Chapter I: Sorting Hat
The faint face of the Sorting Hat creased. McGonagall glanced around the room, tapping her wand on the edge of the parchment in her hand. Her eyes met Dumbledores'. His bushy eyebrows raised just a fraction, an undeniable glint behind the half-moon spectacles. The Hat seemed to squirm on the young boy's head, as if it had gone to say a house and then changed its mind.
McGonagall looked at the names on the list to where she was currently at. Malfoy, Draco. To be sorted into Slytherin, no doubt, just like his father before him, and his father before him, and his father before him, all the way back to the dawn of time. The small boy's forehead crinkled, his pale eyebrows edging closer together with each passing second. His fingers slipped down the side of the stool and curled around its rough edges.
McGonagall's eyes flitted to a small, gold watch wrapped around her thin wrist. Two minutes. She looked back at Dumbledore, who still seemed thoroughly unconcerned. Her sharp eyes passed along the other teachers at the table… Trelawney, Quirrell, Snape. The latter was already staring at her, his black eyes round and uncomprehending. Still unsorted? his gaze seemed to say; Draco Malfoy. The son of the infamous death eaters Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black, sister to Azkaban inmate Bellatrix Lestrange.
McGonagall gave a rapid, half shrug. It was as much a mystery to her as it was to him. She tapped her wand impatiently on the parchment, hoping the Hat would get the idea. Her gaze drifted across the hall. The other first years exchanged nervous looks— whether because they had recognised his name or because they were afraid they would be sat there for so long, she could not tell.
Some older students caught her eye. "Sit down, if you please, O'Malley," she called, and a lanky Slytherin boy with a mess of blonde hair rolled his eyes and dropped into his seat. "That goes for you two too, Weasleys," she said, nodding at the ginger twins on the other side of the hall.
She turned back to her list, but as she did so, she saw Draco staring up at her. She tried to give him an encouraging smile, but her thin lips turned it into something of a grimace.
There was noticeable consternation amongst the teachers now. Flitwick fiddled nervously with the corner of his napkin, and Hagrid's hand had gone unconsciously to his beard. Even Dumbledore had finally recognised something was amiss. He was leaning forwards in his seat, his eyes peering through his spectacles.
Draco shifted in his seat, his feet barely brushing the cold flagstones. His eyes darted to the Slytherin table on the far left.
McGonagall checked her watch. Almost five minutes. She pursed her lips, tapping her thumb nail against the fir wood of her wand.
The Hat twisted on top of Draco's fair head. Then it opened up, as a clam shell revealing a pearl, and exploded: "Gryffindor!"
The hall fell silent. Draco was motionless. A few muggle-born students, mostly first years, looked round curiously, wondering why no one was clapping. Snape froze, his eyes fixed blankly on the back of Draco's head. Some faint muttering drifted over from the Slytherin table.
Even McGonagall didn't move, rooted to the spot. The incomprehensible, the unimaginable, had just happened. She glanced at Dumbledore. He was leaning back in his seat, his arms resting on the arms of the chair. He caught her eye and nodded at the boy. She looked down.
Draco was staring up at her. His breathing was rapid and shallow. "Congratulations, Mr Malfoy," she said loudly, her throat somewhat dry. She raised her hands and clapped a few times. A smattering of applause broke out across the Gryffindor table. Fred and George Weasley, who had slowly risen up, sat down again, their hands firmly stuffed inside their robes.
McGonagall leant forwards and gingerly lifted the Hat off his head. Underneath, his pale hair was ruffled, and his cheeks were red. From where she stood, McGonagall could see him quivering.
Shakily, Draco stepped down from the stool. The crowd of first years parted to let him through. No one at the Gryffindor table cheered. The applause had almost died out. No one stood to shake his hand. He froze for a moment, his eyes darting from one to the other.
"Well don't just stand there," the Weasley twins said in unison.
Percy Weasley nodded at the end of the table. "You might as well sit down now you're here."
Draco took the hint. He shuffled awkwardly onto the end of the bench, facing the wall, his head bent down, staring at neither the Gryffindors nor the unsorted students, just the empty seat and blank wall opposite him.
Student after student was sorted. All the other houses were noticeably quieter in their applause, although the Gryffindors seemed to cheer louder with every new student, offering them handshakes and hi-fives, encouraging them to sit with them.
"Weasley, Ronald!"
"Gryffindor!"
The lanky ginger boy almost collapsed in relief, staggering from the stool to the table. The Gryffindor table cheered loudly this time, relieved that normality, and now their spirits, had been restored. Their mood lightened after this, and the cloud that was Draco Malfoy seemed to disappear from their sunny mindsets.
"Potter, Harry!"
The room fell to another deathly silence. Despite himself, Draco turned his head and glanced up. The famous Harry Potter. Thin as an old broom and twice as scrawny, with his hair that stuck out uncontrollably, and his spindly, saucer like glasses. For another minute, the hall waited in silence, the teachers again exchanging nervous glances. Would he be like his parents? A movement from the Hat caught everyone's attention. The entire hall held its breath.
"Slytherin!" The far table exploded. Crabbe and Goyle sprang to their feet. Pansy Parkinson rushed over to him and, taking him by the hand, led him to a place on the bench in the midst of the throng. O'Malley jumped onto the bench and thumped the air, shouting, "Whoop, whoop, whoop!" More students ran from further down the table to congratulate him, shake his hand, touch his robes.
Draco turned away, staring once more at the empty bench opposite him. He winced as McGonagall saw the final student and the Hat shouted one last time. "Slytherin!"
Once the clamour had died down, Dumbledore rose and spoke a few words. Draco ignored him. There was only one thing that mattered now. What life was there for him at Hogwarts if he wasn't in Slytherin?
Food appeared out of nowhere, fresh and steaming, making his eyes water. The other Gryffindors edged away from him, leaving three large dishes all to himself. But he couldn't eat. He felt disgusted, like he would be sick if he ate anything. His stomach turned over and over. His heart was beating slower than it had earlier, but he could feel every beat like a blow to his chest.
"Draco Malfoy?"
He raised his head. The bench opposite him was no longer unoccupied. A girl with enormous amounts of bushy hair and huge front teeth was watching him nervously. She looked like a hamster that had been given an electric shock. He went to smile, relieved that someone had come to talk to him. But then he flinched. "What?" He snapped. "Come to taunt me, have you? Come to make fun of me?"
"No," the girl replied, slightly taken aback. She shook her head and adopted a bossy sort of tone. "I thought you might like to come and eat with us."
"With you?" She nodded. "Why would I want to do that?"
She stared at him incredulously. "You are hungry, aren't you? How couldn't you be hungry?"
Draco shrugged. "I don't want to eat anything now."
"Well if you're not hungry now you'll certainly be hungry later."
"Don't I recognise you?" He frowned. "You were on the train, looking for a frog or something."
"It was a toad, actually," she corrected him, "for a boy named Neville. He's over there." She pointed, but Draco didn't look. "Look, you might as well join us, you're going to have to make friends so you might as well get on and do it."
"Make friends with who? You?" He regretted it almost as soon as he said it. He could tell from her expression that he'd offended her. He opened his mouth to apologise, but it just flapped uselessly.
"Well, not if you don't want to," she said stiffly, "there's Neville, or Seamus, or Lavender, or Dean, or Ron—"
"Not the Weasley kid?" It came out before he could stop it.
She stared at him incredulously. "I don't know why you have to be so rude," she said, "I'm just trying to help. They all seem like perfectly lovely people, but as for you, I'm not so sure." She got up and marched back to her original seat.
Draco's eyes followed her as she went. The entire section of the table she was sitting at— the Weasleys included— were glaring at him over their plates.
His cheeks flushed an angry red and he turned away. His heart pounded inside his chest. He looked down at his hands. There was a small splinter embedded in his finger from where he'd gripped a particularly sharp bit of the stool. He passed the whole of the dessert course trying to pull it out, but to no avail.
"First years, follow me and keep up!" Percy Weasley called, leading the way out of the great hall. Draco shuffled along at the back, his head down, aware that the whole of the hall was watching him. "Keep up at the back!" Percy called.
A sharp elbow in his back sent Draco stumbling forwards.
"Watch where you're going, Malfoy!" One of the twins jeered at him. "Yeah, watch it, blondie!" The other jibed. "Third years coming through."
"Now the password," Percy announced at the picture to the Fat Lady, "is Caput Draconis. Be sure not to forget it, or you won't be allowed in."
"And don't stay out too late!" The Fat Lady cried, "Some of us need our beauty sleep!"
Percy ignored her. "I'll give you all your timetables on the way in, then wait for me in the common room."
One by one, the students filed past him, taking their timetables. Draco was the last. "Ah." Percy looked down at him through his horn-rimmed spectacles. "Malfoy."
Draco reached out and took the sheet from Percy's thin, bony hand. It was a plain sheet of paper, but even as Draco watched, the boxy shape of a timetable appeared with flourishing writing stating the days and subjects that he was to attend.
"Go in," Percy muttered tersely, nodding his head sharply towards the Gryffindor common room. Draco hesitated, his foot faltering over the threshold.
"I'm not sure…"
Percy glared at the back of the blond head. "Hurry up, Malfoy. I'm not waiting forever."
Draco tried to lick his dry lips, but his tongue was even drier. Percy sighed impatiently and pushed past him, marching into the common room.
Draco hesitated on the step. His heart quickened as he peered inside. He shouldn't be here. He should be outside the Slytherin common room, with its green lit tinge, rough stone walls, hidden underneath the lake.
"Are you going in or not?" the portrait of the Fat Lady demanded.
Draco jumped, but nodded sheepishly, despite being out of her view. His foot, clad in a smart, polished shoe, stepped across the threshold.
The Gryffindor common room was round, with a few alcoves and nooks. A roaring fireplace dominated one side of the room, an enormous carving of a lion on the mantelpiece. Several squashy, almost collapsed, red armchairs and sofas were crowded around the fire and tables. A couple of portraits stared down at the first years, inspecting them with beady eyes. Golden chandeliers emanating a warm light hung from the high ceiling, seemingly suspended in mid-air.
The older students had already arrived. They were crushed onto the sofas, either squeezing onto the seats, balancing on the arms, or lying across the back. Their eyes landed on Draco as he entered. His heart sprang to his mouth, clenching his hands into fists to hide their shaking.
"Boys on the left, girls to the right," Percy stated loudly, pointing at a small staircase set into the wall. "Your suitcases should already be there."
The group split, some staying to read the bulletin or talk to older siblings already in Gryffindor.
His timetable clutched in his hand, Draco slipped away, moving to the staircase behind the girl with the bushy hair and her friend. A couple of older Gryffindors were coming the other way, and stepped aside to allow the girls to pass. Draco tried to go up after them, but the Gryffindors cut in front of him. Draco stumbled backwards down the steps, letting them pass before trying again.
The boys' dormitory was deserted. He checked the labels of the suitcases until he found his at the back of the room. The bedspreads were a deep shade of red, and the curtains were much the same, only heavier, designed to shut out the light. A mirror on the wall caught his eye. Did he dare look? Curiosity got the better of him.
His pointed face was even more pale than usual. His hair that his mother had slicked back that morning was ruffled, with strands sticking out from behind his ears, so wispy that they appeared white. His grey eyes were round and his chin quivered. Unable to continue looking, he dropped his gaze. It fell to his bedside table. On top was a lamp, an empty glass and neatly folded clothes. He reached forwards and picked up the top item. A Gryffindor tie. The red and gold colours burned against his palm. His lip curled. His fists pounded it into a ball and threw it with all his energy at the wall. It got no further than the edge of the bed. Draco kicked the oak four poster bed. He gasped, his toes stinging. Tears burst into his eyes. His breathing quickened and he sank to the floor.
What would his father say if he saw him now? Don't cry, Draco, it's undignified. No son of a Malfoy would be so weak as to let his feelings show.
Draco shuddered. Desperate not to cry, he drove his fingernails into his skin, gritting his teeth.
Footsteps on the stairs made him start. He jumped to his feet and turned his back to the door.
The footsteps stopped as the person entered. Draco didn't turn around. The footsteps carried on, cautiously. Draco wiped his nose with his sleeve, trying to act natural.
"You alright?"
Draco span round. Ron Weasley. He was standing on the opposite side of the room, pulling on the woollen cover on his bed.
"Fine," Draco said shortly, "why do you ask?"
Ron seemed unable to hold eye contact. "I was just… You know. Gryffindor. Bit of a shock. For you. Well for all of us, actually. Fred and George—"
"I'm fine!" Draco repeated loudly. "I don't need you or anyone else to help me. Just wait till my father hears about this! He won't stand for it! A Malfoy in Gryffindor. He'll sort this out all right. He'll tell Dumbledore. Just you wait and see! I'll be in Slytherin by next week."
Ron stared at him. He tried to nod, but it was nothing more than a lift of the chin. "Right. Sure." Ron walked backwards towards the stairs, as if afraid to turn his back on Draco.
Draco himself raised his chin defiantly, a small smile on his lips. Ron disappeared out the dormitory. Draco's smile lingered for a moment, but then faded. It felt fake. Draco took a deep breath, before sinking onto the bed. He kicked off his polished shoes and drew the curtains around him, hiding in the darkness. He lay down on the bed, his teeth gritted, his chin trembling as he tried to control his erratic breathing and his heart that hammered against his rib cage.