Credit to the idea of the Sorting Hat's secret goes to the SuperCarlinBrothers. Because I forgot last time, some of the ideas from the last chapter come from, .Xanda, Athey, itshannieee, and various others.
And, while I'm at it, I might as well say: thank you to everyone who has read this story! Especially those of you who've reviewed; I love hearing back from you!
Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns the Harry Potter series and its universe. No profit is made here and no offense intended.
Chapter 2: Of Acquaintances and Information
Harry's last month with the Dursleys passed rather tediously. His relatives were too terrified, both of his magic and of his new pet, to do anything to him, even force him to do chores, but with all his newfound free time, there wasn't much for Harry to do. He read through his new textbooks within a week, even with his frequent pauses to absorb the new information they prompted, and soon, he was back to reading fiction whenever he could borrow from the public library.
His birthday passed, on the 31st, without much fanfare, though Pallas did manage to smuggle a lost watch as a gift. Before Harry knew it, September was upon him, and school was to start.
He couldn't stop grinning, much to the dismay of his relatives. Apparently, the expression on his face was 'freaky'.
Uncle Vernon drove him to King's Cross grudgingly, dropping him off and driving away as quickly as humanly possible, once they reached the station. It was lucky, Harry contemplated, that he'd purchased the Undetectably Extended bag; he doubted he would be able to carry a full-sized trunk by himself. The bag had been purchased, though, at a store at the intersection between Diagon Alley and the notoriously shady Knockturn Alley, but Harry had found it well worth the purchase. Undetectable Extension Charms were above NEWT-level, he knew.
Platform nine-and-three-quarters, which he would access… by walking through the dividing barrier between platforms nine and ten? Emerald-green eyes blinked in confusion, and for the first time, Harry wondered if his gift was faulty. But no, it was some sort of position-based Apparation spell, on the barriers, that would transport students to the platform, which wasn't actually at King's Cross.
He wondered why they didn't have that sort of spell directly transport students to Hogwarts; it would save a lot of time. And, he was treated to a history of the Hogwarts Express. Of course, the reason why was school secrecy and security.
"-Now, what's the platform number?" Harry overheard, as he approached the barrier.
"Nine and three-quarters," a young girl's voice replied. Harry turned towards the name of the magical platform, said so openly and loudly. And some of the red-haired family, who pushed trolleys with large trunks and an owl, were definitely older than eleven. Why had the plump redhead woman felt the need to practically shout that question?
Ah. It was for the Muggle-borns and their families, in case the professors who arranged their home visits forgot to explain how to access the platform. Each year, certain wizarding families would stage such exchanges to guide any lost children to the platform.
Harry wondered if he should introduce himself. He knew the answer: probably. Not only was it the polite thing to do, but, much like his encounters with Neville and Hermione at Diagon Alley, it would be important for him to find allies and make acquaintances at Hogwarts. Especially if he wanted to find out more about his ability. Slowly, he approached the family.
"Hello," he greeted, and the plump woman turned towards him.
"Oh! Hello, dear," she replied. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." She pointed at the only remaining redhead boy.
"Yes," he answered, then stretched out his hand. He really didn't want to deal with the attention, but he would have to, sooner or later. "I'm Harry Potter. And you are?"
At the sound of his name, all three pairs of amber eyes whipped towards him to stare at his form. And, that was exactly why he hadn't wanted to introduce himself. "Are you really?" the boy, Ron, asked, his voice awed.
"Harry Potter," his sister repeated quietly, her tone reverent.
"My goodness," the woman said, before shaking her head as if to clear her thoughts. "I'm sorry, my dear, that was terribly impolite of me." She paused for a long moment, before answering Harry's question. "I'm Molly Weasley. This is Ginny," she gestured towards the girl, "and Ron. My other sons have already gone through, but there's the twins, Fred and George, and Percy, who's a prefect." She shook his hand enthusiastically.
"Have you really got - you know…" Ron began, pointing at Harry's forehead. Harry withheld a sigh, as Mrs. Weasley swatted at her son.
"Ron. Be polite."
"No, it's perfectly fine," Harry told her, parting his bangs to reveal the sowilo scar. Ron, Ginny, and Mrs. Weasley stared.
"So that's where You-Know-Who-?"
"Ronald," Mrs. Weasley admonished again, using her son's full name this time.
"Yes," Harry replied. He glanced at the barrier again, hoping the Weasleys would take the hint. To his relief, Mrs. Weasley did.
"Well, we'd better get to the platform, first! Harry, dear, do you know how…?"
"Yes," he said again.
"Good. Well, you go first, before Ron. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous."
Harry nodded in thanks to her, then walked through the barrier. He stared, smiling fully once again, at the sight that greeted him; the platform packed with people, and the scarlet steam engine. Hogwarts. He was finally going to Hog-ah!
He hadn't moved out of the way, and Ron had crashed into him, the trolley of the other boy's luggage falling to its side and spilling Ron's stuff.
"Sorry!" Harry apologized, bending down to help Ron pick up his things again. "Sorry, that was completely my fault-"
"No, it's fine!" Ron replied quickly, blushing until his face was nearly the same color as his hair. "I should have been more careful." He paused, before adding, "We'd better move out of the way, before Mum and Ginny come through."
"Sure," Harry agreed.
"D'you… do you want to find a compartment?" Ron asked hesitantly.
Harry shrugged. He would have preferred to sit in silence, and maybe read a book, but if it would make Ron happy… "Sure," he said again, and Ron smiled, relaxing.
The first few carriages were already packed with students, some hanging out of the window to talk to their families, some fighting over seats. Harry and Ron walked down the platform in search of an empty seat.
"Gran, I've lost my toad again," Harry heard a familiar voice say.
"Neville?" he asked, turning towards the boy. If he was going to sit with others, he might as well invite everyone. Not to mention, he thought the shy boy could use a friend.
"Oh! Harry!"
"Harry?" a elderly witch who wore a strange hat with a stuffed vulture on it looked at Neville. She must have been Neville's grandmother, Harry decided. "Neville, would you like to introduce us?"
"Right," Neville mumbled. "Um… Gran, this is Harry - Harry Potter. Harry, this is my grandmother." And now, the old woman, too, was staring.
"A pleasure to meet you, Dowager Longbottom," Harry said politely. Neville's grandmother's eyes widened further at his use of her title.
"Call me Augusta," she said, after a moment. "None of that Dowager Longbottom nonsense."
"Er… Harry?" Ron asked, drawing the raven-haired boy's attention back towards him.
"Right! Neville, Augusta, this is Ron Weasley. Ron, this is Neville Longbottom, and his grandmother, Augusta Longbottom."
"Hi," Ron said awkwardly.
Neville hesitated a moment, before asking, "Have any of you seen my toad?"
Before anyone could answer, a quiet hiss made Harry look at the ground, where a familiar charcoal-blue snake was wrapped around a brown spotted toad. His companions followed his gaze.
"Trevor!" Neville exclaimed. "I-i-is that a s-s-snake?"
Amphibians, like toads, were a major part of a blue krait's diet, Harry knew… §Pallas, don't eat him,§ he instructed under his breath - Parseltongue was viewed as a dark talent, he knew, and he wasn't sure of what his companions would say about it.
§Really? But he looks so tempting… Fine,§ Pallas responded. Harry reached down, and she curled obediently around his wrist as he lifted her off the ground.
"My snake, Pallas," Harry introduced, scooping up Neville's toad with his other hand. "This is your toad, Neville?"
"Y-yes," the boy answered, still staring at the charcoal-blue snake. "I-"
"You have a snake?" Ron interrupted in a small explosion. "That's not on the approved pet list!"
"You have a rat," Harry noted, gesturing towards the far grey rat in a cage atop Ron's trolley. "Only cats, toads, and owls are on the approved list."
§Too fat, and too old,§ Pallas added, examining the pet critically. And too large, Harry added in his mind. He'd give the serpent indigestion.
"Yeah, but Scabbers is really boring! All he does is sleep." Harry's face remained unconvinced, and Ron changed tacks. "Is... Is it poisonous?"
"Yes," Harry replied, slightly peeved at Ron's use of the word 'it'. "But her species is generally non-aggressive. She's a blue krait."
Ron opened his mouth to say something, then cut off. Neville, meanwhile, seemed to be gathering his courage for something.
"C-can I pet it-her?" he asked. Harry smiled at his underlying message, that he was fine with Harry's pet, and at his correction. Neville had said that he thought he wasn't brave enough for Gryffindor, but Harry thought the chubby boy was underestimating himself. Once he got past the low self-esteem, Neville could do great things.
"Sure. She won't bite." §Don't bite him, Pallas,§ Harry added, and the serpent gave a small nod in response.
Slowly, Neville stretched out his hand, to touch Pallas's torso gently. "She's so soft," he exclaimed.
Harry nodded. "That's all muscle."
"Wow," Neville said quietly.
Harry turned to Ron, but the boy shook his head. "Sorry, mate, but no. It-she's too creepy for me." Neville and Ron, Harry decided, represented two ideas of Gryffindors: one, the bold, somewhat rash warrior who was fearless in direct situations, and the other, the kind, supportive figure who was brave by conquering his own fears. Both would be excellent characters of a book. Of course, as Harry knew very well, real people were a lot more complicated than book characters.
"You boys had better get on the train, before it departs," Augusta said after a moment. "It departs at exactly 11:00."
"Right. Thanks, Augusta," Harry said. "Shall we, then?"
The three boys found an empty compartment, though it took the three of them together to lift Ron and Neville's trunks. Ron's brothers, the twins Fred and George, stopped by a moment, embarrassing Ron slightly, before leaving to see their friend's tarantula, which Pallas commented had too many legs to be tasty. Not to mention, blue kraits didn't usually eat insects or arachnids.
Harry listened to the two other boys talk happily, about their various Quidditch teams, though he didn't join in the conversation. A flash of bushy brown hair drew his attention to the corridor outside. He stood quickly, unlatching the compartment door.
"Hermione? Do you want to sit with us?" He couldn't just network to purebloods, after all.
The Muggle-born turned towards him, relieved. "Alright," she replied.
"Harry?" Ron asked from inside.
"Neville, Ron, this is Hermione Granger. I met her while shopping, at Diagon Alley. Hermione, this is Neville Longbottom, and Ron Weasley."
"Nice to meet you," Neville said politely, and then, they were off again, including Hermione whenever they could, though the Muggle-born had no difficulty holding her own in the conversation. Annoyingly, Hermione kept trying to draw Harry into their discussion, but he always skillfully escaped speaking too much. Neville remained the only one who would pet Pallas, but Harry didn't blame the other two. She was a highly venomous serpent, after all.
Around half past twelve, a clattering sounded from outside in the corridor, the Trolley Witch of the Hogwarts Express. Apparently, she'd been around since the 1830s, and was secretly in charge of ensuring that students stayed on the train. He said so to his companions.
"Where did you read that?" Hermione demanded. "It's not in Hogwarts: A History."
"Oh, in some book, I don't remember where," Harry said vaguely, internally frowning. If he wanted to keep his ability a secret, he'd have to be careful about what he said. But, he asked himself, did he want to keep others from knowing? His answer was a resounding yes. He knew nothing about why he knew the things he did, and, ironically, his ability hadn't given him any clues, and if others knew more about it, they could potentially take advantage of it, which would be dangerous for Harry.
Neville treated them all to a wagonload of sweets from the trolley, and they took turns tasting Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans (Harry got a grass-flavored bean, while Ron got sprouts, Neville some dark brown one he refused to name, and Hermione peppermint), and trading Chocolate Frog cards (Ron finally got Agrippa, an ancient Roman wizard and consul to Gaius Julius Caesar Octavianus, to add to his collection from Neville's frog, since Neville didn't collect the cards).
Harry's companions were in the middle of discussing the safety of playing Quidditch when the compartment door slid open, admitting three boys. The obvious leader was a boy with pale blond hair and a haughty expression, while the other two looked uncannily like thuggish versions of Dudley. They didn't look to be any smarter than Harry's cousin, either, though he reminded himself to reserve judgement.
"Is it true?" the pale boy asked. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
"Yes," Harry replied, extending his hand. "I'm Harry Potter, and these Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Hermione Granger."
The boy took his hand and shook it firmly. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. And this is Crabbe," he gestured to the shorter boy on his right, "and Goyle." He looked back towards Harry's companions, and sneered. "A Weasley, a Longbottom, and a Mudblood. Quite the circus you have there, Potter. You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort."
The reaction was instantaneous. Ron stood angrily, his mouth opening to shout at Draco Malfoy, while Hermione gave a hurt sniff and raised her chin like she had at Ollivander's, and Neville cringed back into himself.
A gesture from Harry, though, told all three that he would handle it. "If you're talking about the terribly outdated ideas of pureblood supremacy, then I might have to remind you that my mother was a Muggle-born, and that Department of Mysteries studies have proven that there is no magical difference between Muggle-borns and so-called purebloods. I might also then ask you to leave this compartment, and, should you continue to display such a hostile attitude to my acquaintances and allies, I might have to declare us enemies, thus depraving you not only of my personal connections, but also of any connections my allies might have. I'd advise you against making such a drastic decision on a first encounter."
The boy looked shocked at Harry's statement, but he nodded slightly and recovered quickly, proving to Harry that he'd guessed correctly, with his knowledge of pureblood customs. It was like he'd just said: Harry didn't want to alienate potential allies before they even arrived at school.
"I suppose that's true, Potter. I apologize for my previous statements."
"Tell that to them," Harry said, gesturing to Neville, Ron, and Hermione. "Especially Hermione."
Draco nodded stiffly. "I apologize, Weasley, Longbottom, … Granger."
"I - we, accept your apology," Neville answered formally.
Harry smiled at them all. "Draco, Crabbe, Goyle, would you like to join us, then?"
The remainder of the train ride passed semi-awkwardly, and Harry found himself forced to join the conversation many times to diffuse the tension between Draco and the others. But Draco seemed nice enough, once you got past the pureblood mask and the slightly spoiled exterior, and Harry was glad the boy had decided to join them.
Before long, it was dark outside, and Harry thought he felt the train begin to slow down. They took turns changing into their school robes, since the compartment was comfortably crowded with the seven of them in there. From the looks Draco shot at Crabbe and Goyle, who hadn't spoken even once and who, it seemed, were quite dull, Harry thought the blond was considering leaving behind his two bodyguards.
A voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately." They all stood and filed out into the corridor, and pushed their way onto the tiny, dark platform once the train had stopped.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!" Harry heard a voice call. A lamp bobbed over the heads of the students, taller than a human had any right to be. But, indeed, the source of the voice, a man with a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, was that tall. He stood several heads over the tallest of the students, at least twice as tall as the average human, Harry thought. Was the man half-giant? Somewhat at odds with the man's ferocious appearance was the pink umbrella he carried, but it didn't do much to reassure Harry.
"Who is that?" Hermione asked in a quiet whisper. "How is he so tall?"
"I think he's some sort of servant," Draco replied. "He lives in a hut on the school grounds like a savage, and every now and then he gets drunk, tries to do magic, and ends up setting fire to his bed."
Harry made out Hermione wrinkling her nose. "That doesn't sound very safe."
"Exactly. Father's been trying to get him removed for ages." Draco then blinked, as if surprised that he'd agreed with a Muggle-born.
"I think Mum and Dad have mentioned him," said Ron. "They said he's pretty harmless, and that Dumbledore trusts him."
"What's his name?" Harry asked. Perhaps more information about him would appear in Harry's mind, though for people, that only happened about half the time, and more often than not, it was when the person in question had a criminal record.
"Hagrid something, I believe," Draco said, as Ron answered, "Hagrid."
Emerald eyes blinked at the influx of information. "Oh, him. He's gamekeeper at Hogwarts, though he was expelled in his third year for … for opening the Chamber of Secrets! But Dumbledore argued against the expulsion, and he was given the job so he could stay at Hogwarts," Harry reported.
"The what?" Ron asked, as Hermione, Neville, and Draco turned toward Harry, wide-eyed.
"The Chamber of Secrets?" Draco asked. Harry thought he heard a bit of a stammer in his voice. "Are you sure?"
"What's the Chamber of Secrets?" Ron repeated.
"It's some sort of … weapon, isn't it?" Neville answered quietly. "I think that's what my gran said once. Slytherin left it there-"
"-to rid the school of Mud- Muggle-borns," Draco finished, glancing at Hermione. "Supposedly, before he left the school, after an argument with the other founders, he created a secret chamber deep underground that was home to a monster. Only his heir would be able to open the chamber, and unleash the monster onto Mu-uggle-born students."
"But it's only legend, isn't it?" Hermione asked nervously. "People have tried to find it, over the centuries, but no one has ever succeeded."
"My father told me that it was opened, fifty years ago. And that when it opened, a Muggle-born died."
"And Hagrid was expelled," Harry concluded. They all glanced at the man nervously.
"I can't believe Professor Dumbledore would do that," Hermione said. believe Professor Dumbledore would let him stay," Hermione said at last.
"He didn't believe Hagrid did it, I guess," Harry answered.
"But he would have been tried, in a court, wouldn't he? There must have been evidence, right? And if there was even the slightest chance that he had killed... Why would they, why would Professor Dumbledore, let him stay here?"
None of them had an answer.
"C'mon, follow me - any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!" Hagrid calles, blissfully ignorant of the group's discussion. Exchanging cautious glances, they followed, down a steep, narrow path. It felt like a scene out of a horror movie, Harry thought, somewhat morbidly. Following the convicted murderer into a dark forest in the middle of the night… At least it wasn't storming. Not to mention, he doubted their robes were water-proof. There was a charm that could solve that, of course.
"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called, his voice booming through the quiet, "jus' round this bend here."
There was a loud "Oooooh!" as the narrow path opened suddenly onto the edge of a black lake. Perfect for hiding bodies in, Harry thought. But beyond the lake, perched atop a high mountain, was Hogwarts. The castle looked like something out of a fairy tale, with its windows that sparkled into the dark, starry sky behind it, and its many turrets and towers. To the left of the castle, Harry thought he could make out a set of stands and a few tall poles - a Quidditch pitch. To the right, were the few twinkling lights of Hogsmeade, the village by the station they'd pulled up in.
Another instruction from Hagrid had them all scrambling to form groups for the boats, and since none of Ron, Hermione, and Neville were interested in sitting with Crabbe and Goyle, the three and a tall, skinny blond boy with an upturned nose took one boat, while Draco, Harry, Crabbe, and Goyle sat in another.
Pallas took the opportunity to wake up from her nap, emerging from beneath Harry's robes.
"Harry," Draco said, a strange emotion that certainly wasn't fear in his voice. "That- that's a blue krait, on your neck."
"Pallas? Yes, she is," Harry answered, pleasantly surprised that the boy had recognized her species.
Draco paused a moment, but, seeing that Harry wasn't about to say more, continued, his voice slightly shaky. "That's one of the most poisonous snakes in the world."
"Yes," Harry agreed.
"With a mortality rate of 60 to 70%."
"Mm-hmm," said Harry.
Draco gave a slightly hysterical laugh. "Why do you have a highly dangerous snake around your shoulders?"
"Pallas won't bite anyone unless I tell her to," Harry answered. "And she's my pet. I've already arranged for permission to have her. Would you like to pet her?"
After a moment, Draco agreed, and by the time the boats reached the shore, the charcoal-blue serpent was cupped in his hands.
§This one knows how to hold me,§ Pallas hissed, pleased. §Unlike the pudgy one.§ Harry guessed that she meant Neville.
"Well, just because you-" Hermione's voice rang out from the dark, but she cut off abruptly as the group turned towards her, blushing, and settled for a glare at blond boy who'd shared their boat. Harry noted that both Ron and Neville looked upset at the boy, too. He'd be someone to keep an eye on, the raven-haired boy decided.
Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked thrice on castle door. The door swung open almost immediately, revealing a tall, black-haired, stern-faced witch in emerald-green robes.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.
"She's head of Gryffindor," Ron, who'd joined them again, murmured. "And she teaches Transfiguration. Fred and George say she's fair, but strict."
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," the deputy headmistress replied. She pulled the door wide, revealing a giant grand entrance hall, with stone, castle-like walls, flaming torches, and a magnificent marble staircase. They followed the professor to a small chamber, crowding slightly closer than comfortable.
Professor McGonagall proceeded with a speech, but Harry found himself tuning her out; she wasn't explaining anything new. Instead, he let the information of Hogwarts flood into him. Going to new places was always disorienting, with all the minor details that bombarded him. If it was a one-time event, like going to Diagon Alley, he could usually push away all the details, but since he'd be living at Hogwarts for nine months of a year for the next seven years of his life, he'd need to get used to the place.
"How do they sort us into Houses?" Harry heard someone ask. It was a boy with curly hair, freckles, and rather bushy brown eyebrows.
"I heard it's some sort of test," Ron said nervously. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking." Harry looked at him, bemused. Did they really not know? He scanned the crowd of first-years, all of whom looked terrified. Hermione had begun reciting all the spells she knew, much to the unease of those around her. Harry could tell, from the boy's marble-grey eyes, that even Draco was nervous.
He opened his mouth to speak, but somehow, found the words stuck in his throat. Ah. There was a Fidelius Charm at work. Now that was interesting. He wondered why it had been found necessary to keep the Sorting Hat's existence a secret in such an extreme fashion. Perhaps prior knowledge of how the Sorting worked would mess with the results? He hoped it didn't mess up his own. He had no idea which House he fit in, so hopefully that wouldn't bias the results.
Several people screamed, and Harry turned in apprehension towards the source of their fright. His eyes widened. About twenty pearly-white, translucent ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Immediately in response, Harry's mind flooded with information of history, in the various times the ghosts had been alive.
"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-" one ghost, a fat little monk known as the Fat Friar, who was the Hufflepuff House ghost, said.
"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 really even a ghost - I say, what are you all doing here?"
Well… that seemed suspicious. Unless Professor McGonagall led the first years to a different corridor, each year, Harry doubted the ghosts didn't know who they were. Perhaps the question had been staged? If so, Harry couldn't see why.
"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"
A few people nodded mutely.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the ghost. "My old House, you know." So, it was a promotional opportunity.
"Move along, now." Professor McGonagall had returned. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall, some shooting dirty glares at the professor.
"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall instructed, "and follow me."
The Great Hall was absolutely beautiful. It was lit by thousands of floating candles, cloaked by a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars, with four long tables filled with students along the hall, and a teachers' table at the head. Many other first years glanced up, gasping at the sight of the seemingly non-existent ceiling. Harry heard Hermione whisper, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
They were lead towards the teachers' table, to a four-legged stool, atop which Professor McGonagall put the Sorting Hat. Harry smiled, slightly excited. He couldn't wait for the hat to sing.
For a few seconds, there was silence. Then, the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened - the hat's mouth. Harry could have sworn that it winked, though the hat didn't have eyes, only wrinkles that made a sort of face.
And then it sang.
"Oh, you may 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 Gryffindors 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!"
Harry burst into applause as the hat finished the song, and the hall echoed his enthusiasm. The first years, on the other hand, showed a mix of emotions; some looked relieved, while others stared at the hat, now, in fear.
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
"That would be extremely dangerous and irresponsible," Hermione whispered back. "Still, I'm glad we don't have to perform any magic. Which house do you think you'll be in?"
"Probably Hufflepuff," Neville murmured glumly. "My gran will be disappointed, but she always is."
"I know I'll be in Slytherin," Draco said, though he seemed slightly uncertain, now that the Sorting was upon them. "All my family have been." He sounded, in Harry's opinion, a bit like he was trying to convince himself.
"All my family's been Gryffindors," Ron whispered. "I don't know what they'll say if I'm not."
"I was hoping for Gryffindor," Hermione admitted, "since Dumbledore himself was in it… but I don't know. Bravery can turn into foolhardiness quickly, and I still don't know what he was thinking, letting a murderer stay at a school." Seeing that Harry wasn't about to respond, she asked, "What about you, Harry?"
"I honestly have no idea," he replied.
Draco smirked. "First time for everything, I suppose. You-"
"Shh! Professor McGonagall's speaking!" Hermione hissed. The stern professor had stepped forward, and was holding a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Professor McGonagall said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
And the Sorting began. Crabbe was the first of their little group to be called, and Harry learned that his first name was Vincent. It took the hat a few moments to call, "SLYTHERIN," and Harry wondered if, perhaps, there was more to the seemingly dull boy than it seemed. But even Draco, who, presumably, had known the boy before, treated him and Goyle as furniture, not to be spoken to in conversation. Goyle, whose first name was Gregory, came next, and he, too, was sorted into Slytherin.
Hermione was next of their group to be called, and the girl almost ran to the stool, jamming the hat eagerly on her head. She took the longest so far - not quite a Hatstall, though - but after a few minutes, the hat shouted, "RAVENCLAW!" Harry clapped for her.
Then, was Neville's turn. He tripped on his way to the stool, prompting derisive laughs around the hall, but Harry was surprised to see that Draco hadn't laughed. The hat took a long time to decide, though less than five minutes, and finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" Neville nearly ran off still wearing the hat, but a gesture from Harry reminded him of it.
Draco was next, after a "Macmillian, Ernest," and it took the hat only a few moments before it announced, "SLYTHERIN!"
And then, before Harry knew it, "Potter, Harry!" He stepped forward, ignoring the whispers of his name across the room, and perched, more calmly than he felt, on the stool. The hat dropped over his eyes, and he waited.
"Merlin, child!" a small voice said with a strange tone, in his ear. "Where are your thoughts? What are you?" The Sorting Hat sounded almost … afraid.