The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - The Sorting Hat - August 27, 2022
September 1, 1892 - The Great Hall
The first years enter to a room already filled with students at their tables; they stand in the aisle before the sorting hat is brought out and begins to sing the sorting song. When your name is called, you walk up and the hat is placed over your head.
The judgement begins.
**
"What class are you most excited about?"
"How would you deal with failing a test?"
"Who is your hero?"
"What would your friends say about you?"
"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"
Reply to this post with one post only. Include your character's answers to all four questions that the Sorting Hat asks. First years can reply one after the other. They do not need to wait until the sorting hat responds to each individual. This allows for a quicker sorting for the first years. When the sorting hat does respond, it will reply to all previous first years with one post. The more detailed the answers the more accurate the sorting will be. Include the character's thought process and the logic used in their decision making. If your answer does not give enough information to make a judgement call or is very closely tied, a second round may be necessary.
My goal is to reply to this thread to sort first-years at least once every 24 hours!
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Mirren Greyback - August 28, 2022
The moment had finally come. The sorting hat. Mimi had spent the prior weeks with a jumble of excited butterflies swimming around in her stomach, and upon hearing her name called it seemed it was finally time to see if she really would be able to follow in her fathers footsteps as badly as she wanted to.
Sitting down on the chair, the feeling of the hat grazing over her red hair as it was plopped onto her head had Mimi straightening out her posture as she was ready to finally face this moment head on, and as each question poured out of the hat Mimi only pondered each with a second of deliberation before swiftly jumping into each of her answers.
“What class are you most excited about?”
I’m most excited for the flying lessons! I really love quidditch, you see. I find it quite thrilling to be up in the air, and I’m really looking forward to becoming skilled at it so I can try out for the teams next year! If I had to pick a standard class though, probably Defense Against the Dark Arts. It seems just as thrilling! Although probably not as exciting as being up in the air? I mean honestly, how could one ever beat that?!
“How would you deal with failing a test?”
What is there to deal with? I would try as best as I can, but honestly books can get rather boring quickly, don't you think? I wouldn’t be too upset knowing that the alternative would mean I would have to have spent hours turning pages! The exciting part of magic is where the action is! You cast spells with wands; not quills! So why worry about some silly test?
“Who is your hero?”
My Papa is my hero through and through! He’s easily the most amazing person I know. He’s so strong and amazing, and he always knows just what to say to make me laugh! Plus I never have to worry about anything when he’s around because he always makes me feel so safe. I really hope I can be just like him when I’m older!
“What would your friends say about you?”
Probably that I’m loud if I had to guess. I’m not scared to speak up and share my thoughts on anything! Honestly, I don’t understand why some people are so scared to say what's on their mind. How else is anyone going to know what you’re trying to explain or what you’re thinking? It seems foolish to stay quiet. You must understand since your whole job is asking questions!
“If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”
I wish I were taller! It’s not fair to feel so easily underestimated because I’m one of the smallest, and I definitely feel like people do that when they see me. But I 'm easily just as strong as them, if not stronger! I think if I could be as tall as my Pa that would help people see that and would just be so amazing. Plus, I want to be just as strong as Papa when I grow up, and I think being bigger would help make that so much easier!
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Charity Lloyd - August 28, 2022
She'd made it. She'd actually made it. In hindsight it seemed silly to think that she wouldn't, with all the money Uncle Evander had spent on her over the past few weeks. Charity had told herself that it wasn't because he was eager to support her education. Instead, she'd convinced herself that this was all some big ruse to butter her up for the new baby.
(She was not buttered up, for the record. If she'd been a biscuit she'd probably be burnt and bitter, the complete opposite of buttery. And then, of course, Miss Delaney had had the audacity to deliver the baby on three days earlier, which really ruined the entire off-to-school experience. Her only comfort was that she wouldn't have to listen to the baby cry until Christmastime. Anyways.)
Wand in hand and clad in robes that she was still convinced were hemmed an inch too long, Charity shuffled into the Great Hall with the group of incoming first years. She didn't recognize many faces, although she thought she remembered seeing a few of them shopping in Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley. Curious as she was, she found herself towards the front of the group as they stood before the Sorting Hat, an apparently magical object (although it seemed more like a creature, she thought. One tattered, ancient, loud—and probably very smelly—magical creature.)
When her name was called, she glanced up towards the front of the hall, where Miss Clearwater sat alongside the other house matrons, and gave a small wave as she approached the stool. She sat down, and the interrogation began.
"What class are you most excited about?"
Charity blinked. "That's a silly question, I think. Should we not be excited for all of them?" Was she supposed to know what every class would entail already? She had flipped through her textbooks, but they made about as much sense at Uncle Evander and Miss Delaney's nuptials (that being: absolutely none). And wouldn't it be awful for a first year to declare, before they're even able to wave their wand the right way, that they're not excited for any specific class? Oh Merlin, what if she'd missed some instruction?
---
"How would you deal with failing a test?"
Charity pondered the question. She immediately wanted to answer with something along the lines of I think I'd review and got wrong and hope I do better next time, but the longer she thought about it, she decided it wasn't very honest of her. "I'd probably ask the professor to double-check their own key. I usually do well enough that my marks at least decent. If it turns out I did fail, I'd probably stomp off." She wasn't proud of it, but it was one of the many truths about her: she didn't like being told she was wrong.
---
"Who is your hero?"
Before the Sorting Hat could even finish the question, Charity was nodding herself, the answer obvious to her. "The person who invented parchment. It's very versatile and I'm not sure what I'd do without it. I was just thinking about it the other day—what if we didn't have parchment and we had to write on clay still? Or bricks? Or—well, I think you get the point." Of course, she had a whole list of people she admired in life—Uncle Alfred, Zelda, Uncle Evander when he wasn't with Miss Delaney, Miss Clearwater—but there was something very heroic about inventing something convenient.
---
"What would your friends say about you?"
Friends? She had friends. Acquaintances. People she knew. In passing.
"I think they'd say they like me, else they wouldn't be my friend, would they?"
---
"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"
And that was it: the question that sent her off the edge.
"I think it's very inconvenient to be an orphan. For one, people don't like orphans very much. They're pitied and looked down on, and some people think they're unlucky, and for what reason? I suppose I am unlucky, but not in the way that I bring back luck to people. If I was unlucky, Miss Delaney's baby would have been born with two heads, but she wasn't." Maybe it would have been good luck to her but she thought the Hat might judge her for saying that, even if It didn't understand. "It doesn't help that I have red hair, because everyone thinks it's unlucky, too." She opened her mouth to start her tangent about how she'd change how awkward she could be while talking to strangers sometimes, but then a thought dawned on her.
"You know what, Sorting Hat? I think what I'd really like to change is other people. I don't like many of them. Not really. I try to be nice, and most of the time they're nice back, but I can tell when people think I'm odd or silly and treat me like I'm fragile. I'd like to change that."
And maybe she would, one day.
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Lincoln Dashwood - August 28, 2022
Lincoln was excited to be in the halls of Hogwarts. His siblings had come before him and now it was his turn. He waited as names were called, students sorted and then it was finally his turn. He did feel a little self conscious that he was about the same height as some of the shortest of the girls but he supposed he couldn't help that. He had been born small and sickly and his height just never really caught up. Maybe he would get lucky and have a growth spurt. He tried standing as tall as he could, his first official night at Hogwarts having caused him to develop a complex about his tiny height.
"What class are you most excited about?"
I am most excited about Transfiguration class! My cousin Basil Foxwood is the Transfiguration professor and he is super nice, I think. It is also really cool how we can change the way things look with magic. Some people can even turn into animals and that is super cool. I want to be able to do that one day.
"How would you deal with failing a test?"
I would feel sad about it for a little while before looking at which areas I got wrong. Then I would study up on those areas to make sure I strengthen my knowledge so that I don't fail if a similar test happens. One of the best way to deal with failure is to try and make sure you fix where you failed as much as possible, I personally think. Whether that is practicing a spell until you have it perfect or studying from a book until you know what's what.
"Who is your hero?"
My sister Poppy. She is awesome and everyone should want to be her friend. She is confident, beautiful and not afraid to be herself. She is also very brave and takes good care of me.
"What would your friends say about you?"
They would probably say that I am always lost in my world of make believe. I am always telling different stories, both ones I made up myself and ones that I got from a book. It is so fun though. The real world can sometimes be such a bore, especially when you aren't allowed to leave your bedroom. Can anyone really blame me for having made up my own worlds and wanting to share it with them? If they don't want to be a pirate wielding a sword with me in the back garden, then I don't know what I can say to them.
"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"
I would change how easily I get sick so that my mother doesn't have to worry so much. Maybe then I can run around and play like most boys my age do. If I wasn't so sickly maybe I would be taller than I am.
When Professor Darrow had shown up in the living room of the town house this summer Kitty had never imagined how her life would change. She'd had nearly two months to consider, to realize that it wasn't that she was just unlucky - but rather that she was magical. And not like the fae folk either. Although now that she knew witches and wizars existed she held firm that the fae folk did too.
Kitty's eyes had been wide the whole journey to school. She'd never been on a train before to start with. But then there had been the whole crossing of the lake (thankfully she'd managed to stay in the boat) to a castle. Kitty had seen castles before, of course, but she just hadn't expected to attend school in one. It looked nearly as grand as the Queen's palace that her governess had pointed out on their walks this summer. Exccept of course, it wasn't just the grandness to it. It was the fact that it was magical or at least she assumed it was after all it was a school for magic.
She'd had no problem chatting with her fellow first years as they waited, easily sharing her smiles and excitement with everyone. But now as they filtered into the hall filled with older students Kitty was suddenly nervous. It was like having a room full of her sisters and their friends watching her and waiting for her to fall.
But when they reached the end of the hall Kitty found herself looking at a stool with a hat on it. A hat? It was old and ragged and looked rather like something that even the staff wouldn't even wear. To make matters weirder it started to sing. Kitty watched it in confused curiosity. One thing was certain, whatever the hat looked like, it was magical.
Her name was called and Kitty walked with as much lady like decorum as she could muster toward the school. The hat was placed on her head. And then a voice spoke in her mind and she almost jumped in her seat. What was that? She certainly hadn't thought it. There was no harm in answering it though, was there?
What class are you most excited about?
But what classes was she to have? It wasn't like her brother's courses at school, she was sure of that. All of them! Because if it was a magical school, then she figured all the courses had magic of some sort involved and that was just about the most fascinating thing she could think of. Anything with magic. She found herself adding with an enthusasic smile on her face, hidden by the brim of the hat.
How would you deal with failing a test?
Well, I suppose it would be just like all the weird things that happen to me. Kitty reflected, her brow creasing in thought. Like the time I got stuck in a tree - it turns out that was because of my magic - but I didn't know then. Or the time my sisters tripped me when Professor Darrow visited. You stand back up, or climb down from the tree, brush your skirts off, and try again. Her chin jutted forward slightly with her conviction.
Who is your hero?
The Queen. The answer was automatic in Kitty's mind even though she'd never actually considered it before. It was simply something that had been drilled into her since birth. And the Queen, when one stopped and considered it, was rather remarkable. The first queen of their country since Queen Elizabeth.
What would your friends say about you?
Kitty considered that for a moment, thinking of her sisters who had plenty of criticisms for her. But the voice had wanted to know about friends. So instead she considered what Minty might say. That I'm curious, and cheerful, and outgoing. But if you ask my sisters they'd simply say I'm a pain. But really, I think they are rather wrong. I have a much better sense of humor than them and it doesn't particularly matter if I am lady like all the time since it will be years before I am expected to be. I'd much rather have fun then sit there and gossip with them. Realizing she'd said too much, certainly something her mother would have scolded her for, Kitty forced herself to stop, folding her hands carefully in her lap as she did so, imitating the way mother sat.
If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?
Oh! I'd want to be less accident prone. Everyone always treats me as if I'm odd and something they need to keep a secret about and I hate that. If I didn't find myself in messes, though, perhaps they might not think I'm as much of a nusiance. But then again, most of my accidents were magic. I wonder if now they will be gone? It would be nice to be treated as if I weren't the odd one out. It really was something that bothered Kitty. A part of her that had never gone looking for trouble but always seemed to find it regardless. And her family had always tried to keep it a secret. The unlocked doors, the escapades in the forests, the trips that landed her yards away from where she ought to be. How much of that was magic and how much of that was simply because Kitty had the worst luck of anyone in the family?
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Callum Finnigan - August 28, 2022
To admit out loud that he was nervous would have been silly, but Callum still looked it all hunched over with his brow scrunched and lip looking awfully chewed up. He was standing in line behind Mirren Greyback whom he’d met in Diagon Alley and, despite insulting her cat, they seemed to have hit it off well enough for him to feel a touch more secure with her fiery bravado before him. Callum couldn’t deny it; the pair of them were oddly matched: both with flaming red hair, one a midget the other a veritable giant behind her. He wasn’t usually self-conscious of his height. In fact, more often than not it helped him into and out of trouble when he needed it. But today, with all the eyes of the four house tables turning towards them, he stood out like a sore thumb and it was unnerving at best.
One by one, the first years were called to their houses. Callum watched with rapt attention, each name and each house more intriguing by the second. He’d never actually given thought to what house he wanted for himself before, only that he knew he couldn’t possibly fit into Slytherin and very much did not want to have to try. The other three houses seemed alright enough, each with their benefits and draw-backs. Hufflepuff seemed like the nicest of the lot, a crowd Callum could see himself fading into the background of. Never an individual, but never an outlier either. Ravenclaw seemed ambitious enough to keep him on his toes, but probably full of people that would make him feel bad for avoiding his studies. Gryffindor… well. Gryffindor was for people braver than him, but with the most lion-hearted of all souls. That was where Papa and Grandpapa had been sorted after all. He knew they'd be disappointed if he wasn't sorted into their house and... well... deep down, he thought he might be too...
When his name was called, Callum squared his shoulders and stood taller than he felt, hoping to show some bravery despite the turmoil inside. He didn’t adore the idea of a hat, or anyone really, inside his head. It was all chaos and scribbles up there most of the time, which was why he was so meticulous in writing everything down. What if the hat saw something up there, in him, that Cal himself was hesitant or unsure of? Would he be sorted into a house that only made him realize the worst of himself?
The seat was warm when he squirmed upon it, hands holding the sides anxiously. The voice that spoke to him was inviting, if a little surprising, and Callum felt himself breath out, forcing his concern aside. It was time to focus and be serious now. The hat muttered some things into his ear, searching and rooting and poking around. Callum tried to make it as easy as possible for the hat, locking down any stray thoughts and emotions as best he could. At last, the questions began and his brow pinched again in thought.
"What class are you most excited about?”
Instantly the first thought to cross Callum’s mind was flying, duh. Flying and learning to play proper quidditch was any and everything Callum wanted most. He’d been thinking about nothing else all summer, in fact. He wanted to be the one out there representing his house, doing his best for them and for himself! The thought of playing as beater tickled across his memory from that afternoon with Mirren at Quality Quidditch Supplies. He still fancied the idea of being the one to protect his teammates from the bludgers. He liked protecting those he cared about, like Charlie’s baby sister when she’d fallen from that tree. Yes, definitely flying.
Oh, er— in terms of practical magic too I think Charms could be interesting. It was less intense than potions or defense against the dark arts, both of which seemed rather more involved and complex than Callum was prepared for. His mother was excellent at Transfiguration though, and Pa was just good at everything. Callum swallowed a small lump in his throat and hoped he would find a way to measure up.
"How would you deal with failing a test?”
Gut reaction: anger. Callum felt the sensation swirl like a pit in his stomach and he swallowed it down, trying to think clearly. Anger was the default of a gentleman who had no breeding, Mama used to say. You have to be better than that; we have to be better than that.* Callum had never understood exactly what that meant but it floated to the forefront of his mind now. He supposed after anger he would feel disappointment. Disappointment at having failed anything and then regret, for not trying harder, for not being better. He resolved himself in that moment to ensure it never happened. He would study harder than anyone at the subjects he didn’t like. Maybe that way, he’d never have to find out what it felt like to fail a test.
“Who is your hero?”
Pa. There simply was nobody else. Callum grinned to himself at the thought of his father. His father who did his best for thier family, and the little village near the estate. His father, who had taught him to fly, and be kind to even the lost kittens they’d found in the garden. His father whom, against all odds, had built an empire he wanted to entrust to his one and only son. Callum felt his throat run dry and quickly pushed the thought aside. His Papa was a hero for many reasons and aside from [insert name of Ballycastle Bats Keeper here], there wasn’t a man Callum admired more in the world.
"What would your friends say about you?”
Now here was an interesting one. Callum searched around in his mind for a succinct word to describe himself from any one of his friend's perspectives and failed spectacularly. They were all so unique in their own personalities, there was no real consensus. He tried to think of them each individually then and heard their voices come to light each time.
Imogen, Charlie’s older sister, often called him “Brave. Protective. Hot-headed. Stupid.” He could practically see her rolling her eyes, that fond smile on her face as she ruffled his hair and walked away. Charlie would have laughed at ‘stupid’ and challenged it saying “Callum is the smartest person we know! All he does is spend his time scribbling in that book!” Quincy, the youngest of the sisters who often stuck to Callum’s coattails after he’d saved her, liked to think he was quiet, shy, and sweet just like her. None of these descriptions of him seemed completely apt, Callum supposed. He saw himself as neither stupid, shy, or particularly brave… but protective? Well, protective was a word he supposed he could get behind.
"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?”
This question finally broke the composed facade the red-head had been trying to keep up. A swarm of insecurities all vied for first place. Too many freckles… too tall… not English enough… not suited to run an empire… Callum slammed the door shut with a forceful snap and shut his eyes to try and concentrate. What one, big important thing, would he actually change about himself if given the opportunity. All of these other things seemed so silly when you considered the actual scope and possibility of the question. He would grow into his height, mama always said; his freckles were a part of him. Not being English enough only meant that he was proud of his heritage and in reality, Callum wouldn’t trade Ireland for anything. As for running an empire… well, he supposed he had time yet. There wasn’t really any one big thing about himself Callum could think to change. Hazel eyes relaxing in their closed state, the young red-head let out a small breath.
Nothing. I will grow into who I’m meant to become no matter what.
* Because they are ‘new money’ upper class from middle, and Irish.
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - The Sorting Hat - August 28, 2022
Mirren Greyback
The hat contemplates for only twenty seconds before it shouts "GRYFFINDOR!" for the loud little child.
Charity Lloyd "Interesting... very interesting," the hat says. "Anyone with conspiracies like this has to be RAVENCLAW!"
Lincoln Dashwood
The hat contemplates for a few seconds, and then asks: "What is the worst thing a person could call you?"
Callum Finnigan
This one was unsettlingly tall. "GRYFFINDOR!"
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Lincoln Dashwood - August 28, 2022
"What is the worst thing a person could call you?"
Huh. Lincoln honestly did not know how to answer that. He thought for a moment, anything referring to his height was a contender. Except, there was nothing he could really do to change that. So that was on them for teasing him for something out of his control.
"Stupid," he decided. "Especially if they're only judging me for my enjoyment of making up make believe stories." Smarts came in all kinds of different forms. "Though I'd also rather people not call be dwarf either. It is not my fault that I am so short."
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Eli Fox - August 28, 2022
The noise in the hall was deafening. He'd thought the busy London streets on market day were a calamity, but this was another level. At least it afforded him the opportunity to make himself feel small and unnoticeable. It wasn't that Eli disliked other children, per say, it was just he found it difficult to relate to the majority of them. He'd been forced to grow up rather quickly. People weren't kind to boyhood on the streets or in Knockturn Alley. There were times he used his age and diminutive size to his advantage, but it rarely helped him to approach life with a carefree wonder. No, he had to calculate his every move in order to survive.
When his name was called, Eli slipped quietly between the others who awaited their sorting. He was near tempted to pick their pockets, but he was determined to be on his best behavior. He need to at least last the year. It could likely be his only year.
When the hat nearly dwarfed him, the boy flinched slightly at the sudden voice. Jay hadn't mentioned a sentient hat rooting about in his brain. Ah, well, he would make the most of it.
Like his words, Eli chose his thoughts carefully. He safeguarded too many secrets to allow a hat to have full reign of his mind. Not that he knew how, but he attempted to close off his mind by shoving forth only surface level thoughts. Perhaps, if he fed it only what he wished it to know, it would dissuade the ratty, old thing from delving any deeper.
"What class are you most excited about?"
Eli tilted his head, calling up the first class that came to mind, "Defense Against the Dark Arts seems the most useful." At least in his line of work. He would need to know the ins and outs of dark curses and jinxes in order to survive.
"How would you deal with failing a test?"
He blinked. He had never taken a test, but he supposed it was similar to failing at anything else. "I would make sure it don't happen again." He would have to.
"Who is your hero?"
If his face wasn't fully obscured by the hat, onlookers would witness an expression of honest confusion. He quickly tucked that away and carefully answered, "I don't have one." Putting people up on pedestals just gave them a further way to fall.
"What would your friends say about you?"
Friends? He only truly had the Fox family. They'd likely say he was dependable, but he wasn't sure they truly knew him. Jay and Hestia were probably the closest people he had, and he still kept a distance. If a person were able to mentally shrug, Eli did so just then.
"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"
That was a tricky one. While he wished to be taller, his short stature allowed him to slip about unnoticed, so it had its advantages. After much deliberation, the child settled on, "I'd like to be more useful." It was something he regularly wished for. He just wanted to find his niche in his found family, to be truly an integral part. He hoped Hogwarts would aid in that goal.
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Lucy Tatting - August 28, 2022
Lucy felt like she was going to vibrate out of her skin with nerves and excitement. It seemed like ages had passed since her brother had gone to Hogwarts, and now it was finally her and Rowan's turn at last. She was already a little overwhelmed, just standing in the Great Hall. She kept throwing glances at her sister, trying to gauge if she was the right amount of nervously excited, though it occurred to Lucy even as she did that she wasn't sure how to feel if her twin was more nervous of less than she was. At any rate, she was grateful to be called first between the two of them, if only so she wouldn't have to stand alone!
"What class are you most excited about?"
It felt more than a little odd, hearing a voice in her mind, but at least it was asking questions Lucy thought she knew the answers to. "Charms," she said, decisively. There was no doubt of that. Other subjects might be interesting, she supposed, but Charms was the most practical for her future.
"How would you deal with failing a test?"
"Fail?" Lucy's brow furrowed. "I wouldn't fail. I can't fail." She couldn't imagine a scenario where she would have allowed herself to fail, not if it was something important. She supposed she might fail if she didn't study properly, but that would be silly. She knew better than that. If she failed a test, it was either her own fault and she would deal with the consequences, or it was not worth her time.
"Who is your hero?"
This, at least, was back on more familiar ground. "My mother. Everything she's done, I hope to do half as well."
"What would your friends say about you?"
"I think--" Lucy bit her lip, then said, "I think they would say that I know what I want, and that I'm determined to work as hard as it takes to get it." And she really didn't think there was anything wrong with that.
"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"
"I would be more unique." It was the first thing that Lucy thought of, and she wasn't even entirely sure what she meant by it, but maybe the Sorting Hat would understand. She wanted to stand out. As herself. Just herself.
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Odessa Pettigrew - August 28, 2022
Odessa didn't like being in front of a crowd. She'd hated it during Puddlemere's Quidditch matches, where even though she wasn't the spectacle, she felt as such in her father's private box. She'd hated it when she was taken on a victory broomstick ride once, after a successful match. She wasn't used to attention, at least not the sort where people stopped what they were doing to notice her. Getting people's attention meant that she had to be perfect and then she became painfully aware of all of her flaws.
She wasn't used to wearing long robes, so she barely noticeably tripped on her short way to the stool. This was enough to shoot adrenaline throughout her body. She heard laughter from the tables behind her and then in front of her as she sat down and she was sure that they were laughing at her. She sat up, "confidently", as her governess had taught her, her hands rested upon her lap.
It was comforting when a teacher put the too-big hat on her head.
"What class are you most excited about?"
Her heart started palpitating again when she heard the voice in her head. She knew that the Sorting Hat could read minds but now that she was confronted with the fact, Odessa felt unease about it. Now all of her flaws and her imperfections would be on display. For a moment she worried that others would get access to her questioning and thought process but she told herself that this hadn't been the case with the other kids.
Still, she didn't want to take any chances and speak. She didn't want to give any wrong answers and have the Sorting Hat judge her.
She considered the first question. At first, she couldn't think of any class and that worried her. Then, she thought about how out of all magical principles, she found Potions the most useful. There were potions that could make you prettier, more confident in front of crowds, and luckier. There were potions to make your father interested in you and only you and not his Quidditch team. There were also potions to hurt horrible people, like her governess and her rules and strict punishments-
Scared by the path her mind was about to take, Odessa forced herself to stop that train of thought, hoping that it had outrun the Sorting Hat. Thankfully, the Hat got the message that she didn't want to think about it any longer so another question came up:
"How would you deal with failing a test?"
It knew. It knew about her governess. Odessa was terrified of failure. She wasn't allowed to fail. She got that dreaded feeling in the pit of her stomach every time her governess was about to announce the results of one of their tests. 'You shouldn't be making these types of mistakes by now, Miss Pettigrew...' Odessa knew that if her governess could, she'd say: 'You are vapid, Miss Pettigrew. You're good for nothing.'
Odessa used to cry when she failed at something but then she'd be scolded for crying, so now she tried not to cry. So failing wasn't an option.
"Who is your hero?"
At the next question, her head went blank once again. She didn't have a hero, in the passionate sense of the word. She didn't look up to someone obsessively. She thought of some fascinating personalities she'd read about at the backs of Chocolate Frog Cards. Glover Hipworth who had discovered the cure of the common cold and Gunhilda of Gorsemoor who'd discovered the cure of dragonpox. It was so noble to create something that could help so many people.
The next question was easier, in the sense that an answer immediately came to Odessa: "What would your friends say about you?"
Good things, the girl hoped. There was a part of her that didn't feel like she had any close friends. She had her cousins, but they all had siblings so they had each other before they had her. Then, Odessa often had an uneasy feeling that her friends didn't want her around and that they only hang out with her because she had many toys and a large allowance for Honeyduke's. Odessa herself didn't think she was a very exciting person to be around. She liked reading and writing and that could make her lost in her own thoughts.
"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"
My hands, was Odessa's immediate answer. She was convinced that her hands were too big for her arms, that there was something manly about them. Her governess had even told her as much, that she had fingers of unfortunate lengths for music. So, on an immediate and external basis, she'd give herself dainty hands with long, graceful fingers.
Then, she thought more deeply about the answer. She'd like to make herself more interesting to her father. She wished she loved Quidditch more. She was aware that if she was a boy, he might have cared about her more but she didn't like the idea of being a boy. She wished her father would like her as she was, as a girl. She wished her mother was still alive because she would have adored her.
So, nicer hands and not being orphaned by a mother, that was what she'd change about herself.
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Honoria Rookwood - August 28, 2022
Honoria tried to look as dignified as possible when she was called to sit on the stool and take her turn with the sorting hat. It was incredibly odd to hear it's voice echoing in her head, and she was reminded of her conversation with Miss Prewett, who had already gone. Would she be like her father's and end up in slytherin? Her mother had not gone to Hogwarts and so it was hard to gauge, but her father reckoned that she would have been a slyhterin as well.
"What class are you most excited about?"In terms of the magical classes I'm sure I will like potions, although I think I will do well in etiquette. she thought with no small amount of pride.
"How would you deal with failing a test?"
The thought made her feel a little sick, she had no intention of letting that happen. I would probably speak to the professor and see if there was a way to bring my grade up - I have no intention of failing anything. she didn't really want to admit the lack of limits she had to ensure she didn't disappoint or embarrass herself or her family.
"Who is your hero?" That was a tough one, she wasn't sure who she thought of as her 'hero', the person who had the most influence over her was her mother, did that count? She tried to think of a notable English woman - Josephina Flint? she ventured as her answer, sure that her mother would approve of that answer.
"What would your friends say about you?"I think they would say that I as smart and eager to prove myself, to show myself as a worthy lady, and secure my place in society as an elegant debutante.'
"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?" Richer was the first answer that came to her mind- and she immediately felt bad about it. Being in the social position she was felt like being in limbo - too poor for the properly rich girls, and too rich and too socially exposed to be friends with many of the middle class girls. Her parents were clear that it was expected that her fathers star to be on the rise, and if not then her brother would secure the families finances by the time it was his turn, so she was to expect to marry up. Thinking of it made her feel dizzy and a bit sick. eh - I should like to be taller. was the answer she formally thought.
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Chuntao Chang - August 28, 2022
Tao jumped just a bit when the hat was placed upon his head, his hands gripping the side of the chair; while he’d been excited for the sorting, there was something nerve wracking about where he’d belong for the next seven years. He let out a breath a moment later as the nerves settled in his stomach, replaced almost instantly with excitement. It was here he wished he had Longwei or Ida at Hogwarts with him, just so he could find a friendly face in the crowd rather than staring at faces he didn’t know. At least he’d make friends here. (Or at least, he hoped he will.)
Then, the Sorting Hat began to speak, asking questions that made Tao pause as he contemplated his answers. He didn’t speak aloud as he didn’t want any judgement from those who might overhear him. He closed his eyes.
"What class are you most excited about?"
All of them was an instantaneous answer. Longwei and Ida had each found a class they’d excelled in, and Tao could only hope that he’d measure up in the way of academics, too. He’d watched his siblings pour over their school books for years, reading and practicing and scribbling things in the margins to better their understanding; he’d flipped through the textbooks he’d purchased for classes, and while there were some he was more excited for, there wasn’t one that made him groan. He was ready to be a sponge and soak up as much knowledge as he was able to.
Care of Magical Creatures, Tao thought, as it was at the top of his list as most exciting - they had dogs and horses at their home in Irvingly, but Tao was ready to finally be able to see and care for the magical creatures that came with being a wizard. There wasn’t a creature he wasn’t frightened in coming in contact with (or so he told himself, but of course there were a few he’d turn tail and run from.) Being a dragon tamer seemed like a pretty cool career…
"How would you deal with failing a test?"
Tao frowned at the very thought. I wouldn’t ever let this be a possibility... But if it was, he’d be disappointed in himself for not doing his best, for not trying harder, for putting something else in front of studying for the test. He wouldn’t like to fail a test and would vow to work harder to better him; if it happened, which Tao hoped it didn’t, it wouldn’t ever happen a second time.
"Who is your hero?"
Do I have to pick just one? I admire both my siblings for bettering themselves.
It was difficult to pick one hero. He admired his brother’s drive in bettering himself in order to support his family and their business. He put a lot of stock into education, and had even gone to Muggle schooling! Long travelled a lot and came back with stories that Tao was impatient to hear about, his fingers curling around his sleeve the moment he saw him come through the door - of course Tao also missed him terribly and wanted to be near him. Long put his family first a lot even if there was something he wanted to do more; he was smart and Tao spent a lot of time under his feet trying to be just like him.
On the flip side, he also admired Ida. She was going to Flint Academy because she wanted to be better at magic, something that he himself always wished for his future. She was one of the most adept people at Transfiguration he’d ever seen, and if Tao was going to excel at one subject, he was going to use Ida’s determination and drive as an example. One day people were going to read about his sister in textbooks, about the way she’d transformed the subject, and well… Tao wanted that to be his life too. He wouldn’t mind if he turned out like her, either.
"What would your friends say about you?"
Friends. He’d made a few friends with other Irvingly children and had even nervously chatted with a few on the train ride over; the few other first years around him in line had been pleasant, too. But Tao wasn’t sure what his friends would think of him. Loyal, perhaps? No, that didn’t seem like the right word for people he wasn’t close to. Curious, maybe. He didn’t like to leave anyone behind when playing, and he always liked to make sure others were on top of their lessons so they wouldn’t have to remain inside to work on them. Sometimes his curiosity to see what happened overrode any qualms he had about doing something he shouldn’t. Tao enjoyed being with people immensely, often finding himself lonely when there weren’t others around him.
"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"
The hardest question of the bunch and Tao slumped slightly in the chair, his fingers tapping against the arm of it. Of course he had insecurities - he wanted to be taller, wanted to measure up to the bar he’d set for himself, less realistic and more of a dreamer. Oh, and he wished he was better at making friends, and maybe more social overall. Sure he had a couple but he wouldn’t call them good friends. There was also the fear he’d be a friend by default and people were just kind enough to include him. To measure myself against others less. Tao settled on as he blinked his eyes open.
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Maxwell Beck - August 31, 2022
The boy looked doubtful, though composed as he strode up to the hat. There was no reason to be nervous, since he got to watch others first and none of them were screaming or crying over what happened. Plus, he didn’t feel concerned about what an old ratty hat can do to him.
Though he also had his suspicions that the whole thing was rigged. The Headmaster was just deciding all of their places based on his favorites, right? But the jokes on him, since Max didn’t know what mattered in the differences between the houses or where he wanted to go, so he wouldn’t be upset. Besides, it’s not like he really knew any of these random people to care what they think about whatever the hat shouted.
"What class are you most excited about?"
Max frowned - how come he could hear the hat voice in his head so well? Does this mean the hat can hear him thinking? Can it understand Italian too? Tactfully he elected to think in English, ‘I want to learn how to defend myself against stupid people like the Adami’s or take care of Emma. Or maybe invent something to stop the poison that killed my mama so no one has to go through that too. I guess any classes that let me do that. I haven’t taken any classes yet so I don’t really know. So this is sort of a dumb question, but you’re also a brainless hat, so. È così.’
"How would you deal with failing a test?"
The brunette started fidgeting in his seat. How long was this supposed to go on for, and what if he takes too long? ‘I’m not going to cry about it if that’s what you’re asking. But I don’t like it when I fail stuff that anyone can do. I would try harder so it won’t happen again. Unless the problem is the teacher is no good, but then they really don’t care if I fail. So I would still just have to try harder by myself since no one else will do it for me, and to prove the bad teacher wrong.’
"Who is your hero?"
At this question, Max took a considerable pause as his face screwed up in a deep scowl. He sat on his hands and brought his eyes to his knees because he felt his cheeks go red. Briefly, his mind’s eye flickered to the new people he’s met since ma died. His so-called dad and man he was now named after, or so-called uncles Rhys and Tom, that looked nothing like him so were probably not actual uncles. At least that lady named Hestia wasn’t pretending to be someone she wasn’t, but she probably just felt guilty and wanted to make sure he didn’t die.
‘I don’t have a hero, heroes aren’t real to begin with.’ he thought. The boy shrugged as he thought it, not that it made a difference for the hat. Now he was really glad no one could hear the questions or answers besides him. Everyone would probably just make fun of him or worse, feel bad for him.
"What would your friends say about you?"
At this, Max’s scowl deepened. Was this dumb hat trying to be mean? All his friends lived far away now and he’d probably never see them again. ‘I have the best football kick and can run the fastest. People like picking me for their team because I have the best strategies too. The trick is to figure out who is strongest on the opposite team and why. Then it doesn’t matter if the other kids are older or bigger. You just have to focus on how to be a little better than the strongest.’
"If you could change one thing about yourself, what would it be?"
For the second time, he received a question that left him stumped. This wasn’t a good feeling, but he knew he had the answer sitting somewhere at the bottom of his stomach because it flashed in his mind for a second. Still, he took a minute to think it through. It felt like a trick question but he couldn’t guess the hat’s angle. Finally he ventured, ‘I’d turn into a grownup already. So I can just be done with needing help from other people and I can take care of myself.’
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - The Sorting Hat - September 1, 2022
Lincoln Dashwood
Oh, that settled it. "RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted.
Eli Fox
This one was scrappy, and the hat considered it for a long beat. "HUFFLEPUFF!" it finally announced.
Lucy Tatting "SLYTHERIN!" the hat announced for the girl who wanted to be more herself.
Odessa Pettigrew
This one was very insecure. "What's the worst thing someone could call you?" the hat asked, again.
Maxwell Beck
Hm, this one was quite fidgety. "GRYFFINDOR!"
RE: The Sorting Ceremony {1892} - Odessa Pettigrew - September 1, 2022
There was a pause during which Odessa thought the Hat would announce her House. Then, another question followed. This caused adrenaline to shoot through her body as if she'd been caught doing something wrong. She knew that there were people that the Hat took longer to assess and Odessa seemed to be one of them.
After the initial worry of how that might look to others, she actually felt... happy.
Someone was paying attention to her and not dismissing her quickly. She was used to having this kind of behavior from her elders: they congratulated her on something she'd accomplished, but they didn't actually care.
Her first instinct was to think: "A failure", because she was crippled by the idea of being anything less than perfect. If she wasn't perfect, what was she worth?
The issue ran deeper, though. What Odessa actually feared, deep down in her soul and that she couldn't quite elaborate on being eleven, was that she was afraid of being insignificant; of people not caring about her; of being everyone's second choice; of people not wanting to be around her.
It all boiled down to: "That I am unimportant to them. That I was their second choice and that they merely tolerate my presence."