The Sorting Hat's words made Harry's heart tighten.
"Oh no… had it discovered me?""Really?" Harry asked, feigning composure, neither confirming nor denying.
"Yes, the Sorting Hat never makes mistakes," the old hat said confidently. "I remember you. Last time you were sorted, I even advised Slytherin, but you insisted on Gryffindor."
If nothing unexpected happened, Harry wouldn't mind going to Slytherin. The thing is, while applying for a scholarship, he had spent some time alone with Phineas Black.
When they came out, he asked Deputy Headmaster Weasley which house Director Black had belonged to.
"Slytherin," Weasley answered.
Harry made up his mind immediately. Even if he tried to back out, he would not go to Slytherin!
"And this time, are you still going to advise me to go to Slytherin?" Harry asked.
"I can't believe someone who dared to drink Polyjuice Potion and become a headmaster would be in Slytherin!" the Sorting Hat said, laughing. "You can't imagine Phineas's face back then… he was furious! You even ensured the Great Hall flew the Gryffindor banner, though Phineas quickly revoked the order."
At that moment, the old hat seemed to realize something.
"Wow… time is truly an amazing kind of magic. I can't believe you've returned to being eleven years old. But don't worry, the old hat will keep your secret."
"Really?" Harry was skeptical.
"Since my creation, I've never revealed a single secret about a young wizard," the Sorting Hat said firmly, "not even that big problem that gave Albus such a headache."
Harry was willing to trust the Sorting Hat's integrity. After all, if it revealed secrets, Voldemort surely would have appeared at Hogwarts sooner.
"So, which house do you advise me to join this time?" he asked mentally.
"No one betrays their house, right?" the Sorting Hat chuckled. "Without a doubt, you belong in Gryffindor."
"Then what are we waiting for? Announce the Sorting results! I'm ready!" said Harry, impatient under everyone's gaze.
"This really breaks my heart, little one," lamented the Sorting Hat. "Old friends should reunite, yet you're so eager to be rid of me. It's truly sad."
"You have feelings too?" Harry asked, surprised.
"I think I've changed my mind… you should go to Azkaban," replied the Sorting Hat, with a hint of mischief.
"Ah, sorry!" Harry hurriedly apologized, jokingly, but certainly not wanting to be sent to Azkaban.
"What year did that headmaster enroll? Why don't I remember him?" Harry asked.
"If I'm not mistaken, he enrolled the same year you were in seventh year," the Sorting Hat recalled. "Phineas said you were missing, so it's normal that you don't recognize him. And as for seeing your younger peer become headmaster… do your feelings get complicated?"
"A little," admitted Harry, "but I never met the headmaster as a child, so it doesn't feel strange."
"Haha! You should have seen young Albus," said the hat with a mischievous tone."Really? Which house is he in?""Without a doubt, Gryffindor," it replied cheerfully.
Harry nodded, understanding, and spoke with the Sorting Hat for some time.
"It's a pleasure to remember the old times with an old friend," the hat finally said. "In return, I've prepared a special Sorting Ceremony for you."
"What is it?" Harry asked, curious.
The Sorting Hat didn't answer. Before he could speak, Harry felt something hard hit his head. He removed the hat and found the hilt of a sword. Curious, he grasped it, drawing a magnificent silver sword with a clang.
"Without a doubt! Gryffindor!" shouted the Sorting Hat from his hand.
The Great Hall fell silent. After a long pause, enthusiastic applause erupted from the tables of the three houses, except Slytherin.
"We've got Potter! We've got Potter!" shouted the Weasley twins, climbing onto their benches.
Harry turned to the teachers' table. Hagrid was clapping frantically; Dumbledore smiled and waved; the well-groomed professor looked on with a touch of disdain. McGonagall, beside him, seemed radiant.
"Professor, this?" Harry held the Sorting Hat in one hand and the Gryffindor sword in the other.
"I accept, Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, taking the hat and sword to hand them to Dumbledore.
"I really didn't expect you to organize the Sorting this way, Albus," she said softly.
Dumbledore looked surprised for a moment, then replied:
"No, Minerva, you'll understand later. The Headmaster has no right to interfere with the Sorting results, let alone command the Sorting Hat."
As Harry walked to the Gryffindor table, everyone stood to offer congratulations. He sat to Hermione's left; across from him was a boy with glasses and a refined air.
"Percy, Percy Weasley," the boy introduced himself, extending his hand.
Harry shook it, realizing this must be the prefect Rony mentioned.
"Hello, Percy," Harry greeted, smiling.
At that moment, McGonagall called Rony's name.
"He's my brother, my younger brother," Percy whispered to Harry.
"Gryffindor!" shouted the Sorting Hat.
Rony walked over, sat down, and sighed in relief.
"Well done, Rony, well done!" Percy exclaimed dramatically."That really scared me; I thought I'd be sorted into Slytherin," said Rony, still shaken.
Harry smiled at him:
"Then Slytherin will have a great wizard."
Rony rolled his eyes.
"Ah, shut up, Harry. You sound just like my mother."
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