Chapter 64 - The Sorting
"Abbott, Hannah!"
A nervous blonde girl hurried forward and sat on the stool. The Sorting Hat barely touched her head before shouting,
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Our table erupted into applause and cheers.
I clapped politely along with the others while Hannah hurried toward our table, looking relieved.
After that came more names.
"Bones, Susan!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Terry Boot!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
Soon the sorting continued exactly as I remembered from canon and from my own first year. Nervous children walked forward one after another while the Sorting Hat decided their future in a matter of seconds.
Most students looked terrified. Some looked proud, they were probably from old wizarding families. Few of them even seemed like they might faint before even touching the stool.
Then came a bushy-haired girl with an eager expression.
"Granger, Hermione!"
The Sorting Hat barely covered her head before shouting,
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table cheered loudly. Hermione practically ran toward them looking proud and excited.
A few names later came Neville Longbottom, who almost tripped before reaching the stool. Neville, the other other unfortunate child, who might have been the prophesised child had Voldemort chosen him. He was lucky that time, but fate had played him the same card. His parents were alive but barely. He had been even traumatised by that night they were attacked. As thoughts churned in my mind, the Hat loudly announced his House.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Then finally the moment arrived.
"Potter, Harry!"
The entire Great Hall changed at that instant. Gasps spread everywhere instantly. Whispers exploded across all four tables.
"Did she say Potter?"
"Harry Potter?"
"The Harry Potter?"
Even older students stood slightly to get a better look. I could feel the tension in the air physically.
Even the professors suddenly looked far more focused.
Professor McGonagall's eyes sharpened as she stared at Harry who was approaching the stool beside her.
Flitwick leaned forward slightly. Snape stared intensely at Harry with an unreadable expression and his faced remained stoic with no hint of what he was feeling looking at him.
Even Dumbledore watched quietly over his half-moon glasses.
Around me, the Hufflepuff table buzzed loudly.
"That's really him?"
"He looks so normal."
"Where's the scar?"
I glanced farther down the hall and spotted a very familiar senior at the Hufflepuff table, Nymphadora Tonks.
Her hair was rapidly flickering between pink, purple, blue, and bright red every few seconds. She looked absurdly excited.
When she noticed me looking, she grinned widely and waved both hands dramatically toward Harry like an overexcited child.
I immediately pretended not to know her.
Harry walked slowly toward the stool while the entire hall watched him.
Even Dudley looked nervous for him.
Harry placed the Sorting Hat onto his head.
Then silence fell across the Hall as everyone waited. Seconds passed. Then more seconds.
It was taking longer than normal.
The hall became quieter and quieter.
The Sorting Hat was taking its time. It was almost a Hatstall.
I narrowed my eyes slightly.
Finally the hat shouted loudly,
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The Gryffindor table exploded with cheers. Fred and George Weasley were among the loudest.
"We got Potter!"
Harry quickly removed the hat and hurried toward the cheering table.
I clapped along automatically, though inwardly I felt surprised.
I had spent the last three years making sure Harry did not grow up hating Slytherin like in canon. I had explained every house and their characteristics fairly. I had never painted Slytherin as evil.
I had drilled in them that the House selection is not the absolute indication of a person. After all, a Slytherin is the most hated and dreaded man, but another Slytherin is someone who lived only for the memories of an already dead person, and would do absolutely anything to kill the person guilty of Her death.
So why Gryffindor again? Several possibilities immediately came to mind.
Maybe Ron had already convinced him during the train ride.
Maybe the Sorting Hat genuinely thought Gryffindor suited Harry best.
Or perhaps…
A darker thought crossed my mind.
Maybe Dumbledore wanted Harry under his direct observation inside Gryffindor. And if Dumbledore had asked the Sorting Hat...
Well.
I pushed that thought aside for now. I would ask Harry later whether Gryffindor had been his own choice.
Soon another name was called.
"Dursley, Dudley!"
A few Hufflepuffs beside me immediately looked toward me.
"Your brother?" one asked.
I nodded. "Yes."
One older student laughed softly. "Looks like Hufflepuff's getting another one."
Honestly, I had thought the same.
Dudley walked toward the stool looking nervous but determined. The hat settled over his head.
This time the decision came much faster.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Now that surprised me properly. The Gryffindor table cheered again as Dudley hurried toward Harry and Ron, looking relieved. Around me several Hufflepuffs looked disappointed.
"Well," one of them sighed dramatically, "there goes another one."
I chuckled quietly.
Honestly, after thinking about it, the choice made sense.
Dudley was not particularly shy or humble. He was loud, stubborn, reckless, and strangely brave whenever it truly mattered.
Especially reckless.
That probably explained Gryffindor perfectly.
Soon the sorting ended completely. Professor McGonagall collected the Sorting Hat and stool while Dumbledore rose slowly from his chair. The hall immediately quietened. One has to say, Dumbledore's aura was too strong, and he wasted no chance to aura farm.
"Welcome," Dumbledore said warmly, his voice carrying easily through the hall, "to another year at Hogwarts."
Then came the familiar warnings. Forbidden Forest forbidden. No magic in corridors. And a growing list of banned items, suggested by Filch, courtesy of the Weasley twins.
Then came the important warning. Third-floor corridor is forbidden. It seemed less like a warning and more of a challenge, specially to the daring Gryffindors
Students laughed nervously at some parts while prefects tried looking serious.
Then Dumbledore introduced the teachers.
"And I would also like to welcome Professor Quirrell, who will be taking the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts professor this year."
Polite applause spread around the hall.
I looked toward Quirrell. And immediately felt deeply uncomfortable. The purple turban on his head was absurdly eye-catching already. But it was not the turban itself.
It was what was beneath it. Or rather…Who.
Even from across the hall, I could feel it.
Something foul.
Cold.
Wrong.
The sensation crawling from Quirrell felt unclean in a way difficult to explain. Like rot hidden beneath perfume. Like something dead pretending to be alive. It was similar to the Horcruxes already destroyed, but not quite the same.
The parasite attached to him radiated wrongness.
My stomach twisted slightly.
How could nobody else feel this?
I glanced toward Dumbledore. The old man looked calm.
Too calm.
Snape too appeared completely unsurprised.
I knew both of them were skilled in Legilimency and mind magic far beyond normal wizards. If anyone could sense something unnatural, it should be them.
Yet neither reacted openly.
Either they truly did not know.
Or they were pretending very well.
Then suddenly Dumbledore clapped his hands brightly.
"Now," he said cheerfully, "let the feast begin!"
Golden plates instantly filled with food.
The hall erupted into noise and excitement again.
But while everyone else celebrated happily around me, my eyes drifted once more toward Quirrell's purple turban. And the thing hiding beneath it.
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End of Chapter 64 - The Sorting