Harry felt a bit dazed when McGonnagal took the hat off his head. He barely noticed her encouraging nod towards Slytherin, or the strange noise that was the sound of only one table cheering. His eyes went to his father, but Snape was looking out across the hall, his eyes far away. It was only after Dumbledore nudged him with his elbow that Snape even started clapping.

            He made his way to the Slytherin table. After reading Hogwarts: A History (or at least the first few chapters), he had expected the Sorting Hat to want to put him in Slytherin. He was a parselmouth after all, and if they were rare one thousand years ago, than who knew how long it had been since the hat had actually sorted another parselmouth.

            The truth was he wasn't sure what to think of his sorting. He hadn't really preferred one house over the others, and even his request to go into Gryffindor hadn't been because he thought he wanted, or belonged to be there. The Sorting Hat itself had told him he could go into any house…

            "My name's Draco Malfoy," said a voice, breaking through his thoughts. Harry absentmindedly shook the pale-haired boy's hand. The name Malfoy sounded familiar, and wasn't this the same boy that Josiah had pointed out earlier? "These are Vincent and Gregory." Draco gestured at two large, and dull looking boys sitting across from him. Since Harry hadn't introduced himself, Draco took it upon himself to do it for him.

            "And you're Harry Potter. We all know you. I don't know what anyone's told you, but Slytherin is the best house. We don't have any riffraff like mud-muggle-borns or even half-breeds here." Draco's tone struck Harry as familiar. It took him a moment to realize where he had heard it before. It was the same tone his uncle used every time he mentioned how good 'normal' people were compared to freaks like Harry.

            "My mother was a muggle-born," Harry pointed out, annoyed at the boy's unthinking words.

            "Well, yes," faltered Draco. "But you're Harry Potter." He seemed to think that that explained everything. Harry shook his head at Draco's incomprehension and turned to look at the High Table again. Dumbledore was just getting up to say his opening speech. It was the utter nonsense that Harry had come to expect of the Headmaster, and he was grinning when the feast appeared.

            "Why were you late for the feast, Harry?" asked Draco curiously. Harry noticed that everyone within hearing was listening for his answer.

            "I," he said, his mind racing to think of a plausible answer. "I was locked in one of the classrooms by Peeves." He looked down as if he was embarrassed. "I guess Dumbledore figured out what happened and came to let me out. I wish I knew how he found me." Harry clamped his mouth shut, aware that he was starting to babble. Would they believe him? Draco seemed to at least.

            "Who's Peeves?" he asked.

            "Our resident poltergeist. He will be reprimanded," said a sombre voice. Harry was startled to see that it came from the Bloody Baron who was sitting on the other side of Draco.  

            Harry occupied himself with eating, stealing glances at the High Table when he could. His father was surveying the Slytherin table, but his eyes rested on Harry no longer than they did on any other student. Harry took the hint and looked at the rest of the staff table. There was a teacher next to Snape that he hadn't seen before. A pale-faced man in a purple turban that seemed too large for his head to support. That must be Professor Quirrell. He hadn't arrived until late last night, so Harry hadn't had a chance to meet him.

            Harry idly watched him take a sip of his pumpkin juice. His hand was trembling so badly he spilled half of it onto his robes. Quirrell turned to speak to Professor Sinistra on his left and Harry felt a jolt of pain in his forehead. His hand went automatically to his scar. For a moment, it had felt just like it had when he was in Gringotts. What had just happened? He spent the rest of the feast watching Quirrell and ignoring Draco's attempts to draw him into conversation. Nothing happened though, and he was surprised to see his father and Quirrell talking with each other just before Dumbledore stood up to speak again.

            He warned them against going into the Forbidden Forest and about the third-floor corridor on the right hand side. Harry remembered Snape telling him not to go into either of those places, though going into the forest with Hagrid was okay so long as he told someone. Harry was curious what was on the third-floor. He suspected that it had something to do with what Hagrid had fetched for Dumbledore since he hadn't been told about the restriction until after his birthday trip to Diagon Alley and the incident at Gringotts. A cautious check by Josiah had revealed that the room was ghost proofed so Harry had decided to leave it alone for now.

Dumbledore sent them to bed after they sang the school song. The noise was tremendous, but Harry thought it was much improved on Dudley's boring Smelting's song which he had heard sung thousands of times in Dudley's off-key voice, accompanied by Aunt Petunia's melodramatic sobbing about how beautiful it was.

            The first-year Slytherin's were told to follow their prefect down to the Slytherin Common Room, but it occurred to Harry that all his stuff was still in the Green Room. He followed the group for a little while since they were heading in the proper direction, but just as he was going to break away Draco put a hand on his shoulder.

            "Stick with me, Harry," he whispered over the prefect who was talking about house pride and the breaking of rules. "My father's told me all about this place. I'll show you around." Harry jerked his shoulder out of Draco's grip.

            "Thank you, but I think I can find my own way," he said curtly, before ducking down a side corridor. He waited for the yell that would mean Draco had tattled on him, but it didn't come. Relieved, Harry set off towards the Green Room. Josiah's head popped out of his watch sending the familiar icy chill through Harry's body.

            "Welcome to Slytherin," said the ghost. He seemed to be in a good mood.

            "Are all Slytherin's so concerned about bloodlines and all that junk?" he demanded of Josiah. The ghost's smile faded.

            "Most of them are," he admitted. "My family certainly was, though the pure-bloods in the other houses are almost as bad." It took a moment for Josiah's comment to sink in.

            "You were in Slytherin?" Harry was surprised, though more with himself than with Josiah. He had known the ghost for over a month, yet it had never occurred to him to ask what house Josiah had been in.

            "You can tell me something about Slytherin than," he said. Josiah got the distant look he always got when Harry asked something he didn't want to answer.

            "Maybe. They're not the happiest of my memories." Josiah placed a ghostly hand over the silver patch of blood that obscured his school badge. Somehow, it felt like the corridor had gotten colder.

            "Josiah. How did you die?" whispered Harry. Josiah got an alarmed look on his face and dove into the watch. A few seconds later, the Bloody Baron floated by and nodded a greeting to Harry. Harry hurried on towards the Green Room. He meant to ask Josiah the question again as soon as he got the chance, but somehow the time never seemed quite right.

*****

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