Phelix enjoyed the rest of the train ride in peace. The students were polite but had little interest in their professor. Phelix completed editing his course studies by the time they got to Hogwarts.

The stout man hobbled off the train and into a carriage. 

Once on the grounds he went straight to his room, as cozy as a castle-room gets, nestled above the Hufflepuff halls. He put away his things, changed his tie, combed what little hair he had, then made off to the great hall for the sorting ceremony. 

Phelix had sat near the very end of that long faculty table for a very long time, an extracurricular teacher, and an oddball, both earned him that place on the fringes. Things changed when he became head of Hufflepuff, and his seat was much closer to the middle near where the headmistress sat. He had to climb into his seat, the whole hall and all its furniture was overlarge and ornate. 

The old doctor closed his eyes, recalling his own sorting. 

[i]
‘Oh, such noble and pure blood! Yet, also pure of mind and heart...’

‘You can talk?’ Phelix was surprised by the sound of a voice in his own head.

‘Of course silly, how do you think I’m supposed to make this decision? We’ve both got to think! Now… You have Slytherin on your mind, I see!’

‘My parents were Slytherin’s, and theirs, and theirs…. I think you’ve sorted them all, Sir Hat.’

‘Indeed I have! ‘Sir, Hat’! I like that!’

Phelix twiddled his nubby thumbs as the Sorting Hat amused itself. ‘Is there even a choice?’ He wondered, but of course the sorting hat heard.

‘There is always a choice! And I can think of no better place for you to learn that than...’

“HUFFLEPUFF!”
[/i]

Phelix sighed, and shook his head. He wished he could hear what the sorting hat said to each student. It was a pivotal first step in a wizard discovering their own identity. The choice had certainly mattered him a great deal to him. 

He sat bat, folding his hands over his belly, and relaxed as the Headmistress began the proceedings.