Ambition, Resourcefulness, Cunning
Chapter 3: The Sorting Hat
In the doorway stood the elder dark-haired witch he had seen at Flourish & Blotts in Diagon Alley. She wore simple, yet elegant emerald green robes with a tall, black witch’s hat cocked to the side. She wore a stern expression as she looked out, assessing her new pupils.
She must be a Slytherin. She’s obviously sporting her House colors and anyone who can give a look like that…well, let’s just say Grandmother Druella wore one like that often.
She spoke momentarily to Hagrid, then turned her attention back to the crowd of children. She pivoted, motioning for them to follow her through the Entrance Hall which was grander than Draco remembered reading about in Hogwarts: A History.
Torches lined the walls and marble staircases moved around them that could rival those of Malfoy Manor. As they approached the Great Hall, a steady flow of chatter and voices echoed across the flagstones underfoot. They were ushered into a small, crowded room nearby and the woman began a “welcome speech”.
“Welcome to Hogwarts,” said Professor McGonagall. “The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room.”
“The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.”
“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.”
She looked over a few students towards the front, Draco couldn’t see who, but assumed at least one of them was that boy, Neville. At her urging, the students toward the front of the group straightened their ties and smoothed their clothes and hair.
“I shall return when we are ready for you,” said Professor McGonagall. “Please wait quietly.”
The children whispered nervously about the sorting. It appeared Draco and that Granger girl were the only two in their class to have bothered reading their texts prior to coming to Hogwarts. He heard a few outlandish suggestions at how they would be sorted. Weasley even suggested a painful test. Draco had to roll his eyes at that one. It wasn’t even imaginative.
Without warning, he felt an icy chill phase through him. Feeling over his chest in a panic, he looked down and saw that a ghost had flown right through his body!
“What the..!” The whole crowd was gasping and turning around looking at the grouping of twenty ghosts that had come straight through the wall behind them. They regarded the students momentarily while conversing with each other.
“New students!” Said the Fat Friar, smiling around. “About to be sorted, I suppose? I hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old house, you know.”
“Move along now,” Professor McGonagall had returned. “The Sorting Ceremony is about to start.”
The ghosts filtered into what Draco guessed was the wall to the Great Hall, and the Professor lined the students up and led them into the Hall.
As much as he had read about the magic of the Great Hall in Hogwarts: A History, Draco was still awestruck at the sight as he entered with his classmates. Thousands of floating candles danced above their heads, under the bewitched ceiling, and he couldn’t help but smile as he took it all in.
Draco’s mind was whirring: hoping for Ravenclaw, expecting Slytherin, dreading being a Gryffindor, and pleading not to be in Hufflepuff. He swore to himself if that stupid Fat Friar jinxed him by ghosting through him, he’d leave Hogwarts and never come back. Honestly, a Malfoy as a Hufflepuff? Never.
Professor McGonagall set up the beat up, old Sorting Hat on a wooden stool at the end of the hall and the First Years gathered in the center of the Hall. Draco sneered at the Hat sitting there—frayed and evidently covered in dirt and dust. There was no way that thing was going on his perfectly slicked back hair.
As if the Hat could sense Draco’s displeasure at its appearance, it twitched to life and 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 black,
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 of 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!”
Applause erupted through the Hall. Draco wasn’t quite sure why. It’s just a bloody hat that sang a few rhymes.
The Hall quickly quieted again and Professor McGonagall unrolled a long bit of parchment.
“When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott, Hannah!”
HUFFLEPUFF!
“Bones, Susan!”
HUFFLEPUFF!
Draco sighed inwardly. Too many Hufflepuffs for his liking. If there isn’t some variation soon, he would be doomed.
“Boot, Terry!”
RAVENCLAW!
Thank Merlin Draco thought.
“Brocklehurst, Mandy”
RAVENCLAW!
“Brown, Lavender!”
GRYFFINDOR!
And on it went. Draco was getting nervous as the sorting continued. Father will kill me if I’m anything less than a Slytherin but I don’t know what I want.
Millicent Bullstrode—Slytherin
Michael Corner—Ravenclaw
Stephen Cornfoot—Ravenclaw
Vincent Crabbe—Slytherin
Tracy Davis—Slytherin
Kevin Entwhistle—Ravenclaw
Seamus Finnigan—Gryffindor
Justin Finch-Fletchley—Hufflepuff
Gregory Goyle—Slytherin
Anthony Goldstein—Hufflepuff
Hermione Granger—
Ravenclaw. Has to be. Draco rolled his eyes as the young brunette bounced up to the chair nervously.
GRYFFINDOR!
…Didn’t see that one coming…
Daphne Greengrass—Slytherin
Wayne Hopkins—Hufflepuff
Megan Jones—Hufflepuff
Su Li—Ravenclaw
Neville Longbottom—Gryffindor
Morag MacDougal—Ravenclaw
Ernie Macmillan—Hufflepuff
Draco didn’t hear the next name get sorted as he was obviously coming up next. His heart was racing and beating out of his chest. Draco’s breathing became erratic and was on the verge of passing out internally. Externally he was cool and very in control.
“Malfoy, Draco!” Draco held his chin high and plastered his signature smirk on tight. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the Slytherin table lean in with quiet whispers.
Draco walked for what seemed like forever, but was in reality maybe twenty steps or so. As he turned to face the entire student body, McGonagall raised the Sorting Hat and moved to place it on his head.
“Hmmm…I thought you would be an easy placement Mr. Malfoy. I see I was wrong…”
Draco felt his spine stiffen
What is that supposed to mean? Are you reading my mind?
“Yessss,”the Hat purred. “Very intriguing. Very intellectual and clever,”
Ravenclaw perhaps? Draco offered hopefully.
“Ahhh, yes, very resourceful of you, Young Malfoy,”
No. Please no. I’m not like them.
“Oh, but you are…”
SLYTHERIN!
Draco looked around as McGonagall lifted the old hat off his head. The conversation between himself and the Sorting Hat seemed to go on for minutes but from the cheers at the Slytherin table, it couldn’t have been more than a second or two.
Disappointed shadowed across Draco’s face for but a mere moment and was gone—buried deep to assess later perhaps. He quickly replaced the emotion with a mask of indifference and swaggered to his new housemates.
Crabbe and Goyle made room for Draco on their end of the bench, next to the other newest Slytherins. He sat and turned his face toward the rest of the sorting, lest anyone see his disappointment.
Eloise Midgen—Gryffindor
Lily Moon—Slytherin
Theodore Nott—Slytherin
Pansy Parkinson—Slytherin
Padma Patil—Ravenclaw
Parvati Patil—Gryffindor
Sally-Anne Perks—Gryffindor
“Potter, Harry!” Gasps and whispers broke out around the four tables. Even the professors at the Head Table exchanged nervous and excited glances. Draco noticed, however that Hagrid was beaming down at Potter and Dumbledore himself was much more interested than he had been the entire Sorting so far.
Potter’s sorting took a few minutes. He appeared to be arguing with the hat judging by his frown. Draco glowered, hoping that if he couldn’t have his chosen house, then neither would Potter. It was petty, he knew, but Draco couldn’t help but feel every bit as boyish as his age demanded of him. He was only eleven and so was Harry-stinking-Potter. Why should Potter get everything he wanted when he had been nothing but distasteful toward Draco—who had only ever tried to befriend him.
GRYFFINDOR!
You’ve got to be joking. This is absolutely rigged. How unfair could life at Hogwarts be if Draco was stuck as a villain because of his family, and dear Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived will no doubt become the Golden Boy.
Draco was fuming. He knew the kind of reputation Slytherins often assumed at Hogwarts as well as the Gryffindors. He barely heard any of the rest of the names, though it didn’t appear to matter as only the last boy from their group on the train was chosen to join the table of snakes.
Sophie Roper—Gryffindor
Sally Smith—Ravenclaw
Zacharias Smith—Hufflepuff
Dean Thomas—Gryffindor
Lisa Turpin—Ravenclaw
Ron Weasley—Gryffindor
Blaise Zabini—Slytherin
Professor McGonagall rolled up the parchment and the Sorting Ceremony came to a close. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore stood, clapping his wrinkled hands together and decided to “say a few words” which only puzzled and annoyed Draco to no end:
“Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!”
With a huff all Draco could think about was how his father was so overly correct in his assessment of the “old fool”. Clearly, this school year would be a joke with that relic running things. Leaning with his chin in one palm, Draco rolled his eyes and waited for the feast to actually begin. It only took a second or two for Pansy and Daphne to start chittering away—their voices blending into the thrum of students excitedly introducing themselves to their new housemates and catching up with old friends.
The gilded golden dishes on the long table before them filled with a wide variety of food and the goblets filled themselves with water and pumpkin juice.
The House Elves. Draco thought to himself.
Draco tried to snap out of his foul mood as Blaise & Theodore sat across from him and tried to make conversation. They both spoke somewhat timidly at first, seeming to be unsure of Draco’s temperament. He didn’t blame them, his father’s reputation was world-renowned as short-tempered and severe. Draco gave a polite smile of interest to encourage the conversation.
Blaise had been living in Italy with his mother and her latest husband. It seems they acquired their wealth through her many marriages through the years. He told them all about the villa they currently lived in with a large veranda just out his bedroom door that opened to the vineyards. He spent the entire summer sampling the various wines with his older step-brother, Thaddeus.
Theodore, or Theo rather, lived with his father on the Nott Estate. He didn’t seem to care to talk about his home life much, but he had something relatively humorous to say about everything. Draco and Theo had been friends once—their mothers setting up playdates, often when their fathers were off together on work trips. When Theo’s mother died around age six, Draco never saw him again. Now, at eleven years old, they were practically strangers again.
I should really try to spend time with him this year. He was always rather brilliant and clearly he’s down for causing some trouble.
The conversation began to wane as their stomachs filled to the brim, and Draco’s attention was turned toward the Head Table and the professors sitting along it. He noticed a familiar-looking man with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. He couldn’t quite remember the man’s name but knew he had dealings with his father some time ago.
Noticing the direction of his gaze, an older student—Marcus Flint—motioned with a mouth full of half-chewed food, “Thas Professor Snape, head of Slytherin house, jus there,”
Draco grimaced at the other boys table manners but nodded in appreciation at the new information.
Snape. That sounds familiar.
He noticed the Slytherin Head of House turn his own gaze to none other than Potter, himself. He looked intently at the boy, sizing him up with deep interest.
Now this is just excessive. Doesn’t ANYONE care that the MALFOY HEIR is here?!
Draco knew his ego was rather inflated about his family’s standing in life, but he couldn’t help but be irrational about the attention Potter was getting. And they’d only just arrived! Was this what life was going to be like from now on?
Before they realized how late it had gotten, the feast had ended and the empty dishes vanished from the table. Dumbledore stood one again, and stroked his long white beard as he cleared his throat to speak.
“Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.
“First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well.
“I have also been asked by Mr Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
“Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
“And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.”
At the last bit, many First Years began to awkwardly chuckle, but the faces of the older students told them it was indeed not a joke. Draco cocked a brow to Blaise and Theo who were also intrigued by the threat. They all had grown up in families where threats were often more like dares—as long as you didn’t get caught, that is.
Draco didn’t pay much mind to most of the announcements, all he needed to hear was when Quidditch trials were to be. Now to find this Madam Hooch and schmooze his way around the rules. If his family name couldn’t earn him an exception, then perhaps he could try to sweet talk her after a lesson or two from Theo—he seemed to have it down pretty well.
The old coot then had the whole school sing some ridiculous song. Draco was embarrassed for everyone who actually sang, except perhaps Theo who seemed to be whole-heartedly enjoying himself while mocking the entire school. Similarly the Weasley twins appeared to be getting a rise of laughter from their housemates and even Dumbledore himself.
“Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts, Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald
Or young with scabby knees,
Our heads could do with filling With some interesting stuff,
For now they’re bare and full of air, Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing, Bring back what we’ve forgot,
Just do your best, we’ll do the rest, And learn until our brains all rot.”
The Headmaster then sent them all off to bed. Draco arose sluggishly from his seat and followed the throng of Slytherins trailing behind a rather glamorous auburn-haired witch. Her hair fell in soft vintage curls and were swept behind one ear.
“I’m Gemma Farley,” she called behind her, not checking to see if anyone was following behind her. The first year girls gathered behind her as if she was the Minister for Magic.
Most of the boys, himself included, fell in line in awe at how beautiful this older witch was. Her hips swayed as she sauntered around twists and turns and through various hallways and down stairs.
At last she stopped and they all turned to look around. It was a dead end to a bare stone wall. No door. Was she playing a prank on them? Draco wasn’t sure what to make of it. He knew they had to be in the dungeons, which according to Hogwarts: A History was where the entrance to the Slytherin common room was.
“Password is Polyjuice,” Gemma said, looking smug, as a faint entryway formed and the First Years gaped at the materialized door.
One by one, the young Slytherins pushed into the common room, not quite sure where to go next. Draco was mildly impressed. The common room appeared to have a greenish tint to the lighting. As he looked around, glancing over the green lamps and low-backed black leather furniture, he finally saw where the coloring was coming from. To his surprise, the entire left wall of the common room was a glass underwater window to the Black Lake.
“Password changes once a fortnight and will be posted on the bulletin board next to the door. Never share the password with any student outside of Slytherin. Girls to the right, boys to the left.”
With that, the Slytherin prefect left the new students to settle into their rooms.
“Hey Draco, think we’ll see the giant squi…” Theo began.
Just then the giant squid moved across the window, tentacles knocking against the glass as it pushed its way across—gliding through the dark, murky depths.
Most of the girls shrieked and squealed, whether in fright or excitement, Draco would never know, nor did he care. But he and Theo shared enthusiastic grins. They both had always had an interest in magical creatures, well Theo always did and forced Draco to listen to random facts about them growing up, but he always enjoyed his friends enthusiasm and just learning in general—regardless of the subject.
The girls hurried off to their dorms to the right and the boys followed the opposite hall to their dorms. They found their trunks had already been placed in their room at the foot of their beds. The room had five beds, two on each side and one straight ahead. The beds were made of dark, rich mahogany and topped with emerald green bedding and curtains hanging on all sides of each bed for privacy. There was a small matching nightstand next to the head of each sleep space, and large Persian rugs under each.
Finally letting exhaustion set in, the Slytherin boys each collapsed into their own beds and fell into nearly dreamless sleep.