Chương 35: Chapter 36 : Sorting Ceremony III [Final]

'Hmm... fascinating indeed,' the hat said directly into his mind. Its voice was dry and gravelly, but compared to the screeching performance from earlier, it was practically angelic.

'Oi!' the hat barked immediately.

'You ungrateful little brat. I'll have you know I'm the greatest singer the Wizarding World has ever produced. My voice has echoed through these halls for over a thousand years.'

'Tch.' It clicked its metaphorical tongue.

'Children these days have no appreciation for true artistry. Back in the day...' The hat rambled on for nearly two minutes about how the Four Founders—particularly that "bald-headed Slytherin"—used to pester it endlessly for private performances, and what an absolute stroke of good fortune it was for Hogwarts students to hear it sing. Tyson waited patiently for the rambling to end before steering the conversation back on track.

'So... you really can read minds?'

'Read minds?' the hat let out an amused chuckle, a bit of pride leaking into its voice.

'Boy, that's the least impressive thing I can do. There isn't a Legilimens alive who can rival me. If I wanted to, I could sift through every memory you've ever had before this Sorting was over.' It sniffed dismissively.

'But I simply don't bother. I've got better things to do with my time. Besides, an eleven-year-old's biggest secret is probably a hidden stash of candy. For sorting, surface thoughts are plenty.' Tyson relaxed a fraction. Although being called a "boy" stung a bit, he felt relieved he wasn't going to get mind-raped by an old, ugly hat. The silence lasted exactly half a second.

'... What did you just call me!?' the hat's outraged voice exploded inside his skull.

'Ugly!? Did you just think I was ugly!?'

'Well...'

'Don't "well" me, you brat!' the hat snapped.

'The cheek of you! I admit I do look a bit patched up and dusty, but whose fault is that? I haven't exactly got arms, have I? Cleaning me is the Headmaster's responsibility, yet after every Sorting that old codger tosses me onto a shelf and forgets I exist until the following year!' Tyson blinked, his eyes glinting like those of a gossipy aunty in a neighborhood.

'Maybe it's because he's too busy. After all, Dumbledore isn't just the Headmaster of Hogwarts. He's also the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot and the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards. That's a lot.'

'Busy?' the hat scoffed.

'That's the biggest load of dragon dung I've heard all century.'

'He hasn't attended a Wizengamot meeting in Merlin knows how long. These days, he spends most of his time hiding in his office, stuffing himself with sherbet lemons and playing with Fawkes.' It huffed resentfully.

'Then, every Christmas, he shamelessly starts dropping hints in front of students about how he would love to have another pair of woollen socks for Christmas. He's just a lazy and irresponsible old geezer. Hmph!' This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.

'That's rough, buddy,' Tyson thought, genuinely feeling a pang of sympathy for the hat. If it was telling the truth, its grievances were more than justified, and it had every right to complain. Really, how much effort could cleaning a hat possibly require? A quick Scourgify every now and then would get the job done. Dumbledore could probably do it without so much as lifting his wand. Now, Tyson was starting to wonder if Dumbledore was really the evil sort, as the many fanfics described him.

'I can doll you up if you want,' Tyson offered.

'But you'll have to wait for me to learn Scourgify first.' He reckoned it wouldn't take long. Although it was a fourth-year Charm, there were many instances where the Cleaning Charm could come in handy, and Tyson could use the same trick he had used to learn Accio, significantly reducing the learning time. The Sorting Hat didn't know that. It conveyed its doubts about his ability to learn a fourth-year Charm while still being a first-year, but it expressed its appreciation for the thought. Well, what a pity.

Tyson wanted to see if he could sneak into the Headmaster's office using the excuse and play with Fawkes too. Being able to stroke a phoenix like a neighborhood cat was too tempting for his animal lover's heart.

'So how do you actually decide where people belong?' Tyson asked, genuinely curious.

'Surface thoughts don't seem all that reliable.'

'They're not,' the hat replied.

'Thoughts change by the second. Fear distorts them. Excitement distorts them. Expectations distort them.' Its tone became noticeably more serious as it continued.

'I read magic. It is far more honest than the mind. A person can deceive themselves. They can bury the truth so deeply they genuinely believe the lie. Their magic rarely does.' Tyson was left even more confused than before. What did that even mean? Did magic carry its own distinct frequency? Tyson was still trying to wrap his head around that when the hat continued.

'I also take a student's preference into account,' it added after a pause.

'Provided the preference isn't idiotic.' Tyson jumped on the offer immediately.

'Hufflepuff!' he thought firmly.

'I'd like to go to Hufflepuff.' He had really put a lot of thought into it. From Tyson's perspective, no matter how much the other Houses—and even people in his previous life—dissed Hufflepuff, it was the best of the four Houses. Even Rowling herself had admitted to that. Unlike the reckless, glory-hungry Gryffindors, the bookish bullies of Ravenclaw, and the racist, classist, and many-other-ists Slytherins, Hufflepuffs were mainly known for their kindness and loyalty.

And most importantly, they were low-key, unassuming, and generally left to their own devices. The perfect inconspicuous cover for his plans going forward. He fully intended to turn the legendary Room of Requirement into his secret second dormitory. Studying, exercising, practicing spells, experimenting with magic. He was going to make full use of everything the magical space had to offer. The hat let out a low, disapproving snort.

'Absolutely not. You're far too cunning for Helga's House. She'd roll in her grave if I sent someone like you there.'

'Cunning? Me?' Tyson was genuinely stunned by the firm refusal. It wasn't that bad... right?

'Don't play dumb with me,' the hat said flatly.

'Hufflepuff is more suitable for simple-minded and honest children, which you clearly aren't. Now, let's see where you truly belong.' It paused for a moment before continuing in a distinctly critical tone.

'Hufflepuff is out. Gryffindor is out as well. You've plenty of courage already, but that's hardly what defines you. So it's between that knowledge-hungry mind of yours and the ambition you're so desperately trying to hide from me. Both Slytherin and Ravenclaw would suit you perfectly.'

'Not Slytherin!' Tyson thought immediately and firmly.

'Not Slytherin?' the hat said, sounding almost amused.

'Hmm. No... no, I see why. A very sensible reason.'

'In that case.' The hat didn't wait any longer. Its brim lifted, and it announced loudly:"RAVENCLAW!"