Dudley settled into a state of deep mental focus, a meditative calm he had perfected in a world where stray thoughts could attract predators. The Sorting Hat's voice was a minor annoyance, one he could easily wall off.
Have you discovered my secret? he thought, a silent challenge to the ancient magical artifact on his head.
"I dare say, you are absolutely the most magically gifted child I have had the pleasure of sorting in centuries," the Hat replied, its voice filled with genuine awe. "With just a little guidance, you could become a truly great wizard. However, this is difficult. Very difficult. Which house should I put you in? Clearly, your courage and wisdom are greatly admired by Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. And your ambition is beloved by Slytherin. As for Hufflepuff… trust me, they would jump for joy if you went there. This is truly difficult."
The Sorting Hat seemed to be having a full-blown debate with itself inside Dudley's head.
I can't believe this hat is such a chatterbox, Dudley thought, a wave of exasperation washing over him. He could feel the time stretching on, far longer than it had for any other student. A low murmur began to spread through the Great Hall as whispers turned to impatient muttering.
"Could it be that Hogwarts' Book of Admittance had a problem?" Malfoy's sneering voice cut through the noise. "Sent an invitation to a Muggle with no magical talent?" His comment was met with a few cruel snickers from the Slytherin table. "That would be too interesting. The famous Harry Potter's cousin… couldn't be a Squib, could he? Oh, wait, I'm wrong. He's not a Squib. His parents are Muggles, hehe."
The whispers grew louder, now tinged with a new excitement.
"What? He's Harry Potter's cousin?"
"Wait, then Harry Potter must be here, too!"
"Which one is he? Let me see!"
"SILENCE!" Professor McGonagall's voice cracked like a whip, and the hall instantly fell quiet again. She shot an anxious glance at Dudley, who was still sitting motionless on the stool.
"Alright, alright," the Hat's voice echoed in his mind, sounding flustered. "Let me take one last look at your qualities, to decide which house to put you in."
Hurry up, Dudley couldn't help but urge, his patience wearing thin.
"Ah…" Suddenly, the Sorting Hat let out a startled cry, a sound of pure shock and terror that resonated not in the hall, but directly in Dudley's soul. It convulsed on his head, then tumbled to the floor, silent and still.
A collective gasp went through the Great Hall. Everyone stared, stunned, at the scene. Even Professor McGonagall was speechless. Dudley frowned. He hadn't done anything. What was wrong with the hat?
Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat at the High Table, his expression unreadable. He walked over, bent down, and picked up the limp, dusty hat. After a moment of silent communion with the artifact, he addressed the hall.
"There has been a small mishap," he announced, his voice calm but carrying an undeniable authority. "Professor McGonagall, let the new students eat first. The Sorting Ceremony will continue after dinner."
"But…" Professor McGonagall began, looking at the unsorted first-years. "Where should they sit?"
"Everyone may sit wherever they like," Dumbledore declared. Ignoring McGonagall's puzzled expression, he gave Dudley a long, deep, and profoundly curious look before turning and leaving the Great Hall with the Sorting Hat in his hand.
"Professor, I…" Dudley stood up, feeling the need to defend himself.
"It's alright, Mr. Dursley," McGonagall said, her voice a little shaky. "Perhaps there's a problem with the Hat. Go back and eat with the others for now."
Dudley returned to his friends, shaking his head at their confused, questioning gazes. Since Ron's brothers were all at the Gryffindor table, they decided to sit there, a small, unsorted island in a sea of red and gold.
In Dumbledore's office, the Headmaster placed the Sorting Hat on his desk. "What happened, my old friend?" he asked gently.
The Hat seemed to shudder. "I don't know, Albus. I simply wanted to see which house would suit him best. I tried to… understand him. To see the core of his being. And then… nothing. Just a vast, cold darkness that I could not comprehend."
"Did you discover anything before that?" Dumbledore pressed.
"Oh, yes. The boy's magical talent is immense. Higher than yours, Albus. Higher, even, than the other one… you know who I speak of."
"And then?"
"There was no 'then,'" the Hat insisted. "I reached for his essence, and I was met with… a void. And fear. I felt fear, Albus, and I do not know why. You know, I am what is left of Gryffindor's mind. If I am afraid, it means Godric himself would have felt that same fear." The Hat sounded utterly bewildered. "In short, I cannot explain him. After all, I'm just a hat, Dumbledore."
"Yes," Dumbledore nodded slowly. "You are just a hat." He paused. "So, which house would you have put him in?"
"If I must judge based on what I saw… Slytherin. That boy, in Slytherin, would achieve terrible, great things. But his talent is such that he would not fare badly in any of the houses."
Dumbledore fell silent, lost in thought.
Back in the Great Hall, Dumbledore returned to his seat, placing the Sorting Hat back on the stool. The meal had been a tense affair for Dudley. He had garnered more stares and whispers than Harry Potter, a situation he found deeply undesirable.
After the plates were cleared, Dumbledore stood up again, and the hall fell silent.
"There was a small accident earlier," he said, his eyes twinkling. "The Sorting Hat, it seems, was a bit over-excited, just like you young ones. Now, the sorting will continue." He looked directly at Dudley.
"As for Dudley Dursley, his house is…"
He paused for a beat, letting the tension build.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
As Dumbledore's voice boomed through the hall, the Gryffindor table erupted in thunderous, welcoming applause.
***
(End of Chapter)
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