He sniffed at the unorganised chaos around him; the complete and utter lack of decorum. Students shoved this way and that, laughing loudly, shouting and whistling cat calls at the prettier girls. Only the Slytherins showed any signs of dignity and that in itself was a small mercy swamped by the other three houses. Clumped together before him were the quivering first years, all seemingly terrified of what awaited them. He snarled; they didn't even know the meaning of it.
His twin stood right at the front, a cocky grin of superiority done wrong on his face. The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Annoy-Him had a Weasley hanging off his every word as well as bushy haired girl that seemed to be spouting off a hundred facts per second as they followed the lumbering oaf with the lantern. Was this really what the most prestigious wizarding school in Europe had to offer?
If it was, he was disgusted.
He walked alongside Draco, who appeared, along with a few others, to share his thoughts. Although he could detect, behind the confident swagger, a trace of nerves. He supposed it was natural; no Malfoy had been put anywhere other than Slytherin. At least, that is what he had been led to believe.
As they slipped and stumbled down a narrow path- Harry did no such thing and walked as though it was a perfectly even marble floor- the oaf continued to talk to them, his accent tainting his words enough for Harry to even question whether or not the man was speaking English. He supposed he was, considering he could at least pick out the gist of what he was saying. Something about Hogwarts being round the corner.
And it was. The castle itself was a lot more impressive than the state of its students. Towers reached for the heavens, their windows glowing with golden warmth, and the old stone reached out with embedded magic, welcoming its children home. The only thing that stood between them and the castle was a crystal cut lake and little wooden boats without oars. Harry tensed; he could guess what was going to happen next.
"No more than four ter a boat!" the oaf, Hagrid he believed he was called, roared over the heads.
Harry had never been fond of water. He remembered all too strongly the storm in which he was brought to Azkaban and the aurors escorting him had taken far too much pleasure in allowing him to drown before they dragged him back out of the angry depths; he had been six years old. Six. And they had thought him a monster.
He warily stepped into the boat, sitting down, straight backed- not allowing his unease to show. Draco and two beefy boys that looked like Dumber and Dumber 2 sat down in the boat with him, and they all waited for whatever came next. With a sudden lurch, the boats floated forwards; Hagrid's slowly sinking one leading the way. Harry just about stopped breathing.
If he was anyone else, he would've burst into tears of relief as they touched the shore. But he wasn't. He did, however, allow himself to relax his muscles and a little sigh. And then it was all back; his posture, his mask and his 'mad' glint in his eyes. All part of the plan.
They were led up flights of stone steps and into a small room, before being promptly abandoned to the fate of the stern emerald robed witch before them. She had a pinched face a grey hair that was scraped back tightly into a knot; Harry saw, unlike those around him, the kind flecks in her eyes and the lines around them that showed she was actually capable of smiling and laughing. But she still wasn't someone you wanted to mess with.
"Welcome to Hogwarts," she said, eyeing them all with her neutral gaze. "Now, in a few moments you will pass through these doors and join your classmates, but before you take your seats, you must be sorted into your houses. They are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Now while you're here, your house will be like your family. Your triumphs will earn you points. Any rule breaking, and you will lose points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup.
"In a few minutes the Sorting Ceremony will begin- I suggest you smarten yourselves up a bit whilst you're waiting." Her eyes lingered on the smudge of dirt on Ron Weasley's nose and the hastily, incorrectly, clasped robe of Neville Longbottom's.