Chapter 38 Are You Really a Wizard?
"Hermione, do you know how they decide which house we're sorted into?"
Once Professor McGonagall left after giving her instructions, Harry could not hold back his question.
He thought that he neither had Dudley's talent for self-studying Potions, nor Hermione's ability to learn spells on her own, nor was he like Ron and Neville, who had grown up in the wizarding world. Until now, aside from reading a few books, he could not even cast a single spell.
Unfortunately, Hermione—the know-it-all who always seemed to have the answer—disappointed him this time. She shook her head and said unwillingly, "I don't know. I looked through many books, but they only mentioned in passing that Hogwarts required a Sorting Ceremony. None of them recorded any details about how the ceremony actually works."
Harry turned to Neville and Ron.
"My uncle wouldn't tell me," Neville said, looking more nervous than Harry himself. His face was twisted in worry. "I don't think I'll pass. A few years ago, everyone thought I might be a Squib."
"It must be some kind of test. Fred said it hurts us a lot, but I think he was just joking." Ron tried his best to sound calm, though inside he was no less anxious than Neville.
"Don't worry, Harry."
Dudley patted his cousin's shoulder, signaling that he need not fret. "If we can't pass, we'll just go to Smeltings."
Hearing this, Harry's eyes lit up, and his tension eased.
As long as he could study together with Dudley, wasn't it all the same wherever they went?
Just then, a group of pale, translucent figures drifted through the wall, making the young wizards at the front cry out in shock.
They were ghosts.
Dudley had the urge to study the structure and principles behind them, but it was clearly not the time.
Because Professor McGonagall had returned.
"Now, line up in single file and follow me."
It had to be said, the grandeur of the Hogwarts Great Hall gave Dudley a small shock, especially the thousands of floating candles and the ceiling that reflected the sky above.
The candles were enchanted, so they hardly burned down. Otherwise, keeping so many alight would cost a fortune.
Dudley could not help but sigh—magic was convenient.
In the center of the hall stood a four-legged stool, and upon it sat a pointed wizard's hat. It was dark, greasy, and patched.
The Sorting Hat.
Suddenly, a wide seam at the brim split open like a mouth, and it began to sing:
"You may belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart.
You may belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil.
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind.
Or perhaps in Slytherin,
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends."
The first three verses were filled with praise, especially Gryffindor, which was showered with more compliments than all the others combined. But when it came to Slytherin, aside from the first line that could barely be taken as praise, the rest was outright sarcasm.
The bias was plain.
Why the Sorting Hat was biased against Slytherin didn't interest Dudley. Perhaps it was just Slytherin's own twisted sense of humor.
What he truly wondered was which house he himself would be placed into—
And whether the Hat would glimpse the secrets hidden deep in his heart.
Given his magical talent, he would most likely be sent to Hufflepuff, since in the wizarding world it was often considered the house of mediocrity. But with his scholarly habits, there was also a chance he might be sent to Ravenclaw.
"Ding."
Just then, a pleasant system notification chimed in Dudley's ear.
"Join any Hogwarts house, and the reward will depend on the specific house."
It seemed that each house offered a different reward.
At that moment, Professor McGonagall took out a parchment scroll and read the first name.
"Hannah Abbott."
It was a golden-haired girl with twin ponytails.
A few seconds later, as the Sorting Hat declared "Hufflepuff," the so-called Hatstall King's title was set in stone.
Then came Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley… One by one, names were read aloud. Dudley noticed after just a few that the order of the list was clearly not alphabetical.
Aside from the Hatstall King starting with an A, the next was an H, then back to A, then P, then again H. No matter how one looked at it, it was not alphabetical sorting.
Ron and Neville were sorted smoothly into Gryffindor, while Malfoy, unsurprisingly, went into Slytherin.
"Where do you want to go, Hermione?" Dudley asked the girl beside him.
"Gryffindor or Ravenclaw," Hermione replied with a conflicted look. "I've thought about it for a long time between those two. Ravenclaw has its own private library and a wonderful learning environment. But Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall both graduated from Gryffindor, and many famous wizards came from there as well."
"And you, Dudley?"
"Any house is fine."
Dudley's tone was much more casual. He was almost certain he would end up in Hufflepuff.
He had even begun considering when he should sneak out at night for snacks, since Hufflepuff's common room was closest to the kitchens.
When Hermione's name was called, she rushed forward, and the Sorting Hat hardly hesitated before shouting Gryffindor.
Though Hermione had the traits of a top student, she was born a Gryffindor.
Being smart and hardworking did not necessarily mean belonging to Ravenclaw.
Soon, the only ones left unsorted were Harry and Dudley.
Harry went second to last.
"Don't be nervous, Harry. No matter which houses we're placed in, we'll always be brothers."
Dudley whispered this before Harry stepped forward.
Not long after, the Sorting Hat's clear voice rang out: "Gryffindor!"
"We've got Potter!"
The loudest cheers erupted across the hall. Gryffindor students jumped and clapped in joy. In contrast, the other three houses visibly slumped in disappointment. Dudley even noticed Malfoy muttering angrily to himself among the Slytherins.
By the time Dudley walked onto the stage, no one was paying him any attention, save for Hermione and Harry.
All eyes were still on Harry.
After all, he was the Savior.
The Sorting Hat was gently lowered onto Dudley's head.
Immediately, a voice with a note of surprise sounded in his mind.
"Ohhhh…"
The drawn-out syllable stretched for a long moment before it ended.
"Are you really a wizard?"
(This chapter ends)
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