A/N: Hello all, and thanks for sticking with Greg and company thus far. This story is already written to its end, in about 20 chapters' time, and we've almost met everybody we need to meet. The plan is one chapter per day to finish this off, before kicking straight on to the sequel, which is half-written and currently afflicted by writers' block.

If you're enjoying things, you can check out "The Crossroads" (a one-shot on Matt and Oscar's first year) and "Snake Bites" (Albus Potter meets Greg Bennett) over at my author page. I'd love to hear what you thought of the boys and their universe...

'Typical,' Greg muttered as he forced himself out of his bed, the Sunday morning sunlight streaking through the lake window. 'I bet it's the last sunny day of the summer, and we get to spend the morning in detention.' He glanced to his right, watching Isaac stir under his duvet. 'Come on, Zac,' he hissed, 'get up!'

'Where... what?' Isaac stuttered, blinking his eyes open. 'Oh, yeah. Right. Detention.'

'Yeah,' Greg nodded, forlornly. 'Detention.' He cast his eyes to the old clock in the corner of the dormitory, as the snake-shaped minute hand stretched towards the bottom of its face. 'We've got half an hour,' he murmured, 'time for breakfast, at least.' He pulled a plain-looking white t-shirt over his head, before wrapping a thin sweater on top. 'Remember yours,' he added, cryptically.

'Sure,' Isaac nodded, pulling a matching shirt over his pale chest. 'I can't believe I lost it like that on Thursday,' he reflected, morosely.

Greg shrugged. 'It's happened, mate. Forget it,' He smiled, weakly, 'but maybe you should let me do the talking today?'

Isaac rolled his eyes, but he couldn't keep himself from laughing quietly as he did so. 'Deal,' he grinned, following Greg past Theo's bed and out of the dormitory. Half an hour later, they had joined Glyn outside the Potions classroom.

'We might as well go inside,' Greg suggested, greeting the Welsh Hufflepuff boy as he spoke.

'I wasn't sure,' Glyn stammered, nervously.

'Slughorn's quarters are behind the classroom, aren't they?' Greg reasoned. 'He'll have no reason to come past us out here,' he concluded. 'We don't want him to think we were late.'

Glyn nodded a silent agreement.

'Oh,' Greg added, nodding towards his housemate. 'Zac's promised he's not going to say anything to Slughorn this time.'

True to Greg's prediction, the professor was waiting inside the teaching room. 'A-ha,' he smirked, 'at least you have manners enough to remember your punctuality.'

'Good morning, sir.' Greg could hear Isaac's sharp intake of breath, and he deftly stood across his friend as he spoke.

'I shall not detain you with explanations for any longer than is strictly necessary.' Slughorn's voice took on a haughty tone. 'You see, your task is very simple – even simpler than a revitalising draught.' His eyes locked onto Isaac's like a vulture, but the brown-haired boy did nothing more than stare back, his face frozen. 'These cauldrons were used yesterday by my seventh-year class to make a particularly sticky,' he paused, running his tongue around the word, 'solution. You will be cleaning them,' he announced, 'without magic. There is a sink in the corner, and I believe you know where the rags are, Mr Bennett?'

'Yes, sir,' Greg nodded, slowly.

'Well then,' the teacher clapped his hands, feigning excitement. 'Wands to me. Knock on my door when you're finished, and if the work is up to standard, then you may depart.'

'Yes, sir,' Glyn answered, holding out his own ward submissively as Greg looked back at Isaac, panicked.

'Oh, yes, my wand, sorry,' Greg stuttered, overloud, as Isaac reached down into his own trouser pocket, muttering under his breath as he did so.

'Mr Davies?' Slughorn's voice lowered, menacingly, but Isaac reached out and complied with the teacher's request. 'Excellent,' the professor smiled. 'Enjoy yourselves!' He turned on his heel, leaving the three children alone in the classroom.

'Did you manage it?' Greg hissed.

'I hope so,' Isaac nodded. 'Thanks for the distraction,' he grinned, 'I'm sure you weren't just panicking.'

'Managed what?' Glyn interrupted, tentatively. 'You're not going to get into any more trouble, are you?'

'I hope not,' Greg answered. 'What do you think?' He pulled the thin sweatshirt over his head, revealing the no longer plain t-shirt beneath.

'Slytherins Stick Together,' Glyn read. 'But...'

'The t-shirts are charmed,' Greg explained before Glyn could finish his question. 'We don't, er, want to be wandering around with these on outside. Matt and Oscar helped us... they're fourth-years.'

Glyn nodded, impressed.

'Hopefully Slughorn might start to see we're different to what Slytherins have been before,' Greg continued.

'You are,' Glyn spoke quietly. 'I just wish I was different to a regular Hufflepuff,' he sighed.

Greg turned to look at Isaac, remembering his friend's remarks about the Welsh boy's sorting, but Isaac had begun to speak before Greg could make eye contact.

'How many Hufflepuffs get detention in their first week and hang out with Slytherins?' Isaac challenged. 'Exactly,' he grinned as the Hufflepuff's eyes widened. 'Now,' he continued, 'Greg, this is muggle cleaning, isn't it? You're the expert. Show us how it's done.'

'Fine,' Greg rolled his eyes, 'but you better learn quick.'

None of the first-years could work out what the stack of cauldrons had been used for the previous day, but neither did they have any reason to doubt the professor's assessment of their contents.

'He wasn't making it up when he said they were sticky, was he?' Isaac groaned as he turned off a stream of cold water from its tap. He reached up to grab a rag from the pile and stretched into the cauldron. 'This is really gonna mess our t-shirts up,' he complained.

'Well, take it off then,' Greg shrugged. 'It's not like it's cold in here.' He shook his head, pulling his arm out of a cauldron and doing as he had suggested. 'You alright, Glyn?'

'Yeah,' the Welsh boy nodded. 'They're not so dirty once you've finished with them. I'm just getting a bit wet.' He peered down inside one near-cleaned bowl. 'Do you think this is good enough?'

Greg ducked across, glancing at Glyn's work. 'Yeah, I guess so,' he reached back to his damp cloth, rubbing at one last mark on the cauldron's interior. 'That bit's just burned on; it's not coming off.'

'One down,' Glyn offered. 'How many to go?'

'Enough,' Isaac muttered, 'enough to keep us going all morning.' He sighed. 'So, your Mum plays for the Harpies, right?' He asked the Hufflepuff boy as he gazed back down into the dirty water.

'Yeah,' Glyn answered without enthusiasm.

'So you go and watch all the matches, then?' Isaac took little notice of the other boy's halfhearted reply.

'Most of them,' Glyn nodded.

'Cool,' Isaac continued between splashes. 'I saw them play Puddlemere last season,' he launched into a retelling of the match. 'The Harpies led all the way through, but they never got far enough ahead to be safe if we caught the snitch, and then Marston went and did it right in front of where I was sitting!' His voice grew quick with excitement.

'I didn't think he was going to reach it, cause it was heading towards the stands and he was running out of space, and being chased by both the Harpies beaters, and he looked like he was flying too high...' Isaac took a deep breath. 'But then, right at the last minute, he rolled upside down on the broom so that he grabbed the snitch right underneath himself... and this meant that the bludgers that had been fired at him went above the broom instead. I nearly got hit on the head when I jumped up to cheer cause the bludgers kept on flying straight at me...'

'Yeah, I remember that,' Glyn sighed. 'Mum was furious. She was sure it was going to cost them a place in the Champions League.'

'They got in anyway, though, didn't they?' Isaac looked up from the cauldron in front of him.

'Yeah,' Glyn shrugged. 'They beat Tutshill on the last day, so they finished ahead of the Tornadoes.'

'Who have they got in their group?' Isaac asked. 'Ours is quite easy... Quiberon are quite good, but Tirana are never up to much. I've never even heard of Dynamo Donetsk...'

'They'll be from the Ukraine,' Greg interrupted without looking up from his own work, having decided that much of the other two boys' conversation would mean nothing to him.

'What...?' Isaac paused, surprised. 'How do you know?'

This time Greg did look up. 'Quidditch isn't the only sport with a Champions League, Zac.' He grinned. 'Donetsk have a good football team, too.'

'Oh, right,' Isaac nodded. 'I've never seen them play in the Quidditch one before,' the brown-haired boy explained. 'Have you?' He directed his question back to the Welsh boy.

'No,' the Hufflepuff agreed. 'The Harpies' group is alright, I suppose. Vratsa are probably going to win it, but I don't think Lisbon will do much. It's probably down to us or Milan Manticore for second.'

'Yeah, that sounds about right,' Isaac stood up, carrying his cauldron back to the sink to empty out the dirty water inside. 'Who are you going to support then, Greg?'

'At Quidditch?' Greg played for time by repeating his friend's question. 'Well... probably the Cannons.'

'Why?' Isaac struggled to suppress a laugh. 'You know they haven't won anything since... since...'

'So what?' Greg shrugged. 'I live in Chudleigh. I support Exeter City at football, and they're...' he paused, 'in the fifth division, but they're my team, cause I've always watched them with my Dad. I'm not gonna support someone just cause they win more.'

'Fine,' Isaac turned back to his cauldron. 'Just don't complain when they keep getting thrashed every week.'

'Don't worry about it,' Greg smiled. 'Just worry about what happens if the Cannons ever beat your lot.'

'Never going to happen,' Isaac laughed.

'That's what all the Man Utd fans said when we played them last season in the Cup,' the blond boy remembered. 'They're the best team in the country,' he explained, 'but we drew, away at their ground.' He grinned. 'The next day back at school was brilliant.' He stood up, emptying the dirty water out of his own cauldron. 'So, Glyn,' he turned to the other boy. 'Do you think you're going to make the Hufflepuff team?'

Glyn looked up, dropping his cleaning cloth into the half-finished cauldron as he did so. 'What?'

'Well, you must be pretty good, right?' Greg pressed the Hufflepuff boy. 'If your Mum plays for the Harpies.'

'I'm not my Mum,' Glyn muttered, reaching back down to clean his cauldron. 'I got my flying skills from my Dad. That's what she says. He's an arithmancist.'

'Oh...' Greg bit his lip. 'Well, you can get better, if you practise,' he insisted. 'That's what we're all doing.'

'You're on the House team?' Glyn jerked upwards again.

'Yes,' Greg nodded. 'All of the first years,' he explained. 'No one else tried out... there's hardly anyone in Slytherin any more.'

Glyn sighed. 'You're so lucky...'

'Yeah,' Isaac snapped. 'Lucky to be in the House everyone hates. Lucky to get picked on in the corridors by people you don't even know. Lucky to get detention cause even our Head of House thinks we're all tossers. Real lucky.'

Glyn didn't respond.

'Nice, Isaac,' Greg shook his head.

'Well?' The brown-haired boy hissed. 'Do you think we're lucky to be in Slytherin?'

'I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.'

The next hour of the boys' detention passed in a tense quiet. Isaac and Glyn barely met one another's gaze, leaving Greg caught in the middle. The Welsh boy only dared end his silence when Isaac left the room for a bathroom break.

'I didn't mean it like that,' he offered, quietly.

'I know you didn't, mate,' Greg smiled, 'and I'm sure Isaac will work it out, too. It's different for him, being from a magical family, hearing everything about Slytherin... having to cope with all of it.'

Glyn nodded, slowly. 'I think I get that,' he whispered. 'I guess it's a bit like my Mum being captain of the Harpies... and me being crap at flying.' He blushed at his language, and Greg smiled.

'Don't worry about saying that,' the blond boy grinned, recalling the conversation he had shared with Matthew in his neighbour's attic. 'Sometimes you've just got to swear,' he shrugged, 'and I've said worse, anyway.'

Glyn nodded, reassured by his friend's words. 'Could...' he hesitated, 'could I practise with you? Not when you have proper team practices,' he hurriedly corrected himself, 'just, like, if you play in your free time...'

'Yes,' Greg answered, quickly, 'sure.' He looked up as the sound of the classroom door alerted him to Isaac's return, and smiled to himself as he read the slogan on his friend's t-shirt. 'Alright, Zac,' he greeted the brown-haired boy. 'Glyn was just saying...'

'I know,' Isaac cut him off, 'I over-reacted. Like usual,' he sighed. 'Tosser.'

'No,' Greg interrupted, 'you're not. You'd be a tosser if you really meant all of it, and I know you don't. Look at your t-shirt: Slytherins Stick Together.'

Isaac shook his head, but he couldn't keep himself from smiling as he did so. 'Thanks, mate... and Glyn,' he turned to the Hufflepuff. 'I know what you meant... and I think you're right.'

The Welsh boy smiled.

'Come on,' Isaac insisted, 'the sooner we get this done, the sooner we can get out of here.' He pulled his shirt off again, lying it carefully on the table in front of him so that he could read the slogan as he worked. 'Let's get it done by twelve.'

'Why not?' Greg grinned. 'Let's try and do it without having another argument, too.'

The boys managed to meet one of their targets, passing the time sharing stories of Quidditch matches and, in Greg's case, football games. They weren't far from their other goal, either: Greg knocked on the teacher's door as the grandfather clock in the corner of the room struck midday. 'Professor,' he announced, his sweater covering the charmed t-shirt beneath, 'we're done.'

Slughorn answered the boy's knock, waddling through the double door and back out into the Potions classroom. 'Well...' he peered into the pile of cleaned cauldrons, searching for any grime that remained 'Not bad,' he muttered, 'not bad for a first attempt. I suppose I can let you off now.' He turned to face the three children, only to see that the two Slytherin boys had removed their sweatshirts to reveal the messages beneath. 'What...' he stammered. 'What is the meaning of this?'

Greg swallowed, feeling his heart beginning to thud against his ribcage. 'We know what happened to Slytherin,' he began, taking a deep breath as he steeled himself to continue. 'We know what happened in the war, and after the war, and what happened to the House. We know why no one gets sorted here any more. We know why everyone hates us.'

The professor stuttered, but Greg kept on speaking.

'I'm muggle-born. So is Theo Forrest, who's my best – one of my best friends,' he glanced at Isaac as he spoke, who nodded back encouragingly. 'Matt Sawyer and Oscar Symons are muggle-born too, they're fourth-years, and they're Quidditch Captain and Vice-Captain. There's no one left who was here when the war ended. ' He paused for a moment. 'The hat said we were here because we were ambitious, cause we were cunning, cause we were resourceful: but that doesn't mean we have to be tos-' he corrected his language in front of the teacher, 'idiots about it.' He took a final breath. 'We want to make Slytherin our House, Professor, but we need you to help us do it.'

The teacher gazed, dumbfounded, back at Greg and his friends as the blond boy finished speaking. 'Well...' he shook his head. 'Never in all my years...' He turned, stumbling back towards the double doors that led to his quarters. 'Come this way, boys,' he beckoned them. 'I think I need a sit down.'

Slughorn collapsed into the dark, yawning leather of a wide sofa. 'Muggle-born, you say?'

Greg nodded firmly. 'Yes,' he confirmed, 'me and Theo in the first year, and Oscar and Matt in the fourth year.'

The professor shook his head again, reaching for the squat glass atop a decanter of brandy and filling it to its brim. 'This House is truly not what it once was.'

'Is that a bad thing?' Isaac snapped a challenge as he heard Slughorn's words.

'Shhh!' Greg nudged his friend in the ribs. 'Remember last time...' He turned back to the teacher. 'Sometimes, Isaac sort of...'

'Speaks without thinking.' Isaac gazed down at his feet as he completed his friend's description. 'Like I when I got us all detention yesterday.'

Slughorn nodded, taking a gulp of his brandy. 'Yet even so, you say the hat told you this was the right place for you?'

'Yes,' Greg repeated the things he had been told on his first evening, both by the hat itself and by Theo in the boys' dormitory afterwards. 'It said that I was drawn to Slytherin.'

'It said I needed to avoid my sister,' Isaac added his own story. 'She's in Gryffindor.'

'What about you?' Slughorn turned his gaze towards a surprised Glyn.

'I'm in Hufflepuff,' the third boy managed a nervous reply. 'I'm only here cause...'

'He's here cause he's our friend,' Greg decided he didn't want to hear whatever explanation Glyn's nerves might have come up with. 'Yes,' he repeated. 'He's our friend, and he's in Hufflepuff.'

'Merlin...' the old teacher shook his head once again. 'You certainly have no time for traditions, do you, boys?'

'Not if the traditions come from hundreds of years of rubbish,' Greg was surprised to hear the intensity of his own voice as he spoke.

Slughorn chuckled. 'Some of the finest students of this very school have been muggle-born. Indeed, perhaps the very best I ever taught... before she found herself the most powerful of enemies...'

'Voldemort?'

The professor nodded, sadly. 'The worst of Slytherin House. The sickening image that the world still sees when they hear our name.'

'Which is why we have to make things change,' Greg insisted. 'You said yourself that we are not like Slytherins once were.'

'Yes, boy,' the teacher grimaced, 'but it is all very well simply saying these grand words, when the path you wish to tread will be tougher than you imagine.'

'It's the right path to choose, though,' Greg remembered his conversation with the sorting hat once again. 'A wise man, a great Headmaster of this very school, once said that it was not our abilities – but our choices – that made us who we truly were.'

Slughorn smiled, sadly. 'A great man indeed. A man who also counselled that we should choose what was right, rather than what was easy.' The professor sighed. 'I fear, boys, that I have too often opted for ease over right, and that is a shame to Albus' memory.' He poured a second glass of brandy. 'I do not pretend to know the path you must take, but I will do what I can to guide you on your way.'

'Thank you, sir,' Greg smiled, bowing briefly as a wave of gratitude swept over him. 'Now, I have one last question,' he swallowed. 'I know the school rules say that first-years cannot have their own brooms, but there isn't anything that says we can't borrow school brooms to use in our free time, is there?'

'Some things about my House have changed, that is for certain.' A thin smile creased Slughorn's wrinkled face. 'Yet it seems that others have not. Rules,' the man grinned, 'have only ever been as good as the person who wrote them.'

'Yes! Come on!' Isaac grinned, hurrying down the great stone steps that led beyond the castle doors. 'We did it!' He leapt from the base of the staircase, punching the air emphatically before turning to watch the other boys follow him.

'Yeah,' Greg muttered, 'and it only cost us four hours of scrubbing cauldron bottoms.' He rolled his eyes, reaching out to shove his friend in the shoulder. 'Brilliant...'

'Is that what it was all about?' Glyn asked quietly as he caught the other first-years. 'You guys getting brooms to practice on?' He shivered, despite the late summer sun. 'That's all I got into detention for?'

'No, Glyn,' Greg protested, shaking his head as the Hufflepuff boy edged backwards. 'That was just lucky. I never expected him to say yes...'

The Welsh boy stared back, unconvinced by the explanation he'd just heard. 'How come you wanted to talk to Slughorn in the first place, then? What else did you want?'

'Um...' Greg hesitated. 'Just to talk about the House...'

'Hey! Davies!' A sudden shout cut off Glyn's chance to reply, and the two Slytherins swung around to identify its source.

'Dawlish...' Isaac muttered. 'Just who we wanted to see.'

'What are you hanging around with Hufflepuffs for?' The spiky-haired boy, his shirt unbuttoned along the front, swaggered towards the other first-years. 'Not trying to curse them, are you?'

Isaac glared at the Gryffindor boy, letting his housemate answer for him.

'Is that meant to be funny?' Greg narrowed his eyes. 'Cause, even for you, that's bloody stupid. Why the hell would anyone do that in the middle of the lawn, in full view of the whole castle?'

'Oh,' Holly Davies reached a bare arm around Dawlish's shoulders, simpering. 'So you are going to curse him, but you're just waiting for somewhere quieter to do it?'

'Piss off,' Isaac snapped at his sister.

'I don't know, Holly,' a third Gryffindor, the pale, freckled boy whose name Greg couldn't remember, interrupted the conversion. 'I reckon if he was gonna curse him, he'd have done it this morning,' the boy nonchalantly slid his hands into the pockets of his cotton shirts, exaggerating the unbuttoned shirt he'd copied from Dawlish, 'in detention.'

Holly squealed in delight. 'Isaac's got detention! Isaac's got detention!' she trilled. 'Imagine what mother will have to say,' she sneered, pausing to whisper in Dawlish's ear before the three Gryffindors turned to leave.

'How do they know...?' Isaac stuttered, stumbling to sit on the base of the great staircase. 'Luc and Theo are the only others who we told... you haven't told anyone, have you?' He looked up, suddenly, at Glyn.

'No!' The Hufflepuff snapped. 'Why would I?' He took a step towards Isaac and lowered his voice, shaking. 'I haven't told anyone, anyone at all.'

'Alright, Glyn,' Greg reasoned, holding an arm out between his two friends, 'I believe you. It's just that Holly is Zac's sister...'

'Oh,' the Welsh boy swallowed, remembering their conversation inside the Potions classroom that morning. 'I guess the Professor was right about this not being easy.' He shook his head, turning away from the two Slytherins at the very same moment as another first-year rounded the tight corner in the path that led to the main entrance of the castle.

'Glyn!' The boy exclaimed, almost knocking the Hufflepuff over. 'I've been looking everywhere for you! Where have you been?' He brushed his hand over his cropped, dark hair, reaching for a thick, yellow towel slung over his left shoulder. 'We're all going down to the Lake, to, to...' His hand snatched at towel, knocking it from his pale brown shoulder as he noticed the two Slytherin boys. 'Glyn...' He whispered, as his face paled. 'Did you know...'

'Yes!' Greg snapped, overhearing the newcomer's warning. 'Of course he knew we were here! What did you think, that we had made ourselves invisible and were about to lure him to his death?' He swore, kicking the gravel away beneath his feet as he glared at the darker-skinned boy.

The newcomer took a step backwards, glancing nervously between Greg and Glyn, only to catch his foot against his own crumpled towel and trip untidily backwards.

'Jai...' Glyn sighed, squatting down beside the other boy. 'Yes, I knew they were there.' He helped his friend to his feet, before virtually dragging him towards the two Slytherins and taking a deep breath. 'This is Greg, and this is Zac... and we were in detention together this morning.' He turned back to the other boy. 'This is Jai Clarke. He's in Hufflepuff with me.'

Jai looked blankly between the three other first-years, shaking his head as he did so. 'I don't get it...' he muttered.

'It's not difficult,' Glyn insisted. 'Unless you think that because they're in Slytherin it means they've got to be Death Eaters?' He remembered his own first awkward meeting with Greg.

'B... but...'

'Look, mate,' the blond Slytherin interrupted, a grin starting to inch across his face. 'Don't say anything stupid now. We'll just take the piss out of you about it for the next seven years.' He paused, watching Jai's tense expression, before turning back to Glyn. 'Is everyone going to be like this?'

'Probably.' The Welsh boy shrugged. 'I guess it will get easier, though.'

'Yeah,' Greg smiled, ironically, 'I suppose so. Well,' he changed the subjected, 'we're going to go and meet the other Slytherins. See you later, yeah?'

Glyn nodded, emphatically. 'Yeah,' he grinned. 'Definitely.' He turned around, nudging Jai in the back as he led his housemate away. 'Look,' the Slytherin boys heard him begin to explain, 'saying they're all evil is like saying all Indian boys can't play Quidditch.'

'I'm half-Indian!' Jai mustered the energy to argue back, 'and I can play Quidditch...'

'Bloody hell...' Greg shook his head, sitting down beside Isaac. 'I see why so many people go for what's easy.'