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“RAVENCLAW!” screamed the sorting hat.
A hush descended over the Great Hall; all eyes were fixed on the newest Ravenclaw. Malfoy's blonde hair hung over his eyes and his shoulders slumped as he dragged his feet across the ancient floorboards. Eyes fixed on the table, he barely acknowledged his new housemates as he sat down.
“Why's everyone staring?” Harry whispered into Ron's ear.
Ron stared back at the friend he'd made on the train. “He's a Malfoy.”
“So?”
“Malfoys have been in Slytherin for hundreds of years. It'd be…" Ron tried to come up with an appropriate analogy for someone with no references in the wizarding world. "It'd be like if I was sorted into anything but Gryffindor. Weasleys belong in Gryffindor, Malfoys in Slytherin. That's just how it is.”
Harry’s brow scrunched, his freshly repaired glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “But then why bother with that at all?” He gestured at the sorting hat.
“Tradition,” Ron replied. A niffler somersaulted in his stomach. Tradition dictated that he be in Gryffindor, but what if Malfoy was not the only surprise today? Ron had always wished that he'd stand out from his brothers. Ending up in a different house would be a drastic way to differentiate him from them.
“Potter, Harry,” McGonagall called. Ron gave Harry a reassuring push towards the rickety stool in the centre of the hall.
As Harry walked towards his fate, excited whispering sprouted up around him; students jostled each other to get a better view of the unwilling celebrity in their midst. Harry's pulled the tatty hat on and it dropped over his glasses.
Time stretched out as Ron willed the hat to shout Gryffindor. Sharing a dormitory with Harry would be brilliant. The murmuring intensified as they all waited.
“GRYFFINDOR,” the hat eventually shouted. The final syllable lost in a cacophony of cheers as the Gryffindor table erupted from their seats.
Ron's brothers were beaming as Harry approached the Gryffindor table. Percy held out a hand, a pompous grin plastered across his face. The twins were dancing an impromptu jig and chanting.
Ron thought he might be sick. What if he didn't belong there? Was he even brave enough for Gryffindor? The taunts of Fred and George from last night flitted through his mind, swirling together and blotting out all that surrounded him.
“Perhaps little Ronnikins will be a Hufflepuff,” George teased. He prodded Ron in the stomach. “With the kitchens just a quaffle throw away, it'd be ideal. Pity it's just for rejects.”
“Or Slytherin,” Fred suggested. “That temper must belong somewhere. Going crying to Mummy after every little tumble, like a wannabe snake.”
“I'm not a snake,” Ron huffed, tears welling up unbidden.
“Aww, don't cry,” George mocked. “I thought you wanted to be a big, brave Gryffindor. Little lions don't cry.”
“At least we know he won't be in Ravenclaw,” Fred said, chuckling. “Barely two brain cells to knock together.” He tapped on Ron's head. “See, it's hollow, almost completely empty.”
Ron rubbed the sore spot, ruffling up his hair. “Is not! I'm plenty intelligent,” he protested. “Just you wait.”
The only other remaining first year to be sorted, a tall boy nudged Ron hard in the ribs. “You're Weasley, right?” he muttered, nodding towards the hat.
“Weasley, Ron,” McGonagall announced; a hint of exasperation laced her voice. “When you are ready.”
“Sorry, Professor,” Ron replied sheepishly, realising he must have missed his name being called the first time.
He trudged towards the four legged stool. The hat shook as he held it up in his trembling fingers. His heart had leapt into his throat. Taking a seat, he dropped the hat onto his head. It blocking out all sound from the hall.
“Hmmm,” a small voice said. “Another Weasley, usually such an easy decision, but you're a bit different aren't you.”
Ron clenched his eyes tight shut and thought, “I'm not that different.” Whatever his brothers said, he was as brave as any of them.
“Are you sure? Oh, you are brave certainly, but you'll have to be brave wherever I put you. You wouldn't be the first I've placed in an unlikely house today for the greater good.”
The greater good? What was the hat on about? Was Malfoy's unexpected sorting due to some weird scheme this crazy hat had concocted?
“Don’t you worry about him,” the hat instructed. “It's you I need to place. You've got an excellent mind. One of the best strategists I've met. And with what's coming, perhaps that's the solution.”
An excellent mind: Ron preened under the praise. No one had ever complimented his intelligence before; he was always overshadowed by his older brothers. Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad; at least it'd mark him out as different. It wasn't as if the hat was suggesting Slytherin. His parents might disown him if he ended up there. Though his Dad had reassured him on the platform that they'd love him no matter which house he was placed in.
“Yes," the hat drawled. "I think that would be best for you. It's a gambit. But, it better be RAVENCLAW!”
Ron heard the hat shout the last word to the hall as he ripped it from his head. His brothers’ mouths hung open in unison at the Gryffindor table.
Professor Flitwick started applauding and soon this spread along the professors’ table on the dais and then throughout his new house. A prefect stood up to greet Ron as he hurried to the Ravenclaw table.
“Welcome, I'm Sophie,” the smiling girl told him. “I wasn't expecting a Weasley, but I'm pleased to welcome you to our house.”
Ron faked a return smile and took a seat next to Terry. He shuffled up the bench to make room. Anthony and Michael were sat on Terry's other side.
Loud shouts and cheers echoed around the room as dishes laden with food appeared in front of them.
Ron quickly loaded up his plate. His Mum was an excellent cook, but this was something else. Roast potatoes, sausages, pork, lamb, chicken, tureens of steamed green vegetables, honey roast parsnips and carrots, gravy by the boatload. It was a wonderful feast that went some way to assuage the unsettled rumbling of his stomach.
In between mouthfuls, he looked around at his new housemates. The first year girls were sat opposite him: Mandy, Padma and Lisa. He'd met both Mandy and Padma before at some ministry picnics, they were chatting happily about the year ahead as they enjoyed their food. Anthony, Michael and Terry had started up a spirited conversation about how their Quidditch teams had fared over the summer season. Lisa’s eyes widened as she asked them about the sport. Ron had never met her before: clearly she was muggleborn.
Ron's gaze drifted to the solitary figure at the end of the table; Malfoy picked at his food, moving a potato around with his fork. He'd positioned himself so his back was to the Slytherin table. His two lackeys from the train had their eyes fixed on him as they shoveled food into their mouths; puzzled frowns painted their faces.
After Ron didn't think he could eat anymore, puddings materialised on the table. He found he had a bit more space as he helped himself to apple crumble and custard.
As the puddings disappeared, Professor Dumbledore rose to his feet. The chattering died away as all eyes turned to him.
“And now, a few short announcements,” Dumbledore started. “First years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all students. A few older students would also do well to remember this.” Ron followed the path of Dumbledore's gaze to where his twin brothers were clinking glasses.
Fred caught him looking and mouthed, “You, a Ravenclaw, really?” But then he gave Ron a thumbs up and Ron felt a little better.
Percy bustled across after Dumbledore finished speaking, he held out his hand and Ron shook it. “I'm very proud,” he said, rather pompously. “I think Mum and Dad will be too. It's a fine house with an excellent reputation. Not Gryffindor of course. But a close second.” He strode back to the Gryffindor table, ushering their first years towards the door. Ron hoped Percy was right about their parents’ reaction.
“Okay, first years with me,” Sophie announced. The eight of them hurried to stand and gathered around her. Malfoy stood a little apart; he tugged on the hem of his cloak. “This way.”
As they left the hall, they fell into pairs, Terry still animatedly attempting to explain quidditch to Lisa. Ron and Malfoy brought up the rear of the group.
“Bet you didn't think you'd find yourself here?” Ron said, filling the uncomfortable silence between them.
“It's not completely unexpected,” Malfoy drawled. But the way his eyes were darting around the corridor suggested he was less than comfortable with his new house.
“Come off it,” Ron replied. “We both know that this is unexpected. For both of us.”
“I suppose.”
“And…” Ron continued, ploughing bravely on. The sorting hat may have placed him in Ravenclaw for some, as yet, unknown purpose, but he still held that Weasley courage that usually resulted in the red and gold. “Seeing as we will be sharing a dormitory, maybe it's time we called a truce.”
They'd halted their trek up the castle towards Ravenclaw Tower. A loud grinding declared that the staircases were in the process of relocating.
Malfoy's eyes flicked to Ron's; his pale grey irises almost ghostly as they reflected the light from the floating candles above. “A truce…” he murmured, more to himself than to Ron. “In for a knut, in for a galleon, I guess.” He held out his hand. “I'm Draco, Draco Malfoy,” he said.
Ron took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Ron, Ron Weasley.”
They stood facing each other. Draco shifted on the spot kicking up dust from the burgundy carpet.
Ron let out a forced chuckle. “I'm not sure what my parents will find more surprising, that I'm in Ravenclaw or I've managed to have a civil, albeit short, conversation with a Malfoy.”
Draco's lip quirked up at one side, his fixed sneer softening. “Likewise,” he agreed. “No doubt I'll discover their greatest displeasure in the morning.”