As Harry followed the line of first-years into the Great Hall, he found himself almost speechless with shock. It wasn't because the Great Hall of Hogwarts was magnificent—although it certainly was, with thousands of candles floating serenely in midair and a ceiling enchanted to resemble a star-filled sky. Those wonders barely registered. What truly stunned him was seeing Vinson seated at the teachers' table, smiling calmly as though he belonged there.
Harry rubbed his eyes, convinced he had imagined it.
What… what on earth was going on?
Vinson noticed Harry standing frozen among the students. A brief flash of satisfaction crossed his eyes, the exact reaction he seemed to have hoped for. He raised a finger to his lips with a playful shush gesture, signaling Harry not to say anything.
Harry stared at him, bewildered.
"What's wrong with you?" Ron whispered behind him, nudging him forward when Harry didn't move. "Hurry up, the line's moving!"
Snapped out of his daze, Harry realized he had fallen behind the boy ahead of him and quickly shuffled forward. Even though every part of him wanted to rush to Vinson and demand an explanation, he knew it was absolutely not the right moment. All he could do was stay in line and wait.
At last, Professor McGonagall arranged the first-years in a neat row facing the older students. Vinson's gaze swept over the crowd of students and professors, though most eyes in the room were fixed on one person—Harry Potter.
It couldn't be helped. Harry was the Boy Who Lived, the child who had defeated the legendary Dark Lord. Everyone wanted to see him with their own eyes.
Harry felt the weight of all those stares and sent a pleading glance toward Vinson, silently begging for help. But Vinson could only offer a reassuring smile. He certainly couldn't tell an entire Great Hall full of witches and wizards to stop looking.
Still, even that small smile eased Harry's nerves.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward carrying a four-legged stool. She set it down and placed the ancient, battered Sorting Hat atop it. The sight made Vinson pause. On a whim, he called upon the Tree of Wisdom to analyze the hat.
"Eldera."
[Name: Sorting Hat]
[Introduction: Alchemical Product]
...
That was all. Vinson sighed a little in disappointment. With its current capabilities, the Tree of Wisdom could only identify the Sorting Hat as an alchemical construct, but could not tell him anything else—neither its materials nor the method of its creation.
However, the moment Vinson attempted to analyze it, the Sorting Hat suddenly twitched. It shifted left and right as if sensing something unusual and muttered aloud, "I feel like someone is watching me."
"Everyone is watching you, Mr. Sorting Hat," Professor McGonagall reminded it dryly.
"Hm… yes, yes, fair enough," the Hat replied, pursing its nonexistent lips. "Still, I've far more important things to do. I've been waiting for this day for quite some time."
Then the hat burst into song.
The melody was familiar to Vinson, but the lyrics were entirely new.
You may think I'm not pretty,
But never judge a book by its cover…
Vinson couldn't help admiring it. The Sorting Hat had been doing this for over a thousand years—composing a new song each and every year. Truly remarkable.
When the song ended, the Hat bowed to each of the four tables to loud applause. With the ceremonial introduction over, the true Sorting could finally begin.
Professor McGonagall unrolled a long parchment—the list of new Hogwarts students.
"When I call your name," she announced, "you will put on the hat, sit on the stool, and await your sorting."
"Hannah Abbott!"
A rosy-cheeked girl with two golden braids hurried forward. Harry watched, fascinated, and finally understood that the Sorting Ceremony simply involved wearing a talking hat. The realization washed relief through him. Vinson had refused to explain anything beforehand, claiming tradition. Harry had half-convinced himself that he would need to duel a monster as an entrance exam. That fear had driven him to memorize far more spells than a first-year should know.
At last the Sorting Hat shouted Hannah Abbott's house.
"Hufflepuff!"
The students at the Hufflepuff table applauded. Vinson's clap was noticeably the loudest. As a proud Hufflepuff alumnus, he welcomed every new addition with genuine enthusiasm.
"Susan Bones!"
"Terry Boot!"
One by one, names were called and children were sorted, and Vinson applauded politely for each. Whenever another Hufflepuff student joined his house, he clapped with even more gusto.
Then the moment everyone was waiting for arrived.
"Harry Potter!"
The whispers swelled instantly. As Harry stepped forward, he could feel hundreds of eyes fixed on him—curiosity, excitement, awe. His stomach tightened, and he instinctively glanced toward Vinson.
Vinson lifted one corner of his mouth in a subtle smile and silently mouthed a single word:
"Hufflepuff."
Hufflepuff?
Harry blinked. That was Vinson's house. The idea of being in his teacher's house was… actually rather comforting. As long as it wasn't Slytherin, he didn't really care where he went.
Lost in thought, he suddenly realized he had reached the stool. He took a deep breath, sat down, and felt the old hat descend over his head.
A voice echoed inside his mind.
"Hmmm… Difficult, very difficult indeed."
Harry tensed.
"Courage, kindness, a good mind, impressive talent… You do not lack any of these qualities. Very interesting. So then—where to put you?"
It paused.
"Ah, you're considering Hufflepuff? A respectable house. But you would do well—very well—in Slytherin, you know…"
Harry's heart jumped in alarm. He repeated fiercely in his mind, Not Slytherin, not Slytherin!
"Oh? Not Slytherin?" the Hat mused. "Very well. I always respect the wishes of young wizards."
Then it shouted to the hall:
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted with cheers. Harry let out a long breath of relief. Gryffindor was fine—good, even. When the hat had suggested Slytherin, he had nearly panicked. Anything but that.
Up at the staff table, Vinson exhaled faintly. He was a little disappointed; he had hoped Harry might be tricked into joining Hufflepuff. But ultimately the Sorting Hat always placed students where they truly belonged, and there was no denying that Gryffindor suited Harry perfectly.
Harry walked toward his new house table amid the cheers. Yet he hardly noticed the students pounding the table and clapping him on the back. His eyes immediately sought out Vinson.
Only when he spotted his teacher's warm, approving smile did Harry's shoulders finally relax, the tightness in his chest easing.
Tonight, everything would be different.
Tonight, he belonged to Hogwarts.
FOR MORE CHAPTERS
patreon.com/STEPHENHART427