The first-year students walked into the Great Hall with heavy hearts. After all, Ron Weasley had spent the entire walk speculating about which terrifying opponent they might have to face in the Sorting Ceremony—listing possibilities that ranged from giants to griffins.
He finished with, "Fred said it hurt loads when they made him do it, but… I think he was joking."However, judging by Ron's pale face, no one found it funny.
Professor McGonagall led the students into a small, empty chamber at the far end of the hall. They rushed inside, bumping shoulders, each nervously examining the room as if danger might leap out at any moment.
A little girl with rosy cheeks and two golden braids stood beside Kevin Goldsmith, nearly in tears. "What will they make us deal with? And why am I always the first in line? Why me?"
"Don't worry," Hermione whispered. "This is a school. They wouldn't make us do anything dangerous. It's probably just reciting something. I've memorised all the textbooks. I only hope it works."
Hermione's attempt at comfort had the opposite effect.
"I can't even memorise a single chapter! Everyone will laugh at me," the girl cried.
"If they laugh at you, I'll show them the power of magic," Kevin murmured.What he meant was: "If they laugh at me, I'll show them the power of magic—and earn some experience points."But the trembling girl took it as genuine reassurance.
"Thank you," she whispered. "I never thought anyone would say something like that to me…"
Kevin flushed slightly and began pulling from his stock of tabletop-RPG encouragement speeches. "You're braver than you think. Go forward with confidence, no matter what. Every person has a sleeping lion inside them—you only need to wake it."
Professor McGonagall stepped ahead, placing an ancient, frayed, patch-covered pointed hat upon a stool. After the ragged hat finished its dreadful song, she unrolled a parchment.
"Now, when I call your name, put on the hat, sit on the stool, and wait to be Sorted," she instructed. "Hannah Abbott!"
The girl with golden braids straightened her back and marched towards the stool.
In many parallel universes she would have been a Hufflepuff, but this time she kept repeating in her head, I'm braver than I thought, I'm braver than I thought, and the hat had barely touched her head when it roared:
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Next came the others. Unsurprisingly, Gryffindor became the house of the protagonists—Hermione, Neville, Harry, and Ron were all sorted there. Malfoy and his hulking shadows went to Slytherin. Eventually it was Kevin's turn.
He placed the hat upon his head.
The magic hat pressed softly against his mind, seeing not what he possessed, but what he longed for.
Slytherin's Head seems quite decent. I rather like Professor Snape's ideas on public service, Kevin thought, influenced by his game-world preconceptions.
"No," the hat said flatly.
"Is it because I'm not a pure-blood wizard?"
"That's not the main reason. I'm not even certain you're a wizard. More importantly—you lack ambition."
"I'm planning to dominate the world! How is that lacking ambition?"
"You know perfectly well that wanting to make the world better is not the same as wanting to rule it."
"I… suppose. I don't know what's better," Kevin thought, recalling the tragedies of cyberbullying and people broken under pressure. "But I hope more people will say no to injustice. At least—I'll start with myself."
"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat bellowed.
Applause broke out. Hannah Abbott clapped especially loudly.
Kevin joined the Gryffindor table, Hannah immediately sliding into the seat beside him for reasons he couldn't quite explain.
Dumbledore rose, stepping to the podium. The feast was moments away—but Kevin suddenly remembered his plan to test the joke tea.
Hermione had said Dumbledore was the greatest wizard alive. Could he resist the tea's absurd magic?
Kevin took a sip of the bright green drink, fixed his eyes on the Headmaster, and waited.
Dumbledore spread his arms wide, smiling warmly.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, allow me to mention two things: Idiot! Crybaby! Scratch! Twister! Thank you!"
He sat down.
Kevin's tea dribbled from his lips. He stared at the can in horror.
Even the greatest wizard in the world can be affected… This tea is invincible.Once he accepted this setting, he would become invincible.
Food appeared across the tables, but Kevin barely noticed.
"Are you alright?" Hannah whispered. "Do you feel ill?"
"I'm fine," Kevin replied, staring into the middle distance. "I'm just thinking about what to include in the first five-year plan of the new world."
Hermione sighed to Hannah. "Ignore him. He has a… slight problem."
Kevin turned to her. "Do you know any magic that can change a person's sense of humour?"
"Well," she muttered, "perhaps more than a slight problem…"
Suddenly Harry clutched his forehead.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked.
"I looked at Snape, and my scar hurt," Harry said.
Every head turned toward a professor with lank, greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.
"Professor Severus Snape, born 1960," Hermione recited automatically. "Appointed Potions Master by Albus Dumbledore in 1981. Became Head of Slytherin House in 1991. Hogwarts: A History, page 371."
"Fred and George say he's a nasty bloke and horribly biased toward Slytherins," Ron added. "They also said he has bat blood and can read minds, and that shampoo catches fire on his hair—but I'm pretty sure they made the last one up."
"Is it possible," Kevin suggested cautiously, "that he simply has a fierce appearance, but deep down he's a good person who silently protects his students?"
"Yes!" Hannah said earnestly. "A person's dress sense—or hygiene—doesn't determine their morality."
Ron looked betrayed. "Hermione said you were mad. I didn't believe her at first."
"As he hasn't actually done anything, let's at least give him a chance," Harry said, unwilling to argue. "Who wants black pudding?"