Disclaimer: No matter how much I begged the Sorting Hat, it wouldn't put me in the House that values students that own the Potterverse. Turns out JK Rowling is the only one there.

Harry Silvertongue

Lesson Two: Advice

"Don't refuse good advice just because it's given by someone who's an asshole, and don't accept bad advice just because it's given by someone who's not."

"Are you an asshole?"

"Exactly, Harry. And watch your goddamn mouth."

Shocked silence reigned over the Common Room as they stared at the completely unconscious professor. Harry's face flushed red and throbbed with embarrassment, which he fought down with some difficulty in order to figure out what to do. He was the first one to move, and he dashed to the professor's side and felt for a pulse, which seemed to be normal even though a gentle shaking didn't seem to wake him. He looked up into the apparently petrified faces of his classmates and the other students and searched them for one of the prefects.

He saw the girl who had introduced herself as Gemma Farley right before they had been led down here. "Ms. Farley, what do we do? His pulse feels fine. Is there a nurse?"

It took another second, but the Common Room exploded into action. Most of that action involved loudly gossiping and shouting questions at Harry, but Farley actually pulled her wand and cast a spell that Harry could only barely hear despite his proximity.

"Rennervate!"

When that failed to produce any reaction, she levitated the unconscious professor and charged out of the Common Room with Harry on her heels. He was simultaneously impressed by the levitation charm and concerned by the unsteady bouncing as she walked briskly back the way they had come. He resisted the urge to dash up and steady the man, but he had no idea if that would ruin the spell. He didn't even realize they had been followed until rounding the first landing on the stairs, at which time he spotted both Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass. They had followed quietly, the former's eyes were wide, staring at Professor Snape with apparently the same concerns about his jostling, while the latter kept her inscrutable gaze on Harry himself. He considered asking them why they were following, but he held his tongue. They had seen the entire episode, so he could use some backup when the professor was awakened.

They reached the infirmary in short order, but they had been quickly bustled into an out-of-the-way section between unused beds by a muttering woman in a burgundy and white uniform. The woman's demeanor as much as the uniform immediately identified her as the nurse in charge, and Farley provided the name – Madam Pomfrey. After a brief exchange with the prefect and a glance in Harry's direction she went to the fire, grabbed a handful of power and threw it into the fire, calling for the headmaster.

"What did you do, Harry?" He turned to find Tracey looking at him curiously – no accusation in her eyes. Her friend's face, however, remained unreadable.

He slipped back into the same unassuming mask as he considered what to say. Before he could come up with an answer, however, Headmaster Dumbledore swept into the room and started waving his wand at the same time he started tossing questions at the Matron and Farley faster than they could answer. The wand stopped mid-swish when the latter explained that Harry and Professor Snape had only been staring at each other.

"Mr. Potter?" The aged wizard looked wary, a fact that Harry found bizarre and rather off-putting.

"It's true, headmaster," he said slowly, "I don't know what happened."

Professor Dumbledore stared wordlessly in much the same way as Harry's Head of House, wand still frozen high in the air for several moments before it lowered gradually. Eventually Dumbledore turned back toward the bed and waved his wand once. "Curious," he said, then turned to the three young Slytherins, eying them each in turn. "Curious indeed."

"What's curious, sir?" Harry kept his voice neutral, but inside he was getting quite tired of hearing that.

When the headmaster didn't answer right away, Daphne jumped in. "It was Legilimency, wasn't it, sir? Potter has some sort of natural defense against it, doesn't he?"

That declaration startled everybody else in the room, then Pomfrey scoffed. "Occlumency at his age?"

"Not Occlumency," the headmaster replied, then seemed to jump slightly as though he didn't realize he said that aloud. "It would not have...well, it's not important. Suffice it to say it was not Occlumency, and it wasn't Mr. Potter's fault."

Harry wasn't about to let that drop, though. "What's Occlumency, sir?"

"I'm sorry, my boy, I'm afraid this isn't the time," Dumbledore said, then held up a hand to stave off the imminent objection. "It seems we have much to discuss, however, so I'll call on you tomorrow, if you please."

"I do," Harry said, trying to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"Very well." Dumbledore sighed, but whether in relief or consternation Harry didn't know. It annoyed him either way. "Ms. Farley, would you escort our new first years back to the dormitory? Tomorrow is their first day, after all, and I assure you that Professor Snape will be up and about in no time."

"Of course, headmaster," the prefect said, turning to the children and waving them out.

Harry held the older man's gaze for several moments longer before nodding and following the others. He would have his chance tomorrow.

"How did you know that happened, Daphne?" Harry heard Tracey's question as soon as he joined them.

The raven-haired Slytherin shrugged her shoulders, then turned her ice-blue eyes on Harry. "It was the only thing that made sense."

Tracey scratched her head as she looked back and forth between her and Harry. "What makes you say that?"

"My father taught me enough to recognize when someone is using Legilimency. Potter didn't know Professor Snape, so it's safe to say he knows very little about the wizarding world in general, let alone advanced magic such as Occlumency. And from what I learned about it, I don't think it's enough to do that." Daphne gestured back at the infirmary. "I asked if there was any other way I could stop it, and my father said no; he said that there are some people that have some sort of natural defense, but I don't. Some creatures like werewolves are also protected."

"Your father taught you quite a bit," the prefect said with a frown. Harry detected a hint of jealousy there.

"He wanted me to be prepared," Daphne said evenly.

Harry thought that was a wonderful idea, and not for the first time he wished he had the same opportunity. "Can you teach me?"

She tensed, but before she could reply, Tracey jumped in and touched his shoulder. He went rigid, but she plowed ahead, oblivious. "But you don't need it," she said with a bright smile, then turned to her friend. "Can you teach me, instead? Or both of us...yeah, that's even better! Teach both of us!"

Daphne reached over and gently removed Tracey's hand from Harry's shoulder. "Okay," she said softly.

Tracey looked back and forth between them and then flushed with embarrassment. "Oh, I-I'm sorry, Harry..."

"It's okay, Tracey," he replied, then looked surprised when a brilliant smile flashed across her face. "What?"

"You called her by her first name," Daphne supplied, which furthered his surprise.

When did he start thinking of them by their first names? "Is that...not normal?"

"Not in Slytherin," she said.

"Oh, well I wouldn't mind if you both called me Harry."

"Sure, Potter," she replied with a smirk.

"C'mon Greengrass," Harry said, "or shall I call you Greenie?"

Tracey laughed uproariously despite the glare Harry received. Harry didn't think it was that funny until she elaborated. "She was almost named 'Queenie.'"

Harry coughed out unexpected laughter, a sound he just realized he hadn't made for a month and a half. "Queenie Greenie it is, then?"

Daphne's glare intensified but this time it was spread over the two of them. "I don't care if there's a prefect watching me; I will hex you both into next week."

"I'm sorry, Green...grass," Harry said. "You realize I'm going to think of it every time I say that, and you probably will, too."

"Oh, he's got you there, Daph," Tracey said with a smirk.

Daphne huffed. "Fine, you may call me Daphne...Harry."

Harry couldn't help but smile at that, another act he hadn't genuinely performed in some time. "Thank you, Daphne."

She tried to scowl but he didn't think her heart was in it. The prefect glanced up with an odd smirk as they turned down another flight of stairs, but Harry dismissed it as unimportant. Tracey tried to convince Daphne to teach them tonight until she remembered that Harry wanted to talk, and then she was trying to figure out how they could squeeze both in tonight until Daphne pointed out that all four of them were likely to be mobbed to find out what happened.

Tracey made what Harry thought was a funny growl at that. "Well, tomorrow then!"

That made the Prefect laugh as she supplied the password to enter the common room. Contrary to what Daphne predicted, they weren't immediately set upon by a large group of people. Instead, Malfoy approached, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle and followed by Parkinson and Bulstrode. Zabini eyed Tracey and Daphne as if he wanted to speak to them, but he remained in his chair, apparently trying to show no more interest than any other student.

"What news, Farley?" Malfoy asked the question as if he had been waiting on her...as if he had invited her to report to him.

She didn't fall for it. "The headmaster wanted me to remind you all that classes begin tomorrow, and that we would have our Head of House back in no time." She doesn't address Malfoy directly, instead speaking loud enough for the common room to hear. "His illness had nothing to do with any of these three, so don't badger them. That is all."

Harry thought he saw a flash of anger in Malfoy's face at first, but it was quickly replaced by the usual superior, cold expression. The common room waited until Gemma Farley moved to find the other prefects before breaking out in conversation once again.

Malfoy, of course, went straight for the three new friends. "Was Pomfrey able to revive Professor Snape, Potter?"

"No, but the headmaster came in to check him and they sent us away," Tracey jumped in.

His face twisted into a sneer. "Dumbledore. My father says he's worthless." Then he realized who had been speaking, and turned his attention to Harry. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort." His eyes flickered to Tracey, and Harry had to suppress his own flash of anger. He thought he did a better job than Malfoy. "I can help you there."

"Don't refuse good advice just because it's given by someone who's an asshole, and don't accept bad advice just because it's given by someone who's not."

Harry stared at the outstretched hand for a moment as Will's advice echoed in his head once again. He combined that advice with the tactic he had seen Malfoy use mere moments before as he constructed his reply. It began with accepting the proffered hand. "Thank you, Malfoy," he said, leaving out the honorific just as the other boy had, "I shall inform you when I require your services."

He heard an ever so slight intake of breath behind him, and saw mostly blank looks in front of him, where he figured only Malfoy understood the slight. The other boy's jaw clenched, but to his credit he merely nodded and swept away toward the stairwell.

Harry turned to find Tracey and Daphne gaping at him. "I can't believe you said that," the latter said quietly, eyes flickering around to make sure nobody could hear her.

He shrugged. "I didn't like what he was implying about Tracey."

The girl in question gave him a brilliant smile and then threw her arms around him. Harry went completely rigid, part of his mind screaming to get away while the rest insisted he had nothing to worry about. "Tracey," Daphne said uncertainly, and slowly reached up to remove the other girl's arms. It was only after the girl had been extricated that Harry realized he had pulled his knife, though he hadn't opened it and his hand was clenched so tight around it that his arm was shaking. He felt a warm trickle of blood dripping between his fingers.

"Oh, I forgot! I'm sorry Harry..." Tracey had spotted the blood and looked back up at him with with dismay. "Wh-what...are you okay?"

"Yeah," Harry said once he came back to his senses. He felt his face heat with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, I-I don't know why I did that."

"I think we have a lot to talk about," Daphne said slowly.

In their first Potions class on Thursday, Hermione had been sitting alone at one of the two-person tables in the front and center of the classroom when Harry, Daphne, and Tracey arrived. None of the other Gryffindors were speaking to her; it didn't help that they had all paired off evenly and claimed most of the right side of the classroom. The clear longing in her surreptitious glances made his heart sink with pity.

"Only two person tables," Tracey mused. "How should we split up?"

"Why don't you two sit together," Harry said, meeting Hermione's eyes when she turned to see the newcomers. He returned her small, nervous smile and wave. "I'll sit with Hermione." That brought the other girls up short, though he kept walking toward the vacant seat next to the wide-eyed Gryffindor. "Hello again, Hermione," he said in the soft voice he used on the train, "may I sit with you?"

"Y-yes, of course...Harry," she said.

He turned to introduce Daphne and Tracey, but they had already taken a seat at the left side of the room and had their heads together, whispering heatedly. Suppressing a frown, he turned back and took his seat to find Hermione looking at him questioningly. He just smiled in what he hoped was a reassuring manner. "So how are you enjoying the classes so far?"

Her eyes lit up like Dudley's on Christmas morning at the question. Slytherins and Gryffindors alike gaped as the two students from rival houses appeared to be getting along quite famously, as if they didn't even notice the color of their robes. Not that Harry had meant to draw attention to them, of course; it was just a simple question and she had spoken breathlessly, describing every reaction to every class in great detail until Professor Snape swept into the room and glared at them. Well, he glared at Hermione, anyway. The man never glared directly at Harry anymore, but the half-muttered, half-growled comments had continued apace. Harry's father figured prominently in them, so the reason for Snape's bitterness quickly became clear. Why he thought Harry would react to taunts about somebody he never knew...well, that wasn't so clear.

After a surprisingly inspiring speech was ruined at the very end by Snape's apparently habitual condescension, the taunts became more public. "Potter! What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

As Hermione's hand shot into the air, Harry recognized the look on the professor's face: it was the same look his uncle wore when he was eagerly awaiting Harry's answering "I don't know" to a question he couldn't possibly know. He'd last seen the look when the glass had vanished at the zoo...although Harry knew why now, back then he had no idea. There was nothing he could do, unfortunately, to avoid answering. Snark was a very bad idea with Vernon, and after what happened at their first meeting, he suspected it would be equally bad with Snape. So, meekness it is. "I'm sorry, I don't know, sir."

"Tut, tut - fame clearly isn't everything." The sneer on his face was almost audible.

Harry kept his face blank despite the twinge of annoyance. When had he said anything about fame? Frankly, he found the attention rather uncomfortable, especially as rumors abound regarding what happened in the Slytherin common room. He could have counted on one hand the number of first year students who would still look him in the eye that first day of class, though that had let up somewhat after the Weasley twins gave him a standing ovation in the Great Hall...an action that was joined by a number of other Gryffindors and that had demolished any chance of hiding his embarrassment. But clearly at the moment he was being baited, so he remained silent and expressionless.

That didn't improve the professor's mood. "Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

His table-mate's hand once again shot into the air, and Harry was surprised she hadn't realized what was going on. Snape didn't want answers; he wanted humiliation. Harry didn't have a problem with that normally, but there were a lot of other students in the class. He could always answer literally, but how could he do that without sounding snarky?

"Well?"

Apparently he had stalled too long. "If you told me to find you a bezoar, sir, I'd look in your supply cabinet because I don't know where they come from naturally." Inwardly he cringed because he knew that could still be considered snarky. "I'm sorry again, sir," he added quickly.

Snickers from behind him were silenced by an angry, red-faced glare from Snape. "Thought you wouldn't open a book before coming, eh, Potter?"

Once again Harry refused to rise to the bait. He had indeed opened his book, but he certainly hadn't memorized it. No good could come of claiming what little knowledge he had retained anyway, so again he remained silent and expressionless.

It turned out he didn't have to wait long for the next question. "What is the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane? And you can dispense with the cheek this time, Potter." He practically spat the name out this time, and idly Harry thought Snape probably did that a lot back when he knew Harry's father.

If it wouldn't make matters worse, Harry might have laughed at Hermione jumping out of her seat with her hand raised. Snape gave no indication of noticing her, but whether she knew it or not, she was helping to display the man's petulance, and Harry was grateful. There was no literal answer for this one, unless he said something extremely snarky like 'the names are different.' That was likely to land him in detention, though.

"Nothing to say, Potter? Is your head as empty as your cauldron?"

"No, it's just that, from your reaction to my earlier responses, it seems I can't say anything right," Harry said, affecting his well-practiced self-deprecation in his words.

Snape's jaw clenched as he glared at Harry's uniform. If it had been trimmed in scarlet instead of green, Harry was certain there would have been House points taken away just then. "I should have expected as much," he said after a few moments. Harry had to admit that was a good comeback; he didn't think Snape could agree and make himself seem superior without either looking even more petulant or admitting his own bullying, but he managed to do just that. Harry thought that he should have expected as much from the head of Slytherin House. "Sit down," the professor snapped at Hermione. "For your information, Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

Harry almost let out a chuckle when he realized his joke about the names being different was actually correct. Instead he released a quiet sigh of relief from getting out of that situation, but it didn't improve greatly once they'd been ordered to brew a boil-curing potion in pairs. Hermione must have prepared her ingredients with textbook accuracy, because all she earned was a healthy portion of glares from the professor. He was too quick to berate the others, especially the apparently accident-prone Neville Longbottom – an observation well-supported by the melting cauldron and subsequent trip to the infirmary – to have any other explanation. Malfoy actually received praise, though Harry wondered if it was really earned since the words seemed forced, and Daphne also escaped any criticism. Tracey didn't, though, and Harry seethed when the professor called her useless.

Eventually, after what seemed like several hours, he and Hermione were cleaning up their area, the latter wearing a frown the whole time. Harry was fairly certain it had to do with Snape's grading of their potion, or rather his reticence on it. He had merely glared at it, dipped a finger in and tasted it, and then moved on without a word, ignoring Hermione's, "sir?." When they were dismissed, she waited until the door closed behind them before exploding into furious whispers.

"That was so unfair! He didn't even tell us our grade! What did we do wrong? What did you do wrong? Why was he being so mean to you, asking you those questions that we aren't even going to cover this year? This doesn't make any sense!"

"Hermione," Harry said softly. His voice had the effect of ceasing her breathless rant immediately. "Thank you for being my partner today," he said, "the fact that he didn't criticize our potion must have meant that we did it perfectly."

"Really? B-but..."

"Yes, really," Daphne's voice sounded from behind. Harry turned to see his two friends approaching, the taller raven-haired girl expressionless as usual while Tracey wore a scowl.

"No offense, Harry, but I'm sorta glad I didn't sit with you for that," she said. Her eyes tightened slightly as they flickered to Hermione, however.

Harry winced slightly and turned to his unfortunate brewing partner. "Yeah, sorry about that, Hermione. This is Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis, by the way." He turned to his housemates to continue the introductions. "Hermione Granger. She and I met on the train."

"As did we," Tracey said quietly. "Sort of."

"Neville's toad," Hermione added in explanation, blushing and averting her eyes from the two Slytherin girls. They must not have reacted very hospitably at that meeting. "So what was all that stuff about, Harry?"

"Professor Snape doesn't like me very much," Harry said wryly.

"Well, you did knock him out the first time you ever spoke to him," Tracey joked.

Hermione gasped and rounded on him. "That rumor is true?"

Tracey laughed and even Daphne chuckled slightly. "It's not like that," Harry said, trying to fix Tracey with a stern glare despite his smile. "Snape has had it out for me since the first time he met me...something to do with my father, I think. He tried to invade my mind and collapsed because of some sort of natural defense against Legilimency...or so Daphne says. Professor Dumbledore said the same thing." He kept the frustration off his face at the memory of his meeting with the headmaster.

"You know I'm right," Daphne said with a sniff of mock indignation.

"I-invade your—but...but he's a professor!" Hermione sputtered at the thought. "He shouldn't act like that!"

"He's a bully," Harry said with a shrug. "And I've learned how to handle bullies." Hermione made a little squeak, which made him feel bad all over again about the train. "Oh no, Hermione, I didn't mean...that. I really am sorry about that, you're really not..."

She turned her red face away. "No...I am...I was..."

She was on the verge of crying, and Harry didn't know what to do. He looked over to find Daphne merely watching with a raised eyebrow, but at least Tracey appeared sympathetic. He shot her a questioning look and she mimicked a hugging motion, the thought of which made Harry ill. He lifted his arm to put a hand on her shoulder, but it started badly before it got there. He pulled it back and shook it out as if that might help, then tried again. It started to shake again but he pushed through it. Hermione jumped slightly at the contact and looked over at him. "Hermione, you're not a bully," he said softly, trying to lean in a bit so nobody would overhear. "You're not."

She bit her lip and, when Harry dropped his hand from her shoulder, glanced back to the other two girls, embarrassed. She looked like she wanted to argue, but she just nodded and continued looking sad.

Frowning, Harry knew he had to do something else. "Do you want to...study together this weekend? Maybe work on the Transfiguration essay?" Based on her reaction in class, he figured that would be a reliable way to get on her good side.

Her eyes lit up at the mention of studying, but then her face fell at his second question. "I already finished it," she said in a small voice.

"That's okay," Harry said quickly, "something else, then?"

"Spending time with Gryffindors, Harry?" Daphne's eyebrow was raised again, this time directed at him. Tracey's lips were drawn tight, an expression Harry recognized as displeasure.

Harry suppressed a frown and shrugged. "I don't have enough friends to turn one away based on the color of their robes."

When Harry called her his friend, Hermione beamed at him.

On the way out to the grounds with Tracey and Daphne, Harry felt ambivalent about the coming flying lesson. On the one hand, obviously, it was flying. Certainly he wasn't the only Muggle-raised child who dreamed he could fly only to find out first that magic really existed, and second that wizards and witches could in fact fly on brooms. On the other hand, it was with the Gryffindors, who were the oil to the Slytherins' water. He couldn't blame them, really...Malfoy's incessantly annoying taunts targeted students from every House, but Gryffindor definitely got it worst. Ron had already decided by the train ride that being Sorted to Slytherin amounted to being declared evil, and Malfoy gave him ample supporting evidence. After the connection he and Ron had made on the train, it didn't feel good when he continued to look at Harry with some mixture of fear and disgust. At least Hermione continued to welcome his company, though it strained his relationship with the Slytherins as much as he imagined it strained hers with the Gryffindors. It seemed odd that first years could have so quickly and thoroughly adopted the apparently institutionalized antagonism toward their rival Houses, but between older family members and older students, they had managed it in less than two weeks.

In that respect it was nice that the rival Houses only had Potions together, as far as regular classes go. Having the two meet outside the castle in such a wide open space...Harry knew well beforehand that this was a poor decision. He was able to forget about this prediction, however with a simple, "up!" The broomstick eagerly leaped to his hand, drawing envious looks from Hermione and Tracey. After he took the position described by the instructor, he was sorely tempted to take off as his instincts suggested. But he restrained and distracted himself by studying the rest of the class. He thought it slowed Hermione down when she got flustered at her inability to coax the broomstick off the ground, though even she was faster than Longbottom.

To Harry's annoyance, they didn't even get the order to kick off the ground when Neville shot up into the air and started wildly bucking, seemingly of his own volition. Harry saw a flash of...something...as it fell from the clumsy boy's pocket. It was clear Neville was panicking and over-correcting his weight imbalance, and sure enough he tumbled over the side before Hooch could do anything. The nasty cracking sound when he foolishly tried to stop his fall with one arm made Harry and every other student within earshot cringe. The flying instructor hurried him off to the infirmary with a firm admonishment to stay grounded.

"Did you see his face, the great lump?" Malfoy sniggered with his hulking shadows.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped the a girl Harry recognized as Parvati Patil. Well, he had to use the Gryffindor robes to identify which twin it was, but that was good enough.

"Ooh, sticking up for Longbottom?" Parkinson sneered from Malfoy's side. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies, Parvati."

"Look," Malfoy said, and Harry immediately knew the other boy saw the glass ball. Harry, being closer, swiped it before Malfoy had moved too far and held it up. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him." He went to take it from Harry's hand, but Harry moved first, bringing a near-scowl to the other boy's face. "I'll take that, Potter."

"No need to trouble yourself, Malfoy," Harry said coolly, dropping it in his pocket but keeping his left hand on it while his right reached past his wand and rested on his knife. "I will return it for you."

"Like he was going to—" Parkinson started to say, but Malfoy shushed her.

"Very well, Potter," he said, jaw clenched. "Return it to Longbottom for me. I'm too busy anyway." He spun on his heel and marched a little ways away from the group, followed as always by Crabbe, Goyle, and Parkinson. Nott glared at Harry before catching up, and Zabini actually nodded to Daphne and Tracey before joining them. Bulstrode looked back and forth with a deep frown for a moment before joining the Malfoy camp. It was a wise decision, Harry thought, since Malfoy was the only one that would hold a grudge.

Tracey was also frowning, though Daphne looked thoughtful. They both stayed by his side. He turned to find Hermione to give her the glass globe, but instead he was approached by a clearly nervous Ron. Harry recognized Dean and Seamus flanking what Harry assumed was their roommate. "I-I can take it to Neville, H-Harry," Ron said haltingly.

Harry had to give it to Ron; his bravery was not in short supply. "I was going to give it to Hermione," Harry said, glancing at the bushy-haired girl who appeared to be trying to shrink into nothingness at the attention, "but if you'd like to work that out with her..."

"He can take it," she said quickly, causing Harry to hide a frown. He eyed her for a moment, then held out the glass ball to Ron.

"Thanks, mate," Ron said, relief evident in his voice and his posture after he pocketed Neville's globe. "I knew the Sorting Hat messed up, putting you with the snakes."

Harry could feel Tracey's hackles rise at that, but he almost chuckled at the redhead's complete lack of tact. "No, Ron, the Hat didn't know where to put me, and after I asked it a question its first suggestion was Slytherin. I told it that would be acceptable."

Stunned silence met that proclamation.

"B-but, it's Slytherin," Ron said, as if that would change Harry's whole outlook.

"Who'd want to hang around snakes all day, you know?" Seamus' thick Irish accent seemed to make that even more offensive.

"They are my friends, Finnegan," Harry said coolly, getting tired of the senseless rivalry already. Seamus looked away quickly, and Harry wasn't sure whether to feel grateful or annoyed at the rumors of his encounter with Snape.

"Right," Ron said uncomfortably as he backed away slowly. "Well, uh...just...be careful around them, you know?"

"Excellent advice," Harry said with a smile, ignoring the indignant glare he knew Ron was getting from Tracey. "I will do just that."

A/N:

Gemma Farley is a character that only exists on Pottermore (I wouldn't know firsthand, but apparently if you are Sorted into Slytherin, she is the prefect that welcomes you).

Those of you intimately familiar with canon might note the absence of Harry's tea time with Hagrid. This was intentional, since Hagrid was the one who said something like, "there's not a witch or wizard who went bad that wasn't in Slytherin" (though Ron gets the line in the movie), and "better Hufflepuff than Slytherin." We'll see him later on. There's also no stumbling upon the forbidden corridor, obviously, since they're nowhere near Gryffindor Tower.

I was sorely tempted to have Harry say, "they're my friends, Irishman." I watched Braveheart a lot when I was a teen.

I'm still determined to start jumping ahead, which is why I'm still sticking pretty close to canon thus far. Rest assured we will diverge soon enough.

There was a much smaller response – about a third the number of both hits and reviews – to this than for A Summoning Gone Awry, even though I think this story is (or will be, anyway) better. Is my summary that much crappier for this one, or is it just because there are no pairings listed for this story yet? Or perhaps the masses simply want Harry/multi. Since I'm kinda being serious this time, though, this will not be one of those stories. Regarding the eventual romantic relationships, I do have a general plan for Harry but I am fully prepared to allow my characters to surprise me on that front.

Let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.