Well that was a lot easier to correct then I predicted. Here I thought this one was going to be long and hard as… well… I'll let your imaginations fill that one in. Other topics include: More Characters and Hats. Have fun.
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Book I :: Chapter 5 :: The Sorting
Harry sat quietly with his trunk next to him on the train seat growing accustomed to the unusual atmosphere between himself and Hermione. Hermione sitting across from him spent that last hour throwing out question after question at him without remorse. Harry had been under fire before, but this was both hysterical and ridiculous. The rate of fire she demonstrated with her words could put an uzi to shame, possibly even a minigun.
No one could possible say the girl didn't have a vivid imagination. Then again it depended on what you considered to be imagination. If it was the ability to create and envision a magical world inside your head with rainbows and unicorns, then no, Hermione was a flat as a brick… which was technically true both figuratively and literally. If imagination was views as a predictive, analytical model of possible events and possibilities taking into account even randomness that was acquainted with magic, then yes, Hermione had a VERY vivid imagination.
Harry finally took a breath and gave a quick but sharp whistle that shot Hermione a good inch into the air in surprise. Harry gave her a calming mirth filled smile glad to see he got her attention.
"Take a breath Hermione. It's no use getting worked up before anything's started." With those words finally said, Harry waited for the subsequent panic that her imagination was going to ring up again. No sooner did she speak then his predication came true, much to his amusement.
"I can't, I mean we don't know right. What if other students mess up our homework? What if we can't hand it in because someone jinxed it? I mean what's to stop them from casting spells at us? What if we get injured? What if –"
"Hermione!" Harry shouted causing her to stop rambling - again. Sighing he closed his text book. "In order. No, we can't know; we deal with it; we use a counter spell; the professors and our wands; we go to the resident healer. Please hold the question to a minimum of 4, even my memory isn't that good."
Hermione went pink in response seeing how over the top she was. Despite what others might have thought the girl was very self-conscious. She knew she had flaws and instead of getting bogged down by them focused on her perks. This unfortunately resulted in her ignoring said flaws to let them fester and loom over her mockingly. Not a good thing for someone as driven as her to be better.
"I'm sorry Harry. It's just –"
But she stopped talking. Harry with a finger over her lips smiled. "We'll figure out what to do, okay Hermione. You will do brilliant and if either of us struggle we'll meet up to fix the problem." As he removed his finger from his lips, the cherry red blush she had strengthened as she realized what he had done. Harry also blushed slightly at this. She was just too cute. How could anyone hate such a girl. Sure, if you only looked at the surface yeah, she was a bossy, follow the rules, stick in the mud. But that layer was oh so thin, if a bit numerous.
Right now, he could see her for who she was. A shy girl, entering an unknown environment where she lacks the knowledge to be confident about herself. Having no friends, no family nearby, she turns to the only familiar thing that lets her feel comfortable, books and her knowledge. Her love of learning and reading directs her to try to be helpful and inquisitive. Unfortunately, along with her under par social skills and awareness she unfortunately comes off as bossy and uncaring, even smug.
Oh, how wrong those people were. To Harry anyway there was nothing more enjoyable then watching this unconfutable girl struggle under his gaze while trying to retain her sense of familiarity. Sure, she was failing which resulted in a fun game of panicked twenty questions but hey, who ever said anyone was perfect. Certainly not Harry, who was oddly unconfutable himself being nearly ten times older then Dumbledore and flirting with his twelve-year-old crush in an eleven-year-old body. Yeah, that's a thing. Well on the plus side, at least she was uncomfortable enough to miss him reading her fifth question before she asked it.
"But what if we end up in different houses –" Hermione began to ask, but once again was cut short by Harry's response.
"We'll still help each other. If my house has a problem with me being with you then they can sod off and kiss a Lethifold."
"A what?" Hermione asked.
Harry grinned sinisterly. "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, 4th year edition, Chapter 14, under the XXXXX dangerous beasts' category" Harry explained waiting for the outcry he knew was to come.
3...2...1... he counted down and~.
"HARRY! That just...just...so –" Hermione stuttered out, incredulous that Harry could say something so... so... barbaric.
"I'm just saying." Harry mumbled. He slouched over folding his hands. Green eyes glazed into Amber and Hermione stopped, finding herself once again outside her comfort zone. Who could blame her; those emerald green eyes were famous for swallowing the hearts of women, or at least were according to his bibliography.
Harry for once however was trying to swallow her heart with them, gazing meaningfully into hers with as much compassion as he could muster. "Hermione you're the first person I've ever been able to have a real conversation with. Someone my own age who sees just me. With you I'm not a freak. I'm not something all powerful. I'm not the boy-who-lived. I'm just Harry."
Looking up directly into his eyes, no longer trying to avoid them, all Hermione could see was the tears that no longer existed. Tears long lost from years of suffering and loneliness which threaten to fall within his eyes. While she herself didn't realize this, to her the site screamed to her even as she knew not what the gaze was. The look that screamed out pain, sorrow, joy, and happiness contradicted everything she understood about facial expressions, simply registering as unknown in her mind. Something that was tantalizing to her always curious mind.
"I won't give that up." he said morbidly. "At least... not unless you want me to."
Hermione was about to respond but both were interrupted as the door to their compartment slid open. There within the frame stood a red-haired boy who apparently lacking any tack. His lanky body was draped in patch worked second hand clothing and a in his left hand a rather plump and stupid looking rat. The boy seemed uncertain under their stares but upon seeing Harry a lightbulb went off and he stood a bit more rigid in his uncertainty. A physical response that did not fall below Harry's notice and of which rubbed him all the wrong ways. The worst part was Harry felt bonded to the boy because he resembled Ginny so much, only male… and unkept… and holding a rat… and not awesome… and not hot… and, ok Harry already disliked him. Bad enough he interrupted him and Hermione's moment, rudely at that, but he also reminded him of Ginny and that was not a comfortable thing. Harry was straight, he liked girls and his feelings for them over lapping this twig was not a comforting thought, quite the opposite in fact.
"Sorry, um... Mind if I join you? Everyone else 's full." Harry held his tongue at this. Who needed mind reading when you openly fib like that? Hogwarts was built to hold thousands and even if enrollment rates were on the decline the train was built well over a hundred years ago. No room, please, the train was capable of holding nearly five times as many students as it was currently.
Either taking their silence as a yes or ignoring them completely the flaming red-haired boy walked in sitting next to Hermione. And like that her softened expression that she had acquired sharpened to a point and hardened as she tried to distance herself from the rude boy.
"I'm Ron by the way, Ron Weasley."
Harry glanced at Hermione as she too appeared put off by the Weasley. Turning to him she curtly said, "Hermione Granger," with as blunt and polite reply as she could muster.
He turned to face Harry who made certain his head was angled just right so that his forehead was facing away from the boy. The last thing Harry wanted was to deal with him and this boy screamed of those schmucks that would love to bask in his fame. "Harry" he finally said curtly. Between the feeling of disgust and hate, along with that horrid first impression Harry still tried to restrain his bias.
After all, Hermione wasn't the same women he knew, she was a young girl with no experience in socializing with others. There was no reason for him to point his own bias feelings towards him like a cloaked dagger. All the same, holding his tongue and not acting on his instinct that screamed at him to gut the boy like a pig was horrifyingly difficult. Hell, Harry felt he'd have an easier time not yelling at a man pointing a gun at him to remove his finger from the trigger.
Similarly, to himself Hermione found herself equally confused and conflicted. Unlike Harry's struggling to reign in his instincts in regards to Ron Weasley, she was left confused by the change in demeanor in her new found friend. She looked at him, left puzzled by his sudden change of attitude and made her to ask what was wrong. Up until now he was supportive and polite. He had been forward, and honest with her, yet now it almost felt like he was forcing himself to lie through his teeth.
"Harry... wait... you're Harry Potter." Ron shouted in excitement clearly pleased to be sitting with Harry after a moment of thought on his part. Hermione was all but forgotten to him and his subsequent action showed that to him she didn't matter. Inching forward he pushed himself forward to continue the nonexistent conversation with Harry.
"So is it true, do you have the... well you know. Scar."
And there it was. Harry let out the sigh of exasperation he had been holding in. Well it wasn't like he'd be able to keep it hidden for long, and it really it was amazing he kept his identity hidden this long considering how packed Diagon Alley was. Lifting his bangs away, wanting to get it over with, Harry revealing the lightning bolt shaped scar upon his forehead, the mark of his own weakness and sacrifice of his parents.
"Wicked!" Ron muttered out in both awe and shock, mesmerized by the bloody thing. An action that did not make it easier for Harry to warm up to the boy.
Harry half ignored Ron's expression of amazement. Like a chant he kept telling himself to give the boy some doubt. He was what, eleven, most likely grew up with stories of his grandeur and was sitting in front of someone famous. To the wizarding world it was like if the queen's son was sitting in front of you. What eleven-year-old lad wouldn't be excited. Plus, the nature of his story was fantasized and marketed without remorse for the dead. Harry knew the boy deserved some leeway.
Maybe given a chance, the boy could change and achieve his own greatness. Sure, such thoughts entered Harry's mind when Ron appeared in the doorway which stayed his hand, but so too did the memories of half empty deceased amber brown eyes. Brown and pained, peering into his own, a dark reminder of what could be.
No, for now he had time. Those memories wouldn't happened for a long time. Nothing would stop Harry from preventing that night from repeating. Harry shut his eyes violently, unaware of the scene he was quietly producing within the compartment.
Harry shunned the memory, forcing himself to not act rashly, to no try and manipulate the fates of others. He would not become that man, the monster he so hated and despised. Vibrant purple robes and a stout noisy nosy mother, standing within a cluttered homey dining room. Plans to guide a young wizard towards his fate and her son. Plans to morph a young girl to potion him, to force him into following her. Blue eyes staring uncaringly, only excitedly at the notion of becoming famous with the so-called lad.
Harry didn't even try to view it on purpose. While he might not be able to read the mind of Albus Dumbledore without being caught, an eleven-year-old Ron Weasley's mind; Child's play and damning as hell.
Whatever hope Harry could have had regarding his forgotten and old friendship was gone when the boy muttered the words 'okay' to Dumbledore. Regardless of if the boy understood what he was doing or was a loyal ignorant puppy wielded by Dumbledore it didn't matter. His mind was open and was the key that locked any chance of redemption in Harry's kinship.
While Ron stared enviously at Harry's forehead, Hermione had been watching his eyes, Harry's eyes. While she did look at his scar at first, as much like Ron she was fascinated at meeting a famous individual her own age in person, but Harry's eyes quickly drew her attention faster then she could say why.
Hollow. His eyes where hollow. No light, hope, love, nothing. No, there was something there, hidden. Something deep and well masked. Hate, no it wasn't hatred. Hermione couldn't tell what it was. However, she knew it was not a happy or pleasant feeling. Not in any stretch or manner.
The rest of the trip remained dreadfully uncomfortable for the two as Harry shut them both out. It wasn't until about the half way point to Hogwarts – about 3 to 4 hours in – that Harry stood up having had enough of the situation. Hermione and Ron caught off guard by his sudden action watched curiously as Harry stuffed his things back into the trunk beside him.
Ron the entire time was a nonstop chatter box. Even as the two wanted nothing to do with him, the boy would not stop chatting. If it wasn't Quidditch, it was Chess. If it wasn't Chess, it was Quidditch. Hermione was to Harry's pride, doing her best to not swat the annoying red gnat, giving polite and curt answers that were both passive and reusable. However even after a thousand years of experience, experience filled with patience and waiting couldn't help Harry last one more second around the boy. His temper was boiling and his patience exhausted.
If Harry had to hear one more line about the Chudley Cannons from Ron as he talked away, Harry swore he would zap Ron off the train leaving not even ash for evidence. Hell, he'd probably grab the ginger and chuck him like the unsophisticated swine that he was.
Much more maturely and wisely Harry picked the other option. With his trunk opened and his things dropped inside Harry activated the stick and material bonding arrays on his trunk and plopped himself inside and down. With his decent inside Hermione and Ron watched dumbfounded as the lid swung itself shut with a simmering glow around the ridge between the lid and trunk. As the stared a metal rectangle nearly the fill length on the trunk appeared almost materializing from thin are at the point where lid and trunk met. The rectangle like piece split in tween and two eye-like structures turned pulling the pieces back together, clicking with an sharp ping when the two halves met.
When they met the irises of silver turned rapidly. Like silver dials they turned twice, first clockwise and then counter-clockwise before the pupil like portion snapping outward, protruding like nipples before sinking inward with an audible click. The gob smacked gazes of his audience Stared blankly at the trunk, waiting to see if something else would happen. When nothing happened or indicated further magic, the first of the two finally spoke.
"Bloody hell. Did you see that?" Ron shouted, not caring for volume or mannerisms.
Hermione for all she knew, was still new to the world of magic and had never heard of such a thing being possible. She was left captivated by what had happened before her, question popping like kernels in her mind. How did Harry fit inside? What was the magic he used? Was it enchanted? What was the light she saw when the lid closed?
Once again Harry Potter had caught her off guard and yet again, she couldn't help but want to know more. If there was one thing, she hated about the situation more so then not knowing what had just happened in front of her, it was that Harry had left her to sit with this rude, ill-mannered boy that was now trying to open up Harry's trunk.
She however, couldn't blame him. Somewhere deep inside she knew, Harry had reached his limit in regard to the boy. At least the red-haired boy was ignoring her and focusing on Harry or at least his trunk and while she wanted to chastise him for trying to invade someone else's property she saw it was a moot point as the boy clearly lacked the means to open the trunk which remained firmly shut.
For the remainder of the trip she simply read Hogwarts a History, her go to reading as she tried to calm herself while in the presence of the boy. She entertained leaving the carriage but at the same time wanted to stay, just in case Harry popped back out. She had so many questions and Harry was nice to her even as she bombarded him with said questions. Between the air of mystery and maturity, and his astonishing patience with her, well it was no wonder she was willing to wait for him to come out.
For now, she resigned herself to a bit of light reading before they reach the actual school. Much too her pleasure Ron had remained quiet. Clearly the boy was more interested in Harry then her which suited her just fine. Well it wasn't quiet per say, as the ruckus he made as he tried to get into Harry's trunk was quite loud, it was still quieter then before when he was talking. She really wanted to berate him for trying to break into someone else's stuff but thankfully she managed to keep herself quiet. Someone deep inside she did also want to see if the boy could open it but even she didn't realize that.
Before she could change her mind however she watched with intrigue as the longer he went at it the more his hair changed, growing longer and longer. It was at the point it started to turn gray. It wasn't until the boy's hair was well past his eyes that the boy took notice – a little too late in fact – that something was wrong.
Screaming out of the cabin Hermione held back her glee as the short 'old man' left their cabin with his hair now doing a remarkable impression of a Broadway display. With a swish of her wand she locked to cabin shut hoping to not have visitors again, even as the flashing and red and green shimmered down that cabin halls.
She tried to tell Harry the annoyance was gone but all she could think of doing was knocking and clearly, he couldn't tell the difference between her knocking and Ron's attempts at personal invasion. Quietly she went back to reading, feeling more vexed then she really should have. Harry was pleasant to be around and had only good words to say to her. She never had anyone like that say anything like he did and really mean it. That last thing she wanted was to give the impression she was invasive and rude like Ron Weasley.
So instead she sat quietly back in her comfort zone, her mind still amiss with thoughts of the black-haired boy. Even as she read, his words played back inside her head and that's what really got to her. Harry meant what he said. The worse part was that they were having fun and enjoying each other's company up until the boy arrived. And Hermione really wished the boy never came. For the first time another boy made her wish anther hadn't bothered them. She had never felt such desires before. Being a loner and outcast, she never had a friend to feel repulsed at another other than their behaviors.
Thinking back on it, Hermione wondered why Harry seemed to like her company. All she did was bombard him with questions and act snobbishly. Yet he happily answered each one as best he could and with a smile of amusement.
The punch line even was that he was the Harry Potter. She had read all about him and he was nothing like the stories said. Sure, he was confidence, capable, and powerful. But aside from capable he didn't really fit into those words, into the stories she read.
Capable maybe if what he displayed was anything to go by. Powerful? Harry was thin and if colored brown could literally be disguised as a twig. Confident, possibly. Certain most assuredly. He contradicted most of what she knew about him to be true. And that left her with an enigma. Sure, it was possible the stories weren't wrong, but it didn't seem to fit. If anything, the confidence or maturity he presented wasn't done justice in her opinion.
He was an enigma to her. So great of an enigma that Hermione didn't take notice that a blonde-haired boy with a sharp nose and arrogant frown pass by their cabin four times, searching for someone.
It was about three hours later that the whistle blew to announce their arrival to Hogsmeade station. Even as Hermione was left wondering where the time flew did, she found herself in a bit of a problem.
Unsure if Harry knew what time it was, she made to knock vigorously on Harry's trunk. Raping her knuckles twice on the lid, she watched in surprise as the lid's locks twisted violently and the lid popped open to revealing Harry.
"Harry! We're almost at the station you need to get into your –"
"Robes?" Harry finished with a shit-eating grin. Pulling himself out of the trunk Hermione was speechless. Fully robed and ready Harry closed the lid on his trunk and turned to Hermione.
"Shall we head off?" he asked. Hermione relaxed a bit at his smile. He seemed to be back to his normal self, all the frustration and hollowness gone from his eyes. Hermione nodded eagerly stunned helplessly in his gaze. Her mind was racing vigorously to solve her newest puzzle even as her emotions told her to simply shut up, nod, and walk with him as he dragged his trunk behind him.
Walking off the train the two were forced to meld into the crowd of students. Something that caused both to blush as Harry's arm was shoved into her nonexistent chest twice. Internally Hermione shoved it off as just being in a crowd, while Harry screamed in thanks that she was still twelve and not fifteen yet.
"First Years!" A gruff shout rang out above them.
Straining their necks over the crowd the two spotted the grounds keeper of Hogwarts. A sight that was surprising for Hermione and welcoming to Harry. The man might have his faults but to Harry Hagrid was special. Some might call Harry out, saying he was considering Hagrid simple idiot, but there was a calm tranquility to the mountainous man's mind. It was simple and cheerful. And while not the brightest lightbulb Harry had experienced, it was a dim light that was both warm and refreshing. With him Harry could be Harry and not have to worry about back stabbing plans or conniving plots. He was simply Hagrid.
"Hiya Hagrid." Harry shouted greeting the mand eagerly and warmly.
Hagrid looked down and practically beamed at the sight of Harry. "Well hello Harry. Glad to see you up 'n 'bout. How've ya been since Mungo's? Professor Mcgonagall said ye doing well."
"Can't complain," Harry said with a shrug of his shoulder unhindered by his trunk, "Hopefully the beds at Hogwarts are better." Even as they talked Harry felt a tug at his trunk with his magic and willingly let his trunk go. A second later it was gone, in the care and safety of the hidden residence of Hogwarts.
A bellowing chuckle floated out of Hagrid in grate spoonsfuls of mirth, roaring over the crowd. "No worries their 'Arry. No doubt, ya find it entertaining."
Turning serious again Hagrid nodded as he brought his attention back to the gathering crowd of students, "Right. Follow me you two." He said plainly before raising his lantern once more and shouting.
"Firs' Years, this way. Don' be shy Firs' Years, this way."
All of the first years had been gathered within ten minutes and made their way down to a great lake. For most they were unsure as to were they were going, following mindlessly with consideration. However, Harry was excited. He knew were they were and what their likely point of entry would be. This was likely to be something special and Harry was eating away at it with anticipation.
"So, are you really?" Hermione whispered drawing his attention towards her.
"Really what?" Harry asked.
"Harry Potter. I read all about you. You're talked about in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts. You're even in Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
Harry was in awe that he was in so many books though all things considered he shouldn't have been. Considering what he had read, the death of Voldemort was a big deal. Sure, he bought out what felt like half the books in Diagon Alley, but his focus was more on becoming a great wizard not a librarian. He wasn't really sure what exactly he had in his possession anymore. History books kind of fell to the side, replaced by spell books and potion texts. Since most of his history knowledge would really come into play twenty years from now, and the past couldn't be changed all that much, Harry had thought playing the muggle raised kid would allow him more time to read up on magic instead of history. What he did read only reinforced this decision seeing as there was no evidence to support some of the claims made and Harry had no time for false histories.
Harry's silence was somewhat unnerving, but Hermione soldiered on. "You're famous of course and are certain to be a great wizard. You're probably be sorted into Gryffindor, I hear it's great. Dumbledore was in Gryffindor too."
"Yeah he certainly was" Harry thought darkly.
"I mean I don't think being in Ravenclaw would be bad, but from what I heard..."
"You'll be fine wherever you're sorted. Just do one thing for me." Harry whispered back.
"What?" she asked curiously.
"Don't blindly trust those above you too much. Especially Dumbledore." Harry warned her.
Hagrid's booming voice interrupted them hindering Hermione from asking him what he meant. Before they had realized it the group had made it to the lake shore, were a series of boats greeted and waited for them eagerly.
"Into the boats all ya. No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid direct as he took to sitting in on of the boats himself. With his massive bulk there was only room for him and since they were magically charmed, he need only keep an eye out to make sure the students were all in the boats present.
Rushing forward Harry made for the furthest boat. Turning around he realized Hermione had followed after him. "Guess that's a good sign." He thought to himself. While he wanted to drag her with him, he wasn't going to force her to follow him. It was nice however to see she was interested in him enough to follow him to the distant boat.
Presenting her his hand he helped her into the boat and sat next to her, a sign that he wasn't running away from her. Her hand felt soft and warm in his. It was the first time in centuries since he held another's hand in his own and the first time another had accepted his own without pulling on it. It felt nice.
Harry sat quietly next to the girl unaware of what was happening. He sat there blushing next to Hermione who too was shedding crimson after realizing the polite and noble gesture he performed, her question forgotten to her in her unease. Neither noticed when Hagrid jab his own boat with his umbrella nor did either notice for some time that their boat and the two additional passengers were in motion on the lake surface.
"Ye' all get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called out as he guided the boats over the lake, leading them as the floated merrily. Turning around the corner, as a rock masa cleared away, the boats floated into the vast and open great lake. The sights directed Harry to look up his eyes welling up as he stared in awe at the nocturnal view of Hogwarts.
The Great castle stood upon the cliff face overlooking the Lake. Magic, fire, light illuminated and radiant the entire structure with a radiant power. The massive structure inspired awe and one could actually feel a warm and accepting sensation of the school's presence flowing through them. A sign of Hogwart's acceptance and welcoming hospitality, lost to all but a lone few. Harry being one of those few.
"I'm home." Harry thought his eyes moist with overwhelming joy. The sight of a fully formed and dominating castle brought no shortage of happiness to him. How many years did he live in those ruins. For half his life it felt like he owed his sanity and magic to each lump of stone that stood on that hill overlooking the lake. How often did the spirit of Hogwarts protect, aid, and serve him in his times of need during the war and after the fall. It stood proud, and injured mess, and still acted as the protector of magic. Even as he returned form the dark it welcomed him eagerly. Yes, Harry was truly home, for no other place was more home to him then here.
The gathering of first years stared in a mindless gaggle as the boats docked within a shallow cave underneath the castle. Pulling themselves out they followed Hagrid whispering amongst themselves as they made the rest of the journey. Their talk was all but the sight and wonder they had just seen. A rite of passage for all who enter as the ascended upward to the castle gates. At the main gate Hagrid raised his fist and knocked three times.
The Enormous gates of wood and iron opened wide to great the timid first years, it's welcome ruined only by the stern-faced professor that greeted them.
"Here ar' the Firs' Years Professor Mcgonagall." said Hagrid chipperly. Clearly proud of his task finishing without incident. Harry couldn't blame him, the right of passage was important, and Harry had to admit, Hagrid was the right man for the job. It would have been so mundane if someone like Mcgonagall did it. Instead of the shock and awe that the giant man brought it wouldn't have been as amazing if Mcgonagall performed it.
"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take it from here." She said curtly, the stern tone ringing like the stone of the walls.
With not but a glance her glare was all the instruction the students needed to know what to do. Following after her like mindless baby chicks the first years followed her as she guided them through the hall and up a marble staircase. The Stone braziers which stood along the walls illuminated the halls and cast a warmth on them as they passed.
Harry looked around and felt his heart weep in joy, sorry, and nostalgia. He had walked these very halls so often that they had become second nature to him. Every nook, every cranny, every secret within the castle was his to bare, both in comfort and in war. It was even better then he imagined it since it wasn't in ruins like he had known them to be. Each hall was made of proud solid stone, uniform and tidy.
However, as they walked something felt off to Harry. The warmth he recalled felt from those ancient ruins was sluggish, toned out. Like music crafted by one who couldn't hear, its touch felt muted, the magic that enveloped the devastated school muted and gone.
Even destroyed the school had sang with magic, its protections burning like a maddening passion. Yet as he walked it was gone. It was almost suffocating how empty the school felt. It wasn't destroyed or in ruins, yet its heart felt eerily gone.
As he pondered if something had changed or if the school was hesitant to accept him – it wasn't until Mcgonagall spoke up that he became aware that they had arrived.
"Now then," she spoke aloud, her tone crisp, firm and directly to all of them. "When you pass through these doors you will be sorted into your houses. These houses will be like your family. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. While in your house, your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking and you will lose points. At the end of the year the house with the most points will win the house cup. I hope to whatever house you are sorted into, that each of you will be an asset to the house that welcomes you." Her dialog was curt, frank and if Harry was honest demoralizing. It kind of took away the desire to win the cup if spoken aloud with air of triumph or wonder. It was like saying the national anthem without singing it. It didn't really ring with any sort of worth or pride.
Turning around and passing through the doors she spoke over her shoulder as emerald robes road behind her, "Wait here." Was all she said yet full of warning were her words as she left.
The silence that remained in her void was palatable. Harry couldn't help but join his fellow first years in feeling tense. Mcgonagall really knew how to leave an impression to be sure. Even he would had lived through war felt intimidated by the air she left behind which was darn impressive. Harry looked around and could tell not a single student had been left unintimated by her speech. One however seemed to have ignored the professor and was unaffected.
"So it's true then." the slimy voice spoke from beyond his pointed nose. Everyone turned their heads to see a snobbish and proud boy speaking in front of them, his body leaning lazily and arrogantly against a brazier. "Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts."
The first words to come to Harry's mind could be summarized as 'Bloody hell, again?'. First Ron and now another brat more arrogant than thou. At least he knew ahead of time that his legacy wasn't going to leave him alone, even if technically it wasn't his. Then again it kind was but still, the whole, Harry Potter's a thing, was getting old real quick and he had only encountered it twice so far.
Harry watched as everyone turned to each other muttering in awe and amazement as questions as to which one amongst them was the famous hero of the wizarding world. The blond greasy haired boy stepped forward and gazed at Harry, standing in front of him, drawing all eyes onto them.
"You'll find that some wizarding families are better than others." he sneered. Hold out his hand he smirked mentally mocking all those families he viewed as lesser then him. "I can help you there."
"You know my name, yet I haven't gotten yours." Harry said flatly. The name of Malfoy ringing in the boy's head dredging up a foul smell in his own mind. All the harm his decedent had done flash through Harry's mind. But so too like he did with Ron Harry culled his desire to stereotype rashly and play it safe. He would not trigger a response or burn bridges if he could avoid it. After all there was many things wrong with the world, and who was Harry to say that nothing could be changed for the better. After all, since when had mass murder ever done the world any service. No mass genocide was not a solution nor would it be Harry's.
The blond prick all the same eyed Harry with suspicion before finally conceding. "Draco." he said coldly, "Draco Malfoy."
"Dragon and bad faith." Harry said speaking aloud the translation of Draco's name. Harry kept up his poker face but allowed himself to revel in the look of irritation on Draco's face. Even if he wasn't going to burn bridges something about that look made Harry oh so pleased with himself. An odd notion considering.
Resisting the temptation to say anything more Harry called upon his skills in occlumency. Quelling his mind and shutting off all connections to the outside he resisted every instinct to pound reality into the arrogant git who was clearly playing with a deck lacking a few cards short of reality. Even without his mental talents Harry could read the boy as both prideful and arrogant, neither of which was earned.
The Draco before him was nothing like the Malfoy he knew. That man had a scarred past but was proud of who he was and just as capable if not cruel. He earned his respect, and many respected him for what he achieved and stood for, Harry included, even as he bludgeoned the mand into the ground. He embodied the purebloods ideology and even if Harry didn't agree with the man, Harry could respect that the man was a man of action in a time of war and hesitation. The boy in front of him could only be called the sum of the bad purebloods represented, hold not even a drop of wax that was the candle of his descendent.
Looking at the boy Harry kept his gaze inquisitive; making sure it looked like he was thinking. Stalling, that's what Harry was really after. All he had to do was stall long enough for –
The doors swung open and Mcgonagall stood before them. Harry let out a mental sigh, bullet dodged. He really didn't want to have to deal with this. A quick glare and motion for Draco to move routed him back in line with the rest of them.
– Mcgonagall's return. "Thanks a million Minnie," Harry whispered to himself.
"All of you, we are ready." Mcgonagall declared.
Two by two they followed the professor into the great hall and boy did it deserve a better description than that. Staring at the ceiling one couldn't quiet tell where the sky began, and the roof ended. Its majesty and mystic, enchanting and awe inspiring.
Enchanted just as it was before the star filled cloudy sky was cast up above their heads. A litany of candles floated about their heads, leaving not a single corner of the hall un-lit, its charmed wax un-afflicted by the flames above them. Harry listened in as Hermione told another student about the ceiling. He also noticed how she failed to mention the non-melting candle enchantments hanging by the thousands over their heads. Harry wondered why no one was asking about that, especially the muggleborns. Wax did melt naturally after all.
It would after all been very unpleasant for all of them without the enchantments. Hundreds of candles dripping wax over the great hall. Not fun although watching Draco, Dumbledore, and Ron suffer the burning wax might make it worthwhile, Harry quietly thought as he smirked to himself at his imagination. In all seriousness he wondered to himself were his loathing regarding those two stemmed from. He already had ample fire revolving around Dumbledore, yet Harry just couldn't stem the loathing his subconscious conjured around the other two.
Ignoring the singing hat that now sat on the stool in front of him, Harry decided to distract his thoughts of loathing with thoughts of all the places he would want to check out at the first chance he got. The school still felt off to him, so Harry diffidently wanted to check on its core at some point. As soon as possible really. If something happened to the heart of Hogwarts, then it couldn't really be called the safest place in Europe. Plus, it left him uncomfortable that something bad had happened to it, that left her in this stated of… emptiness. Now that he was back, he wouldn't stand for a Hogwarts that wasn't at her fullest.
The disaster that he vaguely recalled as the Battle for Hogwarts after the second wizarding war against Voldemort proved this fact. Or was it during? Regardless the school needed magic and the empty void would certainly not do.
After making sure the school's heart was 'alive' and well, Harry decided he would check on the come-and-go room. Afterwards he decided he'd re-enter the room and check out the Room of Hidden Things. First because it would be useful and the second to see if he could collect some items to fill up his trunk. The items within it had at some point been destroyed by what Harry suspected was fiendfire and what few items remained were priceless. Harry could only imagine what treasures he could salvage from the room where ownership was all but abandoned to its contents.
"Harry Potter"
Harry looked up at Mcgonagall who stood ready to put the Sorting Hat upon his head. Stepping up the few steps to the stool, Harry sat himself down and felt the hat slide upon his head.
Not caring where he really ended up Harry left the hat to do as it pleased. Glancing around at the students sitting down as discreetly as possible Harry looked for faces that seemed familiar. An act made easier by the brim of the hat covering most of his face.
It didn't take him long to spot several individuals that made is subconscious twinge. The first was a pair of red-heads, twins from the looks of it. Then there was a pink haired Hufflepuff who was staring intently at him. Next to her was a boy who looked to be a little younger then, somewhere between three or four years. Seeing him made Harry sad for some reason. His heart lurching upon the sight of the young man.
The Ravenclaw table felt empty for some reason, like someone was missing from it. Glancing at the Slytherin and Gryffindor's tables Harry felt a great deal of familiarity but aside from the twins none of them really stuck out to him. Well at least not to his memory anyway. Several individuals struck him in a multitude of ways. Some seemed like trouble while others friendly.
No longer looking for familiar faces or feelings Harry was free to notice the odd atmosphere enveloping the great hall. The hat firmly upon his head was surprisingly quiet. Mcgonagall impatiently tapped her finger. The whole of the hall was in joint whispers. Turning to look over his shoulder the whole of the teachers table where in joint discussions by means of heavy whispering.
Turning to Professor Mcgonagall Harry asked, "Isn't the hat supposed to do something to me or something?"
Mcgonagall nodded absentmindedly, too lost in thought to register his question. Focusing his thoughts outward Harry nearly jumped as the Hat sprang to life.
"Ha! That explains a lot. In my many years at Hogwarts never has a mind been so closed off that I can't reach into it. Now then Mr. Potter, lets finally get this started, shall we?" that hat said aloud springing to life quiet energetically.
Harry felt the hat dive into his mind. However interestingly enough Harry could feel that it was sweeping over him. That was interesting to Harry because it wasn't reading his memories and invading his past, instead it was like the hat was gazing over at him in a great ark, vague but encompassing. "Interesting, very interesting. This is our first meeting, your first sorting. And yet you know a great many things. Yes, many things but that is not who you are."
It dove deeper, deep into the recesses of Harry's mind flooding over his consciousness like a milky film or mist. "Hmmm, not a bad mind, oh a vast intellect indeed. A thirst, and determination to live your life to the fullest. Smart. Cunning. You've faced many questions in your life, trials, and yet you came out on top. Courageous as well as willful. And Loyal oh yes. You are loyal and motivated, obsessed some could say. Oh, Difficult, you are difficult. Where, were to put you?" the Had listed off and inquired.
Fifteen minutes past as the hat settled into shifting back and forth on Harry's head at time risking falling off his head. Mcgonagall concerned for what was taking so long looked to Albus for what to do.
Nodding towards the hat, Mcgonagall in turn looked at it and unsure of what to ask resolving to simple ask, "Well? Where shall we put Mr. Potter?"
The hat responded, but not directly at her. It spoke aloud as if to voice its troubles. "Difficult, very difficult." It said aloud for all those within the hall to hear. "Not a bad mind, no. Capable and willing to learn. Loyal. Oh, I've not seen loyalty so fierce that it could melt iron in a longtime. And brave. Willing to stand up against all adversity... And a thirst. A desire – to prove himself. Cunning when willing, intelligence beyond scope, bravery above his years, and loyal forged in cast iron."
Everyone listened intently, each wanting to know where the legendary Harry Potter would end up. A few listened in since this was the first time, they had heard the hat talk aside from shouting a house's name. None knew what to make of this. None had ever heard the hat voice openly the troubles it endured when sorting. History was in the making for the first time ever and it left all at the edge of their seats. Worse still it was Harry Potter. From the hats words everyone was on the edge of their seats as the hat seemed torn between with of the four houses to put Harry in.
"Well Harry, there is no one place I can put you." That hat whispered to him within his mind. "Dumbledore has at one point asked me to place you in Gryffindor however I leave the choice up to you." The hat conveyed to Harry, relinquishing the choice to him. "While I can't read your mind, your magic speaks loudly Harry. Your magic has experienced the sorting before. How this is I could not say. However, you have experienced trails before, this I can tell, and any house is worth of accepting you. Your goals are world changing and massive, you task daunting and danger ridden. Your need for knowledge and loyalty to those with you, all of these traits screams out in great volume of your character. Any house would serve you well, but most of all I sense a need for choice and to this I give over to you. You need only say it, the house that whispers in the back reaches of your mind. Sing it and I shall place you there."
Thinking for a moment Harry decided it didn't matter which house he was in. All of them had people he might like and many that he felt he wouldn't like. Hermione was the only one important to him, but he wasn't sure if that justified which house to be in. That and the fact that she didn't go before him only left him more undecided. However, that wasn't entirely true. Harry knew what the core of each of the houses truly were and which his currently life demanded he join. His actions, his needs, all of them, Harry knew but hesitated on his answer.
"Place me where Dumbledore will hate me being most." Harry replied letting his memories of the man reinforce his resolve. Oh yes, he knew were he was needed. And Harry knew it would be a struggle to be sure.
"Hmmmm, I suppose, no, ah, I see. I thank you for the semblance of it being my duty Mr. Potter. I can see you doing well. Yes, better be... SLYTHERIN!" the hat pronounced confidently is shout ringing bracingly in the air.
Cheers cried out from the Slytherin table as Harry got off the stool to join them. He didn't really care at first when he considered the hat's words within his mind, but he agreed all the same. Much of what he wanted in life fell in line with that house and Harry knew of the reputation Slytherin had. Oh, a basilisk among snakes, he would definitely have his work cut out for him. At the same time, he'd be right at home, behind enemy lines at the ready. However, the look on Dumbledore's face cemented his sorting. Oh, yes. Slytherin was a good choice.
"Harry Potter." The hat cried out from within Mcgonagall's grasp. Its outburst causing many of the students to quiet and turn in shock at the surprise outburst. Turning around Harry looked at the hat. "You'll do well in Slytherin. However, there are many mysteries around you, one of which calls out to me to respond. Reach deep within me an' claim what is rightfully yours."
Confused Harry returned to the hat as it commanded Mcgonagall to hand itself over to Harry. Fulfilling its request, she handed Harry the hat equally confused and perplexed herself. Between the hat stall, its outburst while sorting, and now, she was right out of her comfort zone. Her expression masking the sad look on her face at the lost prospect of Harry joining her house even as she hoped to have him under her wing.
Silently she watched as Harry flipped the hat upside-down and put his hand inside, reached into the void beneath.
At first nothing happened but then as his elbow started to enter it Harry felt something metallic brush his knuckles and with a firm hand grasped the object within. Pulling it out elicited shouts of dismay and mystification. Outcry burst most loudly from the confused Slytherin's and dumbstruck Gryffindor's. The Ravenclaw's were left perplexed and instantly fell into joint debate and theorizing as to how while the Hufflepuff's stared in awe. The Head Table was left dead in disbelief and confusion. Stunned into inaction at the sight before them.
In his hand was a silver sword bejeweled with many gems and a large egg sized ruby as its center piece on the hilt. The name Gryffindor was etched within the blade itself. The Sword of Gryffindor long lost now laid in Harry Potter's hand.
"As magic demanded I return what is rightfully yours. May this display also make your life easier within your new house. Also, your second right can be found in a place were lost things are found. The voice of this place can say no more." The hat said before settling down once more in waiting. Not sure what to do with the sword Harry returned it inside of the hat and let go of it. He'd have to make a place for it in his trunk later. Holding onto it here would only land it in another's hands. And so once more the Sword was returned to the bowls of the hat, were it would lay in wait for Harry's call.
Looking at the dumbstruck professors and receiving no direction to do anything else, Harry – with all the eyes of Hogwarts on him – went and sat back down at the Slytherin table.
Twenty-three minutes. A hat stall record for sure. His sorting had sparked a mutiny of discussions around him. Sticking to himself and his thoughts Harry contemplated his placement in Slytherin while trying his best not to think too much about all the attention he was going to receive.
Kind of like having buyer's remorse, he wondered if he should have pushed for Gryffindor or one of the other houses. Like the hat said he could enter any one of them if he wanted too. Looking up he watched Hermione proceed to be sorted. For whatever reason they just had to do the sorting in alphabetical order backwards. His choice would have been so much easier if it had been. Especially know that he knew he could have picked his damn house.
After about four minutes after running up to the stool and jamming the hat on her head eagerly the hat shouted, "Gryffindor!" A call that Harry noticed she seemed conflicted about.
Clapping along with the Gryffindors, Harry ignored the fact he was the only one clapping within his own house. He didn't care. He knew she'd do well in Gryffindor, both under Mcgonagall's tutelage and their protection. It was no Hufflepuff house, but chivalry was a good second to loyalty.
The feast that followed the sorting revealed several things to Harry. First, that he could feel the tension that existed within the house of Slytherin. Like a fish out of water the entire house could tell he was different and subtly showed it. Siting well outside arms reach, avoiding eye contact while gazing cautiously at him with suspicion and curiosity. It was clear that they were not used to entities that pushed their expectations and Harry had shattered them without even trying. Something he felt was funny since he looked forward to their responses when he tried actively to do so.
The second was the Professor in charge of Slytherin. Professor Snape. The man sparked feelings of great pride, loyalty, and respect. A lot of respect. And yet the main confused Harry as a result as he contrasted everything he felt. His looks, posture, glare, everything contrasted the man as the exact opposite. Broody, Dark, and Harry swore he could feel him trying to probe his mind several times only to be rebuffed. A suspicion on his part but it didn't lead to him feeling respect for the man, only suspicion.
Harry wasn't sure what to make of this but thought it better to focus on the more persistent git rambling beside him.
"It is only proper really." Draco stated between mouthfuls of biscuits. "Slytherin is after all the greatest of the houses. It is the purest house in all of this dump of a school."
Harry only nodded in agreement at that last statement. Unbeknownst to everyone there, Draco was right if under a misguided premise. He wasn't entirely wrong about magic and its connection with purity, if you could call it that. If anything, he was speaking out of his ass, glorifying the connection between magic and blood lineages, while ignoring the decline by excessive inbreeding within said lineages. And while Harry hand many suspicions that his views were accurate, the past simply lacked the evidence to prove his theories.
Likewise, Draco's comment on the school's purity wasn't wrong either. Though he himself likely didn't realize it. The school was lack luster to Harry's eye and touch. Filled to the brim with magic, yet it stale and untouched to it all. Rather than the magic present being a part of the school it was glorified lipstick on a majestic pig. Mind you Hogwarts was too wonderous to be any kind of pig to Harry. For all purposes the school was asleep and that confused Harry to no end seeing no clear answer as to why this could be. The longer he was inside the school the more he was sure something was terribly wrong with the school at its core.
"I still can't believe that they allowed someone like the Weasley's into the school. When my father hears about this" – six harry counted – "he'll have Dumbledore thrown to the rag." he declared to those around him.
Turning to Harry who was absentmindedly watching Hermione, Darco scoffed as he found Harry's target of attention. "Can you believe it. Letting someone like her in. It's repulsive." Draco declared.
"I say, once my father hears about this, he'll have them gone faster than they can realize what happened. It's a shame what has been done to this place with that foul of a headmaster at the helm."
Harry grumbled as he looked at Draco. "Mr Malfoy, as riveting as you might think your topics are, I fear your owl will be incapable of lifting up such a hefty letter." Harry said with no shortage of annoyance in his voice. "I'm sure if you managed to charm it properly, you're letter I fear would be so full of complaints that even with magic your owl wouldn't be able to fly with such a heavy burden."
His statement caused Draco to flush red and those who were still listening laughed most loudly at his expense.
"Watch it Potter. When my father hears about this" –seven... – "you'll rue the day you mocked me. You're just the boy who survived you due." Draco growled.
"And a trophy that shall forever be out of your reach, Malfoy." Harry countered in boredom, lazily fulling his cup with more pumpkin juice. A silent charm for poison detection cast upon it stealthily, "Clean," Harry muttered passively, "that's good at least", Harry thought as he drank its contents.
"Watch it Potter," A deep rage burning behind Draco's voice. "Or I'll show you what I meant when I said some wizarding families are better than others."
Harry just nodded in passing attention. "I'll take that under consideration as the Lord imperative to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Potter, Malfoy," he stated with a sneer," Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Malfoy."
To all listening the statement was a clear jab. A declaration that Malfoy was not Harry's equal. All remained silent at the blatant taunt within the table. Tensions where high within the silent eating's even as Harry continued.
"If I knew you represented said better's Malfoy than I would think that the hat was right," Harry said thinking of the Sword of Gryffindor he had just held. "I would have done better in Gryffindor if all of Slytherin is like you."
Harry watched Draco's eye brow twitch as Harry smirked. The look of the other students down the table felt torn between hating Harry and spelling Malfoy. They certainly did not like what Harry was say but at the same time they didn't want to passively accept Malfoy as their representative seeing as many thought of themselves as far superior. Harry whispered for only those near to hear, a means of persuading them to think otherwise. "Only whining little gits cry to daddy when something doesn't go the way they want it to. Certainly not cunning individuals."
Draco flew into a rage and was about to attack Harry but several Slytherin prefects intervened. Without even glancing at the commotion Harry continued eating. This wasn't so bad. Sending a glance up and down the table he smiled, A Basilisk among snakes. A traitor amongst traitors. So, what if he didn't fight to enter Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, or Hufflepuff. He was already one at heart. No, he signed up for Hogwarts, not Slytherin, and he would make the best of it. The school already had many to represent the core hearts of the other three houses. Now for the first time in years, Slytherin had its first to represent its values.
Even if that meant dragging his house through the gutter to where it truly belonged Harry would turn Slytherin back into the house it was supposed to be.
xXxXx
Yep that's right, congrats to these fine fellows for calling it.
wiccanjs1984
DragonGodSmith3000
These two are the lucky winners as of 1:58 am EST when I posted this. If you posted a guess after this time, I'll check your review stamp and will shoe horn you in with them when I wake up. Otherwise, nice guessing you two.
Now most of you weren't wrong. My reasoning is as such. Harry's goal is essential to live with the women he loves and to stop a war from beginning or at least change how it came to become a disaster. And while not many details regarding said war have been revealed (yet) Harry is essentially changing all of reality with his goals. If that's not ambitious I don't know what is. Plus, my own views on the four houses is a little bit different in contrast to what the cannon says they are which is kind of washy at best at times.
I mean, if Slytherin was the house of the cunning, how the hell did Malfoy get in. He's so Gryffindor it's ridiculous. (brash not bold, I'm not saying he should be in Gryffindor at all. The first movie showed all of us how brave the git is, spectacular acting Tom Felton you really brought the git to life for us)
No like most things in life, Slytherin house im my head has been warped by ideas over the ages, its true heart lost or forgotten to time. For the most part I agree with the hat's sorting, and nothing in the books (that I can remember) hinted at it being a pointless task. It even allowed Harry to choose which house he wanted to be when he didn't want Slytherin. That leads me to believe the founders truly cared about the opinions of their students. Why else give the hat the free will to let them decide if he is stuck on a decision.
So, with that, I leave you all with this question, what is the heart of Slytherin House. What concept or personality trait possesses all three of Cunning, Ambition, and Resourcefulness? What is the trait that almost every Slytherin (yes even in other fandoms) have in common? I'm my head I have a single word (two-word phrase) that they all have. Have fun with that. Those of you who've read Daphne fandoms should have an easier time with it since a lot of them brush up against this concept. Give me a shout out in the reviews what you think It could be. I love hearing them
And yes as a final note; At the end there, I did hint towards a connection between blood and magic, something I'm gonna have fun both fleshing out in story and pulling my hair out over trying to do right.
Next Chapter Harry explores and tackles the source of his unease. The M rating really comes into play too, much to Harry's annoyance and amusement.