A/N: I changed the prologue because it revealed too much and took away from the mysteries. If you've read this story before the change, I'm sorry for the spoilers. Just forget about it and reread the new one before continuing on with this chapter. If you're new, welcome and enjoy!
The Houses:
"Longbottom, Neville," called Minerva McGonagall.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"MacDougal, Morag."
"RAVENCLAW!"
"Malfoy, Draco!"
The hat had barely touched the boy's head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
Minerva glanced down on the long parchment listing the names of the first-years and, after a long breath, looked back up at the crowd of children yet to be sorted.
"Malfoy, Peter!"
Slowly, the other boy made his way to the stool and plopped himself down. Unlike the first Malfoy, it stayed on him for a while.
A long while.
Truly, it had been unsettling when Albus urgently called her and Severus to his office that morning three months ago. He expressed his concerns about a boy named Peter Malfoy, the adopted child of a rich and old pureblood wizarding family. She knew then that it wasn't good news. Albus had tried to put on a calm facade, but Minerva could easily see how troubled he looked.
He informed the two professors that the boy will be coming to Hogwarts the following school year, and had earnestly requested for them to always keep an eye on him. He didn't give any reason or explanation as to why, but since it was only her and Severus that was told about this, she eerily suspected it had something to do with the Order.
As time went on with the boy being under the hat, Minerva noticed his fists tightening.
It was several moments later when the Sorting Hat finally shouted.
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The boy's hand shot up to grab the hat and flung it across the Great Hall, hitting the opposite wall, hard.
Everyone in the hall froze in shock. The boy slid off the stool, slumped, looking angry and defeated.
He walked towards the Gryffindor table, though no one cheered at first. It was only after Albus' slow clapping, followed shortly by Minerva's, that everyone in the hall remembered their courtesy. Still, the applause from the Gryffindor table appeared muted.
Ever since Hogwarts came to be, no Malfoy had ever been sorted into anywhere other than Slytherin, much less into the rival house.
Minerva didn't miss the cold glance the boy gave Harry Potter as he trudged past the remaining line of First Years. One sideway-look to Albus and she knew he noticed it as well. The twinkle in the headmaster's eyes was nowhere to be seen.
-oOo-
Peter pouted and peeked over the mountain of mashed potatoes which he had stacked on his plate in order to hide his face.
The Gryffindors had welcomed him hesitantly but he pointedly ignored them. They seemed to have gotten the hint and, once Harry Potter got sorted into the same house, they shifted their attention towards the Boy Who Lived.
He sat alone. This is going to be a long night.
He looked over to the Slytherin table and found Draco Malfoy facing him and holding his arms out to his sides incredulously, mouthing the words, "What are you doing?"
Peter raised his shoulders and screwed his face. "I don't know!"
Draco threw his hands up in exasperation and dropped them sharply to his sides, turning his back on Peter and shoving a treacle tart into his mouth.
Peter scowled. It wasn't my fault I was sorted into the wrong house.
The stupid Sorting Hat had insisted that nothing good will come out of him getting sorted into Slytherin. Apparently, he was neither cunning nor ambitious enough to be in the house. Peter insisted to be sorted anyway, but deep down, he knew the Hat was right. And he hated himself for it. No doubt his incompetence will be seen as betrayal back at home.
He scanned the table and didn't recognise a single friend. All of them were sorted into Slytherin.
He made sure to keep his head turned away from Harry Potter's direction, since the urge to physically hurt him was very strong at the moment.
Thus, he found himself facing a girl to his left. She had been giving him suspicious glances during the whole feast while she talked about Hogwarts, A History to Longbottom, so he was starting to feel uncomfortable.
Peter raised his eyebrows at her, and at that, she glared at him. He forced himself to give her a nonchalant wink to throw her off, and she quickly looked down at her food. He smirked and inwardly patted himself on the back. Works every single time.
Suddenly, he recognised her as the bushy-haired girl he met on the train. She seemed to have taken an interest in Harry, so he felt the urge to have her for himself. He was pretty sure he would have been successful had Draco not insulted her.
Though he felt repulsed when he realised she was a mudblood, he thought she looked decent and proper enough. It wasn't as if he was actually going to befriend her, anyway.
("Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked someone from behind.)
Perhaps he'll just have to try again, he thought. He should properly introduce himself this time.
"Hermione Granger, right?" He almost held a hand out to shake hers, but he instantly brought it back. "I'm Peter Malfoy."
"Pleasure," she said haughtily, keeping her eyes on her food.
"And you're Neville Longbottom," Peter said to the boy across from her, "the one who lost his familiar."
Neville raised one hand from under the table to reveal a toad. "Found him earlier by the lake."
"No thanks to you," Hermione added.
"Oh, yeah, sorry about that," Peter said. "I really wanted to help, but my brother and I were in the middle of something."
"Right." She raised her chin up. "In the middle of causing trouble?"
"We didn't start the fight, you know," Peter tried to explain. "I mean, there wasn't really any fight. We just wanted to introduce ourselves and they were being rude."
She finally took another look at Peter, then to the students over his shoulder. She opened her mouth as if she was about to say something, but the hall suddenly fell silent, cutting her off.
"Ahem." The headmaster had stood up. "Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you." He smiled indulgently. "First years should note that…"
The end-of-feast speech went on for a while, but Peter later found himself being led out of the Great Hall and into the Gryffindor common room. He didn't get to see his brother or his friends for the rest of the night.
Peter was going to say goodnight to Hermione before he retired to the boy's dormitory, but she was already nowhere to be found. Neville had also gone straight to bed, along with the rest of the first years.
Peter looked around the crimson and gold common room, not really recognising any face. He sighed as he trudged his way to the dorm and changed into his pyjamas. He threw himself face first to the only empty poster bed left.
He turned his head to his head and saw the lying figure of a boy with wild dark hair.
Another wave of euphoria surged through him, causing a smile to form on his face for the first time since he came to Hogwarts.
Who says I'm not a Slytherin?
-oOo-
"AAAAHHH!"
"What—wha—AHHHHH!"
"Ngh. Mmh. AHHHH!"
Peter held his pillow tighter against his face, trying to hide his snicker. He heard his dorm mates scramble their way out of their beds.
"What the bloody hell's your face doing all over my bed?" a high voice said.
"For a second there I thought you were about to molest me," said someone with a heavy Irish accent, laughing uneasily.
The high voice chortled, "Harry Potter. Gonna mol—"
"That's not me!" exclaimed Potter.
"Of course, they are. There're your scar and glasses and everything."
"No, I mean it wasn't me who did that!"
"Who did it, then?" came Weasley's voice.
Everyone went silent and Peter could now feel their eyes looking at his direction. He forced himself to stop laughing as he heard his curtain roll aside and a hand shook his shoulder.
Peter groggily pushed the pillow away from his face and slowly opened his eyes. He looked around and saw five heads staring down at him. Well, five if you didn't count the huge likeness of Harry Potter's face sewn on the roof of his poster bed, as well as the several ones on each curtain... and bedding.
"Ahhhh!" Peter feigned shock. "What the—"
"Did you do this?" Harry asked menacingly.
"Why in the world would I do this?" Peter spat back.
"Then who did?"
"I don't know, you, probably? We get it, Potter. You're famous. You don't need to shove your face on us any more than you already are."
"I know it's you, Malfoy." Harry leaned forward to tower over Peter. Peter sat up and pushed him to the floor.
"Hey!" Ron said, helping Harry up.
Peter got up from his bed and walked over to the two.
"Cut it out, Malfoy," Thomas said as he and Finnigan tried to hold him back. Peter just continued forward and stopped right in front of Harry's face.
Ron stepped in between them and pushed Peter with all his weight. "Back off Malfoy!"
Peter let himself be nudged back to review the situation.
Really? Four on one? He just noticed that Neville was nowhere to be seen. Whatever. Peter knew he could easily take them on, so he chuckled.
"Are you sure you guys are wizards?" he asked. "Because I'm not seeing any of your wands out."
He pulled his wand out from his pyjama pocket and pointed it at Harry Potter. He grinned at their frightened faces.
He taunted, "The Boy Who Li—"
"WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?" a shrill voice cut through the room.
Peter's wand popped out if his hand and flew towards the door. All heads turned towards it, revealing a very angry Professor McGonagall.
"It was Malfoy, Professor!" said Ron immediately.
"No, it wasn't!" Peter argued.
"You pushed Harry first!"
"He cornered me in my bed!"
"That's enough!" said Professor McGonagall sternly. "Your classes haven't even started yet and you're already fighting each other." She spun her head back to look behind her. "Mr Longbottom, would you care to explain to me what happened here."
Neville reluctantly stepped into the room and said in a quiet voice: "Erm, well, I woke up... and I saw Harry's face all over my bed... and I sort of screamed."
The professor raised an eyebrow.
Neville fidgeted with his hands and continued, "Then everyone woke up and started screaming as well."
He led the professor to show everyone's beds as Peter and Harry continued to glare at each other.
"Whoever did this," said Professor McGonagall, arms crossed, "certainly has a talent for weaving. If I see this happen one more time, I hope they're considering it as a career prospect because they will not be coming back to this school. Is that understood?"
Everyone nodded in varying degrees of compliance.
"The five of you will have detention with me for the rest of the week," she said, giving everyone involved in the scuffle a strict look. "And ten points each from Gryffindor. Fifteen points to Mr Longbottom for coming to me before this escalated any further."
She pointedly looked at Peter. "Mr Malfoy, with me to the headmaster's office."
What about Potter! "Yes, professor," Peter grumbled. So much for making his life miserable.
Peter shook his head as he followed Gryffindor Head of House out of the dormitory. His mind cleared once they exited the common room and began their long trip to the headmaster's office.
After a few minutes of walking in silence, Peter admitted: "It was me, Professor. I knitted Potter's face all over everyone's beds.
"I was aware."
Peter looked up at the professor. Her face looked slightly softer now that the tension was gone.
She pulled a yarn ball from her pocket and said, "I summoned this from under your bed."
Damn, Mother never did that.
"Now, I hope you've learned your lesson to not violate your roommates' privacy in the midst of your silly little pranks? I will be expecting better behaviour from you from now on."
"Er, yes, professor," Peter said faintly. "It was just a prank."
At once, they reached a gargoyle and Professor McGonagall whispered a password. She gestured for Peter to enter.
Peter kept his head down as he stepped onto the spiral staircase leading to the headmaster's office. He didn't even realise they reached their destination when Professor McGonagall knocked on the wooden door and they entered the waiting room. She told Peter to wait there before leaving him all by himself.
Peter looked around the large, circular room, filled with various silver magical instruments. It reminded him of one of the guest rooms in Malfoy Manor. Particularly, the room he was in when he first roused as a Malfoy instead of a… a Par… Parkinson? No, he was certainly not related to Pansy. He woke up to a completely new environment. It was too unfamiliar for him to be related to any wizard in Britain.
Everyone's accents were so odd to him back then, as if everyone else forgot how to speak properly all of a sudden. He first woke up to his mother's pretty face, though for some reason he thought she didn't look that much older than him at first. He felt like he was trapped in a smaller body, and he still felt like it sometimes.
His now-brother, Draco, was dragged into the room soon after his waking up. The pale boy had snubbed him at first, but they soon grew to be the closest of friends. Peter smiled at the memory of Draco letting him ride his toy broom for the first time not long after that day.
"Hello, Peter."
The headmaster's friendly voice ended Peter's musings. He didn't look too impressive for being one of the most powerful wizards alive. Peter didn't expect much anyway. His father had regularly stated that he was just an old senile man way past his prime.
"Professor Dumbledore," Peter said curtly.
Dumbledore smiled as he conjured a stool and sat down on it, motioning for Peter to sit on the couch from across a little coffee table. Peter plopped himself down on it, not taking his eyes off of the old man. Dumbledore waved his hand towards a jar of sweets on the table, and Peter took one. He began unwrapping it as Dumbledore started to talk.
"I understand it must have been a hard first night for you, feeling like you were sorted into the wrong house. You might feel that you've betrayed your friends and family."
"I don't belong in Gryffindor," Peter said as he stared at the unwrapped candy between his fingers.
"If you didn't belong to Gryffindor," said Dumbledore, looking to the side, "the Sorting Hat would not have placed you there."
Peter followed his gaze and saw a sleeping Sorting Hat on top of a shelf. He pleaded, "Can I please be re-sorted?"
"I don't think that would be necessary, Peter."
"But I have no friends there," Peter looked up, his eyes starting to moisten. "All of them are in Slytherin. Well, except for Roger—he's a third year in Ravenclaw. I'm sure I'll do good in Ravenclaw at least—better, even. I'm smart! Please, headmaster."
Dumbledore chuckled indulgently and placed a hand on Peter's shoulder. "You're confusing the houses as a personality trait, though I can't blame you for that. It's a common misconception."
Peter scoffed and pushed Dumbledore's hand away. He resumed staring at the candy in his hand.
"When you first learned about magic, what did you think about it?" Dumbledore asked.
"I dunno," Peter mumbled. "I suppose I felt powerful."
"Did you feel the need to explore that power?"
"Er, sort of, but I didn't have a wand until a few months ago."
Dumbledore leaned forward. "Did you want to share it with others?"
"What do you mean?" Peter leaned back.
"Or did you want to keep it for yourself?"
"I don't see why I would have to; everyone I know has their own magic."
"Do you feel like you need to use it do good? To stand up for what is right?"
A chill went down Peter's spine at those words. Words that struck a chord in him. Words that felt so comforting, yet so tragic at the same time. It wasn't the euphoric sensation he felt whenever he heard Harry Potter's name, nor was it the tingling sensation whenever he felt like he was in danger. It was a guiding sensation that brought a certain loss along with it. Like a small light in a long tunnel of darkness, though where the darkness came from, he didn't know or understand.
He knew he had a decent childhood, even from the little he remembered from before he had magic. Everything was sunshine and rainbows for him. So why did he feel darkness somewhere?
"With great power comes great responsibility," Peter whispered. Where in the bloody hell did he hear that from?
Dumbledore calmly retreated into his chair and picked a candy from the candy jar. "That's an interesting way of putting it." He popped it into his mouth and smiled brightly at Peter.
Peter glanced down at the unwrapped candy in his own hand once again and finally ate it, albeit reluctantly. He grimaced at the aggressive taste of sweet and sour.
"The Sorting Hat chooses for a reason," Dumbledore said. "If you were sorted into Gryffindor, then it knows you'll do best in it."
"How does it know that?"
"Because you value courage more than you seek power." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "And you know you're very powerful."
Peter scowled. "The hat told you that, didn't it," he said resentfully.
"It didn't need to."
Peter took a deep breath. "I'm the only one in my family to be ever put in Gryffindor."
"That is true, but you weren't the first from a family of Slytherins. I've witnessed a similar situation myself not too long ago, in fact." Dumbledore looked down to the floor. "It's just for you to decide how you will turn out in the end. You and no one else. I can only hope that you do good, my boy."
And Peter did too.