I am so, so sorry for the long wait! I hope that this chapter makes up for it! I just thought that quality work would be much better than rushed and garbage work. I hope you forgive me! Anyways, I hope it meets your standards and thank you all who have reviewed!
Oh wait, oh wait, I am so so sorry. I made a few mistakes in this chapter and am reposting it again. Originally, I forgot about the entire time-frame thing because I had 'Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone' book propped up next to me to guide me along the writing for this chapter. I can't quite remember the lake scene that well so I needed it as a guideline. After I remembered that Harry's supposed to be a year younger, I changed a few parts, but it seems that I forgot a one thing! Sorry and thank you 'Reader AZ' for pointing all the mistakes out. And yes, I agree, Lockhart is much too vain to wear a turban. Though that would be an interesting sight. I can already imagine the scene!
Now, on with the story!
Killua Zoldyck hated many things. And one of the top ten his most hated list would be someone intruding into his mind. This was exactly what this so called 'Sorting Hat' was going to do.
Perhaps let me give you a recount on what happened up to this point. The train ride to Hogwarts remained rather peaceful, after the little 'fight' between Malfoy and Potter. Ron had left to go sit with his other friends and Neville fell into a deep sleep halfway there, leaving Killua to his textbooks and magic practicing.
Once the train arrived, there was quite a bit of jostling and a great deal of noise as students made their way off the train. Killua was a little disoriented at first, unused to the crowd. Neville saw him looking around in confusion and pointed him to someone far in the crowd, saying to follow the person. Being who he was, Killua could see the basic outline of the man and to say he was shocked was an understatement.
The man was like a giant. Well, Killua corrected himself, more like a half-giant. As Killua drew closer, he could make out a shaggy beard and roughed up hair. He heard him yell "First years over here! Over here now!" in a heavily accented tone. Once Killua reached the man, he could see him clearly in the darkness of the night. Being an assassin, Killua was used to seeing things in the night, as dusk was the favourite time for those of the international underworld to come out and hunt their targets.
Following the crowd of first-years, Killua was led through a steep, narrow path. The path seemed to go on forever before the man stopped short, causing several First years to bump into him. There was a great chorus of 'Ooooooh' as the first-years surveyed the sight before them. Killua let his eyes widen as he blinked at the scene. They were just in front of a great, black lake, with a fleet of boats at the side. But what was more impressive was not the vastness of the lake, but the majestic building in the middle of it.
Hogwarts Castle was indeed spectacular, especially in the serenity of the night. Its hallways and windows were illuminated with a warm, orange flame, making the castle sparkle and glimmer in the darkness, reflecting a beautiful image off the surface of the water giving it a welcoming feel. Killua blinked slowly, entranced by the sight before him. Though the castle was large, he knew that his family mansion was a slight bit bigger, but there was something about this place that gave him a warm feel, so much unlike home. Although he knew that he was always loved at home, Killua thought that the so called 'home' he had lived in was cold and unfriendly, so much unlike the inviting and amiable presence of Hogwarts Castle.
Unknowingly, Killua followed the rest of his year mates to the small fleet of ships next to the shore of the lake, his blue eyes still fixed on the castle. The boats took them across the lake to the castle. They were led into a dark, underground harbour underneath the castle. As everyone clambered out onto rocks and pebbles, the huge man led them up a flight of stone steps and everyone crowded around a huge, oak door that was at the top of the stairs.
"Everyone here?" the man bellowed. He then raised a gigantic and knocked three times on the castle door. The door immediately swung open, revealing a tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes.
"These are the first-years, Professor McGonagall," the man said respectfully to the woman.
"Thank you Hagrid. I will take them from here," the witch, Professor McGonagall, said, turning on her heels and walking away, leaving the first-years to scramble after her. Killua took a long and scrutinised look at his surroundings. The tall stone walls were lit with flaming torches, like in the medieval times. The ceiling of the Entrance Hall was too high to make out and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors of the castle.
The professor led them to a small, empty chamber. As they passed the doors to what Killua assumed was the Great Hall, he could hear the voices of hundreds of students there. As everyone piled into the small room, they stood closely together, looking about in tensed apprehension.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."
For some reason, Killua had a feeling that the professor had that this speech memorised and was saying it for the thousandth time. Maybe it was because of that monotonous tone of her voice? Or the way the words seem to roll off her tongue so easily? Whatever it was, Killua had a feeling that this was a teacher not to be underestimated.
"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."
With that the teacher left the room, leaving the eleven-year-olds to try and straighten their robes and check their appearance. Killua sighed. He wasn't exactly very comfortable in his Hogwarts uniform. He was wearing his long-sleeved sports shirt and pants under the long robes but he felt awkward wearing the robe. How did wizards survive attacks from each other dressed like this? Killua wrinkled his nose in distaste.
He blinked as he noticed Professor McGonagall enter the room quietly. All noise and hushed chatter died down and the first-years turned to face the professor. "Now form a line," she told the students quietly, "and follow me."
Lining up, the first-years were led through the huge double doors to the Great Hall. Killua's sharp eyes scanned the hall and automatically found any other exits and his brain was already calculating on how to make a quick and unnoticeable escape if the need be. After a few seconds of scanning did Killua finally allow himself to be taken aback by the grandiose and splendour of the Great Hall. There were four long tables and thousands of candles hung in the air above them. At the top of the Hall was a long table on it – the teacher's table. Right n the middle of the table sat an aging wizard with half-moon glasses. Right away, Killua could feel a powerful aura being emitted from the man and he had no doubt the man was the Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore. He glanced at the ceiling and blinked in wonder. Instead of a normal ceiling, Killua saw a black velvety ceiling dotted with numerous tiny stars. He remembered reading about it from a book – Hogwarts: A History – that mentioned that the ceiling was bewitched to look like the sky outside.
Then, Killua focused his gaze on Professor McGonagall as she silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. Placing a frayed and patched pointed wizard's hat on it, she stood off a little to the side of the stool.
The occupants of the Great Hall immediately feel silent as they stared at the old hat. For a few seconds, there was complete silence. Then the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth — and the hat 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!"
The Hall broke out into thunderous applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and became quite still again. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said.
And that began the Sorting. Killua sighed, feeling a little irked. He had been taught to never let someone penetrate his mental defences and had just been told that a hat was going to be doing it. And, to add to his chagrin, he would be one of the last ones to be sorted since his last name started with 'Z'. He could feel how the seventh-years feel. They had to endure this for seven years.
Soon, the Sorting came to an end.
"Zoldyck, Killua," Professor McGonagall called out as Killua, the last person to be sorted went up.
As he walked up to the stool, he could feel a hushed silence coming over to many of the sixth and seventh-year Muggleborns and Halfbloods. Evidently, they had heard of his name before as they stared at him with heavy suspicion and hostility. Killua mentally sighed as he took a seat on the stool and let the Sorting Hat be dropped onto his head.
"Well, what do we have here?" a small voice in Killua's head whispered. Without a doubt the voice was the Sorting Hat. "An assassin, huh? That's new. I've sorted prodigies, evil trying-to-take-over-world creeps and even some prince and princess, but an assassin? Can't say I have. There aren't so many young ones out there."
"Let's just get this over with," Killua mentally told the hat. "Just hurry up and sort me or I'll rip you to shreds."
"Let's see now…" the hat said, apparently ignoring his threat, "You have a certain sense of loyalty to those you care for… but not enough to put you into Hufflepuff. You don't mind having to work hard for what you want, but there really isn't anything you really desire is there? Now, you have plenty of courage, I see. You could make a good Gryffindor."
"Do that and I'll put you through the grinder."
"Ah, but you know better than most Gryffindors and would not charge in recklessly into danger. Probably, you'll fit into either Ravenclaw or Slytherin. You're a keen learner and are quick-witted. However, you're also quite cunning and always aiming for the top. And though however much you deny it, you're willing to sacrifice everything for the things you care about. So I think it better be…
"Slytherin!" The hat declared as the Hall burst out into tired applause. Only a few sixth and seventh years from the houses of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw clapped while the older Slytherin Muggleborns who've heard of the name 'Zoldyck' looked slightly apprehensive and perhaps a bit… relieved?
Killua slowly made his way over to the Slytherin house and seated himself between two fellow first-year Slytherins. A red-haired sixth-year prefect seated opposite him offered her hand. Killua took it and shook as the girl introduced herself as Perfect Gemma Farley.
"Welcome to Slytherin," she told him. "House of the great."
"Thank you," he replied politely. No point in making enemies here right? Close acquaintances are sure to be useful on day.
His attention switched over to the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, as the aging wizard stood up. At once, a hushed silence befell the Great Hall as the students gazed up at their headmaster respectfully. To Killua, the man looked rather senile at first glance, but being a master of aura-use himself, Killua could feel the tremendous power flowing over the Professor in the form of a gentle, flowing river. Then Killua knew for sure that Professor Dumbledore was a Nen user as well.
For some reason, Killua had expected the speech to be rather long and boring, despite never having been to school before and never having to endure painful principle's speeches, saying what they've told the students millions of times in different, beat-around-the-bush manners. Perhaps his mind had automatically related the word 'speeches' to the long and mouthy reports and meetings his parents had with rich men who wanted to get rid of someone?
"Welcome! Welcome to Hogwarts!" the old headmaster greeted the school. "Now, before we eat our fill, I just have a few words to say: Eye! Ekil! Etalocohc! Sgorf! Thank you."
As he sat down, Killua noticed many pairs of eyes staring at the wizard as the hall broke into spontaneous applause. Killua didn't blame them. The choice of words was a little weird. 'I like chocolate frogs'? Seriously? Killua's brain had automatically dissected the messaged down like how it was trained to do. 'Eye' could be interpreted as 'I' and 'Ekil', 'Etalocohc' and 'Sgorf' mean 'like', 'chocolate' and 'frogs' spelt backwards.
Well, Killua thought, at least he likes chocolates.
Killua paused his train of thought as he saw the food magically appear on the table. He couldn't help but gap at the sight. There was just so much food! Then again, it was to feed a whole table of hungry preteens and adolescents. Tentatively, Killua reached out and helped himself with the food. He had seen the butlers of the Zoldyck family serve this type of English food before, but he bothered to try it. Now the young Zoldyck understood why his relatives savoured the rare opportunity when their butlers prepared the English-styled meal for them.
As for Killua, he tried a little of everything, except for some weird food that he overheard was called 'mint humbug'. But his favourite part was the dessert. He may not look like it, but Killua had a real sweet tooth, well 'teeth' is more like it. He loved sugary stuff. As he ate, he listened to the conversations and chit-chat around him.
"I'm Styx, Styx Zabini," the black-haired boy seated on Killua's right introduced himself.
"Zabini?" The other sixth-year Slytherin prefect said. "Oh yes, you must be Blaise Zabini's younger brother."
"That's right," the boy said.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Robert Hawking," the prefect said.
"I'm Damian Ferra," the sandy-haired boy on Killua's left said.
Four pairs of eyes – belonging to the two perfects and the two first-years – immediately turned to Killua and he sighed. "Killua, Killua Zoldyck."
"Nice to meet you all," Gemma said.
"Is that old headmaster of ours really a nutcase?" Styx asked.
"Don't say that, kiddo," Robert replied. "I'll give it to you that he's smart, but the guy favours Gryffindors."
"But you didn't deny that he's a nutcase," Styx argued.
"Well, maybe he is," Robert said. "But don't say that in front of any other students from the other houses. They can't see how Professor Dumbledore really is."
"But why?" Damian pressed for answers. Killua couldn't help himself but get caught up in the conversation as well. He didn't like the headmaster. Killua got the feeling that the professor was too manipulative to be trusted.
"That's because they aren't Slytherins," Gemma explained. "And thank Merlin they aren't, but that means that they aren't as perceptive as us."
The talk soon turned to other things, like Quidditch, which two prefects were relieved to find that Styx was not at all like his older brother. He didn't find it disgusting that Killua was a Muggleborn and Damian was a Half-blood like how his brother would have felt. He had clearly been amused at the lack of knowledge of the popular wizard sport that both Killua and Damian displayed.
Damian's mother was a witch but she had never liked Quidditch even when she was in school and had never discussed it with her son and husband, who Damian speculated would have gone nuts over Quidditch the moment his mother explained the game. Apparently, Damian's father was a sports fanatic.
By then, Killua was getting rather full and he lay down his fork and spoon and just listened contently to the chatter around him. While doing so, he looked at the teachers at the teacher's table, trying to figure out how they were like. Professor McGonagall was definitely strict. The short, dwarfish looking professor beside her looked nice but wise. The giant of a man, Hagrid, Killua's brain recalled Professor McGonagall call him, was the Gamekeeper, he heard someone say. Then there was that greasy-haired professor. He sort of reminded Killua of Illumi. Not in the greasy-haired way, of course, but in his sharp facial expression and eyes that screams a life full of pain, lies and secrecy. To any other person, it was impossible to tell what the professor was thinking, but Killua could read him like an open book.
As Killua looked at the professor next to the greasy-haired one, he thought, Uh oh, a fraud. Just. Great. The professor had locks of gold hair and glimmering teeth and was certainly a lady's charmer, but underneath all that, he was really nothing that special. If there was another thing Killua hated, it was frauds. And he was determined to expose the professor's secret to the entire school, in the most humiliating and embarrassing way possible.
Robert noticed Killua looking at the teacher and took it upon himself to introduce the professor's name to Killua. "That's Professor Lockhart, our newest Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
"Newest?" Killua questioned.
"Yes. Most people say the job's cursed. No teacher who taught that class taught it again the next year."
"Well then, I'll be glad that he won't be around next year," Killua replied cynically, to the many snorts and amusement of others.
Thank everyone for the answers to the question on which house Killua/Harry should wind up in! I appreciate it! Originally, I wanted to put Ravenclaw but Killua's too sharp and cunning to be one. I like Ravenclaw a lot, it's like one of my favourite houses, but Slytherin suited Killua much more. Besides, I always felt that the Slytherins are rather misunderstood. Not every Slytherin is bad, people!
Now, question of the chapter (I really like doing this, it helps me interact with the readers and reviewers, so I hope you'll cooperate!): Why do you think the sixth and seventh year muggleborn and Half-blood Slytherins look a bit happy that Killua was sorted into their house? (Hint: For all those with a Pottermore account, the answer is on the Slytherin House Welcome letter. If you're not in Slytherin or don't have Pottermore, then, search on Google!) The person/people with the right answer will have a chapter dedicated to them! This applies to all the questions on the following chapters.
Anyways, I hope this meets up to your standards!
And please review!
Latios963