So this was the Great Hall, and that was the Sorting Hat, and... oh, HAAIIII MUM, and here was the line. Marcus Orion Branxton bopped along from his spot in the line, casually watching those ahead of him and watching those around him and watching... well, he was watching everyone. He was busy up in his brain pan, so when it finally came time to sit on the stool, it was almost like he hadn't waited at all.

Although he hadn't minded the wait much.

He hopped on the stool and tugged the hat down over his eyes. "Branxton? You're late, aren't you? Not as late as that sister of yours, but I was expecting you two years back."

Mo shrugged, apologized, and proceeded to mentally regale the hat with everything that had happened to him over the past two years. For some reason, the hat listened patiently, and when Mo paused for breath at around Christmas of last year, the hat burst in, "Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw."

Oh? "Why?" Mo put his hands on the brim to keep the hat from being taken from him.

"Because you thought to ask why? Because they'll accept your wanderings with open arms. Just... go on with you. The hat wouldn't say anything else after that.