The Mentor (Eng)

Chapter VII: The Sorting Ceremony

The castle stood majestically in the distance, a fortress of ancient stone that seemed to whisper stories of magic and mystery. Hogwarts, with its towers rising into the night sky, looked like a benevolent giant that held ancient secrets within its walls. Loraine, eyes dazzled and heart pounding, gazed at the scene, completely captivated by the unearthly beauty unfolding before her. Professor Fig watched her with a barely perceptible smile. Delighting in her adorable fascination.

—Fascinating, isn't it? —Professor Fig's voice broke the silence, with his characteristic warm tone—. It's something you never get used to, no matter how many years you spend in this place.

Loraine, her throat tight with excitement, nodded, unable to articulate a word. She was eager to discover every hidden secret, every passageway and enchantment Hogwarts held. That night, however, the Sorting ceremony hung over her like a cloak of responsibility and expectation. With every step she took towards her new destination, the knot in her stomach tightened, a reminder of the importance of the moment. Despite the magic that surrounded her, Loraine could not ignore the reality of her situation: Her wound still burned and her outfit was a mess.

They passed through the majestic gate, guarded by two winged boars carved from stone, guardians that seemed to come alive in the twilight. As if watching with granite eyes those who dared to cross the threshold into the castle's domain. The path to the heart of the castle was shrouded in silence. Loraine, her mind buzzing with unanswered questions, followed Fig with a mixture of anxiety and awe. Finally, Fig stopped.

—We'd better go to my office first, —Fig said as his eyes fell on the cut on Loraine's thigh— That wound needs to be treated as soon as possible and, if memory serves, I have some wiggenweld potions.

—But Professor... —Loraine tried to protest, but the word stuck in her throat as they crossed the threshold of the castle. The magnificence of the interior left her speechless; the high vaults, the statues, the living paintings, the dim torchlight dancing on the walls. Everything in the place seemed like something out of a dream. With a determined gesture, she shook her head, trying to clear the haze of wonder, and continued— Professor, I'll be late for the ceremony....

Loraine's preoccupation with time and her unfinished business clashed with Fig's unflappable calm, who seemed to have a plan for every situation, even those as unexpected as this one.

—We still have time —Fig replied reassuringly.

The paintings, with their painted inhabitants, whispered and moved, giving complicit winks to passers-by. Every corner overflowed with magical artefacts that buzzed and crackled. Loraine, her eyes dazzled by the beauty around her, tried to keep up with Fig. The silence was profound, broken only by the murmur of her own thoughts. 'They must all be at the Sorting ceremony...', Loraine thought, her mind buzzing with the anticipation of what was to come. The solitude of the corridors was but the calm before the storm of emotions that would be unleashed on the most important night of her life.

At the end of a long corridor, adorned with tapestries recounting the exploits of wizards and witches of old, Fig and Loraine reached the carved wooden door that guarded the entrance to the Magical Theory classroom. This was the room where their mentor taught. A spontaneous smile broke out on Loraine's face as she imagined him standing in front of it, teaching students.

Fig's office was a true reflection of his mind: a wonderfully structured chaos, where every scroll and artefact seemed to have a life of its own. Despite the apparent disorder, there was something about the place that made it extraordinarily welcoming. The fireplace, with its dancing fire, seemed to come alive as it sensed the arrival of visitors, radiating a warmth that invited reflection and study. In front of it, two leather armchairs faced each other, one of them almost hidden under a mountain of books and scrolls that seemed to have been recently consulted.