CHAPTER ONE
When everyone else with Potter blood in them had been a Gryffindor, that fact that the Sorting Hat had placed me in Slytherin made me feel like the Ugly Duckling; the misplaced child. I know that my father had comforted me about the possibility of me being placed in Voldemort's house, but the odd truth about my Slytherin existence terrified me still. As I shuffled down the aisle towards the Slytherin table, I could nearly feel the eyes of my older brother boring his eyes into the back of my skull, wishing to take the teasing he pestered me with back. He had honestly thought his little brother would be a Gryffindor; the truth shocked him.
I felt dirty, unclean. Everyone knew that Slytherins were all pure-blooded, pompous, evil brats. I had always struggled between good and evil, but I suppose the Sorting Hat had chosen a side for me: I was to be evil, a servant of darkness, possibly even a Death Eater. With the long walk towards the Slytherin table taking more than an eternity, my mind started to spin. I don't belong here, my thoughts screamed at me, there's been a terrible mistake! Yet here I was, the nasty, cold hearted Slytherin serpents smiling though their teeth at me, clapping and celebrating my joining of their house; my path towards the Dark Side. I was going to be sick. I chose a seat away from the other Slytherins, so I could get as far away from evil as I could. I did not want them corrupting me.
It took a while for me to realize I was not alone; there was another soul wishing to escape the poisonous Slytherin fangs: a first year girl. She sat even farther away from the rest than I did, though the look of her face showed not disgust, but rejection. Her dark eyes, staring solemnly at the spoon in front of her, swam with tears, as though she longed to join the other clapping serpents but felt obligated not to. Despite her obvious misery, I couldn't help notice how abstrusely beautiful she was. Her skin was the palest I ever saw a human's; almost no pigment or sign that the sun had even once touched her body (excluding her cheeks, which were flushed a soft pink from her crying). Her lips were full and thrust into an expected pouting position, a brilliant red coloring them. Her eyes were dark and brooding, wide-set and handsome. Her hair tumbled down her back in a waterfall of ebony tresses, pitch black, while curls framed her almond face. She was too gorgeous not to stare, even when she became aware of her onlooker and met my gaze with an eyebrow raised, I could not look away.
"Can I help you?" she barked hotly, all evidence of her previous gloom evaporated with the heat of her anger. I blinked, collecting myself, and refocused my gaze into a challenge, my mind whirring for a plausible excuse that explained my situation. I could not let her know the real reason I sat here.
"Yes, actually," I said, having no idea where I was going with this, "I was wondering why you were sitting over here all by yourself, when you could be sitting with me by the rest of the Slytherins." Not a full lie, considering that I did wonder why the heck a pretty girl like her was sitting all by herself, and having her sit next to me would make my day, but sitting next to the rest of the Slytherins would make me sick. Oh well, I could compromise.
Her irate expression fell into a curious distrust.
"You mean," she began, her eyes becoming more and more disbelieving, "you actually want me to sit with you?"
"Well yes," her question confusing me slightly, "that's what I asked, isn't it?"
The girl simply looked at me, as if she were taking in my messy black hair and green eyes, analyzing it as if my very appearance gave her reason to mistrust me. I didn't blame her, I probably looked eerily similar to a guy that was on the front cover of The Daily Prophet every day, and had recently become a prime character in children's bedtime stories. I was used to this reaction by now.
"You aren't… afraid of me?" This question shocked my thoughts into silence. For a minute I looked at her, wondering why in the name of Merlin's pants I would be afraid of a dainty little girl with teary eyes. Then I remembered her fiery greeting towards me, and the little jolt of fear that she had sent down my spine. Surely, this girl wasn't someone you wanted to mess with, but I could think of no other reason why I should avoid her.
I flashed her the happiest smile I could conjure, though close to no happiness hovered over me at this point. Apparently the forced smile looked more like a smirk, because the girl flinched. I shoved it back into my default expression, where it belonged.
"Of course not, why would I be afraid of you?"
Her wary expression slowly melted into a timid smile.
"Oh… No reason," she said, tears all seem to have dried. Her smile was full blown now, so bright and happy I felt as if I would be blinded if I looked directly at it.
"You wanna come sit with me?" I asked, offering her my arm as a gentlemanly gesture. She raised her eyebrow at my deed but accepted it, her smile remaining.
"Oh course."
We walked arm in arm over to the nest of serpents I had been too afraid to face alone. She leaned over and whispered in my ear: "By the way, I'm Victoria Sanguini. You can call me Vicky." I grinned, replying: "By the way, I'm Albus Severus Potter. You can call me Al."