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Harry Potter/Granger and the Philosopher's Stone

With the initial awkwardness of the compartment having gone, Harry, Hermione and Ron spent a very pleasant few hours idly chatting about nothing in particular as the train sped along towards Hogwarts. Ron told them a bit about his family, which proved rather interesting; his older brother Bill worked as a curse-breaker for Gringotts, the second-oldest brother, Charlie, worked with dragons in Romania, while his father was employed in the Ministry of Magic, working in the Misuse of Muggle Artefacts Office (Harry and Hermione both made a mental note to see about talking to Ron's father at some point; it might be interesting to see how the wizarding world regarded the world they'd grown up in).

There were only a few real disruptions to their routine over the course of the trip. The first instance was when the food trolley arrived; Ron tried to protest against Harry and Hermione buying him some sweets as well, but they had managed to convince him that he really didn't mind, and, eventually, he'd reluctantly agreed. Harry had quickly found himself eating away at the chocolate frogs, while Hermione, for some reason, gravitated to the Bertie Botts' Every Flavour Beans. Harry and Hermione found the Famous Witches and Wizards cards particularly amazing; the cards on Dumbledore and Merlin were especially interesting to the two of them, and Hermione made another mental note to do some research into who Grindlewald was.

Harry and Hermione had just convinced Ron to play a brief guessing game with them involving the Beans- who could guess correctly what flavour something was without eating it- when the compartment door opened and three boys entered.

Looking at them, Harry and Hermione were surprised to recognise the boy in the middle as the boy who they'd 'spoken' to while purchasing their robes in Madam Malkin's. The two boys on either side of him strongly reminded Harry of shaved gorillas, although, given the way they were standing on either side of the third boy, he supposed 'bodyguards' would be the more accurate term.

"Is it true?" the boy said, looking instantly at Harry as though Ron and Hermione were almost beneath his notice. "They're saying all over the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, isn't it?"

"Yes?" Harry said, looking at the boy with an expression that he hoped made it clear that he couldn't care less about who he was or how he'd become famous.

Evidently, the boy didn't care; he actually seemed to think that Harry was looking at the people over his shoulder, when Harry really couldn't have cared less who they were.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," the boy said carelessly, indicating the two boys respectively. "And my name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy."

Ron gave a slight cough that might have been hiding a snigger, and Hermione had to cover her mouth with her hand before anything more than a small gasp of air could escape her, and Malfoy looked at them both.

"Think my name's funny, do you?" he said, as he looked at Ron. "No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He glanced over at Hermione curiously. "I don't know who you are; who were your parents?"

"You wouldn't know them," Hermione said, looking back at him harshly. "They don't exactly move in what you would think of as normal society; they're Muggles."

Malfoy's eyes widened in surprise as he turned back to look at Harry.

"You were raised by muggles?" he asked, looking at Harry with an almost pitying expression on his face. "How did you manage to survive, living with such poor guardians?"

Harry's eyes narrowed as he stared at Malfoy.

I am really beginning to hate this guy… he thought to himself. Insulting muggles as a whole was bad enough, but if Malfoy started making harsh comments about the people who'd cared for him as though he were their own, Harry was really going to lose his temper…

"Very well, actually," Harry replied harshly as he stared back at Malfoy.

"Oh, how can you know that unless you have some decent company to compare it to?" Malfoy asked, apparently not concerned in the slightest about the angry expressions Ron and Hermione were now shooting in his direction. "You really shouldn't go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there."

He held out his hand to shake Harry's, and Harry could only hope that his expression made it clear that, in his opinion, the boy may as well have been offering him a piece of dog's mess.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks," he said coldly as he looked back at Malfoy; he'd always hated the concept of racists, even though he'd never actually met any back at school, but this guy was even worse than he'd ever imagined they could be.

Malfoy's expression didn't actually change, but his face did develop a slightly pink tinge as his eyes briefly flashed in anger.

"I'd be careful if I were you, Potter," he said slowly. "If you don't' act a bit more polite, you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them either-"

"And if you know what's good for you, you'll get out of this compartment while you're still able to keep your dignity intact," Hermione retorted angrily, as she stood up to look at Malfoy with a harsh gleam in her eyes. "Honestly, you couldn't have cared less about my brother in Madam Malkin's, but now you know his name and think that gives you the right to go through a complete U-turn in your attitude? Quite frankly, if you want to make friends with my brother just to hang on to his reputation because you haven't got one yourself, you should just get out of here right now, understand? He's not interested in his 'celebrity status', he couldn't care less about attention, and after the way you talked to us, you'd have better luck trying to move the planet to Jupiter; are we clear?"

Malfoy looked at Hermione in barely-contained rage.

"You've made yourself an enemy today, mudblood," he said harshly.

"You shut your mouth!" Ron yelled as he stood up and glared at Malfoy, joined quickly by Harry and Hermione; neither of them could be certain what this… berk had just called her, but they'd rather sort him out now than wait for him to come back later. Harry and Hermione were already going over a few of their favourite martial arts movies in their heads to try and figure out how to stop these idiots without resorting to magic (They'd rather not use magic for the first time in a fight) but, before anything could happen, footsteps came down the corridor and, suddenly, the oldest of Ron's three brothers (Percy, Harry and Hermione vaguely recalled) was standing at the door, looking at the six of them inquiringly.

"Is anything wrong?" he asked.

"No… they were just leaving," Harry said, stopping himself from saying they were about to attempt to knock some sense into these idiots; that wouldn't do him any good right now, especially given what Ron had told him and Hermione about Percy's obsession with keeping rules.

Glaring briefly at the three of them, Malfoy and his two cronies walked out of the compartment, apparently not even prepared to risk making an insulting gesture to the other three with Percy watching them like a hawk. The prefect glared after them for a few moments, and then sighed and walked out of the compartment, shutting the door behind him.

"You've met him before?" Ron asked, looking curiously at Harry and Hermione.

"Yes, we encountered him while purchasing our robes in Madam Malkins'," Hermione replied, rolling her eyes in exasperation as she looked out the nearby window. "He hasn't much since then, really; he was an annoying, arrogant idiot then, and he's an annoying, arrogant jerk now."

"I've heard of his family," Ron said, a dark expression clouding his face. "They were some of the first people to come back onto our side after You-Know-Who disappeared; said they'd been bewitched. Dad doesn't believe it; says Mr Malfoy wouldn't need an excuse to go over to the dark side."

Harry and Hermione just nodded ruefully at that, but already their feelings about Malfoy were degenerating into loathing. Not only was he an arrogant jerk, his father had been an evil wizard who tried to escape punishment by pretending he'd been under somebody else's control? As far as they were concerned, if a man wasn't prepared to accept the consequences for making a mistake, he shouldn't even get involved in the first place…

Glancing at her watch, Hermione sighed.

"We'd better get changed; I expect we'll be arriving soon," she said, standing up and grabbing her bag as she glanced over at Harry. "I'll just find a toilet and change there, OK? I'll join you in a minute or two."

"Right," Harry said, as he and Ron opened their trunks and pulled out their own uniforms, Hermione walking out of the compartment and heading down towards the end of the carriage.

Several minutes later, after a boat trip across the lake which allowed them a truly incredible view of the large castle that would be their home for most of the next few years, Harry and Hermione were standing in a large stone room outside the school's Great Hall, looking around at the other first-years as they tried to distract themselves from what they might have to do in a few moments. After arrival, they'd been taken up to a large door (Guided by Hagrid, much to Harry and Hermione's relief; the rest of the first years had briefly looked at the two of them in awe after they realised that two of their number knew the giant who'd met them), where a woman called Professor McGonagall had greeted them, spoken briefly about the four houses, and then left them to smarten themselves up for the Sorting Ceremony.

It was at moments like these that Harry realised just how different he was to his sister in some ways, even if they had so much in common normally. Hermione was rapidly running through all the spells she'd learned and was wondering which one she was going to need, while Harry was just trying to stay calm and figure out a way to deal with whatever might be involved in this 'ceremony'.

He noticed, much to his annoyance, that Malfoy seemed to be perfectly casual, but given what Ron had told them on the train he'd been expecting that Malfoy's family would want to give him an unfair advantage over the rest of the students. In any case, he seemed to be the only one even slightly relaxed; Ron was nervously rubbing at the dirt that had been on his nose throughout the trip as though trying to stop himself worrying too much, while a boy called Neville (Who Harry vaguely remembered had been looking for his toad earlier on the train) looked like he was going to have a panic attack at any moment.

Fortunately, the feared attack never took place; after a few moments of waiting, the doors opened and they finally entered the Great Hall. The four long tables were an incredible sight, of course, but it was the roof of the hall that really attracted the attention of the first years. Even after reading about it in Hogwarts: A History, Harry was awed and amazed at the vast ceiling above him, alit with stars and clouds. A part of him wondered if it would rain in here if it rained outside, but then Professor McGonagall came up to the front of the room, carrying a stool with an old and tattered pointy hat on it.

A small part of Harry recalled that his Aunt Petunia would have screamed at the thought of something so disgusting in Privet Drive, but the rest of him ignored it as Professor McGonagall set the stool down in front of the first years and then turned back to a long table at the end of the hall; presumably the staff table, Harry thought to himself, making a note to take a better look at the other teachers once he was sorted. He was just about to turn to Hermione and ask her what she thought they were meant to do with the newly arrived hat, when a large rip at the bottom of the hat opened up like a mouth and, much to the astonishment of much of the first years, it actually began to sing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

Harry and Hermione's eyes widened as they turned to look at each other.

"You mean… that's it?" Hermione hissed at Harry, barely able to contain her annoyance. "We get all worked up out here, and all we have to do is try on a hat?"

Harry had to admit, he wasn't exactly happy about nobody mentioning the hat himself. Still, it sounded like he and Hermione had been given a lot less to worry about than some people; Ron was fuming about his brother Fred claiming that they would have to wrestle a troll, and there were various other looks of indignation on other people's faces. Despite this, Professor McGonagall didn't seem to notice; she just pulled out a roll of parchment and looked sharply at the first years.

"When I call out your name, you will sit upon the stool and put on the Sorting Hat so that you may be sorted into your future house," she explained, before turning back to the sheet. "Abbott, Hannah!"

The process didn't seem to take long, Harry noted with relief; the girl who had been called simply walked up to the stool, put the hat on her head (It came down over her nose Harry noted with a slight smile before remembering it would probably be that big on him as well) and sat there for a few seconds before the Hat cried out, "HUFFLEPUFF!", and the girl ran off to the table on the right amid a torrent of clapping.

The rest of the Sortings passed in much the same manner, until, finally, it was Hermione's turn; as Harry had asked, he had kept his original surname after the adoption, although some of his teachers marked him down as 'Potter-Granger' as an acknowledgement to his guardians.

As Hermione sat on the stool, the sorting hat slid down over her eyes, and, much to her surprise, she heard a voice speaking in her ear.

"Interesting…" the voice said, sounding like it was the hat that was talking to her. "You have an ambition to prove yourself, yes, but you are certainly not interested in power… You're hardworking and intelligent, true, but you take time to become truly loyal to someone, and your intellect, while a dominant part of your personality, is equalled by your courage… So where shall you go? Ravenclaw or Gryffindor… Ravenclaw or Gryffindor…"

Then the hat shouted out to the hall, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Hermione smiled as she took the hat off and walked to the middle table. She briefly contemplated sitting beside Percy Weasley, at one of the few remaining empty seats, but decided against it; his strict attitude towards adhering to the rules failed to win him any points with her. In the end, she sat down at an empty corner of the table, opposite Percy but closer to Fred and George; they may be mischief-makers, according to Ron, but at least they seemed like they'd be more lively company.

Turning back to the Sorting, she watched, only half paying attention, as various other people were sorted into houses (A boy called Neville Longbottom took a remarkably long time to get sorted into Gryffindor, while Malfoy, she was relieved to note, got his wish and went into Slytherin; if she had to put up with him on a long-term basis, she'd probably have asked to be sorted into Ravenclaw instead)…

And, after a prolonged wait, it was finally the moment she'd been waiting for.

"Potter-Granger, Harry!"

As Harry walked up to the stool where the hat sat, waiting for him, he was privately relieved that McGonagall had chosen to include his 'unofficial' surname as well; he was still attracting a lot of attention, but mainly people just seemed confused about why he had 'Granger' on the end of his name.

"Potter, did she say?"

"What's with the Granger?"

"You're nearest; does he have the scar?"

Reaching the stool, Harry sat down, the hat was dropped on his head, and he found himself with a voice in his ear.

"Mmm…" the voice said thoughtfully. "Difficult. Very difficult. There's a great deal of talent, oh my goodness yes, and a nice thirst to prove yourself… courage is plentiful here, Mr Potter, and you're certainly intelligent and loyal… but ambition? Short on the mark here; you seem happy just to do something you enjoy, without worrying abut whether or not it shall make you truly powerful in the end… You're loyal, yes, but, like your sister, it takes you time to develop the kind of loyalty that would make Hufflepuff ideal… and while you're intelligent, your brain is far surpassed by your courage… Yes, the perfect choice for you is unquestionably… GRYFFINDOR!"

As cheers went up throughout the Great Hall, Harry smiled, removed the hat, and walked over to the table to sit beside Hermione; if nothing else came of him being in Gryffindor, he was still in classes with his sister.

The rest of the ceremony was relatively quiet; Ron, neither Harry or Hermione were surprised to see, was sorted into Gryffindor, and then there was only one boy left (Blaise Zabini, who went into Slytherin), before a tall, elderly man with a long white beard stood up at the table, instantly recognisable as Albus Dumbledore from the cards Harry and Hermione had acquired on the train.

"Welcome!" the man said, looking around the room. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin, I would just like to say a few words; Nitwit! Blubber! Oddmint! Tweak! Thank you; now tuck in!"

Harry and Hermione looked at each other incredulously for a moment, but then their attention was drawn to the food that had suddenly appeared on the table and they decided to focus more on that. As they piled food onto their plates, Harry glanced over at the staff table, and was surprised to see a tall man with greasy black hair glaring at him in an unnerving manner; Harry turned away from the gaze as fast as he could.

"Who's that?" he asked Fred (Although it could have been George), nudging him with an elbow and indicating the man in question.

"Oh, that's Snape; head of Slytherin house," Fred explained, looking apologetically down at Harry. "Sorry mate; seems to have decided he doesn't like you that much. You'll have a rough time in Potions."

Harry chuckled slightly at the thought of having trouble in his Potions class (After Hermione's constant quizzes, he'd be challenged to find something he couldn't do at the moment there) but he shook his head and turned his attention back to Fred.

"He teaches Potions?"

"Yeah, but it's well known he'd like the Defence Against the Dark Arts job," Fred explained, shrugging as he turned back to his food. "Anyway, hope you've got a while before you have to deal with him; he's stupidly unfair to everyone if they're not in Slytherin."

Recalling the look on the Potions Master's face, Harry had to admit, he hoped he did have a long time before Potions…