There but for Sorting

'There But for Sorting . . .'

Oh, can't you just see them, in their Gryffindor common room; sitting by a window, no doubt . . .

I can almost hear the two of them, heads together, discussing me . . .

'He's even worse by himself than in a classroom half full of Slytherins. I'm glad you went with me, Colin. 'D you see how he looked at me? He's got eyes like a basilisk.'

'Basilisks have yellow eyes, Dennis.'

'I thought he was gonna curse me.'

'He couldn't curse you when it was Dumbledore who sent you down there to him with the Pensieve.'

'He'll probably fail me, then. He was marking exam papers . . .'

'He'd probably like to fail us both. He hates Gryffindors.'

Full marks, Creevey Primus. Yes. I hate Gryffindors. And yet I wonder . . . have you ever wondered why I hate Gryffindors? Perhaps I ought to have a word with Binns about you. Have you ever asked him about this particular chapter in the history of magic? Have any of the little dunderheads, I wonder?

It isn't my job to teach them. Not my subject, History of Magic. Oh, no. I'm only the Potions master. And as a Head of House I'm not permitted to teach even the Slytherins Defence Against the sort of Dark Arts practiced by certain Gryffindors in what to these young nogtails would be ancient history.

Oh, but what couldn't I tell them of dark creatures--of werewolves, and unregistered Animagi; of how a certain Black dog tried to send me to my death.

And still some students are proud to be in Gryffindor House!

And there but for sorting go the best pure-bloods each year.

Hmm. I wonder if Gryffindors sing that song in their common room nowadays. Surely they can't all sing as well as that one did. 'Can't carry a tune in a cauldron' never applied to him. 'There but for sorting go I,' he used to sing at me. Sing and sneer.

But how right he was! Scion of one of the oldest and darkest wizarding families. Blood as pure as that of Salazar himself. As pure as . . . Slytherin forgive me . . . as pure as the blood of all those Weasleys. . . . This one I don't need to give an O. She won't ever need to sit N.E.W.T.s. No, she'll marry some Chaser or Beater and have seven kids . . .

Hmm. Perhaps I ought to give her an O after all. Do my bit to stop that possibility from ever becoming probable. All Hogwarts needs is another generation of red-headed half-Weasley Gryffindors.

'There but for sorting . . .'

How did Black get sorted into Gryffindor and not Slytherin? What might he have become, given proper instruction in the Dark Arts with seven years' study in the right sort of environment for a young pure-blood? A kid who could put one over on Albus Dumbledore; fly anything that had wings--or had none; defeat duelling champions twice his age . . .

He might even have become a Death Eater.

If he had become one, he might not be dead now.

Where's it all got you, eh? All your history, at the end of the day? Your blood, your record; Dumbledore trusting you, sorting you out, giving you a second chance? Hmm?

How would you react to the Creevey brothers, Sirius? Could you sort them out? Moronic young Gryffindors . . .

Would you tell them of the times people mistook us for brothers? 'Same black hair,' you knew they were thinking . . . 'pity one got all the looks and the charm.'

Got twelve years in prison as well, didn't you? But it isn't Azkaban that makes eyes cold and empty. Oh, no--that's what ten years of safety and security can do for a man. Oh, yes--I know all about being kept safe by Dumbledore. Pity no one can tell the Creeveys of the world why I stay at school every Christmas, every Easter, every summer . . .

Until last summer, of course.

You'd tell them, wouldn't you?

And they'd tell all the other Gryffindors.

Can't you just hear them in their common room now?

'Someone Snape knew, I reckon.' 'It can't have been one of our House.' 'Must've been an Old Slytherin.' 'Probably got him thinking he's getting old himself and's gonna die one day.' 'And wondering who'd cry for him.'

Basilisk eyes, eh, Creevey Secundus?

Those two wouldn't have lasted a week in Slytherin.

And there but for sorting . . .