Harry Potter walked into the Great Hall with a smirk on his face. As Ron chatted away about fighting a troll and that bushy haired girl blathered about the ceiling, Harry was going over his plan one more time. You see, Harry had wandered around the train earlier to find out more about the houses. What he heard had appalled him. What were these people thinking segregating children!? Really, whose bright idea was that? How could anyone's personality be set in stone at eleven years old? It was clearly an outdated practice that needed to be rectified.
With a start Harry realized that everyone was staring at him. Harry squared his shoulders, lifted his chin, strode confidently to the three-legged stool and sat down. The stern witch gently placed the hat on his head and Harry heard a voice.
Before the hat could say anything more than 'hmmm, what do we have here.' Harry interrupted. 'You don't have to go any further, I refuse to be sorted.' "What!?"The hat yelled aloud in shock. With a smirk on his face, which was unfortunately hidden by the overlarge hat, Harry repeated himself 'I refuse to be sorted.' Flummoxed the hat tried reasoning with Harry for several minutes. Sadly, for the hat, Harry had an argument for everything the hat tried.
Finally the hat audibly sighed and tiredly turned to the headmaster, "I cannot sort this child."
At these words everyone in the Great Hall burst into horrified whispers.