Disclaimer: Harry Potter will never belong to me. I can only wish.
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Right now was not the time to worry about what the Hat had said, however. Because Lord Voldemort had stood up from his seat elegantly, his eyes flashing red for a split second. "Minerva, what is the meaning of this?" he inquired softly.
To Harry's surprise, McGonagall recovered extraordinarily quickly, gaining her collectedness in a matter of seconds.
"What do you mean, My Lord?" the Professor asked coolly.
"I think you know very well what I mean, Minerva," the Dark Lord said calmly.
Harry saw the Gryffindor Head of House stiffen.
"I don't," McGonagall countered rigidly, standing her ground like the lioness she was. "Perhaps you'd like to inform me, My Lord?"
"As you wish, Minerva," Voldemort said, smiling in a friendly way. "Let's just put it bluntly… did you ever hear of this song anytime before tonight?"
Harry looked at McGonagall, then at Voldemort, and then back to the House Head.
There was an intense sort of light shining in both their eyes.
"Forgive me, My Lord, but I'm afraid you'll have to elaborate. I still do not understand what you mean."
The silence in the Great Hall was suffocating. There was not even the sound of a chair shifting. All the students were staring, wide-eyed, at the pair of them.
"I do not see how I can put more clarity into this," the Dark Lord sighed. "Drop the confused act, Minerva, it doesn't flatter you."
Harry suddenly found himself feeling the same worry for the Professor's safety as he felt back in Diagon Alley for Mr Ollivander...
Along the staff table, Professor Snape was rigid, on his face a casual expression that did not suit his strained-looking eyes or his clenched fists.
He looked from McGonagall to his master, his facial muscles growing tauter and tauter as she continued verbally sparring with the Dark Lord, showing no signs of meekness, or backing down.
"I'm confused, Mr Lord," Professor McGonagall ditched her hard tone and switched onto a softer one that was completely out of character for her, "as to why you would direct such an accusation at me. Surely your lack of faith in me isn't impelling you to lay the responsibility of an unfortunate song on me."
Snape seemed as if he was torn between looking impressed at McGonagall's Slytherin dialogue and looking aghast at the flat-out rudeness towards Lord Voldemort.
"You're mistaken, Minerva," said Voldemort, picking up a goblet casually and downing the liquid contents. "I mean no harm. Call me paranoid if you wish. It's just that it's so coincidental. Discernibly, Professors Snape, Lestrange and Headmistress Carrow cannot possibly have been the ones to tell the Sorting Hat what to sing…"
McGonagall peered at him from over her spectacles.
"Therefore it just leaves you, Minerva, and our other beloved Professors. Surely you're not suggesting that our dearest Professors Sprout and Flitwick did it?"
Harry could tell Voldemort's words struck just where they aimed.
He had deliberately made McGonagall fear for her colleagues. It was either the Gryffindor Head or it was one of the other Professors, that was what the Dark Lord was indirectly saying.
"I think you underestimate the Hat, My Lord," said McGonagall brusquely. "It is abnormally independent – usually preferring to think up its own songs."
"Yes," the Dark Lord mused, "that is another possibility."
"Yes," McGonagall said coldly.
"Of course…"
"Anything else to add, My Lord?"
Harry thought that the Professor was pushing her luck. Voldemort's tolerance could snap at any second.
"What did the Sorting Hat sing again?" the powerful sorcerer asked, smiling. "Though condemned I am to split you, still I worry that it's wrong… and then it's… the warning history shows, for our Hogwarts is in danger…"
Upon those words, the Sorting Hat immediately opened its brim again. "Though condemned I am to split you, still I worry that it's wrong. Though I must fulfil my duty And must quarter every year, still I wonder whether sorting may not bring the end I fear. Oh, know the perils, read the signs the warning history shows.
For our Hogwarts is in danger from interior, deadly foes and we must unite inside her or we'll crumble from within. I have told you, I have warned you… Let the sorting now begin."
The Sorting Hat fell silent once again.
"Ingenious, the old Hat," Voldemort chuckled. "It is quite the rebel."
Harry thought he heard a bit of forcefulness in the laughter, though he might well have imagined it because Snape seemed to relax again, uncurling his fists.
"It is," McGonagall said, with a genuine bit of fondness.
"With all due respect, Minerva, since you had been the one to suggest a song, I jumped to the most obvious – if irrational – conclusion. I apologise most sincerely for the rude accusation," Voldemort expressed his regret.
Whispers fired up the Great Hall.
Harry even caught a few words some of the students were saying: 'At least he's decent enough to admit he was wrong.'
If Harry didn't loathe Voldemort as much as he did, he too may have believed what the Dark Lord was saying. In fact, now he wasn't too sure if the apology was honest or not.
"My Lord…"
Harry turned towards McGonagall to hear what she was going to say.
"I must apologise too, for my blatant discourtesy. It was most inappropriate," she said.
"That makes the two of us," Voldemort laughed, revealing two rows of strikingly white teeth. "What a bad example we must set for the students."
He was back to his charming self. "All you teachers and prefects must somehow try and compensate for us. We can't have annoyed parents ringing us up, saying we're teaching the students how to act up at home."
Harry was astounded when a round of laughter greeted the joke.
It was clever, he had to admit; Voldemort had sneakily, though casually, thrown in a part of muggle culture – 'we can't have annoyed parents ringing us up' – thus successfully gaining the good humour of the students who were more open-minded towards the muggle community while seeming unbiased himself.
Even Hermione Granger was smiling a little.
"Well, we've wasted enough time. You students must be sick with nervousness," the Dark Lord nodded at Harry and the other First Years. "And I'm sure all of us want to start eating."
He returned to his seat once again. "Let the Sorting begin!"
Harry stood there, waiting, with his hands clamped tensely together.
He had watched student after student go off to the wooden stool where McGonagall stood with the Sorting Hat.
"Hufflepuff!" the Hat had cried when a girl named Susan Bones sat down.
The girl had dropped the Hat on the floor where it sat, eyes rolling irritably as the girl scuttled off to where her House sat.
She was embraced like a long-lost family member with a sounding round of applause.
The same happened to Astoria Greengrass when she was sorted into Slytherin. Except she was welcomed with more than claps and hugs. Someone – Harry didn't see who – had transfigured a miniature snake out of a fork and made it float into the air, hissing 'Go, Astoria!'
According to Hermione, whose whispers immediately were breathed into Harry's ear, that was one piece of advanced magic. Students weren't supposed to learn it until the later years… although it could well have been an older student.
There was also a beautiful-looking girl with platinum blonde hair so pale that it could have been mistaken for white; she nodded at Astoria Greengrass as the First Year girl anxiously sat down next to her.
She had amber eyes, high cheek bones, pink petals of splendour for lips and sharp features. She looked like a fifth year, four years older than Harry, but furthermore had the superior air of someone unapproachable; she looked at the First Years with her head held proudly high and eyes judging calculatingly.
It was odd; it was clear Astoria Greengrass was close to the older Slytherin girl – most likely sisters, but the older girl acted so distant, only saying a: 'Congratulations, Astoria. Mother and Father will be pleased'.
Somehow, the whole exchange felt too professional, to the extent that it might only have been a show, put up for the other Slytherins.
Harry had a feeling that for all the older girl's coolness, she had been the one to do that piece of magic Hermione had considered so 'advanced'.
Finally it was Harry's turn. His legs suddenly turned to marshmallows. Not that they were edible but because they felt like he would collapse if he even tried to put half of his weight on them.
"Come along, Mr Potter. Over here," McGonagall called.
With a gigantic effort, Harry managed his way over to her. At her gesture, he sat down on the small stool, feeling exceedingly foolish and awkward, as she put the Sorting Hat on his head.
Without knowing why, Harry found an urge to resist and to tear the Hat off. He didn't feel like he wanted an intruder in his head.
The Sorting Hat would be looking through the rich layers of all his juicy secrets to be able to get at his deepest personality and sort him into a House.
He rebuked himself, feeling silly. Every other student had to go through this… even Draco Malfoy, who must have truly, truly cherished his privacy.
Harry couldn't help but wonder whether the Sorting Hat would take a long time. It had only been a matter of seconds, as soon as it had touched Malfoy's head, when it shouted out Slytherin for the whole Hall to hear.
On the other hand, sorting Hermione had proved to be a challenge.
Harry guessed the know-it-all Hermione must had not always been an inner bookworm; there had to be something else to her.
Whatever it was, it had taken the Sorting Hat a straight five minutes to sort her. It had eventually decided to place her in Ravenclaw, where Harry knew she would be happy.
But now that the Sorting Hat was on his head, Harry realised with a sinking heart that he was also a challenge.
"Ahh… a difficult one," was the Sorting Hat's first words to Harry. Its voice was strangely loud inside his head.
"Let's see…hmm… kind and caring usually – a nice boy. Has a soft spot for interesting books. Perhaps a Ravenclaw? Not quite so book smart as a typical Ravenclaw, though. Intelligent, oh yes. But you'd always prefer active learning over theory. Original? Creative? Yes and yes."
"Yes. Let me be in Ravenclaw," Harry muttered to the Hat inside his head. "Hermione's there!"
The Hat seemed to have ignored him. "How about Gryffindor? Brave and courageous! Chivalrous! You, dear boy, suit many of the qualities. Godric Gryffindor would love to have you in his House! Despite your boldness, however, you prefer to fight with words rather than fists… You have a hot temper, but an unusual amount of control over it. Just as long as somebody doesn't push you over the edge…"
Harry chose to stay silent and let the Sorting Hat do its work. After all, he'd only get ignored if he did say anything.
"How about Hufflepuff? Loyal and caring, hardworking and steadfast. With a personality so sweet that it could melt vinegar. A patience and tolerance so exercised that nothing would make you loose your head. Dear Mr Potter, despite your occasional Hufflepuff mannerisms, I say you're nothing like them. You've lost your unflappability more than a couple of times. Angry enough to strangle someone…"
Harry looked up with a jolt.
"How did you know about that?" he demanded. "This is an invasion of personal privacy."
Somehow when the Hat began talking again, it sounded immensely smug. "I know all, Mr Potter. I see all your most cherished secrets, secrets that you never planned to tell anyone. Anyway, back on track, aside from that, you have lost your cool and resorted to intentionally harming someone, engaged with the idea of revenge."
"He is freaking Voldemort!" Harry snapped angrily. "He killed someone, Ollivander! You expect to sit there and keep my stupid cool? First he tortured him, and then he sent him to the land of the dead. I haven't done anything to him aside from a little squeeze around the neck…which if I may add, he warned me against ever doing again, with threats."
"But alas, you intended him harm, that makes you a definite no-no for Hufflepuff House," smirked the Hat.
Harry felt a kind of cold anger. He had no idea why he was arguing with an old piece of fabric that should have rightfully been dead.
Besides, the job of the Hat was to sort him, wasn't it? Then why was it spending all its stupid time provoking him?
"Fine! I'm a no-no for Hufflepuff, I get it. But when you look here, with an eye around logic, Voldemort killed somebody. Don't you think that gives me the right to react?" Harry attempted to reason with the bloody hat.
"No Hufflepuff would ever think like that," said the Hat.
"Then what do they think like? That they should give Voldemort sweets because at least he had the mercy not to decapitate the corpse? That's downright pathetic if you ask me."
The Hat tutted. "No need to insult a whole House that hasn't done anything to you. They are the purest souls around."
Harry instantly felt a bit guilty. "You provoked me."
"Don't try to blame me," the Hat muttered. "I do not control your mouth… or in this case…mind."
Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw the staff and students shift around a little, murmuring to each other about how long the Sorting Hat was taking.
Harry blushed a little, seeing that the interest was on him.
In fact, Voldemort turned his head and looked Harry dead in the eye, with not just a bit of curiosity.
There was a flash of recognition as the Dark Lord smirked slightly.
"Hey, do you think you can hurry up a little? Everybody's staring," Harry said to the old Hat.
"All right then… Hufflepuff is definitely out. So is Ravenclaw."
"What?" Harry protested. "You said I had Ravenclaw qualities!"
"Not as much as Gryffindor or Slytherin…" the Hat paused for a moment. "Slytherin; power-hungry, ambitious, cunning, resourceful…and rather persuasive."
"That sounds all right," Harry mused. "Except Draco Malfoy is in it."
"Slytherin will certainly help you on the way to greatness. If you have any doubts you can ask Lord Voldemort. He's had first-hand experience…"
"Wait, what?! Voldemort was in Slytherin?" Harry gasped. "Now, just wait a moment. Don't sort me into that House. Please."
"Why not?" countered the Hat. "Gryffindors prefer to fight with fists, Slytherins adapt to more cunning methods, preferring to use verbal words to intimidate or humiliate rather than brutal force… though they can be just as forceful. I know you have a personal inclination towards the latter. While Gryffindors say things outright, Slytherins play political games, twisting words and others' minds. Despite that you lean more towards Gryffindor on that one, I'm sure with time and experience; you'll familiarize with the Slytherin mind games and even throw some of your own."
"Wait! Slytherins have a sense of self-preservation. I displayed none when I attacked Voldemort."
"Hmmm…however you faced him intent on revenge with a purpose to injure. If that isn't Slytherin, I do not know what is. Besides, Slytherins can be brave too. The world isn't painted in black and white."
"That means Gryffindors can be vengeful too," Harry pointed out.
"You see what I mean? You're good with words and persuasion. Slytherin House is for you."
"Any chance of me persuading you?" Harry asked.
"None. I make up decisions for myself. Outwardly you act like a Gryffindor, but given the right chances your Slytherin side will come out, displayed in the smallest of things. For example, you blamed me when I said you insulted Hufflepuff. Slytherins have a tendency for that. We may even be able to call you a snake in lion's hide."
"That is pure nonsense," Harry spluttered. "So that is why you provoked me."
"Smart boy," the Hat said sarcastically. "Time for you to join your House."
"Please, no! Wait!"
"Too late," smirked the Hat. "SLYTHERIN!"
"I promise you I'll tear you apart one day. You've put me in the same House as Voldemort," Harry promised as McGonagall lifted the Hat from his head.
He had an urge to groan as Voldemort's eyes found him again.
Harry trudged to the House table, his House table, ignoring the applause and not meeting Hermione's eyes as she stared concernedly after him from the Ravenclaw table.
Great. Just great.
He hoped to dear god that he would not turn out like Voldemort some day.
Disclaimer: Harry Potter will never belong to me. I can only wish.
Reminder: Please review. Please, please, please.