A/N: (August 1) This is not necessarily a final draft. This is the most vital chapter of all, and something may have to be changed. So check back. That means, if I have a lot of trouble because I haven't set things up right for the next parts of the story, I'll have to change this. Check back soon.
Chapter Eight: A Complication in Sorting
Professor McGonagall led them through the enormous Entrance Hall, past several marble stair cases, around a doorway which must have led to the Great Hall, and into a small room. It seemed they had to ration their space so as to fit the whole first year in. But nobody really minded, because in some strange way, it made them all considerably less nervous.
"Welcome to Hogwarts." Ron was sure he almost saw Professor McGonagall smile at him as she said this. He didn't know that Professor McGonagall smiling was a very rare happening. He turned his gaze to his feet. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.
"The four houses are called--"
"Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each has produced outstanding witches and wizards--"
"And they have their own noble history, don't forget that--"
"Let's see... your 'triumphs' will earn your house points--"
"But your rule-breaking will do the opposite."
"At the end of the year the house with the most points wins the house cup--"
"But if that's your goal, I wouldn't recommend Gryffindor, because we're in it," finished Fred Weasley.
Professor McGonagall looked sternly at Fred and George. "Mr. Weasley!" she huffed, addressing both of them at once.
"We're terribly sorry to interrupt, but Professor Dumbledore's sent us to fetch you from the midst of your lengthy lecture to the first years and shorten it up for you a bit."
"He says," George continued, picking up where his brother had left off, "there's something wrong with the Sorting Hat."
"Something wrong with the Sorting Hat?" Professor McGonagall echoed in alarm.
"It's terribly upset about something. Says it needs to consult with the four house heads and, of course, Professor Dumbledore."
"The first years--"
"It's okay," said George.
Fred grinned. "We'll take care of it."
The Professor didn't look too happy about this, but it appeared to be the only option, so she hurried off. Fred and George stood up on a couple of chairs Professor McGonagall had taken the liberty of conjuring before leaving.
"We will now give you the shortened version of McGonagall's welcome speech!" George shouted above the buzzing of voices.
"Blah, blah, blah--"
"--Blah, blah blah!"
"Get that dirt off your nose, Weasley!"
Ron glared at them but spat on his finger and attempted to get the smudge off his nose.
"And you there! Next to Weasley!"
Neville looked up.
"Your cloak fastening goes under your chin! And put your toad away."
"And whoever's cat this is, needs to do something with it, because it's tearing George's face off!"
George was currently struggling with a cat that had bound itself to his head.
At that moment, adding to the mayhem, several ghosts drifted through the walls. They appeared to be arguing. A fat one said something about a second chance, and forgiving and forgetting, and several Oprah Winfrey talk-show level things.
"My dear Friar," said a ghost who looked as though he'd just jumped out of Robin Hood, "haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost--I say, what are you all doing here?" he addressed the first years.
"Firsties," said Fred.
"About to be sorted," said George's muffled voice (he was still wrestling with the cat).
"Ah!" exclaimed the Friar. "Good luck to you!"
And they all floated through the wall opposite from the one they'd entered through.
"I wonder," Fred wondered, "what's taking them so long."
It was only now that it occurred to the first years that they should worry about this. "What, exactly," said Ron, voicing the question they all had been thinking, "is the Sorting Hat?"
"It's a nickname. It sounds less harmless that way," Fred answered.
"A nickname for what?"
"Yes," George said as he flung the cat, shrieking, away from his face. "His real name is Thesortine Hatte."
"He's a troll," Fred nodded.
"You have to wrestle him," George added.
When Professor McGonagall finally returned and led them through the enormous double doors in the Great Hall, Ron personally felt he could not possibly be any more nervous. He was turning an unpleasant shade of green with every passing second.
The Great Hall was in all its glory; thousands and thousands of candles hung above the tables as though suspended by invisible arms, illuminating sparkling golden plates and goblets. The long table where the teachers were sitting was looking above the first years as they walked to the front of the Hall, all eyes upon them. They finally came to a halt facing all the other students.
To avoid the penetrating stares of the others, Ron decided, for a change, to look at the ceiling (instead of his usual gaze at the floor). Of course nothing is normal at Hogwarts, and he of all people should have known that by now. Yet he was still shocked to see that there was no ceiling at all.
Of course he felt like a bit of an idiot when he heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
In front of them, Professor McGonagall swiftly and silently set down a stool, and on top of the stool, placed an old hat. "Ahaha," thought Ron, angrily if not a little relieved, "it really IS a hat." Though he wasn't altogether sure it could even be considered a hat, and not, like it suggested, a terribly old piece of cloth shaped like a hat.
Everyone, without exception, was staring directly at the hat at this point; the first years in disbelief, the rest of the school with expectance. There was complete silence, and suddenly Ron heard a voice--
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,"
He frowned. Was it the had talking?
"But don't judge on what you see,"
Perhaps it WAS the hat.
"I'll ear myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me."
Yes, Ron decided, it definitely was the hat.
"You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all."
Ron cracked a smile at the sad pun. It was less the pun itself than the concept that he had actually heard a hat make a pun.
"There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be."
Try it on! Ron laughed hollowly. So that was it?
"You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart.
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;"
Ron tensed up at those words. What if he wasn't in Gryffindor? He gulped and glanced at his red-haired brothers staring worriedly at the hat.
"You might belond in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;"
Ron eyed Neville and Justin. So long, he thought to them, for he knew that they would be placed in that house, and he would not.
"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;"
He looked sadly at Padma. "Ron," he said to himself, "at least you're getting rid of Hermione."
"Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends."
He glared in Malfoy's direction. The destruction of the world, and it would be all Malfoy's fault.
"So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safew hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
Ron shook his head as the hall burst into a thunderous applause. Despite what the hat said, he was afraid. He knew it wasn't as simple as just trying on the hat.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding an extremely long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said.
"Abbot, Hannah!" was sorted into Hufflepuff, as was Susan Bones.
Terry Boot, however, became fhe first Ravenclaw, and was followed by "Brocklehurst, Mandy".
"Brown, Lavender!" was greeted by a tumultous applause from the Gryffindor table as she was knighted a member of it. "Bulstrode, Millicent" became a Slytherin. Ron followed her trail from the stool to her table, and cringed at the sight of where Harry Potter would be sitting in a few minutes' time.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"
Justin slowly walked forward, curious as to how, exactly, this hat could tell what house it should put you in. Smart it may be, but even smart does not mean it can read minds.
Hermione wished him good luck.
The hat sat on his head for a long time before declaring him a Hufflepuff. He hurried off toward the Hufflepuff table.
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione nearly skipped forward and lightly placed the hat on her head.
"Hello, Miss Granger," it said in her ear.
"Er, hello," she mumbled to it, unsure of what to do.
"Nice school, this is, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes it is, I suppose." She'd never made small-talk with a hat before. "Lovely weather, too."
"Quite. Anyway, I suppose you know what I have to do."
"Erm, put me in a house?"
"Yes. But I meant, you know that I have to do this."
"Do what?"
"Put you in SLYTHERIN!"
Hermione, eyes-wide, slowly walked to the Slytherin table. She tried as hard as possible not to burst into tears. She couldn't be in Slytherin. That was ridiculous. It was just... absolutely insane.
What could go wrong with the hat that would cause Hermione to be in Slytherin? And, more importantly, thought Ron, what if it happened to him?
Neville was called up. He fell over on his way to the stool, knocking the stool over, and, consequently, causing the hat to fly into the air and land on his head. Dazed, he attempted to stand up. Finally, the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
Ron was not shocked in any way, shape, or form. It had been precisely what he had been expecting. He was extremely loyal, and kind of dense--the mark of your typical Hufflepuff. Plus he had a toad, which he decided probably was an automatic admittance to Hufflepuff.
"Malfoy, Draco!"
Slytherin. No surprises there. The hat had shouted the name of his house before it had actually touched his head. He 'coincidentially' chose a seat at the table on the side of Hermione, who looked around her, disgusted and wondering the quickest way out of the school.
"Moon"..., "Nott"..., "Parkinson"...
"Patil, Padma!"
Gracefully she stepped forward, giving the hat an inquring look before putting it on her head. "I see," said the hat in her ear, "that you were trying to manipulate someone into something."
"Well, you know," she said, back to the hat. "I did what I had to."
"It didn't work?"
"No."
"And you didn't go back, to try to make it work?"
"No."
"Ah. Right then. I suppose you'd make a good RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted.
"I must say, I agree," said Padma to the hat as she pulled it off and walked to the Ravenclaw table. Ron followed her with his eyes, admiring the ease with which she stole the attention of the entire hall. Suddenly he hoped he'd be a Ravenclaw.
"Potter, Harry!"
Whispers broke out like storms throughout the Great Hall. "Harry Potter," Ron mumbled. "So bloody famous, yet an idiot at the same time." He glared at Harry, who was making his way to the stool.
Harry did not fail to notice Ron's glare. He tried pretending he was ignoring Ron, but it was in vain, for the youngest Weasley brother saw right through his attempts at hiding the fact that he was bothered by this and continued to glare without the slightest change in emotion.
As the hat dropped over his eyes, Harry caught one glance at Ron, who was standing with his arms cross, staring smugly at Harry with a smirk on his face, as though to say something to Harry along the lines of, "I know something you don't, and I'm not going to tell you, because that would spoil the fun, wouldn't it?"
"Hmmm," said a small voice in his ear. "This is going to be a hard one, so many talents!.... So where shall I put you? You seem to have had an incident on the train..."
Harry looked straight at the brim of the hat. How did it--
"How do I know, you ask. I know, because I can see straight into your mind."
'What?' thought Harry.
"It's what I do," the hat explained.
'Oh. I see. So THAT'S how you sort people.'
"Yes. I'm having trouble sorting you, though."
'Wh--what? I mean... why?'
"A slight complication. Too complex to explain. Just... trouble. And so I must ask you this, and the first thing that comes up in your mind, will be the truth."
'Why?'
"Like I said... a long and complex story. So, here's the question: What house do YOU want to be in?"
Before Harry could stop himself thinking it, he did.
"Ah. Right then."
'No! I was kidding! I mean, I want to be in--'
"Potter, it's got to be that one. I told you. And so, now you're in SLYTHERIN!"
Ron stared at the hat, trying to maintain his smug look in case Harry should look in his direction again. He was really about to burst into tears at the prospect of the destruction of the earth, and was fighting every urge to vomit from his nervousness.
The Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor tables were all looking grave. Ron couldn't believe he'd lost his two friends to Slytherin. 'First Harry chooses to be in Slytherin, then Hermione is placed in Slytherin. Padma's sorted into Ravenclaw, and Justin and Neville are Hufflepuffs. At the rate this is going, I won't be having any intelligent conversation in the next seven years,' he thought.
This was a thought that the hat picked up when his name was called.
"So, you're afraid you're not going to have any friends in your years at Hogwarts, eh?" said the hat.
'Not any intelligent ones, anyway.' He laughed hollowly. 'I'd RATHER,' he paused, 'be in Slytherin.'
"Then that's what it is!"
'No! I was kidding!'
"Oh, be honest with yourself. You are MEANT to be a Slytherin, and you know it."
'That's completely untrue.'
"No, it isn't. Count off your personality traits. You've got cunning, you'll move mountains to get your way. Oh yes," the hat almost nodded, "I know exactly what has happened in the past few hours. And that you are THE perfect Slytherin. And above all... you are, quite simply, the most manipulative person who has ever placed me on their head."
Ron's jaw dropped. 'This is a joke. It has to be, right? I mean, you're flawed! You had to see the house heads and Dumbledore because of it!'
"The MEETING," said the hat, "was about--"
'Harry Potter. Yes, I know, Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that, you FEARED that Harry Potter was going to be placed in Slytherin.'
"No. You have to realize something. My thoughts only concern the sorting, not the results of it. The thoughts of the consequences of Harry Potter being a Slytherin is not my notion to entertain. I am supposed to be unbiased unless something comes in the way of the sorting. That means, I don't care, unless, by some insane chance, someone found a way to manipulate the sorting. And that person might not even know it."
'Why are you telling me this?'
"That meeting... was about YOU."
Chapter Eight: A Complication in Sorting
Professor McGonagall led them through the enormous Entrance Hall, past several marble stair cases, around a doorway which must have led to the Great Hall, and into a small room. It seemed they had to ration their space so as to fit the whole first year in. But nobody really minded, because in some strange way, it made them all considerably less nervous.
"Welcome to Hogwarts." Ron was sure he almost saw Professor McGonagall smile at him as she said this. He didn't know that Professor McGonagall smiling was a very rare happening. He turned his gaze to his feet. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.
"The four houses are called--"
"Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each has produced outstanding witches and wizards--"
"And they have their own noble history, don't forget that--"
"Let's see... your 'triumphs' will earn your house points--"
"But your rule-breaking will do the opposite."
"At the end of the year the house with the most points wins the house cup--"
"But if that's your goal, I wouldn't recommend Gryffindor, because we're in it," finished Fred Weasley.
Professor McGonagall looked sternly at Fred and George. "Mr. Weasley!" she huffed, addressing both of them at once.
"We're terribly sorry to interrupt, but Professor Dumbledore's sent us to fetch you from the midst of your lengthy lecture to the first years and shorten it up for you a bit."
"He says," George continued, picking up where his brother had left off, "there's something wrong with the Sorting Hat."
"Something wrong with the Sorting Hat?" Professor McGonagall echoed in alarm.
"It's terribly upset about something. Says it needs to consult with the four house heads and, of course, Professor Dumbledore."
"The first years--"
"It's okay," said George.
Fred grinned. "We'll take care of it."
The Professor didn't look too happy about this, but it appeared to be the only option, so she hurried off. Fred and George stood up on a couple of chairs Professor McGonagall had taken the liberty of conjuring before leaving.
"We will now give you the shortened version of McGonagall's welcome speech!" George shouted above the buzzing of voices.
"Blah, blah, blah--"
"--Blah, blah blah!"
"Get that dirt off your nose, Weasley!"
Ron glared at them but spat on his finger and attempted to get the smudge off his nose.
"And you there! Next to Weasley!"
Neville looked up.
"Your cloak fastening goes under your chin! And put your toad away."
"And whoever's cat this is, needs to do something with it, because it's tearing George's face off!"
George was currently struggling with a cat that had bound itself to his head.
At that moment, adding to the mayhem, several ghosts drifted through the walls. They appeared to be arguing. A fat one said something about a second chance, and forgiving and forgetting, and several Oprah Winfrey talk-show level things.
"My dear Friar," said a ghost who looked as though he'd just jumped out of Robin Hood, "haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost--I say, what are you all doing here?" he addressed the first years.
"Firsties," said Fred.
"About to be sorted," said George's muffled voice (he was still wrestling with the cat).
"Ah!" exclaimed the Friar. "Good luck to you!"
And they all floated through the wall opposite from the one they'd entered through.
"I wonder," Fred wondered, "what's taking them so long."
It was only now that it occurred to the first years that they should worry about this. "What, exactly," said Ron, voicing the question they all had been thinking, "is the Sorting Hat?"
"It's a nickname. It sounds less harmless that way," Fred answered.
"A nickname for what?"
"Yes," George said as he flung the cat, shrieking, away from his face. "His real name is Thesortine Hatte."
"He's a troll," Fred nodded.
"You have to wrestle him," George added.
When Professor McGonagall finally returned and led them through the enormous double doors in the Great Hall, Ron personally felt he could not possibly be any more nervous. He was turning an unpleasant shade of green with every passing second.
The Great Hall was in all its glory; thousands and thousands of candles hung above the tables as though suspended by invisible arms, illuminating sparkling golden plates and goblets. The long table where the teachers were sitting was looking above the first years as they walked to the front of the Hall, all eyes upon them. They finally came to a halt facing all the other students.
To avoid the penetrating stares of the others, Ron decided, for a change, to look at the ceiling (instead of his usual gaze at the floor). Of course nothing is normal at Hogwarts, and he of all people should have known that by now. Yet he was still shocked to see that there was no ceiling at all.
Of course he felt like a bit of an idiot when he heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
In front of them, Professor McGonagall swiftly and silently set down a stool, and on top of the stool, placed an old hat. "Ahaha," thought Ron, angrily if not a little relieved, "it really IS a hat." Though he wasn't altogether sure it could even be considered a hat, and not, like it suggested, a terribly old piece of cloth shaped like a hat.
Everyone, without exception, was staring directly at the hat at this point; the first years in disbelief, the rest of the school with expectance. There was complete silence, and suddenly Ron heard a voice--
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,"
He frowned. Was it the had talking?
"But don't judge on what you see,"
Perhaps it WAS the hat.
"I'll ear myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me."
Yes, Ron decided, it definitely was the hat.
"You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all."
Ron cracked a smile at the sad pun. It was less the pun itself than the concept that he had actually heard a hat make a pun.
"There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be."
Try it on! Ron laughed hollowly. So that was it?
"You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart.
Their daring, nerve and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;"
Ron tensed up at those words. What if he wasn't in Gryffindor? He gulped and glanced at his red-haired brothers staring worriedly at the hat.
"You might belond in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;"
Ron eyed Neville and Justin. So long, he thought to them, for he knew that they would be placed in that house, and he would not.
"Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;"
He looked sadly at Padma. "Ron," he said to himself, "at least you're getting rid of Hermione."
"Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends."
He glared in Malfoy's direction. The destruction of the world, and it would be all Malfoy's fault.
"So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safew hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
Ron shook his head as the hall burst into a thunderous applause. Despite what the hat said, he was afraid. He knew it wasn't as simple as just trying on the hat.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward holding an extremely long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said.
"Abbot, Hannah!" was sorted into Hufflepuff, as was Susan Bones.
Terry Boot, however, became fhe first Ravenclaw, and was followed by "Brocklehurst, Mandy".
"Brown, Lavender!" was greeted by a tumultous applause from the Gryffindor table as she was knighted a member of it. "Bulstrode, Millicent" became a Slytherin. Ron followed her trail from the stool to her table, and cringed at the sight of where Harry Potter would be sitting in a few minutes' time.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"
Justin slowly walked forward, curious as to how, exactly, this hat could tell what house it should put you in. Smart it may be, but even smart does not mean it can read minds.
Hermione wished him good luck.
The hat sat on his head for a long time before declaring him a Hufflepuff. He hurried off toward the Hufflepuff table.
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione nearly skipped forward and lightly placed the hat on her head.
"Hello, Miss Granger," it said in her ear.
"Er, hello," she mumbled to it, unsure of what to do.
"Nice school, this is, isn't it?"
"Yes, yes it is, I suppose." She'd never made small-talk with a hat before. "Lovely weather, too."
"Quite. Anyway, I suppose you know what I have to do."
"Erm, put me in a house?"
"Yes. But I meant, you know that I have to do this."
"Do what?"
"Put you in SLYTHERIN!"
Hermione, eyes-wide, slowly walked to the Slytherin table. She tried as hard as possible not to burst into tears. She couldn't be in Slytherin. That was ridiculous. It was just... absolutely insane.
What could go wrong with the hat that would cause Hermione to be in Slytherin? And, more importantly, thought Ron, what if it happened to him?
Neville was called up. He fell over on his way to the stool, knocking the stool over, and, consequently, causing the hat to fly into the air and land on his head. Dazed, he attempted to stand up. Finally, the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
Ron was not shocked in any way, shape, or form. It had been precisely what he had been expecting. He was extremely loyal, and kind of dense--the mark of your typical Hufflepuff. Plus he had a toad, which he decided probably was an automatic admittance to Hufflepuff.
"Malfoy, Draco!"
Slytherin. No surprises there. The hat had shouted the name of his house before it had actually touched his head. He 'coincidentially' chose a seat at the table on the side of Hermione, who looked around her, disgusted and wondering the quickest way out of the school.
"Moon"..., "Nott"..., "Parkinson"...
"Patil, Padma!"
Gracefully she stepped forward, giving the hat an inquring look before putting it on her head. "I see," said the hat in her ear, "that you were trying to manipulate someone into something."
"Well, you know," she said, back to the hat. "I did what I had to."
"It didn't work?"
"No."
"And you didn't go back, to try to make it work?"
"No."
"Ah. Right then. I suppose you'd make a good RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted.
"I must say, I agree," said Padma to the hat as she pulled it off and walked to the Ravenclaw table. Ron followed her with his eyes, admiring the ease with which she stole the attention of the entire hall. Suddenly he hoped he'd be a Ravenclaw.
"Potter, Harry!"
Whispers broke out like storms throughout the Great Hall. "Harry Potter," Ron mumbled. "So bloody famous, yet an idiot at the same time." He glared at Harry, who was making his way to the stool.
Harry did not fail to notice Ron's glare. He tried pretending he was ignoring Ron, but it was in vain, for the youngest Weasley brother saw right through his attempts at hiding the fact that he was bothered by this and continued to glare without the slightest change in emotion.
As the hat dropped over his eyes, Harry caught one glance at Ron, who was standing with his arms cross, staring smugly at Harry with a smirk on his face, as though to say something to Harry along the lines of, "I know something you don't, and I'm not going to tell you, because that would spoil the fun, wouldn't it?"
"Hmmm," said a small voice in his ear. "This is going to be a hard one, so many talents!.... So where shall I put you? You seem to have had an incident on the train..."
Harry looked straight at the brim of the hat. How did it--
"How do I know, you ask. I know, because I can see straight into your mind."
'What?' thought Harry.
"It's what I do," the hat explained.
'Oh. I see. So THAT'S how you sort people.'
"Yes. I'm having trouble sorting you, though."
'Wh--what? I mean... why?'
"A slight complication. Too complex to explain. Just... trouble. And so I must ask you this, and the first thing that comes up in your mind, will be the truth."
'Why?'
"Like I said... a long and complex story. So, here's the question: What house do YOU want to be in?"
Before Harry could stop himself thinking it, he did.
"Ah. Right then."
'No! I was kidding! I mean, I want to be in--'
"Potter, it's got to be that one. I told you. And so, now you're in SLYTHERIN!"
Ron stared at the hat, trying to maintain his smug look in case Harry should look in his direction again. He was really about to burst into tears at the prospect of the destruction of the earth, and was fighting every urge to vomit from his nervousness.
The Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor tables were all looking grave. Ron couldn't believe he'd lost his two friends to Slytherin. 'First Harry chooses to be in Slytherin, then Hermione is placed in Slytherin. Padma's sorted into Ravenclaw, and Justin and Neville are Hufflepuffs. At the rate this is going, I won't be having any intelligent conversation in the next seven years,' he thought.
This was a thought that the hat picked up when his name was called.
"So, you're afraid you're not going to have any friends in your years at Hogwarts, eh?" said the hat.
'Not any intelligent ones, anyway.' He laughed hollowly. 'I'd RATHER,' he paused, 'be in Slytherin.'
"Then that's what it is!"
'No! I was kidding!'
"Oh, be honest with yourself. You are MEANT to be a Slytherin, and you know it."
'That's completely untrue.'
"No, it isn't. Count off your personality traits. You've got cunning, you'll move mountains to get your way. Oh yes," the hat almost nodded, "I know exactly what has happened in the past few hours. And that you are THE perfect Slytherin. And above all... you are, quite simply, the most manipulative person who has ever placed me on their head."
Ron's jaw dropped. 'This is a joke. It has to be, right? I mean, you're flawed! You had to see the house heads and Dumbledore because of it!'
"The MEETING," said the hat, "was about--"
'Harry Potter. Yes, I know, Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that, you FEARED that Harry Potter was going to be placed in Slytherin.'
"No. You have to realize something. My thoughts only concern the sorting, not the results of it. The thoughts of the consequences of Harry Potter being a Slytherin is not my notion to entertain. I am supposed to be unbiased unless something comes in the way of the sorting. That means, I don't care, unless, by some insane chance, someone found a way to manipulate the sorting. And that person might not even know it."
'Why are you telling me this?'
"That meeting... was about YOU."
