DISCALIMER: I own nothing. Damn it.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Yup, I'm starting a brand new fic, though I am in no way abandoning my others.

This is post OotP and thus will follow cannon up to that point, even if it doesn't seem like it at first.

Hope you like it.

The Trouble With (In)Animate Objects

by Louise

CHAPTER ONE

Harry Potter was in his seventh and final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and until the third Monday of the school year it had looked like it was going to be the least eventful year of the seven. Which perhaps wasn't saying much, given that he was Harry Potter and the dramas of his first five years seemed positively common place when compared with the events of his sixth, where Voldemort, sick of subtle intrigue, decided to make a last stand and storm Hogwarts.

Sadly it was more reminiscent of Custer than Wellington.

His timing was perfect, choosing the post exam feast to burst into the Great Hall and challenge Dumbledore to a duel. Sadly his spies had failed to discover that Dumbledore had invited several Aurors to the feast to inspire the students, along with representatives from the Bulgarian and French ministries in an attempt to rekindle relations enough to allow for another tri-wizard tournament, being totally unphased that the last one had resulted in a student's death.

Harry Potter hadn't even been needed in the Final Battle, with the foreign visitors, aghast at the rudeness of the attack, throwing curses at Lord Voldemort that, being off the 'New Curses to Show and Tell' mailing list for several years, he had naturally not heard of and thus not guarded himself against.

It was a spectacular battle and one which people soon began to suspect that Dumbledore had anticipated, acting perhaps on information provided by a network of Slytherin students who were desperate to avoid unflattering tattoos.

Dumbledore himself drew on power reserves none had realised he possessed to bind Voldemort's soul to the body he currently inhabited, while the combination of curses thrown by the foreign visitors, whether intentionally or no, reacted with each other to create a bomb effect, dismembering the Dark Lord and scattering his body across the Great Hall, effectively putting people off their desert.

As with any battle, there were casualties. Voldemort was an acceptable fatality, his death being the whole point, but others were not so welcomed. Ravenclaw Terry Boot and Hufflepuff Joseph Moon in Harry's year, along with two Gryffindor fifth year's, Sally Clarke and Jacob Moon, and another two Ravenclaw seventh years, Andrew Davies and Simon Nott, had been exposed as spying for Voldemort and were captured in the short battle. Instead of returning to the school, they were in a young offenders institution adopted from the muggle criminal justice system after urging from Harry Potter, who had finally realised that his status as the Boy Who Could Do No Wrong could be used to improve the system for the better.

Other casualties included Severus Snape, who was hit with several bouts of Crutatious by an infuriated Crabbe and Goyle senior when his betrayal was realised. He had been writhing in pain for nearly twenty minutes before joint action by Neville Longbottom and Draco Malfoy rescued him, one boy acting because he couldn't stand to see anyone end up like his parents and the other because he loved Snape like a parent. Snape spent several days in a pain induced coma before waking, decidedly frayed and still weak months later.

Dean Thomas was also injured in halting Terry Boot's escape, nearly losing an eye after an attack by the irate Ravenclaw. As a result he was forced to wear glasses for several years so as not to strain his eyes too much.

Ginny Weasley also suffered, though it was more an emotional than physical injury, the betrayal of their friend shaking her social circle and making them grow up before their years.

Equally, Hufflepuff was rocked by the idea that loyalty could be a bad quality, Jospeh Moon's loyalty to his family and their beliefs has turned him into a dedicated supporter of Voldemort.

Slytherin too suffered losses, should anyone care to look that way. While none of their current members had supported Voldemort, the older years were forced to stand against students they had looked up to and depended on when they were younger, Marcus Flint and Kyle Snyder being two such students turned Death Eaters who were unmasked during the battle. Equally several Slytherins were directly opposing one or both parents that day, families being torn apart by the conflict. There were the fortunate few, such as Blaise Zabini and Milicent Bulstrode whose parents had actively encouraged them to avoid Voldemort's clutches, or the even luckier ones such as Pansy Parkinson whose parents had never pledged themselves to Voldemort, claiming that those of pureblood aristocracy should never and would never bow to anyone. But many were forced to choose on that day, and many suffered. Draco Malfoy was the perfect example, choosing his caring mentor over his remote father. Lucius had uttered an almost inhuman howl of disbelieving outrage when Draco saved Snape, turning his wand on his son for the first time in his life, totally ignoring the fact that this was the only heir to the Malfoy name and fortune, and the last tenuous link between himself and the wife he adored. Draco, bent over Snape and trying to rouse him, stood no chance and the curse would have hit him straight on had it not been for Neville, who threw up a protective shield so strong that Lucius was hit by his own spell on the rebound. So you see Slytherin suffered its own losses in the battle, but no one cared to look.

When people returned in September there was a great sense of this being a chance to start again, a time for rebuilding. The older years were more serious, more grown up, Ravenclaw especially, having been shaken to the core by the idea that the top three years of their house had all fostered traitors, and that the current top two years were missing people who should be there, people who were instead in jail.

There was, however, no greater spirit of openness, of sharing, rather each house was trying to get themselves in order. House rivalries had always been important, and rather than allowing the experiences of last year unite them, the older students clung to the old rivalries in a desperate attempt to have something than was normal, that was meant to be that way; it seem that the entire school breathed a sigh of relief at the first sign of conflict between Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. It wasn't a matter of life or death, it was more important than that: it was about living.

For the first two weeks nothing remarkable happened, expecting that the final battle had completed what the DA had started and Neville Longbottom had finally accepted that magic could help as well as harm, and was no longer afraid to put energy behind his work. As such he blossomed, and Harry finally saw why he was the other child the prophecy could have referred to, the magic in him shining out, making him far more confident.

The third Monday of the term started off well, sun shining, birds singing and a good feeling in the air. The Gryffindor and Slytherin seventh years were particularly pleased that morning because they were to begin Animagus studies and all were eagerly awaiting the time when they would discover if they possessed the necessary ability to turn the theory they would all learn into practice.

Nineteen of the twenty students were all ready in place when Professor McGonnagol entered the classroom carrying something grey and cloth like. A quick glance round confirmed that it was Harry Potter who was missing, a boy who really didn't deal well with Monday mornings.

Setting her package on the desk, the class gasped as it sat up straighter and shook itself slightly, all realising what is was.

"I have bought the Sorting Hat into today's lesson because it provides a useful starting point for identifying those with the potential to become Anamagi. Each of you will come forward and I will place the hat on your head…"

Before she could get any further the door opened and an apologetic Harry Potter burst in.

"Sorry I'm late, got caught up," he mumbled, searching in his bag for his pen – he had abandoned quills after the Umbridge incident and no one could convince him to return to using them and in the end (after several detentions and countless points being removed) they gave up.

"Five points from Gryffindor, please sit down quietly. As I was saying, you will place the Sorting Hat on your head…"

"Sorting Hat?"

"Yes Mr. Potter, its use can prevent a lot of time being wasted by rooting out those without the potential to become Animagus."

"I'm sorry but I can not take part," Harry stood up.

"What?"

"The Hat and I, we had a bit of a falling out and, well, I've sent it to Coventry."

"Mr Potter!" McGonnagol was horrified, clutching the hat protectively, "you have not and will not be sending this hat anywhere, it is school property! Do you hear me?"

"It's a muggle saying," Hermione explained, unable to contain her laughter, "it means Harry isn't talking to the hat."

"That is most bizarre," she shook her head, "but you will take part in this lesson Mr. Potter, personal…disputes with the hat aside," she said this in the same way you say things in your dreams, when you expect to wake up and re-enter normality at any moment because, really, who feuds with a hat?

"Scared Potter?" the Hat drawled, and if Harry had been speaking to it he would have replied in the same way he did to Malfoy, with a half angry, half scared 'you wish.' He was, however, determined not to let the Hat bait him, he was going to rise above it. "Hero of the wizarding world scared of what's inside his head?"

Had he been talking to the hat he would have observed that it really was scarily like Malfoy at times, but then again it would probably see that as a compliment.

"Aw, don't be like that Harry," it was coaxing now, less sleazy and attempting friendliness, "you know I only say it for your own good."

Harry just glared at the Hat, his face set in an expression that all recognised as his 'really angry' face.

The class were watching the two eagerly; heads moving back and forth like the spectators at Wimbledon, inwardly speculating as to what exactly the Hat could be referring to.

"Come on Harry," the Hat was still coaxing, "just sit down, let me take a little tour inside. Maybe you've changed, maybe what was then isn't anymore, maybe…"

"…maybe I should introduce you to a pair of scissors," Harry fumed, causing McGonnagol to utter a small, ungainly shriek. "There is a reason hat's are inanimate objects, after all."

"Now, now Harry, anger is the last refuge of a desperate man," the Hat scolded, smiling slightly.

"No, that would be sarcasm. Anger is a positive solution and a way to move forward," Harry smirked, waving a newly conjured pair of scissors at the Hat.

"Now Harry, you wouldn't want to force my hand now, would you? You are showing some decidedly-"

"Don't say things like that," Harry snarled, "I am not now nor have I ever been one of them."

"But you could be and you'd do it so well."

"Wouldn't"

"Would"

"Wouldn't"

"Would"

"Wouldn't"

"Would…oh come on Harry, as much as I like this familiar banter, couldn't you just try it, for just a week?"

"Oh please, it would take me a week to be able to sleep at night without fear of being murdered in my bed."

The class may not have the first idea just what the debate was about but they could all see that Harry had just walked straight into a trap there.

"Oh, so you'd rather spend a month there, then. Nice to see you are finally coming around to my way of thinking," every word was laced with smirking satisfaction – who would have guessed a hat could be so expressive? "That only leaves one thing for me to say…"

"…don't you dare…" Harry yelled, desperate now.

"…Slytherin."

Harry groaned, body slumped in defeat.

"You bastard."

"It's for your own good, Harry," the Hat comforted him.

"How? In first year, maybe, but I'm a Gryffindor, I can't learn anything from them, excepting new and exciting ways of running away…" suddenly he perked up, "Dumbledore won't let you…"

"Oh I assure you he will," the Hat grinned, "in this respect I have the power. It's already been arranged."

"I refuse."

"You've got no choice Harry, look at your robe."

Slowly Harry looked down, the rest of the class following his gaze. Where the red and gold lion, the emblem of Gryffindor had sat, there was now a snake on a green and silver background.

"What the…" Draco Malfoy snarled.

"The Hat finally got its way," Harry met his gaze, matching expressions of dismay on their faces, "I'm finally a member of Slytherin."

END CHAPTER ONE

Well, what did you think? Should I continue?

Please review.