Chapter 54: Never Mistaken!

All the other professors had already left.

Only Snape, Dumbledore, and McGonagall remained in the Great Hall. Despite the Sorting Hat's frantic shrieking, Dumbledore couldn't bear to ignore it.

"Professor Snape, as the Sorting Hat just said, it's one of Hogwarts' precious assets. None of us has the right to damage it or… take other such actions."

When others were present, Dumbledore never addressed anyone by their first name. He had planned to bring Snape along to check on the unfortunate student who had fainted earlier, but while he was tidying his beard, Snape seized the Hat.

Honestly,

from Dumbledore's perspective, Snape's behavior right now wasn't altogether a bad thing. It at least proved that Ian truly mattered to him.

That, in turn, might be the bond capable of preventing Snape from spiraling into darkness.

"I only mean to give the Sorting Hat a bath,"

Snape said, his face unreadable as he lifted the Hat.

"A dung pit is no bath! Put me down, you wretched old bat!"

the Hat howled in protest.

"I suggest you hush,"

McGonagall interjected upon seeing Snape's expression darken, making a silencing gesture toward the Hat.

"Oh, an old bat, am I? Not even Merlin himself could save you now."

Snape sneered as he turned toward the restroom.

Dumbledore raised a hand as if to speak, then hesitated.

"Dumbledore! Help me! McGonagall!"

"I've watched you both grow up—save me!"

The Sorting Hat tried to struggle, but it had no real means of resistance.

"Ian said it! Ian—he's the one who called you that! I'm just repeating him!"

At last, with the door drawing near, the Hat cracked under pressure, turning traitor.

But—

a thousand years of existence hadn't taught it the cost of betrayal—Snape's face grew even more forbidding. His footsteps suddenly sped up.

"Then you can have your bath in Ravenclaw's dung pit."

Snape's tone was ice-cold.

"Nooooo!"

the Hat shrieked in despair.

"All right, Professor Snape, that's enough. Don't frighten it any more,"

Dumbledore urged with a helpless sigh, feeling somewhat guilty himself when he faced Snape.

After all,

he was the one who originally promised Ian would be placed in Slytherin.

Who could've predicted this?

No matter how he looked at it, Ian struck him as a textbook Slytherin.

Why had the Hat sent him to Ravenclaw instead?

Even so, Dumbledore trusted the Hat's judgment—but Snape clearly wasn't ready to accept it.

"I'm not joking about this."

Snape's words were firm, yet he finally halted.

Seizing the moment, Dumbledore spoke again:

"Give the Sorting Hat a chance. I'm sure it can provide an explanation strong enough to convince you. It hasn't erred in a thousand years."

At these words from the Headmaster, McGonagall nodded.

"Indeed, interfering with the Hat's work is overstepping,"

she noted earnestly. She had curbed her own Gryffindor impulses over many years, ever since she became a professor, striving to remain steadfast.

"Precisely! I never make mistakes!"

the Hat bellowed in self-defense.

"I only trust my own eyes. Slytherin would bring him glory; he was born for it,"

Snape muttered, thinking of every time he'd encountered Ian:

the orphanage, the wooden house in Hogsmeade with its pried-up flooring, all of Ian's behaviors and words.

From Snape's point of view, Ian was a perfect fit for Slytherin.

Ambition, cunning, a will of iron, and a keen sense of honor.

Even if he set aside any bias, Snape felt Ian displayed these qualities far more than most Slytherin students he'd ever taught.

They were undeniable features!

Where else could he belong? Just look at the new Slytherin first-years this year—

one was more mediocre than the next!

Never mind that little Grindelwald cub. The others were possibly the worst Slytherins he'd ever seen—there was even a weakling who fainted from excitement! Fainted from excitement, of all things! Shouldn't that kind of person be shipped to Gryffindor? The more Snape thought of it, the angrier he felt.

He was certain the Sorting Hat did it to spite him. If even the cunning Grindelwald girl went Slytherin, how could a sly wizard like Ian not be Slytherin?

"Silence won't save you."

Snape raised the Hat high by its tip, voice frigid.

"I'm only thinking—trying to figure out how to explain the extraordinary nature of that boy you're so fixated on!"

The Hat's bold front wavered slightly.

"I'm listening. But if you intend to praise his brilliance, cunning, wisdom, fairness, scholarship, or foresight, I promise you I'll find a way to coat you permanently in dung's stench."

Snape sneered.

He knew each House's traits thoroughly.

"No! That's not it! Dumbledore, say something—!"

The Hat, sensing real danger, grew truly panicked. Some said it housed a bit of Gryffindor's soul, although that was likely rumor. Yet one thing was certain: it recognized what a master of Potions like Snape could do.

"Dumbledore can't help you, so you must be planning to fob me off with nonsense."

Snape's face remained like stone.

Being more familiar with House Sorting than any student, he knew that a child's preference also influenced the outcome. As long as they possessed some measure of the requisite qualities, the Hat would honor their choice. In his view, every drop of Ian's blood screamed "Slytherin."

Even if Ian also fit Ravenclaw, Slytherin would have been perfectly valid.

"That's not it at all! Absolutely not! If he were just that ordinary, I'd have granted you the favor and sorted him into Slytherin!"

The Hat's fawning, perhaps fueled by fear, showed it was no fool.

"But instead, he went to Ravenclaw."

Snape's cold laughter carried a certain cruelty.

"Because Ravenclaw is the House he's meant for!"

the Hat shrieked again.

"No one suits Ravenclaw better! I've waited a thousand years to fulfill Godric's request—seeking the one who'd carry Rowena's legacy!"

Its words did nothing to satisfy Snape.

"Ravenclaw got the most new students this year."

It seemed Snape had even been counting that.

"Those are just students—mere students! None of you truly understand Rowena! You never witnessed her splendor in her own time. For a thousand years, no one has been worthy to be her true apprentice!"

The Hat's lamentation caused both Dumbledore and McGonagall to shift uneasily.

McGonagall's gaze sharpened a fraction.

Behind his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore's eyes glittered strangely.

They both understood the weight of that word "apprentice."

It implied inheritance of a wizard's art—

a bond akin to parent and child in ancient times. Students could be many, but an apprentice was different. A wizard generally accepted only those who might surpass them in magical pursuits, so that after the master's passing, the apprentice could carry that knowledge onward to even greater horizons.

"You're saying that boy, Ian, has the talent to become Lady Ravenclaw's apprentice?"

McGonagall's tone trembled with disbelief.

"Of course!"

the Hat boomed in reply.

"He and Rowena share a trait none of you do—not even you, Dumbledore. He surpasses you in that aspect!"

Snape frowned at the Hat's outburst.

"Shut your mouth!"

He had no desire to let the Hat continue.

"How dare you speak of Dumbledore like that—"

McGonagall began, intending to stand up for the Headmaster's honor. Not that she wanted to guard Dumbledore's infallibility; in truth, she recognized that only Dumbledore could restrain Snape enough to rescue the Hat from being submerged in excrement. If Snape truly dunked it and used some potion to ensure the stench never faded, it wouldn't just be the Hat suffering—McGonagall herself presided over the Sorting each year!

"Professor Snape, Professor McGonagall, please let it speak,"

Dumbledore interjected, cutting them off with a gentle sigh and a shake of his head. Then, turning curious eyes on the Hat in Snape's grasp, he said:

"As I've stated, the Hat's decisions are never wrong. In fact, I fully accept its assessment. At Ian's age, I was nowhere near inventing and improving spells."

His words made McGonagall's pupils contract.

"A first-year? Creating spells…?"

She could hardly believe what she was hearing.

"…"

Snape's expression froze.

Blast it!

Didn't that brat claim Dumbledore just played with a phoenix for a bit? So how had spells and creation come into the picture?

"That child…"

McGonagall's voice shook. She recalled Ian's Sorting, remembered who stood beside him: that little Grindelwald. A potential wizard of prodigious talent…

paired with a young Grindelwald.

Her mind spun with apprehension, but she couldn't quell it, and she gazed at Dumbledore in alarm.

Which was precisely what Snape dreaded.

He pressed his lips together furiously.

Perhaps he now regretted challenging the Hat in the first place.

"Don't be nervous. They're both good kids, Professor McGonagall. We must have faith in our students,"

Dumbledore said gently.

Yet,

there was a hint of something else in his tone that none of them noticed.

"If we treat them like villains from the start, how can we help them avoid the path of darkness?"

That statement carried sense.

"You're right—I was too hasty,"

McGonagall admitted, nodding.

Snape quietly exhaled.

He looked about ready to toss the Hat aside.

But at that moment,

"Dumbledore, I didn't say your magical prowess is lacking! Of course that lad's extraordinary too—but that's not why he belongs in Ravenclaw,"

the Hat blurted, unwilling to let the subject drop, still hoping to convince them all.

"Quit beating around the bush!"

Snape barked irritably.

"You're the ones droning on and on, yet now you blame me?"

The Hat sounded aggrieved.

Sensing their patience nearing its limit, the chattering Hat wisely opted not to push them too far.

"It's his attitude toward knowledge!"

the Hat declared succinctly.

"Every Ravenclaw student has a thirst and respect for knowledge,"

McGonagall replied, puzzled by this apparently unremarkable explanation.

Snape and Dumbledore mirrored her doubt.

Still,

while Snape's irritation grew, Dumbledore waited calmly.

"I'm not talking about the usual craving for knowledge. Look at yourselves—that's why I said you never truly understood her. That's why she lived in solitude, never recognized."

The Hat's mournful tone seemed to shift again, as though infused with different emotions.

"Over these thousand years, Ravenclaw's students have been bright scholars, yes. But Rowena's most unique trait was never simply her hunger for knowledge."

The Hat's voice rang with nostalgia, regret, and quiet lament.

"To stand atop the peak of wisdom is not about diligence, pride, cleverness, or hard work—but an unbridled arrogance toward knowledge itself."

Everyone froze at those words.

Still, the Hat continued:

"Yes, Ian carries that quality. In him, I see Rowena's reflection. They share a blatant, unshakable arrogance toward knowledge!"

"Knowledge chases them, paving the road beneath their feet."

"Don't question my judgment. I'm never mistaken!"

It turned its tattered face toward Snape,

speaking with unmistakable conviction,

resounding through the Great Hall:

"Ian Prince is the truest Ravenclaw. Slytherin might lead him to glory, but only Ravenclaw can guide him to greatness!"

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