Convinced by Hermione to stay where he was, Ron finally tore his eyes away from Draco and decided to ignore the provocation.
Turning to the other students, he began talking excitedly about the Sorting.
After spending a few minutes genuinely worried about the possibility of being expelled, Ron had now shifted all his anxiety onto the Sorting itself.
His words stirred nervousness among many of the young witches and wizards from pure-blood families; even the usually arrogant Draco paled slightly.
" My father… my father said he fought a werewolf when he started at Hogwarts… " he murmured, trying to sound confident.
At the mention of this, several faces around him tensed, some even turning pale.
The crowd murmured for a few moments longer until, suddenly, the Great Hall fell silent.
Influenced by the solemn atmosphere, all conversation ceased.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward and carefully placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-year students.
Then, she set an old wizard's hat on it. Its crown was floppy, the fabric patched, worn, and incredibly dirty.
Harry recognized it immediately. It was the very same hat he had worn during his first Sorting at Hogwarts.
Then, the hat moved.
A wide slit opened in its brim, as if it were a mouth—and it began to sing:
You may not think me handsome,
but don't judge a book by its cover.
If you find a hat more beautiful than I,
I swear I'll eat myself right on time.
Make your hats tall and shiny,
of black silk, perfect and fine,
but I am the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts,
superior to all, with no assigned line.
No thought in your mind
can escape from me.
Place me upon your head
and I'll tell where you should be.
Perhaps it's Gryffindor,
where courage fills the heart,
daring, spirit, and bravery
make it great in tradition and art.
Or Hufflepuff, fair and loyal,
where the patient are true,
hardworking, steady, and honest,
undaunted by the work they pursue.
If a sharp mind is your greatest gift,
Ravenclaw may be your home,
where the wise and intelligent
always have a place to roam.
Or perhaps Slytherin is your place,
where strong friendships you will make,
but the cunning and ambitious
will not hesitate to take or stake.
So come! Place me on your head!
Don't be afraid, you will not fall.
I'm safe—even without hands,
I'm a hat that can decide all!
When the Hat finished singing, the entire hall erupted in applause. It made a small bow to each of the four tables and then went still once more.
" So we just put this hat on? " Ron wrinkled his nose. " I'm going to kill Fred and George! They made me believe I was going to fight a troll! And I actually believed it! "
" Didn't your father trick you too, making you think you'd fight a giant eight-eyed spider? " Harry asked suddenly.
Ron hesitated.
" Well… that's completely unnecessary. "
Harry laughed, pleased to have provoked his friend.
At that moment, Professor McGonagall stepped forward again, holding a scroll.
She reached out, took the Sorting Hat by the tip, and lifted it high.
" Ah, don't treat the old fellow like that " complained the hat. " I'm old enough not to be shaken around like this! "
The students laughed.
Ignoring the complaint, Professor McGonagall announced:
" When I call your name, place the hat on your head, sit on the stool, and await your Sorting. "
Without looking at the list, she called:
" Hannah Abbott! "
A short girl with rosy cheeks and two golden braids stepped forward. The hat fell over her eyes as she placed it on her head and sat down.
A brief pause.
" Hufflepuff! "
The table on the right erupted in applause. Harry saw the Fat Friar wave cheerfully at her.
" Susan Bones! "
" Hufflepuff! "
Susan ran to sit beside Hannah.
" Terry Boot! "
" Ravenclaw! "
The second table on the left applauded warmly, and some students stood to shake Terry's hand.
" Justin Finch-Fletchley! "
" Hufflepuff! "
" Hermione Granger! "
" Go on, Hermione " Ron encouraged.
Hermione took a deep breath, hurried to the stool, took the hat from Professor McGonagall's hands, and placed it on her head.
" Gryffindor! "
Ron murmured with satisfaction.
" Neville Longbottom! "
Neville ran to the stool, tripping along the way. The Hat took a long time to decide, and when it finally shouted "Gryffindor," Neville completely forgot to return the hat, running off with it in his hands.
" Hey, boy! " protested the Sorting Hat. " Give the old hat back! The old hat likes you, but it doesn't like being taken away! "
Neville turned red as a beet and returned the hat amid laughter.
When Malfoy's name was called, he walked to the stool with an air of superiority. The hat barely touched his head before shouting:
" Slytherin! "
Malfoy joined Crabbe and Goyle, visibly pleased.
Few students remained.
Nott… Parkinson… the Patil twins… Sally-Anne Perks…
And then, finally—
" Harry Potter! "
Harry stood and walked slowly toward Professor McGonagall.
A murmur ran through the Hall, like the crackling of small flames.
" Potter?
" Is that the Harry Potter? "
After all, these children had grown up hearing stories about the Boy Who Lived. If Voldemort's name had scared them as little ones, Harry's name was the perfect lullaby.
All eyes turned toward him.
Harry stopped in front of the old hat and remembered the first time he had worn it—when it had insisted he go to Slytherin.
Would it try the same now?
Carefully, Harry took the hat from Professor McGonagall with both hands—the only one to do so—and thanked her politely.
A glimmer of tenderness crossed her eyes as she stepped back.
Harry sat on the stool and pulled the hat over his head.
" Huh? "
The Hat's voice echoed in his mind.
" How strange… am I getting old? " it murmured. " Didn't I just put you in a house? "
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