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005. the sorting hat

༊*·˚*· ( 𝒐𝒑𝒖𝒍𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆 ) ੈ✩‧₊˚

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𝙘𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 5

The sorting hat was a grubby old thing that most likely had lice. Ron had said so. She agreed though.

"Has anyone ever washed it?" a random student wondered aloud. The no response to their question from the professors gained the hall some uneasy and disgusted looks.

Suddenly, the hat opened its mouth and began to sing:

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.