Slytherins & Escape

With gusto, the Sorting Hat started its song:

Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's 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,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

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'm a Thinking Cap!

Thunderous applause erupted in the Great Hall, but Harry felt more relief than excitement. He'd feared he might have to perform some embarrassing task like pulling a rabbit out of a hat instead of simply wearing it. Even so, he would have preferred not to be the center of attention with hundreds of eyes watching his every move.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward with her usual crisp authority and began calling names. One by one, students approached the stool, placed the hat on their heads, and awaited its decision. For some, the hat barely grazed their hair before announcing their house, while others sat for minutes in silent deliberation.

Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones were sorted into Hufflepuff amid warm applause. Crabbe and Goyle—those two hulking boys Harry remembered from the train—predictably went to Slytherin. Harry noticed that the cheers for them were notably quieter then for the other houses. He began to wonder if Slytherin might be as unpleasant as Hagrid had hinted.

When Hermione Granger was sorted into Gryffindor, Harry silently crossed that house off his list of preferences.

Finally, McGonagall called out, "Greengrass, Daphne!"

Daphne stepped forward, her face a mask of calm, though Harry noticed her hands trembled slightly as she sat on the stool. He watched intently, curious and anxious about where she might end up.

The Sorting Hat took only seconds before shouting, "SLYTHERIN!"

The hall erupted into applause, but it was far more subdued than for the previous houses. Daphne, unconcerned, walked back with measured grace to the Slytherin table.

Harry felt a pang of unease. His only acquaintance among the students—his almost-friend—had gone to the very house he wanted to avoid. His discomfort deepened when Draco Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin mere seconds after the hat touched his head. Malfoy strutted to the table, his smug grin aimed squarely at Harry.

Then it was Harry's turn.

"Potter, Harry!"

The hall exploded with whispers. Harry's legs felt like lead as he stumbled forward. Sitting on the stool, the Sorting Hat dropped over his eyes, plunging him into darkness.

"Hmm," said a voice in his head. "Difficult. Very difficult. There's courage here, yes—a willingness to protect those you care about. A sharp mind, too. Talent. Oh, and a strong drive to prove yourself. Fascinating! Now, where to put you?"

The hat hesitated.

"Perhaps Slytherin? The girl you're thinking of is there already. Slytherin could make you great, you know. You have the potential for greatness, and Slytherin will help you achieve it. But…"

The voice softened.

"Slytherin could also bring hardship. Pain. A lonely road, perhaps. Gryffindor, on the other hand… your parents' house. They'd be proud of you there, no doubt."

At the mention of his parents, Harry's heart ached. He imagined walking the same halls they had, sitting where they once had. It felt like a fragile connection to a family he'd never truly known. But it was just that—a weak substitute for the life he'd lost. His parents were gone. No house could bring them back.

The hat seemed to sense Harry's conflict.

"Well, I see where you long to belong," it said finally. "Better be… SLYTHERIN!"

The word rang through the hall, followed by a stunned silence.

When the hat was lifted, Harry saw hundreds of faces staring at him, some with shock, others with suspicion. No one clapped. His legs felt unsteady as he rose and made his way to the Slytherin table, the oppressive silence pressing down on him.

Halfway there, a single pair of hands began clapping from the staff table. Harry turned to see Dumbledore, his blue eyes twinkling with something between encouragement and sorrow. Slowly, others joined in, and by the time Harry reached the table, applause filled the hall though the murmur of voices persisted.

Daphne was clapping, too, her expression neutral but her gaze steady. Harry slid into a seat next to an older boy who introduced himself as Richard May.

Malfoy, several seats away, sat near a ghost with a cloak stained in silvery blood, looking disgruntled. Harry took some satisfaction in that.

The rest of the sorting passed in a blur. Ron Weasley went to Gryffindor, predictably, and Blaise Zabini joined Slytherin, taking the seat beside Harry with a friendly smile.

After Dumbledore's eccentric speech consisting mostly of nonsensical words like "Nitwit" and "Blubber", the feast began. Harry marveled at the endless spread of food, sampling everything until he thought he might burst.

He struck up a conversation with Blaise, who told him about his Italian heritage and his mother's remarriage to a British wizard. The two boys bonded over a shared interest in Quidditch, with Blaise eagerly explaining the rules using bits of cutlery as props.

Finally, Dumbledore dismissed the students, cautioning them to avoid a particular corridor unless they wished for "a painful death." The cryptic warning left Harry more puzzled than alarmed.

Following the Slytherin prefects, the first-years descended into the dungeons and entered their common room through a hidden door in the stone wall. The room glowed with an eerie green light, its windows looking out into the depths of the Black Lake.

Harry said goodnight to Daphne, who headed to the girls' dormitory, and followed Blaise up the boys' staircase. Their room had five beds, each with green silk covers and silver embroidery. Draco Malfoy, predictably, claimed the largest, most ornate bed for himself. Harry and Blaise took the remaining two without complaint.

Too tired to argue or worry about Malfoy, Harry changed into his pajamas and sank into the softest bed he'd ever known. The gentle sound of water lapping against the windows lulled him to sleep.

He didn't see Draco signaling the other boys or the glint in his eye as he looked toward Harry. If he had, his dreams might not have been so peaceful.

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