...

the truth is often concealed.
_

"Stef!"

Stef jolts into awareness, looking at Caleb with a glare.

Caleb laughs sheepishly. "Ah, sorry. We'll be there in a few minutes. You should change."

Stef blinks as she realizes that the others had already donned their uniforms. She shrugs before taking her jacket off and pulling her long robes over top. "Hey, Brianna, wanna go together? Us girls gotta stick together."

"Holy-! Stef, you're a friggin' girl!?" screeches Caleb. Stef winces at the high pitch.

"Uh, yeah," Stef states in a duh voice. "You're fucking loud."

"Language," reprimands London.

"I-I-I..." Brianna stammers, slightly flushed. "I had m-mistaken you for a boy..."

Caleb huffs. "A little warning would've been nice," he mutters bitterly, stuffing his sweets into his pockets.


The group steps out of the train, being shoved around by the mass amount of students trying to get off the train. They shivered at the cool air, as they attempted to keep steady in the sea of heads.

"Firs' years! Fir's years over here!" A bellowing voice was calling.

London, narrowing his eyes at the loud crowd, grabs the other three. "Stay close," he hisses as he lets go of them. "Stay close, and pay attention," the boy repeats.

Stef pulls her arm away. "Fine, fine, no need to get handsy," she mutters, irritated.

"Firs' years, follow me!"

Caleb gapes as he sees the absurdly large man. "Half-giant," he breathes as he lays eyes on the man who was almost twelve feet tall, easily twice the size of almost everyone.

Stef shoots the blonde a strange look when she feels some grab her hand. She looks back to see that Brianna had taken her hand.

"S-Sorry," the curly-haired girl stutters, "I-I'm j-just nervous..." She begins to pull away when Stef squeezes her hand.

"It's fine."

"C' mon! Follow me- any more firs' years? Mind yer step now, follow me!" The large man leads them down a shady, narrow path.

The trees around them were so thick, it almost seems as if two walls of darkness were closing in on them. Brianna shuddered as she wondered what might be hiding in there. Hardly anyone spoke, only the sound of footsteps and twigs breaking.

"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," the hairy man says, "Jus' round this bend here."

There was a chorus of 'Oooh' as the narrow path opened into a large black lake. On the other side of the lack, perched atop a mountain, was a beautiful and vast fortress, standing tall against the clear night sky.

"No more'n four to a boat!" instructs their guide, gesturing to the fleet of boats resting against the shore.

London immediately pulls Caleb, Brianna, and Stef to their own boat, getting settled quickly.

"Quit bossing us around," snaps Stef.

London refuses to acknowledge her. She rolls her eyes.

"Everyone in?" the guide shouts. "Alright, then- FORWARD!"

And so, all the boats set off at once, sailing smoothly across the calm waters.

"Gosh, I'm excited," blurts Caleb energetically. "I wonder what house I'll be in...maybe Hufflepuff?"

"I doubt I would ever be able to get into Gryffindor," confesses Brianna. "I'm scared of a lot of things. I'm not brave at all."

"Bravery is not the absence of fear, rather, it's the courage to continue despite it," states London absentmindedly, as he looks to the sky.

"That's insightful," comments Stef.

"I probably read it somewhere."

"Hm, Ravenclaw for this one," the green-haired Latina teases. "Anyways, I don't know. I want to get into Hufflepuff, but I don't think hardworking and loyal suits me," she ponders. "Maybe Gryffindor? I guess I'll find out."

"Heads down!" yells the large man, as they approach a cliff.

The group obeys, except for London who simply raises a brow. "He's a half-giant," he states dryly. "We aren't as tall as him. He's the only one big enough to get hit by it."

They drifted into a dark tunnel, that seems to have been underneath the castle, and end up at an underground harbour of sorts, where they part from the boats. They then made their way to a door, where the man knocked thrice.

The door swings open, and a tall, stern witch in green robes stood at the opening.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

The Professor then showed them to a small, empty chamber. They cramped in together, uncomfortably close. Brianna brushed her fingers against Stef's hand in question before the taller girl holds the other's hand in a strong grip.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," says Professor McGonagall, though her tone wasn't all that welcoming. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points."

London gives Stef a sharp look. The girl sticks her tongue out.

"At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Brianna nervously fidgets with her hair.

Stef leans towards the dark-haired girl. "You look fine," she whispers, "so quit worrying."

"I shall return when we are ready for," the Professor states. "Please wait quietly."

The moment the door closes behind her, Caleb whips around. "I think this is some sort of test," he states.

"What?" blurts Brianna.

"I agree, although I don't think 'test' is an accurate word," speculates London. "That would assume that we could pass. No, they're judging us. Seeing how we interact."

"They're trying to figure out who the troublemakers might be," realizes Stef.

Suddenly, a plethora of ghosts begin flying through the walls, making Brianna and several others scream in terror.

they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

"I could ask you the same thing," replies London calmly. Several people look at him like he's insane. "We're first, waiting for Professor McGonagall to fetch. Now, I do believe that you are frightening some of my fellow students. Several people here are very new to ghosts and the magical world in general."

"Ah, new students!" the Friar says, delighted, as he smiles brightly at the students. "About to be sorted, from what you were saying, young man!"

A few people nodded, still shellshocked.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" the monk states happily. "My old house, you know!"

"Move along now," someone says sharply. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

It was Professor McGonagall. One by one, the ghosts obeyed, disappearing through the walls.

"Now, form a line and follow me," she instructed sternly.


"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

"What..." began Brianna.

"The..." Caleb blanches.

"Absolute fuck?!" Stef gawked.

London shot them a strange look.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

"We-We have t-to sit in front of the whole school," Brianna gasped. She felt as if someone was sitting on her chest. "I-I can't do that."

Someone began rubbing her back, "Hey... breathe. In and out, just like that," they whisper soothingly. "Deep breathes." They keep repeating soothing comments, until she was calm. Brianna realizes it was London.

"She okay?" Stef asks London, who nods.

"Yes. Please make sure she keeps calm and breathing," he informs her.

Brianna feels her face heat up. Did she seriously just do that in public? She felt like a little kid.

"Dempsey, Caleb!" Professor McGonagall calls.

Caleb freezes.

Stef pats his back encouragingly. "Your house will be great!" she pauses. "Unless it's Slytherin."

"How reassuring," he quips back sarcastically.

Caleb feels his body choppily moving to the stool. As the hat flops over his eyes, he hears a voice.

"Oh? Caleb Dempsey, I remember your father. How could I forget him, after all he's accomplished?"

Shut up. Don't you dare talk about that man, or I will end you. The blond feels his heart stutter. You don't know anything.

"His mind was such an interesting place... all the fantasies in his head... he certainly did have a strange fascination with blood, even back then" The hat stops. "Based on that alone, I wouldn't need your memories to figure out what he's done—or is going to do with your mother—"

He won't touch her. Caleb feels his body heating up. His fists we clench on the stool, knuckles white.

"Oh? You're so sure, even with what he said? Quite an ambitious goal you have... perhaps you belong in Slytherin—"

No! I will never be anything like him, and that would just be following in his fucking footsteps.

"Oh, I was just riling you up. I suppose... Hufflepuff, then?"

As much as I love my mother, I'd rather not be like her either.

"I see...with this courageous conversation, I know where to put you..."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Caleb flinches as the crowd starts cheering, and light floods his vision. The table, he notices, has an abundance of redheads.

"Finch-Fletchey, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnegan, Seamus!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Granger, Hermione!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

McGonagall pauses, peering at the list with an odd look on her face. She beckons someone who London recognizes as Dumbledore over, and the two have a short, hushed conversation.

The hall burst into quiet, confused whispers as Dumbledore backs away. Professor McGonagall clears her throat.

"Klement, London!"

London, who, Caleb saw, was tense, relaxed slightly. He approaches the hat in swift, confident strides.

The hat flops over his eyes, and he tunes out the students' musings of what had happened with Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"You've—"

Before we begin, London interrupts, you needn't bring up the past. I don't particularly care where I end up, but I would ask not to be in Slytherin.

"Do not interrupt me, Len—"

Shut—, London stops himself. That person, the one you were about to refer to? She is dead. I know she is dead. You needn't speak her name.

"Your mother—"

His jaw clenched painfully. Don't. Do not. You don't know anything—

"I know about what your mother did to you in that cold, wet, place. I know how you felt. I know how every word, every burn—"

London's breath shudders. Stop. Please. His eyes sting and burn painfully, his chest tightening—, I'm... crying. He realized slowly.

"Slytherin would've suited you well. You are just like your father—"

London violently throws the hat and wraps his arms around his head as if protecting himself.

"RAVENCLAW!" The hat screams, though London barely hears him.

Someone touches him and he flinched heavily, shaking. He glances up, for a moment seeing a woman with long hair and slanted eyes, but is quickly replaced by Professor McGonagall.

You are just like your father, a cold voice hisses. His back burns. Just like him, like that man, evil like him, cunning like him. Wet streaks run down his face, as the air becomes scarce. Every intake of oxygen felt like glass down his throat.

"D-Don't," he chokes out, curling in on himself. He can't—he can't breathe! "Please..." His stomach aches. He feels nauseous, his vision waving and blurring and for a flash, he sees a man, charming and handsome and brutal.

"Professor Flitwick, please escort him out." He hears.

Out? Where? What did he do? Was he in trouble?

His jaw throbs, eyes sting, throat aches.

Not again.

"Angelica, escort it out," hissed a dark voice.

"Please, don't" a child begged, voice raw. "Mother, help!"

Nobody heard the child's cries.

Not again.

Brianna's heartaches as she sees London's slow breakdown. Sympathy runs through her. Her eyes squeeze shut, brow furrowing until Flitwick takes London.

"The sorting will continue. Mr. Klement is simply ill," Professor McGonagall lies. Brianna knows that that was not an illness. Not a physical one.

The sorting continues, not much of interest, other than a boy who accidentally ran off with the hat, and Malfoy, who entered Slytherin without any delay.

Until finally;

"McKendrick, Stef!"

The girl in question crosses her arms and stands tall and confident. The hat is placed upon her head, and she gets a distinct impression that the hat was a douchebag.

"Hm, you have an interesting past..."

She shrugs. Not really. Lotsa kids have had similar things happen.

"I see. You're quite confident and brave, perhaps you would fit in quite well with Gryffindor..."

Nope, Stef scowls, Gryffindors are fools. I may be impulsive, but I am no fool.

"Gryffindor doesn't quite suit you."

Come on, cut the foreplay. Just put me in a house that does suit me. It's literally your job.

"In that case..."

"SLYTHERIN!"

Stef freezes. "Aw, fuck, those bastards?"

Brianna fidgets nervously. All the people she knows were scattered into different houses.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"..., "Nott"..., "Parkinson"..., then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"..., then "Perks, Sally-Anne"... then-

"Pierson, Brianna!"

"Pre-" Brianna immediately shuts her mouth, this wasn't attendance. She slouches slightly, picking at the skin by her nails. Soon, the hat blocks her sight of the hall.

"Well, this is simple."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Brianna jolts, clumsily taking the hat off and stumbling to the Hufflepuff table. As she sits, someone smiles at her.

"Hello, I'm Cedric Diggory," the boy says.

"Oh, B-Brianna. Pierson. Brianna P-Pierson."


"Potter, Harry!"

At the name, Stef glances up with a frown. She analyses the boy, a small boy with ugly round glasses and wild hair, who stumbles nervously on the way to the stool and immediately dismisses him. He is a child. Weak. She has no reason to waste time on some famed weakling.

Caleb looks up eagerly. "Harry Potter?" he breathes, and as he sees the boy he is...dissappointed. Just a normal kid. He blinks. "Well, I hope he's nice..."

A boy next to him seems to hear him. "Ha! You tryin' to be Potter's friend? As if he'd ever associate with some nobody with hair like that" he looks pointedly at the shoulder-length, shaggy hair atop Caleb's head.

The blond rolls his eyes. "No need to take out your insecurities on me."

Brianna pauses at the murmurs across the hall. "What's going on?"

"What's going- Harry Potter is being sorted!"

"Who's Harry Potter?"