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(So? The way I've been planning things, the school was broken the moment Phobius punted Ron out the compartment and lectured Harry on expectations. Anyway, in the short run, at least, which of those two houses you choose for Kathy doesn't matter - what I have planned for Harry's sorting has only ever been done in one fanfic that I know of, and it was Ravenclaw there, not Gryffindor. twisted )

Phobius shrugged. "He's interesting, and while I am not a Boy-Who-Lived fanboy, I sense he has great potential," he said simply. "It would irritate me to have that potential snuffed out by expectations before it could even be realized." Which was apparently as close to an admission of having taken a liking to Harry as anyone was going to get.
Harry grinned slightly, getting the underlying meaning; however, he seemed rather nervous, glancing around, only getting more nervous when he heard Weasley mention something about wrestling a troll.
"You're worried about the Sorting? Relax," Phobius told the boy calmly, watching his... acquaintance, maybe? 'Associate, let's go with associate for now.' "It's really quite simple: you put on a magic hat, it reads your mind, takes your input, and shouts out the house it thinks you ought to be in."
Harry blinked, looking back at Phobius and relaxing slightly. "That's it?"
"That's it."

(Sounds good to me... and yeah, I've read a few of those, but I'm talking about a slightly more unorthodox sorting. twisted twisted twisted )
Phobius pursed his lips, tenting his fingers in front of his mouth. "Well, I'm not one of the traditionalist purebloods myself, though I do know some of the old pureblood traditions; my mother used to be a traditionalist, but certain circumstances allowed her to see what arseholes the rest of the family are, and she formed her own views." Phobius explained. "At any rate, the traditionalists' complaint against Muggleborns is simple, albeit idiotic. You see, the average traditionalist is basically a Wizarding World social darwinist, and feels thusly: that their bloodline must be kept 'pure', meaning that all members of the family must have magic. If your bloodline is 'pure', then you are better than anyone else bare another pureblood If you are not 'pure' - in other words, Muggle, Muggleborn, or Squib, which is a Muggle born to Wizarding parents - then you are considered scum or worse than scum, and should be purged in order to keep wizarding blood 'pure' - on that note, girls, if someone should ever call you a Mudblood, I believe the appropriate social response is to aim for the groin. Back on topic, those pureblood wizards who associate with muggles and muggleborns are called 'blood traitors'. As such, the average pureblood traditionalist generally has a tendency to arrange marriages for their children with other purebloods, and any Squibs who pop up are immediately disowned and taken off of the family tree. They have a tendency to conveniently forget about any 'blood traitors' in the family tree, as well as the fact that at the top of said tree is always a Muggleborn. This, naturally, results in a large number of the pureblood traditionalist population being inbred."
"Er, what about Half-bloods? Where do they fit in the traditionalists' view of the world?" Harry asked, curious.
"Well, I'm not entirely clear on that part of the subject myself, but from my observations and notes, they consider half-bloods to be a bit of a grey area. Since most half-bloods are usually the offspring of Purebloods and Muggles or Muggleborns, they are tolerated. Those who ignore their muggle heritage to completely embrace their Wizarding blood are treated like another pureblood, and if any evidence of said muggle heritage comes up, well, suddenly all those in earshot conveniently become blind and deaf until the evidence is dropped. Half-breeds, on the other hand, are another matter entirely, and treated as even worse than muggleborns by the traditionalists. Any questions?" Phobius then finally noticed that he had gathered quite the audience among his fellow first-years, mostly consisting of Muggleborns and Muggle-raised halfbloods. He blinked uncertainly, the near-emotionless boy obviously not quite sure how to take all the attention; normally people only paid attention to him to tell others to "stay away from the emotionless freak".

"Black, Phobius!"
Phobius calmly went and sat on the stool, ignoring the surprised whispers from around him; however, that was when things got... interesting.
"Oh, no, you are not putting me on that boy's head! I like having my sanity intact, thank you very much!" The Sorting Hat declared, somehow managing to veer itself so that all attempts to put it on Phobius's head fail. "I am NOT going in that dark, twisted hole he calls a mind, and that is final!"
Phobius actually found himself feeling amusement at the whole situation. 'Well, what do you know? The sorting hat really can see the inside of your head,' he noted humorously to himself. Outwardly, however, he calmly grabbed the hat and firmly shoved it onto his head, causing the unhappy Hat to quiet down. After a moment, the Hat shouted out, "SLYTHERIN! Now get me off of this head!" Phobius wordlessly handed the hat back to a bewildered McGonagall, still amused as he sat down with the rest of the snakes.
"Potter, Harry!"
Now there were even more whispers as Harry sat down, the Sorting Hat going over his head. "My my, Mister Potter, quite the interesting mind you have here. You're quite the Survivor, aren't you?" the Hat noted, obviously amused at some sort of inside joke. "And so much determination... you will be great, no matter where you go, no doubt about that. So where to put you...?"
"Put me where I can reach my full potential - the potential Phobius mentioned," Harry answered mentally.
"Ah yes, Phobius Black, a more interesting and disturbing mind I have never seen. Aren't people going to expect the Boy-Who-Lived to have "lighter" friends?"
"Screw their bloody expectations," Harry shot back fiercely and passionately in the depths of his mind. "If they want some grand savior, they're going to be disappointed - I'm just going to be me, and if they don't like it, they can shove their expectations up their arses!"
There was a brief pause after that, during which the students were starting to murmur and the professors were starting to look puzzled. Then, "Well, with a sentiment like that, you will certainly reach new heights in GRYFFINDOR AND SLYTHERIN!"
Cue total silence as all of them, students and Professors alike, froze in shock and stared at the Sorting Hat like it had lost its mind. After a moment, Professor McGonagall spoke. "I beg your pardon... but did you just say...?"
"Mister Potter belongs to two houses - Gryffindor and Slytherin," the Hat repeated confidently.
More silence... and then all hell broke loose in the form of shouts, spit-takes, near heart attacks, and all sorts of other shenanigans. The only unsurprised reaction in the entire Great Hall was Phobius, who was currently only thinking one thing:
'Is this what glee feels like? It's rather bubbly, sort of like an urge to burst into maniacal laughter.' And so he did, laughing his a** off to the point where he fell out of his seat.

(Yes... I just did that. twisted rofl twisted rofl twisted )

(A Second Chance - in Chapter 5, Harry gets a dual sorting into Slytherin and Ravenclaw. I just adjusted the idea to fit the circumstances... and now, instead of a hatstall, we have a hatsplit! 3nodding Also, will solve the problem of Hermione being alone in Ravenclaw soon.
Also, his name is PHOBIUS - QUIT BUTCHERING THE SPELLING! crying )

Phobius calmed down and immediately glanced over at the Headmaster, expression cold and calculating. "I see... it appears we have ourselves a snake in lion's clothing... and a puppetmaster hiding in an old man's skin," he murmured softly.
Harry, meanwhile, patiently waited for McGonagall to get over her miniature heart attack before asking her where he should sit; after being told to just pick a table, he went over and sat between Phobius and Katherine.
"I thought you said back on the train that you wanted to be normal?" Phobius quipped dryly.
Harry just shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

(Well, I didn't know it, since you spelled it wrong both times you typed it. xp All right, that works too.)

Harry just groaned and faceplanted against the table with a thud.
Soon the sorting finished up, and Dumbledore got up to say a few things; when he got to the bit where "the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death", his eyes discreetly sought Harry's, only to be met by Phobius's cold, blood-red stare. The Headmaster paused briefly enough that you would only notice it if you were looking for it, then resumed his announcements.
Phobius refocused his attention on Harry and shrugged. "Could be worse; you could be me," he offered dryly... which, disturbingly enough, actually did make Harry feel a little better.

"Isn't it obvious? He wants Harry to try and sneak a peek," Phobius answered bluntly, calmly yanking Harry back into an upright sitting position before his face could be filled with mashed potatoes.
Harry winced slightly at the tugging of his hair, then turned and stared in astonishment as Phobius's statement registered. "Me? Why me?"
Phobius's answer was to calmly point at Harry's forehead even as he absentmindedly got himself some mashed potatoes.
Harry blushed sheepishly. "Oh... right." Nevertheless, he was curious about the staff, and so he looked over the staff table, wondering what sort of professors Hogwarts had.

Harry shrugged, looking rather sheepish. "I, er, didn't really get a chance to read ahead, so I don't know the classes - I'm just glad to be learning magic," he admitted.
"You'd probably be interested in Care of Magical Creatures and DADA, perhaps Herbology on a hobby basis," Phobius offered.
"I myself am interested in Potions, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Transfiguration; I'd say Ancient Runes as well, but I believe those aren't offered until third year."
It was at that point that Draco came over, glaring at the girls. "Granger, was it? You aren't a Slytherin, so why are you at our table?" he snapped, though he seemed a bit wary of Phobius. "And as for you, Potter - I thought you'd want to go sit with the Gryffindors? They're your fan club, after all!"
Phobius frowned slightly, the only visible sign of his rising irritation.

"Malfoy, was it?" Katherine asking as she moved herself in between the blond and the scarred boy. "If you have any onuce of the self-preservation that this house is known for you will strut back to your seat, right now. If not, I'll just test my new DADA spells." She said coldly. She wouldn't let him get to her friends.