[Open] 2025 Sorting Ceremony

A scuffed and faded plaque by the door indicates that this room was once called the Half-Moon Ballroom, likely in reference to its semi-circle shape, though these days the room is known simply as the Assembly Hall. A large stage stands in the middle of the wood-panelled room along the single straight wall, with a large, ornate portrait of each founder resting prominently, center stage. Four sets of wooden benches curve around it, one section for each house. This room is largely used for the Sorting Ceremony, and as a gathering space for Penwick's theater and debate clubs, respectively, though it is also used for its traditional purpose as a ballroom on occasion, during which the benches are often simply floated up to the ceiling for storage, acting as some of the most peculiar balloons that you've ever seen. Dance lessons are held here biannually for all interested parties third-year and above, with one session in January and one session in May.
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June Selwyn

5th Year Penwick student with a 29.30cm Walnut and Phoenix Feather wand.
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Student, Mercator, Fifth Year

Post by June Selwyn »

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JUNE SELWYN
*:・゚✧*:・゚✧
Date: September 1, 2026 | DM before interacting | Dialogue: X
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The Assembly Hall was nothing like Hogwarts' Great Hall, yet the feeling was remarkably similar.

The waiting. The wondering. The fact that it was taking a painfully long time.

June had been sorted before.

She could remember the day if she thought long enough. Bouncing on her toes with excitement. Watching her train compartment buddy be sorted into Slytherin. Being called stubborn by the sorting hat. Being sorted into Slytherin herself.

June shifted her weight slightly as another student was claimed and sent off toward their house. Cheers erupted from one section of the hall, then another. New friendships began, and old ones were forgotten because of the colour of someone's robe. It was no different than what she'd seen for years.

Still, she would be lying if she said she wasn't excited to see where she'd end up.

Her attention drifted briefly toward the founders' portraits. The interview had been the strangest part of arriving at Penwick. June was somewhat aware of the school's unconventional way of sorting, and yet it was even more unconventional than she had expected.

The founders had not asked what she was good at, nor asked what grades she earned at Hogwarts, or even why a fifth year was starting at Penwick in the first place.

No, their questions were mostly hypothetical, seemingly detached from anything that had to do with academia. Questions that lingered in her mind as she went to supper. Questions she found herself answering differently each time she thought about them.

She found herself not paying particularly close to the ceremony, so she was unsure which founder it was and which section cheered when her name was finally called out.

"June Selwyn."

It was a male voice, so not House Floranti. That made sense, June supposed.

She stepped forward toward the headmistress, glancing toward the portraits to try and ascertain which had called her name. Her eyes caught one of them, and he nodded, as if he had seen her confusion and was coming to her rescue.

"House Mercator!"

The answer felt less like a surprise and more like the final line of a proof she had been working toward without realizing it.

Headmistress Pryce welcomed her forward, and moments later, purple accents spread through her robes. June glanced down briefly as the colours settled into place.

Then she looked toward the Mercator section. Toward her new house. Toward whatever came next.

A small laugh escaped her as she made her way to the benches. She had transferred schools, left behind everything familiar, and somehow ended up exactly where she probably should have been all along.
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Lachlan J Rivers

5th Year Penwick student with a 34.00cm Spruce and Dragon Heartstring wand.
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Student, Mercator, Fifth Year

Post by Lachlan J Rivers »

Lachlan stood among the cluster of unsorted students with his hands buried firmly in his robe pockets. He looked calm enough from a distance... He wasn't. He really wasn't. The younger students around him shifted from foot to foot, whispered anxiously to one another, or stared at the floor like it might offer answers, or swallow them up, if they looked hard enough. Lachlan found himself studying the entire hall instead, including the people in it. There was a boy a few places down who looked moments away from fainting, a girl near the edge of the stage was repeatedly smoothing invisible wrinkles from her sleeves, someone behind him kept bouncing on their heels, and there was a group whispering amongst themselves, seeming to know each other already.

It was strangely comforting.

At least he wasn't the only nervous one, right? Not that he'd admit to being nervous. He was fifteen years old. A transfer student. He was far too old and mature to be intimidated by a room full of strangers. A second after that thought, he rubbed the back of his neck. Right. Very mature, very brave.

His gaze drifted toward the crowded house tables. Students laughed amongst themselves, leaned against one another's shoulders, traded stories from the summer. They already belonged here. They already had places waiting for them.

The thought made something uncomfortable twist in his chest. Lachlan quickly pushed it away. No point getting dramatic. Well. More dramatic than usual. Dad would probably tell him he was being ridiculous. He'd laugh, clap him on the shoulder, and remind him that every person in this room had once been the nervous new kid standing exactly where he was now. Then he'd tell him that if all else failed, he could always accidentally set something on fire and become memorable for entirely different reasons.

The founders loomed behind Headmistress Pryce, their painted eyes seeming to follow the students as names were called. One by one, people left the stage and crossed the hall to cheering houses. Some practically skipped. Others looked like they were walking to their own execution. Lachlan couldn't decide which approach was worse. When a particularly loud cheer erupted from one of the tables, he startled slightly before immediately pretending he hadn't.

Smooth.

Very, very smooth.

The corners of his mouth twitched. If anyone asked, he'd blame the new air. His fingers found the edge of his sleeve and tugged absentmindedly at a loose thread. He tried not to think too hard about where he might end up. The founders had already decided, after all. Whatever happened now was happening whether he liked it or not.

Still.

He found himself glancing toward Mercator more often than the others. Not that he was keeping track. Absolutely not, he was about to keep having a train of thought go down that railroad, and then his name echoed through the hall.

"Lachlan Judas Rivers."

His stomach immediately attempted to relocate itself. For a brief moment he simply blinked. "Oh, brilliant," he muttered under his breath, with a half-forced smile on his face. And then realising he had actually been called and wasn't imagining it, he hurried forward before they could decide to sort somebody else instead, because obviously that was something that happened. The walk across the stage felt far longer than it should have.

As he approached, he offered Headmistress Pryce an awkward smile that looked suspiciously like someone trying very hard not to trip in front of several hundred people. "Mercator," Headmistress Pryce announced as the colours of his robes shifted. Then, a little more quietly, with a small smile, she added, "I think you'll find your people there." For some reason, that did more to settle his nerves than anything else had all evening. Mercator. For a second he just stared. Then a surprised laugh escaped him. Of course it was Mercator. He didn't know whether to feel called out or complimented. Probably both. Yeah, he settled with both. Clutching his wand box against his side, Lachlan turned toward his new house. The applause made his ears burn immediately, but he couldn't quite stop smiling as he made his way toward the Mercator benches.

By the time he sat down, he'd already started wondering who everyone was. Which, in hindsight, was probably exactly why he'd been sorted there in the first place.
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