AN: I wanted to show my thought process for each of the Trio and their placements so I have a little section for each of them. I'm curious what y'all think so let me know! :)

After the wonderful excitement of traveling across the lake, Harry, Ron, and Hermione found themselves sitting in a small room with the rest of the sixty or so other first years. The Sorting was about to begin and there was speculation from everyone about what sort of test it would be. The more conservative guesses posited a written exam, while the most ridiculous ranged from wrestling a troll to outwitting a sphinx.

"What did your brothers have to do, Ron?" asked Harry, moderately relieved to have an insider's knowledge.

Ron just shook his head, staring firmly at the ground. His hands were clenched around the seat of his bench and his knuckles were white.

"Are you ok?" asked Hermione, "You don't look ok."

Ron glanced up at her. "You both don't understand. You're from the muggle world. It doesn't matter for you two."

"What d'you mean, mate?" Harry asked, clapping a hand on Ron's shoulder.

"See, my parents, all my family really, expect me to get in to Griffindor. Sort of a family tradition." Ron shrugged. "So if I don't, it's sort of a stain on the old family name."

Harry frowned. "But what if you're not right for Griffindor? Wouldn't they want you to go where you fit the best?"

Ron shook his head. "See, you don't get it. For them, there's only one best House. And if I don't get in..." he shivered, "Let's just hope I get in."

Hermione tilted her head. "Isn't the whole point of have four Houses that there isn't a best House?"

Ron shrugged. "You'd think that, but people tend to think very specifically about the Houses." He cleared his throat. "Griffindor is the-"

Just then, the door opened and a matronly witch, resplendent in her pristine robes, walked in. Everything from her steely eyes to the tight bun on the top of her gray hair meant business. Her mouth rested in such a closed position that Harry wondered if she perpetually had something sour in her mouth.

"Right. My name is Professor McGonagall. Welcome to Hogwarts." Her voice was just as crisp and clean as the rest of her appearance, and just the littlest bit Scottish. "You will line up at the door according to your last name. Hannah Abbot?"

A smallish girl, that had the sweetest eyes Harry had ever seen, hesitantly raised her hand and stood up. "Y-yes?"

"Come here, girl. You will start the line." Professor McGonagall gestured to the floor in front of the door.

Hannah's eyes were wide with fear as she walked across the room. As she walked by Harry, he caught her eye and grinned. She cautiously smiled back and kept walking. It had spread through the room that, yes, he was that Harry Potter and, no, he did not want anyone staring at him. However, he didn't mind if he initiated the contact. The staring was a little off-putting, that was all.

Hannah Abbot arrived at the door and smiled nervously at Professor McGonagall. The older witch managed a tight smile in return. "Now, students, we will call for you by name, so line up and prepare."

"Prepare for what, exactly?" called out a dark skinned boy from the back of the room.

Professor McGonagall graced the room with an enigmatic glare. "You'll just have to find out, won't you?"

As soon as she had walked out, Harry turned to Ron. "You were saying?"

Ron's face had gone from pale to sickly and Harry was starting to be seriously worried for Ron's bench. Seemed that in another moment or two, the wood would crumble beneath Ron's mighty grasp.

"Right!" Ron grasped at the conversation like a drowning man at a life raft. "Griffindor is sort of the 'good' House. Dumbledore went there, and so did a lot of other old heroes. And my parents want nothing more than for me to do the same." He took a deep breath to steady himself. "Ravenclaw is the 'smart' House." He gestured at Hermione with his chin. "You'll probably get that."

Hermione smiled warmly at Ron. "Thank you, Ron. That's very sweet."

"Anyway," Ron said, shaking himself, "Then there's Hufflepuff. Most people say only weaklings go to Hufflepuff." He shrugged. "I don't think that's the whole story, but that's what they say." He gulped. "And, finally, we get to Slytherin."

"I'll take it from here, Weasely," drawled Malfoy from across the room. All pairs of eyes were suddenly drawn to both trios. "See, Potter, Slytherin is-"

"It's the evil house!" shouted a boy sitting somewhat by himself. "There's never been a wizard that went bad that didn't go to Slytherin!"

"Really?" Harry asked, "That seems...unlikely."

"What Longbottom means," drawled Malfoy, "Is that Slytherin is the House of ambition and cunning." He looked imperiously around the room. "And where power lies, lies also..." he frowned, "lie."

"So close," said Hermione, shaking her head.

"Hermione Granger!" called Professor McGonagall from the Great Hall and Hermione walked out of the waiting room, getting one last thumbs-up from Harry and ignoring Ron's stupor. She walked out of the door and took her first look at the Hogwarts Great Hall.

She had, of course, read all about it, but the knowledge paled in comparison to the sight. Four massive tables stretched across the Hall; Slytherin and Griffindor on opposite sides with Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in the middle to keep the peace. The enchanted ceiling, ensorcelled by Galileo himself, was showing the night sky above. Little known fact: The sky was actually the sky on the outside. Galileo had invented a sort of "two places at once" spell and was immediately censored by the Catholic Wizards. Hogwarts had been the only place he could perform the spell. Hogwarts: A History was an absolutely brilliant read.

At the front of the Great Hall, directly in front of the Head Table, was the Sorting Hat. Hogwarts: A History had been curiously vague about the actualSorting, but Hermione was not worried. Ravenclaw was definitely for her. Hermione looked around at the students in the room as she approached the Hat. She saw some of her fellow first years sprinkled amongst the other students and didn't see any cuts or bruises. A little relieved, she approached the Hat and its stool.

Professor McGonagall was standing a short ways from the stool, but moved forward when she saw Hermione. "Here, Miss Granger." She gestured at the stool and lifted the Hat off of it. "Have a seat."

Hermione sat down on the stool, really she sat up on it, and peered down at the rest of the school. She had expected the Sorting to be mainly ceremonial, with most students mingling and joking with each other. Every eye, however, was on her, watching attentively.

"Take a breath, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said kindly. "A nice, deep one now."

Hermione complied and felt much better afterward.

"And, here we go!" said Professor McGonagall as she dropped the hat onto Hermione's head.

The brim fell over Hermione's eyes and she was surrounded by darkness.

Ahh, yes. Miss Granger. Let's see here. Oh my, a fantastic mind, decent amounts of courage, a strong sense of loyalty, yes, you could do well almost anywhere. Well, except Slytherin. Don't go there.

Hermione felt, more than heard, a voice in her head. Normally, voices in one's head was a bad thing, but

Quite right, completely normal in this case.

So. Hermione was allowed to choose what House she went to?

To an extent. Most are more specifically attuned to a House. However, should you choose a House for the wrong reasons, I will stop you.

Hermione thought that was fair. Well, she was leaning towards Ravenclaw...

Naturally. A good thought. Ravenclaw will undoubtedly accentuate your strengths, however it will also accentuate your weaknesses.

That seemed natural.

Should you choose Griffindor, you will be constantly sought out for your brains; you will be necessary to others. Should you join Hufflepuff, the loyalty of your housemates will warm your heart and their tendency towards hard work will stretch you in ways your intellect will not. Should you join Ravenclaw, you will be alone.

Hermione thought about that. Others like her would not need her for research; they would simply do it themselves. Others like her had not known what friendship can give; they would simply retreat from her superiority. She saw the Hat's points. Ravenclaw would isolate her and most likely make her cold to the rest of the world.

Quite right! So, we'll just say Griffin-

Nope.

What? What was that?

Hermione wanted Ravenclaw.

But you'll-

She knew. But the environment of knowledge would not let her down.

Being alone for all those years...

Besides, she trusted Harry to stay her friend. He seemed decent enough. And Ron had complimented her intelligence.

You can't honestly think-

Hermione made up her mind. Knowledge and research was worth it. Absolutely.

I...see... In that case... "Ravenclaw!"

Hermione took the Hat off in time to be overwhelmed by the cheering and roaring that greeted her. The table clad in blue and bronze had practically all of its members standing and elated. Hermione caught the eye of a girl with curly, auburn hair and received a smile and pair of thumbs up. Hermione got off the stool and made her way down towards the table. She was aware that she wasn't as ecstatic as the rest of the students at her table, but she figured that was natural.

Hermione sat down in the first available seat, next to the curly haired girl, and the noise began to die down. Professor McGonagall strode forward and unfurled a scroll, but Hermione felt the girl on her right tapping her on shoulder.

The girl was smiling. "Hi, I'm Penelope Clearwater. Nice to meet you!"

"Harry Potter!" Professor McGonagall called from the next room.

"Coming!" Harry called back. There were a couple of chuckles and a pat on the back from the nearly catatonic Ron and Harry was walking up and out of the room.

When Harry entered the Great Hall, the buzz of conversation went quiet. All eyes were on Harry as he looked around the storied Hall. He saw the four tables and thought to himself that the colors were a good idea. After a moment, the silence was beginning to wear on him so Harry waved to whole Hall. "Hello! Nice to meet you all!" There was an additional moment of silence before the entire Hall erupted in cheering and yelling. Harry saw Draco sitting with the emerald and silver House frowning and looking a little upset.

Harry covered his ears and looked around in shock and confusion before a solemn, though cheerful, voice behind him spoke, "Silencio!" Immediately the Hall went silent, though the students were still obviously yelling and cheering.

"Ah, that's better!" said the same voice.

Harry turned and saw the most wizardly looking wizard he could have conceived. The man was clearly around one hundred and eighty, given Ollivander's benchmark of two hundred, and was wearing midnight blue robes and a pointy hat, all of which sparkled. The man wore half-moon spectacles in front of periwinkle eyes that danced merrily, belying the rather solemn smile below. The rest of the head table was a cornucopia of oddities as well, from Hagrid waving earnestly, to a man twitching in what looked like pain, to a wizard so tiny that Harry could have picked him up and worn him like a hat. Harry grinned. He'd never be bored.

"Well, Mr. Potter," said Professor McGonagall, striding forward, "Right this way, please."

Harry followed her to a stool that held the oldest hat he'd ever seen. The thing had to be at least three times as old as Ollivander. Professor McGonagall lifted the hat off of the stool and gestured for Harry to sit. When he did, she gave him a tight smile and said, "Here we go!"

Harry's vision was suddenly shrouded in Hat.

Ah, what do we have here...Ah, lots of courage, decent mind-

"Can you tell me about the Houses?" Harry asked.

Err, you don't need to speak. Just think.

Ah! That makes sense. Harry thought, in what he hoped was genuine excitement. Emotions were-

Hard, yes. Didn't you hear my song?

Harry thought back the whole time he was in the room.

A simple "no" would have sufficed, Mr. Potter.

Right. Harry tried to be contrite.

I don't feel like singing the whole bloody thing again.

That's fair! I heard that Hufflepuff was for weaklings, but that seems...wrong. Harry thought Ron's description lacked...nuance.

What?! The Hat seemed genuinely shocked. I would not send any weak student anywhere. I would send them packing. No no, Hufflepuff is the House of loyalty and hard work. They believe in tolerance, friendship, and fairness. The Hat took the mental equivalent of a long sigh. Now, as I was thinking, you'll do nicely in Griffin-

I want Hufflepuff! Harry cut in. That seems like fun.

But, but you're so brave, so confident, surely you want a House that will push you on to greater heights!

Harry tried to mentally shrug. I mean, I defeated a Dark Lord when I was only a year old. I don't think I'll really top that. Besides, I like having friends.

The Hat seemed to sigh. Are you sure? Even Slytherin is better for you than Hufflepuff.

Harry shrugged again, trying to seriously get his thoughts across. I want to go to Hufflepuff. I respect the power of friendship and hard work. When I was growing up, everything was more fun with other people. In this school, where super fun things happen all the time, it must be even cooler with people you care about.

The Hat seemed a bit taken aback. Mister Potter, Harry, I must apologize. I was most assuredly not looking at what you wanted. I was merely looking at where you would do best. Though- the Hat frowned- It seems that orphans should be given a family and Griffindor, for all their camaraderie, is definitely not that. Hufflepuff is. You're right, better be- "Hufflepuff!"

Harry lifted the Hat off of his head. To the eruption of cheers from the yellow and black table. Several of the more boisterous students were standing on the table itself, chanting "Potter is our friend" over and over again. Harry glanced over his shoulder and thought he saw a brief look of disappointment from the wizardly wizard. But then the wizard was smiling benevolently over the Hall and Harry was sure he had imagined it. He allowed himself another quick glance around the table, again seeing a man that looked to be in pain, but then Harry was turning and looking out over the Hall. The cheering subsided and everyone was looking expectantly at him.

"Um," Harry said, hearing a few titters. His mind went blank.

One of the red-headed twins Harry had met at King's Cross shouted, "Come on, Potter!" and there were more chuckles.

"Right!" Harry said, grinning, "I'm Harry Potter, nice to meet you all!"

There were a lot of cheers and more clapping.

Harry cleared his throat. "I defeated the Dark Lord when I was-"

He was cut off by all the cheers and slamming of hands onto tables. Harry exaggerated rolling his eyes and gestured to everyone to settle down.

When they did, he continued, "But I didn't do anything. I just lay there. I was only a year old, for crying out loud." He took a deep breath. "So please don't get star struck. It's seriously annoying."

There was a silence and Harry wondered if he had gone too far.

Then, the other twin stood and shouted, "Oh, toss off Potter!"

Amid the gales of laughter, and joining in them himself, Harry walked over to his new House table. He sat down next to the girl he had grinned at in the other room, and was immediately besieged with questions.

In Ron Weasely's life, there were more than a few times he'd wished that he had a different last name. The first had been a sobering experience when he'd been around seven and his family hadn't been able to have dinner. His father explained that liking muggles was not a popular position at the ministry and, because of that, sometimes he was neglected at work. Ron had asked why his father simply didn't lie to get the money. His father had said that there were certain things in life that were more important than money. That people, muggle or magical, were people all the same. That treating those less powerful than yourself badly was the mark of cruelty. So, the Weaselys hadn't eaten dinner that night.

This moment was close to that. Ron was the last person sitting in the room next to the Great Hall. Finally, he heard Professor McGonagall call out, "Ronald Weasely."

Ron stood up from the wooden bench, wiped some splinters onto his shirt, and walked over to the door. The Great Hall certainly lived up to its name. The massive Hall stretched out before him, the four tables multicolored and radiant. The scarlet and gold, the yellow and black, the sapphire and bronze, and the emerald and silver. Ron felt a bit awed that he was finally standing there, looking at it all. He had seen pictures, of course, but they utterly paled in comparison.

He smirked as he saw Hermione sitting at Ravenclaw, chatting with Percy's friend Penelope. Harry was, to his surprise, sitting at the Hufflepuff table, holding court with something like fifteen people. Ron figured that Harry would be in Griffindor; it just seemed right. And there, sure enough, was Draco Malfoy sitting smugly at the Slytherin table. Figures.

Ron walked over to the stool that held the Sorting Hat, he swore to curse his brothers somehow for making him worry, and sat down. He glanced up to Professor McGonagall, who gave him a reassuring smile.

"Are you ready, Mister Weasely?" Her voice was kind, utterly unlike her steely appearance.

"Um," Ron gulped, "Kind of."

Professor McGonagall lowered the Hat and said, "Really, Mister Weasely, there's no shame in any of the Houses. Don't worry about your mother."

Despite himself, Ron felt a bit better. "Thanks." He nodded. "I'm ready."

The Hat had barely touched his head when it shouted, "Slytherin!"