Oh boy, here I go making another story again. Enjoy.

Broadcast #0: Sorting

"Harry Potter?"

The girl next to him was close. Too close, Harry noticed, head snapping back. Next to him, the girl did the same, scooting back on the bench. Her hair was yellow, like the stripes on her tie.

"Ah, um… yes?"

He heard murmurs. Then he realized she wasn't the only one looking at him. The boy on his left, and another across from him, a redhead—Red, he thought, mulling the word over, eyes trailing over to the long table just next to the one he sat on. Red like the banners that flourished over it, like the pair of twins making such a fuss at its head. Like the one friend he'd made in this place, separated from him by a hat. He liked red.

But these people weren't the only ones staring. Half their own table seemed to be staring at him, or at least glancing his way, keeping him at the edge of their sight. Half the hall, really, people from other tables looking at him, like he had a lit fuse stuck to his head and they were waiting for it to either fizzle out or run its course and blow up. It felt like the Leaky Cauldron all over again.

"Blimey, he's deaf after all, ain't he?"

That was the boy in front of him. Blond, bangs reaching his eyes. "I'm not…" Harry trailed off, because so far, the blondes he'd come across had all been rather unpleasant. But then again, this one wasn't like the last one he'd talked to, if the lack of green was anything to go by. He didn't know much about Hogwarts or its houses, but if Draco Malfoy had taught him anything, it was that not getting sorted into Slytherin was something to be glad about in and of itself.

So then, he considered, whatever Hufflepuff is, it can't be quite as bad, can it? Biting into a mutton chop, he figured he might as well give it a try. It wasn't Gryffindor, with Ron and his brothers, but it wasn't the worst.

"What was your name again?" Harry asked, and the boy's smirk left him.

"Ernest Macmillan," he said, chest puffed out. "Son of Rowland Macmillan, I'll have ya know."

"Never heard of him," Harry said, then, seeing Ernest deflate before his eyes, "ah, no offence?"

"Don't worry, no one's heard of him," a girl next to him said. She turned to Ernest, fork stabbing into a chicken leg between them. "Having a radio show doesn't make you famous, last I heard." Noting the blank look on Harry's face at seeing her, she smiled, slicing off half the chicken and shoving it into her mouth. "Hunnuh Uhbbuht," she said, and he nodded, because he could just ask her later. When he did, he found out her name was Hannah Abbot.

The boy on his other side, one he remembered hearing the name of, a Justin Finch-something-or-other, leaned forward to look Hannah's way. "How've you heard of him if no one has?" he asked, and was met with an open hand like a wall telling him to wait. Hannah took the time to swallow her food.

"My grandpa's obsessed with all that self-help rubbish," she eventually said, getting another forkful ready. "Always blasting it out in his house. We don't visit much these days."

"Still, tons of folk tune into Archery Club!" Ernest said, pointing his spoon at her. "I mean, if your grandad does—"

"Then it's a show for old foggies anyway."

The two kept it up, and for someone who didn't visit her grandfather much, Hanna sure knew a lot about the show he watched. Enough to argue about it, at least. Watching them, Justin tutted, breaking off a piece of bread and dipping it into his soup. "Oh well, there's nothing for it with these types, you know. Blonds, I mean. Always picking a fight."

Harry recalled Draco again. He was starting to see what the other boy meant.

"I'm Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said, holding out a hand. After a moment of deliberation, Harry shook it. "And you're Harry Potter. I guess you're pretty famous around here."

"I guess so," Harry said, getting some eyes back on him.

Ernest leaned forward, eyes narrowed. "Oi, you don't gotta be modest about it! You're the Boy Who Lived! Someone like you, I'm actually surprised you didn't end up in Gryffindor."

"What'd the Sorting Hat tell you, anyway?" Hannah asked. "It said I'd fit right into Hufflepuff! Said I'm the most loyal friend you'll ever have! You should count yourself lucky, Harry."

Justin's face dulled. "You sure work fast."

"Of course," she looked at Harry, hands clasped against her chest. "Oh, my first celebrity friend! My sis'll be so jealous!"

"The hat told me I had a lot to learn, whatever that means," Ernest said.

"You seem like the type," Justin said, then, before the other boy could protest, "I was told I'd have to work my butt off. Can't say I'm looking forward to it."

The three looked to Harry, ready to hear his side of the story, but he averted their gaze. He turned to the redhead next to Ernest, who'd been silently eating her own dinner, not sparing the rest so much as a glance. It was as if she was in a completely separate room. "What about you, uh… girl." Well that had sounded a lot ruder than he'd wanted it to.

The girl slowly turned to him, raising an eyebrow, as if someone had knocked on her door and she was considering just ignoring it. Then, she sighed. "Susan," she said. Then, she looked up at him, or more accurately, at his scar. His hand shot up to cover it out of reflex. Susan rolled her eyes. "My aunt was in Hufflepuff, so I asked it to put me here too."

"That's not how the Sorting Hat works," Ernest said, then chuckled to himself. He looked around at the others, asking soundlessly if they could believe it.

Hannah shook her head, and Justin shrugged, saying "I wouldn't know," but Harry did, and so he knew Susan wasn't lying.

"I told it, 'Not Slytherin,'" Harry said, almost whispering. "It put me here instead. I don't know why."

"Huh," Ernest stuck a finger in his ear, digging. "Well, don't mind me, I guess. Not Slytherin? I can see why. They don't seem the most friendly type, do they?"

Hannah raised her chin. "My uncle was a Slytherin. He always brings me a chocolate frog when he visits on weekends. I love my uncle."

"Well, maybe it's all part of his evil plan," Ernest said, rubbing his hands together. "You know, like this, plotting in the dark."

"What could he possibly have to plan by giving candy away?" Justin asked, chin resting on his hand, eating a tart with the other.

"She seems like the minion type, if you catch my drift."

Said girl crossed her arms, frowning. "Just my luck, sitting with such a jerk. Why don't you go bug someone else?"

The two began bickering again, and Harry turned to Susan, but she looked to be ignoring them all again. He didn't feel comfortable bugging her if she didn't want to talk, so he turned back to his food.

"So, why Hufflepuff?" Justin asked, getting Harry's attention with a bump on the arm. "I mean, if not Slytherin, there are still three others to pick from. Did the hat tell you why?"

"No," Harry lied, and it came fast, before he could even think about it.

Justin set him with a flat look. "You were on that chair for a while, you know. Longer than the rest of us by half." When Harry didn't say anything, he ate the last bit of tart, patting his stomach. "Hey, fair enough. I'm sure it's worth keeping to yourself." He reached for another pastry, but sighed, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice instead. "You might belong in Hufflepuff, where they are just and loyal, those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of toil. That's what the song said, so I'm sure it's got something to do with all that."

"I'm surprised you can remember it," Harry said.

The other boy waved it off. "It's just a four-line stanza, nothing to make a fuss about," he said. Leaning forward, conspiratorially, he went on, "But hey, I can tell you're new to all this too, right? Muggleborn, they call me, and the rest of them muggles. I'm doing fairly well now, but I have to say, at first I thought I was going insane. Have you seen how crazy some of this magic stuff is?"

Harry thought back to the things he'd been privy to past few weeks. The floating candles right over their heads, the ghosts, the wand shop… Well, all of Diagon Alley in itself. A secret magic train station inside a brick column, not to mention the animate candy. Hagrid the giant, with whom he shared a smile when their eyes met across the hall…

"My uncle didn't want me to have the letter they sent," Harry said, careful not to mention too much, "so they sent another one. And then another one. And another one. They started falling in piles from the chimney."

That got a smile out of Justin. "Well, I can't say I'm not happy about it, and they even gave us wands," he said, taking his out. "Cherry and grudgkin spine, or so I was told. Yours?"

"Holly and phoenix feather," Harry said, though he didn't show his.

Justin nodded, pocketing his wand. "Phoenix, huh? I've talked to two other people here with grudgkin spine as their core, but you're the first phoenix I've met. Maybe there's something to all this Boy Who Lived nonsense after all?"

Harry joined along with Justin's snickers, though in his head, he recalled Ollivander the wandmaker. The old man's voice grating in his ears, speaking of him doing great things one day. And the hat, another in what was turning out to be a long list of expectants:

Difficult, very difficult… Plenty of courage, I see, and not a bad mind either... There's talent, oh yes, and… no? No thirst, no desire? How modest. Where to put you? Not Slytherin, you say? Hmph, I can see why. Wasted, that's what you'll be, in Slytherin and the rest. Maybe I'll do you a favor… For your sake, it'll have to be… Hufflepuff!

Unlike my other stories, I have no real plan for this. I'll try to keep it in chronological order, but I feel like there'll be a lot of jumping around. All I know for sure is that Hufflepuff doesn't get enough love.

I guess you could look at this story as what it would actually take for Harry to become the confident badass we see so often here.

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