The returning students and Jack climbed the steps and passed underneath the Bell Tower, its huge pendulum swinging above them, then down a hallway, and emerged into a large, quadrangular courtyard (“The Transfiguration Courtyard,” Henry supplied), the night sky twinkling overhead. A cloister ran along the perimeter, its columns twined with flowering vines that perfumed the air. In the center of the courtyard stood a sundial, its gnomon casting a long, useless shadow in the moonlight. Down the cloisters to the left, and they entered into the central hall, a vast, vaulted chamber with staircases on three sides and dominated by an enormous fountain. The centerpiece was a towering statue of a bearded wizard, water spouting from the tip of his wand, while carved magical creatures of all descriptions cavorted in the surrounding pool.

"Here’s the central hall, the fulcrum that Hogwarts spins around, that's the Fountain of Magical Brethren," Henry explained in a low voice as they approached. "Represents the unity of the wizarding world, they say. They also say the sculptor just wanted to carve a bunch of naked mermaids. Old joke." Jack snorted with repressed laughter.

As they passed through the hall and down the stairs to the right, Henry kept up a quiet running commentary, pointing out the library, the greenhouses, the stairs down to the dungeons, and different routes to classrooms. “I’ll give you a proper tour when you get sorted into Gryffindor, consider this the general visitor’s guide,” he added helpfully.

“If, not when, right?” Jack grinned. “What if the hat thinks otherwise?”

“It won’t, I can tell. You’re already a Gryffindor through and through,” Henry stated confidently. “Nobody else would have been daft enough to pick a fight with Hightower on their first day.”

An enormous portrait of a dignified wizard with a carefully groomed black beard and mustache looked dubiously down at them as they walked underneath his watchful gaze, “Place has gone to the hounds,” the portrait boomed with a self-satisfied air. “Each year they drop the standards further and further! First it was fifth-years, what could be next, accepting seventh-year transfer students? Not even enforcing basic uniformity anymore either, why back when I was Headmaster…” Then they were out into the night air again, across a towering viaduct, then another series of stairs up to the Viaduct Courtyard surrounded by massive towers, until at last, they ascended to a set of massive double doors leading into the Entrance Hall, their oak panels intricately carved with scenes of magical feasts and celebrations. Some upperclassmen ahead of them pushed the doors open to reveal the reception hall beyond. As they entered, a severe voice rang out, cutting through the chatter of the returning students.

"Mr. James Semmes! A word, if you please!"

Jack knew that tone of voice. It spelled trouble. He turned to see a tall, stern-faced witch in dark blue robes bearing down on him from the stairs, her graying hair arranged in artful curls. Cassandra Hightower hovered at her elbow, looking like a raccoon eying an open trash can.

"Deputy Headmistress Winterborn," Henry whispered in Jack's ear. "Head of Ravenclaw. What did you do to get on her bad side already?"

Jack didn't have a chance to answer. Professor Winterborn had already reached them, her sharp gaze raking over Jack critically. She was shorter than him, but her erect posture and terrifying presence added a foot to her height. Henry discreetly scooted away from Jack.

"Mr. Semmes," she said, as the other students formed a large semicircle behind him like a patchwork cyclorama. "I understand you chose to disregard our traditions and arrive with the upper years, despite Miss Hightower's explicit instructions."

Jack opened his mouth to defend himself, but Winterborn held up a hand to silence him.

"I don't want to hear excuses," she said caustically. "Hogwarts has a way of doing things, Mr. Semmes. A way that has served us well for centuries. It is not for you to question or disregard those traditions simply because you are a new boy here."

Jack quailed under her reproach, his confidence evaporating, each word driving him further into the floor like a hammer.

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"You will find that Hogwarts rewards those who respect our ways and abide by our rules, and sternly disciplines those who do not. Especially when those rules are conveyed by your fellow students. I suggest you take this lesson to heart."

With that, she pointed to the double doors beyond leading to the Great Hall proper, "You will wait there in the corner until the first-years arrive for the Sorting. Perhaps a bit of time to reflect on the importance of meekness and obedience will do you good. Miss Hightower, if you would be so kind as to escort Mr. Semmes? The rest of you, to your tables." She made a sweeping gesture, then departed through the door they had just entered, presumably to fetch the first-years from the boathouse dock.

Jack balled his fists tightly as he followed Cassandra up the stairs. Around them, students whispered and pointed, craning for a look at the idiot American transfer student. He could practically feel the triumphant satisfaction radiating off Cassandra’s face as she deposited him in the corner, his ears burning and his ego deflated.

"You just couldn't follow simple instructions, could you?" Hightower said, lecturing him like a naughty child as his future classmates trooped past. "Had to make a scene, show everyone how special you are."

Jack clenched his jaw, "My mistake," he ground out through gritted teeth. "I didn't realize I was signing up for a No-Maj chain gang by coming here."

Cassandra made a disgusted noise in the back of her throat. "Enjoy your time with the first-years, Semmes," she said, eyes glittering like amethyst. "Maybe you could learn something from them. Like humility."

With that parting shot, she spun on her heel and walked into the great hall, head held high. Jack watched her, fury burning in his gut as the rest of the students passed, murmuring and snickering. Jack set his jaw and fixed his gaze straight ahead, determined not to give them the satisfaction of seeing him squirm. He could feel the weight of their stares as the last of them passed, their judgment and gleeful schadenfreude. It was like being back in No-Maj elementary school, the weird kid that nobody wanted to sit with at lunch.

He leaned against the cold stone wall, alone in the corner of the reception hall, waiting. Four giant bronze hourglasses dominated the far side of the foyer, each bearing one of the crests of the four houses. The tops of the hourglasses were filled with respectively colored gemstones: garnet for Gryiffindor, tourmaline for Slytherin, topaz for Hufflepuff, and lapis lazuli for Ravenclaw. Their presumed purpose eluded him, probably some kind of inter-house competition.

Several agonizing minutes ticked by. The great hall through the doors behind him filled with laughter and conversation as he continued to stew and indulge in a private fantasy of pushing Hightower into the stupid lake that she was so insistent on him crossing. At last, the first-years arrived up the winding stairs from the boathouse and headed towards him, led by Professor Winterborn, huddling together in nervous, damp knots. They eyed Jack curiously, taking in his height and striking Ilvermorny uniform.

“Are you a guard?” asked a brave little boy, looking up at him with eyes as wide as saucers.

Jack glared back at him. Great. Even the little kids thought he was a freak.

“Are we all here?” Professor Winterborn said, her gaze taking over her charges, ending with a pointed look at Jack. “Very well, welcome to Hogwarts.” She opened the door dramatically,leading the gaggle of first-years (and one mortified sixth-year) into the Great Hall.

Even in Jack’s humiliated state of mind, the gothic splendor of the Great Hall was still amazing. It was smaller than he had expected, but no less impressive for it. Hundreds of candles floating beneath an enchanted ceiling that perfectly mirrored the star-studded Scottish sky outside, the four long tables lined with - by Jack’s quick estimate - about three hundred students in black robes. At the staff table on the dais, a distinguished collection of witches and wizards watched the students file in. Jack noted that the house tables seemed to have more room on the benches than the 60 or so first-years could fill, as if a portion of the student body was missing.

At the front of the hall, a shabby, patched wizard's hat sat on a stool. As Jack watched, a rip near the brim opened and the hat began to sing, extolling the virtues of the four Hogwarts houses. He listened with half an ear, too busy scanning the room to take in the words.

His gaze landed on the Gryffindor table, where Henry Ravenhurst sat surrounded by a knot of friendly-looking students. Henry caught his eye and shot him a sympathetic look, mouthing "Sorry, old sport."

Jack's answering smile was more of a grimace.

The Sorting dragged on for eternity, the hat shouting out house names as one tiny freshman after another scurried to their new tables amid cheers and applause. The precocious boy (Hitchens, Palamedes) who thought that Jack looked like a guard ended up in Gryffindor. Jack shifted from foot to foot, acutely aware of how ridiculous he must look, looming over the diminutive first-years in his blue jacket.

Finally, after "Zillmer, Hortensia" was declared a Hufflepuff, Professor Winterborn fixed Jack with a stern look.

"Semmes, James Thomas," she called, her voice ringing through the hall. "Transfer student, Ilvermorny, sixth year."