The grimy, goat-legged, goat-horned figure, stooped and swarthy, hobbled into the Sorting Room. “I know you're here, Boss!” he bellowed. “You can't hide forever!”
"Is there an age limit to the children you punish?" the Hat asked. "Let's say that a thirty-five year old person was acting like a three-year-old with a tantrum. Would that count?" Not that the Hat honestly wanted anyone punished right now. But you couldn't blame it for being curious!
"You should get respect! You hit people! That's real power right there. Therefore, you should be in a fitting House." And with that, the Hat made its proclamation.
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