Chapter 39 Then Slytherin
"I truly suspect that quill might be broken, but it never makes mistakes. That thing is even older than I am."
The Sorting Hat spoke abruptly, and if it could show a human expression, it would surely be the look of an old man fumbling with a subway phone.
"Whether I am or not doesn't matter. At least I'm here," Dudley said, still doing his best to keep his mind calm and steady.
"Well said."
The Sorting Hat gave a slight nod.
"So which house will I be sorted into? Hufflepuff?"
Dudley was already prepared for that outcome.
'Hurry up and put me in Hufflepuff, I'm hungry already.'
The Sorting Hat paused, as though it had just discovered something. "I take back what I said earlier. In truth, you have great ambition, ability, and foresight. You prefer to prepare thoroughly before acting. What's the word? Yes—precaution. You really remind me of someone…"
"You can read my thoughts?"
A ripple stirred in Dudley's heart. Before stepping onstage, he had gone through five rounds of meditation training, strengthening his defenses against mental intrusion.
"No, I can only sense your traits."
"That so-called 'trait'?"
Countless guesses flashed through Dudley's mind.
"Yes, wait, stop—your thoughts are like a jar of sesame seeds spilled across the floor, so messy they give me a headache. You're nothing like those simple-minded young wizards."
Dudley, of course, did not think as simply as an ordinary wizard.
"Sorting Hat, and yet you claim you don't read minds?"
The Sorting Hat protested, "I'm only a hat. There's no need to take me so seriously."
"Normally, I should respect the wishes of young wizards like you. But my consciousness was formed from the thoughts of the four founders of this school…"
At this point, its tone shifted, slowing down and dropping into a low, heavy timbre.
Though still the same Sorting Hat, it gave Dudley the strange impression that another hat had replaced it.
Perhaps it was not just an illusion.
Or maybe… a split personality?
"You are very much like that person," it repeated.
"Strong-willed, disdainful of dogma… Of course, if only you would stop that endless stream of nonsense in your head! Now! Immediately! The Hat is about to explode!"
The first half had been deliberately cryptic, but the latter was urgent, reverting to its earlier tone.
Dudley disliked anyone prying into his thoughts, even a hat. So he deliberately flooded his mind with everything he had studied over the years—from the Pythagorean theorem, to calculus, to the physiological differences between men and women.
'd/dx(sin x) = cos x, d/dx(cos x) = -sin x, d/dx(tan x) = sec²x.'
'When multiple particles interact, their combined properties form a whole that cannot be described by their individual characteristics alone.'
Seeing that Dudley refused to stop, the Sorting Hat finally relented.
"All right, all right, I won't look anymore."
The ocean of chaotic knowledge nearly drowned its consciousness.
It swore that in a thousand years, this was the first time it had ever encountered such a student.
Where had he learned all this?
By now, quite some time had passed since Dudley first put on the Hat. Though most attention was still on Harry, people were beginning to notice that something was unusual. Dudley had worn the Sorting Hat for longer than Harry had.
"Perhaps you have heard much ill of that place before coming here. But what others say is not always the truth. A thousand years can twist many things. I hope you will see beyond appearances, and grasp the essence."
And with that, the Sorting Hat suddenly screamed aloud.
"Then… Slytherin!"
Almost at the exact moment the Sorting Hat shouted, a system notification rang in Dudley's ear.
"Task complete. Entered Slytherin House. Task reward: Data Evil Eye LV0."
Before Dudley could even check his reward, the Sorting Hat's voice came again.
"Salazar's will hopes you can set that place in order. Slytherin as it stands now is a filthy mess… like a cesspit."
For the first time, Dudley's expression shifted.
Salazar—full name Salazar Slytherin—one of Hogwarts' founders, the creator of Slytherin House.
Slytherin wanted him to reorganize the very house he had founded? At first it sounded absurd, but on second thought it made sense. The Sorting Hat was born from the infused thoughts of the four great founders. With magical portraits that could converse with the dead, it was hardly strange for a hat to carry fragments of their consciousness.
It wasn't scientific, but it was certainly magical.
'Then—'
A sudden bold idea flashed in Dudley's mind.
But before he could act on it, the Sorting Hat cut him off. "Hey, I'm just a hat—an ordinary magical hat. I only carry their thoughts from that time. I don't possess their knowledge."
"What a pity," Dudley muttered with regret.
Then another thought struck him. Wasn't it true that Slytherin had split with Gryffindor precisely over the issue of admitting students? He had opposed allowing Muggle-borns to attend Hogwarts. And Dudley himself was, in the strictest sense, a Muggle-born wizard.
Both his parents were non-magical, and he had suddenly awakened wizarding talent—a child of the Muggle world.
"Slytherin is Slytherin, and I am myself. I carry his will, but I am not Salazar."
That sounded reasonable enough. Magical, in any case.
"Now, to the Slytherin table. At once!"
A large hand descended, plucking the Sorting Hat from Dudley's head and cutting off the conversation. A black-haired, black-robed, sallow-faced middle-aged man glared coldly at him.
Notably, the man's greasy, shoulder-length hair framed his sharp features.
Dudley had remained on the stool far too long, and the head of Slytherin House had finally lost patience.
Snape yanked sharply at Dudley, but found him utterly immovable.
His lips curled as though ready to unleash venom, but after a pause, as if recalling something, his words changed at the last moment.
"What are you still standing there for? Must we invite you personally, Mr. Dursley?"
Suppressed laughter broke out across the hall, rising from the Gryffindor table. Any embarrassment suffered by Slytherin was a cause for their delight.
Some of them did find it odd that Professor Snape's insult seemed beneath his usual standards, but that thought quickly passed. This was Snape after all—known for fiercely protecting his own house.
By tradition, when a new student was sorted, even if they weren't celebrated like Harry, at least a round of applause was expected. But when Dudley joined Slytherin, there were no cheers, not even a single welcome.
Even the seats around him shifted away, leaving a clear space.
The message was plain: he was unwelcome, and rejected.
(This chapter ends)
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