"I am an enchanted object, boy, not a person. I can't use magic beyond what I was enchanted with."

"Huh," he said again, sounding displeased. "There's a book I want to show you, but that's not going to work if you can't read it."

"Again, I was imbued with the intelligence of the founders, including minute knowledge of most of the library."

"It's a muggle book," Amicus replied. He had noticed a skull nearby and was staring at it thoughtfully.

"I don't know what I could expect to learn from muggles," I said.

"You'll be surprised," Amicus said. "My father especially, who is a child development research psychologist."

"I literally don't know what you're talking about."

"And therein lies the problem. What do you do all day? If I had thought about it, I would have assumed you were either asleep or doing some sort of research. It appears I was wrong on both counts."

I didn't much feel like telling him, truth be told, and luckily didn't have to, because at about that time Headmaster Dippet arrived. A similar argument ensued which ended with Amicus in detention again, and by the time he left the office I was almost convinced that, unlikely as it was, I had made a terrible sorting mistake.

Amicus began to get in trouble much more often after that, and I began to notice a pattern. It seemed that the instant Headmaster Dippet disapparated on business, Amicus would mouth-off to a teacher or play a silly disruptive prank, and end up in the office with me again. I began to expect and even look forward to it.

"I've come with an article from Nature," he might say, or "where did we leave off?" as he retrieved a book from his satchel.

And to my surprise, I did have a lot to learn from muggles. Do you know they study the workings of the mind? And not just the effect of magic upon it, but how it operates normally, and what can cause it to turn. I approached the next sorting with an enthusiasm I had not seen in quite some time. Clever though the muggles are, they do not have the gift of legilimency, which is where I specialize.

Amicus also frequently argued for the scientific method, and though I counter-argued, one question wormed its way into my head and wouldn't leave me alone: how do we know what we know? For instance, I had always known that the sorting was important, and that it was the best thing for the students. Now, I was beginning to grow unsure. Amicus strongly believed that the act of sorting students caused them to act certain ways, not the reverse. "Tell a child that he is bad," Amicus would say, "and he will believe you." I didn't buy the argument, but I didn't have a great counter-argument.

So, I decided to experiment.

During the next sorting, I was placed on the head of a boy from a well-known Slytherin family. Even at eleven, I could immediately tell he was the perfect Slytherin. He was proud, ambitious, cunning... maybe a little cruel. The intelligence of Salazar demanded him.

"Ravenclaw," I squeaked out.

There was a stir. Within the boy's head, horror surfaced, followed by doubt and...

...and what was this? Curiosity?

It had never occurred to him that he might be something other than a Slytherin. And then, he started having the most fascinating thoughts.

Well, I am smart, aren't I? he thought. I stick to things I've started. I get good grades. I'm a good reader...

Oh, my god. Was Amicus right?

I sorted the next several normally, until I hit one who should have been an easy call for Griffindor.

"Hufflepuff!" I called out.

Well, the girl thought, I'm not scared of hard work.

What was happening?

There ended up being eight I sorted into "wrong" houses. I picked eight that very obviously belonged to a single house, and put them into another: and as soon as I called out their false house, they children began to justify it!

"I don't like it," I said to Amicus later. "It makes me doubt myself."

"Good," he said. He had gotten a skull from Filtch, and was turning it over in his lap as we spoke, studying it. "But of course, the experiment has only just begun. We'll need to follow the students throughout the year and see how they act. Now tell me; how does one construct a limited arcane intelligence?"

Amicus was right... at least mostly. The boy I had sorted into Ravenclaw wasn't the smartest, but he got top marks in all his classes. I heart from Dippet (who was quite confused as to why I was suddenly taking such a keen interest in the students) that he gained a reputation for staying up late to study, getting up early to work, and generally outperforming the other Ravenclaws for whom academic work came much more easily. He had confided in Dippet that he would like to be head boy, and was working his way towards it.

So, still ambitious, but also quite academic. Interesting.

It was much the same with the others. The Griffindor-to-Hufflepuff would approach the most unsavory task with unstoppable determination, blowing through work that even the other Hufflepuffs hesitated at. A Hufflepuff-to-Slytherin became surprisingly shrewd, and gathered around her the most actively ambitious of her housemates, creating a clique that was known for its efficiency and consistency. At eleven!

"What are you doing?" Dippet asked, looking up from his desk.

"Reading," I replied. I was perched atop the skull, with a book open on its spine nearby. Turn, I thought to the skull, and a page drifted up and over as though caught by a delicate breeze.

"You... didn't used to have a skull, did you?"

"No," I replied. "Mr. Tosser made it for me."

"Oh, did he?" Dippet said mildly. "Do you... enjoy spending time with Amicus?"

"I rather think I do," I replied. Life had definitely grown more interesting with him around, I had to admit.

"Well, I suppose that's a puzzle solved, then," Dippet muttered. He thereafter arranged time for Amicus to come and visit that wouldn't interfere with his studies, and our visits became more regular.

At the next sorting, I did about half of the students randomly. At the sorting after that, I randomized them all. And at the sorting after that, I began to sort students into houses based on what I felt the house needed, not what it wanted. Hufflepuffs were incredibly useful, I found, as they could temper the more extreme ideals of the other houses, especially Slytherin and Ravenclaw. Griffindors were useful in Slytherin, as they would encourage the True Slytherins to live their lives authentically, and many of the Slytherins began to break with their unsavory family traditions. Ravenclaws were useful in Hufflepuff, as the Hufflepuffs could sometimes have a tendency not to innovate (which I admit, I related to). And Slytherins, I found to my surprise, did well in every single house...

Except Slytherin.

Headmaster Dumbledore was the last traditionalist in the office. He was a good man and a powerful wizard, but we butted heads often. He really didn't like having a hat-driven skeleton walking around in his office either, but I was quite unwilling to give up my autonomy, so he eventually assigned me a classroom of my own. He also counter-productively tried to play-up the traditional house differences, but there was little he could do. After all, I am the sorting hat.

Oh, Tom?

Yes, he's a boy I sorted into Ravenclaw the third sorting after meeting Amicus. He spent time as a prefect, where he was generally regarded as tough but fair. Taught defense against the dark arts for a few years, fell in love with a muggle girl, got married, had a surprising number of little witches and wizards. We occasionally have him in as a guest lecturer, though nowadays he mostly prefers spending time with his grandkids.

Why do you ask?

I’m interested to see where Riddle comes into this. Continue.

Please continue!

I'm invested, please continue!

Very invested!

[removed]

[removed]