Sorting Feast
The first-year students shuffled into the Great Hall, their eyes wide with wonder as the enchanted ceiling reflected the stormy night sky. Candles floated in midair, casting a warm, flickering glow over the long house tables and the staff seated at the head table. The sorting ceremony was about to begin.
Sage Potter stuck close to Daniel Granger, her heart racing. This was her first time in any school, let alone one as grand as Hogwarts. Could she even do this? What if the hat said she didn’t belong? Was she too stupid? A torrent of self-doubt surged through her mind, making her grip on Daniel’s hand tremble.
Daniel sensed her tension, glancing at her pale face. He didn’t know why this small, fragile girl stirred such a protective feeling in him. She was a contradiction—famous yet terrified, powerful yet vulnerable. His fingers squeezed hers gently. “You’ll be fine,” he whispered, hoping she would believe it.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, her stern expression softening only slightly as she unrolled the parchment. She called names at random, and one by one, children walked nervously to the stool, where the Sorting Hat determined their fate. Neville Longbottom, the chubby boy they shared the boat ride with, was sorted into Hufflepuff. His relieved smile drew a few chuckles.
“Malfoy, Draco!”
A hush fell as the pale, anxious boy sat under the hat. After a brief pause, the hat shouted, “Gryffindor!” Draco’s face was a mixture of surprise and relief as he joined the cheering table.
Sage felt herself growing more rigid, the anticipation gnawing at her. The Great Hall seemed to stretch on forever, filled with hundreds of eyes that might judge her unworthy.
“Potter, Sage!”
The world seemed to freeze. Sage stiffened beside Daniel, who looked at her with wide eyes. “Potter? She’s the Potter?” he thought, shock jolting through him. She didn’t look like the hero of whispered tales; she looked like someone who desperately needed a hero herself. He gave her hand a reassuring squeeze and nudged her forward.
Sage’s legs felt like lead as she walked to the stool. Just before the hat fell over her eyes, she glanced back at Daniel, who gave her a confident nod. The brim of the hat slipped down, shrouding her vision.
“Hmm,” the Sorting Hat’s voice whispered in her ear, startling her. “Oh, what do we have here? Such conflict. So much doubt, yet so much… potential. And… what is this?” The hat seemed to shudder. “A shadow, a fragment of darkness… but not your doing.” It paused, as if weighing a monumental decision. “Better be… SLYTHERIN!”
The hall fell silent. The shock was palpable as Sage slid off the stool, her heart hammering. Stares followed her as she made her way to the Slytherin table, shrinking under their curious and hostile gazes. She sat at the far end, hugging herself as if to make herself disappear.
Daniel clenched his fists. “Slytherin?” he thought. Determined, he vowed to find a way to join her, even if it meant arguing with the hat. But when his name was called and he sat under the hat’s brim, it told him, “No. You’re better suited for Ravenclaw.” Despite his protests, the hat shouted, “Ravenclaw!”
He joined his new house, eyes fixed on Sage as disappointment weighed on him. He saw Ron Weasley, a boy who had given them dark looks all evening, step up next. The hat took longer with him but eventually declared, “Slytherin!” A smirk spread across Ron’s face as he walked confidently to the table, choosing a seat near Sage.
Ron leaned over, his voice low. “I’m Ron. Guess we’re housemates now.” Sage barely reacted, staring at her empty plate. Ron’s eyes narrowed. “Too good to talk to me, Potter?” he thought darkly. “We’ll see about that.”
Sage glanced across the room, her gaze finding Daniel’s. He offered a sad, encouraging smile, the distance between them now feeling insurmountable. A pang of loneliness swept through her. She had never felt so alone, yet she clung to the warmth of his small smile.
The feast began, and the tables filled with a cornucopia of dishes. Sage picked at her food, her appetite dulled by nerves and exhaustion. She hadn’t eaten properly in days, and even now, each bite felt forced.
After the feast, the prefects led the students to their common rooms. Sage mimicked the other girls, watching how they set up their dormitory space. She undressed, changed into her nightclothes, and slipped into bed, pulling the covers tight around her as if they could shield her from the day’s shocks.
Morning came early for Sage, her body trained by years of chores at the Dursleys’ to rise before dawn. She sat in the dim dorm, feeling more lost than ever. The other girls stirred at half-past six, chattering and moving about as if this were any other day. Sage copied their routine, dressing and packing her bag silently.
At breakfast, the Great Hall buzzed with excitement, but Sage felt eyes on her wherever she moved. Only Ron approached her, and every word from him made her skin prickle with unease. She kept glancing at the Ravenclaw table, where Daniel sat surrounded by new friends but always with one eye on her, offering a small, unwavering smile whenever their eyes met.
For now, that was enough.