The very next morning was the start of the term. Waking up early from his pleasant rest, Harry trundled off to the dormitory bathroom to clean himself up, and change into his school uniform. As soon as he'd checked himself over to make sure he didn't look off, he went downstairs to the Great Hall for breakfast.
While he was eating, he was joined by Hermione, then Theodore, then Blaise, and then finally Draco; clearly in the order of enthusiasm and how much they wanted to preen before classes, with Hermione simply cleaning herself up, but with Draco clearly having used some charms or product to make sure his hair looked good and slicked back.
Once Professor Snape had arrived and spoken at arm's length with some of the other professors in the room (including Minerva), Snape began to give out schedules for the year. He was very brusque about it, and very methodical.
The schedule indicated most of the classes through the year would be done with Gryffindors, with the occasional Hufflepuff-Slytherin class.
For the first few days, murmurs from the student body seemed to follow Harry around from the moment he left the dormitory, he tuned them out where he could, but sometimes people were really obvious and really obnoxious about it. Harry had, in his youth, come to get a better understanding of the best ways to navigate the changing hallways and staircases of Hogwarts. This provided him a very convenient way to avoid Filch (whom Harry detested, mind you).
The first days of classes were mostly a breeze, with very little application of wandlore. It was primarily spent with the teachers explaining the expectation of conduct in their classroom, and generally getting an idea on what they could expect over the term. The Charms professor, Flitwick, had been mostly star-struck by Harry's presence, and it wasn't much of an "open secret" that he had been somewhat cross that the Sorting Hat had placed Harry in Slytherin.
History of Magic was one of those courses that everyone sort of tuned out– Professor Binns was an ancient ghost of a teacher that had simply never woken up after falling asleep by the fire, and Dumbledore seemed to have not considered it a necessity to fire him. To make matters worse, Binns seemed to have an affinity for goblins, and so most of the class content would comprise of minutae on the Goblin Wars and Rebellions.
Harry looked forward to Herbology and Astronomy as neither one required wands to be practically applied, and enjoyed his first midnight class with Professor Sinistra. She took the class through their star charts and regaled the young first years with the tales of what the constellations meant and did in both wixen history and their relationship to magic.
Harry's first Transfiguration was exciting as well– even if he was not looking forward to when he would eventually be expected to use a wand. He had been barely able to suppress his giggles when students arrived in Minerva's classroom bewildered at the tabby cat perched on the professor's desk. After most of the students had arrived, Professor McGonagall leapt from her desk and reassumed her human form, stunning most of Harry's classmates who had never seen an Animagus before.
She went into a brief explanation about taking Transfiguration deathly seriously and not playing a fool in her classroom. She ordered them to copy down some rules of the classroom, and then turned back into the tabby cat, taking up her pensive position at her desk. It happened to be quite fortunate that she could ambush two Gryffindors, the Ron boy and one of his friends. The two were outright stunned that Professor McGonagall could change forms like that, much to the amusement of their classmates.
Defence Against the Dark Arts was a class that Harry very specifically did not enjoy. The smell of garlic (ew), Harry having to deal with awful migraines afterwards, and the dragging content of Quirrell's explanations about his interactions with creatures (that nobody believed, mind you).
On Friday, Harry found himself facing a 'double' Potions period with the Gryffindors. Professor Snape had seemed to be near to the point of apoplexy at any mention of the Gryffindor house, and Harry could only shudder in fear at the idea of what kind of nonsense would go on during that period.
Just then, an owl swooped down and plopped a note down on top of Harry's porridge. Wiping the envelope clean, he popped it open and read it.
"Who sent you a letter, Harry?" Hermione asked as she sat down at the table.
"Ah, my mother… she wants me to come to her office for tea at four o'clock."
"Professor McGonagall?"
"Aye, she is my mother after all," Harry said, amused. "I guess she wants to make sure my first week hasn't been too bad, and maybe grill me about why I got sorted in Slytherin."
Hermione let out a quiet giggle, and shook her head.
…
The Potions dungeon always seemed to be stiflingly hot and unpleasant. Harry had never liked spending much time down here, but he had always behaved himself around Snape. The man was unnerving and sometimes very threatening, even when he was just minding his own business. While he knew Professor Snape didn't hate him, even being a Slytherin didn't seem to be doing Harry many favors.
Though, Snape certainly didn't treat Harry any worse than anyone else, simply rolling over his name and not hesitating one inch. Once he finished the register, he looked at the assembled First Years critically. He built up the dramatics by launching into his long-winded explanations of what he expected from Potions students. Harry had heard this speech a couple times when he had been saddled with Professor Snape during his first year Potions classes.
After the Professor had finished his spiel, a brief moment of silence lingered before Professor Snape snapped at the bait to grill his newest students, one in particular.
"Potter!" Snape barked suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
"Er," Harry said, before snapping his fingers. "Aye, it'd be the Draught of Living Death, would it not, sir?"
"Good," Snape said cooly, before rounding on a Gryffindor.
"Longbottom! Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"
"Er," Neville stammered, clearly lost. "I d-don't know, sir."
"Did you not think to open a book before coming in today, Longbottom?" Snape said with a sneer before sweeping down the aisles again. There were smatterings of snickering from the Slytherins, particularly Draco Malfoy and his cohort of brutes. Another moment of silence passed before Snape whipped around again.
"Weasley!" He barked.
Ron went rigid, and Harry could see the red-head sweating.
"What's the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"
Ron swallowed heavily, before speaking. "Err, aren't they the same thing, Professor? They're both… aconite, right?"
"Indeed, Mister Weasley. As Mister Potter pointed out, asphodel and wormwood will create the Draught of Living Death; A bezoar, Mister Longbottom, is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat that will save you from most poisons… and Mister Weasley is correct, those two plants are the same, aconite," Snape said, peering around the classroom. "Well," He said, annoyance in his voice clear, "why aren't you copying this all down?"
Things continued at a similarly ruinous pace, Snape had split the class up into pairs, with Harry unfortunately ending up partnered with Draco. They were set to mix a simple potion that would cure boils. He swept around the classroom, giving criticisms to practically everyone, save for Harry and Draco, whom seemed to be quickly falling into place as his favorites. While in the middle of giving some even-leveled praise to the two for the way they were boiling their slugs, the sound of hissing and acrid green smoke filling the room alerted his attention.
Neville had managed to melt through Seamus' cauldron and the potion had seeped all over the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Neville, on the other hand, had gotten some of the ill-prepared potion all over himself, and was now breaking out into angry red boils.
"Idiot boy! Did you add the porcupine quills before removing the cauldron from the fire?" Snape raged at Neville, who was whimpering as boils continued to pop up on his body, the newest one taking shape on the boy's nose.
Snape whipped around to look at Harry. "Take him up to the hospital wing, Potter," He said, before turning back to Seamus. "And one point from Gryffindor for such irresponsible lab safety."
Harry stood up and made his way to Neville. "Come on, Neville. Let's get you to the hospital,"
As they made their way up towards the Hospital Wing. Harry sighed.
"I'm sorry about Professor Snape. I know nobody in Slytherin is going to apologize to you for the way he treated you, but I'd rather just say… sorry," Harry said.
"It's okay, Harry, I know it isn't your fault," Neville said quietly in a strained voice.
"Right, but if you need any help with Potions, let me know. I can at least do that, if nothing else…"
He passed Neville off to Madam Pomfrey, who began to fret and fuss over the boy. Harry returned to the Potions dungeon to gather his things. The class had dismissed since then, and Snape was sitting at his desk, gathering his belongings.
"Your bag is right here, Potter," Snape said, setting Harry's bag on his desk.
"Thank you, Professor," Harry said with a quiet smile, accepting his bag. "Say, Professor, do you think next time I could be partnered with Neville?"
"Why would you want that, Potter? I'd rather not have to explain myself to your mother that I let her son get maimed by a botched potion."
"Perhaps I could help Neville improve, rather than just spinning his wheels and getting sent to the hospital wing every week," Harry offered.
"Mm, fine. I can make some adjustments to the arrangements. You're dismissed, Potter."
Harry left the dungeons behind, feeling reasonably confident about the whole thing. He made his way up to the Deputy Headmistress' office. Giving the password to the statue guarding the door, he knocked on the door.
"Who is it?" Minerva's voice came through the door.
"It's me, Mum. Harry."
"Ah! Come on in, dear!" She shouted back. Harry opened the door, and Minerva looked up from her desk.
"Goodness, is it four already? Come in, come in, have a seat. I was just going over Severus' incident report from earlier. Did you take Mister Longbottom to the Hospital Wing?"
"Aye, mum, felt bad for the poor bloke. He was in a wrong way when Professor Snape rounded on him. I actually asked the Professor if I could be his partner from now on,"
"Noble deed, my son. Now, tell me how your first week has gone other than Severus' little potions theatrics."
"Not terribly, haven't had a chance to see Lala yet, I've got Flying with her next week, but everything else has gone well. I'm nervous about Charms and Transfiguration with this wand, but perhaps I can muster through and not get done in by irritable magic."
"I have confidence in you, Harry. Though I am certainly surprised at the house you were sorted into."
"Aye, as am I. Didn't think I'd end up in Slytherin. The Hat was pretty insistent on it, though. Said I had some traits of that house, and that I'd be a good way to break down the bias against Slytherins. Personally, the house I ended up in didn't matter nearly as much."
"Hmm, I guess it's for the best you aren't in Gryffindor anyway. I'd have to bring another professor in to be your liaison for school matters."
…
The following day, a Saturday, was the first flying lesson of the year. Slytherin and Gryffindor would end up sharing the experience together, and Harry was feeling a little mixed about the whole thing. He certainly had the necessary experience to cruise through the class, but he worried about the animosity between Gryffindor and Slytherin throwing a spanner into the works.
Of course, as they were getting ready to head down, Professor Snape stopped Harry at the door.
"Mister Potter," Professor Snape said cooly. "You won't be needing to head down to the flying lesson."
"Why not, sir?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"Your mother is, after all, the Flying instructor. She has assured us that you are… quite able in the realm of flying. I promised I would do my best to judge this to see if you are at the standard we would require of a first year student… so, we shall go to the Quidditch pitch."
"I see," Harry said quietly. "Of course, Professor. Of course."
Harry and Professor Snape made their way down the winding path to the large Quidditch pitch at the far-end of the school, while the other first years were corralled by Lala into the quad where they would practice things like mounting their broom. That firmly put behind him, he stepped onto the large pitch, where Professor Snape eyed him critically.
"Go on, then," Professor Snape said with a grumble.
Harry approached the side of the loaner broom from the school, and stuck his hand out.
"Up."
The broom smacked firmly into his hand, and Harry then mounted it, kicking off with both his feet. He hovered gently off the ground, only a couple feet.
Professor Snape's eyes glistened with interest and he said, "Potter, I want you to fly a lap around this pitch. Do you think you can do that without falling off your broom?"
"Aye, Professor," Harry said before plunging the broom down and speeding off to the far-end of the pitch. He then performed a high-speed lap around the track, moving with the grace of a child who had spent much of his formative years around broomsticks and Quidditch. He idly wondered if boys like Draco or Theodore would have an easier or harder time with it all than him.
"It is quite a shame they do not permit first years on the Quidditch teams. Potter, you pass with flying colors. Once you've made it to second year, Potter, please do come see me when Quidditch tryouts open up," Professor Snape said as Harry disembarked from his loaner broom.
"Professor?"
"We're always looking for talent to keep our Quidditch House Cup from falling into Gryffindor's grubby hands."
"Ah, that's right. Mum always goes on about how you've won every Inter-House Quidditch Cup since she adopted me."
"In no small part due to my emphasis on discipline and only recruiting promising young Slytherins into the team, I take Quidditch just as seriously as I do Potionwork, Mister Potter."
"That is to say, very seriously then, Professor. Serious as a shark attack." Harry said, a smile crossing his face.
"Indeed," Professor Snape said, a slightly amused grimace crossing his face in response.
As Professor Snape and Harry made their way back up to the castle, the sight of a red-faced Professor McGonagall holding a squrming Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley was their welcoming committee.
"Professor McGonagall," Professor Snape said, his cool exterior reasserting itself. "What seems to be the problem with Mister Malfoy?"
Professor McGonagall held up a tiny glass orb–Harry recognized it as a Remembrall, he'd seen those in the Daily Prophet once or twice in advertisements.
"Mister Longbottom injured himself when he lost control of his broom. Madame Hooch took him up to the hospital wing, but I witnessed Mister Malfoy here," She gestured to the boy in her grasp. "Getting into a fight with Mister Weasley after stealing Mister Longbottom's Remembrall off the ground."
"I see," Professor Snape said, glaring at Malfoy. "Perhaps, Professor McGonagall, we may come to an arrangement to prevent allegations of unfairness?"
"I'm listening, Severus," She said crisply, causing Harry to wince slightly. The tone in her voice was the same one she often used when she was thoroughly displeased. Minerva was a strict disciplinarian, but not in the sense that she was violent. She just loved loud, nearly screaming lectures. Harry had gotten a couple of those in his youth, and didn't wish for any child to get one of those at Hogwarts.
"Perhaps I can arrange for Mister Weasley's detention, and you Mister Malfoy? It would be only fair," Professor Snape said, raising his eyebrow to a fine arch.
Professor McGonagall nodded slowly. "That seems fair, Professor."
"Good," Professor Snape said, before turning to Harry. "Mister Potter, I trust you will be able to make your way to the next place you have to be, while I take care of Mister Weasley here."
"Of course, sir," Harry said, deferentially. After the red-headed Weasley boy was handed over to Professor Snape, both Minerva and Professor Snape disappeared in their respective directions to their offices. Harry scratched the back of his head, unsure as to what had just happened.
…
"A detention in the Forbidden Forest!" Draco loudly complained.
"It's your fault for being a git and getting into a fist fight with the Weasel, Draco," Blaise said boredly as he flipped through his Potions textbook.
"Oh, but what did the Weasle get, he got cleaning the Potions dungeon."
"You saw the mess Longbottom left behind the last time he made a potion," Harry said idly. "Do you really want to clean up after him?"
"No," Draco said, grudgingly. "My father will hear about this, though. How dare they send me into the Forbidden Forest with that oaf Hagrid."
"Oi," Harry said. "Hagrid isn't an oaf. The fact that man can manage a herd of thestrals should tell you all you need to know."
"Thestrals?" Theodore asked as he perked up, looking at Harry. "You mean to tell me Hogwarts has thestrals?"
"Aye, I saw them before the sorting. They're the beasts that pull the carriages for the upper year students, apparently only people who've seen death can actually see the things. They look like gaunt, pale horses with their skin stretched as thin as it'll go over their skeletons."
"Besides," Harry said, shaking his head. "Sending students into the Forbidden Forest under supervision isn't exactly a new punishment invented for you, Draco. I'm sure your old man has gone in there a few times for a detention."
Draco simply gave an indignant huff in response.
…
Harry's life proceeded rather boringly for some time afterwards. He'd continued to struggle in his practical magic courses, having taken longer than everyone else in both Transfiguration and Charms to do some of the first spell-work of the term. On the upside of things, he was excelling in other courses instead. Even though he was largely set up with Neville 'Sans Confidence' Longbottom, he'd managed to get Neville to the point where he could make it through class without having a nutty, which was doing loads to improve his new friend's confidence and ability to do things without putting himself down.
Professor Snape even seemed pleased at the times he'd come over to critique their work. One class a couple weeks into the term, Professor Snape had donned a rare smile and spoke loudly. "Excellent work, Mister Potter, Mister Longbottom. Two points for each of you,"
This had earned the ire of Ron Weasley and Draco Malfoy– Harry could often hear Ron belly-aching to his twin brothers or to his pals in some grand fit of jealousy; whereas Draco was simply beginning to shape up to be Harry's arch-rival in success. Hermione was up there as well, but she largely didn't concern herself with socializing, spending most of her time corralled away in the library if she wasn't in classes or in the Common Room.
Neville had become Harry's closest ally in Herbology as well, with him helping Harry with a few problems he had with understanding the specifics of the course. It was a very good exchange, and the two became fast friends, transcending the animosity between the two houses.
For now, things were just fine.