Sorting

Chapter 70: Sorting

September 1, 2009

Art had lain awake for nearly an hour, staring at the tropical fish swimming about on the ceiling. He glanced at the clock for the thirty-forth time since he woke up.

Today I am ten years, ten months old. 10.83 years old. 120 months old. 3,895.25 days old. 93,485.5 hours old, he figured, his mind running through the familiar calculations like water running through a riverbed.

"You awake?" his brother asked him from the next bed, interrupting him.

"Of course."

"Mum's in the kitchen," he said.

Art sniffed the air. "Smells like pancakes."

Fred sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. "She's making us our favorite this morning."

"To say goodbye," Art added.

He hopped out of bed and began to dress. Today was nearly as exciting as Christmas, he reckoned. He'd been looking forward to this morning in much the same way, counting down the days all summer long. And just like the last few days before a major holiday, time had seemed to creep by at a snail's pace for the last week.

He opened the trunk that sat at the foot of his bed and rifled through the neatly arranged contents once more, confirming again everything that was required, necessary, or wanted was in its proper place. There was never any doubt, really. He'd been packed for two days already.

Downstairs, Art discovered his mother had made a huge breakfast of her special pancakes, just as he'd predicted. As he tucked into breakfast with gusto, he wondered if he would miss it much: seeing Mum every morning before school, eating breakfast and supper at home with his little sisters, sleeping in his own bed. While the food he'd eaten at Hogwarts over the years had always tasted very good – for he'd eaten lunch there nearly every day for the past five years – it was almost, but not quite as delicious as Mum's. He imagined his younger Weasley and Potter cousins might feel differently in the future, however, when it was their turn to start at school. Aunt Ginny's and Uncle Harry's cooking was certainly edible, and Aunt Fleur had her better dishes, but Aunt Hermione's was just plain gross, in his opinion. No wonder Hugo's such a pip-squeak.

The stack of pancakes on his plate was now gone, and his stomach was feeling comfortably stuffed. Art glanced around the table at his family while he downed his orange juice. Dad was reading the morning's paper, as usual. Joey was making a mess, as usual, with syrup spread nose to chin and ear to ear, and would likely have to be changed again before they left. Janie was looking at a picture book about unicorns. The little girls had no idea what was happening today, and likely wouldn't care too much even if they did, he figured. At six and four, they were too young to understand.

Mum was smiling at all of them, but he sensed she was not exactly happy about today. Putting on a brave face, he thought. Even though she had never once said it aloud where Art could overhear her, he knew she was not thrilled about sending any of her children away from her, especially to live at Hogwarts. It didn't take a genius to figure that out.

But then again, what mother would be? Mums were like that, weren't they? Always wanting to pretend their kids were babies forever.

Merrie sat next to him, sniffling occasionally. She really doesn't want us to leave, he reckoned. Art felt a small pang of sympathy for his favorite little sister. I'll really miss her, too, he thought. And then he belched.

Now, as a typical ten-year-old's brain is often like to do, his mind switched gears. However, unlike a typical ten-year-old, he began to ponder the chemical composition of the gasses contained in the belch.... Whether or not any of them were combustible.... How the flash points of said gasses compared to that of petrol.... How small, controlled explosions (sort of like belches) propelled a Muggle car's engine.... How they would be driving almost a hundred and seventy miles today in their own car....

Once everyone had finished eating and pitched in to clear the table, it was time to load their trunks into the family Toyota. Fred and Art grunted and pushed and pulled and heaved the ungainly things down the stairs, out the door, down the pathway and into the garage. Their dad was waiting for them there with the rear door of the car open.

"Tell me again why we can't just Locomotor them, Dad?" Art asked, huffing with the effort while his father smiled amusedly at him.

"You think I got to Locomotor my trunk to school?" his father said jokingly.

"Probably not," Art said, affecting an exaggerated sigh and rolling his eyes, clearly indicating how lame he thought this excuse was.

"But you weren't a genius like us," joked Fred, grinning broadly.

"Smart-arse trumps clever any day of the week, son," he laughed. "And nobody beats me there." Then he reached into his pocket, winking at them, and the trunks hopped themselves into the car. "Don't tell your granny...."

Everybody piled into the car, and they started off by seven a.m. in order to make it to the train station on time. Art and his brother sat in the back seat on either side of Merrie. They spent the first part of the trip telling her jokes and funny stories to try to cheer her up. She would giggle at first, then sigh again each time, as if every story they told her reminded her of how much she would miss them when they were gone. They tried playing some road games instead, like Bury Your Cows and Road Sign Alphabet and Slugbug. Without having to say anything to each other, Fred and Art let Merrie win every time.

Art's younger sisters were sitting in the middle row. Joey got obnoxiously whiney about halfway through the three-hour-plus trip, so she got a "special" lollipop from Dad. Five minutes later she was fast asleep, and she napped the rest of the way into London. It made Art smile, remembering how he was nearly eight before he figured out that Dad always slipped Sleeping Draught into the sweets he doled out to them on road trips.

Looking out the window now, things began looking busier. There were more cars on the road, houses were closer together, and buildings were getting taller. It was not the first time he'd been to London, but this was the first time he was on his way to Kings Cross Station. Art glanced at the wristwatch Mum and Dad had given him on his first day of school five years ago. 10:05 a.m. Less than an hour to go!

They finally arrived at the large, busy station. His dad parked the car deep underground in the carpark next to the station, then gave them Muggle money with instructions to go fetch two trolleys for the trunks. Art became a bit distracted by the trolley vending machine, fascinated by the buttons and the note acceptor. He got down on his hands and knees to examine the cart release mechanism in action while Fred fed his money into the machine. Once they got both carts free, they raced each other back to car, nearly crashing into a van trying to exit the carpark, horn blaring. Art and his brother tugged and wrestled their trunks onto the trolleys, then the family took the lift up to the station.

Kings Cross Station was almost as busy as he remembered the airport being back when they were four and on their way to see Uncle Charlie in Romania. Muggles were rushing about everywhere. Real Muggle trains were waiting on tracks in every direction he looked. Art now fervently wished they had left the house even earlier, so he could spend more time exploring this amazing place! He was looking longingly at the trains on tracks nine and ten when his father began to speak to them.

"Watch these kids in front of you now," he said, indicating two second-year Hufflepuffs Art recognized by sight but not by name. "See how you must take it at a good clip? Then remember to clear out of the way so you don't get run over by whoever's coming behind. You two go through it first, and we'll be there in another minute."

His father paused, looking carefully about them to make sure no one was paying attention who shouldn't be. "Now... GO!"

Art pushed the heavy cart with all his might and quickly got up to speed. He felt a thrill of excitement as the wall loomed larger and larger in front of him. He tucked his head down, glancing at his watch one last time: 10:43 a.m. – nearly there! He heard an odd sort of whooshing sound as he passed through the space between the atoms of the wall, then loud gushes of steam being released by the magical engine on the track that had just appeared next to him.

Art stood frozen in place, amazed, attempting to process what had just happened to him. I have just passed through solid matter... because I wanted to!

"ARGH!" he cried out in pain three seconds later when Fred crashed his cart into his heels because he forgot to keep moving. "Watch where you're going, bloody git!" Art yelled.

"Why the hell did you stop, moron?" Fred yelled back.

"Open your goddamn eyes!"

"Move your stupid arse out of the way!"

"Shut up!"

"You shut up!"

Then Dad brought Mum and his sisters through the barricade. He began to chuckle once he saw them bickering, immediately assuming – correctly – what had happened. "Ten-forty-five, boys. Get your trunks on the train, you lot," he said.

Merrie was openly weeping as she hugged Art and his brother, making them promise to write her all the time. Even Mum was getting a bit teary, but at least she wasn't making a production of it. One hug and kiss for each of them, then she held out a box. "It's a little something to tide you over until you get to school. Promise to share it with each other, you two," she said softly, tousling first Art's hair, then Fred's.

"Mum!" they each protested, ducking away. Art took possession of the treat box.

Then Dad patted them on the shoulder and handed them a galleon each. "Get yourselves something from the trolley," he told them. "And please swear you'll write to Merrie, tomorrow morning at the latest," he added with a surreptitious roll of his eyes.

The brothers nodded, promising to do their best and try to behave and stay safe and write often and blah, blah, blah. They were finally rescued from the goodbyes that seemed as if they would never come to an end when Ted Lupin came dashing up to them.

"Fred! Art!" he cried, an elated look on his face.

This was to be Ted's first year at school, and the three of them had been talking about it all summer long. They'd made detailed plans for a year full of fun and adventures now that the three best friends would be living together at Hogwarts and far removed from the fun-dampening effects of parental retribution.

The clock on the wall said it was 10:55 – time to board the train and find a place to sit. Art's heart was racing, and he couldn't stop smiling in his excitement.

"Let's find a compartment," offered Fred, and the three boys climbed aboard the famous scarlet steam train.

As the train began to move, they leaned out the window to wave for a minute at the people they were leaving behind on the platform. Joey and Janie were jumping up and down, shouting and waving and laughing at the spectacle of the train. Dad had now picked Merrie up and was patting her back, trying to comfort her sobs. Mum and Ted's grandmother were waving back, arms about each other's waists, sad smiles on their faces.

The three boys sat back into their seats once the train had pulled out of sight of the station.

"What did your mum pack for you?" asked Ted, nodding to indicate the box on the seat next to Art.

Art shrugged, then opened the box. "Looks like chocolate chippies... banana muffins... and strawberry scones," he answered, pulling out a cookie.

"Share!" demanded Ted, holding out his hand as Fred reached in and drew out a scone. Ted liked to imagine that since he was slightly older than the twins, he could boss them around.

"Earn it," laughed Art through a mouthful of cookie.

"Impress us," added Fred, dangling the scone in front of their friend.

Ted pretended to sneeze, and two dark green squirming tentacles began growing out of his nostrils, reaching toward the box.

"Wicked!" cheered the twins in unison, holding out the box and offering a reward. Art reckoned one of the best things about Ted was that he was a Metamorphmagus, just like his mother had been, or so they'd been told. And despite the fact that his streaky blond hair always looked shaggy and unkempt no matter how recently it had been trimmed, and his bushy, mad-scientist eyebrows looked utterly out of place on his eleven-year-old face, and whenever he laughed really hard it sounded disturbingly like a howl, Ted was not a werewolf like his father had been.

Ted grabbed a muffin and began to eat it once he sniffed the tentacles back up into his nose.

For the first hour or so of the voyage, it was just the three of them. Ted asked loads of questions about the castle and the grounds, every one of them asked and answered five times before over the summer, but once more Art and Fred shared their knowledge enthusiastically with their oldest and dearest friend.

"Will we have any classes together at all?" Ted asked, slightly hopeful.

"Nah, mate," Fred replied gently while Art shook his head. Even though the three boys were the same age, all riding the Hogwarts Express for the first time, and tonight would finally be Sorted into houses, Art and Fred were first years in residence terms only. Academically, the twins were considered fifth years in all subjects but Charms. (Flitwick was now meeting with them privately for lessons in advanced Charm Theory once a week.) While Ted would be spending his time this year learning to use his new wand, Fred and Art would be preparing themselves to take OWLs in June.

Just then, there was a knock on the compartment door. The twins looked up and waved in a tall boy.

"There you are! I've been looking up and down this bloody train for you!" exclaimed Henry Babbitt, a fifth year Ravenclaw and friend of the twins. Art noticed he was wearing a "River and Wrackspurt" t-shirt; apparently he was a fan of his father's Muggle music show on the wireless. Somehow his dad's identity as co-host was still a secret, although pretty much everyone knew "River" was Roxy's dad, Lee Jordan. Art's father had been rather surprised to learn how popular the show currently was in the castle.

"Good summer, Henry?" asked Art.

Henry nodded. "You?"

"Excellent. Dad and Mum took us to India," Art said.

"Cool," said Henry, sounding impressed. "Did you finish the runes translation for O'Shaughnessy?" he asked, flopping down on the empty seat next to Ted.

Art nodded, but Fred answered, "Nearly... I'll do the last paragraph later today."

"Beast of a thing, wasn't it?" Henry moaned.

"Oh, yeah," Art agreed out of politeness. He'd thought it was no big deal, but didn't like the look on people's faces when he contradicted them about things like that. He glanced at his brother, who looked back at him with a slight smile. The only reason Fred hadn't finished was that he was even more of a homework procrastinator than Art.

"I'm Ted," Ted added, offering his hand to the newcomer. Art was impressed by the effort his friend had expended to do so. Ted didn't usually speak to strangers.

"Hey," said Henry in friendly greeting, shaking it. "You a first year?"

Ted nodded.

"Thought I didn't recognize you," commented Henry, who then turned back to the twins. "Which house do you think you'll Sort into?" he asked, bubbling with curiosity now that Ted had offered him a perfect segue into the subject he was most interested in.

"Gryffindor, most likely," Fred replied, rehashing a conversation he and Art had had at least a hundred times before. "The whole family's been Gryffindors for generations...."

"But it could be any of them, couldn't it?" asked Henry, sounding as if he was still trying to keep hope alive.

Art realized it was a strange and unique situation he and his brother found themselves in. Fred and Art were already well-known throughout the student body at Hogwarts, having attended classes for the last five years, but were only now going to be Sorted into one of the houses themselves. And it seemed that, because of their reputation for being clever, their fellow students must be figuring that opportunities for earning house points abounded if Art and his brother became their housemates. Added to the fact that they were well-liked in general, the Weasley twins found themselves in the position of being quite desirable commodities amongst their schoolmates. No other first years were being approached by older students, or asked a similar question. Art was somewhat pleased, but equally made uncomfortable by this fact.

Art shrugged. "Sure. But Dad would do his nut if we got put in Slytherin, that's for sure," he said.

"Probably disown us," agreed Fred, nodding.

"Make things a bit awkward at the hols, wouldn't it?" added Art, smiling in amusement at the thought.

"What's so bad about Slytherin?" asked Ted, trying to join the conversation.

"Oh, nothing, really," assured Art, sincerely. "I know lots of them, and they're fine, for the most part. Maybe a bit... self-centered? A few of them, anyway. But Dad... well, let's say he's just a bit prejudiced."

Fred added a loud, "Ha!" at this understatement. "Dad has a real doxy up his arse about Slytherin."

All four boys laughed at the crude humor.

"Have you seen Padraig?" Fred asked Henry, referring to another fifth year Ravenclaw boy they were friends with.

Henry smiled. "Erm... yeah. But don't bother him at the moment... he's busy."

"Did he leave the rune translation to the last minute as well?" asked Art.

Henry laughed, shaking his head. "Not busy with homework. Busy with Radha Singh."

The twins looked quizzically at Henry.

Henry rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I forget you two are only eleven."

"Ten, actually," Art corrected him, out of habit. They would not turn eleven until Halloween, in two months' time.

"Right. Reckon you'll figure it out in a few years," he said, chuckling, as he rose to leave. "See you later...."

Now that Ted had his friends' attention once more, he began asking them about the different Hogwarts houses. The twins explained to their friend the various pros and cons of each house: the locations and attributes of the dorms and common rooms – for they had often been invited to study with their classmates from all four houses – as well as the unifying characteristics for each one.

"But isn't that boring – if everyone in your house is the same as you?" Ted asked.

"Well, just because all the Hufflepuffs are determined and Ravenclaws are clever doesn't mean there aren't loads of differences between individual people. You're not guaranteed to like everyone in your own house, and there's no reason you can't be best mates with someone from another house," argued Fred.

"Yeah," agreed Art. "You just might have a few more things in common with your housemates, personality-wise," he added. "And that could be a good thing or a bad thing, I suppose. I mean, if you believe that all Slytherins are power-hungry, back-stabbing megalomaniacs, then it would be easy to imagine they all hate each other for being the same way. But I find, actually, that while they may not be best mates, they all usually scratch each other's backs, if you get my meaning. Quite an old boys' club, the Slytherin House. One of the most extensive professional networking societies there is."

Ted's brow furrowed as he tried to understand what his friends were trying to explain to him. He didn't really know what they meant about Slytherins, and had no idea what the word "networking" meant, but wasn't feeling in the mood to ask at the moment, for two more students – girls this time – invited themselves into the compartment. Ted found himself frozen into muteness, intimidated by the fifteen-year-old girls who casually sat next to him as he scooted over toward the outside window.

"Did you hear there's to be a new Muggle Studies professor this term?" one of the girls asked.

Art and Fred looked at each other, shrugged, then shook their heads, looking back at the girls.

"My father told me.... He's on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, you know," the other girl added.

Art and Fred rolled their eyes, as if that particular tidbit of information had been mentioned rather frequently before, then nodded wearily.

"Get on with it, Lydia," urged the first girl, pursing her lips in impatience.

"Right, well... apparently, some half-blood witch named Nimue Prewitt got herself hired for the job."

Art and Fred both looked at Lydia with narrowed eyes.

"Some half-blood, you say?" Fred asked quietly, warningly.

"Why would anyone's bloodline matter?" Art growled, glaring at the girl.

"Oh, it doesn't! Of course not! I mean...."

"Merlin's eyebrows, Lydia! How stupid can you be?" the second girl chastised her gossipy companion.

Lydia was flustered. "I didn't mean anything by it! I swear!"

Art continued to glare at Lydia, but Fred decided to assume it was an innocent slip of the tongue, and let the matter go. "Prewitt, huh? Our granny's maiden name was Prewitt..." he mused.

"Oh, maybe you're related?" Lydia asked in a desperately casual tone of voice, hoping the conversation could be salvaged.

"Probably," he said. "I mean, our family's so big, odds are we're related to most people by now, I expect," he said with a smile.

"This a relative?" the second girl asked, nodding toward the boy cowering next to her.

The truth was yes, Art and Fred were very distantly related to Ted, since his mother had been descended from the Black family, just like their Grandpa Arthur. But this was far too complicated a subject to discuss with the girls at present. "Nah, this is our mate, Ted Lupin. Ted, this is Lydia Windsor and Elise Clevenger, fifth year Hufflepuffs."

"Hi," the girls said in unison, looking at him.

Ted swallowed and choked out a somewhat garbled greeting, making them smile.

"Lupin.... Where have I heard that name before?" Lydia asked.

Ted shrugged. His face was beginning to shine with nervous perspiration, and his irises were fluctuating randomly through a rainbow of hues.

Elise leaned over and whispered something into Lydia's ear, and Lydia's expression changed from haughty curiosity to sincere sympathy. "Oh," she said with a sad note in her voice. "You poor thing," she said softly as she patted Ted's knee.

Art suspected Elise had just reminded Lydia of the fact that Ted's parents names were to be found inscribed on the war memorial on school grounds. Remus and Nymphadora Lupin had both fought and died at the Battle of Hogwarts, along with Art's Uncle Fred. He looked at his friend quizzically. Ted was frozen stiff, staring at the girl's hand on his knee as if it were a venomous snake about to strike.

"Well, we better get back to the Prefect's car," said Elise.

"Yeah.... Hope you guys get Sorted into Hufflepuff!" said Lydia by way of goodbye.

After the door closed behind them, Fred spoke up. "Ted, dude.... You've really got to loosen up around girls, mate!" he joked.

"They're everywhere, man," Art teased. "Nearly fifty percent of the population, people reckon...."

Ted smirked. "Very funny. You lot are hilarious."

"Seriously, Ted. You don't get all freaked out like this with our girls at home," Fred continued, referring to the raft of his female siblings and cousins they'd all grown up with together at the school.

"That's different," Ted argued.

"How d'you mean?" asked Art.

"I dunno. It just is!" he replied, testily. "Can we talk about something else, please?"

"Like what?"

"Flobberworms, for all I care," Teddy barked.

"Maybe it's for the best you clam up around girls if all you can think of to talk about is flobberworms," teased Fred.

"Not really your best foot forward, is it?" added Art, wrinkling his nose.

Ted launched himself at his friends, wrestling with them until he had Fred in a headlock.

"A little help here!" Fred called out to his twin, giggling but unable to escape.

Art was laughing so hard he was incapable of answering, much less coming to the aid of his brother. He fell off the seat instead, landing on the floor of the car with a loud thud.

"Say it!" commanded Ted with a smile, forcing Fred to bend nearly in half.

"I give!" Fred gasped.

Ted released him, then shoved him forcefully into the seat cushions once more. Just then, a little old dear toddled by pushing a cart loaded with treats. "The trolley!" all three of them cried at once and leaped out of the compartment.

Art and his brother bought a sampling of nearly everything, including some sweets from their dad's shop. Art bought one of his favorites: Weasley's Bubbly Gum. The compartment filled up with iridescent, long-lasting orbs as all three boys blew bubbles while they chewed.

As the afternoon wore on, the twins dug out their books and began to study. Ted was left with nothing to do but absentmindedly skewer a few of the remaining bubbles with his new wand when they floated within reach, so he stared out the window and watched the scenery flash by.

Well after the sun had set, the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station. Like all the rest of the students from third years on up, the twins knew the town quite well. Their father had been taking them back and forth from Hogsmeade to Devon, to and from school for years. Every morning, they'd arrived via the Floo Network to the shop on High Street, then walked up the road together. Dad would wave goodbye to them at the gate in the mornings, watching to make sure they actually got to school. Then, when lessons were over for the day, they'd dash back down the lane and into the shop, where Dad had set aside a table in the back room for them to do their homework. As they got a bit older, they would often spend more time in the school library or studying with friends, but would always report back to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, Hogsmeade branch in time to head home with Dad for supper.

But tonight, like all the first years, they'd be crossing the lake by boat. As Fred and Art exited the train and milled around in the confusion of the station, lots of older students greeted them on their way to board the carriages.

"Firs' years this way!" a deep voice boomed out from nearby, startling a few of the new students, including Ted.

"Hagrid!" the twins cried together. Art threw an arm around Ted's shoulder and pulled him along as they ran up to greet their old friend.

"Hello, Art! Hello, Fred! Who've yeh brought wi' yeh this year?" Hagrid asked cheerily as all the other first years turned to look, wondering who these three boys were, and why they rated personal attention from the gargantuan Hogwarts professor and groundskeeper.

"This is our mate, Ted Lupin, Hagrid," Art explained. He reckoned that Hagrid would likely know Ted's parents, just like he knew nearly every one of the magical families of Hogwarts' students. He further hoped that some of the extra attention paid to him and his brother could be shared with Ted and might cheer him a little. Art sensed his friend was beginning to chafe from it, a bit.

"Lupin, eh? It's very nice to meet you, young Ted. I knew your mum and dad, I did. Excellent wizards, your parents," Hagrid said kindly.

Teddy's eyes were large as saucers, but he smiled at the enormous man addressing him. "M-my dad used to be a professor here a long time ago," he stuttered, repeating a tale often told to him by his grandmother.

"Aye, he was. Jus' about the best Defense Against the Dark Arts perfessor we ever had here at Hogwarts, and we've certainly had a lot of 'em over the years," agreed Hagrid with a smile. Then he turned away from the boys and directed all the first year students to begin boarding the boats that would carry them across the lake and into the castle.

Art gripped the edge of the boat tightly as he watched the glittering castle looming closer before them. He had dreamt of this moment for more than five years, ever since Aunt Hermione had given him the Hogwarts: a History book. His heart was nearly in his throat with excitement. He looked over to his twin brother and saw an expression of enrapt anticipation on his face as well. Fred smiled back at him.

Once inside, they were met by the Deputy Headmaster, Professor Flitwick, who explained the Sorting process for the Muggle-borns amongst them – everyone else already knew and were impatient to get going with it already. Then he led them into the Great Hall. Once he began reading their names, Art quickly realized he and Fred would likely be the very last to be Sorted due to their surname. His mind began to wander once more, looking around him.

He'd been here before – for lunch and study sessions with classmates – but never at night. It was beautiful: candles floating above them, tables decorated with fancy table service, the enchanted starry sky above. He was reminded for a moment about the one his father had made for their room at home.

"Theodore Lupin," called Flitwick, snatching Art's attention back to the stage.

Art and Fred watched as the short wizard placed the tatty-looking yet ancient and wise Sorting Hat onto Ted's head. Their friend's eyes flashed nervously through an inhuman palette of colors. It almost looked like they were swirling, the colors were changing so fast.

"Gryffindor!" shouted the hat. The Gryffindor table applauded politely. Ted looked pleased as he hopped off the stool and joined his new housemates.

Art noted that as the crowd of first years progressively began to thin around them, most of the eyes in the room were directed at him and his twin. Students at every table were looking at him, whispering amongst each other, nodding their heads toward him. A few that met his eye would smile encouragingly, wave, or mouth, Good luck! One bloke close by even gave him a thumbs-up sign and said, "Think Hufflepuff!"

If Art had been either a paranoid or shy person (like poor old Ted), he would've been in perfect hell. As it was, the pressure was becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He knew it was a time-honored tradition for Sorting to happen this way, but he couldn't help wishing it could be done in a slightly less public manner. A broom closet would be preferable at the moment.

"Weasley, Arthur."

Finally. It would be over in a moment, he thought, as he walked confidently up to the stool. Professor Flitwick set the Sorting Hat gently on his head.

"Hmm," sighed a quiet voice from inside the dark brim. Art knew he was the only one who could hear the hat at the moment and listened with fascinated interest as it began to do its work.

It dismissed Hufflepuff right away. "You have the ability to work hard," the hat assured him, "but are seldom put to the test. Your presence in Hufflepuff would serve to discourage your housemates rather than inspire them."

Slytherin was eliminated next. "Ah, yes.... You have ambition, but not for power.... No point corrupting your purer instincts," it explained. "Save your questing nature for the pursuit of knowledge, rather than influence."

"A nimble mind... a noble heart.... Gryffindor or Ravenclaw? Gryffindor or Ravenclaw?" it kept repeating, puzzling over the issue. "Which is dearest... heart or mind?"

Art's brain answered for him without a second's thought: Mind.

"Very well then, my boy..." the hat chuckled into his ear. "Ravenclaw!" the hat bellowed to the crowd.

Thunderous cheers erupted from the Ravenclaw table as Art's new housemates stood to welcome him. He received a few hesitant smiles but otherwise sportsmanlike applause and claps on the back from some disappointed Hufflepuffs as he made his way past them to his new table.

Art glanced over at the Gryffindor table to find Ted, who had a crestfallen look on his face, apparently disappointed they would not be rooming together after all. He offered his friend a sympathetic smile. Next, he glanced back up to the front of the room, beyond the stool at the staff table behind it. Professor Flitwick looked ecstatic. Professor Longbottom looked surprised but was smiling all the same. Headmistress McGonagall was smiling ruefully and clapping with the rest of the room.

"There's still one more of 'em," he heard a Slytherin girl mutter loudly to her neighbor as he sat down.

Art winked encouragement to Fred, the very last kid to be Sorted that night, as he strode up to the stage. It was a similarly lengthy examination as the room held its breath, with Art becoming more panicked with each silent, passing moment. He'd never thought about the possibility they might not be rooming together until that very moment.

"Ravenclaw!" the Sorting Hat cried out once more, then fell silent for another year.

Groans of dashed hopes came from the other three tables, but they were barely audible over the screams of exultation from Ravenclaw. Both twins were hugged and patted and hands shaken by all their new housemates until they were nearly dizzy. Art even felt his cheek kissed by some unidentified girl. It was hard not to feel elated from so much adulation.

The feeling dissipated only slightly throughout the enormous feast that suddenly appeared before them. Art and Fred spent the meal getting to know the other first year Ravenclaws, committing their names to memory by making a point of introducing them to all the older students who came by to congratulate the twins.

On the way out of the Great Hall, Art glanced over to the Gryffindor table once more and waved goodbye to Ted. He noticed with relief that Ted seemed a bit happier now; perhaps he'd made a few new friends over dinner.

"See you tomorrow," called Art to his best mate.

"At breakfast," added Fred, smiling as well.

"Sure. See you tomorrow," replied Ted with a half-smile as they followed their respective Prefects out the door.

*

"Oh, Merrie... look what came for you today," sang Annie, watching her daughter's eyes light up in delight as she waved the morning's owl post in front of her.

"My letter!" she squealed, dashing up to her and snatching it from Annie's hands.

"Why don't you read it to us?" asked George, happy for his little girl and relieved her big brothers came through on their promise. He heaped a pile of diced fruit onto his plate as she tore open the envelope.

"Okay, Daddy," she said, and began to read aloud.

September 2, 2009

Art & Fred

"Wow," sighed Merrie with a dreamy smile on her face.

"Where's Art and Fred?" asked Joey for the hundredth time.

"At Hogwarts," answered Merrie and Annie in unison.

Annie walked over to stand below the girls' bedroom. "Janie! You should be dressed and down here by now!" she called up, then turned back to the breakfast table.

"George?" she asked, alarmed by the fact that he sat frozen in his seat, a strawberry speared on his fork held motionless in midair.

"Not in Gryffindor?" he mumbled quietly, a stunned, puzzled look on his face.

"No, that was Teddy who Sorted into Gryffindor. The boys are in Ravenclaw," she said, repeating the information contained in the letter. She had been educated ad nauseam about the four Hogwarts houses over the past summer by the twins. "What's wrong?"

"Not in Gryffindor..." he repeated, as if the information was just beginning to sink in. "I'll be damned.... Not in Gryffindor?!"

"Do you have a reset button somewhere?" Annie teased, gently guiding his fork-wielding hand to put the strawberry in his mouth. "I thought you said it didn't matter?"

George chewed thoughtfully, then swallowed. "You're right. It doesn't really. It's just that... well, I guess I just assumed... since all the rest of us, for ages now.... Ravenclaw? Really?"

"That's what they said," Annie replied, beginning to giggle.

"You think this is funny?" he said, smiling.

"Isn't it?" she asked.

"Being Sorted into a house isn't a joking matter," he scolded her.

"But your reaction is," she scolded back. "Aren't the Ravenclaws supposed to be the clever ones?"

"Brains aren't everything," he retorted.

"That doesn't carry much weight, coming as it does from someone with absolutely none," she teased back.

"Like you would know brains if they bit you on the...."

"Oops! Sorry, Mummy," cried Joey as the sound of cereal and milk splattering on the floor interrupted the adults.

"That's all right, Joey," laughed Annie as she dashed for a dish towel to clear up the mess. "You just saved Daddy from letting his mouth get him into trouble again!"