Sorting Ceremony 2021-2022

sep. 1st| robes| n/a

The hall, well for lack of a better word, is grand. Avery felt as if she was used to grandeur, she did grow up in one of the oldest towns in the UK, but this, this was on a whole different level. The girl felt awkward in her robes, awkward in a room full of others who understand this world, some of whom even know each other.

Avery listened out as the hat sang its song, something that, in it of itself, set the girl on edge. As each house was introduced, Avery began to weigh each house, get an idea of which one she would be in.

Gryffindor; the house of the bold. Avery is not particularly bold or courageous, so that house does seem the least likely - so far at least.

Hufflepuff; the house of the loyal. Avery, to the eyes of others, it not the most loyal, but the girl often looks at her own actions through a filtered lenses, believing that, she can only do good. That being said, Hufflepuff does not seem so fitting.

Ravenclaw; the house of the wise. Now this house, this one seemed like a perfect fit. A place that valued learning and wit, a place that would remind Avery the most of her home.

Slytherin; the house of the cunning. This house, it could fit, but Avery knew, deep down that this is not the house for her.

Suddenly, Avery is pulled out of her thoughts. The older man, the headmaster, had called her name, "Gallows, Avery". The girl's head shot up and she quickly made her way to the stool. The headmaster sent her a light smile as she sat and the hat was placed on her head. Taking a deep breath, Avery began to listen.

"Avery Gallows. A smart girl hmmm, you value learning yes.... and you are quite cunning, but... ahhh, I see I see. You will be surprised with this choice but I promise you, your place is in...
HUFFLEPUFF"

Avery was well, shocked. She did not know much about how this whole, house thing worked, but while this house did not seem to be the best fit at first, watching assorted members of the house stand up and begin to clap, well it filled Avery with a sense of belonging, one she will cherish for the rest of her time here.

Daisy was on rocking back and forth on her heels out of exhilaration, nervousness, and anticipation. She was listening attentively to each word of Professor McGonagall, writing everything down in a small notebook with a pen she had brought from home.

She was very excited to know her house, and more than overjoyed to get make friends, as she didn't have any back in Cokeworth.

When they were told to wait, her head was buzzing with questions, but then she remembered the books she read about Hogwarts and magic, and calmed down.

The first years along with Daisy were soon ushered into a huge room, and she could hear people around her calling it the Great Hall, probably the purebloods whose families must have already introduced them to wonders of the Wizarding World.

As she glanced around the room, she noticed four tables, and one long table in opposite them, on which all the professors were seated. She also noticed a podium with an owl, probably for giving speeches. She then noticed a stool, on which a dilapidated hat was placed.

As she watched, the hat rose one of its lower folds on its own and started singing! It informed the students about the houses Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Then, Professor McGonagall called out names for the first years to be sorted. When 'Evans, Daisy!' was called, Daisy stepped up to the stool, anxious of the result. She then heard a voice speaking, which she assumed to be the Sorting Hat.

The Sorting Hat took a lot of time to decide Daisy's house. The other students in the hall, started whispering something about a 'hat stall". Daisy wondered what that was. Daisy though, wanted to be in a house where she wasn't noticed much, but not underestimated either. The Sorting Hat, hearing this sentence echo in Daisy's mind, shouted out, "Hufflepuff!

Daisy was relieved, and having read about the houses, she was content with her house, and was enthralled to begin her journey at Hogwarts.

It was so huge. As she entered the hall for the first time Calynn's eyes couldn't find just one place to land. There were parts she could have predicted like the food, the students, and the tables. Other aspects were far beyond the realist's imagination. Gravity didn't seem to be in effect in the hall nor did many of the forces that kept the regular world in order. Candles floated upwards towards what seemed to be an endless sky. Figures in portraits slid from frame to frame, conversing with students and amongst themselves. Being able to even lay eyes on this room was so worth the many hours she spent on the train. It looked like a dream and a nightmare all in one.

If there was one thing that Calynn had learned from the day-long train trip to Hogwarts it was that hills were incredibly boring. She had felt like a child again as she tapped her feet on the hard floor of the train compartment. It got to the point where she couldn't even focus on the worn-down pages of I Capture the Castle anymore. To be fair, the soon-to-be-Hogwarts student had read it more times than she could count but that wouldn't have been an issue normally. Her anticipation had caused her to go mad with restlessness.

Calynn drifted back to the present moment as Headmaster Lear began to speak. Was it typical for a wizard to wear armor? She didn’t see any of the other teachers wearing it so she guessed it was not. Each and every bit of his speech kept the young girl entranced. There was so much new information that she would have to remember.

She shifted her weight from her heels to her toes as she waited for her name to be called. Which house would suit her best? Calynn considered the question. She had a reputation for being a good student at her primary school so Ravenclaw was a possibility but then again Gryffindor also seemed like a good fit as well. Slytherin and Hufflepuff were also possibilities but the fit seemed off for some reason. Who knew what a sentient hat's opinion would be. It wasn't like Calynn had ever seen one let alone talked to one before.

Calynn didn’t remain guessing for long. The headmaster called out her name and placed the sorting hat on her head. It felt warm, probably from sweat, lice, and whatever else resides on the scalps of eleven-year-olds. Cleanliness was really at the bottom of her list of concerns though. All she could hope was that Hogwarts had showers.

"Hmm, I see. You share many common traits with the Slytherin house," the hat mused. It seemed to be contemplating its options thoroughly because it took its time before speaking again. "What do you intend on doing during your time at Hogwarts?"

Calynn shouldn’t have been as surprised as she was at the voice of the hat. “I want to learn all there is to know about the magical world.”

That phrase alone seemed to incite a reaction from the hat. "Ravenclaw!" it bellowed out. A rush of adrenaline ran through her body as she heard her placement. Calynn's cheeks flushed as she walked to the appointed table with her back straight, still looking around.

─────Her heart raved in its skeletal cage, a pulsating throb commenced in her ears, dimming out the clang of cutlery and whispers of curiosity. Were her eyes drying up? Wasn’t she blinking enough?

She blinked rapidly.

Had she been too lost in thought and awe to recognize the enunciation of her name? Perhaps.

Perhaps the opulence of magic she’d feasted her eyes upon, at her grandparents’ manor, was a meek introduction to the world she’d been swallowed up by.

Candles shifted high in the air, bobbing and hovering above the heads of hundreds. Candles that stayed alight, in spite of the draught that swept through the grandiose hall. Candles aloft in the glittering night sky, enraptured by gothic, and archaic, concrete walls.

Perhaps the occasional glints of golden goblets helped put her in a trance, condemning her to stay rooted amidst the throng of first years like a complete moron: deafened to her name echoing down from the something-feet long table, where the watchful faces of the professors and the headmaster had blurred out in her daze.

She swallowed hard, her throat bobbing visibly with the effort as she willed her feet to move ahead. Her ascent was ever-so-slow and excruciatingly so, a quizzical gaze skipping from face to face until she reached the bottom of the steps.

The muddy brown pointed hat twisted in its position, as if impatient with the leisured steps she was taking. In her daze, she’d lost count of the already sorted children, but with one glance cast over her shoulder, she could tell the size of the mass had diminished greatly already. Though lessened, the crowd was still an immense obstacle between herself and the door, upon which her glance lingered a tad longer than appropriate.

But where else was there to go now?

She’d endured the hours-long journey by the train, got ushered aboard the tiny, wooden boat and sat shivering and teeth-chattering in the chilly night, as she drifted across the Black Lake, side-by-side with kids whose names she’d already forgotten. Doubtful she could single-handedly traverse all the way back to London, Jacqueline forced herself to look back at the hat. It was hard to interpret its expression, with its over-grown, half-melted hershey’s kiss chocolate looking self, but it sure looked displeased with her already.

Her pace up the steps quickened, but failed her dignanty with a misstep and she just barely regained her posture before she dove face first to the ground.

‘‘There, there,’’ the hat comforted, with a lack of warmth. Nevertheless, it encouraged Jackie to proceed and claim her moment in the hot seat, as thousands had before her.

She must have missed the informative song whilst admiring the scene, and what little she knew of the four houses, she’d learned from her grandparents’ scathing critique or inspiring appraise.

‘‘ ‘Gryffindor, where dwell the conceited crazies,’ ’’ Angelique recited off-script with an exaggerated throaty tone and then continued in her usual low, almost purring voice. ‘‘Those barbaric beings lack the discipline of civilised citizen.’’ Her grandmother’s eyes burnt into her face with an icy fire. ‘‘Certainly not a house befitting for a Lapointe, lest they were the lowest of the low.’’

‘‘Hufflepuff’s and their mediocrity,’’ Philippe sighed. ‘‘Had it not been for Scamander, I doubt that house would be uttered outside those castle walls. A pitiful predicament to be sorted there, indeed. Far more useless than those bookish Ravenclaws with more eagerness for knowledge than they possess guile to use it to their advantage.’’ A corner of Angelique’s burgundy painted lips perked at her husband’s judgment.

‘‘Truly, Slytherin is where sheer power lies, isn’t it? For what is knowledge without cunning? And what is bravery without calculation?-’’ ‘‘Stupidity, recklessness,’’ Philippe interjected, but Angelique wasn’t finished. And with a satisfied sniff, she continued. ‘‘-And loyalty is merely synonymous with liability if it’s not to oneself, isn’t it? How unfortunate it is, to be excluded from such esteem, but excellence isn’t meant for everyone, is it?’’ Jacqueline had opened her mouth to object from across the table, but she knew nothing of the houses they spoke of. What valid arguments could she conjure to chide her grandparents for such a cruel choice of words?

Still. A part of her hoped for the hat to call out Slytherin. The vulnerable part that still yearned for a mother’s love lost too soon. The one that had packed most of her parents’ belongings so that she might never live a day without a piece of her mother still present with her. The part that wanted to be alike her mother.

But that part was miniscule in comparison to the part that recoiled at the thought of being similarly sorted to her grandparents as well.

She’d never want their similarities to be stated, if there were any. And yet, the hat mumbled atop her head. ‘‘What a jumbled up mind you have there...but there’s certainly some ambition there - ah yes, right there and you don’t lack drive, do you? A drive to run away from something, but a drive nonetheless, now that could take you places-’’ Jacqueline’s head inclined away, but the hat sat steadfast on her head, unwavering. ‘‘But you’re far too principled to fully give in to your cunning...and that spontaneity...some might call it recklessness, others might call it bravery.’’ Her fingers itched, nervosity eating away at her resolve as a clock ticked away in the back of her mind.

But the hat wasn’t finished, and as seconds turned to minutes, it was beginning to look more puzzled than the young witch herself that sat silently, scowling at the incoherent murmurs of the sorting hat.

‘‘Shall we take it another day?’’ Though there was a peevish and impatient lilt to her whispered tone, Jackie tried to exhale her irritation as the hat humphed at her. ‘‘I almost have you pegged, just you wai- ahh, I see, yes’’ it hissed with a sense of complacency, as though it had solved a complex equation. ‘‘Certainly another for house Gryffindor!’’

A chorus of exuberant whoops and applause erupted from the table embellished with a red and gold cloth. Her legs were stiff when she finally arose from the chair. Numbly, Jackie advanced towards them with a small smile that only seemed to widen with each step forward.

How dreadful her descent would have been, had it been towards the table where her grandparents were once seated.

The stories certainly didn't do justice to the grand hall. The enchanted ceiling with floating candles, the long tables that were bustling with life of older students and the intimidating teachers table at the other end, nothing Celeste's older brothers had told her could even hold a candle to the wonder she felt walking in.

The large group of first year students were huddled together at the foot of the steps leading up to the teachers table. Many a story had been floating around the group as they all waited for the sorting hat's song.

"Celeste Stilinski"

Celeste slowly approached to the stool, she thought back to the advice her brother teddy had told her. Be careful of what you think, for the hat might just shout it out. She thought about four houses and what her father had told her. No matter what house the hat put her in, Celeste would do wonders and meet many new people. She knew the reputation that each house had. Slytherin had the darkest wizards, if you were smart you would go to Ravenclaw, if you were brave like harry potter you would end up in Gryffindor, and if you didn't fit any of those hufflepuff would be your house.

"Hufflepuff"

The inner right table erupted into cheers and shouts, welcoming the young girl. It didn’t take long for the other first years to be sorted and for the headmaster’s welcome speech to be given. Celeste smiled when food appeared before her, just like in the stories her older brothers would tell every year. Older students aided in celeste towering her plate nice and high. The hall was full of laughter as student reunited with friends and the birth of new friendships.

Verity leapt from the Hogwarts Express in two great bounds. One leap for the eleven hours spent trapped in the car with Aunt Liv and Uncle Sean, the ferry ride, the passport checks, the unbearable silence in London’s midmorning traffic, another, happier leap for the six hours on the train, making friends, changing into her robes, admiring her wand’s grain in the sunset’s pink light. The platform was solid beneath her converse. It was real, she was at Hogwarts. She’d made it. She’d finally, finally made it.

Further down the platform, a booming voice was summoning the first years. Verity let the tide of tall, black-robed students sweep her towards it. Every so often she’d catch a flash of color between shoulders and flowing sleeves; yellow, red, blue, green. What type of trim would be on her robes for the next seven years? She couldn’t wait to find out. After some choice elbowing, Verity broke free of the older students and joined up with a group of first years heading down to their next destination.

“Boats!” Verity exclaimed, “That’s brilliant!” Now she’d have a nice, magical boat ride to erase the horribleness of the muggle ferry. She scrambled into the nearest one, sending water sloshing over the gunwales in her enthusiasm. Her boat mates weren’t thrilled about that, but she didn’t care. Verity’s whole being was focused on the smooth, dark lake. She let her hand dangle overboard, tracing little patterns and eddies in the water as her eyes scanned the horizon for any sign of the castle. All at once it materialized in front of them, a mass of turrets and towers stretching up and up into the sky, its lit windows twinkling like stars.

From that point forward, Verity couldn’t take her eyes off the castle. Her head felt like it was on a constant swivel, craning to get a better look at everything as they stumbled from the boats, up stairs, and through halls and halls of torchlit walls. When the doors of the Great Hall opened before them, Verity’s jaw dropped. Flying candles! An enchanted ceiling! Magic students, magic teachers -a magic hat! And it sang! Even though she couldn’t bring herself to listen to the whole song -there were too many things to stare at, golden plates and pointed hats -she joined in with the older student’s applause once it was over, eager to be a part of any school tradition she could find.

And then it started, the actual sorting. Verity clapped along after each of the A surnames learned their new houses, then the B’s, and then the C’s. As the first D’s made their way up to the stool, Verity realized with a start that she had no clue where any of the friends she’d made so far had gone, or if they’d taken their turns at all. Every last one of their names had flown straight out of her head, just, poof, gone. That was embarrassing. Hopefully they’d understand. It wasn’t every day you saw your first singing hat, after all.

“Doran, Verity!”

Oh, wow, that had gone fast. Verity got to the stool so quickly that it felt like her feet hadn’t even touched the ground. It was as if she’d flown there, buoyed by excitement and nerves and an overwhelming sense of belonging. This was where she belonged, no matter what color wound up appearing on her robes tomorrow morning. The hat fell over her eyes, blotting out every bit of light. Verity instinctively took a big gulp of air and held it, feeling almost like she’d dunked her head beneath the lake’s rolling water. Any minute now -

“Ah, they’ve sent me another one.” A low voice nudged alongside Verity’s thoughts. She started, grabbing handfuls of her robes to keep herself from tipping over. Another what? Irish person? Kinda a weird thing to bring up, but, whatever. Or maybe he knew she was an Aquarius. That seemed like the sort of stuff magic people-slash-sentient-hats would keep track of.

The space behind her ears vibrated with a chuckle only she could hear. Goosebumps raced up Verity’s arms as the whisper returned. “Bold, aren’t we? First on your feet, first to lend a hand, raise a voice. As loyal as you are relentless. No doubt where you’re meant to be. Take your warrior’s heart to GRYFFINDOR!”

Light broke over her like a wave as the hat was whisked from her head. The breath rushed from her lungs, first as a laugh, then a rising whoop that blended with the cheers of table on the far side of the hall. A house! Her very own house! Verity raced off to join the Gryffindors, certain she couldn’t have asked for a better place to be.

Calypso Speaking
Others Speaking

After arriving at Hogwarts, Calypso walked into the great hall, not quite sure what to expect. After being told about the qualities of each house, she was sure she belonged in Ravenclaw.

She waited for quite a while, and then the name ”Atlas Castellanos” was called. He went up, and the hat was placed on his head. It wasn’t too long when the hat called out ”RAVENCLAW!” One of the tables cheered, so Calypso smiled at Atlas, though she did not feel the same on the inside. Clearly that was where the two of them belonged. That table, with the blue and silver ties everyone was wearing.”Calypso Castellanos”. Her name was called, and she stepped up and the hat was placed of her head.

I know where I belong. She thought, and closed her eyes. ”Do you know? Is it where your brother is now seated?” She nearly screamed. The hat could read her thoughts, and had no trouble announcing them to the whole school. Stay calm. It’s all going to be fine. She waited, then the hat spoke again: ”How do you not see it, child? You don’t belong there, Oh No. ”Do you?” Please. ”You belong in…” The hat paused. ”GRYFFINDOR!”

Oh no. What am I going to do.

Post layout and graphics by Calypso Castellanos

Backdated: September 1, 2021
Words: 290

Therese didn't understand why she was nervous. Surely, her brothers would've told her prior if the sorting involved anything too difficult, right? Those two were beyond overprotective. There was no way they'd let her go in blind if that were the case. It was just impossible. While she might believe some of her cousins capable of going that far, it was simply unbelievable with regard to her elder brothers - especially the eldest, who tended to treat Therese as if she were made of glass.

The blue-eyed brunette had been so lost in thought that she almost hadn't heard the singing. She did, though, and she couldn't help but be grateful. It was a hat...a singing hat...that would be determining their Hogwarts houses.

It wasn't all good, though. While the appearance of the hat provided some needed reassurance, the song that it had sung most certainly didn't. The words about Gryffindor alone made her a bit nervous. While she, herself, didn't think too badly of the house, Therese couldn't help but remember the words of her parents and brothers - all of whom had been sorted into Ravenclaw...same as most of her ancestors.

Soon enough, though, she heard her name get called. As there were not too many people who would be sorted after her, Therese took a deep breath as she made her way to where the sorting hat was placed upon her head.

"A Williamson, eh? I know just what to do with you...wait, no...you won't fit there. Your family may have been full of eagles, but you belong..." The hat paused for a second before calling out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Well, she supposed her brothers might have had a point about her being too reckless for her own good.

There was something wrong about this entire process. This sorting of children into specified, predetermined groups based on the characteristics gleaned from one's heart and undeveloped mind by a sentient hat. A life predetermined at the age of eleven. A mind not fully formed, a personality not fully cultivated but apparently the man that he was about to be already determined. How utterly fatalistic. How cruel.

He would listen as the adults prattled on and gave their speeches, of proud tradition that was in truth as thoughtless as the divisions made. A house full of the loyal, yes an admirable trait. A house full of the wise, the greatest scholars combined in one space... likely pretentious but alright. A house of the brave. The what? The brave? As in those that would rashly pursue their own end for the sake of their ego, not particularly moralistic according to the claims. Should it not be the house overfilled with pride. Pride flavored children. And then Slytherin, apparently some children come in an evil flavor also. A shame, green robes for the "cunning" what a trait to have, like a scarlet letter warning others to not trust them for they have ambitions and aspirations. Not much of a trait really, ends not yet met so they could only aspire as they have already failed or lack the means to achieve their goals. A sad state, a broken system. What could the boy expect?

He would be called to the front of the great all, his surname for some a bit of a struggle. His pale features and platinum dyed hair stood in stark contrast to the plain, dark robes that he wore that were of course his size but felt as if they were two sizes too large. He would don the tattered hat that has been placed upon dozens of other heads that very same day, the staff apparently unafraid the the potential health hazard that this posed and the hat would speak. The hat would prod. It was invasive, intrusive, the mutterings and the musings as the great sorter of destinies chose for me mine.

...Ravenclaw.

T'was to be that sort of cliche. There was no disappointment, it was better than the expectation that I was to toil, to aspire to ends he lacked the skills to achieve or the prideful willingness to give my life away for a cause of his limited choosing. He muttered his thanks, there were no words that could fully express his actual sentiments - a mixture of relief and something else.

She was excited by the prospect of the sorting ceremony. There was something romanticized about the concept of being put in the place where you belong. To be among peers. To perhaps find true love. Yes, girlish, juvenile thoughts of boys and friends, of late night giggling with the girls and braiding one another's hair. Of late evenings in the common room warmed by the fire and a cute boy. Yes, she was a teenager and that was a part of the fantasy.

Her name would be called and she expected Ravenclaw. The clever house and she was a clever girl. She owned books. She even read them! She equated books with intelligence but really all books were was a measure of literacy and Mezmarat was literate. The hat was placed on her head and she waited with nervous anticipation. Her face beaming until she heard it's terrible declaration: Ravenclaw. "Why Gryffindor?" She wailed as the pointed hat was taken from the top of her head.

She felt as if she was punched in the gut as she wandered towards her fellow... lion. She did not belong here, not with them. Did they even know how to read! "Worst day ever..."