Chapter 4 - The Sorting Hat's Song

Chapter 4: The Sorting Hat's Song

The spirit sat in the gigantic room, which had gone eerily silent, staring along with all the others at the old hat sitting at the front. Then, without warning, the seam along the brim of the hat simply opened up and it began to sing:

So long ago that no one knew

What real knowledge could provide,

There lived four daring sorcerers

Who sought to change the tide.

At the time, these friends all were

Brought together by their dream

To make the greatest magic school

This world had ever seen.

But once they'd started Hogwarts School

An argument soon arose,

Which students should they let inside

And whose entries to oppose.

Said Gryffindor, "We only want

The noble and the brave,"

Said Hufflepuff, "I hope it is

The loyal ones we save."

Said Ravenclaw, "Surely only

The smart will pass the test,"

Said Slytherin, "The cunning ones

Will always be the best."

So at last, the four decided

That it might be most prudent

To sort them among four houses

Determined by the student

So Griffindor was set to teach

The ones with courageous hearts,

While Ravenclaw took only those

Who had an excess of smarts.

Slytherin refused anyone

Without purity and aim,

Hufflepuff took the unbiased

And treated them all the same.

After this, there was little strife

Bringing many quiet years

Until the houses fought again

Bringing naught but pain and tears.

And to this day, the houses still

Aren't united as before.

But I still dream and hope and pray

We won't crumble at our core.

If our school is to continue,

If Hogwarts is still to stand,

We must know to pull together

Or else prove we're built on sand.

So I hereby beg you now

To build friendships strong and true

Before the darkness sets in,

And while we're still able to.

But now I must separate you

So I'll show you where you go

But still, do not be divided,

Only outside is our foe .

The hat fell silent, appearing lifeless once more and the whole room burst into applause.

The spirit's forehead creased in concentration as he struggled to retain everything he'd heard. Granted, he'd felt a little insulted by the notion of a singing hat to begin with, but he'd quickly become raptly interested after he'd started to listen to what it was saying. All that about the strife and argument between the 'Houses'… Then there was the bit about the darkness setting in. Perhaps they already knew he was coming.

The stern-looking woman turned from watching the hat to face the children. "When I call your name, come up and place the hat on your head and sit on this stool. Then proceed to the table of the house into which you are sorted."

The children glanced at one another, some looking excited while others looked apprehensive.

"Abrash, Derald," the woman called.

A small boy with light brown hair stumbled up to the stool and sat down, looking terrified. He stared at the old hat for a moment before lowering it tentatively onto his head until it sunk so low that the boy's eyes were hidden from sight.

Nothing happened for a moment, then the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

One of the tables erupted into frenzied cheers and applause as the boy, red in the face, went to the table and sat down.

"Astrava, Enoch."

A black-haired boy then approached the stool. Unlike the first boy, he walked with a slight strut in his step, glaring at the other first years so they'd get out of the way. Before he'd had time to put the hat on completely, it screamed "SLYTHERIN!" and the boy swaggered off to the cheering table which happened to be one of the ones right next to the one the spirit was sitting at.

By this time, the spirit was starting to understand what was happening. The hat was deciding where the students went based on their personalities. He himself would probably have to be 'sorted' as well if he was to learn at this school. Now, which house would the hat place him in, he wondered.

"Falken, Raeona," the woman called and a girl with long black hair and a thoroughly annoyed expression walked up.

Surely he would not be put in the loyal house, but he probably wouldn't be put in the one that wanted purity either. The courageous house didn't seem his type either, he always associated courage with stupidity. Like the time his host had almost sacrificed his soul to thwart the spirit in his shadow game against the pharaoh. Most likely he'd be put in the fourth House, although the spirit couldn't quite remember the dominant trait for that one.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The spirit was startled from his thoughts as the table he was at exploded into applause as the dark haired girl slouched over to their table, still looking irritated.

The spirit decided not to worry about it for the moment and instead turned his full attention back to the children being sorted.

"Gouttsoul, Vincent."

"SLYTHERIN!"

After this one, the spirit happened to see the giant from the platform come in. He was apparently trying to be inconspicuous as he approached the staff table, but he was so large that he wasn't all that successful.

The spirit raised his eyebrows slightly before turning his attention back to the sorting.

Next were Landvatter, Karyn who was put in Gryffindor, Nanagra, Alan who was put in Ravenclaw, and Olseth, Armando who was also put in Slytherin.

The spirit's eye wandered unwillingly back up to the staff table and he looked at the long-bearded man with the half-moon spectacles again. He would be the one the spirit would have to convince to let him learn here. But how hard to convince would this man prove? Perhaps he would be the understanding type who tried to give everyone a chance as his kindly appearance suggested, but the spirit knew better than anyone how deceiving looks could be.

"Sparr, Mercedes."

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Spight, Myron."

"SLYTHERIN!"

The spirit frowned slightly, eying the slowly shortening line of first years. The whole sorting process had been rather interesting at the start, but now the spirit was eager to see the end of it and find out what happened next. So the spirit was not the least bit sorry when the final person (Zander, Sue, who was placed into Hufflepuff) was sorted and the stern woman took the hat and the stool away.

Then, without warning, the entire room went silent, and everyone had turned to face the front. The spirit turned his head and saw that the old man with the half-moon spectacles had stood up.

"I welcome you all to another fresh year at Hogwarts," he said. "Naturally, I have a great deal to say, but now it isn't the time to say it. Tuck in!"

The spirit's eye dropped down automatically to the gold plates in front of him, and watched as food and drink appeared there. He raised an eyebrow, then leaned forward to study the mysterious substances. He glanced about him, but as all he saw was other people piling food onto their plates, he shrugged slightly and took some for himself.

He was just eying a dish of rare meat when the great doors opened again.

A teenager of about fifteen or sixteen marched into the room. He had unruly, jet black hair and wore small, circular glasses. He would have been entirely unremarkable if not for an odd, zigzaging scar on his forehead mostly obscured by his hair, and for the blood on his face.

The spirit wasn't the only one watching. Heads turned as the boy strode down the aisle between the tables and a few stood up, but he stared straight ahead, face carved in stone.

He came to a stop at a spot at the next table over, and took up a seat with a group of other students.

A second figure had entered the hall not far behind, and the spirit's eye flickered to study him next. This one was older, probably a teacher. Like everyone else, he was dressed in a set of long, flowing black robes, but his skin was a sallow yellow, and he had a long nose that turned down in a sharp hook. His black eyes swept the room once, before he continued on to the table at the front of the room, where the other adults, presumably the staff, were seated.

The spirit's gaze lingered a moment longer on the man. There was something sinister about him. He emanated a sense of darkness, which felt strangely familiar.

The spirit turned back to the table, and found that the dishes had been replaced with an array of sumptuous desserts. The spirit dipped a spoon into a nearby pudding, and tasted it. He reached out to take some more

"Wonder what Potter is up to this time."

The spirit glanced sideways to see one of the boys at the table nearby turning and craning his neck in the direction of the boy who had entered the hall a moment before.

"Sort of looked like he got into a fight," joined another. "Maybe he had a run-in with a Death Eater. After everything that happened last year, I wouldn't doubt it."

One of the girls sitting across the table giggled. "He does have a way of attracting trouble. I love that in a guy."

The spirit listened to this conversation with interest. Evidently the teen-Potter, was his name-was of some repute in this school. If the spirit was to stay here, he would have to keep an eye on the human.

When the spirit was finished eating, his eyes wandered automatically back to the front of the room, and the old man with the long beard and quaint, half-moon spectacles rose to his feet. As before, quiet was almost immediate. The man had the face of a kindly, unassuming grandfather, yet he clearly commanded a respect with this rabble. Impressive.

"The very best evening to you," the man greeted his students, and his sleeves fell back briefly as he spread his arms wide.

The spirit noticed then that one of the old man's hands was twisted and disfigured, blackened as though in the late stages of decomposition.

That hand has come in contact with some dark magic, the spirit mused. He wondered what the story was behind that.

Several other people noticed the hand too, and there were murmurs of shock followed by speculation. Clearly the dead hand was not a signature feature of this odd old man, but something new. His brush with the darkness was a recent one, then. This thought made the spirit smile.

"Nothing to worry about," the old man said, smiling, letting his sleeve fall back into place, concealing it again from view. "Now… to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back!"

He continued on with several announcements and reminders of key rules and regulations. The spirit was beginning to grow bored when the man made an announcement relating to a new addition to the staff, which generated quite a stir amidst the crowd. As Professor Slughorn, who was apparently to be the new Potions master, stood, a storm of whispers broke out.

"Potions?"

" Potions? "

"Professor Snape, meanwhile," the man continued, raising his voice, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Dark Arts, thought the spirit. Now, that should be interesting.

The spirit's single eye swept the staff table, seeking out this Professor Snape, but he paused as his gaze came to rest on the sallow-faced man from before. The man raised a hand in acknowledgment of cheers from one of the tables.

The spirit's lip curled. Well. The man certainly looked the part. He would also bear watching.

After waiting a few seconds for the buzz of excited conversation to die down, the old man's face took on a more serious expression, and he continued.

"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining strength."

The spirit gazed up at the old man, his single eye unblinking. So that was the individual he had been hearing about all this time, the one spoken of in the wizard newspapers. You-Know-Who, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. The one who had struck such fear into these mortals that they feared even to speak his name aloud. These magical beings were not united, but divided into factions. The man that stood before him with his innocuous-looking half-moon glasses and purple robes was clearly an important figure in one faction, and this Lord Voldemort reigned over the other. He would have to learn more about the political climate of this world, and once he did, perhaps he could use it to his advantage.

The man urged the students to follow new security regulations in light of the current danger, and to report suspicious activity. "I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety," he completed solemnly.

However, a moment later he was smiling again. "But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well-rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"

As the room was filled with the noise of scraping benches and the buzz of conversation, instead of moving with the crowd, the spirit began to weave his way back through it in the general direction of the staff table. He doubted he could simply blend in with the crowd and go unnoticed once classes began. There would be role-call lists and supplies he was supposed to have, but didn't. The man had told his students to be on the lookout for anything suspicious, so he wouldn't have a prayer learning anything here without permission. This would be the tricky part.

At last the crowd began to thin, and the spirit reached an empty spot of floor directly in front of the staff table. Most of the staff had already cleared out, but a few remained, and now the spirit was fully visible to them, no longer camouflaged by the the throngs of students. He looked directly at the old man, and did not allow his gaze to flicker away, not allowing himself to look in anyway lost or out of place, or attempting to avoid notice. He approached the staff table directly.

"I'm fairly certain," said the old man with a slight smile, "that I know the faces and names of all our students. Even our most recent additions this year. But I don't think I know you."

The spirit opened his mouth to answer, but felt a set of cold, iron fingers seize him by the wrist and wrench his arm back.

"I don't recognize this one either, Headmaster," said a cold, sardonic voice. "Could it be that a rat has managed to slip past all our defenses? And after all the trouble we went to to upgrade security. I'll have to have a word with Filch about this."

The spirit turned, and found the newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher standing there, long, bony fingers still clamped around his arm. His eyes were black as pitch, though at the moment they glittered with malevolence.

"Now now, Professor Snape," said the Headmaster. "Let's at least hear what the young man has to say before we go throwing him in one of Filch's dungeons."

The Dark Arts teacher's eyes did not move. "On the contrary, Headmaster," he said, lip curled. "Anyone who has made his way inside these walls who is not authorized to be here is a danger. A servant of the Dark Lord himself, most likely."

The spirit knew he had to get control of this situation. A Shadow Game was the only solution. He would play a game with them, the conditions being that if he won, they had to admit him.

However, the spirit held back. He knew instinctively he could not let them see his dark magic. He needed them to cooperate willingly, without suspecting the true power he possessed. Subtlety and guile would serve him better here than brute strength.

"I'm a wizard," he said suddenly, almost blurting it out. His face had taken on the softness of his host, the picture of helplessness and innocence. "And you-you're a wizard too, aren't you. You're like me. With powers."

The dark man's expression was hard to read. However, the spirit thought he detected just the barest flicker of surprise in his cold black eyes.

The spirit began to laugh. Not a sinister sound, but happy, relieved. "All this time, I thought I was alone. I thought I was-that I was some kind of freak of nature. But this is where people like me are supposed to be, isn't it? This is where we come to learn how to control it."

The Dark Arts teacher eyed him with open suspicion. "So that's your story, is it? And we're supposed to just believe that. That you just stumbled upon our school by a happy accident."

The spirit glanced down. "I… I had a distant relative who came here once. Years ago. I didn't know at the time this was where he was going, I just heard he was going to a boarding school. But I found papers amidst his things-instructions how to get here. I… I wanted to believe that there were other people with powers like mine, that there was somewhere I could go where I could be considered normal. So I followed the instructions. I'm sorry I slipped past your security, but I was afraid you would throw me out."

The man's lip was curled in a sneer. "And I supposed you'd never heard of the Dark Lord before today. Or wizards, or Hogwarts."

The spirit looked the man straight in the eye. "No. I never did."

The man gazed back for a long moment, studying the spirit's expression. His own thoughts were, as before, unfathomable.

"Let him go, Professor Snape," said the old man, sighing and waving a hand.

The man named Snape glared at him a moment longer, then reluctantly uncurled his long, spidery fingers from the spirit's wrist and drew back a few paces, though stayed within striking distance in case the spirit tried anything.

"Well," said the Headmaster, looking kindly on the spirit. "You've certainly come a long way. And this school never turns away any would-be learners. So I say-"

Professor Snape, who for all his dark, sinister demeanor, seemed to have an overall respectful manner toward the man with the spectacles, uncharacteristically cut in sharply. "Headmaster. Might I have a word?"

The old man shook his head, smiling slightly. "Very well, Professor Snape." The two retreated back until they were out of hearing range.

The spirit noticed the stern woman who had earlier brought in the singing hat standing at a distance, watching what was going on with a tight-lipped frown that on her sharp face might have been concern. The old man gestured to her, and she joined the little conference.

The spirit gazed at them, and wished he could employ the powers of the Millennium Eye to read their thoughts. However, he was still not particularly skilled at using the Eye, and he could not be sure using its magic in front of these beings would go unnoticed. However, his control of the Millennium Ring was another matter. He was willing to take the risk with that.

The spirit closed his eyes, and felt the power of the ring resonate in his chest. He focused his senses, and the voices of the three teachers slowly grew audible in his ears.

"… about the distant relative was utter hogwash," said the Dark Arts teacher.

"Perhaps," said the Headmaster. "But what he said about not knowing the Dark Lord or about Hogwarts before today was true."

Professor Snape hesitated, and did not contradict this. "That proves nothing. He is a wizard as he says, clearly, but the quill which marks when a magical child is born has never been wrong before. More likely than not he is an enemy. Is it wise to allow such an unknown factor into this school, particularly at such a… delicate time as this?"

"As much as I hate to admit it, I must agree with Professor Snape," said the woman crisply.

"On the contrary," said the Headmaster genially. "I wonder how wise it would be, at this particular time, to cast an unknown quantity out of our walls where we are unable to keep an eye on it."

This comment was met with a moment of silence. At last, Professor Snape said slowly, "Are you saying, Headmaster…"

"… that we should allow him to attend school here?" the woman finished incredulously. "Just like that?"

"There is no time like the present," said the old man cheerfully. "If this is somehow a trick by Lord Voldemort, I'd like to find out what it is. And I so hate the thought of turning out a student who is so eager to learn."

Again, the other two teachers were both quiet. The three turned back to face the spirit, the Dark Arts teacher's thin lips turned down in an obvious scowl, the woman's lips pursed. The Headmaster was smiling as always, and he beckoned to the spirit.

"We have decided," he said. "You may attend our school if that is your wish. However, I must warn you, that you have come to our magical world during a time of great peril. There is an enemy on the prowl outside these walls, and though we are doing our best to combat him, he is more dangerous than you can imagine."

The spirit looked back at the headmaster solemnly. "I understand. But I still want to learn here. I can't bear to be a part of a world I don't belong anymore."

The headmaster nodded. He turned to the woman and said, "Then Professor McGonagall, please retrieve the sorting hat." He turned back to the spirit. "First thing's first. If you are to attend this school, we must find out what house you are in."

The spirit felt his mouth turn up into a smile, a smile full of joy and gratitude. "Thank you, Headmaster. Thank you so much. You have no idea what this means to me."

"I think I have an inkling," said the old man, peering down at the spirit over his half-moon spectacles, an odd twinkle in his eye. And for the first time, the spirit felt a flicker of uncertainty. Both the Dark Arts teacher and the female professor were openly suspicious and unfriendly. But for some reason, looking into the deep blue eyes of this genial old man, the spirit felt suddenly that he was the one he would have to watch out for. The one that was truly dangerous.

The spirit's single eye flickered away, and he watched as the woman swept from the room.

" This will be the most blood-soaked tournament in the last 1,000 years…