Chapter 44: 1st September 1991, Sunday: Part 7

The students followed McGonagall to a pair of enormous and finely-decorated double doors. George got a sense of déjà vu gazing upon the entrance to the Great Hall, it brought him back to Gringotts bank. The incredible enchantments were oddly similar and yet different in equally impressive ways. The bank gate's enchantments were perfectly arranged like magical glowing tweed, whereas these doors were more wild and erratic like Van Gogh's Starry Night. It was hard to say which was more powerful, George was more inclined to say the Goblins won this round by a hair margin.

Silently and without McGonagall's prompting, the arched doors opened by themselves. The sight of the Great Hall in all its splendour was utterly breathtaking. George had seen this image a thousand times in his head, but his memories paled in comparison to the real thing. For one, the presence of hundreds of teenagers all looking at the first years was palpable. All the students appeared to be of different ages ranging between twelve and eighteen, they were all wearing their stupid ceremonial black pointy hats. Never had George had so much attention directed at him at once, it was a little intimidating.

All the first-years huddled together upon seeing their large audience, clearly George wasn't the only one feeling the pressure. They hesitatingly followed McGonagall down the middle of the hall, whilst brushing past the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. Everyone's heads were on a constant swivel as they absorbed the room's majesty. George was witnessing a whole other level of extraordinary, any other person would assume their sweets on the train were laced with LSD if they could see through his eyes. From the paved ground to the night sky ceiling, literally everything was enchanted. Even the air itself was enchanted, he was physically breathing the iridescent waves in and out. If this hall was laden with any more bewitchments, he would be able to feel the magic.

It all worked in George's favour since his genuine mesmerised expression blended in perfectly with his fellow students, no acting was required. The other first years were quite distracted, most of them appeared to be very overwhelmed. Some of them were looking at their senior students or staring up at the bewitched ceiling and the floating candles illuminating it. Hermione had made her way towards the front of the pack and was currently looking very smug. The shame from earlier must have been replaced by the joy of knowing information that others weren't privy to.

She spoke aloud to no one in particular, "it's not real, the ceiling. It's just bewitched to look like the night sky. I read about it in 'Hogwarts: A History'."

George felt proud of his self-control compared to Hermione, he had never felt the need to show off so blatantly when there is no practical benefit. Although, today wasn't so easy to deal with his ego. He felt... strange, and it wasn't just due to the vast amount of magical radiation around him. It was almost like he was drunk or perhaps poisoned. Going to Hogwarts had been dominating his mind for the past year, so stress could be a cause, but he doubted that could be the sole reason. Regardless of his state of mind, he was about to face his greatest challenge yet. His next actions needed to be performed with surgical precision.

The children kept walking until they reached the slightly raised platform separating the house's tables from the teachers. At the end of the houses' tables were empty seats to make room for the new students.

McGonagall turned around and said, "can you wait along here, please", while gesturing at the open space in front of the tables.

All the new students funnelled into the gap and eagerly waited for her next command, George made sure to keep himself at the back. Just beside McGonagall was a stool with an old wizard hat placed upon it, the sorting hat was located where the headmaster's podium would normally be. Behind the hat was a horseshoe-shaped table with all of Hogwarts' members of staff currently seated around it. Oddly enough, George recognised only around half of the twenty professors. They must be the staff who teach the less significant lessons such as the electives which weren't relevant to him.

Of course, George's main focus was on the headmaster of Hogwarts, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Try saying that three times fast. The man of the hour was seated on his golden throne right in the middle of the professor's table. His formidable presence was so suffocating that George felt the need to adjust his collar. Dumbledore's eyes, along with all the other teachers, were staring at the first years like wolfs picking out the weak from a herd of sheep. George tried desperately to not look in that man's direction. The last thing he wanted was to lock eyes with Dumbledore, even for a second.

Although he knew that Voldemort was currently in the same room as him, George could hardly care about that half-dead parasite compared to the bearded monster sitting a few seats away. If anyone was going to discover the truth behind George's plans, it was Dumbledore.

McGonagall addressed the new students, "now, before we begin. Professor Dumbledore would like to say a few words."

The scary man stood up from his chair after his introduction. Dumbledore was wearing a beautiful purple robe with a matching pointed hat, and yes, every fibre of cloth on that man was glowing bright with pulsating light. The enchantments were so strong that George almost had to squint his eyes to look vaguely in that direction. Even the reading glasses on the bridge of Dumbledore's nose were highly enchanted, hopefully they didn't have some sort of magical x-ray feature. Dumbledore's expression remained warm but unreadable as he addressed the students.

"I have a few start-of-term notices I wish to announce. The first-years please note that the Dark Forest is strictly forbidden to all students", he spoke in a calm voice.

George was not surprised to hear the nonsense already coming out of Dumbledore's mouth.

He scoffed internally, "of course, the Dark Forest is prohibited, yet it will be a punishment for a certain trio to enter the forest later this year. What a hypocrite"

In hindsight, George could easily see through Dumbledore's scheming. It could not be a coincidence that Harry will happen to come across his arch-enemy in that forest. George wouldn't be surprised if Dumbledore didn't already suspect Quirrell for harbouring Voldemort at this very moment.

Dumbledore continued after a brief pause to emphasise his point, "also our caretaker, Mr Filch, has asked me to remind you that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death. Thank you."

George was tempted to have started clapping at such a magnificent speech, never had so much hypocrisy been condensed into a mere few sentences. Oh really, Filch doesn't want children loitering around the third floor for some unknown reason, how convenient for you Headmaster? It's not like you're using the Hogwarts castle to safeguard your extremely old friend's immortality rock, without properly warning the very students you're meant to be protecting. Just the amount of needless danger he's putting the whole school through, it's beyond insulting. Dumbledore is so lucky that no one will die because of his selfishness. Maybe don't hide a valuable artefact behind a wall of innocent children next time, you colossal arsehole.

George had to once again hold back the impulse to act up, his anger was starting to get the better of him. Yes, Dumbledore was a terrible human being, but that didn't justify risking the mission. George had to crush this burning hatred a little longer, and later tonight he could work out what the hell was wrong with him.

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McGonagall picked up the old hat and started the Sorting Ceremony, "when I call your name, you will come forth. I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses."

McGonagall then began reading from a scroll in her opposite hand, "Hermione Granger."

That's got to hurt, going first was never fun. For all the first years knew, that hat might... come alive and start reading their minds. Pretty spooky stuff. George saw that Hermione was talking to herself as she walked toward McGonagall. Her boldness appeared to be struggling to overcome her apprehension.

George overheard Ron whispering to Harry, "that's the girl from the train. She's not right in the head, I'm tellin' ya."

George almost felt like complimenting Ron on his attitude. As long as he kept that mockery up, then everything should proceed swimmingly. The hat was placed on top of Hermione's head, and it immediately sprung to life. The folds in the leather hat formed eyes and a mouth. The hat seemed to be having some difficulty deciding which house to put Hermione in. George guessed that the hat was debating over putting Hermione into Ravenclaw or Gryffindor. He assumed that Hermione's bold attitude is what separates her from the majority of academics found in Ravenclaw. Most members of Ravenclaw appeared to be, what George considered, cliche nerds.

After a bit of murmuring, the hat declared, "right... okay... GRIFFINDOR!"

The hat said what George already knew was coming, and Hermione was put in the 'good' house. The entire Gryffindor table burst into cheers at the hat's choice as Hermione walked over to the end of the table and sat down. Draco was the next student to be evaluated, and the hat didn't even touch his head before it announced Slytherin. George was well aware that a lot of the hat's choices were already made well before the students had arrived at Hogwarts. There was no way that Lucius Malfoy would ever allow Draco to enter any house besides Slytherin.

Susan Bones was next up on the chopping block, but George was only paying attention to Harry. The boy who lived was holding his head like he had a headache whilst looking in Snape's direction. The potion master was also doing a terrible job of not looking suspicious, Harry was destined to make assumptions. George had no plan of interfering with this misconception as exposing any truths would only interfere with the mission. He wouldn't benefit from outing Quirrell or exonerating Snape and therefore would keep the truth to himself until the school year ended.

The hat kept on going through person after person including Ron, Harry and Neville, who all went into Gryffindor until there was only one person left. George felt like ripping his hair out as he wondered why he had to be the last one, now literally everyone was staring in his direction. He could only pray to whatever god existed that the hat would not do anything that might draw attention to him. George was hoping that his nervous expression seemed natural as he walked up to the hat, the next minute could change his entire life. McGonagall lowered the hat onto his head, but to his surprise, nothing happened.

The hat wasn't doing anything, it didn't start murmuring about where to put him or declaring a house for him to enter. It was then that George could feel his mind being infiltrated, the hat was trying to read his thoughts. This was a real and deliberate attack, unlike Diagon Alley and Remus from a month ago. It was substantial but not quite at the level of power his patron possessed. George learnt many things from his patron before joining the Linwood family, one such technique was Occlumency.

Occlumency was the practice of defending one's mind from others, and he had spent years mastering it. George considered it a side effect of having a wizard meddling with his mind since he was a baby. Perhaps the only thing his patron had ever deliberately taught him was a technique to create a false mind that a mental attacker would confuse for the real one. This infiltration mission needed George to appear as an ordinary eleven-year-old boy. That facade needed to be maintained even if anyone came snooping around in his head. So his patron had provided him with the means to blend in.

The hat, however, seemed to be looking past the facade and had its heart set on finding the genuine article. It must have seen so many children's minds that it had deduced the false mind's fraudulence. George knew that the hat had been created by the founders of Hogwarts. They were all exceptional wizards and witches he could never compare to in his current state. There was a good chance the hat would see past his tricks, and yet he wasn't worried about it. Years ago, the hat looked into Tom Riddle's depraved mind and didn't say a single thing to Dumbledore. Therefore, it shouldn't treat George any differently.

It was the hat's current reaction that worried George. His fake mind wasn't something he could just turn off and on, it had been something he'd developed over two years, and it had become a part of his soul. George presumed the hat had become initially silent because of the resistance his false mind had put up. It took nearly a minute for the hat to eventually enter his real mind. But to George's horror, the hat still remained silent. This was not part of the plan, the hat should have put him into a house as soon as it entered his real memories. Why wasn't it saying anything?!

Cold sweat began dripping down George's back. He could feel the eyes of the teachers burning a hole in the back of his head. The hat only had to say one word, just one measly little word. George didn't care which house it declared at this point, but the stupid hat needed to make up its mind already. McGonagall looked a bit alarmed as she lifted the hat off George's head and placed it back on again. Perhaps magical objects had the same fixing techniques you would apply to a computer. Regardless, the hat remained silent, George could feel his composure falling apart all over again.

His emotions were beginning to run rampant which consequently caused his judgement to become impaired. In one last-ditch effort to force the sorting hat's decision, he screamed a message inside of his head with the most powerful Legilimency attack he could muster.

"MAKE UP YOUR BLOODY MIND ALREADY, OR I'LL BURN YOU TO OBLIVION!"

George could feel the hat jolt from on top of his head. The message seemed to have gotten through.

The hat stuttered as it declared, "Sss Sly SLYTHERIN!"

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