A bell only he could hear chimed in Theodore Ashbourne's ear, and the System screen began to refresh. He almost lost his composure.
"…seriously?"
"So it's Hannah Abbott's name, not a literal bell, that counts as the 'golden bell' to the System?"
A beat later he had to admit—it kind of tracked. Worlds come and go, but Hannah Abbott endures.
Either way, the System wasn't broken. He exhaled.
After the "welcome" line flashed, a rush of prompts streamed past:
[Initiation rite in progress. A Saint gazes from afar. System will temporarily conceal itself and complete the upgrade.]
[Host must proceed unaided.]
The display dimmed and flickered.
Fine. Even if the System tucked itself away, his talents still worked—and Hogwarts' Sorting wasn't exactly a meat grinder.
What did catch his interest was that word: "Saint."
He'd already seen Voldemort, whom the System had mapped to Duobao (the Treasures Elder). Duobao was a top-tier figure in Investiture-era terms—could even array the Zhu Xian formation by proxy—but he wasn't a Saint. That gap was a gulf.
The System's mappings had their own logic. Voldemort was about as "end-boss" as the Potterverse got, and even then he hadn't been labelled a Saint. Dumbledore versus Voldemort was arguable, but not leagues apart—so also not Saint-tier.
If this world had a Chan counterpart peering down, Theodore guessed it might echo Nanji Xianweng (the South Pole Elder)—the senior-most disciple figure on the Chan side. But the Saint? Founders? Something older? Ancient Magic?
He thumbed his wandstaff, eyes narrowing. The wizarding world ran deeper than it looked. Still, canon suggested even the later wars didn't crack anything truly Saint-level open. If he didn't go looking for trouble, he probably wouldn't brush against it soon.
He put the thought away and focused on the moment. You only got one Hogwarts Sorting.
Professor McGonagall continued calling names.
"Susan Bones…"
"Hufflepuff!"
Theodore noted the soft warmth in the staff's eyes as she set the Hat aside and walked to her table. Professor Sprout began the applause. The Bones name did that—almost an entire family of stalwarts. Many Hufflepuffs among them, but brave as any Gryffindor; Voldemort himself had killed Amelia's kin. In 1995, an escaped Death Eater would butcher more of Susan's relatives. Theodore's gaze softened for a heartbeat.
More familiar names rolled by.
Lavender Brown—Ron's first girlfriend in the books—went to Gryffindor.
Seamus Finnigan—detonation prodigy—kept the Hat debating for a good minute. Where can one safely maximise explosions? Adventurous lions it was: Gryffindor. Adventure pairs well with combustibles.
Then—
"Hermione Granger!"
The books skipped quickly past her Sorting, but Rowling's comments make it clear: Hermione was a Hatstall—five whole minutes between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. In the end, the Hat chose the bolder heart over the thirst for knowledge: Gryffindor.
Harry followed—no need to recap the thunder. The hall's rafters almost shook loose.
Four names remained; Theodore and Ron among them.
Next up:
"Theodore Ashbourne!"
The hall rippled. Among Muggle-borns and Muggle-raised first-years, chatter spiked nearly as loud as for Harry.
"Theodore Ashbourne?"
"You mean the one the Queen called a jewel of British letters?"
"My teacher made us memorise his essays—every day! He's here?!"
"Which House will he be?"
"Ravenclaw, surely. Writers galore out of the Claws—Gilderoy Lockhart is a Ravenclaw, and now they'll have another—"
At the faculty table, Dumbledore and McGonagall traded a bemused look. They hadn't expected a Muggle-raised first-year to stir such a fuss.
Theodore stepped forward, set the Hat on his head.
A dry, papery voice filled his skull.
"Well now—another first-year who arrives with a reputation. Let's see… complicated. Very complicated."
"Sharp mind. Astonishing uptake. But the students were calling you a man of letters? And Lockhart a man of letters as well?"
The Hat sounded openly sceptical.
"How odd. I don't sense either of you as literary prodigies. That boy should have a remarkable knack for Memory Charms—a cutting-edge scholar there, if he applies himself."
"Ah well. Everyone has their own destiny."
"As for you: your gifts would fit Ravenclaw, but your hunger for knowledge isn't the point of you. Ravenclaw wouldn't truly suit."
"You like people. You lift them up. That's very Hufflepuff. But Hufflepuffs are steady workers and plain-dealers. You, my dear boy, have… schemes. And I don't feel much 'toil' in you."
"That leaves Gryffindor and Slytherin. I know my answer, but one question first."
"If I put you in Slytherin, what would you do?"
Theodore smiled to himself. "Make friends. Lots of them. Turn enemies into fewer, friends into more."
"Any who'll meet me halfway are my friends. Those who won't and pick a fight—I'll take responsibility for their moral education: hang them up by their ankles and whack them three times a day until the attitude improves…"
"Sort me into Slytherin and I'll clean house. Root out the Dark Lord's lingering rot and give the wizarding world clear skies."
Silence. Then the Hat sighed.
"Too familiar. Far, far too familiar…"
"Your charm, your reach—the way you'd gather a House—it reminds me of a boy from years ago. He united Slytherin brilliantly… and then, alas."
"Given past experience, your friends Harry and Hermione quietly asked me to keep you together, and…"
"Mr Malfoy very firmly told me that if he shares a house with you, he'll simply die on the spot."
"For everyone's sake—"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry leapt up, clapping; Hermione let out a breath (and privately promised to buy the Hat a bottle of cleaner later). Theodore wore a small smile and stepped down.
The flickering System display brightened and held.
[Congratulations. You are now formally under the Chan (Yuanshi Tianzun).]
[System upgrade complete. Talent Fusion is now unlocked!]
◇ BONUS & SUPPORT ◇
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 10 reviews — drop a comment!
◇ 1 bonus chapter for every 100 Power Stones.
◇ Read 50 chapters ahead on P@treon → patreon.com/StrawHatStudios
Liked it? Add to library. Send some Power Stones.