Sorting Ceremony Pt.2

Sorting himself some pudding with careful grace, Bondrewd took elegant bites, never overindulgent, each movement precise, as if the mere act of eating was a study in discipline.

"Bondrewd!" a voice squeaked out, tinged with excitement.

He turned smoothly, a warm, practiced smile already on his face, as if expecting her.

"Good evening, Miss...?" Bondrewd said with gentle politeness, his violet eyes catching the light as he regarded the girl before him — dark-skinned, with sleek black hair braided neatly down her back, an easy grace to her stance.

"Padma! Padma Patil!" she said quickly, almost tripping over her own excitement.

Patil.Bondrewd filed the name away without a flicker of change to his expression. One of the old families. Good breeding. Good connections.

"A pleasure," he said warmly, reaching out and shaking her hand with a gentleman's ease. "You must be the illustrious twin sister of Parvati — although, if you don't mind me saying, you seem the more distinguished of the two."

Padma blushed furiously, mumbling a shy "Thank you," as she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Bondrewd gave a soft chuckle, tilting his head just slightly. "Shyness is not a flaw, Miss Padma. In fact, it's quite refreshing."

She smiled nervously, fiddling with the hem of her sleeve. "You speak so...properly. Are you from one of the old families too?"

"A family, yes," he said easily, the corners of his mouth curling up just enough to be inviting without revealing much. "Old enough, perhaps. Though I find the value of a person lies in their character more than their lineage."

He let the words hang meaningfully, studying her reaction from the corner of his eye.

Padma's shoulders straightened slightly, as if emboldened by his praise. "I—I want to do well here. Make a good name for myself."

"I'm certain you will," Bondrewd said warmly. "Few ever fail when they desire success so keenly."

He dipped his spoon back into the pudding, calm and deliberate.

Padma seemed to relax, her earlier nerves giving way to a budding trust.

"If you ever need anything, Miss Padma," Bondrewd said, lifting his gaze to meet hers fully, his voice dropping just slightly into a more joking yet conspiratorial tone, "you have but to ask."

Padma nodded quickly, her eyes shining with the unspoken promise of friendship.

Bondrewd smiled again — the perfect image of warmth.

As the hall gradually settled, the feast giving way to the slow march of time, Dumbledore rose once more, his presence alone enough to beckon the students' attention.

"Ahem — just a few more words, now that we are all fed and watered," Dumbledore began with a twinkle in his eye, earning a ripple of muted laughter across the hall.

Bondrewd leaned in slightly, his expression attentive.

"First-years should note that the Forbidden Forest is, as the name suggests, quite forbidden to all students. Quidditch trials will be held during the second week of term."The old wizard's tone remained light, until it sharpened almost imperceptibly."And finally — the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is strictly out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

The words dropped like lead into the hall, silencing even the boldest among them. Around Bondrewd, first-years stiffened instinctively, exchanging wide-eyed glances.

He, however, remained still, filing the warning away without visible reaction.Painful death? He mused internally. Curious... another puzzle the headmaster does not bother to hide.

Dumbledore straightened, the moment of tension passing like a sudden storm.

"And now, before we head to bed," he said, clapping his hands together, "let us sing the school song!"

At this, the Weasley twins grinned mischievously, while the staff at the high table visibly braced themselves.

What followed could scarcely be called a song.Every student sang their own melody at their own pace, voices colliding into a bizarre, chaotic tapestry of sound. Some rushed to the end; others, like the twins, deliberately dragged their verses into mournful dirges.

Bondrewd sang politely enough, a quiet, tuneful hum, but he spent more time observing.

Across the hall, his eyes flicked to the staff table, where most professors either mouthed along or refrained altogether.All except one.

Professor Quirrell, the nervous man in the purple turban, sang in a halting, disjointed rhythm — far slower than even the most theatrical of students. His lips trembled with every word, his hands clutching the tablecloth in a white-knuckled grip.

Not merely shy, Bondrewd mused, but frightened.

It wasn't the song that unsettled him. It was something deeper, something unseen that gnawed at the man's composure.

Curious. Very curious.He filed the detail away, the corner of his mouth twitching in faint amusement.

When at last the final, lingering note faded, Dumbledore wiped a tear from the corner of his eye, beaming.

"Ah, music!" he exclaimed. "A magic beyond all we do here!"He let the silence settle, as if honoring the invisible weight of those words."And now — bedtime."

Around Bondrewd, students began shuffling to their feet, some laughing quietly, others simply exhausted.

Bondrewd lingered for a moment longer, violet eyes following Dumbledore with keen interest.

Smiling softly, Bondrewd rose with the rest, feeling the ancient castle hum quietly around him as the first night at Hogwarts truly began.

"First years, gather around," Penelope's clear voice rang out over the soft chatter. "I'm the Ravenclaw prefect this year. I'll be guiding you to the common room. Feel free to ask questions as we go."

They set off behind her, winding their way through a labyrinth of narrow corridors, the flickering torchlight throwing long shadows across the stone walls.The passages twisted and turned with little logic, their dim, monotonous nature enough to unsettle even the sharpest mind.

"To your right, you'll see the main staircase," Penelope called over her shoulder. "It's how you'll move between floors — but mind yourselves. It tends to move when it feels like it."

As if on cue, the grinding groan of shifting stone echoed from somewhere below, underscoring her words.

They ducked through a smaller archway, leading to a steep, spiraling staircase.

"Mind your step," Penelope warned, her pace steady and sure as she climbed.

Bondrewd, for his part, moved with careful ease, quietly committing the route to memory.He marked each turn, each arch, noting where the torchlight flickered oddly, where the air grew cooler — small cues to help rebuild the maze in his mind later.

At the summit, they came to a tall pine door, its surface carved with intricate swirling patterns.In its center was a grand bronze knocker shaped like an eagle, its wings outstretched as if mid-flight.There was no handle. No keyhole.

"Ah, one last thing," Penelope said, turning back to face them with a small smile."To enter the Ravenclaw common room, you must answer a riddle. Some are easy," she added, glancing at Padma's nervous expression, "and some... well, you might be standing out here for a while."

She stepped forward without hesitation and rapped three times on the eagle's beak.

At once, the bronze bird stirred, its beak parting as a rich, disembodied voice rang out:

"I have cities but no houses,I have mountains but no trees,I have water but no fish.What am I?"

A hush fell over the group. The first-years shifted uneasily, exchanging helpless glances.

Bondrewd smiled faintly.

Before anyone else could speak, he answered, voice polite but certain:

"A map."

The eagle's beak snapped shut. With a soft, almost imperceptible sigh, the door swung open, revealing a warm blue-white glow from within.

Penelope's smile widened slightly."Very well done, Bondrewd. You'll do Ravenclaw proud."

He returned a slight, courtly bow, hiding the quiet gleam of calculation behind his warm expression.

Knowledge is the key. As it should be. He thought, stepping through into the commons.