Never According to the Plan

She tripped on the steps leading up to the old stool, beside which stood the sternest looking woman Hermione had ever seen. A woman Hermione now knew to be Minerva McGonagall, Professor of Transfiguration and head of Gryffindor house. Hermione Granger was at the front of the Great Hall, where she sat down on the stool abruptly and felt Professor McGonagall place the sorting hat onto her head. As this happened, Hermione found herself wishing something that she had never wished before: that she had a smaller head. Hermione had noticed that on students with smaller heads (such as the newest member of the Hufflepuff house, Hannah Abbott) the hat fell right down to their nose and covered their eyes, blinding them from the awkwardness and embarrassment Hermione was now facing, with all eyes of, gosh she couldn’t bear to count, but so many students! ‘That is odd,’ Hermione found herself thinking. ‘I never found anything in Hogwarts: A History about just how many students Hogwarts has! It looks pretty full to capacity here. Well, there are seven years here, and four houses...’ Hermione set to work calculating the approximate number of students staring at her at this very moment.

“Well, well...” said a small, wry voice in her ear, causing Hermione to start a little. She had completely forgotten where she was until that moment. The sorting hat spoke again:
“Your thirst for knowledge gives me an instant idea where to put you now; Miss Granger...” whispered the hat in her ear. “After all, ‘wit beyond measure-”

“-is a man’s greatest treasure” finished Hermione.

“Yes, yes, very good Miss Granger, it certainly would appear that Ravenclaw would be suited to your needs...” Hermione’s heart leapt, Ravenclaw would be perfect. The hat seemed to be following her thoughts. “Yes...” it said slowly, “perfect... conceivably. But is this perhaps, the easy way out? Yes, I sense more from you Miss Granger. I can see your heart, and it strikes me as plausibly valiant. That might make you a suitable candidate for Gryffindor...” Hermione smiled, Gryffindor would suit her just fine too. She knew her parents would be more than proud if they learned she had been placed where the sorting hat had just described as the house ‘where dwell the brave at heart’ “You are a hard witch to sort, Miss Granger” whispered the hat in an eerie sort of way that was beginning to creep her out, “You would do so well, in all of the houses here, you bear the striving ambition that Salazar Slytherin did seek in his students...” Hermione squirmed. She did not imagine her Muggle-born blood status would go down too well in Slytherin. “No?” mused the hat, “How about Hufflepuff? You contain the sort of loyalty that Helga herself would be proud of.” Hermione pondered this. Hufflepuff wouldn’t be dreadful, she supposed, but well... she did think more of herself than that. Hufflepuff wasn’t exactly considered the most desirable house. “No perhaps you’re right Miss Granger” said the hat, “It should be Ravenclaw or Gryffindor.”

Hermione was becoming impatient. She was sure no one else had taken this long. Students were starting to look bored and hungry and whispering among themselves, and Hermione saw a tall, red-haired third year sitting on the Gryffindor table, smirk and mouth ‘Hatstall’ at the boy sitting opposite him that Hermione could only assume to be his twin brother.

“Come on, hurry up!” Hermione muttered irritably. She did not like being the source of impatient mutterings from the four, hungry house tables.

“Well” said the hat indignantly, “you’re not making this any easier! If you had any preference to which house you wish to be in, maybe it would deter me from the other! And besides, this is no matter to be rushed! This decision will have an inexplicably large impact on your life for the next seven years! But I do get a feeling from you Miss Granger, a feeling of great potential in that brave and valiant heart of yours. I hope this is the right decision, it better be GRYFFINDOR!” The hat shouted this last word out for the whole Great Hall to hear, and finally, with a huge sigh of relief, slipped the hat off her head and went to join the long table that was now clapping and cheering in her honour. As she sat down, she noticed Ronald Weasley, whom she had met on the train, looking slightly crestfallen as he stood in the crowd of first-years yet to be sorted. He was jealous, she expected, because he was expecting to be in Hufflepuff and wished he was, like her, a Gryffindor. ‘I wouldn’t be surprised if he did become a Hufflepuff’ thought Hermione huffily, ‘judging by that abysmal spell he tried to do on the train on the way here.’ She smirked at the memory of it. She realised then that Ronald was still watching her broodingly, and she tried to turn the smirk into an encouraging smile, but was not sure how well it turned out, given that Ronald proceeded to turn around to face the stool again, looking slightly put-out, and if possible, even more nervous.

As luck should have it, Ronald Weasley did become a Gryffindor, along with the famous Harry Potter, that he had been with on the train here. Hermione saw Harry looking rather disgustedly at the Slytherin table and followed his gaze. He was looking at the pale, pointed face and blonde hair of Draco Malfoy, who Hermione saw attempt to speak to Harry only half an hour ago, in the Entrance Hall. The Slytherin table did look a bit morose, she had to admit. But they couldn’t all be evil, dark wizards, she thought, it just wasn’t possible. The Malfoy boy was now looking around, smirking, clearly flouncing his ‘superiority’ of being a Slytherin. Hermione looked away, disgusted. Still, she couldn’t help herself thinking, was that any worse than what everyone else was doing? She herself was already filled with a great sense of pride to be in Gryffindor, and she was sure she was not a minority. What was so bad about the Slytherins showing this same sense of pride in their house? She didn’t know why, but there was something about that Draco Malfoy, about the whole of Slytherin House, that intrigued her...