Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter
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Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore observed his students regally from his place at the staff table. He always found it fascinating when students changed drastically over the summer (as teenagers were prone to do)—perhaps it had to do with the fact that he had barely changed over the course of the past few decades.
Dumbledore switched the focus of his attention as his deputy headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, marched through the Great Hall doors, the first years behind her.
Ah, yes. The first years. Dumbledore was always interested in the eleven-year-olds that came to Hogwarts for the first time, but this year in particular. Why? Because none other than, Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, would be among the newcomers to the school.
Dumbledore knew his decision to leave the child with his potentially vile relatives had its risks, but he felt that it was the most reasonable choice. The lesser of two evils, per se. He was concerned about how Harry had grown up, but was confident that Arabella Figg, the squib he had watching Harry, would be able to pick up on anything out of the ordinary. He hadn't heard anything from her in a couple years, but surely that was a sign that there was nothing wrong?
He scanned the faces of the first years, not sure what to expect. Would look like James or Lily? Or an odd mix of both? He became a little uneasy at the thought that Harry had perhaps inherited James' rebellious behavior. (He had not yet had a chance to talk with Hagrid about Harry, and the gamekeeper had seemed to be avoiding him as of lately. Dumbledore just assumed he was busy getting ready for the coming school year and had thought nothing of it.)
Though Dumbledore's hypothesizes were reasonable and, in all likeliness, probable, his guesses were quite off.
No, Harry Potter was not at all what he expected.
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"Potter, Harry."
As McGonagall uttered the name of perhaps the most famous child in Wizarding Britain (and maybe the world), whispers swept through the student body, irregular footsteps the only sound discernible from the hushed exclamations.
As the owner of the uneven footsteps walked along the tables to the stool at the front of the Hall, the mutters died down to near complete silence.
The person, identified as one Harry Potter, sat down on the stool, oblivious to—or perhaps simply ignoring—the wide-eyed stares.
As the Sorting Hat was place over the Boy-Who-Lived's head, blocking most of his face from view, the murmurs started up again.
Harry Potter was not at all what they expected.
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The boy in question, oddly enough, had sentiments quite similar to the others in the Great Hall.
When he had first heard of the Wizarding World, just barely a month ago, he had expected a cheery and glittery place, an assumption that may or may not have been influenced by the Muggle fairy tales he had read when his relatives weren't looking. He had thought his entrance to the Wizarding World would have ended the whispers and stares, but if anything, they increased tenfold, not helped by this whole 'Boy-Who-Lived' business.
Harry, only vaguely aware of the whispers that he knew were going on around him, sat down on the stool. He had been relieved to find that the Sorting would just be a hat; he had worried that his . . . er, disability would put him at a disadvantage. But a hat? This he could do.
The hat covered up most of his face, and Harry was put a little more at ease. He didn't want to see all the people staring at him.
Hmmm, what do we have here? A small voice said inside Harry's mind, who barely resisted flinching. The hat was inside his head?!
Yes, yes, how else am I supposed to sort you? The hat chuckled. Well, you're certainly clever enough for Ravenclaw, but I see you do not share the same values as the others there. Slytherin is out of the question, as well. I think Hufflupuff would suit your circumstance the best. You'll certainly need loyal friends.
Harry blushed. He hadn't really made any friends on the train; it seemed like most people were a little nervous around him. But after being alone all through his childhood, Harry was eager to make friends, even if he had wanted to go to his parent's house, Gryffindor.
If that's where I'll be accepted, send me there, Harry thought, not quite knowing how to communicate with the hat.
The made a sound of approval then shouted for the whole hall to hear, "Hufflepuff!"
Though the clapping at every other table was rather hesitant, Harry was thankful for the cheers and applause coming from his new housemates.
He sat down and responded quietly to the people greeting him. As he did so, his eyes roamed the Hall, finding most people staring at him and whispering to the people next to them. He sighed.
No, Hogwarts was not what he had expected (and hoped for).
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After the students left the Great Hall, Dumbledore gestured for Hagrid.
"Rubeus, I'm sure you've noticed young Mr. Potter's . . . condition," Dumbledore started carefully, not wanting to offend Hagrid by implying he wouldn't notice something like that.
Hagrid sighed. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore, sir, I did notice, but after I tol' little 'Arry 'bout bein' the Boy-Who-Lived, 'e asked me not ta tell anybo'y. Dinit want more unwanted attention, 'e said."
Dumbledore nodded slowly, gaining respect for the crippled young man. "Do you know how it happened?"
Nodding, Hagrid said sadly, "The Dorsey's and 'Arry were in that Muggle thing—a 'car,' I think—and another car hit the side 'Arry was in. Bloody awful."
Dumbledore closed his eyes. "Thank you, Hagrid," he said, dismissing the half-giant.
After all the staff had left, throwing glances at the Headmaster as they did so, Dumbledore rested his head on his hand, rubbing his temples.
He had worried about Harry's safety, of course, but he had assumed his worrying would be for naught and the Boy-Who-Lived would show up at Hogwarts with a big smile and bright eyes. He arrived at Hogwarts, all right, but never in his darkest nightmares had Dumbledore imagined he would do so with only one leg and horrible scars across his body!
No, Dumbledore though tiredly, rubbing his eyes, this was most definitely not expected.
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AN: So this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction (though I think I've read just a LITTLE too much) and I would really appreciate knowing what you think about it! :)
Thanks for reading!