DISCLAIMER: Sadly, I am not J.K. Rowling, and I'm not rich enough to own Harry Potter.
POV HARRY POTTER
I walked into Diagon Alley. People in billowing cloaks walked by hurriedly.
"Harry, go in to Madam Malkin's. Tell 'er you need yer school robes, she'll know what to do," Hagrid told me.
"Okay," I responded, and headed into the shop that had a sign that read 'Madam Malkin's Robes For All Occasions'.
Inside, a boy with pasty skin and slicked-back blonde hair stood on a small platform.
His sleeves were rolled up, and he was rubbing his arms.
They were covered in what looked to be scratch marks.
"Mother, my arms hurt," he whined, addressing a slim woman over in the corner.
"Draco, I've told you that the peacocks won't listen!" she said back.
"But of course they will, Mother!" he cried back.
"Merlin's beard, Draco! You can't form an army out of Malfoy Manor's peacocks!" she cried out.
I laughed.
Choking on the hilarity of the situation, tears sprung from my eyes.
An army out of peacocks?
You're kidding.
If he wasn't an idiot, he surely would've used something more sensible, like dogs.
Heck, even chinchillas would be better than peacocks.
A chinchilla army!
Wow.
Now that's an idea.
LATER THAT DAY, AT HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY
POV MINERVA MCGONAGALL
I looked down at the parchment that had the names of the students who were to be sorted.
My eyes drifted to the next name.
I breathed in sharply.
"Harry Potter," I whispered to myself.
I cleared my throat.
"Potter, Harry!" I called out.
A small boy with unruly hair and piercing green eyes stumbled forward.
He sat on the stool, and I placed the frayed Sorting Hat on his head.
POV HARRY POTTER
The Sorting Hat touched down on my head.
I was sweating, and I wiped my palms on my robes.
Suddenly, a sly voice spoke.
"Ah, Harry Potter. I was wondering when I would be sorting you. Now, let's see. Plenty of courage, but everyone has that. Ah. A thirst to prove yourself. To live up to your expectations. Not as strong in the logic department. Not Ravenclaw for you. Nor Hufflepuff, I think. Bravery is more important to you than loyalty. But Gryffindor or Slytherin? Hmm. Let me think."
It went quite.
By now, my face was the color of the Gryffindor banner above their table.
"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat suddenly shouted.
Whispers slithered through the crowd.
Hesitantly, I looked over at Ron.
He looked worried.
After all, he had told me that all his brothers had been Gryffindor, and that he would too.
What was I going to do?
