Chapter 19: Are You Here to Buy a Hat?

Unlike its dark, somber exterior, the interior of Hogwarts Castle could only be described as magnificent and breathtakingly beautiful. Intriguingly, the ceiling above appeared almost transparent, revealing the twinkling stars outside.

Noticing Sherlock’s actions, Hermione whispered an explanation to him, “There’s a spell cast here so the ceiling looks just like the sky outside. I read about it in *Hogwarts: A History*.”

Sherlock nodded thoughtfully. Indeed, it was hard to believe there was a solid ceiling above them, just as it was difficult to accept that the Great Hall wasn’t open to the sky.

At first, upon seeing the size of Hogwarts, Sherlock had assumed the next seven years would feel quite cramped. But now, it was clear the interior space was far larger than the castle’s exterior suggested. It was simply unfathomable—science could not explain it, but magic could.

As Professor McGonagall returned, the ghosts floated silently through the walls and vanished. The entire school’s students and staff were already seated, their eyes fixed on the first-year students, awaiting the Sorting Ceremony.

Under the watchful gaze of all, McGonagall gently placed a four-legged stool before the first-years and set a tattered, patched, and distinctly grimy pointed hat upon it. Even from a distance, the hat’s worn and dirty appearance was unmistakable.

Then, the hat began to twist and contort, splitting open in the middle as if it had opened its mouth. Suddenly, it began to sing.

“You may think I’m not pretty, but never judge by looks alone. If you find a hat more beautiful than me, I’ll gladly eat myself whole…”

The tune was somewhat noisy to Sherlock’s ears, and the hat’s singing voice was far from melodious—far inferior to his own violin skills. Yet, it provided valuable information, chiefly an introduction to the four houses.

Its introduction was objective and more professional than McGonagall’s, succinctly as follows:

Gryffindor—brave and fearless, represented by the lion, symbolizing the element of fire.

Hufflepuff—honest and loyal, represented by the badger, symbolizing the element of earth.

Ravenclaw—wise and scholarly, represented by the eagle, symbolizing the element of air.

Slytherin—clever and ambitious, represented by the serpent, symbolizing the element of water.

At that moment, the first-years realized that all they needed was to wear the Sorting Hat.

***

“I’m going to kill Fred!” Ron couldn’t help but grumble to Sherlock and Harry. “He talks like he’s going to fight a troll or something.”

Harry and Hermione both breathed a quiet sigh of relief; they had clearly been very tense moments before.

Sherlock, of course, remained unruffled, merely finding the unfolding events increasingly intriguing.

The Sorting Ceremony had begun. McGonagall held a scroll of parchment, stepped forward, and read the first name:

“Hannah Abbott!”

A small girl with two golden braids stumbled nervously from the line, donning the hat amidst the watchful eyes of the entire school.

Moments later, the hat shouted, “Hufflepuff!”

The group seated to the right applauded and cheered, welcoming her to join their table.

The jovial ghost of the chubby friar who had greeted Sherlock earlier waved happily in her direction.

One by one, the new students were called up by McGonagall, donned the hat, were sorted, and then removed it—a mechanical repetition with no surprises.

Soon, it was Sherlock’s turn.

“Hermione Granger!”

Hermione was so nervous she almost forgot to greet them, practically running to the stool before hastily pulling the hat down over her head.

Finally, the hat declared, “Gryffindor!”

Ron snorted in disapproval, clearly displeased at the prospect that Hermione might be sorted into the same house as him.

Sherlock watched this scene with keen interest.

He paid little mind to Ron’s petty feelings; what intrigued him was the length of time the hat took to decide. Sometimes the Sorting Hat named the house immediately; other times, it hesitated.

Hermione’s sorting had taken nearly four minutes—the longest of all those sorted so far—giving the impression that even the hat was uncertain.

This raised a question for Sherlock: when it was his turn, how long would it take? And to which house would he be assigned?

In truth, Sherlock had pondered this since the hat’s song began: the answer was that anything was possible.

***

Courage—he lacked none. His very reason for coming to Hogwarts was a thirst to explore the unknown. In dire moments, he would not hesitate to risk life and death; such a feeling only heightened his excitement.

Honesty—one of his interests was fighting crime. Though his methods were hardly lawful good, he was certainly no villain, and justice was always his aim.

Wisdom—needless to say. Although, due to family circumstances, there was a time before meeting other children that he believed himself a fool.

Cunning and ambition—he possessed these as well. Judging by the Sorting Hat’s song, with its pride and disdain for rules, this spirit fit well with Slytherin.

Even Sherlock, master of deduction, found it difficult to predict which house he would be sorted into.

If only he could ask Hermione what it felt like to wear the hat—he was sure Miss Granger would be willing to share. But alas, that was impossible.

Once a first-year’s house was determined, they left the line to join their house’s group, where older students awaited to welcome them.

At that moment, McGonagall, seeing Hermione seated among the Gryffindor upperclassmen, returned her gaze to the parchment.

Her eyes hesitated slightly before reading the next name:

“Sherlock Holmes!”

Upon hearing his name, Sherlock said nothing, but Harry and Ron immediately grew anxious:

“Please don’t go to Slytherin!”

“You have to go to Gryffindor!”

Besides his two friends, others were watching Sherlock closely. News of his confrontation with the Malfoy trio on the train had spread, and students who knew about it couldn’t help but pay attention when they heard his name.

Moreover, Sherlock’s striking appearance naturally drew notice.

Additionally, McGonagall had mentioned this sharp-minded young wizard to Professor Dumbledore.

Yet—

Sherlock approached the stool but, unlike the others, did not immediately pull the hat over his head.

Instead, he took the hat in hand, rotating it thoughtfully as he examined it closely.

The entire hall gasped in surprise.

Even McGonagall, presiding over the ceremony, looked astonished.

This isn’t a hat shop—you’re not supposed to be choosing your hat!

Unable to contain herself, she glanced up at Headmaster Dumbledore seated at the high table.