Chapter 3: Better Be Slytherin

The boats stopped in a tunnel, bobbing gently by the water's edge. Harry and Draco clambered out first, followed closely by the boy and girl they'd shared with. The sounds of crunching pebbles and excited voices grew louder as more and more first years stepped out of their boats. Harry brushed off his robes just as Hagrid announced: "This way, come on!" and started to climb a flight of stone steps. The group hurriedly followed the light of his burning lamp.

The light stopped moving as Hagrid led them to a platform at the top of the stairs. A hush fell over the crowd as they caught sight of the giant oak doors framed by burning sconces. Hagrid turned to face the fidgeting first years and beamed down at them, then stepped forward and raised his fist. He pounded on the doors and they swung open.

A shadow emerged from the open door and into the light. It was a witch dressed in fine robes of gleaming gold and wearing a crooked scarlet witch's hat. Her face, although lined with age, was stern; and when her eyes swept across the gathered first years, Harry knew that she wasn't one to be crossed. Harry whispered as much to Draco, who looked as if he'd just run into a ghost.

Speaking of ghosts, three pale figures chose that moment to float out the open door, talking amongst themselves. Harry caught snippets of their conversation: "new students…the Boy who Lived…what House…Peeves…" The ghosts didn't seem to notice the group of students gathered before them and kept their floating pace, almost passing straight through a red-haired girl, who shrieked and moved aside.

Finally, the witch seemed to have had enough. She cleared her throat and everyone turned their attention to her, even the ghosts, one of whom said a hurried "Ah, new students, I see. Welcome to Hogwarts! Hope to see you in Gryffindor!" and led the way back inside the castle. Draco scoffed and muttered something about Gryffindors. Harry looked at him quizzically.

"Welcome to Hogwarts. I am Professor McGonagall," said the witch. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your House, sleep in your House dormitory and spend free time in your House common room."

"The four Houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the House with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever House becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered for a moment on the chubby faced boy from the boat. Harry gulped nervously and tried to flatten his hair. Draco unconsciously pulled at his tie.

"I will return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She turned and left the way she had come.

Harry let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. Draco looked at him and smirked, shaking his head slightly; totally ignorant of how he'd looked when McGonagall had first appeared.

"You know, I don't see why…" Draco trailed off. He tilted his chin, motioning to someone behind Harry. Harry turned and spotted the red-haired boy he'd snuck a peek at earlier on the train walking towards them, a dark-skinned boy beside him.

"Hi," the boy said when he reached Harry and Draco. "I'm Ron."

Ron held out his hand and smiled at Harry. Harry didn't take it. Instead, he looked to Draco, as if the other boy could do something. Ron's eyes narrowed as he looked from Harry to Draco.

"I wouldn't associate with him if I were you, Potter. He's a Weasley. Worst lot of purebloods I've ever come across. Blood traitors, they are. And he's Gryffindor." Draco addressed this to Harry, before glaring at the Weasley.

"What are you here for, Weasley? With those hand-me-down's and incompetent official of a father, I'd bet you're after Potter's fortune. Or are you trying to recruit people to your idiotic Gryffindor cause? Potter won't be swayed that easily, Weasel. So I suggest you leave him alone." This, Draco aimed at Ron.

Harry's eyes widened in shock. Even he was surprised that Draco had gone that far. Harry, feeling guilty, bit his lip and cast an apologetic look at Ron – a gesture that wasn't acknowledged.

Ron's cheeks turned red in rage, his nostrils almost flaring visibly. He clenched his fist, and Harry could tell that nothing good could come out of this. Then, they heard the sharp click of heels on the stone floor and the boys dropped it, leaving the score-settling for another day. Professor McGonagall had returned.

"Come along now, follow me. The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall's gaze settled on Harry, Draco and Ron, and they all looked away, refusing to meet her gaze.

"You know that I could be a Gryffindor, right?" Harry told Draco, when the Professor finally looked away. He received a scathing look in reply.

"Quickly, form a line!"

Harry, feeling as though he'd been glued to the floor, dragged his feet forward and got into line behind two Indian girls. Twins, he thought. Draco got into line behind him, and Ron and the dark-skinned boy hung back for a while before joining the line. They walked through the front doors, into a sprawling chamber and through another set of double doors – into the Great Hall.

Harry had never imagined that something as beautiful as this could exist. The Great Hall was lit by thousands of flickering candles that floated above four long tables, where the rest of the school was sitting. The tables were decorated in reds, greens, blues, and yellows; and were lined with set after set of golden plates, goblets, and cutlery. Harry felt countless sets of eyes upon him and glanced upward; he saw a ceiling of twinkling stars upon a sleek black canvas.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside," Harry heard someone say, and remembered that he'd read about it in Hogwarts, A History.

On a raised platform at the top of the hall was another long table where the staff and teachers sat. Professor McGonagall led the first years up there and placed a four legged stool in front of them. On top of the stool, she placed a very old, very frayed wizard's hat. Harry noticed then that every eye was turned towards the hat; so that's what he did too. For a moment, there was nothing. Then, a tear on its brim opened up and it began to sing:

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 whole hall burst into cheers and applause as the Hat finished its song and bowed, before falling silent and went still once more, as if it had never moved in the first place. Professor McGonagall held up a hand and every eye in the room flicked to her. She stepped in front of the first years, holding a long roll of parchment in her hand. One by one, the First Years were called up to be Sorted, and one by one, the nervous group slowly dwindled.

Harry wasn't really paying attention. He was more worried about his own Sorting to notice that the girl from the platform – Hermione Granger – had been sorted into Gryffindor and that the chubby-faced boy – Neville Longbottom – had somehow made it to Gryffindor too.

"Malfoy, Draco!"

Harry was pulled out of his thoughts then and clapped Draco on the shoulder. Draco nodded back at him and sauntered forward to put the hat on his head. He sat down and the hat fell over his eyes. For almost a whole minute, there was nothing. Everyone seemed to be confused – whispers broke out, and the teachers exchanged glances. Even Harry was beginning to feel uncomfortable. But then – "Slytherin!"

The Slytherin table cheered and clapped as Draco stood up and looked back at Harry, a smug smile on his face – but his grey eyes looked anything but smug; if anything, they had a hint of worry and relief in them. "Not Gryffindor," Draco mouthed at him and hurried to join the rest of the Slytherins. Harry noticed that as he approached the table, Vincent and Gregory had offered him a seat – which he'd turned down – and gone on to carefully choose a spot near the first year girls. Harry supposed he was avoiding the two, for some reason.

Now alone with strangers, – except for Ron Weasley, who kept his steely glare on the back of Harry's head – Harry waited in nervous anticipation for his name to be called. There was a pause and an intake of breath from the witch, then McGonagall called his name, with a certain air of pride about it. Harry hurried to the stool, trying to avoid the eyes of students from all houses who'd stood up to have a better look. Harry glanced up at the staff table and met the stone cold gaze of a black-haired professor. A shiver went down his spine and he shoved the hat on his head, and sat down.

"Harry Potter. I've been looking forward to Sorting you." Harry jumped when he heard the voice in his ear, although he supposed he shouldn't have been too surprised. "You're a rather difficult one, aren't you? Plenty of courage, I see, and there's loyalty, though you haven't had many chances to prove that. Not a bad mind, either; intelligent for your age, and curious, too. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself. It seems you could go anywhere."

Harry's heart thumped hard against his chest and he gripped the edges of the stool.

"Where shall I put you, Mr Potter?"

Wherever you think is right, Harry thought. But preferably where I'll belong.

"Now, now, are you sure? You could choose, you know."

Harry had a fleeting thought that the Hat was amused.

"You'd do well in Gryffindor, just as your parents did."

Harry didn't know if he wanted to be a Gryffindor, now that he'd met Draco.

"It seems you've already made a friend in Mr Malfoy. Rather like you, he was, a hard one to place. An interesting friendship, one would say. In that case, how about Slytherin? It may not be easy, but eventually, I'm sure you will thrive among the snakes."

The Hat knew his decision before he made it.

"Yes, Salazar's House would prepare you for the path ahead. It was a pleasure, Mr Potter, and I wish you all the best in –

"SLYTHERIN!"