two updates within three hours omg, who held nish hostage? 

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chapter four: the sorting hat
word count: 3.5K
warnings: writing that isn't proof-read!
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"IT'S NOT REAL, THE CEILING." Hermione explained Azalea as they walked into the Great Hall, endless chatter sounding around them. "It's just bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History." 

Castor, who heard the last part, smiled once he realized he wasn't the only one who had read the book. 

Draco just rolled his eyes, though he wished that he could've said it first. 

McGonagall led the first-years towards the front of the Great Hall towards a podium where a ragged looking hat sat on a stool. It was brown and had creases which roughly resembled a face, and looked quite old. 

"Will you wait along here, please?" McGonagall asked — stated — before stopping in front of the podium, facing the children, the scroll still in her hands. "Now, before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words."

A man with a long, silver white beard and similar hair rose from the table, a blue pointed hat on his head.

Azalea immediately recognized him as Albus Dumbledore, the man whose picture had been on the card she found in her Chocolate Frog. 

"I have a few start of term notices I wish to announce. The first years please note that the dark forest is strictly forbidden to all students. Also, our caretaker, Mr. Filch," he said, gesturing towards an old, rather sullen looking man with a cat in his hands. The cat had red, gleaming eyes and looked quite scary, "has asked me to remind you that the 3rd floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death." 

While Dumbledore presumed that the children might look scared by the last statement, most of them only looked bewildered, some of them questioning their decision of agreeing to attend Hogwarts.

"Thank you." Dumbledore completed his speech.

"When I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses." McGonagall instructed after the headmaster sat down. "But first, the hat has something to say. . ." 

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!" 

The first years looked quite amused but also surprised that a hat could talk, and soon, the Hall was filled with the sound of their claps. McGonagall waited for the applause to die down, and next, she called, 

"Hermione Granger." 

The said girl took a deep breath, nervousness painted on her face. Azalea gave her a reassuring smile, which she returned — a bit shakily. 

"Oh, no." she whispered to herself as she walked up. "Okay, relax." 

"Mental that one, I'm telling you," Ron said, eyeing Hermione as she sat down on the stool. Castor frowned but didn't say anything, just watched the sorting. 

Azalea, on the other hand, gave Ron's ankle a kick. 

"Ah, right then...hmm...right," the Sorting Hat hummed in thought, its face scrunching up in notion. "Okay...Gryffindor!" 

The table with children wearing red, gold and black robes rose up in cheers. The Granger girl walked up to the table with a grin painted on her face, her eyes cheerful. 

"Draco Malfoy," McGonagall announced.

The blonde haired boy walked up to the podium with a smirk curling on his lips. The hat had barely touched his head when — 

"SLYTHERIN!" 

Azalea frowned when Draco didn't even acknowledge her or Ron, just smirked and walked up to his house table. Weird. He was different on the train, wasn't he? 

"There isn't a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin," she heard a boy whisper, and then her frown deepened. Surely, there won't be a house reserved for supposedly bad people. The Hat can't depict the future now, can it? 

Sighing, she diverted her gaze towards the teacher's table, when she noticed a greasy-haired professor gazing, no, glaring at her. As soon as he caught her gaze, a sharp, shooting pain flared up in her scar, to which she winced. 

"What's wrong?" Ron questioned, placing a hand on Azzie's shoulder. "Is everything alright, Azzie?" 

"It's nothing." Azalea gave a tiny smile and re-assuring shrug. "Just lack of sleep, that's it."

Ron nodded and patted her shoulder before going back to looking at the sorting.

Soon enough, Susan Bones had been sorted into Hufflepuff, Padma Patil in Ravenclaw, and Parvati Patil in Gryffindor. 

Time seemed to be going agonizingly slow once again, unlike the way it flew when she was on the train. All Azalea wanted to know was that she was supposed to be at Hogwarts, despite the fact she'd already been recognized numerous times on the journey here. She just wanted to know if she'd found a safe place, or if she'd have to be sent back to that hellhole she thought she escaped. 

Much to her pleasure, her name was next on the list after Daphne Greengrass.

Unfortunately for her, the whispers that followed her name were enough to make her gulp down in nervousness. Ron perhaps noticed it, and gave her a reassuring pat on the back, "Don't worry, Azzie, the hat won't eat you. Fred was lying." 

"Azalea Potter?"

"The Azalea Potter?" 

"The Girl Who Lived?"

"She's so beautiful!" 

"Her scar! I can see it!" 

The last look Azalea had was students craning their necks and sitting up straighter to get a good look at her before the Sorting Hat's large brim covered her face. 

She took a deep breath, sudden nervousness washing over her.

"Hmm...difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage I see, not a bad mind, either." the hat whispered in her ear. "There's talent, oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you? "

"Not Slytherin, not Slytherin," despite herself, she couldn't help but whisper. A voice lingered in the back of her head, the same voice that reminded her that all the bad wizards had been in Slytherin.

"Not Slytherin, eh?" the hat repeated, making her wince in embarrassment. "Are you sure? You could be great, you know. It's all here in your head. And Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness! There's no doubt about that. No?" 

When Azalea stayed silent, the hat continued. Perhaps. . .

"Well, if you're sure... better be... GRYFFINDOR!" 

The red and gold house cheered immensely, shouts of 'Potter' sounding along the hall as excitement radiated off of the table. As Azalea got off of the stool, her eyes locked with Draco's, whose face seemed to harden.

Not all Slytherins are bad was what she told herself, wasn't it? She face-palmed. She had a way of making her friends hate her. 

Many more students were sorted, some in Ravenclaw, some in Hufflepuff, some in  Slytherin, but there were quite a few Gryffindors — including Seamus Finnigan, Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown. 

And then the princey was called, "Castor Walker!"

Once again, silence blanketed them with its thickness, and Castor felt suffocated as he heard the whispers of his soon-to-be classmates.

"Castor Walker!"

"The prince!"

"The Boy Who Lived — he's here too!"

"I've heard he's never been out of the castle."

"I can't see the scar!"

"That's because it's on his chest, idiot!" 

"He's so cute!"

The last comment made Castor smirk. 

Maybe he got his ego from his dad. 

He too, like Azalea, took a last glimpse of the eager children before the hat covered his vision, humming in thought. 

"Ah! Another Walker!" the Sorting Hat exclaimed. "Let's see where you're going off to."

A moment of silence passed as the Sorting Hat looked through his head. 

"Where should we put you, eh? Gryffindor like your father or. . .alright then. Let's see, too sarcastic for Hufflepuff—"

"What do you mean?" 

The Sorting Hat grunted in annoyance, but Castor merely shrugged. 

"Ah, yes. Cunning you are, you would make a great Slytherin." 

Castor squeezed his eyes shut, the same sentence ringing in his ears. 

'No', he thought, unknown to the fact that the hat could read his mind. 

"No?" the hat repeated, making Castor groan. 

"Not Slytherin huh? Well. . . if you're so sure, better be Ravenclaw!"

The brown haired prince grinned, hopping off of the stool. He shot a charming smile towards McGonagall before heading off towards the cheering table. 

'Just like his mother, his ways are.' McGonagall thought, shaking her head.

Castor plopped down in front of a boy, who introduced himself as Janus.

"I'm Castor," he too, introduced, holding his hand out for a handshake. 

Janus rolled his eyes playfully, "I think the whole bloody school know that, Walker." 

Soon, Ronald was called up on the podium, "Ronald Weasley!"

The Weasley - who now looked quite pale - walked up, sitting on the stool just like every other student. 

"Ah, another Weasley!" the hat exclaimed as it settled itself on Ron's head. "I know just what to do with you. Gryffindor!"

Ron let out a sigh of relief and gave a simper as he hopped off of the stool sitting on the table where his brothers gave him a pat on the back as acknowledgement. 

Azalea's eyes scanned the High Table as the Sorting continued, her sight stopping on the headmaster who was already looking at her. She smiled slightly and Dumbledore lifted his goblet slightly, as if congratulating her. 

.  .  .

Later on, after all the first years were sorted, the children were chatting amongst themselves. Hermione was talking to one of the Gryffindor prefects - whom Azalea knew as Percy Weasley after he introduced himself ( quite excitedly yet formally ) - about the things they would be learning. 

Azalea, however, couldn't stop looking around. The flags that hung above the tables, the smiling children, the chattering teachers, and then the quiet ones. Hogwarts was everything she'd been imagining and a lot more. 

"I'm half and half," she heard Seamus Finnigan say. "Me dad's a Muggle, Mum's a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out."

This made her chuckle, thinking back to when she found out she was a witch. 

A clinking sound caught her attention, and soon she realized it was McGonagall, dinging her cup.

"Your attention, please," the professor spoke, turning her gaze towards Albus Dumbledore - as did everyone else. 

He wanted quite a lot of attention, didn't he? 

"Let the feast...begin," Dumbledore announced, opening his arms as to welcome them. He sat back down just as the food magically appeared on the plates. 

Azalea and Castor gaped in surprise, as did most of the first-years.

See, Castor had been introduced to magic at an early age, but then, he'd never seen magic be used on such a huge scale. Besides, sure, he had seen many meals - some even bigger, but that was occasional, like on an important festival or when someone came to visit the royals.

The Potter - who had never seen so much food in her life - was shocked. Even though she wanted to try everything, her appetite didn't seem to agree considering all she ate at home were leftovers. 

This was different though. He felt a feeling of acceptance as he saw his friends dig into the food, just as she did. Though strangers, they couldn't realize just how similar their lives had been so far.

Friends. 

Something they'd never had before. 

.  .  .

"Say, Percy, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" 

"Oh, that's Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house," Percy explained shortly, giving a tiny smile to Azzie.

"What's he teach?" Azalea continued.

"Potions. But everyone knows it's the Dark Arts he fancies," Percy explained, cutting into the steak. "He's been after Quirrell's job for years."

Ronald, who had just finished eating a chicken wing, reached for another piece. 

"Ahh!" he let out a scream making everyone turn their heads over him, only to see a ghost floating out from the bowl of the chicken wings. 

"You scared me," Azalea muttered. Ron, whose eyes were wide, turned towards his friend. 

"This isn't scary?" the Weasley gaped. Castor shook his head, unaffected. 

"Nope, it's more amusing than it is scary," she replied, reaching onto her plate for some more salad. 

Azalea soon came to know the ghost as Sir Nicolas - or Nearly Headless Nick, as everyone called him. 

"Nearly Headless?" Seamus asked, his eyes wide with innocent curiosity. "How can you be Nearly Headless?" 

Sir Nicolas threw a look of annoyance towards the Irish boy before pulling on his ear. 

"Like this," the ghost said, pulling his head down. A clear view of his inner organs was on display- which made Azalea choke on her water. 

Castor came to know his house ghost too, — Helena Ravenclaw, the ghost of a lady so calm yet so complicated at the same time. She was like a storm of emotions being held in, a dam ready to break at any given point. 

Then there were the other two ghosts, — the Bloody Baron for Slytherin, the reason for his name a mystery, and the Fat Friar for Hufflepuff, a cheery, friendly ghost who'd come over to every table and befriended some first years. 

.  .  .

"Seamus, that picture's moving!" Neville exclaimed excitedly, pointing towards one of the many moving portraits. 

"Look at that one, Azzie!" Ron exclaimed, pointing towards a little boy's painting who stared at her with flustered cheeks. She merely raised his eyebrows, unaware of the reason for his flushed state.

"I think he fancies you," called out a familiar voice, one she knew she'd heard a lot but couldn't but her finger to. Turning around, she met eyes with a sheepish Janus looking at her with a grin.

"Janus?" Azalea questioned, noticing that Ron had already gone off and started talking with Seamus and Dean. "Wh — I'm assuming you knew I was going to be here, as well."

Janus nodded, then noticed the frown on Azzie's face. She continued, "Then. . .then why didn't any of you say anything? I'm considering that Calli and Antha are here too." 

Janus nodded once again, then sighed, "It's quite complicated, Azalea. I'm not sure mum would like me of all people explaining it all to you." 

"Miss Emma? Is she — how is she?" 

"She's great, and so are Calantha and Calypso." Janus shoved his hands in his pockets. "They were scared that you'd yell at them so here I am, sacrificing myself." 

"I'm not scary," mumbled Azalea, restraining her urge to yell at Janus, but rather pulled him away from the crowd and punched his shoulder before giving him a hug. 

"Yeah, sure you're not." 

Soon they pulled away, Janus promising to explain everything the next day, and the boy headed off to the Ravenclaw common room. 

"Password?" the large painting of a woman in a pink dress asked when the kids reached the common room, a wine glass in her hand. 

"Caput Draconis," Percy announced loudly, as to make sure all the children heard him. The portrait nodded and opened up, revealing the Gryffindor common room. 

Red and gold was splattered everywhere, blanketing the room in everything Gryffindor. The couch and the fireplace, the paintings and the walls, everything seemed so warm and so inviting. 

"Gather 'round here. Welcome to the Gryffindor Common Room!" Percy announced. "Boy's dormitories, upstairs and down to your left. Girls, the same on your right. You'll find that your belongings have already been brought up." 

"Off to bed, now. You'll have your first day starting tomorrow." 

.  .  .

CASTOR WAS AMAZED by the feast. 

There was so much to eat, so much to talk about, and so so much to learn. There were some purebloods and half-bloods, who didn't hesitate in sharing about all the fascinating ways their summers went by, then there were the kids who had older siblings so they knew everything about Hogwarts — about the nice professors and the strict ones, the holidays and how they were celebrated, and what all they'd learn and what subjects sucked the most.

History of Magic had taken the cup, as of now. 

"So, that's Professor Snape?" Castor pointed to the greasy haired professor who wouldn't stop glaring at Azalea. 

"Yeah. Mum says he's a nasty one too, had always wanted to go for Defence Against the Dark Arts." Janus, his first friend in the Ravenclaw house, had no hesitance in his answer. 

As for his brother, darling Zade had been sorted into Slytherin. 

Though Castor was skeptical at first, he didn't mind it anymore when he saw Zade enjoying his time at the Slytherin table, albeit there were a few kids who gave him nasty looks. 

Later on, when they were done with the dinner and were being led to the common room, Castor found himself walking alone, since Janus apparently forgot his sweater back in the Great Hall. 

Castor offered to accompany him, of course, but Janus said that since he'd been here earlier, he'd be there and back in a dash. 

The staircases leading them up to the common room had such an intricate pattern that captivated Castor's attention for a moment. The paintings were animated, and most of them kept glancing at the children, giving them welcoming smiles, while the others thought that making scary faces was funny for the kids. 

When the children were stopped at the entrance of the common room, their prefect, Alexandra, spoke, "Our common room is said to have one of the most unique entrances, since we do not have a password, but a riddle to be answered correctly. There's no one answer to the riddle, but there could be many." 

Then, Alexandra knocked on the door, and the bronze knocker — in the shape of an eagle, no less — questioned, "Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?"

"A circle has no beginning." 

As the door opened on its own accord, the children gasped in awe, and some even applauded Alexandra's wit. 

"Now, now. The girls' and the boys' dorms are separate, obviously. I'll be leading the girls to their rooms, and Matthew the boys. The boys cannot enter the girls dormitory, — the stairs have been charmed to not let you do so. Your rooms already have all your belongings, so you can be up and ready for your first day in school, tomorrow! Good night, and girls, with me." 

Matthew, slightly less enthusiastic but welcoming nevertheless, lead the boys to their dorms. 

"Alexandra said that you can't get into the girls' dorm but. . .there are loopholes." he leaned against the dormitory's door, the one Castor was assigned. "If you ever need help with that, just come to me, g'night kids." 

Castor just plopped down on his bed, as did the other boys, none of them bothering to introduce themselves — the weight of the day finally tired them down, and it seemed as if they all agreed that they'd talk tomorrow. 

So he shut his mind off, going into the deep realm of sleep. 

.  .  . 

IT SEEMED AS IF sleep did not want to greet Azalea tonight. 

She'd been tossing and turning in bed the entire of the last hour, no trace of melatonin running through her body — not even as she shut the curtains to the windows, and pulled the blankets on the top her of head. 

She gave out a sigh, finally giving up on the radical notion that she might be getting some sleep tonight. 

She snuggled up in her blanket against the window, gazing at the scenery, — the school grounds and the mountains beyond. 

Perhaps her anxiety got the best of her, for she was too scared of being woken up and told that all these few days, this week where she'd felt the happiest, — was nothing but a mere dream, her imagination playing tricks on her. 

She stroked Estrella, wondering whether Hogwarts was actually real, or if she'd just bumped her head and has been hallucinating so far. 

But when that warm blanket of sleep creeped up on her, engulfing her in a hug, she couldn't help but doze off. 

Whether it's a dream or not, that time would tell.