Chapter 14: The Sorting Hat's Dilemma

The boats glided across the obsidian surface of the Black Lake, their lanterns casting ethereal halos on the water. Kael leaned forward slightly, taking in the magnificent silhouette of Hogwarts Castle against the night sky. The sight stirred something within him—a sense of belonging, of destiny. This was where generations of Stormbanes had honed their craft, where his ancestors had left their mark on wizarding history.

"It's magnificent, isn't it?" Hermione whispered beside him, her eyes wide with wonder.

Kael turned to her with a warm smile. "More than I imagined. And I have a rather vivid imagination."

Their boat rocked gently as they approached the underground harbor. The other first-years in their boat—a nervous-looking boy named Neville Longbottom and a quiet girl with copper hair—were too awestruck to speak. In the boat ahead, Kael could see the distinctive red hair of Ron Weasley sitting beside a boy with unruly dark hair and glasses—Harry Potter, no doubt. Kael observed him with interest but maintained his distance, remembering Dumbledore's letter about the boy's significance.

As they disembarked, Hagrid led them up a passageway carved into the rock, emerging onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. Kael felt a subtle magical resonance as they climbed the stone steps and gathered before the enormous oak front door.

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times. The door swung open immediately, revealing a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes. Her stern face and piercing gaze swept over the first-years with an assessing look that seemed to take in everything at once.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

As they followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor, whispers began to ripple through the group of first-years.

"That's him—that's Kael Stormbane!"

"The one who created the werewolf cure?"

"I heard he got an Order of Merlin before he even came to Hogwarts!"

Kael maintained a composed expression, having grown accustomed to such reactions, though he never fully embraced the attention. He caught McGonagall's gaze briefly lingering on him, a flicker of curiosity crossing her features before she returned to her professional demeanor.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall addressed the first-years. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses."

As McGonagall explained the house system, Kael's mind wandered to the Stormbane legacy at Hogwarts. His ancestors had been distributed across the houses—Renz in Slytherin, Matthew in Gryffindor, Vaughn in Ravenclaw. Where would he find his place?

"I shall return when we are ready for you," Professor McGonagall said. "Please wait quietly."

The moment she left, the whispering intensified. Kael found himself at the center of attention, with curious eyes darting in his direction.

"Still enjoying all the fame, Stormbane?" came a familiar drawling voice. Kael turned to see Draco Malfoy approaching him, flanked by two burly boys who looked more like bodyguards than students.

"Draco," Kael greeted with a good-natured smile. "Good to see you again. I see you've found some friends already."

Draco's expression flickered between pride and uncertainty. Their meeting at Madam Malkin's had left the Malfoy heir visibly intimidated by Kael's reputation, though he had tried to hide it behind his usual haughty demeanor.

"This is Crabbe and Goyle," Draco said, gesturing to the two large boys. "Their families have been aligned with the Malfoys for generations."

"Allies are important," Kael agreed cordially. "But so are genuine friendships." He extended a hand to each of the boys, who looked surprised by the gesture. "Pleasure to meet you both."

Draco seemed unsure how to respond to Kael's easy confidence and lack of pretension. Before he could reply, several students screamed. About twenty ghosts had streamed through the back wall, pearly-white and slightly transparent. They appeared to be arguing but paused when they noticed the first-years.

"New students!" exclaimed a fat monk's ghost. "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

A few students nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

As the ghosts conversed with the awestruck first-years, one particularly regal-looking spirit with an Elizabethan ruff glided toward Kael. The ghost paused, studying him with translucent eyes that widened slightly.

"A Stormbane returns to these halls," the ghost said, his voice echoing strangely. "I remember your ancestor Vaughn—brilliant mind, power like a typhoon barely contained. The castle walls still remember his final duel."

Kael inclined his head respectfully. "It's an honor to walk where my ancestors once did, Sir Nicholas."

The ghost looked pleased to be recognized. "We shall watch your progress with great interest, young Stormbane."

Draco observed this exchange with a mixture of envy and fascination. Even the ghosts treated Kael with deference.

"Move along now," came Professor McGonagall's sharp voice as she returned. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

The ghosts floated away through the opposite wall. McGonagall instructed them to form a line and follow her. Kael fell into place behind Hermione, who was whispering every spell she'd learned under her breath.

"Relax," he murmured to her. "The hat simply looks into your mind—no spells required."

She turned to him with wide eyes. "You're certain?"

"Absolutely. Just be yourself—that's more than enough." He winked playfully. "Trust me, if the hat could be influenced by spell knowledge, I'd have memorized the entire library."

His jest had the intended effect—Hermione's shoulders relaxed as she laughed softly. "You probably already have," she whispered back with newfound confidence.

The Great Hall was magnificent—thousands of candles floating in mid-air over four long tables where the rest of the students sat. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers sat. Professor McGonagall led the first-years there, so that they came to a halt facing the other students, with the teachers behind them.

Kael's gaze drifted upward to the velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

"The enchantment uses a complex variant of the Caelum Reflecto charm," Kael added quietly. "Combined with a perpetual maintenance spell that adjusts to weather conditions. If you look closely at the eastern corner, you can see the magic shimmering slightly where the enchantment anchors to the stone."

Hermione looked upward, then back at him with newfound respect. "That's not in Hogwarts: A History."

"No," he replied with a wink. "That's in Architectural Enchantments of the Middle Ages. I'll lend you my copy if you'd like."

"I'd love that," she replied earnestly.

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool, she put a pointed wizard's hat—patched, frayed, and extremely dirty. The hat twitched, a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and the Sorting Hat began to sing.

As the hat's song concluded to thunderous applause, Kael felt a peculiar sensation—as if the hat had been looking directly at him during certain parts of its song. He shook off the feeling as Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

The sorting proceeded alphabetically. Kael observed each student's reaction with interest, noting how some were sorted almost instantly while others took longer. He watched as Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor after nearly a minute with the hat, and as Draco Malfoy was instantly placed in Slytherin. When their eyes met across the hall, Kael gave Draco an encouraging nod, which the blond boy returned with a hesitant half-smile.

When Harry Potter's name was called, the hall erupted in whispers. Kael observed with interest as the boy who had survived Voldemort's attack sat nervously under the hat for quite some time before being declared a Gryffindor.

The crowd thinned as the alphabet progressed. Finally, Professor McGonagall called, "Stormbane, Kael!"

The Great Hall, which had maintained a steady buzz of whispers throughout the ceremony, fell into a hushed silence. Even the professors at the high table seemed to lean forward slightly. Kael felt hundreds of eyes tracking his movement as he walked confidently to the stool. Before the hat descended over his eyes, he caught sight of Albus Dumbledore watching him with that same intense curiosity he had sensed in their correspondence.

The last thing Kael saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was Fred and George giving him enthusiastic thumbs-up from the Gryffindor table. They had clearly been hoping he would join them.

"My, my," said a small voice in his ear. "What have we here? A Stormbane... it has been some time since I've sat upon the head of your bloodline."

You remember my ancestors? Kael thought.

"Remember them? How could I forget? Renz with his thunderous ambition, Matthew with his courage like wildfire, Vaughn with his brilliant mind... each a challenge to place. But you, young Stormbane, you may be the most difficult yet."

Why is that? Kael asked, genuinely curious.

"Because you embody the best qualities of all the houses in equal measure," the hat replied. "You possess courage and daring that would make Godric Gryffindor himself proud. Your mind is sharp and creative—Rowena Ravenclaw would have been delighted to claim you. Your loyalty to those you care about runs deep, a trait Helga Hufflepuff valued above all else. And your ambition and resourcefulness would impress Salazar Slytherin greatly."

Kael remained silent, allowing the hat to deliberate. He had no strong preference, trusting that the hat would place him where he would thrive.

"Interesting," the hat continued. "Most students your age would be begging for one house over the others by now. Yet you approach this with an open mind. Very mature... very Ravenclaw of you."

I trust your judgment, Kael thought. Each house has produced exceptional wizards.

"Indeed! Yet where to put you? You could lead Gryffindor to glory with your natural charisma and bravery. In Slytherin, your ambition would find fertile ground, and your name carries weight with those families. Hufflepuff would benefit from your sense of justice and fairness. And Ravenclaw... ah, your mind is truly extraordinary, even by Stormbane standards."

The hat fell silent for a moment, delving deeper into Kael's mind. The Great Hall remained hushed, the silence growing more pronounced as the seconds ticked by. One minute passed, then two, then three.

"You've created new spells at nine, cured lycanthropy at ten," the hat mused. "Your potential is staggering, yet you remain grounded. You value knowledge not for prestige but for the good it can bring. You seek to understand magic at its deepest levels, to innovate rather than simply master what already exists."

Four minutes had now passed. Kael could hear faint whispers starting again in the Hall. He was approaching what wizards called a "hatstall"—when the Sorting Hat takes more than five minutes to decide.

"Where do you see yourself, young Stormbane?" the hat finally asked. "Not what you want, but where you believe you will fulfill your extraordinary potential?"

Kael considered the question carefully. I want to push the boundaries of magical knowledge. To discover, to create, to understand the very essence of magic itself. I want to use that knowledge to help others, to solve problems thought unsolvable. And I want the freedom to forge my own path, unburdened by expectations.

"Then it must be RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted the last word for the entire hall to hear.

The Ravenclaw table erupted in thunderous applause, many students standing as they cheered. Professor Flitwick, the tiny Charms teacher and Head of Ravenclaw House, actually fell off his stack of cushions in excitement. As McGonagall lifted the hat from Kael's head, he saw Dumbledore applauding with a knowing smile, as if the result had confirmed something he had suspected.

Kael made his way to the Ravenclaw table, where older students eagerly made room for him. He glanced over at the Gryffindor table, catching Hermione's eye. She gave him a small, disappointed smile, which he returned with a warm grin and a subtle nod that promised their friendship would continue regardless of house affiliation. Fred and George were making exaggerated gestures of despair at losing him to Ravenclaw, which made Kael laugh.

"We've got Stormbane! We've got Stormbane!" chanted some of the more enthusiastic Ravenclaws.

A tall, dignified prefect with a shining badge extended his hand. "Welcome to Ravenclaw,

Stormbane. I'm Robert Hilliard. It's an honor to have you in our house."

"The honor is mine," Kael replied, shaking his hand firmly. "My ancestor Vaughn was a Ravenclaw. It feels right to follow in his footsteps."

"The Crimson Tempest himself," nodded an older girl with long dark hair. "His portrait hangs in our common room. I'm Penelope Clearwater, also a prefect. If you need anything, just ask."

As the sorting continued, Kael observed the remaining students being placed in their houses. When the ceremony concluded, Dumbledore got to his feet, beaming at the students with his arms opened wide.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

As food appeared magically on the golden plates, Kael grinned. Dumbledore's eccentric genius was exactly as his parents had described.

"Is he a bit mad?" asked a first-year boy sitting across from Kael.

"Brilliant minds rarely conform to conventional standards of sanity," Kael replied, helping himself to roast beef. "Those four words actually reference the four houses in a rather clever way, though I doubt many noticed."

"How so?" asked an intrigued third-year girl.

"Well," Kael began, his eyes twinkling with mischief, "Nitwit could refer to the stereotype that Gryffindors charge in without thinking. Blubber might allude to the misconception that Hufflepuffs are soft. Oddment suggests Ravenclaws' supposed eccentricity, and Tweak implies Slytherins' tendency to manipulate situations." He grinned. "Of course, Dumbledore's brilliance lies in challenging these oversimplifications through humor."

This sparked immediate interest from his fellow Ravenclaws, who leaned in as Kael elaborated on his interpretation of Dumbledore's cryptic words. Before long, he was engaged in a lively discussion about magical theory with students from various years, all eager to hear the perspective of the young prodigy.

"Is it true you developed a cure for lycanthropy?" asked a shy-looking second-year girl.

"The Lykathos Draught, yes," Kael nodded. "Though I wouldn't have succeeded without building on the research of many brilliant minds before me."

"Could you tell us how you did it?" another student pressed eagerly.

Kael took a sip of pumpkin juice before responding. "It began with a chance encounter, actually. I met a young werewolf at St. Mungo's—a child no older than seven who was suffering from the monthly transformations. The pain in his eyes..." Kael paused, his expression momentarily shadowed. "It affected me deeply. I couldn't accept that there was no cure."

The students around him listened with rapt attention as he continued.

"The breakthrough came when I realized previous researchers were approaching lycanthropy as a curse rather than a magical infection that rewrites a person's essence. By combining elements of transmutation potions with lunar-sensitive ingredients and stabilizing them with arithmantic formulations based on the lunar cycle, I created something that could reverse the foundational magical changes without harming the patient."

"That's incredible," breathed an older student. "And you were only ten?"

Kael smiled modestly. "Age is just a number when it comes to magical innovation. The werewolf child I mentioned? He was the first to receive the completed cure. Seeing him realize he wouldn't have to transform again—that moment made all the sleepless nights worth it."

As the feast progressed, Kael found himself genuinely enjoying the company of his new housemates. Ravenclaws, true to their reputation, asked thoughtful questions and engaged in intellectual discourse rather than simply fawning over his achievements. It was refreshing after months of being treated like a curiosity by the wider wizarding world.

Between discussions of magical theory and Hogwarts traditions, Kael cast occasional glances toward the staff table. Professor Flitwick, his new Head of House, kept looking his way with barely contained excitement. Dumbledore observed the room with twinkling eyes, pausing momentarily whenever his gaze passed over Kael or Harry Potter. And then there was Professor Snape, whose dark eyes narrowed slightly whenever he looked in Kael's direction—not with hostility, but with a calculating assessment that suggested he was already forming opinions about the Stormbane heir.

When dessert appeared, Kael helped himself to treacle tart while explaining a particularly complex element of his published spellbook to a captivated sixth-year.

"The key innovation in the Ventus Salto wasn't the wind manipulation itself, but rather the way the spell interacts with the caster's intent. Most movement charms are binary—they either work or fail. By incorporating a fluid response matrix in the spell architecture, Ventus Salto adjusts its strength based on the caster's mental direction."

"That's post-N.E.W.T. spell theory," the sixth-year said, impressed. "Most adult wizards don't grasp those concepts."

Kael shrugged with a modest smile. "Magic is intuitive if you approach it without preconceived limitations. My parents always taught me that understanding the 'why' behind a spell is as important as mastering the 'how.'"

As the feast concluded, Dumbledore rose once more to give a few start-of-term announcements, including a warning about the forbidden third-floor corridor. Kael noted this with interest, filing it away for future consideration. When the headmaster finally dismissed them, Robert Hilliard stood to gather the Ravenclaw first-years.

"First-years, follow me! I'll lead you to Ravenclaw Tower," he called out. "Stay together now!"

As they filed out of the Great Hall, Kael found himself walking beside a petite girl with copper hair who had been in his boat crossing the lake.

"I'm Lisa Turpin," she introduced herself shyly. "Your spellbook is brilliant. I practiced Luminous Minor all summer—it's much more efficient than Lumos for reading at night."

"I'm glad you found it useful," Kael replied warmly. "That was exactly the purpose—creating practical magic that enhances everyday life. If you'd like, I could show you a few variations I developed after publication."

Lisa's eyes widened. "Really? That would be amazing!"

Their conversation continued as the group climbed higher through the castle, ascending a spiral staircase in one of the towers. Finally, they reached a door with no handle or keyhole, only a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.

Robert Hilliard turned to address the first-years. "This is the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower. Unlike other houses, we don't use passwords. To enter, you must answer a riddle. If you answer incorrectly, you must wait for someone else to get it right. It ensures we all learn."

He turned to the knocker, which immediately came to life.

"I speak without a mouth and hear without ears. I have no body, but I come alive with wind. What am I?" the eagle asked.

Robert smiled at the first-years. "Would anyone like to try?"

Without hesitation, Kael stepped forward. "An echo," he answered confidently.

"Well reasoned," replied the knocker, and the door swung open.

The Ravenclaw common room was a wide, circular room with graceful arched windows set into the walls, offering spectacular views of the surrounding mountains. The ceiling was domed and painted with stars, which were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. Tables, chairs, and bookcases curved gracefully along the walls, and a statue of Rowena Ravenclaw stood beside a door that presumably led to the dormitories.

But what immediately caught Kael's attention was a portrait hanging prominently on the wall opposite the entrance. It depicted a stern-faced wizard with storm-gray eyes and an aura of barely contained power. Though the coloration was muted with age, hints of crimson in the magical energy surrounding the figure gave away his identity.

"Vaughn Stormbane," Kael murmured, approaching the portrait with reverence.

The painted figure stirred, dark eyes focusing on Kael with sudden intensity. "Another Stormbane comes to Ravenclaw," the portrait observed, his voice deep and resonant. "You have the look of Azrael about you, yet I sense Selena's temperance as well."

The other first-years gasped, not having expected the portrait to speak. Even the older students paused to watch the interaction.

"It's an honor to meet you, ancestor," Kael said with a respectful bow. "Your achievements have inspired generations of our family."

Vaughn's portrait studied him closely. "Your magic is strong—perhaps stronger than mine was at your age. Use it wisely, young Stormbane. Knowledge without wisdom is a storm without direction."

"I will remember that," Kael promised solemnly.

Robert cleared his throat, drawing attention back to himself. "As you can see, Ravenclaw house has a proud history of extraordinary wizards and witches. Now, let me explain a few house traditions before you head to your dormitories..."

As the prefect continued his welcome speech, Kael felt a profound sense of belonging. The Sorting Hat had chosen well. Here, among those who valued knowledge and creativity, he could explore the depths of magical innovation while forming friendships based on mutual respect rather than his reputation.

When the first-years were finally directed to their dormitories, Kael found his trunk already placed beside a four-poster bed hung with blue and bronze curtains. The room was shared with four other boys: Terry Boot, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, and another boy named Kevin Entwhistle.

"So," said Terry as they began unpacking, "is it true you created a new spell when you were nine?"

"Several, actually," Kael replied without arrogance. "The Grimoire of Arcane Mastery contains twelve of my early creations, though I've developed more since then."

"Could you show us one?" asked Anthony eagerly.

Kael smiled, drawing his wand—twelve inches of polished thunderwood with a phoenix feather core. "This is a simple one called Aer Scriptura. It's useful for sending quick messages."

With a fluid movement, he traced his wand through the air while murmuring the incantation. Glowing blue words formed in the air: "Welcome to Ravenclaw, friends."

The other boys watched in amazement as the words hovered for a moment before dissolving into sparkling mist.

"That's brilliant!" exclaimed Michael. "Could you teach us?"

"Of course," Kael agreed readily. "Though perhaps not tonight. We have classes tomorrow, and I suspect Professor Flitwick will be particularly attentive to our first attempts at spellcasting."

As they prepared for bed, the conversation flowed easily between the new roommates. Despite his fame and accomplishments, Kael made a conscious effort to listen more than he spoke, asking questions about their backgrounds and interests. By the time they extinguished the lamps, he had learned that Terry had a passion for ancient runes, Michael was half-blood with a keen interest in defensive magic, Anthony came from a Jewish wizarding family with traditions dating back centuries, and Kevin was muggle-born with an aptitude for astronomy.

Lying in bed, listening to the gentle breathing of his roommates, Kael reflected on the day. The Sorting Hat had seen the qualities of all four houses within him, yet had ultimately placed him in Ravenclaw. "Where I'll fulfill my extraordinary potential," he thought, recalling the hat's words.

His gaze drifted to the window beside his bed, where stars glittered in the clear Scottish sky. Somewhere out there, dark forces were stirring. Dumbledore's letter had hinted at threats returning, at Harry Potter's significance in the times to come. And while Kael had no desire to be at the center of those events, he knew that his knowledge and power might be needed.

"Knowledge without wisdom is a storm without direction," he repeated Vaughn's words softly to himself.

Tomorrow would begin his formal magical education. Though he had already achieved more than many adult wizards, Kael knew this was just the beginning. With that thought, the young Stormbane closed his eyes, dreams of magical innovation and new friendships carrying him into sleep as the ancient castle of Hogwarts settled around him, welcoming its newest prodigy home.