Merlin’s Sorting Ceremony
Merlin stood in the back of the pack of first years. The black of their robes blending into an ocean of students, making each indistinguishable from the mass. The thought of finally belonging somewhere was filling the young queer’s mind. Merlin was always the out lyre. In his home town, he was different because of his paganism. In their coven he was the ‘girl who gave up his divine femininity’. In his family he was the only one with true magic. This was the first time he felt like he had a right to be where he was. The first years around him murmured softly, waiting to be addressed. The other students watched them like fish in a bowl. An older woman walked to the center of the raised dais. She set a three legged stool down and gently placed a ragged pointed hat on the seat. Merlin studied the hat. It seemed to have a face within the faded wrinkles. The professor started speaking, but all M could do was focus on the face. It seemed to move, like it was alive. He heard the woman mention the hat. The Sorting Hat, as she had named it. She told the story of how it was made, bits and pieces of the founders. It was wonderful magic. The eyes opened with a jolt and it began to sing. The song equated the Hogwarts houses to siblings. How they may fight, but at the end of the day they were family. They each had merit and flaws. Gryffindor, the arrogant oldest brother who would defend his family till his last breath. Ravenclaw, the intelligent older sister who’s logic makes her seem heartless. Slytherin, the cunning middle child who’s words can excite war and calm storms. And the youngest, naive Hufflepuff who’s gentle nature should not be mistaken for weakness. They would find friendships and form bonds in these new family’s.
The Professor began to call them up, one by one. It called out their house loyalties. He wasn’t sure if they got to choose, or if it was chosen for them. The process seemed rather up in the air to Merlin. Keegan is fairly early in the alphabet, Merlin really didn’t get many examples of the ceremony. His name rang in his ears. Merlin sheepishly made his way from the back. His thin frame gracefully ascended the few steps to the stool. He turned to face the four long tables full of students staring back at him. The hat was dropped on top his dark curly mop and a voice flickered in the back of his mind. It pulled memories and feelings from long ago, fingered through his mind like a filing cabinet. It spoke in his mind, but more to it’s self than to Merlin. ‘You have the courage of a Lion, but there is else something here. Something more. A need to fit in, but won’t tolerate being walked on. I’d say Hufflepuff, but there is a chip on your shoulder my friend. You have a vindictive nature, and the stubbornness to hold a grudge.’ The voice petered off. The voice spoke again, but this time it echoed in the hall. “SLYTHERIN,” It called. The silver and green clad table erupted in applause. The older woman pulled the wise hat from his head and Merlin stood slowly. He briskly made his way to the table who’s welcome had brought the biggest smile to Merlin’s face. A feeling of community washing over him.
