After Hermione's persuasion, Ron reluctantly decided to stop watching Draco, opting instead to ignore his provocations.
As the tension eased, Ron shifted his attention to chatting with the others about the Sorting Ceremony.
Having worried earlier about being expelled, Ron now found his anxiety settling on the Sorting itself.
He wasn’t alone. Before long, all the young witches and wizards, even those from pureblood families, began to share the same unease. Surprisingly, even Draco Malfoy, usually so smug, looked pale.
“My father… my father said he had to fight a werewolf when he was Sorted…” Draco muttered nervously.
The group exchanged incredulous glances, their faces turning an odd shade of purple as they tried to process this revelation.
The murmurs and whispers filled the air until, suddenly, the Great Hall fell silent.
The change was almost tangible, as though an invisible hand had pressed pause on the entire room.
Professor McGonagall strode to the front, carrying a four-legged stool, which she placed before the gathered first-years. Atop the stool, she set a pointed wizard’s hat that was patched, frayed, and undeniably ancient.
Harry recognized it immediately. It was the Sorting Hat—the very same one he had worn during his first year at Hogwarts.
Then, the hat twitched. Its brim split wide open like a mouth, and it began to sing.
"You may think I’m not much to see,
But don’t judge a book by its cover, my friend.
If you can find a hat more magical than me,
I’ll gladly eat myself in the end.
Your top hats may shine with a polished gleam,
Your silk hats may sit so high and proud,
But I am the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts,
And my wisdom sets me apart from the crowd.
Deep within your mind, your dreams are stored,
And I can see them all with ease.
Place me on your head—don’t be afraid—
I’ll guide you to where your heart agrees.
Perhaps you’ll belong in brave Gryffindor,
Where dwell the daring and the bold.
Their courage and chivalry shine so bright,
Their legends are timelessly told.
Or maybe in kind and loyal Hufflepuff,
Where hard work and honesty reign.
Through toil and care, they light the way,
And their dedication is never in vain.
In wise old Ravenclaw, you may reside,
With wit and wisdom to spare.
They welcome those who love to learn,
And seek knowledge everywhere.
Or perhaps in cunning Slytherin,
Where ambition and resourcefulness rule.
They’ll help you achieve your greatest dreams,
Though slyness may be their most useful tool.
So place me on your head, and don’t you fret—
I’ll find where you belong.
Your secrets are safe with me, dear child,
For I’ve been Sorting for centuries long.
I am the magical Sorting Hat,
A talking hat with a purpose grand.
So let the Sorting now begin—
Welcome to Hogwarts, the finest in the land!"
The Great Hall burst into thunderous applause as the Sorting Hat bowed theatrically to each of the house tables before settling into stillness once again.
“So… we just have to wear the hat?” Ron asked skeptically, wrinkling his nose. “I’m definitely going to kill Fred and George. They told me I’d have to fight a troll! And the worst part is—I actually believed them!”
“And your dad? Didn’t he say you’d have to wrestle a giant spider?” Harry teased, smirking.
Ron froze mid-protest. “Er… well, that’s not… entirely relevant.”
Harry chuckled, satisfied with his successful jab.
At the front of the Hall, Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment in her hand. She picked up the Sorting Hat, which gave a disgruntled huff.
“Handle me gently! I’m old enough without being yanked around !” the hat grumbled.
Laughter rippled through the Hall, but McGonagall ignored the hat’s complaints and began reading from her list.
“When I call your name, step forward, put on the hat, and sit on the stool to be Sorted,” she instructed.
A rosy-cheeked girl with blonde braids stumbled forward, placed the hat on her head, and sat nervously. Moments later, the hat declared, “Hufflepuff!”
The table on the far right erupted into cheers as Hannah joined them. Harry noticed the Fat Friar, Hufflepuff’s house ghost, waving enthusiastically in welcome.
“Susan hurried to sit beside Hannah.”
A round of applause greeted Terry as he joined a group of students who welcomed him warmly.
“Justin Finch-Fletchley!”
“Go on, Hermione,” Ron urged.
Taking a deep breath, Hermione walked to the stool and placed the hat on her head.
“Gryffindor!” the hat announced.
Ron grinned in satisfaction as Hermione hurried to sit at their table.
“Neville Longbottom!”
Neville tripped over his own feet on the way to the stool, earning a few giggles from the crowd. The hat took its time, but eventually declared, “Gryffindor!”
Neville, in his excitement, forgot to take off the hat as he ran back to his seat.
“Oi, boy!” the hat shouted. “I’m not a souvenir!”
The Hall erupted in laughter as Neville turned scarlet, returning the hat sheepishly.
When Malfoy’s name was called, he strutted forward with exaggerated confidence. The hat had barely touched his head before it declared, “Slytherin!”
Malfoy sauntered over to the Slytherin table, looking immensely pleased with himself.
Finally, Professor McGonagall called, “Harry Potter!”
The Hall buzzed with whispers.
“Potter? Did she say Potter?”
“Is it the Harry Potter?”
All eyes turned to him, watching his every move.
Harry walked forward with measured calm, taking the Sorting Hat from McGonagall with both hands. He thanked her politely, earning a small smile in return.
Placing the hat on his head, Harry suddenly heard a familiar voice in his mind.
“Ah, back again? Funny… I could’ve sworn I Sorted you once before…”
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