September 1st, 2017.
Somewhere along a Scottish railway.
The castle had always faced extraordinary challenges: from spiders being hatched in cupboards, to basilisks being freed in underground chambers. After The Battle, the building did what it always had in times of crisis.
It withstood. As well as it could, anyway. Repairs to the school had taken nineteen years in total, although the school never closed -- the most immediate repairs to the school had only taken a month, as there was an influx of volunteers who came in after hearing about Lord Voldemort's death.
With all major damage done quickly patched over, Headmistress McGonagall spent the next nineteen years securing the school, making sure that should it ever be attacked again, it would be nigh impervious. With the repairs came renovations. Improvements.
Eventually, McGonagall had stepped down. Retiring in 2015, it fell to the new Headmistress, Kallistos Ourania, to oversee the tail-end of the renovations her predecessor had whisked into motion.
The wizarding world had, since the end of the war, become a quieter, more peaceful place. An age of prosperity, some called it, as more and more Death Eaters were imprisoned, pardoned, or forced into hiding. At least in the wizarding world, at least for the moment, good had won.
The world had become a better place.
As dark swallowed up the last scatterings of dusk, the Hogwarts Express was on its last stretch. Having torn through miles of plains, forests, and valleys since it's departure it hadn't slowed at all. And, although it was undetectable by Muggles, to the children aboard, the Express' noise was very real.
Even in the melancholy stillness of the autumn night, the train roared on, a thick bellow of white steam trailing behind the stacks as the train surged on. The tracks echoed - the rattling the only disturbance in an otherwise silent forest. The sky had long since been covered in shades of black and blue, and the last bit of warm sunlight was now beginning to creep past the horizon.
Stars shone brightly in the sky, as if the inhabitants of the train were entering an entirely new world. They had, of course; it was quaint of the stars to notice their transcendence into the wizarding world. The sky was free and clear of man's influence. The only things that blocked the starlight shimmering along the train's windows perhaps the occasional owl in the night. The train was alone in the darkness, like the last ember of a campfire in the night -- the train's windows shone brightly with a warm orange glow, and sounds of laughter and mirth echoed through the silent forest's valleys and caves.
Inside the train, a variable army of adolescents bounced about their chosen compartments. Trays of teas, cakes, and candies passed up and down the Express' warm corridors. With the release of the new
Harry Potter, The Chosen One series of cards, Chocolate Frogs were experiencing a surge in popularity. Though most students were nestled away in small rooms of the train, loathe to move, those who were on the way to the privy or moving to another compartment might find themselves dealing with a chocolate rainforest's worth of Chocolate Frogs.
Few of the students would sleep that night, blaming it on either sugar rushes or excitement, while both were perfectly likely culprits. Although it experienced no absolute pause in the buzz of excitement, the further into the night more compartment lights had dimmed, most of the chocolate frogs had escaped, and trays of food traveling through the hall were less and less frequent. The Hogwarts Express itself seemed to have dimmed as well, its pace increasingly languid as the few students that could find sleep began to close their curtains one by one.
Eventually, the train slowed to a halt, and the students were let off. The cold first years shivered in the brisk air, clinging to each other in the nearly impenetrable darkness.
The students were led to a long stretch of wooden docks, where dozens of rowboats were tied. The boats brought the tired children in groups of three at a time, to a place that would become their second home.
Hogwarts.
September 1st, 2017.
The Great Hall, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
"Ravenclaw!" the Hat shouted triumphantly. As with every sorting, three long tables cheered out of politeness, and one out of joy. The Great Hall's ceilings were enchanted to look like the night sky above, and so it appeared that the magnificent candles that floated above would sometimes flicker in the cool nighttime air. The walls were made from magnificent slabs of grey stone, with portraits and tapestries hung all around. No trace of the battle that had once left the building torn asunder.
"Susan Burnes." As Headmistress Ouranea spoke, the over-sized purple cubes danging from her ears shook. Her voice was magically amplified, resonating even in the furthest reaches of the Great Hall. As the Headmistress adjusted the
comically large scroll she was reading from, a young girl with sandy brown pigtails walked up to the stool that was situated at the front of the Great Hall, just in front of the row of seats taken by the professors.
She sat down, and the Hat was gently placed on her head. It grumbled, nodding at a silent conversation it was having with the girl.
"Yes," the Hat nodded in approval.
"Gryffindor!" It roared, being plucked from the girl's head. The girl, Susan Burnes, who merrily skipped to the table decorated in gold and red.
Headmistress Ouranea paused as she examined the scroll, deciphering the name's origin and subsequent pronunciation.
"Iorweth Caradog," she said smoothly, confident in her pronunciation.
A skinny, sallow boy took his seat, and began to kick his legs back and forth lightly. The Hat was brought down once more, and was finished with its decision by the time the professor holding it began to let go.
"Hufflepuff!" The quick decision was met with by snickers at the Slytherin table and cheers from the Hufflepuffs.
Slowly, Ouranea made her way through the C surnames, then began to make her way through the D surnames.
"Cecile Delacroix" She said, as a young boy with jet black hair took his seat in the stool. He sat, and as per usual, the hat took a moment to grumble to itself. However, this time was different. After the initial fifteen seconds of silence from the hat, some of the conversations had died down. Another fifteen seconds passed, and the room was actually
quiet. The hat was deep in concentration, squinting as if staring at a very hard math problem. At long last, it roared it's answer.
"Gryffindor!"Gryffindor's table cheered more loudly than usual, and the boy was sent on his way.
"Geneviève Dejardin." The Headmistress said dryly, looking over her reading glasses.
A pale lightly freckled girl seemed to dart back into focus before making her way over to the Sorting Hat. Eyes sparkling with curiosity, she actually lifted an arm as if to run her dainty fingers along the edge of the gruff hat's rim, before a particular look from both the headmistress and the item itself gave her the impression that, that was probably something she should
not do. With her expression falling a bit in disappointment, she carefully sat herself down with her hands placed neatly on her lap.
The Hat was placed on her head for a moment, before it began to nod, grumbling sternly.
"Slytherin!"Without so much as a pause, the redhead stood up from the stool with a peculiar look of interest as she headed towards the loudly applauding table lined with the colors green and silver. She hardly even noticed that, though they were doing their best, the hoots and hollers from this particular table could do nothing to match the calls around it... The amount of people seated there was just too small.
The sorting continued, through every single D surname, through E, and finally onto the F names.
"Victoria Faulkner."A short, pale girl with silver hair and a truly
remarkable pout on her face (in light of the jubilation all around her) approached the stool, looking around with an almost bored expression of patience for the Sorting Hat. Whether it was genuine or artificially produced, the large crowd that sat before the three most important people (for the moment) and everything seemed to still as the headmistress sized the ghostly girl up with her own bespectacled eyes.
With little to no warning, the Hat was plopped on the girl's head quick enough to give her a bit of a start. As wary as any
hat can be, its folds cautiously opened to speak, but paused as if it had been told something irredeemably disrespectful. Moving itself in such a way as to imitate someone shaking their head in disdain, the Hat finally spoke in response to what surely were the girl's thoughts.
"No, no. Certainly not." it hissed, beginning to disregard the deep frown that the child had set on her face.
"It's final. Gryffindor."The girl's expression quickly became one of disbelief and offense. Perhaps it wasn't the house she wanted, perhaps she was simply put off by what
should be an inanimate object disregarding
anything had thought and announced her house without proper consultation; either way, she stood, and was waved toward the Gryffindor table. She sat down without any ceremony, but still couldn't escape the wild boats of praise and excitement coming from the people around her.
"Rory Fisher." Oureana said, her cool yet somehow comforting eyes looking upon the group of to-be first years as if she had somehow found him without yet knowing who he was or what he even
looked like. The rest of the students who had attended Hogwarts for a few years already guessed that,
somehow, she probably did.
Amidst the bodies, one thin young boy managed to wrangle himself out to the front and wavered for a moment as if he hadn't realized how easy it would be to get out of that mass. Lightly brushing his somewhat wild hair, he tentatively made his way to the stool, sitting down without so much as a sound. Immediately, the Sorting Hat gave a perplexed look. Many of the students already seated leaned forward without realizing-- you had to make your own fun during the quieter parts of the ceremony, and they
knew that look. This was going to be a tougher one for the Hat.
"Hmm. You'd do quite well, yes," It murmured quietly, as if it were speaking less to the boy and more to itself. Thirty seconds went by, and then another thirty. The room had hushed considerably since only a minute ago. As the time seemed to crawl boy, the boy began fiddling with his fingers in an attempt to do something else other than feel the heat that was arising from both all of the people collected into one room, along with the warmness radiating off of his own skin in anticipation.
"Such a shame. I'm sure, yes." The leathery Hat whispered under his breath. The two seemed to be locked in an argument, and the crowd's concerned whispers slowly began to rise above each other. Those same formerly nervous dark-blue eyes actually seemed to begin relaxing once they had passed a certain mark of time-- as if he was adjusting to the situation that he now found himself in. Now he was just waiting for a decision like everyone else, but one that he also played apart in.
When the two minute mark went by and still no answer, it was obvious that the majority in the room were getting a bit tired of waiting... Though, at the very same time the tension surrounding them was becoming more and more apparent. For this sorting to take
this long, the kid had to have some
major potential, and all of the houses were beginning to take a special interest in him. The Sorting Hat was grumbling something to the boy, under its breath, far too quiet for even the professors to hear. After what seemed like hours of anticipation, the Hat finally cleared its throat, and diverted its attention to the crowd.
"Slytherin." it said, assuredly. The Slytherin table roared in triumph as best it could, and the boy slowly slid off of the stool and walked over to get greeted by the celebratory faces of the crowd reaching to pat him on the shoulder. The new first-year redhead leaned back and blinked at his arrival without doing much else, allowing him to bask in his newly-sorted glory.
"Hero Hallcrest-Wyrm."A tall, dirty blond witch strode up to the stool. She deposited herself on the thing as if she'd belonged there. Crossed her gangly legs and folded her spindling fingers in her laps with a fluidity that far outpaced the awkwardness of a girl who was years out from womanhood.
The Sorting Hat had opened its...
mouth to speak almost in the same moment as it'd been dropped on the girl's head. Her brows furrowed, and its flaps closed. Seconds ticked by, and the folds of the fabric seemed to twinge upward as the girl's expression grew more and more stern.
Eventually, the Hat barked it's decision:
"Gryffindor!" The table set with red and gold roared its approval.
The girl jumped at the sudden noise-- either from on top of her head or the table in front of her, but didn't move to settle herself. Instead, she titled her head.
"That's the red one?""Their cheers didn't tip you off?""Sassy hat," the girl sang, sliding off the stool. The witch was halfway down the steps, when she turned to face the at. Eyes narrowed, she raised a hand, twirled a 'v' with it, from her eyes toward the piece of fabric.
"A promise," she half hissed.
For the first time that evening, the Sorting Hat laughed.
"Giles Kingston."A well-groomed young man took his seat on the stool quickly, sitting up straight with a patient expectancy. It was obvious that that this was a boy used to countless eyes following him around, for better or for worse. This was probably the only case of the year where the mumbles and the whispers didn’t even phase the child, he simply kept staring at his objective, the stool. Sitting down with a distinct elegance, he sat completely straight and no one in the entire Great Hall could knock his flawless posture. The Hat seemed to appear quite confounded for a moment, before changing its expression into one of strict concentration.
For awhile, everything that was still. The child kept his eyes forward, looking above the heads of the older students sitting before him. They only knew a decision was coming when the the boy's eyebrows began to rise.
"Sure, sure. Tradition." The Hat paused. Flaps creasing, as if reflecting on its decisions. Then the Hat ruffled, jerked itself from side to side-- the closest it could come to shaking its head.
"No. My decision stands.""Gryffindor!" The boy's face was one of shock, but not shock or perhaps of disgust similar to that of the young, previously sorted silver-haired witch. Just
surprise. He walked to the cheering table of Gryffindors with a half-dazed expression, paying little mind to the many pats he felt on his back from his new housemates.
"Kina Listig."A scruffy looking golden-haired boy stepped forward from the rows of first years, staring more at the gargantuan ceilings and walls. While his eyes lingered on all of the glistening attractive decorations spread about the hall, his warm brown gaze finally drew back into focus when one of his shoes tapped a leg of the stool. The headmistress looked mildly amused as the child seemed to return to what situation he was in and all but threw himself down on the chair, settling his tight shaky fists in his lap.
The Hat smiled as it was placed on the boy's head, as if it were thankful for an easy decision.
"I know where to put this one." It mumbled to the boy for a moment longer, before announcing its choice.
"Ravenclaw!"Another group of students went after him, quickly making their way through P surnames.
"Morgan Pryde."A young, fair-skinned boy gingerly made his way up to the steps. Heaving a sigh, he deposited himself on the stool. The Sorting Hat mumbled to the boy, as it had so many others. Only now, its fabric folded inward, narrowing into what was probably a deeply uncertain look.
"Ra-" It paused for a moment, the boy having cleared his throat anxiously and interrupted it. Despite that, the Hat only shifted a bit before ultimately grunting in disapproval. Small beads of sweat started forming after it was inwardly made known to the boy that the Hat had made its decision.
"Ravenclaw!"Dejected, he began to walk towards the table covered in decorations of blue and silver, sitting down with a slump.
"Ishwarya Singh."This name in particular rolled off the headmistress' tongue like verbal art-- whether or not she did that to show off or not, no one could say. The young girl seemed to stiffen when her name was called and took in a deep breath to regain the last shred of composure she could still muster up in front of all these expectant faces. With movements akin to a graceful doe, the dark-skinned witch headed up to the stood and made sure to sit down quickly, her eyes trained first on headmistress Ouranea before diving towards the floor.
The Sorting Hat was placed very gingerly on the quiet girl's head and seemed to sit itself a bit higher on her head. The crinkles that were used to stand-in for the item's missing eyes narrowed a bit and the faint sound of a puzzled hum traveled throughout the hall if for only a moment.
"Hufflepuff!"The tabled littered in gold and black were delighted at the call of their house name, as if they were winning some unspoken contest, while the shy new member quickly rose from the stool and made her way over to all of those grinning faces.
"Isabella Williams"A petite girl perked up at the mention of her name, her thin fingers restlessly moving where they dangled beside her. All but managing to stop herself from running forward, and instead slowed herself to more of a swift walk while the bright grin she wore made no show of dimming anytime soon. Perching herself atop the stool, she took only a moment to rearrange a few loose strands of golden shining hair before waiting to feel the inevitable drop of a hat onto her head.
"Hufflepuff!" The Hat shouted after mulling his decision over for a few short seconds.
Following the Hat's removal, it looked as though in that one moment all of the little girl's dreams had come to life. Bounding down from the stool, she headed in the direction of the vibrant yellow and black colors where the rest of the seated Hufflepuffs were practically roaring with elation.
"Andrew Worth"A short strawberry blonde wizard sat at the stool, squinting at the Gryffindor table, as though trying to make out a familiar face. The Hat's expression was one of impatience, as if it was hearing something it had heard many times before -- if it had eyes, it would've rolled them.
"Ravenclaw."A blond head shot up from the Gryffindor table.
"You lice-infested worm--" was all the girl had a chance to spit before she was dragged back down to the bench, a redhead with a Prefect pin slapping her hand over the first year's mouth.
The Sorting Hat laughed, again; this time, the rest of the hall followed.
With the blond witch's objection stifled, the boy slouched and shuffled to the Ravenclaw table.
The sorting of 2017 went on for many hours, and eventually ended with Percival Zachariah, a Gryffindor. When it was over, each of the first years were guided by prefects to their respective common rooms. Slytherins went through the dungeon to reach their underwater lair, Hufflepuffs would find their hideaway tucked into the building's hearth and frame by the kitchen, and the Ravenclaws found themselves in the most isolated tower, while the Gryffindors, as boisterous and proud as they were, made their way to one of the tallest towers.
