As Lucien stepped off the train, he spotted a towering figure with a wild mane of hair and a bushy beard, holding up a lantern. The man's booming voice echoed across the platform.
"First years, over here! Co on, this way!"
"Don't be shy, hurry up!"
Harry Potter broke away from the group and approached the giant with a grin. "Hey, Hagrid."
Hagrid bent down, his face splitting into a warm smile. "Hello, Harry! These your new friends, then?" He glanced at Lucien, Hermione, and Ron standing nearby, his voice like a low rumble.
Harry nodded shyly. "t them on the train."
Hagrid bead at the group. "Welco to Hogwarts, all of you! Right, co along, kids!"
Soon, Hagrid led a gaggle of first-year students to the edge of a dark, shimring lake—the Black Lake. Across the water, Lucien caught his first glimpse of Hogwarts Castle. The towering Gothic structure glowed with scattered lights in the evening dusk, its ancient stones radiating the mystery and magic of a thousand years.
Lucien's heart stirred with excitent. Hogwarts, I'm here.
"Four to a boat, kids!" Hagrid called, climbing into a boat of his own to lead the way.
Lucien naturally grouped with Harry, Ron, and Hermione, their boat gliding behind Hagrid's. From behind, Hagrid looked like a small mountain, his boat sitting much lower in the water than theirs.
This route across the lake, Lucien had heard, was the sa one taken by Hogwarts' four founders. Every year, first-years followed it as a tradition, a rite of passage.
"Hey, which house are you all hoping for?" Ron leaned in, whispering conspiratorially.
Seeing that so of his friends might not know the system, Ron launched into an explanation. "Hogwarts has four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each has its own vibe and qualities…"
He trailed off, shrugging. "Dunno where you lot will end up, but I'm pretty much guaranteed Gryffindor."
Red-haired Weasleys always ended up in Gryffindor, no exceptions.
Harry stayed quiet. After Ron's rundown, he wasn't keen on Slytherin but felt any of the other three would do.
Hermione, trying to ta her bushy hair against the chilly breeze, chid in. "I think Gryffindor's the best—Dumbledore himself was a Gryffindor! But Ravenclaw sounds great too. It seems like the place for serious studying."
Ron smirked. "My brother says Ravenclaw's full of bookworms. Boring lot."
Hermione's lips curled into a smug smile. "Oh? Maybe so people just don't have what it takes to be a Ravenclaw."
Ignoring Ron's reddening face, she turned to Lucien. "What about you, Lucien? Any house you're aiming for?"
Lucien shrugged. "No preference, really. I'll learn magic wherever I end up."
---
The boats soon reached the shore, and Hagrid led the first-years to a massive oak door. With a creak, it swung open, revealing Professor McGonagall in her erald-green robes.
"Professor McGonagall, the first-years are all here," Hagrid said, gesturing behind him.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take it from here." She turned to the students. "Follow , children."
Stepping into the castle was like entering another world. Unlike the cold, dark night outside, the interior was warm and bright, with torches lining the walls and countless candles floating in midair. The ceiling above shimred like a starry sky, drawing gasps from the awestruck first-years, who craned their necks to take it all in.
The Great Hall was lined with long tables packed with older students. At the far end, a raised platform held a single table where the professors sat, most watching the new arrivals with kind, curious eyes.
McGonagall stopped before the platform, her expression stern as she addressed the group. "I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress and Head of Gryffindor House. Welco to Hogwarts. Before the Opening Feast, we will hold the Sorting Ceremony, where you will be placed into one of four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. Your house will be your family during your ti here. Your achievents will earn points for your house, while rule-breaking will cost them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points wins the House Cup."
As she finished, a tattered, patched grayish-brown hat on a stool suddenly split open at the brim, its raspy voice bursting into song:
"It's my turn, my turn!
You may think I'm not much to look at, but don't judge by appearances…
Perhaps you belong in Gryffindor, where bravery dwells in the heart;
Or maybe Hufflepuff, where loyalty and fairness reign…"
Most of the first-years stared, amazed that a hat could sing, though few paid attention to the lyrics—it wasn't exactly a chart-topping performance. When the Sorting Hat finally finished, it fell silent, looking quite pleased with itself.
McGonagall lifted the hat and unrolled a list of nas. "When I call your na, co forward."
"Hannah Abbott."
Lucien watched as a rosy-cheeked girl with two blonde braids stepped up nervously. The legendary Hannah, first to be sorted every ti, he thought with a smirk.
McGonagall placed the hat on Hannah's head. It barely hesitated before shouting, "Hufflepuff!"
The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers. Their first student of the year—a good on. Ti to celebrate with extra helpings at the feast!
"…"
"Hermione Granger."
Hermione took a few deep breaths before stepping forward. The hat sat on her head for what felt like ages—nearly five minutes—before declaring, "Gryffindor!"
Ron leaned over to Harry, whispering, "She teased about not having Ravenclaw qualities, and she didn't even get sorted there herself."
He'd heard from his parents and brothers that the longer the Sorting Hat took, the more qualities a student had that could fit multiple houses. So, Hermione likely had Ravenclaw traits, but Ron couldn't resist a jab.
Harry didn't respond, his attention fixed on the next na, curious about where Lucien would end up.
"Lucien Grafton."
As Lucien stepped forward, McGonagall gave him a rare smile. The Sorting Hat was placed on his head, its brim pursed tightly, its eye-like patches twitching as if deep in thought.
One minute passed.
Three minutes.
Five.
Ten.
As ti dragged on, McGonagall's expression grew stranger. When she was sorted, the hat had taken five minutes—a long ti, earning her the nickna "Hatstall." But Lucien's sorting was taking far longer.
The professors at the staff table exchanged surprised glances. This was the longest sorting they'd ever witnessed. Dumbledore, seated in the center, clasped his hands, his blue eyes glinting behind half-moon spectacles, his interest in Lucien deepening.
The waiting first-years grew restless, whispering among themselves.
"Is the hat broken?"
"Can magical artifacts even break?"
"It looks ancient, though. Kinda ridiculous how old it is."
Harry, who'd been staring at Lucien, rubbed his dry eyes and adjusted his glasses. Then, his erald eyes widened in shock. "Professor!" he blurted. "The hat's smoking!"
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