Okay, so this is Hyaci.

This chapter is mainly the previous chapters, except from Harry's point of view. This particular one only covers two chapters, and the next on will cover the rest. You can skip over these chapters and still have a coherent understanding of what is going on, but these chapters are to allow you to view events from Harry's mindset, cover plot holes, etc. You will see these Harry chapters pop up every so often.

I did not make the quoted text bold in this chapter, since I made them bold in the others, so yeah.

I may have made Harry too observant and calculating. (compared to canon, anyway.) But here goes.

Chapter 7: Of Insecurities and Explanations

"Are you doing magic?"

Brown hair, bushy and far out of control had been tied back, so as not to spring over her face. She had unremarkable features- a plain girl, with buckteeth and a mouth that quivered slightly because she was excited. Her eyes were the only part of her that stood out- not because of shape or color, but because of the depth they possessed- unfathomably deep, unreadable. Definitely not the eyes of a simple eleven to twelve year old girl. Harry nodded, answering her question, and she broke into a happy smile.

"Let's see it then!"

Both Harry and the girl with the enigmatic eyes turned and stared expectantly at Ron- the slightly dirty, redheaded boy sitting across from him, wearing shabby secondhand robes and dangling an ancient rat before his hand-me-down wand. Ron gulped, and began the incantation, waving the wand in silly motions. After he had finished the lengthy and dubiously worded spell, both Harry and the girl leaned in to examine the rat to see if there were any changes.

There weren't.

"Are you sure it's a real spell?" The girl seemed to doubt it was, Harry noted.

"Course it is," Ron said, "Fred and George said it was."

"Well, it's not a very good one is it?" the girl asked with a smug smile on her face. "I've tried a few and they've all worked for me." She paused, before adding hesitantly, "I suppose I could teach them to you…"

Learn magic? Even if it was just a few simple spells from this girl, Harry couldn't help but feel slightly excited at the prospect. Nobody had ever taught him anything before- even with the chores, he was self taught- but here was a girl offering to assist him in mastering a few spells. Without questioning how she even knew these spells- he assumed that her parents were wizards, and taught them to her.

"I'm Hermione Granger by the way," she said cheerfully, offering him a toothy smile. Her buckteeth didn't ruin her bright smile, he noted. "What's your name?"

"Harry Potter."

Hermione's eyes widened expressively, although he still couldn't read anything from them. Those eyes were strange- they weren't like Ron's eyes that betrayed his simplicity, or Dudley's eyes that showed the world he was truly a pig through and through. Her eyes were like a locked window- both open and guarded. Harry could discern no more from them than she wanted him to.

"Are you really? I've read at least a dozen books about you."

Harry nodded. Only belatedly did he think to offer proof of his identity- which, by now he had gathered, would always need to be proven to others. He was famous- the boy who lived. In Diagon Alley, he had even seen a few other children cosplaying as him. It had been a strange experience- like looking in a mirror. The costumes were that realistic- although he supposed it could have been magic. Nevertheless, it unnerved him to see that he was such a well known personage.

So, to prove to this Hermione Granger that he was indeed who he claimed to be, he raised his bangs to show the scar that marred the forehead of his otherwise decent face.

"I suppose you don't need my help then, you probably know loads of magic." Her voice was bright and cheery, as she turned and began to slide out of her seat. Harry, without thinking, reached out and grabbed her arms.

"Well, even if you don't want to teach us, you could stay and talk…" He implored. Ron wasn't good company- all he could really talk about was himself and his family- really, there were too many Weasleys.

Hermione hesitated, before breaking into a slow smile, sliding back down into her seat.

The three sat in an awkward silence for a few moments, before Hermione broke the silence with a question she'd obviously been dying to ask.

"Do you know which houses you're going to be in?"

Harry merely shrugged, but Ron began to talk excessively: "Oh, I'm definitely going to be in Gryffindor. My entire family did, you know, my mother, my father, my cousins and brothers, my-"

"I'll probably just go wherever they sort me," Harry said, cutting him off. "As long as it's not Slytherin." Ron nodded in agreement. Hermione, however, frowned.

"What's wrong with Slytherin?" she asked, thoroughly puzzled.

Harry and Ron exchanged looks. "Well, you see-" Ron started.

"Hagrid told me that all dark wizards were in Slytherin," Harry finished, fondly remembering the conversation with the friendly, enormous man.

Hermione shook her head in amusement. "Not everyone in Slytherin is bad," she stated. "Or at least, it's highly unlikely. It's just that the qualities that House stands for fit into the equation for a dark arts practitioner- cunning and sly. I'm sure there are plenty of heroes that fit that description."

Ron raised an eyebrow. "I dunno. Never heard of a bloke from Slytherin that was a good guy."

"Merlin, Ron." Hermione shook her head. "Merlin was a Slytherin."

Harry raised an eyebrow at this revelation. No one had bothered to tell him that there could be good Slytherins as well as bad ones. Why had they kept this information hidden from him? He had many conjectures, but they all seemed implausible. Had they wanted to influence his opinion of the houses? Maybe stir up inter-house rivalries over misunderstandings over blurred, or completely smoothed over facts? Or maybe Hagrid just didn't know this piece of information, and thus, could not communicate it to him…

"Blimey, was he really? And I thought he liked muggles too…" Evidently, Ron hadn't.

"Ron," Hermione said bluntly, "He did."

"Oh."

Harry snickered, and handed him a chocolate frog card that featured Merlin. "Maybe you should read them instead of just collecting them?"

Ron's freckles vanished into his face as he reddened, and he began to mutter under his breath- which was really foul smelling. Harry could smell all the things he had been eating all the way over on his side of the compartment- Ron really needed to lay off on those Garlic flavored beans.

Suddenly, the compartment door opened again, and three heads snapped towards it. There, at the doorway, was a blonde boy with an entitled look about him, and an unpleasant sneer on his face. Harry recognized him as the snobby boy from Madame Malkin's. Two extraordinarily ugly troll-human hybrids stood behind him, both of them large and horrendously ugly, with severe under-bites and weak chins. It took Harry a moment to realize that they were in fact, just extraordinarily ugly people and not pitiable mutants.

"Is it true then?" the blonde boy addressed Harry, a little venom in his voice. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter was in this compartment. Is it you then?"

Harry gave a curt nod to the boy, feeling quite a bit affronted with the tone the other boy was using. No manners whatsoever- really quite snobby. He thought he was doing a good job of controlling his anger, until he saw Hermione watching him with a strange look on her face. He made a strangled noise as he attempted to better mask his dislike of the boy.

"Yes."

"My name's Malfoy. Draco Malfoy." A condescending tone, as if he expected all of them to recognize the name, to beg to be friends, to kiss his feet, worship the ground he walked on. Harry gritted his teeth so hard, he could almost feel the enamel wearing thin.

Hermione apparently recognized that name. "Very prestigious and famous pureblood family," she said, awe present in her voice. "The Malfoys are related to the Lestranges, the Blacks, the Greengrasses, and the Rosiers."

Malfoy whipped his head over to see who had spoken. He smirked approvingly, eyeing her up and down, from her head to her toe. "You did your research I see. Are you one of us?"

"One of us?"

"Purebloods."

"Yes," she said, confidently.

"Which family?"

"Dagworth-Granger," Hermione said, elaborating. "My great-unclefounded the Most Extraordinary Society of Potioneers."

Malfoy nodded approvingly, before eyeing the third member of the group. "No need to ask who you are," he sneered. "Weasleys. Red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford."

He turned back to face Harry, and held out his hand. "You might want to be choosier about who you hang out with, Potter. She," he gestured at Hermione, "Is okay, but Weasley is a blood-traitor. They're nearly as bad as mudbloods, in my opinion."

Harry willed his face to remain blank, although inside he was brewing over the information he'd just received. So Ron and his family, for all their bumbling kindness, were not well received in the wizarding world- among the elite, anyway. He thought for a moment, about which friend he should make- Malfoy, or Ron. Malfoy would undoubtedly be more useful, with his connections (something he'd heavily hinted at having, based on the way he told Harry to be choosy about friends,) but Ron, he liked better as a person (which was based purely on gut instinct, with his not having known Ron for much more than a few hours.)

Quickly, he banished all thoughts comparing and contrasting the two. There was nothing stopping him from befriending both. He noted that Hermione seemed to have no problem trying to do the same thing. There were a few holes in his plans, but he could patch them up when he got there. He stood up, and slowly grasped Malfoy's hand.

Ron was obviously a chameleon or some close relative- his red hair and face caused him to seem to be one and the same with his seat.

"I expect we'll be seeing more of each other," Malfoy smiled. "Good day, Potter, Granger."

And as quickly as he came, he left. The compartment door slid shut, and the trio sat in silence.

Then, Harry spoke up, just to placate the boy sitting across from him. "If it means anything, Ron, I'd rather hang out with you than Malfoy any day."

Ron visibly relaxed, and gave Harry a weak smile. "Thanks mate," he said, his voice shakier than it had been a few minutes ago.

The train ride only lasted about another five minutes after their encounter with Malfoy, and when it began to decelerate, Hermione excused herself from their presence to go gather up her material possessions. Before she left, she offered Harry a warm smile.

As soon as the train had ground to a complete stop, students immediately began crowding the hallways, all excited to have arrived at Hogwarts. Ron and Harry stuck together, both dragging their trunks out with grunts of pain at the weight.

As soon as they were out of the train however, Harry made sure to lose Ron. He couldn't have Ron bringing him down with his… what was it Malfoy called him again? Ah, yes, "blood traitor". He could not afford to allow Ron to ruin his social life with his "blood traitor" ways. No, it was best to separate, at least for now.

Harry pushed forward, towards the giant shape in the middle of the crowd, illuminated only by a lantern. It could only be Hagrid.

He felt something nudge him, and he turned around and saw Hermione. He smiled- Malfoy had said she was alright. Now, he was operating under the dangerous assumption that all purebloods saw things Malfoy's way. The public would accept her better than they did Ron

"I think we're supposed to follow Hagrid," Harry said, pointing.

Hagrid led the first years into a steep narrow path that went on for quite some time. Eventually, a dark, glistening lake came into view, and the students made it down to the shore, where dozens of boats had apparently beached themselves. Across the lake, there was a large castle perched on a cliff. As the students, one by one, noticed the castle, each let out a quiet murmur of excitement, which, collectively, made too much noise.

A sound of awe escaped from Harry's throat before he could stop it. In embarrassment, he looked around to see if anyone heard- and he saw Hermione looking at him, smiling her enigmatic smile as amusement danced in her eyes.

"That's Hogwarts?" He'd been caught- no use in pretending to be unaffected now.

"Didn't you read Hogwarts, A History?" Hermione asked, "They describe it in great detail, and even have one or two illustrations."

No, he hadn't read it, but now he made a note to do so. He glanced at Hermione, and began to make mental notes about what he knew of her. She was obviously very well read- what with the pureblood informational lecture she'd spouted on the train, the way she directed him to a book at his question. She seemed smart, as well as kind. A great friend. A useful friend.

A friend.

"No more'n four to a boat," Hagrid called out loudly, effectively ending their conversation.

Everyone again pressed forward, while Harry and Hermione stuck close. Somehow, they ended up in a boat with Ron (whom Harry made an effort to stay away from,) and a round faced boy named Neville, who was in tears. Apparently, he'd come to Hermione's compartment to ask for help searching for his toad, Trevor, although Harry had no idea if she had helped or not. She had been in their compartment for most of the ride, so he presumed she hadn't, but that didn't seem in character, based on what he knew of her so far- which, admittedly, wasn't much. Still, she had been kind to him.

"Forward!" Hagrid's voice rose above the students' conversations. Suddenly, as if at his command, all the boats departed from shore at once, gliding over the water, barely making a sound.

"Hey Harry," Hermione whispered, her voice almost lost in the crashing of the waves in the lake.

"Yes, Hermione?"

"Are we… friends?"

He was shocked. He'd been planning to befriend her- for her intelligence, if nothing else- but he was still amazed by how it had all quickly fallen into place, without his having to lift a finger. It was a little suspicious…

"Yes" he decided. "But do you really want to be my friend?"

"Of course Harry!" She sounded shocked that he would think anything else of her.

The boat ride continued in relative silence, occasionally broken by Hagrid's grunts, and students' "oohs" and "aahs". Once in a while, Harry had to duck his head at Hagrid's instructions in order to dodge an overhead arch or rock formation, but he was able to enjoy the boat ride nevertheless.

Once the boats had all docked (within a cavern, no less!), the students began to dismount onto crumbling marble steps. Hermione and Harry got out of the boat in quick succession of each other, while Ron was quite a bit slower, and Neville was still so upset about losing his toad that he hadn't noticed the boat stopped. In the end, Hagrid had to lift the tearful boy out of the boat himself.

"What's wrong with him?" Hermione whispered irritably, "It's just a toad."

Harry looked at her sharply. Perhaps his analysis of her character hadn't been accurate after all… or perhaps she was merely frustrated at Neville's continued antics… but he was inclined to agree.

Quickly, they ascended the steps, and they stopped when they arrived at a platform near the top. Hagrid made his way to the front, turned around and gave the crowd a quick scan. "Everyone here?" Without waiting for an answer, he spun around once more, and gave the huge oak front door three excessively loud knocks. The students began to murmur amongst themselves, and Hermione pointed out to Harry how Hagrid had damaged the door with his strength. The thin, spidery threads that had covered the door had evolved into large cracks.

And as soon as Hagrid's hand left the wood on the third knock, the heavy door swung open, pushing Hagrid to the sidelines. Illuminated in the light was a shriveled up, stern looking woman dressed in velvety green robes. Her stereotypical witch's hat sat crinkled upon her graying hair, which was pulled back into a bun. A strict expression was plastered onto her face, and she continuously wrung her hands.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall."

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

Professor McGonagall turned on her heel, and led them past a huge corridor- so spacious that Harry found it impossible to see what was at the sides of the room, could not make out any of the blurry shapes on the walls- maybe that was just his bad vision, however. He wound up and down small flights of stairs, until he reached a small room. All the students were ushered into the room, and were informed they were to stay there until the feast began.

They barely had time to rest for even a minute, before several transparent figures flew in through the wall. A quick count proved that there were twenty ghosts. Hermione smiled serenely at them, but the others gawked and pointed. Even Harry couldn't stifle a gasp (not that they were scary. Most definitely not- they were just… astonishing.) The eyes of the students followed the ghosts as they flew through a pair of double doors, which, as if sensing the ghosts' presences as a cue, opened slowly and utterly majestically.

The Great Hall was truly what it aspired to be- great. It was large and spacious, and the ceiling was inky and black, as was the sky outside. Harry found that he could not tear his eyes away as dark clouds rolled and rumbled across the majestic ceiling that had to be only a few hundred meters above him, but seemed to stretch on for kilometers.

Hermione noticed Harry staring at the ceiling, entranced by the apparent movement of the stars across the artificial night sky. She leaned in next to him, and whispered, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."

Harry nodded appreciatively, but kept staring at the ceiling as it flashed, like the real night sky outside did.

A loud scraping noise brought everyone's attention to the front. Professor McGonagall had dragged a small four legged stool out in front of the first years. Then, she pulled a worn looking wizard's hat from out of nowhere, and placed it directly on the stool. Harry couldn't help but wonder what was the purpose- the significance of this shabby looking hat.

Then, melismatic, commanding, with a full throaty tone, the hat burst loudly into a song. After it was over, Harry could remember every word of it- it had been that magical. So this was how they'd be sorted into their houses- a hat. Obviously it was a mind-reading, telepathic hat, but it was still just a shaped piece of fabric, and Harry heaved a sigh, relieved. This wasn't nearly as bad as what Ron had been theorizing they would have to undergo for sorting.

He was pulled back to earth and away from his thoughts once the hat fell silent, and an outrageous amount of applause rang through the hall. Harry's eyes, however, remained glued to the hat. What happened if he went up there, put on the hat, and it declared him unfit for any house? That he wasn't cunning, brave, intelligent, or loyal enough, and would simply have to be stripped of his powers and rendered a muggle, forced to live a mundane existence under the cupboard once more, forever to be merely a slave to his aunt and his uncle.

The sorting began right away, without any regard or assurance for Harry's fears, with the first girl being immediately declared a Hufflepuff. Harry watched nervously as one by one, the students were called up to the pointy old wizard hat and were each sent to the houses they fit best. Harry watched without taking in or comprehending anything, when a name, something familiar and recognizable jolted him out of his daze.

"Granger, Hermione."

Hermione held her head high in the air as she strode confidently over to the stool. She picked up the hat with her nimble fingers and gently placed it on her head, before sitting back onto the stool, her eyes shining wide with hope and fear.

A long silence ensued, during which Hermione's face turned and remained impassive, nearly plastic in its lack of expression. Slowly, her brow began to wrinkle, and Harry couldn't help but feel that she was obviously making some sort of conversation with the hat. Her lips twisted into an expression of discuss as she mouthed the word Gryffindor, and Harry knew at once that she was not going there. The silence remained for an agonizing minute before the hat opened its mouth-flap to declare the single word that would send her to one of the four tables that filled the hall-

"RAVENCLAW!"

She was beaming, her eyes sparkling with a vitality that had been stripped from her as she sat on the stool and returned to her after the sorting. Whereas previously Hermione merely strode pretentiously, she now seemed with a purpose as she put one foot before the other, in a haughty pattern, across the beautiful web work of tiles and stone that was the Great Hall's floor, all the way over to the one long table where those decked in blue and bronze sat cheerfully, clapping for the newest addition to their house.

One girl, Harry noticed, seemed particularly interested in striking up a conversation with Hermione. Harry narrowed his eyes, and reminded himself that people were free to have multiple friends, as he was aiming to. Just because Hermione might find better and newer friends didn't mean that she would abandon him- yes, that thought was ridiculous in and of itself. Hadn't she been the one to ask to be friends in the first place?

While Harry Potter would never admit to himself- and certainly never to others, he had abandonment issues. All his life, he was unwanted, his so called "family" distanced themselves from him, only speaking to him when they wanted him to provide menial labor. His school friends had all left him when Dudley intimidated them. It had all been one abandonment after another, which was why he doubted that a relationship could ever have longevity.

He brightened somewhat when Hermione waved the asian girl away, and turned back to look at him with a wobbly smile. Feeling particularly triumphant, he smiled back. Once he did, however, a strange look passed over her face, and he bit his lip, confused. He turned back to the front just in time to see Malfoy place the sorting hat on his head. Before even a second had passed, he had been sorted into Slytherin, something he was very pleased about, judging from the look on his face.

Harry watched as the students, one by one, each headed up to the front to sit on the stool and be judged by the worn looking hat. The crowd began to thin, as the tables began to fill up. Some of the tables looked so full that Harry thought they couldn't seat anymore- but somehow, they always managed to make room for a new arrival.

Harry was so lost in thought that he didn't even notice when his name was called.

Immediately, the entire hall fell silent, only interrupted occasionally by gasps and conspiratorial whispering. Harry turned and looked at Hermione one more time, his silently imploring her for reassurance. At once, her warm brown eyes filled with an unidentifiable, mystifying look, and she smiled a supportive smile. Slowly, he began to walk up to the front, to sit under the hat, to let it read his mind and choose where he belonged.

"Brave," a dramatic voice declared into his head. "Very, very brave, but also- the potential to be cunning and intelligent. Talent, yes goodness knows you have talent- not too much, though, certainly not as much as some of the other students I have sorted… but I digress. Yes, you have many traits, but the ones you don't develop, you will find they may simply… wither. Oh yes, you can lose traits- people change you know."

Patiently, Harry waited for the hat to chose, but he was deeply disturbed by the thoughts that the hat put into his head. His traits could simply die off? He could only cultivate one? He quickly began to think, which was the most useful trait?

"What a very Slytherin thought," the hat murmured, and before the words even registered in his mind, the hat yelled out, with roof raising power: "SLYTHERIN!"

Loud and thunderous applause ripped through the entire Slytherin table, whereas the other tables only produced some quiet, disappointing claps. Slowly, Harry slid off the stool, feeling weary, all of a sudden, as if he had just been through an arduous ordeal. And perhaps it had been exactly that. As Harry walked over to the Slytherin table, his eyes searched the crowd for Hermione. When their eyes met, he shot her a rueful smile, before making his way over and sitting down in an empty spot.

Next to him was Malfoy, who smirked. "Slytherin- I knew you would be one of us." He leaned in close to Harry, and whispered into his ear. "You have so much potential to be… the next great Dark Lord."

Harry looked at Malfoy, repulsed. The other boy only smiled a weak imitation, a mockery of Hermione's enigmatic grin, and Harry got the feeling he was being deliberately cryptic.

"Think about it."

Author's Note: So, how did you like this chapter? Should I continue doing these "Harry Chapters"? I'm only doing them to point out differences between the Harry in canon and the Harry in my story- changes brought about by events that transpired differently. If you think that these chapters detract from the story, then please let me know. Again, it isn't necessary to read these chapters, if you want to read from only Hermione's perspective.

Also, if you noticed, in Canon, Harry never really develops any traits that remotely recommend him to Slytherin- or any other house, for that matter. So I assume that the hat meant he had Slytherin potential.

Kay, now that you've read it, please review. Reviews give my ideas and inspiration, as well as helping me improve my underdeveloped writing skills. Love you all, and will try to respond to every review. I respond via PM, so check your inbox.

~Hyaci