Chapter 22 — The Sorting
The sight of the castle stole my breath away.
Across the dark lake, Hogwarts rose like something from an old dream. Its windows glowed gold against the black sky, and the turrets reached up so high they looked as if they might touch the stars. The water beneath shimmered with the reflection of the castle's lights, every ripple breaking it into dancing pieces of gold and silver. I'd seen drawings in books before, but nothing compared to this. This was magic made real.
"Four to a boat!" Hagrid's booming voice called, pulling me out of my thoughts.
The first-years began to shuffle down the small dock, where a line of boats bobbed gently on the water. Lanterns hung from their prows, casting long, wavering reflections across the lake's surface. I found a spot in one with three other students — a tall boy with neat brown hair and a confident grin, a quiet girl with freckles, and another boy who looked so nervous he could barely sit still.
"Everyone ready? Right then — FORWARD!" Hagrid bellowed.
The boats glided forward smoothly, as if pulled by invisible hands. No oars dipped into the water, no sound but the gentle splash against the wood and the rustle of cloaks in the night air.
The air was cool and smelled faintly of pine and damp stone. I glanced over the dark surface of the lake and thought how this must have been the same way the Founders themselves once crossed it. It wasn't hard to imagine them — four friends, full of purpose and wonder, approaching this same cliff long ago. Gryffindor's courage, Ravenclaw's wisdom, Hufflepuff's kindness, and Slytherin's ambition — together, they had built this place. The boat ride felt like a quiet tribute to that beginning, as if every new student was retracing their path.
No one spoke for a while. Even the most talkative of us seemed struck dumb by the sight of the towering castle ahead. The lights grew brighter as we neared the far bank, where a small landing waited at the base of the cliff. Hagrid jumped out first.
"Mind yer step! Up this way!" he called, holding his lantern high.
We followed him up a steep, narrow path that wound along the side of the cliff. The stones were slippery with mist, and a few of us stumbled, clutching the cloaks of whoever was nearest. At last, the path leveled off, and we stood before huge oak doors bound with iron, tall enough for a giant to walk through. Hagrid strode forward and knocked three times — each bang echoing through the night like thunder.
The doors opened almost at once. Standing there was a tall witch in emerald-green robes, her hair pulled back into a tight bun and a sharp, intelligent look in her eyes. Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress.
"The first-years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, a little out of breath.
"Thank you, Hagrid," she said crisply. "I'll take them from here."
We followed her into the castle, stepping into a vast stone entrance hall lit by flaming torches. The ceiling arched high above us, and the floor shone like polished marble. The air felt warm and alive, like the building itself was aware of our presence.
We were led into a smaller chamber off the main hall, where the sound of hundreds of voices could be heard through the wall beyond. I guessed the Great Hall lay just ahead. Professor McGonagall turned to face us.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, her voice clear and steady. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony. While you are here, your House will be something like your family. You will have classes with your Housemates, sleep in your House dormitory, and spend free time in your House common room."
She paused, letting that sink in. A few students exchanged nervous glances.
"The four Houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin," she continued. "Each has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. Your triumphs will earn you House points, while rule-breaking will lose points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup."
There was a faint murmur of excitement.
"I shall return when everything is ready," she said. "Please wait quietly."
As she left, the room buzzed to life at once. Whispers filled the air.
"I heard we've got to fight a troll!" someone said.
"No, they make you duel a teacher!" said another.
"I bet it's a test of your wand power," a boy insisted. "My mum said she fainted when she was Sorted."
I smiled to myself and kept quiet. Of course I knew the truth — that it was just a hat — but there was no harm letting the others guess. Their stories were far more interesting.
A few minutes later, the door opened again, and Professor McGonagall reappeared. "We're ready for you," she said. "Form a line and follow me."
We shuffled out of the room, my heart thudding in my chest. The corridor opened into the Great Hall — and even though I'd seen it in pictures, the real thing was beyond imagination.
Four long tables stretched the length of the hall, each crowded with students dressed in black robes. Candles floated above us in midair, their light flickering like tiny stars. The ceiling was enchanted to mirror the night sky — endless black velvet with thousands of sparkling points of light. It was beautiful, and for a moment I forgot to breathe.
At the far end of the hall stood another long table where the teachers sat. I recognized Professor McGonagall's seat, and beside her was a tall man with long silver hair and half-moon spectacles — Albus Dumbledore himself. His blue eyes twinkled as if he knew every secret in the room.
We stopped near the front, where a small stool had been placed. On it lay a battered, old wizard's hat. It looked ordinary enough — a bit dusty, a bit frayed — until the rip near the brim twitched and split open like a mouth.
Then it began to sing.
The song was long and winding, a little off-key, but strangely cheerful. It told of the four founders and how they built the school, of the hat's role in keeping their work alive. A few students giggled at its wobbly notes, but everyone clapped politely when it finished.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a scroll. "When I call your name," she said, "you will come forward, sit on the stool, and place the Sorting Hat on your head. It will decide your House."
The list began.
"Addison, Claire."
The girl with freckles from my boat walked up, trembling slightly. The hat slipped over her ears, paused, and shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"
Applause rang out from the table on the left, and Claire hurried over, smiling in relief.
Names followed one after another — "Bell, Katie!" (Gryffindor) … "Flint, Marcus!" (Slytherin, of course) … "Wood, Oliver!" (Gryffindor) … "Clearwater, Penelope!" (Ravenclaw)...."
I felt my heart beat faster as the list went on. Finally, I heard it.
"Dursley, Arthur!"
For a split second, I froze. Then I stepped forward, my legs suddenly heavy. The Great Hall felt enormous, every eye fixed on me. I climbed onto the stool and pulled the hat over my head.
It slipped down to my eyebrows, and a small voice spoke inside my mind.
"Well, now," the hat murmured. "What have we here? Loyal, honest, but not easily swayed. A kind heart, yet stern when it counts. You don't back down from what you believe is right — admirable, but dangerous at times. Courage, yes. Intelligence, too. Oh, you're a tricky one."
I swallowed, my palms sweating.
"I could put you in Gryffindor," it mused. "Or Ravenclaw, perhaps. Hufflepuff would suit your loyalty and care. You've a bit of all three, really. Not Slytherin — no, that much is certain. But where… where would you like to be?"
The voice grew softer, more curious.
And as I sat there beneath the Hat, the whole hall waiting, I realized it was asking me to choose.
End of Chapter 22 — The Sorting
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