Chapter 2
With Hecate perched on my head, my dad and I began making our way through the throngs of people till we came to a stop in from of a small store. Reading the sign, I soon established that this was the wand shop. My dad just smiled and ushered me in.
"Ollivander," he called out, "my son is in need of a wand."
An old man emerged from the back of the store and, stepping up so that he was in front of my dad, he exclaimed, "Why Helios, it's been years. I remember when your father brought you here to find you very first wand; 13", hawthorn, dragon heartstring."
My dad just nodded, "It's time for my son to get his wand."
"Oh, yes of course, come here boy."
I stepped up and a tape measure promptly began taking measurements, I swatted it away when it got to measuring my ass; perverted tape measure.
"Hmm, well, I'll see what I can do," he went to the back of the shop and came back with a simple black box, "Here, try this one, 11", holly, dragon heartstring."
Are wands supposed to explode? Probably not.
"9", oak, phoenix feather." Boom, bye bye wand
"13 ½", walnut, dragon heartstring." Note to self, apologize to Hecate, I think she lost a few of her tail feathers; damn fireball
"12", willow, unicorn hair?" I wonder if he charges for collateral damages, because last time I checked, ceiling replacements aren't cheap
"12 ½", yew, phoenix feather."
Finally! Two explosions, a blasted ceiling and a glaring owl later, I finally got my wand. After paying a rather large fee, my dad and apparated us to Hogsmeade; someone clearly has something against walking. He then hurriedly escorted me to some carriages pulled by thestrals. I admit, I have seen someone die so I can see thestrals and I suppose escorted is being polite, pushed, shoved and pulled is much more accurate. The carriage ride was typical, except for the fact that I was the only student who wasn't a returning student but not a first year either, oh well.
Before pushing me into one of the carriages, my dad had told me to follow the instructions meant for the first years even though I wasn't arriving the way most first years did.
Never having been one to disobey my dad, I followed his directions and managed to get myself stuck in a crowd of first years waiting to be sorted, aren't I just so lucky? Yeah right, my luck is pretty close to nonexistent. Well, beggars can't be choosers, or can they? And since my luck is just so awful, my last name is Antonius so I have the great joy of being one of the first in line.
"Antonius-Malfoy, Hyperion!" Damn you Professor McGonagall, thanks for mentioning the Malfoy part, now I gotta deal with all the whispers!
I walked up to the stool, sat down and jammed the hat onto my head; what can I say, I'd rather choose my own house than be sorted by an old ancient hat that looks like it belongs in an archaeologist's museum collection.
"Ah, a Malfoy eh? I suppose you'll be wanting to be placed in Slytherin?"
"Fuck off you piece of cloth, you have no idea what house I want!"
"Temper and language young man. Let me see…"
The shitty old sack started peering through my recent memories and other very personal past memories
"Get the fuck out off my memories you fucking piece of shit!"
"Courageous, cunning, rather dark past, your cold on the outside but quite caring on the inside. Yes, I believe the right place for you is GRYFFINDOR!"
That fucking piece of shit! Well, at least my dad isn't one of those rigid pureblood supremacists. Gryffindor, it just had to be Gryffindor didn't it? I couldn't be a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin. Hell, I'd go with Hufflepuff if I had to. A Malfoy in Gryffindor, I glanced over at the red and gold table and saw their astounded faces and glares, yup, I'm going to die.
Of course, since my luck always makes things end badly for me, my oh so sweet cousin decided to pay me a visit. And I thought just being in Gryffindor was unlucky.
"Hello cousin," my cousin walked over from the Slytherin table and stood behind me, "may I ask why you're sitting with these Gryffindorks?"
I sighed, "It's nice to see you too Draco. As for my choice of seating, blame that damn hat that everyone loves."
He chuckled softly, "I see, well, I'm sorry to say this but I wont be able to help you much this year. You know how Slytherins are supposed to hate Gryffindors and, well, my dear Hyperion, you are a Gryffindor."
"Fucking dumbass hat." I muttered under my breath
Draco laid an arm across my shoulders, "Well, at least you don't have any enemies..."
"Yet," I said, cutting him off, "I know about you and Potter but hey, as long as he doesn't come for us, I doubt much could go wrong."
"If you only knew dear cousin, if you only knew." ruffling my hair, my older cousin spin on his heel and made his way back to the Slytherin table
Man, I really hate that hat; even Draco can't help me learn the ropes; fucking piece of shitty cloth.