Chapter 10: The Head of Slytherin House

The first years were led through the castle and down into the depths of the dungeons by the prefects. They passed a large number of stairwells, doors, intersections and the like, leading to Harry's newest anxiety: finding classes and other places in this jumble.

At last, they reached a section of the wall, completely bare.

"This is the entrance to our common room. There is a password you have to know to gain entrance," one of the prefects, a girl named Morrigan Cross, explained.

She turned towards the blank wall and said, "Astutia."

Before the eyes of the awed newcomers, a section of the wall glided out of the way and revealed the Slytherin common room. It was a large, low room, decorated in varying green colours. There were sofas, dark wooden cupboards and a few tables, along with chairs. The walls were adorned with various portraits and a large, green crest with a snake emblazoned on it. Dominating the room were two large fireplaces. Harry assumed they were there for cold days, as the porthole in the back wall made it quite clear they were partly under the lake, which had to be cold in winter.

"Gather here, in a line, if you will. Professor Snape will be with us, shortly," Morrigan ordered briskly and the first years complied. Harry stood next to Daphne and a boy one could only describe as extremely medium: He was of medium height with medium build, had medium brown hair and eyes in pretty much the same shade. Just like Harry, he was looking around the room in awe. Studying the boy for a while, Harry noticed his robes were looking used, a little washed out, definitely second-hand. On his other side, Daphne was still elated over having Harry with her in Slytherin and in between surveying the common room, she kept throwing glances over to Harry, smiling like a cat that got its canary.

Harry's examination of his surroundings was cut short, when the same door-that-was-a-wall-on-the-outside opened again to let in the greasy haired professor who had looked at him so curiously after he had been sorted. His black cape billowing behind him, the man walked along in front of the group and came to a stand at the end of the row. He turned, gazed along the line of the first years and began to speak in a silky, smooth voice.

"Welcome to Slytherin, first years," he said, with only the barest hint of warmth in his voice. "My name is Professor Severus Snape, potions master and your head of house for the next seven years. Now that you have been sorted into Slytherin, be aware that most of this school will mistrust you, and while that may be justified in some cases," at this, he seemed to throw a small glance to Malfoy and his two goons, though Harry was not sure if he imagined it, "in most cases it will not be more than prejudice."

The first years looked at each other worriedly now, except for Daphne, whose good mood was seemingly unbreakable. However, the boy on Harry's other side looked completely terrified.

"As such, I do not allow disunity inside this house, do you understand?" When the first years nodded, Snape continued, his imposing presence growing even more, "Inside of Slytherin, you will stick together. If you have a problem with each other, you will resolve it in the common room, should that not work, you will come to me. You will not carry out your disagreements all throughout the castle, is that clear?" Again, the whole group nodded. "You may hear from the other houses that you are being favoured by me, but make no mistake: If I catch you breaking the rules, you will pay one way or the other. The other houses will not always see it, but it will happen. For the first two weeks, you will be escorted to every class by an older housemate."

Snape stepped over to the last person in the line, handing out a bag.

"These are wand holsters. As Slytherin is not what you would call appreciated within these halls, you will always wear it to always be able to defend yourself. Put them on your arm."

After everyone had taken one of the holsters and put it on their arm, he continued, "As for the common room, the password changes every fortnight and the new password will be posted to the noticeboard with enough warning. You are not to tell it to anyone outside this house, neither are you to bring anyone here."

Cloak billowing, the imposing professor now strode towards the wall. At the last moment, just before stepping through the door, he turned once more and announced in an icy-cold voice, "I will not allow bullying inside this house, do I make myself clear?"

Only after looking each and every one of the new students in the eye and receiving a nod of acceptance did he turn around and leave.

Following Snape's talk, the female prefect again took the lead, making Harry wonder whether the male prefect was at all interested in his job.

"You will be sharing your dorm rooms with one other person. Boys are the left door and girls through the right," she pointed at two identical doors directly opposite each other on the walls of the common room. "Just don't go broadcasting that you only have to share with one other person, as Ravenclaw and Gryffindor both don't enjoy this privilege. Once you have a dorm mate, these assignments are permanent. Tomorrow morning, be ready by eight for breakfast. Enjoy the rest of your evening," she finished and left.

Of course, Harry would have liked to bunk with Daphne, but since this was not possible he looked around for another possibility. His eyes fell on the expressly medium boy he had noticed before. He seemed nice enough, and his robes suggested he was not some pompous, rich pureblood, so Harry decided to give it a try.

"Hi, I'm Harry Potter," he introduced himself to the boy, who now turned towards him after staring around the room glumly.

"Cennydd Lloyd, nice to meet you," he reciprocated the greeting and held out his hand, which Harry shook.

"Nice to meet you Cennydd, do you want to share a dorm room?" Harry asked his new house-mate, whose expression immediately turned much warmer. Harry also noticed a surprising lack of a reaction towards both his name and his scar, which extremely delighted him.

"That would be great!" A now way more enthusiastic Cennydd Lloyd replied. "But only as long as you don't have a problem with my magical hamster." Harry laughed and said he didn't have a problem.

With a last long hug, Harry wished Daphne good night and both went to their dorms to connect with their new dorm-mates.

The following morning, Harry awoke with a lot of time to spare before breakfast. Therefore, he took the time to really contemplate his surroundings, which he had neglected the previous evening over his conversation with Cennydd.

The dorm room they had been assigned was small, just enough space four two four-poster beds, two small desks, two cupboards and a fireplace. It was done in the same style as the common room, although without the portraits and the Slytherin banner, which Harry was grateful for.

Careful not to disturb Cennydd, he got up, took fresh clothes out of his cupboard, and made his way towards the showers. Having finished his morning routine, now including putting on his wand holster, he went to the common room with a book to keep him occupied until it was time for breakfast. However, when he reached the common room, it turned out he did not need the book to keep him as Daphne was already sitting on one of the dark-green leather sofas. Harry sat down next to his best friend and she immediately snuggled into his side, almost as if automatic and stayed like this for a long time.

After a long minute, she repositioned herself to look at his face and started talking. "Harry, I am so happy you are in Slytherin too. I almost thought I had to be here alone, but if we're here together it will be okay," she said breathlessly, her voice heavy with emotion.

Harry hugged her and whispered in her ear, "I am happy, too. „Again, they stayed like this for quite some time. After they let go of each other, they started talking about the previous evening, Professor Snape and their dorm-mates. Harry found out that Daphne's dorm-mate, Tracey Davis, was a half-blood, daughter of a witch and a muggle. As far as she was able to tell, the small, dark-haired witch was pleasant to be around, if maybe a little chatty.

In turn, Harry related what he knew of his dorm-mate: Cennydd Lloyd, an Irish boy, whose delighting lack of knowledge of Harry's fame came from his status as a muggleborn, the child of a psychiatrist and a botanist. After hearing about the houses on the train, being sorted into Slytherin had understandably been terrifying to him. His familiar was a magic hamster by the name of Jasper, which he had bought in Diagon Alley as a replacement for his late normal hamster.

Time flew by and soon, they were picked up for breakfast. Even for a normal meal, the Great Hall of Hogwarts was an impressive sight as the first years entered. Just like at the welcome feast, the amount of different foods was staggering. Harry and Daphne, together with Tracey and Cennydd, rejoiced in the abundance of choices. As they finished, Professor Snape strode along the table, handing out timetables to the students. The Slytherin first years were led to the Charms classroom for their first ever class: Double Charms, together with the Hufflepuffs. The lesson was nothing special at all, as Harry thought later. They had only been instructed on the right way to hold and act with their wand. Certainly important, but not all that fascinating. The most exciting moment of the class had actually been, when Flitwick the diminutive, but friendly and very adept charms professor, had noticed him and Daphne's unusual wand.

"Mr. Potter, your wand seems quite unusual. May I take a look at it?" He asked and Harry reluctantly handed over his wand. It was indeed quite unusual, or so Harry thought. He had picked it up around a week after his birthday together with Daphne and her mother. The wand was around eleven inches and rather unbendable. The intriguing part of the wand was the wood; it was a beautiful combination of the three different types of wood, seamlessly flowing over into one another, giving the whole wand the look of being almost fluid, a sea of bright, with some darker spots.

The professor took a long look at the wand then ran his fingers along the length of it, audibly drawing in a breath. With a shocked look at Harry, he mouthed what looked like 'elder' and waved the wand.

Nothing happened.

Another wave, no outcome either.

He handed Harry his wand back, and continued his stroll around the line of students that had been practicing how to correctly hold their wand. Yet, all through the lesson, his eyes kept wandering back to the strange wand and his owner.

The following class, Transfiguration, again with the Hufflepuffs, was a little more interesting. Maybe it was because they were actually using magic to try and turn a match into a needle, or maybe it was because their teacher first turned herself from a person into a cat, and backwards, and then her desk into a pig and backwards. In the end, it had hit home for every student that magic was not only some silly wand-waving mixed with incomprehensible words. It was actual work, and Harry and Daphne's success had been limited at best, although Harry did prick his finger at one point at the now pointy match.

Their week continued, first with introductions and then actual magic. There was Herbology, Neville's favourite subject taught by a stocky witch named Sprout. On Tuesday, they had their first Defence against the Dark Arts class which Harry had been looking forward to immensely. However, the class, or rather the professor turned out to be a major disappointment. He would stutter, become awfully quiet when asked about vampires and generally seemed like he could not defend himself from Neville's toad, Trevor.

By Friday, the first years including Daphne and Harry were exhausted. But on this day, Harry had something he had been looking forward to as much as the first Defence lesson - potions with Snape. Although he had been told about the 'greasy-haired old bat' by the Weasley twins and other older pupils that Snape was no easy person to be around and would certainly never win a teacher of the year award, his skills in potion making were never questioned.

On Friday morning an extremely delighted Harry, along with a dejected Daphne and a somewhat bored Cennydd, followed the fifth-year prefect to the potions classroom deep inside the dungeons of Hogwarts. As usual, the group arrived early and had to wait for a few minutes before the first of the Gryffindors, with which they would be sharing the class, started to trickle in. Harry used this time to look around the room. It was a little creepy, that much was sure, even without the various animal parts on display in large glass jars around the walls of the room.

"I hope those are really only animal parts," Harry thought out loud, making even Daphne snigger a little, although he himself was not completely sure how much of it had been joke and how much had been actual concern.

His worrying was cut short by the classroom door opening forcefully. In strode Snape, his cape billowing behind him in a way that finally made Harry understand why some called him bat-like. Like Flitwick and McGonagall before him, Snape did a roll call. He stopped shortly at Harry's name, turned a small glare in his direction and then moved on to the remaining names. The imposing professor now positioned himself in front of the students, his demeanour the same way it had been when he had welcomed the new Slytherins.

As he started to speak, it was just above whispering, yet no one dared make a sound, so everything was perfectly audible. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion making. As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death; if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

"Potter," Snape suddenly turned towards Harry, fixing him with an icy gaze. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry was a little surprised at the suddenness of the question, but given the icy glare he had received from the man earlier he had expected at least some form of attack. Unfortunately, this was a question to which he did not know the answer but he knew something else though.

"I don't know, Sir," he answered in a careful, respectful voice and with as much politeness in his voice as he could muster. He continued, "But, Asphodel is associated with death and oblivion, while wormwood is supposed to induce hallucinations and dream-like states. My best guess would be a strong sleeping potion."

The longer his answer had taken, the more his class-mates had started to stare at him. Even Snape, his face so impassive before, could not refrain from a small look of unwilling approval before he got his face back under control.

"Then, answer me this: Where would I find a bezoar?" He asked, as if determined to find something Harry had absolutely no answer to.

"In the stomach of a goat, Sir," Harry answered, this time promptly and without any doubt or hesitation. Obviously abandoning his crusade, Snape turned his eyes on the Gryffindors, specifically Neville.

"You," he rechecked his class-list before continuing, "Longbottom. What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

His voice a little wavering, the eyes a little fearful but his answer sure, it was a herbology question after all, Neville spoke, "There is no difference, Sir. They are the same, also known as Aconite, or the German's call them Eisenhut due to their…"

"That will be enough, Longbottom," Snape interrupted the boy, with what actually seemed like a little happiness in his eyes.

"Maybe there is hope for this class, after all. Five points to Slytherin for Mr. Potter's answers. Instructions are on the board, start now."

The instructions turned out to be for a simple boil-curing potion that Harry had made before with Tori. He spent little time making his own potion and more on helping Daphne with hers. At the end of the lesson, he turned in a perfect potion. Daphne's was okay.

It was their second week at Hogwarts and despite the already growing workload, Daphne enjoyed it there. She had a lot of time to spend with Harry, granted she had had that even before Hogwarts, but as she had kind of feared she would be sorted into Slytherin and he would want nothing more to do with her, it still delighted her immensely. That was on top of how delighted she always was to be spending time with him in the first place.

"Morning, Harry," she greeted her best friend as he left the corridor with the boys' dorms.

"Morning. How was the night?" he asked in a concerned voice, looking at her strangely.

"Not good, why do you ask?" She answered, intrigued by his weird look and unusually grave voice.

"Just knew, you remember our talk, about how we could feel each other's emotions," he explained lowly, wrapping her in a tight hug. "What happened?" He inquired, concern etched in his features.

"I am fine, don't worry," she reassured him. In answer to his probing gaze, she continued, "It was Tracey. She's homesick and I felt really bad for her, maybe that's what you felt. Or it was just my general sleeplessness."

"Hmm," he commented oh so eloquently.

Their strange connection was something that puzzled both of them. Neither was worried, but it was a mystery that direly needed solving. Through their time at Hogwarts, nothing particularly new had happened, and though Daphne had the feeling the connection grew stronger or at least more stable, she was not quite sure. Part of that was because most of the emotionally charged situations they had had, had happened when both Harry and her had been there to directly experience them. This made Daphne unsure which emotions were hers and which, if any, were Harry's.

"No use pondering about it," her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Harry, who smiled at her and gave a small nod with his head, over towards another sofa where Tracey was now lying, peacefully asleep.

"What do you say we let her rest? I'm sure Sprout won't mind if Neville helps her catch up. Then we can pick her up for Transfiguration later," Harry proposed.

As she could find no fault in his plan, she nodded and they made their way towards breakfast.

Harry was glad he had been right about Professor Sprout's reaction. While she had not been overly pleased, the promise of the whole group of friends to help her catch up, paired with the all too understandable reason for her absence, had convinced the likeable professor of not punishing Tracey for her absence.

"One points for Slytherin, for showing loyalty towards your housemate," she only said after the lesson, and with that Harry knew she really had no ill feelings towards them or Tracey. Sadly though, Professor McGonagall could be counted on to be less understanding, so he and Daphne went to the common room after Herbology to pick the girl up for Transfiguration.

The material in Transfiguration was demanding but also fascinated him. However, the problem was that Harry had more trouble concentrating on his wand and the right frame of mind needed for Transfiguration than usual. He was too excited about the flying lesson later in the day. While he had flown a broom before and found it a completely liberating experience, he wanted to know how he compared to the others in his year.

"Also, I just want to fly again," he silently admitted to himself on the way down for lunch from McGonagall's class room. Daphne, seemingly infected by his elation, skipped beside him, scaring many of the other students just a little, as they were not used to Slytherins being so openly upbeat.

"Really sad existence, though," he continued to muse, "It's as if the whole school never took the time to get to know any Slytherins personally. We're not all like that Malfoy creep."

At that moment a thought struck him, he would have to share a common room with Malfoy for the next seven years.

"Very clever, Harry" he chastised himself, "about time you realised that. Maybe try to make things a little more civil with Draco?"

Over his musings, they had reached the Great Hall.

"Hey, wanna check out what Neville got?" He was shaken out of his thoughts by his best friend. "Rumour has it he has some awesome new gimmick; I want to know what it could be."

Harry was intrigued too, so he nodded towards Daphne, and the two of them made their way towards the Gryffindor table, both very conscious of the suspicious looks they received. Ignoring the inquisitive stares, and one or the other very toxic one, they reached Neville who was just showing off his newest acquisition to a bunch of other Gryffindor first years. To Harry's relief, the Weasley boy was not with them.

"Hey, you two," they were greeted by the shy boy, who promptly raised his hand, containing a marble-sized glass ball filled with white smoke.

"Is that what I think it is?" An excitable Daphne piped up next to him. Judging from her reaction, this thing was obviously something either very exciting, very rare, very expensive, or a combination thereof. Noticing his befuddled expression, Neville turned towards Harry to explain.

"It's a Remembrall. My gran sent it, because I keep forgetting stuff. It turns red if you've…" he never finished, as the ball had turned a bright scarlet-red the moment he clutched it more tightly. "I just can't think of what I actually forgot," he said dejectedly, before returning to his meal and they returned back to their table.

At twenty past three, meaning ten minutes early, a very excited Harry, followed by a still tired but evenly excited Tracey, and a much less excited Daphne could be found in the courtyard where the first flying lesson was scheduled to take place. They took the brooms an older student had advised them to take, because the others were apparently 'completely useless rubbish', and waited for the teacher, Madam Hooch, to appear.

Harry and Tracey were eagerly awaiting permission from Madame Hooch to allow them to fly while Daphne looked less eager. On the other hand, Neville looked terrified and Draco seeing this was sending him smirks. Madame Hooch told them to stand by their brooms.

"Now, I want you to say 'Up'!" Madame Hooch commanded.

The whole group followed the order and Harry could clearly see there were going to be some problematic flyers there.

There was, for one, Neville, whose broom narrow-mindedly avoided following his orders and just lay there, still. Then there was Daphne's, which moved, but only reluctantly, and did not leave the ground while doing so. To top it all off, Ron Weasley actually managed what Daphne had been afraid of at her first try; He was hit in the face by his broom, though Harry was not sure if it was due to the boy who attempted to call it or the abysmal quality of the broom itself.

Finally, when everyone's broom had followed their commands and risen, they were instructed by Hooch how to mount it. Unfortunately, these descriptions did not really stick with either Neville's panicking mind, or his broom. Way before the teacher blew her whistle, Neville kicked off and rose into the air. Hooch's shouts did little to calm him down or get him back on the ground. The moment the clumsy boy looked down, he fell and had to be taken to the hospital wing with a broken wrist.

"None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on, dear," she said before she took off with the frightened boy.

Draco, with whom Harry had sworn to be more civil earlier, started making fun of the inured Neville. When Malfoy picked up Neville's Remembrall, Harry could not hold back any longer.

"Give that back, Draco," he said politely, but with an edge to his voice. He wanted the ball, not get into a fight.

"Hmm, I think not. I think he'll be able to get it himself. From, maybe… let's say, a tree," and he grabbed a broom, only to be stopped in his tracks by Harry.

"I'm not sure you want to do that, Draco," Harry warned, still clinging to the hope of a little civility between him and his housemate. Also, he had no intention of breaking Snape's rules about inner-house fights.

"And who should stop me, Potter?" Draco scoffed, turning away from the group and starting to mount the broom.

"How about McGonagall would as her office is up there," Harry suggested, but Draco just sneered and took off.

Professor McGonagall was sitting in her office grading papers, when in the corner of her eye; she saw something that took her aback. A first year was riding a broom outside her window, above the court-yard. That, in itself was not unusual, but this student was alone. So, she went over to her window and looked down. As she took in the group of very earthbound students and the absence of Madam Hooch, she knew that she had to unleash her wrath

"Malfoy!" She exclaimed as she entered the courtyard and most of the group of students looked at her, eyes wide in shock. Admittedly, some of the Gryffindors sniggered, which the professor did not like to see. "You will immediately march toward Professor Snape's office to wait there for the professor and me," she ordered, her best stern professor look etched into her face.

Just as she made to follow the chastised student, she was held back by someone calling out to her.

"Professor McGonagall," Potter called for her, prompting her to turn around. "Could you maybe get Neville's Remembrall out of the tree? It got stuck up there… during his accident at flying," he said, a look of slight guilt on his face. The Gryffindors all around were looking decidedly ashamed, while the Slytherin students, especially the one she had just sent away, tried their best to look as innocent as possible.

"If that story is true I will eat my quilt," she allowed herself a little silent humour, though her mirth never showed on her stern gaze.

"Of course, Mr. Potter," she said, turned her wand towards the tree and intoned, "Accio Remembrall!" The small ball landed in her hand softly and she gave it to Harry, who thanked her profusely.

It was evening in the Slytherin common room. Harry, Daphne Tracey and Cennydd had just returned from visiting Neville in the hospital wing where Harry had given back the Remembrall, eliciting a sigh of relaxation and a simple, "Gran would have killed me if I lost it" from the newly healed boy. One night in the hospital wing was hardly bad for a 30 ft. fall.

As the group set up their things for some leftover homework to complete, they were interrupted by a very weird looking Draco Malfoy. The usual haughtiness, the self-righteous sneer was completely absent; in their place was utter confusion, mixed with maybe a little relief.

"Potter… Harry, do you have a moment?" He asked almost timidly. Receiving a nod, he sat down on the couch opposite Harry and started to talk.

"Why didn't you rat me out? It would have been the perfect opportunity to get one on me," Draco asked.

"What would I gain from it? We are housemates for the next seven years. I don't know about you, but I'd rather we get along. Plus, you were already caught," Harry answered, voice low and even. "What did Snape do to you, anyway?"

"He was able to save me from expulsion. Now I have to scrub all kettles that get stuff burned into them all year. How could you be sure no one would question your story?" A surprisingly happy Draco asked.

"Slytherins would not rat out two of their own. And did you look at the Gryffindors at all? They were way too embarrassed to admit to not doing anything against you in front of their house teacher. Proud, noble Gryffs, aren't they? Not standing up for their own," Harry explained, a rare, true smile gracing his features.

Maybe he could get at least amicable with Draco after all.

AN: Thanks to my great beta Haphne24 for the great work. Also, thank you all for reading please leave a review.