Chapter 4: Listening to Fate
April 26, 2025 at 4:37 PM
The Hogwarts Express set off precisely at eleven o’clock. Harry watched as London dissolved into swirling clouds of steam beyond the window and could scarcely believe he was truly on his way to Hogwarts. He and Tom had arrived at Platform 9¾ rather early and, after braving the unsettling process of crossing through the barrier, had settled into one of the many empty compartments observing the arriving wizards.
Never in his life had Harry been to a railway station, and the place had left an impression of utter bustle and confusion. Yet Platform 9¾ was different. It was just as busy and noisy but everything was imbued with a distinct touch of magic. Postal owls circled above the laden trolleys and trunks; colourful cats dashed back and forth along the platform; and, to his delight, Harry occasionally spotted suitcases and trunks zipping along on their own, faithfully following their owners. Several times, other passengers peeked into their compartment but, seeing it already occupied, quickly retreated in search of a free refuge for the next few hours. Occasionally strange things happened: the door would suddenly burst open and a giggling group of girls would tumble in for precisely ten seconds before vanishing as if they’d never been there.
At first, this parade of oddities confused both boys, but then a student of about thirteen sprinted past their compartment, shouting: ‘Oi, Martin! You heard? They’re saying Harry Potter’s about somewhere on the train!’ – and another voice, somewhere further down the carriage, cried out in astonishment: ‘The Harry Potter?! You’re having a laugh! Where?’
Tom and Harry exchanged glances. Archer silently approached the door and slid it shut firmly.
‘From this second on, my name’s John Smith,’ Harry decided solemnly.
‘Yeah, and I’m Tom Sawyer,’ Archer smirked grimly. ‘Stop flappin’.’
‘I’m not flappin’!’ Harry protested, only to fall silent immediately when there was a knock at the door.
‘Oh, bloody brilliant,’ Tom muttered, sitting down beside Harry and folding his arms. ‘Right, we’ll pretend we’re not here.’
They stared at the door, tense. The uninvited guest hesitated a moment, then tried the handle; the door slid open, revealing a lanky, freckled boy with a shock of flaming red hair. He spotted that the compartment was occupied and a look of immense disappointment crossed his face.
‘Er – sorry,’ he began uncertainly, ‘is it free in here? I’ve searched the whole bleedin’ train …’
‘Come in,’ Harry offered quickly, beating Tom’s sharp ‘We’re full’ by a mere second. His desire not to draw attention to himself had given way to curiosity. The redhead smiled gratefully and heaved his trunk into the compartment. Archer shot Harry a questioning look before shutting the door and locking it with a small latch.
The red-haired boy settled his luggage onto the rack and sat down opposite Harry and Tom. An awkward silence fell.
‘Erm, first year?’ the redhead ventured.
‘Yeah,’ Harry and Tom exchanged glances.
‘Phew, I’m dead nervous. I’m Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley,’ he said, thrusting out his hand with a wide grin.
‘Harry Potter,’ Harry answered without thinking – and immediately regretted it. Tom rolled his eyes; Ron’s face stretched in astonishment and turned bright red, the friendliness in his blue eyes giving way to sheer shock.
‘Really?’ he breathed. ‘You’re Harry Potter?’ he lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘The Harry Potter?’
‘No, he’s a different Potter,’ Archer glanced irritably at the redhead and mouthed. ‘Weren’t you gonna be John Smith?’
Ron blinked and stared at Tom as if noticing him for the first time.
‘Er … this is Thomas Archer,’ Harry said quickly, ‘my best mate.’
‘Oh, nice to meet you,’ Ron said, smiling awkwardly at Archer. ‘Sorry, it’s just – I never thought I’d be riding in the same compartment as Harry Potter.’
‘Imagine that, you’ll even be at the same school with him too – miracle, innit?’ Tom muttered under his breath, but he spoke so quietly that Ron didn’t catch it.
‘Is it true you’ve got …’ he widened his eyes dramatically and gestured at his forehead; Harry blinked in confusion, ‘… the scar,’ Ron finished in a spooky whisper.
‘Yeah,’ Harry said, brushing his fringe aside and letting Ron gawk at the famous lightning bolt.
“Well, it’s not that bad really,” Harry thought, “it’s just a scar – let him stare if he likes.”
‘Blimey,’ Ron shook his head and grinned. ‘Fred and George are gonna lose their minds!’
‘Who?’
‘My brothers,’ Ron said, waving a hand dismissively. ‘Pair of nutters!’
‘You’ve got brothers?’ Tom asked. ‘Wizards too?’
‘Yeah, and my parents and all the family,’ Ron nodded. ‘Five older brothers and a little sister, Ginny – all witches and wizards,’ he said, rolling his eyes theatrically.
Harry found himself feeling a pang of envy. Ron’s whole family, everything in his life, was tied to magic. Harry thought that Ron must know everything there was to know about the wizarding world – and yet he wasn’t anything like the stuck-up blond boy they’d met in Madam Malkin’s shop.
‘That’s brilliant,’ Harry said sincerely.
‘It’s rubbish,’ Ron replied. ‘Imagine – Charlie was Quidditch Captain, now he works with dragons; Bill was Head Boy, left school with top marks, and got a job at Gringotts! Percy’s been made a prefect and he’s one of the best students, Fred and George are constantly getting into trouble but they’re brilliant at magic, and now I’ve got to outdo the lot of them.’
‘But you’re from a wizarding family, and two of your brothers have already finished school,’ Tom pointed out. ‘You must know the Hogwarts curriculum back to front!’
‘Well,’ Ron flushed and shrugged, and Harry realised that it didn’t really matter what kind of family you came from – all first-years were just as nervous.
The conversation flowed more easily after that. When Ron found out that both Harry and Tom had grown up in the Muggle world, he nearly lost his marbles from excitement.
‘With Muggles? Blimey! My dad’s bonkers about Muggle stuff, especially – what’s it called – tolly … tollyvision …’
‘Television,’ Harry corrected with a smile.
‘Yeah, yeah! He brought one home once, kept tryin’ to get it to work, but the people inside wouldn’t listen to him.’
‘But that’s …’ Harry giggled, ‘hang on, that’s not how it’s supposed to work at all!’
Ron was as mad to hear about the Muggle world as Harry and Tom were to learn about the wizarding one. Ron peppered Harry with questions about everything from communication methods to clothes and hairstyles, while Harry, in return, bombarded him with questions about wizards.
It turned out there were loads of little towns and villages across Britain hidden away from Muggles, inhabited solely by witches and wizards – and that some kids like Ron or his little sister Ginny had never even seen a Muggle in their lives.
After half an hour, Harry was completely at ease, and he and Ron were cracking jokes and speculating about what lay ahead at school. Tom, however, chose to stay quiet, and as Harry cautiously watched his dour friend, he realised two simple truths.
First, he liked Ron and wanted to be friends with him.
Second, Tom didn’t like Ron at all.
‘Which house do you want to be sorted into?’ asked Potter, still wondering where he himself might end up.
‘Gryffindor,’ Ron answered without a trace of doubt. ‘My whole family’s been there – only, I dunno if I’ll make it,’ he shrugged. ‘Fred says they only take the best of the best.’
‘Blimey,’ Harry mused.
‘Honestly, I don’t mind where, just not Slytherin!’ the redhead burst out fervently.
Tom immediately fixed him with a sharp look, speaking for the first time in a while.
‘Yeah? Why not?’
‘Are you joking? Only dark wizards come out of Slytherin! They say You-Know-Who was in Slytherin,’ Weasley added in a whisper. ‘Ending up in Slytherin’s the worst thing that can happen to you at Hogwarts.’
‘Really?’ Harry now looked at him a bit suspiciously. ‘Does it really matter which house you’re in? Just because you’re in Slytherin doesn’t mean you’ll end up like Voldemort.’
‘Don’t say his name!’ Ron gasped, horrified.
‘Sorry,’ Harry began, but Archer gave a loud, scornful snort.
‘Knew it – most wizards are so bloody narrow-minded.’
‘What?’ Weasley scowled.
‘What’s all the fuss about a name? I could say it a hundred times: Voldemort, Voldemort, Voldemort,’ Archer sang, watching the now pale-faced boy with a mocking look, ‘and nothing’s going to happen.’
‘Tom, pack it in,’ Harry said sharply, turning to Ron. ‘Sorry, I really don’t quite get it …’
‘Slytherin’s full of utter gits, that’s why,’ Ron snapped. ‘No decent folk go there. In that snake pit, being two-faced and slimy’s pretty much the rule. Take my advice, Harry, stay well away from Slytherins – you won’t get anything good from them! Especially you – you’re the one who defeated You-Know-Who, so all the Slytherins’ll hate you.’
For the first time, Harry thought about it from that angle. The idea that a quarter of the school might hate him just because, by some strange twist of fate, he had deflected a deadly curse and defeated Voldemort instead of dying himself was deeply unsettling.
“You’re famous, Mr Potter. Many admire you, many fear you, but some will try to hurt you,” Professor McGonagall’s words from Diagon Alley suddenly flashed into his memory, making him frown even more.
“She knew I’d face this already at school,” he thought. “She knew and tried to warn me. Well, looks like that’s one more thing I’ll have to get used to.”
‘And what if Harry ends up in Slytherin?’ Tom asked suddenly, not bothering to hide his irritation. ‘Are you going to brand him an enemy for life?’
‘He won’t,’ Ron said firmly. ‘He’s not like them. He just couldn’t be.’
‘And if he does?’ Archer pressed. ‘You going to start slagging him off? Call him a dark wizard? Say he’s evil?’
‘Well … no, but it’s not going to happen,’ Ron said, glancing uncertainly at Potter. ‘Harry doesn’t want to be in Slytherin.’
‘Says who? Maybe he’s been dreaming about it all along, and you, with all your daft prejudices, are stomping all over it,’ this time, the hurt in Tom’s voice was impossible to miss. Harry decided it was time to step in before the two of them started a proper row.
‘“He” is still here, by the way,’ Harry said irritably, drawing their attention back to him, ‘and “He” reckons he can decide for himself which house he wants to be in and who he’s going to be mates with.’
‘Sorry, it’s just – I reckon the Slytherins won’t exactly roll out the red carpet for you,’ Ron sighed. ‘They already sneer at everyone else, and you – well, you’re the one who finished off You-Know-Who.’
Harry grimaced, and Archer shot a poisonous look at Ron.
‘I’d sneer too if people went around judging everyone before even knowing them,’ he said coldly, turning away to stare out of the window.
Now Harry understood what had upset his friend. Tom wanted to be in Slytherin. He hadn’t said so outright, hadn’t made it his main goal, but he really did want it. Why, Harry had no idea – but Tom had a nasty habit of getting whatever he wanted, which meant he could very well end up a Slytherin. And that was bad. Very bad. Harry didn’t know yet what he was going to do about it.
The only thing Potter was absolutely sure of was that he was ready to be sorted into any house. Any house but Slytherin.
***
The train arrived at its destination just as twilight was beginning to fall outside. By then, the boys had changed into their school robes and were eagerly awaiting the moment they would finally set foot inside the school. ‘Fred and George say the entrance test starts right from here,’ Ron said as the train slowed to a halt and they, along with the other students, pushed their way out of the carriage. ‘They said we’ll have to get through a few obstacles to show what we’re made of. Might even have to wrestle that giant squid in the lake. Fred also said something about werewolves – whole packs of ’em – or … blimey!’ Harry had been so busy listening that he didn’t immediately realise what had made Ron exclaim. Following his gaze, Harry lifted his head. And then lifted it higher. And higher still, until he had to tip it right back. Towering over them was … ‘A giant!’ someone squealed from among the crowd of first-years. ‘It’s a giant!’ ‘Here’s our first test,’ Tom muttered, making Harry twitch nervously. ‘Firs’-years!’ bellowed the giant. ‘Over here! Ha-ha, loads of you this year!’ and in his fearsome grin, Harry unexpectedly recognised a smile. ‘Welcome to Hogwarts! C’mon, c’mon, I don’t bite,’ he laughed, making the children shrink back in alarm. ‘What are we supposed to do?’ Harry whispered. ‘Knock him out,’ Tom suggested grimly, but Ron slapped his forehead. ‘Oh, that’s Hagrid!’ ‘Who?’ Harry and Tom asked together, but Weasley’s reply was drowned out by the giant’s booming voice. ‘Name’s Rubeus Hagrid, keeper o’ keys and grounds at Hogwarts. Been sent to fetch yeh lot to the school. Everyone here? Good – follow me!’ ‘I thought Professor McGonagall was meeting us,’ Harry said thoughtfully as they huddled together and began shuffling after the giant. ‘Hope he’s not planning to eat us,’ Archer muttered weakly, eyeing Hagrid’s massive back with suspicion. However, all their fears melted away when the groundskeeper led them down to the lake, where a row of small boats was waiting. High above the black surface of the water, perched on a cliff, stood a real castle. Gasps of amazement swept through the first-years. Harry nearly tripped, staring at the magnificent sight, as they piled into the boats. ‘They’re moving on their own!’ Ron shouted, half leaning over the side. ‘Brilliant!’ Harry said nothing, still staring straight ahead. ‘Is this Hogwarts?’ he breathed, taking in the narrow windows glowing with soft light, the unassailable stone walls and the round towers. ‘Are we going to study here?’ ‘Always dreamed of living in a castle, have you?’ Tom teased with a grin, though he himself could not tear his enchanted gaze away from Hogwarts. ‘I always thought a wizard school should look exactly like this,’ Harry decided, a wide, unstoppable smile spreading across his face. ‘Heads down!’ yelled Hagrid as the first boat reached the cliff on which Hogwarts stood, shrouded in the darkness of the night. The boats glided through a thick patch of ivy, behind which loomed a wide opening in the stone wall, leading deep into a shadowy corridor. The tunnel seemed to draw them deeper and deeper under the castle until the little boats finally came to rest in an underground harbour. The first-years scrambled onto the rocky shore. ‘Everyone here?’ Hagrid cast a questioning glance over the hushed first-years, nodded, and, lifting a lantern from the ground, started up a flight of stone steps carved into the rock. The children hurried after the giant. After several flights of stairs, they found themselves before enormous oak doors. Hagrid knocked three times, and one of the doors immediately swung open. Standing on the threshold was a tall witch with dark hair, just touched with grey, clad in a robe of emerald green. Harry recognised Professor McGonagall at once and beamed at her. The witch cast him a fleeting glance and greeted the students with a reserved smile. ‘Welcome to Hogwarts. I shall lead you to the Great Hall, where the Sorting will take place. Please follow me,’ she said, nodding to Hagrid. ‘Thank you, Rubeus. I will take it from here.’ She turned smartly on her heel, and the first-years obediently followed, whispering anxiously about the upcoming Sorting. As they entered the hall, Harry turned his head this way and that, trying to take in the vast chamber, lit by flaming torches. Without slowing, Professor McGonagall led them across the hall and pointed to a small empty chamber off to the side. ‘The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory and spend free time in your house common room. ‘The four houses are called Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Slytherin, and Hufflepuff. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours. ‘The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting.’ Her gaze lingered on a boy with a crookedly fastened cloak, Harry’s messy hair, and a few other students who, in her opinion, looked rather dishevelled. Everyone began nervously smoothing their hair, brushing off their robes and eyeing one another to compare appearances. The little room suddenly felt very cramped with all the first-years crammed inside. ‘I shall return when we are ready for you,’ said Professor McGonagall. ‘Please wait quietly.’ She left the chamber. Harry swallowed and glanced at Tom, who was idly observing the others without the slightest hint of nerves. ‘I wonder how the Sorting is done?’ Harry whispered, not speaking to anyone in particular. ‘Maybe it’s an exam or something,’ Ron suggested. Harry panicked. How could he pass an exam when he didn’t know anything yet? He’d make a complete fool of himself in front of the whole school! Glancing around, he noticed all the other first-years looked just as tense. That cheered him slightly. Still, the thought of standing alone before everyone and having to perform some magic made him feel sick. ‘Oi, stop huffing like that,’ Archer snapped irritably, clearly fed up with the wait. ‘How can they expect us to do things we haven’t even learnt yet?’ ‘But what if –’ ‘Calm down,’ he sighed. ‘It’s probably just an interview. I read somewhere that some academies interview students to discover their talents.’ ‘But what if they don’t find any talents in me?’ Harry whispered. ‘Then what?’ ‘Then we’ll just go back to London,’ Tom said matter-of-factly. ‘What?’ ‘Well, I can’t very well stay here if you have to leave, can I?’ Archer said indignantly. ‘You’d quit school because of me?’ Harry said, disbelieving. ‘I can’t really imagine it.’ ‘And I can’t imagine you not being accepted,’ Tom cut him off, cornering him with logic and leaving him to wrestle with his guilt and doubts. At last, Professor McGonagall returned. She instructed them to pair up and led them to the Great Hall, where the rest of the school was already gathered. Four long tables stretched across the room, filled with students of various ages. Above each table hung a banner, which Harry quickly realised represented the different Houses. Excited whispers broke out. Like the other first-years, Harry tilted his head back and gave Tom an urgent elbow in the ribs. ‘Look! Look at the ceiling! It’s the sky! And the candles! They’re floating! Thousands of them!’ he hissed excitedly. Tom followed his gaze, mouth agape, completely forgetting to scold Harry for ‘acting like a wally’. In the centre of the hall stood a table where the teachers were seated. Professor McGonagall led them towards a tall stool placed just before it. Upon the stool sat an ancient, battered hat. As the students gathered around, the hall fell silent. “What happens now?” Harry thought, craning his neck. ‘Did you see that?’ Tom suddenly hissed, nodding towards the hat. ‘It moved!’ ‘What –’ Harry began, but fell silent. The hat was indeed moving – more than that, it was singing. Harry, mouth open, listened in amazement, though in his stupor he could not catch a word. The longer the song continued, the warmer Harry felt inside. Floating candles, self-sailing boats, a singing hat, a massive magical castle, and – good grief! – real ghosts! He hadn’t even noticed the happy grin that had spread across his face. He felt like he’s become a hero from some fairy tale. It all felt so unreal and yet so natural, he almost wanted to burst out laughing. Suddenly, Harry knew – Hogwarts would become his second home. The best home in the world. The hat finished its song and the hall fell silent. Professor McGonagall unrolled a scroll with a soft rustle and looked at the fidgeting first-years. ‘When I call your name, please step forward and sit on the stool,’ she said, picking up the magical hat. After each name was called, a nervous but excited student would walk up, sit on the stool, and have the hat placed on their head. After a minute or so, the hat would shout the name of the House. ‘See?’ Tom whispered. ‘Nothing to be scared of …’ ‘Archer, Thomas,’ Professor McGonagall called clearly, and Tom fell silent. Harry watched as all colour drained from his friend’s face. Head held high, Tom strode to the stool and sat down. Harry held his breath. The wait felt endless. Crossing every finger he had, he chanted inwardly, “Not Slytherin! Not Slytherin!” The Sorting Hat shouted, ‘SLYTHERIN!’ “That’s that,” thought Harry miserably, watching his best friend head towards the table beneath the silver and green serpent banner, beaming with pride. “Well, it’s no surprise really … Tom always did love snakes …” Harry barely noticed anything after that – not the other students being Sorted, not even when the blond boy they’d met in Diagon Alley was also placed in Slytherin. He didn’t know what he wanted any more. He and Tom had always been together. Faced everything together. Always … always … always. And now … now it was over? Harry knew he wouldn’t be Sorted into Slytherin. He didn’t want to be. He liked Gryffindor. He liked everything about it. He wanted to be part of it. He wanted Gryffindor to be his home and family. “But isn’t Tom your family?” he asked himself. “Didn’t you swear that any place could be home, so long as your best friend was there? So why not let Slytherin be your family?” Harry closed his eyes, struggling to think clearly. “A House doesn’t define you. Being in Slytherin doesn’t make you bad. Ron’s wrong. I don’t believe all Slytherins are wicked. McGonagall was wrong too. I’m just Harry Potter. I’m just a normal boy, and it doesn’t matter what House I’m in. It doesn’t matter what crest I wear, it doesn’t matter what colours my House has. What matters is our friendship. What matters is – Gryffindor and Slytherin are rivals. I can’t be Tom’s rival. I can’t be his enemy. Tom is my family. Sod the House – I don’t care any more.” He pushed away fear and doubt, pushed away bitterness and hesitation. He didn’t want to be in Slytherin. But if he really, really wished it, the Hat could send him there, right? “Would he have gone with you if you’d been sorted into Gryffindor?” a small doubt whispered. Harry froze, focusing on that. “Would he have followed you?” “I … don’t know.” ‘Potter, Harry!’ He jumped and lifted his head. For a moment, there was complete silence, then whispers rippled through the hall: ‘Potter?’ ‘The Harry Potter?’ ‘Is that him?’ ‘Potter’s at Hogwarts?’ Harry took a step forward, heart pounding with doubt and fear, and moved towards the unknown. ‘Well, well, well,’ sang a voice in his head the moment the heavy brim of the Hat fell over his eyes, cutting off the view of the hall. A moment later, Harry realised it was the Hat speaking. ‘So this is Harry Potter … how interesting … and what have we here?’ the voice mused, clucking its tongue thoughtfully. ‘I see bravery and loyalty, nobility and a strong desire to protect your friends … oh! And cunning too … hmm …’ the Hat paused. ‘A good set of qualities for Gryffindor.’ Harry groaned inwardly. ‘But,’ the hat continued, ‘there’s something inside you that even you don’t know, something no one has seen – special talents and qualities … and all that will make you a Slytherin.’ ‘Slytherin?’ Harry breathed mentally. ‘Oh yes … you stand before two doors, boy, and each will lead you down a different path. Gryffindor will give you loyal friends, teach you strength and resilience, and offer you a chance to find a home and a family. Slytherin might take all that from you, erase who you are, crush your dreams and hopes … just as it could help you rise, change, and achieve greatness beyond your imagining.’ ‘I don’t want greatness, fame, or glory,’ Harry sighed in his mind, ‘I just … don’t want to lose a friend.’ ‘Greatness doesn’t always mean power and dominance,’ the hat observed. ‘Know this, Harry Potter – truly great are those who can overcome and accept themselves.’ ‘I don’t want to be in Slytherin,’ Harry shook his head, ‘but if I end up in Gryffindor, Tom and I will be enemies.’ ‘Fear is a choice too, boy. Think well, think carefully – sometimes our fears reveal qualities within us we didn’t even know existed. They awaken something hidden in the shadows of our mind. You have enough courage to face your fears … but have you the will to face your own soul?’ ‘I … I don’t know …’ The hat chuckled quietly. ‘Fate is fickle and inconstant … fate is a crafty lady, very crafty, Harry Potter, and very wise too – if you listen to her whispers, much will be revealed to you. You don’t know yourself yet, you don’t know what you want, you don’t know who you are. She will guide you. Listen. Listen, Harry Potter.’ Harry closed his eyes, and memories flared in his mind. He and Tom lying on the grass, gazing at the sky, each dreaming of a new life, each wishing for something. Their vow creating a new sense of family and home for them both. Every day is filled with meaning when someone close to you is there. Does it really matter ‘where’ or ‘when’? Do fame and honour really matter? Do monsters lurk in the dark? Is fear not just a word? Does time concern anyone? “… We’ll go back to London … I can’t very well stay here if you have to leave …” “Would he have followed you?” What difference does it make? It doesn’t matter whether you’re right or wrong – your choice is yours alone, and you’ll bear the consequences. A few days before leaving for Hogwarts, Harry had voiced a sudden thought to his friend: ‘Tom, what if we end up in different houses?’ ‘So what?’ ‘Will we still be friends?’ ‘You idiot, we’re best mates!’ ‘Well …?’ ‘We can’t be in different houses, you daft git! It’s just not possible.’ Now Harry seriously wondered whether Tom had been right. Tom always got what he wanted. Tom always knew exactly what he wanted. Tom was always so sure of himself. And often enough, Archer’s desires became Harry’s as well. But did Harry know what he himself wanted? All his life, Harry had been what others wanted him to be. He changed, adapted, blended in depending on the environment and people around him. Obedient and quiet for the Dursleys, invisible for school teachers, a meek weakling for Dudley. He was always what others needed him to be. Never himself. Even for Tom, he was someone else – someone his friend wanted to see. But what had Tom really seen in him? What, apart from magic, was there in Harry that made the proud, self-assured boy, who despised everyone, decide to befriend him? Would that decision change? Who, indeed, was Harry Potter? He didn’t even know. Harry could very well have been a Gryffindor – selflessness and loyalty lived within him. But what about cunning and guile? Hypocrisy? Could Harry become such a person? And if he could, for what purpose? Was there any point to it? And was there even any point to all of this? The sudden understanding was almost shocking. “I can easily imagine Harry Potter as a Gryffindor, but I have no idea who Harry Potter the Slytherin would be.” Wasn’t that the answer? He had never done anything for himself. Never acted against others’ expectations. Always striving to live up to what was demanded. But why? For approval? Whose? Praise? He’d never received any in his life. Duty? Towards whom? An ideal? He didn’t even know what that meant. What would people say if he was a little selfish? And did it matter what they’d say or think? In the end, there was only one person in Harry’s life whose opinion meant anything to him. And that person had never demanded anything from him. ‘Decision made?’ the hat clarified. ‘Are you certain?’ Harry took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. ‘Yes.’ ‘So be it.’***
Albus Dumbledore hadn’t been this nervous in years. When the first-years entered the hall, he immediately began scanning the crowd for one boy – the boy on whom half of magical Britain pinned their hopes, the boy he had longed to see for ten years. The boy he had failed. Harry Potter. His gaze studied every face as the children approached the staff table. Suddenly, something caught his attention. At first, he didn’t even know what made him flinch slightly and tense. As though among the crowd stood someone who shouldn’t be there. He looked again, and then he found him. Only long experience and composure kept the headmaster from grabbing his wand on the spot. Standing directly opposite him was someone who had already graduated Hogwarts once. For a fleeting moment, Albus felt as though he had been thrown back nearly fifty years – back to the year when a boy with proudly raised head and cold fathomless black eyes had stood before him. The boy who had later named himself Lord Voldemort and unleashed his hatred upon the magical world. Now, in this moment, Albus was staring into the eyes of Tom Marvolo Riddle. The vision vanished as quickly as it came. The image dissolved, and the headmaster saw just an ordinary boy – though one uncannily resembling young Tom Riddle. But the boy’s dark eyes no longer held that terrifying coldness. Just a lad, waiting for his Sorting, eyes full of curiosity and thirst for knowledge. Still, Dumbledore couldn’t ignore the resemblance. The boy grinned and whispered something to the first-year next to him. Dumbledore shifted his gaze and spotted … Harry Potter. Meaning that the other boy … ‘Archer, Thomas!’ called Professor McGonagall. A thought crossed Dumbledore’s mind – could the Dark Lord have had children? Grandchildren? That would explain a great deal. “But how, by Merlin’s beard, did this child become Harry Potter’s best friend?” Dumbledore wondered, watching as Tom settled onto the stool and the Sorting Hat was placed on his head. “And should I be worried?” he thought as the hat sorted Archer to Slytherin. The Sorting continued, but Dumbledore kept glancing at Harry. He noticed the boy’s face fall when his friend was placed in Slytherin. He could see the turmoil in Harry’s eyes. Albus felt a pang of sympathy. He knew that once Harry went to Gryffindor, their friendship would end – or at least grow distant. After all, those two houses turned even brothers into enemies. He only hoped Harry would find good friends in his House, who will help him deal with the situation and support him. Finally, it was Harry’s turn. Dumbledore leaned forward. The hat was silent for quite a while, making the old man anxious. But at last, Harry’s shoulders relaxed, and the Headmaster realised that the Hat had made its decision “Hopefully, he won’t take it too hard …” Dumbledore began to think when the hat roared: ‘SLYTHERIN!’ A stunned silence filled the Great Hall. Dumbledore caught McGonagall’s gaze. He could swear he saw smugness gleaming in her eyes. “I told you so, Albus,” her expression seemed to say as she removed the Hat from the boy’s head. Harry rose, pale as a sheet. He cast an uncertain glance at McGonagall then made his way to the Slytherin table. At once, Slytherin erupted in applause. Dumbledore didn’t notice the rest of the Sorting. He couldn’t even recall what he was thinking during it. He could only stare at the Slytherin table, watching Harry slipping between Thomas Archer and Draco Malfoy, Archer giving Harry a broad grin, clapping him on the back, and saying something, Draco straightening up, speaking to Harry, and Harry, dazed, shaking his hand. Finally, the last students were seated, and silence fell over the Hall. Forcing a smile, Dumbledore stood to make a traditional speech. ‘… Before we begin the banquet, I must remind you that walks into the Forbidden Forest and wandering the corridors after curfew are forbidden, much to your dismay …’ he said, though he barely heard himself. Only one thought whirled in his mind: “Where did it all go wrong?” ‘… and lastly,’ he gestured towards a professor at the far end of the table, ‘please welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor, Remus Lupin!’ Under a wave of applause, Lupin rose slightly, smiling warmly at the students, though his gaze often flickered towards the Slytherin table. Dumbledore spread his arms wide. ‘Let the banquet begin!’ Food appeared on the tables, and the starving students fell upon it. But Dumbledore found he had no appetite at all.***
The feast, the long journey to the dungeons, the sea of unfamiliar faces and names Harry couldn’t remember – it all passed in a haze. He didn’t know what had exhausted him more – the trip to Hogwarts or the following turmoil of the Sorting. But it was done now. He wouldn’t fret over it. No ‘what ifs’, no regrets. He was a Slytherin now. There had to be something good about it. “Too much happened today,” he thought as he climbed into bed. “I’ll never be able to sleep.” Moments later, Harry was fast asleep, curled up under the blanket. And on the neighbouring bed, arms folded behind his head and staring at the ceiling, lay his best friend, a radiant grin never leaving his face. Thomas Archer had never been so happy in his life.
