Chapter 7: Of Flying Cars and Sorting Hats

I couldn't remember how long I had been on the train, but I wanted nothing more than to get off. Lee ran off about an hour ago - I think, considering I don't have a watch - to meet up with some other friends of his and the twins. Fred and George tried to play it off as if they didn't want to leave me here, but I told them to go on, and they went off with him. They told me they'd come back soon, but frankly, I wouldn't be surprised if they got distracted and I didn't see them until we got to the station. Frodo had been awake a while, and was laying across my shoulders, chewing numerous holes into the end of my ribbon, but other than him, I was alone.

This is so boring, I thought, sitting in the compartment by myself. Even the thrill of going to Hogwarts wasn't enough to really sustain my energy, and most of the candy had run out ages ago; the only piece left was the last bit of Drooble's gum that I was chewing as I gazed out the window. I blew a tiny, blue bubble and bit the end, disconnecting it from the remaining gum in my mouth and letting it float around me in the compartment with seven other identical bubbles.

I suppose now's as good a time as ever to figure out what I'm gonna do about that diary, I thought to myself, and anything else I've missed so far. I sat up in my seat, pulling a leather-bound notebook and a black pen from under the blanket in Frodo's basket. Opening to a blank page, I thought hard about what else - besides the diary - that I had to worry about this year.

Let's see… I decided to make a list, to try and organize my thoughts.

YEAR TWO

Tom Riddle's diary (Ginny)

Chamber of Secrets

Basilisk

Gilderoy Lockhart - FRAUD

Dobby

"What am I missing?" I muttered, chewing on the top of the pen. That couldn't possibly be all there was in the book, could it? I thought hard for a moment about the films as well, and briefly remembered a scene involving Ron being yelled at by a letter in a bright red envelope.

Gasp! "The howler!" I exclaimed, startling Frodo and making him run to hide under the seats, "How could I forget about the howler?!" It had been one of my favorite moments in the series, watching Ron get chewed out by a letter in front of the entire Great Hall. Mrs. Weasley was so furious at them for going to school in-

"Look! A flying car!" I shouldn't have been able to hear the students in the other compartments, but the yell echoed down the hall just the same. I rushed outside my compartment to stand with a few other students, and stared out the window before us just in time to see a black-haired boy climb back into a powder blue car before it flew above the clouds once more.

"The Ford Anglia…" I muttered, thankfully remaining unheard amongst the chatter and cheers of the students around me. A little farther down the hall I could hear familiar voices, and turned to see the twins and Lee cheering vigorously for their brother's most recent choice of rule-breaking.

"That's our brother! That's our brother!" Fred and George cheered, shit-eating grins plastered across their faces as they high-fived many of the people around them. I rolled my eyes at them, but couldn't fight my own smile as I walked over to join them.

"You realize, of course, that they could get expelled for this, yes?" I ask them. They just laughed.

"C'mon, Rosie-Posie!" George said, throwing an arm around my shoulders.

"It's not everyday someone gets themselves into this kind of trouble before the school year even starts, y'know," Fred added as his arm slung around my waist. They steered me along with them back to our compartment, sitting me down between them - not an easy feat, either, given that there really was only room for two people per bench; I could barely move from where I was squished in the middle of the pair.

"So, did you miss us while we were gone?" George asked, twirling one of my pink curls around his finger.

"Was dear Miss Rosie-Posie all lonesome without ickle Gred and Forge?" I laughed as Fred batted his eyes at me and pushed him away, moving over to the open space while he sat himself across from me.

"Okay, is that my new nickname or something?" I asked, choosing to ignore the previous goofy conversation, "I mean, you've called me that about three or four times since my arrival."

"Well of course, it is!" I rolled my eyes, shoving my shoulder against George.

"But Rosie is already a nickname!" I whined. The twins stopped at looked over at me, matching fox-like grins on their faces. Oops.

"Reeaaally?" Fred drawled, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned forward.

"Whatever for?" George leered as well, shifting closer into my personal space. I didn't move, shifting my gaze between the two of them a few times suspiciously.

"I'm going to regret bringing that up, aren't I?" Neither answered. I sighed. "It's Rosaline."

"Rosaline?!"

"What kind of a name is that?!" I puffed out my reddening cheeks as they began laughing at me.

"It's not funny!" I shouted, though it seemed to only increase their laughter. I rubbed my temples. Yup, I'm definitely going to regret telling them that…

Hours passed, as could be seen from the darkening sky above us, but it seemed like mere minutes before the time had come for us to change into our uniforms. I kicked the twins out of the compartment - with Frodo guarding the door - while I slipped out of my dress and into the white blouse and thick, black skirt that stopped just above my knees. I tried to tie the black tie around my neck, but after several failures, simply left it hanging around my shoulders as I exchanged my white socks and heels for a pair of black knee-highs and mary janes. I then pulled the bow from my hair and proceeded to twist it into a messy bun on the top of my head before re-pinning the bow on the top.

"Rosaline!" the twins whined through the other side of the door, "Let us in!" They pressed their full weight against the door - whether to push it open by force or to simply annoy me, I couldn't guess. I gave an exaggerated sigh, taking my time as I dragged my feet to the compartment door.

"Oh, all right!" I relented. I swung the door open quickly, and Frodo was just lucky enough to move behind my legs as both boys fell in a heap of tangled limbs in the doorway. I laughed at them, clutching my sides as they tried to stand themselves back up.

"Yeah, real funny, Rosie," Fred grumbled as he brushed some non-existent dirt from his shoulders. I just smirked, crossing my arms over my chest and raising my chin.

"That's what you get for leaning on doors, boys." George shook his head, a small smile gracing his features.

"Don't get all smug about it." He winked, "There'll be no living with you." I stuck my tongue out at him before we all sat back down in our seats; Lee walked in behind them, also dressed in his robes and took the seat across from Fred next to George. I looked out the window as we began passing some dark woods, the lack of light from outside making it difficult to see past our own reflections.

"So, you thought any about what house you'll be in?" George asked. Lee perked up at the question.

"That's right, you haven't been sorted yet, have you?" He grinned at me, "Will you have to do that with the first years tonight?" I shrugged.

"She'll probably have to ride in the boats with them as well," Fred laughed, and I gave him a half-hearted glare.

"What's so wrong with that, might I ask?" I crossed my arms over my chest, knocking my tie off my shoulders and into the floor, where Frodo proceeded to attack it by my feet. George reached down to pick it up for me, chuckling as the little kitten - his claws stuck in the silken fabric - was lifted with it, and unceremoniously dropped the two back into my lap.

"Well, to be fair," Fred pointed out as I carefully tried to pull Frodo's claws from the tie without ripping it, "you seem like you'd fit well with them - can't even be bothered to tie your tie!" I snorted.

"Never had to wear one before,"I said simply. Frodo, having been removed from my tie, seemed suddenly bored, and hopped into his basket, curling up and falling asleep almost instantly. I shook my head. What a lazy cat…

"Here," Fred took the tie from my hands and wrapped it around my neck. Lifting my collar, he tied in a complex-looking knot before tucking it back under the collar again. He then handed me the gray sweater-vest I had placed with the rest of my stuff. "You're gonna want to put that on, as well - gets right cold at the castle this time of night." I scoffed at the thought.

"Oh please, Fred," I replied, standing as I felt the train begin to slow beneath us, "it's September. How cold could it possibly be? Besides, I've got these thick robes to protect me - honestly, you'd think you people would die of heatstroke out here in these things." I walked over to Frodo's basket and reached under the pillow beneath him carefully, grabbing my notebook and pen again and tucking them into the pocket inside my robe before kissing his furry little head.

"See you inside, little hobbit," I whispered excitedly in his ear, earning a slight twitch, and then I headed out the compartment door, the boys following at my heels.

"Why is it so freaking cold?!" I shouted into the crowd; not even two steps onto the station in Hogsmeade, and I was already regretting ignoring Fred's advice. The second I could stand it, I tore off my robe and threw it at Lee before grabbing my sweater-vest from Fred - a smug grin on his face - and pulling it on over my blouse and replacing my robes. "It's September - it shouldn't be this cold!"

"Oh c'mon, Rosie," George laughed, seemingly unperturbed at the chilly weather, "It's not so bad - maybe 9 or 10 Celsius out here."

"And what's that in Fahrenheit?!" I snapped at him, "Pretty fucking cold, that's what!" The three boys laughed at me, but I ignored them in favor of huddling farther into my robes. Why, Scotland, why do you have to be so freezing?!

"Miss McIntosh?" A voice called behind us, and I turned around to see a rather short, plump witch standing behind me. Her silvery hair feel in short waves, though most of it remained hidden beneath a worn, patched hat on her head. The dress she wore underneath her dark robes may once have resembled a golden-yellow color, though now it seemed age and dirt had faded it to more of a sandy shade, with darker spots lining the bottom hem. Her hands were clasped neatly in front of her, though the dirt surrounding her nails gave the impression that she had never cleaned beneath them before in her life. Her face was lightly tanned - though I couldn't tell if it was from the sun or just more dirt - and her mouth was spread into a wide, cheerful smile.

"Evening, Professor Sprout," George called next to me, and I instantly perked up. Of course, who else would have so much dirt under their nails here?

"Hello, Weasleys, Jordan," she greeted them, before turning back to me, "I am Professor Sprout. Professor Dumbledore has sent me to bring you to the castle; you'll be sorted just before the first years." I nodded, turning back to wave to the guys before following the professor into a nearby carriage and making our way to Hogwarts.

The trip itself was fairly quiet, aside from a few questions on my part, and her answers as well. Mostly, I was content to look out the window at the scene before me, leading up to the castle itself. I could see a massive lake in the distance on the right - with the quidditch pitch not far from there, and an even larger, more foreboding forest to the left. Near the edge of the forest was a relatively large, wooden cabin, with a fence around one side and smoke puffing from the chimney. Somewhat farther off, I thought I could see something land in a large, mangled-looking tree some ways past the cabin.

Soon, however, we arrived before the other carriages at the front door to Hogwarts castle. I climbed out the carriage slowly, my jaw likely dragging somewhere near my toes, as I gazed on the sight before me in complete awe and amazement.

"Wow…" I whispered. I had never seen anything so...magical in my entire life. Nothing could have prepared me for the feeling of absolute wonder filling me from head to toe just at the sight of it. It was far bigger than I had even dreamed of, with as many towers and corridors as students lurking within. Every window seemed to be glowing, like they were each filled with a golden fire to keep the students warm from the frosty air. A hand - Professor Sprout's - gently took me by the elbow and began leading me inside.

The inside was just as magnificent as the outside, if not more so. The entrance hall, and everything beyond, was built from light stones and polished marbles, with gold accents lining the different portraits and other decorations on the walls. I tried to take it all in, but we moved swiftly into another room down the hall, where another witch was standing waiting for us.

"Here she is, Minerva," Professor Sprout said, releasing my arm. I looked up at the woman before us, now knowing her to be Professor McGonagall - though it would have been fairly obvious to me anyway, as she so powerfully resembled a slightly younger Maggie Smith. Her salt-and-pepper hair was pulled into a harsh bun, and tucked neatly underneath a green velvet hat. Square glasses sat on the bridge of her thin, pointed nose, and her mouth was set into a stern frown. Her emerald robes touched the ground, but didn't drag - merely glided across the stones with each step she took towards us.

"Thank you, Pomona," she spoke - even her voice is the same - before turning to me, "Good evening, Miss McIntosh." I smiled to her.

"Good evening, Professor." Professor Sprout patted my shoulder for a moment before she left, exiting through a side door into what I assumed was the great hall. Professor McGonagall, for a moment, seemed to smile at me in return, before continuing.

"Professor Dumbledore has informed me of your… situation, McIntosh," she stated. Well, she doesn't beat around the bush, does she? "After you are sorted, your head of house - should you not be in Gryffindor - will also be informed, and you can go to them with your troubles from there. You'll be waiting in here while the first years enter the hall, and be introduced and sorted just after the Sorting Hat sings its song. Do you understand?" I nodded.

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good," She nodded to me, "Now, don't wander off. Professor Dumbledore and I have some business to attend to involving Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley's particular arrival at the castle tonight." I winced, but she left before I could say anything, her stride powerful and somewhat furious-looking.

"Well, I guess all that's left to do is wait…" I huffed to myself, glancing around me. There weren't many things for me to look at as I waited, so I simply stood by the door, twiddling my thumbs as I counted the seconds until I was to be sorted. I could hear some ambient chatter through the door, and assumed that the older students had filed into the hall and taken their seats at their house tables.

I wonder where I'll get placed… I wondered. I hadn't really thought much about it before, but it suddenly hit me as I stood there how impossible it all seemed for me to be sorted into my Hogwarts house. I thought about heading down past the kitchens each night in yellow-trimmed robes, or pulling all-nighters in the library with other Ravenclaws, or even curling up on red-velvet couches between the first two friends I had made in this world.

At least I know I won't be in Slytherin, I sighed internally with relief, They don't let muggleborns in there, and I'd rather stay as far from them as possible. Suddenly, the chatter on the other side of the door quieted down, and I stepped over to crack it open and peek through at the scene. Underneath waves of floating candles, I could only see two of the four tables - the Slytherin and Ravenclaw ones being closest to my hiding spot - but they were nearly full up. Just past a table decorated with blue and bronze drapings, I saw a line of students in black robes walking towards the front of the hall.

Pushing the door open a little wider, I could see one of the legs on the wooden stool in front of the teacher's table, where the new students gathered once they made it forward. Next to the stool stood an extremely short, pale man with wild, white hair and wearing slightly baggy, olive-green robes - it didn't take long for me to recognize him as Professor Flitwick. Flitwick smiled brightly at all the students before him, holding a large scroll in one of his small, meaty hands - the list of names for the sorting, no doubt.

After all the first year students had gathered at the front, another professor I didn't recognize placed an old, ratty-looking hat on the stool and stepped back. I, along with all the other students, waited with baited breath as a seam opened on its side, and the hat began to sing.