Chapter Two - That Night (A Boring Chapter)
(A/N: Bet you've been waiting excitedly for this chapter, eh?
Yeah, right.)
Last time…
'Courage stands out, you've got quite a lot of it…but more ambition…hmm…Gryffindor would suit you, but you could be even greater in SLYTHERIN!'
The Great Hall was suddenly very silent.
'Slytherin?' someone hissed angrily – probably Ron, he thought.
He took off the hat and walked shakily to the Slytherin table, feeling every single eye on him. He sat down next to Draco.
Professor McGonagall's voice broke the silence.
'Turpin, Lisa!'
Harry briefly wondered what happened to the 'Q's, 'R's, and 'S's. Such as 'Smith' or' Rodriguez' or…'Quack'?
Er…yeah.
Lisa Turpin stepped forward, but the Hall remained silent and staring at Harry. Then the usual buzz of chatter broke out, but Harry knew it was all about him.
Lisa Turpin was sorted into Ravenclaw and then it was Ron's turn. Harry watched avidly, trying to ignore the eyes on him as the hat dropped over Ron's eyes.
'GRYFFINDOR!' the hat shouted. Harry sighed disappointedly that Ron wasn't in the same house he was, but Ron probably wouldn't want to be in Slytherin anyway.
Ron collapsed into a chair at the Gryffindor table and looked at Harry, who smiled nervously at him. Ron looked down at his empty plate and the smile slid off Harry's face. He could see Percy congratulating him and darting nervous glances over to Harry at the same time as 'Zabini, Blaise' was made a Slytherin and slid into a seat next to Draco.
'Never thought I'd see the day,' said Blaise.
Harry looked at him. 'What?'
'Well, you didn't think you'd be sorted into Slytherin, did you?' Blaise said.
'Well…no,' said Harry.
'I thought so.
'What have you heard about Slytherin so far, Potter?'
Harry hesitated. He wasn't sure if he wanted to tell him about that. Luckily, he was interrupted by Professor Dumbledore stood up.
'Welcome! Welcome to another new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our magnificent feast, I would like to say a few words. And they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
'Thank you!'
Dumbledore sat down. Harry stared.
'Is he – a bit mad?' he asked Draco uncertainly.
Draco snorted. 'That's an understatement.'
Harry nodded very slowly, not really understanding, and his mouth fell open, noticing the piles of food on the dishes in front of him.
He shook himself and took a bit of everything except the mint humbugs and began to eat.
'Hungry, aren't you?' commented Draco, looking at his full plate.
Harry nodded, not stopping.
He paused for breath when he was a quarter of the way through and caught Ron's eye from the Gryffindor table. As soon as eye contact was made, Ron looked away.
Harry sighed. If Ron was going to be like this, then so be it. He couldn't force him to be his friend, after all. He looked up at the High Table where the teachers were sitting and the first thing he noticed was Professor Quirrell and his really stupid turban thingy. He was talking to another teacher, who had greasy hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin.
The hooked-nosed teacher looked at him – and he felt a jolt of pain in his scar.
'Ouch!' Harry clapped a hand to his forehead.
'What?' said Draco sharply, looking at him.
'Uh – nothing, nothing…'
Draco looked at him suspiciously, but said nothing.
'Er – Draco, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?' Harry asked. He had the strong suspicion that the professor didn't like him.
Draco looked up at the High Table. 'Professor Snape,' he said shortly. 'Teaches Potions. Head of Slytherin House,' and he resumed eating.
When everyone had eaten their fill, the last of the desserts disappeared and Professor Dumbledore stood up again.
'Before we retire to bed, I have a few start-of-year announcements I'd like to make.
'First-years should note that the forest in the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would be wise to remember that as well.'
Harry could've sworn he glanced at the Weasley twins as he said that.
'Mr Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.
'Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.
'Finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a very painful death.'
Harry laughed at this, but his laughter died away as he noticed few others were laughing.
'He – he's not serious?' he muttered to Draco.
Draco shrugged.
'Now, before we retire, let us sing the school song!' Dumbledore cried merrily. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Snape wasn't even bothering with the happy expression.
(A/N: Blah blah blah, sing the school song, blah blah blah, you've read it all before.)
'Ah, music,' said Dumbledore, wiping a tear from his eye. 'A magic beyond all that we do here. And now, bedtime. Off you trot!'
The Slytherin first-years followed a prefect down, down, down to the dark, cold dungeons. Harry shivered involuntarily.
They stopped by a completely blank stone wall.
'Calx pur sang astrum,' said the prefect, and a stone door that Harry hadn't noticed before slid open. They walked through it.
The common room's walls and ceiling were made of stone and round lamps with a slight greenish tint to them were hanging from the ceiling. There was already a fire blazing under an elaborately carved mantelpiece, and the chairs also seemed to be carved out of stone.
Harry thought it looked very…well, cold. It wasn't very welcoming, that was for sure.
The prefect directed the girls up one narrow, twisting stone staircase and the boys up another – well, at least now Harry knew why they'd walked down so far.
Harry walked behind Draco and Blaise up the stairs and found their dormitory. There were five four-posters, thankfully not carved out of stone, from which hung dark green velvet curtains. Their trunks were already there.
They didn't have the energy to talk much. They pulled on their pyjamas and climbed into bed. Harry fell asleep almost immediately.
Perhaps it was all the food he'd eaten, because he had a very odd dream. He dreamt that he was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he must transfer to Slytherin at once – which didn't make sense, he was already in Slytherin, wasn't he? – because it was his destiny. He tried to pull it off, but it grew tighter and tighter on his head, giving him THE worst headache – then he saw Draco, laughing at him – why? – then he became Professor Snape, whose laugh became high and cold – well, that made sense, sort of – there was a bright flash of green light and Harry woke up, sweating and shaking.
He fell asleep again, and when he woke up again the next morning, he didn't remember the dream at all.
(A/N: I just couldn't make up my mind about the password…should I use 'pur sang', which means 'pure blood' in French, 'astrum', which means 'star' in Latin, or 'calx', which means 'stone' in Latin?
So I thought, what the heck, why not use all three.
Please review!)