The Sorting Hat laughed. Oh, goodness me, no. He would have thought your compassion was a weakness. The man was not a blood purist as history portrays him – though he hated Muggles passionately – but he was a stone cold sociopath who hated altruism with a burning passion. But what we say we want and what we actually want are not always the same thing. A lesson, perhaps, for you in future years, Mr. Potter. In the meantime, go forth and help redeem the house of "SLYTHERIN!"
Gasps openly filled the room. My sorting had thrown everyone completely for a loop. Some people looked as if the end times were nearing and that made me very, very angry. People should not judge a child based on what school house he went into. The very idea was absurd and I would put an end to it. By the time I graduated, I'd change everyone's minds. I vowed it there and then. They'd just have to suck it up and deal with their so called savior going into Slytherin. Whatever it took, I would do it.
"A Potter in Slytherin," a blond girl drawled. "Quite the unexpected turn of events." She turned and looked over at Hermione. "Though no less unexpected than a Muggleborn, I suppose."
"Who might you be?" I asked politely.
The girl cracked a smile. "Yes, of course, I forgot you're not aware. Daphne Greengrass, good to meet you." We shook hands. Nearby, Draco looked like he was going to have steam pouring out his ears any second now.
"Nice to meet you too, Daphne," I said. "Don't tell anyone I told you this, but I'm not going to be the last surprise of the day."
People started to ask me all sorts of questions. Questions about the Muggle world, about how I managed to defeat Voldemort, what exactly my ambitions were. I answered them all to the best of my ability, even the ones that annoyed me in the extreme. It didn't pay to burn any bridges on the very first day.
Before I knew it, the time for Ron to be called up had arrived. Ron was trembling in fear, but I gave him an encouraging thumbs up and he steeled his courage enough to make his way up to the hat. Maybe in another life he would have made an excellent Gryffindor. Me? I can't imagine being in that house. It wasn't as if I had anything against them, per se – it's just that they were so boisterous. I like peace and quiet.
"SLYTHERIN!" the hat roared in mere seconds and I let out a cry of pure excitement, prompting an angry look from Deputy Headmistress McGonagall.
Ron made his way to our table, but he looked miserable, and sneaking a peek at the Gryffindor table allowed me to realize why. His brothers did not look happy. In particular, his Prefect brother Percy looked downright furious and disgusted. In that moment, I hated all of them with a burning passion. What did it matter what colors a person wore or what people they lived with? All that mattered was what was in their heart. And if they thought Ron had somehow become a bad person – or been one all along – just because he was in a different house than them, then they didn't know him at all. They didn't deserve Ron Weasley.
"Congrats, mate," I said, slapping Ron hard on the back as he sat down at the table. "We're going to do great things here."
"It didn't even hesitate," Ron said quietly. I was unsure whether he was proud or disturbed by this statement and I knew for certain he wasn't sure either. "Well, I'm here now. Let's make the most of it, right?"
Daphne raised an eyebrow. "I'm presuming you have some sort of scheme in mind?"
"I do indeed, Daphne," I said with a winning smile. "I'm going to redeem Slytherin's reputation if it's the last thing I do. I could have gone into Gryffindor," a lie, but she didn't need to know it, "but that'd be easy. And I don't believe in doing things easy."
Daphne gave a huge grin that seemed jarring on her previously stoic face. "Neither do I."
"You don't belong here," Draco snarled. "None of you."
"Try and stop me, Draco," I said pleasantly. "I dare you." I wasn't scared of this moron. I'm not often scared of anyone, but especially someone who didn't even know about skyscrapers.
I cast my eyes over at the staff table, looking for Professor Sinistra, our head of house. She turned out to be a ludicrously old woman, though looking rather sprightly for a woman who made McGonagall look like, well, my age. She seemed like she was dotty and flighty, but I could sense it was an act. Sinistra was as sharp as a tack; I knew it in my bones. I just hope she wouldn't live up to her name.
.....
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