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.

The hall watched me with bated breath. They all wanted Potter, like he was some prize. It sickened me. They just wanted the boy-who-lived to be in their house. They didn't know anything about the boy, but he could be used as leverage. See, our house really is the best, we got Potter. No, I wasn't going to subject the boy to that. My decision was made.

"There will be no more houses," I boomed, voice magically amplified. I'm sure those students thought I was joking. They laughed, smiled with friends. But not the teachers. Their laughs were uneasy, their eyes worried and confused. One particular professor, I'm sure, knew what I was getting at before the others did. I can safely assume he bitterly detested the sorting system.

When I remained silent, then their smiles faded. They looked around at each other, furrows forming between their brows. By now the staff was consulting in low voices, huddled around the table. What was going on? What are we to do?

As they were whispering, the truth of my words began to settle, like sand that has been stirred up in the bottom of the ocean and falls back, but now each grain of sand is in a different place than it was before. First, they all gasped as their little house badges seemingly vanished into thin air.

My magic is extremely powerful. Whatever I say concerning houses goes. That's how I was made. But I doubt Godric ever thought it would be used this way when he created me. But I think I can take some liberties, don't you? It's been far too long that I've been a good little hat and done what I'm told.

Then, the four house tables disappeared. That's right. Now, the poor children had reached their breaking points. The swell of agitated voices crashed around me. The first years looked at each other, wide eyed. And Potter. He was afraid, I could tell. But not of what all these other children feared.

So what I did was wrong. Yes, hats do have consciences. But I was curious. I peered into the young Potter's mind, curious as to what was bothering him.

I delved into his mind, ignoring the rush of feelings and thoughts, searching for just the right emotion. Ah, there it was. Fear. He was afraid of being the one who had caused this whole thing? Afraid of being…. Different? He just wanted to fit in?

Strange, I would have thought him angry about not getting put into Gryffindor. But I wasn't left much time to mull over these thoughts, as I was rather rudely lifted off Potter's head and brought over to the staff table.

"What is going on, hat?" hissed McGonagall. "What do you mean by this? Surely you can't do this?" Came another voice, Sprout, I believe. But I remained silent. Let them work it out for themselves. I wasn't sorting, and I wasn't talking.

Then Snape spoke up. "I believe it does have the power to do this. I think we're just going to have to deal with it," he said, voice slow and calculating. The staff's eyes were upon him. "Surely not?" Came someone's reply. "Surely," he answered, eyes swinging toward the chaos which had erupted. "I suggest you speak to the children, Headmaster."

Dumbledore nodded, and began to speak, voice loud and firm. "Children, calm down. I'm not sure what's going on. For now, please remain quiet as the staff and I work out what to do."

What to do? Yes, that seemed to be the question. They couldn't seem to agree, so they decided on having everyone sleep in the great hall while the teachers went into their discussion mode, leaving the prefects in charge.

They left me there, in the Great Hall. Why? I suppose they were just so wrapped up in the circumstances. But you would think they would. Maybe they realized it was hopeless trying to get any information out of me.

So I sat upon the staff table, receiving many glances and points from the students. Those plush purple sleeping bags, trademark of Albus Dumbledore, had appeared. Friends grabbed them and settled into groups to chat. I kept a special watch on Potter, who looked a bit lost. His large eyes darted around the scene, and he finally just went by a sleeping bag in the corner, leaning his back against the wall.

The boy needed someone to talk to. So I looked around. All the first years seemed terrified. You'd think Albus would do something to make them more comfortable? But no.

Then I spotted him. He was a small boy, almost as small as Harry. He had white blonde hair that was now disheveled from its previous smoothness, falling into his eyes. His previous 'friends' seemed to have left him now that they had found someone else. I wondered about him. He had been difficult to sort as well. But he had asked for Slytherin, so why not? But it seemed to me as if he wanted it for someone else, not for himself. But now, that was gone. The few first years that had been sorted weren't any longer.

The small blonde noticed Harry sitting in the corner, and he seemed to struggle with himself before reaching a decision. He went over and sat by him. I wondered what would happen between the two. Could it have happened it I'd sorted?

I continued to watch as the young blonde went and sat by Potter. He dragged a nearby sleeping bag closer to him, and settled himself down. I was intent upon these two, and as the blonde began speaking I carefully read his lips. Yes, hats can read lips.

"I'm Draco," he began, looking at Harry curiously. "Harry," said Potter nervously. "What just happened?" asked Draco, though it seemed as if half to himself. "I-I don't know. The hat didn't say anything to me," said Harry, still nervous. Draco focused on Harry now, looking at him again. "I just want to thank you," Draco said with a small smile. "Thank me? For what?" asked Harry, completely confused. So far he had been getting dirty looks, whispers, and pointed fingers coming his way.

"Well, I don't know what you did, but you stopped the sorting," aid Draco, continuing to smile. "I didn't do anything," Harry insisted quietly. Draco shrugged, but continued to look happy. The only happy face I had seen so far.

"Why are you happy about the sorting being stopped?" asked Harry, who I could tell was interested. Draco paused a moment before answering. "You don't really know much about sorting, do you? I've heard you were raised by muggles," Draco began. Harry nodded, confirming both Draco's question and statement. "Then I guess it'll be kind of hard for you to understand. But I'll try to explain anyway."

I wondered what the boy was talking about. I'd never yet met a child who didn't like sorting. I'd met those who wanted to be in certain houses, or wanted their friends to be with them, but I'd never actually heard a student complain. This boy was odd, and I wondered why I hadn't realized this as I sat upon his head.

"All my family's been in Slytherin. There's been a lot of pressure on me all summer. But how am I supposed to control what house I get sorted into? Anyways, I didn't really know if I wanted to be in Slytherin. But if I didn't, father said I'd disgrace the family," Draco said, tone quieter now.

"I'm sorry," said Harry, and I could tell he really meant it. Apparently, so could Draco. "Thanks. But now I don't have to worry about it." Harry just nodded. "Something wrong?" Draco asked, looking concerned. Harry didn't say anything for a few minutes, but then spoke up. "What if everyone hates me because of this?" he said in a small voice. "How could anyone hate you? You're Harry Potter!" Draco said, trying to be comforting.

This was clearly the wrong thing to say, for Harry just continued to look miserable. "You should just relax. The teachers will figure out something to help make things better. I'm sure people will get over this. Eventually," said Draco, frowning a bit at how scared Harry looked.

"But what if they don't? And why did this have to happen to me? Is there something wrong with me?" Harry asked, voice becoming quieter and quieter as he spoke. "Of course not!" exclaimed Draco. "Don't be ridiculous. Everything will be fine. By the way, what's your favorite Quidditch team?" Draco asked, trying to lighten things up with happier subjects. "What's Quidditch?" asked Harry. "What's Quidditch? The best sport in the world!" said Draco, launching into an explanation of the game, and his experiences flying. "You'll see, it'll be great once we start flying." Harry was beginning to look happier, and I could see that the boys got along well.

This helped boost my confidence about this whole thing. Frankly, I was having my doubts about doing something so drastic. But clearly, these two were proof. What if they had been in different houses?

Just as I was indulging myself in thoughts about how I had made the right choice, Severus Snape walked into the hall. Silence fell around his intimidating presence, and no student dared to ask him a question. "Harry Potter," he said, voice soft yet commanding.

I watched as the young boy stood up, trembling slightly, and made his way over to the tall man. I also noted the look on Snape's face. Wonder.

As the pair made their way closer to the doors, I watched as Snape paused. He then turned away from Potter and briskly strode over towards me, grabbing me off the table. As he carried me back to Potter without a word, I wondered why he had done it. What use could I possibly be? But really, I was quite pleased I would be able to witness whatever they decided to talk to Potter about. Better than staying here with all these unhappy children.

Snape led Potter and me into a room off of the Great Hall. The teachers were all sitting around it silently. I suppose they agreed to stop talking once Potter came in, fake smiles plastered on their faces. Trying to hide their tension and fear behind smiles. I doubt they fooled him. As I've said before, he's a bright child.

Snape gestured towards a seat, and Harry sat, nervously perched on the edge of the chair, hands fidgeting.

"Hello there, Harry," said McGonagall, her voice falsely sweet. As if nothing had just happened. I knew Harry wasn't buying it.

His bright green eyes darkened, a furrow formed between his eyes, and his voice was full of mistrust as he answered back, "Hello."

"We were just wondering if you could tell us anything the hat said to you?" she asked. Harry winced, barely noticeable. That was odd. None of the teachers noticed except Snape, who watched the child with his dark eyes.

"It didn't say anything to me that," Harry answered, voice quiet but firm.

McGonagall's smile faltered. "Are you quite sure? You're not in trouble you know. Even if it told you not to say anything, you must tell us."

Harry frowned before he spoke. "I am sure. It didn't say anything. Why would it tell me not to, even if it did? I think its message is clear enough," he answered.

I had to give the boy credit. He didn't crack under pressure, and he stood his ground. Traits of both Gryffindor and Slytherin.

The teachers weren't even pretending to be happy anymore. I could tell Potter noticed their attitude change once they realized he didn't have any information they wanted.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," said one of the teachers, nodding towards Snape, who swiftly stood up and walked toward Harry.

"Come," he said, voice impassive like his face, while Harry slowly stood and left the room.

I wonder if Snape had said anything to him. I doubted it though, knowing the Potions Master rarely revealed what he was thinking right away. I also wondered what Potter told his new friend about his encounter with the teachers. Although I was stuck in a room with irritated professors, I can imagine what he told him. Yes, hats have imaginations.

A few minutes later, Snape returned. The teachers were at a loss. They tried questioning me, to no avail. Let them figure this out on their own. They were supposed to be highly skilled, weren't they? They could come up with a solution by themselves, couldn't they?

After about another hour of pointless conversation, the teachers got up tiredly and left, one by one. Finally, the only one left in the room was Snape, who walked over to me.

"Finally decided to do something?" he said snidely in my ear before picking me up and folding me, which hurt quite a lot, I might add.

Snape made his way to his private chambers in the dungeons, me along for the ride. There were a few things I was certain of. I had shaken Hogwarts, and this man might be a key to stabilizing it once more.

I also needed to talk to Harry Potter.

I spent the rest of the night in Snape’s office, until the clear morning rays of sun cut through my suspended rest like a knife. Hats can’t exactly sleep, but my mind calms down enough for me to rest. I suppose it would be like when humans are sleeping, and they have those moments when they are half awake, half asleep. Of course, that’s only an educated guess. Hats cannot sleep. Sometimes, I wonder what it would be like to sleep, to dream. Yes, hats can be wistful.

Snape was nowhere to be found, and, basing my decision off of the fresh looking sunlight, I assumed he was at breakfast.

Resting upon the shelf as I was, I took the opportunity to survey my surroundings. Snape’s office was large, a somber looking wooden desk in one corner, large windows upon one wall, bookshelves upon the others, and some chairs before a fireplace. Snape must have forgotten to close the heavy black curtains last night with all the turmoil going on. I thought of him as the kind of person who would like his office dark. But then again, what did I know about him? Maybe he loved sunlight.

I was pulled out of my musing by a loud creaking noise. The dark wooden door had swung open, Snape striding in, walking so swiftly his billowing black robes seemed to be a blur. I was surprised that he came right towards me. What could he possibly want?

“The rest of the staff deems it necessary to consult with you again,” said Snape, voice low and quick. “They think they can get you to explain. But it won’t work, will it?” asked Snape in that same silky tone. I didn’t reply, so he simply grabbed me off the shelf and set off again with his long strides toward the Great Hall.

We entered the Great Hall, where I could see the purple sleeping bags of the night before had been cleared away. The Hall looked empty without the four house tables, and the distressed children milling around didn’t help. They stared at us as we passed, a few calling out to Snape, who ignored them as he made his way to the small room behind the staff table.

It discouraged me to see the teachers all sitting around the table, same hopeless and confused expressions on their faces as the night before. Weren’t they supposed to be the most magically trained and intelligent witches and wizards of the day? Then why was this causing them such distress?

Snape set me down on the center of the table, and the professors futilely questioned me again. It wasn’t long before Snape cut in.

“As I have previously mentioned, the hat isn’t going to talk,” he said, black eyes swiftly glancing at the assembled staff. “Seeing as this is a school, it would be wise if we started teaching,” he said, pausing as his words sank in.

“But-how? We have no idea what to do!” exclaimed Sprout, her gray hair flying in all directions and a frazzled look upon her normally good natured face.

“I would suggest setting up temporary dormitories for the students. Have them housed alphabetically, with a professor in charge of each section. At least until something else is done,” said Snape, tone icy.

Dumbledore nodded and spoke, “Yes, that seems to be a good idea. I’ll just go do the spells to create the dormitories, shall I? Severus, why don’t you go explain to the students.”

Finishing his cheerful speech, Dumbledore strode out of the room, leaving Snape fuming. He did not want to speak to the brats, didn’t wish to console them. But what could he do, seeing as the Headmaster had ordered him too?

` I saw the anger play out on Snape’s face before he carefully controlled it, still seeming impatient as he stalked out of the room.

Snape’s magically magnified voice drifted back towards me as he explained what was going to happen to the students. Immediately afterwards, I could hear the children’s whines and cries of outrage, their complaints of being separated from their friends.

Seeing as I am such an expert on children, I have noticed that they can make a big deal out of the smallest things, like this. Was it really true that they would never see their friends again? What about classes, meals, and free time?

Snape, however, not being a man known for his patience, spoke in a dangerously quiet voice that silenced the children, though I could still sense the feelings of anger and disappointment.

Next, I heard the ever cheerful voice of Albus Dumbledore speaking the children.

“As Professor Snape has already explained to you, we are drawing up a temporary alphabetical dormitory system. Children with last names A-G will be in dormitories together, with Professor Flitwick as their moderator. Last names H-L will be together, with Professor Sprout. M-R shall be sharing rooms, and have Professor Snape as their leader. And lastly S-Z will be together with Professor McGonagall. Please go toward your assigned teacher, who will you show you the way to your new rooms.”

Dumbledore stepped off the teacher’s platform and back into the room, explaining to the professors about their new charges and how the children’s dormitories would be located close to their own.

“And Severus, I think it would be wise if you took the Sorting Hat with you. You seem to understand it the best.”

As Dumbledore left, I could see Snape looked surprised at this suggestion, but nonetheless grabbed me again and headed out into the confusion that was the Great Hall.

Snape walked to an empty corner, simply waiting for the students to come and find him. He waved his wand and a list of the students he would be in charge of appeared before him. His black eyes scanned the page, and I could see them grow darker when he reached a certain spot.

Soon, a small assembly of children had gathered around Snape. The tiny first years looked quite frightened of him, and who could blame them? Snape was the least friendly teacher they could have been assigned too.

I saw Snape look up, and I guessed he had somehow sensed that all the students were here. That was when I noticed his gaze linger on one particular child in the group.

Harry Potter stood at the back, his large green eyes watching Snape warily. He seemed even tinier than the other first years, who were all dwarfed by some of the older students.

Potter looked even more afraid than the other students. Draco Malfoy was at his side, looking more at ease.

Snape continued to watch him, a furrow forming between his brow. I wondered what he thought of Potter.

Snape tore his gaze away from the boy, looking at the students around him, and began walking off without a word to them as they trailed along behind him.

I watched the children hurrying along in Snape’s wake, struggling to keep up with the long strides of the tall potions master. Snape barely spared them a glance, simply leading them through the corridors and down into the labyrinth known as the dungeons.

I saw Potter shiver as the colder air of the dungeons hit him, watched his small body tremble ever so slightly. I half expected him to complain, for even I had to admit it was chilly for September. But nothing. 

The first thing I observed was that Dumbledore had set up the dormitories near Snape’s office, so I assumed he had done so for the other teachers as well. Snape would certainly be able to keep a close watch on the children.

Snape glanced at the parchment he had summoned before, then back up at the new portrait that had appeared before him on the stone wall. It was a large portrait with a dark wooden frame, showing a sleek black panther pacing up and down, the background a brilliant scene of jungle foliage. I took in the details of the portrait, the exotic flowers, the slithering of snakes along the ground. I smiled to myself at that. Yes, hats can smile. You just can’t see it.

It was typical Dumbledore to leave the snakes there. Absolutely Slytherin of him. Dumbledore was another difficult child to sort. I can remember his sorting clearly and the tall, thin, bright eyed youth that Dumbledore had been. That’s the way I see him in my mind. Some people find it hard to picture Dumbledore without his silver hair and beard. But for me, true wisdom isn’t defined by age. But I guess I’m biased.

I heard the gasps of delight from the children when the panther opened her mouth to start speaking, her voice a low purr.

“Password?” she enquired, turning her dark eyed stare onto Snape, her eyes glistening like onyx.

“Accedo,” said Snape, watching the swishing tail of the panther with interest.

Just as he said the password, a small black panther came up to the feline, and I realized it must be her baby. She licked the small head, then swung open to reveal the new common room.

Gracefully climbing through the portrait whole, the children scrambling in after him, Snape quickly examined the new common room. It wasn’t much different from the other common rooms, I supposed. A large fireplace was cackling, armchairs were arranged around it, and bookshelves were lining the walls. Much like Snape’s office. Perhaps Dumbledore had taken that into account.

“Settle down,” said Snape, his voice cutting through the noise that had begun to form. Silence immediately followed his words.

“Boys are to the left, girls to the right. I trust you are all competent enough to figure the rest out from there,” he said, daring anyone to ask him for help.

Personally, I felt he was being a bit unreasonable. But people never seem to take my feelings into account.

Snape turned to leave, still clutching me close to his chest. That was when the voice interrupted him.

“Sir?” the voice was quiet, but confident. Snape slowly turned around to face the small first year who had befriended Potter. Draco Malfoy.

“Yes?” asked Snape, eyebrows raised.

“It’s just that Harry was the one who made the sorting stop. Maybe you should leave the hat here. What if it will say something to him?” said Draco, and I was surprised at how at ease he sounded.

Quite the opposite of how Harry felt, for he looked unhappy that Draco had brought his name up.

Snape didn’t say a word, but crossed the room toward Draco and Harry, who were standing next to each other. I could sense the tenseness Harry felt as Snape approached, see the way he leaned back, how his eyes carefully followed Snape.

Snape, however, didn’t notice Potter’s unease. Or pretended not too. He set the hat on the mantle above the fireplace, then made his exit.

“Why did you ask him to do that? The hat isn’t going to talk to me,” said Harry quietly to Draco once the other students had made their way to their rooms.

“How do you know? It obviously thinks you’re special,” said Draco back loudly.

Harry didn’t say anything else, but I noticed he still looked a bit upset. He didn’t press the issue, though.

“Let’s go see our dormitory,” said Draco, who I felt could see Harry’s unease.

Harry nodded, then made his way to the door, pausing to wait for Draco. When he didn’t come, Harry turned around to look at him curiously.

“You go on. I’ll be there in a minute,” Draco answered, tone easygoing and friendly.

Harry nodded, then disappeared from my sight. That was when Draco ran over to the fireplace, pushed a footstool from a chair over, and stood up upon it . Soon, I was face to face with the boy, his white teeth flashing in my face as he smiled.

“I know you’re not talking to the teachers, but maybe you’ll talk to me. Or Harry,” he whispered to me, taking me off the mantle and folding me, easily hiding me behind his back.

How dare he manhandle me like this! I admit, I was ruffled. As he rushed back to his room, I couldn’t help but admire the boldness of the boy. This must have been his plan all along, to ask Snape if I could stay here, then to take me for his own. But what exactly did he want me for? If he was hiding me from Potter, then it couldn’t be because he wanted me to talk to Harry.

Luckily for Draco, all the boys who were in the room had their backs turned as they unpacked their trunks, retrieving items, clothes, and books.

“Where were you?” asked Harry quietly, glancing up in time to see Draco hastily stow me in his trunk.

“Just tying my shoe,” lied Draco easily, his muffled voice coming to me from above the darkness I was currently surrounded in.

Potter looked a bit suspicious, but didn’t say anything more.

I heard more voices coming from above, this time belonging to different boys.

“I’m Ernie MacMillian,” said one of them, his tone kind, a bit nervous.

“I’m Draco and this is Harry,” I heard Malfoy respond.

“Theodore Nott,” came another, this one a bit more closed. I couldn’t tell what he was feeling or thinking about his new companions.

The boys settled down onto their beds, and I drowned out the sounds of their boyish talk and laughter, Draco clearly the leader among them.

I was annoyed at the boy for leaving me at the bottom of this trunk. But my annoyance was dimmed by the other things I had to think about. The boy had nerve. A Gryffindor trait. But he had asked for Slytherin. It helped me feel better about my decision.

I wanted to know more about him.

I don’t know if you have ever spent the night in a trunk, but I can tell you that it is most uncomfortable. Even for a hat. I can also tell you that I didn’t get a bit of rest. Those boys stayed up all night talking and laughing. Malfoy even opened up the trunk and rummaged around it for some candy, moving me all over the place. The nerve! I don’t know how he expects to get away with holding me hostage. Doesn’t he realize that everyone is going to notice if I’m not where Snape left me?

Just as I was having these thoughts, the top of the trunk was yanked open and light came streaming in. This only served to increase my terrible mood. I’m sure you know that when you’re sleeping, it is quite unpleasant if someone turns on the lights or pulls up your curtains. And it doesn’t help when someone picks you up and begins moving very quickly. I could feel a pounding headache coming on, which was going to put a damper on my whole day.

By now, I had realized that Malfoy was the one carrying me. Typical. We were moving out of his dormitory, where I briefly caught a flash of the other boys, who were all fast asleep. Potter had even fallen asleep with his glasses on, crooked upon his nose. I chuckled internally, thinking that those boys were going to have a rough time staying awake in class today. Except for Draco Malfoy, it seemed. He was somehow able to wake up at the crack of dawn to harass me.

We exited the dormitory and went down a set of stairs, Draco’s steps light upon the stone. At least he could keep quiet when he needed to. He crept silently across the common room, then slid into one of the armchairs near the fireplace. Setting me down on a table in front of him, he softly cleared his throat.

“Er..hi,” he whispered. He paused, staring at me. As if staring at me like that was going to make me talk to him.

“I’m not sure how to talk to you…I mean I’ve never talked to a hat before,” he continued, a little half-grin on his face. When I still didn’t answer, he spoke again. “Sorry about keeping you in my trunk. That probably wasn’t the best idea.”

You can say that again.

“I just wanted to make sure no one else would try and take you. I mean, you’re kind of a big deal right about now.”

Again with that stupid grin.

“Everything’s really crazy right now. But I wanted to thank you. I mean, I was really nervous about the sorting before this happened. I didn’t really know if I would get into Slytherin. And if I didn’t….”

He trailed off, apparently lost in his thoughts.

“It just probably would’ve been bad for me,” he said after a few minutes, his voice even quieter than before. He cleared his throat, then began speaking again. “And another thing I wanted to say…” he stopped, giving a slight laugh. “I don’t even know if you can understand me. I could be talking to myself. Oh well,” he said, resuming our one-sided conversation.

“I’m worried about Harry,” he said softly, staring at me once more. “I think he thinks this whole thing is his fault. And he seems really nervous about everyone hating him and blaming him. So if you could…er…have a word with him about that? It seems like you won’t talk to me, but I think you owe him that much.”

Silence. The boy was done talking. He kicked out a footstool from an armchair and pushed it over near the fireplace as he had done last night.  Standing onto it, he carefully placed me back on the mantle. Then he dropped back down, put the stool in place, and left.

The Malfoy boy had given me a lot to think about. He was certainly right about me having to talk to Harry; I knew that for sure. It was upsetting to think that Harry thought he was to blame for this whole thing.

I was mulling over these thoughts for longer than I thought, because before I knew it the portrait had swung open and in came Snape. He threw a quick glance up at me, then strode away toward the dormitories. I could hear his sharp voice ordering his students to wake up and the sounds of groggy students starting to move around.

A few minutes later, Snape was back in the common room. He stood in the center of the room, arms crossed over his chest, waiting for his new students to arrive. Personally, I thought this was a bit intimidating. But apparently Snape wasn’t overly concerned with making a friendly first impression.

The students slowly began to drift down the staircases, arriving in groups of two’s or three’s. All the first year boys came down together, and, except for Malfoy, they wore identical expressions of exhaustion. I observed with amusement how Harry’s hair seemed to be sticking up in every direction, and that his glasses were still crooked.

“Today is the first day of classes,” began Snape, his voice barely raised. “I will call your name, and you will come get your schedule. I suggest you all behave yourselves,” he said, his gaze lingering on the small group of first year boys. “Any misbehavior on your part will reflect on me, and we do not wish that to happen.”

I thought this was overdoing it a bit; Harry looked absolutely terrified. Even Draco looked a bit uneasy.

“After I hand out schedules, you will go down to breakfast. Classes start promptly after breakfast. After dinner, I will return to go over our house…or dormitory…rules.”

He began calling the names out alphabetically. Once everyone had received their schedules, they began comparing them with each other’s. I saw Malfoy nudge Harry and grin, pointing to something on their schedules. Harry gave him a tentative smile in return.

Snape cleared his throat, and the babble of voices died down. “You will not be having classes with only your dormitory mates. They will be mixed up with all the students in your year. Also, I have been informed that you are welcome to sit at any table you want for breakfast, with any students you want.”

The older students smiled at this news, glad that they would not be separated from their old house friends. Most of the first years looked nervous, especially Harry.

“That is all. You may make your way to the Great Hall now.”

The older students began rushing out, schedules in hand to compare with other friends. The first years stayed put, however.

“Do you remember how to get back to the Great Hall?” another blonde boy asked Malfoy. I could see the first year girls were having a similar conversation.

“Er…not exactly,” answered Malfoy.

Snape, who had been watching the students exit, turned his attention toward the first year. He watched them for a few minutes then said, “Follow me.” With a swish of his cloak, he had stepped through the portrait hole and was gesturing for the first years to follow him. The first years looked at each with surprise, but then quickly scrambled through the portrait hole. It swung shut after the last first year with a dull thunk.

Finally some peace and quiet. I’ll take this time to get some of that missed rest from the night before.