Inside Hogwarts Castle, the Sorting Ceremony continued under the steady guidance of Professor McGonagall.
Yet her mind lingered on the boy who had just been Sorted into Gryffindor—Sherlock Holmes.
She hadn't expected that the sharp-minded young wizard who had already left a strong impression before term even began would turn out to be, just like her, a true Hatstall.
The nickname "Hatstall," often used with a touch of humor—someone who took more than the conventional five minutes to be Sorted, and whose qualities made them equally suited for multiple houses, leaving the Sorting Hat genuinely conflicted.
True Hatstalls were incredibly rare—about one in fifty years.
Most students who came close never quite crossed that threshold.
Hermione Granger, for example, had been a near-Hatstall.
McGonagall still remembered her own Sorting vividly. On her first night at Hogwarts, all eyes had been on her as the Sorting Hat deliberated for five and a half minutes, torn between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
It had ultimately chosen Gryffindor.
Even to this day, McGonagall sometimes felt Ravenclaw would've been a fine fit as well—especially after becoming Head of Gryffindor House and spending years corralling reckless, rule-breaking lions. That sense only grew stronger over time.
Still, the Sorting Hat had always stood by its choice, insisting Gryffindor was the better match.
Looking back, she realized… yes, it had nearly been fifty years since then.
She had almost forgotten all about it—until Sherlock Holmes and Hermione Granger brought those memories flooding back.
It was worth noting that when the Sorting Hat had considered where to place her colleague, Professor Flitwick, it had also hesitated for quite a while.
But unlike with McGonagall, the Hat had ultimately chosen Ravenclaw for Flitwick.
Over the years, the two professors often joked about it over tea, wondering what might've happened if either had been a little more assertive—or indecisive. Perhaps their roles would have reversed: McGonagall the Head of Ravenclaw, Flitwick the Head of Gryffindor.
At that thought, she glanced toward the staff table.
As if sensing her gaze, Professor Flitwick smiled warmly at her.
Clearly, Holmes and Granger had stirred memories for him as well.
Turning her eyes back toward the Gryffindor table, she noticed Sherlock deep in conversation with Percy Weasley, the house prefect. Whatever Sherlock had said, it left Percy looking rather perplexed.
And for good reason.
After Percy carefully explained the formal definition of a Hatstall, Sherlock had tilted his head thoughtfully and replied:
"Doesn't sound all that different… actually, their explanation is much easier to accept."
One sentence—and Percy was completely floored.
Does this first-year have no concept of tact?
I'm a prefect, for Merlin's sake!
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
Fred and George Weasley burst into laughter.
"Well done! You're a natural. Come hang out with us from now on!"
"Yeah, Holmes! We'll make a name for ourselves across the entire school!"
Sherlock: ...
He ignored the twins and turned his attention back to the Sorting Ceremony.
A few more students took longer to be Sorted, brushing close to Hatstall territory.
Among them was the round-faced boy who'd lost (and recovered) his toad—Neville Longbottom.
He'd tripped while running up to the stool, and then sat nervously squirming for nearly five minutes before the hat finally declared: Gryffindor.
He then dashed away, still wearing the Sorting Hat.
Amid a chorus of laughter, Neville had to run back and return the hat to Professor McGonagall.
After him came a very different kind of first-year—Draco Malfoy, proud and smug about his bloodline.
In stark contrast to Neville, the hat barely touched Draco's head before shouting:
"Slytherin!"
Quick and decisive.
As Draco strutted toward the Slytherin table, reuniting with Crabbe and Goyle, Sherlock watched him with a thoughtful expression.
From what he could tell so far, cases like his and Hermione's, or Neville and Draco's, were all exceptions.
Most other students, like Hannah Abbott, had been Sorted in under thirty seconds.
At most, the longer cases took only two to three minutes.
Hatstalls like Sherlock were exceedingly rare—and even near-Hatstalls like Hermione and Neville were few and far between.
From a scientific standpoint, it followed the classic bell curve: few on the extremes, most in the middle.
And so, the ceremony carried on smoothly under McGonagall's supervision—until she read the next name:
"Harry Potter!"
The Chosen One.
The Hall erupted in gasps the moment Harry stepped forward.
Even the temperature seemed to drop.
"Did she say Potter?"
"Is that the Harry Potter?"
"It is! If your eyes are sharp, you can see the scar on his forehead!"
"No way—who could see that from here…"
The twins couldn't resist.
George leaned toward Sherlock.
"Holmes, rumor has it you're close with Potter?"
Sherlock nodded slightly, and Fred immediately chimed in, "Then you must know him well! Which house do you think he'll be Sorted into?"
This time, Percy didn't stop them—he was curious too.
"The Hat will take a while," Sherlock replied without hesitation. "But in the end—it'll be Gryffindor."
"Why?" Hermione asked quickly, seizing the moment.
"Yeah, why?" echoed the twins.
Others nearby turned their attention toward Sherlock.
If Harry Potter really joined Gryffindor, it would be huge news.
But why was Sherlock so sure?
What gave him the confidence to make such a prediction before the Sorting even happened?
Of course—the answer lay in personal experience.
Based on his own Sorting, Sherlock had realized the hat respected a student's personal choice.
And from what he understood of Harry, all three houses—Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Gryffindor—were plausible. Ravenclaw was the least likely.
Between Gryffindor and Slytherin, the latter might be strategically preferable.
But Harry didn't want Slytherin.
That left only one choice.
When Sherlock finished explaining, the nearby Gryffindors looked at each other in disbelief.
Wasn't that a bit too far-fetched?
Fred and George still wanted to press him for more—but this time, Sherlock stayed silent.
Seeing the look on his face, they had no choice but to drop it.
Well, we'll know soon enough whether he's bluffing or not…
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