In this hall, there were four long rows of tables, with many senior students from Hogwarts seated at them. Above each row of tables hung flags of different colors and patterns. Phineas knew that these were the flags of the four Hogwarts houses. The tables were covered with gleaming gold plates and goblets.
Thousands of candles floated above the hall, illuminating the entire space. The ceiling above was black, dotted with stars, resembling the night sky outside the castle. Phineas knew that this enchanted ceiling not only mimicked the starry sky but also reflected the changing seasons and weather outside.
Directly in front of the hall was a long table where the teachers sat.
The first-years stood to one side, looking at the hall's grand layout and the thousands of faces staring at them.
Professor McGonagall quietly placed a four-legged stool in front of the professors' table, facing the four house tables.
Then she placed a pointy, old, and worn wizard's hat on top of the stool.
Suddenly, all attention in the hall turned to the hat, and a slit like a human mouth appeared on its edge. A somewhat hoarse voice emerged from the gap.
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!
."
When the Hat finished its song, the entire hall erupted into warm applause. It bowed to each of the four house tables, then became still again.
This was the famous Sorting Hat, once belonging to Gryffindor. Ravenclaw had cast the eternal Legilimency Curse on it, though a weakened version. It could sense the mental state of the young wizard and some aspects of their character.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long roll of parchment.
"When I read your name, please come up, put on this hat, and sit on the stool to be sorted."
The first name on the list was Phineas's.
"Phineas Black!"
It seemed that the list was in alphabetical order by last name, which is why he was at the top.
Phineas walked toward Professor McGonagall. She gave him a deep look, but in her eyes, Phineas didn't see any disgust or rejection, which made him feel more at ease.
He took the old Sorting Hat, sat down, and placed it on his head.
"Ah, a young Black, noble blood, and great ambition. You're a perfect fit for Slytherin."
The voice of the Sorting Hat rang in Phineas's ears.
"You're already quite knowledgeable for your age, and your curiosity about magic is commendable. Ravenclaw might also be a good fit. Of course, you have courage and loyalty, so Gryffindor and Hufflepuff would suit you as well. Well, this is a tough one... Let me think... Yes, Slytherin seems like the place for you. Your ambition and bloodline will be well suited there."
Phineas's heart skipped a beat. He knew exactly what being sorted into Slytherin would mean.
Unfortunately, the Sorting Hat didn't give him a chance to refuse, so he shouted loudly,
"So, Slytherin!"
'Damn, I really wanted to go to Ravenclaw,' Phineas thought.
After removing the hat, Phineas cursed under his breath.
Slytherin's table was the second on the right. Phineas walked over, found an empty seat, and sat down.
As he moved, the other students parted like dominoes, forming a clear space around him.
No one wanted to talk to Phineas, nor did they want to get involved with him.
There was no applause or cheers for Phineas's sorting into Slytherin—only rejection. It was a strange and tense atmosphere.
Professor McGonagall, noticing the silence, could do nothing. The Sorting Ceremony tradition at Hogwarts had been the same for thousands of years. It was unchangeable.
She called the next name in her loud, commanding voice.
"Cedric Diggory!"
A tall, handsome boy walked up, placed the old, worn hat on his head, and sat there quietly.
A moment later, the Sorting Hat shouted,
"Hufflepuff!"
The students from Hufflepuff cheered and applauded as Cedric walked to the far right and joined them. Even the Hufflepuff ghost, the fat monk, waved at him happily.
"Roger Davis!"
"Ravenclaw!"
The Sorting Hat called, and Roger jumped off the stool and walked to the second table on the left.
It was Ravenclaw's table, and once again, warm applause followed. Several upperclassmen shook hands with Roger. It was a harmonious and friendly atmosphere.
"Merton Graves!"
"Drian Puse!"
"Lee Jordan!"
"Alia Spinnet!"
"Kenneth Toller!"
"Fred Weasley!"
"George Weasley!"
"Angelina Johnson!"
One by one, the other students from Phineas's boat went through their sorting ceremonies. Some joined Gryffindor, others Ravenclaw.
However, after Phineas, there was an odd, uncomfortable silence—something that even Phineas, who had prepared himself for this, could not ignore.