Chapter 17

1st of September, 1991
Platform 9¾

"So, have you heard about the Sorting?" Ron asked, his voice hushed as if afraid the walls might hear. "My brothers told me it's absolutely terrifying."

Harry looked intrigued. "Really? Like what?"

Harry and Ron sat together in an empty compartment on the Hogwarts Express, having only met a couple of hours ago. Ron had entered after him, asked if he could sit here - and Harry saw no reason to refuse. He knew a bit about the Weasley - Aunty had told him they were also clients of Dumbledore, even though the notion of patron and client was quite hard to understand. He was not sure he got it.

"Well," Ron began, his eyes wide with apprehension, "Fred and George have said it changes each year. One time, the student had to fight a troll. They say it was to see how you handle yourself in a crisis. If you fought bravely, you got Gryffindor. If you outsmarted it, you got Ravenclaw. If you showed compassion, you got Hufflepuff. And if you used the troll to your advantage... Slytherin."

The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels provided a comforting backdrop as they tentatively got to know each other. Harry leaned back, munching on a chocolate frog, while Ron fidgeted nervously with the hem of his jumper. Harry raised an eyebrow, suppressing a grin. "Fight a troll? That's intense." He perfectly knew about the sorting hat - Nymmy had tried to make him believe wild stuff too, before Aunty had reprimanded her - he had been fucking terrified, fight a dragon ? - and, against the customs, had explained to him what would happen.

Ron nodded fervently. "And it gets worse. George said that this year, we might have to sing in front of the whole school. And not just any song. Apparently, it's a magical song that reveals your true character. If your voice is brave, you get Gryffindor. If it's wise, Ravenclaw. Loyal, Hufflepuff. Cunning, Slytherin."

"Sing in front of everyone? That sounds nerve-wracking", he snorted. His brothers seemed like fun guys.

"Oh, it is," Ron said, shivering slightly. "But the third theory is even crazier. Fred claims we will have to play a game of Wizard's Chess against a Sphinx. The way you strategize determines your house. The Sphinx never loses, and if you lose too badly, you get sent home."

Harry burst out laughing.

"But the most insane theory," Ron continued, starting to doubt his brothers - now that he said it aloud, it seemed a bit…"is that you have to complete an obstacle course with enchanted hurdles. One part has you riding a broom through flaming hoops, another has you deciphering ancient runes while dodging hexes. They say if you fall off the broom, you're out of luck for Gryffindor."

As the laughter died down, Ron asked more seriously, "So, have you heard much about the Sorting, really?"

"A bit," Harry replied, his expression softening. "My Aunt Andromeda went to Slytherin and my big sister Tonks—well, she's like a sister, really—went to Hufflepuff. They told me it's for people who are loyal to their friends."

Ron looked at Harry, intrigued. "You think you'll be in Hufflepuff then?"

Harry shrugged, but there was a fiery determination in his eyes. "Maybe. They said Hufflepuffs are the ones who stand by their friends no matter what. I want to protect the ones I love. So, yeah, maybe Hufflepuff. But I'll see, I guess…"

Ron nodded slowly. "I reckon I'll be in Gryffindor. All my family were. But as long as it's not Slytherin…"

Harry tilted his head, considering. "Why does everyone hate Slytherin so much?"

"Well, they're known for being cunning and ambitious. But mostly, it's because a lot of dark wizards came from there," Ron said, wrinkling his nose.

"Yeah, but we're talking about kids. Some of them might be jerks, sure, but they're still just kids. They could change."

Ron looked surprised. "You think so?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "Besides, Dude-buldore told me the whole House system is stupid anyway."

Ron's jaw dropped. "You met Dumbledore?" - before he scolded himself. Of course the Boy-Who-Lived had. Harry was so normal and nice he had forgotten about that. He scowled even more.

"Yeah," Harry said casually. "And he said things about why the House system is flawed. First, we're eleven. Sorting us based on traits we haven't even fully developed yet is just... well, it's like deciding your life's path before you've even started walking."

Ron nodded, eyes wide. "Makes sense", he said. Dumbledore had told Harry that ?

"Second," Harry continued, "it creates divisions. We're all supposed to be united as Hogwarts students, right? But instead, we're split into these houses, which makes us compete against each other instead of working together."

"Wow," Ron said, genuinely impressed. He hadn't even thought about that !

"Third," Harry went on, "Dumbledore said it pigeonholes us. If you're sorted into Gryffindor, you're expected to be brave. Hufflepuff, loyal. Ravenclaw, smart. Slytherin, ambitious. But people are more complex than that. We have a bit of everything in us."

Just then, the door to their compartment practically exploded off its hinges. Smoke poured in, filling the air with a thick, choking fog. Harry and Ron leapt up, coughing and squinting through the haze. Out of the smoke emerged a figure dressed head-to-toe in a tight red and black suit. The suit was peppered with an array of mismatched utility belts and pouches, and the person wore an oversized, glittering police hat with "HOGWARTS POLICE" emblazoned on it in sequins. He struck an exaggerated pose, a toy gun in one hand and a rubber chicken in the other.

"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" he bellowed, "This is a magical raid, kiddos!"

Harry and Ron stared, utterly flabbergasted. They hadn't moved a muscle, let alone drawn any weapons.

"What the heck is going on?" Ron whispered.

"I have no idea," Harry replied, equally confused.

The bizarre figure, still shrouded in smoke, scanned the compartment. "CONSTANT VIGILANCE". His eyes, visible through the mask's holes, sparkled with a kind of manic glee. "Even though I have no eyes, as I'm a Golem ! Yohohoho!"

His gaze finally locked onto Ron's rat, Scabbers, who was trembling in Ron's pocket.

"Aha!" the man exclaimed, brandishing the rubber chicken menacingly. "The culprit! Hand over the rat, kid. It's creepy having an adult sharing your bed."

Ron gaped at him. "What are you talking about? Scabbers is just a rat!"

The red-suited intruder advanced, snatching Scabbers with a flourish. "Just a rat, my red-suited ass! This little furball is under investigation for unauthorized bed-sharing and general creepiness."

Before either Harry or Ron could react, the man tossed another smoke bomb to the floor. The compartment filled with even more smoke, and when it cleared, he and Scabbers were gone.

Ron and Harry stood there, coughing and waving their hands to clear the air.

The masked head popped back into the compartment. "By the way, kids, remember: Stay in school, don't do drugs, and always eat your vegetables. Ta-ta!" With that, he disappeared again, leaving behind a cloud of glitter.

"What the bloody hell just happened?" Ron sputtered, eyes wide with shock.

Harry shook his head, equally baffled. "I have no idea. Did he just arrest your rat?"

Ron looked at the empty spot where Scabbers had been moments before. "I think he did."

1st of September, 1991
Hogwarts

In the gloomy confines of Severus Snape's office, where joy went to die and even the dust motes seemed to slink about in despair, the man himself brooded with all the intensity of a storm cloud. Shelves crammed with bizarre and unnerving potion ingredients lined the walls, each jar seemingly labeled with a grudge. Severus, with his sallow skin and perpetually sour expression, sat hunched over his desk, which was strewn with scrolls, vials, and a small, neglected cactus that had long given up on life.

His fingers, spider-like and pale, tapped a rhythm of discontent on the wood as he pondered his many grievances. The students, who were uniformly hopeless. The colleagues, who were uniformly irritating. And Albus Dumbledore, who was uniformly… well, everything.

Suddenly, with a sound like a balloon being deflated by a farting ghost, a figure appeared in front of Snape. He jerked back, his chair squeaking in protest, and his wand leapt to his hand. His lips began to curl into the start of a curse when the figure spoke.

"Ho ho ho! Severus, my boy!"

Snape froze. The voice was unmistakable. Dumbledore. But the vision before him was something entirely new. There stood the headmaster, clad in a garish red and black spandex suit, complete with a glittery police hat proclaiming "HOGWARTS POLICE" in sequins. Snape's wand arm fell limp in sheer bewilderment.

With the grace of a drunk acrobat, Dumbledore began to peel off the spandex. The silence was punctuated by his jolly, almost maniacal laughter, which echoed like a chorus of particularly mischievous pixies.

"And to say the fuckers…I mean, the kids bought it! Ha! A talking, sentient golem…who do they take me for, Merlin?!"

Snape's eyes widened as Dumbledore's impressive physique emerged. The headmaster looked to be in his prime, with a neatly trimmed beard framing a jawline that could have been chiseled from granite. His chest and arms, revealed as the spandex fell away, were those of a man who clearly wrestled trolls for fun. Snape found himself both very impressed and deeply unnerved. The absurdity of the situation was almost too much to process.

"Headmaster... what in the name of Merlin's saggy left...?" Snape stammered, his usual eloquence failing him in the face of such lunacy.

Dumbledore, now clad only in a pair of boxers adorned with tiny dancing dragons, held up a rat by its tail. The creature wiggled pathetically, clearly as confused as Snape.

"Ah, Severus, my dear boy, caught this little rascal myself! Thought I'd add a bit of flair to the process, you know? After all, I'm Albus Fucking Dumbledore!"

Snape's brain struggled to catch up. "And you decided... spandex was the appropriate attire for this task?"

Dumbledore beamed, flexing an arm in a way that made his biceps bulge impressively. "Why not, Severus? Keeps the muscles limber and the mind sharp! Plus," he added with a wink, "it's always fun to see the look on your face."

For a moment, Snape could only stare. The situation was so far beyond the pale that even his habitual sarcasm abandoned him. He settled for a long-suffering sigh. "If you ever apparate into my office in such a manner again, Headmaster, I will ensure you…"

Dumbledore interrupted, his presence suddenly electric, his eyes glinting with a power that seemed to vibrate in the air. "What are you going to do, Severus?" he asked, his voice low and resonant, like distant thunder.

Snape gulped, taking an involuntary step back, his bravado dissolving under Dumbledore's intense gaze.

With a deft wave of his hand, Dumbledore transformed the neglected cactus on Snape's desk into an ornate, shimmering cage, its bars humming with enchantments. He swiftly tossed the wriggling rat inside. At that precise moment, Fawkes appeared in a burst of dazzling flames. The bird swooped down, clasped the cage in his talons, and vanished in a flash of light.

Dumbledore then touched one of three stones embedded in a discreet necklace around his neck. The stones were unusual—one like molten gold, another like a shard of moonlight, and the last, a piece of a stormy sky. As his fingers brushed the largest stone, a viscous liquid oozed from it, enveloping Dumbledore in a swirling, shimmering cocoon. Moments later, he emerged, now clad in an impeccably tailored suit.

He stood before Snape, a figure of striking authority and strength. His neatly trimmed beard framed a face that seemed chiseled from marble, his eyes sharp and knowing. The suit accentuated his broad shoulders and muscular frame, each movement fluid and powerful. Dumbledore looked every inch the formidable wizard he was, a man not to be trifled with.

"Now, Severus," Dumbledore said, his voice steady and commanding, "let us discuss the matter at hand."

Snape's eyes narrowed, but before he could respond, Dumbledore continued, "There are rights to be wronged, Severus. And we must go to a nightclub to right them."

"What ?"

Without warning, Dumbledore's hand latched onto Snape's arm, and with a sharp crack, they apparated.