His voice was so soft that, even in the silent Headmaster's Office, it was almost inaudible. Aside from Tom, who stood beside him, no one else noticed he had spoken.
Dumbledore had done it on purpose. The thought of his sister returning to him in "good health" filled him with joy, yet the old man's pride—honed over a century—demanded subtlety.
If only Tom had been present, Dumbledore might have openly thanked him. But revealing his heart before Ariana and McGonagall was a different matter. Better they don't notice, he thought, a faint sigh escaping him. (´-ω-)`
Hearing the old man's hoarse voice, Tom turned and noticed the glimmer in the eyes behind the half-moon spectacles. For a moment, he said nothing; instead, he lifted Dumbledore's hand and placed it gently atop his own head.
"(￣ω￣) Considering how special today is, this gracious kitty will make an exception and let you pet my head! Normally, that privilege is reserved for Luna alone!"
"Hah… are you trying to comfort me?" Dumbledore asked, a faint smile tugging at his lips.
"Still," Tom replied, "let's find another way in the future. After all, you're no one's pet now—you're my Headmaster and I'm your student, part of Hogwarts."
Tom was about to continue when Professor McGonagall's voice cut through the quiet.
"Headmaster, we may begin the Sorting Ceremony."
"Very well."
Dumbledore instantly steadied himself; the moisture in his eyes vanished, and his usual composure returned.
"Then, Minerva, please conduct this rather belated Sorting Ceremony for these two special students."
Professor McGonagall nodded, and from seemingly nowhere, a battered Sorting Hat appeared atop a chair in the center of the office.
Once seated, the Hat wriggled to settle itself, then split open and began to sing:
Though I'm tattered, do not despise,
The ancient magic of Hogwarts lies
Within each stitch before your eyes.
I see the secrets that you keep,
From living soul to phantom's sleep;
Even a Cat's strange thoughts run deep,
All are revealed where secrets seep.
Brave Gryffindor prizes your daring heart,
Where heroes face peril from the start;
If courage burns in every part,
You'll find in them your truest heart.
Hufflepuff values loyalty strong,
Friendship there outlives life's song;
If toil to you does not seem long,
Here warmest welcomes will belong.
Should knowledge be your heart's desire,
Ravenclaw will lift your mind higher;
High within the tower's spire,
The wise find friends to inspire.
Slytherin welcomes ambition's fire,
Cunning and wit they admire;
Deep beneath the lake's cold mire,
You'll rise through deeds that raise you higher.
Come, on this night so rare,
Place me upon your hair;
One hat, two souls we bear,
Breaking every barrier.
Ghost or Cat, without a care,
I'll find where you belong,
Within this magic strong!
Tom's mouth twitched. As the Hat sang, he recalled Ron's complaint from the original story—about how the Hat supposedly took a year to compose a song. Now, watching it improvise effortlessly, Tom thought, (￣ω￣;) Maybe it really can create a song on the spot!
While Tom's mind wandered, McGonagall stepped forward. Her expression was solemn, as though it were the Start-of-Term Feast.
"Ariana Dumbledore," she said, watching the girl tense, "please come forward, place the Hat on your head, and sit on the chair."
"O-okay…" Ariana answered, her voice hesitant.
Though she approached, her form was rigid, ghostly outlines taut with anxiety. She reached out for the Sorting Hat—but her hand passed straight through it.
Everyone froze. In the excitement of seeing her solid and colorful like a living person, they had forgotten that ghosts cannot touch solid objects.
"(;´д｀)ゞ What do we do now?" Ariana asked, trying two more times before looking at Tom in bewilderment. Was her life at Hogwarts over before it had even begun?
"Perhaps I could simply place her—" Dumbledore began, but the Hat shrieked him down.
"No! Absolutely not! The Founders entrusted me with this sacred duty! For a thousand years, every student has been Sorted by my hand! I will not allow anyone to skip this rite!"
"The Hat is right, Headmaster," McGonagall agreed. "In all these centuries, it has never made a mistake."
"But…" Dumbledore hesitated. Though he was one of the greatest wizards alive, he had never studied soul magic. He had no method to allow a ghost to interact with something solid.
Tom stepped forward cautiously. "If you only need her to touch the Hat… maybe I can help."
"You (´･_･`) ?" McGonagall asked skeptically. She had seen Tom enter a portrait world, cure an obscurus, and move between frames—yet this was a first-year, barely familiar with the Wizarding World. Could he really solve a problem that had baffled centuries of wizards?
"Are you certain you can manage it?" she pressed.
Tom shrugged with a confident air. "Not really. I haven't tested any of those thousand-odd methods. I don't know if they'll work. But I can try."
McGonagall stared at him, noting his determined expression. She recalled how he had dealt with an obscurus and stepped back.
"Since Tom says so, let him try," Dumbledore said, his tone calm. He had witnessed miracles at Tom's paws before; perhaps this was another.
"All right, I'm starting," Tom warned Ariana. "Whatever happens next, don't overreact. Relax. As long as you don't demolish the office, destroy the Hat, or hurt Ariana, I'll accept any outcome."
Dumbledore gave a magnanimous wave. "Very well. Proceed."
Tom circled the chair, eyes on the ghostly girl. Ariana trembled, but trust shone in her spectral gaze. He placed a paw lightly near her form, whispering softly. "Focus on yourself. Feel your presence. Not as a ghost, not as a memory—you, here and now."
Ariana blinked, and something remarkable happened. Her arm began to shimmer, a faint golden outline solidifying, until her hand—careful, deliberate—touched the Sorting Hat.
The Hat vibrated, startled, then hummed in recognition. "Well… this is new. Ghost interaction with solid objects is unprecedented—but intriguing. I accept."
Ariana gasped. Her outline solidified completely. For the first time, she looked like herself, alive and tangible.
Tom chuckled softly. "See? Nothing impossible if you try it the right way."
The Sorting Hat wiggled as Ariana sat, adjusting to fit snugly atop her head. Its voice, calm and wise, echoed in her mind.
"Hmmm… unusual. A curious blend of spirit and heart. Courage, loyalty, intellect, ambition—all swirl within you. Difficult choice…"
Ariana's mind raced. She had always admired her brother's cleverness, valued kindness, and longed for courage to face her fears. The Hat sensed it all.
Finally, the Hat spoke aloud. "Gryffindor! Bravery and heart will guide you."
Ariana smiled, relief washing over her. She removed the Hat, which floated back to its chair.
"Congratulations, Ariana," Dumbledore said softly, pride in his voice. "You have joined the House of your spirit."
Tom leaned against the wall, a satisfied grin on his face. "Not bad for a first attempt, huh?"
McGonagall shook her head, both exasperated and impressed. "Extraordinary, but… I must admit, that was an elegant solution."
Ariana's laughter, light and musical, filled the office. For the first time, she truly felt at home at Hogwarts—not a ghost in limbo, but a student ready to explore the wonders of the Wizarding World.
Dumbledore watched silently, heart full. Even after a century, Hogwarts still had surprises that could touch his heart. And tonight, a new chapter began—for Ariana, for Tom, and for the magical school he had loved for so long.
The Sorting Ceremony complete, the office hummed with magic and promise. Every student—living or spectral—had a place, and every heart had room to grow.
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