Professor McGonagall briefly explained to Dumbledore what had happened outside the Great Hall, including Alistair’s unusual introduction to the four Houses and the applause that followed.
She seemed ready to say more, but Dumbledore gently raised a hand to stop her.
McGonagall hadn’t lowered her voice or used any privacy charm, so several professors seated nearby had already heard enough to look toward the first-years with renewed curiosity.
Ilona, sitting not far from Dumbledore, naturally heard everything as well.
Beneath the borrowed face created by Polyjuice Potion, Vinda felt an immediate surge of satisfaction.
Alistair hasn’t even been Sorted yet, and he’s already made nearly every first-year remember his name.
He’s doing even better than I expected.
Ilona lifted her goblet slightly in Alistair’s direction as though offering a private toast, then calmly took a sip.
Alistair noticed the gesture but didn’t understand its meaning, while Dumbledore turned back toward McGonagall.
“Professor McGonagall, perhaps we should begin the Sorting Ceremony first.
We can discuss the rest afterward.” McGonagall immediately understood that a crowded Great Hall was hardly the right place to discuss the implications of a Grindelwald descendant attracting an audience before his first meal at Hogwarts.
She gave a small nod and returned to the waiting first-years.
The moment McGonagall announced that the Sorting Ceremony was about to begin, nervousness spread through the group.
Some students fidgeted with their robes, others whispered to themselves, and several stared at the four House tables as though their entire futures depended on the next few minutes.
Alistair, who already knew what the ceremony involved, found their reactions slightly amusing.
Among the first-years, Cassandra appeared calmer than most, although even her normally confident expression had tightened slightly.
In front of them sat the ancient Sorting Hat, looking worn enough that no one unfamiliar with Hogwarts would have guessed how important it was.
Without warning, a tear near the brim opened like a mouth and the Sorting Hat began its traditional opening song.
Alistair’s expression changed almost immediately.
Whatever magical intelligence the Hat possessed, musical talent clearly wasn’t its greatest strength, and more than one first-year looked as though they were resisting the urge to cover their ears.
Alistair endured the performance with increasing impatience until the final note finally ended.
Professor McGonagall then stepped beside the stool holding a long roll of parchment containing the names of the incoming students.
One by one, she began calling them forward.
Each first-year sat on the stool, received the Sorting Hat, and waited while it decided which House would become their home for the next seven years.
Cheers rose from different tables as students were sent to Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin.
Eventually, Professor McGonagall called, “Cassandra.” The golden-haired girl calmly smoothed her robes and stepped forward with the same confidence she’d shown in Diagon Alley and aboard the Hogwarts Express.
She sat down, and McGonagall lowered the Sorting Hat onto her head.
The Hat barely needed any time.
“SLYTHERIN!” Enthusiastic applause immediately erupted from the Slytherin table.
Cassandra released a small breath of relief, then stood with a satisfied smile and headed toward her new House.
As she passed Alistair, she didn’t even slow down.
“I told you.
Slytherin.” Alistair could only watch her continue toward the cheering table, unsurprised that the Hat had confirmed exactly what she’d been insisting since the day they met.
The ceremony continued until Professor McGonagall finally looked down at the parchment and called, “Alistair Vance!” Several professors immediately turned toward him, their interest sharpened by McGonagall’s earlier report.
Alistair walked forward under more attention than he would’ve preferred and sat on the stool.
McGonagall gave him one long, measuring look before carefully lowering the Sorting Hat over his blond hair.
Darkness covered his eyes, followed almost immediately by a quiet voice inside his head.
“Hmm.
Difficult.
Very difficult.” The Hat paused as though examining every part of him.
“Ambition, certainly, but not quite the simple hunger for status or advancement that would make Slytherin an obvious answer.
You have enough nerve to walk directly toward danger when you decide something matters, though…yes, plenty of courage.” Alistair immediately became uneasy.
Then the Hat continued, “Perhaps Gryffindor—” Alistair nearly panicked.
Absolutely not.
Going to Gryffindor meant placing himself directly in the House where Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger would arrive the following year.
From everything Alistair remembered, Gryffindor seemed destined to become the center of one disaster after another, exactly what he wanted to avoid.
Fortunately, weeks of Occlumency training had given him considerably better control over which thoughts remained near the surface of his mind.
Instead of simply resisting the Hat, Alistair deliberately pushed one particular idea forward as clearly as possible.
If you Sort me into Gryffindor, I’ll find a way to claim you as my property.
The Sorting Hat became completely silent.
Alistair continued the thought with absolute seriousness.
You belonged to Godric Gryffindor.
If I become a Gryffindor student, then technically I’m part of his House and magical legacy.
There has to be some obscure inheritance rule, school regulation, or legal loophole I can use.
I’ll research it.
The Hat recoiled inside his mind.
“What kind of eleven-year-old thinks like this?” it muttered, sounding genuinely offended.
“I’ve Sorted students for centuries and I’ve never heard anything so shameless.” There was another uneasy pause.
“Perhaps you don’t belong in Gryffindor at all.
Perhaps you belong in Azkaban.” The last word escaped just loudly enough for Professor McGonagall to hear.
Her eyes widened.
Alistair remained perfectly still beneath the Hat.
To everyone else in the Great Hall, it simply looked as though the Sorting Hat was taking an unusually long time to decide.
McGonagall waited another moment before giving a pointed cough, reminding the ancient magical object that hundreds of people were watching.
The Hat seemed to collect itself.
“All right, all right.
No Gryffindor.” Its tone became noticeably more cautious.
“What about Hufflepuff?
Loyal people, plenty of patience, considerably fewer inheritance disputes involving ancient school artifacts…” Alistair immediately relaxed.
Hufflepuff works for me.
The Hat seemed almost relieved.
“HUFFLEPUFF!” The Hufflepuff table erupted in applause, and one voice rose noticeably above the others.
Alistair looked toward the sound and immediately spotted Cedric cheering enthusiastically.
Professor McGonagall removed the Sorting Hat, still wearing an expression suggesting she intended to ask it several questions later, while Alistair headed straight toward his new House.
Cedric had apparently anticipated the possibility because he’d already arranged for an empty seat beside him.
As soon as Alistair reached the table, Cedric stood and gave him an enthusiastic hug before pulling him into the reserved seat.
“I can’t believe you actually ended up in Hufflepuff!” he said, clearly delighted.
Alistair grinned.
Of the four possibilities, Hufflepuff had genuinely been one of the outcomes he preferred most, especially now that Cedric was there.
“What are you talking about?
Hufflepuff has always been my dream.” Several nearby Hufflepuffs immediately looked pleased.
Cedric, however, knew him well enough after the train ride to become suspicious.
“Really?
Why?
A lot of first-years dream about Gryffindor or Ravenclaw, and plenty of pure-blood families push their children toward Slytherin.
Hufflepuff usually isn’t the House people boast about wanting before they’re Sorted.” Alistair looked at him as though the answer should have been obvious.
“Because it’s closest to the kitchens.” For one second, the surrounding Hufflepuffs stared at him.
Then the entire section burst into laughter.
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