Choice – Chapter 3: Hogwarts
"Ahhh...Sirius, get off me!" Harry called, desperate to break away from a bone-aching hug, "Honestly, you'd think I'm going into wild instead of a school!"
"Are you sure you'll be alright Harry? I'm so sorry that auror business came up..." Sirius was still watching him with worried eyes.
"I'll be fine; it's peace-time now. And who'd waste such efforts in harming a small nobody like me?"
"Besides, I'm going with him, Padfoot," Remus added smugly.
Sirius frowned, "Which is exactly the reason I'm more worried,"
Remus simply smirked, "If I remember correctly, the last time you went out with Harry..."
Harry rolled his eyes; honestly, how old were they? He cleared his throat, "Come on, Remus. We need to get going." With one last reassurance that they would stay in one piece throught the trip, Remus and Harry flooed away.
Harry blinked, it seemed just like yesterday when he first came to Sirius and Remus; now, three years had passed and he was standing on Platform 93/4 waving goodbyes to his guardian. He felt, well, empty. He had grown attached to his parents' best friends after all, although they never got to really understand him. No one ever understood him like Vol...No! he did not want to think of that man. Living with Sirius and Remus had further convinced him that Voldemort's methods were wrong, even if he hated to admit that he had let the Light influence him. He never heard from the Dark Lord again besides the present for his ninth birthday, and it left him half worried half relieved. Harry didn't want to have to face Voldemort so soon because their next meeting would definitely also be the time that he would have to choose. Damn that stupid Dark Lord; why couldn't he just brainwashed him when he was young? Being totally evil would at least spare him such agonizing internal turmoil...
"P-Pardon?" Harry was jerked out of his thoughts. He raised his head to find a bushy haired girl staring at him. Two adults, probably her parents, were standing behind her uncomfortably. Realization dawned on him, "First year?"
She nodded, "I saw your owl so I figured you're a wizard...well, I was wondering if you could show me how to get to the train?"
Harry nodded in understanding, "I'm a first year, too. And I would have never found out the way if my guardians weren't from Hogwarts themselves. Here, just walk through that barrier and you'll get the the train, you can run a little if you're nervous."
A while later found them seated comfortably in an empty compartment, chatting. The girl had told Harry that her name was Hermione Ganger, and immediately launched into talking about all the spell books she'd read so far. Harry smiled inwardly as he listened and occasionally commented; this had gone quite well as far as he was concerned. He hadn't had much experience dealing with people his own age (Voldemort, er, did not have a high tolerance for children; and while at Sirius', he had to pretend to be an abused, mentally unstable shy thing for a long time), and was worried that he might find making friends awkward. Hermione, on the other hand, seemed delighted that Harry had actually read the books, too. And they were midway in a discussion about Hogwarts' history when the compartment door slid open again.
A plump boy with light brown hair stuck in his head, "Sorry to interrupt...but have you all seen a toad?"
Harry and Hermione shook their heads in union; the boy sighed and was about to leave when Harry called, "Hey, why don't you stay here and chat for a while? I'm sure it'll show up when you least expect it. By the way, I'm Harry potter and this is Hermione Ganger."
The brown-haired boy smiled, "Harry Potter? I think I've heard of my gran mention you once...don't you live with that famous Auror Sirius Black? I'm Neville Longbottom, glad to meet you." He sat down beside Harry, grinning a little nervously.
Harry nodded in confirmation, "Well, Sirius is not really that good, you know."
"Not that good? He's legendary! I wish I could be like him...my parents were both Aurors, and gran really wants me to be a good one, too." Neville sighed. Harry sensed it was a sensitive subject for Neville. Hermione must did, too, for she spoke again in an effort to steer the conversation away from the topic, "Well, what house do you think you'd be in? I suppose Gryffindor must be very good, Dumbledore was in it after all... but I think I'm more likely to end up in Ravenclaw, which is nice, too."
Neville moved uncomfortably, "Well, I would love to be in Gryffindor; gran would be so proud...but I'll probably just end up in Hufflepuff anyway."
Hermione winced at the distress evident in the boy's voice, "You never know, um,Harry, how about you?"
Harry blinked, him? Three years ago he'd be sure to answer Slytherin; not to please Voldemort, but he knew his biggest desire then was to prove that he deserved to be treated as an equal. But now...he barely even think of his future anymore. Secretly he knew he was afraid to; he absorbed himself in books, occupied his mind with learning so that he would not have to think about the future, the choice he would have to make. He had been preparing himself all these years, yet for what he could not tell. So Hufflepuff was really a goner, since he himself didn't know where his loyalty lay; Gryffindor would be unlikely, too, despite what Sirius might hope. Ravenclaw would be all too suitable according to his outward appearance. Yet he knew his passion for books was only a mask, a guise of something else...which led him back to Slytherin. But no, Harry frowned, he must not end up in that house. Dumbledore would be sure to distrust him if he were to be a Slytherin (not that he trusted he much now, but at least Harry would not provide further suspicion; although he was unsure of his future path, instinct told him that either way he would need that old man's trust)...and, and he'll have to face the children of Death Eaters...
"Harry? Harry, are you alright?"
Harry looked up to find a very worried looking Hermione and Neville. Sighing, he realized he was breathing rather shallowly, and that his hands were covered with sweat. "Right, I'm fine," he muttered, "I just, thought of something...and you were saying?"
Hermione didn't look convinced, but she didn't press the matter, "We were asking you what house you think you'd be in, and you just sort of went rigid and all that."
Harry cringed inwardly but gave his friends a small smile, "I just got distracted, that's all. Er, right, the house thing...well, I really hope I'd end up in Ravenclaw. I'm fine really as long as I'm not in Slytherin, but I doubt the other two houses would suit me well."
His friends gave him knowing nods, and Neville said, "Yeah, I heard all Slytherins are evil." Harry almost snapped back at the comment, but decided not too. His heart suddenly felt more heavy, though, as he realized that he wouldn't be able to even keep the new-found friendships if he really ended up in Slytherin. "Well, I wouldn't be so sure...I mean, all the houses will have good or unpleasant people," he countered in what he hoped to be a neutral, mild tone.
Hermione shrugged, "I suppose so...but Harry, I wouldn't worry if I were you. You know the first year's books by heart! With your brain, where else would you be but Ravenclaw?"
Harry smiled weakly, and the three proceeded to eating the sweets they bought earlier. Hermione found wizarding candies delightful - that was, until she picked up a pepper-flavored Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans. The witch had gone very red in the face then and almost spat out the bean. They were still laughing and teasing when the train slowed down, and Harry's nervousness returned.
He suppose he almost dream-walked alone the way, and paid no attention to other's sorting at all, until a small outburst between a redhead and a pale blonde boy caught his attention - which he immediately regretting doing so. The blonde boy was almost a exact replica of Lucius Malfoy; Harry cursed as he felt himself go dizzy again. He must not be in Slytherin, already he could see the resemblance of many Death Eaters in the children around him. He exhaled slowly, trying to regain composure, when he realized Neville's name was being called. Harry was just in time to give him an encouraging nod, but the poor boy still managed to fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville and finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry clapped despite weird looks thrown his way; he was truly happy for Neville, as he and his family seemed to value that particular house highly. But all too soon he was consumed in his own worries again, and he later considered it miraculous that he actually heard his name being called.
Stepping forward, he had a glance of the Great Hall before the hat was set over his eyes. He saw that Hermione had been sorted to Ravenclaw and prayed even harder that he'd end up in that house, too. "H-hello?" he called tentatively to the darkness.
"Ah..." said a small voice in his ear, "A polite young man, eh? Let's see where shall I put you!
"Not Hufflepuff? You'd be surprised by your loyalty. But you're right, that house does not suit you. No Gryffindor, either; though you have plenty of courage. I see greatness in your path, and Slytherin will no doubt help you...yet you do have a great thirst for knowledge, and you are clever. Hmm, difficult, very difficult..."
"Please not Slytherin," Harry pleaded.
"Not Slytherin? But it will help you, as I see your pursuit for knowledge was merely a guise; you are afraid of your own ambition...Still no? Hmmm...well, if you are sure, better be RAVENCLAW!"
Harry took off the hat and gave out a long breath he was holding. Silence greeted him. The students stared at him for about thirty seconds, before the Ravenclaw table burst into polite applause.
Shakily, Harry took a seat besides Hermione, who was beaming widely at him. "I told you, Harry!"
"Yeah," Harry muttered, aware of some rather sullen glances other students shot his way,"Why were you guys all...silent and all that right after my sorting, though?"
"Dude...it took that bloody hat almost twenty minutes to decide! We weren't sure if it really was over at first," a sandy haired boy on his left answered. What was his name again? Now Harry wished he had paid more attention to the sorting. "Sorry...I felt it was rather long myself, but thought it must've been my imagination," Harry explained, guiltily; he was sure it wouldn't have taken that long if he'd let the hat have its way.
Soon the sorting ended and Dumbledore delivered a rather concise speech. The feast had begun. Harry quickly helped himself, the food almost rivaled that of Riddle Manor's. Even Hermione stopped talking about lessons. Terry Boot (Harry had finally got his name), the boy who spoke earlier, engaged Harry in a conversation about Quidditch. They were in a heated discussion about which was the best team when screams were heard around the table. Turning, Harry saw a ghost with blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silver blood sitting at his right side. Hermione, who was forced to move over, seemed unable to decide between protesting or screaming.
"The Bloody Baron!" some higher-year squeaked.
"What is he doing here? Isn't he a Slytherin ghost?"
Harry eyed the ghost warily, "Er, Harry Potter at your service?"
"Yes, Mr. Potter," the Baron nodded, "So you've finally arrived. It's been a long time since I've seen a kindred spirit such as you."
Harry could see his housemates throwing him curious glances, and bit his lips - so much for not rousing suspicion, "Sir, I don't mean to be rude...but, could we talk another time?"
He was almost expecting the ghost would protest, but the Baron merely eyed the surroundings and nodded in understanding, "Very well." He even sounded...impressed? Shrugging to his friends, Harry saw the ghost reappear at the Slytherin table. Distinctly, Harry had an idea of whom might have been the last "kindred spirit" the Baron referred to...Speaking of which - Harry had felt something, a warm nudge on his scar, ever since he stepped in the Great Hall. It was almost the same sensation when Voldie was well and around, though it was much fainter. But it was not possible...or was it?
Shaking himself free of his troubled thoughts, he casually looked up at the High Table, where the teachers were sitting. When a professor with a turban turned to talk to another with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin; Harry felt yet another wave of reassurance rushing through his scar. He was still pondering the whole unusualness of the situation when his eyes locked with those of the greasy-haired professor's briefly - the teacher did not seem pleased at all to see Harry.
Harry frowned, could that hateful stare really been directed at him? He remembered hearing Sirius warning him of a certain Potion Master who might gave him trouble at Hogwarts due to some age-old problems with his dad. The older man had called him a "greasy-haired git" then, so this must be that...what's his name...
Snape. Harry narrowed his eyes; he had dismissed the name then, but somehow it seemed to struck a chord somewhere. Death Eaters! Harry nearly jumped out of his seat; Snape was a Death Eater! Although, he was one of those who never came to "play" with Harry. Could he really be of the light then? After all, Dumbledore must know of his, er, interesting background. Yet Harry could swore he had seen his face before, not during meetings, as they wore their masks then, but...
Little Harry curled up in a corner after a particularly hard beating. Before leaving, the Death Eater had purposely upset the small bowl of dirty water. Harry knew he could not last that day then; hunger, thirst, and pain were overwhelming him. Just then, he thought he heard the door slid open, someone had entered - Harry tried to hide away in his panic; no, not more - a bowl of funny smelling liquid was placed before his mouth...a potion? - Harry had swallowed it down then, not caring if it were poisonous, glad to take anything in - a man was talking quietly; something about not being able to heal him outwardly and that rescue was coming...This must be a dream...Still, Harry struggled to open his eyes: cold black eyes with a slight gleam of concern greeted him...
Harry looked up at Snape again, had that pair of eyes full of hatred really been the same pair that gave Harry so much hope three years ago? His face was filled with determination; he would find out the answer, and he would let his gratitude known, family feud or not (besides, the reasons to hate Snape provided by Sirius sounded pretty stupid and childish anyway). Harry looked up at the Potion Master again and gave him a tiny smile, laughing inwardly as the other threw him a confused glance; oh Snape would not stay hating him for long.