I'm late to the party on this one, at least in "blog time". Or, social media time, however you want to think of it.
But then, another aspect of all this business is that there's the instantaneous internet, and the demand for the most immediate Pavlovian response.
And then there's the chance for those of us who move at a slightly different tempo to go back and find things to think and write about, sometimes well after the rest of the world has moved on to other things.
The endless now of scholarship, cheek by jowl with the endless now of the insatiable maw of the social digital world.
But I'm also probably way overthinking this, considering that the post in question was only put up November 20, 2017. It's not exactly like I'm digging up something from eons ago.
Any rate, Ozy at thing of things had one of those questions that twigged my funny bone. Mostly because, back in the neverwhen before the Potter fandom was satiated by the entire series being available to read, I spent quite a bit of time in the online fandom.
Mostly lurking, seldom commenting, but always enjoying the fandom's every expanding theorization about the series and where it was going. And of course, one of the essential elements of the Harry Potter fandom is the Sorting Hat.
Ozy's taken the path of assuming that the audience for this piece are pretty well going to, well, sort themselves to fit the premise automatically.
In fact, I'd wager a good portion of the audience sorted themselves without conscious thought. There was no need for it, we've already all done it before.
So, as a fellow scribbler, Ozy I salute you. The idea for the post construction is wonderful, and well done indeed.
You ask about a burned Ravenclaw's perspective. At this time, from what I can tell of the comments on your piece, there haven't been any responses from readers with a take on Ravenclaw that fits with my perspective.
For me at least, there are two sides of the coin. First, there's the more dangerous reaction: Why on earth am I putting any effort into revealing my logic for something, no one's paying attention to it anyway?
The other side of the coin, the redeeming part that, for me, took longer to see (I am not yet a Buddha) is that the people I engage with, my family and friends that I've chosen, and that I try and reach out to wherever they are, are autonomous.
They're going to do what they're going to do, of their own choices and for their own reasons. I need to trust that, even if they accidentally do something that hurts me, or that I have to clean up, or whatever, it's not on purpose, and they're always trying to do what they see as the right thing.
I can help, where I see it, but I have to accept that there's no reason for another adult, especially, to seek out my advice. They're adults, they don't need it. And for the kids, my daughter and nieces and nephews and the other kids that always turning up around here, well, I can make sure they don't get really hurt, as best I can, and I can pick my battles.