Part 2:
Three days had passed since the re-sorting, and they were two of the oddest days Harry had ever experienced. Ever since Draco had become a member of Gryffindor House, everyone seemed to shy away from him, almost like they were worried that he was going to explode. Every time the owls arrived, they carried bucket-loads of letters filled with questions about Draco Malfoy's amazing transformation. Even Harry had received a few letters from the Weasleys, after Ron and the others had been unable to answer all of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's questions. Harry saw no other alternative than to inform them that he knew as little as everyone else. The amount of letters Harry and Ron received, however, was nothing compared to the amount of letters the owls handed to Draco every morning. Lucius Malfoy was not happy. Draco always got a sad look about him whenever he read his mail, and when someone, usually Hermione or Ginny, asked him what it was, all he answered was that the letters were from his father, and excused himself from the table. He said he wanted to be alone for a while, and so they let him. It wasn't like they were jumping through hoops to spend time with him as it was, anyway.
"Harry," Hermione said in a strict tone-of-voice one day when Draco had left the breakfast after receiving mail from his father, "You have to go talk to him."
Harry almost choked on his breakfast when she said it, and turned to her with a surprised look on his face.
"Me? Why me?"
"Because," she continued, sighing in a disappointed manner, "no one else wants to come near him, these days, and I don't think he'd be comfortable if it were Ginny or I who approached him."
Harry sighed. He knew she wouldn't let this go; when Hermione had her heart set on something, she was relentless in her manner of achieving it.
"But...why me? Why not Ron?"
"Ron!" Ginny exclaimed, "Ron's about as sensitive as a rock, Harry! You can't subject Draco to that! The poor boy's got it bad enough as it is!"
"Yeah, Harry," Ron said, grinning smartly at him, "I really think you should be the one to talk to him."
Harry glared at Ron, but he only smirked at him in return. He looked around at the three faces staring at him, and it suddenly became frightfully obvious that he had already lost this battle.
"Fine, fine," he said, releasing a disappointed sigh, "I'll do it."
"Oh, Harry!" Hermione said and hugged him, "I knew you would!"
"This is stupid," Harry muttered to himself as he walked up the stairs towards the portrait of the Fat Lady, "I don't even know where he is!"
The Fat Lady was trying scales when he finally arrived before her, and he listened to her for a few seconds, knowing that it was impossible to get through to her when she was singing, until his ears could no longer bear it.
"Is Draco in there?" he shouted, loud enough for the Fat Lady to hear it through all her screaming. She suddenly stopped singing and looked at him.
"What?" she said, smiling sweetly.
"I said, is Draco in there?"
He sighed and looked impatiently at her, tapping his foot against the stone floor beneath him as he waited for her reply.
"I can't tell you that without a password, my dear boy."
The Fat Lady half turned away from him, obviously having found his impatient behaviour to be very offensive, and Harry sighed from frustration.
"Fine: Neutiquam erro."
"He was here a little while ago, he should be inside," the Fat Lady said as she swung open, revealing the entrance behind her. As Harry crawled through the hole into the common-room, he could hear her starting her scales again, even more out of tune than before.
He walked inside and looked around. There was a fire in the fireplace, so the place was nice and warm. It was empty at first glance, but when he looked again, he could just see a head of platinum-blonde hair sticking up from the sofa facing the fire-place. His shoulders sagged in disappointment; he had found him. It was what he had set out to do, but he'd secretly been hoping that he wouldn't, just to avoid having to talk to him. He'd been acting so strange, lately... So incredibly...nice... It was weird, and Harry wasn't at all sure he liked it.
"Hi, Draco," he said, his nervous voice trembling slightly. He pulled himself together and walked forth towards the sofa Draco was sitting in, just as Draco sat up straight and turned to see who it was. He smiled at him when he saw it was Harry, and then turned back to the fireplace.
"Hi, Harry."
Harry hesitated when he was almost at the sofa, but he kept on walking, and was soon sitting on the sofa next to Draco, watching the fireplace. The five-page letter Draco had received at the breakfast-table that morning was lying on the table in front of the sofa, pages lying here and there, looking like someone had tossed it there in frustration.
"So..." Harry started, hesitantly, "I see you got a letter..."
"Yeah," Draco immediately answered, "It's from my father."
"Oh," Harry said, and was silent again. He sat there staring into the flames for a while, wondering if it would soon be the right time to speak again. He was just about to ask about it when Draco spoke again, effortlessly breaking the silence.
"Hermione sent you?" he asked, but he didn't look at Harry. Harry glanced shortly at him, but he didn't want to look at him any more, since Draco was staring right ahead.
"No...no! I came on my own accord. I just wanted to see..." Harry paused, searching for the right words to finish his sentence, "if you were alright."
"I am," Draco said and smiled, while still staring right ahead, into the fire. Harry joined him in his staring for a while, unsure of what to say.
"So...the letter's from your father, then? What...What's he saying?" Harry glanced towards the letter, feeling an intolerable urge to just make a grab for it and then run off to read it.
"It's all right, Harry," Draco quickly answered and looked toward Harry, "You don't have to. I know Hermione sent you." He looked away again, back into the fire.
"Alright," Harry answered, bringing his gaze to rest on Draco, "so Hermione sent me, but I'm asking because I want to know. We all want to know."
Draco turned towards him and smiled, and Harry thought he could see something resembling gratitude in his eyes.
"Thanks, Harry," he said after a few seconds, and then looked back at the fire, "But I don't really want everyone to know. Not what he's saying."
"Why," Harry immediately asked, "What is he saying?"
Draco sighed, and Harry could tell he wasn't looking forward to telling him, at the same time as he probably wanted to.
"Well..." Draco started, obviously hesitating, "he's...well, he's threatening to...disown me. He says I'm no son of his, if I'm in Gryffindor. I can't really blame him; people in my family have been Slytherins as far back as we have records of, and father always counted on me getting sorted into Slytherin House. I think it makes it worse that I got sorted into Slytherin to begin with, but then asked to be... I think I've really disappointed him."
Harry could tell from the look on Draco's face that he really felt bad about this, and he couldn't help but feel bad for him, in return. He'd always had the impression that Draco really wanted his father to be proud of him, and to have his father threaten to throw him out of the family... Well, it certainly couldn't be easy. He looked down at the letter for a little while, picturing what Lucius Malfoy might have written in it, what hurtful words he might have used to describe his disappointment in his son, what he had asked from Draco in return for letting him stay in the family. Harry couldn't even begin to understand what he was going through...
"You know what," he finally said, "you're his son, and if he can't find it in him to accept you for who you are, then...then...sod him! You're his son, and he's bound to come around, sometime. I'm sure he just needs a little while to get used to it, that's all. He'll come around, Draco. Mark my words, he'll come around."
Draco laughed a bit as Harry spoke, and it looked as though some of his spirit had been restored.
"Thanks, Harry. And thank Hermione for me, will you?" Draco suddenly said, and Harry furrowed his brow in confusion.
"Hermione? What would you thank her for?" he asked, puzzled beyond belief.
"Well," Draco said and turned towards him, "she sent you here, didn't she? And for that, I thank her." He smiled at Harry and turned back to the fire, still smiling. After a short pause, he added as an afterthought; "I'll have to apologize to her for the way I've treated her, one of these days. Will you remind me to do that, Harry?"
Draco turned towards him again, and Harry nodded, still puzzled by this change of topic.
"She's nice, isn't she? Hermione, I mean. She's nice. And clever. Isn't she?"
Harry nodded again, and uttered a few distorted sounds, unable to make any kind of spoken reply. He never thought he'd see the day when Draco Malfoy said something positive about Hermione Granger, and now it had come. Here they were, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy, sitting next to each other, speaking civilized to one another, and of all things to talk about, they were talking about Hermione Granger and how nice she was. Harry's instinct for when something odd was happening finally kicked in again. This was just too much. Draco and Lucius Malfoy were arguing, Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were on friendly terms, and Draco Malfoy was complimenting Hermione Granger. Something strange was happening. Harry had shut his eyes to it for a while, but now it suddenly hit him in the face. Something was wrong. As he came to this conclusion, Draco kept on talking and smiling to himself.
"She is nice. I think I quite like her. And Ron and you, of course. And I really like Ginny, too. I don't know why I didn't, before. It probably had something to do with my being a Slytherin."
'Or maybe it had something with your being an evil sod!' Harry could hear his mind screaming to him, but he didn't say anything. He just smiled and nodded, smiled and nodded. He didn't know what to say, he didn't know how to respond to this. He had just now realized that something was frightfully wrong, here. Not only was Draco behaving in a civilized manner, which wouldn't have been that much to frown about; he was acting in a creepy civilized manner. He was just too nice! He'd even forgiven his father for threatening to disown him! The old Draco would never have stood for anything like that. The old Draco would have gone mad with rage and taken it out on everyone around him. He wouldn't keep acting civilized towards everyone, and he certainly wouldn't smile as much as he did. Harry found himself staring at Draco with a puzzled look in his eyes, which he fought to hide as Draco turned towards him once again, grinning broadly.
"Let's go downstairs and find the others, shall we? I'd quite like to do something...fun!"
As Draco Malfoy jumped out of the sofa, took the letter from his father and threw it in the fireplace, before darting off towards the exit, Harry's suspicions that something was frightfully wrong only grew stronger. Something strange was going on, and he had no idea what it was, but one thing was for sure: He was going to find out.
Convincing the others that something was wrong with Draco proved to be a little harder than he had expected. He hadn't expected it to be too hard, since Draco had been their nemesis since they started at school, but after just a few days of knowing the nice Draco, everyone was convinced that he was a complete angel, and that this was just a side of him that hadn't had the opportunity to get out before. Hermione and Ginny were worse, and were spending just about every second of every day with the latest member of Gryffindor House, which meant that Harry had to spend time with him, as well, if he wanted to see Hermione and Ginny at all. Ron was almost as bad, and Harry had often seen him and Draco laughing and having a good time, but when he tried to join in, they suddenly went quiet. It was at its worst at nights, when they had all retired to the dormitories to sleep. There weren't enough beds, anymore, and so Draco had to sleep on a mattress on the floor between Ron's bed and Harry's bed. Harry hadn't thought too much of it until one night, when it suddenly dawned on him that Draco was constantly the centre of attention, and that everyone seemed to have almost fallen in love with him. Harry did not know what was going on, but he realized now that he preferred the old Draco to the new Draco. Things, however, were about to get a whole lot weirder.
It was a Monday night, and the Gryffindor common-room was completely full, even though it was really late. Draco was the centre of attention, as usual, and he was telling amusing stories that made everyone else roll around laughing. Everyone but Harry. He was sitting on the floor in front of the sofa where Ginny, Ron and Hermione were sitting, and he was listening to Draco's story. Just as it peaked, everyone around him, especially Hermione, Ginny and Ron, started laughing uncontrollably, and Draco smiled at them all. Harry looked behind him at his three best friends' faces, and realized that they were all smiling at Draco, like they once smiled at him. But Draco...Draco only had eyes for Ginny. They were looking each other right into the eyes, smiling at each other, laughing with each other... Suddenly, Harry got the distinct feeling that he didn't belong. He simply did not belong here, anymore. He got up and walked away from them, not attracting as much as a glance as he did so, and quickly exited the room. He crawled through the exit, pushed open the Fat Lady and walked away, not really sure of where he was going. His face was blank, his body was weak, but he kept on walking, almost marching, down a path he had walked many times before. He realized when he had got halfway that he was heading for Dumbledore's office. At least he had been heading for Dumbledore's office, until something stopped him.
"Potter!" a voice said, and he recognized it instantly.
"Good evening, Professor Snape," he answered and turned to where the voice had come from. All he could see at first was the light cast from a lit wand, and he did not notice until now that he'd been walking in complete darkness. As the light got closer, he could more clearly make out the shape carrying it, until he could at last see that it was Snape who was striding towards him, looking as serious and sadistic as he always did, with his black cloak flapping around him.
"Out taking a midnight stroll, Potter? Need I remind you that students are not to be outside their Houses at this time of night?" he said, and Harry thought he could detect just a faint glimmer of a cruel smile on his indifferent features.
"I am sorry, Professor. I was going to see Professor Dumbledore."
Suddenly, Snape's countenance changed completely, from being angry and cruel, to being interested and somewhat surprised.
"Oh, really? And what, pray tell, would you possibly want to bother the Headmaster with at this hour?"
Harry looked up at him, his face as blank as when he'd left the Gryffindor common-room just a few minutes earlier. Was he actually going to say this? Was he actually going to do this? He even surprised himself when he finally opened his mouth to speak, and those words leapt out, those words he thought he'd never speak.
"I think there might be a possibility that I have been placed in the wrong House, Professor."
Snape was quiet for a while as he studied Harry with a sceptical look across his face. Harry could feel himself getting a little annoyed at this delayed reaction of his, unless he was studying him because he doubted Harry's ability to tell the truth. In that case, it was even worse. As he stood there, he could almost feel himself getting more and more annoyed, and perhaps a bit offended, and he was just about to say something when the Professor again spoke.
"Follow me, Potter. I'll take you to him."
Twenty minutes later, they were all in Dumbledore's office. Harry was there, sitting on a chair in front of Dumbledore's desk, Snape was there, standing behind and just a little to Harry's right, Dumbledore was there, sitting behind his desk, and Professor McGonagall was there, standing behind and just a little to Dumbledore's right. Professor Dumbledore had asked that Professor Snape fetched her after he'd heard what Harry wanted to talk to him about, and she had come running. Both McGonagall and Dumbledore were staring at Harry with concerned looks in their faces, and it seemed that both of them had a bit of trouble believing what Harry had just been telling them. Harry could feel that he was a little annoyed with all of this, since he was under the distinct impression that this had all been much simpler when Malfoy thought he was in the wrong House.
"I have to say, Harry, what you are saying concerns me," Dumbledore said after having heard Harry out, "You're saying you do not think you belong in Gryffindor anymore, and that you want to be re-sorted?"
"I think, Albus," Snape interrupted before Harry had a chance to reply, "that young Potter here has already made that clear."
Harry watched as the Headmaster and Professor Snape exchanged looks, staring into each other's eyes like two archenemies that had always been on each other's throats.
"I am only making sure, Severus," Dumbledore replied, and looked back towards Harry, "Are you sure about this, Harry?"
"Yes," Harry quickly answered, before anyone had the chance to cut in and interrupt him, "I am absolutely sure. I want to be re-sorted. As soon as possible, in fact."
Harry was tired of all of this. Draco had sat down with Dumbledore, and Dumbledore alone, and he had gotten his way without further ado, but when Harry asked the same, they needed to include both Snape and McGonagall. Luckily, it at least seemed like Professor Snape was on his side. McGonagall, on the other hand, was a different story altogether.
"Mr. Potter," she started, "are you sure that you want to do this, or might your desire to do this perhaps be due to Draco Malfoy's acceptance into Gryffindor House?"
This, it seemed, was the question on everyone's mind, because it seemed that everyone, even Professor Snape, were now watching him with expectation written all over their faces, waiting for his reply to this question, which just might determine whether they would let Harry be re-sorted or not.
"Who cares," Harry answered, "if Draco Malfoy decides to join the ranks of golden boys and play 'nice' all of a sudden. All I know is that I don't want to end up like that. I want to go places, I want to achieve things, and I don't think I'll do that if all I do is sit around the fireplace and tell cosy stories and sing songs."
When he stopped talking, he finally noticed that McGonagall was gaping at him, while Dumbledore was looking extremely calm. He looked up at Snape, who was smirking at McGonagall. Harry looked back towards Dumbledore and smiled a content smile, knowing that he had done something right.
"Very well, Harry," Dumbledore finally said, "We will arrange another re-sorting for tomorrow."
Everything seemed normal during dinner the next day. The food was good, everyone seemed happy and relaxed, and Draco, Ginny, Ron and Hermione were going on like they always did. Harry was sitting amongst them, eating his food in silence and boredom, trying his best not to listen to the foolish conversations around the Gryffindor table. He looked around, and his eyes landed on Snape, who nodded slightly at him. He nodded back, and then let his gaze travel on to the other tables. Everyone was acting normally, but he felt that the Slytherins were paying a bit more attention to him than usual. He hadn't told anyone about what was going to happen, but it became clear to him now that Snape might have told his House of some of last night's events. He turned back to his food and took another bite. All of a sudden, the snapping of Dumbledore's fingers could be heard, and everyone gasped at the sight that met them when they turned to see what was going on. Harry turned around and looked where everyone else was looking, and saw that they were looking at a chair that had suddenly appeared before the teachers' table, next to a small table bearing the Sorting Hat. Harry again looked to Snape, who nodded slightly. So this was it, was it? This was the time? Professor McGonagall rose from her seat and walked calmly to the chair's location, gazing silently out across the assembly of students. The room was suddenly filled with the eager whispers of anxious students, who were looking from this side to that, wondering who was going to be sorted this time. Most eyes landed on Draco; in fact, all eyes landed on Draco, but he made it very clear that he wasn't the one, today, so everyone went back to looking at one another. Everyone, that is, except the Slytherins, who merely continued with their meal, and occasionally glanced up at Harry. Obviously, they knew what was going on.
Finally, Dumbledore stood up, and all the anxious whispering that had filled the room just a little while earlier died away, and all eyes were on Dumbledore. It was time. Dumbledore let his gaze travel across the assembly of students. Harry noticed that his eyes seemed to linger with him for a moment, before he let his eyes travel further down the ranks of students. At last, he addressed the assembly.
"Dear students of Hogwarts, it is my regret to have to inform you that one more of your fellow students believes that he has been placed in the wrong House, and wishes to be re-sorted," Harry could hear the whispering erupt once more; it was a he again? What was wrong with the boys of Hogwarts, these days? "Under the circumstances, I see no other alternative than to re-sort him as soon as possible, and hope that this will be the last time we will experience this."
Dumbledore paused and let his eyes travel across the assembly once more, and then let his eyes rest on Harry, almost like he was willing Harry to give him some sign that he had changed his mind, and wanted to stay in Gryffindor. Harry looked away, and focused instead on Snape, who was, at this time, smirking slightly in McGonagall's direction. He'd been doing a lot of that, today...
Finally, Dumbledore realized that there was no way Harry would change his mind, and, releasing an inaudible sigh, he addressed the assembly again, this time focusing on Harry, and Harry alone.
"Harry Potter, will you please step forth?"
Harry was almost delighted to hear that the gasp that travelled through the crowd was louder and more powerful than when Draco had gone through this, and so he couldn't help but smile, if only slightly, when he rose from his seat and walked slowly towards the chair at the front of the Hall.
"Harry?" he could hear Hermione saying as he passed, but he ignored her and kept on walking, determined to do this and get re-sorted. Ron made a grab for him, but missed and had to give up. All around him, pleas for him to stop could be heard, but he ignored them all with great ease, focusing all the time at the chair up ahead. For just a moment, he glanced towards Snape, who seemed to be cheering him on. He nodded towards him, encouraging him to continue, and Harry nodded back. He was going to do this. Snape could be sure of that.
Finally, he reached the chair, and he sat down, looking out across the assembly at all the amazed faces. McGonagall leaned down to his side, and whispered softly in his ear.
"Are you absolutely sure?"
Harry nodded, discarding her without effort, and gestured for her to get a move on. She stood up straight again, and from the corner of his eye he could see her lifting the Hat, moving it towards him, closer and closer, until it was over his head and he could no longer see it. The crowd held its breath, he could see they were holding their breath, and so he knew the Hat was approaching his head. Finally, he felt it, landing gently atop his head.
"So..." he heard it saying, "back again? I've never been wrong, you know."
"You were wrong about Malfoy," he answered, nonchalantly.
"Oh, yes...I forgot about him. What an odd coincidence that it should be you two who doubt my decision. It has never happened before, you know."
"I know," Harry answered, impatiently, "now sort me."
"So impatient!" the Hat exclaimed, "Well, if you demand it..." it paused, and Harry wondered if he should ask what on earth it was doing, but then it spoke again, "Hmm...I see... I said you would do well in Slytherin, you remember, but you chose Gryffindor. You yourself chose Gryffindor. You begged me not to place you in Slytherin, you know. You begged!"
"I was wrong. I don't belong in Gryffindor," he answered, feeling hundreds of eyes looking at him in bewilderment.
"How do you know?" the Hat asked, and Harry was at a loss. How did he know? He wasn't sure. He honestly wasn't sure.
"I just do," he answered, angrily, "Are you ever going to sort me?"
"I see, I see..." the Hat said, "No, it's very obvious where you belong. I know just what to do with you."
The Hat was silent for a moment, and Harry listened for his judgement. But the Hat remained quiet for what seemed like an eternity. Why wasn't it saying anything? He said he knew, so why wasn't he telling him? His mind was demanding that it tell him, but the rest of him was silent, waiting for the Hat's decision.
"Slytherin!"
He wasn't sure if he'd expected it once he heard it. The crowd gasped, even McGonagall gasped, and he even thought Dumbledore might have gasped. He turned and looked to his side, where Professor Snape was now smiling, almost grinning. The second he saw Harry was looking, his smile faded, of course, and instead of a smile, he got another nod, one that clearly stated that he approved, and Harry smiled. The Slytherin table started chanting "We got potter, we got Potter," and Harry turned to them and smiled again, proudly and with satisfaction, before he lifted the Hat from his own head - expecting McGonagall to be too disappointed to do so, herself - and placed it on the table beside him. He stood up and quickly made his way down from the rise in the floor, marching steadily towards the Slytherin table with a smile across his face, where he was welcomed with open arms. Crabbe and Goyle cleared a seat for him between the two of them, and Harry sat down, greeting his new House-mates with pleasure.
"Welcome to Slytherin, Harry," one of the other boys said to him, smiling.
"It's good to be here," Harry answered, and helped himself to a piece of chicken.
...to be continued