Alistair had initially been a little nervous, half expecting Professor McGonagall to tell him to stop wasting everyone’s time.
Instead, she had calmly challenged him to demonstrate a better introduction, and he couldn’t help admiring her for it.
Looking at the matter purely from a student’s perspective, it wasn’t difficult to understand why Minerva McGonagall had been one of the most respected professors in the Harry Potter stories.
She was strict, but she wasn’t unreasonable enough to silence a student simply for expressing a different opinion.
Unfortunately, Alistair had spoken up partly because he wanted to leave the Head of Gryffindor with a slightly unfavorable impression, so backing down now would defeat the purpose.
He therefore straightened himself and asked politely, “Professor McGonagall, which House would you like me to introduce first?” As the Head of Gryffindor, McGonagall barely needed to think about it.
“Let’s begin with Gryffindor.” The answer was exactly what Alistair had expected, and a faint smile appeared on his face as he turned toward the gathered first-years.
Years later, some students from his year would still remember the sight of Alistair Vance standing outside the magnificent castle before he’d even officially been Sorted, starlight falling across his blond hair while an entire group of new students watched him expectantly.
From a distance, they almost resembled soldiers waiting for inspection, though Alistair himself wasn’t thinking about anything so dramatic.
He merely cleared his throat and announced, “Gryffindor—courage above everything else.” Professor McGonagall gave a small approving nod, because courage was indeed the quality most strongly associated with Gryffindor.
Then Alistair continued, “Their Head of House can turn into a cat.” McGonagall’s expression immediately darkened, while several first-years looked at her with renewed fascination as though hoping she might demonstrate right there.
Alistair pretended not to notice and continued with complete seriousness, “Sword in hand, no hesitation, charging toward danger before anyone else has time to think—Gryffindor, home of the main characters.” By the time he finished, McGonagall had taken a slow breath that looked suspiciously like an attempt to preserve her patience.
“Courage is certainly an important part of Gryffindor, Mr.
Vance, but there is considerably more to the House than courage alone,” McGonagall said.
Apparently deciding that allowing him to continue discussing her own House would only make matters worse, she immediately added, “Very well.
Ravenclaw next.” Alistair secretly celebrated the fact that he’d finally managed to irritate her at least a little.
Turning back toward the students, he raised one hand dramatically and announced, “Ravenclaw—the House of brilliant minds and future geniuses.” McGonagall once again nodded almost instinctively, because nobody could deny Ravenclaw’s reputation for intelligence and academic achievement.
Alistair allowed the compliment to settle before adding, “Unfortunately, their common room is practically at the top of the castle, so apparently academic excellence also requires excellent cardio.” Several students laughed, while a few prospective Ravenclaws suddenly looked less enthusiastic about the stairs.
“Wind outside the tower, rain against the windows, and somebody still studying at three in the morning—that’s Ravenclaw.
Charms, Transfiguration, History of Magic, Astronomy, whatever the subject is, they’ll probably take it seriously.” His memories of American school supplied the rest of the joke.
“SATs, ACTs, AP exams, college applications—give a Ravenclaw enough books and they’ll probably try to ace those too, even though most of Hogwarts wouldn’t know what any of them are.” Several Muggle-born students immediately understood the reference and laughed, while the pure-blood children merely looked confused.
Alistair continued without missing a beat.
“An eagle can’t show how high it can fly by sitting comfortably on the ground, so Ravenclaws naturally live as high as possible.
After climbing all those stairs for seven years, they’ll understand both intellectual achievement and the importance of staying grounded.” He smiled toward the students.
“If your dream is academic glory, Ravenclaw will happily light the road ahead.
Just remember that most of that road apparently goes uphill.” Before McGonagall could respond, one excited first-year called from the group, “What about Hufflepuff?
My dad was a Hufflepuff!” Since McGonagall made no attempt to stop him, Alistair turned toward the boy with an enthusiastic smile.
“Ah, Hufflepuff.
Prime Hogwarts real estate, right beside the kitchens, which means the best chance of getting food before anyone else.” A noticeable number of first-years immediately became more attentive.
“Warm common room, comfortable beds, and practically an unlimited supply of hot chocolate, pancakes, cheeseburgers, barbecue, roast turkey, mashed potatoes, apple pie…” By the time Alistair reached desserts, he noticed several students unconsciously licking their lips.
That reaction made him wonder whether Hufflepuff’s convenient location explained at least part of the House’s popularity.
“Every proper Hufflepuff should understand that a cauldron isn’t useful only for Potions.
With enough creativity, you could probably make breakfast in one too.” A few students laughed, and even McGonagall’s expression twitched slightly.
Alistair placed a hand over his chest and declared solemnly, “The true Hufflepuff philosophy is simple: so what if we finish fourth in the House Cup?
Being last in points doesn’t mean being last in line for dinner.” This time the laughter spread through almost the entire group.
After finishing the Hufflepuff introduction, Alistair finally stopped to breathe.
He had become so enthusiastic while listing food that he’d nearly run himself out of air, but Cassandra had no intention of letting him rest.
She stepped forward with her arms folded and said, “Hey, you still haven’t introduced Slytherin.” The urgency in her voice made it obvious that she considered leaving her future House until last a personal insult.
Alistair swallowed, glanced at her, and smiled.
“All right.
Slytherin.” Cassandra immediately straightened with obvious anticipation.
“A beautiful lakeside residence for anyone who thinks sunlight is overrated, with the added benefit of developing rheumatism before graduation.” Her expression froze.
Alistair continued before she could interrupt.
“Wake up, look through the windows, and you might forget whether you’re inside Hogwarts or already living at the bottom of the Black Lake.
Squid drifting past the glass, fish swimming overhead—perfect for anyone who’s ever wanted an underwater bedroom.” Several students laughed again, while Cassandra’s dark-green eyes narrowed dangerously.
Alistair wisely pretended not to notice.
“Water on every side means excellent protection from fires, thieves, dust storms, and practically anything else that hates getting wet.
It’s basically an Atlantis-style waterfront resort without having to leave the castle.” He spread his arms as though presenting an expensive vacation package.
“Why fly all the way to Florida for ocean views when Slytherin can give you underwater scenery every morning?” A few Muggle-born students laughed harder at that, while Cassandra looked increasingly torn between annoyance and refusing to admit that the joke was funny.
When Alistair finally finished introducing all four Houses, complete silence settled outside Hogwarts Castle.
Professor McGonagall stared at him with an expression suggesting she was reconsidering the wisdom of ever asking him to speak, while Cassandra continued glaring at him from among the students.
For several seconds, nobody seemed certain how to react.
Then someone near the back suddenly shouted, “Bravo!” Applause immediately erupted through the crowd, growing louder until it echoed against the ancient stone walls.
Alistair stood at the front and looked around at the cheering first-years with an increasingly strange expression.
For a moment, he felt less like a new Hogwarts student and more like a stand-up comedian who had somehow wandered onto a magical stage and discovered an enthusiastic audience.
That illusion ended the moment McGonagall’s magically amplified voice rang out behind him.
“Silence!
Silence!” The first-years immediately remembered that the stern Deputy Headmistress was still standing there and quieted down almost at once.
Alistair was equally quick to retreat into the group.
He had already achieved his goal, and staying in the spotlight any longer would only create unnecessary trouble.
McGonagall fixed him with a stern look and said, “Mr.
Vance, you certainly seem to know quite a bit about Hogwarts, although your understanding contains a considerable number of…misconceptions.
I believe that once you’ve actually studied here, you’ll gradually develop a more accurate understanding of all four Houses.” Several students struggled not to start laughing again.
“Now, everyone form a line and follow me,” McGonagall continued.
“It’s time for the Sorting Ceremony.
Good heavens, everyone inside must be wondering what has taken us so long.” She gave Alistair one final sharp glance before turning toward the castle, and the first-years quickly formed a line behind her.
Alistair obediently moved back among them, wearing an expression of complete innocence as though he hadn’t just turned Professor McGonagall’s formal orientation into a comedy performance.
The moment her back was turned, however, the irritation on McGonagall’s face slowly gave way to concern.
The resemblance wasn’t one of appearance, but of presence.
Gellert Grindelwald had possessed an extraordinary ability to stand before a crowd, speak with complete confidence, and make people listen regardless of whether they fully agreed with him.
Alistair was only his grandnephew, yet at eleven years old he’d already managed to make nearly every first-year remember him before the Sorting Ceremony had even begun.
McGonagall couldn’t help thinking of the applause that had followed so many of Gellert’s speeches decades earlier.
Dumbledore, this child truly does carry Grindelwald blood.
Professor McGonagall pushed open the ancient doors, and the noise of hundreds of students immediately reached the waiting first-years.
They followed her into the Great Hall, where four long House tables stretched beneath the enchanted ceiling and countless curious faces turned toward the newcomers.
When Alistair passed the Hufflepuff table, Cedric spotted him almost immediately and greeted him with an enthusiastic wave.
Alistair smiled and returned the gesture without slowing down.
The friendly welcome only strengthened his already favorable opinion of Hufflepuff.
The students weren’t the only ones watching.
Several professors at the staff table were also studying the incoming class, and Dumbledore looked over them through his half-moon spectacles with obvious interest.
“Professor McGonagall,” he remarked pleasantly, “it seems our new students are a little late this year.” His gaze moved across the first-years as though searching for someone in particular, and Alistair clearly felt it pause on him for a brief moment before moving away.
McGonagall walked toward the Headmaster and leaned down to quietly explain what had delayed them outside.
Alistair couldn’t hear their conversation, but he could make a reasonable guess.
Then his attention shifted toward someone seated not far from Dumbledore.
Ilona.
Seeing her already seated among the Hogwarts staff answered the question immediately.
Whatever discussion she’d needed to have with Dumbledore had clearly gone well.
Ilona had officially become Hogwarts’s new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
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