Note: A friend of mine challenged me to write a Harry Potter/Gundam Wing crossover, so I did a series of drabbles. There will be more fics in this universe here and there as I write them. If these look like something you read on gw500, or another LJ com, it's probably because they are :P
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The Sorting Hat Series: Trowa Barton
He hadn't had a name, at least not a proper name, when the letter arrived. The school called him John Doe, to call him something, but the letter had been addressed to "The Boy With No Name, Third Bunk, Barton Working School For Lost Boys". He'd figured it was, at best, a cruel joke and destroyed it. A few more like it had arrived, but they all wound up in the incinerator. After that, a woman in a tartan dress and a rather severe bun had shown up to explain things. She had spoken with him quite frankly, and then offered him formally his place at the school. He spent a long time just looking at her, weighing her up without giving anything away. And then he'd nodded. She'd insisted that he couldn't attend classes as "The Boy With No Name", it wouldn't do. So he'd decided to call himself Trowa Barton. Trowa because he liked the sound of it, Barton because he couldn't think of anything better. Then he changed into the one set of clothing not owned by the orphanage, stored the tools he used in the vocational classes, and left the Barton School as easily as he'd arrived.
And now he was standing in a line of other children, at the front of the largest room he had ever seen, waiting for them to do some funny ceremony with a trick hat. He wondered if he should have paid more attention on the train ride, but he'd been tired from the long trip to London and he'd slept in one of the small cars with a few other like minded students. He watched dispassionately as a girl in front of him was declared a Hufflepuff and made her way to a table filled with cheering faces. Another student, this one a Ravenclaw, and now his turn.
The hat was heavier than it looked, and he caught himself thinking that velvet always was, before he put it on. It came down and rested just barely on his ears. And then there was the voice, like rustling velvet or old brocade.
An interesting mind here, the hat said, I see you don't have any preconceived notions of where you belong.
He didn't bother answering, as it seemed fairly self evident.
You're good with animals, I see, that's usually a Hufflepuff quality. There's no history of a wizarding family in you. But over here there's quite a bit of ruthlessness. An absolutely amazing amount, actually. It's quite unusual in some one so young. Oh well, there's nothing for it-
"Slytherin!" The hat shouted.
He didn't smile, or grimace or even shrug at the declaration. It didn't mean anything to him. He just took off the hat, and joined the other students at the green and silver table on the far end of the hall who were cheering loudly on principal.