As Lucien stepped off the train, he saw an immensely tall man with a thick, tangled beard and hair holding a glowing lantern. The man's voice boomed across the platform, loud and resonant. "First-years! This way, this way! Hurry up now, don't be shy."
Seeing this towering figure, Harry took the initiative to step forward and greet him. "Hi, Hagrid."
Hagrid lowered his head, a wide smile spreading across his bearded face. "Hello, Harry. Are these your new friends?" he asked in a muffled voice, his gaze sweeping over Lucien, Ron, and Hermione.
Harry nodded shyly. "We just met on the train," he whispered back.
Hagrid smiled kindly at the young wizards. "Welcome to Hogwarts. Alright then, kids, follow me!"
Soon, Hagrid had led the dozens of first-year students to the edge of a vast, dark lake—the Black Lake. Across its shimmering surface, Lucien could see Hogwarts Castle for the first time. It was a tall and majestic Gothic structure, its many turrets and towers silhouetted against the evening sky. Tiny lights twinkled from its windows, dotting the ancient building with a warm glow. This castle, which had stood for more than a thousand years, was a testament to the mystery and power of magic. A thrill of excitement ran through Lucien. Hogwarts, here I come!
"Alright, four to a boat!" Hagrid instructed. He found a small boat for himself and, with the young wizards following suit, they set off across the water. Lucien naturally led Harry, Ron, and Hermione into a boat, and they slowly followed Hagrid's lead. From behind, the seated Hagrid looked like a small mountain, and the waterline of his boat was deeper than that of the four children combined. This journey across the lake, it was said, was the same path the four founders of Hogwarts had taken. Every year, new students had to undergo this ritual as part of their matriculation.
"Hey, which house do you guys want to be in?" Ron leaned over and whispered. Knowing that the others might not be familiar with the Hogwarts houses, he took the initiative to explain. "There are four houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Every new wizard gets sorted into one of them, and each house has its own characteristics..."
After giving a brief overview, Ron shrugged. "I don't know which house you'll be in, but I'm basically guaranteed to be a Gryffindor." Every red-haired Weasley was a Gryffindor; there were no exceptions.
Harry didn't express his own preference. After listening to Ron's description, he felt a slight aversion to Slytherin but thought the other three houses sounded fine. Hermione, however, had a firm opinion. "I think Gryffindor is the best. Dumbledore himself came from Gryffindor!" she declared, reaching up to smooth her bushy brown hair, which the cold wind had made even more voluminous. "Then there's Ravenclaw. It sounds like a great place for studying."
Ron curled his lip at her words. "My brother says Ravenclaw is full of nerds. It's boring."
Hermione raised an eyebrow, a disdainful smile playing on her lips. "Really? Perhaps some people just don't possess the qualities suitable for Ravenclaw." Ignoring Ron, whose face was rapidly flushing, she turned to Lucien. "Lucien, which house do you want to be in?"
"I don't have a preference," he replied coolly. "I can learn magic anywhere."
Soon, the boats docked, and the group of first-years followed Hagrid to a huge oak door. With a creak, the door swung open, revealing a stern-looking witch in emerald-green robes. It was Professor McGonagall.
"Professor McGonagall, the first-years are all here," Hagrid reported.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here."
"Children, follow me." Professor McGonagall turned and led them through the door. In stark contrast to the cold darkness outside, the castle's entrance hall was filled with light and warmth. Burning torches lined the stone walls, and countless candles floated magically in the air. Looking up, Lucien saw an enchanted ceiling that mirrored the starry night sky. Faced with this dreamlike scene, many of the young wizards couldn't help but gasp in amazement.
Several long tables were arranged vertically in the Great Hall, already filled with older students. At the far end was a raised platform where the teachers sat at another long table, most of them looking down at the new students with gentle eyes.
When they reached the front, Professor McGonagall addressed the nervous first-years. "I am Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress of Hogwarts and Head of Gryffindor House. Welcome to Hogwarts. Before the start-of-term feast, you will be sorted into your houses: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. For the duration of your time here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you 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..."
As soon as she finished speaking, a tattered, patched hat sitting on a stool next to her suddenly tore open a seam near its brim, and a hoarse voice sang out. "Oh, it's my turn, it's my turn! You might not think I'm pretty, but don't judge by what you see... You might belong in Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart... You might belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal..."
Most of the young wizards stared in amazement as the hat sang its song. They were all curious about how a hat could talk, but no one listened very carefully to the lyrics, which were rather ordinary. After the Sorting Hat finished its performance, it fell silent again. McGonagall picked it up and pulled out a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will come forward."
"Abbott, Hannah!"
Lucien watched from below as the ruddy-faced little girl with two golden braids walked up to the stool. McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on her head, and without much hesitation, it shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers.
"Granger, Hermione." After taking a few deep breaths, Hermione walked to the stage. This time, the Sorting Hat took noticeably longer to decide, but after a few minutes, it announced, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Hearing this, Ron leaned over to Harry and whispered, "She mocked me for not having Ravenclaw traits, but she wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw herself." Ron knew, of course, that a long sorting meant the hat saw traits for multiple houses, but he couldn't resist the jab. Harry didn't respond; he was too focused on the next name.
"Grafton, Lucien."
As Lucien walked onto the stage, Professor McGonagall offered him a rare, small smile. The Sorting Hat was placed on his head. Its mouth-like crack was tightly closed, and the two depressions that served as its eye sockets seemed to flex.
One minute passed. Three minutes passed. Five minutes passed. Ten minutes passed...
As time stretched on, Professor McGonagall's expression gradually became strained. Her own sorting had taken a full five minutes, which was considered a "Hatstall." But Lucien's sorting was taking an absurdly long time. The professors at the head table were also surprised, murmuring to each other. Dumbledore, seated in the center, clasped his hands together, his blue eyes flashing with keen interest. The attention he paid to Lucien increased significantly.
The young wizards, who had never seen such a long wait, grew anxious and began to whisper. "Could the old hat be broken?" "No way, can magical items even break?" "It looks like it could. Don't you think that hat is ridiculously old?"
Harry, who had been staring intently at Lucien, felt his eyes go dry. He blinked hard, and then his beautiful, emerald-green eyes suddenly widened in shock.
"Professor!" he shouted, pointing. "That hat is smoking!"