As Professor McGonagall called out, "Hannah Abbott," Ciel watched the small, nervous girl stumble toward the Sorting Hat. He let out a quiet sigh. The ceremony had officially begun. He wondered which House he would be sorted into... and then, a faint, knowing smile touched his lips.
As if he didn't already know.
The Sprout family had a long and storied tradition of being sorted into Hufflepuff. And his aunt, Professor Sprout, was the current Head of that very House. It would be more shocking if he wasn't sorted into Hufflepuff.
He had no particular attachment to Gryffindor or Slytherin, nor did he see Ravenclaw as inherently superior. Anyone who had been to university knew that the school was secondary; the major was what truly mattered. And at Hogwarts, Herbology was Hufflepuff's star program. The vast majority of Herbology Masters in the British wizarding world were Hufflepuff alumni. The best greenhouses in the entire wizarding world were overseen by a Hufflepuff—and that Hufflepuff was his aunt.
Even if the Sorting Hat saw potential for him elsewhere, he wouldn't consider it.
So, while the other first-years fidgeted nervously, Ciel was the picture of calm. He even took the opportunity to continue tending to his Goldfish Vines, his head bowed over the small pots as he worked.
The moment the brim of the Sorting Hat touched Hannah Abbott's hair, it shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
The long table on the right erupted in applause. Neville, standing next to Ciel, murmured, "I think I just saw a kindred spirit."
Ciel's expression was unreadable. More than a kindred spirit, he thought. In the original story, Neville ended up marrying Hannah Abbott. Some destinies, it seemed, were set from the very beginning.
Watching Hannah's retreating figure, Ciel felt a flicker of something akin to fervent interest. Not for the girl herself, of course—he had no intention of interfering with his cousin's future wife—but for her potential as a Goldfish Vine cultivator. She and Neville could be the twin pillars of his new enterprise. In fact, most Hufflepuffs, with their reputation for being a bit clumsy and forgetful, would probably make excellent gardeners for his project.
Then, a new thought struck him, and his heart sank slightly. Too many gardeners, not enough Goldfish Vines. I need to plant more.
He immediately got back to work, his hands moving with renewed purpose.
[You have successfully planted a Goldfish Vine]
[Reward Available: Magical Perception (Extremely Slight Increase - Gestating)]
The other students were too caught up in their own anxiety to notice Ciel's strange behavior. The professors at the high table, however, had a perfect view. Guessing where each student would be sorted was one of their favourite annual pastimes, a nostalgic trip back to their own youth. But Ciel's intense focus on his potted plants was something none of them had ever seen before.
"Is that the Sprout boy?" one of them whispered. "What is he doing? He's not even watching the ceremony."
Professor Sprout, however, held her head high, her expression full of pride. "That's my Ciel," she declared. "He will become the greatest Herbology Master in history."
The other professors, accustomed to her usually modest demeanour, were taken aback by her bold proclamation. But they were fond of her, and even the habitually sharp-tongued Snape, who owed her a great many favours, held his peace.
"Pomona," Dumbledore finally said, his eyes twinkling, "you've been talking for quite a while now. Aren't you thirsty?"
The professors were about to breathe a collective sigh of relief when Professor Sprout enthusiastically replied, "Not at all, Headmaster! And speaking of thirst, let me tell you, my Ciel can work for hours in a sweltering greenhouse without a single drop of water. His perseverance, his focus…"
Snape could no longer contain himself. "Pomona," he drawled, "I don't recall you being quite so… verbose."
She just smiled. "If you had a child, you'd be the same."
The words hung in the air, and a sudden, awkward silence fell over the high table. Snape's mouth opened, then closed, his face turning as black as the bottom of a cauldron. Dumbledore's cheerful expression vanished. The other professors, most of whom were also without families of their own, looked down at their plates. Professor Sprout, realising her misstep, began to apologise profusely.
Fortunately, at that moment, a new wave of murmurs and a palpable excitement swept through the Great Hall, breaking the uncomfortable silence. Professor McGonagall's voice, after a brief pause, called out a name that echoed through the hall.
"Harry Potter!"
Ciel finally looked up, his gaze finding the small, thin boy who had just become the center of the wizarding world's attention. He looked just as Ciel remembered from the movies. The sorting would be no different, either. Neville and Hermione had both gone to Gryffindor, just as they were supposed to. Susan Bones had gone to Hufflepuff. The small changes Ciel had brought to this world were not yet enough to alter the grand currents of fate.
And just as he expected, after a long, tense moment of deliberation, the Sorting Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted in a storm of applause that threatened to shake the enchanted ceiling. The next student to be called would have to walk up in the shadow of that monumental sorting, a veritable nobody following the Chosen One.
And the next name was Ciel's.
Professor Sprout's eyes were fixed on him, her expression far more nervous than his own. Ciel just gave her a reassuring smile, walked calmly to the stool, and placed the tattered hat on his head.
A curious voice immediately filled his mind. "Oh. You are the calmest first-year I have ever sorted. The others, no matter how composed they appear, are always a whirlwind of anxiety on the inside. But you… you seem to have no worries at all. How do you manage that?"
Ciel answered honestly. "I believe that you reap what you sow." He paused. "And more importantly, my aunt is the Head of Hufflepuff and a Master of Herbology."
***
(End of Chapter)
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