"Gryffindor!"
The Sorting Hat's booming voice echoed across the Great Hall.
For a moment, I couldn't move. My heart pounded in my ears, drowning out the eruption of applause from the Gryffindor table. Gryffindor. I'd half-expected the hat to say Slytherin… I had felt it weighing that possibility, teasing me with what-ifs. But in the end, it had chosen Gryffindor.
My body moved almost on instinct as I took the hat off and placed it back on the stool. The world felt a little surreal as I stood up, my legs carrying me toward the roaring Gryffindor table where Rose and Hermione were already making room for me.
As I walked past the other tables, I noticed the different reactions. The Gryffindors were ecstatic, clapping and cheering with an energy that filled the hall. The Ravenclaws were giving me curious, calculating looks. The Hufflepuffs… warm and friendly, but some had a hint of uncertainty. But it was the Slytherin table that caught my eye. Malfoy's narrowed gaze followed me, his expression unreadable—though I could sense the disappointment laced with intrigue.
"Ethan!" Rose's voice broke through the noise, her grin wide as she shifted over to give me space beside her.
"Welcome to Gryffindor!" Fred and George chorused in unison, grinning as they clapped me on the back.
"About time," Ron muttered, looking more relieved than anything. "I was starting to think you'd be stuck up there forever."
"Gryffindor, huh?" Hermione's eyes were bright with curiosity. "The hat took its time with you."
"Yeah," I murmured, sliding onto the bench. "It… had a lot to think about."
I wasn't lying.
Because what had happened inside my head when I put on that hat… that was still haunting me.
Few moments before...
As the Sorting Hat settled on my head, everything around me went silent. The Great Hall faded into the background, and I was left alone… with it.
"Ah… another one." The voice echoed softly in my mind, ancient and wise. "But… no… you are… not quite like the others."
I kept still, feeling the weight of the hat's attention pressing down on me.
"Curious…" it murmured. "Very curious indeed. I've sorted thousands of minds, young one… but yours…?"
The hat's voice trailed off, almost… hesitant.
"Something wrong?" I asked, my mental voice calm, but a sliver of unease was starting to creep in.
"Wrong?" The hat gave a soft, mirthless chuckle. "No, not wrong… but what I see…" It paused, and for a brief moment, I felt the hat trying to peer deeper, to see beyond what I was showing.
And it couldn't.
"Fascinating," it whispered, almost in awe. "You're… shielded. I can see pieces of you… flashes of something ancient… powerful… but the rest… hidden. Even from me."
My heart skipped a beat.
"Hidden?" I echoed, keeping my mental voice steady. "From you?"
"Yes…" the hat murmured. "I can see what's on the surface, but beyond that…" It sounded almost… frustrated. "There's something… locked away. Something… or someone… has placed a barrier around parts of your mind. And whatever it is…" The hat paused, as if tasting the words. "Even I cannot pierce it."
I felt a cold chill creep down my spine.
"I didn't do it," I murmured softly.
"Oh, I know," the hat replied. "This is not the work of a child."
It fell silent for a moment, as if considering its next words carefully.
"You're different, Ethan Carter," it finally said, its tone quieter now, almost reverent. "I've never seen a mind quite like yours… and I've been here for a thousand years."
I swallowed, my throat dry. "So… where do I belong?"
"Ah…" the hat's tone shifted, almost relieved to focus on the task at hand. "That is the question, isn't it?"
I felt the hat's mind combing through my thoughts, weighing the traits that stood out the most.
"Gryffindor… you have courage, yes. A heart that beats for others, willing to face danger."
A flicker of warmth filled my chest.
"Ravenclaw… your mind is sharp. Strategic. You value knowledge, but not for the sake of knowing. You seek understanding."
That was true as well.
"Hufflepuff… loyal, unwavering. You would stand beside those you care about, no matter the cost."
That struck a chord somewhere deep inside me.
But then… the hat hesitated.
"And Slytherin…"
My pulse quickened.
"Cunning, ambition… and a fire that burns with potential. You could achieve greatness there." The hat's voice lowered slightly, almost… tempted. "You could change the world from within, Ethan. Shape it as you see fit."
The weight of the choice pressed down on me.
"But I cannot see where you truly belong," the hat admitted, and for the first time… it sounded almost unsure. "Your path is… clouded. Shrouded in mystery and power beyond my understanding. I can see where you could thrive… but not where you should."
"Then…" I whispered in my mind, "you're leaving the choice to me?"
"Yes," the hat said softly. "But… I sense where your heart leans. Where you would find the strength to be who you were meant to be. Perhaps… that is where you should go."
My heart was pounding now.
"Gryffindor, then," I whispered.
The hat was silent for a moment… and then…
"Gryffindor!"
Present...
A few more names were called—"Parkinson, Pansy" went to Slytherin (big shock), "Patil, Padma" and "Patil, Parvati" were separated between Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, and "Thomas, Dean" joined our table to loud cheers.
"Turpin, Lisa," went to Ravenclaw.
Finally, the last name was called. "Zabini, Blaise."
The tall, dark-skinned boy sauntered forward with a cool confidence, placing the hat on his head. It barely took a few seconds before shouting, "Slytherin!"
With that, the Sorting was over. Professor McGonagall carried the Sorting Hat and the stool away, and the hall fell into an expectant hush.
Then, the man sitting in the center of the teachers' table stood up.
Albus Dumbledore
His long silver beard reached down to his chest, and his half-moon spectacles twinkled as he surveyed us with a kind, yet unreadable expression. He raised his hands, his deep voice carrying effortlessly across the hall.
"Welcome!" Dumbledore beamed, his blue eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I have a few words to say. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
Silence.
Then, a few chuckles from the older students.
But just as the murmurs of laughter died down, Dumbledore's expression sobered, his gaze sweeping across the hall with a hint of seriousness.
"Now, a few more words before we begin," he said, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable weight. "I must remind you all that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is strictly forbidden… to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Painful death?
I felt my eyebrows raise slightly, but I forced my expression to stay neutral. Hermione, sitting beside me, looked genuinely alarmed. Even Ron, who had been eyeing the food eagerly, blinked in surprise.
"Why would they leave something so dangerous here?" I murmured softly under my breath.
"Maybe it's a bluff," Rose whispered back, though her tone didn't sound convinced.
But I knew better. There was no bluff. The third-floor corridor was hiding something dangerous. Something important. Something… related to the Sorcerer's Stone.
Dumbledore's next words brought a slight shift in the atmosphere.
"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to remind you that the list of banned items has been posted in his office," Dumbledore added, his lips twitching with amusement. "The list, I believe, now includes over four hundred items… including Screaming Yo-yos, Fanged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs. I highly recommend not testing his patience this year."
Fred and George exchanged a glance, their eyes glinting with mischief. I had a feeling they already had plans to test Filch's patience, list or no list.
"Alright then," Dumbledore said cheerfully, clapping his hands together. "Tuck in!"
And just like that—
Food. Everywhere.
Golden platters that had been empty just moments before were now stacked with food. Roasted chicken, steaming mashed potatoes, thick cuts of steak, fresh bread, vegetables, gravies, pies, puddings—it was like an entire feast had appeared out of nowhere.
Ron made an actual gasping sound as he grabbed a drumstick.
"This—" he said, between mouthfuls, "—is—the—best—school—ever."
I shook my head, unable to stop a chuckle.
Hermione, ever the observer, had her eyes darting around the table. "It just… appeared," she murmured. "How does that even—?"
"Magic," I answered simply, grabbing some roasted potatoes.
Hermione shot me a look. "Obviously, but—"
"Magic," I repeated, smirking.
Rose laughed softly, finally relaxing a little as she grabbed some food for herself.
As we ate, I took the chance to glance toward the head table.
Dumbledore, of course, was at the center. To his left sat a tiny wizard with frizzy hair and a large purple turban. Professor Quirrell. He looked nervous, almost twitchy, and was currently avoiding eye contact with everyone.
I felt a slight unease when I glanced at him. My instincts warned me to keep my distance. I knew the truth—Voldemort was hiding beneath that turban. But I forced myself to look away, not wanting to draw attention.
Next to him was a stern-looking witch with black hair tied in a tight bun—Professor McGonagall. Even at the dinner table, she looked like she could give detention with just a glance.
Further down, there was a short, plump man with cheerful eyes—Professor Flitwick, the Charms professor. He was barely visible over the table.
Beside him was a ghostly pale man with greasy black hair and a permanent scowl—Severus Snape.
I felt something prickle at the back of my mind as I watched him, the way his dark eyes flicked over the students with something bordering on disdain. His expression was unreadable, though I caught the slight downturn of his mouth when his gaze landed on Rose at the Gryffindor table.
Then, his eyes flicked toward me.
I didn't look away.
For a second—just a brief second—I could have sworn something in his expression shifted. It wasn't quite anger, but it wasn't neutral either.
It was like he was… considering something.
I narrowed my eyes slightly, not breaking eye contact.
Then Snape turned away, saying something to Professor Sinistra.
Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor prefect, led us through the twisting staircases and moving corridors, pausing every so often to let a staircase finish shifting.
"You'll get used to it," he said in an authoritative tone, pushing up his glasses.
"Or you won't," Ron muttered under his breath, earning a chuckle from me and Rose.
Finally, we reached a portrait of a rather plump woman in a pink dress.
"The Fat Lady," Percy announced. "She guards the entrance to the common room. You'll need the password to get in."
He turned to the portrait. "Caput Draconis."
The portrait swung open, revealing a round hole leading into the common room.
The Gryffindor common room was warm and welcoming, with a roaring fireplace, squashy armchairs, and banners hanging from the walls. The golden-red glow of the fire flickered across the room, making everything feel cozy.
"This," Ron sighed happily, flopping onto one of the couches, "is perfect."
"Agreed," I murmured, glancing around.
Hermione, ever the responsible one, was already talking about schedules and early starts.
I tuned her out, stretching slightly before standing up. "I'm heading up," I said, motioning toward the staircases leading to the dorms.
Rose gave me a tired smile. "Me too. Long day."
As we climbed the stairs to our rooms, I felt it again—that nagging thought at the back of my mind.
The Sorting Hat couldn't see into my mind.
And for the first time… I felt a wave of relief.
Either my Occlumency was working… or maybe… something else was shielding my memories from my past life.
Whichever it was, I was safe.
For now.