The Sorting Hat

A line of nervous young wizards followed Professor McGonagall into the Great Hall.

It was truly a magical, magnificent, and opulent place. Students from other years were already seated around four long tables, while thousands of candles floating in mid-air illuminated the room. The four tables were set with gleaming golden plates and goblets. On a dais at the head of the hall stood another long table, reserved for the teachers.

What was most astonishing and magical of all was the ceiling; the velvet-black canopy shimmered with twinkling starlight, looking exactly like a tranquil night sky.

Professor McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years, followed by a pointed wizard's hat. The hat was patched, threadbare, and extremely dirty. Suddenly, the hat began to sing, leaving all the first-years stunned.

Professor McGonagall held a roll of parchment and called out names. As each child sat on the stool, the hat shouted out their house—sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly—and applause erupted from the long tables in the Great Hall.

"Allen Harris." Shortly after Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor, Allen walked steadily toward the stool, confident that he could deceive this hat that claimed to have a mind of its own.

As the grimy hat was placed upon his soft, blonde hair, Allen adjusted it with slight discomfort, doing his best to keep it from touching the skin of his face.

"Hmm, very talented. I can feel the magic surging forth, which is quite rare for a young wizard of your age. You are steady and not impulsive; you are neither anxious to know your house nor eager to voice your opinions. You have no burning desire for power. To which house should I assign you?"

"Oh, you are keen on the accumulation of knowledge, the pursuit of wisdom, and the desire to explore the unknown world, wandering in an ocean of learning. Then you should be sorted into—"

"Ravenclaw!"

Polite applause rippled through the Great Hall. As Allen walked toward the long table belonging to his house, he felt a wave of relief; he had successfully deceived the Sorting Hat and prevented it from detecting the secret of his rebirth.

Flag was sorted into Gryffindor, which did not surprise Allen. Flag might not be the cleverest, but he had never lacked courage or righteousness. Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin and looked particularly smug. Then—Harry!

Whispers filled the hall, and heads turned as everyone tried to catch a glimpse of the legendary Harry Potter, who had defeated You-Know-Who. Harry looked extremely nervous; he sat on the stool with his eyes closed, his hands gripping the edges tightly, muttering to himself. He remained on the stool for a long time before the hat shouted—Gryffindor. Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table, echoing through the entire hall as everyone vied to shake Harry's hand, taking pride in the moment.

Ron was sorted into Gryffindor, and his brothers cheered wildly with delight.

Allen looked over at the neighboring table and saw Harry and Flag looking at him with regret. Allen felt a touch of emotion; people were always saddened by partings, but reunions were bound to be exceptionally joyful. Staying together for too long often led to friction and conflict. Perhaps this was the beauty of distance.

"Do you know Harry Potter over there?" a languid voice suddenly sounded beside him.

"Yes." Allen didn't offer much explanation. He withdrew his gaze from Harry and the others and turned to look.

The owner of the voice was a boy with brown hair, fair skin, and a few mischievous freckles on his cheeks. He had dark, heavy circles under his eyes.

"Didn't you sleep well last night?" It was indeed strange to see such heavy dark circles on an energetic young boy. Allen asked the question involuntarily.

"Yes, I can never get enough sleep." The boy's brown eyes were filled with exhaustion, but also with sincerity.

"I'm Allen Harris. Nice to meet you." Allen reached out his hand.

"I'm Edward, Edward Fox." Edward looked like he desperately needed a bed, his voice drifting.

At this moment, Albus Dumbledore stood up. He looked at the students with a beaming smile and spread his arms, as if nothing could make him happier than seeing them all gathered together. "Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down. Everyone applauded and cheered. Unlike the whispering in other houses, the Ravenclaw students seemed to have understood him. Allen couldn't help but sigh; though there were few who could enter this house, everyone seemed to have their own expertise and broad horizons!

Just then, Allen noticed Edward's eyes widen. The long tables before them were now laden with food: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, steaks, boiled potatoes, baked potatoes, potato chips, Yorkshire pudding, garden peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and for some bizarre reason, mint humbugs.

The abundance of food instantly enlivened the atmosphere, and everyone chatted and laughed happily. Perhaps the relaxation following the tension increased his appetite, as Allen ate far more than his usual portion. Finally, the puddings vanished, and Professor Dumbledore stood up again. The hall fell silent once more. "Ahem—now that we are all fed and watered, I must once again ask for your attention. At the start of the term, I have a few notices to give you..."

Finally, everyone sang the school song in a disjointed fashion and filed out of the Great Hall in order.

Allen, full and satisfied, looked forward to it, hoping the Ravenclaw dormitories would be very comfortable.