Chapter 2
Harry and Draco settled into one of the few remaining compartments, and were just finishing putting up their luggage when the train started moving, quickly picking up pace.
“So, what house do you want to be in?” Draco asked. Harry looked at him blankly, he knew the pale blonde kid was just trying to make small talk, but honestly, Harry had no idea what he was talking about.
“What are you-” Harry was just about to ask what in the world he was talking about, when the compartment door slid open.
“Hey do you mind if I-” a pale boy with bright ginger hair was standing in the doorway. He seemed to be about to say something, but he locked eyes with Draco, who appeared to be sneering at the boy with such hatred it was a wonder the boy didn’t run away screaming.
“What’s up,” Harry asked kindly before Draco could say anything.
“Um… I was just wondering if this compartment was full, but I can see it is so, I’ll just…” he trailed off, his ears turning bright pink.
“No, not at all, come sit. I’m Harry, what’s your name?” The moment he said it, he regretted it. He recognized the reaction of awe and fear, and of course, the way their eyes lingered for a second too long on the white streak in his hair, and his lightning bolt scar he desperately tried to hide between his bangs.
“Harry Potter? Actually? Is that why your hair is all…” he indicated at the white streak in his hair.
“Anyways!” Draco interrupted, “yes our compartment is full. If that’s all you were asking then…” he spread his hands.
“No, it isn’t. We have plenty of room. Have a seat.” He patted the space next to him.
“Oh,” the redhead boy seemed to ponder this for a long while, before finally deciding to take the seat next to him. “I’m… Ron Weasley. Nice to meet you. Draco.” he nodded curtly at Draco, who just nodded back coldly.
“Wait- do you two know each other?” Harry felt as though he was very much missing something.
“Of course,” Draco explained, “everyone knows the Weasleys are blood traitors.”
“Blood what now?” Harry felt the same lost sensation that he had come to know as commonplace since his letter arrived.
“It means,” Ron interjected before Draco could speak, “we aren’t selfish little gits who hate on everyone who you decide is beneath you.”
“That isn’t-” Draco seemed to genuinely consider this, “never mind.”
“So, Harry, what house are you hoping to get into?” Ron asked, clearly trying to change the subjects.
“Um… I dunno? I read a bit about them, but they all seem cool.” Harry had genuinely tried to read his textbooks, but everything seemed so alien to him, and there wasn’t much time to read, what with the dursleys and everything else.
“Gryffindor is obviously the best choice. I mean, it’s not like I have much of a choice, what with my family and all. Every single one of them has been in Gryffindor,” he seemed to think about it for a second, “Ravenclaw wouldn’t be too bad though. So long as I’m not in Slytherin, it wouldn’t be too bad, I suppose.”
“What’s wrong with Slytherin?” Harry asked. He remembered reading about it, but not much.
“Nothing,” Draco put in, before Ron could say anything, “it means your cunning, intelligent, resourceful, and, of course, ambitious. My whole family was in Slytherin.”
“And your whole family worked as the dark lord's lap dogs,” Ron muttered.
“Who? Voldemort?” Draco and Ron both winced at the mention of his name, “did they?” Harry turned to Draco.
“No-” Draco said all too quickly, “I mean- they did. But- not like- they didn’t have a choice. It’s not like-” he scoffed, and his pale cheeks turned pink, “never mind.” Ron looked at him with a combination of amusement and disgust. Draco struggled to regain his composure under the amused look of Ron. “In any case, no. Slytherins aren’t ‘evil’.” Ron actually laughed at that, but there was no humor behind it.
The train ride continued that way for pretty much the rest of the journey. Harry tried to keep things civil, but it seemed pointless. The two boys, although they admitted to never having met each other, seemed to hate each other on principle.
Harry stepped off the platform in a trance. They passed through the self-driving carriages, the Great Lake, and into the halls of hogwarts. Throughout all of this Harry was entranced. He had still been half convinced that it was all a big mistake. After all, Harry was just a child living under the stairs. Somehow, in the past few days, he had found out that he, an orphan child, had saved the wizarding world from a dark wizard, and he himself was a wizard, who had inherited a massive fortune from his parents and needed to attend a wizarding school. It had frankly all felt like a fever dream. Showing up to this magical school with moving staircases and self driving carriages was the final nail in the coffin.
A strict looking woman with her hair in a tight bun wearing green robes and a matching hat came to greet the first years outside the great hall. Most of his future classmates were listening intently, some biting nails nervously, others fidgeting with their robes. Harry tried to listen to the woman, who he now knew as Professor McGonagall, but his brain seemed to be too full to take in any more information.
After her lecture on how the sorting worked, (which Harry only partially understood. Something about a hat?) She led the first years into the great hall.
The massive doors opened, and they were herded through the great hall. A few of the older students gawked at Harry as he passed. He was used to this, of course, with the white streak in his hair that aunt petunia had attempted to dye on numerous occasions, but had never succeeded, and, of course, his scar, not like this, though. Each of the older kids seemed to be inspecting him, as though trying to figure out if he was worthy of sitting among them.
The animated talking hat that was tasked with determining the house of each child by going into their brains might have been creepy, if not for the fact that his nerves were already so high. The hat went through each kid quickly, and with each kid it passed, his nerves rose.
When it got to ‘Malfoy’, the hat barely hesitated before calling out, “SLYTHERIN!” Which was greeted by applause from the table furthest to the left, and general booing from the rest of the crowd.
Eventually, it was time. Professor McGonagall called out, “Harry Potter,” and the crowd murmured nervously, no doubt remembering the stories their parents told them about the famous Harry Potter, who vanquished the dark lord, and comparing it to the gangly pre-teen boy they saw before them. He stepped up nervously, and allowed the hat into his mind.
Harry Potter, eh? The hat seemed to be speaking within his mind. You are destined for greatness, no doubt about that. Gryffindor would suit you. Hm… no. I see much more potential if I put you in… “SLYTHERIN!”
The last word echoed through the great hall and met with absolute silence. No cheering. No booing. Just pure shock and the sound of his footsteps as he walked across the hall and joined Draco at his table.