Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I do not own Harry Potter. Therefore, all of this incredible universe where this fanfiction will take place belongs to J. K. Rowling. No profit, except my entertainment, is being made.

Thank you all very much for all of the reviews, followings and favourites! I hope I can continue to build a nice story for you all.

Mendacium - S1/C2 - Hogwarts

September first of 1988 - King's Cross Station - Between Platform Nine and Ten

Hardin had been staring at what seemed to be a very solid barrier between Platform Nine and Ten, the supposed entrance to the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, for about five minutes now, and he still wasn't convinced he wouldn't crash against it.

When Professor McGonagall told him that he would need to walk straight against a wall to get inside the Platform Nine and Three-Quarters – and consequently inside the Hogwarts Express – Hardin truly believed she was messing up with him. He honestly had hoped to see a door saying Magical Folk Only that would take him to the correct place.

Apparently, Professor McGonagall wasn't joking. He needed to have a good conversation with the people that projected this brilliant way to get into the Platform. Maybe for wizards and witches, running against walls was a common thing, but not for the ones that had been muggle raised.

Sighing and accepting that this was the only way for him to start his new life in the Magical World, finally, Hardin pushed his trolley towards the barrier. It still looked very solid.

Hardin started to walk, slowly increasing his velocity. He was a few meters away from the inevitable crash - it would be such a humiliating collision. He leaned forward on his trolley and broke into a heavy run. Now, there was no turning back. He would either break inside the Platform or break himself in the process. A few inches away from the barrier, he closed his eyes, waiting for the crash…

But it never came.

When Hardin created enough courage to re-open his eyes, he could only gasp in surprise with the beautiful sight of the scarlet red steam engine - the Hogwarts Express.

Platform Nine and Three-Quarters' view was something to remember as the first time he had seen the Diagon Alley. Just to be sure, Hardin looked back at the barrier and spotted a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, containing the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. He had officially done it - and it was worth the mention that he didn't have a single scratch from the so feared crash.

Hardin started to push his trolley down the Platform, searching for an empty compartment he could join in with a happy smile on his face.

As he walked, he saw some families crying while saying goodbye, a group of girls talking about their vacations, and...some older boys playing with a miniature dragon? Hardin needed to start expanding his horizons to the new information the Wizarding World would bring him.

He couldn't help but feel a little jealous over all those kids with their families and family friends, saying goodbye and hugging each other. For a moment, maybe a little longer than he would like to admit, he wished he could switch places with them. Being the one with a family for some change wouldn't hurt.

As he got in the very last carriage of the train, the most likely to be empty, Hardin shoved and heaved his trunk toward the train door – after some effort, he successfully placed it inside the train. He needed to learn if there was some spell to make things lighter. It could be handy. Maybe they even sold an enchanted trunk – not that he would be able to buy it.

Hardin got inside the first compartment he saw and locked the door - he would rather stay alone if he could. Over the last few years, his relationship with people his age had been quite awful, and he didn't want to risk ruining his first day in Hogwarts because he found out that he would still be friendless in the Wizarding World.

'Things will be different now, Hardin.' He said to himself. 'Everyone is like you. You'll be fine.'

The truth was: Hardin didn't know if everything would indeed be fine.

After his first travel to the Diagon Alley, giving him enough shreds of evidence to hypothesize about the possibility of his parents being alive and having, willingly, dropped him off in an orphanage, he had no idea of what could be waiting for him now that he would live a whole year in the Wizarding World.

Oh, yes, the Potters. Not a single day had passed by that Hardin hadn't thought about them. How could it be any different? After all, Hardin had always imagined that he was in the orphanage because his parents had died. Now, having the possibility of his parents giving upon him was a complicated situation to ignore.

On the day after he saw the Potter family, he had crashed into Mr Wool's office to find his file, as he wanted to verify if it was indeed Harry Potter, the name he had given for the staff. Perhaps, it had been Porter, and he was creating an entire theory out of nothing. Obviously, he had gotten the correct name, as well as a picture of himself with four years old. It was impossible not to notice that his younger self looked like Edward Potter's clone, except for his eyes.

Now, comparing his eleven-year-old self with Edward, he could see the resemblance, but they were quite different. Once Hardin went back to the Diagon Alley, he had managed to get a picture from the Potters from a newspaper called the Daily Prophet, which allowed him to notice that his facial features were softer than Mr Potter and Edward's ones. He had stared at the photo for so long that Hardin was confident he could make a list of all of the differences and similarities he had observed. His nose wasn't as long; his eyes had a different shape; his eyebrows were thinner; his cheekbones were higher…

He didn't know what he would do to find out the truth as he knew close to nothing about how the Wizarding World worked. The first thing he had to do was figure out if the Potters had any other kids before Edward was born, but, so far, none of the witches and wizards he had asked about the Potters knew about the existence of an older child. The books also claimed that Edward was the firstborn of the couple and brother to Primrose and Henry Potter.

Henry Potter, not Harry Potter.

Hardin had never been a book rat, but he had spent almost the entire August month reading so he could find information about them. He had flicked through at least a dozen of history books and unofficial biographies, that talked or mentioned the Potters, yet none of them mentioned the existence of a Harry Potter. At least, he had learned why they were famous.

Apparently, on the Halloween night of 1981, a dark wizard - who books referred to as You-Know-Who, although Hardin didn't know who - had tried to kill the Potters. However, both Lily and James Potter were out of the house, and only Edward was there with his grandparents. Nobody knows what happened that night, but the accepted theory was that Edward, somehow, had been able to survive the Killing Curse and redirect it to the caster, causing the dark wizard to disappear. Due to the events of that night, Edward possessed a lightning scar on his forehead. Ever since then, he was hailed as the Boy Who Lived and was the most famous celebrity in Britain - even if he was only one year old when everything happened.

Honestly, Hardin had been a little surprised. The whole story seemed odd to him. After all, how can a baby do something that none adult had ever done? How can a baby be stronger than a fully grown wizard? However, he was probably the only one bothered with this story as all of the people he had asked seemed to believe in it completely.

Another thing that bothered him was the date. The attack had happened on Halloween, and Hardin was found at the orphanage doorstep on November first of that same year. The closeness of the dates had made him even more suspicious.

While a part of him wanted to figure out this entire mess, the other wanted him to ignore it and keep his life going. What would he do if his hypothesis were correct? Chase for vengeance? Beg for them to accept him back? Forgive them? He didn't know those answers.

He also hadn't forgotten about the other Hardin Sayre that Ollivander had mentioned. However, if finding information about Harry Potter was difficult, finding something about Hardin Sayre was impossible. At least the name Potter was mentioned somewhere.

'Forget about it, Hardin.' He thought, 'You are going to Hogwarts now. Don't ruin your day thinking about this all over again. It's useless. It's only a coincidence - a massive coincidence.'

As he looked over the window, he realised the Express had already left King's Cross and was now passing through beautiful green fields. For a while, he stared at the landscape, enjoying the peaceful feeling it transmitted.

Close to lunchtime, Hardin was already starving – he should have stolen something to eat from the orphanage's kitchen. Getting his money porch out of his pocket, he counted how many coins he still had after his multiple trips to Diagon Alley. He was pretty disappointed to see that he only had one sickle and three knuts left.

'I hope sweets here are cheaper than in Sugarplum's.' Hardin thought after remembering how much he had spent in the last time he had gone to the Alley. Yes, he knew he had spent his money on stupid things, but, in his defence, he's a child, and it had been worthy – Chocolate Frogs are incredible.

He left his compartment and started to chase a restaurant car or someone selling things in a trolley. It was improbable that the Hogwarts Express wouldn't contain something of the kind – if they didn't, they were losing an incredible opportunity to make money.

He had to walk for about four carriages, but he eventually found a friendly-looking lady with a trolley with Honeydukes Express written in it. Just by seeing the food, Hardin's stomach already made a noise.

Hardin waited a bit in line with a couple of girls while the lady was selling sweets to an older boy. The first girl had very angelic features, with her curly blonde hair, round face, and big blue eyes. However, the other girl had light brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and bright green eyes – more brilliant than his own had ever been.

Unlike the blonde one that hadn't paid him any attention, the brown-haired girl had given him a warm smile as he approached the trolley. He wasn't sure why she had done it, but it had made him feel welcomed. He felt so comfortable that he smiled back at her, something he didn't remember doing for a long time.

"Two Chocolate Frogs and a Liquorice Wand, please." Once the lady turned her attention to her, the brunette girl said the lady quickly gave her the sweets and collected the money – four sickles and seven knuts. "Thank you!"

"No problem, dear." The lady said friendly and then turned around to the blonde one. "What about you?"

"A Chocolate Frog and a Cauldron Cake, please."

"It'll be two sickles and eight knuts."

"Oh, right..." The girl said while looking into her purse, trying to get all the coins out of it at once, making them drop on the floor – which caused the brunette girl to laugh. "I'm sorry! Just one more minute..."

"Take your time, dear." The lady said, turning around and facing Hardin while the two girls picked up the floor's coins. "What about you, darling? What do you want?"

"Uh...Any chance I can get a Chocolate Frog with one sickle and three knuts?" He asked, feeling somewhat awkward – he was sure that it had something to do with both girls watching him.

"Chocolate Frogs are one sickle and twelve knuts." She then pointed to some small-looking chocolate bars. "But the regular chocolate bars are seventeen knuts each if you are interested."

"Oh, then give me one of them," Hardin said, a little disappointed that he wouldn't be getting another Chocolate Frog. "Thanks."

Hardin got his chocolate and made his way to return to his compartment without looking back at the girls. He felt a bit embarrassed for not being able to afford what he wanted to buy. It was stupid, and he knew it, but he couldn't avoid it.

He was a carriage away from his compartment when he heard a female voice:

"Oi, wait up."

Turning around, he saw the brunette girl walking towards him, still with a sweet smile on her face. She got close to him - too close in his opinion - and placed something inside his pocket.

"You almost forgot it."

Taking his eyes off her for a second, Hardin placed his hand inside the pocket and took out whatever she had placed there: a Chocolate Frog. Hardin immediately tried to find her, but she had already disappeared. He wanted to return it, saying he didn't need her charity, that she could keep it to herself. But she had just disappeared. What kind of person makes a good action and then disappears before they can be praised for it? It didn't make sense in his head.

Considering he wasn't going to walk more just to search for the girl, Hardin opened the Chocolate Frog and ate it as he walked back to his compartment. He would pay her back later, he had decided. Staying in debt with someone was not something Hardin looked forward to.

He took a look at the Chocolate Frog card he had just received and was disappointed to see he had received another Albus Dumbledore. From the four Chocolate Frogs he had eaten, two came with the Headmaster and, although he was a rather interesting person, Hardin wished to receive different ones. At least, now he could try to swap cards with the other kids as he had seen in them doing in the Diagon Alley.

As he went back to his carriage, he realised he wouldn't be alone anymore as a dark-haired boy sat inside his compartment. Once he opened the door, the dark-haired boy took his eyes off of a magazine he had in his hands and stared at Hardin, who went straight to the available bench.

Finally, he said, "The trunk is yours?"

"Yes."

"You don't mind if I stay here, do you?"

"No," Hardin shrugged. "Suit yourself."

The boy only nodded in return. Hardin wondered why he was here now. At least half of the trip had already passed, which meant he had to be somewhere else before. Therefore, why had he left his previous compartment?

Not having anything better to do, Hardin observed him. His first impression was that he was whatever equivalent wizards had to a highborn. It wasn't hard to tell. His posture was too correct to belong to a child, his robes were fancy, and he had an air of casual elegance. Still, something about his face told Hardin he could be mistaken. The upturned eyebrows, the pointy ears, the shaggy hairstyle, and the troublemaker gleam in his grey eyes made it difficult for anyone to say that he was highborn. He seemed so incoherent. What sort of person has such elegance but still looks like he could steal your wallet?

For a moment, both boys stayed in silence. For Hardin, it wasn't annoying, but the boy seemed to be quite bothered by it.

"That's a cool jersey you have there." He commented, "Falmouth Falcons is not my team, but I have to admit they have the best beaters."

Confused, Hardin looked down and saw that he was wearing the Quidditch jersey he had bought at that second-hand shop. He didn't know much about Quidditch, and he had only purchased the jersey because it looked cool and cheap. Honestly, his only knowledge was what Hardin had seen at Quality Quidditch Supplies, which consisted of knowing some teams' names and their colours. But, despite knowing almost nothing, he decided to play along. What else could he do? If they didn't talk, they would spend the next hours annoyed with each other.

"Which one do you support?" Hardin asked and, remembering the bright-orange Chudley Cannons uniform, added, "Please don't say Chudley Cannons."

Much to Hardin's surprise, he started to laugh. It was the first time someone was laughing about something he had said and not of him. Though he didn't understand why the boy was laughing, Hardin managed to smile.

"God, I still cannot believe there are people that support Chudley Cannons. They are a joke!" Burke said, still with a happy face on. "Well, much like you, I have a good sense of choice. That's why I'm a Montrose Magpies fan. The best team in the world!"

"One of the greatest," Hardin said, though the only thing he could remember about it was their black and white uniform.

"The greatest." The had a smile on his face. Then, offering Hardin his hand, he said, "I'm Ren, Ren Burke."

Hardin shook his hand, "Hardin Sayre."

Maybe it was just his mind playing with him, but Hardin had the impression Ren seemed a little too pleased with his answer than an average person would be. Hardin could even bet he saw a bit of relief in Ren's expression. But why would Hardin's name matter for him?

"You are a first-year, too, right?"

Ren nodded, "Yes. I've been waiting for this ever since I learned what Hogwarts was. Haven't you?"

"Of course. I can't wait to be there." Hardin quickly said without mentioning that he had only found out about Hogwarts' existence a month ago. Taking a quick look at the card on his hand, he added, "Do you collect the Chocolate Frog cards?"

"Yeah."

"Do you already have Dumbledore? I've just got another one of his."

Ren snorted, "Who doesn't have Dumbledore? I've got at least ten of his. He's the easiest card to get."

Hardin thought about saying that he didn't know much about the cards but kept himself quiet. From the days he had spent in the Diagon Alley, he had seen and read about the different treatments muggle-borns and the ones who supported muggles received - the entire You-Know-Who's ideology was against muggle. After spending years receiving strange looks and being mocked for being an orphan, Harry had no wish for this story to repeat in the Wizarding World. Although he had no idea if his parents - whoever they were - were wizards or not, for as long as he could, he would try to avoid being seen as a muggle-born. He was tired of being the worst. He wanted to be the best.

Therefore, he had to watch out for what he said, as if he didn't, he would be condemned to repeat his life.

"Who else do you have and can swap?" Ren asked, flicking through the cards he had just taken out from his messenger bag.

"Huh, I've got Beatrix Bloxan, Cornellius Agrippa, and Dumbledore. I swapped the others in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago." Hardin lied as it would have been too strange for him to possess only four cards. Having four repeated cards after swapping the others, however, wasn't odd.

"You've got two Bloxans? Really?" Ren asked with widened eyes. "I've been trying to get her for years."

Hardin showed him the card, and the boy looked dumbfounded.

"Who do you want? She's one of the few I've been missing." Ren commented and then handed Hardin his cards. "Here, apart from Fulbert, you can get any three that you need."

It was a bold move, but it was worth a shot, "If you let me take five, she's yours."

"Deal."

Hardin gave Ren his Beatrix Bloxan card and then picked five cards in Ren's pile: Falco Aesalon, Elthered the Ever-Ready, Dzou Yen, Carlotta Pinkstone, and Cliodne. He had lost one card, but he had gotten five others. In his opinion, he had made a good deal.

From all the cards, the one that had gotten his attention the most was Carlotta Pinkstone's one:

Famous campaigner for lifting the International Confederation of Wizards' Statute of Secrecy and telling Muggles that wizards still exist.

Ms. Pinkstone has been imprisoned several times for her blatant and deliberate use of magic in public places.

It didn't take much to understand that the Statute of Secrecy was likely the law Professor McGonagall had mentioned that prohibited wizards and witches from performing magic in the Muggle World. In Hardin's humble opinion, Carlotta was right. Why should wizards keep themselves hidden instead of muggles? Why couldn't wizards do what was natural to them, but muggles could live as they wished?

He must have stared at the card for a long time because eventually, Ren asked, "You had never heard of Pinkstone before?"

"No," Harry admitted, seeing no point in lying.

"I still think it's ridiculous what they did to her." Ren commented, "Sending her to Azkaban for making magic. An outrage, if you ask me."

Hardin wondered if Azkaban was the only prison they had in Magical Britain. After all, for him, it sounded strange that a woman that performed magic in front of muggles had been sent to the same place as the Death Eaters who had murdered dozens of people - as he learned from the books. It wasn't very fair.

Thinking about his frustration after buying his wand and not being able to use it, Hardin added, "It's like not being able to do magic outside from Hogwarts."

Ren seemed pleased, "Exactly. We are wizards, we have wands, yet we can't use them. All because of those muggles."

"Do you live in the Muggle World?" Harry asked, thinking if, perhaps, Ren had experienced some unpleasant situations with muggles as he had - that would explain the boy's annoyance with them.

"Thankfully, no." Ren said, "I live in a wizarding village in Kent. What about you?"

"Sort of. I live a few blocks away from the Leaky Cauldron."

"And have you met a muggle? What were they like?" He asked with a raised eyebrow. "Were they awful?"

Remembering his last few years in the orphanage, Hardin replied, "I'm probably the last person to have something nice to say about muggles."

Again, Hardin noticed something positively different in Ren's expression.

"To think there are so many wizards that still defend them..." Ren murmured, visibly annoyed, "I'm glad to know you are from the right sort."

Hardin had never felt so relieved. After his conversation with Professor McGonagall, he worried if he would be judged for not liking muggles. It was nice to know that there were people that thought like him. Of course, he had read about You-Know-Who, his views and knew he had many followers who agreed with everything he said, but You-Know-Who was a bit extreme in Hardin's opinion.

"Where do you want to go?"

"What?"

"The houses." Ren said, "Where do you want to go?"

"Oh, I haven't paid much mind to it, honestly," Hardin admitted. "What about you?"

"Slytherin, for sure. And, if I were you, I'd hope to get into Slytherin too." Ren said, "Slytherin is the house of greatness. No muggles and no muggle-borns. It's the best house for people like us."

"I hope I get in Slytherin, then."

With a smile, Ren said, "Don't worry, we both will."

Hardin still didn't care about which house he would end up in. However, Slytherin was slowly gaining a place in his heart. Not because of its characteristics, but because of the muggle-born aspect. If he got sorted into Slytherin, he would finally be sure he isn't a muggle-born, and, for him, this was important. It wouldn't solve his problem with the Potters or give a confirmation there were other Sayres, but it was already something. Besides, it was nice that, for once, someone wanted his presence. He was so used to being excluded that the slightest gestures already meant a lot to him.

"You know, at first, you tricked me."

Harry frowned, "What do you mean?"

"The glasses and the hair," Ren said as if it was obvious, "I was sure you would be a Potter fanatic, another muggle-lover. I'm glad you aren't."

Although his heart was beating faster due to the mention of the Potters and was somewhat embarrassed, he managed to say, "I'm not a muggle-lover. As for the hair, I just can't tame it, you know…"

"Have you ever tried combing cream with Sleekeazy?"

"No,"

"You should try it then," Ren said, "I think I have some in my trunk. I can borrow you later."

"Thanks."

"Don't worry." Ren said and then totally switched the topic, "Have you seen the Puddlemere against Bats game last month?"

"No, I just read about it," Hardin lied.

"Well, it was absolutely incredible…"

Ren told him about the British and Irish League's final game, narrating how a player named Troy had made a new record and, although Hardin didn't understand much of it, Quidditch indeed seemed an interesting sport. Later on, they played Wizard's Chess, and Hardin hoped Ren hadn't noticed how surprised he had been when he saw the pieces destroying each other. He had also been too fortunate that Ren had chosen the white pieces, as if he hadn't, Hardin would never have guessed that you only needed to give them the command, and they would follow.

Over the next few hours, Hardin felt like a normal kid for the first time in a long time. Talking with Ren had been the funniest activity Hardin had done with someone his age - actually, with someone any age - ever since he could remember - not that Ren had much competition.

It was already night-time when a Prefect stopped by their compartment and told them to get dressed since they were almost arriving. Within minutes, they stopped in a station in a village called Hogsmead and waited in line for the other first-years to arrive.

Once he saw the man who was calling for the first years, Hardin asked himself, not even noticing he had vocalized his thought, "What is he?"

"Some half-breed," Ren said with a sneer. "Probably a half-giant. Perhaps he has some troll blood on him too."

'Giants, trolls…' Hardin thought, 'What's next? Werewolves?'

"C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

They followed the man through a narrowed and dark path and, eventually, arrived at the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

Hogwarts was undoubtedly breathtaking.

"Come on, Hardin," Ren said, placing a hand on his shoulder and taking his attention off the castle. "We've got to get into the boats."

The duo joined a boat with a couple of boys that Ren already seemed to know, although Hardin could bet they weren't friends. There wasn't much talking as they were too busy admiring the view to formulating any sentence.

Once they were in front of the castle's door, Professor McGonagall appeared and took them inside. Hardin was perplexed with the size of the entrance hall. The entire orphanage could fit inside it and would still have space for more. Hardin paid no attention to whatever speech Professor McGonagall made as he was too occupied, thinking how fortunate he was. For an entire year, he would be living here. This place was perfect.

As Professor McGonagall told them to make themselves as presentable as possible, Harry removed his glasses. He was glad that the combing cream Ren had shared was efficient in flattening his hair - which generally was a lost cause. Usually, he wouldn't bother using his lenses. However, seeing he was the only one using it, he felt a bit embarrassed. Besides, he didn't want to look like Edward's fans - as Ren had said he looked.

After a few moments of silence, a burly boy by Hardin's side asked, "Do you know how the sorting happens?"

"I've heard it's a sort of test." A girl replied.

"Haven't your father told you, Benny? He's quite famous for being a snitch, isn't he?" Ren said with an amount of acid on his voice that Hardin had never heard before.

"Why don't you mind your own business, Reynard."

"Like your father should have done, right?"

Hardin could swear that both boys would end up fighting with each other if it wasn't for Professor McGonagall's arrival. He wondered what the cause of such animosity was.

She took them inside the Great Hall, and Hardin had never seen such a beautiful place before - the sealing was marvelous. The four tables looked at them with excitement and whispered as they passed. Once they stopped, a hat - the Sorting Hat - sang a song that talked about each house, and later, Professor McGonagall explained how the selection happened.

"Allen, Christopher." Professor McGonagall called, and a ginger boy went to the stool.

As they waited for the hat, Hardin looked around and saw his new year mates' anxious faces. Some, like the blonde girl in front of him, looked like they were about to puke, others were sweaty, and a few, such as Hardin, were trying to distract themselves by looking around the room. They were all nervous - there was no way to deny it.

However, Hardin couldn't point out why he was nervous. After all, he had no family expectations, he knew almost nothing about each house, and he was glad just to be here. Perhaps it was the unconscious fear that it was all just a dream and, at any moment, he would wake up back at the orphanage.

'It isn't a dream, Hardin.' He assured himself. 'You are a wizard, and you'll study in Hogwarts. You'll never go back to the orphanage.'

"HUFFLEPUFF."

The table on the right cheered and clapped - taking Hardin out of his thoughts - as the boy went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table. Hardin saw one of the ghosts, Fat Friar, waving merrily at him. The sorting proceeded, and Professor McGonagall called, "Avery," "Barnes," "Blishwick," "Bole" and, finally, a name that he knew:

"Burke, Reynard."

Ren, who was by his side, walked to the stool rather slowly. Once the hat touched his head, Hardin had the impression they were arguing about something. It must have lasted at least a minute, but the hat finally screamed, "SLYTHERIN."

Hardin watched as his friend got out of the stool with a smile on his face and rushed towards the green table, where the other students were clapping.

For Hardin, the selection passed exceptionally slowly. Some students, such as "Evangeline Hawkworth" or "Miles Osborn", would take ages to be sorted, whereas it would happen almost immediately for other students.

At last, Professor McGonagall called him, "Sayre, Hardin."

Hardin gathered all of his courage and moved towards the stoll, trying to look as confident as possible, but he was likely failing miserably. What if the hat told him that he didn't fit any house? What if they sent him to the orphanage again?

In the end, he only wanted somewhere to belong.

The last thing he saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people staring at him - it was quite intimidating - and was later replaced by the black inside the hat. Much to his surprise, within seconds, the hat screamed, "SLYTHERIN."

As Professor McGonagall removed the hat, Hardin felt she was already expecting him to be sent there. He walked towards the Slytherin table, which was politely clapping, and noticed that Ren had made room for him to sit between him and a girl.

"Welcome to Slytherin, Hardin."

Author's Notes

First, I would like to apologize for any grammar mistakes, especially because English is not my first language, so I may commit some flaws.

OC: I'd just like to say that although there will be OC in this story, the focus is entirely on Harry. None of them will ever steal Harry's spotlight. They are necessary for some aspects of the plot and I'll try my best to not make them Mary Sues or whatever.

Sorting: I know some people like long conversations between Harry and the Sorting Hat, in which the Sorting Hat talks about Harry's unique Occlumency Shields (feel the sarcasm) or whatever, but I've decided against it. For me, the Sorting Hat job is just sorting and, as it had no doubts to where Harry belonged, there was no need for a conversation between them.

Thank you for reading. Please comment and give me your thoughts. I hope you've enjoyed it.