Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended…I don't own anything. Harry Potter and everything associated belongs to J.K. Rowling and affiliates. This is intended for entertainment only, and no profit is being made.

Author's Note: I know this has been done probably a million times before, but I can never find a good "Harry is Sorted into Slytherin" fic. I DO know about the Sacrifices series, and I loved it, but it was extremely AU. I've always wondered what things would have been like if canon-Harry, in a canon-universe, managed to get Sorted into Slytherin. And I'm actually pretty sure he would have, had it not been for his meeting with Draco Malfoy on the train. So…the meeting with Draco on the train didn't happen, for the sake of this story.

Note: This won't be a dark!Harry or evil!Harry fic. It will be very much our canon-Harry, just under a different set of circumstances. And I can't promise that I'll re-write the entire seven books…right now, I can only promise the first. But with that said, I hope everyone enjoys!

Chapter One - The Sorting Hat's Decision

The Sorting Hat stayed on Harry's head a long time; longer, it seemed, than with anybody else. And Harry knew, just knew, that his worst fear was coming true - he really didn't belong at Hogwarts, didn't belong anywhere, and soon a professor was going to take the Hat off his head, tell him it had all been a mistake and he would have to leave. Oh, he could hear Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon now, telling him how stupid he'd been to believe he could fit in somewhere, even amongst freaks. Maybe he could beg Hagrid to let him stay in his hut…anything would be better than going back to the Dursleys'.

"SLYTHERIN!" The Hat finally exclaimed, interrupting Harry's inner musings. For a brief moment, Harry felt immense relief - he really did belong somewhere - but then he realized how quiet the Great Hall had become, all except for the occupants of the Slytherin table, who were clapping uproariously. Numbly, he remembered Hagrid telling him about Slytherin, about how it was an evil House that produced Dark wizards…but Harry wasn't evil! It must have been a mistake, surely…

"Go on to your table, now, Potter," McGonagall told him, not unkindly, as she took the Hat. Harry nodded, sliding off the stool.

Along the way to the Slytherin table, Harry chanced a look at his new friend from the train, Ron Weasley. Ron was frowning slightly to himself, looking everywhere but at Harry. And though he should have been used to this sort of thing by now, Harry's heart gave a small lurch. Ron had been his first friend, not counting Hagrid, who was an adult and didn't count in the same way. His first friend, and now he wouldn't even look at Harry.

Harry swallowed, ignoring the stares and whispers and continuing to the Slytherin table. He eyed his new Housemates curiously - they certainly didn't look evil, in fact, a number of his fellow first years were standing up and clapping at his approach.

"We have Harry Potter! We have Harry Potter!" A girl with a slightly squashed face chanted excitedly, until an older student shot her a disapproving look, shutting her up quickly.

"We were placing bets on which House you'd go into," said a slightly heavyset girl with dark hair, after Harry had sat down. She grimaced slightly. "I figured you'd go into Gryffindor for sure, but Pansy here just knew you'd be in our House." She grinned. "I guess she was right!"

Harry blinked, bemused. This whole being-famous-thing would still take some getting used to. All he could think to say was, "Oh."

"I'm Millicent Bulstrode," the girl said, extending a hand. "And this is Pansy," she said, indicating to the squashed-face girl. Harry shook hands with them both, although he couldn't help but glance longingly at the Gryffindor table, where Ron was now seated and laughing boisterously with his new Housemates.

Finally, after Blaise Zabini was also sorted into Slytherin and Professor Dumbledore had made a speech, warning the students away from the Forbidden Forest and the third floor corridor, food materialized out of thin air to fill the table in front of him. Harry ate mechanically, in spite of all the times at the Dursleys' when he would have given anything for food to just appear.

"Move over, Pansy," a bossy, drawling voice demanded suddenly. Pansy shrugged, scooting so that a small, pointy faced boy with white-blond hair could sit beside Harry. With a start, Harry realized who he was - the boy from Madam Maulkin's, who had reminded Harry so much of Dudley, who had insulted Hagrid. Harry bristled slightly, filled once more with the immediate dislike he'd taken for this boy.

The boy stared straight at Harry for a moment, as if at a loss for words.

"You're Harry Potter," he said finally. "I'd heard you were on the train, but I didn't…" he trailed off, then drew up slightly, as though remembering himself. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." He held out a hand, which Harry took reluctantly.

Upon releasing Harry's hand, Draco's face broke into a grin. "Of course you're in Slytherin, though. It's where everyone important goes." Seemingly too excited to contain himself, Draco continued. "My family's been in Slytherin House for centuries, we're a very old family, you know. I can tell you everything there is to know, I probably know more than some of the professors."

The bragging - it was like Dudley all over again. Annoyed already, Harry said, "we've met before. I don't know if you remember…the robe shop?"

Draco's grin faded slightly. "Yes…you were with that half-giant, weren't you?"

"Yeah," Harry said shortly, his dislike for Draco Malfoy churning like acid in his gut.

"He's the gamekeeper here, you know," Draco continued, apparently oblivious. "Merlin knows why - my father says he ought to be sacked, it's only because he's best pals with Dumbledore that he stays on. Greatest wizard who ever lived…ha!"

Harry nearly made a sharp retort defending Hagrid, but at that moment two things happened: One, he happened to look up at the staff table, noticing right away that a pale wizard with lank black hair was staring straight at him, his black eyes boring coldly into Harry's. And two, at that same moment, his scar began to prickle and burn.

"What is it?" Draco asked, apparently having noticed Harry's wince of pain.

Harry shook his head. "At the staff table, the wizard with black hair…who is he?"

Draco looked at the staff table briefly, then smiled. "That's Professor Snape, our Head of House. He also teaches Potions. He's an old friend of my father's, back when they were at Hogwarts together. Why do you ask?"

Harry shook his head again, unwilling to take Draco into his confidence. If it were Ron, it would be different, he thought wistfully. "No reason," Harry said finally. "He just seems sort of…scary," he finished lamely.

Draco laughed. "He is, a little. But not to us."

"Why not?"

"Because we're his Slytherins, of course. He looks out for us, unlike everyone else." Draco patted Harry on the arm, much to his incredulity. "Don't worry about old Snape - I'll look out for you."

Harry fought the urge to snort, instead taking another bite of his food. Draco, apparently taking his silence as agreement, grinned broadly.

"First off," he went on, "you have to know who's important – and who's not."

Harry's shoulders tightened.

"You see them over there?" Draco pointed openly across the room. "The whole ginger-headed lot of them are Weasleys. Their father works for the Ministry, you see, and they're purebloods – well, supposedly – but they'll never go anywhere. Next to them – "

"What do you mean, 'purebloods'?" Harry interrupted, nearly trembling with anger. This boy was just like Dudley – a skinnier, more articulate Dudley, to be precise.

Draco stared at him as if he'd grown three heads. "Surely you're joking," he said with a small laugh. "Everybody knows what that means."

"Yeah, well, I'm not everybody, am I," Harry snapped. He stared back.

Looking a bit unsure of himself for the first time, Draco lowered his voice, as if he didn't want others to hear.

"Purebloods are full witches and wizards. It means they don't have any Muggles in their family tree."

Harry remembered Hagrid mentioning that word earlier on. "Non-magic folk", he'd called them. "Why does that matter?" he asked.

"Why does that matter?" Draco puffed out his chest a bit, looking smug. "Because, clearly," he drawled, "since our blood isn't mixed, purebloods are more powerful, smarter – "

He rattled off a few more dramatic adjectives, gaining confidence with each, but Harry had heard enough.

Loudly enough that a few curious heads turned in their direction, Harry said, "would you mind shutting up?" The moment the words left his mouth, Harry was sure someone, most likely a professor, would come swooping down on him, tell him he would go without supper for a week, do extra chores, get up early. But none of that happened.

A couple people snickered, Draco gaped, his jaw literally hanging to his chest before snapping shut.

"What's wrong?" he asked. His face has reddened nearly to the shade of a ripe tomato.

Just then, a new course of food appeared on the tables. Savory aromas wafted to Harry's nose, making his mouth water, at last reminding him of how hungry he actually was. He sighed and glanced at Draco.

"Nothing," he muttered. "I'm just not in the mood to talk right now."

Looking only slightly less crestfallen, Draco smiled awkwardly before turning to his neighbor and launching into an animated conversation about something called Quidditch.

After a final, wistful look toward the Gryffindor table and his would've-been best friend, Harry concentrated on his food, all the while doing his best to ignore the slight burning on his forehead.

*

In Albus Dumbledore's very long life, very few truly surprising events had occurred.

Harry Potter's sorting into Slytherin was not one of them.

It was unfortunate, a bit alarming perhaps, but not altogether surprising. Well, at least not to Albus. From the corner of his eye, he could sense Severus's gaze lingering on the boy, surely wondering how someone who had once defeated the Dark Lord, his old master, could end up in his house. It seemed nonsensical, to say the least. But again, not to Albus. He, and he alone, suspected the reason for Harry's sorting. Oh, he'd taken as many precautions as possible; he'd even left young Harry oblivious as to his true heritage until now, hoping the innate goodness of James and Lily would outweigh any other… tendencies. And that, perhaps, was the most troubling.

Hagrid had seemed quite taken with the boy, raving about what a clever, nice young man he'd turned out to be. Quiet, polite, considerate, and completely befuddled by his newfound fame, Harry sounded as if he were exactly what Albus had been hoping for. And then the Sorting Hat had screamed "Slytherin!". It was most unsettling.

Albus held no unfounded prejudice against Slytherins. Not in the least. He, better than most, understood and even strived for the redemption of that house. He also believed even those who'd gone far down its path of destruction could be saved. But, Harry… Harry, the Boy-Who-Lived, defeater of the Dark Lord, savior of the Wizarding world – would he have to be saved from that path of destruction as well? Albus shook his head. Whatever happened, he would keep a close eye on him from now on.

*

Draco Malfoy could not believe his luck – Harry Potter! In his House! And though he knew that his father would probably have reprimanded him for such behavior, he couldn't help but to chatter and chatter away in his excitement. His father wasn't there, after all, and in every other aspect of life he would behave like the perfect paragon of breeding that he was.

Draco wasn't stupid – he could tell that Harry was still pining away for the Weasley he'd befriended on the train, and perhaps that was the reason why he hadn't responded as enthusiastically to Draco's attempts at conversation as he would have liked. But Draco also knew that he was superior in so many ways to Weasley – smarter, for one, cleaner, definitely, and certainly, much more clever and witty. In no time, Draco was certain that Harry would realize what a perfect best friend he had in Draco.

Draco was absolutely bursting to talk to Harry again by the time they reached their dormitories, but a thin, weedy looking boy beat him to it. The boy had been silent up until that point, choosing a bed and unpacking his trunk quietly, and generally keeping to himself.

"So, you're the one who defeated the Dark Lord," he said matter-of-factly to Harry. "Well, you don't look like much."

Harry bristled. "What?"

The boy shrugged. "Rumor has it that you must be a powerful wizard yourself, to have defeated the Dark Lord when you were just a baby. Some are even saying that you might be the new Dark Lord…just thought I'd find out for myself." The boy looked at Harry expectedly, patiently awaiting his reply.

"Excuse me, who are you?" Draco asked rudely, crossing his arms.

The boy raised his eyebrows, appearing slightly amused. "Theodore Nott. And you are…"

"Draco Malfoy," Draco replied, slightly miffed that the boy hadn't recognized him. "Nott…isn't your father in prison?"

The room fell silent for a moment. Finally, a dark-skinned boy with nearly doll-like features said, "wow."

Theodore simply shrugged. "Yeah, he is. What's it to you?" He then turned back to Harry. "Well, are you the new Dark Lord or not?"

Harry frowned. "Why would I want to be a Dark Lord? My parents are dead because of this…this Dark Lord you're talking about."

"Yeah, and you killed him," Theodore persisted. "So you've got to be pretty powerful. More powerful than Dumbledore, even."

Harry just shrugged, still frowning. "I don't know," he muttered. "I don't really want to talk about it, though."

"But - " Theodore began, but Draco cut him off.

"You heard him, Nott. He doesn't want to talk about it. So, there." Draco resisted the urge to stick his tongue out.

The dark-skinned boy laughed at that, then laughed harder when Theodore strode angrily back to his bed and yanked the curtain shut around himself.

"I'm Blaise, by the way," he introduced himself. "Blaise Zabini."

Remembering himself, Draco indicated to the two large boys hulking behind him - his friends, whom he'd been neglecting all evening. "This here is Vince, and this is Greg. They would have introduced themselves, but they're afraid to talk to new people."

"Draco…" Vince whined softly, invoking another fit of laughter from Blaise.

"Oh, this will be a great year, I can tell," Blaise said happily, falling back onto his pillows.

Stealing a glance at Harry, who was just now settling into his bed, Draco couldn't help but agree.

Author's Note: Please let me know what you think!