When Harry arrived, breathless, he found Hermione and Ron already waiting for him. Both looked about as confused as he felt, and both were clutching a familiar piece of parchment. "Did you…?"

Hermione nodded. "Get the letter from Professor McGonagall? Yes, we did."

"And yours…?"

Ron flattened his out. "Dear Mr. Weasley, please come to sorting, nothing urgent, etc. Nothing urgent…"

"…and yet we're all here early. Are you sure nothing's wrong? Ginny was out of her mind, convinced that the school had imploded or something."

"I've always said that she'd be crazy while preggers, I have."

"Ron, you've thought of your sister pregnant?"

"Well…"

"With whom?" Harry looked amused, for Ron was beet red.

"That's not what I meant!"

"Hermione, Ron, Harry. Thank you for coming." The curt voice of McGonagall cut through instantly, and all three turned around, guilty for some unfathomable reason. "Please, follow me."

While following, Hermione muttered, "My heart completely stopped for a second there."

Harry chuckled. "The first words out of my mouth…"

"…we didn't do it," Harry and Ron chorused.

Hermione shook her head, raising her voice to ask, "Professor McGonagall, is there anything wrong? Can we help?" ("No," mouthed Harry and Ron)

"Minerva, Hermione, as I've said countless times before. Trust me, there is nothing wrong."

All three of them sat uncomfortably at the teacher's table. Almost immediately, there was a flurry of whispers and not-so-subtly-pointed fingers.

Harry blushed, Ron grinned, and Hermione rolled her eyes. Boys.

An unknown professor ushered the little first years in, and all the voices died down. Hermione clutched Harry's fingers and leant into Ron's shoulder. "There's so…"

Harry nodded. "There's so many, aren't there?"

"So many more, you mean," Ron said, frowning.

Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, unfurling a sheet of parchment. She glanced towards the three of them, an odd smile on her face, and then went back to the list. "When I call your name, you will come up and try the Sorting Hat.

"Burns, Harry."

A young boy with mousy brown hair ran forward, jamming the hat on his head.

Hermione turned to Harry. "You don't think…?"

For once, neither Harry nor Ron had an inkling of what Hermione meant. "What?"

She shook her head. "Never mind."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Ravenclaw was applauding, the Headmaster was continuing. "Cook, Harry."

Another young boy went up, and Harry fell silent. Hermione had a wry smile on her face. "I think so…"

Harry didn't even want to think.

"Fennel, Harry."

"Um…"

Ron and Hermione were in silent hysterics, until…

"Hingley, Hermione."

"Johnston, Ronald."

"Ha!"