Elphaba818's Author Note:

Hey, welcome back to chapter two! SharKohen and I are both so happy that you readers are continuing to read our story! Shar has no AN today unfortunately, but that's okay! I'm sure most of you are electing to skip reading this AN note anyway, lol! :P

I would also like to thank everyone who was kind enough to favorite and follow 'Magic Intertwined' even though all you read so far was just the opening chapter. Thanks so much! But I would like to give a special shout out to the three people who went the extra mile and reviewed:

- Guest (Please leave a name next time for future shout outs!)

- telliaquoxe

- Cloud4012

You guys were so awesome to leave such nice messages! Hope you keep reading!

That goes for everyone, actually. All you dear readers, enjoy the chapter! And please leave a nice review for Shar and me when you're done! :D


Chapter Two: The Sorting Ceremony

Her fingers drummed impatiently on the wood of the table.

"How much longer do we have to wait?"

"No clue. But they better hurry up."

"I'm starving! They better bring in the first years soon so we can eat. And I want to hear about Quidditch tryouts!"

"Sucks that we still have to try out for the team. Since we're the top players, we should be guaranteed spots on the team this year."

"If only it worked that way, Astrid. If only it worked that way…"

Astrid rolled her eyes, but Merida knew she wasn't really annoyed. Truth be told, she wasn't either. Quidditch tryouts were always fun, and the two of them always dominated the Quidditch pitch every year. The likelihood that the Gryffindor team captain this year would find a better Beater than the half-blood Viking girl or better Chaser than the pure-blood Scottish princess were slim to none.

There was a dull pause in the conversation as the two friends both glanced back to the enormous doors that led back out to the Entrance Hall, waiting for them to open any second now so that one of the school teachers could lead the newest group of first years inside, but after a few moments of the nothing happening, Merida groaned.

"Ugh! What's taking them so long?! We didn't have to wait around forever back when we were first years!"

Astrid laughed. "Actually, Merida, I don't think that's entirely true. We had that long, traditional boat ride across the Black Lake when we first came to school, remember?"

Her question surprised the curly-haired redhead, and she immediately thought back to the night three years ago when she first arrived at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It had been almost like stepping out of one of her more realistic dreams, when the Hogwarts Express pulled up to the Hogsmeade station and she and the other first year students had obediently followed the chaperone professor to the boats lined up that they rode up to the school. That had been a defining moment for Merida, riding in that boat. Not only was that the night that she saw Hogwarts Castle for the first time, but it was on that boat that she met her best friend.

Before either girl could comment any further, the doors to the Great Hall opened, and they immediately hushed while turning around in their seats to watch as the new first years slowly made their way inside the Great Hall in a single file line behind Professor North, the school's Deputy Headmaster. Expressions of excitement, nervousness, or awestruck wonder was on each one of their faces as they took in the magical dining hall for the very first time.

Their various reactions to the majesty of the Great Hall made Merida grin. Although she was pure-blood and her father had told her stories about his time in Hogwarts for as long as she could remember, hearing about what the Great Hall looked like and seeing it with her own two eyes were very different things. She had been just as amazed when she first entered the Great Hall three years ago as those new students were right now. After all, even in her own magical castle back in the Highlands, there wasn't an enchanted ceiling bewitched to always look the sky up above, and floating candles high overhead to provide magical light.

Students from the four Houses watched curiously from their respective tables as the first years made their way up to the High Table. This was situated on a long dais at the very end of the enormous room, where all the teachers were. A lone stool had been placed at the foot of the dais, and resting on top of it were two items: a large scroll of parchment, and a rather old, patched and frayed brown pointed wizard's hat.

The Hogwarts Sorting Hat. One of the only surviving relics from the four founders of the school.

When they at last came to the edge of the platform and the stool with the Sorting Hat, Professor North wordlessly signaled for the small eleven-year-olds to stay in line as he moved to stand beside the stool. There was a long, lengthy pause of complete silence as everyone in the Great Hall stared at the ancient wizard's hat in expectation. Then the hat twitched. A deep tear near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and then the hat broke out into a song. Merida beamed throughout the entire thing. She loved hearing the Sorting Hat sing.

When the musical number was over a few minutes later, there was thunderous applause as everyone in the Great Hall clapped and cheered. The hat seemed to puff itself up at the kind recognition, and it bowed its pointed tip to each one of the four House tables in thanks before becoming quite still again. The new first years all whispered amongst themselves as they absorbed the meaning of the song, about where each one of them would belong in their separated school House's over the course of the next seven years, but Merida disregarded this. She was still grinning. The ever-changing yearly song that the hat sang before the Start-of-Term Feast was always a highlight in her book.

Professor North raised his hands for silence, and the noise gradually died away. When all was quiet once again, he collected the scroll of parchment and addressed the new students hovering around him in a loud, clear voice.

"When I call your name, you will come forth, and I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head," he declared. "When the hat announces your House, you will then go and sit at the appropriated table."

Merida watched happily as the jolly white-bearded professor called out the first name and the designated student, Vanellope Von Schweetz, a small girl with glossy black hair tied back in a ponytail and decorated with a variety of colorful hair clips, shot out of line at top speed. She nearly knocked the stool over as she launched her body on top of it, and snatched the hat right out of North's hands before thrusting it down on her head.

The fiery-haired Scottish girl couldn't help but snicker at this. The girl reminded her of how she had acted during her own Sorting ceremony. She could never forget that day when she ran up to the stage, smacked the hat right on her head and folded her arms in anticipation. The hat had been impressed with her eagerness and announced her almost immediately as Gryffindor – not that being a true-bred, redheaded Dunbroch wasn't already a deciding factor.

For this fresh-faced hat-snatcher, however, the Hat suddenly shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"

The whole school applauded politely, but the long table with all the students with blue and bronze accents on their school robes cheered the loudest as small Vanellope whipped the hat off her head, and sped off as fast as lightning to her new House table. She was grinning from ear to ear as she sat down amongst the blue eagles, seemingly very pleased with where she ended up.

The two Gryffindor girls watched as the Sorting Ceremony continued, clapping kindly whenever a new student was sorted into either Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, booing with disdain if they landed in Slytherin, and then whooping for joy should they end up in their own house. But no other names or faces stood out to Merida amongst the new first years as the lineup grew smaller and smaller.

Or at least, not until one particular name on the list made Merida sit up straighter in surprise.

"Emma Overland Frost!"

The tomboyish princess leaned forward with interest. A small girl with straight brown hair and equally dark eyes was stumbling out of line. She was walking slowly up to the stool, trying to keep a monotone expression on her face, but it was evident by the way her fists were clenched up that she was evidently very nervous. Merida couldn't fault any of the new first years for that. While she had not been worried at all during her own Sorting, for some kids, it could be very nerve-wracking. Even though Gryffindor was home for the bravest in the school, she'd seen her fair share over the years of new Gryffindors approach the Hat with white faces, only to have color return to their cheeks after they sat down.

But still, Emma Overland Frost…? The hair and eye color were the same, but there was no way that such a cute little girl could possibly be related to—

"Yeah! Good luck, Emmy!"

Every head in the Great Hall immediately whipped away from the little dark-haired girl to the Slytherin table. The moment her eyes locked onto the boy who had shouted out, Merida's eyes narrowed. Looks like she had been right. Jackson Overland Frost was grinning from ear to ear. Oh, how she detested him. She quite hoped that he would make it onto the Slytherin Quidditch team again this year, if only to have the opportunity to slam him.

Still though, Jack paid no more attention to her than he did to anyone else who was gazing at him in annoyance right now for having technically interrupted the Sorting Ceremony. His eyes were solely on little Emma – his sister, Merida realized – and he was giving her a big thumb up for extra encouragement as he kept on smiling. Little Emma gawked at him in disbelief for several seconds as her cheeks brightened with embarrassment, but then she rolled her eyes at him before sitting down on the stool and letting Professor North place the hat on her head.

There was a long stretch of interrupted silence as everyone waited to hear where the Hat would sort young Emma. After the spectacle her brother made for her, even the teachers were looking on curiously, including the headmaster. All of them knew that Jack Frost was a pranking troublemaker that tended to slack off in his classes. But the question was, was Emma Overland Frost just like her free-spirited older brother? Would she become a Slytherin, too?

They waited…

And waited…

And they waited…

But the hat showed no sign of announcing where the little girl should go.

Pretty soon, three full minutes had gone by, and whispering began to break out across the room. Merida raised a brow as she stared at Jack's little sister. Tricky sortie, huh? Not surprising, to be honest. There was at least one hard to sort student every year. The record time for the hat to decide happened long before she was even born, and apparently that boy sat on the stool for nearly seven minutes before the Hat made a decision. That better not happen this time, though. She was hungry, and like she told Astrid before, she was anxious for Headmaster Manny to announce when Quidditch tryouts would be! So that Hat had better hurry up and make a decision so the ceremony could continue or else—

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The princess jolted a bit when she heard this, and it took her a few seconds for her to absorb what just happened before she realized that others at her table were clapping and cheering as little Emma pulled off the Sorting Hat and hopped down from the stool. Merida quickly joined in on the applause, making sure to smile kindly as the little girl weaved her way through the gathered crowd of remaining first years to reach the Gryffindor table. Emma might be the sister of the utterly annoying Jack Frost, but if she was a Gryffindor rather than a Slytherin like him, then there was hope for the kid. The last thing this school needed was another—

A sharp wolf whistle reached her ears, and she spun around in her seat. Jack Frost was making a fool of himself yet again. He was standing on top of his bench, clapping and whooping like a madman. The flabbergasted and enraged expressions of his Slytherin brethren were completely ignored.

Merida scoffed. What an idiot. She couldn't wait to see the look on his face when Gryffindor triumphed over Slytherin once again in Quidditch.


"Woohoo! Yeah!"

"Jack, sit down!"

"Great job, Emmy!

His princely best friend grabbed a fistful of material from his robe and yanked him down to his seat. "You're embarrassing me!"

He gave Hans' a critical look over. "You don't need my help for that."

The redhead rubbed his temples while muttering swears under his breath, before thumbing behind him. "Want to get murdered in your sleep?"

Ah, yes. The other Slytherins were glaring at him, spite in their eyes. A few were just gawking in complete disbelief, but he didn't care. It wasn't their sister who had just been sorted, after all.

Jack made sure to roll his eyes exaggeratedly for that, but nonetheless did as Hans said and glanced around. The Slytherins seated nearest to him were glaring venomously. Especially the fifth year Stabbington twins. They were such bullies.

Jack shrugged nonchalantly. "Jerks are always glaring at me like that, and those that aren't are just straight up ignoring me. Nothing new here."

"You never know," warned the prince. "Don't draw attention to yourself. You're just intentionally inviting trouble."

Jack made a point of rolling his eyes at that, smirking cockily. That way Hans wouldn't notice his hands had balled up into tight fists.

"Let them try," he countered. "If they give me trouble, I'll get back at them a hundred times over."

Despite what others may think of him, Jack wasn't an idiot. He was well aware his childish antics didn't win him any favorable points with his fellow Slytherins. But it wasn't like it mattered. Jack knew quite well that he would be hated by everyone other than Hans in Slytherin simply for being a Muggle-born. So why bother suppressing his true self? Mature or childish, smart or stupid – it wouldn't matter in the end.

He learned that the hard way during his own Sorting Ceremony three years ago. It was a shame that such an iconic moment of his life was tainted by his prejudiced housemates, because while he hadn't minded the Sorting experience itself at all, it was after the Hat placed him in Slytherin that made him scowl, despite being used to how they all treated him by now.

When Professor North had called out his name from the list, he hadn't hesitated for a second. He had walked quickly but carefully to the stage, robes smoothed of wrinkles and hair smoothed from spikes. He had wanted to make a good impression then, and he must have, for the teachers had been watching very carefully throughout the ceremony. Even headmaster Manny Lunar was appraising him as he lowered himself onto the stool. North had set the hat on his head, and a few seconds later, the hat was whispering in his ear.

'Jackson Overland Frost… Hmm… Curious… Very curious…'

What the Sorting Hat said befuddled the hyperactive boy. Not only because he didn't understand what the hat meant, but because the hat was talking at all. 'I can hear the hat's thoughts during this whole thing?' he had thought to himself. 'Weird…'

'Do not refer to me in third person. We talk to each other during this process through thoughts.'

Jack was astounded. 'You can talk to me in my mind?! And you're a hat?! Wicked!'

Judging by the way the voice he was hearing seemed to be holding back a distinct cough, the boy was pretty sure he made the hat hold back a small laugh. 'Not raised in a magical community, I assume?'

Jack grinned. 'Nope. Muggle-born.'

'Muggle-born?' repeated the Sorting Hat. To this day, Jack wasn't a hundred percent positive, but he was fairly certain that the hat sounded rather odd when it said this. 'I see…'

'Something wrong?'

'Nothing that concerns your sorting. Let's get back to that, shall we? You're a curious one indeed, young Jackson. You—'

'Don't call me Jackson. It's Jack.'

'My apologies. Still though… you're very curious, Jack. You don't remember your father, I see, but you love your mother and little sister more than anything, and would gladly give your life to protect them from harm. That chivalry would make for an excellent Gryffindor indeed.'

Jack's hopes had soared when he heard this. He might have been relatively new to the Wizarding world when he first arrived at Hogwarts a few years ago, but the little he had found out about Hogwarts on his own had led him to believe that Gryffindor was by far the best House out of the four. 'You're throwing me there, then? Sweet! Thanks a million!'

'Just a moment. I never said that you were entirely Gryffindor. You are very brave, but you also have a mischievous side to you as well. You can be quite resourceful when you wish to be, and rather cunning when it comes to causing trouble.' The hat seemed to hum to itself. 'Slytherin can help you on your way to greatness.'

If he had known then of Slytherin's obsession with pure-bloods, or the fact that it churned out more Dark Art practitioners than the other houses, he would have never been so careless.

But he had been an idiotic, ignorant Muggle-born first year. So he had shrugged and said, 'Slytherin sounds cool.'

When he had joined the students with snake insignias on their black robes with emerald green hoods, they had greeted him with claps on the back and cheers. He thought that everything might be all right, until—

"Frost isn't a pure-blood name. You half-blood, then? From the mother's side?"

He had laughed. "Oh, no. Mom's not magical. I'm probably Muggle-born."

And bam! Just like that, he had painted a bright red target on his back.

Those around him had immediately edged back from him, as if he had just declared himself carrying the bubonic plague. His inquiries for clarification had been ignored until he had found it painted on his forehead the first morning after the welcome dinner. It had been a horrifying sight that he had only discovered in the boys' bathroom after waking, and shortly before he had been doused with a bucket of brown, stinking sludge.

MUDBLOOD.

More of such things had occurred following that morning – missing belongings, broken stationary, nasty notes and so forth. Slytherin cunning meant that his bullies had covered their tracks well, and loyalty amongst pure-bloods meant that onlookers had kept their lips sealed when teachers demanded answers. However, as the Sorting Hat had observed, Jack was no short of cunning himself and through a series of eavesdropping, note-forging and lies, he had discovered the culprits. And, boy, there had been a number. A Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw would have inform the teachers. But Jack was neither of those.

Perhaps that dastardly Hat did have a point.

Unexpectedly one night, half the Slytherin boys' dorm had found their beds infested with spiders.

No one had been able to prove that it had been him behind the prank, but people knew he did it. When the jerks had tried to get even with him again, they woke up the next morning to find all their school robes mysteriously dyed a vibrant shade of pink, dangling from the hanging lamps in the common room. How Jack had managed to pull that off since he had been only a first year student baffled everyone in Slytherin house. He hadn't been taught Color Changing Charms yet. Since there was no way to prove that Jack had been behind the incident, he wasn't punished.

Truth be told, the prank had been all too easy to pull off for the aspiring trickster. While he hadn't known any spells yet that could help him with the stunt, it was his Muggle upbringing that taught him cloth dying – a once arduous component of his laundry chores that helped him get back at the bullies.

From then on, everyone knew better than to mess with Jackson Overland Frost. He got occasional shoves in the shoulder with 'Mudblood' muttered in his ear, but for the most part, the majority of Slytherins just straight up ignored him. It wasn't an ideal circumstance, but it was the best that Jack could hope for. He had to give it to Hans. Defying the odds to befriend a 'mudblood' didn't do him any favors to his already non-existent popularity and he knew that there were occasions that his friend had suffered by association.

Which was why Emma being a Gryffindor was a good thing in the long run. Even though he loved to tease her, Jack loved his little sister more than anything in the world. If she had been placed in Slytherin like him… that would have been very, very bad. She was overall a sweet little girl, but she also had a temper to her. She wouldn't have been able to to resist picking a fight with the older Slytherin kids should they taunt her about being 'a filthy Mudblood.' She wouldn't win, of course, and all the harassment would break her fierce spirit for sure.

Gryffindor would be good for her. It probably would have been good for him too, had he only the brains to have begged the Sorting Hat to put him there instead.

"What's up? You actually look serious for once." Hans' voice interrupted his thoughts. "It's unnatural."

The dark-haired boy blinked, returning to the present. "Just remembering my Sorting, that's all. Emma will probably be a lot happier in Gryffindor rather than Slytherin."

The prince raised a bemused brow. "You sure you want to say that now, while sitting at the table where everyone can hear you?" he pointed out.

Jack shrugged. "All I'm saying is that in least in Gryffindor, she won't be bullied so bad. It's hard being the only Muggle-born Slytherin of our year, you know."

Hans stared at him for a moment, but then he shook his head. "That's where you're wrong."

"Huh?"

"You're not the only Slytherin Mudblood in our year, Jack. Have you forgotten?"

Realization flashed in Jack's brown eyes, and then he promptly turned his head to glance down at the far end of the table. That was where a certain reclusive princess sat at every meal for the past three years, after all.


"Princess Anna of Arendelle!"

Elsa's eyes snapped up. She forced herself to focus on keeping her breathing steady as her cheerful younger sister squeezed her way through the line, an eager smile on her face. So relaxed and carefree.

The platinum-blonde girl was feeling the complete opposite. Being in the Great Hall for any set length of time was always a source of great anxiety for her. Even after four years here, she was still not comfortable being around so many people. But she had spent the past six years mastering the art of deception. So other than the small creases in her gloves as she clutched her slightly shaky hands together, no one had any idea that the Muggle-born crown princess of Arendelle was mentally praying that nothing would go wrong with her ice magic.

Anna wasn't like that. She loved the attention and the masses that watched her as she darted up towards Professor North and the Sorting Hat. She happened to glance back over her shoulder to gaze over at the Slytherin table. Elsa's breath hitched in her throat as Anna's eyes locked on to hers. Her sister waved happily to her before plopping herself down on the stool with an excited smile on her face and her fingers crossed for extra luck. Moments later, the old wizard's hat was set down on her head, and all was silent in the Great Hall.

Anxiety was knocking on the door, so Elsa turned her eyes away from the scene for the moment.

"Don't feel," she breathed, not daring to speak any louder that way no one could overhear her. "Don't feel."

She hadn't been able to hide her growing powers from the Sorting Hat all those years ago. 'Hmm… Yes, very secretive,' it had mused in her mind. 'And you are willing to do anything to make sure that whatever it is you are hiding stays a secret… A Slytherin quality…'

Elsa's eyes had gone wide in shock. 'No! Not Slytherin! Please! Anything but Slytherin!' she had screamed in her head. She had read all about Slytherin house on the train. It had been the one house that she absolutely did not want to end up in! She couldn't let herself end up in the house that would automatically dictate that she was destined to be a monster and hurt everyone one day. 'Ravenclaw! Sort me into Ravenclaw! Please, I beg you!'

'Ravenclaw?' The Sorting Hat had sounded rather intrigued at her plea. 'I do not deny that you are very bright, Princess Elsa. You are most likely one of the smartest new students that I've seen so far this year. But there are more important things that make a good witch. Sorting you into Ravenclaw would not help you to grow at all. You are far more suited for Slytherin.'

'But… But—'

"SLYTHERIN!"

She had come to the school hoping that it would help her with her powers, to help her not become a monster. But on the very first day, the label had been stuck on her and her miserable fate. She couldn't help feeling a little betrayed.

But the hat was just doing its job, and if it could sense that she belonged in the snake house – the house where all the monstrous and evil Dark witches and wizards thrived in – then it had to be true.

Admitting that fact, however, did not mean that she had any intention of revealing it to any other. No, let her stay the aloof Muggle-born princess. Let her stay hidden behind her gloves and impenetrable, emotionless farce. Let her continue the deception that the Sorting Hat had detected, for it wasn't as if it was going to tell anyone else.

Elsa gulped as she waited for the Sorting Hat's decision over her sister. It had denied her the one request she had made of it back when she was eleven-years-old. It may not be on her head right now, but let it grant her this one wish now, three years later. Anna may want to be in her house, but she was far safer from her in another house. Any of the other three school houses would do – any of them.

"Not Slytherin…" the girl whispered, clenching her hands up into two tight balls. "Not Slytherin... Please, not Slytherin…"

There was a brief pause, and then finally, the Hat shouted out its decision for the little princess of Arendelle.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

As the cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table, Elsa's relief flooded over her entire being. Thank the heavens.

As Professor North lifted the hat off her sister's head, she noted the sad, disappointed expression on Anna's face. The younger girl gazed back at her for a moment before walking sadly towards the Gryffindor table. Part of her felt guilty for feeling so happy that Anna's hopes to just spend time with her had been dashed yet again – even if this instance hadn't been her fault – but that didn't matter. She was safe. That was all that mattered. Anna was in Gryffindor. She would be accepted there and not be ridiculed for being a Muggle-born. Pretty soon, she would forget all about her reclusive older sister and would be able to find comfort from the various new friends she would surely make. Everything would turn out just fine.


As the young Muggle-born princess sadly weaved her way through the crowd of first-years toward the Gryffindor table, a certain boy sitting amongst the Hufflepuffs took note of her gloomy state. He sighed.

Hiccup had no idea why Princess Anna seemed so depressed about being sorted into Gryffindor. Was she unaware of what Gryffindor represented? Gryffindor was by far the best out of all the four school houses! It wasn't just the house where all the other teens from Berk aside from himself and Fishlegs had been sorted into, it was the house that his dad, the great Stoick the Vast, had been in back when he was a Hogwarts student. He couldn't help but feel somewhat annoyed with the red-headed eleven-year-old's attitude. She had no idea how lucky she was to be labeled as a brave and courageous lion. It was a thousand times better than being forever branded as a kind, but loser badger.

When he had been a young first year waiting to try on the hat, he remembered telling himself that he would somehow convince the hat that he belonged in Gryffindor. He might not have been the strongest kid from Berk or had the confidence in himself to tell off Snotlout whenever he tormented him, but if the hat sorted him with the rest of the bold and courageous lions, he could change!

At that time, Snotlout had already been sorted and had been sending him mocking jeers from the red and gold table as he patiently waited his turn, and that had bothered his younger self. His cruel and idiotic cousin, who he had predicted would end up in Slytherin, was of Gryffindor quality. His father would have all the more reason to listen to his Uncle Spitelout's pleadings to make his cousin the future chief to the village. Then Astrid had been called up, and then – to no one's surprise – she had ended up in Gryffindor, too. That only had strengthened his resolve. He might be a useless failure, but somehow, he had been confident that he would be able to persuade the Sorting Hat that he needed to be a Gryffindor. Just for once, he wanted to prove to everyone that he was no different from them, despite his odd qualities.

But the Gods hated him, so the Sorting went something like this instead:

'Um… Hey, Mr. Sorting Hat, sir. So… well, my dad was in—'

'Gryffindor. I know. I put him there,' the hat had said rather matter-of-factly in his brain.

He had felt a great sense of relief, thinking that he might have been able to win after all. 'Well, most Vikings go to—'

'Gryffindor too. I know. I put them there.'

'Yeah. Exactly. So I was thinking—'

'But you aren't like most Vikings, are you?'

'Uh… Well, no. I suppose not. But—'

'So I can't sort you like most Vikings, can I?'

'Well, you see—'

'You need to grow. You need to be challenged.'

Hope surged in his chest. This was all going swimmingly. 'Yes!' He had smiled. 'Yes! I want to be challenged. So the perfect house for me, logically, would be—'

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

'Wait, what?' His mouth had fallen open in alarm. 'I'm not done yet!'

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

'You can't do this!'

"Next please," the hat had told Professor North. "This one has nits."

Okay, so his memory might be a little off, but Hiccup could have sworn that that was how it more or less went down.

It hadn't been surprising when he had descended from the stool then reeking shame. The Thornston twins had practiced their face-pulling, Fishlegs had looked a little sympathetic, Snotlout had been pointing and cackling, and Astrid…

…Astrid hadn't even reacted, and that somehow stung more than all the taunting put together.

Going home to his father for Snoggletog that year had been very, very awkward.

"Jamie Bennett!"

A scrawny boy scrambled up to the stool, beaming sunshine and rainbows. Hiccup didn't bother watching, deciding to amuse himself with tracing imaginary circles on the house table.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

His circle-drawing process was interrupted when the student next to him jerked his arm. Of course, that student was one of the housemates who actually bothered to cheer and hoot as a welcome to the poor soul who was now condemned to the lousiest house in all the of the Wizarding world. What made it worse was that the kid was still grinning happily as he clasped the hand of one of the house seniors and babbled his joy. He actually wanted to be here? Hiccup couldn't understand that in the slightest.

"What a twerp."

This came from across the table. Hiccup lifted his head to gaze at a blocky blonde boy sitting around him. He didn't personally know the guy, but he might have seen him around the table and common room before. He was pretty sure that he was a third year student. He had a name with a Nordic tone to it. What was it again? "Christopher, right?"

The blonde shot him an irritable scowl. "It's Kristoff," he corrected sourly. "Kristoff Bjorgman." With a roll of his eyes, he pulled out something orange from his robe – a carrot? – before tearing a bite off it. Munching solemnly, he silently offered the bitten end to Hiccup.

Despite the stereotype of Vikings being barbarians, Hiccup in fact was a well-bred boy that didn't eat strange foods offered by strange people. And especially not if that person had already eaten some of it. "Er, no thanks."

"Your loss." Kristoff shrugged, leaning carelessly against the table as he watched the next first year approach the front of the dining hall. "I don't think they're going to end anytime soon."

On cue, Hiccup's stomach growled. He sighed. He hadn't managed to get anymore chocolates from the Trolley Witch back on the train, so that left him with zero food options till the sorting was done.

He gazed across the hall, to the table that consisted of the courageous and the bold, their red collars and their lion crests stitched over their chests. A pang of longing struck him in the chest suddenly, as he imagined a fictional universe where he was bigger, stronger, muscular, and just about everything else his father would have preferred for a son. In that world, he would be sitting there amongst the Gryffindors, cheering proudly for every new first year that joined them, and with a future consisting of Quidditch Trophy after Quidditch Trophy.

But no, in this miserable life, he was nothing more than the Walking Fishbone. The Loser Hufflepuff. The Almost Squib.

With one last sigh, he rested his chin on his arms, and gazed sadly up at the enchanted night sky ceiling.


Ravenclaws were known to always be very perceptive and to always pay attention to everything going around them, and that was true even now. The students that sat at the blue and bronze eagle table were watching the Sorting Ceremony with rapt attention, carefully memorizing the names of new students to their faces for future reference in case they should be sorted to their house. Every Ravenclaw was doing this.

Well, every Ravenclaw except one, that is.

"Pascal, I can't just spring the subject first thing on mother the moment I speak with her again. I have to start a casual conversation first."

A small green reptile was on top of the table surface, and stared back pointedly at its only human friend with narrowed eyes.

"Oh, come now! I'm not trying to put off telling her, I swear. It's just… it's not going to be an easy discussion. You know that."

A small, irritated squeak escaped the chameleon's mouth.

"Don't give me that. It's easy for you to say that. You're not the one who's going to be labeled as an ungrateful daughter by their mother for wanting to drop her class."

Pascal rolled his eyes at her, and Rapunzel couldn't help but sigh. She loved her secret pet more than anything, but sometimes she wished her pal wouldn't silently sass her. Pascal had no idea what it was like to be in her shoes – or lack, thereof. She rarely chose to wear shoes outside of school and preferred to go around barefoot in her tower home. But the point was, Pascal was small but mighty, and willing to stand up to Gothel if he could so as to help his only friend in the world.

Sadly though, Rapunzel did not possess have the courage that her small companion had, even though it was something she dearly wished she did have.

Sighing a bit to herself, Rapunzel tore her gaze away from Pascal. Ignoring the next student that had been called forth to be sorted, her eyes shifted past the last handful of first years still waiting in front of the stool and she instead looked at the teachers sitting at the High Table. Her eyes searched about frantically for a moment, but then she finally spied her mother sitting near the far right end. Like her daughter, Gothel was not paying any attention to the Sorting Ceremony. Her deep gray eyes were locked solely on her daughter, and her ruby lips turned upwards when she noticed that Rapunzel was now looking at her.

Rapunzel couldn't help but smile pleasantly back in return, and she even went so far as to try and discreetly wave to her as well. Despite how sharp Gothel's tongue could be and how she had all but forced her to take her incredibly boring Muggle Studies class last year when class electives could finally be made, Rapunzel loved her mother. She might be a Squib, but the love a daughter could have for their mother was something that could not ever be measured.

It was at that moment that a quiet laugh cut through the air. "Mummy's girl," someone muttered, and then muffled snickers broke out across the entire table.

Rapunzel's head whipped around. Everyone was trying to hide their mocking laughter of her behind their hands or with cleverly concealed coughs, but Rapunzel knew the truth. They were all laughing at her.

Her cheeks brightened with humiliation, but Pascal turned a vivid shade of furious crimson upon seeing all of the other Ravenclaws laughing at his only friend. He started to hiss heatedly at the other kids who were teasing his owner, but Rapunzel simply plucked the tiny creature off the table – surprising him enough to change back to his normal green color at once – and placed him on her shoulder.

"It's okay, Pascal. I'm fine," she assured the chameleon.

But they both knew that was a lie. Rapunzel had always been mocked by her peers for being the daughter of the schools' only squib teacher. And because she was so kind hearted and docile, she couldn't bring herself to say 'Enough!' and walk away. And being so self-conscious and awkward, she couldn't flick a bored hand at the miscreants and tell them to go… well, do something to themselves.

What made it even harder for her was that she was a Ravenclaw. Granted, Rapunzel had nothing against being a Ravenclaw. She was proud to be a member of the Hogwarts House that considered people who had above average intelligence and extremely creative in high regard. But intelligence could breed arrogance, and Ravenclaws were no saints. Those within their house that didn't display the adequate intellect on a daily basis were dismissed by those who oozed buckets of it. And them being them and her being… well, herself, it was obvious that there was a gap along the smart-o-meter. She wasn't stupid – not really – and her grades weren't terrible, but it was like comparing crystals to diamonds. It didn't help that she always stuck to Gothel like glue and preferred chatting with her bizarre chameleon pet rather than her housemates. People thought of her as socially-deficient, intellectual sub-par and an all-round scaredy-cat. Perhaps they weren't wrong.

Knowing that her mockers might be right didn't make her feel better in any way, but she had chosen to spend her seven years at Hogwarts this way. The Sorting Hat gave her a choice when she slipped it on back when she was eleven. She had chosen Ravenclaw, and she had to live with the consequences.

Her mother, Gothel, used to comment that magic had evidently skipped a generation in her family, since she herself had no such abilities. She used to say – and still did – that Rapunzel was incredibly fortunate to be able to attend such a fancy school. It, of course, being very expensive, and Mother never failed to point that out. Working as a teacher for Muggle Studies just barely paid the cut and it was dreadfully, dreadfully hard work, so the least her daughter could do was cooperate and stay away from those hooligan classmates of hers!

Back as a first year, Rapunzel had not dwelled on such things, like fees or the consequence of having a parent on staff, especially one as hard-handed as her mother. She had waited in line restless like a bouncing ball of pure energy, eager for her turn with the Sorting Hat. She hadn't thought of friends, or the future, or Mother's grumbles – and my, what a list of them there were. She had just been eager to learn all she could about magic and mysteries, and all those exciting things that sounded like fantastical fairytales. This was where her life truly began!

'Charming. Very charming,' the Sorting Hat had whispered in her ear at her turn. 'You are quite a charming young girl.'

'Thank you. That's very kind of you to say,' she had thought back to it kindly.

'You have a very compassionate soul, and you possess unyielding loyalty to those who you love,' the hat declared. 'Those are Hufflepuff traits. But at the same time… you also have a creative streak to you, and there is also a thirst for knowledge. Such qualities would make for a fine Ravenclaw.'

'Oh, my!'

The Sorting Hat almost seemed to laugh at that, and that made Rapunzel actually giggle. 'I suppose that ultimately, the choice is yours then.'

Rapunzel blinked. 'The choice is mine? I don't understand…'

'Where would you like to go? You would do well in either House, my dear, but your opinion as to where you would like to be placed is just as important in determining which House you are suited for as my opinion is.'

The long-haired blonde was quiet for some time as she considered the Hat's words, but then she finally smiled. 'It doesn't matter to me, really.'

To this day, Rapunzel lived by the belief that she was one of the few people in this world that had actually managed to stun the Hogwarts Sorting Hat with her answer. 'Come again?'

'I honestly do not care which House you sort me into, Sir Sorting Hat,' she replied. 'Both Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw sound lovely. If I had to make a choice as to which House I want to be in… I'd say place me in a House where I won't have to be afraid to be myself. I like to paint! I like to read! I like to play chess, play the guitar, play darts, sew, knit, bake, cook, make pottery, candlestick making, dance ballet, self-taught ventriloquy… and charting stars! I especially love charting stars! Put me into a house where people will appreciate all my hobbies and may even share one or two of my hobbies with me!'

The hat had hummed thoughtfully at this. 'You appear to be a girl of many interests, young Rapunzel. If that is what you wish.'

'It is.'

"RAVENCLAW!"

Rapunzel sighed as she thought back on all this. She had made the choice to let the Sorting Hat place her wherever it thought best suited her without trying to convince it otherwise, but perhaps she should have told it put her in Hufflepuff instead. Hufflepuff's were always so kind. They wouldn't have looked down on her for loving her mother even though she was a squib, and she was sure that they wouldn't have considered her to be a killjoy coward for spending so much time with Gothel. Hufflepuff was… safe.

Would she have been happier in Hufflepuff? It wouldn't have challenged her as much as Ravenclaw, but would she have made more friends? Would the teasing cease?

It was a curious question, but she had no time to muse over it, because she was forcibly brought back to reality when thunderous applause erupted from the Gryffindor table. The last first year had finally been sorted, and the Sorting Ceremony was finally over.

Rapunzel forced a cheerful smile on her face as she joined in with the rest of her House in politely clapping for the last boy as he sat amongst the students with the lion insignias on their chests. The last of the applause eventually died away and Professor North carried the stool, the scroll of first years' names, and the Sorting Hat away. Headmaster Manny Lunar slowly rose to his feet, sending a sudden hush over the crowd. Every student in the school gave the headmaster their full attention and utmost respect.

"Welcome!" he said rather jollily. "Welcome students, old and new, to a new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Applause broke out and he allowed it to ring for a short time, before halting it by raising his hand.

"The staff and I are delighted to have you once again amongst us, where we will be able to engage in another year of learning, that you may grow to become fine wizards and witches in the future."

He glanced over his shoulder at the rest of the staff members seated at the High Table as he spoke, seeking their agreement. Pascal chirped approvingly as the teachers began applauding his words, and Rapunzel couldn't help but smile when she saw Gothel slowly join in on clapping with everyone. Her mother could be rather overprotective at times and even a bit rude occasionally when it came to playfully teasing her, but she was still a good teacher. If it weren't for the fact that Rapunzel wished to learn Medi-Wizardry but was unwilling to drop Care of Magical Creatures – she might not be particularly good at the class, but if she didn't pass it, how else would she learn how to be able to secretly take care of Pascal? – she would continue taking her mother's class. Having grown up learning how to do things for herself the Muggle way in her tower home because of Gothel's lack of magic, it was fascinating to learn about the ordinary things from the perspective of wizards.

At that moment, Pascal suddenly scurried his way off the table surface, and up the sleeve of her black robe so as to sit upon her shoulder.

The blonde lightly giggled as she stroked his head with her finger. "Pascal, if you wanted to get a better view, all you had to do is ask," she said sweetly.

The tiny chameleon technically rolled its gigantic eyes at her, but it did so with an amused smirk on its scaly face, so the girl knew her little pal was only being a bit mischievous with her. With one last giggle to herself, she turned away from Pascal and piped down to continue listening.


"Before we begin our year with feasting, as we traditionally do, I have a few announcements that I must make. To those of you young first years—" he glanced down to the first years, who were mostly seated near the front of each bench "—I must warn you that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off limits to all students. Indeed, some of our older students would do well in remembering that, too."

Hiccup rolled his eyes and tried not to seem completely disinterested as Manny's eyes twinkled directly at a certain dark-haired boy at the Slytherin table, who only smirked and chuckled in amusement at the obviously frustrated redheaded prince sitting right next him. Gossip could have taught him how exactly that Slytherin boy had earned the chiding glance from the headmaster, but Hiccup didn't care. He just wanted these quick notices to be done and over with so that he could eat already. Once he had himself stuffed with dinner, he'd head straight off to the common room. The sooner he got to bed, the sooner he could fall asleep and dream about a life where he could have been a Gryffindor.

"The wizarding village of Hogsmeade is also out of bounds to anyone below third year and does not have a permission slip signed by either a parent or guardian," Manny went on, earning sighs from the floor. "Oh! And I'd also like to take this time to welcome back to the school our former instructor of our Dragon Fighting Class, Professor Gobber the Belch from the Barbaric Archipelago. The class shall be available again for all those who are interested in learning how to fight dragons. Good luck, Professor Gobber."

The scrawny Viking heir immediately perked up at this. He began clapping enthusiastically as he saw how his mentor rose to his feet from his chair at the High Table, and both ends of his long, braided blonde mustache swung a bit in his face as he soaked in the cheers from all the students while he waved enthusiastically to the crowd with his right hand. He couldn't do so with the other one, because in place of a hand was an enormous wooden goblet, as his left hand and even his right leg had been eaten by some Monstrous Nightmare some ways back. Hiccup knew firsthand that his prosthetic hand could be substituted out if need be with interchangeable other prosthetics, such as custom-made tools to use in the forge or even specially made weapons for fighting dragons.

Hiccup couldn't help but chuckle a bit as he heard the obnoxious shouts from the Thornston twins and the burly whooping his cousin was making down at the Gryffindor table. They seemed excited. Fishlegs was clapping so fast and so hard, Hiccup could tell that his face was puffing red, and even Astrid had deemed Gobber's introduction to the school a good enough reason to crack a smile. She was cheering just as hard as any of them were with a fist pumped into the air, and her friend Merida was laughing herself as she watched the Viking girl howl out her praises. Seeing Astrid beam so happily like that made Hiccup smile wistfully. It would be nice if, you know, she might smile that way at him. Just once. Yeah.

But what Headmaster Manny Lunar said next made Hiccup's immediately snap back to him.

"In other news… It is my deepest regret to inform all of you that this year, the Inter-House Quidditch Cup has been cancelled."


"WHAT?!"

The raging shriek Merida made as she leapt to her feet was all but drowned out by the roar of angry voices as just about every die-hard Quidditch player in the school began screaming their protests. Like Merida, they were not only stunned to hear this, they were fuming with red hot fury. Quidditch had to be one of the all-time best things about Hogwarts for those who played the enchanted sport. To hear that it was being canceled like this was an outrage!

"Argh! Son of a half troll, rat eating, munge bucket!" Astrid screamed, her entire face turning as red as her best friends' fiery hair. "What in hel is going on?!"

"That's what I want to know!" Merida snapped in agreement, her blue eyes as cold as ice as she glared venomously at the old, tiny professor. "We live for Quidditch! You have no right to take away our school sport!"

"Bring back Quidditch!"

It was imbecile Snotlout who bellowed this, but his booming shout had the idiot's desired effect. Within seconds, every student second year and older was chanting his three words at the top of their lungs, "Bring back Quidditch! Bring back Quidditch! Bring back—"

An earsplitting bang reminiscent to that of a gunshot reverberated throughout the room, and the Great Hall was instantly silenced.


Elsa nearly screamed as she slammed her gloved hands over her ears. While Quidditch didn't mean all that much to her and she had absolutely no reason to become overly emotional right now unlike everyone else in the school, the cannon blast of noise that Manny had made with his wand to shut everyone up had startled her terribly. She could spy miniscule swirls of frost coating the surface of the table where her hands had been resting only a few seconds ago.

With a nervous gulp to herself, she quickly slid her empty golden plate right over the frost patterns to make sure no one saw them.

"Don't feel… Don't feel!" she whispered to herself harshly.

As soon as she was positive that she was back in control, she turned her attention back to the High Table. The aged professor held his wand upwards towards the ceiling as his eyes slowly scanned the crowd of shocked-into-silence students, restlessly searching for any sign of further protesting to the surprise announcement of Quidditch being cancelled. When he was at last satisfied, he lowered his wand and – to everyone's surprise – smiled wholeheartedly out at the rest of the crowd.

"Now, as I was saying," Manny continued rather brightly, "the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year. This is due to the fact that this year, we at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry have the great honor and privilege of playing host to two fellow magical schools – America's Ilvermorny School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Japan's Mahoutokoro School of Magic – in a legendary event! The Tag-Team Tournament!"


"Tag-Team Tournament? The Tag-Team Tournament?!"

Jack nearly jumped out of his seat when Hans' voice shouted this almost right into his ear. He was completely lost. Most of the Slytherin house seemed to share in his best friend's shock and utter joy, but many from the other tables seemed confused like himself. He didn't understand. Tag-Team Tournament? What was that? A massive game of Tag? Why did Hans look so excited about a massive game of Tag? Wasn't he just spouting curses about Manny cancelling Quidditch?

"Hans?" he questioned, thoroughly puzzled. "What's going on?"

But Hans didn't answer him. The youngest, thirteenth prince of the Southern Isles had seemingly forgotten all about Jack as he joined in those understanding few who were now talking all at once, exclaiming their joy or pressing for more details about the strange competition.

Manny eventually raised his hands for silence, and all the commotion died down. "I assure you all that this is not a joke. Hogwarts will indeed be playing host to the Tag-Team Tournament this year." An awed murmuring threatened to rise, but he hushed it again. "To those of you who do not know what the Tag-Team Tournament is, allow me to explain. The Tag-Team Tournament was initially formed many centuries ago as not only a friendly competition between sets of three magical schools at a time, but also as a singular competition known first as the Triwizard Tournament. In those days, single champions were selected to represent each of the schools, and the three champions would then compete in a series of three enchanted tasks. The schools would alternate in hosting the tournament every few years, as it was almost unanimously agreed upon that the tournament was a wonderful way of establishing friendships and bonds between the young witches and wizards of different countries worldwide… or at least it was, until the death toll became so high that the tournament rules had to be rewritten."

Jack's brows shot upward, and his head snapped around to stare incredulously at Hans. "Death toll?" he muttered, full of alarm.

"Shh!" Hans half-whispered, half-snapped, not daring to tear his eyes away from Manny as he spoke. "Shut up and listen."

The dark-haired boy shot his friend a glare, but did as Hans said and focused back on Headmaster Manny.

"One of the main changes decided upon was the number of representatives per school. Early days' Triwizard Tournaments promoted a very individualistic culture, which only enforced attitudes of arrogance and selfishness amongst its champions. This attitude was believed to have been responsible for the reckless and violent behavior of some competitors and was in part responsible for the high death toll. Hence, it was decided that each school in the tournament would send a group of five students instead, promoting teamwork and brotherhood instead."

"Question – what if the five in that team try to kill each other?" muttered the brunette Slytherin to his friend. "Would that still promote brotherhood, eh?"

"Jack." The redheaded prince sounded vaguely like he was being strangled. "If you don't shut up now, I swear I'll make you and it will hurt."

The Muggle-born boy pouted, but did as he was told.

"The tasks have also been… moderated, with safety measures to ensure that students are unharmed throughout most of the contest. Mind you—" Professor Manny nodded towards those in the hall who were looking disappointed "—the tasks will still be incredibly challenging, intent on testing the character, wits, and strengths of each individual witch or wizard. Also, the number of tasks have increased to five. Five competitors for each school, hence five tasks."

"Yes, yes," he heard Hans hissing under his breath. "Get onto the sign-ups, old man." He was flexing and clenching his fist over and over, making Jack wonder what exactly his buddy was so anxious about.

"And finally, after much discussion across the schools, it had been decided that for safety reasons, only students seventeen-years-old and above may participate—"

The headmaster had not finished his explanation before the dining hall exploded with horrified cries. Jack watched the scene with utter bewilderment as students shot to their feet in indignance, fists pounding on the table. Then he noticed all the blood drain from Hans' face, leaving him pale. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," was the prince's short answer, which really meant 'one of those things that I'm too moody to talk about.'

Jack rolled his eyes while the headmaster struggled to call for attention. If Hans wanted to sulk, let him sulk.

Finally, the noise quietened down and Manny began to speak once again, "Next week there will be a feast to welcome the participating schools. I expect all students here to be nothing but cordial and gracious hosts." For some reason, his gaze flitted to the Slytherin table, focusing down on Jack, who stared back at him in confusion. "May the best witches and wizards win. But for now—" he clapped his hands together "—we shall have a feast for ourselves."

And just like that, the tables were awash with dishes, each holding a steaming dish of something. Plates and utensils appeared before each student, making the new first years gasps in astonishment and the older students smile and shake their heads at their wonder. The aromatic smells prompted all to start filling their plates with the spread, be it the roasted chicken, the beef stew, or the suckling pig. Being a growing boy with a growing appetite, Jack was quick to pile several helpings of food onto his plate, just barely remembering at the last moment to snatch up his fork before attacking it.

As he swallowed down his third bite, however, he noticed that the redheaded prince sitting next to him had not moved. His golden plate remained empty as he stared blankly forward.

"Hey? Your royal highness?" Jack waved a hand in front of his face, but the emerald eyes didn't respond. The country boy sighed. Between the two of them, Hans was the more emotional one, and occasionally, he would have these strange moods where he would go absolutely silent, furrowing his brows while staring intently at the wallpaper.

Like he had decided to do right now.

With another sigh, Jack pointedly nudged his friend in the shoulder. "Alright, what's the matter?"

"I don't expect you to understand," grumbled Hans, still staring intently in space.

"Well, explain to me so that I can understand."

The prince let out a disgruntled huff, sulking about the lack of sympathy. He eventually spoke, albeit grudgingly. "That age limit ruined everything."

"Oh?"

"This was my chance. None of my brothers have ever been in something of this scale." Reluctantly, Hans loaded a few scoops of stew onto his plate, but didn't move to eat it. "It could have been my distinguishing quality, you know? Something that made me—" he poked at the food with his fork, but still didn't eat it "—special."

Ah, that made sense. It had to be pretty tough to stand out when you had a bunch of elder brothers who all had red hair and green eyes, and occasionally liked to pretend that you didn't exist. Jack scrunched up his face in distaste. Pure-bloods. All that inbreeding was bound to have some side effects. "It's just a school tournament. There'll still be Quidditch next year."

"Almost all my brothers were in Quidditch, and champions too!" Hans slammed his fork against the plate, making some of the students around them jump. The redhead prince didn't notice however, choosing to bury his face in his hands. He almost sounded like he was screaming into his palms.

Jack cocked a brow at him. What was so great about this tournament? And was it really worth agonizing over? "You're a wuss."

"And you're incredibly unhelpful," came the muffled reply.

"Look, this Tag-Team… thing – fine, you don't get in it. But hey, there's other places where you can distinguish yourself," Jack tried to comfort him. "Like… electives. Or class. Heck, you can even start preparing for O.W.L.'s if you like—"

"You're right." Hans suddenly straightened up. The whining and pouting had vanished abruptly, replaced by cold determination. He seized the serving spoon for the potatoes and began heaping them on his plate. "There's so much to be done, and it would be prudent not to waste any more time." Head turning swiftly to his friend – "How do you feel like a midnight study-session?"

Jack's jaw dropped in disbelief. "But… it's the first night at school!"

"So? It's never too early to start." He shoved the potatoes and stews in his mouth, chewing and swallowing at speeds beyond anything Jack had ever seen, yet somehow, he appeared perfectly polished while doing so. He then noticed that the other boy was still gawking at him. "Come along, Jack. We don't have all night."

The Muggle-born boy let out an exasperated groan as he continued his meal. As much as he was grateful to have a best friend in a house that reeked hostility, Hans was very trying. Especially right now. Studying on the first night back at school? Seriously?

He made a mental note to try not to make any new friends this year. Either that, or learn how to cast an Unforgivable on himself.