Professor McGonagall walked regally down the central isle with a trail of first years following behind her looking around them in wide eyed amazement at the cavernous room. One of them spotted the ceiling, so alike the sky outside that it is possible to believe that the hall was left open to the sky; soon all of them were staring upwards at the magnificent ceiling momentarily distracted from the upcoming sorting.

When they reached the front of the hall they stood in line in front of the teachers table, facing out to all the other students and waited nervously while the Professor placed a stool in front of them. On top of the stool she put the battered hat that, only a couple of months earlier had placed her in Ravenclaw. In the brighter light it seemed even more battered and frayed, though the students looked upon it with a kind of reverence.

For one long moment the whole hall was silent, all its occupants both Professors and Students fixated on the hat; waiting for something to happen. Slowly the hat started to twitch, shaking like you would to rouse yourself after a long sleep, then a rip near the brim opened wide in a yawning motion before the most surprising thing of all happened – It burst into song.

In times of old when I was new
and Hogwarts barely started
the founders of our noble school
thought never to be parted:
united by a common goal,
they had the selfsame yearning,
to make the world's best magic school
and pass along their learning.
"Together we will build and teach!"
the four good friends decided
and never did they dream that they
might someday be divided,
for were there such friends anywhere
as Slytherin and Gryffindor?
Unless it was the second pair
of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?
So how could it have gone so wrong?
How could such friendships fail?
Why, I was there and so can tell
the whole sad sorry tale.

Buffy took a look around at her peer’s reaction to the performance. Out of all the seated occupants of the hall, she was the only one to be surprised by the hat’s antics. Obviously this was the normal way for the start of school to commence. She turned her attention back to the singing hat realising that the words of the song were important.

Said Slytherin, "We'll teach just those
whose ancestry is purest."
Said Ravenclaw, "We'll teach those whose
intelligence is surest."
Said Gryffindor, "We'll teach all those
with brave deeds to their name."
Said Hufflepuff, "I'll teach the lot,
and treat them just the same."

These differences caused little strife
when first they came to light,
for each of the four founders had
a House in which they might
take only those they wanted, so,
for instance, Slytherin
took only pure-blood wizards
of great cunning, just like him,
and only those of sharpest mind
were taught by Ravenclaw,
while the bravest and the boldest
went to daring Gryffindor.
Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,
and taught them all she knew,
thus the Houses and their founders
retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony
for several happy years,
but then discord crept among us
feeding on our faults and fears.
The Houses that, like pillars four,
had once held up our school,
now turned upon each other and,
divided, sought to rule.
And for a while it seemed the school
must meet an early end,
what with dueling and with fighting
and the clash of friend on friend.
And at last there came a morning
when old Slytherin departed
and though the fighting then died out
he left us quite downhearted.
And never since the founders four
were whittled down to three
have the Houses been united
as they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here
and you all know the score:
I sort you into Houses
because that is what I'm for,
but this year I'll go further,
listen closely to my song:
though condemned I am to split you
still I worry that it's wrong,
though I must fulfil my duty
and must quarter every year
still I wonder whether sorting
may not bring the end I fear.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
the warning history shows,
for our Hogwarts is in danger
from external, deadly foes
and we must unite inside her
or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you...
let the Sorting now begin.

When the hat finally quieted, applause broke out amongst the students along with frantic muttering. Though the hat singing had not been a surprise to them, the nature of the song had been strange to say the least. The warning that was evident in the song rippled through the hall adding more fodder to the rumour mill already discussing Voldemort’s supposed return.

Casting a stern glance around the hall, the Deputy Headmistress silenced the chattering students, before looking down at a long parchment in her hand and read out a name “Abercrombie, Euan”

A small boy stumbled out of his position in line and warily picked up the battered hat. Slumping down onto the stool, he took one last terrified look at the hall and placed the hat on his head, it’s brim tilting forwards to hide his eyes from view. A moment later the tear in the hat’s brim opened and it shouted “Gryffindor!” into the silent hall.

The table on the far side of the hall burst into applause and the shaking boy made his way nervously across the hall to take a seat at the table. The next child got placed in “Slytherin” and so it continued, Buffy clapping good heartedly when one of the new students were placed in “Ravenclaw”.  The numbers of first years looking around worriedly were slowly diminished to a mere dozen that huddled together to try to escape the individual scrutiny of the other pupils. Finally, there was only one girl remaining. Buffy recognised “Zeller, Rose” as the girl she had been seated next to on the train and shot her a reassuring smile as the large hat engulfed her small head. Though it took the same time as the rest of the sortings, it seemed an age before she was finally put into “Hufflepuff”, the anticipation of the feast ahead growing amongst the students.

While Professor McGonagall retrieved the hat and stool and strode out of the hall with them; Dumbledore rose to his feet beaming down at the students filling the benches before him. “To our newcomers” Dumbledore’s booming voice filled the room, and he looked around at all the first years finally settling his gaze on Buffy “welcome! To our old hands – welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!”

 There was a resounding applause through the hall and when Buffy looked back to her table, she found that it was covered in plates of food that gave off such a beautiful aroma that it made her empty stomach rumble. Ignoring the fugitive glanced her way and Angela’s attempts at conversation, Buffy started piling food onto her plate.

Using her food as an excuse not to converse with her peers, she looked around the hall. It had never before been so noisy; filled with hundreds of students, a full compliment of Professors and more Ghosts than she had realised inhabited the castle. They shone misty silver where they floated above the students or seated at the tables. For some reason the whole place felt alien to her.

After being left more or less alone for months, wandering around the empty corridors, she was now forced into an environment where she was surrounded by bickering teens. Though she was of an age with the oldest of Hogwarts’ Students she felt that in the past three years of being a slayer and especially the past few months she had aged in a way that had nothing to do with calendar years. The girls chattering good naturedly about the boys they had crushes on, the new school year, jobs they hoped to get after leaving; seemed stranger and more distant from Buffy than the reserved British Professors had.

Realising that while she had been lost in thought, the girl seated next to her had been attempting to get her attention, she turned to look at the exasperated face of the Head Girl. She affected a hurt tone as she repeated the question “As I was saying… what year are you in?” She looked expectantly at Buffy, who tried to ignore the fact that all conversation around them had died down as the students waited for her to reply.

She thought for a moment about the easiest way to get the gossip mongers off her back. It’d be easier if they didn’t suddenly find out the next day that she was having lessons with 3^rd, 4^th and 5^th years, all of whom would be more than a year younger than her. If she just explained a simple version of the tale now at least she wouldn’t be thought of as a retard. She felt her anger once again rise at the thought of that boy. He’d better keep out of her way.

Turning to face the obnoxious girl, she relayed her story “Um… I’m not really in any year. I’m gonna be taking classes with a few of the year groups and take my OWLs at the end of the year. ” Before she could continue one of the girls across the table, who looked to be about sixteen, blurted out “But why?” When Buffy looked up at her she flushed bright red, but kept her gaze firmly and unapologetically on Buffy. Keeping her eyes on the girl as she replied, Buffy continued “I only found out I was a witch a couple of months ago when I accidentally performed some magic.” No-one within earshot was even attempting to keep up the illusion that they weren’t listening now, shocked by the idea of a girl that obviously belonged in a NEWT class not knowing about her powers. “The Bureau called me in and tried to charge me, but as I’d never known they let me off and told me I had to qualify from a School.” Deciding to leave out her reasons for moving, she merely concluded “I was moving to London so I was sent here.”

“But why didn’t you get a letter at the right age?” the girl across from her asked as more questions came in from every direction.

“When did you get sorted?”

“How’re you going to catch up all that work?”

Deciding to answer the girls, that she noticed was sporting a prefect’s badge, question first, at least she had vaguely been a part of the conversation; not merely interrupting “I found out at the trial that I did, but my Mom just took it as a joke, I guess, and ignored it. One of the witches said something about a new system where they visit muggles to make sure they don’t think it’s a big prank.”

The boy seated next to the Indian looking prefect opposite and also wearing a prefect’s badge piped up at that “That happened to me too!” Suddenly becoming the centre of attention seemed to shock the boy who stammered slightly as he continued “Uh, I got the letter and my parents just laughed it off. ‘Bout a week later McGonagall came round and gave a demonstration.” He paused for a second “Me Mum fainted when a grown woman changed into a cat right in out living room! I think they believed it after that. I’m here ain’t I?” The timing was perfect, and he grinned as his peers cracked up around him.

He leant across the table to introduce himself as chatter about parentage continued around them Buffy forgotten as, if not old, at least less mysterious news. “Anthony Goldstein. I’m a 5^th year so we’ll probably be in some classes together.” He indicated the girl next to him “This is Padma.” Buffy shook his hand and flashed a small smile at Padma “Buffy.”

Just as he was about to say something else, she saw Dumbledore get to his feet out of the corner of her eye and, almost instantaneously, the Hall went silent.

“Well now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices. First-years ought to know that the Forest in the grounds is out-of-bounds to students.” Buffy had to stifle a sigh. If they were keeping an eye out for wayward students it would make her explorations in the Forest harder than they had been previously. Buffy wasn’t sure but she thought Dumbledore’s eyes settled for a moment on her as he continued “and a few of our older students ought to know by now, too.”

Her brain started working as fast as she could run. If he knew she went out into the forest did that mean he knew that she was a slayer? This was a magic school after all; there could be a million ways to know where people were. If he knew why hasn’t he called her up on it?

Her concentration was forced back to the teacher’s table when Dumbledore’s speech was interrupted by the woman seated beside him clearing her throat and rising to her feet. She was almost toad-like in appearance – with a pale broad face, bulging eyes and no neck whatsoever. He looked at her for a moment, surprised by her obvious intention to make a speech, then quickly sat and looked up at her, the image of a rapt schoolboy waiting for her to speak. The rest of the professors seemed more thrown by the intrusion and many of the students were smirking at Dumbledore’s reaction to the woman.

“Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome” Her voice was high-pitched and, in contrast to her obvious age, sounded almost girlishly breathless. Not content with the attention being paid her, she cleared her throat again “hem, hem” and waited for silence before continuing “Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts…” Hearing the tone it was painfully obvious that she was going to be talking for a while and Buffy started to zone out.

It was a skill that all teenagers had, but Buffy had perfected it in her years working with Giles. Being able to drift off into her own thoughts, while the speech went on yet still able to summarise the important points and repeat the last sentence when challenged. As she stared ahead a flash of white-blonde hair caught the corner of her eye and she turned to see the boy from the carriage staring fixedly at her.

Hoping he’d be embarrassed by being caught, she made it obvious she knew he was watching. A mocking smile spread slowly over his features which, when they lost some of their puppy fat would be chiselled in an attractive manner. Put out Buffy shot a look his way that had sent more than one vampire ducking for cover amongst Sunnydale’s gravestones. Unfortunately it seemed that the look only had an effect on people that knew she was a force to be reckoned with and the boy merely raised a delicate eyebrow in amusement.

Infuriated by his arrogance, Buffy looked away and took up one of her favourite nightly pastimes, staring up at the stunning ceiling didn’t quite have the same resonance as laying on the damp grass in a graveyard to look at the stars, but here away from the light pollution that a city created there were far more stars in the sky to loose yourself in. She had loved stargazing since a child and could spot and name any of the major constellations.

She was bought out of her thoughts by the sounds from all around her as the students prepared to leave. Quickly gathering her things she joined the students clamouring to leave and was soon lost in the throng.