The Sanctity of the Sorting Hat by DesertPlanet

The rules had changed. He knew they would. They always had in the past, so what was the point of assuming anything different here.

Everyone had been so nice to him, how could he not have seen it for what it was? Stupid. Stupid boy. Stupid freak.

He had been slowly picking at his food under Theo and Draco’s watchful eyes when it happened. It had felt good to eat and have someone making sure he ate. He was still worried about getting caught, however. That’s when the worst punishments happened.

He saw the blur of Professor’s Snape and McGonagall coming down from the head table and immediately dropped the fork he was struggling to eat his pasta with.

He was caught.

“Harry, keep eating,” Draco said quietly.

Harry shook his head, eyes wide, staring at his plate. Here they came. They had been so kind to let him eat for as long as they had, but now they knew. Something must have tipped them off that he was a freak and shouldn’t be allowed food.

“Mr. Potter,” Professor Snape said, sending icey chills lapping down his spine. “If you would follow us please.”

Shaking subtly, Harry stood and followed the two adults, mind racing as he followed them out of the room. Was he being removed from Hogwarts? What had he done wrong? Was he going to be sent back?

Continuing to follow the professors, he anxiously noted they were leading him further into the castle than he had ever been before. They must have been on the sixth or seventh floor when Professor McGonagall opened a door and motioned for both men to enter in front of her. Professor Snape immediately sat in one of the chairs in front of a large desk while Harry stood closer to the door.

“Sit, Mr. Potter,” Professor Snape said, rather flippantly, not truly looking at the pre-teen.

‘In the chair, Harry’ Draco’s voice whispered in his ear as he remembered he was allowed to sit on the furniture. It was so hard to remember all of the new rules.

“Mr. Potter, I’m just going to cut to the chase here,” Professor McGonagall said, sitting behind the large desk and folding her hands. “You seem to be struggling in Slytherin house. We’ve noticed you are not eating well, nor are you socializing with your house-mates. This in addition to some rather… insistent… concerned individuals contacting both the Headmaster and the Minister of Magic have led to us making a rather difficult decision.”

Harry paled, but continued to not make eye contact with the woman sitting in front of him. Here it came. He was being kicked out of school, he could feel it. He would be sent back to the Dursleys and… his mind fogged slightly as his anxiety flared. He didn’t want to think about it. He doubted he would survive if he were sent home. This had been his only chance to escape, and he had ruined it already. What had he done wrong? He had been trying so hard!

“...to Gryffindor,” Professor McGonagall was speaking, smiling at him slightly. “I will be your new Head of House. Of course, Professor Snape will still be available for you to speak to, should you feel more comfortable speaking to him about any issues you may have, though I would prefer you to come to me first.”

“Ma’am?” Harry said quietly, in confusion having missed the first portion of her statement.

“Not to worry, Harry,” Professor McGonagall said, smiling still. “Soon enough, you’ll find friends within Gryffindor.”

Harry felt as though he had been dunked in a bucket of ice water. He wasn’t getting kicked out of Hogwarts, but he was getting moved from Slytherin. Away from his friends. Away from his bed. Away from the nice food. He should have known it was too good to be true.

Closing his eyes, he willed the tears to stop pricking his eyes. The rules had changed again. He knew they would. They changed all the time at the Dursley’s, why would here be any different?

“Your things have already been moved from Slytherin, Mr. Potter,” Professor Snape said calmly, though Harry could sense some anger coming from the man. Had he angered his… the Head of Slytherin? He would have to remember he was not a Slytherin any more.

Harry nodded silently, obediently. The choice was already made for him, he wasn’t allowed to fight it. There wasn’t any point anyways, fighting only brought pain. He didn’t know if he could take any more pain, the wounds from his uncle’s ‘going away present’ were still not fully healed. He had no doubt in his mind that the witch and wizard in the room with him could do much worse to him if he failed to comply appropriately.

“Come, Harry,” Professor McGonagall said, the smile on her normally stern face becoming rather disconcerting to Harry. “Let’s go meet your house-mates.”

Panic began to flood back in as he stood, he could tell his hands were shaking so he quickly shoved them into his pockets. He didn’t know what to expect from his new House. He hadn’t expected any kindness from the Slytherins and still wasn’t sure if they were sincere in their actions. If Slytherin was an unknown to him, Gryffindor would be worse. He had already seen how they could be nice at some points but turn their back and be horribly mean.

He didn’t want to go there, but what choice did he have?

Standing to follow his new Head of House, he briefly looked back at Professor Snape hoping the man would say it was a joke. It wasn’t a funny joke, but the jokes played on Harry never were. Locking eyes with the man, he nearly opened his mouth to plead his case but couldn’t find it in himself to do so. The man’s eyes seemed to burn into his soul and Harry turned away after a moment of eye contact. There wasn’t any point to begging anyways.

Harry followed Professor McGonagall out of the office door, head down, missing the look of utter confusion the potions master was looking at him with.

Severus had not been expecting that. Far from it.

The boy had been acting surly all morning, sneering at his food, looking as though he had had to be drug out of bed by one of the other boys, and hardly talking to the other Slytherins. This had been how he had been acting since he had arrived at Hogwarts. He had kept acting as though he were above it all, looking down on the meals provided, staying up late talking to his housemates. He had even managed to somehow convince Theodore Nott to tie his shoes and tie for him.

If Nott Sr. saw his son bowing to anyone other than the Dark Lord in such a manner, Severus doubted the boy would live to see twelve. It was better, safer, that Potter not be in Slytherin.

But that look the boy had given him as Minerva led him to the Gryffindor tower for the first time. It was so unsettling. The panic in his eyes was palpable. But that wasn’t even the part that was surprising.

Potter had used legilimency.

Severus doubted he had meant to do it, but the instant Potter made eye contact with him, Severus could feel the connection. And he didn’t like what he felt at all. Potter had sucked him in for that brief moment, but that was all he needed to begin questioning everything he thought about the boy.

Pouring himself another glass of brandy, Severus thought back on what little he had managed to glean from the momentary connection.

The emotions he had felt coming off the boy certainly didn’t line up with what he thought he knew about the boy. Pure, unbridled anxiety laced every one of the boy’s thoughts. There was no arrogance or pride he could feel from the boy, only panic. Panic and confusion. It was as though the boy were on the verge of crying. There were no positive thoughts on going to Gryffindor, only sadness. Sadness and pain.

“Please! Why?!” the boy had screamed out with his mind in the brief moment of connection they had had.

Severus was confused. There was no possible way the boy had known what he was doing when he made that connection. The anxiety in the boy was as palpable now as the day the boy started hyperventilating in class after being asked a question. At the time, he thought the child was just unprepared for class and had test anxiety. Now, however, it seemed that anxiety permeated more than just the classroom.

He had been rather relieved when the boy had been taken from his house as he had thought the boy was being a prat like his father. His biggest bone of contention with the entire arrangement had been that all of his protests had been overridden. He would have been completely written out of the conversation had he not continued to push his way into it. The level of hatred and persecution those in his house had faced since the fall of the Dark Lord was absurd and he couldn’t stand for it. There were days where he felt the weight of trying to advocate for his students and his House. He had had a mild sense of hope that this would change when Potter was sorted there, but as he continued to fail to integrate in and ostracized himself from the house, this small sliver of hope rapidly waned.

Sever felt at a loss. Had he missed something about Potter? Was the boy really that cunning or were his observations of the boy highly skewed by his dislike of the boy’s father?

The fact it could likely be the latter of the two made his stomach crawl. He had tried to be a fair and impartial judge of his students, leaving their family histories out of how he treated them. The emotions he felt at seeing a miniaturized version of his former tormenter had made him feel rather raw yet again, as though he was seeing James again for the first time in years. He thought he had overcome that, however.

Apparently not.

It was a pity this hadn’t occurred while the boy was in Slytherin; it would have been so much easier to observe the boy then.

He hoped he hadn’t missed something important.

‘This is bad. Bad bad. Really bad,’ Harry thought, skittering around the corner and ducking behind one of the many statues, heart pounding.

“Come out, Potty!” he heard Seamus’s voice echoing down the hallway. “Come out you slimy little snake!”

He hated Gryffindor. Every part of it.

The instant he walked into the tower, he realized immediately how different things were going to be here. The common room was a gaudy mess of red and gold, with large couches Harry was sure he wasn’t allowed to touch and a roaring fire. As if the bright colors and overall chaotic nature of the room wasn’t overstimulating enough, there were also many moving portraits, large windows overlooking the grounds, and hoards of students sitting around doing nothing but talking or playing games. The urge to plug his ears to block out the sound was enormous, but he knew that would be looked down on.

The boys dorm itself was a mess, he quickly discovered. Ron, the red-head he had briefly met on the train, had a rat that was allowed free reign in the dorm, as was Neville's toad. Robes and various undergarments were scattered about, as were a variety of quidditch magazines. He doubted Professor McGonagall ever did a walk through to make sure things were being well kept.

Then there were the Gryffindors themselves.

It was immediately apparent to Harry that the other boys did not want him there. As soon as McGonagall left, they started badgering him ruthlessly about everything. Could they see his scar? Did Slytherin kick him out? Why was he moving in with them? Was he a Gryffindor now? Why hadn’t the hat sorted him properly the first time? Was he a spy?

When he didn’t answer their questions, choosing to remain silent instead for fear of breaking a rule he didn’t know, they didn’t let up with the interrogation becoming more and more hostile until he was sitting in a ball in the corner, fingers laced in his hair.

He didn’t go to class that morning which only led to the Gryffindor boys believing he was going through their belongings. Relations only deteriorated from there. Only Neville wanted to talk to him, but even he was put off by the fact Harry had been a Slytherin and was not immediately social as well. Ron, Seamus, and Dean, on the other hand, made it a point to make him regret ‘trying to be a spy.’

He forgot to shower for several days, leading to comments from the other boys about his smell and the nickname ‘Potty’ being given to him. He tried to study, but discovered one of the other boys had taken one of his books and claimed it was theirs. He tried to argue that theirs was under their bed, but they ignored him in favor of claiming he was trying to steal their books like the slimy snake he was. He went to the library to try and study, but was kicked out rather quickly by Madam Pince due to being too loud as the other boys had followed him and been complaining he was contaminating the books.

This time, they were after him because they had seen him talking to Draco. Or rather, Draco talking to him. Draco had been wanting to talk to him, but the Gryffindors kept getting in the way. During Charms, Draco had sat next to him as no one else wanted to. But Harry was good. He knew if he got caught talking to Draco, he would be in trouble. Draco kept talking to him though. He hadn’t stopped.

And now Harry had to pay.

“Come on, Potty!” Dean yelled down the hall. “We just want to give your hair a little wash! Got some Slytherin slime in it!”

It was just like Harry Hunting, only now the people hunting him had magic. Harry had taken to always wearing robes to make sure he was as protected as he could be from the stings of the spells they sent his way. If they didn’t impede his movement, he would also likely have worn his dragon-hide potions gloves to cover his hands. He wished his hair wasn’t so curly so he could grow it out to help protect his face.

“Where aaaaare you?” he heard Seamus say in a rather sing-song voice.

“Come on, guys, he’s probably run off to cry to Snape,” Ron said, sounding slightly worried.

“I guess,” Dean said, rather disappointed. “Come on, let's go watch Quidditch try-outs!”

Harry held his breath as he heard their footsteps head towards the stairs. He didn’t release the breath until he was sure they were gone, surprising himself when it came out as a sob. Quickly he bit his lip trying to prevent his cries from drawing attention. But he couldn’t stop, the tears pouring from his eyes unbidden. Burying his head in his arms he let his sleeves muffle his cries.

What had he done wrong?

“Ugh! Why does it smell like garbage in here?” Ron said, covering his nose with his hand as the smell of rotting food reached his nose.

“It’s Potty’s stuff,” Dean said. “Dunno what he keeps in there, but his trunk smells like a rubbish bin.”

“Of course,” Ron scoffed, getting up and walking over to the boy’s bed. He had never actually seen Potty sleep in it of course, but he didn’t care. It was nearly midnight now, if Potty was going to sleep here tonight, he would have already been here.

Harry Potter was supposed to be the savior of the Wizarding World, instead he was a weird, gross kid who smelled of garbage, didn’t shower, was scared of his own shadow, and never slept or ate. Sure he was ok in class, but he wasn’t anything more than an average student. He never put in any extra effort in anything he did. He was pathetic. It felt like another lifetime that Ron had sat with the boy on the train, but even then they hadn’t talked. Potty was just too weird.

Kicking open the trunk, Ron looked at the contents in disgust. There were only a few school books, some muggle clothes that looked as though they could be worn by an elephant, and an entire side of the trunk which was covered in mold.

“Oh, Merlin!” Ron said, poking at the mold with his wand. “What the hell is this from?”

“What?” Seamus said, closing his magazine and walking over to look in the trunk. “UGH! No wonder! Hey, Nev, come ‘ere! What kind of mold is this?”

Neville looked up from his herbology book in concern. There was mold in the dorm? No wonder it was hard to breathe sometimes! Going over to the trunk, he looked in as well, nose wrinkled in disgust. He had been wondering about the smell too.

“Blue mold,” he said, looking at the mold in the other boy’s trunk. “Food rot.”

“He was keeping food in his trunk?!” Dean said in disgust. “Perishable food?”

“Gross!”

“Let’s get rid of it! I don’t think I can stand the smell any more!”

“I think I’m going to blow chunks!”

Slamming the trunk lid shut, the boys looked at each other in disgust. It wouldn’t be hard to sneak the trunk out, but where to get rid of it? It wasn’t like there were skips around.

“Ron, can you go see if there’s astronomy class going on right now?” Seamus said. “If not, we take this rubbish bin to the tower and burn it.”

“What about his stuff?” Neville asked, wringing his hands.

“What about it? There’s mold in there. It’s making the dorm smell like a garbage pit.”

Neville nodded, looking sadly at the trunk. Yes, Potter smelled bad, and so did his trunk, but Neville doubted getting rid of the trunk was going to solve the problem. In fact, getting rid of what few belongings the boy had might make the issue worse.

Why was he keeping food in there anyways?

His trunk was gone. His food stash: gone. His work clothes for when he inevitably went back to the Dursley’s: gone. His trainers: gone. His potions book: gone.

Harry sat on the floor of the empty dorm in shock. The name tag was still on his bed, letting him know he hadn’t been moved to yet another dorm. So where was his trunk?

He felt tears beginning to well up in his eyes again. He never cried this much at the Dursley’s, but that was because he wasn’t allowed to. This had been his hope. His escape from their torment and torture. He had hoped this would be a home. A family.

Since being forced to move to Gryffindor, this hadn’t been the case. This wasn’t his home. This wasn’t his family. This was just another hell in which he was forced to stay.

He couldn’t do it anymore. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to Slytherin. If he couldn’t go there he… he didn’t know what he would do.

“Come in, Miss Farley,” Severus said, seeing one of his prefects standing at the door to his office. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m worried about Potter,” she said abruptly as she sat on the stool in front of the man’s desk.

Severus immediately put down his quill. He had been doing a lot of thinking about the day they had removed Potter from Slytherin. No one on staff seemed to actually know much about the boy other than what they had been told by the media. The boy’s other professors noted he was quiet and rather anxious, but was overall a good student. A common theme, however, was that he never sat with the other Gryffindor boys. Even at dinner, he would come in, take a few small items and run.

The first year Slytherins seemed mildly concerned by this, however no one had come to him yet with concerns and he, quite honestly, hadn’t had the time to look into the issue more thoroughly. Besides, he was now in Minerva’s jurisdiction.

But, as a Slytherin prefect had now approached him, it forced his hand.

“What are your concerns,” he said, giving the girl his full attention. The urge to use legilimency on her to see what she saw was extremely high, but that went well beyond breaching someone’s privacy.

“Well, sir, I’m sure you’ve seen how nervous the boy is,” Gemma started slowly, making sure to use the right words to get her point across properly. “During the Welcoming Feast, I as well as several of the other Slytherins were trying to get him to eat. He seemed afraid of touching the food, you see.”

“Afraid to eat?” Severus said, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end. From his vantage point at the head table, he had believed the boy was not wanting to eat due to the quality of the food. Already, this wasn’t boding well.

“Yes, sir. As though he were afraid of being punished,” Gemma continued, noting the slight pallor in her Head of House. “I nudged him slightly, trying to get him to eat more. I’m not positive, sir, but I believe he may have had an injury as he winced quite badly from the small nudge I gave him.”

“Why have you not come to me with this before,” Severus said, rather disappointed. They were now several weeks into the school year, any injuries the boy had could very well have been healed by now.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Gemma said, blushing fiercely but refusing to lower her head in shame. “My course load was heavier than expected and once he was moved from Slytherin, I haven’t been able to observe him as easily.”

Severus nodded in acceptance. “Have you witnessed something else?”

“Yes, sir. He’s been losing weight. He doesn’t eat anything in the Great Hall anymore. I also believe he may be hoarding food somewhere within the castle as he always pockets some small item and protects it as though it may be taken from him.

“I also believe the Gryffindors may be bullying him. I’ve heard them calling him names and noticed how he shies away from them. I don’t know how physical they’ve gotten, but if he was able to cover up injuries at the beginning of the year, who knows how high of a pain tolerance he has.”

Severus felt his frown deepen greatly. He had noticed the boy had started wearing robes everywhere, much like he had found himself doing when he was younger to avoid some of the hexes James Potter would throw at him, but he had hoped it was because the boy just found them more comfortable.

“Anything else you would like to tell me?”

“No sir, though I believe the first year Slytherin boys may be able to corroborate some of my story.”

Severus nodded. “Thank you Miss Farley. Please come to me promptly if you witness anything else.”

“Thank you sir,” Gemma said, leaving quickly.

Severus folded his hands in thought. He needed to speak with the first year Slytherins immediately. Hearing Miss Farley speak about the boy made his stomach drop. He had certainly missed something major.

Now he needed to correct for that. And promptly.

Harry made his way as swiftly to the dungeons as he could, trying his hardest to dodge any students who were coming from that direction. He wanted to go home. He didn’t want to be a Gryffindor. He wanted to be with his friends. He wanted to lay in a bed at night to sleep, not hide in a weird shaped cabinet he found on the first floor. He wanted to sit with friends who let him eat and made sure he wasn’t just eating an apple or a roll.

He’d had a taste of family and he wanted it back. He was tired of being the unwanted child.

He wanted a friend.

Wiping his eyes, he turned the corner to head into the dungeons and ran directly into Seamus and Dean who were coming back from detention with Snape.

“Well look who we have here!” Seamus said, backing Harry into a side hallway. “What’re you doing down here, Potty?”

Harry frantically shook his head, trying to scramble away from the advancing boys as quickly as he could. His back hit a wall. He was trapped. Trapped in a small hallway away from the main thoroughfares of the castle. Trapped while obviously heading down to the dungeons.

“Come to rat on us some more, I suppose,” Dean said, creeping ever closer. “You know what we just spent the last hour and a half doing Potty?”

Harry shook his head, not looking either boy in the eye. It wouldn’t matter what he said or did, they were out for his blood. He could feel it.

“We just spent the last hour and a half disemboweling toads for the greasy bat of the dungeons,” Seamus said. “He said it was for ‘goofing off in class,’ but I think we know the real reason, don’t we Dean.”

“Some smelly Gryffindor wanna-be keeps spreading rumors,” Dean said.

Harry’s legs felt as though they were made of lead. There was no point to running, they would just catch him again. And again. And again. But he wouldn’t cry in front of them. He wouldn’t give them that satisfaction.

Suddenly, a fist made contact with his abdomen. Instinctively he bent forward, only to have another fist catch him under the jaw and send his head flying backwards. His knees gave out as his head hit the wall. A foot caught him in his ribs, refracturing the poorly healed rib he had come from the Dursley’s with. Another kick dislodged it. One more sent the rib into his lung.

He gasped at the pain, paying no mind to what was going on around him. It was getting harder to breathe.

No more blows were coming, but he couldn’t move to run. He tried, but every move he made sent waves of pain through his chest. Breath was coming to him in gasps. He could feel his lungs weren’t moving right.

Opening his eyes, he could see the other boys had left finally. But he couldn’t move. And he couldn’t breathe.

“Help!” he whimpered softly as he saw a figure walk by the hall he was lying in. “Help… me!”

“Potter?!” a familiar voice said as the figure walked towards him.

“Help-” Harry gasped once more before the world grew dark around him.