Author's note: Hogwarts!

- Aside from OCs and AUs everything is the property of J. K. Rowling-

-Chapter Two- A Steam Train, Some Friends, A Hat-

'Happy Birthday.'

'Happy Birthday, Harry.'

Harry smiled at his adopted parents as he joined them at the breakfast table, eyeing the champagne and smoked salmon.

'Please, help yourself.' Perenelle invited, gesturing gracefully. 'Isabella and Sebastien will be joining us at lunchtime.'

Harry grinned. He hadn't seen his friends since the day before he'd been to Diagon Alley.

'But, before they come, Perenelle and I would like to give you this.'

Harry took the small box gingerly, opening it to find a ring, a fine band of gold, the soft yellow of a high carat hardened from impractical softness by alchemy, surmounted by a fire opal. Harry carefully picked up the ring, turning it in his fingers to see the gently flickering flame floating deep within the stone.

'You are a Flamel now, Harry.' Perenelle told him. 'It is only right that you should wear the ring to prove it.'

'Thank you.'

Harry carefully slipped it onto his left ring finger. He felt enchantments on the ring adjust its size before the magic expanded and washed over him, leaving him feeling a pleasant glow.

'The ring will allow you access to all of our properties.' Nicholas began. 'It will permit you to portkey here in an emergency, through almost any ward. It is also public proof of your connection to us. Perenelle and I have enemies, of course, but also friends, and our name has power. At Hogwarts, that power is yours to use, to wield, to protect.'

'It must be somewhere here.' Harry said, looking around the station interestedly.

He, Nicholas and Perenelle had portkeyed to a house the Flamels owned in muggle London. They'd taken a car from the street in Mayfair to King's Cross, the alchemist and his wife looking slightly uncomfortable shut inside the muggle vehicle. Now, standing outside the station in casual robes draped with Notice-Me-Not charms, Harry led the way through the crowds of muggles.

Nicholas hummed curiously as he examined one of the walls between platforms nine and ten.

'Fascinating. It's not just an illusion, you know,' he began, glancing back to them, 'if it was then any random muggle could accidentally slip through. It's a real wall that vanishes in the presence of someone with magic, is replaced momentarily by an illusion, and then returns. I should imagine that it is only at the beginning and end of each school term than it is anything other than a perfectly ordinary mass of bricks.'

'Fascinating, darling, shall we move on?' Perenelle prompted, before walking through the barrier, followed by Harry's inconspicuously levitated luggage.

The Hogwarts Express was an impressive sight, even Harry had to admit. Its gleaming, steaming red and black bulk dominated a platform which was almost devoid of students and parents so long before its departure. Harry had wanted to find his own compartment on the train, to have people come to him rather than be forced to join them, a social supplicant. His guardians had also come undisguised, and although he didn't doubt their ability to deal with any situation, he was eager to minimise the risk of them being identified in public.

'Well, this is it.' Nicholas said, eyeing the train before turning to his adopted son. 'Perenelle and I will miss you, Harry. The house will be much quieter without you.'

'A relief, I'm sure.' Harry said drily.

'Hardly.' Perenelle replied, smiling, before she stepped forward to clasp him in a brief embrace and press a kiss to his forehead.

Harry turned and hugged Nicholas too.

'We will see you at the weekend. Stay safe.'

Harry nodded and smiled at the two of them before flicking his Ollivander wand, which he had to remind himself to use, into his hand and taking over the levitation of his cases from Perenelle.

Harry looked up as someone was at last brave enough to knock briefly on the compartment door before sliding it open. Adonis opened his eyes to glare at him in protest as he stopped stroking. The cat had been given his name by Harry when he'd woken up the morning after getting him to find the creature sitting in front of a mirror in his room admiring himself. Perenelle had objected, claiming that Narcissus would have been a far more appropriate name, but Harry preferred Adonis, and his new familiar had seemed to agree.

'Hi, would you mind if my friend and I sat with you?'

Harry smiled at the pretty blonde, gesturing to the bench across from him.

'Of course not, how could I ever refuse the company of two such beautiful women?'

The girl returned his expression, inclining her head politely as she stepped into the compartment, her dark-haired friend following closely and grinning.

'Look, Daphne, a man trying to charm us already. I told you we'd be beating them off.'

'I'm not necessarily opposed…' Harry began, smirking slightly, 'but I've always been taught to take a girl on a date before letting her beat me off.'

The dark-haired girl flushed violently. The blonde's marble cheeks tinged slightly, but she smiled at him.

'I think Tracey meant with a stick.' She told him drily.

Harry lifted an eyebrow.

'That sounds marginally less enjoyable.' He acknowledged. 'Daphne and Tracey, right?'

The blonde girl nodded, extending a hand politely.

'Daphne Greengrass.'

'Harry Flamel.' Harry introduced himself, gratified to see the slight widening of her eyes as he looked up from pressing his lips to her knuckles.

'Flamel?' Tracey asked immediately, apparently far less polished than her friend. 'As in Nicholas Flamel?'

Harry inclined his head. 'My father,' he said, 'Miss?'

'Davis. Tracey Davis.' The girl introduced herself at last, continuing to blush as she put out her own hand for a kiss.

'A pleasure. You are both to be first years as well, I take it?'

'We are.'

'Do you have any idea which houses you'll be in?' He asked curiously.

'I-' Tracey began immediately, before being cut off by the slide of the compartment door.

'Can we join you?' A black-haired boy with handsome Middle Eastern features asked politely.

'Please do.' Harry said, when Daphne and Tracey looked at him as though it was his decision.

The boy grinned and levitated his trunk into the luggage rack, Tracey watching nervously as it hovered above her head for a moment.

'Liram Shafiq.' He introduced himself, 'And this,' he continued, gesturing carelessly behind him, 'is Anthony Goldstein.'

His companion was a couple of inches shorter than him, with dark brown hair and a narrow face. He gave a slightly awkward wave to the three of them before sitting next to Liram on the bench Harry occupied.

'Daphne Greengrass.' Daphne introduced herself again, nodding graciously.

'Tracey Davis.'

'Harry Flamel.'

Harry forced his expression to remain neutral at the poorly concealed shock on the two boys' faces.

'As in Nicholas Flamel?' Anthony repeated Tracey's question.

'As in Nicholas Flamel.' Harry acknowledged.

'So…' Daphne began after a long moment of silence, smirking slightly, 'you were asking about houses?'

Harry nodded.

'Yes, do any of you know where you'll end up?'

'Slytherin.' Daphne replied casually, shrugging lightly. 'Where the Greengrasses have been for centuries.'

'Ravenclaw.' Liram told them, before looking at Daphne. 'For similar reasons.'

'Well, I won't be abandoning Daphne.' Tracey said firmly.

'And I suspect that Anthony is stuck with me as soon as the hat discovers he's practically nocturnal because it means fewer people interrupting his reading.' Liram said, smirking at his friend.

'How about you?'

Harry met her cool, ice-blue stare calmly.

'I really have no idea. If I could choose my own house, then the Sorting Hat would seem to be obsolete.' He paused. 'It seems a remarkably stupid way of separating us into houses, anyway. It might be advantageous in some respects to split children in groups according to certain, personal characteristics, but surely it also fosters division, enmity, narrows our perspectives…' Harry had given the matter some considerable thought as he read Hogwarts: A History, and both Nicholas and Perenelle had been only too happy to reinforce his opposition, claiming that Beauxbatons' house system was infinitely superior.

'I think the idea is to create the best possible environment for as many students as possible.' Daphne suggested. 'To encourage competition with one another, to make us stronger.'

'It has some merits,' Harry acknowledged, 'but surely it simultaneously encourages us to compete over the values and virtues that the house we end up being a part of prizes, to the exclusion of all else. If Hogwarts' policy is that all of the traits supposedly exemplified by the houses are desirable, then shouldn't it be encouraging us to develop all of them?'

'But some people are naturally clever, or brave, or cunning…' Tracey objected, 'and some people never will be.'

'Perhaps. But that doesn't mean they should be put in a box and not allowed to be anything else, or even shoved, as I suspect they are in some cases, into a box that doesn't really fit them. Quite apart from that, the Sorting Hat examines some of our memories, our fears and desires at the moment it is placed on our head. It hardly analyses our entire lives, so makes a huge decision based on limited information at a very specific point in time, when we're likely nervous, stressed… hardly representative of our whole person.' He shrugged. 'And we're only thirteen. Who knows what we might be like in five years time, or even two years time.' He stopped, feeling he'd gone on long enough, and examined the expressions of those around him.

Tracey and Anthony were frowning at him, clearly thinking about what he'd said. Liram had nodded along with parts of his speech and looked interested. Daphne was examining him with barely veiled curiosity, her eyes boring into his. Harry couldn't help but feel he was under the gaze of a Legilimens, but felt no brush against his mind.

'You make good points.' She acknowledged eventually, as the sound of a whistle blowing penetrated the glass and a few seconds later the train jerked slowly into motion.

Another knock came against the glass panel of the door, before it slid open to reveal a boy who looked southern European, tall and slim, with hard brown eyes.

'Blaise.' Daphne greeted, giving the boy a small smile.

'Greengrass.' He nodded an acknowledgement, before his gaze swept round the rest of the compartment. 'Davis. Shafiq.' He paused. 'You two I don't know.'

'Anthony Goldstein.'

'Harry Flamel.'

Harry watched with amusement as the boy's composure broke for a moment at his name, surprise followed quickly by appraisal. Eventually he seemed to realise that he was blocking the corridor, and waved his wand hastily to shove his trunk up on the rack with the others. He sat down next to Tracey, leaning back into the corner.

The compartment's occupants sat in silence for a while. Harry would have thought it awkward if he wasn't aware that they were all just being cautious with one another. He knew that the Greengrasses and the Shafiqs were both very prominent pureblood families in wizarding Britain. He didn't think he recognised either Davis or Goldstein's names, but he knew that there were Zabinis in Italy who were supposed to be well connected and outrageously wealthy. He couldn't have chosen his travelling companions better, he thought, satisfied, if he wanted to make powerful allies.

'Why aren't you going to Beauxbatons?'

Harry turned to look inquiringly at Anthony, who flushed under the scrutiny, and looked as though he wished he hadn't spoken.

'Well…' he continued nervously, 'the Flamels are French.' He pointed out. 'It's said that Nicholas Flamel himself went to Beauxbatons.'

Harry smiled. 'Half right. My father indeed attended Beauxbatons in his youth,' he stopped, grinning at the look of shock on Anthony's face; it had only been the two girls there when he had claimed the alchemist himself as his father, 'but he does not consider himself French. He was born in Bordeaux, in Aquitaine, when the region was subject to the English crown. He was a member of the nobility, and grew up speaking Anglo-Norman. He has lived most of his life on British or neutral territory, and uses English as his main language. My mother, I admit, is French.' He continued, as though making some great confession. 'A proud daughter of the old blood of Occitania, but even she speaks English most of the time at home.'

Goldstein looked awed. 'You grew up with Nicholas and Perenelle Flamel?'

'I did.' Harry said, amused.

'Where?'

Harry frowned slightly at the boy's rudeness.

'Somewhere Unplottable.' He replied, and watched with satisfaction as the boy flinched slightly at the subtle rebuke.

'So, what magic can you guys do?' Tracey asked cheerfully into the suddenly uncomfortable silence.

'Umm, I've practised most of the first year charms.' Anthony began nervously, still glancing at Harry. 'And my brother's been teaching me bits from Transfiguration.'

'Why don't you show us?' Blaise drawled casually from his corner, dark eyes gleaming.

Anthony looked cornered. Liram was frowning slightly, probably wanting to intervene to protect his friend, but unsure of how to do so without making the situation worse. Eventually, Anthony drew his wand from an inside pocket of the robe he was wearing, before looking round for an object to change.

'Here.' Harry said, pulling a bright green apple from his own robe, wanting to extend the hand of peace, and knowing that fresh fruits, simple objects still brimming with life and energy, were amongst the easiest things to transfigure.

Anthony took it gratefully, turning it over in one hand for a while and frowning.

'You should probably hurry up,' Blaise began sardonically, 'unless of course your transfiguration is just waiting to let it rot into something else.'

Harry bit his lip to keep from smiling at the remark. The others seemed equally torn between amusement and condemnation.

Eventually, however, Anthony stabbed his wand forwards in a short, chopping gesture, muttering something under his breath. Harry almost rolled his eyes at the clumsiness, but watched as the apple seemed to melt in the boys grip, shrinking and lengthening and lightening.

'Not bad.' Blaise acknowledged, grabbing the banana and peeling it. 'Still tastes a bit of apple, though.' He remarked, taking a bite.

Harry could almost hear Goldstein swallow with relief.

'I've been practising my charms too.' Tracey interjected, apparently taking pity on the boy. 'And my mother sells herbs to the apothecaries and potions shops in Diagon Alley, so I know quite a lot about those.'

Blaise snorted.

'Growing herbs.' He repeated scornfully. 'That's not magic.'

Tracey rounded on him, glaring, but before she could open her mouth Daphne spoke up.

'How was it your family made its money in Italy, Blaise?' She asked sweetly, though her expression was frosty. 'Shellfish, originally, I thought.' She paused. 'Not even magical shellfish. Just the ones we cook for dinner. Tracey's herbs could save my life. Could save your life. Your shellfish? Why, all they're going to give me is a light supper.'

Harry allowed himself to smile a little, enjoying the exchange.

Blaise frowned slightly, but brushed off her words.

'My mother hasn't been in contact with the Italian Zabinis since she was a child.'

'Too busy murdering her husbands to drop in to family dinner.' Tracey said. 'Probably a relief for them: it must be terribly difficult for the relatives to remember the name of the latest model.'

Ouch, Harry thought, noticing Blaise's jaw clench, that was low.

'My mother is a witch with more power in her wand arm than is possessed by your entire family, Davis.' He bit out.

The girl smirked.

'I can believe that. Give a man a handjob and he'll do whatever you want.'

Blaise seemed to have recovered.

'Hardly, Davis. I wouldn't even get out of bed for a handjob from you.'

Her eyes widened innocently.

'But if we do it in your bed then we might get your nice sheets sticky.'

'Let's leave it there.' Liram said, interrupting. Harry wanted to frown at him; he'd been enjoying himself. 'My mother has been teaching me how to duel.'

'Your mother, Shafiq?' Blaise said scornfully, apparently as irritated as Harry by the cutting in.

'My mother.' The boy confirmed. 'Yours keeps her weapons in her underwear, mine in her wand holster.'

'Your mother is a War Witch, isn't she?' Daphne asked.

Liram nodded, and Harry looked at him interestedly. True War Witches had origins that went back to ancient Persia. They'd formed the personal guard of the Kings of Kings, had struck terror into the hearts of their enemies on the battlefield. Even now their descendants were trained in secret ways in the deep desert, spending years undergoing barely imaginable trials that moulded their members into the envy of auror corps the world over. Even Blaise seemed somewhat impressed by the knowledge.

'How about you, Harry?'

'Me, Daphne?'

She nodded.

'You must know lots of magic with parents like yours.'

'Alchemy.' Tracey whispered, eyes wide.

Harry shook his head.

'I'm afraid that's more my father's area of expertise. I doubt I could turn water into ice with alchemy, let alone lead into gold.'

'So what can you do?' Tracey demanded, disappointed.

'Well,' he began, 'like Liram, I have had some training in duelling, and my father has taught me the basics of potion making.' He paused. 'My mother has also been teaching me some simple Blood Magic.'

Even Daphne looked a little shocked.

'Blood Magic?' Tracey asked nervously, 'But isn't that, like, really Dark?'

'There's nothing wrong with Dark Magic.' Daphne reprimanded her firmly. 'Even some Blood Magic can be very useful. But it's supposed to be incredibly complicated…' she continued, looking at Harry with a frown.

'It is.' He agreed immediately. 'But my mother's a really good teacher, and knows exactly what she's doing.'

'Can you show us something?' Blaise didn't seem to be baiting him like he had been Anthony. His eyes were gleaming with interest as he stared at him intently.

Harry shook his head.

'No. I'm not very good at the moment,' he acknowledged, 'and it's really dangerous. Besides, mother would have my head if she found out I'd been showing off to people I'd just met.' He felt a guilty jolt every time he referred to Nicholas and Perenelle as his parents.

'Afraid of your mother, Flamel?' Daphne asked, apparently quite recovered from her surprise.

Harry laughed.

'I don't think anyone who has ever met Perenelle Flamel has failed to be at least a little bit scared of her.' He replied, before redirecting the conversation, 'But I can show you something else.' He offered, reaching into the pocket of his robe again.

'Is that a seed?' Tracey asked curiously as she looked into Harry's outstretched hand. Even Blaise had leaned in a little to get a better view.

'Yeah.' Harry agreed, before flicking his ash wand into his hand. He noticed Liram noting the auror-spec wand holster he knew must be hidden by his sleeve.

Harry touched the tip of his wand carefully to the seed in the palm of his left hand, and watched with satisfaction at the impressed expressions surrounding him as it grew, swelling and brightening until he was left with a single, perfect apple, identical to the one he had handed to Anthony.

'How did you do that?' Daphne asked curiously, examining the apple minutely for flaws. He handed it to her, smiling, before he replied.

'Try it. I promise you,' he grinned, 'it will taste even more like an apple than Anthony's banana.'

She bit into the fruit cautiously, before nodding.

'Was that transfiguration, or some weird Herbology spell, or what?' Tracey asked.

'It can't have been conjuration.' Anthony said. 'The first Principal Exception to Gamp's Law is food.'

'It is.' Harry agreed. 'It was transfiguration, though not conjuration. The seed was an apple pip; containing all the latent potential to turn itself into an apple tree. I simply sped up the process and got rid of the tree to leave me with a complete apple.'

'That is not simple.' Liram disagreed immediately. 'Something like that is really advanced.'

The others nodded.

'Thank you.' Harry looked at Blaise and tilted his head curiously, 'So, what can you do, Mr Zabini?'

He watched the boy's expression carefully, and knew that he had been right in suspecting Blaise had wanted his question turned round on him when he saw the gleam of satisfaction in his eyes.

The boy pulled out his wand wordlessly before pointing it at a nervous looking Anthony.

'Don't worry.' He said, before smiling grimly, and flicking his wand upwards.

'Levicorpus!'

Anthony yelped as he was jerked up into the air, dangling upside down as though suspended by his right ankle. His robes dangled down around his face, and his trousers crumpled up to above his knees, revealing pale, skinny legs.

'Do you want to let him down now, Blaise?' Liram asked, apparently calmly, though Harry could read the tension in his shoulders.

Before Blaise could do anything, Harry had lifted his hand, reaching out in a grasping motion. Even Blaise watched, slightly awed, as Harry wandlessly flipped Anthony the right way up and floated him gently back to the floor.

'T-thanks.' The boy mumbled gratefully, having been the only one too distracted to focus on what Harry was doing.

'How did you do that?' Tracey demanded, echoing her friend's question from earlier.

'Do what?'

'Wandless Magic.' Daphne deadpanned.

Harry shrugged.

'I'm not really sure. I accidentally started summoning things without a wand a couple of years ago, and kind of tried to train it from there…' He trailed off, trying not to be pinned down.

Daphne eyed him suspiciously, Blaise with what looked almost like a glare at Harry having stolen his glory. The others looked genuinely amazed.

'Can I stroke your cat?' Tracey asked.

Harry watched with amusement as Adonis stretched backwards in his lap, opening one golden eye to stare at Tracey, upside down, before looking back up at Harry and mewing softly.

'I think he'll let you hold him.' Harry said, scooping him up and moving over to place him carefully in Tracey's lap. 'Just don't muss his fur.' He warned.

'What's he called?' Daphne asked, watching her friend gently scratch the pleased animal behind the ears.

'Adonis.' He replied, smirking. 'You will never meet another creature as vain as he is.' The cat in question tilted his head back again to narrow its eyes at him.

'Are we sure these are safe?' Daphne asked doubtfully, looking down at one of the tiny boats wobbling uncertainly against its moorings.

'These boats were enchanted by Albus Dumbledore 'imself!' The enormous, bearded man who'd led the first years from the station platform had apparently heard her. 'Yer'd be more in danger of drowning standing in the middle of a field.'

'I think I'd rather take the field.' Daphne muttered as she took Harry's hand, and allowed him to support her as she stepped down into the boat.

'Mr Flamel!'

She looked up from settling herself on the narrow wooden bench at her friend's giggled exclamation, and watched as Harry lifted Tracey by the waist and, in an impressive display of strength, lowered her into the boat next to her. Daphne quickly pulled the blushing girl down beside her, trying to mask her nerves at the rocking of the vessel.

'You guys take Blaise, I'll find another boat with Anthony.'

Harry nodded gratefully at Liram having let them avoid any awkwardness over the boats, which seated only four, and sat down in the front as Blaise stepped smoothly on board.

'Forwards!' The man, who Harry thought had introduced himself as Hagrid, shouted, waving his lamp in the air. And suddenly they were moving, the tiny boats rock steady as they pushed through the dark water.

Harry just about managed to restrain himself from releasing a gasp like some of his yearmates as Hogwarts itself eventually came into view, but couldn't deny it was an impressive sight. The castle rose from a bluff that speared up out of the lake, its tall towers silhouetted by the dusk against the surrounding mountains. A thousand distant windows glittered with welcoming candlelight, and Harry could almost sense the ancient magic rolling across the still water.

A curtain of ivy concealed the entrance to an underground dock, against which the twenty or so boats carrying the new students automatically lined themselves.

'Everyone out and follow me!' The enormous man called, almost overturning his own boat as he stepped heavily onto the wharf. He led them up a long flight of steps cut into the rock beneath the castle, and Harry noticed that more than a few of his yearmates were panting heavily by the time they arrived outside a pair of doors that dwarfed even their guide. They swung open silently at his knock, and revealed a severe looking witch standing waiting for them. Her dark hair had long since started to grey, and she must have been nearly six feet tall even without the tall, pointed hat she was wearing,

'Thank you, Hagrid. First years follow me.' She instructed, her sharp voice softened only a little by its Scottish burr, before turning and sweeping off down the brightly lit stone corridor. Harry and his new friends stayed at the back of the group as they traipsed through the castle, arriving eventually in a high-ceilinged room whose walls were filled with portraits.

'Wait here, and behave yourselves.' The witch told them, and Harry noticed her gaze fix upon a few faces in the crowd. She left them, opening a door from the other side of which could be heard the cacophony of hundreds of voices, before she pulled it firmly shut behind her.

'Well, she seemed cheerful.' Liram said, he and Anthony having rejoined the four of them as soon as they'd got out of the boats.

'That must be Professor McGonagall.' Anthony said thoughtfully. 'I think she teaches Transfiguration.'

Harry could sense the nervousness of the other new students around him, however much they tried to hide it. Behind Blaise and Daphne's facades hovered a hint of uncertainty. Liram's smile seemed a little strained. Even Tracey had lost some of her ebullience, and Anthony was staring silently at the floor. A few feet away from their group, Harry could see a chubby, round-faced boy who looked as though he was about to be sick. A short girl with a great mane of brown hair was standing at his elbow, whispering frantically.

'Greengrass. Zabini. Shafiq.'

Harry focused his attention on the skinny blond boy who'd come over the join them, closely followed by a pair of walking boulders.

'Malfoy.' Daphne replied, inclining her head slightly.

The boy in question's eyes flitted over Tracey and Anthony with little interest before alighting on Harry, examining robes that were clearly too fine to belong to a scholarship, or even middle-class, student. Harry saw them narrow at the sight of the gold ring on his finger, winking in the light, and in the position it would be worn by the heir of a family significant enough to merit such adornment.

'I'm not sure I recognise you, Mr?' He asked politely, extending a hand confidently.

'Flamel. Harry Flamel.' Harry replied, lips quirking with amusement at the now expected response as he took the boy's hand and gave it a firm shake.

'Flamel.' The boy repeated curiously, turning the name over, clearly recognising it, but just as apparently unsure what to do with the information.

'Was there anything you wanted to talk about, Malfoy?' Daphne interjected sweetly.

'No, no. I merely wanted to greet you, and introduce myself.'

He beat a graceful retreat, boulders rumbling slowly after him as he rejoined the group he'd come over from.

'First years.'

They all looked up at the tall professor, who'd reappeared from nowhere.

'You are about to be sorted.' She announced. 'You will follow me into the Great Hall, at which point your names will be called alphabetically, and you will come to the front and put the Sorting Hat on your head, which will select a house for you. Your house will be your family for your time at Hogwarts. You will contribute to and share in its successes, as well as its defeats. I expect and demand that you all become upstanding members of the school community. Hogwarts is one of the most prestigious institutions in the magical world, and you should never forget how fortunate you are to have your place here.' She paused. 'Work hard, learn well, and the world is yours.'

I think it will take a bit more than that, Harry thought to himself.

Professor McGonagall led them back the way they'd come, before turning off and taking them into the castle's enormous entrance hall. They all looked up instinctively, mesmerised by the slow, grinding movement of the myriad staircases floating above them.

McGonagall didn't give them much of a chance to look round, striding towards a great set of double doors, which she set to swinging open with a flick of her wand. The Great Hall was even more impressive. Four long, gleaming tables set with gilded cutlery and goblets stretched out in front of them, stopping just before a stone dais where a fifth table stood, facing the hall. What must have been many thousands of candles hovered a few feet above the tables, filling the vast room with a soft glow. An enchanted vision of the clear night sky twinkled high above them as they made their way down the central aisle, surrounded by the murmurs of the older students.

McGonagall managed to bring silence to the hall by doing nothing more than mounting the steps of the dais.

'Let the sorting begin.' She declared without preamble, turning to an old, leather wizard's hat sitting on a chair.

'Ah, new firsties…'

If Harry hadn't been expecting it, the sight of the front of the hat suddenly contorting itself into the approximation of a face might have occasioned some surprise. As it was, only a few of the students standing in front of the hat jumped when it began to speak in a deep gravelly voice.

A few long seconds of silence followed, before the hat once more opened its fold of a mouth and began to sing.

They call me the Sorting Hat,

And I suppose that's what I do.

Stick one child here, another there,

And Gryffindor, they'll take two.

It's a sad existence, really,

But it's brought me lasting fame;

There's not a witch nor wizard in Britain

Who doesn't know my name.

So trust me, young ones, really,

I know what I'm about:

A thousand years of practice

Leaves little room for doubt.

Welcome to Hogwarts!

With its halls as old as time,

And some teachers not far off;

Though only I can rhyme.

I must, however, warn you,

That within these ancient walls,

I cannot guarantee your safety;

For a lurking danger calls.

Amidst the classrooms, halls and grounds,

Beneath the tables and flitting in the eaves,

Hide dragons, pixies, a man named Snape,

Demons, and a poltergeist called Peeves.

Trust your friends and instincts, children,

Though things may not be as they seem.

Live each day as your last and dance til dawn,

So that, as a wrinkly, you'll have a pleasant dream.

So now, come sit yourselves beneath me,

And let me take a look inside your head,

I'll say hello and work out where to put you,

Don't worry; I'll tell you where to find your bed.

The new first years joined in the rest of the school's applause after a few moments of surprise.

'Now we begin.' Professor McGonagall declared, magicking a parchment list into the air beside her.

'Abbot, Hannah.'

A sweet-faced girl with long, blonde curls stumbled forwards and took her place on the plain chair that sat in front of the head table, facing the main body of the hall. Her small, pink shoe-clad feet dangled a couple of inches above the ground.

'Hufflepuff!'

The table furthest to the left broke into a round of applause, as Hannah stood up hastily and hurried over to join her new housemates.

The Sorting Hat worked quickly, in most instances only taking five or six seconds to make its decision and roar it to the hall.

Harry readied himself as Finnigan, Seamus was pulled forwards.

'Gryffindor!' The hat called almost as soon as it touched the boy's head.

'Flamel, Harry.'

At Harry's name the hall broke out into a storm of mutterings, and although he didn't look back he could imagine everyone craning their heads to get a better look at him.

'Did she say…'

'Flamel…'

'As in Nicholas…'

He heard snatches of conversation as he stepped up smoothly, mounting the steps. He caught the ancient-looking Professor Dumbledore leaning forwards in his golden throne, wearing an intent expression. He turned, and lifted the hat onto his head. He had a second to contemplate the hundreds of faces staring at him before he was distracted by a voice in the back of his skull.

'Hello, young man.'

'Hi.' He thought back.

'Hmm, your Occlumency is remarkably well developed for one of your age.' The hat said after a moment. 'There are parts of you that even I would struggle to access.'

'They're not important.'

'I very much doubt that, but I will not press you.'

The hat remained silent for a while.

'So, you think the house system flawed?' It asked, sounding curious.

'Fundamentally.'

'But without it I would be unemployed…' The hat pointed out drily.

'Without it you wouldn't have to trawl through the heads of naive little schoolchildren. You could focus on your poetry; clearly your true vocation.'

'I wouldn't have an audience for my poetry though…' The hat rejoindered, before continuing before he could reply. 'Naive little schoolchildren, eh. I take it you do not consider yourself one of their number?'

'Most children are convinced they're special.' Harry told him. 'I actually am.'

The hat chuckled.

'I have seen many rise to greatness in my time.' The hat replied. 'But most paddle for a bit and then sink without a trace. Although, I suppose you already have a claim to greatness, Mr Potter.'

Harry clenched his jaw and tried to strengthen his shields as the hat chuckled again.

'It's a little late for that now, don't you think? Futile, anyway, for such a burning secret could hardly escape the notice of one such as myself.'

'You will keep my secret?'

'Naturally. Who would I tell? Dumbledore already knows, and it will amuse me to see how long you can maintain such a paltry disguise. A boy called Harry the same age as the Boy Who Lived would be, suddenly appearing at Hogwarts as the son of famous parents who are centuries old but have never had a child?'

'The disguise is only supposed to be temporary.' Harry told the hat. 'As you well know. Plenty of people will suspect, but as long as none of them know then they will hardly take the risk of pissing off the Flamels to get to me.'

'And who, I wonder, would want to get to you?'

Harry didn't particularly want to discuss the matter, but his thoughts gave him away.

'Death eaters? Fame seekers? Bellatrix Lestrange? Sirius Black?' The hat repeated to him. 'Hmm, perhaps. Curious children, those two. I was most interested to hear where they ended up.'

'Would you mind sorting me?' Harry asked.

'Of course.' The hat answered, voice laced with amusement. 'You seem to have decided where you want to go, and I see no reason to object, although might I suggest…'

'No.' Harry said firmly. 'I have made my decision, flawed though all of the options are, and if you have no objections then I would appreciate your assistance.'

'I don't think I've ever had a child "appreciate my assistance" before.' The hat said, apparently still amused. 'But, if you must have your way… Ravenclaw!'

The table immediately to the right of the centre erupted with cheers, though Harry couldn't tell whether it was because they'd got him, or because they were hungry and his lengthy sorting was finally over.

He went over to join them, noticing the facings of his robes dye themselves blue and bronze, the Ravenclaw crest of an eagle in flight clutching some kind of crown in its talons embroidering itself onto his tie. He quietly introduced himself to Terry Boot, Michael Corner, and a blushing Mandy Brocklehurst as the sorting continued.

Ravenclaw ended up taking seventeen new students; eight male and nine female. Harry didn't bother to repress his grin when Liram shoved his way onto the bench next to him, sitting between him and Anthony. To his other side he was flanked by a pretty girl called Padma Patil, and a boy called Oliver Rivers sat opposite.

Daphne, Tracey and Blaise had quickly been sorted into Slytherin, and he flashed a smile at Daphne when she glanced at him, which she responded to with a small twitch of her lips.

'Welcome, students, new and old!' The headmaster exclaimed, his voice effortlessly rising above and silencing the conversations that had broken out with the end of the sorting.

Harry examined the man who had left him with his adopted parents. Albus Dumbledore cut an impressive figure; tall and straight-backed, with a gleaming white beard stretching to his waist and draped in magnificently embroidered robes.

'I will be brief, for I know I am hungry, and suspect that you all are too. It does my old heart glad to see so many eager young faces. I hope that you all had wonderful summers, and return to us ready and eager to learn. I have some notices to give out, but I'm sure those will wait until after the meal.' He smiled gently at the hall, blue eyes sparkling merrily behind half-moon glasses. He spread his arms wide as he sat down, and suddenly the tables were heaving under the weight of dishes filled with mouthwatering looking food.

Harry looked at the dishes briefly, before deciding to temporarily abandon his normal healthy-eating practices. He quickly helped himself to rare beef and roast potatoes, vegetables glazed with honey and horseradish sauce.

'So, Flamel…'

Harry rolled his eyes before swallowing his mouthful and plastering a smile onto his face as he turned to the handsome third year boy who'd spoken to him from further down the table.

'And now that most of us have finished, a few notices.' Dumbledore announced, rising from his chair and licking his spoon.

Harry, who had been debating a second slice of treacle tart, refocused his attention.

'Professor Flitwick has asked me to remind you all that his duelling club will be running as usual this year here in the Great Hall; a novice class for first to third year on Tuesdays after school has finished, and an Advanced Class for fourth to sixth at the same time on Thursdays. Madame Hooch has notified me that schedules for Quidditch tryouts will be posted to the notice boards in your common rooms by the end of the week. Schedules for other extra-curricular clubs and activities will be found in the same place.

Professor McGonagall has requested that I remind you all that magic is not permitted in the corridors between classes, and Mr Filch that a comprehensive list of the school's banned objects can be found outside the door to his office.'

Dumbledore had rattled through the notices quickly and cheerfully, but suddenly his expression became solemn as he paused.

'Finally, and most seriously, there is another matter. I am sure that it has escaped few of your attentions that the criminals Sirius Black and Bellatrix Lestrange escaped from the prison of Azkaban during the summer. As such, until the two are recaptured, the Ministry has seen fit', here Harry noticed Dumbledore's tone become stiff, almost disapproving, 'to take additional security precautions with all of the country's schools. Hogwarts will thus be playing host to a squad of aurors from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and to a number of dementors, which will be patrolling the perimeter of the grounds.'

Harry stiffened at the mention of the dementors, noting that Dumbledore's tone had hardened further, sounding almost angry.

'I should warn you all, and warn you well; it is not in the nature of a dementor to feel restraint, or to distinguish between friend and foe. I must thus instruct you all to keep well away from the edge of the school's wards.'

He paused, allowing his words to sink in.

'Sleep well.' He said, before reseating himself.

Author's note: Hope you enjoyed the sorting. I wrote the Hat's song/poem, so apologies if it's a bit rough. I'm just not a massive fan of when fics literally copy the originals word for word; they're brilliant, but they're kinda already in use, and are being forced to fit stories that otherwise differ from JKR's. I know Ravenclaw is a bit basic bitch for OC Harrys, but I think it's the house that works best with what I have planned. Also, house stereotypes are going to be considerably less pronounced in this fic than canon/99% of fics anyway.