"HUFFLEPUFF!"
"Susan Bones!"
…
Bernadette watched from the staff table as the students were called up one by one, and found herself idly curious. If I were the one putting on the Sorting Hat, which House would it choose for me?
She dismissed Slytherin and Hufflepuff first — neither quite felt right. Which left Gryffindor and Ravenclaw.
Gryffindor stood for courage, honour, and a willingness to sacrifice — outwardly manifesting as boldness and a taste for risk. Bernadette felt she had all of those in reasonable measure.
Ravenclaw embodied a combination of wisdom, creativity, tenacity, and curiosity — outwardly understood as sheer cleverness. That, too, fit someone on the Seer's Pathway.
Which is the better fit?
"Hermione Granger!"
McGonagall called her name. Hermione practically ran to the stool and jammed the hat onto her head before it had quite settled.
The Sorting Hat didn't hesitate for a single second. "GRYFFINDOR!"
Then Neville. Also Gryffindor.
Then the son of Two Hundred Galleons, who landed precisely where he'd hoped: Slytherin.
As each name was called and each student walked away, Harry — left behind as the crowd thinned — grew more and more anxious. A creeping dread had settled over him: what if they declare me too stupid and simply don't take me?
He glanced instinctively toward the staff table, and his eyes met Mr. Vincent's. He flinched, dropping his gaze at once, his whole body beginning to shake without his permission.
"Harry Potter!"
Finally, his name. Harry's feet lurched beneath him, and as he stumbled toward the stool, a low wave of whispers surged through the Great Hall.
"Potter — did she say Potter?" "Is that the Harry Potter?" "The Boy Who Lived?" "Blimey, he's really got that lightning-bolt scar."
In that moment, Harry was fighting down a very private, very bitter laugh. Wait until you see the great Harry Potter get thrown out of Hogwarts — then you'll have something to be surprised about.
The next instant the battered old hat was pushed over his head and a thin voice spoke in his ear. "My, you're rather famous, aren't you? I hear people calling you a saviour."
"My mum and dad were the real ones. I've just been wearing credit that belongs to them."
"Is that so? Well then, son of saviours — which House do you want?"
Harry blinked. "I get to choose?"
"Of course. Every child I've ever Sorted has been placed according to their own truest nature — some simply don't know their own minds yet, which is where I come in. But you're different. You clearly have thoughts of your own." The Sorting Hat seemed almost amused. "So I'll ask again: where do you want to go?"
"I…"
The words rose and then stalled. Harry genuinely didn't know.
The first thing he was certain of: not Gryffindor.
Because Mr. Vincent had been in Slytherin — and Neville had said Gryffindor and Slytherin were sworn enemies. Which meant, by that logic, Slytherin was worth considering. Harry didn't believe for a moment that everyone who came out of Mr. Vincent's House was rotten to the core.
Ravenclaw also had a certain appeal. Mr. Vincent was clearly someone who loved learning, and the hat had just described Ravenclaw as the House of scholarship and wisdom.
"Good heavens, you just called me a dirty old hat."
Harry startled. "You — you can read my thoughts?"
"How else do you think I do this?" the hat said with faint indignation. "Still — Ravenclaw, I wouldn't bother. Setting aside for a moment whether you actually have the aptitude for it."
"You quite clearly do not love knowledge for its own sake. You study to please others. Now — forcing yourself to do things you dislike, even despise, in pursuit of a goal… if that isn't a very Slytherin approach, I don't know what is. And conveniently, the person you're so desperate to impress also came from there."
Something clicked. "Alright then. Slytherin."
"Excellent. Splendid."
The Sorting Hat threw open its brim in what seemed to be a broad, delighted grin. "Then Harry Potter goes to… SLY… GRYFFINDOR!!!"
Harry: "???"
No.
We agreed on Slytherin. How did this become Gryffindor?
"WAHHHH!"
The Gryffindor table erupted: "WE'VE GOT POTTER! WE'VE GOT POTTER!"
Harry stood there, baffled. "But why—"
"Don't ask me. Ask that wretched Albus — the man has absolutely no shame in publicly—"
McGonagall had already whisked the hat off his head. She gave him a light pat on the shoulder. "Off you go to your friends, Harry."
"Right. Yes."
He drifted toward the Gryffindor table in a complete fog, barely aware of walking until the Weasley twins were flinging their arms around him and depositing him into a seat. By then his head was beginning to clear.
He looked up at the staff table again, and found the familiar smile waiting for him.
Huh.
Harry let out a long, slow breath. Mr. Vincent clearly didn't care which House he ended up in. Of course not — he was a professor. He wouldn't fuss over these things the way students did.
While Harry was still gathering his thoughts, the Sorting Hat completed the last placement of the evening. Every House was buzzing with the energy of fresh arrivals.
Dumbledore rose to his feet, spreading his arms wide with a beaming smile. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our feast, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
The moment he sat down, the empty plates filled — roast meats, stews, breads, puddings, dishes from a dozen different countries. Whatever one's homeland or tastes, there was something to satisfy — even those from other worlds entirely.
Bernadette, for one, found the spread entirely to her liking.
"Vincent."
Dumbledore leaned forward slightly to look past the others. "I imagine you won't need me to introduce anyone — they were all your professors once."
Bernadette touched a napkin to her lips. "Quite right. I greeted everyone just now. Particularly…" She let the pause land deliberately. "Professor Snape."
Snape did not look up. He might as well have been deaf.
"How wonderful."
Dumbledore seemed entirely pleased with himself. Opening feasts were reliably among his favourite days of the year.
"Oh — one more introduction. This is Quirinus Quirrell, your new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor. He was a few years above you at Ravenclaw, wasn't he — do you remember each other?"
Quirrell raised his goblet toward Bernadette with a gentle, almost diffident air. "I've heard of Professor Vincent, and I know something of what happened. All I can say is — you showed real courage. A toast to you, Professor."
What happened?
Bernadette was at a loss, but raised her goblet all the same. "Thank you."
Quirrell asked, "Professor Vincent — I understand you spent many years in the Muggle world. I wonder: how do you see the relationship between wizards and Muggles?"
To be continued…
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