Professor McGonagall betrayed no hint of favoritism, calmly placing the Sorting Hat upon Harry's head, just as she had done for every student before him.
"Hmm... hmm... brave, yes, Gryffindor would suit, but Slytherin promises greater glory..." The Sorting Hat muttered to itself, "Which path shall I choose for this child?"
"Slytherin, Slytherin, Slytherin..." Harry, ignoring the Hat's deliberations, silently chanted his desired house, focusing all his will.
"..." The Sorting Hat fell silent, its internal struggle evident. What could it do when the boy's heart was so set?
Dumbledore, watching intently, thought, This simply will not do; Gryffindor is where he must be. And so, with subtle magic, he nudged the Hat's impending "Slytherin" towards a different outcome.
"Gryffindor!"
The instant the Hat spoke, Severus Snape erupted. "Dumbledore, you old fool! You completely disregard the boy's wishes! I heard him! He wants Slytherin!" Snape, wand drawn, pointed it accusingly at Dumbledore. "Lily should have been in Slytherin! Just like this brat. How dare you ignore him?"
Today, either he restores Lily's eyes in his image, or he exposes Dumbledore's duplicity.
"Severus, please, calm yourself," Dumbledore attempted to reason, but Snape was beyond reason. His face, contorted in rage, resembled nothing so much as a gargoyle carved from coal.
"Enough, enough, this is absurd." An unexpected voice cut through the tension. Tom Riddle tapped his fingers lightly upon the table, drawing the eyes of both Dumbledore and Snape. "How about this? A compromise. Harry earns points for Slytherin and Gryffindor. A solution that satisfies both parties, wouldn't you agree?"
"..." Is that even remotely reasonable? Dumbledore's brow furrowed in disbelief. Were he not outmatched by Tom Riddle, he would certainly have challenged him then and there.
Seeing Dumbledore's helpless expression, Tom Riddle found himself amused. Wouldn't you explode if I didn't apply logic? Tom Riddle drew the Elder Wand and called out, "Severus!"
At Tom Riddle's command, Snape visibly shivered, feigning composure as he turned to face him.
Tom Riddle, under the watchful eyes of the hall, strode toward Dumbledore. Ignoring the Headmaster's protests, he seized the old wizard by his beard and began to drag him from the hall.
Snape watched, his expression a mixture of shock and morbid curiosity, before the thought of Lily's eyes returned to him, and he followed Tom Riddle.
Not long after, the hall was filled with a series of increasingly frantic cries.
"What are you doing?! I am the Headmaster! Oh no!!!"
"I warn you! You'll regret this!"
"Die! Die! Die!!!"
The students exchanged uneasy glances, the lofty image of the "greatest wizard" crumbling before their ears.
"Should we... perhaps intervene, and assist Albus?" Professor McGonagall leaned toward Professor Flitwick, whispering urgently.
Flitwick merely shook his head. "Professor Dumbledore is not in danger, Minerva; they are merely...exchanging ideas, I presume."
"..."
Quirinus Quirrell, his face hidden as always, thought, That volatile, unreasonable behavior…it is indeed familiar. Then Quirrell whimpered softly in dread.
After what felt like an eternity, Tom Riddle, Snape, and a disheveled Dumbledore returned to the hall. Tom Riddle resumed his seat, looking refreshed and invigorated.
Snape approached Professor McGonagall, who retreated, allowing Snape to address the hall. "Following our amicable discussion with Headmaster Dumbledore, we have reached a unanimous decision: Harry Potter will be sorted into…Slytherin!"
Bang!
"Whoa!" Malfoy slammed his hand on the table, leaping to his feet, applauding wildly. His over-the-top enthusiasm led many to wonder if he had finally lost his grip on reality. Spurred by Malfoy's outburst, the other Slytherin students belatedly remembered to applaud Harry as well.
"Potter is one of us!"
The Gryffindors offered little protest; Harry's reputation, after all, was somewhat tarnished. While it was hardly Harry's fault, it certainly wasn't Tom Riddle's. The blame clearly lies with the failure of the Avada Kedavra spell. If it had worked, no one would have known of Harry's exploits.
With the new students finally seated, Professor McGonagall gathered the Sorting Hat and stool, returning to the teachers' table.
Recognizing the students' hunger, Dumbledore, still visibly ruffled, muttered, "Incompetents! Wretches! Fools! Cowards!"
"What in the world did he just say?" Harry, his mind still reeling, turned to Malfoy. "Hey, Malfoy, do you understand what he's on about?"
"I haven't a clue!" Malfoy rolled his eyes. "My father says Dumbledore's been senile for years. Perhaps he's having a particularly bad episode?" Malfoy's voice was low, but for wizards of Tom Riddle and Dumbledore's caliber, even a whisper carried.
Dumbledore, looking grim, began to eat, as if each bite was a personal affront. Meanwhile, Harry and Malfoy debated whether Dumbledore was suffering from severe rheumatism or merely chronic leg pain when suddenly, a young wizard screamed.
A ghost, with a complete lack of decorum, had emerged directly from someone's plate.
"Wooooooo!"
With the appearance of the first ghost, more and more materialized, crowding the hall and dancing wildly in the air.
A large, jovial ghost hovered near the Hufflepuff table. "Hufflepuff…ah, I am from this house."
"Welcome to Hufflepuff! You may call me the Fat Friar."
Above the Gryffindor table, Peeves, a mischievous poltergeist, was performing acrobatics, using his own head as a prop.
"Peeves!" A senior student exclaimed in dismay as the poltergeist swooped through the hall, eyeing the young wizards with undisguised malice.
Before Peeves could cause any real trouble, a ghost wielding a long, bloodstained knife appeared.
"The Bloody Baron!"
Peeves, startled, nearly dislodged his own eyes, quickly snatching them as he fled through the nearest wall, abandoning the hall.
The Bloody Baron, seemingly unconcerned by Peeves's hasty exit, continued to drift aimlessly through the hall, his emotionless gaze sweeping over the students.
His eyes suddenly focused on the teachers' table, widening in shock.
"It's you..." The Bloody Baron stared intently at Tom Riddle.
Tom Riddle, who was calmly slicing a piece of steak to feed Nagini, looked up, his cold, serpentine eyes locking onto the Bloody Baron.