A/N: Thanks so much to my two awesome betas, Neecoh and Kirei, you guys are awesome! Also thanks to my two reviewers, Elise Bentwin and Krystal, for taking the time to both review and boost my ego, which I'm not sure my friends will appreciate. But I do. Very much. So thanks!
Disclaimer: So far I only own the plot bunny, which is a shame, seeing as it keeps biting me. It seems to prefer human flesh to a carrot. Maybe if I fed it pudding…
Chapter Two: The Sorting Hat's Song
The staff slowly leaked into the great hall the next morning, grumbling and complaining about the time, seeing as students weren't the only ones who welcomed the extra sleep of summer. Of course, none of them found it to be so bad as they said it was, but all were still very appreciative nonetheless when they found steaming hot coffee in mugs bearing the Hogwarts emblem being served at the table. The large, rounded, wooden table took the place of the usual four house tables, and had been placed in the center of the room. If anyone bothered to notice, they'd see that there were enough chairs for all the staff, and not a single extra.
As the clocks around the school chimed the hour almost the entire staff was present. Dumbledore strode in on the ninth chime, wearing sky-blue robes bearing silver stars that seemed to move around in the corner of your eyes when you weren't looking at them, and a tall, pointed hat with the same magical design. When the staff saw his azure eyes twinkling dangerously behind the half moon glasses he wore, they either shifted apprehensively or waited impatiently for him to speak the plan he'd so obviously thought up.
"My friends," the headmaster said with a nod, scanning the room, "Thank you for joining me this lovely morning. Please, please, do have a seat." Dumbledore gestured toward the table in front of him, sitting down as he finished speaking.
"It has been brought inadvertently to my attention that some think that our older students will be incapable of taking care of themselves when the school year end and they are out on their own," Dumbledore explained to his audience. Heads nodded around the circle in agreement.
"They have shown to be rather immature," commented Professor Sprout, slowly, with a slight frown.
"Rather immature?" Filch quoted. He, too, had been summoned, and hadn't liked it one bit. It was enough to live here half the year with the little pests running around throwing dung bombs in every corner and throwing hexes this way and that, but to have to visit during his break was something he absolutely detested doing. But it got the bills paid and he had food and housing for half the year, so it really did work out for him. "The oldest of the pes- I mean, students- are always the most immature! For the first few years they're nervous, in the next few they're wearing down, playing a few tricks, but by seventh year they think they're so good, so smart, so brave, they do the stupidest things!"
"Really, now?" Professor Binns said curiously and slowly, as one would assume a ghost who taught history would. "They always seem fine in my class…"
Whatever else Professor Binns was going to say was immediately droned out by the words of others as the rest of the table either agreed or disagreed with him. Dumbledore smiled slightly from his seat and watched the discussion for a few minutes, waiting for the right moment to speak. Both sides had now been heard and the discussion was heating up to more of a debate, so he raised his hands, the occupants of the hall falling silent in a matter of seconds.
"It sounds as if my suspicions are correct, and there are a few doubters." Someone started to speak, but the headmaster went on as if he'd heard nothing. "Of course, there are a few who believe the opposite is true," at this, heads also nodded.
"They really can be quite mature at times," Lupin said quietly, not wanting to start another argument, but rather agreeing with Dumbledore. He'd been rehired as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher when no one else stepped up, which was all the better taking into account that he was considered one of the best DADA teacher Hogwarts had seen in years. Of course, being one of the best alive DADA teachers was a definite bonus.
"Which is why I have a proposition," Dumbledore said before anyone could comment on what Lupin had said. Any pair of eyes that had been wandering snapped into position, and locked themselves on the headmaster as he spoke with the simple calmness and softness that gave him the sense of authority he always held about himself.
"It isn't anything, well, dangerous, is it, Headmaster?" McGonagall inquired, knowing nothing about this scheme of his except that it required the help of that school in France.
Dumbledore smiled slightly and his eyes sparkled even more at the question. "It all depends on our students, now, doesn't it?" People exchanged glances at the vagueness of his answer.
"You know, maybe the students are mature enough," one of the new teachers said, unsure of where Dumbledore was leading the discussion.
"Now, now, just hear me out," Dumbledore said as he started to explain. "We need to figure out if the students are ready for life out of school in a manner of ways. So what we need to do is see what they do in different situations. Like, say, if all the adults and creatures who care for them day-to-day just simply… didn't." Dumbledore shrugged with his hands as he spoke the last word. He noted that his audience was listening intently and chuckled to himself silently. "What I'm proposing is that we leave our students to means of their own for a portion of time- now, don't worry, I have a timetable set up for them." With a flick of his wand and a word spoken under his breath, the timetable he had spoken of now floated in the air in the middle of the circle, magically at the right angle for everyone to see. "If they don't complete the anticipated steps within a few days of the predicted time, we come back and teach them what they didn't do correctly. Don't worry, we won't leave them again, we're just giving them that one chance. That's all they get. If they complete all the steps and are at a standstill, we come back and congratulate them. If they overachieve and fly up the steps, we get to sit back and wait a week and watch what they do."
Dumbledore sat back and looked at the staff, all of who were studying the timetable in front of them, mulling over what he had just suggested.
"Professor," Snape drawled in that terribly boring and slightly accusing voice he so often used before condemning some poor Gryffindor to detention. "I find it rather… irresponsible, for lack of better word, for you to be leaving students alone in a magical castle, just to find out if they're "mature" enough, don't you?"
"Ah, yes, it does, doesn't it?" Dumbledore said, surprising the potion's master. "Which is why I have another reason up my sleeves, as always." The headmaster winked before continuing. "But first we have a guest speaker, who, hopefully, will clear my thoughts up for you. Now, without further ado…" Dumbledore flicked his wand, and an old, battered hat appeared in the middle of the table, looking quite smug with its self. That is, if a hat can look smug. Because it certainly seemed to pull it off.
"I give you, the Sorting Hat," the headmaster said with that slight smile of his.
"The Sorting Hat?" Murmurs flew through the hall from teacher to teacher.
Madame Hooch was the one who finally spoke up. "What will a hat, excuse me," she noted to the hat, who merely nodded in acknowledgement, "clear up for us?"
"Perhaps," Dumbledore said with calm authority, "You have forgotten the song it sang two years prior. Some of you hadn't even heard it then." Dumbledore locked eyes with Professor Lupin for a moment. "So I've decided to ask the Sorting Hat to recite a few of the more prominent lines it sang two years ago. If you will…" Dumbledore looked expectantly at the hat, and it cleared its throat.
"Ahem," the Sorting Hat said, straightening itself. The hat spoke it's next words with the authority of someone who'd practiced them over and over. It's voice filled the great hall, daring people to attempt to speak over its clear, perfected words.
"So Hogwarts worked in harmony
For several happy hears
But the discord crept among us
Feeding on our faults and fears.
The Houses that, like pillars four,
Had once held up the school,
Now turned upon each other and,
Divided, sought to rule.
And for a while it seemed the school
Must meet an early end
What with dueling and with fighting
And the clash of friend on friend," the Sorting Hat recited from memory. Silence filled the hall as they waited for that hat to continue. And it did.
"And never since the founders four
Where whittled down to three
Have the houses been united
As they once were meant to be," a soft murmur once again filled the hall, but quieted as the hat spoke its last verses.
"Though I must fulfill 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 external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within.
I have told you, I have warned you.
Now let the sorting begin."
Silence met the hat's words as the staff mulled over the truths and assumptions it spoke.
"So, are you saying, sir, that if we do this, the houses would unite?" Professor McGonagall inquired under a scrutinizing gaze.
"Yes, I do believe they would end up relying on each other, eventually uniting into one group rather than their current four," the headmaster replied.
Once again, the hall was quiet as its occupants thought things over. It would certainly work…
"No," Ms. McGonagall said simply. "It is too dangerous for the little ones. And what about the first years? They're all excited about, well, their first year. Besides, where would we stay?"
"Ah. Both good points, professor, but I have them covered," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling.
The rest of the meeting went without any more "discussions" or debates as Dumbledore explained the details of his plan to the staff. By the end, no one could find any objections to it, and, honest to say, they were all very anxious to see the students' reactions, as well as actions, when they woke up one morning to see the staff… well, gone, to say it simply. And, as Molly Weasley had foretold, this event was going to most certainly account for another, rather large chapter, in Hogwarts, A History.