A/N: Again, this is a trial story and so far I'm liking it. But reviews will definitely help! So leave them, please. Good or bad. I want to hear whatever you have to say!


"Muggles." The tall blond man spat it out like it was acid on his tongue. His eyes a bit narrowed, Harry watched him look down on all the people with a smug look. As they walked through Kings Cross, Mr. Malfoy couldn't help himself, apparently. He walked with an air of importance, shoving past anyone in his way. Though his son stared up at him in adoration, the other boy in their group was a bit disappointed in his company.

Why was it so easy for them to deem themselves higher than any of these other, 'regular' people?

But Harry would never voice these thoughts aloud. Father would be disappointed and turn a blind eye to any punishment the Malfoy family saw fit for such a betrayal.

"Come now, Harry. Walk faster." Lost in his thoughts, he had to be prodded forward by Mrs. Malfoy's gentle hands. He quickened his pace, passing easily through the barrier to Platform 9 ¾. It didn't faze him one bit, though he'd never been through it before. Nothing magical really ever surprised him anymore. It was part of a normal life.

The lack of affection between the Malfoys and their child, Draco, was less than shocking as well. If his own father would have been able to see him off at the train, he was sure things would have been the same way. A little bit of an awkward 'goodbye' and then a quick ushering onto the Hogwarts Express.

The two boys were finding a compartment long before they even needed to be. They sat down opposite one another. All alone. And for the longest time, Harry said not a word to the other. He was eerily silent today, actually. Being his closest friend, Draco could instantly pick up why. But he wasn't the type to question such trivial things as feelings. He would rather change the subject to something more comfortable.

"Hey, Harry. Look." Draco nodded out the window and Harry focused his eyes on the image outside rather than the glass. In their view was a rather large family. Quickly, he had to count just how many there were. Four boys and a little girl following behind, completed by a set of parents. All looking ragged, all with flaming red hair. All quite pathetic to the eye. Harry couldn't help the snort that slipped from him. As his eyes met Draco's, he covered his mouth to keep any more from escaping, although the deep sneer on the other's face wasn't helping. "They're the Weasleys. They have like...seven children. And their poor as dirt. It's so..." He made a throaty noise of disgust that Harry couldn't help but to agree with.

So, maybe he was a bit like Lucius Malfoy. He did feel a little superior, to people like this at least. But it was sort of easy to pity people like this. Maybe if he hadn't grown up playing at the Malfoy Manor, surrounded by luxury, things would be a bit different. After all, he wasn't completely rich himself. His father did better than these people seemed to do, though. He at least had enough money to buy new clothes for his child.

"What's sad is they're all in Gryffindor so far. Apparently there's one in our year. But I bet he'll be one, as well. And his filthy sister after him." Draco rolled his eyes and slammed down the shade. Just looking at family was clearly stressing him out.

"You're hoping for Slytherin."

"I'm counting on it." A quite creepy grin crossed Draco's lips. It was so infectious that Harry caught it as well. It was expected of both of them to be in Slytherin. It was important to their parents and therefore it was important to the boys.

The rest of the train ride, the atmosphere of their compartment stayed much the same. Before they left the station, the two boys were joined by Crabbe and Goyle. They were like their lackies. Big, dumb guys who went along with anything Harry or Draco were to say. That's really all they were there for.

By the time they reached the castle, however, Harry's mood started to drift down again. He rode beside Draco in the boat, following him along like a little puppy. When everyone was standing outside the Great Hall, giggling and gossiping about what house was best, Harry couldn't stop zoning at the ground. He was actually a bit bored with the castle. This was like his second home in the summer. So, the beautiful halls and walls decorated with talking portraits were nothing but normal to him.

The only time he looked up was when Draco nudged him so he could mess with someone. The Weasley boy. Harry watched in mild amusement as he picked on the boy's clothes, hair, family. Anything he could grasp at to make that freckled face turn red. And he was doing quite a good job at it. The only reason he stopped was to turn and look at a professor clearing their throat. Harry turned to give a small smile to Minerva McGonagall. She didn't return it, however. Instead she began listing off rules and things, and he found himself tuning out once more.

They first years began walking into the Great Hall, all eyes staring at them. It was like they were fresh meat here. A thing to be gawked at. Harry watched his feet as he walked, again not stunned by the look of the hall. All of the other eleven-year-olds were busy looking up at the floating candles and weather-reflecting ceiling. This was also something he had seen too many times before to even care about it.

Another reason for keeping his eyes down was the man staring directly at him. He could feel it, even without meeting those beady, black orbs. The pressure was on right now. In the matter of a few minutes he would be sitting up on that stool, being told where he was supposed to spend the next seven years of his life.

Slytherin... Slytherin... It must be Slytherin.

The nerves built up to an almost unbearable point as Harry heard everyone else being sorted. Of course, Draco was in Slytherin. Did that hold some hope for him as well? For the most part, he didn't care about the rest. Crabbe and Goyle followed Draco, which was expected. And the other of the children were slowly picked off into the four houses.

Until there was only three students left to be sorted.

"Harry Snape."

The hall drew quiet as the boy with the scar drew forward. Apparently no one realized he was to be attending this year. Of course Draco wouldn't be one to brag about it, seeing as what this boy had done at such a young age was seen as shameful. And that's exactly what Harry felt. He walked forward with his head hung, looking up only in time to see a slow nod from his father. He straightened his back a bit, for appearances, and sat upon the stool. All eyes were settled on him. And why shouldn't they be?

He was a legend.

A soft, slinky voice in his ear tore all thoughts away from the present world. "Ah...young Snape. I've been waiting to be atop your head for years. Hm...yes... You will be difficult. I think..."

"Slytherin. Please be Slytherin," Harry found himself whispering, closing his eyes and wishing for it with all that he had. It was important."

There was a small pause, as if the hat were really thinking it over. But what he shouted out for the whole hall to hear was not what Harry wanted. It was quite the opposite, really. And as soon as that one horrible word left the fabricated mouth, the boy could feel his heart beating with a dangerous intensity. He stood, ears filled with a mixture of boos and approving clapping. Even through the noise, though, all he could focus on was the disapproving look on Severus Snape's face.

Wrong... Wrong! This is all wrong!

Harry didn't want to leave the stool. He was safe here. And maybe he could get the hat to choose a different house. But Professor McGonagall was already ushering him off. He had no choice but to make his way to the table underneath the red and gold banners.

His heart was heavy, as was his footsteps, when he passed by Draco. A deep seething was roosted in his expression. Though he couldn't tell who the anger was directed at. It wasn't really Harry's fault, was it? He couldn't help what house he had been sorted into.

A girl with wild, brown, wavy hair took his hand and yanked him into an empty spot beside her. Apparently he was distracting from the remaining two students. He slowly, mechanically, moved himself into a more comfortable position on the bench and stared daggers down at his plate.

Gryffindor! There is absolutely no reason for this. Father will be so mad... Maybe he could take it up with Dumbledore. This is just all wrong.

Dully, he noted that said man was now making a speech in the background. A short one that included nothing but nonsensical words. It was slightly irritating, the way he spoke them with pride.

Once he had finished, food appeared on the tables and everyone felt free to talk. The students around him felt free to gush about him in particular.

"Harry Snape! Can you believe it? Harry got into Gryffindor!"

"Well, of course he did! He's a hero!"

"It's bloody brilliant."

"Obviously Harry would be a Gryffindor. Someone of his ability and power couldn't be placed just anywhere."

"But his dad's the head of..."

Whoever was beginning to speak that line was cut off by Harry's menacing glare. He had finally looked up to see who surrounded him. Red hair... Weasleys. And the girl who he vaguely recalled talked too much. Disappointing company for him. He wasn't proud of this and would just as soon leave. Except...he had no idea where the Gryffindor common rooms were. He could make his way to Slytherin dungeons in his sleep. But this was all foreign to him. So he was forced to sit here, watching the youngest of the Weasley boys stuffing his face with everything possible. It was revolting.

"It's not something to be ashamed of, Harry."

Harry jumped and looked over at the girl. She had whispered it so softly that he wasn't sure I she had even said it. Not something to be ashamed of? What did this girl know?

Nothing.

"I'm Hermione Granger, by the way." The smile upon her lips seemed genuine. He nodded at her, and then turned to his empty plate. Though he was hungry, he couldn't bring himself to eat anything. That didn't stop this girl from loading his plate up with turkey, mashed potatoes, carrots, everything. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself. After all, your mother was a Gryffindor, right?"

Mother?

"She was?"

This stunned Hermione into silence for a moment. He figured she couldn't tell if he was being serious or not. But he was. He had no idea that his mother had been in Gryffindor. He had just always assumed...

"Of course she was." The girl smiled, then went back to her own food. This little bit of information, meant to reassure him, only brought on more confusion for Harry. He frowned, taking small bites of food as he thought and thought about this.

Harry didn't know much about his mother. He knew her name was Lily, he had her eyes, and she was beautiful. Why hadn't Father mentioned that she was a Gryffindor. He always acted like it was such a shameful house. Slytherin was the only way. What was so wrong about Gryffindor if his own mother had been in it?

A sharp pain ringing through his scar stopped Harry from being able to ponder this further. He hissed and looked up at the head table, seeing that Professor Dumbledore was speaking one again. He had recited the castle rules and welcomed all new and returning students. Then there was the need for introducing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, which had apparently become an annual tradition. That was when he had felt the sting, though he wasn't sure what it was.

He watched the man, Professor Quirrell intensely for a moment, rubbing at his scar. The pain had receded, but he could still feel it. It was like someone had taken a white-hot poker to his forehead. He has spoken to Quirrell many times, as he had been the Muggle Studies teacher before, and never had a reaction like this.

The moment his father's eyes cut to him, however, Harry dropped his hand and did his best to look normal. To appear fine. There was a calculating look in Professor Snape's eyes that he wasn't all too sure of.

He didn't have to worry much longer for they were soon singing the school song and being ushered off to bed. There wasn't so much as a second to go apologize to his father before one of the Weasley children were ushering him to their dormitories. He tried for a smile at the Potions Master, but he wasn't looking. He was talking with Professor Quirrell, absorbed in his conversation apparently.

There were a whole slew of questions Harry wanted to ask his father before bed. They were sure to gnaw him raw tonight. But what could he do? He was in Gryffindor and therefore would not be permitted to sneak down to the Slytherin dungeons. It would have to wait until morning.