The sorting of Newt Scamander took nearly an hour. It was the longest sorting since Albus Dumbledore. Newt sat miserably on the hard stool in the centre of the Great Hall, painfully aware of hundreds of eyes on him. Fortunately, he couldn't see the eyes because the sorting hat was so large on him it covered nearly all off his face. All he could do was stare at the water slowly pooling beneath his seat as his drenched robes dripped on the floor. He clutched Felix tightly, whispering, "It will all be over soon. When I'm sorted we can sit by the fire and dry out."

Felix hissed irritably and rubbed his sodden fur on Newt's robes.

The students were getting impatient. The expectant silence had rolled into the shuffling and muttering of people waiting for a late train.

"It's broken," Newt heard. Then another voice: "He doesn't have a house." Another: "They should just send him home."

Newt curled in on himself, hunching protectively over Felix, as the voice continues. "Did you hear what he did to our boat? That filthy cat attacked me and capsized the boat. He should be thrown out. Him and that ugly beast!"

Felix bristled and hissed, though whether he was offended at being called ugly or being referred to as a cat, Newt wasn't sure. Newt stroked him soothingly. "Remember, we need to pretend here," he reminded Felix gently, "First years are only allowed a cat or an owl or a toad. We don't want to be sent home." Well, not until after they've seen the unicorns in the forest. He didn't know why everyone had been so surprised when Felix panicked. He'd told them Felix was frightened. He'd said Felix wanted to go in the carriage. Felix hated water. He'd told them that. If that boy just hadn't flailed about like that, he could have calmed Felix down and everything would have been fine.

"Interesting…" The sorting hat muttered in his ear, making him start in fright. He'd almost forgotten it was reading his mind. "Interesting. A most unusual mind. Clever, yes, very clever. Extremely clever. A twisty sort of clever. Everything's sideways in here."

Newt closed his eyes and shook his head, trying to stop the hat seeing inside him. It made him feel vulnerable and threatened, knowing something was probing around in his head. There were things inside he didn't want anybody to see.

"Single minded focus…" the hat muttered, "Seldom do I see someone so thoroughly concentrated on one aspect of life…"

Newt tried hard to make his mind blank. He didn't like the hat. It was invasive, reaching into his mind and using what he found to judge him, to twist him into a category where he would never quite fit. He would never quite fit, because he never quite fit anywhere. He shivered. It was cold in the great hall.

"You could go places in Ravenclaw. Wit beyond measure… and an unusual type of wit… imagine the possibilities… research… new developments… change…"

It was hard to ignore the hat whispering in his ear. He wasn't at all sure he wanted to be in Ravenclaw, where all that mattered was how clever you were. He wasn't sure he wanted to be sorted at all. Surely it was more important to be kind? But it didn't seem to be very important to be kind at this school. Certainly, nobody had been kind so far. They hadn't even let him take Felix over to the fire to dry out. And all those people on the train had been so unkind to that girl in his compartment.

"Curious, very curious," muttered the hat. "You don't like the idea of Ravenclaw. What a pity. Well, Ravenclaw isn't the only house that you could do well in. There's a certain cunning in here. A disregard for rules. A bit arrogant isn't it, to think you know better than the older, wiser wizards who created them."

Chinese Fireball, Newt thought desperately, bright red in colouring, forest dwelling, solitary, natural life expectancy up to five hundred years. Once common throughout the far east, now rarely seen as a result of hunting by wizards. Don't let it read your mind. Don't let it see inside. Common Welsh Green – now rare as a result of weaponisation in the 15th century, in addition to increased use of both dragon heartstring in wand-making and dragon blood in potions.

"That's not a cat, is it?" the hat asked, "A willingness to lie to achieve your ends… The great Salazar Slytherin would appreciate that."

Newt's heart fluttered. He really might be sent home if anyone found out. Felix certainly would be. Or killed. Wizards liked killing things they didn't understand. Things they'd decided were dangerous without properly studying them. At the very least Felix would be released into the wild, and he wouldn't survive. He'd never lived in the wild. Newt had found Felix beside the dead body of his mother when he was very young and had rescued him.

"Don't worry," said the hat, "I'm not here to enforce the rules. I just use your attitude towards them to help me choose your house."

Newt let out a breath and stroked Felix reassuringly. Felix had picked up his worry and tensed up, extending his claws so they dug into Newt's legs. Newt hunched over and kept stroking until he felt them retract.

The noise in the hall was increasing. People had started talking amongst themselves. "Hurry up!" someone called, "We're hungry! Can't we just start the feast?"

Newt's stomach growled. Felix growled back.

"Yes, you could do well in Slytherin too," the sorting hat informed him, "there's ambition in here. Slytherin could teach you how to make people listen. Not to mention the great deal you could learn of the subject of serpents. Of the Founders, Slytherin was always the most accepting of the more… interesting… creatures of the world."

NO! Thought Newt, NO NO NO NO NO! Slytherin may have been the most interested in creatures, but the reasons he had been interested in them, the things he was interested in using them for, were horrible. Not to mention the very backwards attitude of most of Slytherin house towards Muggles. From the little contact he'd had with muggles he couldn't see any reason to hate them, or even to fear them. Newt had talked to a muggle boy once, when they had been on holiday on the coast. They had spent a whole morning searching the tidal caves for interesting creatures and smugglers. They hadn't found any, but it had been one of the most enjoyable days of Newt's life. It had been fun to have a friend, even if he'd had to leave the next day.

"Not Slytherin, eh? Well, how about Gryffindor? We're still three first-years short in Gryffindor. Daring, nerve and chivalry. You've got all three of those traits to be sure. You're certainly showing nerve to bring that pet of yours here. Oh, and you're just aching to get out into the forest, aren't you? It's forbidden for a reason, you know."

The rules are wrong, Newt thought, Felix isn't dangerous. Not if handled correctly.

"Oh, that is interesting," murmured the hat, before falling silent for a worryingly long time. Newt huffed a sigh and shifted on his seat. It really was getting very uncomfortable now. Not quite as uncomfortable as the time he had waited all day in the snow because Theseus had convinced him there was a yeti in the woods behind the hippogriff fields, but it was getting close. He was really very cold. He stood up, peeking out of the rip that served as the sorting hat's mouth, shifted Felix to drape over his shoulder, and picked up the stool.

"Young man, sit down!" barked one of the teachers sternly. Newt couldn't see who it was (the view through the mouth-rip was very limited), but it soun

ded a lot like the extremely fearsome Professor who had threatened to expel him after learning about the boat incident.

Newt wanted to explain that he was cold and Felix was cold and they needed to be nearer the fire, but the words wouldn't come out. Sometimes they didn't when he was nervous. He shuffled over to the fire and sat back down on the stool.

"Oh yes, Gryffindor would welcome you with open arms. I can see you're willing to make a stand. Won't be doing anything you don't agree with, will you? And there's almost a thirst for danger in here. If something's interesting enough, well you could face just about anything, I think."

Theseus was in Gryffindor. He didn't think he was much like Theseus. A series of memories flashed through his head. Theseus bowing graciously to that very regal friend of Father's, confidently making clever and witty conversation while Newt jabbered and mumbled and stared at his shoes. Theseus stepping in front of that muggle-born girl those nasty Slytherin boys had been jinxing in Diagon Alley, while Newt dithered and tried not to cry. Theseus tying a rope around his waist and diving into the lake after Newt had fallen through the ice on his Yeti-search. On the Hogwarts Express, Theseus making it clear that anyone bullying Newt would answer to him, as Newt had turned red and buried his face in Felix's fur. No, he wasn't the same as Theseus. He liked a certain amount of excitement. Life would be terribly dull if you didn't do anything that grown-ups called dangerous. But he wasn't brave with people. He might quietly disagree with them, but he didn't like to fight. He wouldn't be good in a duel, for instance. He hadn't even been able to jinx those boys who had been teasing him on the train. Theseus had taught him the Jelly-legs jinx for just such an occasion, and he hadn't been able to do it. His insides had curled into a frightened little ball, and Theseus had had to save him again.

"Hmmm," said the sorting hat, "There's more than one type of bravery, you know. Not all courage is showy. It takes courage to be different. It's brave to discard convention."

But Newt wasn't different on purpose. He just didn't know how to behave like other people. He just couldn't understand the reasons people thought the things they did, or followed the social patterns they did. It wasn't brave to not do something just because you didn't know how.

"I disagree," stated the sorting hat, "but there's plenty of Hufflepuff in here too."

Theseus called Hufflepuff 'the leftover house'. It was the house that took all the people who weren't clever or brave or ambitious. People said Hufflepuffs were dull. That they were depressingly average. No great advancements were made by Hufflepuffs. No great heroes came from the house. Hufflepuffs never won anything. There was no honour or glory in being a Hufflepuff.

Newt thought that was rather nice. It would, perhaps, be better if all the houses were so accepting of everyone. It would certainly reduce the unpleasant rivalry between the houses if each one had some people who were clever, some who were brave, some who were ambitious, and some whose personalities didn't fit into any of those categories.

"Hufflepuff is a house to be proud of," the sorting hat told him, "Hufflepuffs are loyal. Hufflepuffs are kind. Hufflepuffs are gentle and caring and accepting. Equality is key. Yes, yes, the more I consider it, the more I see it in you. A caring soul. There's empathy in here, not just for beasts, but for people too. Witches and wizards, muggle-borns and muggles alike."

Newt's mother called him kind-hearted. His father called him soft.

"You could show people that Hufflepuffs don't have to be ordinary. Hufflepuffs can be clever and brave and ambitious as well as being kind. Being a good person is just as important as any other trait."

Newt's grandmother called him sweet. His grandfather (and most other people) said he was odd.

He thought he'd quite like to be a Hufflepuff, actually. It would be nice to be in a house where when someone called you one of those things it was a compliment. Yes, he'd be proud to be a Hufflepuff. "What do you think, Felix?" He whispered. Felix looked back at him and nodded.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" roared the sorting hat.

Newt lifted the hat from his head, placed it on the stool, and scuttled quickly and nervously to join the very end of the Hufflepuff table. By the time he'd made it to the far end of the table, the final two students had already been sorted and the feast could begin at last.