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"This has happened before," Hermione said, her voice nearly swallowed in the very noisy common room. "In thirteen - thirteen. I read it in Hogwarts, a History."
Ron's face was flushed red with anger, "What is Dumbledore on about? This… this isn't right, resorting us all like this!"
"He _has_ to do it, Ron." Hermione countered automatically. "You heard him. The balance of the four houses needs to be restored for magic to work properly here again."
"None of the teachers looked too happy about it," Harry commented, absently. Similar conversations were going on around the entire common room, and Harry felt like he was seeing a place in a new light. How many less people would be here tomorrow night? How many were to go to the Ravenclaw house?
"Well," said Hermione, "I'm not too happy about it either, but I'm sure it's all for the best."
"You'll be singing a different tune tomorrow." Ron's expression had gone very dark indeed, "You don know that you'll be sorted into Ravenclaw, don't you? With your wits."
Hermione went pale.
"She might not be the only one," Harry muttered, then winced, wishing that he hadn't spoken up at all.
Ron gave his friend an appraising look, "No, I don't think you'll be resorted, Harry. You don't like to study at all."
"Yeah." But Harry hadn't been talking about being resorted into Ravenclaw. His mind kept flashing back to the duel, and to the feeling of pleasure he had gotten when Draco was afraid of him. Were those Slytherin traits? He would bet money on the fact that feeling pleasure from someone else's pain wasn't a characteristic of Gryffindor.
BAM!
Every head in the common room turned to the corner where Fred and George were laughing themselves sick at an oversized canary who used to be their sister, Ginny. The boys didn't have any instincts at all about how to make their sister happy… but at least it served to lighten the mood in the comment room.
And Ginny, when she molted and turned back to her normal self, did remark that she felt a little better.
********
The Great Hall was abuzz with noise the next evening with the chatter taking on a high pitched, almost distressed note. Each person was worried, worried that they were going to be resorted and ripped away from their friends and house… so they were talking to fill in the worry.
Dumbledore was sitting at the head of the teacher's desk, looking quite unworried, almost serene. It was Professer McGonagall who stood up from the table, catching everyone's attention. Where just a moment before the Great Hall had been filled with noise… now it was so silent, a pin could be heard dropping.
"When I call out your names, please come up and sit on the stool." The Professer said, coming around the table to stand by the stool in question. It was the same directions each student had been given before on their first year, but now the new circumstances made it almost… eerie. Each student was just as nervous as they had been before, on their first day at Hogwarts.
"Zabini, Blaise!"
Blaise came from the Slytherin table, looking only slightly nervous. She arranged her transfigured black cloak regally around her as she sat on the stool. Professer McGonagall placed the old worn out Sorting Hat on her head, and there was a moment's silence before it screamed out, "Slytherin!"
Blaise's home table clapped in applause, and at the same time, her transfigured black clothes of mourning changed color to silver and green.
"Thomas, Yetti!"
"She's calling out the names in reverse order." Hermione said, over the cheer of the Hufflepuff table when Thomas was returned to them, decked out in black and yellow.
"Weasely, Ron!"
Harry scooted his chair out of the way for his friend so Ron could get by him and go up to the stool. Ron gave McGonagall a small, but brave smile before the Sorting Hat was placed on his head.
"Ah yes," the Sorting Hat said, in his mind. "You have grown well in Gryffindor, Mr. Weasley. But what's this? Ah yes, I see… I see." Ron was about to ask what the Hat saw, but it answered his question for him, "You have talent, Mr. Weasley. Talent that has been accessed by your house, but may not come to bloom if you should stay there. Only one thing for it … RAVENCLAW!"
"What?!" Ron ripped the hat off his head and shook it violently, "I'm not a Ravenclaw! Sort me back, you stupid piece of-"
"Mr. Weasely!" An aghast McGonagall grabbed the hat back from his hands, "I understand that you're upset, but take your place with your new house. Immediately!"
Muttering, Ron stalked off to the Ravenclaw table, his robes now the colors of blue and brown.
Harry and Hermione stared at each other, stunned.
"Weasely, Ginny!"
The Sorting Hat didn't look too bad, for all that Ron had tried to strangle the life out of it, but the torn seem did look a tad bit wider when it was placed on Ginny's head. "HUFFLEPUFF!" The Hat yelled, a minute later. Ginny didn't make a show like her brother, but did look to be on the verge of crying when she sat down with the Hufflepuffs.
"Weasley, George!"
George winked bravely at McGonagall when he sat down. He was rewarded barely a second later when the hat called, "GRYFFINDOR!" Fred went next, and was just as lucky.
Things seemed to go in a blur after that. Mostly, the Hat resorted people into their own houses, sometimes calling out "Ravenclaw!" instead. Rarely, it even sorted people into a completely different house, like for Ginny.
Harry kept on glancing to the left, where Ron was sitting. Another Ravenclaw was talking to him, but he seemed too sullen to make good conversation. A lump of sadness grew in Harry's throat… Ron had been his friend since the beginning. What would he do without him? Maybe… maybe they would all get sorted into Ravenclaw. At least then he, Hermione and Ron could be together again…
"Potter, Harry!"
Harry's legs felt like water when he rose and went over to the Hat. Should he ask for it to put him into Ravenclaw? Would it put him into Slytherin instead, for what he did at the duel?
"Hello again, Mr. Potter," The Hat said, when it was placed on his head, "Worried about going to Slytherin, are you? This seems to be a common theme for you… perhaps… no. You are a true Gryfindor, Mr. Potter. You showed it when you pulled the sword out of me the other year. Well, enough talking from me. I have a whole school to sort… GRYFINDOR!"
Harry couldn't look at Ron when he retook his seat. He just couldn't let his friend see the relief on his face.
"Malfoy, Draco!"
Draco walked to the stool, head held up high, not showing any worry unlike _most_ of the students in Hogwarts. The last time, the Hat hadn't even spoken to him before it screamed out his house. This time, there was only silence when it was placed on his head.
What are you waiting for? He thought, angrily.
"I can feel your shame, Mr. Malfoy, and your guilt." Said the voice in his head, making Draco flinch in his seat. Would the Hat tell on him? It could see into his very thoughts. Would it cause him to betray his father? "Ah, loyalty. That's a Hufflepuff trait." The Hat said, "But I don't think that house is for you. You have a wonderful mind, clever and intelligent. Ravenclaw would take you as well. This series of events have changed you, Mr. Malfoy… for better or for worse, I cannot say. But Slytherin is no longer where you belong. Better be… GRYFFINDOR!"
Draco could only sit on the stool, stunned. A flurry of whispers was already echoing around the Hall, but he felt nothing… no anger or confusion… just blank. As if he had witnessed a horrible car accident, and had been shocked beyond emotion.
He glanced down… his expensive robes were now the colors of red and gold. For a moment, he wondered why they should be these colors, instead of the usual silver and green…
"Mr. Malfoy, please take your seat." Professor McGonigal's voice seemed to be coming from very far away…
His seat… Draco glanced up at her, almost as if wondering who she was. Then, he got off his stool, walked a few steps to the left, checked himself, then walked to the right… towards the Gryffindor table.
Some of the students moved a few inches away from him. Others just stared. Draco wanted to return the looks, wanted to dare them to say something _anything_, but he couldn't bring his eyes up to meet them. A single thought flickered across his mind, and he grabbed onto it, holding onto it like a life jacket.
The Hat was punishing him. It knew what he knew about the fire, and it was punishing him for it.
"Granger, Hermione!"
"Oh no." Hermione whispered as she got up and walked to the stool. She was very contained, and very nervious… quite unlike her first time with the sorting hat. However, the moment the hat was placed on her head it screamed, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The whole house, save for Draco, clapped.
On and on, backwards through the alphabit, the sorting hat changed lives, or kept them the same. Rounding out around midnight, the last name was called… the last sorted into Ravenclaw. Dumbledore rose from his seat again, and surveyed the students. The hat had done very good work… the population seemed to be sorted evenly. The aged wizard didn't speak, only nodded his head, dismissing his tired students.
Draco felt sick inside, rising with the rest of the Gryffindors. He swiveled his head, longing to go with his old house, watching them leave until they were no longer in sight. He had to hurry quickly to catch up with his new house. No one spoke to him… then again, he wasn't in the mood to be civil if he had been spoken too. A few paces ahead of him, Harry and Hermione were walking together, both just as silent.
Up and around the familiar corridors they went, until they reached the more unfamiliar areas of the castle. Finally, they stopped in front of a painting of a fat lady. Draco watched sullenly as the new prefect told everyone the new password (Lionfang).
Stepping through the portrait, Draco took one look around the room, and rolled his eyes. It was decked out in red and gold with common sofa's and armchairs in the same colors. A modest fire place roared in the corner, although he didn't think that it helped the décor any. He missed the leather coaches already.
"Don't like what you see, Malfoy?" Hermione asked, staring at him with mild
disgust on her face. It was obvious that she figured the common room was top
notch. Showed how little she knew.
But Draco didn't have the energy to make a cutting remark back at her. Besides, he was feeling suddenly very naked and exposed without Crabbe and Goyle backing him up. "Just tell me that the beds aren't as tacky as the rest of this place…"
"C'mon," Harry moved between the two, jerking his chin up to one of the staircases. "It's this way."
Turns out, Ron was the only boy of his year to be sorted out of Gryffindor, so Draco had to take his bed… right next to Harry's. The small sneer on Draco's face grew into a very large one when he realized this. There was no way he was sleeping next to… to him! "Hey!" He said, turning to Seamus. "Trade beds with me."
Seamus looked shocked for a moment, then shook his head, "No way, Malfoy. You're not sleeping in my bed."
"It wouldn't be your bed. It would be my… oh nevermind." Draco gave up and got on Ron's old bed, pulling the curtains around him so he didn't have to see his roommates. "Twits."
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