"Hannah Abbott!"
A powerful voice echoed through the opulent Great Hall.
A rosy-cheeked girl with two golden braids stumbled forward, nervously placing a patched, wrinkled, pointed hat upon her head.
Moments later, the brim of the hat split open like a mouth and shouted—
"Hufflepuff!"
The hat… spoke!
A wave of cheers and applause surged through the hall as the flushed girl pulled off the hat and ran excitedly to the long table on the far right.
Amidst the commotion, no one noticed a black-haired boy with dusky golden eyes standing frozen in the line of new students. His lips were slightly parted as he stared blankly at everything around him.
Thousands of candles floated in the air. Four long tables sparkled with gleaming golden cutlery. Translucent ghosts drifted about. A hook-nosed man with greasy hair stood at the staff table… and at its center sat an elderly man with a long white beard and a kindly expression.
"Is this… Hogwarts?"
"Did I… Got isekai'd?!"
The boy blinked, a surge of disbelief, excitement, and panic swirling in his chest.
Never in his wildest dreams did he imagine that he would find himself in this world—a magical school that had only ever existed in books and films—standing here as one of the students about to be Sorted!
But as a devoted fan who had read the novels and seen all the movies, he quickly adjusted his mindset.
Sure, Hogwarts—the safest place in the world—had a tendency to host near-apocalyptic events every year. But all those problems revolved around the Golden Trio.
As long as he stayed away from them and honed his magic in any House except Gryffindor, with the advantage of knowing the future, he figured he could survive just fine.
But the real issue now was…
"Who the hell am I?"
Watching student after student step forward to don the wrinkled Sorting Hat and take their seats at different House tables, the boy frowned deeply.
His mind was completely blank.
There wasn't a single memory from whoever's body he had taken over. Not even a name.
At that moment, Professor Minerva McGonagall, dressed in her distinctive emerald robes, called out the next name:
"Lycos Hayden."
The hall fell momentarily silent.
All eyes turned expectantly toward the line of first-years, curious to see which House this new student would join.
But the children standing there merely looked at each other like frightened lambs, shrinking back under McGonagall's stern gaze. No one moved.
She pressed her lips into a tight line, then sharply called again—louder this time:
"Lycos Hayden!"
Seeing that no one responded, the black-haired boy hesitantly took a step forward.
Then, suddenly doubtful, he looked around to check if anyone else was also about to step up.
"Mr. Hayden, if you would move a bit faster, please," Professor McGonagall said with a firm voice, fixing her gaze on him.
"Uh… yes, Professor." The boy blinked in realization.
So my name is Lycos Hayden.
Trying to steady the flurry of emotions in his heart—nerves, surprise, confusion—he stumbled his way toward the Sorting Stool.
McGonagall looked visibly exasperated, but managed to maintain a smile. She helped him onto the stool and reassured him kindly:
"Relax. You'll be Sorted into the House best suited to you."
And then, the Sorting Hat was placed upon his head.
As the legendary hat once belonging to Godric Gryffindor, it was clearly oversized for a child.
The brim drooped down, covering Lycos's eyes entirely. He felt its rough, dry fabric against his forehead and ears, and caught a whiff of faint mildew from the centuries-old cloth.
"Oh-ho! Nervous, are we?"
A raspy voice sounded right beside his ear—nasal and grating, like a croaky duck.
"Don't worry! As the greatest hat in magical history, I shall now—ssssss—"
The ducklike voice suddenly choked mid-sentence.
"Wait a minute!" it cried, like someone squeezing a duck's neck. "Where did you learn Occlumency? That makes my job way harder!"
Lycos opened his mouth, unsure if he should say anything.
He did know the Sorting Hat probed memories through Legilimency to understand a student's personality. But why had it just brought up Occlumency?
"No, no… even the best Occlumency wouldn't completely block me from seeing anything at all." The Sorting Hat grumbled beside his ear. "Unless…"
"Unless you're a natural-born Occlumens!"
The hat practically shouted, making Lycos jump.
"Great Merlin, is this the day my thousand-year Sorting streak ends in total disaster?!"
"I don't really understand," Lycos whispered.
"Ah, well, simply put," the hat said, regaining its composure, "this is a magical gift you were born with!"
Clearly frustrated by its inability to read Lycos's mind, the hat now eagerly latched onto the chance to explain, its tone growing animated.
"You see, wizards usually learn spells through study and training. But some exceptional individuals are born with certain magical talents—abilities they can use naturally, without ever learning them."
"These innate skills are often far stronger than learned magic, which is why I can't read a single thought from your head."
"Sigh… how am I supposed to Sort you?"
"So that's what's going on!" Lycos's eyes lit up.
A moment ago, he'd been worried that people like Dumbledore or Snape—both masters of Legilimency—might discover his secret.
But now, knowing he was a natural Occlumens… that was one less thing to fear.
"Well, if you can't decide, just toss me into a random House," Lycos said, sounding more relaxed. "Just don't put me in Gryffindor."
He was truly going out of his way to avoid the Chosen One and his friends.
"Hmm… not Gryffindor, eh?" the hat murmured. "Well, I suppose I've already seen enough from our little chat—"
"Slytherin!!"
Applause and cheers erupted from the table to Lycos's left.
He let out a breath of relief, removed the chatty old hat, handed it back to Professor McGonagall, and made his way toward the long table adorned in green and silver.
Just then—
Clatter!
A loud noise came from the staff table.
Lycos instinctively turned his head and saw a professor wearing a purple turban accidentally knock over his goblet, spilling his drink all over the man seated beside him.
"S-s-sorry, Professor Snape! Let me clean that up!" the turbaned professor stammered nervously.
Lycos watched as the man pulled out a filthy handkerchief, trembling as he unfolded it—one side of it facing directly toward him.
In that moment, Lycos's eyes went wide.
Because embroidered on the fabric… were five bold words:
"Come to my office tonight!"