Outcasts

8

1 September 1991.
That's what Minerva's calendar said and what Hermione has read when she woke up.
She dreaded the day she would have to be in Hogwarts with other people her age. With people who will see her face and whisper. Gossip. Judge.
She didn't want that.

Quietly, she left the room dressed in new clothes except for her robes she was supposed to wear. She knew she should've worn them, but chose not to, because she had a plan. One that she thought would work.

"Meow"

Hermione jumped in fright before she realized it was only Mrs. Norris and not Minerva.
"Oh, hello there, Mrs. Norris" greeted Hermione.

"Meow"

Hermione continued and went to Dumbledore's Office met by no other distractions. Except more meows of Mrs. Norris following her.

"Come in" came the Headmaster's voice before she even knocked.

"Headmaster Dumbledore, I was wondering if I could get sorted maybe earlier or later, perhaps?"

The old man sighed as he got up, revealing the light purple pajamas he was wearing with golden unicorns spread out on them, moving their hooves every so often on their own.

"I understand that you are worried about them seeing that scar but it's nothing to be ashamed about" Dumbledore tried to reason.

"But they'll all stare at me and they won't be nice at all" thought Hermione.

"I understand your concern-"

"Then let me get sorted at a different time!"

Dumbledore went around his desk, and, with another sigh, he looked to the corner of the room with the ancient Sorting Hat.

"Mister Sorting Hat, you are needed a little earlier than expected," called Dumbledore.

The hat on his shelf, the wrinkly brown accessory with a face, opened its eyes and smiled at them.

"May I still sing the song I've prepared?"

"Of course, you can"

The hat cleared its throat, if it had one, and started 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 folks use any means
To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"