Chapter 6: The Hat
Almost immediately after Hagrid knocked, the door opened at a remarkable pace. Standing in the doorway was the same elderly witch from before: Professor McGonagall. She took over for Hagrid and led the throng of first-years into the school. It was just as magnificent as he remembered, but now it had a more warm and welcoming feel to it. The high, vaulted ceiling was difficult to see, due to the dim lighting.
The huddled masses yearning to breathe free were led into a room that was far too small to properly accommodate them. Shal was almost trampled, and, due to his stature, he could not see anything but legs all around him. It almost induced a sense of claustrophobia. Thankfully, three sets of legs belonged to his friends, and he stuck close to them.
Professor McGonagall made a speech about the houses, and about the points system, in which "triumphs" (he assumed meant good grades and service to the school) would earn points, and "rule-breaking" would dock points. They were to be sorted into their respective houses when she returned. And with that, she left the chamber.
Not three seconds after the door slammed shut behind her, a young boy made his presence known. He was about Harry's height and body size, but was different from him in every other way: straight, greased-back blond hair, an overconfident smirk on his face, no glasses, and, obviously, no scar. He was looking at Harry when he spoke.
"So it's true," said the smirker. "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."
An unsettled murmur swept through the crowd like the shockwave of an earthquake. It was as if they were in the presence of a movie star. Blondie continued.
"This is Crabbe," he said, motioning to a chunky kid to his right, "and Goyle," motioning to another chunky kid on his left. "And I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."
And I'm Bond, James Bond, Shal thought to himself. Almost as if he read his mind, Ron let out a chuckle. Malfoy turned.
"You think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask what yours is. Red hair, freckles, hand-me-down robe. You must be a Weasley." He spat the name like a curse word.
"You'll find, Potter," he continued, "some wizarding families are much better than others. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He offered Harry his hand.
Harry refused. "I think I can tell for myself, thanks," he said, a smile of defiance on his face.
Before Malfoy could respond, Professor McGonagall reentered the room and commanded the mass to form one line, and follow her out of the room. The students were all anxious to get on with it, so the line was more of a line-shaped clump. This worked to Shal's advantage, as his friends involuntary maneuvered around him, obscuring him from view. Harry was in front of him.
The mass of students moved as one out of the waiting room and into what Shal could only assume (he could barely see through the wall of legs) was a very, very long room, probably the dining hall. He could see upward, however, and there appeared to be no roof on the building. He heard Hermione whisper about bewitching the ceiling to look like the sky, but he was too nervous to care. The mass continued onward, then suddenly ground to a halt. Students jostled into each other at the sudden stop.
Shal made a brave move. He stuck his head out between the legs of those around him and out into the aisle, so he could see what was going on up ahead. Professor McGonagall took a small footstool and placed it on the floor. She then produced an old, grimy, worn-out pointed wizard's hat and placed it on the chair. Then the hat did something (which Shal was surprised at; hats generally don't do anything) unexpected. It formed a mouth out of what appeared to be a rip in the base, and began to sing:
"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 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!"
Geez, thought Shal. It looks like some people have too much time on their hands. The rest of the students already seated in the hall cheered for the talented headpiece, then became silent, awaiting what came next.
Professor McGonagall was heard over the din of the audience.
"When I call your name," she said, "you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."
She then called the first name on a long list (which touched the floor).
"Abbott, Hannah!"
The small girl approached the stool, donned the hat, and sat on the stool. The hat ruminated out loud as it thought, mumbling for a short time over its decision. Then finally, it shouted at the top of its lungs.
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Shal heard much cheering from one of the tables to his right. As the girl was seated, the professor called the next name. The next girl did the same thing and was sorted. She was assigned to Hufflepuff as well. When the third name was called, Shal knew the names were in alphabetical order (humans always like it so neat and orderly, he thought). He zoned out, thinking to himself about the upcoming year. A name snapped him out of his reverie.
"Granger, Hermione!"
Shal poked his head out from between the legs (carefully), so he could get a better view. She donned the hat hastily and sat. He heard the hat mumbling about how smart she was, but it still seemed like a tough choice for the thing. Finally, after a little while, the hat made its decision.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table erupted in applause for their new member. Shal became nervous. Where will I be assigned? he thought. He then zoned out for a long time until…
"Potter, Harry!"
The crowd suddenly became very quiet. Harry moved away from Shal and approached the bench. As he did, whispers erupted from the masses, whispers of disbelief and suspicion. It sounded like an open window on a windy day. Harry sat with the hat. The hat's face contorted in concentration. This looked like a tough one.
It spoke out loud. "Hmm… Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting…so where shall I put you?"
After a pause, the hat continued. "Not Slytherin, eh? Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help on the way to greatness, no doubt about that – no? Well, if you're sure – better be GRYFFINDOR!"
Gryffindor table erupted in thunderous acclaim as Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He smiled as he sat down beside the others.
Shal noticed something. The hat paused for a moment. Shal realized what that meant: Harry was communicating with the hat. He was thinking what he wanted, as if in his mind he was saying, I do not want to go to Slytherin. That would help Shal, because his mind was made up. He was going to go to Gryffindor. Two of his friends were in it, and he would be lost without them. It was by chance he met them in the first place. The other houses might not be as welcoming. He wouldn't chance it. That gnawing anxiety returned to his stomach as he waited for his name to be called. Finally, after another ten minutes or so…
"Shaloxeroligon!"
A murmur went up through the crowds at the name. "What kind of name is that?" "Huh?" Shal maneuvered his way through to the front of the line, causing surprised yelps and gasps as he passed by the others. Finally he reached the stool. The murmuring that had accompanied Harry's arrival was replaced by a large, simultaneous gasp. Then, silence. Not a single word was spoken. Shal reached the stool, removed the hat, and sat facing the crowd (note: Dragons are built much like large cats. They therefore sit like them.). Never before had he seen so many wide, staring eyes. He donned the hat, and the world went black around him as it passed over his eyes.
Shal knew it was his time to act. Okay, hat, Shal thought. I know you can hear me. It will not be you choosing my house. It will be me.
The hat spoke in response. "And why do you think I should listen to what you say, of all people?"
Because, Shal responded, as a self-proclaimed being of intelligence, you use logic to deduce which house to place a student it. My logic is undeniable. And I'll tear you up and eat you if you don't do what I say.
"I'd like to see you try!" the hat replied incredulously.
Just hear me out, Shal thought. I consider myself to be the most powerful being in this building right now. My tremendous ego will fan the flames of greed, and I will use any means necessary to achieve those goals of greatness, so Slytherin would be a perfect fit. The hat tried to interject, but Shal kept going. Even though I am a greedy and self-absorbed creature, I can empathize with other's feelings, and I will remain loyal to friends even to the brink of death. And as for patient, I am going to live for another three-and-a-half thousand years! I can wait it out. Hufflepuff is also a perfect fit. The hat thought as Shal continued. I am also a very smart individual. The fact that I am trying to use logic to persuade you should be evidence enough that my highly evolved brain makes me a perfect candidate for Ravenclaw. The hat nodded. And finally, this tremendous ego makes me believe that I am stronger than everything else, and is therefore unworthy of my fear. I can face any danger with vigilance and courage, and I will stick up for those I love most. This bravery makes Gryffindor the obvious choice.
The hat was silent, waiting. You see what I did? Shal asked. I have proven to you that I am an equal candidate for every house at this school. But there is one thing that makes Gryffindor outweigh the others. That is the fact that I have friends there. If you were to put me in the other houses, I would be isolated and ridiculed. Because I have friends in Gryffindor, I would be more welcomed, and would therefore perform better as a student. You wouldn't want my time at this school to be a living hell, would you?
The hat was dumbfounded. It just sat there.
"You have a good point," it said, after much deliberation. "In that case, the house for you is…GRYFFINDOR!"
Thank you, Shal replied, as he removed the hat and got up.
The dining hall was silent. At each of the four long, wooden tables, not a person said a word. After a long silence, clapping could be heard from the staff table behind him. It was a single person: Professor Albus Dumbledore. He applauded Shal, clapping slowly. As he did, other teachers at the table joined him in applause. Then, very gradually, the students joined their teachers in applause. Then the Gryffindor table erupted in thunderous cheering and clapping as they welcomed their new member. Shal strode proudly to the table and grabbed a seat near Harry and Hermione. Shal noted that the Slytherin table wasn't clapping as much as the others. However, the Gryffindor table was more than cheery. They smiled nervously as he looked around the table.
The cheers simmered down as the readings continued. More names were read, cheers were had, and people sat. Finally…
"Weasley, Ronald!"
Ron walked shakily up to the stool, put on the hat, and sat.
"Heh, another Weasley," the hat said, smiling, "I know just what I'm going to do with you! GRYFFINDOR!"
Ron breathed a heavy sigh of relief as he removed the hat and grabbed a seat near Harry. The last few students were sorted into their respective houses, and the hat was put away. It was then that Shal noticed that the table had beautiful, shining plates and flatware on it. All of a sudden, he became very hungry. Dumbledore stood and spoke.
"Welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddiment! Tweak! Thank you!"
He sat back down, and the crowd cheered for him. Shal didn't think he was very funny. Harry was just confused, as usual. But just as he thought this, the table became filled with food, and lots of it. There was every kind of meat imaginable, and it was all cooked. Shal was used to eating food raw. In addition, there were vegetables piled high onto shining serving bowls and so much more. Shal marveled at the magnificent spread for a moment, and then dove right in. The humans were shocked. Shal just took a fistful of what he wanted and shoved it in his mouth. Then, when he was done with that mouthful, he got another. He made a tremendous mess on his plate and on his face. As he was chewing a succulent chicken drumstick, he noticed the stares.
"What?" he said with his mouth full.
"Do you have any manners?" said Hermione, obviously upset by the display.
"Oh, sorry," said Shal, swallowing. "This food is delicious! Where did you get the recipe?"
"Not what I meant," she said. "You're supposed to use a fork and knife, not your hands! And don't eat so fast! You'll get sick."
"…oh," Shal said, looking around the table and seeing nice clean plates and faces. He looked sheepishly down at his own plate, which was a mess of meat scraps and other bits of food. He noted the napkin, and wiped his face. With some difficulty, he managed to eat his fill using flatware. He was still eating when something caught his eye.
He saw several translucent figures pass through the walls of the dining hall and float towards the tables. Shal knew them immediately to be ghosts. One cheerily approached their table.
"Aaaahhhhh! The UNDEAD!!" he shouted, jumping up and preparing to drive the ghosts away. "Back, you fiends! Back!"
"Hello, Sir Nicholas," said a boy that Ron had previously identified as his older brother Percy.
"Hello, Percy," the ghost replied. "And as for you," he turned toward Shal, "Whatever you are, I do not take kindly to being mocked in such a way!"
Hermione turned to Shal. "Relax. The ghosts here are friendly. And besides, it's not like they can hurt you."
Shal knew otherwise, but he sat and tried to calm himself down.
"I know you!" said Ron. "You're Nearly-Headless Nick!"
"I prefer Sir Nicholas de Mimsy," the ghost replied, correcting.
Another boy piped up, a boy the others called Seamus Finnigan. "Nearly headless?" he asked, placing obnoxious emphasis on nearly. "How can you be nearly headless?"
"Like this," the ghost replied, and with that, he grabbed the left side of his head and yanked sharply. His head came loose from his shoulders, but a small piece of skin kept it attached. Where his head used to be, a bloody stump remained. The kids were disgusted.
"Dude!" said Shal. "That is so cool!"
Nick smiled and repositioned his head. He then struck of conversation with the others. Shal continued to eat, but just as he was reaching for another serving, the food disappeared. It was replaced by desserts of every sort: pies, cakes, pastries, puddings, ice creams, and so much more. Shal, however, was disappointed. For some reason that they do not like to talk about, dragons do not like sweet foods. Shal was no different. He looked around for something to eat, but he could find nothing to his liking. Still, he was relatively full from the main course that he could just sit back and relax. He listened in on a conversation to his left.
"I'm half-and-half," said Seamus Finnigan. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mom didn't tell him she was a witch 'til after they were married. Bit of a nasty shock for him."
The others chuckled at the joke. Shal did not. Ron turned to the strange boy with a toad from the boat ride. His name was Neville. Neville then began to talk about his parentage (he was raised by his grandmother) and how his family wished he was born a wizard, and how his "magic" surfaced. Shal was confused. Where he came from, wizards, witches, warlocks, and sorcerers were all different types of arcane spellcasters. But here, the words were used interchangeably, and they thought that if one of your parents was a "wizard" or "witch" and the other wasn't, then you were a "half-wizard." Strange indeed.
He then overheard Hermione talking to Percy about Transfiguration. That made Shal happy. He was anxious to learn how to use the various different types of spells, and Transmutation (why they called it Transfiguration here confused him) was one of his favorite schools of magic. This excitement was cut short when he heard Harry cry out in pain. He turned to face him. Harry was clutching the scar on his forehead.
"What happened?" Shal asked, concerned. "You okay, Harry?"
"Yeah, I guess," he replied.
Shal looked warily around. In the direction Harry was facing, Shal saw Professor Quirrell facing the other way. Beside him, he saw a man he knew he would never forget. The man (Shal knew he was a teacher) had greasy black hair that came straight down from his head to just above his shoulders, a hooked nose, and a pale complexion. He was giving Harry a look of hatred, of malice.
"Do you know that guy, Harry?" Shal asked, turning back the other way.
"Percy," Harry asked, "who is that next to Professor Quirrell?"
"That's Professor Snape," Percy replied. "He teaches Potions, but everybody knows that he wants to teach Defense against the Dark Arts. He's been after Quirrells' job for years."
Not a second later, the desserts on the table vanished, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet.
"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Shal snickered.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
I'll take that as a challenge, Shal thought to himself, smiling.
"And now," Dumbledore continued, smiling broadly, "before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!"
He produced his wand, waved it awkwardly, and formed a long string of words that Shal could tell was a song.
"Everyone pick their favorite tunes," said Dumbledore, cheerily, "and off we go!"
The resulting cacophony was more than Shal could bear. Everyone was singing the same words, but each one sang to a different beat and rhythm. About half the school sucked at singing, and none of it blended well. It was one loud, jumbled mess. Shal noticed that many of the students weren't singing at all, but were just shouting the words. When the horrid "music" was over, Dumbledore smiled again and sent them off to their rooms.
Percy and a few other boys (whom everyone else referred to as the Prefects) led all the first years out of the dining hall. The crowd was then led through a twisting maze of left and right turns and secret passageways. There were pictures along the walls. Many of those pictures depicted humans, and when someone approached, the humans in them came to life, most often waving, looking at the students, and saying hello. After much traveling, the group ground to a halt. Percy stepped forward from the group and approached a large picture in the wall. The picture was of an overweight lady in a pink silk dress. She turned to Percy and bid an ominous question.
"Password?"
"Caput Draconis," Percy replied to the lady. With that, the picture swung out like a door in the wall to reveal another secret passageway. This one led to a nice, comfy room filled with many chairs and a crackling fireplace. Percy identified it as the Gryffindor common room.
Percy immediately divided the first years in two groups by gender, and directed each group to their respective doors in the common room. The boys ascended a set of spiral stairs (which Shal still found particularly treacherous), and found their dormitory, complete with several four-poster beds and their school equipment placed at the foot of each one. Every boy was very tired, so they got into their pajamas right away and dozed off the instant they laid down. Shal, on the other hand, was not as tired as the rest of them. He looked around the dormitory, and suddenly, a strange feeling came over him, one that he had never felt before. It was homesickness. He missed his home. He missed his computer. But most of all, he missed his family. He sat next to the window and looked out at the night sky. The stars were shining brightly. His sadness was followed by words of his mother. She said to be strong, to not show fear or weakness in front of the humans. He took those words to heart, wiped a tear from his eye, headed off to bed.
