Chapter 6 – The Sorting Begins
Professor McGonagall stood straight at the front of the Great Hall, holding a long parchment in her hand. Her sharp eyes scanned the gathered first years before she cleared her throat.
"When I call your name, please come forward, sit on the stool, and place the Sorting Hat on your head."
The first years went quiet. Some shuffled nervously. A few whispered among themselves.
"Abbott, Hannah!"
A round-faced girl walked up slowly, trembling slightly. The Sorting Hat barely touched her head before shouting, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
The Hufflepuff table cheered as Hannah went to join them.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat declared again after a short pause.
"Boot, Terry!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
"Brown, Lavender!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Student after student was sorted. Some quick, others taking longer as the Hat debated.
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione took a deep breath and marched up to the stool. She placed the Hat on her head, and it dropped low over her eyes.
"Hmmm… clever girl. Very clever indeed. So eager to learn… Ravenclaw would suit you nicely."
Hermione tensed. "I thought I'd be in Gryffindor…"
"You'd do well there too," the Hat murmured. "But your mind longs for knowledge and truth above all. No shame in being where you'll shine brightest."
After a moment's pause, the Hat called out, "RAVENCLAW!"
Hermione looked a little startled, but she gave a small smile and walked confidently to the Ravenclaw table, where polite applause greeted her.
"Longbottom, Neville!"
Neville stumbled up to the stool. The Sorting Hat sat in silence for a few seconds.
"Ahhh, courage… yes, and so much hidden strength. More than you realize, young man. Very well—GRYFFINDOR!"
Neville's face lit up with surprise as he hurried off to join the Gryffindors.
"Malfoy, Draco!"
Draco stepped forward with practiced grace. He put the Hat on, and within seconds it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"
He sauntered to his table proudly.
The names continued one after the other.
"Parkinson, Pansy!" – "SLYTHERIN!"
"Patil, Padma!" – "RAVENCLAW!"
"Patil, Parvati!" – "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Thomas, Dean!" – "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Zabini, Blaise!" – "SLYTHERIN!"
Finally—
"Potter, Harry!"
A heavy silence fell across the hall.
Harry stepped forward, eyes calm, expression unreadable. Whispers erupted around the room. Some students craned their necks to get a better look. Harry Potter—the Boy Who Lived—was finally going to be sorted.
He sat on the stool, and McGonagall gently placed the Sorting Hat on his head.
---
Inside the Sorting Hat
"Well, well… what do we have here?" the Hat mused. "You're different from what I expected. Not the savior type, are you?"
Harry said nothing.
"I see strength… knowledge… restraint. Fiercely protective of the few you care about. Not one to throw yourself at the world's feet."
Still, Harry was quiet.
"You have a powerful mind. Potions, runes, magic both light and dark… you could master them all."
A flicker of interest crossed Harry's thoughts. The Hat chuckled.
"Slytherin would fit… but Ravenclaw is tempting too. Even Hufflepuff—though you'd get bored."
Then Harry's voice rang clear in his mind.
"Put me where I'll become stronger."
The Hat stilled, then gave a thoughtful hum.
"Very well… you'll do well in the house of cunning, ambition, and legacy…"
"SLYTHERIN!"
---
The hall was quiet for a second—then the Slytherin table burst into applause. Draco was grinning. Snape, seated at the staff table, gave a subtle nod.
Harry stood, walked to the Slytherin table, and sat beside Draco.
"Called it," Draco whispered.
Harry just smirked. "Of course you did."
Hermione at the Ravenclaw table looked surprised, but she didn't seem upset. She glanced his way and gave a small nod. Harry returned it.
Dumbledore watched with a soft twinkle in his eyes, though he said nothing.
McGonagall looked thoughtful as she crossed Harry's name off the list.
---
The Feast Begins
Dumbledore stood and raised his arms.
"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. Let the feast… begin!"
The golden plates filled with food in an instant. There were roasted chickens, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pasties, sausages, and rich gravies. Dishes Harry hadn't seen in years.
He quietly filled his plate.
Some Slytherins stole glances at him. Most were trying to figure him out.
Draco leaned over. "They don't know what to make of you."
"Good," Harry said simply.
At the staff table, Professor Snape kept an eye on him. There was no sneer, no contempt—just calm observance. McGonagall whispered something to Professor Flitwick. Across the table, Professor Sprout laughed warmly with Madam Pomfrey. Hagrid, at the far end, gave Harry a grin and a small wave.
Harry returned it.
He didn't feel overwhelmed. He didn't feel excited.
He just felt… ready.