This was it, the big day. Being sorted seemed to stick with everyone the rest of their lives. Bertie couldn't help but be nervous. What if he didn't like his house? Did he really want to be in the same house as either of his siblings? Gertrude seems far too worried about her grades right now, and Bertie wasn't too sure if he wanted to hear about that every time he came back into the common room.

At this moment, he couldn't help but wonder what all of those other children in Egypt were doing right now. He couldn't quite recall what type of schooling they had. Were they sorted? Oh, was that his name? Oof, when was the last time someone had called him Egbert? Probably..., Bertie looked over at Billie. It had been when his mother was calling out to him after he'd run out of the store. And when he was in the tree about fifteen minutes later. He made a face as though having bitten into a particularly sour lemon, before huffing quietly and trying to look neutral once more as he went over to the hat.

It couldn't have taken very long for all of that too happen, as the teacher didn't seem to look too impatient as to how long it had taken him to come up. "It's actually Bertie." He mumbled sheepishly as he sat on the stool. For how often he was actually called Bertie, one would think that his parents should have just named him that.