Here is something that I learned the hard way: do not get a millennial Harry Potter fan’s Hogwarts House wrong. And if you’re going to get a millennial Harry Potter fan’s Hogwarts House wrong, you definitely don’t want to do it on a stage in front of hundreds of people.
Some of you may know that in my mid-twenties I spent roughly two years touring around the United States hosting the sorting ceremony for Pottercon, an unauthorized adult Harry Potter fan convention that was eventually shut down by the WB. Like the Goblet of Fire, we burned bright and we burned strong, but only for a limited time. Because this was 2015 and a certain Author Who Must Not Be Named had not yet revealed herself to be a transphobic asshole, this was literally a dream job for me. I got to travel, I made money, and I got to indulge wholeheartedly in my love for a children’s series about a young boy at wizard school, which I was sure at the time would never become complicated in any way.
But there was a dark side to this job, and like most jobs, that dark side was other people. For many millennial Harry Potter fans, your Hogwarts house is an intrinsic part of your identity. It’s not just about who you are, it’s about what you want other people to know about who you are. If you’re a Gryffindor (which I am), you want the world to know that you see yourself as a main character (which I am). If you’re a Ravenclaw, you want the world to know that you see yourself as a smarty-pants who is too good for all of this. If you’re a Slytherin, you want everyone to know that you’re alt kid aligned with the forces of darkness. And if you’re in Hufflepuff you want everyone to know that you’re a nice underdog who probably has a really good cookie recipe floating around. When someone gets your house right, it means that they have seen you the way you want to be seen. But when someone gets your house wrong it means not only that they have not seen you, but also that you failed to properly project this core part of your identity to the world. For some millennials, the pain of that moment is too much to bear and they lash out. And because I was the sorting hat, they lashed out at me.
The way the Pottercon sorting worked was pretty simple. Those who wanted to participate formed a line at the stage and one by one they would come up and sit on a stool and we would engage in some light Potter-related banter. I would then place the sorting hat on their head and ask them a series of questions from a cauldron, usually of the “Fuck, Marry, Kill” variety. Once they answered three questions, I would poll the audience as to what house they belonged in, declare the answer, and send them off stage. It was a simple process, but it could go horribly wrong.
Let me say first and foremost that I was a very good sorting hat. I am not here to crush dreams, so much like the real sorting hat if you give me a clear indicator as to which house you do or do not want to be sorted into, I will oblige. Like, if a gal comes up on stage in head-to-toe Hufflepuff gear and answers my little questions, I’ll sort her into Hufflepuff. Also, as anyone who has ever taken a sorting hat online quiz can attest, it is very easy to signal which Hogwarts house you want to be in simply by how you answer the questions. Like, if you come up on stage and act super evil, I can usually deduce that you would like to be in Slytherin. It’s not hard.
And yet, at least once per sorting ceremony, someone would come on stage and give me nothing. I’d scan their outfit for a hint as to which house they wanted, but apart from an “Always” flash tattoo, would find nothing to lead me in the right direction. Then I’d ask my questions and get a series of blasé non-answers that told me nothing about them other than that being on stage isn’t really their thing. I’d poll the audience, which was typically mixed, and then make my declaration - usually Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw because I’ve noticed a high proportion of HP fans sort themselves into these two houses.
And then I’d see it…a deep rage welling from within this previously soft-spoken nerd’s broken heart. I had gotten their house wrong. They were unseen - humiliated, even! - as a result of my mistake, and now an entire audience of people they had never met and would never see again was under the impression that they were smart, not ambitious. The pain was too much for them to bear. They had to act. They had to curse me out on stage in front of hundreds of people.
When I tell you that this happened at least once in every city that we toured, I mean it. Never in my life have I been told “fuck you” as much as when I was a sorting hat. I once sorted a girl into Gryffindor who actually identified as a Hufflepuff and she looked me into my eyes and said, “You literally just ruined this whole fucking thing for me,” and stormed off stage. All I could think was, I thought Hufflepuffs were supposed to be nice?
The interesting thing about all of this is that at the same time as I was working for Pottercon I was also teaching a class to children at the Y called “Harry Potter’s World”* which also involved a sorting ceremony. Never once in my years sorting children did I deal with a single tantrum. If a kid got sorted into a house they didn’t want, they would laugh, perform disappointment for the audience, and then go join their friends at the big table to eat candy. Kids are fundamentally unserious and able to recognize when they are in an unserious situation. If you tell them that they’re a badger even though they want to be a snake, they’ll be like “okay” and move on.
It’s almost as if children were Harry Potter’s target audience or something.
xoxo
besitos,
alise
If you want to hear more stories from my time on the road with Pottercon, tickets are still available for my solo show THE GIRL WHO LIVED 10/21 at 3pm at Under St. Marks Theater and 10/25 at 9:45pm at Under St. Marks Theater. You can purchase them here.
***important notes***
* Also unauthorized. I’m realizing now that I’ve siphoned money from JK Rowling’s IP on many occasions, and in that way I am kind of a hero.
***promos and plugs***
Tickets are also still available for The Roast of Your Teenage Self in New York Comedy Fest! 11/11 at 9:30pm at Littlefield! They’ve been steadily selling all month and I imagine it’ll pick up closer to the show so if you’re planning to come get them now before they’re gone! Tickets here.