13 Chapter 13: Better Be…
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1st September 1991, Hogwarts
When they arrived on the other side of the hall, they stopped in front of a stool. On top was a traditional hat, although it looked far older than his own and somewhat rackety. All new students looked at the hat in confusion, that is until it moved and started to sing.
Harry didn't think the song wasn't that bad. It felt more like a poem than anything that could be danced to. The lyrics just explained the characteristics of every house, and that you only had to put him on to be sorted. The boy saw his future classmates physically sigh in relief and Blaise gave him a glare for not telling him about how they were sorted before.
However, Harry didn't care, he was too preoccupied with staring at the sorting hat. It definitely didn't deserve the deafening round of applause. For the first time, Harry wondered when the Hat started to sing before every sorting. It was enchanted to sort the students, it definitely wasn't designed to sing, or its voice would have been far better. So, that means that one day, they decided to sing before sorting the students and it became a tradition.
The main question would be if the hat is sentient or not. Magic seemed to bridge the gap between objects and life. The moving paintings surrounding Hogwarts were proof of that. However, where was the line? Can the sorting hat be labelled as a living being or is it simply an enchantment that is mimicking a living being?
Perhaps this question was the core of why wizards disregarded magical species so readily. They were creatures born of magic, and so, they treated them like they would a very heavily enchanted object. It was just a theory, but it would explain why wizards look down on magical creatures no matter how powerful they may be.
Still, Harry had no idea if his idea had any merit. It was just based on observation, nothing concrete. He'll need to look it up in the library later on. Oh, he was going to be busy for a while.
He was so long in thought that he hadn't even noticed that a girl had been called to sit on the hat, which suddenly bellowed out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"
Realizing that the sorting had started, Harry wondered how the hat even worked. It didn't read minds, that's for sure. At least, it didn't look at memories. Old families are very protective of their secrets and have them stored in a single artefact that every wizard in Britain put on their head when they were eleven, was a huge privacy breach.
People far more knowledgeable than him probably theorized about how the hat worked, and if it came out that it could ferret out secrets, the public outrage would be gigantic, and the hat would find itself burnt or destroyed in a tragic 'accident'.
It had to be a test of character, like a personality test with automatic answers that tells the hat in which house students would fit the most. But the hat could also take into consideration the choice of the students, whether they preferred one house over another, that's not mentioning hat stalls – when the hat stays on top of someone's head for over a minute.
Perhaps the hat could read surface thoughts, or at least projected thoughts, which students with a particular preference would be yelling in their minds. Maybe hat stalls are just what happens when someone is compatible with two or more houses, and the hat needs to probe further by physically asking questions, to see their preference.
But the main question was how the hat could differentiate between the values of each house when they are so connected. Ambition is useless without the courage to pursue it, the wits to know how to realize it, and the hard work to make it a reality. The core values of each house were deeply connected, too much of one or another, and could easily ruin a life. A coward with ambition will not amount to much.
While the young Potter was pondering about the workings of the sorting hat, many students were starting to get sorted. He didn't even notice their names; he would have plenty of time to remember them, but it was almost impossible to regain a proper train of thought.
However, even Harry paid attention when Neville Longbottom's name was called up. The entire hall started murmuring but shut up when the boy who lived walked up. As for the boy himself, he walked towards the hat with swagger in his step, which was very misplaced for a child his age. Well, the boy acted superior to anyone else because of that scar, and well, it made sense. Oh, he was a very foolish notion to entertain, but Harry knew that any kid that was raised as a national hero for something he didn't even remember would develop a large ego.
You tended to see it in spoilt rich kids in muggle schools. Longbottom will need to learn to curb it as he grows up. The world can be very unforgiving for people that think they are owed something. That's not even mentioning the Voldemort bullet that he'll need to dodge. Not for the first time, Harry thanked the gods that the Dark Lord hadn't marked him as his enemy.
Oh, the war was coming, and Harry will need to deal with it, but it wasn't happening for a few years, and it was more than enough to have a solid plan and enough preparation to execute it.
Back to Longbottom, the moment the hat even glanced at the boy's head, it yelled out, "GRYFFINDOR!!"
The Gryffindor table erupted in cheer, it was by far the loudest one yet, and the house of lions started celebrating getting the boy who lived in their house as he arrogantly walked to the table. Harry wished the boy the best of luck dealing with the crap that comes with being the Chosen One; he will need it.
After a few more students were sorted, it was finally Harry's turn, "Potter, Harry!"
Harry walked up to the stool while making theories as to how the hat sorted students. When Professor McGonagall put the hat on his head, he heard a quiet yet rich voice, "interesting, very interesting. Definitely, a difficult sorting that one, no preferences too, but with that mind, that talent, that thirst to understand how everything works, Rowena would have loved to have you as a student. You already figured out that I wasn't reading minds, and your theories are possible enchantments I could have had, but you're mistaken. You'll figure it out one day, of that, I am quite certain."
Harry didn't respond but was quite miffed that his theory was wrong. He'll just have to think on it further. The hat though, wasn't perturbed, "But is knowledge what you truly treasure, what is inside your core? Oh, you love it, the thrill of discovering something new, of understanding. But are you suitable for Rowena's house? Or do you treasure something even more?"
The last Potter remembered a promise he made to himself, 'I will not be nothing again. I will put my mark on the world, forge a legacy of my own, and be remembered in the annals of history.'
The hat released a deep chuckle, "Yes, for all your love of knowledge, this is your core. Your ambition burns brighter than the sun itself. Yes, better be, SLYTHERIN!!"
Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked towards the Slytherin table. When he sat at the table near the other first years, he took a look at the Professor's table.
Professor McGonagall had wide eyes and a small, disappointed frown. She probably expected him to join his parents' house or something. Albus Dumbledore didn't even clap, and Hagrid – who had sat on the far right – was grimacing slightly while clapping. What was the most interesting was the greasy haired man who looked like he swallowed a lemon. Guessing that it was Severus Snape, Harry assumed that whatever relationship there was between him, and Harry's parents wasn't an amicable one.
Harry didn't even notice his tie and vest turn green, as well as the hood of his cloak, which had a Slytherin badge on the left side of his chest. Harry just stayed silent, contemplating the ramifications of his new house.
Slytherin was known as the house of Death Eaters because Tom Riddle was reputed to be the heir of Slytherin. That meant that Harry was practically secluded from the rest of the houses. Honestly, he wasn't really bothered. He knew that he wasn't a bigot, and he rarely ever cared about the words of people who didn't know him. Although as the house which had won the house cup the last year, Slytherin students were allowed special privileges, which included special spell practice rooms and a later curfew, which was a plus.
The elephant in the room would be his new housemates. With blood status being a big deal in this house, it would make things difficult for him since he was a half-blood and his parents fought Voldemort, although, he didn't know if that was common knowledge or not.
There were rumours of house politics in Slytherin and Harry wasn't especially concerned with children and teenagers playing at being politicians. It would barely compare to the academic politics that he had to deal with at university in his previous life.
The sorting ended when Blaise Zabini was sorted in Slytherin and sat next to him. The headmaster got to his feet, silence fell upon the Great Hall. He beamed at the students, his arms opened wide and he spoke.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!"
Ignoring the nonsense, the man was spewing, Harry chose to focus on the headmaster. He was an obviously old man, with a long white beard, and half moon glasses. And yet, he didn't really look like a frail old man. He looked like a muggle on the verge of retirement, just with a large beard, old looking glasses, and ghastly coloured robes. These things were an eyesore.
And yet, considering that the enhanced lifespan of the average wizard was around a hundred and fifty years, Albus Dumbledore was probably around a hundred years old. Not that he knew it for a fact, it was guesswork.
Anyway, the elderly man sat down, and people clapped and cheered. A few first years smiled mockingly at the headmaster, but Harry knew better. No one had that many political positions and was senile. Whatever the headmaster had said wasn't just random world. They had meaning, if only for the man himself.
Still, when the food appeared on the table, he realized how hungry he was and started eating. Harry was never really starved at the Dursleys, but he rarely ate to his full, since he normally ate after Dudley who commonly asked for third servings.
Harry didn't speak to anyone while eating, too lost in his own head to care about the idle small talk the other students were spewing. At least Blaise ended up in the same house at him, so that was a familiar face, somewhat.
After everyone had eaten and the food was gone, Dumbledore stood up again and started what seemed like a regular speech, "Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well. I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."
Everything seemed to go smoothly until the man uttered that last sentence, "And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Well, that was the stupidest thing Harry had ever heard. He should have simply warded the corridor and made it inaccessible. Curious students who would find the wards and be rejected would be the only ones to know that it was forbidden. But telling it in front of children, especially impressionable ones with no experience with magic would be like challenging them to come there, which could be very dangerous.
Well, that was a good start for Harry's magical education.
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Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.
