The great doors of Hogwarts swung shut behind them with an echoing boom. The gathered first-years shuffled nervously, their eyes darting around the massive stone hallways, illuminated by flickering torches. Shadows danced along the high-arched ceiling, giving the ancient castle a sense of solemn grandeur.
Clark took in the air, scented with aged parchment, polished wood, and faint traces of candle wax. It was surreal, stepping into a world he had only read about, a world that was now as tangible as his own hands.
At the front of the group, Professor McGonagall stood tall, her emerald-green robes flowing as she clasped her hands in front of her. Her sharp, piercing gaze swept over the fresh batch of students, lingering momentarily on a few before moving on. When her eyes landed on Clark, there was the briefest flicker of something—curiosity? Wariness?
Clark smirked ever so slightly.
"You are about to be sorted into your houses," McGonagall began, her voice crisp, authoritative. "Hogwarts has four houses—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house values different qualities, and your house will be like your family for the duration of your time here. You will eat with your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and earn or lose points for your house based on your actions."
Draco, standing beside Clark, straightened proudly at the mention of Slytherin, while Hermione, on Clark's other side, folded her arms, her brows knitted in thought.
"The Sorting is a simple process," McGonagall continued. "You will each take turns wearing the Sorting Hat, which will determine the house that best suits you."
Clark raised an eyebrow. He had seen this moment in the movies, read about it in books, but standing here in real life—watching the nervous shifting of his peers, hearing their hushed whispers—made the moment feel infinitely more real.
At that moment, the massive doors to the Great Hall swung open.
A hush fell over the group.
McGonagall turned. "Follow me."
The Great Hall
Clark stepped inside, and the breath hitched in his throat for just a moment.
The Great Hall was stunning.
The vast ceiling above them mirrored the night sky, enchanted stars twinkling against a backdrop of swirling clouds. Floating candles drifted lazily in midair, their golden light casting a warm glow over the four long tables, each filled with older students. The four house banners hung proudly, representing Gryffindor's courage, Hufflepuff's loyalty, Ravenclaw's wisdom, and Slytherin's cunning.
At the head of the room, seated behind a grand, elevated table, were the Hogwarts professors.
Clark's gaze flickered across the high table.
Dumbledore, with his long silver beard, radiated an air of quiet amusement. Snape, seated near the edge, looked just as severe and brooding as ever. Professor Sprout, with her kind eyes, sat near Flitwick, who was barely visible behind the grand golden plates before him.
And then, Clark's eyes landed on Professor McGonagall, now making her way toward the center of the hall.
Her emerald robes fit snugly around her surprisingly curvaceous frame, and as she turned slightly, Clark noticed the faintest hint of muscle beneath her stern exterior. He had always known McGonagall as the strict, no-nonsense professor, but now in this world … now he saw something else. Something that made him glance at her lips, at the way her expression hardened with control.
'Now, that's interesting.'
The Sorting Hat's Song
At the front of the room, an old, patched hat sat atop a three-legged stool. Then, to Clark's mild amusement, it moved.
And spoke.
"Oh, you may think I'm just a hat,
But listen now, and heed my chat!
I sort the young and bold and bright,
To find which house will fit them right.
Brave Gryffindors, with hearts so strong,
Charging forth against the wrong.
Cunning Slytherins, sharp and sly,
With minds that scheme and reach for high.
Witty Ravenclaws, ever wise,
Seeking truth behind the lies.
And patient Hufflepuffs, so true,
Loyal friends through and through.
So place me now upon your head,
And I will see where you are led!"
The hall erupted into polite applause.
The Sorting Begins
The first student was called forward.
"Abercrombie, Euan."
A nervous-looking boy stumbled to the stool. McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat atop his head. A moment later—
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table cheered as Euan hurried over, relief plain on his face.
One by one, students were sorted.
"Bones, Susan." – "HUFFLEPUFF!""Boot, Terry." – "RAVENCLAW!""Bulstrode, Millicent." – "SLYTHERIN!"
Clark remained impassive as the sorting continued. He wasn't nervous. If anything, he was curious about what the hat would find inside his head.
And then—
"Granger, Hermione."
Hermione stiffened slightly before stepping forward. She sat down, and McGonagall placed the hat on her head.
Clark watched closely.
The Sorting Hat took its time. Hermione's expression shifted slightly, as if she were having an internal debate. Her lips pressed together, her fingers clenched in her lap.
"Ahh," the Hat's voice rang through her mind. "An interesting one. A brilliant mind—Ravenclaw would do well with you."
Hermione straightened.
"And yet… ambitious, determined. A hunger for knowledge, but not for its own sake. You desire mastery, control, and the ability to shape the world as you see fit."
A long pause.
"The mind of a scholar, but the will of a ....."
Another pause.
"Slytherin!"
The Great Hall fell silent for a moment before whispers broke out.
A Mudblood in Slytherin? The very idea was scandalous.
Hermione looked stunned, hesitating before making her way to the Slytherin table. Draco shot her an intrigued look as she sat down.
Clark smirked.
And then—
"Potter, Harry."
Silence.
Clark strode forward, his movements relaxed, confident. He settled onto the stool. The Sorting Hat was placed upon his head.
Clark's Sorting
Immediately, Clark felt the hat's presence probing his mind.
"Hmm… curious," the Sorting Hat mused. "Very curious."
Clark smirked internally.
"I see power, great power. More than any child should have. I see something beyond human… something divine."
The Hat hesitated. "Bravery, yes, but not reckless. Intelligence, but pragmatic. Ambition… oh, yes. You seek great things. And something else—"
A pause.
Clark could feel the Hat's confusion.
Then he spoke, his voice cool. "Put me in Slytherin."
Another pause.
"You would do well there," the Hat admitted. "But are you sure?"
"Yes."
"…Very well. If you are certain, then let it be—"
"SLYTHERIN!"
The Great Hall was silent.
Then, murmurs erupted. A Potter in Slytherin? Unheard of.
Clark stood, casually walking to the Slytherin table. He could feel the weight of stares on him. Draco looked both smug and confused. Hermione watched him intently. The other Slytherins regarded him with a mix of curiosity and speculation.
At the head table, Dumbledore's twinkle had dimmed. Snape's expression, however, was unreadable.
Clark merely smirked.
Yes.
This was going to be fun.
To be continued…