No Country for Old Muggles: an excerpt.

I don’t know said Harry quietly as he struggled with the pain of knowing all his life was a lie though now faced with great things being expected of him that he couldn’t comprehend despite the evidence of even greater things happening all around and everything going his way while he staggered across the imagined border between muggle and wizard. Quiddich came as naturally to him as sitting a broom and if he’d been born into a world without it one imagined Nimbus Two Thousands might have willed themselves into being just to suit him. But the game was only that and had no bearing on his struggle to be the chosen one the wizarding world expected to rise above a challenge that never took form except as a suspicion in the back of his mind that there was someone who could not be named that left him with a scar and no direction other than the one that swept him away like an reluctant martyr carried along by a throng of ecstatics overwhelmed by the song of the sorting hat and its incontenstable revelations –HUFFLEPUFF –GRIFFINDOR. A prophecy of determinism that reduced each student to an idea before they ever realized who they were themselves and wouldn’t have the chance to free themselves from, not if the world had its way and the world always had its say louder than a simple boy who grew up living under a flight of rickety old stairs wanting a better life and having it thrust on him the same way deprivation had been. It was all meaningless and sorrowful and Harry wrapped himself in his invisibility cloak and thought this might be the truest way he’d ever appeared and was guaranteed to be the future of him throughout eternity once the sun set on Hogwarts like it set on the whole world.

–What are you looking for boy?

–Nothing said Harry.

Five minutes later Ron and Hermione joined him suddenly shaking their heads and they quickly went off to dinner where Harry had never in all his life had so much. The wizarding world in which you seek to undo the miscast spell you make is different from the world where the spell was made.

–You’re now at the crossing said Snape. And you want to sort yourself, but there is no sorting. There’s only accepting. The sorting was done a long time ago.