Chapter 19
"In a few minutes, the Sorting Ceremony will take place in front of the entire school," Professor McGonagall said, her eyes scanning the disheveled young witches and wizards. "So, I suggest you tidy yourselves up and look sharp while you wait."
Harry nervously tried to flatten his unruly hair. Devero, however, remained calm and composed. Though he felt a bit drained without his usual mental boost, a quick practice of meditation had left him refreshed. *The wisdom of the ancients really works wonders!* he thought.
"When they're ready, I'll come back to fetch you," Professor McGonagall continued. "While you wait, keep quiet." With that, she left the room.
The moment she was gone, the young wizards erupted into chatter, excitedly discussing the upcoming Sorting Ceremony. Devero, however, wasn't fazed. Unlike these clueless kids, he was a seasoned Harry Potter fan, having read all seven books and watched all eleven movies. The Sorting Ceremony was no big deal to him. Ravenclaw, his dream house, would be ideal. Gryffindor, with the main trio, wouldn't be bad either. Even Hufflepuff would be fine—free snacks from the house-elves were a perk. Slytherin, though? That was his last choice. Not only was it the house of his mentor, Snape, which gave him some psychological baggage, but he'd already crossed paths with Malfoy and his cronies on the train—definite Slytherins. Spending seven years with them? No thanks.
If the Sorting Hat tried to place him in Slytherin, Devero had a plan. He'd mimic Harry from the books, silently chanting, *"Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin…"* It should work. After all, the Sorting Hat respected personal choice—how else did a cowardly sneak like Pettigrew end up in Gryffindor? *Plan perfect!*
Speaking of Malfoy, Devero had spotted him and his goons right after getting off the train, their faces bruised and battered. His last toss on the train must've been rougher than he thought. They were mocked by other kids as they sulked, heads down, especially Malfoy, who usually strutted around like he owned the place. Seeing them like that? *Pure satisfaction,* Devero thought, his fear of expulsion fading away.
Taking advantage of the moment, Devero resumed his meditation. The other kids were too nervous to talk, especially Hermione, who was muttering spells under her breath at lightning speed. Devero focused on his breathing, practicing his meditation even while standing, though it wasn't as effective. As he regulated his breath and relaxed, the world seemed to fade away. Hermione's voice grew distant until it vanished entirely. Even when a ghost startled the other kids, causing them to scatter, Devero remained undisturbed.
He entered a meditative state, where only he and his magic existed, surrounded by a misty gray fog. A profound calm washed over him. Gradually, he felt his control over his magic sharpen. The fog around him receded slightly, and he could see the other kids dodging the ghost, but it was like watching from a third-person perspective. He even saw *himself*—not through his own eyes, but as if observing from outside. It was disorienting, like looking in a mirror and seeing a completely different angle of yourself.
Curious, Devero tried to push the fog back further by channeling more magic, but his current skill level wasn't enough. Shrugging it off, he resumed his meditation, cycling through it twice more before slowly opening his eyes. He felt clear-headed, calm, and unshakable, as if nothing could rattle him now. Just then, the ghosts finished greeting the first-years and drifted through the walls.
"Devero, you won't believe what you just missed!" Neville, despite coming from a wizarding family, was trembling, clearly spooked by his first ghost encounter.
Devero smiled. "No worries, Neville. I hear one of our classes is taught by a ghost."
Neville's face paled even more.
"Form a single line," Professor McGonagall announced, returning. "Follow me."
The first-years followed her into the Great Hall, where the four long tables—representing Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin—were adorned with elegant silverware and candelabras. Candlelight flickered softly across the polished surfaces. Older students, already seated, turned to watch the newcomers, though most eyes were on Harry, who looked uncomfortable under the scrutiny.
The hall's enchanted ceiling stole the show, even for Devero. It mirrored a starry night sky, with twinkling stars and a glowing moon casting a silvery light over the hall, as if the entire universe had been brought indoors.
Professor McGonagall led the first-years down a red carpet to the front, where a worn, patched, and dirty Sorting Hat sat on a high stool. Devero grimaced—he wasn't thrilled about putting *that* on his head. Soon, the hat burst into its quirky Sorting Song, introducing the four houses to raucous applause. Devero clapped along, wanting to stay on the hat's good side for his ideal placement.
As expected, Hannah Abbott was sorted into Hufflepuff. Devero was in the middle of the line, behind Malfoy but ahead of Harry. One by one, students were sorted. Malfoy, as soon as he sat down, began whispering to the Slytherin prefect, occasionally pointing at Devero—probably tattling.
Finally, "Devero Alexander!" was called. His uncommon surname drew a few curious glances. With confident strides, Devero climbed the steps, picked up the Sorting Hat, and was about to place it on his head when the hat suddenly shrieked, "SLYTHERIN!!!"