11: The Sorting Hat

Eve dipped her small hand into the cold lake water, her curiosity evident as she asked, "Why can't we ride the carriages with the older students?"

Nolan shook his head, indicating he didn't know. Alicia, the quiet girl across from him who had been gazing at the night sky, answered instead, "It's tradition."

"Tradition?"

"Hogwarts tradition. First-years cross the lake by boat. It's been this way for centuries."

Nolan nodded thoughtfully. "That explanation holds some logic. When Hogwarts was first constructed, it was to shield wizards and witches from the persecution of Muggles during the witch-hunting era. The Founders used magic to hide the school from Muggles, and the only way for fleeing wizards to enter was by crossing the lake. Perhaps that's how the tradition originated."

Miles Bletchley, the wiry boy, seemed puzzled. "Why would wizards be afraid of Muggles?"

Nolan's response was matter-of-fact. "Numbers."

"Numbers?"

"No matter how deadly a wizard's spell, it can only kill one person at a time. Muggles, however, can afford to lose ten of their own to take down a single wizard. Do wizards even make up a tenth of the Muggle population? Not even one in ten thousand. When faced with the overwhelming force of numbers, magical prowess becomes insignificant."

The most terrifying aspect of Muggles, Nolan thought, was their cockroach-like ability to reproduce.

One person might fail to kill a vampire, but what about a hundred? A thousand? Ten thousand?

In that regard, vampires were far less efficient. They could spend centuries sleeping, only to spend another century figuring out what era they'd woken up in and what they needed to do before they even began creating offspring.

Far too inefficient.

The fleet of small boats seemed to glide into what could only be described as Hogwarts' underground waterways. Despite the ominous setting, there was no unpleasant odor. They traveled through a pitch-black tunnel until they saw the flicker of torchlight and arrived at a small dock.

The dock was ancient, its wooden posts bearing scars of battles fought long ago—perhaps a thousand years ago, or even longer.

Nolan stepped out of the boat and offered his hand to help Eve out. The first-years, herded along by the half-giant, jostled their way forward until they reached a massive oak door, large enough to accommodate three Hagrids standing side by side.

The Keeper of Keys knocked on the door with a fist the size of a barrel. The door creaked open to reveal an elderly witch clad in deep green robes. Though her face was lined with wrinkles, her sharp gaze cut like a blade, betraying no hint of frailty.

Nolan was still trying to guess her identity when the giant man spoke. "Here's the new batch of first-years, Professor McGonagall."

Ah, so this was Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress.

"Thank you, Hagrid. From here, I'll take over. First-years, follow me. Quickly now, come inside and warm up."

With a wave of her wand, Professor McGonagall opened the oak doors wide, ushering the excited students into the warmth of Hogwarts.

Nolan's first impression of Hogwarts was that it was ancient. The walls were built from old stone, and instead of electric lights, torches burned everywhere. Underfoot, the carpets were musty and worn, though not unpleasantly so.

Above them, the ceiling was a marvel. Instead of seeing the actual rafters, one could only see a starry night sky stretching infinitely upward. Nolan knew this was the result of enchantments, giving the illusion of boundless height.

Professor McGonagall led the first-years to a small chamber off the Great Hall, where they filed in one by one. There were fewer than fifty of them, though Nolan couldn't tell whether this was a large or small number for a first-year cohort. Either way, the chamber easily accommodated them.

The professor clenched her fists, and the whispers and murmurs among the students immediately ceased. She spoke, her voice crisp and commanding, "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start-of-term feast will begin shortly, but first, we must sort you into your respective houses..."

As she finished, her sharp eyes met Nolan's for a brief moment before she turned and left the chamber, presumably to prepare for the Sorting.

Nolan could hear Eve, the perpetually teary-eyed girl, beginning to sniffle as she asked Alicia, "What if none of the houses pick me? What if they throw my luggage out of the Great Hall and make me take a cab back to London?"

Well, that was quite the imagination for a little girl.

Compared to her, blonde-haired Malcolm Baddock, who had wet his pants on the train, was far more amusing. Since earlier, he had been covering his ears and muttering to himself over and over, "Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin..."

It looked like some sort of self-hypnosis!

Meanwhile, the red-haired twins and their friend, the black-haired boy Lee, were enthusiastically recounting to everyone how they'd managed to scare Malcolm Baddock into wetting himself.

They were eager to be recognized as Gryffindor heroes.

Nolan waited calmly for the Sorting Ceremony to begin, but he felt a tug on his sleeve. Turning his head, he found Cho Chang standing beside him.

"Nolan, which house do you think you'll be in?" she asked.

Nolan shrugged indifferently. "Who knows? Gryffindor, maybe. Or perhaps Slytherin."

The other students were surprised by his nonchalant attitude. But Nolan truly didn't mind. In his view, each of the four houses had its own strengths worth learning from.

Cho leaned closer and whispered, "I hope we end up in the same house. Then I can apologize to you on Marietta's behalf—she's actually a nice person."

"Perhaps," Nolan replied, sounding disinterested.

Shortly after, Professor McGonagall returned and announced, "Now, everyone line up and follow me."

She led the first-years into the Great Hall, which was breathtaking. The ceiling was enchanted to resemble the night sky, with a crescent moon surrounded by wisps of white clouds. Below the magical sky, countless candles floated midair, their flames casting a warm glow over the room. Beneath them were four long tables, each capable of seating over fifty students. The hall buzzed with chatter as upper-year students speculated which newcomers might bring glory to their house.

At the front of the hall, Professor McGonagall placed a tattered, pointy wizard's hat on a chair near the staff table.

The hat twitched at the brim, then opened a wide rip that served as its mouth. With a strange, warbling voice, it began to sing.

Nolan had never heard a song quite so odd. The lyrics were fine, but not a single line rhymed. The hat sang for three full minutes, and when it finally stopped, thunderous applause erupted. It seemed the crowd genuinely appreciated the performance.

Professor McGonagall unrolled a long scroll of parchment and adjusted her frameless glasses. "When I call your name, step forward, sit on the stool, and put on the hat to be sorted."

"Alicia Spinnet!"

The hat barely hesitated. "Gryffindor!"

At once, the table draped in crimson erupted into cheers and applause. Alicia, her face flushed with excitement, quickly removed the hat and practically skipped over to the Gryffindor table.

"Eve Stock!"

The small girl with a princess-like appearance looked as though she were on the verge of tears. She was the smallest of the first-years, and when she placed the hat on her head, it completely swallowed her tiny face.

The hat seemed to deliberate for a long while. Nolan could see Eve's shoulders trembling slightly—she was surely crying.

Finally, the hat spoke. To everyone's surprise, it declared, "Slytherin!"