mhm yeah my British Jughead wears glasses and it's great, a very good look on him🥰 and also, if you didn't know I love everything maurauder era and so that's also heavily implied in my SECOND HARRY POTTER AU WOOOO
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Betty Cooper looked a lot like she belonged in Hufflepuff. Pretty much everyone believed that was where she'd end up at eleven as she entered Hogwarts for the first time. Well, except herself.
She'd always loved reading and studying but she was also a brave and tenacious little girl.
That's what the sorting hat had told her as she sat on the stool in front of the entire school.
And then it put her in Gryffindor.
She'd smiled wide and bounced off on her short legs to the table.
...
In the crowd, watching, was another first year, another eleven-year-old. Jughead Jones was a dark haired boy. He was tall for his age and already read at high school level.
As his dad was a wizard and his mother a muggle, she'd insisted that he attend normal school until he left for Hogwarts, and his teachers were astounded with his reading level even in kindergarten and it excelled more as he grew older. He'd started making up and writing down stories at the age of seven and had written bunches of short stories ever since.
Jughead was from a smaller family. He didn't know his grandparents on his mothers side, but the parents of his father had been around since he'd been born, and therefore he was already much invested in the magic world.
His dad had been born during the second wizarding war, around the time that Harry Potter and his friends defeated he-who-must-not-be-named.
When he watched the girl with the blonde pigtails and bright, deep green eyes bound up to the stool as her name was called he already knew that she was someone he'd know all the rest of his life.
She was pretty. Undoubtedly so. It didn't seem like the friend he'd met on the train, Archie Andrews, noticed the way he did, but Jughead knew she was just about the prettiest.
He watched her for minutes, drowning out all the noice around him as he observed her as she looked around and talked to the three other first years who had already been placed in the same house.
And then, all of a sudden, his name was called. He swallowed and walked up the steps and sat on the stool where the pretty girl had sat not ten minutes earlier.
The sorting hat was placed on his head and Jughead thought back to what his dad had said. That it didn't matter what house he got sorted into, as long as he did his best and tried for the best grades. FP had been a Gryffindor. A star quidditch player, but not the most talented academically.
Jughead, on the other hand, seemed to be one of the smartest little boys FP had ever met, according to his teachers as well, he was definitely extremely good at school, but not as much in sports. His father had wished for it, and had even signed him up for the little-league at his muggle school, but Jughead was not a soccer player. He would way rather stay at home with a book, or go swim a few laps in a pool.
The hat went on about exactly this and when it shouted out ravenclaw! Jughead felt it in himself that it was exactly right about that.
He couldn't wait to send a letter to his father later and tell him. His mother, too, would be exceptionally proud, it was from her he'd inherited his love for words, but she claimed, too, that she wasn't close to the level he already was.
Jughead grinned wide and got off the stool and ran down the steps to join his temporary family.
They gave him the complimentary pats on the back as he was the only of the first years sorted there yet.
