look me in the eyes and burn

Chapter 8 - Don't Mess Up Now

The founders of our noble school

Thought never to be parted —

And never did they dream that they

Might some day be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong? —

Thus the houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true. —

But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears. —

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the houses been united

As they once were meant to be. —

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong, —

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows, —

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you ...

Let the Sorting now begin.

The hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbours and Hadrian, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about.

"Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" Said Ron, his eyebrows raised.

"Too right it has," Hadrian answered, a small, almost unnoticeable frown gracing his features.

The Sorting Hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities looked for by each of the four Hogwarts Houses and its own role in sorting them; Hadrian could remember the last time he told this warning and had to wonder why they had not heeded his advise. Why they had ignored its wise words, even while knowing it had been there since the beginning and had seen it all.

"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" Pondered Hermione aloud, sounding slightly anxious.

"Yes, indeed," Nearly Headless Nick nodded knowledgeably, leaning across Neville towards her (Neville winced, it was very uncomfortable to have a ghost lean through you). "The hat feels itself honour-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feels —"

But Professor McGonagall, who was waiting to read out the list of first years' names, was giving the whispering students the sort of look that scorches. Nearly Headless Nick placed a see-through finger to his lips and sat primly upright again as the muttering came to an abrupt end.

With a last frowning look that swept the four House tables, Professor McGonagall lowered her eyes to her long piece of parchment and called out; the sorting began.

Slowly the long line of first years thinned; in the pauses between the names and the Sorting Hat's decisions, Hadrian could hear Ron's stomach rumbling loudly. Finally, "Zeller, Rose" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the hat and stool and marched them away as Dumbledore rose to his feet.