A/N — Written for the semi-finals of QL's season four — write something from the perspective of the Sorting Hat — with the optional prompts: [song] Part of Your World, [quote] My philosophy is that worrying means you suffer twice.", and [word] Scandal.

(So after much research, I have come to the conclusion that no one really knows for sure how the Hat works.)

Thanks to FF for beta'ing :)

Look at this trove, treasures untold

How many wonders can one cavern hold?

'Part of Your World' — The Little Mermaid

.oOo.

He could feel himself drifting, fading away. He felt at once both too great and too small, as though he'd been stretched far and wide but too thinly to hold together. And now, as he slipped away yet again …

In the blink of an eye, everything had changed. Someone else carried him to the stool, someone unfamiliar, and he had nothing prepared to welcome the students.

He was placed atop a boy's head. The boy shivered at his presence — not unsurprisingly — but the wand being waved above him, the slight green whips emitting from the tip, that was new.

Delving quickly into the boy's mind, he sought out something that might give him a clue: not a large family, but a lot of friends; changing schools often — slipping, falling back into himself …

"HUFFLEPUFF," he yelled before he could fade entirely. He felt himself pulling back together as though he had just needed something to focus on but … something wasn't quite right.

The Hall was silent, everyone staring. So quiet, that he could hear a whispered: "I thought the Hat'd given up." Then there was a rustle of activity, a sound as though everyone were leaning forward at once and then …

Nothing, not even darkness, just …

"Hello? Are — are you awake?" A girl's voice, though he wasn't sure why. "My — my brother said you're still … alive, I guess? That you Sorted a boy in his year? I was wondering … hoping, maybe you could …" she trailed off, worry clouding her mind. "No, it's stupid. My brother said I was a squib too, so he was probably —"

"Someone once told me that worrying means you suffer twice," he said, his voice slow even in the girl's mind. He felt her surprise, though somewhat distantly, her excitement much clearer but still a little clouded.

"You're here! And you — you — please." He tried to delve further into her mind, to catch a glimpse of what her future might hold, of the traits that would lead her there. But her thoughts weren't clear, he could only scratch the surface, and something was wrong. Panic filled him, dread and fear, and this time, he welcomed the nothingness.

.oOo.

He came to himself some time later, seated on his shelf in the office. Once again, everything was different. The head teacher's personal belongings all removed, five new portraits hung on the wall.

"He's back," a portrait said blandly, though the Hat wasn't sure which.

"Isn't there some way to re-do the spells?" another portrait asked, a man this time. "This new method of Sorting … it's not very … accurate."

"The spells are fading, I think," a third portrait said, and there was something familiar about her, though he couldn't quite place it. "He spoke to me when I was Sorted —"

"You were Sorted with that new spell," someone interrupted. "The last person to ever be Sorted properly was that boy — that famous Healer — but that was a long time ago now."

"If you'd let me finish!" the woman snapped, and he knew where he'd recognised her from, but that couldn't be right … could it? No. He shook himself, or at least tried to, but his movements were sluggish and barely more than what a gust of wind could cause. "He didn't Sort me. He couldn't. But maybe there's some way to —"

"Replace the spells?" the first portrait scoffed. "There isn't another even remotely like him. The Founders didn't record how they made him. It can't be —" Not wanting to hear more — not liking the way they made it sound like he was dying — he allowed himself to drift away, slowly, and then …

He was placed on another child's head. A symbolic gesture now, he knew, and of course he resented that fact.

The child, a girl, smaller than most and visibly shaking, a mantra running through her head: "This is happening, this is happening, this is happening." She contained much of the usual fear and trepidation he saw in the first years, but underneath it …

"SLYTHERIN!"

Underneath it … Muggle clothes, Muggle schools, Muggle friends, Muggleborn …

But he doesn't make mistakes, he can't, think of the scandal … no, there must have been a reason. What had he seen in her? He couldn't … he couldn't remember, and he was slipping away once more.

.oOo.

This time, things weren't just different, they were practically alien, and he couldn't work out what had brought him back to awareness. Everything was covered in a thick layer of dust, large sheets blocked the light from filtering through the window, and there was a thick pane of glass separating him from the rest of the room.

There was nothing for him here now, and he could barely keep track of his own thoughts. Would it really be so bad if he were to …

.oOo.

"How long do you think it will last?" a man asked. He blinked his eyes open, confusion colouring his thoughts. What was this? Everything was unfamiliar.

"I'm not sure," a woman replied. She was tall and slim with greying hair and peering down through pale eyes. "Long enough for us to find an alternate method," she said.

"Or for someone else to find one," a second woman added, shorter than the first, her face more open and kind.

"I still don't like it," the man said. "Drawing names from a hat … it seems … messy."

"It contains all of our magic, Salazar, you know this." The first woman spoke again. "Even Godric's. It is the best we can do for now."

"And if we cannot find a replacement," the second woman said, "then surely someone will be able to soon."

"It's only a temporary measure," the first woman added. "This kind of magic can't last for long."