Chapter 50: A Delayed Sorting!
At the front of the Great Hall,
the teaching staff sat in dignified silence.
Seated in the very center, Albus Dumbledore wore purple robes, his silvery-white hair and beard neatly groomed. Behind the half-moon spectacles, his gentle eyes observed all the new students.
For a moment,
Ian's eyes met Dumbledore's—and Dumbledore responded with a slight wink.
"This is my favorite time of year."
The person who spoke was Filius Flitwick, current Head of Ravenclaw House. Though small in stature—like a dwarf—his diminutive size didn't diminish his formidable mastery of magic.
"Such energetic children. I wonder how many will come to our house,"
added Pomona Sprout, Head of Hufflepuff House. Appearing rather like a kindly homemaker, she now watched the line of arriving first-years with a warm, expectant smile.
"The Sorting Hat will decide for them,"
said Minerva McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor. Of all the professors, her expression was the most stern, her lips pursed with a sort of deputy headmistress-like intensity.
Of course,
those who knew her understood that her strict exterior concealed a caring and gentle heart—one that gave her even greater esteem among students than the current staff member leading them: Head of Slytherin House,
Severus Snape.
"Stand in a line here, in the center."
He indicated an open space in the middle, spitting out his order as though it physically pained him. His abrasive tone had already left a deep impression on many of the new students.
They all followed his instructions.
"Professor Snape, thank you for handling this."
Professor McGonagall waited for Snape to take a seat at the staff table. Then she stepped toward the battered Sorting Hat set atop a four-legged stool. Nearly all the first-years looked at her with mounting nervousness.
"Are we really going to fight a troll?"
"I heard we have to capture a basilisk chick."
"That's nonsense—my dad told me the test is spending time locked in a room with a Veela."
…
With Snape no longer there to loom over them, the small wizards huddled in whispers, swapping their wild guesses about the "exam."
Throughout the majestic hall,
older students filled four lengthy tables, each adorned with the colors of its respective house. Candles hung suspended overhead, their magical flames flickering brightly.
Aurora kept glancing up at the ceiling.
Seeing the Sorting Hat seemed to have lessened her tension from a moment ago.
"What are you looking at?"
Ian, for his part, could hardly hide his own excitement.
"Why isn't the candle wax dripping down?"
the German girl murmured softly, sounding faintly disappointed.
"Maybe they forgot to include that extra bit of realism when they enchanted them,"
Ian ventured, equally astonished by the way those floating candles seemed never to burn down.
"Makes sense."
Aurora nodded.
"Don't worry—once I learn Alchemy, I'll fix that flaw for them,"
Ian said, brimming with enthusiasm. He still had the latest assignment from Professor Mara tucked in his trunk.
"Have you always been this…wicked?"
Aurora asked, clearly taken aback.
"That's a good question,"
Ian replied, genuinely pondering for a moment. Aurora blinked in disbelief, her eyes widening as she stared at him with an expression of pure incredulity.
"Quiet, please!"
Right then,
Professor McGonagall's resonant voice broke through the hall.
Atop the four-legged stool, the Sorting Hat began to stir, revealing a makeshift mouth and eyes. Amid the gasps of astonished first-years, it burst into song—one that likely embodied something of Gryffindor's own dramatic spirit:
***
In Hogwarts' ancient, hallowed hall,
I sing anew this solemn call.
Of wisdom and of courage fair,
Each heart finds its future there.
Oh, young minds of boundless dreams,
Will you bear Gryffindor's bright flames—
Burning with courage, hope, and gleams?
Or Slytherin's depths, so cunning yet grand—
Its shining ambitions guiding your hand?
Perhaps Hufflepuff's devotion, as warm as the sun,
Where trust and kindness intertwine as one.
Or the eagle's wings in Ravenclaw's sky,
Where your brilliant mind shall freely fly.
Hear my words; heed my silent quiver. I'm the Sorting Hat—
I never err, not now, not ever.
If your spirit is just and resolute,
Gryffindor's fire will fiercely salute.
If your mind hungers for truth to uncover,
In Ravenclaw's domain you'll roam and discover.
If you cherish friendship's precious grace,
Hufflepuff's fields shall welcome your pace.
If subtle schemes fill your secret desire,
Slytherin's waters will reflect your aspire.
No matter the path you ultimately choose,
Young heart, let me guide—no need to refuse!
***
The song rang out boldly.
Yes…boldly would be one word for it. Ian suspected its tune partially reflected Gryffindor's original "artistic" inclinations. Who knew why Dumbledore looked so enchanted while listening?
"Clap, clap, clap!"
Many students applauded politely.
As the applause ebbed,
Professor McGonagall, holding a scroll of parchment, positioned herself beside the Sorting Hat—while nearly every first-year watched her intently.
"Grace Allison!"
The first name she called out.
Ian observed a freckle-faced girl freeze in panic, only going forward after a couple of gentle nudges from the students next to her. She fumbled her way over to McGonagall.
"What…do I do?"
The girl looked clueless.
"Just sit on the stool,"
Professor McGonagall explained kindly.
"Hufflepuff!"
Once the Sorting Hat was placed on the girl's head, it only took a brief moment before its booming announcement rang out. With that, everyone finally understood how the Sorting truly worked.
Many first-years breathed sighs of relief.
A few, however, looked rather disappointed.
Among them,
the boy who had babbled about "spending time in a room with a Veela" seemed downright crestfallen.
"Mian Agarfus!"
Another first-year ran up.
Moments later,
the Sorting Hat sent him to Gryffindor. One by one, students were called by name, then guided to their respective Houses by the Hat's booming declarations.
"Aurora…Grindelwald!"
When McGonagall spoke that name,
the hall, previously abuzz with cheering and chatter, plunged into near-total silence. There were faces of shock and disbelief all around.
Some confused first-years hurriedly asked those beside them who Aurora was, only to pale at the whispered explanations.
"What?!"
Among the new students, Daphne—who had been chatting with acquaintances—now looked the most rattled of all. Her eyes filled with horror as she watched the calm, platinum-haired girl next to Ian walk forward.
At that moment,
no other sound reached Daphne's ears. The hall, the other voices, the flickering candles—everything seemed to blur as her mind buzzed in panic.
"I'm done for!"
Recalling her sneers and derision on the boat ride earlier, Daphne felt dizzy, yet her thoughts gained a sharp clarity.
"My whole family is finished!"
Yes,
her thinking had never been clearer.
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