Helloooooo, this is another little one-shot that came to me at some point in the night, and I can't actually remember writing it, but anyway...
Disclaimer: Sadly, I don't own Harry Potter. If I did, Dramione would probably have existed since book one!
Harry looked around wildly for his companion, who was surprisingly stealthy for someone his size.
"Hagrid?!" He yelled. "Hagrid!"
Not spying the half-giant's head towering above the crowd, Harry gave up and glanced down at his ticket.
"Platform nine and three quarters?! Where the hell is that?" He muttered to himself, looking around once again.
"Hello, Mr. Potter," a scottish voice said. "If you would please follow my directions, I will show you the way to platform nine and three quarters. Once we have arrived at the platform, your trunk will be placed in the luggage carriage, and you along with our muggleborn students will be shown onto the train to view the new 'Introduction to the Wizarding World' orientation video'."
If anyone had been watching Harry, they would have noticed his face go pale. "Who are you?" He asked out loud, drawing the attention of several people around him.
"I am simply a magical recording, Mr. Potter. And no, the muggles can't here me - now chop chop, the train won't wait all day! To reach the platform, walk directly into the wall between platforms nine and ten. You might find it useful to do it at a run if you're a bit nervous." Suddenly Harry knew where he had to go - like an internal compass pointing him in the right direction.
He grabbed his trolley and pushed it in the direction he was being told to go in, stopping when he neared the wall. He caught a flash of red hair as a boy ran towards the wall and vanished into it as a rather large group of redheads watched.
"Like that, Mr. Potter. Off you pop now," the voice said, and the sense of direction was gone.
The family of redheads who had been standing by the wall as the boy - presumably one of them - had vanished into it had disappeared by the time Harry had screwed up his courage. Taking a deep breath, he scrunched his eyes shut and ran towards the wall, only slightly shocked when he met with no resistance.
When he opened his eyes, he gasped, taking in the platform full of people in strange capes and hats, with all kinds of owls, cats and even a few toads. Parents everywhere were kissing their children goodbye as they boarded the train, waving from the platform.
Harry's trunk disappeared, which alarmed him at first, but he soon remembered what the voice had told him, and hesitantly climbed aboard the train, finding himself directed into a carriage that was far larger on the inside than it had been on the outside.
"Settle down, settle down!" A voice said - the same voice that had told Harry where to find the platform.
"You're the voice that told me how to get here!" A brunette girl with frizzy hair spoke up, and the woman nodded.
"Yes, Miss. Granger. I am Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor house, and I will be your teacher for Transfiguration at Hogwarts. Most of you are muggleborns, which means you were born to parents with no magic, and no magical history, as far as we know. Those of you who aren't muggleborn have grown up in muggle households, and all of you know little, if anything, about the wizarding world." Professor McGonagall paused and looked around. "First of all, we'll start with some simple terminology. I have already explained what a muggleborn is, but 'muggle' is our term for people with no magic or magical heritage. Purebloods are wizards who believe they do not have any muggleborn blood, and are almost always extremely rich and powerful. Squibs are people who are born to magical families, but without magical powers, much like a reverse muggleborn."
The frizzy brunette from before raised her hand. "I've heard that all purebloods are evil, is that true?" She asked curiously, making the professor smile a bit.
"No, Miss. Granger. The most notable case is that of the Weasley family, but there are many others such as the Greengrasses and Zabinis that whilst not strictly Light families choose to remain neutral during wars. The stigma that I'm sure you have read about came from the last wizarding war - which I will now explain in more depth." McGonagall went on to explain about Voldemort's rise to power, about his reign of terror, his followers, his campaign of blood supremacy, and finally his fall.
"Harry Potter was the name of the child that many say defeated the Dark Lord." This made Harry's head shoot up. "And he's standing right there." As she pointed, everyone gasped and turned, whispering and staring at him.
"But you can all stop your gossiping," the Professor continued. "Harry Potter is just as normal as you and I, and it was his mother's sacrifice that defeated Voldemort when he went to strike Mr. Potter down."
The Granger girl raised her hand yet again. "But professor, that's not what I read-"
"Those books were written by people who did not witness the event. Even we can only guess, as there was only one survivor, and he was far too young then to be able to recall anything that happened, but our guess is better thantheirs, given that we are not idiots who believe a babe of but one year was abke to defeat the infamous Lord Voldemort. Don't believe everything you read in books Miss. Granger," Professor McGonagall answered, the young girl looking shocked that a professor would say anything against books. "I shall return to the second point to all that I have told you, other that giving you some information on the world you are about to enter - blood supremacy still exists. The Malfoys, Notts, Parkinson, Blacks, and many other ancient wizarding families still believe that their blood is purer, that they are better than you. This whole introduction is part of a new initiative to try and minimise the animosity between purebloods and muggleborns, they are currently being given a similar seminar about what is expected of them. You must try to understand that this is the way they have been raised, so whilst you should by all means be offended, don't hold them too harshly in your judgement. Many of them have rather difficult lives. Now, I believe we are approaching the school, so if you would all put on you robes and prepare to depart the train."
"Granger, Hermione!" Professor McGonagall called out, and the loudmouthed, frizzy haired muggleborn approached the sorting hat.
"Plenty of courage, hmm, yes, a thirst for knowledge. I see ambition as well, and loyalty, what a conundrum. You would do well in any house my dear, of course, I would have put you in Gryffindor, but now that you have been rid of the silly notions of Slytherins being evil, you could just as well go there. This doesn't often happen, but I will leave that choice up to you, dear, where would you like to go?" The hat asked.
"Could you...I would like to go where I can do the most good," Hermione replied in her head, gaze straying towards the Slytherin table.
"Of course, my dear. Better put you in...SLYTHERIN!"
The hall was silent as she made her way to her new house, Professor McGonagall smirking at the Headmaster - her new initiative was already working!
"Malfoy, Draco!" The professor announced, and the arrogant blonde swaggered up the steps.
"Ah, another blasted Malfoy, your father was a right piece of work. Demanded I put him in Slytherin, he did," the hat commented dryly.
"Yeah, well you better for me too!" Draco replied haughtily.
"No, no, think I'll take this opportunity to implement the second stage of Professor McGonagall's rather impressive scheme. You see, she realised that rather than putting people into houses for their first year personalities, it would be better to do it for how much good it would do them as they grow. If I put you in Slytherin, you'll be rotting away in Azkaban in ten years time. You'd suffering the same fate if I put you in Gryffindor - five minutes in for murdering your housemates. Ravenclaw...no, you need to learn humility, not have another outlet for your arrogance. But loyalty, there's potential there. Not much, but just enough, so it'd better be...HUFFLEPUFF!" Again, the hall went deadly silent as a pale faced Draco drifted over to the Hufflepuff table, sitting as far away from everyone else as he could.
"Potter, Harry!" Now the murmurs started.
"Harry Potter's come to Hogwarts!" He heard one person whisper loudly, scoffing at everyone's stupidity.
It wasn't like he rose up as a year old baby and hit the Dark Lord with a killing curse, ridding the world of his presence - and yet they all acted like he was some kind of hero. Bloody ridiculous.
All these thoughts whirled around Harry's head as he approached the hat, which Professor McGonagall quickly placed on his head.
"Hello, Mr. Potter. I've been waiting a very long time for you!" The hat said cheerfully.
"Uh, thanks, but can we get on with the sorting. The idiots are string at me and it's uncomfortable," he replied, hearing the hat laugh in his mind.
"Of course, so to-the-point, just like your mother. Anyway, I see you have inherited your parents' reckless Gryffindor bravery, and to a lesser extent your father's unwavering Hufflepuff loyalty, and your mother's Ravenclaw genius. However, i believe that the one house that will do you the most good isn't any of these." The hat's deduction made Harry's eyes widen marginally with intrigue.
"Slytherin, then? Interesting..." He replied.
"Yes, I'll have to put you in...SLYTHERIN!" Another hushed silence fell across the hall, broken only by the thud of Dumbledore's goblet hitting the table when he dropped it, face as pale as his beard.
Harry smiled, and strolled almost carelessly over to the Slytherin table, seating himself between Hermione and another Slytherin first year, Theodore Nott.
From his lonely position at the Hufflepuff table, Draco Malfoy looked on with envy.
"Weasley, Ronald!" Professor McGonagall called out, her voice croaky as the neared the end of the list.
Ron stumbled up the steps, the hat falling over his eyes as it was placed on his head.
"Another Weasley, eh? I know just what to do with you! Better be-wait...you're no Gryffindor! No, no, no - but I do know just the place for you! You think you're made of braver stuff, but the house you need is...HUFFLEPUFF!" There was no conversation between Ron and the hat, only a deadly silence once more as Ron made his way to the Hufflepuff table and sat down on the end of the bench - following Draco's idea of sitting as far away from the others as possible.
The ceremony was soon concluded with the sorting of Blaise Zabini into Slytherin, and the feast began - somewhat awkwardly. Dumbledore was still dazed by Harry's sorting, and that of the youngest Weasley and Malfoy Jr hadn't exactly helped with the shock. This would be a very interesting seven years.
Like I said, just a one-shot. That I may expand when I can't find the inspiration for my numerous ongoing fanfics, most of which I don't post, because I don't trust myself not to put it on hiatus. I hate putting fics on hiatus. Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this lil' seed of an idea that ended up being written at weel past midnight •^_^•