Chapter 8: The Sorting Decision

"Looks like we just have to put on this hat," Harry muttered to himself, glancing at Augustus. "I swear I'll kill Fred. He made it sound like we were going to battle giants." Ron waved his hands angrily. Augustus smiled faintly. This intriguing hat must have been crafted by someone remarkable—it seemed almost alive.

At that moment, Professor McGonagall stepped forward, holding a roll of parchment in her hands.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat, sit on the stool, and wait to be sorted," she announced.

"Hannah Abbott!"

A rosy-cheeked girl with blonde braids stumbled forward, placed the hat on her head—which immediately covered her eyes—and sat down. After a brief pause, the hat declared, "Hufflepuff!"

"Susan Bones!"

"Hufflepuff!" the hat called again. Susan quickly scurried to sit beside Hannah.

"Terry Boot!"

"Ravenclaw!"

"Hermione Granger!"

Hermione practically ran to the stool and hurriedly jammed the hat onto her head.

"Gryffindor!" the hat declared. Ron made an indeterminate grumbling sound.

As Augustus watched the young faces being sorted, he couldn't help but recall his youth at the magic academy in his original world. There, selection wasn't as simple as putting on a hat; it involved genuine tests of magical ability and skill. He sighed nostalgically.

When Malfoy's name was called, the boy strode forward confidently, and the hat barely touched his head before shouting, "Slytherin!"

After Malfoy, a string of names followed—Nott, Parkinson, a pair of Patil twins, and finally Sally-Anne Perks. Then, at last—

"Harry Potter!"

As Harry walked forward, a low hum of whispers swept through the hall like the crackling of small flames.

Harry took slightly longer than most under the hat, but soon enough, the hat cried, "Gryffindor!"

Augustus heard a loud cheer erupt from the Gryffindor table, while the other three houses remained comparatively quiet. Then Professor McGonagall called another name:

"Augustus Julius!"

The hall fell silent. Then whispers broke out at the Slytherin table, where several noble students began muttering. Malfoy, in particular, raised his voice dramatically:

"Watch this! Potter may be a disgrace to purebloods, but if Augustus ends up in Slytherin, we'll undoubtedly be the best house!"

Harry sneered at Malfoy's words, feeling indignant. Augustus will surely join Gryffindor, Harry thought. At least, I hope my gut instinct isn't wrong this time.

As Augustus approached the Sorting Hat, a palpable aura seemed to emanate from him, spreading across the room. The atmosphere grew heavy, and the only sound left was the measured rhythm of his footsteps.

The hat was placed on Augustus's head, and a faint voice spoke within.

"My goodness! Occlumency? At such a young age? You've mastered spells beyond the grasp of most adult wizards. Genius doesn't begin to describe you. Clearly, you have a heart of ambition, a cautious mind, and a meticulous intellect. Ravenclaw and Slytherin both suit you well. But I believe Slytherin can help you grow faster. Is that acceptable? Very well, then!"

"Slytherin!"

The Sorting Hat's proclamation was followed by a brief silence before the Slytherin table erupted in wild celebration. Malfoy cheered loudly:

"Ha! I told you Augustus would join Slytherin! Gryffindor fools, your nightmare has arrived!"

Sitting at the Gryffindor table, Harry stared in disbelief as Augustus walked toward the Slytherin table. Hermione, meanwhile, angrily tapped the table. It was hard for her to reconcile how someone so refined and graceful could end up in the "evil" Slytherin.

Augustus sat beside Malfoy, wearing a perfect smile as he graciously acknowledged the congratulations of the Slytherin students. Malfoy, visibly excited, said eagerly, "Lord Augustus, I look forward to learning from you!"

Augustus nodded lightly. "Just call me Augustus. After all, our families are close." Malfoy's excitement only grew—this was a clear sign Augustus was beginning to accept him into his circle.

The Sorting continued, with Lisa Turpin joining Ravenclaw and Ron Weasley, looking pale, stepping forward. Harry clenched his fists under the table. In no time at all, the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!"

When Ron collapsed into the seat beside Harry, Gryffindor erupted in applause. Harry glanced wistfully at Augustus sitting next to Malfoy. If only Augustus had joined Gryffindor, Harry thought quietly.

At that moment, Dumbledore stood. With his usual beaming smile, he spread his arms wide, as if nothing brought him more joy than seeing all the students gathered together.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I'd like to say a few words: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" He sat back down, and the hall burst into applause and cheers.

Suddenly, the tables were laden with food: roast beef, chicken, pork chops, lamb cutlets, sausages, steaks, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, Yorkshire puddings, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup—and inexplicably—mints.

The feast began, with Gryffindor students devouring their meal with gusto, while Slytherins maintained their typical air of decorum—except for Crabbe and Goyle, of course.

When the desserts vanished, Dumbledore stood once more, and the hall quieted.

"Now, before bedtime, let us sing the school song!" he announced. Augustus noticed the other teachers' smiles had grown noticeably stiff. A school song? You must be joking.

Dumbledore waved his wand, and a long golden ribbon unraveled in the air, forming words.

"Pick your favorite tune," Dumbledore said. "Ready? Sing!"

The hall erupted into chaotic singing. Augustus moved his lips without making a sound. He'd rather duel Voldemort ten times than participate in this absurdity.

Eventually, the song ended—somewhat disjointedly. Only the Weasley twins were still singing to the solemn tune of a funeral march. Dumbledore enthusiastically conducted their final notes, then clapped the loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, dabbing his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! Now off to bed!"

The hall echoed with the sound of chairs scraping as students rose and followed their prefects to their dormitories.

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