Minerva McGonagall
The Sorting Hat had not felt more relaxed since he rested on Gryffindor's head. He was wide awake. This generation was the easiest he'd seen in centuries. Everyone was easy; they were either smart or stupid; brave or cowardly; cunning or fair; loyal or traitorous; noble or evil. No one was smart, brave, cunning, fair, and loyal, with a dash of nobleness and a sprinkling of evil. Everyone was plain. It had been a great day.
"McGonagall, Minerva!"
A tall, thin, already stern looking eleven year old witch in plain black robes and an extremely pointy hat marched up to the Hat, who felt slightly scared. Never had he seen such an prideful, confident young woman. He had an odd feeling, in the corner of his velvety fabric, that this would be an exception to the easy people of this generation.
Hello, hat.
Hello, young lady. Now look here, I'm used to easy people today, so if you have a particular house you'd like to be in, just name it.
Oh no, I couldn't. You have to sort me. You're the Sorting Hat.
You seem very bossy and straightforward.
You could say that.
But you are also smart, I can tell that, oh yes. Ravenclaw would be good for you.
Yes, perhaps. I am told of my cleverness.
Hahaaaho! Tsk tsk tsk, something of a braggart? Perhaps Slytherin would fit.
Maybe..
I heard the doubt. Hufflepuff?
Uhm..no thank you, hat.
All right, you're brave and chivalrous and noble and loyal and kind, so if not Hufflepuff, better be..
"GRYFFINDOR!"
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