The Great Hall buzzed with anticipation as we stood near the front, waiting for the Sorting Ceremony to begin. The warm glow of the floating candles illuminated the vast space, and the enchanted ceiling above mirrored the starry night sky outside. I'd seen this moment before in my past life, but experiencing it again—standing here with the weight of a new future hanging in the balance—was something else entirely.
The older students watched us with curious eyes—some whispering quietly, others offering encouraging smiles. The four house tables stretched across the hall, the banners of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin hanging proudly above them.
But all eyes, including ours, were fixed on the ancient, tattered hat perched on a wooden stool at the front of the hall. The Sorting Hat.
"When I call your name," Professor McGonagall's voice echoed across the hall, commanding silence, "step forward, place the hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your house."
The Great Hall fell silent.
All eyes were now locked on the hat. Its frayed fabric and slightly drooping brim gave it a worn, tired look—as though it had seen centuries of students pass through these very halls. But the crease near the brim… that was what made it eerie.
It almost looked like… a mouth.
And then, it moved.
A ripple of whispers echoed through the crowd as the hat twitched slightly, its brim curling.
"Blimey," Ron muttered, his eyes wide with disbelief. "It really talks?"
"Of course it talks," Hermione whispered, her voice tinged with awe, though her earlier nervousness hadn't quite left her eyes.
I stood there, calm on the outside, but inside… I couldn't deny the flicker of anticipation building in my chest.
I knew this moment was coming. I had read all about it in my previous life. Yet, seeing the Sorting Hat in person—feeling the weight of the moment—was something else entirely.
The hat gave a sudden jerk, and then… it began to sing.
**"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart.
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil.
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning
Will always find their kind.
Or perhaps in Slytherin,
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"**
Polite applause filled the hall as the Sorting Hat finished its song. I noticed several older students smiling, clearly familiar with the yearly performance, while the first-years exchanged nervous glances.
Ron leaned closer, his face a little paler than before. "So… all we have to do is put on the hat?"
"Seems like it," I murmured, my eyes flicking toward Professor McGonagall.
"Simple enough," Ron muttered, though his grip on the edge of his robe suggested otherwise.
Hermione, however, was looking more nervous by the second. Her lips moved as she mumbled incantations under her breath again.
"Relax," I whispered softly. "No trolls, remember?"
Hermione gave me a weak smile, but her hands were still fidgeting at her sides.
"When I call your name," Professor McGonagall announced, her voice carrying effortlessly across the hall, "step forward, place the hat on your head, and be sorted into your house."
She lifted the hat and placed it back on the stool.
"Abbot, Hannah!"
A blonde girl with pigtails stepped forward hesitantly, her face flushed. She sat down and placed the hat on her head.
"Hufflepuff!"
The table to the right erupted into cheers, and Hannah rushed off to join them, her face beaming with relief.
"Bones, Susan!"
"Hufflepuff!"
The names continued, one after another, the Sorting Hat placing each student in their respective house with surprising speed.
"Boot, Terry!"
"Ravenclaw!"
"Brown, Lavender!"
"Gryffindor!"
"Bulstrode, Millicent."
"Slytherin!"
I watched as each student made their way up, and the hall slowly filled with applause for every new addition to the houses.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin."
"Hufflepuff!"
"Finnigan, Seamus."
The sandy-haired boy stepped forward and placed the hat on his head. The hat took only a moment before it shouted:
"Gryffindor!"
Seamus let out a relieved breath and gave a lopsided grin as he joined the cheering Gryffindor table.
"Goldstein, Anthony."
"Ravenclaw!"
"Goyle, Gregory."
No surprise there.
"Slytherin!"
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione's face was pale as she stepped forward, her hands clenched tightly by her sides. I could see her mouth moving silently as she whispered to herself.
She placed the hat on her head.
It took a moment.
"Gryffindor!"
Relief flooded Hermione's face as she practically leapt off the stool and rushed to the Gryffindor table. I caught her beaming smile as she sat down, her earlier nerves completely forgotten.
"Longbottom, Neville."
Neville stumbled slightly as he walked up, his round face flushed with nerves. He placed the hat on his head, and for a moment, the hat seemed to hesitate.
Then…
"Gryffindor!"
Neville looked stunned as he removed the hat and hurried to the Gryffindor table, where Hermione was already applauding enthusiastically.
"Malfoy, Draco!"
Malfoy sauntered forward, his usual smug confidence radiating off him in waves.
"Slytherin!"
Of course.
Malfoy didn't even look surprised as he joined the Slytherin table, greeted with polite applause.
"Potter, Rose!"
A hush fell over the hall.
Every head turned as Rose stepped forward. The whispers started immediately.
"Potter?"
"The Girl Who Lived…"
"Is she really…?"
Rose kept her head high, but I could see the slight tension in her shoulders as she approached the stool.
She placed the hat on her head, and for a moment, everything seemed to freeze.
"Hmm…" the hat murmured softly, but we couldn't hear what it was saying to her.
It took longer than most.
Rose's face remained calm, but I could see her eyes darting slightly as if she was having an internal conversation with the hat.
"Gryffindor!"
The Gryffindor table exploded into cheers, far louder than before. It wasn't just excitement—it was pride. The Girl Who Lived, a Gryffindor. It felt… right.
Fred and George Weasley practically jumped onto the benches, whistling and clapping as Rose removed the hat and made her way to the Gryffindor table. She was met with open arms, Hermione scooting over to make room, her smile bright and proud.
"Brilliant, absolutely brilliant!" Fred grinned, giving Rose an enthusiastic thumbs-up.
"Welcome to Gryffindor, Rose," George added, his eyes twinkling.
Rose's cheeks flushed slightly, but she gave them a small smile before sitting down beside Hermione, who was already giving her a rapid rundown of everything Gryffindor-related.
"Carter, Ethan."
My heart thudded harder in my chest.
I took a slow breath, my expression calm as I stepped forward. But deep down, I could feel the weight of this moment.
As I lowered myself onto the stool and placed the Sorting Hat on my head, everything went… quiet.
"Well, well," a deep, ancient voice echoed in my mind. "What do we have here?"
I didn't answer.
"Curious…" the hat murmured. "Very curious indeed… You're not quite what you appear to be, are you?"
My jaw clenched.
"Oh, no need to hide it from me," the hat said with a knowing chuckle. "I see everything. And what I see… is remarkable."
The hat's voice grew softer, almost contemplative.
"I've never encountered anything quite like you," it murmured. "Such power… ancient, divine… It flows through your veins like fire, doesn't it?"
I stayed silent.
"Ah… but it's not just power," the hat continued. "Courage, loyalty, wit… and ambition. All in equal measure."
"Where do you think I belong?" I finally asked, my mental voice steady.
"Where indeed?" the hat mused. "You would do well in any house, you know. Gryffindor for your bravery. Ravenclaw for your mind. Hufflepuff for your loyalty. And Slytherin…"
I felt a cold chill run down my spine.
"Yes… Slytherin," the hat said softly. "You have the cunning, the ambition… and something more. A strength that could shake the very foundations of this world."
I swallowed hard.
"But where would you thrive?" the hat murmured, its tone almost teasing now. "Where will you choose to write your story?"
I felt the weight of the decision pressing down on me.
The Great Hall was utterly silent.
I had been sitting there for what felt like an eternity, the hat still resting on my head.
Students were starting to glance at one another, whispering softly.
"What's taking so long?" Seamus muttered, his brows furrowed.
"Maybe he's broken the hat," Ron mumbled, his voice barely above a whisper.
I barely heard them.
And then, the hat made its decision.
The moment that would shape everything…