The crossing of the lake passed without incident, as did the handover of the first years from Hagrid to Professor McGonagall, who waited for them outside the Great Hall of Hogwarts. Before they knew it, the nervous first years were standing at the front of the Great Hall, waiting (if not precisely ready) for the Sorting Hat to decide their fates. Rose and Savin, standing together in the clump of students, were growing more nervous by the minute. They had briefly spoken about the Hogwarts houses on the train, discussing what houses they expected to be sorted into. Savin was fairly sure he would be a Slytherin – both of his parents had been, and virtually all the other Silthers who had passed through the school before him. Rose was less certain where she would end up, but both children were relatively sure it wouldn't be Slytherin, based on her muggle heritage. On the train, it hadn't felt like a big deal. Who cared whether they were in the same House? It would be disappointing not to have all their classes together, but they could still study together, and hang out outside of class. They had been so sure it wouldn't be a problem. But in the moment, standing in the Great Hall, where everything was clearly divided by House, from the students at their color-coded tables to the House Points hourglasses they had passed on the way in, the issue was feeling more relevant. The Sorting Hat's song wasn't helping either, as it described the divisions that had torn apart the school's founders, and then went into great detail about the traits that set each House apart. By the time the Hat finished, both Rose and Savin were more nervous than before, and Rose was starting to seriously wonder what would happen if she fainted before putting on the Hat.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward, unrolling a scroll and preparing to read off the names of the first-year students in alphabetical order. For better or worse, Rose Aurum was the first name on the roll. With a last glance back at Savin, who gave her an encouraging smile, Rose walked up to the stool and let McGonagall put the Sorting Hat on her head. For a few minutes there was quiet in the Great Hall, as the Hat deliberated silently, audible only within Rose's mind. After a moment of thought, the Hat mused that Gryffindor seemed most appropriate, to Rose's shock and dismay. She countered with a suggestion, or perhaps a plea, for Ravenclaw. She knew she was smart, curious, interested in learning, surely Ravenclaw was the place for her. She wasn't brave, or outgoing, why was the Hat even bringing up Gryffindor? And besides, Gryffindor had a bitter rivalry with Slytherin, Savin's presumed House, while Ravenclaw was more neutral in the conflict. Ravenclaw was clearly the better choice, wasn't it? The Hat, with what sounded to Rose almost like a sigh, informed her that a choice of Hogwarts House was not about what would be the most convenient, or even about which House aligned best with what she might think of as her dominant traits; it was about what House could best help her achieve her potential. And that, the Sorting Hat announced, was "GRYFFINDOR!"

The last word it spoke not only to Rose, but aloud to those gathered in the Great Hall. McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat from Rose's head as the Great Hall cheered and clapped, more for the first Sorting of the year than for Rose herself. Rose, not entirely sure how she felt about the outcome and not entirely convinced of the Hat's logic, got up from the stool and began walking towards the Gryffindor table. She looked back at Savin, still standing in the crowd of first years, as she went. He gave a small wave and a smile, mouthing "we'll figure it out" when he saw her looking. That made her feel at least a little better. She managed a smile back, then found herself a seat near the end of the Gryffindor table. She sat there throughout the rest of the Sorting, watching a parade of other first years go up, put on the Sorting Hat, then march off to one table or another as everyone in their new House cheered. Most of the first years looked pleased with their Sortings, though a few looked more the way Rose felt, as if they weren't quite sure how they were ending up there and hadn't yet processed how they felt about it. Rose clapped politely for each Sorting, but her focus was always on Savin, waiting in the ever-shrinking group of first years still waiting to be sorted. He would be one of the last students called, saved from being the final student by the presence of two girls whose last names began with T and W respectively.

After what felt like an eternity to Rose and Savin, Professor McGonagall finally called his name. Savin walked up to the stool as he'd seen so many of his new classmates do before him, steeling himself for what he was almost certain the Sorting Hat would say. The Hat settled on his head, falling low over his eyes, and he heard its voice whispering inside his head. Savin, unaware that occasionally the Hat did care what a student wanted, didn't bother trying to persuade it not to put him in Slytherin. There was no point begging for something you knew you couldn't get, all that could possibly accomplish was making you look weak and foolish. The Hat, in turn, didn't bother with much deliberation about where to put him, almost immediately calling out "SLYTHERIN!" for the whole school to hear. Savin sighed slightly as he began to stand, it would have made things easier if the Hat hadn't done that, but he certainly wasn't going to let this keep him from the only person he'd ever met who he thought could be a true friend. As McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat off his head, Savin thought he heard it whisper a few more words, though he wasn't sure they were meant for him to hear: "Perhaps this time things will go differently."

After the Sorting was concluded, Rose and Savin both found the rest of the Welcoming Feast fairly uneventful. They were each made somewhat welcome by the prefects at their respective tables, who tried to make sure to introduce themselves to all the first years. Savin found that he was already acquainted with most of the other Slytherin students to one degree or another. He wouldn't have said he was really friends with any of them, but he had spent plenty of time with the others near his age when their parents had forced them to socialize over the years. Even most of the older students he had seen before at one event or another, though mostly from a distance. A few of the Slytherin first years were already closer friends with each other, but they were all perfectly friendly towards Savin (though the girls he had rebuked on the train were prone to blushing and looking away if he so much as glanced in their direction), and he overall enjoyed the feast. Rose, on the other hand, was mostly keeping to herself. The prefect she had sat down next to had introduced himself at the beginning of the meal, and then mostly ignored her as he got caught up with the beautiful young lady sitting on his other side (who Rose sincerely hoped was his girlfriend considering how they were looking at each other). The rest of her area was filled with first years, many of whom seemed to have already broken into cliques on the train, or maybe had known each other even before then. Rather than struggle to break into conversations she had little interest in, Rose focused mostly on her food, and on looking around the Great Hall and studying its inhabitants.

Rose, in all her gazing about the room, failed to notice that someone at the Head Table was watching her, and Savin as well, and had been all evening. Professor Snape had noticed the pair as soon as they entered the Great Hall, standing close together and whispering to each other as they looked around the room. The Potions Master may have only been a professor for a few years, but he had plenty of experience watching youngsters interact from his own time as a student at Hogwarts, and he knew how incongruous this pairing was. The red-haired boy stood tall and proud, in robes which fit him perfectly, while the girl at his side fidgeted, self-conscious in her slightly faded second hand robes. He looked impressed by the Great Hall, but not overawed like the dark-haired girl by his side. Pureblood and muggleborn, then, Snape thought. How appropriate. As he watched the girl sorted into Gryffindor and the boy into his own House, watched their glances at each other as they joined their rival Houses, Snape was aware of how painfully familiar this situation felt. Had it been only twelve years ago that he himself had sat under that damn Hat and allowed it to dictate the path of his life? The Potions Master did his best to distract himself for the rest of the feast, but his gaze still occasionally returned to the two children on opposite sides of the Great Hall and wondered how long their friendship could possibly last.