Harry and the others file into a strangely splendid place lit by thousands of floating candles. They float in midair over four long tables lined with students. Harry looks to the windows below the ceiling and finds glorious stars and an icy blue moon...
"It's not real, the ceiling. It's only bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in 'Hogwarts, A History." Hermione recites like a dictionary. The witch, whom Harry has realized is Professor McGonagall, sweeps to the front of the room where a raggedy old hat sits on a stool.
"Before we begin, Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words." Harry watches in mild disinterest as Dumbledore rises from his seat at the high table.
"Yes, and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you." The great hall thunders with applause and Harry rolls his eyes.
"I hear he's a genius." Hermione, again. As the applause subsides, the hat twitches, a rip opening at the brim and the hat begins to talk.
"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.
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..."
As students clap while the hat bows, Professor McGonagall steps forward with a roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will come forth, put on the hat, and be sorted." Professor McGonagall then begins to list of names, kids stepping up to the chair and being sorted.
Draco gets called up, he gives Harry a comforting look, then goes to get sorted. The hat barely touches his head when it shouts "SLYTHERIN"
"There's not a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin. Draco's father was one of the first to join You-Know-Who when he got power. And one of the first to come back when he lost it." Ron says, speaking directly to Harry. Harry only rolls his eyes and steps away from Ron.
Harry looks up to the high table as, Susan Bones?, gets sorted. Dumbledore watches the proceedings placidly, while Professor Quirrell talks to a hook-nosed man with greasy black hair and sallow skin. Ironically, Harry's first thought about the man is that they look oddly alike.
As though he could feel Harry's gaze, the man turns and looks straight into Harry's eyes. A sharp, hot pain, shoots across Harry's scar almost instantly. And although he can't see it, the man looks slightly worried at that reaction.
Ron then gets called, freeing Harry from the boys' consistent harassment. The hat loudly yells "GRYFFINDOR." The twins, Fred and George, whoop loudly as Ron goes to sit down at the Gryffindor table.
"Harry Potter." Professor McGonagall calls, all chatter stops and Harry makes his way to the stool, avoiding many eyes staring at him. "If you will, Mr. Potter."
Harry sits, takes the hat, and slowly lowers it. He waits, then the hat begins to speak.
"Hmmm... Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh yes, and a thirst to prove yourself. But where to put you...?"
Harry grips the edge of the stool, 'Not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor..'
"Not Gryffindor, eh? Well, better be," the hat pauses before shouting "SLYTHERIN!"
YOU ARE READING
The Fall of Dumbledore: The White King
FanfictionThe Boy Who Lived is a well-known tale. Because that's what it is, a tale. The boy who lived never actually survived Voldemort. He never existed in the first place. The boy known as 'Harry James Potter' is actually 'Hades Evan Snape.' A product of h...
