Summary: There's this thing you feel, when you know something is about to change.

Everyone's about to be surprised. The Sorting Hat never knew mixing things up and putting people where their heart should really be versus where they want to go and where their family has gone before them would turn out so entertaining. He should do this more often. Notes:

For Before_i_sleep.

A requested fic, but one I was probably going to do anyway. Did you think it would get this in depth? No? Because I didn't, and I'm writing it, lmao.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

The Sorting Hat has been around for a very, very, very long time.

The result of this, is, of course, being very bored, and growing complacent. There was a time when he was a young hat that he would delve into the deepest parts of a person, use the magic he's been gifted by Rowena to see themselves, as they are and as they could be, if given the chance, and there was a time when The Sorting Hat truly enjoyed his existence.

But that was lifetimes ago. A thousand years is a long time for a sentient hat, is all he's saying, and so - yes, perhaps he's grown complacent. Nothing he ever did really seemed to change much, in the end - but, perhaps leaving the wizarding world with his worst work for so long would mean that now, if he were to do his job properly... something might be accomplished?

Oh, who's he kidding? The Sorting Hat had overheard Albus with his honeyed words talking about the Potter's child coming to Hogwarts this year; the very same boy that supposedly offed Tom a decade back.

Tom is still alive. The Hat knows this because Hogwarts knows this, and Hogwarts will never forget her children. Mother hen, that one.

Still. The Hat would, if he were human, think about blaming himself for not seeing the dangers of placing Slytherin's descendant into his ancestor's old house. But damn him, the Hat had gotten nostalgic.

(After all, he's Godric's hat first and foremost. And have you ever wondered why Godric's sword was silver when his colour is gold, and Salazar's locket was gold when his colour was silver?)

Regardless of all that, perhaps now is the time to snap out of his complacency. It will require some thinking and reasoning, but Rowena was always good at that, and the convincing people his choices will be for the best, well, that'll be Helga's job.

Thank the lord for them putting their personalities, their strengths, into him. He'd be a rather useless hat if they hadn't.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

Susan refused to be more nervous than was necessary. She wasn't last in the group, but she wasn't first, either, so that gave Susan a little room to breathe without too much time to worry.

This would all be fine. Susan wasn't certain which house to expect - perhaps Hufflepuff, Bones' tended to go there above all else - though it wasn't unheard of; to find a Ravenclaw or Gryffindor or Slytherin Bones - however, Susan didn't truly mind either way. Her aunt had raised her well, Susan knows - raised her to know of the good and the bad from all houses, to know that it isn't the group that is bad or good but the individual person - and Susan hopes that no matter where she goes, she won't grow to idolise her own house to the detriment of the others.

Still.

Hannah Abbot; Gryffindor - huh, though she'd have been Hufflepuff for sure -

On it went. Then, it was Susan's turn.

"Bones, Susan." Professor McGonagall calls out, and Susan strides forwards, head up and hands clenched.

She sits on the stool and places the hat firmly on her head.

"Hmm, a Bones I see. Your Aunt was an interesting one, I'd wager, raised by her, you're the same..."

Susan didn't respond. This was not up to her, after all.

"Usually I'd let you try and influence me. Apologies, Susan, but that is not the case today."

"A bright mind, a brave soul, a good heart. You'd do well in Gryffindor, but I've slacked on the Ravenclaw side as of late. I apologize for your housemates; a lot of them are closed-minded. Perhaps you might be able to help... or perhaps not. We shall see with time."

"Ravenclaw!" The hat calls out, and Susan removes it, moves over to her new table. There have been a few new Ravenclaws, though one - Hermione Granger - is focusing intently on the sorting, and so Susan should probably do the same. Regardless, she is intrigued as to see who might join her.

After her, Terrance Boot went to Gryffindor, which seemed apt from what she could tell of him due to their interaction on the train. More went past, some she recognized and some she did not.

Of course, there was one she was truly interested in seeing. However, a few surprises came beforehand.

A boy - Neville Longbottom; shy and sweet, from their one interaction on the train (he'd lost his toad), the boy went to Hufflepuff - like his mother had, Susan is aware - but had, unfortunately, forgotten to take off the hat and had to go give it to the following boy, MacDougal.

"Malfoy, Draco," Was called out, a few people later, and from her Aunt's stories of the boy, Susan predicted Slytherin, just like his father had been and his mother had been before him.

It was a bit more time than she expected before the hat shouted out its choice, and the Malfoy boy had been quickly getting pinker in his apparent anger and frustration.

"Hufflepuff!" The hat called out, and there was a kind of stillness. When Goyle had gone to Hufflepuff and Crabbe to Gryffindor, sure, it had been unexpected - mainly because the two had shown no signs of any kind of personality - but this, this was -

Wholly unprecedented. Susan isn't aware of any Hufflepuff Malfoys.

Still. Susan rather thinks the boy is overreacting, and McGonagall seems to agree, as she nudges the child in the shoulder as if to remind him to go to his table. Numbly, which is rather over the top, but still - Numbly, the boy removes the hat and goes over there, sits down and avoids looking at anyone in particular - especially the Slytherin table and the group he'd been standing amongst in the line, Susan could tell.

Anyway. Susan returns her attention to the sorting.

There are no more Ravenclaws for a bit - Parkinson goes to Gryffindor and very nearly throws a fit, A 'Padma Patil' goes to Hufflepuff and her twin, Parvati, goes to Slytherin - and then...

"Potter, Harry."

Susan's attention turned to the boy in question, as did the attention of the rest of the hall's occupants.

As he stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

"What, is he famous?" Fletchley mutters, frowning over at the boy. He's scrawnier than Susan expected, but the mess of black hair, green eyes, glasses, and that scar is exactly what her Aunt had said he'd look like, 'mark her words (he'll be the spitting image of his father').

"Yes," Granger frowns at him. "Did you not think to read up on this world's history?"

While those two bicker some more, Susan turns her attention back to the Potter boy. He - seems nervous, Susan analyses. Nervous, and unsure of himself. Susan expected more from their saviour, to be truthful, though perhaps she should not have. Susan doubts she'd be any different in his situation, after all.

Still. It's nice to know that he isn't full of himself, certainly. Susan's aunt had been wary of having to deal with an entitled child saviour, but that appears to not be the case.

It takes much, much longer than anyone else's turn. As time passes, the boy seems to get paler and paler - if that were possible; if Susan didn't know how people worked, she'd say he'd literally never seen the light of day. Meaning, the boy looks to have a severe deficiency in... whatever it is you get from sunlight that you need - under the hat, and it was so big on him that you couldn't see his face, so Susan couldn't claim to know what he was feeling, aside from perhaps nervousness.

"Slytherin." The hat - snaps. Susan blinks; she didn't know the hat could snap - that it could show any kind of emotion. It is, after all, just a hat.

Right?

The Room was silent. It was worse than with Malfoy's sorting - a Hufflepuff Malfoy was unheard of... but that wasn't a bad thing. Actually, her Aunt - for all of her supposed lack of judgment - would say it was a good thing, that it showed he wasn't like his father.

(Her Aunt had never exactly believed the whole 'imperious' thing, but they couldn't exactly prove it now. Too much time has passed, they wouldn't let the trials be reopened even at her Aunt's insistence.)

For a Potter to be in Slytherin - a family full of Gryffindors, with now a single Slytherin descendent...

Susan took pause. She wasn't the only one.

Potter stood, shaking slightly, and Susan immediately felt bad. He's - a kid, like her, like all of them, and so -

Susan claps. She's not a Slytherin, so she doubts it'll make them clap, but maybe -

Hermione follows with a look in her eyes that Susan can't quite understand. Hermione nudges Fletchly, and he starts clapping, and then there's this spattering of clapping from others across the hall.

Then there's clapping from the line -

It's a Weasley. A Weasley, clapping for a Slytherin sorting.

What.

Okay, so Susan tries her best not to judge, but this is decidedly strange.

More people start to clap after that. A kid from a light family, clapping for a kid from a light family that just so happens to be put into Slytherin.

Most people are still in shock - but apparently, this was what Potter had been looking for, Merlin knows why, and he seems less tense, less likely to just bolt from the room.

Potter goes to the table of his new house. The Patil girl, and the Brocklehurst girl - the only two Slytherins so far - smile at him in solidarity. Susan can't see if he smiles back.

After that, Susan pays some attention to the Weasley that clapped for a Slytherin. It's just - plain odd, and so sue her but she's intrigued.

Once its the boy's turn, he goes up, and Susan knows him to be -

"Ron Weasley,"

- and nods to herself (she was right) and waits.

The sorting takes less, far less time than it took for Harry Potter, and Susan - as well as everyone else, including his family - expects Gryffindor.

The room is silent when he stands, walks over to the table and sits next to Potter, who Susan can see from the side of his face is grinning.

A Weasley. In Slytherin.

The world's gone mad. Susan doesn't judge, or she hopes she doesn't, but that's not something you can't find horribly strange.

Her Aunt's going to find some surprises in Susan's letter, that's for sure.

But regardless, the sorting must continue. And so it does.

There's a few more, then Zabini goes to Ravenclaw and sits beside her. "Bones." He greets.

"Zabini," She responds. Politely. Susan's heard of his mother's ways, but perhaps Blaize is not like that.

Only perhaps, though. Only perhaps.

Dumbledore calls a staff meeting - not in the staff room, but in his office, which in and of itself is strange - and so the teachers go.

"What is it, Albus?" Minerva asks.

"I was about to start brewing." Severus doesn't lie. He was about to start brewing a potion to cure the headache he's gotten.

A Weasley. And a Potter. In his house.

Gah.

Dumbledore twinkles his eyes at them, smiles and nods to the seats. Irritably, Severus smoothly drops into one and looks over at the old wizard expectantly.

"Well?" He asks - demands, really - and ignores Minerva's disapproving look.

"The Hat wishes to talk to us all," The man says, and Severus sighs mentally.

"As I do," The Hat drawls in it's... strange... way, stares - as only a hat can - around at each of them in turn.

"I suppose you all have queries as to why I made the choices I did tonight? You full well know I cannot divulge anything I saw to anyone but the person themselves."

There is a pause, likely for dramatic effect. Severus needs a drink, some sleep, and a new job.

Treating the boy... civilly was not part of the deal.

"Because of this, I must ask you instead to ask yourselves; what is wrong, exactly, with the choices I made tonight?"

"You put a Malfoy in Hufflepuff," Severus sneers.

"Indeed." The hat says, agreeably. "The same place I rather should have put his mother; he's a lot more like her than you know, Severus Snape."

Snape pursed his lips. Sure. It's not like the boy embodies his father in every way possible, not at all.

"And the Parkinson girl? How do you think her family would react to a Gryffindor child?"

"Not a part of the decision process." The hat replied to Minerva. "I look into the child's soul and I see all that they are and all that they could be, and I sort them accordingly. I have, indeed, made mistakes. Placed a child where they should go, certainly, never once have I not done that - but I have recently placed them more accordingly to the environment and outside factors than the child themselves. Riddle, for example, should rather have been a Ravenclaw."

Albus suddenly looks grave. "That was fifty years ago."

"Yes," The hat sighed. "Indeed it was."

Albus seemed dimmer than before, the twinkle gone from his eyes.

"What are you trying to accomplish?"

"Fixing my mistakes." The hat says, and then the slit-for-a-mouth closes and the 'eyebrows' smooth out, and they will get no more from the hat than this.

"You may return to your duties," Albus says heavily, and the teachers disperse.

Severus really needs a drink.

Harry looks around the dungeon corridors as they go deeper, towards the Slytherin Common Room.

Not a witch or wizard that didn't go bad that wasn't in Slytherin. Or something like that. Regardless; Harry didn't want to be considered evil. He had enough of a negative opinion on himself back at the Dursley's, thank you very much. And also, being in the house of the person that killed his parents... Harry is quite honestly not happy with this situation.

At least some people don't seem to mind. A few Ravenclaws, from what he could tell. Ron, too, which had been a massive relief, and a couple of others from the rest of the houses.

They reach the entrance - a wall, it looks like, with a faint, faded etching of a snake. Harry swore he saw it move, but that couldn't be possible, could it?

Still. Harry looked closer -

"Yes, you see it, don't you?" The prefect, Gemma Fawley, asks rhetorically. "This is the entrance. There's a faint snake etched into the wall to help you find the place where you need to speak the password. This year's password is -" Here, the girl for a split-second wrinkles her nose in distaste before it's gone - "Purity. Shall we?"

At her words, the wall opened to reveal the common room.

The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling, from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and several Slytherins were silhouetted around it in carved chairs.

"Welcome to your home for the next seven years," Fawley says, nods to an upper year who greets her then turns back around to them. "The hallway down to the left is the boys' dorms, and the hallway over and up to the right is the girls' dorms. So long as your intentions aren't untoward, you can move freely between dorms regardless of gender. You don't want to find out what happens if your intentions are so."

Fawley looks at all of them in turn, a warning look on her face. "Understood?"

Ron and the rest of them nod and mumble agreements, and the prefect seems satisfied enough with this.

"Right, well, make yourselves at home, then. Potter, Weasley, I'll need to talk to you separately."

Patil and Brocklehurst nod and make their way over to the couches in front of the fire-place.

"Over here boys." Fawley gestures, and starts walking to the upper area of the common room.

Ron shares a look with Harry and then follows.

Once they arrive, Fawley purses her lips and frowns at them. "What did you say to the hat, huh?"

Harry blinks.

Ron feels a little awkward at the question, really, and glares because its none of her business, honestly, and she should shove off.

"Because," Fawley continues when she gets no response, "I'm guessing you didn't want Slytherin, what with how long it took the two of you."

Actually, Ron thought, You'd be wrong there.

"Sorry," Harry mumbles, hunches in on himself slightly. "I just-"

"Didn't want to go to the house of You-Know-Who?" Fawley says bluntly. "Because you know that's only claimed, right? We've no idea if he even went to Hogwarts; his name was French, you know. Not that anyone bothered to pronounce it without the t, but yeah."

Harry looks up at Fawley - a little hopeful. Ron's a little more cautious about believing that, but it could be true.

Bloody well unlikely, but if it makes Harry feel a bit better about this...

Fawley softens, ever so slightly. "Look." She says, quieter. "Slytherin isn't what everyone says it is. Sure, a lot of purists get in here, and sure, we've produced dark wizards. But every house has that chance; the ideology is just something that pervades Britain's elite, and for the latter, well, that's wholly on the individual and their family. Anyway - Slytherin's got Merlin. What other house can boast that, eh?"

Fawley smiles slightly at the both of them as if that was supposed to be - Ron doesn't know, but... the idea of being in the same house that the greatest wizard ever to exist was in...

It - means something. Surely, his brothers can't claim that.

"The point is," Fawly carries on, "You two, as much as I don't want to say this, should at the same time as accepting your house, becoming proud of it... be wary. There are people here from families that don't like either of you, and that's unfortunate but true. Luckily, for you, your year group is the smallest we've had in a while; four Slytherins. Which means you'll only be two to a dorm. But, at the same time, you'll be vulnerable to the older students. When out and about in the school, just - be careful. You won't have anything to worry about in here, of course, the wards and the runes and such prevent that, but out there..." Fawley shrugs. "I'd recommend caution. Not just from within our house, but from people who think you've gone dark. From people who will think you're evil because you're a snake. From people who just want easy targets, from people who want to boast that they won against Harry Potter. And you, Weasley, might want to be wary of your brothers. I don't know, and I don't claim to, but it might be that one or two of them aren't... happy with your sorting."

And with that, Fawley leaves.

"Do you think your family will mind?" Harry asks, and he seems worried. Worried.

"No," Ron shakes his head. "And even if someone does, mum and dad won't let them for too long."

Harry nods. "What did you say to the Hat, anyway? Yours was the longest." Ron asked, out of curiosity - the same that made him ask about Harry's scar, and everything else.

"...we argued for a bit about Slytherin." He shrugged. "The hat considered everything else and dismissed them for whatever reason. He wouldn't actually tell me why he was so focused on Slytherin, even though he knew why I didn't want to go there." Harry looked away.

"Guess it doesn't matter now." "Yeah," Ron muttered.

"And you?" Harry asked, and Ron - shrugged. He felt his ears burn, and they were probably bright red, but Ron lied anyway. "Nothing really," He said. "The hat argued with itself for a bit then sent me to Slytherin."

Harry nodded.

All I really said was that - well, I didn't think you should be alone.