The Story of the Sorting

It was a strange situation indeed, when a group of teenagers far older than eleven were lining up to be sorted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Then again, these times were full of strange situations.

Alexander Hamilton fiddled nervously with the hem on his robe, his fingers worrying at the already threadbare fabric. They were hand-me-downs, and he wasn't fond of that, but at least he had robes.

Robes. Robes, as in, a school uniform. He'd never thought he'd wear those kind of clothes.

As an orphan he barely had enough money to make it through the day. He made it, of course, whether through begging, bartering, borrowing or, in dire need, stealing. He didn't like doing it, but when you're living on your knees you have to find some sort of way to rise up.

Alexander was very much aware that the best way to rise up would've been through education. When he was a child his mother had told him everything about Ilvermorny, the great magic school in America. As a squib she'd never been able to attend, but when Alex started showing signs of magic she gushed with pride, telling him all about the wonders she'd heard told about it.

But of course, if you can't afford your next meal, you can't afford a tuition.

Alex had learned what he could, purchasing a wand with what little money he'd scrapped together, pouring over any books he could find in trash cans, libraries, and on unguarded benches.

Now he glanced around the room, pleased to see that though most of the people around him must have an education far superior to his own, they all looked equally uncomfortable and misplaced. The few people that talked spoke in hushed voices, but the stone walls magnified their words, and their American accents echoed around the room, so at odds with the British coat of arms painted on the wall.

"I can't believe they're making us come here," said a voice. Alexander turned towards it, finding that it belonged to a tall kid with a fluffy afro and robes that certainly were not hand-me-downs. "I was just about to go back to France, too!" he drawled in a heavy southern accent. A shorter kid next to him murmured something that Alexander didn't catch, because his attention was piqued by another guy, who looked quite similar to the first boy and who'd looked up with sudden interest when France was mentioned. A sibling, maybe?

Perhaps Alexander would've spoken to him, but the first guy had caught him looking and now strode over to him, the other boy in his tow.

"You look a bit lost," he said by way of introduction. Then he stuck out his hand. "I'm Jefferson. Thomas Jefferson."

Alexander grasped his hand.

"Mister Jefferson? Alexander Hamilton."

The other boy furrowed his brows, his eyes sweeping over Alexander.

"I don't seem to recall hearing your name before. You're not from the South, are you?"

Alex shook his head. "No, New York." That was fairly true, at least.

Next to him, the other boy sneezed, and Jefferson shot him an alarmed glance. The boy waved away his concern.

"James Madison," he said as Alexander turned towards him. He sneezed again. "Pleasure to meet you."

"You too," Alex muttered.

"Anyways," Jefferson continued, clearly anxious to get the conversation back on track. "As I was just saying to James: can you believe they're making us come here? I mean, everyone knows Ilvermorny is far superior to Hogwarts. This is just another way the Brits are trying to undermine us, mark my words!"

Madison's eyes darted nervously around the hall, but no one appeared to have taken notice of Jefferson's talk.

"No—" Alexander started, but caught himself. "I mean yes, it's terrible! The only thing they do is tax us relentlessly, and they don't even give us a fair representation in the government! Honestly, I'm sure there'll be a revolution in this century!"

As he spoke he felt a warm feeling spread in his breast. He believed in the revolution, and the injustices that the colonies faced made him rage like few other things did. Yet however unjust it may be, when the Royal Decree came out, declaring that every child in Britain—on the island, or from the colonies—had to attend an education at Hogwarts … it had far surpassed his wildest imaginations. Because a mandatory education also meant that it was free, and so to hell with if it was only because the British Ministry or the King wanted to stop the colonies from rebelling. Thanks to the decree, Alexander might have just found his shot at a better life.

Jefferson, however, clearly didn't think of it that way.

"Of course there will be," he said. "I just hope it's soon enough, so we can get out of these damp halls," he looked around with a disgusted scowl. Then his eyes returned to Alexander, as if something had just crossed his mind.

"So, what was your house at Ilvermorny?"

"I was—I was home-schooled." Alexander couldn't stop the edge that crept into his voice, nor the stammer. Jefferson eyebrows flicked upwards, but before he could answer a stern-looking witch entered the hall, and everyone immediately fell silent.

"Right," she said by way of greeting. "My name is Professor McGonagall. I teach transfiguration and I am the head of the house of Gryffindor. It is very unusual for Hogwarts to welcome students from America, but we are thrilled nonetheless. Now, I'm sure everyone knows how our sorting ceremony works, so we shall proceed without further ado. Though it is a pity that the rest of the school could not be brought here to see it." She took a deep breath. "Mary Adams."

It appeared that most of the others did know what to expect, because a small girl—no more than fourteen—stumbled forward. She sat down on an old stool that Professor McGonagall gestured to, and then she placed a tattered and worn hat on the girl's head. After a moment, the hat spoke.

"Slytherin!" it bellowed, and the girl rose with a nervous smile. She moved to stand by the wall, and the witch called the next name. Then the next.
Alexander felt his stomach churn as he watched the sorting take place. He'd read up on the houses, and yet he didn't know which one he'd rather be placed in.

"Aaron Burr."

A boy who looked about his own age stepped forward. Despite appearing only sixteen he was completely bald, and he carried himself in an nonthreatening way, as if trying to avoid attention. Alexander, who'd grown tired of worrying about what house an old clothing article would pick for him, entertained himself by trying to guess the house of the boy. Ravenclaw, perhaps.

To Alexander's great surprise, the hat called out the house he'd least expected.

"Slytherin!"

What?

But the boy only moved to stand beside the Adams girl.

Alex didn't have much time to ponder this peculiar guy, though, because soon enough McGonagall called his own name.

"Alexander Hamilton."

He walked forward, keeping his back straight and chin high. As he sat down the hat sank straight over his eyes.

Hmmm, whispered a soft voice in his ear. Interesting.

He was just about to ask what, exactly, was so interesting, when the hat spoke out loud. "Gryffindor!"

Forcing his face into a neutral expression, Alexander removed the hat and walked to stand by the wall, where he was greeted by soft applause from the two girls already there. He could feel the eyes of someone pierce his neck, so he kept his features under control, but a soft warmth spread in his chest as he took his place beside them. His housemates.

x

"Thomas Jefferson."

It was no surprise to him that the guy was sorted into Slytherin. He shot Alexander a glance as he stood up, a small, arrogant smirk lining his lips. Or a sneer. Alexander wasn't sure, but a sudden feeling if dislike came over him. If this guy even dared to think he was superior for having been sorted into Slytherin—

McGonagall frowned down at her list. "Marie-Joseph Paul—"

"It's Lafayette." Alexander looked up to see the guy from before—the one who'd shown a sudden interest in France—striding towards the stool. His voice had a decided accent, and not an American one. The professor glared daggers at him, but he only flashed her a brilliant smile and sat down. She glanced down at her list again and pursed her lips tightly together, but she dropped the hat on his head.

"Gryffindor!"

This time Alexander joined the girls in their applause as the guy shot up from his chair and walked towards them.

"Bonjour," he murmured as he settled next to Alexander. His eyes gleamed. But before Alexander could respond he was interrupted by the hat calling out yet another Gryffindor.

This guy was shorter than the other had been, with curly hair and a face splattered with freckles. He was also—as Alexander couldn't help but notice—very attractive. The guy looked like he was about to say something to them, but a very stern look from the professor had him close his mouth again, instead only grinning at his future housemates. Alexander, unable to stop himself, smiled back.

x

The next student to pique Alexander's attention was the boy who'd clearly been Jefferson's friend. He, too, was sorted into Slytherin, and Alexander could hardly stifle his groan. Great. He glared at Jefferson, who was too busy subtly high-fiving his friend to notice.

Luckily the person after him, a huge guy by the name of Hercules Mulligan, got sorted into Gryffindor. Alex watched Jefferson's look sour as he watched the guy make his way over to them, and Alexander felt a smug sense of satisfaction as he noted that their corner was fuller than Jefferson's.

x

Professor McGonagall finished sorting the last student and rolled up her scroll. There'd only been one more addition to the Gryffindor corner, a young girl named Margarita Schuyler, who'd been part of a trio of girls all with the same name. Same surname, that was. By the look of things the two others had been her older sisters—Angelica and Elizabeth?—who'd been sorted into Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff respectively.

"Okay then," McGonagall said. "Now that you've all been sorted the head of your house will lead you to your common rooms where you'll also find your dormitories. Since you've arrived in the middle of the term your lessons will begin immediately tomorrow, eight a.m. sharp. Being new is no excuse for being tardy. Now, Gryffindors, if you'd come with me—"

She turned on her heel and walked out of the hall, so Alexander and the rest of his house shuffled after her. She led them up so many flights of stairs and dwindling corridors that Alexander started to wonder whether being lost was an excuse for being tardy, before she stopped in front of a portrait of a round woman in a pink dress.

She turned to address the group.

"This is the entrance to your common room. The Fat Lady guards it—" the portrait waved, and Alexander took a step back in shock—"all you have to do is speak the password. For now, it's 'tea crates'"

"Indeed it is," the portrait said and swung open. They clambered in, finding themselves in an open room with comfy-looking armchairs and a roaring fire. Alexander was quite positive it was the nicest room he'd ever been in.

"Girls, up the stairs to the right. Boys the same to the left. You'll find the doors marked with your appropriate years. Oh, and boys—" she regarded them with a stern face and glimmering eyes. "Don't try to sneak into the girls' room. I've warned you." With that cryptic statement she turned and climbed out of the portrait hole, leaving them to find their way to the dorms.

x

Their sleeping quarters were just as nice as the common room. Four big, four-poster beds with crimson bedding and curtains were already prepared for them, and they found that their luggage had been carried up for them. Alexander was sort of grateful for that. Even though he had very few belongings with him, he hadn't been very fond of the idea of climbing all those stairs again.

Once they'd all settled down Alexander heard the sound of curtains being drawn back. He followed suit, and saw Lafayette peeking out from his bed. They others, too, had pulled their curtains back. They all looked around at one another.

"Right," Lafayette grinned, "shall we introduced ourselves?"

Hello, and thank you so much for reading this! If anyone is here who've read my other stories, welcome back! And if this is the first time you've read anything I've written, hi! I hope you'll enjoy it. My plan is for this to be a shorter Hamilton/Harry Potter crossover. I'm aiming for 6-7 chapters, but I'm not completely sure about the length yet. My intention is for it to be set during the time of the American revolution, but for simplicity I'll keep the teachers we all know and love from the modern time of Harry Potter. I hope you agree with my choice of houses for our characters (and if you don't, please let me know! I always love to hear how other people would sort characters from other fandoms), and that you'll want to stick around to hear about what they'll get up to. Thanks for reading, and take care!