Harry's Sorting

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When McGonagall called the next name, "Harry Potter," an expectant hush fell over the Great Hall. All eyes turned to the confident 11-year-old who walked without a hint of hesitation and sat on the stool. The chatter ceased; the atmosphere was thick with curiosity, students stretching their necks to see him. Harry, maintaining his composure, looked ahead, consciously averting any direct gaze. The hat was gently placed on his head, and Harry felt it sift through memories, those that Nigel allowed it to access.

"Most intriguing. Where to put you, Mr. Potter?" the hat pondered aloud, its voice resonating in Harry's mind.

Harry, playing along with the moment, inquired, "Where do you think is the best?"

The hat, its voice reflecting a hint of amusement, replied, "Most definitely Slytherin. Ambitious, cunning, and dangerous. My, my. Such a sharp mind you have."

"Thanks, you are not so bad yourself," Harry smirked internally, engaging in a light-hearted exchange with the hat.

"But you are also brave and loyal. You love reading and science. You fit all the houses," the hat observed, seeming to weigh its options.

Harry, with a playful tone, joked, "How about you make me the new headmaster?"

The hat chuckled at his audacity. "Would be better, believe me, but I don't have the permission. Well, where to put you?" It murmured in contemplation.

"Slytherin, please," Harry stated firmly.

"Are you sure?" the hat queried, seeking confirmation.

Harry's smirk deepened. "Don't you want to see the old man's face when you put me there?"

The hat laughed, a sound unheard by anyone else, before announcing loudly, "SLYTHERIN!"

The Great Hall erupted into a pandemonium of reactions. The Slytherin table burst into cheers and applause, welcoming their newest member with a mix of surprise and excitement. The other tables, particularly Gryffindor, were abuzz with whispers and shocked expressions. Dumbledore's face, visible from the staff table, was a picture of surprise and intrigue, his twinkling eyes momentarily losing their sparkle. Snape, on the other hand, appeared genuinely taken aback, his usual scowl deepening.

Harry rose from the stool, his face betraying none of his internal amusement. As he made his way to the Slytherin table, he felt the weight of many eyes upon him, each student trying to decipher the mystery of 'The Boy Who Lived' being sorted into Slytherin.

As Harry walked towards the Slytherin table, his clothes subtly adjusted themselves, adopting a green and silver theme that seamlessly blended with the house colors. The fabric shifted and shimmered, a visual testament to the magic that permeated Hogwarts. Nigel quipped, "Gotta say, it matches with your eyes. Imagine a yellow theme of Hufflepuff." Harry chuckled inwardly, amused by the mental image Nigel put in his mind, even as he took his seat at his new house table.

The hall was still buzzing with whispers and murmurs as Professor McGonagall recovered from her momentary stupor and called the next name, "Ron Weasley." Ron, looking visibly shocked and somewhat lost, made his way to the stool. The Sorting Hat took only a moment before announcing "Gryffindor!" Ron, relieved, joined his house table, still casting occasional bewildered glances at Harry.

Following Ron, Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin, his stride confident as he joined his new housemates. With the sorting ceremony concluded, the Great Hall settled into a temporary silence.

Dumbledore stood up, his face neutral, but there was a subtle shift in his usually unflappable demeanor. "Welcome!" he began, his voice resonating throughout the hall. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" With a whimsical smile, he sat down, and magically, food appeared on all the tables.

Harry, amused by Dumbledore's eccentricity, asked in his mind, "Acting demented?" He found the old man's act entertaining, knowing that despite his age, Dumbledore was as sharp as a basilisk's tooth.

Nigel's voice resonated with a chuckle, "Those are probably the names of house elves that use magic to deliver the food from kitchens." Harry nodded in agreement, 'That makes sense.'

As Harry started to eat, he noticed several students trying to engage him in conversation. His newfound status as 'The Boy Who Lived' in Slytherin had evidently piqued the curiosity of many. Fortunately, he sat next to Daphne Greengrass, who was seated next to Tracey Davis, leaving his right side empty. Across from him sat Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini, with Draco Malfoy on Nott's left.

The Slytherin table was a blend of traditional pure-blood families and ambitious newcomers. Harry observed their interactions, noting the subtle dynamics of power and influence at play. Daphne and Tracey, both coming from established families, conversed with an air of confidence. In contrast, Theodore and Blaise, though less outspoken, exuded a quiet strength that spoke of their upbringing in the complex world of wizarding politics.

Draco Malfoy, in particular, seemed intrigued by Harry's presence in Slytherin. His earlier confident demeanor had given way to a more contemplative one. "Quite the stir you've caused, Potter," he remarked, his tone a mix of curiosity and respect.

Harry, taking a bite of his roast chicken, replied nonchalantly, "It seems so, Malfoy. But then, Hogwarts is full of surprises, isn't it?"

The meal progressed with various students engaging Harry in conversation, each trying to gauge his personality and intentions. Harry responded with a mix of politeness and reserve, careful not to reveal too much about himself. He was aware that every word he said could be analyzed and interpreted in multiple ways.

As the feast neared its end, Dumbledore stood up again, this time to announce the upcoming school year's events and remind the students of the rules.

Harry's gaze shifted from the lively interactions at the Slytherin table to the staff table, where the Hogwarts teachers sat. Among them, a professor wearing a turban caught his attention. The man seemed to be fumbling with his bag, his movements slightly awkward. From his vantage point, Harry had a clear view of the staff table and this particular professor.

Suddenly, a System message flashed before Harry's eyes, momentarily pulling his focus from the scene: [A powerful Legilimency detected. The probe failed.] Harry's eyes narrowed. He turned his attention back to the turbaned professor, activating his Observe function to gather more information.

[System Message: Quirinus Quirrell - Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. Nervous disposition. Signs of magical interference present. Warning: Possible external influence detected. Legilimency source: Unknown.]

Nigel's voice chimed in Harry's mind, its tone a blend of curiosity and caution. "Quite the mystery we have here, Master Harry. A Defense Against the Dark Arts professor with more secrets than a Sphinx's riddle."

Harry's lips twitched in amusement at Nigel's analogy. "Indeed, Nigel. But secrets have a way of coming to light, especially in a place like Hogwarts." His eyes remained fixed on Professor Quirrell, contemplating the potential dangers hidden beneath the man's timid exterior.

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