Harry stared at the inside of a hat that came well past his ears, past his nose even. He expected it to smell musty, as old hats usually did, and by his reckoning, the hat was thousands of years old.
But it didn't smell musty. It smelled pleasant, like leather and fabric.
But then, nothing in the world was what it had seemed to be, was it?
A month ago, on his eleventh birthday, Harry was whisked away by a giant man named Hagrid, who told him he was a wizard. Harry had had a hard time believing him, but he had seen the giant do magic, had seen a brick wall to open up and reveal a hidden magical market place.
He had even managed to make a stick shoot sparks out the top.
And now Harry was sure this all wasn't an elaborate dream, because here he was, at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, being sorted…
…by a hat. That was at this very moment, talking into his ear.
"Courage, hmmm, yes, quite a bit of that…oh and the talent! Magnificent! Just waiting to burst forth. Bravery runs very deep in your heart boy, great signs of a Gryffindor…"
Gryffindor. The hat had described the house as the daring, brave and chivalrous. Did Harry feel brave? He certainly didn't around Dudley, who beat him up on a daily basis. But he was here wasn't he? He had taken the chance to escape when he could, certainly something that took a great deal of courage. After all, it wasn't everyday you had to run into a brick wall…
And the bushy haired girl on the train—Hermione—had said Gryffindor was the best house there was. The boy Ron had agreed. But she said she wouldn't mind Ravenclaw either.
"Ah wit," the hat said in his ear, reading his mind. "Yes, no doubt about it you have plenty of that. But 'wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure'? No, not your philosophy at all. You're much more of a Hufflepuff than Ravenclaw…"
Harry remembered a scathing, sneering voice. "'If I was put in Hufflepuff, I think I'd leave, don't you?'"
Although Harry's opinion of Draco Malfoy wasn't high at the moment, he had to agree with him. Just and true? Harry actually snorted out loud. He considered himself true enough, but not so much that he was put into a house for it.
"Oh, I quite agree," the hat told him. "Although more a Hufflepuff than a Ravenclaw, a Hufflepuff you are not….hmm, interesting. You've got a great taste to prove yourself boy. Quite an ambition to push yourself above the rest here at Hogwarts. Want to prove yourself, do you? I remember another boy quite like you. Sirius Black was a tough one…"
Harry tuned out again. He wished the hat would just sort him. He seemed to be taking much longer than the rest of the First years had.
"I see two paths for you Mr. Potter, and either one could lead you the right way if you only committed to it. Which shall it be though?"
Harry sat silently. It was the hat's job to sort him, and he wasn't going to make his opinion known if the hat knew best.
"No say in the matter, eh? And I thought you'd be one to choose your own path too…"
Harry's eyes popped open. Wait, what? His own decision? But it was too late now. The hat had taken matters into its own hands.
"Better be…SLYTHERIN!"
The last word was shouted through a silent Great Hall. Harry shakily removed the hat from his head to find a sea of faces staring back at him, some shocked, some incredulous, and some incredibly worried.
"Is this a joke?" One of the Weasley twins finally yelled through the silence.
But it wasn't. Harry moved unsteadily towards the Slytherin table, home to the most evil witches and wizards to ever come out of Hogwarts, including the man who killed Harry's parents.
He reached the last empty spot at the table, only to look up at the sneering face of Draco Malfoy.
"Hello Potter," he said. "Welcome to the right table."