A/N: Hello and welcome to Unknown Variable! I am the author of this particular piece of work, and while I am borrowing characters and settings from J.K. Rowling, I own nothing. However I am in possession of this particular story, though I sincerely doubt the concept is mine. Nevertheless, please do not plagarize, it's a felony, even if this is only fanfiction. I appreciate feedback, but will never demand reviews, so do so at your own leisure. This was simply my chance to explore one of the many 'what-if's' of the Harry Potter universe, and I sincerely hope you enjoy this tale.
"Not Slytherin, anything but Slytherin."
Harry Potter, and extremely ordinary boy-at least in his own mind-found himself in the odd predicament of begging and pleading with a hat. A ratty old thing that now sat atop of his head. However all things considered, this was really one of the milder cultural shocks he had experienced in the past few months. At least in the Muggle world there was some notion of magic and hats being interrelated, though magic was more often associated with the stereotypical black top hat, and rabbits were usually involved.
Harry was pretty sure he would rather have pulled a rabbit out of the hat.
You see the thing is, while Harry saw himself as plain and unassuming, to the rest of the world he was nothing short of extraordinary. For one thing, he was a wizard, of the most unique stock. His parents had both been very powerful, and his father had descended from a long line of well known, talented wizards. His mother, while born into the Muggle world, was not to be underestimated herself, and her kindness was practically legendary. Even among wizards, Harry Potter was exceptional, yet he had not quite come to realize this particular fact just yet.
However he found nothing wrong with arguing with a hat. Even he knew that this wasn't just any old hat. It was a Hat, and there was absolutely a difference. This Hat was important, and it could very well decide Harry's future. There were four words the Hat could shout out-well five, if Harry's pessimistic worryings about not even meriting a House came to fruition-but if it shouted the wrong one, well Harry was doomed.
And he was positively certain that Slytherin was the wrong House for him. After all, he had heard nothing but nasty things about that particular House. Mostly from Ron Weasley, but seeing the pale, blonde haired Draco Malfoy Sorted there with no hesitation, well it only cemented Harry's views that it was not the place for him.
The Sorting Hat, however, was proving to be hard to convince of that.
"But Slytherin could help you on the way to greatness."
"I don't want to be great!" Harry cried desperately in his head. It might have simply been his own overactive imagination-the by-product of a seriously stifled childhood to say the least-but it seemed that the Hat was firming its resolve. If Hats even had a resolve at any rate.
"My dear boy, some are born great, while others have greatness thrust upon them. You, while certainly born a Wizard of the Light, and to great parents, had greatness thrust upon you. I fear that it will only continue in days to come."
"But if I'm Light, then why put me in Slytherin? It's full of Dark Wizards!"
"Then maybe what it needs is a Light one. Do not fret young Potter, but Dark Wizards come from all around, even your father's own House. It is not the House that is Dark, but rather the seeds inside the wizard. And this gives me no doubt what is the right choice for you."
"SLYTHERIN!"
Harry was finally very glad that the Sorting Hat was so big that it covered his eyes and mouth, because he really did not want his expression to be on view for the entire Great Hall to see. His green eyes were filling up with angry, bitter tears, and he thought his jaw might have slackened somewhat. However he managed to compose himself quickly as the stern lady-Professor McGonagall-removed the Hat from his head with trembling hands.
The entire Hall was silent. No one could believe it. Harry Potter, son of James and Lily Potter, the Savior of the Wizarding World, had been placed in Slytherin House, the House of the very man-if he could even be called that-who had destroyed his family.
Harry was practically squirming, as it seemed that every eye was on him, scrutinizing him, staring at his scar, with mouths hanging open unabashedly. He even swore he saw Professor McGonagall give him a look akin to disbelief and disappointment.
It was truly horrible, Harry realized, to be held to such expectations in an unfamiliar world. He had thought this could be his safe haven, his escape from the Dursleys, however he had never felt like this with them. He had never felt such shame for something he couldn't control.
Eventually a small smattering of applause took place, more out of politeness than anything, however Harry did see Hagrid clapping his huge hands together ferociously. The sight sent a surge of warmth and happiness through Harry's blood. The giant man was clearly bewildered, yet he was still proud of Harry, and that was all that mattered. Hagrid had introduced him to the magical world, so as long as Hagrid still accepted Harry, things couldn't turn out to be too awful, could they?
With weak legs, he finally managed to reach the Slytherin table, and while the trek had been less than thirty seconds, it felt like it had taken a year at the least. But already, 'Pritner, David' was taking his seat at the stool. Thankfully some of the attention was diverted from Harry, however most of the Slytherins were now eyeing him.
No, they were glaring at him. Harry swallowed slightly, realizing that he had been correct in assuming that the Slytherins looked like an unpleasant lot. They did not seem pleased to have the defeater of the Dark Lord a member of their House. Well the feeling was completely mutual, and Harry would happily go demand the Sorting Hat place him in Gryffindor if he could.
And yet that would be petulant of him to do so. He had been in worse situations, hell, he had lived under the torment and torture of Dudley for ten years. He could handle unfriendly, hostile living environments. And it didn't have to be all bad, because there was someone waving at him now.
Eyes widening, Harry realized he was being beckoned, and hastily made his way towards the end of the table. Across from his side an older, friendly looking girl was smiling at him, and Harry found himself giving her a relieved looking smile back. Maybe he could have some allies in Slytherin after all.
The blonde haired girl on his side scooted over slightly, making room for Harry to sit down, to which he gave a grateful smile. The boy on his left quickly moved away, as if Harry could infect him or something simply by touching him, but Harry paid him no mind, which was only reinforced by the older girl's words.
"Ignore them Harry, they'll get used to you eventually. None of them have said it, so I'll be the first; welcome to Slytherin!"
Harry stared at her slightly nonplussed; she made it seem like it was such an excellent thing, when really it was his very own death sentence.
Her smile dimming somewhat, the girl shook her strawberry blonde curls. "Oh no, don't go thinking like that. I'm sure someone has told you by now that Slytherin is full of Dark Wizards, huh?"
Harry finally found his voice, and managed to croak out, "Well it's true, isn't it?"
The boy beside her-Harry was assuming it was her brother, as he had the same reddish tint to his hair as the girl-rolled his eyes.
"Well...yes, but not all of us are Dark, you see. I'm Calliope Selwyn by the way. And this is my older brother Castor."
Castor glared at his sister. "I am more than capable of introducing myself thanks." He told her stiffly. However his stern gaze softened slightly when he returned his eyes to Harry. He sighed slightly and shook his head.
"Callie was going about it all the wrong way, but she's right. Most of us Slytherins are not evil. Sure, a lot of us have Dark Wizards in our families, but even then, some of us don't. We just have an unusual amount compared to the other Houses."
Harry frowned at that statement. "Wait, I thought all Dark Wizards came from Slytherin?"
The girl next to him snorted, and Harry finally looked at her. He was startled to realize that she must be his age, because the air she had projected was one of maturity and control unheard of for an eleven year old. Then again, she was a girl, and the female species was unknown to him.
She had fine blonde hair, not unlike Malfoy's, though much longer, and her skin wasn't nearly as pale. Her eyes were a deep brown, and they seemed to almost sparkle with spirit. Harry wasn't usually one to judge based off of appearances, but he instantly decided he liked her.
"And what idiot told you that bit of nonsense?"
"Um, Ron Weasley?" Harry's statement ended up sounding like a question, but really, who could blame him? He hardly wanted to incriminate one of his newly minted friends, however he was horrid at lying, and saw no reason to do so.
Once again, the girl beside him snorted, and Harry couldn't help but think that his Aunt Petunia would mention that snorting was unbecoming for a young lady, and then sniff haughtily herself.
"Figures. Well he's completely wrong. There have been plenty of Dark Wizards in other Houses, Gryffindor in particular. Slytherin and Gryffindor are really just two sides of a coin you know. The same could be said for the division in this House."
Calliope nodded in agreement with the younger girl's words, and Harry turned back to her. "She's right you know Harry. There is nothing to be ashamed about by being Sorted into Slytherin. Yes, we have a lot of bad blood, but a lot of people in Slytherin succeed. The founder you heard about, Salazar Slytherin, he was extremely picky. Some of his views were...shall we say, prejudiced, however a lot of Slytherins go on to become very successful and happy through honest means."
Harry nodded at her, feeling slightly better about his own placement. Turning back to the girl on his left, he spoke politely. "I'm sorry, but I don't think I caught your name. I'm Harry Potter by the way."
As the girl snorted for a third time, Harry's lips turned upwards slightly, and he couldn't help but notice this must be a frequent habit for her, and one most likely bred out of rebellion.
"I am not a complete moron, I know exactly who you are. Everyone does. However I am Daphne Greengrass. And just for the record, my family is Grey."
Harry wasn't one hundred percent sure what that meant, but with all that talk about Dark and Light Wizards, he assumed that Grey Wizards were somewhere in the middle. "That seems like a smart place to be." He said with a grin. "Especially considering I really don't know anything about the Wizarding World."
This statement caused both Daphne and the Selwyn siblings to frown in confusion.
"I knew you lived with Muggles," Castor began (and Harry chose not to comment on how creepy it was that everyone seemed to know intimate details about his life), "but didn't they tell you anything? Surely they wouldn't have wanted you to be sent into the Wizarding World without the proper defense?"
Harry shook his head wearily. This was going to be hard to explain, and he never liked doing it for some reason. It always felt too much like complaining, and Harry had never been the whiny type, something that had probably gotten him through the early years at the Dursleys with as little incident as possible.
"My aunt and uncle aren't anything like us. They hate anything abnormal, and would punish me whenever anything strange happened. I didn't even know I was a wizard until Hagrid came to tell me."
Castor looked upset, but not too terribly surprised, while Calliope and Daphne both looked outraged. Harry found it strange, having only known them for a few minutes, for them to be angry on his behalf. Then again, women were emotional creatures.
"You mean they disciplined you for accidental magic?" Daphne demanded to know. The Selwyns also seemed very interested in Harry's response.
The dark haired boy shrugged, rather uncomfortable with the direction the conversation had taken. However he had to admit that at least he felt slightly better about being in the green and silver House. "Well yes, but it wasn't anything awful. I mean, they liked to send me to my cupboard without supper."
As if Harry's words had been a cue, the reflective, glittering gold plates in front of them were suddenly filled with food of all varieties. Harry saw several of his favorite dishes all around, and his eyes widened in shock and delight. He turned his figure slightly, and saw that the Sorting was over, which he hadn't noticed in the duration of his conversation with Daphne, Calliope, and Castor. As he looked up and down the Slytherin table, he noted with disappointment that there were no gingers among them. Ron must have been Sorted into Gryffindor with all his various siblings that Harry had been so looking forward to meeting.
Calliope pulled his attention back to the present, by dropping a large piece of chicken onto Harry's plate.
"Eat!" She demanded fiercely, pointing her fork at Harry, and glaring at his skinny frame as if it were his fault. Really, how could he be held accountable for poor genes and years of malnourishment. Yet it sent a warm fuzzy feeling throughout Harry that the girl already cared enough about him to force him to eat something, and so he took a bite with relish, ladling himself a bowl of soup, and helping himself to some more food that looked simply scrumptious. His actions were met with grins from his three new friends, grins which he returned happily.
"So what are the classes like here at Hogwarts?"
Harry was slightly surprised by the question coming from Daphne. Even though his conversation with Ron on the Hogwarts Express had helped assuage his fears of being dreadfully behind, he had assumed that people like Daphne, who came from an upper class family full of wizards must have known all about Hogwarts and the courses offered.
As if reading Harry's mind, Daphne winked at him. "Mother tried to 'educate' me, and put me into decorum lessons, but I always refused. I usually climbed a tree to get away from her, and as our House-Elf is afraid of heights, and it would be undignified for her to climb the tree up to me, I didn't have to take them."
Most of what she had said didn't really register with Harry, however he assumed that it was an explanation. Calliope was nodding at Daphne's words, and she elaborated on them for Harry's sake. "I hated my own decorum lessons, but my mother always sent Castor after me, so there was no escape. You see Harry, in a lot of the wealthier families parents insist that their children take lessons before Hogwarts. It really has nothing to do with magic, it's usually things like history, family history, and for us ladies, decorum. We have to be prepared to be wed off, after all."
Harry frowned slightly, and looked at both Calliope and Daphne in confusion. "It sounds a lot to me like Victorian era Britain."
Daphne was confused by this statement, however the Selwyns grinned wider. "Exactly! We don't quite have a London season-" "-thank Merlin for that-" Castor muttered, "-but there are a lot of 'Pureblood Balls', in which pureblood children are expected to mingle and interact."
Harry blinked rather owlishly, and looked down at his food. "Um...that sounds dreadful to be quite honest."
His bluntness was rewarded with peals of laughter from the three purebloods he was talking to, amounting to quite a few stares and glances from the other Slytherins around. He blushed, and ducked his head slightly.
"Yeah, it's bloody awful."
"Cas! Language!"
"Well it is!"
Calliope huffed, and rolled her eyes at her older brother. Seeing Harry's face, she sighed slightly and began speaking seriously again. "Look Harry the thing is, there is a lot of prejudice among purebloods. A lot of them think they are better than people who have Muggles in their family trees. There was a whole war about it, which I'm sure you already know about." Harry nodded, and shifted in his seat uncomfortably. He had noticed that her eyes flickered up to his scar when she said that. "Well in my opinion it isn't true. It's a load of cadswallop. I'm not unique in my views, however Slytherin House would have you believe otherwise. Most of us don't really care one way or another, but the ones who do care are the most vocal, and give Slytherin a bad name."
Harry nodded in understanding, reminded of the time in Muggle school in which he had been given a sheet of paper, a paint set, and a clear cup of water. As soon as he had attempted to wash out the brown paint from his brush, the water had become dark and murky, though there had only been a small amount of paint on the brush. However he chose not to speak aloud, feeling that maybe it wasn't an appropriate comparison to something that was so dark, and obviously so close to their hearts.
"Now that Callie has successfully talked about everything other than Hogwarts classes," Castor looked at his sister pointedly, who simply rolled her eyes, "They aren't anything to be afraid of."
He began telling Harry and Daphne about the classes they would experience, with the two of them hanging on to his every word. There was something absolutely fascinating to Harry, learning about the classes, the opportunities he had. Sure, he didn't understand a lot of what Castor was saying-things like electives, Hogsmeade, and newts-but it was like he was further exploring a brand new world. He decided that all first years must feel like this, because Daphne too was paying the utmost attention to Castor, her eyes sparkling with anticipation.
Then again girls were weird, and Harry would never pretend to understand them.
Before Harry knew it desert had appeared on the table before him, a myriad of splendid looking treats and goodies that Harry had never tried before. Though he really had more than his share of sweets on the compartment earlier in the day with Ron, he decided it really couldn't be too terrible to just try one sweet. The only problem was Harry had no idea what to choose. Thankfully, Daphne made it easier on him.
"Here, try the Treacle Tart, it's delicious!"
She put some on his plate, and as the desert touched Harry's tongue, he felt as though he had died and gone to heaven. Daphne and Calliope laughed at his reaction, however Castor just shook his head seriously, and said that Treacle Tart was no laughing matter, to which Harry was inclined to agree. Within minutes he had finished his desert, and was looking around, wondering what on earth would come next.
As the plates were cleared, and Dumbledore stood up to lead them in song, Harry rather wished he hadn't asked.
The dark haired young boy glanced over at the staff table as the student body began preparing to tuck in for the night. He noted Professor McGonagall, her face still stern, but almost protective as she watched over the Gryffindor table. He also saw Professor Quirrel with the same turban wrapped around his head, talking to a man cloaked completely in black.
All at once Harry's scar gave a quick throb of pain, and he looked at the Selwyn siblings. "Hey Castor, who is that?" He asked, directing the older boy's attention to the hook nosed, greasy haired man who looked utterly unpleasant, and seemed to be eyeing Harry with distaste.
"Oh him? That's Professor Snape. The Potions Master of Hogwarts, as well as the Slytherin Head of House. You'll be getting to know him really well here at Hogwarts."
"Great." Harry muttered, certain that it was not his imagination-Professor Snape had really been glaring at him!
Castor looked at him knowingly. "Already heard the gossip tree then? Well don't worry, Snape's mean to the other Houses, but that's because us Snakes are discriminated against, based on a few actions of others, and our pasts. So he makes up for it. He's not a bad bloke though, if you're in Slytherin, you're in his favor, though he really doesn't play favorites, he just seems to. Now you and Greengrass, come along. I'll show you to the Common Room, I'm a Prefect."
For the first time, Harry noticed the gold badge glittering on Castor's robes, and he grinned. "Is Calliope a Prefect too?" He asked, and the girl in question snorted. Hmm, maybe it wasn't just a Daphne thing then.
"Nope. I'm a Fourth Year. They don't start giving out Prefect positions until you reach Fifth Year. Cas over here is a Sixth Year though, and a responsible one too. I'd rather not be a Prefect, because it sounds dead boring to me, even if you do get to use the cool bathrooms."
Daphne laughed at that, and Harry took it to mean that when the time came, she wouldn't like to be a Prefect either. Still chatting conversationally, the two Slytherin first years followed the Selwyns out the Great Hall and on the unknown path to their dormitory.
The two siblings kept up a running commentary the entire time, and Harry took care to remember the details, such as there were 142 stair cases in Hogwarts, and 139 of those staircases moved. He also noted that the third corridor had not always been out of bounds, but this year that was apparently the case, though no one knew why. Harry found the intricate details of castle fascinating, and he was certain that he would love it here.
It helped when he turned slightly and saw Daphne. She was looking around with the same wide eyed awe that Harry was. It made him feel less alone in his amazement. He supposed it all boiled down to eleven year olds in the castle for the very first time. Nothing, not even a magical upbringing, could diminish the beauty and magic of the castle.
Harry noticed that they were descending further and further into the castle, and when he questioned the older Slytherins about this fact, they reassured him that the Slytherin Common Room was in the dungeons. However this thought was not reassuring at all, as Harry was quite terrified. After all, dungeons were used for housing and torturing prisoners, were they not?
On the other hand, Harry could not deny that there was a certain beauty about the dungeons. They were dark and creepy, but he could practically feel the magic tingling at his skin. Daphne seemed to sense it too, because both eleven year olds were quite, almost reverent, as they followed their older and wiser guides.
Well, Harry began to question the 'wiser' part, as the two of them halted in front of a blank wall. He looked at Daphne curiously, while she just arched her eyebrow in the same confusion. What was so peculiar about this wall in particular?
"All the Common Rooms have an entrance of sort. Gryffindors have a painting, Ravenclaws have to answer a riddle, and Hufflepuffs have a magically activated lever. This wall," Calliope gestured to the unassuming stone wall, "Is the entrance to ours. If you notice, the ring around these two torches," Once again she gestured, this time to the thin ring that surrounded the two pieces of each metal torch, "Is emerald green. That's how you know which wall to speak to, because otherwise it looks really weird if you just go around talking to random walls."
From the faint blush staining Calliope's cheeks, and the sniggers being uttered by her brother, Daphne and Harry got the feeling that Calliope had been guilty of that particular oddity some time in her own Hogwarts career. Harry made a mental note of the two torches, not wanting to be singled out more than he already was.
"Anyways, you just say the password, and the wall will open up, revealing the Slytherin Common Room, understand?"
Harry and Daphne nodded, eager to see what awaited them when the stone wall fell away. Grinning at their anticipation, Castor turned to the wall and spoke in a clear, projected voice.
"Tojourus Pur."
Daphne looked slightly troubled by the password, but Harry had no idea what it meant. He assumed it was Latin, or some other dead useless language, but he really didn't care. He was far more interested-and nervous though he wouldn't admit it-in seeing the Common Room that would be his for the next seven years.
The common room certainly did not disappoint. It was filled with green and silver draperies, and their were several windows, however instead of showing outside, they showed the bottom of the lake, giving the feeling of being in an aquarium. Harry started, as he saw a single, huge eye drift by one of the windows. Skulls and glowing green things filled the room, giving it a rather creepy, but still cozy effect. It was an interesting Common Room to say the least, and Harry felt slightly better knowing that if he had to be in Slytherin, at least he could have a safe haven in here.
Then however, he caught sight of Draco Malfoy with his two goons, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle flocking either side of him, all sending Harry fierce glares, and menacing grins. Castor was still talking, pointing out the boys and girls dormitories, and with a jolt, Harry realized he would be sharing a room with those guys.
He sighed and rubbed at his still sore scar.
Something told him this was going to be a very long year.