HP: I AM SHERLOCK HOLMES

Meanwhile, Professor McGonagall continued to preside over the ongoing Sorting ceremony, but her mind remained partially occupied by the young wizard who had just joined Gryffindor House.

She hadn’t anticipated that this remarkable boy who had already impressed her even before setting foot in Hogwarts would prove to be, like herself many decades ago, a true Hatstall.

The term ”Hatstall” itself carried both formal weight and gentle humor within Hogwarts tradition. Officially defined as any sorting requiring more than five minutes, it indicated students whose personality traits and potential suited several different Hogwarts Houses. Such individuals appeared perhaps once in a generation, making their presence at the school both notable and memorable.

Most students who approached Hatstall status—like young Granger fell just short of the five-minute threshold, their sorting taking three or four minutes while the Hat weighed competing aspects of their character.

True Hatstalls were rarer, representing perhaps one student every few decades.

McGonagall’s own memories of her first night at Hogwarts remained vivid despite the passage of nearly fifty years. She could still recall the rising tension as the Sorting Hat deliberated over her fate for five and a half minutes. The Hat had wavered mainly between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw,

Ultimately, it had chosen Gryffindor, though even today she occasionally wondered if Ravenclaw might have suited her equally well.

This feeling had grown particularly strong during her years as Head of Gryffindor House, when dealing with generation after generation of impulsive, reckless students who seemed determined to test every rule and boundary the school had.

Sometimes, in her most exasperated moments, she fantasized about the peaceful scholarly atmosphere of Ravenclaw Tower.

Yet throughout all these years, whenever she had questioned the decision in casual conversation, the Sorting Hat had maintained its original assessment with unwavering confidence. ”Gryffindor was absolutely correct for you, Minerva,” it would say during their occasional interactions.

Counting the years made her feel old, nearly half a century since her own sorting. She had almost forgotten those memories, until tonight’s events with Sherlock Holmes and Hermione Granger had torn them open.

Her gaze drifted unconsciously toward the staff table, where Professor Flitwick sat observing the ceremony with his typical enthusiasm. She knew that his own sorting had been similar as well, though the Hat had ultimately made the opposite choice from her own case, placing him in Ravenclaw.

Over the years, this parallel experience had become a source of gentle humor between them two. They would sometimes speculate, during quiet moments between classes or over evening tea, about how different their lives might have been if the Hat had chosen differently.

Perhaps a more decisive young McGonagall would have found herself in Ravenclaw blue, while a more hesitant Flitwick might have worn Gryffindor scarlet. The thought of McGonagall as Ravenclaw’s Head of House, surrounded by bookish scholars instead of adventurous troublemakers, never failed to amuse them both.

As if sensing her observation, Professor Flitwick caught her eye across the Great Hall and gave her a knowing smile. Clearly, tonight’s Hatstalls had stirred his own memories of their experience as students.

McGonagall returned her attention to the Gryffindor table, where she could see Sherlock talking Percy Weasley. Whatever the boy was saying seemed to be causing Percy considerable discomfort, judging by the prefect’s increasingly flustered expression and reddening ears.

Percy was indeed somewhat embarrassed. Because after Sherlock heard his explanation of Hatstall, he bluntly said:

”That sounds basically similar to what your brothers said. Their explanation was actually easier to understand.”

The simple words had struck Percy a blow. Here he was, a fifth-year prefect who had spent considerable time crafting the perfect educational response, only to be told that his irresponsible twin brothers had communicated the same concept more effectively in half the time.

’Could this new student speak more tactfully

I am a prefect!!

”HAHAHAHA!” The twins’ laughter rang out with particular glee, drawing attention from nearby students and causing Percy’s face to cycle through several shades of red.

”Brilliant!” Fred declared, clapping Sherlock on the shoulder with genuine admiration. ”Absolutely brilliant!”

”You’re definitely our kind of person, Holmes,” George added with an identical grin. ”Stick with us and we’ll make sure you become legendary throughout Hogwarts!”

”Together, we could pull off pranks that would be remembered for decades!” they said in unison, their eyes sparkling with mischief.

Sherlock looked at them with the same expression he might use when observing particularly energetic puppies. Without gracing their recruitment attempts with a response, he turned his attention back to the ongoing Sorting ceremony, clearly finding the systematic process more intellectually engaging than the twins’ rebellious enthusiasm.

The ceremony continued with several more students whose sortings approached the threshold of Hatstall. Most noteworthy was Neville Longbottom, the round-faced boy who had provided earlier entertainment by losing and dramatically recovering his toad during the train journey.

He tripped while running to the stool, then sat nervously for nearly five minutes before being announced for Gryffindor.

The Gryffindor table erupted in welcoming cheers, but Neville’s relief was so overwhelming that he forgot to remove the Hat and ran off to his new House table while still wearing it.

The Great Hall exploded in genuine laughter. Even the professors smiled as Neville realized his error halfway across the floor. He had to perform an awkward turnaround and trot back to Professor McGonagall.

The contrast with the next sorting could not have been more dramatic.

When ”Draco Malfoy” was called, the platinum-haired boy approached the stool with the confident swagger of someone who had never doubted his destiny. The Sorting Hat had barely made contact with his hair before announcing: ”SLYTHERIN!”

’So quick and decisive.’

Watching Malfoy swagger to Slytherin to rejoin his cronies Crabbe and Goyle, Sherlock showed a thoughtful expression.

’Interesting, The Hat’s decision-making process appears to follow predictable patterns based on character clarity.’

From his perspective, the evening’s sortings were revealing fascinating data about the Hat’s method.

Students like himself and Hermione represented complex cases requiring long consideration, while like Malfoy, those who fit so clearly into predetermined categories their decision was instantaneous.

Neville fell somewhere between these extremes—complicated enough to require significant consideration, but not truly ambiguous in terms of basic character.

Most other students followed the pattern established by Hannah Abbott at the ceremony’s beginning: sorted within thirty to forty-five seconds, with occasional cases extending to two or three minutes for students who possessed notable but not overwhelming traits from multiple Houses.

The distribution followed classic statistical patterns—few cases at either extreme, with the vast majority clustering around the median sorting time. From a scientific standpoint, it demonstrated that truly exceptional individuals were statistical outliers, while most people possessed relatively straightforward personality that aligned clearly with one particular House’s values.

The ceremony continued under Professor McGonagall’s guidance, each name called, each new student welcomed to their House with appropriate celebration. The rhythm had become almost hypnotic—name, walk, hat, House, applause, repeat...until she called out a name:

”Harry Potter!”

The Great Hall, which had been maintaining a background murmur of conversation during the routine sortings, fell into absolute silence. Every head turned toward the small group of remaining first-years, hundreds of pairs of eyes were searching for the most famous young wizard in the world.

When Harry stepped forward from the reduced line of unsorted students, the silence shattered into an explosion of whispered exclamations and gasps of recognition. The temperature in the hall seemed to drop several degrees as the collective intake of breath created a shift in the atmosphere.

”Potter—did she really say Potter?”

”Is that actually Harry Potter? The Harry Potter?”

”Look! You can see the scar if you squint hard enough!”

”Don’t be ridiculous—nobody could see that clearly from this distance...”

”But it has to be him! Who else would cause this kind of reaction?”

The excited whispers rolled through the students like waves, creating a buzz of anticipation unlike anything the evening had yet produced. Even students who had been paying minimal attention to the ceremony suddenly focused intently on the small, dark-haired boy making his way toward the Sorting Stool.

The Weasley twins, naturally unable to resist immediately turned their attention to Sherlock with expressions of keen interest.

”Holmes,” George said with excitement, ”we heard you became quite friendly with Potter during the train journey?”

Fred leaned closer: ”Since you know him well, Which House do you think the Sorting Hat will choose for him?”

For once, Percy made no attempt to stop his brothers’ questioning. He was clearly as curious as everyone else about the Boy Who Lived’s coming sorting, and Sherlock’s perspective as Harry’s new friend made his opinion particularly valuable.

”The Hat will take quite a long time,” Sherlock answered without hesitation. ”But the final result will definitely be Gryffindor.”

His certainty type of tone caught everyone off guard. The twins exchanged glances of surprise, while Hermione leaned forward with obvious curiosity.

”Why are you so confident?” She asked.

”Yes, what makes you so certain?” The twins spoke in unison.

Their conversation had attracted attention from nearby Gryffindors, who moved closer to hear Sherlock’s reasoning.

If Harry Potter really came to Gryffindor, it would definitely be wonderful news—but they wanted to understand the basis for such a bold prediction made before the Hat had even touched the famous boy’s head.

What made Sherlock confident enough to make this judgment before the sorting?

Of course, it was based on personal experience with the Sorting Hat’s decision-making process, though he chose to share only the essential conclusion rather than revealing the full depth of his reasoning.

”The Hat shows some respect for personal preference when a student possesses qualities suitable for multiple Houses,” He explained. ”Based on my observations of Harry’s character and preferences, he could theoretically be placed in Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Slytherin, with the latter two being slightly more probable due to specific personality traits.”

He paused, allowing his audience to absorb this assessment before delivering the crucial detail: ”However, Harry himself doesn’t want to go to Slytherin House. Given that the Hat considers student preference as a significant factor in marginal cases, the logical conclusion is Gryffindor.”

The surrounding Gryffindors exchanged uncertain glances. Sherlock’s reasoning sounded plausible in theory, but it seemed remarkably confident given the limited evidence available to an eleven-year-old who had known Harry for less than a full day.

The twins, never ones to accept simple explanations without probing deeper, tried to probe for more detailed reasons. However, Sherlock’s expression clearly said that he had considered the discussion was closed.

Seeing his attitude, everyone could only give up.

They would simply have to wait and see whether this new student’s prediction would be accurate or whether he had made a spectacularly overconfident miscalculation in front of dozens of witnesses.