A/N: I referenced the HP books a lot for this chapter, so if there's anything you recognize, I probably don't own it. Dialogue especially.
Guest: So sorry, I just realized after posting chapter 4 that I forgot to reply to your review on chapter 2! So here's my thanks – thank you for the review, and I'm glad you're interested enough to wonder what's going to happen in this fic. I suppose you already got your answer for "what happens next" hehe, but I hope you enjoy what happens from here on out as well.
Guest (2): Well. I had just written this really long paragraph of how the Sorting Hat sorts based on potential rather than actual qualities (ex. Neville, Hermione, Crabbe and Goyle... sort of), but then I accidentally clicked another page and it was deleted. In any case, I'd like to say thank you for the review, because I really appreciate it! As for Danny's house, I'm honestly not 100% sure yet. I was leaning for Gryffindor, but your review made me stop and think. What do you think would be the merits of each house for Danny? I generally think he'd be a Gryff or a Puff... Well, in any case, I hope that you won't be disappointed with the final decision.
Last updated 1/20/2020 (needs
Chapter Four
Rites of Passage
The Sorting Ceremony is a rite of passage for every young Hogwarts student, inducting them into the House that would determine the course of their life for the next seven years. Though I doubt the integrity of the method of Sorting, I did greatly enjoy my years in the House I was chosen for, and could not imagine myself elsewhere.
Still, I wonder. Why did the founders decide to segregate children?
Oh, we enjoyed the solidarity created by house rivalry, but sometimes it went too far. Discrimination was forefront in the minds of students, and even indirectly encouraged. When the war started...
Slytherin was the house everyone was wary of, the one they watched closely when any sign of ill occurred. This was what had made me wonder. Why create a House that everyone would immediately gravitate to when looking to place the blame? "Ambition", the defining characteristic of Slytherin, could easily be interpreted in such a way.
I'm skeptical that it was the nature of the eleven-year-old Sorted students that led them to perpetuate the bad reputation of the House.
Being ostracized can do terrible things to you.
There is nothing that I hate more, even in my old age, than people deliberately or uncaringly hurting others of their own kind. I find myself wishing that all this violence and hatred and snobbish disregard would just stop.
Unfortunately, I don't have the power to change the world.
Humanity
"So have you thought about what House you'd like to be in?" Hermione asked. The cricketty sound of the train rushing over each connected segment of rail accompanied her voice, like a metronome to her eager outpour.
They were on the Hogwarts Express, a month into their friendship, a month into having been introduced into magic. Now they were almost at Hogwarts.
Danny looked at her in surprise.
"What House? You mean the..." For a moment, he struggled to remember their names, "Ravenclaw, Slithering, Hufflepuff, and er..." He thought he knew what the next one was, but didn't dare to try it out without being certain.
"Gryffindor," Hermione said, not unkindly. "And the second one is Slytherin, not slythering."
"Oh," he said, feeling dumb, "Um, well, do you know which house you'd like to be in?"
"Gryffindor," she said confidently, and Danny couldn't help the surprise that must have appeared on his face.
"Really?" he asked. "Not Ravenclaw?" He did remember something of the descriptions of the houses McGonagall had described to them, and Hermione was indeed the bookish, genius type.
She hesitated before answering.
"Well... not really. It's just, I know I'd fit in there because I really like books and learning, but..."
"But what?" he prompted, and suddenly there was a stubborn gleam in her eyes.
"But there are more important things, aren't there? I don't want my life to be just these stories I read. I want to be part of..." She paused, and the gleam turned more thoughtful, considering. "Well, part of something bigger. With more meaning."
Danny felt a strange sort of yearning at those words.
"And you think Gryffindor can give that to you?" he asked cautiously. She nodded.
"It is the house of the brave, you know." She lifted her chin imperiously. "I want to be brave like that."
He smiled.
"I think I do too."
The compart door opened, and the moment, if it had been a "moment" at all, was broken. A small boy with round cheeks peeked in.
"Have you seen my toad?" he asked mournfully. "I lost him."
Hermione immediately took front and center, her words probably still at the forefront of her mind. "Your toad?" she said. "We haven't seen him, but we can help you look. Do you know where he might be?"
The boy's face lit up.
"Really?" He cleared his throat and attempted to look more dignified. "I'm Neville Longbottom."
"Hermione Granger," she said, "Pleased to meet you."
"I'm Danny," Danny said, then realizing that everyone else had said their last names, "Er, Danny Fenton."
"You'll really help me find my toad?" It was almost tragic how hopeful his voice sounded. Danny couldn't help but feel glad that Hermione had been the one who made the offer, and so Hermione was the one he was talking to. Danny, after all, didn't have the slightest clue of how to handle a situation like this.
"Of course," Hermione reassured him quickly. "What does he look like?"
"Green," Neville blurted. "And fast."
The information wasn't much to go on, but Hermione nodded nonetheless. They'd know it when they see it. There was no point in pushing.
"Okay." She stood up from the seat in the compartment, and Danny followed. "Let's start looking for him then. How about you go to the prefect's compartment and ask them if they know any spells that could help us track him down? Danny and I could then split up and ask the other students if they've seen your toad, like you've been doing."
Danny blinked at her owlishly. Prefect's compartment? He didn't even know what a "prefect" was.
"Alone?" Neville squeaked. He obviously knew what a prefect was. "Can't you come with me?"
Hermione looked divided.
"Well, it'd be much easier if we could split up in different directions..." She turned to Danny. "What if you went to the prefects, and Neville and I searched the compartments?"
"What's a prefect?" he asked.
"Oh!" She looked embarrassed. "They're older students who are in charge of helping us. Er, did you see the sign that pointed to where their compartment would be?"
Danny shook his head.
"I can show you."
They walked out of their train compartment, leaving their luggage inside. No one was going to steal it; after all, it was only the basic school supplies that everyone should already have, and anything else could be tracked down easily. Hermione showed the sign to him, just a few meters away from the entrance to their compartment, and he nodded.
"Okay, so I just have to ask if they know any spells that can track toads?" He looked askance at Hermione.
"Er, yes," she said. "Good luck!" That seemed to be a dismissal, so Danny turned around and walked the direction the sign pointed. He could hear frantic murmuring from behind him as he assumed Hermione was telling Neville the plan. Boy, was she committed when she said she'd do something.
Prefects, he mused. 'Students in charge of helping us.' I wonder if they're nice.
Probably not.
Then he revised his thought.
I mean, if they're in charge of "helping", they can't be so bad, can they?
He could at least try to be optimistic about it.
As he walked, Danny came across another sign pointing the way, and right after it, a particularly noisy compartment, roaring with laughter. He peered through the small glass window curiously.
They had a giant, freaking tarantula. Not just bigger than his hand or greater than average size, but it was gigantic. Like, the size of a ceiling fan. It nearly reached up to the knee of the two red-headed boys inside and of the boy with black dreadlocks. None of them seemed at all concerned, and were in fact laughing.
Wizards were insane.
He backed away uncertainly before they could notice him, and continued on his way.
To his luck, he discovered a prefect patrolling the corridors of the train long before he had reached the prefect compartment.
"Er, I'm looking for a toad, and we were hoping that a prefect could find him?" Danny couldn't help the nerves he felt as he looked upon the older boy, a clear figure of authority with his nose held pompously high and shoulders straightened and proud. The black hat resting on his flame red hair was immaculately aligned, and his badge shone proudly on his chest.
So this is what the prefects are like, Danny thought.
"Of course," the prefect said. "That's exactly what I'm here for. Do you have a description of the toad?"
Now Danny wished that Hermione had grilled Neville more for information.
"He's green," Danny said helplessly, "and fast. I don't know much more. He's Neville Longbottom's toad."
The prefect nodded. Then, taking out a wand and muttering something, he cast a spell.
"Would anybody who sees a green toad report to the prefect's cabin?" His voice boomed, and Danny suspected the message was being relayed throughout the entire train. "Catching the toad and bringing it to the cabin would be very appreciated. Thank you."
The prefect again swiveled his wand, and now when he spoke, his voice was normal.
"He should turn up sometime soon, if he's on the train. Which compartment are you in?"
Danny pointed down the hall, from where he had come. "Maybe ten compartments down? I'm not sure."
That seemed to be enough for the prefect, because he nodded.
"I'm Percy Weasley," he said, attempting a smile. It looked almost practiced on his face, and the hand held out like a businessman didn't help the impression any. "I'm the prefect for Gryffindor this year." His chest puffed up with pride.
Danny shook his hand anyway. "I'm Danny Fenton," he said earnestly. "Thanks."
The smile suddenly seemed more at ease and genuine.
"You're welcome," Percy Weasley said warmly. "Now, if there isn't anything else...?"
"No." He shook his head. "Thank you."
While walking back to their compartment, he discovered Neville, standing nervously in front of another compartment door. He seemed relieved to see Danny.
"Hello," he said. "I heard the announcement. Do you think they'll find him soon?" He looked worried.
"The prefect said that he'll probably turn up soon," Danny said, now grateful for the fact that Percy had indeed said that. "When he's found, they'll send him to us."
"Thank you," Neville said, and he smiled.
"No problem, Nev."
When they headed back to their compartment (Neville had told him that he had been sitting alone earlier, so Danny offered to let him sit with them), Hermione wasn't there. He had thought she would be quicker to come back after hearing the announcement than they had, but she must have gotten stalled, because here she wasn't.
So Neville and Danny talked for a while and hit it off surprisingly well, considering they were both awkward and shy pre-teens. The trolley cart had come by with lots of treats – they only bought a small amount however, since neither really had an abundance of spending money. But they shared the candy and had fun with small talk, chatting about the wizarding world and making wild speculations on what Hogwarts was going to be like.
When Hermione finally arrived, they were involved in an enthused conversation about Quidditch. Admittedly, the enthusiasm came mostly from Danny.
"You don't like flying?" Danny asked incredulously. "But – we're wizards! Isn't the whole point that we can do cool things like flying?"
"I can't fly," Neville said glumly. "I'd probably just fall right off."
"Flying does sound terrifying," Hermione agreed as she walked in, startling them both. Without another word, she plopped herself onto Danny's side of the compartment.
"But – you've never been at least curious?" Danny said dubiously, continuing his argument in favor of welcoming Hermione (the subject of flying was important, after all). "I mean, flying without a care, just the wind in your face, no strange contraption around you except for a broom – "
"You speak as if you've done it," she said dryly, and he looked affronted.
"I have my dreams, you know," he said. "I've thought about it a lot. It'd almost be like going to space – "
Suddenly the words died on his lips.
"Hermione, the wizarding world wouldn't happen to have a space program, would it?"
She stared at him, seeming uncertain. She must have somehow sensed the importance of the question.
"I'm... not sure," she confessed. "I can try to find out though."
Danny thought he already knew the answer: no. Why would wizards be interested in space if they could fly? It seemed like the whole wizarding world revolved around magic, and had no signs of technology. Without a rocket, it was impossible to get into space.
"What do you mean by 'space'?" Neville asked curiously, unknowingly confirming the sinking suspicion lodged in Danny's heart, like a heavy stone carrying all his aspirations only to be drowned by quicksand. Neville had already told him he was a "pureblood," from an old wizarding family, so he knew his question was an accurate reflection of the state of the wizarding world.
He let Hermione explain. She was much better at it.
"It's where all the stars are," she said. "Past the clouds and higher, where there's no air. It's really fascinating, actually; the world we know only makes up a small percentage of what's out there. We live on a planet – earth, you knew that, right? – which is basically a sphere orbiting the sun. Space describes that area all around us, with the other stars and planets out there."
"Oh," Neville said, though he looked confused.
Hermione seemed to recognize the awkwardness of the topic, and so brightly turned to another topic. "Well, I just met Harry Potter," she said, voice chipper.
The reaction was immediate.
"Harry Potter!?" Neville spluttered, seeming almost in awe. "He's in our school year? And you met him?"
"He seemed quite ordinary to me," Hermione was quick to say. "I thought he was a little overwhelmed, to be honest."
"Who's Harry Potter?"
Danny's sudden question prevented Neville's indignant reply that had been sure to come, and they both looked at him shock.
"You didn't read The Most Famous Wizards in Recent History? Or..." Hermione rattled off a list of books so long it made Danny's head spin to even think of it. "Harry was mentioned in all of them, to great detail, I might mention."
"Harry?" Neville said incredulously. "You're on first name terms with him?"
"I don't see why not," Hermione scoffed, but Danny thought she looked the slightest bit smug. "He's just an ordinary boy, you know."
"Ordinary – " Neville was astonished, to say the least. "He defeated the worst dark wizard since Grindelwald!"
Danny didn't know who Grindelwald was, or even that dark wizards existed, but he figured that the conversation had long moved past her grasp on wizarding culture. More importantly, he wanted to figure out who Harry Potter was.
"I know," Hermione defended. "But he was just a baby then. Do you think he even remembers that?"
"Well," Neville faltered, and his resolve at hero-worship noticeably crumbled. "I suppose not."
Danny struggled to put what he had just learned in a comprehensive format.
"So," he said slowly, and the two turned to look at them, "Harry Potter is a wizard hero, who defeated some bad dark wizard when he was a baby, and now he's going to school with us?" Danny vaguely recalled McGonagall telling his family that a wizarding celebrity was going to be attending Hogwarts with him.
"Not just some bad dark wizard," Neville said, then leaned forward as if to share a terrible secret, "Voldemort." He said the name in such a low whisper that Danny could only barely hear.
"Voldemort?" he repeated, unimpressed, and Neville flinched.
"Don't say the name!"
"Er," Danny looked at Hermione for askance, and she shrugged. "Sorry. Won't happen again." What, did something happen to Neville to be so terrified of this wizard? To not even be able to hear his name without flinching?
"It's not just me," Neville said in way of explanation at seeing their confusion."You-Know-Who – he was bad. Everyone was terrified of him, and those who resisted – " He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself as if trying to warm himself up, or as if to hide himself. "Let's talk about something else."
Although still curious, Danny relented.
"Alright. So..." He searched in vain for something to talk about, and his mind invariably turned to thoughts of home. "What are your parents like?"
Neville flinched, and Danny could tell he had hit a sore spot.
That's an understatement.
"Oh, er," Neville seemed to withdraw into himself, then glanced off to the side. "I live with my grandma." Then after a moment's pause, he added empathetically, "She's terrifying."
Danny couldn't help it. He laughed.
"Really?" he said. "How come?"
But Neville shied away at the question, a blush staining his cheeks.
"My parents are ghost hunters," Danny confessed, because it seemed like Neville wouldn't be answering the question and it was somehow liberating to say the words. "Your grandma might be scary, but my parents are insane."
Neville cracked a smile.
"And you know what her parents do?" Danny paused, jabbing his thumb in Hermione's direction and leaning in conspiratorially. "They're dentists. Can you imagine?"
"What's wrong with them being dentists?" Hermione exclaimed indignantly.
"Look," Danny replied, just as heatedly. "They're dentists. Every kid has nightmares about them!"
"Not my parents!" Hermione protested. Danny was just about to retort, when –
"What are dentists?" Poor Neville looked absolutely lost.
"What? You don't have dentists?" Danny was astonished. "Lucky."
"What Danny means," Hermione said, shooting him a look, "is that dentists are a vital part of society. They look after our teeth, and so it just seems strange that the wizarding world hasn't heard of them."
"Look after our teeth? But why?"
"Well – " Hermione began, when a yell and other loud commotion seemed to emit from the compartment next door. She looked concerned. "Do you think they're all right?"
Danny shivered. "You want to check?"
"I think that's Harry Potter's compartment."
"What?" Neville shot to his feet. "He's there?" he squeaked.
"Honestly, Neville –"
Then someone screamed, a high pitched, pitiful sound. They immediately leapt up to their feet and without argument, dashed the small length of corridor down to the next compartment. Hermione was the first to open the door, and immediately three boys, one blond and skinny and the other two thick and stalwart, ran out of the room. They didn't look back.
"What on earth –"
Two boys sat inside the compartment, looking rather worse for wear. Boxes of candy were scattered around the entire compartment, and strangely enough, Danny could spot a rat holding the edge of the train window for dear life, as if it believed it hard enough the arm strength would come and let him cling to the thin rail.
"Did you get in a fight?" Hermione asked disbelievingly. "Already?"
The dark-haired boy gaped at her.
"We didn't!" he protested, and it was self righteous anger that inflamed his cheeks. "It was Ron's rat!"
"I think he's been knocked out," the redhead said mournfully, grabbing the rat from the window, stroking him with his palm as if he felt sorry for the poor creature. Then he took a closer look. "No – I don't believe it – he's gone back to sleep."
And so he had.
"Are you Harry Potter?" Danny asked the dark haired boy, curious. He was surprised by the shock and embarrassment that suddenly appeared on the boy's face.
"Er, yes."
Danny hadn't been thinking of what to say if the boy was Harry Potter when he had asked the question, and so now found himself hanging awkwardly, as expectant faces looked to him to continue the conversation.
"Oh," he said lamely. Harry Potter, at least, looked relieved.
There was a silence, and now both groups stared at each other awkwardly, Neville almost looking on in hero worship. Eventually, the redhead – Ron – turned to Harry Potter, opting to ignore the elephant in the room.
"You've met Malfoy before?"
Harry looked uncomfortably at the three of them, and Danny decided it would be wise to do the same as the red-headed boy.
"Come on, let's go back to our compartment."
Growing Up
Just ten minutes later, they arrived at Hogwarts – or at least, where Hogwarts was supposed to be. By then, their grumbling stomachs had become their primary concern. The candy had helped, but pure sugar alone was not enough to tide them over for the many hours the journey had taken. Neville, at least, had seemed reassured by the return of his toad halfway into the trip, when Percy Weasley had entered the compartment with a stiff smile and magically floated the creature to the boy.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" a giant of a man with a bright lantern in his hand called, and the flood of students spilling from the train suddenly changed course, a living being split in two. Young faces flocked to the large man, while the older students brazenly walked to where they ought to go, already familiar with this terrain. Danny, on the other hand, didn't even have the slightest clue in which direction the castle was supposed to be.
Danny, Hermione, and Neville made their way to the giant man.
"That's Hagrid, I think," Neville said uncertainly. "Grandma told me he's the groundskeeper for Hogwarts, but there was something that happened…" His voice trailed off, and his words became indistinct and garbled at the end.
"What's that?" Hermione asked, but before Neville could answer, the group began moving, and they were forced to stumble forward lest they would be left behind. Hagrid led them through the darkness along a rather craggy path, and at last, they came to a murky lake. The water seemed like a black abyss in the night, stretching on forever, only a compliment to the blackness of the night. Not even the stars seemed to shine that night.
A fleet of boats rested in the water.
"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called. Hermione, Neville, and Danny all clambered into a boat, and another shy first year climbed in after them. They later learned that her name was Susan Bones.
"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, alone in his own boat. "Right then – FORWARD!"
Their first sight of Hogwarts was an experience Danny would never forget. While the lake had seemed ominous before, now it was a grand mirror to reflect the archaic beauty that was the school. It was a castle, perched upon a high mountain with windows that seemed to sparkle like hidden stars. Turrets and towers shot from the roof of the castle, creating an eerie picture of multiplicitous shadows and bright lights. The castle resembled the luminescence of a bright moon against a clear night sky.
That was where he was going to school.
Wizards are awesome.
Maybe, for once, Danny would actually enjoy school, if it was in a place like this, and about magic.
"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid. The first boats were now entering a small cave within the cliff face, covered with ivy. When their boat reached the lip of the cavern, they dutifully ducked their heads. Their boat continued its smooth glide down a dark tunnel, and Danny suspected that they were right beneath the castle now. Soon, they reached a sort of harbor, with rocks and pebbles blanketing the ground rather than smooth sand.
"Oy, you there!" A loud voice boomed, and Danny started because the voice seemed to be projected towards them. "Is this your toad?" Hagrid had Neville's toad in his outstretched hand, and Danny stared at him in amazement. He hadn't even noticed that the toad had disappeared.
"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, and cradled his frog in his arms when he had hopped to him. When he was sufficiently reunited with his toad, the three of them followed the rest of the group up a flight of stone stairs. At the top, an impressive wooden castle door stood before them. It looked like it was made to fend off a siege, it was so large and impressively adorned.
"Everyone here? You there, still got your toad?" Hagrid had a kind smile, with lines on his face that somehow emphasized his gentleness.
Neville nodded eagerly, and Hagrid lifted his gigantic fist and rapped on the door three times. The door swung open immediately, and there stood Minerva McGonagall.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here." Her eyes flitted over the group, and when she found his, he thought he could see the tiniest smile on her face. Then she turned away, pulling the castle door wide open, and led them to a small, empty chamber off the entrance hall. A buzz of nervousness permeated the air as the new students poured in. It was unlike anything Danny had ever experienced before.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "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 house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."
She paused, looking them over, before continuing.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."
Her eyes seemed to linger disapprovingly on Neville for a moment, and Danny was startled to realize that Neville's cloak was fastened under his left ear.
"I shall return when we are ready for you," she said with finality. "Please wait quietly."
Silence. And then –
"Oh, what spells do you think we'll need?" Hermione began whispering. "I know reparo, several others… Do you think – ?"
But Danny was listening to her anymore, eyes wide with fright.
Ghosts had entered the room. Ghosts. His parents had told him stories about ghosts, all the terrifying things – he hadn't believed them of course – but now –
He may have let out a small whimper.
"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance –" the fat ghost was saying.
What?
"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?" This ghost was wearing a ruff around his neck and tights.
Danny's fear vanished when he finally comprehended the scene before him. The ghosts were arguing. And they didn't look particularly threatening at all, perhaps even comical. Were these even the same ghosts that his parents had told him of? These were pearly-white and transparent, not the solid green ectoplasm that his parents collected.
"New students!" the fat ghost beamed. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
Danny nodded mutely. He noticed several others doing the same, but Hermione, for her own part, was simply staring in wide-eyed rapture.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."
"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin."
It was Professor McGonagall. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall. Danny stared after them, wonderingly.
"Now, form a line," she said, and Danny's attention was jerked back to her, "and follow me."
They entered a pair of double doors into the Great Hall of Hogwarts. And indeed, it was marvelous. Thousands upon thousands of candles floated midair, casting eerie shadows over the four tables aligned perfectly parallel to each other, each laden with rich foods and golden goblets and dishes. It was the very definition of opulence, yet also strangely comforting and cozy. At the end of the hall was another table perpendicular to the four, where the teachers sat. Danny could see the silvery light of a ghost emitting from several if the tables.
"Its bewitched to look like the sky outside," Hermione whispered in his ear, so close that he could feel her breath. "I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
Danny didn't answer, instead opting to continue staring at the hall in awe. The first years were now positioned in front of the teacher's table, and they were facing four tables where all the older students sat. He figured, by the banners each table was sporting, that each table represented one of the famed Houses.
Professor McGonagall strode to a solitary stool just in front of the line of first years, and placed a rather rugged, worn-out hat on the stool. The amiable chatter that had filtered throughout the hall suddenly stopped, Danny found it almost unnerving how everybody in the hall stared at the hat so intensely.
The hat twitched.
A line across the brim opened.
The line opened wide to reveal a gap and it perhaps resembled a mouth.
Then it began to sing.
"Oh, you might not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
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.
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.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindor apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"
The entire hall burst into applause, and Danny stood shell-shocked. Suddenly, the hat gained a sort of holy reverence in Danny's mind, and now, despite its raggedy features, it had become the Hat instead.
A singing hat. A singing, sentient Hat.
What. The. Heck.
His thoughts spluttered to a stop. Even after a month of trapezing around in wizard society, it was finally too much to comprehend.
Then McGonagall stepped forward, a long roll of parchment held smartly between her fingers.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A girl with blonde pigtails hurriedly stumbled to the stool, face bright and pink. She sat down and pulled on the hat, and it drooped over hey eyes. An expectant silence, and –
"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the Hat.
Cheers accompanied the announcement, and Hannah walked to the table who had clapped the loudest, sporting golden and blue banners.
"Bones, Susan!" McGonagall called out. It was the girl from the boat.
The queasy feeling that had disappeared since the Day of Decision suddenly came back in full force, as Danny realized that he would have to walk up there, with everybody in the hall watching. He glanced at Hermione – why did she look so excited? – but instead found his reassurance in Neville, who looked just as terrified as he felt.
"It'll be fine," he tried to whisper, but he didn't Neville heard him because at the same time, the Hat called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!" and the accompanying cheers undoubtedly covered up any sound he could have made.
"Boot, Terry!"
Hermione seemed to have noticed, however. She turned to him and attempted to give him a reassuring smile, although the effect was slightly lessened by the eager bounce in her movements that betrayed her insincerity. He understood, he really did, but it just didn't make him feel any better.
She said something. He didn't hear.
"What?" he asked.
"RAVENCLAW!" the Hat screamed.
"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"
He could see Hermione's mouth moving, but still couldn't make out the words. He shrugged and smiled for her anyway, because it wasn't likely he would understand anytime soon anyway. Seemingly satisfied, Hermione turned away to continue watching the Sorting.
"RAVENCLAW!"
"Brown, Lavender!"
He suddenly regretted his actions, because now there was nothing to distract him from the nausea building in the pit of his stomach, and the nervous butterflies that accompanied it.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"Bulstrode, Millicent!"
The Hat had barely touched her head when it called, "SLYTHERIN!"
Danny found his heart racing, blood pumping to his head so fast that he felt dizzy. The room, which he had just a minute ago thought was so cheerily adorned and lit by its thousand floating candles, seemed to darken before his eyes. He dreaded the moment when McGonagall would call his name.
He still had time. The last name called had started with a B. He had time, he had –
"Daniel Fenton!"
He gulped. He wasn't ready for this. He felt the eyes of seven hundred students on him as he walked through the aisle, knees weak. He was sure if he looked down, he would find them shaking, and his hands in tight fists. But he kept his eyes steadfast and forward, narrowed in onto the velvet black of the Sorting Hat as it seemed to indomitably expand and envelop his vision. The silence was deafening, but he felt like everyone was laughing at him, wondering who this new freak boy was –
At last, he reached the stool.
"Mr. Fenton?" McGonagall asked softly, and he felt a squeeze on his shoulder. "Are you alright?"
He didn't look at her, still staring at the Sorting Hat.
"Yeah."
Then blackness covered his eyes, and he knew the Hat was resting over his head. How embarrassing, he thought offhandedly, my head isn't even big enough to fit the Hat properly.
Or was that a good thing? He wasn't sure.
"Aha!" A small voice in his ear suddenly exclaimed, and he jumped, startled. He realized it must be the Hat, and then belatedly remembered how the Hat had sung earlier and had called out those names so of course it could talk. "Not the brightest child to pass through Hogwarts, are you?" The Hat seemed to hum in contentment for a moment. "I do appreciate the significance you seem to have given me in your mind, however."
What? That was incredibly rude.
"Erm…" Danny cleared his throat to reply to the Hat, no, lowercase hat, but suddenly his throat felt too dry and he found he didn't even know how to reply. The, hat could read his mind? He supposed it made sense, and the song did imply that, but –
"Ah, yes, not a Ravenclaw. There is a thirst for acknowledgement, oh yes, I can see that – but not quite enough for Slytherin. Hmm. What to do with you? Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor?"
Bewildered, Danny thought back to Hermione's words back on the train. How she wanted to be in Gryffindor, because it would make her brave.
"Indeed." Danny sensed almost a gleeful feeling from the hat. "In that case, better be –
"GRYFFINDOR!"