A/N - I think this is the most nervous I've ever been posting a fic. I'm really proud of it, so I hope you like it too. This is inspired by the Sorting scene in The Philosopher's Stone. One person's Sorting in particular.
Disclaimer: I may be a Ravenclaw, but I'm not clever enough to own Harry and his world.
The biggest risk the Sorting Hat could take was to put someone in Gryffindor. It was easy to tell if someone was clever, or cunning, or well-meaning. But bravery, true bravery, was hard to discern in an eleven year old child. It wasn't always difficult; on occasion it was as clear as glass when a child belonged to Godric's House. The young werewolf may have been clever, but he was strong as a lion despite his sickly frame. The Black boy had it too, that same bravery; to fight against that which was beyond his control, his very bloodline, and to follow his heart.
The third boy sorted into Gryffindor in 1971 was a Big Risk. The sort that came along once in a while just to make the Hat suffer. He wanted to be brave; he wanted to be like the Black boy and young Potter, standing at the front of the line behind them. It was there, the Hat could see it, the longing and the hope and just a little bit of desperation. There was potential, too. Perhaps he wasn't brilliant, not a leader of men, but there was certainly potential in Peter Pettigrew.
Ten years later it was the Hat who doubted Black's betrayal as it saw Dumbledore crumple in his chair, his head in his hands. It didn't make sense; that boy was a Gryffindor through and through. James would never have trusted anyone else, though. The number of times the Hat had seen the pair stand before the Headmaster, heads bowed but grinning secretly as each other, being reprimanded for some misdoing or other, was testimony to their unwavering friendship.
Sometimes, though, the other boy was there, Peter. He didn't smile as the Headmaster lectured them, didn't share in their secret triumph. But he was there. Might James have trusted him, too? It would have been obvious, the Hat thought, to make Sirius the Secret Keeper, and they were cleverer than that. Not clever enough, apparently.
Another twelve years passed before the Hat was proved right. Sirius was innocent. Peter was the traitor. The Hat's Big Risk had backfired spectacularly, and as far as enchanted clothing could feel shame, the Hat wallowed in it.
But there was hope yet, the Hat thought, because (oddly enough) his most recent Big Risk had accompanied James Potter's son. Perhaps that was why the decision felt so poignant. Harry himself had been difficult; he would have done well in Slytherin, but his abhorrence of the idea placed him firmly in Gryffindor House. No, the Big Risk that the Hat took in 1991 was another round faced boy, another boy who was keen to live up to others' glory. This time, though, it was for his parents, not his friends.
The Hat's first thought had been to place him in Hufflepuff, but the child was insistent. His Grandmother, he'd told it, would be so ashamed. He wanted, needed, to be in Gryffindor. He knew he could be brave. Somehow.
The Hat had been wary, though. Although the facts told it the last Big Risk had paid off – Pettigrew died like a hero – the Hat could not accept them. The Pettigrew Problem had stopped it taking risks for ten years, but the Hat had a feeling about this one.
So, when Hogwarts was burning and all hope seemed lost, The Sorting Hat was triumphant. The sword slid from its folds with ease as that once round-faced boy drew the weapon of his Founder. With a flash of silver, Riddle's last Horcrux was gone, even if the one who could kill him was gone too. When Hogwarts was burning, when all hope seemed lost, the Sorting Hat was triumphant because this risk, the Big Risk, had paid off.
A/N - I know I always beg for reviews, but Merlin will bless you for reviewing this.