Silence.
Indomitable silence.
Not even the Weasley twins, Fred and George, two delinquents known for their blatant disregard for social conventions spoke.
The cause of this silence was the raven-haired boy sitting on a wooden stool with a dirty hat atop his head.
The raven-haired boy who had just been sorted into the house of silver and green, when nearly everyone expected him to be sorted into gold and red.
His sharingan flared before reverting to a sheen of milky green. He didn't need the eyes precognition to tell him that a ripple of foreboding had passed through the teachers sitting behind him.
"This way Potter." The headmistress spoke with a frosty tone quite unlike the pseudo warmth he had experienced beforehand. Her magic seemed to churn in tangent with her turbulent emotions. She led him to the far-left table, where disdain and rage were predominant amongst the older teens, whilst the younger years tried to ignore him completely. The rare few gave him curious looks.
As he made his way to the table, it was as if a dam had been broken. Words which sole purpose was to condemn reverberated around him.
"Slytherin?"
"I saw him on the train, he was quiet and hardly spoke."
"His eyes, they're so freaky!"
"We didn't get Potter…"
The dissatisfied words washed over him, and he felt keen eyes burning into his general direction. If he didn't have a lifetime of experience getting acquainted with the harsh reality of fickle and ungrateful people, he would have let them get to him, instead, with all the poise he was once known for, he ignored. 'The Uchiwa fan after all does not care which direction the wind blows, as long as the fire burns.'
The hall once more descended into hush sombreness as the Headmaster took the stage, a genial smile aimed at the students, eyes twinkling, and arms wide. The old man seemed to be giving the students a distant hug.
Even from where he sat, he felt the vitality and warmth the old man past his prime seemed to radiate. His "magic" was a veritable ocean compared to the other instructors, the illusion of the Hokage standing in the headmasters' place reflected in his mind and he turned his head, he couldn't bear to look at the ghost of his past.
"Welcome," Dumbledore said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
The thrum of magic resonating throughout the great hall and stopped at the plates littered throughout the house tables. One moment there was no food, the next there was an overabundance.
There was a crack beside where he sat at the end of the table, away from both students and far away from the head table where the teachers sat.
The humanoid creature was approximately three feet, showed signs of balding, skinny, and had a dark grey complexion.
"Mr Potter sir, headmaster Dumbledore requesting Dimpy to aid you in eating." Spoke the elf, bulbous eyes shining underneath the candlelight.
Mutterings broke out amongst the rest of the house, some even had the temerity to point at his eyes, brokering off into laughter.
"Thank you Dimpy, I can manage, if you'd be so kind as to load some steamed vegetables, roast potatoes and chicken please. I can do the rest."
With a click of a finger, the appropriate items of sustenance were neatly deposited onto his plate. With another crack, the elf departed leaving him alone to dig into his food. As he ate, he felt a chill from nearby. He faced the direction to his right and saw a horribly disfigured ghost sitting a seat away. He had blank dead eyes, a gaunt face and robes stained with silver blood.
"Welcome, Harry Potter," the Bloody Baron said softly. "I feel that Slytherin house will benefit by having someone like you in it."
Harry's smile was bittersweet. "Thank you."
Magic truly was intrinsically different to chakra. The departed spirit clinging to the mortal plane was evident of this. If they had been the same, maybe Sasuke would have had family members to keep him company as ghosts after he'd brutally slaughtered them.
Loneliness truly was a curse.
His musings were interrupted as the crumbs from his empty plate dissipated. Dessert had also come and gone, he wasn't a fan of the desserts served. The Baron along with the other apparitions floated away as the headmaster once again stood.
He kept his eyes firmly on the glistening plate in front of him. The headmaster spoke of a forbidden forest that prohibited students from access. Another forest tugged at his memories, one of death. A potential training ground for him to keep his skills sharp. Something about quidditch. An unfamiliar term. Knowledge was power, this common adage rang true everywhere. He'd have to find the library to acquaint himself with everything. And something about a corridor that was out of bounds to everyone who did not wish to die a painful death. Maybe he should seek it out. It wouldn't be the first time he thought about his death. Only the thought of returning to Sasuke dislodged that notion from his noggin.
He resisted the urge from snapping the wrist on his shoulder. He'd spent years channelling chakra through his body to reach the level of attainment he had just before he suffered from his chronic illness. He could now snap the hand without augmenting himself. Turning to look at the person holding him, it turned out to be a teacher. Greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.
It happened in an instant, once the hooked nose teacher gazed into his eyes, a sharp hot pain shot across Harry's eyes. The pain subsided a second later, but not without the hook-nosed teacher taking a shaky step backwards, handgrip lessening its tension on the boy's shoulder.
"Mr Potter… If you'd follow me. The rest of Slytherin house are already making their way to the dormitory."
It was only with his vaunted skills in the esoteric art of occlumency that prevented the profound rage he had buried deep within himself from being unleashed. He hoped this was the first and last time he gazed upon the unseeing eyes of the boy before him. The same sheen of green as hers.
The boy stood and followed the rest of his slytherins. He made to follow, cloak billowing behind him, whilst a look of intense concentration was plastered inside his inner mind.
'What is Tsukuyomi?'
His occlumency prevented anything but a cold, apathetic visage from showing on his face.
***Break***
"Welcome to the greatest of Hogwarts's four houses."
Harry's attention fixed on the man who he just realised was the head of his house, who'd introduced himself as Professor Snape. The snake motifs littered around the room drew an uneasy feeling in him. Reminding him so intimately of Orochimaru.
"We have new members sorted into the prestigious house of Salazar Slytherin. We even have the great Harry Potter." There was a noticeable sneer as he spat his name, much to the pleasure of the older teens. It clearly showed that the man did not like him.
"There are only a few rules of what are expected of you. Follow them and I will not be displeased, break them and risk attracting my ire." He turned to glare at them all. "The rest of the houses are prejudiced against us. They will target you, goad you into action. I advise the opposite. Do not act where you will be seen. A true Slytherin strikes under the cover of shadows. Any disagreements and rivalries between one another are to be dealt with inside this dormitory. Any fractures shown outside these walls will incite weakness. And weakness will displease me."
The words were layered with double meaning and subterfuges. They were designed to infringe upon his status of being a Slytherin. He didn't belong here, and his head of house was making everyone know it. Outside of the common room, they weren't to isolate him, but within the safety of the dormitory they were free to do whatever they liked with him.
There were more subtly hidden mocking remarks aimed at him. Snape continued his spiel on the interpretation Slytherins had on the school rules, the points system, the house and quidditch cup, which teachers to avoid and how to contact him if they were in need of any assistance. The first years were assigned mentors that they had to go to first, before they went to him.
His speech finished, Snape gave one last look around the amalgamation of students, turned around, and walked out of the dormitory. The wall solidifying again after his exit.
He sensed the build-up of magic before it was expelled from the wand. Turning on his side, he watched it collide into the wall without leaving a mark.
"You don't belong here Potter!" Spoke a fifth-year student, his friends, a group of four roaring their approval.
Ah. So, that's how it was going to be. Violence begets violence. But this was Slytherin house. The strong preyed on the weak. And if he wanted to be left to his own devices, he'd have to deal with this here and now.
"Snape isn't here to protect you Potter. Watch your back. You're stuck in here with us!"
"No. You're stuck in here with me." His voice which they hadn't heard before was soft. But that didn't stop the hairs on their arms from rising.
And behind murky green eyes, the Sharingan activated. Three tomoe gently spinning.
His pacifism had been the undoing of his family and had completely alienated him from his beloved brother. This time, he'd be proactive.
"Before we get started, is there any of you that would like to stop?"
The tightness of their grips on their wands answered his question.
***Break***
"Come in, Sirius," said Dumbledore from inside the office before Sirius even had the opportunity to knock. He would never get used to the interruption. Sighing to himself, he opened the door to the Headmaster's office and strode in.
In the centre of the room was Dumbledore, sat behind his desk, for the first time since the fateful events of Halloween all those years ago, the man's eyes were not twinkling instead they seemed to look quite solemn. Gesturing to the seat on the right, Sirius sat.
"It begins Albus."
Dumbledore removed the Elder wand from the folds of his robes, pressing the tip to his forehead, he removed multiple strands of blue wisp. He carelessly deposited it into the basin placed in front of him.
"It's been eleven years Sirius. Eleven long years."
"Harry is safe, he's in Hogwarts. And he's healthy. I didn't expect Petunia to raise him well, but she's done a fine job."
"No Sirius, he's not safe. The agents of darkness will stir at his sorting. The wizarding world will vilify him. And Quirrell will keep a very close eye on him."
"Headmaster, I don't understand, why don't you just deal with Quirrell yourself? Spare Harry the grief until he's ready?! He's just a child..."
Before Sirius Black's eyes, it seemed as if Dumbledore had aged a hundred years. The solemnness in his eyes reaching its crescendo.
"We must kill the boy, and let the man be born."
AN:
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