Chapter Three

It was more pleasant inside, less like an office block. They were led by a curvy blonde (who introduced herself as Professor Malkim) into a place that reminded Harry so much of the Great Hall that he almost expected the familiar long white beard of Dumbledore waiting up high for them.

Instead he saw a poker face and a close, sharp haircut that screamed STRICT in capitals.

'Her name's Professor Trix,' Hermione muttered along the line of the seventh years – Harry knew it was her because it always was. He wouldn't have had it any other way. 'She's been Headmistress for about forty years and everyone hates her. She monologues like a Shakespearian actor and she's basically unbearable.'

'She sounds like a laugh,' Seamus hissed.

Hermione laughed bitterly. 'After what happened last year she'll probably seem as tame as a freakin' pussycat.'

But Harry did literally get a shiver down his spine when Trix announced in a tinny, pitchy voice like nails on a chalkboard: 'Welcome new students. While you're here I expect you to behave impeccably and work extremely hard. And I don't care' – her stony eyes settled on Harry's head; he could feel her cold gaze from halfway across the room – 'how many Dark Wizards you killed last year. You are my students and you will behave as such.'

Harry felt heat paint his cheeks bright red as everyone turned to stare shamelessly at him. His friends glared daggers at Trix on his behalf and Luna Lovegood said loudly 'Harry Potter is a better person than you will ever be. There is no need to stare at him.'

Harry could have throttled her; he knew she meant well but now the eyes on him were full of malice and cruel laughter. It started out as a low murmur but within minutes the sound of it filled the entire enormous room.

'Silence!' Trix bellowed. 'There is no need to point at him, you will only encourage the feeling of speciality.' Her lip curled on the word and Harry felt a strong desire to throw something at her. It looked like, despite his best efforts, he was going to wind up on as bad terms with his new head as he had been with Professor Snape.

Harry's stomach twisted in on itself. Snape had loved Lily. Snape had loved his mother. What if he had married her? What if Harry had got his greasy hair and the house of Slytherin?

Harry looked at the Slytherins. None of them differed enormously in looks or indeed style to those leather-clad thugs outside. The Ravenclaws were neatly pressed and looked like they'd just come out of the dishwasher. The Hufflepuffs were loud-voiced and quiff-haired and appeared to have never worried a day in their life. And the Gryffindors, Harry was pleased to see, were slightly scruffy around the edges but looked like a good bunch to be with. Harry thanked his lucky stars for perhaps the millionth time in his life that the Sorting Hat had changed his mind about Slytherin.

Food appeared on the polished bronze plates before them and they tucked in. The fare wasn't as good as Hogwarts but Harry suspected the house elves weren't treated nearly as well. Trix didn't look like that sort of person.

Subconsciously, Harry patted down his fringe where it had gone into disarray after Hermione had fixed it. Ginny had always brushed it off his face when they were together but he rather liked it hanging over his eyes. After all if he truly hadn't liked it there he would have had it cut long ago.

When dinner was done (Harry hadn't eaten much: hard to break that habit of a grieving household) Trix clapped her hands and everything vanished, just as at Hogwarts.

Then Trix's face grew serious. 'I am aware that many of the new students underwent a lot of bad things last year. Our resident therapist, Professor Stip is always willing to hear you. Now, about dormitory placings…also in light of what happened last year when the Slytherins were, I'm told, quite severely prejudiced against…'

McGonagall's precise words, Harry remembered with a smirk, were 'the dungeons would do'.

'So to combat that I'd like houses to be more accepting of them this year. That is why I am mixing up the houses in dorms. Everyone will have at least one member of Slytherin!'

Outrage swept through the room like the bolt of lightning on Harry's head. The Slytherins moaned, the Ravenclaws sighed, the Hufflepuffs groaned – and Gryffindor got their feet and booed the Slytherins.

'Enough!' Trix screamed. 'File out. You will be shown to your dorms.'

The students stormed out of the room, nearly suffocating a timid-looking teacher holding a clipboard. 'Er…line up everyone while I tell you your numbers…no pushing please…'

As Harry had feared, when he finally got the head of the line the teacher looked positively terrified. 'Harry Potter…my boy I must thank you…'

'Don't bother,' Harry replied bitterly. 'I can quote you. You look exactly like your father but you have your mother's eyes. My number?'

The professor cowered and eventually stuttered 'S-s-seventy seven.'

'Thank you,' was the blunt retort.

Harry marched past him into the now overflowing corridors – and Ron and Hermione nabbed him.

'Gerrof!'

'Harry, relax!' Hermione exclaimed. 'Jeez, last year made you paranoid didn't it? What's your dorm number?'

'Seventy-seven.'

Ron's face fell. 'Eight.'

Harry sighed. 'Figures. Guess I'll see you guys around.'

'Be careful Harry!' he heard Luna's voice shout from somewhere within the crowd. 'You're quite accident prone you know.'