What Better Show of Courage?

When Harry was in elementary school, before he had come to Hogwarts, there was a certain hierarchy among the students. It went like this; the rest of the students, then Harry. 

It was a rich well-to-do neighbourhood, the type that has a community garden that is well maintained and never touched by the residents except to exchange pleasantries about how well at gardening they each were, and how surely the other’s plants would come up best, all while their hands remained carefully manicured. 

Harry, of course, wasn’t allowed in the community garden, in case he messed it up, despite the garden of Number 4 remaining picture perfect, each flower the brightest of its neighbours. 

This, of course, meant that the children who would normally be impacted by Dudley and the others, had loving parents who would intervene on behalf of their child with righteous anger. When Dudley had attempted the same moves he made on Harry on the stuttering boy in the back of the class, it had resulted in rumours of two delinquents in the neighborhood, the boorish boy clearly taking after his cousin. 

Dudley halted any attempts to target anyone but Harry after that. 

By the time Harry was getting ready for his eleventh birthday, Harry had learned that teacher’s couldn’t be trusted. When Harry had come crying over his busted lip, his second grade teacher had told him to stop harassing Dudley or she’d tell Aunt Petunia. Harry, foolish enough to try to explain, was promptly treated to the cupboard when he got home. 

It happened again and again over the years, Dudley, who the teacher’s adored, who just needed a little more help with grades–they fluctuated just like Harry’s own, but instead of the accusations of cheating he received, Dudley received extra credit assignments–until he could reach the level he needed. 

It was funny, in a way, now that he was fifteen, to look back on the days that had seen Dudley’s grades go from straight A’s to D’s the second he heard Aunt Petunia punishing Harry for having high ones. Now that he was older, it was easy to see the solid five months of D- 's they both received that soon turned into never handing work in at all as one of the funniest moments of his life. They only broke out of it when Dudley had been told, by one of his least favourite teachers during a test, that if he was worried Harry was going to copy him he just needed to let her know, and she’d have Harry write in another room. She followed it up by reassuring Dudley that he wasn’t responsible for what Harry got, but if Dudley kept it up she was sure Uncle Vernon would be very disappointed in him. 

Dudley, who had never received Vernon’s disappointment in his life, stepped it up until his grades sat at a solid B for the rest of Elementary school. Just to be contrary, and also because Harry wasn’t stupid enough to go higher than Dudley, he got C ‘s across the board. 

Was it any surprise then, that as he crossed into this magical world, that all Harry felt was suspicion? 

Harry Potter listened to Hagrid wax poetic about the Headmaster Dumbledore, who sent Hagrid to rescue him, and thought I need to stay on his good side. So when he stepped into the robe shop, Hagrid not at his side, and the boy next to him started talking, Harry Potter started listening. 

“I’m going to be in Slytherin,” The boy announced, sounding just like Dudley, and Harry almost made a fatal mistake. “Father said we always win the house cup, even if the Headmaster tries to prevent it.” 

Harry nodded along to the boy, careful not to say a word. The boy seemed like Dudley, and if he angered him, who knows what would happen? Harry might lose the only hope of being ‘all the rest’ much sooner than he anticipated. 

The white haired boy seemed pleased at Harry’s attention, even if it wasn't much. “I think I’d go home if I was sorted into Hufflepuff, wouldn’t you?”

Harry didn’t respond. He didn’t know what any of these words meant, just that he couldn’t go to Hufflepuff or Slytherin–not if he wanted to be safe. The boy looked annoyed now, that Harry didn’t respond to anything he said, but soon it was over and done with, and Harry could ask Hagrid more questions and figure out what Hufflepuff and Slytherin were, and how to avoid getting in either, 

Hagrid answered every question he asked, and Harry marked down Slytherin in big bright bold letters ‘DO NOT GO’ in his head. The Headmaster didn’t like it, and neither did Hagrid, which meant if he wanted to keep both of their protection, he’d have to go somewhere else. Not Hufflepuff, if the boy;s attitude was anything to go off of. 

Ravenclaw or Gryffindor then. 

He figured it out on the train. The boy who sat with him told him all his brothers went to Gryffindor, which, given how sure the boy had been of the family significance of the sorting, meant Ron was likely to go there too. Having a friend there would be nice, he thought, he wasn’t quite sure. He’d never had a friend before. 

Hermione would be the one to hammer in the certainty of Gryffindor into his mind. She had announced that the Headmaster sorted there, and given people’s tendency to like people similar to themselves–as evidenced by only magic people liking him–that might mean extra protection. In addition, Harry had seen Ron’s reaction to Hermione upon her stating that Ravenclaw could be an option, the snort of derision sealing the decision. 

Gryfindor would be the only place he could keep the people he’s met. The only place he could be safe. 

The sorting hat argued, but Harry argued back. 

“What better show of courage,” He told the hat, “Then to go somewhere completely new?” 

When the hat argued, Harry argued back, “Isn’t it chivalry, to defend a friend you have only just met?” 

The hat relented, and Harry sat down to red and gold, and watched the headmaster up at his table smile a twinkling smile, and knew he made the right choice. 

Second year, Harry had that fact slammed into his head running from a giant snake, and was glad he had been too scared to improve his grades. A Prefect? Top of his year? Spoke to snakes?

If Snape hated him because he looked like his father, what would Dumbledore do if he started acting like the Dark Lord? No, he had to hide this. Had to be better than this. Curse his stupid first year self for telling Dumbledore where he was almost sorted. How stupid could he have been? 

So Harry was Harry Potter once more, and Harry Potter was quiet.