Harry Potter does not belong to me and I make no profit off of this story.
The Sorting Hat knew.
The mousy looking eleven year old jumped skittishly when his name was called and then looked around nervously. Annoyed with the wait and anxious for her own turn, the girl behind him gave him a light shove, propelling him forward. Sitting up on the high stool, his feet dangling and the hat riding down over his eyes he looked like he was about to be swallowed up. It was quiet in the Great Hall for a long moment while the hat conversed with itself, making the oh-so-important choice. Then, mind made up, the hat opened its mouth and shouted out in ringing tones.
"Gryffindor!"
"That's a small one. I'll have to make sure he doesn't get lost." Minerva McGonagall said softly to her friend and Headmaster beside her.
"I'm sure he has great hidden potential Minerva. He is, after all, a Gryffindor." Albus Dumbledore replied.
And for the rest of his school days at the great institute of learning known as Hogwarts, that is what he would be known as. The boy who surely had some hidden value.
He was, after all, a Gryffindor.
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