The Sorting
The first time she entered the Great Hall, her first thought was: Wowsers.
Her second thought was that it looked like the inside of a church.
The hall was massive. The walls were perfectly polished stone, completely unblemished and lit orange by the glow of a hundred floating candles. Candles that came in a million colours - red, black, white, yellow, brown. They glittered like stars above her head - and it was an even more fitting image because of the dead black night sky. Completely cloudless, with a thin crescent moon just to the left of the queue of students.
Did the roof just open up to the sky? That didn’t make sense, there was a whole castle-
“It’s enchanted.”
She glanced to the side.
A girl was standing next to her. Her foot was tapping rapidly against the stone, and her spectacle-covered eyes were sharp and focused.
“What?”
The girl glanced at her - and flicked aside her midnight-black hair.
“The ceiling. You were wondering if it just opened up, right? It’s just enchanted to look like that. Rowena Ravenclaw herself did it.”
Max blinked.
“How do you know that?”
“It was in Hogwarts: A History. A dreadfully dull book overall, but that was one of the interesting tidbits.” The girl, suddenly, offered her hand. “Brooke Scott.”
Max stared at the hand for a moment, before she took her - Brooke’s - hand as gingerly as she could. It was so thin and spindly, it seemed like a stiff breeze would take it right off.
“Max Caulfield. It’s nice to meet you,” she said - mostly on mechanical reflex. Her parents had taught her some basic manners when she was really young, and had done their best to make sure the lessons stuck.
“Mm. I do believe that girl is waving at you, Max Caulfield.”
Max glanced over Brooke’s shoulder, and grinned.
Chloe was giving her an incredibly energetic wave with her trademark wide, cocky grin.
She waved back just as enthusiastically.
“You know her?”
Max glanced back at Brooke - who was giving her a look that seemed genuinely interested for the first time.
“Oh yeah - she’s my best friend! We grew up in the same town.”
Brooke blinked. “...I wasn’t aware the odds of such a thing were so good. Are you both muggleborn?”
“Uh - no, Chloe’s dad was a wizard. I’m a muggleborn, though.”
Brooke stared right through her. After a long, long moment, Max fidgeted. “...What?”
“What house are you expecting to get into?” Brooke asked, instead of answering.
Max blinked. “Uh - Gryffindor.”
Brooke nodded.
“Students!”
Max startled and whipped around towards the source of the shout; the Assistant Headmistress. Ms. Hoida, she’d said her name was, professor of transfiguration.
“Black looks good on you.”
She barely had time to register Brooke’s voice before Hoida was moving swiftly along. “When I call your name,” Hoida said, “you will come to the front, I will put the Sorting Hat on your head and it will sort you.”
Max blinked. “...That’s it? We just have to put on a hat?”
She glanced at Brooke, who was peering at the hat with a dark glitter in her eye.
“I wonder how it works…” she muttered under her breath.
“Anderson, Alyssa!”
A girl with dark brown hair shuffled to the front, eyes firmly at her own feet. A good idea, Max thought - made sure she didn’t trip.
Max tuned out much of what happened next. She heard the Hat shout out a few houses - ‘Gryffindor,’ for the brunette girl after a very long pause, and a few Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors.
She glanced at Brooke.
“What about you?” she muttered under her breath.
Brooke glanced at her. “Hm?”
“What house are you expecting to go in?”
Brooke paused.
Pursed her lips as she appeared to consider the matter, before making a sharp nod full of finality. “...Ravenclaw. I’m most likely going to go into Ravenclaw.”
Max nodded - and smiled at her.
“Wanna study together? I’m having trouble with potions.”
Brooke opened her mouth to answer - but, before she could, Hoida’s voice sliced through the air.
“Caulfield, Maxine!”
She nearly tripped over herself in her rush to the front.
Hoida gave her an encouraging smile as she got to the front, and hopped onto the stool.
The last thing she saw before the Hat fell over her head, was Brooke - who mouthed a very exaggerated,
‘Yes.’
She smiled.
And the Hat settled on her head.
Hm.
She startled.
The Hat’s voice - well, ‘voice’ - was oddly quiet in her head. She had expected it to have the booming, sonorous tone that it’d had when it sung. Instead, it’s voice was quiet and soft, hardly even a whisper.
She felt the eyes of the entire Great Hall upon her, even through the brim of the Hat - which had flopped over her eyes.
Maxine Ca-
Max.
Hm?
She fidgeted a little on the stool - but didn’t relent.
It’s Max.
...Max, then.There was a slight lilt of amusement in the Hat’s tone. Well, you’re an easy one, ‘Max.’
She felt the Hat move atop her head - and her thought barely stopped it from shouting out whatever it was going to say.
What? I’m easy?
Mm? Oh, yes, dreadfully so. A born Slytherin I’d say.
She felt it move again - but she jumped, and practically shouted at it. What?! I’m not a Slytherin!
A beat.
And the Hat laughed.
NOT a Slytherin? My dear, how blind can you be? And that’s coming from a hat! I’ve never seen a thing in my life!
How am I a Slytherin? She asked. It was odd, having a conversation in her own head - but much easier than having one outside of it.
Well, you don’t care at all about anyone outside of those selected few you deem ‘friends,’ you have no sense of the bigger picture, you’re sly and nearly shockingly stubborn - and your ambition would make Salazar himself proud! Such strong desires, Ms. Caulfield - even such mundane muggle ones. Saving up some money, getting into college - really, you wanted to get a job by sixteen? You’ve no clue what it means to be a child, clearly. Supporting your family, furthering your passions - art, hm? A noble enough pursuit, I suppose. Getting famous, too - oh, fame, that most horrid of desires. Even at such a young age, you were destined for greatness! Why, my young pirate, you’ve been a Slytherin all your life. The only thing that ever could’ve stopped you from getting where you wanted to go was that friend of yours dragging you down. No, putting you anywhere else would be a betrayal to his house. So, as I was saying-
It shifted atop her head again, and, again, she stopped it.
People were starting to murmur now. Mainly because of all the false starts - she could tell that her interruptions were starting to frustrate the Hat.
Please! Can’t you put me in Gryffindor? I really want to be in Gryffindor.
...Gryffindor?
The Hat’s tone was so utterly bland that she had no idea what it thought of the idea.
...Uh...yeah?
...Well, this ought to be good. Please, Ms. Caulfield, elucidate me. Why on earth should I put you in Gryffindor?
A beat.
I really, really want to go there?
Try again.
The Hat was starting to sound honestly amused at this point - which was more than a little frustrating.
I - uhm - I’m a good person?
Are you now?
...Woah. If that wasn’t the worst question she’d ever been asked, she didn’t know what was.
I think so?
Well, even if you are - that’s more a reason to put you in Hufflepuff than anything, dear.
Okay, then put me in Hufflepuff! Anything but Slytherin - please?
You know, Ch-
The Hat’s voice stopped very suddenly - at the same moment that she heard a chair scrape across the floor of the Great Hall, and every murmuring voice stop.
“Ms. Price!” she heard - the voice sounded like the headmaster.
“Put Max in Gryffindor.”
She startled.
Chloe?
“Ms. Price, please lower your wand and-”
“Put. Max. In. Gryffindor.”
Max couldn’t help the absolutely gobsmacked expression that crossed her face - luckily, nobody could see it under the hat.
“...GRYFFINDOR!”
And Max could hear a distinct note of amusement in the Hat’s voice.
Gryffindor started that year at negative fifty points, and Chloe got two weeks detention.
Everyone in Gryffindor hated her for it.
Well, everyone except Max.