Disclaimer: I do not own HP!

Summary: Harry Potter goes to his first year at Hogwarts and is sorted into Slytherin! He becomes best friends with Draco Malfoy, after a little bullying of course, and learns to stand up for himself in what he considers to be his new home. Snape is a git, naturally, until he finally sees the error of his ways, which won’t be for a while.

Chapter 1

Diagon Alley:

Harry Potter stared at the ground as the nice Madam Malkin bustled around him humming to herself. He wondered who that blonde haired boy had been.

When Harry had walked into the shop with Hagrid, his escort for the day, the boy had been waiting for his robes to be finished. He had asked Harry a question, but before he could answer a man that looked to be the boy’s father had taken him out of the shop.

Maybe he’d meet him at school.

King’s Cross, September 1st:

Harry sighed dismally as he sat in an empty compartment at the back of the train. Scared by the hustle and bustle of the immense crowd he had frantically searched for one.

The compartment was tucked into a small corner, and was half the size of the others of the train, but for Harry it worked perfectly.

Anxiously, he waited for someone to interrupt the peace and quite he had found, but as the train started to move and the hours passed no one came in.

Hogwarts:

Hogwarts was beautiful, a fairytale castle that Harry had only thought about in his dreams. With towers, battlements, banners flying in the wind, beautiful stain glass windows on one floor, regular on the next, it was something that Harry could not believe.

Stepping off the tiny boat with three other first years, Harry paused in place to gaze at the edifice in awe, his eyes blazing in the evening light.

Vaguely, he noticed the other first years stopping to do the same, their excited voices traveling in the wind.

Briefly, Harry turned his eyes from the castle to gaze at the grounds, which seemed to stretch on forever. Some part of it ended in what looked to be a forest, while another ended in a vast lake.

Truly, he had never seen a place this large.

“Come along, first years!” came the call of Hagrid, the biggest person that Harry had ever seen in his life.

When he had rescued him from that rickety old hut on a rock to bring him his Hogwarts letter and escort him to Diagon Alley, Harry had felt so tiny. He knew that he was shorter than average, but this man made him feel like a baby.

Harry dutifully followed the other first years, one of which was exclaiming, “the other wizarding schools were much more sophisticated than this one,” as they traipsed up to the front steps of the castle.

Standing before the front doors, which were even bigger than Hagrid, they waited as he knocked twice upon the door, the sound echoing in the still night.

As they waited, Harry looked down at his bright shiny new shoes, his first pair ever, and the worn steps below them.

Harry wondered how many other first years had stood in this exact same spot over the years.

Slowly, the doors opened, revealing a large chamber with several hallways leading off it.

As the first years walked into the chamber, Harry saw a very stern-looking witch with steel-gray hair pulled into a tight bun, dark brown eyes that seemed somehow soft when they glanced his way, and a face only partially lined with age, as if she reached middle age and decided to end the process there.

She, like the first years, was wearing black robes, which only made her seem much taller than the students.

Especially Harry.

“Now,” the witch stated. “I am Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, one of the four houses of Hogwarts.

In a moment, you will be sorted into either Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin.

Take heed and remember that your house will be your home for the next seven years.

Also, remember that it does not matter which house you will be sorted into, all houses are equal,” she finished sternly, eyeing the first years who were nodding emphatically, hoping that she had finished her lecture.

“Now, line up children. Make sure your robes are straight. Good? Follow me, then.” The witch opened another set of doors, which lead into a large hall packed with students.

There were four long tables that stretched from one end of the hall and ended in the head table, which held the professors of the school.

Harry, at the last of the line, followed the other first years as they walked down the middle aisle before stopping a few feet from the head table.

Eyes wide, Harry gazed at the candles floating in midair above each table, and then turned his eyes upward to gape at the ceiling.

He gasped in delight as he noticed that it looked exactly as the sky had looked outside.

“I heard that it is bewitched to reflect the current weather,” a girl was saying in a bossy voice.

“Wonder what that hat’s doing there?” a red head with far too many freckles pointed out. Harry stood on his tiptoes at that in an effort to see, but sadly, he was still too short to see anything.

Harry was about to ask one of the other first years to move when the entire hall suddenly quieted, as if told to by some invisible signal.

Harry swallowed nervously. Oh, goodness, here it comes. Everyone was staring, and he really could not take it.

Why doesn’t something happen?

Why…

Then someone started to sing. It was not a very loud voice or a good one either, just one suited for the purpose of singing in the Great Hall.

Harry strained his ears to make out all the words and discovered that it was talking about the houses.

He listened as best he could to attributes of each house and clapped along with the rest when the song ended.

Clearing her throat, Professor McGonagall snapped open a roll of parchment. “Let the sorting begin,” she declared somewhat dramatically, before reading the first name on the list.

“Abbot, Hannah!”

A tiny, but still bigger than Harry, blonde haired girl timidly scampered out of the middle of the first year cluster, her shoes making squeaking sounds on the stone floor, and clambered up onto an ancient worn stool.

Harry brushed his hands down his brand new robes nervously.

What was going to happen?

He watched as an equally ancient hat was plopped unceremoniously on her head, almost covering her eyes.

Craning his head around the cluster of first years, who were now whispering excitedly, Harry watched, squinting quite a bit with the effort, as the hat seemed to deliberate.

After a long moment, the brim on the hat opened wide, shouting “HUFFLEPUFF!”

A table nearby burst into riotous applause, while the rest of the hall offered up almost mild applause for the first year.

As soon as the hat was removed from her head, Hannah stumbled over to the table, where she was received merrily by the other Hufflepuffs.

And so the sorting went.

After a time, the crowd thinned enough that Harry could stand up straight and watch as MacMillan, Ernie was sorted along with the rest.

He dreaded when it would be his turn.

What if the hat did not sort him?

What if he was not good enough for the school?

What if they had made a mistake by sending him all those letters?

What if…?

“Potter, Harry.”

Distantly, Harry noticed that the entire hall had gone silent. Nervously, he broke out into a cold sweat. It was his turn.

Taking a few steps forward, he looked up into the eyes of the stern professor. Somewhat impatiently, she motioned for him to hurry up, so he clambered up onto the footstool.

That was a bad idea, really, because now he could see the hundreds of pairs of eyes that were staring at him. Then they disappeared into darkness as the hat covered his head.

“Hmmm,” a voice sounded in his ears, nearly making him fall off the stool in fright.

“Let’s see what we have here.”

“Um, excuse me?” Harry asked timidly. “But, who are you?”

“Who am I?” the hat asked in an offended tone. “Why, I just sang a song, that took me a whole year to compose by the way, telling you exactly who I am and what I do.”

Harry swallowed and attempted to placate the Sorting Hat. “Well, you see…I was kind of nervous. And I listened to it, but I did not really understand what you had to do with it.”

“Well,” the hat sniffed. “I suppose that is all right then,” the hat said in a comforting tone.

“I am the Sorting Hat. I was given this job by Godric Gryffindor, one of the four founders, shortly after the school opened.”

“Wow,” Harry said, impressed. “You’ve been alive for a really long time.”

The hat sniffed. “Of course. Now, let us see where I should put you.”

Suddenly, Harry saw memories begin to flash before his eyes. He saw the time when he was really little and he was locked outside in the rain during Dudley’s fourth birthday party.

He saw the first time his uncle used the belt…

The first time he used his fists…

On and on it went until Harry was practically gasping for air. Soothingly, the hat hugged him close, sending waves of warmth through his mind and relaxing him little by little.

“I am sorry child. I did not, for a second, think that it would frighten you so badly. Now,” the hat said softly.

“I promise my brim is closed. I will not tell anyone of your past unless you wish it, alright?”

Harry nodded, eyes squeezed shut in an effort to ignore the pain those memories evoked.

Alright then,” the hat stated, cheerful once more. “Let’s see. Hufflepuff would not be a good place for you, I fear. You are loyal to a fault, but it is not your primary quality.

Hmmm…Ravenclaw would be a good choice, if you thirsted for knowledge sunrise to sunset. No, not for you, eh?

Maybe Gryffindor with all its’ bravery? No, you do not recklessly run headlong into danger.

Then there is Slytherin. Do not be fooled by what you have heard, Slytherin is a home to all who need it. And I must say that I can see many qualities in you that Salazar Slytherin prized in his students. What do you say?”

Harry blinked, surprised. “You mean I would fit in there?” he asked incredulously.

The hat chuckled.

“I dare say you would! So, let it be SLYTHERIN!”

In the silence following those words, Harry looked up into the face of Professor McGonagall, who had removed the hat and looked shocked beyond belief.

Harry vaguely noticed that no one clapped for him, and as the whispers began to rise he felt the dull flush of shame creeping onto his face.

“Ma’am,” he asked tentatively. “Where do I sit?”

As soon as she pointed to a table against the far wall, Harry made his way quickly to it, his legs shaking.

When he finally collapsed into an empty set next to the other first years, no one spoke to him.

Harry looked down at the empty gold plate in front of him and wanted to cry.

Maybe Hogwarts would not be his home after all.

End Chapter 1!

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