As expected! As soon as the Sorting Hat's voice rang out, Ryan's heart began to beat. "Do you recognize me?" he asked silently in his heart.
"Of course... the descendant of the Founders, my little master," replied the Sorting Hat's joyful voice. The Sorting Hat's voice was filled with joy. "Time has the greatest magic. It makes the world forget your existence, but I will never forget—I am the greatest creation of the Founders!"
"Excellent." Ryan didn't pay much attention to the Sorting Hat's boasting. The question he was concerned about was very clear: "So, Mr. Hat... do you know about my teachers? Are they really dead?"
This was the only question he cared about.
"Oh..." The Sorting Hat's mood darkened noticeably. "I'm not sure, young master," it said. "I can sense your emotions, but I'm only a hat... I haven't witnessed the fate of all my masters."
"All my masters?" Ryan's heart darkened even further, sensing a hidden meaning.
"Yes—Salazar Slytherin left the school long before anything happened. He certainly wouldn't tell a hat why." The hat explained "As for the remaining masters... perhaps you should take a look at this." As the old hat spoke, as if reminiscing about the past, Ryan felt his mind drift.
A scene appeared before his eyes.
"A memory?" Ryan concluded he was witnessing one. He instinctively turned his head, and a shudder ran through his body—he saw a familiar figure.
The lion-like beard and towering stature.
"Mr. Godric!" Ryan called out, but then he realized he was only in a memory. He noticed his perspective was strange—it seemed as if he were being held in Gryffindor's hand, from a very low angle.
And then he realized... he was now the Sorting Hat! This was the hat's memory—it was actually a living being with its own memories!
But Ryan's surprise didn't last long, as he quickly noticed the scene around him. Under a gloomy sky, the cold wind from the Black Lake stirred the dry grass. It seemed late autumn, a time when everything withers, even the light seemed dim. Gryffindor stood there, and beside him stood a slightly plump-faced, yet gentle and wise witch.
It was Helga Hufflepuff.
At that moment, the eyes of these two legendary wizards held a complex expression. Gryffindor's eyes, seemingly eternally resolute and courageous in Ryan's memory, held a sadness. Hufflepuff's eyes, seemingly eternally warm and gentle in Ryan's memory, held a sharp edge. They stood by the Black Lake, wearing silver medals, gazing at something not far away.
Ryan saw that thing, too.
It was a sarcophagus, carved with intricate, elegant, and intelligent designs. Atop it was an eagle, wings spread, ready for flight. Beneath the sarcophagus lay countless flowers, magical instruments, books, and runes.
Ryan recognized the runes as symbols of death and eternal sleep. The sarcophagus was ajar, and Gryffindor was tall—so even from the Sorting Hat's perspective, Ryan could see the occupant within.
It was a beautiful witch.
She wore blue wizard robes and a crown of mistletoe. Her calm face held the same cool, noble elegance she had in life. She wore two rings, one on the index finger of her left hand and the other on her right. And even in the midst of memory, Ryan felt his heart skip a beat.
He saw the words 'RE' and 'HR' scrawled in crooked ink on the rings.
Ryan couldn't possibly forget them, because the ring with 'RE' written on it was the one he had crafted and given her—the first artifact he had created as a gift for her alchemy training. RE were his initials.
"Mrs. Rowena..."
The cruelest reality lay before him—Rowena Ravenclaw lay in a sarcophagus. He had witnessed her funeral. Sorrow washed over Ryan, yet in his memory, he couldn't even shed a tear.
But then...
"I must go," a deep voice came, a Gryffindor's. "As planned, I will leave the Sorting Hat at school—Hogwarts and Rowena's body will be in your care, Helga." He turned, not looking at the sarcophagus again.
Before him, Helga Hufflepuff nodded. The sadness of a dear friend's death and the impending departure of another filled her eyes. But even so, her expression remained resolute. "I will recruit some house-elves to serve the school, and I will keep your departure a secret..."
"I know, Helga," Gryffindor interrupted her. "You don't have to tell me that. I always believe in my friends—whether it's Rowena, Salazar, or you—just as I believe in myself."
"Before, with you and Rowena around, the school's troubles never fell on me," he said, watching Helga shrug. "Now that Rowena's gone first, you'll have to bear the brunt of the burden."
Hearing this, Helga laughed helplessly. "So, can't you take responsibility for the school? You'll still have time to go to the Fairy Kingdom after you've dealt with this mess..." She was clearly dissatisfied with Gryffindor's long-standing hands-off behavior.
"Oh, that's too difficult for me." But Gryffindor just waved his hand and grinned. "That's not my job. There's only one thing I should do..." With this, the founder of Gryffindor grasped the sword at his waist.
"I must fight."
"As always," he said, and left with Lion—or rather, the Sorting Hat.
As he got further and further away from the sarcophagus, Ryan seemed to hear an ancient ballad. He could tell it was Teacher Helga's voice.
"Don't cry for the sleepers, they just walk into the mist. The web of time hides intertwined paths."
"The wind will bring back news, and the forest will grow new vines."
"When the holly burns at dusk in the thousandth autumn, when the wandering children return to their homeland."
"We will meet again, at the door woven with mistletoe."
Then, the light and shadows around him gradually faded, as if the color had been drained from a painting. Ryan's consciousness returned to his body. He heard the whispers of the young wizards in the audience.
"What takes him so long?"
"I told you, he's special!"
"Is this 'hat embarrassment'? I've only heard my parents talk about it, he said it should be because he possesses the traits of more than one houses, right? The hat doesn't know where should it put him..."
"Then, what would happen?"
"I don't know…"
"Cool!"
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Author's note
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