The train ride passed more quickly than Betty expected. The twins had fallen into a long debate with Cormac, which left her in relative peace to return to her book. At one point she slipped away to the train loo to change into her uniform. She had chosen the skirt, dressed quickly, and used the charm her mother had shown her the night before to make the tie perfectly straight. Betty noticed the care her mother had put into it, but she didn't care much for such fuss—it worked well enough, and that was enough for her. At least her mother had been right about one thing—with the shirt under her jumper, the wool didn't itch.
When she returned, a boy with dark skin and neat dreadlocks was now sitting with them, talking at an unstoppable pace to Fred and George about Quidditch. Do boys ever have another topic? Fred, perhaps sensing her impatience, cut him off mid-sentence with an exaggerated sweep of his hand.
"Lee, this is Betty—our new partner in crime. Betty, this is Lee—our dorm mate and best friend."
Her heart skipped at Fred's choice of words. Partner in crime. That was not a title she disliked.
"Hi," Lee said brightly, jumping to his feet and offering his hand. Betty shook it, a little hesitant.
Over by the window, Cormac kept his face turned toward the blur of trees, his expression close to a pout. Betty's eyes drifted back to the twins. Their uniforms were a mess—ties hanging crooked, shirts half untucked, cloaks slipping from their shoulders. Compared to them, she looked terribly neat.
Fred leaned closer with a sly grin. "Looking rather proper there, Betty. Off to a reception with Dumbledore, are you?"
Betty stuck out her tongue and dipped into an exaggerated curtsey. "Maybe I am."
The boys broke into loud laughter—even Cormac showed a small grin.
"We were just talking about trying out for the house team," George said.
"And our chances are looking good," Fred added, grinning wider.
Lee rolled his eyes, though his smile betrayed him. "Unfair. Your big brother happens to be the captain of the Gryffindor team."
"Hey, we've got talent to back it up!" the twins protested in near perfect unison.
Betty caught Cormac's eyes rolling this time.
Around midday, the Trolley Witch rattled past their compartment, her cart filled with sweets and pastries. Betty bought a pumpkin pasty and a packet of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, planning to share them later. Then she pulled out the lunch her mother had packed so carefully that morning. Lee, in contrast, picked up a Cauldron Cake and a Fizzing Whizbee. Cormac had gone straight for five packs of Chocolate Frogs, along with a pasty and a couple of Cauldron Cakes. Fred and George unwrapped the sandwiches their mother had made, adding a pack of Chocolate Frogs—destined for Betty later—and a liquorice wand each.
Cormac tore open his first box immediately. One frog leapt straight from his lap and vanished under the seat, but he barely seemed to notice; his eyes were fixed on the card inside.
"Not Merlin again," he muttered, clearly unimpressed.
He held the card up briefly before passing it to Betty.
"You can have it if you want. I've got over five hundred in total at home."
Betty took it while glancing at the picture. Merlin lifted his wand in greeting, just as he always did.
"Thanks, but I've already got him. Four times, actually."
Before Betty could slip it into her bag—more for politeness than actual interest—Lee leaned forward.
"Can I have that one, Betty?"
Cormac blinked, clearly surprised. "You don't have Merlin?" His eyebrows shot up. "He's one of the most common cards—along with Dumbledore, of course."
Lee grinned, tilting his head. "I do have Merlin, but I'm making up a card game with those."
Cormac shrugged and ripped open another box, then another. At least he had stopped talking about Quidditch. None of the new cards impressed him, and he shoved a frog into his mouth, chewing with faint irritation.
Betty turned a page in her book, then paused at a familiar name.
"Agrippa?" she asked curiously. "May I have that one? I'm missing it."
Cormac looked up. "Sure."
His face faintly lit up as he passed the card over. Betty slid it carefully between two pages, keeping it flat.
"You know who he was, right?" Cormac leaned forward. "Most people think he was just some theoretician, but he was one of the earliest modern Defensive Magic inventors. Without him, a lot of curses couldn't even be contained properly. Gets overlooked all the time."
"I preferred his take on magical responsibility," Betty replied, without looking up from her book.
Cormac waved a hand, a little impatient. "Yeah, they mention that sometimes, but that's secondary. The real achievement was his analysis of spell structure."
He spoke so quickly that he almost stumbled over his words, paused briefly to catch his breath, and then continued.
"If you ever want to study it properly, I can show you a few things. My whole collection's organised by topic."
Betty let him talk, her book resting loosely on her lap. She listened only half-attentively, instead looking out of the window and observing the rugged landscape, which was becoming increasingly mountainous, and thick, grey clouds rolling over them. His voice grew louder as he warmed up to the subject, explaining how the first Anti Boggart Incantation had been built on Agrippa's theories.
George coughed lightly, and Fred murmured under his breath, "What a know-it-all."
Lee leaned back, nibbling at his Cauldron cake, eyes flicking between Betty and Cormac with an amused smile.
Cormac, however, didn't pay them attention. "It's complex, sure, but once you understand, it makes sense. Not everyone's into that sort of thing though."
"Huh," Betty mumbled, offering only a brief look.
Cormac didn't notice. "I could show you my list at Hogwarts. I've even got Salazar Slytherin—pretty rare. I've got a spare, but—"
"Do you trade rare cards as well," Betty deadpans, "or only duplicates?"
He blinked in surprise. "Depends," he replies, scratching his temple, "but with you, I'd trade fair."
She nodded once. "Good."
She reopened her book and let her gaze drift to the last paragraph where she had left off. For her, the conversation was over.
Meanwhile, Lee leaned back in his chair and watched the exchange. After a moment, he tilted his head and leaned towards her.
"So, Betty," he said finally, "you think Agrippa would've approved of these cards being owned instead of studied?"
Betty raised her head thoughtfully, then a faint smile appeared on her lips. "Probably not. He'd say it trivialises the work."
Cormac blinked, caught off guard. He opened his mouth, hesitated, muttered, "Well... I suppose in a sense—"
Fred snorted. "Betty Brains strikes again," he murmured to George who laughed out loud, along with Lee.
Betty said nothing, but this time she didn't bother to hide her smile.
Cormac ran a hand through his hair, muttering, "Seriously, who asks that?" but the faint flush on his cheeks betrayed his insecurity.
Then, finally, he let go of her, leaned against the window, and glared at the passing landscape as they jolted further north.
Occasionally, students popped their heads into the compartment to exchange a few words with the twins and Lee. However, Betty remained seated with her eyes fixed on the page in front of her, though it was difficult to stay focused. It was a recipe for a Calming Draught, and she traced her mother's neat, precise handwriting—Lucinda always adjusted the ingredients to enhance the desired effect. When a dark-haired girl suddenly knocked on the compartment door and began chatting loudly, Betty wished she had one of those potions to hand.
Outside, the sky cleared as they drove north, and the blue sky slowly took on an orange tint, eventually turning into a deep blue. As the train slowed, it gave a gentle jolt and the tension among the students became noticeable. Voices rose and more children pressed against the corridor windows, trying to catch a look of their new home. An uncomfortable mixture of curiosity, excitement, and nervousness from the other students pressed against her. She took a deep breath, focusing solely on herself, before she rose from her seat.
"We're here!" Fred called out and jumped to his feet. George followed suit and grinned at Betty.
"So, ready for the big adventure?"
Betty nodded, even though she felt anything but ready. The excitement grew with every minute. Her hands gripped the handle of her suitcase more firmly as she stood up.
"No need to take it. Just leave it here, they'll put them in front of your bed."
Not wanting to leave her belongings behind she followed them hesitantly.
As soon as Betty climbed out of the train and joined the others on the crowded platform, she heard a deep voice echoed across the platform.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over 'ere!"
Betty looked up and spotted a huge man with a wild beard that fluttered slightly in the breeze, a huge lantern holding in his massive hands. Despite his huge figure, his face radiated warmth, and despite his impressive size, there was something oddly comforting about him.
"That must be Hagrid," she murmured to herself.
Hagrid waved them forward. "C'mon, ye'll be crossin' the lake with me! Four ter a boat, mind yer!"
Betty waved goodbye to the twins and followed the moving first years.
The air was clear, but quite cold; the wind blowing across the lake made Betty pull her cloak tighter around her. The sky above them had turned into a deep black, scattered with sparkling stars. Along the edge of the black lake, several small boats bobbed quietly on the surface.
One by one, a girl climbed in first, then Betty, followed by two boys.
"No rowers?" asked one of them, surprised.
"Looks like their steer themselves," Betty replied, her gaze drifting over the dark water.
She seated herself next to the girl, who was looking excitedly over the heads of the others, her light brown ponytail swinging with every movement.
Her breath caught as the castle finally came into view, rising from the rocky outcrop, massive and luminous against the dark sky. Its spires stretched skywards, windows flickering with warm light like countless scattered lanterns. For a moment, everything felt suspended, as if time itself had paused to allow her to take in the sight, and she wondered if she was dreaming it all. Only the wind blowing through her hair and whipping strands into her face, along with a gentle breeze, reminded her that this was truly happening.
"Quite impressive, isn't it?" the girl beside her whispered excitedly, looking at it with curious eyes.
Betty nodded, lips twitching into a faint smile. "Yes. Kind of... surreal."
The girl leaned forward, eyes wide with excitement. "I've heard about Hogwarts a thousand times by my dad but seeing it... it's something else entirely."
Betty watched the castle grow larger with each stroke. "It's bigger than I imagined," she said, voice quiet but steady.
The girl grinned at her. "I'm Katie Bell, by the way. Who are you?"
"I'm Betty... Black," she replied, surprised at how naturally Katie had started the conversation.
"Black?" Katie's eyebrows lifted slightly. "Like the Black family?"
A brief flutter struck Betty's stomach. She had expected curiosity, maybe suspicion.
"Something like that," Betty said cautiously.
Katie shrugged. "Well, as long as you're not one of those pureblood snobs, I think we'll get on just fine."
Betty shook her head once. "I'm not."
Katie beamed at her happily.
As the boat cut silently through the black water, Katie spoke almost without pausing. Betty listened, fingers tracing a loose fibre at the boat's edge. Katie told her about her five younger sisters, two of them newborn twins, and the difficulty of leaving them behind. Her eyes sparkled whenever she mentioned them, but Betty sensed a hint of homesickness in the other girl's words.
Katie shifted closer. "Are you a Quidditch fan? Do you have a favourite team?"
"Not really. No favourite team. I did watch the Scotland versus England quarter final." Betty shrugged. "I imagine flying myself would be more fun than watching anyone else do it."
Katie's hands clapped together, eyes sparkling. "That's brilliant! Shame England lost, though." She leaned slightly closer, frowning, and she studied Betty with sudden intensity as if Betty had said something odd. "Wait. Have you... never flown before?"
Betty twisted a loose strand of hair around her finger, biting her lip. "A little. My cousin—she enjoys flying—and I've been on her broom a few times. Went well enough, I suppose. But my mum never allowed to go high or far, not where Muggles could spot us."
Katie nodded slowly, eyes still bright with curiosity. "Makes sense. There aren't many Muggles around there, so I can get away with it. But I can't wait for lessons. Maybe try out for the house team in second year."
She tilted her head. "So ... how was it back then? The quarter final, I mean."
Betty's face softened into a faint smile. "Lovely. Norway itself is breathtaking—the wind, the cool air, magical lights flickering over the stadium. And the displays... so many, all spectacular. The match was thrilling, very long and a bit dragging, though."
Katie's mouth opened in fascination. "That's brilliant. How did you even get tickets? They must be impossible to get."
Betty lowered her gaze, blushing. "Mum works for the Department of International Magical Cooperation. She went with the English team and brought me along."
Katie stared for a moment, her mouth falling open, before grinning widely. "You're joking. That's... just brilliant!"
She leaned closer, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Is it true the '94 final will be here, in Britain?"
Betty glanced briefly at the boys next to them; both, however, were absorbed in their own conversation, not paying any attention to the girls. She gave a quick nod.
"That's brilliant," Katie whispered, her voice dropping lower. "I hope we can go as a family. Dad's a huge Quidditch fan too, though he cheers for a different team. We get into arguments a lot when theirs plays ours."
Betty watched the girl more closely, noticing the vibrant energy in her movements and the sparkle in her eyes when she talked about her family and Quidditch. So different from the boys, who tended to annoy her with the same topic.
And somehow it was strangely reassuring and a little contagious.
The calmness was suddenly broken by loud yelling in the boat in front of them, causing them to lift their heads.
"Give it to me! You said you didn't want it anymore!"
"I had it first!"
Two boys fought over something neither of them would let go, each gripping to it stubbornly; Cormac, one of the quarrellers and significantly taller than the other, moved with powerful precision, his jaw clenched and his eyes flashing with anger. He had both hands wrapped around the object between them and refused to loosen his grip. Opposite him, the smaller boy clung to it just as stubbornly, his shoulders tense. Neither of them seemed willing to give an inch.
"Let go! That's mine!"
"You dropped it, so it's mine now!"
"No, it's—!"
A sudden tug sent the smaller boy off balance, his arms flailing as he tried desperately to stay upright, before he stumbled forward, falling into the dark water with a loud splash.
Other students in the surrounding boats, who had witnessed the incident, screamed. Hagrid, at the very front of the boats but clearly too far away to have noticed, turned around. His eyes scanned the crowd of children, some of whom had jumped up to see what was happening, causing their boats to wobble unsteadily.
"Oi, wha' was tha'? Calm yerself, or one o' yeh'll be takin' a swim!"
The boy flailed his arms helplessly to keep his head above water, but he kept disappearing beneath the surface more often. His drained clothes must have been weighing him down, pulling him further under. Betty was struck by the growing panic coming from him, and she realised with horror that he didn't seem to be able to swim. And Hagrid clearly didn't seem to realise what was going on there; he was too far away.
Katie, who had also noticed, leaned over the edge and called urgently to Hagrid.
"He can't swim! Hagrid!" She waved wildly toward the larger boat. "Hagrid! Over here!"
Her scream, however, would have been drowned out by the cries of the others if it wasn't carried away by the wind. And yet, no one moved, the other children seemed stuck in place, all eyes were fixed on the boy, whose strength was increasingly weakening.
Hagrid had his boat stir towards them, but far too slowly to reach the boy in time.
"A boy! He's drowning!" Katie yelled, louder this time, still waving towards Hagrid.
Betty herself stared wide-eyed, her thoughts racing. Someone had to do something; they couldn't just let the boy drown. But she herself remained frozen, shock tightening her throat. Someone had to do something; someone had to pull him out of the water. But who, if not—herself.
As if awakening from a trance, she forced herself to act, slipping off her cloak and tossed it into Katie's lap, which the other girl caught instinctively. Katie moved aside, looking at Betty questioningly.
"What are you—"
But Betty didn't hear the words anymore; she was already headfirst in the lake. The cold water hit her face with full force, her body flinched at the shock of the sudden cold, and a wave of panic was about to overwhelm her.
Water is your element, she reminded herself. Water... is your friend.
As she glided through the water, feeling the familiar weightlessness around her, her pulse began to slow down and with long, practised strokes she moved through the water.
Muffled screams reached her from the surface, but she barely took any notice.
She quickly reached the boy, whose head was fully submerged, just in time. She slipped her arms tightly under his chest from behind, steadying him as she let the current around them ease its pull, subsiding despite the drag of their waterlogged clothes. His body jerked weakly in surprise, yet Betty held him steady and let the water bear them upward until they broke the surface.
With deliberate strokes, she guided them both towards the boat.
"Pull him up!" she gasped, grabbing the edge of the boat.
Two children rushed to the edge, reached for the soaked boy and pulled him on board. He fell onto the planks, coughing and gasping for air, while Cormac just stood there watching, frozen in place, his mouth and eyes wide open.
Betty let go, took a deep breath and swam back to her own boat with a few strokes, where Katie and one of the boys leaned forward, holding out their hands. She reached out and let them both pull her up into the boat.
Trembling, she collapsed onto the bench, her heart now pounding so hard she could hear it echoing in her ears.
"You alright?" Katie asked breathlessly, eyes fixed on her. "Merlin, Betty, that was brilliant!"
Betty, however, only nodded.
As she sat there, pulled down by her soaking clothes, water dripping from her hair, she realised what had just happened. The fact that three pairs of eyes were staring at her with their mouths open didn't make it any better.
Her pulse refused to slow, a cold shiver ran through her limbs, and a faint tremor lingered in her fingers. Relief spread through her, but it was overshadowed by the weight of the shock.
Finally, Hagrid's boat reached them, and the light from the lantern gleamed across the dark waves.
"What's goin' on 'ere?" His rough voice carried over the water.
"One of them fell in," Katie called back. "Betty pulled him out."
Hagrid let his gaze wander over the children, then settled on Betty, whom Katie had pointed out. He gave a slow nod.
"Tha' was brave, tha' was. Real brave."
Betty dropped her head, the praise sliding off her. Her thoughts were still focused on the shock when no one else had moved.
By the time they reached the shore, Hagrid was already helping the children one by one out of the boats. Betty's teeth chattered, her hands began feeling numb, and her uniform clung in heavy, dragging her down with each step.
Hagrid reached for his cloak, clearly torn between her and the boy still shivering beside her. Betty shook her head quickly, insisting he give it to the boy instead.
With her hands buried deep in the pockets of her cloak, now slowly soaking through from the wet clothes underneath, she curled her right hand tightly around her wand. As she followed the others, she tried to recall the Drying Charm, but her mind felt blank.
For a fleeting moment, she considered drawing the water from her clothes with a simple movement of her hand. The thought of attracting even more attention among the other children prevented her from doing so.
So, she stood there, shivering, stamping her feet against the ground in a futile attempt to shake the water from her shoes.
Lantern in one hand, an umbrella in the other, Hagrid moved ahead, calling for them to follow. The children hurried along the stone embankment and began climbing a wide set of steps. At last, they reached the enormous doors of the castle. They swung open with a slow, deep groan to reveal a tall witch in an emerald cloak standing in the torchlight.
Her face was stern, lips pressed tight, but there was no cruelty in her expression. Behind her squared glasses, her eyes scanned the group sharply, as if judging not only who they were, but also what they might become.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid called out.
He took a step closer to her, bending down slightly and whispered something to her, then pointed to Betty and the boy, who seemed to be swallowed up by Hagrid's cloak.
The professor listened, then nodded briefly and glanced at the dripping children in the crowd. Her gaze lingered a moment longer on Betty, who instinctively lowered her head.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I shall take it from here."
The entrance hall stretched out before them, large and echoing with every of their footsteps, torches casting flickering shadows across the stone. Somewhere nearby, muffled voices could be heard calling out to them. Although a wide staircase led upwards, Professor McGonagall directed them instead to a smaller side chamber.
The room was narrow and soon completely packed, far too small for the number of children who were pressing in, and the air was thickened quickly with a mix of excitement and unease.
Betty's breathing shallowed and her fingertips began prickling. And yet, the cold still crept stubbornly through her bones.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward with her chin lifted and her posture radiating authority. One glance from her seemed to have everyone stand straighter, and most of them did.
Betty studied her closely. There was something familiar about her—she had very similar presence as her mother. Strict, yes, but never insincere. Sincere and dependable. She seemed to be a woman whose trust had to be earned, but never cheaply. Betty felt a spark of admiration. She liked her right away, perhaps precisely because of her sternness. And the desire not to disappoint this woman spread through her.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said in a measured voice. "I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. The opening feast will begin shortly, but before you may take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into one of four houses."
She let her gaze wander over the children. "Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. Each has its own values, its history, and its expectations. Yet every student here belongs equally to the school."
Her gaze scanned the room again, pausing briefly as if she was remembering her own first night there. For an instant, something softened her face, before it returned to its stern composure.
"Your house will be your home—your community, and your responsibility. By achieving good results, you earn points for your house. The current score can be checked on the House Point Hourglasses in the Entrance Hall. Breaking rules, however, will result in point deductions. At the end of the year, the house with the most points will be awarded the House Cup—a great honour."
Betty's heart skipped a beat. She had heard of this cup before; her mother had once aspired to win it at Slytherin and considered winning it and collecting house points a matter of pride.
"The ceremony will begin shortly," Professor McGonagall continued. "I suggest you prepare yourselves and remember this—each of you carries something unique, something no one else has. Perhaps you will discover it this very evening."
A murmur spread through the room.
Katie moved closer. "Well then, time to find our new family," she whispered, beaming.
Betty flinched slightly; lost in thought, she had almost forgotten about the girl's existence.
"Straighten your cloaks, walk properly—you will soon be led into the Great Hall," came from the professor, leading the way.
Betty swallowed hard. Her clothes were still wet and clinging to her, and water dripped from her sleeves. Her woollen jumper was slowly starting to smell musty. With each step she took, dark marks appeared on the stone floor. However, she tried not to show her discomfort, straightened up, and followed the others with her chin raised.
The crowd crossed the Entrance Hall, and Betty let her gaze wander over the hourglasses hanging over the huge door; one for each house, but still empty.
The professor opened the large door with a flick of her wand, and a hush fell as they passed the threshold. The Great Hall stretched out before them; four long tables, one for each house, ran the entire length, and hundreds of floating candles hovered above them, casting flickering shadows on the faces of the other students who were already waiting for the first-years. Some had turned to watch the newcomers, some whispered, some scrutinised them, while others simply looked bored.
Above, an enchanted ceiling reflected the sky outside—heavy clouds drifted slowly by, stars twinkled. Around her, children whispered and pointed at it; their eyes wide, lips parted in awe.
Katie murmured. "Isn't it brilliant?"
Betty, amazed herself, just nodded.
The first years moved in a narrow line between the two tables int the middle, the professor at the front. Betty noticed that she could easily see over most of the smaller students. Her height set her apart from the others, as did Katie, Cormac and a blond boy with glasses. She cursed inwardly, because this, combined with her wet shoes, which splashed quietly with every step, made her feel the curious glances watching her from all sides. Each turned head made her shiver slightly—not only because of the cold creeping into her limbs, but also because of the sudden awareness of being observed. A boy pointed at her, nudged another one sitting next to him, and then they both giggled. Betty lifted her chin slightly and stared straight ahead, trying not to look at the crowd.
The group approached the end of the hall, where a chair stood in front of the High Table, topped by an old, patched hat. This was the Sorting Hat, which would soon sort the students into their houses. The students came to a halt.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement at the table to her left. She turned her head slightly, her gaze flickering over the Hufflepuff table, where Tonks waved at her. When their eyes met, her mouth formed a silent, exaggerated "What happened?!"
Betty simply shrugged slightly in return.
At the Gryffindor table, the Weasleys were easy to spot. George lifted a hand, giving her a brief wave. Betty returned the greeting with a slight nod, her attention already elsewhere. She recognised Charlie Weasley, who was sitting at the back, curiously examining the new arrivals. A few seats away sat Percy Weasley, the candlelight reflected in his glasses, watching her and the boy dragging Hagrid's cloak behind him with a mixture of curiosity and scepticism. She returned his gaze for a moment, then turned away.
Her gaze wandered to the High Table where the professors were seated. At the far end sat Professor Snape in his black cloak, almost blending into the shadows cast by the candlelight. His face remained expressionless—just the way she was familiar with—while he surveyed the new first-years. When they reached Betty, they lingered. His expression gave nothing away, but she knew him well enough to sense the weight of his judgment.
A particularly small man with white hair sat a little further in the middle, his sparkling eyes darting from student to student. Despite his small stature, he radiated a presence filled with energy and warmth that made Betty's mouth twitch into a faint smile.
At the other end of the table, a little witch with short, grey hair and a patched, battered hat—probably Professor Sprout, the head of the house Hufflepuff, of who Tonks had told her about. She spoke quietly with a man in a deep blue robe. His robes were neat, cut in an old fashioned, slightly theatrical style, mirroring the way he moved his hands while speaking.
Albus Dumbledore sat in the middle, his bright blue eyes warm and attentive as he surveyed the newly arrived students. When he stood up and spread his arms, his long cloak—almost the same colour as his eyes—shimmered in the candlelight, and his smile radiated a calmness that silenced the group.
Betty remembered meeting him the previous summer at Zuberi's, after he had visited the Kenyan Ministry of Magic for official matters, and spent the rest of the day with them. Even then, he had paid her a surprising amount of attention, showing a friendly, almost inquiring interest in her abilities and watching her train all afternoon.
"Welcome, my dear new students! And to the older students, welcome to another year at Hogwarts!"
His voice carried clearly through the hall, and a hush fell over the crowd.
"Before we turn our attention to the upcoming feast—which I assure you will be most enjoyable—there are a few important matters to discuss. Hogwarts is not merely a school; it is a place of learning, of community, and of magic. But with magic comes responsibility."
He raised a hand, and for a moment his expression became more serious.
"Entering the Forbidden Forest—and the name alone should serve as warning—is strictly forbidden. It is home to creatures that could make even the bravest wizard think twice."
A murmur rippled through the first years. Betty noticed the occasional glances towards the tall windows. Beyond them, darkness lingered uninvitingly, as if the forest itself were watching them.
"Likewise, it is forbidden to cast spells in the corridors between lessons or after bedtime unless it is for a very important reason—and authorised by us. Be assured such exceptions are exceedingly rare."
His eyes swept over the students before his tone lightened. "Of course, there are many other rules which our esteemed caretaker, Argus Filch, would be delighted to share with you—likely in a lengthy speech." Muffled laughter went around the older students. "But I will not keep you in suspense any longer. Before we eat, there is one final task to complete—sorting you into your houses."
He gestured theatrically to the Sorting Hat in front of him.
"Our good old friend here will assist you. So, lean back, open your ears—and prepare for the next chapter of your lives."
No sooner had Dumbledore finished than the Sorting Hat stirred. Its seams, shaped like a mouth, parted, and in a deep, melodic voice it began to sing. Betty caught the tune, the swell of its melody brushing over her, but the words slipped her mind, meaningless in the mix of sound and sensation. Her heart pounded so loudly that she could hear it echo in her ears, and her thoughts swirled with all the new impressions.
A sharp voice cut through the haze. Professor McGonagall. Betty realised, rather late, that the hat had become silent again and the Sorting Ceremony had begun.
The deputy headmistress stepped forward, unrolled a parchment scroll, and with a clear voice clear, precise as she announced the first name.
"Ashford, Mira!"
A small girl with long, dark hair and dark skin moved gracefully to the chair. The professor took a step towards the girl, placing the hat on her head. The hat remained twitching and jerking before the seam parted and loudly exclaimed, "Gryffindor!"
Mira's smile lit up her face in relief as she jumped down and joined the cheering Gryffindors, her tie instantly shifting to the scarlet and gold of her new house.
"Belby, Marcus!"
A pale blond boy with a slightly nervous frown stepped forward and settled onto the chair. The Sorting Hat was slid over his head, murmuring briefly before announcing, "Ravenclaw!"
Loud cheers erupted from the Ravenclaw table as he hurried to join his new housemates, his tie transforming to match the colours.
"Bell, Katherine!"
Katie jumped forward almost on instinct, sliding onto the stool, and the hat hesitated only for a moment before calling out again, "Gryffindor!"
The Gryffindor table erupted, cheers echoing across the hall as she ran towards the table, placing herself next to Mira.
"Black, Elizabeth!"
Betty stepped forward, her cloak still heavy and dripping with water. The students' eyes darted over her, full of curiosity and suspicion. She ignored them, breathed in slowly and evenly, straightened her shoulders and sat down on the chair.
The Sorting Hat was slid over her head, and almost instantly a clear voice appeared in her mind. And although she was prepared, she flinched slightly.
"Hmmm... very intriguing. A clever mind—quick, sharp, analytical... you see more than most, understand more than you show. Ravenclaw would suit you. A place for wisdom, for learning..."
Betty's heart raced. Ravenclaw sounded rewarding. But a stirring deep inside her made her hesitate.
"But there's more. You don't merely understand, you plan. You watch, consider, move carefully. And you have a gift—subtle, the ability to guide others, to influence without them realising. Slytherin could nurture that skill, help you gain power, gain influence, mask your strengths... yes, you could achieve much there..."
She shook her head slightly. Power for its own sake? That was not her. Then again, it used to be the house of her mother. And her aunt. Before she could think about the words, he continued.
"Oh? Certain? Perhaps Hufflepuff then. Loyalty, duty, deep caring for others... a safe home, a place where you belong. Yet... you do not crave only comfort, do you?"
Betty's eyes flicked almost involuntarily toward the Hufflepuff table. Tonks sat there, beaming at Betty with warm eyes. Julian and Frankie were sitting next to her, smiling widely, and the sight made Betty's chest tighten slightly.
The Hat seemed to chuckle softly; a quiet sound appeared in her mind.
"Ah... yes. There is more... Strength, courage. You are brave, even if you hide it. Courage for yourself, for others. A fire waiting to break free... passion, determination. You could belong there."
Her eyes moved slightly to the Gryffindor table. Fred and George watched her with sly grins, while Lee and Katie followed every move. She could feel the energy of the Gryffindor table drawing at her, full of laughter, warmth, and reckless enthusiasm. The thought made her chest tighten with longing; she wanted to be among them. But at the same time, she was overcome with doubt. Would she match that fire? Could she keep up without losing herself in their chaos? The pull was strong, but frightening, and a flicker of panic stirred within her.
The Sorting Hat murmured again, patiently.
"You would do well in Gryffindor, but you are more than a single house. Clever enough for Ravenclaw, thoughtful enough for Slytherin, loyal enough for Hufflepuff. You carry all of it, and yet only one can be your home tonight. I see the fire within you, the courage, the loyalty, the mind that watches and plans. You are ready... almost."
Betty couldn't answer nor respond. She remembered what Tonks had said—that the hat had never sent anyone home—and her mother's words: 'It has sorted children for thousands of years.'
Logically, she knew she would be fine. Yet this did little to stop the pounding in her chest and the fear that the hat might not be able to match her to a house at all.
The world around her blurred. The glances of her new friends and strangers merged into one. Somewhere in that blur, she sensed the hat moving. Yet the final decision—where she truly belonged—remained just out of her reach.
For a moment, panic flared up again. What if she was wrong? What if the hat couldn't choose at all?