"You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there," Draco Malfoy said with a smirk and a glare at Ron Weasley, and held out his pale hand. Harry Potter hesitated and gave him a sympathetic, accepting smile. "Now, there's no need to be mean to my new friend, Draco. Yes, I'd love to be your friend," he replied after a few moments. Draco's eyes widened and an enthusiastic grin spread over his face. Draco felt so happy he could burst. He was going to be friends with the Harry Potter. He was going to protect him, cherish him, and love him so much as his very own friend. But his father had told him he had to be sorted into Slytherin. If not, he would be very disappointed. And nothing was ever good when father was disappointed! But Harry Potter was definitely going to be sorted with the noble Gryffindors. How could he be his friend if they were in two different houses? A light tap on his shoulder with a roll of parchment drew Draco out of his thoughts. "Go back to where you were," McGonagall looked over her glasses and said lightly. Draco practically skipped back to Gregory and Vincent. He definitely didn't want to be their friends anymore. He had Harry Potter! McGonagall led them through the Great Hall. All of the older students from the four Houses either grinned, waved, or smirked at the new First Years. Up front, there was a three legged wooden stool and on it sat a dusty, worn out hat. "That must be the Sorting Hat. I read all about it in Hogwarts, A History," a bushy brown-haired girl piped up near Harry and Ron. "Oh, hello. You're the girl from the train. Hi, er, um, what was it again?" Harry said sheepishly. "Hermione," she said with a pretty grin. Harry smiled back. "Yes. Hi, Hermione." Ron glanced at them and smiled too, giving Hermione a small wave. Suddenly, the Sorting Hat began to sing. "Oh, you may not think I'm pretty, But don't judge on what you see. I'll eat myself if you can find, A smarter hat than me. You can keep your bowlers back, Your top hats sleek and tall, For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat, And I can cap them all. There's nothing hidden in your head, The Sorting Hat can't see, So try me on, and I will tell you, Where you ought to be. You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry, Set Gryffindors apart; You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true, And unafraid to toil; Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, If you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind; Or perhaps in Slytherin, You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folk use any means, To achieve their ends. So put me on! Don't be afraid! And don't get in a flap! You're in safe hands (though I have none), For I'm a Thinking Cap!" "Let the Sorting begin!" McGonagall ended the song with. All of the First Years were bunched up in front of the Professors' dining table with different expressions. Some were a sickly shade of nervous green, others were bouncing up and down excitedly or glancing at their surroundings. Some just seemed bored out of their mind. "Abbott, Hannah," the Transfigurations Professor called out first. A short, slightly round blonde girl made her way to the brown three legged stool and plopped down on it with a smile. "Hmm… Where should I put you?" the Sorting Hat muttered. After moments of thoughtful consideration, the hat called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!" The newest Hufflepuff student happily made her way to the table of students filled with yellow and black ties, sitting down next near the edge with a bunch of second years. "Longbottom, Neville," beckoned Professor McGonagall. A nervous chubby boy wobbled up to the stool, and was soon sorted into Gryffindor house. Draco was lost in thought. Would he allow himself to be sorted into Gryffindor? Ooh, he wondered, would Harry be sorted into Slytherin? His name being called snapped him back to the present. He gracefully strolled up to the awaiting stool with the Pureblood pride his father had raised him with. Lightly sitting down on the stool, the Hat had barely touched his head when it yelled out, "SLYTHERIN!" Draco Malfoy kept a smug smile pasted on his face but it disappeared once he looked at Harry in horror. Please come to Slytherin, he pleaded in his mind at Harry. After Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Ernie Macmillan, Justin Finch-Fletchley, Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Mandy Brocklehurst, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, Padma Patil, Vincent Crabbe, Gregory Goyle, Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bulstrode, and Daphne Greengrass had been sorted, Harry was finally called. "Potter, Harry," Professor McGonagall announced. The Boy-Who-Lived hastily made his way up to the seat and plopped down. "Interesting," the Sorting Hat mumbled, "Very interesting. I know just where to put you. SLYTHERIN!" the hat bellowed. The room went silent. Students were gaping like fish, jaws hanging loosely. They would have expected anything but for Harry to be placed into the house of the serpent. Rude mutters could be heard throughout the room. "He was cursed by Voldemort, it makes sense." "Yeah, he probably inherited his evil-ness." "He probably is Voldemort in disguise and wants to kill us all!" "Mhm!" Harry nervously sat next to his blonde friend. Draco and the rest of the Slytherins were absolutely ecstatic about Harry being in the same house as them, but were furious at all the rude comments and hums of agreement he was receiving. Thankfully, Dumbledore shut all conversation up with a dismissing wave of his palm and began his speech. "May I welcome our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Instructor, Professor Merryweather," Headmaster Dumbledore announced and then turned around- To see no Professor sitting at the Defense Against the Dark Arts' seat. The students and professors gasped in realization. They hadn't noticed there was no professor there the entire time. Where did she go?