Gryffindor values bravery, daring, nerve, and chivalry.
Hufflepuff values hard work, patience, loyalty, and fair play.
Ravenclaw values intelligence, knowledge, and wit.
Slytherin values ambition, cunning and resourcefulness.
The Wizard doesn't make the House. The House makes the Wizard.
What if, instead, the opposite was true?
Harry Potter was, in one word, befuddled. There was a sense of deep finality, as the Hat didn't as much as gaze him before sending him trotting over to the Slytherin side of the table. He accepted that. He understood that. He was tiring of sleeping in the closet, he was completely unfazed by the whispers, and already he wanted his share of the 'Boy-Who-Lived' deal.
Slytherin valued ambition, cunning and resourcefulness. He was all three.
Draco held a small smile on his face as he gestured for the spot near him. "Already showing off your friendship, Malfoy?" a girl remarked from his side.
"Who says I'm not the one showing him off?" Harry retorted crisply, taking the offered place.
"The books were helpful?" Draco said in a quieted whisper.
"I have no idea what I'm saying," Harry murmured back. "But I think they are."
"No showing weakness," Draco smiled as his face held itself up primly and properly. "You can't let them smell it."
"Who? The Gryffindors?"
"No, the Ravens," Draco replied.
The Ravenclaws' eyes were disquieting, to say the least. They seemed to be staring at him, analysing his every minuscule inflexion of the muscles and the lips, before scribbling down this or that something. The Gryffindors boisterously didn't care, welcoming happily among their ranks those chosen by the hat. The Hufflepuffs cheerfully clapped for everyone sorted, not caring in the slightest if they went to their house or to the Ravenclaws.
"Enough hush-hushing," a prefect said. "Keep your backs up straight. Potter, I'll have a word with you later."
"Yes, sir," Harry nodded. The Prefect was a position of power. So were the Headboy and Headgirl, and the books Malfoy had sent to him had been clear. One had to respect power, until one was ready to strike to gather his own.
He wondered where he would have gone, if he hadn't met Malfoy at the clothing shop.
"They're still looking this way, aren't they?" a third year muttered, thankful for having his back to the Ravens and yet at the same time anxious about the feeling of their stares on him.
"Don't let it get to you Adrian," the one next to him said. "They're looking at Potter, not at you."
The sorting finished.
"Very well! Very, very well!" Albus Dumbledore clapped his hands, standing upright with a bright smile on his face. "A wonderful new year at Hogwarts is about to begin! I hope you all are ready for this upcoming year, both first years, last years, students who have the Owls, the Newts…uhm, and also all the students in the middle years I would say!" the old headmaster took a deep breath. "To this day, I always hope for all of you to walk out of this school as better students, better men and women, and upstanding citizens. I can guarantee you, this isn't just my Gryffindorish side speaking! I can hope you will make wonderful memories of your time at school, I can hope you will consider this place, this wonderful rock building —of quite an interesting architectural value I might add…"
"Albus," Minerva whispered sternly. "They're going to starve if you keep this long."
"Oh, sure," Albus blinked. "As I always say, I hope Hogwarts can become your home away from home. If anyone wants some warm milk, the kitchens are usually open at any time, just don't be scared by the house elves. You can find them…"
"Albus!" Minerva sternly rebuked the headmaster. "Ahem," Minerva McGonagall stood. "The students are not allowed to enter the kitchen, and they aren't allowed anywhere around Hogwarts past curfew."
"Tickle the pear, ask direction from your housemates," Albus mouthed with his hands covering his mouth. The first years giggled at such antiques, Harry finding himself with his lips twitching upwards. Draco was no less, and even the older students all held amused gazes.
"Headmaster," jovially, Sprout whispered in a high enough voice for everyone to hear—making it more of an announcement than an actual whisper. "The dinner."
"Right, right," placing a hand to smack at his forehead, Albus Dumbledore snapped his fingers. "Have a jolly good dinner…uhm…how do the youngsters nowadays like to say it…oh, right, 'That's all folks!'."
"That is Dumbledore?" Draco murmured in disbelief as the plates in front of them filled with food.
"He is Dumbledore," the Slytherin Prefect replied. "And you'd do better not say anything about his…quirks. He might look a bit odd, but he's the owner of enough titles and ranks to be someone you don't really want to make angry."
Draco nodded. "It's just…father said I had to keep an open mind if I saw him."
"Why?" Harry asked, curious.
"Because…and here I'm quoting my father, 'he won't stab you in the back. He'll charge at you with a broadsword, all the while speaking gibberish about repenting'. Our family does owe him much, I suppose…"
Draco bit his lips. "You read about the fall of the Dark Lord right?"
"Ah, you mean…he who must not be named?" Harry replied.
"Yes, exactly," Draco nodded. "Well, my father ended up entangled with him and his supporters. I'm telling you this straight, Harry. My father never willingly served. But you have to respect power…and in those times, the Dark Lord was powerful."
The blond boy licked his lips. "They were…dark times, maybe, but when the choice is between fighting and dying or living in the shadows…well, you know what a cunning person does, right? It's not like…the Dark Lord would have remained in power forever anyway. My father said that even among the people on his side willingly, many kept an eye out for a sign of weakness to use in their favour."
"That's a heavy conversation for your first dinner at Hogwarts, Mister Malfoy," the mellifluous voice of an old dark eyed man with black hair made Draco and Harry freeze. "Mister Potter, I hope you prove yourself more befitting of Slytherin than your parents were of Gryffindor," Severus Snape hissed. "But I will explain more in the common room. Now eat, and be quiet about things you do not understand."
The man then returned to his seat at the head of the table.
"That's Professor Snape, our head of the house," a female voice whispered. "Way to go, Draco!" she hissed furiously.
"Harry, meet Pansy," Draco drawled out, gesturing towards the minute girl with brown hair and dark eyes. Her hair was in a bowel-cut form. "My unfortunate acquaintance," he grumbled.
"It's Lady Parkinson," Pansy said, stiffening her back up and putting up a charming smile. "Enchanté to meet you, Mister Potter."
"Just nod and let her speak," Draco whispered with a hopeful suggestion. "Maybe she'll find you interesting and stop harassing me with make-belief games."
"You're not dropping her on my back," Harry retorted, while trying a nervous smile. "My pleasure…fair lady? Draco here spoke a lot about you on the train ride here." He tried his most convincing poker face.
"Oh, really? And what did he say about me?" Pansy smiled.
Draco paled. "Harry, my friend, dear, dear friend…don't."
Harry's mouth opened as if to speak, but then he refrained. "Sorry, but I cannot divulge such information. There is one such thing as a strong friendship bond between us, and thus I cannot reveal anything…but he said flattering things about you more often than not."
"Uh," Pansy narrowed her eyes. "Very well," she sniffed haughtily. "I will accept such an answer," she gave a sour look towards Draco, "For the time being."
Harry's fork and knife worked on the dinner's roast and sweet potatoes with gusto —it was much better than the Dursleys' dinner scraps.
After dinner, Harry followed quietly in the line of Slytherins that seemed to head down towards the dungeons of the castle. The dormitory of the common room of the house was accessible through a secret wall, which apparently slid aside only after pronouncing a passphrase.
"The password for this year is 'Merlin'," a prefect said as the wall slid aside to let them in. "In honour of one of the many illustrious students of Hogwarts who belonged to our house," the girl said primly, her chest swelling up with pride. "And one day, it might be your name another prefect will use to slid open this door. Who knows," once the last student entered, the wall closed with a simple click behind them.
"Now, first years, I know you're tired and probably wish to go to bed, but there are some things that need to be told, and they are important," the prefect coughed lightly. "First of all, my name is Gemma Farley, and I am one of the prefects and I'm a fifth year. Now, are there any muggleborn students among you?" she asked, her voice light.
Nobody answered.
"Ah, well, I'm going to go ahead and think there are anyway, and that they're just scared witless…you don't have to worry," she continued, "Slytherin House isn't centred on blood purity any more than Ravenclaw is centred on drinking tea in the afternoon. If you're in Slytherin, it means you have the drive, the ambition and the cunningness to realize your dreams. They might be childish ideas of becoming Prime Minister, or you might have an ambition worthy of note," she continued, "But the thing a lot of people neglect to mention, when speaking about Slytherin, is that we are united. We always give the same front. We always give the same version. Come high water or low tide, we stick together."
She gave a pointed look to the first years. "I'm not saying you won't fight or scuffle against one another over trivial matters like girls you like or your favourite chaser. If anything, I expect you to begin verbal spars on which politician is best suited for the next term of government within the end of the year. That said however, there is a strict rule that will always result in a grievous punishment should you infringe it, and that I want you all to memorize by heart: no wands. If you take out your wand to attack a fellow Slytherin, I can guarantee you that the consequences will not be pleasant at all."
She snorted. "We're Slytherin. We do not attack someone we can convince. I expect cunningness, ambition, determination…and self-preservation instincts," the girl smiled briefly. "I'll tell you a little story, so you'll understand what is expected from you. A group of Slytherin went out for a stroll in the middle of the night once, and encountered a troll," she began, "The next morning, they went to their lessons as if nothing had ever happened. Do you know why?"
There was silence.
"Because Slytherins aren't stupid idiots who go outside for a stroll in the middle of the night," she finished. "So I will take points from whoever has the bright idea of going outside in the middle of the night. If you feel peckish…hold it in. If you have a problem…talk it over with one of us. We have a strict no bully policy. If your problem is of a different nature and concerns another house, talk with our head of the house. You'll see him in Potions anyway."
She gave them all a glare. "Of course, it's not like I'm expecting you all to act as if you were chummy friends since birth and go around smiling and delivering daisies. You can have your divergences…just have them where no one who isn't a Slytherin can see them. You will have the respect of other students, even if a bit mixed with fear. And don't try to open the windows. I don't know why nobody realizes it…" she pointed at the far end of the wall, where murky black windows stood by.
"That's the lake. Do you hear me? The. Lake. The windows do not have some powerful invisible wall to let you touch the lake's surface. If you open the windows, we have to waste time closing them and drying off everything in the common room. Yes, they're magical. Yes, they can withstand the pressure. No, I don't know who had the brilliant idea of making the windows in such a way. Finally, yes, it's highly possible you will see the Giant Squid swoosh by. Do us all a favour, and don't tap on the glass. The creature likes the attention, and it scares the hell out of people when it places a giant eye at the window."
Nobody said a word.
"The really last thing, then I'll let you little snakes go to bed. Watch out for one another. Ravenclaws fight over grades, Gryffindors have the tact of an elephant and Hufflepuffs are a bit dense…but we snakes stand together."
There were quiet nods, as all the first years held a thoughtful expression. "Off you go then, boys to the right and girls to the left," she said. "You're too young for this, but know that you can't go in each other's dormitories unless you're a prefect. You won't like what happens if you try."
With those final words, the group split. Harry was just about to follow when the male prefect, who had spoken to him at dinner, came forth.
"Potter," the prefect brought up his right hand for a shake. Harry awkwardly shook it. He wasn't used to being treated like this. Draco gave a quick glance from him to the boy, before hurrying along towards the dormitory. It probably meant it was nothing worth worrying over.
"Ryan Westrup," the prefect said. He had low sunken blue eyes and a bedraggled appearance. He actually looked a bit on the sick side, his skin pale and his hair a dark brown. "Have you given any thought about running for ministry?"
Harry blinked.
"What?"
"Ryan," Gemma muttered. "You can't be serious. He's eleven. Come on."
"I'm saying he's eleven now," Ryan grumbled back, "But he has enough hype for being the Boy-Who-Lived to make it a possibility. I'm simply claiming dibs," he shrugged. "You ever need something, feel free to ask me," the boy continued.
"Well," Gemma said as she watched her colleague walk away. "That's what you should expect for a while, Potter," the girl curled a lock of her hair with her index finger. "Everyone in here will want to be your friend soon enough."
"Oh," he said in surprise, "Isn't that good?"
Gemma giggled. "Yes, I think that's very good. Maybe one day they'll open that wall with your name. Remember: don't be shy. If you need anything, you can ask me too. Now off to bed. Tomorrow is going to be a trying day."
"Good…night?" Harry hazarded as he quickly scampered off towards the dormitory. He found his room and stepped inside quietly. He shared it with Draco, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe.
"My name is Vincent," the first thing Harry realized, was that nobody was sleeping. The second was that there was a meaty hand thrust forward in front of his face. "And this here is Gregory," he continued, pointing towards the second bulky boy who held a sort-of demented grin on his face.
They both were easily twice his size.
"I'm Harry," he said hesitantly, before clasping the offered hand. "I hope we can all be friends?" he added then softly.
"I like making friends," Gregory said, while Vincent just gave him a raised eyebrow look.
"Sure. It's what my Dad says," Vincent shrugged, "Make friends with everyone in your House! You can't afford to have enemies where you sleep."
"Uh-uh," Gregory nodded firmly. "I'm Gregory," the other boy extended his own hand. Harry shook that one too.
He actually felt happy now. Everyone wanted to be a friend or help him out. Maybe he had really chosen the best place…and it was so different from being with the Dursley. He crawled under his bed sheets, plopped his head down against the soft pillows and fell asleep surrounded by green, silver, and the soothing sound of the waves.
He had to remember not to open the window.
Author's notes.
One thing irked me. It was an itch.
You know, the Houses are so great and all but…the wizards inside act like they aren't really meant for them. Then Pottermore comes off with Slytherin actually not being blood-purity related and…the itch becomes bigger.
This isn't a Slytherin-Harry centred story. It's not actually the focus.
The Focus is: What would happen if every character acted the way their Houses would expect them to?
Case in point: Draco wouldn't be a twerp. Goyle and Gregory would have brains. Ron wouldn't be a jealous person. Hermione wouldn't be afraid to kick Ron in the balls sometimes. Neville would have courage. Dumbledore would be a bit whackier. Ravenclaws would actually be the 'stay away from them' house.
Oh, and this isn't a 'Slytherin is good, bash the rest' story. This is a 'Let the House-motifs go to the play…what the hell happens afterwards?'
The House Traits are as follow:
Ravenclaw: Intelligence-Wit-Wisdom-Creativity-Originality-Ind ividuality
Gryffindor: Bravery-Nerve-Chivalry-Courage-Daring
Hufflepuff: Dedication-Hard Work-Fair play-Patience-Kindness-Tolerance-Unafraid of Toil
Slytherin: Traditionalism-Resourcefulness-Cunning-Ambition-Le adership qualities-Self-Preservation-Determination-Cleverne ss-Fraternity-Power
(Taken from the Wiki. Dunno why Slytherin has so many)
'Why didn't you start at the beginning?'
'Because nobody cares about a canon-copy of the beginning with a simply more affable Draco Malfoy…and frankly, we all know how things go at the start. It's how they diverge that is important.'