Chapter 4
September 1st came, and Harry convinced his uncle to drive him to King's Cross. "Funny way of getting to your school," Uncle Vernon commented. "Thought you would be flying around on carpets."
The vulgar man left Harry at the entrance of the train station, driving off as soon as Harry finished unloading his luggage. Harry had to lift his things on a cart, thankfully a stranger ran to help him as he struggled with the heavier trunks and pushed it inside. Once in, he pulled out his Hogwarts letter from his pocket and pulled out his ticket that read, Hogwarts Express, Platform nine-and-three-quarters. He frowned and looked around. In big plastic signs, he could see the platform number, there was platform nine, and platform ten, however there was no platform nine-and-three-quarters. Harry looked at a nearby clock to see that it was ten-thirty, he had half an hour to find the Hogwarts Express before the train would leave without him!
He walked around the station a little desperately until he found a free guard, but he didn't dare mention platform nine-and-three-quarters. The guard has never heard of Hogwarts and when harry couldn't even tell him what part of the country it was in, he started to get annoyed, as though Harry was being stupid on purpose. Getting desperate, Harry asked for the train that left at eleven o'clock, but the guard said there wasn't one. In the end the guard strode away, muttering about time wasters. Harry was now trying very hard not to panic. According to the large clock over the arrival board, he had ten minutes left to get on the train to Hogwarts and he had no idea how to do it; he was stranded with a trunk he could hardly lift and pockets full of wizard money.
"—does this every year, packed with Muggles of course—"
Harry stopped and whirled around to see a group of people. The speaker was a plump woman who was talking to four boys, all with flaming red hair. Each of them pushing a trunk like Harry's in front of them—and one of them had an owl!
Heart hammering, Harry pushed the cart after them. "Come on, platform nine-and-three-quarters this way," the woman said.
"Mum! Can't I go?" a small girl who was holding the woman's hand piped.
"You're not old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. All right Percy, you first."
What looked like the oldest boy marched toward platform nine and ten. Harry watched, careful not to blink in case he missed it. The boy reached the dividing barrio between the two platforms and—he was gone! Harry didn't understand.
"Fred, you're next," the woman said.
"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, woman, and you call yourself our mother?"
"Oh, sorry George, dear."
"Only joking, I am Fred." The boy said, and he went off. His twin called after him to hurry up, and he must have done so, because a second later, he had gone—but how did he do it? Now the third brother was walking briskly toward the barrier—he was almost there—and then, quite suddenly, he wasn't anywhere.
"Excuse me," Harry said to the plump woman.
"Hello dear," she said. "First time at Hogwarts? Ron's new, too." She pointed to the last and youngest of her sons. He was tall, thin, and gangling, with freckles, big hands and feet, and a long noise.
"Yes," Harry said, "Only thing umm… I don't know how to get on the platform."
"Not to worry," she said kindly. "All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Best do it at a bit of a run if you're nervous."
Harry nodded and pushed his trolley around and stared at the barrier. It looked pretty solid. He started walking towards it. People jostled him on the way to platforms nine and ten. Harry walked more quickly. He was going to smash right into the barrier and then he'd be in trouble—leaning forward on his cart, he broke into a run—the barrier was coming closer and closer—he wouldn't be able to stop it now—the cart was out of control—he was a foot away—he closed his eyes ready for the impact—
It never came. He kept running. He opened his eyes.
A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to a platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Harry looked behind him and saw a wrought-iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words Platform Nine and Three-Quarters on it. He had done it.
Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Owls hooted to one another in a disgruntled sort of way over the babble and the scraping of heavy trunks. Harry made his way to the end of the train through the crowds. He somehow gotten his trunk onto it when he heard a voice behind him, "Harry!"
He turned around to see Blaise smiling at him. "Blaise!" the small boy said happily and he ran to his first and only friend, hugging him.
"How did you get here? Do you have a compartment yet?" Blaise asked.
"I asked my Uncle Vernon," Harry said. "He just left me here and left—I would never have found this station if it wasn't for this nice woman and her sons—they all go to Hogwarts!"
"That's good luck," Blaise smiled. "I snatched an empty compartment, why don't we sit together?"
"I'd like that," Harry smiled. Blaise took his hand and the boy allowed himself to be led onto the train and into an empty compartment.
"Remember my friend? Draco? I told him that he could sit with me on the ride there," Blaise smiled. "I just hope that we have some alone time before that."
Harry found himself blushing at that. The two sat down on the same side and Harry looked out the window where he caught the family that helped him through the barrier. He watched them for a little while, feeling an odd feeling of loneliness as he did so.
He must have been staring out at them for a long time as Blaise called his name, "Harry?"
Harry jostled and turned to Blaise. "Sorry," he blushed, "what did you say?"
"I was asking about where you grew up," Blaise said, "you know, with the muggles…"
"You want to know what's it's like living with the Dursleys?" Harry asked. Blaise nodded. Harry gave a soft frown, "Well… what do you want to know?" he asked. "How they had me sleep under the stairs in a cupboard? How I had to do all the chores while Dudley did nothing? How they barely considered me as family… not that I wanted to be related to them," Harry shrugged.
"I'm sorry," Blaise said. Harry shrugged. "So… you're not lying," Blaise said hesitantly, "when you said you live in a cupboard?"
"Yeah, I did," Harry nodded. "It was small and cramp, most of the space was taken by the mattress. My clothes was just in a large pile under it. It was full of dust and spiders and I could barely stand in it."
"That's horrible," Blaise frowned. "No family should do that! They feed you at least, right?"
"Uhh… well…" Harry shuffled on his seat uncomfortably. He felt very little compared to Blaise, and thought that the boy was judging him. He looked up at Blaise and saw not a hint of snide nor judgement in his eyes. "I eat," he said hesitantly, "scrapes… leftovers. They usually ignore me when I'm at the table, never talk to me. But… if I get sent to my room, I don't eat at all."
Blaise frowned. "That's horrible!" He looked as though he had a thought, "Harry, I want you to lift up your shirt."
"Excuse me!"
"Seriously, please, I just want to see something," Blaise said. "Just for a second!"
Harry gave him a long look before relenting. He did not even notice that the express buckled and started moving. He simply unbuttoned his shirt that was too big for his body and opened it up. Blaise stared at his body for a moment. "Harry! You're too small!" he declared.
"I know that," Harry said hotly. "I know that I'm small for my age!"
"Sorry, but that's not just small Harry," Blaise frowned. "You're too skinny—"
They were interrupted by a knock. Harry looked just as he finished buttoning his shirt. It was the boy from before, whose mother helped Harry get through the barrier. "Sorry… do you mind if I sit here? Everywhere else is full," he said.
"Sure, go ahead," Harry said.
The redhead moved into the compartment and offered his hand. "I'm Ron by the way, Ron Weasley."
"Blaise Zabini," Blaise said.
"I'm Harry," Harry said, "Harry Potter."
Ron's eyes widened. "Woah," he said, "Does that mean you got the… the—"
"The what?" Harry asked.
"The scar," Ron whispered.
"Oh… yeah," Harry smiled, he lifted his bangs revealing the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead. Ron gapped at it for a second before saying, "Wicked… do you remember—"
"No, I don't remember anything," Harry said. "Just a green light, a lot of it."
"Wow," Ron said. He sat and stared at harry for a few moments then, as though he had suddenly realized what he was doing, he looked quickly out of the window again.
"Is your whole family wizards?" Harry asked, finding Ron just as interesting as he found Blaise and Ron found him.
"Er—yes, I think so," Ron said. "I think Mum's got a second cousin who's an accountant, but we never talk about him."
"So you know loads of magic already?" Harry asked, looking between Blaise and Ron.
"Nope," Blaise shrugged. "Anyway Harry, what else was it like living with the muggles?"
"Horrible, I told you," Harry frowned. "Well, not all of them, but my aunt and uncle and cousin are, though." He turned to Ron, "I wish I had three wizard brothers like you."
"Five," Ron said. For some reason he looked gloomy. "I'm the sixth in our family to go to Hogwarts. You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left—Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of Quidditch. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if it do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."
Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fay gray rat, which was asleep. Blaise made a noise of disgust.
"His name is Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff—I mean, I got Scabbers instead."
Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much, because he went back to staring out of the windows.
"Well," Blaise said, "I've never had the pleasure of having brothers, or cousins. I'm an only child and my mother refuses to talk to me about her relatives."
"Yeah," Harry nodded, "I wish I had a brother to look up to…" his thoughts went to Evan for a moment, before he forced the topic to change. "Besides, I've never had any money in my life until a month ago. I've always had to wear Dudley's old clothes once he grew out of them, which was quickly because he was so large."
This cheered Ron up. "And when I did find out, I made my way to the Leaky Cauldron all by myself where this nice man… err… Mr. Weasley—"
"You mean my dad!" Ron gasped. "I thought he was pulling our legs when he told us that!"
Harry smiled, "Anyway, I didn't know anything until him and Hagrid told me. I didn't know anything about being a wizard, about my parents and Evan or Voldemort—"
Ron and Blaise gasped.
"What?"
"You said his name! You said You-Know-Who's name!" Ron said, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I've have thought you, of all people—"
"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," Harry said. "I just never knew you shouldn't. See what I mean? I've got loads to learn! I bet," he added, voicing for the first time something that had been worrying him a lot lately, "I bet I'm the worst in the class."
"You will not," Blaise said. "Far from it. There are loads of students that come from muggle families, and they learn quickly." Harry smiled at Blaise's words. The boy smiled back and glanced outside to see the fields speeding by at full speed.
He looked at Ron and stood up. "Ron! I need you to be my witness," he said.
"What for?" Ron asked, looking slightly confused.
Blaise winked and moved to the compartment door so that he was standing in front of Harry. "I've made a decision Harry," the elven-year-old boy said with enough muster and importance a child so young could gather. "You need a family, a proper family. You need someone to take care of you so, just like the people in my mother's books, I'm saying this in front of Ron as my witness, Harry Potter, when we get older, we're going to be husbands! I am going to marry you and then you'll have a proper family and I'll provide for you like a proper husband and I'll—"
The compartment door slid open during Blaise's declaration. A boy with a pale, pointed face and blonde hair walked in, talking, "I've just gotten away form that ridiculous Parkinson. Would you believe that there is this boy roaming around like an idiot looking for a toad, Zabini? To think that he of all people was accepted into Hogwarts—who are you?" the boy demanded, his eyes falling on Harry and Ron. Ron opened his mouth, but the boy interrupted him, "Don't tell me," he said with a snotty tone in his voice, "Red hair and hand-me-down robes… you must be a Weasley."
"Draco!" Blaise said angrily. Ron looked hurt and hung his head down. Blaise closed the compartment door and glared at him. "First thing you do is have to be rude to my new friend?" he demanded.
"Friend? Weasley?" the boy scoffed. Harry immediately didn't like him. He stood up and said, "Draco, was it? Who are you to judge him?" he asked.
Draco turned towards him, and Harry's green and brown eyes met with the boy's silver. "I'm Malfoy," he said. "Draco Malfoy." His eyes roamed Harry's face, "And you'll find that there are many people in the world who aren't worth your time, Potter."
Harry glanced at Blaise and reached up to his forehead, only to feel that he didn't move his hair back over his scar. Blaise sighed, and pushed Draco down into a seat nearest to the compartment door. Ron shuffled away. "This, Harry," Blaise introduced, "is my friend Draco Malfoy. I swear he isn't always a daddy's boy prat all the time." Ron snickered at that, which caused Draco to glare at him. "Draco, this is Harry," Blaise said. "And when we get older, I'm going to marry him."
"You were serious?" Harry asked.
"Of course," Blaise smiled, "You deserve a good family." Harry's heart fastened and his cheeks reddened. "And Ron was here as a witness, so it's all binding and going to happen."
"What are you prattling on about Zabini?" Draco demanded. "Don't tell me you're lowering yourself to associate with dirt like Weasley!"
"Hey! Don't talk about my friend or husband like that!" Harry said, looking at Blaise quickly to give a quick smile before looking back at Draco. "I don't like your attitude, and my friend is not leaving so you can either keep it to yourself or leave."
The two glared at each other. Draco made a noise and crossed his arms, stubbornly staying in place.
"Well… in that case," Blaise sighed, "guess this compartment will be the four of us. Me, my new husband, my new friend, and my prat-of-a-best friend." Harry and Ron laughed along with Blaise, who sat next to Harry and wrapped an arm around his shoulders. Draco just gave the three of them a look and scowled silently. Though Harry could swore he saw the boy's lips curled slightly upright.
At half to twelve, they heard a cart come by and an old woman knocked on the compartment door. "Anything from the trolley, dears?" she asked.
Harry, who hadn't had any breakfast, jumped to his feet, but Ron's ears went pink again and he muttered that he'd brought sandwiches. Harry went out into the corridor with Draco and Blaise. He brought every kind of candy and sweets he could reach, not recognizing any of the names or brands. His pockets stuffed to the brim with candy, he returned to the compartment and emptied it on the empty seat.
"Hungry, are you?" Ron asked, staring at Harry.
"Starving," Harry said, taking a large bite out of a pumpkin pastry. Ron had taken out a lumpy package and unwrapped it. There were four sandwiches inside. He pulled one of them apart and said, "She always forgets I don't like corned beef."
"Swap you for one of these," Harry said, holding up a pastry. "Go on—"
"You don't want this, it's all dry," Ron said. "She hasn't got much time," he added quickly, "you know, with five of us—"
"Just take the pastry Ron," Harry said, who never had anything to share before or, indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling.
Blaise gave Draco a hard look, as though to silently keep him from acting out, and he traded with Ron for a sandwich too. The three ate their way through the pasties, cakes, and candies, the sandwiches laying forgotten.
"So, you were serious about earlier?" Ron asked. "About you and Harry?"
"Of course," Blaise nodded.
"What's this?" Harry asked, holding up a pack of Chocolate Frogs. "They're not real frogs, are they?"
"No Potter, they are just enchanted to look like frogs," Draco said, rolling his eyes. "Honestly where did you grow up, under a rock?"
"No, with horrible muggles," Blaise answered. "And don't talk to my husband in that tone!" Draco rolled his eyes but got up to get a pastry from the pile. "Might as well," he muttered.
"Check the card you've got," Ron said. "I'm missing Agrippa."
"What?"
"Chocolate Frogs has cards inside them, you know, to collect—famous witches and wizards. I've got about five hundred, but I haven't got Agrippa or Ptolemy."
Harry unwrapped his Chocolate Frog and picked up the card. It showed a man's face. He wore half-moon glasses, had a long, crooked nose, and flowing silver hair, beard, and mustache. Underneath the picture was the name Albus Dumbledore.
"So this is Dumbledore," Harry muttered. He turned over the card and read:
ALBUS DUMBLEDORE
Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts
Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music, tenpin bowling, and knitting patterns.
Harry placed the card to the side.
"You honestly don't know about Dumbledore?" Draco said in a slightly accusing voice.
"No, I do not Malfoy," Harry said simply.
"My husband grew up with muggles," Blaise said. "Bad muggles."
"All muggles are bad," Draco said.
"Wrong," Harry shook his head. "Most muggles are nice, it's just my aunt, uncle, and cousin that are horrible!"
Draco did not look convinced but a warning look from Blaise kept him quiet. The train ride continued to go on, the fields speeding past as the sun traveled across the sky slowly. The four in the compartment talked the day away, picking at Harry's candy. Malfoy talked with the other three, looking reluctant, and ignoring Ron, but the redhead didn't show any insult to this, instead telling Blaise and Harry about his brothers Charlie in Romania studying dragons and Bill, who was in Africa doing something for Gringotts. Both Harry and Blaise, who stayed sitting close to each other, seemed to hang onto Ron's every word.
It was starting to get dark, and Harry decided to just sit back and listened as the three other boys talked rather animated about Quidditch teams. Outside Harry could see mountains and forests under the purple sky. The train seemed to be slowing down.
The four of them changed into their long black robes and they heard a voice echoed through the train, "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."
The train slowed right down and finally stopped. People pushed their way toward the door and out on a tiny, dark platform. Harry shivered on the cold air and Blaise moved to make sure he was right next to him. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harry heard a familiar voice.
"Firs' years! Firs' years over here! All right, there, Harry?"
Hagrid's big furry face beamed at him over the sea of heads.
"You know him?" Draco demanded.
"Yeah, he helped me into Hogwarts and Gringotts, and walked me home from Diagon Alley," Harry nodded. "He's nice."
Both Draco and Blaise shared a disapproved face, but Harry did not notice it. Hagrid ordered all the first years to follow him. Slipping and stumbling, they followed him down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick threes there. Nobody spoke much. The narrow path opened suddenly around a corner onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, in windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.
Along the shore was a fleet of little boats. They fitted four to a boat, and the four boys gotten into one boat, Ron and Draco giving the other harsh glares. "I'm sure they'll get along," Blaise whispered to Harry, "give or take a few years."
Harry chuckled and looked back at Ron and Draco. "You sure?" he asked.
The boats moved by themselves, gliding effortlessly across the lake's glass-like surface. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered everyone as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.
The boats carried them into a tiny cave that turned into a dark tunnel that led them to a underground dock. Hagrid checked on everyone as they climbed out of the boats and the group clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle. They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. Hagrid knocked three times on the door, and it opened at once.
A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harry's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.
"Thank you, Hagrid, I will take them from here."
She led the group of first years into the castle's entrance hall. They walked across the flagged stone floor, Harry could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right, the rest of the school must already be here. Professor McGonagall stopped in front of the door and turned towards them. "Welcome to Hogwarts," she said. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. While you are here, your houses will be like your family.
"There are four houses, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are here, your triumphs will earn your house points while any rule breaking will lose them. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."
She paused, and turned to the door, the talking decreased somewhat, and Professor McGonagall turned towards them. "We are ready for you now, follow me."
In two lines, the first years followed Professor McGonagall as led them through the pair of double doors into the Great Hall. It was a strange and splendid place. It was lit by thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. Professor McGonagall silently place a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. The hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. Aunt Petunia wouldn't have let it in the house.
Harry wondered what they were going to have to do with the hat when, a few seconds later, a tear at the brim of the hat appeared and opened wide like a mouth—and the hat began to sing.
When the hat finished its song about the Four Houses, it became still again as the Hall erupted in applause. It wasn't that good of a singer, Harry thought to himself. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward with a scroll of parchment. "When I call your name, you will put on the Sorting Hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbot, Hannah!"
A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down a moment's pause—
"HUFFLEPUFF!" the hat shouted.
And so it went on, the First years started to get sorted one by one. Susan Bones went to Hufflepuff; Terry Boot became the first Ravenclaw, joined by Mandy Brocklehurst while Lavender Brown became the first Gryffindor; Millicent Bulstrode, an ugly girl, became the first Slytherin. Harry listened carefully for his name, and paid attention only when it was Draco Malfoy's turn. He swaggered forward and the hat had barely touched his head when it screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"
… "Potter, Harry!"
Harry stepped forward, his different-colored eyes sweeping across the Hall nervously as whispers reached his ears. "Potter? Did she say Potter?" "The Harry Potter?"
He sat on the stool and the last thing he saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people trying to get a good look at him. It was black inside, he could not see a thing. He waited.
"Hmm," a voice whispered in his ear. "Difficult, very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh, yes, and a thirst to prove yourself… but where to put you?"
Harry stayed silent. He started to feel tense as the hat remained silent as well. Then, after seemingly making up its mind, Harry heard the hat shout—"SLYTHERIN!"
Strangely, there was no cheers for Harry's placement. When he looked around, he saw the four tables shock in silence. Slipping off the stool, Harry didn't know how to feel when he turned to Professor McGonagall to see if he'd done something wrong. As he turned around, he saw Professor Dumbledore, sitting in the middle of the teacher's table, looking just as he did on his Wizard's Card. He looked down at Harry and gave a reassuring smile, clapping his hands at Harry's sorting.
This relieved Harry, and seemed to be a cue for Slytherin Table to cheer for him as Harry made his way to it, sitting next to Draco. Soon afterwards, Ron was sorted into Gryffindor immediately after the hat was placed on his head, and Blaise joined his husband-to-be and best friend in Slytherin.
"I'm so happy we're in the same House, husband," Blaise smiled.
"Indeed," Draco drawled, "wouldn't dare imagine being stuck in Gryffindor with that Weasley—"
"You will stop talking about Ron like that," Blaise said, "He is our friend, right Harry?"
"Yes, of course," Harry nodded. Slytherin Table and Gryffindor Table were on the opposite side of the Great Hall. Harry did his best to try and catch Ron's eye, waving eagerly at him. Ron, who looked a little down, was nudged by another boy and looked up at Harry's waving. He smiled and waved back.
"See?" Harry said. "Ron is still our friend, so that means you have to be nice to him, or else."
"Who knows," Blaise chuckled. "You two could be husbands like Harry and me!"
"As if I would dare to marry a Weasley," Draco said, as though he was just insulted. "And stop with that husband talk, we're eleven!"
"Well, that's why I told Harry that once we're old enough to do it properly I'm going to marry him," Blaise said with a childish seriousness. "That way, Harry can have a proper family who'll care for him, instead of neglecting him like those muggles."
"Whatever," Draco muttered, rolling his eyes. Blaise chuckled, and looked at Harry, "Don't mind him, he's just jealous."
Harry nodded in agreement, smiling at both of them. Dumbledore stood up, and Harry expected him to give some great speech, only for him to say some nonsense words. The plates all magically filled with food, and the feast began.
"So, how'd you get in to be a Slytherin?" a boy across of them asked. Harry looked up at him curiously. "Theodore Nott," the boy introduced himself.
"Harry Potter—"
"I know."
Harry frowned. "I've gotten in here because I was sorted into here," he said simply.
"But your family was in Gryffindor, all of the Potters have been in nothing but Gryffindor—"
"Well he's in Slytherin with his husband," Blaise interrupted. "So shush," and he stuck his tongue out.
"I didn't mean anything of it," Nott said, "Just want to know why—"
"Does it matter?" Draco interrupted. "We got Potter and Weasley didn't." Harry and Blaise gave him a sharp look. "I mean Gryffindor hasn't," he corrected himself. Blaise nodded at the correction and winked at Harry.
Next to Nott, though not to Nott's pleasure it seemed to Harry by the sharp looks the boy was giving them, were two large, oaf-looking boys. "These are Crabbe, and Goyle," Draco said. "Ignore them."
"Okay," Harry shrugged. He looked up and down the Slytherin table. They looked to be an okay lot, some where very handsome and pretty, while others weren't. He looked at Blaise and Draco and asked, "Why did nobody seem happy that I was sorted into here?"
"You mean you didn't know?" Draco hummed.
"Know what?" Harry asked.
"Slytherin," Blaise began, "has a bit of a reputation. Dark wizards and witches came from this House. The most recent… being You-Know-Who."
Harry had a sinking feeling in his stomach. "Oh," was all he said about it, not wanting to bring up unhappy talk or thoughts. Nott, unfortunately, did not seem to be able to read Harry's mood as he shrugged, "Yeah, so now they're all probably wondering if you're going to be the next Dark Lord or something." That made Harry feel worse.
"Not that you're going to be," Blaise said. "Just because you're in Slytherin means nothing, Harry, absolutely nothing."
"You sure?"
"Absolutely! Good husbands never lie—that's something my mother told me," Blaise said. Harry relieved a little, but it wasn't until the feast was fully over, and his stomach was stuffed with food, that the horrible feeling went away. Dumbledore stood up once more, and Harry had a feeling that now was the time for him to give his speech.
"Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Everyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a most painful death."
Harry felt a shiver go down his spine and looked around, the entire school felt uncomfortable for a moment. "Now, it is time for all of us to enjoy the warm embrace of our beds. Off you trot!"
The Slytherin first years followed a large teenager whose name Harry didn't catch out of the Great Hall and down a marble staircase into what appeared to be the school's dungeons. It was a little colder in the corridors, but torches along the walls warmed them up a little as they went down a couple twisting passageways to reach a dead-end. "This is the common room," the teenager grunted. "The password's 'Draught.'" The wall shuttered and moved, just as the stone wall did in Diagon Alley, except this time it revealed a small archway that led to what was obviously the Slytherin's common room.
The common room was a long room with a chandelier hanging in the center. On one side was a large fireplace with a mantlepiece engraved with designs of snakes, chairs and couches surround it and were spaced out around the room. It was surprisingly warm.
Harry walked in with Blaise and Draco, feeling tired and, for the first time in since he could remember, very full of delicious food. The teenager pointed them towards a set of stairs in the back of the common room that led towards the dormitories when the common room's door opened once more.
"Professor Dumbledore!" the prefect gasped.
"Ah, yes, good evening everyone," Professor Dumbledore smiled. "Good evening Gemma, good evening Markus, Pansy… ah, Harry." The Headmaster walked up to Harry.
"Umm, good evening, Professor Dumbledore," Harry said.
"There is some important things I would like to discuss with you Harry," Professor Dumbledore said. "Not now, of course, we are all too tired and full of food for serious conversations—I myself could not stop eating the Shepard's pie tonight, they have out done themselves this year, I must say."
"What is it you want to talk about, Professor?" Harry asked.
"Family matters, Harry," Dumbledore said. "Your parents have entrusted me with some possessions, and I would like to quell any questions and anxieties you might have… as well as share some heavy news." Dumbledore was silent for a moment. "However, that all can be done at a later date… Friday would be good, I believe. It would give you time to familiarize yourself with the castle, and an old man to gather his thoughts." He chuckled and looked at the rest of Slytherin.
"Good night everyone," he said cheerfully. "I am sure under Professor Snape's watchful eye, you all will win the House Cup once more." He chuckled along with several other Slytherins and walked out of the common room.
Both Blaise and Draco turned to Harry. "Harry…"
Harry shook his head, "Professor Dumbledore's right," he said, "we're all too full and sleepy for serious talk. I want to go to bed."
"Alright," Blaise nodded, "I'm sure it's not bad news, he looked merry enough." Draco nodded in agreement.
"I wasn't worried about that," Harry said. He blocked his mouth with his wrist as he yawned, "but… I am worried about what he has that my parents want me to have." He spoke no more, and with those final words went to the stairs that led upwards towards the boy's dormitory. In the first year's room, he found his trunk already sitting in front of a bed and changed.
That night he dreamed of the Sorting, only this time there was another boy that looked just like him but with brown eyes, and while Harry was still sorted into Slytherin, his brother Evan Potter was placed in Gryffindor, like all other Potters.
A/N: I've put in a lot of effort and time into my chapters. I would love it if you guys leave a review and tell me your opinions and thoughts on this chapter and what's going to happen.
