Dean stood in line with the other first years, just ahead of Sam, scuffing his shoe on the stone floor and wishing he could just get this over with. Some of the other kids were talking about how you had to fight a troll or do a charm or something, but Dean couldn't see the point in getting all worried about all the possibilities. Whatever he had to do, he'd do it. He'd get into Gryffindor and make his family proud. He had to, because Sam had flat out said he didn't care where he went.

The line moved at a glacially slow pace, as kids were called up onto the stage. He couldn't hear any screaming or sounds of limbs being torn apart, so he figured it probably wasn't monsters. That was good. He glanced at Sammy behind him. Sammy shouldn't have to fight monsters.


Cas waited quietly, and as patiently as he could, and tried not to feel too alone. The other children were chattering around him, guessing at the sorting task and discussing where they wanted to be placed. He recognized a few of them from the train—including a boy toward the end of the line who had helped him wrestle his trunk into a compartment—but didn't know any of them well enough to share his own thoughts or fears. Somehow, though the sorting hadn't yet begun, Cas already felt like he wasn't where he belonged. There was no magic in his family, and his older brothers and sisters—who cared for him, and who had dropped him off at the train station—had seemed doubtful that he was doing anything that wasn't going to be a waste of time.

Of course he had read plenty about the different houses, and knew of their attributes and the great witches and wizards who had come from each. He thought—assuming he really did belong here after all, and that they didn't turn him away and tell him to go back to being the unremarkable second-youngest child in an otherwise nonmagical brood of ten–that he might belong in Ravenclaw, or maybe if he were lucky, in Gryffindor. Most of the heroes in the books had come out of Gryffindor, and Cas had always rather liked the idea of being a hero. He didn't want fame and fortune—even to his eleven-year-old self, those seemed like more trouble than they were worth—but the idea of standing up to one's ideals and doing right seemed like the best thing a person could do.


Sam stood behind his brother, his heart in his throat. The big moment was coming—the moment he'd find out, for real, where he really belonged. He didn't care that his dad had been a Gryffindor, or that (apparently) Gryffindor was the only worthy house for a Winchester. Not that Gryffindor would be bad. It just wasn't the only option. Sam was smart after all, way smarter than Dean had been at his age (Sam had just turned eleven, while Dean was slated to turn twelve in a few weeks). Maybe Ravenclaw would be the house for him. And he could be kind—even Hufflepuff wouldn't be so bad.

As long as it wasn't Slytherin. The curse the Yellow-Eyed man had put on him as a baby had made him a little more…Slytherin-like, what with his parseltongue and everything. But Sam was determined to rise above. He was going to find out where he really belonged, in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, and then he would become the best wizard he could be.


Dean, the sorting hat said.

Dean opened his eyes in the dark confines of the hat, but it didn't help and the material was scratchy on his eyelashes, so he just closed them again. "Yeah? Uh. Hi. I'm Dean," Dean thought at it.

Well…yes, the hat responded, and Dean realized belatedly that not only was it reading his thoughts, but that it had called him by his name to begin with.

You want to make your family proud, the hat noted.

Dean nodded vigorously in the hat. "Yeah. Gryffindor. Uh. Please."

You also want to take care of your brother, the hat said. It is nearly all you've thought about since you boarded the train.

"Well, he is younger than me," Dean said sensibly. "I always look out for him."

You are deeply unselfish. You care about helping others, especially your family. You would also help any other person in need. You helped another boy load his trunk because he was alone.

"Yeah," Dean said, growing impatient. The dark-haired muggle kid with the blue eyes had looked lost, and a little scared, and could barely lift his trunk at all. Of course Dean had helped him.

You are brave, but your loyalty to your family…your kindness to others…you belong best in Hufflepuff, the hat said.

"No. Please no," Dean said, trying his best to be polite while panicking inside a bit. "Gryffindor."

Very well, the hat said, though you would have made a very good Hufflepuff, you will be in GRYFFINDOR!


Cas, the hat said. What a sharp mind.

Cas's eyebrows pulled together, but he didn't dare argue. He wasn't sure what the hat was, or what it might do if he spoke or moved too quickly.

Don't worry, said the hat. I won't hurt you. I'm only looking inside. So very bright, but so very concerned about being turned away. Does anyone know how afraid you are?

"No," Cas ventured. He hadn't told his siblings about his fears, nor had he thought to share them with the other children.

You've read quite a lot about us, haven't you? the hat said. Everything you could put your hands on, from the moment your letter came. You found the way to Diagon Alley yourself…found the way to 9¾…imagined Hogwarts in more detail than most magic-born children. You would do well in Ravenclaw.

Cas nodded slightly, not sure if the hat could register nodding, and tried hard not to be disappointed that the hat didn't think him a hero. Or at least, a potential hero.

A hero, hmm? The hat said, apparently reading his mind.

"Yes," Cas admitted. "If I could, I would want to be a Gryffindor. I don't just want to be smart, and good at learning. I want to be bold. I want to change the world. I want to help people."

Well, you're certainly brave enough, the hat said. Leaving your brothers and sisters behind, all alone, for the pursuit of all this knowledge.

"I will go wherever you put me," Cas said quickly, afraid he'd angered the hat. "I have been pursuing knowledge. If you think I'd make a better Ravenclaw, I'd understand." As long as the hat didn't send him home.

I see, the hat said. I'll put you in GRYFFINDOR!


Sam, the hat said. So very ambitious.

It hadn't been quite what he was expecting, but he had a feeling he knew where the hat was going with this. "I'm not ambitious," Sam argued. "Is this because of the parseltongue thing? I didn't ask to be cursed, you know."

You'll be the best wizard you can be, the Hat echoed his earlier thoughts. You've often thought about doing better than your family. You think you can.

"Well, my dad's just a tired-out Auror," Sam pointed out. "And Dean does whatever my dad wants. I don't need to be better. Just…different. I want to live my own life."

There was a strange moment in which Sam had the creeping feeling that the hat was smiling at him from atop his head.

That is very ambitious, the Hat said.

Sam glowered.

You think you might belong in Ravenclaw…certainly, you are thirsty for knowledge, the hat said. But is it for its own sake? Or because you know that learning is how you might better yourself? Distinguish yourself from the pack? From your family?

Sam glowered harder.

You're kind, when you wish to be, the Hat said. And you love your brother. But you would leave them behind, if it meant becoming something more, wouldn't you?

"Uh huh," Sam said. "So, why am I not a Gryffindor?"

You are brave, the Hat said. And certainly bold. This is the most I've had to argue with a student since…well, it's been a long time.

"I'm not a Slytherin," Sam said stubbornly.

Are you certain? The hat said. It would be a very good fit.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Sam said.

In that case… the hat hesitated, dramatically. GRYFFINDOR!


Dean took a seat at the Gryffindor table beside the shy dark-haired boy he'd met on the train. Cas stuck out his hand and they introduced themselves.

"Guess we're both Gryffindors," Dean said, trying to ignore the feeling that he didn't really belong here—that the hat had only done what Dean had said his family wanted.

"I guess so," Cas said. He looked up and down the table, and wondered why the hat had really put him here when he was clearly lost and meek—all he had done was ask to be here. That wasn't very brave at all.

Sam took a seat beside Dean, still fuming a little. The hat wanted him in Slytherin, and if he hadn't made his case he would have ended up there. It wasn't fair, because no matter how he thought about it, the hat had answered his question—he didn't belong here.

"Hey, Sammy," Dean said. "This is Cas."

"Hi Cas."

"So you two are…brothers?" Cas said. "I have a lot of brothers. Muggles."

"Our family's all magic," Dean said. "Do you know what an Auror is?"

Soon, they were chatting and laughing about life in the magical and muggle worlds, the train, the floating candles and the night sky above, and whether there really were ghosts all over the castle like Dean thought (Nearly Headless Nick's appearance through the wall put this question to rest). By the time Dumbledore gave his opening speech and the food appeared on the plates, they were all beginning to feel a bit like maybe, just maybe, they belonged after all.