Caine Hawke's Sorting Ceremony

Head held high, robes too large, Caine stood among his peers - new faces for new things, each one looked surprisingly collected for whatever was going to happen. He felt a little odd that he’d not been prepared - his father had just said he would be sorted and it could go from there. He’d had some information that helped but clearly not enough. He listened to the announcements, looked at the large tables that spanned the entirety of this large room, each one in turn decorated with different colors to represent the teams?

No, his father had said they were houses, but they looked like teams. Fingers trailed along the edge of his sleeve, eyes darting in every direction as the lines moved - one kid to the far left, one to the center. It was a never ending line… until it wasn’t.

He stood at the front of the line, eyes trained on the talking hat that he had most definitely not been prepared for, eyes wide as they shouted his name.

”HAWKE, CAINE!”

Eyes stared ahead but he didn’t move, frozen to the spot. The silence swirled around him, pulling him. A hand on his back. He turned slightly to see the girl he’d met on the train and nodded, stepping forward with a measured pace, breath held as he walked closer to that weird hat.

Weird. Yeah, that was about it.

Cain sat in the chair, looking out at the sea of faces and then up as the professor placed the thing upon his head. He closed his eyes, squeezing them shut with a silent prayer. Friendship. Acceptance. He didn’t want to be lonely. So much rode on his time here, a plea that being here would help. Anything. He’d take anything as long as he could be happy and himself and an asset to his peers! The voice boomed out - an answer to his silent prayers, a direction. A home.