People don't fit into labels, or neat little boxes. Can you ever say someone is really just smart, loyal, cunning, or brave? Never a mixture? Always a definitive line, thick and black, clean cut? No of course not. That would be ridiculous. Laughable. Absurd. Shall I continue? Have you ever met a person with only one characteristic, furthermore only one of the four previously mentioned? Neither have I.

So then, what is the point of the four Hogwarts houses? I, for one, find the whole system odd. A school divided, if you will. In the day and age we are in now, ancient customs don't really go down that well. Exactly why there aren't human sacrifices anymore. But excuse me. I'm being melodramatic.

Which is why I decided to make some much needed changes to the dear school. How could they sort if I refused? Would the place fall into utter pandemonium if they couldn't fall into their security blankets of houses? If students actually looked past petty labels and into themselves? Maybe found things they didn't know were there?

Well, dear reader, you're about to find out. I am the Hogwarts Sorting Hat, and this is my tale.

What would push me to this drastic decision? Let me tell you. It came in the form of a slight, young boy with coal-black hair and dark green eyes. Oh, I had seen those eyes before. In a small girl with gently curling red hair and high hopes about what this castle would hold for her. Perhaps we should examine why those eyes would cause me so much grief, and why they are so important to our story.

I can remember the day of her sorting, so many years ago. She was special. Unusual.

Just like all of them, she was eleven. At an age where reality is often blurred and dreams fill our heads, who could blame her for being so happy? Not a bitter old hat.

I looked into her mind, and was amazed. Adults often underestimate the minds of children. Not I. I have seen far too many by now to make that mistake. But I digress.

She possessed the qualities of each of the houses. I could see a bright mind, ready like a sponge to soak up knowledge, and eager to do it, too. She was a fiercely loyal friend, and she had ambition. Why, then did I choose Gryffindor? Really, her bravery wasn't dominant over her other traits. I was at a complete loss. This had happened before, but not quite so strongly. I knew I was on her head for much too long, so I panicked. Yes, hats can panic.

I saw her ruby hair, and just yelled out Gryffindor. That's the only reason. Because of her hair color. How could I have known what effects this would have on a stringy young boy soon to become a Slytherin? How could I know what it would drive him to do?

Now, it's haunted me. Imagine, if I had just put her in Slytherin, the boy would have had a friend with him all the time. Would he have been influenced by the darker minds had she been there? Would he have gone down a path of no return?

I'll never know the answer. But the different possibilities are endless. Had the young Slytherin not turned to darkness, could the boy before me have living parents? Or a teacher who didn't hate him? Had I caused him all the suffering he had endured as a child? Had I actually marked him for his fate, kill or be killed?

Now, I think you are beginning to see the complexities of my problem. And by putting him into Gryffindor, just like his parents, who could tell what would come? I didn't want to take that chance, not when I had erred on his part so drastically already.

When he was called forward, I sat on his head, struck by the remarkable feeling of deja-vu. Odd, how the mind can store away memories that can be triggered by the slightest things.

Reliving these memories, I knew I couldn't make the same mistake again. I could save all these young people from the curse of repeated history. I had power. Strange, a hat with power.

So while the nervous little boy sat underneath me, the eyes of the hall more intent upon him than they had been on any other child, I made my decision.