An Unraveling
Unconventional cages
There were graphs of student progress (firsties were called Zeros simply due to the fact that they had no progress to begin with), and lists. Class lists, chore lists, lists of "ministry sanctioned activities" that were so detailed that there was a category for "talking". And, obscene as it might be, right under "talking" lay a subcategory to list with whom you spoke to and what about.
"Your pen will be your best friend here! Never be without it!" Cheered the headmaster, trying to fill the resounding silence with sheer gusto. And, perhaps, had it been a kinder quiet, he might have been able to. No one clapped, no one dared whisper. After all, this was a representative of the ministry of magic speaking. And to those who didn't know better, the worldly interceded. Kicking their less than knowledgeable brethren under the table to uphold order.
Oblivious to the spot of goblet hopping going on at every table (and one loud "ouch, jeeze!" from an unfortunate Weasley amongst the Gryffindors) as he was very year, the headmaster began to extol the virtue of the pen. And yes, while it was mightier than the sword and yes, the Ravenclaws loved pens, it went from informative to dull in moments.
After a few moments it passed from dull to depressing, and amongst the crush, those few with vision felt their hearts quicken. They shivered as they felt bars of parchment, locks of ink, steal about them and close a little tighter.
This madness wasn't run by Umbridge thank Merlin for small miracles, but a short squat man with greasy brown hair who could have been Fudge's brother.
Sadly, by next day after "orientation" Albus would know that headmaster Orwens wasn't Fudge's brother, but his cousin twice removed. Clearly diversifying the gene pool hadn't helped the looks any. Not that he was so bold to say it… but there were some seventh years…
No, not seventh years (or seventies per Ministry sanctioned terminology) but Vipers. Vipers were seventh years; sixth to third were called Snakes, second and first years Snakelings.
Such were the learning's hissed in the bedroom, between bunks from those with sibs who'd "been around" and those with none. Before patrol, from their starting circuit from the uppermost level to the lowest, the Headboy poked his head into each dorm. Between greetings and introductions looks were shared, hands were offered and shakes complete.
"Samuel Silverbane," the Headboy murmured. His school sanctioned badge glinting green and silver in the murky light of the dungeons. The boy was tall, lanky, his frame accented by the long robes that dripped from his long arms. Slytherin greens did not compliment his pasty skin and black ringed eyes. Still the older Slytherin tried a smile, pulling off a grimace by accident. That shaky quirk of the lips was more genuine than any smile Albus had seen since getting here.
Pulling the younger boy close, the Viper embraced the startled Snakeling.
Certainly this wasn't a move for publicity! Albus cringed at that thought, cringed at the weak grip… He could have squirmed and the hold would have broke… and (horrid thought) was that a palsy he felt about the other's arms? But the grip was there, than gone. An embrace which the boy used to hide how he leaned close, lips scarcely moving, he breathed into the younger man's mop of mess black hair. "House meeting, unofficial, midnight," than pulled away, but not before a meaningful look and a nod beyond Albus.
"Welcome to Slytherin, Mr. Potter." The boy noted in a droll tone that recalled tales of other Slytherin's, none of them welcome or safe to tell considering the company he kept.
Or the serpent badge over his heart.
"Th.. thank you…" Albus dropped his gaze, contemplated the grey stones at his feet.
"You'll find a home here, with us, never doubt." An arm crossed the distance between Viper and Snakeling, a twitching hand steeled over the younger's shoulder for a moment before breaking away with an effort that might have been a squeeze. That touch made Albus raise his head, meet those pale blue eyes one last time.
Only to find they weren't focused on him. They were looking about, counting heads and the like.
"Seven zeroes, four boys three girls." He voice was cool, forbidding, the difference between now and before made the young Potter flinch though the hand still lingered on him, and caused the others to wince (and one vocal Snake to hiss), as if in pain. Those watery eyes narrowed in warning. "Get points; serve the Slytherin name by making us look good, do this in your name, in the Ministry's, and you'll make us proud."
The clip of shoes, of boots upon stones, close but coming closer underscored the Viper's warning, made the grim glitter about those eyes something… more. The door opened with a creek, combine that with the algae tinged illumination and surely all the half bloods about were surely thinking of horror flicks seen upon the telly. A man in green robes with the ministry sigil stamped over (and nicely obscuring) Salazar's familiar serpent poked his stubby nose in. Suffice to say, shortly following his nose was a long face that seemed to ooze blubber from all its lines but was unable to fully blur the edges.
"Mr. Silverbane," The man offered, his voice so monotone surely he screamed in a single octave. "What is the meaning of this unauthorized gathering here?"
Snakelings looked to each other, than to adult intruder and to their nearly adult guild.
"Pre-Orientation preparation, sir!" The young man clicked his heels, "just getting the little zeros settled in for the night sir!"
"Very good, but as their head of house it's my duty to oversee this matter."
Yet despite saying so, the tall rounded man lingered in the door way. Clearly not intent to oversee anything save Samuel's departure.
Head of house? Outrage dovetailed with something bitter and sharp, something like despair. Snape in all his evil Death Eater glory would have been better than this walking bore! Albus could have groaned. Someone in the back surely did, and that incriminating sound turned into a grunt as someone a mite sharper than their peers stepped in. Literally.
"Pro… Professor?" One of the students forms the back queried. "You're our head of hou-"
"Professor?" The man snorted. It wasn't a pretty sound and had more than a ghost of an oink to it. "Hardly! I'm an Assistant Subdivision Manager to Human Resources Child Wizardry Division."
You could hear the capitals in the man's inflection. There were no groans now, only a spattering of bewildered looks as the boy's met each other's gazes then stared at their bored looking Head of House.
"Yes, mhmm impressed are we?" The man puffed out, an impressive feat in itself considering the girth that swaddled his frame. "Comport yourself properly gentlemen and you'll be as important as I am one day!"
From the back, came a hissed. "I wonder if my Great God Uncle Sev has any poison left in the old Potion's classroom…"
No foot came down to shut the discontented soul up, but the middle aged wizard, with this greasy blonde hair straggling into his ears, didn't hear. Pebbly brown eyes combed over the gathering of half blood and full blood wizards and nodded in approval.
"They look settled to me."
Watery eyes considered them as the Head Boy nodded. "Yes sir."
"You'll get your lists in the morning, and a never break quill in green." The Head of House yawned, clearly boring himself with his own voice. "That'll be all. Come along Mr. Silverbane, patrol waits for no one."
With a grunt Mr. Silverbane obliged.