2009
"Edward Lupin."
The headmaster scanned the first-year students. No one moved.
He cleared his throat. "Edward Lupin."
"Oh, sorry!" A wiry lad with a shock of blue hair shot out of his seat and scrambled up to the platform. He honestly hadn't been "woolgathering," as his grandmother would have said. He was too nervous for his mind to wander. Everyone had always called him Teddy, so it had taken a moment to realize the name being called was his own. Grinning as ripples of half-suppressed laughter rippled through the Great Hall, he perched on the stool and the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. As the brim slipped over his eyes, blocking the crowd of faces from view, he almost jumped when he heard a quiet voice.
"Ah, Teddy Lupin. Where to put you? You've a strong sense of justice. Plenty of intelligence, perhaps too much for your own good. I see a spark of ambition beneath your indolence. Hmm . . . you could thrive in any of the four houses."
The boy felt a sudden rush of excitement. He was about to begin down any one of four roads, each of them with so many different paths to choose from, all criss-crossing here and there, but each one led through unique experiences to a unique destination. Rather than frighten him, the endless possibilities seemed like a most fantastic adventure.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
That'll work.
2011
"Victoire Weasley."
A small girl with wavy blonde hair shut her eyes tightly and took in a deep breath. She was the last one of two dozen first-years to be sorted, and she'd sat through each student's turn feeling sicker with each one. When the Sorting Hat had recited its poem, she thought about what it said were each house's defining features, and she didn't think any of them quite fit her. She could be placed anywhere. Not knowing where terrified her.
As she clambered onto the stool in front of all of those pairs of eyes, she saw Teddy sitting at the Gryffindor table. He grinned at her, and she felt a little better. He had told her after dinner at her Uncle Harry's and Aunt Ginny's house just last week that he could have fit in any for the four houses. But the Sorting Hat had put him in Gryffindor, and he was happy there. She would have to trust it would know where she belonged too.
Then the Hat had blocked out all sight and she felt afraid again. After a brief moment of waiting with her breath held, the girl heard its loud voice booming through the Great Hall.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
But . . .but I'm not brave.
2013
"Dominque Weasley."
A girl climbed up to the platform as though the stool on which she was to sit were an executioner's block. Her soft brown eyes were opened wide so that she looked rather like a startled doe. There were what seemed thousands of people staring at her. Hoping she wouldn't throw up, she scanned the Gryffindor table until she found Victoire. Her sister smiled at her encouragingly, and Dominique held her gaze until the Hat blocked her from view. Once she could no longer see anyone, it was easy to pretend they weren't there, and her mind calmed enough for her to be curious about what was happening.
"Well, I already know where I think you belong," the Sorting Hat seemed to whisper in her ear. "The question now is, will you agree?"
You mean I have a say in where I go?
"You are many things, things that would perhaps surprise most people, that would surprise you. I see in you a Ravenclaw."
The girl tilted her head slightly to one side. Ravenclaw? But I'm not smart enough for them. I'm terrible at school, and I don't even like-
"You have a unique intelligence, one which will lead you to greatness if encouraged. Of course, with your loyalty, I could put you in Hufflepuff if you prefer . . ."
She would be lonely in Ravenclaw, she knew it. Everyone there would expect her to be as intelligent as she'd heard they all were, and when they found out she wasn't they'd want nothing to do with her. What did she care about greatness? She simply wanted to be left alone.
But wouldn't the Hat know better than she did?
Okay.
"RAVENCLAW!"
I hope I don't regret this.
"Molly Weasley."
Molly had fought back disdain for her cousin as she'd watched her be sorted. She knew she ought to feel more pity for Dominique, especially since she was feeling a little nervous herself. But she was too proud to show any fear. This ceremony was to be everyone's first impression of her, and she was determined to make it a good one.
"Intelligent, calculatingly so," the Sorting Hat mused. "But you don't like learning just for learning's sake, do you? No, you are an ambitious sort. Slytherin would've wanted you, if you weren't so tolerant of Muggle-borns. You've a drive to do great things, to make a name for yourself. Well, better be . . .
"RAVENCLAW!"
I can work with that.
2014
"James Potter."
A boy, strikingly similar to another who had been sorted twenty-three years prior, strode up to the stool on the platform. He glimpsed a flash of blue in the crowd of students, and grinned at Teddy, who still had a few splotches of pink among the blue of his hair. James had discovered much to his delight over the summer that apparently even Metamorphmagi couldn't do anything about the effects of Uncle George's potions.
The sixth-year had dinner with the Potters just three days ago, and when James had pestered him for information about the Sorting, he had simply said that the Sorting Hat knew what it was about and there was no shame in being placed in any of the houses. But as he put on the Sorting Hat, James thought about all the stories he'd heard his parents and Teddy and Victoire and his aunts and uncles tell of their time at Hogwarts. He couldn't help but hope that he'd be sorted into-
"GRYFFINDOR!"
This should be fun!
2015
"Fred Weasley."
A dark-haired first-year, his demeanor perhaps too serious for his eleven years, took a deep breath, then confidently stepped up to the platform. Curious, he examined the Sorting Hat before placing it on his head, hardly noticing the crowd in the Great Hall.
"I see you have no small love of learning-"
I hadn't thought of it that way.
"Learning is not limited to a classroom. You've a lot more curiosity than most, and you go to greater lengths than most to satisfy it."
So . . . Ravenclaw, then?
"You'd do well there. But I think perhaps you'd do better elsewhere.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
I wonder why?
"Lucy Weasley."
The last of the first-years, a girl who had as much trouble holding still as her bouncy brown curls, looked out at the crowd of students in the Great Hall as she stepped onto the platform. At the Gryffindor table sat Teddy, Victoire, James, and now Fred. Dominique and her sister Molly sat at the Ravenclaw table. As she pulled on the Sorting Hat, Lucy wondered excitedly which table she'd be joining in mere moments.
"Now, this is interesting. You've a strong sense of ethics, and courage to defend what's right. Boundless imagination." The girl held her breath as the Hat continued. "More than anything though, I see you value trust, and loyalty."
Lucy's mind raced. Wouldn't that mean that-
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
But I'll be the only one.
2017
"Scorpius Malfoy."
A fair-haired boy with a pointed face stepped to the platform with his head held high. He had no doubts about the Sorting; he had told anyone on the train who would listen that of course he'd be sorted into Slytherin. As the Hat was placed in his head, he felt almost bored, sure this would be a waste of time.
"Ah, here is one who is capable greatness. Ambition. Cunning. I see that you hold to the ideals of Salazar Slytherin."
The corners of Scorpius's mouth had barely begun to turn up when the Sorting Hat continued. "There is a thirst for knowledge as well, though, which I think will help you on your path to greatness more than any other quality."
No! I'm a Slytherin, I'm supposed to be in Slytherin!
"Slytherin, then? All right-"
For a brief moment, the boy felt relief that he would be put where he wanted. But then relief turned to confusion-was Slytherin really where he wanted to be placed? A sudden recklessness came over him and he found his thoughts shouting, Stop!
"Changed your mind, have you? Well, if you are quite certain this time, let's make you . . .
"RAVENCLAW!"
Wait till my father hears about this.
