The Sorting Hat Knew Me Well

The sorting hat knew me well. I had a pet Basilisk and knew where they all dwell. I speak parcel tongue, but I do not like Malfoy I am waiting, barely breathing. The sorting hat is making all kinds of noise, like a raid Spitting and snorting, I close my eyes, afraid of the result You hate Malfoy? He screams, outing me in front of the hall. Hufflepuff? Are you kidding? That was truly a stupid call. Come back here! The sorting hat demanded, angry now. I ran for my life, not eager to go back to that cow. He chases through the hall while the rest of them cheer. I go home to mama; maybe I will come back next year.