A tense silence hung in the air as Professor McGonagall led the first-years through the vast entrance hall. Stephen walked calmly, his gaze sweeping over every detail: the massive stone walls, the towering ceilings, the flickering torches, analyzing the structure and purpose of each element. Behind him, Draco Malfoy still looked pale and disheveled, his arrogance replaced by undisguised confusion. Harry and Ron cast admiring glances at Stephen, while Hermione, though attempting to maintain her usual stern demeanor, couldn't hide a slight astonishment.
The double doors swung open, and the first-years stepped into the Great Hall. Stephen froze. Even for his pragmatic mind, the sight was stunning. Thousands of twinkling stars shimmered overhead, creating the illusion of a bottomless night sky, swaying above four long tables where hundreds of students in robes of every color of the rainbow were already seated. At the far end of the hall, on a raised dais, was the teachers' table.
"Magical projection," Stephen whispered, his gaze instantly analyzing the engineering marvel of the ceiling. It was an impressive combination of magic and illusion.
Hermione, standing nearby, apparently heard him. "It's an enchantment, Stephen! The ceiling is bewitched to look exactly like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
Stephen nodded. "Confirmed. Magical projection. The use of optical illusionism to create the illusion of reality. Interesting."
Professor McGonagall led the first-years forward, to a tall stool standing before the teachers' table. On the stool lay an old, frayed, pointed hat. A strange energy emanated from it, which Stephen picked up with his heightened perception. He noted its unusual morphology and the absence of visible sensory organs, which made it an unconventional classification tool.
Next to the stool stood the teachers. Among them, Stephen immediately recognized Dumbledore — tall, thin, with very long silver hair and a beard tucked into his belt, and bright blue eyes full of mischief. He radiated a powerful but controlled magical field, far stronger than McGonagall's.
Professor McGonagall unrolled a scroll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the Sorting Hat and sit on the stool."
The hall filled with tense anticipation. The silence was so thick you could almost hear every student nervously swallowing.
"Abbott, Hannah!" McGonagall called.
A pink-faced girl with two blonde pigtails nervously put on the hat. After a short silence, the hat shouted:
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
The Hufflepuff table erupted in applause and cheers. One by one, McGonagall called names, and the hat sorted the students into their houses.
"Boot, Terry!" — RAVENCLAW!
"Brocklehurst, Mandy!" — RAVENCLAW!
"Brown, Lavender!" — GRYFFINDOR!
When Malfoy's name was called, he swaggered forward. The hat barely touched his head before it loudly shouted:
"SLYTHERIN!"
The Slytherin table burst into applause. Stephen observed this with clinical interest. "The decision-making speed for Draco Malfoy was anomalously high," he whispered. "This indicates very clear, unambiguous parameters in his psychological profile that align with Slytherin criteria. Or, the hat can read intentions and ambitions much faster than personality traits."
Harry nervously fidgeted. "Stephen, I wonder where we'll end up?" he whispered.
"Based on the analysis of your behavioral patterns and declared values, Harry, I hypothesize that you will be assigned to Gryffindor," Stephen replied. "Your propensity for risk, protection of the weak, and overt display of courage align with the described criteria for that house. For Ron… his loyalty to friends and a certain degree of recklessness also point to Gryffindor. Hermione, with her pursuit of knowledge and logical thinking, will most likely go to Ravenclaw, though her bravery in certain situations could be a factor of uncertainty. My own parameters… they are more complex."
After several other names, it was announced:
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione approached the stool, her face pale. She put on the hat, and it dropped over her eyes. The hat was silent for a long time. Stephen watched carefully. He heard the hat muttering, sounding like an internal dialogue. Then, after a long pause, the hat finally shouted:
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Stephen mentally noted: the hypothesis about Ravenclaw for Hermione was not confirmed. Her inner courage outweighed her intellectual inclinations in the hat's ranking system. This was interesting.
Finally, a name was called that made the entire hall fall silent.
"Potter, Harry!"
Harry stepped forward uncertainly. As he put on the hat, an excited whisper swept through the hall. The hat sat on his head for a long time. Stephen saw Harry muttering something. The hat changed its mind several times. Finally, it shouted:
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The hall exploded as if a bomb had gone off. The Gryffindor table cheered Harry joyfully.
Stephen nodded. The hypothesis was confirmed.
"Strange, Stephen!"
In the hall, which was still buzzing after Potter's recent sorting, when the name "Strange, Stephen!" was called, most of the older students merely exchanged glances with slight bewilderment—for them, it was just another unfamiliar name. However, among the first-years who had witnessed the incident in the entrance hall, gazes instantly fixed on this new, enigmatic boy, and a barely audible whisper went through them. Stephen stepped forward, his movements confident and precise. When he reached the stool, he calmly sat down, leaning back and crossing one leg over the other. His posture exuded power and authority. Professor McGonagall took the old, wrinkled hat and carefully lowered it onto his head. The hat immediately slipped over his eyes, plunging him into darkness and silence.
Inside the hat, in his mind, a quiet, ancient voice spoke.
"Hm-m-m… Interesting. Very interesting. Incredible intellect, no doubt. A tremendous thirst for knowledge… Oh, my…"
Suddenly the voice fell silent. The hat on Stephen's head stopped making any sounds. It simply sat there, motionless, as if it had lost consciousness. Not a few seconds passed before it began to twitch and writhe, emitting muffled, choked sounds. The entire hall fell silent, observing this unprecedented phenomenon.
In Stephen's mind, there was no voice from the Hat. He felt only a very faint, almost imperceptible pressure on his mental barriers, which he had instinctively erected even before the hat touched his head. He had previously read about similar magical artifacts capable of mental scanning, and as soon as he acquired books on magic, he immediately studied all available materials on Occlumency. His brain, accustomed to ultra-fast information processing and instant application of knowledge, perceived this as a primary task – protecting his own consciousness from unauthorized access. His mental shields were impenetrable.
The hat continued to twitch, as if trying to break through an invisible wall. The hall remained in tense silence. Professor McGonagall, who was usually unruffled, looked visibly agitated. Even Dumbledore at the teachers' table narrowed his eyes, his gaze filled with deep interest.
Suddenly, the hat flapped even more violently, and from beneath its brim came a loud, tearing scream, which seemed full of rage and helplessness. It wasn't just a scream; it was the roar of an ancient being whose millennia-long existence had for the first time encountered an insurmountable obstacle.
"YOU! YOU THERE!" the hat shrieked, its voice distorted. "WHAT IS THIS?! REMOVE THESE CHARMS! IMMEDIATELY! I CANNOT PENETRATE! I CANNOT READ YOU! NO ONE HAS EVER DARED… THIS IS OUTRAGEOUS! TAKE THEM OFF! TAKE THEM OFF!"
The hall was in shock. Students whispered, some recoiled in fright. No one had ever heard such a thing from the Sorting Hat. It thrashed on Stephen's head like a trapped bird.
Stephen remained absolutely calm. He felt the hat's rage, but his mental barriers were too strong. He saw no point in concessions that would lead to unauthorized data disclosure.
"Your emotional response is irrational and ineffective for the task at hand," Stephen mentally replied. "Cancellation of protective protocols is not possible. I suggest you alter your analysis method."
The hat let out a desperate, broken wail, like a death rattle. Then, suddenly, it fell silent, and from beneath its brim came a low, indignant muttering: "Such an audacious generation... Never before..." A tense silence hung in the hall. After an agonizing pause, the muttering abruptly ceased, and the Hat, as if broken, loudly shouted:
"STRANGE, STEPHEN… RAVENCLAW!"
The hat, literally bouncing off Stephen's head, fell back onto the stool with a dull thud, springing slightly. The entire hall was frozen in dead silence. Students sat with their mouths agape, their eyes wide. Professor McGonagall, who was usually unflappable, took a deep breath and merely shook her head wearily. Even Dumbledore at the teachers' table, usually so serene, was amused, and his bright blue eyes seemed to sparkle with even greater interest and extraordinary attention, fixed on Stephen. No one had ever seen the Sorting Hat behave like this.
Stephen calmly opened his eyes and headed towards the Ravenclaw table. He silently took a seat at the table, his gaze momentarily resting on Professor McGonagall. A thin, almost imperceptible, but distinctly impudent smile flickered across his usually impassive face. He knew he had made an impression. His choice had been made. The system had determined his most effective position, albeit with unexpected methodological complications.
As he approached the table, the Ravenclaw students, recovering from their shock, began to applaud, though not as boisterously as the Gryffindors. Their applause was more restrained but full of respect for the intelligence and mental strength displayed. They looked at Stephen with undisguised curiosity.
Harry, Ron, and Hermione watched with astonishment as Stephen headed to another table.
"What… what was that?!" Harry whispered. "He didn't go to Gryffindor!"
"But he was so… Gryffindorish!" exclaimed Ron.
Hermione, meanwhile, looked at Stephen with even greater astonishment than before. "He… he's truly phenomenal," she murmured, almost inaudibly. "Occlumency… and Ravenclaw…"
Stephen took his place at the Ravenclaw table. "My mind is private property," he calmly stated, addressing the nearest Ravenclaws, who were still staring at him with wide eyes. "I detected an attempt at unauthorized access and applied defensive protocols described in the Occlumency chapter of the extended edition of Magical Theory of the Mind. It simply could not overcome the barriers. This was expected, but its emotional reaction was excessive. Now begins the learning and data collection phase."
He surveyed the hall. His gaze met Draco Malfoy's, who was looking at him from the Slytherin table with burning anger, as if experiencing a new humiliation after the morning incident. Stephen simply winked in response to that look. Another mental blow that he knew would hit its target.
After the feast, when the food magically vanished from the tables and desserts appeared, Dumbledore rose and made his final announcements, including a warning about the Forbidden Forest and the room on the third floor. Then, after the traditional Hogwarts anthem, the students began to disperse.
"Ravenclaws, follow me!" shouted the prefect, a tall girl with braided hair named Penelope Clearwater.
Stephen followed her, carefully memorizing the route, creating a three-dimensional map of the castle in his mind.
"The castle's navigation system is exceptionally complex," he noted. "Movement efficiency depends on spatial orientation and memorization of key markers."
Finally, they reached the eagle knocker standing before the entrance to the Ravenclaw common room.
"What is always broken by a single word?" the eagle said.
The prefect, Penelope, surveyed all the first-years. "And now, my dear Ravenclaws, listen carefully! Every evening, the eagle knocker will ask us a question. Whoever can answer that question will be allowed to enter the common room. And for the very first person to answer correctly, there's a special prize! The first to answer correctly today will get a private room for their entire first year. So, think!"
She turned back to the eagle.
"What is always broken by a single word?" the eagle repeated.
At that moment, Stephen, without waiting a second, calmly said:
"Silence."
The eagle nodded, and the door opened. Penelope Clearwater, her eyes wide with surprise, looked at Stephen. None of the first-years had even had time to think, and Stephen had already given the answer.
"Congratulations, Strange!" the prefect finally managed, though with noticeable astonishment. "You get a private room!"
The door opened. Stephen nodded.
"A logical authentication system with a verbal query. Vulnerable to intellectual hacking or information theft," he muttered. "However, the complexity of the task prevents random guessing."
They found themselves in the Ravenclaw common room—a spacious, circular room with high arched windows offering a view of the Hogwarts grounds. The room was filled with bookshelves and comfortable armchairs.
"Your dormitories are upstairs," the prefect said. "Your luggage is already there."
Stephen proceeded to the boys' dormitory. It was a room with several beds, on which their trunks lay. His own, specially modified for optimal storage and transport of equipment, was already waiting for him. He immediately headed to a separate door, on which hung a sign that read "Private Room," which, it turned out, had already been prepared.
He approached his window, which overlooked the Forbidden Forest. A dark and mysterious forest, harboring unknown biological species and, possibly, sources of anomalous energy. He took out a small pen-like device and turned it on. A small indicator on it began to slowly flash, registering the levels of magical energy around him.
One of the Ravenclaw first-years, a thin boy with disheveled hair and a very sharp gaze, appeared beside him.
"What is that, if you don't mind me asking?" he inquired, his voice full of genuine curiosity.
"A device for measuring the ambient magical field and identifying anomalies," Stephen replied calmly. "It will allow me to quantify magic and determine its basic parameters."
The boy nodded, his eyes lighting up. "You… you're the one who made the Hat act that way? That was amazing! I never thought it could be blocked."
Stephen gave a slight nod. "Any system with input parameters can be blocked given a sufficient level of access control."
This year truly promised to be unusual.