An Ancient Legacy || HOGWARTS LEGACY

#2: The Sorting Ceremony

PIPPA'S POV

Adventure had never been Pippa's strong suit, although she was hopelessly in love with the idea of it. Going to Hogwarts was meant to be her own mini adventure, like the ones her sister, Eleanor, would tell her as a kid. Funny anecdotes and good grades and interesting portraits had been the most of what she was expecting.

It seemed that none of that was going to happen anytime soon.

Somewhere in between helping Professor Fig load the bags, nearly getting scorched by a dragon and tumbling through the air to her death, Pippa had lost the romantic light she had painted Hogwarts in. Now, all she wanted to do was to go to sleep.

But there was no time for that at all. Pippa glanced up as the large oak doors slowly creaked open to reveal a man with dark hair and a seemingly permanent look of distaste. He had a beard and moustache, though they were both short and looked like they were taken care of. Even without asking, Pippa could take a stab in the dark at who this was.

Professor Phineas Nigellus Black.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts. And he did not look happy at all.

"Fig," His voice was cool, and Pippa noticed Artemis' stiffen from the corner of her eye, "Nice of you to join us."

"There were some, uh, complications," Fig answered. It sounded like he was going to continue before Professor Black spoke over him furiously.

"Complications?"

Professor Fig cleared his throat, "Phineas, it seems that the goblin problem has-"

Professor Black scoffed, looking heavenward as if he were pleading for some god to give him strength, "Enough. Goblins," he let out a dry chuckle, "I've no time for rumours, Fig, and I'm rapidly losing whatever patience I had left!"

He enunciated every letter as if they all held their own significance. Pippa had noted this type of accent in the others Blacks she had briefly encountered at her family parties. There were never many of them, but the Finches had a large family tree that intertwined with the Blacks sometimes. Pippa shuddered as she thought about the fact that Professor Black could be her fifth cousin thrice removed.

Fig looked at Black imploringly for a moment, and eventually, the headmaster gave a long sigh, "Go wait in my office, Fig. I'll be there soon." He turned towards the pupils, "You better hurry, all of you, or else you'll miss your sorting. And fix your hair, for god's sake," he added, glancing at Michael, who didn't make a single move to do anything of the sort.

"Your hair's fine," Pippa mouthed over to Michael, who gave her a short grin.

"I know," he mouthed back.

Fig hesitated for a moment before glancing in between the four students. "I'll be in touch," he said finally, before disappearing off somewhere.

Pippa wanted to yell for him to come back and help them, but Professor Black was already leading them through the oak doors into the Great Hall. There was a long line of small, young first years waiting to be sorted, and as Pippa and the others stood behind them, waiting patiently, she couldn't help but feel out of place, like giraffes in ballerina costumes. Reid's height difference with some of the shorter 11 year olds was certainly humorous though, and Pippa had to crack a small smile at that, nudging him.

Reid rolled his eyes, a small smile tugging at his lips as though he knew what she was going to comment on. Pippa herself had a few inches to grow to be as tall as him, annoyingly, and so she stood on her toes, trying to match his height. At this, Reid raised an eyebrow with amusement.