Soon enough, the train pulls to a slow stop, and Changkyun tentatively stands. He climbs up the seat, reaching onto the overhead shelf to grab one of his carry-on bags, and follows the flow of students off the train and onto the platform.

“First years this way!” a deep, gruff voice calls out over the sea of sound. Changkyun looks around, following the other kids who were similarly tiny towards a large, lumbering form waving around a golden lantern. He stares up at the older-looking man with a shaggy beard and matted mane of a hairdo, unsure of what was going on. The older kids begin to shuffle off in different directions, leaving only the new arrivals on the platform.

“Welc’me to ‘ogwarts,” the stranger greets. “My name is Rubeus ‘agrid, Keeper uh Keys and Grounds and the Care of Magical Creatures professor. I’ll be takin all ‘uh ya to the boats that’ll take you all to the Great ‘all.” Hagrid then turns on his heel, which Changkyun notes seems to be as big as his torso, and begins to babble on about what to expect during the first year. Changkyun tries his best to focus and listen, but his eyes won’t stay still. They dart this way and that, making it impossible for him to concentrate on anything.

Next thing he knows, he’s standing at the edge of an inky black lake, a row of boats lining the shore. He acts on autopilot, climbing into the nearest boat with two other first years. The boat then begins to glide away, pulled by an unseen force. The other first-years begin to chat excitedly about what classes they'll most likely be taking, but Changkyun can't bring himself to contribute to the conversation, instinctively retreating into his nervous shell.

Upon leaving the boat, he follows the other first-years towards a looming castle, its windows sparkling like the starry curtain behind it. He can’t help but be in awe of the sight. How had muggles never heard of this place? How could it be such a well-kept secret all these years? He walks through the twenty-foot-tall doors, looking everywhere around him, his dark brown eyes darting at every little thing that moved like a newborn. He accidentally bumps into the person in front of him, a taller girl with sleek black hair, and she shoots him an annoyed glance before turning back around. He mumbles a small apology, very much embarrassed by his own actions.

There’s a sound of a large set of doors opening, and the group begins to shuffle along once more. Changkyun stares up, his mouth agape in shock at the candles hovering above his head among the canopy of stars.

“My grandma says it’s only an illusion,” a squeaky male voice says from somewhere behind him. “She read to me about it from Hogwarts: A History.” Changkyun makes a mental note to himself to somehow find that book later, it sounding like it might have some useful information. He manages to tear his eyes away from the ceiling and looks around the room, and realizes this must be their version of a cafeteria. Four impossibly long tables take up the majority of the room, leaving only a few aisles for walking among them. At the table on the far left, he surprisingly spots a familiar face. Jooheon waves at him with a dimpled grin from across the Hall, and Changkyun gives a small wave back.

The group stops once more. Changkyun peers over the shoulders of the people in front of him, and spots a stool with an impossibly old-looking, rag of a hat sitting atop it. An old, tall woman with a severe-looking face stands beside the stool, a scroll so long it falls down the steps between her and the children in her hands.

She welcomes the first-years to the Sorting Ceremony, and Changkyun can’t help but gulp. This is as far as the representative from that fateful day had bothered to go in his explanation of the school. After this, Changkyun is on his own. His palms begin to sweat, and he shoves them into his pockets in an effort to hide them.

He listens as the other first-years’ names are called, watches them as they excitedly bounce up the steps to be Sorted. He can’t believe it. How could they not seem nervous? Were all these kids fortunate enough to not come from all-muggle families? Was he the only one? That old guy who brought him his letter had said—

“Lim Changkyun,” the woman suddenly calls. It’s suddenly hard for him breathe, oxygen becoming a foreign concept to his lungs. He shuffles up the stairs on autopilot, nodding respectfully to the woman holding the hat. She gives him a small, understanding smile, and nods for him to take a seat. He does as he’s supposed to, biting his lower lip as his shaking eyes stare expectantly at the Sorting Hat. He tries to clear his mind, does anything he can to calm down. He begins to mumble some lyrics he’s been working on under his breath, but his nerves cause him to stutter every other syllable out in hushed tones.

“SLYTHERIN!” the Hat declares, making Changkyun give a relieved giggle. He couldn’t believe he’d been fortunate enough to be Sorted into the same House as Jooheon, or that he could be so happy to be Sorted into what seems to be the most hated House in the entire school. There’s boisterous applause from the table he had seen Jooheon at what felt like hours ago, but couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. He steps down from the stool, focusing all his energies into not tripping down the steps, and finds it very hard to lift his head.

What if Jooheon is the only decent one in the entire House? What if Jooheon was the only one to accept him? He’d be bullied senseless, just like at his old school.

He’s suddenly pulled into a hug, and the fog from his mind lifts. Jooheon’s smiling face is before him, and he offers Changkyun a seat next to him at the table. He takes it gratefully, sitting silently until the end of the Sorting Ceremony.

“Changkyun-ah!” Jooheon says, clapping a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re in Slytherin! I know you must be nervous about it, but you’ll see what I told you is true. Slytherin isn’t all that bad.” Sitting across from them is the dark-haired boy that had scared Jooheon on the train earlier, and he extends a delicate hand towards Changkyun.

“Welcome to the House,” he greets jovially. “It’s Changkyun, right?” Changkyun takes the proffered hand, shaking it lightly while nodding. There’s a sharp yet slow intake of breath to his right, and he glances over to see a pink-haired boy reaching for a piece of chicken. Changkyun stares at the platter of food, baffled. When did the food get here?

“First year is tough,” the boy comments, “especially for a muggle-born Slytherin. There’s a lot of purists in this House.” He then flashes Changkyun a bright, toothy grin, revealing dimples that blow Jooheon’s out of the water in size. “I’m Yoo Kihyun, a fourth year.” There’s a loud slurping sound to Changkyun’s left, and Kihyun shoots the source of the noise a reprimanding glare.

“Hyung,” Kihyun says, “you’re dripping broth everywhere.” He then grabs a napkin and throws it at the offender, Changkyun’s stare following the cloth to a blue-haired boy, obviously older than everyone else judging by his height and biceps causing his sleeves to seem tighter on his arms than they were meant to. The older one grabs the napkin silently, dabbing at his mouth and eating area as he swallows his mouthful of noodles.

“Name’s Hoseok,” he introduces himself casually to Changkyun, “I’m a fifth-year.”

“I’m Changkyun,” Changkyun greets with a respectful bow of his head in a low voice. “Nice to meet you all.”

“He’s a rapper,” Jooheon announces excitedly, “and a good one, too. We talked on the ride here about lyrics and beats. He has some pretty good ideas. I was thinking we could use him in our group.” He glances around at everyone expectantly, but Minhyuk clicks his tongue at Jooheon, the shake of his head causing Changkyun’s heart to drop. He should’ve known it wasn’t going to be so easy to be accepted.

“That isn’t our call,” Minhyuk states simply. “Besides, we haven’t even heard him rap.” Jooheon’s face contorts into the widest grin Changkyun has ever seen, his eyelids becoming mere crescents.

“Hyung,” Jooheon begs in an impossibly high-pitched voice, “just think about it, please?” Jooheon twists around in his seat, controlling his swinging torso with his shoulders. Immediately upon hearing Jooheon’s ‘cutesy’ voice, Changkyun had gagged slightly, jolting forward and holding a hand in front of his open mouth cheekily. Upon seeing this, Kihyun had lurched backward, nearly falling off his seat. A wide grin was on his face, a breathy, hyena-like laugh escaping him as he pressed his hands to his middle to help himself breathe.

“Aw, Jooheon-ey!” Minhyuk cries, pressing his hands against his puffed-out cheeks. “That’s not playing fair!” He then looks over to Kihyun for support. “Mom, tell Jooheon-ah to stop!” Kihyun, however, is much too amused at Changkyun’s response to be of much help.

Minhyuk pouts at Kihyun’s lack of assistance and sticks his tongue out at Jooheon. After Kihyun calms his laughter, his hand suddenly pulls Changkyun’s chin towards him, a napkin in his other hand. Changkyun watches as Kihyun dabs at his face with a scrutinizing gaze, the napkin brushing lightly against Changkyun’s lower lip.

“There was some dry blood,” Kihyun explains in a low voice, so as not to bring the attention of the others. Changkyun stutters nervously a thank you, and Kihyun pats his shoulder with a small smile. “Don’t worry, when I was Sorted I was so nervous I tripped on my way to the table. Of course, I only raised my hands as if I won at some secret competition and took a bow before taking my seat.” Kihyun chuckles, his brown eyes clouding with a fog of memories.

Changkyun finds himself smiling as he glances at the people around him. Jooheon and Minhyuk are playfully arguing with each other, and Hoseok jokingly complains that they’re being too loud. Kihyun merely sets upon eating another piece of chicken, smiling amusedly at the goings-on around him.  There’s a warmth within Changkyun’s heart as he silently studies the lively bunch, hoping desperately that they accept him as easily as Jooheon had.