Disclaimer: As wonderful as my writing is cough I don't own any of the characters or indeed call myself J.K. Rowling… You know the rest…

Authors Note: Please don't be too harsh on my punctuation. I tend to either put in too much at inappropriate points, not put things in where they really should be, or just not put things in at all. I'm sure you can work it all out one way or another. You're all clever chaps and chapettes.

Setting: What can I say! I'm still traumatised from HBP. And refuse to acknowledge the ending because I love Him and now I want to hate Him. So I suppose this is an alternate book 6 really. Set after the events in OoTP anyway, so SPOILERS FOR OOTP. Some characters are likely to be OOC, and possibly more so as we progress!

Summary: Harry pulls himself together after the events in OoTP but soon finds that his new attitude towards schoolwork, together with Dumbledore's fresh attempts at 'inter-house relations' have landed him somewhere he doesn't really want to be – Slytherin. Will he survive?

Underestimated

Usual Welcomes

"Hufflepuff!"

The shout rang out across the hall, followed by a shower of applause from the announced house table. Harry stared at the empty goblet in front of him, his thoughts hazing in and out of focus; the broken clapping bringing him back down to earth each time.

"Harry?" Came Hermione's concerned voice, "Are you alright?"

Harry slowly brought his gaze up to meet hers, clearly expressing a don't-even-go-there vibe, and the question faded into silence. She pursed her lips and sat back, folding her arms with a slight frown.

"Well you are being rather quiet after all." she muttered.

A snort was audible, and a certain redhead turned from the Sorting with a wide grin.

"'Mione, let the man doze. Not everyone finds this ceremony as exciting as you." Ron absently picked some fluff off his sleeve, then added, "Especially after six bloody years of it."

Harry smiled, glad to have an excuse for his lack of attention. Although a doze would be very welcome, at the moment he would have preferred to siphon some thoughts from his head before sleeping. Thoughts and memories seemed to be on full speed, zooming around his mind like little owls. Little owls with no sense of direction.

He couldn't blame Hermione for worrying about him. It just irked him to have people constantly tip-toeing around the issue of Sirius' death. It had been painful, but he'd had all summer to come to terms with the 'event', and now he was ready to move on.

Two weeks into the holidays he'd been hit with the realisation that Sirius would hardly have wanted him to mope around in his room for the rest of his life, and so, in need of a distraction from his moping, had taken the liberty of unearthing all his old textbooks. With the Dursley's new-found complete ignorance of his existence, Harry discovered that he could quite happily work through his old schoolbooks in peace; although, to his discomfort, he had come across sections of his second and third year work that had been so successfully forgotten that he wasn't even sure he'd seen them before.

By the time he left for Grimmauld Place he felt more confident with his theoretical work, and, thanks to the extensive warding of his late godfather's house, found himself becoming more confident with his practical work too. Hermione and Ron hadn't been allowed to stay at headquarters for long periods of time, and even though this had upset him at first, he had soon found that maybe it was good to have a little quiet-time – some of which he had spent in Sirius' room, sifting through memories. Just because he'd decided not to mope in his own room didn't mean he couldn't occasionally mope in his godfather's room.

Now here he was, with a head full of facts and figures that Hermione would have been proud of, cursing the fact that the only subject that continued to evade him, was the only one that could clear the flurry of owls in his mind– occlumency. The thought of it brought a scowl to his face and without realising he was doing so, Harry found the direction of his gaze moving upwards to the staff tables.

Snape sat there as brooding and shadowy as ever. He was watching the sorting uninterestedly, a finger tracing his lips, dark eyes glaring at any students who dared to clap too loud. Harry studied the potions-master carefully: Outwardly, Snape didn't seem to be too harassed by the current war going on in the outside world. Dumbledore looked a little more tired than usual, McGonagall perhaps slightly strained, but Snape - the one who Harry decided should be feeling considerable pressure all things considered – was sitting there happy as ever. Harry snorted to himself as an unbidden picture of a 'happy-Snape' joined the circling owls in his head.

Unfortunately, it seemed that back in the present world, Harry's snort had occurred at a moment of heavy silence while the hat was sitting on the head of a worried-looking first-year boy. He escaped the notice of the hall in general – thankfully only receiving funny looks from those sitting nearest to him. However, Harry's outburst seemed to have earned him his favourite kind of attention; green eyes locking with unfathomable black ones as he returned his gaze to the head table and a certain potions professor.

Welcome back, Harry thought uncomfortably as Snape glared at him… or glared into him. No matter how hard Harry tried to find any emotion in those dark eyes, or to work out what the potions-master was thinking, it was always rendered useless. The man just didn't have any emotions. Harry tried to place 'happy-Snape' at the front of his mind and force the thought across to the professor himself, keeping the bat away from the rest of his head. But, Harry wondered, maybe his tornado of mind-owls would give Snape a meltdown if he received them all at once. Unfortunately though, he didn't get the chance to try out his theory, as Dumbledore stood up with a resounding, "Well now!..." effectively snapping both of them back to the ceremony at hand.

"What was that all about?" Ron muttered, having noticed his friend's staring match.

"Nothing, don't worry about it." Harry replied softly, a sinking feeling in his stomach suggesting that there would be little change in his teacher's attitude this year.

Hermione gave them both a pointed look and they sat in silence for a few seconds. Dumbledore's voice rumbled on in the background, giving the usual messages of warning and welcoming.

"The usual greeting from our dear old Snape?" Ron said after a moment, with a heartfelt look on his face.

"It's alright for you," Harry said frowning and dropping his voice even further, "You didn't make it into his bloody class this year."

Ron grinned, "And let that be a lesson to you about what happens when you work too hard."

Hermione's head whipped round this time,her hair catching an unfortunate Seamus in the face. She had obviously taken personal offence at this last remark, Harry noted with an internal sigh. It had become more obvious over the holidays that his two friends were becoming more… romantically interested in each other. However this didn't bode too well for Harry's future peace-of-mind, because the only way that they managed to express this affection was by deliberately baiting each other.

"Would you two just shush!" she hissed, her attention returning to the speech just as quick as it had left it.

Harry watched Ron's face for a reaction and sure enough, a little smirk appeared on his face at her words. Just ask her out, for goodness sake, Harry thought. He returned his gaze to the empty goblet. But what if it was his presence that kept them apart? Maybe they were too embarrassed to become an item with him around… Maybe they didn't want him to feel left out…

Harry sighed and mentally growled. He had just added more speeding owls to the ever-expanding family in his head. He turned his attention back to the speech, Dumbledore's voice continuing happily.

"…and so in order to establish some bridges between our houses, I have discussed with our Sorting Hat the idea of inter-house exchange."

Harry's head snapped up, and he noticed that the headmaster looked positively delighted with this idea. Harry also noticed that he himself had become incredibly uncomfortable. It seemed that the hat had taken matters into its own hands - so to speak.

All of the little owls in Harry's head fell silent and sat unmoving.

"As we realise that many of the younger students are still establishing friendships, and have not divided into their chosen subjects for higher learning yet, we have decided to only re-sort pupils from year five and above…"

Was the room steadily getting warmer?

"…and as this will only be a temporary arrangement in order to see if we achieve success, we will only be taking one student from each of the four houses- years five, six and seven; twelve students in total. The hat has decided who is to change houses according to those of you who it felt would benefit from a change in scenery. And of course, those of you who it felt were hardest to place when you were first sitting up here… "

Harry loosened his collar slightly in an attempt to cool down. He could have sworn Dumbledore's gaze flicked to him for a second. Did it seem concerned? Queer looks were shot at him from several directions and he tried to compose himself. Hermione watched him carefully.

"I wouldn't worry Harry," she said, "What are the chances of the hat picking you? And even then, we'd still see each other right? I mean, it wouldn't be that bad if you were put in Ravenclaw, would it?"

Harry realised that she was trying to help him, however, caught a hint of curiosity in her voice. Perhaps Hermione was picturing herself up there, being sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Ravenclaw?" Ron sniggered, "Hufflepuff would be more like it with yourhistory Harry!"

Harry managed a strained smile, and a noise that he later decided sounded like a maimed deer. He knew exactly where the hat would put him if it got a second chance. His eyes darted across the room where Malfoy and his friends sat, looking incredibly relaxed, before returning to the headmaster.

"…Having discussed this with the hat earlier in the evening, I now have in front of me a list of chosen names. When I announce your name, please step forward," Dumbledore swept the room with a warm smile, twinkling all the way, "And take a seat on the stool. Professor McGonagall will then place the hat on your head. It may feel like it has shrunk in size, but I assure you it is only your heads that have inflated with knowledge over the past few years…"

Harry fell into a daze as Dumbledore began announcing the names. He couldn't go into Slytherin. He just couldn't. Not now. He'd be slaughtered in his sleep. Surely Dumbledore wouldn't allow it. Harry paused, stopping himself from getting carried away. He hadn't even been picked yet. In fact, there were probably plenty of students who were almost put into different houses during their first sorting… right?

A grumpy fifth year Hufflepuff slouched over to the Gryffindor table. No-one seemed to be quite sure how to react to their headmasters brainwave, and everyone who had been 're-sorted' so far had been welcomed with scattered clapping. Dumbledore stood with a smile on his face all through the proceedings.

Harry's eyes darted about the tables, as if searching for an exit. Perhaps this was just a terrible dream.

Ernie Macmillan was called, and moved nervously towards the stool. As it turned out, he was re-sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Who'd have thought it?" Harry heard Ron ask in wonder, "Macmillan, a Ravenclaw."

At the next name Dumbledore paused. Harry glared at him, and made sure that the teacher noticed this when their eyes met. The headmaster'sblue gazereturned to the sheet, a small smile playing with his lips. Harry closed his eyes.

"Harry Potter!"

Chapter 1 finished! More to come I promise. Hope you enjoyed! x x x