The Sorting Hat sat upon its throne. His small steps and quick breath sounded loud compared to the quiet which filled the room after the last round of applause. Every word he ever heard about Hogwarts and its houses threatened to swallow him whole.
Ron Weasley wanted desperately to achieve all that his brothers achieved and more. He need to achieve more than any other Weasley. The youngest son but not the youngest child, his unique spot in the house disappeared before it even fermented properly.
The small, red-haired boy struggled to sit on the chair. I can't end up in Hufflepuff, Ron shivered at the thought. Fred and George would never let him live it down. His eyes scanned over the tables, taking in each group of students. Ravenclaw wouldn't be so bad. In fact, his mind wondered if it might stop Fred and George, and everyone else, from treating him like such an idiot. Hours existed between the span when settled onto the chair and the professor placed the hat upon his head. Ron thought of the bushy-haired girl from the train, how stupid he felt when the spell didn't work. Definitely not Hufflepuff, Ron grimaced. Really, on the surface of his mind, Ron Weasley wanted to be Gryffindor. His family would be proud of him. Deeper than that, Ron knew his position as just another Weasley would be cemented if he was put in Gryffindor. What's another red-haired Weasley in Gryffindor?
The hat finally met his head. The hat hummed, and Ron's hands shook. Nerves shot through him as his place in Hogwarts sitting there waited for the decision of a hat. Ron stared out at all those students whose eyes waited for his fate to be sealed. His eyes caught sight of Harry Potter, who already proved to be someone Ron could be friends with. Imagine Ronald Weasley, friends with the Boy-Who-Lived!
"Well, another Weasley. Full of courage as always, but there's something else here. Something different," the Sorting Hat mused in his ear. Gryffindor it is then, Ron thought with a sigh, but at least it isn't-
"SLYTHERIN!" The Hat shouted without any further consideration. Jaws dropped on the red-haired boys in the room, as well as all that knew them, even as cheers erupted from the green shrouded table.
"There m-must be a m-mistake," Ron stuttered.
"The Sorting Hat never makes mistakes. Off you go, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, grasping the hat off his head. He didn't notice the frown and furrowed brow distorted the Head of Gryffindor's face; shock overwhelmed him. Ron didn't know what else to do, so he stumbled off the stool. The Weasley twins gaped as their younger brother, paled to a faint white, made his way to his new house table. It made no sense; all Weasleys, even Percy, were sorted into Gryffindor. How could the youngest brother not? Ron took the seat next to the infamous Malfoy, who showed glee at the turn of events.
"Well, it looks like there might be a decent Weasley after all," Draco whispered. Ron's eyes connected with the ice blue eyes next to him, and his face screwed in disgust.
"Funny, I still have yet to see a decent Malfoy." Draco's eyes narrowed, but he turned back to clap for Blaise Zabini's sorting into Slytherin.