#c’mon vince you’re telling me no one tried getting rid of that stupid hat

[jesse-pinko]

Yeah okay obviously the stupid hat didn’t actually make Walter more evil but I do believe with my whole heart that we should have gotten one entire B plot of Jesse trying to get rid of the stupid hat but by a string of increasingly convoluted extenuating circumstances being unable to do so

[acciotrashpile]

The Impossible, Chapter 1: The Mistake

(Also available on AO3)

"Hmmmm... I can see you want Slytherin, but is that really where you belong? Is that really what your heart desires? Cunning, yes. Ambition, sure... But you're also full of intelligence and wit. And though you don't have it now, I can see your potential for acceptance. Yes, Ravenclaw would be much better suited for you, much better for you in the long run. I know you won't be happy with me now, but just trust me. You'll be better off. Better be..."

"RAVENCLAW!" The sorting hat bellowed, as Draco Malfoy sat in shock beneath it. Draco Malfoy, whose entire family had been sorted into Slytherin. Draco Malfoy, whose father had spoken to him not six hours ago, who told him he needed to make his family proud. Draco Malfoy, who was now frozen in fear, all because of that one word the Sorting Hat just called out.

A silence fell over the Great Hall, and then quickly erupted into noise as students whispered to one another. A Malfoy? In Ravenclaw? He must be up to something, his family must be up to something. It didn't make sense.

Draco still sat at the front of the Great Hall. Lost. Confused. He opened his mouth to protest. Nothing came out. He normally had some sort of retort, some sort of comeback, but he could come up with nothing. He didn't think this was possible.

He rose, in a zombie-like state, and walked over to the Ravenclaw table. He noticed Harry Potter, the boy who rejected his friendship, standing in the sea of first years waiting to get sorted. He looked just as confused as Draco felt.  

As he sat on the bench, he noticed the other students scooting away from him. It was fine, it was going to be okay, his father would sort this out. He held his head up high, clenching his jaw, tears stinging at his eyes. It was fine. This wasn't permanent. It would all be taken care of.

He didn't notice Harry's eyes boring into him as he was being sorted, a twisted sort of frown on his face.

                               *          *          *          *          *

Draco scrawled a sloppy letter to his father that night, trying to explain there must have been a mistake. Something was wrong, the hat was confused. He could sort it out right? He could fix everything?

He never got a reply.

                               *          *          *          *          *

Draco sat alone in the library the next day, his feet swinging, legs too short to reach the ground. He had spent the night trying to keep the tears from coming. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be rooming with Vince and Greg, eating lunch with Blaise and Pansy. He had a plan, why did that stupid, ratty, old hat have to ruin everything?

He sighed, pulling out some parchment to write another letter home. Maybe his owl had gotten lost. After all, she had never had to fly from Hogwarts before! There must have been some sort of mistake, some shifts in the winds, that kept him from getting a reply from his father. He tried again, explaining that the hat must have been wrong, that it was getting too old to still be doing this sorting business. That maybe someone was playing a prank on him, or someone at the school must have a grudge against the Malfoys and had rigged the whole thing. Some mudblood trying to get back at his father through him.

He signed the letter, and eagerly rolled it up, ready to head off to the owlery. As he came running out of the door, he almost ran straight into the chest of a Slytherin fourth year.

“Watch it, Malfoy ,” He practically grunted, snatching the paper from Draco’s hand. “What’s this, a letter to your precious Daddy? Too bad you’re a traitor, he’s never going to write you back. My dad says he should just get rid of you and start over!” The boy laughed, crumpling the letter and tossing it over his shoulder as he walked away, leaving Draco alone again. This wasn’t right. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

He found himself sitting in the empty hallway, ruined letter in hand, wiping the tears off his face as he sobbed quietly to himself. Everything was wrong. People were supposed to be afraid of him, of his family, not… whatever this was. He startled as he heard a group of footsteps, jumping up, trying to compose himself. Looking weak would only make things worse.

He couldn’t contain his annoyed laugh when of course it was Potter and the Weasel boy, followed closely behind by the giant mess of hair.

“Malfoy? What are you doing here? Why weren’t you at dinner?”

“I don’t belong with them. Nobody wants me there. I don’t want to be there. I’m getting it fixed, my father is going to get me in the right house.”

Stupid dumb Harry Potter rolled his eyes.

“Hermione says that the hat is never wrong. You’re still a stupid git, but maybe you have some good in you after all. Deep down. Deep deep down. Way deep.”

With that, he walked away, Hermione and Ron following behind. He made it about ten steps before he turned around.

“And you might want to start carrying some tissues with you if you’re going to cry in the middle of the hallway. You look a mess.”

                            *          *          *          *          *

Draco came to breakfast the next day. He sat at the Ravenclaw table with his head held high and ate his eggs. He had written two more letters to his father the night before, none of them had been answered. It was starting to look like he was going to be stuck in this stupid house. And if he was going to be stuck here, he had to be strong about it. It was bad enough he was in the house, if his father were to find out he had been crying about it… He shuddered.

Looking around the Great Hall, he noticed a few students pointing and whispering. He sighed. He’d have to get used to that, he supposed. He noticed that some of the students at the Ravenclaw table were sitting closer than the first night. They weren’t really sitting with him, but didn’t seem to be trying to avoid him as much as they were right after the sorting.

His eyes wandered over to the Slytherin table, where he saw Blaise and Pansy sitting together. He waved when he caught Pansy’s eye, a worried look on his face. She gave him a sad smile, and bumped shoulders with Blaise to get his attention, pointing at Draco across the hall. They waved back.

At least he still had them, Draco thought. The other Slytherins might have it out for him, but at least he could still count on his best friends. They’d been inseparable since they were babies, but he had been worried they would disown him as well. He really didn’t know what he would have done without them.

Just as he was pondering this, the Great Hall started to fill with owls. They swooped and dropped letters and parcels to every table. He  was surprised when a heavy package dropped in front of him. He looked up just in time to see his family’s owl fly away.

He unraveled the twine that held the box together, and dug in. Pumpkin Pasties, Chocolate Frog, Cauldron Cakes… And underneath it all, a letter! He dumped the sweets out on the table, so he could read it.

My Darling Draco,

I’m so glad you got into a good house. If it couldn’t be Slytherin, at least it was Ravenclaw, not one of those other nonsense houses. Your father, on the other hand, is… upset. Better not write for a while. Give him some time to adjust. It’s hard on him, you know.  I had to sneak this letter in, he didn’t even want me to send the chocolates. I convinced him, but I don’t want to push it. I’ll send you post as often as I can.

Stay strong.

Mother

Draco blinked tears away.  Mother was right. At least he wasn’t in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. At least he still had Pansy and Blaise in his corner. At least his mother still loved him, even if his father was basically choosing to ignore his existence.

He didn’t notice that Harry was watching him across the Hall.

                         *          *          *          *          *

The next few months passed by slowly for Draco. He didn’t speak much with anyone except for Blaise and Pansy, when he had the chance. He had found a girls’ bathroom on the first floor that nobody used. He would send notes to Blaise and Pansy telling them when to meet, so that the other Slytherins wouldn’t find out. The only downside was that it was haunted, but that just guaranteed they would never be interrupted. Nobody wanted to put up with the ghost who wouldn’t stop crying. Moaning Myrtle, they called her.

Draco learned the hard way not to call her that to her face.

He got sweets from Mother every few days or so, less often there was a letter hidden inside. They never said much except that she loved him, and to stay strong. They stopped mentioning his father.

The Ravenclaws didn’t pay him much attention. They never outright excluded him, except when it came to studying. He always ended up doing that alone, in the library. Somehow it was always when Potter and his friends were there.

Perfect Potter, who had somehow survived the Dark Lord. Perfect Potter, who had somehow made the quidditch team as a first year. Perfect Potter... Draco thought. Everyone thinks he’s so smart. Wonderful Potter. With his scar, and his broomstick.

Potter, who had shushed Ron when he questioned Draco about what he was up to.

“Just because his family is bad, doesn’t mean he is.” He had said. “You’re not who your family is. I should know.”

And with that, he had left. Nothing more, nothing less.

Except.

Except he had also stood up for Draco when he was being threatened in the hallway by a group of second year Slytherins. “Blood Traitor, Blood Traitor, Blood Traitor” they had been chanting, wands out and aimed at him.

“What, are you too stupid to know any other insults?” Harry had shouted, Ron, Hermione, and a few other Gryffindors were flanked behind him. The must have been on their way to class together. Draco cringed, how much more embarrassing could this get? “It’s not his fault you were too dumb to get into Ravenclaw!”

He had grabbed Draco’s sleeve and pulled him out of the crowd.

“C’mon, Malfoy, you git. Don't want to be late. I know your precious grades are important to you Ravenclaws.”

Draco had pulled his arm away roughly.

“I don't need your help, Potter.”

And with that he had turned on his heels and stormed off, leaving the group of Gryffindors behind him, trying to ignore the outrage of Potter’s lackeys, shouting about how he should have just left the Slytherins to hex him. Malfoy didn’t deserve his help.

He didn’t see Harry shrug them off and continue to class.

                          *          *          *          *          *

It was well into December, a few days before Christmas break, when it happened. He was sitting at breakfast, muttering to the closest Ravenclaw that the bacon looked overcooked, when the owls came in. And his owl dropped a red envelope.

A Howler.

The Ravenclaw table quieted and stared, as Draco picked it up. Should he run? Did he have enough time to make it to the hallway? He thought better of it, took a deep breath, and opened it gently. His father’s voice boomed across the room.

DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY.  

DO NOT COME HOME FOR CHRISTMAS.

YOUR MOTHER AND I WILL BE AWAY.

And with that, the letter shred itself up, and rained down like confetti on the table. He swallowed and looked around. The Hall had gone silent. Everyone was staring. Everyone.

He bit down on his lip hard to try and stop it from quivering. Mother hadn't written about this! He had already packed his bag! He needed to get away from this place!

He locked eyes with Potter, who was looking at him thoughtfully. He quickly looked away, back to the mess of paper in his breakfast. Pushing his plate away, he buried his face in his hands, wishing the ground would swallow him up.

It was the next day that Potter approached him in the hallway, his hands wringing together nervously.

“I know we aren’t friends or anything, but if you want, I have to stay for Christmas, too. You can hang out with me… Ron’s taught me wizard chess and everything. We can play. If you like.”

Maybe Potter wasn’t so bad after all.