Title: In Which Jacqueline Spinnet Completes Her First Year at Hogwarts School or Witchcraft and Wizardry
Chapter Title: In Which Many Interesting Acquaintances are Made
Author: Rancid Melody
Rating: PG, eventually PG-13
Summary: Jacqueline Spinnet is a pureblood witch with impeccable social grace – for an eleven-year-old, that is. However, no one is ever prepared for the adventures Hogwarts invariably brings! Join her with her new comrades on a journey involving secrets they weren't supposed to know, magic they weren't supposed to learn, and a Dark Wizard who wasn't supposed to rise to power.
Characters: (In order of Appearance)
Jacqueline Spinnet, Lily Evans,James Potter,Sirius Black, Marlene (Chloe, Jocelyn) Jones, Emmeline Vance, Remus Lupin, Rubeus Hagrid, Narcissa Black, Minerva McGonagall, Whatever-his-name-is Flitwick, The Sorting Hat, Ingrid Anzalone, Bellatrix Black, Antonin Dolohov, Sarah Drennon,Faulkner, Sarah, Ulric Jugson, Frank Longbottom, Anderson Macnair, Phillip McKinnon, Oliver Mulciber, Gabrielle Nott, Peter Pettigrew, Fabian Prewett, Gideon Prewett, Marianne Richelieu, Severus Snape, Alice Velecroix, Sarah Zeller, Albus Dumbledore

"Antigone, if you do not be quiet, these poor muggles are going to think you're rabid," I whispered to my pet, poking a finger through the bars of her cage, to stroke her soft brown and white chest feathers.

The Madagascar Hawk Owl hooted again, but this time more softly, thankfully, and not so frantically. She leaned down to nip at my finger affectionately before turning her head sideways and closing her black eyes.

I smiled at my new pet contentedly, and then jerked back to life when I realized my trunk was sliding off of my trolley. I managed to save it before it was completely off-balance, and increased my pace down the platforms: 7, 8, 9 -- there we go. Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters ought to be around here somewhere...

"Pardon me, are you looking for-" I turned sharply, and then raised my eyebrows amusedly at the flushed redhead. "I'm sorry, but your owl --"

"Nine-and-Three-Quarters, I know," I grinned.

"What a horrible thing to do to a body! Three-Quarters, really!" she shook her head, and then blushed again, looking at her feet. "Sorry..."

I shrugged, still smiling, "The platform barrier is basically... well, not there. I'd call it 'semi-permeable.' I don't think muggles can accidentally walk through it, but if they intend to..."

"It looks rather solid to me," the girl said reluctantly, "So -- you're saying that you just... walk through?"

"That's what I was told, and my father went to Hogwarts. Mum went to Beauxbatons."

"Boe-whatsit? What on earth is that?"

I made a face, "French. My mother lived in Provence for most of her unmarried life. I know a bit of French, but English is enough grammar for me, thanks."

The redhead grinned, and then blinked, "Oh, dear, my manners -- Mother would disown me! -- I'm Lily Evans."

With a name like that, she was undoubtedly muggleborn. "Jacqueline Spinnet. Jackie, if you please."

Lily nodded, still smiling, but her eyes were resting doubtfully on the platform. "I'll go through first, if you're frightened, but we had better hurry -- the train will be leaving soon, and we don't want to be late --"

Lily's eyes widened, and she hastily said, "If you'll go first, then?"

I smiled reassuringly at her, and didn't let last-minute nerves affect my collected expression as I wheeled my trolley towards the barrier. Though quite accustomed to magic -- I'm of quite pure blood, though foreign -- I was impressed at how smoothly I passed through -- no resistance whatsoever.

Lily followed me after I steered away from the entrance. Her face was flushed with excitement: "Did you see that? It was like the barrier wasn't even-"

It had obviously not occurred to my new acquaintance that others would be passing through, and the trolley following bowled her over like a train -- pardon the pun, my nerves were frazzled.

"Watch it!" I scolded needlessly -- the boy had stopped, but he shoved Lily roughly to the side, and pulled her spilled trolley away also, which made a terrible sound as it scraped the worn brick of the platform.

A second boy, this one with ebony hair to the first's dark brown, passed through as soon as the way was clear -- luckily, his predecessor had quick reflexes. "Whoa, James! What'd you do?" he gawked, pulling his trolley to park next to mine.

"This-" he paused to amend his thoughts, "-girl was standing in the middle of the-"

Sensing social tension, I stepped in to clarify. "Lily was in front of the barrier, and your friend came through, and accidentally knocked her over. No harm done." I looked at Lily, then at her trolley, hoping to confirm my statement. "Oh, dear."

I rushed to help Lily stuff her clothing -- of all sorts, mind you -- back into her trunk. The girl was positively scarlet, and trembling embarrassedly.

The first boy -- James, recalling what his friend had called him -- halfheartedly grabbed some robes that had skidded across the platform, looking a bit embarrassed as well. I sighed as I latched the trunk for Lily -- she looked close to tears, and I wasn't sure she could handle it herself.

"Sorry about that," the boy said roughly, shooting a glare at his snickering friend. "Um, I'm James Potter."

Not exactly an appropriate time for introductions. At her silence, I nudged Lily, who muttered something that sounded vaguely like "Lily Evans."

"And I'm Jackie Spinnet. You're a first year, as well?"

"Yeah," he nodded, his messy hair moving with him, which I found slightly amusing, "Sirius is too."

"Sirius Black?" I guessed -- I'd heard the name, of course. The 'rebel' of the Black family. Father said he'd come around, eventually. According to him, all dark wizards were the same.

The boy nodded, still grinning wickedly at James, who continued to scowl at him. He didn't seem very evil to me... obnoxious, perhaps, but not evil.

"D'you know of any other people in our year?" I tried to make conversation as I helped Lily pull her trunk back onto her righted trolley.

"Not many... one of Sirius's cousins, maybe..." he looked to his friend.

"Two," the black-haired boy said, wrinkling his nose, "Narcissa and Bellatrix. They're twins – not quite identical, thankfully."

"Not really," James speculated, "Narcissa is quite a bit prettier than Bellatrix.."

"Bellatrix wears too much eye-makeup," Sirius grinned, "But they looked near identical until Bellatrix started dying her hair..."

The train's horn sounded impatiently. "See you on the train, maybe, or at school," I said as Lily and I hurried to stuff out trunks into one of the luggage compartments, and then went to find seats.

When one is near late for a train, one must not expect good seats. However, we managed to find a seat with only two girls already occupying it: a blonde and a brunette. "Hullo," the blonde said merrily, "I'm Jocelyn Jones."

"No, it's Chloe: you were Jocelyn last week," the brunette corrected dryly.

"Oh, my -- you're right!" Chloe shook her head, "Sorry... Chloe Jones, then. Hey, that sounds quite nice…"

Lily and I exchanged quick glances, but managed not to crack a smile.

"And I'm Emmeline Vance," the brunette smiled primly.

"A pleasure," Lily said politely, "I'm Lily Evans, and this is Jackie Spinnet. Are you first years?"

"Lucky us," Chloe said with a frown, "What with James and Sirius in our year, it'll be nightmares unending."

I grinned lopsidedly at her overdramatization of the situation. "So, mind if we sit?"

"Not at all," Emmeline said pleasantly.

Lily and I situated ourselves opposite the two girls, who had their luggage piled beside them.

The train suddenly gave a lurch, and I was nearly flung from my seat. Lily slid onto the floor of the compartment, and the glass door slid open. A wanderer between compartments collided with the doorframe loudly, the four of us winced simultaneously, and I stood once I'd figured my balance. "Are you okay?" I asked weakly, managing, with no small amount of effort, not to smile at his painful predicament.

The boy looked up through his mussed cinnamon-colored hair with tired amber eyes, "I'll live," he said dryly. I held out a hand, and he struggled to his feet. "Is there any room in here for an extra passenger?"

I looked around. "We can squeeze you in."

"Thanks," he looked relieved. "I'm Remus Lupin."

As the others introduced themselves, I moved things. Being a knowledgeable eleven-year-old, I was aware of the discomfort sitting in a compartment full of girls would bring for our 'new friend,' and tried to adjust the setting. In the end, Lily, Chloe, and Emmeline were on one side of the compartment, and Remus and I were separated by all five of our carry-on bags on the other bench.

"And you are?" Remus interrupted my surveying of my handiwork.

"Wha? Oh, I'm Jackie," I blinked, "Spinnet. You can sit there." I pointed.

"Thanks," he said again, and flopped wearily onto the seat.

The arrival of a boy had made the atmosphere much tenser, and the compartment was awkwardly silent. "So," I said weakly, "Any speculations on how the sorting's going to go?"

Chloe pounced, "I just hope I'm not in Hufflepuff!"

"Or Slytherin," Emmeline added, "Which leaves Ravenclaw and Gryffindor -- a 50-percent chance of getting a tolerable house, then."

"How do you find out what house you're in?" Lily asked, looking confused.

"I dunno," Chloe shrugged, "Maybe you have to take a test."

"But -- I didn't study anything!" Lily exclaimed, looking mortified.

"They didn't tell us to," I reminded her, "So obviously we weren't expected to."

"Well, anyhow," Emmeline said, "I want to be in Gryffindor -- they always have the best Quidditch Team."

"Quidditch?" Lily asked, but I seemed to be the only one who heard her, as Chloe was talking as well.

"I hope I'm not in Ravenclaw, either -- my sister, Hestia, is in there, and I do not want to see her any more often than I have to."

"How old is your sister?" I asked politely.

"Third Year," Chloe replied. "She's always talking about how cool Hogwarts is; I hope she wasn't making it up."

"Why would she?" Emmeline said absently.

Chloe paused thoughtfully, "I don't know..."

I shook my head, bemused. "What house do you want to be in, Remus?" I asked our silent compartment-dweller.

"I don't particularly mind," he said after a moment's thought, "They all have their good qualities."

Emmeline gave him a speculative squint. "Definitely Hufflepuff for you, then."

I rolled my eyes, grinning, "You're not the one who gets to make that decision, Emmeline," I pointed out.

She shrugged, "I am simply making a prediction!"

We were interrupted by a pudgy lady with a food cart pulling the door open, "Anything to eat, dearies?" she asked sweetly.

While I explained the properties of each wizarding sweet to Lily, Chloe and Emmeline together bought a great deal of candy, and Remus purchased two Chocolate Frogs. In the end, Lily decided to be miserly and buy one of each thing that looked good, while I bought some of everything that had chocolate in it -- my sweet tooth is a bit picky.

"How much longer 'til we get to Hogwarts, ma'am?" Lily asked after we had handed over a fair amount of money.

"Oh, I'd say an hour and a half, maybe two," the squat woman replied, before closing the door and moving on.

There was a short silence after the thud of the door closing.

"Time to change clothes!" Chloe sang, and the four of us simultaneously turned to watch Remus, who suddenly began to redden.

"No worries, buddy, you're not staying," Emmeline flung the door open and practically pushed the poor boy out the door. "Go change in the loos, or something."

Chloe pulled the curtains over the glass closed, and the four of us changed into out Official Hogwarts Uniforms. I must say, I felt rather smart with my coarse black hair back in a makeshift bun, and my pristine robes embroidered with the Hogwarts logo. I fixed my shirt, "Was I correct in assuming that we'll receive our ties after we're sorted?" I asked quickly.

"That's what Hestia told me; I'm still not sure if I trust her, though," Chloe said, rather darkly.

I nodded, butterflies temporarily sedated. "Hey, Jackie, would you go tell Remus he can come back now?" Emmeline suggested, and I shrugged, then nodded again, sliding out the door and focusing on balance as I walked carefully down the narrow, cheaply carpeted aisle.

I was headed to check outside the loos, but I passed a compartment with open curtains, and spotted Remus within, along with the two boys Lily and I had met on the platform: James Potter and Sirius Black.

I turned to go back to my own compartment and report the loss of our last member, but Sirius saw me first, and opened the door. "Hi there, Jackie," he said amicably, "Wandering, are we?"

"I was just looking for Remus," I nodded to the thin boy, "To tell him that he could come back to the compartment." I addressed the person in question, "Of course, you're welcome to stay in here, as it seems less crowded-"

"I think I will, thanks," Remus said quickly, smiling halfheartedly. "I've already got my bag."

I smiled in return and, after a mumbled farewell, made a hasty retreat.

"The Hogwarts Express will reach your Destination in Approximately Twenty-Five Minutes," a smooth feminine voice emerged from the speakers intermittently placed, as I trod down the hall.

"Did you hear that?" Chloe was shrieking when I re-entered the compartment, "Twenty-five minutes! We're almost theeeere!"

Lily and I exchanged glanced, and then simultaneously grinned.

Of course, by the time the train screeched to a halt, even I was nearing hyperventilation-mode. "In an hour or so, we'll be being sorted..." I whispered anxiously to Lily, who seemed to be trembling.

We were not the only excited first-years. Chloe and Emmeline joined the crowd of eleven-year-olds who were pushing older students -- some of whom looked amused, others frightened -- out of their way as the raced for one of the exits. Lily and I stayed back, rather perturbed by the display of Children Gone Wild.

"Firs' Years! Firs' Years over 'ere!" A rough voice called, and my eyes widened as they located the source: A mountainous figure with a ruddy face and a thick, rugged beard, with beetle-black eyes peering down at the gaggle of students that had reluctantly approached him.

Eventually, the older students had cleared away, around a corner, and only the first years were left, with the gigantic man smiling in what I had to admit was a kind manner. "Arright, now, four t' a boat. Don' worry, there's enough for all of ye!"

Lily and I looked for Chloe and Emmeline, but when we saw them, they were already in a boat, looking rather sullen as they sat across from Sirius Black and James Potter. I waved and smiled when they saw me, and all four immediately made faces at us, as if they had planned to do so beforehand.

I raised my eyebrows and half-grinned, but the large man hurried me into one of the last boats, already occupied by Lily, Remus, and a quiet, unhappy-looking blonde girl I didn't know.

"Hi, I'm Jackie Spinnet," I smiled.

"Narcissa Black," The girl said, with a look that said she did not want to be seen talking to anyone on this boat. I blinked, and then exchanged glances with Lily. I saw Remus scoot subtly away from her, and shot him a grin layered with mirth. He flushed.

The ride was rather quiet after that, as I hardly wanted to fall under Narcissa's haughty gaze again.

When we rounded a corner in the lake and got our first view of Hogwarts, I could not help but murmur, "Wow."

"No kidding," Lily breathed, a grin swelling on her thin face.

"It's really..." I couldn't find a word, "...big."

I heard Remus snort from behind me, and shot him a silencing glare. He raised his hands in surrender, and I relented, grinning.

Our boat slid to a halt at a dock at the edgy of the inky water. I was closest to the exit, and so carefully stepped out first, and was followed by Lily, then Narcissa, then Remus.

"Lily! Jackie! Over here!" Chloe beckoned. My carrot-locked friend and I trotted over to she and Emmeline, who were standing beside the large guide. "This guy is Hagrid. He's the groundskeeper."

"Keeper o' the Keys an' Grounds a' Hogwarts," 'Hagrid' corrected roughly, but he didn't appear angry… actually, it was rather hard to tell, as most of his face was covered with that course facial hair…

Once everyone had directed their attention to Hagrid, he led us up to the grand entrance door to Hogwarts Castle and knocked three times: each knock solid and thunderous, shaking the door, which was a monstrosity of size, itself.

It seemed to open by itself; truly, there was no other means by which to small, but stern-looking woman who stepped around it could have opened it. She peered at the group of us from behind sharply angular spectacles, and I found myself discomfited. "Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," The voice that emerged from her thin lips was pointy and articulate, despite the hint of Scottish accent. As Hagrid ambled off, she addressed those remaining: "Follow me, please. Keep up: I shall not be inclined to come looking for you."

With that, she turned, and even her heels sounded uncomfortably sharp as they clicked down the stone hall. I knew my eyes were twice their usual size, but did not attempt to compose myself; I wanted to see everything, despite knowledge that I would be seeing these halls many times throughout the next seven years of my life. It was also a comfort to know that my expression was identical to that worn on my new year-mates' faces; even Narcissa Malfoy looked impressed, from where she stood in the back, next to a smoky-eyed brunette whom I guessed might be the Bellatrix Black that Sirius had referred to.

The stone was a lovely silvery-blue that was unmarred by the time it had withstood. Even black shadows, where the warm, overbright torchlight did not reach, seemed welcoming, and I felt my nerves ease, and then return tenfold, and I felt my shoulders stiffen. I bit my tongue, pressing my lips together anxiously. The pointy woman led us down the short hall after allowing us to gape for less than a moment, and I was not the only one half-trotting to keep up with her unexpectedly long stride.

Up marble-topped stairs, we went, and then onto a second floor, this one paved with a swirling, flawless cream marble. The hall was guided by a plush, wine-colored carpet with silver lining, and the interesting faces in the portraits, along with other literal masterpieces, watched us with gleeful curiosity – at least, those who weren't sleeping or absent. "Don't be nervous!" A plump, frilly old woman holding an oversized carpetbag urged us, from within a painting of a faded room that, interestingly enough, looked like had a smell of age. "You've no reason to be!" she continued to talk, but I was out of listening distance.

Our guide's hair – what was not hidden beneath a black, conventional witch's hat – was a dark black, broken occasionally by a dark grey lock promising a salt-and-pepper-hue in the near future. I boldly wondered at her age, but immediately reprimanded myself. I knew better than to think such things, for thought could often emerge unbidden into speech, and one who was forced to sit through Mother's teas as often as I was forced to master social graces early.

Looking back on those years, I am always amused at my pride in my breeding. I had been brought up to take pride in my pure blood, but also to know that purer blood did not make a body a better witch or wizard, or even a better person. My father always kept very strong opinions; I spoke before of his belief that 'all dark wizards were the same,' which, when he explained it, meant that the children and close relatives of dark wizards and witches would also, eventually, follow the same path.

My mother's opinions were of a different sort: her policy was that every person, of any sort, should be treated with utmost courtesy, so that one would always be invited to important teas.

My mother and father both shared the opinion, however, that pure blood did not make one better than one with muggle blood. I had not come into contact with purists until this opinion had been drilled into me so strongly that I had adopted it as my own, and so I had never had conflicting thoughts on this matter. However, I know now that I had not gone about harboring this opinion the right way.

I had felt, early in my life, that my pure blood obligated me to treat muggles like I would small children: 'those poor, oblivious little dears.' Muggle-born witches and wizards of my age registered a similar reaction, simply because they didn't act like wizards. Rather silly of me, I know, and I regard some of the things I had thought of my muggle-born classmates with utmost distaste and much humiliation. I can only comfort myself by saying that I knew no better, though I recognize that that is hardly and excuse.

But such reflections did not occur when 'then' was 'now.'

The woman had turned from where she stood in front of another grand door. This one was not so large, but its elaborate carving far surpassed the first, and the wood was a deep chestnut, almost orange. Gold, or perhaps some other metal, shone from where it was embedded in the design. Someone had been polishing: everything gleamed like new, or better.

The woman cleared her throat, and the chatter I had not heard before ceased reluctantly. I eyed the pristine emerald robes beneath the pressed black cloak; pointed black boots peeked from beneath the exacted hem, and were freshly polished. My eyes quickly flicked back to her face as her stern gaze swept across us, passing over me dismissingly as she eyed Lily, and then passed several other faces to settle on Remus, who stood in between James and a stout, fair-haired boy with a pointed nose on a round face and an anxious, flushed look. She nodded briefly, and he fidgeted, looking distinctly ill at ease. Her dark, sharp eyes then eyes James, and then Sirius – and her gaze turned slightly suspicious. I did not blame her: Sirius's impish grin promised trouble.

"I am Professor McGonagall," her voice was still sharp and articulate, but it was a pleasant sound, when the Scottish accent was accompanied by clicking consonants, "Deputy Headmistress, and Head of Gryffindor House. Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Some of you are likely unaware of why you have been separated from the older students – it has become a tradition of Hogwarts graduates to withhold the methods by which you will be sorted into houses."

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw many wry smiles – indeed, it was a bemusing truth – but McGonagall's lips did not so much as twist, and the few chuckles that had emerged from the group wafted through the air; then I felt the stillness and nerves almost made me nauseous. My head was slightly fuzzy, and ached a bit, but I knew the symptoms of severe nervousness, and was not too worried – if they continued after the call for anxiousness had passed, I would know how to diagnose myself for the nurse. Besides, it would likely be advantageous to find out where the nurse's wing, quarters, etc. were located early on, in case of a more serious need of medical attention.

"Those of you who did not know of Hogwarts' structure before arriving at the Platform have probably been informed by your classmates, but in case any of you have missed the information, I will explain immediate necessities. Upon arrival in the Great Hall, you will be Sorted," the way she spoke required capitalization, "into one of four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. As for any rumors you have heard of any house being 'better' than another," she said this with obvious distaste, though she had a face that did not look as if it wore many expressions, nor did it seem to project them well, but her pursed lips during the short pause after the word 'better' spoke of her opinion, as did the color of her voice. "I assure you these are quite false."

There was a bit of fidgeting at these words, and I noticed accusing glances, sheepish shrugs, and several doubtful raisings of eyebrows. However, no one had the audacity to so much as whisper – even a group of children who looked, to me, like they could-- and normally would – be rather boisterous, were shaken by her direct and stern gaze, which seemed to rest on each one of us, daring us to open our mouths.

"I leave you knowing that you will not be disruptive. If any of you speak above a murmur, or move from this place, I will know. Sir Madison will be reporting any disruptions." McGonagall nodded to the unhappy, frumpy-looking man in frilly trappings, who blinked, then returned the gesture quickly. The portrait-dweller's small, watery grey eyes were sharp beneath scraggly white eyebrows.

I felt stiff in my effort to be completely silent excepting my whisper, which joined the others' as Professor McGonagall glided past us, shooting a warning glare in the general direction of Sirius Black as she passed, then turned into an intersecting corridor. "Well, that was interesting," I said passively, unsure of what the impression McGonagall had left could be labeled as, only certain that it was a strong one.

"Yeah…" Lily agreed slowly. "She certainly didn't make me any less nervous…"

I nodded, not letting my nerves venture past my loudly thumping heart. Lily, however, wore her cornucopia of emotions on her sleeve, or rather, her face. At the moment, I could recognize fear, excitement, dread, and weariness in her disarmingly green eyes. "Don't worry," I felt obligated to comfort her, hoping to earn her long-term friendship, "what could go wrong?"

She looked even more sickened by this, "What if I'm not really a witch, though?" she whispered hollowly, "What if they try to sort me, then say, 'I'm sorry, Miss Evans, there must be some mistake…'" she trailed off, eyes betraying that this was not a new fear.

"That's impossible," I said, my slightly relieved scorn bleeding into my voice – oops. At Lily's flush, I quickly continued, "Sorry. But it isn't possible." Lily looked dubious. "No, think about it. Hogwarts looks like a deserted house to those without magic. If a muggle comes near it, they'll suddenly think of something very important that they need to do immediately. Father told me about it." I'd quizzed my father on Hogwarts and its mysteries many times. He never told me about the Sorting, or anything concerning Hogwarts tradition, but general information had never been repressed. "You can see the castle. You're a witch."

Lily's doubt was not completely banished, and I had not expected it to be, but she looked calmer, and her dramatically frightened expression had softened smoothly. "That's rather comforting, even if…" she was not sure if she could believe my story, but I did not hold it against her. Nerves had a tendency to restrict one's capacity for logic.

The silence that fell when the door began to open was not so dense as that that McGonagall had inspired – more excited, but doubly suffocating. I managed a deep breath to prevent hyperventilation, but my lungs deflated in surprise when I saw who had opened the door.

It was a midget.

I nearly gasped aloud in my horror, and hastened to correct myself – a dwarf, Jackie. Dwarf, not midget. "Hello!" His voice was the squeak I'd expected, but was a quite cheerful sound, and I was not the only one to smile. My shoulders slumped as my nerves were eased, but his, "Well, come on, then!" reminded me of the occasion, and Lily and I exchanged worried glances before obediently falling into single file – I was given the distinct impression of ducklings.

Any thought of infantile waterfowl was banished from my mind, however, when I entered the Great Hall, which certainly lived up to its title.

An enormous room, its walls an amalgamation of gold, mahogany, and white, its floors the same flawless marble I had seen before. Four enormous tables, and a sea of students – each face focused on my peers and myself. Candles hovered jubilantly over the heads of many, but the light was far too brilliant to have come from there alone. A carpet of gold divided the room, and as my eyes followed the path it proscribed I came to another table, at the center of which sat a face I recognized, though had never seen outside of a chocolate frog card: Albus Dumbledore.

I looked to Lily, intending to point this out to her, but her eyes were elsewhere: upwards. My gaze flicked upwards instinctively, and then remained there. The stars twinkled merrily at me, and the sickle moon was yellow with the season.

It was enchanted; I remembered now. "Brilliant," I murmured.

Professor McGonagall had returned from her excursion, bearing a short stool and a tattered, patched hat. I looked at it distastefully: why would they keep something like that around? It looked like it needed to have been thrown out ages ago.

At least, I thought this until the most obvious tear, at the base, stretched open, and a voice emerged.

"When Founders Four
Opened the door
To this academy,
They certainly
Could not perceive
What it would come to be.

Brave Gryffindor,
Who bore the sword
Against foes great and small,
And Ravenclaw,
Who'd put her mind
To anything at all.

Fair Hufflepuff,
Who kept them strong
With her enormous heart,
And Slytherin,
Who made them wise,
He saw it as an art.

So welcome, friends,
Your mind depends
On those who long have passed,
But they've left me,
To oversee
These wonders that will last!"

The Hall erupted into applause. I was not the only first year, though, who could not close her mouth. When I finally did, I whispered to Lily, "This must be some sort of tradition, then."

She did not answer, however, for Professor McGonagall unrolled a large sheet of parchment, cleared her throat to silence the scattered whispers, and read, "Anzalone, Ingrid!"

A tall, tawny-haired girl with fair skin and a spattering of freckles stepped forward, and, upon McGonagall's gesture, stepped to the stool, sat on it, and placed the 'Sorting Hat' on her head.

A moment later, the same rip which had previously served as a mouth stretched to proclaim: "RAVENCLAW!" in an extravagant bellow.

Cheers erupted from a table draped in brilliant blue cloth, and when they had died down, McGonagall received the attention again. "Black, Bellatrix!"

The slim, dark-eyed girl I'd seen before slunk up to the chair to place the hat smoothly on her head. I had barely taken a breath before "SLYTHERIN!" echoed through the hall.

"Black, Narcissa!" McGonagall reclaimed focus.

"SLYTHERIN!" And Narcissa joined her cousin at the emerald-swathed table.

As if we hadn't guessed. At "Black, Sirius," one might wonder if the hat need even be consulted, but the dark-haired boy was not sent to his appropriate table straightaway. If it is possible for an item of clothing to be so personified, the hat looked rather curious. It then hesitated, before announcing, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Those who knew no better began to clap, but halted abruptly, looking confused by the shocked silence that froze the purebloods. I felt my eyebrows angle upward, and some subconscious noted that I ought to write Dad, to inform him that perhaps his theory had a loophole or two.

Sirius's grin did not have its previous verve as he took a seat at a table bathed in crimson fabric – an older Gryffindor girl, who I vaguely recognized from one of Mother's teas, gave him a reproachful look and scooted away from him on the bench. He flashed her a charming smile, and she looked rather discomfited.

A light cough coming from the Head Table – Dumbledore himself, perhaps – sent McGonagall back to her task. "Dolohov, Antonin!" The dark, long-faced boy joined Ingrid Anzalone at the Ravenclaw table, and "Drennon, Sarah!" was called.

A small, plain brunette nervously crept up to the stool and quickly placed the hat on her head. She was pronounced Hufflepuff, and was the first addition to the fourth table, over which buttery yellow cloths were draped.

"Evans, Lily!"

I could hear Lily's deep breath as she stepped forward, trembling visibly. The redhead picked up the hat with unsteady hands, placed it on her head, and flopped onto the stool as if worried her legs would give out.

The hat's decision was another quick one. "GRYFFINDOR!" It proclaimed brightly. Lily's shoulders were slumped in relief, and I clapped as she joined the Gryffindor table – pointedly sitting across from Sirius in order to avoid the space beside him.

"Faulkner, Sarah!" was made a Hufflepuff, and then "Jones, Marlene!" was called. I inwardly noted that had my name been Marlene, I would have been prone to change it as well. Chloe's eyes were bright as she bounced up to the stool, and then trotted over to join Lily before "GRYFFINDOR!" had completely left the Sorting Hat's mouth.

"Jugson, Ulric!" was made Slytherin, followed by a Hufflepuff: "Longbottom, Frank!" Then another familiar face was called to the stool, "Lupin, Remus!"

The choice was almost instant. "GRYFFINDOR!" The amber-eyed boy grinned and took the place beside Sirius that Lily had avoided. Sirius patted Remus roughly on the back; the paler boy's eyes bulged with each strike. I suppressed a smile with much effort.

During that bit, "Macnair, Anderson!" had become a Slytherin, followed by "Mulciber, Oliver!" who was sorted right after "McKinnon, Phillip!" became a Ravenclaw. "Nott, Gabrielle!" was sorted into Ravenclaw as well, and then I recognized "Pettigrew, Peter!" as the small, round-faced boy who'd stood beside Remus.

Apparently, that was no accident, as little Peter soon sat beside Remus at the Gryffindor table, and two Prewetts, Fabian and Gideon, were sorted into Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw respectively.

"Potter, James!" was next, and the hat had hardly touched his head before the hat seemed to almost nod, and "GRYFFINDOR!" sent him scrambling towards the table where all of my new friends now sat, chatting merrily. Except for Lily, that is, who accompanied Chloe in watching the remainder of the sorting anxiously.

"Richelieu, Marianne!" I recognized as the daughter of one of my mother's French-turned-British friends, and I smiled encouragingly at her as she passed, and then became a Hufflepuff. After that, "Snape, Severus!" a gangly, greasy-looking boy with a hooked nose protruding from his gaunt face, was called "SLYTHERIN!"

"Spinnet, Jacqueline!"

Oh! That was me. I'd not recognized my own name, for a moment, my nerves were so strong. I tottered forward to the stool, slipping onto it neatly and placing the hat on my head. It fell over my eyes, as it had for many before me.

"Another French one?" The hat seemed to be speaking into my mind, rather than my ears, "Two in one year – how interesting. You're Hufflepuff material, I'll give you that, for your loyalty, but you would not fit there… you have too much common sense, and are brave fundamentally, but cautious in the face of danger… not one to rush headlong into a fight, eh? But there is a willingness to learn, and a magical aptititude… oh, you'll like Astronomy, it'll agree with you, but don't take Arithmancy – or Muggle Studies, but Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Ruins you'll like… and – well, I'm getting off task, we'll put you in – RAVENCLAW!"

I didn't hear the cheers. My ears rang as my eyes flew to the Gryffindor table. Chloe looked remorseful; Lily looked devastated. I took a deep breath and stood, walking the eternity to the Ravenclaw table, where I sat across from Gideon Prewett and beside Gabrielle Nott.

Emmeline joined me a moment later – somehow, I had missed her sorting. We exchanged glances, but said nothing, until "Velecroix, Alice!" and "Zeller, Sarah!" had been made Hufflepuffs.

The ancient bearded wizard at the center of the High Table – Dumbledore, certainly – stood, and his bright blue eyes shone from behind half-moon glasses. "Welcome, students, old and new! I know hunger must plague you, and so I will not waste valuable time that could be better spent eating. But, first, the school song!"

The tiny midget – oops, dwarf – wizard had found cymbals, somewhere, and he now clanged them merrily, before the entire room broke out into song. However, this song did not appear to have a decided tune, as each person I could hear had chosen something different. Dumbledore lifted his wand, and the words appeared in bubbly letters:

"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy, Warty, Hogwarts,
Teach us something, please.
For whether we be old and bald or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling with some interesting stuff,
For now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff.
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot.
Just do your best, we'll do the rest
And learn until our brains all rot…"

Everyone trailed off eventually, and, as the last voice faded, Dumbledore sat, and the tables were suddenly brimming with food of all sorts. I was not affected by the insane, ravenous stupor that had overcome my peers – my mind was too heavy for such frivolity. I turned to Emmeline, who wasn't looking especially hungry herself.

"What can we do?" she shrugged hopelessly, "Mar- Jo- wait, what was it? Oh yes, Chloe… Chloe and I had always planned to be in the same house… "

I could only copy her shrug, "It's not as if we'll never see them. Maybe we'll even have classes with the Gryffindors." Optimism was not one of my strongest traits, but I tried to cheer to gloomy girl.

Emmeline sighed like one lost, and then said, "Well, we'd better eat…"

Fortunately, once my mind was focused on the feast laid out before me, I became much more cheerful. Emmeline and I piled food high on our gold plates, filled our goblets with pumpkin juice – a favorite of mine – and stuffed ourselves as if we hadn't eaten in weeks. Normally, I would not have so disgraced myself in front of my peers, but I could hardly be embarrassed when they were doing the same thing.

After what felt like an awfully long time to spend eating, the plates began to clear themselves, sensing that their user was finished by a prolonged period of stillness. When the students began to get restless, Dumbledore stood. "You are dismissed," he said cheerily, then sat back down, apparently returning to his conversation with Professor McGonagall.

"First Years! First Year Ravenclaws! Over here, please!" Came a voice from relatively nearby. I looked around, and located the speaker: a tall blonde with round, blue eyes. The girl waited for my fellows and I to assemble, then said, "This way to the dorm. Stay close, please!"

Another older student, this one a black-haired boy, herded us from behind. "Keep up, now," he nudged Gideon Prewett.

We trudged out of the Great Hall, left down the first corridor, through double doors of heavy, dark wood and iron, and came to a four-pronged fork around a statue of a wise-looking witch with a raven on her shoulder. From there, we turned left, but not the farthest left – the second-farthest. We walked down that corridor – in which we were forced to walk single file, because it was so narrow – and came to a room with three identical paintings of the same woman who had been carved into the statue, before.

"Remember," the blonde instructed seriously, "It's the one on the left." She turned to the last painting and clearly said, "Sphinx's Wit."

The woman in the portrait smiled and nodded, and the entire frame swung off the wall, like a door. It was a passage. How fascinating!

"Inside, now," the woman urged, though her picture was against the wall, "I won't be left open all night!"

We all hurried inside, and the black-haired boy closed the portrait.

And now, a note from the Author:

Yeah, I wrote the song. It's atrocious. Oh, well. Um. Hi. Reviewing is cool. Everybody's doing it. Well, I assume everybody's doing it, but if you're not doing it, maybe I'm wrong...