Everyone in the Great Hall watched as Dumbledore regarded the gathered first years, his eyes sweeping slowly across the crowd. For a brief moment, his gaze lingered on Harry and Julian, then moved on as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
"Soon, each of you will be sorted into your houses and begin your path toward magical mastery," the old wizard announced, voice warm but commanding. "Your housemates will be your friends, your family, and your companions in learning for the next seven years. I welcome you all to Hogwarts and wish every one of you a joyful seven years to come."
With that, he stepped back, allowing Professor McGonagall to take center stage.
"When your name is called, you will come forward, sit on the stool, and wait to be sorted," she instructed crisply. "Once the Sorting Hat has decided, you are to join your house table."
Her explanation was short and to the point.
An empty wooden stool stood in front of the staff table, and on it Professor McGonagall carefully placed an old, battered, leather hat, so worn it looked as if it might fall apart if someone breathed on it too hard. For a moment it sat motionless, then deep creases rippled across the brim and crown until a face formed out of the folds. The hall fell silent as the hat opened its ragged mouth and began to sing.
"Oh, you might not think I am much to look at,
All frayed and patched and torn,
But do not judge by shabby cloth,
Or mock a hat so worn.
Your shiny black bowlers, your tall, fine top hats,
You can keep them, one and all,
For I am Hogwarts' Sorting Hat,
And I outsmart the lot of y'all."
"There is no thought inside your mind
That I cannot explore.
Just set me on your head and see
Which house you are destined for.
Perhaps you fit in Gryffindor,
Where brave hearts gladly stand,
With daring, nerve, and chivalry
That marks them through the land.
You might go into Hufflepuff,
Where loyal souls abide,
Where patience, truth, and steady work
Are worn with honest pride.
Or maybe clever Ravenclaw,
If quick wit is your guide,
Where those who thirst for learning
Find sharp minds at their side.
Or Slytherin may call to you,
Where crafty planners dwell,
Who use all means to reach their goals
And scheme their way up well."
"So do not fuss, and do not fret,
I will not bite or snap.
Just trust in me upon your head,
For I am a thinking cap."
The song ended to a wave of clapping and cheering from every table, the older students clearly enjoying the familiar performance. Professor McGonagall produced a long roll of parchment and began the sorting.
"Abbott, Hannah!" she called.
One by one, the first years stepped forward to sit on the stool. Several students were sorted before Julian's turn came, including Hermione, who, just as in the original story, ended up in Gryffindor to no one's real surprise.
Eventually, McGonagall called, "Clayton, Julian!"
Julian walked up to the stool with steady steps and sat, feeling the weight of the worn hat settle over his eyes as it dropped down over his head.
"Hmm, how very unusual," a voice murmured in his mind. "Most who sit beneath my brim do not yet know where they truly belong. They come to me uncertain, and I help them find their place. You, however, are not only aware of where you stand in this world, you also understand my own dilemma."
The hat sounded both curious and amused.
"You think you could flourish in any of the houses," it continued, "and you are not wrong. Each path holds merit for you, and you could grow strong in any of them. That leaves only your own preference to decide this tie. Consider carefully, because once the choice is made, it cannot be undone."
The voice then fell silent, leaving Julian alone with his thoughts.
Time stretched. One minute passed, then two, then three. The hall began to buzz faintly as whispers slipped through the crowd. The professors exchanged glances, but none appeared truly confused. This sort of thing was rare, but not unheard of.
A situation like this even had a name. A Hatstall. It happened when a student was so evenly suited to more than one house that the Sorting Hat took an unusually long time weighing options, or, in this case, waiting for the student to decide.
Only Dumbledore's expression held a shadow of tension, a faint tightness around his eyes. He was clearly more invested in the result than he let on, as if the final decision might force him to adjust carefully laid plans.
Five long minutes crawled by while Julian considered, turning the possibilities over one last time. In the end, he circled back to the choice he had always intended to make.
All right, Gryffindor, he decided firmly.
The hat seemed satisfied.
"GRYFFINDOR!" it shouted aloud.
Applause burst from the Gryffindor table, and the enchantments on Julian's school robes shifted, the colors rippling until they settled into deep red trimmed with gold. He removed the hat, placed it back on the stool, and walked toward his new house table amid cheers and congratulatory shouts from his fellow lions.
He had barely sat down when he noticed the infamous twins, Fred and George Weasley, eyeing his hand. More specifically, they were eyeing Greed, the living ring coiled comfortably on his finger.
At some point during his sorting, Greed had amused itself by altering its appearance over and over again. Apparently, the twins had been watching it the whole time, and their curiosity had only grown.
Julian thought it was hilarious when the pair tried to sneakily swipe Greed as a joke. The ring reacted before Julian had to lift a finger. Fred yelped and jerked his hand back, staring in horror at the ring's new form. It now showed a grotesque, half-rotten caricature of George's face, tiny decaying teeth sunk into Fred's skin.
The table erupted in laughter.
Fred shook his hand out, torn between shuddering and swearing, but even he could tell the bite was more prank than true malice. George, though slightly disturbed to see his own face in zombie form, laughed along with everyone else.
"You have got to show us how you made it do that, mate!" George said eagerly, the shock already turning into fascination.
"Yeah, I am not sure what I just saw, but it was brilliant," Fred admitted, still rubbing the offended hand.
Julian lifted his shoulders in a casual shrug. "You two know what a Boggart is, right?" he asked, wearing a knowing smirk.
The twins exchanged a quick look, the same thought clearly occurring to them at the same time.
"It turns into whatever scares you most, just before it goes for you," they said together, voices overlapping.
Julian chuckled, amused by their perfect synchronization, then nodded. "Exactly. The enchantment on Greed works in a similar way. If it thinks someone is trying to steal from me, it reacts like a Boggart and turns into something designed to freak them out."
Fred and George both flushed slightly, realizing they had been neatly called out. They could tell Julian was not angry though, which made it easy to laugh at themselves.
"All right, fair enough," George said, grinning. "We did notice your ring changing shape when you were under the Hat. Curiosity got the better of us."
"And it bit back," Fred added dryly, although there was admiration in his eyes.
Julian just smiled, feeling quietly pleased that Greed and his own little enchantment had passed their first test at the Gryffindor table.