The silence in the Great Hall was palpable. Minerva McGonagall strode forward, placed a three-legged stool in front of the teachers' table, and set the Sorting Hat upon it. The old, patched, and dirty piece of cloth opened a tear near the brim like a mouth and began to sing:
"Oh, you might think I'm not handsome,
But don't judge by what you see.
I'll eat myself if you can find me
a smarter hat than me.
You can have black bowler hats,
tall and elegant top hats,
But I am the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts
and I can beat them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
that the Sorting Hat cannot see,
So try me and I'll tell you
the house you should belong to.
You can belong to Gryffindor,
where the brave of heart dwell.
His daring, composure, and chivalry
They put Gryffindors above everyone else.
Or perhaps you belong in Hufflepuff,
where they are fair and loyal.
Those hardworking Hufflepuffs are true
and they are not afraid of hard work.
Or maybe in old Ravenclaw,
if you have an open mind.
There, those of great intelligence and erudition
They will always find their kind.
Or maybe in Slytherin
You will make your true friends.
Those cunning people will use any means necessary.
to achieve their goals.
So try me! Don't be afraid!
And don't get nervous!
You're in safe hands, even though I don't have hands.
because I am a Thinking Hat.
As soon as the Sorting Hat finished its song, the Great Hall erupted in applause. Professor McGonagall stepped forward, unrolling a long scroll of yellowed parchment.
"Abbott, Hannah"
Hannah stumbled a little on her heels and sat down on the stool. The Sorting Hat completely covered her eyes. There was a pause for a second and…
"¡HUFFLEPUFF!"
The table to the left cheered enthusiastically as Hannah ran to sit down, grinning from ear to ear.
Harry watched the parade of names with curiosity. "Bones, Susan" was quickly called up to join Hannah at the table of yellow ties after only a few seconds of deliberation. Next came "Boot, Terry," a skinny, nervous-looking boy who ended up being the first to be sorted into Ravenclaw. "Brocklehurst, Mandy" also went to Ravenclaw, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first Gryffindor of the night, unleashing loud cheers from the table of red scarves.
"Bulstrode, Millicent," stepped forward. Harry glanced at her; she was a big girl, broad-shouldered, with a square jaw that already hinted at a natural hostility. The Sorting Hat barely touched her hair before shouting, "SLYTHERIN!"
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin" was sent to Hufflepuff.
"Granger, Hermione"
Hermione leaped up, nearly tripping over her robes, and ran to the stool. She slammed the Sorting Hat on her head as if she were about to take a life-or-death exam. Harry watched her intently. Several tense seconds passed in silence. The Hat seemed to hesitate, shaking slightly over her thick brown hair. Finally, the brim popped open.
"¡RAVENCLAW!"
The Eagles' table erupted in applause. Hermione removed her hat with a sigh of pure relief, scanning for Harry before hurrying to sit among the blue-tied students, already engaged in a debate with a second-year girl about the haunted ceiling.
"Longbottom, Neville," the timid boy who had lost his toad on the train, walked to the stool as if he were going to the gallows. The Hat took a long time with him before shouting, "GRYFFINDOR!" Neville ran off wearing the hat, causing laughter throughout the Great Hall, and had to crawl back to give it back to McGonagall.
When "Malfoy, Draco" was called, the blond boy walked over with insufferable self-importance. The Sorting Hat didn't even touch his hair.
"¡SLYTHERIN!"
Malfoy smiled maliciously, joining Crabbe and Goyle, who were already waiting for him at the snake table.
The parade continued with names that were unfamiliar to Harry. "Moon...", "Nott...", "Parkinson...", until McGonagall's voice cut through the air with a different force.
"Peverell-Potter, Harry"
The murmur in the dining hall stopped abruptly. The Great Hall became a tomb. Conversations froze mid-sentence, and cutlery fell silent. Peverell? Potter? The names Peverell were whispers of old legends, and Potter was the name of the Boy Who Lived. The combination of the two made even the professors lean forward in their chairs.
Harry walked slowly, his wizard robes billowing above his military boots. He sat down on the stool and let the old fabric fall over his forehead, plunging him into gloom.
"Well, well..." a small, sly voice echoed directly in his head. "What a curious mind. What immense power. You're no ordinary boy, are you, Harry Potter? I know your defenses, lad... I see you're familiar with ancient magic, the kind created by Merlin that goes far beyond English wands. You possess knowledge that doesn't quite belong in this corner of the world."
Harry tensed slightly in place, clenching his jaw.
"No need to block any more, lad. I'm just looking for your place." The Sorting Hat chuckled dryly, resigned to the complete blockage of its central memory. "You could go to Slytherin. There's a relentless ambition in you, a desire to rebuild your lineage from the ashes of the past. You'd become master of snakes in a week. But I also see Ravenclaw; that thirst to understand how the universe works, to dissect magic with logic... you'd put scholars to shame. And Gryffindor? You have the courage to face anything if necessary. You could walk any of the four paths and rewrite the history of this castle."
'My grandparents told me to come here for a reason,' Harry thought to himself, turning to the Sorting Hat and keeping his composure.
"Oh, really? Well, what are you looking for then?"
'Friends. A home. People who have my back not because of the name I carry, but because we share a true bond. My grandmother told me that it's no use being the strongest wizard if at the end of the day you go to sleep completely alone. She was a Hufflepuff. She met my grandfather here.'
The Sorting Hat remained deathly silent for several seconds. Harry could feel the device carefully probing the only corner it was allowed to see on his chest, where the memories of his grandmother's peaceful smile painted on the canvas still shone like molten gold.
"I see... Gold and loyalty. Fertile ground where your roots can grow without the poison of fame. Yes... let the world tremble when the badgers decide to bite." The Hat opened into the dining room. "HUFFLEPUFF!"
The Badger table erupted in the loudest cheer of the night. Susan and Hannah were jumping in their seats, clapping wildly. Harry stood up, handed his hat to a stunned McGonagall, and walked calmly back to his table.
Dumbledore clapped slowly from his throne, his gaze shadowed; the Savior of the Wizarding World had just fallen into the workers' house, completely beyond his control.
The selection ended shortly afterwards with "Weasley, Ronald", who ended up in Gryffindor with a pale face after seeing that Harry was not going to the same house as him, and "Zabini, Blaise", sent to Slytherin.
Albus Dumbledore stood up. He had a radiant smile and his arms outstretched, as if nothing in the world could make him happier than seeing that group of hungry children.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I'd like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
The game resumed in its place. Everyone applauded and cheered. Harry raised an eyebrow, amused by the old man's eccentricity, as the food suddenly appeared on silver platters.
Harry settled at the Hufflepuff table and helped himself to some meat. As he glanced up at the teachers' table, he felt eyes fixed on him. It was a man with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and dark robes. The man was staring at him with barely concealed contempt.
At that very moment, the Deathly Hallows earring in Harry's right ear vibrated sharply. The metal warmed slightly against his skin, sending a warning pulse straight to his mind. Someone was trying to sneak into his head. Legilimency.
Harry didn't even blink. He passively let the mental protection of the earring repel the attack, raised his juice glass to the Potions professor, and gave him a sly, completely serene smile. Snape looked away abruptly, gritting his teeth and looking quite bewildered.
"Well, well, Peverell. You're already making important friends," whispered an amused voice beside him.
Harry turned and saw Tonks winking at him from a few seats away. Her hair had changed from its usual pink to a bright Hufflepuff yellow to celebrate the Sorting.
"I'm just being polite, Tonks," Harry replied with a chuckle, handing her a tray of bread rolls.
She spent the rest of dinner chatting casually with Susan and Hannah, completely ignoring the spiteful looks Ron Weasley was giving her from the Gryffindor table while stuffing himself with chicken.
When everyone had finished eating, the remains vanished from the plates, leaving them as clean as before. Dumbledore stood up again. The Great Hall fell silent immediately.
"Well, now that we've all been fed and drunk, a few more words for the start-of-year announcements," said Dumbledore calmly. "First-years should be aware that the woods on the grounds are off-limits to all students. And a few of our older members should remember that as well. Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you that you must not perform magic in the corridors during breaks. Quidditch tryouts will take place in the second week of term. Those interested in playing for their house teams should contact Mrs. Hooch. And finally, this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is off-limits to anyone who does not wish to suffer a painful death."
Harry smiled inwardly; the headmaster wasn't very subtle with his tricks. After everyone sang the school anthem, each at their own pace, dinner came to an end.
The prefects led the first-year students to the cellars near the kitchens. The corridor smelled of damp earth, cinnamon, and freshly baked bread. They stopped in front of a stack of large wooden barrels hidden in a shadowy alcove.
"To enter, you have to hit the second barrel in the bottom row, to the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff," explained the head prefect, tapping rhythmically: ta, ta-ta, ta-ta.
The barrel lid slid open, revealing a round stone tunnel that sloped upwards. One by one, the children crawled inside until they emerged into the Hufflepuff common room.
It was a beautiful place. The ceiling was low and inviting, the circular walls were decorated with light wood and countless hanging plants that climbed towards the light from the round windows. Several plush sofas in yellow and black surrounded a giant stone fireplace where the fire crackled with a comforting warmth.
Seated in one of the main armchairs, Professor Pomona Sprout, head of the house, awaited them with a motherly smile on her plump face and her robes slightly stained with dirt. She waited until everyone was settled on the rug before speaking.
"Welcome to Hufflepuff," Sprout said, his voice soft but filling the room with immense warmth. "I know many in this school think our house is the one that gets the scraps. That we're the ones who don't fit the mold of bravery, cunning, or intelligence. But let me tell you something: you're wrong. Helga Hufflepuff wasn't looking for soldiers, or haughty scholars, or ambitious politicians. She was looking for people. Human beings willing to work hard, to be loyal, and to treat everyone equally. Here, we don't care where you come from, or what your surname is, or what stories are told about you outside these walls. In here, you're family. We protect each other, we work the land together, and we look out for our fellow students. If you touch one badger, you'll face the whole warren. Enjoy your stay, little ones. You're home."
Susan wiped away a stray tear with the back of her hand, and Hannah smiled at Harry, who nodded silently, feeling that Professor Sprout's words really did have soul.
Harry climbed the wooden spiral staircase to the boys' dormitory. He shared his room with three other boys: Justin Finch-Fletchley, the rather polite Muggle-born boy; Ernie Macmillan, a square-jawed pure-blood who introduced himself with an overly formal handshake; and Wayne Hopkins. Their trunks were already at the foot of the four four-poster beds, decorated with yellow patchwork quilts.
After a few brief introductions and wishing each other goodnight, the boys turned off the lamps.
Harry undressed, leaving his robes and leather jacket on a chair and his earring on the nightstand. He slipped between the sheets, which were magically warm and smelled of lavender. The silence in the basement was absolute, broken only by the steady breathing of his companions.
Harry lay on his back, staring at the wooden-beamed ceiling of the room.