The Sorting Hat at Hogwarts could do more than just talk. It could see straight into a person's heart, carrying on entire conversations inside their mind.
The reason Harry Potter had taken so long to be Sorted was because he'd gotten into a full-on discussion with it.
The Sorting Hat loved to chatter, but it didn't strike up conversations with just anyone. Only students who stood out in some way ever got that treatment.
Harry Potter clearly fell into that category—and now Ark did too.
I'm not anything special. Not compared to the famous Boy Who Lived.
Ark spoke honestly in his mind, knowing the Sorting Hat could read his thoughts anyway.
"Oh, no, no, no. You're nothing like that boy. You're remarkable in a different way," the Hat replied cheerfully.
"Muggle-born, orphaned, raised in some remote countryside, yet so polite—even Professor McGonagall is fond of you."
"The very first time you picked up a wand, you caused a phenomenon. And that wand itself is rather extraordinary, just like you."
"Your talent is astounding. In one month, you've mastered most of what Hogwarts teaches over seven years—and you did it all on your own?"
"Are you sure you're not descended from Merlin?"
The Sorting Hat rambled on, laying bare everything about Ark—at least the parts he hadn't deliberately hidden.
"I just like studying," Ark answered easily. "There's a saying—poor kids have to grow up fast. And I'm dirt poor, so of course I've got to be responsible."
The Sorting Hat chuckled. "Now that's a Ravenclaw answer. If Rowena were still around, she'd adore a student like you."
Ark blinked. "So you're planning to send me to Ravenclaw?"
"Well, that's the question, isn't it?" The Hat pretended to fret, though its tone was light. "You do crave knowledge, but not for its own sake. What you really love is magic itself. It's the world of magic that fascinates you, and knowledge is simply your way into it."
"You've got a mind as flexible as they come. Slytherin's cunning, Gryffindor's courage, Hufflepuff's loyalty—you'd fit well in any of them."
"The qualities each of the four Founders prized… I see them all in you, though never in quite the same way."
"So where should I put you?"
From its voice, Ark could tell it wasn't actually worried. The Hat was enjoying itself.
"Well then, unusual young wizard, where do you want to go?"
Ark answered honestly. "I don't care much either way. I don't have a particular preference… but if possible, let's skip Gryffindor and Slytherin."
Those Houses had way too much drama. If he landed in one of them, he'd never get the peace to study magic properly.
The Sorting Hat wiggled indignantly. "Oi, show a little respect for the House founded by my master. I may not be fond of those noisy lions either—always stirring up chaos, like that pair of twins who once tried to nick me during Sorting—but Gryffindor is my master's House. You're hurting my feelings here."
For all that the Sorting Hat contained the thoughts of all four Founders, it had originally belonged to Godric Gryffindor. In its heart, it considered him the true master.
If Ark had dismissed only Slytherin, the Hat would've happily joined in the criticism. But slighting Gryffindor as well? That was practically an insult.
"Alright, I apologize," Ark said candidly. "But it's the truth. That's really how I feel. Do as you see fit."
"'Do as I see fit,' is it?" The Sorting Hat gave a sly little laugh. "Well then, old Hat that I am, I'll grant your wish."
"You want to study in peace, don't you?"
"Then there's only one place for you."
And without another word, it shouted aloud:
"Ravenclaw!"
The Ravenclaw table erupted in applause, as loud as the cheers that had greeted Harry Potter's Sorting into Gryffindor.
Girls clapped with shining eyes, delighted beyond measure—much to the envy (and jealousy) of the boys sitting among them.
The witches at the other tables, however, looked disappointed. None more so than Hermione at the Gryffindor table, her face plainly crestfallen.
Professor McGonagall looked just as let down. She'd secretly hoped this polite, extraordinary boy might join Gryffindor. But she'd been right from the start—Ark was a Ravenclaw through and through.
Why was it that all the good children always ended up in someone else's House? She could almost feel her sense of fairness wobbling.
"Thank you," Ark said politely to the Sorting Hat, unaware that one young witch and one grown one were sighing over his absence from Gryffindor.
"You're welcome, courteous young wizard. Now go shake up those smug little eagles for me," the Hat chuckled warmly before breaking off the mental link.
Ark set it back on the stool, then walked to the Ravenclaw table. The students there were practically craning their necks to get a better look as he sat down.
Immediately, a few witches couldn't contain themselves and struck up conversation.
Foreigners really were more open and enthusiastic, Ark thought. They might still be just teenagers, but they already knew how to chat up the opposite sex with boldness that caught him off guard.
At first, he was a little uncomfortable. But he quickly adapted, responding with practiced courtesy. He wasn't flawless, but his polite, gentle manner made a strong impression, just as everyone had always said about him.
As someone raised in a land steeped in etiquette, Ark instinctively behaved with grace. Even when surrounded by a bunch of rowdy kids, he refused to be discourteous. His soul was older, more mature, and it showed in the warmth of his demeanor.
And so, he barely noticed the rest of the Sorting Ceremony. By the time he realized, it was already over.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, and to a brand new chapter of your lives!"
At some point, Dumbledore had risen to his feet, beaming as he spread his arms wide.
"Before we begin the feast, I have only a few words to say. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
Instantly, the four long House tables filled with mountains of food, the air rich with mouthwatering aromas.
"Dig in," Dumbledore said cheerfully.
With that, the feast began.
Even Ark couldn't resist. Forget puzzling over Dumbledore's nonsense speech—the smell of roasted meats and buttered bread was far too tempting. He seized knife and fork and dug in eagerly.
After all, the Hogwarts Express had run since morning without serving a proper meal. Aside from a few snacks bought on the train, none of the students had eaten all day.
Everyone was starving, ravenous as though they hadn't seen food in years.
Ark ate heartily, savoring every bite. He still ate neatly, but his pace was quick—he was already reaching for a second steak.
Back home, the best he ever had was a fish he'd caught himself, and even then, true treats were rare. Out in that remote countryside, fine cuisine simply didn't exist.
This feast, by comparison, was easily the most sumptuous meal he'd had all year.
When the food was finally gone, Dumbledore laid down a few rules, gave some warnings, and then dismissed everyone.
Ark rose with the other Ravenclaws and followed them out of the Great Hall…