The Sorting Ceremony (Revised)

The boats soon carried the first-years to the opposite shore of the lake. Led by Hagrid, they made their way to the front of Hogwarts Castle.

The school's deputy headmistress, Professor McGonagall, was waiting there. She led them into a small, empty room, said a few brief words, and then left.

The first-years began whispering among themselves, discussing how the Sorting would work.

The students had already learned about the four Houses at home or on the train. They knew what each one was like and had already set their hearts on one.

So they didn't want to end up in a House they had no interest in just because of some school policy.

Unfortunately, none of the explanations they'd heard about the Sorting matched. It seemed that everyone who had already been sorted had deliberately kept the real method from the first-years.

Ron had been following Harley ever since they got off the train. Now he asked her, "Harley, which House do you want to be in?"

"Any of them. It's not up to us, anyway. The school decides where we go." Harley was resting with her eyes closed. She answered casually without even opening them.

Harley didn't care which House she ended up in. According to Hogwarts: A History, the four Houses differed only in where the students lived and the order in which they took their classes. The subject matter was the same.

It wasn't like the Northern Continent, where choosing a different church meant taking a different Pathway. So Harley didn't give it much thought.

If she had to guess which House she might end up in, she'd say Slytherin, based on the school's mascots. After all, a Demoness's Mythical Creature Form was that of a beautiful woman with snakes for hair.

Besides, she seemed to fit Slytherin's cunning and ambition, and she wasn't short on guile. Slytherin wouldn't turn its nose up at Dark Magic, either. In every way, it seemed like a good fit.

But the qualities valued by Gryffindor seemed to suit her, too. After all, that House prized courage above all.

Harley had once defected from the Demoness Sect, a sect devoted to the evil god Primordial Demoness.

When she thought about it, the courage it had taken to flee such a sect seemed almost unbelievable. It was definitely something to be proud of.

Of course, Ravenclaw was also a possibility. Harley loved the occult, perhaps even more than many Mystery Priers.

Only Hufflepuff... The Demoness Pathway, centered on affliction and despair, didn't seem to have anything in common with Hufflepuff's honest, steadfast nature.

Harley stopped daydreaming and went back to resting with her eyes closed. Whatever House she ended up in, it couldn't be worse than "starting out in the Demoness Sect" or "becoming immortal, then running into Amon," could it?

Of course, there was an even worse possibility, but Harley didn't let herself think about it.

Quite some time passed before Professor McGonagall hurried into the room.

"Sorry, everyone," Professor McGonagall said.

"There was a bit of a mishap. The school's staircases suddenly changed direction, so it took me a while to get the Sorting Hat.

Quickly, line up in single file and follow me."

Professor McGonagall led the first-years into the Great Hall. Thousands of candles floated overhead, and stars twinkled across the ceiling.

The first-years lined up in front of a four-legged stool. A pointed wizard's hat sat on top of it.

The hat suddenly began to sing, though its singing was truly awful. The last time Harley had heard singing that bad was from an Ocean Songster of the Tyrant Pathway, who seemed to belong to the Church of Storms.

Harley had claimed the irritable fellow as her first trophy after advancing to Sequence 4, then sold him for a good price to the captain of a blue-haired Ghost Ship.

Once the hat had finished singing, the first-years finally understood that they only had to put it on to be sorted.

Many of them gritted their teeth and swore they'd make their older brothers and sisters pay when they got home for tricking them.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a roll of parchment. "When I call your name, put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted."

Then Professor McGonagall called the first name:

"Hannah Abbott!"

The Sorting continued, and the number of first-years dwindled. Few of them caught Harley's attention. Malfoy might have counted, if only just.

The Malfoy Harley had affected with Suggestion, along with his two cronies, all went to Slytherin. Harley found that amusing.

Did Slytherin not care about brains when recruiting? Those three didn't seem very bright, which hardly fit Slytherin's supposed cunning.

Then again, perhaps the platinum-haired Malfoy in the middle had only acted foolishly because of the way he'd been raised. Harley had seen plenty of cases like that.

At last, Professor McGonagall called Harley's name.

"Harley Potter!"

The Great Hall erupted in whispers, and every eye turned toward Harley.

But Harley noticed only three gazes, the only ones that stirred her Spirituality's premonitions.

Harley ignored them, shutting out the noise as she sized up the grubby hat.

"So dirty," Harley murmured. Then she gritted her teeth and put it on. Letting it touch her lovely black hair was pure torture.

"I'm not dirty," a tiny voice said. "I'm the cleanest hat in the world!"

A Sealed Artifact from the Spectator Pathway? The thought had barely crossed Harley's mind before she pushed it aside.

When dealing with a Mystical Item that might be able to read minds, the best thing to do was empty her mind. If she didn't think about anything, its mind-reading wouldn't work!

"Mind-reading?" the tiny voice continued. "No, I can't do that. Gryffindor never enchanted me with Legilimency.

"I can only sense superficial thoughts. Well, Miss Harley, we've spent quite enough time on irrelevant things. Let's see where you belong..."

Harley immediately emptied her mind, focusing her Spirituality to conceal the thoughts of murder and destruction in her head.

"Cunning, devious, perfect for Slytherin," the hat murmured. "But you're also very brave and clever, and you love reading. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw would both suit you..."

"So where should I go?" Harley asked at just the right moment.

That way, the hat wouldn't feel as if it were talking to itself, and might be more interested in carrying on.

"I'd quite like to let you choose for yourself, but I can't. It's my duty, after all.

"That's it." The Sorting Hat muttered to itself inside Harley's head.

"Gryffindor!"

The last word rang out from the Sorting Hat, and thunderous applause broke out at the Gryffindor table.

Two boys leaped up and cheered, tossing something into the air, though Harley didn't notice.

She rose gracefully and handed the hat back to Professor McGonagall. A thin black flame flared across her hair, burning away every speck of dust the hat had left behind.

As Harley walked toward the Gryffindor table, her thoughts were elsewhere. Several gazes nearby had caught her attention.

Harley sat at the very front of the Gryffindor table. After exchanging a few polite words with those around her, she looked toward the High Table.

An old man with white hair was applauding her, gazing at her kindly.

His was one of the three gazes Harley had sensed earlier. After all, it came from a demigod. The Demoness Pathway granted fairly strong Spirituality, so Harley couldn't have failed to notice it.