Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

AN: This chapter was re-uploaded with some minor changes, mainly regarding Harry's conversation with the sorting hat


Harry stood in a cramped room with all the other first years, while Professor McGonagall gave them a speech about the houses and announced that they would be sorted in a few minutes. Harry tried to discreetly flatten his hair, but quickly abandoned it. Everyone in the room looked terrified, and it was dead silent except for Hermione, who was reciting spells, Ron looked like he was going to implode. Their nervousness was contagious, and Harry found himself frozen in place.

The silence was broken rather suddenly however, when a group of ghosts floated into the room and several students shrieked. The ghosts were arguing about someone named Peeves, they eventually noticed the first-years and one started chattering excitedly when Professor McGonagall returned.

'Now form a line,' she told them, 'and follow me,'

It took Harry until most of the other students had made a line to move. He stood behind Ron at the end of the line. As Professor McGonagall led them out of the crowded room and through large double-doors into the Great Hall Harry's vision started to narrow, and he felt as though he was going to throw up.

His mind was temporarily distracted from his internal panic when they entered the Great Hall. It was lit by thousands of floating candles, and the five long tables were set with golden plates and goblets. The first-years were led up to the table at the top of the hall where all the staff sat, and came to a halt in line facing towards the rest of the students and away from the teachers.

Sensing the return of his tunnel vision, Harry looked up towards the ceiling and saw a pure black sky dotted with stars. He heard Hermione whisper that it was bewitched to look like the sky outside according to Hogwarts: A History. It certainly looked convincing. Professor McGonagall put a fraying, patched hat on a stool in front of them, he looked towards the older students, but they were all staring at the hat, so Harry did the same. Soon enough the brim of the hat opened up and it began singing.

'Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!'

The Hall burst into applause when it finished the song, and the hat bowed to the four tables before returning to its previous, innocuous state.

'So we've just got to try on the hat?' Ron whispered to Harry. 'I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll.'

Harry smiled at him, he was glad he didn't have to do a spell, but he was sure the moment the hat was placed on his head it would announce he didn't belong to any house and had to be sent back home in front of the entire Great Hall.

'When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,' declared Professor McGonagall, who was standing be the hat with a long roll of parchment. 'Abbot, Hannah!'

Harry's tunnel vision quickly returned, all he could see was the hat and the head that has wearing it. He suddenly jerked into a panicked alertness though when a Perks, Sally-Anne was called forwards and immediately after she was sorted,

'Potter, Harry'

As soon as his name was called, whispers broke out across the entire Hall and everyone stared at him intensely, twisting in their seats to get a better look at him. Harry took a deep breath as the hat dropped over his eyes and waited.

'Hmm,' said a small voice into his ear, 'Difficult. Very difficult. Not much courage yet, I see. A good mind, though. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – but I can see you doubt yourself, now that's interesting… So where shall I put you?'

Harry gripped the edges of the stool and thought, 'Not Slytherin, not Slytherin,'

'Not Slytherin, eh? You could become great there if you put your mind to it, you know,'

'I'm never going to be great!'

'Well not for some time no… but you have the ambition. When you become yourself you'll fit right in in Slytherin.'

'What do you mean when I become my- '

'SLYTHERIN!'

The hat shouted the last word out to the entire Hall, there was a moment of quiet before everyone broke out into whispers, which escalated into yells as Harry slowly made his way to the Slytherin table, feeling distinctly like there was a weight in his stomach. He sat at the very front on the end of the bench, next to a girl with black hair, wishing he could be farther away from Malfoy and the other Slytherins. It was several minutes before McGonagall managed to get the students to stop talking about Harry in order to continue the Sorting Ceremony.

To distract himself from the rest of the table, he looked up at the staff table. Sitting on the end farthest from him was Hagrid who gave Harry a wave when he caught his eye, he spotted Professor Quirrell as well, looking nervous as usual, and in the center of the table was Dumbledore, looking just like he did on his Chocolate Frog card with his silver hair shining brighter than the ghosts.

Harry looked back towards McGonagall and the sorting hat when Ron's name was called, a second later the hat sorted him into Gryffindor and Harry's heart sank. Blaise Zabini was the last to get sorted and came to sit at the Slytherin table across from Harry.

Dumbledore stood up and beamed at the students, 'Welcome!' he said. 'Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!' he sat back down as everyone applauded, and Harry wondered if he was a bit mad. But he was quickly distracted as the tables filled with food and his mouth watered. He filled his plate with food and began eating, it was delicious.

Everyone around him began to talk with amongst themselves, most of them already knew each other. Some of them shot him strange looks but for the most part they ignored him, the ones near him were turned away from him slightly. So Harry focused on his food and the staff table, which was the only table he could observe without looking past the rest of his house. Hagrid was drinking what was probably alcohol, McGonagall and Dumbledore were talking over their food, and Quirrell was speaking with a greasy haired man who was glaring at him over his hooked nose.

All of a sudden Snape looked away from Quirrell and straight at Harry, who received a splitting pain across the scar on his forehead. He winced in pain and grabbed his forehead until the pain subsided. The girl beside him was giving him a very odd look indeed, so Harry tried to look like it was just a headache and continued to gaze vacantly towards the head table. Snape didn't look at him again.

There was a clear weight in the air around the first-years at his table and he felt distinctly like they would be talking about him if he wasn't sitting next to them. The weight was dissipated though, when Dumbledore stood to give his second speech of the evening.

'Ahem – just a few more words now that we're all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember as well.' Dumbledore shot his twinkling eyes in the direction of the Weasley twins. 'I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of therm. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madame Hooch. And finally, I must tell you this year, the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.

Harry let out a weak 'Heh,' that was met with continued silence from his house mates.

'And before we go to bed let us all sing the school song!' Cried Dumbledore, as the rest of the staff's smiles became forced. Dumbledore flicked his wand and a long golden ribbon flew out and floated above the tables, twisting itself into words. 'Everyone pick their favourite tune, and off we go!'

'Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air,

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot.'

Harry didn't feel much like singing, a sentiment it seemed was shared with his peers, as the only voices coming from the table were far towards the back of the Hall. The last to finish singing were the Weasley twins, who sang to the tune of a slow funeral march. Harry laughed on the inside.

'Ah, music, a magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!'

'First-years over here!' cried out a fifth year girl with long dark hair. 'Welcome to Slytherin! I'm your prefect, Gemma Farley, please follow me,'

Harry felt himself getting sleepy as they walked out into the entrance hall and down into the dungeons but the cold air shocked him awake. He was lagging far behind the rest of the group and from how they were whispering he could guess that they were finally talking about him.

He gradually got closer to them and despite still being rather far behind them, began to make out most of what they were (quite loudly) whispering.

'Do you know how he got into Slytherin?'

'The hat took a while to sort him, I bet he had to beg it to let him in,'

'Well he is a mudblood, so…'

'Did you see him grab his scar?'

After making their way through the labyrinth of dungeon hallways, they came to a halt in front of one of many grey brick walls. 'Aegaius,' Gemma proclaimed. And the wall opened to reveal a large room with green lanterns, windows looking into the lake, and black leather sofas and armchairs.

Gemma pointed the girls down one corridor and the boys down another. Halfway down the hallway they came across the door labelled First-years. Inside they found the bed with their trunk at the end (Harry made sure his was locked), put on their pyjamas, and got into bed, closing green velvet curtains behind them.


The rest of the dorm seemed to sleep soundly, but Harry had nightmares about Gryffindor, Slytherin, Malfoy, and Snape.