The Spiteful Sorting Hat

Diagon Alley

"We're already good friends," Harry asserted. "Millie is the coolest girl I know."

"Mum, can we go show Millie where she'll be sleeping?" Blaise asked suddenly. Harry got the impression that he wanted to distract everyone before things got serious.

Harry and Blaise jumped out of their seats before Mrs. Zabini could grant them permission. Millie was no less reluctant to rise and follow them. She gave her parents an awkward sort of curtsy that Harry found strangely formal, then she followed the boys out of the room without a backward glance.

Harry took a moment to compose himself. He was angry and embarrassed on Millie's behalf. His own treatment by the Dursleys had been dreadful, but at least he knew where he stood with them. Poor Millie had parents who at least seemed to mean well, but what good could they think to do by talking about her as if she wasn't there?

Harry didn't know what to say, and clearly Blaise was at a loss as well. They trekked up the staircase, saying not a word between them, and Harry knew there had to be some way to break the silence. He wanted to say something reassuring, but knowing Millie, she would resent any reference to the conversation they'd all just heard. It would be better to say nothing at all.

"Draco Malfoy sent his house elf to spy on me," Harry said abruptly as they reached the landing.

"He did what with who?" Millie asked, her downcast eyes immediately rising to meet Harry's green ones, searching for an explanation.

Pleased that his first attempt met with success, Harry proceeded to tell her about Dobby, and his plan to keep Harry away from Hogwarts.

"So that's why you didn't get any of my letters!" Millie exclaimed as they reached the guest bedroom that had been prepared for her. "But you could have written to me, you know. Then at least I would have known something was wrong."

"I wanted to write, but I couldn't. Hedwig was locked up."

"Locked up?"

"The Dursleys. My relatives," Harry said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "Another story."

"And you think Malfoy is trying to prevent you from joining the Quidditch team?" Millie asked.

Harry glanced at Blaise, the one who first suggested the idea. He shrugged his shoulders and said, "Well, that's the only thing I can think of. Why else would he be trying to keep me from school?"

"The elf said something about a plot right? A dangerous plot?"

"He was probably just trying to scare me," said Harry, "It didn't work. Nothing's scarier than the thought of living the rest of my days on Privet Drive."

Millie was soon called down to say a final farewell to her parents. Harry and Blaise watched from the top of the landing, gazing down into the foyer antisocially, despite Mrs. Zabini's efforts to coax them down to give a proper send-off. Millie's parents did not appear affronted. They merely gave their daughter a hug and waved at the two boys cheerfully, taking their leave without much ado. Harry thought they seemed rather glad to be rid of Millie. He wasn't sorry to see them go.

The day finally came when their Hogwarts letters arrived.

They were seated at the breakfast table, in the close, familiar nook that was often the place for meals when there was no company to be entertained in the large dining room. Mrs. Zabini was enjoying a cup of coffee while reading the Daily Prophet, and Harry and Blaise where having a game of kicking at each other under the table, before Harry accidentally kicked Millie, and she upset a tureen of orange juice. Mrs. Zabini was about to scold them all when three brown owls soared through the open window and deposited three identical envelopes in the laps of the children.