Title: That Potter Boy (Rewrite)

Summary: Rewrite of "That Potter Boy", AU, Slytherin!Harry, Manipulative!Dumbledore, eventual HPDM slash. Harry James Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, is sure he knows where he'll be Sorted—until, at least, the Sorting Hat decides that Potter belongs elsewhere. He must grapple with friends, enemies, and more to know where he truly belongs.

Warnings: Language, violence, torture, het and slash and femslash, politics, character death (both major and minor, both good and bad), emotional distress

Notes: So I wrote the original version of That Potter Boy a while ago, but I didn't have much of an outline, and didn't really have any sort of idea as to where I wanted the story to go. I'm actually rewriting several of my stories, in case you didn't know, so this is the rewrite for my Odd Turn of Events Series. (I'm also going to be rewriting my time-travel AU Time, just to let you know, in case you read my original version). At the moment, I'm unsure if I will write this as one long file or seven separate stories, so I added warnings for all seven years, as well as marked the genre for all seven years, just in case. And I think that's it. So here we go, I suppose.

Disclaimer: Any recognizable characters, settings, events, concepts, spells, and objects belong, not to me, but to JK Rowling. I am not claiming ownership of them, and intend no copyright infringement. I am writing this story for fun, not for profit. (Also, I do not own the Sorting Hat's song that is included in this first chapter.)

Chapter One: Arguments with the Sorting Hat

Harry paid close attention to the Sorting Hat's song, hoping to gain some sort of information from it. He didn't know much about the Houses, after all, and even though an old hat's song was hardly a reliable source of information, Harry supposed that it was better than nothing.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The student body applauded. To Harry's right, Ron looked confused and slightly disturbed. Harry felt the same way.

"Does it sing that every year?" he whispered to the redhead.

Ron shrugged, and, the moment the rest of the students stopped clapping, Ron did, too.

Professor McGonagall unrolled the scroll she was holding, and began to read. "Abbott, Hannah!"

Hannah stepped cautiously out of the clump of first years and sat on the three-legged stool. Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat on the girl's head, and moments later, the Hat declared, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Boot, Terry!" and "Brocklehurst, Mandy!" both went to Ravenclaw. Then "Brown, Lavender!" became the first new Gryffindor, and "Bulstrode, Millicent!" the first new Slytherin. "Corner, Michael!" and "Cornfoot, Stephen!" were both sent to Ravenclaw, and "Crabbe, Vincent!"—one of the boys who had followed Malfoy on the train—and "Davis, Tracey!" both became new Slytherins.

Harry fought the urge to tune the Sorting out; he was much too interested. Besides, he thought, if there are any more people like Malfoy, any more people who I need to watch out for, I can figure that out here.

"Entwhistle, Kevin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Finnigan, Seamus!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Goldstein, Anthony!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Goyle, Gregory!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

Goyle was Malfoy's other...friend? No, Malfoy seemed to treat Crabbe and Goyle more like servants than friends.

"Granger, Hermione!"—the girl from the train—sat on the stool for almost a minute before being Sorted into Gryffindor. Next to Harry, Ron audibly groaned.

"Greengrass, Daphne!" was then sent to Slytherin, and both "Hopkins, Wayne!" and "Jones, Megan!" to Hufflepuff.

The names were quickly approaching Harry's. Harry was nervous. He would have appreciated it if this entire ordeal occurred in private, instead of in front of the entire student body and all of the teachers, Harry thought, as "Li, Sue!" was made a Slytherin.

"Longbottom, Neville!" who Harry recognized as the boy who kept losing his toad, sat on the stool for nearly five minutes before the Hat decided to place him in Gryffindor. He had even run off wearing the Hat, and had to jog back, laughing, to give it to "MacDougal, Morag!" who was then Sorted into Hufflepuff. "Macmillan, Ernest!" followed her to the same table.

The hat had barely touched Malfoy's head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" Harry wasn't surprised. He hadn't heard much about Slytherins, but Malfoy fit the description of what he had heard, at least so far.

McGonagall was getting close to Harry's name.

"Malone, Roger!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

"Moon, Lily!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Nott, Theodore!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

"Parkinson, Pansy!"

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Patil, Padma!" was Sorted into Ravenclaw, and then her twin sister, "Patil, Parvati!" went to Gryffindor. "Perks, Sally-Anne!" followed and was also made a Gryffindor, and then—

"Potter, Harry!"

Harry felt frozen to his place. Ron gave him an encouraging little nudge, and Harry shuffled up to the stool. The whispers bothered him.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

"Can you see his scar?"

"I dunno, he looks smaller than I imagined him..."

Harry sat down on the stool, and felt the Hat drop over his head. It didn't quite cover his eyes, so Harry closed them, not wishing to see the entire Hall staring at him.

Difficult, indeed, said the Hat into his mind. Harry half-jumped, half-jerked, not expecting it. He heard some muffled chuckling from the direction of the Slytherin table. No one can question your courage, said the Hat, again into his mind (Harry supposed that was how communication with the Hat worked), or your loyalty...your intelligence isn't bad, either, and you could grow up to possess great ambition, if you wanted to.

Not Slytherin, thought Harry. Not Slytherin, not Slytherin.

Not Slytherin, eh? Why not? You know, you could be great there. It's all here, in your head. If hats had arms, Harry was certain that the Sorting Hat would be pointing to Harry's head—

Please, not Slytherin.

—and if hats could smile, the Hat would be smiling apologetically. I'm sorry, Mr. Potter, but it's where you belong.

No, please—

"SLYTHERIN!"

The Hat's announcement was met by silence. And then Malfoy—of all people, Malfoy!—stood up and began to applaud loudly. A few older Slytherins joined in, giving scattered applause, but otherwise, Harry walked to the Slytherin table to be greeted by one person clapping.

"Do you think it's funny to embarrass me?" Harry hissed as he took the empty seat next to Malfoy.

"I wasn't aware that I was embarrassing you," Malfoy drawled, smirking. "I was simply welcoming the newest member of House Slytherin."

Harry glared at him, and turned back to the Sorting, hunched over. In the clump off remaining first years, Ron had turned his head, staring and gaping at Harry. He shook his head back and forth. Harry winced. He and Ron had finally found some sort of friendship with each other, and now Harry could bear to meet the betrayed look in Ron's eyes.

But the Sorting continued, even after the pure shock that everyone had felt after Harry—the Boy-Who-Lived!—was Sorted into Slytherin. Harry didn't pay as much attention this time, but enough to know that "Rivers, Oliver!" quickly became a Ravenclaw, and "Roper, Sophie!" a Hufflepuff. "Runcorn, Alyza!" and "Smith, Sally!" followed, both taking seats at the Ravenclaw table.

"Thomas, Dean!" then went to Gryffindor, andHarry couldn't help the feeling akin to jealously slice through him. "Turpin, Lisa!" became a Ravenclaw, and then in was Ron's turn.

"Weasley, Ronald!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry winced. He knew he shouldn't have done so, but he had dared to hope that maybe Ron would ask the Sorting Hat to put him in the same House as Harry. Harry wasn't surprised that he evidently hadn't, or that it hadn't worked.

"Zabini, Blaise!" then sat next to Harry at the Slytherin table, and then the Sorting Ceremony was over.

Harry paid little attention to the few words that Headmaster Dumbledore spoke next, and then sat hunched over the table, eating nothing.

"People are going to think you're sulking if you don't eat, you know," said Malfoy from Harry's right. Harry turned his head to glare at the blonde. To his surprise, Malfoy wasn't smirking, or sneering, or visibly mocking him, as far as Harry could tell. But he didn't seem concerned, either, just...expressionless.

Harry looked away from Malfoy, not wishing to speak to him or deal with him any longer, and piled a few pieces of steak onto his plate.

Malfoy, however, did not take the hint. As he cut his own steak, he said almost conversationally, "You know, Potter, I think it's good that you're in Slytherin. The world can have its precious Boy-Who-Lived, and you save the world or whatever, and Slytherin gets its glory back."

"Malfoy, I don't really care about Slytherin glory," Harry said bitterly.

"Well, Potter, you're a Slytherin now. Deal with it. You'll care soon enough."

Harry rolled his eyes, sighed, and shoveled steak into his mouth to avoid responding.

A few minutes later, Malfoy seemed to, temporarily, at least, lose his mocking, tough demeanor when he asked, "Do you want some pumpkin juice, Harry?"

Malfoy had decided to call him by his first name? This was news to Harry. But he could at least humor Malfoy for now, and deal with him later, and get him to leave Harry alone. So he nodded, forced a rather grim-looking smile, and said, "Thank you, Draco."

Draco simply smirked.

Draco poured the pumpkin juice, so he had an excuse to keep watching Harry. The boy was...interesting, so far, Draco supposed. Draco hadn't missed the panicked expression Harry had worn when the Hat declared him a Slytherin, nor had he missed the betrayed look that the Weasley had given Harry. Draco smirked. It was like Harry hadn't expected to be a Slytherin. The so-called "Boy-Who-Lived" was expected to save the Wizarding world, and while Draco had never thought that very practical—who would trust a child to rid the world of the Dark Lord again, when doing it one time was shocking enough?—he decided that ambition and some cunning was necessary. Prime Slytherin traits.

He was slightly confusing, though, too. He had ignored Draco—which Draco couldn't believe; Harry was just a half-blood, and he had the nerve to ignore Draco! A Malfoy!—and then snapped at him, and now he was calling Draco by his first name. Lucius had told Draco that, if possible, to gain information on Harry. But Harry was interesting, and, until Draco had discovered all the ways in which he was interesting, he wasn't going to spy on Harry. Not yet.