September 1st 1991
Harry had been disappointed to discover, as he stood waiting for his lift to Kings Cross station on his first day at school, that Snape was not going to be accompanying him. Instead the great man-giant had reappeared, giving him a greeting slap on the back that took his breath away.
At least, he thought, as they sped up the A3 into London, he got to ride a motorbike.
Trees whipped past, shifting into the low buildings of suburban London and eventually into the mixture of grand Victorian houses and modern skyscrapers that dominated Battersea.
"I was sorry ter miss your first visit ter Diagon Alley, 'Arry." Hagrid shouted over his shoulder. "I'm sure Professor Snape told you, but I 'ad ter go away on 'Ogwarts business." Harry didn't bother responding, his eyes fixed on the glittering water of the Thames as they crossed over Chelsea Bridge.
Before long they were pulling up outside Kings Cross Station, and Hagrid was soon unshrinking Harry's luggage with a garishly pink umbrella. "I'd appreciate it, 'Arry, if you didn't tell anyone about this. I'm not supposed ter be doing magic yeh see." Harry nodded, his attention elsewhere. Snape had told him most wizards were awful at blending with muggles, and you could spot them from a mile away. Looking around, it was clear wizards were either not so bad at dressing as muggles as Snape had made out, or there simply weren't any about. He let out a disappointed huff of air, ruffling his eye-length fringe.
"Well, 'Arry, I'm afraid I can't come in with yeh. I've got a meeting with a man in the Leaky Cauldron in ten minutes, but here's yer ticket. I'm sure you'll find yer way." Harry took the ticket without looking up, examining it carefully. Platform 9 ¾ ? Surely that couldn't be right! He looked up to ask Hagrid only to discover the man had already disappeared.
Feeling exasperated, and a little more worried than he'd care to admit, he flattened his hair over his forehead and made his way into the station, desperately hoping he'd be able to find some wizards to help him. He didn't bother asking a station guard, having enough life-experience to know he'd just be laughed off. Platform nine and three quarters indeed.
"—packed with muggles, of course—"
Harry swung round. The speaker was a plump woman who appeared to be in her early thirties, accompanied by two red headed children. Feeling hopeful, he dragged his trunk off after them, only to stop a safe distance away as they stopped between the barriers of platforms nine and ten.
"Mum, can't I go?"
"You know you're not old enough yet Ginny. Next year. All right, Ron, off you go. Try to find the others – they must have already gone on ahead." The boy pushed his trolley forward, only – to Harry's shock - hurtle himself at the wall. However, instead of the noisy crash Harry had been expecting, he simply disappeared. Harry's eyes narrowed – where had he gone? Seeing the plump woman was about to follow her son he ran forward to get her attention.
"Excuse me!"
The woman's head whipped around over her shoulder, before smiling down at him in a motherly manner. "Hello dear, what's your name?"
Harry hesitated for a moment, remembering Snape's words about his fame. "Arnold Bennett."
"Ah." The woman suddenly seemed a little less warm, and Harry mentally swallowed – had he done the wrong thing? "Hogwarts too?"
He nodded quickly. "Yes, I just wanted to ask – I'm not sure how to get onto the platform."
"All you have to do dear is walk straight at that barrier without stopping. If you're nervous, you'd best do it at a bit of a run." And with that the woman trotted off through the barrier, the youngest child perched on her luggage trolley, peering back at him curiously.
Gritting his teeth, Harry followed, speeding up as he felt himself getting nervous at the barrier's ever-closer proximity. Five feet; two feet; a foot—A huge scarlet train was in front of him, pumping a stream of white smoke and with Hogwarts Express written across its side in gold lettering. He was through.
Allowing a triumphant grin to spread across his face at his success, he began to tug his case down the platform. There were animals everywhere, screeching and hooting as students hugged their family's goodbye, and friends dove through crowds to greet each other. Reaching the third carriage, Harry began to try and heave his trunk in, without much success.
"Need a hand?" Harry looked up to see a burly boy in black robes towering over him, giving him a toothy grin. Feeling a little wary of this stranger, but knowing he really did need help, Harry acquiesced.
"Thanks." The older boy lifted the trunk onto the train effortlessly, before looking back over him.
"The name's Flint. Marcus Flint. And you?"
Harry hesitated for a moment, before replying. "Harry. Harry Potter." He noticed a little uneasily how the other boy's eyes flashed, before his grin widened.
"Remember, Potter. You owe me one." The older boy swung around and disappeared back off onto the platform. Heart thumping a little, and a little disturbed, Harry wandered down the carriage, relieved to find an empty compartment at the back.
He couldn't contain a groan as he realised the luggage rack was several feet above his head, and he had no hope of reaching it. Reaching for his wand, he decided to try one of the spells he'd read about. He had heeded Snape's advice, and read some of his textbooks, although he hadn't got round to Hogwarts: A History. He had also admittedly skimmed the last few chapters of One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi. There were only so many 'Campanula's' and 'Verbascum's' a boy could take.
"Wingardium Leviosa." He frowned nothing happened. What had he done wrong? Ah! Of course – pronunciation: "Wingardium Leviosa." This time the trunk began to rise from the ground, and Harry could have laughed as he directed it onto the luggage rack neatly with his wand. It had been a pain in the arse as it had been to slog through eight heavy-duty textbooks in just four weeks, and he was glad that it was proving to be useful.
Just as he settled down next to the window, the compartment door banging open startled him.
"And who are on earth are you?" A blonde boy with a pale pointed face was standing in the doorway, flanked on either side by two much bulkier teens. When Harry didn't reply, his eyes narrowed. "Everyone knows the third carriage is reserved for Slytherins. This is our compartment."
Harry wrinkled his nose. "What's a Slytherin?"
"Dear god." A look of horror spread across the blonde boy's face. "Tell me you aren't a mudblood."
"A what?"
The other boy was beginning to look panicked. "Your name. What is it?"
Knowing there was no point in lying, and remembering the redheaded woman's earlier lukewarm response to him, he sighed wearily. "Harry. Harry Potter."
The blonde boys eyes widened, before his posture relaxed and a cat-like grin spread across his small face. "Oh?" He sprawled languidly across the seat opposite Harry, before turning to his cronies. "Crabbe, Goyle, man the door." Harry watched with interest as they obeyed, and if the blonde boy's widening grin was anything to go by, he noticed. "I'm Draco. The Malfoy heir."
Harry looked at him blankly, and Draco's smile dropped a little. "You really don't know anything at all, do you?"
Harry glowered, and the blonde boy cocked his head.
"If you'd like, Harry, I could help you find your way around, so to speak."
Harry's face conveyed his suspicion. "You weren't interested in me until you learned my name. If it had been Harry Smith you wouldn't be interested. Why should I trust you?"
Draco sighed, examining his nails. "The fact remains, Harry, that your name is Harry Potter and not Harry Smith." The blonde boy looked at him in an assessing manner for a moment, before leaning forward. "I'm getting the impression you're someone who appreciates bluntness, so I'll lay it out clearly for you. You're famous. And supposedly very powerful. Being friends with you makes me look good. From what you've said so far, it's pretty clear you know virtually nothing about our world—"
"I've read the textbooks!" Harry said indignantly, but Draco only rolled his eyes.
"You don't even know what Slytherin is, Potter. You may know a spell or two but it's pretty clear you've no idea what you're really letting yourself in for - socially. Being friends with me means that you learn quickly. Trust me, Potter, there's no one on this train who knows more about the wizarding world than me," Although Harry was listening intently, he had to restrain himself from rolling his eyes at the other boy's arrogance. "So, from where I'm looking, a friendship of sorts can only be mutually beneficial." Draco leaned back again, smirking at him as he crossed his arms.
As much as Harry wasn't sure he liked this boy, and as weird as it felt to be negotiating friendship, the memory of his encounter with Flint forced him to concede Draco did have a point. He hadn't even reached the school yet, and he'd already incurred some sort of dubious debt.
"So, Potter?" The blonde boy extended his hand, and whilst it was done with an arrogant sort of swagger than made Harry want to refuse, he could sense a slight feeling of vulnerability about the motion. It was clear that, if he refused, it would be taken as a personal affront. After a moment of reluctant hesitation, he took it.
Malfoy looked almost surprised, before his smirk seemed to shift into something of a slightly more genuine smile. "Right choice, Potter."
Feeling a little reassured, Harry ventured something of a smile back.
The train started to move, but before Harry could start to ask about Hogwarts the compartment door swung open one more, and one of the louts who'd been flanking Draco earlier stuck his head in. "It's Zabini and Nott. Should I let them in?" Draco nodded, waving his hand offhandedly, and the door was pushed back. The first boy who entered was tall and pale, with a shock of dark brown hair rather like Harry's, and a long, thin nose. A slightly shorter, olive-skinned boy followed, whose neatly combed black hair framed an uncommonly attractive face.
"Nott, Zabini. This is Harry Potter." Draco's chest puffed out a little proudly when he said his name, and Harry bit his lip to prevent a smile. The other boys shot him a slightly disbelieving look, and to avoid any further conversation concerning his identity Harry pushed his hair back from his forehead to reveal his scar. He noted the slightly impressed looks on their faces.
"Who would have thought? Harry Potter in the Slytherin carriage!" The smaller boy grinned, and Harry didn't bother to mention he hadn't actually known some of the compartments were 'reserved'. "I'm Blaise Zabini." The boy held out his hand, and Harry shook it firmly.
"I'm Theodore, Theodore Nott, but I prefer just Theo." The taller boy spoke more seriously than the first, and didn't offer his hand, instead sitting down next to Draco. Blaise flopped down next to Harry less reservedly, and a little closer than Harry felt completely comfortable with.
"So, Harry, am I to take it that you're hoping for Slytherin?" Blaise's smile was charming, and, still having no idea what Slytherin was, Harry hesitated to reply.
Draco sighed, eyeing Blaise with a superior eye. "Harry" - Draco emphasized his use of Harry-s first name - "doesn't know about the houses, yet." Blaise's eyes widened a little, before he grinned slyly.
"I suppose you've offered to tell him?"
Malfoy smirked back. "Of course. As the Malfoy heir my knowledge is superior to all—"
"And not at all partisan." Blaise winked at Harry, who smiled back, trying to conceal the embarrassing fact that he had no idea what 'partisan' meant. Draco glowered.
In both an effort to break the slightly tense silence and actually find out what Slytherin was, Harry finally spoke up. "So, Slytherin is a school house?"
Draco raised his chin, and Harry had the feeling he was about to receive a very long lecture. "Slytherin is not just a school house, Potter, it's a philosophy…"
"I would like to welcome you all to Hogwarts."
The first years, having been led from the train to the school by Hagrid, were crowded in the entrance chamber of the school, in front of a tall, black haired witch with a lightly lined, stern face.
"I am Professor McGonagall, the head of Gryffindor House."
Harry noticed Draco's top lip lift into a sneer. Harry couldn't help but note she didn't exactly fit the description of Gryffindors that had been given to him on the train. She was definitely not brawny, nor did she seem very brash. Clearly the knowledge his new 'friends' had imparted was to be taken with a pinch of salt.
"The start-of term banquet will begin shortly. However before you join your fellow pupils at the house tables, you must be sorted. For the duration of education at Hogwarts, your house will be your home. You will eat with your housemates; sleep with your housemates-" there were a couple of boyish giggles at that, which the woman quieted with a hard stare, "-and have classes with your housemates. Throughout the year your achievements will win you points for your house, but any misbehaviour will lose them. At the end of the year the house with the greatest number of points will receive the honour of winning the house cup." She surveyed the students; her eyes hovering over a couple of the more scruffily dressed. "I suggest you all do your best to smarten yourselves up, and then we shall proceed into the hall."
There was a small flurry of movement as the students groomed themselves, dusting off robes and neatening hair. Harry stood next to Draco, a little bored. He'd preened and prepped on the train, along with his new companions, and had no need to neaten himself up further. He overheard the red haired boy he'd seen earlier exclaim something about a troll, and sensed Draco snort condescendingly next to him.
"Right, now, all of you form an orderly line, in pairs." Standing next to Draco, with Crabbe and Goyle behind him and Nott and Zabini in front, Harry entered the great hall of his new home for the first time. His new friends had informed him about the wonders of the hall, but nothing could have prepared him for the sight itself - thousands of candles hung in the open air over four long tables where the older students were sitting, lighting the hundreds of faces turned towards them like lanterns. There were silvery creatures that looked like ghosts hovering amongst the students, and most magnificently of all, when he looked up, he saw no ceiling but a velvety black night sky, littered with glittering stars.
They proceeded up to stand before the heads table, where the teachers sat in a long row, facing the room: he spotted both Quirrell and Snape. Professor McGonagall placed a small stool in the centre of the raised platform where the teachers sat, which had an old and battered looking hat perched on top of it.
For a short moment, the hall was silent, as Harry waited for what he knew the strange hat would do next. And, its brim opening wide, it did:
Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat then me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve and chivalry,
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true,
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
If you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin,
Where you'll meet your real friends,
Those cunning folk use any means,
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap."
The hall burst into applause and the hat fell silent. Professor McGonagall stepped forward once more with a small smile on her tight face, and looking down at a long list in her hand, started to read:
"Abbott, Hannah."
A slightly pudgy girl with a pair of blonde pigtails shuffled forward, and so the sorting began. Harry watched as his fellow first years were shipped off to different houses one by one, trying to crush the curls of nervousness in his belly. So far, Hufflepuff seemed to be the most common house, followed by Ravenclaw. The Slytherin numbers were low, although not quite so low as Gryffindor. He watched as Draco strutted over to the Slytherin table with a smirk, the hat having barely touched his head. Nott soon joined him, and before Harry knew it his name had been called. Whispers erupted across the hall.
"Did she just say Potter?"
"The Harry Potter? Mummy said he was coming this year—"
"He's tiny!"
The hat dropped was dropped onto his head, and it slipped down to cover his eyes. After a second, a small voice began to croon into his ear. "Hmm. You're a difficult one. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, and an intelligent mind, not to mention a desire to prove your worth. There's magical talent too, my goodness yes. Lucky boy. Ah, and a rather overpowering urge to find a place to call your own, that does make things interesting…Mmmmnnn, boy, you've not had a very pleasant childhood…still, you haven't forgot that pretty ring though have you?" Harry heard a tinkling laugh in his ear, and grimaced. "So where to put you, Harry Potter? Really you could go anywhere…no—I know. It seems to me that you'll do best in SLYTHERIN!" The last word was shouted loudly to the whole hall, incurring a shocked silence. However, as Professor McGonagall lifted the hat from his head, the other students seemed to gather themselves and the Slytherin table broke out into applause, led by a more than enthusiastic Draco Malfoy. Nevertheless, as he trotted over to join his friends from the train he couldn't help but notice the many shocked, occasionally slack-mouthed looks from the other pupils. Interesting. Harry Potter was obviously not expected to be a Slytherin.
As he sat down next to Draco, he caught the eye of the man sitting at the centre of the head table, in a rather gaudy golden chair. This must be the Headmaster – Albus Dumbledore. He looked very old, with a long, wispy white beard that disappeared under the table, and a pair of half-moon glasses perched upon the end of his nose. The man gave him a small smile, before quickly turning back to the sorting, which came to an end as Blaise was sorted into Slytherin.
Professor McGonagall briskly cleared away the stool and hat, took the seat to the left of Dumbledore, who then rose to address the hall, spreading his arms wide: "Welcome, welcome! Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry! Before we begin our feast, I would like to say a few words – Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!" The man sat back down, and laughter bubbled across the hall. Harry wrinkled his nose, and Theo looked thoroughly unimpressed.
"Ridiculous." The boy went back to reading a thick book he had produced from somewhere, only for Blaise to thump him on the arm.
"It's the welcoming feast Theodore. Save your books for tomorrow." Theo glared at his friend, but he did reluctantly comply.
With a pop, the table was suddenly heaving with food, and Harry felt his tummy rumble its approval. He had eaten a few sticks of liquorice on the train, but that had been hours ago, and suddenly he felt ravenously hungry. He piled a substantial amount of roast beef, yorkshire pudding and steamed vegetables onto his plate, and dug in.
"So, Harry Potter. Must be strange to be a Slytherin." Harry looked up to see a girl with an upturned nose and a neat, glossy black bob addressing him.
Swallowing his mouthful of food, he replied "Not particularly," and took a swig of the strange sweet juice in his goblet that tasted oddly like pumpkin.
"Everyone knows the Potters are Gryffindors, and notoriously light—"
"Then everyone knows more about them than I do." He grinned at her, and was pleased when, after a moment, she gave a small smile back, if a little haughtily. She reminded him a little of Draco.
"I'm Pansy Parkinson. This is Daphne Greengrass," she gestured to a pretty blonde girl sitting next to her, "Matilda Avery," a girl with a large nose and a mass of dark red hair nodded at him, "Hestia and Flora Carrow," Pansy pointed to two identical twins with ponytails, "And that's Tracey Davis." She spoke the last girl's name a little more coldly, but Harry supposed she was lucky to even be introduced; there was another quite overweight girl on the end who clearly didn't merit even that, sitting next to an unknown boy. It was unspoken, but it was obvious those two didn't have names that qualified them as at all interesting. As the others had told him on the train, such people would have to prove themselves before being accepted by the rest.
An hour later and the small group of Slytherin First Years had been led by their head of house, which Harry had been delighted to discover was Professor Snape, through a seemingly unending series of winding corridors down into the dark dungeons of the school. They had stopped outside what appeared to be a stone-filled archway.
"First of all, congratulations. You have all been sorted into Slytherin." Snape didn't smile, but to the first years standing before him his gaze felt approving. "To some of you, I am sure it is no less than you were expecting," Harry saw Blaise nudging Draco out of the corner of his eye, "For some of you, perhaps it comes as something more of a surprise," His gaze drifted over Harry for a moment, before landing on the two students who Harry had not yet been introduced to, standing together to the edge of the group. "However, I assure you all, that, if you can prove your worth," His gaze rested meaningfully of those same two students, "there is a home for you in Slytherin. We look after those who are truly our own."
With a flourish of his cloak, he turned to gesture to the wall behind him with a long fingered hand, "Some of the greatest wizards to have ever lived had passed through this archway. I advise you all to learn and respect the rich history of the house you have been chosen for. I can promise you all, that there will be consequences for those who don't." His face darkened, and the air around them seemed to freeze, the students shivering, before the temperature returned to normal. Harry felt himself go a little breathless at this display of blatantly potent magic, his eyes bright.
"As your head of house, I will be responsible for your welfare during your time at Hogwarts. If you have any questions, you will come to me. If you have any problems, you will come to me. I will not look favourably upon those who take any issues, particularly those concerning the house, elsewhere. For those of you less familiar with the history of the Hogwarts Houses, it is important that you understand the prejudices held against Slytherin, and thus the necessity to operate…self-sufficiently." His eyes skimmed over the pupils, conveying the seriousness of his words.
"As I am sure you are all tired, I will leave you the care of your prefects: Adrian Pucey and Winifred Tugwood. I trust you will all get a good night's sleep, so as to give the very best impression in your first lessons tomorrow." At this a tall, sharp looking boy with brown hair stepped forward from behind them, followed by a pretty girl with a long blonde plait. A meaningful look passed between the three, and then, with a last nod, Snape vanished around the corner, his black robes fluttering behind him.
"Good Evening, and welcome to our house." Winifred spoke with a cold, clear voice, Adrian leaning languidly against the arch behind her. "The Slytherin common room and dormitories lie behind this wall: to enter them you need a password. Remember it." They both turned to face the wall, and this time Adrian spoke, lowly and sibilantly.
"Potestas."
Harry watches, fascinated, as the stones began to fold away from the centre, revealing a dark, cold passage. It was reminiscent of his entrance into Diagon alley – except that, here, the prefects and the darkness of the passage conveyed a general sense of uncomfortable foreboding.
Led by Pucey and Tugwood, the first years wandered down into the gloom.
