Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter
The train ride was long. Mainly due to a bushy haired girl called Hermione Granger who wanted to spend the entire journey discussing the Hogwarts syllabus, and all the text books (that she'd apparently already read). The one reprieve Harry got was from a nice, shy boy named Neville Longbottom. Harry could already feel that the two got along quite well and was pleased to realise that Neville was probably his first friend at Hogwarts - and one of his first friends ever.
It wasn't that Harry had no friends. There was a group of boys who he sometimes played football with down at the park near his house, and he would consider them friends, but other than that there wasn't really anybody. Dudley had made sure of that. Harry had become the number one target for bullies at his primary school and being a target often meant having no friends - and Harry really couldn't blame any of the others kid, he understood their desire to stay out of Dudley's crosshairs. (Well he might blame them a little, - he rationally knew it wasn't their fault - but irrationally? Irrationally Harry's life was miserable, and maybe if one of them had been nice to them he could have had a reprieve at school, because he certainly got no reprieves at home).
"Longbottom?" Harry repeated. "Why do I recognise your name?"
"You probably don't," Neville replied, a faint blush on his cheeks, "It's just a funny last name or whatever."
"No..." Harry trailed off trying to figure out why it sounded familiar. "Griphook," Harry started ignoring both Hermione and Neville's bewildered expressions as he ploughed on in realisation. "Griphook said that you were descendants of the Ash- the Ash something?" Harry asked, not quite being able to place his finger on the name.
"Griphook?" Hermione asked, and Harry struggled to not be annoyed as she interrupted his musings.
"The goblin from Gringotts." Harry told her shortly, not willing to elaborate further and risk diving into some sort of conversation with Hermione, he'd only known her for about an hour, maybe two and he could already tell that she was a talker - and not in a good way, more in the possessive, controlling way that showed she thought whatever she had to say was more important than you, and that everyone else should just listen to her.
"Huh." Neville replied perplexed - though Harry couldn't quite figure out by what. "I think we are descendants of the Ashtons."
"Ashtons?" Hermione interrupted again, clearly feeling out of place as she didn't understand the conversation.
"That's it!" Harry exclaimed, blushing as it came out a little louder than he'd expected. "Apparently your descendants were some of the first to open a vault in Gringotts."
"I wouldn't know." Neville replied a contemplative look on his face. "My gran hasn't talked to me much about them, and I haven't seen their vaults. I think we're descendants on my mum's side and that's why I haven't been- my gran wouldn't be able to access the vaults as she's my dad's mum." Neville replied, saying more in one sentence that Harry had heard him say in the last two hours (it was now 12:48 Harry realised looking at his watch, though it had felt like he'd been on the train for far longer).
"Interesting." Harry commented, not sure whether it would be appropriate for him to keep pressing, or whether it might be a touchy subject. Harry, obviously, didn't know all the details, but the way Neville was speaking about his parents implied that they were dead, and the fact that he was living with his grandmother seemed to reaffirm that conclusion.
Hermione didn't seem to have the same reservations. "I think if it were me," she began in a rather snooty, insensitive tone, "I'd have kept the surname Ashton. Sounds a lot more distinguished now, doesn't it?" She asked rhetorically - in a way that showed she didn't actually want an answer, the conclusion she'd come to must be right.
"I don't think his last name really reflects his person." Harry retorted, growing slightly irritated on Neville's behalf.
"Now I didn't say that." Hermione cut back, looking offended that Harry had questioned her in the slightest. "Just that Longbottom isn't exactly..." She trailed off, raising an eyebrow that finished the sentence for her.
"It's my dad's name." Neville replied quietly. "I'm proud of it."
Harry couldn't help but smile at Neville's response. He didn't know why but he was already protective of the boy - maybe it was because he could tell he was picked on, like Harry had been, maybe for his weight, his last name, his timid nature. Harry knew that Hermione wasn't being malicious with her comments - insensitive for sure, but malicious no - though either way there was a side to her character which seemed to get a rise out of putting other people down, flaunting her own knowledge so she could feel superior. It was probably because she too had been bullied, so she used her intellect and knowledge as an armour.
Not that Harry was a therapist - but he had been to many sessions, so he did understand basic psychology. He'd only known her for 2 hours but he felt like he understood Hermione pretty well... Neville was marginally more perplexing.
They sat in silence after Neville's response, Hermione not quite knowing how to respond to his statement, before Neville realised he'd lost his toad - yes, a toad, as a pet - Trevor. Hermione seemed to take that as a sign that she could redeem herself (perhaps being aware that she'd overstepped, or perhaps she just liked being bossy and in control).
"Well then, let's go look for it- him." Hermione ordered, standing up and brushing the wrinkles out of her clothes. Neville followed her example, looking slightly bewildered as she seemed to make finding Trevor her new mission.
"I'm going to rest for a bit if that's okay, I get a bit travel sick to be frank." Harry told them, feeling slightly guilty as he lied to get out of finding Trevor. It wasn't that it was a complete lie though, he tried to reassure himself, he was tired, well exhausted to be honest, Hermione had spent two hours grilling him on every aspect of the Hogwarts' subjects, and talking about Hogwarts: A History, and then the houses - Hermione was split between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, whereas Neville wanted to be in Gryffindor but seemed to reluctantly accept that he'd be in Hufflepuff (Harry wasn't so sure after he stood up for his father though - there was a hint of bold and brave behind is timid exterior).
Hermione nodded, looking slightly condescending before turning to leave the door as Neville scampered after her looking a bit like a lost puppy. Harry tried to settle down after they left, taking the opportunity to change into his robes in private. After nearly an hour Hermione and Neville returned, no toad in hand but accompanied with stories about their encounter with Draco Malfoy (the blonde Harry had previously met in Madam Malkins) and then with Ron Weasley.
Apparently Malfoy had been a git to Neville, and then even more of a git (probably insert a stronger word here) towards Hermione, after recognising her to be a muggleborn. According to Neville, Draco was a pureblood like him, but Draco was born into the Malfoy family, to a Lucius and a Narcissa. Harry couldn't help but snort as Neville said his mother's name, Narcissa having presumably derived from Narcissus, a tale from Greek mythology Harry could vaguely recall where a man became infatuated with his own reflection. Harry could already presume Draco might be similar to that. Apparently Lucius Malfoy was an important pureblood in wizarding society, rich and with lots of influence, including a seat on the Hogwarts' Board of Governors.
Ron Weasley on the other hand was a more funny tale. When Hermione and Neville had been searching for Trevor they had stumbled into the boy's compartment, where he sat with two other kids, Dean and Sean Hermione said she thought they were called. There Ron had been attempting to do a spell on his own pet rat - apparently the wizarding world had... interesting... taste in pets - but had failed completely, unable to even give off a spark of magic with his wand.
After a couple more hours of strained conversation with Hermione (Neville seeming to be too anxious to hold any proper conversation unfortunately for Harry), as well as some time trying out various jelly beans - Bertie Botts Every Flavoured Beans apparently meant every flavour of jelly beans, including a disgusting wood tasting one - the train ride came to a screeching end.
The three got lost in a large crowd bustling away from the current of people towards a large giant of a man with a big bushy beard and holding a lantern high in the air whilst shouting "Firs' years over here," on repeat. He seemed to be looking around, glancing at people's faces curiously, as though looking for a specific person, but soon everyone had arrived and with disappointment the giant led them onto small wooden boats, "Four to a boat," Hagrid started shouting. Sharing a boat with, whom based on Neville and Hermione's earlier description, was most likely Ron, Dean and Sean (though Harry would later find out his name was Seamus, not Sean), they quickly departed across an enormous lake.
The four sat in silence after a muffled exchange of names, shivering in the cold. As they turned the corner the armada of first years gasped in awe and wonder as they caught sight of the castle: Hogwarts. There were twinkling, yellow lights in every window, lighting up the castles like the stars lit up the dark and windy night, and huge towers bursting forth into the sky. The view, much to the gratitude of Harry, and presumably the other first years, briefly distracted them from the biting cold September night, and the small fleet soon reached a harbour-type area from which they were hurried into the castle.
Harry smiled slightly at the familiar face of the stern McGonagall who nodded slightly at him, and a few others who she'd obviously also met prior to this day. "All here Hagrid?" She asked, revealing the giant's name, who replied with a yes, allowing her to take that as a signal to start an obviously well rehearsed speech, about Hogwarts, houses and them being their families, and the sorting.
McGonagall's description of the houses as becoming "like families" seemed slightly idealistic in Harry's opinion. He'd earlier heard that there were four houses. One for the brave, one for the loyal, one for the cunning, and one for the smart. However in Harry's brief experience with the world, he knew that people couldn't easily be divided into brackets like that and be expected to get along 'like family'. There were many people he couldn't fit in to anyone of those: Vernon, for one.
Deciding to hold off on his evaluation of the house system until he had actual experience of it, Harry stood in silence, ignoring the frantic whispers of nervous first years, the preaching of Hermione to anyone who'd listen as she recollected on her readings of spells from the textbooks, and Ron Weasley talking about fighting some troll or something mildly insane like that. Harry shut them out, trying to focus on taking deep breaths like he'd been taught to do whenever he was anxious or having a panic attack, however those deep breaths were suddenly interrupted by screams and ghosts. Yes. Ghosts.
Well, to be fair, if you can be in a world where you can have goblins, and witches, and wizards, why on earth couldn't you have ghosts.
"Here for the sorting?" A friendly fat ghost asked, which seemed to Harry to be a bit of a stupid question, the answer was rather obvious after all. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff,"
"Or Gryffindor." Another chipped in.
"Leave the first years alone," The only female ghost was heard saying as they passed threw the wall, sounding slightly cold, and less friendly than the others, but certainly more rational. "Stop scaring them."
Everyone was turning round to each other, about to speak when McGonagall's stern tones cut through the air. "We are ready for you now, you may follow me into the hall."
The hall, which they followed McGonagall into was enormous. There were four long tables, filled with plates and bowls, empty but ready to be filled. Banners hung over those tables, over the table on the left hung red and gold banners with animated lions roaring on, over another table were yellow and black banners with badgers, the third table was accompanied by blue and bronze banners with eagles flying around on them, and on the fourth and final table were green and silver banners, with hissing snakes slithering around on them.
"The ceiling!" Somebody whispered urgently in awe, awe which soon became a spread as the first years cast their gaze up to the ceiling. 'The ceiling' - if you can call it that - was a dark sky mimicking the weather outside, but luckily without the wind, rain and pollution that accompanied it, it also lay there like a blanket with thousands of twinkling stars and planets embroidered on it, twinkling.
You could see the solar system, the planets, Saturn, Neptune and Mars as clearly as you could see... a hat? A hat. Sitting on a stool on a raised platform in front of another table, horizontally placed in contrast to the students' tables which were vertically placed, if you were looking at it from the door. Seeing Hagrid on the table Harry presumed it to be the teacher's table.
This theory was backed up by a chair, which could almost be described as a throne - not that the chair was the important detail in what Harry had just surveyed. No. The important detail was the man with a long white beard and half-moon glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, peering benevolently down at the amazed first years. Albus Dumbledore.
Harry recognised him from some of the few books he read, said to be one, if not the most powerful wizard of the time, defeater of Grindelwald, a dark wizard who'd tried to take over the wizarding world during the 1930s and 1940s. Now despite the fact that he seemed well over one hundred, you could still sense the power radiating off of him. Caught staring by the man himself, Harry blushed and looked away, before realising that the other first years were now stopping at the front of the hall. McGonagall walked over until she was next to the hat, who's mouth teared open and began singing.
Yes, you read that write, a singing hat.
He sang a song about the houses and their traits, as though advertising each to the students,
The hat - the Sorting Hat somebody whispered - began to sing a song... a song about the houses and their traits, what made each house special and good - almost as though the hat was singing some sort of propaganda for each of the Hogwarts' houses. As his? its? mouth closed for the final time, all the students and teachers began clapping and the first years quickly followed suit. The hat bowed in the direction of each houses' table and the McGonagall regained everyone's attention with the words: "Let the Sorting Begin."
The sorting commenced with Abbott, who became Hufflepuff, then there was Bones and Boot and Brown and Brocklehurst and so on and so on, until finally it was the Rs, and as such: Reynolds. Harry was called and he stepped forwards, trying to not show how nervous he was as he walked up to the hat and put it on.
Hmm, you are an interesting one aren't you.
Harry couldn't help but jump as he heard the hat talking to him. He didn't know what he'd expected when he'd put it on, and realising now that he was almost foolish for not - how else would putting a hat on a head enable that to sort them.
Ah that's alright young one, most people don't realise.
That caused Harry to jump even more. Not only could the hat talk to him but it could read his mind? Harry couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with that, he'd wanted his tortured past to remain a secret.
A hard life you've lived indeed, but don't worry I won't tell. I won't tell about your little secret either, hiding your identity, always intriguing and I can't wait to see how this rolls out.
Harry couldn't help but feel confused as the hat told him he was hiding his identity... what identity? His ancestors being the founders perhaps?
Oh my, oh my, oh my... Godric's heir... yet you don't even know who you really are yet, you are an interesting one indeed.
Its going to give me so much enjoyment this year seeing Dumbles trying to figure out where Harry Potter is, then for him to realise he was right under his nose all along.
Oh child you will give me so much amusement, I won't tell your secret, don't worry about that Mr Reynolds.
Now to my job... the sorting.
The hat seemed rather reluctant at that, as though it enjoyed Harry's confusion as he rambled on about hidden identities and secrets.
You could fit in any house, brave, yes, loyal, yes, cunning, well obviously, however...
I do believe you will fit in most amongst the Claws, the smart ones, intelligent, unique. Unique indeed.
Very well. I have made my decision. I hope we meet again Mr Reynolds, though I suspect if we did the circumstances wouldn't be... Comfortable.
"Ravenclaw!" The house shouted, and Harry took the hat off his head and walked down to the table amidst cheers from the 'Claws. However he was still very confused, the sorting hat knew his real name, and apparently knew a lot more about himself than even Harry did. This train of thought lasted until Blaise Zabini was sorted into Slytherin, and then it was interrupted by vast quantities of food appearing onto the table, alerting Harry to how hungry he really was. Making light conversation with the other Ravenclaw first years Harry ate his food, pushing the question of "who is Harry Potter really", to the back of his mind. For now at least.