Author's Note: Some of the chapters posted (viz., 2, 4) didn't result in the story's Update Date changing. I'm trying to figure out why, but in the meantime, if you want to keep abreast of new developments, please follow the story using the follow/favorite button up top, and you'll get notified when a new chapter is posted.
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"I can help you there," offered Draco. Harry hesitated for some moments, torn between Draco and Ron. This was an important decision, and he had to make it now.

Harry wanted to refuse, but then all the memories of his childhood flooded back to him, of Dudley and Piers Polkiss and the gang and all that would surely happen to him if he refused the Malfoy boy. Before Harry had completely made up his mind, Draco had shaken his hand and pulled him away from the others, sending a short and satisfied sneer down at a shocked and reddening Ron; just as the youngest Weasley opened his mouth to say something, McGonagall came back with an authoritative clearing of her throat and led them all to be Sorted.

"I'm glad you're smart, Potter," Draco told him in a soft voice. "You really wouldn't want to be stuck with them."

Harry mumbled something indistinct, feeling one part relieved at his safety and one part sick at leaving his friends.

"They are a disgrace to the rest of us pureblooded wizards, the whole lot of them," groused the other boy. "Did you know? Their father's been trying to put a law through to protect Muggles. Muggles. As if—"

"Muggles?"

"Yeah. Muggles." Draco favored Harry with a curious stare and a sarcastic drawl. "Surely you know what a Muggle is?"

Harry's jaw flexed. "Yeah." He shot a look over at Ron, who was refusing to look at Harry and glaring at everyone else. "Protecting Muggles."

"Mm-hmm. Loves them, his family does. Rumor says his dad plays with Muggle toys in his garage. He gets loonier each year! Although maybe he was always like that." Draco let out a bark of laughter, and Crabbe and Goyle laughed along dutifully.

Perhaps something had showed on Harry's face. "What is it?" asked Malfoy, a little rudely. "Feeling sorry for Weasley?"

Harry grimaced. "Muggles."

The blond boy was incredulous. "You're feeling sorry for—"

Harry pushed past Draco on his way up the stairs, fighting memories of his uncle. "Don't mention Muggles around me."

Harry's foul temper eased a bit in the Great Hall, which was truly wondrous. Candles hung from the ceiling—no, floated in midair, high above the ground—and older students sat at each of the four tables, all angled towards the row of teachers seated at the head of the room, in front of which sat a hat. On a stool. Harry nearly jumped when a gash opened up near the brim and the thing broke out into song.

"When I call your name," said Professor McGonagall afterwards, "you will sit on this stool and put on the Sorting Hat." She unrolled a large scroll of parchment. "Abbot, Hannah!"

A blond girl with pigtails bounded up to Sorted, landing in Hufflepuff to great applause, and several others followed her when their names were called in turn.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Harry felt guilty seeing her walk up to the hat—he'd left her behind at the stairs and she hadn't even done anything to deserve it. Well, Ron hadn't either, but… Muggles! He shuddered and watched Hermione sit with the hat. This one was a Ravenclaw, for sure.

"Gryffindor!"

Or a Gryffindor; who was he to argue?

After a few more Sortings, Draco leaned over to Harry. "I'm next," he said softly. "See you in Slytherin."

Indeed, the hat had barely touched the Malfoy boy's head when it shouted, "Slytherin!" and the table on the far right accepted him with a round of applause.

Shortly afterwards, "Perks, Sally-Anne" took her place among the older students and the next name was "Potter, Harry!"

The Great Hall had always had a base level of whispering. Feet shuffled when students entered the room, feet shuffled as the first-years awaited their turn to be Sorted, seventh-years carried on lazy conversations at the rear of the room, and new arrivals to the houses received quick introductions from their housemates.

The Great Hall had now fallen fully silent. Shivering a little, Harry made his way slowly up to the hat and stool. Dumbledore—Harry recognized him from the Chocolate Frog card, if nothing else—leaned forward a little, and even Professor McGonagall seemed to be staring at him a little more intently than usual.

Taking the hat, Harry sat on the stool and surveyed the room one last time. Neville and Hermione at the Gryffindor table, Draco sitting with Slytherin, and Ron standing alone, one of the few un-Sorted, looking at Harry at last, genuine concern on his face.

Then, Harry put on the hat and the brim covered his eyes.

-Ahh, said a voice. Ah, yes. Harry Potter.

Erm… hello…

-Hello, Harry Potter, and welcome to Hogwarts. But where to welcome you to, I wonder…

Er.

-Lots of courage, I see, and a fine mind, not afraid of hard work… what shall I do with you?…

Silence

-No? Hmm. You worry about having friends, Harry, and what others will think of you. You can have what you want in Gryffindor, you know. You've met two of them already, it seems, and the rest are matched in friendliness only by Hufflepuffs. You have the courage to face down your fears and live a life of happiness. And it's not too late to put things right with Ron, either; Houses run in families, and it's not too much to say he'll be put there with you. You might even become best friends.

Harry thought about that. He could take Gryffindor, be friends with Hermione, and Neville, and even maybe Ron, but there was no way they'd stick by him, not really, no one ever had before, not after Dudley got to them, and here Malfoy was offering to let him join and Crabbe and Goyle were so big—

Hat, thought Harry, I don't think I can take Gryffindor.

He registered nothing for a long moment, except perhaps a sad silence.

I am here to Sort, said the Hat at last, not to pass sentence. The choice is yours.

Harry thought for a moment about the other Houses, but he couldn't risk it. Here, he had an open invite, and no one had ever been kind to him twice. I'll take Slytherin.

The hat seemed a little more sure of itself this time, ritualistic, even, as it spoke the next lines. Are you sure? You could be happy, you know, in Gryffindor; it's all here, right in your head…

An image of Draco, surrounded by older students, chatting as if he'd known them his whole life, flashed in Harry's mind. Slytherin¸ he said, more determined than ever.

Well, if you're sure, said the hat, better be… "Slytherin!"

The Great Hall had been silent before Harry put on the hat, and during the course of its deliberation, the noise level had risen to a faint anticipatory whisper, but now the silence seemed deeper, if anything. Colder, really; barer. Harry set down the hat and made his way to the Slytherin table, each step feeling louder than the one before. Was anyone going to move, acknowledge him, or was this another one of their games, another test, maybe he was still under the hat and this was a vision of what was going to happen if he didn't reconsider—

There was a scattering of applause, all of it from the Slytherin table and from one set of hands at the staff table behind him, and Harry sat down next to Draco, numb.

Draco clapped him on the back, beaming. "Well done, Harry! Glad to have you with us." There was a murmur of assent from the rest of the Slytherin table, and quite a few lingering looks, both from them and from the other tables, as a fair number of the other students turned once more to watching the ongoing Sorting.

Ron did indeed end up in Gryffindor, sitting down next to Neville and being welcomed heartily by several redheaded boys who were most likely his brothers. He sat with his back to Harry, which made it much easier for them to ignore each other, which was just as well with Harry, who, despite his conversation with the hat, hadn't quite figured out what to think of the other boy just yet.