"Now, we have some ground rules for this house," Castella began, the first years gathered around her silently. Across the room, the older students were in their own meeting, lead by a seventh year boy. Castella had beckoned the first years to their own corner of the common room, arranging them around her with orders to shut up and listen carefully.
"First of all, we already have the odds stacked against us. It's not fair, we all know it, but you all need to suck it up and deal with it, because I will cast an Unforgivable before I hear a Slytherin whining outside of this common room."
"All of the teachers, except our Head of House, Professor Snape, detest Slytherins," Pansy whispered to Hermione. "My mum told me they all think we are evil, untrustworthy snakes. It's because Slytherin has the most dark witches and wizards by far, so everyone is scared of us."
"What stupidity," Hermione whispered back, causing Pansy to grin. Hermione did not understand the aims of her fellow student and her quick change of attitude, but so long as Pansy was decent, Hermione saw no issue between them. She actually enjoyed the banter, despite being unused to getting along with others.
"Secondly," Castella continued, "don't get caught. I don't care what you're doing. I really, really don't give a flying shite if you're jinxing a Hufflepuff or snogging someone in a cupboard. You could be raising dragons on the Astronomy Tower and I wouldn't care one bloody white, unless you limpid fools get caught doing anything."
Castella narrowed her fierce gaze on a rather rotund boy who was beginning to doze off. She pointed her wand and shot a burst of sparks straight into his face, causing him to splutter back into the land of the living. "You have to listen too, you lazy lump of lard," she growled, looking out over the small cluster of first years. "See, if he hadn't had been so obvious with his ridiculous snoring, I wouldn't have noticed and he would happily be off in dreamland, stuffing his face with sweets. But no, he got caught, just like all of you shouldn't be if you want to survive the tempers of the older years."
"So the second rule is thus: do what you want, but don't get caught. Any questions?" Castella's gaze seared into the first-years. "No? Excellent. Rule number three. If you have a problem with another Slytherin, keep it in the common room. We don't need teachers prying into our business, and we definitely don't need some self-righteous Gryffindor seeing a weakness. Any Slytherins caught fighting in public will be given to Snape, without mercy."
This caused numerous students to pale, leading Hermione to wonder about the reputation of their Head of House.
"Lastly, and most importantly, rule number four," Castella said, peering at the first-years seriously. "Stick together."
A boy snorted, and Castella cast a jinx that made him fuse with the boy next to him. "Yes, just like that," she said, twirling her wand, as the boys attempted to unstick themselves.
"I know it sounds like some shite your dear mum spouts off about your family, but listen here, nitwits. No one in Slytherin should allow anyone else to do a Slytherin harm. We take care of our own, and that's what sets us a level above the other houses. Bloody hell if your roommate's great uncle once hexed your third cousin's chicken coop. If any Slytherin lets another one down, this entire house will come for you, and there will be no consequences if you get hurt in an 'accident.' Outside of these rooms, we are an unbreakable unit, with no room for petty squabbling. In these rooms, its fair game. Keep that in mind when you're all pissy at each other around Christmas."
With that, the meeting concluded, and Hermione hurried back to her dorm, ready for a solid night of sleep before her classes. Pansy and the other girls all crawled into bed as well, drawing their privacy curtains around their beds and settling down for the night.
The next day, Hermione would get the first taste of her new school. Her blood hummed in preparation.
After a breakfast in which Malfoy glared impotently at her and Pansy continued to act disturbingly friendly, Hermione sat down in her very first class at Hogwarts: charms.
Professor Flitwick was miniscule. However, his enthusiasm made him seem to tower over his students, bowing them all backward from the force of his adoration for charms. He requested his students to retrieve their textbooks from their bags and set them squarely atop the instruction tables.
"Now," he instructed, moving between his students with care, "charms are a tricky subject, but not so complex as transfiguration, or so ritualistic as potions. Charms is all about memory and intent!"
He slowed to a stop beside one of his students, his attention caught first by her textbook, and then consumed by the faint magical signature emanating from her body. "My, you sure a studious one!" Flitwick said, tapping his wand against the textbook that fluttered with multicolored notes and bookmarks. "Have you already finished the book?"
"Yes, Professor," Hermione admitted, keenly aware of her classmate's eye rolls.
Flitwick sidled closer, trying to get a read on the peculiar magic he could sense, coiled around the student with gleaming complexity. He could almost envision the dexterous threads of many charms, tied into knots meant to conceal some truth he could not divine. However, now was not the time to satisfy his curiosity. No, this was a matter he should take to Dumbledore. A bespelled student was no trifling matter.
Flitwick clapped his hands together. "Ah, excellent! 10 points to Slytherin for preparation!"
The grumbles of her annoyed classmates subsided, and Hermione relaxed a fraction. Being a swot was okay when the benefits were reaped communally.
Flitwick continued his lesson, glancing every once and a while at the bushy-haired girl. Slowly, his students learned to levitate a feather, but the girl picked up the spell frightfully quickly. The professor watched as she directed the feather through the air, lazily flicking her wand.
After assigning more practice for homework, Flitwick dismissed his class and immediately went to see the headmaster. His student was bound tightly in charms and not a small amount of figuration, and Flitwick knew Dumbledore would be very interested in discovering why.
Hermione's second class of the day, Herbology, went as expected. Although she appreciated the advantages of understanding magical and mundane plant lore, she could not force herself to be passionate about it. She was very glad to be out of that class for lunch.
Cowed by Castella's lecture, Malfoy would only glare at her angrily from his side of the table, but Hermione expected a confrontation that night. Luckily for him, someone had removed the rest of her spell before dinner last night. It would have been a laugh to see him with the raggedy Sorting Hat sitting above his prat advertisement in front of the whole school.
Pansy, aware of Draco's ire toward their fellow classmate, shared a quick look with Blaise. The two had discussed the situation after first period, agreeing that Hermione was not a witch they wanted as an enemy so early in the year. However, they reached an impasse on how to handle Draco's virulent hatred toward the witch. Neither of them knew how to sway Draco, and the problem looked bleak. They finally decided to say nothing unless questioned, and just allow Hermione to put the blond ponce in his place, as she inevitably would. Then, maybe they could convince Draco that she was a good witch to have on their side of things.
Delicately spooning a portion of beans onto her plate, Pansy asked Hermione how classes had been for her so far. "Herbology is an unfortunate way to spend my time, but charms is interesting enough," the witch answered. "Potions is next, which I have high hopes for."
"Professor Snape is a taskmaster, but he's the only teacher in the building who favors Slytherin," a second year said.
"Flitwick seemed alright," Blaise chipped in. "He gave Hermione points for being a swot, which is a win in my book."
Draco seethed as his friend offered the muggleborn support. "Yeah, I suppose being insufferable is alright so long as it benefits the rest of us. Otherwise, you would be worse than useless."
Hermione ignored the jibe and stuck her fork into the breaded chicken, slowly taking a bite. She quirked a brow at Malfoy, who stuck his nose in the air and glared resolutely.
"After potions we have a free period, and then transfiguration," Pansy said. "McGonagall is Gryffindor's Head of House, so we shouldn't do anything to make her hate us too early in the year."
Hermione's attention was caught by the mention of the witch who had guided her into this new world. Gryffindor Head of House? Unfortunate, since Gryffindor was the antithesis of Slytherin, according to the rest of her house. But still, she could not deny the admiration she felt for the distinguished professor.
When lunch was dismissed, Hermione followed her fellow Slytherins back into the dungeons. The potions classroom bubbled and simmered with potions in stasis, glowing in flasks and giving off steam. Inhaling, she could tease the scents of herbs from the air, calming compared to the noise of her classmates settling into workstations.
Sitting beside Pansy, Hermione retrieved her cauldron and began to set up her station as the book had described. Pansy copied her diligently and gestured to the other Slytherins to follow suit.
"Have you really read all of our textbooks already?" Pansy asked in bemusement.
"I haven't finished Defence Against the Dark Arts, and Astronomy was useless, so not technically. I try to stay ahead."
"No doubt," Pansy quipped, before a tumbling roar of students bulleted through the door and into the empty stations.
The rambunctious bunch were glad in red and gold, and brought with them an assortment of noise. Exchanging an exasperated look with Pansy at the commotion, Hermione tied her hair back in preparation for class to begin.
Shortly after the Gryffindors had finally managed to seat themselves in some semblance of order, Professor Snape swept into the classroom. His robes billowed like a seeping oil spill as he glared down his hawk-like nose at the red and gold half of the classroom.
"I see that while some of my students are not complete imbeciles and have already prepared a cauldron, others may be more… challenged, as to how to read a simple textbook."
Hermione caught a laugh behind her lips, but she could hear Blaise and Malfoy snickering out loud at the insult. The Gryffindors swelled up in indignation, but Snape had already moved on to a new target.
As she watched her professor belittle the skinny black-haired boy, Harry Potter, Hermione grew curious. What had infuriated her professor to the point of verbally eviscerating a student he had not yet had? However, she knew better than to intervene. The teacher obviously had a vendetta to satisfy, and she would not step between them to lay herself bare for punishment before the entire class.
When Snape's instructions began to scribble across the chalkboard, Hermione and Pansy set to work. Each witch worked diligently, applying themselves to the task at hand. Hermione finished quickly enough to catch Pansy before she made an error.
"You need to mash the flobber worms, not just dice them," she whispered quickly, before Pansy could scrape the ingredient into her cauldron. The black-haired witch startled at the whispered advice, and then slid a piercing blue gaze toward her fellow witch.
So far, Pansy had actively worked to befriend Hermione, regardless of blood status. However, this was a moment to test the muggleborn. Would Hermione turn out to be as catty as other girls and purposely let Pansy fail, or was her advice true, and would she prove to be a Slytherin to the core? While Slytherins were cunning and ambitious, there was the most important rule to consider. They were allies now; later, the Slytherins would begin to compete amongst each other, finished with small games to attract loyal friends. For now, Hermione's offer was genuine.
Pansy laid her cutting board flat, mashed the rest of the flobber worms, and then scraped them into her cauldron. The potion shimmered, and then turned lilac, the exact shade the textbook described.
Yes, perhaps being friends with Hermione was worth flouting an ancient prejudice.
At least for the moment.
Transfiguration the next day was in a classroom much like charms, but for the tabby cat perched authoritatively at the head of the classroom. As soon as all of the students were seated, the cat leapt to the ground and transfigured into their professor, drawing some gasps from the assembled first-years.
"Transfiguration is not easy or simple," Professor McGonagall began. "It requires complex thought and an in-depth understanding of how magic is the shape of will. Can anyone tell me what I mean by that?'
Hermione's hand rose into the air. McGonagall was not surprised to discover the witch had an answer. The professor had been disappointed to see such a bright girl go to Slytherin, but hopefully the muggleborn found some friendly faces to keep herself company, although McGonagall doubted it.
"Yes, Ms. Granger?"
"Magic is the intention to change matter in some way. Witches and wizards use tools such as wands to direct the flow of intent and channel it into a focused burst that enacts a change in the chosen subject. So when you say magic is the shape of will, it means that it is a witch or wizards will that drives a spell to work, shaped using words and tools to accomplish whatever the caster intended."
McGonagall nodded, pleased. "Five points to Slytherin for an astute response. Now, open your textbooks to chapter one, and try to cast the spell to change a toothpick into a needle. I shall demonstrate…."
"Points from the Head of Gryffindor," Daphne Greengrass murmured. "And on the first day, too."
Hermione shrugged, causing her hair to cascade in wild curls around her face. "I already read the textbook," she whispered back, causing Pansy to roll her eyes dramatically and mouth swot. Strangely, the word was becoming more of a compliment than an insult when it came from her fellow Slytherins. Hope bloomed in Hermione's chest at the thought; maybe she wouldn't disappoint her mother. Maybe, these bigoted, prejudiced students would become true friends to her.
She could only hope, but a dark niggling in her heart reminded her to be careful, even as Pansy nodded approvingly when Hermione successfully turned the toothpick to a needle. Her intelligence wouldn't protect her from her housemates forever, no matter how many points she earned. She had to remember to watch her back.
But maybe she could open up a tiny bit, just to Pansy and a few of the other girls. It wouldn't hurt, would it?