Chapter 1 - A Room of Activity
Thousands of candles floated lazily above the four large tables as the students excitedly poured into the large hall for the first time this year. Hundreds of students, all loudly talking about the exciting things they had done over the last two summer months, speculating over the upcoming school year and guessing who the new defence teacher would be this year. All together they made an impressive amount of noise that only really a school full of children could make. But the candles floating above their heads didn't to much attention to any of that, just like they didn't seem pay attention to other minor things like the laws of gravity and thermodynamics. They just floated on above the the increasingly louds room while not having a care in the world.
One of the older persons in the room, a teacher sitting at the raised table at the back of the hall, didn't have as much luck in ignoring the noise made by the large amount of children who had just entered the hall and ruined any chance of him enjoying the cup of tea he was drinking. With a small sigh, inaudible over the noise in the room, he sat down his cup and looked at the sea of children being too stuck up in their own little insignificant lives to be able to make their way over to their respective house tables in a somewhat orderly fashion. September first was always a day he looked forward to with much dread and for not the first time he wondered how he had ever let that old fool task him into taking up a teaching position. Teaching. Teaching children. He. How ridiculous, those good for nothing brats didn't even know the top side of a cauldron from the bottom, let alone the subtle usages of crystallized cudweed. The only thing those walking potion accidents managed to create consistently were molten cauldrons and acid burns.
Not wanting to think about the classes what would be starting next day he looked over to his students who were slowly starting to take seat at the leftmost table, ignoring the excited speculation some of his colleagues were making about their changes to take the quidditch cup this year. The members of his house had at least managed to carry themselves somewhat more dignified than the other houses. His eyes rested briefly on a somewhat small raven haired boy before quickly moving on. Oh what a joy he had turned out the be last year. What a joke. Harry Bloody Potter being sorted into Slytherin, no one had seen that one coming and he had wondered for weeks what in the name of morgana's ass that old, moldy, arrogant piece of cloth was thinking when he dumped the bloody boy into his figurative hands. After the first few weeks that year he was sure the whole world was just out to get him. The boy didn't have an ambitious bone in his body, the old demented man hadn't said anything that anybody sane would be able to understand and the first years seemed even worse as potions as the ones before them. However impossible that should have been.
The boy in question was ignorant about the internal rant his head of house was currently going through, he was quietly talking with the boy next to him about their upcoming classes while some of his year mates were discussing the latest advancements in racing brooms and whether the new Cleansweep would finally be able to surpass the advancements Nimbus had been able to make in the last years. The boy didn't have too many friends and didn't talk much with most of the yearmates in his house. He had learned the hard way last year about how to behave himself in his house and the politics that played in all years within the walls of the common room. By now he had been able to make a few friends and had been able to come to somewhat decent terms with the rest of his year. Slytherins naturally didn't hold many social contacts outside of their house but he had at least found a single Ravenclaw girl he could team up with during charms and sometimes study together with in the library.
Listening to one of his friends as he described the trip to Italy he had made over the summer the boy took a look over at the head table. The old headmaster was discussing something with the stern librarian, although he seemed more into the conversation than she was. The short charms master was weaving his arms around excitedly at the chubby herbology professor, probably being far too busy talking about the latest discoveries in the area of teaspoon animations to notice the cup he was knocking over. His head of house and potions professor was sneering at the occupants of the hall with a particular sense of disgust that seemed to be reserved for only start of term fests. At the end of the table sat a middle aged man with an out of place bright cloak and a smile on his face that made him look overly happy with himself.
By simple process of elimination it could be concluded that it was the new defence against the dark arts professor, his previous one having disappeared under unknown circumstances at the end of his last year.
Leaning over to his friend who had just finished a story about the incredibly interesting magical ruins he visited in southern Italy he asked if he knew who the new professor was.
"Oh he, yeah I've heard of him before, my mom seems obsessed over him for some reason, Gilderoy Lockhart."
Lockhart he had seen that name before, on the overly long list of DADA books he had to purchase for the coming school year. A teacher whose only required reading material were books he had written himself was either more interested with the galleons in his pocket than the the quality of his lessons. Or someone who believed the opinions of his colleagues in the field to be insignificant compared to the knowledge he had to offer. Either way he couldn't be much worse than the stuttering heap of garlic they had last year.
The boy's thought were broken by the doors great halls opening once again and a single line of eleven year olds entered the room in a much more orderly fashion then the older students had done. The reason that they entered the room in an organized single line instead of "opening of the floodgates" method the older years prefered didn't come down to them being better mannered or anything like that. No the new students moved mostly as calm as they were because the vast majority of them seemed to be hugely intimidated by the great hall and the students inside of it, most which were currently scrutinizing the young children. Some of the first years were looking outright terrified to be there and seemed more ready to take on a full grown dragon than do their sorting. There were always some exceptions to be found each year though, one small blonde boy seemed to be excited more than anything the be here, and was probably going to end up with neck cramps from the way he kept looking around. A girl with dirty blond hair near the end of the line had a way of walking that could best be described as "floating", although here feet were definitely touching the ground and a girl with curly hair seemed to be to busy looking the hufflepuff table, probably looking for her older brother or sister to note that she was holding up the line being her.
As the line headed by the transfiguration professor reached the foot of the raised platform that held the head table McGonagall put, the same old unbalanced stool that was used last year, on the platform and placed the the Sorting Hat on top of it, after sitting on the stool for just over a minute in a seemingly arrogant manner that only a thousand year old piece of cloth could manage, it opened it mouth and started singing a song of some sort that it had probably spend the majority of the last year coming up with.
Harry took another look at the students who would be joining the population in the castle for the next seven year and wondered if children were getting smaller every year or if he had really been that tiny just twelve months ago.
The song itself wasn't to much to be written home of, the same old story about house values, inter house unity and various other things that were so far disconnected from the reality of life at Hogwarts that Harry wondered if the old hat had ever bothered to actually take note about the happenings around it since the discovery of America. Still he applauded politely together with the rest of the older students, the first years being either to confused or scared to do so.
Once the sorting had started Harry tuned out from most of the things that happened together with the majority of the student population as Blaise continued his story about his travels through continental Europe, only pausing his story for the customary applause when their house got a new member.
Once the final first year, an obvious Weasley going by the red hair, had joined the rest of her family at the table on the far side of the room, being loudly welcomed by three of the male red heads while a fourth red head just looked annoyed at the behaviour of his siblings, the headmaster rose to do his annual and mostly futile attempt at impressing the young minds in front of him.
"Welcome", he began, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts, before you all begin your best attempt at finishing the large amount of food that is prepared for this occasion every year I have a few general announcements to make and a few more personal words I would like to share with you."
"First of all, the forrest just of the school grounds didn't have it's name changed over the summer and is, as usual, forbidden"
"Secondly, Mr. Filch has asked me to once again remind all of you that the, increasingly lengthy, list of forbidden items can be found on the door to his office and that all students planning to purchase anything, either through owl order, or during the Hogsmeade weekends should make sure to check the list beforehand."
"And thirdly, it is my please to announce to you our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Gilderoy Lockhart."
Dumbledore applauded politely, a gesture followed by the other staff members and a minority of the students while the new teacher in question gave an, obviously practiced smile and waved slightly to the children sitting before him.
"With that out of the way I'm sure you're all desperate to begin on the banquet and continue catching up with your friends. But before that, I would like to say a few words. Fish! Sidewalk! Window! Pond!"
About as usefull as the speech last year, Harry thought as the headmaster sat back in his chair as the table in front of him were filled to the brim with a decent variety of food in an instant.
During the meal Blaise was as usual much too preoccupied with the plate in front of him to pay any attention to his friends so Harry resorted to having a discussion with the sole female member of his small group of friends about the curriculum for the upcoming year and the chances of the new DADA professor possessing any knowledge about the subject he is supposed to be teaching.
After the hall full of students had once again failed the challenge set to them by the elves down in the kitchen the students starting making their way out of the hall and towards their respective common hall. As Harry stood up he heard the new fifth year perfect call his new housemates with a lot more enthusiasm as, the now sixth year, prefect had managed last year. He let the skinny boy pass and made his way to the dungeons with his friends walking at a small distance behind the third year students that had been sitting to his left during the meal. Making his way through the, currently opened, stone arch that gave access to the well decorated Slytherin common hall he made his way over to the hallway leading to the second year dormitories.
Harry didn't feel like watching about a dozen intimidated or scared eleven year olds being introduced to the rules they would have to follow for the next seven years and was tired in a way that you could only get from sitting still for the entire day. That he just entered his room, did the usual short evening ritual of personal hygiene before grabbing one of his study books from his trunk and going to bed.
He would read through the book, "Transient Transfigurations - Vol. II" in this case, for an hour or so before going to sleep as he usually did during his months in Hogwarts.
Harry had spent a significant portion of his time in the latter parts of the year studying for his classes and practicing various forms of magic. After all if you didn't want to be at the bottom of the hierarchy in Slytherin, you needed some way to show that you were better than the others. And having a greater magical skill than your peers was one of the easier ways for him to do such a thing if one didn't already come from a long line of "better than others".
His friend had suggested that he probably had a fortune sitting around somewhere in a vault, something which would come handy while navigating the social ladder of Slytherin. But the goblins had refused do as much as even confirm or deny the mere existence of any further potter vaults before he was fifteen or had express written permission from his guardians which removed any opportunities in that field for the foreseeable future.
While the large amount of fame that came with being The-Boy-Who-Lived would at least assure him a minimum level of social standing, since nobody wanted to truly antagonize anyone who might end up holding a significant amount of power in the future and most "proper" Slytherins were not above setting aside something as minor as personal believes if there was a personal gain to be made. The specific methods he had used to achieve his fame still wasn't to appreciated by a significant portion of his audience. While few people would make any outright statement of the sort, it was clear that not every member of his house appreciated the actions of his one year old self.