As Hannah Abbott nervously shuffled up to the Sorting Hat, the ancient relic let out a dramatic sigh that somehow carried across the entire hall.
"Ah, another bright young mind! Let's see... Kind, loyal, determined... Oh, you'll do just fine."
Hannah swallowed hard. "Uh… please don't drop me into the lake."
The Hat chuckled. "Oh, don't worry, my dear. That only happens when I'm feeling particularly mischievous."
Hannah let out a strangled squeak, her eyes darting toward the enchanted ceiling as if estimating how far she'd have to fall if the hat decided to yeet her through a trapdoor.
Meanwhile, back in the line, Harry leaned toward Tonks, whispering, "I give her five seconds before she faints."
Tonks smirked. "You're being generous."
Susan rolled her eyes. "You two are terrible."
Daphne crossed her arms, watching the scene unfold with an amused expression. "We're just being honest."
Tracey, ever the troublemaker, added, "You know, if she passes out, does that mean the Hat automatically picks Hufflepuff? Like, default settings?"
Neville frowned. "Is that… how it works?"
Ron, still looking like he might bolt at any second, muttered, "I don't care what happens, as long as I don't end up fighting Peeves."
Harry snorted. "Oh, don't worry, Weasley. If you have to duel Peeves, just challenge him to a rap battle. That should get you out of it."
Ron blinked. "Peeves raps?"
"Oh, yeah," Tonks said, deadpan. "He drops diss tracks on the Bloody Baron all the time."
Before Ron could spiral into another round of panic, the Hat finally made its decision.
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
The Hufflepuff table erupted in cheers as Hannah practically ripped the Hat off her head and sprinted toward her housemates like she'd just survived a near-death experience.
Susan gave a dramatic sniff. "They grow up so fast."
Tonks nodded sagely. "And just like that, we've lost her to the land of badgers and unbreakable friendships."
Tracey smirked. "She'll be fine. Probably. Unless the Hat got it wrong and she was meant to be in Slytherin."
Daphne arched an eyebrow. "Can the Hat get it wrong?"
Harry shrugged. "Dunno, but if I end up in Hufflepuff, I'm demanding a recount."
Ron gave him a horrified look. "You can do that?!"
Before Harry could answer, McGonagall called the next name, and the Sorting continued, each first-year stepping forward with a mixture of excitement and terror while the chaos among Harry and his friends only escalated.
—
McGonagall adjusted her spectacles, scanning the list before calling out the next name. Her voice rang through the Great Hall with the authority of someone who had absolutely zero patience for first-year nonsense.
"Bones, Susan!"
Susan took a deep breath, squared her shoulders, and strode forward like a general leading a charge. Her red hair gleamed under the floating candlelight, and she cast a dramatic glance over her shoulder at the assembled chaos gremlins she called friends.
"Well, wish me luck. If I don't make it out, tell my aunt I died heroically."
Harry placed a hand over his heart. "We'll hold a grand feast in your honor."
Tonks sniffled, clutching her chest. "Gone too soon. Another victim claimed by the cursed Sorting Hat."
Tracey shook her head solemnly. "You hate to see it. The Hat's hunger for souls knows no bounds."
Neville frowned. "Wait, is that a thing? Does the Hat… eat people?"
Daphne smirked. "It's best you don't ask questions you don't want the answers to."
Ron groaned. "You lot are making this worse."
Susan shot them a wink before plopping onto the stool, yanking the Hat onto her head with an air of determination. The moment it settled, the voice echoed in her mind.
"Ah, a Bones," the Hat mused. "Always a fascinating bunch. Let's see... brave, loyal, intelligent. A sharp wit. Could do well in Ravenclaw... but that unyielding sense of justice—that's a mark of a Hufflepuff if I ever saw one."
Susan smirked internally. "Obviously. But quick question—what's your return policy?"
"No exchanges, I'm afraid."
"Okay, but if I wanted a refund—"
"Still no."
"Store credit?"
"You're stalling."
Susan sighed. "Fine, fine. Stick me where I belong."
"Very well—HUFFLEPUFF!"
The Hufflepuff table exploded into cheers as Susan hopped off the stool, executing a flawless finger-gun salute at Harry and Tonks before sauntering over to her new housemates.
Tonks let out an exaggerated gasp. "She took that way too well. No panic? No existential crisis? What a waste."
Tracey shook her head. "I was expecting at least a little screaming. Maybe a dramatic faint."
Daphne smirked. "She is Susan Bones. She probably had three contingency plans for every possible outcome."
Neville was still staring at the Hat warily. "I don't trust it. It's holding back."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "You're saying it's got more in the tank?"
Neville nodded gravely. "Always."
Before Harry could launch into one of his savage burns, McGonagall's voice rang through the hall again, and the Sorting continued.
"Boot, Terry!"
And just like that, the first-years were only getting more chaotic.
—
McGonagall adjusted her glasses with the air of someone who had been dealing with first-years for far too long and had already run out of patience. She let the murmurs settle before announcing the next name.
"Davis, Tracey!"
Tracey cracked her neck like she was stepping into a boxing ring and strolled toward the stool with the kind of swagger that suggested she was about to make the Sorting Hat regret every life choice that led to this moment. She plopped onto the stool, arms crossed, smirking as the Hat was placed on her head.
"Ah," the Sorting Hat mused. "Tracey Davis. Clever. Ambitious. Sharp as a dagger and twice as quick to stab back. And—oh my, what's this? A streak of chaos a mile wide."
Tracey hummed thoughtfully. "Only a mile? Tch, I need to step up my game."
The Hat chuckled. "Indeed. Now, where to put you? Slytherin would embrace your cunning, but Ravenclaw might appreciate your quick wit."
"Hmm, tempting. But I feel like I'd end up hexing a professor for docking points over 'impertinent questions.'"
"You say that as if it wouldn't be deserved."
"Fair point. Alright, Hat, let's be real—Slytherin's the obvious choice, isn't it?"
"Yes, indeed. Then it had better be—SLYTHERIN!"
Tracey hopped off the stool with a triumphant grin, flicking her hair over her shoulder as she sauntered over to the Slytherin table, but on the way Daphne, who was still waiting in line, was already slow clapping.
"Took you long enough. Did you try and bribe the Hat?"
"Pfft. Please. I was trying to get a two-for-one deal. You know, cross-House membership. Equal-opportunity chaos."
Back in line, Tonks nudged Harry. "Five Sickles says she tried to negotiate with the Hat."
Harry shook his head. "Nah, I'd bet she asked if she could get a refund if the House wasn't to her liking."
Ron looked deeply disturbed. "Wait. You can do that?!"
Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "No, Ron. That's not how Sorting works."
Neville, still eyeing the Hat warily, mumbled, "But what if someone was so equally split between two Houses that they just—"
Tonks snapped her fingers. "Boom. House hybrid. Imagine the chaos."
Daphne arched an eyebrow. "I hate how much sense that makes."
Susan, from the Hufflepuff table, called over, "Oi! If that were possible, I'd totally be a Gryffinpuff. Best of both worlds."
Harry smirked. "I dunno, Susan. You seem way too put-together to be a Gryffindor."
Susan gasped in mock offense. "Excuse you! I am an agent of controlled chaos, thank you very much."
Tonks made a grand gesture. "We are gathered here today to mourn the tragic fate of Susan Bones, who fell victim to the Sorting Hat's tyranny."
Tracey, from the Slytherin table, called out, "At least she didn't get a defective one like Weasley over there."
Ron scowled. "Oi!"
—
McGonagall adjusted her glasses, scanning the list with the precision of someone who had no patience for nonsense. With her usual crisp delivery, she called, "Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione inhaled sharply, squared her shoulders like a general marching into battle, and strode forward with the sheer determination of someone who was about to argue themselves into a full-ride scholarship.
"There she goes," Tonks muttered, elbowing Harry. "Off to single-handedly reform the entire school by Monday."
Susan, lounging with the confidence of someone who knew she could get away with murder if she smiled hard enough, smirked. "If she doesn't combust from stress first."
Harry, arms crossed, tilted his head. "Nah, Hermione's built different. She probably already has the entire Hogwarts syllabus memorized."
Ron blinked. "Wait, there's a syllabus?"
Neville sighed. "Ron, mate, for the love of Merlin—"
Meanwhile, Hermione had reached the stool, looking as if she was mentally preparing a TED Talk on the theoretical flaws of the Sorting system. The moment the Hat touched her head, it let out an amused hum.
"Ah, Miss Granger! Bright, inquisitive, fiercely determined. No doubt you would do well in—"
"Ravenclaw, right?" Hermione interrupted, vibrating with barely contained energy.
The Hat chuckled. "You would thrive in Ravenclaw, no question. But... I sense something else. A fire. A drive to act, not just to know."
Hermione frowned. "But isn't Ravenclaw the House for the intelligent?"
"Oh, my dear, intelligence exists in all Houses. It is how one uses it that matters. You, Miss Granger, are a force of nature. You seek knowledge, yes, but more than that—you seek to make a difference."
Hermione considered this, then nodded slowly. "Alright. Let's do this."
The Hat practically beamed. "Excellent choice—GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted into cheers, and Hermione exhaled as if she had just defused a bomb. She carefully removed the Hat, muttering a polite "thank you," and made her way to her new Housemates, looking both pleased and already plotting her five-year plan for academic domination.
Back in line, Harry nudged Neville. "See? No dramatic breakdown. No bargaining. She just walked up and aced getting Sorted."
Neville huffed. "Only Hermione could treat a magical talking Hat like an academic advisor."
Daphne, lounging with a practiced ease, arched an eyebrow. "She almost negotiated her way into a different House. That takes talent."
Tracey snickered. "Bet you five Sickles she starts writing an essay on the ethics of Sorting before the month is over."
Tonks leaned in conspiratorially. "Forget that. Ten Sickles says she figures out how to break into the Restricted Section by Christmas."
Harry smirked. "Oh, she's already working on a plan. Trust me."
Susan, from the Hufflepuff table, called out, "Oi! Who else thinks the Hat is just making it up as it goes?"
Ron looked horrified. "Wait, what if it can be bribed?!"
Neville paled. "Oh no. What if the Hat is just Hogwarts' version of a used car salesman?"
Tracey cackled. "Imagine if it had a commission. 'Ah yes, another fine Gryffindor! That'll be 20 Galleons, Minerva.'"
Daphne smirked. "What if it's rigged? Slytherin's been on a losing streak for years, and Dumbledore keeps stacking Gryffindor like it's his fantasy Quidditch league."
Hannah, wide-eyed, clutched her Sorting Hat Conspiracy Chart (which was increasingly elaborate). "You're telling me this hat—this ancient, sentient piece of headwear—just... decides based on a vibe?"
Tonks grinned. "I think it has a secret fifth House. For the absolute disasters."
Susan nodded sagely. "Hogwarts' underground fight club. House Chaos. No rules. Just vibes."
Harry, fighting a smirk, clapped Ron on the shoulder. "Relax, mate. If it could be bribed, Malfoy would've come in holding a checkbook."
Ron snorted, then froze. "Wait. What if Malfoy actually did bribe it?"
Before anyone could spiral further into madness, McGonagall's voice sliced through the growing hysteria. "Goyle, Gregory!"
—
McGonagall adjusted her glasses, scanning the list with the precision of a woman who had no patience for nonsense. "Greengrass, Daphne."
The blonde girl exhaled like this entire event was beneath her, flipping her hair over her shoulder in a move that screamed 'bored royalty' before striding up to the stool. She moved with the kind of grace that made it look like she floated rather than walked—probably because she'd been trained since birth to treat the floor as an inconvenience.
Tonks, leaning forward with a grin, elbowed Harry. "That is the confidence of a girl who has never been told 'no' in her entire life."
Harry smirked. "That's the confidence of someone who has never had to negotiate with goblins."
Susan, sipping her pumpkin juice with a terrifyingly self-satisfied expression, hummed. "Or deal with a Hufflepuff grandmother. Trust me, we are a terrifying breed."
Neville shuddered. "No need to remind me."
Daphne, utterly unfazed by the weight of tradition, crossed her legs at the ankles like she was sitting in a throne instead of an old wooden stool. The Sorting Hat barely touched her head before it hummed in appreciation.
"Ah, Miss Greengrass," the Hat murmured. "Sharp mind, refined tastes, strategic to the bone… and a rather sophisticated grasp of power dynamics."
Daphne tilted her chin slightly. "Flattery will get you everywhere."
The Hat chuckled. "Oh, I see. You've already made up your mind, haven't you?"
"Obviously. Slytherin."
"A natural fit, to be sure… though I do see a touch of Ravenclaw. A thirst for knowledge, a genuine appreciation for artistry—"
Daphne scoffed. "Artistry is wasted without ambition."
The Hat let out a knowing chuckle. "Well, I can't argue with that. Better be—SLYTHERIN!"
Daphne slid off the stool, smoothing her robes like she'd just signed a multi-million-Galleon deal and sauntered to the Slytherin table, where Tracey Davis greeted her with an exaggerated slow clap.
"Congratulations, Your Majesty. I was worried the Hat would throw you into Ravenclaw, and you'd be stuck discussing the ethical implications of wand wood variations instead of plotting world domination."
Daphne smirked. "Please. I'd rather go to Azkaban than live in a dorm full of people who argue about the proper way to alphabetize spellbooks."
Over at the Gryffindor table, Tonks whistled. "Damn. Greengrass plays the game like a pro."
Harry leaned in, mischief sparking in his eyes. "I mean, she could've at least pretended to consider another House. Where's the dramatic internal conflict? The existential crisis? The moment of doubt where she questions her entire identity?"
Ron frowned. "Wait, are we supposed to have existential crises?"
Neville sighed. "Ron, please."
Susan tapped her chin in mock thought. "You know, I think there's a secret House for people like her. House Executive Board. Their common room is probably a high-rise office."
Tracey, catching that from the Slytherin table, called back, "If that existed, I'd be on the hiring committee already."
Tonks snapped her fingers. "Hold up. What if the Sorting Hat doesn't actually put us where we belong, but in the House that will cause the most chaos?"
Hermione, who had been trying to focus on the Sorting but was now officially done with this nonsense, turned sharply. "That is absolutely not how it works!"
Harry grinned. "Then explain me. I guarantee nobody is ready for whatever is about to happen when I sit on that stool."
Neville groaned. "Oh, Merlin. What if the Hat just gives up and makes a new House on the spot?"
Susan nodded sagely. "House Disaster. Motto: 'Well, we tried.'"
Tonks cackled. "I'd be a legacy student."
Before Harry could continue his one-man crusade against logic, McGonagall's voice rang out again.
"Longbottom, Neville."
Neville paled like he was being led to the gallows. "Oh no."
Harry patted his shoulder. "Remember, if the Hat tries to put you somewhere weird, just start loudly screaming about 'the prophecy' and see if it panics."
Neville let out a strangled noise that might have been a laugh or a plea for rescue, then stumbled up to the stool like a man marching toward his doom.
Hannah, watching with wide eyes, leaned over to Susan. "This Sorting Hat is definitely sentient, right? And we're just… okay with that?"
Susan shrugged. "It's either sentient, cursed, or running on a corrupted AI. At this point, I've stopped asking questions."
Hermione, who was now gripping the table with both hands, visibly inhaled through her nose. "It is not cursed or corrupted. It is an ancient magical artifact with highly sophisticated enchantments—"
Harry cut her off. "Or it's an eldritch horror that feeds off our panic and self-doubt."
Ron muttered, "Makes sense."
Hagrid, from the staff table, shook his head at Draco Malfoy, who was practically vibrating with excitement. "Calm down, Malfoy, yer not up yet."
Draco scoffed. "I know that, you big oaf. I just want to see which House Potter lands in."
Hagrid snorted. "Yeah, well, so does the Sorting Hat, probably."
As Neville sat down and the Hat slipped over his head, Harry leaned back and stretched his arms behind his head.
"Mark my words," he announced. "When it's my turn, that Hat is going to have a full-on existential meltdown."
Tonks grinned. "I'll put five Sickles on it making a sarcastic comment."
Susan smirked. "I'll put five on it giving up entirely and just saying 'figure it out yourself.'"
Hannah, wide-eyed, muttered, "I'm starting to think Hogwarts was a mistake."
Harry grinned. "Oh, you have no idea."
—
Neville walked up to the stool like a man approaching the executioner's block, his eyes darting toward the nearest exit as if seriously considering making a break for it. The Great Hall buzzed with whispered conversations, but to him, it all blurred into a low hum of impending doom.
"Oh no," he muttered, barely audible over the clamor of students whispering amongst themselves.
Harry, ever the supportive friend, clapped him on the shoulder. "Remember, if the Hat tries to put you somewhere weird, just start loudly screaming about 'the prophecy' and see if it panics."
Neville let out a strangled noise somewhere between a laugh and a whimper before reluctantly perching on the stool. McGonagall set the Sorting Hat over his head, and immediately, the old relic hummed in thought.
"Hmm… quite a bit of courage buried under all that self-doubt," the Hat mused. "Oh, and a surprising amount of tenacity. A perfect fit for Hufflepuff—"
"NO."
Neville didn't exactly yell, but the sheer force of his desperation made the Hat pause.
"Ah. Not Hufflepuff, then? Interesting… You've got a keen mind for Herbology, but there's something else, isn't there? Something… hidden."
Neville gulped. "Please don't say 'hidden potential.' That's usually code for 'good luck, you're about to have a character arc.'"
The Hat chuckled. "Very well, not Hufflepuff. But you do have remarkable loyalty and kindness—"
"I mean, loyalty is great, but do I have to commit to it like a life philosophy?"
"Fair point. Now, what about Slytherin?"
Neville's entire body went rigid. "WHAT."
"You have more cunning than you realize, and ambition isn't always about power. Sometimes, it's about proving something to yourself."
"That sounds dangerously close to a pep talk. Please stop."
The Hat laughed. "Very well, I suppose there is only one option left. It will take time, but yes… you belong in GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted into applause as Neville all but tore the Hat off his head, practically sprinting toward his Housemates like a man fleeing a burning building.
"That was the most stressful sixty seconds of my life," he gasped as he collapsed onto the bench next to Harry, who clapped him on the back.
"Welcome to the club. You handled that like a champ."
"I think I need to lie down."
Ron grinned. "At least you didn't get Slytherin. Can you imagine? You'd be stuck in a dorm with Malfoy."
Speak of the devil—McGonagall's voice rang out once more.
"Malfoy, Draco."
Draco strutted up to the stool like a prince making his grand entrance, sparing a pointed glance at Harry as if daring him to react.
Harry gave him a thumbs-up. "Go get 'em, Malfoy. Be the main character you were born to be."
Draco sneered, but there was a flicker of confusion in his eyes as he sat down and the Hat was placed on his head.
"Ah, another Malfoy," the Hat drawled. "Such ambition, such pride… and a remarkable amount of pressure weighing on your shoulders."
Draco huffed. "Yes, yes, I know. Generations of tradition, family expectations, the usual. Can we move this along?"
The Hat chuckled. "Impatient, aren't we? But I must say, while Slytherin is the obvious choice, you do have a sharp mind. You could do well in Ravenclaw."
Draco made a choking noise. "Ravenclaw? With the bookworms? Absolutely not. My father would have an aneurysm."
"Well, we wouldn't want that, would we?" the Hat mused. "Very well, best put you in—SLYTHERIN!"
Draco smirked as he hopped off the stool, striding over to the Slytherin table with all the self-satisfaction of a cat who had just knocked something expensive off a shelf.
Back at the Gryffindor table, Susan nudged Harry. "So, when you get up there, do you think the Hat is going to take one look at you and self-destruct?"
Tonks snickered. "No, no, I bet it starts screaming in Latin before bursting into flames."
Ron, brow furrowed, muttered, "What if it just says 'Nope' and leaves?"
Harry, lounging back with a smirk, shrugged. "Honestly? I wouldn't blame it."
—
As the Sorting continued, the Great Hall was filled with polite applause, excited whispers, and the occasional groan from students who had been hoping for a more thrilling ceremony. Pansy Parkinson barely had the Sorting Hat touch her head before it declared, "SLYTHERIN!" Padma Patil, calm and collected, was sorted into "RAVENCLAW!" Meanwhile, her twin sister, Parvati, practically bounced onto the stool and grinned ear-to-ear when the Hat sent her to "GRYFFINDOR!"
Then, the hall hushed.
"Potter, Harry."
It was as if someone had pressed the mute button on Hogwarts. For exactly two seconds, there was pure, unadulterated silence—then chaos erupted in the form of frantic whispers.
"Did she say Potter? As in the Potter?"
"The Boy-Who-Lived?"
"Where's the scrawny kid with glasses?"
"I thought he'd be… smaller?"
"Merlin's beard, did he train for this?"
Harry sighed, shaking his head. "Predictable."
At the Gryffindor table, Seamus Finnigan made a noise that was suspiciously close to a squeak before he promptly keeled over, face-first into his mashed potatoes.
"Three seconds. You owe me, Hannah," Susan said smugly, holding out a hand.
Hannah groaned, digging into her robes and slapping a sickle into Susan's waiting palm. "I thought they'd last at least five."
Daphne smirked, leaning over to Tracey. "I swear, every time Harry enters a room, people act like he just descended from the heavens with a choir of phoenixes."
"It's entertaining," Tracey said with a grin. "Although, I was kind of hoping someone would faint dramatically like a Regency heroine."
"Seamus did."
"True, but it lacks elegance when you faceplant into food."
Meanwhile, at the staff table, Professor McGonagall—bless her legendary composure—merely arched a single, refined eyebrow at the spectacle. "Potter," she said, with the air of someone who had already developed a mild headache. "If you would?"
Harry smirked and stood, rolling his shoulders as he made his way to the front. He moved with an easy confidence that didn't just suggest he belonged here—it declared it. He strolled toward the Sorting Hat like he was about to drop the greatest diss track in wizarding history.
As he passed the Slytherin table, a Fifth-Year sitting close to Draco Malfoy looked like he had swallowed a lemon. "That's Potter? He looks like he wrestles trolls for sport!"
"Give him time," Daphne muttered. "He probably will."
Harry plopped onto the stool with all the elegance of someone who could not care less about the dramatics but still knew how to milk a moment. He tilted his head at McGonagall. "So, do I sit normally, or do I flex first to really sell it?"
McGonagall's lips twitched. "Just sit, Potter."
"As you wish, Professor."
The Sorting Hat barely touched his head before its voice echoed in his mind. "Ah, Potter. Fascinating."
"I get that a lot."
"You are… not what I expected."
"Yeah, well, try being me. Everyone expects a fragile, bespectacled legend, and instead, they get a kid who could probably suplex a Hippogriff."
"Indeed," the Hat mused. "Ambition, cunning, loyalty, intellect, courage… you have it all. You could excel in Slytherin."
"Oh, you mean I could single-handedly give Lucius Malfoy an aneurysm? Tempting."
"Ravenclaw would suit you too. Your mind is sharp. You see patterns others miss."
"And I'd get thrown out for starting a rebellion against assigned homework. Next."
"Hufflepuff, then? A house for the loyal, the hardworking—"
"Listen, I respect Helga's whole vibe, but if you put me there, I will personally start a conspiracy theory that the Sorting Hat is a cursed artifact created by Helga Hufflepuff herself."
The Hat chuckled. "Oh, I do like you, Potter."
"I get that a lot too."
"Well then, it seems only one place truly fits… GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table exploded into cheers, with Parvati and Lavender practically bouncing in their seats. Fred and George Weasley exchanged mischievous glances that clearly said, 'This is going to be fun.'
Harry stood, stretched like he had just finished a casual workout, and strolled over to his new housemates. He clapped Neville on the back. "See? Told you it wouldn't be so bad."
Neville groaned. "I'm still recovering from the collective gasping."
"You get used to it," Harry said cheerfully. "Or you start charging for the show."
Ron exhaled dramatically. "Blimey, I thought you were gonna end up in Slytherin."
Susan leaned in. "Would've been hilarious. The sheer amount of Malfoy meltdowns alone—"
Tonks wiped an imaginary tear. "I was rooting for Ravenclaw. He would've started an academic rebellion."
Daphne smirked. "Oh, don't worry. No matter what house he's in, Harry is the rebellion."
Tracey sighed theatrically. "I was really hoping for Slytherin. We could've had so much fun terrorizing the purists."
"Still possible," Harry said with a wink. "I have a strong extracurricular interest in causing Malfoy-related chaos."
Hermione, who had been trying very hard to pretend she wasn't eavesdropping, finally gave in. "You realize people are going to keep whispering about you all year, right?"
Harry shrugged. "Let them. I'll give them something fun to talk about."
McGonagall, observing from the staff table, sighed. "Merlin help us all."
—
As the Sorting Ceremony continued, names were called, and students found their houses. Some received immediate cheers, others polite applause, and a few—like Seamus Finnigan, who was still recovering from his earlier fainting spell—were too busy questioning reality to react at all.
Then, the next name rang out.
"Tonks, Nymphadora."
A groan echoed across the hall before the girl in question even moved. Several students glanced around in curiosity, while at the Gryffindor table, Harry grinned wickedly.
"Five Sickles says she corrects McGonagall before she even sits down," Susan murmured, her blue eyes gleaming with amusement.
"Three Sickles says she trips on the way there," Tracey countered.
"Ten says she does both," Daphne added smugly, tossing her long, blonde hair over her shoulder.
Tonks, in the meantime, had pushed herself up from the Hufflepuff table and was now striding forward, her bubblegum-pink hair practically glowing under the enchanted ceiling. The confidence was there, the determination clear…
…and then she reached McGonagall.
She stopped dead, hands on her hips. "Professor, with all due respect, it's just Tonks."
Susan smirked and held out her hand. "Pay up."
Tracey, grumbling, handed over three Sickles. Daphne, however, merely folded her arms, watching intently.
McGonagall's lips thinned, though her expression remained otherwise unreadable. "Duly noted, Miss Tonks. Kindly take a seat."
"Right, right." Tonks spun dramatically toward the stool, determined to at least make this part graceful.
She lasted exactly three steps before—
THUNK.
The entire hall winced as she tripped over absolutely nothing, flailed wildly, and smacked into the stool, nearly taking the Sorting Hat down with her. A hush of horrified silence hung in the air before laughter rippled through the hall. Tonks, never one to let minor public humiliation ruin her moment, popped back up and grinned, hands in the air like a victorious Quidditch player.
At the Gryffindor table, Harry turned to Daphne and held out his hand. "Ten Sickles, please."
Daphne narrowed her eyes at him but begrudgingly fished out the coins. "You are insufferable."
"And yet, here we are."
Tonks, meanwhile, finally made it onto the stool and had the Sorting Hat placed over her head. Almost immediately, the ancient relic gave a deep, amused hum.
"Ah, Nymphadora Tonks."
"Dude, seriously, drop the first name."
"Feisty, aren't we? Metamorphmagus, mischievous, fiercely loyal, reckless but in an endearing way—"
"Listen, if this ends with me in Ravenclaw, just know I will personally start a conspiracy theory that the Sorting Hat is actually a mind-control device made by goblins."
"Fascinating choice of threat, but worry not. You certainly have a mind fit for cunning schemes. You'd do well in Slytherin—"
"Oh, I'd be hexed in my sleep by Christmas."
"—but you also have a sharp wit, a creative mind, and the resourcefulness of a true Ravenclaw."
"Appreciate that, but I refuse to willingly do extra homework."
"Hufflepuff could also suit you. Loyal, hardworking, and—"
"Look, I love 'Puff energy, but let's be real—I have the attention span of a Niffler in a gold vault."
The Hat chuckled. "Ah, but Gryffindor. Brave, reckless, the heart of a troublemaker—"
"And the trademark Gryffindor lack of self-preservation, right?"
"Precisely. Very well then—GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table exploded with cheers. Tonks yanked the Hat off, pumped her fists, and practically skipped over to join them. As she plopped down next to Harry, she threw her arms around him in an exaggerated hug.
"Told you I'd make it fun!"
Harry snorted. "You never disappoint."
Neville, still recovering from the sheer amount of chaos, turned to Hermione, looking slightly overwhelmed. "Is it just me, or is Hogwarts already shaping up to be a madhouse?"
Hermione, adjusting her tie with the air of someone who had already resigned herself to catastrophe, exhaled sharply. "I think we're in for a very long seven years."
—
As the Sorting Ceremony neared its end, the hall had settled into a rhythm. Name called, student walks up, Sorting Hat deliberates, house is assigned, applause follows—repeat. But after the absolute circus that was Tonks' Sorting, the bar had been set high for entertainment value.
Then McGonagall called the final name.
"Weasley, Ronald."
Ron paled. "Oh, bloody hell."
"Try not to trip, mate," Harry said with a smirk. "Tonks already secured the 'Most Disastrous Entrance' award."
Tonks, still beaming from her moment in the spotlight, leaned forward. "Though if you want to challenge my title, by all means, give it your best shot."
Ron shot them both a glare and trudged forward like he was walking to the gallows. The hall quieted as he climbed onto the stool, his ears already burning red. McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on his head, and immediately, the voice of the ancient artifact chuckled in his ear.
"Ah, another Weasley. I know just what to do with you—"
"Wait, wait, wait!" Ron's internal voice practically screeched. "You don't have to just throw me into Gryffindor! Maybe, I dunno, check? You know, just in case?"
The Hat hesitated. "Oh? Having second thoughts about following in your brothers' footsteps?"
"It's not that!" Ron argued. "I just—look, all my brothers were Gryffindors. I don't want people thinking I got in just because of them."
"Interesting." The Hat hummed. "You do have a strong sense of self, even if you don't always recognize it. And there's ambition, oh yes—an unspoken drive to be more, to prove yourself. You'd do well in Slytherin."
Ron nearly jumped off the stool. "WHAT?!"
A few heads turned at his sudden flinch, gripping the stool like it had betrayed him.
"Uh… you okay, mate?" Seamus whispered loudly.
Neville turned to Harry. "What do you think the Hat's saying?"
Harry stroked his chin theatrically. "Probably something like, 'Have you considered Hufflepuff? We offer complimentary cookies and minimal emotional damage.'"
Susan, overhearing, crossed her arms. "Excuse you, Hufflepuff is the best-kept secret of Hogwarts. We've got snacks, a chill common room, and a significantly lower chance of dying tragically."
Back under the Hat, Ron was panicking. "You—you can't just say Slytherin like that! I mean, yeah, I wanna be great and all, but not, you know, evil."
The Hat sighed. "Oh, for Merlin's sake, not this again. Why does everyone assume—listen, you've got traits of every house, but let's be honest: you're stubborn, reckless, and loyal to a fault. If I put you anywhere but Gryffindor, you'd set my brim on fire."
Ron blinked. "…Is that a thing that's happened?"
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"Okay, okay! Fine! Gryffindor it is!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted in cheers, Fred and George leading the charge with exaggerated fist pumps.
"THAT'S OUR BROTHER!" Fred bellowed.
"TOOK HIM LONG ENOUGH!" George added.
Ron yanked the Hat off and practically sprinted to the Gryffindor table, dropping onto the bench beside Harry with an exhausted sigh.
"I almost got put in Slytherin," he muttered, still wide-eyed.
Harry clapped him on the back. "And you survived. Welcome to Gryffindor, Weasley."
Neville patted his shoulder sympathetically. "At least you didn't faint. Seamus still holds that honor."
Seamus, who had finally regained full consciousness, groaned. "You lot are never letting me live that down, are you?"
Susan grinned. "Not a chance."
As the applause died down, McGonagall closed the Sorting Hat's scroll and turned to the students. "Now that all our First-Years have been sorted, I ask that you direct your attention to the Headmaster."
Harry glanced at the towering, bearded wizard at the center of the staff table. Albus Dumbledore was beaming, his twinkling blue eyes surveying the sea of students with unmistakable delight.
"Here we go," Tonks murmured. "Time for the grand speech."
Daphne smirked from the Slytherin table. "Think he'll say something completely ridiculous just to keep us on our toes?"
Harry leaned back, grinning. "If he doesn't start with 'a few words,' I'll be deeply disappointed."
And then, with an unmistakable twinkle in his eye, Dumbledore stood and spread his arms wide.
"Ahem. Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak!"
The Great Hall erupted into laughter, applause, and various confused expressions from the First-Years who had no idea what they'd just signed up for.
Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Yup. Hogwarts is going to be one hell of a ride."
---
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