A/N:  I apologize that this chapter took so long.   I still think there is something off about it, but my beta's have assured me it is perfect.  The next few chapters are going to start focusing on the HP characters since I have now given the GW characters a good introduction. 

I also have created a Forum for fans of Gundam Wing and Harry Potter.   I am really really really trying to get it launched and spread the word, so I will shamelessly plug it here and urge you to go register! 

The url is:  afallenangel.net / forum /

Please, please go check it out and register!  It will make me so happy!!! 

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Chapter 8

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"Oh, dear, I think that may have been a bit too much," Hermione muttered softly.

"Yeah, well if you hadn—" Ron stopped himself mid-sentence.  It had taken awhile, but he *had* learned that insulting Hermione was *NOT* a good thing.  In fact, he had learned it was a spectacularly bad idea to insult her when she was already *in* "rant-mode".  "Let's just go find Harry."

Ron took two long purposeful strides to the compartment door and opened it.  He turned to look back, "C'mon 'Mione," and strode out the door.

Ron however, did not see the grotesquely large toad planted right outside the door.  His arms flailed wildly in a feeble attempt to prevent the inevitable.  But it was no use.  The ground was cheerfully rushing up to meet him.  He was tripping over Neville Longbottom's infamous toad.

However, in his rush to greet the floor, his body made contact with something much softer, Neville.  Not enough to stop his impending meeting with the oh-so-friendly floor, but enough to delay it by a few nanoseconds.

Those nanoseconds were to be some of the most entertaining Hermione had ever witnessed.

Neville stumbled backward.  His balance terminally damaged from years of exploding potions and fizzled spells, he was unable to recover from the wrecking ball that was Ron.  Seamus and Dean, blissfully unaware of what they were walking up to, approached, only to be sandbagged by Neville's falling body.  As they were caught unaware, they too, were forced to greet the now Gryffindor-littered floor.  All four boys were caught in a large tangle of gangly limbs and pained grunts.

Hermione watched the scene in no small amount of amusement.  She tried, quite unsuccessfully, to hide her gleeful snickering, but Ron heard her and glared from his place at the very bottom of the heap.

"Neville get your elbow out of my ear."

"Well, I would if Seamus would get his foot off my arm!"

"Oh, and how am I supposed to do that with Dean's knee on my back?"

"Would you all just shut-up and get off me!  And whoever has their hand on my ARSE better move it quick!"  Ron shouted, his face a bright tomato red.

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"You want me to stay?"

"Of course not."

"But you just said…"

"I know what I said."

"So you want me to leave?"

"No…" Draco trailed off, hating his display of weakness, but unable to resist wanting Harry to stay.  "You don't have to…"

"But you jus…"

"Look!  I know what I said!  I am just saying you don't HAVE to leave.  Do you always have to be so bloody complicated, Potter?"

Harry moved cautiously back to his seat across from Draco, a little curiosity peeking out.

"*I'm* complicated?"

"Oh just stuff it Potter!  Can't you just be quiet?"

"Fine," he agreed, laughing internally at Draco's obvious distress.

Harry looked out the window, resting his head against the cool glass.  Looking past his reflection on the shiny surface, he watched the scenery pass by with a detached interest.  His earlier thoughts quickly returned to the forefront of his mind.  Especially when the object of those thoughts was seating not little more than arms reach away.  He was a little surprised how relaxed he felt with Draco in the same room.  It was so much different from sitting with Ron and Hermione.  Draco was quiet and undisruptive, so unlike Ron and Hermione who were almost always arguing, or flirting; it was sometimes hard to tell the difference.  But if they weren't arguing, Hermione was nagging them to study, or Ron was talking his ear off about Quidditch.  Not that he really minded any of it.  He loved both of them and cherished their unique friendship.  He was finding however, that he also really enjoyed this comfortable silence with Draco.

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"Quatre!  Did you see this place?  Look at all these pots!  What could you possibly need a pot *that* big for?"  Duo stood in front of the Cauldron Shop, oblivious to the fact everyone had stopped listening to him 5 shops back.  All save one, apparently.

"They are *cauldrons*, not pots, Mr. Maxwell.  And it is a cauldron shop, so of course they have a large supply of them.  What would you have them sell instead?  Flowers?"

"Oh really, and just what would you need a cauldron *that* size for?"  He pestered the grouch on purpose as he jogged to catch up.

"Most find it rather difficult to fit a Dragon Heart into a small cauldron for the Dragon Breath potion, to start with.  And there's also---"

"Uh yeah.  And what's Dragon Breath do?  Give a Dragon better breath?"

"Do you ever cease talking?  It cures third degree burns and allows the person to endure direct fire for very short intervals without injury.  Now will you *stop* pestering me?"

"No, and no.  What potions cure cranky potion teachers?"

"That is potion *Master*, Mr. Maxwell," Snape hissed angrily.

"Yeah, right, whatever," Duo commented distractedly.  His gaze had spotted another odd shop and he couldn't seem to persuade his feet not to wander in that direction.

A few minutes later, and several shops down …

"Hey!  Yo!  Tall, dark, and extremely ugly!  This shop sells beaks!!!!  Big old honkers!  You could sell yours for a small fortune!!!"  Duo called out loudly across the moderately crowded street.  "You'd even have some nose left to keep!"

Snape didn't get a chance to reply as Duo had disappeared again.  Undoubtably to yet another shop window.

Just a brief moment later Duo's voice could be heard howling over the other voices in the street, "Hey, Kat, no!!!  Step away from the pink robes."  Just in front of him Snape spotted Quatre standing in front of a clearance rack at the 'Robes for All Occasions' Shop.  The clearance rack had a very large assortment of bright pink robes.

 "Blue's much more you."  There was a pause.  "HEY! ... HEY!!!  Snape! C'mere!  Kat found some robes that are just *perfect* for you!  *Much* better than those rags you got on!"

Snape's glare turned cold; enough was enough.  No *student* was going to treat him with such blatant disrespect!  "Mr. Maxwell.  Your words and actions reveal that you are nothing more than a penniless, uncultured street rat.  I suggest you cease this abominable behavior immediately, lest I turn you into a *real* rat for use in an anti-stress potion."

Duo visibly flinched, as is if slapped across the face.  Heero was moving even as Snape was ending his veiled threat, putting himself in front of Duo.  In was an instinctively protective move, requiring no thought, only action.

Wufei was a half step behind Heero, coming up even with Heero's shoulders.  The two of them made a very formidable wall in front of Duo.

Trowa glared icy daggers at Snape, coming up to stand just behind Heero and Wufei.  He placed a light, restraining hand on each of their shoulders.  Not to stop them, only to make to pause them for a moment as he caught Quatre move to say something out of the corner of his eye.

"How dishonorable to threaten students in you care!"  Wufei spoke out, clearly outraged.

"Professor Snape, while intimidating your students has been effective in the past, you will find we do not scare *quite* so easily.  And if all *six* of us are going to survive the year I would recommend a serious attitude adjustment on *your* part,"  Quatre finished, his voice like steel.  Cold and inflexible.

He then turned to address his friend, though his eyes remained on Snape.  "Duo, you shouldn't torment the professors, even if they do provoke you unnecessarily.    After all, I am *sure* that they'll become more polite when they realize that we aren't easily intimidated, and are really more likely to laugh in their faces than feel threatened.  It's not *their* fault that we've all been trained to neutralize first and ask questions later.  After the first few wands--or hands--get broken, I'm sure that we'll all get along just *fine*."

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 Draco, too, was lost in his thoughts. 

He had been surprised when Harry had entered.  He had been waiting for his two goons to find him, though he didn't really want to talk to either.  He was beginning to believe his IQ dropped every time he held a conversation with them.  So, as a preemptive strike to their deteriorating presence, he had hidden in the last room of the train car.  He figured it would buy him at least a little time before they found him.

Of all the people Draco had thought might stumble in, Harry hadn't even made the list.  Of course, Harry hadn't even seen him, looking far too troubled and upset to even check if the train compartment was occupied before sitting down.  Draco couldn't stop his curiosity about what had Harry so bothered.  It was rare for Draco to have a chance to study Harry so closely, and rarer still to study such an uncommon side of Harry.  It certainly wasn't like Harry to be without his two shadows and certainly to be without them and upset both.  It was like some twisted form of jackpot for Draco.

And yet, with everything that had been on Draco's mind recently, Harry's presence should have made him uncomfortable.  It didn't, however.  In fact, he was surprisingly comforted by Harry's contemplative and quiet.  The other wizard seemed so different without his shadows around him.  And, Draco was forced to admit, he, too, was different when he was alone.  He was finding himself enjoying the companionable silence between them.  It was far better than babysitting his two goons, Tweedle-Dumb and Tweedle-Dumber.

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"Well, gentlemen, traditionally new students don't get this type of warning, but in your case I believe we can bend tradition a little.

"Here at Hogwarts we have four houses:  Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin.  Each house has it's own set of ideals and characteristics that set it apart from the other Houses.  Because of this, it is important that we place you in the House that best suits your personality.

"Long ago, the founders of this school developed a way for students to be sorted long after the four of them passed away.  This hat belongs to one of those founders.  Inside this hat is everything it needs to know in order to place you into your correct House.  The hat evaluates your character, not your memories, and sorts you accordingly.

"Let me stress to you, it does *not* look into your memories.  It merely evaluates your strengths and weaknesses, your inclinations in a given situation, and then chooses the House that is best suited for you.

"Each of you needs to take a turn wearing the hat."

All of the pilots were quiet, each lost in their own thoughts concerning the hat.  None of them liked the idea of *anything* inside their heads, no matter how innocent.

Quatre eyed the hat skeptically, but saw that no one else would be going first.  He reluctantly sat forward and removed the hat from Dumbledore's desk, placing it on his head.

"Oh, hello there!  Ah yes, you are the clear-headed one aren't you?" a voice whispered into his head.

Whatever Quatre might have expected, the hat talking in his head was not it.  Yet even in his shock Quatre could felt no malice in the gentle questing inside his head.  If anything it was quite friendly.

"Oh, yes, yes, you *are* clever!  But so *loyal*…. And my, you've the patience of a saint…" The Sorting Hat whispered gleefully.

  "Hufflepuff!" it announced loudly.

Feeling the presence slip from his head, Quatre removed the hat and placed it back on the desk.

"The hat speaks," Quatre announced to his fellow pilots, knowing they would not take the shock as well as he had.  They did not possess his ability to sense the hat's intentions.

"It SPEAKS!?"  Duo balked.  "No way.  No hats inside my head!"

Quatre ignored Duo's protests for the moment and turned to look at Trowa.  Speaking to Trowa, but loud enough for the others to hear, he said "I felt it, Trowa, I promise that it is safe."

Trowa nodded once.  Quatre would not lie to him.  And besides that, he trusted Quatre's senses, they had saved all of them more than once during the wars.  He reached out and picked up the hat.  Following Quatre's example, he placed it on his head.

"Hmm--- yes.  …  Oh no, dear boy, don't be frightened.  I mean you no harm."  The voice was soft in his head, and surprisingly unobtrusive.

"Ah see there, I know just where you go!"  The voiced called out merrily inside his head. 

"It's Hufflepuff!" it cried out enthusiastically.

Trowa promptly removed the hat and placed it back on the Headmaster's desk.  Quatre reached over and took one of his hands.  It was a comfort Trowa had learned to cherish.

Trowa sat back, a moment passed and no one made a move.  He turned and raised one graceful eyebrow as he looked directly at Heero.

Heero glared back.

Trowa looked back at Heero's glare blandly.

Heero's glare darkened.

Trowa's head seemed to cock just ever so slightly to the right as he raised his brow once more, not breaking eye contact with the former Wing pilot.

Heero furrowed his eyebrows together, a clear sign of frustration.

Trowa merely shrugged.

Heero glared pointedly.  "Hn."

"Oi!  You two and your silent conversations!!!" Duo whined, his tone teasing.

Quatre suppressed an amused snicker, which managed to escape as a snort; Wufei merely crossed his arms and looked off to the side.  There was a suspicious glimmer in his eye that passed far too quickly.

Heero ignored his friends and took the Sorting Hat from the desk.  Clearly disgruntled, he begrudgingly placed the hat on his head.

No sooner had he done so then the Sorting Hat bellowed, "Better make it Gryffindor!"

Heero immediately returned the Sorting Hat to Dumbledore's desk, who seemed to be smiling at them far too knowingly for his tastes.

Wufei had the greatest respect for Heero.  Of course, he highly respected all of his fellow pilots and friends; though he would probably die before ever admitting it.  But his respect for Heero was different.  Not because he had saved the world, how absurd was that?  They had all played their part in that, for better or worse.  Wufei respected Heero for his ability to so easily follow his emotions.  Not that the common person saw them, but Wufei did.  He wished that he could allow himself to follow his own emotions as easily as Heero seemed to follow his.

If Heero could wear the hat, so would he.  He reached out and picked the hat up, setting it on his head.

"Interesting, interesting… what a spectacular mind, Yes, no doubt---- RAVENCLAW!"

Wufei promptly returned the hat to the desk, his face unreadable as always.

"Well glad that's over, what's next Dumpiedore?"

"You haven't been sorted yet Duo." Quatre said tiredly, already sensing Duo's unreasonable protest.

"Naw, no need, they can just bunk me with Heero, ya know?"

"It doesn't work that way Duo.  You have you *wear* the hat and be *sorted*."

"Are you sure about that?  I mean, couldn't I just tell the hat about myself and it could decide that way?"

Quatre didn't get a chance to respond because Heero leaned over and whispered something into Duo's ear.

"You know that J never gave me a choice when it came to being loyal to him.  You have always given me that choice.  And I will *always* choose you.  No matter what is in your past.  Nothing can or will ever change that.  Now put on the hat."  Heero's breath flickered gently over Duo's ear as he spoke, his lips brushed softly over the edges of his ear.  It was exactly the comforting Duo needed.

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Hermione was still laughing a few moments later as she and Ron walked through the train cars looking for Harry. 

"It *wasn't* that bloody funny 'Mione!"

"Oh yes it was!  It took you ten minutes to get out from under them!"

Ron glowered, but wisely held his tongue.

They hadn't found Harry yet.  Neither Neville, Dean, nor Seamus had seen Harry or which way he headed.  Hermione, in typical Hermione fashion, reasoned that it was much more logical for Harry to take a walk to the front of the train than the back so they were currently in that direction. 

"Now, Ron—"

"Oh, no."  Ron knew that look.  That look was dangerous.  Deadly given the situation.  That look was Hermione's I-am-going-to-lecture-and-you're-going-to-listen look.  It almost always meant that he had done something wrong.  Really *wrong*.

"I think you should have listened to Harry when—"

"But I did listen…"

"No you stopped listening the moment Harry said 'Malfoy'."

"Malfoy is a no good, slimy, gi---"

"Ron!  You're doing it again!  Your not even listening to me!"

"I—"

"No, Ron.  You listen.  Harry does not control his dreams and you *know* that.  He was trying to get our help with his *problem* and you were too busy rambling about what a git Malfoy is."

"Well he…"

"That may be, but did you listen at all?  Harry said that Malfoy *helped* him…"

"Why the hell would he do that?"

"That's what we don't know.  But don't you think it's better to find out than to ramble on about the sliminess of Malfoy?"

"Well…"

"C'mon, we have to head back, we're almost to Hogwarts."