The recent revelation that Midwest millennial mayor Pete Buttigieg is a Hufflepuff (who could have seen that one coming?) got me thinking about where the Sorting Hat would place the other 2020 presidential wannabes. I would rate myself a mild Harry Potter nerd, so I am sure there are much more well-versed Potterheads out there that might take issue with some of my predictions. But I figured I’d take a stab at identifying the core traits of each of the Democrats seeking the White House.

A quick refresher on the houses for those who have chosen to ignore the most culturally pervasive (and probably significant) work of the 21st Century. There are four houses — Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. As J.K. Rowling writes: Gryffindor values courage, bravery, nerve, and chivalry. Hufflepuff values hard work, patience, justice, and loyalty. Ravenclaw values intelligence, creativity, learning, and wit. Slytherin values ambition, cunning, leadership, and resourcefulness.

As is often the case, some candidates could easily fit in two or three of these houses, so the trick is figuring out which house is the best fit. As fans of the series will know, Harry Potter would have been a good fit in Slytherin, but he wanted to be in Gryffindor so the Sorting Hat placed him where he thought he belonged. For those not fully versed in the Potter cannon, it should be noted that being sorted into Slytherin house doesn’t necessarily mean you are a power hungry xenophobe like he who shall not be named. Honestly, most politicians are probably Slytherins, since the nature of elected office requires people to be ambitious, resourceful and often times cunning.

I am not the first to take a stab at this. But, I want to be clear that I jotted down my thinking before doing a google search to see what other outlets have written. So, with that preamble, let’s dive in starting with the current front runners in the polls.

JOE BIDEN: Slytherin

This pick will probably be a little controversial. Biden has been around in politics for so long that you could probably make a case for him falling into any of the four houses. He’s demonstrated intellect in his policy positions and work in the U.S. Senate, especially on foreign policy, but he doesn’t feel like a Ravenclaw. He’s definitely displayed chivalry at times, but courage and bravery don’t seem to be the traits that drive him. He’s also been an advocate for justice and clearly believes in hard work, but these don’t seem to be what he values the most, so Hufflepuff is out.

In my experience, if you have a little bit of every house in your background, you are probably a Slytherin. Throughout his career, Biden has been a prototypical pragmatic Democrat who tends to believe the ends justify the means, so long as the ends are not so horrific that you can’t sleep at night. He clearly values ambition and likes being a leader, and these traits have been constants throughout his career.

BERNIE SANDERS: Hufflepuff

Sanders is nothing if not loyal. He’s been the most unabashadley committed to a democratic socialist society and has patiently held the line for decades waiting for the people to make their way over to his point of view. His ethos is to create what he sees as a more just society that values a more equal distribution of resources and wealth, instead of the more traditional American view of a meritocracy based system. Where many of his opponents have called for the system to be reformed so its more fair for all (but still a meritocracy), Sanders seems less concerned about upholding the value of competition. He’d rather hand out the countries collective wealth to the people through Medicare for all and free college tuition.

BETO O’ROURKE: Slytherin

This was a close call. Beto O’Rourke could easily be a Gryffindor since he clearly has nerve. But it feels like ambition drives his actions far more than courage and bravery. The other key trait he seems to demonstrate on a daily basis is resourcefulness, rolling with punches towards a singular goal of connecting and inspiring voters to be involved in a movement to — well, what exactly the movement is about is not so clear right now, but he’s confident he is the person to lead it.

ELIZABETH WARREN: Gryffindor

This decision might throw some people for a loop since Warren is clearly one of the intellectual heavyweights of the field, rolling out bold policy positions left and right and backing them up with wonky, off-the-cuff, remarks that sound less like a stump speech and more like a boardroom pitch. Warren demonstrates wit, intellect and creativity for sure — but her courage sets her apart so far in this campaign. She is not afraid to throw out a policy position that the Democratic party would have thought to be untenable even four years ago, so long as she feels it is the right thing to do. Maybe she takes these incredibly bold stances like breaking up big tech, overhauling housing policy, and paying reparations to the ancestors of slaves because she has secret polling that tells her it will help her win. It’s possible she is an Academy Award caliber actress who can convince crowds that she believes in these policies in her heart, when really it is a calculated play. For now, I am going to chalk it up to bravery and authentic conviction.

KAMALA HARRIS: Ravenclaw

Harris is not the only lawyer in the field, but she definitely is the one who feels like her law background has shaped her world view. Heck, her campaign slogan is “For The People,” a reference to her days as California Attorney General. For me, prototypical lawyers just shout out to me Ravenclaw. Sure, you could argue a lawyer may be Hufflepuff, because they value justice, and clearly Harris does. But, most of the highly successful lawyers I have interacted with tend to value intelligence and creativity more — which appears to be the case for Harris as well.

The biggest knock against Harris in this race so far has appeared to be her record as a prosecutor and as Attorney General of California, which some on the far left have ripped apart for going to easy on white collar criminals at times, and failing to uphold progressive policies on occasion. Her defense is basically, and I am definitely paraphrasing here, that she was doing her job, and it is a complex job that requires difficult choices that will piss people off because convincing a random jury of your peers of one thing is a lot harder than convincing a bunch of activists. The fact that her record reads more like a list of reasonable decisions founded in legal precedent and less like a liberal’s Christmas list of activism just furthers the point that Harris is probably a Ravenclaw.

CORY BOOKER: Gryffindor

The dude ran into a burning building to save a woman when he was mayor of Newark. Plus, he has basically made his campaign about fighting for love. He’s basically the Manchurian Gryffindor.

AMY KLOBUCHAR: Slytherin

She ate a salad with a comb. You don’t get much more resourceful than that. Though, she easily could have landed in Ravenclaw with her legal credentials and stern intellect. Plus, eating a salad with a comb is also pretty creative. I am a little torn, but I am sticking with Slytherin for her.

KIRSTEN GILLIBRAND: Gryffindor

She could definitely be a Slytherin as well. Especially when you look at her career in public service, where her policy positions “evolved” to fit the current office she holds. But, the one thing about Gillibrand’s pivots on key Democratic positions is that they have moved from point A to point B. She isn’t a flip-flopper, she is just a flipper.

In her presidential bid she has carved out bravery as the main theme of her campaign and on the trail she has seemed more authentic than she ever has been in the past. She likes to say she is running because she wants to fight for other people’s kids as hard as she fights for her children. The turn of phrase feels a little too folksy and over consulted, but she has backed it up with moments of real anger and passion when it comes to carving out a better country for her children.

As for the others — John Hickenlooper, Jay Inslee, Tulsi Gabbard, Julian Castro, John Delaney, Andrew Yang, Marianne Williamson, etc. — I need more time to probe their records before I make a bold prediction.

From this mental state, I jotted down several (mostly ridiculous) traits or inside jokes that (probably) only PICU parents, nurses or doctors will instantly understand. I have included short paragraphs explaining each item (where necessary), for those lucky enough to have never had to deal with the traumas of extended hospital stays.

The sound of your own child crying doesn’t bother you nearly as much as the sound of everyone else’s child crying.

This probably sounds crazy to many parents, but here’s the thing. When my child cries I know what’s wrong. I know he’s either in pain, pissed off, or just testing his lungs out. And, I almost always know the remedy for each instance, whether it be adjusting his position in the crib, or just giving him more attention.

When someone else in the PICU starts wailing, I am helpless. All I can do is sit there and wait for it to stop. The longer it goes on, the more you wonder, “is the kid okay?” or “are they drawing blood?” or “should I say a prayer for them?”

The doctors start rounds without your nurse because, you know, you are there.

So, each morning the doctors and nurses who are caring for your child meet to do “rounds,” which is basically a meeting to recap of your child’s health history and set a game plan for the day ahead. Almost always, the full crew is accounted for before they begin, but after you’ve been in the PICU for like a month or so they can get lax on this as the nurse tends to the patient next door, or a doctor steps away to make sure an order has gone in for medication for the kid down the hall.

Luckily my wife and I can generally rip through our son’s medical history more efficiently than the nurse or resident, or at least correct the record if they forget something or get something wrong.

You get excited for the hospitals “code” announcements.

I have to admit that many of these are horrible things you don’t want to hear. Like, “Code Stroke, 7th floor, surgery.” Or, “code Amber, PICU Emergency Room.” But, while these announcements fly over the head of most people, for a PICU parent its like hearing a new story in an abbreviated announcement. Your head starts spinning with, “I wonder if a surgery patient had the stroke, or if it was a family member?” Or you start joking with the nurse about babies being stolen from the ER.

Doctors greet you with “you are still here?”

Internal response: Yes asshole! I am not happy about it.

External response: Yeah. He’s been doing better though. Hopefully not much longer.

The transport team asks you if you work “in the field” after you close the blinds when they walk in.

My son is notoriously a “hard stick.” Which basically means finding a vein to put an IV in is really difficult and it requires specialized teams called “transport” who go from place to place throughout the facility putting in IVs or drawing blood. In order to do the job they use fancy lights that find veins, but also need as much darkness as possible to be effective.

My son has had dozens of IVs at this point, so I have a pretty good routine down for when the transport team comes that includes closing the blinds, telling them he is a “hard stick” and then running through the most recent history of successes and failures in his arms and legs.

A new parent to the PICU asks a nurse in the hallway which channel ESPN is… and you answer for her.

Yeah the nurses have no clue what the TV channels are. They are way too busy.

You instantly realize the 7th loudest sound at the moment is the alarm for your child’s feeds.

The PICU can get loud. Crying kids. Conversations with nurses and doctors. Parents on the phone. Alarms blaring from desatting patients (this is when a child’s oxygen level drops to usually below 90 percent, though you can set the alarm to trigger at any point.

While some of the alarms are really loud, others are not. Our son has a feeding tube in his stomach, so he is fed via a machine that slowly pushes food into his belly. The alarm for this machine is not loud at all, yet the second it goes off I immediately jump up. This could be in part because hitting restart on the feeds is one of the things nurses really don’t mind you doing as a PICU parent. So, at least you feel a little bit useful.

When you are grabbing coffee in the family lounge and a new PICU parent asks you what your child’s name is… and you immediately say his full name and date of birth.

Hospital protocol is for nurses and respiratory therapists to ask you to recite your child’s name and birthday before they give him medication. It’s kind of ridiculous when the nurse is your Facebook friend because, you know, you have been here for so long. But, the abundance of caution is better than the alternative.

Nurse asks you if you want to meet a professional athlete visiting the floor and you respond, “Nah… I met him a few months ago.”

It is great that professional athletes come visit sick kids, but my kid would just glare at them with a dubious look like, “Are you here to poke me with a needle? You look like the type of person who would poke me with a needle. I don’t trust you.” (My son’s facial expressions speak volumes)