The old Sorting Hat’s words made Harry’s heart tighten.
Uh-oh, was he discovered?
“Really?” Harry feigned calmness and asked, neither confirming nor denying anything.
“Yes, the Sorting Hat never makes mistakes,” the hat affirmed confidently. “I remember you. Last time I sorted you, I even advised you to join Slytherin, but you insisted on Gryffindor.”
If nothing else had happened, Harry honestly wouldn’t have minded going to Slytherin.
But when he was applying for a scholarship, he had spent a moment alone with Phineas Nigellus Black.
Afterward, he asked Deputy Headmistress Weasley which house Headmaster Black had been in.
Upon hearing the answer, “Slytherin,” Harry’s determination had solidified.
Even if I drop out, I won’t go to Slytherin!
“So, this time, will you still advise me to join Slytherin?” Harry asked in return.
“I wouldn’t think someone daring enough to use Polyjuice Potion to impersonate the Headmaster would be a Slytherin. Oh, heavens, you should’ve seen Phineas’ face—it was priceless,” the Sorting Hat said with glee. “You even made the Great Hall permanently display Gryffindor’s banners, though Phineas quickly revoked that order.”
Suddenly, the hat seemed to realize something mid-sentence.
“Wow, time really is a magical thing. I never thought I’d see you back at age eleven. But don’t worry; the Sorting Hat keeps its secrets.”
“Really?” Harry was skeptical.
“Absolutely! Since my creation, I’ve never revealed any student’s secrets,” the hat vowed. “Not even that troublesome one who gave Albus such headaches.”
Harry was willing to trust the hat’s professionalism. After all, if the hat leaked secrets, there wouldn’t have been a Voldemort.
“So, which house will you recommend this time?” Harry asked in his mind.
“No one betrays their own house, do they?” The hat chuckled. “Without a doubt, you belong in Gryffindor.”
“Then what are you waiting for? Announce it. I’m ready,” Harry said impatiently. The attention from all around made him a bit uncomfortable.
Though the Sorting Hat communicated mentally, Harry still found it unsettling.
“This is heartbreaking, kiddo,” the hat complained. “Old friends should catch up, but you can’t wait to get rid of me. It’s truly disheartening.”
“You have a heart?” Harry asked in surprise.
“I think I’ve changed my mind. You should go to Azkaban,” the hat replied with a hint of mock indignation.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean it that way,” Harry quickly apologized. He didn’t want to be sent straight to Azkaban.
Then he asked, “By the way, when did this Headmaster join Hogwarts? Why don’t I remember him?”
“The Headmaster?” The hat thought for a moment and then replied, “If I recall correctly, he entered in your seventh year. Phineas said you were missing, so it makes sense you wouldn’t know him. How does it feel to see a junior become Headmaster?”
“It’s a bit surreal,” Harry admitted. “But since I never met him as a kid, it doesn’t feel too odd.”
“Ha! You should’ve seen young Albus,” the hat said slyly.
“Oh? Which house was he in?” Harry asked.
“Without a doubt, Gryffindor,” the Sorting Hat said proudly.
Harry nodded knowingly and spent a long time reminiscing with the Sorting Hat.
Finally, the hat, seemingly content, said, “Catching up with an old friend is delightful. As a token of appreciation, the hat has prepared a special sorting ceremony for you.”
“What is it?” Harry asked curiously.
The hat didn’t answer. Just as Harry thought it was preparing for a dramatic announcement, he felt something hard hit his head.
He removed the hat and saw a hilt inside. Intrigued, he grasped the hilt and, with a clang, pulled out a magnificent silver sword.
At the same time, the Sorting Hat shouted triumphantly, “Without a doubt! Gryffindor!”
The Great Hall fell silent. Then, after a moment, three of the four house tables erupted into thunderous applause, excluding Slytherin.
“We got Potter! We got Potter!” the Weasley twins stood on their seats, waving their arms in excitement.
Harry turned to the teacher’s table. Hagrid clapped enthusiastically, barely containing his excitement. Dumbledore nodded at him with a smile, offering his applause. Meanwhile, the greasy-haired professor looked as though he couldn’t stand him.
Beside him, Professor McGonagall folded her hands, clearly pleased that Harry had been sorted into Gryffindor.
“Professor, what about this?” Harry asked, holding the Sorting Hat in one hand and the Gryffindor sword in the other.
“I’ll handle it, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said as she took the items from him and approached Dumbledore to hand him the sword.
“I never expected you’d arrange such a sorting ritual, Albus,” she whispered.
Dumbledore looked momentarily confused. “Ah?”
Then he understood what she meant and replied just as softly, “No, Minerva, you’ll see later. The Headmaster has no authority to interfere with sorting, much less command the hat.”
McGonagall gave him a doubtful look but chose to believe him.
As Harry walked to the Gryffindor table, the Gryffindors stood up to offer their most heartfelt congratulations.
He sat next to Hermione on his left. On his right was a boy wearing glasses who looked scholarly.
“Percy. Percy Weasley,” the boy introduced himself, extending a hand.
Harry shook it, recognizing him as Ron’s prefect brother.
“You’re Ron brother, right?” Harry asked politely, recalling Ron’s mention of him.
“Exactly,” Percy said proudly.
Just then, McGonagall called out Ron’s name.
“That’s my youngest brother,” Percy whispered to Harry.
“Gryffindor!” the Sorting Hat declared.
Ron slumped into the seat Harry and Hermione had saved for him.
“Well done, Ron, well done!” Percy said in an exaggerated tone.
“I was so scared I’d end up in Slytherin,” Ron admitted, still shaking off the nerves.
Harry grinned and said, “Then Slytherin would’ve gained an exceptional wizard.”
“Ugh, shut it, Harry. You sound like my mum,” Ron retorted, rolling his eyes.
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