A/N: Thank you for your kind reviews, all! I'm posting chapter two a bit sooner than expected and plan to update on a regular basis.


Chapter Two: Welcoming

It was hard to ignore the stares everywhere he went. In the Great Hall, in the corridors, on the grounds- everyone craned their necks to get a good look at the famous Harry Potter. Though the conversations were muffled, they were impossible to completely tune out, especially considering that as exciting as it was that the Boy Who Lived was at Hogwarts, it was even more exciting that he'd been sorted into none other than Slytherin.

"Maybe that's how he defeated You-Know-Who. Dark magic beaten by darker magic."

"I heard he's been in top secret training with the Aurors since he was a baby."

"I heard he's secretly a snake Animagus!"

It was amazing, the multitude of ridiculous things the rest of the school had heard about him seemingly overnight. Harry heard snippets of theories from other houses as he passed them on the way to breakfast the next morning, his personal favorite being that he was actually a disguised Voldemort, having killed the real Harry Potter ten years ago.

"Come along, Potter," Terence Higgs called, turning his head but not slowing down. "Don't want to be late to breakfast on your first day, do you?"

Harry was surprised to find that despite the fact the rest of the school was clearly fascinated by his presence, the stares he'd gotten from his fellow Slytherins the night before had stopped abruptly.

Earlier that morning Harry had crawled out of bed bleary-eyed with his new housemates, Malfoy grumbling that that his shoes hadn't been polished the night before, and that the house elves here obviously weren't as disciplined as the ones at home. Harry, still groggy, hadn't had time to ask what a house elf was, and figured Malfoy would only make fun of him for not knowing. As they'd made their way to the common room, Malfoy continued to prattle on about his family's manor, and his broom back home, and how important his father was. Crabbe and Goyle were the only ones to seem actively interested, while Harry, Theodore Nott, and Blaise Zabini seemed to be in silent agreement that they just let him blather until he got tired.

Upon reaching the common room, Harry stiffened, ready for the onslaught of stares, but there were none. No one paid him any mind aside from what was natural, and this continued until the stone wall slid open ten minutes before breakfast was set to begin, revealing Severus Snape himself. The students jumped to their feet, reached for their books, and made their way out of the common room as though a silent bell had gone off.

"Morning, Professor!"

"Good morning, Professor Snape!"

"We missed you, Professor!"

Snape didn't say much as the students passed, just grimacing as they heaped him with happy greetings, which seemed to encourage them even more. Occasionally his hand would dart out and yank someone backwards by the back of their cloak if their personal presentation wasn't considered adequate, but they were released after quick adjustments were made. Harry summoned up his bravery and glanced sideways at the man as he passed. He was met with a gaze that, while hard, didn't seem to host any ill will. Harry exhaled, mumbled a quiet good morning, and kept walking, marveling all the way upstairs that still, no one was staring at him.

Had Snape said something the night before? First years went to bed before anyone else; had the man returned to the Slytherin common room? Harry couldn't picture it. After all, the man had said the night before that he wouldn't be treated differently than anyone else. He didn't have time to think about it, because before long Harry found plenty of people staring and whispering at him, just not from his house.

"Come along," Higgs said again, pausing in his tracks so Harry could catch up. "Don't pay them any mind."

"They're just jealous we got you and they didn't," a third year named Montague said loudly. "Envious little mingers. It's making their heads explode."

"Shut up," Higgs told him, straightening himself to appear as authoritative as possible, then turned his attention back to Harry. "Ignore them. It'll die down."

Harry just nodded. Even if he didn't entirely believe him, perhaps he was right. It had already calmed down with his own housemates. Well, mostly.

"You must love this," Malfoy hissed in his ear. "Famous Harry Potter has the whole school talking about him. Must think you're so much better than all of us."

"Sod off," Harry said, ruing the fact that for the next seven years he'd have to share a dorm with the most disagreeable peer he'd ever had, minus Dudley. "I didn't ask for this."

"But you're loving it, aren't you?" Malfoy sneered, keeping his voice low enough that Higgs wouldn't hear, and turned away as they walked into the Great Hall.

Harry chose to eat at the far end of the long table, closest to the door, where not as many people could stare at him. It took a good ten minutes, but he worked up the nerve to glance over at the Gryffindor table, where Ron Weasley looked back with undisguised curiosity. There was no denying the revulsion, no denying it at all, but it wasn't quite as bad as he'd expected. Harry just shrugged as if to say he had no idea, and Ron gave him a curt nod before turning to a plate heaping with eggs, bacon, and jam-topped toast.

Harry turned to his own breakfast and thought to himself that there was at least one thing every house had in common- the food was brilliant.

No one said much to him throughout the meal, but they didn't ignore him either. The boys in his year all knew one another already, and their conversation about Quidditch was difficult to follow. He wasn't about to sit with the first year girls and draw even more attention to himself, leaving only the older students for conversation, who asked a few questions about himself, but otherwise stuck to themselves.

Harry answered these questions as neutrally as possible. He said he'd been living with relatives all this time, and while he'd known about magic he'd never actually used it aside from accidentally. This was a lie, but he didn't want to admit to a house obsessed with dark magic just how far behind he was, much less considering he was the reason their idol was gone.

"Accidental magic? What kind?" a girl in Harry's year, Pansy Parkinson, asked, unable to help herself. "How powerful?"

"Erm, I turned a teacher's wig blue once. And another time I ended up on the roof at school without meaning to, but that was only a few floors, not like here." Harry hesitated, not sure if he should go on, but the thought of his new house's emblem brought forth another recent memory. "And this summer I accidentally made the glass vanish at the zoo on my cousin's birthday and let the snake out."

There was a long pause at this, then a series of whoops launched down the table as far as Harry could hear.

"Brilliant!" Pansy cried out. "It was a sign!"

"Classic Slytherin! Salazar would be proud," Lucian Bole agreed.

Even Malfoy's head perked up slightly, and although he was determinedly not paying attention, Harry could tell that he was impressed, or at least intrigued.

"All right, that's enough out of all of you," Ellen Greybourne, a fifth year prefect, said jerking her head toward the head table.

The outburst had not gone unnoticed, and now Severus Snape's steely glare pierced through the raucous students. They quickly fell silent, turning back to breakfast, but Harry couldn't help but sneak a second look at the head of house. Snape was still staring directly at them- at him. Harry averted his gaze, as well as Hagrid's, who he didn't have the nerve to address just yet, but the latter cornered him as he tried to leave the Great Hall.

"Well, hullo there," Hagrid said in his booming voice, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder that nearly buckled his knees.

"H- Hello, Hagrid," Harry replied, focusing his attention on staying upright.

They stared at each other for a long moment, neither quite knowing what to say.

"Well," Hagrid finally said. "Slytherin."

"Slytherin," Harry agreed.

"Slytherin," Hagrid said again, as though mulling over a word he'd never heard before and suddenly had to define.

"Slytherin." Harry nodded, still not quite sure what to say, but feeling somehow apologetic. "I'm sorry."

"Did you hear that?" Of course Malfoy would choose to pass at that moment, Harry thought. His ever-present sneer seemed to intensify as he said to Goyle, "He's sorry. Thinks he's better than the miserable old Slytherins."

"Oh, shut it," Higgs said, right behind him. "Imagine how you'd feel if you were sorted into Gryffindor."

Malfoy's loud protests echoed after him, and after a moment Harry turned back to Hagrid.

"No reason ter be sorry," Hagrid said gruffly, though he didn't quite meet Harry's eyes. "It isn't the worst thing in the world. And not all Slytherins go rotten, I s'pose."

"Of course not," Harry said, though he didn't actually know anything on the subject.

"That's right," Hagrid said. He sounded very much as though he was trying to convince himself as much as he was Harry, but his next words were more genuine. "Slytherin or not, we're still friends, aren' we?"

"Of course!" Harry said quickly. "Why wouldn't we be?"

"No reason not ter, and that's what matters," Hagrid agreed. A hand the size of Harry's torso ruffled his hair and nearly took his head off. "So, yer a Slytherin- so what? Stranger things have happened, haven' they?"

Harry nodded as the remaining students, mostly stragglers, shuffled past them, followed by the teachers. The teachers, if they were paying as much attention to Harry's presence as the students, were at least more subtle about it.

"I believe you have a class to get to, Potter," Snape's voice cut in behind them. "Unless you'd like to see how I react to hearing you were late to your first lesson of your first day?"

"Ah- sorry, sir."

"Hullo, Professor Snape." Hagrid's expression darkened at the potions master's presence, but he remained polite. "Just talkin' ter young Harry here. Must've lost track of the time. Yeh'd better run along now, Harry."

"See you soon?" Harry asked, not quite ready to leave.

"Friday afternoon? Firs' years have it off."

"That time is for studying," Snape cut in (of course it bloody was, Harry thought to himself), "But perhaps something can be arranged for the weekend."

Hagrid nodded and gave Harry one last friendly slap on the back that nearly sent him face first into a pair of candelabras. Snape started to leave himself before pausing and turning back to Harry, his eyes lingering on the top of his head. His hair, Harry realized, while already untidy by nature, could only look like a tornado had swept through it after Hagrid's ruffling.

Harry thought to himself it was awfully rich a man with hair as greasy as his had something to say on the subject, but wisely kept his mouth shut. As he reached up to smooth down his hair, Snape plunged a hand into his robes- was he going to hex him? was this how Snape handled students he was annoyed with?- and emerged with a comb that he shoved into Harry's hands with an expression of distaste. Harry stared down at it. Did Snape just carry around grooming tools for wayward students? Was it his own comb? Both choices seemed equally impossible, but he accepted it and mumbled a sheepish thank you to the retreating figure.

"Start carrying one," was all he received in reply.

"Git," Hagrid muttered, loud enough to be heard as Snape strode back toward the dungeons. "Yeh look fine. Let me know if he picks on yeh any further, hear?"

Harry nodded, inclined to agree with Hagrid on the matter, and yet Snape hadn't picked on him, not really. Last night he'd called him an idiot child and foolish when he'd lost his way back to his dorm, but he'd called Bole similar things for having food on his face and no one seemed to take it very seriously. Harry was used to adults picking on him, given it was a particularly fond hobby of his aunt and uncle. As strict and unbending as Snape was, there wasn't any real malice behind his words, at least not as far as Harry could see. He was a git, but not like his family was, or even Malfoy.

That being said, Harry sighed to himself as he started off to Transfiguration, it would be a lot easier if he'd just argued with that bloody hat and ended up in Gryffindor.


Severus Snape was fond of his study. It was a small and dimly-lit space and, like the rest of the dungeons, tended to run a bit cooler than the rest of the castle. His brightly-hued bottled potions specimens lined the walls and provided a bit of variety to what would otherwise be a monochrome space. It suited him perfectly, just as Minerva's cozy first floor office suited her. Severus wouldn't dream of suggesting she change her decor, but that didn't stop her from providing constant suggestions for ways to liven up the place, such as throw rugs or or a nice plump couch ("in green, maybe with silver trim- Severus, it would look lovely-"), but a glare was always enough to shut her up. Severus suspected she knew damn well he'd never take her suggestions and was just needling him for her own amusement, which was why he occasionally offered up his own feedback that her own office would look so much nicer with its minimalist lion tapestry replaced with one of a particularly large serpent.

Minerva wasn't here tonight, however, though he'd been reassured by her at dinner that his students had behaved perfectly, as always. For all the trouble his own house gave him from time to time, they knew better than to give another professor reason to complain to him. And, if he was being truly honest, his students were angels compared to what Slytherin had been during his own time in it. Not that he'd ever tell them that.

"Sir?"

"Higgs." Severus glanced up from the holiday homework he hoped to finish grading by the end of the week and motioned for the prefect to enter. "Don't just stand there, come in."

Severus Snape was fond of all his students- another detail he'd never actually state, though somehow each one managed to pick up on it eventually. All the same, there were few he truly trusted when it came to matters as delicate as the Potter boy. Even now he wondered if it was a mistake to ask Terence Higgs to keep an eye on him and make sure things went as smoothly as possible.

"Sit." Severus gestured at the chair opposite his desk, an ordinarily dreaded spot for most students who found themselves unlucky enough to be in his office. "Well?"

"It's going all right, sir, or I think it is," Higgs said, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "No one's giving him a hard time besides Draco Malfoy, and I'm sure that'll pass quickly."

Severus wondered about that. He knew Lucius's son, had known him for many years. The boy was ludicrously spoiled and stubborn, but there was a talented soul in there. He'd have to keep an eye on him as well, as well as a conversation as to exactly what he expected in terms of the Potter boy.

The night before, after the first years had trundled down the corridor to their dorms, Snape had indeed returned to the Slytherin common room. His speech was swift, never mentioning the Potter boy by name but being perfectly clear all the same. No one was to treat any of the new students differently than they would anyone else. If he discovered otherwise... He'd chosen to trail off here, allowing the wide-eyed group of children to imagine what his wrath would entail. After all, they already did such a wonderful job of it.

"Good," Severus said. "Any murmurings from the other students?"

Higgs shrugged, then quickly corrected himself as Severus raised an eyebrow. "No, sir, not really. Just curiosity about... well, how he did it, sir."

"The question we've all been asking ourselves for ten years," Severus said dryly. "If we haven't discovered yet how Harry Potter defeated the Dark Lord, I highly doubt we'll discover it now."

"It's strange," Higgs said, almost to himself. "He just seems like a normal child."

"He is a normal child," Severus said. "Just as you were when you arrived at Hogwarts."

Higgs hesitated- they didn't often speak of that first year and everything that happened within it- then nodded. "Yes, I suppose you're right, sir."

"That will be all." Snape waved a hand, dismissing the sixth year. Higgs nodded curtly, and as he reached the door, Severus called after him, "And thank you, Higgs."

"Thank you for trusting me, sir," was Higgs' reply before vanishing, and Snape thought to himself that he'd indeed made the right choice. The boy was one of the best prefects he'd had yet and, as little as Severus cared about Quidditch, he had to admit he was an excellent Seeker to boot. He'd likely recommend Higgs to Albus as Head Boy at the end of term, but of course Albus would never select a Slytherin.

Albus was still being infuriatingly tight-lipped about the entire thing. He was certain that the man had many feelings about the young liberator of the wizarding world being placed into the so-called "evil" house, but short of Legilimency he wasn't going to learn a thing- and as talented a Legilimens as Severus was, he wasn't suicidal enough to try it unannounced on Albus Dumbledore.

Severus sighed and stared down at the essay of dreck he was attempting to force himself through. He'd done enough for tonight. Besides, it was getting late and he made a point of spending at least some time with his students each night, and besides that, they were probably expecting him after a summer apart. He hadn't quite missed them, but there was a distinct emptiness and lack of purpose to his summers as he puttered around his rundown childhood home, fiddling with potions and devising new spells alone. He would have sold the house years ago, or given it to the first person who passed, but his potions experimenting left the walls and ceilings in a disgraceful state, and he couldn't bring it upon himself to pay for a new place to live that he'd only destroy over time. Served the old house right, he supposed, and it was only for a couple of months a year.

Fine, Severus begrudgingly admitted as he made his way to the common room twenty minutes later. He'd missed the little pustules. For all of five minutes at the very end of the summer. Now they were back, and it was back to dealing with a horde of tightly-wound balls of drama and chaos. Incredible, he thought to himself, how each one thought they were the very focus of the universe. Then again, he supposed, he was guilty of the same at times.

It was with relatively high spirits, or at least as high as Severus allowed his spirits to go, that he stopped outside the common room. There had been no need to worry at all. Everything would be fine.

"Serpentes," he announced, and the stone wall obligingly slid aside to reveal Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter in the midst of a fistfight.


Harry leaned over his homework, struggling to understand all the terms being thrown at him. His coursebooks did their best to cater to all kinds of wizards, including ones who'd had no idea until that summer that they were a wizard to begin with, but Harry suspected their writers overestimated just how much overlap there was between their world and the Muggle one. He glanced around the common room; nearly everyone had finished their homework ages ago.

A group of third years were engrossed in a game of dominoes that argued back if they didn't like where they were placed. Another pack of students had dragged out an ancient looking stack of board games, well-used but dusty from months of neglect. Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bullstrode hunched over a magazine of famous celebrities Harry had never heard of, occasionally giggling loudly. Harry longed to join a group of students playing with what seemed to be a magical container of bubbles that formed whichever words you liked when you blew them, but forced himself back to the unfamiliar words.

"Would you like some help?" A fourth year named Peregrine Derrick appeared at his shoulder. "I know it can be a bit tricky."

"That's all right," Harry muttered quietly, not wanting to reveal just how far behind he was. He wasn't aware of any students like him in Slytherin, ones who hadn't known anything about magic before arriving. "I'll figure it out."

"Don't be loopy, that's what we're here for." Derrick pulled an unoccupied chair out from next to Harry and plopped himself down. "Snape says it's important we look after the little ones, and I'm not getting my ear chewed off when you fail all your assignments."

Harry shot him a dirty look at his use of the phrase "little one" but accepted the help, trying to disguise his Muggle background as best he could. Derrick wasn't perfect at explaining concepts Harry didn't understand, and he occasionally became impatient- "Come off it, of course you know what a Portkey is!"- but it was far better than struggling alone.

Before long they were finishing up, and Harry took the opportunity to ask something that had been on his mind since this morning. "Hey, Derrick, what's a house elf?"

"What?" Derrick's double take was almost comical. "You don't know what a house elf is?"

Heads turned; Derrick had been far louder than Harry would have liked.

"No, I know what it is," he said quickly. "I just-"

"You don't know what a house elf is, Potter?" Malfoy's laughter was even louder than Derrick's voice, and even more heads turned. "What rock have you been living under? Everyone has a house elf."

There were some murmurs of disagreement, and Harry could've sworn he heard someone mutter, "hoity rich boy", but Malfoy ignored them. "Where have you been staying all these years, anyway, Potter?"

"That's enough," a terrifying-looking sixth year called Marcus Flint said. "Just keep your mouth shut, Malfoy. You want Snape coming after you?"

"Why would he?" Malfoy asked loftily. "We're all wondering it. Where has the famous Harry Potter been hiding away for ten years?"

"I told you," Harry said, placing a hand on the table and readying himself to get up if need be. "I've been living with my relatives."

"What relatives?" Malfoy asked. "The Potter line died out years ago; you're all that's left! Unless-"

Understanding washed over the eleven-year-old boy's face, just as it did everyone around them, though they did a better job at hiding it.

"What?" Harry asked nervously. Did the wizarding world somehow know about his aunt and uncle, and the kind of people they were?

"Muggles!" Malfoy crowed triumphantly, a horrible smile spreading across his face. "You've been raised by Muggles! How perfect- the great Harry Potter raised by Muggles! You're not off in the corner brooding about some dark plan, you're just stupid!"

"That's enough," another student chimed in, followed by several others. "Leave him alone."

"How would you know if I was raised by Muggles?" Harry asked, getting to his feet. "And why would you even care, Malfoy?"

"How would I know?" Malfoy laughed again. "Just how behind are you, Potter? You said you were raised by family, but your father's family is all dead- and everyone knows your mum was just a Mudblood."

The effect was instantaneous; it was as though the air had been sucked out of the room. Higgs immediately grabbed Harry by the shoulders and yanked him back as though he expected him to tackle Malfoy. Instead he was just befuddled.

Malfoy glared at the crowd, clearly having expected to be lauded and supported in his proclamations. "It's true, though. She was a Mudblood!"

"What's a Mudblood?" Harry asked, his confusion slowly replaced by a hot feeling in the pit of his stomach that was slowly growing warmer and warmer. Judging by Malfoy's face and the reactions of everyone around him (and the sound of the phrase itself), Harry was smart enough to gather that his mother had been called something bad. Something very bad.

"Bed. Now." Ellen Greybourne grabbed Malfoy by the arm and gave him a shove in the direction of the dorms. "You spoiled turd. Get moving."

"It's seven-thirty! You can't make me! You're not Snape!" he roared back. "Or my father!"

"I'm not," she agreed. "But I am a prefect. Now move."

"No," Harry spoke up, surprised at the bravery he suddenly felt coursing through him. "No, say it again. And tell me what it means, unless you're too much of a coward."

Everyone was on their feet now; Harry wondered if all scuffles between first years were met with such interest from the entire house. Then again, not all scuffles involved the subjects this one did.

"Don't be a toad," Higgs said to him. He'd let him go, but still kept a hand on his shoulder. "It's done. Malfoy, go to bed."

Malfoy ignored him, turning back to Harry. "I called your precious dead mother a Mudblood, Potter. It means she's got Muggle blood- that she's filth. That's why the Dark Lord killed her. That's why we'll never accept you, because you're just like her, you filthy Mud-"

Harry had never known his mother, at least not that he could remember. All through his childhood Dudley had made fun of him for having dead parents, and even though he'd never liked it he was still able to put up with it. After all, to Dudley it was just a game, just another insult to throw at his freaky cousin. There was malice, but not like the malice coming from Draco Malfoy, who'd known exactly how Harry's parents had died- before even Harry had. Later, when Harry had time to think about what happened next, he thought it was likely that last bit that set him off more than anything, that the smug, pompous brat had known all his life about Harry's parents, even more than he did. And that he was laughing-

Harry had never punched someone in his life. He'd tried at times with Dudley, but it was a bit like a squirrel trying to fight a tank. This was the first time in his life that he actually threw a punch and saw the other person go down in front of him, and he wasn't even aware he'd done it until Malfoy came at him with a punch of his own.

It lasted all of five seconds. Terence Higgs grabbed Malfoy around the waist and hoisted him over his shoulder; Harry found himself being easily lifted up by (to his intense mortification) Ellen Greybourne. The cries of protest (some toward the fight, some toward its immediate breakup) and whoops around them immediately fell silent. Harry turned his head, following the stare of every student in the room, and an icy feeling settled in his stomach as he gazed directly into the eyes of Severus Snape.