I Want The World(Harry Potter Various x Reader)

Chapter 2: The Sorting Hat Situation//Blood Lust In Potions Class

The sorting hat ceremony was about the least exciting thing you'd ever had to bear witness to. The hat sang an annoying song that you tuned out in favor of glancing around the room and assessing the various people who caught your eye. A pair of ginger twins at the Gryffindor table(Weasleys?), a handsome brunette boy at the Hufflepuff table, a scary-looking boy with bad teeth at the Slytherin table. Nothing particularly interesting.

Draco elbowed your side when the hat finally stopped singing, and you begrudgingly turned your attention back to the ceremony. The first person was called up to the hat, a Hannah Abbott, and she was sorted into Hufflepuff. Draco snickered beside you. "Bet you anything that all the ugly ones get into Hufflepuff or Gryffindor." Right as he said this, a rather unpleasant-looking girl named Millicent was sorted into Slytherin. He winced. "I was wrong."

Draco was called up, and you wished him luck as he walked up to the hat. Sure enough, the hat barely brushed his head before it yelled out, "Slytherin!" You smiled and clapped as he pridefully walked to the green and silver table. You felt someone's eyes on you, and you looked to your right to see Weasley and Harry standing about 20 feet away, Weasley watching you with an angry expression. Clearly, he was still sore over earlier.

Amused, you stared back at him and smiled condescendingly. His scowl intensified. Your eyes bore into his, and eventually he went red and broke eye contact, giving you a withering look before turning back to Harry. Satisfied, you turned back to the ceremony. Soon enough, your name was called. Your heart rate began to pick up speed. This is what you'd been practicing for. Time for a good first impression.

Your pace wasn't rushed, nor was it too slow. Your head was held high, eyes straight ahead, posture perfect as it could be. Your expression was calm, but cold. Aware, but uninterested. Maybe it was your strangely mature behavior, or the way you ignored everyone around you like they weren't even there, or just the fact that you were an eleven year old in lipstick, but there was something that caused every person you passed to looked at you. All eyes were on you. You had the floor. You owned the floor. This was what true power looked like.

You concealed your smirk as you turned to face the crowd, noting the intrigued looks directed your way. You put the hat on, and sat down. The hat began to talk almost immediately. "Hmm..interesting. Such a dark mind for such a young age...smart enough, but not particularly drawn to the pursuit of knowledge. Not enough curiosity or wonder. Not a Ravenclaw. Weak sense of loyalty, and too ruthless, so not a Hufflepuff. But a surprising amount of bravery..hmm, no. There's no mistaking that ambitious. You're a cunning soul. That settles it. Better be...SLYTHERIN!"

You let out a sigh of relief, and stood up, laying the hat on the chair, and strode off towards the Slytherin table as it's inhabitants cheered and the twins from Gryffindor booed at you, which you ignored. You sat down next to Draco, who smiled proudly. "Just wait til my father hears that I'm in Slytherin. He said he had no doubt I would get into it, and he was right. The hat said it right as I sat down! Did you see it, (Y/n)?" You smiled patiently at the excited boy. "Yes, Draco. Good job." He flashed a cocky grin, and turned to talk to his lackeys.

Your attention was brought back to the sorting ceremony when Harry Potter's name was called. You had no doubt in your mind that he would be in Gryffindor, but you watched anyway. Sure enough, he got Gryffindor, and the whole house cheered. "We got Potter!" The rude twins from earlier yelled. You felt a jolt of jealousy. Why should he get all the praise? He was a baby. A stupid little baby. He didn't even really do anything and they treat him like a king. One day, the house of Slytherin shall cheer for me like that. I'll have them on their knees.

Your dark thoughts were interrupted when the sound of an old mans voice hit your ears. You looked up. Albus Dumbledore. The ceremony had presumably ended. The old man said a few strange words(he seemed rather nutty for a respected wizard), and then food appeared on the table. You began to fill your plate, attempting to tune out the loudness and the claustrophobia of it all.