Harry Potter and all associated characters are the property of JK Rowling.
This story belongs to MinaandChao. I make no claim to ownership.
Chapter 2: Sorting Things Out
The children climbed the stairs, winding and old, up to the castle, before they were lead through the Entrance Hall and dropped off to a witch they didn't catch the name of. She and Hagrid spoke briefly before Hagrid lumbered off, leaving the First Years, anxious and wide-eyed, with her. She began walking and they scrambled to keep up with her as she led them up winding stairs, welcoming them and talking about the school. Finally they reached a door, and she talked about the Houses before telling them to wait as she ducked inside the Great Hall.
Harry looked around nervously. He wasn't sure what House he would be in. He recalled Draco saying that he hoped to be put in Slytherin, but he also remembered Hagrid saying You-Know-Who had been in that house. That Slytherin had been home to Dark Wizards. Draco didn't seem like that, though...
Before he could come to any decision, there was a part in the waiting children as the red haired boy he'd come onto the platform with pushed his way up to him. His wide blue eyes took in Harry and he frowned slightly. "Why didn't you say you're Harry Potter at the station?" He asked.
Swallowing uncomfortably, Harry's eyes darted around, taking in all the children who were now whispering excitedly. Beside him, Draco tensed, posture subtly switching from normal to a more posh and dignified pose. The blonde glared at the newcomer, but he was only paying attention to Harry.
"There really wasn't time." He mumbled, backing up a step.
The boy matched his movement, pressing up closer to him. "You should have sat with me, mate. Since we met before the train and all." He seemed friendly enough as he thrust out a hand to shake, but he was so loud and bright that it was a bit like walking into the sun after being in a dark room. Harry took the hand anyway, smiling a bit at him. "Ron Weasley is my name, by the way." He grinned at Harry for a moment, but then looked over his shoulder and scowled. Harry turned to head to look back at Draco, and saw the expression of distaste on the blonde's face. "I think I know who you are. You're Malfoy, aren't you?"
"Correct." Draco drawled, his mannerisms so different now than in the compartment that it was somewhat startling.
Ron's scowl deepened. "My dad warned me about you. He said the Malfoys are all Dark, through and through. You should watch out for him, Harry."
Frowning, Harry stepped away from him and towards Draco. "Draco has been really nice to me. I don't appreciate you talking about him that way." Harry could almost feel the waves of smugness coming of Draco, but decided to deal with that later, instead glaring at Ron, who looked flabbergasted and a bit insulted. He looked like he wanted to object, but just then the doors opened and a stern looking woman peered through. She introduced herself as Professor McGonagall and promptly hustled them out the doors and into the Hall.
The long tables were near full with students clad in black robes, and all of them were staring right at the First Years. Harry tried to shrink back a bit, but Draco seemed to flourish a bit in the attention and stood up straighter, hustling Harry a bit as he tried to get up front faster.
Professor McGonagall hustled out to the front, standing next to a filthy hat on a stool. For a brief moment Harry wondered what exactly they were up to, but then it's brim split and it burst into song.
The song itself was something about the sorting, and the different traits of the houses, but Harry's head was swimming with nerves and excitement, and he barely caught any of it. Once it ended, the students clapped politely, and then McGonagall pulled a list out and began reading.
First up with Abbot, Hannah, a small blonde girl with hair in pigtails. She was sorted into "HUFFLEPUFF!". One by one the various students were sorted into one of the four houses. When Granger, Hermione was called, the bushy-haired girl from the train dashed forward, looking so excited she might explode. When the hat sorted her into Gryffindor after a short pause, she grinned widely and scampered off to the applauding table. Draco followed shortly after, and the hat was barely on his head before he was sent on his way to Slytherin with a smirk.
Finally it was Harry's turn. He walked up slowly, indecision still churning in his stomach. He settled down on the stool, and the hat was placed on his head. Blocking his eyes from the stares of everyone in the Hall.
Hm...You are an interesting boy, Mr. Potter. He heard. Harry's eye's darted up as he realized that was the Hat speaking. In his head, no less. Let's see what we've got here. A nice mind, no doubt about that. A bit nervous, but that's certainly to be expected. It seems you've got a bit of a thirst to prove yourself. That Half-blood business has you quite bothered, I see. And...Oh, what's this? You have the potential to be great, Mr. Potter, and Slytherin could certainly help you on your way.
Hagrid's words flashed through his head again, and he frowned. He didn't want to go Dark. Oh, don't worry about that. No one House has a monopoly on evil, Mr. Potter, nor does one have only good. Everyone chooses their own path, after all. That did make him feel slightly better. Sounds like we have a decision, then. Good luck to you. "SLYTHERIN!"
The hall was dead silent.
Harry slipped the hat off and handed it to McGonagall, who took it numbly, staring at him in open shock. Harry walked over to the table Draco had gone to before, shoulders hunching a bit more with each step. He was nearly halfway there before Draco stood up and started clapping wildly.
As if that had broken the spell, the rest of Slytherin started clapping too, at first quietly, and then more enthusiastically. Draco scooted over so Harry could sit next to him, and the dark-haired boy did with a thankful grin.
There was a long moment as McGonagall stood there, rooted in place. She turned her head and looked back at the table full of teachers behind her, before she finally cleared her throat and moved on to the next student. Slowly the rest filtered off and Harry peered up at the table full of teachers. He spotted Hagrid, who smiled when he noticed him looking and gave a tiny wave with his great hand, which settled Harry's nerves quite a bit. Harry noticed another teacher talking to Professor Quirrell, who he remembered from the Leaky Cauldron and the man stopped mid-sentence and sat up straighter.
"Draco, do you know who that is?"
Draco turned his head - he had been talking to Blaise, and followed Harry's eyes. "That's Professor Snape. He teaches potions. He's our Head of House."
Harry nodded faintly and turned his eyes to look at the teacher again, who had resumed his conversation with Quirrell. A sudden bolt of pain ran through Harry, like liquid fire up his spine before it settled on his scar. Harry winced and touched at his scar gingerly, afraid that it had suddenly started bleeding or burning.
"You alright, Harry?"
Harry shook himself out of his daze at Draco's voice and looked back to the blonde. He nodded again and made a noncommittal noise. After a moment the searing pain vanished and Harry tuned into the sound of Dumbledore speaking. He said nonsensical words and suddenly their plates were filled with roast chicken, potatoes, gravy. Harry was still hungry - the sweets on the train hadn't been very filling - and he dove in with a contained, but voracious hunger.
"So," Draco asked, holding up a side plate as the salad served itself before pouring on some dressing. "What's it like living with Muggles?"
"It's all I know. They don't have magic, so they do everything themselves. Or they have machines do it. They're..." Harry paused as peas and carrots spooned themselves onto his plate. "Machines are like... these devices that help Muggles do things they couldn't otherwise. They use them for washing, or talking over great distances."
"That's funny. They don't use brooms or Floo or anything?"
Harry didn't know what Floo was, but he wasn't going to ask at a table full of people who knew. "No. They have cars, and buses, and trains, and aeroplanes."
"What do Muggles do? Like, what are their jobs?"
"My uncle works for a company, in an office. Why, what does your father do?"
"He doesn't work. He donates money and time for St. Mungos and for the Ministry of Magic."
"The what?"
Draco took several forkfuls of salad and a long drink of pumpkin juice before he started prattling off information about the Ministry of Magic, what it did, how it worked, and why some of it - in his opinion - was stupid.
Conversation flowed fairly easily, as the First Years and the occasional older student talked about their lives, once in a while stopping to explain what something was for Harry. The older students tended to look irritated whenever they had to do that, but either because he was Harry Potter or because he was sitting next to Draco, whose family was apparently quite affluent, they never said anything about it.
Finally, dinner came to a close, and the Slytherins were directed down stairs to the dungeons. It was a bit of a trip, and Harry worried that he'd never be able to find his way back. Neither Draco or Pansy seemed to have this fear as they chatted merrily, but Harry saw Blaise Zabini's face, and he seemed to be carefully memorizing each turn as if his life depended on it.
Eventually they reached a space in the wall - one that seemed rather ordinary to Harry, so far was any place with moving portraits and teleporting doors could be, but one of the older students - this one wearing a badge that labeled them a Prefect, announced 'Ashwinder', and a passageway appeared.
When they entered the common room, there was an awed moment as the students took in the ancient, regal furniture, and the windows, through which fish could be seen darting around - apparently they were directly under the lake.
Before he could properly take in the entire room, there was the sound of footsteps and Professor Snape entered the room, black cloak billowing out dramatically as he moved. He moved passed the gathered students until he was in plain view of everyone, before clearing his throat.
"Welcome to Hogwarts. A few words before you all head to your dorms, if you please. For the First Years, I would like to make note of a few...rules, for you. When you are in the school, you act as examples of this House. That means that any rule-breaking or dunderheaded decisions reflect on all of us, including me." The last word was snapped out, and the First Years all watched him with wide, slightly frightened eyes. "Also, make note that the Prefects and are here to make your transition as simple as possible, but do keep in mind that you are not the only one who may need assistance." His dark eyes roved over Draco, who tensed slightly, and then settled on Harry for a moment. He met the Professor's eyes for a second, before ducking his head and lacing his hands together nervously. There was a pause, as the words soaked in, before Snape nodded. "Very well. I wish you good luck for your stay at Hogwarts. Ah, Mr. Potter." He drawled the word like it left a bad taste in his mouth. "A word, if you would."
Harry gulped and nodded, following the Professor as he lead him back out the passageway and into a room just down the hall. Judging by the desk and shelves it was the man's office. "Yes, sir?" He asked, the words nearly getting stuck in his throat. The man was very intimidating, if nothing else.
"I simply wish to warn you, Mr. Potter, that your celebrity status will not have the weight I believe you think it will here. As I don't wish to have to deal with the repercussions of you throwing your name around, I will tell you this now. Do not."
Honest confusion shining out of his eyes, Harry looked up at the man. "Why would I do that, sir?" Snape blinked at him, looking slightly confused that he'd even asked that question. When he started to frown Harry continued. "If I use my...celebrity-ness to try to get people to do stuff, then they'll only be doing it because...Well, because a title told them to. Does that make sense?" He paused and looked down, before looking back up. "I don't want them to like me because I'm the Boy-Who-Lived. I didn't even know that until a month ago. I want them to like me because I've earned it." Feeling awkward, he shrugged and shrank back a bit. He'd said more than he meant to. It was the most he'd spoken to an adult in ages. Usually if he talked too long Uncle Vernon would take a swipe at him, and he tensed up in reflex, preparing to dodge if Snape was the same way.
Snape was staring at him, dark eyes unreadable, and they searched his face, seeming to look for something. Harry didn't know if he'd found it or not, but the professor took a step back and nodded at him. "Very well, Mr. Potter. Carry on, then." Clearly dismissed, Harry nodded and murmured a polite good-bye before retreated back into the common room.
He was beginning to despair of ever fitting in here.