Disclaimer: "Let me rip, let me tear. Blood, I SMELL BLOOD! But I don't own Harry Potter."
Author's notes: Thank you for your reviews; they pleased me greatly and now I feel like a million bucks (not that I know what a million bucks feels like). I LOVE YOU ALL!
Harry sat down in the Slytherin common room; it was around four o'clock in the morning, and no one was awake. He settled comfortably into a chair and pulled out Midnight Magic, which he quickly became engrossed in.
Severus Snape made his way down to the Slytherin common room; it was his custom to greet the students on the first day of classes—and to intimidate them into obedience.
Harry had just finished chapter five in his book when he heard the sound of stones grating against each other. He looked up and was surprised to see Severus Snape come through. Rising out of his chair, he greeted him: "Hello, Professor."
Professor Snape raised his eyebrows. "Good morning, Mr. Black. Why are you up so early?"
"I'm an early riser."
Snape nodded. "As am I."
They stood there for a moment in uncomfortable silence. Then,
"Sir, I would like to thank you for bringing my father's body back to his family."
Snape was silent for a moment. "It was the least I could do."
Harry nodded, "Sir, why did he die?"
"Excuse me?"
"I know he was killed by Voldemort, but I don't why"
Snape's face froze. He looked around the common room and whispered, "The Dark Lord knew there was a spy in the ranks. He captured your father in hope of revealing the spy. Needless to say, the Dark Lord was not pleased when he refused. He tortured him to the brink of death and then he gave him to me…. The Dark Lord already suspected me…after all, I was teaching in Hogwarts. I performed the Cruor Hostis ceremony and then I killed him."
"The 'Blood of the enemy' ritual?"
"We hated each other in school; it was enough to perform the ceremony."
"In death…honor."
"Yes."
"Thank you."
Snape nodded.
"All right, everyone, pay attention. You are all Slytherins, and you will behave as such. Any quarrels you have with someone in the house will stay in the house—do you understand?"
He waited for the nods before continuing: "With regard to their interactions with students of other houses, I try to be a little tolerant with my Slytherins. If I don't hear anything, it didn't happen. But if you get caught by another teacher, you will face the consequences." Again the nods. "Good. Now go to breakfast and remember: Slytherin must present a cold face to the rest of the school; do not let them see weakness." The older years nodded, but most of the first years looked confused.
"Why do you think he said that?"
Harry turned around and saw Draco standing there. "I'd think that obvious."
"Well I don't."
Harry snorted, "Slytherin has always been the hated house, the feared, the ridiculed. Therefore, we have to stick together—even if we hate each other. In public, we must be as one."
"Oh, that was obvious, wasn't it?"
"Lets go to breakfast. I memorized the way last night"
The first week of classes was…eventful, to say the least. And many of Harry's classmates were upset to find out that there was more to magic than saying a few silly words and waving a wand about.
Astronomy was taught in the tallest tower on Wednesdays (technically Thursdays since the classes were taught at midnight after all).
They had to go out to the greenhouses three times a week to attend Herbology, a class that was taught by an exceptionally dirty woman named Professor Sprout.
History of Magic was the only class taught by a ghost and was quite boring; most people had trouble staying awake.
Charms was taught by a man so short that he had to stand on a pile of books just to see the top of his desk and who seemed to have a particular soft spot for Harry (which, Harry suspected, was rooted with his mother).
The formidable Professor McGonagall taught Transfiguration. On the first day after she called roll, she turned her desk into a giant pig and then back again. After that, they took complicated notes, and then she gave them a match that they were to turn into a needle. By the end of class, Harry was the only one who had accomplished this—his grandmother had already taught him what she knew about the subject—and Slytherin was awarded ten points.
The class that everyone had looked forward to most was Defense against the Dark Arts. (Draco Malfoy could be heard in the common room shouting, "Why do we need to know how to defend against them?!") However, they soon found it to be a joke. Professor Quirrell, who taught the class, was afraid of his own shadow (even going so far as to have no light in his classroom so he could avoid seeing it, or only to have a light in front of him so that it would be behind him). Needless to say, the students quickly dismissed him as a fraud.
And then it was Friday.
"What do we have today, Harry?"
"Double Potions with the Gryffindors."
"Doesn't Snape teach potions?"
"Yes. According to the rumor mill, he favors the Slytherins, so this class should be enjoyable to say the least."
The Potions classroom was in the Dungeons. It was a dark, dank place devoid of all warmth except for that given off by the cauldron fires. They shuffled in, the Slytherins on the left and the Gryffindors on the right. The Gryffindors shifting around nervously, while the Slytherins sat on their uncomfortable chairs as if they were thrones.
Suddenly Snape swept into the room and made his way to the front of the class. After telling them to put away their wands, he started calling roll. He made it through the Slytherins quickly, but when it came to the Gryffindors he took time to comment.
"Hmmm, another Weasley…probably as incompetent as the rest."
Harry could barely contain his laughter.
"Weasley!" Snape proceeded to ask questions that no regular first year could know, after which, he smirked: "Tut, tut, Weasley, didn't you even think to open a book before coming to Hogwarts?"
Yes, Harry thought, this'll be a very enjoyable class.
Author's notes: The "Blood of the Enemy" ritual is a very old custom, dating back to when nominal enemies were often in fact friends (for example, competing families that had intermarried). It was created to give the ill or infirm honorable deaths (at the hands of their enemy with their enemy's blood on their hands). The ceremony is a short one, which can only end in death.
In the case of Severus and Sirius, Severus put a dagger in Sirius's hand and impaled himself on it. He then positioned the dagger over Sirius's heart and drove it through, giving his enemy an honorable death.