Disclaimer: If you know it, it is likely from Philosopher's Stone by JKR and I don't own it.

25 May 2013 - edited and reloaded. Some content may have changed, but the storyline remains the same.


The Sorting


As the heavy doors closed behind Professor McGonagall, chatter broke out among the first years gathered in the small ante chamber. Ron began to spout off rather loudly all the nonsense his brothers had fed him about The Sorting. Draco wasn't so sure why the whole thing was such a hush-hush thing, as even his father refused to tell him how he'd be put into a house. Draco glanced over at Harry, who looked rather pale and gulped.

"Will we have to do magic? I wonder what spell I might need," Granger wondered.

"None. The Sorting is done by an old hat," Draco offered. "It's magical and sees inside your head or something."

Draco wasn't really sure how the hat worked, as it'd hardly even sat on his head before it shouted Slytherin. After that, Draco hadn't paid the least bit of attention to The Sorting. Nor did he pay any attention any of the other seven years he sat through The Sorting.

"We just have to put on a hat?" Harry asked, color returning to his face.

Draco nodded. While Hermione and Harry were clearly calmed by this news, Draco's mind went into overdrive as he thought about The Sorting. While there was no reason for the Hat to put him into another house, what if it did? What if the Hat actually sat on his head and looked inside and saw what Draco had done? Draco didn't want to get in trouble for what he'd done, or go back to where he'd come from. As far as he understood it, he couldn't travel forward in time, just back. He was stuck here.

But, still, they could chuck him in Azkaban for messing with time. He'd already made a few changes. A few without meaning to change things. Some had been changed before he'd been born.

By the time McGonagall reappeared, Draco had worked himself up to the point he was about to collapse. It took all his concentration to not throw up and walk forward with the others into the Great Hall. He was hardly aware of the gasps and comments made by his fellow first years as they walked in, nor did he even hear the Sorting Hat's song. He only snapped out of his nervous stupor when thunderous applause reached his ears and Harry elbowed him in the ribs with his pointy elbow.

"Are you all right?" Harry whispered over the noise.

"Of course," Draco lied.

Turning his attention to McGonagall, he began to chew on the inside of his cheek. McGonagall unrolled a long parchment and began to explain how The Sorting worked.

"When I call your name, step up and the Hat will be placed upon your head."

There was a moment of silence, while the first years all shifted nervously.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A blonde girl stumbled forward. She sat down and the Hat was placed on her head. There was a short moment before the hat cried, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The girl scurried off to the loudly cheering table.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brocklehurst, Mandy!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Brown, Lavender!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Bulstrode, Millicent!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

It felt surreal to watch The Storing for a second time, knowing exactly where all the students were going. While he hadn't paid attention, he did know what house each student wound up in at the end of the day. Glancing at Harry, Draco found the small boy was yet again looking a bit pale and sick.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Granger, Hermione!"

Granger rushed forward and sat down eagerly. The Hat dropped down, covering her eyes and resting on the bridge of her nose. It managed to push her bushy hair down so it looked like two clumps of brown fuzz.

"Gryffindor," Draco whispered grandly under his breath.

No one noticed him. He waited. He was sure Granger hadn't taken long the first time to be declared a Gryffindor, but this time it was taking forever. Harry and Draco exchanged looks. While Harry might not find this strange, Draco was downright disturbed. What had changed so much from the last time that Hermione was seemingly taking forever to sort?

Draco shifted back and forth on his feet.

"RAVENCLAW!"

Draco's jaw dropped.

Hermione appeared out from under the Hat, a big smile on her face. She looked pleased with her placement. She hopped off the stool and started towards the Ravenclaw table. Ron let out a pleased sounding sigh (there was no way he'd wind up in Ravenclaw), while Harry looked a bit sad, as Draco had a feeling Harry felt the same. Draco began to eat the inside of his cheek now, not paying the least bit of attention till Harry elbowed him again with that damn pointy elbow. It was like he sharpened it to be extra pointy.

"Draco," Harry hissed.

"Huh?"

Harry pointedly looked forward and Draco cursed silently. He strode forward, keeping his eyes glued to the ground. He sat down on the stool and braced himself. He felt the Hat come down over his head and waited for it to shout his House.

It didn't.

It fell over his eyes and blocked the view of the hall.

That hadn't happened last time.

"Interesting, very interesting," a small voice began in his ear. "I've sorted you once before."

Draco almost yelped. The Sorting Hat was talking to him.

"Put you in Slytherin last time without needing a proper look. Time has changed you, Draco Malfoy."

Crap, Draco thought. It knows.

"Of course I know. I see into your head. It was a rather reckless thing you did. Brave, but reckless. Cunning, sly, but reckless indeed. You erased the future you remember and you altered time in such a manner I bet you can't even fully grasp. I'm sure you've noticed a few duel memories?"

Draco gapsed.

"Yes. You're action created a whole new timeline, starting all the way back in 1943," the Hat went on, glee in its voice. "Between the two of you, I've seen the future as you knew it, but that future died the moment that girl landed in 1977."

Wait, you mean that other Atlanta Black? Draco thought. And didn't you say 1943?

"Ah, figured it out already. Clever boy. She seems to accidentally time travel often," the Sorting Hat went on. "But that's neither here nor there. Oh, and I did say 1943. That's yet to come. What matters now, is sorting you into a House. Now, where to put you…you are still very Slytherin, but do you really still belong there?"

Draco contemplated the question. For the purpose he had come back for, did he really belong in Slytherin? Draco wasn't even sure now that he was thinking about it. He had assume he'd be back in Slytherin, but would Harry really be put in Slytherin? Boy Wonder wasn't very Slytherin, if Draco really thought about it. He had a few traits, but he was very much a Gryffindor. He belonged in that house. Also, would Harry be able to rally people if he was a Slytherin?

Not likely.

Also, if Harry was in Slythrin, on the off chance, he'd have only Slytherin friends. That was how Slytherins rolled.

Would Slytherin even do anything for Draco this time around? He had thought it'd help him achieve greatness when he was eleven, but now? Any allies he made in the house would be useless for his current goals. He needed Harry. He had to side with Harry. And he liked Harry. While Draco was sure Harry would still be his friend no matter what house Draco was put in, he knew his fellow Slytherins would not approve in the least. No one in Slytherin liked Harry on principal.

Hell, Draco didn't like anyone who was in Slytherin. They were all like his father, deep down.

Well, except maybe Blasie Zabini. He fell into no man's land when it came down to it. Though, he was still seeped in pureblood mania and prejudice like the rest of them. The whole house was a flock of sheep following one another to slaughter at the tip of a wand.

And yet, his family expected him to sort into Slytherin. It was tradition, something that was important to Draco. Draco liked traditions. That was part of why he was here: to protect wizarding traditions.

Draco knew if he sorted elsewhere, his father would be livid. The wrath of Lucius Malfoy wasn't something Draco was looking forward to, but…

"Ah, yes. The whole going against your family manta. You know, I've had one quite similar to you," the Hat offered suddenly. "He assumed he'd be in Slytherin— as that was where all his family had gone. But, when I looked into his head, it wasn't really all there. At all. His little brother wasn't all Slytherin either, but was dead set on following tradition. Poor child was not open to suggestion in the least after what had happened to his brother.

"I feel you are open to suggestion. You are different. You're very much like your cousin Sirius Black."

Sirius had been sorted into Gryffindor, Draco remembered. First and only one ever in the Black family to do so.

"Yes, brave, loyal, rash, brash and a bit of a hot head, he was. First and only Black to ever not sort into Slytherin. And, I believe you'll do much better than he at keeping your head in tense situations, as you're a lot more cunning and sly than he could ever be. Don't tell him I told you that."

Draco snorted.

"Lofty goals you've set for yourself, and to get there, I think you better be in…. GRYFFINDOR."

The Hat was pulled off and Draco was greeted by a silent crowd. The Slytherin table looked as if someone had just died, while the Gryffindor table appeared shell shocked. A few had their mouths hanging open. The other two tables were simply confused, all exchanging looks. The tension was broken by Harry and Granger who both began to clap at the same time. The Ravenclaw table caught on, followed by Hufflepuff and soon the Gryffindor table began to clap, while still looking like they'd gotten the short end of the stick.

Putting an uneasy smile on his face, Draco slid off the stool and started towards the almost empty end of the long Gryffindor table. He sat down on the bench after swinging his legs over and glanced around. The Weasley twins were gaping at him, while a few others were eyeing him like he was a spy.

Draco took a deep breath, squared his shoulders and sat up straight and proud. He might get a tongue lashing from his father, but he was going to be proud to be a Gryffindor, even if they were reckless and didn't bother to think things through before rushing into danger. The Hat had told him his Slytherin traits would aid him. He had to contain a laugh when he thought he'd become an odd combination of both houses somehow.

Looking around again, Draco couldn't believe it. Draco Malfoy was really a Gryffindor. His tie had changed and his patched had morphed to a lion.

Draco was snapped out of his musing when he heard more noise than usual all of a sudden. Looking behind him, he noticed Harry making his way forward, head hanging and trying to make himself small. The whole room was whispering about Harry Potter.

The kid really hated being famous.

Harry sat down on the stool, clutching the sides. The Hat was lowered and Harry's whole head vanished under it. Draco choked on a laugh at the sight of Harry's body with a hat for a head. The boy was very tiny.

Fifteen minutes passed in silence till the crowd began to whisper again. This was the third sorting that had taken a long time. The student body began to get restless as Draco watched Harry clearly having an argument with the Hat. His hands clenched and unclenched quite a few times. Finally, the Hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Draco let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. The Hat was pulled off Harry's head and a smile burst forth as Harry hurried over to Draco, taking the seat next to him. No one had sat near Draco. Except for Longbottom, who had moved down to sit across from Draco at some point.

"That was close," Harry confided as he settled on the other side of Draco.

"Excuse me?"

"The Hat almost put me in Slytherin. It really wanted to put me there for some reason," Harry offered, looking confused. "I had to talk it into putting me into Gryffindor, which was the only other House it was willing to try. I wanted to be here or in Ravenclaw. I mean, I don't have anything against Slytherin, but you and Neville are here. And Hermione is in Ravenclaw. I've never…well, had friends before. I'd like to keep them. Plus…" Harry glanced over his shoulder at the tables behind him. "The Slytherins look…rather unfriendly."

Draco happened to agree. They did look like an unfriendly lot. None of them were chattering or smiling. Hell, Parkinson was frowning at him, while Crabbe and Goyle were both eyeing him as if he were some kind of bug. Draco turned back around, putting the rest of the hall behind his back.

"SLYTHERIN!"

A pin could have suddenly dropped and been heard. Draco couldn't figure out why silence had descended once again till he looked at who appeared out from under the hat.

It was Weasley.

Who still had a smudge of dirt on the side of his nose.

Draco's mouth dropped, mirroring the expressions on each of the three Weasleys sitting at the table with him. The Weasel on the stool was as white as a sheet and looked like a feather could topple him over.

"You're in Slytherin?" one of the twins shouted, his eyes about to pop out of his head.

"I thought I knew you!" the other one yelled.

The Prefect sat with his mouth hanging open, rather unattractively. The burly boy, who Draco dimly remembered was the Quidditch captain, reached over and tapped the bottom of Prefect's jaw, which snapped shut.

Weasley looked up at McGonagall, who was staring at him with a similar expression as the rest of his family. Her mouth opened and closed a few times before she looked at the Hat as if it were made of the essence of distaste.

Weasley rubbed the side of his nose.

"Oh, get over yourselves," Draco sneered. The whole room turned to look at him.

"Oh, you'd say that! You stole his spot!"

"Excuse me?" Draco asked, staring at the twin who'd spoken to him. "The Hat told me I belonged here. The Hat has seen something within…Ronald Weasley that makes it think he'll do well in Slytherin. The world is not going to end just because ONE of you isn't bleeding red and gold all over the floor."

Judging by the expressions of the Head Table, that last bit he ought to have kept in his head. Next to him, Harry was staring at him as if he were a bit off.

Oops, he forgot he was eleven.

"Quite right," Dumbledore agreed quietly, causing the room to turn to him. It was almost comical how the whole room was behaving. If Draco hadn't been embarrassed by his outburst, he might have laughed. "Mr. Weasley, please take your seat with your fellow Housemates."

Weasley swallowed hard. He stood slowly, almost regally, and made his way with sudden grace worthy of his pureblood status to the table under the green and silver banners. He faltered for a moment before Crabbe and Goyle moved together a bit too quickly, making a spot between Crabbe and Parkinson. Weasley lowered himself into the spot, managing to almost look haughty.

Either there was a bit of pureblood in that boy or he was a good actor.

Draco was also pleased to see Weasley had finally gotten the dirt off his nose.

"You ought to be proud. He's clearly ambitious and will go far in life," Draco informed the stunned looking twins. Prefect Weasley suddenly frowned a bit, looking like he was almost jealous that the Hat had seen ambition in his little brother.

"Oh, you'd say that Malfoy," a twin spat.

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but Granger stood up on the bench somewhere behind him and loudly proclaimed, "Just because he's in a different House from you doesn't mean squat. Your House says nothing about you as a person, it is simply a generalization of traits you might value in yourself. And if you're thinking he's going to go bad, simply because of where he's living, you are just as bad as the people who think ill of you because you're in Gryffindor! You cannot judge a book by the cover, nor should you judge a person by his or her House!"

Draco nodded, narrowing his eyes. He wished his father would hold that true, but he'd deal with that when he had to. Like tomorrow. Or at Christmas. Or never.

"Not every single Death Eater in the last war was in Slytherin," Draco said in a very low voice, meant only for the twins to hear. Luckily, McGonagall was telling Granger to sit down, so Draco was sure that only the twins heard.

"Oh, I bet you know all about Death Eaters, Malfoy," one snapped.

Draco curled his upper lip in distaste. "Tragically, I do. I don't hold their views in the least and they disgust me, but unfortunately for me, I didn't get to choose which family I was born into any more than you did. I can, though, make choices that will set me apart."

"Quite! Quiet!" Dumbledore called, standing up. "While I'm all for a lively debate, there are a few students who still need Sorting. Once the feast has begun, I encourage you all to continue your debates. Now, let us continue."

The Hall quieted down and remained that way until "Zabini, Blaise" was sorted into Slytherin. Oddly, Zabini, who usually didn't speak with anyone, let alone show interest in anything not female, pushed Parkinson over and sat down next to Ron. He stuck out his hand, introducing himself to the Weasel as Dumbledore stood to make his opening remarks.