A Professor's thoughts as the first years are sorted, really short one-shot. I'm not sure which Professor it is, you can pick whoever you want it to be.

Disclaimer: All the great J.K Rowling's. Worship her. She's cool.

They walk through the doors, quiet as ever, around half of their faces lit up in awe. I can tell they're terrified. We all can. You can see it in their eyes; hear it in their breath.

They are so different from everyone seated watching them. They cling to each other and shiver, but always notably relax when they find out all they have to do is put on a daft old hat that spends all of it's time finding words to rhyme with Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin.

It's always the same. The purebloods strut up to the filthy old hat, completely unfazed by all the magic surrounding them. I must say, the one's of wizarding blood aren't that interesting to watch. The muggle-borns on the other hand - it never ceases to amaze me of how interested, flabbergasted and terrified they are of everything. The smallest, most simple bit of magic has them entranced.

They jump when they hear the voice in their ears, telling them things, secret things about themselves. They think we can hear it too, but we can't. I sometimes wonder if we could hear the hat's analyses whether we would treat some of them differently. Whether anything could be changed, prevented. Maybe not knowing is for the best. We would lock some of them in rooms out of sheer paranoia if we thought it might help.

These children, they will be made between these walls, they will be broken between these walls. They will grow between these walls and these walls, in return, will shield them. Seven years will pass and they'll remember and laugh at how terrified they were this day. They shouldn't laugh, for this was the day they were doomed to be a part of this world and a part of this war. They will grow to be great. Or to be foul.

The last child moves off the stool and joins her house.

I find myself wondering; how can they be prepared for what they've gotten themselves into, how can they fight for something they haven't even experienced?

We are the past, these kids, they are the future.

How can this be so, when they have been so carefully wrapped in cotton wool?

~End~

It's drabbley… and I don't think it makes sense but feedback would be greatly appreciated.


9/3/04