The silhouette of the castle grew larger with every passing moment. Towers rose into the sky, windows glowing with warm golden light. Unlike the ruins Cain had wandered through in Elden Ring, this fortress was not a tomb.
It was alive.
The boats reached the underground harbor—a cavern carved beneath the castle, lanterns lining the stone walls and casting rippling reflections across the water. The students climbed out, their voices echoing softly in the enclosed space.
"Up the stairs, now! Follow me." Hagrid boomed.
The climb was long and steep. Torches flickered along the walls, illuminating nervous faces as they climbed toward the surface. At last, they emerged into the cool night air. The massive oak doors of Hogwarts Castle towered before them.
The doors creaked open, revealing Professor McGonagall. Her square spectacles glinted in the torchlight, her dark hair was arranged in a precise bun, and her emerald robes appeared freshly pressed. She surveyed the gathered students with sharp eyes—though Cain sensed the kindness beneath her stern exterior.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she announced, her voice clear and commanding. "Your magical education begins tonight. You are about to be sorted into your Houses."
Her gaze swept over the group and lingered briefly on Cain.
"There are four Houses at Hogwarts, each with its own noble history and traditions."
"Gryffindor values courage, bravery, and chivalry.
Hufflepuff values loyalty, patience, and hard work.
Ravenclaw prizes intelligence, wit, and wisdom.
And Slytherin values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness."
Cain listened carefully. Each House sounded like a path—a destiny. He wondered which one the Sorting Hat would choose. Courage? Intelligence? Ambition? He had lived all of them, in different ways.
"Your House will be your family within Hogwarts," McGonagall continued. "You will live, study, and grow together. Achievements will earn your House points; rule-breaking will cost them. At the end of the year, the House with the most points will receive the House Cup."
Cain glanced at Draco, who looked smug at the mention of Slytherin. Crabbe and Goyle nodded eagerly. Across the crowd, Harry, Ron and several others whispered anxiously. Cain felt strangely detached—not nervous. He had faced horrors beyond imagination. But he was curious.
How would this world judge him?
"The Sorting Ceremony will begin shortly. Please wait here until I return."
With that, McGonagall turned and disappeared into the castle.
The students shifted restlessly, murmuring to one another. A sudden chill swept through the hall as ghosts drifted through the wall.
Translucent figures, glowing faintly in the torchlight.
One was a round, cheerful friar. Another, a tall woman in long robes with a severe expression. A knight in armor floated by, his head dangling loosely from his nearly severed neck.
The first-years gasped.
"First-years, eh?" the Fat Friar said brightly, moving closer. "Hufflepuff would welcome you all, of course. We're the most inclusive House!"
Draco sneered softly under his breath, but Cain ignored him. He watched the ghosts with quiet fascination. Their presence felt intertwined with the castle itself.
Nearly Headless Nick swooped into a bow. "Welcome, welcome! I do hope some of you will join Gryffindor. We're in need of fresh faces."
The Grey Lady drifted past without a word. Her cold, piercing gaze lingered on Cain for a moment—long enough to unsettle him, before she glided away.
The ghosts continued chatting, offering encouragement and sly remarks about the Houses. Cain found the encounter oddly comforting. Hogwarts might be haunted, but its ghosts felt more like guardiansâ€"echoes of the past watching over the future.
As the ghosts faded away, Professor McGonagall returned.
"Follow me," she instructed crisply.
The first-years fell into an uneasy line behind her, their footsteps echoing through stone corridors. The castle hummed with a quiet, living magic.
They stopped before a towering set of double doors bound in iron. McGonagall raised her wand. The doors swung open with a deep groan.
A golden glow spilled out from the chamber beyond—warm and radiant.
Cain froze.
To his eyes alone, it shimmered with the ethereal brilliance of a Site of Grace. A beacon of safety in a hostile world. A place where weary warriors rested.
He blinked hard.
The glow vanished, replaced by ordinary candlelight as Draco tapped his shoulder and muttered something about the hall's grandeur.
Cain exhaled slowly, steadying himself.
---
They stepped inside.
The Great Hall stretched vast and magnificent, its ceiling enchanted to mirror the night sky. Stars glittered above, framed by drifting clouds, while hundreds of floating candles bathed the chamber in soft golden light. Four long tables filled the hall, each crowded with older students in black robes. At the far end, a raised platform held the staff table, where the professors sat.
Cain's eyes swept across the room, absorbing every detail.
McGonagall guided the first-years to the front, where a small wooden stool stood. Upon it rested a tattered, ancient hat. Its brim twitched faintly, as if breathing.
"The Sorting Ceremony will now begin," McGonagall announced.
One by one, names were called. Nervous children stepped forward, sat upon the stool, and the hat was placed on their heads. Each time, the hat whispered unheard words before shouting its decision aloud. Applause erupted from the tables as new students joined their Houses.
At last, McGonagall's voice rang out:
"Cain Riven."
Cain stepped forward. The hall seemed to quiet around him; the flickering candles almost leaned toward him, curious. He sat on the stool, and the Sorting Hat descended onto his head.
A knowing voice filled his mind immediately.
"Ah… interesting. A mind so thoroughly shaped by the will to power."
Cain's breath caught. The voice was not hostile—merely probing, peeling back the layers of him.
"And the courage—remarkable. Fierce, stubborn defiance. Gryffindor calls to you, yes, quite clearly! The courage of a warrior, a champion. But yours is not the bravery born of recklessness or glory-seeking. It is a weapon. A tool. A necessity."
Cain's jaw tightened. He knew that truth all too well.
"You fight not for justice, not for noble ideals, but to claim. I see a strategic mind… a calculating mind… one that exploits weakness. And the ambition—oh, it burns bright. The desire to shape the world, to seize the crown, to fulfill a duty no one else could carry."
The Hat's tone sharpened.
"Such will. Such singular focus. Not a seeker of knowledge. Not a keeper of peace. A conqueror. One who moves forward because turning back is unthinkable."
Cain felt the cold weight of the Lands Between pressing against his spine.
"There is only one place for a soul defined by such relentless purpose…"
The Hat's voice thundered in his mind.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The hall erupted in cheers from the Slytherin table.
Draco smirked triumphantly as Cain rose and made his way toward the green-and-silver banners. He slid into the seat beside Draco, who gave him a pleased nod—almost as if Cain's Sorting had confirmed a theory he'd been certain of.
But the Hat's words echoed in Cain's mind.
Not a seeker of knowledge.
Not a keeper of peace.
A conqueror.
The Ceremony continued. More names, more cheers, more nervous laughter. At last, the final student was sorted. McGonagall carried the stool and the Hat away, and the hall fell into an expectant hush.
Albus Dumbledore rose from the staff table. His long silver beard caught the candlelight, and his eyes twinkled with a warmth that Cain found strangely disarming.
"Welcome!" Dumbledore said, his voice gentle yet commanding. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I have a few words to say. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
Laughter rippled through the hall.
Cain blinked, thrown off balance. After the Sorting Hat's heavy pronouncements, the headmaster's nonsense felt almost absurd—but the students seemed delighted, comforted by his eccentricity.
Cain leaned back slightly, studying Dumbledore.
There was power there—immense power—but wrapped in whimsy. A dangerous kind of wisdom.
Dumbledore smiled, arms spreading wide.
"Now—let the feast begin!"