A Question of Housing
A house is made of walls and beams; a house is built with love and dreams. - Anonymous
"You don't want to be Sorted?" Dumbledore asked a little bewildered.
It was dinner time at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, about a month before school started for a now eleven-year-old Harry Potter. He, of course, having been present for previous Sortings, knew what would occur at the Welcoming Feast.
However, he had long since decided that if he entered any House, many of the teachers would be highly displeased. If he made it into Gryffindor, McGonagall would get this evil glint in her eye, and would resume her House Rivalry with Snape. If he made it into Slytherin, Snape would become triumphant, and McGonagall's pranking tendencies would come out. If he was Sorted into Hufflepuff, Sprout would pretend to be humble about the fact, but rub it into Flitwick's face later. And if he made it into Ravenclaw, Flitwick would get this smug smile on his face and mumble nonstop about "the power of knowledge prevailing."
Yes, Harry did not want to deal with that. Or the explosions that might follow afterwards.
"Well, it's not that I don't want to," Harry explained, from where he sat in between McGonagall and Dumbledore. "It's that I can't."
"Why?" McGonagall asked.
Harry's eye twitched. He mumbled something along the line of, "explosions" and "effing crazy family."
Dumbledore blinked, and then chuckled, apparently catching onto Harry's meaning. McGonagall just looked confused.
"What will the other students say, though?" McGonagall asked.
"Eh, I'll just pull the whole pity card on them. You know, about being the Boy-Who-Lived without parents and what not, killed off the famous Dark Lord. Yeah." Harry shrugged.
McGonagall stared at him, probably wondering when he became so manipulating. Her eyes moved to the oblivious Headmaster, who was still chuckling to himself. Harry giggled under his breath; apparently, she had figured it out. They thought Snape was bad? Ha! The Slytherin Head had nothing on the Headmaster.
Although, Harry thought, pouting slightly, Dumbledore refused to teach him the twinkling technique. How disappointing. That thing was disturbing.
"Well, I suppose if you just kept your own quarters it doesn't matter," McGonagall muttered, bringing Harry out of his thoughts.
"So, no Sorting?"
"No, my boy, I think it would be a bit detrimental," said Dumbledore, eyeing his rather distinctive staff. "Plus, you already have your own living quarters, so there is simply no reason for it."
Harry smiled evilly. Ah, he always knew how to get his way.
Now onto the next problem: how to get the passwords for the other common rooms...
Note: I had this on my computer for a while, and since everyone loved the first so much, I thought I'd post it. Hope you liked it!