A/N: So, this is unlike anything I've written previously. I'm generally a Dramione writer, but I keep seeing these ridiculous, hilarious Tweets and Tumblr posts about what Muggle-borns would have been like at Hogwarts and the endless Dumbledore-as-a-disaster-of-a-headmaster-and-generally-profane comics and posts soooo I decided to work that into this story. It's based on an OC who is a First Year the year after the Battle of Hogwarts. Somethings that are non-canon include a Weasley professor, a deceased character who comes back as a ghost who is the tumblr-version of themselves, not the Rowling-version. I'm not sure how often I'll update, it'll sort of depend on the responses, but I think this could be a fun piece to work on.

"So… We just walk through it?"

"I guess?"

"It looks awfully solid."

"It does."

"Maybe we can just ease through it? Maybe try putting a hand through or somethi-"

A woman in a fuschia cloak runs at the brick wall with a young girl and trolley and disappears into the bricks.

"Huh. I guess it works."

HPHPHPHP

A ghost with a long beard and half-moon glasses perched on the tip of its nose is leaning against the wall. Strange, since the other ghosts were passing through the walls easily. Perhaps the ghost just wanted to appear as though it was leaning and simply posed that way? Certainly seemed like a lot of work to look nonchalant.

"Ah, the new students," the ghost comments cheerfully. "You'll enjoy the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Not who I would have chosen, but there's no accounting for taste."

A tall, lean wizard stops next to the ghost and narrows his eyes. "Really? Really, Professor? You hired a man who had Voldemort on the back of his head, a flagrant liar who is now in Saint Mungo's for life, a woman who tortured students for detention, a Death Eater, a second Death Eater, who killed you I might add, and a werewolf, and the werewolf was the best of the bunch! Now you're going to question their choice of me?"

My jaw drops open and my eyes go wide. What kind of school is this?

The bearded ghost gives a withering look to the red-haired man. "Well you learned well enough from my professors to become one yourself, didn't you, Mr. Weasley?"

The red-haired man rolls his eyes. "It's Professor now, Professor. And yes, I learned. I learned a lot. Luckily, I obtained most of my schooling prior to Harry Potter's arrival and was able to have a relatively uninterrupted education. I also had the pleasure to learn under the tutelage of the real Alastor Moody."

"He was a wonderful professor here," the ghost says with a sigh.

"He was never a professor here. He spent a year in a trunk whilst a Death Eater plucked out nearly half of his hair for Polyjuice Potion."

My eyes widen some more.

"Yes, yes, but still. The children learned."

I snort. I can't help it.

The ghost and professor turn to look at me and I blush, turning back to the gaggle of students waiting to enter the big doors.

"Right. Sorting." Professor Weasley walks to the doors and gestures for all of us first years to shush.

Then, the doors open.

HPHPHPHPHP

Welcome, welcome students new

I have a brand new song for you

Here at Hogwarts you will see

The Houses in which you all will be

Gryffindor for the brave and proud

A tight knit group and oh so loud

Ravenclaw for the curious who

Are wiser than the rest of you

Slytherin that quick and cunning team

They climb so high, they're rarely seen

Hufflepuff is for students, all

So honest, kind, and on the ball

The houses are for points and games,

They'll give you pride, yes! Rarely shame

Do not divide yourselves by house

You all wear the same pants and blouse

So unite as one and you will see

How wonderful life at Hogwarts can be.

"Bloody awful, that was," says a student seated at one of the tables.

"I heard the old hat took a rather nasty spell. Dumbledore's been telling everyone that the hat went batty. Guess it's true," says another.

"Wonder if that hat will start spitting out Founder heirlooms instead of saying the names," the first student chuckles.

I turn to the boy behind me.

"Do we have to put that old hat on?"

"Of course you do," the boy grunts. "It's the Sorting Hat. How else will you know what house you belong in?"

"But what if it has lice? Also, doesn't dividing us into different houses force us to identify as smart or brave or cunning or just...miscellaneous? Wouldn't it be better to let us figure out our strengths on our own?"

The boy grunts again and turns away. I stare at the hat again and shudder. My mother is a primary school teacher and I've seen lice outbreaks. Flashbacks of ultra-fine combs and the search for nits flitted through my memory. I shudder again.

"Angelthorpe, Charlotte!" The red headed professor is reading from an old-timey looking parchment and I jump when he shouts my name.

"Yes?"

The boy from before shoves me towards the stool and the ratty old hat. I shuffle up and try not to grimace as the hat descends onto my head.

"Ah, what do we have here," the Hat says, not making this at all less uncomfortable. "A half-blood with a lot of drive, shame you're not pure enough for those picky ickle snakes."

I glance over and see some insulted looking students at the table with the snake badges. I wondered what the hat meant by "half-blood".

"Ooh, smart, yes. But are you smart enough for Ravenclaw? Probably not. You're not that exceptional."

The students at the table with eagle badges look smug. Pricks.

"You're not quite bland enough for Hufflepuff, so I guess it'll have to be GRYFFINDOR!"

The table just in front me with the lions on their chests cheer and welcome me into one of the free spots near the end of the table.

I wasn't entirely certain, but I was quite sure that barmy old hat had insulted me, rather gravely.

The sorting went rather quickly with a seemingly equal number of boys and girls going to each house. Secretly, I wondered what would happen if every first year had been cunning, or if all of them had been nerdy. Would they all be sorted by their secondary leanings to keep the houses equal?

The older lady, Professor MacGoogle or something, was giving a speech, but I couldn't stop looking around the Great Hall. Ghosts were hanging out in the middle of tables and you could tell who else wasn't from magical families because they were glancing over nervously and waiting for some seriously spooky stuff to happen. There were candles just floating in the sky. I wondered if I could emulate that in my bedroom with some fishing line and LED candles. I also wondered if the wax would drip on us. That didn't sound pleasant, but I assumed it would be taken care of because, you know, magic.

Next thing I know, the headmistress is clapping and this feast just appears out of nowhere. I jump back because, hello? Food just appeared. Out of nowhere. But everyone else is just like "cheers, mate!" and digs in. I poke at a turkey leg with my fork before being satisfied that it's real and not some sort of bizarre hologram.

Slowly, carefully, I take a bite.

It's good. Really, really good.

I rip into the feast like my parents have been starving me for the past decade, not giving a rat's tail about whether or not I look cool. This food is good, this food is magic, and it KEEPS. REAPPEARING.

I love magic.