Silence. There was nothing else in the vast hallways of the ancient Scottish castle. No students were running through the corridors, no voices whispering about yet another tragedy. Silence and darkness, a darkness so different from all the time that she knew this place. Clouds were obscuring the sky, only a few stars were barely visible. Looking out of the window, Minerva McGonagall sighed. These were dark times indeed. As of the last year, they were at war. Again. Yet another generation of witches and wizards would be marked forevermore with the horrors that were sure to come. Sipping on her cup of tea, she remembered back to when she attended Hogwarts, all those years ago. Never had she experienced a war while being in this castle. But in the muggle world, the effects of the Global Wars were palpable as well, even for a kid. In the darkness of this night, the castle shone like a bright beacon, for when the students would arrive in a short time. They would be welcomed by the warm lights of Hogwarts, taken out of the darkness that surrounded them on their way here. Maybe they had a chance, a chance to protect the children, to engulf them in the joys of the luminous castle. Maybe, it would all turn out to be alright.

Maybe, but she didn’t expect this dream to become true. The war had only started in the last year, but looking back, the first signs of it were already visible long before it was actually declared a war. Those outbursts of violence, those random killings - none of it was random, probably. And it was not only the outside world, she realised with a shudder. There were some students who were supporting the violence, the so-called purge. There were some who would welcome this darkness, who might even embrace it. Would Hogwarts manage to be a visible beacon of light for all those lost in the darkness? Or would she be destroyed from within, corrupted in her very core? Not all her alumni were fighting for the Light, she knew this for sure. To be honest, she would have preferred it if no Hogwarts alumnus was to participate in this madness. They were still too young to be confronted with the cruelty of war. They were too young to die already.

Slowly, steadily, the silence was broken. It was the chattering of hundreds of children, leaving the carriages to make their way towards the ancient castle, that stopped Minerva McGonagall’s train of thoughts. Dark figures, only their outlines visible from the distance. Hardly any light was visible, the stars and the moon hidden behind massive clouds. A storm was coming, and they would hopefully all manage to seek refuge within the walls of Hogwarts before it hit. As she heard the first steps, she rose to go and greet the arriving first-years. Most students had left the carriages by now, only a few stragglers were still left behind.Their shadows lengthening as they approached the castle, only to be lost in the brightness of the welcoming arms of Hogwarts. It was a time of change for sure. It was not only the war that was bound to change her experiences at Hogwarts this year, it was her new position as well. Tonight, for the first time, it would be she who greeted the first-year students, who led them into the Great Hall and watched them become a part of the grand legacy of Hogwarts as they were sorted.

As she approached the entry hall, waiting for the students to arrived, she couldn’t help but to remember the first time that she set time into Hogwarts. The day on which she was finally able to embrace her legacy. To enter the world that was closed forevermore to her mother. The dreams she wanted to chase, the awe she felt when seeing the castle for the first time. The castle that would become her second home for the following years, and was shining today as magnificently as it did all those years ago. In just a couple of short moments, she would meet the new students for the very first time. She would be the one to welcome them in this castle, the place that would hopefully become a safe haven, a second home. Though she had been teaching for years, welcoming the first year-students was something special.

“The firs’-years, Professor McGonagall.” The deep baritone of Hagrid filled the entire hall as the students stumbled into the castle. As his huge frame is casting enormous shadows on them, it is hard to say what they looked like. Were they looking forward to being a part of Hogwarts, were they looking forward to learning magic? Or were they scared, like she was, with all those ominous rumours about the sorting, about making friends, fitting in, being far away from home? As the children - aspiring first year-students, she mentally corrected herself - stepped out of the shadows, she observed them carefully. Secretly, she had always scoffed at the former deputy when being told that greeting the new students was probably the most magical moment that you could ever experience at Hogwarts. But now, seeing them, a warm feeling tingled through her body, warming her from the inside like a hot butterbeer. Until now, they were a group, intermingling with one another. Tentative bounds of friendship started to develop, groups were keeping close to each other. Would these acquaintances survive the sorting tonight? Or would they be ripped apart, sorted into different houses, and stop seeing the similarities between them to only focus on their differences? Only time would tell.

Were they really all as similar to one another as it seemed, just from the look in their eyes? Or were their differences the most distinguishing feature? Bold and humble, rich and poor, healthy and sick, groomed and neglected - but still sharing one important talent, magic. Now, they were just like a dark horse, full of surprises. No one knew what their future would hold. No one knew if they would have a future, if they would live to see graduation day. But now wasn’t the time to care about what ifs, now was the time for them to be sorted, to become a part of the biggest legacy that existed in the British magical world. To become a part of Hogwarts.

“Welcome, Hogwarts class of 1978.” Giggling and confused children greeted her, with the giggles swiftly stifled after a stern glance. They didn’t think that far ahead, living in the moment. Who cared about graduation, now that they were only just about to enter school? But that was where they were headed, Minerva McGonagall reminded herself. They would be the class of ‘78, after finishing their education. If they finished it, that is. And as they were facing dark times, it was probable that not all of them would still attend school when they would be given their diplomas. Some would leave the country, some would drop out of school after their OWL exams, some would probably need to repeat a grade in order to pass their exams. Out of the many students that were facing her now, how many would she be congratulating in less than seven years, when giving them their diplomas?

They were staring at her almost awestruck. Inwardly, she grinned slightly. Mission accomplished, they were impressed. That was always a part of Hogwarts traditions. This, and not telling them anything about the sorting. Time to give them some more information, to make them wonder even more.

“The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony, as it will influence your schooling for the time that you spend at Hogwarts.”

Fondly, she remembered standing here all that years ago, wondering how she’d be sorted. They’d need to wrestle a troll, that was what some older students told her. And as naive as she was, she promptly believed them, worrying until she finally saw the Sorting Hat in the Great Hall. Apparently, these things would never change - not even the rumours flying around, if she had heard the whisperings about the sorting correctly. Wrestling a troll, indeed! The school nurse would have their head, and rightfully so.

“During your time at Hogwarts, you will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room. Your house will be like your family.” Or, in some cases, more than that. Glancing at the students’ faces, she definitely recognised some siblings. They usually ended up in the same houses, growing even closer. Even more importantly, the Hogwarts house could sometimes become more of a substitute family than a student’s relatives. There were always those who depended more on this community than others. The homesick ones, the neglected ones, the abused children. Those who were unable to act like themselves at home. Those who needed to hide their heritage. And though she was a grown woman, a teacher no one ever wanted to cross, she still enjoyed that homey feeling connected to Hogwarts. The possibility to be herself, to use magic freely, to live just the way she wanted to. To be challenged, cherished as a witch. To avoid the ivory tower of a world without magic, imprisoning her mother. Her family was family, but Hogwarts - Gryffindor - was too. Maybe even more so.

Peering sternly over her glasses, she started to introduce the houses. Many students knew where they wanted to go, where they were expected to go. Some were confused, as they had never heard those names before. But all of them were to learn a bit about their founders, before prejudice took them over and prevented them to see the good in the other houses.

“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.” By no means was this supposed to become a history lesson, but they needed to know as much. “There have been outstanding witches and wizards in every house, and I am sure that all of you will be a credit to whichever house you’ll be sorted in.” Some more, and some less. There were always those students who were extraordinary in their achievements, and those who merely scraped by. There were always those who were upholding the rules, and those who were ignoring him. “Each house is rewarded with house point for stellar behaviour, and rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the school year, at the leaving feast, the house with the most house points will be awarded the House Cup. It is a great honour, and I am certain that you all will do your best to ensure that your house will be the one to win.” Yes, that should do nicely. And now it was almost time for them to enter the Great Hall to be sorted. The last of the older students had left the corridors, and the prefects had been told the passwords. Now, it would only need some more time to ensure that all students had settled down, so that the first years could make the usual grand entrance.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes. While you wait, I suggest that you smarten yourselves up as much as possible.” Eyes lingering on most of the students, she could easily see that her words had the desired effect. Flattening their hair, refastening their cloaks, surreptitiously wiping their smudgy faces on their robes. Well, they were only eleven, hopefully they’d learn some manners soon enough.

“I will return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly.” To be honest, she never expected them to be quiet. They were too excited, too worried, to be perfectly quiet. Not even taking into account that they were children. She’d never understand why there were only sweets available on the Hogwarts Express. She had asked Professor Dumbledore - Albus, as she should call him now - again and again. They were that excited already, being away from home. Why should this excitement, this agitation and hyperactivity, be worsened by allowing them to spend multiple hours eating nothing but sweets? They would be bouncing off the walls tonight. Luckily, it would be the prefects who were forced to deal with this.

Walking into the Great Hall, she set a three-legged stool at the front of the Hall, facing the rest of the students. On it, she placed what most people believe to be the most fascinating legacy left by the founders: the ancient-looking, moth-eaten Sorting Hat. Setting him down so that he would be facing the students, Minerva McGonagall was about to turn back to go and get the new students, when a quiet whisper made her stop in her tracks. A humming, almost. The ancient hat, looking lifeless only a moment ago, began to straighten itself, filled to the brim with magic. Never would she have expected this simple job to be this rewarding. The children’s awe, welcoming them to the castle, and seeing the Sorting Hat reawaken. And the most important part of this evening was yet to come. Treading back to the antechamber, making them form a proper line, there was only one thing left to do.

“Move along now, the Sorting Ceremony is about to start. We are ready for you.”