4. Our New Celebrity

Dear Dad,

You won't believe what's happened. I got sorted into SLYTHERIN! Yes, SLYTHERIN, of all houses! I'm sorry, but you know what everyone says about Slytherin. Most bad wizards and witches started out here. YOU KNOW WHO was a Slytherin, Merlin's beard! People are going to think I'M a bad witch. And why not? My housemates are awful. There's this girl named Pansy, who treats me like dung because I'm not pureblood. She's the worst, but everyone else (besides this girl named Tracey) is terrible too. No one likes the Slytherins, and our head of house is a foul git. He teaches potions, and he's making me hate the subject.

The rest of my classes aren't so bad. Except for History of Magic. You were right, Professor Binns IS dull, even for a ghost. By the way, I've seen MANY ghosts so far. There's one called Nearly Headless Nick. He pulled his head almost clean off the other day and gave some group of girls a fright, but I thought it was rather funny.

I almost forgot. Any tips for getting through History of Magic? I just can't get into Binns droning on and on. Help me, please!

And guess who's in my class? You never will. It's Harry Potter! THE BOY WHO LIVED! (He's in Gryffindor.) I haven't really talked to him yet, but everyone's just gushing over him. I wish I'd been in Gryffindor. We could've been friends.

Anyway, that's all the news I have so far. Write me back soon. I miss you both.

Love and kisses,

Callie

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Dearest darling daughter,

Congratulations on finally being sorted! You've waited so long for this, and now you know where you belong. I very much can believe that you're a Slytherin. You have many of the qualities Salazar Slytherin valued in his students - intelligence, determination, a strong spirit. You're going to make an excellent addition to your house, and help to show others that Slytherin churns out some of the greatest wizards and witches in the world. Don't ever believe that you are "bad" or wicked. The association between Slytherin and immorality is nothing more than narrow-minded prejudice. And I can think of no one better to prove this kind of thinking wrong than you.

As for your housemates, you will always find people who like to believe that they're better than everyone else, for whatever reason. This too is a fallacy. Just like some of the greatest (and most pure of heart) witches and wizards have been Slytherins, many have also been half-bloods and muggle-borns. Blood purity does not make one a better or more magical person, and anyone who believes this to be true is misinformed. Pay no attention to those who are so uneducated. Or rather, take pity on them.

Don't let your interest in potions be dampered by a less-than-ideal instructor. I myself was still able to enjoy history in spite of Professor Binns' miserable way of teaching. (And I've included a compilation of notes that may help you through History of Magic, along with where you might find more stimulating information on various topics.) Good luck!

Nearly Headless Nick was always an entertaining chap. Oh, and have you met Peeves yet?

Finally, the Boy Who Lived. How exciting to have a living legend in your class. But please, don't make a spectacle of Mr. Potter. The poor lad has already been through a lifetime's worth of heartache at such a young age. Remember, he may be one the most famous people in the wizarding world, but at the end of the day, he's also an ordinary child (relatively speaking), just like you. Be kind and respectful towards him, as you would anyone.

Please write again soon. Reading your letter put a smile on my face.

All my love,

Dad

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Ordinary child, my arse, Callie thought.

Harry Potter was anything but ordinary. And being the only person to ever survive the killing curse had nothing to do with it. From what she had heard, Potter had grown up with some muggle relatives following his parents' deaths, and hadn't even known he was a wizard until he received his Hogwarts letter. Magic was completely new to him, which meant that he had never once been on a broom.

Though you wouldn't have guessed that during their first flying lesson. It started when one of Callie's housemates, a smug blond named Draco Malfoy, swiped a Remembrall from the boy who'd wound up in the hospital wing during that first potions class. The boy, who was named Neville, was quickly proving himself to be a rather unfortunate soul, having fallen off his broom and broken his wrist. While Madam Hooch, their instructor, left to take Neville up to the hospital wing, Draco grabbed the Remembrall, which Neville had dropped, and took off on his broom to throw it up into a tree.

"Give it here!" Potter yelled, hopping onto his own broom to chase after Malfoy. And surprisingly, Potter could fly just as well as anyone who'd grown up doing so. Even better than Malfoy, who had bragged about being such a skilled flier.

"Now how does he know how to do that?" Ronald Weasley asked as they all watched Potter chase Malfoy.

What was even more impressive though, was when Malfoy tossed the ball into the air, and Potter caught it just before it hit the ground, narrowly - and expertly - avoiding crashing himself into the grass.

"Merlin's beard!" Callie exclaimed as the crowd cheered. "That was amazing!"

"Harry Potter!"

Everyone fell silent as Professor McGonagall came running across the lawn, chastising Potter's recklessness and pulling him away from the group.

"He's in for it now," Malfoy said with a wicked smile.

"It was your fault!" Parvati Patil argued.

Everybody wondered how much trouble Potter was in for, and Callie agreed with the Gryffindors when they said Malfoy ought to get the same treatment. The boy was a prat, and like Pansy Parkinson and her clique, he seemed to think he was above everyone because he, too, was a pureblood.

So it delighted Callie very much to see the look on her housemate's face when they found out that Potter was not in hot water - far from it. McGonagall had been so impressed with the boy's flying skills, and the way he had caught that Remembrall, she arranged to have him made the new seeker of the Gryffindor Quidditch team.

Callie couldn't remember having ever laughed harder than she did as they sat around the common room that night. "Hahaha! That really backfired, didn't it, Malfoy?"

"Shut up!" he shot back. "Who ever heard of a first-year seeker?" However, his disdain turned to hopeful excitement as he said, "We ought to be grateful, lads. Potter's sure to foul it up for Gryffindor. Prat doesn't even know what Quidditch is."

The first match of the season was to be between Slytherin and Gryffindor. After Potter's appointment to seeker, it was all anybody could talk about for the next two months. Callie got bored with it rather quickly; she'd never been much of a sports fan. However, she secretly hoped the opposing team would crush her own. It'd be worth it to see Malfoy's disappointment.

One afternoon in the Great Hall, a girl came up to the Slytherin table holding out a basket of team flags. "Only two sickles," she said. Tracey handed over the coins, but Callie simply shook her head.

"Where's your team spirit?" Tracey asked, waving her flag in front of Callie's face.

"I don't have any. Never really cared about Quidditch."

"No? Still, it's our house. Ought to show some Slytherin pride."

Nothing to be proud of in this house, Callie thought. Forget the bad reputation that Slytherin had. Her own observations and experience were enough to convince her she'd have been happier with any other house besides the one she got. Most days she didn't even feel welcome in her own room, as a lowly half-blood. And her head of house happened to be the most disliked professor at Hogwarts. And her housemates were such stuck-up gits that no one from the other houses liked them, not to mention they associated her with said gits. So there wasn't anywhere that Callie felt like she belonged. Her only friend was Tracey; that was pretty much the only bright spot.

Bitterness plagued Callie as she made her way out of the Great Hall. But she stopped in her tracks when a wonderfully defiant idea occurred to her. Turning toward the Gryffindor table, she could see they also had a girl selling flags for the upcoming Quidditch game. She smiled mischievously as she made her way over.

"Hi," she greeted, reaching into her pocket for two sickles, "I'll take one of those."

The seller gave her a queer look, as did a few at the table within earshot.

"Aren't you...?" the seller said, glancing over at the Slytherin table.

"A big Gryffindor fan?" Callie finished. "Oh, yeah, go lions!" She dropped the coins into the seller's hand and took a flag. On her way out of the Hall, she happened to lock eyes with Potter.

"Congratulations on making seeker," she said, and continued on before the puzzled boy could respond.

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Ordinary, huh? Just like me? Callie scribbled out all that had happened at the Halloween feast, doubting that her father would actually believe what she had to report.

A mountain troll. Merlin's beard! No one even knows how it got in. But Daddy, I swear, Harry Potter knocked it out in one of the girls bathrooms. He and two other kids from Gryffindor.

It sounded so fantastical, she wished she had a picture to include. Unfortunately no one saw it happen, but everyone was talking about it.

"I'll bet he made it up," Malfoy said the next morning at breakfast.

"Snape was there and so were McGonagall and Quirrell," Callie argued.

"Dumb thing probably tripped over its own bumbling feet and knocked itself out."

No sense arguing with the prat. Callie had quickly discovered that Malfoy wasn't someone to be reasoned with.

The day of the first Quidditch match finally rolled around, and Callie grudgingly joined her housemates in the stands, the gold and red flag secretly tucked into her robes. She only paid enough attention to know when Gryffindor scored points, so she could wave her flag for the team while her housemates sat and groaned.

"Sit down, ya twit," someone yelled from the back after her third cheer for Gryffindor. After looking around to make sure no teachers were watching, Callie made a certain rude gesture towards the heckler.

"Bitch," they yelled back.

"Shove off, will ya?" Callie called over her shoulder.

It seemed as though all hope was lost as Potter suddenly lost control of his broom. However, he was able to right himself finally and brought the game to a close when he caught the golden snitch. The crowd went wild - except of course for those in the Slytherin stands - and Callie joined in.

"Yes! Yes!" she cheered.

Tracey grabbed her by the arm and pulled her back into her seat. "What is the matter with you, we just lost!"

"Yeah. Look at Malfoy's dumb face!"

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The only bad thing about Slytherin losing to Gryffindor was having to listen to her housemates complain about it. "Put me on that team," Malfoy had said, "and I'll take care of Potter myself."

"'Course you would, Draco," Callie humored him in a bored tone. "Perhaps you could even take Slytherin to the World Cup."

"Sod off, Warbeck, you traitorous wench!"

"Love you, too, darling." she replied sarcastically.

Following her flag-waving stunt at the match, Callie found herself a lightning rod of her housemates' anger and frustration regarding their loss. In hindsight, most of them had barely even noticed her until now - it had mostly just been Pansy and her clique who gave her flack for being half-blood. Now, however, she was known as a house traitor. "Piss off to Gryffindor then, if you're such a fan," was an older boy's suggestion on where she could go.

But she really wasn't bothered by their taunts. In fact, she was rather proud of herself for getting under their skin so badly. It was no skin off her back, since the only one she ever got along with was Tracey - though the girl wasn't so quick to advertise their friendship nowadays.

"You brought it on yourself," she said one day as they headed off to Potions.

"Did I though?" Callie argued. "'Cause if the team wasn't so lousy, maybe I'd have a bit more 'Slytherin pride.'"

Tracey shook her head in exasperation. "One of these days, someone's going to haul off and hex you," she warned.

"Oh, that'll be fun- Ugh!"

Callie had turned a corner and ran smack into someone coming from the opposite direction. Her books toppled to the ground, as did theirs. Both students bent down to sort them out, and when Callie looked to see who she'd hit, she found herself staring straight into Harry Potter's bespectacled eyes.

"Sorry," he mumbled, hurrying to gather up his books.

His red-headed friend who was always at his side was less apologetic. "Watch where you're going, why don't you?" he said.

"How 'bout you sod off, Red," Callie shot back. "It was an accident!"

"Really, Ron, it's fine," Potter said. And to Callie, "Never mind him."

Callie smiled appreciatively and asked, "You all right?"

"Yeah, fine. You're that girl who bought our flag."

Her smiled widened, "Yeah, I'm in a lot of hot water over that. But I figured I ought to put my money on the youngest seeker in a century."

Harry returned a grin as they grabbed up their books and stood up. Then he shifted his into one arm and held out his hand for a shake. "I'm Harry," he said. "Harry Potter."

Of course you are, Callie thought. Everyone in the world knows your name, let alone the school. But her father's words flashed in her mind: He's an ordinary child, just like you. She accepted his hand and replied, "Callie Warbeck."

"Fraternizing with the enemy now, are we?" Malfoy's irritating voice called out. He came up behind her with his buddies, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, at his side. "Why don't you just give him a big kiss while you're at it."

"I got something for you to kiss, Malfoy," Callie retorted. Harry and Red exchanged glances, chuckling.

As the Slytherin boys headed off for the classroom, Callie returned her attention to Harry. "He's an even bigger git the more you get to know him," she said. "Lucky for you, you don't have to live with him."

"Definitely," Harry agreed. "Sorry about that."

Callie shrugged. "Only six and a half more years, at least." With that, the group made their way miserably down to Potions.