September 1st, year unknown. An eclectic group of 11-year-olds arrived at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry and are waiting to be sorted. They all look around, expressing their nervousness in different ways.
"Look at those mudbloods," says a tall, black-haired boy with a Norwegian accent. "This place is polluted with them. Father should have sent us to Durmstrang."
"They're not so bad. Come on, look at them. They are tiny and cute," answered his brother, an even taller, blonde boy with long hair and a toothy smile.
"So you find that spiky-haired boy cute?" the first brother quipped. "Ouch! Stop it! Father told you not to hit me anymore."
"Father this, father that. We are grown up now, living on our own," the blonde boasted, chest puffed.
"Mr. Odinson! Quiet! And keep your hands to yourself!" asserted Professor McGonagall.
"Sorry, ma'am," Thor answered, lowering his gaze. As soon as the Professor turned her back, he slapped his brother in the back of the head.
"Big blondie is checking you out," the boy with spiky hair said to a red-headed girl.
"So what? He looks dumb," she answered in a Russian accent.
"Yeah, you don't want to waste your time with some dummy," interjected another dark-haired boy that was wearing sunglasses despite being already nighttime. He casually leaned on the spiky-haired boy, who shook him off.
"Please leave the lady alone," said a clean-cut blonde who was wearing a perfectly pressed uniform.
The boy in the sunglasses lifted his hands in a surrender gesture.
"Looks like you have too many bodyguards already, sweetheart. If you decide to shake them off, come to find me at Ravenclaw tower," he said cockily.
"How do you know you will be in Ravenclaw?" asked the spiky-haired boy.
"Because I'm a genius," answered sunglasses before turning to smile at another girl.
"Arsehole," mumbled Spiky, making the redhead girl chuckle and pat his arm.
"He surely is going to make Ravenclaw colorful," said a disheveled boy. He seemed resigned with his hands in his pockets.
"So you are going to Ravenclaw too?" asked Redhead with a flirty smile that made her friend Spiky chuckle. The disheveled boy shrugged.
"It's all I got going for me."
"That and that you are cute," she responded. Before the stunned boy could answer, the Great hall doors opened, and they were instructed to walk in.
"Wow. I want to be like her," whispered a cute, short girl with an easter European accent.
"Oh, no, you don't want to be like that," Spiky responded, getting a backslap from the Redhead. He took it on stride and winked at the shy girl, who blushed but felt elated.
Professor McGonagall stood at the front, the Sorting Hat in one hand, a list on the other.
"Banner, Bruce."
The disheveled boy walked to sit on the bench. The hat shouted while still on McGonagall's hand.
"Ravenclaw!"
"Wow. so he really is that smart," said the redhead girl with a giddy smile. Her friend didn't have time to reply because he was called next.
"Barton, Clinton."
The spiky-haired boy took his turn on the stool. The hat sat on his head for only a few seconds.
"Gryffindor!"
"See you there? He asked his redhead friend on the way down.
"Probably not," she answered with a hint of resentfulness in her voice. She came from a complicated family, not the purest at heart.
"Maximoff, Wanda."
The shy girl made her way to the stool. The hat took its time with her. She seemed to be bargaining, nervous about where to go.
"Hufflepuff!"
She sighed in relief, though on her way to the table, she caught Clint's eyes on her and felt a ping of regret for bargaining with the hat. Maybe she should have gone to Gryffindor.
"Dang!" said Clint, disappointed. He followed her with his gaze and smiled from across the room. Wanda waved shyly. "I guess I'll have to figure out a way to visit the badger den," he mused out loud.
"We're on the tower, and they are all the way down on the ground," a second-year Gryffindor girl scoffed with a hint of jealousy in her voice. It seemed like she thought of herself as the prettiest girl in the Lion's house.
"Awesome. I love climbing down off windows," Clinton chuckled, making the girl fume. Meanwhile, the ceremony continued in front of the room.
"Odinson, Loki."
"Slytherin!"
The black-haired Viking kid walked proudly toward the serpent table. He knew he looked great in green. Then it hit him that maybe his brother wouldn't go there. His feelings on the mater were conflicting.
"Odinson, Thor."
"Hufflepuff!"
"How dare you!" the boy bellowed.
"Quiet! Go to your table," McGonagall said.
"Sorry, professor," the boy answered. He was most disappointed for getting separated from his brother. When he handled the hat to McGonagall, her expression softened, and she whispered:
"Hufflepuff is right next to the kitchens."
The boy beamed, then went to his table. When he plopped on the bench, his weight almost catapulted Wanda in the air. He held her down and said:
"It's ok, little one. You will be my surrogate sister," punctuating his words with a shake of her shoulder.
Wanda blinked a few times, turn to the Gryffindor table, and mouthed help, making Clint laugh.
"Rogers, Steve," was McGonagall's next call.
"Gryffindor."
The clean-cut boy went to sit next to Clint, who extended his hand.
"Nice to meet you, Cap. I'm Clint."
"Steve. Why do you call me Cap?"
"You look like you'll be captain of the quidditch team."
Steve smiled.
"Maybe. I'm a good beater. What about you? Will you try for the team next year?"
"Yup. Seeker. And a darn good one. My older brother calls me Hawkeye."
"Then we should have the house cup in the bag," Steve quipped. Clint was about to keep the conversation going but turned when his friend's name was called.
"Romanoff, Natasha."
"Slytherin!"
The girl walked to her table, head held high. When she walked by her pal, she said:
"I guess I'll see you on the quidditch pitch, Clint."
"Bring it," he called to her back. Then he noticed that Steve was also falling her with his eyes, enthralled.
"Don't go there, mate. She'll dump you on your ass anytime."
"I wasn't, I, I," Steve stuttered, blushing. Clint chuckled but took pity on him and switched the conversation back to quidditch.
"Stark, Anthony."
"Ravenclaw."
Sunglasses made a double peace sign, bowed, and went to sit next to Bruce.
"So, you read Transfiguration Today?"
Bruce nodded, surprised. Maybe this Stark kid was the real deal.
And so the feast began. New acquaintances were made, as years of competition and friendship were to come. And maybe, just maybe, here and there will be sparks of young love.