AN: I got so many reviews asking for an update soon, that I decided to post Chapter 10 early as well. Thanks so much for all the reviews, they really motivate me to keep writing! Consider this a little present for those that took the time to do so :) After this, updates will once again become weekly, and they should become a bit longer as well as we get into the main meat of the story.
They were standing in the small chamber off the entrance hall, rather more closely together than strictly comfortable, listening to Professor McGonagall's Sorting speech.
"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school," concluded Professor McGonagall. "I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." To Harry's surprise, she then turned towards him and Dudley. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Dursley, wait for me outside the Great Hall after the Feast is finished. Don't look so glum, Mr. Dursley," she added as Dudley shrunk in on himself like a failed souffle, "You're not in any trouble."
This has to be something to do with the Dursleys and their police-assisted search, Harry thought. He hoped his aunt and uncle hadn't caused too many problems. Had Mr. Weasley been able to settle things through the ministry? Had the Dursleys started crowing about wizards and magic in the middle of King's Cross? He grimaced at the thought.
Harry's anxious thoughts were interrupted by the entrance of the resident Hogwarts ghosts. "Emily Fenwick says hi!" Harry blurted out as the Fat Friar glided by, remembering the conductor's request.
"Does she now?" said the Hufflepuff ghost, smiling down on Harry as the rest of the first-years looked on in muted terror. "Always liked that girl, good head on her shoulders. You lot are new students, I guess? About to be sorted?"
A couple of the first years nodded.
"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."
"Gran would disown me if I ended up in Hufflepuff," muttered Neville as the ghosts exited the chamber through the wall.
"Who cares what your Gran thinks?" said Harry, slightly annoyed. He wished Neville would buck up already and get on with becoming more independent. "So what if you end up in Hufflepuff? Are loyalty and being a hard worker such horrible traits to have? That doesn't sound that bad to me, really. I don't get why everyone thinks Hufflepuff is such a lame house to end up in."
"Quite right, Mr. Potter. All Houses have their strengths as well as failings, and none is better - or worse - than the others."
Professor McGonagall had returned, and after a quick look-over of the group, led the first-years out into the entrance hall. They trailed behind her like ducklings, across the hall and through the tall double doors that led into the Great Hall.
Gasps came from the line of new students as they made their entrance. Harry's heart warmed at the sight - blurred as it was through his lack of glasses - of the Great Hall, without any signs of battle, lit by thousands of candles that bathed it in a warm, golden light, added to by the reflection off the golden plates and goblets that decked the four House tables. The ceiling reflected the velvety black sky outside, dotted with stars, unobscured by a single cloud. Home again, thought Harry, as the Sorting Hat started its song. Soon he'd be sitting at the table with his fellow Gryffindors again, enjoying the excellent food the house-elves had prepared, celebrating his Sorting and laughing along with the Weasleys. He smiled, as "Boot, Terry" got Sorted into Ravenclaw.
Professor McGonagall moved down the list of students, past "Brown, Lavender" and "Cornfoot, Stephen" until they reached the Ds with "Davis, Tracey", who got sorted into Slytherin.
"Dursley, Dudley!" Professor McGonagall called out, and Dudley set off towards the Sorting Hat in a frightened sort of waddle. He sat down on the rickety stool, and Professor McGonagall placed the Hat on his round head.
The Sorting Hat was silent for quite some time. Harry couldn't blame it: he didn't have any idea what House Dudley embodied, either. He wasn't particularly smart, hadn't done a day's hard work in his life, hadn't shown any ambition past filling his large stomach and bullying smaller kids, and when confronted with scary situations usually shrieked like a girl and hid behind his mother's skirts.
The Hat finally opened the tear along its brim that functioned as its mouth, and shouted: "GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry blinked. Dudley a Gryffindor? Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't that. He clapped politely with the rest of the students, while his cousin trotted off to the Gryffindor table, seating himself next to Percy Weasley, who shook his hand.
Harry puzzled over his cousin's Sorting as the list moved further down the alphabet, finally torn from his musings at the sound of a familiar name.
"Granger, Hermione!"
Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly on her head. The hat was silent for a few moments, and then -
"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat.
Harry let out an astonished "Whu?", which made a few people look at him oddly.
"You didn't think that one would actually end up in Gryffindor, did you?" said Ron. "Ravenclaw if I ever saw one. She'll get on well with the rest of the know-it-alls, I've no doubt."
Harry's mind raced. Why had Hermione not been sorted into Gryffindor? Harry recalled her telling him that the Hat had thought of putting her in Ravenclaw, but decided on Gryffindor instead. Why had it Sorted differently this time? And if Hermione wasn't in Gryffindor, how was he going to make friends with her properly?
He truly began to panic when Neville, after a solid five-minute wait, got Sorted into "HUFFLEPUFF!". This couldn't be right! Neville belonged in Gryffindor, he was just as courageous as any of them! Everything was going completely wrong. How would he manage to stay friends with everyone if all of them ended up in different houses?
Malfoy at least got predictably sorted into "SLYTHERIN!", but Harry grew increasingly more agitated as the list went further down the alphabet. "Roper, Sophie" definitely hadn't been a Gryffindor the first time around, either. What was going on with the Sorting? Had something gone wrong with the Sorting Hat?
Harry stepped forward as he heard his own name being called out, whispers breaking out like little hissing fires all over the hall.
"Potter, did she say?"
"The Harry Potter?"
The Sorting Hat sank over his eyes, and Harry waited in the stuffy, slightly musty dark of its inside for the small voice in his ear.
"Hmm," said the Hat, "Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent - my goodness, yes."
Harry relaxed slightly, and thought: "I really want to go to Gryffindor." At least he'd be with Ron. He'd just have to find some way to make sure Hermione and Neville -
"Gryffindor? Oh dear Merlin, no no no. You're not one to storm off and save the world in a blaze of glory. Such plots, such plans... Your calculation would make old Salazar proud! Oh no, you clearly belong in - SLYTHERIN!"
Dead silence.
Harry sat on the stool, stunned, the Hat still over his eyes. "What? No!" he thought frantically. "I belong in Gryffindor! You can't -"
The Great Hall came back into blurry view as Professor McGonagall lifted the Sorting Hat off Harry's head. "Go on, Mr. Potter, off to your House table," she said, her face carefully blank.
Harry stood up, the Great Hall still shrouded in silence. Hundreds of faces tracked his movements, which was made even more unsettling by the fact that he couldn't distinguish their features. Was Ron in there somewhere, disgusted at having almost befriended a Slytherin?
As he set off towards the Slytherin table, shell-shocked, a slow clapping started somewhere at the High Table. He wondered if it was Dumbledore, or whether the man had been stunned into silence like the rest of the Great Hall.
Whoever it was, their clapping slowly got picked up by the rest of the Hall. As he drew nearer the Slytherin table, its occupants started cheering as well as clapping, the noise growing louder and louder as people stood up and started shouting: "We got Potter! Potter's ours!"
Hands reached out towards him as he came to a halt at the table, trying to get to sit him next to them, and he could hear a familiar voice yell: "Over here, Potter!"
He moved in the direction of Malfoy's voice, and was yanked down suddenly when the boy grabbed his arm and forced him in the seat next to him.
"I knew it! I just knew it!" Malfoy was shouting excitedly in his ear.
"That'll show the rest of them, they're always looking down their noses at us," an older voice yelled over the din. "Look who got Potter, though! See how they like that!"
"Did you see the look on Professor Snape's face?" a girl was laughing somewhere to his right. "He looked like he stole some candy right from underneath McGonagall's nose!"
"Her face when he started clapping!" someone else interjected. "I thought she'd turn him into a bat!"
People were shaking his hand and patting his back or any other part of him they could reach, and the din didn't die down until Professor Dumbledore himself got up and called for silence.
Harry sat through the rest of the Sorting in a disoriented haze. People were still congratulating him - and themselves, for having landed the Boy-Who-Lived - and didn't seem to notice that the newest Slytherin was rather quiet. Harry vaguely registered Ron being sorted into Gryffindor, and budged over when "Zabini, Blaise" slipped next to him on the bench.
He came to himself a little when the Feast appeared on the table. People kept heaping food on his plate, accompanied by cries of: "You really should taste this, Potter!" Harry, who had been deprived of any sort of proper food over the summer, felt his stomach growl despite his distress, and he tucked in with the rest of the Slytherins.
"Of course, the house-elves at Malfoy Manor are rather more culinary refined, but Hogwarts grub isn't bad either," said Malfoy to Harry, piling more roast potatoes on his plate and smothering them in thick gravy.
"What're house-elves?" said Harry, remembering that he was supposed to be ignorant of a lot of things in the wizarding world.
"Of course - your muggle relatives wouldn't even know what a house-elf looked like if one bit them on the nose," laughed Malfoy. "House-elves are closely related to Brownies, they do all the jobs around a wizard home, like cooking and cleaning. Of course, only the well-off families get them." He preened, and Harry had to stop himself from smirking.
"Were you really raised by Muggles?" said the dark-skinned boy next to him. Harry didn't remember ever exchanging more than a few words with Blaise Zabini. Had he been in Voldemort's camp? Harry didn't think he'd have been invited to the Slug Club if he was, seeing how afraid Slughorn had been of the Death Eaters. He nodded, and sympathetic noises rose from the rest of the Slytherins, who weren't even trying to hide the fact that they were listening in on the conversation.
"Don't you worry Potter, Slytherin House at least makes sure our members know their way around in the wizarding world," said one of the older girls who was sitting on the other side of the table, opposite him. "We've got orientation and etiquette evenings that'll bring you up to speed with even the most demanding Purebloods."
"What happened to your glasses, Harry?" said Malfoy, eager to bring the conversation back to the two of them.
"Oh - someone stepped on them when we got off the train," said Harry, pulling his broken glasses out of his pocket and putting them next to his plate.
There was a frantic scramble as the older Slytherins closest to him tried to get hold of his glasses all at once. The girl who had told Harry about the etiquette evenings emerged from the fight victoriously, mending the glasses with a quick "Reparo".
"These are so horribly out of date," she said, frowning at the frame. "They don't suit your face at all. Here -" She tapped the glasses and they changed shape, elongating and becoming rectangular rather than round. Another scuffle broke out as several people started arguing about the design, shape and colour of the glasses. When they were finally handed back to him, Harry's glasses had a slim-line, rectangular design, the frame Slytherin green with different shades of the colour shot through in a mother of pearl effect, and little silver snakes adorned the arms.
"Thanks!" Harry said to the Slytherin table at large, the world coming into focus once more as he put on his new glasses.
"Can't have you running around looking like a house-elf, Potter. You're a representative of our House now," said a bulky boy somewhere to his right, and several people nodded in agreement.
Dessert was served, and Harry busied himself with a large piece of chocolate cake, making sure his mouth was full whenever someone tried to talk to him. He still felt ill at ease, but so far it looked like the nest of vipers that was Slytherin was a great deal more companionable if you were one of the vipers.
With his glasses repaired, he now had a clear look at the High Table. Professor McGonagall and Dumbledore were deep in conversation. Harry had an inkling he knew what they were talking about. At least the Sorting had thrown a nice, big stick in Dumbledore's plans, he reflected sourly. Snape and Quirrel were talking as well. Harry looked a bit more closely, and decided they weren't really talking; Snape seemed to be interrogating the younger teacher. Had he been on to the man this early?
Harry didn't shout when a sharp, hot pain shot across his scar, but he did wince. He'd been expecting it as soon as he laid eyes on Quirrel, so he'd been prepared. Snape glanced at him, the expression on his face unreadable. Harry supposed that was better than the look of intense dislike he'd received last time.
After a while, the desserts disappeared from their plates, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.
"Ahem - now we are all fed and watered, I trust you will pay attention to a few start-of-term notices. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. We call it the Forbidden Forest for a reason, after all, which a few of our older students would do well to remember."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.
"No-one should have to be reminded that magic is not to be used between classes in the corridors, but Mr. Filch has requested I do so nonetheless. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch, with the exception of our first years."
Next to Harry, Draco Malfoy let out a longing sort of sound.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a gruesome death."
The Slytherin table broke out into whispers at that last statement.
"Is he serious?"
"What's up in that corridor then?"
"We have to have a look at it -"
Harry noticed that the teacher's smiles had become rather fixed, while Dumbledore prattled on about the school song. Maybe the support of the staff for this decision wasn't as unquestioning as Dumbledore would like to believe?
"Dumbledore's a dangerous nut, my father's always said so," said Malfoy to Harry, while around them students started bellowing the school song. "He's been trying to get him sacked as Headmaster for years - he's on the Board, you know - but Dumbledore's too well-connected for even Father to unseat."
"Why does your dad think Dumbledore's dangerous?" said Harry, privately thinking he'd short-changed Lucius Malfoy in the past. At least the man had had somesense.
Malfoy lowered his voice and leaned closer to Harry. "Father says we've allowed Dumbledore to become way too powerful. He's Supreme Mugwump of the ICW - International Confederation of Wizards - Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot - that's our court - and in charge of the education of every witch and wizard in Britain. People practically worship him. They said he was the saviour of the wizarding world after he defeated Grindelwald, but Father's always said that it's very strange how long it took Dumbledore to get off his -"
"You want to watch what you say about Dumbledore around here," interrupted one of the older Slytherins in a rough whisper. "This is his school, he's got ways to find out."
Malfoy threw Harry a knowing look, and got up with the rest of the Hall when the Feast ended.