Chapter Three

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I flinched as I sat on the stool with that Hat on my head.

Please, I found myself begging. Please not Slytherin.

The hat scoffed (it actually scoffed) and said, Who do you think you are, a Potter?

"Slytherin!" It screeched, and there was not a flicker of surprise from any student in the Great Hall that a Malfoy was in Slytherin. I arranged my features to betray nothing, though I was furious. Slytherin? I had done my best to be polite, to be kind to people, to be so utterly unSlytherin, but of course it was all in vain. Why should I have expected anything else; Malfoys don't deserve second chances.

I took my place at the Slytherin table, and I was met with a few rather cold expressions. I did not blame them. While their parents had battled alongside the Dark Lord, my father had abandoned him in his final hour. Surprisingly, though, there were a few genuine smiles to greet me as I looked around. I tentatively returned them and looked to the front of the hall. Several more students were sorted: Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor. And then there was the boy from the train.

"Albus Severus Potter," the sinister woman announced, and he stepped toward the stool nervously. Perhaps it was just his fidgety nature shining through. That Hat was placed on his head and the Gryffindors had huge, knowing smiles plastered on their faces, hands poised to clap. Albus Severus continued to sit upon the stool; a likely Gryffindor to be whose likelihood was diminishing by the second. A moment before anyone had an aneurysm due to poorly restrained glee; the Hat shouted "Slytherin!" and someone at the Hufflepuff table slumped over in a dead faint with nothing but a thump to acknowledge it. There was a smattering of applause from the Slytherin table before all was silent again.

"A Potter in Slytherin?" A voice carried across the hall. "Harry Potter's son?"

A storm of conversation followed the comment as well as Albus Severus, himself, as he sat down beside me.

"Hello," he said quietly, leg twitching. The students beside us shot him incredulous glances, barely trying to conceal it.

"Hello," I replied, watching the rest of the children in our year get sorted; they deserved some attention.

When the last student had been sorted and met with distracted clapping, a woman rose from the teacher's table and the room fell completely silent. She was thin, tall and had a stern air about her. The word 'pointed' sprang to mind.

"And so we begin," she declared with a brisk tone and accent. "I am Professor McGonagall and I am the current headmistress here at Hogwarts. Hopefully, I will not being seeing you too often" –here she singled out several students in a way that would have been called mocking if she had not been the one to do it- "in which case, we will get along well enough. Most of the rules here should be common sense, but for the ones that might not be, they are posted in your house common rooms." Her crisp manner truly was something to be admired, I decided.

Albus Severus turned to me and whispered quickly, "I'm sorry, but I can't remember your name! What is it?"

His large green eyes blinked at me curiously and I was reminded disturbingly of a young canine begging for scraps. I told him and he paused for a moment, trying to recall my surname and why it likely sounded familiar. I noted the shock on his face and how openly he displayed it. I was aware that, as a Potter, he might not want anything to do with me, but, as a Slytherin, he would be forced to. I did not want him attempting to befriend me without knowing what he would be getting into.

Food appeared in front of us and I realized that Professor McGonagall had finished her speech. Voices roared around us and conversation started up again.

"Isn't the roof amazing? How do they make it do that? I hope that's the sort of magic we'll be learning…" He trailed off before gazing at me fearfully. "What if I can't do it? Will they expel me? Will they tell my parents?"

I cleared my throat while filling my plate, "I'm sure you'll be-"

"I don't know what this is," he interrupted, peering at a plate of food with intent.

"Vegetables?" I responded feebly.

The conversation continued in such a manner until dessert ("It's so sweet! I really like this dish; I could eat it all the time! What is it?") which was not nearly as lengthy as the main course. I found that I needn't interrupt his flow of thought for he would continue regardless of whether or not I intervened.

The strangest thing, though, was that I could not help but find it… endearing. The thought disoriented me, but I pushed it aside.

We were soon directed to the Slytherin dorms, down in the dungeons, where no natural light could find its way without the help of explosives. Albus Severus grew oddly silent and even twitchier than before in the darkness of the corridors.

"Staphylococcus," a prefect told the Old Crone's portrait. She cackled and moved the portrait aside. Albus Severus shivered and drew closer to me. I had not been aware that I was a comforting life form, but Albus Severus seemed to think otherwise.