The sorting
Minerva had been right: The entire school was watching as Dumbledore placed a big, shaggy hat onto a stool. Tom wandered if the hat would broadcast their thoughts to all the others and went pale. He really did not want any of his secrets to be known. Then the hat started singing a cheery song about the houses and friendship and learning wonderful magic. Tom’s fear turned into the hat singing about his secrets. What did even rhyme on “likes boys”?
“Avery, Gordian!”, Dumbledore called and a dark blond boy walked up to the stool on shaky legs and set down. Dumbledore put the hat on his head and it immediately yelled “SLYTHERIN”. Avery walked over to a cheering table, dressed in green ties. “Axman, Alice!” A tall, dark skinned girl sat on the stool. This time the hat took longer. “HUFFLEPUFF!” The yellow table cheered. Then Dumbledore called out: “Black, Alphard!” The beautiful boy Tom had seen in the train walked up to the chair. “SLYTHERIN!”, the hat yelled after short hesitation.
“Borgin, Constance!”, Dumbledore called. Tom nervously watched Constance go. At least the hat didn’t tell everybody your secrets. “SLYTHERIN!” Constance walked over to the green table full of cheering people and sat down next to Alphard. “Elton, Maxwell!” “RAVENCLAW!” “Fawley, Robert!” “GRYFFINDOR!” “Goyle, Bertha!” “SLYTHERIN!” “Hopper, Daniel!” “HUFFLEPUFF!” “Jackson, Holly!” GRYFFINDOR!” “Jinn, Ben” “HUFFLEPUFF!” “Löhr, Michael!” “RAVENCLAW!” “Macmillan, Augusta!” The mean girl from earlier marched up to the stool with the clear cut and determined steps, that Tom usually only saw in grandpa Thomas’s high ranking military friends. “GRYFFINDOR!”, the hat yelled immediately as if Augusta had threatened it to. “Malfoy, Abraxas!”, the pointy faced blond boy, became a Slytherin and Malkin, Dana a Hufflepuff.
And then: “McGonagall, Minerva!” Tom gave his friend a reassuring smile, as she walked up to the stool and Dumbledore placed the hat on her black hair. “Come on, Ravenclaw or Gryffindor! Ravenclaw or Gryffindor! Better Ravenclaw, because Dumbledore is not there! Give her what she wants, hat!”, Tom thought while staring up to his friend. Nothing happened. Minerva just sat there, with the shabby, old hat on her head, as the kids and teachers slowly got nervous. Tom changed his thoughts to: “Come on, do something! Anything! Just don’t break her mind!” “Wow…”, Lance Prewett whispered next to him, “A hat-stall. I never thought I would ever see one.” Tom whipped around to him. “What did you mean with that?” Lance shrugged. “My uncle told me that sometimes, in extremely rare cases, they need more then five minutes to sort, because they can’t decide between two houses.”, the redhead explained.
The headmaster, a thin man in white robes began to chat with a female teacher to his left. Professor Slughorn leaned over to a tall woman with long, blonde hair and whispered something into her ear. The other teacher nodded excitedly. “GRYFFINDOR!”, the hat yelled and everybody flinched. Minerva received the loudest round of applause so far, as she wobbled over to the screaming red table. The sorting continued.
“Nott, Mercy!”, “RAVENCLAW!” Whispers rose in the great hall. Apparently something unusual had just happened. “Nott, Popina!” “SLYTHERIN!” “Numbers, William!” “HUFFLEPUFF!” “Oakwand, Trajan!” “GRYFFINDOR!” “Ottmar, Lea!” “HUFFLEPUFF!” “Ovenbread, Hendrix!” “GRYFFINDOR!” “Pomfrey, Poppy!” “RAVENCLAW!” “Prewett, Lance!” The redhead nodded at Tom and walked to Professor Dumbledore, making a big show of sitting down in a totally nonchalant way, grinning into the big room. “GRYFFINDOR!”, the hat yelled as soon as it touched Lance’s red locks.
“Quickhex, Nancy!” “RAVENCLAW!” “Quickhex, Paul!” “RAVENCLAW!” “Rap, Alexander!” “HUFFLEPUFF!” And finally:
“Riddle, Tom Marvolo!” Tom could feel the eyes of the entire school rest on him, as he walked up to the stool an sat down. Dumbledore was standing right behind him, Tom could smell his lemon perfume. The hat was placed on the young wizard’s head and he suppressed a scream, as suddenly a squeaky voice started to speak in his mind. “Hm, you have a very interesting lineage, don’t you? And so eager to learn. But you are also brave. Thought about joining the army, didn’t you? What ambitions you have! Top of class? Colonel like your grandpa? Hm... where should I put you?” “Don’t put me in Dumbledore’s house! He will ruin everything!”, Tom plead in thought. “Yes, I do think you would do much better in SLYTHERIN!”
Tom handed the hat back to Dumbledore and rushed over to the green table. Constance was standing up and clapping and whistling. He gave her a tired smile and dropped down on the bench next to her. Now that the excitement of the sorting was over he felt incredibly tired and hungry. The other kids coldly introduced themselves, but Tom really did not care. He didn’t really pay attention to the rest of the sorting, only shortly listening up, when “Sinistra, Kelly!”, and “Underground, Otto!” were sorted into Slytherin too. Finally “Zonko, Frank!” got sorted into Ravenclaw and the headmaster rose from his golden chair. As if by spell, the whole hall went quiet.
“Welcome in Hogwarts, my dear students, my name is Professor Dippet. I am proud to see all of you in these noble halls. Now that we will start into the new school year I want to remind everybody, but especially the young Miss Sprout, that the forbidden forest carries that name for a reason and that first and second years may not go to Hogsmeade, even if their families live there. That would be it. Enjoy the feast!”
Headmaster Dippet clapped into his hands and suddenly the table was filled with food. It smelled wonderful. Tom put some chicken curry, some mashed potatoes and a green salad onto his plate and draped the napkin onto his lap, like mommy had taught him. “Riddle, huh? I never heard of a noble wizarding family called Riddle”, Abraxas, the blond boy, said suddenly. “I come from a muggle family, though a noble one nonetheless”, Tom forced himself to say politely. He still remembered what the boy had said in the train.
For the rest of the feast only Constance talked to him, while the others seemed way too busy talking about him. At least Minerva had been right: The food was delicious. It almost tasted as good as the food the cooks in Riddle Manor made. He almost felt at home already, he thought, while laughing about a Quidditch joke Constance had told him.