For a moment, I wondered if I had some kind of tumor in my brain. Then I caught up and breathed out a sigh of relief.

  You are aware of its presence? the hat asked.

  How to spin this? My passenger was bad news, be it back on Earth Bet or here in the magical world, and it was in its nature to harm us, technically, so the hat would be very accurate to peg it as a major threat. But I hadn’t had a lick of control on any bug since remembering I could, once, tell bugs what to do, not even thanks to accidental magic. I’d thought maybe it was just myself who’d moved on to this afterlife and I could almost believe it because it didn’t feel very Parahuman-y.

  I was only further convinced by discovering magic, that not even Contessa had anything to do with this, until I touched my wand and felt a connection reaching to my head like the ones I had with bugs, a slight presence clearly all around and within me, except in another dimension. I felt I could concentrate on it, but I also felt that would develop into a headache very quickly and frankly I hadn’t been all that eager to jump right back into the arms of my passenger, or whatever it had, tendrils? I still didn’t feel it when I wasn’t in contact with my wand and even than it was more like sitting in the same room but not paying much attention to each other than anything else.

  Well, not always. When I’d went a few days not touching my wand at all, when I’d been unsure about it, it had shifted around a little, almost like saying, Hey, I’m here. It also seemed to focus? when I was trying to cast a spell. Annoyingly, I’d forgotten the vision I’d got when I bought my wand somewhat, which made me a little paranoid, but I suspected that was more about something with magic than anything about passengers. I hadn’t thought much of the vision itself that day, had taken it in stride, which was weird also. Asking about it to my passenger had gotten me a metaphorical shrug, and I hadn’t pushed the issue. I had no idea how I was supposed to do that anyways, talk and argue with the multidimensional parasitic alien between my ears.

  It’s... complicated. It’s a guest in my head. A girl I met had told me they are called passengers... It might seem dangerous but it’s harmless.

  You’ll acknowledge I didn’t ask further about the previous matter?

  I blinked. My past life. Yeah? What about it?

  We’ll agree I’m not being pushy on any matter other than the safety and the security of the school, the student body and the greater magical world, yes?

  Letting the hat control the conversation was annoying, but I didn’t have a choice, and honestly? It was right. Even if this was my second chance, even if the hat said I had “inherited” my memories as the hat had put it, I wasn’t necessarily a person anyone would want near vulnerable people. Sure, I replied.

  But, to be honest, that whole tangent of the hat about whether I was the actual Taylor Hebert or not? That hadn’t felt right. It was something I’d thought myself, but the hat’s words had left me feeling bothered.

  Glad for that, Ms. Hebert. Now, I think you’d like a share of my perspective. What do you know about the Sorting’s history and how I came to be the main event of it?

  No idea, really, I answered. The books don’t mention you at all.

  It actually chuckled. The common knowledge is that the Four Founders of Hogwarts used to choose who would go to which house, but as they approached their old age, they came together and made me.

  I’m sensing some crucial info is missing from that?

  Very astute. I guess I would be sarcastic if I only could talk to kids and old men for 800 years, too. The usual understanding is that I was made from scratch, a new idea. Couldn’t be more wrong. You see, Ms. Hebert, the calm; quiet, welcoming Wizarding Britain you entered wasn’t always what it is now. Just like the chaotic muggle world back then, the era Wizarding Britain was in when Hogwarts was founded didnt forgive, didn’t show mercy. It was in turmoil. Monsters lurked at every corner and it was common place for parasites to prey on people, ambush them or trick them to take over their bodies or assimilate their brains. The first of my kind were invented for detection of monsters under human skin, and it was a success. With creatures, ghosts, possessors, worms and other kinds of this particular niche of magical existence eradicated, the hats soon followed their disappearance, except for me, who’d been pulled aside and repurposed for the Sorting. Truly genius thinking.

  I would have loved this if we didn’t have more pressing matters.

  If you think I’m the victim of some kind of magical brain tick, why even bother talking to me? How can you tell it’s not making me talk and lie to you, or even control the flashes of emotion and personality you see? I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think it had an answer have ready.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  Two reasons. The first is that for the effect of parasiticism to be covert, there needs to be some, usually considerably high amounts of cooperation on the victim’s part. This meant that unwilling victims were often quickly identified and freed of their torture, and that it was evil witches and wizards who took on the creatures for the purpose of power. Since the entire shtick of them is pretense, they often aid their cooperators in their disguises and impersonations.

  So it looked like I was some slimeball who injected some flatworms into their brain to perfect their mask as a kid to you?

  Precisely. That was the reason for my anger and threatening attitude, and I sincerely apologize for that.

  Apology taken. I understood it, really. And the second reason?

  Let me explain it with a metaphor. When I’m Sorting, it’s as if I’m on a boat, floating on a serene lake. So serene and clear that, when I lean over the side of the boat and take a look below, I can easilly see all the fish swimming around, the ecosystem. That is what’s going around in your head, and your replies are the fish that come over and your memories are the fish that swim too fast, go behind rocks and algae and such. Now, in the case of a casual parasite, I’d see it in the form of a alien worm, or maybe a clearly abnormal predatory fish, attacking and eating the other living beings and disrupting the ecosystem and maybe even mutating it.

  And how do you see my passenger?

  Well. That’s the problem. These lakes are normally not very deep and they are very clear, I’m used to seeing everything from the very surface to the sand at the bottom. It stopped.

  And?

  With you, I can’t see the bottom at all, it said and I was stunned. It descends into darkness, but here and there, I see the impression of something different lurking beneath, moving up and down, something so large it’s everywhere.

  I was speechless.

  This is the problem. This creature is unlike anything seen before, something old and strong, something that has chosen you as a vector instead of a vessel... And yet, your fish are perfectly healthy, undisturbed, unchanged by the expected effects of such a gigantic influence.

  I... see. What could I even say to that? The way he made it sound, I needed to be locked up away from society until it could be figured out what was looming over me. What now?

  I need to think, Ms. Hebert. I think this conversation is far from over- ah.

  What?

  To continue the metaphor, a tendril of something alien has been extended out of the water for me to grab, requesting audience.

  What?! What the fuck did that mean, my passenger wanted to talk to the hat?

  I think I’ll take it.

  Wait! Stop!

  It was useless. I sat there, the stream of speaking in my mind gone, unnervingly aware of the people on the tables and my fellow first years standing. I closed my eyes and tried to catch the now familiar voice of the hat, but nothing reached me. I didn’t know what to feel, if the situation hadn’t already taken my legs from under me, I might have said I was hurt my passenger had so eagerly pulled the hat aside for small talk, despite pretty much ghosting me for months, even with my wand.

  Seconds turned to minutes, and I glanced to my right as McGonagall retrieved her hand from my shoulder. “Is there a problem, Ms. Hebert?”

  “No, no, he is thinking,” I said a little too loudly, and whoever was within my eyesight turned to their eyes to me in some manner; glancing, staring, some even glaring.

  The uncomfortable silence stretched, but the hat eventually came back.

  Yes, yes, it was muttering, what a brilliant mind. Yes. Far more similar to each other in our interests than I realized.

  What happened?

  Ah, Hebert. True. It’s decided, there is no problem. I will keep your secrets, especially the one of your passenger. We can Sort you now.

  I wanted to push for info, because I was curious how the hat was made to drop it so fast and it wasn’t everyday that I came across someone that could communicate with my passenger. But I shut up, because I felt like I was getting off lightly and that I’d taken too much time on this stool.

  Hmm, hmm.... Very multifaceted for a child, but that’s expected for someone like you... Brave, brave like a honey badger out in the savannah, brave out of necessity more than anything else. Smart too, but not a researcher. Practical, thinking when the moment demands it. Ambitious as well... Monstrously so.... And yet, what defines you is... your desire for connection and cooperation, your sense of value for friendship and loyalty. You are a Hufflepuff all right.

  I noticed it wasn’t announcing my house.

  But?

  But, your circumstances are wholly unique, to the point that I doubt I’ll encounter another one like you ever. And you are equipped, the experience of a warrior, thinker and a politician all wrapped in one, sitting in your lap.

  I could see where it was going. Stop, I pleaded. I want to be in Hufflepuff. Put me in Hufflepuff!

  My protests fell on deaf ears. The soul of this school has been rotting quietly for some time. You have the quality to heal it. You have the spirit to connect it, to bring the lions and the snakes together. The nerve to do it, yes...

  Shocked, I was. Just a moment ago, you were telling me how I’m not the me from before, how I was a child!

  Yes, but you are armed with-

  Ah, stop! Be consistent! Am I an adult or am I not? If not, don’t put an adult’s responsibilities on my shoulders!

  Take it up with the devil on your shoulder, it said, and the fucker was gleeful.

  What are you doing, fucking me over?! I’m eleven years old, I want to have fun, I don’t want trouble, that house is dangerous for a-

  “SLYTHERIN!” It boomed and what followed was a sharp silence instead of deafening applause.

  I gripped the edge of the hat, squeezed hard, threateningly.

  Do not, I said, let Harry come after me, I warned, before ripping it out of my head and walking to my table.