What you need to know before reading: In this story, there is no inquisitorial squad and no article from Harry in the quibbler. This is a Drarry story, with some violent and explicit content
Also, English isn't my first language!

Harry was pushing his food around on his plate, his gaze lost in the crowd of noisy and enthusiastic students.

This same day at lunch, in the large chair in the middle of the high table, sat the respected headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, just like every breakfast since 1956. And even if the old man had been avoiding Harry like the plague since this summer, he had still made sure the school and its pupils were fully protected. But, only seven hours later and with the snap of a finger, Dolores Umbridge—the worst thing that could ever happen to Hogwarts after Voldemort—had savagely taken his position.

"Harry?"

Hermione's voice brought Harry back to reality, making him try to focus on the conversation.

"He's going to come back, I'm sure of it; he is just hiding to make a plan," Ron affirmed between bites of greasy sausages, which automatically disgusted his friends. Hermione pretended not to notice and looked at Harry.

"Ron is right, Harry, he's probably with the Order right now; it's just a matter of days, maybe weeks, but he will come back; he's Dumbledore."

Harry shrugged, visibly not convinced. His fifth year was already a nightmare. His nights were plagued by disturbing dreams; the press and most students called him a liar for having witnessed Cedric's death and his parents' murderer revival: He was angry, upset, and lonelier than ever.

Dumbledore's departure was the continuation of the hell he was living in, and he just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to rest and live a normal fifteen-year-old student's life like everyone else.

"Can we still continue the DA?" Neville asked, with genuine hope in his voice and his eyes.

"I'm not sure," Harry sighed.

"We could find a way; we're smart—at least smarter than this toad," Ginny spat next to Harry.

He briefly looked at her; she seemed confident—way more confident than himself. He couldn't imagine how they could keep going in this situation, without the room of requirements and with Umbridge watching their every move.

"I'll think about it," said Hermione. "Let's just take a small break for now, until she forgets us a little bit."

But she would never leave them alone; Harry was certain of that. He bit into a potato, but it tasted cold and flabby from waiting on his plate all dinner.

"I'm going to bed," he growled, dropping his fork loudly on the table.

"Wait what?"

He nonchalantly stood up, ignoring the stares everyone was giving him.

"Harry, please stay," Hermione asked,

"Umbridge told us to be here for dinner," Neville added.

Harry's brows went up; did Neville really think it would make him stay?

"I don't really care about Umbridge, Neville," he chuckled,

"Wait, we can just eat dessert and go back to the common room! Come on, mate, you barely ate," Ron offered as his friend was already stepping over the bench.

"No, I'm fine, Ron, I think I just want to go to bed now."

"Hum Hum!"

Harry suddenly stopped in his tracks when the high-pitched, infuriating voice of Umbridge echoed through the great hall. He slowly turned around to see her standing in front of the teachers, facing the four lines of long tables.

"I hope you had a delicious and satiating dinner, my dears." "It is very important for young children like yourselves to eat well and grow stronger."

She stared at Harry, who was the only one standing up in the hall beside herself. He felt Ginny's hand gently grip his sleeve and make him sit back down next to her. Umbridge kept her gaze on him for a few seconds before refocusing on the quiet crowd.

"What's going on…?" Pavarti asked quietly to Lavender.

"Probably a boring speech like always," she moaned.

"Before savoring your favorite desserts, I have an announcement to make." Umbridge declared in a solemn tone.

The small woman cast a furtive glance at Filch, standing to the upper right of the room, the sorting hat clutched in his hands.

Hermione scowled. Something odd was happening.

"Is that why she asked everyone to join dinner tonight?" She whispered to her friends, although she already knew the answer.

"As you may know, Professor Dumbledore stepped away so that I could take the direction of Hogwarts and has given his whole faith to the Ministry of Magic in order to rebuild the school stronger and fairer."

Harry could hear whispers and smirking around him; nobody seemed to believe any of it, to his greatest relief. Professor McGonagall had become so red, that Hagrid had to gently lay his hand on her shoulder to remind her to breathe. Even Snape raised an eyebrow at this obvious lie.

"As the new headmistress and representative of the Ministry of Magic, I will deeply follow Mr. Fudge's decisions to recover this school's weaknesses left by Mr. Dumbledore." "I shall thus start at the beginning."

She motioned for Filch to approach her. The entire school watched him trot awkwardly onto the stage, before he put the hat down on a small stool usually used for first-year students.

"Oh, god," Hermione muttered.

Harry glanced at his friends, not sure to understand. Ron looked as confused as him, if not more.

"The minister and I noticed a great deal of laxness in the house sorting process these last decades. As you are all aware, the purpose of the four houses is to allow you to evolve in the best conditions and environment possible based on your strengths and potential. However, this very precise decision should only lie with the sorting hat itself, without any foreign influences whatsoever, thus including your own preferences." Umbridge explained, ignoring the murmurs coming from the tables.

"Each of you will get sorted into your true house tonight and study in a more accurate and fair system. The ministry and I made sure the sorting hat will no longer take your requests or desires into consideration, because, as you should all know, only the truth lies in this school." Her evil eyes rested on Harry, who, as much as he tried to hold her gaze, was feeling sick; his heart pumped into his chest so fast it hurt.

"Wait, did I hear right? She wants us to get sorted again?" George exclaimed a few seats away from Harry.

"Is this a joke?" He shouted louder so Umbridge could hear him.

She smiled as she turned to face him, her small lips pinching. Merlin, he hated that smile.

"Of course not, Mr. Weasley. I would never joke or lie in front of my students."

"She's mental," Fred muttered, almost chuckling at this utterly absurd situation. However, Harry was not laughing—far from it. A loud commotion erupted in the great hall, but he couldn't focus on anything; the world was collapsing around him, and the last branch keeping him from falling had just broken. It was impossible; it couldn't be true; it was just a dream.

Wake up, wake up, wake up...

"Harry"

The calm voice of Ginny made him reopen his eyes, his forehead was sweating under his fringe, and his hands clenched to his pants felt clammy.

"Are you okay?" She asked while Ron and Hermione seemed to be in a revolting discussion with their other classmates. He focused his attention on the youngest Weasley and nodded.

"You'll be in Gryffindor, Harry. As much as this decision is stupid, we shouldn't be too worried, especially not you." She affirmed.

He wanted to believe her, he truly wanted to, but his gut was telling him otherwise. Something was wrong, it couldn't possibly go well; it never went well for him, never.

"It's outrageous! How dare they! It makes no sense!" Hermione exclaimed while Ron was trying to reassure Neville.

"Merlin, my grandma will be so upset, I'm not a Gryffindor, I'm sure I'm not," he sobbed, as Dean and Ron patted his back.

He and Harry seemed to be the only two Gryffindors to be genuinely worried; the others looked confident, or at least, they weren't showing any sign of self-doubt like Neville was. Harry attempted to calm down and avoid expressing any sign of fear on his face.

You're a Gryffindor, Harry; look what you've accomplished.

But the sorting hat told me I would do great in Slytherin.

Your parents were in Gryffindor.

But I could be different, I was raised by the Dursleys.

You're brave, if you're not a Gryffindor, who else would be?

I'm not a good person...

"Silence!"

Umbridge's shriek made the teachers' and students' contempt immediately stop, as did Harry's inner thoughts.

"There is no room for debate; we will start with Hufflepuff, from year one to seven. Please come sit on the stool when I call your name." She took out a long parchment and called the first name.

"This is nonsense! You can't change a student's house like this!" Professor McGonagall yelled. Professor Flitwick and Sprout nodded as they stood up from their seats.

"The sorting hat has always done its work perfectly, providing the most suitable house to each and every Hogwarts student for a millennium!" The Gryffindor head of house exclaimed proudly.

"This sorting hat has been too clement and lax towards our students. Hogwarts houses are not something an eleven-year-old kid can simply choose like he would pick his juice flavor." Umbridge snapped back.

The women were now face-to-face, their lips were pinched and their nostrils flared; only a table full of cold dishes stood between them.

"This hat belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself; you cannot question its flawless accuracy like this, and especially not disrupt the student's house balance in the middle of the year, when fifth and seventh years are preparing for important final examinations!"

"I will not tolerate any more of your comments, Minerva." "This is an order of the Ministry, and if you contest Mr. Fudge's decisions, I suggest you retire, or I will make sure you do."

Professor McGonagall opened her mouth, and slowly closed it. Madam Pomfrey, who was seated to her left, gently laid her hand on her colleague's arm while shaking her head. The tall witch sighed deeply and closed her eyes. She could do nothing, not now. Harry knew she only wanted to protect the students, but the best way to do so was to remain a teacher inside this castle, especially now that Dumbledore was gone.

"Louisa Andrews!" Umbridge shouted as McGonagall sat in defeat.

It felt tremendously long; each name provoked a wave of stress throughout the hall, mostly for the student seated on the stool, but also for what was waiting for the others when it would be their turn. Friends were holding hands as if it were the last time, and some young students were crying even before knowing the result. The tension was palpable on the teacher's table as well; the heads of houses didn't want to lose any students, and the injustice of this decision was making them infuriated.

To people's relief, only one student was sorted into a different house this time, a second year named Katherine Elliot, who got sorted into Gryffindor.

"Why did you ask to be in Hufflepuff, my dear?" asked Umbridge when the young whipping girl sat next to her new classmates.

"I—I… My family is Hufflepuff," she sobbed.

Umbridge nodded. "This is why we are doing this tonight, I hope you all understand. This is for your own good, my children." She smiled at the crowd of quiet and anxious teenagers.

Then came the turn of the Ravenclaws, and four students were sorted into a different house. Umbridge asked each of them the same question, and they all gave the same answers: "My parents," "My favorite house."

She called the Slytherin students. It was already nine o'clock, the whole room was tired; some looked bored, and others still looked panicked.

"Of course we are the last ones... This toad," spat Ron.

Harry glanced at the Slytherins table; they all looked confident, some of them were even smirking, including Draco.

Naturally, Draco had nothing to be concerned about; five years ago, the sorting hat had screamed his house before even touching his hair.

And he was right, Draco indeed remained in Slytherin. This was not the case for five of his classmates: two fourth years, two third years, and one first year. The five of them were booed by the Slytherin table, as if they had committed the largest treason in history.

"Because our family is Slytherin," was the expected and given answer, which caused some "traitors" shouts from their peers, quickly shushed by Umbridge.

"Very well, last house, please, first year, Rayan Ahmed"

That was it; Harry's anxiety was starting to show on his body; his legs and hands were shaking violently under the table, and his breathing was irregular. The booing of Slytherin students flooded his mind; he could already picture himself being called a traitor by his own friends, his own classmates; the disgusted looks of Sirius and Lupin, telling him he wasn't like his parents; the Weasleys refusing to welcome him under their roof any longer; McGonagall's disappointment...

Noah Walters, a four-year-old small boy, got sorted into Hufflepuff. He headed to their table, his head down. However, nobody booed him, (except a couple of Slytherins who were laughing at him), but no Gryffindor did.

It's because he is in Hufflepuff... We're friends with Hufflepuff, it's different.

Ginny remained in Gryffindor, which was not surprising for anyone. Harry knew all the Weasleys would be sorted in their house, and they all seemed to know it as well.

Umbridge started to call the fifth years, and Lavender Brown got sorted into Hufflepuff. Harry's heart stopped. The first fifth-year was already sorted into a different house. The young girl almost shrieked, tears rolling heavily down her red cheeks. Umbridge patted her shoulder with a satisfied smile and fake empathy, before Lavender ran to the Hufflepuff table, where Susan and Hannah immediately hugged her tightly. Harry shut his eyes; it was impossible; he was having a nightmare.

"Merlin's beard..." Ron muttered, looking astonished as he stared at the crying Lavender. Parvati let out a sob as she hid her face behind her shaky hands.

Seamus's name got called, and his roommate was soon sorted into Gryffindor. Then it was Hermione's turn. His best friend sat on the stool, she looked less confident than an hour before; The chances of being in Ravenclaw were significantly high for her; they all knew it, and after witnessing her roommate sitting at the Hufflepuff table, she realized everything could happen. Harry saw Ron crossing his fingers, his lips clamped together.

"Gryffindor!"

The table rejoiced and welcomed the girl back with them. She hugged Harry and Ron tightly, a small tear in the corner of her eyes.

"I knew it, we're all going to Gryffindor," Ron laughed, as Hermione nodded relievedly.

"You too, Neville," Dean affirmed when the young teenagers stared at his empty plate.

"Neville Longbottom"

Harry's friend staggered to his feet under the encouraging gazes of his classmates and teachers, and under the mocking gazes of the Slytherins' fifth year.

"Good luck"

"You got this."

He nodded sheepishly and headed to the stool, where the sorting hat was heavily planted on his head. It took a few seconds for the hat to make its decision, a few seconds during which Neville's legs were violently shaking against the stool rungs. Harry could see McGonagall's distressed face behind Umbridge's pink robes.

"Gryffindor!"

Neville screamed. McGonagall screamed, and the whole Gryffindor table screamed. The teenager looked so relieved that he almost hugged Umbridge, before remembering who she was, resulting in him backing away awkwardly and running toward his friends instead.

Harry congratulated him, while Parvati walked toward the hat. Neville looked genuinely in heaven, he couldn't stop smiling as if he had won a trophy, or passed his OWLs.

Neville is a Gryffindor. If Neville is a Gryffindor, you are a Gryffindor, you are a Gryffindor, you are a Gryffindor, you are a Gryffindor.

"Harry Potter."

The room fell silent. Parvati quietly sat back down next to Hermione, while watching Harry slowly get up. She threw an encouraging smile, which he didn't give back, and he trailed toward his death sentence. He ignored the cheers from his friends as much as the laughs from his enemies. He hated the way Umbridge was looking at him, with her evil smile and her smug look.

He walked to the stool, his heart racing so fast it felt like it would explode at any moment. He sat and felt the big hat being laid on his hair. He closed his eyes, unable to face all these faces staring at him.

'I'm a Gryffindor, I'm a Gryffindor, I'm a Gryffindor'

The sorting hat sighed, visibly exhausted by the situation. For a while, everything was silent; no one dared to speak; even the teachers were quiet. The hat was taking much more time than for the other kids, which increased Harry's nervousness.

Please, please, please

"I'm sorry" The old hat whispered, so he was the only one hearing him.

No no no, please…

"Slytherin!" The sorting hat shouted into the hall.

Harry's heart stopped beating, his life stopped. He kept his eyes shut and felt like he was dead. The room was utterly quiet—no shouts, no booing, no screaming, nothing. The hat was finally removed from his head, but Harry remained in the same position for a few moments, incapable of comprehending what was happening. He was back in his fourth year, when his name was drawn from the goblet of fire. It was starting all over again—the stares, the humiliation, the gossip, the judgments...

"Hum hum!"

Harry slowly opened his eyes, only to see a blurry room. He couldn't focus on anything or anyone. Umbridge approached him and touched his arm, making him violently back away from her. She was wearing the same satisfied smile, if not even wider than ten minutes earlier.

"Are you alright, my dear?" She asked with a soft, infuriating voice.

'I—I'm not…" Harry was absently shaking his head, attempting to maintain his composure not only in front of her but also in front of the hundred eyes on him.

"You shall go sit at your table, Mr. Potter."

Harry stared at her in shock. He wanted to speak, to shout, to run, but he did nothing. He rose awkwardly from his stool. He heard his transfiguration teacher explode in anger, although he couldn't grasp what she was yelling.

"Potter is certainly not a Slytherin, what is this nonsense?!" That was all he managed to hear in the loud and fuzzy shouts that sounded like gibberish. He slowly headed to the Slytherin table under the whispers of the students, which grew louder throughout the great hall. He walked with his eyes fixed on the ground, avoiding all gazes and attempting to ignore all comments. The dark-haired teenager sat in the closest empty seat, next to young, tiny first-years. He didn't look at the Gryffindor table; he refused to face his best friend's expressions; nor did he glance at the teachers' table, where his favorite teachers had started a new argument against Umbridge.

He briefly wondered how Snape had reacted to this news, but decided not to yield to his curiosity, and stared at his hands instead.

"My dear, you should perhaps sit next to your classmates, you know, students of your age." Umbridge suggested in a provocative tone after shutting down her colleagues.

The Slytherins laughed, except for the first-years around Harry, who looked somewhat afraid of him. He sighed and stood up a second time, anger rising in his chest. He dragged himself toward the fifth-years but didn't look at their faces, as he would not give them the satisfaction of being humiliated. He slouched between a fourth year and Blaise, directly facing Draco and Goyle. His eyes were glued to the wood of the table. He had no idea what was happening around him, but he knew they were judging him—the entire school was judging him.

"Could you explain to your classmates why you asked for Gryffindor, my dear?"

Harry didn't want to play this game; it was already a living hell. Why was she driving the point home?

"I'm asking you a question, Mr. Potter."

Her voice made him want to scream, to slap her with all the strength he had.

"I didn't ask to be a Gryffindor." He muttered.

"We can't hear you, please speak louder."

Harry raised his gaze, and slaughtered her with his eyes.

"I didn't ask to be a Gryffindor," he snapped, "I just asked to not be a Slytherin."

Some students chuckled, he noticed Draco's eyebrow raising slightly.

"Can you tell me why?" She asked.

He had not anticipated this second question. What could he say? That he had just met Draco before the sorting ceremony and had instantly hated him? that Ron had warned him about this house?

"Well...I just didn't really fancy being in Voldemort's house" he said without thinking.

The room gasped at the mention of his name, Harry wanted to roll his eyes but refrained from doing so; the situation was already bad enough for him.

"I guess it will be another week of detention, Mr. Potter." She declared before calling Dean Thomas.

Harry kept his eyes on the table. What could he do? He was surrounded by his worst enemies, whose fathers had been participating in his torture in the graveyard. He wanted to flee, disappear, and join Sirius in Grimmauld place. He was already regretting not having been expelled from Hogwarts during his trial.

"So what's it like to be a Slytherin Potty?" Draco snarled.

Harry didn't answer. As difficult as it could be for him, he needed to stay quiet and calm. The attention was already too focused on him. A part of him wanted to know what was happening on the stool, as Ron had just been called, but it felt too complicated to focus on anything other than his own misery. He was devoured by the vicious feeling of guilt—the feeling of injustice, of complete shame. Why him? Why always him?

Then questions started to fly in his brain: Was he really a Slytherin? Was he a bad person? He could speak Parseltongue; maybe he was, in fact, a pure Slytherin. What would his parents think of him? Will Ron and Hermione stop talking to him? What about Sirius, Lupin? Molly, Arthur? Even Ginny, Fred, George, Bill, Charlie... Would Percy be even more convinced that he was a liar? As well as Seamus?

He heard "Gryffindor" and immediately knew it was for Ron. So he was the only one—the only new Slytherin in the entire school. He wanted to throw up. Umbridge concluded with the last seventh year student, Fred Weasley, and the desserts appeared in front of everyone. It was almost ten, nobody felt hungry anymore; especially after all the stress and agitation this unexpected event had caused.

"For the new students, you will go fetch your belongings tonight and transfer to your new room. Beds will be added and prepared for you, as well as your new robes. Please enjoy the rest of your dinner, and I wish you a successful academic year."

Umbridge smiled one last time at the distraught students before turning around and resuming her seat in the chair that Dumbledore should have occupied.

So that was it—the real beginning of hell.

Notes:

Please note that I have no hatred against the Slytherin house, but this story is mostly from Harry's POV so you'll follow his evolution~