**Chapter 1: An Unexpected Classification**

Harry Potter stepped nervously into the sorting room, his eyes scanning the familiar faces of professors McGonagall and Snape. It had been a long time since he'd set foot in Hogwarts, and the stress of being back was already getting to him. At eighteen years old, he was a bit of an oddity among his peers, repeating his seventh year due to...unforeseen circumstances. The Sorting Hat, an old and wise magical artifact, was usually used to sort first-year students into their respective houses. However, in Harry's case, it was being used for a different purpose. His...delayed classification, as Professor McGonagall put it. "You see, Harry," she explained, "most students are sorted into their...pack type, as it were, by their fifth year. However, due to the...extreme stress you were under, your presentation was delayed. We're hoping that today, we can finally determine your place in the world." Harry nodded, feeling a mix of anxiety and curiosity. He'd heard rumors, of course, about the different pack types that existed in the wizarding world. Alphas, Betas, Omegas, Caregivers, and...Littles. The latter was a mystery to him, a rare and enigmatic category that he didn't fully understand. The Sorting Hat was placed on his head, and Harry felt a sudden surge of energy. The hat seemed to be probing his mind, searching for...something. And then, in a flash of insight, Harry knew. The hat's voice whispered in his ear, "Little...you are a Little, Harry Potter." The room fell silent. Harry's eyes widened in shock as he stared at the professors. "What...what does it mean?" he stuttered. Professor McGonagall's expression was sympathetic. "It means, Harry, that you are a rare and special individual. Littles are a small percentage of the population, representing pure and young souls. They are...protected, for lack of a better term, and often require special care and attention." Harry's mind reeled as he processed this information. He was a Little? It didn't make sense. He was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. He'd faced down Voldemort, saved the wizarding world...how could he be a Little? As the professors began to murmur among themselves, Harry felt a growing sense of unease. What did this mean for his future? And why did he get the feeling that his life was about to change in ways he couldn't even imagine? Just then, a group of students approached him, their faces filled with concern. "Harry, we're so glad you're okay," one of them said, a tall, dark-haired girl with a warm smile. "We've heard so much about you. I'm Luna, and this is Neville and Ginny." Harry shook hands with the group, feeling a bit overwhelmed. "Thanks," he said, trying to play it cool. "I'm just trying to wrap my head around this whole Little thing." Luna nodded sympathetically. "We understand. It's a lot to take in. But don't worry, we're here for you. We'll help you through this." As the group began to chat with him, Harry couldn't shake off the feeling that he was in for a wild ride. And then, he heard a voice behind him. "Harry, I think we should get you to the infirmary. You must be feeling a bit...overwhelmed." He turned to see Professor Sprout, a kind-eyed Caregiver, smiling at him. "I think you might need some...special care, Harry. You are a Little, after all." Harry's eyes narrowed. Special care? What did that even mean? He felt a surge of frustration and anxiety. He was not a baby, after all. He was Harry Potter, and he could take care of himself. But as he looked at the concerned faces around him, he wondered if he was in for a fight.