Chapter Text
Chapter 1: The Sorting
A/N: This fanfiction has been written out of pure pleasure, I am not expecting people to instantly enjoy it, but if you do, thank you! One more thing, I don’t own any of the Harry Potter Characters or Canon storylines. I only own Created Characters and storylines made for this fanfiction. Enjoy!!
A tall, stern-looking witch stood in a big archway Draco assumed was the entrance to the entrance hall. She had emerald-green robes on, and was standing in a tight posture.
“I’ll take them from here, thank you Hagrid,” the witch said through a thick Scottish accent.
She pulled the door wide to reveal the entrance hall. It was huge. Even Draco was surprised, considering he had lived in a mansion his whole life. It was big enough to fit most of the smallest rooms of the Malfoy manor, with space to spare. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches, the ceiling was too big to make out, and there was a marble staircase leading up to the higher floors.
The first years were led past huge wooden double doors, embellished with golden symbols, Draco couldn’t understand. There was excited commotion coming from behind the doors, Draco thought that must be where the Great Hall was. The witch led the first years into a chamber off the side of the Great Hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer than they usually would have done, peering about nervously. This gesture made Draco feel rather sick, he hated tight spaces. His father would keep him locked in tiny cells in the basement of the manor. This kind of punishment would have been issued for any association that went against the family beliefs; for example, if he had tried to read a book on muggle life or practising charms that would prevent the use of dark spells. Those spells of course were conjured with a practice wand in which underage wizards were allowed to use, to get ahead in their studies.
“Welcome to Hogwarts, you will address me as Professor Mcgonagall.” The witch said. “The start-of-term banquet will start shortly, but before you can be seated, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. Your house will be like your family within Hogwarts.”
Draco already knew what house he would be in. His family had been in Slytherin for as long as he had known. It was custom for most pure-blood families, with hundreds of years of pure-blood wizards to be sorted into Slytherin. Draco couldn’t remember the last time even a half-blood wizard was sorted into Slytherin.
“The sorting ceremony will begin shortly, I suggest you smarten yourselves up.”
She looked at a clumsy black-haired boy’s cloak, which was hanging off his shoulders. She then looked at a red-haired boy, probably a Weasley Draco thought. He had a black smudge on his nose. He obviously had noticed Professor Mcgonagall looking at him, as he flushed a violent shade of red, and started rubbing his nose profusely. Draco kind of felt bad for him, as he would be very embarrassed if that was him. That guilt quickly faded, his father had taught him not to feel bad for people, especially Weasleys. They were considered the runt of the pure-blood families. They were a heavily light pure-blood family, and were also considered blood-traitors.
Professor Mcgonagall left the chamber quietly. Draco could hear his heart thumping rapidly, he wanted to please his father by being sorted into Slytherin. He wasn't sure if his father would be disappointed if he was sorted into Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff, however his father would probably be livid if he was a Gryffindor. Gryffindor was a sworn enemy of the
Slytherins, knowing his father, would definitely disown him.
“How exactly do they sort you into your houses?” Draco heard someone say.
“My brother Fred said it was some sort of test. He also said it hurts alot but I think he was joking.” The Weasley boy spoke.
Just then something unexpected happened. There were lots of gasps as about twenty ghosts streamed through the back wall. The ghosts were pearly-white and slightly transparent. They glided across the room, hardly looking at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying, “Forgive and forget, we ought to give him another chance-”
“My dear Friar, haven’t we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he is not really a ghost- I say what are you doing here?”
A ghost wearing a ruff and tights suddenly noticed the first-years. Nobody answered the ghost, they were all too nervous of the sorting to talk.
“New students!” said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. “I hope to see you in my former house. Hufflepuff!”
“Please move along now ghosts,” Professor Mcgonagall had obviously returned. “Please form a line, and follow me.”
Legs feeling slightly like jelly, Draco got into line behind a bushy haired girl. The first-years walked back out into the hall and were made to stand in front of the large wooden doors they had passed earlier. The doors opened by themselves and they walked straight through them.
The Great Hall was lit by thousands of candles that were floating above four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. All of the tables were laid with golden goblets and plates. Draco noticed a fifth table, it was standing at the top of the hall, the occupants of this table were the teachers. Professor Mcgonagall led them up here, so they came to a halt line facing the students, the teacher sat behind them. The ceiling was littered with glittering stars, dotted on a velvety black sky. He heard the bushy-haired girl whisper, “It’s bewitched to look like the sky outside, I read it in Hogwarts: A History.”
Professor Mcgonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of the first-years. On top of the stool she placed a tatty old wizard’s hat. It was extremely patched and frayed at the edges. Everyone was looking at the hat- a rip had appeared in one of the folds near the brim. It spread wide like a smile and began to sing:
‘Oh, you might not find me pretty,
But don’t judge on what you see,
I’ll eat myself if you can find
A better hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I am the hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There is 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,
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
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 am a Thinking Cap!
The whole hall burst into applause as the Sorting Hat finished its last words. Draco noticed however, the Slytherins were sitting at their table hunched over scowling.
Professor Mcgonagall stood forward with a long roll of parchment clutched in her hands.
“When I call your name, you will place the hat on your head and sit down on the stool to be sorted,” she said. “Abbott,Hannah!”
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell over her eyes, and sat down. A moment's pause-
“HUFFLEPUFF!” shouted the hat.
The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down at the Hufflepuff table.
“Bones, Susan!”
“HUFFLEPUFF!” the hat shouted again, and Susan scuttled off to sit next to Hannah.
“Boot, Terry!”
“RAVENCLAW!”
The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined them. Draco was feeling worried now; what if the hat sorted him into another house rather than Slytherin. He couldn't bear the thought of what his father would think if he wasn’t in Slytherin, he would be risking disownment. He knew his father loved him conditionally, but he still somewhat loved him and that is all that mattered to him.
“Brocklehurst, Mandy” went to Ravenclaw, but “Brown, Lavender” became the first Gryffindor and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Draco could see what he thought were the Weasley twins catcalling Lavender as she walked proudly to the Gryffindor table.
“Bulstrode, Millicent” became the first Slytherin.
“Finch-Fletchley, Justin!”
HUFFLEPUFF!”
Draco noticed sometimes it took a while before the hat decided on that person’s house, however sometimes it shouted it out at once.
“Finnigan, Seamus” sat on the stool for a whole minute before he was announced a Gryffindor.
“Granger, Hermione”
Hermione ran up to the stool and jammed on the hat eagerly.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
When Neville Longbottom, the boy that kept losing his toad, was called, he fell over on his way to the stool. The hat took a long time to decide with Neville. When it finally declared him a “HUFFLEPUFF,” Neville ran off still wearing it, and had to jog back amid gales of laughter to give it to “MacDougal, Morag”
Draco knew it was his turn next. Once his name was called he nervously walked up to the stool and pulled the hat on his head. The hat fell over his eyes, and he was met with an almost calming darkness.
“Hmm, what do we have here? Another Malfoy, I know just where to put you.” The hat sniggered, and spoke with a croaky voice, like a really old man. The hat seemed to know where Draco was meant to be so he rejoiced mentally knowing he was going to be put in Slytherin.
“GRYFFINDOR!”
Draco almost fainted. How could the heir of the most noble house of Malfoy possibly be sorted into Gryffindor. He sat there, troubled thoughts running through his head, totally lost in his thoughts. Only was he brought back to reality, when he felt a tap on his shoulder of Professor Mcgonagall ushered him off the seat, over to the Gryffindor table. There was no clapping this time, just awkward silence. Draco sat down at the far end of the table, away from anyone that wanted to ask how he was sorted into Gryffindor. It must have been a mistake, he couldn’t possibly be in Gryffindor.
When all the rest of the students were sorted into their houses Professor Mcgonagall rolled up the parchment, tucked the hat under her arm and walked away.
Albus Dumbledore rose to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms open wide, as if there was nothing that could please him more than seeing all of his students there. This felt all a little too much for Draco. He couldn't understand how anyone could be as happy as Dumbledore in his situation.
“Welcome!” he said. “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we start our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!”
He sat back down. Everyone cheered and clapped. Draco stared down at the empty gold plate in front of him, he realised he was actually starting to get hungry.
“Would you like potatoes?” He looked up to see a messy black-haired boy with glasses and emerald-green eyes, looking at him with a spoon full of potatoes in his hand.
“Umm..yes please,” Draco mumbled.
When he looked at the whole table, he realised the empty plates had been filled with all types of food: Roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, chips, Yorkshire puddings, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup and, for some strange reason, mint humbugs.
“That looks good,” said the ghost with the ruff, gloomy, watching the black-haired boy cut up his steak.
“Can’t you-?”
“I haven’t eaten for nearly five hundred years,”said the ghost. “I don’t need to,of course, but one does miss it. I don’t think I’ve introduced myself? Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower.”
“I know who you are!” said the Weasley boy suddenly. “My brothers told me about you- you’re Nearly Headless Nick!”
“I would prefer you to call Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-” the ghost began stiffly, but the sandy-haired Seamus Finnigan interrupted.
“Nearly Headless? How can you be Nearly Headless?”
Sir Nicholas looked extremely miffed, as if their little chat wasn’t going at all the way he wanted.
“Like this,” he said irritably. He seized his left ear and pulled. His whole head swung off his neck and fell on to his shoulder as if it was on a hinge. Someone had obviously tried to behead him, but not done it properly. Looking pleased at their stunned faces, Nearly Headless Nick flipped his head back on his neck, and said, “So- new Gryffindors! I hope you’re going to help us win the House Championship this year? Gryffindor has never gone so long without winning. Slytherin have gotten the cup six years in a row!
When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the food faded from the plates. A moment later the puddings appeared. Blocks of ice-cream, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate éclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, jelly, rice pudding….
“I’m really sorry, I forgot to introduce myself,” said the black-haired boy, turning to look at Draco, “I’m Harry, Harry Potter.”
“As in The Harry Potter?!” Draco stared at the boy. The boy lifted the messy hair covering his forehead, to reveal a lightning shaped scar just above his left eyebrow.
Draco saw Harry look over towards the High Table. Soon after he clasped a hand over his scar, and screwed up his face.
“Are you ok?” said Percy Weasley, one of the Gryffindor prefects.
“I’m fine,” Harry said. He looked alright now, but Draco wasn’t so sure.
At last the puddings disappeared too and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The Hall fell silent.
“Ahem - just a few 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.” His twinkling eyes flashed towards the Weasley twins.
“I have also been asked by Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that magic is not to use magic in the corridors. Also Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.” He took a long pause before continuing, “And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone that does not wish to die a very painful death.”
Draco heard Harry laugh, and he was amongst the very few that did.
“He’s not serious surely,” Draco asked Percy.
“Must be,” said Percy, frowning at Dumbledore. “It’s odd, because he usually gives us a reason why we are not allowed to go somewhere - the forest’s full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he would have told us Prefects, at least.”
“And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!” cried Dumbledore.
Dumbledore gave a little swish of his wand and a long golden ribbon flew out of the end. The ribbon rose high above the tables and twisted itself snake-like into words.
“Everyone pick their favourite tune,” said Dumbledore, “and off we go!”
And the school bellowed:
“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 are 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 till our brains all rot.”
Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the Weasley twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand, and when they had finished, he was one of those that clapped the loudest.
“Ah, music,” he said, wiping his eyes. “A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!”
The Gryffindor first-years followed Percy through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall and up the marble staircase. Draco looked at Harry, he saw that he looked very tired, his feet seemed to drag him along. Percy led them through hidden doorways and hanging tapestries. They climbed more staircases, until they came to a sudden halt.
A bunch of walking sticks were floating in mid-air ahead of them and as Percy took a step towards them, they started to throw themselves at him.
“Peeves,” Percy whispered to the first-years. “A poltergeist.”
He raised his voice, “Peeves - show yourself.”
A loud, rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.
“Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?”
There was a pop and a little man with wicked eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air, clutching the walking sticks.
“Oooooooh!” he said, with a clearly evil cackle. “Ickle firsties! What fun!”
He swooped suddenly at them. They all ducked.
“Go away, Peeves, or the Baron will hear about this, I mean it!” barked Percy.
Peeves stuck out his tongue and vanished, dropping the walking sticks on Neville’s head. They heard him zooming away, rattling coats of armour as he passed.
“You want to watch out for Peeves,” said Percy, as they set off again. “The Bloody Baron’s the only one that can control Peeves, he won’t even listen to us Prefects. Here we are.”
At the end of the corridor hung a portrait of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.
“Password?” she said.
“Caput Draconis,” said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a circular room full of squashy armchairs. Knowing a bit of latin from his mother and books in the Malfoy Library, Draco mentally translated the Gryffindor password: Dragon’s head. He smiled a bit at this. His full name: Draconis Lucius Malfoy, although barely anyone called him Draconis, he much preferred Draco, he finally realised what his name meant. He loved to find out what people’s names meant, he made a pact to himself to find out what the other Gryffindor boys' names mean.
Percy directed the boys to their dormitory, their trunks had already been brought up and were now at the end of their beds. Draco’s trunk looked really out of place here, it was a dark green with the Malfoy emblem on the front of it. The emblem was a shield bearing an M, with serpents encasing the outside.
The boys changed into their pyjamas, and climbed into their beds. Most of the boys were already asleep, but Draco was sitting in his bed, wondering what he was going to tell his parents. He was especially worried about his father, he knew his father would most definitely be enraged at his son, and most likely will disown him for being a blood traitor. Eventually he fell asleep, but it wasn't the greatest sleep. He didn’t feel as rested as he would have liked when he woke up the next morning.