Chapter 15: The Sorting Hat's Unorthodox Rap
"Don't panic," Douglas said evenly. "You need to trust Headmaster Dumbledore. They'll be all right."
He gave Percy a light, grounding look.
"As for the things you're worried about, the adults will handle them. Go back to your seat, listen to the Headmaster, and eat something before you make yourself ill."
Hermione glanced nervously toward Dumbledore, then back at Douglas.
"Professor Holmes… will Harry and Ron be expelled?"
Douglas shook his head and pointed subtly toward Professor McGonagall, who was just then leading the first-years into the hall.
"I'm sorry, Miss Granger, but I think only Professor McGonagall, as Head of Gryffindor, can answer that properly."
Seeing the new students arrive, Percy patted Hermione lightly on the shoulder and turned at once to return to the Gryffindor table.
The Sorting was about to begin.
No matter how anxious he felt, this was not the moment to trouble the professors further.
Besides, Professor Snape had already gone to look for Ron and Harry.
Snape might dislike Gryffindors, but that did not prevent him from doing his duty as a Hogwarts professor.
And Percy trusted Dumbledore.
He trusted Douglas too.
Since Dumbledore had become Headmaster, no student had truly been abandoned.
Hermione bit her lip and followed Percy back to her seat.
Dumbledore looked at Douglas with amused interest.
"Douglas," he said with a faint smile, "it seems you're still quite popular."
Professor Sprout, sitting nearby, wore the fond smile of a favorite aunt.
Douglas rolled his eyes at the pair of them.
"That's only because I met the Weasleys and the Grangers in Diagon Alley yesterday, and we all had dinner together."
He lowered his voice.
"That's why Miss Granger asked me first."
Back when Douglas had still been a student, plenty of younger witches had taken an interest in him.
One Christmas, one of them had even secretly given him a little cake laced with a love potion.
If Douglas had not promptly handed the cake to Dumbledore as a Christmas gift, he might actually have fallen for it.
As for whether Dumbledore had been affected—
Well, it was Dumbledore who later explained exactly what had been in the cake.
And not long after that, at the start of one school term, he had gone out of his way to remind the students that potions were not to be used on classmates without a teacher's supervision.
The Sorting began soon afterward.
Professor McGonagall guided the first-years into the center of the hall between the four long house tables.
For the moment, they were the center of the entire school.
In the flickering candlelight, hundreds of faces watched them, pale and intent, like lanterns suspended in the dark.
The children looked utterly terrified.
As she had done every year, Professor McGonagall gently placed a four-legged stool before them.
Then, onto the stool, she set the Sorting Hat—
pointed, patched, worn, and so filthy it looked as though no one had cleaned it in centuries.
The hat twitched.
Then the brim split open like a mouth.
And instead of beginning in solemn rhyme, it launched into something far less dignified.
"I know what you're going to say—My name is the Sorting Hat today.Yes, I'm shabby, patched, and grimy,But all that age has made me… wise-y.
I say Gryffindor, you say brave!I say Ravenclaw, you say learned!I say Slytherin, you say cunning!I say Hufflepuff, you say loyal!"
At once, the older students at all four tables shouted back with enthusiasm.
Douglas stared.
He had honestly assumed the hat would abandon this style after he graduated.
Back in his own student days, he had once taught the Sorting Hat a completely improper sort of rap while visiting the Headmaster's office.
To his astonishment, the hat had loved it.
Professor McGonagall had strongly disapproved at first, but she had not been Headmistress and could do little while Dumbledore continued indulging the thing.
Then, in one memorable year, Douglas had been a minute late to Transfiguration and earned two weeks of detention for it.
After that, Professor McGonagall never again interfered with the Hat's performances.
The first-years standing in the middle of the hall looked utterly bewildered.
The second-years, however, smiled knowingly.
After all, they had worn the same expression the year before.
When the song ended, the hall burst into applause, with Fred and George leading the whistling from the Gryffindor table.
The Sorting Hat bowed grandly toward each of the four house tables, then fell still.
Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment in hand.
"When I call your name," she said to the first-years, "you will put on the hat, sit on the stool, and wait to be sorted."
The ceremony proceeded smoothly enough.
Then Douglas happened to glance toward one of the high windows—
and saw two familiar heads peering in.
In the dim light, he recognized them immediately.
Harry Potter and Ron Weasley.
A moment later, a third figure appeared behind them.
Tall. Black-robed. Long-haired. Smiling in that distinctly unsettling way that meant Severus Snape had found exactly what he was looking for.
Douglas raised his goblet very slightly toward the window and smiled.
The gesture did not go unnoticed.
Several of the teachers turned to see what had caught his eye.
"Severus?" someone murmured.
Ten minutes earlier, Harry and Ron had survived what felt very much like a crash and a near-death experience beneath the Whomping Willow.
Bruised, stiff, and aching all over, they had hauled their damaged trunks across the sloping grounds toward Hogwarts castle.
This was nothing like the triumphant arrival they had imagined.
By the time they neared the Great Hall, both of them felt cold, battered, and deeply miserable.
Ron dropped his broken trunk on the steps and hurried to one of the bright windows.
"Look!" he whispered. "They've already started—and they're sorting!"
His face fell.
"What a shame. I was hoping that this year I'd get to sing along with the older students during the Sorting Hat's song."
Harry joined him at the window, equally regretful.
Together they peered inside the hall, wondering why Snape seemed to be missing from the staff table.
Then a cold voice spoke behind them.
"Perhaps he is waiting to hear why the two of you failed to arrive by train like normal students."
Both boys spun around so fast they nearly slipped.
Severus Snape stood there, black robes snapping in the wind, wearing a smile that was somehow worse than outright anger.
Then Snape lifted his head slightly and, through the window, caught sight of Douglas at the staff table raising a goblet in greeting.
His face darkened.
He gave a cold snort.
"You two. Follow me."
With that, he turned sharply and swept away toward the dungeons.
Harry and Ron followed, trembling, both glancing back miserably at the warm, brilliant Great Hall behind them.
For one dreadful moment, each of them privately thought the same thing:
This may be the last time I ever see this place as a student.
Before the Sorting had finished, Professor Snape returned to his seat.
He bent and murmured something in Dumbledore's ear.
Once the last first-year had been sorted, Dumbledore rose to his feet.
As old as he was, he looked as lively as ever.
He spread his arms wide to the students, as though this truly were the happiest evening of the year.
"Welcome," he said warmly. "Welcome, all of you, to a new year at Hogwarts."
"Before the feast begins, I have some very happy news to share."
He smiled broadly.
"This year, I am delighted to welcome a new member to our staff."
He turned and gestured.
"Professor Holmes."
Then, with unmistakable amusement, he added,
"It is a rare thing indeed to find someone willing to apply for the Defense Against the Dark Arts post of his own accord."
Douglas rose and inclined his head to the hall.
The response was immediate.
A burst of applause thundered through the room.
It began among the older Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors, many of whom recognized him at once.
Then some of the older Ravenclaws and Slytherins seemed to explain hurriedly to the younger students who he was.
Though some of them looked distinctly reluctant, they still joined the applause.
The younger students had no idea what was happening.
They simply followed along.
At the staff table, only Snape wore the expression of a man who had just swallowed a live fly.
Dumbledore waited for the applause to fade.
"Well then," he said cheerfully, "I think we have covered the important matters."
"Let us eat."
At once, the golden plates and goblets on the four long tables filled themselves with food and drink.
Douglas glanced at the students' tables and nodded in quiet satisfaction.
Professor Sprout smiled beside him.
"Even after you graduated, the school never stopped serving the dishes you introduced."
She looked pleased with herself.
"They're considered part of Hogwarts now. Some house-elves from old wizarding families have even been sent here to learn them."
As the two of them spoke, Douglas noticed that Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall, and Snape had all left the staff table at some point.
When Douglas opened his eyes again, the sky beyond the window was still dark.
It was five o'clock in the morning.
He climbed out of bed in loose pajamas, crossed the room, and settled himself in the Zen-style sitting area behind the wooden screen in his bedroom.
This was more than a habit formed over the years.
It was one of the reasons his control over magic surpassed that of many others.
Meditation.