Possibilities

Harry Potter sits alone, at peace; watching the countryside pass as one masterpiece of art. He’s never seen the world like this before, and certainly not without the suffocating presence of his Aunt and Uncle. 

He feels liberated and equally terrified too. He’s finally free from that house and those people, and simply put, he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Despite this though, every time he turns around to find himself without Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon his heart does a little leap of joy. 

He’s off to Hogwarts - a rather unflattering name Harry thinks - School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And as if the revelation of his magical abilities wasn’t crazy enough his entire world had been flipped on its axis. Five days ago he was being whisked away Hagrid in the middle of the night - glorified kidnapping - and thrown into this world of magic and mystery and wonder. 

Now he was on a large red train with a bunch of other magical children and not adults to be found. 

He half wonders if Uncle Vernon has finally done good on his promise and sent him away - ‘you’re not my problem, boy’. 

Harry feels like an idiot for not caring why or where, just that it’s not them and there. His heart does a little jump again. 

Someone clears their throat. 

Harry looks away from the rolling fields and towards a boy his age standing in the door. He’s lanky, with a mop of ginger hair, pale skin littered with freckles. He looks quite awkward. 

This was one of Aunt Petunias paranoid idiocies - gingers. She didn’t like them. “Devils children,” she would mutter under her breath. It was decided then - Harry had to be friends with this boy. 

“I’m Ron,” he awkwardly rubs his neck, “Ron Weasley.” 

“Nice to meet you,” Harry extends a hand toward the boy - Ron. 

“Blimey, you’re proper, eh?” Despite the good natured joke, Ron still shakes his hand. 

“I’m Harry, do you want to sit?” Ron practically flings himself into one of the seats; discarding his jacket in the floor in the dignified form of a crumpled heap. 

“Thanks mate,” Ron offers him a lopsided grin, “I can’t find any compartments anywhere. They’re all taken; blimey it’s mental how quickly everyone else has made friends, eh?” 

Ron sighs, clearly finding it quite disheartening that he has not been as quick to join in. 

“We’re friends though, aren’t we?” Harry asks him. Harry’s never had friends before not really, and not for any impressive amount of time. They’re always scared off by his brute of a cousin - who is useless at most key things in life that he has instead focused on the only thing he is good at, making Harry’s life hell. 

Rons face lights up, his eyes crease at the corner due to the massive grin he’s now sporting. “We are?” Harry nods. 

“I’ve never had proper friends before,” Ron explains. “Well, I mean, I’ve had friends obviously. Just not my own ones. They’re always family friends. Everyone prefers my older brothers anyway.” 

Something inside Harry feels for the boy. At least his lack of friends didn’t have anything to do with him. “I’ve never had a friend before either.” 

This seems to settle Ron - who seems rather embarrassed at his oversharing. They slowly transition into easier conversations. How excited they are, pets, classes. It’s easy and the conversation flows without either of them having to try. Harry finds himself feeling quite warm. 

Harry told him all about Hagrid and they ordered an obscene amount of sweets and chocolate treats. He’s sure he’s going to be sick, and he’s sure he doesn’t care. 

It’s another hour of chatter between the boys before they’re interrupted. This time by a girl. She’s tall, taller than Harry but not quite as tall as Ron. She has brown hair pulled back into pleats, a kind face but sharp analytical eyes. Something tells Harry she is not to be messed with. 

“I’m Hermione Granger.” She says it as though it’s self explanatory. It’s not. 

“Harry,” Harry says, motioning to himself. “And Ron Weasley.” He motions to Ron. “You’re welcome to sit with us if you’d like.” 

Hermione stops to consider this, “Sure.” She says it as though she isn’t bothered by the proposal, but she says it too quickly; Harry sees a flicker of insecurity in her eyes. 

“I would like to read my book,” she says, “I’m not much of a talker.” She looks at them trying to gage their reaction. She’s so unapologetically herself, yet she always looks back to check they’re not laughing at her. 

Harry nods, stares out the window. 

“What are you reading?” That’s Ron. It seems, at least to Harry, that Ron is not one for silence. He needs to be doing something - constantly - he’s like a little ball of energy. 

Hermione sighs, “Hogwarts A History.” 

“Blimey,” Ron’s eyes are like saucers, “I didn’t think anyone had actually ever read that.” 

“I’ve read it seven times already.” 

That stops Ron in his tracks. He simply stares at Hermione in - awe? shock? 

“Are you just going to stare at me and gawk,” Hermione says, folding the book over. 

“Yes.”

“Well don’t. You look like an idiot.”

Ron seems to shake himself out of the trance. “Bloody Hell,” he says, “sorry, just, seven times? Is it really that good? I’d always thought it’d be quite boring.”

“I’m sure it would be, for someone like you,” Hermione snaps. “You grew up with it. This is all new to me, it’s exhilarating.” 

Ron’s cheeks light up bright red - you could practically land an aeroplane with them. “Sorry,” he mutters. 

The door flies open again to reveal yet another person. A blonde boy rushes in, hurriedly closing the door behind him. 

“Malfoy,” he says, “Draco Malfoy.” 

Harry thinks it’s peculiar how he introduces himself with his surname first; like it’s the most important thing about him. 

Ron glares at the boy. Harry doesn’t understand what that’s about. 

The boy sits down. He’s the tallest of the four, pale skin and blonde hair, icy blue eyes. A cold exterior. 

“My father tasked two boys in our year with being my friends,” he scoffs. “They’re insufferable.” 

“So you’re hiding in here.” Hermione. 

Draco nods. 

“I’m Harry, this is Ron, and Hermione.” 

“Hi,” Draco greets them. “Weasley, right?” Ron nods stiffly, the boy clearly not enjoying the others presence. 

“It’s wonderful to meet you,” he says grinning, “My father hates your family.” 

Ron looks surprised at the pleasant response to this. “Feelings mutual.” 

“Rightly so.” 

There’s a moment of silence before Hermione speaks. “What houses do you think you’ll be in?” 

“I have to be in Gryffindor.” Ron grumbles, “My whole family is.” 

“Slytherin,” Draco shrugs. “My father might die if I don’t.” 

Hermione nods, “Ravenclaw for me I think.” She shrugs, “Maybe Gryffindor.” 

They all look at Harry expectantly, and he realises he hasn’t answered them. “I guess just not Slytherin?” He says. 

He looks at the three people in the compartment with him. “Will we be friends, even if we’re not in the same house?” 

Ron nods his head - Harry thinks he’s still quite giddy about having a friend. Hermione smiles, “yes, Harry, of course we can.” 

Harry likes her. She’s smart and witty and kind. 

Draco shrugs, “Let’s do it.” 

They share a boat across the lake together. Secretly, Harry finds this to be a terrifying experience. Ron is eccentric and constantly moving, Harry grips the side of the boat; The constant movement is going to capsize them. 

He looks past Ron to see Draco doing the same thing. They share a look, grinning. 

They meet McGonnogal, the stern head of Gryffindor house. They file into the hall together bumping shoulders as they are stared at by millions of onlookers. Sizing them up. 

They wait in a mass at the front of the hall where a raggedy hat sits on top a stool. It’s patched up and horrible dirty colour. 

Then, it starts to sing. 

It sings if the houses. Gryffindor; brave and noble. Ravenclaw; clever and witty. Hufflepuff; kind and trusting. Slytherin; ambitious and cunning. 

Harry wonders what happens if you don’t belong to any of those houses. What if he doesn’t fit into their boxes, and they send him away. 

He can’t go back there. Not now. Not now that he has friends and maybe a home. Not now that he’s finally escaped. 

People get called up and the hat is placed in their head. It calls out the name of the house each person is best suited to. Some take mere seconds barely grazing the persons head, others take minutes. 

“Granger, Hermione.” 

Hermione seems to tremble as she walks up to the hat, she sits with it in her head, eyes clenched shut and fists balled up. They wait with baited breathes. 

“SLYTHERIN!” The hat calls out. There’s loud raucous clapping from the green table. Hermione’s face falls but she seems to compose herself beige walking over. 

Other people are called and sorted befit it’s Dracos turn. He’s called up and he sits down, with an almost cocky grin on his face. He knows where he’s going and nothing will - “RAVENCLAW!” 

Draco blinks and doesn’t move. He’s clearly in shock. He stays there in the stool almost willing the hat to rethink its choice, but he’s being carted over to the sea of blue people before he can even truly comprehend what is happening. 

“Potter, Harry.” 

The hall erupts into whispers and he can feel everyone turning to look at him. “Blimey, you never told me you were Harry Potter.” 

Harry heard his name called and walks up. He turns to face the crowd, they’re all staring at him. He’s stomach twists with anxiety and he has to look away from everyone so not to be sick. He hates oriole looking at him. 

The hat is placed on his head. 

“Ahhh,” the hat drawls. “Curious, yes. Harry Potter.” 

It’s a disembodied voice that seems to exist solely in his head. Creepy. 

“I know just where to put you. Unexpected.” 

“SLYTHERIN.” 

Harry breathes out. The hall is quiet. Then the Slytherin table erupts into celebration. He rushes over taking a seat next to Hermione. 

She smiles gently at him. 

“It’s okay,” she whispers to him, “I was disappointed too, at first.” 

“Not now?” 

Hermione shrugs, “It makes sense I suppose. I am ambitious, and quite cunning. That doesn’t have to be a bad thing.” 

Harry has an overwhelming desire to hug her right now. To thank her for validating his feelings and letting him view it all in a new way. 

He’s glad, almost, that he’s in this house. Because then he’s with her, and he thinks she’s quite a good friend. Inquisitive mind, beautiful soul. 

“I guess the green brings out my eyes.” 

The both laugh. 

“Weasley, Ron.” 

Ron looks positively green as he walks up to the hat. He sits and the hat brushes his had before crying out: “HUFFLEPUFF!” 

Ron looks crestfallen. Ashamed. Tears gather in his eyes. Then someone begins to clap, from Hufflepuff. It’s contagious. The whole table erupts with joy, one kid yells out: “We finally got a Weasley!” 

Ron grins down and sits down at the table. 

He looks at Harry and Hermione, and Draco too. They’re eyes all connecting and they all smile at eachother. 

It wasn’t what abt of them expected, but that’s okay, because they have eachother.