Orianna sat at the end of the Slytherin table for the Sorting Feast, calmly drinking the cup of self-refilling pumpkin juice in front of her. She had finished the three steaks and two plates of mashed potatoes that was hers, along with an entire treacle tart that appeared after she had finished the main course. Without anyone else in Slytherin willing to sit next to her for the duration of the feast, she had finished long before anyone else had even started on their desserts.

Which was just fine with Orianna. 'If they will not sit with me, they are not worth knowing', she thought to herself. All the more time at her disposal if she didn't have to contend with their idle prattle. Now if only she had a good book to read, she would not be so unbearably bored by simply sitting there. Scanning the other first years' mannerisms to identify potential problems had gotten quite pointless by the fifth pass of the entire hall. It didn't take more than a quick glance to see the distrustful looks being shown to house Slytherin by virtually all of the other older students.

And it certainly didn't take long to see just how distasteful the others in her own house found her. For what reason, however, she needed to find out. Her mother had insistently drilled the idea of every symptom having an underlying cause in an illness, and surely it was no different in how these people behaved. It would be very troublesome indeed if they remained opposed to her for all seven years of her education.

A soft creak of wood to her left caught her attention. One of the first year students from Slytherin had seated herself next to her. A brunette with lively grey eyes; Tracey Davis, if she recalled correctly. There was the slightest curl of her lips as she extended a hand to Orianna and cleared her throat.

"Greetings. I don't believe that we've been introduced to each other," she spoke, in an overly stiff and obviously rehearsed manner. "My name is Tracey Davis, of the Minor House of Davis. May I know your name?"

Orianna blinked and stared at the offered hand. That was definitely not what she expected. "Hm. I'm honestly not certain how I should respond," she murmured under her breath. Coughing, she looked up to meet Tracey's eyes and shook her hand firmly. So firmly, in fact, that Tracey yelped and rubbed her hand immediately after. Adams always said that a leader should never show weakness – and she would be damned if she started now. "Greetings, Miss Davis. I am Orianna Flynn,"

"Of House...?"

"House? Aren't we all part of house Slytherin?"

Evidently, that was not quite the answer that the other Slytherin girl was looking for. She frowned and shook her head. "Yes, but that wasn't what I meant. I guess I can just stop with the formalities, now that it's obvious that you're actually a Muggleborn,"

"If by that, you mean that I was born to non-magical parents? Indeed I am. Is this going to be a problem?"

Tracey looked left and right. When she was sure that everyone else was too focused on their desserts to pay attention, she leant in and whispered into her ear, "Not with me. My mother is Muggleborn, so I haven't got a problem with other Muggleborns. Well, most of them, anyway,"

"What do you mean by that?"

"I'll explain later tonight. Just...others in my—our—house might not be as...welcoming. It'd be best if you don't draw attention for a while,"

With that, the brunette stood up and returned to her previous seat, leaving Orianna behind. She caught a glimpse of Aveline's questioning look from the Hufflepuff table, and replied with a vigorous shake of her head and a warning glare. She didn't need to get worried about something that was likely nothing to worry about.

Later on, after Dumbledore had made the students sing the most absurd and nonsensical school song to have ever existed, the students were ushered down to their dormitories by prefects, Orianna discovered just how dismal the Slytherins' house areas were. The tunnels to the dungeons were dark, damp and somewhat cold, and water dripped down onto the mouldy, musty and threadbare carpets that covered the slippery cobblestone floor. The torches bound to the walls held only flickering, wavering flames that seemed as though the slightest breeze would snuff them out.

"This is worse than mother's laboratory," she grumbled to herself, eyes twitching after she had to pull a spiderweb out of her hair for the sixth time on their trip.

At least it wasn't that much further. Right in front of a particularly large puddle of water sat a bare stretch of stone wall, where the prefect, Gemma Farley, made them stop. "Now," she ordered imperiously, "I do expect that you all remember where this is. How many turns to take, how far to walk, and how many torches down this tunnel you must walk. This will be the first – and last – time that I will show you where the Slytherin common room is, so pay attention. Yes, that includes you, Heir Malfoy!"

The blond boy that had been so well-accepted by the other Slytherins looked up disdainfully at the prefect. A flash of annoyance crept across the prefect's face, which was gone almost as quickly as it came. With perfect calmness, though one that was not matched by the cold fury in her eyes, she continued, "You will need a password to enter the common room. If you forget this, you will sleep outside until someone else that does know the password takes pity on you and lets you in,"

An implied threat to ensure compliance. Orianna nodded in approval; she found herself already liking this prefect's method. "Now, the password is: Purity,"

When the last syllable left her lips, the wall behind the prefect slowly slid aside to reveal the Slytherin common room. Orianna raised an eyebrow in surprise; unlike the thoroughly unwelcoming tunnels outside, the Slytherin common room was...luxurious. And dare she say it, tastefully decorated. The vaulted marble hall was covered in tapestries of silver and green depicting the Slytherin snake; a plush emerald green carpet ensured that the students never had to step on the freezing stone of the dungeons; and a huge fireplace, almost as large as the one in the great hall, was surrounded by various silver-trimmed couches that held many silken cushions, each embroidered with the silver 'S' of Slytherin.

"All of you will now get inside and I will start explaining the house rules of Slytherin," ordered Farley. When the last person had slipped in, the stone wall closed right behind them. "Good. Take a seat on one of the couches. Which one, I don't care,"

Orianna counted the seats – and quickly realised that there were far fewer couches than there were first-year students. At least, ones that were unoccupied. Aany of them were already occupied by older students. She scrambled for the nearest one, and barely beat the Malfoy boy to one; by the time he turned around to search for another, every single couch had been filled. Seething, he turned around to glare at Orianna.

"That's my seat, Muggleborn. Get off it," the boy declared with a sneer. Two of his cronies – the Dudley-like blocks of fat that flanked him – flexed their muscles threateningly.

"I do not see your name on it, Malfoy," Orianna replied calmly, not at all intimidated by the blond ponce in front of her.

"I guess you want to do this the hard way, don't you? Crabbe, Goyle, why don't we show her how things really work in Slytherin?"

Orianna looked at the prefect questioningly when both of the boys cracked their knuckles and advanced on her. When the prefect simply shrugged, Orianna stood up and cracked her neck, gesturing for them to come at her.

Goyle was the first to throw a punch, which she deftly sidestepped. The boy, more confident in his abilities than was wise, overbalanced and fell face-first into the carpet after a swift swipe of her foot. Next came Crabbe, who seemed to be a little more cautious than Goyle. Perhaps confident that his greater bulk would help him overpower the girl in front of him, he lunged out to tackle her. Orianna merely crouched low to the ground and reared her fist back, before letting loose a punch at the boy's family jewels. Every male in the room winced in sympathy as her fist connected with a resounding crunch, squarely on target.

Needless to say, the boy promptly tumbled to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.

When the blond-haired boy saw his two brutes laid out on the ground, he stuttered incoherently, slack-jawed. Eventually, when he gathered his wits again. "When my father hears of this-"

"Rule number one of Slytherin," Farley loudly announced over Malfoy, a satisfied smirk on her face as she watched Crabbe whimper in pain and roll around on the carpet while clutching his nethers. "We don't really care what happens in the Slytherin common room. Slytherin rewards those that are cunning and ambitious enough to take what they want, and have the power to back up their words,"

"What about Crabbe and Goyle, shouldn't someone take care of them?" asked a raven-haired, dark-skinned boy who was struggling to help one lump of lard back to his feet.

"Heir Goyle appears to be well enough to stand, and therefore he is well enough to look after himself. Sit him down on the floor and make sure he listens, and listens well. And Crabbe, man up and quit moaning," Farley ordered. "Good. Now, for the rest of you. There are only three rules in Slytherin. The first one you know already. Might makes right in the Slytherin. As long as you do not permanently injure, kill or maim someone else, I – and all of the other prefects of Slytherin – will turn a blind eye to whatever happens to any of you. Any disputes will be resolved here in the common room, and not be taken to the dormitories or elsewhere in the castle. Do you all understand me?"

Silence was her reply. "Hmph. I will assume that your silence is that of understanding. The second is that outwardly, Slytherins must display outward solidarity. You will not argue with another Slytherin in public. You will not raise disputes with another Slytherin in public. If a Slytherin would be threatened by the actions of those of another house, you will assist them as long as you would not spotted breaking any school rules in the process. Fail to adhere to this, and you will not like the consequences. Do you all understand me?"

Another bout of silence. "Very good. I see that I have your rapt attention. Now, the third and final rule of Slytherin. We are well-connected families of good standing within the Wizarding world, bred mostly from well-tested bloodlines of witches and wizards...except for one notable case," Farley spoke, eyeing Orianna with an appraising gaze, "Whether you are of a Most Noble and Ancient House or the lowest of Minor Houses, you will not bring your family into any dispute between yourselves. Those outside our house are fair game only if you are attacked first. You are Slytherins, the embodiment of power, ambition and the machinations that will provide those two things. Learn how to wield power yourself. Nothing is more pathetic than a man or a woman who cannot stand on his or her own right. Do I make myself clear, Heir Malfoy?"

"..."

"Do I make myself clear, Heir Malfoy?" the prefect repeated herself, shooting a white bolt of light from a concealed wand in her sleeve. The bolt of magic burned a hole into the carpet next to his feet, causing him to jump with a frightened yelp.

"Yes,"

"Good. Very good..." Prefect Farley smirked. She shot another white bolt, which whizzed past Malfoy's ear and fizzled against the stone wall to the side of the common room. "Except for the lack of respect, Heir Malfoy. Your father may be powerful in the Wizengamot, but even he understands the traditions of Slytherin and will not interfere in...shall we say, internal affairs. Address your betters with respect, or you will find that my aim will be much better next time. Now, the rest of you; any questions?"

The first years who hadn't been cowed by the display shook their heads weakly. "Excellent. Off to your dormitories, then! The house-elves have taken your trunks from the train and have put them next to your allocated beds. Boys' dormitories are on the left, and the girls' dormitories are on the right. Do not try to enter the wrong dormitories, boys, unless you want to explain to our resident Mediwitch why you have green, stinking pus oozing from your bits,"

The boys visibly shivered at that warning. "I have to admit that I am curious. Has that occurred to anyone before, Prefect Farley?" asked a regal-looking blonde that was sharing a seat with Tracey Davis.

"At least once a year," grinned Farley. "Any other questions? No? Then take a shower, get settled into your dormitories and get to know one another. Bathrooms are down the end of the common room, boys on the left and girls on the right. Curfew is at ten for you first-year students, and midnight for everyone else. Flynn, stay behind. I would like to have a word with you,"

As everyone else scattered and made their way either to the dorms or the bathrooms, Orianna found herself face-to-face with the prefect. Farley wore a grim smile as she put a hand on Orianna's shoulder. "I don't think there's been a Slytherin Muggleborn for...well, ever. I expected to find someone timid and willing to just stay out of the way, given how the others reacted to your Sorting. I suppose you just proved me wrong, Flynn,"

"You do not appear displeased about what happened to either of those boys," remarked Orianna.

She gave a sharp, short bark of laughter. "Oh, indeed I am not. That was exceptionally amusing entertainment. The way that you punched Crabbe in the 'nads and made Goyle eat some carpet? I'm definitely keeping that memory for future laughs, and perhaps for some...objectionable material to hold over their heads. You certainly showed him who has the real power by not backing off from his challenge. Still, watch your back, Flynn. The language of power in the Snakepit isn't the same as that among the lions. Where the lions use strength, the snakes use guile and allies to get their work done,"

Orianna couldn't help but think that there was something that Farley wasn't telling her. "And what do you mean by that?"

"Let's just say that even the strongest python can be brought down by bites of a dozen smaller venomous snakes, and leave it at that. You have a brain, Flynn; use it,"

Orianna nodded, thanking the prefect for her advice. In the corner of her eyes, she could see Malfoy silently fuming at her, yet unable to act on his own. Beside him was Goyle, looking as blank as a statue; on the other side of Goyle was Crabbe, who glared murderously at her while clutching a bag of ice against his badly bruised bits. It was fairly clear what they thought of her – that she was a Muggleborn scum, worth less than the mud beneath the soles of their shoes. Yet she found herself wondering just how many of the others harboured the same ill intentions towards her.

Divide and conquer. Adams' oft-quoted maxim made little sense to Orianna in the past, but now it seemed completely apt. She needed to know who her enemies were, and who her possible allies were. Her sisters, as reliable as they were, couldn't be brought into any intra-Slytherin conflicts – and at the same time, she felt that assisting them in any conflicts between them and Slytherin would only end up with the rest of the Slytherins hexing, cursing and jinxing her out of the common room. No, she needed allies inside the house to secure her position. She also needed to weaken her enemies inside the house, if only to be able to get a good night's sleep in the aptly-named Snakepit.

She breathed a deep sigh and cradled her forehead. This was a problem that needed to be thought about with a hot shower. Or overnight.

Returning from the shower to her dorms, however, she found herself facing a peculiar problem. All of the other girls had gone to sleep already, the curtains around their four-poster beds having gone completely dark to help them sleep. Two, however, were still uncovered. One of them was hers, and the other was- "Miss Davis," she said to the brunette that was sitting on her bed, "You are in my bed,"

"Technically, I wasn't in your bed," she replied playfully, "I was sitting on it. But close enough. Come sit down. And you don't have to call me Miss Davis all the time. Tracey's fine,"

"Very well, Tracey, then you may call me Orianna," Orianna said, sitting down beside Tracey. To her surprise, the bed remained completely stable. "What was it that you wished to speak to me about?"

"Wow, you sound so much like Daphy," she quipped, glancing at one of the covered beds. "She's always soooo prim and proper, like a good young lady of a Noble House that she was brought up to be. Anyway! I'm getting a bit distracted,"

"Yes, yes you are. I doubt that my way of speaking is what you want to speak about," Orianna agreed.

"Pfft. I do want to talk about the way you talk, silly! I wanted to talk to you a little bit about how the Wizarding world works. Considering that you come from a Muggleborn family with little to no knowledge on how our world works, you might find it a bit hard to stop stepping on everyone's toes in Slytherin when you speak to them,"

"And why would that be?"

Tracey shrugged. "Tradition? Pride? Malfoy won't even look at me without turning up his nose, seeing as he comes from the high-and-mighty Ancient And Noble House of Malfoy,"

That sounded terribly like the snooty nobles that she had read about in those fanciful medieval stories that Lucille kept in her bookshelves. "I suppose there would be a hundred ways to insult them without myself knowing, isn't there?"

"Yup. I can teach you how to not do that. I mean, I can see that none of the other first year boys would want to mess with you for now, but if you insult the older ones...well, they might take it quite badly. That was a really good hit on Vince, by the way," Tracey grinned, "I've always wanted to get him back for all the times that he and Malfoy have insulted my mum at the annual Malfoy ball,"

"Thanks, I suppose. But he did leave himself wide open,"

"Psh. Wide open or not, that was a brilliant hit. Anyway, I was going to ask Daphy to help you learn more about Wizarding culture so that you wouldn't make an enemy of everyone in Slytherin before you've even met them. But-" she thumbed over her shoulder at the bed beside Orianna's own, "-Daphy looks like she needs her beauty sleep. I could teach you, but I'd probably get half the finer points wrong anyway,"

Orianna frowned. That was an entire day that she could possibly commit various degrees of offence against others in Slytherin without knowing about it. At the very least, she supposed that she could simply stay as far away from the others as possible. Not that she needed to try very hard to do that, considering that every Slytherin avoided her as though she had the plague.

Well. All except for the one sitting on her bed. Which made her desire to approach her all that much more suspicious. "Tracey," asked Orianna slowly, "Why are you doing this? Why help me?"

The brunette girl simply shrugged and gave her a sly smirk. "I guess it was because I thought you looked like someone that could handle yourself. And I'm happy that I'm not wrong, for once. It's just that – well, it's just that I want to see you fit in with the rest of the house," said Tracey. Seeing that Orianna wasn't entirely convinced, Tracey's face fell and she leaned in to whisper, "Look, Orianna – I'll be honest. I'm a half-blood in Slytherin, and that already makes quite a few people look down on me from the start. My House – my family – isn't considered to be powerful or rich, and you've seen how Malfoy acts against people who he thinks come from 'lesser' families. Aside from my good friend Daphy that I grew up with, I can't count on anyone else to actually stand up for me,"

"So if I understand correctly, you want to use me for protection. Is that correct?"

"No, I didn't mean it like that!" gasped Tracey, scandalised. "I'd sooner die than be like Malfoy. He bought those friends of his with money, you know. What I'm trying to say is – I can't exactly make many more friends in Slytherin thanks to my blood status, and it'd be next to impossible for you to do that. It'd be good for both of us if we stuck together. I and Daphy could teach you how to act around the stuck-up kids of the Noble Houses so that you won't get hexed in the back every few days, and...well...I'd get another...friend,"

The way that she nearly muttered out the last part in shame caused Orianna to feel a little sorry for the girl. In a way, her lack of friends reminded Orianna unpleasantly of herself. It stung quite badly at times, to see Zoe and Aveline run around with their own friends at the local park, while she remained at home to study the books that Adams and her mother gave to her to read. One did get used to it after a while, but sometimes she wondered how it would be to actually have a friend for once.

Her feelings on the matter aside, what Tracey proposed did make logical sense. She needed more information on how the Wizarding world operated to avoid making enemies, while Tracey supposedly needed protection. It was an acceptable exchange.

Orianna stood up and gingerly wrapped her arms around the brunette. "Very well, Tracey. If a friend is what you are after...you have been kinder than any of the other Slytherins thus far. I accept,"

Slowly, uncertainly, Tracey returned the hug. "Thanks, Ori! You don't know how much this means to me," she choked out. A genuine, radiant smile now adorned her face. "I swear, I'll make it up to you,"

Not sure how to respond to that, Orianna simply nodded and let the girl go. Only after the brunette had skipped her way back to her bed and slinked back under the covers did Orianna realise something truly dreadful.

Tracey had called her Ori.

She groaned and slumped into her bed. Tracey would have to be corrected eventually. As she drifted off to sleep, she found her thoughts drifting to what surprises lay in the morning.

"Hopefully no more fistfights," she mumbled into her pillow.


A/N:

And there we have it; the infamous Snakepit. The Ninth Circle of Hell, right here in Hogwarts! Beware treachery in its silver-lined halls, for the nest of snakes and vipers offers no quarter to those of pure intentions! Doubly so if one was not born with a silver magical spoon in one's mouth.

I've read of renditions of house Slytherin being a place where Slytherins stick to each other no matter what, and I found them quite...off. That's totally a Hufflepuff thing to do. If Slytherins were really the house of the ambitious, loyalty would be one of the least important things on their members' minds. Power, and its acquisition, would be everything. Literally. Those too weak to defend themselves or to properly pursue their ambitions would be nothing more than a stepping stone for the strong. It should be a place with vicious competition between its members, friendly or otherwise. Particularly when one considers the heritage of virtually all its members, which are of supposedly 'noble' wizarding stock with huge preconceptions of superiority over lessers.

gginsc: Ori's survival in Slytherin remains to be seen. Power is one thing, but if alliances come into play...well...yeah, that's not going to go well. The weight of the girls will be explained in a later chapter. As with how Hermione would cope with the competition? My perception of Hermione is someone who doesn't take competition very well. She literally has Slytherin-like ambition ramped up to 11 out of 10 when it comes to academic success, without the underlying vision of what to do with that success.