Harry was being called down to the headmaster's office again. He wasn't sure what he had done this time, if you didn't count hexing Malfoy from behind a suit of armor. And, for some completely unknown reason, Snape always seemed to count hexing Malfoy.
Harry was in his fifth year at Hogwarts, and it was going great. Cho was prettier than last year, and Ron and Hermione were getting awkward. It was a little laughable, and Harry often found himself wondering what was going to happen between the two. He'd have to ask Trelawny.
Speaking of teachers, Hogwarts had gotten a new DADA teacher. Her name was Umbridge, and she was ugly as moldy cheese. Really moldy cheese. Harry didn't even pretend his blow ups at her, even though he laughed it off after her detentions, because Hermione could wave her wand and fix the cut. It was funny how Hermione was able to overcome curses like that.
Harry was passing the boys bathroom on the fifth floor, and ran into Neville Longbottom, who was slumped down on a staircase. Harry's eyes narrowed as they took in the foot sunk into the stair, and Neville's body lurched forward.
"Oh, hey Harry!" Neville called. "Could you…um…help me?"
"Sure." Harry headed up the stairs, and helped pull Neville out of the staircase, and his foot came loose with a small sucking noise. Neville grinned slightly, apologized and thanked Harry, and turned to go up the stairs, avoiding the stair this time. Harry, feeling completely bored, began moving his feet in a circular motion, drawing something into the slight dust and dirt. When he stepped away from the drawing, he stared, then rubbed a foot over it, covering it, destroying it. Then he took off, rushing up the stairs, for the dust had reminded him about Dumbledore.
When Harry got to the entrance of Dumbledore's office, the griffin faced him with a slightly stern look. Harry had learned a couple weeks ago that the griffin could talk.
"Late much?" the griffin asked, snorting.
"Yeah, sorry, friend got caught on the stairs," Harry explained lamely.
"Sure. Or you were messing around with a girl," the griffin said, and when Harry opened his mouth to disagree, the griffin added, "and it's not me you need to be apologizing to. The Headmaster has been waiting."
"Uh, can I go in?"
"Do you have the password?" the griffin asked, saying password as if he was trying to say it to a toddler learning to speak.
"I wasn't given it," Harry answered, frowning.
The griffin chuckled, and said, "Then you can't expect to be let in. Hurry on now." Harry left the griffin behind, realizing it had probably been a joke. Shaking his head, he headed back to the common room. Only to find he was locked out of that one too!
"Fifth years and above are re-sorted," The Fat Lady explained, "if only because the students have changed. First years are sorted, and then fifth years are sorted again, because their true colors have been revealed. Yes, they just started that this year."
Harry thanked her, heading down to the Great Hall, wondering why this was happening in the middle of the year, instead of in the beginning. When he got down, all the fifth years were gathered in a bundle on the outside of the Great Hall, the sixth years in another, and then the seventh years. All of them were whispering, and Harry spotted Ron and Hermione, who waved him over.
"Oh no, this is awful," Hermione fretted. "We might be separated, and have to be enemies, and then—"
"Hermione, relax," Ron said. "Even if we get separated, we can be friends. The house hatreds aren't set in stone."
"Slytherin's is," Harry stated, and Ron nodded. Then the seventh years disappeared into the Great Hall. Fred and George Weasley were talking to another, looking annoyed, and Angelina Johnson was looking nervous.
They could hear the Sorting Hat as it shouted out houses, and when the seventh years were done, the sixth years entered. Then the fifth years.
"It will not be in order," McGonigal said briskly. "I haven't the time for that, and it was a bit sudden…anyway…Lavender Brown!"
Lavender clambered onto the stool, and the Sorting Hat began to think. "Gryffindor!" it shouted. Lavender looked relieved.
"Seamus Finnigan!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Hannah Abbot!"
"Gryffindor!"
Hermione Granger!"
Hermione looked sick as she climbed onto the stool. "Ravenclaw!" the hat shrieked to the hall.
"Draco Malfoy!"
"Slytherin!"
"Ron Weasley!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Harry Potter!"
Harry walked up and sat on the stool. The hat was on his head, and he heard it thinking, almost out loud, even though he knew the others could not hear.
"Slytherin!"
Harry froze, and Ron looked up from the Hufflepuff table. Hermione's jaw dropped, and she looked away. Malfoy raised his head, and met Harry's eyes. Confusion was showing through Malfoy's eyes, and he looked back down, shaking his head.
After sitting at the table, Harry watched the finishing at the Sorting.
"Padma Patil!"
"Gryffindor!"
"Parvati Patil!"
"Gryffindor!"
"Neville Longbottom!"
"Hufflepuff!"
"Blaise Zabini!"
"Ravenclaw!"
"Pansy Parkinson!"
"Slytherin!"
"Terry Boot!"
"Ravenclaw!"
"Susan Bones!"
"Hufflepuff!"
Harry glanced around the Hall, searching for the Gryffindor Quidditch team members. Katie Bell was slumped in her seat at the Gryffindor table, Angelina Johnson looking like she was swearing at the Ravenclaw table, Alicia Spinnet glaring at Sprout from the Hufflepuff table, Fred Weasley glaring at the hat at the Gryffindor table, and George Weasley shaking his head at the Hufflepuff one. And Ron was at the Hufflepuff table. Only Alicia, Katie, and Fred were left.
Cho Chang was sitting at the Ravenclaw table, same as always, and Lee Jordan was sorted into Hufflepuff, it seemed. A couple seventh and sixth years from all houses were now sitting at the Slytherin table, but nobody but the normal Slytherins from Harry's year.
Pansy Parkinson was staring at Harry, shock in her cold black eyes. Then the shock faded, to be replaced with…sympathy? Harry looked away, and to the front of the Hall. Dumbledore was speaking, so Harry drowned him out, and exited the Hall, sighing as heads turned.
When Harry was outside, he slumped forward, sitting on a bench. As soon as his house had changed, his robes had changed too. His green and black robes almost shone. Harry wasn't quite sure what to do.
"Harry?"
He turned. "Parkinson?" he asked.
"Pansy, if you would," she said, her eyes shining. Her black hair was curled in a tight bun at the top of her head, and she was smiling slightly. "It's reassuring to know that you'll be in our house now," she continued. "We could use you for the Quidditch team. Goodness knows Draco sucks."
"Did Dumbledore say anything about the Quidditch teams?" Harry asked her.
"Yes," she said. "House prefects will know all the details. Come on, I'll show you the common room."
When she and Harry entered, he noticed the sign posted on the wall.
Slytherin Quidditch Team:
Captain & Chaser: Roger Davies
Chaser: Draco Malfoy
Chaser: Cassius Warrington
Beater: Vincent Crabbe
Beater: Greggory Goyle
Keeper: Miles Bletchley
Seeker: Harry Potter
Malfoy was a Chaser? Harry was the Seeker?
"Oh good," Pansy said, smiling, satisfied. "You're the Seeker. That's good."
"Alright, where's my dorm?" Harry asked, as rude as possible.
"This way," Pansy said, pointing. "Your stuff should all be in there. See you later, Harry!"
Harry sat on the green bed, and sighed, looking around the room, wondering why this had happened. Dumbledore had made a huge mistake, re-sorting students. And Harry had the nagging feeling that it was only going to get worse.