The ceiling of the Great Hall reflected the night sky, its stars scattered like fine dust.
The first-years stood in a line in the open space before the staff table.
Professor McGonagall held a roll of parchment, which unrolled with a crisp snap.
“When I call your name, please step forward, sit down, and put on the Sorting Hat!”
The patched hat on the three-legged stool had just finished a lengthy sorting song.
Evelyn hadn’t really heard the lyrics; she was too busy counting the candles floating below the ceiling.
Three hundred and seventy-two.
No, wait, she’d missed one in the third row on the right.
“Abbott, Hannah!”
A girl with pigtails stumbled forward and sat down, the hat slipping right down over her eyes.
“HUFFLEPUFF!”
The second table from the right erupted in applause.
“Granger, Hermione!”
Hermione clutched the hem of her robes and walked up, muttering frantically under her breath—probably reciting some passage from *Hogwarts: A History*.
The hat dropped onto her head, remaining silent for about ten seconds.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Hermione hopped off the stool and whispered as she passed Evelyn, “The hat can read minds.
You’d better watch out with those criminal schemes of yours!”
“Don’t worry.
The only thing on my mind is what’s for dinner.”
Hermione shot her a highly skeptical look before hurrying over to the Gryffindor table.
“Malign, Draco!” No, “Malfoy, Draco!”
The blonde boy stepped forward, chin held high.
The hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, “SLYTHERIN!”
Draco adjusted his collar and walked toward the Slytherin table.
As he passed Evelyn, his stride faltered for a fraction of a second.
Evelyn gave him a thumbs-up.
Draco nearly tripped over his own robes.
Draco: (angry expression)
“Potter, Harry!”
The Great Hall fell dead silent in an instant.
The dark-haired boy sat on the stool for a long time.
The hat slid down past his ears, and his lips twitched as if he were arguing with it.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
The Gryffindor table exploded!
Fred and George stood on top of the table, chanting in unison, “We got Potter!
We got Potter!”
Evelyn waited as the names rolled down to the V’s.
“Valentine, Evelyn!”
She stepped toward the three-legged stool, her boots clicking crisply against the stone floor.
At the staff table, Severus Snape’s posture stiffened even further.
Evelyn sat down, and the brim of the hat slid toward her forehead.
The moment the hat touched her hair, its rip ripped open wide, as if it had just been electrocuted!
The entire Great Hall heard the sound that tore from the Sorting Hat.
It was a shrill, piercing shriek that rattled everyone’s eardrums.
“AZ—KA—BAN!”
The applause died instantly.
Every smile froze in place.
At the Gryffindor table, Hermione’s hand, holding a glass of pumpkin juice, froze mid-air.
Hermione: (꒪⌓꒪∥)
At the Slytherin table, Draco sat bolt upright, his fingers gripping the edge of the table.
At the center of the staff table, Albus Dumbledore’s half-moon spectacles slid down to the tip of his nose.
Fred and George were still standing on their table, their faces masks of pure shock.
Fred & George: (⊙ω⊙;)
Snape’s right hand rested on the table, his index finger twitching slightly.
Professor McGonagall glanced back at Dumbledore, but Dumbledore remained silent.
The entire Great Hall plunged into a bizarre, vacuum-like silence.
Evelyn sat on the stool, the hat resting heavy on her hair.
She pushed the brim up a little to reveal her eyes.
“What did you just say?”
The rip in the hat was trembling; the entire fabric was shaking.
“You…
in your head…
those things…”
“What things?”
“You plan to train the Giant Squid into a mount!
You want to breed water monkeys in the prefects’ bathroom!
You’re planning to use Muggle explosives to blow open the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!
And you also want to…”
The hat’s voice grew louder and shriller.
“You want to stuff the Dark Lord into a pink maid outfit!”
Once again, the entire hall fell into a dead silence.
Snape picked up the cup in front of him and took a massive gulp. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Draco’s lips silently mouthed the words: *pink maid outfit*.
Evelyn patted the top of the hat.
“Those are long-term plans.
What do they have to do with sorting?”
“Everything!
A brain like yours cannot be put into any house!
You will destroy Hogwarts!
Send her to Azkaban!
Lock her up!
Bolt the door!
Throw the key into the sea!”
Evelyn paused for two seconds.
She reached into the folds of her robes and pulled something out.
It wasn’t a baseball bat, but a wand.
It was a temporary replacement authorized by Dumbledore, not yet officially registered.
She pressed the tip of the wand right against the center of the hat’s forehead.
Every single professor stood up at once!
Professor McGonagall took half a step forward.
Dumbledore raised a hand, signaling her to halt.
Evelyn looked down at the hat, her voice soft and perfectly level.
“Mr.
Hat.”
“…What?”
“I only know one spell right now, and I read it in a textbook.
I haven’t practiced it, so I can’t guarantee what will happen.”
“W-What are you trying to do?”
“I’m giving you a chance to rephrase your words.”
She slid the wand’s tip down two inches, pressing it right against the corner of the rip that served as its mouth.
“Azkaban.
You got that word wrong, didn’t you?”
The hat’s entire fabric went into spasms.
At the staff table, Professor Flitwick slipped right off his chair, leaving only the top of his hair visible above the table.
Professor Sprout gripped her butter knife, pointing it in an indeterminate direction.
Snape set down his cup.
He made no move to stop her.
Instead, he leaned back in his chair, arms crossed over his chest, looking like a middle-aged employee who had just been told he had to work overtime until midnight.
Snape: (ㅎ_ㅎ )
“Are you threatening me?” the hat’s voice trembled.
“I am negotiating with you.
Amicably.”
“This is not a negotiation!
You’ve shoved your wand right into my mouth!”
“I’m just letting you inspect the quality of this wand to help you make a more rational decision.”
The hat had never encountered anything like this.
It had existed for a thousand years.
It had dealt with students who begged, students who cried, but never once had someone jammed a wand right in its face.
“You are the Sorting Hat, not the Sentencing Hat.”
Evelyn’s voice didn’t rise, and the tip of her wand didn’t budge an inch.
“Your job is to sort me into a house and tell me which table to sit at.
That is all.”
The hat shook for three seconds.
“…You are indeed very brave.”
“So, Gryffindor?”
“No.
There is a massive amount of sheer, unreasonable audacity in your bravery.
Gryffindor can’t contain you.”
“Slytherin?”
“Slytherin values cunning and methods.
You don’t use methods at all—you only deal in physical force.”
The hat’s voice grew fainter and fainter.
“Ravenclaw is out of the question too.
Your attitude toward knowledge is purely utilitarian.
You’d drive Ravenclaw to an early grave.”
Evelyn tilted her head.
“Then there’s only one left.”
The hat remained silent for five whole seconds.
Not a single soul in the Great Hall spoke.
Hermione set her pumpkin juice down, her hands clasped tightly against her chest.
Fred leaned over the table, his mouth silently forming the words: *Say it, just say it.*
George mouthed along in perfect sync beside him.
The hat took a deep, deep breath.
A hat didn’t need to breathe, but it went through the motions anyway.
“HUFF—LE—PUFF!”
The Hufflepuff table was stunned for half a beat, and then it erupted into the wildest, most thunderous applause of the entire night! Enjoying the story? Read on at g.com.
An older girl with short hair stood up and slammed her hands on the table.
“Hufflepuff got a new one!
One who can cure the Sorting Hat!”
Evelyn took off the hat and placed it back onto the three-legged stool.
The hat collapsed into a heap, its brim drooping, its rip half-open as if it had just taken a heavy blow to the head.
Sorting Hat: ( ×_×;)
Slipping her temporary wand back into her robes, she walked toward the Hufflepuff table.
As she passed the Gryffindor table, Hermione reached out and snagged her sleeve.
“You just pointed your wand at the Sorting Hat!
That is a thousand-year-old historical artifact!”
“It insulted me first.”
“It was just a slightly terrifying diagnostic result!”
“That doesn’t give it the right to throw around wild diagnoses.”
Hermione sniffed, sat back down, and held her textbook up to hide her face.
Hermione: (ᗒ̥ᗣᗕ̥ )
Evelyn kept walking.
As she passed the Slytherin table, Draco was staring intently at his plate, the tips of his ears flushed a deep red.
He was stirring his pumpkin soup with a spoon.
He had stirred it seventeen times without taking a single sip.
Evelyn paused a step behind him.
“Malfoy.”
Draco’s spoon froze.
“How long did your sorting take?”
“A second.”
“Quick.
I almost had to scrap mine.”
Draco didn’t turn around.
“You’re insane.”
“The hat started it.”
“You pointed your wand at it!”
“I point my wand at a lot of things.
You don’t need to feel pressured.”
Draco gripped his spoon tighter, his shoulders hunching slightly.
“Stay away from me, Valentine.”
“Your soup is getting cold.”
Evelyn walked away.
Draco looked down at his pumpkin soup and gave it an eighteenth stir.
At the staff table, Dumbledore picked up his pumpkin juice and took a sip, his gentle smile revealing absolutely nothing.
Snape stood up, swept around the staff table, and walked up behind Dumbledore.
“Headmaster, this student needs to be re-evaluated.”
“Severus, the Sorting Hat’s decision is final.”
“The hat made its decision under duress.”
“From what I observed, the hat made its choice autonomously after evaluating all the options.
The wand merely accelerated its thinking process.”
Snape stared at Dumbledore for three seconds.
“She plans to stuff the Dark Lord into a pink maid outfit.”
“Young people, Severus, must have dreams.”
“Albus.”
“Lemon drop?” Dumbledore pulled a sweet from his pocket.
Snape turned and swept away.
His robes rustled as they swept across the stone floor.
Halfway down the hall, he paused, his gaze sweeping over the Hufflepuff table.
Evelyn was already sitting among her new housemates, holding a cup of pumpkin juice in her left hand and gesturing with her right.
The older girl next to her was doubled over with laughter.
Snape withdrew his gaze and kept walking.
Text flickered across Evelyn’s retina.
[Ding!
Sorting Ceremony chaos evaluation complete.
Sorting Hat trauma level: B+.]
[Mischief Points +250!
Current total: 1180.]
[Bonus Debuff triggered: “Physical Deliverance” action was too aggressive.
For the next 24 hours, every time you draw your wand, soap bubbles will automatically float from the tip.]
Evelyn put down her pumpkin juice and looked down at the temporary wand in her lap.
A small, iridescent bubble was drifting from the tip of the wand.
*Pop.* It burst.
The Hufflepuffs watched the bubbles, their expressions a mix of confusion and amusement.
The ghost of the Fat Friar, sitting opposite her, drifted over and curiously poked his face toward the tip of her wand.
A second bubble floated straight through his nose.
Evelyn tucked her wand away and picked up a fork.
“Excuse me,” she said, looking at the older girl beside her.
“How far is the Hufflepuff common room from the kitchens?”