When Hermione nervously asked about the Sorting Ceremony, the little wizards around her immediately turned their attention to Professor Sprout. Their faces were a mix of hope and anxiety. Even those who'd grown up in wizarding families looked uncertain. No matter how many times they'd asked their parents or older siblings, the answers had always been mysterious—sometimes even frightening.
Ron Weasley, for instance, had been told by his mischievous twin brothers that he'd have to wrestle a troll or duel a werewolf to prove himself worthy of Hogwarts. The stories had left him pale and jittery.
Hermione, still anxious, rattled off her worries.
"Will there be a test? Do we have to show how much magic we've learned? I've read Hogwarts: A History, and some of A History of Magic, and I know a few basic spells, but I haven't had time to study Transfiguration in depth. Professor, is there any hope for me to pass the Sorting Ceremony like this?"
As Hermione's questions tumbled out, a hush fell over the group. Some students stared at her in awe, as if she were some kind of academic prodigy. Others looked even more nervous, realizing they hadn't learned any magic at all. Was it too late to start cramming now?
Sensing the growing panic, Professor Sprout gave a sly, playful smile. Of course, she wouldn't spoil the tradition by revealing the truth about the Sorting Ceremony. The secrecy was a rite of passage for every Hogwarts student, a tradition as old as the castle itself.
"Oh, yes," she said, drawing out her words with dramatic flair. "It's a very, very—very difficult test."
A collective gasp swept through the crowd. Faces turned white, and some students clutched their robes in fear.
But then Professor Sprout's expression softened, and she looked directly at Char. She noticed, with a touch of disappointment, that he wasn't the least bit anxious. She'd hoped to see her calm, steady nephew flustered for once.
She turned to address everyone, her voice ringing out clear and warm.
"But there's nothing to worry about. It doesn't matter where you come from, or who your family is, or whether you're rich or poor. If you've received your Hogwarts letter, you belong here. Brave or timid, Hogwarts is waiting for you. This school never gives up on any student."
A wave of relief washed over the first-years. The tension in the air eased, and a few nervous smiles appeared. Professor Sprout winked at Char. "See you at the Sorting Ceremony," she said, before disappearing down another path.
Char, Hermione, Neville, and the others followed Hagrid, who led them along a steep, narrow path through the darkness. Hermione, still jittery, muttered passages from A History of Magic under her breath, oblivious to the odd looks from her classmates.
Char finally interrupted her with a gentle sigh.
"Hermione, you can go to any house you want. All four are part of Hogwarts, and there's really no difference between them—just different strengths. No matter where you end up, your success will be decided by your own efforts, not by which house you're in. Besides, if you keep memorizing History of Magic, you'll miss out on the magic of arriving at Hogwarts for the first time."
Hermione blinked, then smiled, letting the book fall to her side. Char felt a quiet satisfaction, glad he could help her relax.
They trudged through the night, the air crisp and full of anticipation. Hagrid called out, "Turn this corner, and you'll see Hogwarts for the first time!"
A chorus of "Ooooh!" rose from the students as they rounded the bend. The Black Lake shimmered in the moonlight, and across its still surface, the towers of Hogwarts Castle glowed golden and majestic. Even Char, who had seen it all in the movies, felt a thrill of awe. This was the true beginning of his magical journey.
After a moment to take it all in, Hagrid organized them into small boats. Char, Hermione, Neville, and a red-haired girl named Susan Bones climbed into one together.
"Hello, I'm Susan Bones," the girl said, her voice friendly and bright.
Char and Neville exchanged a glance, both recognizing the name.
"Hello, I'm Char Sprout," Char replied.
"I'm Neville Longbottom," added Neville.
Susan's eyes lit up. "Oh! My uncle and aunt told me about both of you. Our parents were comrades-in-arms."
She hesitated, then added softly, "But maybe this isn't the time to talk about that."
Char and Neville both nodded, understanding the pain behind her words. The Bones, Sprout, and Longbottom families had all suffered losses in the war against Voldemort. It was a bond that ran deep, even among children.
Char also remembered that Susan was now cared for by her aunt, Amelia Bones—a formidable witch, rumored to be a future Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. He recalled from the original books that Amelia would indeed rise to that post, but that tragedy would strike the Bones family a few years later, at the hands of a Death Eater.
Char's eyes narrowed as he silently repeated the name Antonin Dolohov. In the books, Dolohov had been responsible for many atrocities. Char promised himself that, if he ever gained the strength, he would do everything in his power to stop Dolohov and protect those he cared about.
He glanced around the boat. Char, Neville, and Susan had all lost family to Dolohov. Even Hermione, though she didn't know it yet, would one day be gravely injured by him. In this little boat, they were united by a common enemy.
But Char knew he wasn't ready for such battles yet. For now, his focus had to be on growing stronger—one plant at a time.
The boats glided across the lake, drawing closer to the castle. The excitement and nerves of the first-years grew with every stroke of the oars.
At last, they reached the shore. Professor McGonagall was waiting for them, her sharp gaze sweeping over the new arrivals. She led them into the castle, where they paused to tidy their robes and line up in the grand entrance hall.
Inside the Great Hall, the enchanted ceiling sparkled with starlight. The Sorting Hat sat on its stool, ready to begin its "beautiful" song. The students listened in awe, their hearts pounding.
Then Professor McGonagall called out the first name:
"Hannah Abbott!"
The Sorting Ceremony had begun, and Char felt a surge of anticipation. His Hogwarts adventure was truly underway.