The Ravenclaw dormitory was quiet.
Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, painting the stone walls silver. Around him, other first-years were already asleep—soft breathing, an occasional mutter, the rustle of blankets. Alexander lay on his back, hands folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
Sleep refused to come.
Instead, his mind drifted.
Back—not to Hogwarts—but to Earth.
Too late nights hunched over a laptop.
To forums.
To comment on sections that never slept.
He remembered a conversation clearly. Too clearly.
A fellow Harry Potter fanatic. Username something like HousePride1991. The kind who typed essays in response to jokes.
Alexander had written it half as a joke back then.
"The Sorting Hat is low-key racist."
The reply had been instant.
"That's not how personality-based sorting works."
Alexander snorted silently into his pillow.
Sure, it isn't.
He replayed his argument in his head, word for word.
First example.
Him.
Asian.
Sorted into Ravenclaw.
"Yes, yes," he muttered quietly, "I'm smart. Thank you. Thumbs up for me."
Second example.
Cho Chang.
Asian.
Also Ravenclaw.
Coincidence? Maybe once. Twice? Suspicious.
Third example.
Online surveys.
Oh, the surveys.
Pottermore knockoffs. Buzzfeed quizzes. Long personality tests that are definitely claimed to be unbiased.
"Pick your favorite weather."
"Pick your favorite animal."
"Pick a hobby."
Alexander mentally counted.
Studious answers? Ravenclaw.
Quiet answers? Ravenclaw.
Likes books? Ravenclaw.
Doesn't want to punch people for fun? Ravenclaw.
"And guess who answers like that?" he whispered. "Asians."
He remembered typing furiously:
"Every Asian I know gets Ravenclaw. Every. Single. Time."
The reply:
"That just means they're intelligent."
Alexander had nearly flipped his desk.
"Or," he'd typed back, "it means the system equates intelligence with a stereotype."
Fourth example.
Media.
How many Asian Gryffindors could he name?
One?
Two?
How many Asian characters are in Harry Potter at all?
Exactly.
And of those—
Ravenclaw.
Ravenclaw.
Ravenclaw.
"No jock Asians," he whispered dramatically. "No reckless idiots. No 'hold my butterbeer' energy allowed."
Fifth example.
The Sorting Hat itself.
Ancient.
British.
Lived in a time when seasoning was considered suspicious.
"That thing was made before electricity," he muttered. "You're telling me it doesn't have bias?"
In his memory, the forum conversation ended with:
"You're overthinking it."
Alexander scoffed silently.
No. I'm underthinking how obvious it is.
He sighed, finally feeling the edge of sleep creep in.
"Ravenclaw," he whispered to the ceiling. "Because I'm Asian. Not because I'm smart. Definitely not because I'm creative. Absolutely not."
He closed his eyes.
The castle creaked softly around him, ancient and listening.
"Stupid hat," Alexander mumbled as sleep finally claimed him.
Somewhere far below, in a place that definitely could not hear him—
The Sorting Hat sneezed.