A few days after her first hit fanfiction, Alphabet Chocolate Alfalfabert Charcoalate has written yet another unrewarded, recreational piece detailing an alternate universe version of the Terrasphere we know and love---published for the world to see. Unlike the other personality, Alfalfabert Charcoalate has decent grammar and, although uncreative, is a better writer than Alphabet Chocolate. Featuring: (PART ONE, COMPLETED) Ivan Carl - Future Curry Chef, Aspiring Death Eater, and Logical Scholarship-Seeker & Pennypincher Sean Poteitoku - The Boy Who Wants To Be A Gryffindor Celestine - A Professor Cain Darlite - The Unholy One Seigi - An Agent of JUSTICE (PART TWO, WIP) Doru - A professional Quidditch Announcer...if only Quidditch was an actual sport (Gobstones was the one true sport) Kepler - The Headmaster of Terrasphere School for Witchcraft and Wizardry Madison Freebird - The Draco Malfoy Expy The sorting hat still on the stool as the Grand Hall hushed to an utter silence. Numb respect fell over the gathered crowd and the tables of children were miraculously calm. A group of first-years, all greenhorned and diminutive even in their own robes, stumbled through the carpeted aisle without much clatter. Then, without a clap of applause but with the acknowledging eyes of both student and teacher, Professor Celestine made her way to the foot of the stool and greeted her attentive audience. "Poteitoku, Sean!" she shouted. "The hat is your turn, do its sorting be success!" - @Sean Poteitoku's Sorting - The Gryffindor Gryffindor. Gryffindor. Gryffindor. Sean Poteitoku's family was notorious for producing the best of the best; the Gryffindor-iest of the Gryffindors. And Sean was determined to fulfill his family's legacy. He'd be the best Gryffindor there ever was, you better believe it! "I'm ready, I'm ready, I'm ready!" Sean grinned, practically bouncing up the steps to meet the hat the best way anyone could---head on and without fear. He was absolutely certain, totally confident, that he'd be in Gryffindor. He'd planned for this his entire life. Fifteen generations so far without a single person in Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin. The odds were in his favor and he knew it. Oh, the things he could do! "Hey there," a voice piped up and he immediately knew what it was. The Sorting Hat. He could barely keep his excitement in check. "Oh this is going to be great!" he grinned, goofy smile practically oozing excitement and hope and optimism. The hat was at a loss on what to do. Well, it's job, obviously. "Sean Poteitoku," it started but before it could continue, Sean interrupted. "Oooh, I know! I'm so excited!" "You are?" the hat questioned, the top tilting to the side in confusion. "Yes! I've been waiting for this since forever! Since I was a kid! It's been my life dream, my ambition, to get to this point, you know! I'd do anything!" he said excitedly. The hat pondered for a bit. "Anything? That's awfully ambitious." Sean grinned. "Yup! I'd do anything for this!" he gestured. And it was there that the hat made its decision. "SLYTHERIN!" it shouted, much to the shock and still confusion of everyone in attendance. Sean, in his seat, paled. He sat there for a few seconds and, when finally forced to move, he made quite the fuss. The hat stared confusedly. Humans, it grumbled. --- The Dark Lord Sean laughed as he stood in the Great Hall. The place where all his hopes and dreams were shattered what seemed to be a million years ago. "DON'T YOU SEE? I'M THE BEST GRYFFINDOR AROUND! ME! LOOK AT ALL I ACCOMPLISHED!" the man cackled insanely, looming over the Sorting Hat with wide eyes and a crooked smile. "LOOK AT ME!" he screamed. The hat looked. And, in a way only a hat can, it smiled. "Look at you. I knew you'd be a great Slytherin," the hat mumbled proudly. Something broke. And then, before anyone could do anything, Dark Lord Sean blasted through the sky and disappeared from sight, propelled by a particularly heavy punch. - @Iván Carl's Sorting - The Guy Who Just Wanted to Sell Curry The words, despite being grammatically incorrect to the point of driving any literate academic to the brink, rang through the crowd and, from his place by his friends (Portia Ahrens and Corvella), a tall boy stumbled. He stunk, the odor spicy and burnt. Perhaps, in the future, he'd be a successful curry chef. The Sorting Hat held its nose as the boy plopped down on the stool, the hat above him. Beads of sweat dripped down and he bit his lip, fists clenched. 'Please be Slytherin, please be Slytherin', he repeated the mantra in his head. Those uptight Ravenclaws and googly-eyed Hufflepuffs were bad enough but the fact that there was a chance he'd be sorted into the house of the braindead Gryffindors frightened him more than it should. His parents were proud, respectable Death Eaters (the fact they were rotting away in Azkaban was something he'd rather not mention). How would he fund his curry business if he didn't have the patronage of the Dark Lord himself? No. He needed to get in Slytherin (if not for house preference, then for his future as a curry chef). "You wanna be Slytherin, huh?" a voice chuckled. Ivan flinched and looked around, searching for the source of the echoing sound in his head. "Above ya, kid," the disembodied voice said. There was nothing but the---oh. The hat. "Took ya long enough! Definitely not a Ravenclaw, then!" Despite that being quite beneficial to him, he couldn't help but feel a bit insulted. "Wait, wait, wait!" he frowned, crossing his arms. "I'm not an idiot!" he hissed. A small part of himself told him to shut up, to be quiet, to stop insisting when this was going in his favor. He squashed this part of himself. He needed that Curry Restaurant scholarship, dammit! "You're not?" the hat sounded skeptical. Ivan resisted the urge to facepalm. "I'm not," he said the words with such finality that even the hat found itself momentarily convinced. "Well, if you say so. RAVENCLAW!" the sound of a thousand clapping hands snapped Ivan out of the brief argument and he stared at the Great Hall in horror as the Ravenclaws all stood up, waving their pasty blue ties and sleazy arms in the air. By the year's end, Ivan Carl would get every single one of them hooked to the point of dependency on his delicious curry and, by the decade's end, he'd have an army of curry-addicts to fulfill his ambitions of being the Curry Dark Lord who'd bring curry to all corners of the Earth. --- "Who wants curry?!" Ivan shouted to the crowd around the stadium, all drooling and craving. "ME!" cried every one of the voices. Ivan smiled and, with a pleased laugh, tossed another spoonful of curry to the ravenous crowd. Life was good. - @Cain Darlite's Sorting - The Best Support NA "Neat," Cain said with an easy smile, eyeing the hat with a hint of amusement. Magic was...odd, to say the least. Being a Muggleborn had certainly led him to be sensitive to all these new discoveries, one of which being that the hat was apparently telepathic. It had a rip that it could shout through, yes, but it was obvious observing Ivan Carl's features that that was not all there was to the peculiar cap. He sauntered over, making sure to flaunt his gold-rimmed attire (he managed to charm a few ladies with his wiles in return for a decent set of clothes and a few Galleons earlier), and swayed his hips just right to wrangle out a few gasps from the crowd, female and male alike. His L'Oreal-worthy hair flew with a sudden draft and, bending over to sit on the stool, he made sure to show his toes. All meticulously pedicured and gorgeous. Yup, he was the most fabulous wizard to ever grace the wizarding world and he knew it. He preened from the attention as the cap was placed on his head. "Hey there," he said calmly, just a whisper under his breath. "Oh wow," the voice said and he couldn't help but practically glow in satisfaction. "Not everyday you see a talking hat but it looks like you've never much seen anything like me either." The hat shuffled nervously atop his head. "So, what's going to happen?" he chuckled, genuinely curious. "O-o-oh uh---" the voice stuttered and, feeling pity on the hat, he pointed at the house with golden colors. "Don't worry. I think that house looks awfully nice; the colors would look gorgeous on me, you know?" "HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shrieked as the Hufflepuffs looked nervously at each other. There was a gnawing feeling in their guts and, as the school year went by, every single one of them would find themselves getting swindled out of something or the other. Multiple times. Right now, however, the hat stared at Cain's back as he went down the steps. Love to see you go, hate to see you leave. --- "Don't worry, I'll revive you guys! Go ahead!" came Cain Darlite's voice in the far future as a group of students were gathered in front of the Forbidden Forest. He didn't, in fact, revive them. - @Seigi's Sorting - The One That Should Be Obvious "Justice," she said. Again. For the umpteenth time. The hat sighed. "I know, I know. I'm just wondering, is there anything else about you I can judge upon?" it asked wearily. This sorting has been the longest yet and it wasn't sure how much longer its infinite patience could last. "Justice," she said again, as if that explained everything. And the hat tried. It dug deep in her thoughts, through every layer like an onion peel. But there was nothing else there. Justicejusticejusticejusticejustice seemed to be the thought process of this inhuman girl. The hat sighed. "JUSTICE!" it screamed. Everyone stared. The hat was irritated. Did he really have to explain everything he did to these idiots? "Her house. It's Justice." And it was. For the first and last time ever, Terrasphere School for Witchcraft and Wizardry gained a new house: Justice. And its sole occupant was all for it. --- "DON'T YOU SEE? I'M THE BEST GRYFFINDOR AROUND! ME! LOOK AT ALL I ACCOMPLISHED!" Seigi didn't care much about anything. Justice was absolute. Justice was grand. Justice was life. As she punched the Dark Lord Sean in the face, the only reason she needed was: "JUSTICE!" And it was delivered.
