Chapter 2: The Sorting

As the train began to slow, Matthew put on his robe. It was plain and black. He had a set of hand-me-down blue trimmed Ravenclaw robes in his trunk from Terry. "For when you get sorted," Terry had said, "So you don't stick out too much."

The train came to a stop in front of Hogsmeade Station. Matthew grabbed Tycho's cage where the owl slept. The sleepy owl turned his head slightly, regarding Matthew with a single half-open eye before closing it again and pretending to go back to sleep. "Oh, come on now! don't be like that."

The owl continued to doze.

"Fine!" Matthew dug into his pocket and pulled out a small pellet. "Would you like a treat?" He held the pellet between the wire bars. Tycho hooted happily and snatched the treat from Matthew's fingers. Matthew took a deep breath, straightening his robes. "Alright, let's go."

As he walked down the narrow train corridor he was slowed by a block of students who were exchanging grins and attempting to stifle giggles behind their hands. It seemed McLaggen had failed to heed Ceelee's warning and was now sporting a rather handsome pair of antlers which were making it rather difficult for him to get out of his compartment. A taller boy ducked as McLaggen's antlers swooped around into the corridor where they got stuck. He managed to dislodge himself and, finding he was now too wide to negotiate the narrow walkway, was forced to turn and shuffle down the corridor sideways shooting warning glares to anyone who dared to laugh, though this only had the effect of making everyone laugh harder.

On the platform Matthew finally took his first look at the tall towers of Hogwarts, silhouetted against the deepening indigo sky. "Firs' years over here! Firs' years!" a massive man, twice as tall as a normal human and three times as wide, waved a lantern about. It illuminated the small patch of his face that was not covered with black, bushy hair. Matthew knew Prof. Rubeus Hargrid, the instructor for The Care of Magical Creatures class, at once.

He was not sure whether he was supposed to go to Hagrid or follow the rest of the students. He felt himself being slowly swept toward a fleet of carriages by the swarming students around him when a giant hand grabbed his arm. "You too, Boot. Yer comin' with us. Yeh wouldn' want ter miss this."

Matthew followed Hagrid to the lake with a gaggle of first years in tow to where a fleet of small boats waited. Matthew noticed Izzy was very intentionally walking as far from him as possible, dragging Agnes along with her, and doing her very best to avoid his looks. "Now then, get in. Three or four to a boat."

Matthew found himself in the company of a young girl with platinum coloured plaits who, as it turned out, was afraid of water and clung to his arm from the moment they stepped into the boat. He guessed she had chosen to go with him simply because he was the oldest. "There yeh go. Yeh see now? Nothin' ter be afrai' of. Boot here 'll take care a' yeh."

There was an explosion from one of the other boats followed by the shrill screams of some first year girls and Hagrid bustled off in that direction leaving Matthew with the girl still clinging to his arm for dear life. Matthew attempted a cheerful smile, "My name is Matthew Boot. What's yours?"

"Holly Mills," the girl said shakily, looking up at him with great blue eyes. He could see her skin was very pale, probably from fear, almost as white as milk but for a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose.

"Where are you from, Holly?"

The little girl looked as though she were terrified to answer the question.

"Never mind. It's not important. What kind of animal did you bring with you?"

Holly reached into her pocket and produced a tiny white mouse curled up, asleep, in the palm of her hand. It struck Matthew as terribly appropriate. Tycho hooted excitedly. Holly looked alarmed.

"Don't even think it or I won't let you out for a week. Sorry, he's harmless. He just likes to be a git sometimes."

The girl nodded as though Matthew's words were assurance enough.

"What is her name?"

"His name," she corrected him.

"I'm sorry, what is his name?"

"I don't know. He hasn't told me. He mostly just sleeps."

"Did you get him at The Magical Menagerie?"

Holly shook her head so that her braids whipped from side to side but said nothing.

"Do you know what house you want to be in?" She shook her head again. Not Gryffindor, Matthew guessed.

A loud commotion grabbed Matthew's attention. Hagrid was carrying a young, dark haired boy by the scruff of his robes. "Hey gerrof me ya big oaf! Let me go!" the boy shouted.

"Hate to bother yeh, but ya think ya could look after this one too? He was settin' off wizzbangs in the girls' boats and put a toad on one of their heads." Hagrid said apologetically.

"She deserved it!"

Hagrid bent over, "Between you an' me if he happens ta fall in yeh can leave it to the gian' squid to bring him in."

The boy's eyes flew open wide as he glanced from Matthew to Hagrid. "You wouldn't!" Matthew smiled in a way to suggest that it was clearly out of his control and he was making no promises.

"Alrigh' in yeh get," Hagrid said, depositing the boy into the front of the boat. He gave a signal and the boats began moving on their own across the black water.

"So, what's your name?" Matthew asked.

"Hector Boranos. Who wants to know?"

"I'm Matthew Boot and this is Holly Mills."

"Matthew Boot the Squib?! Everyone was talking about you on the train. Well, at least until that Carrow girl hexed Liam McLaggen which was hilarious. She's scary that one."

Matthew sighed. "Yes, I was born without magical abilities."

Hector reached into his pocket and pulled out a half-eaten chocolate cauldron, proceeding to stuff most of it into his mouth as he continued, "Yeah, the Slytherins were saying that if you were sorted into their house they'd just lock you in the dungeon and see how long it took for anyone to notice you were gone. Or else," he mimed flicking a wand, "Cruciatus!" Holly flinched as though stung and gripped Matthews arm tighter.

"Well, I doubt I'll be sorted into Slytherin, if it's any consolation to them."

"I'm going to be in Gryffindor, where all the bravest go!"

The most obnoxious seemed more accurate to Matthew who was starting to understand why Ravenclaws were typically not too keen on Gryffindors. They passed the rest of the ride in silence but for the sound of Hector chewing on his sweets and Matthew occasionally pointing out constellations to Holly who had calmed some and was now resting her head on his shoulder.

When they stepped off the boats into the cavernous harbor they were led into a large room off of the Great Hall by Professor Flitwick. "Alright now First Years, wait here until I call you in," he squeaked in his high pitched voice. He saw Matthew, towering in the back over all the first years with Holly still attached to his arm. "Ah, Mr. Boot, your brother Terry was in my house. Congratulations on your OWLS."

"Thank you, sir." He felt his face growing hot. "Really, it was nothing."

"Nonsense! Nine OWLS in what should have only been your second year. I'm hoping we'll soon have a fine new addition to Ravenclaw House."

"Yes, sir. I hope so as well."

"Well, the staff expects great things from you," Prof. Flitwick said before launching into a speech about the Houses and the House Cup. None of which Matthew heard for he had already been feeling rather nervous; now felt like his stomach had decided to do a series of backflips without the rest of his body. It was a moment before he noticed Prof. Flitwick had stopped speaking and was peeking out the door. "I'll be back in a minute." The diminutive professor slipped out, closing the door behind him.

"What are they going to do?" one boy asked.

"I heard it was some kind of test."

"I'm not ready for a test," a skinny red headed boy covered in freckles moaned.

"You're a Weasley, maybe they'll skip the test for you. Weasley's always go to Gryffindor."

"I heard it was a dangerous challenge and they figured out what house you belonged in by how you solved it," Hector announced. "If you use your strength, you go to Gryffindor, if you use your brains you go to Ravenclaw, if you cheat you go to Slytherin, and if you fail they put you in Hufflepuff." A number of students laughed at this but a few shouted insults at him, mostly those whom Matthew suspected wanted to be in or were related to Hufflepuffs and Slytherins who did not like their houses characterized in such a way.

He felt Holly pulling on his arm. He leaned over slightly and whispered, "Don't worry, my brother told me they only make you put on a hat and it just tells you your house. It's a little raggedy but hardly scary."

"They only make you put on a hat?!" a boy who was eavesdropping on the conversation practically shouted. "That's stupid!" A number of the others nodded in agreement though they all look quite relieved that there was no test after all.

Prof. Flitwick re-entered the room. "Alright, the Sorting Ceremony is about to start. Now everyone form a line and follow me." They did as they were told. Matthew couldn't help but notice Hector was at the very front of the line.

"Now you're going to have to let go of me, Holly. It won't be a line if we're next to each other. But I'll be right here." Holly reluctantly let go and reached in her pocket for her mouse. She stroked its snowy white fur with her thumb as it continued to sleep soundly.

They followed Prof. Flitwick into the Great Hall so that they faced the other students. The Hall was so different than Matthew last remembered it. The crumbling pillars, the shattered ceiling, the curse scarred stones all appeared as though they had never been and it had all simply been a bad dream. Above them hundreds of candles floated below a starry sky. "Hey it's the Squib!" someone shouted from over at the Slytherin table.

"I didn't know the Sorting Hat appointed caretakers! Mrs. Norris better watch out, looks like Filch might be replacing her!" another shouted to a resounding round of cackles.

"It's Filch jr.!" McLaggen shouted. His antlers were noticeably absent but for a pair of slightly raised stumps where they had been. He mimed sweeping with a push broom. The Gryffindors burst out in laughter. Matthew glanced over to his sister and saw her face had turned a violent shade of red.

"Alright, students, quiet down or I shall begin deducting points," a stern but familiar voice declared from behind him. "You would not want to begin the term in the negatives would you?" Headmistress McGonagall said. The room quieted down. "Prof. Flitwick, if you would, please?"

"Yes, Headmistress." Prof. Flitwick rushed over to the stool, placing a very ragged, pointed hat upon it which began to sing its song of sorting. When it had finished the entire hall burst into applause. "Let us begin," Flitwick squeaked. "When I call your name you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." He adjusted his glasses, pulling the long roll of parchment closer that he might see it better. "Answari, Ahmed."

A brown complected boy with curly black hair nervously stepped forward, he swallowed a lump in his throat and then marched forward. He pulled on the hat with such gusto it fell over his eyes. "GRYFFINDOR!" the hat declared and Ahmed quickly took off the hat to join the cheering table on the far left.

Anthony, Adelaide was the first to be sorted into Ravenclaw followed by the first Slytherin, Atwater, Sylvia. Then came Bletchley, Poppy, a cheery girl with auburn hair framing a round, freckled face.

"Boot, Isolde," Flitwick announced.

The hat had barely touched Izzy's golden curls when it proclaimed "GRYFFINDOR!" The hall erupted into cheers as Izzy bounced over to the Gryffindor table.

"Boot, Matthew."

The hall fell silent. Matthew took a step forward. Suddenly, there was a shout from the far right table, "Hey, do you think he could fly like a real wizard if we took him up in the air with a broom and dropped him?" The table burst into jeers.

"He'd better not be sorted into our house," another shouted, "he might accidentally lock himself in the dungeon and not be able to get out!"

"We could practice curses on him!" a rather unpleasant looking girl suggested.

"Yeah, he could be our very own dueling dummy!"

"I wonder if unforgivable curses count if they are used against blood trash like Squibs!"

It seemed all the Slytherin were now shouting some rather alarming threats at Matthew, many standing and a few thrusting their fists in the air for emphasis. Matthew noticed, with some mild sense of gladness, that Ceelee was merely sitting, looking rather bored. A portly professor, who resembled a walrus almost as much as he did a man, waddled over from the staff table and began speaking quickly with the head boy and girl. Finally, he turned around.

Matthew dared a peek at the headmistress whose face was white with fury but for two rosy spots on her cheeks. "Professor Slughorn, are you unable to regain control over your house?"

"I'm sorry, Minerva - Headmistress – I'm ashamed to say it, but, after thorough discussion, I must conclude that if Mr. Boot were to be placed in Slytherin House his safety would be at risk."

"Hey, we don't want Slytherin's trash!" McLaggen shouted. "If they don't have to take him we shouldn't have to either!"

"Yeah!" came the unison shout of agreement from the Gryffindor table, but for Izzy who stared at her plate looking like she very much wished she could disappear.

"How dare you?" McGonagall shouted in a quavering voice. "Do you know nothing of what Gryffindor House stands for? If any student belongs in this house, it is Mr. Boot."

"He's no safer in Gryffindor than he is in Slytherin," McLaggen shouted.

"I have never in my life seen a more disgusting display! 50 points from Gryffindor. And another 50 points from Slytherin." Unfortunately, this had the opposite effect of what was intended; for the houses became more outraged, placing their anger on the interloper who had clearly been the cause of it. McGonagall was now being drowned out by the abuse being heaped onto Matthew.

Meanwhile a peck of blue paper airplanes was accosting Prof. Flitwick, who plucked one from the air. Matthew was able to read the contents over Flitwick's shoulder.

We regret to inform you that we do not wish to have Mr. Boot in Ravenclaw and ask that he please be sent back to his home where he belongs.

Prof. Flitwick appeared as though he were about to cry. "But he has achieved nine owls in only two years of private study!" he pleaded openly with his house. "Think of all the knowledge he could add, the spells he could create, the mysteries he could solve. One does not have to be a great magic user to make great contributions to the Wizarding World!"

Another set of blue notes flew over to Prof. Flitwick, pecking at him. He opened one and Matthew read:

While we respect Mr. Boot's accomplishment in obtaining nine OWLS, we humbly request he not be placed in our house. Hogwarts is, by definition, a school for Witches and Wizards and he is clearly not a wizard. Therefore, we suggest he be sent back home where he belongs for his own safety.

Matthew was crestfallen. He had only ever dreamed of being in Ravenclaw. He had worked so hard and studied so many hours. And now they had rejected him. His eyes burned. Just then he felt a small hand in his. He looked down to see Holly standing beside him.

"Enough!" shouted Prof. Sprout, her voice magically amplified so that it might be heard over the din. "We'll take him!" There was an audible groan from the Hufflepuff table but no further objection.

"Pomona!" Flitwick cried out with a rapture as though she had just saved his life.

"I'm not doing it as a favor to you. This boy has earned his place in Hogwarts and by Merlin's Beard he is going to find his place here. If these other students cannot see his worth than that is just their loss and our gain. Matthew Boot. HUFFLEPUFF!" she shouted.

Stunned, Matthew made his way to Hufflepuff where a vaguely familiar looking blond boy with a mess of freckles shook his hand, "Donald MacMillan, Prefect for Hufflepuff. Glad to have you aboard." Donald moved over a bit to make room for Matthew to sit.

But Matthew knew he was not glad. No one was glad to have him. That point had been made abundantly clear. He did not belong at Hogwarts. He wanted more than anything to grab his trunk and go home, but instead he sat down at the table sullenly.

The Great Hall quieted almost instantly, just in time for Hector to be sorted into Gryffindor. Izzy openly wept when Agnes was sorted into Slytherin. Matthew noticed Holly sitting with Ravenclaw. It was strange, he could not remember her name being called. He sat through the feast, barely touching his food while those around him chattered away. "What are you sick or something?" Donald asked, noticing Matthews empty plate.

"Donald, you cannot be serious," a girl sitting across from Matthew said. "If I had just had that happen to me I don't think I would eat for a week. Shoshanna Cohen, 4th year." She stretched out her hand over a particularly large roast turkey.

"It's no worse than Harry Potter got that year he said You-Know-Who had come back. My cousin told me so. And you know, he proved them all wrong and went on to create Dumbledore's Army."

"Donald's cousin is Ernie MacMillan, he fought alongside Harry Potter in the Battle of Hogwarts." So that was why Donald looked so familiar.

"Took on a mess of Death Eaters singlehandedly!" he said, waving his fork around as though it were a wand. Shoshanna shot him a hard look. "Least that's how some tells it," he said, sinking back into his chair.

"You mean how you tell it," Shoshanna corrected him. "Anyway, we may not all seem it, but we are glad to have you with us, Matthew Boot. It's rare we get someone with the knowledge to put Ravenclaw to shame. I think you'll find, given your abilities, Hufflepuff is the best house for you."

"What do you mean by that?" Matthew asked.

"I think she means cause Hufflepuffs work together to accomplish our goals, mate." a voice from behind him said. "Tip Walker, I think we're the same year. You're technically third, right?" a boy with brown, spiky hair and a thick Australian accent said.

"Yes," Matthew said, shaking the proffered hand.

"No worries, sorting hat wanted to make me a Gryffindor but I took one look at that McLaggen bloke and begged anywhere but there. Best choice I coulda made. Here, budge up." Matthew moved over to make room for Tip who tossed a glance at the rest of the table who were still casting accusing glances at Matthew. "Don't worry, they'll come round in time."

"Not to be rude, but why would do you want to talk to me? I'm a squib."

"I ain't never seen McGonagall gunnin' for someone so hard before. Said you belonged in Gryffindor. Figured she was either your auntie or there was somethin' she knows that we don't," Tip said.

"Well I can tell you she's not my auntie."

"There ya go, then."

"And did you see Prof. Flitwick?" Shoshanna said. "He almost cried when his house wouldn't take you. Maybe you can't do the magic, but we can, and you can do the theory. It's about time Hufflepuff was known for creating spells."

Suddenly, Matthew felt hungry after all. In fact, he was quite famished. He tore a leg from the turkey and began to eat.

"Before we end the feast," McGonagall said. "I have a few words I wish to say. First: Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"Second: Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes."

Matthew smirked. "Well that's easy enough." Shoshanna smiled. Donald laughed.

"Third: I invite you all to welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Teacher, Professor Liberta Jones." McGonagall indicated to a silver haired woman with a straight jaw and blazing blue eyes. Prof. Jones waved. "Professor Jones has served as an Auror for almost fifteen years and we are very grateful she has agreed to help us out this year while Prof. Takahata is on sabbatical studying Ohni in Japan."

"I wonder why they brought her in?" Donald mused aloud.

"Fourth: First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song." McGonagall flicked her wand and a large page of sheet music appeared which the students did their best to follow along. "Alright, now everybody, off to bed," McGonagall said as the last notes faded from the air.