"Oh, you seem to be thinking about things that a child shouldn't be pondering," the Sorting Hat remarked.
Harry, more intrigued by the hat itself than the Sorting ceremony, responded, "You can actually read my mind?"
"It's not Legilimency. Godric Gryffindor didn't give me the ability to pry into people's private thoughts. If we're talking about reading minds, Dumbledore's far better at it than I am. But when it comes to judging character, I'd say I've got the edge over him," the Sorting Hat explained.
"It's just a knack for analyzing a person's character and picking up on their surface thoughts. I can read your most outward, shallow consciousness, but I won't dig into your secrets."
"I see," Harry said, attempting to channel his divine power into his mind.
"So, when you don't want to share your thoughts with me, you don't need Occlumency… like right now. Yes, you're quite the prodigy. I'm convinced you could belong in Ravenclaw. I didn't expect you to be so gifted in this area."
Harry nodded with satisfaction. This Sorting Hat really knows how to read people! he thought. Truly a magical hat with a mind of its own.
Magic hat, magic hat, tell me, who's the smartest person in the world?
Of course, that silly jest wasn't heard by the Sorting Hat—it was far too embarrassing. Harry had his pride.
Instead, he asked, "You just said you were imbued with abilities by Gryffindor. Did Godric Gryffindor also practice alchemy?"
"Of course. All four Founders were masters of every branch of magic, which is why every student here receives a comprehensive magical education. I was created by Gryffindor and endowed with the discernment of all four Founders… ah, that was over a thousand years ago."
"By the way, we've been at this for a while. Have you thought about which House you'd like to join? I can't see your character anymore, but thankfully, I got a good look earlier. I recall you could choose any House except Hufflepuff."
"I'm fine with any of them. Are you trying to slack off? Why not pick one yourself? And why can't I go to Hufflepuff?" Harry asked.
"Please, when a student fits multiple Houses, it's only fair to let them choose. Take Neville Longbottom, for instance. He could've gone to Hufflepuff—he's loyal and honest, and Lady Hufflepuff would've adored him. But he chose Gryffindor himself. I only pick randomly when a student has no preference at all.
"As for Hufflepuff, while Hogwarts accepts all sufficiently talented young witches and wizards, and Hufflepuff will always take those with nowhere else to go, when there's a choice, Hufflepuff values loyalty, perseverance, honesty, and a willingness to endure hard work…"
"Alright, alright," Harry interrupted, at a loss for words. He wasn't here to toil away as some laborer king. He wanted to rule with authority and grandeur.
It seemed Hufflepuff wasn't the right fit. So then… "Wait a second, you are a hat, right?"
Harry suddenly sensed something within the divine power gathering in his mind—a spark of the Lightbringer's essence, eager to act.
If he weren't so close to the hat, he might not have noticed it, but now he could feel it: the strongest vessel he'd ever encountered was right here.
It wasn't the product of some blood sacrifice ritual… its essence was simply powerful, with a unique capacity to contain various forces. It was perfect… This object is destined for me!
"Of course I'm a hat! What are you talking about?" the Sorting Hat retorted.
The hat had just said it was created by Gryffindor… and suddenly, it all clicked for Harry.
Before arriving at Hogwarts, Hagrid had mentioned something about the legendary Sword of Gryffindor!
"Bold Sorting Hat, how dare you deceive me! You're clearly a sword! Reveal your true form!"
Without waiting for the hat to protest, Harry yanked it off his head.
"What are you doing? The Sorting isn't over yet—wait!"
For the first time, the Sorting Hat spoke aloud, startling the professors.
But at this distance, not even Dumbledore could stop Harry from doing what he intended! Or so Harry declared.
Grabbing the hat, he infused it with his divine power, instantly reshaping it to his will.
The Sorting Hat fell silent, unable to speak.
Harry realized it wasn't Transfiguration that had turned a sword into a hat. There was a hidden passage within the hat—some kind of spatial magic?
Would the other students freak out if they knew a sword was hovering over their heads during Sorting? Harry mused. Hogwarts really is a dragon's den.
The passage felt like a membrane, one that likely had specific conditions to open.
No matter. Harry didn't play by ordinary rules. He charmed the hat with his overwhelming charisma, bending its rules and forcing the gateway open.
Reaching inside, he pulled out a silver sword nearly a meter long, its hilt adorned with rubies and radiating immense magical power.
Running his hand along the blade, Harry noted the inscriptions of Gryffindor and goblin craftsmanship.
He flourished the sword. At his current height, he'd have to wield it like a greatsword for now, but that was fine—Harry was proficient in all manner of martial arts.
The Lightbringer's essence was practically begging to merge with the blade.
What a magnificent sword!
With his kingly power, Harry could channel the Lightbringer's divine energy through the sword at will.
The Sorting Hat, recovering from the overwhelming surge of Harry's divine power and charisma, finally spoke again. "Wait! You can't take that sword! It's public property, meant only for a true Gryffindor in times of peril. Your power was so immense I couldn't resist, but this isn't the proper process. Please, put it back!"
Itsrosemary voice grew quieter, clearly embarrassed and reluctant to let others overhear its humiliation.
Then it raised its voice again. "Besides, you no longer have a choice! As everyone knows, only a true Gryffindor can draw this sword… Harry Potter—Gryffindor!"
The sword was ultimately entrusted to Dumbledore for safekeeping. Harry made an agreement with him: he wouldn't take it to the dorms or classrooms, but he could borrow it for practice after notifying someone.
If he could anticipate future crossings, he'd carry the sword with him.
Only items on his person could come with him during a crossing. Could a storage device, like the magical rings in Chinese novels, be brought along? Surely the wizarding world had similar technology.
Dumbledore, surprisingly, seemed reasonable. Before meeting him, Harry had wondered what he'd do if Dumbledore turned out to be a true enemy.
After meeting him, Harry felt otherwise. The man seemed old, not some mastermind villain. His only real enemy was likely Voldemort alone.
At the Gryffindor table, the chatter was relentless.
Harry had made quite the entrance. Even before officially joining Gryffindor, he'd caused a stir—petrifying a ghost was shocking enough, but drawing the Sword of Gryffindor? That was next-level.
As Harry approached the table, his housemates first looked at him with awe, then visibly relaxed.
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