The applause started the moment Tyler Blake reached the Gryffindor table. Hands clapped up and down the long row, louder and warmer than the usual welcome for a first-year, because Tyler had not only joined their house—he had somehow earned Gryffindor twenty points before the feast had even begun.
"You were brilliant, Tyler!" Harry said as Tyler dropped into the seat beside him. His face was bright with relief, and the smile he wore was far more honest than the nervous one he had carried through most of the Sorting.
Harry had only just found his first real friend, and the thought of being separated from him had clearly been weighing on him. It was already bad enough that Jamie had gone to Slytherin; if Tyler had been sent somewhere else too, Harry might have felt completely stranded.
"Tyler! Congratulations on Gryffindor," Fred said, sliding in from one side before Tyler had even settled properly. George appeared on the other a heartbeat later, squeezing in with the same shameless confidence, as if the bench had been built especially for their mischief.
"Thanks," Tyler said, glancing between the twins with a faint smile. "I chose Gryffindor because you lot are here. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff would have been fine too, but this table seemed like the most interesting one."
That was only half the truth. The real reason, of course, was Harry Potter; where the protagonist went, strange opportunities were bound to follow, and Tyler had no intention of standing too far away from the centre of the storm.
"Ron Weasley!"
The Sorting continued, and when Professor McGonagall called Ron's name, the red-haired boy stumbled out of the line of first-years as if his legs had briefly forgotten their job. His face was pale with nerves as the Sorting Hat slipped over his eyes, nearly swallowing his ears.
"Gryffindor!"
The decision came almost instantly. Just as Malfoys always seemed to find their way to Slytherin, Weasleys had a long history of ending up in Gryffindor, and the Sorting Hat clearly had its own method for recognising the shape of a family's heart.
"Thank Merlin," Ron muttered as he hurried to the Gryffindor table. He dropped heavily into the seat on Harry's other side, looking as if he had escaped a trial rather than completed a school ceremony, while Gryffindor welcomed him with another burst of applause.
"Little Ronnie, Gryffindor?" Fred said, leaning forward with exaggerated horror. "Blimey, that's a shock. We were certain you'd go to Hufflepuff."
"Absolutely certain," George added, clutching his chest as if personally wounded. "You've stunned us all, Ron. Gryffindor may never recover from this surprise."
"Fred. George." Percy Weasley turned with a sharp frown, his prefect badge gleaming on his robes. "Don't talk rubbish. Members of the Weasley family have always been sorted into Gryffindor."
Fred leaned closer to Tyler and lowered his voice just enough to pretend he was being discreet. "Percy's been insufferable since he became a prefect. You'd think he'd been appointed Supreme Ruler of Hogwarts."
"Bill and Charlie were prefects too," George whispered from Tyler's other side. "They never strutted about like this. Percy treats his own brothers like underlings, and he isn't even Minister for Magic yet."
"He also tells Mum everything," Fred added darkly. "That's the worst bit. A dangerous man, Percy."
Tyler smiled without answering. It was easy to see the difference between Percy and the twins: Percy was the sort of student professors and parents praised, while Fred and George were the sort they chased through corridors, wrote letters home about, and secretly remembered with headaches. Between the two types, Tyler already knew which was more fun to sit beside.
After Ron, the final first-year, Blaise Zabini, was sorted into Slytherin, and the ceremony finally came to an end. Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment, lifted the Sorting Hat from the stool, and carried both away with her usual brisk dignity.
At the staff table, Dumbledore rose. The Headmaster looked out across the Great Hall with a warm, sparkling smile, his arms opening as if he meant to embrace every student at once.
"Welcome!" he said, his voice carrying easily beneath the enchanted ceiling. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts, and welcome especially to our newest young witches and wizards."
A hush settled over the hall. Hundreds of students watched him expectantly, waiting for whatever grand wisdom the greatest wizard of the age had prepared for the start-of-term feast.
"But before the banquet begins, I have a few words for you," Dumbledore continued. His blue eyes twinkled behind his half-moon spectacles. "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
He paused, gave the hall a satisfied little nod, and bowed. "Thank you."
For a moment, the Great Hall was caught between silence and confusion. Then scattered applause broke out, mostly because everyone knew one was supposed to clap when the Headmaster finished speaking, even if no one had the faintest idea what he had just said.
"Er, Tyler?" Harry leaned closer, his brows pulled together. "Do you know what that was supposed to mean? Because it sounded a bit mad."
"It wasn't madness," Tyler said quietly. "Those words have meaning. They just aren't the sort of thing most people would bother explaining."
Harry blinked. Ron, who had been reaching for his goblet though nothing had appeared yet, stopped and looked over as well. Fred and George fell silent with matching expressions of interest, and even a few nearby Gryffindors turned their heads.
"'Nitwit' means fool, or someone stupid," Tyler said. "Ravenclaws are known for intelligence, so from their point of view, students who don't enter Ravenclaw might look like fools who failed to value wisdom enough."
Harry's eyes widened slightly. It had clearly never occurred to him that Dumbledore's nonsense might be aimed at the houses themselves.
"'Blubber' can mean crying, but it also suggests softness," Tyler continued. "Gryffindors pride themselves on courage, so they sometimes look down on people who seem timid, fragile, or unwilling to charge straight into danger."
Ron frowned, then glanced toward the Ravenclaw table as if checking whether they had known all along. Fred and George exchanged a look, their grins fading into something more thoughtful.
"'Oddment' comes from scraps and leftovers," Tyler said. "Slytherin cares deeply about lineage, unity, and belonging. To the more arrogant ones, anyone outside their circle may seem like loose fragments that don't fit into anything proper."
A few Gryffindors made faces at that, and across the hall, some Slytherins looked vaguely offended without knowing why. Tyler kept his voice level, as if he were discussing a lesson rather than describing generations of house prejudice.
"And 'tweak' suggests adjustment," Tyler finished. "Hufflepuffs are steady, fair, and hardworking. They probably wish the other houses would stop being so extreme and simply fix themselves."
Harry stared at him as if Tyler had just translated an ancient prophecy. "So Dumbledore was talking about how the houses see one another?"
"Maybe," Tyler said. "It may be the Headmaster's idea of humour, or maybe he was reminding everyone that the houses are divided by old habits and lazy assumptions. The problem is that Professor Dumbledore may have forgotten that not everyone is as wise as he is, so most people simply hear him say nonsense and assume he enjoys being eccentric."
At the Gryffindor table, the students nearest Tyler had gone unusually quiet. Farther down, whispers began to ripple outward as those who had heard him passed the explanation along, and the same murmuring spread, in pieces, to the other tables.
At the staff table, Dumbledore suddenly began to clap. The sound was unhurried, bright, and perfectly clear.
"Oh! Well said, Mr. Blake," Dumbledore said, his smile deepening with obvious delight. "You are the first student to interpret my little speech so neatly, and for that, I believe Gryffindor deserves another ten points."
The other professors began applauding as well, some with amusement and some with genuine approval. Professor Snape alone remained still, his expression cold and sour enough to curdle pumpkin juice.
Once the teachers were clapping, the students of all four houses had little choice but to join in. Gryffindor, already thrilled with Tyler, applauded the loudest, and the sound rolled up toward the enchanted ceiling like a wave breaking against the stars.
Harry looked at Tyler with open admiration, while Ron seemed torn between amazement and the faint suspicion that he had accidentally chosen the cleverest seat in the hall. Fred and George, meanwhile, were grinning again, though now their smiles held a sharper sort of curiosity.
The applause spread across every table, filling the Great Hall until even the rustle of robes and the creak of benches disappeared beneath it. The entire Great Hall was suddenly drowned in applause.
.....
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