Finally

"Why'd you choose Gryffindor?" Harry asked. He was a thin boy of eleven with messy, black hair and bright green eyes. His nose was thin and he wore round, black glasses that were impossibly thick. They faced the sky, which was a rainbow of indigo and purple and pink and red-orange. He could still make out the moon and a few twinkling stars.

He sat on a blanket beside a silver-haired man. Said man's hair went down his back and his beard went down his front. He was an old man with thin lines and deep wrinkles. His nose was long and crooked and silver, half-moon spectacles were perched upon it. Behind them were wise blue eyes that were never without kindness.

Albus Dumbledore, or Brian as Harry liked to call him, hummed. "Because I am from a long line of Gryffindors."

"And if you could go back and change things?"

Brian turned to look at him. His eyes were intense. They always were when they were upon Harry. "I would change nothing." He sighed. "I lacked wisdom in my youth, but that, fortunately, has come with age. I am heralded as one of the brightest students Hogwarts has ever seen. My mother taught me cunning and I was as ambitious as I was intelligent. I worked hard and was loyal to a fault." He smiled. "Courage is what I lack."

Harry brought his knees to his chest. "What do I lack?"

"Patience." He laughed when Harry scowled at him. "What do you want?"

He raised his arms as if holding a sword. "Where dwell the brave at heart..."

"I suppose one could say you are lacking in chivalry, though, I cannot say Gryffindors have been overly chivalrous. Godric himself was rumored to be a brute." When Harry sighed Brian raised his eyebrows. "What has you up at dawn, Harry?"

"I'm always up at dawn." When Brian continued to stare at him, he said, "I don't know if I can do it. I don't think I can be Albus Dumbledore."

Brian hummed. "I don't think anyone expects you to be Albus Dumbledore. For I am he and you are Harry Potter." Harry glared as Brian chuckled.

"I meant that I don't think I can be the prodigy of a century."

"Forgive me." He laughed a little more then said, "Be the best you you can be – "

Harry shook his head. "That's not enough."

"According to…"

"Everyone not you," he said. He shook his head. "Most think I've been in contact with you and I now have the brother wand of another prodigy. Being the best me might not be good enough."

Brian turned back to the horizon. The sky was now a light blue and the deep blue waters of the Mediterranean were warming under the sun. "Very well, Harry, I will be honest with you. I suppose I owe you honesty on occasion. You are a mysterious figure and Britain is, no doubt, waiting to see what you can do. But, the expectations they have, I am sure, is more than any eleven year old, myself and Tom Riddle included, can live up to. So do your very best because nothing you do could possibly meet their expectations."

He folded his hands. "Fame is…terrible to say the least. Oh, it has its perks and I'm certain you will enjoy all it has to offer, but it comes at a terrible price." He smiled sadly. "People are fools, Harry. Easily swayed fools who don't look beyond the surfaces of headlines and gossip rags. And those who do see the truth of things are often not brave enough to stand in it or speak up."

He ruffled Harry's hair. "I say that so that you can understand that it is…unwise to try to live up to the expectations of fickle strangers you don't know and most of whom you will never meet. Now, that leaves your own expectations."

He shrugged. "I don't have any."

Brian huffed a laugh. "You do. You would not be up at dawn sitting under a tree with an old man if you didn't." He sighed. "Tom and I wanted greatness and were born great. Many want the former, but lack the latter. And if you, Harry Potter, are not great, you will, at the very least, be very good."

"What's that mean?"

Brian hummed. "Maybe not." He chuckled then said, "You are intelligent when you wish to be. And curious to a fault. That is a quarter of the battle. At the moment, you are well read, but even at your young age you understand that not every answer is in a book and you are not without imagination." He held up a finger. "Genius is the marriage of knowledge and creativity. Know that and you may very well meet your expectations. You have the tools, Harry. I promise."

Harry exhaled and his chest loosened up a bit, but he still asked, "What's the difference?"

"The amount of times you have to read something before truly understanding it."

Harry nodded. "Alright."

"Have I assuaged the worst of your fears."

Harry shrugged. "A little. Now I'm afraid it'll take me months to grasp simple things."

Brian sighed and laughed. "I often have to remind myself that you are a brooder and a pessimist." He nodded at the stone villa behind them. "Go back to sleep."

Harry indeed slept for a couple more hours and was awoken a little before nine-thirty British Summer Time. He was freshly showered and well fed by ten.

He shoved his trunk into the Puddlemere rucksack Brian had expanded for him. He then sat on his bed and sighed.

"An eleven year old shouldn't sigh as heavy or as much as you do."

They were in his bedroom, which had a polished, mahogany wood floor and ivory colored walls. His drapes were flowy and light royal blue, which matched the comforter on his bed. Bookcases went around the room and all but one was full of books. He had a desk, which had been cleared of all books, toys, and writing utensils. Only candles, which smelled strongly of vanilla and cinnamon, were on it. Beside it was a tall, glass fronted wardrobe full of clothes.

"I have a lot on my mind," Harry replied. "Puddlemere looks terrible. I had hoped to see them play in the European Cup championship before I die, but alas – "

Brian laughed. "It is not so bad, they just have to win the next four games by an average of two hundred points. Have faith." Harry looked over his glasses at him and he shrugged. "Very well. Put your hopes in ninety-four." He looked at the clock on Harry's wall. "I believe it is time for you to be off."

Harry nodded, stood up, and threw his rucksack over his shoulders. Brian stood as well and, in a moment, Harry found himself swept into a hug. He smelled of pine and subtle lavender.

"Enjoy Hogwarts, Harry," Brian said. "It is a magical place."

Harry snorted as Brian released him. "I will thanks."

Brian ruffled his hair, grabbed his cat's cage then led him over to the wardrobe. It was full of clothes and Harry pushed them to the side. Brian tapped the back wall with his wand. He then handed Harry the cage. "I will miss your company."

Harry smiled. "I'll miss you, too."

With that he stepped through the wardrobe and entered a bare room with the wardrobe, a twin bed, and a rough-looking nightstand.

He rolled his eyes then walked through Four Private Drive, which had salmon-colored walls, polished, brown wood floors, and white trimmings.

He spoke to not a soul in the house, though he doubted anyone besides his aunt was there. He eased out of the front door and walked through the neighborhood which was a few streets lined with identical houses with manicured lawns and luxury cars in the driveway.

He walked all the way to the alley that separated Magnolia Crescent from Wisteria Walk. He looked around then placed his wand in the center of the alleyway.

Bang!

In a moment, he was staring at a purple, triple decker with The Knight Bus written on the side in gold.

A tall, pimple-faced teenager no older than seventeen stepped down. His large ears protruded out from under his bright purple conductors hat, which matched his uniform. "Good morning. Welcome to the Knight Bus, here to pick up any stranded witch and wizard. M'names Stan Shunpike an' I'm your conductor this morning." He looked Harry up and down. "King's Cross?"

Harry nodded.

"Eleven sickles, then. Two more for a cup of hot chocolate and four extra for a hot water bottle an' a tooth brush."

Harry handed him eleven sickles then walked to the middle of the bus. He held onto a railing as he'd been instructed to do. He noticed, and it had been explained, that the seats weren't nailed down. He was tempted to sit, but didn't. He just grinned instead.

Bang!

King's Cross was packed with muggles looking to do their Sunday morning shopping.

Harry strolled through with one hand holding Elvendork's cage and the other swinging freely. He walked down Platform Nine and stopped three quarters down it. He dipped inside an arch then went straight to the wall without stopping.

He didn't close his eyes as he wanted to see what would happen. But it was a flash of darkness then he was on another platform looking at a gleaming, scarlet steam engine where all the doors were open for all the wizards to see the red seats in the compartments.

He looked behind him to see an iron wrought gate where the portal should have been. He wondered how it had been made. He frowned and then wondered which had come first: the portal or the vanishing cabinets.

After a moment of contemplation, he walked over to an empty compartment and sat down.

"Get back here, Davies!" a redhead shouted as she chased behind a handsome, black-haired boy.

For a little while he sat watching people come through the portal. Some did so at break neck speed. He figured those were the muggleborns. Others walked through. He could tell the upper class purebloods from everyone else, too. Most were dressed in silk, satin, or velvet, had their noses in the air and many looked down them with disdain.

He was brought out of his reverie by a knock on the compartment door. A pale woman with long, chocolate curls and pale blue eyes knocked was standing outside it. A boy, with the same hair and eyes, was behind her, blushing and looking everywhere but at him.

"Are you a first year?" she asked.

Harry nodded.

She smiled and sighed. "Can my son sit with you? He's a first year as well…"

Harry nodded. "That's fine."

She placed her son's trunk onto the rafters then looked at Harry before tilting her head. Her eyes went to his forehead, but he'd made sure his fringe covered his forehead completely. "You look very much like your father," she said at last.

Harry raised his eyebrows as her son stepped into the compartment and sat opposite him. "You knew him?"

"We dated in our fifth year," she said. "Insufferable arse that he was." Harry grinned at her and she held out a hand. "Temperance Boot and this is Terry," she said as they shook hands. "Terry, this is Harry."

Her son frowned then his eyes widened. "No way! You're – "

She tugged at his sleeve. "Come, Terry."

He allowed himself to be pulled from the compartment and Harry felt a brief sense of loneliness. It would have been nice to have someone send him off. He turned to Elvendork's cage and let her out. She was a Russian blue with big, green eyes. "You'll have to do, El."

When the train whistled, they returned. The smiling Boot took the seat across from him. "Have a good term, Terry. You, too, Harry."

He looked up to find Mrs. Boot smiling kindly at him. "Thank you," he said.

Boot stood up as his mother closed the door. The train whistled once more then moved, slowly at first then it picked up speed.

When he could no longer see his mother, he sat down with a smile. "Finally."

Harry nodded in agreement. He'd waited eight years for this day and at long last it was here.

"So, Potter, where've you been?"

"France, Greece…"

Boot raised his eyebrows. "You sound like an Englishman."

"I live with a few."

He nodded. "Decided on a house yet?"

"Gryffindor."

"Ravenclaw for me," Boot said. "Whole family's been in there and I want to keep the tradition alive."

Harry nodded and stretched then glanced out the window. They were already out of the city and were now passing by fields with houses atop of hills. He blinked when Boot stood up.

"You play Exploding Snap? Want to go a few rounds?"

The two ended up on the floor with their wands in hand trying to match the shuffling cards before pairs exploded. Somehow their conversation turned to Quidditch and the pair found themselves arguing over the Wimbourn Wasps and Puddlemere.

"Neither will make it to the Euro finals, so it doesn't matter."

Harry shook his head. "Puddlemere looks far better than the Wasps do, so it matters. A lot."

Eventually, the pair sat back in their seats. They'd started in on their lunches by the time the trolley lady came by. Harry bought a bunch of Pumpkin Pasties, Jelly Slugs, Cauldron Cakes, and Chocolate Frogs. He'd also grabbed a bottle of iced pumpkin juice.

"You like Jelly Slugs," Terry observed as he stuffed some in his mouth. "You're going to lose your teeth."

Harry shrugged then swallowed. "Lost a few when I fell off my broom once. Got them back a few minutes later."

"Harry…"

He raised his eyebrows.

"How do you have a broom if you live with muggles?"

Harry snorted as someone knocked on the door. It was a blond boy with a pointed face and cold, gray eyes. His white-blond hair was slicked back and his forehead looked large and shiny because of it. Behind him were two larger boys, who looked as if they were the blond's bodyguards.

"What are your names then?"

Harry and Terry looked at each.

The other boy shrugged. "Terry Boot."

The blond frowned then nodded as if the name met his approval. "Yours?"

"Why?"

"I'm looking for someone."

Harry sighed. "I'll tell you mine if you tell me yours."

The gave a half-hearted shrug. "Draco Malfoy." He pointed at his bodyguards. "Vincent Crabbe." That one was tubby with black hair and a vacant look in his eye. "And Gregory Goyle." He seemed muscular with a thick neck and brown curls.

Out of his peripheral, Harry saw Terry stiffen just so.

"Dudley Dursley," Harry said.

Malfoy smirked then held out his hand. "Finally found you, Potter."

Harry sighed then shook the boy's hand. "How d'you know that?"

"Father has friends in the Ministry," he said with a grin. He sat on Terry's side. "Told me you'd either use Fleamont, Dursley, or Evans."

Harry rubbed his lips. He heard of Lucius Malfoy. He'd been the driving force behind Brian's removal from Hogwarts. While someone had told the elder Malfoy the Dursley name, no one had, apparently, given his location away.

"How can I help you, Malfoy?" he asked.

"Call me Draco, Harry," he said. "And Father wanted me to find you. Introduce you to the Wizarding World. Help you out when you're lost and things like that."

Harry opened his mouth, but after a twitch from Terry he closed it. He paused and considered the ways this could be beneficial to him. Malfoy – Draco – seemed to be a talker. Chances were he'd tell Lucius' business just to brag and he could tell Brian everything he learned.

Harry nodded. "Alright then Mal – err – Draco."

Malfoy grinned then snapped his fingers at his two bodyguards. The two shrugged then disappeared down the corridor.

"So, Harry, what do you know?"

Harry shook his head. "Not much. Why don't tell me about the magical world."

Terry's eyes widened at the implication and Harry felt a bit sorry, so he tossed him a few Chocolate Frogs and a bag of Jelly Slugs.

"Well, your family's old. Not as old as mine. Or as rich, but you should have some money. Richer than Boot here," Malfoy said and Terry's cheeks pinked. "Grandfather calls your ilk 'muggle lovers,'" he laughed.

Harry had to keep his eyebrows from going to his hairline as Malfoy spoke. The blond was a bigot. And he either wasn't smart enough to recognize that he was giving offense or didn't care. Harry felt like it was the former as the boy seemed to think he was making a good impression.

Fortunately, one of his guards returned. "Parkinson's looking for you," Crabbe said. Or at least that's who Harry thought it was.

Draco sighed then looked at his watch. "I must be off. You'll find me down the corridor with Nott, Greengrass, and Parkinson if you want to join me." He looked at Terry. "He can show you who Greengrass is." He snatched a pumpkin pasty then left without closing the door.

"What. A. Cunt," Terry said. "I'll curse his face off one day."

Harry nodded as he closed the door. "Who's Fudge?"

"Cornelius Fudge, Junior Minister in the Department of International Magical Cooperation. He was in the Department of Accidental Magic and Catastrophes, but he was moved when Crouch took over." Terry stretched. "He probably told Malfoy your relatives' names. Or Darius Greengrass. He's head of the Reversal Squad now with Em as head of the Department."

"Em?" Harry asked, knowing exactly who Terry spoke of.

Terry stood up as he said, "Emmeline Vance. She was two years above Mother and your parents. I think she was kinda close to yours. I could introduce you…one day maybe." He pulled out a book from his trunk. "Wanna get ahead in transfiguration." He started to read then looked up. "You never answered my question."

"Which was?"

"How do you have a broom if you were muggle raised?"

Harry smiled then stretched causing Elvendork to glare at him. "That's my secret."

Terry rolled his eyes and went back to his book. Harry shifted then stretched out on the seat. Elvendork curled up on his chest and he closed his eyes.

"'Lo, Neville," Harry heard Terry say.

"You know each other?" a unfamiliar, girlish voice said. "Are you one of those pureblood aristocrats? I'm a muggleborn, you see, so I don't really know the politics here, but I don't think it should matter that my parents are muggles. Some of the most famous wizards have muggleborn parents. Godric Gryffindor himself was a half-blood. Were you doing magic? Well let's see then." After a pause there was, "I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

Harry opened an eye to see Terry blinking. "No, I wasn't doing magic. I was practicing wand movements."

"Have you ever done magic? I tried some at home. I was surprised not to get a warning…"

Terry rubbed his forehead. "They don't send out warnings until after you set foot in Hogwarts."

"How do you know that?"

"I…my father is a Warlock – uhh – he sits on the Wizengamot. So I know a fair bit about how things work."

The girl hummed. "So you are one of those purebloods?"

"Halfblood," he corrected. "But I'm from an old family."

"What about him?"

With one hand on Elvendork, Harry stretched and grunted.

"You and your cat snore."

Harry, rubbing his eyes and yawning, said, "We don't snore. We breathe heavy." He looked at the girl, who was rather plain sign bushy, brown hair and curious brown eyes. "Same." Out of his peripheral, he saw a chubby, round-faced blond in the doorway. That had to be Neville. "Longbottom?"

The boy blinked then nodded. "Y-yes?"

He waved. "Hi." Terry cleared his throat and raised his eyebrows making Harry grin at him. "Harry Potter."

The girl, Granger, perked up. "Harry Potter? The Harry Potter? The Boy Who Lived? I read about you in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts, Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century, and Modern Magical History."

"I also get a mention in Sites of Historical Sorcery and a paragraph in the Top Ten Dark Wizards of All-Time."

Terry coughed.

"Want an autograph, Boot?"

He nodded. "Yes, you don't know how much that'll be worth. I'll be able to buy a Nimbus or two."

Harry rolled his eyes then moved so that Neville could sit. A few of the Order members he'd met had mentioned the Longbottoms and their fates. He looked out the window, the sun was setting. "How much longer?"

Terry looked at his watch. "'Bout a half hour."

Harry nodded. "Spectacular." He grabbed a pumpkin pasty out of his rucksack. "I'm famished."

Granger, after fidgeting in her seat, asked, "What class are you looking forward to? I can't wait for transfiguration. Professor Flitwick said it's one of the harder subjects, but I think it's fascinating how we can change something into something else completely different."

"Herbology," Neville confessed with pink cheeks.

Harry nodded. "Good. You can help me with that. I hate herbology." Terry cleared his throat and Harry laughed.

"Why?" Neville asked. "Plants are fun, especially the magical ones. They have personality."

Harry frowned. "Nasty personalities," he said, remembering an incident with a fanged geranium.

"What are you looking forward to?" Granger repeated.

"Transfiguration, Potions, and Arithmancy in third year."

Terry scrunched up his face. "Potions? Is that because it's the family business?"

"Yes, but I also like them."

"Whatever for?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know. I like working with my hands, I guess; taking things apart to see how they work and putting them back together. And with potions I can look at the ingredients and the numbers involved and figure out what happens if I pull or add a string."

"What do you mean numbers involved?" Granger asked.

"Arithmancy," he said. "Now it's the study of magic in numbers." Seeing her frown he said, "Before it was divination through numbers." The train began to slow and Harry jumped up. "We have to change."

Their two guests left the compartment with Neville asking, "Do you remember where the compartment is?"

As they put on their robes, Terry called, "Harry…"

"Huh?"

"You'll still be my friend no matter where we end up, right?"

Harry blinked then nodded. "Yeah, you can write home and tell 'em you're friends with the Boy Who Lived."

Terry frowned. "That's not what I meant."

He clapped Terry on the shoulder. "I know. Laugh a little."

He'd been forced to accept that his friendships would begin with people wanting to know the Boy Who Lived. He'd just have to feel for who wanted to be his friend and who wanted to use the Boy Who Lived. He wasn't opposed to being used, though. Growing up with a former politician made him keenly aware of the perks of fame.

He then turned to place Elvendork in her cage as the train came to a stop. He grinned at Terry, who exhaled.

"Finally."

The compartment doors opened and they stepped into the cool night. The older students walked past them chattering with their friends.

"Firs' years! Firs' years!"

Harry looked around to see a large man with a shaggy, brown beard and wild hair. He was at least three times the size of the average man.

"He's a giant," Terry whispered.

"Half, I think. Thought it was too rude to ask, though." Terry looked at him and he rolled his eyes. "You want to be a Ravenclaw and you haven't figured it out yet?"

Terry frowned then looked around before saying, "You do know Albus Dumbledore."

"Right in one."

He groaned. "You learned theory from Albus Dumbledore. Transfiguration theory." He nodded. "Go to Gryffindor. Don't need you messing up my prefect chances."

He wanted to say 'and Nicolas Flamel but he thought it would be too much, so he just settled on a grin. "'Fraid of a little competition?"

"Yes."

Harry snorted as they stopped in front of Rubeus Hagrid.

Hagrid winked. "Alrigh', Harry?"

"Spectacular."

A chubby girl with lanky, brown hair and brown eyes ogled him, while opening and closing her mouth.

He ogled her back and pointed.

"You look like a fish, Greengrass," Draco drawled. He threw an arm over Harry's shoulders. "Harry, this Daphne Greengrass," he said. He pointed at a pale, thin girl with black hair, black eyes, and a freckled, pug nose. "Pansy Parkinson." He then pointed at a weedy boy with ash brown hair and bright blue eyes. "Theodore Nott." Beside Nott was a tall, brown-skinned girl with green eyes. "Tracey Davis. And you already know Crabbe and Goyle."

Harry waved at them. "Hello."

"Everyone," Draco paused for drama, "Harry Potter."

He snorted. "Please." He clapped Terry on the shoulder and introduced him. With that, he moved to follow Hagrid to the lake where there were small boats waiting for them. Terry, who'd been a step behind him joined him in one.

"You didn't need to introduce me," he hissed. "I'd have been just fine not knowing them."

"If I have to suffer so do you, friend."

Terry scowled and pushed him.

"Oi!" he said, just keeping himself from falling into the lake. "Prat!"

They were joined by a set of twin girls. The pair had brown skin, and long, lustrous black hair that shined under the full moon.

"Hi," one said. "I'm Parvati Patil and this is Padma."

"Terry Boot and this is Harry Potter," he said. He shook his head at Harry when the girls squealed. "I don't know how you live like this."

Harry snorted. "It has its perks."

As the boat began to move Padma asked, "Either of you want to be in Ravenclaw." When Terry raised his hand she smiled. "Gryffindor for you, Potter?"

"Yup," he said. He turned to stare at the night sky. He made out Draco and Lynx and Cepheus well enough. But as they turned a corner his eyes dropped from the night sky to the stone castle with its tall turrets and towers.

Parvati gasped. "It's beautiful."

Harry agreed. It was stunning set against the full moon. He wondered how it looked from high above with the mountains and forest in the background.

They docked somewhere under the castle then followed Hagrid towards a set of heavy oak doors. He knocked and his large hands made the even larger doors shake.

After a moment, it opened, revealing a diminutive man dressed in midnight blue robes. He looked ridiculous next to Hagrid and, if the snorts and giggles were anything to go by, many shared the sentiment.

Professor Flitwick, as Harry knew him to be, stepped aside and bid them entry.

The Entrance Hall could fit all of Four Privet Drive and the villa in France. The ceiling was high. Too high for him to make anything of it. The grand staircase was made of gleaming, white marble. Behind him were empty hourglasses that framed the doors.

Flitwick led them to a small chamber outside the Great Hall.

"Good evening, children," he said. "I am Professor Flitwick, deputy Headmaster, Head of Ravenclaw House, and Charms professor. In a moment, your sorting will begin. You will find yourself in one of the four houses: Gryffindor, where dwell the brave at heart; Hufflepuff, where the loyal and hard working reside; Ravenclaw, where wit and wisdom are prized; or Slytherin, for the ambitious who use cunning to achieve their ends."

He smiled at them. "But I have found that the best of students are the ones who utilize the prized traits of all the houses. For what is ambition without nerve, hard work, and intelligence?" He looked around at them then looked at his watch. "I will return in a few moments."

Moments turned to minutes, but not that many as Flitwick returned after about five of them. They'd met the House ghosts, so their minds were on other things as they waited.

Flitwick had an old hat, a roll of parchment, and a stool in his hands when he returned. "Come."

They followed him to another set of oak doors, which swung open when he moved his free hand.

Harry gasped.

He'd been told about the ceiling, but it still stole his breath. It was enchanted and was currently velvety black with twinkling dots that represented the stars. The moon was bright and full and clouds were moving around it. It was the night sky and it was stunning.

Hundreds, if not thousands, of candles floated very near the ceiling. Underneath it were five long tables lined with golden dishes. The four vertical ones housed the older students. The professors sat at the horizontal one towards the front.

Flitwick walked to the front and placed the hat on the stool and the old thing began to sing. It sang a song of welcome and introduced the houses to them much like Flitwick had.

When it finished, Flitwick unrolled his parchment. "Abbott, Hannah."

He nudged Terry. "You're like second or third." He snorted when his friend looked at him in horror. "Don't faint."

"Aren't you nervous?"

Harry shook his head. "No. Should I be?"

"Yes," Terry hissed.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Terry moved, but Flitwick said, "Bones, Susan."

Harry patted his shoulder. "Breathe and be happy you're a Boot. Imagine being…Potter or – "

"Zabini," a tall, black boy with glittering black eyes said.

Harry looked at him and grimaced. "That sucks, mate."

Zabini smiled. "Thank you for your sympathy."

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry smiled. "My pleasure. I'm always here to help."

"Boot, Terry."

Harry squeezed his shoulder. "Good luck."

Terry walked over to the stool pale as ever, but he needn't have worried. The hat was on his head for less than ten seconds before, "RAVENCLAW!"

Name after name was called and Harry grew impatient. Fortunately, the names flew off the parchment. Only Neville and Granger, both of whom went to Gryffindor, seemed to have an issue.

In contrast, the hat barely touched Malfoy's head before placing him in Slytherin.

Moon, Nott, and Parkinson followed. Padma joined Terry and Parvati sat by Brown.

"Potter, Harry."

His name echoed around the room. It was whispered at every table multiple times. Some of the students craned their necks to look at him. Other, more bolder ones stood up.

He walked to the stool and sat down. The last thing he saw before the hat blinded him were all eyes on him.

'Hmm,' a voice said in his ear. 'My, my what have we here. Plenty of courage and an abundance of nerve. Intelligent, yes, and talented – oh my goodness, yes – and a thirst to prove yourself. Where shall I put you?'

Gryffindor, he thought.

The hat hummed. 'I can see it. You will do well there. Great even. But, I believe, you will be at your best in Slytherin.'

I will be at my best in Gryffindor, he thought.

'Indeed? You believe so? I don't necessarily disagree…'

His heart beat wildly in his chest. He'd always imagined himself as a Gryffindor. The greatest Gryffindor since Godric. He rolled his eyes. Or Brian, he supposed. He would be the best in transfiguration and potions and everything else. He'd follow in the footsteps of his parents and the Potters who came before him and he couldn't imagine anything else.

The hat hummed as Harry set his jaw. Very well, Potter, your wish is my command. "GRYFFINDOR!"