The entire evening so far had been...well, terrifying, frankly. Ushered onto a train platform with a small trunk, his mother had seen him off - rather affectionately, much to his surprise. The odd half-hug had been more than she usually expressed, and it had helped. Getting on the train with the flocks of students had left him rather lost. Going to Hogwarts was such a mixed feeling - on one hand, he was looking forward to the learning, but on the other...would he actually get along with anyone?

And his glasses were broken, too. He'd fallen in the train hallway, and they'd tumbled off his face, the bridge snapping a bit. He wasn't sure what had happened exactly, but he'd apparently tripped over someone. That sounded about right to him, and he wasn't going to question it, or the apology he'd given automatically even before the girl had demanded one. It was easy for him to accept the blame and leave it at that.

He'd picked up his stricken glasses and scurried away, holing up in a compartment and hugging his knees. He'd said very little to the other student who entered, who'd seemed equally happy to ignore him. The other boy had had a book; Tapendra just had to stare out the window and wonder exactly where Hogwarts was.

The Great Hall, when they were finally ushered inside of it, was huge. That was really the first impression Tapendra got, as the gaggle of first years flowed around him and their momentum made him keep stumbling forward. The ceiling rose away from them into a vista of stars, the bright moon shimmering dear the vaulted ceiling. He hadn't seen anything like it before, and the urge to stop and stare at it temporarily over rode the pain from his nose.

What brought his gaze down in the end was the Hat's song, which just made him stare, wide-eyed. The sorting was underway almost before he knew it, and after the names began to get called he stood near the door, twisting the sleeve of his sweater nervously. The other students seem satisfied, so sure the choice was right. He would be happy in any of the Houses other than Slytherin, though. But what if he didn't fit into any? Would it tell him to get lost? Did it ever do that? It didn't, surely. They'd have mentioned it somewhere in the letter, right? Before they spent the money on school supplies and a wand. Even if his wand was bizarrely huge. Maybe he'd gotten the wrong one. None of the Ollivander ones had worked, anyway...maybe that was a sign.

The other students around him had family histories, he knew - especially the blonde girls. All of the blondes so far seemed to be expecting Slytherin. The girl who he'd run into and tripped over earlier caught his eye and smiled; he quickly blushed and looked away, his broken glasses almost coming off his head.

He didn't have that. He'd tried to think about what House he'd wind up in, come the Sorting, and had gotten utterly lost. His mother was hoping for Slytherin, he knew. That was...he didn't want to be in Slytherin. He knew enough about that house to fear its reputation and politely keep his distance from any of the students on the train who'd been wearing green. And he wasn't...he was pretty sure he wasn't cunning. Or ambitious. He'd have a job someday, he hoped, but that...didn't count as ambition. Did it?

After the long, quiet train ride he'd decided he was probably a Hufflepuff. They were the ones who didn't know, weren't they? The left overs who didn't quite fit anywhere else. That sounded about right to him. He wasn't brave or witty.

He'd look up occasionally, especially if there was a pause before the hat called out the person's name. The girl he'd tripped over got Slytherin, though her twisting expression suggested it wasn't a smooth choice. There seemed to be a lot of Ravenclaws so far...nervous, he went back to looking at the starry vista above them, watching the stars and trying to remember constellation names.

"Trishna, Tapendra!" He almost didn't register it, and when his name was called rather more sharply he literally jumped. He scrambled forward, blush spreading across his features as he grabbed the hat, hearing the snickers from the crowd. It was as he sat on the stool that he realized most of the hall was looking at him, expectation and curiosity on their faces, some of them still snickering. He wondered, as his eyes went wide with a kind of fluttery terror, if he could pull the hat down over his head and disappear into it. Unlikely, he decided. Wouldn't fit down over his ears - few hats did. He compromised and reached up, puling the brim at an angle that blinded him to the students in the hall. Then he squeezed his eyes shut for good measure.

You wouldn't be the first to try. The thought wasn't his own, and it took a moment for him, in the blurry and flustered state he was in, to recognize the Hat's voice. Except he couldn't hear it - it was in his head. The Hat read minds? That'd make sense, he supposed -

No history at Hogwarts? How lovely. But dearest Mum wants you in Slytherin, doesn't she? The Hat seemed to be pondering. Tapendra wasn't sure how to talk back to it. His eyes darted to the people at the ends of the tables. If he spoke could they hear him? The hat could hear his thoughts, couldn't it? It -

He lifted the brim slightly, opening one eye and looking at the Slytherin table. Several of them were smirking at him. He didn't want to go there. But the Hat was right; Mum was probably hoping he'd be in that House. It was were she would have been, he knew -

And we can't disappoint your dear sweet Mother, can we? She expects so much and offers so little. The Hat's voice was sudden. He yanked the brim down again, whispering with clenched teeth, "You're not helping."

But I can't put you there, can I. No, no - they'd eat you alive. Unless you want Slytherin? Do your Mum proud? Tapendra had to hope that thinking the word No as loudly as he was able got the message across. All he heard in his mind from the Hat was a silent but dry laugh. It wasn't a very nice laugh - the Hat's tone in general seemed to be far too amused by his dilemma.

No? Perhaps Hufflepuff, then. You've got some loyalty in you, a desire to be lead and be useful to others, oh yes. But there's more there, isn't there? Can't decide quite yet, can I.

He wasn't sure what it meant, and he had to wonder how it determined these things. Wasn't Legilimency supposed to hurt? But this was painless. It wasn't even gentle - there was no feeling to the Hat's probing at all. That was an ancient and powerful magic indeed, and he wondered exactly how that worked. Had it built up over the centuries? Had this once been physically agonizing as well as bloody embarrassing?

There's a bit of fire in you, isn't there - Gryffindor would help you on that path, if you wish it. Tapendra's thoughts returned from his pondering enough for him to speak aloud, remembering at the last moment to keep it at a whisper. "I'm not brave," he hissed, reaching up and pulling the Hat tighter onto his head, angling the brim down even further. People were still looking at him. They couldn't hear the Hat, could they?

Not yet, was the Hat's reply. But it appeals to you, doesn't it? The ability to speak your mind, and stand up for others. To do what's right and not be afraid. Tapendra almost had no reaction - the Hat was right, he knew. But he didn't have those qualities. He wanted to have them, but at home he sat silently and tried to ignore things he just didn't...didn't like.

"I don't -" The whisper came almost unbidden, as he raised the brim slightly to peek at the Gryffindor table. He could feel the leather of the hat moving against his forehead and realized it was probably the hat's mouth moving. How long had he been sat here, anyway?

There was a long beat of silence in which the Hat said nothing, and he started to wonder if he'd broken it. Maybe if you said no to two house options it shut down and kicked you out? He gripped the brim a little harder. He didn't want to get kicked out. That'd be worse than Slytherin! He'd have to go live with Muggles, and he didn't know anything about them but what his mother said, which he was pretty sure wasn't accurate.

He was almost ready to take the Hat off his head and shake it or apologize and hand it back when it spoke again, tone still that strangely mocking one. You wouldn't mind living with Muggles, would you? It said, and he could feel the grin in the leather. You don't think you're witty - and you're not, boy. But that's not the only quality she selected for. No - an analytical mind that seeks answers to the world's mysteries is what she wanted. The sort of person who sets out not just to live in, but to understand the world around them...

Tapendra wasn't sure what it meant, but the hints in its words did set his heart a different kind of aflutter - this time not with nervousness or resignation, but with an odd kind of hope. That almost subconscious reaction seemed to be good enough for the Hat.

He jumped when the Hat's next word was not only audible, but bellowed.  "RAVENCLAW!"