A/N: In my world, Tracey Davis is muggleborn. I'm pretty sure JKR said she was halfblood in some notes she showed in an interview, but she also showed muggleborns as halfbloods and vice versa, so…

Disclaimer: Blarg. Here is my last disclaimer for the whole fic. You don't need to be reminded each chapter. I am not JK Rowling and I don't own Harry Potter and I am in no way associated with her and the HP Franchise besides my writing fanfiction. There.

"Slytherin!"

No. Oh God (or should it be Merlin, now she's a witch?), no.

Tracey Davis had listened to what the purebloods and halfbloods at said about the houses. Slytherin was for the ambitious and cunning, all right, but it was also only for purebloods. Even the Sorting Hat's song had said it, Slytherin had wanted to only school those whose ancestry was purest. But then why had the Sorting Hat contradicted itself and sorted her into the house of purebloods?

Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if that had been all, but it wasn't all. According to all the first years with prior knowledge of the wizarding world, everyone in Slytherin was obsessed with blood purity. To the Slytherins, she'd just be a muggleborn, a filthy mudblood. A cat among the canaries – or rather, a canary among the cats.

A canary among hungry cats.

But I'm a muggleborn! she shouted to the Hat, beginning to take it off her head.

As Tracey placed it back on the three legged stool, she faintly heard what may have been the Sorting Hat's response: What's your point?

Tracey rolled her eyes and tried to walk to the menacing looking Slytherin table as quickly as possible. It was decked in green and silver, and judging by the hanging poised over it, their mascot appeared to be a serpent. One good thing about Slytherin at least, she supposed. She had always liked snakes. But that did not mean she was a Slytherin; it was like saying if she liked –she looked at the hangings above another table, the Hufflepuff one– it was like saying if she liked badgers she had to be a Hufflepuff.

When she arrived at the table, she walked all the way to the very end, farthest away from the front of the Great Hall. Surely no other first year – or other year, for that matter – would sit here. No one would notice her, no one would antagonize her.

Two other first years had already been sorted into Slytherin. One was a tall and stocky girl with short, dark brown hair; Tracey vaguely remembered her name to be Millicent Bull or Bullstack or something like that. The other one was thickset and for a moment Tracey wondered if there were trolls in the wizarding world. She didn't remember this boy's sorting as well, but she was sure his surname had been something like Crab.

Tracey continued to watch the Sortings, perking up whenever there was another Slytherin Sorted, and then immediately blending back into the background. Soon after she was Sorted, "Greengrass, Daphne" and "Goyle, Gregory" also came into Slytherin. Gregory Goyle had almost the exact same appearance as the Crab boy, but he was a bit shorter and his hair had a bowl-cut. Daphne Greengrass looked okay, but Tracey couldn't be too sure. For all the muggleborn knew, she could be just as much of a blood purist as the rest of them.

After that, all the kids went to Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw. Finally, a "Malfoy, Draco" was called, and a snotty looking boy with slicked back blond hair was Sorted into Slytherin. He looked like the worst of the lot, and when he sat down, Tracey slid almost over the edge of her seat.

After him, the newest Slytherin was another boy, a weedy "Nott, Theodore".

The next Slytherin was a "Parkinson, Pansy" who, when Sorted, sat down straight next to the snobby Draco Malfoy boy and started to simper over him, though she didn't look too happy about it, Tracey observed.

From what she had heard about Slytherin, the next Slytherin Sorting surprised Tracey. She had seen this girl on the train, and with her insufferable perkiness, she didn't seem like a blood purist at all. Nevertheless, "Perks, Sally-Anne" went straight to Slytherin almost as soon as the hat touched her head. Oddly, she seemed to drop the eager demeanor as soon as she sat down.

A "Potter, Harry" was called and for some reason the Great Hall was suddenly filled with murmurs. The boy didn't look too impressive, but his name sounded familiar – hadn't it been in one of the books she'd been skimming through at Flourish and Blotts? After a long Sorting, though, the boy went to Gryffindor.

There was another long wait for Slytherins, and as the list went down to the later letters, Tracey assumed there would be no more Slytherins in her year. However, the very last first year, a "Zabini, Blaise" joined the Slytherin ranks.

All the Slytherin first years – excepting her, of course – sat near each other and started to talk, if rather stiffly and uncomfortably; yet, Tracey also got the feeling they knew each other. She made a mental list in her head.

Millicent – Bull? Bullstack? – Looked like a tomboy, who would readily wrestle and fight. Tracey held herself above such things. No, she wasn't girly, but really, who would willingly wrestle?

Crab boy – Tracey was sure someone had just called him Vincent. Vincent Crab, then? She supposed so. He looked like a troll. And from the way he was shoveling food in his mouth more than he spoke, Tracey felt she had some support to her claim, too.

Daphne Greengrass – Tracey had to admit, she seemed like the best of them. But she had been Sorted into Slytherin, and she would probably despise Tracey for being a muggleborn like the rest of them…

Gregory Goyle – The crab boy's twin troll brother but with a different surname? Perhaps. But she couldn't observe him very well, as he was sitting farthest away from her.

Draco Malfoy – If anyone was a blood purist, it was probably him. He just…looked like it. Tracey supposed she shouldn't assume such a thing if he just looked like a snooty rich boy, but she couldn't help thinking it. He also had the type of body movements that suggested he thought he was the best, the leader, the prince. Snorting, Tracey knew he wouldn't get that from her.

Theodore Nott – Well, he looked better than all the other Slytherin boys, despite the weedy frame and those staring eyes. Actually, he looked quite observant, like she was.

Pansy Parkinson – She seemed pretty interesting, since it looked like she was forcing herself to be Draco Malfoy's serving girl; it was obvious from the expression she wore she didn't want to, though.

Sally-Anne Perks – The girl rather frightened Tracey. She had been so – so perky, just like her surname suggested, before the Sorting, but right when she sat down at the Slytherin table, the smile slid right off her face and was replaced with narrowed eyes and a mouth that looked like the only smile it was fit for was a smirk. Tracey thought she ought to be "the leader" instead of that Draco Malfoy.

Blaise Zabini – He reminded her of a cat that was toying with a frightened mouse, with that smug smile. Occasionally he seemed open his mouth and say a few snide words which would make its recipient glare and spit back a retort.

Not promising, Tracey decided. Even her primary school had been better than this, and they had all been a bunch of ignorant prats who didn't know left from right.

Okay, maybe they were better than the kids in her year at her old primary school. But all the same, Tracey wished she had been Sorted into Ravenclaw. She probably would have fit in much better there.

The password to the Slytherin common room was umbra. Tracey was surprised but relieved at this; she had almost been expecting for it to be something like pureblood.

All the first years were eager to see their dormitories, but before they could leave the common room, the prefect that had led them there, a boy called Henry Konigsburg, stopped them, barking, "Wait here." He left for a minute or so then came back with another prefect.

"Sit," he commanded, and all the Slytherin firsties did so, sitting down on chairs carved from greenish stone. Tracey took a moment to examine the common room, which didn't seem like a common room at all. It had a low ceiling, greenish lamps and more greenish chairs, some skulls, and looked like a dungeon in her opinion. From what she'd overheard of her fellow first years' whispers, it was also located under a lake, the one they'd rowed across to the get to the castle. Though also seeming to scream, "We are evil! We are evil!" it seemed to the Tracey the room had a certain beauty to it.

Henry Konigsburg pointed to Blaise Zabini, who occupied the first chair at one end. "Name!" he said.

"Blaise Zabini," he answered, giving Konigsburg a stare.

Konigsburg seemed unfazed, maybe even used to such a thing. "Pureblood?"

Blaise nodded. "Yes."

Konigsburg gave a slight nod, then moved his gaze to the next person, who was Daphne Greengrass.

"Daphne Greengrass," Daphne said, not bothering to wait for Konigsburg's command.

"Pureblood?"

"Yes."

And so it went on. Tracey learned that every Slytherin first year – every single one – was a pureblood, except for Millicent Bullstack or whatever, who had a squib for a mother, whatever that was. A couple of the first years sneered slightly when Millicent said this, though she returned them with ferocious glares.

Finally Konigsburg got to Tracey, who was seated at the other end of the row.

"Tracey Davis," she said quietly.

Konigsburg's forehead creased, and all the first years stared at her, because the prefect had gotten them all right first time; they obviously didn't recognize her surname either. They were cottoning on.

"Muggleborn," Tracey said in a low voice, supplying Konigsburg's answer.

The prefect raised his eyebrows, but his response wasn't what Tracey expected. "So, only one this year, then?" he said.

Only? Only?! What did he mean, only?

"What do you mean, only?" Draco Malfoy spoke up, voicing Tracey's thoughts. "Are you implying Slytherin gets mudbloods?"

"No," Tracey snapped, feeling as if her feelings for Draco Malfoy were justified, "he's implying that there're maggots in your head."

"Very far from clever, just like a mudblood," Draco sniffed, turning away from her.

"Think you know everything about Slytherin, Draco Malfoy?" Konigsburg said, hands on hips. "You don't know everything, just because you have an ancient family loaded with gold." He turned back to Tracey, then said, "Pay no attention to him. He does not know everything about our house. And neither to do the rest of you," Konigsburg added, looking at the rest of the first-years.

"We," he began, "are not blood purists. This reputation has been gained from the Dark Lord Vol – Vol – Voldemort, fake tales about Salazar Slytherin, and many of the older and richer families who are blood purists that are in Slytherin. Actually, we have as many muggleborns as we have halfbloods and maybe even purebloods in Slytherin. Not that any of the other houses would believe this. However, some Slytherins refuse to believe this and would rather not acknowledge it, so we cast a spell on those Slytherins and the students in all the other houses to believe they are not muggleborn. Our head of house, Professor Snape, lets us do this.

"If any of you here would like to have the spell cast on you along with the students of the other houses of Hogwarts, raise your hand."

Draco's hand moved, but when he looked around and so no one else raising their hand, his stayed down.

"Very well," said Konigsburg. "Draco, according to our archives, your father had it cast on him when he was a student. You cannot complain to him about this."

Draco made a jerky nod and slouched in his chair, scowling.

Konigsburg and the other prefect walked over to Tracey, who, instead of attempting to blend in with the background, just watched in curiosity. The two prefects pointed their wands at Tracey's forehead and began chanting quickly in low voices, so quickly Tracey couldn't even distinguish the words. When they stopped after around five to ten seconds, a small silvery light flashed between the tips of their wands and Tracey's forehead.

"There," said Konigsburg, as the other prefect smiled, "all done. Only we in this room, the other Slytherin students that preferred not to know before, and the teachers know you're a muggleborn.

Tracey nodded, trying to rebuild her image of Slytherin in her head.

Tracey plopped down on her bed, a rather unusual action for her. Her bed stood farthest from the door to their dormitory. Closest to her bed was Daphne Greengrass's, who lie there now, reading a book.

Daphne Greengrass had seemed okay…and now Tracey knew Slytherins really weren't blood purists, just ambitious and cunning, like she had learned on the train ride to Hogwarts. Tracey put one and one together. Getting off her bed, she walked over to Daphne's, standing in front of it.

"Hello," said Tracey, "I'm Tracey Davis."

Daphne lowered her book. "Daphne Greengrass," she responded. "Honored."

A/N: Constructive criticism appreciated.