Chapter Summary: Harry and Ron vs a nosy Sorting Hat.
Chapter 9: Under the Hat
Harry waved quickly to Hagrid as the half-giant called the first years over to a dark trail off the station platform. He, Ron, Neville, and Hermione stuck close to one another as they navigated the narrow and steep path in the dark, following the bobbing of Hagrid's lantern up ahead. As they rounded the bend, Hogwarts came into view, massive and majestic on a cliffside. Light flickered from nearly every window as torches and candles lit her from within. Hermione and Neville both gasped and stared in wonder. Ron and Harry grinned to each other as they tugged their friends to the dock where a small fleet of little boats waited. Ron clambered into a boat first then gallantly held his hand out for Hermione who took it shyly as he helped her climb in. Harry held Neville's elbow steady as the boy hesitantly stepped into the boat before slipping and falling onto a seat the moment Harry let go of him.
"Woah, there!" Ron laughed, helping Neville right himself as Harry hopped into the boat, taking the last seat.
All the first years were silent as the boats slid across the smooth lake, staring in awe at the castle as it loomed over them, growing impossibly large the closer they came. As they approached the cliff face, Hagrid called for everyone to put their heads down and they drifted through a curtain of ivy that led into a long, dark tunnel. Harry started as a colored bubble drifted past him. He and Ron laughed as they realized someone two boats ahead of them was conjuring the bubbles. Ron, Harry, and Hermione lifted their wands, conjuring more and joining in the fun. Even Neville tentatively lifted his wand and added his own bubbles to the mix. Giggles drifted from the boat behind them and Harry twisted around to see the Patil twins surrounded by a shower of multi-colored sparks as they popped the bubbles within their reach.
When they reached an underground harbor lined with smooth pebbles, everyone climbed out of their boats. Ron, again, gallantly offered his hand to assist them to shore.
"Oi, you there! Is this your toad?" Hagrid called to Neville, holding Trevor aloft.
"Trevor!" Neville groaned and he held his hands out to accept his miscreant pet. Several of their year mates snickered as Neville stuffed the toad in a pocket. Harry clapped Neville on the back.
"Rotten luck, Nev. We'll get rid of him yet!" he joked. Neville snorted and the children nearby outright laughed at the joke, no longer making fun of Neville for his wayward toad.
They all marched after Hagrid up a steep passageway carved from the rock and spilled out onto the front lawn. A handful of wands were held aloft, conjuring bubbles that dipped and twirled lazily around everyone. Harry was surprised to see Draco's and Pansy's were among them. Hagrid chuckled, a deep rumble like thunder, as he noticed the bubbles and sparks. "That's a new one!" he laughed, black eyes glittering in the lamplight as he reached up and popped a bubble sending a shower of silver sparks over their heads, to Pansy's evident delight.
"All right, everyone here?" he asked, making a silent headcount. Once he had confirmed to himself that he had the same number of children on the lawn as he had at the train station, Hagrid nodded then turned to the massive oak doors, knocking three times.
The door swung open to reveal Professor McGonagall looking sternly out at them. Harry remembered he had been a little intimidated when he first saw her but looking now, he could see that behind the stern gaze, she was regarding them fondly.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she said, pulling the doors wide and ushering everyone into the cavernous entrance hall. Her lips twitched as she caught sight of the bubbles bobbing and sparking around them. The doors to the Great Hall were closed, though they could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from inside. Professor McGonagall led them past and to a familiar antechamber. Harry remembered being questioned in this room by the Heads of three wizarding schools when his name had come out of the Goblet of Fire during his fourth year. He grimaced at the memory as he looked around. Ron shot him a questioning look, but Harry just shook his head.
As Professor McGonagall explained the house system, Harry only listened with half an ear. He was looking around at his classmates, remembering their fates and wondering if he could change some of them. He was contemplating Draco's aid when they had been kidnapped and held in Malfoy Manor when the boy glanced up and made eye contact. Harry twitched his lips in a partial smile and nodded his head once in acknowledgement. Draco's eyes widened slightly in recognition before he cooly nodded in return. When Professor McGonagall suggested they all smarten themselves up and left the room for a few minutes, Draco threaded his way through the crowd and approached Harry. Ron made an exasperated sound quietly, which Harry ignored.
"Did you manage to smuggle your broom in?" Harry asked in greeting.
Draco's nose scrunched up in consternation. "No," he groaned. "I think my mum was on to me."
Harry snorted then gestured to Ron. "This is Ron. He'll be a Keeper eventually. Guaranteed."
Harry stood back and watched as Draco and Ron sized each other up suspiciously. Draco's eyes lingered on areas of wear in Ron's robes then glanced at his hair. "You must be a Weasley," he said.
Ron stood with his arms crossed over his chest and replied cooly, "And you must be a Malfoy."
Draco's eyes flicked toward Harry then back to Ron. Harry could see the Slytherin wheels turning in his head for the briefest moment before Draco opened his mouth again and said, "So, Keeper, eh?"
Ron's brows flew up and he relaxed his stance. "Absolutely. You?"
Draco shrugged, "Chaser or Beater. Not sure yet." Ron blinked and slid a glance to Harry who shrugged.
Before they could continue a stilted conversation about Quidditch, the majority of Hogwarts' ghosts sailed through the room, startling everyone. A few people screamed. Harry was amused to see that Hermione had squeaked before blushing furiously. "I read about them, you know, in Hogwarts, A History. This is supposed to be the most haunted location in all of Britain," she said.
"Did you research Hogwarts before coming?" Draco asked her.
Hermione blinked. "Of course," she said, matter-of-factly.
Draco snorted. "Ravenclaw."
Hermione blushed. "Well, maybe. I'm kind of hoping for Gryffindor, though," she confessed. "I heard that's the headmaster's old house."
Draco rolled his eyes and groaned. "Gryffindor," he pointed to Hermione. "Gryffindor," he pointed to Ron. He narrowed his eyes and pointed to Harry. "Slytherin, please."
Harry smirked and shrugged. "Like I said before, I'd have to watch my back more in Slytherin. Gryffindor's safer."
Draco groaned in annoyance then turned to Neville who was hovering on the edge of the group. "What about you? Slytherin?"
Ron snorted and everyone turned to look at him. "Sorry, mate," Ron said, patting Neville on the back. "But I'm pretty sure that's the last house you'd be sorted into."
Neville smiled sheepishly, though he looked discomfited around Draco. "No, you're probably right. I'm not cunning. At all. And my ambition is mostly to just survive Hogwarts."
Though Draco and Hermione laughed at that statement, Harry felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He glanced at Ron and caught him grimacing, too. So many of their classmates – people in this room – hadn't survived Hogwarts.
Just then, Professor McGonagall returned, shooing the ghosts along and coaxing all the first years into a line. They all trotted along behind her like ducklings into the Great Hall and onto the dais where the teachers were seated. Harry kept his head down as he walked, overcome with memories of the last time he had been to the Great Hall. He carefully avoided looking in the direction of Hufflepuff table which was in the general vicinity of where Remus and Tonks had been laid out. He suddenly realized he was about to walk across the spot where Voldemort had perished. His steps faltered and he stared at the ordinary-looking flagstones until Ron squeezed his shoulder, prodding him onward. Guilt overwhelmed him as he realized this walk would be just as hard for his best friend. He glanced out toward the Gryffindor table, spying Fred who was whispering to Angelina Johnson and snickering.
As Harry walked further along the dais, an uneasiness began to grow in him. It was a familiar and unwelcome sixth sense of Voldemort's presence that he now knew to attribute to the Horcrux in his head. He studied his feet, afraid to lift his eyes and be caught in a Legilimens gaze but he was aware, without looking, as to where Quirrell was seated. He slipped a hand in his pocket and fingered his wand nervously but stayed his hand. There was no point drawing it now and revealing himself, not before destroying the Horcruxes. He breathed slowly and deeply, clearing his mind as the Sorting Hat began to sing.
oOo
Severus sat uneasily at the staff table as the First Years emerged from the antechamber and into the Great Hall, scanning their faces for the infamous Boy-Who-Lived. A feeling of dread was settling in the pit of his stomach as he considered the likelihood that the boy was returning from the future. Potter's friend had already warned him the Dark Lord was returned and here, at Hogwarts! What other horrors did they have in store in their memories? What dangers lurked with the Dark Lord nearby? How soon before his disloyalty would be discovered? Need the Dark Lord just glance into Potter and Friend's minds and learn the truth?
Severus finally spotted Potter near the end of the line of incoming children and his breath caught in his throat. He looked uncomfortably like Potter. James Potter, that is. He was head and shoulders shorter than most of the other boys and looking down at his feet as he walked in. That, at least, was different from his wretched father's arrogance lording over everyone. He almost thought this Potter was timid until he caught a glimpse of his eyes. Lily's eyes exactly. Severus was suddenly reminded of the absolute worst day of his life, when he learned of Lily's death, betrayed by both his masters. Dumbledore had held Lily's eyes against him, using his moment of utter weakness to press him into vowing to protect the horrible boy with her eyes…precisely her eyes, Dumbledore had said. Cold fury rushed through his veins at the memory and Severus adamantly kept his gaze from the headmaster lest he lose control of his rage. The wine in his goblet rippled, a warning sign that the goblet itself was about to rattle. Severus breathed deeply through his nose and cleared his mind. With a slow blink, he Occluded and looked for Potter's time-traveling friend.
Assuming the friend would be close by him, Severus eyed the chubby boy directly in front of Potter. He had blond hair over a round face and managed to look both terrified and awed by his surroundings. Typical First Year getting a first look at the Great Hall. He dismissed the boy from his mind and looked at the one behind Potter. This boy had alarmingly familiar red hair and a quick glance at the Gryffindor table confirmed three sets of Weasley eyes were following the boy's progress along the front of the room. Great, another Weasley, he thought in consternation, his lip curling in a sneer. Weasley was not looking up at the enchanted ceiling nor out over the students seated at house tables. He was watching Potter closely, and when Potter hesitated, staring at a seemingly random spot on the floor with eyes harder than Lily's ever were, Weasley reached forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, giving it a squeeze before dropping it back to his side. Like Potter, Weasley's blue eyes looked older than his years. This was the boy who sent the Crup Patronus.
Weasley's gaze finally moved from the back of Potter's head, scanning the Head Table calculatedly. Severus noticed the boy's eyes narrow imperceptibly immediately as they passed over Quirrell, adding to his own suspicions about the Defense professor sitting at his right elbow. A heartbeat later, Weasley's eyes met his own and he was immediately pulled into a shocking vision of himself lying bloodied and dying, an older, bespectacled Potter crouching over him, shepherding his memories into a flask. Severus jerked his head to the side, cutting the eye contact crudely with a sneer to mask his horror. His pulse pounded loudly and rapidly in his ears as he was consumed with the terror of witnessing his own mortality. Severus fought a silent, internal battle to regain control of his emotions, fully aware that he was facing hundreds of witnesses and sitting directly next to a person of whom he was incredibly suspicious.
By the end of the Sorting Hat's song, Severus' nerves were still frayed, but he was able to Occlude effectively to survive the Welcoming Feast and House introductions. He rather imagined he would be having a full-on meltdown later tonight in his quarters, though.
Throughout the sorting, Severus only spared casual glances at the children sorted into Slytherin – just long enough to note their faces and attach a name to them. Instead, he watched Potter and Weasley's reactions to the sorting. This is where he learned that "Granger, Hermione" was someone of great importance to both of them. She was very nearly a Hatstall and Severus was curious which house she had been considered for before ultimately being sorted into Gryffindor. "Longbottom, Neville" was apparently the boy who shuffled into the Great Hall directly in front of Potter and appeared to inspire feelings of fondness and respect in both boys. His sorting took even longer than Granger's, but he was declared a Gryffindor just shy of the Hatstall mark. Severus noticed Longbottom glance wistfully at the Hufflepuff table as he made his way to Gryffindor's.
It was when "Malfoy, Draco" was called forth where Potter and Weasley's expressions seemed to differ. Weasley had a look of mingled loathing and consternation when the Malfoy boy's name was called. Potter, on the other hand, looked thoughtful, wary, and perhaps even hopeful. There was definitely a story there, but Severus would be damned if he tried using Legilimency on either of them again this evening. Predictably, Malfoy was sorted into his own house before the hat had fully settled on his head.
Potter's name was called.
Severus' lip curled in derision as the Hall was suddenly alive with whispers and craned necks as everyone tried to figure out which of the remaining boys was about to step forward. Once again, Severus was unsettled by the jarring difference between his expectation of Potter and the reality of the Boy-Who-Lived. Severus remembered the boy's father, his own contemporary, who had strutted forward for his sorting, already winking at the students in Gryffindor before placing the Sorting Hat on his head with a flourish. Harry Potter, on the other hand, hesitated again and required a slight shove from Weasley to step forward. Severus was close enough to see the boy clench his jaw before raising his chin and rolling his shoulders back almost defiantly as he walked slowly toward the Hat and stool as if toward his own execution. He noticed the boy was avoiding everyone's eyes the whole way there and was quick to jam the hat over his head, blocking his vision of the very interested audience.
The tip of the Sorting Hat tilted one way then the other before suddenly pointing straight up in alarm. The whole hat shivered, and Severus could see the back of Potter's neck turning red. He glanced at Weasley, but the boy seemed equally baffled. It seemed a foregone conclusion that Potter would be in Gryffindor, yet Severus found himself waiting on tenterhooks.
He waited quite a while. Potter's sorting was a true Hatstall and the crowd was getting restless around the six-minute mark. Severus noticed Potter's knuckles were white where he was gripping the stool under his thighs. Suddenly Potter's hunched shoulders straightened, and the Hat bobbled on his head a moment, its tip pointing straight up again. Severus could only see the Hat's profile from where he was sitting, but it appeared the rip near the brim had turned down in a frown. Potter wouldn't be the first student to argue with the Hat, nor would he be the last, he was certain. But something about this argument felt different from the typical sorting.
Finally, the Hat sent Potter off to Gryffindor and Severus wrenched his gaze from the visibly uncomfortable boy to assess the headmaster's reaction. Albus was clapping politely as the Gryffindors roared in excitement, but his eyes were narrowed and calculating as he watched Potter take a seat next to the Weasley brothers. Unsurprisingly, Minerva looked both pleased and curious before she returned to her list and called forth the next student. As the next child approached the stool, Severus noticed the Hat was watching Potter, a wrinkle midway up forming rather like a creased brow.
Severus paid little attention to the rest of the sorting until "Weasley, Ronald" was called forth. While not qualifying as a Hatstall, Weasley's sorting still took a surprising three minutes and twenty-two seconds, during which time Severus noticed the tip of the Hat wiggle oddly as if it was laughing before it sent the red-faced boy to join his brothers and friends. Minerva was looking thoughtfully between the Hat, Weasley, and Potter, he noticed before she called the final student forward. Severus barely noticed Zabini, Blaise being sorted into his house as he pondered the Hat's reaction to the time travelers. Clearly, the boys had put a metaphorical bee in the Hat's bonnet, so to speak, and he was extremely curious about it. So were most of the staff, it seemed, judging by the thoughtful expressions and glances toward the Gryffindor table he noted on nearly every face.
Throughout dinner, Severus noticed Potter kept his head down and deliberately turned away from the Head Table. He also noticed Weasley occasionally glancing in his direction, often positioning himself as if to block Potter's face from them. Severus contemplated this protective bodily shield and then remembered the Crup Patronus and its assertion that Harry's pants at Occlumency. It made sense then, for a half a moment, but then Severus wondered, why ask him for help and then protect Potter from his gaze? Unless…Quirrell. Quirinus Quirrell was sitting directly next to him. Was he attempting to use Legilimency on Potter? You-Know-Who will be hiding out at Hogwarts this year.
Severus already had his suspicions about Quirrell being somehow involved in the Dark Lord's hiding about the castle. But…if Weasley and Potter were concerned about Quirrell performing Legilimency…no…. Severus remembered Quirinus Quirrell from before his ill-fated sabbatical and could not imagine him capable of the immense focus required of Legilimency. The Dark Lord, on the other hand…Severus froze. Could it be? Could the Dark Lord be somehow sitting directly next to him this very moment? Was he controlling Quirrell? How so? Possession? Imperius? He cleared his mind fastidiously and eyeballed the man's ridiculous turban. The turban and the stutter were new additions to the former Muggle Studies professor. If the Dark Lord was possessing him…could the turban be hiding evidence of that possession?
Severus casually looked away, mindlessly scanning over the Slytherins as he considered the possibility. If that was the case, then Potter and Weasley would be at risk if ever they were cornered by him. Their knowledge of what is to come could be ripped from their heads and exploited. While he didn't yet know what all that would entail, he had no doubts it would be a very bad outcome. He would need to act fast to teach them both to protect their minds.
The students rose and Prefects began leading First Years to their dormitories. Severus rose as well and stepped out the side door, contemplating how to arrange a secret meeting with two Gryffindor boys before they could conceivably earn a detention with him. Fortune appeared to favor him as he passed a row of Suits of Armor and one of Hogwarts' many ghosts emerged from one of the suits. It was the Black Knight. Nobody knew who he was nor who he had served in life, but in death the Black Knight served Hogwarts with honor. Severus gestured to the Knight and whispered a message to him. The Knight, dark ghostly eyes glittering behind his visor, gave a single, wordless nod and floated down the corridor then drifted upward through the ceiling to deliver his message.
Severus continued on downward to the dungeons to ensure his Slytherins settled into their dormitory before retiring to his own quarters where he intended to finally let go of the tight control he had been holding ever since glimpsing his own death in Weasley's eyes.
oOo
"Potter, Harry." As soon as Professor McGonagall called his name the atmosphere of the Great Hall became charged with energy. All eyes snapped forward, necks craned, whispers filled the room with sibilant hisses that almost sounded like the hissing of a thousand serpents. Or, well, what Harry imagined they would sound like, seeing as hissing serpents sounded to him like perfectly normal Queen's English, thank you very much. At least until the Horcrux inside of him gets evicted again. His eyes strayed back over to the flagstones where Voldemort finally met his death. Ron interrupted Harry's rabbit trails of thought with a small shove. Oh, right.
Glancing up and out over the Hall at all the expectant faces, Harry barely held in a cringe. He grit his teeth, lifted his chin and strode forward to the stool, picking up the Hat and jamming it on his head as he sat down. His eleven-year-old body was small enough that the brim fell down to his nose, mercifully blocking his view of the Hall.
Immediately, Harry felt the intrusion in his mind. It felt like when Snape would perform Legilimency on him. Moments from his life floated to the surface. Harry instinctively tried to stop it, tried to clear his mind, but he had never been very good at that. All the practice he had done over the summer seemed to be for naught once faced with actual Legilimency. And, really, how was a hat able to do that?
A soft chuckle reverberated in his ear. "The Founders were quite powerful, Harry Potter," the hat whispered. "They made me. They gave me the ability to use Legilimency so I might sort all the little wizards and witches who came after them." It paused and Harry, still struggling to clear his mind, was frustratingly helpless to block the memories it dredged up. First were memories with a common theme of learning, intelligence, and wit. Glimpses of primary school and the Dursley's discouraging him from outperforming Dudley. But then there were glimpses of Hogwarts and late nights studying, cramming, writing essays. "Oh my," the Hat whispered. "Well, well, well. This is unprecedented."
Next were memories of Harry's loyalty and work ethic. Again, the memories began with the Dursley's and hours of manual labor. But they were soon replaced with memories of Ron and Hermione and the fierce bond between them. Most prominent were memories of the drudgery of being on the run during what should have been their seventh year of school. "Good gravy," the hat whispered, sounding flummoxed.
Memories of ambition and cunning came next. Harry fought even more furiously to occlude. Since clearing his mind was obviously not working, he tried to push the Hat out by force. NO! The hat jolted over his head and suddenly Harry remembered, clear as day, a pale woman with long black hair and a thick Scottish brogue that reminded him fondly of Professor McGonagall. She was studying him intently, her wand pointed at his face while she chanted something in Latin but somehow Harry didn't feel threatened. A moment later another woman was in front of him in much the same position, pointing her wand kindly toward him. She had blue eyes set in a round face. Her hair was brown, and she had a wide smile. Her enchantment came in a Welsh accent. As she finished, she was teasingly elbowed aside by a tall, muscular man with green eyes and long, wavy red hair and beard. Harry briefly and stupidly wondered if the man was related to his mum. Of course not. He's a wizard and Mum was Muggle-born, he reminded himself. The wizard's voice was gravelly, and he chanted in an Old English accent. As he concentrated on Harry's face, his gaze became focused and stern. The final face to come into view was vaguely familiar. A tall man with a prominent brow and cheekbones slinked forward. He had a long, thin gray and white beard. His dark eyes gleamed and Harry felt oddly unthreatened by the wand pointed at his face, though something inside of him was urging caution. He should be threatened by this man. Why wasn't he? The wizard's accent was a lilting mixture of Old English and Irish.
As quick as it began, the memory ended, and Harry was staring at the dark inside of the Sorting Hat. "By the Founders!" the Hat swore in his ear. "Never in all my years has a student reverse-Legilimized me!" the Hat sounded scandalized.
Oh. The Founders. A feeling of awe descended over Harry as he realized he had just seen the faces and heard the voices of all four of Hogwarts' founders. He must have seen them enchanting the Sorting Hat. Salazar Slytherin! That's why he felt as if he should be threatened by the man at the end. That memory must have occurred before Slytherin went off the deep end and left a great bloody basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets to hunt out Muggle-born students!
The hat squawked in his ear. "A basilisk?!" A memory of Slytherin's monster bubbled upward. Harry started to fight it then changed tactics and pointedly thought, You're one-quarter of Salazar Slytherin, right?
"More like one-quarter of me is Salazar Slytherin," the hat replied.
Fine, whatever. I have a question for the Salazar Slytherin quarter of you, Hat.
"Oh?"
What the bloody hell were you thinking?! That basilisk could have killed anybody! It did kill somebody! One of the ghosts in the school is one of your victims! A schoolgirl!
"A Muggle-born?"
DOES IT BLOODY MATTER?
"Perhapsss…" It was an eerie sibilant whisper, slightly different from the hat's normal voice.
Harry gripped the stool he was sitting on so hard he felt as if his fingers would go through the wood. He thought furiously and pointedly of the Final Battle when Voldemort bound the Sorting Hat to Neville's head and set it on fire.
"Egads!" The Hat nearly leapt off Harry's head. Instead, it just wobbled side to side.
Do you want unity at Hogwarts, or not? Harry thought, angrily.
"Yes, more than anything," the hat whispered back, earnestly. Harry detected traces of Scottish, Welsh, and Old English in the answer. There may have even been a hint of lilting Irish.
Then sort me into Gryffindor and keep your mouth shut. Don't tell anyone what you've seen here.
He could feel the hat's displeasure. "Surely you should tell…ah, I see. You will tell someone. Just not this headmaster. Interesting…"
Harry growled quietly at the hat's constant use of Legilimency on him and his stupid inability to block it.
You MUST keep quiet, Hat. Albus Dumbledore is a great man and a great headmaster…but he has his limits. He will be tempted…far too tempted. He must not know!
Against his will, an image from The Tales of Beedle the Bard came forward, followed by a rapid succession of memories of Dumbledore's wand, Harry's cloak, and the Resurrection Stone. Harry railed against the memories but was unable to stop them as the hat saw Voldemort strike him with Avada Kedavra, then saw Harry yank his invisibility cloak off in the Great Hall to face down the Dark Lord, the Expelliarmus that won the duel, and finally the Veil of Death that brought him back in time.
The hat gasped in his ear. "You are the Master of Death," it whispered in awe.
You must. Not. Tell. Dumbledore.
"No, I won't. I shall keep your secret, Ancient One," the hat whispered.
…Ancient One? Harry wondered. Weren't the Peverell brothers around after Hogwarts?
"Oh yes, I remember the Peverell brothers. Yes, indeed. They created the tools you used and may perhaps use again. But the True Master of Death is much older than they. Lore of the Master was ancient to the Founders, even."
I'm only eighteen, Harry pointed out. Or, well, eleven, I suppose. One or the other, depending how you look at it.
The hat chuckled again. "Depending how you look at it, you are a child, a man, an ancient being."
Harry felt confused and exhausted by the conversation.
"No matter. Be assured, Ancient One, I shall keep your secret from nosy headmasters. And based on the memories I have seen from you, I have no qualms about returning you to GRYFFINDOR!" The hat shouted the last word for the whole Hall to hear and a roar erupted from the Gryffindor table. Exhausted, Harry pulled the hat from his head and placed it back on the stool before trudging to sit next to the Weasley's, smiling wanly as the twins thumped him on the back and Percy shook his hand exuberantly, profusely welcoming him to the house.
oOo
"Weasley, Ronald," Professor McGonagall called. Ron cut a glance down at the Gryffindor table to Harry and his brothers as he stepped forward. He wasn't too concerned about which house he would end up in. He was a Gryffindor, for sure. He was immensely curious about Harry's sorting, though, and couldn't wait to corner him later to ask about it. He climbed up on the stool – gods, he was short! – and McGonagall dropped the hat on his head.
"Well, well, well. What have we here?" the hat whispered in his ear.
Ron found himself remembering playing chess, which he thought was a rather odd thing to be thinking about right now. But that thought led to McGonagall's giant chess set guarding the Philosopher's Stone and he felt a moment of pride at beating his Head of House's game.
Wait a minute. Was this Legilimency? Was the Sorting Hat reading his mind?
"Yes," the hat chuckled.
"Bloody buggering hell," Ron whispered, low enough McGonagall wouldn't overhear.
"Oh, don't get your pants in a twist," the hat replied. "I use Legilimency merely to sort you, not to reveal your secrets to all and sundry."
Ron snorted. Harry told you to keep your mouth shut, didn't he? He thought to himself.
The hat merely grumbled unintelligibly, and Ron found himself thinking about all the times he followed Harry into one mad escapade after another.
"You are quite a loyal friend to Mr. Potter," the hat whispered.
Don't you dare put me in Hufflepuff, Ron thought indignantly. I'm a Gryffindor, and you know it.
The hat chuckled again.
Ron was suddenly reminded of his worst mistake – when he had left Harry and Hermione in the Forest of Dean. There, see? I'm not loyal enough for Hufflepuff, he thought miserably, still overcome with guilt for abandoning his friends when they all were at their lowest.
"Hmm. And yet you returned to them as soon as you could," the hat mused. "Nobody is perfect. Everyone has their failings, even at their strengths."
An ugly memory bubbled forth of an entire swarm of acromantulas chasing him and Harry through the Forbidden Forest. Apparently, Ron was embarrassed to remember, he had shrieked and squealed like a little girl.
Ugh, fine. Point taken. Just sort me into Gryffindor, already.
"Just a moment more…"
Ron was disconcerted to find himself thinking about the Mirror of Erised and how it showed him as Head Boy and Quidditch Captain, clutching both the House Cup and the Quidditch Cup.
"Ambitious," the hat teased.
"You wouldn't!" he whispered out loud, horrified at the thought of being sorted into Slytherin.
The hat chuckled again. "Fear not, Ronald Weasley," it whispered in his ear. "It is not my place to interfere with Fate. Use your wit, cultivate your cunning, and remain loyal to your friends. All this while you return to GRYFFINDOR!"
Ron sagged with relief and yanked the hat from his head, giving it a squinty-eyed look as he set it back on the stool. Threatening him with Slytherin and Hufflepuff of all things! It curled its tip and made a shooing motion in the direction of the Gryffindor table. Ron gave it one last look before joining Harry and his brothers. "Absolutely mental," he muttered to himself of the hat as he slid into the seat next to Harry. Harry snorted and grunted in agreement.
A/N: I know some of you wanted to see them in different houses. Sorry! I am trying to keep their personalities as close to canon as possible and I have a hard time seeing either Harry or Ron abandoning Gryffindor. Too much house pride, I think. That said, I do enjoy reading stories that explore characters being in different houses. I hope you enjoy this, anyway!
I have one (almost two) more chapters prepped and then it will take a bit longer for updates. I apparently don't have the focus and executive functioning skills to work on one story at a time. I am working on at least 5 stories right now and just write wherever I'm inspired to write, whenever I'm inspired to do so. I keep adding one-shots as they come to me. I have a few more story ideas sitting in my notes that I occasionally start poking around at. Basically, I'm a mess. I wish I could be better for those of you following the story as I'm posting it.
Anyway, next chapter will find the Black Knight delivering Snape's message and people pushing other people's buttons.