The Feast

Talking with your mouth full is considered bad manners, but this was nothing anyone was interested in on this evening. Vis-à-vis Albus sat Jennifer Morgan, the red-haired girl he already knew from the train.

"Tell me," he asked her slightly mumbling, "are you related to the Weasleys?"

She laughed. "You won't believe it, but you can have red hair without being a Weasley. My mother is a witch, maybe we have some common ancestor with the Weasleys in the Middle Ages, but I don't know anything about it."

However, most of the conversation in the hall was on Bernard Wildfellow.

"Something like that never happened before. We actually had Mudbloods sometimes," Scorpius mumbled, "but at least they could do magic," he hastily added when he noticed Albus was scowling, "and some of them were highly talented, really good wizards" – he was visibly trying to make forget his faux pas and reconcile Albus – "but if the Sorting Hat rejects one, he must be completely talentless."

"I suppose so," Albus agreed, "he's here with a special permission from the Ministry."

Scorpius talked just like Albus had been afraid he would, but he didn't want to argue on the first evening. He stood up and asked an older student how to get to the toilet.

On his way back he met Rose. Yet before he could address her, she hissed "Have fun with your Slytherins!" and rushed past him with an expression of insult. Completely perplexed, Albus stopped dead. "Rose!" he called after her, but she ignored it.

He glanced over to the Gryffindor table. His eyes met his brother's, who glared at him and told him, just with a jerk of his head towards the Slytherin table: You better get back to your Slytherins!

When he slunk back to his seat, brooding and sad, he heard Roy MacAllister say to Julian: "That's just like Hermie – to send a Muggle to Hogwarts by special decree, just to harp on about principles!"

Obviously, he was talking about Hermione.

"But this way she's not doing the boy any favours!" Julian replied angrily. "That guy has no chance to get along here."

"Hermie doesn't want to do anyone any favours, she wants to impose her plans and principles, by hook or by crook. This year it's one Muggle, next year it's ten, the year after next it's a hundred. And then it's not them who have to get along with us, but us with them. Play Quidditch as long as you can, pretty soon you'll only be allowed to play football to avoid the Muggles feeling 'discriminated'."

Albus walked by. What on earth had led the Sorting Hat to send him to this house, where one spoke in that contemptuous tone of Hermione and another talked about "Mudbloods"? Sighing, he slumped back into the seat next to Scorpius Malfoy.

"Albus," Scorpius asked compassionately, "what's the matter, you're looking so gloomy?"

"Oh," Albus sighed, "my own brother and my best friend are avoiding me just because I'm a Slytherin now."

Scorpius took his hand and pressed it for a moment. "I'm sure they are just upset because we are so excited. This will go by. Don't worry, you won't lose your friends because of Slytherin, but you will make many new ones here. Look around you: There's no one here who doesn't like you."

Albus knew Scorpius' father had been a real nasty braggart, and he never would have believed a Malfoy could be so kind and sensitive. Anyway, Scorpius' words were balm on Albus' wounds. Yes, it was true: The Slytherins, including Scorpius, obviously liked him, though he didn't yet really know why.

Regardless of his pleasant manner, Scorpius was a Malfoy through and through, and not only because of his physical resemblance to his father. He was proud of his descent from an ancient wizarding dynasty, but this pride didn't manifest itself in the form of arrogance, but in his affinity for solemn words that sounded somewhat precocious, even downright comical, as they were the words of an eleven-year-old. He said things like: "We shall do honour to the House of Slytherin." Albus had to suppress his grin, but he noticed that Scorpius was already speaking of them both as "we" and when Albus silently wondered if he could become a good friend, the answer he gave himself – albeit still hesitantly – was yes.

After the feast was over, Professor McGonagall returned to the lectern to introduce the teachers: Neville Longbottom, Head of Gryffindor, taught the subject of Herbology, Rubeus Hagrid was Care of Magical Creatures professor, Head of Slytherin Charles Whiteman taught Potions, Cuthbert Binns, the only ghost in the staff, History of Magic. At this point a low but unmistakable groan spread through the ranks, for Binns' teaching was notoriously boring, but since he was a ghost who never aged, he would probably never retire. Ernie Macmillan was Hufflepuff's Head. He taught Transformation. Head of Ravenclaw was still, and regardless of his age, Filius Flitwick, Professor of Charms. Divination teacher was the centaur Firenze.

"There are two newcomers this year I am pleased to introduce to you, both of whom kindly granted a leave of absence by the Ministry for a term at Hogwarts," McGonagall continued. "One is Professor Gracchus Barclay from the Auror Department for Defense Against the Dark Arts, the other is Professor Meredith Richardson, who previously worked in the Department of Relations with the Non-Magical World. She will teach Muggle Studies."

Both teachers rose and bowed while the students were applauding. Significantly, the applause from the Gryffindors was particularly loud, while the Slytherins rather gave an applause of politeness. It was known that both professors had been educated in Gryffindor in the eighties.

The Headmistress ended her speech with the usual reminders: She told the students that wilful spellcasting was forbidden, magically doing harm to others was punishable by expulsion from Hogwarts, and no student was allowed to enter the Forbidden Forest without being asked to do so and accompanied by a teacher. Finally, she announced that the Quidditch tryouts would take place on the next two days.

After her speech, the first-years of the four houses lined up to be led to their common rooms by their Prefects. The Slytherins' rooms were deep in the basements of the castle.

"Access to our common room," Patricia explained when they stopped in front of the door, "is protected by a spell. This relief" – she pointed to a huge stone slab in which the relief of a cobra was carved, of which only the head with the distinctive neck shield stood out against the slab – "is a flesh memory, recognising everyone who ever has touched it before. Each of yours will place your hand on the head of the cobra for magical identification. The spell I am practising then will identify you to the snake as Slytherins and give you access forever."

"Is that new?" asked Scorpius pertly. "My father didn't tell me about it."

"This slab with the relief is ancient," Patricia replied. "Some believe it was made and enchanted by Salazar Slytherin himself. It formed the entrance to our rooms until the forties of the twentieth century and was then removed during a reconstruction. After the Battle of Hogwarts, it was rediscovered intact in the remnants of the Room of Requirement and reinstalled here. So, your father couldn't know it. – Albus," she said with a smile, "you are the first."

He was a little sick to his stomach, the snake's head looked pretty scary. Nevertheless, he obeyed, stepped forward, put his hand on the head – and flinched:

"Good evening, Albus Potter, welcome to Slytherin." The voice seemed to come from the serpent. Albus looked around, startled, but Patricia reassured him:

"The hissing is normal, after all it is a snake, though an enchanted one."

Albus was confused, he was sure he had heard a voice, not a hiss. But since no one else seemed to be surprised, he just nodded and put his hand that had flinched from the snake firmly back on its head. Patricia now drew her wand, placed it vertically on the back of his hand, and closed her eyes in concentration. After a moment, small, bright blue snakes seemed to come out of the wand's tip and crawled first over his hand, finally disappearing into the cobra's throat. Albus looked at Patricia, she nodded at him, he pressed against the head, and the door swung open.

"Close the door behind you once you're inside, the others need to be identified too," Patricia asked him, and Albus did as told.