We lined up in front of the stool like cattle about to be auctioned.
McGonagall held a long roll of parchment and began reading names.
The first girl, Abbott Hannah stumbled forward, face pink, and plopped the Hat on her head.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" it boomed. The table in yellow erupted into cheers.
I smirked. Good kid. She'll probably own a cat café by thirty.
Next came a boy, Boot Terry. The Hat barely touched his hair before yelling "RAVENCLAW!"
"Figures," I muttered. "He already looks like he was born with a library card."
A few more went by, Susan Bones to Hufflepuff, Mandy Brocklehurst to Ravenclaw, Millicent Bulstrode to Slytherin.
Each time, the appropriate table clapped politely or rowdily.
Ron whispered nervously beside me, "What if it doesn't pick me at all?"
I muttered back, "Then you unlock spectator mode."
He frowned. "What?"
"Nothing."
I scanned the four tables as more names were called.
Hufflepuff welcomed every student with open arms, cheering as though they'd won the lottery.
Heartwarming… and slightly cultish.
Ravenclaw barely looked up from their parchment, already judging who was worth tutoring with.
Gryffindor clapped loud enough to rattle the windows. Yep, adrenaline junkies confirmed.
Slytherin smiled coolly whenever one of theirs joined. Applause precise, like they were tallying numbers on a scoreboard.
Each House a different battlefield. Each table its own weapon.
Then,
"Granger, Hermione!"
Bushy haired girl marched up, chin high. The Hat took its time, then shouted: "GRYFFINDOR!"
The red and gold table cheered. She smiled proudly, though I swore she looked like she'd been hoping for Ravenclaw.
Next: "Longbottom, Neville!"
Neville nearly tripped on his robes. The Hat sat on his head longer than expected before finally calling: "GRYFFINDOR!"
I smirked faintly. Brave isn't the absence of fear. It's falling on your face and still getting up.
"Potter, Harry!"
The room froze. A ripple of whispers shot through the Hall. Heads craned. Fingers pointed at my scar.
I kept my face calm, steps steady, though inside my thoughts ran hot: All right, Hat. Let's dance.
-----------------------------------------
The Hat dropped over my eyes, and the Hall disappeared.
The moment the Hat settled over my head, a voice hummed inside my skull.
'Ahhh… Harry Potter. Or perhaps… not entirely Harry Potter, hmm? You're interesting. Very interesting.'
"Thanks," I thought dryly. "Do you offer a loyalty card for that compliment, or is it one-time use?"
The Hat chuckled. 'Wit and irreverence, a Ravenclaw trait, perhaps. Yes, I see hunger for knowledge, the sharp mind of a scholar. You could go far in Ravenclaw, child.'
I considered it. Not a bad option. But knowledge alone doesn't win wars. And I'm not here to just study runes until my beard turns white.
'Ahhh,' the Hat murmured. 'Then Slytherin… yes, cunning, ambition, resourcefulness. You'd do well there. You have a hunger for control, for building something of your own. In Slytherin, you could make alliances, seize power, become a leader… a king.'
Tempting. Very tempting. But—
'But you're hesitating,' the Hat pressed. 'Why? You'd fit well, you know it.'
"Because," I countered, "I know the future. I know how people will see me. The Boy-Who-Lived in Slytherin? It would warp everything. Too much attention, too much paranoia. I need freedom to move, not constant suspicion breathing down my neck."
The Hat hummed. 'Practical. Very practical. But Gryffindor… ah, you have bravery, too. Recklessness hidden under all that control. You long for challenge, for the thrill of risk. Yes… Gryffindor could shape you, test you, temper you.'
"And," I added, "it keeps the timeline intact. Canon still works. Voldemort expects me there. Dumbledore expects me there. It's the best mask to wear."
The Hat laughed. 'Mask, indeed. Oh, you are sly. Slytherin cunning, Ravenclaw wit, Hufflepuff loyalty buried deep, and Gryffindor's courage at your core. You could belong to any House…'
"Then put me in Gryffindor," I said firmly. "It's where I'll shine without drawing the wrong kind of spotlight."
The Hat seemed almost pleased. 'Very well then. You would have done well in Ravenclaw. You could have been great in Slytherin. But if it's Gryffindor you want…'
The Hat shouted into the Hall: "GRYFFINDOR!"
The roar of the table drowned out everything else. Cheers, applause, shouts of "We got Potter!" echoed against the enchanted ceiling.
I pulled the Hat off, smirk faintly tugging at my lips, and walked toward the sea of red and gold.
Mask secured, I thought. Let the game begin.
-----------------------------------------
The Sorting finished, and McGonagall rolled up her parchment. Dumbledore rose, arms spread wide, eyes twinkling like a man who'd replaced his blood with sherbet lemons.
"Welcome!" he boomed. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
The Hall erupted into laughter.
I just raised an eyebrow. Bold move. My man just shouted four random words like he's streaming on Twitch and still got a standing ovation. That's power.
Then the food appeared. And by food, I mean a banquet that could put entire kingdoms to shame.
Roast chicken, sausages, pies, puddings, mashed potatoes in bowls the size of bathtubs.
Ron nearly fell into the table trying to grab everything at once.
I served myself calmly. Note to self: don't eat like you were raised in a cupboard. Wait, right, I wasn't in this timeline.
Still counts.
"Hey, Potter, right?"
I looked up to see a sandy-haired boy grinning. "Seamus Finnigan. I'm half-Irish, half-explosive. Nice to meet you."
"Harry," I said, shaking his hand. "Please don't blow up the mashed potatoes."
Across the table, a boy with dark skin and sharp eyes leaned in. "Dean Thomas. Big football fan. You?"
"Quidditch," I replied. "It's basically football with more ways to die."
Dean laughed. "Fair enough."
A tall, pompous looking older boy cleared his throat. "Percy Weasley, Prefect. If you need guidance—"
"Don't worry," I interrupted smoothly. "If I break rules, I'll make sure to do it out of your line of sight."
Seamus snorted. Percy frowned. Victory.
A transparent figure floated down the table. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy Porpington, Nearly Headless Nick himself.
"Ah, new Gryffindors!" he declared proudly. "Welcome, welcome! You'll find no finer House, I assure you."
"Nearly headless?" Seamus asked.
"Nearly?" Ron echoed.
Nick launched into his usual spiel, demonstrating with a gruesome tug of his head. Gasps, laughter, disgust.
I calmly nodded. "Impressive. Do you also do party tricks?"
Nick blinked, then chuckled. "You've spirit, young Potter. I like you."
Between bites, I studied the professors.
Dumbledore sat like a kindly old general pretending he wasn't terrifying. His twinkle wasn't fooling me. I knew he saw everything.
McGonagall was ramrod straight, expression sharp enough to cut stone. Stern, but protective. A good ally if earned.
Flitwick nearly vanished behind his goblet, but I caught the gleam in his eyes. Underestimate him at your peril.
Sprout looked like she'd just come in from gardening, hands still faintly dirt stained. Practical, grounded, solid.
Snape… ah, Snape. Glowering like he'd bitten a lemon soaked in vinegar, eyes fixed on me with unfiltered loathing.
Yep. Man's got "tragic backstory" tattooed on his forehead.
Quirrell twitched and stammered, turban wound tightly around his head. My eyes lingered just long enough.
Hello, Voldy. Hope you're enjoying your Airbnb experience.
Hagrid beamed proudly at the end of the table, clapping loud enough to rattle dishes. Big heart, bigger fists. Reliable.
I smirked faintly to myself. Pieces on the board, clear as day.
Desserts materialized next: treacle tart, chocolate éclairs, ice cream. I helped myself to tart while Ron nearly drowned in pudding.
As the feast wound down and Dumbledore gave his final announcements, forbidden forest, no magic in corridors, Filch glaring like a wannabe Dark Lord, I leaned back, satisfied.
First dinner complete. Allies sampled. Enemies noted. Game officially on.
-----------------------------------------
The Gryffindors followed Percy Weasley through winding corridors and up staircases that seemed to move whenever they felt like it.
"Keep up!" Percy barked, puffing his chest like a drill sergeant.
Seamus muttered, "Blimey, does he swallow a rulebook every morning?"
I deadpanned, "Yes, and then quotes it back up later."
Seamus nearly tripped laughing. Percy ignored us, but I could practically see the steam rising off his ears.
We stopped before a portrait of a fat lady in pink silk.
"Password?" she demanded.
"Caput Draconis," Percy announced. The portrait swung forward, revealing a round hole.
Inside was the Gryffindor common room: warm, cozy, glowing with firelight.
Plush armchairs scattered near the hearth, tapestries of lions on the walls, the whole place buzzing with the energy of kids who weren't ready to sleep yet.
Ron let out a low whistle. "Brilliant."
Not bad, I admitted silently. Like a cross between a hunting lodge and a grandmother's sitting room.
Percy herded us up another flight of stairs to the boys' dorm. Five four poster beds with deep red curtains stood in a circle, trunks already at the foot of each.
Seamus threw himself onto one. "Called it!"
Dean Thomas stretched out on another, pulling out a West Ham poster and grinning at it like it was sacred scripture.
Neville fussed with his trunk, still muttering about his missing toad.
Ron collapsed onto his bed dramatically. "This is miles better than home."
I sat on my bed calmly, running a hand along the scarlet blanket. All right. This is base camp.
From here, we conquer.
Seamus perked up. "So, Harry… you really You-Know-Who'd him? As a baby?"
Dean elbowed him. "Don't ask him that the first night, mate."
I smiled faintly. "Honestly? I don't remember it. If I did, I'd charge tickets to the memory."
They laughed. Even Neville managed a weak chuckle.
Ron grinned at me across the room. "Told you he's all right."
I leaned back against the headboard, listening to their chatter. They were kids, loud, awkward, full of questions.
And me? I was the infiltrator, the chess player, the transmigrator with cheat codes hidden in his mind.
But for tonight, I just let the firelight flicker across the curtains and allowed myself to relax.
Day one: successful. Mask secure. Next round starts tomorrow.
With that, I drew the curtains closed and drifted off, the castle whispering faintly around me.
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