Because of previous chapter's shortness, here is chapter two!

Chillaxing on a table in a bowl of food is not very high on my list of things that I like to do in my spare time, even more so when there's spectators about. Especially if those spectators are decked out in medieval sorcery garb. The Cultural Revolution obviously hadn't hit them just yet.

"My food!" A boy with red hair sobbed in a distinctly English accent, looking at the plate that Iggy had landed his ass in. Iggy stood up off of the table, feeling for the edge and trying to wipe the spinach off of his pants.

"Sorry, dude," Iggy said, truly meaning it. "Condolences."

Nudge scraped the stuffing from her elbow, getting off lightly without anything on her clothes. I knew she'd have a fit if her new Forever21 shirt had been ruined by an inconvenient trip to Ye Olde England and I'd never hear the end of it.

Fang stood, taking a cursory glance about the room, and focusing his attention on Gandalf sitting up in his throne-like chair with his legs crossed in a very un-Gandalf sort of way. Fang began to walk down the table, almost strutting like he was on a runway. I half expected him to spontaneously break out into a dance number. (You don't know how long I've wished for that day to come.)

I stood up and followed him, opting to walk on the ground because I wouldn't appreciate it if a bunch of silly American walked all over my table. Nudge tugged on Iggy's hand, directing him towards where Fang and I were. Fang jumped off of the table once he reached the end, the entire room flinching as his boots impacted with the floor. The man in the grey robes (obv. hasn't been promoted to Gandalf the White yet) stood and supported himself with the podium in front of the table of adults. He wasn't all that frail, but one of his hands was black and crumbling. Yikes.

"Maximum Ride," Gandalf said, his voice low and grumbling like a grandfather that constantly talks about World War II no matter how many times you tell him to stop. I tried not to recoil in shock. He knew our names or, at least, mine. That really shouldn't surprise me anymore. A lot of the baddies tend to know us. "I am so glad that you decided to join us for dinner."

"Uh, excuse me?" I scoffed. "We were pulled through the pipes to get here and let me tell you, you guys really need to flush some Drain-O around there because it was a bit of a tight squeeze."

"What my friend was oh-so-politely trying to say is, why are we here?" Iggy flicked me upside the head and I scowled, rubbing my head.

"That is a story for another time," Gandalf said placidly. "For now sit, eat, I will talk to you after the feast."

"I think now would be better," I said, pressing the subject. I really didn't want to sit down with a bunch of pansies in hats and make merry. I'm not the merrymaking type.

Gandalf looked over the adults and made a decision, stepping down from the podium. "Very well, come with me to my office. As for you, students," he turned to the aforementioned pansies. "Continue to eat. Professor McGonagall will dismiss you at the end of dinner."

My eyes connected with Fang's and we nodded. I followed Gandalf out a side door. Either this was a very wise decision and he's the king of Candy Mountain, or we just made a deal with a mass murderer and were going to be in some deep shit. I don't know why I expected the worst, but the universe has never given us the best of luck, so I just hoped that his old man act wasn't just an act and marched into what I thought might be my untimely doom.

It wasn't my untimely doom I was marching too but a less threatening and altogether more laughable fate than I could have even imagined. The boss man led us to a pair of gargoyles and whispered something with a flourish of his good hand, the gargoyles politely stepping out of the way to let us pass. So far, not the strangest thing I've seen, but it definitely gets within my top ten.

"Now, Maximum, we have many things to talk about." He sat behind a large oaken desk in a comfortable-looking leather arm chair. "My name is Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of this school, and this is my office."

And the thing he said so modestly was just an 'office' was a large circular room with all manner of strange and interesting objects, some stationary and some that moved on their own. The ceilings were painted with flamboyant star constellations. The Flock and I ducked as a bird flew overhead and alighted on the stand next to Dumbledore's desk.

"Okay, Rumbleroar," I said warily, crouched in a fighting stance as I approached his desk with the Flock behind me. "What is this place? Why are we here? I want some answers, stat."

"This is the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," Dumbledore said simply. "And you, along with the other members of your Flock, are here because the Ministry of Magic has recently discovered you to have magical properties. Your power is untapped, we are not sure of how much that you possess, but we do know that with that much power you require schooling, which is why you were brought here."

"We're wizards?" I repeated, dumbfounded, my jaw dropping at what had just popped out of Dumbledear's mouth. A serious shit storm was swirling around my brain and in the center of it was a big picture of me saying lolwut?

"Precisely," Dumbledore nodded. "And I would enjoy it if you would consider attending Hogwarts. We have state of the art wards that can prevent any Muggles (non-magical folk) from penetrating the grounds. No one from the School would be able to find you here."

"What about Angel and Gazzy?" Nudge asked. "'Cos they were still at home playing Scrabble with Ella when we left to go and get groceries. Oh no! Now they won't have food for dinner tonight, what will we do? I mean we could just pop back and buy the food and then pop back here, but I dunno if that can of peaches works both ways, yeah? Or we could just-"

"They will be perfectly fine," Dumbledore assured us. "An Auror has charmed the house to repel any hostile intruders and an owl has been sent to inform your mother of your absence."

"Is it the same guy that plucked us out of a supermarket in broad daylight?" I asked skeptically, raising an eyebrow.

"He doesn't always have the best of timing," Dumbledore replied. I raised my eyebrow further. "Or location choices, but he did get you here right on time. Our beginning of term feast has just begun. If you do choose to stay we can have you sorted quickly and then settle you into your rooms."

Fang and I locked gazes again. He didn't want to stay, I could tell. I knew Nudge wanted to, since any sort of excuse to wear excess fabric was something she was required to add to her repertoire. Iggy wouldn't like a new place to map out in his brain, but those guys in the great hall weren't too noisy, so that would be a nice change.

Dumbledore interrupted out silent conference by clearing his throat. "I will add that if you train in magic you will be more powerful than ever before; ready for any threat. Also, we can have Madame Pomfrey research a cure for Iggy's blindness. It will take some time, but a magical cure would work better than a medical one."

The Flock and I returned to our silent conference, Fang still wasn't convinced, but as soon as Iggy clasped my hand from behind I knew that we had to stay, if only to get the cure and then vamoose. I squeezed Iggy's hand in response and he relaxed his tense shoulders.

With one more glance at Fang I answered, "We'll stay. But one one condition. You do find a cure for Iggy's eyes. That's all we're staying for. Once we get that, we're out."

"Wonderful," Dumbledore chuckled and stood from his desk, leading us back out through his office. "But you may soon discover that you enjoy Hogwarts more than you originally thought."

The thing we had to participate in before being allowed to enter into our crapload of studies at Hogwarts was the sorting ceremony starring, yours sincerely, the Sorting Hat. It's a big lump of useless fabric that saw better days in the time of Charlemagne, but when it's put on your head, whammo! It's alive. Creepier than it sounds, really.

It began with the female professor that was appointed to student dismissal before Dumbledore saw us in his office. She was holding a scroll for formality's sake and read out names out one by one.

"An impromptu sorting ceremony will be done for these students who have recently entered Hogwarts from their transfer academy. We will begin with the youngest." Her voice was prim and quiet enough to have everyone's rapt attention but loud enough so she could be heard. She coughed and then began.

"Nudge."

Some of the students narrowed their eyes in confusion at Nudge, who bravely walked up to the stool and sat down, having the hat placed on her head. Being a one-name wonder gets you weird looks considering we don't have a surname to adopt at all except for me.

The thing jumped like someone woke it up in the middle of a nap, sort of shaking sleep out of its eyes if it even had eyes at all. "Is it next year already?" It asked. "Then I'll start my song-"

"Just a second sorting," Professor McGonagall tapped it on the brim.

"Ah...So what do we have here?" It rasped, entering Nudge's mind. She began to shrink underneath the weight of the hat, unaccustomed to the sudden invasion, but I flashed her a smile and she straightened right up. "A bit of tragedy, some remorse. No...more tragedy than I have ever seen. You have suffered at the hands of many, but have stood tall through the wreckage."

"You think? Yeah, I really like how tall I am," Nudge blathered. "A lot of people say that it's a bit of a disadvantage because boys don't date girls taller than them, but then there's all of those supermodels and they're suuuper pretty and I like to think I'm just like them. I mean, Max and Angel always tell me I'm really pretty and-"

"GRYFFINDOR." The hat shouted, interrupting Nudge. A cheer went up from the yellow and red section of tables. Nudge shrugged with a little smile on her lips and skipped down to join the end of the Gryffindor tables, who happily made space for her.

"Iggy," Professor McGonagall called.

Iggy stood up but didn't know which direction the sorting hat and the stool were. He tugged on Fang's sleeve, who whispered in his ear. Iggy nodded and set off towards the chair, feeling the edge of the wood uncertainly and then sitting down. The sorting hat was placed on his head and immediately Iggy blanched to an even whiter shade of pale.

"Incredibly sharp for a boy of your age, but you waste it on mischief," the hat deduced. "Explosives and pyrotechnics are in your nature, but they are not who you truly are. You truly enjoy learning and knowledge. I think you shall be sorted into...Ravenclaw."

The blue and bronze length of tables cheered loudly and Iggy looked relieved, walking down the steps and sitting in an empty seat. I was beginning to get worried. What if we were all separated? How will we be able to talk to each other? Do the different houses even communicate? None of them sit with each other, but that might just be a rule thing. Maybe they are all really good friends outside of classes...Maybe.

"Fang." McGonagall called, holding up the hat for Fang. He practically sauntered like a criminal to the chopping block, giving me way too long of a view of his ass. He knows what that does to me. Damn rogue.

He crossed one leg over his other, resting his right ankle on his left knee in a devil-may-care posture. The hat began to speak.

"You are proved to have much loyalty in you...Fang. What an interesting name. Yes...loyalty, patience, and an inventive mind. All very good qualities in a Hufflepuff."

The mousy-looking table of yellow and black looked ecstatic that Fang was about to become one of theirs.

"Please don't sort me with those losers," Fang muttered, low enough for the hat and few others to hear.

"Said like a true...Slytherin!" The green and silver team jumped out of their seats in victory. "But be careful, Fang. Although you are cunning, the ruthless nature of a Slytherin may not be close to your personality. Make wise choices."

Fang plopped the hat back on its stool without another thought, sending a backwards glance towards me before sitting next to a gaggle of boys with slicked back hair.

"Maximum Ride."

My name rang out around the great hall. No one was eating anymore, all of their attention having been focused on us. The entire hall was silent, save for my combat boots clumping against the stones embedded in the floor. I eventually made it past the stares and to the stool where I took the hat from Professor McGonagall and put it on my head myself. Let me tell you, I was not prepared for this.

Hello, Maximum. The hat's voice appeared inside my head, making me jump like all of those times that Angel spoke in my mind before. Let's get started, shall we?

I felt a probing finger try to access my memories. I resisted squirming like a child..

My, my, we are a tough cookie to crack, aren't you? The teasing edge in its tone should have clued me in that it was up to something, but I realized this when it was already too late. I felt a stabbing pain in my skull as the hat began to sift through my memories, confidential memories, thank you very much.

"Get. Out." I growled, my knuckles turning white as a clenched the edges of my seat.

Very well then. "You have been through the same trials as the others, yet you do not show as much pain to them. You have strength," the hat said. "You are a leader in a world of leaders. Throughout your life you have shown great bravery, but also crippling pride. Do not forget these things, Maximum Ride, even as fame befalls you." The hat paused. "Gryffindor!"

Although the houses probably weren't what everyone was expecting for Nudge and Iggy, I have a plan. Yes, a plan. And the question of the day is...

Do you think Dumbledore will make good on his promise to cure Iggy? Should Iggy even be cured at all?

-Acca