A girl with two golden braids darted forward, cheeks flushed as she jammed The Sorting Hat onto her head and tugged it down until the brim covered her eyes.
Wyzett found himself suddenly understanding why The Sorting Hat was so patched and battered. It probably wasn't just for the sake of history—it had clearly survived countless nervous hands tugging and twisting it over the years.
Moments later, the hat split open once more. "Hufflepuff!" it bellowed.
A roar of applause erupted from the table to the right. The cheers were especially enthusiastic. The ghost who had spoken to them earlier—the Fat Friar—popped up above the table, waving his arms in celebration.
Hannah Abbott yanked the hat off and let out a long, shaky breath. She seemed almost too relieved, stumbling dazedly toward her new House table.
"It's really that easy?" Ron grumbled, sneaking a glance over his shoulder. "George is pulling faces at me again—he's doing it on purpose!"
"Susan Bones!"
"Hufflepuff!"
The tension in the room eased. Now, many children were practically bouncing in place, hoping they'd be the next to wear The Sorting Hat. But the sorting went by surname, which meant most of them could only wait, nerves mounting.
Some students barely had the hat touch their heads before it shouted their House. Others, however, sat frozen in silence for ages before the hat finally made up its mind.
Hermione was one of the latter. She perched on the four-legged stool for over four minutes before The Sorting Hat reluctantly called out, "Gryffindor!"
"Oh..." Ron groaned.
Neville also sat for quite a while before the hat finally declared, "Gryffindor!"
"Wyzett Lovegood!"
Wyzett strode forward, calm and collected, and placed The Sorting Hat atop his head.
With the help of Custodis Meditatio (Guardian's Meditation), he could sense dozens of eyes fixed on him. To his left, two girls—Cho Chang and Penelope—watched with keen interest. Nearby, Professor McGonagall leaned forward expectantly, her sharp gaze following every move.
Behind him, two other presences made themselves felt. One was warm and familiar—surely Dumbledore. The other, however, was laced with malice, as if a thief were eyeing a prize. That dark gaze lingered only for a few seconds before vanishing entirely, leaving Wyzett to wonder if he'd imagined it.
"Does it really take this long?" he wondered. More than four minutes had passed, and still The Sorting Hat was silent.
"This Great Hall is truly beautiful—you know, I'm well aware of that," a faint voice murmured, echoing all around him. "It's unusual for a first-year to draw so much attention. Fascinating..."
The voice grew a little weary. "But I must say, you ought to focus on yourself. You're far too exceptional—I'm honestly not sure where to put you..."
"Are you The Sorting Hat?" Wyzett whispered, barely moving his lips.
"Oh! Yes!" The hat's voice brightened. "I can't tell where you want to go. All I can do is follow your thoughts, feel the gazes in this Hall..."
A sudden realization struck Wyzett—it was the effect of Custodis Meditatio! He couldn't help but feel curious. "Mr. Sorting Hat, may I ask—how do you decide which House to assign?"
"A very polite child," the hat replied, sounding pleased. "Have you heard of Legilimency? If you haven't, it's a bit hard to explain—after all, I'm only a hat."
"I haven't," said Wyzett, thinking of Lihen Bookstore and its shelves. "Where could I learn about Legilimency?"
"Perhaps the library," the hat suggested. "There's bound to be something in the Restricted Section—Hogwarts holds the oldest magical knowledge!"
"But now… I must do my duty. Since you're so unusual, why not choose for yourself? Which House would you like?"
Without hesitation, Wyzett replied, "Please sort me into Ravenclaw."
"You love knowledge, don't you?" The hat's tone was delighted. "Powerful wizards always yearn to explore, to swim in the sea of wisdom..."
"The library welcomes you, child! So then..." The hat split open once more and shouted, "Ravenclaw!"
Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged a glance and shook their heads, a hint of resigned amusement passing between them.
The Ravenclaw table erupted in thunderous applause—louder even than for the other new students. Wyzett found an empty spot and sat down. He kept his expression composed, but the tips of his ears glowed red.
Cho Chang beamed at him. "Congratulations—you're a Hatstall!"
"A Hatstall?" Wyzett echoed. "Is that a good thing?"
"Of course! It's an ancient term," Cho explained. "Only students whose sorting takes more than five minutes are called Hatstalls."
"You know how quickly The Sorting Hat usually works. For it to hesitate, a student must have many different strengths and qualities."
Wyzett nodded. He realized that becoming a Hatstall was a bit of a fluke—he'd been using Custodis Meditatio, which must have confused the hat and led it to let him choose for himself.
Penelope chimed in, "As far as I know, there've only been two Hatstalls in this century—and both ended up in Gryffindor."
"Maybe you need to have truly unique traits to become one. Take Professor McGonagall, for example—she was a Hatstall too, and she's a Gryffindor."
"She's the Deputy Headmistress and a master of Transfiguration. You'll see for yourself in class. The other Hatstall was Peter Pettigrew, also a Gryffindor."
"When You-Know-Who fell, he faced Sirius Black head-on and paid with his life. The Ministry of Magic awarded him the Order of Merlin, First Class, in his honor."
Suddenly, the Gryffindor table burst into cheers, chanting, "We've got Potter!"
"And we've got Wyzett!" Cho teased, grinning. "Hatstalls are rare, you know—you're Ravenclaw's very own Hatstall."
Thinking of the House Cup Professor McGonagall had mentioned, Wyzett couldn't help but sigh. "Looks like the House Cup competition is going to be fierce…"
"It is," Penelope agreed. "It's the highest honor at Hogwarts—true recognition for a House."
At last, the Sorting Ceremony ended. Ron was sorted into Gryffindor as well.
When Professor McGonagall took away the stool and The Sorting Hat, Dumbledore stepped to the front, standing before a magnificent owl statue.
The owl spread its wings and transformed into a small podium.
"The new school year begins tonight! Welcome back to Hogwarts! Before the feast, I'd like to say just a few words…"
The statue seemed to act as a magical amplifier, making Dumbledore's voice ring out clear and strong for everyone to hear.
Wyzett eyed the empty plates, suddenly reminded of headmasters from his past life—principals who promised a "few words" and then rambled on for an hour before letting anyone eat.
"And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
"Huh?" Wyzett barely had time to react before the delicious aroma of food flooded the Hall.
Amid thunderous applause, platters piled high with food appeared on every table: roast beef, pork chops, lamb, potatoes, roast chicken, sausages, crisps—everything imaginable.
The mountains of steaming food made his stomach growl with anticipation.
As Penelope scooped up a spoonful of mashed potatoes, she remarked, "Dumbledore really is a special headmaster. If only he were a Ravenclaw."
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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