None Mine. You know the drill. Please review and all that jazz.
The Second Time Around
"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonnagol's shrill voice resonated through his head, pinging around and around in his brain. Turning slowly to face her, he wiped the look of malicious laughter from his face. "Mr. Potter!" Draco looked amazedly to his left. Much as he hated to admit it, Potter hadn't done anything wrong. He'd only been trying to heave Neville from the trick stair-for the third time this year-that Draco had "accidentally" pushed him into. "Come with me, both of you."
Without even stopping to help Neville, she spun on her heel and started walking briskly down the hall again. The two boys followed, Harry's breathing quick and heavy from the effort. Looking back once over his shoulder, Draco saw Weasley tug hopelessly at Longbottom's sleeve once, then shrug and sit down next to him, staring at the two boy's retreating backs.
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"As you both know, a fifth year Gryfindor boy has left the school this year." Both boys nodded, Harry muttering the word Dean. "Yes, Potter, Mr. Thomas' mother seemed to think he was better suited for Durmstrang's teaching. Poor dear. Anyway, when a student transfers, another must take his place. We will have a new student, starting tomorrow, of your age. He will not be sorted-" She stopped at the boys' identical raised eyebrows. "Only students who begin their magical training at Hogwarts are sorted, boys. I distinctly remember telling you that last year." At their blank expressions, she continued, "So he will not be sorted, but it is Hogwarts policy to pick his house randomly. Your names, along with all of the boys your age, were submitted to a random, uh, what was it called? A "bingo" machine, yes, that was it." Her face showed the mistrust she placed in such a contraption. "And your names were selected. You will both be resorted, and whatever house left with a vacancy will be that of our new student. Now, there's no need to be alarmed!" Both boys had opened their mouths to protest. "Most students, when resorted, are placed exactly where they were to begin with. It is a judge of character, mind you, so you shall have no problems. No arguments, Potter. And, yes, Malfoy, you have to do it. I will see you promptly at nine tonight in the Great Hall. Now, out!"
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Draco couldn't believe it! Of all people, he and Potter! Of course they would be the same. All Malfoys were Slytherins, always had been, and Potter was so obviously a Gryfindor that it may as well have been tattooed on his forehead, next to his hideous scar. And there he sat, trembling, on the stool. He looked like a terrified first year, on display in front of the entire school. No one was even watching, just Snape and McGonnagol, and, of course, Dumbledore. He'd been there for at least five minutes now, eyes screwed up, muttering something to himself. Now, though, Draco saw him visibly relax. The hat straightened up and called out, "Definitely Gryfindor." Harry smiled and flashed the thumbs-up sign to someone in the back of the room. Swiveling in his chair, Draco saw that fool Hagrid, laughing and waving at Harry.
Taking his place on the sorting stool, Draco placed the hat on his head. He was immediately surprised-it felt like someone was in his head with him! The last time he'd been sorted the hat had barely touched him, something he'd been extremely proud of. Now, though, it tightened around his hairline and hunkering down over his face.
Hmm. I remember you. Last time I saw you, you radiated so much Slytherin cockiness I thought I'd slide right off your head. Alas, I can see I should have taken a closer look. Let me see... Draco was disturbed by this tiny voice in his ear. And what did it mean, "A closer look?" He shifted uncomfortably. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt the tickle of sound again in his head. Oh, yes! This is wonderful. I feel such a fool, but it's all better now. No fear, my boy, I've fixed it all. No fear.
With a simple word, one small, uncomplicated word, the Hat ruined Draco Malfoy's life. It's sewn mouth opened wide, but no sound came out. Draco hadn't realized his eyes were closed, but he opened them now, moving in slow motion as they scanned the small crowd of people, from Snape's cold black eyes to McGonegol's distant gray ones, past the brilliant blue of Dumbledore's to lock on the one pair of eyes that realized, in that instant of hesitation, exactly what was to happen. As the two boys stared at each other, in that never ending second of time, both grasped what would happen, what would come of it, and what it could lead to. And both boys waited, their gaze never breaking, for the word that would tear them both apart.
"New orders, teachers. This one is a Gryffindor!"
The Second Time Around
"Mr. Malfoy!" Professor McGonnagol's shrill voice resonated through his head, pinging around and around in his brain. Turning slowly to face her, he wiped the look of malicious laughter from his face. "Mr. Potter!" Draco looked amazedly to his left. Much as he hated to admit it, Potter hadn't done anything wrong. He'd only been trying to heave Neville from the trick stair-for the third time this year-that Draco had "accidentally" pushed him into. "Come with me, both of you."
Without even stopping to help Neville, she spun on her heel and started walking briskly down the hall again. The two boys followed, Harry's breathing quick and heavy from the effort. Looking back once over his shoulder, Draco saw Weasley tug hopelessly at Longbottom's sleeve once, then shrug and sit down next to him, staring at the two boy's retreating backs.
****************************************************************
"As you both know, a fifth year Gryfindor boy has left the school this year." Both boys nodded, Harry muttering the word Dean. "Yes, Potter, Mr. Thomas' mother seemed to think he was better suited for Durmstrang's teaching. Poor dear. Anyway, when a student transfers, another must take his place. We will have a new student, starting tomorrow, of your age. He will not be sorted-" She stopped at the boys' identical raised eyebrows. "Only students who begin their magical training at Hogwarts are sorted, boys. I distinctly remember telling you that last year." At their blank expressions, she continued, "So he will not be sorted, but it is Hogwarts policy to pick his house randomly. Your names, along with all of the boys your age, were submitted to a random, uh, what was it called? A "bingo" machine, yes, that was it." Her face showed the mistrust she placed in such a contraption. "And your names were selected. You will both be resorted, and whatever house left with a vacancy will be that of our new student. Now, there's no need to be alarmed!" Both boys had opened their mouths to protest. "Most students, when resorted, are placed exactly where they were to begin with. It is a judge of character, mind you, so you shall have no problems. No arguments, Potter. And, yes, Malfoy, you have to do it. I will see you promptly at nine tonight in the Great Hall. Now, out!"
**************************************************************
Draco couldn't believe it! Of all people, he and Potter! Of course they would be the same. All Malfoys were Slytherins, always had been, and Potter was so obviously a Gryfindor that it may as well have been tattooed on his forehead, next to his hideous scar. And there he sat, trembling, on the stool. He looked like a terrified first year, on display in front of the entire school. No one was even watching, just Snape and McGonnagol, and, of course, Dumbledore. He'd been there for at least five minutes now, eyes screwed up, muttering something to himself. Now, though, Draco saw him visibly relax. The hat straightened up and called out, "Definitely Gryfindor." Harry smiled and flashed the thumbs-up sign to someone in the back of the room. Swiveling in his chair, Draco saw that fool Hagrid, laughing and waving at Harry.
Taking his place on the sorting stool, Draco placed the hat on his head. He was immediately surprised-it felt like someone was in his head with him! The last time he'd been sorted the hat had barely touched him, something he'd been extremely proud of. Now, though, it tightened around his hairline and hunkering down over his face.
Hmm. I remember you. Last time I saw you, you radiated so much Slytherin cockiness I thought I'd slide right off your head. Alas, I can see I should have taken a closer look. Let me see... Draco was disturbed by this tiny voice in his ear. And what did it mean, "A closer look?" He shifted uncomfortably. After what seemed like an eternity, he felt the tickle of sound again in his head. Oh, yes! This is wonderful. I feel such a fool, but it's all better now. No fear, my boy, I've fixed it all. No fear.
With a simple word, one small, uncomplicated word, the Hat ruined Draco Malfoy's life. It's sewn mouth opened wide, but no sound came out. Draco hadn't realized his eyes were closed, but he opened them now, moving in slow motion as they scanned the small crowd of people, from Snape's cold black eyes to McGonegol's distant gray ones, past the brilliant blue of Dumbledore's to lock on the one pair of eyes that realized, in that instant of hesitation, exactly what was to happen. As the two boys stared at each other, in that never ending second of time, both grasped what would happen, what would come of it, and what it could lead to. And both boys waited, their gaze never breaking, for the word that would tear them both apart.
"New orders, teachers. This one is a Gryffindor!"