Chapter Four: The Sorting
By the time the train ground to a halt, Steve had mostly forgotten about their encounter with Tony (albeit after a fair bit of grumbling) and they clambered out of the carriage with the rest of the students, leaving their belongings behind to be taken to the castle separately. Much to Bucky's dismay, he'd been forced to retire Winter to her cage for the evening when one of the prefects caught him trying to smuggle her off the train in his hood. The kitten had given him a baleful look and mewled pitifully as he snapped the latch shut, and Bucky had been sorely tempted to just take her anyway, but he really didn't want one of the professors to take custody of his kitten on the first night, so he swallowed his guilt and left an extra little treat with Winter's toy mouse in the cage as an apology.
Bucky and Steve stepped off the train into the crowd of students milling about the platform, the only light coming from some dim lanterns along the path toward Hogsmeade. Bucky could just make out some of the shops in the distance before a call of, "First years, down here," caught his attention. It was hard to tell which direction they were meant to go, so they simply followed the other confused first years down off the platform to where a tall, severe looking man in olive green robes stood waiting, one hand holding a lantern aloft while the other was behind his back as he stood with almost military rigidity. He periodically called for first years to gather around him but said nothing else, surveying their appearances without even a hint of a smile.
As they waited for the rest of the first years to congregate, Bucky looked around at the mixture of nervous and excited faces surrounding them until he spotted one that was familiar. He nudged Steve and jerked his head to the side, leading the way around a few others until they were next to T'Challa where he stood waiting by himself.
"Didn't see you on the train," he called when they were close enough, catching the other boy's gaze. Surprisingly, he rolled his eyes.
"I tried to find you, but I got stopped by some weird robot demonstration and decided it wasn't worth trying to get through the crowd," he explained, sounding about as put out as he looked.
Bucky barked a laugh. "Yeah, Steve and I met the guy with the robot. He's…uh…"
"He's real special," finished Steve, and Bucky figured it was probably as nice as he could be about the whole situation.
T'Challa smirked and nodded his assent. "That would be one word for it."
A slightly awkward silence fell over them before Bucky realized his mistake and hastened to say, "Oh, T'Challa, this is my best friend Steve. Steve, T'Challa's the guy I told you about from Diagon Alley."
"The cat guy?"
"I've been called worse," muttered T'Challa with a shrug. "Nice to meet you, Steve."
"You too, T'Challa. Did your dad let you get the cat?" Steve inquired politely, surprising Bucky with remembering that.
T'Challa's eyes flicked to Bucky momentarily, probably trying to decipher what else he may have told Steve about him, before he answered, "Yes, she's on the train. The prefects wouldn't let me bring her to the feast."
"Same with Winter," Bucky empathized with a tiny shake of his head to answer T'Challa's unspoken question. He really hated hiding anything from Steve, but it was T'Challa's secret to tell. Besides, after literally everyone Bucky knew had kept the fact that Steve was going to Hogwarts from him, he figured it was pretty good payback. He could ask T'Challa later if it was all right to tell Steve anyway.
Before they had a chance to continue their conversation, the man with the lantern called their attention to him and, once they were all silent, announced, "First years, listen up. I'm Professor Phillips, your flying instructor and the Quidditch coach. We're going to be getting to the school a different way, so follow me down this path to the Black Lake. Pay attention—don't need anyone tripping and falling in. When we get down to the boats, you're going to get in and make sure you only have four to a boat. Not five—four. Everybody got that?"
Either everybody got it, or they just really didn't want to say they didn't.
"Excellent. Let's get a move on."
"Friendly guy," Steve muttered under his breath, both Bucky and T'Challa nodding in emphatic agreement as the mass of students turned onto a dirt path that began sloping steadily downward. Above the heads of their classmates, Bucky could see the reflection of the moon off what he assumed was the Black Lake and Hogwarts on a mountain in the distance beyond it. The sight struck him with awe, and he felt his mouth hanging open as he looked at the towering spires and grand arches leading inside the castle. There were a few lights on in the windows here and there, but otherwise the castle was mostly dark except for the enormous windows toward the back overlooking the lake, where Bucky assumed the feast must be held. The closer they got to the lake, the more his excitement grew, and he shared a grin with Steve before focusing back on not falling into the water as they approached.
Dozens of boats lined the shore with a lantern hung at the front of each, but there were no oars or propellers. Some of the students marveled at that as they stepped inside, but Bucky figured they must be Muggle-born; a number of students were just hopping in without a thought to how the boat would get to the castle, which meant they were already aware of the magic at work. It was actually sort of funny to watch, and Bucky wondered what it must be like to go from living the life of a Muggle to taking a train to a town that Muggles couldn't see in order to go to a school of magic held in a castle Muggles also couldn't see.
Probably feels like they're going crazy.
Bucky, T'Challa, and Steve clambered into the first uninhabited boat they could find, watching everyone else doing the same around them. A few stragglers were wandering from boat to boat trying to find someone to sit with, and a dark-skinned boy with close-cropped hair and a kind smile jogged up to theirs a minute or two after they'd gotten situated, slightly out of breath.
"Mind if I join you guys?" he asked, and Steve automatically made room beside him as the kid climbed aboard. He introduced himself after he'd caught his breath as Sam Wilson, and they each introduced themselves in turn. "So, uh… How exactly does this thing work?"
Must be Muggle-born, Bucky thought sympathetically. "Magic," he shrugged as if that should explain everything.
Sam raised his eyebrows and looked over the edge of the boat at the water, which was as black as the lake's name in the darkness around them. "Magic," he repeated skeptically, frowning in confusion.
"On your left," Steve told him, pointing over his shoulder to where some of the other boats had already begun propelling themselves. Sam's mouth dropped open before, half a second later, their boat jerked forward as if pulled by an invisible rope and they began the smooth trip over the lake toward the castle.
"Magic," Sam breathed, grinning like a maniac. The other boys giggled at his wonderment before turning back to watch as the castle loomed over them the nearer they drew. Bucky had to admit, even though the magic of the place didn't really surprise him, everything was just as impressive as his mom told him it would be.
The castle vanished as they passed through vines of ivy hanging down from the cliffs above them, entering a dark tunnel. The only lights were the ones on their boats, each one a tiny beacon in the otherwise pitch black void around them. Bucky assumed they must be underneath the castle as they traveled through the tunnel, and a few minutes later the boats pulled into an underground cave with a rocky outcropping to their right. The boats ran aground on the rocks, waiting steadily as they all hopped out onto dry land. (Bucky, of course, stepped right into the chilly water and felt it soak through his shoe and the leg of his robes as Steve snorted at his misfortune.)
Professor Phillips was already waiting for them, lantern in hand, in the opening of a passageway. His expression plainly said he didn't want to be kept waiting, so all the students took the hint and hastened after him as he turned and led them through the channel. They emerged in an enormous, grassy courtyard right outside the walls of the castle, and there was more than one gasp of anticipation as Professor Phillips conducted them up a set of stone steps to the main entrance.
The huge front door was already open, the still warm late summer air following them into the brightly lit entrance hall. Whispers of excitement and dozens of footsteps echoed throughout the hall, and they came to a halt with a grand staircase ahead and yet another enormous doorway to the right, presumably the Great Hall if the clamor of voices issuing out was anything to go by.
Standing ramrod straight in front of the doors, Professor Phillips placed his lantern on the stone floor (it went out immediately after being released, because magic!) and surveyed them all with the same scrutinizing glower he'd worn since they'd left the station. The whispers ceased almost immediately and, a moment later, he strolled back and forth in front of them.
"Once you step through these doors, you'll go to the head of the Great Hall to be sorted into your houses. Your house will not change while you are here at Hogwarts. There are four you might be sorted into: Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw. Your house will be based on who you are, not what magical abilities you might already have, and they don't dictate how you'll do here. Every Wizarding school puts out great witches and wizards, but Hogwarts stands out above them all because we have the best." He paused momentarily, flicking his eyes throughout the crowd with a stony expression on his face. "And they are gonna get better. Much better."
Bucky and Steve exchanged a glance, both trying as hard as they could not to laugh and ruin the somber atmosphere.
"Now," Phillips continued once he'd apparently decided they were sufficiently intimidated, "once you step through these doors, I will escort you to the front of the hall where Professor May will have you try on the Sorting Hat. There are four tables, one for each house. Once you're sorted, you'll join your house for the feast. Any questions?"
Silence.
"Good."
As soon as Phillips's back was turned, Steve leaned up on his toes to whisper, "Still thinking of playing Quidditch, Buck?"
"Aw, hell yeah," he grinned back. Never let it be said he wasn't up for a challenge.
Steve simply rolled his eyes, both falling silent again as they followed the line into the Great Hall. Bucky promptly felt his jaw not quite hit the floor, but get as close as it possibly could. The room was gigantic, with four long tables packed with students on either side of them. Candles hovered in the air over their heads, lighting the assembly along with the braziers lining the stone walls on all sides. Straight ahead, Bucky could see through the other students that there was another table settled against the far wall where all the professors were standing, watching the first years make their way down the long center aisle. Most impressive, however, was what he discovered when Steve nudged him with an elbow and pointed skywards: the ceiling was completely invisible, hidden behind the most realistic representation of the night sky Bucky had ever seen. It reminded him of looking up at the little magical stars Sarah had enchanted across Steve's ceiling, only if he didn't know that they were in an enclosed castle, he would have sworn the Great Hall had no roof at all.
As they moved further down the aisle, they saw that there were empty spaces left at the heads of the four house tables, most likely so that the first years had somewhere to sit when they joined the house they'd call home for the next seven years. All eyes were on them, some faces smiling kindly while others giggled and whispered as they passed. Bucky caught a few familiar ones and grinned at Peggy where she sat at the Slytherin table; he also spotted Daniel in his Gryffindor robes, and Pepper at the Ravenclaw table. It was admittedly rather unnerving to be the center of attention like this, so he hoped the Sorting Ceremony would be quick.
The line stuttered to a sudden stop as the front reached the head of the Great Hall, and Phillips moved to join the rest of the staff at the High Table. Another witch stood before them with a stool and old black hat sitting innocuously beside her. Professor May appeared to be of Asian heritage and surveyed them with skepticism similar to Phillips's, but her expression was less harsh when she announced, "You will be called alphabetically. When you hear your name, step up to the stool and I will place the Sorting Hat on your head. After it has made its decision, you will join the rest of your house."
Swallowing hard, Bucky took a deep, nervous breath. His mother had told him a lot about the different houses when he'd asked about the Sorting, and she had mentioned that she was sorted into Gryffindor when she went to Hogwarts. He supposed that made sense: she was known at the Ministry for being dedicated to justice and the greater good, which was apparently a big Gryffindor trait. She never pressured him to be part of that house, though, and both his parents had made it infinitely clear that it didn't matter where he ended up—they would be proud of him regardless.
"No one house is any better than the others," his mother had explained to him. "You might hear a lot of evidence to the contrary, though. There has always been rivalry between the houses."
So Bucky really wasn't concerned about what house he was sorted into, but he and Steve had discussed it at length on the train and had always planned to be in the same one. Now, he supposed, they'd just have to keep their fingers crossed.
A few students were called and sorted before Professor May's voice rang out, "Barnes, James."
"Good luck," whispered Steve beside him, and Bucky felt T'Challa pat his shoulder from behind before he waded through the students ahead of him and up to the stool.
Professor May's expression didn't change as he took a seat and, a moment later, felt the old hat settle upon his head. He couldn't help feeling like there was something he should be doing, but all he could manage was to stare nervously out over the assembled students all around the Great Hall, waiting to hear his fate. The other first years had just sat there for a few seconds before the hat called out what house they would be part of, so it made him jump slightly when that voice was suddenly inside his head.
"Well, then," it sighed thoughtfully, as though it couldn't care less which house he ended up in. "There's plenty of bravery and courage, to be sure, but also some cunning and cleverness, I see. Hmm…"
Bucky gulped, biting his lip. Was he supposed to say something back, or would that be crazy?
"You're in a school of magic—we're all a bit crazy here," the hat chuckled at his unspoken thought, still apparently only talking to him since no one else reacted. "Now let's see… You're a trustworthy friend and loyal to a fault, and you're willing to do whatever it takes to make sure those closest to you are safe. That settles that, Barnes. Good luck in—"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat's voice suddenly rang out to the rest of the school.
A deafening cheer went up from a table full of students wearing yellow and black as Professor May removed the hat from his head and he hopped down, shooting Steve and T'Challa a half-excited, half-relieved smile on his way past. As soon as he was close enough, some of the older Hufflepuffs patted him on the back and made room for him to sit. He ended up next to a girl who didn't look much older than him, with light brown hair and an infectious grin.
"The name's Angie," she introduced herself earnestly, throwing an arm around his shoulders and giving him a quick squeeze. "You're gonna love Hufflepuff—best house ever."
All he could do was nod in the face of her excitement, missing the next student in line before turning back to watch a blond boy named "Barton, Clint" hop up onto the stool with an air of nonchalance none of the other first years had. Bucky wasn't sure if it was confidence or if he just didn't care.
It took less than five seconds for the hat to declare him a Hufflepuff, and Bucky decided he definitely just didn't give a crap when he strolled over to the table and threw himself down grumpily next to Bucky.
He almost said hi until Clint glared down at his plate and grunted, "D'you think they'll have pizza?"
Then all he could do was laugh.
"Charles, Luke."
To Bucky's great confusion, T'Challa stepped away from where he'd been standing next to Steve and approached the stool. Their eyes met for just a brief moment, but T'Challa's expression didn't betray anything. Resolving to ask later, Bucky clapped with the rest of the room when the hat called out, "Slytherin!"
The Slytherin table was right behind where Bucky was sitting, and he leaned over as T'Challa passed to ask in a hushed tone, "Luke?"
"Blame my father," muttered T'Challa, who mostly ignored the cheers of his fellow Slytherins and sat as close to Bucky as he could at his own table. "He didn't want to make it obvious."
Bucky frowned in thought a moment before he realized what T'Challa meant: if he was going to pretend he wasn't a prince, it would probably be better if he went by a name that no one would recognize.
After that, Jane Foster was sorted into Ravenclaw, and Professor May continued running down the list. Hufflepuff gained a few more faces, including a girl named Darcy who had way more energy than Bucky had ever seen and talked a mile a minute. By the time they made it to Steve, Bucky was nearly bouncing in anxious anticipation while he watched his best friend ascend to the stool and waited.
And waited.
And waited.
What's taking so long? he wondered silently, frowning. A few students had been up there longer while the hat deliberated over which house to put them in, but Steve was by far the longest. At one point, he looked over at the Hufflepuff table and met Bucky's eyes, answering his puzzled expression with a tiny, nearly imperceptible shrug of one shoulder. Even the teachers, who had remained stoically still this whole time, were beginning to shift impatiently in their seats.
Another long minute that felt like an eternity passed before the brim of the hat lifted again and shouted out, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Bucky made an admirable effort not to whine in frustration, but he couldn't help the disappointed groan that escaped him as the red-and-gold table erupted into applause and Steve moved to join them, shooting an equally disappointed glance in Bucky's direction.
The Sorting finished relatively quickly after that, finally ending with Sam Wilson joining Hufflepuff before the teacher at the very center of the table, a black man with an eye patch and black leather robes, got to his feet. He made for an impressively intimidating figure and the students fell quiet immediately, all eyes on him. There was a moment of silence where the professor's head turned from side to side, his one good eye taking in all the students as they watched him. Bucky realized that, based on Peggy and Daniel's descriptions earlier, this was the famous Headmaster Fury.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, first years," he declared after a long minute had elapsed. "And welcome back, everyone else. Couple of announcements before we eat. First years, be advised: the Forbidden Forest at the edge of the grounds is off limits unless accompanied by a teacher. No exceptions unless you feel like explaining to your parents why it was worth getting expelled. First years, second years, and anyone who doesn't turn in their permission slip to their Head of House are not permitted to go into Hogsmeade. If you have a permission slip, notices will be placed in your house common rooms with dates when you will be allowed to go. Do not try sneaking out of the castle—it will not. End. Well."
It was official: Fury's glare was more terrifying with one eye than most people managed with two.
He went on to outline the school curfew for the first years' benefit and indicate that any questions about daily schedules and protocol could be directed to prefects or Heads of House, who he introduced briefly. The Hufflepuff Head of House, Professor Coulson, gave them a warm smile far different from any of the other professors who had addressed the first years thus far.
Maybe they're not all scary as hell.
Finally, after a few more announcements regarding changes in staff, Professor Fury took a deep breath and shrugged. "Now that that's out of the way, let's eat."
It felt a bit anticlimactic until Bucky looked back at the gilded plate in front of him to see that there were enormous dishes of all kinds of foods laid out before them on the table that hadn't been there just moments ago. A collective groan of appreciation rolled through the room before the atmosphere was filled with the sounds of students and cutlery and eating and chatter.
As Bucky studied the food in front of him, he couldn't help breathing a sigh of relief when he saw the fare wasn't nearly as British as his mother had told him it used to be. She'd reminisced a few days ago about the puddings and pies and other traditional British meals she'd had there (and how it was really unfortunate that Americans don't eat that way, you know, George—honestly, don't they have any taste?), but the few times she'd tried to make them herself, Bucky had to admit he really wasn't a fan. His father hadn't been either, and Bucky distinctly remembered him muttering something under his breath once about the fact that anyone who could actually stomach blood pudding couldn't be trusted.
Needless to say, when his mom told him about the sort of dishes they served at Hogwarts, he wasn't sure how he was going to survive seven years having to eat that stuff. The problem, it seemed, had already been solved. While there were some very obviously traditional dishes set out before them, there were also the infinitely better ones: fried chicken, macaroni and cheese, and even pizza.
Clint was ecstatic beside him, helping himself to four slices and digging into them with gusto.
Bucky shook his head with a laugh and reached for the macaroni, serving himself before reluctantly tossing a few florets of broccoli to the side so that he could tell his mom he wasn't eating completely badly. As they ate, he fell into conversation with Sam, who had taken the seat across from him and looked as though he might just cry at the sight of some much more American food on the table.
When they mentioned it, Angie turned and put down her fork for a second to advise them, "They get a lot of American kids these days, so the gross stuff got tossed off the menu."
Narrowing his eyes at her accent, Bucky guessed, "You from New York?"
"Yup, Manhattan born and bred," she boasted, taking a sip of pumpkin juice. "What about you two?"
"Washington, D.C.," answered Sam at the same time Bucky replied, "Brooklyn."
That got them started talking about their Muggle school experiences, and Angie tutted at Sam when he called them No-Majs. "Gonna want to get used to calling them Muggles, D.C. It's all the rage around here."
"Where did that word even come from?" he exclaimed in frustration, throwing up his hands. "No-Maj makes way more sense."
Snorting, Bucky scoffed, "How does that make more sense?"
Sam raised his eyebrows like it should be obvious. "No-Maj? No magic?"
Bucky and Angie exchanged a glance and shrugged, Angie pointing out, "Muggle's just more fun to say. C'mon, get with the program like Brooklyn over here."
"Plus," argued Bucky reasonably around a mouthful of potato, "Y'said you're a No-Maj-born. 'S easier t'just say Muggle-born."
Scrunching his face up in thought, Sam shrugged begrudgingly and poked at his dinner in defeat. "Okay, it is easier…"
They laughed lightly at his expression before tucking back into their food, and Bucky listened to Angie and a couple of the older girls further up the table talking about the professors for a while in silence. The dinner foods had been replaced by desserts before long (he'd disappointedly limited himself to just one brownie, but he was so stuffed from the rest of dinner he knew he'd be sick if he tried to eat more than that), and there was more than one sleepy face around the table by the time they were finished eating. Clint, on the other hand, looked more alert than he had during the Sorting and was observing the rest of the Great Hall with eyes like a hawk.
Sam caught Bucky's gaze as they watched before cautiously asking, "You okay, dude?"
Clint jumped a little in his seat and surveyed Sam, his face oddly blank for a moment, before shrugging and taking yet another bite of his ice cream sundae. (Bucky had discreetly watched him down four slices of pizza, seven chicken wings, a plate of macaroni, two mince pies, nearly half a chocolate trifle, and now he was on his second sundae with no sign of stopping in sight.)
"Just taking it all in, man," he mumbled around his food. "Both my parents are…Muggles, that's the word, right?" Bucky nodded and he continued, "So yeah, little different from a cafeteria, y'know what I mean?"
Sam's head bobbed up and down sympathetically. "I know the feeling. Must not come as much of a shock to Barnes, though, right?"
"Not really," admitted Bucky, rubbing the back of his neck under their combined scrutiny. "My mom went here, so she kinda already told me a bunch of stuff before."
"Cheater," declared Clint without heat. He dug his spoon as far as it would go into his ice cream cup and frowned when all he got was a little dab of chocolate syrup for his trouble. "Rest of us gotta start from scratch."
Scoffing, Bucky argued, "We weren't allowed to use magic before either, so it's not that much different."
"Speaking of," intruded Darcy from where she sat on Sam's other side. She'd been engaged in conversation (or rather, monopolizing the conversation) with a few other first years down at the far end of the table but perked up when she heard magic mentioned. "Anyone else glad pissy-face Phillips isn't actually teaching us any? I mean, it would kinda be sorta fun to see him do something like Charms—big dude teaching a bunch of kids to make things float 'n stuff, tell me that wouldn't be funny as hell—but he'd probably curse you if you got it wrong."
Silently, Bucky thought he might just agree with her there but didn't answer as Sam retorted, "The teachers wouldn't be allowed to do that. …Would they?" he added uncertainly to Bucky, who just shrugged.
"I mean, you'd think."
Clint laughed a little. "Fury looks like he'd let it happen if you deserved it."
"He'd just turn a blind eye," snorted Darcy, sending them into fits of giggles.
Bucky happened to glance up at the High Table at that moment, the smile melting off his face as he saw Professor Fury's visible eye focused right on them. Noticing he had Bucky's attention, Fury lifted an eyebrow in one of the most terrifyingly unimpressed expressions he'd ever seen—and he'd grown up with his mother, after all. Bucky turned to stare guiltily down at his empty plate, clearing his throat slightly.
"So…anyone else into Quidditch?" he weakly changed the subject, Clint and Darcy latching right on to the new topic while Sam looked on with a slight frown on his face. Once they explained the sport to him, he joined in the conversation here and there, usually to ask a question, and Bucky regaled the three Muggle-borns with a story about when his mom had gotten them tickets to the World Cup the summer they'd moved to London. All three were suitably impressed and excited for the Hogwarts season to start, although Darcy had a slightly different reason than the rest of them—
"Hot boys on broomsticks? Count me in!"
—and the three boys groaned in unison just as the food vanished off the table in front of them, the cutlery and dishware suddenly as clean as they had been when they'd entered the Great Hall. As if on cue, Professor Fury rose to his feet at the High Table and silence fell again. Bucky tried very hard not to meet his gaze.
"Now that we're all fed, I'd like to remind everyone to be ready bright and early for classes first thing Monday morning," he announced, somehow managing to make it sound like a threat. Sam swallowed nervously, but Clint just rolled his eyes and took a bite of the brownie he'd spirited away right before the food had disappeared. "Remember that breakfast will be served before your classes for the day. First years, your houses eat together for feasts, but otherwise you can move to other tables to sit with your classmates in the other houses. Choose wisely. Prefects, if you'd show the rest of your houses to their dormitories."
Without further ado, the benches at each house table scraped loudly against the stone floor as hundreds of students rushed to their feet, obviously not wanting to attract Professor Fury's ire for not moving fast enough. Bucky followed Angie's lead as the Hufflepuff prefects down at the end of the table by the doors to the Great Hall began to usher everyone out into the entrance hall.
T'Challa fell in beside him where he moved after his fellow Slytherins, and Bucky side-eyed him warily before asking, "So…do I call you Luke?"
"In public," sighed T'Challa like he'd already had enough of the alias. "When there's no one around, you can call me by my name."
"What was the point of broadening your horizons if you can't even tell people who you are?" whispered Bucky, echoing T'Challa's words from that day in Diagon Alley. T'Challa snorted a laugh.
"I would get special treatment if people knew. My father wanted to avoid that," he breathed back, both watching to make sure no one was listening in.
"Does Fury know?"
T'Challa nodded, and both boys looked ahead to see the lines splitting up, the Slytherins heading for the grand staircase. "He had to, but none of the other professors know."
They didn't have time to say anything else before their paths diverged, muttering a quick goodbye before the Slytherins moved down the stairs and Bucky followed the Hufflepuffs through a door to the right of the Great Hall. The throng of students made its way down a flight of steps and emerged in a stone corridor lined with torches and paintings depicting mostly food.
Bucky laughed when Clint groaned beside him. "Aw, hungry…"
"You just ate enough to sink a ship!" exclaimed Sam incredulously on his other side. Clint flipped them both off as they passed all the portraits and came to a halt in front of a small, dark recess where piles of barrels were stacked against the wall. One of the prefects, a girl with a surly expression and dark hair cropped close to her head like a buzz cut, turned to look at the students assembled.
"The Hufflepuff common room and dormitories are through here," she informed them in an impassive tone. "You can't just walk in. You have to tap the right barrel in the right way or you'll end up covered in vinegar—I don't suggest trying it, you'll reek for days."
Bucky blinked, glancing at Sam to see the same gobsmacked expression on his face.
The prefect went on to show them how to tap the middle barrel of the second row in the correct rhythm (Helga Hufflepuff's name) and warned them to never tell students from other houses before the wall of barrels turned translucent before them. She walked right through the wall, leading the way up a sloping tunnel into a large round room with a low ceiling. There were tapestries everywhere in yellow and black, the house colors, and images of badgers here and there on the house sigil. Tables and comfortable plush couches were scattered about the common room with an enormous fireplace on the far end, a portrait of who Bucky assumed was Helga Hufflepuff herself toasting them from over the mantel. There were small circular windows lining the room with two round doors to match, and plants grew here and there on windowsills and along the wall. Even though it was dark outside the windows, the room exuded warmth and light in a cozy, homey way.
"You can come to the common room between classes or after curfew," explained the boy prefect, a towering figure with surprisingly large muscles for his apparent age. He had a steely glint in his eyes and an accent Bucky thought might be Russian, but he was much warmer than the girl prefect, who stood by with her arms folded as she watched the proceedings. "The doors over there lead to the dormitories. All of your belongings should already be there waiting for you."
They went on to explain where they could find the restrooms and shower, and then the students were left to their own devices. The returning students (who were already well aware of how all this worked) had entered and headed for the dormitories while the first years were listening to instructions, so the common room was fairly empty by the time the prefects retired and the boys and girls split up to go to their separate dormitories. Bucky pushed open the boys' door to see a corridor lined with other doors, each labeled with a year number. Bucky, Sam, and Clint were the only first year boys, so they had the dormitory to themselves.
It looked fairly similar to the common room: round with small circular windows set high into the walls. There were wooden beds for each of them, plus a couple of extras, all covered with bright yellow and black patchwork quilts. There was a small bedside table and wardrobe on the wall next to each bed, and their trunks were indeed waiting for them.
Bucky immediately made a beeline for Winter's cage, popping the latch and crouching down to see the kitten's reproachful eyes glaring out at him as she nibbled on her stuffed mouse toy.
"Come on, don't look at me like that," he chuckled, poking a finger inside the cage for her to sniff. Winter very primly ignored it for a long moment before apparently deciding that ten seconds of being ignored was a good enough punishment and then swatted a paw at his hand. Grinning, Bucky reached inside and plucked her out; she'd grown a bit in the two months since his dad had bought her, but she was still on the small side and fit easily in two palms. She abandoned her mouse in the cage and pawed her way up Bucky's chest before nestling in her favorite spot just under his jaw.
When he turned back around, Sam was running his fingers through the feathers of a handsome black owl and Clint was glaring unabashedly at the ball of fur cuddled up to Bucky's chest.
Lifting an eyebrow in challenge, Bucky grunted, "What?"
Clint just grumbled slightly before opening his trunk and muttering, "Cats, man."
Guess he's a dog person.
"You'll live," Bucky smirked, glancing over at Sam in silent inquiry. The latter shrugged.
"Long as she doesn't eat Redwing, we're good."
"No problems there."
Grinning, Sam grabbed his pajamas and headed out the door to find the lavatory while Bucky and Clint changed in silence, the day finally catching up with them. Clint occasionally shot a distrustful glance at Winter, and as if sensing his discomfort, she just stared at him with her big pinkish-orange eyes as he moved around the room. Once he was settled in bed, she hopped off Bucky's quilt where he'd left her and curiously moved to Clint's side of the room, clawing lightly at the edge of his bed until the scratching drew his attention and he leaned over to watch her.
"What d'you want, cat?" he grumbled, squinting down at her.
She just meowed.
Snorting, Bucky took pity on both of them and offered, "You can pick her up." He then threw himself down on his bed and watched as Clint reached out a wary hand and plucked her from the floor, holding her at arm's length.
Winter batted a paw at his face and meowed derisively. If she could speak, Bucky was positive she'd be saying, "You scared?"
Clint appeared to feel the same and, visibly steeling himself, brought her closer until she managed to lean forward and lick a stripe up his nose playfully.
"Eurgh!" groaned Clint, although he didn't move to pull her away. "Cats have the worst tongues, man!"
Bucky just laughed, observing the interaction. After a minute with no pets or snuggles, Winter fidgeted enough in Clint's hands for him to drop her to the bedspread and dashed back to Bucky's bed. Sam reentered the room just as Bucky plopped her down on the pillow beside his head, frowning at the way Clint was rubbing his nose.
"Do I wanna know?" he asked with a sigh, heading back to his own bed.
"Nah," Bucky snorted. "Clint just made a new best friend, that's all."
"Shut it, Barnes!"
"Make me, Barton!"
"I'm rooming with a couple'a babies," mumbled Sam, climbing into bed and blowing out the candle on his bedside table.
The three settled in for the night after that, but it was a while before Bucky could get to sleep. He sat up long after the other two had drifted off, scratching Winter's head lightly as she nuzzled into the side of his face from her perch at the corner of his pillow. He just couldn't believe he was here, and even though it would have been nice to be in the same house as Steve, they were both at Hogwarts together just like they'd wanted.
Tomorrow was the start of a new adventure, and when Bucky eventually nodded off in the early hours of the morning, he couldn't be more excited.
A/N: I know there's a lot of debate in the fandom as to where everyone would be Sorted-these are the houses I thought suited them best. (I had a big explanation on AO3 about why I felt that way, but it would sort of break FFNET's guidelines on author's notes to post it here, so I'm afraid I won't be able to do that!) I hope you like them!