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Chapter 7: The Sorting Ceremony
🕑 Added 2025-10-31 01:31:15 +0000 UTCChapter 7: The Sorting Ceremony
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "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. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts…"
Professor McGonagall went on to explain the four houses and the House Cup. Before she departed, she left the first-years with a final piece of advice.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the whole school in a few minutes. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."
Her gaze lingered on Sean for a fraction of a second, and the sternness in her eyes vanished, replaced by a flicker of something much softer. The robes suit him well, she thought.
As soon as she was gone, panic erupted.
"The Sorting Ceremony!" a dark-haired boy whispered fearfully to his friend. "Merlin, I heard you have to fight a dragon!"
"What?!" the blond girl next to him shrieked, looking as though she was about to burst into tears. "Fight a dragon?! But… but all I've learned is the Wand-Lighting Charm!"
The rumour spread through the crowd of first-years like a curse.
"A dragon?! An adult one or a juvenile?!"
"Anthony, is now really the time to be so pedantic? Even a baby dragon could incinerate us all with one puff!"
"We're doomed!"
The young witches and wizards accepted the rumour without question, their imaginations likely having been primed for years by tales from their wizarding families.
Amidst the chorus of groans and whimpers, Sean continued to calmly read his copy of Magical Theory. It was the only book he had brought with him from his trunk.
While magic might not follow Muggle rules like the conservation of mass, it had existed for millennia. Surely, even if every wizard was a complete dunderhead, they would have managed to identify a few patterns and principles over the centuries. At two Galleons, it was one of the most expensive books on the first-year list, and in Sean's opinion, the most profoundly underrated. The fundamentals of every branch of magic—Charms, Transfiguration, even Potions—could be traced back to the concepts within its pages.
He was now on his third read-through, and each time, he uncovered new layers of understanding.
Magic is an inherent force within a witch or wizard. The strength of this magic is often tied to the emotional state or mental power of the individual. However, most wizards cannot consciously control this raw force on their own. They require the focusing conduits of a wand and the structure of an incantation to shape their magic and direct it toward a specific purpose.
This made perfect sense to Sean. Harry Potter was the perfect example. Long before he knew he was a wizard, he had performed feats of accidental magic, like teleporting onto a roof or vanishing a pane of glass. But he could only do so in moments of extreme emotion, and he had no idea how to control it. Once equipped with a wand and the knowledge of spells, a wizard could command their own power to a much greater degree.
After two months of study, Sean was beginning to agree with a theory from his past life: the wizards of this world were bloodline mages, their power passed down through their ancestry.
He continued reading.
One truth of magical study is that a wizard should strive to master as many spells as possible, including many of the ancient arts. The more magic you know, the more you can accomplish. Another truth is that once a spell is learned, it must be practiced to mastery. The difference between a masterfully cast spell and a clumsy one is vast. However, to truly unleash the full potential of any magic, one must also possess sufficient mental fortitude.
It was such a concise and powerful summary. No wonder the author, Adalbert Waffling, had dared to call his book Magical Theory. The name alone gave it the same weighty authority as Theoretical Mathematics or Basic Physics from his old world—books that, like Dementors, had sucked away a great deal of Sean's happiness.
"I'm starting to believe you," Hermione whispered, her face pale. The talk of dragons was getting more and more terrifying, and the way everyone was reacting made it feel horribly real. As a newcomer to the magical world, she felt her anxiety rising. Then she looked at Sean, who was still completely absorbed in his book, as if he hadn't heard a word.
"Maybe we should ask Sean," Justin stammered, his teeth chattering. "He doesn't seem scared at all." The boy was remembering the daunting equestrian tests from his time at Eton. Perhaps wizards really were expected to defeat dragons? A glorious, terrifying tradition?
Wizards, he thought, are horrifying.
"Sean, I'm so sorry to bother you, but—"
Whatever Justin was about to ask was cut short as the great oak doors to the Hall swung open.
The Sorting Ceremony was about to begin.
Sean finally pulled his attention away from his book. While the Frayed King on the stool was still singing its song, Sean began to weigh his options for a new home. After all, the Sorting Hat was known to take the student's choice into account.
Gryffindor? No, absolutely not. His primary mission was to earn that scholarship, which meant getting top marks. The benchmarks for that were Hermione and Percy Weasley, and both of them had been ostracized by their fellow Gryffindors for their studious, rule-abiding natures. Hermione was bullied into crying in a bathroom in her first year simply for being a know-it-all in class. The Gryffindors were brave adventurers, but their pride and recklessness often led them to hurt others, just as they had been swayed by rumours to isolate Harry during the Chamber of Secrets affair.
Slytherin? Definitely not. Sean had no time or energy for their political maneuvering and backstabbing. He could use that time to grind his Levitation Charm to the non-verbal level.
That left Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, both of which seemed like good options. But Sean found himself leaning heavily toward Hufflepuff.
The common room was just a few steps away from the kitchens, meaning unlimited access to free food. It was an incredibly appealing perk.
Hufflepuffs were a cheerful, supportive bunch who never turned on their own, always presenting a united front to outsiders. Even J.K. Rowling herself had said that in many ways, Hufflepuff was her favourite house.
He pictured it: a warm, cozy common room, the scent of baking from the kitchens next door, and a Head of House who, if you got into a fight, would give you a stern lecture before secretly sending you a bowl of coconut ice cream.
Sean wanted to shout it from the rooftops.
We are from the valley, our hearts are full of love. We are just and loyal, patient and true, and unafraid of toil. We are Hufflepuff!
"Potter, Harry!"
At the center of the hall, Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the nervous chatter. A hush fell over the students as whispers of "Him?" and "It's really him" rippled through the crowd.
Harry stumbled forward and put on the patched, frayed hat. The entire hall held its breath. The wait stretched on for what felt like an eternity. Four, maybe five minutes passed. Sean could have sung the Hat's song twice over.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat finally shouted.
The Gryffindor table erupted in a deafening roar. "We got Potter! We got Potter!"
The names continued, and then—
"Green, Sean!"
