"D'Artagnan, Charles!"
D'Artagnan approached the hat nervously, glanced at Professor Richelieu and, gathering his courage, sat on the stool and put the hat on his head.
What do we have here? Well, well, well, I think it is obvious where I am going to put you. Very courageous indeed, my boy. There is no doubt about it. Yes, it had better be
"Gryffindor!"
D'Artagnan grinned as he slid from the stool and hurried towards the Gryffindor table. Pouring himself some pumpkin juice, he watched as Richelieu called the next student.
"Bonacieux, Constance!" hurried excitedly towards the stool and jammed the hat onto her head.
Ah, a Bonacieux. Constance jumped a little. Your brother was particularly difficult to sort. I was having trouble deciding whether he should go to Gryffindor or Slytherin. Slytherin ultimately won out in the end, as you know. But onto you, my dear. Hmm, I see. Very hard-working; that's always good. And it's nice to be caring and loyal. You're brave, too, I see. Some would say Gryffindor. But I see reliability and trustworthiness. You are constant and steadfast. Firm Hufflepuff qualities. Indeed, I know exactly where to put you.
"Hufflepuff!"
Constance smiled as she went to join her housemates. She wasn't particularly fussed which house she was in, but it was nice to find somewhere she belonged, and when she looked over to the Slytherin table, she was glad to see Jacques cheering for her.
The next student was "Bourbon, Louis!". The headmaster's son was nothing if a little spoiled. He approached the stool elegantly and put the hat upon his head.
Mr. Bourbon. Your father himself was in Gryffindor, although I know I will not be placing you there. Louis scowled. Sorry to disappoint, but neither your loyalty nor fairness match traits of a Gryffindor. Such traits are usually common of a Hufflepuff. You are loyal to your family and your position in the Wizarding world, and you are undeniably fair. These are all Hufflepuff traits, Mr. Bourbon. You would not find a place in Gryffindor.
But I want to be in Gryffindor, he thought crossly.
That may be so, but sometimes we cannot choose our house.
"Hufflepuff!" yelled out the hat before Louis had a chance to argue. Scowling, he stalked over to the Hufflepuff table and sat down. Constance smiled at him and offered him a piece of chicken.
"De la Fère, Olivier!" made his way to the hat and shoved it on his head.
A de la Fère, hmm? Olivier frowned. Your family have made quite a name for themselves, as I'm sure you're aware … Let's see; you're adaptable, level-headed and flexible. Very valuable traits, my boy. Very Slytherin traits.
I'm not Slytherin, Olivier thought quickly.
Not Slytherin? It felt like the hat was laughing at him. Well, you are certainly very bold―a Gryffindor trait if I ever saw one. Bold and somewhat brash, yes, and impulsive at times. But you show your Slytherin side so often …
Please, not Slytherin. He was almost begging. I'm not like them…
No, you're not, agreed the hat. In that case―
"Gryffindor!"
Olivier beamed and went to sit over at the Gryffindor table. Richelieu read off the next name on the list, which happened to be "Feron, Philippe!"
The boy had a wooden stick to help him get across the Great Hall and he settled on the stool and pulled the hat onto his head.
What do we have here, hmm? A Muggle-born … and you were always like this? Always had your stick?
I'm more than my disability, scowled Philippe.
Yes, you are! Eager to prove yourself, I see. A bit of a loner, too. You stand up for what you believe in and will carry it until death. That shows incredible courage. I'm impressed. Gryffindor, I should think. But what do you think?
Philippe didn't know what to think. Why are you asking me?
Because you could be great. Your ambition puts you in contest for Slytherin, but your immense courage could put you in Gryffindor. Either house will bring you greatness, if you put your mind to it.
Gryffindor, thought Philippe quickly. I'd love to be in Gryffindor.
And the hat yelled out his chosen house. Philippe took the hat from his head and ambled towards the table, where two first-years helped him sit comfortably.
And then "Grimaud, Lucien!" was called. He sat down and put the hat on his head.
What's this? Ah, yes. Your first priority is you and those you love. You sacrifice things for your friends and family; the close people in your life. You're guiltlessly selfish ―very Slytherin. There's only one place I can put you ―
"Slytherin!" rang out across the Great Hall and Lucien put the hat back on the stool and sat down at the Slytherin table, satisfied.
"Habsburg, Anne!" called Richelieu. Anne smiled over at the Hufflepuff table, and went to sit at the stool.
Anne Habsburg ―daughter of Philip Habsburg, Minister of Magic? My, my, I remember your father's sorting. He was in Slytherin. Still, I see you are not like him. Fiercely loyal and understanding. You're incredibly fair. However, you are persuasive and adaptable ―you could make a good Ravenclaw. But I don't think that's what you want, is it? That's not what matters. Your friends matter, don't they? In that case, I know exactly where to put you.
"Hufflepuff!"
Anne beamed and hurried over to the Hufflepuff table, joining Louis.
Then "d'Herblay, René!" sat on the stool.
What matters most to you, René? I think I know. You hold your religion very dearly, don't you? René was about to answer, but the hat continued. This is where your sense of right and wrong comes from. A good set of morals. You seem to keep in line with these rules, although when you don't, you're quite chivalrous and impulsive. I could see you in Gryffindor.
Gryffindor? wondered René. He hadn't thought much about Gryffindor. He hadn't focused on any of the houses. He had been much more preoccupied with learning more about the Wizarding world.
But I don't think you'd like it there. I think you'd suit Ravenclaw. Yes, yes … Your morals and the way you regard them would fit just right. Better be―
"Ravenclaw!"
René sat himself down at the Ravenclaw table. There was a buzz of excited chatter and someone said, "Oh, he's Spanish! Did you know there were one-hundred-and-thirty Spanish ships in the Armada?"
Richelieu called "Marcheaux, Georges!" and he put the hat on his head.
Georges Marcheaux? Goodness, I can hardly remember the last time I sorted a Marcheaux. Was it your uncle, Samuel? Yes, it was. He was a Hufflepuff. He became an auror, if the stories are true.
I'd like to be an auror, admitted Georges, shifting nervously on the stool.
Would you? Hmm. Most aurors are either Gryffindor or Slytherin, but I can't see you in either of those houses. That's not to say you won't be one, of course. Just look at your uncle. You have a well-built system, I see. You act very much like a Gryffindor, but I know you're not. You like learning, yes ―but only about things that match your interests. That sounds very Ravenclaw to me. You've read almost every book about Defence Against the Dark Arts, but nothing about Potions or Herbology. Yes, you're definitely a ―
"Ravenclaw!"
Georges immediately took the seat next to René as the next student, "de Rochefort, Henri!" was called.
Rochefort had barely touched the hat to his slicked blond hair when it shrieked, "Slytherin!" and he hurried to join Lucien at the Slytherin table.
The next student was "du Vallon, Porthos!"
I see greatness in you. Brave and bold, and you frequently have the courage to overcome your fears. I see Gryffindor in you, Porthos. But I also see Hufflepuff. You are loyal to the things that matter to you, and you care greatly about people in this world. Kindness and loyalty are two things that define you ―yes, I know just where to put you.
"Hufflepuff!"
And then the final student, "de Winter, Milady!" was called out, and Richelieu rolled up his parchment.
Cunning, sly and adaptable. Just like a true Slytherin. You do things to benefit yourself and yourself only. I don't even need to tell you where you should go. I think you know already.
"Slytherin!"
Milady's face held no emotion as she put the hat back on the stool and sat down at the Slytherin table. She picked a pastry from the middle of the table and began to eat.
And Headmaster Bourbon said a few words, the older students began to eat and the feast truly began, and the first-years began to speak to their housemates. As the night waned on, prefects took the first-years to their dorms and they took to their beds, stuffed and tired, but undoubtedly excited.