This story will switch POV's between the two OC protagonists.

Charlie:

I stood awkwardly smashed in between the rest of the first years. I had to keep on my toes to peer over the crowd of eagerly bounding heads, but I was surprised to see that we were all centered around a small ratty looking hat on a stool. It slumped precariously over the side of the stool on which it was placed, with holes and rips and stains. I know its rude, but all I could think was how little I wanted to put it on my head.

I looked over at the girl next to me, who was staring at the hat with her nose scrunched up and her head cocked to the side. She was slightly taller than me, with wavy red hair, which she was keeping in a high bun. She was a pretty little girl, I'd say, and judging by the look on her face she was just as confused as I was.

"Why are we all standing in front of that silly little hat?" I asked hesitantly.

"Dunno," she admitted, "We're a strange bunch, aren't we?"

I nodded. "It's kind of cool though," I said. The hat was so slumped and folded, I could make out the contours of a grimace. I found myself mimicking the hat what I saw as the hat's face, and looked up at the girl.

She laughed, "That's pretty good!" And then she made the same face. I don't know why, but I really liked this girl. "I'm Amy." She said as she put out her hand. I wasn't one for handshakes, so instead I slapped her palm. It didn't seem to bother her too much—in fact she looked quite pleased with the gesture.

"Charlie," I said.

"Nice to meetcha!" Amy said. Just at that moment, the woman who had lead us up to the hat stepped in front of the entire hall. She was wearing an emerald green robe, and a big black pointed hat. Her face was worn, and exhausted, the face that teachers and presidents get because they're working far too hard for their own good.

"Good evening students!" She said as she raised her frail little hands, "Welcome to Hogwarts. As most of you know, I am Professor McGonagall. In just a few moments, we shall begin our start of the term banquet." Amy and I exchanged glances with the word banquet, and then giggled to ourselves. McGonagall eyes flicked towards us, and then back up to the rest of the room. "But before you all take your seats, you will be sorted into houses. Now, there are four different houses—Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin."

I quickly lifted my hand into the air, which seemed to shock McGonagall. At first she said nothing, but I waved my hand in the air so obnoxiously, she finally had to call on me. "Can I be in Gryffindor?" I asked. The students broke out into a fit of whispers and giggles at my question. It seemed legitimate to me, but everyone else was acting as though I had just asked to pop a squat on their holy magical golden toilet.

"I beg your pardon?" McGonagall gasped.

"She said she wants to be in Gryffindor," Amy repeated in a raised voice.

McGonagall really looked lost now. She began scanning the room frantically, and then her eyes landed on an old man with a long beard and a purple robe, who was sitting behind a table with the rest of the professors. He seemed to be slightly amused by our question, and was just sitting there with a feint smile on his face. McGonagall than closed her eyes, and sighed deeply.

"No," she said, "I'm afraid you'll have to be sorted with the rest of the first years. It's only fair."

"How is that-" I tried to jump in but McGonagall was already hushing the rest of the murmuring room. A crossed my arms and huffed. The hat then suddenly twitched up, and began to sing, sending us first years in a wave a shock.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep you bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts sorting hat

And I can top them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff

Where they are just and loyal

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in the wise old Ravenclaw,

If you're a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

Then, the hall burst into a fit of applause, all of the old student jumping up and down in their seats, banging their fists on the table. Each table—or rather—each house grew louder when the hat turned and bowed.

"It is a face!" I muttered to Amy, watching in awe as the hat smiled.

"Abbot, Hannah," McGonagall called over the excitement of the he room. A small stout girl with a round face and orange hair slowly approached the hat. McGonagall lifted it up, and placed it on her head. The hat perked up, and then shouted –

"Hufflepuff!" The Hufflepuff burst into cheers as Hannah bounded happily over to the table. This went on for quite some time, until Amy's name was called. Amy crossed her arms and pouted, as if she was not at all happy with the fact that she had to go up and be sorted.

"Helville, Amy," McGonagall called for the third or fourth time, "If you do not approach the hat this instant, I will be forced to put you on the train back to London immediately." Amy rolled her eyes, and then slowly stepped up to the chair. The hat did not even need to be placed on Amy's head before it shouted.

"Gryffindor!"

Amy looked smug as she sauntered over to the Gryffindor table. No one clapped, two people were laughing at the astounded look on our dear professor's face. When we finally got to the 'M's, my nerves were on fire. I couldn't keep from tapping my foot, much to the boy next to me's dismay. A small boy with a heartshaped face and round glasses and green eyes.

"Do you have to do that?" He asked irritably.

"Yes, Mr. Smarty-pants, in fact I do. I have restless leg syndrome, and I must extert my energy in some way," I lied. The boy pushed his glasses back up his nose, which had been slipping down.

"Can't you exert your energy in another way?" He asked.

"I could punch you." I said quickly. That shut him up, and we both turned back to the hat. A boy with slicked platinum blonde hair had just gone up, and looked pretty pleased with himself for being the newest edition to Slytherin. The Slytherin table looked happy as well, and I wondered if he was royalty or something.

"Melsack, Charlotte," my heart leapt. It was my turn. I slowly moved up to the stage, and sat in the chair. The hat was then placed on my head, and it wriggled around on top of me. My head jerked back and forth with it until it finally shouted.

"Slytherin!" The rest of the tables were already mumbling and snickering to themselves, probably because of the fact that I had already made a scene about wanting to be in Gryffindor. The Slytherin table was about to clap, although not with excitement, just some bitter obligation.

"No!" I shouted. The whole room went silent. "No, I don't want that."

"Excuse me?" The hat hissed, "I have spoken, that is your place." I shook my head again. "Yes, you want Gryffindor, correct? I'm afraid I don't see you fitting in there. It's true, you have courage, that much is obvious—and yet, more so I see your lust for power and strength. It's that lust, that separates you from the Gryffindor's. Slytherin will foster that, you shall see."

"I said, I want Gryffindor." McGonagall was now looking horrified with my reaction. I looked over at Amy, and she was sitting straight up, chewing on her lip expectantly.

"No. Slytherin," The hat said, "That is my final decision."

My heart sunk. Was I seriously placed in Slytherin? I wanted Gryffindor. Why? I didn't know why, I just knew I did. I pouted and then slowly moved off of the stool, taking a spot next to the blonde boy from earlier. He put his hand out to me with a smirk, and said, "Hi, I'm Draco."

I looked up at him, and then sunk into my spot at the table. I watched as everyone else was happily sorted into their respective houses—the boy with glasses was apparently extremely famous, and just like me he begged not to be in Slytherin, except the hat actually listen to him. Gryffindor cheered as the boy approached the table, shouting We got Potter! We got Potter! Over and over again.

So much for a new start.


Hey all! Thanks for reading my story. It's been awhile since I submitted to FanFiction, but if you guys like this, I'll keep going. As a first step, I'd really appreciate if you could let me know if you like it, tell me what you think about the length (should I shorten my chapters? Lengthen them?) etc. Thanks thanks thanks!