Newcomers The Sorting ceremony 2017-2018 Closed

The freckled young boy, Levi Arthur Blount, an anxious First Year with hair like coils of auburn flames, observed the curious Sorting Hat as it blabbered and sang through the tear it sported as a mouth. Many questions crossed his mind, most of them going along the lines of, Will this hat ever shut up, and, When will I get the chance to sleep?

Indeed, Levi was beyond tired, as the day's taxing experience in Diagon Alley had drained him of most of his energy, and it didn't help that his nervousness got in the way of his attempted naps on the express! But as the Sorting Hat continued its ramblings, which he paid little attention to, he began to wonder if he could politely excuse himself from the ceremony. Perhaps he could fake an illness, and then he'd be taken to the nurse's office by a member of the school's staff, where, if fortune was by his side, his parents would be called to come and take him home. Levi has played that trick numerous times in the past, so what would be stopping him from doing it again at this very moment? Many things, Levi. Many things. But whatever. The ceremony would hopefully come to an end soon, and he'd be able to take all the naps he desired back at the dorms. Speaking of which...where in the world would they have him sleep at this place, if they didn't happen to have dorms? Would they have to ride the Hogwarts Express back home each evening, or would they have to walk out to the station to sleep in the train? Or, even worse, would they have the kids sleep in the cold dungeons, if such a thing existed within this castle? Well, it was a castle after all, so the odds of it not having one were slim.

Suddenly, a commanding voice like thunder yanked him out from his daydream. It spoke two familiar words that were more than enough to restore a great deal of the consciousness that had ebbed away in the past 30 minutes.

"Blount, Levi."

Without delay, he responded, and did just what the previous First Years did; walk up to the stool fixated at the front and center, and take a seat on it. Once he did so, the large hat was lowered onto his head, concealing the upper half of his head and obscuring his vision completely, leaving him staring at darkness. Then, he heard the same voice belonging to the Sorting Hat speak to him in his mind.

"Hm...what secrets does your beating heart hold...? What motives are planted in the abyss that is your mind? What have you given me to work with on this fine evening, Blount?" It inquired in a quiet, nonchalant tone of voice. Levi was too stunned to even formulate a thought.

"No need to fret, lad." It said as though it sensed his current state of shock. "I can see it all. As of right now, I see many ideas crossed within your complex mind, like an intricate web from a mother spider. You are a quizzical person that goes lengths just to broaden what they know...you belong in..."

A brief but uneasy pause followed its previous statement.

"RAVENCLAW!"

It bellowed the house name out loud for all to hear, and a roar of cheers rose from all of the tables, but more so from the blue-robed students. The hat was lifted from his head, his vision now fully returned, and he took note of the members of Ravenclaw house excitedly beckoning him over to their table. He obliged, sauntering towards them with an astonished expression set across his face.

This would be his new family for the next 7 years.

Charo stood in front of the sorting hat and the stool, watching as all the kids walked up to it when their names were called out. She didn't know which house she would want to be in, maybe Gryffindor? They were brave and bold, it made sense to her that she could be a part of that House. She was courageous, maybe not courageous enough though. Charo had taken a liking to Hufflepuff already, they were kind and they seemed like they were good people, even though she didn't know all of them. And friendly. She liked that. Charo couldn't say that she was always that kind herself, but she could still make it into Hufflepuff, right? The other two Houses didn't seem like options for her at all, sure, she was intelligent, but nowhere near intelligent enough to get into Ravenclaw. And Slytherin, they would do anything to get what they wanted, not exactly what you're like. "Charo García!" Charo looked up suddenly as her name was called. She gently pushed past some of the people in her way, not bothering to mutter 'Excuse me' or 'Coming through'. Charo sat down on the stool confidently, she had no reason to be nervous, the sorting hat would put her in the house that she belonged in, the sorting hat was never wrong. "A García, it isn't very often that we get one here in Hogwarts." Charo didn't say anything, she just shrugged. "Hmm, Gryffindor maybe, with the bold and the brave?" Charo shook her head very gently, "I see... well then, HUFFLEPUFF!" Charo smiled and once the hat had been taken off of her she rushed over to the Hufflepuff table.

Anyone in Aubren's family could tell you, in a straightforward way, that their soon-to-be-witch had a bright future ahead of her. Anyone from the magical word that was familiar to the Anson family could tell you that their daughter was a daring girl with high expectations set before her. Anyone who has ever met Aubren is aware of this, and so is she.

Aubren already knew what to expect when she walked into the gates of Hogwarts. She knew what to expect from the people there, the professors, and it's magic. As many other newcomers stared in awe and curiosity of the floating candles and extravagant ceiling, Aubren only looked with certainty and understanding. Her lovely mother had told her about the Great Hall many times before, stating it was where the "Magic Happens", and was even taught by her father how the magic worked, but even a bright girl like Aubren couldn't help but to keep her gaze on the starry sky the ceiling created above and not be filled with a sense of joy from the magic of it all, all while feeling certain and confident.

As she sat among the newcomers, Aubren's mind began to rush in thought. Placing her hands in her lap, she thought of how her first year would go, and how she wanted it to go. She pondered over which people she would befriend, or which classes she'd do excellent in (she hoped for all of them.) However, the more time she sat there, pondering and thinking, the more an anxiety grew inside her. She began to worry, a clear emotion that appeared onto her face. Aubren over-thought on the sorting, something her parents reminded her consistently before she left to not fret over. Yet, still, she couldn't help it. Aubren knew full well that her family was a long, long, very long line of Gryffindors. Her father's parents were Gryffindors, their parents were Gryffindors, and so on. Her mother became a Gryffindor her first year, even though she came from a family of Hufflepuffs. With this information settled in her mind, Aubren began to ask thought-provoking questions, such as what would happen if she wasn't a Gryffindor? Would her family's expectations drop in dissapointment? Would her bold and loud grandfather think little of her for not being sorted as one? She didn't know.

"Anson, Aubren!" A voice called, pulled Aubren out of her long pool of thoughts and back into reality. She felt milions of eyes staring at her as she stood, walking strongly and confidently, even though her mind raced with fear. As she made her way up the steps and sat on the lonesome stool, she tried her best to ignore the million eyes that stared silently. With her cognac colored eyes closed, she felt something be placed upon her head. She took a deep breath as the hat began to speak it's words of choosing.

"Let's see...what do we have here? The sorting hat cried out at the end, making Aubren gulp down her anxiety once more.

"An Anson...Ah, I remember your father quite well....Hm...I have put many Ansons into Gryffindor before you...Your mind is very sharp, indeed it is, Ravenclaw would be best for you...but there is something more...Bravery and Loyalty...Well, like the Ansons before you, might aswell be GRYFFINDOR!"

At the sorting, Aubren's shoulders relaxed with ease, a feeling as though someone came along and took off a bag of stones that hung on her back. She stood as the crowd applauded, scanning the hall until she discovered a table cheering loudly, a table she would assume to be Gryffindor, a place where she had longed to be.

He tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for his name to be called. Young Zedekiah Blackbourne was far too excited to finally be at Hogwarts. He's looked forward to it since the day he learned about the wonderful things being taught. He couldn't wait for his first lesson on Defense Against the Dark Arts, but of course, there was something he had to go through first: The Sorting Ceremony.

Being told what house he belonged to by an old hat didn't quite appeal to him. He was a Blackbourne, was it not obvious enough that he is going to be in Slytherin just like his grandfather was? He didn't need a hat to tell him what he already knew for himself.

Zed didn't have to wait too long, but to him, it felt like hours had passed before his name was finally called. "Blackbourne, Zedekiah!" He walked fast to the front of the room and sat on the stool, eager to hear what he already knew.

"Another Blackbourne, I see. Still keeping the line pure..." the hat commented once it had been perched on his head. Zed rolled his eyes, thinking how the hat should just get it over with. This seemed to not have gone unnoticed for the hat's next words were, "An impatient one as well. Fine. Let's get on with it then."

"Hmmm... Of pure-blood, Salazar would love to have you in his house..." Zed beamed at this, fully agreeing with the hat's words. His next few however, caused him a bit of worry. "Not very wise, definitely not one for Rowena... I see a caring side, maybe Helga's house? Ah, but there's something more than that... Above all this I see... Courage."

"This one isn't a hard. GRYFFINDOR!" the hat finally bellowed.

Zed's face fell at the decision made. What was he to tell Grandfather now? He looked towards the table of red and gold where the lions cheered for him. As he stood and walked towards his newly appointed house, he couldn't help feel the energy that emanated off of his new housemates. For the first time that evening, he couldn't help but think that perhaps, he was in the right house after all.

When Evianna's father told her about magic, she couldn't wait to go to Hogwarts. Now, slightly damp from the trip across the lake and standing among the other first years in the Great Hall, Evianna began, for the first time, to doubt her decision. There were too many people, too much noise. She didn't know where to look.

"Evianna Wilson!" the teacher with the scroll called. Evianna moved forward, occasionally stepping on toes and the hems of robes. Reaching the front, she stepped up onto the raised teacher's area and sat down on the three-legged stool. The teacher placed the hat on her head, and it began to speak. Curiously, Evianna seemed to be the only one to hear it. Ah, Evianna Wilson. Inquisitive, creative, and quite original. And what's this? Observant? And with a natural aptitude for... oh, yes, I see. It chuckled inside her mind. I think I know the right fit for you. "RAVENCLAW!"

The occupants of one of the tables burst into cheers. Evianna grinned and pushed the hat off of her head, then joined her housemates, who shook her hand, clapped her on the back, or simply nodded in her direction. She smiled, then watched the rest of the Sorting ceremony.

Thora hadn't listened to what Ava said about the Sorting Ceremony. Her sister always affected a holier-than-thou air that irked Thora no end, and besides it didn't seem evil to her to have a magical hat that could read thoughts placed atop her head, just like magic didn't seem evil. It felt much more like a gift - like an escape.

Once Thora heard the hat's song, however, she felt rather terrified. That all sounded like quite a lot to live up to for a young witch who'd just found out she was magical. What sort of madness was this? She was just eleven! She wasn't daring or cunning or intelligent, and she certainly wasn't friendly. Was she? She just didn't know, yet!

She didn't have to wait long before her name was called, however. Her knees felt as though they'd turned to water as she moved to step forward. Eyes focused on that hat - that terrible, judgemental hat - she tripped on the first step and had to catch herself with the palms of her hands. It stung, and a few people behind her sniggered, but Thora ignored them and kept going, wondering if she'd ever known her legs to feel so watery and weak.

It was a relief to have the hat settle over her eyes, though. She felt safe from the scrutiny of all of those staring eyes. And then the voice in her head... well, it wasn't as frightening as she'd imagined it to be, really. The voice had a comforting quality to Thora. She liked it. It made her smile as it sifted through her mind for whatever it searched, and it seemed to begin to ask her a question before pausing, saying a 'no... aah... I see... there it is...,' and then shouting, "Gryffindor!"

Levi was in a state of complete awe. His eyes kept glancing to the ceiling, which seemed to open up to the heavens, though he had read in one of the books that it was just bewitched to look that way. Ghosts flew around the Great Hall, greeting returning students and surveying him and the rest of the new ones with interest. It was all amazing that Levi couldn't actually believe that he was there.

Levi was no stranger to magic - his father, Killian, was a wizard after all - but Levi had never seen magic practiced so openly. He was sure if had seen more if his father's family visited them more often than just the holidays, but they seemed to shun Killian after he married Amarylis, a muggle. His father told Levi that since his family and him were pureblood they felt that by marrying Amarylis he was tainting the family line. They grew even more upset when they received news that she was pregnant, worried that their children would show any promise of magic at all.

This prompted Killian and Amarylis to move away from England - where both of their families were - and move to Scotland, where Levi was eventually born. Killian was still a wizard and practiced magic, but since he lived in a community of muggles he never did anything other than simple spells, thinking that stronger spells would make other suspicious. Of course, Levi always had a lot of questions, and even though Killian did answer some of them, he seemed to prefer for Levi to learn about it slowly - possibly so Amarylis could live the semblance of a normal life as possible, even if she did know about her husband's gift.

Killian's family seemed to warm up to Levi and his mother when he was about five. This was around the time that Levi started to exhibit magical powers, in the form of telepathy. Whenever he was around other people, if he concentrated enough, he could always tell what they were thinking or if they were hiding something from him. When questioned, he never could tell others where he received his information, only that he seemed to innately know. This was evidence that Levi did indeed have magic running through his blood and Killian's family seemed ecstatic.

After they did make somewhat of an effort but they never did want to travel to Glasgow to visit Levi and the rest of his family. According to Killian they were too used to using magic and didn't want to tone it down in the muggle city. It was for these various reasons that being at Hogwarts was so astonishing to him. He had never seen magic being used at such high degrees, and he had never seen so many kids that were like him - at least in cases of strange occurrences.

"Levi Matthews."

His name being called broke Levi out of the reverie he was in. He straightened out his robe and hat, moving towards the stool where the sorting hat stood, moving past the crowd of students in front of him. He had decided to stand at the back, completely overtaken by everything happening around him. He nodded to Professor Anderson near the hat and sat down on the stool, taking off his pointed hat so the larger hat could be placed on his head.

As soon as the hat was placed on his head it began to speak, the words ringing out in his mind. "Hmm. I haven't seen a Matthews here for years but have been wondering when one of you would show up." Levi blinked, wondering if the hat really knew his family as Matthews was a rather common last name, but even as he thought it, the hat responded. "I do know all of them. All of your family, at least on your father’s side, sat where you sit now. All of you have a certain sense about you, even if all of your family members tended to vary in their sortment of Houses."

Levi wasn't sure what to dwell on this before the hat continued. "You have a thirst to learn more the world you come from. It seems that since your father married a muggle you haven't seen as much as you'd like to." That much was true, at least Levi thought so. "But I see you also have a yearn to prove not only to yourself, but the rest of your family, that even though you're a halfblood that you can still be a powerful wizard." Levi was surprised by this revelation, as the thought hadn't really crossed his mind that much.

"It may be unorthodox, but I can see you only at one place..."

"SLYTHERIN!"

Levi jumped as the hat shouted the last bit rather than speak it to him personally. An eruption of cheers rang out from the house adorned with green and Levi stood slipping the sorting hat off his head and handing it to the Professor. "Thank you..." Levi told him, and flashing a smile he went to join his new housemates.

Welp here he was finally it would soon be his turn, soon his house would be chosen. What would it be he wondered Gryffondor home of the brave and courageous. 'No' He thought, he wasn't brave in the slightest far from it he preferred more clever methods. So maybe Slytherin, but no again he thought. Slytherin's were quite the clever bunch. However many of them were quite the snobs or at least that was the impression he had always gotten. At least from the way his parents talked about them. Then that left Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Logically those two made sense but wh-

"Quinn Healy!"

Before he could continue his thoughts further his name had been called. He sighed taking a calming deep breath. Quinn stepped up and took a seat on the chair. With a smile he carefully took the hat and put it on his head.

"Hmmm....oh another Healy. Yes quite the curious bunch...studious as well you would fit perfectly in Ravenclaw but." It paused for a moment. "Mmmmm yes...that'll do...HUFFLEPUFF!" it yelled for all to hear.

'Well that was not what I expected it all.' He thought as he slid off the chair once the hat was taken off. What did the sorting hat see in him that changed its mind of sending him to Ravenclaw like his parents before him. Quinn made his way over to the table with more questions than answers.

Max waited patiently behind the other students, remembering the tips his parents had given him once he got into Slytherin. Pick a group who looks confident; you'll be spending the next few years with these people and you can't afford someone made of all laziness and no ambition. You know what to look for. He did, indeed, and a quick look over some of the kids that had already been picked showed him some good prospects. He was so busy watching that he almost missed his name being called.

" -very! Max Avery!" The voice jolted him out of his head and back to reality, and he made his way purposefully up the stairs, expecting the process to be quick. A couple of the other kids had been sorted immediately, so he figured the Sorting Hat would barely have to touch his head before it called out the green his family was so proud of.

"Hm... Interesting. An Avery, eh?" the Sorting Hat mumbled, as if thinking to itself. Max frowned as it shifted on his head, turning him this way and that as if it couldn't decide which way to go. It was ridiculous; he was clearly Slytherin. He had the cunning, he had the ambition, and he was meant to be a leader. Why was it taking so long?

"Every hair on your head, from your eyes to your boots..." the Sorting Hat continued. Max was aware of eyes on him; he knew at least a few of the boys from the train were expecting him to join them. If this took any longer, it would make him look bad and he might lose out on the group he'd chosen while waiting in line. He closed his eyes and pictured his future; at his family's side, fighting the war against mudbloods. There, that should...

"I see! Training doesn't take the heart out of things. You'll be placed in... GRYFFINDOR!"

Max sat there with probably the stupidest expression on his face, waiting for someone to say that it was a mistake; nothing about him was Gryffindor. But a moment later he was being ushered away for the next student to take their turn and no one looked like they were laughing or trying to call him back for another choice. He made his way to the red and gold in a daze, feeling all colour drain from his face. Gryffindor. The House of mudblood-lovers and muggle-sympathizers. He was doomed.

Vincent's eyes were darting around the Great Hall, his anxiety building with each minute that passed by. Irrational thoughts filtered through his head-what if he wasn't meant to be here? What if he wasn't actually magical and all those accidental magics are a scam? What if he is actually dreaming? He swallowed, and wrung his wrist, before rubbing his clammy hands on the fabric of his robe as he struggled not to faint.

'Though...the hall looks...' Staring at the people around the hall, the food and the decoration and-the ceiling!- caused his mind to blank for a moment and struggle to find a word to describe it all, '...amazing!'

He gave himself a mental nod, that is right, the hall is absolutely amazing and if this is the hall then he is genuinely curious as to what the common room, or even the classrooms would look like. Will it look as grand as the hall? Would there be floating candles in the classroom as well? His mind are already running ahead of him, imagining what the classroom would probably look like-oh, despite his anxiety he is already getting excited for what is to come.

Vincent really wished that his father would tell him more about the school-the same one he has attended in his youth but then again, his father has always been a man of a few words-or rather none at all- and has always been contented with staying at the sidelines while Vincent explored to his heart's content.

Lost in his thoughts, he almost missed his name being called. Thankfully, a wispy projection-a ghost- floated past him, startling him and making him realize, with fear, that his name has been not only called once, but twice.

" -ender! ...Vincent Eastender!"

Yelping, he immediately scrambled towards the stool on the front of the hall; he is incredibly aware of the uncomfortable warmth on his face and the eyes of many, many students in the halls on him. Without any grace, he sat onto the stool with painfully awkward motions and stared at the sorting hat with trepidation- he has seen it talk, and it can clearly think...what if it laughs at him instead of sorting him?

As it neared him, he immediately squeezed his eye shut and his hands went to grip at the edge of the stool-he is being ridiculous, he knew it, but he really couldn't help it. Something large and almost leathery was placed on his head, and darkness came over his vision-for a brief moment, he had a irrational thought that maybe this was all a prank after all before a voice sounded-not in his ears, but he could distinctly feel it speaking inside his head.

"Hmm...let's see what we have here," His breath hitched slightly, not sure if he is supposed to reply to that.

'Hi...?' He thought, but was interrupted when the sorting hat continued as if it hasn't heard him at all, "Ah, an Eastender, I remember the last one was quite difficult to sort, but alas, it has to be done and he was sorted into Ravenclaw...now...you have quite a love for animals, don't you? Kind as well, always a good trait to have, I see that you are incredibly loyal as well-I've seen how you've helped and stayed with your dog...Slytherin is obviously out of the question, neither do you have any strong desire to pursue knowledge,"

Vincent flushed at that, unsure if he should be feeling insulted or embarrassed at having his secrets open like that-in fact, it was a bit intruding. It isn't his fault that he doesn't seek knowledge, or look for new things quite often-he is very content with re-reading the same book for the third time and going about the same old routine...

"Hmm, you could have been in either Griffindor or Hufflepuff; Griffindor with the bold and the brave or Hufflepuff with the loyal and the patient?" Vincent got the impression that the hat is deep in thought, and instinctively he twitched his cold hands in an attempt to get some blood flowing back in. He definitely don't see himself fitting in with the bold or the brave, he is certainly the opposite of being bold, or brave; he has never dared to confront anyone, and neither does he have enough courage to speak to anyone let alone do anything that is considered 'noble' or 'admirable' like those characters depicted as Griffindors in his books.

Hesitantly, he piped up, "Um, I think...I might fit in with the Hufflepuffs...I mean, I am not brave, or anything like that-I am patient, I think? Yeah, Hufflepuffs...sound better, can I please?' He cursed himself-how could he stumble over his words even when thinking? But regardless, it happened and there was a brief moment of silence before the hat stirred.

"Of course, Hufflepuff would suit you well." The hat conceded and Vincent could imagine it taking an imaginary breath before screaming-

"Hufflepuff!!

With a slight smile-excitement or just glad that it listened to him, he isn't quite sure- he pushed the hat off his head and placed it back on the stool with a murmured 'thank you' before rushing off towards the Hufflepuff table. Only then he realized how warm his face is and how unsteady he was when he accidentally knocked his feet against the chair in his attempt to look for a more secluded corner and climb onto the seat.

It is a wonder why isn't his head exploding with all the blood rushing to his head, Vincent thought, pressing the back of his hand against his cheek in an attempt to cool it down as subtly as he could.