Sorting Hat
The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face that reminded Zhongli of Cloud Retainer.
“The firs’ years, Professor McGonagall.” said Hagrid.
“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here.”
She pulled the door wide open. The Entrance Hall was so big you could fit the whole of the Wangsheng Funeral Parlour in there with no problem. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble stair- case facing them led to the upper floors.
It was one of the most majestic castles he had ever seen.
They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Zhongli could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right – the rest of the school must already be here – but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start- of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.
“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.
“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”
Her eyes lingered for a moment on Neville’s cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and Childe’s unbuttoned robe which Zhongli swiftly buttoned.
“I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”
She then left the chambour.
Despite her request of being quiet, the room exploded into whispering.
“We’re going to be separated.” He whispered to Childe.
There was no way they'd be in the same house. They were literally the opposites of each other.
Childe bit his lips grimly, “I know, but we’ll still see each other often, right?”
“I hope so.”
Beside him Hermione trembled with anticipation, “Oh I can’t wait to see what house I’ll be in.”
Neville shivered, “Does anyone know how they’re going to sort us?” He asked softly.
Zhongli exchanged a glance with Childe.
Hermione answered, “The Sorting Hat.”
Suddenly, Out of no where, several people behind him screamed.
Beside him, Neville let out a whimper.
“What in Celestia are those?” Childe said, looking just as dumbfounded as Zhongli felt.
About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to each other and hardly glancing at the first-years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like one of them was saying, “Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –”
“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he’s not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?”
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first-years.
Nobody answered.
“New students!” said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them, “About to be sorted, I suppose?”
A few people nodded mutely.
“Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!” said Friar. “My old house, you know.”
“Move along now,” said a sharp voice. “The Sorting Ceremony’s about to start.”
Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.
“That was weird.” Childe muttered beside him.
“Now, form a line,” Professor McGonagall told the first-years, "And follow me.”
He could tell that Childe didn’t like being told what to do as he was grumbling under his breath. The ginger only listened to Tsarista. The Cyro Archon was lucky to have such a devoted follower.
The first years followed the authoritative witch towards back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.
Okay, maybe Hogwarts was the most beautiful castle he had ever seen. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles which were floating in mid-air over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the Hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, Zhongli looked upwards and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.”
“Still think the Lantern Rite is better?” Childe asked, smirking.
Zhongli huffed and crossed his arms, "Nothing beats Liyue's Lantern Rite."
Childe laughed under his breath, “This place is nearly as big as Tsarista’s palace. Though, her palace is much more elegant.”
As much as he wanted to disagree with Childe, he couldn’t. He had gone there himself years ago for a visit, before the Archon war started. The palace wasn’t quite done yet, but he had a feeling that it would be majestic and grande. The original Cyro Archon had always fancied beautiful things.
Zhongli glanced towards McGonagall. She was placing a four legged stool in front of them, on top of it, she put a pointy hat, which was dirty and dusty.
That must be the Sorting Hat that Hermione was talking about.
Everyone’s eyes were on the hat, staring at it in anticipation as if a rabbit would jump out of it.
Suddenly it twitched, was a rabbit actually going to jump out of it? He wondered.
No, instead a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth – and the hat began to sing:
“Oh, you may not think I’m pretty, But don’t judge on what you see, I’ll eat myself if you can find,
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black, Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat And I can cap them all.
There’s nothing hidden in your head The Sorting Hat can’t see,
So try me on and I will tell you Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you’ve a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You’ll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don’t be afraid!
And don’t get in a flap!
You’re in safe hands (though I have none) For I’m a Thinking Cap!”
The whole Hall then exploded into applause as the hat finished the song. The hat straightened up, and bowed three times.
“A talking hat.” Childe mused beside him, “Have you ever seen anything like that before?”
Zhongli shook his head, bewildered, “No…”
He had lived for six thousand years, experienced and seen many weird things, yet this was the strangest of all.
Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.
“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. ‘Abbott, Hannah!”
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. A moment’s pause –
“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.
The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Zhongli saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.
“Bones, Susan!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
“Boot, Terry!”
“RAVENCLAW!”
Just like that, one by one they went and sat on the stool with that hat on top of their head.
Some were Slytherins, like Draco, others went to Gryffindor like Hermione, whose face broke into a grin so big that Zhongli had to smile too.
Sometimes, Zhongli noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but at others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus", the sandy-haired boy next to Zhongli in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.
When Neville was called, surprisingly the hat shouted Gryffindor as well, The poor boy ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to “MacDougal, Morag” who went to Ravenclaw.
Childe facepalmed, “How did he get in Gryffindor, he does not look brave at all.”
Zhongli whispered back, “The hat must have its reason.”
And then his name was called, loud and clear,
“Rex Lapis, Zhongli.”
His heart gave a little jump.
Childe gave him an encouraging nudge, and Zhongli walked forward towards the stool.
The hall exploded into whispers.
“Did she just say Zhongli?”
“Hold on, wasn’t it Morax? And where did the Potter go?”
“Father told me that Dumbledore changed his name.”
He blocked out the whispering, and focused on not looking too nervous. Which was easy. Guizhong used to always complain that his face was as expressioness as a rock.
Sitting on the stool, he caught Childe’s encouraging eyes before the hat suddenly covered his vision. He could, however, feel all the gaze on him.
“Hm, this is a hard one- Hold on- What?” Said a small voice beside his ears. The Sorting Hat.
“Is something wrong?” He muttered softly, making sure that nobody could hear.
“Something wrong? Oh yes definitely! Bloody hell, you are older than me!” The hat cried incredulously, “Teyvat? What is that? Geo Archon- God of Contracts? Who- What are you?”
Zhongli bit his lips grimly, this was going to be a problem.
Keep this a secret, would you? He thought, knowing now that the hat could read his thoughts.
Silence.
Please? He tried.
“You killed people- Gods.” The hat accused, “I must tell Dumbledore about this.”
There was a war- Hat, listen, you must not tell anyone, just sort me. I promise I won’t harm anyone here.
Silence.
Let’s make a contract then-
“I’m not making any contracts with the God of Contracts,” The hat grumbled, “Look, I’ll sort you, I have to anyway, but I need to tell Dumbledore about this. He’ll decide what to do with you.”
This was a very stubborn hat.
He hesitated for a moment before sighing in defeat. ..Fine.
“Alright then, let’s see. You are knowledgeable, but that’s expected as someone so old. Brave yet careful. Ambitious as well. And surprisingly…Gentle? This is very difficult, hmm.”
“I could put you in Ravenclaw, you would strive there, or even Gryffindor…This is a difficult choice, yes very… The hat trailed off.
“Oh? You’re a half qilin?” The hat suddenly asked.
Oh, yeah, half dragon too. He replied in his mind.
“Qilins are known as gentle creatures, and dragons are known for being powerful. Hmm. Interesting, I see now.”
“You may have murdered many, but you have saved more. You could have murdered that green haired boy, but out of pity and kindness, you didn’t, saving him instead.”
Was he talking about Xiao?
“Perhaps Ravenclaw would have suited you well, but the right house for you is-”
“HUFFLEPUFF!” The Hat shouted out loud.
Childe watched as Zhongli went and sat down on the stool, looking as calm as ever despite having everyone's eyes on him.
As Professor McGonagall placed the hat over his head, it slid down, covering half his face.
Childe almost laughed.
He sighed, he was definitely going to miss how adorable eleven years old Zhongli looked once they got back to Teyvat. His eyes were bigger and his hair was curlier, not to mention they were the same height now.
Three minutes pass by, and Zhongli hasn't moved an inch. Did The Sorting Hat and him fall asleep?
Another minute pass by, then finally.
“HUFFLEPUFF!” The hat shouted
The kind and loyal house? Hm, he supposed Zhongli was pretty kind. Not very kind to his wallet though.
There was a brief shocked silence before Hufflepuff’s side of the table burst into loud cheers as Zhongli walked towards them, composed as always with a light smile.
“We got Rex Lapis!”
“Morax? In our house? Hell yeah!”
“YEAHHH”
He smiled, this might be the biggest cheer yet.
The other houses were applauding as well, but Childe noticed that Dumbledore, the headmaster, looked displeased. It must have been his imagination though, as the next moment, Dumbledore had a smile on and was clapping too.
That’s weird.
The only house that wasn’t applauding was the Slytherins. Cursed them. He hoped he wasn’t in that house, pesky Draco was there.
Another girl went, became Ravenclaw and then it was his turn.
“Weasley, Ajax Tartaglia.”
He lifted his head up, and walked confidently towards the stool. He wasn’t nervous. Nope, totally not at all.
When the professor placed the hat over his head, his hair prevented the hat from dipping lower.
“Oh no, not another one.” The hat groaned.
Childe scoffed under his breath, “Are you always that rude to students?”
“To the ones who came from Teyvat, yeah.”
He froze, “How-”
“How do I know? I see you’re not as smart as the other one.” It must be talking about Zhongli, did he tell the hat? His eyes flickered to Zhongli.
“I read his thoughts, just like how I'm reading yours right now.” answered the Sorting hat matter-of-factly.
Okay, reading his thoughts? That’s a big problem.
“Oh good, you’re not a god like the other one. Fatui Harbinger? What’s that-”
Listen you pesky hat, you dare tell anyone, and I will rip you in half.
Silence, so Childe continued.
I might not be a god, but I defeated many monsters and creatures. A dirty little hat like you won’t stand a chance against me. I’ll pick you up and throw-
“Alright, alright calm down…definitely not Hufflepuff.” The hat muttered.
So are you gonna snitch?
“It is my job to-”
Childe imagined himself ripping the dirty hat in two, crumbling it, stomping on it, setting it on fire, then throwing it into the lake outside, watching it sink to the bottom.
“Stop! Alright, fine.”
Fine what?
“I won’t tell anyone.” The hat grumbled strained.
Good, now sort me.
Without even hesitating, the hat cried, “SLYTHERIN!”
Wait fuck, not Slytherin-
It was too late, McGonagall was already moving the hat away from his head.
Maybe he shouldn’t have threatened the hat.
The hall was deadly silent, except for the whispers. He stood up from his stool, head held high and made his way to the Slytherin’s table.
“A Weasley in Slytherin?”
“He’s probably evil.”
“Weasley? In Slytherin? That’s new.”
He ignored everything around him, until he heard a clap. He froze, the whispers stopped as well. The claps rang loud and clear throughout the entire hall.
Surprised, Childe turned around to see Zhongli clapping.
Of course it's him. He smiled.
Then Fred and George joined in, yelling, “He broke the curse! He broke the curse!”
Slowly, seeing as The Boy Who Lived was clapping, the entire Hufflepuff table followed suit. Then the Ravenclaws joined, followed by some Gryffindors as well, but the others just stared at Childe.
Especially Percy. Oh he was mad. His entire face was flushed red and was staring at Childe in shock and anger. It wasn’t even his fault anyways.
But hey! At least Fred and George were cheering for him.
Childe flashed them an appreciative look, and smiled in gratitude towards Zhongli, who smiled back warmly.
It wasn’t close to the usual cheers the rest of the first graders got, but at least he still got some cheers.
None of the Slytherins were clapping, they were all glaring at him coldly, but who cares. It totally did not hurt that his own house did not welcome him. He still had Zhongli, and some of his brothers, he assured himself.
He sat down at the end of the table, ignoring the hostile glares sent his way.
“A blood traitor in Slytherin…”
“Who does he think he is?”
“Ew, a Weasley.”
“Look at his robes, so old…”
When Blaise Zabini joined their table, the whole of Slytherin clapped and cheered loudly as if to mock Childe.
This was going to be a long year, He thought.
Dumbledore was saying something, but he didn’t bother to listen. He just fiddled with his silverwares.
No chopsticks for Zhongli? He’ll be disappointed.
Finally the food came. Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and, for some strange reason, mint humbugs. They all looked tasty, but Childe couldn’t stomach anything other than some boiled potatoes.
After a while the food disappeared, and Dumbledore stood up and stated some rules.
“First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.”
Dumbledore’s twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of Fred and George.
“I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”
He frowned, Was he serious? He could hear some laughter, but surely the Headmaster wouldn’t joke about something like that.
And if he was serious, Childe was definitely checking out that corridor.
“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore. Childe noticed that the other teachers’ smiles had become rather fixed.
Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick as if he was trying to get a fly off the end and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself snake-like into words.
“Everyone pick your favorite tune,” said Dumbledore joyfully, “And off we go!”
And the school bellowed:
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling With some interesting stuff,
For now they’re bare and full of air, Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing, Bring back what we’ve forgot,
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest, And learn until our brains all rot."
Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.
What the fuck.
“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”
Childe began to follow the rest of the Slytherins off towards their dormitory when he caught Zhongli’s concerned gaze.
The brunette mouthed, Are you okay?
Despite feeling horrible, he gave him a thumbs up and smiled.
Zhongli looked as if he wanted to say something else, but a blonde kid beside pulled him away.
He watched as Zhongli disappeared from view, and with a sigh he followed his own housemates. They went down into a staircase, into the Dungeon?
One of the Prefect stared at a bare piece of wall, before saying monotonously, “ Basilisk.”
For a second Childe thought he was crazy, talking to a wall, when suddenly the wall rose up, revealing a grande room covered in green silk.
Woah.
“Password is Basilisk, don’t forget, now off to your dormitories.” The other Prefect demanded.
It took Childe five minutes to locate his dormitory and another five moment to comprehend that he’s in the same room as Draco fucking Malfoy.
Well that’s just too bad.
He entered, Malfoy thankfully was not there, probably taking a shower.
However, Goyle, Crabbe, Blaise were.
They didn’t notice him though. They were all passed out on their separate beds.
Childe, too decided that he was too tired for a shower, and went to bed dirty.
He’ll shower in the morning.
He must have been more tired than he thought he was, because Childe didn’t even have the energy to dream.