Finally, it was his turn. Brian slowly walked forward, picked up the Sorting Hat, hesitated for a moment, then placed it on his head.
All surrounding sound vanished. Almost instantly, a faint, sharp voice echoed inside his mind: "Hmm, it seems you have something to ask of me."
Speaking directly into one's mind—this magical hat was truly the first test of entering Hogwarts. Brian had always wondered how the vast Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, without any formal inspection process, could detect whether incoming students were undercover agents sent by the Death Eaters. After all, Dumbledore wasn't a god—he couldn't use Legilimency on everyone at once, nor did he have time to scan each student individually.
"Of course I can read your thoughts. I told you, I'm a magical thinking hat. In fact, I'm also an employee of Hogwarts, hahahaha. Strange boy, quickly think about what you want. We can't waste too much time."The hat's sharp voice echoed in Brian's mind again. "And don't be surprised—I can see what you're thinking."
Brian felt slightly unnerved. He took a few deep breaths, trying to keep his mind from wandering to memories of his past life—or the system. Facing this peculiar hat always made him uneasy.
He nodded slightly, offering what he thought was a kind smile, and responded silently: "Actually, I'd like to make a deal. I want to be sorted into Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. Anywhere but Gryffindor."
"Hmm, interesting. But what do I get in return, strange first-year? After all, I'm just a hat," the Sorting Hat said, twisting slightly in confusion.
It seemed the hat could only vaguely read his thoughts and couldn't understand anything related to the system. Brian was relieved. He spoke calmly in his mind: "I noticed the patch on your fabric. A magical hat shouldn't have a patch—unless… you're injured, or damaged."(This was, in fact, a hint from the system panel.) "If you sort me into Ravenclaw, I'll spend my school years studying ancient texts and do everything I can to repair your injury."
The Sorting Hat seemed genuinely surprised. Its seam—its mouth—opened and closed several times in silence. Finally, the sharp voice returned:
"Strange young wizard, how did you discover that? Even Dumbledore—of all the headmasters—never noticed."
"Like I said, you're a magical hat. How could a magical hat be so dirty and patched? Maybe I'm just... observant," Brian replied vaguely. He was, of course, making it up. The system was the real source of that information.
The hat suddenly growled, clearly insulted:"I may be magical, but I still have hygiene issues! I can't exactly walk to the bathroom, can I? No headmaster ever thought of that, and none realized I'm incomplete! It's not my fault I'm filthy, and it's not my fault I lost my lower half! And how can I trust you? Maybe you'll forget about me later!"
"I don't know how to guarantee it," Brian admitted, "but it's worth a gamble, isn't it? Sorting me takes little effort on your part, but it could give you hope."
The Sorting Hat paused, then finally began its assessment:"Hmm, very tricky. You have ambition and cleverness—Slytherin would suit you well. But you also crave knowledge and have a love for study—Ravenclaw is just as fitting. And… you seem serious about your promise. I think I can trust you."
Time was ticking outside. The Sorting Hat's prolonged silence was confusing everyone. Whispers spread across the Great Hall.
Even Dumbledore, seated at the high table, coughed lightly and turned his gaze toward Brian.
Brian had his back to the high table, so he didn't see Dumbledore's lips move slightly—but a chill ran down his spine. Something felt off. According to his calculations, he had a 90% chance of getting into Ravenclaw. So why this sudden unease?
But this was Hogwarts, a place of magic—a whole new world he didn't fully understand. There were always unpredictable variables. Brian sighed and clung to hope.
Suddenly, the Sorting Hat twisted around, rubbing its tip against its wide brim. With hesitation, it said:"Alright, I agree. Ravenclaw… yes, this is indeed the right choice."
Before Brian could react, the hat suddenly shouted:"RAVEN—"
A wave of relief washed over him. A satisfied smile crept onto his face—but in the very next second, it froze.
"No, it's Gryffindor! Gryffindor!" the Sorting Hat roared gleefully."I agreed, yes—but I was just pretending!" it added playfully in his mind.
Brian removed the hat with a stiff expression. He swallowed hard, then shot it a deadly glare.
He felt like murdering someone. He wasn't even sure how he made it to the Gryffindor table—his limbs were cold and shaky. He stared blankly at the starry ceiling, overwhelmed with despair about the next seven years.
Nonetheless, thunderous cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table. Harry clapped with wild enthusiasm, his cheeks flushed with excitement.
Older students approached to shake his hand and offer congratulations. Brian responded mechanically.
The sorting ceremony was over. Professor McGonagall retrieved the Sorting Hat and the roll of parchment. As she walked away, the hat gave a proud whistle in Brian's direction.
Brian didn't notice. His composure had shattered. He was still reeling from the betrayal.
"Who's messing with me?!"
Everything had been going according to plan—until that final moment. Now, his face was deathly pale.
Thankfully, no one seemed to notice. Even Harry didn't get a chance to speak with him—because just then, Dumbledore stood up.
The white-bearded wizard raised his arms and cheerfully declared:"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
"Thank you all. Now, let the feast begin."He tapped the golden goblet with his wand twice, and food suddenly appeared on all four long tables.
Roast chicken, fried pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, beef, potato chips, Yorkshire pudding, mashed potatoes, double-skin milk...
The young wizards, clearly starving, eagerly dug into their meals. Brian absentmindedly answered Harry's questions. Harry, having spoken with the Sorting Hat himself, assumed the long pause meant Brian had argued with it—probably so he could join Gryffindor.
Harry was deeply touched. He believed Brian had fought just to be in the same house.
"I'm so pissed," Brian muttered through clenched teeth as he shoved food into his mouth.
Harry, caught mid-sentence, was startled and jumped slightly in his seat, eyes wide with confusion.
Just then, Brian felt a strange sensation—as if someone was watching him.
He looked up—and met Dumbledore's calm blue eyes.