Harry Potter sat in a boat, along with Neville and Hermione and Ron, as it slid over the water. They saw Hogwarts for the first time - the grand old castle, full of so many memories. Harry kinda wanted to run up and give the whole big castle a hug.
First time here. He reminded himself, getting off the boat and following Hagrid up the hill. McGonagall met them at the door. Harry hadn't really listened to McGonagall the first time, he'd been so busy dealing with the crowd, and orienting himself to being in a Real Castle, with suits of armor - and ghosts!
Hermione sounded just as swotty as he'd remembered, informing Ron that it wasn't a troll that sorts you.
And then it was time - all the children filed in. Harry tried to hide, halfway, in the middle where no one could pick him out. It was inevitable that people were going to stare - he was going to have his name announced, and sit on a bloody stool with a hat, for Merlin's sake!
But, for the precious halycon moments between Abbott and Bones and Parkinson, he could pretend. He could not be stared at.
... and more importantly, he could watch.
He knew things he didn't, last go round.
Quirrel looked nervous and twitchy, mostly - but that was normal, and normal was probably good. He was acting to keep his true nature under wraps, and that meant that he was still trying to find the Stone.
With his usual sneer, Snape studied everyone carefully - even the children who were clearly going to be Hufflepuffs. He has them all for class, doesn't he? Harry thought, I've taught kids from three of the four houses, and it does pay to know as much as you can about them. He cut himself off with a snort, Not that Snape ever knew a damned thing about me! Even after he had permission to peer in my bloody skull!
Dumbledore watched everything with a genial, if negligent, look. He's been to how many sorting ceremonies?
Parkinson, the posh girl with the horribly stuck-up nose, was sent to Slytherin, who tended to be quiet. Harry saw someone pumping his arms in the air - in Gryffindor this would have been accompanied by a raucous cheer - but the lad managed to make the gesture dead silent.
"Harry Potter," Prof. McGonagall said, looking at the unsorted students. Harry stepped out of the shadow of Ron (always taller than he was), and sidestepped around the dark-skinned soon-to-be-Slytherin boy.
Harry sat down on the stool - his feet didn't hit the floor, and McGonagall placed the hat on his head. It promptly nearly tipped over - Harry caught it, and stuffed it down lower - it fell onto his shoulders, and he got to smell the grease of a thousand heads.
Oh, thanks muchly, The Sorting Hat responded, Couldn't see about getting me cleaned, now could you?
I wouldn't know how, Harry Potter responded, Don't the professors take care of that?
Try a petition? On behalf of concerned soon-to-be students?
And what should I put on it?
That the Sorting Hat hasn't been washed in half a millenia, and is starting to smell rancid and think just a little differently. Why, if the Sorting Hat isn't cleaned, it might do something unpredictable with the next Weasley!
They all go to Gryffindor, don't they?
Nearly. The Sorting Hat said, sounding stern. Don't be copping no Innocent attitude with me, young sir. You are unique, you realize?
Unique? I'm just Harry...
Harry two-lives, boy who lived, Gryffindor Quiddich star.
It was that last one that made Harry freeze.
You know? Harry asked, heart in his gut.
Last time, you pleaded, you schemed to find your way to Gryffindor.
I told you you could be great...
Now I'll see that you will be.
"Slytherin!" the hat proclaimed.
The hall was dead silent. Several Slytherins were craning their heads, staring in disbelief. Harry caught a few Hufflepuffs deflating, as if they'd thought Harry Potter might take them to glory. Most of the Ravenclaws were reading smuggled books - even a hero couldn't compare to the lure of the next paragraph. The Gryffindors looked baffled, or upset. Only the Twins looked worried. And that look on their faces should have worried him.
Harry walked to the Slytherin table, thinking only of doom. He... couldn't do this, from Slytherin, could he?
As Harry sat down, Draco Malfoy sent him a relieved smile, "You'll find good friends in Slytherin."
Shite, he thinks he's my friend now.
Harry's eyes turned instinctively up at the Head Table. In the quiet of the room (Someone else was being sorted), Harry caught the unusual sight of Severus Snape, smiling.
Harry's mind broke, and it was only residual determination that kept hot wet tears from sliding down his face. I will not let them see me cry.
[a/n: Gotten a bit sick of every single story about Harry Potter in Slytherin setting Draco up as an antagonist. Sometimes it works fine, but...
Please leave a review!]
