Then the doors opened,
...Professor McGonagall beckoned them forward. They filed into the Great Hall, and the sheer, impossible wonder of it stole the breath from every single first-year.
Thousands of candles floated in mid-air over four long, crowded house tables. Their flames glittered off golden plates and goblets. And above it all, the ceiling was a velvety black sky scattered with brilliant stars, a perfect mirror of the night outside.
"It's enchanted," Hermione Granger breathed from behind them, her voice full of awe. "I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
But Shya and Talora weren't listening. They were frozen, hands still clasped, staring upwards. The nervous dread of the Sorting was momentarily swallowed by the sheer, breathtaking magic of it. This was real. It was all real.
At the top of the Hall stood a long staff table. And there, on a dusty three-legged stool, sat the most patched and frayed hat they had ever seen.
"Is that it?" Talora whispered, her nose wrinkling. "It looks... ancient. And dirty."
"Maybe it's a magical dirt," Shya whispered back, though she looked equally dubious. "It can't actually be that gross, can it?"
As they lined up, a rip near the brim opened wide, and the Hat began to sing.
It was... not what they expected. The voice was crotchety and a bit off-key, weaving its tale of the four founders. Talora leaned closer to Shya. "It's not a very good singer, is it?" she muttered, a giggle threatening to break through her nerves.
Shya shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips. "It's trying its best, Bob."
When the song finished and applause echoed through the Hall, their anxiety returned full force. Professor McGonagall stepped forward, unrolling a long parchment.
"When I call your name, you will come forth, sit on the stool, and place the Sorting Hat on your head. It will determine your house."
The names began to be called alphabetically. "Abbott, Hannah!" The Hat was placed on her head, and Talora watched, horrified. "Oh my god, she's actually putting it on her head," she whispered. "It's touching her hair!"
Shya grimaced in sympathy. "It's probably fine. Magical germs are probably different." She didn't sound convinced.
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Shya's stomach was a tight knot. With every name, she and Talora were closer to their fate. She watched, barely breathing, as "Boot, Terry" went to Ravenclaw and "Brown, Lavender" became the first Gryffindor.
"Bones, Susan!" became a Hufflepuff. Then, "Boot, Terry!" went to Ravenclaw.
A new tension entered the line. "Black, Cassian!"
The boy with the unruly black hair and intense grey eyes walked forward with an unnerving stillness. The Hat was placed on his head. There was a pause of only a few seconds before the rip near the brim opened wide.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The word echoed, sharp and clear. Cassian stood, his expression unchanging, and made his way to the far-right table, where a smattering of polite applause greeted him. As he sat, his gaze, cool and assessing, swept over the remaining first-years. It lingered for a fleeting moment on Shya before moving on. She felt a strange little jolt, part nerves, part challenge.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!" went to Hufflepuff.
Then, "Finnigan, Seamus!" Gryffindor.
Her heart thumped. They were getting closer.
"Granger, Hermione!"
"Ugh I hope we aren't in the same house as her" Talora whispered, " hopefully she gets what she wants, and goes to Gryffindor" Shya whispered back ( not as quietly as she thought).
After a full minute, the Hat finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Hermione scurried to the cheering table.
Shya's POV
My palms were sweating. I wiped them discreetly on my skort.
"Gill, Shya!"
My heart gave a single, hard thump. I felt Talora's hand press briefly against my back. Go on, Bob. I walked forward, my head high, but my mind was a terrified scream. Don't separate us. Please, don't separate us. And please don't let this hat be itchy.
I sat on the stool, flinching slightly as the heavy, dusty fabric was lowered over my eyes. It
Ahhh, a small, keen voice whispered in her ear. Now, this is interesting. A mind not easily categorized. So much ambition. A desire to not just know, but to own. To shape the world to your will. You see power not as a tool, but as a birthright. And there is a darkness in you, a comfort with the shadows that others fear. A understanding of endings... yes, Slytherin would be a fine place to cultivate such gifts. You could be great, you know. All this, just waiting for a nudge...
The Hat's voice was seductive, plucking at the threads of ruthlessness she knew lived within her, the part that found Cassian Black's intense stillness compelling rather than frightening. Slytherin. The house of the cunning, the resourceful. The house where she could forge her own empire.
But then another voice, her own, quieter but more insistent, rose in response. But I don't just want power. I want to understand it. I want to know the equations behind the magic, the artistry in the spellcraft. Power without knowledge is just brute force. And I am not brute force.
Hmm, the Hat mused, its tone shifting from seduction to curiosity. A genuine thirst for knowledge. A mind that appreciates learning for its own sake, not just as a stepping stone. Ravenclaw would suit that well. You could unlock every mystery this castle holds. Your artistry could flourish there.
It was true. Ravenclaw, the house of wit and learning. It was a powerful draw. But then an image flashed in her mind's eye: Talora, grinning as their Lumos charms merged. Her brother Arya, telling her she was pushing the magic too hard. Her loyalty was not a broad, general thing. It was a fierce, pinpoint laser, focused on her chosen few. To be separated from Talora… the very idea felt like a fundamental error, a flaw in the grand design of their lives.
Hufflepuff? The house of the also-rans? The kind, the hardworking? I was not kind. I was not patient with fools. I was hardworking, yes, but for a purpose, for greatness, not for its own sake.That felt wrong. It was too soft, too broad. My loyalty wasn't for everyone; it was for her. For Talora. For my family. The fact that the hat didn't even mention Hufflepuff meant that I was right.
It has to be Ravenclaw, I thought, the word firm and final in her mind. Not Slytherin. Not Hufflepuff. It has to be Ravenclaw. It's where I can learn, where I can grow. And it's where she will choose.
The Hat was silent for a long moment, sifting through my turmoil.
A partnership, then, over pure ambition? A choice made from the heart, not the head? Very well. Better be... RAVENCLAW!
The Hat shouted the last word to the entire Hall. I pulled it off, my legs trembling with relief so profound I felt dizzy. As I stood, my eyes instantly found Talora's in the crowd, and we shared a look of pure, unadulterated relief. Then, almost against my will, my gaze flickered towards the Slytherin table. Cassian Black was watching me, his head tilted just slightly. He gave that same, slow, deliberate nod he had in Diagon Alley. I quickly looked away, walking on slightly unsteady legs to the applauding blue-and-bronze table.
Talora's POV
I watched Shya sit down with the Ravenclaws, the knot in my own chest loosening. One half of our world was safe. Now for my own.
My heart started pounding harder. We were in the Ls now.
"Longbottom, Neville!"
The round-faced boy tripped on his way to the stool. The Hat took a long time before finally declaring "GRYFFINDOR!" He ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter.
I froze. That was it. My name was next.
"Livanthos, Talora!"
My name echoed in the Hall before I was ready. I took a shaky breath and walked forward, my eyes finding Shya's for one last second of reassurance before I had to face the Hat. I sat on the stool, my heart trying to beat its way out of my chest. Professor McGonagall lifted the Hat. I couldn't help it; I squeezed my eyes shut as the heavy, slightly musty fabric descended.
Ugh, it's so dirty, was my first, panicked thought.
Ah, another interesting one, a voice murmured in my ear, and my train of thought about hygiene was abruptly derailed. A methodical and dedicated mind. A true love for the intricate, careful work of potions. You have a deep, genuine thirst for knowledge—for the joy of the process itself. Yes, very clear. You would do wonderfully in RAVENCLAW!
The thought was a balm. Ravenclaw. It was where Shya was. It was where I belonged.
But the Hat wasn't finished. Oh, but wait. There's more. A spine of steel under all that calm. A bravery that isn't loud, but is unshakeable. You would stand your ground for what you believe in, for those you love. You have a cunning, too—not the self-serving kind, but a strategic mind, like a grandmaster seeing ten moves ahead. A certain... Dumbledorian flair. GRYFFINDOR would temper your caution, and you would temper their recklessness. You could be a great leader there.
Gryffindor. The house of the brave. The thought sent a conflicting thrill through me. But it wasn't where Shya was. The distance between the tables suddenly felt like a vast, uncrossable ocean.
And then there is this, the Hat continued, its tone softening. A loyalty that runs as deep as an ancient root system. A capacity for hard work that is truly remarkable. You would never abandon a friend, a project, a principle. This is the heart of HUFFLEPUFF. Do not discount it. It is the house of the steadfast, the true.
Hufflepuff. The house of the loyal. It was the quality I prized above all others. But the idea of being in a different house than Shya felt like a fundamental fracture.
My mind was a whirlwind, but my heart had already decided. It had decided the moment Shya was sorted..
It's not about where I would do well, I thought, pouring all my will into the message. It's about where we will do well. Together. We're a pair. We have to be together. Please.
The Hat chuckled softly in my mind A partnership as powerful as any magic. A choice made not out of fear, but out of strength. Very well. If your mind is set, and your heart is decided, then we must put you where you will shine brightest together. Better be... RAVENCLAW!
The shout echoed through the Hall. My grin was instantaneous and brilliant. I practically ripped the Hat off my head, placing it back on the stool with a little too much force. I didn't even think to smooth my hair, just half-ran to the Ravenclaw table and slid onto the bench right next to Shya.
"You did it!" Shya whispered, beaming.
"You too!" I whispered back, our shoulders pressing together. Shya grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed. "And I was right," I added with a grimace, "it was super dirty."
I watched as the rest of the Sortings continued, the names now a blur of relief. "MacDougal, Morag!" became a Ravenclaw shortly after me. Then "Malfoy, Draco!" went to Slytherin immediately. A moment later, "Nott, Roman!" joined the Slytherin table with that easy smile. As he sat down, his eyes found mine across the Hall and he gave me that quick, dimpled smile that made my stomach do a little flip.
Across the Hall, my eyes stayed fixed on Roman. He was still watching me, and when he saw me looking back, his smile widened just a fraction. Cassian was sitting next to him, but I barely noticed the intense black-haired boy. My attention was all for the one with the warm, easy demeanor.
Shya followed my gaze and giggled, the sound full of pure, childish relief. "Looks like someone's happy you're in Ravenclaw."
I felt my cheeks get warm. "Let him look," I said, finally turning my full attention back to my best friend. The terrifying ordeal was over. We had passed the test. We were together. And, I couldn't help but think with a thrill, the game had officially begun.
The rest of the Sortings passed in a blur for them. When the last "Zabini, Blaise!" was Sorted into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment and took the Hat away.
Albus Dumbledore had risen from his central throne-like chair. He beamed at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.
"Welcome!" he said, his voice carrying without effort. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
He sat back down. The entire Hall erupted in applause and chatter, and as he did, the golden plates and goblets before them were suddenly piled high with food. Roast beef, chicken, pork chops, sausages, Yorkshire puddings, mountains of potatoes, gravy, and every vegetable imaginable appeared as if from nowhere.
As the feast began, Talora and Shya ate with gusto, their relief and happiness making everything taste divine. They were here. They were together. They were Ravenclaws.
But as the desserts appeared (a similarly staggering array of pies, cakes, ice cream, and trifles), Dumbledore rose again. The Hall fell silent.
"A few more start-of-term notices," he said, his twinkling eyes seeming to lose a little of their light. "First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. A few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." His gaze seemed to flicker toward the Gryffindor table.
"Secondly, our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. The list of forbidden items, which includes such delights as Fanged Frisbees and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs, has been updated and is available on Mr. Filch's office door."
He paused, and the air in the Great Hall seemed to grow still. "And finally, this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
A stunned silence fell, broken only by a few nervous giggles. He wasn't smiling.
"He's not serious?" Talora whispered to Shya, a piece of treacle tart halfway to her mouth.
Shya's analytical eyes were fixed on Dumbledore. "He doesn't seem the type to joke about something like that." A thrill, part fear and part excitement, went through her. The castle wasn't just a school; it was a place of secrets and dangers. It was infinitely more interesting.