The Overloaded Sorting Hat, Which House Will It Be?

"That hat's smoking!"

At Harry's cry, the teachers and students in the Great Hall all turned their eyes toward the Sorting Hat.

Thin wisps of white smoke really were drifting up from the grayish-brown hat.

"Oh, Merlin's beard, has the Sorting Hat finally broken?!"

"This is unfair! Why should future first years not have to wear that shabby, dirty old hat!"

"..."

The older students were all gloating, occasionally even letting out wails of "unfairness."

"Who's that underclassman? He actually made the Sorting Hat crash!"

"Ugh, he looks like a very handsome little brother. I wonder which house he'll be sorted into?"

As for the first years who had not yet been sorted, they were completely dumbfounded. If the hat really was broken, which house were they supposed to be sent to?

Suddenly, a flat-headed, short, chubby little wizard turned pale and muttered, trembling:

"Malfoy, if we can't be sorted into houses, we won't get expelled, right?"

Beside him, a thin boy with pale blond hair glanced at him with gray eyes, his tone mocking:

"Crabbe, how could you ask such a stupid question?"

"Have you forgotten who my father is?"

Draco Malfoy—his father, Lucius, was the current head of the Malfoy family, as well as a governor of Hogwarts.

A governor's child not being able to attend this school?

Malfoy looked at Lucien on the stage, his eyes full of interest.

He had thought that this year, only Harry Potter, that legendary boy, would catch his eye and be worthy of becoming friends with him, Draco Malfoy. He had not expected another such eye-catching figure to appear now.

Lucien Grafton. Mm, he should find a chance to get acquainted with him.

But Grafton?

Was there a pure-blood family like that...

Professor McGonagall had taught at Hogwarts for decades, and this was the first time she had seen the Sorting Hat behave so abnormally.

She looked back at Dumbledore, wanting to ask how they should handle it.

But Dumbledore merely stroked his beard and looked at Lucien with a smile.

He had lived for more than a century and spent most of his life in this school, having seen and taught who knew how many students.

Yet he had never encountered a young wizard who could make the Sorting Hat spend more than ten minutes and still fail to reach a result.

And judging by the Sorting Hat's behavior, it was nearly overloaded. It really was hard on this old antique.

After McGonagall had informed him in advance, Dumbledore had already gained some understanding of Lucien's magical talent, and he had also been very interested in meeting this "genius."

But before the two of them had even truly talked or formally made contact, Dumbledore had already seen Lucien's uniqueness.

The Sorting Hat was the hat Godric Gryffindor had once used, and it had also been imbued with the thoughts and wisdom of the four founders of the houses. It was an ancient and intelligent magical object.

It could directly peer into a young wizard's talents and qualities, then pick out the most obvious and purest part among them, identify which house's traits they suited, and thereby decide where the young wizard should go.

But the sheer length of time Lucien had taken, and the difficulty involved, made even Dumbledore feel surprised—and delighted.

Because this showed how rich Lucien's qualities were, how outstanding his talents were. His traits were so many, so powerful, that even the Sorting Hat could not make a decision for a long while.

Only a wizard with distinct traits and extraordinary talent could climb higher and go farther.

Dumbledore considered whether, after this ended, he should ask the Sorting Hat exactly what talents and qualities this child named Lucien possessed that had made it so conflicted.

Only after noticing McGonagall's questioning look did Dumbledore merely shake his head at her, indicating that there was no need to worry.

And Lucien, the focus of all those gazes...

Was in his mental world, comforting the Sorting Hat.

"Hat, stop agonizing over it. This really isn't because you're not capable. Maybe you're just not in good form today?"

A slightly illusory Sorting Hat drifted about chaotically in Lucien's mental world.

"No!"

"I will never sort a young wizard into the wrong house!"

"Absolutely not!"

Lucien was somewhat speechless, and very much wanted to retort that the Sorting Hat really could sort people wrongly, couldn't it?

For example, Peter Pettigrew—a traitor, a coward, a filthy rat—had actually been sorted into Gryffindor?

But Lucien still held back and did not further provoke the Sorting Hat, afraid he would completely fry its thinking.

"Though you are Muggle-born, your talent is truly something I have only seen once in my hat-life. And there is ambition too—ambition to grasp power."

"Slytherin!"

"No, no, that's not right. More precisely, your ambition is a thirst for knowledge, a pursuit of knowledge. In the magical world, knowledge is power."

"Ravenclaw!"

"No, no, no. You absolutely do not lack the courage to explore the unknown, that firm and fearless quality."

"Gryffindor!"

Lucien had already stopped chiming in with the Sorting Hat's rambling, because...

"There is still a problem. You study tirelessly, with patience and effort remarkable enough to draw attention."

"Hufflepuff!"

That was right. The Sorting Hat had once again denied the self it had been a second ago.

Lucien suspected that if the Sorting Hat could make a few clones of itself, they would probably start tearing each other apart.

This would not do. It felt like quite a while had passed already. He still had not finished today's book, and there were still a few spells left unpracticed.

He could not keep wasting time with this hat.

"Ahem. Let's go with Ravenclaw, then."

After listening to the Sorting Hat chatter for so long, coupled with Lucien's memories of the original work, he had basically gained a full understanding of the four houses' traits.

Gryffindor was the brave lion, but it was also a gathering place for reckless fools. Who knew how much trouble would come crashing into him there?

Slytherin was the cold viper. Though they were all a bunch of shrewd egoists, there was no shortage of little pure-blood brats who could not open their mouths without talking about bloodlines. Lucien could certainly use his wand to teach them what it meant for bloodline to be nothing but a gorgeous, useless ornament before real strength.

But just like with Gryffindor, Lucien wanted to avoid trouble as much as possible.

He needed time. He needed time to study, to research magic—especially Transfiguration. He had to master all of it within one year.

So that left two suitable choices.

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were both relatively low-key, leaving the stage to the lions and the snakes.

Hufflepuff had the most students and was made up of gentle, unassuming little badgers. Most of its students were kind at heart, so it should be able to provide a steady everyday environment.

But Lucien still leaned toward Ravenclaw.

This flock of clever, wise eagles had long since built themselves an intensely competitive eagle's nest!

As for Lucien, he loved competition far too much—competing with others, and even more so with himself.

The trailblazers ahead, the fellow travelers at his side, and the pursuers behind him all formed a lovely landscape of striving that delighted Lucien.

The Sorting Hat fell silent.

After a dozen seconds or so, that silence came to an end.

"What you said makes sense!"

In reality, the Sorting Hat's mouth split open, and it gave its loudest proclamation so far.

"Ravenclaw!!!"