A/N: This was supposed to be an entry for a writing contest, but I missed the deadline by about 2 months. However, I decided that it shouldn't go to waste, so I have published it here for your enjoyment. I'm not sure how many of these are around, but please R&R anyway. Thanks!
Disclaimer: Everything you recognize belongs to The Genius (JK Rowling). Everything you don't recognize belongs to The Humble Servant (me).
Minerva McGonnagal looked around the Great Hall and sighed. For the first time, she thought, the students emanated no more than a slight whispering. At least she wouldn't have a hard time silencing them. During the opening feast, it had always taken awhile to make it quiet enough to begin, even when Dumbledore… the Headmistress sighed again. Without the comforting thought of Dumbledore's protection, many concerned parents had withdrawn their children from the school, and as a result, the tables were half as crowded as they had been in the previous years. In fact, it had taken an immense amount of persuasion, and in some cases, bribery, to coax the school board into even keeping the school open. Luckily, they had eventually caved, though the Headmistress was beginning to wish they hadn't. To be here without him, it hurt so much... The staff table now had the addition of a clueless young Potions teacher in place of Severus Snape, smiling in a way that made McGonnagal sick to her stomach. Please don't make me do a speech… please let the Sorting Hat begin, she prayed. She had noticed before that it had been looking even more worn out than ever, as if the thousands of years were finally catching up to it. As if it heard her thoughts, the ancient, battered hat appeared as it always had in the front of the hall. This was all that was needed to silence the voices, and without any announcement whatsoever, the Sorting Hat began to sing.
"Students, teachers, new and old,
For years the Sorting Hat has told,
Of my creation, mainly me,
And how Hogwarts came to be.
But this year is not like before,
This shan't be a song of ancient lore,
If you must know that, read a book,
It's time to take a closer look."
McGonnagal rose from her slouched position, as did many other teachers. She looked at the Sorting Hat, it's flap curved in what looked strangely like a smile—McGonnagal had forgotten what those had looked like. What was the hat playing at? For as long as she could remember, it had told a story. This seemed different, somehow. She listened carefully as the hat continued.
"Chaos rules the current space,
Danger waits at every place.
Loyalties vary, even in this room,
And a beloved man rests in a white tomb."
Many eyes teared up at that pronouncement. Eyes glanced to the window, from which Dumbledore's white tomb was clearly visible, a constant reminder of the horrible betrayal. There was a loud HONK as the still-employed Hagrid blew his nose.
"But a certain someone, whom you can see,
Must take charge and follow his destiny.
Out of seven, three are gone,
Three more, and then the final one.
A soul split into seven parts,
From the end of seven beating hearts.
A prophecy made years ago,
Of which the darkness does not know.
What will end this twisted tale?
Will our hero prosper, or will he fail?
Will he end the monster's reign?
Or will he leave the world in pain?
I wish I could tell you, but I do not know.
Prophecies are far below,
Plain and simple hats like me,
Though I can tell you what I see.
To triumph, our hero must find love,
He must seek help from those above,
He must make decisions by himself,
He must remain human, above all else."
McGonnagal glanced at Harry Potter, whom she noticed had remained silent and dry-eyed. His face was set, and he looked slightly haunted and tired, but strong and willing to do all he could. We have a chance. McGonnagal thought, the revelation slowly dawning on her. We have a chance.
"With that said, I must now ask,
You to do for me my task,
First years, YOU must choose your house,
Any fear you must now douse."
All occupants of the hall looked at each other, completely dumbfounded. Whispering began and spread like a wave throughout the room, until the combined noise became a low roar. A quick glance at the Sorting hat revealed that he was not joking in any way.
The first years stared at each other in fear, until after brief discussion, two small boys stepped forward together to join the Gryffindor table. The applause was at first slightly hesitant, yet grew in strength and exuberance until all the hall was clapping and cheering, and all the first years had taken their seats at their selected tables. The headmistress smiled, thinking that that was the kind of bravery needed in this terrible war. Cheers continued for a brief while, and then fizzled out as everyone waited for what would happen next. The Sorting Hat's flap twitched, and it spoke:
"Good job, for though I've never said,
The voice you hear comes from your own head.
I'm just helping it to be heard,
To put your spirit into words.
And now, you have learned to choose your road,
It truly is a heavy load,
But you are all strong, so it's not a chore,
I don't believe you need me anymore.
Don't worry, I won't be fully gone,
I'll still be helping you along.
Just not so bold and obvious,
Our last goodbyes, from all of us."
The flap that was the hat's mouth closed, and it spoke no more.
At once there was the loud and incoherent babbling usually heard after something extraordinary happens. "What was that?" "Did you see that?" "That was incredible!" Questions, opinions and exclamations of amazement rippled through the Great Hall like a tide. Minerva McGonnagal felt strangely dizzy, as her head spun to absorb what had happened. Yet her voice, clearer than all the others, managed to ring out above the clamor with an authority only she could provide—"Look!"
Out of the Sorting Hat rose a misty face, sly and cunning. It was a man, sharply handsome, with piercing gray eyes and smooth blond hair. The apparition smirked in a way that Harry found boundlessly annoying, but which the Slytherins were studying in awe. The face nodded proudly to the Great Hall, winked and smirked again to the Slytherins, and rose up to the starry ceiling.
Next came the face of a kind-looking, though somewhat plump, woman. Wisps of gray hair framed her face, showing honey brown eyes. She smiled at the multitudes of stares and open mouths, blew a few kisses with a soft hand, and gracefully floated out.
Another woman rose out of the hat, though this one had a more striking kind of beauty. Thick red hair framed her face, which had an elegant structure and high cheekbones. Piercing green eyes studied the students, her mouth in a thoughtful frown. As if giving her approval, she smiled and nodded to the hall, gave another sharp nod, and shot through the ceiling.
By this time the hordes of students had caught on to the meaning of the misty figures, and the tension was high over the Gryffindor table. The other houses had relaxed; they all knew there would be a brave and handsome man, as was always portrayed in the portraits of the four founders. However, they still maintained a respectful silence as the final figure rose out of the hat.
There was a collective gasp as a figure rose out of the Sorting Hat, not handsome by the usual definition, but slightly haggard and worn. Short black hair lay over a face, with eyes that were haunted and resigned; yet… willing. Ready. The headmistress realized that this was the look identical to the eyes of Harry Potter, knowing there were difficult times ahead, yet also knowing he could handle them, that he would do all he could. She looked at this man, the epitome of courage, and realized that this was what the eyes of Dumbledore were like, the eyes of the first two first years, and the eyes of all the Order of the Phoenix. These were the eyes of true bravery. Minerva McGonnagal looked on in awe as those eyes crinkled into a smile at those below, and knew that she would dedicate the entire remainder of her life to become like this man who silently faded through the ceiling.
This time there was no babbling, only noiseless wonder. The hall's occupants paid no attention at all as the delicious food appeared on their plates, it's aromas wafting through the air. They only stared at the hat, all deep in thought, all deeply changed. There was yet another gasp as the hat twitched and puffed out a silvery, misty version of the Hogwarts coat of arms.
And with the remainder of its spirit departed, a plain, worn old hat soundlessly crumbled into dust.
A/N: Hope you liked it! Whether you did or didn't, please review and tell me what you think. Constructive criticism is very appreciated.