Roses are red

Violets are blue

I don't own Harry Potter

This is sad, but true

The small girl stood amongst her new classmates, who were crammed tightly together as they waited to enter the large wooden doors.

A stern looking witch appeared and the group quieted down.

"Follow me," she said brusquely.

The group shuffled forward, jostling their way in to what they had been told was the Great Hall. They found themselves standing on a platform in front of four long, wooden dining tables. A sea of black pointed hats bobbed and swayed as the older students seated at the tables craned their necks to get a better look at this year's newest recruits.

The girl began to feel weak at the knees, and willed herself to stand straight. She felt an elbow in her back and turned to glare at its owner. The pale, blonde boy from the train sneered back at her. She whipped her head back around, her bushy brown hair flying, as a voice sounded through the space.

"The sorting hat," a whisper came from behind her. She bristled, thinking how rude it was to speak when clearly they were meant to be listening.

"What does it do?"

"You put it on and it tells you which house you belong in."

"So no spell casting, troll fighting?"

"Where the heck have you been getting your information from, Weasley?"

The other boy mumbled something unintelligible and they fell silent.

The hat had finished its song, and the girl gritted her teeth. She had hardly heard a word thanks to the three boys behind her.

The stern witch was back in front of them now, and she instructed them to step forward and put the hat on when she called their name.

"Abbott, Hannah," She called, and a girl with blonde pigtails stepped forward. She placed the dusty hat on her head.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted. She scurried off to join her table.

"Boot, Terry," was a confident-looking boy who quickly became a Ravenclaw.

"Brown, Lavender," became a Gryffindor, which was clearly the most exuberant house if their reaction was anything to go by.

Bullstrode, Millicent!" A burly looking girl pushed her way through the group, and jammed the hat on her head.

"SLYTHERIN!" The girl sneered, and the table to the far right cheered.

As the stern witch made her way down the list, the girl began to visibly shake. She had read about the houses, of course. Though due to her Muggle (that's what Headmaster Dumbledore had called her parents) heritage, she could only go on the shallow facts books provided.

"Granger, Hermione," The stern witch looked up, and the girl stiffened. Walk! She commanded herself, go to the hat!

She felt her legs comply, and she was soon seated on the small stool in front of her peers. She slowly placed the hat on her head, and jumped slightly when a small voice sounded in her ear.

"Hmmm," the hat murmured, "Brilliant mind you've got there, Granger. Ambitious, I see. Cunning, too, though it's very well hidden for the most part. I think I know where you belong…"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Hermione hopped off the stool and turned to look at the Slytherin table. No one was smiling. No one was cheering. The whispers started at the Hufflepuff table, and spread outwards like spilt cooking oil.

She swallowed, took the hat off her head and placed it back on the stool. She walked woodenly towards the far side of the hall, her head held high. She sat on the edge of the bench, closest to the platform she had just left. The few students seated at this end scooted closer together, leaving a span of wooden bench between them and Hermione. She sighed and determinedly fixed her eyes on the Sorting Hat.

She watched resolutely as the rest of her classmates were sorted. She had to work to keep her jaw off the floor when the boy with the toad – Neville – joined Gryffindor. Jealousy rose in her gut like acid reflux as she watched Harry Potter and that red-haired boy join him.

Once the Sorting Hat had finished its duty and was taken away, the tables filled with all the most delicious of dinner foods.

Hermione was momentarily distracted from her predicament as she loaded roast meats, baked potatoes and gravy on to her plate.

The hall was bursting with noise as students chatted and laughed. No one paid her any mind, and she felt a little hurt. She had no idea why they were ignoring her.

"Fancy letting a Mudblood into Slytherin!" A cold voice came from across the table, "It's an outrage! Poor old Salazar must be rolling around in his grave!"

Another boy snorted, "The Hat must have had a malfunction or something."

"Well I hope Dumbledore fixes it quickly."

"Knowing Dumbledore, it was he who caused the malfunction in the first place," The group grunted their assent and the first boy shot a look at Hermione.

"Oi, mudblood! What's you name again?"

Hermione was unsure if he was talking to her at first and motioned with her index finger at her chest.

The boys beside the one who had spoken to her roared with laughter. The boy smirked.

"Yes, you."

"Hermione Granger," she said evenly, lifting her chin slightly.

"Well, Granger, welcome to Slytherin," Hermione narrowed her eyes. He didn't sound welcoming, and his posture suggested he meant otherwise.

"Thank you," She replied coolly.

"It's true then?" A high-pitched voice came from further down the table. A dark haired girl with a nose like a pug lifted herself from her seat and sauntered over to sit next to Hermione.

"There's a mudblood in Slytherin?"

"It would appear so, Pansy."

"Wait until my mother hears about this!" The girl sneered.

"Ten Galleons says my father flips out before your mother," the pale boy scoffed.

"You're on, Draco," The girl named Pansy retorted.

They shook hands. Hermione wondered if they could still see her. It felt so surreal.

She cleared her throat, "I'm sorry," she started, "but what's a mudblood?"

The group chuckled and Hermione knew it was at her expense.

"A witch or wizard born to non-magic parents," The boy named Draco said. He looked as though he had swallowed something foul.

Hermione raised an eyebrow, "Is that a bad thing?"

The group laughed heartily this time.

"The worst, Granger. No one in Slytherin has ever been less than half-blood," Draco leaned back slightly, "which is more than should be let into Hogwarts, if you ask me."

Hermione was silent, processing what he was saying. So that was why she received no cheers, no claps on the back as she took her seat at the Slytherin table. They thought she was beneath them, not worthy of their high blood status.

Tears began to form at the back of her eyes, but she forced them back. They were for later, when she was alone. Not here, where they could see and further make fun of her.

Thankfully, the Headmaster chose that moment to stand and the Hall fell quiet.

He ran through the school rules, and welcomed the first years. He then sent them to bed.

Hermione followed the Slytherin prefects through the castle and down to the dungeons. She shivered slightly as the temperature dropped, though no one else seemed to be effected.

"Here we are," the prefect stopped outside a large, grey wall.

The first years craned their necks to see what he was indicating. It still looked like a plain old wall to Hermione.

"Salazar," the wall slowly opened, revealing a large common room bathed in dim green light.

The group crammed in. Older students lazed in black leather arm chairs in front of a roaring fire. Others were propped up on desks, leaning against the windows or climbing the spiral staircases Hermione assumed would lead to the sleeping quarters.

"Girls, follow me," the haughty-looking female prefect called and Hermione fell in line behind Pansy, Millicent and two other girls.

She ascended the stair case, and was shown to a wooden door.

"In there are you dormitories," she nodded towards the door, then turned around and left.

Hermione was feeling extremely anxious. She rung her hands as the two other girls stepped into their dorm. Hermione followed reluctantly.

There were five four-poster beds, covered in quilts of black, green and silver.

The four other girls chose their beds, and Hermione was left with the one closest to the door. She sighed, and moved to drag her trunk to the foot of her bed. They unpacked silently, and then Hermione changed in to her night things and crawled between the covers.

"Goodnight," she said meekly. There came no reply, and soon she was fast asleep.