Sorting Ceremony
Amber followed the other first years through the castle corridors, trying not to stare too obviously at everything around her. The stone walls seemed endless, lined with moving portraits that watched them pass with open curiosity. Somewhere nearby she could hear ghosts arguing loudly with each other, and every few seconds another group of older students rushed past laughing like all of this was completely normal.
Her grip tightened around her copy of Hogwarts, A History.
She had spent almost the entire train ride reading it, hoping that if she memorised enough information, maybe she would not stand out so much. But the more she learned about the wizarding world, the more she realised how little she actually knew.
The girls she’d met on the train had explained the houses to her in great detail.
“Gryffindors are brave.”
“Hufflepuffs are loyal.”
“Ravenclaws are clever.”
“And Slytherins…” One of the girls had lowered her voice dramatically. “Well. Most dark wizards came from there.”
The others had nodded immediately.
Amber remembered staying quiet after that, looking out at the rain racing down the train window. The way they spoke about Slytherin felt strange to her. Too rehearsed. Like they had all been taught the same opinion before even meeting anyone from the house.
Surely an entire house could not just be evil.
As they walked, she found herself thinking about where she might end up.
Gryffindor did not feel right. She admired brave people, but bravery had never come naturally to her. Even now her stomach twisted nervously from simply being surrounded by so many people.
Hufflepuff seemed kinder. Safer, maybe. But she was not sure she was warm enough for it. She liked people, just… in smaller amounts. Most of the time she preferred books, music, sketching quietly by herself.
Ravenclaw made the most sense. She liked learning things. Analysing them. Understanding how and why people worked the way they did. Even as everyone around her judged Slytherin immediately, part of her kept wondering if there was more to it than that.
And maybe that was the problem.
Because a small part of her understood Slytherin too.
Not the dark wizard part, she doubted that was written into people from birth, but the ambition. The need to prove yourself. To be more than what others expected. She knew what it felt like to be underestimated before anyone even knew her properly.
The giant oak doors suddenly opened before them.
Amber stopped walking completely.
The Great Hall stretched out before her, glowing gold under thousands of floating candles. Four long tables filled the room, crowded with students talking loudly over each other while ghosts drifted lazily between them. Above everything, the enchanted ceiling mirrored the dark night sky perfectly, scattered with stars.
It was beautiful in a way that almost hurt to look at.
The room felt alive.
A nervous excitement spread through her chest as she stepped inside slowly, hearing hundreds of voices echo around the hall. Some older students were already staring curiously at the first years entering. Others barely looked up from their conversations.
At the very front of the room sat an old, patched hat on a wooden stool.
The Sorting Hat.
Amber swallowed nervously.
For a strange moment, she wondered if the hat would see things about her that even she did not fully understand yet.
One by one, names were called as students stumbled forward to sit beneath the hat. Every few seconds the hall would erupt into applause as another first year was sorted.
Amber barely heard any of them.
Her heart pounded harder with every name.
“Allen, Amber”
She almost missed it entirely.
For a second her legs refused to move, but then she forced herself forward through the sea of staring faces. Hundreds of eyes followed her as she sat carefully on the stool, her hands gripping the edge tightly enough to hurt.
The Sorting Hat dropped over her eyes, covering the hall in darkness.
A quiet voice spoke almost immediately inside her head.
“Hm. Interesting.”
Amber froze.
“Nervous, certainly. Very nervous. But thoughtful too. You observe before you act. You question things others accept immediately.”
Her stomach twisted.
“Well, that’s understandable,” the Hat continued calmly. “New world. New people. And yet you are already trying to understand them instead of fear them.”
Amber’s mind flashed unwillingly to the conversation on the train about Slytherin.
The Hat seemed amused.
“Yes. You noticed that, didn’t you? Clever girl. Most children arrive here already convinced they know what each house means.”
Amber stayed perfectly still.
“You would do well in Ravenclaw,” the Hat mused. “You enjoy learning. You think deeply. You analyse everything around you.”
A small flicker of relief sparked in her chest.
“But there’s more than that.”
The voice grew quieter somehow.
“There is ambition in you too. Not loud ambition. Not arrogance. But determination. A need to prove yourself. To become someone important on your own terms.”
Amber’s throat tightened slightly.
“You understand what it feels like to be underestimated. Misunderstood before anyone truly knows you.” The Hat paused. “And despite what others may believe… you do not judge so easily yourself.”
The hall outside felt impossibly silent.
Amber suddenly realised what the Hat was about to say before it even said it.
“Better be…”
Her pulse raced.
“…SLYTHERIN!”
The hall exploded into applause from the table draped in green and silver.
Amber pulled the hat off quickly, her thoughts spinning so fast she could barely breathe properly. Slytherin.
For a second she simply sat there frozen.
Part of her felt shocked. Another part strangely… relieved.
Because deep down, it did make sense.
The nervousness in her chest had not disappeared, if anything it had doubled now that hundreds of students were watching her, but beneath it something warmer flickered too. Excitement. Curiosity. The terrifying thrill of stepping into something completely unknown.
She stood slowly as the Slytherin table clapped louder, some students cheering while others leaned forward curiously to look at her.
Amber caught sight of a few students at other tables whispering immediately after hearing her house.
That familiar feeling returned again.
Being judged before being known.
But this time, instead of shrinking away from it, she lifted her chin slightly and walked toward the Slytherin table anyway.
If she was being honest with herself, she wanted to know the truth about this house on her own.
Not the version people whispered about.
The real one.
Her grip tightened around her copy of Hogwarts, A History.
She had spent almost the entire train ride reading it, hoping that if she memorised enough information, maybe she would not stand out so much. But the more she learned about the wizarding world, the more she realised how little she actually knew.
The girls she’d met on the train had explained the houses to her in great detail.
“Gryffindors are brave.”
“Hufflepuffs are loyal.”
“Ravenclaws are clever.”
“And Slytherins…” One of the girls had lowered her voice dramatically. “Well. Most dark wizards came from there.”
The others had nodded immediately.
Amber remembered staying quiet after that, looking out at the rain racing down the train window. The way they spoke about Slytherin felt strange to her. Too rehearsed. Like they had all been taught the same opinion before even meeting anyone from the house.
Surely an entire house could not just be evil.
As they walked, she found herself thinking about where she might end up.
Gryffindor did not feel right. She admired brave people, but bravery had never come naturally to her. Even now her stomach twisted nervously from simply being surrounded by so many people.
Hufflepuff seemed kinder. Safer, maybe. But she was not sure she was warm enough for it. She liked people, just… in smaller amounts. Most of the time she preferred books, music, sketching quietly by herself.
Ravenclaw made the most sense. She liked learning things. Analysing them. Understanding how and why people worked the way they did. Even as everyone around her judged Slytherin immediately, part of her kept wondering if there was more to it than that.
And maybe that was the problem.
Because a small part of her understood Slytherin too.
Not the dark wizard part, she doubted that was written into people from birth, but the ambition. The need to prove yourself. To be more than what others expected. She knew what it felt like to be underestimated before anyone even knew her properly.
The giant oak doors suddenly opened before them.
Amber stopped walking completely.
The Great Hall stretched out before her, glowing gold under thousands of floating candles. Four long tables filled the room, crowded with students talking loudly over each other while ghosts drifted lazily between them. Above everything, the enchanted ceiling mirrored the dark night sky perfectly, scattered with stars.
It was beautiful in a way that almost hurt to look at.
The room felt alive.
A nervous excitement spread through her chest as she stepped inside slowly, hearing hundreds of voices echo around the hall. Some older students were already staring curiously at the first years entering. Others barely looked up from their conversations.
At the very front of the room sat an old, patched hat on a wooden stool.
The Sorting Hat.
Amber swallowed nervously.
For a strange moment, she wondered if the hat would see things about her that even she did not fully understand yet.
One by one, names were called as students stumbled forward to sit beneath the hat. Every few seconds the hall would erupt into applause as another first year was sorted.
Amber barely heard any of them.
Her heart pounded harder with every name.
“Allen, Amber”
She almost missed it entirely.
For a second her legs refused to move, but then she forced herself forward through the sea of staring faces. Hundreds of eyes followed her as she sat carefully on the stool, her hands gripping the edge tightly enough to hurt.
The Sorting Hat dropped over her eyes, covering the hall in darkness.
A quiet voice spoke almost immediately inside her head.
“Hm. Interesting.”
Amber froze.
“Nervous, certainly. Very nervous. But thoughtful too. You observe before you act. You question things others accept immediately.”
Her stomach twisted.
“Well, that’s understandable,” the Hat continued calmly. “New world. New people. And yet you are already trying to understand them instead of fear them.”
Amber’s mind flashed unwillingly to the conversation on the train about Slytherin.
The Hat seemed amused.
“Yes. You noticed that, didn’t you? Clever girl. Most children arrive here already convinced they know what each house means.”
Amber stayed perfectly still.
“You would do well in Ravenclaw,” the Hat mused. “You enjoy learning. You think deeply. You analyse everything around you.”
A small flicker of relief sparked in her chest.
“But there’s more than that.”
The voice grew quieter somehow.
“There is ambition in you too. Not loud ambition. Not arrogance. But determination. A need to prove yourself. To become someone important on your own terms.”
Amber’s throat tightened slightly.
“You understand what it feels like to be underestimated. Misunderstood before anyone truly knows you.” The Hat paused. “And despite what others may believe… you do not judge so easily yourself.”
The hall outside felt impossibly silent.
Amber suddenly realised what the Hat was about to say before it even said it.
“Better be…”
Her pulse raced.
“…SLYTHERIN!”
The hall exploded into applause from the table draped in green and silver.
Amber pulled the hat off quickly, her thoughts spinning so fast she could barely breathe properly. Slytherin.
For a second she simply sat there frozen.
Part of her felt shocked. Another part strangely… relieved.
Because deep down, it did make sense.
The nervousness in her chest had not disappeared, if anything it had doubled now that hundreds of students were watching her, but beneath it something warmer flickered too. Excitement. Curiosity. The terrifying thrill of stepping into something completely unknown.
She stood slowly as the Slytherin table clapped louder, some students cheering while others leaned forward curiously to look at her.
Amber caught sight of a few students at other tables whispering immediately after hearing her house.
That familiar feeling returned again.
Being judged before being known.
But this time, instead of shrinking away from it, she lifted her chin slightly and walked toward the Slytherin table anyway.
If she was being honest with herself, she wanted to know the truth about this house on her own.
Not the version people whispered about.
The real one.
Sorting Ceremony
╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍
She had heard enough stories about the magical school from the first holiday break that her sister, Liora told them about during dinner, but Avali was still unprepared by the grandeur of the Great Hall. It was much larger than she had anticipated, and to make matters worse, there's also noise. That sheer, overwhelming buzz of chatter and hushed conversations tangle along her surrounding that somehow suffocates her, who got used to the silence of their manor walls.
Avali stood among the first years with a perfect posture and hands folded neatly in front of her, as how it was drilled into her by her mother since childhood. Shoulders straight, chin lifted, no fidgeting. Do not embarrass the family.
Feeling hundreds stares pointed towards their direction made that uncomfortable knot tighten in her stomach, but her expression remained composed and unfazed.
"That girl—"
"Oh, my. Avazando. Her brother..."
"Pureblood, as expected."
"Her posture screams Slytherin."
She didn't know if it was just her sharp hearing or they were deliberately whispering that loud so she could hear. But Avali ignored them. Because that's what an Avazando did best.
Ignore. Endure. Maintain composure.
She kept her eyes in front of the Sorting Hat as the professors began calling names, the hat doing its job in sorting the children and the tables erupting in a loud cheer for their new house members... too much loud for her preference that she just want to seal her hearing with earmuffs.
"Avazando, Avery."
Silence ensued again, not completely but enough for her to feel hundreds of eyes dart towards her shoulder. But she remained composed and unfazed as she step towards, her polished shoes clicking softly against the stone floor as she approached the stool with grace and dignity of a pureblood. One might think of how composed and fearless she was with her calm expression, but her thoughts begged to differ.
From the corner of her eyes, she saw some of the students with green ties were already interested as if they were ready to welcome her. Slytherin... house of purebloods. Being an Avazando, it would make sense if the Sorting Hat will place her there. After all, it was all about legacy, ambition, and blood purity. It will be easy for her student life without her parents breathing down her neck on who to interact and what to do since she will be surrounded with purebloods that they only want to associate with.
When the hat was lowered onto her, it covered her vision. Then she heard it... that dry voice murmuring within her mind like it was whispering things.
"Well now, aren't you an interesting mind?"
Her body stiffened almost imperceptibly.
"Sharp mind... and a remarkable control for someone so young. All that pressure pressing down on you," the hat hummed thoughtfully. "You've been taught to fear failure."
Her folded hand curled slightly, almost unnoticed, as her eyes squinted behind the cover of the hat. 'I do not fear failure.'
"Oh, but you do," the hat replied rather calmly, seemingly amused at her denial. "And not because of pride... but because you think failure will make people disappear."
Those words echoed in her mind and Caelum's face flashed briefly in her mind... along with that night that she accidentally ended up making the chandelier shatter during the dinner and how tactless and cold they told them about his passing.
Her throat tightened.
"Hm. Clever. Incredibly clever. You hunger for knowledge, not power alone. You also question things quietly, observing things in silence, and despite everything you've been taught..." the Hat paused, "...you do not believe that superiority is determined by blood purity."
Her heartbeat stumbled... uncomfortable at how right and on point the hat was. Her silence was enough for the ancient Hat to consider it truth.
"You crave freedom more than status." The Hat mused. "Slytherin would strengthen the legacy. You will thrive there if survival is your goal..."
She waited quietly with her breath held back imperceptibly.
"But... there is curiosity in you stronger than obedience."
Wait, what?
"RAVENCLAW!"
She froze as applause erupted from the table basked in bronze and blue. It wasn't loud as if those clapping hadn't expected such thing to occur as well, but she just remained seated as the hat got removed from her head. She blinked once before standing up and heading to the table as if the result was nothing.
She didn't react, even if she saw the confused reaction of some purebloods seated in the Slytherin table. Who wouldn't be? A pureblood line like Avazando... in Ravenclaw house. It sounds scandalous for their circle. But she wasn't worried. Her family will accept this result, as Ravenclaw embodies knowledge. And what does Avazando prized more than knowledge?
But despite that, she sat on the table quietly, giving a polite nod of acknowledgement and gratitude for the warm welcome, albeit so awkwardly.
And as she watch the other students get sorted to their own respective houses, Avali felt something unfamiliar tugged away from within her chest so quietly.
It wasn't freedom to feel glee. But perhaps it was a first.
A first fracture against the laurel that shackles around her mind, body, and soul.
╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍ ╍
| Per Legatum, Perfectionem Through Legacy, Perfection |
the girl with the broken laurel, Avery Alivette Avazando |
stamina 3 | evasion 5 | strength 4 wisdom 9 | arc power 8 | accuracy 6 |
Sorting Ceremony
« Juniper Frost ». My name echoes through the hall as a proud smile lights up my face. It’s my turn.
I stride confidently toward the stage, and the Sorting Hat is placed on my head. It’s just a formality anyway: it sends me to Slytherin, and off I go. “Juniper Frost,” the Sorting Hat repeats. “Oh, I see. You want to follow in your ancestors’ footsteps and prove yourself in Salazar’s wake.” I nod, focused.
A silence falls. “...But I see something else in you. Something you haven’t even realized yourself yet.” I frown. What on earth could that mean? “You are tenacious and more loyal than anyone else. You’ll do very well in Slytherin, certainly, but... There’s another place where you’ll feel even better. It might take you a little while, but trust me, I’m never wrong about house selection.”
— Hufflepuff!
My world is falling apart.
— WHAT?! I scream across the room.
This is ridiculous. I was supposed to end up in Slytherin. Without Slytherin, I’m a disgrace to my family. But even worse, I’m in Hufflepuff. I wonder what my parents are going to do. Maybe strike me from the family tree?
My gaze unfocused, arms hanging limply at my sides, I find myself walking toward the yellow and black table, amid a thunderous round of applause.
Good evening, Helga.
I stride confidently toward the stage, and the Sorting Hat is placed on my head. It’s just a formality anyway: it sends me to Slytherin, and off I go. “Juniper Frost,” the Sorting Hat repeats. “Oh, I see. You want to follow in your ancestors’ footsteps and prove yourself in Salazar’s wake.” I nod, focused.
A silence falls. “...But I see something else in you. Something you haven’t even realized yourself yet.” I frown. What on earth could that mean? “You are tenacious and more loyal than anyone else. You’ll do very well in Slytherin, certainly, but... There’s another place where you’ll feel even better. It might take you a little while, but trust me, I’m never wrong about house selection.”
— Hufflepuff!
My world is falling apart.
— WHAT?! I scream across the room.
This is ridiculous. I was supposed to end up in Slytherin. Without Slytherin, I’m a disgrace to my family. But even worse, I’m in Hufflepuff. I wonder what my parents are going to do. Maybe strike me from the family tree?
My gaze unfocused, arms hanging limply at my sides, I find myself walking toward the yellow and black table, amid a thunderous round of applause.
Good evening, Helga.
𝔍𝔲𝔫𝔦𝔭𝔢𝔯 𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔰t
First Year — #C44141
First Year — #C44141
Sorting Ceremony
She stepped into the large, magnificent room—The Great Hall. Liyyu could barely believe what she was seeing. Thousands of candles floated above her head, and the ceiling had been enchanted to look exactly like a beautiful starry night sky. She walked alongside the other first years, nervously glancing around. Tonight, she would be sorted into the house she would live in for the next several years.
From what Liyyu knew, Hogwarts had four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. She had heard many students talking about how they did not want to end up in Slytherin. Many dark witches and wizards had come from there, and Slytherin was known for accepting mostly pure-blood students. Because of that, she never thought she would end up there herself. She was Muggle-born, after all. Slytherin rarely accepted students like her—if ever.
No matter where she ended up, she just hoped she could do her best.
One by one, the students stepped forward. The Sorting Hat would be placed on their heads before loudly announcing their house. Cheers erupted from the tables each time a house was called, making Liyyu even more nervous.
“Li, Liyyu.”
Her legs suddenly felt heavy as she walked forward under countless curious stares. The hat was placed onto her head, and soon, she heard a voice speaking quietly in her ear.
“Hm… interesting.”
“Your mind is calm, but never truly empty.”
“You observe more than you speak.”
“Careful… and quite intelligent.”
“You enjoy learning, don’t you?”
“Your curiosity is rather strong.”
“Ravenclaw would suit you well…”
Liyyu slowly let out the breath she had been holding. Could she relax now?
But the hat spoke again.
“However… there is something else.”
“You dislike being underestimated.”
“You wish to prove yourself.”
“Not openly… but your ambition is there.”
“You hide your feelings far better than most children your age.”
“Patient. Careful. Observing everything.”
Her heartbeat quickened.
What did that mean?
“C-could it be?” Liyyu stammered quietly.
“Ah… so you have heard the rumors,” the hat replied.
“You believe you do not belong there because of your blood.”
“How amusing.”
“A house is not decided by bloodline.”
“And Slytherin is not as simple as people claim.”
“You fear Slytherin… yet part of you already understands it.”
The hat fell silent for a moment, as though deep in thought.
“In that case…”
“Better be…”
“SLYTHERIN!”
Her heart seemed to drop instantly.
Liyyu walked toward the Slytherin table as polite applause greeted her, though it was noticeably less enthusiastic than the others. She sat stiffly, her heart still pounding, her palms damp with sweat.
Then, faintly, she heard someone whisper...
“Isn’t she Muggle-born?”
“Really?”
From what Liyyu knew, Hogwarts had four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. She had heard many students talking about how they did not want to end up in Slytherin. Many dark witches and wizards had come from there, and Slytherin was known for accepting mostly pure-blood students. Because of that, she never thought she would end up there herself. She was Muggle-born, after all. Slytherin rarely accepted students like her—if ever.
No matter where she ended up, she just hoped she could do her best.
One by one, the students stepped forward. The Sorting Hat would be placed on their heads before loudly announcing their house. Cheers erupted from the tables each time a house was called, making Liyyu even more nervous.
“Li, Liyyu.”
Her legs suddenly felt heavy as she walked forward under countless curious stares. The hat was placed onto her head, and soon, she heard a voice speaking quietly in her ear.
“Hm… interesting.”
“Your mind is calm, but never truly empty.”
“You observe more than you speak.”
“Careful… and quite intelligent.”
“You enjoy learning, don’t you?”
“Your curiosity is rather strong.”
“Ravenclaw would suit you well…”
Liyyu slowly let out the breath she had been holding. Could she relax now?
But the hat spoke again.
“However… there is something else.”
“You dislike being underestimated.”
“You wish to prove yourself.”
“Not openly… but your ambition is there.”
“You hide your feelings far better than most children your age.”
“Patient. Careful. Observing everything.”
Her heartbeat quickened.
What did that mean?
“C-could it be?” Liyyu stammered quietly.
“Ah… so you have heard the rumors,” the hat replied.
“You believe you do not belong there because of your blood.”
“How amusing.”
“A house is not decided by bloodline.”
“And Slytherin is not as simple as people claim.”
“You fear Slytherin… yet part of you already understands it.”
The hat fell silent for a moment, as though deep in thought.
“In that case…”
“Better be…”
“SLYTHERIN!”
Her heart seemed to drop instantly.
Liyyu walked toward the Slytherin table as polite applause greeted her, though it was noticeably less enthusiastic than the others. She sat stiffly, her heart still pounding, her palms damp with sweat.
Then, faintly, she heard someone whisper...
“Isn’t she Muggle-born?”
“Really?”
~soñar en grande~
Sorting Ceremony
Location: Great Hall | Sorting Ceremony
Word Count: 643
Notes: Thoughts
Iris's shoulders brushed with those of the other first years as the group proceeded towards the Great Hall. When they got to the gates, she felt a shudder running down her spine. That was it. Her year at Hogwarts was finally beginning. Right beyond that door were those who would've been her housemates for the next seven years, her professors, maybe even some of her future friends.
Finally, the grand doors opened, and... her breath momentarily cut off. Thousands of candles floated above her head, illuminating the big arches of the ceiling. The four tables of the four different houses were filled with chattering students and all sorts of food, and there, in front of the professor's table, there was the stool with the Sorting Hat.
Iris didn't know where she would end up. She didn't feel very brave, which probably meant she wasn't cut for Gryffindor.
I want to have straight O's. That could count for cleverness but also for ambition. She reflected. Slytherin and Ravenclaw.
Then she thought about Cecilia, her best friend. Her throat tightened. She still hadn't processed that she wouldn't have seen her for this whole year. Her one, true friend. A light breath left her lips, and she felt tears stinging. With a shake of her head, she pushed them back. She wouldn't cry there, in front of everyone.
I am loyal to Cecilia. This could also mean Hufflepluff. She thought, trying to focus on the Sorting again.
As she got lost in her thoughts, she didn't realise how quickly the Sorting was proceeding, until she heard her name called out. "Montague, Iris!"
Her eyes went slightly wide as she snapped out of her reverie. Clearing her throat lightly, she straightened her back, tilted her chin upwards and made her way through the other first years, emerging from the group.
Her knees felt wobbly as she felt all the eyes on her, and the Great Hall, which looked so huge before, now felt incredibly small. She forced herself to remain composed. One step after the other, slow, controlled breaths.
She sat on the stool, and the professor placed the Sorting Hat on her head, which covered her eyes. Suddenly, all she could feel was darkness and silence.
"Iris Montague" the Hat whispered in her head. "Let's see." Iris's grip on the stool tightened.
"You care deeply about your friends... but you've been quite lonely until now, haven't you?" Saying that the kid was surprised was the understatement of the century. She started wondering what were the limits of the Hat's magic, if it had any. Could it read her every thought and memory? Did it know everything about her the moment it had been placed on her head?
"But you also have quite the sharp, curious mind, full of questions I cannot satisfy, I fear. You'd fit right in, in Ravenclaw." For a second, it went silent.
That's it then. Iris thought, ready to hear the Hat's booming voice announcing her House.
Yet it didn't. "Mh, yes. You'd fit nicely in Ravenclaw, but it's not your House. There's something else there..." Iris felt uneasily scrutinised. "An ambition that cannot be overlooked. You have a thirst for excellence. You want to do great things, you want to be the best version of yourself you can achieve, and that would still not be good enough." It stated. "Oh yes, yes. Failure is not even an option for you. You'll thrive in the House of cunning and ambition."
For a second, Iris was disoriented by the change of heart of the Sorting Hat, but she didn't have time to process it, because the enchanted hat loudly announced, "SLYTHERIN!"
A loud cheering came from the Slyhterin Table, and as the Hat was lifted off her head, she felt a sense of belonging. Yes. She felt she would've been great in Slytherin.
Finally, the grand doors opened, and... her breath momentarily cut off. Thousands of candles floated above her head, illuminating the big arches of the ceiling. The four tables of the four different houses were filled with chattering students and all sorts of food, and there, in front of the professor's table, there was the stool with the Sorting Hat.
Iris didn't know where she would end up. She didn't feel very brave, which probably meant she wasn't cut for Gryffindor.
I want to have straight O's. That could count for cleverness but also for ambition. She reflected. Slytherin and Ravenclaw.
Then she thought about Cecilia, her best friend. Her throat tightened. She still hadn't processed that she wouldn't have seen her for this whole year. Her one, true friend. A light breath left her lips, and she felt tears stinging. With a shake of her head, she pushed them back. She wouldn't cry there, in front of everyone.
I am loyal to Cecilia. This could also mean Hufflepluff. She thought, trying to focus on the Sorting again.
As she got lost in her thoughts, she didn't realise how quickly the Sorting was proceeding, until she heard her name called out. "Montague, Iris!"
Her eyes went slightly wide as she snapped out of her reverie. Clearing her throat lightly, she straightened her back, tilted her chin upwards and made her way through the other first years, emerging from the group.
Her knees felt wobbly as she felt all the eyes on her, and the Great Hall, which looked so huge before, now felt incredibly small. She forced herself to remain composed. One step after the other, slow, controlled breaths.
She sat on the stool, and the professor placed the Sorting Hat on her head, which covered her eyes. Suddenly, all she could feel was darkness and silence.
"Iris Montague" the Hat whispered in her head. "Let's see." Iris's grip on the stool tightened.
"You care deeply about your friends... but you've been quite lonely until now, haven't you?" Saying that the kid was surprised was the understatement of the century. She started wondering what were the limits of the Hat's magic, if it had any. Could it read her every thought and memory? Did it know everything about her the moment it had been placed on her head?
"But you also have quite the sharp, curious mind, full of questions I cannot satisfy, I fear. You'd fit right in, in Ravenclaw." For a second, it went silent.
That's it then. Iris thought, ready to hear the Hat's booming voice announcing her House.
Yet it didn't. "Mh, yes. You'd fit nicely in Ravenclaw, but it's not your House. There's something else there..." Iris felt uneasily scrutinised. "An ambition that cannot be overlooked. You have a thirst for excellence. You want to do great things, you want to be the best version of yourself you can achieve, and that would still not be good enough." It stated. "Oh yes, yes. Failure is not even an option for you. You'll thrive in the House of cunning and ambition."
For a second, Iris was disoriented by the change of heart of the Sorting Hat, but she didn't have time to process it, because the enchanted hat loudly announced, "SLYTHERIN!"
A loud cheering came from the Slyhterin Table, and as the Hat was lifted off her head, she felt a sense of belonging. Yes. She felt she would've been great in Slytherin.
Sorting Ceremony
Evelyn has never known what house she would be in. Her brothers all made it into different houses, so she had not a clue where she would end up. After arriving at Hogwarts in those boats across the lake, and seeing Hogwarts for the first time, she was amazed. The castle was intimidating at best but even so, it was spectacular. She and every other first year waited outside, and before they could enter, all the other students entered. Once they were led inside, Evelyn was astounded at the size and beauty of it all. There were four tables, each of them were only a few feet away from the wall, giving people just enough space to walk around. Sitting in the seats of the tables were students (she guessed), more than she had ever seen, and that was saying a lot because she had a big elementary school. As she and all the other first year students were herded to the front of the hall, she heard someone say, “oh yeah, of course I’ll be in Slytherin. All my family has.” Soon others were whispering to their friends about what houses they would be in. Normally Evelyn is friendly and will try to make friends right away, but she was too nervous on the train to talk to anyone, same here, so she had no one to vent her worries to. Soon one of the adults came down from where they were sitting above and ahead of us, and started talking. Evelyn couldn’t follow most of his words but caught some. “Sorting hat…on head. …won’t hurt. …look into your heart and mind…” Evelyn shuddered at that, creepy. He went on about all the houses, but Evelyn knew about them all, her brothers had told her. She was waiting for her turn to be sorted. And soon what felt like hours, it was her turn. “Rogers, Evelyn!” She looked up from the ground and walked slowly and calmly up to the stool with the hat, and took it from the kid who just got sorted. She decided that whatever house she got sorted into, she was destined to be in. She set the hat on her head and waited patiently. Unlike some of the other first years, right as she felt the soft brim of the hat she heard it speak, “HUFFLEPUFF!”. She excitedly passed it to the next kid and ran to the table with kids cheering and dressed in yellow and black. She sat down at the edge and said her hellos to the kids next to her. And now she looked to the year ahead, with a smile on her face.
Sorting Ceremony
Maggie shifted nervously from foot to foot as she stood in the very intimidating great hall. There were a great number of people in the room, the adults at a table in the front, the first years with her, and the rest at great big colour coded tables. Her father had told her about the colours, they represented houses which the first years were going to be sorted into. She tried to recall the house names. There was, what was it again? Puffle-something, which was yellow and hosted the loyal and kind. There was Slythern, that was represented by the colour green and had the cunning and ambitious. There was Gryf- Gryfondor? that housed the brave and noble and had banners of red. Lastly, there was Ravenclaw (the only one with an easy to remember name) that took only the quick witted and curious. She absentmindedly wondered what would happen if someone exhibited traits of all the houses, though that thought didn’t make it very far.
The first years started being sorted and she was suddenly very anxious. Her last name was Berkeley, which was a little too close to the front of the alphabet for her nerves. She fiddled with her brand new wand, twirling like a pen in her hand, her eyes shifting across the room as she tried not to focus on the extremely important event that was about to dictate her entire future for at least the next 7 years. I’m not quite ready to be sorted she thought to herself, blinking more than normal. She didn’t know what to do, she had too much energy to be standing still. She bit the inside of her cheek, and clutched at her new robes, scrunching them in her hands.
Oh.
She was panicking.
She didn’t really know why, but she forced a couple of deep breaths as ‘Benjamin, James’ had finished his sorting (Hufflepuff, thats what it was called.) and she was called up to be sorted. She sat down, her leg shaking as the hat was placed on her head.
”Nervous, are we? No worries, it’s completely normal, though I suppose I should rule out Gryfondor…” The voice was not at all comforting to her nerves, though she did sit up straighter, trying to present herself better, lest she had already somehow failed the test.
”A very kind girl, hmm, might do well in Hufflepuff, though your ambition is nothing to scoff at either, let’s see… the hat continued talking, which is something that Maggie had previously not known hats could do. She wondered if a lot of the hats in the wizarding world could do that, or if it was just this one. The one she bought from Diagon Alley certainly couldn’t. Was it some sort of spell? How hard was the spell to cast?
As these questions filtered through her head, her anxiety momentarily forgotten, the hats chuckled and said, “Oh I know what you are, all right, RAVENCLAW!”
The blue table erupted in applause as she made her way to sit there, greeted by the students as if she were an old friend. She grinned, feeling more confident than ever before that this was going to be a wonderful year.
Last edited by Margret Berkeley on 30 May 2026, 23:09, edited 4 times in total.
Am I too soft or is the world too cruel?
Sorting Ceremony
Polly fidgeted nervously. She observed everything and understood very little. She had never seen so many people in one place! Faces: pale, ruddy, dark, freckled, pimpled, clear, green… She certainly wasn’t the only one wiggling.
She wasn’t scared, really! Her grandfather Clive had explained the ceremony to her. He was a Hufflepuff when he went to Hogwarts. She hadn’t expected to miss him so soon.
“Inkling, Polly!”
So now it was her turn at the guillotine. The faces were all turned to her. Her legs operated on their own accord. Then she was at the front, sitting on a wooden stool. The eyes in the faces reflected flickering orange light from the floating candles.
The Hat settled on her head. It slipped over her eyes, turning her vision black.
Another voice joined her own inner monologue. Schizophrenia? No, the Sorting Hat!
“Very chatty on the inside, eh?” said the Hat.
Polly shrugged. “Who isn’t?”
Had she thought that or spoken it? What did it matter?
“Many people… perfectly sane people…” replied the Hat.
“Does that make me imperfectly sane or perfectly insane?” Polly wondered.
The Sorting Hat was silent. Chills skittered down Polly’s back and arms. Her new robes were used, tight around the shoulders and liable to rip if she moved too abruptly.
What did she want? Nothing in particular. Slytherin was unlikely, given her origins and upbringing. Hufflepuff would make her grandfather proud. Her heart raced with adrenaline at the thought of Gryffindor! If she could somehow live up to it…
“RAVENCLAW!” the Sorting Hat proclaimed.
How… predictable. But it made sense, a lot of sense! A refreshing wave of clarity washed over Polly. The Hat was removed and she staggered over to her table. At least she wouldn’t be surrounded by idiots.
She wasn’t scared, really! Her grandfather Clive had explained the ceremony to her. He was a Hufflepuff when he went to Hogwarts. She hadn’t expected to miss him so soon.
“Inkling, Polly!”
So now it was her turn at the guillotine. The faces were all turned to her. Her legs operated on their own accord. Then she was at the front, sitting on a wooden stool. The eyes in the faces reflected flickering orange light from the floating candles.
The Hat settled on her head. It slipped over her eyes, turning her vision black.
Another voice joined her own inner monologue. Schizophrenia? No, the Sorting Hat!
“Very chatty on the inside, eh?” said the Hat.
Polly shrugged. “Who isn’t?”
Had she thought that or spoken it? What did it matter?
“Many people… perfectly sane people…” replied the Hat.
“Does that make me imperfectly sane or perfectly insane?” Polly wondered.
The Sorting Hat was silent. Chills skittered down Polly’s back and arms. Her new robes were used, tight around the shoulders and liable to rip if she moved too abruptly.
What did she want? Nothing in particular. Slytherin was unlikely, given her origins and upbringing. Hufflepuff would make her grandfather proud. Her heart raced with adrenaline at the thought of Gryffindor! If she could somehow live up to it…
“RAVENCLAW!” the Sorting Hat proclaimed.
How… predictable. But it made sense, a lot of sense! A refreshing wave of clarity washed over Polly. The Hat was removed and she staggered over to her table. At least she wouldn’t be surrounded by idiots.
“An adventure is only an inconvenience rightly considered. An inconvenience is only an adventure wrongly considered.” —G. K. Chesterton
Sorting Ceremony
When the door to the Great Hall opened, she was amazed. It was better than anything she’d ever seen before.
One by one, our names were called out, and we had to step forward. When the name “Walker, Emily” was called, Louise paused. She knew that girl. When she was sorted into Ravenclaw, Louise remembered where she’d met her before. Emily Walker went to the Muggle school with Louise! Although she was in her parallel class. She was snapped out of her thoughts when “Wilson, Louise” was called out, and she went up to the front.
As the Sorting hat was placed on hers head, she suddenly heard a voice: “I see… You are clever, but you are also fair, patient and loyal. I think you’d be best suited to RAVENCLAW!” Delighted, Louise stood up and walked over to the Ravenclaw table.
There Louise was greeted warmly, and hers Cousin Alma, who is also in Ravenclaw, winked at Louise. Emily sat down next to her and said, “You’re at Hogwarts too?” Apparently, she knew who Louise was. But then again, many people do, as her mum runs a pharmacy. “Yes. My mum is a witch.” Surprised, she raised her eyebrows. Then she smiled. Emily is nice, but she doesn’t like her because she insulted Louise’s best friend, May. She looked around at all the new faces who would be living in her house from now on.
One by one, our names were called out, and we had to step forward. When the name “Walker, Emily” was called, Louise paused. She knew that girl. When she was sorted into Ravenclaw, Louise remembered where she’d met her before. Emily Walker went to the Muggle school with Louise! Although she was in her parallel class. She was snapped out of her thoughts when “Wilson, Louise” was called out, and she went up to the front.
As the Sorting hat was placed on hers head, she suddenly heard a voice: “I see… You are clever, but you are also fair, patient and loyal. I think you’d be best suited to RAVENCLAW!” Delighted, Louise stood up and walked over to the Ravenclaw table.
There Louise was greeted warmly, and hers Cousin Alma, who is also in Ravenclaw, winked at Louise. Emily sat down next to her and said, “You’re at Hogwarts too?” Apparently, she knew who Louise was. But then again, many people do, as her mum runs a pharmacy. “Yes. My mum is a witch.” Surprised, she raised her eyebrows. Then she smiled. Emily is nice, but she doesn’t like her because she insulted Louise’s best friend, May. She looked around at all the new faces who would be living in her house from now on.
Last edited by Louise Wilson on 20 May 2026, 13:23, edited 3 times in total.
Louise Wilson
Ravenclaw
Sorting Ceremony
Kenneth had never been the adventurous type. At least... not like this. When it came to taming a wild horse across a deserted Highland plain, no problem, it was like drinking a glass of water. On the other hand, finding himself, at eleven years old, in a huge castle, surrounded by wizards his own age... yes, that was a bit more difficult.Great Hall, Hogwarts, Scotland
Monday 1st September 2025, evening
He didn't like to admit it, but this was the first time he'd ever left Perth and the surrounding area. Well, he had lived in France when he was little, but only for seven or eight months, and at a time when he couldn't even walk yet.
Suffice it to say, he was completely lost.
Yet, he should have been prepared: sure, his parents were Muggles, his family had always been, at least last he'd heard. But from the day he'd first expressed his magic, his parents had made the best decisions: a normal childhood, yes, surrounded by Muggle friends. But they had done their research, and one way or another, they knew this day would come. Or rather, that this letter would arrive. Kenneth reminisced about his summer as he crossed the enormous room where his future, at least for the next seven years, would be decided.
He was cooking with his mother. Behind the counter, Mungo was playing with the dog, and his sisters were drawing. In the back of the house, his father was smoking and reading the newspaper. Suddenly, a magnificent owl had come and tapped at the window. You couldn't say his mother was a witch, far from it, but she had always had a very strong connection with nature and animals. In her family's tradition, nature was sacred. She had come to open the door for the owl to give it some seeds. In return, it had given her family the famous letter. For Kenneth, the question of boarding school in England was no longer relevant... thank goodness. He hadn't wanted to go to Oxford at all.
And here he was now. Not too far from home, but far enough to feel fear and excitement gripping his heart, threatening to choke him.
So he was already quite out of breath when he boarded the wooden boats that took them to the castle. Imagine how he felt when he entered the great hall. Everything was too beautiful; he couldn't take it all in. Flying candles, a myriad of pointed hats swirling here and there... ghosts! Real ghosts!
He went to join the crowd of first-year students in front of some kind of stool... to be honest, he couldn't see very well from his place, a little to the back. What must have been a professor was calling out names in alphabetical order. Oh no... Drummond. He must be first. Sure enough, after about ten minutes, he was called: Drummond... Kenneth!
He had never been so red. He followed the directions. His country boy's gait had never seemed so clumsy... he wanted to disappear underground.
But it was no use. He sat down on what was indeed some kind of old stool, and they put a huge, heavy brown hat on his head, which folded back the tips of his ears and covered his eyes.
Mmmh... Kenneth Drummond. Muggle-born, I see... I love them, they're always so lost, even more so than the others.
And now, he was hearing voices.
No, no, it's not your imagination playing tricks on you. Wake up, my boy, listen when I speak to you. Because I see in you great kindness, great... loyalty.
Yes, perhaps? He had never asked himself the question.
A little naive perhaps, but fundamentally good... incorruptible!
Okay, he was starting to get offended.
There's only one good house for you, and that's as clear as day.
Oh?
This time, the hat didn't answer. There was even a long, very long silence. Well... it's all a matter of perspective.
The fact is that after this long silence, the hat yelled "Hufflepuff!" And Kenneth opened his eyes. He knew what he had to do. In a hurry, he pulled the hat away with his fingertips, as if afraid of hurting it. I mean, what if he... poked it in the eye?
He ran to the yellow and black table. And finally, after this first adventure in the wizarding world... he allowed himself the vital need to breathe again. And to smile.