Mike sat on the stool, the sorting hat- he refused to give that thing capital letters- was on his head, its large brim hiding his eyes. He could hear-was it hearing if it was in his head- the hat speaking-thinking- to him.

Not the brightest are you… Plenty of courage, though.

Mike thought of the job he had held prior to ending up where he was. Of course he was courageous.

Reckless and suicidal is probably more accurate. Not adverse to hard work, but you do not enjoy it.

Mike thought that no sane person would enjoy hard work.

You are not exactly in the best position to make aspersions upon others' sanity. You lack both ambition and cunning.

Mike thought idly that staying alive did count as ambition.

You lack curiosity about anything relevant. It is clear to me now… You belong in…

"Gryffindor!"

Mike handed the ego-killing hat to the Scottish teacher and sauntered his way to the clapping table. He slung his leg over the bench and set his backpack down next to him, carefully placing a large, black, square box with a lid on top of the bag. Mike vaguely listened to the Gandalf-look-alike that talked for a bit before food appeared on the tables. He blinked. Mike decided that magic would explain the sudden appearance of food.

He glanced around and was slightly disappointed to find that pizza and coke were not on the menu. Mike instead grabbed some of a nearby chicken and some water. To his dismay, the chicken would have to be eaten without ketchup.

"So, mate, what's in the box?" Asked a redhead teen. Mike sized up the older teen.

"A shipment of meth from Canada" Mike answered sarcastically. The redhead and his twin across the table laughed.

"But, no, seriously, what's with the box?"

"Company policy states that I am not allowed to answer that question." Mike responded dully. The people within earshot started whispering, but Mike ignored them.

The rest of the meal was uneventful. Mike tuned out a short, plump woman in pink babbling on about progress by wondering what was happening with Jeremy. He felt a slight twinge of guilt at having to leave the poor guy with all the work at the pizzeria. Mike resolved to make it up to his coworker over the summer.

The walk to the dorms was long and mostly upstairs. Mike quickly found the boys' dorm for his year and entered- into an argument.

"What about you?" Someone demanded of Mike.

"What about me?"

"Do you believe him? That You-Know-Who is back?" Someone else pressed.

"Believe who about what?" Mike said blankly. He just wanted to sleep. Jet lag was making it hard to blink without wanting to shut his eyes.

"Never mind. I'm going to sleep." Mike said as the first boy went to start an explanation. Mike pulled a music box out of his backpack and wound it. The soft chimes filled the air. Mike lay down on his bed and was promptly asleep.