This is just an idea at the minute. Please tell me what you think.

Apologies for the rubbish sorting song.

Names taken from books and The Original Forty on Pottermore. Anything you recognise belongs to JK Rowling. Unfortunately I haven't quite mastered the transfiguration required to put the rights into my nameā€¦

Btw, not every student has changed house. Just some important ones.


The sorting hat was feeling pissed off.

Dumbledore, BLOODY DUMBLEDORE was attempting to poke his already overlarge nose into his department, and give instructions on who should be in what house.

In fact, he was so pissed off that if he was so inclined as to express his feelings, the long string of expletives would have ensured he never sorted another student.

Right now it was a tempting option.

He surveyed the first years gathered before him. They were a motley crew. Most were shivering with nerves, and some were quivering with excitement. Others were blank and expressionless, but they were few and far between.

The whole hall was looking expectantly to the front, but the hat decided to draw out the silence for a little longer. Eventually the fool, Dumbledore, cleared his throat. He had no desire to hear the buffoon speak, so opened his mouth to begin his song...

A thousand years or more ago

When I was newly sewn,

The founders built a magic school

Their names are still well known

But soon they quarrelled so much that

They split the school in four.

The houses that divide you,

And do much damage more.

You might belong in Gryffindor

Where dwell the brave at heart

Their daring, nerve and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart

Or perhaps in wise old Ravenclaw

If you've a ready mind

Where those of wit and learning

Will always find their kind.

You might belong in Hufflepuff

Where they are just and loyal

Those faithful Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

Now in the past your choices made

An impact on your place.

But now I'll work without their aid

And show you your true face.

I really cannot now care less

Where you want to go.

I'll put you with those with like-minds,

Be it friend or foe.

So put me on! Don't be afraid,

And don't get in a flap!

But don't expect to get your way,

For I'm an angry cap.

As expected, the usual applause was punctuated with whispers. The hat could feel Dumbledore's glare bearing into its back. This was going to be fun.

"Abbot, Hannah!" called McGonagall, one of Dumbledore's lackeys.

The hat considered the blonde pigtailed girl sat beneath him.


"Bones, Susan!"

He hat smiled. What a nice introduction for what was to come.


He felt the girl's surprise before she moved off to join her new house, and smiled wryly.

"Boot, Terry!"

Ah, a muggleborn! He couldn't help but love them; they always arrived so blissfully unaware of the prejudices of the magical world...


"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"


"Brown, Lavender!"


"Bulstrode, Millicent!"


"Cornfoot, Stephen!"


"Crabbe, Vincent!"

The sorting hat remembered his father. He had begged so hard to be in Slytherin, all he had wanted to do was to please his family. However it sent him down a dark path, and the hat wasn't going to make the same mistake this time.


There were a number of gasps, and Crabbe sat frozen beneath the stool. Eventually he was coaxed off by a stunned Professor McGonagall.

"Corner, Michael!"


"Davis, Tracey!"


"Entwhistle, Kevin!"


"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"


"Finnegan, Seamus!"

Ah, now this was an interesting one.


"Goldstein, Anthony!"

The sorting hat ignored the boy's pleas to be placed in Ravenclaw like his mother.


"Goyle, Gregory!"

Ah, nothing changed. Yet again, a Crabbe and a Goyle who were like two peas in a pod.


"Granger, Hermione!"

The muggleborn was so eager she almost ran up to the stool, oblivious to the previous boys distress.


"Greengrass, Daphne!"


"Hopkins, Wayne!"


"Jones, Megan"


"Li, Sue!"


"Longbottom, Neville!"

Another pleader. There was no way I was placing this boy in Hufflepuff.


"MacDougal, Isobel!"


"Macmillan, Ernest!"


Another sting of surprise, but the hat knew he would do well there.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Ah, now THIS was interesting. The boy was screaming Slytherin at him, but once you got past his mental barriers he was quite a different person altogether.


"Moon, Mark!"


"Nott, Theodore!"

Hmm, ANOTHER interesting one.


"Parkinson, Pansy!"


"Patil, Padma!"


"Patil, Parvati!"


"Perks, Sally-Anne!"


"Potter, Harry!"

Oh. Here he was, the Boy-Who-Lived himself. The one to blame for this entire ruckus. As the boy slipped him over his head, whispers flickered around the hall, and the hat immediately became lost in the boys mind. He wasn't what he'd expected. He was neither spoilt, arrogant, or self-centred. Instead he was humble, naive, and worst of all, DEFEATED. In a moment of pity the hat decided to change all of that. Besides, he WAS a speaker.


There was a silence in which the hat wondered if he'd done the right thing. The boy sat still on the stool where he remembered a red head boy telling him all Slytherins were evil.

Well? Move, boy, growled the hat. The Potter boy sat at his table reluctantly. Nobody was clapping.

"Roper, Sophie!"


"Smith, Sally!"


"Smith, Zaharias!"


This boy was angry about that.

"Thomas, Dean!"


"Turpin, Lisa!"


What was it with people being unhappy with Slytherin today?

"Weasley, Ron!"

At first the hat thought that this one belonged in Slytherin with Potter. The youngest Weasley boy had been conspiring with Dumbledore when he spouted lies about Slytherins. But he hadn't really, he realised. The boy was just doing as he was told. However, perhaps it might do to give him a little shock of his own...


There was uproar at the Gryffindor table, and the boy blushed right to his hair. Ron was the first Weasley to be sorted outside of that house in over six generations, although personally the hat thought that Percy would have been a very good Ravenclaw...

"Zabini, Blaise!"

This one was simple.


And the sorting was done for another year. The hat couldn't hold back a smug smile as he was swept from the hall by a shaky McGonagall. Once he was alone he sighed. All he had left to do now was make up the song for next year. If there was a next year. Dumbledore was going to be apocalyptically angry.

He was quite looking forward to it.