At Hogwarts with Academic Master System

[Note: Read up to Chapter - 93 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]

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"Go on then, guess — which house do you reckon he'll be sorted into?"

At the Gryffindor table, Percy Weasley was eagerly discussing Aris's Sorting with a few of his housemates.

"Who knows? Why are you so bothered about that bloke anyway?"

"Don't you know? He's the last heir of the Shafiq family!"

"The Shafiq family? Never heard of 'em — are they meant to be important?"

Percy gasped, genuinely appalled. "Merlin's beard — you don't even know the Shafiq family?!"

After a short, unimpressed pause, Percy quickly realised there was no point carrying on with this lot.

Honestly, do none of them read the Daily Prophet?

Even the most clueless witch or wizard should've heard of the Shafiqs by now.

They were once one of the most prominent wizarding families — one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, no less!

"You Gryffindors are hopeless sometimes," came a smug voice from behind — someone from the Slytherin table, clearly full of themselves.

"Shafiq's bound for Slytherin. He's pure-blood, through and through. Only a true Slytherin is worthy of that sort of pedigree."

"Rubbish," Percy shot back, scowling. "Who said all pure-bloods go to Slytherin?"

Truth be told, Percy was really hoping Aris would join Gryffindor.

The Shafiq name carried weight — wealth, prestige, history. And Percy understood befriending someone like Aris could do wonders for his career after Hogwarts.

"He's definitely Gryffindor material!"

"Get real — he's a Slytherin, through and through!"

"Maybe he just fancies Hufflepuff's midnight snacks?"

"Don't be daft — I heard he's a right swot. Top of his class already!"

"In that case, he's sure to be a Ravenclaw!"

Whispers turned to excited chatter as guesses bounced around the hall.

The entire auditorium buzzed with speculation — and the murmuring even reached the professors' table at the front.

"Quiet!"

Professor McGonagall's voice rang out sharply, cutting through the rising din.

"Aris, please step forward and put on the Sorting Hat."

The boy strode calmly to the front, sat down on the stool, and felt the battered old hat placed on his head.

A moment later, a voice echoed in his mind.

"Well now… very gifted, highly intelligent… and clever too, no doubt about that."

"You're ambitious, sharp, and strategic — but also kind-hearted, and with a quiet sort of courage most wouldn't even notice."

"Hm… I daresay, aside from Hufflepuff, any of the other three Houses would suit you rather well."

"What? Are you saying I'm not loyal or honest?" Aris protested silently.

"Oh, I didn't say that," the Sorting Hat replied patiently. "You've got both, certainly — but they're not your defining traits, not compared to the others."

"So… where should I put you?" it mused, seemingly to itself.

While Aris was deep in mental conversation with the hat, the Great Hall gradually quieted down.

Whispers gave way to curious silence as more students turned their attention to the boy sitting on the stool.

Only Harry Potter had taken this long before — and now, it was Aris.

To many watching, that alone said he must be someone exceptional.

Meanwhile, Aris continued to probe the Sorting Hat.

"So, you sort people based on their most prominent traits?"

"That's right," the hat answered. "It's not about where you want to go, necessarily — it's about where you'll thrive best."

Aris frowned in thought. A part of him had always been curious: did the Sorting Hat possess a truly independent consciousness? Or was it simply some relic running on pre-set magical criteria?

According to what he knew, the four founders had merely imbued the hat with fragments of their thoughts and memories.

Surely that wasn't enough to create sentience?

By that logic, the Sorting Hat was nothing more than a magical diagnostic tool — a clever bit of enchantment combining Legilimency with personality profiling.

Really, it behaved like a sophisticated magical algorithm, only dressed up to seem intelligent, able to carry on simple chats with the student in question under specific conditions.

"Not at all," the Sorting Hat replied, as if it had sensed Aris's thoughts. "I've always believed that placing a young witch or wizard where they'll grow best is the wisest choice."

"Is that so?" Aris said coolly. "Then why not place Gryffindors in Ravenclaw? Don't brave folk need a bit of brain as well?"

"Of course bravery needs brains — but Gryffindor values courage above all, and that's their most treasured quality—"

"So why not send Slytherins to Ravenclaw?" Aris cut in again, tone calm but insistent. "Surely ambition needs intellect to flourish? What good's ambition if you haven't the mind to match it?"

"Well, yes, quite… it's just… Slytherin and Ravenclaw prize different things. Each House has its own merits, its own focus—"

"Right, so I must've misheard. Didn't someone just say that students should be placed in whichever House suits their development best? Bit of a contradiction, don't you think?"

At that, the Sorting Hat fell silent.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Aris asked in a low voice, a faint smirk playing at his lips.

"Nothing else to say? Then go on — assign me a House already."

By now, Aris was fairly certain: this hat wasn't fully sentient. Just a cleverly enchanted sorting mechanism dressed up as a wise old relic.

Still, this contraption had been imbued with selective consciousness and layered enchantments, allowing it to peer into a young wizard's thoughts.

That's why, during sorting, it seemed to respond in various ways to the fleeting thoughts bouncing about inside each student's head.

It didn't truly know them, not deeply — but it could read enough of the surface-level impressions to suss out a rough picture of their personality and toss them into the appropriate house.

Put bluntly, it was a bit like one of those Muggle psychology quizzes. You answer a few pre-set questions, and it chucks you into a tidy little category.

Except here, the Sorting Hat didn't need you to tick boxes — it did the ticking itself, all while resting on your noggin.

And granted, this method could lead to the odd misjudgement now and then — but really, what kind of complex inner world does your average eleven-year-old have?

For most students, a quick skim of their surface thoughts was plenty to place them fairly.

But Aris… well, he wasn't most students.

The moment he started nudging the process — consciously directing his thoughts, shaping the conversation — the hat clearly began to struggle.

Its judgement wavered, uncertain.

And unless the student made the call themselves, it seemed the sorting could go on indefinitely.

"Oh, fine," Aris thought, weary now. "Just put me in Ravenclaw."

The entire back-and-forth had been nothing more than a battle of wills inside his own head.

He'd focused his intent deliberately, knowing full well how to steer the Sorting Hat toward his decision.

The hat, sensing this with relief, wasted no time.

"If you're sure… then let it be…"

"RAVENCLAW!"

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Drop power Powerstonessssssssss!

[Note: Read up to Chapter - 93 on P patron at: p-atreon.com/Knockturn_Alley]