The Cowardly Lion (Book 1)

3: Of Sorting Hats and Hogwarts Houses

Draco avoided Harry, who tried to approach him once they had arrived in Hogsmeade, but the Boy-Who-Lived finally stopped once Draco joined a four-person magical boat with Pansy Parkinson, a girl he knew he would probably end up in an arranged marriage with, Crabbe, and Goyle. The moment he sat down, completing the four-person boat, they began the journey, their path lit by Hagrid.

Seeing Hagrid reminded Draco of the first time he'd met Harry, and - no. There was no more Harry. There would just be Potter, after Draco was Sorted by that stupid hat into Slytherin...

Slytherins and Gryffindors were not friends. Draco knew that for a fact. He stood silently behind Professor McGonagall, listening to Hermione Granger prattle on about stupid spells. Spells! As if they needed them for a damned hat. Draco wanted to sneer, but then he looked at Harry, and he couldn't find it in him to make fun of Hermione's ignorance like Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy were all doing. Ron was saying something about a troll - likely, Draco thought, another story his brothers had fed him.

But Draco knew better - or, as he was thinking now, worse. Lucius Malfoy had sat him down the minute he turned eleven and explained what would happen, how the Great Hall, which had some silly sky enchantment on it, would be filled with four tables. The silver-and-emerald Slytherin table, with all the best wizards, as Lucius would say, the ones with pure blood; and then the Ravenclaws - annoying know-it-alls, Lucius had told Draco; the Hufflepuffs, the utter losers and the ones who shouldn't even really be allowed in Hogwarts, as they contributed absolutely nothing, and how they should leave...or so Lucius said; and finally, Gryffindor. Harry and Ron's future table and, as Lucius said, a bunch of idiotic, arrogant people who liked to think themselves heroes, but really they just all ended up dead. Slytherin, he'd reminded Draco, was the one they wanted. Slytherin was what they'd worked for. Slytherin was what Draco had always expected of himself.

So why did Draco suddenly doubt his future House?

Harry just looked pale and slightly sick. Draco averted his eyes, scolding himself for even looking at the black-haired boy.

First was Crabbe. Slytherin, as the Hat shouted nearly the minute it touched Crabbe's head. Of course. Then there was Goyle, who was another Slytherin. When Hermione Granger's name was called up, the Hat deliberated for a while. Draco's guess was Ravenclaw - that girl seemed to know so much. Ravenclaw. Draco cast a longing look towards the table of blue and bronze, wishing he could have the luxury of being in Ravenclaw.

But then the Hat shouted Gryffindor. Draco watched her walk towards the table of scarlet and gold, all cheering vigorously for her...would anybody cheer for him, should he be in a House other than Slytherin? Everyone from a wizarding family knew the Malfoy name.

Nobody would want him, and he didn't want to be in Slytherin.

But he couldn't leave; his father would murder him.

Next was the Neville boy, Neville Longbottom - oh. His parents...Aunt Bellatrix. Draco stared at the floor of the Great Hall, suddenly very much ashamed to be a Malfoy.

Gryffindor, amazingly, and then he ran off with the Hat still on his head, before sheepishly returning it after realizing he hadn't put it back. Draco found himself smiling at Longbottom's good fortune.

Morag MacDougal...oh, he was just awful. Even Draco's father thought so, and pretended he didn't know the MacDougal family, because half of them were in Azkaban.

And then it was Draco's turn. He could feel a stare on him, and turned back to find Harry's emerald eyes staring at his own grey ones. Draco shook his head silently, regretting turning back, and walked forwards, glad his back was turned to the rest of the Great Hall, so that this way, no one could see the silent tears sliding down Draco's cheeks.