'Oh for the love of Merlin,' Jane moaned, a look of utter pain on her face. 'Where are they? I'm starving!'

'Don't worry, Roly Poly Rizzoli,' a boy three places to Jane's right called down the table. 'I'm sure they'll be here soon.'

'Shut it, Joey,' Jane growled menacingly.

They had been seated for at least fifteen minutes. There was no sign of the first years, and the empty golden plates and goblets spaced along the long oak table remained depressingly bare, taunting Jane further. Jane crossed her arms defiantly over her stomach as it gave an enormous growl. She could have sworn they were more than half way through the Sorting by this time last year. Maybe some idiot had fallen in the Lake. Jane groaned internally. It better not have been Frankie.

The Great Hall was a loud buzz of chatter, everybody catching up on each other's summer holidays. It had been chilly out in the evening, but a thousand bodies packed in such close proximity had heated the large room quickly, and Jane was regretting choosing her jumper over her V-neck vest. She silently cursed the robes-on rule for formal occasions. It wasn't a problem in winter, but summer? Ridiculous.

Her hand brushed against the outline of her wand as she rolled up her sleeves. It was tucked safely away in the long, narrow silk pocket sewn into the lining of her robe, and her hand twitched on instinct, wanting very much to blast a hex at Joseph Grant. She hadn't been allowed to use magic all holidays, and the practice would do her good.

As if on cue, Joey's irritating voice came bounding down the table once more. 'So, Rizzoli. What'd you do for the holidays?'

'I sat around thinking about the cannoli I should be eating right now,' Jane barked back sarcastically.

'Roly Poly Rizzoli loves cannoli!' Joey exclaimed gleefully. 'Oh, too good!'

Jane actually had her hand on her wand at this point, torn between wanting the satisfaction of making boils erupt out of Joey's face, and wanting to avoid getting detention on her first day back. She knew that if she were to be hauled off and yelled at now, she'd probably miss Frankie's Sorting. He'd be upset, Ma would send a Howler, AND she'd probably just be creating another obstacle between her and the cannoli. So, with the face of a Horntail, she released her wand and balled both her hands into fists. Joey would get what was coming to him soon.

Over at the Ravenclaw table, Frost was sitting and chatting to another third year girl called Anna, who he didn't really know very well. They'd been having classes together for the past two years, but hadn't ever exchanged more than a few words. Frost, in all honesty, had assumed she was stuck up and looked down on him. But she'd promptly sat next to him and asked him how his summer was, seemingly out of the blue.
He'd made a lame joke in response, 'So dull I almost forgot the magical world existed.'
She'd asked if he was Muggle-born, and he'd told her the story of his parents' early divorce. He had then learned she was also a half-blood, and they'd been having quite an interesting conversation ever since. Frost was pleasantly surprised at the lack of awkwardness. Usually, he'd be looking for ways out by now, but they were deep in conversation as though they'd known each other for years.
Frost was looking at her with new eyes, and was just in the process of subtly estimating how long her eyelashes were when they were interrupted by the seventh year prefect Susie Chang.

'Hey guys,' she said a little breathlessly, as she always seemed to sound. 'Anna, uh, we've, I mean, the prefects, have been told that we're expecting a third year transfer student; Maureen Isles. She's with the first years at the moment, and she'll be getting Sorted whenever they get here. I don't know what she's like, but if she gets Sorted into Ravenclaw, can you like, take her under your wing for a bit? You know, introduce her to some of the other third years, until she finds her crowd?'

'Uh… yeah, I suppose,' Anna agreed reluctantly, looking like there wasn't much she'd rather not do.

'Great!' Susie beamed, completely oblivious to her disdain, and hurried back to her seat.

Frost looked around the Great Hall, and saw prefects from the other houses standing in, or walking down, the aisles, presumably relaying the same message to one of their third years.

'Seriously, she chose me?' Anna wondered to Frost. 'I'm not friendly.'

'You've been friendly to me just now,' Frost pointed out.

'Yeah, well. I thought it was about time I got to know you a little better, Barry,' she shot him a smile that Frost couldn't quite decipher the meaning of.

'Hey, Anna, I can take care of the new chick if she makes Ravenclaw,' Frost offered. 'I know a few of the girls from Chess Club who'll probably fall over themselves at the chance for a new friend.'

Rather than looking thankful, Anna smothered a snort and opted for, 'You know people from Chess Club?'

'Well, uh,' he looked momentarily embarrassed. 'Jane likes chess too, so we go… from time to time…'

A fork was tapped against a glass up at the High Table, commanding silence, and Frost breathed an internal sigh of relief.

'Your attention, if you please,' a pompous looking man by the name of Professor Kravitz stood up. 'Professor Clark has just minutes ago gone to meet the new first year students, and they will be here momentarily. I must request that you all refrain from chitchat from now until the cessation of the Sorting Ceremony. Welcome the newcomers into your ranks warmly. They are a long way from home.'

The moment he resumed his seat, a muted kind of whooshing noise filled the Hall as each and every student shifted position simultaneously to train their eyes on the great oak doors. Faces grew eager as the arrhythmic march of shoes grew steadily louder until a large group of somewhat terrified first years came into view.

Jane looked interestedly at the new bunch. Some of this lot would become Frankie's friends, which meant some of them would be at her house during the holidays. While they were all gaping at the bewitched ceiling of the Great Hall, she got a chance to size them up. They were all so tiny! She was sure she had never been that tiny as a first year. They filed past, two or three abreast, nudging each other and pointing up at the scores of floating candles in the bewitched ceiling. Jane finally located Frankie, who had been scanning the sea of maroon-lined hoods for his sister. She gave him a grin and a wave, and it was only when he broke their eye contact to say something to a girl next to him and point back at Jane that she noticed there was somebody far more interesting to watch at this Sorting than her little brother.

The girl was around the same height as Frankie, maybe a fraction taller. Her robes fit her body in ways that Jane had never seen robes do before. Her hair was pulled back in a French plait: a style Jane had never been able, nor really cared, to master. Her own hair was either scraped back in a loose ponytail, or allowed to run wild like the rumoured long black mane of the thestral. She didn't know; she had never witnessed death. In the moment that the girl turned to look at Jane as per Frankie's pointed digit, Jane saw that her face was essentially flawless. In that second, a cascade of judgements flew through her head. In her experience, beautiful people tended to be mean. She would be one of the popular girls, and command a small group of airheads. She'd make the poor kids feel bad about their hand-me-down robes, and get huge packages from home in the owl post every other day. Who knew why she had befriended Frankie. Maybe she thought he could do her homework.

Come to think of it, she'd heard that the McLaggens' oldest kid was coming through this year. Cormac McLaggen, now 33, was doing extremely well in his career with the Ministry, now quite high up in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Jane didn't know much about him, but she'd seen his pretentious face in the newspaper often enough, and he definitely rubbed her the wrong way. This girl with Frankie could easily be his daughter.

Jane expected the gaze on her face to be condescending, and self-important, like Cormac's perpetually did. To look at the bird's nest the wind had crafted from her hair during the carriage ride and scoff. To look at her total lack of makeup or jewellery and think her inferior. But this girl's gaze said none of those things. If anything, she looked curious. She looked… Jane hated the word, but well, nice. She looked… was that the hint of a smile? Strangers never smiled at Jane. Strangers usually avoided Jane. She was too surprised to think about whether she should reciprocate. The girl had looked away again before she could blink. She watched her continue towards the Sorting Hat, and found herself oddly mesmerised by the way she carried herself. She didn't look as young as the other first years, but it was hard to judge her age, because she looked as though she had the sophistication of a sixth or seventh year. But surely she must be eleven. Why else would she be with the first years? Jane was slightly alarmed by the next thought that stole through her mind: Best lookin' eleven year old I ever saw. Woah, woah, woah. Where did that come from?

This manifested as a small frown on her face, yet the absurdity of her last thought was not sufficient to warrant an eye aversion. She watched how the free part of that golden brown plait bounced slightly in time with the girl's step. How the hood of her robe fell so perfectly over the back of her shoulders. Come on, Jane, a voice in her head spoke sarcastically. Who admires a hood? A hand came up to tuck a flyaway strand of hair behind her ear, and Jane was somewhat in awe of how polished she made such a simple action look. Under the pretence of scratching an itch, Jane brought a hand up to her own hair. A quick assessment by touch gave her enough evidence to warrant a wince – it was not her best hair day. This was weird. Why did she care? She'd never cared what other people thought of her hair before. Especially not Cormac "Worship Me" McLaggan's probable offspring. Who the hell was this person? She made Jane feel unsure of herself without having even spoken to her.

The first years had all gathered at the front of the Great Hall now, and Professor Clark stood before them unrolling a piece of parchment. 'When I call your name,' she reminded them, making her way towards the Sorting Hat, 'you will sit on this stool and have the Hat placed on your head. It will announce your House and you may join the appropriate table. But first, of course, the Sorting Song.'

To the surprise of the newcomers, and the anticipatory delight of the rest of the school, a fold in the material of the Sorting Hat opened up to the reveal a wide mouth, and the Hat began to sing!

I'm brown and slightly dusty
Don't let that put you off
Just let me see your thoughts
At worst, you'll get a mild cough

I know that some of you are scared
But you've no need to worry
I'm old and wise and very smart
I'll Sort you in a flurry

There's no one better for this job
The founders all agreed
Godric thought I'd do them proud
They cast a spell on me

I sit on shelves and gather dust
All throughout the year
But this day is my favourite
So I sing for all to hear

Brave Gryffindor, smart Ravenclaw
Good Hufflepuff makes three
And cunning Slytherin of course
Built the school today you see

But don't forget that while I Sort
You are not enemies
Here at Hogwarts School of
Witchcraft and Wizardry

I Sort you based on talent
But of course that doesn't mean
That you won't find your best friend yet
In a tie of silver green

Even if your own tie
Is coloured red and gold
Or yellow black, or bronze and blue
It's smart and good and bold

To leap across the House lines
Blur them just a little
You'll agree, I hope, the logic of
Segregation is quite brittle

Show compassion for each other
And to yourself be true
Heed my words, enjoy your year
The Sorting now is due!

The Great Hall erupted into applause as the Hat grew silent. Professor Clark smiled at the awed faces of the first years. The Sorting Hat's annual song was always useful for dissolving some of the tension.

'Amalie Appleton,' was called first as the appreciative clapping and whistling died down. After a short deliberation, the Hat announced, 'Hufflepuff!' to the Great Hall.

A few rogue jeers from the Slytherin table could just be made out, but the Hufflepuff table did a very good job of drowning them out with applause and cheering. Professor Clark removed the Hat and Amalie stepped off the stool to join her Housemates.

Casto Archer was called and swiftly Sorted into Ravenclaw. The olive skinned boy with an enormous mop of dark brown curly hair gave a grin and headed off towards his table.

Meloria Armitage was also deemed to be a Ravenclaw, after much deliberation.

Jane snorted at Dorit Avery's name, as a very sullen looking girl approached the stool. The Hat was silent for a long time, and Jane found herself growing incredibly bored. She stared off into a far corner of the Great Hall's ceiling, trying to guess the name of that girl Frankie was with. Cormac's kid was Elva, or Keeva, or something. But… Jane wasn't sure. She looked more like an Astra. Or a Bianca. Or hell, she even looked girly enough to be called something like Elladora, which kind of made Jane want to vomit a little. Still… names weren't always reflective of a personality. Jane's middle name was proof enough of that.

'Slytherin!' the Hat finally cried, and the table in green went wild for their first addition.

Rohan Avery, who could only be Dorit's twin brother, followed her to the Slytherin table twenty seconds later.

Marcus Becker was made a Gryffindor, and Jane joined her House in cheering and whistling, as the small boy with an enormous smile made his way towards them.

The ceremony seemed painfully slow this evening. Jane drifted in and out of attentiveness, and she wasn't alone, as the tables steadily lost gusto. Lucas Bilton made Slytherin. Theresa Bridges made Slytherin. Ruby Burke made Ravenclaw, as did Chloe Cameron. They were only up to C. Jane's eyelids started to droop; she needed food and an enormous goblet of cranberry juice.

Shane Finnegan apparently got Gryffindor, because hands were suddenly thrown together all around her, startling her out of her stupor. Monotony wasted no time in reeling her back in though, because Jane barely registered Professor Clark calling for Maura Isles a few letters later. It was only by chance that she looked up and saw that girl just having the hat placed on her head.

'Hey, Crowe, what letter're we up to?' Jane nudged her neighbour.

'I,' he yawned. 'She's Isles or something.'

Isles. Not Cormac McLaggan's daughter, then. Jane perked up with sudden interest, still oddly captivated by the stranger.

It was certainly different, Maura thought, to be sat down facing the entire school, than to walk between the dining tables. It was also pleasing to have a last name that didn't fall at the beginning of the alphabet, since it meant she would be watched less intently. As a whole, the school seemed to be losing interest in the ceremony. She crossed her legs at the ankles, and demurely folded her hands over her grey pleated skirt as the Sorting Hat was placed on her head.

'Maura Isles,' the Hat greeted in its even, analysing tone. 'Transferred from Boston, eh? Don't see many of you,'

'I don't imagine you would,' Maura thought back to the Hat. 'International travel, even for the magical community, is a daunting task, and when most magical educational programmes are delivered at boarding schools, adolescent wards do not present as a problem for most families, so th-'

'You experience deep thoughts,' the Hat cut in. 'On a level that many students fail to achieve throughout all their time here. You think in a way that is foreign to most, which has made you try to ignore that some of your basic needs have not been met.'

'I suppose you mean my lack of friends,' Maura thought.

'Friends, yes, amongst other things. You are not shallow, or weak for wanting a friend, Maura. You are good, and would not be out of place in Hufflepuff. But they will not challenge your character in the way that it needs to be challenged.'

'What kind of challenge?'

'It will need to be analysed, by a well-trained mind,' the Hat continued, ignoring her. 'You will need courage, and I see you have plenty of that. But the kind of bravery you are used to is less from fear and more from allowing your academic pursuits to outweigh the temptations you share with those who are accustomed to experiencing common thought. I will send you on a path that might lead, eventually, to admiration.

'RAVENCLAW,' the Hat bellowed, and Maura felt it lifted from her head. A challenge? What did that mean? The Hat had been incredibly cryptic. She pondered this as she made her way to the clapping table of blue.

As Elladora Isles – Jane stifled a snort at the thought – went to join the Ravenclaws, Jane found herself strangely disappointed that she hadn't made Gryffindor. She had kind of wanted an excuse to talk to her. What is going on with me tonight? she wondered. Maybe this is what happens when I'm bordering on starving.

Alexei Ivanac was called, and Jane thought back to what the Hat had said to her on this day two years previous. She still hadn't figured out what on earth it was talking about.

'Jane Rizzoli,' a voice in her head greeted.

'Woah!' she thought, suddenly startled. 'Nobody said anything about the Hat talking to you. Oh, crap, I hope it doesn't know my mi-'

'Yes, I know your middle name is Clementine,' the Hat cut in, somewhat amused. 'You have a strong mind, Jane, and you are one of the easier ones to place.'

'Better not be Hufflepuff,' she grumbled. 'I hate yellow.'

'Not Hufflepuff, no. I sense you are loyal, and fiercely so, but only to a select few. I will caution you now, Jane, that one day you will need courage that is not of a conventional sort. You are subconsciously fighting a battle within yourself at this moment. When it comes closer to the surface, and it will, remember I put you in this House for a reason. Use the skills you naturally possess, that your founder prized above all else.

'GRYFFINDOR!'

She hadn't confided in anyone what the Sorting Hat had said to her. She was worried that this supposed battle going on in the deep recesses of her brain might be painfully obvious to everyone else, and they would be embarrassed to tell her. The Hat reckoned it would come to the surface one day. Apparently that day was not yet upon her. She stifled a yawn, and resolved to count her belly rumbles to pass the time. She had reached fourteen by the time Frankie was called.

Poor kid. He'd been standing almost as long as she'd been sitting, and she was pretty sure she saw his hands shaking a little. She saw him fleetingly try to search her out in the crowd, before the Hat was placed on his head and fell forward over his eyes.

'Francesco Rizzoli,' came that calm, calculating tone.

'Oh,' Frankie thought, surprised. 'Hello, uh… Sorting Hat.'

'I recall Sorting your sister. And I see you will be equally easy to place.'

'Gryffindor!' Frankie thought, joy spreading quickly through his system.

'Gryffindor? No, no, I'm afraid not. You are brave, though not remarkably so, and I see you crave the House of the Lion chiefly to impress and join your sister. Similarly, you seek to avoid Hufflepuff because you have heard tales of ridicule from outside these walls. Helga was pleased to take those whose major attributes did not align well with ambition, bravery, or intelligence, that is true. But you are not "the rest", Francesco. You are just, and good, and loyal; overwhelmingly so. I place you first and foremost with the Badger. A first choice, and not for lack of a better fit. You will learn to be proud of your colours, sooner than you think.

'HUFFLEPUFF!'

Frankie stepped off the stool with a look on his face that was somewhere between bemusement and forlornness, feeling a little as though he had asked for a new racing broom for Christmas, and been gifted a garden gnome instead. Now halfway through the letter R, the Hufflepuff table was still applauding their new additions with more enthusiasm than any other House. Frankie plopped down on a vacant space on the bench, and trained his eyes to the now much smaller group gathered at the Hat. He wasn't really listening as a conventionally handsome boy with a wide grin by the name of Dennis Rockmond was Sorted into Slytherin. He was more preoccupied wondering if Jane was going to tease him, or if Frost had only been placating him when he said Hufflepuffs didn't cop it so much inside the castle. Seven years he now had to spend in canary yellow. All because an ancient Hat thought he wasn't brave enough. That's not why you made Hufflepuff, his brain reminded him. The Hat told you why; you're a good person. Don't be an idiot. The other kids in your House look really decent. And look on the bright side: at least it's not Slytherin.

So he sat there with the others, trying to be cheerful, and stifling in his robes as the remainder of his year were allocated a House.

Heidi Rodman… Benjamin Rush… Jasmine Shahi… Evangelina Snow… Athena Sulsar… Kirsten Tambini… Matthias Taunt… Kallon Tyne… Leyson van der Grinten… Elliott Woodbridge… Tierra Wool… Armado Yaxley…

These were the few names of many that stood out to Frankie as his disappointment slowly gave way to hunger and impatience. Jane had said the feasts at Hogwarts were eight times better than Ma's best Christmas dinner, and remembering this fact, his mouth began to water. He saw another Hufflepuff newbie gazing longingly at his empty plate, and gave a friendly grin. It wouldn't be long now.

Over at the Ravenclaw table, Frost whispered as loudly as he dared in the direction of the newcomers. 'Hey! Which one of you is the transfer student. Maureen?'

'It's Maura,' came an American accent, sounding slightly affronted.

'Okay, well, we've been… I've been asked,' Frost corrected in the wake of Anna's glare, 'to get you acquainted with some other third years. So if you want to move up a few places in a bit, I can talk you through the Hogwarts social system while we eat. Which should be pretty soon.'

Pretty soon indeed. The last kid Zabini had just got off the stool, and Professor Clark was making her way back to the High Table. The headmaster, Professor Cavanaugh, stood up to make his welcome address.

'A very warm welcome to you all: returning students, new students, staff… ghosts,' he nodded his head in the direction of Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington. 'I will make this short, because I know the evening has been long, and your bellies are empty. Before we eat, however, I wish to inform you that Healer Pike has left his position as overseer of the Hospital Wing. I trust you will join me in welcoming our new Healer, Madame Hope Martin, who will be taking over the role.'

Genuine enthusiastic applause followed, less out of respect for the new Healer, and more out of thankfulness that the dreaded Pike had gone for good.

'First years be aware that the Forbidden Forest is strictly out of bounds, and the Black Lake is to be ventured into only at your own risk. Our caretaker, Mr Stanley, has added screaming yo-yos to the list of forbidden items. Professor Korsak asks that if you must let off Whack Trance Whammy Rockets, please refrain from doing so from the Owlery Tower, as the birds grew very distressed the last school year from this activity. And Professor Longbottom has forbidden the use of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder and its variants from anywhere near the Herbology greenhouses, as it will interfere with the sleep-wake cycles of the plants. Professors?' he turned back to his staff. 'Any further notices? No? Students, I trust your summer vacations have been refreshing, and you are ready to tackle the forthcoming academic challenges that this year will bring. I trust also that your appetites have been sufficiently whetted during our ceremonials. Without further ado,' he surveyed the Hall. 'Let the feast begin!'