I'm not satisfied with the ending. This may be taken down and replaced.
And it rambles a bit in the middle.
Don't own HP.
"Just boost me up a little bit more!"
"I'm already standing on my tippytoes-"
"A little higher-"
"Hurry up!"
"Higher!"
"I can't go any higher-"
"Got it!"
With a triumphant yell, a boy dropped to the ground, his prize clutched aloft in his hand. It wasn't much to look at. A disheveled old hat. Rips and tears pockmarked the surface of the hat, lending the feeling of a face made of stitching on the front. It was black, and rather dusty, and the boy blew on it hastily, sending swirls of dust into the air.
"Hurry up, Justin, before Professor Dumbledore comes back," the boy's companion warned, sneaking a glance to the door. She was blond and petite, with blue eyes and dimples.
"One sec, Jane," the boy replied, opening the hat. "I'll be just one second-"
And he plunged the hat on his head.
Darkness engulfed him. The boy couldn't see much beyond a tiny sliver of light that shone down from a tear in the dusty material of the Hat. Inexplicably, its inside appeared to be larger than its outside; Justin looked around, seeing a big black void, although his body was telling him he was firmly planted on the ground in Dumbledore's office. He cast one arm about wildly; when nothing hit, he assumed he'd missed Jane. He decided to take a step when a large sound accosted him.
BOY.
The deep, gravelly voice echoed and boomed around him, rattling his bones. Instinctively, he looked around for the source of the noise, but saw nothing. After a bit, he realized this was the voice he'd heard in his head a few months ago at his Sorting Ceremony. The Hat had decided he belonged in Hufflepuff.
JUSTIN PINCHLOCK, OF 54 WINDSOR LANE, LONDON.
HUFFLEPUFF.
"Who…who said that?" Justin asked timidly, his voice cracking.
YOU ARE NOT JUSTIN WINDSOR OF 54 PINCHLOCK LANE, LONDON, HUFFLEPUFF?
"Um…yes, sir, I am, but I had a question?" He finally squeaked. "Um, I was wondering why the Hat…I mean, you, put in me in Hufflepuff? My whole family's been in Gryffindor, and it's like, weird for me to not be…they wanted me to continue the tradition, and so I wanted to know if I could change to Gryffindor…"
THERE IS NO CHANGE. YOU ARE A HUFFLEPUFF, the voice replied from everywhere and nowhere, shaking Justin again.
"But-!" Justin began as the voice interrupted him.
THERE IS NO CHANGE. YOU ARE A HUFFLEPUFF.
Hufflepuff, a smaller voice chanted at the end.
Justin started and stared around again. This new voice was soft, feminine. A flute's lilting strains compared to the bold brassy entrance of the first voice.
You are a Hufflepuff…I like Hufflepuff, the second voice told Justin. Hufflepuff: hard work, loyalty, tolerance and fair play. Stable. Unmoving. Like the earth.
"But, but…I wanna be a Gryffindor," Justin whined, "and have a cool adventure and go out in a blaze of glory; pew pew! Like an American Western!"
Gryffindor, a third voice intoned, courage, daring, nerve and chivalry. Flighty and passionate. Like a flame.
Justin stood still for a minute, dropping his fingerguns. He looked around the void, seeing nothing but that sliver of light shining inexplicably through the rip at the top. He decided he'd had enough, and looked around for the way to exit. He knew that to get out, he must pull the hat off his head. He put his hands up, half expecting it to be there…but it wasn't.
"Excuse me," Justin asked the dark void, "but how do I get out?"
HUFFLEPUFF, the first voice declared.
I like Hufflepuff, the second voice returned.
Honesty and hard work, the third voice intoned.
Yes, like the earth, a fourth voice, sinister and sly, piped up, stable and unmoving.
"Um…okay?" Justin asked. "I get it. No switching. Can I go now?"
GO? The first voice asked hesitantly. THERE ARE FOUR. HUFFLEPUFF, RAVENCLAW, SLYTHERIN, GRYFFINDOR.
They represent the Founders' principles and desired traits.
Whoever comes to Hogwarts is put into one of four Houses:
Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Slytherin.
Justin froze for a very long moment. Something wasn't right here. There were four voices in his head, or in the void around him, and they seemed to be obsessed with Hogwarts. He really wished he could just take the hat off and leave, but nowhere did there seem to be any visible exit. He tried to reach up and touch the light from the rip, but his arm fell flat.
"Um, this is kinda weird, now…"
He shuffled his feet back and forth.
I DECIDE WHERE TO PUT YOU. YOUR HOUSE IS YOUR LIFE. YOU DO EVERYTHING TOGETHER. IT BECOMES YOUR FAMILY.
Their philosophy becomes yours.
Their traits become yours.
Every part of you becomes one with the others, in a cooperative whole. One, two, three, four. Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor.
Each cannot survive without the other. They are four-in-one and one-in-four.
Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff.
YOU ARE A HUFFLEPUFF.
"…this is really freaking me out," Justin replied. "Maybe this was a bad idea."
You aren't known for your brightness, dear. Honesty. Hard work. Stable. Unmoving.
I saw it in your mind. You are suited for them.
"…but you made a mistake!" Justin yelled. "I'm not a Hufflepuff. I wanna be in Gryffindor!"
BOY! I HAVE BEEN SORTING WITCHES AND WIZARDS OF EVERY AGE FOR A THOUSAND YEARS. I CAN SEE INSIDE YOU. I CAN SEE YOUR HOPES AND FEARS AND DREAMS AND WISHES. DO NOT PRESUME TO TELL ME WHAT I CAN AND CANNOT DO. I AM THE SORTING HAT!
The first voice thundered loudly, and Justin bent to his knees, clutching his head in agony. As he peered into the black void, images and sounds began to swirl around him, wispy like smoke. Memories. Memories of all the things the Sorting Hat had retained in all those years of Sorting students.
Justin stopped for a second, completely entranced, to look at the way the void was changing around him. Pictures and sounds and colors swirled about him. At first, they looked ancient, blurry, but then they sharpened up and swished past him. Justin saw beautiful people casting spells and people hunting other people atop broomsticks and it was all a beautiful, wonderful, swirl of lights and sounds.
"Wonderful, isn't it?" A voice spoke up beside him. Justin jumped three feet into the air, somehow remaining upright instead of falling. He glanced to his right and saw Dumbledore standing there, wand in the air.
The wisps of memory came up from the bottom of the void, surrounding them. As soon as they appeared, they disappeared again, off and up around Dumbledore's wand. Justin watched curiously as each memory laughed or cried or screamed or shouted; an endless parade of human emotions.
"Yes, sir?" He asked the Headmaster cautiously.
The old man turned to him, beckoning him forward in the familiar gesture of Side-Along-Apparition. He smiled as Justin nervously took his arm. "I like seeing you take such an interest in history," he said, and then suddenly Justin felt himself being wrenched about the middle and the swirls of color and sound disappeared.
When he was aware of his surroundings again, Justin found himself on the floor of the Headmaster's office, gasping for breath. He fought off the urge to be sick and looked up at Jane, who was staring back at him with a mix of reproach, fear and utter curiosity. Without preamble, she hit him about the head, then gathered him in a hug and began sobbing profusely.
"Miss Flivverfeather, if you wouldn't mind, I'd like a word with Mr. Pinchlock," Dumbledore said kindly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. He snapped his fingers, and a house-elf appeared from nowhere with a loud crack. "Lolly, take Miss Flivverfeather down the kitchens for a nice cup of tea."
The house-elf bowed and murmured assent quietly, and then Jane stood up and followed the creature out of the office. When reaching the door, she cast a glance back at him, apprehension dawning in her eyes, before disappearing. The Headmaster gestured to the desk, and Justin sat obediently in the chair provided.
"You're no doubt wondering why I kept you," Dumbledore said without preamble, sitting behind his desk, "but rest assured, you're not in trouble."
Justin kicked his feet back and forth, wide eyes staring at the wizened wizard. Dumbledore was glancing about his office, drinking in the sights of the slumbering Headmasters and all the whirring little machines on tables and cabinets.
"I should warn you, though," the man continued, "that the Sorting Hat is one of our most valuable and precious artifacts from the very beginning of the school. It's not something to be taken lightly, Mr. Pinchlock," Dumbledore chided gently.
"Yes, sir," Justin mumbled. "But I just wanted to know…"
Dumbledore smiled. "Curiosity, while not unworthy, is not a trait worth dying over. Now, would you like a Licorice Wand? You're late for supper."
Justin shook his head furiously. "No, thank you," he told the Headmaster. "If it's alright, could I just go back to my room now?"
Dumbledore nodded graciously before pointing at the door. Justin scooted off the seat and scurried out of the office without another word, presumably off to tell Jane what had happened throughout the episode.
The headmaster swept his piercing gaze to the hat lying docilely on the floor. If one listened closely, the voices could still be heard, like a beat of the jungle drums in the distance; echoing in their chorus…
He placed the hat back inside of its cabinet. "That's quite enough from you," he muttered.