I am Harry Potter's Cousin, Big D

"Hermione, do you know exactly how we're sorted into our houses?"

The moment Professor McGonagall finished her instructions and swept from the room, Harry couldn't wait to ask. He felt a gnawing sense of inadequacy. He didn't have Dudley's preternatural talent for self-teaching Potions, nor was he like Hermione, who, through sheer force of will, had already taught herself several simple spells. He wasn't like Ron and Neville, who had grown up surrounded by magic. Up until now, besides skimming a few books, he didn't know a single spell.

Unfortunately, the girl who seemed to know everything disappointed him. Hermione shook her head, a hint of frustration in her voice. "I don't know. I've checked dozens of books, and they all just briefly mention that Hogwarts has a Sorting Ceremony. None of them record in detail what the ceremony actually is; they just gloss over it."

Harry's hopeful gaze turned to Neville and Ron.

"My Gran wouldn't tell me," Neville said, his face drawn and pale with anxiety. He looked even more nervous than Harry. "I think I might not pass. A few years ago, everyone in my family thought I might be a Squib."

"It's got to be some kind of test," Ron offered, trying to sound nonchalant, though his own nervousness was palpable. "Fred said it's very painful, but I think he was joking."

"Don't worry, Harry," Dudley's calm voice cut through the anxious chatter. He patted his cousin's shoulder reassuringly. "If we don't pass, we'll just go to Smeltings Academy together."

Hearing this, Harry's eyes lit up, and the knot of anxiety in his stomach instantly loosened. As long as he could study with Dudley, where they went didn't really matter, did it?

As they were talking, a group of pale, translucent figures drifted through the stone wall, scaring the other first-years into a series of sharp, terrified screams. Ghosts. Dudley felt a flicker of intense curiosity—he desperately wanted to study their composition, to understand the principles of their existence—but it was clearly not the right time.

Professor McGonagall had returned. "Now," she commanded, "form a single line and follow me."

The splendor of the Hogwarts Great Hall was, Dudley had to admit, a little shocking. Tens of thousands of candles floated in mid-air, their light flickering warmly, and above them, the ceiling was a perfect, star-dusted replica of the night sky. The candles, he deduced, must be enchanted to never burn out; otherwise, the cost would be astronomical. Magic is so convenient, he sighed internally.

In the center of the hall, on a four-legged stool, sat a pointed wizard's hat. It was black, greasy, and covered in patches. The Sorting Hat. A wide tear in the brim opened like a mouth, and it began to sing.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin,

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means,

To achieve their ends.

Dudley noted the obvious bias. The first three houses were described with a string of positive adjectives, with Gryffindor receiving the most praise. Slytherin, on the other hand, was blatantly mocked. He wasn't particularly interested in why the Hat held such a grudge; he was more curious about which house he would be sorted into and whether the ancient artifact could read his secrets.

Given his pitifully low magical talent, he assumed he'd be sorted into Hufflepuff, which in the wizarding world seemed to be a byword for mediocrity. However, given his academic prowess, there was a small chance he could end up in Ravenclaw.

Ding. A familiar, pleasant notification sounded in his mind.

Quest: Join any house at Hogwarts. Reward is dependent on the specific house.

Interesting, he thought. The rewards are different.

At the same time, Professor McGonagall unrolled a long scroll of parchment. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A girl with blonde pigtails stumbled forward. After a tense ten seconds, the Hat declared "HUFFLEPUFF!" and the title of 'Hatstall' was decided.

One name after another was called. Ron and Neville were both sorted into Gryffindor. Malfoy, as expected, went to Slytherin.

"Where do you want to go, Hermione?" Dudley asked.

"Gryffindor or Ravenclaw," she replied, her expression conflicted. "Ravenclaw has its own library, and the study atmosphere is excellent. But Headmaster Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall were both in Gryffindor, and so many famous wizards graduated from there." She looked at him. "What about you, Dudley?"

"Any house is fine," he said with a shrug. He was almost certain he would be a Hufflepuff. He was already contemplating the logistics of sneaking out for a late-night snack; the Hufflepuff common room was, after all, closest to the kitchens.

When Hermione's name was called, she practically ran to the stool. The Hat had barely touched her head before it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Being smart and studious, it seemed, was not synonymous with being a Ravenclaw.

Soon, only Harry and Dudley were left.

"Potter, Harry!"

"Don't be nervous, Harry," Dudley whispered as his cousin walked past. "No matter which house we're sorted into, we'll always be brothers."

After a long, tense moment, the Hat's clear voice rang out: "GRYFFINDOR!"

"We've got Potter! We've got Potter!"

The Gryffindor table erupted. The cheers and applause were deafening as everyone danced with excitement. In contrast, the other three houses looked distinctly downcast. Dudley even saw Malfoy at the Slytherin table muttering something under his breath, his face a mask of fury.

As a result, when Dudley's name was finally called, almost no one noticed him except for Harry and Hermione. Everyone's attention was still fixed on the Boy Who Lived.

The Sorting Hat was gently placed on Dudley's head. He felt a slightly surprised voice echo in his mind.

"Oh~~~~" The syllable was elongated, dragged out for a long, curious moment.

"Are you... really a wizard?"

(End of Chapter)

***

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