Sorting Things Out
As the train pulled into the station voices called down the corridor that "all students should leave their luggage and disembark."
Harry would have prepared to keep his trunk with him, but it was more important to fit in, so he left, with Neville and Hermione joining him.
Somewhat ove a seventh of the students, judging by Harrys estimate, were milling around on the platform, while the rest walked confidently down a path that appeared simply worn from use rather than constructed properly, many chatting with each other in a comfortable manner.
Seeing as they knew what they were doing, and not wanting to just sit around waiting, Harry started to follow them, only to be brought short by a voice calling to them.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
Harry turned to see who it was, and immediately recognised the man he had encountered in Gringotts, Hagrid as he recalled.
He led the others from the train towards Hagrid, wondering why they were so hesitant.
After all, it wasn't as though Hogwarts would keep on a groundskeeper who posed a danger to their students, would they? Even the ninja academy wouldn't do something like that, and they trained people to fight.
"Who do you think that is?"
Harry turned to answer Hermione, while continuing towards Hagrid, "from what I've heard, the groundskeeper."
"Watch where you're going," snarled a boy behind Harry, were he had been sure nobody was likely to walk before turning tto speak with Hermione, as they bumped into him.
Harry turned back to face him, and saw it was a tll and thin wizard, with blond hair much darker than his.
"You could watch where you're going as well," Harry pointed out, not wanting a confrontation quite so soon into the year.
"Wait, Smith?"
It seemed Neville recognised the boy.
"Longbottom, I see you've found a couple of losers like yourself to hang out with," the now named 'Smith' told him, clearly trying to get a rise out of him. When Neville backed down, as Harry hadn't had enough time to boost his confidence properly, Smith just snorted and walked away.
"What was his problem," Harry muttered to himself, only for Neville to give an answer.
"The Smith family are related to Helga Hufflepuff, and Zacharias is very proud of his heritage. I don't think there's ever been a Smith who didn't go into Hufflepuff."
"So the descendant of the kindest sounding founder-"
"I... don't know if Helga Hufflepuff had any children," Neville hesitantly corrected.
Harry nodded at him, "well, the relative of the kindest sounding founder, then, who starts this year is more the image of a stereotypical Slytherin. If he goes into Hufflepuff it will prove that people don't always go into the house they should."
They, and the other first years, followed Hagrid, as he led them towards a lake, or, more specifically, a dock with a number of small, and oarless, rowboats.
The boats may have been of a different design to what Harry was used to, but there wasn't too much difference between different types of boat anyway.
"No more than four to a boat," Hagrid called to them, and around them the other first years chose boats for their groups and got in.
Harry looked around as the three of them made their way to their boat. There were a lot more boats than required for the number of students he could see, something he couldn't help but comment upon to the others.
Neville nodded, a downbeat expression on his face. "Due to the... recent conflict..." it was clear he wasn't sure how to talk about it, "there aren't as many students as usual. It's better than the last few years, but it will be a while before there are as many of us as usual, from what I've heard. Particularly muggleborn."
"Recent conflict? Do you mean what happened with the dark lord you mentioned?"
Neville nodded. "He and his followers had a particular dislike for witches and wizards with non-magical heritage, and the ministry wasn't as good at keeping things secret from them as they claimed."
"You mean they let their enemies uncover their victims more easily?"
"That... isn't how I'd put it," Neville responded.
"This isn't anything like the professor made the wizarding world sound," Hermmione told them, voice shaking.
"It isn't as though they are still active," Neville protested. "And from what gran tells me, the wizarding world has been safer for the last decade than it has been for centuries. The worst sorts of people joined him, and were sent to prison."
"Besides," Harry felt he had to add something, "nobody likes talking about the mistakes they, or their culture at least, have made."
"Everyone in a boat," Hagrids voice called out, cueing Harry to look around and find that everyone was indeed settled.
"In any case, I'm hardly an expert on what happened, it's better to leave the subject to our teachers," Neville assured them. "And this is the first time we'll see Hogwarts, we shouldn't be talking about things like that."
Once Hagrid was sure that everyone was ready he tapped his boat, which he had to himself, with his umbrella, and caused all the boats to start moving without visible cause.
As the boats slid across the lake, the three of them tried to start a conversation again, but the end of their last discussion made it feel awkward.
Soon a castle came into view, placed partially on an overhang above the lake.
Falling from the cliffside was a wall of ivy, despite which the cave inside was visible.
With his prior training Harry was able to make out a natural harbour in the darkness below the overhang, making their destination clear, and identifying the castle as Hogwarts.
The castle looked curious to Harry, with the way it possessed mostly flat walls, with many towers of different heights reaching from various places within the structure, not to mention the curves within the design.
He was much more used to castles that had square or triangular designs throughout, with each level smaller than the last.
"Mind yer heads," Hagrid called to them as they approached the overhang, crouching down himself to get through.
There weren't many students who had a problem with the overhang, mostly those who had been messing about, trying to stand in the boat and the like, who had to act quickly to avoid falling in the lake, something Harry definitely wasn't keen on experiencing.
The boats rocked up against the rocks, and the students followed Hagrids example in climbing ashore.
He led them up a passage in from the cave, and then a set of stone steps to what was clearly the main gates of the castle. He paused, looking back at them.
"Everyone here? Right, le's get to it," he announced and knocked upon the door.
As soon as Hagrids fist had touched the door it swung upon, revealing professor McGonagall.
"The firs' years, professor," he announced.
It felt to Harry like some sort of ritual that had built up throughout the years they had worked together.
Whatever she spoke in response, however, was lost to Harry, from the translation spell not working on her.
Regardless of what she said, she pulled the doors fully open, revealing an entrance hall that felt to Harry deliberately oversized. Flaming torches illuminated the flagstone floor and a marble staircase that led to the upper floors.
However, the torches were insufficient to reveal the ceiling far above, and the professor led them past a set of large doors to their right to a smaller room to the side.
As Harry approached the room with the others, however, she halted him with a hand on his shoulder. She said something to him, which sounded like a question, and sighed when it was clear he didn't understand.
She drew her wand and repeated the translation spell she had used on their first meeting.
Suddenly he was able to understand what everyone around him was saying again.
"Can you understand me now?"
"Uh, yes professor."
"The headmaster had intended to meet you at the platform to cast his translation spell, but something came up with the ministry and he wasn't able to make it. He's planning to use the school wards to cast a version across the school tonight."
With everything she had to tell him said, the professor finished leading the first years into the chamber.
Harry joined them, noticing the way that the others were crowding together despite there being space for many more.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," professor McGonagall began, speaking to all the first years. "The start of term banquet will begin shortly..."
[|]
The headmaster sat at the head of the staff table, looking out over the returning students.
He was pleased to see that nobody seemed to be missing, even with the usual rumours of his insanity or incompetence, rumours that plagued all the strongest wizards, whether their power was magical or political.
It was just his luck then, that he had both and double the rumours.
Given the caliber of teachers he had been forced to employ over the years, he could hardly argue against the rumours of incompetence.
He hid a sigh.
If only they knew the truth behind his seeming incompetence.
Alas that could never happen.
He looked over the staff table, making sure they were all present, except Minerva of course.
As soon as the first years were ready the sorting could begin.
He turned his attention to the door they would enter through, watching for Minerva to appear. When she did, and they signalled to each other that all was ready for the sorting (one of the more useful applications of legilimency if he did say so himself), she headed back to lead the first years in.
He stood, letting his natural presence fall over the hall and bring an end to the students conversations in preparation for the sorting, before sitting down once more.
From his first year seeing students being sorted he had been able to tell that the conversations surrounding them as they entered had done a great deal to make them uncomfortable, leading to many a young Gryffindor to face... disapproval... from their peers for being so nervous at such an event.
And by simply employing his reputation in the most subtle of manners he was able to leave the first years so much calmer for their sorting.
The new students followed Minerva in, and lined up before the table, facing the rest of the school.
He looked over them, picking out Harry (whose past he had chosen to mention only to those members of staff that could be trusted not to spill it to all and sundry {Hagrid was very loyal and a useful subordinate, but he could not be trusted to keep a secret to save his life} and who could talk with Harry about his parents) and Hermione (the first student at Hogwarts without magical parents in years, thanks to Toms followers efforts).
It was comforting to see the year size starting to pick up again as well, he had been worried that the wizarding world might not start to recover from Toms actions for many more years yet, with the way that his curse seemed still active upon the position of defence professor seeming to reinforce the view, but apparently the fears had been unfounded. In any case, the defence contract had been rewritten (finally) to only permit them to hold the position for a single year, which should stop the curse needing to interfere.
At least this year he had had an opportunity to try and research what exactly the curse was, but it was hardly something that could be completed in a couple of months, even with the assistance of the new defence professor and another who could take on the role (if only he didn't have more use elsewhere).
Minerva brought the sorting hat out, shaking him from his thoughts.
He had been getting lost in his thoughts much too often lately, a clear indicator that even he, bearer of one of the Deathly Hallows and holding another in trust, was not immune to the effects of old age.
Idly he wondered how the hat would introduce itself, lifting, at least for the new students, the charm upon it.
From what he understood, the spell was most likely the prototype for the Fidelius.
While the Fidelius would, if cast upon the hat, prevent those not in on the secret from even acknowledging its existence.
Given how the position of secret keeper would spread amongst the whole of Wizarding Britain within a single generation, from how the death of a secret keeper spreads the position to all those they had told, the finalised Fidlius would have been useless at protecting the secret of the sorting hat, not that he was entirely sure why it needed to be a secret in the first place.
Sure, under normal circumstances knowing how they were sorted could enable people to 'cheat' their way into a particular house, but as the hat listened to those it sorted and their desires for a particular house it didn't really make any difference.
But in any case the hat was placed under the charm, and acted as, essentially, its own Secret Keeper.
Sometimes he thought it came from a founders desire to subject each year to the singing the hat possessed, most likely a copy of one of the founders talent in the same area.
He did his best to listen to this years song, but there had been so many over the years that had begun to run together in his memories.
At last the song was over, and he started the applause for the hat.
Once again he wondered when the hat wrote each song, or was there a cycle it ran through, one that covered so many years he had never, as far as he could tell, heard the same twice.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," Minerva told the first years, and the headmaster focused on the here and now again.
He made it a point to keep track of each of his students, and where they ended up.
Hannah Abbott was first, and went to Hufflepuff.
Not unusual for her house.
She was followed by Susan Bones, niece of the head of the DMLE, who also went to Hufflepuff.
Not a surprise to him, given how she had most likely been raised.
Many seemed to feel that Hufflepuff were to be looked down upon, but he more than any understood how anything could be achieved through working hard, or with others.
The sorting continued, with only minor surprises, such as miss Granger ending up in Gryffindor rather than Ravenclaw as he'd first expected, from Minervas talk of her endless questions and thirst for knowledge.
Then again, there was more than one reason to seek knowledge, rather than just knowledge for knowledges sake.
If someone was scared of the world they found themselves in, the obvious reaction was to try and escape, but an alternative was to find if their fears were warranted, and continue on.
Neville Longbottoms sorting wasn't too unexpected, at least until he forgot to remove the hat.
All too often people failed to realise how brave they truly were, as after all fearlessness is being without fear but bravery is what enables someone to move on despite the fear.
The way Draco Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin before the hat had even had time to touch his head was concerning. It spoke of some kind of interference. Most likely some small item charmed to call out Slytherin when it was time for him to be sorted rather than take the chance of him following in the footsteps of Sirius Black, a problem he was going to have to deal with soon.
In any case, it was unfortunate that the sorting hat was unable to reveal what happened during a sorting, or he could make sure later.
After Malfoy there was only one student before it was Harrys turn, one Lilly Moon.
He recalled the family, if only vaguely.
During the war the Potters had saved them from a Death Eater attack, and clearly they had decided to honour them by naming their daughter after one of their saviours.
And finally the name was called by Minerva.
"Namikaze, Harry."
[|]
"Namikaze, Harry," the professor called, and Harry was unable to completely suppress the urge to mutter "at least they got the names round the right way one," before walking up to the stool bearing the hat.
As he placed the hat upon his head it slid over his eyes, much as it had seemed to for the students before him.
With the hat blocking out all light from the hall he was left with just his own thoughts.
How very interesting, whispered a voice in his mind.
Harry froze.
So this is how the hat decided who went were.
Panic ran through him, only for the hat to act quickly to reassure him.
Do not worry, I cannot share your secrets, or even thoughts you wish me to share.
A thought ran through him.
What is so interesting?
The response was immediate. Well, you see...
Omake: The Other Founder
It has been many generations since someone suitable for the sixth house has attended.
Sixth house?
Indeed, the fifth house has been unused for even longer. It is only the first four founders that history remembers.
Harry couldn't help but feel the hat was avoiding the question. Who is the founder for my house then?
You would know them as the sage of sixth paths, the hat answered, but to the people here they are better known as "Myrdain!"
The hall burst into noisy confusion, but it was Hermiones voice that he heard clearest, calling out "wait, Merlin?"
AN: Just couldn't resist the minor cliffhanger, as it was too perfect for the omake (which I had planned, in the broadest sense of the word, for quite a while). Sorry about the dark moments of world-building, the story just went there without me intending to.
For the most part, it's a consequence of there being the list of just forty students in the year, and apparently only one being muggleborn. When you consider things properly, and try to find a justification, things just come together like that.
As for the headmasters musings... I'm really looking forward to the big reveal. I can barely hold back from giving out spoilers. But I am still waiting for people to make guesses about him and why he's acting like this. Or at least for people to mention their suspicions in a review or pm. After all, isn't one of the fun parts of reading about mysterious characters figuring out their motivations and plans?
