Disclaimer: This story is based on characters created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoat Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
AN:
Thanks to all the readers who sent reviews with their choice of a House for Harry, and those who voted in the poll while it worked. It helped a lot! You'll soon see which House won : )
On another note, a couple of reviewers had some questions, but I won't reply this time since they will be answered as the fic advances – I don't want to spoil things for you ^_^
This chapter is shorter than the rest. I thought it would be best to post what I had written so far instead of making you wait for another week or so for a longer chapter.
Important: A reviewer pointed out to me that the fic is moving too slowly and that it could get tedious. This worries me, I'll admit, so I would like to know what you'd prefer: to see how the boys progress through their school years, more or less in the same pace as now, or to have a time-skip and see them in 4-5th year? Or perhaps some other alternative? I don't know - I just don't want it to feel boring or too drawn-out. So please let me know.
That said, I hope you enjoy this!
Part I: Chapter 13
Children of all ages were pushing their way through the small station's platform, while Harry shivered in the cold night air.
He wrapped his robe tighter around his body, for once grateful that Tom had insisted on buying one set of school robes from Monsieur Ermenegilde's.
His expensive robe was plain black and fitted him well, and surely made him look posh – as Tom had intended- but the important aspect was that it was made of a very warm material, and so velvety and soft to the touch that Harry wouldn't mind bunching up the robe to use it like a pillow, to contently rub his face against it like a pleased, purring cat.
"Leave your trunks and cages over here!" suddenly called out a squeaky voice.
Harry glanced at the wizard who had suddenly appeared in their midst, with a lamp dangling from his hand. The man was very plump and short, barely a few inches taller than Harry, wearing brown woolen clothes, and with such a bushy beard that only his eyes could be seen.
"The house-elves will take your luggage up to your dorm rooms after the Sorting," added the wizard in his high-pitched voice. "Hurry up now!"
"Elves?" Harry blinked, his eyes then widening with amazed astonishment. "Did he really say elves?"
However, Tom didn't hear him. His brother was already several feet ahead of him, dropping his trunk at one side of the platform, next to the large pile of luggage that had already been left there by the older students.
Harry quickly advanced forward to do the same, and just when Tom had carefully placed Lord Horkos' cage on top of his trunk, looking reluctant to leave his pet behind, the short wizard spoke again.
"First years, gather around – gather around!"
They soon complied, and Harry saw that there had to be about forty children or so, in all.
"I'm Figwig Ogg, the Keeper of the Keys and Grounds of Hogwarts," announced the plump wizard congenially. The man's smile was hidden by his overlarge, bushy beard, but there was no mistaking the kindness and welcoming warmth in his eyes. "Now follow me for your first trip across the Black Lake – no dawdling behind, if you please!"
They all trailed after the man, whispering and murmuring with excitement, while Harry saw that the older children had taken another path that veered to the right. Even from a distance, he could see that those students were taking open carriages that were being pulled by very weird-looking, skinny horses - they even had leathery wings, it seemed.
Just when Harry was going to quicken his pace to catch up with the Prewett twins, who were up ahead, Tom grasped his forearm, pulling him back towards him.
"We're not going with them," whispered Tom sharply.
"What –" Harry snapped his head around to stare at him, incredulously. "You don't like Felix and Felicity?"
"Do you even need to ask?" scoffed out Tom, to then shoot him a sneer at his stupidity, apparently.
"Someday, you'll have to get friends," groused Harry, following his brother along the path, far from the ginger-haired twins.
Though, he was determined that he wouldn't let Tom pull him away from the Prewetts once classes started – that would distract his brother and make it easier for him to slip away.
"You can't still keep me all to yourself, you know?" continued Harry, highly miffed. "It's not healthy! And you need some other friend besides me."
"You aren't a friend, but my twin," snapped Tom sharply, narrowing his eyes at him. "So I have every right to 'keep you all to myself', as you put it." His eyes further narrowed to slits, as he hissed out poignantly, "And I don't even do that. I don't know how you dare accuse me of it, as if I needed you-"
"But it's true," quipped Harry, impishly grinning at him. "You do need me - you like me, you could've never wished for a better brother than me, and you know it. And you're scared that someday I'll like someone more than you, and that I'll have a new best friend and ditch you."
Tom fiercely glowered at him, looking murderous. But then, the steep, narrow path they had been following suddenly opened onto the edge of a great lake, with a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore.
"No more than four to a boat!" loudly warned Mr. Ogg.
Harry grasped the opportunity -before his brother could retaliate with some nasty retort- and he dashed away, cheerfully calling out over his shoulder, "First one to make it to a boat is owed a galleon!"
He quickly climbed into the first boat he saw, which was already occupied by a boy and a small girl, sitting apart from each other.
Glancing back, though, he saw that Tom hadn't bothered to take up his challenge. His brother was leisurely making his way towards him, coolly sauntering as if he had all the time in the world.
The second Tom finally climbed in, being the last child to finally settle, Figwig Ogg, standing in another boat all by himself, squeaked merrily, "Forward we go!"
And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which looked as smooth and unperturbed as glass.
"You owe me a galleon," was the only thing Harry whispered smugly to Tom, before he snapped his eyes forward, to gaze at what could be seen in the distance, across the lake.
There was a high mountain on the other side, and perched atop it, a vast castle with many turrets and towers, its windows shinning in the starry sky. Harry's eyes widened as he stared at it, mesmerized. It even seemed to him that the castle glowed with streaks of many colors, as if it had an enormous sparkling mantle draped over it.
"What was that?" cried out a shrilly voice. "I saw something there!"
Harry's head snapped around to glance at their companion. Tom and he had taken the front of the boat, and at the back were a boy and girl, seated at opposite sides.
The boy had a rich cloak on top of his robes, lined with heavy fur, and had a contemptuous expression on his face, his nose stuck up in the air.
But it had been the girl who had spoken; plain looking, with lank hair, pimples and thick eyeglasses. She was squatting away from the edge of the boat, pointing a shaky finger at the water.
"There! Something's there!" she abruptly screamed hysterically, flinging herself to a side.
Their boat lurched and dangerous rocked to the right, water spilling over the edge and splashing them.
"You stupid girl, stop moving!" snapped the boy at her side, roughly shoving her off him.
"There's something lurking in the water!" she shrieked frenziedly, as she let out a high-pitched sob. "I want off this boat! Make it turn back! Make it turn back NOW!"
"Shut up, you idiot!" hissed out Tom furiously. "There's nothing in the water – stop screaming and sit still!"
Just then, a huge tentacle broke out from the surface of the water, for a brief moment, and the girl jumped in the air, letting out a strident, terrified wail that made Harry wince, his eardrums nearly popping.
"It's just the Giant Squid, you lamebrain!" bit out the boy next to her, scowling. "It's harmless."
"I want to get off this boat! I want to go home – I want to go home now – this is horrid!" the girl continued to wail, shriek, and bemoan, looking out of her wits as she frenziedly grasped the edges of the boat, letting out loud, weeping sobs.
"Then get off the boat!" snapped Tom angrily. "Do us a favor and fling yourself over the edge before you make us capsize!"
At that, something ugly seemed to posses the girl, because her sobs abruptly halted and she snapped her head around to glare at Tom, her expression thunderous as she bellowed, "Right! Let's shove silly, weeping, sobbing Myrtle off the boat, because she's nothing but a pest!"
Harry blinked at the barmy girl, thoroughly perplexed by her sudden mood-swing. She was mad as a hatter, this one!
Tom looked ready to leap at her and throttle her. Though, instead, his brother gave him a small shove, as he commanded briskly, "Harry, deal with her. Calm her down before she overturns the boat."
Harry nearly toppled over his seat at Tom's push, but he managed to grip the edge of the boat, steadying himself, before he shot his brother an incredulous look, aghast. "What? Why me-"
"Because you're good with people," hissed out Tom in an angry whisper, "with stupid idiots like her. So do it!"
"I don't know how to deal with crying girls!" whispered back Harry sharply. "And she's a loony!"
"A loony!" cried out the girl, evidently having overheard him, shooting him a look of pure fury. "Bonkers, am I? A nutter, batty, off my rocker, raving mad, am I!"
Harry stared at her, his mouth hanging open. The other boy had pushed himself as far away from the girl as possible, a sneer of disdain on his face. While Tom sat there, boring holes into Harry, pressing him to take action.
Finally, Harry huffed. Cowards, those two. So he crawled to the back, taking the seat the other boy had left, and then warily met the gaze of the deranged girl.
"Look," he said as gently as he could, shooting her his best friendly smile, "just calm down, alright? Let's just-"
"Let's just what?" she snapped, glowering at him through her thick spectacles, before she spat accusingly, "You're going to shove me off the boat, aren't you? That's why you've come to sit with me – to make me think you want to be my friend, but you'll just push me over!"
"No one's going to do anything to you," he gritted out with irritation. He took a deep, steadying breath, and added soothingly, "Let's just calm down." He shot her a wide smile. "I'm Harry Riddle. What's your name?"
"I already said it!" bit out the girl. "Or are you deaf as well as dumb?"
Harry's jaw clenched, but he strived for patience, and then said kindly, "Myrtle, right? But what's your full name?"
The girl eyed him suspiciously, and then said sharply, "Why? Want to mock me?" She pointed a finger at the other boy and Tom, as she added shrilly, "Will you make jokes about me with your friends, and call me names, and make fun of me!"
"Of course not," said Harry very gravely.
"Fine," said the girl briskly, to then peer at him closely through her thick glasses. "I'm Myrtle Mimbletinon."
Harry's lips twitched, but he managed to keep his expression smooth.
In the next second, before he could say anything more, the girl's brief moment of relaxation vanished, as she started again to snap her head to one side and the other, her eyes wide and terrified as she scrutinized the surface of the lake.
Seeing this, Harry intoned soothingly, as he gestured at the other boy who had been quick to take a seat besides Tom, "That chap said that it was only a giant squid, and that there was nothing to fear."
Myrtle spun around on her seat, to whisper sharply, "It wasn't a tentacle what I saw at first." Then she let out in a low, strident wail, "It was some kind of hideous creature – a monster! Staring at me from under the water!"
Just as if her words had summoned it, right by their side of the boat, a head popped out of the water, with very long, knotted hair, its features wrinkled and ugly, a thin-lipped mouth revealing very sharp, jagged teeth.
"The monster has come for me again!" wailed Myrtle, jumping on Harry and making their boat dangerously swing from side to side, as she desperately clung to him. "Save me!"
"It's a mer-maid!" shouted the boy by Tom's side.
Abruptly, just as Harry kept staring at the creature, blinking, he saw its features changing, and he was suddenly gazing at the face of a mesmerizingly beautiful woman, with long, silky, pink hair and striking purple eyes, her full lips curving into a tantalizing smile.
"Don't look at it, you fool! What are you, a muggleborn, that you don't know what it does?"
Someone grabbed Harry by the arm, pulling him away and shaking him violently, but he couldn't stop gazing dazedly at the woman, her head moving closer and closer to his side of the boat, her beautiful purple eyes fixed on him.
"It's a female merfolk," continued yelling the other boy, "she becomes beautiful to entice you and then drag you into the depths, into their lair, to eat you! Stop staring at it, you dolt!"
"Harry!" bellowed Tom into his ear, angry and anxiously.
Harry blinked, and then peered up at his brother, who had his arms around him, panting hard, and was now also scowling down at him.
Then he glanced around, perplexed, yet soon realizing that at some point they had all moved to the opposite side of the boat, and Tom had apparently dragged him with them. That edge of their boat was dangerously close to the water now. And it didn't help matters that Myrtle was sobbing, wailing, and moaning in distress and fear.
"The Giant Squid will surely appear soon," rushed out the other boy. "That's what it does – keeps the merfolk under control, so that they don't prey on the students."
Except Myrtle, they all kept a tense and wary silence, not for a moment looking over the other side of the boat where the mer-maid no doubt lurked.
A moment later, as prophesized by the boy, a large tentacle shot out from the water and then splashed down. A horrible screech reverberated all round them, so earsplitting that they all cringed and slapped their hands over their ears.
There was blissful silence after that, and they all let out deep sighs of relief, taking back their seats, except Myrtle who clung to Harry like an eel, as she moaned and let out wailing sobs.
Finally, their boat reached the cliff on which the castle stood and it carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening on the cliff's face. They sailed along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor.
The moment their boat struck shore, they all quickly clambered out onto rocks and pebbles; the boy whose name they still didn't know bolting away without sparing them a backward glance.
"Harry –wait!" called out Myrtle, quickly taking a hold of him. She sharply stared up at him through her thick glasses. "You'll be my friend now, right?"
"Sure," said Harry beaming a smile at her. Though not if he could help it. He had had enough of her to last him a lifetime.
He gently extricated his arm from her clutches, as he said calmly, "I'll see you tomorrow. Now I must go with my brother."
And with that, he scampered off, dashing and catching up with Tom, as all the children followed Mr. Figwig Ogg through a passageway in the rocks. They soon came out onto smooth, damp grass, right in the shadow of the castle. Then they took a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge oak front doors.
There, the Groundskeeper left them in the hands of a very scary looking man who gruffly introduced himself as the Caretaker of Hogwarts, Apollyon Pringle. He was a swarthy and scruffy looking man, rail-thin, his skin leathery, with a red patch covering his left eye, a wooden leg that clanked with every step he took, and a crow perched on his shoulder.
The man introduced his beloved pet as 'Rascal the Corvus' -while the creature gazed at them with its small, beady orange eyes, with a distinct malevolent gleam in them- and warned them with much relish that Rascal always found any students who violated the rules, misbehaved, or broke curfew, and would savagely peck them until they bled and even gouge out their eyes if they weren't careful.
Then Mr. Pringle led them into the castle, and Harry's attention was soon snatched.
From the moment he stepped inside, his eyes had widened, the streaks of colors that he had seen the castle glowing with from a distance, now fully revealed before him.
They were everywhere, like a marvelous lattice, spanning like swirls or thin cords or veins along the floors, across the ceilings, and throughout the walls; braids of silver and emerald, yellow and black, blue and bronze, or crimson and gold. They glowed, they shone, and they thrummed.
And his skin felt prickly, like had happened in Diagon Alley, particularly in Ollivander's store. But while the feeling had been heavy and oppressive in the wandshop – as if the place had been too small and stuffy to contain it- the feeling in Hogwarts was soft, warm, and airy, as if the magic freely floated and flowed throughout the vast spaces, and much more vibrantly and powerfully.
However, it didn't escape his notice that one seemed to see it, not even Tom.
The children didn't gape, mesmerized, at the flagged stone floors and walls. They whispered about the gigantic hog statue they had come across at the entrance, or the magnificent moving marble staircases they could now see above them, or the magical portraits and landscapes hanging high up above their heads in rows upon rows, becoming smaller in the far distance. But none of them murmured about the streaks of colors everywhere.
So when the Caretaker halted before the grand, parted double doors of what he called the Great Hall, and commanded them to wait in silence until the Sorting Ceremony commenced, Harry tugged on Tom's robes and dragged him till they were at the very end of the crowd of first years, several feet behind them.
"Stop pulling me!" snapped Tom angrily. "What's the matter with you?"
Harry dropped his hand from his brother's sleeve, frowned at him, and pointed a finger at the wall they had before them, as he demanded, "Don't you see it?"
Tom glanced around, and then shot him an annoyed scowl. "See what?"
"You really don't see the colors? The streaks – on the wall?" murmured Harry, eyeing him with agitation.
"What are you yammering on about?" bit out Tom briskly. "There are no colors, just plain stone." He let out a disdainful snort. "You've gone round the bend!"
Harry mutely shook his head and then intently gazed at the wall again. Right before his eyes, it was vibrating and pulsing with the braids of colors – he wasn't imagining things!
He took a step forward, and then pressed the palm of his hand against the stones. His fingers and hand were instantly suffused with tingling warmth, the lattice of colors spanning across the wall suddenly expanding and contracting under his touch, as if it were breathing.
"It's alive," he breathed out, his green eyes wide as moons and riveted.
Tom shot him a glance, and then mimicked mockingly in a high-pitch, "It's alive!" Then he scoffed snidely. "What – you're Dr. Frankenstein now?"
"What?" said Harry bewildered. Then he fiercely scowled at him. "No, you idiot! I see bloody colors! I think its magic, and I can feel it more intensely when I touch the wall, too."
"You've lost your marbles-"
Irked beyond measure, Harry brusquely grabbed Tom's hand and forcefully pushed it against the wall, glancing up at him as he snapped, "You don't feel anything either?"
But then, an odd expression crossed Tom's face; the boy blinked, and then frowned.
Harry dropped his hand from Tom's, and fixedly gazed at him, scrutinizing. "Well – do you feel something or not?"
Tom didn't say anything, but in a second he had yanked his hand away, taking a step back and then scowling up around him, as if expecting something to be lurking above, ready to jump on him. He looked suspicious, wary, and angry.
"You did feel something," whispered Harry sharply, skewering him with his gaze. "What was it?"
Looking disconcerted for a moment, Tom glanced at him, then his jaw clenched and he gritted out, "I think the bloody thing is sentient. Something brushed my mind, like a ruddy caress." He shuddered, and then sneered, "It was warm and embracing, as if it was joyfully welcoming me. It had no business doing that to me!"
Harry gaped at him, and said astonished, "The castle spoke to you?"
Tom rounded on him like a puffed up, bristling cat, spitting, "No, it didn't speak to me, you halfwit! It's a bloody building! Since when do-"
"Dumbledore said Hogwarts was a good example of an enchanted castle," ground out Harry. "Remember?"
"He didn't say it was alive and sentient, though," hissed out Tom angrily, glowering at him. "Did he?"
Harry stared at him with big eyes. "So you do think it's alive?"
"I don't know," bit out Tom churlishly, then glancing up uneasily as if expecting that the castle would suddenly strike him down with a lighting bolt, "but I don't like it - not one bit."
Harry scowled at him, miffed. "I don't see why not. It 'touched your mind', as you put it, and welcomed you." He paused and then complained with a disappointed whine, "How come it didn't do that to me?"
"And how come you see colors," groused out Tom disgruntled, "it's magic, apparently, and I don't?"
Harry stared at him. "Er – well, you have a good point there."
"Of course I do," said Tom, looking furious. "And I rather see things than have my mind attacked – I can assure you of that!"
"It didn't attack you," pointed out Harry sensibly, rolling his eyes. "It welcomed you, you said."
Tom briskly waved a hand with vexed irritation. "Same difference."
Harry shot a glance at the crowd of children a few feet away from them, and murmured quietly, "But no one seems to be aware of it, though."
"Best keep it to ourselves, then," said Tom firmly, a deep frown on his face.
Then, Tom quickly grabbed Harry by the hand, pulling him towards the group of awaiting children and apparently deciding they had had enough weirdness and excitement for one day.
Through the sea of bodies of the children, Harry managed to take a peek inside the Hall, and he gazed in fascination. The impossibly high ceiling was transparent, showing a velvety black sky dotted with countless stars. The hall itself was lit by thousands of candles that floated in mid-air, above four long tables where the rest of the students were sitting. At the top of the hall was another long table facing the students, where a row of adult wizards and witches sat – they had to be the teachers. And right in front of it was a four-legged stool, with a pointed wizard's hat on top – very patched, frayed, and dirty looking.
Just then, the hat suddenly twitched, a rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth, and it began to sing. Harry gawked.
When the song ended, having basically revealed the attributes of each House that he had already learned from the Prewett twins, everyone in the Great Hall loudly applauded. And then, at last, one of the teachers –Dumbledore, he saw- stood next to the stool, with a roll of parchment in hand, and called out the first name.
It was Thaddeus Avery, the hulking, bully of a boy that Abraxas Malfoy had ordered to throw Harry and Tom out of the compartment. The hat was placed on the boy's head for a split second, before it bellowed, "Slytherin!"
A girl was called next, and then Alphard Black. This time, the hat twitched and shifted on top of the boy's hair for a few moments, but at last also sorted the boy in Slytherin, which garnered a round of constrained applause from the table with the students with green and silver ties.
Alphard's handsome cousin, Orion Black, followed afterwards, and it just took the hat two or three seconds to yell "Slytherin!" again.
And so the Sorting continued, with Harry only paying attention to those he knew from sight or brief acquaintance.
A tall, broad-shouldered boy with curly dark hair and brown eyes was called at some point, and Harry recognized him as one of those who had been with Abraxas Malfoy.
He was Neron Lestrange, apparently, and Harry remembered that Felicity had mentioned him in particular, as one of twins' former childhood friends. Unsurprisingly, the boy was also sorted into Slytherin, soon followed by Abraxas Malfoy.
"McLaggen, Tiberius!" was called out next, and a frisson of excitement ran throughout the Hall, many looking excited, envious, awed, or resentful.
"…he's the Minister's grandson!" someone said breathlessly.
Harry blinked when he saw that it was the boy who had been in their boat. The boy strutted down the Hall like an arrogant peacock, with his nose stuck up in the air - a pompous prig that one, no doubt, Harry decided.
"Ravenclaw!" the hat yelled as soon as it touched McLaggen's head.
The Ravenclaws, who thus far hadn't hooted and clapped as boisterously as the Gryffindors or as warmly welcoming as the Hufflepuffs, erupted into a long round of applause and cheers, looking extremely proud and smug of their new member.
The girl Myrtle Mimbletinon was next, and to Harry's astonishment, she was sorted into Ravenclaw as well. But none of her housemates seemed to even notice her, since they were still patting McLaggen on the back as the boy took a seat among them.
Soon, it was Felicity Prewett's turn, and then Felix's. With Felicity, the Hat took several seconds; with her brother, it announced it immediately. They were both sorted into Gryffindor and their rowdy housemates welcomed them very cheerfully and excitedly.
Harry saw that there was one girl in particular who had stood up and clapped the loudest; she was older, plump, with auburn hair and brown eyes, with a golden badge pinned on her robes displaying the letter 'H'. She was the Head Girl, then, and had to be Muriel, the cousin in seventh year that the twins had mentioned.
Some time afterwards, he suddenly heard, "Riddle, Harry!"
Shooting a glance at Tom, who nodded at him reassuringly, Harry then made his way through the few unsorted first years left, entered the Great Hall, and walked down the aisle that separated the four tables by the middle. Fortunately, no one seemed to be paying him much attention.
He plopped down on the stool and Albus Dumbledore carefully placed that hat on top of his head.
The next second, the hat shifted and Harry waited, not sure of what was supposed to happen.
Suddenly, a small voice said in his ear, "Hmm, what have we here? Let's see… Ah, a kind heart and deep loyalty towards those you care for – Hufflepuff could be the place for you, especially with your yearning for a complete family and your desire to belong."
Harry gripped the edges of the stool, a bit startled by the voice, but remained quiet.
"Oh, quite a good mind you have, sharp and perspicacious when you bother to take an interest or apply some effort. Always brimming with curiosity too, and that is ever the catalyst for thought. Then perhaps Ravenclaw, but… Aha!" The voice chuckled wryly. "No, not Ravenclaw for you, it would stifle you! You have an adventurer's soul! And clearly an utter disregard for rules. Plenty of courage, as well…Yes, you would do well in Gryffindor, and… My, my, what an accomplished thief you are-"
The hat wasn't going to tell on him, was it?, thought Harry with some anxiousness.
"No, no, don't fret, I cannot disclose to others what I learn in your minds. But I must say, you can be quite the innocent-looking manipulator. Quite an actor you are – cunningness indeed! A skill only best honed in Slytherin...Well, what a dilemma, you are a hard one to sort. I haven't had such a challenge in a long time!" It chuckled merrily. "I'll have to take a deeper plunge!"
Harry felt the hat gripping his head tighter, shifting and squirming.
"Oh – ah! What's this?" The hat moved again, with agitation it seemed to Harry and he started to get worried.
"Well, I've never encountered one like you before. Quite an unparalleled situation it is. You don't belong here."
Harry began to panic, before the hat's gruff voice snapped in his ear, "No, no, I didn't mean it that way. You are indeed a wizard, don't get your undergarments in a twist. But your life has been tampered with, and twice in that very same night, no less!"
An avalanche of nonplussed, bewildered thoughts swirled in Harry's mind, but the hat didn't seem to take notice of them this time. Instead, it started squirming uncomfortably, as if someone was tickling him.
"Hold your hippogriffs! Yes, yes, I know it's a grave matter. No – but – you want to come out, then? Oh well, have it your way," the hat snapped with irritation, and then it went completely still.
'Oh you poor, poor child,' said a soft, sorrowful voice in Harry's head. 'What a grave misdeed has been done to you-'
'Get a grip on yourself, Helga,' said a sharp, female voice briskly. 'It does no good to get agitated. We all know this is a complicated situation.'
Helga? thought Harry bewildered. He had heard that name before. In the Hogwarts Express, Felicity had mentioned the Founders. Were they really-
'Of course we're not the Founders themselves,' spoke the sharp female voice again. 'We are the bits that the Founders used to create the Sorting Hat – we are their judgments. Now keep still and let us speak, there's much we have to discuss.'
'We cannot sort him, Rowena,' interjected a low, deep male voice. 'It's not his time yet. Hence, we posses no right to do so.'
'Oh, but we can't just turn him away!' anxiously retorted Helga's voice – er, judgment, or whatever it was; Harry still felt a bit dazed, confused, and astonished by the whole affair.
'That is not what Salazar meant,' said Rowena sharply. 'The crux of the matter is that the presence of this boy here, in this time and place, is no accident or consequence of a natural event. That much is clear-'
'I'm with Helga in this,' interrupted a strong, vehement voice. 'The boy should stay. Hogwarts will always be a sanctuary for those who need it!'
A snide scoff was let out, before an incisive male voice snapped, 'It is not a matter of giving sanctuary, Godric, but of whether we should sort him or not.'
'Precisely,' interjected Rowena, her tone matter-of-factly. 'As Salazar says, there's no question about the boy staying or not. My Ledger detected him. Thus, despite that his being here should not have happened, he nonetheless has the right to attend Hogwarts. And Hogwarts evidently wishes to protect him. However, we cannot sort him.'
'He must choose himself,' said Salazar firmly.
'Oh well, if that's all, then it's a simple matter,' said Helga's voice with much relief. Then her tone softened as she added warmly, 'My dear child, in my House you will have loyal friends – you will need those. They will warm your heart and they will be your most treasured gift. You will have this in Hufflepuff, my child. And my House will teach you to forgive those who have acted wrongly towards you, bringing you peace, happiness, and tranquility-'
'He does not need peace and he should never forgive!' interrupted the adamant, boisterous voice. 'He needs to become strong and brave, to be able to battle the foes who have committed this nefarious crime against him. My House will prepare you for that, boy. Choose Gryffindor!'
'Nonsense. He needs a sharp, brilliant mind to garner the knowledge he requires to comprehend his situation and thus act accordingly. You need to be in Ravenclaw, boy, it will shape your mind well.'
'He does not require happiness, or courage, or knowledge,' interjected snidely the deep male voice. 'He needs astuteness and cunningness in order to unravel the puzzle that is his existence and hence best his opponents using their own wiles against them – fighting fire with fire!'
It paused and then added gravely, 'It's clear to me that you are the tool of titans, boy, and you'll need to become one yourself if you wish to survive! Only my House can prepare you for that.' The male voice changed into a whispery murmur, 'And you are one of mine, boy. You have my tongue, my blood. There is no other place for you but Slytherin.'
'Choose, my child,' prompted Helga's voice gently.
Agitated and with confused, warring thoughts clashing in his mind, Harry helplessly glanced around him. He saw that many students were staring at him with irritation or impatience. No doubt, to them it had to look as if the Hat was taking too long to sort him.
'Choose!' pressed on Godric's voice adamantly.
At that, Harry glanced at the Prewett twins seated at the Gryffindor table. They were looking at him with expressions of eager anticipation and expectation. Felicity was warmly smiling at him and Felix was giving him a thumbs-up.
'Don't be swayed by such sentiments. Friends is not what you need,' silkily whispered Salazar's voice. 'And you want to be with your... twin, do you not? I've seen him in your mind. He'll be in my House. Do you really want to be separated from him? Look at him!'
Harry's gaze snapped to Tom, who was one of the few first years left standing by the Great Hall's threshold. His brother was frowning, looking slightly worried.
'If you want to be with him, choose Slytherin - SAY IT NOW, boy, or you'll lose him!'
"SLYTHERIN!" Harry bellowed frenziedly. But in the next instant he realized that it hadn't come out of his open mouth. Instead, it seemed to have travelled from his vocal cords, up his head and through the hat, since it had been the Sorting Hat that had yelled the word in its gruff voice.
Harry immediately jumped to his feet and ripped the hat off his head, letting out a haggard pant of breath.
Albus Dumbledore was intently gazing at him over the rim of his half-moon spectacles, his stare piercing, but Harry didn't pay him any attention.
He simply shoved the hat into the wizard's hands and fled as far away from the hat as possible. He ran towards his House's table.