Harry Potter: Magic and Guns

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*****

Harry almost couldn't keep a straight face as he screamed internally!

Had he mistaken someone for Grindelwald? The elderly man with short white hair standing beside Dumbledore, wearing a black high-collared coat, looked so much like him! Or was there something wrong with this world??

Wasn't Grindelwald defeated by Dumbledore in a duel decades ago? Wait a minute!

Harry suddenly realized he had never actually read the magical history books of this world, nor had he bothered to look up anything related. He hadn't even bought Chocolate Frogs because he found them too sweet, let alone gotten a Dumbledore Chocolate Frog card.

Could it be...?

The thought that Snape was his godfather somehow made everything seem more plausible.

'Haha~' Harry let out a half-hearted, cold laugh in his mind. He honestly wanted to cast a memory charm on himself right now or quickly master Occlumency to seal away everything he knew from his previous life about the HP universe. This world was already messed up enough. If he tried to follow the so-called "correct" plot and act like some kind of "prophet," he might not even know how he ended up dead.

While Harry's mind was wandering in all directions, the Sorting Hat had already started singing its usual strange Sorting Song. The old hat, still as tattered as ever, sat grinning on a four-legged stool, loudly singing the lyrics it had spent all year composing in its odd melody. When it finished, a round of applause erupted from the young wizards, and the thunderous clapping brought Harry back to reality. Professor McGonagall had begun calling names.

"Whoever's name I call, sit on the stool and put on the hat."

Professor McGonagall took out a roll of parchment and read the first name.

"Hannah Abbott!"

A rosy-cheeked blonde girl, with two pigtails sticking out like handlebars, stumbled out of the line. She placed the hat on her head, its brim just covering her eyes, and after a brief pause—

"Hufflepuff!" the hat shouted.

A group of students seated on the right side of the hall clapped to welcome Hannah to the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the pudgy ghost, draped in chains, waving at her, looking quite pleased.

Professor McGonagall continued calling names rapidly, and the Sorting Hat worked just as efficiently. Over half of the hundred or so students had been sorted, and not one had lasted more than thirty seconds under the hat.

Both Cassandra and Draco Malfoy were unsurprisingly placed in Slytherin. The moment the hat touched their blond heads, it shouted, "Slytherin!"

When it was Hermione's turn, the Sorting Hat muttered to itself for a while as if having a private conversation with her, but even then, it didn't break the thirty-second mark. Smacking its lips, the hat declared, "Ravenclaw!"

Hermione took off the hat and waved at Harry and Neville before skipping over to the second table on the left.

"It seems Hermione really does love reading," Harry mumbled, a bit surprised.

"Yeah, she sure does," Neville agreed with a nod just as Professor McGonagall called his name.

"Neville Longbottom."

The sudden call startled Neville so much that he jumped. If Harry hadn't grabbed him, Neville might have tripped over his own feet and fallen flat on the ground.

Fortunately, nothing happened on the way. Muttering under his breath, Neville reached the stool and plopped himself down—right on top of the Sorting Hat.

"Mmph! Mmmph!! Mmmmph!!!"

The muffled cries from the struggling Sorting Hat made the students burst into laughter. It was the first time anyone had seen the hat in such a predicament. This slightly clumsy boy had amused hundreds of people in an instant, and Neville's face flushed bright red. Under Professor McGonagall's stern gaze, Neville quickly stood up, hurriedly adjusting the hat while apologizing profusely to it.

"Sigh."

The Sorting Hat let out a helpless sigh as it was finally placed on Neville's head.

"Hmm, quite a tricky one..."

The voice of the Sorting Hat echoed in Neville's mind, "I see the courage deep within you, child, though I'm not referring to the kind of bravery it took to sit on me."

"So how about Gryffindor? I think that's where you can uncover the courage inside you."

"R-really?" Neville swallowed nervously, unsure.

"Yes, your parents were both in Gryffindor, and you possess their bravery. However..."

The Sorting Hat paused. It could perceive a person's inner qualities and hear their thoughts, but it couldn't read memories. Otherwise, Hogwarts might need an Azkaban house, and Voldemort would have been thrown in it upon admission. The hat saw the fiery ambition burning within Tom Riddle and thus sorted him into Slytherin. What it saw in Neville, though, was courage, shrouded in mist.

If souls had colors representing one's character, then what the Sorting Hat glimpsed was this unique hue within each person.

Someone had tampered with Neville's memories, making him forget some deeply ingrained experiences. But magic couldn't obscure the Sorting Hat's insight—it could still see the qualities buried in Neville's heart.

"...You just need to find it for yourself, to discover the courage that resides within you."

"Child, Gryffindor is the place for you. I believe it suits you well."

Neville bit his lip, and the Sorting Hat sensed his hesitation. That's precisely why it was taking its time with him. A person's heart is complex, and their house will heavily influence their next seven years at Hogwarts.

"Yeah, Harry told me I should be braver... I need to start changing myself, and only then..." Neville thought shyly of the stack of love letters Harry had received. He wished one day people would notice him too—not necessarily in a grand way, just enough for him to no longer feel invisible, to have his own sense of presence.

The Sorting Hat smacked its lips, satisfied with its judgment. Its intuition was as sharp as ever.

"Then it's settled—Gry—"

"Wait!"

Neville suddenly shouted, "I want to go to Hufflepuff!"

"Eh-hem!"

The Sorting Hat nearly choked, almost throwing its back out—if it had one.

"Why?" it asked, bewildered.

"Because this time, I want to make my own brave choice!"

Neville's earnest reply left the Sorting Hat in a state of shock.

"You... I... Oh, good grief."

"Alright, alright, fine."

"Bravery, huh? Have it your way," the Sorting Hat grumbled through clenched teeth. "You're sure about Hufflepuff?"

"Yes!"

"Then so be it—Hufflepuff!"

The Sorting Hat called out loudly, and with that, it was decided. The old hat let out a sigh of relief. These young wizards were becoming harder to deal with, no doubt.

(End of Chapter)