Brian was deep in thought; everything that had just happened made him wonder how he might convince the Sorting Hat to place him in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. After all, the only precedent he knew of was Harry repeatedly muttering that he didn't want to be in Slytherin in the movie—a rather unreliable example. It left Brian without a proper strategy.
Meanwhile, Harry was starting to panic. He had just learned from Ron about the entrance examination. He hadn't been able to perform any magic yet, and the thought of having to demonstrate his abilities in front of the entire school—staff and students alike—felt like a death sentence. To make matters worse, he wasn't even sure he could get into Gryffindor.
Harry glanced at the distracted Brian, nudged his shoulder, and whispered, "Brian, which house do you want to be in?"
Brian was about to answer when a sharp voice cut through the hall:"Now, form a single line and follow me. Everyone, move forward!"
Professor McGonagall had returned. Brian didn't get the chance to answer before Harry and Ron were led to the front of the line by the professor.
Fortunately, Professor McGonagall paid no attention to Brian from start to finish. It seemed Brian's earlier guess was right—she had only been interested in Harry.
Brian joined the line at the back, following the young wizards into the Great Hall where the feast was to be held.
The Hall was massive, easily holding thousands of students, all seated around four long tables—one for each House. The tables were lined with gleaming gold and silver platters and an assortment of goblets. Thousands of floating candles hovered in the air, casting warm light over the scene. Looking up, Brian saw the enchanted ceiling reflecting the brilliant, starry night sky outside the castle.
At the very front was a raised table for the professors and Headmaster Dumbledore. He sat in the center, wearing a flowing black robe. His silver-white hair and beard were both long and immaculate, with the beard trailing below the table. A pair of half-moon spectacles perched on his nose, and his deep blue eyes twinkled with wisdom. Dumbledore watched the approaching first-years with amused interest.
Brian's gaze shifted. To Dumbledore's left was an empty seat—likely reserved for Professor McGonagall. To his right sat a thin, sallow-skinned professor whose cold gaze was unsettling. His deep-set, tunnel-like eyes were fixed on Harry. His greasy black hair hung limp around his shoulders, making him look like someone unfamiliar with the concept of hygiene.
Brian recognized him instantly—Severus Snape. He was someone to be cautious of: a skilled half-blood wizard, master of Legilimency and Occlumency, and an expert in the subtleties of magic. Brian also knew Snape's prowess in potion-making was extraordinary. Becoming a Potions Master was synonymous with wealth, and Brian couldn't ignore the opportunity to learn from him—carefully, of course.
Professor McGonagall led the first-years to the center of the Hall. She pulled a four-legged stool from somewhere and placed it before the professors' table. Then she set a ragged, patched, pointed wizard's hat on top of it.
The Great Hall fell into immediate silence. Then the hat began to stir. A wide slit opened like a mouth, and in a strange, scratchy melody, it began to sing:
You may think I'm not pretty,But never judge a book by its cover.If you...For I am a thinking hat!
Ten agonizing minutes later, the performance ended. Applause erupted—not out of admiration, but sheer relief. Some students were moved to tears—though not from emotion. Only a pair of identical twins stood on their chairs, cheering enthusiastically.
The hat, oblivious to its own performance, gave a slight bow as if taking a curtain call, then fell still. Its mouth, however, continued to twitch and murmur unintelligibly.
Harry stood nervously at the front of the line. He doubted he was brave or wise enough to match the hat's lofty descriptions. Feeling the tension rise, he glanced back and saw Brian at the very end of the line, staring at the muttering hat with a hilariously bewildered expression. Brian burst into laughter, and Harry immediately felt more at ease.
Professor McGonagall shot Harry a glare before unrolling a long scroll and beginning the Sorting.
"Hannah Abbott!"
A cheerful, rosy-cheeked girl with golden braids ran forward and placed the hat on her head.
After a brief pause, the hat shouted, "Hufflepuff!"
Cheers erupted from the Hufflepuff table as Hannah took her seat.
"Susan Bones!"
"Hufflepuff!" came the call again. Susan joined Hannah at the table.
One by one, Neville, Hermione, and others were sorted into Gryffindor. Malfoy and his two hulking friends, Goyle and Crabbe, barely touched the hat before being placed into Slytherin.
"Harry Potter!"
The name silenced the hall, followed by a wave of murmurs and whispers. Everyone strained to catch a glimpse of the famous Boy-Who-Lived.
After a short but tense conversation with the hat, Harry was finally sorted into Gryffindor, just as he'd hoped. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, then turned and winked at Brian before heading to the Gryffindor table. He desperately hoped his only friend would join him there.
Brian understood the signal—but he had other plans. To survive seven years in this school, the last thing he needed was to be grouped with three reckless troublemakers. That would be a nightmare.
"Sorry, Harry," Brian thought. During the ten minutes of waiting, he had devised a perfect plan. As long as he could successfully bargain with the Sorting Hat, Ravenclaw would be his destination. A paradise of knowledge awaited him there—his best chance to chase his dream of wealth.
Meanwhile, the Gryffindor table was bursting with excitement. Everyone was on their feet, clapping wildly. The identical twins even jumped onto the table, hugging and yelling, "Potter! We have Potter!" Even Professor McGonagall's normally stern face cracked a rare smile.
Brian noticed that Dumbledore, too, had straightened up in his seat and was clapping heartily. Up until now, he had only been politely patting the back of his hand for each student.
Ron was soon called and, as expected, joined Gryffindor. The entire Weasley family had been in that House, and even the Sorting Hat seemed to know the tradition.
Percy Weasley, the Gryffindor prefect, quickly approached the new arrivals, offering warm congratulations.
"Mike Brian!" Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment and called the final name.