Vision
A conversation between the Sorting Hat and Quirrell when Quirrell first arrives at Hogwarts.
I felt the brim of the Sorting Hat slip down over my eyes, mercifully blocking out the intimidating mass of the great hall.
Quirinus Quirrell, what a curious, supple mind you have, murmured the strangely creaky, resonant voice, which would make you at home in Ravenclaw certainly. But such a need to prove your worth to the others that underestimate you. It paused. And quite the desire to be strong enough…enough for what, young Quirinus? That ambition tastes of Slytherin, while Gryffindor could help you develop strength.
I swallowed, trembling slightly. "I just hate being called stupid," I mumbled. "I'm not stupid, I know I'm not. I can see magic. I just don't know how to tell anyone else about it. And I can't seem to do much of it…"
You see things differently, in ways few others can. It can be a great gift, especially to one who seeks new knowledge. Hmmm, but it seems to have come at a price…
I felt a sudden prickling, as if deft fingers were plucking through my brain.
Yes…your ability to see as you do has stymied some of the more typical pathways. But there's nothing here that can't be changed, not yet.
I waited, barely breathing.
So I ask you this: Which do you want more – the ability to see what others cannot or the ability to be as good as everyone else at the usual things?
I swallowed. As good? Not better?
As good. Strong enough.
My heart pounded, as I whispered, "No. I want to see."
Approval radiated from the Hat as its voice rang out like a bell. "Ravenclaw!"