[AN] How about if I give you this one early, as penance for forgetting the last one? Sounds fair. Plus, who doesn't like the hat?[/AN]
Chapter 4.5 - A Very Important Hat
The sorting hat was about as giddy as it could ever get, considering that it was a hat. It was also a sad fact of its condition that it wasn't exceptionally tremendous about telling time. It wasn't too shabby when it came to observing, however, and activity in the headmaster's office picked up markedly around the time it got to have its yearly moment of glory. Of course the hat, which this year had christened itself "Martin," would get somewhat worked up over every meeting, but being a hat, it would invariably soon forget. Martin-for-now forgot a lot, not because anything was fading, or had been done improperly, but because it was very, very old. Even the name "Martin" would likely only last a few years, and then it was on to something new.
For most of the year, it worked on its song for the next sorting. The gaps it filled by fondly remembering the students who had worn it; the one thing for which its memory seemed eidetic. It could remember without pause every staff member -even the headmaster- and even the parents, grandparents, and great-grand parents, going back to the founders themselves. The headmaster's grandmother, for example, had been one of the most naïve students Martin-for-now had ever placed. Gryffindor himself had been almost foolishly brave...probably all that time in France with rest of those mounted ponces, and Rowena Ravenclaw...well...she was a minx. Deep down. Perhaps quite deep. But the hat knew. It always knew. Yes, it knew quite a lot, for a hat.
"Well, Jillian," the headmaster said, lifting the hat gently from its stand and examining it carefully. After a bit, he rested it on his head gingerly.
"Was I Jillian?"
"For quite some time," the head master nodded and the hat flopped gently. "Before that I believe you were Bartholomew."
"I like that. I'm Martin now, though," the hat announced.
"Martin..." Dumbledore mused. "Not bad. I rather like the sound of that. Marty the Sorting Hat! It does have a sort of a ring to it, does it not?" The headmaster paused, but Martin-for-now was somewhat distracted, digging in his head. The headmaster was so interesting. "Tell me Martin," he trailed and waited for the hat to respond.
"Eh?"
"Would I still be a Gryffindor, at long last?"
The hat considered this. "It would be tough," Martin-for-now finally admitted. "Even when you were fresh, you were well-suited to all the houses. I suspect you'd have been on the list you asked of me earlier. If you are brave enough to ask for it, Gryffindor is probably as apt a spot as any."
"But?"
"It is the house to which you were most suited then and least suited now."
The headmaster though about that. "I rather felt I had conquered my fear."
"You have," Martin-for-now agreed. "But if I may be so bold..." The hat waited. It knew that Dumbledore was capable of creating a new hat. Perhaps not one so marvelous, that had taken four very accomplished witches and wizards, but one less apt to speak out of line.
"You have nothing to fear from me. I suspect you see my plans for another sorting hat. Merely an academic pursuit."
That was the truth. The hat could spot any lie. "You love much, headmaster. The man who loves, fears. It is the nature of things."
The headmaster considered that. "You are wise."
"For a hat," Martin-for-now humbly added.
"For any of my associates!" The headmaster removed Martin-for-now. Curiously enough, the headmaster seemed to be telling the truth. He truly viewed the hat as an actual associate. Martin-for-now allowed a small measure of pride for that.
"Well, are you ready to become famous?"
"Famous, headmaster?"
"Marty, what you do now for these new students will shape the rest of their lives."
"When you put it like that, headmaster..."
"They trust you. We all trust you. I trust you. And like you said, some are like me...they could succeed in any house. Let us make some fond memories, shall we?"
"Oh indeed, headmaster," Martin-for-now heartily agreed. It had already forgotten its momentary flush of panic. Hats didn't feel panic, anyway, and Martin-for-now was a good hat.
The students were very much the same as the students any year, though he did sense more fear than normal. Fear of the Perfect Slytherin. The hat didn't like to think his name, so that was about as close as it came. They wanted the normal things, and at least half of them were thinking the house they wanted so hard, it made it easier. Children were honest creatures...for the most part they sincerely seemed to want the house that fit them anyway.
Then a different student came. He was...old. Interesting, but not entirely in a pleasant way. He had done some naughty things. The Hat considered him carefully. Putting him with the Ravenclaws was out of the question. He was clever, but in a feral way, like a wild animal that one had to mind all the time. Likewise, he wouldn't make an exceptional Slytherin. Those two houses were closer than either one of them liked to admit, and neither was in him. He would have made a fine Hufflepuff, but Martin-for-now got the nagging feeling the boy didn't want to make friends, and that wasn't for Hufflepuff; not for Hufflepuff at all. Many students would feel honor-bound by the hat's placement to be a friend to the stranger. They might become close, and this student felt a bit like a walking fire. Was he brave? The hat dug through his memories. For the first time in nearly half a century, the hat didn't want to sort a student. The choice was clear, though. The headmaster trusted Martin-for-now though. The students trusted it.
"Gryffindor!"