Everyone in the British wizarding world seemed to expect you to know who they were or figure it out from context, so I'd finally identified Minerva McGonagall from the nameplate on her office door. This also informed me that she was the transfiguration professor and the assistant headmistress. The inside of the office was as severe as the rest of her demeanor. Basically a stone closet with a large fireplace and window overlooking the castle grounds, there was not much here other than a small, uncluttered desk, a couple of chairs, and a large, orderly bookshelf. The one thing that stood out was a battered old hat lying on the desk, barely still pointy in the wizarding style. "Recent upgrade?" I asked, gesturing at the much newer witch hat she was wearing.

"Oh, no, that's for you, Mr. Dresden."

Looked like the whole scholarship student thing was about to be brought home. "I don't really wear hats," I demurred.

Her cheek twitched as she sat down and gestured for me to take the chair across the desk. That might have been the closest thing to a smile that would crack through her facade. "You only have to wear it for a minute. I mentioned houses to you before? The students of Hogwarts are sorted based on temperament into one of four groups. The magic of that hat gauges which would suit you best. Normally, this is done on the first day of school in front of all your peers… but I assumed you would prefer not to sit on a stool in between a pair of 11-year-olds at the welcoming feast next month?"

"I don't know, maybe that would set peoples' expectations of me at the right level." I was still upset about the whole situation, but I felt bad for almost making the stone-faced witch cry earlier and was willing to meet her halfway if she was back in a joking mood. "I just put it on?"

She nodded, so I put the decrepit old hat on my head, and thought I felt it wriggle on its own to settle itself. A sensation similar to what Dumbledore had done to me the night before crept over my mind. But where he was looking at my memories almost like a real-time film reel, whatever the hat was doing seemed far faster and more thorough. I couldn't figure out why they used such a powerful artifact for arbitrarily dividing children into peer groups when the auror corps had to send away for their chief warlock to do a fraction of the same work.

After only a moment, I heard a gravelly voice speaking in my mind. "As usual, when I have to do a late sorting, I find something to recommend you to any of the houses. This may be difficult."

"Make your best attempt, hat," I thought at it. "I don't know anything about it."

"Then let me give you a brief overview. Slytherin is the house for the ambitious and cunning, and you're clever enough to make your way there. I fear, however, you might find it hard to belong with the current attitudes of the house.

"Ravenclaw keeps the seekers of knowledge for knowledge's sake, and you have a questing mind and deep interest in magical theory. Yet, I do not think you'd have the patience to solve a riddle every time you wanted to enter your common room.

"Hufflepuff is the home of the loyal, and would go out of their way to welcome you. Many orphans find their way there. But you are unlikely to be content as just one small part of a larger team.

"Gryffindor is the house of the brave, and you certainly have that quality to an almost foolhardy degree. Indeed, I see that you're exactly the type to make a bad quip and take another hit than to ever bend before evil. I almost hate to put you in with others that will only encourage this habit but…

"Better be Gryffindor!" that last seemed to leave my head and be announced to the room, removing the option for me to tell McGonagall that it had said Hufflepuff where I could keep my head down.

Was that pride in the professor's eyes as she gestured for me to put the hat back on the desk? Once it was back in place and I'd run my fingers over a scalp that definitely needed a shower but at least wouldn't have hat hair, she explained, "In addition to my other duties, I serve as head of house for Gryffindor. I am to be your first point of contact for school issues."

"Do they even let you sleep?" I asked, considering how many hats she must wear on a daily basis.

"Strictly on the weekends and school holidays, Mr. Dresden." I was getting it. Bad jokes were my shield against the world, and a stoic mien was hers. But Professor McGonagall was probably a fun person to be around, if you could stay on her good side and get her to relax a bit. She passed a piece of paper to me. Wait, no, it was legitimately a sheet of parchment. PETA would have a field day with this place, if they realized the wizarding world was still on the sheepskin standard. "That's the Hogwarts course list. I'd like you to let me know the generalities of your education in each of those disciplines, so we can prepare the other professors for your placement exams."

A couple of things immediately jumped out to me as weird. "Arithmancy covers spell creation and modification? How much math is actually taught? And do you have any social studies other than history? Wait, is there really no English class? No Latin? Music? PE? Science!?"

McGonagall let out a long-suffering sigh, then explained, "That was almost verbatim the questions a pair of dentists recently asked me when reviewing the curriculum for their daughter. I assume you were taking muggle schooling with your mentor teaching you magic?"

"More or less," I admitted. "I did a lot of home schooling, particularly after we moved here earlier in the year. That's why I wasn't too worried about getting my GED. Sorry, General... Equivalency Diploma. I think that's what it stands for. It's what you can get in the US so you can go to college if you didn't finish high school."

She nodded. "That type of education is typical for most magical students elsewhere in Britain, as well. The majority of witches and wizards are apprenticed in a similar manner as you were, taking their magical education from their parents or from a mentor in the trade they hope to pursue. Still others attend schools arranged for the purpose in various cities around the country. I believe one in central London even has more students than Hogwarts, which only takes up to 40 students per year group. Those schools also cover more muggle subjects. Any such students are allowed to take the two large tests of magical aptitude: the OWLs and NEWTs.

"It is extremely uncommon for anyone from an apprenticeship or smaller school to do well enough on these tests to qualify for a position in the Ministry. A fair number qualify as aurors and healers, due to some academies specifically created to ensure specialized training for those jobs. But the vast majority are partially-trained in magic and must content themselves in trades. They'll never qualify for work in the magical government…"

I thought I followed her. "So they'll never get a chance to change the laws making them second-class citizens. Meanwhile, Hogwarts teaches specifically to those tests?"

"I was a bit more politic with the parents of an 11-year-old, but, essentially, yes. But you have it backwards: the test is actually based on the Hogwarts curriculum, as the oldest magic school in the country. Unfortunately, at this point it's a self-reinforcing cycle. We set the standards, but are now trapped by them. And they haven't changed meaningfully in centuries. I would love to offer a larger range of classes, but the more we add to the curriculum, the less time the students have to prepare for what's on the tests…"

Suddenly, a lot of Justin's behaviors hit me, and I concluded, "Most of the government, who controls these standards, entered from Hogwarts. And none of their coworkers are likely to call them on what they don't know. Meanwhile, their bosses were born in the 1800s anyway, because wizards live so long, and haven't kept up with the last century of technology. So they can't go out into the rest of the world without being completely confused and scared by what they see there."

She just sighed, and nodded. "That is, in fact, quite a succinct description of the recent conflicts in British wizarding society. If you have the time around your other classes, we are quite happy to help you take correspondence courses to maintain the other disciplines you feel are lacking."

"Still, though," I couldn't stop arguing, "no literature or Latin courses? British schools have been mad for those for centuries."

"Hogwarts was founded so long ago that there was significantly less English literary tradition. And the classes were originally taught in Latin. As the language died slowly, nobody ever realized it now needed to be its own class to understand spell phrases. Professor Vector has to do a significant remedial Latin module for starting Arithmancy students before they can begin to understand the spells they're creating."

I felt like I was already getting good at reading this woman, despite her dislike of making facial expressions, and the feeling I was getting mirrored the deep frustration of several other teachers I'd met that felt hamstrung by government standards. "I'll just… go over this list then?"

Her response was extremely dry. "That would be excellent. Thank you, Mr. Dresden."