Sorting Ceremony 2019-2020 Archived

Kaegan stared indifferently at the flocks of other students, some happy to get their Sortings and others looking purely devastated. He already knew he would be a Slytherin, like his late mother and current father before him. Of course, three older, elitist siblings ahead of him, already in the familial house, closed his case. Being in another house would be fine, he mused, as long as it got him away from everybody... else.

Of course, he would rather die than be a Hufflepuff. Everyone there was too friendly, too chirpy, a bit unsettling to say the least. He noticed the way they welcomed newcomers, with wide-open arms and big smiles, like they were happy for a random little boy or girl to sit awkwardly at the edge of their table. Kaegan squinted closer, determined to see through their act.

The headmaster's low voice rattled the Great Hall, snapping the dark-haired boy from his thoughts and back down to Earth. "Kaegan Chase!"

He stood up with an air of disdain, dark green eyes boring into the wood of the small stool presented in front of Hogwarts' student body. There had been quite a few overweight students that had almost snapped the flimsy little legs of that thing, resulting in a raised eyebrow from the boy, but nothing more.

Approaching the seat warily, he tried not to make a face of disgust as the hat was nestled firmly onto his skull, the crinkling brown leather finding a comfortable position before its age-worn voice began to worm its way into Kaegan's head.

Oh, another Chase? I had no doubt there would be more.
Of course, people such as you don't come in scarce numbers. How many of you are there now? Five?
I'm not surprised. Five is the lucky number.
Let me take a closer look at you- not like your siblings, I can tell.
Did something happen? The death of your mother? What a shame.
I remember her.

Kaegan gripped the stool, his knuckles turning white with the strain. "Godammit, just sort me already, you piece of leather," he snapped quietly, leveling a cold glare out to the audience. The hat took its time before it spoke again. Its crackling voice let out a low, dry wheeze that faintly resembled a chuckle.

Impatience? That's not a Chase trait. What will we do about you?
You have something buried deep down, Kaegan, I can tell.
You may act like it, but you are not a fit for Slytherin.
Smart, but not in the way of a Ravenclaw.
Loyal to those you love, but no Hufflepuff.
Which leaves...

Kaegan almost choked. The caustic, sarcastic boy in the chair, one who rarely laughed at anything and spoke only if it was an insult or a retort, the painfully smart 11-year old, wise beyond his years with a silver tongue and white-hot remarks, no he could not possibly be in-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

He uneasily staggered off the stool, watching with blazing eyes as the Gryffindor table burst into hearty applause, his torturous walk there accompanied with jovial smiles and claps on the back. With much effort, Kaegan found a way to push his conflicted feelings off his face. The dark-haired boy quickly found a spot with few people sitting there, making a point of not greeting anyone. They didn't deserve his time or energy, and they would dislike him, it was clear.

He was obviously in the wrong place.

Kaegan tilted his head high, turning up his nose at his new housemates, and furiously began to scrutinize every process of the Sorting, avoiding talking with no ounce of subtlety.

Too late to complain.

I was anxious. I didn't know the school because I'm American not English even if I live in London. There is only 3 months that I live in this Country with my sister Jenna, her boyfriend who is also my best friend Jared and their three children Jordan, Joshua and Jiliane. Why did I quit everything I know and I love to came here ? Because this was the last wish of my mom before she passed away three years ago. She juste told me that she was in a house named Hufflepuff or a thing like that. So I was anxious to discover this world, the English version of the wizarding world because is not the same to the American one.

I heared my name so I came to the seat and I wait that someone pull the sorting hat on my head. 
"Oh you're not like your mother, she was generous, a really good woman. But it's different with you... I see a lot of cunning, a passion for fight and for provocate other people. You will be perfet in... SLYTHERIN !"

Slytherin ? What is this house ? I look at the hall and I walked over to the table that cheered me the most, then I sat on a bench and watched the rest of the rehearsal in silence, not knowing that they were the value of my home.

Natalia shuffles her feet as she waits in line, slowly swaying back and forth as she puts her weight on the balls of her feet, to her heels, her black robe billowing around her as she does. The bustling din fades away as her eyes focus on the shoulders of the student in front of her, squints in an attempt to count every brown lock of hair before deciding against the task not five seconds later. The hat calls out a name, the line shuffles forward, and she repeats her swaying as her eyes roam the Great Hall.

The ceiling is high—higher than she'd be able to reach on her tiptoes, and then some. The candles form a canopy of warm, burning light overhead, and in the spaces between flickering clumps, the roof gives way to the glimmering sky, unfurling before her very eyes. Her fingers twitch twice, the temptation to reach out spiraling like water around her wrist, but she clenches them at the last second to keep them by her side. Alice had told her, once, that it's rude to reach for things. She's lived by it ever since.

Another name is called, and Natalia takes another step forward, startling somewhat when she looks up and discovers that the young boy is no longer there. Her confused gaze sweeps through the sides of the Great Hall until it lands on the stool at the front; the boy is there, looking anxious as the floppy hat likely murmurs into his ears, and she wrings her fingers together as the tiniest flutter of worry settles in the back of her throat.

All of her sisters had gone to Beauxbatons. It had been their mother's alma mater, but by the time Natalia had been born, they'd moved back to Wales; Cain is the only Hogwarts alumnus of the five Pendragon siblings, but she hasn't seen him since she was seven, since he became an Auror, since he was reported for a crime they claimed he'd committed and ran from Europe altogether. Of course, there's always Norman Pendragon himself, but the last time she'd asked him what to expect, he'd smiled and told her that he'd have to Obliviate her if he told her—it was a joke, of course, and he'd laughed himself to tears after a fraction of a second, but Natalia took it as a warning anyway and never asked again.

A finger poking into her spine jostles her out of her thoughts, and she looks up to see the stool empty and expectant of its new initiate. With an apologetic smile thrown over her shoulder to the first year that had brought her back to the present, Natalia clasps both hands together and closes the distance between herself and the Sorting Hat, taking a seat on the waiting chair and letting the magical artifact drop on top of her head.

"Ah, my second favorite Pendragon," the voice announces into her ear. She stills at the comment, skin chilling at the reminder that her brother had been in her exact spot many years before—her fingers tighten on her lap and she nods her head subtly, acknowledging his familiarity. "Third is your brother, of course, the rascal that he is, but your father was quite the image in his youth. Friendly. Brave. Charismatic. On his first day, he'd convinced half of his year that all of their owls are Animagi."

She stifles an amused snort behind her wrist, feeling the panic begin to ebb away from her shoulders.

"You are nothing like him."

Natalia's smile promptly vanishes, and her hand falls back to her lap as the words continue to ring in her ears. "You're very quiet and unassuming—but they made you like that, didn't they? Yes, I can see this now. There were too many of them, and only one of you, and you put yourself behind them because you believed it was something you should do," he went on, and she nodded so subtly that, if he hadn't been on her head, he would've never noticed her move at all. "Not that it didn't work in your favor, did it?"

Something ugly shivers down her spine, and she's forced to mutely nod—the Sorting Hat knows what she'd done and how she did it, and she wonders if he will present the truth before the Headmaster and let her carted off to the Ministry, but instead, his deep, booming laughter vibrates against her ears, and she feels him shuffle around her head, as if he's giving her a reassuring pat... if a hat had arms. 

"I am not here to do that, child, I am here to decide on your House," he offers carefully, and once he's sure she's settled, he continues with his judgement. "Cunning of you to do what you did. Clever. I would say you'd do well in Slytherin, like your father did before you, but I doubt it would do you justice as it did him. No. I believe your wit can develop better somewhere else." From the words, Natalia thinks she can already tell where she's headed. Her eyes wander to the table wreathed in blue and bronze, and the Sorting Hat gives a snort. "Thinking ahead already. Without a doubt, lady Pendragon, you would do best in RAVENCLAW."

The polite applause fades away as she gets back on her feet and gives the hat one last, curious look before wandering over to the Ravenclaw table. Had he meant to put her into the same house her brother had been in? Knowing, especially, what she had done for him? She shivers before hiding her worry with a small, quiet smile.

Philip's heart rate immediately quickened as he walked into the Great Hall with the rest of the first years. He looked around in awe as he realized all the stories his aunt Patricia had told him barely did Hogwarts justice. There was this light, friendly atmosphere as soon as he stepped foot inside.
He felt like he was floating like the candles he was gazing at. He was so mesmerized that he actually bumped into a couple students in front of him. After he apologized profusely, he tried his best to concentrate on what the Headmaster was saying but how could anyone focus on just one thing when there was so much to look at?
He was sure he missed something so he focused on the others being called forward and felt an all too familiar and uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Not now. Come on Philip, stay calm. You've got this!

He took a couple deep breathes like his mother showed him. She was always there to calm him down but he had to face his anxieties alone. He knew what he had to do. He could do this.
But now he was thinking of his mother, which made him think of his aunt and he tried desperately to remember the name of her house or the house his grandmother and grandfather were in but nothing came to mind.

He closed his eyes and counted to ten. He slowly opened them. Another student was called forward and he watched as they walked up and sat on the stool. He only just noticed the funny hat that was being placed on the students head. He tried to remember the tales his aunt had told him but he didn't remember any of them mentioning a hat. How did he miss that?
He shook his head and focused on his breathing again. He had a feeling his name would be called soon.

"Philip O'Brien."

And there it was. He walked up the steps carefully, eyeing the Headmaster who towered over him and sat on the stool. What remained of the large group of fist years gazed at him in curiosity. The hat was placed on top of his head and he could have sworn he felt the hat move.

"Ah, O'Brien, yes, this will be quite easy."
He jumped at the sudden voice.
"Almost too easy...I sense the loyalty in you, what a kind heart, yet there is that twist of intelligence within you. It could go either way but I know where you belong..."
Philip held his breath.

"Hufflepuff!"

He couldn't help but grin at the sound of immense cheering as he walked towards the table. He felt such relief as he sat down.
Hufflepuff! He was in Hufflepuff! His grandmother had been in Hufflepuff as well! Now he remembered.
This whole experience had been quite bizarre for him up til now but this homey feeling he felt being surrounded by the other students in Hufflepuff put his mind at ease.
Still he couldn't quite shake the dull pain of being homesick.
He hoped it would get better over time.

Walking through the front doors into the massive building was a grand experience. The warmth hit Madeline which was a welcomed sensation after floating along the cool lake surface. It took a moment to take in her surroundings, as the first years are herded through the entrance hall, to a tall, large arc with doors propped open. Passing priceless looking suits of armor that she swear turned to look at her, she entered only to be greeted by a man wearing... armor as well. She silently curtsied to him and hurried along, taking a side-glance back at him as she got into line. All of the heads of houses look respectable as he introduced them. Madeline took a moment and glance at her peers. They either look excited or terrified. Was their house that big of a deal? Since she wasn't from around here, her knowledge was limited right now, which she hated. Madeline started getting nervous. Her mother said that Slytherin was the house to be in with plenty of respectable pure-bloods. The head of Slytherin was striking and intimidating. So was Gryffindor's. Madeline wouldn't mind being taught by her either.

A song had started from somewhere. Finally, Madeline tore her eyes away from the table and her eyes rested on a simple wooden stool with a filthy, worn, obviously ancient hat. It was singing a song and Madeline patiently listened and watched it with amusement. Father always brought home interesting magical items, but usually, they had dark magic inside. This one seemed... friendly? Then the song ended, the man in armor stood to attention, and started calling names alphabetically from last names. It wouldn't take long to get to 'Doe'. Nervously, she watched as students got up on the stool and quickly the hat would shout out a house. Immediately after each reveal followed a look of pure happiness, shock, or smugness.

"Doe, Madeline!" She took a deep breath, straightened up, and walked forward gracefully and with a look that hopefully resembled confidence. Headmaster Lear lifted the hat, and Madeline spun gently in place and sat down. The hat was lower onto her head and immediately fell over her eyes. She felt a bit goofy, imagining what she must look like. She was suddenly aware of how quiet it was.

"So, we have a stranger to these lands!" A voice boomed making Madeline jump. "Very strong and intelligent. Quick to attack before others-" Madeline cringed knowing what he was referring to. "Protective of the ones you love like brave Gryffindor! Though, insatiable hunger for knowledge... But no, no, not just book smarts but you have great cunning and desire to be the best at whatever you do. Even if you have to make some... questionable ways to do it. Not quite your parents, but on your own journey to find true friends and the truth. To find the answers you seek, I know you must aim as high as possible. A witch of great ambition, and loyalty to true friends, if you let them get close enough. Yes... I think you'll be in.."

It roared into the great hall, and the hat was lifted swiftly off her head. Madeline sat in a daze for a moment, as cheers erupted in the hall, especially from the green-clad table. No one had ever cheered her like this. If felt amazing. Madeline's cheeks and ears burned as she hopped off the stool and quickly walked over to the table, her eyes wide with surprise and a smile plastered to her face. A warmth in her chest... pride. She slipped between two others and took some steadying breath and wiped the goofy smile off her face for a more restrained, soft one.

For what fell like an eternity, Evelynn had awaited out in some sort of alcove to the side of the front entrance hall. She didn't entirely mind; it allowed her the opportunity to take it all in. When she had been told she had been accepted to Hogwarts, she had thought she had misheard. Then she had thought her mother playing a game on her. Many young boys and girls imagine what it would be like to be realized as different. To be validated as to why they seemed to struggle to fit in with their peers. They envision a day where their very own Professor X comes to inform them of some latent ability stowed deep within their psyche and request to whisk them away to an institute for the gifted where their talents could be polished.....But never in her wildest dreams did Evelynn think such an occurrence would ever actually happen.

Yet here she was. Dressed in a simple robe of black, she was one among many. Twenty...Thirty...She had tried to do a head count at one point, but it seemed many of the more comfortable students were darting here and there. Sometimes she would count one, only to count them again, or realize midway through that she had missed someone from the pool of those she had counted. If she had to estimate, she would guess at least fifty stood there with her. But as for an exact count, she had long ago given up on the task, instead turning her attention to more interesting---

Brows raised near to losing themselves amidst her fringe as she watched, in obvious disbelief, as a translucent..being, for there was no other way to put it...floated casually from a hall opposite them, turned at the center of the entrance hall and coasted towards the--no through--the very doors to what she had been informed was the Great Hall. Was that...a ghost? Ghosts were real as well? Parched lips parted, barely containing the thousands of questions that had just bubbled to the surface of her thoughts. A glance to the right and left revealed that most of the others there either had not seen what she had seen, or seemed not to care. For a moment, she worried it was all in her own head, until she saw a couple other faces mirroring what she could only assume was her only expression.

"It is time."

Evelynn's attention snapped to the source of the proclamation, and immediately she could feel the butterflies in her stomach. She had a vague idea of what was about to happen. They didn't have this sort of thing where she was born, but the private schools in England often had Houses that students would be sorted into in some fashion. And this, from what had been explained, was the Sorting Ceremony. Soon, the doors parted; and seemingly of their own accord, as Evelynn could see no one pulling them open. The entirety of the hall seemed to reverberate with that same excitement and fresh energy that every school and student seemed to possess at the start of a new term. But as the doors arced wide, and Evelynn and her peers were ushered within, a great hush fell over the Hall.

She wondered how the process would proceed. Part of her wondered, at the very least. A great portion more became thoroughly enchanted and engrossed with taking in every possible aspect of the hall. With contained awe, she noted the candles hovering above the long tables lining the length of the hall. A boy next to her ducked. She glanced over to see why...just in time to catch the eye of a rather fearful looking old man in plate armor.

"H-hello..." Evelynn stammered in surprise, shaking his hand before hurrying forward, envious that she hadn't been able to dodge the encounter like the boy had.

Above, much like the planetarium back home, the enchanted ceiling depicted the night sky. She caught a glance of the floating phantom engaged in animated conversation with what appeared to be an older student at a table with a red runner. Every portrait contained several muses, many of whom appeared not to belong in the frame in which they lingered. They, too, conversed in rapid, hushed tones.

A step, and then another. For every face that flashed briefly by, Evelynn's breath grew that much more shallow. For each every whispered comment she couldn't quite catch, Evelynn's throat grew that much more parched. For all the grandeur and magical obscurity blatantly compounding that everything she thought she knew up to now had been a half-truth, Evelynn's heart raced that much faster. Until eventually, they stopped.

In a loose grouping, she stood one among many at the forefront of the hall. She craned her neck, but couldn't quite see over the taller students ahead of her. She could vaguely make out the staff members at the head table, however, and although she couldn't quite make eye contact, she offered Professor Bercegeay a shy smile, and took heart in knowing that there was someone familiar, at least.

"Is that him?" Evelynn heard one student whisper to another nearby.

"Aye, that's Professor Lear," came the reply. "He's the headmaster."

Curious, Evelynn forced herself to ignore -- for now -- the fascinating sights all around, and managed to squirm her way through a couple of students next to her to obtain a more advantageous position. And blinked. It would seem all forms of expectation would need be left at the door, for he who rose to speak was the very same aging man wearing a suit of armor that had been greeting the students at the doors to the Great Hall. As much as she wondered why, for it seemed a silly and uncomfortable thing indeed to wear to an opening event such as this, she pushed such notions aside in favour of that which he had to say.

Not long after, she found her attention redirected to a hat -- The Sorting Hat, as Professor Lear had indicated -- she once again just had so many questions. Later, she would remind herself, regularly refocusing her attention as the headmaster continued his explanation of the process. Hufflepuff. Ravenclaw. Gryffindor. Slytherin. These, at least, were not unfamiliar to her. Although she had only the summer to reconcile this new-found knowledge of an alternate reality, she had been more than eager to explore once the door had been unlocked. The moment she had returned home from Diagon Alley with her school books, she had dove into them. Hogwarts: A History had been particularly interesting, she had found, and had served her well to prepare for this day.

In theory, anyway. An the moment, she found herself quite a bit more overwhelmed than she had hoped and could hardly recall a thing. Was it Gryffindor that were loyal? Ravenclaw she knew cunning and wise. The raven made it easy to remember that. Slytherin were the snakes. She quite liked snakes, and had remembered reading a passage once, indicating that Merlin had been a Slytherin graduate. That had been a surprise. She adored the tales of King Arthur, and although her mother never really approved, she liked to sneak episodes of Merlin when her mother was at work.

It was at the height of her tangential thought that the hat began to sing its song, and once more, Evelynn found herself snapped back to this unusual reality. The corners of her lips curled in the hint of a smile as the hat sang. For some reason, this seemed to serve as a sort of buffer to the rest of the magical exposure. Something so silly, and fun. The knots roiling in her stomach lessened. Her shoulders relaxed. Her smile grew just a little bit bigger. Gradually, the nerves Evelynn felt turned to excitement; and as the Sorting Hat neared the conclusion of its song, she could hardly wait to find out where she would be placed.

Quietly, like a little statue, she listened as name after name was called forward, and watched as student after student traipsed up to sit themselves upon the stood. It was an obscure sight, to be sure, to see a worn old hat placed upon each student's head, the seem at the brim widening as it shouted one House name or another. The applauds were often deafening, and Evelynn couldn't help appreciate the welcome on behalf of those students.

"Evelynn Decipio!"

When her name was called, she froze. For a breath, perhaps two or three, she couldn't move. In an instance, the excitement she had built returned to terror. What if she wasn't meant to be here? What if this was a mistake? What if she were to put on the hat and it tell the entirety of the hall that just like she didn't belong at Windemere, neither does she have a place here? What if none of the Houses suit her?

"Go!" Whispered a girl next to Evelynn. "That's you, isn't it?"

Evelynn felt a small shove at the small of her back, and she took a step forward, if only to stop herself from tripping. And then another. And then a third. Somehow, her feet managed to find the courage where her mind had failed her to cross that floor and rise the steps, and before long, she found herself seated facing the massive audience.

And a moment later, it all went black as the brim of the hat fell down below her line of vision.

"Aahh... what have we here? Decipio, is it? Can't say I've encountered one of you before. First of your name it seems. Muggle-raised, which usually means no bias, but I sense that you see yourself a Ravenclaw or Slytherin?"

It was as though... as though she were wearing headphones. No... it was more than that. More...encompassing. It was as though the voice came from everywhere. Almost from within her mind. The closest she could describe it was like when she wore her VR set. But it was different... somehow...

"Hmmm... Difficult. There's cunning; that is evident. Plenty of wit and intuition. And the pursuit of knowledge! You have potential; there's no doubt about that. You would be well suited to Ravenclaw, that is a certainty, you are not wrong there. And Slytherin could do you well to hone your ambitions and build you to greatness. But you under-estimate yourself. There is more to you than you see. And there is but one House that will help you develop your full potential...so it had better be Gryffindor!"

A moment later and Evelynn felt the Sorting Hat whisked off the top of her head with wispy strands of hair following in its wake. Squinting as her vision adjusted to the sudden shift of light, found her gaze searching for what it was she was supposed to do next.

"Just there.." A kindly voice and open palm of the nearby Professor guided Evelynn towards the Gryffindor table where polite applause welcomed their newest member. Carefully so as not to take a most embarrassing tumble, Evelynn eased herself from the stool and made her way over to her new House table.

A new chance. A new school. A new life. She could do this.

Right?

Amalia Hawthorn

"Amalia Hawthorn."

Oh man. So many people were watching her. So expectant of her. They wanted great things from her. But could she really live up to their demands? Was it really possible to be that great, when she doesn't even know that much about the wizarding world? Would her house really accept someone as clueless as her?

She walked up onto the stage, sitting upon the stool where the others had sat, and the hat was placed upon her head.

"Hmm, I see doubt in your mind. You see little worth in yourself. You think that others will think poorly of you. But your heart is strong, no matter how quiet you are. You stand by who you care for. Yes, it is very clear to me now...."

There was a silence. Why did no one speak up? Did she do something wrong. But the hat spoke once again, interrupting her thought.

"Better be.....HUFFLEPUFF!"

What house did Hufflepuff stand for again? Oh man, she knew nothing about this place! Well if the hat thought that was where she belonged, than so be it. It was easy to find where to go next, from the waving hands that beckoned her over. She carefully arose from her stool, leaving it for the next soul's fate to be decided as she headed towards the table, now her table.

After what seemed like long, agonizing hours trapped with a bunch of edgy eleven year olds on a boat, Josephine finally made it to the Great Hall. Any more time listening to how some of her classmates "hated their lives" because their parents "totally sucked," and she'd have waterboarded herself with her new cloak and lake water.

The large group of first years to arrive had now paced themselves into the Great Hall, all the eyes of the upperclassmen falling to them. It was something her mother had told her about- being a first year attracted loads of perhaps unwanted and negative attention, but it was nothing Josie couldn't handle. She'd gone her past however many school years being unliked by her teachers, but worshipped by her peers. It was an energy that the girl carried- likable in all the most cunning ways. 

All the first years were rounded up together, waiting for the sorting to begin. Her last name was an S, so she knew she had quite a long time to wait until it was her turn. Her eyes found themselves training on the ceiling above her- rather, the lack thereof. Through the candles, the stars shined much brighter than they did in the city. All the light pollution had drowned out the night sky, and seeing it so clear for the first time she could remember was invigorating. She managed to get lost in them, the applause and cheering becoming drowned out noise in her ears until her own name was called.

"...Salvatore!"

Josephine's head snapped to attention, most eyes of the Hogwarts students and professors in the Great Hall on her. Now was the moment of truth that would potentially decide the rest of her life. Both her parents were Slytherin in their time at Hogwarts, and part of her, deep down, was afraid they'd absolutely disown her if she got some pussy weak house like Hufflepuff. She took long strides up the steps to where the sorting hat was being held. Part of her was worried she'd fall off the tall stool, but she managed to get herself up onto it with ease. The hat was then placed upon Josephine's head.

"Oh, what do we have here? ...Another Salvatore. As if I didn't have enough with your father and his dozen siblings." 

Josephine resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She'd heard enough about her father and his siblings escapades at Hogwarts at family holiday dinners. She didn't need to hear about it during her sorting as well. 

"I feel something... Very cunning from you. An internal ambition that seems to get you into trouble more often than not. But you're smart, child... Quite smart. But that can also make you dangerous."

Jo bit the inside of her cheeks, trying to look up at the hat as it spoke. most of those things felt like backhanded compliments, but she wasn't about to question it on stage in front of everyone. She'd just internalize it and use it to vent in her journal later.

"There are a few houses that I see for you, child... but one much stronger than the others. SLYTHERIN!"

She let out a breath of relief as the name of her family house was called. There was cheering coming from the table where the Slytherin's congregated as the hat was taken off of Josephine and she was waved over. Her shoulders were grabbed as soon as she was close enough and she was pushed down the line. There were pats to her back, to her head, mostly congratulatory, some pre-hazing. A small smile came to the girls lips and her worries slipped away. Perhaps this place really could be her home. 

Robbie hadn't been exactly thrilled for the Sorting Ceremony. While the letter he'd received explained the significance of the event, and the excited chatter of other up and coming wizards filled the air, he sat in his chair, fidgeting. The anxiety in the room was infectious, and he found himself trying and failing to zone out as he not-so-patiently awaited being called up. Wizards left the stage with grand smiles on their faces, or scowls, or even confusion. There seemed to be an air of expectation as some of the apparently pure-blooded wizards went up, as if the family's legacy was at stake. The lack of context that his muggle-born status provided made the experience all the more confusing and scary, but he put on a brave face.

In truth, Robbie had no gosh darn clue about what to expect about Hogwarts. From what he could tell thus far, however, was it was all about ceremony and pomp; neither ever particularly concerned him. He'd been a boy raised on the merits of hard work and dedication, never qualities like class or status. His family earned their keep, and his parents worked hard to sustain the five of six of them. It was something that marked him as a Clarke, or so he'd like to believe. As he looked at the Great Hall, idly inspecting its grandeur and finally lulling into a bit of relaxed daydreaming, he was caught off guard when his name was called. "ROBERT CLARKE!"

While nearly falling out of his seat in his surprise, after earning a few snickers from the wizards sat near him, he steeled his resolve and approached the hat with a scowl. As it settled gently on his ears, Robbie was unsure of what to expect. Robbie went into the experience with an open mind, hoping that it wouldn't be a complete bust.

"Pride... It seems you have a lot of it, Robert." It took every bone in his body not to flinch as the voice rang out in his head. "Restraint too, it seems." The hat lightly chuckled, clearly having noted the way his body tensed and the jolt of surprise he experienced. "Hard work. Dedication. A desire not for status, not necessarily for knowledge... A desire for power? No, not quite. Power for power's sake scandalizes you, does it not? Your desire for strength stems from your desire for inner strength, the ability to protect. The ability to serve." Robbie was unsure of whether he should be replying to the hat's seemingly idle conversation, so he just subtly nodded. He didn't want to seem like a total idiot.

"Yes... I think I have it now. You care deeply for your family, sentimental even to a fault. Your inner fire burns brightly, Robert, but not like the bright, raging flames of a Gryffindor. You desire fairness, equity, not greatness or glory. Your bravery does not traipse into the realm of foolhardiness. Your house is clear to me."

There was a moment's pause, as Robbie waited anxiously in anticipation, before the hat loudly exclaimed for all to hear, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

And so Robert made his way to the assigned table, garnering a few friendly smiles and a pat or two on the back. He wasn't sure what to make of his assignment, though he caught the eyes of a few of the wizards who'd laughed at him when he got up, noting that they had managed to find something else funny. Perhaps it was his sorting? Unaware of the school's subtle culture of Hufflepuff inferiority entirely, he sat at his seat in silence, going back to daydreaming as he had been before.

Jo winced as her name was called.
She felt a thousand eyes boring into the back of her skull as she trudged to the seat.
The leather wasn't warm or comforting... just there. She tried to clear her mind, removing it of anything the Sorting Hat could see or try to analyze. A brick wall. She thought of a brick wall - the little stones caught in between the concrete filling, the dull hue...
Hot breath blew against her face as the hat leaned down.
Slytherin, Slytherin, please. she mumbled, in a barely audible voice. Her face was flushed - she knew it. She held back tears, trying to focus on the sea of emotionless faces staring back. They were judging her, she thought, trying to beat the Sorting Hat and guess her house before it. Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin - she repeated to her numb brain. The hat thought. She felt it thinking, twisting its head from side to side.

Its answer was brief, sudden, and devastating.
No.

What?

No.

Please, please. She spluttered in disbelief. No... please. This can't be happening. An underwater dormitory, friends who never give up or stop. I want to be in Slytherin. I've always dreamed of Slytherin. Please.
No. The hat repeated firmly, and Jo felt its expression soften. She couldn't see its face on account of the hat being atop her head, but she felt it.
Why? was all she could whisper. She knew she was a Slytherin. She felt as if the vast, dark ceiling of the Great Hall would cave in above her head and engulf the world itself. For the second time in her life, Jo prayed that she would wake up. That this hellish mockery of a Sorting Ceremony would be nothing but a nightmare and she could go back to hopeful dreams of silver and green...

Slytherin will corrupt you. The hat explained calmly. You are capable of great evil, just like your father. Yes, I recall him now. He sat in this very seat - a proud man, easy to read. He had his mind bent on Slytherin, just like you. So alas, I let him go.
What was his name? Jo blurted out impulsively.
His name? That is for you to figure out by yourself.
B-but I'm not brave! At all. Everyone says I'm clever, and I like to learn. At least a Ravenclaw! But...everyone says I'm ambitious. I'm resourceful. I'm not brave, and I don't trust loyal people. I'm not a nice girl, either.
You're a long way from a Hufflepuff - I'll agree to that, child. I do see the scholar within you... Ravenclaw will bring you many honors, but it's not where your destiny lies. Gryffindor - now there is an interesting prospect! Brave, heroic friends to set you straight on the path to glory! If you love the water so much, learn to tame the fire first! A crackling hearth, righteous friends, and warm, comforting blankets are exactly what you need! I know evil when I see it, Miss Morgan. I have read the thoughts of far worse than the likes of you! Why, the very Tom Riddle himself was once sorted by me, the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts! The hat was louder now, and Jo cringed at its harsh tone. I have seen evil in every form and shape, it continued proudly. And you are nothing of the sort, but all the same...
Then why are you worried? asked Jo without waiting for a response. It was a sincere question, but she felt almost as if she was attempting to push the old hat to a conclusion, and she felt guilty for proving it right - she was being bold. You just sounded worried, is all. An afterthought. A stupid, repetitive afterthought. Jo cringed again.
You will not - indeed, must not- become a Slytherin. That much is clear. Every syllable of the sentence was enunciated, and Jo's heart sank once more at the unwavering decision.
The leather above her head heaved as the Sorting Hat let out a sigh.
Jo tried to remember the last few times she was determined and cunning. Were there any awards, any tournaments she had won...? Yes, she had won quite a few academic awards in elementary school.
I see you're very determined. The hat said, unimpressed.
Jo smiled as she fondly recalled a particular spelling bee in which she had...
Yes, yes. Stop trying to show me. I know it. You would destroy everything in your path to achieve your goals, correct? Jo nodded furiously. This was precisely why Slytherin was perfect for her! And I am to sit by and let you grow for seven years in a house that will encourage you to replace your compassion with ruthlessness and your heart with stone? You will become a villain, Miss Morgan, that much is clear to me. The best villain of her age, but a villain nonetheless. I am sorry to say I refuse see such a thing happen. I will not see you become your father.
What... Jo tried to force words out of her dry mouth. What do you know about my father? Her voice was now reduced to a pitiful croak. What happened to him?
I cannot tell you, Miss Morgan. The hat answered quietly, and roared to the Great Hall the one and only word in the world that could shatter Jo's heart into a million pieces.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

It was too late to go back - to ask for forgiveness, or maybe a second chance. The ocean of red and gold undulated as the mass that was apparently Gryffindor let out a deafening cheer. Utterly crushed, Jo breathed in sharply and stood up. She couldn't cry now. Not now, in front of the whole school. Her feet felt like lead, and her ears rang. Wiping the sweat from her forehead and squinting to halt the quickening blurring of her vision, Jo Morgan collapsed onto the first open seat she saw and hid her face in the sleeve of her robe. This... wasn't home.
Someone grabbed her shoulder, and shook her. She raised her quivering hand in mock triumph with the others as another beaming student took their place amongst the waving red and gold banners. For the moment Jo was lost... a blotch of rust in a perfect set of shining armor, a tiny crack in a beautiful glass bottle, a stain on an impeccable robe.

...just a minor little villain, she thought, hopelessly adrift in a sea of heroes.

Jo grabbed the nearest glass of pumpkin juice and downed it in a single, melancholy gulp.
It was going to be a long, long seven years.