During the summer, when he'd first received his Hogwarts acceptance letter, Wayne had been somewhat wary of the Sorting Hat.
He carried too many secrets—his cheat abilities, his identity as a transmigrator, his knowledge of future events...
Each of these was earth-shattering information.
If anyone discovered them, they'd probably want to dissect him for research.
But as his understanding and mastery of magic grew, along with further analysis, Wayne realised the Sorting Hat wasn't as terrifying as he'd imagined. This hat, imbued with the wisdom of the four founders, possessed the ability to place young wizards in their most suitable house.
But that didn't mean it could read someone's memories.
It could only perceive surface-level thoughts, much like the Legilimency Spell, and detect the standout qualities in young wizards to sort them accordingly.
So after some simple mental diversion training, Wayne stopped worrying about it.
Old Dumbledore was the one who warranted more caution.
If he ever made eye contact with the old bee while thinking about plot-related matters or his system... that would spell real trouble.
'You're not the slightest bit nervous?'
Back in the present, the Sorting Hat was conversing with Wayne telepathically.
In its near-millennium of existence, the hat had encountered all manner of young wizards, but few as composed as Wayne.
'Why should I be nervous?' Wayne countered. 'There are only four options. It's not like you can expel me, can you?'
'Of course not, boy. But I could shout "Azkaban"—I reckon that would have quite the effect. I've heard Dumbledore complain that Azkaban has become an advanced class for Hogwarts. With your talent, going straight there wouldn't be an issue.'
Wayne remained utterly unfazed. 'That's the Ministry of Magic's territory. You don't have the authority.'
Joking aside, if he had possessed SS-tier Dark Magic talent, he might have panicked for a few seconds.
But now?
An A+ in Dark Magic certainly wasn't bad, but it all depended on the comparison.
With his lineup of S-tier talents, Wayne's current aptitude in Dark Magic could practically be called abysmal.
'Hmph.'
Seeing that he hadn't managed to scare Wayne, the Sorting Hat gave a light huff and began its duty, muttering inside Wayne's mind.
'Overflowing with talent—this comfortable feeling reminds me of Dumbledore back in the day. How about Gryffindor?
'Hmm? You don't fancy Gryffindor?
'Hey, kid, show some respect for the house my founder established. Though, admittedly, I'm not too fond of those little lions either—always wanting to give me a wash.
'Then, Slytherin, no doubt you'd reach the pinnacle there. But your ambition... Merlin's saggy pants, how is this your ambition?
'If I sorted you into Slytherin, I'd be hated by the house forever.'
Wayne's face reddened slightly—a rare sight.
His ambition... cough. Best not dwell on that. Strengthening the Lawrence family was his duty!
'Ravenclaw, then! A clever little mind like yours would be welcomed there! And it might even help you achieve your... ambition. Ravenclaw has the most girls, after all.'
Wayne couldn't hold back any longer. 'Old Hat, why aren't you mentioning Hufflepuff?'
The Sorting Hat fell silent.
Perhaps due to Wayne's novel form of address, but more likely because... it was stunned by his sheer lack of self-awareness.
'Wait... Where exactly do you see yourself possessing the qualities Hufflepuff values?'
'What do you mean by that?' Wayne was indignant. 'Which one am I missing?
'Loyalty?
'My underlings are all fiercely loyal to me. Back in primary school, no one dared betray me.'
The Sorting Hat: 'Is that how it works?'
'Kindness?
'I can't even be bothered to step on ants by the roadside.'
'Perseverance?
'I'll always be a LSP (old pervert).'
This last point, Wayne declared with absolute conviction.
The Sorting Hat: '...'
'You really want to go to Hufflepuff?' The Hat was thoroughly bewildered now. Everything Wayne said made a twisted sort of sense, yet was utterly nonsensical.
Fortunately, the witch or wizard's preference carried significant weight in the sorting. So it asked again.
'Definitely. Hurry up. When I have time, I'll bring you a set of Muggle hat-care tools.'
'Deal.' The Sorting Hat perked up at that.
A dirty bargain was struck.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Sorting Hat bellowed.
With that settled, the Great Hall erupted into thunderous applause, offering sincere congratulations.
Except for Hermione. The little witch was somewhat disappointed—she'd rather hoped Wayne would join Ravenclaw so she'd have company in class.
Fifteen whole minutes!
Hogwarts had witnessed another "Hatstall" (a student whose sorting took over five minutes). The entire school would remember the name Wayne Lawrence. Looking back through history, only two other Hatstalls had occurred this century besides Wayne.
One was Peter Pettigrew, the deceased recipient of the Order of Merlin, First Class.
The other was Professor McGonagall, who now stood beside Wayne.
Watching Wayne remove the hat, nod politely to her, and then dash off to the Hufflepuff table, she had considered several possible outcomes. Wayne might have gone to Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or even Slytherin.
But she'd never imagined he'd end up in Hufflepuff.
Calling the next young witch's name, she subtly glanced at the Sorting Hat. Had this hat finally lost its marbles after centuries of service?
"Over here!"
Cedric enthusiastically stood up and waved. Classmates made space for Wayne, and only after he sat did Cedric whisper:
"That was incredible—fifteen minutes! I could barely stand it."
Wayne stared in horror as Cedric rubbed his stomach.
"I'm starving. Your lot took ages."
Oh, that's what he meant. That was a relief.
"How long did yours take?"
"Me? Three seconds flat. Quick, eh?"
"Too quick." Wayne gave a thumbs-up, and Cedric beamed.
The subsequent sortings proceeded smoothly until Harry Potter's appearance caused another uproar in the Great Hall.
When he was sorted into Gryffindor, the Weasley twins and nearby students nearly overturned the table.