When Professor McGonagall called out, "Hannah Abbott!" Char watched as the nervous little girl stumbled up to the Sorting Hat. He couldn't help but smile to himself. The so-called "Iron Hat Queen" had returned to Hogwarts, and the Sorting Ceremony was officially underway.
Char glanced around at his fellow first-years, all of them fidgeting with nerves. He was probably the calmest student in the hall. After all, with the Sprout family's long tradition of Hufflepuff House, and his aunt as the Head of Hufflepuff, it would be stranger if he didn't end up there.
He thought back to his previous life, where people obsessed over which university or major they'd get into. But here, he knew what mattered most: professionalism and passion. Herbology was the pride of Hufflepuff, and nearly all the great Herbologists in Britain came from the Badger House. The best greenhouse in the wizarding world belonged to Hufflepuff—and his aunt was in charge. For Char, there was no contest. Even if the Sorting Hat suggested another house, he wouldn't consider it.
As the Sorting Ceremony continued, Char found himself absentmindedly planting Goldfish Vine in tiny pots, his hands moving with practiced ease. Lines of magical text appeared before his eyes:
[You have successfully planted Chlorophytum comosum]
[Reward: Slightly improved magic perception ability (incubation)]
[...]
He smiled and sped up his work, barely glancing up as the Sorting Hat called out names and the hall erupted in applause or groans. The other students were too preoccupied with their nerves to notice, but the professors seated at the staff table saw everything.
Every year, the faculty enjoyed guessing which house each new student would join. Watching the anxious faces of the first-years brought back memories of their own school days. But this year, Char was the picture of calm, focused entirely on his plants, not even looking up at the ceremony.
The professors exchanged surprised glances.
"Is that the Sprout boy?" one whispered.
"What is he doing down there?"
"He's not even watching the Sorting!"
Professor Sprout, however, sat tall and proud. "That's my nephew," she said, beaming. "He'll be the greatest Herbologist ever."
It was rare for the usually modest Professor Sprout to make such a bold claim, but none of the other professors challenged her. Even Snape, who owed her more than a few favors, refrained from his usual snark.
But soon, the staff couldn't help but chuckle. Dumbledore leaned over to Professor Sprout, twinkle in his eye.
"Pomona, you've been singing his praises for quite a while now. Aren't you thirsty?"
Professor Sprout shook her head, smiling. "Not at all, Headmaster! Speaking of thirst, let me tell you—my Char can work for hours in a sweltering greenhouse without food or drink. Such dedication…"
Snape finally broke his silence. "Pomona, you never used to talk this much."
Professor Sprout grinned. "If you had a child, you'd understand."
At that, the table fell silent. Most of the Hogwarts faculty didn't have families or children, and her words hung in the air. Snape's face darkened, and even Dumbledore seemed lost in thought.
Realizing she'd touched a nerve, Professor Sprout quickly apologized. Fortunately, a new wave of excitement swept through the hall as Professor McGonagall called out, "Harry Potter!"
Char looked up just in time to see the thin, bespectacled boy walk nervously to the front. Harry looked just as he did in the movies, and Char felt a strange sense of déjà vu. He knew the outcome wouldn't change—Neville had already gone to Gryffindor, Hermione too, and Susan Bones to Hufflepuff. The story was unfolding just as it had in the books.
After a long, tense moment, the Sorting Hat shouted, "Gryffindor!" The Great Hall exploded with cheers and applause. Even Professor McGonagall struggled to quiet the students, but it was clear that Harry Potter was the star of the show.
The next name called was Char's own. Professor Sprout shot him a look of encouragement, looking more nervous than he felt. Char smiled back, calm as ever, and walked confidently to the stool. He placed the battered Sorting Hat on his head.
Inside his mind, a curious voice spoke.
"Oh, my. You're the calmest first-year I've sorted in ages. Most students, no matter how brave they seem, are nervous inside—wondering which house, what their future holds. But you… you're different. How do you do it?"
Char answered honestly, "I believe you reap what you sow. And, more importantly, my aunt is the Head of Hufflepuff and a Master of Herbology."
He waited, heart steady, for the Sorting Hat's reply—ready to embrace his destiny as a true Hufflepuff, and to begin his magical journey in the house of the Badger.