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The sight of the castle, so obviously old but brimming with so much magic, so much power, was breathtaking and Harry almost forgot about how skeptical of this whole thing he was.
It seemed like something straight out of a fairytale, with all this talk of toads and broomsticks and wands. For his entire life he had assumed there was just some unnamed thing different about him that allowed him to do things other human beings couldn’t. He had resigned himself to the thought that he would probably never know exactly what it was, but he had been slowly learning to harness it himself. Now, here he was with about 40 other children his age with the same abilities as him about to start their first year at the boarding school that would teach them transfiguration rather than English and potions instead of science. It was utterly baffling.
He hadn’t really been, before, but as every one around him began earnestly dumping their opinions about houses on him, he was starting to feel worried. And frankly, overwhelmed.
It seemed like every wixen on the face of this earth had a different view on the house system, and they were absurdly determined to tell him it. The redhead on the train told him Slytherins were evil, and the blonde at the robes stores told him Slytherins were the only good wizard, but the nice man at Diagon Alley, which he had been visiting occasionally, who ran the ice cream shop told him Slytherins were just determined to get ahead, and that that could manifest itself in many ways.
Some people spoke with dejection about how they were probably headed to Hufflepuff, but the books he read said Hufflepuff’s were hard workers that had an affinity for healing that sometimes manifested itself into being a Herbology prodigy. Some called Ravenclaw’s stuffy know-it-alls and teacher’s pets, but from the few he had met at the bookshops it seemed they just wanted to learn all they could, and that they often didn’t care if their school work suffered when they found more interesting subjects.
And then there was Gryffindor.
The house of the brave. The house of his parents. And the house of people that reminded him rather unfavorably of Pier’s Polkiss.
Oh, they could very well be a stand up lot, but Harry had little interest in the way they operated. It seemed that as soon as a Gryffindor had an opinon, the whole world knew it, and Harry knew how dangerous that could be. It was far better to operate from the shadows, to leave people guessing as to if your movements betrayed your true feelings. Maybe Gryffindor could offer him the cover he needed for that, but it was likely that trick would get old quickly once it was discovered he didn’t behave like most of the lions.
So it was with a single thought in his mind that Harry sat on a stool in front of the entirety of who would become his new school-mates and placed a raggedy old hat on his head.
“I would prefer not to be placed in Gryffindor, if you don’t mind.”
He had to refrain from jumping as a voice spoke in his mind. He wasn't sure exactly what he had veen expecting, but a telepathic hat wasn't it.
No, I would rather think Gryffindor an odd fit for you, child. But the other three houses- Oh yes, they all seem promising. Tell me, any thoughts as to where you would like to be placed?
Harry mulled the idea over, and was just about to decide to be sorted based on whatever color he liked best when an idea occurred to him.
“If I’m placed in Slytherin, everyone will think me the next Dark Lord, won’t they?”
Why do you assume that? The hat asked, but he sounded faintly amused from where his voice bounced off the walls of his mind.
“Well, I defeated the last one didn’t I? Besides Slytherin’s get far too much scrutiny. I don’t want to have to watch my every move for risk of everyone thinking I’m evil. And Hufflepuff’s seem nice and would probably offer a good cover, but I feel most of them would be morally against the kind of life my family lives. Ravenclaw would offer the perfect cover for anything I research, and they likely would care the least besides Slytherins if I was researching something ‘dark’”
Well reasoned, the hat thought, and it rather sounded like he would be laughing if he was capable. For that reason, better be...
“RAVENCLAW”
The last word was shouted for the whole school to hear and Harry walked to the table of blue and bronze to a somewhat shocked but fairly warm reception. He flopped into a random empty chair towards the center of the table, and turned to watch the rest of the sorting when he heard a voice on his right.
“Hello Mr. Potter, and welcome to Ravenclaw.” He turned and saw an older looking boy with an air of authority about him, and saw that he did indeed have a small blue pin on his outer robes proclaiming him to be a prefect.
“Thank you,” he answered, shaking the offered hand in a grip his uncle would be proud of. “I’m sorry, but I didn’t seem to catch your name?”
“Didn’t offer it,” the boy said easily. “Micheal Dirvin, I’m a seventh year prefect, so feel free to come to me if you have any questions about the castle or the likes. You can usually find me in the library, though the same is often true of the rest of our house.”
“I assumed so,” Harry said with a dry laugh. Dirvin returned it with a smile. “Thank you for the offer.”
“Of course,” he nodded. There the conversation ended as the sorting finished and the Headmaster stood up to give a rather interesting speech. Harry already could see the looks on the faces of the children across the room, some brightened with challenge or adventure, some curious, and some resigning themselves to keeping their friends out of trouble when it was announced the school had implemented some sort of death hallway, and thought that maybe this school year was going to interesting after all.
He thought he felt rather at home, as he noticed the few students at his table trying to read as discreetly as possible under the table and the way many were staring off into space with an almost glazed look in their eyes that meant they were mentally somewhere far away from the Headmaster’s speech, likely recounting some tale they had recently read or thinking about their renewed (for the older students, at least) access to the wonderful library he had heard mentioned throughout various books on the school.
Maybe, he thought, allowing himself a slight amount of innocent child-like wonder at the literally magical new world he found himself in, he would make friends here. Real friends.
As long as they didn’t interfere with his plans to advance his magic, he rectified, maturity slamming down on him like a brick wall.
And if the way the other eleven year olds were giving each other glances an uneasy smiles across the table was anything to go by, this was a sentiment echoed through the house.