Sorting Ceremony 2019-2020 Archived

Along with the other first years, Noelle stepped into the Great Hall for the very first time. She didn't know what to expect but the room didn't fail to amaze her. The dining hall was huge, with paintings lining the walls, ghosts floating around, and candles hung from invisible strings. She had to hang her head back all the way just to see the ceiling, which was high above. She could just make out the twinkling lights that mimicked the starry night sky outside. At least she wouldn't have to leave the castle much if she wanted to see that.

As they walked, Noelle began to become uncomfortably aware of the students surrounding them as the group of first years walked down the middle of the Great Hall. It's as if they'd never seen first years before and they couldn't get enough of them. Noelle knew that they'd never seen this group of first years before, but the ehes just seemed to penetrate every part of her.

The entire room was quiet, except for the occasional whispers from the nervous first years and the other students sitting at their respective houses. Noelle looked at each one, her eyes lingering on the house if Hufflepuff. It was the one her mother had been in, and what she expected for her daughter to be sorted into. Noelle had been okay with this for a long time but lately she's been doubting that she would fit in that house, she just wasn't that...

Well, she had a lot of the same qualities as her mother but she was more original in her thinking. Her mother tended to focus on the same things and care much for innovation and trying new things, but growing up, Noelle had always liked to do things different, because she got bored of repetition. And she had never liked when her mother would want to be just like everyone else, which is why she was constantly stressed and worried, worried about fitting in with both the muggle and wizard world.

But Noelle loved her individuality, despite her insecurities. Sure, she tried to please others but when she felt like what made her herself was threatened, she defended it, and would keeping defying the odds, even when no one else thought it was possible.

This is why she began to think that she'd fair better in the House of Ravenclaw, or at least Gryffindor. Her mother, reminiscing on memories from Hogwarts, slipped up on information about her father, mentioned how he had been a Slytherin. That had greatly surprised Noelle but no further information had been given to her so she was left to reflect on that one detail, which nagged her constantly.

Noelle had been daydreaming and almost didn't catch her name being called.

“Carmona, Noelle?”

She swallowed and glanced around, as if that could have possibly been anyone else's name, and ducked her head as she made her way to the stool. She paused when she stood in front of it, staring down at the Sorting Hat, before picking it up carefully. A professor nearby told her to relax, probably sending her nerves, and Noelle nodded.

Once the hat was lowered onto her head, the famous Sorting Hat immediately dived into his decision making. He hmmed and humphed a lot, bringing up certain memories and thoughts she's had. Noelle's hands clenched around the stool, feeling a little embarrassed that's someone, or something, was going through her mind. She wondered if it knew things that she didn't even know about herself, and that was rare. Noelle thought she knew her entirety, but the Sorting Hat's job was to dive deep, look in every nook and cranny and corner for anything that could help decide which hat she'd be put in—

“RAVENCLAW.” And it was over. Noelle stood up, dazed, even though the whole thing had lasted less than ten seconds. She didn't even get to ask anything, she had been busy worry about next to nothing. But something bloomed inside her when she heard that she was now a Ravenclaw. She couldn't figure out whether it was pride or relief, or both.

As she made her way towards her table, her housemates were met with a beam that outshined the stars, because she was truly grateful to be at Hogwarts, let alone Ravenclaw.

The rough voice of John's father echoed in the back of his mind as the boy entered the Great Hall in the swarm of his fellow first years. He had been a bit annoyed having to shuffle in so close amongst everyone, shoulders rubbing and elbows bumping. Holding back a bit and letting most of the others walk eagerly in, John followed the line of his peers in between the house tables towards to front of the room. The Wolfe family was typically made up of those having attended Durmstrang so John had only read up on various Hogwarts information including the Sorting Ceremony. However reading up on Hogwarts still hadn't prepare the boy for the sheer size of the castle, the hall, and just how the ceremony would go.

Even if his parents hadn't attended Hogwarts he still felt pressure to make good for the Wolfe family name. His father had been expecting Slytherin clearly for the Pureblood stereotype, and mother having already bought a handful of red trappings for his room at the house in Wales, expected the outcome to be Gryffindor. John himself didn't have any preference one way or another, except Hufflepuffs sounded too demure for his taste. Coming to a halt behind two other first years he recognized from the train ride in, John's gaze rose to the stool before them, a tattered old hat resting upon it. Watching in awe at the spectacular before him, the Headmaster definitely striking a cord with John, he seemed like a respectable man... John observed those around him closely as the singing started. Strange... but out of trained respect, drilled into him by his family, John clapped with the other applauding the Hat's performance.

All eyes seemed to be forward as the first years thinned out in numbers, each rising to the seat and sorted to their respective houses. A bit of anxiety crept into the boy as he awaited his name to be called. Trying to pay close attention he was drawn into looking at the pictures and lighting of the hall.. the space the Professors sat wondering who taught what. Part of him was getting bored while the other tried to manage the excitement of being in a new place. He needed to stay together, put together and calm. John's train of thought shifted from the commotion and cheering of the ceremony as he scanned the other half of the room.

"Wolfe, John!"

A jolt of excitement burned across the boy's mind as he heard his name being called out. Straightening out his uniform John took a step forward. Make us proud. Again, his father's voice rang in the back of his mind, the look his father gave still seered into his memory. Letting out a breath the boy continued forward and took a seat as the hat was set gently down atop his head.

Musty leather filled the boy's nostrils making his nose scrunch up and corners of his mouth slump. This seems rather- His thoughts were cut off as a new voice filtered into his thoughts and overcame his father's.

"Well now! How interesting is this.... fresh blood so to speak! What a unique family.... mostly unknown to this side of our world.. you seek to start anew-" John gritted his teeth, how did this hat know anything about his family let alone his own feelings. "Don't worry that isn't a bad thing, respectful in fact. Maybe it will allow you to open your eyes and hearts to those around you.. inside you do have plenty of good qualities that are not to be ashamed of. Brave and orderly.. I also see a great deal of courage if you would just let it show. I know where you need to be..."

John opened his mouth to protest but realized it would be to no avail as a voice rang forth from the hat-

"GRYFFINDOR!"

A wave of cheering came from a scarlet red table of excited faces. As the hat was lifted from his head, John brushed his hair back into place and slowly made his way to the table of lions... a slight smile on his face as he knew at least his mother would be happy.. too bad for his father's plans.

Along with the other first years, the boy slithers through the Great Hall, absorbing the magnitude of that school. Still breathless from the sight he’d gotten; of the castle’s towers that seemed to cut through the night sky, growing larger and larger as the small boats approached, Roman can’t think of anything; no mean comment on tip of his tongue, no snarky joke in the back of his mind. Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

The tall wizard stares at the ceiling, analyzing the floating candles that burn above his head, while the ones his age are called toward the Sorting Hat; some looking pale, shaking from their heads to toes, while others confidently follow in the hat’s direction. Roman will never admit it, but he is nervous; his stomach twists inside his body and there is a reason why he needs to breathe so hard like that – a helpless attempt to calm his heart.

Roman knows himself, and even if he didn’t, he knows his family. Being a Kingston is the equivalent of being a Ravenclaw — and, if the Hat considered another house, he could always intervene and give his own input on the matter. Therefore, there is no reason for him to feel so anxious, hands sweaty, eyes now darting towards the floor as he feels right now. His chest is warm, and he rubs his eyes, helping to clear his helpless brain.

“Kingston, Roman!”

The way the person says his name almost feels like an echo in his head and every step he takes towards the Sorting Hat hits in a similar way to a church bell. Roman sits down and falls at ease once the intelligent hat is put on his head, covering his eyes, protecting himself from the view of the entirety of the Great Hall’s eyes turned in his direction.

“Ah, Kingston! Isn’t that interesting?” hums the Sorting Hat, in a knowing tone that Roman disliked, thank you very much, and makes the boy huff, impatiently, left foot tapping against the floor. He wants to talk back to the hat, order that he doesn’t take to long. “At first, Ravenclaw doesn’t sound like a bad option for you, considering your family’s past… But.”

Right, Ravenclaw, that's it!, Roman agrees but doesn’t add much other than a tongue click once the Sorting Hat murmurs that ‘but’ quickly. The boy frowns, both feet tapping against the floor, legs shaking a little. “I know exactly where to put you, no need to reconsider. Be it…”

S L Y T H E R I N

Kristen was in awe of the great hall. The moving portraits, the ghosts, the floating candles. Hundreds of students sitting at the tables.
He shifted nervously. Were they going to like him? He hoped so. Loads of people at his old school liked him, but he wasn't going to see any of them for a while.
His eyes fell upon the strange hat all the other students wee trying on. When it had first yelled where the student wearing it was going to go, he'd been shocked. A hat? Talking? He could live with floating candles, a magic school and even ghosts, but a talking hat was just to insane for his liking.
He stared up at the stars through the enchanted roof. It was a clear night, and the moon was shining brightly. Hopefully this whole 'sorting' thing would be over soon, and he would be able to go to bed.
He was wrapped up in his own thoughts thinking about his bed at home, and didn't even realise when the teacher called his name.

"Kristen coulter?"

Oh god. He had to go up. He stumbled forward.
He sat down on the stool, and the sorting hat was placed upon his head. He heard a voice in his ear.
"Hmm....hello Kristen...where should we put you then..."
He looked around the hall. Who would he end up with? He wasn't sure. As long as he could actually make some real friends in that house then he'd be fine with it.

"Real friends eh?" whispered the hat. "I know where to put you for that. Better be.."

Clara shuffled through the Great Hall with her fellow First years; those who knew magic, those who came from Muggle families, and those who are like Clara, a Half-blood. Young wizards and witches of varying sizes, looks, personalities... she wondered who of them all she would get to know. She'd been fairly quiet throughout the whole trip since the Hogwarts Express, only making a sound when she departed, saying goodbye to her beloved father who once stepped through these halls to be greeted in the home of Ravenclaw. Her family had been known greatly for being loyal members of Hufflepuff and sometimes Ravenclaw, which sparked excitement within Clara as she questioned which house she would truly belong in.

Observing all that the Great Hall had to offer, with moving portraits, floating candles, and the four houses, Clara began to recall each house and their corresponding colour from her left-to-right. Slytherin... Ravenclaw... Hufflepuff... Gryffindor... Back in Australia when she recieved the letter to Hogwarts, her father told her about the four houses, mostly Ravenclaw due to his presence in the blue-coated house. She never believed Gryffindor to be her type; too bold, neither Slytherin; too deceptive. Hufflepuff? Maybe. If she wanted to seek familiarity, Ravenclaw is probable as they are wise and show great wit, just like her father.

Clara was well-hidden amongst the crowd of First years as the Headmaster began his speech, followed by the Sorting Hat and his song. Clara couldn't see the hat very well from where she was standing, shifting her position to peer through the gaps of arms with barely any luck. She only managed to catch a glimpse of the moving, brown, ragged hat proudly sitting on what looked like a wooden stool. Once his song finished, Clara felt weak as the names from the Headmaster's parchment were being announced. Would she be a Ravenclaw, just like her father? If only time didn't feel so slow as she waited anxiously for her name. Clara turned towards the portraits, hoping to find a distraction and calm her nerves; she didn't know she'd feel this scared! She always anticipated the Sorting Ceremony, imagining the look on her father's face when he finds out she's in Ravenclaw...

"Goldstone, Clara!"

With a jolt, Clara turned towards the front. Weaving her way through black robes, she found her feet carrying her towards the stool for all to see, revealing herself from her hiding place. The Great Hall kept silent, letting out a faint echo as her rhythmic footsteps filled the air. She could feel the eyes of everyone watching her perform the task everyone drearily watched: sit on the stool, put on the hat. She felt the strange hat twitch at the brim, then wiggle, until it came to life.

"A Goldstone, eh?" the hat began. Clara nodded as the hat let out a chuckle. "Yes, yes, I know who you are. You're Markus Goldstone's daughter; the Ravenclaw boy I sorted years ago. To live up to your father's successes, it's only natural you'd think to find a place in Ravenclaw." Clara let out a small sigh of relief, but the hat continued to think from his low humming. "However," he continued as Clara held the edge of the stool tightly, "you walk a different path; a path that demands not fame or fortune, but to stay true to one's nature and passion. Caring, adventurous.. you seek knowledge and devotion for the care of magical creatures. Such responsibility requires the understanding of the importance of friendship; that is the key to thrive and unlock the best out of you. You will meet like-minded wizards and witches who can be just as compassionate and loyal. I know just where you belong..."



Her body relaxed from tension as the Hufflepuff table cheered for all of the Great Hall to hear. This time, it was not the Ravenclaw table she always imagined she'd turn to, but the yellow-robed students in between the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws who welcomed her into her home. Perhaps, the Sorting Hat spoke true: she needed to follow her own path, meet new friends, and explore this magical world for years to come.

The corridors seemed to be shrinking. Sakura Ito was sure of it. The first born in her wizarding family to go to Hogwarts was astonished by magnificent castle that she was now walking through. She had no idea what to expect the day that she got her letter. Besides that she had only been living in London for around four years. She was surrounded by so many people unlike her, who had been expecting to attend the magical school. In all honesty Sakura didn't know what her life was going to become of after moving. She had to learn a new language and leave behind all that she had ever known. Not to mention, every person here was a stranger to her. No one would know of her or her parents; she was absolutely terrified.

Eventually they made it to the doors where Sakura could only imagine was the Great Hall, as all of the other students had been murmuring about it on the walk over. Once stopped, the walls seemed to stop shrinking and Sakura was able to take a deep breath. She was more nervous than ever. She could hear the chatter from behind the door standing only a few feet away. Sakura hated attention on her. Even going out in public seemed like a life or death situation sometimes. The young witch had barely heard any of the words the professor in front of her had stated. She only caught something about a hat they would have to wear, which seemed odd to be doing at a prestigious school such as this, but none the less Sakura decided to just go with it. Before long the large doors opened welcoming in the group of students. The room inside went quiet as everyone in there turned to look at Sakura's class.

As soon as the students were all inside the headmaster began quickly speaking until another voice chimed in. The voice seemed to be coming from the old piece of cloth that sat in front of them, and before anyone could say anything the cloth spoke again moving slightly. It was at this point Sakura realized the cloth was indeed a hat and those were not just rumors being spread. The hat and the headmaster talked for a little longer about the four houses of Hogwarts and what each of them entailed. Then began the sorting.

Sakura wasn't totally familiar with what the sorting was, but it seemed pretty simple. Walk up and the hat sorts you. She watched intently as the people with last names that alphabetically came before her walked up to the hat. Finally, her name was called. Sakura felt the people around stare as she walked slowly up to large hat. Her face immediately grew red. She barely felt the hat being placed on her head she was too anxious. Anxious to get off the stage, anxious to stop the staring, anxious to just go to bed.

The strange hat spoke for some time, but Sakura only barely was paying attention to what it was saying. There was a long pause as Sakura wondered if she was supposed to say something, until finally the hat spoke loudly to announce to the entire room. "RAVENCLAW!" the hat yelled, which was followed by an outburst of claps and cheers from one of the long tables standing in the room. The hat was then taken off her head and she walked down to the very same table the loud celebration had just occurred from. Sakura Ito was finally starting her new adventure.

[quote]As Rosedriah and the first years headed deep into the bowels of the castle, her smile began to waver, like a person who just realized he was marooned on an island full of dementors. Wand in hand, she gazed around each corner as the passed, as if something strange would pop out at any given moment just to scare her. She just couldn't be so sure anymore, after she came to see what the castle looked like on the outside. It was so huge and scary, you could just tell it was full of magic. And it didn't help that it was night time either; with the Forbidden Forest right there Rosedriah had figured something bad would just dart out and take her away forever.

But for now she was safe. Still, she had a strange feeling like something was wrong, or maybe it was just her nerves. In the front of the group there were prefects giving a tour of the school, sharing bits of trivia and history that Rosedriah probably already knew or wouldn't remember anyway. It was hard to focus because she kept darting her wide eyes around at everything, from the ghosts, the moving paintings, to the students and professors she didn't know yet. Everything was just so different than she imagined.

She tripped. A few students nearby snickered and she shot a dirty look at them, turning red.

“It's not funny,” she began, but was instantly shushed by a professor, who she in turn glared at. Everyone she had met here so far was irrational, and it was aggravating.

Rosedriah stomped to the front of line, so she wouldn't have to be in the back with the annoying people. She was able to pay attention this time, feeling a tad bit safer. She heard many interesting details and became curious, asking questions here and there. Her fear slipped to the back of her mind.

But then someone shouted something about the Great Hall, which then appeared right around a corner. Rosedriah's heartbeat quickened and she froze in place, staring agape.

The doors were wide open. A middle-aged man stood by it, who she supposed was Headmaster Solomon Lear, giving a warm smile to the students approaching. But Rosedriah was focused on what lay behind him: the eyes of a million students stared back at her, and it was making her entirely too uncomfortable.

Someone nudged her from behind and Rosedriah managed to swallow most of her fear. She kept walking, her heart acting as if it wanted to burst out of her chest.

The room was huge but at the same time it looked like it could scarcely accommodate all of the students and staff, even less the amount of new students this year. But she continued on and waited in line as the Sorting Ceremony commenced.

Soon, after the speeches, the songs, and the name callings, Rosedriah was called to be sorted.

“Roderick, Rosedriah.”

She heard a 'whoop, whoop!' from the Hufflepuff table and glanced over to see her older brother Berry standing up, grinning her face off. She grinned back and looked over at the Gryffindor table, where her eldest brother sat. But she couldn't see him amongst them all, maybe because he didn't want to be seen. This made her chest deflate a little.

Rosedriah went up to the seat and sat down, letting the Sorting Hat be placed on top of her head.

“Another Roderick, I see. It's my pleasure.”

“Thank yer,” she said back, wondering which house it would pick.

“Hm, I see that your family has an affinity for Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, and it's not decided by gender, either. No, this will truly be decided by what's inside, my dear."

“Okay,” she replied, after licking her lips. She didn't realize how nervous she was until she unclenched her fists. “Do yer fink I'll be in Gryffindor, fen?”

“It's not that I think, but that I know that you're a Gryffindor.”

Realizing what was about to happen, Rosedriah quickly tried to add, “Wot about Slyfferin—”

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The room went up in applause, centered in the Gryffindor table. Rosedriah smiled politely, but her mind was racing with thoughts of why she had just said that. Why do I want to be in Slytherin so badly? And it wasn't because of Purebloods ancestral history; her dad came from a long line of Gryffindors, so it was part of the tradition, she should be proud...

But as she went to sit down, unfortunately not by her brother, Rosedriah was left to contemplate her confusing actions. Why?

Day was ecstatic. She LOVED to venture places all on her own, and when she received her Hogwarts letter, she started packing immediately. It took her parents quite a bit to adjust to the idea of their little girl away from home for so long, but to them, it made sense. More importantly, they trusted her, and knew that there was no way she'd lead a safe life if her powers remained untrained.

After weeks of what seemed like endless waiting, the day had finally arrived. It had been a tough morning trying to get ready to leave, and the seeming lack of a platform 9 and 3/4 certainly didn't help.

However, to Day, that morning seemed like ages ago. all that she had seen in learned in the last few hours alone made her forget all about the stress of travelling. Along with that, she was quite the social butterfly, and had already made a few friends on the bus. Now, she stood in line with the other first years, waiting eagerly for her house assignment.

As they began to read off the list, Day was beginning to think they'd forgotten her altogether. Of course, they hadn't- she was simply being dramatic, per usual. The more names passed, the antsier she got. Finally, just as she thought she couldn't possibly wait any longer, she heard her surname echo throughout the hall.

"REINHEIMER!"

The girl bit her lip, and nearly sprinted up to the stool in her excitement. She looked up at the hat as it was gently lowered onto her head, and waited for it's analysis.

"My my, Day Reinheimer. Fitting name for such a bright girl. Social, yet... stubborn."

Her eager smile quickly turned into an annoyed frown.

"I am not stubborn!"

The hat snickered. "And quite confident, expressive, unapologetic- now there's something to consider..."

This worried her a bit. Had she done something wrong?

"Day, Day. What shall I say... I say, your time will be most gay, in... SLYTHERIN!"

She couldn't help but crack a grin as it started rhyming. She didn't know too much about the houses, other than what she'd picked up from others on the train, but Slytherin seemed like a very cool house. Needless to say, she was pleased. The Slytherin table cheered, and she trotted down the stairs, taking a seat next to some upperclassmen.

Now, Day had been assigned her school family. She stopped paying attention to the sorting altogether, lost in thought about what the next seven years of her life would entail.

Come the time his name rang out into the Great Hall, Pericles Dralt had repeatedly walked his way to the Sorting Hat in his mind. Again and again, his eyes had wandered the stones leading up to that rickety old chair, calculating the steps, preparing a pace, imagining himself moving with proper poise and sitting with head held high. He scarcely minded the succulent meal arranged on the table before him, though he managed to sip his pumpkin juice, if only to ensure his mouth was wet and voice came clearly. At the start, his full focus was set on the towering figure of the armored Headmaster, and Pericles had paid rapt attention as each teacher was announced. All faculty were regarded with wide owlish eyes. But soon, he was back to dazedly plotting a course to the Hat.

Headmaster Lear's booming voice rattled him from his reveries.
He had planned for this multiple times over the last several minutes, yet all intents of grace were gone. Pericles stumbled from his seat, practically leaping up with such eagerness that he nearly lost his footing. He squared his shoulders, blinked his big round eyes, and walked at what felt like a float (but looked like an energetic power-walk). The seat squeaked softly as the tall lad settled into it, and his shoulders reflexively hunched as the great big Hat settled onto his snowy hair. His heart leapt when the voice sounded in his ear, flooding him with adrenaline, the true thrill of adventure.

"Your mind's as much a mess as your father's, like a library tossed about by a hurricane!"
Pericles' awestruck smile fell into a frown. He considered his father to be a well-grounded scholar.
"Ah... yet scattered or no, this library is still brimming with knowledge. There is an intelligence, yes, and many a blank book eager to see its pages filled. You have a hunger, just as he did, only... yours isn't based in accomplishment, is it?" The boy pursed his lips and began to shake his head, but the Hat carried on without pause. "No. I see now. Your ethic isn't based in bettering yourself, but the world. Not unlike your Ravenclaw mother. You are more ambitious than her, more imaginative than your Slytherin father. They both bore that same curiosity and cleverness. Aha! And I see a twinkling of their love for adventure...."

Pericles' hands balled into small fists. This was his sorting, wasn't he to be analyzed?
"I'm sorry, sir, but do you mean to sort me based on who my parents are?"
The Hat's snark took on a faux edge of surprise.
"But boy, you are already comparing yourself to them! Why oughtn't I?"
"Because I'm not them! I'm me!"

As soon as the words were muttered so sternly, so certainly, the budding wizard realized the Hat had given him just the nudge he needed. "That you are, dear boy," it agreed with smug satisfaction. "It is high time you focused on yourself, so that I might do the same." Humbled, Pericles drew and held another deep breath, thoughts finally pulling from the memories and expectations of his mother and father. He mulled over what he wanted to achieve, where his passion lie, what his unspoken hopes and dreams were. The Hat hummed pensively before its wizened drawl pried, "You truly believe that wisdom will guide you to greatness?" Pericles' lips hardly had time to part before the wise old Hat declared, "There it is, then. We both know the answer to this mystery:

As Paschar sat on the stool and the sorting hat was slowly lowered onto his head he thought of the grand hall he sat in and the history it must have witnessed. Was this where all wizards and witches began? How could he measure up to their greatness with such an uninteresting background? He had never known of witchcraft or wizardry except what he read about in books or saw in movies. They weren't real. They were pure fantasy and figments of imagination from the minds of eccentric storytellers.

Yet here he sat. Watching floating candles hover over hundreds of students and teachers alike. People dressed in long cloaks and wearing odd hats. All of them, including him, under a ceiling that displayed a beautiful starry sky that looked as real as if he were outside and gazing up at the heavens above. Could this all really be real? Or was he simply dreaming?

As the hat touched his head he suddenly heard a voice, "Now, where to put you?"

Paschar thought about the song he heard moments ago. Was he brave like Gryffindor? He doesn't remember ever needing to be brave.
Was he just and loyal like Hufflepuff? He thought of his friends of which he only had a few. Surely he was loyal to them, but that had never been tested.
Could he be cunning like Slytherin? Sure he knew how to work for what he wanted, any student should, but he never desired greatness.
Could he be as wise as Ravenclaw? He was always a good student, he studied hard and applied himself at learning anything he could.

Paschar thought about himself while the hat hummed and listened to him think it through. He knew nothing about wizards or magic. He knew nothing about witchcraft or spells. He didn't understand the wondrous sights he had seen thus far or even what was possible in the future. He knew nothing. And he realized suddenly that that is what bothered him most about where he was. He knew nothing. That wasn't like him. He always understood his schoolwork when he studied it. He always understood the lessons his teachers gave him to grasp. But here... there was nothing. It was all new.

Wisdom would only be gained if he worked harder then ever to achieve it. If he applied his own methods for gaining knowledge, he could excel here. He could be wise. He could be...

"RAVENCLAW!"

Paschar slides off the stool and walks to the Ravenclaw table. A small smile crosses his face. His eyes are bright with focus and determination. He's greeted by his housemates warmly, and with a sigh of relief and an eagerness to begin this new life he takes his seat.