Toads were old news. In this image-obsessed era, such low-appeal pets had long been out of fashion.
Neville's story made one thing abundantly clear: the generational gap between wizards was terrifying. Researching that might be a lot more meaningful than, say, analyzing the bottom of a cauldron.
Of course, no one present was particularly inclined to start such a study. Reports like that were usually handed off to the Ministry of Magic, mostly to prove that its many departments weren't just sitting around sipping pumpkin juice and butterbeer while flipping through the Daily Prophet to kill time.
But all of that missed the real point of the story.
The point was this: the one knocking on their door was a bushy-haired girl with large front teeth, an appearance that drew attention in its own right. She stared wide-eyed at the young wizard who had answered the door, clearly surprised... and then Allen read something in her expression: pure delight.
"Ah!" That was the sound someone makes when they unexpectedly run into a familiar face. Then the girl launched into a rapid-fire barrage of words.
"You're a Hogwarts student too? Oh, of course you are! I mean, this is the only wizarding school in Britain, how could you not be going to Hogwarts? I'm just so happy! Ever since I got my acceptance letter, I haven't been able to think about anything else!"
She really was overjoyed. After all, for someone who had always been a top student, one who had a few little secrets she didn't dare tell anyone, it was hard not to feel like an outsider.
So when she realized she wasn't the only one like that, she threw herself into studying, determined not to be seen as a weirdo. Not realizing, of course, that even at Hogwarts, brainiacs were a rare breed, nobody really liked that kid.
Fueled by excitement for her new life, this eager girl had already started helping her fellow students before she even fully got her bearings. Hey now, how did she get in here so easily?
By the time Hermione stepped into the compartment, Annie was wrestling with a massive cake, Hogwarts Express special, great value for the price. Totally worth it.
"Huh?" Annie blinked. Though they'd met a year ago, she clearly didn't remember the girl before her, or perhaps she simply remembered the toothache that followed their encounter better.
At that moment, Annie, cheeks puffed like a squirrel with food, froze. She'd expected Allen to smoothly send the visitor away. Now, she found herself in a dilemma: she had to pretend no one was watching her as she struggled to swallow the giant bite of cake.
Thankfully, Neville hadn't barged in too. That would have made things twice as awkward.
When Annie finally turned back around, cheeks still a little red, Hermione had already launched into introductions.
"Um, even though we've technically met, I should probably introduce myself properly. I'm Hermione Granger, a first-year. I'm really excited to be at Hogwarts this year! So, um, may I ask who you are?"
"Allen Robint," he said, pointing to himself. Robint was the last name of the head of their orphanage.
"My sister, Annie Robint," he added, since Annie was still gulping down pumpkin juice to wash the cake down.
"Oh, I see! Are you upperclassmen? Do you know anything about the Sorting Ceremony? Could you maybe show me a few more spells?" she asked, speaking so quickly and breathlessly that Allen barely had a chance to respond.
Just as Allen was about to try answering her barrage of questions one by one, Annie, finally back to normal, pointed to the compartment door where Neville was still standing, deep in thought.
"Weren't you looking for a toad? I think your friend's still out there waiting."
"Oh no! Merlin, I completely forgot! I'm so sorry, Neville!" she cried, dashing off and dragging Neville who was still pondering his life and his toad with her.
Annie calmly sat back down, took a slow sip of pumpkin juice, and smiled. "Honestly, without proper guidance, this whole Sorting thing feels like some scary little game that'll keep dragging on until the final result is announced."
"Allen," she added, while petting their cat Pudding, "that little witch was kind of annoying."
Fair point. For all her terrifying intellect, the girl's emotional intelligence was... pretty dismal.
How could someone capable of scoring massive points for her House have no female friends whatsoever? That level of social cluelessness was actually impressive.
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As the train whistle blew, the students were quickly led to the carriages.
As for the first-years, well, let's just say they were about to face their destiny.
In short, the younger students needed some "character development," and the upperclassmen were all for it, cheering them on with the magical equivalent of 32 likes. The sentiment was not unlike college seniors secretly praying for sunny weather during freshmen military training. All out of love, of course.
They queued up, filed in, and took their seats at their House tables to welcome the newcomers. No prank spells or red envelope tricks were allowed during the ceremony, but time-honored traditions still made this moment worth watching. Like the age-old practice of admiring the clueless, terrified expressions of the new students as they awaited their fate.
This year, however, there were a lot of ghostly onlookers. Nearly every House ghost had shown up. In a dim corner, Allen even spotted Moaning Myrtle's head poking halfway out of a wall.
Seriously? You're already spying on Harry?
Shocking! Hogwarts' resident pervy ghost caught spying on a certain unnamed first-year boy right as he arrived at school!
Now that he thought about it, Merlin, how many boys had that ghost seen since she'd died in that bathroom thanks to Tom Riddle and some very "unspeakable" circumstances?
Maybe the entire Harry Potter series is actually about... The Boys Who Were Peeped On By Moaning Myrtle?!
Unbelievable...
While Allen was still reeling from that thought, the Sorting Hat had nearly finished its job for the year.
Finally, to much anticipation, the Sorting Hat shouted its decision atop the head of a black-haired boy:
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Dumbledore said nothing, but Allen was sure he was smiling.
After all, if the Sorting Hat had said "Slytherin," the headmaster would've had a lot more options, like... offing Harry, or maybe making someone else off him?
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