‘I’m really excited,’ Anne said, one day at breakfast. ‘I can’t wait to go.’

Her father smiled at her from behind his newspaper, while her mother cut an apple into pieces. She didn’t look as happy as her daughter. ‘Do you really? I thought you would like going to Marymount.’

‘I did, Mum. I would still be, even if that offer hadn’t come.’ Anne reached across the table and took an apple piece. ‘But I can’t let go of it. Who knows what fun I’ll have?’

Anne’s mother sighed while her husband said, ‘True. And it will be a huge opportunity.’ Anne beamed at him, but just as she opened her mouth to say something else, the doorbell rang. She got up from her chair and went to see who the visitor was.

In front of the door, there stood a boy of eleven years, Anne’s age. He had thin, dark blond hair, and his blue eyes twinkled with laughter. He smiled widely as he saw Anne. ‘Hello, good morning! Do you want to come to the playground with me?’ he asked.

‘Good morning, Peter. Yes, sure! I’ll just change into some other clothes.’

‘I’ll wait here.’

Anne shut the door and was already halfway up the stairs into her room when her father left the kitchen and asked who the visitor was. ‘Peter. We want to go to the playground,’ Anne replied. She turned around when she reached the top of the stairs. ‘I can go, can’t I?’

‘Of course, dear. But, remember that we wanted to visit your grandma this afternoon.’

Anne’s face split into a wide smile. ‘Thank you! And I will be back in time.’ She raced down the hallway and into her room – not five minutes later, she was back at the doorway. She hurriedly slipped into some shoes, then bade her parents goodbye. ‘See you later, Mum, Dad!’ Closing the door behind her, she met Peter, who was waiting for her as promised, and together they walked off down the street.

The clouds and sky were very close, nearly within distance for Anne to reach out and grasp them; in the next moment, they were far away again. However, with another mighty swing, she catapulted herself up, closer to the endlessness of the sky once more.

‘If you continue to gather momentum like this, you’ll fall down anytime now.’

Anne laughed, the sound filling the playground. ‘Don’t worry about me, Pete. I’m fine.’ She mightily kicked the air with her legs to prove her point, and the swing rose higher than ever before. Anne’s brown hair flew around wildly, stroking her cheeks in one second; in the next, it was blown out of her face. She enjoyed swinging like that; it gave her the feeling of being free. Her brown eyes sparkled with happiness. To Anne, life couldn’t be any better just then.

Peter, in the meantime, was walking around, gathering stones for his sandcastle’s towers; he intended to have them represent turrets. He had already found a few, but he was still missing twice as many. After all, his castle was supposed to be a stronghold, impregnable by enemies.

His search for stones took him further and further away from the sand box and Anne who was still playing on the swing next to it. He therefore didn’t notice a couple of older boys – around the age of fifteen – entering the playground and heading for his castle of sand. Anne, on the other hand, saw everything in close detail.

‘What is that?’ one of the boys sneered and pointed to the sand box. ‘Seems like a big baby had some fun!’ The others laughed.

‘That’s a sandcastle,’ Anne said, bringing the swing to a sudden stop and climbing off. ‘I call it artful craftsmanship.’ Her voice was filled with awe towards Peter’s ability to build sandcastles that looked neat and above all survived for days on end.

The boys laughed again. ‘Only babies like you can be proud of such… nothingness.’

Anne got angry. ‘Fine. I’m a baby then. I don’t mind.’ She put her hands on her hips, looking positively irritated. ‘If there’s nothing else for you to do than to accuse us of being babies, I suggest you leave.’ Her cheeks were red, and she had to stop herself from shouting out loud at the boys.

‘Hey, did you hear something, Dan?’ one of the teens asked, making as if he was looking for someone who might have spoken and completely ignoring Anne, who stood directly in front of the boys.

‘No. I suppose you should get yourself checked out. Hearing voices is bad, mate,’ Dan, a burly blond-haired youth, replied.

‘We don’t want you to fall ill, you know?’ another boy, a dark-haired one, added, smirking widely at Anne.

Anne was close to exploding out of anger; she had to take several deep breaths and remind herself that shouting or violence would be of no help. However, when the burly Dan climbed into the sand box and started trampling on the fortifications, Anne couldn’t hold it back any longer. She lunged forward and pulled the teen to the ground, away from the sandcastle. The boy’s friends started shouting and came to his help, grabbing Anne and hoisting her up. She was held by one while the other raised his hand to strike a blow.

Peter was just then coming back from his quest for stones. He let them fall immediately and ran towards the group to help his friend, but before he reached them, Anne shouted loudly, ‘Stop!’ There was a flash of light, establishing some kind of see-through wall between Anne and the boy who was going to hit her. When the teen’s fist raced towards Anne’s stomach, it collided with the wall of light. Anne’s eyes widened in surprise, while the boy that had been holding her let go of her all of a sudden. Both teens then grabbed their friend and left the playground rather hurriedly, shouting, ‘Stay out of our way, weirdo!’

Peter watched their retreat, then hurried to Anne when he noticed her sinking to the ground. He helped her to steady herself; she was trembling. ‘You all right?’ Worry resonated in his voice.

‘I-I-I think so…’ Anne stuttered, staring at the place where the wall of light had been. She reached out and tried to grasp it, but there was nothing there, only air.

‘Anne?’

‘Did you see this… wall of light that appeared when he wanted to hit me?’ Peter nodded slowly. ‘I… What was that?’ She turned to look at her friend. ‘It seemed to protect me. Like a… a…’ She searched for the appropriate word.

‘Like a shield?’ Peter offered.

‘Yes!’ Anne held her palms up and studied them closely. ‘What do you think it was?’ She had an idea, but was afraid to tell her friend that; she thought he might think of her as a weirdo as well.

Peter shrugged, but Anne didn’t notice that he seemed a little uncomfortable. ‘How should I know?’ His voice wavered a bit, but Anne didn’t notice that, either.

‘Hmm…’ she mumbled, deep in thought, but Peter’s next words caught her attention.

‘Hey, we should probably leave. They might come back and then –’

‘Yes.’ Anne stood and Peter copied her action. They only grabbed Anne’s jacket, which she had taken off before playing on the swing, then ran home.

The next day, Peter came over again. This time, though, he and Anne decided to play inside. ‘I also need to clean up my room. Mum isn’t happy with how it looks like at the moment,’ Anne said, looking apologetic.

Peter smiled tentatively while both children climbed the stairs. ‘I can help,’ he offered. ‘Besides, your mother is probably exaggerating. I’ve never seen a tidier room than yours,’ he added in a whisper, covering his mouth and Anne’s ear with a hand to ensure that no one could listen in.

Anne giggled. ‘Maybe.’ She opened the door to her bedroom. Peter stopped dead in the doorframe. ‘Or maybe not.’ Anne grimaced when she saw his expression.

‘Holy— What happened here? Did you play war with your things?’ Peter exclaimed incredulously. There were shirts, trousers, blouses, and pullovers strewn all over the floor and chair as well as the bed. The dressers stood open, the drawers out, presenting their content in all glory. Two pairs of shoes were on the floor next to the bed and several books lay stacked on the desk rather than sitting neatly on their shelves. And, above all, a case stood on the bed, open wide. A few clothes were in it. ‘Are you travelling somewhere?’ Peter asked curiously.

Anne had freed the chair of all her possessions and offered it to Peter to sit down, which he did. ‘Yes. In a few weeks, school’s starting, and I’m going to a boarding school.’ She looked at Peter. ‘I should have told you earlier. I’m sorry.’ She looked guilty.

‘Well,’ Peter began slowly, turning around to look at her music collection that lay in a huge pile on the desk, ‘you already told me that, some time ago, remember? But I didn’t tell you that I’m going to a boarding school, too.’ He shot her a quick glance, to see how she took it.

‘Really? Where are you going to?’

Peter avoided her gaze, clearly uncomfortable with how things were going. ‘It’s a relatively unknown school up north.’

Anne came to stand next to him, a couple of pullovers draped over her arms. ‘Which one? Because I’m going to one in the north, too. We might have maybe ended up in the same school and just not know it yet!’ She smiled widely, her earlier guilty expression gone.

‘Weren’t your parents keen on sending you to Marymount here in London?’

‘Yes, at first, but… I got an offer which is much… more interesting.’ Anne was genuinely happy when talking about it. ‘I can’t let this once-in-a-lifetime-chance pass by without grasping it.’

‘The school must be good, then,’ Peter assessed.

‘That’s what the professor who came said, too.’

Peter raised an eyebrow. ‘One of the teachers visited you?’ Anne nodded. ‘Weird…’

‘What is weird?’ Anne began, but Peter changed the topic quickly by saying, ‘Why did you pull out all your cassettes?’ He looked at a couple of them; on the back, Anne had scribbled The Beatles on the majority of them. Peter himself found the music okay, but he wasn’t overly fond of hearing it for unlimited amounts of time. In his opinion, there was better music. He sorted through the cassettes for a while, until he noticed that Anne had yet to say anything. He therefore turned around to see her still standing next to him. ‘Anne?’ he asked.

She turned away and threw the pullovers into the case. ‘I… I need to show you something, Pete.’ She was playing with her fingers in front of her stomach. ‘It’s… a secret, though, so you mustn’t tell anybody.’ She looked at him over her shoulder.

‘Of course,’ Peter hurried to assure her. ‘My lips are sealed.’ He made a motion as if he was zipping his mouth shut, locking it, and throwing an invisible key away. He smiled at Anne, who returned it.

‘The professor who came a couple of days ago,’ Anne began, walking around her bed and reaching underneath it to take something out, ‘she said I’m someone special.’ Anne stood up and sat on the edge of the bed. Peter joined her. ‘She said I’m magical.’ Anne took out a letter and handed it to Peter. ‘She said I’m a witch,’ she whispered into his ear. When Peter tore his eyes away from the heavy letter, he saw hers glittering in excitement.

‘And now…’

Anne started bouncing up and down on the mattress. ‘And now I’m going to a magical school in Scotland. It’s called Hogmar – or something along that line.’ Anne didn’t seem to care that the name of her future school was directly on the front of the envelope Peter was still holding.

Peter gulped. ‘Anne, I… need to tell you something.’

‘Go ahead.’ She wasn’t going to be shocked, whatever it was that Peter seemed to have to tell her. ‘Nothing can surprise me anymore.’

‘Sure?’ Peter asked rhetorically, but he received a nod nonetheless. ‘Then that I’m a wizard and will be going to Hogwarts, too, doesn’t come as a surprise to you?’

Anne’s mouth fell open, and she stared at her friend. ‘You… you… you’re… you’re magic? Like me?’

‘Yes. And my parents are magic, too.’ He grinned. ‘I thought I couldn’t surprise you?’

Squealing loudly, Anne threw the box in which she had hidden the letter away and flung her arms around Peter’s neck. ‘I can’t believe it!’ she screamed in his ear; Peter grimaced. Then, she held him at arm’s distance. ‘We’re going to the same school!’

Peter smiled. ‘Yes. I’m so excited!’

‘Here, read this.’ Peter threw Anne a book which she caught easily. ‘Your reflexes are good,’ he remarked. ‘You could become a Chaser.’

‘A what?’ Anne asked. She was visiting her friend this time, and both children sat in his room, talking about their “special talent�, as Anne had taken to calling it since the day before. She looked at the book. ‘Quidditch through the Ages,’ she read. Anne looked up at Peter. ‘What is Quidditch?’

Peter smiled and sat down on the bed, next to Anne. ‘It’s a wizards’ sport. It’s a bit like netball but played on brooms.’

‘Brooms? You mean, we fly on brooms like in the stories about witches?’

‘Where else do you think that image came from, otherwise?’ He crossed his legs. ‘And a Chaser is a position on the team. They do the scoring.’ He smiled, remembering the one Quidditch match he had once been to with his parents.

‘Sounds interesting. Do they play Quidditch at Hogwarts?’ Peter nodded and watched Anne opening the book. ‘Cool.’ Anne grinned and leafed through the pages, her face showing shock, then surprise followed by excitement at the moving images. ‘I’ll try that one day,’ she declared, watching with rapt attention at how a Chaser of the Chudley Cannons raced towards the goalposts and scored. Then, she closed the book. ‘Tell me about Hogwarts, please, Pete.’

‘What do you want to know?’ he asked, to which she exclaimed, passionately, ‘Everything, of course!’ ‘All right, there are four Houses…’

Two weeks later, Peter’s parents took Anne and their son to Diagon Alley to purchase all their school supplies. Anne had never before travelled by Floo – which Peter’s mother found to be the fastest and easiest way to go to the city centre – so she was especially shocked they would go through the fireplace. ‘But – but – but –,’ she stuttered, ashen-faced, ‘fire is hot!’

Peter resolutely took her hand and held it close to the hearth. ‘Here, feel it. Do you feel any heat?’ Anne looked afraid, but shook her head, albeit reluctantly. ‘Let me show you.’ He took a little bit of the green powder and threw it into the fire. Immediately, the flames changed their colour, and Peter edged closer still, thus bringing Anne nearer as well.

‘It’s cold!’ Anne exclaimed, dumb-struck.

Peter nodded. ‘It is. So, there’s no need to fear it.’ He offered her the pot with the Floo powder and she took a handful. ‘Throw it in, then say, loudly and clearly, “Diagon Alley�. Oh, and keep your elbows close to your body,’ Peter added, as an afterthought.

Travelling by Floo wouldn’t become one of Anne’s favourite ways to travel, but she appreciated the speed with which one got from one place to another.

‘Do you have everything?’ Peter’s mother asked, several hours after their arrival in Diagon Alley.

Anne looked at the many bags she carried. They contained all the books she would need in her first year, a complete set of potion ingredients plus a cauldron, quills, ink and rolls of parchment. They had been to Madam Malkin’s to fit the children for their robes; Peter’s mother would fetch them in a couple of days.

‘Only the wands are missing, Mum,’ Peter voiced what Anne thought after her mental check of the bags’ content and comparing it to the list of things they would need.

‘Let’s go to Ollivander’s, then.’ It was Peter’s father who promptly took the lead.

The wandmaker’s shop interior was dark in comparison to the sunlit alley, and Anne found that the bell over the door rang a bit ominously. But she was surprised at the long and high shelves, filled with thick and thin boxes.

‘Hello,’ a man greeted them. Anne, deep in thought, jumped.

‘We would like to buy wands for these two,’ Peter’s father said.

The man, Mr Ollivander, smiled. ‘Of course. Shall we begin with the young lady here?’ Anne blushed at the compliment.

It took quite some time, as well as a lot of wands and tries, until Anne finally held her own wand in her hands. It was made of apple wood and a phoenix tail feather as the core, was nine inches long, and ‘very springy, good for all kinds of charms, especially healing spells’, as Mr Ollivander had put it. ‘That’s six Galleons, please,’ Mr Ollivander said.

Anne took out her purse and started sorting through the coins. Peter’s parents had taken her to Gringotts Bank right after entering Diagon Alley so that she could change Muggle money into wizarding currency. She had paid for all her other items on her own, without the help of Peter, who stood next to her and waited for Anne to ask for his help with the still unfamiliar coins. But Anne had been determined to get it right. And she had mostly succeeded, a feat of which she was proud.

‘Here you go, sir,’ she eventually said, handing Mr Ollivander his money. He smiled, then turned towards Peter.

Another long while and many more tried wands later, Peter, too, held his own wand in his hands. But, unlike Anne’s, its wood was mahogany, and the core a string from a dragon’s heart. His father paid, then the four were off towards the Leaky Cauldron, from where they would travel back to Peter’s house.

On the last day of August, Peter found Anne in her parents’ garden. She sat beneath a huge apple tree, flipping through a book with Muggle fairytales. She looked lost.

‘Hey, what happened?’ Peter asked her, concerned, crouching down next to her.

Anne sniffed. ‘We’re leaving tomorrow, and as much as I’m excited to go to Hogwarts, I’ll miss my home.’ She looked up and at the house across the garden. ‘I’ll miss Mum and Dad and all my things I can’t take with me.’

Peter sat down fully, taking Anne’s hands in his, bringing her to look at him. ‘You’ll come back in a couple of weeks already, over the Christmas holidays. And then there’s Easter in April. And soon after that, it’s the summer holidays again, where you have two months to see your parents. Besides, you can write to them, and they can send letters to you. It’s just like it would have been in another boarding school as well, just that Hogwarts is teaching magic.’

‘I know,’ Anne said, sniffing again. ‘It’s just… it’s still…’ She sniffed some more. Peter handed her a handkerchief and she blew her nose, then hugged her book. ‘People will stare at me because I have non-magic parents.’

‘Not everyone will have a wizard and a witch as parents, Anne,’ Peter said. ‘There are other Muggle-borns, like you are.’ She looked at him through her brown eyes. ‘In fact, people with two magical parents are quite rare nowadays. It’s mostly half-bloods or Muggle-borns all the way through.’ He smiled reassuringly, and Anne shot a small smile back at him. She raised an arm and wiped away the tears with her hand.

‘Thanks.’

‘Feeling better?’ Peter asked, and Anne nodded. He stood and helped her up. ‘How about we go and listen to some music? This way, you’ll have it fresh in mind when leaving tomorrow.’

Anne’s smile grew a bit wider. ‘All right.’ Together, they set off towards Anne’s bedroom.

The next morning dawned bright and sunny, but there was a crisp wind racing through the streets and chasing the clouds across the blue sky. Anne slipped in her jacket, then followed her parents out. Her father had already loaded her trunk into the back of the car and had then gone and rang at Peter’s house. Both families had agreed to bring the children to the train station together.

Anne sat in the back of the car, talking with her parents while the car radio played Beatles songs. She was excited again, looking ahead for the adventure that was going to unfold in her life. But she was still a bit sad, more so that she had to leave behind her cassettes of the Beatles. She would miss listening to their songs. But Peter had introduced her to some wizard singers over the summer; she found them okay – nothing overly fancy, but good enough to act as a substitute for the time she would be separated from her Beatles music.

‘Excited already?’ Anne’s mother asked when the train station came into view, turning around in her seat.

A grin spread across Anne’s face. ‘Yes. This is really awesome. It still feels like I’m in a dream and it isn’t really happening, but Peter assures me it’s real, and that we’re going to be in Hogwarts this evening.’ Her mother smiled when she saw the sparkle in her daughter’s eyes.

They found a place to park the car and then got out. Peter and his family had parked close by, and all six made their way over to platforms nine and ten. Anne wondered where there would be a platform nine and three-quarters, like the directions in her letter indicated, but Peter promised it would be there. But when they came to a halt in front of a pillar between platforms nine and ten, the one Anne and Peter were supposed to get to wasn’t there. She turned towards her friend with a questioning look on her face.

Peter grinned, then started pushing his trolley towards the pillar. Anne thought he must have lost it, but his mother followed him, to her surprise. But none of them bumped against the stone; they walked right through it. They didn’t appear on the other side, though.

Anne’s father turned towards Peter’s. ‘So this is…?’

‘Yes, that’s the entrance to platform nine and three-quarters.’ He smiled at Anne. ‘Don’t be afraid. Just give the trolley a good push, and you’ll get through.’

Anne was very sceptical when she started walking towards the pillar. Her father would handle the trolley. She reached out to lay her hand against the stone, but instead of touching it, it went through it. Anne gasped, then stretched until nearly her entire arm was gone. Taking a deep breath, she took the last step and walked through the pillar.

Peter waited for her on the other side. He had his eyebrows raised. ‘What was that? You were waving your hand and then arm but didn’t follow right away.’

She smiled sheepishly. ‘I had to be sure before I go through.’ Peter laughed, then took her hand and walked towards the scarlet train that stood there, waiting to be boarded by the students that mingled on the platform, either with friends or their families. Anne saw a lot of people. Especially the younger children, around her own age, were hugged goodbye and given some last instructions. A few tears fell as well, though less on the pupil’s side.

Anne then turned to get a closer look at the train. It was quite long, but it had to be to fit all the students. From the locomotive’s chimney, grey smoke rose upwards in curls, showing that it would leave in a couple of minutes. Peter’s father accompanied his son and Anne and helped the children to put the trunks in the luggage racks in an empty compartment Peter had found, then all got off the train once more to say goodbye.

‘Be good and write, you hear me, Anne?’ her mother said, smiling but tears glistening in her eyes.

‘I will, Mum,’ Anne said and returned the hug with a fierce one of her own. She loved her mother and knew she would miss her, although Christmas, when she would see her parents again, wasn’t so far away. She then hugged her father as well. ‘I love you, Mum and Dad,’ she said and gave them a brave smile.

‘We love you, too, sweetheart,’ her father said.

A shrill whistle was blown, and all students hurried towards the train. Peter took Anne’s hand and both climbed on board as well. The doors were shut. The children went to their compartment, where Peter opened the window. They then waved goodbye quickly; the train had started moving already.

‘Bye, Mum! Bye, Dad!’ Peter and Anne shouted, before their parents vanished when the train turned a corner.

The train ride was fairly uneventful, and Anne soon longed for more action. She grew restless, until Peter suggested a game of Exploding Snap. It proved a good thing to do, as Anne didn’t know how the game was played. Peter explained the rules to her while playing; Anne learnt quickly, but still lost three games to Peter.

It was during their sixth round that the compartment door opened. A girl with light brown shoulder-long hair and pale complexion looked in. ‘Hello,’ she greeted shyly. ‘Do you possibly have another seat available?’

Anne nodded. ‘Sure.’ She quickly took the book she had leafed through earlier, and laid it aside. ‘Make yourself comfortable.’

The girl smiled. ‘Thank you. I’m Mary, by the way.’ She smiled warmly, and Peter and Anne returned the smile.

‘That’s Peter and I’m Anne,’ Anne introduced. ‘We’re playing Exploding Snap. Want to join?’

Mary beamed happily at being welcomed so openly. ‘Yes, please.’

The sun had already sunk when the train slowed down and eventually came to a complete halt in Hogsmeade station. Every student got off the train, the first years looking a bit lost, among them Peter, Mary and Anne. Anne asked Peter where to go, but he didn’t know the answer.

The answer came when a deep male voice called above all heads, ‘Firs’ years, over here! Firs’ years!’ The three children turned towards the place the voice came from, and they saw a huge man hold up a lantern. ‘Firs’ years over here, please!’ Anne, Peter and Mary followed the call, and once all first years seemed to have assembled around the big man, he walked off in another direction from the one the older students had taken. He led them down a slippery and dark path until they reached the shore of a huge lake. And, on a hill on the other side of the lake, there stood Hogwarts.

‘Wow,’ the children breathed. The castle, with its many towers and lit windows that were tiny from the distance, looked absolutely stunning. Anne asked Peter to pinch her to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

The tall man ushered them into boats in which they crossed the lake. They drove into a cave beneath the castle and got out of the boats in the underground haven. The man then led them on a path out of the cave and up the hill until they came to a halt directly in front of the castle. The man knocked three times, and the huge double doors opened.

The hall beyond was even bigger, and Anne craned her neck in every direction, eager to take everything in. She noticed the wide and gleaming marble staircase, the wondrous ceiling, and the double doors at one side. Voices floated to the first years from behind the double doors; Anne assumed that would be the Great Hall Peter had told her about, the place where they ate their meals at the four long house tables. She gulped, growing nervous.

A stern-looking witch in emerald robes and a tight bun asked the first years to enter into another chamber. ‘Welcome to Hogwarts,’ she said. ‘My name is Professor McGonagall, and in a few moments, we will be ready to Sort you into the House you will fit most. There are four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each has its own long history as well as famous witches and wizards, and each House and its students will be your family for your time here at Hogwarts. You will share dorms and have classes with your housemates. Every well-doing will be rewarded with points for your House. At the end of the year, the House Cup will be awarded to the House with the most points. But be warned that any wrong-doing will lose your House points and earn you a detention. If you follow the rules, you will do well and be in no trouble. If you break the rules, you will face the consequences.’ She looked around, silently willing the students to not get on any professor’s wrong foot.

‘I will be back in a few moments and then the Sorting can begin. Take the time to straighten yourselves a bit.’ With that, Professor McGonagall left the chamber.

Anne turned to Peter. ‘It’s close now. I’m so excited to see into which House I’ll be Sorted.’ She smiled widely, infecting Peter with her attitude until he, too, was very excited and eager to learn about his House. He hoped he and Anne would be in the same House.

Once Professor McGonagall returned, Anne experienced everything in a kind of blur. She walked beside Peter into the Great Hall, where all first years were asked to stand in front of the staff table that faced the house tables, listened to the Sorting Hat’s song, and waited with bated breath until her name would be called so that she could step forward and try the Hat on.

‘Pettigrew, Peter.’

Anne squeezed Peter’s hand reassuringly before letting go. He smiled briefly back at her, then sat down. Professor McGonagall put the Hat on his head, and for some moments that seemed like eternity to Anne, there was no sound. Eventually, the Hat shouted, ‘GRYFFINDOR!’

The table at the far left broke into a huge applause, while Peter stumbled over and sat down at the end closest to the staff table. He shot a wide beam towards Anne, who grinned back at him.

A couple more students were Sorted, and then it was finally Anne’s turn.

‘Sullivan, Anne.’

With shaking knees and a knot in her throat, Anne stumbled forwards and sat down. The professor put the Hat on Anne’s head, then everything went dark when the large brim fell over her eyes.

‘I see,’ a voice suddenly spoke into Anne’s ears, and she jumped a bit. ‘You’re smart, you’re brave and loyal, you care for your friends.’

‘Please, let it be Gryffindor,’ Anne begged mentally, hoping that the Hat would hear it.

‘Gryffindor? Now, you truly do possess some of that House’s qualities, but even more of another House in which you will fit much better. You do not have the recklessness and boldness to be a Gryffindor.’

Anne was saddened, and grew afraid the Hat meant Slytherin. From Peter, she hadn’t heard too many good things of that House. Most of the dark wizards and witches that had emerged in history had once been in Slytherin, apparently.

‘Slytherin? Oh, no, my dear, you’re not of Slytherin material, in no way whatsoever. No, you fit best into HUFFLEPUFF!’

This announcement surprised Anne, and she sat stock-still for a while. It took Professor McGonagall to usher her off the stool. When Anne then walked over to her clapping and cheering house mates, still in shock, she looked at Peter. She remembered all the fun they had had together, the many moments they had spent together, living through happy and sad times. She felt again the hope they had shared to be Sorted into the same House.

But the Sorting Hat had separated very close friends of many years, by simply uttering a few words.