Author's Note: I do not, and never will, own Harry Potter.
I know I have far too many unfinished projects, but I've been reading too many stories where Snape rescues Harry in some way, whether from the Dursleys or himself, and I had to try my own hand at it. This is obviously AU. Warning for child abuse, child neglect, and bullying.
The worst bit is that he expected it.
The day had been going too well, that was the problem. Harry never had good days. Something always happened to shake them up.
Like now, when the blasted Sorting Hat had opened up its frayed brim of a mouth, and blared out "Slytherin" to the rest of the shocked silent Great Hall.
"Right," Harry said bitterly to himself, stepping down off the stool and handing the Hat back to the strict-looking Professor who now looked like she'd swallowed a lemon.
"There, Mr. Potter," she said, nodding her head at the table draped with green and silver.
"Thank you, ma'am," he replied, piping up a bit louder. He knew better than to be impolite, especially with adults. His back prickled with every step, and he eyed his new Housemates carefully.
Most of them looked like they wanted to murder him slowly and stuff the pieces in the bin.
Nothing new then, Harry thought and tried to pretend the betrayed look Ron Weasley had just given him didn't hurt.
"Still sure you know the right sort, Potter?" Draco Malfoy sniped, his upper lip too high up to be a proper sneer. Harry just looked at him. He was too tired for this. His head still hurt from the frying pan Aunt Petunia had aimed at his head (in her customary "I'm not really trying to hit you, I don't know why you just walked into it" way), not to mention the bruises still scattered across various parts of his body. The Dursleys had not been pleased with his return after his wayward adventures with Hagrid in magical London, and were especially keen that he knew it.
The Headmaster said nonsense words, spouted something about not dying a most painful death (Harry couldn't decide just then if that meant he wanted to seek out the third floor corridor with all possible haste, or leave it until next week), and then the tables filled with so much food, the wood groaned. He couldn't hide the look of shock, no matter how much he wanted to.
"Not used to how magical folk eat, Potter?" Draco sneered.
"How would I be, Malfoy, you know as well as I do that I lived with Muggles," Harry replied patiently, provoking muffled snickers from around the table. Interesting, Harry thought as he served himself. Tiny portions, and he knew people would notice, but he also had no desire to spend the rest of his first night here with stomach cramps, being sick in the loo.
Despite the repeated kicks under the table and the hex that made his arm feel like it had been burnt for a few seconds, dinner went surprisingly well, and it wasn't until they were filing into the dungeons that Harry realised his new Head of House was the hook-nosed, stringy-haired man who had looked at Harry like he hated him.
Of course, he thought, his heart sinking. He would have quite liked having that strict woman. But she was Head of Gryffindor, where Ron was. He somehow doubted the Sorting Hat would take back his Sorting.
He'd argued with the bloody thing, too. Put me anywhere but Slytherin, he'd said. After seeing Malfoy get shoved in there, and hearing the nasty way his new friend had spoken about it, he wanted to be as far away from the house of snakes as possible. The Hat had disagreed.
"First years in front, please," Professor Snape ordered once they had all lined up in Slytherin House's common room, breaking Harry from his reverie. He found himself between Draco Malfoy (who gave him a presumably-intended-to-be-subtle jab in the ribs) and a quiet, nervous-looking boy named Theodore Nott.
"Welcome to Slytherin House," Professor Snape went into his customary spiel. He appeared to be glaring at Harry in particular. "While you are here, the House will be your family, and outside of these walls, you will present as such. The rest of the school will certainly see to it that you feel unwelcome, but you needn't."
More stuff about House unity, including the unpleasant reminder that if House points were ever taken, you would also be serving at least one detention directly with Snape.
The House rules seemed fairly simple to Harry, who was used to the Dursleys. Curfew was at ten o'clock, eleven on weekends (midnight if you were a sixth or seventh year). The first years in particular were expected to be back and in the common room or the dormitory by nine o'clock. All students were expected to show up at every meal, unless they delivered an acceptable excuse, signed by a prefect or a staff member. Show respect at all times to Professor Snape and the rest of staff. Do not misuse the house elves' time. (Harry had no idea what a house elf was, so he was fairly sure he would be able to keep that one.) Homework was to be completed on time, either in the common room or in the library. If Professor Snape found out that you weren't turning in or completing your work, you would face an increasingly dire set of consequences, based on number of infractions.
The only thing that really bothered Harry was the required medical check-up in the Hospital Wing. Every Slytherin was expected to, Professor Snape intended to escort them all, and of course, first years would be first in line (thankfully not that day). But if this Madam Pomfrey was anything like the Muggle nurses and doctors Harry had known throughout his childhood, he was certain that she would gloss over any...abnormalities, too.
Professor Snape dismissed them all with a frown, and Harry clamoured up the stairs with the rest of the first years. The dormitory was huge and sprawling, with a thickly plush dark green carpet, and silver-patterned wallpaper. Green snakes danced up each panel, making him feel quite dizzy.
His trunk had been placed at the foot of the bed closest to the door, and he was quick to claim his bed, despite a scowl from Malfoy and a considering look from Blaize Zabini. There were quite a few boys in his year, Harry noticed. Him, Malfoy, Nott, Zabini, Crabbe, and Goyle. He hadn't managed to catch all the girls' names, he just knew the rather hulking one was Millicent Bullstrode and the girl with sharp eyes and a pug nose was named Pansy Parkinson.
As the others got ready for bed around him, Harry realized with a nervous pang that his pyjamas were more than a bit... Well, dreadful was the kindest word he could think of. They had been Dudley's, so of course they were only about five sizes too big, and by now, more holes than cloth. He didn't want to sleep in his robes, but what choice did he have?
Maybe I can send Hedwig to Madam Malkin's or something in the morning, he thought, trying to stifle a jaw-cracking yawn. Crawling under the covers, ensuring the curtains were drawn tight and fastened around him, Harry fell into an uneasy sleep.
It would be broken soon enough.