i'm sorry. i am. i know it's not a lot, and i know it took so long...as a first time writer, i come across writer's block constantly. i sincerely apologize and will try to speed things up in teh future...meanwhile, read what little i have and review =p
Harry's eyes bulged. His jaw dropped. His legs shook. Harry closed his mouth and opened it again, seemingly about to speak; but no noise came out.
"Harry? Haaarrryyyy..." Ron looked at his friend quizzically, a questioning look in his eyes.
"H-Hogwarts!" A laugh was his response. "RON! You don't GET it!!! It's HOGWARTS!" A grin.
"Harry, I've seen the school before..." Harry was on the verge of losing control of his bladder. It truly was a magnificent school; the hours of the train ride had dulled the excitement, but nothing could stop the rush of blood to his head when he saw the castle. Around him, some students were staring in awe, their eyes as wide as Harry's, as they got off the train; some were laughing at their companions, as Ron had. The teachers, however, were unimpressed.
"Come along now!"
"You'll be late for the boats!"
"Come on, first years this way!"
"Arrange yourselves in groups of four please, no more!"
"No, no! You can't have groups of five."
"No magic until you've settled in!"
"Follow the prefects, don't falter, come on!" The bustle around Harry surprised him. He had grown up a relatively quiet lifestyle; Sirius settled for a more mellow method of parenting. The two boys followed the general flock of first years and teachers beckoning them; Harry couldn't stop swiveling his head. Of course, Ron was endlessly amused, a smile playing out on his face, at his friend's seemingly boundless excitability. As they trotted after the group, Ron heard a voice. Yes, Harry was too absorbed in his surroundings to notice, his eyes were glazed over as he day-dreamed about the upcoming times in Hogwarts.
"Ron! Harry! Wait up!" Ron turned around to see who it was and nearly tripped over a flushed Hermione. A smile appeared on her face.
"Thanks for waiting." She glanced behind herself to lock her eyes onto a panting Neville, whom had been following Hermione to the best of his ability. She nodded to herself.
"Guess we have our group of four!" Ron looked at her incredulously; he hadn't agreed to any nonsense such as that, and neither had Harry! Harry didn't care though – he had a dazed smile on his face.
"Er…Harry and I don't want to be with you two." Ron looked at Harry for help. No such luck. Hermione turned up her nose and Neville looked disappointed.
"Well, it doesn't matter. All the boats are filled so we have to be together." Ron sighed.
"Fine, then." Now, Harry WAS listening to what was going on, he just didn't care much for the drama. The lake was huge and he was feeling giddy in preparation for the daunting journey across it. As they reached the end of the path, he spotted a silver blonde head. The boy from earlier. Harry's breath caught in his chest and he felt something tug on his memory. Ron noticed Harry's sudden halt in movement and followed his gaze. Ron pouted. He knew that the situation would be difficult to deal with – but this? Harry was seeing him every ten minutes.
"Harry! Come ON! Get on the boat, I don't want to be late to the food…I'm hungry." Harry tugged himself away and nodded vigorously.
"Alright, let's go." The four acquaintances tenderly got onto the boat, which, curiously, did not rock. The boat ride passed rather uneventfully. Harry was quiet – thinking of the event on the train; Ron was a little annoyed at having to ride with these two other people; Hermione was reading a book; Neville was reading over Hermione's shoulder, face contorted in a confused manner.
On another boat, Draco sat pensively with Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle. He was thoughtfully chewing on his nails while watching Crabbe and Goyle wrestle for a piece of chocolate. Pansy merely giggled every so often at the boy's antics. The boat glided through the lake, each student in the boat covered with the reflection of moonlight.
The silver gray eyes narrowed as troubling thoughts passed through him; ones that could not be revealed, in fear of retaliation from peers or his family. Why was Harry pretending to not know who he was? "You're right Ron, let's go." Why was he being so cold towards him? Surely Harry did not blame him for being pulled away in the pinnacle of his childhood. He scoffed. Second thoughts about his father mired his brain - he did not know who to trust anymore. With a nod to himself, Draco decided to put the matter at rest until after the sorting had been completed; after all, it would be quite interesting to see where Harry was sorted...
There was quite the welcome awaiting the first year students as they entered the dining hall. It was spectacular. Nearly every student stopped dead in the tracks, some with their eyes glued to the ever changing ceiling, others with their gaze set on the floating lights, and others, still, with their looks trained on the enormous tables. A powerful, wizened voice rang through the hall.
"Sit, sit! I insist the utmost comfort before we begin the ceremony." The students wordlessly found seats, their footsteps and heightened breathing echoing through the grand room. A woman's aged voice shepherded them:
"Don't sit too far back now, come to the front where we can see you properly." Several reluctant students pulled themselves from the back of the tables as they shuffled to the front. The headmaster merely smiled merrily throughout the ordeal.
"Welcome to Hogwarts, students. You will be spending the next with us, and I do hope it shall be a good stay. In a few moments, you will all be sorted into your respective houses, and I will read this speech I spent many hours preparing." He winked.
"Let us begin." With that, a huffy gnome pulled out a scroll as tall as he was, and began reading off names.
"Hannah!" An awkward looking girl strode purposefully to the stool.
"Seamus!" A freckled boy stumbled up to his awaiting seat, and took the hat with eager eyes.
"Dean!" A bigger boy walked heavily to the throne, and sat, shaking a little.
And eventually…
"Harry Potter." Mutters spread across the room, and a couple of gasps. Harry swallowed; but his throat stayed dry, no matter what he did. Squaring his shoulders, he walked cautiously up to the lone stool; Dumbeldore nodded at his relatively confident gait. Harry lowered himself onto the stool, a drop of sweat slid down his nose as he sat.
Across the room, Draco stared at his ex-best friend. He was holding his breath, anxiously awaiting the hat to be lowered onto Harry and his house to be called. If Harry was Slytherin, and Draco would surely be a Slytherin, then he would be able to begin puzzling out the mystery. The hat lowered, and he saw Harry clutch his eyes shut and begin muttering something. This was the first time the sorting hat had taken longer than a few seconds to decide one's house. Draco's eyelids fluttered nervously, and he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.
"Gryffindor!" Even from there, Draco could see Harry's sigh of relief, and felt a sudden rush of disgust for the Gryffindor's cheering loudly for him.
"Lilith!" A nasty looking girl coyly moved forward.
"Pansy!" An ordinary girl walked a slow but steady walk to her place.
"Draco Malfoy." He stood up and strode confidently to the stool, and placed himself squarely. The hat barely touched his head before it screamed,
"Slytherin!" He stood up, smirking, but faltered as he saw curious eyes following him back to his house's cheering table.. Draco's heart was heavy. He ached desperately to turn around and meet those glowing green eyes; he ached desperately to sit down with Harry like they used to, and talk about nothing important. He continued to walk back to his table, albeit a little more stiffly than before. He sat amidst the cheering, oblivious to those grinning at him and patting him on the back. They were annoying, he concluded. The "family friends" he had been introduced to did not tickle his fancy. He glared at one of the particularly fervent patters; and the prosecuted backed away immediately. It was comforting to know, at least, that his father's reputation preceded him. He snorted, and cocked his head as Dumbledore stood, preparing to speak.
"I hope," he began, "that you are all pleased with your sortings?" There was silence, and the headmaster smiled warmly; but his voice turned grave. "I must strongly forbid the third floor corridor to anyone who doesn't wish to die a painful death." Mutters, this time. Another smile, both broader and happier. "Let the feast begin!" With a wave of his hand, each forlorn plate filled with delicious food; the aroma of which would send any unwary folk into bliss.