Chapitre 6: 6. Sorting
Apollyon navigated through the throngs of commuters and travelers at King's Cross Station, each step taking her closer to a future she had once only dreamt of. The cacophony of sounds—the announcements over the PA system, the rumble of trains arriving and departing, the chatter of passengers—created a symphony of everyday life that was both familiar and utterly foreign to her in this moment of transition.
Apollyon's heart pounded in her chest as she stood between platforms 9 and 10 at King's Cross Station, her eyes scanning the bustling scene before her. The vast, echoing expanse of the station was a hive of activity, with people weaving in and out of each other's paths, their faces set in expressions of haste or anticipation. The air was thick with the scent of coffee from nearby stands, mingled with the metallic tang of the trains and the warm, doughy aroma of freshly baked pastries.
The task before her—finding the gateway to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters—loomed large in her mind. Knowledge from her previous life told her that the entrance lay concealed in the very fabric of the mundane world, hidden in plain sight amongst the pillars that lined the platforms. But which pillar was the question that gnawed at her, a puzzle she needed to solve amidst the chaos of the station.
Drawing a deep breath, Apollyon clutched her suitcase tighter, her other hand gripping her wand within her pocket. Her gaze darted from one pillar to the next, each one appearing indistinguishable from the last, solid and imposing. She remembered reading about the magical platform in the stories, about the need to walk through the barrier with a sense of purpose and not a shred of doubt.
With a determined set to her jaw, Apollyon chose her pillar—a seemingly random choice to an outsider, but to her, it felt as if intuition guided her steps. She steeled herself, remembering tales of first-years hesitating and causing scenes. She couldn't afford doubt; not here, not now.
Taking a moment to ensure her approach wouldn't draw undue attention, Apollyon waited for a brief lull in the foot traffic. The sounds of the station seemed to fade into a distant hum as she focused on her target. Then, with a surge of courage, she strode forward, her eyes fixed on the space just beyond the pillar, her mind filled with visions of the Hogwarts Express and the adventures that awaited her.
The sensation as she passed through the barrier was unlike anything she had ever experienced—a momentary chill, a feeling of being squeezed through an impossibly narrow space, and then a sudden release into warmth and light. She stumbled slightly as she emerged on the other side, her senses immediately assaulted by the sights and sounds of Platform Nine and Three-Quarters.
Before her stretched the gleaming scarlet engine of the Hogwarts Express, steam billowing from its chimney, the hustle and bustle of students and families around her creating a tapestry of excitement and farewell. The platform was alive with the colors of house scarves, the trunks and pets of dozens of students, and the unmistakable energy of anticipation for the year to come.
With each step towards the Hogwarts Express, Apollyon felt the weight of her past lifting, replaced by a buoyant sense of anticipation for the future. The platform buzzed with the energy of countless reunions and farewells: young first-years clinging to their parents, older students laughing and recounting tales of their summer adventures, and the occasional pet owl hooting in mild protest at the commotion. The air was rich with the smell of steam and coal from the train, a scent that promised adventure and whispered of ancient magic.
As she navigated through the crowd, Apollyon couldn't help but marvel at the diversity of her fellow students. Some wore their house colors with pride, while others, like her, were clad in more mundane attire, their Hogwarts robes and scarves neatly packed in trunks and suitcases. Everywhere she looked, there were signs of the vibrant community she was about to join—a tapestry of histories, talents, and dreams, all converging on this singular journey to Hogwarts.
Approaching the train, Apollyon found herself hesitating, not from doubt but from the sheer enormity of the moment. The Hogwarts Express stood majestic and inviting, its scarlet carriages gleaming under the canopy of the station, a symbol of the magical journey that lay ahead. Taking a deep breath, she hoisted her suitcase onto the train, her heart skipping a beat as she crossed the threshold into the carriage.
Inside, the train was a world unto itself. The corridors were lined with compartments, each a small universe of possibility. Apollyon peeked into several, searching for a seat. Some compartments were already filled with students, their laughter and chatter spilling into the hallway, while others offered a quieter, more introspective space.
Finally, she found a compartment with a window seat and settled in, placing her suitcase beside her. As the train's whistle pierced the air, signaling the imminent departure, a ripple of excitement coursed through her. She pressed her face against the window, watching as families and friends exchanged final waves and words of encouragement.
The train lurched forward, and with a steady increase in speed, King's Cross faded from view, replaced by the sprawling landscape of the English countryside. The rhythm of the train on the tracks, coupled with the distant conversations of her fellow students, created a soothing backdrop to her swirling thoughts.
On the train, nestled comfortably in her seat, Apollyon allowed herself a moment to simply be, her eyes tracing the ever-changing tapestry of the English countryside as it whizzed by. The lush greens and browns of the landscape, dotted with small towns and solitary farmhouses, offered a serene backdrop to her tumult of emotions and thoughts. As the initial thrill of departure settled into a gentle hum of excitement, Apollyon turned her attention inwards, contemplating the vast array of experiences that awaited her at Hogwarts.
After a while, her curiosity got the better of her, and she decided to explore the contents of her suitcase. She carefully unpacked a few items, her fingers brushing against the smooth cover of "The Standard Book of Spells, Grade 1." Opening it at a random page, she read a few lines, whispering the incantations under her breath, feeling the now-familiar surge of magic tingling at her fingertips, a silent promise of the wonders to come.
Next, she pulled out a small, leather-bound journal and a quill from her bag. The journal was a recent acquisition, intended to be a repository for her thoughts, observations, and, hopefully, a record of her magical growth. She dipped the quill in ink and began to write, her script flowing across the page with ease. She wrote about her feelings of anticipation, the surreal experience of walking through the barrier at Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, and her aspirations for her first year at Hogwarts. Writing provided a much-needed outlet for her swirling thoughts and emotions, grounding her in the present and allowing her to articulate the hopes and fears that accompanied this significant chapter in her life.
The remainder of the journey was spent alternating between reading, writing, and simply watching the world go by. Apollyon felt a profound sense of peace and belonging, her initial anxieties about fitting in at Hogwarts dissolving with each mile that passed. She was on her way to becoming a part of something much larger than herself, a world brimming with magic, learning, and friendship.
As the Hogwarts Express gradually came to a halt, its brakes emitting a long, sighing sound that seemed to mark the end of one journey and the beginning of another, Apollyon stood by the window, her heart a symphony of anticipation and wonder. The train's final shudder as it stopped sent a ripple of excitement through the compartments, and a collective murmur of eagerness filled the air.
Clutching her wand, Apollyon joined the stream of students making their way towards the exit, her robes swishing softly with each step. The fabric of her Hogwarts attire felt like a second skin, imbued with the promise of belonging and the adventures to come. As she stepped off the train, the cool evening air of the Scottish Highlands caressed her face, carrying with it the scent of pine and the distant murmur of the Black Lake lapping against its shores.
The platform was a flurry of activity, with students of all ages reuniting with friends, exchanging stories of their summer escapades, and speculating about the year ahead. First-years like Apollyon looked around with wide-eyed wonder, their nerves palpable amidst the excitement. Despite being surrounded by strangers, Apollyon didn't feel alone; she was part of a larger narrative, a thread woven into the rich tapestry of Hogwarts' history.
"First-years, this way!" bellowed a voice that cut through the din—a voice that Apollyon recognized from descriptions in her books as belonging to Hagrid, the Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts. Towering above the students, Hagrid was a beacon for the newcomers, his presence both reassuring and awe-inspiring.
Apollyon made her way towards the sound. She found herself drawn to Hagrid's kindly demeanor, his smile a warm welcome to the magical world she was about to enter.
"Right then, follow me, all o' yeh," Hagrid called out, leading the first-years towards the fleet of small boats that bobbed gently on the Black Lake's dark waters. The sight of the boats, with Hogwarts Castle looming majestically in the distance, sent a shiver of excitement down Apollyon's spine.
As she approached the boats, Apollyon's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. The reflection of the castle in the lake's glassy surface was like a mirror to her soul, reflecting back at her the myriad possibilities that lay within its walls. She was about to cross a literal and metaphorical threshold into a world where magic was real, and her dreams were valid.
"Mind yer step now," Hagrid instructed as Apollyon and a few other first-years clambered into one of the boats. Settling into her seat, Apollyon glanced around at her fellow passengers, their faces illuminated by the soft glow of the lantern that hung from the boat's prow.
As the flotilla set off across the lake, the castle grew ever larger, its windows aglow with welcoming light. Apollyon felt a profound sense of coming home, a feeling that was both exhilarating and comforting. The journey across the lake was a silent one, with each student lost in their own thoughts and reflections.
Apollyon's gaze remained fixed on Hogwarts, the castle's silhouette etched against the starry sky a sight she knew she would remember for the rest of her life. In this moment, all her fears and uncertainties were washed away by the dark waters of the lake, leaving only a sense of anticipation and a deep, unshakeable belief in the magic that awaited her.
The procession of first-year students, led by Hagrid's towering figure, made its way up the winding path towards the castle. The air was crisp, carrying the scent of the surrounding forest and the faint aroma of the feast that awaited them. The castle's massive doors loomed ahead, ancient and welcoming, a threshold between the world they knew and the world they were about to discover.
As they entered the grand entrance hall, Apollyon's eyes widened in amazement. The vast space was lit by thousands of floating candles that cast a warm, golden glow over the stone walls and the polished floor. The murmur of voices and the clatter of dishes echoed down from the Great Hall, where the rest of the school was already gathered.
Hagrid led them to a halt in front of a large, wooden door. "Wait here for a mo'," he said, his voice a gentle rumble. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to begin. Not to worry, you'll be sorted into your houses soon enough."
As the first-year students gathered in a cluster of nervous excitement and whispered speculations, the large wooden door swung open once more. This time, it was Professor McGonagall who appeared, her presence commanding immediate silence and attention. Her robes, emerald green, swished softly as she stepped forward, her gaze sweeping over the group with an expression that was both stern and reassuring.
"Good evening, students," she began, her voice clear and authoritative. "Welcome to Hogwarts. In a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join your fellow students in the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony."
Apollyon watched, her heart beating a rapid tattoo against her ribs, as Professor McGonagall explained the significance of the Sorting Ceremony. "The Sorting Hat will determine your houses, which will be your family while you are here at Hogwarts. Your house will be a source of friendship and guidance, and I encourage you to uphold its values with pride."
With a gesture for them to follow, Professor McGonagall led the way into the Great Hall. The sight that greeted Apollyon was nothing short of magical. The ceiling, bewitched to mirror the night sky, stretched high above, a canvas of deep blue sprinkled with stars. Four long tables filled the hall, each abuzz with the chatter of returning students, their house colors proudly on display.
Apollyon's gaze was drawn to the front of the hall, where a solitary stool stood with the Sorting Hat perched atop it. The hat, old and patched, seemed imbued with a wisdom and gravity that belied its worn appearance.
As the first-years lined up, the Great Hall fell into an anticipatory hush. The Sorting Hat stirred, and in a voice that filled the hall, it began to sing. Its song spoke of the founding of Hogwarts and the qualities cherished by each house: bravery for Gryffindor, loyalty for Hufflepuff, wisdom for Ravenclaw, and ambition for Slytherin.
When the song concluded, the hall erupted into applause, a warm welcome for the newcomers. Professor McGonagall then stepped forward, holding a scroll from which she began to call names. One by one, the first-years approached the stool, the hat was placed upon their heads, and their houses announced, each declaration met with cheers from the respective tables.
The Great Hall, steeped in tradition and magic, held its breath as Professor McGonagall unfurled the scroll and began to call the names of the first-year students. Each name called was a moment of destiny being shaped, a new chapter in the storied history of Hogwarts.
"Granger, Hermione," was one of the first names called. A girl with bushy brown hair and an eager expression approached the stool. The Sorting Hat barely touched her head before proclaiming, "GRYFFINDOR!" Her march towards the Gryffindor table was met with enthusiastic applause, her future classmates welcoming her with open arms.
The next name that drew attention was "Longbottom, Neville." A boy with a round face, looking rather nervous, walked up to the stool. After a moment of contemplation, the hat announced, "GRYFFINDOR!" Neville's relief was palpable as he joined Hermione at the Gryffindor table, the cheers of his new housemates bolstering his spirits.
"Malfoy, Draco," was called, and a boy with sleek blond hair strutted confidently to the stool. His sorting was swift, the hat declaring "SLYTHERIN!" almost immediately. Draco walked to the Slytherin table with a smug look, greeted by the applause of his fellow Slytherins, clearly where he expected and wanted to be.
As more names were called, the anticipation in the room grew. "Weasley, Ronald," prompted a tall, gangly boy with bright red hair to take his turn. The Sorting Hat took a moment longer this time but ultimately decided on "GRYFFINDOR!" Ron's walk to his table was met with a particularly loud cheer, the Weasley family being well known in the Gryffindor lineage.
Finally, "Potter, Harry." A murmur ran through the hall as Harry, the boy who lived, the child who had survived a curse that had taken down one of the most dangerous wizards of all time, walked nervously to the stool. The Sorting Hat seemed to deliberate longer than with any other student, whispers of "not Slytherin" audible to those nearest. Then, with a voice that echoed through the hall, "GRYFFINDOR!" was announced. The hall erupted in perhaps the loudest applause yet, the significance of Harry Potter joining their ranks not lost on anyone.
After Harry Potter's name is called and the hall still buzzes with excitement from his sorting into Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall continues down the list. The chatter diminishes once more as the students realize another Potter is yet to be sorted.
"Potter, Eleanor," Professor McGonagall calls out next, her voice cutting through the murmurs of the hall with clear precision.
A girl, not far from Harry in age, with the same jet-black hair and bright green eyes that speak of their shared lineage, steps forward. The resemblance between her and Harry is unmistakable, and a hush falls over the room, filled with curiosity and wonder. Eleanor Potter's walk to the stool is one of determination, though her eyes scan the room, briefly locking with Harry's, seeking reassurance. Finding it, her step steadies as she takes her seat and the Sorting Hat is placed upon her head.
The hall watches in rapt attention, the Sorting Hat taking its time, murmuring into Eleanor's ear, too quiet for the rest to hear. The tension in the room builds, students and professors alike waiting for the Hat's decision. Will the Potters be united under the Gryffindor banner, or will the Hat see a different path for Eleanor?
Finally, the Hat makes its proclamation, its voice ringing out, "GRYFFINDOR!" A wave of applause breaks out, mirroring the cheer that greeted her brother. Eleanor's face breaks into a wide smile as she makes her way to the Gryffindor table, greeted warmly by her new housemates, including her brother, who looks immensely relieved and proud.
The sorting of the Potter siblings into Gryffindor is a moment of note, sparking whispers and excited conversation amongst the students. It's not just the fame that surrounds Harry that makes this significant, but the addition of Eleanor adds a new dimension to the legacy they carry into Hogwarts.
After the excitement of the Potter siblings' sorting, the atmosphere in the Great Hall remained charged with anticipation. Whispers and speculative glances were exchanged, not just about Harry and Eleanor Potter, but about each new student and where they might find their place within the storied halls of Hogwarts.
"Seraphina, Apollyon," Professor McGonagall called out, her voice cutting through the buzz of conversation, bringing a sudden focus to Apollyon. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Apollyon stepped forward, feeling the weight of the room's attention settle upon her. She made her way to the stool, her heart pounding in her chest, a mix of nervousness and excitement coursing through her veins. She could feel the curious gazes of her fellow students, the air thick with anticipation.
As she sat, the Sorting Hat was gently placed upon her head, its brim falling over her eyes, casting her into darkness. The hall around her fell away, and she was left alone with the voice of the Sorting Hat in her mind. It was a curious sensation, feeling as though the hat was sifting through her thoughts, her memories, her very essence.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone