Heir's of Hogwarts

Every year, as the first-years stepped off the Hogwarts Express, their emotions and thoughts varied. Some were excited, some proud, some nervous, some worried. And inevitably, there was always at least one who was scared they would be sent home. This year, there were three.

But, as each of the three alighted from the Express and stepped onto the Hogsmeade station platform, their fear began to ebb, replaced with a warm, comforting feeling, almost as though the station was welcoming them home.

None of the three realized that, in it's own way, that is exactly what the station was doing. They had no way of knowing it, but their boat ride was the smoothest one; none were in danger of tumbling out. As they climbed the rock passageway, the three never slipped. And as they stepped off the damp grass onto the stone steps of the castle, each was filled with all of Hogwarts' warmth and love.

None of the three had any way of knowing that they were the only ones to feel this.

oOo

"Hmmm… at last," the hat said.

"How do you pick our Houses, please?" Hermione mentally asked. "Hogwarts, A History, wasn't clear on that; only that you are the one who does so."

The hat chuckled. "Oh yes, I know where I would have sorted you. Unfortunately, My Lady, I will need to answer your question another time. Right now, however, I have a bit of a surprise for everyone."

"A surprise? In my sorting?" Suddenly her greatest fear flashed through Hermione's mind. This was all some sort of elaborate hoax. She was going to be sent home now, while everyone laughed at her.

The hat squeezed her head lightly, almost like a hug. "You can never be sent away from this castle, My Lady," he assured her. "I just won't be sorting you at this time. Now, If you could please step to the side!"

The last bit was shouted loud enough for the entire hall to hear, and Hermione fought back her tears as McGonagall lifted the hat off her head. It had said she wouldn't be going home, but why did she have to be different, even here?

Hermione couldn't remember a single instance in Hogwarts, A History, where students weren't sorted. Not that she needed to have read that; the murmuring of the other students and the strange looks she was getting from the staff table were more than enough to confirm that she was, once again, different.

oOo

As Neville made his way to the hat, he was so nervous he tripped over his own feet and fell. He had worried, ever since getting his Hogwarts letter, that the Sorting Hat would decide that he hadn't enough magic after all, and send him back home in disgrace. He had believed that that was the worst possible thing that could happen, though being sorted into Slytherin with the children of those who had hurt his parents was a close second.

Now, seeing what had happened to Hermione, and after she had been nice to him on the train, Neville had a new greatest fear.

"Ah, and here's the second one," the Hat declared as soon as it landed on his head.

Neville's dread grew.

"I see," the Hat said, clearly reading his thoughts. "We shall need to do something about that, though not tonight, obviously. There will be time enough in the morning. Still, better get on with it."

Neville wasn't sure if he was expected to respond to any of this. The Hat seemed to be talking to itself, rather than to him. "Er…"

"If you could please step to the side!" The Hat yelled again, and Neville felt ready to faint. He got up and shuffled over to Hermione, belatedly remembered he was still wearing the Hat, and returned to the stool. The Professor pulled it off of him with a strange look on her face and then gestured for Neville to again join Hermione. Head hanging, he did.

When he got beside her, he noticed that Hermione was trembling, and her face was fearful. Looking at him, however, seemed to give her a little hope. Neville clung to that hope as well; he wasn't the only one.

oOo

Part of Harry had been waiting for this moment since the first letter came. Just because the Dursleys weren't capable of playing this kind of joke on him didn't mean that someone else wasn't doing it. Of course, Harry couldn't imagine who would go to all of this elaborate trouble just to prank him but it was a distinct possibility.

By the time the Train had pulled into the station and he had made his first ever friend, the fear of a prank had faded from Harry. Of course, the mystery of the sorting had brought it all back. What if he wasn't sorted and just sent home?

Then, as though his greatest fear was coming to life, the bushy-haired witch - Granger, Hermione - the stern teacher had called her, wasn't sorted. Then the boy with the toad, Neville, wasn't either. Harry couldn't help but notice that they had been on the same boat as he and Ron, and he began to worry that whatever had happened to those two to make them unsortable had happened to he and Ron as well.

Harry barely noticed the sorting of the handful of people between Longbottom and Potter as he fretted, until his name being called caught his attention. The whole hall was whispering about him now, and somehow Harry just knew that something strange was about to happen to him.

The Hat was placed on his head, and it immediately spoke in Harry's mind. "There you are, young Potter. I've been waiting for you."

"Er, Not Slytherin, please," Harry thought. Though, on second thought, if his choices were Slytherin or going home, Harry knew which he would chose.

"That isn't for me to say, My Lord," the Hat replied. "I think you are about to get your greatest wish, disguised as your greatest fear."

"What?"

Instead of answering, the Hat yelled, "If you could please step to the side!"

Miserably, Harry removed the Hat and joined the other two.