So after speaking to Astrid I'm feeling a bit better about things and as I rejoin the line Scorpius says, "who was that?"
"A friend." I reply. I told him earlier that I'm an Orphan, well, to tell the truth it was a bit difficult to hide it once Tony Cartwright had walked the length of the table to shake my hand. I have to admit though, it felt good. None of the other first years had their hand shaken by a house Quidditch captain, not even Al. I pretended I knew who he was as soon as I found out, but in all honesty, I hadn't twigged it, and now I feel a bit stupid. When they'd passed us at the station i'd been distracted by his brother, who was a lot louder than him. But to think I'd spent my journey to Hogwarts with Albus Potter and not even known it! Ha!
Anyway, Scorpius asks me some more questions about Astrid and I reply easily enough. He's ok, Scorpius, mostly because he's a Deathling too and gets the stigma. Louis Bentley, is a bit of a d*ck. He didn't expect to be made a Slytherin, apparently his father was a Gryffindor and his mother was a Ravenclaw, and he's all disappointed. Just goes to show that Slytherin is still considered a step down in the magical world, whatever people say. I know Astrid meant well, but I saw her going up the stairs and it just feels a bit obvious when everyone else has a common room at ground level or in a tower and the Slytherins are down in the dungeons. Lamar Digby, our Prefect, was telling us about the other houses at the feast, so I know roughly where they are and none of them are underground.
We're walking through stone passageways lined with burning torch brackets, which is pretty cool. I have to admit that i'd thought Hogwarts would have electricity. I know it's a castle and it's filled with Witches and Wizards, but the amount of magic it must take to keep this place ticking is insane, why not just wire it and have done? That's probably just my muggle exposure talking.
"Scorpius, did you go to a muggle school?" I'm suddenly interested.
"No, but I was home schooled." He says quickly. It sounds like he's self-conscious, which is weird.
"What, so you know magic already?" I think it must be great being brought up in a wizard family, but then his reply shocks me.
"No. I wasn't allowed."
"Not even potions?" I'm tap-dancing on the line here, but i'm carried away by curiosity.
"No. Why potions?"
"Oh no reason." I lie quickly. "I heard some older kids on the train talking about loop holes in magical law that mean they can mix potions without being detected. That's all."
"Oh, well, I never did that. I did have a broom-stick from the age of eight though."
"Wow, that must be so cool!" I say this, I'm actually terrified by the prospect of flying, but I won't admit it until I have to. We arrive outside a stretch of blank wall and Digby says, "This is the entrance to our common room. You will forget it. Most first years take about a month to be able to find it every time and we have to send out regular search parties around the dungeons. But that's better than leaving maps to our common room laying around. First years are always pretty easy to find because we just listen for the password being yelled at the wrong stretch of wall." Everyone laughs nervously at this. "The password is Grindylow." He finishes with a smile and at his word the stone quivers and slides sideways. We pass through into a long, low hall with rough stone walls and a slightly smoother low vaulted ceiling. It feels a bit like a crypt. Looking up I see that the angles of the ceiling meet at large, flat, shiny disks.
"They're windows." Scorpius says, he's still beside me. "My father's told me lots about this room. It's under the lake so that during the day the light shines green through the water."
For now the room is lit by two large ornately carved black marble fireplaces facing one another on either side of the room, and ornate iron lamps hanging between the ceiling windows that emit a clear green light. The effect is not unpleasant. Around each fireplace, and clustered around the edges of the room, are green leather armchairs and little spindly dark wood tables, while the center of the room is dominated by a long black marble table.
"This way now." Digby calls, and we all hurry around these things to the opposite end of the hall where there are two marble archways. In front of one of these stands a tall red-headed girl I recognise from the Orphanage but not as a regular resident. "This is Tryphaina Bell, girls follow her, boys, come with me."
There are five first year Slytherin girls, and four boys. We follow Digby along a corridor that bends to the right with seven doors leading away in different directions. Digby stops in front of the fourth door along, which is heavy oak with a sign on the front in polished silver that says 'first years'. "I leave you here. Get settled and sleep well, you'll need it." With that he turns and walks back along the curved passageway.
Malfoy turns the heavy silver handle, pushes it open, and we all go inside. There are four, four poster beds, in a square room, two against the left wall, two against the right. Each has deep green curtains and at the foot of each bed our trunks have been placed. In the opposite wall is another fireplace in a simple iron surround.
"So this is where I'm expected to live out my Hogwarts days?" Bentley says, as he slouches towards the bed on the far right. "In a dungeon."
"If this is a dungeon then I should get arrested more." I say, turning towards the bed on the immediate left and trying out the mattress. It's pretty soft.
"Well I suppose it beats the Orphanage." Bentley sneers in return. It's a cheap blow and it barely scratches.
"Yup, no fireplaces there and no four-poster beds either." I smile, stretching out.
"You're an Orphan?" The other boy asks. He didn't sit with us at the feast, but went straight along the table to sit with his sister. He's tall, taller than Bentley, with high, chiseled cheekbones and a haughty expression.
"Yup." I say. "Vincent Hevoret." We shake hands, he's got the bed next to mine.
"Blaise. Hector Blaise." He replies.
"Your father's Zabini Blaise." Malfoy says, coming forward to shake hands. "Our fathers were here together."
"Zabini?" Bentley asks, straightening up from his trunk. "That's a bit more exotic than Hector, how did that happen?"
"Hector was my mother's father, he died and she named me for him." Blaise replies with dignity. "My father hates it."
"Vincent, Louis, Hector, and Scorpius." I ponder, reaching for my pajamas, "I think you're the odd one out, Malfoy."
"If we're looking for odd ones out," he says, "then I say it's Bentley. We all expected to be placed in Slytherin, he didn't. And he's obviously not too happy about being here." Malfoy's pale cheeks are becoming flushed. "My forefathers have been in Slytherin as far back as we can trace and i've wanted nothing more than to belong to this house."
"Your forefathers were all rotten to the core, that's why." Bentley snaps, "I'd be careful about using your father's name around here, if I were you."
"My father did what he had to for his family in a very difficult time." Scorpius shrieks back.
Blaise leans against the narrow mantle piece, placing a family photograph on it that he just got out of his trunk. "I think it would be wise to not think too much about what our fathers did." He glances in my direction as he speaks and I shift uncomfortably. "We are not our fathers, and that should suffice. You are a Slytherin now," he says, turning to Bentley, "which means it's the best house for you." With that he gets into bed and draws his hangings. The wind is taken out of the argument, slowly we all get into bed, but the tension remains palpable.
I lay for a long time gazing up at the canopy of my bed. I'd never thought of myself as lucky before, but with my father dead and my mother in Azkaban I have no reason to want to feel proud of them. Scorpius knows his father, and what's more, so does everyone else, and that must be harder. My mind drifts from flickering, green light to delicious food, and suddenly the voice of the Sorting Hat is in my head again, Well I can't see where else I should put you. You have talent, ambition, pride, determination, all good Slytherin qualities.
"I will NOT be in Slytherin!"
And what's wrong with Slytherin? It really is the best place for you, nowhere else would you be at home in your own head.
"I CAN'T be in Slytherin!"
If you had strong traits belonging to anywhere else then I'd consider it, but your bravery is overshadowed by your ambition, your kindness by pride and your cleverness is secondary to your determination, although I must say that in your case determination will serve you far better.
"Please not Slytherin."
No, I'll hear no more of this, Slytherin is a noble house and that's where you belong whether you like it or not!
"SLYTHERIN!"
Well, the Hat has spoken and this is where I've ended up. I drift off to sleep wondering what the Hat said to Louis Bentley before announcing his sentence.