Written by: Powowpyon

Disclaimer: I obviously don't own Harry Potter.

Summary: "Sometimes, he wonders if he made the right choice all these years ago, and he wonders if the entire lives of some students would have been different. Then the Sorting Hat sighs, and remembers." [OS]

A/N: This is so, so short, goddammit ! There really is something wrong with the length of my fics. -_-"

Anyway, I hope I didn't butcher the vocabulary or syntaxes too much, because, well, I'm French, not English.


In All Shapes and Colors

❝ Give me the most admirable and pure action,

and I will provide in all likelihood fifty wicked motives.

God knows, to whom wants to hear them,

what diversity of visions suffers our inner will ! ❞

— Michel Eyquem de Montaigne.


Blue and yellow and green and red and black and silver and orange.

He saw them again and again, year after year.

The Sorting Hat speaks to himself. After all, no one ever talks to him except during the Sorting Ceremony, or when the headmaster is bored, from times to times. He's used to it. He's the Sorting Hat, after all. And he's got a lot of time to think, thanks to this. Sometimes, he wonders if he made the right choice all these years ago, and he wonders if the entire lives of some students would have been different. He wonders if they would have been better.

Then the Sorting Hat sighs, and remembers.


September, 1892 — Eric Switch, the transfiguration professor, calls "Dumbledore, Albus". He calls a second time, then a third. Nothing happened.

"Coming, coming !", exclaims loudly a boy, making his way through the crowd of first years. Wearing a grin from ear to ear, his hair untidy, he heads for the stool and the professor pins him with a stern stare before placing the Sorting Hat on his head. Then the Sorting Hat sees. The choice with this one will not be very difficult, but it will nevertheless be one of the most interesting, the Hat decides. He searches through the boy's mind, and finds a thirst for knowledge, true, cunning, indeed, but the boy emanates vigor and power, not likeability or eagerness to work or solidarity. He is very interesting, indeed, and the Sorting Hat has made up his mind.

"GRYFFINDOR !"


September, 1938 — He is placed on the head of a boy, one "Riddle, Tom". The boy is gripping the stool and his heart is beating fast, but he manages to maintain a calm appearance and the Sorting Hat begins musing. He looks into his heart, his soul, his memory and his very being. Courage and chivalry have no place here. He will not be a Gryffindor. The Hat keeps looking and discovers painful memories, of shame, humiliation and loneliness, and some others, more violent, of revenge and hatred and longing. The boy is eager to prove his worth. The Sorting Hat feels a real intellect in the boy's mind, and considers Ravenclaw. This boy has no team spirit, he wouldn't belong in HufflePuff, where unity and loyalty reign. But there are charm and wits, power, deep inside his mind, and the Sorting Hat has made up his mind.

"SLYTHERIN !"


September, 1991 — Harry James Potter heads towards Professor McGonagall, towards the Sorting Hat, and the whole Great Hall holds its breath. The Sorting Hat falls on his eyes, blocking his sight. Finally, the famous Harry Potter. The Sorting Hat begins browsing through his mind. He feels courage, a lot of courage, and intellectual qualities. He also feels impatience, the eagerness of showing everything he's able of. The Sorting Hat is uncertain about where to sort the boy. "Not Slytherin, not Slytherin", he hears the boy whisper, and the Sorting Hat accepts, and the Sorting Hat has made up his mind.

"GRYFFINDOR !"


The Hat remembers, and then smiles, creasing his patched fabric, and he tells himself that no, after all.

He had done what was asked of him. And he had been right.


September, 2016 — The Sorting Hat smiles again as he is placed on Albus Severus Potter's head. Then the Hat muses. He is about to sort the boy, and he feels like he is forever sealing by this act the dark times of the last century. The boy shudders, and the Sorting Hat has made up his mind.

"SLYTHERIN !"


Blue and yellow and green and red and black and silver and orange.

He saw them again and again, year after year.