Chapter 3: The Slytherin Side of the Hall
Age 14 Tuesday May 21, 1995
Harry stretched rather languidly, feeling Nagini stir about him. Blanche was curled on his pillow, triangle head tucked neatly under a coil. Today they were going to get his wand and supplies from 'Diagon Alley' or some such place. He had to admit he was rather excited.
He rolled out of bed, strands of hair that had come loose from his braid falling around his face. Trudging to the bathroom, he took a rather long shower (His new addiction) wrung his hair out, became completely baffled when it came to braiding the stuff again, tossed on a robe, and finally ended up tucking most of his hair into his hood (He'd find someone to braid it later) and padded barefoot out of his room, Blanche secured about his neck.
He absolutely refused to wear shoes, even on the freezing castle floors. The things made his feet hot and sweaty, and gave him blisters. He really didn't see what was so great about the damn things.
His room wasn't far from Dumbledore's, and he quickly found himself at the statue of the hideous wrinkled snarling thing that guarded the Headmaster's rooms. Of course, from there he was totally stumped. He stared at the stone creature blankly, debating his options.
Of course, after about ten minutes of waiting, he got rather bored, and decided that now was as good a time to explore the castle as any. If Dumbledore wanted him he could damn well come find him himself.
Harry wondered about, finally stumbling into a large room filled to the brim with books, books, and more books. He glanced around rather amazed. It seemed deserted, except for a boy with his head bent over a scroll in a far table in the corner. His hair was a pale silver color, and it shimmered with the sunlight that fell through the window.
The boy glanced up, seeming to sense his presence, and studied him with a cold calculating gaze. Harry padded over and sat down across from him, returning the stare.
"Harry Potter." Harry nodded. "You're wearing a glamor." He said flatly, in a practiced tone that almost hid his curiosity. Give him a few more years, and he would have it down perfectly. "Why?"
Harry shrugged, wondering how much he should tell this silver-haired boy. Dumbledore hadn't forbidden him to tell anyone, just told him some would be scared of him.
"Dumbledore ssays I have to. Ssays my appearancsse will causse fear in the general sstudent population. How can you tell?" The blond started, eyes widening slightly, obviously not expecting his voice to be thickly accented with Parsel.
"Father taught me how to recognize one, but I can't see through them yet like he can."
The boy leaned forward, squinting harder at him and slowly raising his hand towards Harry's face. Harry caught his wrist swiftly, with lighting fast reflexes.
"What are you doing?"
"I want to know what your real face is like." Harry studied him, looking for any sign of malice or ill intent, but still found only almost completely masked curiosity.
Slowly, he released the thin wrist, and the fingers continued forward. They ran along his jaw line, mapping out its more triangular shape, ghosting over his sharp cheekbones and flatish nose. The boy's eyes widened slightly at the nose, testing it's surface again.
"Good Gods." The boy whispered.
"I didn't catchh your name." Harry replied.
"Draco Malfoy." The darker haired boy nodded, the name didn't mean anything to him.
"What iss thiss placsse called?" Harry asked, gesturing to the room around them. Draco gave him a rather strange look.
"It's called a library."
"Hmm."
"You're a very strange person, Potter." Harry just nodded.
"Do you by chancsse know how to braid?"
"Why?" Draco asked, fiddling with the paper he had been working on before Harry had come in. Harry tugged his long mass of still damp hair out of his hood, allowing it to cascade to the floor and pool about his feet.
"Becausse I don't, and thiss sstuff iss bothering me."
"Why don't you cut it?"
"I've tried. It growss back." The blond gave him a weird look.
"That's generally what hair does, Potter." Harry gave him a withering glare.
"It growss back within the ssame day to the ssame lengthh."
"Strange." Draco moved to sit behind him, running deft fingers through the ebony locks. It only took him a few minutes, and soon he had a braid coiled at his feet instead of the messy locks that seemed bent on strangling him in the shower.
"Thankss." Draco nodded.
"You're probably tired of this question, but why do you speak like that?" Harry stared at him.
"I was dumped by my muggle Uncle in a foresst when I wass four. N-" Harry paused, and wondered just how risky it would be to tell Draco the name of the serpent that had raised him like his own mother. Draco raised a silver brow, waiting for him to continue. Throwing caution to the wind, he finished his sentence. "Nagini raissed me." No reaction. "Sshe'ss a King Cobra. The only language I sspoke for ten yearss was Parssel."
"And how did you come to speak Parseltongue in the first place, Potter? Only the Dark Lord can speak to snakes."
"Dumbledore believess that the night he tried to kill me he transsferred ssome of hiss power into me." Draco looked thoughtful.
"That sounds plausible, I guess." Suddenly a smirk tugged at the boy's mouth. "I can't imagine Dumbledore was too pleased with your situation or your many similarities to the Dark Lord."
"No, he wass not."
"I noticed you were sitting at the Gryffindor's table for dinner last night. Have you been sorted into that house?"
"What do you mean, ssorted?"
"Ah, I guess it was just Dumbledork's wishful thinking then. There are four houses. Have they explained this to you yet?" Harry shook his head.
"The four houses are Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. I'm in Slytherin." Draco smirked proudly.
"Gryffindors are suppose to be brave, but a lot of them are just extremely stubborn and headstrong with a healthy dose of stupidity. Hufflepuffs are suppose to be loyal and hard working, Ravenclaws smart and studious. Slytherins are cunning and ambitious."
"How do they ssort you into thhesse houssess?"
"There's this hat that they put on your head when you first get here. It looks inside your mind and puts you where it deems you fit best." Harry nodded. "How old are you?" Draco asked, now not even bothering to hide his curiosity.
"Fourteen."
"Me too. You'll be in fifth year next year then." Again Harry just nodded. He already knew this. "I imagine you've come a bit late to start school this year."
"Harry, my boy!" Harry winced, and Draco gave him a sympathetic expression before turning back to his scroll. Harry turned slowly to see the wizard that was dressed in a ungodly yellow-orange robe with a smattering of what looked like hopping rabbits around the bottom. Harry sighed. Oh the irony.
"Have you had breakfast today, Harry?" Harry shook his head.
"I ate lasst night." Dumbledore looked confused.
"Surely you're hungry again this morning?"
"I only need to eat onssce a week."
"You didn't eat all that much last night, Harry. I don't really see how that's possible."
"I had a rabbit after dinner." Harry heard Draco snicker behind him at the Headmaster's expression.
"Ah..." Now it was Harry's turn to snicker.
"Ssnake got your tongue, Headmasster?" Dumbledore chose to ignore him.
"Well, come on then. Mustn't waste any time, we've got to be off to get your wand."
"Good bye, Draco." Harry stood, nodding at his companion.
"Nice meeting you, Potter." Harry followed Dumbledore out, his bare feet silent against the stone.
It took white haired wizard a few minutes to notice all Harry had on was a robe. He conjured a pair of leather shoes for him, and told Harry to put them on. Harry scowled, but complied.
It wasn't long before they were at the gargoyle once more, the password being 'ice mice.' (Harry had to refrain from licking his lips just to annoy Dumbledore even more, which was quickly becoming his favorite hobby.) They were seated in Dumbledore's office, and he was motioning over the same yellow tin he had used to transport Harry the first time, ("It's called a portkey, my boy. It will transport us directly to Diagon Alley.") when Harry remembered about Voldemort.
"Headmasster how did Voldemort return?" The man paused, setting down his wand, and looked at Harry with a thoughtful expression.
"When Voldemort was sixteen, he left a diary behind that contained a bit of his soul." Harry nodded, showing he understood. "We are not really sure how Ginny Weasley, Ron's younger sister, found it, but two years ago it was placed in her possession. From what we have been able to gather, she was able to communicate with it, and over the period of the school year, it possessed her numerous times and sucked her dry of life and magic.
"Finally, it was able to extract itself from the diary, using young Ginny's life force and magic to build itself a new body. It rejoined with the rest of Voldemort's soul, making him corporeal and allowing him to become even more powerful than before." Harry's face soured.
"Nagini hass told me all about my role in hiss firsst defeat. I ssuposse thiss iss the main reasson you came looking for me in the firsst plassce."
"Of course not! I hope to be able to care for you like I would my own grandson!" Harry snorted. "We couldn't let Voldemort get his hands on you. To him you would have merely been a potion ingredient, a way for him to raise his power to new levels." Skeptical green eyes studied the Headmaster, still not believing the last part of his yarn, but deciding it didn't really matter. He was only here for the magical education, planning to disappear as soon as he learned as much as he considered helpful. He wasn't planning on helping the old coot in his war, he had lost that privilege when he had left him with those goddamn muggles. The headmaster didn't need to know this, however.
Harry didn't really know what to say to all this, so he just hummed noncommittally.
"If you have no more questions... No? Well," The headmaster brandished the yellow tin. "We're off then!"
The first stop was Madam Malkin's, which was an interesting experience. He forgot how modest humans were, and when she asked him to take off his robe so she could get his measurements, she blushed furiously at his bare skin.
Dumbledore quickly conjured a pair of shorts for him, sighing and shaking his head. After she had gotten over the first shock, the second ended up being the snake draped around his neck like an expensive necklace. She almost fainted, and the Headmaster had to ask Harry to remove Blanche for the time being, and Harry did, sending her off to explore the Alley for a bit. The final shock, and probably what would have ended up with him being kicked out if not for who he was and who he was with, came when she went to lift his braid and finally noticed the rather intricate diamond pattern that ran down his back. The same pattern that some cobras had decorating their own backs.
The witch had screeched and asked what creature in Hades had Dumbledore dragged into her shop? Dumbledore had finally just Obliviated her and placed a glamor over his back to prevent any further problems.
Harry was rather shocked at the underhand tactics, but didn't complain, and ended up with more cloths than he had ever seen in one place at once.
Their next stop was a book store by the name of Flourish & Blott's, where Dumbledore quickly bought all of his require text books for the first five years of Hogwarts, a stack of blank scrolls, and several quills and ink wells.
Finally, they reached Ollivander's. Harry had to keep himself from trembling with excitement. The strange fellow that owned the place rather unnerved him, but it didn't damper his mood. What did, however, was how long it took to find a wand that fit him. Hours they stood, as he tried out wand, after wand, after wand. Finally a wand was placed in his hand (holly, 11", supple, single phoenix tail feather), shooting warmth up through his arm. Dumbledore looked torn between resignation and shock. After Ollivander explained the significance of his wand, Harry was more amused than anything.
Harry noticed a shop named Magical Menagerie and asked politely if they could stop there quickly. He could hear a multitude of interesting animal noises coming from inside the shop and it made him long for home. The Headmaster allowed it, and Harry submerged himself into the chaotic noisy store.
He was met with and assortment of loud croaks, hoots, yowls, barks, and hisses among other things. Large purple toads sat in an aquarium to his right, fire-crabs (jewel encrusted tortoises) in a cage to his left. Streelers (large poisonous snails) crawled up another aquarium above the fire-crabs. Rabbits, ravens, puffskeins, and cats of every color were in various cages about the store. Harry felt his mouth water, even though he wouldn't be hungry for another six days or so. He nodded at the snakes, pausing to speak a few words with them. A kneazle nearly tripped him, its lion tail flicking back and forth as it chased after a black rat. Harry chuckled, pausing to watch as a tank full of large tarantulas with pink toes scurried to the far side of their cage when he was near.
He reached the back of the shop, a witch with heavy black spectacles sat at the counter, scribbling in some sort of book. She glanced up and smiled, asking what she could do for them.
"Jusst looking." She looked startled, her eyes flicking up quickly to his scar, and then to Dumbledore who was standing next to him.
"O- Okay." She nervously went back to her scribbling, but continued to shoot them furtive glances when she thought they weren't looking. On their way out, Harry spotted Blanch, slithering out from under a shelf.
"There you are. I was getting worried."
"You worry to much, Harry. The snakes here are rather dull."
"I know, I spoke to them for a bit."
At this point Dumbledore interrupted them to bid Harry not speak with Blanche in public when a witch had glared at him, ushering her children away. Harry had scowled right back, only to be yanked along by an impatient Headmaster.
Finally, they were headed back, with Dumbledore nipping into the Apothecary to buy him his potion supplies, and then they were portkey-ing into the Headmaster's office.
After all of his supplies had been placed in his room, Dumbledore sat him down and they created a rather rigorous schedule that would cover all important points in his magical training up so far so he would hopefully be able to join his classmates come the start of next year.
With that, Dumbledore left him with the strong suggestion that he start on his books, as they had only set two weeks maximum, less if they were lucky, for him to finish all of the first year material.
Harry found transfiguration extraordinarily easy, which when he discovered a mention in the first book on how advanced animagus transformations were, was not really surprised. He skimmed through the book, reading bits of theory, trying out most of the exercises, and found nothing he wasn't able to do. He continued this way, finishing the fourth year transfiguration book before it was time for bed, feeling exceptionally please with himself.
Nagini was curled up on his bed, long asleep, and he discarded his robe before climbing in next to her. It wasn't long before he fell asleep, a smile gracing his features.
Harry woke with a memory tugging at the edge of his mind, and went through his new morning routine of cleaning himself before it finally surfaced as he was trying to figure out once more what to do with his hair. He really needed to get someone to teach him how to braid the stuff. Maybe Draco will teach me.
He remembered Dumbledore saying something about him having a godfather. Quickly dressing, he glared at the buckled boots the Headmaster had bought for him, ignored them, and left his room with Blanch, barefoot once more.
As he turned the last corner, he met with the hook nosed man that had been with Dumbledore on that first day. (Had that really only been two days ago?) The man nodded at him stiffly, with a clipped greeting of, "Potter."
They continued in silence the last few metres down the corrode together before Harry whispered a quiet, "Issce Missce," allowing them up the spiraling stairs.
Harry lifted his hand to knock, when a "Come in, come in!" was shouted from inside. Harry noticed the greasy haired professor roll his eyes next to him and chuckled.
When they were seated, Dumbledore turned to him and asked, "What can I do for you, my boy?" Harry clenched his teeth so hard to keep from commenting, they made a squealing grind that made Snape glance at him sideways. Dumbledore's eyes continued to twinkle in their maddening way, and Harry took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down.
"Headmasster, I remember you ssaying that I had a godfather here?" The man nodded, and Harry sensed a slight tensing in the professor seated next to him.
"Sirius Black." And now Harry could almost feel the angry curl of the dark haired Professor's lip, "He is on an errand for me at the moment, but he should be back within the next few hours."
The trill of a phoenix interrupted them, and Harry glanced sharply at the fire bird. The creature starred right back, cocking its head to the side as though it didn't seem to know what to make of him. Harry had the very strange and seemingly random urge to pick up one of the delicate tinkling whirring silver contraptions on Dumbledore's desk and chuck it at the flaming thing, if only to see what would happen. The bird let out an indignant squawk, and hopped about on it's perch, as though it knew what he was thinking. He shook his head and turned back to Dumbledore who was looking rather disapproving, once again, for the umpteenth time in the last few days.
"Thhank you, ssir. Would you be sso kind ass to inform me when he arrivess?" Dumbledore smiled at him, his beard twitching, and nodded. Harry quickly exited, wondering if it was late enough for him to find Draco or Hermione wondering about yet with a free period.
Lost in thought, he didn't really notice where his feet were leading him, and before he knew it, there were voices coming from down the hall. A very large crowd of voices, and checking his surroundings, realized he was near the Great Hall, and it was probably right around lunch time.
Did he want to brave it? Was seeing his new found 'friends' worth the nauseating smell of human food? He remembered the ruckus that he had caused on his last foray into the Hall. Unbidden, his feet drew him ever near to the happy chattering roar of the student body. Maybe just for a few minutes. He could just nip in, see Draco and Hermione really quick, and nip back out. Ask them to come meet him after class somewhere.
Harry slipped through the door way that he had been loitering next to, emerging on the Slytherin side of the room. He quickly found Draco's silver head, and the blond looked up to see him at nearly the same instant. He made a beckoning motion, scooting over to make room for him. Harry noticed the Hall was rather quiet all of a sudden, something that seemed to be a rather normal occurrence around him.
Sliding in next to Draco, he glanced around to see everyone staring at him with a varying degree of masked emotions.
"Potter, this is Blaise Zabini," The tall black boy with high cheek bones and long slanting eyes that were a rather brilliant and unusual gold color in front of Harry nodded. "Pansy Parkinson," Draco gestured to the girl on the opposite side of him who leaned forward to get a better look at him and who looked like she had run rather hard into a wall at some point in her life, "Tracey Davis," The girl to the right of Harry wearing a rather thick rimmed set of heavy specks and reading a book lifted a few fingers in the air to acknowledge she was listening, "Daphne Greengrass," The girl to Blaise's left who's hair was a shocking shade of maroon nodded, "My personal body guards Vince Crabbe," the stocky boy to the right of Blaise with a bowl cut was indicated, but to busy eating to notice much was going on, "and Greg Goyle." The one to Crabbe's right who was also in a similar predicament, eating as though it was his last day alive, and who was just as stocky, if not a bit shorter, and who's hairline seemed to extend all the way down to his eyebrows. "Oh and that," Draco gestured down the table a few people to where a weedy boy was sitting, seemingly immersed in his meal, pick at it in a rather weird manner, "Is Theodore Nott. He's a loner, and rather strange."
"Harry Potter. Nissce to make your aquantanssces." He nodded politely at the surrounding fourth years, amused at their varying reactions to his thick sibilant accent.
"Harry?" Blanche asked, sounding rather groggy. The reactions went from amusing, to priceless. He wondered what they had been expecting from one who defeated the Dark Lord. Probably not what he was giving them.
"Morning, Blanche." Harry noticed he suddenly had Theodore Nott's attention from, his meal not so interesting after all. Mud colored eyes narrowed in his direction, and Harry smirked.
Other than Nott, the rest of the Slytherin fourth years, and many of the other years, seemed to be staring at him with something akin to hero worship. Which Harry decided, was rather ironic. He rather liked this table.
It definitely helped that they weren't reaching over him, scrambling, shouting, elbowing, or using various other means to obtain the food that had caused him so much more difficulty the day before. Being hit in the ear with mushroom gravy had most likely also contributed to his angry outburst that night. For all of their horror at his wild upbringing, they definitely acted more like crazed beasts than he ever had.
Well, besides Hermione, who he had just noticed across the hall, staring at him with a rather badly hidden hurt and betrayal glistening in her eyes before quickly glancing back down at her food when she saw him looking. Harry felt like thumping his head on the table.
"P- Potter! How did you-- How can you--" Daphne sputtered, interrupting his thoughts.
"Very articulate, Greengrass." Draco drawled next to him, a smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. Her pale cheeks tinged red.
"Shut up, Malfoy." Was the mumbled response, and Daphne glowered at him.
And Dumbledore, lovely wonderful insane Dumbledore, entered the great hall at that moment, and paused upon noticing his choice of seating. Harry sighed, but starred stoically back, unblinking. Behind him trailed a man with shaggy black hair, and even from this distance Harry could smell dog and something else that might have been wolf but not strong enough for it to be the man's own scent.
Sirius Black indeed.
And Harry supposed, that if he could tell the man was an dog animagus from here, the man could probably tell he was a cobra. Harry stood, and motioned for them to follow him out of the hall, nodding to the Slytherins.
And then they were in front of him, and the man with shaggy black hair and fathomless grey eyes was wrapping him in strong arms, rocking back and forth, and sobbing. Harry stiffened, but the honest warmth and love that radiated from the man made him soften.
"Harry, Harry. Oh Harry, I'm so sorry. I'm so very very sorry." And he was, and it wasn't any of the Headmaster's fake bullshit, this man truly cared for him. Tentatively he wrapped his arms around the other's waist, and buried his face in the thick folds of the man's cloak.
For what had to be the fourth or fifth time, Blanche interrupted, throwing everyone around her for a loop. Poking her head out from under Harry's robe, where she had been curled, asked in a rather rude manner, why there was a mutt draped about Harry.
Sirius growled, and went as though to fling the snake across the room, but Harry slid under his grasp with liquid grace, and put a good few metres between them before stopping.
"Now Ssirius, just becausse you're my Godfathher doess not mean you have any right to kill my familiar." The man stood stock still, and Harry could see he recognized the accent. (Who didn't?) Narrowed eyes turned from him to Dumbledore, and in a menacing hiss, he asked, "What. Happened. To. My. Godson."
"Shall we take this to my office, gentlemen?" Harry nodded sharply, and Sirius scowled. Menace wafted off this man, strong and playable, along with danger and a hardness most people never obtained.
This would be interesting.