"You don't want to make friends with the wrong sort."

I held out my hand.

"I can help you there."

Potter looked at my hand, then at my face.

"I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks."

I narrowed my eyes. My father was right about Potter. He really was a nitwit.

Just then, I heard McGonagall order everyone into a line. I got into line in front of Potter, but could still see his face in my head. I wasn't the wrong sort. I just wanted to be friends with him, rather than Weasley. Weasley couldn't be in our mix. He'd obviously become a Gryffindor, and Houses never communicated with each other. If Potter became a Slytherin, I could be real friends with him. We would be able to go to Hogsmeade together. However, if he hung out with that redhead, he'd surely become a Gryffindor, and then I'd lose any chance to hang out with him.

The doors opened to the Great Hall. My father had shown me pictures, but never of the ceiling. It was huge, full of stars, glistening against the pitch-black sky. Our house didn't have any starry ceilings. I'd ask my mother if we could enchant one when I got back home. The floating candles, I was used to, but the ones in my house dripped wax onto everyone's heads and were generally a nuisance. These, when they dripped, the wax merely floated under the candle, attaching itself so it would never burn out. The tables were filled with people, and I spotted some of my older playmates sitting at the Slytherin table, whispering among themselves. I straightened my back. I didn't want them thinking lesser of me just because I was young. That had happened one too many times already.

The Sorting Hat started its song, but I blocked out the tune, instead opting to glare at the Gryffindor table. The older Weasleys were sniggering and hexing some poor spoon. They grinned at me and sent it flying towards my face. I ducked, watching the spoon whizz over my head. I heard a small thunk and a whispered swearword. That's when the outline of a person- an adult- hovered over my head. I looked up into the face of McGonagall.

"Draco Malfoy. Stand up straight."

I narrowed my eyes slightly. Didn't she see what had just happened? Those Weasley twins just tried to stab me with a spoon!

"Sorry, Professor, I was merely attempting to avoid an attack."

"What attack? You're eleven! Not even sorted into a house yet and you're already facing rivalry?"

"Yes, Professor."

"Ridiculous. You Malfoys exaggerate everything."

She walked foward, towards the Sorting Hat. Why was she pretending that someone hadn't just tried to injure me? IT didn't make any sense. I heard her start calling out names of other eleven-year-olds, and I heard them stepping up. I heard each and every name up until my own. Potter had to push me forward before I realized what was going on. I stepped up to the stage, and put the hat on.

This was strange. My father told me that the hat would barely touch my head before announcing me a Slytherin. However, there I was, hat on my head, nothing happening. That's when the hat began to speak.

"You are much braver than you seem, Draco."

Nobody called me Draco. Not anymore.

"Well, what would you prefer I called you?"

I thought for a minute, then whispered, "Draco is fine."

"Alright, Draco. Did you hear what I said?"

"Yes. You said I was much braver than I seemed."

"You are much braver than you seem. You have survived your father for all these years, with only a house-elf to keep you company. Your father doesn't know what he's talking about when he says you're Slytherin material."

"Please don't put me in Hufflepuff."

"You are incredibly biased, though. It would do you some good to see another side of things."

"Mister Sorting Hat, I need to be in Slytherin. My life would be destroyed if I weren't."

"Draco. You only think that because you'd lose your family. However, looking through your head, I don't believe they are family at all. At least, they don't look like family to you."

"My mother gave birth to me. My father...well, I don't know what my father did, but he helped. Thus, they are my family."

"Are you really so sheltered that you think family is merely blood ties?"

"What else could it be? Servants are the ones who take care of me. Friends keep me company. Family dictates the rules. Family controls the house. Family..."

I paused.

"It is not my father's job to love me."

"Can you really call him your father, then?"

"I can't exactly call him 'Dad'."

"Yes. It would definetely do you some good to be in-"

I screamed "NO!" at the same time the hat screamed "GRYFFINDOR!"

The hats scream was louder than mine.

Everyone heard me. Everyone heard the hat.

The Great Hall fell silent.

My father was going to hear about this. And when he heard about this, he would destroy me.