Alidus Faren runs a beautiful bookstore three doors down from Flourish and Blotts in Diagon Alley. The shop specializes in advanced treatises on Arithmancy, collected volumes of Transfiguration theory, rare astronomical charts, and first editions of magical history that most wizards have never heard of. The kind of books that make a Ravenclaw’s pulse quicken.
For years, Alidus kept his shop welcoming to everyone. He never wanted to turn anyone away. Traffic from all four houses felt like success. Gryffindors wandered in looking for adventure stories. Hufflepuffs browsed the herbology shelf hoping for something practical. Slytherins asked if he carried anything on advanced defensive magic or political strategy.
He helped them all. He made recommendations. He pointed them toward titles they might enjoy. And his shop was always full.
But he noticed something troubling. The aisles stayed crowded, but the best books never moved. The Arithmancy treatises gathered dust. The astronomical charts sat in their careful bins, untouched. And sometimes, through the window, he would catch a glimpse of someone outside, peering in at the crowded shop, then walking on.
He wondered if those people, the ones who never came in, might have been Ravenclaws. The ones who would have bought the books nobody else wanted. The ones who would have asked the questions he actually wanted to answer.
One autumn, after the Hogwarts term had started and the Sorting Hat had finished its annual work, Alidus had an idea. He sent an owl to Professor McGonagall. Could he borrow the Sorting Hat for the rest of the year? Just to try something?
McGonagall, intrigued, agreed.
Alidus placed the Hat on a stand near the entrance to his shop. Not blocking the door, but visible. And he added a small sign: “Let the Hat help you find what you’re truly looking for.”
The first week was uncomfortable. Gryffindors put on the Hat, heard “Better served by tales of valor down the street,” and left looking slightly offended. Hufflepuffs were gently redirected to shops with more practical offerings. Slytherins were pointed toward rare volumes on strategy and power in Knockturn Alley.
His shop emptied out. Traffic dropped by three-quarters.
But something else happened.
The Ravenclaws who had been walking past, seeing the crowds and assuming the shop was not for them, now came inside. They put on the Hat. They heard “Ah, yes, welcome. You’ll find what you’re looking for in the Transfiguration section.” And they did.
They bought the Arithmancy treatises. They asked about the astronomical charts. They spent an hour discussing a footnote in a magical history text that Alidus had been waiting years for someone to notice. They returned the following week with questions. They brought friends, other Ravenclaws, who had also been walking past for years.
The shop was quieter now, but the conversations were longer. The sales were fewer, but larger. And Alidus realized he was no longer spending his days answering questions he had no passion for, recommending books he did not care about, or managing a crowd that was never going to buy what he actually wanted to sell.
The Sorting Hat had not changed his inventory. It had not changed his expertise. It had simply made visible what had always been true: his shop was for Ravenclaws. Pretending otherwise had not served anyone. It had only delayed the moment when the right people found him.
At the end of the year, he returned the Hat to McGonagall with thanks.
He would be back to get it again next week, assuming Professor Dumbledore still approved.
Your Real Voice Is Your Sorting Hat
You do not need to borrow a magical artifact to sort your clients. You already own the most powerful sorting mechanism available: your real voice.
When you write the way you actually think, when you use the language that comes naturally to you, when you stop trying to appeal to everyone, you create the same effect Alidus created with the Sorting Hat. You make it easy for the wrong people to leave and easier for the right people to recognize that your shop is for them.
Most consultants operate like Alidus did before he borrowed the Hat. They keep their messaging broad because traffic from all four houses feels like success. They soften their language to avoid turning anyone away. They describe their work in terms that could apply to anyone.
And their shops stay crowded with people who will never buy what they are actually selling.
The problem is not that neutral language fails to attract attention. The problem is that it attracts everyone equally, which means it filters no one. You get inquiries from people who need something you do not offer. You spend time answering questions you have no interest in. You watch the people who would actually value your work walk past, assuming you are not for them because your window looks like every other window on the street.
Your real voice is the sign that says “Let me help you find what you are truly looking for.” It is specific. It is narrow. It sounds like one house talking to people from the same house. And yes, it will cause three-quarters of your traffic to leave.
That is not a failure. That is the Hat working.
When someone reads your writing and recognizes their own way of thinking, friction disappears. The questions get sharper. The conversations get longer. The sales take less time because you are no longer explaining why your Arithmancy treatise might also appeal to someone looking for Quidditch stories. You are talking to people who want Arithmancy treatises.
The great wizards understood this. Dan Kennedy built his career on the willingness to offend three houses in order to serve one well. Seth Godin has said for years that your smallest viable audience is the one that actually cares. Broad appeal does not build trust. House loyalty builds trust.
Alidus learned this the moment he put the Sorting Hat by his door. Traffic is not the goal. Right traffic is the goal. And the only way to get right traffic is to make it easy for wrong traffic to sort itself out.
When you avoid using your real voice, you pay twice. Once in time spent serving clients who should have gone to a different shop. Again in positioning that never sharpens because your market never knows which house you actually represent.
Your real voice is not the thing that limits you. Your real voice is the thing that makes the right work possible.
Stop trying to welcome all four houses. Pick yours. Write like you belong there. Let the wrong people walk past.
The Hat never apologizes for its choices. Neither should you.
