"The hat's smoking!" Harry exclaid.
Every teacher and student in the Great Hall turned their eyes to the Sorting Hat. Sure enough, wisps of white smoke were curling from the tattered gray-brown brim.
"rlin's beard, is the Sorting Hat finally broken?!" a fifth-year shouted.
"It's not fair! Why do future first-years get to skip wearing this ratty old thing?" another older student whined, half-joking, half-outraged.
"Who's that kid? He's crashed the Sorting Hat!" a Ravenclaw girl whispered excitedly.
"Aw, he's cute. Wonder which house he'll end up in?" a Hufflepuff giggled.
The unsorted first-years stood frozen, wide-eyed. If the hat was broken, where would they go?
A stocky, flat-topped boy turned pale, his voice trembling. "Malfoy, if we can't get sorted, they won't… expel us, will they?"
Beside him, a slender boy with pale blonde hair and sharp gray eyes sneered. "Crabbe, how do you even co up with such a stupid question? Don't you know who my father is?"
Draco Malfoy—son of Lucius Malfoy, head of the Malfoy family and a Hogwarts governor. As if the son of a governor would be kicked out.
Draco's gaze settled on Lucien, who stood center stage. He'd thought Harry Potter, the legendary Boy Who Lived, would be the only one worth his attention this year—maybe even worthy of being his friend. But now, this Lucien Grafton was stealing the spotlight. Interesting. Draco made a ntal note to get to know him.
Grafton, though… Is that a pure-blood na?
Professor McGonagall, a decades-long veteran of Hogwarts, had never seen the Sorting Hat act like this. She glanced back at Dumbledore for guidance.
But Dumbledore just stroked his beard, his eyes twinkling as he watched Lucien. In his century-plus of life, most of it spent at Hogwarts, he'd seen countless students sorted. Never had one stumped the Hat for over ten minutes. The poor thing was practically overheating—smoke and all.
McGonagall had already briefed Dumbledore on Lucien's extraordinary magical talent, and he'd been eager to et the boy. Now, without even a proper conversation, Dumbledore could see Lucien was special.
The Sorting Hat, once belonging to Godric Gryffindor and imbued with the wisdom of all four founders, could peer into a young witch or wizard's mind, pinpoint their strongest qualities, and match them to a house. But Lucien? He was taking so long, pushing the Hat to its limits. That could only an one thing: his qualities and talents were so abundant, so exceptional, that even the Hat couldn't decide.
Only those with vivid traits and brilliant potential could go far—maybe even change the wizarding world. Dumbledore wondered what mix of qualities was tripping up the Hat so badly. He made a note to ask it later.
Catching McGonagall's questioning look, he shook his head slightly. No need to worry.
anwhile, Lucien, the center of all this attention, was deep in his ntal world, trying to reason with the Sorting Hat.
"Look, Hat, don't stress yourself out. It's not that you're not up to the task—maybe you're just having an off day?"
In his mind's eye, a translucent version of the Sorting Hat flailed about. "No!" it snapped. "I never sort a young wizard into the wrong house! Never!"
Lucien bit back a retort. Really? Never? What about Peter Pettigrew? A traitor, a coward, a filthy rat—sorted into Gryffindor? But he held his tongue. No need to push the Hat into a full ltdown.
"Even though you're Muggle-born, your talent is unlike anything I've seen in my long hat-life," the Sorting Hat muttered. "And that ambition… a hunger for power. Slytherin!"
"No, wait," it corrected itself. "Your ambition is more about knowledge—pursuing it relentlessly. In the wizarding world, knowledge is power. Ravenclaw!"
"But hold on," it backtracked again. "You've got courage in spades, fearless in exploring the unknown. Gryffindor!"
Lucien stopped responding. The Hat was arguing with itself now.
"And yet," it rambled on, "your tireless dedication to learning, your patience and effort… Hufflepuff!"
Yup, it had just contradicted itself again. Lucien half-expected the Hat to split into four versions and start brawling.
This is taking too long, he thought. I've got books to read and spells to practice. He wasn't about to let a hat waste his whole evening.
"Alright, let's make this easy," Lucien said. "Just put in Ravenclaw."
Having listened to the Hat's rambling and drawing on his knowledge of the books, Lucien had a clear picture of the houses. Gryffindor was all about bravery, but it was also a magnet for trouble—way too chaotic. Slytherin? Sure, they were cunning and ambitious, but too many were obsessed with pure-blood nonsense. Lucien could teach those snobs that blood status was just a shiny, useless badge in the face of real power—but that would an more drama, and he wanted to avoid that.
He needed ti to study, to master magic—especially Transfiguration, which he had to perfect in a year. That left Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, the quieter houses that let Gryffindor and Slytherin hog the spotlight.
Hufflepuff, with its kind-hearted badgers, seed peaceful enough, but Ravenclaw? Those sharp-witted eagles lived in a hyper-competitive nest, always pushing to outdo each other. Lucien loved that kind of environnt. Outsmarting others, challenging himself—it was his kind of fun.
The Sorting Hat fell silent. After a long pause, it finally spoke. "You're right. It makes sense!"
Back in the Great Hall, the Hat's brim split wide, its voice booming louder than ever. "RAVENCLAW!"
Support by leaving a comnt, voting, and visiting myPatr-eon at ilham20
User Comments
0 comments from readers