Merlin patiently waited for his turn, his gaze sweeping over the teachers' table.
Dumbledore sat in the center, wearing a soft and kind smile as he observed the sorting. He looked mostly like the ideal image Merlin had in his mind of him. Long silver beard and bright blue eyes, wearing a deep purple robe embroidered with faint patterns.
On the seat to his left sat Snape, donned in dark robes, with greasy hair and a scowl on his face as if everyone owed him money.
There was also the tiny Professor Flitwick, who looked like a three-year-old, the eccentric Sybill Trelawney, and the plump Professor Sprout.
There were others as well, but perhaps they didn't play any significant role in the movies, as Merlin didn't recognize them.
Fred leaned toward George. "If it's smart, it'll keep us apart."
"Can it even do that?" Lee whispered. "Or does it just… guess?"
"Lee Jordan," Professor McGonagall suddenly called out.
Lee straightened suddenly, the color draining from his face. "Right. My turn."
"Good luck," Merlin said.
Fred patted him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Unless it's allergic to hair gel."
George added, "Or loudmouths."
Lee shot them both a glare, took a breath, and walked up to the stool.
The hat dropped over his eyes, covering half his face. A few seconds passed, then—
"Gryffindor!"
Cheers once more erupted from the Gryffindor tables. Fred and George both whooped so loudly that all the nearby students couldn't help but turn to look in their direction. Lee smiled, relief washing over his face, and hurried over to join the table with red and gold banners.
Fred leaned toward Merlin. "One down."
George nodded. "One more to go."
Merlin remained silent. His hands rested loosely clasped before him, and while his face stayed composed, a faint knot had formed in his stomach.
In his previous life, he had read countless theories about how the Sorting Hat judged a student's traits and decided their house.
The most widely accepted idea was that it simply skimmed the surface of a person's mind, drawing conclusions from their thoughts.
Others went further, suggesting it could delve deeper—sifting through a student's memories themselves.
If it was the former, Merlin wasn't worried. He didn't know Occlumency, but controlling his thoughts for a few seconds was well within his ability.
But it was the latter that unsettled him.
Memories of a past life. Reincarnation. A doppelganger in another world with a unique telepathic connection.
Any one of his secrets would be enough to alarm the entire wizarding world!
If the hat snitched, he might be called to the Headmaster's office for tea on the very first day of school.
The line grew shorter as the minutes slipped by.
Each name called brought his turn one step closer.
Professor McGonagall's voice carried clearly through the hall as she called, "Angelina Johnson."
Another cheer for Gryffindor followed soon after.
Professor McGonagall glanced down at her parchment, then looked up. Her sharp eyes locked on him.
"Merlin Graves."
All the heads turned in his direction. Fred and George each gave him a quick pat on the shoulder.
"Good luck," they said in unison.
Merlin took a deep breath, walked forward, and quietly sat on the stool.
The hat was placed on his head.
"Hmm, very interesting," its voice sounded directly in his head. Unlike when it sang, this voice was unusually faint.
'Can you read my mind?' Merlin thought in his mind.
'Only what you're thinking right now,' the Hat replied. 'And you appear to be rather tense. A little afraid, too. And all of it seems to be because of… me?'
Merlin's heart eased slightly at its words. It was fine as long as it wasn't invading his memories.
'Ah,' the Hat said, a trace of amusement in its tone. 'There it is. You've relaxed. You're an unusual one, you know. Though I tend to like unusual minds.'
'Then how do you decide where someone belongs?' he asked, genuinely curious. 'Reading current thoughts alone doesn't seem very reliable.'
'They aren't,' it continued. 'Thoughts shift too easily. Fear, excitement, even expectation can twist them. What I perceive is magic itself. It is more honest than the mind. A person can lie to themselves, but their magic rarely does.'
Merlin blinked in confusion. What did that even mean? Just as he was about to ask further, the hat began speaking again.
'Now let's see,' it went on. 'Hmm. You could fit in many places. Loyalty, certainly. Wit, without question. Courage as well.'
There was a brief pause.
'And ambition,' it added. 'Very deeply hidden, but present nonetheless.'
'Not Slytherin!' Merlin thought firmly.
'Not Slytherin?' the Hat questioned. 'Hmm. No—no, I see why. A sensible reason. So then, between wit, courage, and loyalty.'
Merlin thought for a moment but couldn't give an affirmative answer. From a rational standpoint, neither was a bad choice for him. But Lee was already in Gryffindor, and the Weasley twins were destined to go there as well.
They could be said to be the first friends he had made in this world. And although they had only met for a short time, he had actually come to somewhat enjoy their company. Starting over in another house meant starting from square one.
'You already have an answer,' the Hat said. 'Don't you?'
Before Merlin could respond, the brim of the hat lifted and it announced loudly,
"Gryffindor!"
Applause burst across the hall.
Merlin lifted the hat from his head and handed it back to Professor McGonagall. As she accepted it, Merlin caught a look of quiet relief on her face, as if some invisible weight had been lifted off her shoulders.
Without lingering, Merlin turned and made his way toward the Gryffindor table.
As he approached, a few students seated near the front rose to greet him, offering handshakes and murmured welcomes. One of them stood out immediately—a tall, broad-shouldered boy with unmistakable red hair that immediately caught Merlin's attention.
"Welcome to Gryffindor," the boy said with an easy smile, gripping Merlin's hand. "You've already met Fred and George, right? I saw you talking earlier. I'm Charlie Weasley—their older brother. Sixth-year prefect."
He said it plainly, without a hint of pride, as though he were just stating a fact.
"If you run into any trouble at Hogwarts," Charlie added, "don't hesitate to ask me for help."
'Charlie Weasley?' Merlin blinked.
This one never showed in the movies, but if his memory served him right, he was the Weasley who worked at the dragon sanctuary in Romania.
'So he's still a student right now.'
"Thanks, Charlie," Merlin said with a grin. "I'll hold you to that. Don't pretend you don't know me later."
Charlie laughed. "Deal."
They exchanged a few more words before Merlin spotted Lee sitting farther down the table, waving enthusiastically at him.
Merlin made his way over and dropped into the empty seat beside him.
"I knew you'd end up in Gryffindor," Lee said, patting him on the back, his grin stretching ear to ear. "It suits you. Now all that's left is Fred and George."
"They'll be here," Merlin replied. "I'd be more surprised if they weren't."
"Same," a voice said from across the table.
Merlin and Lee looked up. The speaker was a freckled boy with neatly combed red hair and wire-rimmed glasses.
'Percy Weasley?' Merlin guessed.
The boy inclined his head. "Percy Weasley. Fred and George's older brother. Everyone in our family's been in Gryffindor so far, so it's more than likely they'd be sorted here as well."
Lee asked curiously, "They mentioned that on the train. Is it some sort of tradition?"
Percy nodded. "You could call it that."
A brief silence settled over the table, broken a moment later by Professor McGonagall's voice ringing out once more.
"Cedric Diggory!"
Merlin turned at the name and watched as a tall boy strode forward with confidence, taking his seat on the stool as the hat was placed on his head.
Another canon character Merlin could clearly recall. With dark hair, sharp features, and a lean yet well-built frame, it was no wonder he was famous for his looks in the series.
"Hufflepuff!" the Sorting Hat announced loudly.
The sorting ceremony continued.
Just as he had expected, the Weasley twins were indeed sorted into Gryffindor, and they were also the last two.
After that, the sorting ceremony came to an end. Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment and left with the Sorting Hat.
Dumbledore stood up.
The hall quieted almost at once.
"Welcome, everyone," he began, warmly spreading his arms. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our feast, I would like to say a few words."
Curious murmurs rose around Merlin. Then Dumbledore added, with the same gentle calm, "Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
For a heartbeat, there was silence—then the hall burst into applause. Merlin laughed and joined in, clapping along with the rest. Hearing the famous opening speech in person had an odd charm to it.
Lee leaned closer, lowering his voice. "What does that even mean?"
"I have no idea," Merlin said honestly.
Lee frowned. "Then why are you clapping?"
Merlin shot him a sideways look. "A speech that short? Doesn't that alone deserve applause?"
Lee paused, then his face brightened as if a revelation had struck him. "You're right. It does deserve applause."
He immediately began clapping again, even harder than before.
"Alright," Dumbledore said, lifting his spoon and lightly tapping his goblet. "Let the feast begin."
In an instant, the long tables of the four houses filled to the brim with food—roasted meats, steaming pies, bowls of vegetables, fresh bread, and sweets beyond counting—earning gasps from the first-years who were seeing such a spectacle for the first time.
But hunger won out quickly. Faced with so much food, most of them cared far more about eating than questioning how the Headmaster had done it.
And with that, the feast began!