Tell us, Sorting Hat,
do you remember?
Quiet confession from the boy reflecting off the walls of the orphanage. The old man’s appraising gaze. Judgements. Suspicions.
Tell me, Sorting Hat,
did you know?
Rise of the Dark Lord within Hogwarts’ safe walls. Opening the Chamber of Secrets. Unclean blood shed. Accusation of the innocent.
Tell us, Sorting Hat,
did you hear?
The matrons’ screams. The little boy’s begs. The priest’s players reflect off the God’s House. And pain, pain so great that the tiny body trembled, losing consciousness every now and then. You will survive, they said. We have to help you.
Assurances of innocence because he didn’t understand why it was happening, he didn’t do anything, he wouldn’t be able to.
Tell us, Sorting Hat,
did you see?
Hatred in the eyes of the victim who was far too young to feel like this. Nasty thoughts tormenting the young mind. Idea.
Did he get that power to defend himself?
The plan forming when he watched drops racing on the glass.
The scream of a child.. His bunny, the only memento of his parents swaying slowly in front of his flushed face. The bling eyes somewhere in distance, a loop tighten around the neck.
Forward… backward… forward…
“MISS COLE!”
Pushing the executioner into the attic as punishment without noticing he was a victim first.
Where God was, he thinks, when they pushed him down the stairs; when they called him the devil; when they suffocated him in holy water; when–
He didn’t listen.
Why would he?
Tell us, Sorting Hat,
do you remember?
Slowly falling into the madness of such a wonderful mind. Torture the loyal for non-existent failitures. Constantly making mistakes.
The prophecy.
Tell us, Sorting Hat,
do you remember?
Please not my son, please, take me instead.
Have mercy. Please . Please not my baby.
Mummy loves you, Harry. Daddy loves you. Be brave, Harry.
Stand back, fool!
No, I’m beggi—
Tell us, Sorting Hat,
did you know?
Black running after his own friend. Lights crossing a muggle street. An explosion whose only witnesses were corpses, a rat and a young man. A cry of despair and a hysterical laugh. Life in pieces.
No one could protest when his hands were handcuffed. After all, the dead don’t talk.
ANOTHER DEATH EATER CAUGHT: BLACK'S HEIR SENT TO AZKABAN.
Tell us, Sorting Hat,
did you hear?
(They are the worst kind of Muggles I have ever seen, Albus.)
For Harry Potter, the Boy – Who – Lived!
Tell us, Sorting Hat,
did you see?
A bundle sleeping on the doorstep with a letter at his frozen tiny feet, completely unaware of the tragedy that took place before his eyes. Blood leaking lazily from the scar that sealed his fate. Such a poor little thing.
Tell us, Sorting Hat,
do you remember?
Crying coming from a dark cupboard under the stairs:
“Pwease, uncle ‘elnon. Pwease, I’ll be good, weally…”
He didn’t listen.
Why would he?
Tell us, Sorting Hat,
did you know?
“Don’t put me in Slytherin, don’t put me in Slytherin, don’t put me in Slythe–”
(Why?)
Home. Family. Friendship. Hope. Love. Emotions so vivid they couldn't be yours. You saw the minds of so many children before him and none felt so intense.
Give up, something told her. Just this once.
And so she did.
Tell me, Sorting Hat,
did you hear?
A hissing coming out of the cracked mount of a fragile boy. Snake’s response.
Tell us, Sorting Hat,
did you see?
Children soldiers. Leaning arms with too much weight on them. Broken spines. Wounds on heart and body. Decisions no one should make, especially at this age. Fatal victims of a battle for power fought by two people.
Giving up in the pawn's green eyes. Gloomy acceptance. Swallowed tears. A deathly walk with head raised high. Pride.
I will die, he thought, but without the bitterness or fear he should have felt. Tone of stating facts from history or commenting on the weather. No reflective betrayal after he heard that even his parents want him dead.
Tell us, Sorting Hat,
H O W C O U L D Y O U ?
The future is fluid, she replied. I couldn’t be sure. After all, I’m just a hat.
Liar.
You were just bored, weren't you?
You wanted to see the world burn.
You wanted to see how many people’s lives you can destroy with just one small decision;
how one inconspicuous viewer can unleash hell.
But how long will you be satisfied with the destruction you've made?