Draco's Mudblood - Draco Malfoy Fan Fiction - *Year One*

The Sorting Ceremony

Isobel could hardly believe her eyes.

She'd seen countless photos of Hogwarts in the books she'd read, even in Jesalynn's old photo book from her own years here, but it was nothing compared to seeing the entrance hall with her own eyes. The group of first years stood before a grand marble staircase, staring with wide eyes at the torch-lined walls that stretched so high up you couldn't make out the ceiling even if you tried. There were paintings with people inside, moving about as though they were looking through a window from the other side. Suits of armour shone brightly in the dim orange and gold light from the torches and the great chandelier in the middle of the room.

The sight caught her breath in her lungs and her heart in her throat.

Hagrid passed them off to a woman with black hair tucked neatly into a witches hat and emerald robes that flashed around her feet like jewels. She led them across the hall and down a small chamber outside a huge set of double doors that emitted what sounded like hundreds of voices. The first years stopped to peer up at her.

The woman, whom Hagrid called Professor McGonagall, began a rather lengthy speech about Hogwarts. She explained the Houses and the sorting process, the rules and the importance of following them to earn your House points before she strode off. However Isobel would admit she was rather distracted throughout the Professor's introduction.

"Your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts."

It was the part of her speech that intrigued her the most, that made her chest tight with hope. Isobel smiled at the thought. A family with the Weasleys sounded nice (she would never be bored, that was for sure), but she knew better than to get her hopes up for any House in particular, and a family was all she had ever dreamed of.

The woman came back moments later and shooed off a group of ghosts that Isobel hadn't even noticed in the midst of her daydreaming. She lined up the first years.

The time had come.

The Great Hall was magnificent. At the other end of the Hall sat the professors, and before them were four long tables, crowded with students. The tabletops were empty except for golden plates and goblets that twinkled in the candle light. And oh, the candles; Hundreds, maybe thousands of them floated through the air and stretched up to the ceiling, which didn't look very much like a ceiling at all, but rather the open and starry night sky.

The woman led them to the front of the Hall, and Isobel spotted the third year Gryffindors from the train. She smiled at them nervously when they spotted her. The Weasley twins gave her two sets of thumbs up.

A ratty, fraying hat was sat down on a stool in front of the teachers. A moment's silence passed without so much as a word before the brim of the hat tore open, and began to move.

It sang.

Isobel would dearly wish she'd paid more attention to the song as soon as it was over and the hall broke out into applause (the Twins screaming rather loudly over all the rest), but as the hat began to sing she'd noticed a boy. He had very pale blonde hair, thickly gelled to his skull, and he stood in a very bored manner, arms crossed and leaning one one foot defiantly. She felt as though she recognised him from somewhere, he felt familiar...

"Who's that?" She whispered to Theodore, still loyally by her side, but he only shrugged. She could almost piece a name together, but she was missing part of the name and she couldn't figure out where the second part was hiding in her brain-

"Anderson, Isobel!"

Her name being called was what pulled her from the trance she'd been in. Was it her turn already? Her knees were wobbly as she shuffled forward. The eyes of the other students bore holes into her soul. Her breath wouldn't come out steadily. She sat and looked out at the other students, her heart in her throat. Why hadn't any of the books she'd read told her how nerve racking this was?

The last face she saw was Fred's. He was grinning up at her, ear to ear.

She'd lectured herself not to wish for one House in particular. It was a blessing, a miracle, that someone had managed to find even the tiniest drop of magic in her blood. It wasn't unheard of that people like her got magic but it was rare, extremely rare, and yet here she was.

Jesalynn had scolded her rather strongly about using the word muggle when referring to herself. She never truly understood why, but her aunt was fervent about the matter. Isobel was a witch, regardless of blood, and referring to herself as muggle-born was 'unnecessary'. Isobel got the feeling there was more to it than that (why else would they have spent years fabricating a story about her fake pure-blood family in the States?), but she couldn't place the sense of dread she got when thinking about it. What did it matter if she had a magic family?

Regardless, Isobel had defied the odds that were against her. It was extremely rare for muggles to get magic, and yet someone had managed to find some in her veins. She should just be grateful she was here at all and be content in whatever House the hat sorted her into.

Yet with the last look into Fred Weasley's eyes, and the memories of how warm she had felt on the ride to Hogwarts, she felt her heart betray her. She wanted a home, a family, in Gryffindor.

Isobel figured the sensation only describable as a bee buzzing around in her skull must have been the hat humming, intrigued, on her head. "Hmm... well, this is interesting."

"What is?" It was barely a whisper.

She could feel the hat smile. "I know where I'll put you, of course, but you... you're not like the others I would put you with. I'm unsure of the right thing to do. You long for a warm place, a place you are welcomed... a family, one that won't cast you out as your mother did..." Isobel winced. No one had ever said it so bluntly before, as true as it was. "But this... this is the hardest part of my job."

"What is?"

Its voice was sad. "Knowing you will hate me for my decision."

Her heart lurched. She had been going full-speed, and now she was slamming the breaks.

"You're strong-willed, Anderson... and you're shrewd, though you haven't broken into your perceptive skills quite yet, not to their full potential... but so very, very perceptive..."

"I-I don't understand." Why was it saying these things? Not getting into Gryffindor wasn't a big deal, although it made her sad to think about it, so why did the hat seem so sad, so concerned for her?

"You may not now, but one day you will... And I'm sorry, but... your destiny does not lie where you wish it did."

She could only barely hear the announcement the hat made to the room over the ringing in her ears.

"SLYTHERIN!"