Chapter 5:
September 1st, 1991
As the group of Slytherin first-years wound their way through the labyrinthine halls and staircases of Hogwarts castle, Harry's eyes darted around, taking in the awe-inspiring surroundings. He couldn't help but feel a sense of nervousness and anticipation as he realized that this was where he would be spending the next seven years of his life.
The other students in their group were an interesting bunch, each with their own unique personality and presence. Draco Malfoy, with his sharp features and piercing silver eyes, exuded a sense of effortless superiority. Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe, with their hulking frames and thick brows, looked like they had been carved out of stone. Blaise Zabini, with his inscrutable expression and reserved demeanour, seemed to be hiding something behind his dark eyes.
But it was Theodore Nott who caught Harry's attention. The boy was tall and thin, with long, pale fingers and a quiet, contemplative air about him. He didn't seem to be interested in the other students or in making a show of himself like some of the others. Instead, he walked with a calm, measured pace, as if he was taking in everything around him with a detached curiosity.
Harry felt a twinge of nervousness as he realized that he would be spending the next seven years in the same house as these students, including Theodore Nott. He didn't know how he would fit in with this group of ambitious and powerful young witches and wizards, but he was determined to prove himself worthy of the noble house of Slytherin.
The young Slytherins marched in a line, their footsteps echoing ominously in the quiet corridors of Hogwarts. Harry couldn't help but notice the silence that hung heavy in the air. Every now and then, a whisper would escape from someone's lips, but it was quickly silenced by the oppressive atmosphere that seemed to grip the group.
At the head of the line was Gemma Farley, the Slytherin prefect. She strode confidently ahead, her dark robes billowing behind her like wings. Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration for the girl. She exuded a sense of power and authority that he had never seen before, and it was clear that the other students respected her deeply.
As they approached the door to the Slytherin Common Room, Harry's eyes widened in wonder. The door rose up from the ground, twisting and turning in the form of a great serpent. It was an impressive sight, and Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement at the prospect of living among the snakes.
For Harry, snakes had always been his companions in a world that had otherwise been hostile and unwelcoming. They had been the only creatures that had ever accepted him for who he was, without judgement or fear. And now, as he stood among his fellow Slytherins, he felt a sense of belonging that he had never felt before.
The door finally opened, and the group filed into the common room. Harry took in the sights around him with a sense of awe. The room was decorated in shades of green and silver, with plush armchairs and bookcases lining the walls. The fire crackled merrily in the hearth, casting flickering shadows across the room.
The prefect of Slytherin house stood before the assembled students in the common room, her voice smooth and cool as she spoke.
"Welcome to Slytherin house, where cunning and ambition are valued above all else. Here, we do not cower in the face of darkness, but embrace it, for it is only in the shadows that we can truly thrive.
We do not shy away from power, nor do we hesitate to wield it. For it is only through strength that we can carve out our place in this world and secure our own futures.
But let me warn you, the path to greatness is not an easy one. It is a path that is littered with obstacles and challenges, and it is only through our own ingenuity and cunning that we can overcome them.
You must be prepared to do whatever it takes to succeed…"
Before she reached the end of her speech, however, a voice cut through the air, sharp and angry.
"You heard what I said, Sallow," the voice spat out, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. Harry turned to see who it was and saw a sixth-year boy, fairly average in appearance with his wand drawn on a girl.
She stood there, almost angelic in appearance, with her white hair falling in gentle waves around her face. But there was an aura of power about her that was unmistakable, and Harry couldn't help but feel a sense of awe.
The girl didn't raise her wand, instead she spoke, a soft angelic voice, yet one that exuded danger.
"I suggest you holster your wand and walk away Selwyn."
The boy huffed as if he couldn't believe the dismissal, he seemed angrier as he replied, almost drooling as he snarled.
"You think you can just come back into Slytherin and assume control? You think your special because daddy was scary. Well he's dead, and if you carry on the way you are its safe to assume you will be next." The glint in his eye betrayed the fact that he wanted to be the one to take her life.
"I'm not afraid of you Sallow," He finally spat.
The girl opened her mouth to speak but he cast a spell before she could even start her sentence. In the blink of an eye, the girl dodged the spell and drew her own wand, unleashing a string of spells that tore through the air with a fierce power.
The first spell the boy managed to block with a hastily conjured Protego charm, but the other spells shredded through the shield and blasted him across the room, slamming him into a wall with a sickening thud. The girl simply holstered her wand and took a seat by the fireplace, pulling out a book and beginning to read.
There was a stunned silence in the room as the boy's friends rushed to his side and dragged him out of the common room, off to the hospital wing no doubt. No one said a word, all eyes on the girl who had just displayed such incredible skill and power.
For a long moment, she sat there, lost in her book, before finally looking up at the assembled students with a cool, almost detached expression. "Is there a problem?" she asked, her voice ringing clear in the quiet of the common room.
The prefect of Slytherin house cleared her throat and stepped forward, trying to regain control of the situation. But all Harry could think about was the girl with the white hair, and the incredible power she had just displayed.
Harry stood there, his heart racing with excitement and fear. He had always known that magic was powerful, but seeing it used in such a raw and unbridled way was something else entirely.
He couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the sheer force and beauty of it all. It was like watching a storm rage across the sky, or a wildfire tear through the forest. There was something primal and ancient about the way the magic flowed and pulsed, as if it were tapping into some deep well of power that existed beyond the realm of mortals.
But still, there was something undeniably empowering about it all. Harry felt as though he had been given a weapon, a tool that he could use to defend himself and those he cared about. He had always felt helpless and vulnerable, but now he knew that he too could be a wielder of this great power.
As he stood there, lost in thought, Harry couldn't help but wonder what other secrets and mysteries the world of magic held. What other wonders and terrors lay hidden just beyond his grasp? He knew that he had only scratched the surface of this vast and wondrous realm, and he was both thrilled and terrified at the prospect of delving deeper into its mysteries.
Eventually, Harry trudged up the stairs to his dorm, his mind buzzing with thoughts and emotions. He couldn't shake the image of his brother's hateful expression. Charlus had been vocal about his hatred for Slytherins during the train ride, but Harry had never thought it would extend to him. They were brothers, after all. Blood was supposed to be thicker than house affiliations.
As Harry lay there, staring up at the ceiling, he felt a wave of exhaustion wash over him. The constant effort to fit in and prove himself had taken its toll, and he had never really taken the time to process his emotions. It was like he was living behind a mask, always performing for others and never showing his true self. He longed to be normal, to have friends, to enjoy life, but the Dursleys had stolen that from him. The fear and anger they had instilled in him had consumed him to the point where he had forgotten what it meant to simply be Harry.
As he lay there, feeling the weight of the day's events pressing down on him, Harry realized something else. He was determined to survive, to fight back against those who wished him harm. The raw power of magic he had witnessed earlier had been both beautiful and empowering, and he knew that there was so much more to learn. Hogwarts would be his training ground, and he would emerge stronger and better equipped to protect himself.
But as he thought back to the disdainful look on his brother Charlus' face when he had been sorted into Slytherin, a dark anger bubbled up inside him. Harry had tried to be fair to Charlus, even though the older boy had lived a life of luxury while Harry had suffered. But to be judged and hated simply because of his house? That was too much to bear. Harry was determined to prove them all wrong, to show that a Slytherin could be just as noble and just as powerful as any other house. To show that he, Harry, could be as powerful as anyone else.
As he thought on his family, Harry's emotions were complicated. He had started out angry, but as he had gotten to know his father and brother, he had softened somewhat. James seemed genuinely sincere, and while Charlus was conceited and selfish, Harry couldn't help but feel like he was trying to introduce him to the magical world he had grown up in.
But that look in Charlus' eyes after Harry was sorted into Slytherin had been poison. It had cut him to the core, and Harry couldn't help but wonder if his brother's hatred ran deeper than he had ever suspected.
With a deep sigh, Harry allowed his eyes to drift shut. Tomorrow was a new day, and he was ready to face whatever challenges it might bring.
September 2nd, 1991
Harry woke up in his dorm, feeling refreshed and energized. As he stretched out, he took a moment to appreciate his surroundings. The Slytherin dorm room was different from anything he had ever seen. The walls were made of stone, and the beds were lined up against them. The green and silver colours of the house were everywhere, from the curtains to the bedspreads.
Looking around, Harry saw that the other boys were still asleep. He tiptoed his way to the bathroom, being careful not to wake anyone up. After freshening up, he quietly made his way downstairs to the common room. It was empty, except for the girl he remembered the boy calling Sallow.
She was sitting on one of the couches, her white hair cascading down her back. Harry almost missed a step as she turned to look at him. She gave him a tentative smile, but it did not put Harry at ease. He couldn't help but feel intimidated by the power the girl seemed to wield.
"Finally, another early riser," the girl chuckled, her voice musical and inviting. "You'll find that a rare trait among your fellow Slytherins, a life of luxury breeds sloth, I suppose."
Harry couldn't help but feel uneasy, unsure of what the girl wanted from him. But despite his misgivings, he decided to engage in polite conversation. "I've always been an early riser," he said, recalling his etiquette guides. "Yesterday the boy called you Sallow, I know the surname, but I did not catch your first name."
The girl met his gaze, as if weighing him up, before offering a warm smile. "Amelie, Amelie Sallow. I remember your sorting, you are Harry Potter, no? Estranged son of House Potter."
Despite his discomfort, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of excitement at being recognized. "The one and only," he replied with a smirk.
She smiled once again, before turning the page of the book she had been reading as Harry arrived. Harry couldn't help but think back to the duel he had witnessed the girl take part in, the power she demonstrated had been all Harry could think about since it happened. The girl looked at Harry once again, directly into his eyes, he felt his brain twitch as if being gently massaged before he felt uncomfortable and focused on removing the feeling. Amelie smiled once again, before looking back at her book.
"You have a question?" she stated.
How had she known he wanted to ask a question, he thought he was subtle, yet Harry couldn't help but ask the question burning in his mind. "The magic you wielded, is that typical? Can I learn to fight like that?"
The girl let out a melodic laugh, her eyes twinkling with amusement. "Typical? No, I'd like to think I'm a bit more special than that," she teased. "But with practice and dedication, anyone can learn to harness their magic to its full potential. Its within each and every witch and wizard, if only they have the determination to grasp it." She took a breath, before continuing.
"Blunt for a Slytherin, aren't you Harry," she said with a hint of amusement. "Since it is just the two of us, I will forgive it, but around Slytherin house, it is best to keep things to yourself, to never reveal what it is you want from the people around you, to never reveal weakness."
Her words struck a chord with Harry. He had learned the hard way that trust was hard to come by in this world. He nodded in agreement before Amelie continued, "In terms of magical power, it is hard to define an average. Magic is unique and hardly understood. Each witch or wizard wields magic in a way unique to them, and they are affected by magic differently. I have practiced constantly for years, even before coming to Hogwarts, and it shows. No one in the school can truly match me in a duel. Maybe some of the 7th years, but they are more focused on their N.E.W.T.s."
Amelie took a breath, as if truly thinking about that final statement before nodding subtly to herself. Harry was lost for words, his mind racing with questions. He stared at Amelie intently as she stared back, the silence between them thickening.
"Thank you," Harry finally replied, breaking the silence. He was grateful for the insight, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Amelie was sizing him up for something. As he turned to leave, she spoke once again, this time not making eye contact with him.
"There's a book in the private Slytherin library, its title is 'Occlumency: A Beginner's Guide.' I recommend you read it. You'll find it will help you if you truly wish for power."
Harry was taken aback by the unexpected recommendation. Why would Amelie, of all people, want to help him? Especially after warning him not to trust his fellow Slytherins' intentions? As he made his way to the Great Hall, he couldn't help but wonder what the girl's true intentions were.
September 2nd, 1991
Breakfast was a blur of activity as Harry devoured his meal, the aroma of freshly baked bread and sizzling bacon filling his nostrils. He relished the taste of the food, eager to fuel himself for the day ahead. His excitement mounting, he reached for the class schedules, his fingers trembling with anticipation, potions.
Gemma Farley, the stern yet poised Slytherin prefect, came and collected the first years and ushered the group of them towards their first class. They trudged along in silence, the air thick with tension. Harry had hoped to make a friend or two, but the other first years seemed more interested in keeping to their already established groups.
The Potions classroom loomed ahead, its walls lined with shelves upon shelves of bubbling cauldrons and jars filled with mysterious substances. Despite his reservations about the subject, Harry felt his heart race with anticipation. He couldn't wait to take part in his first class at Hogwarts.
As he entered the room, he scanned the sea of faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of his brother. But he saw no sign of him yet. Disappointed, Harry took his seat, eager to begin the class.
Professor Snape, a tall, imposing figure with a hooked nose and greasy hair, strode into the room, his dark eyes scanning the students with a cold, calculating gaze. Harry couldn't help but feel a pang of fear as the professor began to speak.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class. As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few…" Professor Snape's voice trailed off as Charlus Potter stumbled into the classroom, looking dishevelled and groggy. Harry watched as his brother made his way to his seat, receiving glares from some of the other Slytherins for causing a disturbance.
Snape's attention shifted to Charlus. "Mister Potter, I trust you had a good reason for interrupting my class?"
Charlus shook his head, still catching his breath. "I'm sorry, Professor. I overslept."
Snape's lip curled in disgust. "I see. And what excuse do you have for thinking that rules do not apply to you?"
Charlus looked down, clearly ashamed. "None, Professor."
Snape sneered. "Clearly, the Potter family has not lost their talent for arrogance and entitlement."
Charlus practically snarled at the professor, his jaw clenching tightly as he struggled to keep his mouth shut. Harry could feel the tension in the air, thick and palpable.
Harry himself bristled at Snape's comment but kept his face neutral, not wanting to draw attention to himself. He shifted his focus back to the front of the class as Snape continued his lecture.
"Mr Potter," said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
As Snape asked his question, Charlus began to stammer out a response, only to be abruptly cut off. "Not you, Potter," Snape snapped, his eyes boring into Harry. "Slytherin Potter."
Harry looked up shocked, his attention having briefly wandered. Snapes eyes met his own, black eyes almost staring directly into his soul. Harry's heart raced as he suddenly found himself the centre of attention. He shifted in his seat, trying to avoid Snape's intense gaze. For a moment, he panicked internally, afraid he might not know the answer and prove himself a failure in front of the entire class. But then he remembered the assigned reading, and the answer came to him.
"Uhm, I believe Asphodel and wormwood make a potion called Draught of the living death, a powerful sleeping potion," he said slowly and quietly, hoping his voice wouldn't betray his nerves.
Snape's expression remained neutral, but Harry could sense a mild annoyance emanating from him. "Correct, Mr. Potter," the professor said, his attention shifting to the rest of the class. "And yet, many of you seem to have forgotten even the most basic potions ingredients. A brief scan of your assigned materials should have granted any of you the answer to that question. Think wisely of how you are spending your time."
The momentary relief of having answered correctly quickly dissipated as Snape turned his attention back to Charlus. "Other Potter, where would I find a Bezoar?" he asked, his tone clipped.
The boy seemed to hesitate, as if unsure of how to answer the question. Hermione, the bushy-haired girl Harry had met on the train, had her hand raised so high it looked almost painful, yet Snape ignored her, his attention solely focused on Charlus.
"Maybe in your potions supply cupboard?" Charlus tried, clearly not happy to be called on. Snape tutted and looked back at Harry, his black eyes piercing. "Your brother has clearly not been as diligent as you, Slytherin Potter. Can you demonstrate to the class why reading ahead is valuable?"
Harry hesitated, knowing that if he answered a question his brother had failed at, it would most likely strain their already fragile relationship. But he couldn't help feeling excited at the opportunity to prove himself, to show that despite being cast aside, he was the stronger of the two brothers. He knew the answer, it was in his potion's textbook, and despite the potential consequences, he decided to answer the professor's question.
"A Bezoar is a stone found in the stomach of a goat. If swallowed, it would protect you from most poisons, with some notable exceptions," Harry said confidently, glancing over at Charlus, who was throwing him a murderous look. "It was on page 17 of our potions textbook."
"Correct, Mr. Potter," Snape replied, before turning his attention back to Charlus and asking him a third question. Charlus fumbled for an answer, losing Gryffindor house points in the process. He looked as though he was about to explode, but before he could, Snape looked at Harry once again.
He didn't speak, but his black eyes seemed to bore into Harry's very soul. It was a profoundly odd sensation to be fixated on in such a way. Snape broke eye contact and turned to the blackboard behind him, writing down a potion recipe.
As the class continued, Harry couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt. He had shown up his famous brother, and Charlus was clearly angry. Harry knew that his brother had done little to him, and that they were both merely children whose lives were dictated by their parents. It was wrong to raise himself up at the expense of his brother.
But the feeling of satisfaction lingered, nonetheless.
As the day went on, Harry felt a sense of excitement building inside of him. The more classes he attended, the more he realized just how much he loved magic. Each teacher had their own unique style, and Harry found himself captivated by their knowledge and expertise.
In Charms, Professor Flitwick was a tiny, cheerful man with a high-pitched voice. He stood on a stack of books to reach the chalkboard, and his wand seemed to move with a life of its own. Harry felt a warmth in his chest as he watched Professor Flitwick wave his wand and produce a shower of glittering sparks that illuminated the room like a starry night sky. He was quick to catch on to the charms, and soon he was making objects levitate with ease.
In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall was a strict yet fascinating teacher. Her piercing gaze seemed to penetrate right through Harry as she lectured on the principles of transfiguration. Harry listened intently as she demonstrated how to transform a matchstick into a needle. When it came time for the students to try their hand at the spell, Harry was one of the few who managed to succeed on their first try. Professor McGonagall gave him a rare smile of approval, and Harry felt his chest swell with pride.
Before long his first day of Hogwarts was coming to a close, he made his way toward the Great Hall once again, following behind the Slytherin first years. Harry knew that this had been the best day of his life, he had finally been able to demonstrate himself as capable, no other student had grasped and used magic as he had during these first classes, it made him feel alive, as though finally he was somebody, somebody who mattered, and he was determined to keep it this way, no matter what. He still hadn't been able to speak to his brother, but he could tell Charlus was angry, furious even. Harry only hoped that he could smooth things over at dinner but he doubted Charlus was ready to talk yet.
Harry took a seat at the table, next to another Slytherin first year, Theodore Nott, Harry realised. They hadn't spoken yet, but Harry was interested in the quiet boy, he sensed familiarity in the boy's personality.
After a few moments of silence, Theodore cleared his throat and turned to Harry.
"Hey," he said, his voice quiet and measured. "I noticed we have a few classes together. How do you think they went today?"
Harry was surprised by the sudden conversation, but he welcomed the opportunity to connect with someone in his house. "They were interesting," he replied, his own voice also low. "I enjoyed Charms the most. What about you?"
Theodore nodded in agreement. "I thought Professor Flitwick was quite good. And I found Transfiguration to be fascinating, although Professor McGonagall is a bit intimidating."
Harry smiled slightly. "Yeah, she's definitely strict. But she knows her stuff. I was pretty happy when I managed to turn my matchstick into a needle on the first try."
Theodore's expression softened slightly. "Impressive. It took me a few tries to get it right."
The conversation continued like that, with small talk about classes and professors. Harry was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Theodore, despite their reserved personalities. By the time dinner was ending, they had exchanged a few jokes and even laughed together. A rarity in Harry's life.
Despite an enjoyable conversation with Theo, Harry knew he had to catch his brother before dinner ended. He said goodbye to Theo, before making his way toward the Gryffindor table.
Charlus saw Harry coming and stood, indicating that he should following him out of the Great Hall. Harry did so, the two of them eventually coming to stop in an alcove outside the Great Hall, the air between them was tense, Harry could see that Charlus was angry, it was just a matter of how angry he truly was.
Finally, as if to answer Harrys unspoken questions Charlus hissed,
"Slytherin Harry! Why the hell did it have to be Slytherin. Any other house, goddamn, anything but Slytherin. How could you do this Harry? How could you choose Slytherin!"
Harry cut his brother off, irritated at Charlus' tirade.
"Choose? I didn't choose anything Charlus! I was made a Slytherin by our father! He left me to be abused at the goddamn Dursleys while you both lived in an actual mansion! Now you have the nerve to be mad at me being sorted into Slytherin! Do you even realise how selfish you are being!" Harry finally finished, having to take several deep breaths because of his own outburst.
Charlus looked started at Harry's outburst, his anger seemingly dissipating somewhat.
"Abused Harry?" He asked finally, shock in his deep brown eyes.
Harry hadn't realised it, he was just so angry at the nerve of his brother that he just blurted it out. He hadn't meant to, Harry scolded himself for behaving unbecoming of a Slytherin. He had to answer, Charlus was looking at him, waiting to hear the truth.
"I don't want to talk about it Charlus, but know, I did not have it easy, and every day I live I am reminded of that." Harry said, "I am a Slytherin Charlus, but I am not some evil stereotype like you seemed to believe, I am a Slytherin because I had to be to survive, and not one day goes by that I am not thankful for the traits that kept me alive."
Charlus looked shocked, his anger had been completely drained. He looked at Harry with a new expression, sorrow. He started to speak, "Harry… I am so sor- "
Harry cut him off, "don't give me that Charlus, I don't need your pity, I only want you to understand, we don't have to be rivals because of our stupid houses."
Charlus nodded before speaking, "I don't want to be rivals, It's just Slytherin, Dad has spent my entire life telling me how bad Slytherins are, then my own brother is sorted into the house of snakes, it didn't help when you made me look like an idiot in potions this morning."
Harry smiled guiltily, "I am sorry about that Charlus."
Charlus nodded seemingly accepting the apology, yet it was clear there was something on his mind.
"What's up?" He asked Charlus, eager to smooth things over with his brother.
Charlus looked into his eyes, his expression so serious that Harry thought what ever he had to say was a matter of life and death, finally he spoke, his tone grave.
"Harry," He started his voice low, "Please tell me that you think Snape is a bastard."
Harry laughed despite the initial seriousness of the conversation, Charlus laughed too and the two brothers soon found themselves talking cordially, and with a final handshake a promise to meet up again the two parted ways, both happy to have settled their differences.
A.N Hi guys, a fairly small upload today but I just wanted to get this chapter out, things will begin to move slightly faster now all the setup for Hogwarts is done. If you have any notes, I'd be happy to hear them in a review, thank you for reading, have a great day!