When Dumbledore saw Sherlock holding the Sorting Hat in his hands and turning it over carefully instead of putting it straight on, his interest was piqued along with McGonagall’s.
Leaning slightly forward, Dumbledore narrowed his eyes at Sherlock, though he made no move to stop him.
Fortunately, Sherlock’s inspection did not last long.
Soon enough, he plopped the hat onto his head with a quick snap.
By its appearance alone, one could tell the hat was ancient—crusted with dirt, slick with grease, and exuding a heavy stench of scalp oil.
*I thought I was unkempt, but people in the wizarding world care even less about hygiene…* *Ugh, and the last boy who wore this was a baker’s son…* As Sherlock was thinking, a small voice whispered right in his ear: “Oh, I’m terribly sorry to disgust you, but I’m merely a hat.
I have no way of washing myself…
Though, how on earth did you know the previous boy was a baker’s son?” Sherlock paused, startled, before his eyes lit up.
“Fascinating.
You can read human thoughts?” To think a mere hat could catch his inner monologue—the magical world was indeed full of wonder!
“No, no, no—merely surface thoughts, and only if you haven’t intentionally hidden them.
I’m no Dark artifact, so I lack the skill of Legilimency.” After explaining, the hat pressed on, “So…
care to answer my question now?” Sensing the hat’s persistence, and intrigued by the object itself, Sherlock obliged: “Elementary deduction.
The brim of your hat has specks of tinfoil and white flour residue adhering to it, alongside a faint aroma of wheat that temporarily masked the greasy odor.
Of course, one could already deduce his family background from the boy’s demeanor; these details were merely further confirmation.” “Fascinating!
Brilliant!
“Unrivaled intellect, admirable courage, a truly kind heart, and an inclination to act with total disregard for rules…
Difficult, so very difficult!
“Disdaining authority, challenging regulations…
You could be great, you know.
Slytherin would aid you on the path to greatness, no doubt about it.
“Wise, erudite, devoted to research, with a boundless thirst for the unknown…
Yes, Ravenclaw would elevate your keen eyes and sharp mind to even greater heights.
“Your desire is to champion good, destroy evil, and combat crime?
Oh my, what a pity—if Lady Hufflepuff were still around, she would adore you!
“Yet your reckless, unyielding courage is even more captivating…
If I don’t put you in Gryffindor, Professor McGonagall will surely flay me alive…
“This is too hard!” “…” Sensing the Sorting Hat’s inner turmoil, Sherlock remarked calmly, “On that note, I tend to believe courage is merely a polite word for foolishness.” And just like that, Sherlock engaged in a warm, friendly chat with the hat.
In the Great Hall of Hogwarts, during the First Years’ Sorting Ceremony, the entire school fell into silence.
Was it…
really that difficult?
The girl right before him had already taken quite a long time, but this boy was taking even longer?
Noticing Sherlock’s long, thin aquiline nose, quite a few upper-class girls privately noted down the boy’s name: Sherlock Holmes.
Outside, the whispers and chatter grew louder, yet Sherlock remained oblivious to it all.
Not that he would have cared even if he knew.
At that moment, he was having a splendid conversation with the hat: “What?
I can see it clearly—you don’t lack courage at all.
Fearless bravery could make you a hero…” “Don’t turn people into heroes.
Heroes don’t exist, and even if they did, I wouldn’t be one of them.” “B-but…” “Sentiment is a chemical defect found on the losing side; intelligence is the new sexy.” “…” The Sorting Hat was in an immense dilemma.
This young wizard exhibited traits of all four houses; in theory, placing him in any of them would work.
However, as its conversation with Sherlock deepened, the hat began to lean a certain way—primarily torn between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
Originally, the hat intended to place him in Ravenclaw.
After all, Sherlock had said it himself: intelligence was the new sexy.
However…
Before finalizing the decision, the hat sharply picked up on an issue.
It realized that Sherlock only sought out and acquired knowledge if it served a practical purpose for him.
This diverged from the true essence of Ravenclaw.
On anyone else, this minor nuance would be harmless.
On Sherlock, however, it became the decisive factor.
Sherlock viewed knowledge purely as a tool—learning what was useful and ignoring what wasn’t—unlike a true Ravenclaw, who possessed an innate, pure longing and pursuit for knowledge itself.
On the other hand, his bravery was beyond reproach; he possessed an insatiable desire for adventure, and his inner courage was more than enough to sweep aside any obstacle.
Even though Sherlock claimed courage was merely a substitute word for foolishness, it presented no contradiction for him personally.
Because he was genuinely fearless.
The little eagles of Ravenclaw would spend their time buried in books, having no patience to accompany him on wild adventures.
Gryffindor was different.
The little lions would jump at the chance to team up with him.
Finally, when Sherlock learned from the hat that Ravenclaw was packed with human “databases,” his eyes lit up.
*Wonderful!* That way, whenever he needed information, he could simply ask them instead of wasting time learning it himself.
Leaving him far more time to explore.
And so, after lingering in indecision for a long while, the hat respected Sherlock’s own implicit inclination and made its final decree.
“GRYFFINDOR!” Sherlock took off the hat, said goodbye to it, and walked over to the Gryffindor table.
“Congratulations!” Hermione was delighted to see someone she knew sorted into her house.
She was just about to say something more when Ron’s older brothers, the Weasley twins, pushed their way over: “We were just saying Miss Granger nearly had a Hatstall, but here comes a real Hatstall!” “A Hatstall?
What’s that?” Hearing a new term, Sherlock’s interest was piqued at once.
“It means making the hat get stuck in a fix.” “Because it can’t figure out which house to throw you in.” “You two, shut up!” Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor prefect—and older brother to both the twins and Ron—rubbed his temples, speaking with exasperation.
“They’re notorious troublemakers throughout Hogwarts.
Holmes, don’t listen to a word of their nonsense.” Ever since becoming a prefect, Percy had been striving to perform his duties well.
Case in point: he believed it was a prefect’s sacred duty to maintain the house’s dignified image before the first years.
Thus, he could not allow the twins to lead a new student like Sherlock astray—even if they were his own younger brothers!
He then provided Sherlock with the official definition of a Hatstall and introduced himself along the way.