Author's Note: Sorting is about to get very interesting, I'm afraid (and show just how AU this story is, I think!) I hope you enjoy!
The Sorting Hat didn't look like the stuff of legends. Battered and frayed, with a rip in the brim where its mouth purported to be. Hermione eyed it with faint distaste. None of her books had explained how precisely students were Sorted, but she couldn't see how trying on a hat could do it. Surely it was a joke, some sort of prank played on the "silly firsties haha we got you good, didn't we?"
Until the stern-faced Professor McGonagall called up "Abbott, Hannah" and the Hat was unceremoniously plopped on her head. The Hat's brim opened wide and "HUFFLEPUFF" was projected to the rest of the Great Hall. The pink-faced girl stumbled off to her new table while the older students politely clapped.
Hermione's jaw hung open.
"Bones, Susan" went to Hufflepuff, too, while "Brocklehurst, Mandy" ended up a Ravenclaw. "Crabbe, Vincent" and "Goyle, Gregory" went to Slytherin, and Hermione was privately relieved, as they both looked thoroughly unpleasant.
"Finch-Fletchley, Justin" also went to the House of Badgers and all too soon, it was Hermione's turn. She walked forward on wooden legs, willing her knees to stop knocking together, as Professor McGonagall (who looked much kinder up close) settled the Sorting Hat on her bushy hair.
"Interesting, very interesting," a voice said in her ear, or was it in her head? It was only with strictest willpower that Hermione managed not to jump. "Sorry," the Hat, for it must be the Hat, murmured in apology. "It's just me, you know. Now where to put you? You're ambitious and clever, you could do well in Slytherin-"
"Not Slytherin, please," Hermione mumbled as politely as she dared.
"No? Ah well, a Muggleborn in Slytherin House these days-could be risky for you-though many have taken up that risk. Gryffindor is out as well, I fear-you are quite brave, child, but bravery must be tempered with caution. Ravenclaw?"
"I'd like that," Hermione admitted, but the Hat was already going on.
"No, you would end up in your books all day and never come out, Miss Granger. No, I think the House for you, the one that will suit you best (though you may not thank me for it), better be...
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the Hat shouted, and her face burned with humiliation as she slid off the stool and handed the bedraggled Hat back to the Professor. Damn right she wouldn't thank the Sorting Hat. How could she ever accomplish her goals here? She'd heard what others thought of Hufflepuff. "Lot o' duffers" was the kindest epithet directed at them. "The dregs who couldn't be Sorted anywhere else." Was that really what awaited her in the magical world?
But as the other first years budged up and made a place for her, Hermione took a deep breath and looked around. All right, so she wasn't where she'd wanted to be. But perhaps it wouldn't be as bad as all that. Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott were both smiling in an encouraging sort of way, and everyone else looked at least relatively kind.
"Longbottom, Neville" was Sorted into Hufflepuff as well, and Hermione recognised him as the shy boy who'd lost his toad on the train.
"Where's Trevor?" she discreetly asked him as "Malfoy, Draco" was immediately put into Slytherin, and the Patil twins were put in Ravenclaw and Gryffindor, respectively.
"In my pocket," Neville muttered back, lifting his robes a bit to show the bulgy eyes and warty face of his new familiar.
"Potter, Harry!" Professor McGonagall called, and the entire Hall went silent. Hermione immediately picked out the Boy Who Lived, who looked extremely embarrassed and uncomfortable with all the attention. The Hat stayed quiet for nearly five minutes, before finally shouting out "RAVENCLAW."
The blue-and-bronze table went wild, while everyone else looked more than a bit disappointed. Hermione herself felt fierce jealousy burning in the pit of her stomach for a moment (Harry Potter ended up in Ravenclaw, while she ended up here?), before forcing it away. He couldn't help his Sorting either.
It was chance that Hermione caught the expression on the sallow-skinned, hook-nosed professor up at the head table. He looked profoundly shaken, as if something in his universe had just gone so utterly topsy-turvy, he couldn't see a way of righting it. Then it passed, and he directed a sneer down at the messy-haired first year who'd just taken his rightful place among his year mates at the Ravenclaw table.
The Sorting continued. "Thomas, Dean" into Gryffindor and "Turpin, Lisa" into Ravenclaw. Finally, the red-headed, freckle-bespattered boy with a smudge on his nose that Hermione had met on the train went up. "Weasley, Ronald." He'd made a face at his full name, not that Hermione could blame him. He was pale as milk under the freckles.
"SLYTHERIN" the Hat shouted just as Ron wrenched it off his head and yelled "No" at the same time.
"The thing's gotta be jinxed," he accused, letting it fall to the floor and pointing one accusing finger. The Hall had gone just as silent as it had when Harry was called up.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but the Hat's decisions are final," Professor McGonagall said calmly, her nostrils flaring. "I know this is a shock for you, but please sit down with your new House."
"Traitor," she heard a Gryffindor boy with similar red hair and colouring say, pitched just loud enough for the rest of the students to hear. He was immediately told off by someone else, but Hermione winced all the same. Ron looked even sicker as he sat down at the very end of the Slytherin table.
Finally, the Sorting finished with "Zabini, Blaise" also Sorted into Slytherin, and the Headmaster got up for a rather bizarre speech.
The plates before her filled up with food, but by this point, Hermione felt like collapsing into her plate. It was a relief when the feast ended, and the new Hufflepuffs were coaxed into a straggling line.
"Come on," one of the prefects, a fifth year named Gabriel Truman, said encouragingly. "It's not far, really."
Drooping with weariness, Hermione found herself led down several corridors and finally ending at a stack of barrels. She blinked in confusion, and noticed she was not the only one. Neville hung onto his toad for dear life beside her.
"Wands out," Gabriel ordered. "Now, you see here? Barrel two from the bottom, middle of the second row? Tap it-like such-to the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff." He demonstrated and everyone's mouths slackened in surprise when the lid swung open, revealing a dim, but still cozy-looking passageway.
"Welcome to Hufflepuff House," Gabriel said, and grinned.