Gamp, Hester, had just been sorted into Slytherin. Now, it was Leif's turn. It was happening. The moment his parents spoke of. The moment his cousins bragged about. Heaney, comma, Leif was being called up to the Sorting Hat. As he looked out among the four house tables and back at the other first years yet to be sorted, he saw more than a few familiar faces. It was oddly quiet for such a large group of people, and Leif was terrified that they would notice his second-no, fourthhand clothes and the books. Leif had argued against his father for the cheapest things, wanting to save as much as possible for future years. He knew he most likely wouldn't get more years, but he desperately wanted to stay in Hogwarts.

His cousins didn't have seven siblings, like he did. Leif almost skipped over Phoenix in his head, having been used to counting only to Lawrence. Lawrence with his innate magical abilities. Lawrence with his seventh son of a seventh son-ness. Lawrence with the heirloom that was supposed to go to Leif. Leif who wasn't magically talented but wanted nothing more than to become the Minister of Magic some day. Leif who wanted to make a better world for his family, where his eight year old younger brother wouldn't have to go out and do odd jobs just to be confident.

Leif didn't care if his chances for staying a second year at Hogwarts were slim to none. He was willing to take on those odds, to push his brothers out of the way so that he could make things better in the long run, especially Lawrence, whose odds of staying were much better, especially if Leif himself was already working by the time he made it to Hogwarts.

He didn't hate his brothers. He felt a guilty sense of resentment for them, and a little for Phoenix too. If they weren't born, if she didn't live with them, his parents might've been able to afford Pennyworth like his uncle's family. Leif might be able to take his NEWTs. All he wanted to do was take his OWLs. Just make it far enough so that he might be able to get a career in the Ministry. He remembered where his parents had been sorted, felt no strong pull to any of the four houses.

Leif felt odd for that. Should he have a preference? He'd heard other first years, the ones with wealth and security and the ability to make it through all seven years at Hogwarts talking about it. One wouldn't be caught dead wearing the robes of a Gryffindor, while another swore up and down that they had to be sorted there, or they'd be the family disappointment for ages. Leif had looked at all four houses. Slytherin seemed nice enough, and had produced Merlin, a great wizard. Ravenclaw was similar. Hufflepuff also seemed nice enough, for Leif could make connections with people in higher places--even if they only saw him as a pet, it might be enough to convince someone to pay for his passage through fifth year. Gryffindor was the house he was hesitant on, though it might be good still, he thought the house had a reputation for being foolhardy, and certainly didn't want that. However, there was a quality of nobility in bravery.

Leif thought and thought. And thought some more, before he became aware that others were staring. He should sit down, really. He took his seat, to the laughter of a voice he couldn't place, and began to hope.

As the hat was placed on his head, he closed his eyes. He didn't want to see any of his cousins in their houses and think, 'my, I'd like to be in their house.' He could feel it probing around in his mind. Asking him questions he dutifully answered, wondering which house he'd find success in. Leif felt like screaming at it, to just put him in the most successful house, the one where people would look at him, specifically, and say this is a genius, or at least someone who is a good wizard.

Put me somewhere I'll be successful... was Leif's thought.