Phoenix Tears

Chapter 20: By the pricking of my thumb

Harry was grateful that the room was focused on The Sorting as he fumbled around a bit at the bench, figuring out how to sit down without kicking the people on either side of him. He hoped so anyway. The table was very quiet compared to the room around them that buzzed with conversations... it was as if someone had cast a rippling silence spell on the Gryffindor table as they walked to their spots. He had already endured the inevitable hisses and jeers as they walked by the Slytherin table. Not loud enough to draw the teacher's attention, of course. Slytherin were noted for their slyness for a reason.

Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had been better, but still, the awkward silences indicated that people were staring at him. Harry hated that his warm neck and cheeks meant that his embarrassment at being the center of attention was so obvious. It was just adding insult to injury.

Hermione had led him to Ron's warm, sticky hand and then left and he didn't know where she was or who was sitting on the other side of him or across from him. He'd already put his staff away or he would have tapped it for the identification charm.

"Hiya, Ron," he said, leaning into Ron's shoulder, some of the embarrassment sloughing off as he found familiarity next to his friend.

"Took you long enough, mate. Where were you?" Ron whispered, returning the nudge.

"We had to wait for Auror Bones," Harry said, grudgingly.

Then the Sorting Hat made an incongruous throat-clearing noise and started singing, a different song than the one Harry remembered from his first year. In it, the hat said something strange that made Harry's solar plexus burn. The words were fleeting, but coiling inside him. He tried to hold onto them. What did they mean?

"In this chase, will they ever be caught?

Is the pursuit of freedom all they've sought?

Through the darkness, they navigate alone.

But with each step forward, their strength has grown."

Why did it seem like the Sorting Hat was talking directly to him? He remembered what Ginny told him about her experience with the Sorting Hat in the Chamber of Secrets. He wondered briefly if everyone heard a different song.

Momentarily he had forgotten that Nio was in his hands under the table until the feeling of Nio's smooth scales sliding over and through his fingers brought him back to his body. The song was over and Professor McGonagall had started calling out the names of first years. No one else seemed much fussed over the Hat's song. He wished he could remember more than just that one part that seemed seared into his brain. What had the rest been about?

The hat had started shouting out House names and the cheering from the reciprocal tables drowned out any other clues about who was being sorted where. Harry couldn't follow along. Sometimes a new Gryffindor student arriving at the bench was accompanied by a jostling and a rocking as people around Harry made room for the first year. Their squeaky voices made Harry wonder if he'd ever been so young and guileless.

"How many more first years are waiting to be sorted? Where's Gemma?" Harry asked Ron.

But it turned out that Harry didn't need anyone to tell him when it was Gemma's turn for sorting. He heard Professor McGonagall call her name and then a hush settled on the large room and then whispering murmurs... some were close enough for Harry to hear and he hoped that Gemma just kept her eyes on the hat and didn't look around to the staring faces because what they were muttering wasn't kind.
"Oh, Merlin! What happened to her?" "Who is she?" "Can't anyone do something about those scars?"

Harry tried to direct quelling looks at the people near him but he had no way of knowing if he made eye contact. Some of the murmurs stopped abruptly... so maybe he had.