Disclaimer: Once I had a dream that I owned Harry Potter and that was pretty darn cool but then I woke up and it was all fake. Alas.
Ron was sorted into Gryfindor. He was surprised on one hand, on the other hand not. After all, all his siblings had been Gryfindors. Had he been placed anywhere else he would have felt defective, like he didn't belong. Well, more so like that. He sat between Fred and George.
"Tough luck" George was saying. "Hoped we'd get Potter in our house,"
"After all," Fred said. "Both his mum and dad were Gryfindors."
Ron shrugged and tried to get excited about the feast which had just appeared in front of him.
Harry was utterly miserable. Slytherin. How could this have happened? Draco Malfoy smirked from across the table at him.
"Now then, Potter," the boy drawled. "I don't suppose you'd want to retract your statement from earlier. About the wrong sort?"
Harry glared. "Fat chance, Malfoy," he said. He knew this probably wasn't the best idea. He was making enemies already, and within his own house. He thought Hogwarts would be better than living with the Dursleys, but Draco was a more capable foe than Dudley and his friends were larger, though just as dumb. It didn't help that Harry's scar was burning, a searing sensation numbing his thoughts.
"Ouch," he murmured raising his fingers to the scar.
"Ooh, Potter's heads hurting," Draco said. "Poor boy. We'd better go fetch his mummy,"
On either side of Draco Crabbe and Goyle sniggered.
As the feast ended the first years followed the prefects to their house dormitories. As Ron made his way up the stairs and to the portrait of the fat lady, Harry miserably sulked behind the crowd of Slytherins headed to the dungeons. Harry's heart sank. Never had he pined so for a miserable cupboard under the stairs.