"Come, put me on!"
"Don't be afraid! Don't panic!"
"You're perfectly safe in my care—for I am the thinking Sorting Hat!"
The old, patched hat finished its self-written song with an emphatic flourish. It bowed theatrically to each of the four House tables in turn as applause erupted across the Great Hall. Students clapped, some with polite enthusiasm, others with genuine excitement. A few first-years looked on in awe, their nerves momentarily forgotten.
After its performance, the Sorting Hat stilled, slumping into motionless silence once again.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, her expression composed, as she held a long parchment scroll. Her eyes scanned the list, and then she addressed the assembled students.
"When I call your name," she began crisply, "you will come forward, sit on the stool, and place the Sorting Hat on your head. You will then be Sorted into your Hogwarts House."
The first years stood in anxious anticipation.
"Gladstone, Parker!"
A sandy-haired boy stumbled forward nervously.
Cedric Diggory, meanwhile, stood at the back of the group, calm and composed, his hands loosely clasped behind his back. Despite being one of the first to arrive at the castle, he was among the last names to be called.
He didn't mind the wait. Patience was a skill he had mastered long ago.
Finally, as nearly all the names had been called, McGonagall announced clearly:
"Diggory, Cedric!"
Cedric stepped forward with quiet confidence, his gait smooth and unhurried. As he approached the Sorting Hat, he gave a polite nod to Professor McGonagall.
Her stern features softened just slightly, and she leaned in to murmur, "Don't worry, Mr. Diggory. It will be over in a moment."
"Thank you, Professor," Cedric replied, his tone warm and respectful.
He picked up the Sorting Hat with both hands and lowered himself onto the stool.
The moment the hat touched his head, everything changed.
He felt something strange—like invisible tendrils gently brushing against the edges of his consciousness, seeking entry. Cedric's training kicked in instantly. His mind remained locked, shielded by his Occlumency.
"Oh, now this is interesting," came the Sorting Hat's voice, echoing inside his head. "Bit of a challenge, aren't you?"
The Hat's tone was amused, but not unfriendly.
"My boy, your mind is a fortress. Would you mind easing your defenses just a bit? I'm not here to steal secrets, only to see what House suits you best."
Cedric hesitated. The last thing he wanted was to let anyone—or anything—peek into his memories of a past life. But this was the Sorting Hat. He had read about it. It was said to house the collective wisdom and judgment of the four Founders. It could not, and would not, betray a student's trust.
"You won't… say anything to anyone?" Cedric asked silently, still wary.
"Of course not," the Hat assured him. "I am bound by magic and oath. I carry no tales, and no one can extract memories from me. You may destroy me, but you cannot pry a single secret loose."
Cedric remained cautious but slowly loosened his mental guard. He allowed only selective, recent memories to surface—those from his time since arriving in this world. It was enough.
The Sorting Hat grew silent for a long moment.
Then suddenly, its voice boomed inside his head—excited, awestruck, almost overwhelmed.
"Good heavens! What's this?"
The Hat dove into a memory of Cedric, at only five years old, standing alone, planning with icy rationality how to one day defeat Lord Voldemort.
"Bravery!" the Hat cried. "Such raw, unshakable courage at such a young age!"
"To face that kind of pressure—and to do so with calm determination—it's extraordinary! You don't flinch in the face of darkness. You walk into it with your eyes wide open!"
Then the Hat shifted through more memories: Cedric's meticulously organized daily routines, his constant evaluation and adjustment of goals, and his uncanny ability to absorb knowledge like a sponge.
"Wisdom!" the Hat exclaimed. "Oh, there's no doubt about it!"
"This boy is brilliant! Insightful, methodical, always ten steps ahead. He sees through complexity as if it were glass!"
"You think like Ravenclaw, but act like something far rarer!"
The Sorting Hat's voice grew more reverent as it uncovered Cedric's loyalty: the promises made to Hagrid and Filch, the solemn vow to defend Hogwarts, the determination to stand against Voldemort no matter the cost.
"Loyalty… pure and unwavering loyalty," the Hat whispered, its voice almost tearful.
"You're the kind who would rather fall than forsake those you care about. A heart like that… it's rare. Very rare indeed."
Then came the last of Cedric's dominant traits—leadership. Memories emerged of him managing his household, guiding his parents and brother, coordinating efforts with Filch at Hogwarts, and gently rallying those around him toward a shared vision.
"Leadership!" The Hat's tone became lofty, almost proud. "Commanding, compassionate, and composed!"
"You inspire others—not through fear or force, but through conviction. You are the kind of leader others want to follow."
And then—
"Ohhh… my!" the Hat cried, and this time, Cedric heard four voices, harmonizing in a quartet.
"Cedric! Oh Cedric!"
"Such courage, such intellect, such loyalty, such charisma!"
"You are the perfect blend of Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin!"
"If there was a House for all Houses, we'd send you there!"
Cedric turned crimson beneath the brim of the hat. Merlin's beard, he thought, if I weren't being watched by half the school right now, I'd let them go on all night.
But he didn't want to draw attention—not yet. He still had plans to keep Dumbledore at a distance, at least for now.
"Alright, alright," he said inwardly, trying to bring the Hat back to the task at hand. "Just pick the House already."
The Hat gave a thoughtful hum.
"Well, with your qualities, you'd be excellent anywhere. Gryffindor, for your valor. Ravenclaw, for your mind. Slytherin, for your ambition. But above all…"
"…which House do you choose?"
"Hufflepuff," Cedric said firmly. "That's where I want to be."
The Hat paused only a moment, then shouted aloud:
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
There was polite applause from the Hufflepuff table as Cedric removed the Hat and placed it respectfully back on the stool. He rose to his feet, calm as ever.
But as he took two steps toward his new House…
…he stopped.
Dead in his tracks.
Why… why is it so quiet?
No cheers. No whispers. No reactions at all.
Cedric turned slightly, only to realize—
The entire Great Hall was staring at him.
Students. Professors. Even the ghosts.
Not because he'd done anything wrong.
But because the Sorting Hat had just declared him a paragon of every House. It had sung his praises in an unprecedented display of admiration.
The silence was the kind that followed awe. The kind one might expect if Merlin himself had just been Sorted.
Cedric, utterly mortified, could only think:
So much for ke
eping a low profile…
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