The rumors about the entrance exam had done serious psychological damage to nearly everyone.
At the very least, when groups of ghosts suddenly floated through the walls into the waiting chamber, barely any first-years even noticed them.
Even the students who did notice simply assumed stress had made them hallucinate.
Most only glanced briefly before returning to their panic.
“Hey!
What’re you lot doing here?”
The ghosts themselves finally noticed the children gathered below.
“Oh—”
The line of first-years stirred uneasily as whispers and startled gasps spread through the crowd.
A fat ghost dressed like a monk smiled warmly.
“New students, eh?
Waiting here for the test, I suppose?”
Several students silently nodded.
Those who remained motionless grew even more miserable.
The ghost’s words completely confirmed the existence of the rumored entrance exam.
Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, and Draco Malfoy all belonged firmly to that category.
Nobody paid attention to whatever the ghosts said afterward.
Because Minerva McGonagall had returned.
“Form a single line and follow me.”
The first-years obeyed immediately.
Everyone terrified of the “entrance exam” felt as though their legs had been filled with lead, yet they still shuffled into formation one miserable step at a time.
Harry stood behind Ron.
Behind Harry was Neville Longbottom.
Further back stood Draco and his two bodyguards.
As for Ivy Doom—
He casually slipped into the line wherever he pleased.
After all, he already knew the order meant absolutely nothing to the Sorting itself.
The procession passed through enormous double doors and entered a magnificent hall.
Four long tables filled with gleaming gold and silver dishes stretched across the chamber.
Students from every House sat watching the first-years curiously.
At the far end stood a raised platform where the professors sat in a single line facing the newcomers.
Hundreds upon hundreds of floating candles illuminated the hall.
Magic prevented wax from dripping onto the expensive floors, and no smoke stained the enchanted ceiling above.
And speaking of the ceiling—
The ceiling of the Great Hall was perhaps one of the most magical ceilings in existence.
Enchantment made it appear exactly like the night sky outside.
“It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside.
I read about it in Hogwarts: A History.”
Harry heard Hermione’s voice nearby and immediately regretted not following Ivy’s advice to properly read the massive book.
Unfortunately, Harry’s regret was quickly interrupted.
Then she set an ancient, patched, filthy pointed hat on top of it.
Dust and pudding crumbs nearly shook loose from the thing.
Generally speaking, when an object that shabby appears somewhere grand and important, there are only two possibilities:
Either it possesses immense historical significance—
Or it is absolutely essential.
For the Sorting Hat, both were true.
“So there’s no written exam…” Harry thought nervously.
“That’s even worse.
It looks like we’re supposed to perform magic instead.
What am I supposed to do?
Pull a rabbit out of the hat?
And what rabbit would willingly crawl into something that filthy?”
While Harry’s mind spiraled into chaos, the hat suddenly moved.
A wide slit opened like a mouth.
Then it began to sing:
“You can keep your bowlers shiny black,
And polish up your silken hats…”
(Except during winter, Ivy never wore hats.
Though now that magic existed, he didn’t wear them even in winter anymore.)
“But I’m the Hogwarts Sorting Hat,
Much finer than your common caps!”
(There are social classes among hats now?
First I’ve heard of it.)
(…The song continued with excessive praise for the founders and a subtle jab at Slytherin…)
“So put me on!
Don’t be afraid!
Don’t lose your nerve or panic!”
(The only thing panicking should be my hair.
It’s about to get dirty again.)
“For I can keep you safe and sound—
Though I haven’t any hands!”
(Aside from becoming filthier, you really haven’t changed much in a hundred years.)
“Because I am a Thinking Hat!”
(Infusing thoughts into objects…
now that’s a research topic worth studying.
Though how exactly am I supposed to trick Dumbledore into giving you to me?)
By the time the Sorting Hat finished singing, Ivy had also finished wandering through his own thoughts.
Ahead of him, Ron whispered:
“So all we have to do is wear the hat?
You think Ivy was lying?
Maybe he’s not really a hundred-year-old wizard after all.
Maybe he doesn’t know ancient magic either.
He’s not even taller than me!”
Harry stared at him in horror.
“Professor McGonagall is looking at you, Ron.”
Ron instantly turned stiff as stone and rotated his head forward as though absolutely nothing had happened.
“Now,” Professor McGonagall announced, “when I call your name, you will put on the hat, sit on the stool, and be Sorted.”
She lowered her gaze to the list in her hands.
“Hannah Abbott!”
“Hufflepuff!”
“Susan Bones!”
“Hufflepuff!”
Beginning with Susan Bones, McGonagall continued through the students whose surnames started with “B.”
Eventually, the last of them, Millicent Bulstrode, was sorted into Slytherin House.
Then came the letter “D.”
There were apparently no students this year with surnames beginning with “C.”
“Ivy Doom!”
Ivy stepped out from the line and walked calmly toward the Sorting Hat—
Like a king approaching his crown.
“We meet again…” the Sorting Hat whispered quietly.
“Still the same choice?
Some things never change.”
“Of course,” Ivy replied silently in his mind.
“But my ambitions have grown far grander now.”
“Exceptionally ambitious…
truly a perfect—”
“SLYTHERIN!”
The Sorting Hat shouted the result across the Great Hall.
Ivy removed the hat, carefully placed it back at the center of the stool, nodded politely toward Professor McGonagall, and turned to join the Slytherin table.
The Sorting moved quickly afterward.
Hermione and Harry both ended up exactly where they hoped:
Gryffindor House.
Only a handful of first-years remained.
Besides Ron Weasley, whose surname began with “W,” there was also a girl whose surname started with “V.”
“Cassandra Vole!”
The blonde-haired girl stepped forward without looking away from the front even once.
She placed the battered Sorting Hat perfectly straight atop her head.
“SLYTHERIN!”
This time, the hat barely hesitated at all.
(End of Chapter)