I have discovered, much to my dismay, that I suck at dialogue. This was the first chapter of real, long conversations and boy did I feel it. I hammered the dialogue into what I think (hope) is something passable, but boy did it take some editing. In more positive news, I do feel like my dialogue is improving, even just over the course of writing this chapter. Maybe soon I'll be able to nail it on the first try. Here's to hoping.

This chapter diverges more obviously from cannon than the last, but it'll likely take 1 or 2 more chapters to really start getting into my own material. It's also the first real appearance of Harry's "golden boy" persona, as he refers to it. I was aiming for a budget version of Dumbledore's speech when writing it. If his lines seem cheesy and somewhat melodramatic, that's because that's what Harry's aiming for.

(-)

Stepping confidently through the near deserted hall of the Hogwarts Express, Harry reflected once again on how mundane this method of transportation seemed for a mysterious, magical school. It didn't even come with any obvious fancy features like, he didn't know, the ability to fly. Now that would be cool.

The platform outside was a clambering mess of chaos, tearful goodbyes and energetic reunions combining into an unintelligible din of noise. The sound was currently at its peak with the number of bodies on the platform at an all-time high. Harry himself had made a beeline for the train, wasting little time, and ensuring he was one of the very first to board. His experience in the Leaky Cauldron was still fresh in his mind and he was well aware that, should he be caught in a swarm of well-wishers on the platform, there would be no convenient half-giants to create an escape route for him this time.

Reaching the last car, he picked a door nearly at random, assuming that his early arrival would assure it to be empty. The blonde girl that turned to stare at him from her seat by the window proved otherwise. Cursing in his head, Harry realized that he couldn't very well just turn and walk out now. Smiling broadly, he gave the girl a wave.

"Care for some company? Doesn't do the soul good to keep quiet too long, amiright?"

That one felt weird coming out of his mouth, and Harry had to clamp down on the bemused expression that wanted to leak onto his face. He had known playing the golden boy would be a disorienting 180 from Surry's broody loner, but fuck this was going to be strange.

Ignorant of his little internal dialogue, the girl continued to stare at him. As in, stare at him without responding to his question. The silence dragged on, 5 seconds turning into 10, into 20, all the way to a full half of a minute. Just as Harry was ready to decide she was deaf, she moved. Not much, mind you, but the slight inclination of her head was just sufficient to be recognized as a nod.

It was enough for Harry, and he dropped his trunk on a seat while carefully placing his birthday gift from Hagrid, a snowy owl, on the floor next to the window. Dropping in to fill a seat himself, he glanced across to compartment at his sole companion. "What year are you? I'm a First Year myself."

At some point, while Harry had bustled about the compartment setting down his luggage, the girl had shifted her gaze away from him and out the window. She maintained her silence, once again, in the face of his question, this time not even looking at him to show she had heard. Staring at her while awaiting a response, Harry took the chance to study her appearance.

Her hair was a golden blond, closer to cheddar than swiss. Her face was a rounded thing, baby fat still featuring heavily, and a small, rounded nose took up position between two sharp eyes. The eyes themselves were a steely gray, and Harry could see nothing behind them. As accustomed as he was to reading people through their eyes, it was disorienting to stare at a pair which gave nothing away, and Harry couldn't help thinking that this girl was either a demon at poker or too stupid to reach even basic levels of thought. After a full two minutes of staring with no response, he was leaning toward the latter. "If I've done something to earn the cold shoulder, miss, you have my apologies. It was never my intention."

The apology was met with the same lack of response as his question, so Harry shifted his attention with a mental shrug. It wasn't like he really wanted to spend the ride making small talk, so maybe he shouldn't be looking a gift-horse in the mouth. Opening his trunk and looking in, he focused on the two books laying at the top of the pile, side by side. A Guide to Magical Languages by Lexie Con sat on the right with Defensive Curses for Beginners by Fitz Beck on the left. Both had come from Flourish and Blotts during his trip to Diagon Alley, though Defensive Curses for Beginners had taken a bit of work to make off with. Hagrid had forbidden him from getting it, saying it was too dangerous for a first year with no experience. Too bad for him, he'd left the money with Harry when he went for a bathroom break. Honestly, it was a win-win situation the way he saw it; Hagrid gets to feel like he did his job as a responsible adult, and Harry still gets the book. See? Everyone's happy.

Harry reached into the trunk and pulled out A Guide to Magical Languages, flipping to the page he'd left off on. As eager as he was to keep digging into the book of curses, it wasn't exactly normal reading material for first years, and this was still a public train. Settling into his book, Harry began to read.

He only made it a dozen pages, however, before the door slid open with a smack. Harry stifled a groan of irritation. The uses for the conjunctive tense in the Merpeople's language was fascinating, and he had just gotten to the good part. Reluctantly tearing his eyes from his book, he looked up at the new arrival.

Arrivals, Harry corrected himself, taking in the two new faces. Closer to Harry was a boy with short, blondish hair and a calm face. He was tall for an 11-year-old, and he stood a half of a head taller than his companion, a girl with twin pigtails of blonde hair framing a face dominated by rosy cheeks.

"The rest of the trains filling up, mind if we sit here? We're first years, y'see, and we don't rightly know anyone yet."

It was the boy who spoke, stepping forward confidently while his companion hovered behind, seemingly glued to his shadow.

"Come right in," Harry called out boisterously. "The more the merrier, and what time is there to be merry if not your first trip to Hogwarts?" His words were accompanied by a welcoming spread of the arms, completing the gesture. Glancing over at the cabin's original occupant, Harry saw no objections; She hadn't even bothered to look away from the window.

The boy was chuckling at Harry's words as he made to sit, though he threw a baffled glance at the blonde girl by the window that was completely ignoring his existence.

"Nice to meet you. The name's Ernest Macmillan, but just call me Ernie. Everyone does. This," he paused to jab a thumb at his companion, earning a startled squeak for his troubles. "is Hannah Abbott. The two of us already knew each other, friends of the family, but it's nice to meet a friendly face."

He turned to Hannah as he trailed off, fixing her with an expectant look. She took the not-so-subtle queue. "I'm Hannah. Nice to meet you both."

"I'm Harry, and that is…I never did get your name, did I miss?" The last part was directed at the cabin's earliest occupant, and Harry half expected to be left hanging again. At first it seemed like he would be, but eventually she spoke; "Daphne."

Her voice was smooth, possessing an elegance that should have eluded anyone with prepubescent vocal cords, yet the odd girl managed it. All three other occupants were taken aback by her answer, Ernie and Hannah because they expected more and Harry because he hadn't expected anything at all.

With a lingering glance of confusion at Daphne, Ernie tried to keep the conversation moving. "Nice to meet you. It's a mad house out there, everyone scrambling to find a compartment." He turned his eyes toward Hannah, "I told you we should have boarded earlier."

She glared back, irritation overcoming her earlier anxiety, "You so did not. I wasn't the one hanging onto my mommie for dear life."

"She just wouldn't let go of me!" Ernie protested, red dusting his cheeks. "I would've been gone in an instant, otherwise."

"Sure you would've," Hannah returned, tone showing just how much she believed him.

"Anyway," Ernie coughed out, eager to change the subject. "What house to you think you'll be in? My family's been Hufflepuff for generations- though Uncle Lester went to Ravenclaw."

"My parents were both Gryffindors. Reckon I'll end up following their example." Harry said with a grin.

"Hufflepuff for me," Hannah chirped. Her shyness seemed to be receding by the minute. "My mom was a Puff, and everyone's always telling me how much I remind them of her."

Attention shifted to the final occupant, but she showed no signs of answering any time soon, so Harry took advantage of the silence to ask a question of his own. "Just how are we going to be sorted, anyway? Didn't grow up with magic, so it's all a bit new to me."

"I heard we have to solve a puzzle while fighting a drago- Ow!" Ernie's answer ended abruptly as Hannah's foot fount its way to his shin, forcefully. "Well, my brother told me some things, but I think he was just pulling my leg. It's a bit of a tradition, not telling kids how they do the sorting. Let 'em find out in the moment is the idea."

That wasn't quite what Harry had been hoping, but at least it seemed everyone else would be as much in the dark as he was.

"If your parents were Gryffindors, how could magic be new to you?" Daphne's voice cut into the conversation.

Harry blinked in surprise. He hadn't even thought she was listening. "Grew up with relatives. My parents aren't around anymore, I'm afraid."

Daphne merely nodded, as if his answer confirmed what she already suspected, and continued looking out the window.

"Oh! I'm so sorry for your loss." Hannah said, looking as horrified as if she had asked the question herself.

"Don't be. You've done nothing wrong, and they passed a long time ago. I've learned how to move on. Life is filled with trials, big and small, but it's how you move past them that will determine whether you succeed."

Hannah's eyes were showing the first signs of tears, but she was looking at him with a trace of admiration. Harry's own eyes were rolling- mentally, of course. That had been so cheesy, and she was already practically eating out of his hand. With an internal shudder, Harry wondered just how many more silly lines like that he would have to churn out over the years to come.

Ernie hadn't had so overt a reaction as Hannah, but he had given Harry a nod, likely the sincerest reaction he could think of that he felt would keep his masculinity intact. He also spoke up quickly, to move the conversation back to lighter topics. "There's a lake at Hogwarts. It's supposed to be a real sight, especially at dawn. My brother told me about it. He even said it has some sort of sea monster, tentacles and all."

"The same brother that told you there would be fights with dragons just to find out your house?" Harry asked.

"Well, yea, but this time I think he was on the level. His lies tend to be rather over the top, so I can usually tell when he's telling the truth." Ernie explained with a shrug.

"A huge, tentacled sea monster next to a school isn't crazy enough to be one of his lies?"

"Yes," Ernie said instantly. "If you heard the stuff he makes up, you'd know too." He trailed off with a shiver, muttering about how he should've known you couldn't become an Animagus by licking a Garden Gnome.

Their conversation continued on in a similar vein, with the only interruption coming from a bushy haired girl in search of a toad. She had been sent on her way quickly enough when Harry informed her that they hadn't seen one, and the casual conversation returned, though Harry began to cast more than a few longing glances down at the now-closed cover of A Guide to Magical Languages. The price for playing the sociable hero was a high one, he mused.

O-O-O-O-O

An hour into the train ride, the door slid open again, this time without so much as a knock of warning. In the now visible hallway was a formation of sorts, two hulking, flat faced boys hemming in a much slighter one. They briefly reminded Harry of a Tie Fighter from those Star Wars movies, tall on the sides and small in the middle. He quickly recognized the centerpiece, though. It was the boy from Madame Malkin's, Draco Malfoy, and he was staring right at Harry. "They said Harry Potter was in this cabin, and it appears they were right. You didn't mention, Harry," he stressed the name, alluding to how he introduced himself back when they met, "Just what your last name was. Rather important piece that."

Hannah and Ernie's heads snapped around toward Harry. They hadn't yet realized that their conversation partner was one of the celebrities of the wizarding world, but now that someone had mentioned it, they seemed to be kicking themselves. Unfazed, Harry responded to Draco cheerfully.

"I prefer first names. Everyone in your family tree has a claim to your last, but your first is handpicked for you as an individual. Much more important if you ask me."

Draco sniffed, distaste showing on his face. "That's stupid, the family name is always greater than the given one. Otherwise, it would be like everyone was born on the same level." He glanced around the compartment. "Your actions show decent taste though, even if your words do not."

Harry realized that Draco had been appraising the others in the cabin. Checking if they were purebloods, most likely.

"What do you mean?" he forced himself to ask.

"That you've found good company. Pureblood company. Though, some families are better than others. I can show you which, if you'll have it."

"Why would some families be better than others? We're all brothers and sisters in magic on this train."

That pulled Draco up short. "But I could swear you…You told me yourself that we shouldn't accept muggleborns. Back in Madame Malkin's."

"I would say no such thing," Harry said firmly, spreading his arms as he continued on. "There are far more important things than blood, work ethic and kindness chief among them, and to judge off lineage alone is a great injustice."

"You! But! It was…ahhh." Draco was sputtering now, completely lost with Harry's behavior. It only got worse as he realized another change; "Your accent! What happened to your accent? You're speaking completely differently!"

Harry leaned forward with concern in his eyes, "I've no idea what you're on about, are you sure you're feeling alright? We've another two hours yet before we reach the school, you have time to take a rest if you need it."

With visible effort, Draco managed to recover his bearing. "I'm not sure what you're up to Potter, but I'd watch yourself. Sitting in a cabin with blood traitors and lesser families isn't good for your standing. Spend too much time with this lot," he gestured to Ernie, Hannah, and Daphne, "and you might just end up like your parents."

Hannah gasped and Harry could see Ernie's hands ball into fists. Daphne was staring out the window unmoving, but he had expected that. Draco was winning no friends in this room. The boy was either certain that he would come out on top in a confrontation, or he had absolutely no sense of self preservation.

"If you mean dying heroes' deaths to cast down a great villain, I'll happily follow in their footsteps." Harry responded heartily.

"If that's what bleeding out on your own floor is called these days." Draco shot back.

Ernie looked about ready to leap up and sock the boy, and he might've actually done it if a new voice hadn't broken in.

"They weren't the only ones to die on that floor though, were they?" Daphne's voice wrang out. It was the most monotone insult Harry had ever heard, but it seemed to strike a chord in Malfoy, who glared at the girl.

"Come on Crabb, Goyle, we're leaving. Any longer in here and we might catch something." And with that they were gone, Draco whirling and shutting the door on his way.

A moment of silence passed, before it was broken by Ernie. "He's such a prick."

"Language," Hannah chided, slapping his arm lightly. Her heart didn't seem to be in it though, likely because she was thinking something along the same lines.

Harry just watched the door through which Draco had fled. He had grown used to hearing his parents insulted, living with the Dursleys as he had, but that didn't mean he was going to let Draco off after the lines he was hurling around. At least he wouldn't have to break character to show his animosity. His golden boy persona wouldn't play nice with such an outspoken bigot, after all. "That boy is certainly rather confident in expressing his views."

Ernie snorted. "He knows he can get away with it," he explained. "Half the ministry owes their position to his father, and another quarter are in the man's pocket. He's even on the Hogwarts school board. The Malfoys have a finger in a lot of pies."

Harry blinked, maybe there was a reason Draco was so ready to throw his weight around. "That's allowed? I wouldn't have expected something so deplorable as corruption in the very spine of the government!"

Ernie smiled, but it was a bitter one. "Get used to it. My dad's a mid-level ministry official. My sending off gift for Hogwarts? A list of classmates to kiss up to. 'Never too early to start thinking about your career, son' he says." Ernie shook his head sardonically. "You were top of the list, by the way."

"You're off to a great start then. It's been a pleasure to meet you, Ernie."

He smiled at that and seemed to cheer up some. Good, Harry thought, if he were overly emotional his information wouldn't be as accurate as it could be. He had picked up a few things about the wizarding world from his visit to Diagon Alley, and a few more from the books he bought there, but he needed to learn a hell of a lot more, fast. "How is the ministry set up, anyway? Who holds the power?"

This time Hannah answered. "The minister, I guess. Though the Wizengamot – That's the parliamentary group made up of the old families – can veto anything the minister proposes with a vote," She shrugged.

"There's no elected officials?" Harry asked.

"The minister. They run elections every seven years. Wizengamot's all assigned seats, though. They predate the ministry, and only the original families can decide when to add new ones. It's happened before, where a family of at least 5 generations gets added, but it's pretty rare," Hannah explained.

"Shouldn't you know some of this?" Ernie asked. "The Potters are founding members. You're like, one step off royalty around here."

That was news to them. Thinking back to his vault in Gringotts, the small fortune he had seen suddenly made a lot more sense. "I've grown up rather separated from politics," he said with a smile.

"You grew up with muggles!" Ernie said breathlessly.

"Yes. I said so earlier, you know," Harry remarked.

"But you're Harry Potter!" Ernie exclaimed, stressing the name.

"Do not pass judgement so recklessly. Muggles are just as capable of raising a child as the most powerful of wizards or witches." Which is why the ones that raised me are at the top of my shitlist, Harry added in his head.

Ernie had the sense to look embarrassed. "Sorry. It's just, well, everyone tells so many stories about what you were doing all these years Some people said Dumbledore was raising you, some said you were traveling the world to fulfill your potential, there was even a story making the rounds that you were adopted by the Flamels! No one ever thought you wouldn't even be living with magic."

"I see it as a gift. It means I get to experience the wonders of this world to their fullest extent. This way, I won't take anything for granted."

A clattering arrival outside the door halted their conversation. "Any candy, dears?" an old woman asked, leaning her head into the room. Ernie and Hannah picked up a selection of items, and even Harry bought a few. The conversation moved to lighter topics after that point, with Harry receiving a crash course in wizarding candy. By the end of it Harry concluded that wizards had some of the strangest taste he'd ever seen. Who wants their chocolate to try and escape? Seemed like an unnecessary risk to your investment.

When the voice of a prefect warned that it was time to get changed, Harry and Ernie found themselves booted into the hallway, shooed out by an energized Hannah. Looking down the hall, he could see the same bushy haired girl that had stopped by earlier hurrying about, still questing to discover some lost toad. It wasn't even her toad, from what he remembered her saying, and Harry couldn't help shaking his head at her. Wasting hours just to help a stranger, What a fool.

O-O-O-O-O

If Harry thought Gringotts was beautiful, Hogwarts was beyond description. An immense structure of majestic stone that dominated the horizon, towers rising to dizzying heights above ornate doors. Yet, it was also suffused with a homely warmth that could be felt even from Harry's boat, a thousand feet from the castle itself. He wasn't alone in his opinion either if the faces of his peers were anything to go by. Gaping mouths were a dime a dozen, and a feeling of excitement seemed to be unanimous.

Harry's immediate company actually numbered among the least openly awed. He had separated from Ernie and Hannah while exiting the train, though somehow, he remained close to Daphne through some strange coincidence. She sat directly ahead of him now, in the small rowboat. Beside her was a serious looking black boy with a stiff expression. Taking up the rear with Harry was a stocky, homely girl- and not in the manner of Hogwarts. She had a pug nose, wide face, and eyes that seemed too small for her face. Harry hadn't gotten her name, nor that of the boy riding beside Daphne, but in that moment he hadn't particularly cared. Hogwarts was rather good at monopolizing attention.

It felt so inviting now that he'd laid eyes on it, and it was finally starting to sink in just what this place could offer him. It had resources, from teachers to libraries to whatever else he could find. But most importantly, it would offer him freedom. He would be able to learn and do things without interference from his relatives. I can create my language here, Harry realized with an excited start.

Thoughts racing over the new possibilities, Harry barely noticed as he exited the boats and joined the precession up to the castle's door. He did notice when Hagrid passed custody of them off to another teacher, and he took the chance to study the new face.

She was an older woman, though too young to qualify as simply old. Her face was stern, her eyes were stern, and her posture was stern. No wonder she was the choice to meet new students, she was a walking, breathing example of the stereotypical no-nonsense teacher!

"The firs' years 're here, Professor McGonagall." Hagrid called out to her.

"I'll take them from here Hagrid," She called out. "Thank you."

Hagrid nodded at the dismissal and trudged off into the night. After watching his departing form for a moment more, the now named McGonagall turned back to the students. "Follow me, now."

Trailing after the professor, the pack of first years glanced this way and that, trying to absorb every detail of the hallways through which they walked. Passing a doorway with noise roaring through from the other side, the first years were instead led to a much smaller room off to the side.

"Ahem!" Professor McGonagall drew attention onto herself. "The Welcome feast will be beginning in short order. This is an occasion for all years, but for you all it will be a particularly special one. You will be sorted into your house, what will become your family of sorts for your stay here. You will eat meals, attend your classes, and sleep with your housemates."

"There are four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Each of them prizes a different trait, but all of them have long and varied histories of producing upstanding witches and wizards. Over your time here you will participate in the house cup, an annual competition between the houses, and exemplary actions on your part will earn your house points toward that end. Beware, however, because any instances of rule breaking, or otherwise punishable behavior, will see you losing a varying number of those hard-won points."

"The Sorting Ceremony will begin momentarily, and it will be done in front of the entire school. I will return when we're ready for you, so in the meantime, do try to freshen up." The last part was said with some exasperation and a rather pointed look at a chubby boy whose cloak was askew. The boy looked ready for the ground to swallow him at that point, but the only movement in the room was the closing door swinging shut in McGonagall's wake.

The second the Professor was out of sight a low hum of chatter started up. The chatter slowly rose in volume, but everyone seemed to be speaking more quietly than usual, the nerves of the occasion making an appearance.

Harry tuned them out, instead covering what he knew of the four houses in his mind. He couldn't allow himself to go to Slytherin. It wasn't that he had anything against cunning or ambition, quite the opposite, but going into Slytherin would attract even more attention than he currently got, and all of the wrong sort.

Ravenclaw, the house of intelligence, was also an undesirable. His interest in language would fit in well in this house, but it would be a horrible mismatch for his golden boy persona. He wanted people to think of Harry Potter as a naïve hero, and that was about the last thing people connected to the house of the quiet and studious.

Hufflepuff, he could work with. They were loyalty and hard work personified, well liked but commonly looked down upon. It may cost him some of the general respect he was looking to court but ending up there wouldn't be a crippling blow to his plan.

The real goal though, was Gryffindor. It was a perfect fit. The house of his parents, of the brave, of the righteous. They were the act first think later crowd and that was exactly what he wanted people to expect from him.

A shriek rang out from the other side of the room, and Harry wondered if McGonagall had returned suddenly and startled someone. She hadn't.

Instead, floating through a wall, directly toward the crowd of eleven-year-olds, was a crowd of ghosts.

They were casually chatting with each other, seemingly oblivious to the crowd they had suddenly accrued. Said crowd was anything but oblivious to the ghosts, however. Harry could see more than a few muggleborn – and even a few that he thought were purebloods – shivering at the sight of them.

"Ah! First years!" called out a monk-looking ghost. "About to be sorted, are you? I hope to see you in Hufflepuff! that was my old house."

There were a few shaky nods of acknowledgement, but most seemed too nervous to give a reaction. There were more than a few relived faces, then, when Professor McGonagall made her return.

"Out, all of you." She barked at the ghosts, casually watching as they filed out through a solid wall. "Now, you all! Form a line please. Orderly now!"

Filing into the coalescing line, Harry noticed anxiety making a return on many of those faces that had shown relief at McGonagall's dismissal of the ghosts. They had suddenly remembered, it seemed, just what McGonagall would be leading them to now that she had returned.

Stepping through the double doors, Harry felt the Great Hall suddenly envelope him. The air was thick with candles, hundreds of them, each floating naturally in the air. Beyond them, hanging across the ceiling, was a moving rendition of the night sky. No, calling it a rendition didn't do it justice. Each piece, from the clouds to the moon, were moving perfectly in time. This was more than a mere recreation; this was a microcosm of the sky in all its glory. The sight was enough to give Harry pause in his step, and he likely would've caused quite the collision if those behind him hadn't frozen just as he had.

By the time McGonagall stopped, stopping the line behind her in turn, the first years were standing under the eyes of the entire hall, teachers at their back and students to the front.

It was the most eyes he'd ever felt on him, but he flat out refused any hints of stage fright that threatened to leak into his mind. Instead, he favored the multitude of unfamiliar faces with a confident, relaxed smile.

McGonagall meanwhile had stepped to the center of the room and pulled out, was that an old hat?

The hat was set upon the stool, and a hole quickly opened near its base, allowing it to talk. No, scratch that, to sing.

Old may I be

Moth ridden, as you see

But looks may deceive

And from me, a house ye shall receive

To Slytherin perhaps you'll go

If cunning and ambition are traits you know

Or Hufflepuff instead

If with loyalty you tread

Ravenclaw is for you

If knowledge shapes all you do

Or even Gryffindor could be your destination

If you would stand bravely against desolation

But a word of warning

If you will

Beware in your acting

That you don't fall for the thrill

Here, the walls have eyes

And though your health will be safe

Your charade of massive size

Could blow up in your face

But come one, come all

Place me one your head

And surrounded by friends

You'll sleep tonight on your bed

All around the hall noise erupted. Harry could see older years turning franticly to friends with questions on their lips. He couldn't see the staff, positioned directly in front of them as he was, but he could hear their voices adding to the clamor. Whatever they had expected from the hat's song, that had not been it.

Which was good to know because Harry himself was a bit shaken. That had felt like a warning, and it felt like it was directed at him. If that wasn't the norm, as the Hall's reaction was suggesting, that just increased the chance that it was addressed to him. That implied that something already knew about his act, and it was a hat, no less. Besides, if a hat knew, then who else might?

"Attention!" Professor McGonagall's voice rang out far louder than was natural. Looking back at her, Harry noticed her wand tip resting against her throat, and realized that it must be performing some sort of amplification spell. "Unusual song or no, we are here for a purpose, and that is to complete the Sorting Ceremony. This means that chatter, in any form, will be curbed. If you cannot hold your tongue until mealtime has begun, you will find your house starting from the negative in the house cup this year."

She cast a glare around the room, daring anyone to speak again, but none took her up on it. Nodding to herself, she turned to address the first years. "I will call your names, one at a time, and when I do, you will step forward and place the hat on your head. Now, Abbott, Hannah!"

Watching Hannah walk forward, Harry was reminded of her tentative steps into the cabin back on the Hogwarts Express. Except this time, multiply it by a hundred. She was practically quivering by the time she sat down on the stool, but she pulled the hat on all the same. Luckily for her, the hat barely rested on her head before it screamed out "Hufflepuff!"

Rising quickly and scurrying to her new table, she was greeted with cheers and claps from the Hufflepuffs already seated there. Before she even touched the bench McGonagall called a new name, and "Bones, Susan!" began her own version of the process. A near exact replication in fact, right down to being sorted into Hufflepuff.

Watching student after student step forward, Harry began a game in his mind. Watching their mannerisms, and how confidently they moved to put on the hat he would guess what house they would go to. Most people just looked nervous out of their minds though, and he only got a handful correct, but it kept him entertained until "Potter, Harry!"

As he strode casually toward the stool, Harry was well aware of the hush that had fallen over the room. Many had begun to grow bored with proceedings, turning to whisper to friends or fantasizing about the food that would soon be available. That was gone, now. Every single set of eyes in the room seemed to be watching Harry, so he favored them all with a bold smile as he pulled the hat on.

"Hmmmm, oh? Yes, yes, I see." A sudden voice rang through his head.

"You can talk?" Harry couldn't stop himself from asking. Besides, given that all the sortings before him had been silent affairs, Harry really doubted anyone in the hall could hear his words.

"Shush, I need to concentrate. Oooh, so that's where that…and then, over there is…alright, that should do it."

"Do what? what are you doing?"

"Reading you," The had said, sounding amused. "You really are an interesting study, quite the fascinating mind you possess."

"Was your song directed at me?" Harry asked, figuring that the cat was already out of the bag about his persona, so he might as well get some clarification.

The hat projected a mental image of a shaking head. "I do not know everything about which I sing, Mr. Potter. My sentience and my songs owe to separate enchantments. I can say that some of Helena's seer abilities may influence my lyrics, but anymore detailed explanation is beyond even me."

"Great," Harry thought. "But if you read my mind, that must mean you know that I want to go to Gryffindor."

"Indeed, I did read your mind, which is why we both know that it's Salazar's house, not Godric's, that is the perfect fit for you."

With a sinking feeling in his chest, Harry wracked his brain, looking for anything to convince the hat against such a decision. "I put you on though, allowed you to see my memories, and you know how much I value my privacy. That's a clear instance of bravery."

The hat just snorted. "I meant it when I said I read your mind, you know. You had no idea how I worked before putting me on. Though, please do continue with your arguments, they just prove how perfect you are for Slytherin."

Fucking smug hats, Harry grumbled in his head.

"I heard that."

Fucking smug telepathic hats, Harry amended, trying to ignore the howling laughter that filled his head. "I knew that you had read my mind, and I still tried to argue with you just now. Taking up an argument that may be a losing one is a form of bravery itself."

"Yet you only took up such an argument because your ambitions were being threatened, and it was through cunning that you were able to generate an argument at all. No, there's only one house for you, and that house is…"

The hat trailed off, drawing in breath for a shout. Or maybe it didn't need the oxygen, magical construct that it was, and it simply had a flair for the dramatic and wished to build the tension. Either way, Harry felt his eyes widen in fear, before squeezing tightly shut in frustration. He hadn't yet been at Hogwarts for a full hour, and his plan was already about to be blasted to pieces.

"Gryfindor!" The hat shouted to the hall.

Harry's eyes snapped open in shock, and he sat there frozen for a minute. The raucous cheers that erupted from the Gryffindor table snapped him out of it a moment later though, and he moved to remove the hat, mind still spinning. Before the hat came off his head, he heard it speak up one final time.

"I'll let you in on a secret, Mr. Potter," it said mischievously. "It's the students who choose their house for themselves, I'm simply here to help them along."

Harry was left grinning as he moved across and took his seat at the celebrating table, and this time he didn't have to fake it. The relief that his plan was still intact was coursing through him, and it left him in quite the good mood. Plus, there was a certain humor in it all. He had been fooling people for years now, without ever being found out, only to get a taste of his own medicine from a hat of all things. I suppose, Harry thought as he settled among the sea of red and gold, that challenges really do come from the places you least expect. There was definitely a lesson in it all, but all Harry could come up with in that moment was to never underestimate a magical object that looked old.

(-)