The Great Hall, Hogwarts.
This was the crown jewel of the wizarding world. Thousands of candles floated mid-air, illuminating the vast hall as if it were day. Four long tables represented the four houses: Gryffindor's gold and scarlet, Hufflepuff's yellow and black, Ravenclaw's blue and bronze, and... Slytherin's silver and green.
The first-years stood in a line, nervously awaiting their judgment.
Ivan Potter stood at the very back. He looked completely relaxed, even discussing dessert options with Blaise Zabini in front of him.
"Ivan, aren't you nervous?" Blaise's voice trembled. "I heard the Sorting Hat can read minds!"
"Read minds?" Ivan chuckled softly, his fingers lightly tapping the ebony wand hidden in his sleeve. "Then it better pray its mental defenses are thick enough, or my thoughts might just blow it apart."
Blaise shuddered and took a step forward, deciding to put some distance between himself and this lunatic.
"Next! Ivan Potter!"
Professor McGonagall's voice rang out.
The hall fell silent instantly. Everyone's eyes focused on the boy in the battered jacket who was already wearing a Slytherin Prefect's badge.
Ivan strode forward. Passing the Gryffindor table, he even winked at Harry Potter, startling the Savior so much he dropped his fork.
He sat on the three-legged stool. Professor McGonagall placed the patched, dirty old hat on his head.
Instantly, the world went dark.
---
Consciousness Space.
Ivan didn't see a white void like others described. Instead, he found himself standing amidst desolate ruins. The air smelled of sulfur and blood.
In front of him, the Sorting Hat was curled up like a frightened ball of yarn, shivering violently.
"Oi," Ivan kicked the hat with his toe. "Don't play dead. Hurry up and sort me. I'm hungry."
The Sorting Hat didn't sing its usual song. Instead, it let out a screech like an old tea kettle boiling over:
"Azkaban! I want to go to Azkaban!! Let me out!! I don't want to be here!!"
Ivan paused. "What did you say?"
"Monster! You're a monster!!" The Hat's voice was tearful, echoing in Ivan's mind. "I see it! I see your soul! It's black! Not normal black... it's like a black hole that swallows everything! And that shard of the nose-less freak! There's a demon living inside you!!"
Ivan raised an eyebrow.
It seems the "Dark Lord Soul Fragment" from the System, combined with the hostility accumulated from two lifetimes, is a bit excessive.
"So?" Ivan asked casually. "You're sorting me into Azkaban?"
"No! Azkaban doesn't take eleven-year-olds! But I can't put you in any House! You'd burn down Gryffindor! You'd poison Hufflepuff! You'd drive Ravenclaw insane!" The Hat screamed. "Slytherin... maybe Slytherin could hold you, but there's only one snake there, and you'd probably make soup out of it!!"
Ivan smiled. He stepped forward and grabbed the "brim" of the Hat (though it was just a fold of cloth).
"Listen to me, you old rag." Ivan's voice dropped low, laced with a hint of Parseltongue hiss. "You are just a hat, not a god. I don't want to go to Azkaban, and I don't want to burn down Hogwarts... at least not right now."
He leaned in close, his emerald eyes glowing red in the mental space.
"I'm going to Slytherin. Not because I yearn for it, but because only the people there are worthy of being my audience."
"If you dare shout 'Azkaban' or 'Gryffindor', I will set you on fire in front of everyone. I imagine Phoenix fire smells quite... distinct."
> [System Alert: Sorting Hat feels "Extreme Terror"!]
> [Emotion Value +500!]
> [Current Total: 3300 Points!]
The Hat froze.
It felt Ivan's undisguised killing intent. It wasn't a threat; it was a notification.
This boy really would burn it. With Dark Magic!
"I... I'll sort..." The Hat whimpered, sounding like a bullied schoolboy. "S... Slytherin..."
---
Reality, The Great Hall.
Everyone was staring at the hat on Ivan's head.
It had been thirty seconds—a "Hatstall," extremely rare in Hogwarts history. Usually, the hat decided in seconds.
Professor Snape gripped his wand tightly under the table. He was worried—if the hat made a mistake, or if the little monster exploded violently, he needed to be ready.
Dumbledore continued eating his sherbet lemon, but a sharp glint flashed in his blue eyes.
Suddenly, the hat ripped open a wide tear like a terrified mouth and screamed at a volume the entire school could hear:
"Azkaban! Azkaban! I won't go to Azkaban!!"
Dead silence.
One second later, chaos erupted.
"Merlin! Is he a criminal?"
"Dark Wizard! He's a Dark Wizard!"
"Arrest him!"
Gryffindor students shrank back in fear. Even the Slytherins looked at each other nervously. Azkaban? That was the prison whose name you didn't mention lightly!
Professor McGonagall turned pale, hand clutching her chest. "This... this is impossible..."
Snape stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His expression was complicated—shock, validation ("I knew it"), and even a trace of... fanatical appreciation.
Just then, the Hat's screaming stopped abruptly. Then, in a voice louder, more desperate, and more shrill than before, it shouted the word:
"SLYTHERIN!!!"
The shout was so loud it shook dust from the ceiling rafters.
Ivan calmly took off the hat, placed it back on the stool, and even patted the dust off it as if soothing a frightened pet.
The hall was silent for three seconds.
Then, from the Slytherin table, a smattering of applause began, growing louder and louder.
It wasn't welcome; it was awe.
To make the Sorting Hat scream about Azkaban and then force it to pick Slytherin—what kind of ruthless character was this?
Ivan smiled and walked toward the Slytherin table.
As he passed Dumbledore, the old Headmaster spoke softly, his voice clear enough for Ivan to hear.
"Sometimes, the future the Hat sees isn't necessarily the truth, is it, Mr. Potter?"
Ivan paused slightly, turning to the High Table.
He didn't bow. Instead, he spoke in a tone that sounded like an ancient pact, meant only for the two of them.
"The Hat saw what I wanted it to see, Headmaster. As for the future..."
Ivan pointed to the Slytherin badge on his chest, a wild smirk curling his lips.
"I came here on a pilgrimage, Professor Dumbledore. In this castle full of hypocrisy, only Mr. Voldemort's 'purity' is worth my study."
With that, he walked straight to the head of the Slytherin table and sat in the Prefect's seat.
Leaving a hall full of dumbfounded students and teachers.
> [System Alert: Crowd Shocked! Emotion Value +800!]
> [Dumbledore (Confusion + Doubt + Curiosity): Emotion Value +300!]
> [Snape (Ecstasy + Finding a Kindred Spirit + "This kid gets me"): Emotion Value +200!]
> [Harry Potter (Admiration + Confusion): Emotion Value +50!]
Professor Snape sat back down. Using his wide sleeve as cover, he poured himself a glass of wine and downed it in one gulp.
"Severus," Dumbledore's voice murmured in his ear, tinged with resignation. "It seems your choice for Prefect has quite the... personality."
"He is a genius, Headmaster." Snape wiped his mouth, expressionless. "Only Slytherin can contain a genius. Or a madman."
"Let us hope he is not a combination of both." Dumbledore sighed, but his gaze on Ivan's back grew heavy.
---
At the Slytherin Table.
As soon as Ivan sat down, the surrounding snakes scattered like he was plague-ridden, creating a large vacuum around him. Only Blaise Zabini, steeling himself, remained seated nearby.
"Iv... Prefect Ivan," Blaise stammered. "Earlier, the Hat said Azkaban..."
"That was a misunderstanding." Ivan picked up a silver goblet and poured himself pumpkin juice. "The Hat is old; it's getting senile. It actually meant 'America'—a Muggle country full of freedom and gunfights. I've always wanted to visit."
Blaise: "...Ah? Is that so?"
"Naturally." Ivan took a sip of pumpkin juice, then suddenly turned to Draco Malfoy.
Draco was hiding behind Pansy Parkinson, trying to be invisible. Meeting Ivan's gaze, he trembled.
"Malfoy," Ivan said, as if discussing the weather. "I hear your family has connections at the Ministry?"
"Y... Yes." Draco replied, trying to sound brave but failing. "My father is a school governor!"
"Excellent." Ivan pulled a piece of parchment from his jacket and slid it to Draco. "Do me a favor. Before tomorrow, I want every ingredient on this list in my storage cupboard. If even one is missing..."
Ivan snapped his fingers.
Poof.
The pumpkin juice in front of Draco instantly turned into a bubbling red liquid, emitting the thick, metallic scent of fresh blood.
"That cup will be your fate." Ivan smiled.
Draco stared at the "blood," his face turning whiter than the parchment. He nodded frantically like a pecking chicken. "No problem! Mr. Prefect! I'll owl my father tonight!"
> [System Alert: Draco Malfoy's Fear Maxed Out! Emotion Value +100!]
Satisfied, Ivan turned back to his steak.
In the invisible void before him, the System panel refreshed rapidly:
> [Main Quest Updated: Within one month, convince at least 50% of Hogwarts students that you are the "Reincarnation of the Dark Lord" or a "Death Eater in Training."]
Ivan's hand paused as he cut his steak.
"50%? That's too low."
He forked a piece of beef into his mouth, his eyes sweeping up to the dozing phoenix above the High Table.
"I want 100%."
And, Dumbledore, you old bee...
Ivan added silently in his heart.
The game has only just begun.