Sorting Ceremony 2020-2021

She felt sick to her stomach and also, excited at the same time. As Mandy Barlow entered the hallway that would lead her to the Great Hall, she tried to steel her nerves. She tried to remind herself of the heroine in her most recent book and to be brave like her. It wasn't working. Looking down at her newly bought robes, she smoothed down any wrinkles and puffed out her curly red hair. Her mother always told her to try and make a good impression, she hoped she would.

Mandy shuffled along with her peers, the other first years. Each one, looking just about as nervous as she felt. She heard it before the door even opened, lots of talking and laughing. Before she knew it, the doors opened wide to let the first years in, to what would be their destiny. Mandy stood on the tips of her toes, as she was small for her age, trying to peer above the others heads. She heard a deep voice of a man at the door, welcoming the first years into the room.

Mandy automatically looked up as she shook the wrinkled, but strong hand of an elderly man in shiny armor. He reminded her quite of the elderly gentleman that lives down the street, but at least this man doesn't smell like ointment. Though he does have a sickly air to him, but before Mandy could examine further, she was thrust back into line, traveling ahead. The room smelled so good, it made her tummy rumble. Indeed, looking around her, she noticed that beyond the older students, on the table were some of the most delectable food she had ever seen. Her tummy rumbled again in agreement.

Being so lost in thought over one particularly yummy-looking tart, she bumped into the first year in front of her who proceeded to say, "Hey. Watch it.", in a very loud whisper. Mandy's face grew very warm, but she crossed her arms and mumbled, "Sorry." The student gave her a glare and turned back around, at which time Mandy stuck her tongue out at them. Suddenly, the elderly mans, whom she now knew as Headmaster Solomon Leer, voice boomed out all around the room. He was letting them know that the sorting ceremony was now to begin.

Mandy knew about this and the nervous/anxious feeling bubbled up inside her all over again. Her mother had told her about this, that she had been put into Hufflepuff and how she had loved it and made some great friends there. Mandy hoped that she would make her mother proud and be put into Hufflepuff as well, even though her mother said she didn't care, as long as she was happy. Just then, she noticed an old and worn out hat, floating about the room. The sorting hat!

Before she knew it, it was Mandy's time to sit underneath that torn and worn pointed hat. Trying to exude the bravery that she wanted to feel, she threw her shoulders back, stuck her chest out and walked up those steps to the stool. The sorting hat was placed on her head and she held her breath as a voice spoke inside her head. "Ah yes, what have we here? Nervous, are we? Oh, but brave as well and a thirst to prove yourself. You are strong, yes.. Better be, GRYFFINDOR!"

The Gryffindor table boomed with cheer as a smiling Mandy made her way towards the table and maybe, her destiny?

The cacophony of voices was deafening. There was hardly any room for a person to move about between the mass of bodies, and the smell radiating off of a few of them was distinctly unfortunate.
Marshal was uncomfortable; extremely so. Generally, he had a simple love for life, enjoying the world and people surrounding him. However, when those people were clustered together in such a large number, with him right in the middle, they no longer appeared as individual people in his eyes. Instead, they became one blurred mass of panic and misery.
When he tried to move or stretch his arms out, he was met with a jab from a neighboring elbow, or a foot treading on his brand new shoes, which had been purchased by his mother for this occasion. Who knew that the purpose of footwear at this event was to get stepped on, rather than step on things themselves...
The collective noise of his fellow first-year students was enough to drown out all communication between him and his brain, with the exception of one thought: he needed to get out. He wanted to leave this place, to be out in an open field somewhere, alone; or at least back on the train. He had enjoyed that part of the journey.
Trains were a fun and unusual mode of transportation. The scenery passing by the window had been awesome, the snacks were exciting and magical, and there had only been a few other people with him in the seating compartment.
A few kids were great - he loved getting to know people - but this was ridiculous.

For what seemed like an eternity, Marshal waited with the rest of the kids in front of two great doors.
His heart rate continued to quicken, his breathing growing more shallow, and he began to wonder whether this whole thing had been a mistake.
Finally, just as he was about to break into a full-on panic and begin shoving through the crowd before running back the way they had come like a chicken with its head cut off, the giant doors swung slowly inward, and the students were told to enter.
The kids in front of him began filtering through the doorway in a line. Before long, Marshal was ushered forward, finding himself behind a tall boy with black hair.
As he moved into the new room, he tried to take in the details, but was interrupted when he felt a leathery hand grasp his own.
Eyes traveling up the intruding arm, he took in the owner's face. The man was a bit elderly, with a large beard, because of course.
Marshal studied the man's weathered face for a moment, uttering a quiet "Hi," before being shoved further into the room, leaving the man behind.

Now allowed to survey his surroundings, Marshal's jaw dropped. The room was huge. But more than that, it was rather... magical.
Most of his attention was consumed by the ceiling that looked less like a ceiling and more like the sky outside, as well as the candles floating beneath it. That couldn't be right. Candles can't fly.
Squinting, he studied the candles with all his might, yet he could not spot any strings attached.
Have to admit, that's more than a little funky, he thought to himself.
Of course he also noticed the extra number of students seated at the four long tables that occupied the room, even outnumbering the group that he had been stuck with out in the hall. But that failed to bother him. At least for now, he was here, and they were there, rather than cramping him in from all sides. And besides, his concern about large crowds had been replaced by floating candles.
The food on the tables also looked amazing, he noted.

Reaching the front of the room, he squished back into the group to await whatever was about to take place.
It was a lot easier to fight the claustrophobia now that he had finally reached his destination. Now overwhelming his panic was a sense of anticipation, accompanied by curiosity.
Once the whole group of first-years stood before the raised platform in front of the tables, the room grew rather silent.
Standing on his tiptoes and weaving his head back and forth, he tried to see what everyone else was looking at.
As he did this, he caught a glimpse of the old man from the door, now making his own way to the front. Despite his age, his presence still seemed to command full attention from everyone in the area.
When the man reached the raised platform, Marshal could finally see him and his beard in their full glory once again, his view now unimpeded.
The bearded man introduced himself as Headmaster Solomon Lear.
Marshal nodded his head and mouthed a drawn out, "Oh." He recognized that name from the invitation letter that he had read and reread so many times. So that's why he seemed to hold so much authority in this place- because he absolutely did.
The Headmaster continued on to inform them of what was about to transpire. Apparently, they were each to be sorted into one of the four houses within the school, and it had something to do with a hat reading their minds and their hearts.
Sounds a little creepy, Marshal thought. Sounded like the hat was some sort of stalker.
What a weird place.

The Headmaster's speech was interrupted when the pointed hat was placed upon a lonely stool, and it began to sing.
When that happened, Marshal ran a hand through his blond hair, and action that would have exasperated his mother, whom had spent a significant amount of time making it look just the way she thought it should.
His befuddlement was taken to a much higher level than before, and he turned to look at the dark-haired kid, who now stood to his right.
"Definitely a dream," he said with complete confidence. The kid gave him a strange, side-long glance, and Marshal held up two fingers, placed as if to indicate that he was about to pinch the guy. "Want me to wake you up?" he offered.
With the kid to his right now a couple steps farther away, he turned his attention back to the platform just in time to hear the end of the song.
Once the hat fell silent, the Headmaster produced a rolled up scroll of paper, which he then allowed to unroll. The paper fell to the ground at his feet, then continued on for quite a ways.
Glancing at the older man's face, Marshal caught a distinct look of dread, but only for a moment.
The man started calling out names one at a time. Following each one, a new student would step forward and take a seat on the stool. The talking hat would then be placed on that student's head.
As far as Marshal could tell, it said nothing until it suddenly declared the house that the kid was to be placed in, after which they would rush to their respective tables.

After enough time that Marshal started to get bored, he heard his own name ring throughout the room, almost making him jump.
"Marshal Mozor!"
Boredom quickly replaced by nerves, he strode forward, showing more confidence than he felt at that moment.
Taking a seat on the wooden stool, he gazed out across the sea of people gathered around the tables. At that moment, he distinctly wondered if it was a goal of the school's to make him as uncomfortable as possible while he sat in the spotlight.
As the hat was placed on his head, he heard words, not in his ears, but his mind. The discomfort grew.
"Let's see what we have here..." the hat began. "Ah, I see a noble heart. You'd do anything for the people you love, wouldn't you? You've certainly got plenty of compassion. And what's this? You've got enough courage to stand up for what you believe in."
In a strange way, this felt like the weirdest therapist ever. At that thought, Marshal couldn't hold back a chuckle.
"Well, you're just having a dandy time, aren't you? Well, I've seen enough." Very suddenly, the hat shouted for the whole room to hear, "Gryffindor!"
The hat was removed from his head, and he gratefully slid off the stool before making his way to the table that he had seen every other person who had been placed in Gryffindor go to.
Looking down the bench, he spotted an open seat next to a red-headed girl and took it.
As he sat down, he held a hand in front of him and examined it. Looking closely, he could see it trembling. Shaking it slightly, he turned to the girl on his left and smiled.
"Well, hello there," he said with no trace of his fading nerves, holding out the same hand that he had been examining, offering to shake. "My name is Marshal. And who might you be?"

It had seemed like many hours passed before it was finally Summer's turn.

Summer had known what to expect of Hogwarts ever since reading Hogwarts: A History, but the book itself had surprised her with its description of what the school would be like. She was expecting either something like an ordinary muggle school or something not very much like a school at all, rather more like small gatherings of people with no formal hierarchy of teachers and students, with the aesthetics of how wizards and witches were usually portrayed in muggle books and movies. It was certainly surreal to read about what Hogwarts was really like, but it was even more surreal to experience it and see it with her own eyes.

She was expecting to either be in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. She was a bit of a bookworm (that had come from her father), but she was also friendly, cheerful, and hard-working. Well, she would just have to wait and see.

"Hu-Buchanan, Summer!" She was suddenly very excited. She had been waiting so long to see what house she would be in! She made her way up to the front of the room, trying not to think about all the people who were watching her. Aside from that, the anticipation and excitement she felt almost made her dizzy.

She sat down in the chair. The hat was placed upon her head.

Well, hello child. she heard a voice say. Well, it wasn't like she actually heard it, and yet it was. Um, hello, she thought back.

Wait! Don't sort me yet! I have some questions to ask you!

I know you are a curious girl, but let it be known that as an old hat, I am the least suited to answer any of your questions... And yes, these questions you have, I can't answer. I am sorry, child.

Summer sighed mentally.

Now, let's see here. Ah, very interesting. Yes... you would do well in almost any of the Houses. You have the strength of Gryffindor, the intellectualism of Ravenclaw, the cunning of Slytherin, and the diligence and gregariousness of Hufflepuff.

The Hat was silent for a few seconds. Then it said, Hmmm... and yet, looking back through your memories, it is your strength and courage that stand out most to me. Yes, I believe you belong in...

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Summer went to the Gryffindor table and sat down. She was a little disappointed she wasn't in the same House as the girl she was talking to on the train.

Paisley moved in line with the other first-year students towards the Great Hall, collective feet scuffling and robes whooshing as hundreds of students piled in through the massive wooden doors. The girl quietly took it all in, brown eyes roaming around her surroundings before peering over the shoulder of the student in front of her for what seemed to be the thousandth time. They were edging ever closer to the entry and, suddenly, she could see a part of what was taking so long. A massive man stood just inside the door, offering an exchange of words and a pat or a handshake before ushering the youth along. Her brows rose in surprise having not expected to see someone take such steps for introduction. After all, there were a great many of them and only one of him.

They shuffled closer and closer until, finally, it was Paisley’s turn to walk through the threshold. The older man, curiously clad in armor, extended a hand, clasping her much smaller one in his palm and giving a gentle shake. “Good to have you here, my dear,” he said and she simply gave a nod. “A girl of few words, I see. Well, off with you to find a seat. We’ll begin before long,” the man stated, ushering her in and that was the end of their interaction. A whole 10 seconds before she dove into the Great Hall.

Once inside everything opened up and felt distinctly less crowded, voices bouncing and echoing off of the walls as shouts and laughter rang clear. Candles floated merrily overhead, lighting the room with a friendly glow and the Hall smelled of wood and a tad bit of damp wool. She was careful not to bump into anyone as she went, ambling toward a random table before sitting down to wait for the meeting to commence.

Scarcely 30 minutes later a hush fell over the room as the great man from before took the center of the long table at the front. He introduced himself as the Headmaster, Solomon Lear, and Paisley had to blink in surprise once or twice. She couldn’t help it, to think that such an important man of the institution would make the time that he did to personally greet each First Year. She wasn’t sure if it was kind or peculiar. In the end, it was likely both. Another craggily voice joined in and her attention was drawn to an extremely worn looking pile of wool and felt. That, she could immediately deduce, was the Sorting Hat. How interesting indeed.

Each of the house heads were introduced but the Bellweather child’s attention focused on the Ravenclaw head, Alaric. He was handsome indeed and looked to be young for his position, but in the magical world looks did prove to be deceiving. She wanted to commit him to memory, seeing as he would be her future Head of House. Her father had been a Ravenclaw, as were his parents before him, their parents, and so on and so forth. Really, she was a shoe-in. Bellweathers were all a similar bunch; academic, ambitious, mostly stoic but with an authoritative and overall gentle air. They were largely involved in academia or law and were quick to earn respect in their positions. She had a lot to live up to, especially with her ‘situation’, but she was determined to go forth in strides.

The Sorting Hat began its song and when its final note rang out, it was met with the name of the first student to be sorted. Several students shuffled up to the stool one by one, a mixture of reactions and emotions splayed across their face for all to see. Some were nervous, some were excited, some looking bored, and some…a mixture of all of the above. She wondered how many were like her, knowing what house they were destined to be in from the start. Because of this, when her name was called, her heart didn’t speed up. No, it remained quite steady as she walked her way up to the front and sat down, the Sorting Hat being plopped on top of her noggin. It felt itchy.

“Ah yes, a Bellweather. Many of you down these halls, many indeed. Ravenclaws, if memory serves. Let’s see about you now. Mmm, yes, I see wit and a thirst for knowledge. Characteristic of you lot, yes, yes. A steadfast heart, true, and much talent yet to be seen. Ooooh, what’s this? This ambition. You have a lot you want to do, a lot to prove. What are you willing to do to get there though? What indeed,” it mumbled, puttering about as it mulled. Come on, just say Ravenclaw already and get it over with, she thought quietly to herself.

“Ravenclaw you think? Hmmm…better be…SLYTHERIN,” it roared out then was immediately lifted off her head. She stood up, taking a step toward the Ravenclaw table before realizing what it had just said. She paused, her mouth open in a surprised ‘O’ before she was snapped out of it by the next student moving past her. Paisley walked toward the Slytherin table in a daze, receiving pats and cheers as she passed before finally settling at the end. Her chocolatey gaze took in the table washed with green and suddenly she felt like an outsider. This wasn’t right, but then again…the Sorting Hat never made mistakes.

Callista walked through the doors and immediately looked up at the ceiling. There were majestic paintings, many wizards and witches, long tables filled with the most food she had ever seen... but the first thing she noticed was the ceiling. In one of her school books - Hogwarts, A History, she believed - it had said that the ceiling of the Grand Hall reflected the sky... it was right. Callista was captivated. The night sky was dark blue, almost black, and littered with stars, some bright and close, some dim and far away. A few stray clouds drifted along lazily. And the moon. The moon was bright and clear, almost full but not quite. Callista then looked down and around, gaping in wonder. There were four long tables covered in food that would make quite a feast. The students at each table were adorned in different colors. Red, for Gryffindor, yellow, for Hufflepuff, blue, for Ravenclaw, and green, for Slytherin. There were large portraits on the walls, and the people depicted moved! They talked amongst themselves, sometimes even leaving their painting and visiting another! Callista felt like she was in an entirely different place. It didn’t feel like London, not at all... this was, in essence, an entirely new world.

She filed in line with the other first years. Some looked excited, some struck by wonder, some curious, a few grim-faced, but most of them looked rather nervous. Callista started to get nervous. Her stomach turned as she realized that the house she would be sorted into would be her house for life. That was... a long time. Of course, if she was rather unluckily, it wouldn’t be a long time... but still. She gulped. She listened to an older man’s words. He must be the headmaster... Professor Lear? she thought. I really hope I get into Ravenclaw... I think I’m pretty smart... I love to read too! I guess I’ll see... how are we sorted again? Oh right, through the Sorting Hat...

A while later, the headmaster called, “Lovis, Callista!” She hurried up to the chair, glad she didn’t trip. A lot of students had already been sorted, and by now most of the students looked rather bored. With each name her nervousness had grown. However, as she sat down, she found her nervousness fading, replaced with a surprisingly strong curiosity.

“Well well, what have we here? A young girl... Muggle born... interesting. I can see your wittiness and love for reading.” the Sorting Hat muttered in her head, or so it seemed.

Traits of Ravenclaw, she thought excitedly.

“Yes, yes... quite shy too, aren’t you? Ah, but I can see a small part of you that wishes for good friends, eh? You would do quite well in Ravenclaw, but there is more to you than your smarts and curiosity. You have great kindness in you, and you seem to have loyalty as well. Modest, aren’t you? Not very ambitious. Ah, you seem nervous now... the Sorting Hat continued.

Of course I’m nervous... she thought quietly. She had begun to fear that she was not going to be placed in Ravenclaw like she wanted.

“Yes, I think you would belong best in... HUFFLEPUFF!“ at the last word, the Sorting Hat seemed to shout it out into the waiting mass of students. Callista sat on the seat, frozen for a second. Hufflepuff wasn’t too bad of a house, but... shouldn’t she be in Ravenclaw? The Sorting Hat is never wrong, she reminded herself. She hurriedly got up and approached the Hufflepuff table, who were cheering for some reason. Cheer up, she scolded herself. Hufflepuff is not a bad place at all to be... they’re kind, loyal, friendly... She smiled shyly.

The Great Hall was a place to admire and be full of bewilderment upon first glance, however for Aziraphale Hemingway there was a lingering rush of adrenaline coursing through his body after the terrifying ride across the Black Lake in the boats. The ride was a nightmare, the worst possible way ever to get to school yet it was the only way that he was ever going to finish the lag of the journey to attend Hogwarts. Aziraphale couldn't help but think of his late mother, the woman who he loved with all his heart and his best friend growing up. The sinking feeling of being on the boat, the possibility that his fate might be the same as his mother felt suffocating while clinging onto the seat of the boat. Now he was on solid ground. Solid ground surrounded by other first years waiting for their names to be called and sorted into their Hogwarts house as the rest of the student body stared at them all anticipating new housemates eagerly or not.

Smiling at those around him, Aziraphale tried to just focus on where he was now instead of letting him mind linger back to where he had been. Looking about the enchanted ceiling seemed to stick out in a way. A pretty sight by far, and it had a warm welcoming element about it. This all seemed fitting, to have something like this here right now. Eventually his name was called, making his way over to the stool with the sorting hat, Aziraphale sat down and giggled when the hat was plopped onto his head. "Hello Sorting Hat."

Melissa walked with the other students to the Great Hall, where the sorting ceremony was. She was feeling nervous about it, to be honest. She really didn't want to be sorted into a house where she didn't feel like she fit in. She wanted to be in Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, just like her parents. Hufflepuff was fine too. Just not Slytherin. Melissa heard that dark wizards are usually from Slytherin. She shivered at the thought of being close to potential dark wizards. After a while of walking, they finally reached the Great Hall. Melissa went through the doors and looked around. The sight was absolutely breathtaking. There were floating candles in the sky and the longest tables Melissa had ever seen. She was nervous though. There were hundreds of kids at each table. Are they going to watch me get sorted? Melissa wondered. The thought of being watched while being sorted made her feel sick to her stomach. What if I embarrass myself?

She heard the headmaster start talking so she pushed aside her thoughts and started to listen. He was talking about Hogwarts and the rules for a while. Then, it was the sorting ceremony. Melissa waited patiently to be called. I honestly don't care what house I'm in...just not Slyth-"Carson, Melissa," the headmaster said. Melissa quickly scurried to the front of the room and sat on the stool, waiting to get sorted...

There was something about Headmaster Lear that was equal parts frightening and intriguing. It was most likely his impressive stature and how he towered over Felicia and her fellow first years. His amplified voice didn't help make him seem more inviting. Yet, despite the gruff sounding headmaster, Hogwarts was definitely a place she could make feel like home for the next 7 years. The castle was alive with magic. Obviously Felicia expected magic in the literal sense where floating candles lit the great hall and figures depicted in enchanted photos scurried across portraits to get a better view of the sorting ceremony. However she didn't expect to discover the magic that exists in subtle human interactions. As each new student was sorted into their respective house, they were all greeted with thunderous applause and jubilant cheers. The camaraderie of the older students was truly special. It made her a bit envious to see how some people had become so...close. Those connections are something she longs for most fervently. She can only hope to find people that will accept and value her to the same degree. While pondering the opportunity of finding real friendship, Solomon Lear's voice filled the Great Hall with a familiar name.


"Felicia Gatling!"

Felicia immediately snapped into form, adjusting her robes and hairpins. She had to make sure to be prim and proper before her time with the sorting hat was displayed as a spectacle for the entire school to see. She felt all of the eyes on her as her footsteps echoed through the disconcerting silence. All of the concern over which house she'd be placed was replaced with the desire to get things over with as soon as possible. She took a deep breath and mustered a composed expression as the sorting hat was placed upon her head.

"Hmmm. Why yes, it appears we have someone who's ready to get things sorted fairly quickly. Luckily, I know just the place where you will be accepted with open arms. No doubts about it. Better be...Hufflepuff."

Once again, the Hall erupted in applause. The source of which came from the Hufflepuff table. She smiled gleefully as she took her place amidst the badgers. Felicia fought as hard as she could to contain her overwhelming joy. However a few cathartic tears escaped as her new housemates welcomed her.