Chapter 5: The Feast

The train slowed down as they came up on Hogsmeade. All the girls left to give the boys privacy while they changed.

Anxiety to get on struck Draco again, like it had at the train platform in London. He managed not to lose Theodore, Vincent, and Gregory in the crowd at the station. They all migrated over toward Hagrid when he called for the first-years. Draco supposed there was one benefit to being that large and loud. The summons might have escaped Draco's notice, otherwise.

Draco didn't see much point to being separated from the older students. He figured he could find some Slytherins to follow, to see where he was supposed to go for the feast. That confidence hushed a little as Draco ferried across the lake with the rest of his year toward the castle. He didn't like feeling small, but there wasn't much else to feel when he looked up at Hogwarts. He'd gotten some sort of idea for the size of it from all the stories he'd heard. It hadn't really been done justice.

A passage under the cliff led to an underground harbour. Draco's legs were a little uncertain beneath him as he disembarked his boat with Theodore, Vincent, and Gregory. They climbed some steps up to the grounds, and then Hagrid banged on the castle's front door. It opened, but Draco couldn't see who had answered.

"The firs'-years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.

"Thank you, Hagrid," a stern voice replied. "I will take them from here."

Draco blinked against sudden light in the Entrance Hall. Theodore rubbed his eyes beside him. Draco tried to crane ahead to get a better look at Professor McGonagall. His father had told him that she wasn't one to cross.

Professor McGonagall led them into an empty chamber. The murmur of voices that Draco had heard coming out of the Great Hall faded. Draco had to pull his shoulders in as Vincent and Gregory pushed in close.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall told them all. Draco could see her now. From the hawkish way she looked them all over, he probably didn't need that tip from his father to stay on her good side. Draco could've figured it out well enough on his own. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly. Before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because. . ."

Although Draco listened, he didn't hear anything he didn't already know. He would only need to be pointed toward the Slytherin table after putting the Hat on, and then he would figure everything else out from there.

". . .suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared. "I shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly."

She left, and whispers immediately erupted through the chamber. Despite everything Professor McGonagall had told them, lots sounded nervous. Draco lifted an eyebrow when someone nearby repeated a whisper about being tested, and snorted quietly. Now he thought about it, Professor McGonagall hadn't actually mentioned the Hat.

Theodore poked Draco in the back, leaning close to his ear when Draco turned his head. "What do you reckon?"

Draco shrugged.

"You father never told you how they sort?" Theodore asked.

"No," Draco lied.

He enjoyed being the only person in the chamber to not panic, but Draco didn't have that luxury of remaining calm for long. Screams from the back jolted him upright, then the temperature dropped as several arguing ghosts packed in.

"New students!" one of them declared, but Draco couldn't see anything. Theodore had pushed up against him along with everyone else. Draco couldn't even draw full lungs of air.

"Move along now," Professor McGonagall told the ghosts, having reappeared.

Draco stretched his shoulders back out as they all formed a line. He straightened his posture and expression on their way back across the Entrance Hall.

The size and scope of the Great Hall widened Draco's eyes of their own accord. Other than maybe the Atrium at the Ministry, he'd never seen a room so large. Father hadn't told him about the floating candles, or the bewitched ceiling, or even really how many faces he ought to expect peering at him from the four house tables.

Draco fixed his gaze straight to avoid becoming unnerved. Butterflies filled his stomach anyway when he reached the front of the Hall and turned to face everyone. He felt better to let the sleeves of his robes fall down over his hands. He toyed with them in front of his lower abdomen.

Professor McGonagall fetched the Hat. Draco jumped along with Theodore when it started to sing. Father hadn't mentioned that either.

After the train ride, waiting in the side chamber, and now a song, Draco started to grow twitchy with his impatience. On top of that, the first five people Professor McGonagall called forward to be sorted had surnames that started with A and B. This was about to be another long wait, wasn't it?

Millicent became the first Slytherin in their year. Another boy became a Ravenclaw, and then Vincent was called forward. The hat went quiet long enough to furrow Draco's brow. He exhaled in relief when Vincent was finally called for Slytherin. A girl Draco didn't recognize named Tracey Davis followed Vincent to the Slytherin table, eventually followed by Gregory and Daphne.

By the time Professor McGonagall passed names like Longbottom and Macmillan, Draco nearly vibrated with the need to get on. He sighed through his nose when—finally—Professor McGonagall called his name.

Draco took a steadying breath on his way to the stool. A flash of concern passed through him. What if he wasn't meant for Slytherin? What would he do at Hogwarts, if sorted into a different house than his friends? Vincent and Gregory were already settled, but maybe Theodore—

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat yelled before barely even brushing against his hair. Smug with relief, Draco headed for the spot at the Slytherin table that Gregory made for him. Daphne and the new girl Tracey gave him friendly smiles from across the way. Millicent still just looked pleased with herself before looking back up to the Sorting. A boy named Roger Malone put the Hat on next, and was sent to Hufflepuff.

Hufflepuff also took the next girl called forward, and then it was Theodore's turn. Like for himself, Draco's heart picked up a little with anxiety. The Hat thought about it for a good twenty seconds before sending Theodore Slytherin way. Draco caught himself clapping a little louder than the other first-years before tempering his excitement. He couldn't be more pleased to share a dorm with the friends he already had.

Pansy was the next one to join them, flushed with pride as she dropped down beside Millicent. When Potter was called forward to be sorted, Draco rolled his eyes so hard he nearly fell off the bench.

Whispers broke out all around the Great Hall, including along the Slytherin table. While Potter lowered himself onto the stool, Draco indulged the thrilling idea that Potter would have to join him, Theodore, Vincent, and Gregory in their dorm. If Potter had any hopes of getting along with them, he would have no choice but to apologize for what he had said on the train. Draco might even be able to wrangle one for Gregory's finger, if Potter had enough of a conscience about him.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat eventually yelled, and Draco rolled his eyes again. The only thing more annoying than Potter being a Gryffindor was the amount of racket it received. It at least pleased Draco to see that what polite applause the Slytherin table offered dried up quickly.

Two more other first-years were sorted into Slytherin. A girl named Sophie Roper looked nervous, regardless of how nicely Daphne invited her to sit down. The last was a boy named Blaise, who seemed equally as shy while lowering himself onto the bench beside Theodore.

Professor Dumbledore rose to address the students. He thankfully kept it short. Draco sighed in near relief for his growling stomach when the feast finally manifested in front of them. He took quiet note of the unfamiliar first-year Slytherins' reactions to the food appearing out of apparent thin air. The only one between Tracey Davis, Sophie Roper, and Blaise Zabini that didn't seem fazed was Blaise. Draco wondered if that meant he came from money—if he was familiar with how house-elves worked.

"So, is anyone shocked that Potter's a Gryffindor?" Pansy was the one to ask.

"No," Draco said out of time along with Vincent and Gregory. He kept on: "He came off an absolute oaf on the train. I also met him during the summer, and that went no better."

Theodore leaned forward to look past Vincent and Gregory. "You met Potter before? Why didn't you say so?"

"I didn't realize it was him. He never said." Draco raised his voice a little when he noticed that some older students were listening in. "He was right thick, if you must know. I would have had better luck talking to a brick wall."

"He didn't say anything at all?" Pansy asked.

"He doesn't play Quidditch. Doesn't have a broom. That's about as far as we got."

Mention of Quidditch and brooms drew in more attention from further down the Slytherin table. Draco glanced that way, then looked again when he made eye contact with Marcus Flint.

"No Quidditch, huh?" Flint's deep voice had a way of silencing the conversations between himself and Draco. "His dad was good back in the day. Chaser. His name's on some old trophies."

Draco shrugged. He didn't know anything about Potter's parents spare their names and how they had died.

"Not like it matters, does it?" Draco asked. "He doesn't even know how to fly yet. I don't think he'll be trying out for the Gryffindor team anytime soon, if ever. He'll be too busy signing autographs for whoever will do his homework for him."

Flint grinned, showing off a prominent mouthful of crooked teeth. He shared a glance with Terence Higgs beside him before looking back to Draco. "Pressure's on this season for Gryffindor, now Charlie Weasley's gone. He's the best Seeker they had in who knows how long, and we still beat them into the pitch."

"Say," Draco straightened more in his seat, "are first-years still allowed to try out, even if we couldn't bring our own brooms to Hogwarts?"

"Don't reckon why not. I'll let you, if you want to." Flint lifted his chin with a smirk. "I'm the new captain."

"Oh really?"

"Snape pinned me with it now Huckabee's gone. What position you got your eye on?"

"Probably Seeker." Draco idly stirred his mash and gravy together. "I can fly pretty fast, and I have good eyes."

"Ooh, tough." Higgs spoke up. "That's me, kid."

"Right." Draco tensed his shoulders so that his disappointment wouldn't become outwardly obvious as he slouched.

Higgs took a bite of his pork chop. "You're welcome to try for my spot, but I sincerely doubt you'll outfly me."

Flint backed him on that with an apologetic shrug. "After the way he snatched the Snitch right from under Weasley's nose last year? I don't think so either—"

"Another Malfoy, eh?" came an icy, hoarse voice from behind Draco. A shiver ran along his spine, as if someone had poured freezing water down the back of his robe. Draco looked behind him, then up. The hair on his arms stood on end as he took in the semi-transparent yet silver-bloodied ghost gazing blankly down at him with unnervingly wide eyes.

"Er, yes?" Draco replied.

"You must be Lucius' son. Budge up, you," the ghost told Gregory, who immediately obeyed. The ghost floated down into a seat beside Draco. "I know your father well. I enjoy seeing him during his governor visits."

"Er—right."

"He was a very effective prefect back in his student days," the ghost continued. "Between him and myself, there were not many who dared wander the dungeons after curfew."

He laughed in a high, shrill way that ran what blood of Draco's remained warm cold.

"I'm the Bloody Baron," he introduced himself in a low, even voice. "The resident ghost of Slytherin house. Are you aware that Slytherin has earned the House Championship for six years running?"

Draco shook his head along with the rest of the first-years. Even Vincent and Gregory, Draco could see through the Bloody Baron, had stopped eating.

"Let's all not do anything silly that might compromise a seventh go," the Bloody Baron said. "Seven is a lucky number. It's a boon in magic—which you'll learn more thoroughly should any of you take Arithmancy. The last time Slytherin won seven years in a row, the house didn't put out a less-than-stellar witch or wizard for fifty years."

He looked around at them all, finishing at Draco with a raised eyebrow.

"So no pressure, right?" he asked, then let out that high-pitched laugh again before floating away.

Millicent was the one to break the silence between them all: "Well, that was terrifying."

Draco's laughter came as nervously as the others' did.

"So where are you from?" Daphne asked Tracey and Sophie, with a glance across the table at Blaise.

"The Lake District," Tracey was the first to say, rather quietly. Even then, Draco definitely heard the northernness to her accent. "Well, that's where we live now. I was born in Belfast, but with all the Troubles. . .Dad wanted us away from there."

"Is he a Muggle, or something?" Theodore asked. "I don't recognize your surname."

"Half-blood," Tracey replied. "Both my parents are."

"My parents are both Muggles," Sophie said in a posh accent, "but they knew something was up with me years ago. I kept vanishing my grandfather's toupee at dinner parties."

They all laughed, although Draco stopped prematurely as the first thing she said sunk in. Her parents were Muggles? So she was Muggle-born?

"In my defence, it was really ugly," Sophie added.

Everyone looked over where Blaise sat, so Draco forgot about Sophie for the sake of moving on. Like her and Tracey, Blaise didn't appear very comfortable with all the focus.

"I just moved to London," he said in a careful way.

"Oh, where from?" Daphne encouraged him.

"Milano."

From the way Blaise said it, Draco could tell he wasn't a native English speaker. The I in Milano carried the word up into his nasal cavity, the A drawled, and the O came to an abrupt stop. All the girls let out gasps of excitement.

"You're from Italy?" Pansy asked, leaning over her plate with wide eyes. "Ooooh, say something in Italian! Go on!"

If Blaise had a lighter shade of skin, Draco expected his cheeks would have visibly flushed.

"What do you want me to say?" he asked when he realized the girls weren't backing off.

"Er. . ." Pansy blanked at that.

"Do you really say 'ciao' for hello and goodbye?" Millicent spoke up.

Blaise gave a tiny nod, turning bashful again when all the girls fawned over this information. "It's for informal goodbye—for friends, and the like."

"What's the formal one?" Sophie asked.

"Arrivederci."

The girls lit up anew, probably because of the little roll of Blaise's tongue on the Rs. They raised their goblets of pumpkin juice and repeated, loud enough for some older students to glance down at them, "Arrivederci!"

Blaise snorted a little. "Well, if you want to toast, you say 'saluti'. . ."

They all did that next. With a shrug, Draco did the same along with the other boys. He finished off his pumpkin juice and had to reach for the nearest pitcher to refill his goblet.

"So what about the rest of you?" Tracey asked. "Do you all know each other, or something?"

"Yes, we grew up together," Draco answered. "We're all from old wizarding families."

"Oh?" Sophie leaned on her elbow, fist against her jaw. "What's that like, then?"

Other than their nappies being changed together once upon a time, Draco didn't have much else to say. There were things like the biannual solstice galas held at Malfoy Manor, or the inside connections to things like major sporting events or theatre shows. When Draco talked about his father being in regular contact with people inside the Ministry, Blaise wondered aloud if that included his stepfather. His mum had just married the Italian ambassador, Gianmarco Domatazzi, this summer.

Through the dessert course, Draco noticed that Vincent and Gregory weren't contributing as much to the conversation. For Vincent it had to do with how many jam doughnuts he crammed into his mouth, but Gregory shifted a lot in his seat. He'd gone a little pale.

Draco nudged him lightly with his elbow. "What's up?"

"Ah, nothing," he said. "My hand's just starting to hurt again, is all."

"Right," Draco said under his breath. He'd forgotten about the bite. "Maybe we ought to find Professor Snape and see about getting you to the matron."

Gregory opened his mouth to reply, but a hush had fallen over the Great Hall. Dumbledore had some announcements to make regarding rules. When he was finished—along with a drawn-out rendition of the school song—Draco stood up amid all the din that erupted. He ignored one of the prefects calling for all the first-years, heading for the High Table instead.

Professor Snape glanced in Draco's direction, then looked again proper. His black eyes sized him and Gregory up. Draco realized then that Vincent had followed as well.

"Evening, Malfoy," Snape greeted him. "Crabbe. Goyle. I'm pleased to have you all in Slytherin house."

Draco nodded, opening his mouth. Before he could speak, Snape kept on.

"You ought to follow the prefects down to the dungeons," he said. "You wouldn't want to get lost. It can be a rather. . .unpleasant experience, to be found out of bed by the Bloody Baron."

"Please, sir," Draco replied. "Goyle needs to see the matron. There was an incident on the train."

Snape lifted his hooked nose, to better see when Gregory held his hand out. The dried blood had all been cleaned away, but the skin was still slightly torn from when the rat had been flung off. Gregory had mentioned that the area flapped if bothered. Draco was grateful he hadn't shown everyone, given he might grow faint to see such a thing.

"I see." Snape stood in a fluid motion. "Come then, Goyle. I'll escort you to the hospital wing."

"Sir." Draco jumped in. "Can't Crabbe and I come? We could tell you what happened."

One of Snape's eyebrows rose. "This wasn't an accident?"

"No, sir. He was attacked by a student's animal."

"Come along, then."

Pleased, Draco fell in step. He felt important to leave the Great Hall with their Head of House, rather than their prefects.

They came up behind a traffic jam in the Entrance Hall. Half the school headed up the marble staircase, while the other filtered down to the castle's lower levels. Draco followed what looked like a batch of Gryffindors up to the first floor. He craned ahead, trying to see if Potter was part of them, but he didn't see that horrible head of unkempt hair.

The Gryffindors turned left, while Draco followed Snape to the right. Beyond a set of boys' and girls' toilets, they had already reached their destination. Snape held the door open for Draco, Vincent, and Gregory.

Compared to the hubbub of students to their rear, the hospital wing was peaceful. It was quiet and brightly lit, and smelled vaguely like lemons. The rapid click of heels sounded from an open door ahead. A tall, silver-haired woman peered through it, her brow immediately falling into a furrow. Her shoes sounded more purposeful as her pace quickened toward them.

"You cannot be serious, Severus!" she said in a sharp voice. "An ailment already? Term has hardly yet to start!

"Well?" The matron stood in front of them with her fists on her hips, her gaze sweeping between Draco, Vincent, and Gregory. "Which of you is it?"

Rather hesitantly, Gregory held his hand out.

The matron appraised his finger for barely a second. "A rat bite. Well, that ought to be easy enough. Come along. We'll get you fixed up so you can be off to bed."

She led them all to the bed nearest the door she had entered through, and instructed Gregory to sit. When she had disappeared, muttering about wild animals being allowed free reign on school grounds, Snape folded his arms.

"So someone's rat bit you?" he asked Gregory.

"A Weasley's," Gregory said. "Whichever one is in our year."

"Hm." Snape's eyebrow rose again.

"Sir," Draco spoke up. "Sir, Harry Potter was also involved."

"How so?"

"He was there," Draco said. "He was going to start a fight, him and Weasley, with the three of us."

"On the train?"

"Yes, sir."

"What over?"

"We'd gone by their compartment to introduce ourselves," Draco replied. "Weasley laughed at my name, sir, and then Potter said he knew I was the wrong sort to be around." Draco swelled indignantly to think about it again. "So I told him to watch himself, and then the two of them were in our faces trying to start a fight, and then the rat bit Goyle, sir."

Snape showed an interesting string of facial expressions while he listened. Given that a curled upper lip accented his glower, Draco felt some smug satisfaction that Potter might actually see trouble for what had happened.

"I see," Snape said. "I can't exactly say that I'm shocked Potter is ill-behaved."

They couldn't say much else, since the matron—Madam Pomfrey, Draco learned with her hasty introduction—returned. She cleaned Gregory's wound, wrapped it, and then had him drink something before telling him to go immediately to sleep once he found his dorm.

"I will see that he does," Snape assured her. "Thank you, Poppy."

The castle had fallen quiet now, with everyone having headed for their common rooms. Draco sped up ahead of Vincent and Gregory so that he could walk beside Snape again.

"Sir," Draco addressed him. "Will Potter and Weasley be in trouble?"

"I sincerely doubt it."

"Why?" Draco asked, pulling a face. "Surely fighting is against the school rules."

"Oh, it is." Snape glanced down at Draco through his curtain of black hair, not moving his head. "Are you under the impression that Harry Potter will be treated like a regular student here at Hogwarts?"

"What?" Draco nearly stopped walking. "He isn't special! Is this because of the Dark Lord, or what? He was just a stupid baby. He probably has no clue how it happened."

"That's unfortunately irrelevant. He is still a high-profile student, one of which I'm sure Dumbledore will hold a soft spot for. Potter grew up without his parents. It sounds as though that left him a little rough around the edges. I suspect that even if that wasn't the case, he would have a certain. . .leeway."

"You mean Professor Dumbledore is going to play favourites with him," Draco said in a flat tone.

"I anticipate so. You may as well prepare for that, as I have," Snape replied. "Mind, most if not all of the staff will not. Our duty first and foremost is to our students' education. If Potter thinks he'll breeze through this school without so much as lifting a finger, he will be in for the shock of his life."

Draco smirked. Behind them, Vincent and Gregory laughed quietly to themselves.

"This is very much a Gryffindor-leaning institution," Snape continued on. "Dumbledore himself was one back when he was a student, and the current Head of Gryffindor house—Professor McGonagall—is also Deputy Headmistress. I will advise you that Professor McGonagall is fair, so don't go about disrespecting her. It isn't worth the house points you would lose."

"No, sir." Draco hadn't been planning on doing that.

"Slytherin house has slowly been coming back to itself in the last decade." Snape led them down some of the stairs other students had left the Entrance Hall from. "Just behave and do well in your lessons, and things will be fine. Forget about Harry Potter. He isn't worth your time."