"Four statues, representing a witch or wizard's mind, body, soul, and heart… so you're saying this transfer student was accepted by all of them?"
"The last time something like this happened… I think it was sixteen years ago."
"Where did this transfer student even come from?"
The young witches and wizards murmured in surprise, their voices rising and falling across the hall.
But they all clapped—no exceptions.
Sean, however, didn't have time to pay attention. Soft voices were whispering right by his ear.
"Choose me, the Horned Serpent. I will grant you the ability to slip through the sky of wisdom and hide among the noise."
A wise, steady voice spoke.
"I see your persistence. A wizard who fights like a warrior belongs to Wampus House."
A firm voice followed.
"Ever since you stepped into adventure, you've had no time for fear, young wizard. I spread my wings for you."
A bold voice declared.
"Those who carry goodness in their hearts enter Pukwudgie House."
A warm, gentle voice said.
Sean guessed these statues had abilities similar to the Sorting Hat—but not quite as powerful, which was probably why they couldn't decide on their own.
"I haven't seen this in ages, Helm… Mr. Grimm," the young witch said softly. "When all four statues call to a single student, the choice is left to that student."
How… was he supposed to choose?
Sean hesitated for a moment.
…
Beyond the rolling mountains of western Massachusetts stood Ilvermorny. The night sky glowed silver, and the castle—usually so full of life—had fallen silent.
Everyone held their breath, waiting for the young wizard in the center of the round hall to decide.
"Horned Serpent House," Sean finally said.
He had come to Ilvermorny to learn.
"Excellent!"
Up in the stands, Professor Terra was the first to applaud.
"He heard them…"
Headmistress Herrera's expression shifted slightly—something strange, unreadable.
Very few people could hear the statues speak.
Even students chosen by multiple houses rarely heard all four voices.
Even she hadn't had that honor when she was sorted—and she'd been Headmistress for years without meeting a witch or wizard like this.
"Welcome to Horned Serpent House!"
The prefect shouted excitedly.
She had no choice—if she didn't shout, her voice wouldn't reach the stands.
In the hall below, Sean bowed quietly. He heard the three voices in his mind sighing.
"The warrior suffers defeat once more—"
the determined voice muttered.
"Yes, another defeat for the warrior—"
the bold voice added dramatically.
"The spirit of Pukwudgie isn't just in its badge,"
the gentle voice said.
"The wise always make the correct choice,"
the wise voice said smugly.
With that, the statues returned to their still, silent forms.
Sean stepped toward the Horned Serpent platform under the young witch's encouraging gesture.
The students there clapped enthusiastically, some of the girls staring at him with shy smiles.
"Quiet—"
the young witch called out.
The stands fell silent instantly.
"Before we finish the Sorting Ceremony, let us sing the school song together!"
Headmistress Herrera announced. She flicked her wand, and glowing lines of text twisted like a serpent above the tables.
At the same time, banners depicting each house's magical creature unfurled from above.
Sean was still taking this in when the Horned Serpent prefect placed a roll of parchment in his hands—Ilvermorny's school song.
The students swayed as they sang:
"We stand united
Against the Puritans.
We draw our strength from Morrigan,
The good witch they once hunted.
She fled far from Ireland,
And from her our school began.
Oh, Ilvermorny of Massachusetts!
We choose you!
We choose you!
O wondrous magical school
Your walls protect us,
Your days enchant us,
You taught us all we know of magic.
And now one thing is clear:
No matter where we stand,
No matter where we roam,
Our truest home—
Our only home—
Is Ilvermorny!"
On the stands…
Sean suddenly thought of Hogwarts. No matter where he spent Christmas, Hogwarts would always be there, a quiet and distant symbol in his heart.
The song ended—mostly.
Only the Wampus students were still going, and Headmistress Herrera used her wand to conduct their final chorus before applauding the loudest.
"It's time for bed. Everyone, return to your dormitories."
She gave Sean a look, signaling him to come over.
"Our house is in one of the towers,"
the prefect whispered cheerfully.
"And here's a little secret—legend says our Founder, Isolt Sayre, could understand the Horned Serpent's speech."
"So that's how Horned Serpent House began?"
Sean asked, curious.
He remembered a few stories about Isolt—like how she was a descendant of Salazar Slytherin, and how her aunt was her enemy, Gormlaith Gaunt.
So her Parseltongue… evolved into Serpent-Tongue?
Magic truly was incredible.
The prefect noticed the Headmistress waiting and didn't say more. She simply gave Sean one last warm look and left.
He was a polite, handsome young wizard—titles aside.
She thought so, anyway.
Sean followed her gaze to the Headmistress, who said, smiling:
"There's a hidden path that leads to the Stone House. You have your own private room there, Mr. Hermes."
Professor Terra looked unsurprised.
"Go on, my student. That is Ilvermorny's original stone cottage…"
Sean didn't ask why Professor Terra wouldn't accompany him. He remembered the wistful expression the professor had shown outside the stone house earlier. Perhaps the cottage only opened for him now.
He assumed it was some sort of special privilege.
What he didn't know was that Professors Terra and Herrera had argued fiercely over that privilege for quite a long time.
So, he followed the small path.
The snow was soft beneath his feet, the forest a world of white.
The trees looked dusted with cotton, snowflakes drifting lazily through the cold air.
Each flake melted against his skin the moment it touched him.
He realized fully, suddenly—
He wasn't at Hogwarts anymore.
He opened the door of the stone house.
It looked entirely different now—
a warm fireplace, a soft, wide bed, colorful windows dusted with frost, and a large workspace.
A full meal sat waiting on the table.
Sean shook his head lightly and began searching for the cottage's rumored secrets.
Then the fire flared suddenly—
and a familiar voice echoed from the flames:
"Come to me, child…"
---