Disclaimer: I ain't gots nufink, mate.
/wat
The Sorting Hat was rarely curious before being placed on somebody's head, but gazing out into the crowd of fresh Hogwarts students, he couldn't help but wonder about the one in the yellow-gold vest and bowtie. He organized the students as he always did, but kept his metaphorical eye on the one in the yellow. When it was finally that one's turn, the Sorting Hat saw a definite reason as to why that one was so odd.
Harry Potter, eh? the Hat mused as the boy took a seat on the stool. It would be interesting to see what was going on in the boy's mind...
McGonagall, regarding Harry's attire apprehensively, placed the Sorting Hat on Harry's head of unruly hair. The scream that followed would chill the blood of Voldemort himself. And it did, underneath Quirrell's turban.
The Sorting Hat could no longer see the world around him. His mind was flooded with horrid, sickening images – pure men and women, children, and the saintly subjected to the most dehumanizing and cruel tortures. He saw a woman being raped by a goat in the middle of a pentagram, the nude bodies of her loved ones on pikes around her.
He saw children feasting upon the carcasses of their parents and wild animals. He saw Harry Potter, carving crude images onto the backs of sleeping orphans and the ailed. A burning hospital, atop which Harry lounged aside a- a-
The cruelest and most dastardly kind of creature every to roam the mortal plane or the Hells Beneath. The Sorting Hat knew its name, which Harry had always called it by with respect and even love.
Bill Cipher.
It was too much. The images only got worse and worse, and the Sorting Hat genuinely feared for what was left of his sanity. Luckily, McGonagall had recovered and knocked the Hat off Harry's head.
This was when the Hat realized he was screaming. Had he been capable of tears, the Hat would have been sobbing by now. As it was, he shook uncontrollably, and was glad when McGonagall's gentle arms picked him up.
"Headmaster!" managed the Hat, his magical voice hoarse from screaming.
Dumbledore was already standing. "Yes?" he prompted.
"Speak with you- Private- Now. Bring the- the-" His flap of a mouth twisted into a fearful and disgusted grimace. "Bring the Hellchild."
Concerned and curious, Dumbledore gestured for Harry to follow him. McGonagall, Sorting Hat in her hands, trailed not far behind. The Great Hall watched them disappear through the side door, each noting individually how Harry seemed to be unfazed. Draco, despite his upbringing, found himself theorizing enthusiastically with Hermione – the only other one in the room whom had met Harry prior to entering Hogwarts. The other Gryffindors, old and new, weren't too thrilled about having a Malfoy approach their table, but they had to admit that Draco had some pretty cool ideas about Harry Potter.
It wasn't long before the entire student body was openly and loudly wondering what in the name of Merlin's mother had happened. Even Snape was starting to hazard guesses – he and Pamora Sprout had constructed an intricate and ludicrous theory by the time Dumbledore, McGonagall, Harry and the Hat returned.
Snape watched them like a hawk. Ten years ago, when he'd gone to Godric's Hallow to investigate, Harry Potter had not been among the bodies in the house. He wondered where he'd been for the past decade, and what the hell he had been doing.
Dumbledore, an oddly tense hand on Harry's extremely relaxed shoulder, magically projected his voice when he spoke. The Hall was silent.
"In lieu of recently discovered variables, I, Professor McGonagall, and above all the Sorting Hat have come to a momentous decision," Dumbledore said. "Harry Potter will not be sorted into any of our current and historical Houses."
The bated silence of the Great Hall erupted into unnecessarily loud inquiries and objections. Dumbledore raised his hand for silence. "Due to my own desire to have Mr. Potter attend Hogwarts, and the Sorting Hat's inability-" By this, he meant 'unwillingness', "-to place him in Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Slytherin, we have decided to institute an entirely new Hogwarts House."
Dumbledore waited for the noise to die down again, and beamed at Snape from halfway across the table. The greasy man was bending all the cutlery with just his thumb and his outrage. It amused Dumbledore. At last, it was quiet, and Dumbledore continued: "It is my great honor to announce the installment of House..." He trailed off, and gave a small laugh, completely oblivious to the frustrated and confused faces all around him. "Well, we haven't decided a name yet. I'll get back to you all on that."
McGonagall took over. "Professor Trelawney was appointed to be the Head of this House," she informed them. "As there is currently only one student, this new House will not participate in Quidditch, but will still take part in the competition for the House Cup."
McGonagall conjured a small table off to the side, by the Gryffindor table, and Harry was directed over there. The Sorting Ceremony continued, but the Hat seemed almost in a daze from then on.
The question would be on the lips of almost every student and faculty member for the next several years: just what had been going on in Harry Potter's head that day? If there was a just god in their world, none of them would ever have to find out.
A.N./ I gotta say, I'm pretty pleased with the results of the poll. Once I thought of the concept of a whole new House for Harry, I was definitely rooting for it. And thanks to everyone who's been reading this story – it really makes my day to know that people enjoy it. :) Any suggestions in regards to the name of Harry's House would be greatly appreciated, btw. Just sayin'. Thank all you guys again, have an internet cookie. There's a good lad.