"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
Harry watched as the blond girl he had met from before walked up to the stool and sat down. She looked nervous, he noted.
"HUFFLEPUFF!" Shouted the hat.
The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.
"Bones, Susan!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!" Shouted the hat again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah, who hugged the girl the moment she arrived.
"Boot, Terry!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
Harry sighed as he realized it would be awhile before they called his name. Sometimes he hated how his last name started with a letter near the end of the alphabet.
As his ears picked up the names of the people being called and his mind cataloged what house they were sorted into, he decided to focus most of his attentions on his own thoughts. Mainly, Harry tried to determine what he would do depending on the house he was sorted into. During the summer he had come up with many plans on what he wanted to accomplish, and while all paths led to the same goal, each one he could take branched out in many different directions. Each plan would change depending on what house he fell in with.
Of course, he hadn't planned for every occasion. Naturally, while Harry knew quite a bit about magical Britain thanks to his self-studies and Andromeda, he didn't know everything. It would be impossible to plan for every eventuality, especially when he didn't know anything about his peers. How would they react to his plans? Who would oppose him? Who would align themselves with him? These things would take research before he could put any of his half-formed plans into action.
Harry took careful note of the few people he had met when they were sorted. While both Hannah and Susan went into Hufflepuff, Blaise, Daphne and Tracey were sorted into Slytherin. On the other end of the spectrum, Hermione Granger ended in Gryffindor.
One of the people who caught Harry's eye the most when they were sorted was Neville Longbottom, the round faced boy whose robe was fastened under his left ear. He looked far more nervous than all of the other students, almost tripping on his own two feet in his haste to get his sorting over with. Unfortunately for Neville, the hat took much longer to decide where it would sort him and he was forced to endure the stares until then.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
More and more people went, and Harry's mind automatically identified and memorized each and every one of them. His keen mind and observant eyes cataloged everything he could about the people he would share classes with; the way they walked; the way they held themselves; the expressions on their faces. Nothing escaped his notice, which was good, because he would need every bit of information he could glean if his plans had any hopes of getting off the ground.
"Potter, Harry!"
And then it was his turn. Harry straightened his back and set his shoulders as he strode forward with confident steps that belied his nerves. He held his head high, projecting the air of someone who did not feel even the slightest bit apprehensive.
Whispers broke out amongst the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
"Wow, he's really tall for a first year."
"Look at how cute he is!"
Harry almost lost his demeanor when he heard the comments being made. He truly hoped he would not be subject to any of the cheek pinching some of the older girls at his former school had done when he was younger.
Well, if they did, at least it wouldn't be around Lisa to give her any ammunition to tease him with.
Sitting down, the last thing Harry saw before the hat drooped over his eyes was the entirety of the Great Hall staring at him in breathless anticipation.
For a moment nothing happened, and Harry suddenly felt incredibly stupid for wearing this large hat that didn't even fit his head. How could something like a piece of cloth, albeit, a magical piece of cloth with the ability to talk, possibly sort him into his house?
Those thoughts left him when he felt it, an intrusion in his mind. It felt like someone was poking around in the head with a stick. It was invasive, intrusive, and Harry reacted in the same manner he had done when he heard the scream. Violently.
His magic roiled forth, a hurricane that seemed to build within his mind. Like a pressure valve about to explode, the gates holding Harry's magic creaked as he prepared to unleash his power and shove the intruder out.
And then a voice entered his mind, stopping him in his tracks.
"Be at ease, Mr. Potter. I am not going to harm you in anyway."
Harry blinked once, twice, thrice. "Sorting Hat?" he asked tentatively.
"It is I," the hat replied, sounding amused. "And might I say that was an impressive display of power you just showed. Had I not said anything, I dare say that would have shoved me out of your mind quite violently."
"How are you even in my mind in the first place?" asked Harry, his own natural inquisitiveness coming to the fore as his magic settled down. Now that he knew who was in his mind he wasn't as worried. Well, he was, but he was more curious and eager to learn about this seeming impossibility than he was at the thought of having a magical hat poking around in his head. At least for the moment.
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