hand on her hair as he joined the hug.
"Remember to write," said Mrs. Putters as she pulled away, straightening her daughter's collar, "and be sure to study hard."
"Bye," Angelica's arms strained as she pulled her trunk after her.
A tall boy with dark hair bumped into her, almost knocking her over. "Sorry, I didn't see you," he said before jogging after his friends.
"It's fine," Angelica told him before heaving her trunk up the step and onto the train. Paquita sneezed and the cluster of older students already wearing their robes turned to stare at her in distaste before continuing to block the corridor.
"Sorry, I need to get by," Angelica said, but no one moved. Stepping a little closer, she tried again, "I need to get through."
'I swear, mate, there're getting smaller," one of the boys joked, before stepping aside just enough for Angelica to slip through.
She passed carriage after carriage, each one full of happily chattering students. Finally spotting only two people sitting in one, Angelica knocked lightly before sliding open the door. "Could I sit in here?" she asked.
"Saved," one of the girls said, sliding her bag onto an empty seat for emphasis.
Angelica slid the door shut and continued down the corridor, hot tears burning at the backs of her eyes. She refused to let them fall, digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand as well as she could around the handle of Paquita's carrier. The last of the whistles sounded outside and the guards on the platform began snapping doors shut. Inside the train, it was the sliding of compartment doors that sounded louder to Angelica. Now nearly everyone had found a place to sit and the people walking the hallways were chatting with their friends about their summers.
"Excuse me," Angelica turned her head to see a frizzy haired girl sticking her head out of her compartment, "do you want to sit with us?"
"Oh! Um, thanks," Angelica slid inside, wiping her eyes quickly before placing Paquita on a seat and hoisted her trunk onto the rack.
"I'm Hermione Granger," the girl said.
"Angelica Putters."
The door slid open. "W-would you mind if I sat here?" It was a slightly chubby, nervous looking boy.
"Not at all," Hermione said, with a quick glance at Angelica.
"Thanks," the boy said nervously, pulling his trunk inside and catching it on the door. Hermione sprang up to help him and together they heaved it onto the case beside Angelica's.
"I don't know how you were able to that by yourself," she said to Angelica before turning to the boy. "I'm Hermione Granger and you are?"
"Neville. Neville Longbottom," the boy said, settling into the seat across from Angelica.
"I'm Angelica," she said "Do you guys mind if I let my cat out? She doesn't like being in small spaces."
They both shrugged and Angelica flipped the latch on the carrier, swinging open the door. Paquita stepped out, carefully settling onto the seat which bumped slightly as the train ran along the tracks.
"Oh, bad luck already!" Hermione joked; Paquita was solidly black with startling grey eyes.
"What do you mean?" Neville asked, looking quizzically between the two girls.
"It's a superstition. Black cats crossing your path bring bad luck, although it's more of a joke now that no one actually believes things like that any more. Have you never heard it before?" Hermione asked.
"No," Neville replied, shaking his head. "Although it might be a Muggle one? Are you muggleborn?"
"What's a muggleborn?" Angelica asked.
Hermione answered before Neville could get the chance with a practised quickness that made Angelica mark her as someone who was deeply involved in classroom discussions. "A muggleborn is a witch or wizard with parents who aren't. I guess you're one from your not knowing about it?" Angelica nodded. "Well, anyways, I am. Are your parents wizards?" she asked Neville.
He hesitated for a second before replying, "Yes, but I live with my gran."
The conversation stopped for a second before Hermione once again began talking, "Can I hold your cat?"
"Sure, she really likes people," said Angelica.
"What's her name?" Neville asked.
"Paquita, after the ballet," Angelica told him.
"Oh, I saw that with my parents when the Royal Ballet put it on! Did you see it too?" Hermione asked.
"I was in it," she said, smiling a little shyly when Neville's and Hermione's eyes widened in surprise.
"Really? That's amazing! Who did you play?" Hermione said.
"Um, I was one of the children in the gypsy camp, It was actually my first ballet role," said Angelica.
"But I was only six when I saw it!" Hermione exclaimed.
"Everyone else was older than I was," Angelica explained.
"You must be really good," Neville said.
A little uncomfortable, Angelica changed topics. "Do either of you know which house you'll be put in?" she asked.
"Of course, you can't really know, but I think I'll be in either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw," Hermione said.
"I think I'll be in Hufflepuff," said Neville, looking a little disappointed.
"Neville, do you know much about the houses? Or how they decide which we'll go into?" Angelica asked.
"Gran's told me that the Sorting puts everyone in the exact right place, but hasn't said much about it, other than that. As for the houses, there's Gryffindor, for the brave people. That's where my parents were. There's Ravenclaw, which is about being really smart. There's Hufflepuff for the, um hardworking. And Slytherin," Neville told them.
"What about Slytherin?" Angelica asked.
"It's turned out more Dark wizards than any other house. Almost every bad witch or wizard has been in Slytherin," Hermione said darkly.
"What if you're more than one house?" Angelica wondered aloud. The other two looked at her strangely, so she explained. "Like, what if you're smart and hardworking? How do they decide?"
"I don't know, but a lot of the houses have conflicting traits," Hermione told her. "Like Slytherins are supposed to use any means to get what they want, while Gryffindors are chivalrous and Hufflepuffs are loyal."
"And Ravenclaws are smart and Hufflepuffs are dunderheads," Neville said sadly.
Hermione looked startled. "I'd never heard that before!"
"It's not exactly in the letter or in books, but everyone sees it as the stupid house," he said. "Everyone wants to be in Gryffindor. Dumbledore was in Gryffindor! They have the best Quidditch team and half of the players in the league are from Gryffindor."
"Do you play quidditch?" Angelica asked Neville; Professor McGonagall had told her a lot about it when she gave Angelica her letter.
"I've never been on a broom. Gran's worried I'll break my neck," Neville told them.
"Well, I've heard it can be very dangerous," Hermione said.
Neville slipped his hands inside his pockets and suddenly let out a gasp.
"What is it?" Angelica asked.
"My toad! He's gone again!" Neville said.
"Well, he can't have gone far! We'll help you find him," Hermione said.
They walked up and down the corridors of the train asking after the toad, receiving a fair bit of snickers from people who, evidently thought that if you had the good luck to lose a toad, they should be quite happy to let it stay lost. Neville was not happy to have lost it.
"My great uncle bought Trevor for me when I got my Hogwarts letter," he told them sadly.
"I'm sure he'll turn up," Hermione said reassuringly.
"Are you sure you brought him onto the train?" Angelica asked after nearly an hour of looking.
"Gran passed him to me through the window," Neville said. "Do you guys want to head back to the compartment? It's getting pretty near lunch, anyways."
"Alright. There's always the chance he's still in the compartment and we haven't noticed," said Hermione.
They walked back down the corridor just in time to see an older woman pushing a trolley piled high with brightly coloured sweets.
Hermione turned to Neville, "It's all wizard's sweets. What's good?"
"Cauldron Cakes are good and you'll want a few Chocolate Frogs and Licorice Wands. I'd stay away from Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans," he advised.
The three bought a small pile of food to split between them and dumped it all on the seat beside Paquita, who had been napping during the search for Trevor. Hermione loved the Chocolate Frogs, or rather what came with them, "They have famous wizard cards! I got Hengist of Woodcroft!"
"My cousins used to collect them," Neville said "What does the back say?"
"Born in 982 A.D., the medieval Hufflepuff is best known today for founding Hogsmeade, the only entirely wizard village in the world, after being chased from his home by muggle prosecutors," Hermione read.
"Isn't Hogsmeade near Hogwarts?" Angelica asked.
Before Hermione could answer, Neville started talking, "It's right outside the grounds. In our third year, we'll be able to go there, to visit the shops and stuff," he said.
"What kinds of shops do they have? Is it like Diagon Alley?" Hermione asked, sending Neville into a detailed explanation of the sweet shop.
The bright sky and farmland dotted with villages had traded itself for darkness, rain and forest. The lights inside their compartment had flicked to life at some point and now shone brightly overhead. They changed into their Hogwarts robes and left to do one final sweep of the train for Trevor. When they met back up at the compartment, finding their search to be unsuccessful, the train had begun to slow.
"Maybe someone will find him when they take all the luggage off the train," Angelica suggested.
"Maybe," Neville replied halfheartedly.
They stepped onto the dark platform a few minutes later to find a massive man calling the first years towards him. Hermione looked over her shoulder to make sure Angelica and Neville were following as she pushed through the crowd of older students heading towards the dirt road.
When Angelica had at last jmanaged to join the growing group of first years, Hermione turned to her and Neville and whispered, "That boy with the glasses? He's Harry Potter. I met him earlier on the train."
"Harry Potter?" Neville said excitedly, craning his neck to see the boy.
Angelica didn't know who Harry Potter was, but the tone of Hermione's voice made him sound very important, so she followed Neville's example and looked towards the boy. Meanwhile, the massive man had counted the first years and decided that they were all in the correct spot.
"Follow me!" he called as he lead them down a narrow path of stone stairs.
The cold rain splashed against Angelica's face and hands but she didn't feel cold despite the chill in the air. Her thoughts were focused on the Sorting. What would she have to do? Where would she be put? What if she was put in Slytherin? The stairs ended and led to a long dock with small boats illuminated by glowing lanterns.
"Four to a boat!" the giant called to the first years.
Neville, Hermione and Angelica piled into a boat, followed by a boy who introduced himself as Justin Finch-Fletchley. Once they were all settled into the boat, it slid away from the dock, sliding across the lake like it was glass. The rain had started to let up and a faint mist was circling the lake, making it have an unearthly quality to it.
"Heads down!" the giant man called; he was the only one in his boat and filled the entire thing.
They passed under a curtain of ivy and Angelica caught her breath at the sight of the magnificent castle. The spires and towers rose impossibly high into the night sky, each window aglow with what looked like candlelight, the stars were visible through the clouds above the castle. Angelica smiled as a warmth she couldn't explain filled her chest, so different from the heat of panic that had flooded her body moments earlier. She startled a little as the boat brushed against the dock near the castle; in her wonder, she had been staring straight up at the castle and hadn't noticed the closeness of the dock. They clambered out of the boat and followed the giant up yet more stairs to a massive set of oak doors. They swung open immediately after his knock, revealing Professor McGonagall.
"Thank you, Hagrid," she said to the giant, before turning to the huddled first years "Follow me."
She led them through the doors and into the possibly the biggest room Angelica had ever seen, and she had been in some of the world's biggest theatres. There was a beautiful arching staircase stretching up and out of sight and thousands of portraits lined the walls, each one of them moving, waving to the first years. Candles floated overhead, bathing the hall in golden light. Across from where the first years were standing was an ornately decorated set of doors, propped open to let the chatter from the rest of the students spill out. Professor McGonagall led them to a smaller room off the side of the massive chamber.
"In a few moments, you will be Sorted into one of the four houses, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. While you are at Hogwarts, your house will be something like your family, so do your best to smarten yourselves up before you join the rest of the school," the professor said sharply, her eyes catching on the ruffled appearances of several of the students in front of her. She walked out of the room, her shoes clicking on the stone floor under her robes. The boy who Hermione had said was Harry Potter tried nervously to flatten his unruly hair as the boy next to him rubbed a spot of dirt on his nose.
"I wonder what the Sorting will be," Angelica said nervously to Hermione.
Hermione pulled her wand out of the pocket of her robes and began spinning it anxiously in her hands. "I think it'll probably involve some sort of test. I'm so glad I've memorised the textbooks. Have you done any practising at home?"
"No," Angelica said, now wishing she had opened her books instead of piling as far into the back of her closet as possible.
"Well, you'll be fine. But what can it be? Some sort of aptitude test? Or more of a personality test?" Hermione said this very quickly. Other people were now shooting her looks that suggested they thought her nervousness would infect them as well.
Before long, McGonagall had returned and led them in a single file line down the middle of the Great Hall. Angelica looked up at the candles floating above her head and saw, instead of the ceiling, the night sky. It was lit with stars seemed to exactly match the sky outside. Was there even a ceiling there?
"It's enchanted to look like they sky outside," Hermione whispered before Angelica could wonder to much. "I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
They stopped walking when Professor McGonagall reached the dais before the head table where the teachers were seated. She placed a stool on the dais. Then she pulled the oldest and most battered lump of fabric Angelica had ever seen and set it on top of the stool. After a moment she realized it was a pointed wizard's hat. The chatter from the older students at the four long table that ran the length of the hall ceased almost the moment the haat was placed on the stool.
"Do we have to pull a rabbit out of it or something?" Angelica whispered to Hermione, who was now almost quivering with excitement.
Suddenly, the rip near the edge of the hat opened, resembling a crooked mouth. The hat began singing, telling the first years about the four different houses. As it went on, Angelica couldn't help but think that Slytherin did sound like the evil house. Cunning folk who use any means to achieve their ends did not sound especially good next to the brave of heart and kind.
When the hat stopped talking and the students' clapping ceased, Professor McGonagall unrolled a sheet of parchment. "When I call your name, you will come forward, place the hat on your head and be Sorted into your house," she told them.
Professor McGonagall started down the list of first years, the hat sorting them into houses, which let out cheers when new students walked over to their tables. By the time Hermione eagerly hurried forward and stuffed the hat on her head, Angelica was terribly nervous. That hat sat on Hermione's head for nearly five minutes before it finally announced she was a Gryffindor. When it was Neville's turn, he hurried forward, tripping a little bit before sitting red-faced on the stool. The hat was on his head for almost as long before also announcing Gryffindor. Angelica began wishing and wishing to be in Gryffindor, the good things she had heard about the house flashing through her head as the list shortened. When Harry Potter's name was called, every single head turned to stare at him, everyone whispering, confirming that it was actually Harry Potter who was being sorted. Angelica was at the front of the small group of first years waiting to be sorted and saw him whispering something to the hat, only his mouth and the tip of his nose visible under the wide brim. The hat considered for a moment before announcing that Harry was also a Gryffindor.
"Putters, Angelica," Professor McGonagall called.
Angelica stepped forward, her stomach dancing a grande allegro as she sat on the stool. She caught a glimpse of the other students ogling at her before the hat slipped over her head.
Please be in Gryffindor, Angelica thought, clutching the edges of the stool as though she was about to receive a sharp push.
Gryffindor, eh?, a voice in her ear said. Certainly courage here, but not the typical Gryffindor type.
Angelica could hear a bit of chatter from older students anxious to get on with their dinner.
Clever and very hardworking. And a dancer, are we? The voice continued, ringing a little throughout her head. Well, this is most unusual, isn't it?
What is? Angelica asked the hat.
Nothing for you to concern yourself with. What you should be thinking about is how you're in SLYTHERIN! the hat screamed the last word to the hall.
Angelica pushed the brim of the hat off her head and handed it to Professor McGonagall. She felt her heart pounding in her chest. Her head was blank. She caught Hermione's terrified expression across the hall. Angelica thought she might throw up. She forced her feet to work as she crossed the hall to the cheering table. It was the farthest table from the Gryffindors.
A/N: Guys, I had An Idea. Yes, a capitalized Idea. That Idea was this plot that I devised while writing my brother's French homework for him (don't help someone cheat unless you get paid, kids) and listening to Billie Eilish. So it's kind of an oofer. Also, super slow burn. Probably won't be able to update until May, but I'll try my best. Please comment with tips/critiques/reasons why I should spell check after writing most of this at three in the morning. Thanks!