The entire hall was silent.
The upper years waited eagerly to see the spectacle unfold, while the first-years anxiously stared at the tattered, filthy hat, as though they expected a giant troll to jump out of it at any moment.
Suddenly, the hat began to move. Its point wobbled left and right, while the brim fluttered up and down, almost as if it were dancing.
But the more Kyle watched, the more something felt off. How to put it? The movements didn't seem right—whoever had designed this routine probably didn't know what they were doing. It looked like some sort of flatfish that enjoys eating its colleagues—though the movements were much stiffer, nowhere near as smooth. And the hat itself was uglier too.
Perhaps the Sorting Hat realized that dancing wasn't its forte, because it soon opened a mouth-like slit and began to hum a tune.
"I am a hat,
But don't judge me by my appearance.
I was born a thousand years ago,
I've witnessed the world change and grow.
I've crossed the wilds and the marshes,
I've walked through forests and by riversides.
Come, wear me,
And I'll find the right house for thee.
If you seek strength, then go to Gryffindor,
They're brave and bold, with courage untold,
They'll draw out the courage buried deep in your soul.
Perhaps you'll end up in Slytherin,
They're strong and calm, with elegance too,
Here, you needn't hide your ambition,
Or your thirst for power,
For everyone here feels the same way.
Hufflepuff is true and loyal,
Tough and honest,
Come here, and you'll find the most trustworthy of friends.
And then there's Ravenclaw,
For those with great wisdom and sharp minds,
Don't hesitate,
There you'll find companions of your kind.
Come, wear me,
Don't worry, don't fear,
I'll show you what your heart truly desires."
The song came to an end, and the hall erupted in applause. It was clear that the young witches and wizards of the magical world were well-mannered.
The Sorting Hat gave a bow to each of the four tables, then fell silent once more.
…
Though the Sorting Hat's song was a bit… difficult to put into words, the first-years had mostly figured out what was going on. The Sorting seemed to be as simple as just putting on the hat.
Many of them breathed a sigh of relief. Compared to the rumors they'd heard, this was nothing at all.
Sure, the hat was a little dirty, a little old, and not very pretty—but who cared? It was only for a moment. It wasn't like they'd have to wear it all the time.
Professor McGonagall quickly stepped forward, holding a piece of parchment in her hand.
"Whenever I call your name, step forward, put on the hat, sit on the stool, and await your sorting."
She glanced at the parchment.
"Thomas Oldbridge."
A blonde boy held his head high and walked briskly to the stool. He put on the hat, and after a moment...
"Ravenclaw!" the Sorting Hat declared loudly.
The boy looked pleased, and after taking off the hat, he eagerly walked over to the Ravenclaw table, where applause broke out from the students.
"Marietta Edgecombe!"
A young girl happily skipped up, grabbed the Sorting Hat, and put it on.
"Ravenclaw!"
"Oh… that's awesome!"
Two Ravenclaws in a row! The little eagles were ecstatic, and the applause grew louder, as though they might lift the roof off the hall.
"Katie Bell!"
This time, it was another girl, who rushed up nervously, nearly throwing the Sorting Hat onto her head.
Perhaps in her nervousness, she had put the hat on too forcefully, and her entire head disappeared inside the hat, leaving only her neck sticking out.
"Hahahahaha!"
A wave of laughter rippled through the hall.
Professor McGonagall sighed and quickly rushed over to help.
"Thanks, Professor McGonagall," the Sorting Hat said, tipping its brim. "I thought I might crack open."
"No doubt about it, Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat called out loudly.
On the far left, the Gryffindor table erupted into cheers! Fred and George even jumped up on their seats, whistling excitedly. It was clear that they were quite fond of this little girl.
Katie Bell's face was bright red as she dashed off to the Gryffindor table.
The Sorting continued, but to avoid further mishaps, Professor McGonagall felt it was better if she handled the next part herself. She stayed by the stool this time, holding the Sorting Hat in one hand and the parchment in the other.
"Cho Chang!"
An Asian girl slowly made her way to the stool and sat down. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat gently on her head.
"Ravenclaw!"
"Oh!!"
With the third Ravenclaw in a row, the little eagles went absolutely wild. Some stood on their seats, jumping around and performing a silly dance. Others grabbed decorative flowers from the table, tossing them into the air with glee.
They completely abandoned their usual composed demeanor and cheered at the top of their lungs.
"Three already! And the Sorting's barely started!"
"Ravenclaw is going to rise this year!"
…
The professors on the stage didn't stop them. They simply watched with smiles until, when the students started throwing plates, Professor McGonagall finally stepped in with a stern expression.
The effect was immediate.
The little eagles froze, as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over them. In an instant, they became as quiet as quails, sitting back down at the table in an orderly fashion.
Professor McGonagall's face softened as she looked back at the parchment.
"Omid Froll!"
…
"Slytherin!"
…
The line of new students grew shorter.
Kyle stood in the crowd, patiently waiting for his name to be called. But for some reason, he couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. It felt like someone was poking him in the back with a needle, a persistent prickling sensation.
He instinctively turned around and found himself face to face with Canna, her face flushed with anger and her eyes narrowed in a glare that could have melted steel.
But this time, it wasn't the same shy girl. No, this time, she looked completely different. Her little white teeth were grinding together, and she looked like she was ready to pounce on him any second.
"Ahem… oh, what a lovely day," Kyle said nervously, forcing a dry laugh, trying to act like he hadn't seen anything, and calmly turning back around.
He took a few subtle steps forward, trying to distance himself from her as much as possible. But unfortunately, the space was so tight that no matter where he moved, Canna could still see him.
That prickle of discomfort never went away.
Thankfully, at that moment, a voice rang out.
"Kyle Jobar!"
For the first time, Kyle thought Professor McGonagall's voice sounded like pure music—like the voice of an angel, as if it were offering him redemption.
Honestly, if he could choose again, he'd definitely vote for McGonagall as headmaster.
(End of Chapter)
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