The sorting
August passed in a blur of pages and ink, of candlelit nights hunched over books filled with impossible knowledge. Adela devoured them all with the hunger of someone trying to make up for lost time. History, theory, even the books that weren't on her required reading list, she needed to know everything. She traced diagrams of wand movements in her notebooks, memorized lists of potion ingredients, and whispered incantations under her breath, though she resisted the urge to actually try any spells. Something told her that magic, raw and unpredictable, was not something to be wielded recklessly. There would be time to learn properly, under guidance, and she was patient enough to wait.
Then, one morning, a week before September 1st, an owl arrived, tapping insistently against her window. Adela scrambled to unlatch it, her heart hammering as she retrieved the envelope. She had grown used to the peculiar mail system. Inside, along with a short note welcoming her once more, was her ticket: Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, September 1st.
She ran her fingers over the words, the corners of her lips quirking up. Hidden. Of course, it would be. A test, perhaps. But she had already pieced together that the magical world thrived on secrecy. She would find it.
On the morning of September 1st, she got dressed in her cutest clothes, applied some concealer, blush and mascara and packed her trunk carefully, making sure her many supplies were safe and protected. Her cat, curled at the edge of her bed, flicked its tail lazily as if sensing the importance of the day. She left a note for Mrs. Cole, keeping it simple:
I've received a scholarship to a school in Scotland. I'll be away for at least the year. Thank you for everything.
No goodbyes. Just an explanation. It was better this way.
"C'mon, Milo" she said, and her cat jumped into the carrier.
With her trunk rolling behind her and her cat's carrier in her other hand, she walked to King's Cross, the morning rush of London washing over her like a tide. The station stood ahead, bustling with travelers, and she hesitated only briefly before stepping inside.
Platform 9. Platform 10.
And nothing in between.
Frowning, she paced, scanning for anything out of place. The people around her rushed past, unseeing, unbothered. If there was a way in, it wasn't obvious. Just as she considered waiting to see if anyone suspiciously dressed in robes appeared, movement caught her eye, a small girl carrying a trunk bigger than her, moving toward the wall between the platforms, her family trailing behind her. Adela watched, heart pounding, as the girl stepped forward and vanished.
She stood frozen for a few seconds, looking at the solid brick wall where the girl had just disappeared. Then, out of the corner of hey eye, a tall, extremely pale girl with light, blonde and long hair was skipping dreamily towards the barrier, a happy smile on her face.
Her feet moved before she could think better of it.
"Excuse me!" she called, hurrying after her.
The girl turned, blinking wide, silvery eyes at her.
"Hello! Do you need something?" her voice was quiet and airy, extremely light.
Adela hesitated. "I—This might sound ridiculous, but, are you also going there?" she said, pointing hesitantly at the barrier.
"Oh," the girl said, tilting her head slightly, as if this was the most natural thing in the world. "Are you a first year? You don't look like one."
"Not exactly. It's... a long story."
The girl studied her for a moment, then smiled. "I see. Well, you just have to walk straight through the barrier. I can go with you if you'd like."
Adela let out a breath, relieved. "That would be nice."
And so, side by side, they stepped through.
The platform was alive with movement, steam curling in thick plumes around students in black robes and families saying their goodbyes. The Hogwarts Express gleamed under the golden morning light, its doors open, beckoning.
"What's your name?," the girl asked as they boarded. "I'm Luna Lovegood."
"Adela"
Luna led her to a compartment already occupied by two students, one with bright red hair and a warm smile, the other with a round face and kind eyes.
"This is Ginny Weasley," Luna said, gesturing to the redhead, "and Neville Longbottom." The girl and the boy smiled and nodded in welcome, and Adela noticed how he looked down, embarrassed, his cheeks becoming a dark shade of crimson. She smiled to herself, her confidence boosted. Cute.
Adela sat very slowly, looking between them. "I hope it's alright if I sit here. I don't really know anyone."
"Of course!" Ginny said brightly. "Nice outfit" she said, and Adela decided she was being honest, by the genuine smile on her face. She looked down at her outfit, belonging very obviously to a Muggle (non-magic folk, as she had read in the countless history books she had bought), and found it was the same exact one she had worn to the Leaky Cauldron. She didn't have many clothes. "Thanks!" she replied with a small smile.
"You're new, then?"
"Yes." She hesitated before adding, "It's...complicated."
That piqued their curiosity, and soon she found herself telling them about her unusual arrival at Hogwarts, how she had grown up outside the magical world, how she had only recently learned of her nature. When she admitted she had read every book she could get her hands on, but still felt utterly unprepared, Neville chuckled.
"You sound like Hermione when she started," he said very quietly, with a small smile. "She memorized everything before we even got to school."
Adela smiled, but a hint of worry flickered in her chest. "I just don't want to mess up."
"You won't," Ginny reassured her. "Besides, you've got us now. We'll help with anything you need."
Luna nodded sagely. "Yes. And it's good to take notes. I think the Nargles stay away when people are well prepared."
Adela blinked, unsure how to respond to that, but decided to simply nod in agreement and thank them for their help. They spent the rest of the train ride talking, her new friends filling in the gaps of her knowledge, laughing when she scrawled furiously in her notebook. By the time the train began to slow, she already felt lighter, the weight of uncertainty lifting ever so slightly.
"I really hope you're in Gryffindor" said Ginny fondly, "it's the best house, and you'd be with Neville and me" she smiled and elbowed Neville lightly in the ribs, who looked up and nervously smiled. "Besides, I think you would really like Hermione, too. You guys seem to have similar tastes". They grabbed their trunks and stepped out of the train.
The castle loomed ahead, impossibly grand, its turrets stretching toward the storm-colored sky. Lanterns flickered in the growing twilight as students disembarked. Adela stood there, dumfounded while watching the scenery. "This is Hogwarts? It looks like a medieval gothic cathedral!" Art was one of the many subjects that she had studied on her own, trying to pass the long hours at the orphanage. "When was it built?" she turned to ask her new friends, but they had started walking towards the carriages, apparently haven't had heard her and used to the sight. She was kind of glad for it, she didn't want to seem like an insufferable bookworm just yet.
She hurried and caught up with them, climbing into an empty seat in one of the carriages. After a few seconds they started moving, an Adela turned to look at the horse that was pulling it, for she had always loved animals. Only, it wasn't a horse.
"What's pulling the carriage? she asked the group, with a mix of intrigue, fear and fascination.
"Those are thestrals" replied Ginny, "they're kinda like horses, but a magical version of them", she simplified. Luna opened her mouth to refute, but Ginny shook her head at her. Adela, still lost in the thestral's dark and shiny skin, didn't notice how her three new friends looked at each other with expressions of quiet pity, but they didn't say anything.
They arrived at the castle shortly after, and as she stepped through the towering wooden doors of Hogwarts, her mouth fell open.
The entrance hall stretched vast and magnificent before her, its high ceilings lost in shadow, lined with towering stone columns that seemed to hum with centuries of history. Golden torchlight flickered across the stone floors, casting long, dancing shadows. A great marble staircase wound its way up into unseen heights, its banisters carved with ancient symbols, worn smooth by generations of students.
Beyond the entrance hall, the Great Hall yawned open, an overwhelming spectacle of magic and wonder. Hundreds of floating candles hovered above the long tables, their gentle flames illuminating the faces of students dressed in dark robes, all abuzz with excitement. The enchanted ceiling reflected the stormy sky outside, thick clouds rolling across an expanse of velvety blackness, tinged with hints of distant starlight. She recognized this as the enchanted ceiling, which she had read about in Hogwarts: A History. The four house tables stretched endlessly, their golden empty plates gleaming under the candlelight, as ghosts drifted lazily overhead, translucent and shimmering like mist caught in the wind. A scent of warm bread and roasted meat lingered faintly in the air, though there was no food to be seen yet. Adela knew that, any moment now, the tables would be brimming with mountains of hundreds of different delicious dishes—hot, cold, sweet and savoury—waiting to be attacked by the students. She admitted to herself that she was almost as excited for that as she was for starting her classes, as she could hardly remember the last time she had had a satisfying meal.
Her breath hitched at the sheer beauty of it all. This was real. This was Hogwarts.
Before she could follow her friends to the tables, a shaky and unpleasant voice cut through the illusion. She turned around to see a small man, dressed in extremely shabby clothing, two hairs short from bald, who looked dirty and extremely unkind, by the scowl he wore on his face. He didn't smell incredible either, Adela thought. "Are you Benson?" his jowls trembled as he spoke, uninterested and mean.
"Yes..." she answered hesitantly, she didn't exactly how to react to this man's presence.
"Come with me", and he turned away at once, not checking to see if she was following.
Adela looked at her new friends with an expression that screamed "help!", but she relaxed when they looked back at the man, and quickly told her he was Filch, the caretaker, and not a complete stranger, even if he was a dick. She waved to them and skipped a few steps towards him, who had left her behind. As she was led through winding corridors, she thought of how she had always hated following people around; she never knew how much distance she should leave in between. Walking side by side was definitely too much, but being too far could give off disinterest or laziness. She had almost settled the perfect distance between them when he abruptly stopped at a door, and she had to quickly step aside so as not to bump into him.
"Go in, they're waiting for you", he said bitterly, and without another glance or word, he turned around and left.
She stood in front of the dark wooden door for a few seconds, then knocked twice quietly and pushed it open. She didn't even know what she was expecting.
She entered the small, candlelit room, crowded with small desks, which had been put aside for a small stool to stand in the middle, surrounded by four waiting figures.
Professor McGonagall stood at the front, her sharp eyes watching Adela over the rims of her square glasses. She was tall and imposing, her emerald robes crisp, her expression unreadable, but something in the firmness of her gaze reminded Adela of a deep, unshakable fairness.
To her right, a tiny, excitable-looking man with a wild mustache and thin glasses, Professor Flitwick, she presumed, observed her with curiosity. He seemed almost childlike in stature, but the keen intelligence in his eyes suggested otherwise.
Beside him, a heavyset woman with wild, graying hair and a cheerful demeanour, Professor Sprout, offered a bright smile. There was a warmth in her presence, and her soil-stained yellow work robes made Adela think of the greenhouses.
And finally, standing at the center, just behind them, was the unmistakable figure of Albus Dumbledore. His silver beard flowed over the front of his deep, midnight blue robes, and half-moon spectacles rested on the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes twinkling with something like intrigue. He exuded a quiet power, his mere presence filling the room with an almost tangible weight.
Adela swallowed hard, standing rigidly under their scrutiny, feeling small beneath their collective presence. But before anyone could speak, the door behind her creaked open once more.
She turned instinctively at the sound of slow, deliberate footsteps echoing off the stone.
A tall, imposing figure swept into the room, his black robes billowing as if they carried the shadows with them. The air itself seemed to still at his arrival. His sharp features were cast in stark contrast against the dim candlelight; high cheekbones, a hooked nose, and piercing black eyes that gleamed with cold intensity.
Her breath caught in her throat as she remembered the man in the apothecary.
The man's gaze flicked toward her, assessing, calculating. Something about the way his dark eyes settled on her made her stomach twist. He moved with an effortless sort of control, his every step measured, as if he were a predator entering its domain.
Adela felt rooted to the spot, unable to look away. There was something deeply captivating about him, something in the way he carried himself, in the weight of his stare.
Then, with the slightest arch of a brow, Severus Snape turned away, his attention shifting to Dumbledore as if she were of no consequence at all.
But Adela remained frozen, her pulse hammering in her ears.
The voice of the headmaster broke her out of her trance, which she had expertly hidden. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Benson. I apologize for the rudimentary nature of this meeting, but I am afraid we don't have much time, the first years need the Sorting Hat when they arrive from the boats. Professor McGonagall, if you will", he stepped aside, and the severe woman spoke.
"Come sit, Miss Benson." and Adela moved forward. "I will place the Sorting hat on your head, and it will decide what house you belong to. While you're in Hogwarts, your house will be like your family. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house's dormitory and spend your free time in its common room. When the Sorting hat has decided, you will follow your Head of House back to the Great Hall, where you will be seated along your fellow house members."
Adela sat down on the small stool, and McGonagall placed the hat upon her head, its brim curling slightly as it seemed to settle into her thoughts. A peculiar silence stretched over her, a strange feeling washing over her mind as if the hat was rummaging through her memories, exploring her innermost thoughts. She wondered if it was straight up reading her mind, and felt heat creep up to her cheeks. There are one too many things she would like to keep hidden from her professors, her mind wandering towards her late night trips and adventures through the streets of London and Madrid.
The voice that echoed in her mind was low, hesitant, as though unsure of itself.
"Hmm... Interesting. Very interesting... Clever, yes, sharp, perceptive... The mind is quick, ready to learn. "But something else... Something is clouding your thoughts. An interference... It's not natural, not like the usual patterns of the mind I see... You've been held back... prevented from reaching your full potential. Why? What's hiding in your past?"
The Hat paused, as if weighing the answer, sensing a strange resistance, a hidden weight within her that it couldn't quite place. Adela felt a strange pressure in her chest. She tried to ignore it, but the presence, the subtle, persistent pull at the edges of her consciousness, lingered.
"Ravenclaw... Yes, clever, logical... your thirst for knowledge, the need to understand... It would be a good fit, but..."There was a pause, as though the Hat hesitated, its attention shifting. "Slytherin? No, I sense something there... Something that doesn't really fit. No, it's not the usual ambition, even though there's plenty of that. There's something else, something twisted ... It's almost as if..."The Hat trailed off again, almost lost in its own thoughts. "it didn't belong in your mind."
Dumbledore, watching from the staff table, leaned forward, fingers interlocked in front of him, his eyes twinkling with unusual interest, as though he was piecing together a puzzle in his mind.
The Hat hummed once more, its voice growing more insistent. "There is a depth to you... more than even you know. You will find your way, eventually, but you must push through whatever holds you back."
The Hat paused, and Adela's heart skipped a beat as the tension between Ravenclaw and Slytherin seemed to stretch to its breaking point. Then, with a final decision, it declared in a whisper that only she could hear:
"Ravenclaw."