Chapter 4: Declare thy Purpose
Headmaster Dumbledore was the first to break out of his stupor after Harry's sorting into Slytherin and admonished Professor Snape for the use of vulgar language. "Severus, mind your words if you please. We are supposed to be an example to all pupils."
The remaining first years were then called one by one while Snape continued to shoot daggers at the confident boy politely greeting pupils dressed in cloaks with green and silver trims. Harry still held his long hair in a ponytail, providing an uncluttered view of his famous scar, and after a few name exchanges pulled his magazine from a pocket again, glancing in the direction of the three-legged stool over his stylish gold-framed spectacles after each round of applause.
Ignoring whatever Dumbledore blurted out after the sorting ended, Harry concentrated on his housemates. Bulstrode was a portly girl with very intelligent eyes and an appealing smile, next to her sat another girl who introduced herself as Tracey only, probably the only first-year that was shorter than Harry himself at that table.
On Tracey's right sat the regal-looking and very tall Greengrass heiress, looking down her nose at everyone else while the boy he'd heard planning to order new cloaks with his family crest on them laughed and pointed at the sorted boys and girls in the other Houses. This Malfoy child was trying too hard to impress everyone but only succeeded in drawing the attention of Crabbe and Goyle, two very big fellows who wouldn't have introduced themselves if Malfoy hadn't elbowed them.
Immediately to his left sat Parkinson, a girl whose dark hair rivalled Harry's own in blackness, she had a slight sneer on her face and kept looking curiously back at him, and finally to his right he observed a quiet boy named Theodore who was pulling small vials from his pocket. When asked, he'd explained they were health potions he was required to drink every day and Harry recoiled at the smell coming from some of them. The last Slytherin addition had been another boy, named Zabini, who didn't look Italian at all but who was he to judge?
"Tuck in!" he heard and plentiful food popped on the table, an effect Harry was used to after purchasing his own house-elf. He picked some light snacks and chanced a look at the Staff Table, from where Dumbledore continued to observe him intently with a puzzled look in his bearded face, while his Head of House's face was that of pure loathing.
"I guess Professor Snape isn't much agreeable with the result of my sorting," Harry said loudly.
The table erupted in laughter around him but the nearest older housemates seemed to be of the same mindset as Snape and kept scowling at him. He finished his frugal serving and pushed the plate back, where it disappeared with a pop, and stood up. "Excuse me but I'm finished. I'll meet you inside our common room," he announced.
"What do you think you're doing Potter?" a girl wearing a Prefect badge asked from a few yards up the table.
"Leaving," he answered and walked to the closed doors of the Great Hall, which he tried to push and then pull open, to no avail. Sighing, he turned to see a smiling Headmaster looking back at him from across the room.
"We are yet to complete the Welcoming Feast, my boy. Tell one of the Prefects if you need to use the little boy's room," the ancient wizard instructed as if he were talking to a five-year-old, which incensed Harry's notoriously short temper.
Gritting his teeth at the laughs and pointed fingers, he narrowed his eyes and stood taller in front of the doors. Or as tall as a malnourished boy could, anyway. "I can assure you that I'm quite capable of controlling my bladder, Headmaster Dumbledore. As for my presence until the end of the Feast, will I be required to participate in any capacity other than as a spectator?"
"You will do as the headmaster says, Potter! Five points from Gryf--" Snape yelled but cut himself short, realizing he was about to take points from the wrong House, and if he carried on, he'd be taking points from his own Slytherins. "Just go back to your seat!"
"I'm afraid not. It's my prerogative as a Hogwarts pupil to expect respectful treatment and to receive a reasonable answer to a reasonable question."
"How dare you--"
"Severus, please," whispered Dumbledore while raising his hand in a placating gesture. He then raised his voice and said "There are several start-of-term announcements the alumni are requested to hear, my dear child."
"Requested, not required. I can read the announcements on the board, now please open these doors or I will make my own way out," Harry said as the entire population of the school turned their heads back and forth as if watching a tennis match.
"Alas my boy, I cannot give a single student special dispensations, you will be allowed to leave soon enough," replied Dumbledore with a mad twinkle in his eyes.
"If that's the way you wanna play it," thought Harry, walking back to the Slytherin table. However as he passed a suit of armour he grabbed a battle mace, stepped up to one of the coloured glass windows, and with a mighty swing and green fire in his eyes began hitting it once, twice, three times until shattering it thoroughly in a shower of brilliant glass shards he stepped away from.
Harry then tossed the heavy mace on the table, turned and jumped over the glassless stone arch, searching his way into the castle through any other doors he could find. Behind him, the shards regrouped and reformed the broken window as if he'd never touched it at all.
The Great Hall fell into absolute silence for the second time that night, and Albus Dumbledore pushed his half-eaten plate of shepherd's pie away.
Once around the tallest tower, Harry finally found another set of doors leading into the castle. He then began questioning the portraits to find his way to the Slytherin dormitory, but the few that actually talked back to him after listening to his request simply didn't know for sure or told him he should already know how to get there.
It was after he asked a bald portrayed wizard for directions and found himself staring at a dead-end, a wall full of paintings depicting magical fauna from all over the world, that he received some unexpected help.
"Bloody fuckin' castle! Doesn't anybody know how to get to the effin' Slytherin quarters?!" he huffed throwing his arms in the air.
"If only he wasss worthy..." heard Harry from somewhere, the voice thin, almost like a hiss instead of speech. "We could tell him the way to the nessst... If only he wasss worthy..."
"Who's there?"
"He claimsss to hear usss... We believe he isss worthy..."
"Ridiculousss, we have no proof!"
"We mussst show him the way if he isss..."
Harry began searching the corridor but found nothing, except for the moving paintings. And then, in one of them, he saw a three-headed snake following his every move. The plaque underneath it read Runespoor, African Continent.
"Are you ... talking to me?" he asked, but then concentrated on the magical reptile. "Ssspeak to me again!" he demanded.
"Yesss, he isss worthy!" the creature hissed. "Follow usss, young massster..." it said and began to slither out of its frame, turning into a lively, moving stone relief on the wall. The runespoor then stayed close to the floor, avoiding windows and other paintings, leading Harry deep into the castle through hidden passageways and down to the dungeons.
He followed the beast around a corner and the runespoor called for him. "Ssspeak to usss massster, give usss your word to passs..."
Thinking of a word, he decided to use his knighthood: "Ssscruffgoat," he said and the three heads bowed, one by one.
"You may call usss anywhere in the cassstle, massster. Call for Pang..." the first head said.
"...call for Ping..." the other continued.
"...call for Pong," the last one finished.
The helpful beast turned tail and disappeared when the blank wall opened to revealed a large square room filled with luxurious round tables suitable for one or two people to sit around, dozens of stuffed armchairs and a series of alcoves in opposite walls, green drapes used to block the view from the rest of the room into them and skulls carved all over the bare stone walls. On the far side, two opulent arches led to what Harry believed to be the boys and girls rooms, and a fire pit circled by a silver rail in the shape of a huge serpent dominated the very centre of the common room.
Sitting in one of the armchairs that faced the now closed entrance, Harry relaxed and continued to read, waiting for the rest of the Slytherins to arrive.
"Now, this is our doorway," someone said from beyond the entrance, alerting Harry to put away his reading and sit straighter. "Our password is 'bloodshed', remember it and never allow anyone else to hear it."
"Strange," thought Harry, "I thought the password was the one I'd chosen with the runespoor." He made a mental note to test his own password as soon as he could.
He smiled as the group of new and old Slytherins starting pouring in and froze upon seeing him. "Hello, I've been waiting for you."
"It's Potter!" exclaimed a bunch of them.
"How the hell did you get in?" the leading Prefect asked.
"Password," he said and shrugged. "Now, if you could show me to my room?"
The Prefect scowled fiercely and then showed them the Rules of Tradition for Slytherin. They were written in an old parchment hung on the wall with a thick, decadently ornate silver frame carved with snakes and skulls surrounding it all around.
Harry stepped up to it and began to read while the older boy recited the Rules to them. Slytherins were always the better wizard. They were never to disturb elder housemates for any reason. They were required to submit to an elder housemate's request. And lastly but most importantly, they were free to try any kind of magic within the confines of the Slytherin Dungeons.
This puzzled him in many ways, first because the framed text was quite different from what the Prefect recited, and second, why hadn't any of the others pointed out that fact? The parchment on the wall was signed by Salazar Slytherin, but it was a Code of Honourable Conduct, not a literal mandate to turn younger kids into slaves, nor a supremacist declaration of superiority by simple affiliation to his House!
The first paragraph read that only the worthy would lead the House of Slytherin, welcoming those of pure ancestry to the path of magical studies, and finally thanking them for accepting the burden of carrying the mantle of Slytherin in the search for greatness.
Code of Honourable Conduct
for House Slytherin
after I leave
this Realm
Welcome worthy witches and wizards of wicked tongue and sharp senses, for you shall lead the House of Slytherin by this Code. Welcome peers of pure ancestry and magical might to the path of learning, for you shall study that which makes us rightful masters above all others. Welcome bearers of the mantle of Slytherin, for you shall accept the burden of power. I thank you for your presence, knowing you shall strive to achieve greatness above all else.
First item of the Code.
Every
witch and wizard of the Realm shall bow to the Greater Power and
abide to Its will, for Magic is Might and it runs in our ancient
blood.
Second item of the Code.
Respect
the elders of House Slytherin and acknowledge their superiority, for
they have walked the path you are still to travel. Respect your
equals of untainted blood by honouring your word, speaking your mind
and keeping your peace.
Third item of the Code.
Practice
all Magic to the fullest extent of your powers, for within the walls
of House Slytherin there shall be no frowning upon Dark or White
Magic. Seek the power of Magic itself, for it is absolute in every
form and it shall guide you in your quest to achieve greatness.
May your Magic flourish and lead the Realm into prosperity, ruling above the impure and the inferior.
Salazar Sulayman Slytherin
"Wake up, Potter! You can't read that unknown script no matter how long you stare at it," Malfoy laughed and walked away.
Harry looked at the retreating boy over his shoulder and wondered if he was the only one able to read it. Judging by the looks in everyone else's faces, he was. "Doesn't hurt to try," he said out loud, keeping this knowledge to himself.
At last the Prefect finished his duties pointing at the right archway and saying "females", then at the one to the left and saying "males" before going down that last flight of steps. The first years were left to themselves and Harry decided to retire to his room in order to inspect his accommodations.
There were seven steps down and then a long corridor that ended in a decagon with, predictably, nine doors and the archway from whence Harry emerged. Two of the doors were unmarked while the others had decadently fancy number plates ranging from one to seven.
He entered door number one and found an heptagonal small chamber with six large alcoves. The chamber had a few sofas and a low table in the centre but the alcoves were almost an individual room by themselves, minus one wall and without doors but with the same heavy green velvet curtains that blocked the view in the smaller recesses of the common room.
Inside each was a large enough bed to hold four adults easily, a desk and matching bookcase stood by one of the walls, and a large wardrobe in matching dark mahogany and carved skulls leaned against the opposite wall. Harry saw that five of the beds had trunks at their feet, and realizing he had his own shrunken inside a pocket, walked into the only empty alcove.
Testing the bed and finding it hard enough, though he preferred it even harder, he narrowed his eyes and thought about how problematic the Third Rule as enunciated and accepted was. Probably every other first-year had been asked to do more than questionable things by an older student. More than that, it removed any and all free will from a Slytherin pupil unless he or she could find leverage to defend himself or herself.
In fact, Harry was experienced enough to understand that this was an open invitation to initiation by rape and sexual slavery to any elder dishonourable housemate or, at the very least, to turn younger boys and girls into all-purpose servants! "Bugger it all, I've gotta protect myself..."
"Waxball!" he called after a while, making a decision that might reap more benefits than any trouble he might get into with the older Slytherins.
The house-elf took a few seconds to arrive and bowed low, waiting for his orders while resting his blubber belly on the cold stone floor. Harry went to his desk and scribbled a long note on parchment before ordering the elf. "Give this to Roben, wake him up if you have to and then go bang your head with the frying pan for it."
Waxball popped back next to him almost an hour later and presented a medium-sized golden square box while bowing. Harry picked the container and opened the lid, revealing twenty-five ward stones and a Formal Feudal Protection Notice, already active under the Seal of the Ministry for Magic and sponsored by Onionsupple, binding any and all who sign their name or press a family ring in the charmed parchment to House Potter. He was thus legally able to protect those signatories by any means necessary.
"Good," he said after reading the notes the trusty barrister had sent him. Harry peeked out the curtains and saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle trying to see what was happening inside in turn. He rolled his eyes and put one of the warding stones in the approximate centre of the alcove, which was almost under the left front leg of the bed.
Swiping his palm on the cutting edge of his black dagger, he let the blood soak the runic stone and a faint red bubble exploded from it, creating a nine yards wide blood ward that, although weak, was enough to repel an ill-intentioned witch or wizard for a few minutes and alert him to the danger.
"I hereby allow passage and survival to Peter Pettigrew in Animagus form only," he said while tapping the stone with his wand and unlocking the trunk where the aforementioned rat-turned-hamster was. The petrification should have dispelled hours ago, Harry being still too young a wizard, and he was ready to catch the irritating Death Eater should he try to escape.
Watching the rodent's beady eyes through a slit of the barely open lid, he greeted. "Hiya Peter! Sorry 'bout your tail, but look at it on the bright side, you'll be able to shag a whole new species now!"
Harry laughed and then turned to a more serious matter. "I've put up a defensive ward for my room, it'll only allow you as a rat, never as a wizard, so remember that. I also wanna get my hands on that map you told me about, so I'm gonna let you free to enter the Caretaker's office and check for it there," he said and then narrowed his eyes. "If you even think about running away, I've got Waxball to sic on you. I'll have him throw your puny rat's arse into boiling oil, so don't tempt me!"
These house-elves were interesting things, they knew exactly where their master was at any given time, but they'd also home in on anyone they feel great need to meet or is important for their master. In this case, Harry knew that his elf could find Pettigrew in a heartbeat.
After the calico hamster left, the boy who once lived to survive the day fell back on the enormous bed, planning his long-term goals and confident his life was only going to get better. Magic was power and he was going to use it to achieve greatness, exactly what Salazar Slytherin wanted for his chosen ones.
Harry was walking up from the dungeons after having breakfast and receiving his class schedule from a furious Professor Snape. He shielded his eyes from the streaming morning sunlight as it reflected on the grimy stone, mentally reviewing his books and study material. For a child who dropped out of school so long ago, his progress at reading and writing was something to be proud of, and he was truly exited about learning because it was something he had decided to do.
Briefly wondering if Peter was having any success in his quest, he stopped a few feet away from his Slytherin housemates and leaned against the wall, observing the group. Much like he did in the streets, Harry wanted to know who he was dealing with. The Malfoy boy was educated enough but besides trying too hard to impress everyone, seemed to lack self-control, which admittedly was the thing he'd fumbled most with during the month he became a student to Lord Greengrass. Speaking of whom, his granddaughter young Miss Greengrass was beautiful, but definitely out of bounds or else he'd be hung by his toenails and fleshed alive just for ogling her.
The other girls and boys in his year looked like an interesting mixture of regular children, pureblood fanatics and dumb inbred simpletons, but he needed to analyse the rest of his House to both defend himself and build a circle of acquaintances he could trust in times of need. Offering the protection of House Potter and those nifty ward stones would provide good leverage for that.
His mental planning was put on hold when a loud pack of Gryffindors approached the Potions classroom from the other end of the hallway. Harry hoped the annoying ginger leading them would keep his fan-boy attitude to himself today, but after that brief encounter on board the Hogwarts Express he sincerely doubted it. On second thought, this could become a fun morning after all!
"Malfoy, can I ask for a minute of your time?"
The blonde boy arched an eyebrow and walked towards Harry. "What is it Potter?"
"When the ginger simpleton over there tries to hex me, place a Protego shield over Miss Greengrass," Harry instructed. "Oh, but whatever happens, don't touch her..."
"What makes you think I'd be able to--"
"Don't take me for a fool, Malfoy!" hissed Harry, "I know what your father is, he must have taught you much more than a shielding spell by now."
Malfoy narrowed his eyes and his right hand went into his pocket, probably to grab his wand, but Harry's was faster and he clamped a forceful grip on Malfoy's wrist.
"Control yourself, do as I say and we can talk properly later today. Agreed?" he asked, holding the boy's arm and staring him down with his green-fire in the eyes magic trick. Herr Schwarzherz would be proud.
Watching Malfoy pale to almost ghost-white and nod, Harry smiled and ticked an item on his to-do list. He now had leverage over Draco, and he would have the Greengrass hottie indebted to Malfoy in turn, giving him a chance with Daphne by saving her from the unworthy Death Eater spawn.
"Ah, Mr Weasley, is it not?" said Harry, approaching the Gryffindors. "I wanted to allow you to apologize for the way you behaved towards me yesterday."
The boy standing next to Weasley, a round faced fellow Harry remembered chasing a toad up and down the train, tilted his head and looked curiously back at him. On the other side a freckled boy whispered something to a taller housemate, whose cloak was open and revealed a football shirt he recognized as West Ham United. "Wicked! A football fan!" thought Harry; he'd given up on ever watching another game but now he had some hope.
"Bloody hell! No, I won't talk to some Slytherin dark wizard that defies Dumbledore!"
"I must say, Weasley, that so far you're the most radicalised and uneducated young wizard I've had the displeasure of meeting," Harry said, bracing himself for the hex he was sure Weasley would throw at him.
"Shut up! I'll show you who's ineducationed!" the short-tempered boy screamed and hurled a stinging hex that Harry dodged. The hex spluttered against a shield that Draco had erected and Harry noticed the smug face he sported when Daphne recognized who'd protected her.
"Well, that was weak," thought Harry, standing up and throwing a stinging hex of his own at the boy's left arse cheek.
"Expeliarmus!" yelled Weasley, his face red as a ripe tomato.
Harry pulled the nearest person in front of him, a bushy-haired brunette he hadn't seen before, and the disarming spell hit her in the chest, causing the book bag in her hand to fly away. Unfortunately for him, the girl seemed to take offence at being used as a human shield.
"Idiot!" she yelled and swung around, impacting her fisted right hand into his jaw with a perfect uppercut movement. That insult was the last thing Harry heard that morning before the world faded to black.
"Mr Potter?"
"Owww..."
"Mr Potter, wake up!"
Harry opened his eyes and came face to face with an old lady peering down at him. "Where am I, my fair and kind lady?" he asked, pulling his repertoire of appropriate greetings. He laughed inwardly when he noticed the woman blushing and sputtering an answer.
"H-hospital Wing, Mr Potter. You were attacked in the hallway leading to the Potions Classroom."
Now he remembered. "Damn, that girl packs a punch!" he thought and laughed out loud.
"I fail to see what's funny, child. You could have been seriously injured!"
"Thank you for your concern, milady. It just happens that I haven't been knocked unconscious by a fist to the face since I was six years old!" Harry explained, and then sat up on the bed.
"No, no. Please lay back down, Mr Potter. I am Healer Pomfrey, and I will be telling you when you can sit up and leave," she said and began waving her wand over him.
Recognizing some of the spells Healer Kevorkian had used on him, Harry relaxed and began humming a tune, winking at the Healer and enjoying her frowning reaction. "Am I fit for school, Healer Pomfrey?"
"As far as I can tell... Yes. However, before you leave, someone stopped by between classes and left a note for you."
He accepted the folded parchment and opened it. It was written in a smooth flowing script he could never dream of achieving, and the words were carefully chosen but impersonal. For some reason he smiled, and wondered if he should write a note back or simply approach her in person that evening.
Harry left the Hospital Wing with a polite bow to Healer Pomfrey and, because it was five minutes to lunch time, walked out of the castle to call for Caesar the white gyrfalcon with a loud whistle.
Caesar alighted himself on Harry's outstretched arm and then moved to his shoulder, waiting for him to finish scribbling a note, which he tied to the animal's leg and then whispered the addressee, heaving the large bird up and into the air. With a quick look around, he turned and walked towards the Great Hall, his fancy cloak billowing with every step.
Knowing he was in for some teasing in the table, since they were children after all, Harry steeled himself and sat close to Draco and a very unpleasant Goyle, what with his table manners or lack thereof. He looked around and even Daphne had a smirk on her lips, "Yes, yes, laugh it up. I was tumbled to the ground by a girl, the Muggle way..."
Laughter erupted and while some were laughing at him, making fun of the boy-whose-mother-was-a-mudblood, others had a genuine expression of mirth. He was surprised to discover Crabbe among them.
Looking beyond the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables, Harry tried to find his boxing opponent and finally spotted her as Caesar dove to land gently among the Gryffindors. He smiled at her surprised look and felt amused when she blushed and folded his note, looking both sides before ducking her head and continuing to eat. She didn't throw the note away, however.
So, after an oh so enjoyable lesson on History of Magic with Binn's father, who was actually a ghost, Harry went down to his alcove and changed into a comfortable evening robe, picked his Swiss-zauberer-made pocket watch, resealed his expanded trunk and walked back up to the main courtyard. As a gentleman should always do, he arrived early and held a flower for the lady. Unfortunately he plucked almost all flowers from one of the flowerbeds in the courtyard before finding the perfect one, leaving a maimed bush behind, but that's beyond the point.
"Good evening Miss Granger. Thank you for agreeing to meet me," Harry said and offered the flower. "I also thank you for your concern, I'm feeling well as you can see."
"Thank you... For the flower, it's beautiful," she said. "Oh, and please call me Hermione."
"I see you do have manners after all, Hermione."
"Of course I do!"
"And a temper..."
Hermione sagged and sat on the bench, inviting Harry to sit with a gesture. "I'm sorry Mr Potter. Is Mr Potter the right way to call you? I mean-- Urgh... I've under a bit of stress since your little friends harassed me for being a Muggle-born yesterday on the train, and that little tantrum of yours last night isn't very reassuring either!"
Harry chuckled and enjoyed the indignant look in her face. "First, you can call me Harry inside the school. Mr Potter is good enough in wizard company, although I prefer Lord Potter. Secondly, stress can be fought easily by the educated witch. Thirdly, whoever harassed you based on your blood status is certainly not in a friendly relationship with me. And finally, I told the headmaster that I would be finding my own way out. I'm sorry if you're uncomfortable because of my recent actions."
The girl snorted and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'd say my right hook can take care of you before you ever manage to make me uncomfortable."
Wincing, Harry had to admit she was right, but only because she got him by surprise. "Most likely, Hermione. As I wrote in my invitation, it lifts my heart to meet someone who fights back when wronged, even if the method used is less than pleasant for the receiver."
"Thank you Harry ... I guess?"
"You're most welcome," he answered with a smile.
"There's something ... off ... about you though, oh great Lord Potter," Hermione said with a chuckle and peered over his rectangular spectacles. "It doesn't come naturally, does it Harry?"
No longer amused, Harry frowned and asked "What doesn't?"
"The speech, the way you move... My mum and I, we work with disadvantaged, abused children in the summer, she's a dentist and she takes me to play with these kids. You... You've got the same haunted look in your eyes..."
Floored twice in the same day by the very same girl, physically and metaphorically, Harry reverted to his old habits. He pulled his dagger and pressed it against Hermione's narrow waist. "Say one word to anyone, and your suspicions will be the last of your thoughts."
"If you wish," she said, never looking down at the blade, instead facing him squarely.
"Stop it!"
"I'm not doing anything, Harry. Truth is, I don't know much about you except for what's written in the books, but I'd say whoever raised you all these years hasn't been doing a good job..."
Growling, Harry closed his eyes and made a mistake. When he opened them again, the tip of Hermione's wand was pressed against his throat.
"I've already learned to cast the cutting spell by myself, Harry. Please don't tempt me?"
"Fuck!"
"What? No dinner and a flick first?"
As much as he wanted to deny it, and told himself he was way too young to do the wonky stuff he'd seen adults doing when he roamed and lived in the streets, Harry couldn't stop the rush of blood to certain developing regions of his body after hearing her flippant retort. He was reaching puberty and had already entertained some fantasies about Miss Greengrass, but now he'd be surely assaulted by visions of a feisty brunette as well.
"I'll pull mine if you pull yours," Hermione announced after a minute of silence, although she looked like she could see exactly what Harry's thoughts were. He'd been taught extensively about proper wizarding etiquette this past month and knew that acting on such carnal instincts was frowned upon, but then again he wasn't one for rules much.
"Do you know the difference between those savages you help during the summer and me, Miss Granger?"
"Oh, please lift the blinding mantle of ignorance from my eyes, Lord Potter."
"I was given the power to choose. Since then I've chosen to live my own life, to become a better wizard and to unlock the might of my magic. I want to speak well and to act like an educated gentleman, and that sets me apart from them." Harry pulled his dagger and swiftly sheathed it inside his robes, before pushing Hermione's temper. "You do realize that giving a savage good teeth does nothing to help them, do you not?"
"How dare you! It certainly does help them, I've seen some kids smile probably for the first time in their lives!"
"Does a smile stop the beatings?" asked Harry, coming closer and pressing his neck against the tip of her wand.
Hermione chewed her lower lip and looked down, silent for a moment before glaring at Harry, who had a smirk on his face. "Well, at least it's something! It's not like they could wave a wand and be done with it!"
"Exactly!" Harry exclaimed, enjoying how hot the Gryffindor girl looked all flushed and ready to attack him. "They have no power, Miss Granger! No power to overcome their savagery, no power to defeat those that wish them harm..."
"No power to escape some crazy wizard who likes to kill innocent Muggles! I know all about your kind, Lord Potter. I've read the events of You-Know-Who's rise to power!" Hermione spat the words to his face while her wandtip sparked.
"My kind? Didn't you listen to me before? I'm not an idiotic pureblood fanatic that can't see the truth of the world. Blood status is irrelevant, Granger, because only power matters! I survived Voldemort because of my power, and I'm going to use that power to bring wizardkind into a new era of enlightenment alongside all other creatures of this world!" Harry spoke, standing tall, pressing his body to the girl's extended wand as he declared his intentions with anger and desire clouding his better judgement.
Hermione was breathing deeply, her sparkling eyes still locked with his as she lowered her wand. She remained silent after a while and Harry took it as his cue to leave.
"I'd think twice before telling anyone of your beliefs regarding my background," he said and took a step back. "As for those books you mentioned? They're all rubbish. Good evening to you, Miss Granger."
As he was walking away, she called for him. "Harry? You're just a kid..."
With a deep sigh, he paused but didn't turn to face her. "No, I haven't been one for a very long time," he said and entered the castle, his cloak billowing with every step.
Notes:
1.- I got this idea last night, if Tom Riddle who was a
parselmouth entered the Slytherin common room in his first day of
school and saw a set of guidelines written in parselscript, would he
have interpreted them to his own liking? Also, those guidelines would
have been mutilated over time, because no one could actually read the
parchment, in this case resulting in the aberrations the Prefect
recited.
2.- Parselscript is supposed to be written parseltongue.
I hope it makes sense.
3.- The word "ineducationed" is
misspelled on purpose, think "uneducated".
4.- Pang,
Ping and Pong are three Chinese ministers of the court from the opera
Turandot.
