Erasing Time's Tracks
Chapter 9
Disclaimer: This work of fan-fiction is not intended for personal profit. All characters utilized herein which are not creations of myself belong to J. K. Rowling.
- - -
Draco Malfoy debarked from the train along with the other first-years, ensuring that Crabbe and Goyle stayed with him, along with Pansy. The big half-giant, Hagrid, was already bellowing, "Firs' years this way!" as they stepped onto the soaked, dark platform, to make their way out to the boats that would go across the lake.
The foursome sat in a boat, huddling in their robes as Hogwarts loomed massively before them. Hardly had they set foot on dry land again when they were presented to the stern Professor McGonagall, and the young aristocrat, never that fond of the Deputy Headmistress, nevertheless felt a rush of giddiness as he noticed that her hair was still black in some places, and the marks of stress and aging were gone from her face.
The nervous new students trooped down to an antechamber near the Great Hall, which they then entered after a brief overview of the rules. They stood in a queue near the stool, where Draco knew the Sorting Hat would be placed.
McGonagall placed the tatty hat solemnly on the stool, and it ran through its song, which had not changed from last time.
A Hat that had quite the hidden range of talents reached out, and saw the minds of the first-year students. It began to catalogue possibilities, determine who would go where, for later verification when it would get a closer look at their minds.
It noticed a strange influence at work; one boy in the crowd was different from the rest, in some manner it couldn't yet determine completely. But that boy's desires were clear: he wanted to change things in some way, ways that the Hat had privately agreed would work better in the long run.
With the benefit of a thousand years of Sorting, it decided to help things along.
Minerva McGonagall held the parchment before her, and firmly said, "Abbott, Hannah!"
And so the Sorting began...
oOoOo
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione Granger nervously stepped forward, feeling a bit foolish after having muttered any number of spells under her breath before she realised the Sorting was based on the use of a Hat that somehow analysed people.
As she sat on the stool, and felt the hat envelop her face, she heard a rather amused voice.
Well, well, Miss Granger. I see I was not mistaken about your intelligence and aptitude for learning.
I think I should like Gryffindor, if you please, or Ravenclaw.
Ah, now there is the rub, Miss Granger. For I see a certain latent ambition in you; you have had the desire to prove yourself the most intelligent, the most mentally agile of all, from a very young age. However, if I may take a step back and put this in a broader context, the wizarding world has become too complacent in recent decades. It's far past time that the winds of change blew through Hogwarts.
It is true that the wizarding world is more conservative than the Muggle world, but from what it sounds like, you want to put me in… Slytherin.
That is indeed my plan. I do not share Salazar's prejudices, and I think it high time to upset the apple cart, as you Muggleborns say. Mister Potter, your friend, has a very strong mental aptitude for Slytherin, incidentally. If he plays his cards right, you and he could orchestrate quite the brilliant plan to remake Slytherin.
Nervously, Hermione Granger took the plunge.
Then I will take Slytherin.
Be warned, Miss Granger. If you choose this, you will be subject to scrutiny and ostracism from within and without Slytherin. But the rewards can be far greater than the trials and tribulations you will endure. If you have any doubts, I will send you on to Ravenclaw.
Hermione Granger's stubborn force of will in the face of all adverse circumstances rose to the fore. She set her jaw and mentally replied frostily, Slytherin it is. I'll show those so-and-sos.
Then it is settled. You shall be the first of four to reform—
"SLYTHERIN!"
Jaws dropped throughout the Great Hall as Hermione Granger, Muggleborn witch, the smartest of her generation at Hogwarts, primly took the Hat off her head. She then sat at the Slytherin table, firmly eyeing the several older Slytherins who looked at her with contempt.
oOoOo
"Malfoy, Draco!"
Draco Malfoy had been gobsmacked when the Sorting Hat placed the Mudb… Granger…in Slytherin. Clearly it had recognised some kind of driving ambition in her that his conversation with her had somehow awakened, or redirected, that would otherwise have put her in Gryffindor.
Warily, he stepped forward, thinking, I need to speak to the Hat, I need to speak to the Hat, as he put it on.
A Malfoy who is not so keen on Slytherin, I see.
Why did you put Granger in Slytherin? She's a Mudblood, for Merlin's sake. Everybody will shun her, and abuse her!
Orchestrating your plans, already, Mr Malfoy? Yes, I see all that is in your mind. You were Sorted once, and it had consequences you could not have foreseen. But I will not let you get off so easily. Your own choices played a role too. Legilimency is a talent the Founders placed in me, and as much as Miss Granger might have felt at home in Ravenclaw, there is an iron determination in her that simply cries out for Slytherin. She seemed to accept that, and allowed my placement.
But how in Merlin's name am I supposed to make the rest of my House back off from her? She's one hell of a smart witch, and it'd be a shame to waste that talent.
You are the one trying to remake the world, not me.
Sod you, Hat.
In any case, I see you have plans that involve a certain black-haired boy, and like it or not, you have been saddled with Mr Weasley. I see that in another world, I Sorted the Potter boy into Gryffindor. This is at odds with his intense desire to prove himself, so I cannot see how I made such a mistake – unless, Mr Malfoy, he, like you, discovered that arguing with me could produce better results, at least in the short term.
You actually think Potter was destined for Slytherin?
There is no doubt. Incidentally, I think you have seriously underestimated young Weasley. The boy is a chess player, and those who play chess usually show a fair degree of strategic thinking.
All right, then. Frankly, I would prefer a Weasley that I could enjoy trading barbs with.
Then I shall have quite the surprise for Mr Weasley. As for yourself, what shall it be?
Well, in the end, I think I should like Ravenclaw.
I'm sure you would, but your plans and ambitions are worthy of the greatest—
"SLYTHERIN!"
Shit.
Oh, don't mind me. Now do be a good boy and take me off your head.
Draco looked around at the group of students, and none looked particularly put out that the Hat had seemed to take its time deciding where he would go. If asked, he would just say the Hat had wavered between Ravenclaw and Slytherin before finally placing him.
But what the Hell was he going to do about Granger? He had never heard of a Mu… well, Muggleborn getting sorted into Slytherin. Maybe they'd just kept very quiet about it? Maybe Professor Snape would know.
oOoOo
"Potter, Harry!" was called.
A wave of anticipation built throughout the hall as a perplexed and nervous Harry Potter sat, the Sorting Hat very nearly enveloping his entire face.
Hello, Mister Potter.
Hello, Mister Hat.
My, a polite one, I see. So, where shall I put you? Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, too. I should think, on balance, that Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness.
What exactly do you mean by that?
You caught that, I see. The problem, Mister Potter, is that 'greatness' takes no account of evil or good. Your Muggle Adolf Hitler is considered 'great' in the sense that he made his mark on history. Equally, your Muggle Franklin Roosevelt, for vastly different reasons, is also considered 'great'. It will be up to you, Mister Potter, how you use your talents and abilities. I would suggest that you stand by Miss Granger, however. She has been sent along a difficult path, the path of erasing useless prejudice and division. I will warn you now, Mister Potter – being a Slytherin has a tendency to make others wary of you. Especially if you ever choose to reveal that you can talk to snakes.
Snakes? What's so special about snakes? And yes, I'd rather be 'great' for good things than bad. What idiot wouldn't?
If I may be forgiven for pointing out the blindingly obvious, you should research how a certain person named Tom Riddle got his start here at Hogwarts and beyond. In any case, I do believe it is Slytherin, then?
Yes.
"SLYTHERIN!"
And the Great Hall broke out in murmurs of surprise as the green-eyed boy made his way to sit next to Hermione, across from Draco at the end of the table. The grey-eyed boy nodded slightly at Harry, then turned his head back to the Sorting.
oOoOo
"Weasley, Ronald!"
Ron Weasley wasn't sure what to say. Both Hermione and Harry had gone to Slytherin! And Muggleborns had an especially hard time there, from what he knew – his Dad had known one who had gone through Slytherin in the 1960s, and the boy had been very lonely during his time at Hogwarts. Some half-bloods had tried to be friends with him, but the purebloods who ruled the House had been adamant about shunning the boy.
Well, blast it, he'd have to see about being there to protect Hermione, wouldn't he?
As the Hat enveloped his head and nearly covered his face, he heard the voice.
Ah, a Weasley, eh? Normally I would shout "Gryffindor!" and be done with it, but I see you want to be like your friend Mister Potter.
What… what do you mean?
You have felt somewhat unnoticed in a large family. You would like to prove your worth and strike out on an independent path. That is the mark of a Slytherin.
Ron steeled himself, and tried to suppress his reflexive dislike of Slytherin House. He'd promised Harry he'd stick by the bloke, and he meant it.
Well, let's get it over with then.
If the Hat could have had a face, it would be radiating with amusement.
And so we shall. However, I have to inform you that should you think about setting foot in Slytherin, you had better be prepared to use those chess skills of yours for a lot more than just trouncing your dragon-taming brother. You'll be dropped into a House for which the pureblood traditions still mean something, even if your family largely pays lip service to them now.
I'm ready.
Good.
"SLYTHERIN!"
The Great Hall murmured as the first Weasley in generations went to the snake house. Some Slytherins muttered "blood traitor", while others privately considered the possibility that this Weasley might bring some interesting times ahead.
oOoOo
The Sorting ended with Blaise Zabini going to Slytherin like last time, Draco observed.
Draco had felt like bellowing his relief to the stars when he had realised that Potter had gone to Slytherin, and had been surprised when Weasley had actually been Sorted there. He had looked up at Professor Snape, who seemed surprised and worried at the announcement when Potter had been Sorted, and then looked at Dumbledore, who seemed to be frowning. Draco's relief vanished as he mentally groused about stereotypes and preconceptions.
Draco switched seats and sat on Potter's right side, with Granger on the green-eyed boy's left, followed by Weasley. Crabbe and Goyle sat to Draco's right. Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini sat across from them, and while Blaise had the grace to shut up while dinner materialised on the tables, Nott was gauche enough to say, "What the Hell do you think you're doing, sitting next to a Mudblood, Weasley? Even though you're in Slytherin you still have to be a blood traitor, don't you?"
Potter, Granger, and Weasley all looked up as one at Nott. Draco affected a disinterested face, and Crabbe and Goyle looked up, noticed Draco's apparent lack of interest, and went back to eating. The blond inwardly swore to himself as he wondered why Nott had to be a complete idiot. Slytherins never turned on each other in public!
However, Potter's eyes were doing something interesting. Somewhat like that day in Madam Malkin's, when Draco had noticed that intensity that marked the Chosen One, his eyes were radiating intensity as he stared flintily at Nott. Granger was looking daggers at Nott, while Weasley, of course, was completely outraged, and growled, "Shut up!"
Nott apparently noticed Potter's eyes, since he seemed to shrink back a bit. Draco looked pleadingly at Blaise, who elbowed Nott slightly and pointed at the boy's plate. Draco guessed he was telling Nott to eat before the food disappeared.
At that moment, the Bloody Baron showed up near the table, startling the first-years as he surveyed the table, then said in his rasping tone, "Welcome, new Slytherins. Welcome, indeed. I trust you all will help continue the proud Slytherin hold over the House championship."
Gobsmacked, all the first-years nodded as one, and didn't say a word as the Bloody Baron took up a spot near Theodore Nott, who had incautiously left too much room between him and Daphne Greengrass.
After the feast began, Blaise, Draco and Harry began talking. It transpired that the latter of the three had never been out of the country before, and the two pure-blooded boys kept him entertained with stories of travel to exotic locations.
Draco particularly remembered Quirrell with that stupid turban was sitting at the High Table, and so guessed correctly what had happened as soon as Potter happened to look in that direction, clapped his hand to his head, and yelped, "Ouch!"
"What happened, Harry?"
"My scar…"
"Has it ever hurt before?" Draco asked, somewhat concerned.
"Well, er, no."
"That settles it. We are talking to Professor Snape after the first-year orientation, all right?"
"Draco, I'm sure it's nothing, really."
"Harry, we are going to see our Head of House."
Luckily, Harry seemed averse to getting into an argument, and he went back to eating industriously. Weasley and Granger seemed to have settled into desultory, if uneasy, conversation given the stares from several members of the rest of Slytherin.
Now that Draco had heard more about Potter's home life, he realised the bespectacled boy owed his short stature and eating habits to something clearly indicative of the same ilk that affected some of his fellow Slytherins – the insecurity that came with child abuse. He had heard, indirectly, of the recourse Professor Snape had taken in such matters.
Traitor to Dumbledore or not, the man was protective of his Slytherins and he would help Potter out, if he had to. Now to make sure the two didn't strike fireworks off each other…
Even as Draco thought this, the feast ended, and Dumbledore got up to make his beginning-of-term announcements. The Weasley twins got their gentle reminder about the Forbidden Forest, and then he rattled on about Filch, Quidditch trials, and the third-floor corridor. Draco wondered, as he had previously, why the right side door was the important one.
Too late, Draco remembered the school song. Wincing in agony as he heard his fellow students butcher all sense of rhythm and proper singing, he mumbled the words as quickly as possible, and tried not to indulge the impulse to hex the Weasley twins for that bloody funeral dirge.
The path to the Slytherin dungeons was pretty much as Draco remembered, with two trick staircases lengthening the journey slightly as they trotted along a corridor one level up from the path to the dungeons, then went down the mate to the first trick stairway that had prevented them from simply going straight ahead.
The prefect, Terence Higgs, stood before the blank stone wall, which was marked only by a rather strategically placed piece of moss on one stone. He said, a bit pompously, Draco thought, "Ducat Lex."
The hidden door slid open, and again, the familiar rush of memory came to Draco as he saw the Slytherin Common Room. Four well-appointed couches made a square around a polished oak table, while numerous study carrels (chairs with smaller tables, strategically placed so a student could sit with his or her back to at least one wall in the room) dotted the room. The whole room was done in the familiar silver-and-green motif, with a gigantic wizard painting of Salazar Slytherin over the fireplace. The air felt a bit cold and dank, and Draco remembered that the Slytherin dorms actually extended out somewhat underneath the lake.
Slytherin seemed to be eyeballing Granger with a bit of distaste, and Draco fervently hoped he wouldn't shoot his mouth off and start calling her a Mudblood.
Higgs spoke loudly, getting the first-years' attention.
"Attention, all of you." He said. "You've been shown the way to the Slytherin dorms. You will have noticed that the Potions classroom is not far from here. Our Head of House is Professor Snape, and he teaches Potions here at Hogwarts. He'll be coming here in a few moments to give you all instructions for proper Slytherin behaviour.
"One important piece of information I will emphasise right now is that you must not give the Slytherin password to anyone outside of Slytherin, and do not speak it in front of anyone who isn't a Slytherin. Furthermore, memorise the way here by noting landmarks on the way, because it never pays to be less than fully aware of where you are in school. Lack of awareness can lead to bad consequences for you, if members of other Houses take it into their minds to hex you in the back.
"Finally, the password changes every week. Make sure you get the new password from me, or one of the other Prefects, as quickly as possible after the change. The rest of your orientation will be handled by Professor Snape. For now, take seats on the couches.
"Oh, and Nott?"
The taciturn boy, startled, looked at the Prefect. Higgs said, with a touch of steel in his voice, "Don't fight with other Slytherins in public. I overheard your little display in the Great Hall; even if Weasley's Dad is a blood traitor and the girl is a Mudblood, they're Slytherins. If you have problems with them, keep them in here. Understood? Nott? Granger? Weasley?"
All students nodded, Nott looking a bit ill, Weasley wearing a guarded expression, and Granger warily eyeing both Nott and Higgs before realising, as Draco did, that for now, a truce was declared.
Higgs said, "That's all. Sit down."
The students then swiftly moved to the couches. Draco was flanked by Crabbe and Goyle on the couch opposite the fireplace, while Harry Potter sat next to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger, Blaise taking up the last space on that couch. The other first-years distributed themselves about evenly, and waited for the door to open…
- - - - -
Severus Snape, on his way back to the Slytherin dungeons, reflected on what had happened earlier that night.
Severus's eyes had widened just a fraction when Hermione Granger was Sorted into Slytherin. He cut a quick glance over to Headmaster Dumbledore, who seemed rather unworried at the prospect. Of course, the old Headmaster wouldn't be the one to have to deal with the balancing act now required in discouraging overt displays of pureblood blockheadedness while not seeming to unduly favour the Muggleborn student. He only hoped she had the brains to merit being a true Slytherin and would put some of the more ignorant students in their places without his intervention.
Draco Malfoy had been no surprise – really, the only slight cause for concern was that the Hat took a few moments before Sorting the boy. That could well have been the Hat debating over Ravenclaw versus Slytherin – the boy did have a natural aptitude for learning Potions theory and how to brew potions given only a list of ingredients.
Harry Potter. Harry blasted bloody Potter. Of all the people! Slytherin!
Severus had nearly given the game away and given himself whiplash looking over at Dumbledore. As it was, he'd cut a sharp glance over to the aged Headmaster, and noticed the old man's concerned look at that particular Sorting's bizarre result.
He had tried. He honestly had tried to be level-headed when the old man had called him into his office the night before. He remembered that discussion.
"Severus, I have asked you to come here, to warn you that Harry Potter is about to attend Hogwarts."
Gritting his teeth, Snape said, "And you have taken up my time calling this meeting, for what reason?"
Dumbledore steepled his fingers and looked over his glasses.
"You know why, Severus," he said. "You have never made a secret of your dislike for James Potter, and I fear that dislike has not ceased one iota. The boy remembers very little, if at all, of his parents. He resembles his father greatly. You must not allow that to interfere with the duty Lily and I have charged you with. Keep the boy safe."
Lily Evans had been smart enough to demand an Unbreakable Vow from Snape, as part of the price to be paid for relaying what he knew of the prophecy to the Dark Lord. She had charged him with the task of keeping her son safe in the event his parents were unable to do so. She had been kind enough – by her standards, anyway – to restrict the Unbreakable Vow to physical harm which could endanger the boy.
That meant he wouldn't be forced – Merlin forbid – to be a foster parent, or some such rot. But he had been willing to just about anything for Lily...
Severus hadn't acquitted himself well with Dumbledore. He had stood abruptly, saying, "I must leave. Immediately." He'd whirled around, deliberately billowing his robes, and clattered down the stairs and past the gargoyle to go back to his rooms in the dungeons.
And at the Sorting, he had tried to not grit his teeth, but Harry Potter had reawakened all the old memories. How could an eleven-year-old boy who remembered nothing of his parents (if Dumbledore's word was to be taken as valid) yet be so... infuriating at first sight?
After the dinner and conclusion of term speeches, Snape had urgently buttonholed the Headmaster, asking for a brief meeting before going to instruct his Slytherins in the House's ideals. Ideals, which, he ruefully admitted, never actually said a blasted thing about blood purity, but which too many seemed to take for granted, even the half-bloods who should have known better. Ambition – oh, yes. Cunning? Intelligence? In spades.
Although Crabbe and Goyle might yet defy all those categories; the Hat should have put them in Hufflepuff or even Gryffindor, but being Draco's retainers, the Hat had dumped them in Slytherin along with him.
And Lucius sodding Malfoy. Merlin, but that officious twit who had bought his way out of a trial, while Severus had nearly gotten dumped into Azkaban after being roughed up by some Aurors, had sent him a high-handed owl post instructing (instructing!) him to keep an eye on Draco and report back regarding the boy's activities. Of all the types Severus hated, it was the ones who dared to instruct him, a Potions Master, that truly raised his ire. His Mastery of Potions certificate, issued in 1979, was one of the few achievements Severus was genuinely proud of, having been awarded in recognition of his exacting, diligent work in developing innovative potions of various kinds.
Severus Snape would be blasted if he would play unthinking lackey to that arsehole.
At least Dumbledore tried not to throw it in his face that he had kept Severus from a fate worse than death (he shuddered as he thought, Azkaban), and let the man get on with his work at Hogwarts, intervening only sporadically when disputes between him and non-Slytherin Heads of House threatened to get out of hand – mainly with Sprout and McGonagall. Flitwick the Ravenclaw could argue rings around Snape, and he'd had to concede more than one case of excessive points deductions, although in the main, Ravenclaws were quite rule-abiding and followed directions with due alacrity.
All this had run through Severus's mind as he stood at the gargoyle alongside Dumbledore, waiting for it to leap aside and let the two men enter the Headmaster's office.
The old man took his usual seat, and smiled benignly at Fawkes, who preened and warbled a bit. Severus took a chair opposite, and waited for Dumbledore to pop a sherbet lemon into his mouth.
He said, "It seems I am too fond of these wonderful candies. In any case, I confess to being as surprised as you apparently were about the results of this year's Sortings. Harry Potter – I freely admit I expected him to follow his father into Gryffindor. But, nevertheless, he is in Slytherin. Severus, speak honestly. I will have the boy re-Sorted into Ravenclaw if you have any doubts about your ability to deal with him."
Severus kept his voice level as he said, "Headmaster, if you are intent on giving the boy excess privilege and laxity with respect to the way things are done, you might as well put him into Gryffindor. Heaven forbid one of Minerva's little lions be any less than golden and precious! Is it not a curious thing, Headmaster, that one of Gryffindor's colours is gold, while Slytherin's is silver? Both precious, both valuable, yet gold is treasured far more than silver, is it not?"
His nostrils flared, and he continued.
"But I will make it a... project. I will prove to you that Slytherins can be just as golden as your Gryffindors, and if it means I have to put up with the boy, so be it."
Dumbledore solemnly replied, "Severus, I suspect you may find the boy will not trust people easily. I am not at liberty to say how I know, but you may believe with complete certainty that he is fairly self-reliant."
Severus ground his teeth and said, "Fine. Now what about this Granger girl? I know she's a Muggleborn, Headmaster. No pureblood or half-blood family with that surname has been extant in wizarding Britain in generations. If she has any magical ancestry at all, it probably is a Squib somewhere far back before Hogwarts was even founded. Do not expect me, Albus, to become the next defender of Muggleborns everywhere when you know as well as I do how eager some of those blasted dunderheads in my house love scurrying back to their parents to report on everything from whether I pick my rather large nose during class, to what I eat for breakfast in the morning.
"The phrase, 'snake pit' was never more aptly used when referring to Slytherin House; that I will freely concede to those who dislike it. All I can do, Albus, is try to be subtle and stick strictly to Hogwarts rules regarding students who bully others. Can I count on your backing in this matter? I want to make it abundantly clear even to the likes of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle that it is at your apparent insistence that I punish anyone who harasses Miss Granger."
The old man nodded and said, "I agree, Severus. If you like, I will make a written announcement and have you read it to all of Slytherin House. That will keep most of the criticism away from you. I am used to getting complaints from parents; this will be no exception."
Dumbledore scratched away at some parchment, and then cast a drying charm on it before handing it to Severus.
The Potions professor stood up and said, "I have delayed too long already. I must head down to the dungeons for the first-year orientation. One last thing – I expect Molly Weasley will not be too pleased to find out her son has been placed in my house. I do not look forward to her Howlers, Albus."
The Headmaster just sat back and did that infernal twinkle as he said, "Severus, I am sure your concerns are misplaced. However, I will have Minerva keep an eye on any Gryffindors who harass Mr Weasley due to his House. This year will be fascinating, won't it? My, I've never felt so briskly alive at my age as I do tonight!"
Severus's mouth twisted as he said, "And I shall have to bear the brunt of repercussions of this sudden change in Slytherin. I can only imagine the letters I'll get from pureblood parents insisting I make sure no 'Mudblood contaminate their precious child', or some equally idiotic rot."
"Send them on to me. I shall simply say that I cannot re-Sort someone to suit the whims of others. Incidentally, keep an eye on your Slytherins, Severus. One of them might get the idea that I would overlook use of the Imperius Curse to force Miss Granger to request a re-Sorting."
Severus felt chills go up and down his spine as he realised that scenario could well play itself out if one of the older Slytherins indulged his or her knowledge of Dark Arts. He made a note to keep an eye on the girl, even if he couldn't directly do anything for her.
After all, a Slytherin protects his own, and Severus Snape was not about to let that tradition die out. He strode up to the unmarked stone wall, looked around to ensure no-one else was nearby, and whispered, "Ducat Lex."
Author Notes:
Hi, all. One of the most pivotal chapters so far has been posted. I freely expect a minor storm to be created with this chapter. Canon, however, does not explicitly forbid the Sorting of muggleborn students into Slytherin; it's just strongly implied that they aren't normally put there. For those of you wondering about Snape's loyalties, this chapter should elucidate that at least at the time of Book 1, he's learned to largely be out for himself. And by Book 6 before Draco's time travel? Well, notice who was with him. Bellatrix Lestrange. She's always been a little jealous of his relative mental acuity and ability to survive more than a cat with nine lives. ;)
I welcome concrit, as always. :-)
fydyan's review brings up a thing I'd like to make clear: The Hat is a sentient being to an extent owing to its extreme age and the magic in the area of Hogwarts. Certainly a Hat that can interact with people (singing, for one thing...) no doubt has a more advanced form of mind-reading than only at touch-telepath range. I assume the existence of this feature to allow the Hat to probe people (although not to as great a degree) from afar, and thus allow it to discuss certain people with Draco and Hermione.
Finally, thanks go to Kirinin and Maddevillechilde for the excellent beta work and suggestions. Kudos. :)