2025 SORTING CEREMONY
Date: September 1, 2025 | Time: 7:32pm
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Date: September 1, 2025 | Time: 7:32pm
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The Assembly Hall grew more and more lively as students filed in from the Dining Hall. The Deliberation this year had not taken long, a sign that, at least for most of the students, the Founders had little conflict as to who claimed whom.
Lamps burned low along the walls, throwing golden light across the tall wood panels and the polished floor. The four house sections of benches were now crowded with students in their house robes, their full uniform on display to welcome the new students. The faculty gathered at the back of the room, as they always did. While it was the best position to keep an eye on the student body, it had the advantage of allowing professors to chat, doze off, or potentially pay a lost bet as to which house a student would end up in.
At the front of the room, the unsorted students stood on the stage in their plain black Penwick robes, many fidgeting, whispering, clutching sleeves. Nervous eyes darted from the benches to the looming portraits on the stage wall, each founder painted larger than life, wondering which would call their name.
And at the center of the stage stood Rhiannon Pryce.
It was her first Sorting as headmistress, and though she carried herself with practiced calm, she felt the weight of it. The portraits behind her, the sea of students before her, and the knowledge that she had once stood exactly where the unsorted stood now. It was, despite the cliche, truly a magical moment. As the last students took their seats, Rhiannon clapped her hands twice, and a hush fell over the room.
“Welcome to a new year at Penwick,” her voice carried clear, and the hall stilled further. "My name is Headmistress Pryce, and I want to extend a special welcome to those who stand on this stage before us tonight," she gestured to the unsorted students, turning her gaze toward them. "You are about to take your first steps into something incredible. Take in this moment; the anticipation, the nerves, the potential. Because you will only feel this once.” She hesitated just long enough for a smile to soften her features. “As many of you may know, this is also my first year as Headmistress. So in a way, I am standing here with you. We begin this chapter together.”
A ripple of murmurs moved through the students, as Rhiannon's new position was a debated topic. The previous headmaster, Gareth Pryce, who was a beloved headmaster for many decades, was also Rhiannon's father. She had no experience teaching or administering, so her appointment as Headmistress was confusing to many, and seemed a clear nepotistic move to even more. Some students whispered amongst themselves in disdain, while some first-years stood taller in the knowledge that even their headmistress was new to something tonight.
“For you unsorted students, your first step has already begun,” Rhiannon went on. “You each have been interviewed by our own founders, answering one question from each of them. Since then, they have deliberated carefully, and now, the time has come. A founder has claimed each one of you to their house. Those houses are...”
She lifted her hand toward the waiting benches, where the four houses sat in neat, colourful rows.
“House Dranaga," a loud cheer erupted from the Dranaga seating section, "the house of might and leadership."
"House Mercator," another, slightly less enthusiastic cheer, "for the seekers of knowledge near and far."
"House Floranti," Rhiannon now knew to pause for applause from the announced house, "for those who listen and work toward better futures."
"And House Modron," a tepid but genuine cheer, "the house of perseverance and great loyalty.”
Her gaze fell on the unsorted once more. A few shuffled nervously on their feet, others stood rigid and determined. Rhiannon softened her tone. “This is no test,” she said gently. “Nor is your house a prize to be won. You have been seen, been known, been tested by our founders. And tonight, you will be placed among your peers; not as strangers, but as part of a family that will shape you as much as you shape them.”
The founders' portraits behind her stirred, as though restless with the weight of what was to come. The air itself seemed to still, waiting.
“And so,” Rhiannon concluded, her voice ringing across the hall, “let us begin.”
The silence that followed was deep and complete. Then, the first painted founder cleared their throat, and the Sorting Ceremony began.
Lamps burned low along the walls, throwing golden light across the tall wood panels and the polished floor. The four house sections of benches were now crowded with students in their house robes, their full uniform on display to welcome the new students. The faculty gathered at the back of the room, as they always did. While it was the best position to keep an eye on the student body, it had the advantage of allowing professors to chat, doze off, or potentially pay a lost bet as to which house a student would end up in.
At the front of the room, the unsorted students stood on the stage in their plain black Penwick robes, many fidgeting, whispering, clutching sleeves. Nervous eyes darted from the benches to the looming portraits on the stage wall, each founder painted larger than life, wondering which would call their name.
And at the center of the stage stood Rhiannon Pryce.
It was her first Sorting as headmistress, and though she carried herself with practiced calm, she felt the weight of it. The portraits behind her, the sea of students before her, and the knowledge that she had once stood exactly where the unsorted stood now. It was, despite the cliche, truly a magical moment. As the last students took their seats, Rhiannon clapped her hands twice, and a hush fell over the room.
“Welcome to a new year at Penwick,” her voice carried clear, and the hall stilled further. "My name is Headmistress Pryce, and I want to extend a special welcome to those who stand on this stage before us tonight," she gestured to the unsorted students, turning her gaze toward them. "You are about to take your first steps into something incredible. Take in this moment; the anticipation, the nerves, the potential. Because you will only feel this once.” She hesitated just long enough for a smile to soften her features. “As many of you may know, this is also my first year as Headmistress. So in a way, I am standing here with you. We begin this chapter together.”
A ripple of murmurs moved through the students, as Rhiannon's new position was a debated topic. The previous headmaster, Gareth Pryce, who was a beloved headmaster for many decades, was also Rhiannon's father. She had no experience teaching or administering, so her appointment as Headmistress was confusing to many, and seemed a clear nepotistic move to even more. Some students whispered amongst themselves in disdain, while some first-years stood taller in the knowledge that even their headmistress was new to something tonight.
“For you unsorted students, your first step has already begun,” Rhiannon went on. “You each have been interviewed by our own founders, answering one question from each of them. Since then, they have deliberated carefully, and now, the time has come. A founder has claimed each one of you to their house. Those houses are...”
She lifted her hand toward the waiting benches, where the four houses sat in neat, colourful rows.
“House Dranaga," a loud cheer erupted from the Dranaga seating section, "the house of might and leadership."
"House Mercator," another, slightly less enthusiastic cheer, "for the seekers of knowledge near and far."
"House Floranti," Rhiannon now knew to pause for applause from the announced house, "for those who listen and work toward better futures."
"And House Modron," a tepid but genuine cheer, "the house of perseverance and great loyalty.”
Her gaze fell on the unsorted once more. A few shuffled nervously on their feet, others stood rigid and determined. Rhiannon softened her tone. “This is no test,” she said gently. “Nor is your house a prize to be won. You have been seen, been known, been tested by our founders. And tonight, you will be placed among your peers; not as strangers, but as part of a family that will shape you as much as you shape them.”
The founders' portraits behind her stirred, as though restless with the weight of what was to come. The air itself seemed to still, waiting.
“And so,” Rhiannon concluded, her voice ringing across the hall, “let us begin.”
The silence that followed was deep and complete. Then, the first painted founder cleared their throat, and the Sorting Ceremony began.
The Sorting Ceremony has begun!
Here are a few guidelines for posting in this thread:
- All students are welcome to post, whether an incoming or already sorted student.
- The founders take turns calling out the first and last name of a student, claiming them into their own house. That house usually cheers in response, and the newly sorted student will step forward, have their robe colours changed by Headmistress Pryce, and then join their peers in the benches.
- The entire ceremony lasts no more than an hour.
- Students being sorted are welcome to lightly godmod Headmistress Pryce, saying she gave you a smile, a wink if you were sorted into Floranti, or a small word of encouragement.
