The Spiteful Sorting Hat

Gilderoy Lockhart

Harry had a very strange encounter at the breakfast table the next morning. Many of his fellow Slytherins had been curious to hear where he and Blaise had been during the start of term ceremonies. Several students approached him soon after he had made his appearance in the common room, greeting him as an old friend in spite of the fact that Harry remembered very few of their names. Although Harry never spoke more than two words to any of them, it wasn't unusual for him to receive this much unwanted attention. He was, after all, "The Boy Who Lived." Blaise told him not to worry, and seemed to enjoy being in the spotlight, particularly when his audience consisted of the older girls. Harry allowed him to make their excuses, knowing full well that Blaise would invent a story far more interesting than "we missed our train."

But he would not be able to escape the notice of one particular student so easily.

It happened while Harry was tending to Hedwig. She arrived with the morning mail though she had nothing to deliver, and Harry was gently patting her feathers as a thank you for checking in when a small, skinny boy approached him. Harry could tell from the boy's uniform that he was in Slytherin, though it was his size and the way he trembled from head to foot with excitement that gave him away as a first year.

"Er, hi?" Harry said after the boy had stared at him in rapt amazement without saying a word for half a minute.

"Oh wow!" he finally exclaimed, as if awaiting this most meager sign of acknowledgment to release his elation. "It's you! I mean it's really, really you!"

"Yup, I'm me all right," Harry said, preparing to turn away. He didn't have time for fanboys.

Unluckily, the boy was undaunted, and Harry was forced to submit to a still-longer exchange when the boy thrust his hand forward and eagerly introduced himself.

"My name is Colin Creevy! It's such an honor to meet you, Mr. Harry Potter!"

"You really don't have to call me mister," Harry said. He accepted the hand offered to him, though he felt he would come to regret it later. He was painfully conscious of Blaise and Millie seated across from him, both snickering into plates of egg and sausage.

"I can't believe I'm actually talking to the real Harry Potter!" Creevy continued, exactly as if he hadn't heard a word of what Harry said, "I've heard all about you. They say you were raised by muggles! Me too! My dad's a milkman. Imagine his surprise when he found out I was accepted to a school for wizards! And there's so much to learn... Like, I just heard about you on the train, and about how you defeated you-know-who... Do you know who? No one will tell me his name! Oh, but I know he was a bad wizard and all... And you just a baby! Can you imagine? Oh, of course you can! You were there! And then you killed that teacher last year, too. What was his name? Squirrel? Interesting name for a man, Squirrel... But then these magical folks all have interesting names, don't they? Like Dumbledore... Anyway, when I heard about the sorting, I really wanted to be in Gryffindor! But then someone said Harry Potter – that's you – had been sorted into Slytherin last year, and I thought I had to meet you and this might be the best way and so I asked the hat if I could be in Slytherin instead and it agreed! I must be the luckiest boy in the world! Anyway, can I take your picture?"

"W-What?" Harry stammered. Creevy talked so quickly and seemingly without the need to breathe, Harry couldn't quite understand what had just happened. About the only thing he understood for certain was that this boy actually asked to be in Slytherin. And because of Harry, evidently.

Harry directed his gaze to Blaise and Millie for support. "Why is this happening to me?"

"The hat hates you, I guess," Millie whispered back.

Creevy had not witnessed this brief exchange. He was busy fiddling with a large, cumbersome camera around his neck.

"Dad said I should take lots of pictures, and my friend... Oh!" Colin seemed to remember something, and he turned away, sprinting down the length of the table. Harry sat in stunned silence, thinking Creevy had abandoned the conversation he'd forced on Harry in the first place. But Creevy was not gone for long. He simply ran to the end of the table, pulled another first year boy from his seat, and forcibly dragged him back to Harry with the strength of his determination alone, for the other boy was trying very hard to make his escape.