Chapter 060

Harry was just about to reply when the hat spoke again, only it was out loud this time.

"Can I help you, Minerva?"

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Albus Dumbledore watched with great anticipation and joy as the first years all lined up to be sorted. He looked out into the sea of faces, watching the nervous children as they no doubt worried about where they would be sorted. Of course, not all were worried. The Malfoy air seemed completely unconcerned—but that was to be expected, given who his father was.

As Professor McGonagall called up the first few students, Dumbledore watched with barely contained excitement as they were Sorted into their houses. It was always a pleasure seeing young faces light up as they were welcomed into their house by the older students. It did his heart good to see such camaraderie.

However, even while his eyes took in those who sat upon the stool and had the hat call out the house they would belong to, the vast majority of his mind wondered which house Harry Potter would be sent into. Professor McGonagall had told him about her encounter with the young boy, and Dumbledore had been concerned when he heard of the child's reaction to the people in the Leaky Cauldron.

Granted, anybody would be freaked out over having so many people crowd around them like that—and he was disappointed that those people, in their haste, forgot to show consideration towards the person who had saved them from a fate worse than death—but the reaction Harry had toward those people worried him. He did not know what to make of it, and was concerned about whether or not the boy would be able to cope with the students that would no doubt be staring at the boy every chance they got.

Much as he loved children, even he had to admit that most of them lacked the restrained to control their impulses about things that made them curious.

"Potter, Harry!"

When the name of the child who had consumed the vast majority of his thoughts was called, Dumbledore focused on the young boy as he walked confidently up to the stool.

Harry was an attractive child, from what Dumbledore could see. He was fairly tall for his age, easily one of the taller children in his year, and probably around the same height as some of the second years. His hair was very much like James Potter's had been, a fact that caused the old man to smile. However, his eyes were what the Headmaster knew would capture most of the attention. Twin orbs of the most startling green, the same color as the killing curse that had robbed the boy of his parents. Those eyes glowed with repressed energy and power, and spoke of someone who was confident in themselves, but not quite to the point of arrogance. Dumbledore had never seen those eyes on someone so young.

He watched with the rest of the faculty and student body as Harry sat upon the stool and had the hat placed over his head. He waited on bated breath, curious to see which house Harry would belong to. Would he be placed in Gryffindor like his parents, where the heart of the brave dwelt? Or perhaps Hufflepuff, where those who knew the true value of loyalty and hard work found their place? Maybe he would belong to Ravenclaw; his mother had been quite smart, the most intelligent witch of her age, and he seemed the intelligent sort according to Minerva. Perhaps he would even be in Slytherin, if the ambition he saw in the boys eyes had anything to say about it.

And so he waited to see where young Harry Potter would go.

And waited.

And waited.

And when the five minute mark was hit, Dumbledore waited some more. However, as the ten minute mark hit, he began to grow concerned. That concern soon turned into alarm when Harry stayed sitting on that stool for over half an hour.

By this point in time many of the students were muttering, some in concern, some in consternation. Not that any of them could truly be blamed. Dumbledore had been in these halls for a long time, over 100-years, and in all that time he had never seen or heard of a sorting taking this long.

Curious, intrigued, and more than a little worried for the boy, Dumbledore decided to use a talent he had developed many years ago. It was called mage sight, and much like the name suggested, it allowed those who were sensitive to the intricacies of magic to 'see' magic in a more literal sense. Normally, when using this ability, Dumbledore could determine much about a persons magic; what element they were aligned to, their predisposition to the light or dark. When using mage sight, many things that would have otherwise remained hidden about a person became visible.

When Dumbledore activated this rare ability and focused it on Harry, he had to shut it off immediately afterward, lest he become blinded. He almost hissed in pain as his eyes stung from the small glimpse he had managed to catch of Harry. Staring at the boy was like staring at the sun!

Being much more careful, Dumbledore tried a second time, making sure to only look at Harry out of the corner of his eyes so as not to suffer such pain again.

What he saw was shocking—no, more than shocking. His thoughts on the boy's magic being akin to staring at the sun were wrong, oh so wrong. Looking at Harry Potter's magic was like staring into the heart of a star gone super nova. The boy's magic shone so brightly that the only thing Dumbledore could determine about the raven-haired youth was that he had more power at his disposal than most adult wizards. To Dumbledore's sight, it looked like the boy's entire body was one large ball of light so luminescent it was impossible to see the boy's magical core.

And to think he hadn't even gotten started his journey into the world of magic! Dumbledore could only imagine how powerful young Harry would be when he grew up!

By now, Dumbledore estimated that Harry Potter had been seated on that stool for nearly 45-minutes, the longest time he had ever seen anyone being sorted. Usually 45-minutes was enough to sort all of the first years!

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