The Great Hall doors finished opening onto warm candlelight, four crowded tables and a ceiling filled with stars.
Minerva led the incoming students down the wide central aisle.
Adrian remembered the shape of the hall from the films, but not the noise of hundreds of conversations, the heat of so many bodies or the attention of every older student they passed.
House colours showed along open academic robes, ties, waistcoats and fitted uniforms.
Some students leaned into the aisle to inspect the new intake, while others continued eating and talking as though the annual procession had already lost its novelty.
Near the middle of the Gryffindor table, Fred and George spotted Adrian and raised their golden goblets in a silent toast.
Percy Weasley, wearing a fifth-year prefect badge, lowered both goblets with one irritated hand and told them to stop encouraging trouble before the Sorting had even begun.
At the front of the hall, the battered Sorting Hat rested on a four-legged stool.
Conversations gradually faded as Minerva unrolled her parchment.
Before Minerva called the first name, Adrian studied the staff seated above the hall.
Dumbledore occupied the central chair beneath the house banners, speaking quietly with Professor Flitwick while his attention moved across the incoming students.
Professor Sprout looked warmer than most of the table, broad and sturdy beneath practical robes.
Snape wore the expression of a man who had already found the new intake disappointing, while Madam Hooch sat straight-backed and alert, as though she expected a Quidditch match to begin between the tables.
Madam Pomfrey looked noticeably different from the elderly healer Adrian remembered from the films.
Silver ran through her hair, but her fitted healer’s robes and steady posture made her appear experienced rather than frail.
Even during the ceremony, she was watching the students for loose collars, pale faces and signs that someone might faint.
Then Adrian’s attention reached Quirrell.
The lowered eyes, nervous movements and purple turban matched his memories closely enough to erase Adrian’s amusement.
The other professors might become teachers, allies or personal complications.
Quirrell was already an active danger.
“Bones, Susan!” Susan walked toward the stool with calm confidence.
The Hat barely touched her hair before shouting: “HUFFLEPUFF!” The yellow-and-black table welcomed her loudly.
Susan sat near the aisle but left the space beside her open, keeping her attention on the front.
“Clarke, Adrian!” Adrian climbed the steps and sat on the stool.
Minerva lowered the ancient Hat over his head, covering his eyes and plunging him into darkness.
Well, a dry voice murmured inside his mind.
You are considerably more complicated than the usual first-year.
The Hat moved through Adrian’s surface thoughts with disturbing ease.
It found his childhood with Claire and Peter, his first month of magic and, behind those memories, the unmistakable weight of another lifetime.
When it tried to follow that older life into specific names and events, the memories blurred.
The same smooth barrier that concealed the system seemed to cover anything capable of exposing too much.
The Hat tested the barrier once before withdrawing.
Two lives inside one mind, and an entire section that refuses to explain itself, the dry voice observed.
I preferred simpler students.
Adrian remained still while the Hat examined the parts of him it could reach.
It found enough ambition for Slytherin, enough curiosity for Ravenclaw and a willingness to take risks that would not have looked unusual at the Gryffindor table.
Beneath all of that, however, sat a stubborn loyalty toward the people Adrian considered his own.
You decided on Hufflepuff before entering the hall, the Hat said.
Adrian did not deny it.
Hufflepuff offered good food, fewer blood-status games and a house that most people underestimated.
Its students were known for working together without demanding attention for everything they accomplished.
Susan waiting at the table was an additional benefit.
The Hat noticed that thought immediately and released a tired mental sigh.
A calculating Hufflepuff with a sealed mind, dangerous ideas and very selective reasons for loyalty.
Your house is going to regret making room for you.
Adrian almost smiled beneath the brim.
Better be— “HUFFLEPUFF!” Adrian removed the Hat and handed it back to Minerva.
As he walked toward the cheering table, the neutral trim of his outer robe shifted into Hufflepuff yellow and black.
Susan moved aside to reveal the seat she had saved for him.
Across the hall, Fred and George raised their goblets again, this time before Percy could stop them.
A compact pink notification appeared at the edge of Adrian’s vision: [MAIN MISSION COMPLETE: GO TO HOGWARTS] [Reward: Random Common Skill Token ×1] [Reward stored for private review] The message vanished before Adrian reached the table.
The Sorting continued after him.
Hermione Granger went to Gryffindor with little hesitation, while Neville Longbottom spent long enough beneath the Hat to look physically ill.
Draco Malfoy joined Slytherin almost immediately.
Harry Potter’s name changed the mood of the entire hall.
Whispers spread between the tables, but Adrian watched the students instead of joining the staring.
When the Hat finally sent Harry to Gryffindor, Fred and George helped produce the loudest celebration yet.
Ron followed near the end of the list and joined his brothers, looking deeply relieved that the Hat had not separated him from Harry.
At the staff table, Dumbledore briefly watched Adrian exchange a toast with Fred and George.
A faint trace of amusement crossed his face before his attention returned to the Sorting.
Massive platters of food suddenly appeared across the golden plates, filling the hall with steam and roasted meat.
Adrian tried pumpkin juice, discovered that he disliked it less than expected, and filled his plate while Susan explained which dishes disappeared first whenever the Quidditch teams returned hungry.
Around them, older Hufflepuffs exchanged summer stories, compared class schedules and complained about professors whose assignments had apparently survived the holidays.
As they ate, Susan introduced Adrian to Hannah Abbott and Justin Finch-Fletchley from their intake.
She also introduced Cedric Diggory, one of several third-years Professor Sprout had asked to help the new students find their rooms and survive their first week.
The Fat Friar joined the celebration, floating happily through the bench.
Across the room, Fred and George caught Adrian’s eye and began miming rude questions about the private Madam Malkin catalogue.
Susan followed his gaze toward the Gryffindor table before leaning close enough that her shoulder pressed against his.
“The twins are discussing your private catalogue again,” she said.
“Which still does not explain why the woman with the food cart gave you premium chocolate.” Adrian kept his attention on his plate.
“I helped move the cart.” “And?” The single word carried enough suspicion that he knew she would not accept a partial answer for long.
“I’ll give you the full version when we are not surrounded by half the school.” Susan returned to her meal, though she took another roasted potato from his plate as punishment.
“You had better.” By the end of the feast, Adrian was full, tired and beginning to understand why the walk to Hufflepuff involved so many stairs.
Professor Sprout was waiting to welcome the first-years near a stack of massive wooden barrels.
She stepped aside while an older student demonstrated the specific tapping rhythm required to open the hidden door.
One nervous student stepped up, tapped the wrong barrel, and immediately received a heavy splash of vinegar directly to the face.
The student stepped back dripping from hair to shoes and refused to approach the barrels again.
Adrian decided the vinegar was probably more effective than a password.
The barrel swung open, revealing a wide, round common room.
It was a warm, welcoming space full of magical plants, copper light, low ceilings, study corners, and older students finishing late conversations.
A prefect led the incoming students away from the common room and into the residential passages.
Each thick wooden door carried a brass nameplate and opened into a small private bedroom.
Washrooms, laundry rooms and study spaces remained shared between the corridor.
Visitors were permitted inside private rooms until curfew.
Anyone making enough noise to disturb the corridor after quiet hours would lose points before breakfast.
The prefect pointed out the nearest washroom, the stairs leading toward the kitchens and the noticeboard where their schedules would appear in the morning.
Adrian found his name on a brass plate near the end of the corridor.
His trunk, cauldron and robe box were already stacked at the foot of the narrow bed.
He had just set his wand case on the desk when footsteps stopped outside.
Susan stood in the open doorway with her arms folded.
She stepped inside, pushed the door shut behind her and remained in front of it.
“Now,” she said, “I am not leaving until you explain exactly why the Trolley Witch rewarded you.”