A/N: Welp, I decided to start the tedious process of crossposting all my fics from AO3, so over the next little while, I'll be putting up all my fics over here, starting with good ol' Hogwarts Files.
I'm extremely forgetful and disorganized, so I'm probably going to not be posting chapters super regularly, but I'll try to post a few chapters every couple of days until I'm caught up. Once that happens, expect me to be highly irregular and update pretty much randomly whenever I feel like it. It could be weeks or it could be months.
I've been writing Hogwarts Files coming up on two years now, and my writing style has changed a bit since I started, so bear that in mind when you're reading.
This fic isn't beta read, so any and all mistakes are purely my fault and I apologize if that ruins the reading experience for anyone.
Note: The canon age differences between all the characters wouldn't allow for them all to be at school at the same time, so I've changed those to where I felt like it made sense. For simplicity's sake, all of the staff at Hogwarts is the same as during Harry Potter's time at Hogwarts. If I had to pinpoint a time to set this in, it would be just a few years before Harry Potter's first year, so probably mid to late 1980's, but I don't think about that too much. The setting also necessitates that the characters are British instead of Canadian, so their dialogue might sometimes seem out of character in order for me to include British slang and terms. They also might seem out of character because they're aged down and I tried to figure out what they'd be like as kids. I obviously think too hard about this self indulgent AU and this was all entirely unnecessary, but I don't do things halfway when it comes to Murdoch Mysteries.
Please leave comments or reviews (or whatever they're called over here, it's been a while) I love hearing from fellow members of the Murdoch Appreciation Society!
I think it's pretty obvious, but to be clear: I don't own Murdoch Mysteries or the Harry Potter universe.
Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy!
The Great Hall was completely packed, and William Murdoch was anxious for the Sorting Ceremony to be over. It was strange, he hated the ceremony, but he felt that the idea of houses was the greatest idea anyone had ever had in this school. To him, it was obvious that magic, like all disciplines, was best learned and best studied in an environment where others helped to facilitate that learning. What better way to study than with people who thought just like you did?
Up on the stage, Professor McGonagall called for a "Crabtree, George" to come forward. A skinny lad with dark messy hair shuffled onto the stage and sat down on the stool. The Sorting Hat was on his head for only a few seconds before yelling "Hufflepuff!" loudly.
A pleased smile crossed Crabtree, George's face, and wild applause erupted from the Hufflepuff table.
William watched him skip down across towards his new house-mates. He almost felt sorry for him, being sorted into Hufflepuff.
He was a proud Ravenclaw, through and through. Two years ago when he'd been sorted, he'd been praying for the hat to put him in Ravenclaw, and he was glad it did. He didn't know what he'd do if he was in any other house. Slytherin he might have been able to stand, maybe even Gryffindor, but definitely not Hufflepuff. Hufflepuff meant that you weren't smart enough for Ravenclaw, or brave enough for Gryffindor, or ambitious enough for Slytherin. Hufflepuff meant that you weren't good enough for anyone else. William always felt a little bit sympathetic for the Hufflepuffs.
He glanced at the stage, where a ditzy-looking first-year named Higgins had just been sorted into Gryffindor. William clapped politely along with the rest of the students, but his mind was elsewhere. He was trying to memorize the recipe for Veritaserum so that he could brew it without having to borrow the book from the library, which would attract suspicion from Madam Pince.
Bicorn horn, lacewing flies, skin of Boomslang… He could remember the ingredients, but when it came to the steps, his memory was a bit foggy. He'd have to try to bring up the mental image of the page of Snape's book he'd seen open on the professor's desk.
At the Gryffindor table, the prefect Thomas Brackenreid was trying to get all of the second-years to settle down. "Oi!" he whispered sharply, trying not to attract attention from the professors at the front. "Shut it, the lot of you, or we'll get house points deducted before classes even start!"
The new kid, Higgins, was quite obviously an idiot. There was no doubt about it, and Thomas sighed knowing that he'd have to deal with that fool and his probably stupid ideas. And there were all the rest of the Gryffindors to worry about too.
He ran a hand through his red hair. This would be tough, really tough. Up until that point, he hadn't really considered what being a prefect meant. He wasn't just a student anymore; he was a leader. One that the underclassmen would look up to as their guide. He was a role model now, and, honestly, that scared him.
It's not all bad, he reminded himself with a grin. Margaret's a prefect too. He glanced at the pretty brunette who he'd had a crush on since he saw her in first-year. Things couldn't be that bad.
Across the hall, Julia warmly welcomed Emily Grace, the newest Slytherin, to the table with a smile. "Sit by me," she said, scooting over so that the girl could sit down. Julia always felt protective of the younger girls in her house, because she knew what it was like to be them. When she was a first-year, she was all alone: the only girl ambitious enough to be sorted into Slytherin. She was proud to don the green and silver crest on her robes, and she'd learned to ignore the stigma that came with the house. But she knew that brand new first-years hadn't learned that lesson yet. She sighed in sympathy. They would be in for a rough time. Julia hated the prejudice Slytherins faced, hated that to the small minded, she and all her friends were all evil, dark witches and wizards destined for Azkaban. She didn't deny the history of the house, but she knew that most Slytherins weren't evil in the slightest. Having grand ambitions did not determine someone's moral character.
She glanced quickly at Emily, and smiled again. She decided that no matter what, she would be there for her. Slytherins stick together, she thought. And I am no exception.
George Crabtree sat down at the Hufflepuff table, surrounded by strangers that would inevitably become his new friends. They had to, right? It wasn't as if anyone from any other house would want to be friends with him, the awkward Muggle-born wizard. He was glad he'd been sorted into Hufflepuff; they seemed to be about the only house that would truly accept him, no questions asked. He glanced at the unfamiliar faces around him. These were his people, right? They all seemed friendly enough. He looked down at the table, feeling his face go red. All he wanted was to blend in and fly under the radar. He never fit in back home, and he would do anything to make sure that he fit in here.
He tried to swallow the ball of anxiety in his throat. Remember what Aunt Primrose said, he instructed himself. It's a new beginning, you can start over.
When he was up on the stage, sitting on the stool, he could see everyone in the Great Hall all at once. Every single student, Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. A few caught his eye, an intense-looking blonde girl wearing Slytherin green, a redheaded Gryffindor prefect looking doey-eyed at the other brunette prefect, a dark-haired boy in Ravenclaw who looked like he was thinking very hard about something very important. Everything seemed so surreal up there. And now… it felt smaller, somehow.
George took a deep breath. He'd dreamed of the supernatural all his life, hoping, wishing that it was true. Now that it was, what was he supposed to do?
What if I'm no good at magic? What if they made a mistake, and they kick me out? He closed his eyes. Not now. He couldn't panic now. Everything would be fine, he decided. He'd work hard. He'd try his best to be the best wizard he could be. After all, he thought. What's the point of getting your dream come true if you let it slip through your fingers?
On the stage, at the head of the table, the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, smiled into his beard. He could tell that this was going to be a very interesting year indeed.