On the raised platform, the Sorting Hat — patched, weathered, and ancient — suddenly split down the brim with a slow, jagged tear, revealing what passed for its "mouth."
And then it began to sing.
Some nonsensical ballad, completely deranged, and somehow still managing to rhyme. (No need to quote it — we'll spare the parchment.)
When it finished, thunderous applause erupted across the Great Hall. The hat bowed deeply to each of the four house tables in turn before going utterly still again, as though it had never moved.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward, parchment in hand, and raised her voice crisply through the echoing hall.
"The following students, when your name is called, please come forward, sit on the stool, and put on the Sorting Hat."
She paused.
"Er... solid iron? Sorry — Hannah Abbott!"
McGonagall frowned at her own slip, giving her head a slight shake.
A rather flustered Hannah Abbott scampered to the front. The moment the Sorting Hat touched her head, it bellowed:
"Hufflepuff!"
A cheer rose from the Hufflepuff table, whooped and whistled like they'd just recruited their new MVP.
More names followed, each child taking their place on the stool, met with cheers from whichever house claimed them. Gryffindor was especially loud, and two red-haired boys actually booed when someone got sent to Slytherin.
And then...
"Alex Gunter!"
As soon as Professor McGonagall called the name, a wave of attention rippled across the Hall.
On the platform, several teachers turned their heads.
At the Slytherin table, heads craned forward, students sitting up straighter. The name Gunter wasn't just familiar — it was ancient. A name tied to the blood of Salazar Slytherin himself.
Even among the first-years, a small brunette with a messy halo of curls looked up in surprise.
Alex ignored them all. Calm, collected, his face unreadable.
He walked to the stool under the weight of dozens of stares.
He looked down at the Sorting Hat with a frown of distaste, like someone being asked to wear a very old, very smelly sock.
Then, with visible reluctance, he placed it on his head.
...
"Ah, another stubborn brat," the hat grumbled in his mind. "Let me guess — you've decided you know better than a thousand years of sorting wisdom?"
"Nice to meet you too," Alex replied dryly. "You're the great Sorting Hat, yeah? How is it no one's thought to give you a proper wash?"
"Someone did. Threw me into the Black Lake two centuries ago. Gryffindor lad. Thought he was being clever."
"Right. That explains the swampy musk."
The hat gave a mental snort.
"You're practically singing Slytherin from every drop of blood in your veins. Heritage, ambition, cunning — you're a perfect fit."
"Sly—"
"Don't finish that word."
Alex clenched his thoughts tightly, repeating like a mantra: Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw. Ravenclaw.
"But why? You do thirst for knowledge, yes, but it's more than that. The power in you... you could make a name in Slytherin."
"Power doesn't define me," Alex countered. "Blood doesn't either. I want a place where my mind can grow. Where I'm not defined by my surname."
"You'd thrive in Slytherin."
"I'd rather live in Ravenclaw."
The hat paused.
"You'd clean me if I let you go to Ravenclaw?"
"Deal."
"Hah! Oh, Rowena's going to laugh her hat off when she hears I gave up a Slytherin heir for a good rinse."
The hat hesitated. Then, with theatrical volume:
"RAVENCLAW!"
The Hall froze.
A half-formed "Sly–" had hung on the air, but it died as the Sorting Hat's shout changed direction mid-word.
The silence that followed was deafening.
Even the staff table blinked in surprise.
Professor Snape looked like he'd just swallowed a live toad. The air around him dropped five degrees.
It was unheard of — never in Hogwarts' thousand-year history had a student openly rejected the Sorting Hat's will and changed the house they were destined for.
And now, right in front of everyone, Alex Gunter, direct descendant of the Slytherin line, had chosen not to walk the path laid before him.
Dumbledore's eyes gleamed behind his half-moon spectacles.
He hadn't expected this. He had plans for that boy. But this — this made things interesting.
Meanwhile, the Slytherin table stewed in fury. Their jaws clenched, their gazes sharp. Some of them glared as though they'd like nothing more than to duel Alex on the spot.
Alex didn't care.
He stood, removed the Sorting Hat from his head, and — much to everyone's shock — pointed his wand at it.
"Aguamenti!"
A jet of fresh, clean water blasted the hat.
"OH! AH! Merlin's beard! That's the stuff!"
The hat moaned in pleasure. "YES! You're a keeper, kid. Keep going! Right on the brim — ohhh yes, that's been itchy for years."
Alex, expression neutral, turned and walked toward the Ravenclaw table, leaving the hat drenched and babbling on the stool.
Applause burst from Ravenclaw and Gryffindor alike.
"Nice one, Alex!"
"Should've been in Gryffindor, mate!"
Two redheads near the Gryffindor table stood up and whistled.
"Gunter's got guts!" one of them yelled.
The other was quickly pulled back down by a scowling older brother.
Alex reached the Ravenclaw table and sat down beside Cho. She looked at him with eyes wide, cheeks flushed with excitement.
"I told you I'd try," Alex whispered.
"Welcome to Ravenclaw," she said, beaming. Her fingers slipped into his under the table.
Alex squeezed gently, and the moment lingered, warm and private amid the chaos.
...
The ceremony moved on.
Hermione Granger gave Alex a curious glance before being sorted into Gryffindor.
Then came Harry Potter.
The Hall exploded when he was sorted — also into Gryffindor. The twins nearly flipped the table screaming, "WE GOT HARRY! WE GOT HARRY!"
But Alex barely noticed.
He and Cho were deep in hushed conversation, their hands still intertwined.
Several Ravenclaw girls down the table exchanged sour glances.
Great. They finally get a handsome new first-year... and Cho immediately claims him.
...
The Sorting Ceremony ended.
Dumbledore rose.
The students quieted, eyes fixed on the eccentric, brilliant man who stood at the head of it all.
His eyes twinkled.
"Welcome, welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we feast, I have only a few words to say: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
He sat down.
A moment passed. Then the golden plates filled with food — mountains of it. Roasted meats, fresh bread, pumpkin juice, and a hundred things Alex couldn't name.
The Feast had begun.
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