A/N I don't own Harry Potter. Please reveiw, I just made (virtual) sugar cookies and I'm giving them out to reviewers. What do you think of how the Sorting Hat punished Draco?
I was waiting outside the Great Hall. Other first-years-to-be were speculating on how they would be Sorted. The Weasel thought they would have to wrestle a troll. How small of a brain did he have? I knew, of course, how we would be Sorted. Father had told me. Mother had not wanted him to 'ruin the surprise,' but I am a Malfoy, and Malfoys know everything. Or that's what others believe. The Gryffindor Head of House led us into the Great Hall to be Sorted. I waited until I heard my name called and then I sat on the stool with the hat on my head. I'm destined for Slytherin. Every person of my status goes there. It would be torture to be in another House, so Sort me already, you stupid thing. It didn't seem to like being called stupid. Stupid, am I? You tell that to the thing that decides where you'll be and who you'll sit by for the next seven years? How insolent! You need an attitude adjustment. The other Houses are perfectly fine. Some say Slytherin is where evil people go. You aren't evil. You're just spoiled and moody. So that leaves Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Gryffindor. I doubt you're intelligent enough for Ravenclaw, and you certainly aren't friendly enough for Hufflepuff. So that leaves GRYFFINDOR! My eyes widened. So did everyone else's. Then laughter rang out. An older Slytherin had started it, and then all the Slytherins were laughing. Then the Ravenclaws, the teachers, the kids not yet sorted, and finally, the Hufflepuffs. The only ones not laughing were the Gryffindors, Professor Snape, and the thing that was to be my Head of House. I took off the hat and slunk off to the Gryffindor table, the Weasel's mouth hanging open. Eventually, everyone was Sorted and Dumbledore gave a speech. Food appeared on the tables. I scooped myself some vegetables and grabbed a piece of chicken. I moodily picked at it. A redheaded prefect led us to a portrait of a fat woman in pink. The older Weasel announced to us that the password was 'Caput Draconis.' The last word was my first name. It was awkward. The room was red, with a yellowish-gold wood trim. The floor was the same wood, but had a large red rug in the center of the Common Room. Older children were occupying the chairs. I followed my new housemates up to our dorm. This room was circular and had six four-posters in it, our trunks against one wall. The four posters had hideous red hangings and an image of a lion on the inside of the door. I grabbed a roll of parchment, a quill, and a bottle of ink. I began writing.
Dear Father,
I am writing to you to tell you that the dratted hat put me in Gryffindor. It's horrid. Whoever decorated the rooms went overboard on red and gold. You have great power in influencing things at Hogwarts. May you convince Dumbledore or the governors to put me in Slytherin?
Your son,
Draco