Chapter 81: The Eve of Sorting
In the quiet night, the first-year students of Hogwarts were whispering anxiously to one another.
Dong. Dong. Dong.
Three loud knocks echoed, silencing the chatter and snapping Alexander Smith out of his thoughts.
It turned out to be Hagrid. He had knocked forcefully on the door with his massive fist.
The door swung open immediately.
Standing before them was a tall, stern-looking witch with black hair, clad in an emerald-green robe. This was Professor Minerva McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and the Transfiguration professor.
She briefly exchanged greetings with Hagrid before elegantly drawing her wand and tapping the large oak doors.
The doors slowly creaked open, revealing an enormous, grand hall. The space was vast enough to accommodate dozens of trucks. The stone floor gleamed under the torchlight, the high ceilings arched above them, and magnificent marble staircases spiraled upwards.
Led by Professor McGonagall, the new students were guided into a small, empty room at the far end of the hall.
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat and began to speak.
She welcomed the students to Hogwarts, then introduced the Sorting Ceremony and the four Houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.
"The most important thing," she said firmly, "is that your House will be like your family while you are at Hogwarts."
"Oh, isn't this just the usual speech?" Alexander thought, rolling his eyes inwardly.
He'd heard too many similar speeches during the nine years of compulsory education in his past life. His ears had grown calloused to these clichés.
Harry and the others nearby looked a bit overwhelmed, as if unsure what to make of it all. That confusion would vanish soon enough—once they started losing House points.
When Professor McGonagall mentioned Slytherin, Alexander noticed the look on Ron's face—it was as if someone had just said a dirty word.
Professor McGonagall went on to explain the House Points system. Good behavior and academic excellence would earn points for their House. Misbehavior or breaking the rules would cost them points.
At the end of the year, the House with the highest total would receive the House Cup—an honor held in high regard.
Ron was beginning to look distracted, and his stomach let out an audible growl. He was clearly thinking more about food than House Cups.
Meanwhile, Hermione and Draco Malfoy appeared as though they'd already claimed victory for their future Houses.
Alexander, however, couldn't help but feel all of this was just a way to manipulate children with social pressure. In his opinion, as long as one had no moral attachments, such tactics were useless. Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw rarely cared about the point system—only Gryffindor and Slytherin took it seriously, sometimes even to the point of isolating others.
"In a few minutes, the Sorting Ceremony will begin in front of the entire school," Professor McGonagall concluded. Her eyes drifted over Neville's cloak, which was tied under his left ear, and the smudge of dirt on Ron's nose. Harry nervously tried to smooth his hair down.
Professor McGonagall didn't react to Harry's untamed hair. Clearly, she understood it was hereditary. No matter what the Potters tried—shampoo or charms—their hair simply refused to cooperate. Meanwhile, useless Galleons kept pouring into the Potter family's vaults.
"When the hall is ready, I will return to escort you," Professor McGonagall said. "Please remain quiet in the meantime."
As soon as she left, the room burst into chatter. The noise felt oddly comforting to Alexander—familiar even.
Harry, unable to contain his anxiety, asked Ron how the Sorting Ceremony worked.
Ron, however, was just as clueless.
The room quickly filled with wild theories: some believed they'd be tested with an exam; others claimed they'd have to fight a dragon or pass a psychological evaluation.
Hermione ignored the speculation and continued muttering spells she had memorized. The more she recited, the paler Harry's face became.
Ron, on the other hand, just clutched his stomach and dreamt about dinner.
Just as Alexander was about to put Harry out of his misery and tell him the truth, a wave of gasps swept through the room.
Ghosts—around twenty of them—floated in through the wall. Pale and translucent, they hovered in the air, chatting among themselves and completely ignoring the nervous first-years.
The conversation among the ghosts centered around Peeves. Should he be expelled from ghosthood? Did he deserve a second chance?
"What are you doing here?" asked a ghost in elaborate ruffled clothing. It was Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington—better known as Nearly Headless Nick, the resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.
None of the first-years dared to respond.
Alexander, meanwhile, was chatting with Penelope and Kate in the auditorium, far less fazed by the ghostly presence.
"New students, I see!" said the Fat Friar cheerfully. "You're probably preparing for the test, right?"
Still, no one responded—just timid nods.
"I hope you get sorted into Hufflepuff!" the Friar added warmly. "I used to be in that House myself."
His gentle, serene presence reminded everyone that he'd once been a man of the cloth—almost chosen as the Pope.
At that moment, Professor McGonagall returned.
"Form a line," she instructed. The ghosts drifted back through the wall and disappeared.
The students followed McGonagall through the grand foyer and through a set of towering double doors.
What greeted them was a magical sight: the Great Hall, vast and resplendent.
Four long tables stretched across the room, each draped in the colors of the four Houses—green, red, blue, and yellow. Floating candles illuminated the space from above, casting a warm glow.
Golden plates and goblets sparkled on the tables.
At the front of the hall was another long table—where the professors sat. McGonagall led the new students up there and had them line up in front of the entire school.
The scene was intimidating. As Alexander glanced around, he realized hundreds of faces—glowing in the candlelight like pale lanterns—were all looking at them. Even ghosts were mixed in among the students, glowing with a soft silver hue.
The most powerful white wizard—Albus Dumbledore—and the infamous Dark Lord—Tom Riddle—were seated behind him. Not far away, Kate winked at him from the Ravenclaw table, and Penelope gave him a calm smile as she held a goblet in her hand.
To avoid embarrassment, Alexander turned away quickly. Harry, meanwhile, was looking up at the enchanted ceiling, which resembled the night sky. It gave the illusion that they were dining under the stars.
Hermione leaned over and whispered, "It's a charm. It reflects the real sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
Ron, impressed, praised her knowledge—forgetting entirely that a teacher was right behind them, and his older brothers were watching from the Gryffindor table.
Alexander caught the Weasley twins whispering and laughing. Though separated by the crowd, he didn't need super hearing to read their lips.
"That redhead's our brother," they were saying. "Is that his girlfriend?"
Meanwhile, Percy Weasley sat nearby, looking disapproving and frowning deeply.
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