I want to thank prone2dementia(From FanFiction.net), my new Beta for this story for being my own personal Grammar-Nazi. She helped smoothed the very rough edges from this story to make it a better read. Check out her story "Juxtaposition" a very interesting non-slash Harry/Voldemort story. On with the story!
Chapter 1
"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."
He briefly considered turning to Ron to see if he knew how they would be sorted, but then just decided to wait and see what would happen. To be honest he didn't really care where he was sorted-well, as long as it wasn't into Slytherin. The blond boy, Malfoy, seemed very sure he was to be sorted there. He reminded Harry too much of the Dursleys for his liking, though he couldn't see them getting along at all.
At the mere thought of the Dursleys, he shuddered. His relatives had never been kind to him in the least, but the last month had been intolerable. The Hogwarts letter revealed that the "older freaks" had insight into Harry's living conditions (aka the cupboard), so they had moved him into Dudley's old bedroom out of fear. However, that did not let him off the hook with his chores. If anything, they just made it worse by giving him an ever mounting list of chores as the days passed. They withheld food and limited water to a glass a day at one point, but gave him just enough so that he could continue to work. After all, who else would look after the yard and cook them breakfast?
Also, after he had returned from his trip to the alley with Hagrid, "Harry Hunting" had taken on a whole new meaning and vigor. That, coupled with his reduced diet and harder chore list, left him without his only real advantage in this contest: his speed and ability to avoid Dudley's Gang. As a result he had a good many bruises on his arms, back and chest. Most were almost gone thanks to his high healing rate, though even that was slowed down due to the lack of a normal food ration. He figured that if he was careful and showered later in the mornings for a few days, no one would notice. And he didn't want anyone to notice, because his uncle had made sure to inform him that if his Dudley got in trouble for "being a normal boy his age" he would be feeling it next summer holiday.
He was wrestled from his thought by Professor McGonagall's sharp, "Move along now, the sorting ceremony is about to start!"
It was only then that he noticed the ghosts floating off… It seemed that he needed to keep a better eye on things. The boy wizard had not even noticed the floating, translucent specters that had previously been talking with some students.
"Now, form a line and follow me," the professor said to the assembled first years.
She started off towards the large, ornate double doors that he had glimpsed earlier.
Turning to his friend, Harry noticed that Ron looked a bit put out. Perhaps it was because he had gotten so lost in his thoughts that he had forgotten about the redhead's presence…? Whatever it was, he just hoped that he had not alienated one of the first friends he'd ever had.
As they entered the Great Hall, the other students quieted in order to watch the nervous first years. He heard Hermione, who had ended up in front of him, whisper to the boy named Neville:
"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts, A History."
Looking at the ceiling, Harry found it hard to imagine there was one at all. He trusted her on that fact, though.
The emerald-eyed youth tore his gaze away from the starry sky above him to look around the massive hall. While the entire Dursley home could have fit within the Entrance Hall, the Great Hall looked as if it could encompass at least two or three houses. Before him were four, long tables, each filled with 6 years worth of students. Harry was able to figure out which table belonged to which house from the knowledge that had been bestowed to him on the train.
His look at what had to be the Slytherin table only re-affirmed his belief that he wouldn't do well there. Most of those at the table fell into one of three categories: One set sneering like Malfoy and Dudley seemed prone to. The aloof and uncaring gaze his Aunt Petunia perfected. He even saw one girl that looked like she could have been his Aunt's daughter! The third type was that of a cat that was hunting a mouse. A look he had seen on his Uncle many a time during the last month-just before he would add more chores to his seemingly ever growing list.
At what must be the Ravenclaw table, he saw that many had an open curiosity-wondering who among the "firsties", as he'd heard his year being called that on the train, would be sorted into their house. And while there was a certain aloofness there as well, it wasn't the cold, calculating type that came from the Slytherins. He thought he might do decent there based on the types of attitudes they seemed to hold. However, Harry hoped he didn't go there. He had heard about their love of learning, and could only guess that his placement in Ravenclaw would cause problems in the long run, for he had long ago lost the ambition to excel.
The students from Hufflepuff, by and large, seemed to look at the firsties and their nervousness with sympathy and understanding. They were smiling kindly at the first years, as if to say `don't worry'. He decided that Hufflepuff wouldn't be a bad place to be, but didn't know how he would fare in the "Mothering Atmosphere" that they exuded. He'd heard members of the other houses make fun of the `Puffs, but didn't really care about that. He'd dealt with bullies for a long time himself. There were worse places for him to end up, he decided.
Lastly, he saw the Gryffindor table, and saw the same understanding that he saw from the `Puffs. Instead of the sympathetic looks, theirs were of encouragement-almost as if saying "Just do it!" He had heard a lot about Gryffindor from Ron during the train ride, building the image of the house his family had long been sorted. His red-haired friend showed a sense of pride that was almost foreign to Harry. Maybe he would have understood better if he had a family that showed some pride, or even acceptance, in him.
Between the students' tables and the staff table sat an old, worn stool and a tattered hat, that looked like the stitching could go at any moment. Professor McGonagall stood next to it with a parchment. As he watched, the hall burst into applause. Again, it seemed that he had missed a part of her speech. Not wanting to look lost, he started clapping too, wondering what had happened.
"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harry. It seemed that his earlier irritation was now gone…or moved to his brother. "I'll kill Fred. He was going on about wrestling a troll."
How in god's name did putting on a hat determine where he would end up? Oh well, he'd watch and see what happened and just go from there.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"
A blond girl walked from the line, her pigtails bouncing as she floundered between the desire to run and the desire to not seem overeager. She ended up stumbling forwards. When she arrived and put the hat on her head, it took only moments before a rip appeared above the brim of the hat.
In a voice that made Harry wonder what exactly he had missed earlier, it bellowed, "HUFFLEPUFF!".
The aforementioned table erupted into shouts and applause, while both Ravenclaw and Gryffindor clapped politely and Slytherin sneered as one.
"Bones, Susan!" was called next and also sorted into the `Puffs, receiving an identical response. Terry Boot got the same reaction from Ravenclaw and the sorting went on for a time before Hermione was called and he paid more attention. She looked nervous for a second, but then steeled herself and moved forward, sitting on the stool and jamming the hat down on her head.
It was barely there for a moment before the rip formed and shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"
The table of red and gold went wild as she stood up and moved to the table, sitting next to Ron's brother Percy.
Harry thought about what the houses supposedly looked for, and began to wonder if he would be sorted at all. He knew he wasn't cunning or ambitious-so no fit for Slytherin. He was hardworking, but that was largely due to being forced into labor. He certainly never had anyone to be loyal to, and that was a big minus for Hufflepuff. Beating Dudley in school at a young age had resulted in a whipping from his uncle's belt. Thus, he had little drive to delve deeply into study, meaning that Ravenclaw was out of the question. Shuddering, he remembered a week he had spent without food in his first year of Primary School. The teachers had been informed that he was sick with the flu, but he was actually being punished for standing up to his relatives. All of his inclinations toward bravery flew out of the window after that.
Malfoy's name was called a short time later, and, before the hat could even touch his head, it yelled out "SLYTHERIN". It was as if it didn't want to make contact with the blonde's head it was so disgusted. Malfoy smirked and headed to the cheering table; slight booing coming from some members of the Gryffindor table. Six more students were called. Then it came to him.
"Potter, Harry!" McGonagall said.
That seemed to be the cue for the rest of the hall to break into excited whispers, which even the stern glare from the Professor at the front of the room could not quell.
The thoughts running through his head at this point weren't what one would call 'healthy'. He could do nothing to quell them though, much like the fact that he could do nothing to quell the whispering students. `No, I'm going to be sent home when it gets a look! I don't have what any of the houses are looking for. What am I DOING here?!'
Harry collapsed onto the stool and floped the hat set upon his head.
"Well, well, well, another Potter. What to do with you? Let me see…"
`Um, hello? Please, just don't send me home! I know I'm not exactly qualified to be here after hearing what the houses are about, but I just don't want to go back to the Dursleys again!" Harry thought frantically to the Hat, as it seemed to be "talking" in his head only.
"Dear boy, what do you mean? Everyone has a place here, and why wouldn't you want to go back to you family? I think I should look a bit deeper in this instance to see what I need to see." The Hat replied.
He began to panic. He wasn't supposed to let anyone know about what went on at "home".
`No, it's ok. I'm sure you're right. Just tell me where I'm supposed to go and I'll promise to try and do right!' he pleaded, but it seemed the Hat was now worried by his reaction.
"It's ok boy," the Hat said and Harry cringed at the name. "This is one of my functions as well and won't hurt a bit, so no worries. Now, let me see…Oh my-" The Hat cut off before bellowing, "HEADMASTER, PRIVATE CHAMBERS!"
At this, the whispering in the Hall, which had grown louder with the uncharacteristically long sorting, stopped dead. Both Professor Dumbledore and McGonagall went white and many of the other teachers and staff either frowned or looked confused to match the shocked student body.
McGonagall tried to remove the hat from Harry's head, but found it stuck tightly and quickly gave up as she ushered him to a room at the rear of the Great Hall. She was quickly followed by the Headmaster and a women that looked like she was wearing a turn of the century or older nurses uniform. Just before the doors closed, the Hall erupted in loud talk which the professors quickly tried to quiet with little success. Harry Potter's sorting, the Harry Potter, had been interrupted and everyone either wanted to know why or had a theory as to what had happened to cause this.
--
At the Gryffindor table, a bushy, brown-haired girl looked forward with concern at the now closed door for two very different reasons. First, nothing like this had ever happened in the history of Hogwarts. If it had, it would have been recorded in Hogwarts, A History surely? And second, she knew the look that had passed on the boy's face when the hat shouted for the Headmaster.
Fear and hopelessness.
But this was Harry Potter, and although she didn't believe all the stories about him (because, honestly, nobody could have killed a dragon at three years of age), he was a hero to the world at large, and the wizarding world in specific. He had somehow defeated a very powerful dark wizard at a year old-probably by accident or something really, but it had happened nonetheless.
Now that said boy held a look she had come to know all too well. It was the same look she wore when moving onto a new class to be ridiculed and called names simply because she was different-smarter-than her classmates. She was worried for Harry Potter, not the hero, but the boy she had met on the train that did not seem to know just who he was.
--
As soon as the door was closed and Albus had cast the privacy wards around the perimeter of the room, the Hat turned Harry's head towards Albus and began to speak, "Headmaster, before we go back out there and continue the sorting you will bring the director of the DMLE-Ms. Bones' aunt, I believe. I would suggest allowing the feast to begin, though, as this may take some time."
Not knowing what the DMLE was, Harry began to panic, fearing he was right earlier and that he truly didn't belong here at Hogwarts, fearing that they were going to send him back to his aunt and uncle.
Looking towards Dumbledore, he began to rant, "Please, sir, don't send me out. I know I might not belong here, but I just can't go back to them now. I promise that I will do what ever you want! I can work in the kitchens! I'm good at cooking-been doing it since I could see over the stove and I hardly ever make a mistake in there, so if I can just go now, I'll be more than happy to find a way there if you'll just point me in the right way. I-"
During his rant he failed to see the drawn and concerned looks from the two women in the room, or that the woman outfitted like a nurse had drawn her wand and begun to run a series of diagnostic spells on him. It was the gasp at the result of the spells that caused Harry to stop in his tracks, looking towards her, frightened that he had dome something wrong.
Picking up his thoughts, the Hat tried to calm the boy down. "Mr. Potter, I want to assure you that you have done nothing wrong and will not be sent away from Hogwarts. I'm sure Madam Pomfrey's reaction is just due to the diagnostic spells showing here the level of malnutrition you have suffered-not to mention the bruises hidden about your upper body. Correct Madam?"
"Yes, yes it was. Harry, why didn't you tell anyone? The scan shows you haven't been eating right for quite some time and many of the bruises are months old, while others don't seem more than a day gone. If you had told so-"
"No, I couldn't tell. Besides, it's not been that bad. I have my own room now, and if I told anyone, I'd have to go back to my cupboard and I like the room much more, even if I had to clear Dudley's toys out. I just…" Gazing about him, he saw what could only be described as horrified expressions on the faces of the four adults who were now in the room.
Seeing Harry's frantic looking eyes, Madam Pomfrey shook out of her stupor and pulled a vial from the satchel she had with her. "Here, drink this Mr. Potter. It's a calming draught and will make you feel better."
Not looking at all sure about what to do, Harry took the vial and sniffed the potion to see if he recognized it. He wish he hadn't done so, because it smelled horrible. Pinching his nose, Harry quickly downed the potion and tried to ignore the taste. The effect, however, was immediate and he quickly found his nerves calming to a manageable level. The potion didn't do much to help his embarrassment. Four people whom he didn't know now knew more about him than he had ever intended to let show (It rhymes!). And all thanks to the hat on his head that refused to be removed.
"Now then, since everyone is here, I think we should begin. Don't you, Headmaster?" said hat spoke back up, drawing everyone's eyes back to it.
"Yes, quite right. Director Bones, while it's good to see you, how did you know to come, since I hadn't had a chance to contact you yet?" the Headmaster questioned.
"Great-Great-Grandfather Fredrick pass along the word. He was Headmaster here a couple hundred years ago, and I came here as quickly as I could. The last case like this was nearly a hundred years ago, but every director is informed about this duty, just in case the Hat detects a level of abuse that requires intervention on the students behalf. I'm sure the same happens with everyone holding the position you three have, correct?"
There were nods all around the room.
She continued, "Now, Mr. Potter, can you tells us a bit about what your home life is like?"
Even under the affect of the calming draught, Harry began to get a bit nervous, "Er, well, Uncle Vernon told me I'm not allowed to talk about it to, ah, other fr- people like me and I just don't want to cause trouble anymore. He's always said I cause a lot of trouble, but I do try not to."
"Harry, my boy," the old Headmaster said, "if you're uncomfortable with this, we can find what we need without you actually telling us anything. It would mean that we would find what we need, and you would not have to break your word. Would that be ok, Harry?"
He thought about it for a moment. Then he decided that the Headmaster was right-that if he didn't tell them anything, then he was still doing what he was instructed to do. Therefore, he shouldn't get into any trouble.
"Um, ok, I think that would be alright," he said in a small voice. "What do I need to do for this?"
The headmaster smiled at him, though none of it reached his eyes. "Just sit back and think of the times that your aunt and uncle were the meanest to you. The Hat will help focus the memories for us. I'm going to put my wand against you temple and you're going to feel a slight pulling feeling in your head-nothing more than a tickle as I move my wand away. This will literally pull a copy of the memory from your mind, and we will be able to watch it in this basin to see what had happened. We will do this a few times until the Hat says we have seen what we need to see." He paused for a moment and looked at the three women standing around him. "Madams Bones and Pomfrey will be viewing them with me, and Professor McGonagall will stay with you and view them later if needed. Is that acceptable ladies? Mr. Hat?"
Pomfrey and Bones both nodded their ascent, while McGonagall frowned for a moment in thought before nodding as well. Dumbledore spent nearly two minutes removing memories from Harry before the Hat told them that was enough. The three that were viewing the memories took a breath and leaned into the silvery liquid. They disappeared into the bowl.
Harry sat with Professor McGonagall in the trophy room, trying to keep himself hidden in the chair he sat in. While it was true that he hadn't broken his Uncle's order about telling people about his home life, and was fairly certain that he couldn't get in trouble, he was embarrassed. He was sure that after seeing all those memories, the adults would not allow him to stay, regardless of what they had told him earlier. Because who would want to keep him around when all he did was mess things up for his relatives? Angering them all the time?
He was again broken from his thoughts as McGonagall spoke, "Mr. Potter, are you all right? Did you eat at all on the train? Or would you like something to eat now? I can have some food brought here if you want."
He was about to say 'no thanks', as he had eaten on the train, but his grumbling stomach gave him away.
He had not seen McGonagall's small smile, for he had looked away sheepishly.
"I'll just get something brought in. Tilly!"
Moments later, a small creature wearing what looked like a pillowcase with the Hogwarts insignia on it appeared.
"Mistress Minnie calls Tilly. What can Tilly be doing for Mistress Minnie and Harry Potter Sir?" The little creature bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, seemingly eager to receive her orders from McGonagall.
"Tilly," the Professor began, "Mr. Potter is going to be back here for a while and would most likely miss the welcoming feast. Can you please bring him a plate of food and a cup of Pumpkin Juice?"
"Oh yes, I can be doing that right quickly Mistress Minnie. Tilly will be back shortly." With that, the creature popped out of the room-literally-presumably to fulfill the professor's request.
About this time, the three viewing the memories came back out of the Pensive. They looked more than slightly disturbed by what they had seen. It had been the memory of the first test young Harry had brought home from school. Grinning, with a big red "A" on the paper hoping that his achievement would grant him some affection, or at least acknowledgement, from his relatives he rushed home. Only he was given a belt for, in their opinion, obviously using his "unnaturalness" to make better grades than their dear Duddiumkins. After a minute or two at the business end of the belt, he was sent to his cupboard without supper. That was where the memory had ended.
He had been six.
Both Bones and Pomfrey looked disgusted at what they had seen, and worried about what the later memories would show them. Dumbledore, while looking thoroughly disgusted at what the Dursleys had done to Harry, showed a lot of guilt in his normally sparkling eyes. The expression was easily caught by Minerva.
"I told you Albus! I watched them the entire day before you had him brought there and I told you about them-that they were the worst sort of Muggles imaginable! But you assured me it was for the best. After the medi-scans and that memory, can you still tell me it was for the best?! From the look in your eye, I can guess not!"
Dumbledore couldn't look the Deputy Headmistress in the eye as he answered her, "Yes, yes you did. But at the time, I never suspected Lily's sister would ever behave like this. I just pray that there aren't many more memories are as bad as this one."
With that Dumbledore, Bones and Pomfrey leaned back into the pensive and disappeared into the other memories.
During McGonagall's "talk" with Dumbledore, Tilly had reappeared with Harry's food. But since he hadn't been told he could eat, just sat looking at the food.
Minerva noticed his gaze and asked, "Mr. Potter, Harry, why haven't you started on your dinner yet?"
"This is too much for me ma'am, I figured that, er, Tilly would be returning with my plate or I'd just be finishing what you didn't."
That seemed to be the wrong answer because Professor McGonagall looked thoroughly appalled. "I assure you that that plate is all for you, Mr. Potter. I have a feeling I will be taking a late supper in my quarters tonight. Now, please do eat the food the elves made, or as much as you can. Now, we will wait for the others to return."
Harry grudgingly ate his food, looking towards Professor McGonagall every few moments, and finished what he could of the plate shortly. They fell into a somewhat comfortable quiet as they waited.
**AN**
Here is the first chapter for my shot at the Sorting Abuse Challenge. I'm not going for the manipulative Dumbledore in the extreme, and he WILL be a light wizard, not some back room dark lord or puppet master. He is honestly trying to do what he thinks is best, but is human and can, has and will make mistakes. Also, he will be non-cannon as he will not be gay. I have no problem with homosexual people at all, I just don't see him as that type. I'm still debating on what kind of relationship for him and Minerva to have, be it strictly professional, semi-personal being friends away from Hogwarts outside the Order, or too have them have a romantic relationship of some sort or another. That will come into play though by the end of next chapter, so look for it. :)
Thanks to DrgnMstr from Fanfiction.net for the idea and challenge, you can find the forum with the rules here: fanfiction(.)net/topic/57544/15045800/1/
~ErikArden
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