McGonagall turned sharply, her cloak flaring slightly as she began to walk.
Each step she took caused faint emerald runes to shimmer on the stone path beneath her boots, like the castle itself recognized her authority. The students followed behind, eyes wide, whispering quietly to each other as they entered through the ancient gate.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the air grew heavier with magic — not oppressive, but dense, alive. The torches along the walls ignited in cascading waves of gold and green flame, illuminating carvings that seemed to shift ever so slightly when stared at too long.
Dudley whispered to Ron, "Is… is it me, or is the castle staring at us?"
Ron nodded stiffly. "If it is, I'm not staring back."
Harry, however, could feel it — a pulse, like a heartbeat beneath his feet.
Thump... Thump...
He realized it wasn't the floor — it was the castle.
Beelzebub's voice hummed faintly in his mind.
"Living stone. The Founders poured fragments of their souls into this place. Every inch of these walls remembers the age of wonders."
As they passed through the grand archway into the Entrance Hall, a rush of cool wind swept past them — and for a heartbeat, the torches flickered, forming four distinct colors: scarlet, green, blue, and gold.
McGonagall paused, letting the display fade before speaking again.
"You stand in the heart of Hogwarts. Soon, you will each belong to one of its Houses — four branches of a single legacy that stretches back over a thousand years."
She raised her hand slightly, and from the air, faint ghostly outlines of the Founders appeared — not solid, but ethereal echoes — watching the new generation arrive.
Hermione clutched Jophiel tighter as she whispered, "It's like they're welcoming us."
The lantern's flame flickered once, almost in agreement.
Harry simply nodded, eyes locked on the ghostly form of Salazar Slytherin — who for a split second, seemed to glance directly at him.
Then McGonagall's eyes shifted toward the massive oak doors ahead.
"Now," she said, voice soft yet commanding, "the Headmaster and the other Professors await. Follow closely. And remember—show respect."
As she pushed open the doors, golden light spilled out, revealing the Great Hall in all its glory — thousands of candles floating midair, the ceiling reflecting the night sky above, and the staff seated at a long table at the far end.
But unlike before, this time each teacher shimmered faintly with their own magical aura — not just people, but living conduits of their craft.
The Sorting Ceremony had not yet begun, and already, Hogwarts was alive again.
McGonagall stood proudly at the side of the Great Hall, her emerald cloak gleaming in the golden candlelight.
"Take a seat," she said, her sharp voice echoing with authority and faint pride. "What you will see next… will be very magical."
The students shuffled to their places, some wide-eyed, others whispering nervously as the torches dimmed — until only the faint glow of the enchanted ceiling remained.
Then—
WHOOSH!
The central brazier at the front of the hall erupted into an inferno of crimson and gold. Flames twisted and spiraled upward, forming the majestic wings of a phoenix, its cry ringing through the air like the chorus of a hundred bells.
With a single powerful flap, the flaming creature dived toward the ground—
—and exploded in a shower of golden sparks.
When the fire cleared, a tall, regal figure stood where the phoenix had fallen. His robes shimmered like the night sky, laced with constellations that slowly moved as though alive.
Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, had arrived.
His half-moon spectacles glowed faintly from the lingering embers as he smiled at the awestruck students.
"Ah… nothing quite like a warm entrance," he said cheerfully, brushing an ember from his sleeve as if this spectacle were an everyday affair.
The students were still staring when the atmosphere suddenly shifted again — the temperature dropped, and the lights dimmed.
From the far end of the hall, shadows began to move, slithering across the floor like black mist. Glass shattered — several potion vials fell from thin air, their contents bubbling and releasing curls of green smoke that hissed and coiled upward.
A voice — calm, deep, and sharp as a blade — spoke through the haze.
"Honestly… I told him to tone it down this year."
From within the smoke stepped a man — tall, thin, his movements deliberate. His eyes were dark and piercing, his expression cold yet intelligent. His hair fell around his face like slick ink, and contrary to what rumors might have said, his features were more refined, less hooked — though his presence was no less intimidating.
[Insert image of Snape]
At his side trotted a small black puppy with a single white streak on its forehead. The creature sniffed the air, then sat obediently beside him as if guarding its master's very shadow.
Gasps filled the hall.
"Is that—Professor Snape?" one student whispered.
Theo leaned toward Harry. "I thought he was supposed to be terrifying. Why does he have a dog?"
Harry's eyes narrowed slightly.
"He's still terrifying. The dog just makes it worse."
McGonagall pinched the bridge of her nose. "Severus, must you always make an entrance?"
Snape's eyes flicked toward her. "You can hardly speak of restraint, Minerva, considering last year's transfiguration fireworks."
Before McGonagall could reply, the walls began to tremble softly — roots of green light creeping along the stone, twisting into flowers and vines that bloomed instantly under their feet. The scent of earth and morning dew filled the air.
From within a ring of blooming flowers, another figure appeared — stout, kind-faced, and wearing a wide-brimmed hat covered in pollen and petals.
[Insert image of Professor Sprout]
Professor Pomona Sprout smiled warmly, brushing soil off her gloves.
"Goodness gracious, I almost bloomed in the wrong corridor again!" she said cheerily.
The first-years looked around in astonishment, overwhelmed by the sheer display of magic and grandeur.
And then — music.
Soft at first, like wind chimes, but growing into a complex harmony that seemed to play itself in the air. Notes shimmered into visibility, glowing golden as they formed a spiral. Out of the spiral stepped a diminutive man with twinkling eyes, silver hair, and robes embroidered with musical runes.
[Insert image of Fliwick]
Professor Flitwick bowed slightly, the melody fading into a single harmonious note.
"Welcome, young ones," he said with a bright smile. "Hogwarts always enjoys a good audience."
Finally, all eyes turned back to the head table, where Dumbledore stood, spreading his arms.
"Well then," the headmaster said, his voice calm yet resonant, "now that we've all materialized, I suppose we can begin."
He glanced toward a small, ancient stool upon which a battered old hat rested. The moment he raised his hand, the Sorting Hat opened its brim and yawned — literally.
"Already?" it said in a raspy voice. "Didn't even get a moment to nap this time, Albus?"
The students gasped — the hat spoke.
Dumbledore chuckled, eyes twinkling.
"Yes, yes, I'm afraid it's that time again, old friend. Our new generation awaits."
The Great Hall grew silent, every flickering candle leaning in like it too wanted to hear what would happen next.
Snape then looked toward the staff table. "Aren't we forgetting someone?"
The Great Hall doors burst open. A pale, young man hurried inside — robes askew, one hand gripping his hat, the other clutching a stack of parchment.
"I–I'm s-sorry, Headmaster! I w-was delayed!"
Dumbledore's smile was warm and patient. "Ah, Professor Quirrell. No need to apologize. The castle likes to test our composure on the first day."
Quirrell laughed weakly. "Q-quite right, sir. The f-floor near the third corridor decided to shift again. Nearly fell into a staircase that wasn't there a moment ago!"
"Unexpected," Snape muttered dryly.
McGonagall arched an eyebrow but said nothing.
The students—some still damp from the boat incident—watched in awe. This wasn't the quiet, proper welcome they'd imagined. Hogwarts was alive, wild, and utterly unpredictable.
As he reached his seat, Quirrell paused, realizing he'd dropped one of his quills. He crouched quickly to retrieve it, cheeks red as a few students giggled.
Dumbledore merely smiled. "Every year begins with a stumble or two," he said kindly.
"Y-yes," Quirrell murmured, "but hopefully n-not too many."
For the briefest moment, as he straightened, Quirrell's eyes flicked toward the shadows behind the staff table — not at anyone, but as if he were listening for something. Then it was gone, replaced by the familiar nervous twitch.
Then Dumbledore spread his arms wide, his deep blue robes shimmering like a night sky. "Welcome," he declared, voice echoing through the Great Hall, "to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Here, magic is not merely learned—it lives within us all."
Quirrell's smile faltered for half a second, as though the words struck a private nerve".
As he spoke, the enchanted ceiling above shimmered with stars and stormlight, and the floating candles reignited, illuminating the hall in gold.
Then, with a flick of his wand, the Sorting Hat appeared—sailing down through the air before landing neatly on a stool.
"Now," Dumbledore said with a twinkle in his eye, "let us begin."
Dumbledore then spoke. "Now, before we officially start, a lot of you, know about the 4 Noble Clans, Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw".
A lot of the students nodded, did Muggle-born students where Confused.
Dumbledore then spoke. "And with great Honour, some of their Heirs to their Houses are with us, which allows me to welcome them, the ones that joined Hogwarts that is".
Dumbledore got up as he cast a spell, with names showing up.
"Neville Longbottom, Heir to the House of Raven in Clan Ravenclaw"
The Ravenclaw students looked at him with respect.
"Draco Malfoy, Heir to the house of Viper of Clan Slytherin".
Draco gave that typically smug look as he got up Some Slytherins clapped, and others rolled their eyes.
"Daphne Greengrass, heir to house Amphisbaena, of Slytherin Clan".
Daphne got up as she smirked at all the students there.
"Theo Nott Second Heir Of House of Apophis".
Theo got up, but he didn't get enough claps from the Slytherin student to do his Second Heir title.
Dumbledore's voice then rang again, this time a bit more surprised. "Now this next one is a bit of a surprise, as this house in the Slyther Clan, has been dead, but recently one has been found, and he is the current Head, you Slytherin have heard of him, and even seen him".
"Harry James Potter Head Of House Hydra, of Clan Slytherin".
Everyone who already didn't know, turned their head to the boy who lived. It was one thing to hear his name, but another to hear that the boy who lived was part of the Slytherin Clan and not Gryffindor. Students started to murmur as Dumbledore continued.
"Susan Boons Heir of House Bai Ze of Clan Gryffindore".
Everyone looked for the students then came a small Voice from a red-haired student which sounded soft and cute and tiny
Because she was tiny, they all turned around to see the smallest first year, a few inches shorter than the other.
"Me, I am here"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled kindly as he leaned forward, spotting the tiny red-haired girl standing on her tiptoes so she could be seen.
"Yes indeed, Miss Bones," he said with a proud smile. "A true Gryffindor spirit, brave enough to speak up even when surrounded by giants."
A wave of warm laughter rolled through the Great Hall, and Susan blushed deeply but smiled, sitting back down as the Gryffindor table erupted into supportive cheers.
Even McGonagall's stern lips curved into the faintest trace of a smile.
Then Dumbledore waved his wand again, and golden letters shimmered in the air once more.
"Now, continuing," he said, his tone gaining a ceremonial echo as each word resonated with a faint hum of magic, "Hannah Abbott, heir to the House of Cerastes, of Clan Hufflepuff."
A few soft claps rose from the Hufflepuff table as Hannah waved shyly, her round face glowing with pride.
"Ernie Macmillan, heir to House Gorgon of Clan Hufflepuff."
Ernie stood taller, puffing out his chest. "An honour, sir!" he declared loudly—causing a few chuckles and a muffled sigh from McGonagall.
Dumbledore nodded approvingly, his eyes sweeping across the hall. "These heirs are the descendants of Hogwarts' four Noble Clans, each with ancient bloodlines, magical traditions, and duties that once helped shape the very foundation of our world. It is important you all remember—"
He paused, his tone softening into something both wise and heavy.
"Bloodlines are heritage, but not destiny. What you choose to do with your magic… that is what defines who you are."
The murmurs faded into silence at that, the meaning sinking in even for those who didn't yet understand.
Then, as if the atmosphere itself shifted, Dumbledore smiled again.
"And now… let us begin the Sorting!"
The Sorting Hat twitched and yawned, its patched mouth opening wide as it began to sing a new, hauntingly beautiful song—one that spoke not only of courage, wisdom, loyalty, and ambition, but of balance, and the burden of legacy.
The Sorting Hat gave a mighty yawn, then straightened itself on the stool like it was about to perform an opera that no one asked for. The Great Hall went silent.
Then—
🎵
"Ohhhh gather round you foolish lot,
Your destiny's been bought and caught!
By founders four and beasts of yore,
Whose egos filled each corridor!"
🎵
The students blinked.
🎵
"I've seen the rise of noble clans,
With serpents, lions, badgers' plans!
And ravens squawk of wisdom bright—
(Though none of them could spell it right!)"
🎵
At this point, some of the ghosts were already hovering toward the ceiling to save their incorporeal ears.
🎵
"Oh, Gryffindor roars loud and proud,
Their courage shakes both sky and cloud!
But bravery's not thinking twice—
It's jumping first, and paying the price!"
🎵
🎵
"And Slytherin, oh cunning brood,
You twist your schemes (sometimes for good).
Your heirs of snakes and hydras fine—
Please stop trying to poison the wine!"
🎵
🎵
"Hufflepuff, oh dear sweet souls,
You'll sweep the floors and fill the bowls!
But never mock their loyal heart—
They'll hex you twice for being smart!"
🎵
🎵
"Ravenclaw with brains so vast,
They'll argue till you breathe your last!
The stars above and books below,
They'll quote you things you didn't know!"
🎵
By now, a few Muggle-borns were covering their ears; one Slytherin had whispered, "Is this punishment?"
🎵
"And now new heirs of houses rise,
With ancient magic in their eyes!
Of Hydra, Raven, Viper's den—
May your tuition never end!"
🎵
🎵
"For Hogwarts stands through night and day,
Weird songs and ghosts won't go away!
So wear me well, and hold on tight—
I'll haunt your dreams again tonight!"
🎵
The final note lasted a full twenty seconds, echoing through the Great Hall like a banshee's wail. Candles flickered, and the first years looked traumatized.
Then silence.
Absolute silence.
Harry slowly turned to Theo and muttered under his breath, "If Tristan or Rosa heard that, they'd sue this place into bankruptcy—financially, magically, and Muggly."
Theo nodded solemnly. "...And they'd win."
McGonagall clapped politely once. "Thank you, Hat," she said through gritted teeth. "Now, let us never do that again. Sorting time."
It was honestly funny — the fact that both students and teachers had to suffer through the Sorting Hat's "musical assault" every single year. You could tell by the dead-eyed stare of some of the older students and the way Snape massaged the bridge of his nose, that this was a yearly war crime disguised as "tradition."
Then, the actual Sorting began.
One by one, the heirs were called — each getting sorted into the houses tied to their clans, as expected.
Except… two.
When Neville Longbottom — heir to the Raven line — was sorted into Gryffindor, the table exploded.
"WHAT—?!" shouted a fifth-year Ravenclaw. "TRAITOR TO YOUR BLOODLINE!"
And when Susan Bones — heir to the Bai Ze of Gryffindor — was sorted into Hufflepuff, the other side of the room went wild.
"THEY STOLE OUR HEIR!" screamed a Gryffindor, standing on the bench.
Hufflepuffs, meanwhile, were already hugging Susan like they'd just won the House Cup early.
Dumbledore had to raise both hands, his voice magically amplified.
"Now, now, everyone calm down! Hogwarts decides where you belong. Sometimes even destiny enjoys irony!"
The chaos simmered down, but barely.
Dudley and Ron both ended up in Hufflepuff.
To everyone's shock — Dudley Dursley actually got a few cheers, mostly from students who respected the sheer shock value of a Muggle-born cousin of the Boy-Who-Lived joining the most chill house in Hogwarts.
Ron, meanwhile, muttered something about food and naps, and instantly fit in.
Then came Hermione.
The moment the hat touched her head, her lantern flared softly with white light. The Hat paused… then chuckled, its voice ancient and amused, heard only by her.
"I see… it's been a long time, Jophiel."
Hermione blinked, frozen.
The Hat spoke louder for everyone else.
"RAVENCLAW!"
And as she walked to the table, the lamp dimmed again, as if sleeping.
Finally, it was Harry's turn.
The hall went completely quiet — not a whisper, not a breath.
As soon as the Hat touched his head, a wave of strange magic rippled through the hall. Every candle flickered green for a moment, and the lake outside briefly bubbled like something massive had stirred.
Inside his mind, the Hat's voice was different. Ancient. Wary.
"…Well now. A wielder of Gluttony, are you?"
Harry froze.
"I haven't sorted one like you since… R.A.B."
Beelzebub hummed softly in Harry's mind, amusement lacing his voice. "Ah. So the old hat still remembers him. Interesting."
The Hat was silent for a few seconds longer before it spoke aloud.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The cheer that erupted was loud and divided — half admiration, half shock.
Because "The Boy Who Lived" had just joined the most feared house in Hogwarts.
And deep inside, Harry already knew… this year was going to be anything but normal.
To be continued
Hope people like this ch and give me power stones and enjoy