"Or perhaps in Slytherin you'll make your real friends. Those cunning folks use any means to achieve their ends."
The tables were far less occupied than they should have been. When their parents described this moment, they spoke of uproarious cheers and running down crowded isles; they spoke of finding familiar faces at a first glance and desperately squeezing in between housemates to find room to sit on the benches.
There was none of that here.
When the first years pushed their way past the doors, toiling nervously behind the woman of legends known as Professor (and now Headmistress) McGonagall, the crowd around them fell to a quick hush. True, there were still a fair amount of people in the crowd before and around them, but it was easy to spot where others used to sit on the worn wood of the Grand Hall tables.
It didn't feel right.
Still, there was an excitement in the air that cut through the melancholy stuck hanging around abandoned friends and empty seats. People at each table seemed to perk up in interest while looking over the incoming students.
"They must see something damn interesting in us," a boy on the outer edge of the crowd muttered. He promptly fell flat on his nose while walking by a group of seemingly too innocent Ravenclaws.
Playthings, was all Kiba could think of. It would explain why they're all so interested, but as she took another look at the empty seats, she found another word that suited the situation much better: distractions. As far as Kiba cared, as long as they didn't trip her as well, she'd be happy. Truly, she just wanted to sit with her table and eat before she became grumpy enough to make too many enemies.
A clanging glass brought Kiba's attention to the front once more. There, the headmistress stood before the classic podium of wood and magic and pride that her mother had one described like a castle in a fairy tale. With her mother's voice ringing in her ears, Kiba could trace stories in the wood- the dent from the food fight of 1966 that no one seemed to bother to bang out, despite how simple it would be; the chip off the bottom left hand corner from the time Dumbledore tripped in his new shoes, flashing the leather heeled and buckled boots to most of the cafeteria, and tilting the podium just a bit too far, breaking off that corner piece—the same corner piece that now lived in Kiba's house after landing in her mother's food that night; the shavings from the sides and corners of the podium where sneaky witches and wizards would carve off a few pieces on their last year and keep them in lockets or charms to always have a piece of the school with them.
"Tonight, we find ourselves torn." Kiba shook free of her mother's voice and forced herself to pay attention. "While we wish to mourn our colleagues that we have lost in battle, those who used to share a bed and a life with us, we find that we cannot mourn forever. We have lost friends and family to death and to enemies as well as to responsibilities and missions, but no matter who we have lost or for how long they have been gone, we can find comfort in knowing that, as students of the greatest wizarding school in the world, they would not have expected us to sit back and watch the world turn.
"We have burned and broken down and rebuilt in a vicious, repetitive cycle these past few years, but that will be no more. For we once again have fresh blood coming into our mix, pure and mixed and experiencing magic for the first time. This year, we will not burn down or turn our backs—this year and for years to come, we will thrive in power, knowledge, hopefulness, and nourishment. We will teach each other—new to old and old to new—for everyone can teach anyone if they try. But we will do more than try in this upcoming year—we will thrive."
Despite the holes in the tables and the previously somber moods, the applause surrounding the new students was uproarious and relatively startling. Grins spread across faces and friends bumped shoulders with one another in good cheer—the affection between housemates and incoming students was clear and infectious and if Kiba wasn't so hungry, she may have smiled as well. Instead, she took in the warmth from the strangers around her and allowed herself to feel at home for the first time today. Embrace it, she reminded herself.
"Attention please, so we can begin the official services of the night," McGonagall's voice rose high over the students with a practiced ease. Even with the sudden hush, the somber mood did not return. Instead, it was replaced with thumping feet and bouncing legs and people shaking out their arms to release at least a bit of tension. "Now, I will call you up in alphabetical order, you will take a seat on the stool, I will place the Sorting Hat upon your head, and you will find a seat at your table once you have been sorted. Yes? Good. Now, Alberta Aageis."
Kiba found that she cared very little to keep track of such valuable information. She didn't care about how long the Hat took or when it hesitated. Instead, she cared to observe the other students, mostly those who had been sorted for years now. Most of them were watching the podium with an almost frightening amount of interest—wide eyes and bushy tails can mean rabies just as easily as it means awake—while a few others mouthed words of encouragement to familiar faces in the crowd. The more Kiba observed, the more uneasy she felt—there were lines drawn in the sand here that someone had tried to hide with strict words and quiet reprimands. The cheers were loud in each house and many yelled along with one another, but whenever it was a Slytherin house up to bat, only a few Hufflepuffs and an occasional Ravenclaw would give so much as a hoot to help with the encouragement. It wasn't excessively clear if you weren't watching for it, but if even Kiba knew how to spot a pureblood and a feud at 11 years old, so did the upperclassmen.
Before she could decide much more on what to do about the situation, the found that they were calling the S's up to the plate and it wasn't long before it was her turn to hit. "Kiba Tsalmaveth," McGonagall called. Her voice was even and solid and Kiba knew that this was a woman who read the morning paper, so she appreciated that. Others' whisperings were far less subtle, going so far as to hear a single boo from the back corner. "Silence!"
Kiba merely faced the Sorting Hat, not bothering to sit down. McGonagall held the artifact to eye level and, when close enough, the Hat seemed to breath in her very essence of blood before calling out "Slytherin!" This wasn't much of a surprise to anyone who knew the name—be it for its long-term history of its short-term one, Kiba didn't really care. She merely nodded and made her way towards the cheers of the table to the far left of the entrance.
"Congrats, Mate!"
"You'll do well here."
"Thank bloody god, a girl!" Kiba supposed she had missed the incoming sausage fest of first years added to the table of green and silver.
Most of the words down the line spoke of encouragement, but a few people hissed and kicked at her ankles, speaking words of resentment.
"Filthy Death Eater."
"Stereotypical Draco Wanna-be." Ah, Draco, haven't seen him in years. Apparently he is still blonde as well. Pale too, or is that just too assuming?
Ignoring the mixed feelings for the most part, Kiba found a relatively inviting spot near the back corner with her back to the wall, giving her a clear view of both the main entrance and the entire floor of students. To her left sat a boy that must have been in his third year at latest—long, black locks were tied back in a ponytail, but much of his facial features were hidden due to his astute interest in the podium that kept his face hidden from her. Kiba could see a working man in him, with his calloused hands, streaked nails, and sun-kissed skin being relative giveaways.
On her other side sat a squirrelly little thing that glared at her with all the intensity of a bunny. The thing she dared call first year had curls thicker than most men's wrists and tighter than a spring—I wonder if they bounce—as well as a small, pert nose and mouth that seemed to pair oddly well with her large eyes. There was a lack of surprise in finding that the ginger had a thick stream of freckles that went across her nose like a scar, but if Kiba didn't feel like she was supposed to feel threatened at the moment, she maybe would have told her just how pretty she thought the girl was.
Across from her sat two faces that she was pretty sure were supposed to be twins but genuinely could not look more different. The boy on the left had shorted black hair with country-club curls, a thin-bridged nose and a hard chin, looking like he had walked out of the My-Daddy-Is-A-Lawyer-So-Touch-Me-And-I'll-Sue magazine; the boy on the right had blond hair cut into a military buzz with a freckled, wide nose, and a lower lip that was noticeably bigger than the top one, giving the boy a perpetual pout. The two of the managed to share the same calculating, unnerving purple-eyed stare. Kiba suspected contacts but couldn't tell at the moment. She also suspected the two of them to be at least second years due to their green and silver ties that the first years lacked.
Last but not least, slightly to her right and across from the almost-threatening-bunny was a boy who seemed to have abandoned the color spectrum and gone straight for translucent. Pink eyes confirmed her suspicions of albinism and a lack of a house colors also confirmed that he was a first year as well, but other than that, very little was to be seen in way of picking him apart. He matched Kiba's stare head on and when that round of Slytherin cheers died down, he stuck his open hand across the empty table. "Sallow, Cafard Sallow."
"What a name," Kiba muttered, not as quietly as she probably should have, but the dark haired boy to her left seemed to be the only one laughing. Cafard turned pink in the ears so Kiba hurried to reach over and grasp his hand. "Sorry, I meant to say Kiba Tsalmaveth."
"Yeah," Cafard grinned, "I know. I was actually paying attention." Kiba probably should have blushed or looked ashamed, but instead, she merely shrugged, giving one more firm shake before drawing her hand back.
The blonde army recruit of the twins stuck his hand out next. "Since we're doing introductions, I'm Helios and this is my brother, Selene." She shook hands with both of them as well, getting a much less hearty handshake from Selene than she did from Helios. "Hey, I've heard your name from somewhere before, haven't I?"
"From Headmistress, maybe," Kiba quipped with a small smile, hoping to just go right past this specific part of introductions.
The angry bunny to her side made sure of otherwise. "You know that's not what he meant- that's totally not what you meant." Did she just cut herself off? "He meant that he had seen your name in the papers as the Traitor Daughter that came back to Ireland after her Daddy was killed in the war while fighting for his precious master Voldemort." She smirked to herself and nodded, obviously very proud that she had remembered that biased section from the morning's post.
Kiba waited a moment before putting her elbows on the table and propping her cheek up on her raised hands. She turned to the bunny with a raised brow and yawned before asking, "Are you done yet? While I'm impressed with your memorization skills, I must admit, my joke was funnier." From the corner of her eye, Kiba could see Selena look just as affronted as the girl next to Kiba did, while Helios merely grinned. "Before you insult me, can I at least have your name?"
Humbled—to an extent, at least—the girl gave a small huff before sitting straight once more. "Mysha Dratuye. It's nice to meet you." She stuck out her hand as though she hadn't tried to embarrass Kiba only seconds ago. Kiba was trying terribly hard to be the bigger person, which was incredibly difficult after not having eaten in over eight hours, but shook her hand anyway before sitting normally once more and turning to face the mystery boy behind her.
Throughout the introductions, he had turned to look at Kiba, giving her a clear look at his face. A cursory look over his face told him that he'd been in quite a fight at one point—a large scar cut from the top of his right cheekbone, across half of lower lip, and down to the edge of the left side of his jaw. While it had healed, it had left a pale, clearly visible line that Kiba knew to be permanent. The coloring also gave notice to Kiba that the boy's sun-toned skin was not his natural color, but Kiba felt that it looked best on him—she couldn't picture him as pale as she was. Two black bangs fell from the corner of his ponytail into his dark brown eyes that met hers with the same intensity that he had been watching the stage with.
Kiba stuck out her hand as an invitation and saw the corner of his mouth quirk up before reaching his hand out as well. "Asher Kuna," he muttered, voice much softer than she had expected, considering his powerful presence. "I have to ask," he muttered as he left go of Kiba's hand. Her heart clenched for a moment before she nodded. "Fang, really?"
Kiba paused.
She really should have known that he was just as proficient in language as she was considering his earlier notice.
But she hadn't.
So, instead, she paused.
And then she smiled a small smile—one so small that it probably didn't really show anywhere but her eyes. For the first time since she had left her mother's side over 18 hours ago, she smiled a real smile.
"No, Protector, close though." Asher raised an eyebrow. Trying to find the other language it is rooted in? "Hebrew, not Japanese, but really you probably should have known that, Weasel."
Asher barked a single laugh that drew the eyes of some people still cheering around the group. "Fair enough, kid, fair enough!" He gave a quick ruffle of Kiba's hair and, despite her ensuing whine, kept it up just long enough to keep himself entertained while McGonagall finished off the last of the incoming students.
"Attention please, once more!" When the room fell silent and all eyes were on her, she was found behind the row of tables instead of the podium and a glass of red wine in hand. "Please, welcome our new students with one more set of applause!" The result was immediate as people stood and stomped their feet and hooted and hollered. With a smile on her face, McGonagall waited for everyone to quiet down before continuing. "Now, just a few rules before we eat. After dinner, students will be led to their rooms by their prefects. Non-first-year students will stay in the Great Hall for ten extra minutes to give the others time to navigate without distraction before following. The rules for this year will be as they always have been: The Forbidden Forest has been named rightly, so do your best to avoid it if you don't wish for extended detention. Be in your rooms by curfew, be in your classes by the right times, and report suspicious activities to a prefect or instructor or there will be consequences. Unsupervised magic is allowed and even encouraged, but doing intentional or even accidental harm to another student or the school itself will result in consequences to be determined based of the severity of damage." Headmistress paused, giving the room of doe-eyed, fresh-blooded students plenty of time to let the fear sink in. Asher's snort and eye-roll from beside her gave Kiba the feeling that these rules had been bent before.
"If that is all understood, then all I have to left to say is one simple thing." McGonagall raised her glass and a wind flickered through the room, bursting every candle to life and filling the tables with food of quantities and qualities Kiba had never seen.
"Welcome to Hogwarts."
Dinner was relatively uneventful outside of regular introductions as most of the table was too busy shoving spectacular food into their face to talk. Kiba did manage to learn a few things though:
1. The twins are third years and both Chasers on the Quidditch team
2. Asher is a second year and the Seeker on the Quidditch team
3. The incoming year was to be officially declared as the year of the Sausage Fest due to the lacking of girls in the incoming year, leaving the boys at a 17 to 1 ratio with girls. The overall lack of women in Slytherin was due to the graduation two years ago of the year of the Milk Duds which took a huge percentage of the house's women with it.
All of this seemed to be the most recent run down of Slytherin history that didn't involve depressing stuff like death, so most of the house stuck to fun topics like so. That didn't mean that Kiba suddenly turned a blind-eye, though. She could still feel glares, some from her own table and others from table as far away as Gryffindor, but she had expected that. What she hadn't expected was the amount of Slytherins glaring at puppy-dog Cafard, of all people. He didn't seem excessively bothered by it, but his intense focus and determination on staying in the conversation and moment gave Kiba the signal that he had noticed the unblinking eyes as well. So, while not the best conversationalist, Kiba did her best to keep up with the conversation and eventually, when it all began to flow a bit more easily, Cafard was able to relax.
Everyone started to relax about three quarters of the way through the dinner. It stayed that way until right after dessert hit, when a sudden excitement began to weave its way through the Slytherin table. Kiba, Cafard, and Mysha shared a confused look when the other three didn't seem confused at all. Mysha was the first to speak up, sounded much less like a royal bitch then she had at the start of the night. "Is there anything you guys wanna tell us?"
A single, unison headshake.
Cafard took the next shot. "Are you sure?"
No eye-contact either.
Cafard and Mysha shared another glance before Mysha pushed Kiba's shoulder a bit. Your turn! Kiba took a moment, thinking over what she knew about the boys so far. Honestly, not enough to have blackmail, but maybe enough to find a weak point? From what she could see, Asher was a no-go on leverage: too smart, too fast of a thinker, wouldn't fall for most tricks. Selene was similar, having already been distrusting and relatively disliking of Kiba, which wouldn't allow her to get very far. Kiba found herself staring at her last possible target.
For the low-blow it is, then.
"Hey Helios, you said you're a… Catcher, right?"
"Chaser!" The correction was immediate and without thought. His brother promptly let his head fall to the table at the broken vow of silence.
Kiba nodded as if in deep thought. "Ah, right, sorry. I bet that's a pretty scary position, huh? With all those people and bludgers coming after you?" Kiba's eyes may have widened to Mysha's by now with false innocence.
Pride got to the boy and he leaned back, crossing his hands behind his head and puffing up his chest. "Yeah, I mean I guess so, but I am a man of men, so it doesn't bother me too much."
Couldn't have said the words better myself, Kiba thought with a smirk as she softly placed her heel of the very edge of the bench, directly between his legs. "A man of men, eh? How much does your manhood really matter to you, then?" With a wicked, lopsided grin, Kiba let her eyes trail down to where her foot sat right outside of the zone of Helios' family jewels. He gulped thickly and looked back to her. "Talk, quickly- before my foot starts to cramp and I have to stretch would be preferable." Asher let out a snort of laugher and shook his head.
"The Slytherin blood runs thick in this one," he said, catching the ears of several surrounding housemates who all turned to follow the situation. To Helios' further embarrassment, his own brother moved out of the way to give his mates a proper view of the situation.
"Waiting for an answer, Chaser," Kiba hummed, earning herself a defeated glare from the boy in question.
"Nasty little first-year…" He muttered, trailing off when Kiba began flexing her foot. Several other around them laughed at the boy's predicament, but none bothered to try to help. "After we get back to the dorms, we're playing the Lying Game in the dorm. You have to go around and tell a truth and if you get caught lying, you have to take a shot of Firewhisky dry."
As Kiba lowered her foot, Cafard gave him an odd glance. "What was so terrible about that?"
It was Selene that squirmed on this one. "It gets…mean. Like, Drunk-Gryffindor-After-Losing-A-Quidditch-Match mean." When the three first-years continued to stare, utterly clueless, he sighed. "Look, people hold grudges and get nasty and they target first-years and if you back out, you get branded as a loser, but if you don't join at all, you can get away with saying that you just didn't want to and be safe. Playing is like looking upperclassmen in the eye and challenging them."
"How do they target people? Doesn't it just go around in a big circle?"
Good point, Kiba almost said, but then took one look at her face and realized that there was no way Mysha was actually going through with this. Brat just wants information…she's going to watch tonight, isn't she?
"Basically," Helios brought her back to reality, "someone will start with a simple truth or lie and it'll continue like that for about three or four rounds, and then suddenly someone starts throwing in some really weird or bad stuff. If you give an answer that's like a really weak answer compared to the one before you, you have to take the shot, so it sort of just starts leveling up and gets into deep personal shit really fast."
Asher cut through with a nod. "The worst part is that people can target. Basically, after you tell a truth, you get to pick the next person. So twenty people can pick you one after another with little to no consequences." Even Cafard was beginning to look green in the gills at the idea of the game.
"Do you guys play?" Kiba asked. With varying degrees of yeah and even a very excited yes or two from snooping surrounding Slytherins, Kiba nodded solemnly. "Yeah, guys, sorry but I'm playing."
Asher sounded like he was about to encourage the situation when he recalled the lack of a "not" in Kiba's wording. "Did- did you just listen to us at all?"
"Yeah, that's why I want to play. It sounds fun."
Kiba shrugged and went back to eating before Asher forced her to put down her utensils and look him in the eye. "Kiba, no. Bad idea-very bad idea-" Kiba began to shake her head, refusing to believe that such an interesting game wouldn't have enough rewards to outweigh the danger. "Kiba, we're trying to keep you alive and liking all of us long enough to actually become real, close friends. Can't you just listen to your big, brotherly upper-classmates?"
The words sparked through Kiba's chest. Real, close friends. She hadn't exactly had time the past few years for making friends. She didn't remember the last time she had friends that she could be completely honest with. "Friends are honest with each other, right?" The others nodded with varying degrees of caution. "Then I think this is the best way to get the awkward backstories out of the way, so I'm going to play."
With that perfect timing, McGonagall called for the first-years to find their prefects and follow them to their dorms. As Cafard, Mysha, and Kiba stood, Kiba gave a backwards wave to the three they left behind. "I'll see you in game, friends."