Harry knew that he was supposed to be studying for the upcoming potions test but…it was hard. Making himself focus and read was extremely difficult to do, and the subject itself wasn't exactly 'up his alley'. That's not to say it was boring, exactly, but it wasn't the most interesting thing in the world either, at least in his mind. And, Professor Slughorn's propensity to play the 'favorites game' wasn't a virtue in the little raven's eyes, especially in a Professor. He was also slightly biased towards his House.
As much as Harry wanted to begrudge him that, given the fact that the adults responsible for teaching them should be impartial and would be in an ideal world, he couldn't. Why? Because all of the teachers did it! If it wasn't the House they were the Head of it was the House they'd been a part of. And if it wasn't slipping in a few extra points for mundane things like sitting in the front row of their class it was taking them for stupid things like 'sneezing out of turn'.
He wasn't aware that it was now, apparently, a requirement to ask permission to sneeze.
That being said, the man-though incredibly arrogant in a fairly unique way and altogether too loud to be teaching in a place with acoustics like the dungeon's-Horace Slughorn was still a better teacher than his 'Uncle' Severus would ever be. At least he didn't hate Harry for the stupid things that his father and his friends had done to him while they were in school.
In fact, he rather liked Harry. Though he'd lost interest in him fairly quickly after realizing that, outside of Defense Against the Dark Arts, he was an altogether average student.
He'd never be anything like Hermione, the girl that he'd met on the Express who was currently top of their class-or his roommate Tom-who was currently the top of the entire bloody school and on his way to setting record scores-but if he had a want to apply himself he could have probably made it into the upper half of their class.
Maybe later on in his school career, once he'd actually gotten used to this whole 'school' thing, he'd try for that.
Or when his parents got around to jumping on him about his grades and his future career.
For now he was perfectly happy with running on near autopilot, scrapping at least a passing grade and enjoying the Hogwarts experience of House bonds and lasting friendships.
But, of course, nothing in his life ever turned out the way that Harry hoped it would and being thrown into the snake pit had put a considerable wrench in his plans.
Had things proceeded as expected he'd have gone into Gryffindor like every other blood Potter before him. Would be warm and happy high in the tower of red and gold, rooming with Ron and most probably a handful of others and spending nights and break periods socializing in the cozy common room with the other Lions.
Instead he was stuck in a double dorm with a taciturn to the point of being antisocial super genius second year who would most likely grow up to be a prolific serial murderer and he, Harry, probably wouldn't survive the year. Would likely meet his end either by being strangled to death in his sleep for accidentally touching his things or would be tossed off the owlry tower when his persistent attempts to befriend him became too much for his patience to bare.
It seemed like all Tom ever did when he wasn't studying or in class was read tomes of suspicious origin and mutter darkly to himself.
Harry's efforts to help him had gone over about as well as had been expected; though Tom eventually accepted the food Harry's mother sent for him, begrudgingly, he showed his thanks with a merciless round of Stinging Hexes.
He'd probably have had an easier time force-feeding a very angry Nargle milk.
Harry had been too afraid, with the stigma attached to being a snake and the red head's own sentiments about Slytherin House, to approach Ron-or any of this other friends for that matter-and could practically feel himself wilting like an un-watered flower. Yet Tom seemed perfectly fine despite having no friends and being constantly hounded and bullied. Whenever he was jeered at he held his head high and his shoulders set back. Whenever he was assaulted he walked away, but Harry never missed the flash of malice that lingered in his dark eyes for hours afterwards.
He felt sorry for Tom, he really did, but knew better than to voice it. Or to think about it when Tom was around because he was beginning to suspect that his roommate was capable of reading his mind and would rather not have his eyes gouged out with an Herbology trowel, thank you.
He'd tried to study in their dorm room but the aura of ruffled annoyance radiating from his roommate and the temptation of the sunlight spilling through the green water had made it impossible to sit inside. So he'd taken his textbook and gone to sit outside on the bank of the lake in the hopes that it would make the process of studying easier.
It hadn't.
In fact, it had made him even more distracted.
The forbidden forest hissed and sighed in the cool wind. The distant green mountains and fluffy white clouds reflected against the rippling surface of the long dark lake. Tilting his head up towards the sun the little raven closed his eyes to bask in the warmth.
He didn't notice the sound of approaching figures but a gentle push which nearly sent him toppling off of the rock he'd perched on.
Clutching onto his text book to keep from dropping it, Harry resettled himself on his perch and turned his head to come face to face with Ron.
"Mind explaining why you've been avoiding us, mate?" despite currently being a scrawny first year the red head was able to cut a considerably intimidating figure when he was perturbed. Hermione and Neville had come down with him and were now watching the pair with mild interest.
"Avoiding you?" Harry repeated, not really knowing what else he could say. "I haven't been."
"Well, what would you call what you've been doing then?"
Harry stared at his long time best friend for a moment and then shifted uncomfortably on the rock. "I didn't…I thought that you wouldn't want to have anything to do with me now."
"Bloody hell, mate! Why? Because that barmy hat put you in Slytherin? Don't be stupid."
"But you hate Slytherin. You've always made that clear. And the hat-."
"The hat made a mistake, that's all it was. Scoot over."
"Ronald, he's studying; we shouldn't disturb him."
Ron and Neville both sent her rather indignant looks and Harry probably would have done the same if he hadn't been so busy smiling.
"Oh, no. I'm not." He quickly hid the book behind his back. "I already finished all my studying."
The bushy brunet didn't appear convinced by his excuse but was clearly not about to bother attempting to argue the matter any further. She and Neville, who was once again clinging on to Trevor in the hopes of preventing his familiar from taking a flying leap into the Black Lake, went to join them on the rock.
"Careful, Harry," the pudgy faced blonde adjusted his grip on the struggling toad, "if you smile any wider your face will freeze like that."
If that were to happen Harry was sure that Tom wouldn't be impressed.
Though his reaction might still have been an interesting thing to see.
Provided that said reaction was anything more than a judgmental stare that would have looked well at home on Hedwig.
"I can't help it," he said, shuffling to the side to make more room on top of the rock. "It's been a really long time since I've been able to talk to anyone. The Professors don't count."
"Well, you shouldn't have hidden from us every time we tried to get near enough to talk to you." Hermione pushed her hair out of her face. "Just because you were put into a House that has a bad reputation doesn't mean that everyone around you is irrational enough to attach that reputation to you without reason."
"She can be an annoying know it all but she's not at the top of our class for no reason." Ron grumbled, slumping slightly against the raven's shoulder to make his own position on the rock a bit more comfortable. "She corrected me the other day on my pronunciation of Wingardium Leviosa!"
"Well pardon me Ron; next time I'll just let you end up singed like Finnigan!"
"A mispronunciation isn't going to automatically make me end up like Seamus, Hermione!"
The blonde and the raven both snickered. Harry pulled off his glasses to clean them on his robes.
"Did you go to the try outs for the Slytherin team, Harry?" Ron asked, clearly grasping at straws in an attempt to change the subject. "The Gryffindor team looks pretty good this year."
"No, I didn't go." He resituated his glasses on his face. "Being in Slytherin is…complicated. I'm not 'hated' by House but I'm not loved by them either. They're too focused on my roommate to really notice me. Maybe that would change if that wasn't the case. I'd rather not put myself in that situation."
"Is Draco still a prat?"
"It's in his nature, isn't it? But I don't really see him that often."
The red head made of a dismissive sound and turned his head in the direction of the Quidditch pitch. The goal posts were visible, gleaming golden in the sun. "It's a shame we can't play until our second year."
"I think it's perfectly reasonable." Hermione said. "We're first years; flying class is mandatory for a reason! I've read about Quidditch; the last thing someone who doesn't know how to fly in a proper capacity needs is to have to worry about scoring or defending goals, avoiding bludgers and finding a snitch! Not to mention that the time commitment being on a House team would require would only cut in to study time and have a detrimental effect on academic performance."
"Academic performance?" Ron sounded absolutely horrified. "Blimey Hermione! Not all of us are harboring dreams of finding a career as a walking library after we graduate from school!"
"Do you think that you'll try out for the Slytherin team once we're in our second year?" Neville asked him. Trevor croaked loudly in a demand for freedom which went entirely ignored. "I've seen you in our flying classes. We all have. You're a natural! And wasn't your dad a Seeker?"
"He was. For Gryffindor. And I grew up flying so being good at the class isn't some glorious achievement; my Godfather Sirius got me my first toy broom when I was barely one." He said. "And I love Quidditch but…I don't know. My parents say that they're fine with the House I've been sorted into but I'm not certain my dad would be pleased to have his oldest son playing Seeker for the rival team."
"That's hardly a reason not to play. Especially in your position, Harry. It might give your House reason to respect you if you win a few games for Slytherin's team." Hermione said diplomatically, flipping open the book that she'd brought out with her. "It's actually rather smart."
"I thought you said-!"
"Those were reasons that I wouldn't want to play but, like you said, not everyone has plans of 'becoming a walking library'." She sniffed. Off in the distance across the lake dark clouds had begun to gather on the horizon. "It looks like it's going to start raining soon; we should head inside before it comes down. I'm sure that we'll be able to find plenty of space to finish this conversation in the library."
Ron and Neville both groaned at the mere thought of going to the library, especially with Hermione, but Harry hadn't been in contact with her for long enough to know any better and didn't much like the thought of being rained on. He quickly got up from the rock.
"Hermione's right. We should go inside before it starts to rain." The two other boys shot him looks of betrayal as the bushy brunet jumped off the rock as well, but they followed them regardless. Somewhat reluctantly. "Do any of you have plans for Samhain or are you staying at the castle."
"Halloween, you mean? I'm just going to stay at the castle; my parents are Muggles and getting home and back to school in only a weekend is a bit too much." She said. "I read about Samhain; the rituals illegal now, isn't it?"
"Well…on paper." Harry said. "But most people who are Pureblood or Halfblood still practice it; meaning all of the holiday rituals: Samhain, Beltane, Yule and Midsummer. My dad's an Auror, he works for the Ministry, so that should tell you how mainstream it really is."
"But aren't they Dark Magic?"
"No, not at all. They're just…old. A lot of the traditional celebrations involve small blood sacrifices. Blood Magic. It doesn't look good for a 'Light' country like Britain to openly condone."
"I've been doing it for years with my parents and Gran." Neville said, falling into step on Harry's other side. "There are a lot of different variations of the ritual and yeah, there are some really Dark ones that involve human sacrifice and deserve to be banned, but most of what's practiced now involves throwing apples into a fire. Are you two going home?"
"I'm staying for the Halloween feast; I've heard the food is amazing."
Typical Ron.
"My family always makes the holidays a big 'thing'." Harry said as they headed up the front steps of the castle. "My parents friends all come over and we have a little party after the ritual in question. Sirius always causes some calamity with mistletoe if it's Yule. There's a lot of awkward tension because my 'Uncle' is really really good friends with my Mum but hates my father and his friends and can't really stand to be in the same room together for more than five minutes so…"
"Snapes a git; I sympathize with you, mate. I do. But I'd rather not be the one to have to deal with him, so better you than me."
The other two snickered. Harry sighed. "Thanks, Ron."
The four of them claimed a table as far from the watchful eyes and ears of the ferocious librarian; Harry spied Tom sitting kitty corner to them, his back faced their direction as he hunched over a book like a wolf atop a fresh kill.
"What are you looking at?" Hermione turned her head to follow her gaze. When her eyes landed on Tom her expression set into one of disapproval. "Oh. It's that rude boy from the Express."
"That's Tom." Harry said. "My roommate."
"Your roommate?" Ron repeated, voice verging on dangerously loud. "You mean to say that all the weeks you've been avoiding us over your Sorting you've had no one but that git for company?"
"He's not that bad." Not true. "I feel sorry for him, really." Very true. "They call him the 'Mudblood of Slytherin' even though he's a Halfblood and he's dog-piled constantly. And Dumbledore seems to have something against him." It was strange, really. Teachers weren't supposed to be so antagonistic towards their students. Adults weren't supposed to say that children were beyond saving. "He's been acting really strange for a while now."
"Well, he is starting to get up in years." Neville said. "And he's known to be eccentric."
This went far beyond 'eccentric' but the raven didn't currently feel up to pressing the matter further.
His attention was pulled to the two snickering fifth years that had crept up behind Tom and now crouched behind a shelf, wands drawn. The one of the right, grinning maliciously, summoned a long tawny snake and set it slithering towards him spitting furiously. They darted off before the fall out could take place.
"Stupid two legs with their stupid sparking sticks! Take me from my burrow, will they? I'll show them! That young two-legs there looks good for biting; his ankles bare beneath his robe!"
Harry was about to call out a warning when Tom pulled up his feet as if he's also understood the serpent's words-a Puff Adder most likely; he'd seem one at the Muggle Zoo before but couldn't quite be sure-and turned his head towards it.
"I'm sorry for those buffoons having disturbed you, Serpent. May I ask your name?"
Had the snake been able to make human expressions it would have probably worn the same one as Harry currently was, its thick body rearing back in surprise. "Speaker!"
Tom could speak to snakes, like him! Was his tongue forked, too? Was that what the Sorting Hat had meant by 'Adder Tongue'?
"I am." He said calmly, then repeated "do you have a name?" and offered his arm.
"I am Kumasi, Speaker. What is your name; I should know it, now that you're to be my two-legs."
He saw the other boy come within a hair's breadth of cracking a smile. "I am Tom."
"A Parselmouth." Ron said sourly, leveling a glare at the second year and the snake as Tom went about packing his things. "No wonder Dumbledore has something against that little bleeder! He's a Dark Wizard; that's what it means to have the ability to speak to snakes! Salazar Slytherin could do it too."
Just when Harry thought he'd dodged a bullet another one was fired from the barrel. The little raven curled his tongue further back into his mouth and sank a bit further down in his chair.