Sorting Problems

The girl with two golden pigtails dashed forward, her face flushed with excitement. She pulled the Sorting Hat down over her head so far that the brim nearly covered her eyes.

Watching her, Vizet suddenly understood why the Sorting Hat looked so worn and patched.

It wasn't just a relic of history — this hat had been stretched, yanked, and pulled by generations of nervous first-years.

A brief pause followed before the hat's fabric split open like a jagged mouth.

"Hufflepuff!"

A roar of cheers erupted from the long table on the right. The Hufflepuffs clapped enthusiastically as Hannah Abbott removed the hat and let out a long breath of relief. She looked slightly dazed, as if she'd forgotten where she was, before stumbling toward her new housemates.

Nearby, the ghost from earlier — the Fat Friar — waved his transparent hands in the air, beaming in congratulations.

Ron groaned. "That was so easy! Fred told me this would be terrifying, but — look at her! She just sat down, and boom — done!"

He sneaked a glance at the Gryffindor table, where his older brother Fred was pulling exaggerated faces at him. Clearly, the warnings about the Sorting Ceremony had been an elaborate prank.

One by one, more names were called.

"Bones, Susan!"

"Hufflepuff!"

The sorting process varied. Some students barely had time to sit before the Sorting Hat shouted their house. Others, however, sat for long, agonizing moments as the hat deliberated.

Hermione, for instance, sat on the stool for over four minutes before the hat finally called:

"Gryffindor!"

She sighed in relief, but Ron groaned again.

"That was way too long!" he whispered.

Neville took nearly as long, squirming nervously before the hat finally declared, "Gryffindor!"

Then —

"Lovegood, Vizet!"

Vizet walked forward, calm and composed, and placed the Sorting Hat over his head.

Immediately, he could feel the weight of countless eyes on him.

Two particular gazes came from the Ravenclaw table — Cho Chang and Penelope Clearwater, both watching him with interest.

Ahead, Professor McGonagall leaned forward ever so slightly, her sharp eyes locked onto him, as though anticipating the result.

Behind him, Vizet sensed two more distinct presences.

One was warm, familiar — Dumbledore.

The other...

A sharp, probing sensation — cold and covetous, like a thief eyeing stolen treasure. Then, just as suddenly as it came, the feeling vanished.

Vizet blinked. Was that been real? Or just my imagination?

The minutes ticked by. A murmur spread through the Great Hall.

Why was it taking so long?

Even Vizet himself felt puzzled. More than four minutes had passed, yet the Sorting Hat remained silent.

Then —

A voice echoed inside his head, like a whisper floating in the wind.

"This is quite the audience you have, isn't it?" The voice sounded amused, almost teasing. "Freshman or not, you certainly have many eyes on you..."

Then, with a sigh, the voice added, "But let's focus, shall we? The real issue here is you — you are... difficult to place."

Vizet's lips moved slightly. "Sorting Hat?"

"Oh! Yes, yes, that's me!" the voice responded, perking up. "But you, my boy, are rather unusual. I can't quite decide where to put you..."

Vizet's mind raced. Could it be because of the Guardian Meditation Method?

Curiosity sparked within him. How did the Sorting Hat even work?

He tilted his head slightly and asked, "Mr. Sorting Hat, how exactly do you determine our houses?"

------------------------------

"A very polite boy," the Sorting Hat said happily. "Have you heard of Legilimency? If not, explaining it might be a bit tricky — after all, I am just a hat."

Legilimency? Vizet frowned slightly. He had browsed through many books at Flourish and Blotts but had never come across a detailed introduction to it.

"I don't know much about it," he admitted. "Where can I find information on Legilimency?"

The Sorting Hat chuckled. "Ah, curiosity. A fine trait for a Ravenclaw. If you wish to learn more, the library is your best bet. The restricted section, in particular, holds some rather... enlightening texts. Hogwarts safeguards some of the oldest magical knowledge in existence."

Then, the hat sighed as if remembering its duty. "But enough of that. I still have a job to do! And you... you thirst for knowledge, for understanding beyond limits. So…"

The hat's fabric split wide, and it bellowed —

"RAVENCLAW!"

A moment of silence.

Then, the Ravenclaw table erupted into cheers, noticeably louder than for the other new students.

From the faculty table, Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore exchanged a brief look before shaking their heads slightly, a touch of amusement in their expressions.

Vizet made his way toward the Ravenclaw table, slipping into an open seat. Though his face remained composed, his ears tinged slightly red at the warm reception.

Across the table, Cho Chang greeted him with a bright smile. "Congratulations! You're officially one of the 'difficult ones.'"

Vizet raised an eyebrow. "'Difficult ones'? Is that supposed to be a good thing?"

"Oh, absolutely!" Cho grinned. "It's an old term. It refers to students who take over five minutes to be sorted."

She gestured toward the stool where the Sorting Hat still rested. "Normally, the hat decides almost instantly. So, if it struggles, it means the student possesses a mix of qualities that make them hard to categorize."

Vizet nodded, thoughtfully. He hadn't expected to be considered a 'difficult' student, but in hindsight, it made sense.

Maintaining the Guardian Meditation Method had likely disrupted the hat's usual process, forcing it to sort him based purely on the strongest trait it could detect — his unrelenting pursuit of knowledge.

From his other side, Penelope Clearwater added, "As far as I know, only two students in the past century have been 'difficult' to sort. But they both ended up in Gryffindor."

She tapped her chin. "It takes a very unique kind of student for the Sorting Hat to hesitate. One of them was Professor McGonagall — she was nearly placed in Ravenclaw, but ultimately became a Gryffindor."

"Professor McGonagall?" Vizet glanced at the stern-looking professor, standing near the sorting stool.

Penelope nodded. "She's the Deputy Headmistress and a master of Transfiguration. You'll see soon enough — she's incredible. The other 'difficult' student was Peter Pettigrew."

She lowered her voice. "When You-Know-Who fell, Pettigrew faced You-Know-Who's follower, Sirius Black… and paid with his life. The Ministry of Magic later honored him with the Order of Merlin, First Class."

Before Vizet could respond, a sudden shout erupted from the Gryffindor table —

"We have Potter!"

Cheers followed, and Gryffindor broke into applause as Ron Weasley was finally sorted into their house.

Cho Chang smirked. "Well, we have Vizet!"

A few Ravenclaws laughed at the joke, nudging Vizet playfully.

He sighed, glancing toward the Gryffindor table. "This House Cup competition is going to be intense, isn't it?"

Penelope nodded. "Very. The House Cup is the highest honor at Hogwarts — it represents excellence in both academics and character. Everyone wants to win it."

With the Sorting Ceremony now complete, Professor McGonagall carried away the stool and the Sorting Hat.

Then, Dumbledore rose to his feet.

He stepped in front of the grand owl statue, which immediately spread its wings and transformed into a podium.

"The new school year begins tonight," Dumbledore announced. "Welcome back to Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I have just a few words to say…"

Vizet eyed his empty plate, suddenly recalling past school headmasters from his previous life.

They, too, would start speeches claiming they'd be "brief" — only to ramble on for over an hour.

Dumbledore took a deep breath and solemnly declared —

"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

"...Eh?"

Vizet barely had time to react before a rich, mouthwatering aroma filled the air.

A round of applause rang out, and in an instant, the tables were filled with food.

Golden platters overflowed with roasted meats — beef, pork, lamb, and chicken — while steaming bowls of mashed potatoes, sausages, and vegetables radiated heat.

The sheer variety of food piled high like miniature mountains made Vizet momentarily forget his confusion over Dumbledore's speech.

Penelope, spooning a generous heap of mashed potatoes onto her plate, chuckled. "Dumbledore really is something special. If only he were a Ravenclaw."

Vizet let out a quiet laugh, finally reaching for some food.

The feast had begun.