The Lair of Slytherin
"You move quickly," Draco greeted from across the table as Harry sat down before the thunderstruck crowd had a chance to react.
"One of my gifts," Harry said, glad that Slytherin sat on the right-most table from the stage so his back could face the rest of the hall.
Harry saw out of the left corner of his eye the gazes of nearly every Slytherin descend upon him. How great of a threat this was, he didn't know. But five years of Dudley's schemes honed him to always prepare for the worst.
Which in this case meant that the students of this house idealized the conquered Voldemort and may seek revenge for his downfall.
"Quite dramatic too," Pansy added with a pretty smile.
"I'm not dramatic," Harry insisted.
"In a good way. Your sorting just made my day!" she said with seemingly dancing olive-green eyes as her eyelashes fluttered.
Harry flushed as a stupid grin broke across his face.
A humph sounded next to Harry's left ear. Theodore did not look amused.
The sorting resumed again for the few remaining students.
"Rivers, Oliver." "RAVENCLAW!"
"Thomas, Dean." "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Tolipan, Alice." "GRYFFINDOR!"
"Weasley, Ronald."
Harry whirled around and faced the stage, feeling bound to watch Ron's sorting.
"GRYFFINDOR!" the Sorting Hat called out about five seconds later — one of the five fastest sortings.
Harry excitedly applauded, even with the side eye Draco shot his way. He gave a toothy smile to show Ron that he was happy for him, which grew wider when their eyes met.
But Ron immediately jerked his head away from Harry and the Slytherin table.
"You will find no friends in Gryffindor," Draco said matter-of-factly.
"It's stacked with the children of the radicals," Pansy added from Draco's left.
"Radicals?" Harry couldn't help but ask.
"They wanted to seize the assets and liberties from citizens who dared criticize the ministry in the past half century," Draco answered. "Did their best too, in the conflict's aftermath."
"And Minister Bagnold clung on to her tyrannical 'state of emergency' powers till her approval ratings couldn't take it anymore," Pansy huffed. "And they wonder why Crouch lost the election."
First thing tomorrow, I'm picking up a history book, Harry decided.
"What are your opinions on the movement?" Theodore suddenly and bluntly asked as the final first year, Blaise Zabini, sat on Harry's right near the end of the table.
The movement that killed my parents? Led by a dark wizard I apparently defeated? Gee, I really wonder.
"I like to think of the future," Harry said. "The past is just a memory. It happened, there's nothing we can do about it, there's nothing we can do to change it. But we can make our own future."
Harry added a small smile that he hoped was disarming.
"So, Harry Potter is a politician," Theodore responded with a scoff.
"Don't mind him," Draco interjected. "He rarely has anything good to say. Much less worth listening to."
"You're just addicted to the sound of your own voice," Theodore cut back.
The two boys glared at each other.
"Nine, right?" the blonde girl to Theodore's left — Daphne Greengrass — asked.
"Mm-hmm," Vincent confirmed from across her, the innermost seated of the first-years on Draco's side of the table.
"Gryffindor passed us at the end though," Pansy bemoaned. "They picked up three in a row!"
"They're ahead only by one. Well, half given they have Weasley," Draco said with a sneer at Ron. "And we got one more than Ravenclaw."
"Anyone count Hufflepuff?" Pansy asked.
"Six," Theodore said with scorn.
The first years besides Harry laughed. Harry gave a chuckle for appearances, but he thought it was a bit mean to laugh at Hufflepuff for their low turnout.
It is a ridiculous name though.
"Imagine being called a 'puff' for seven years," Draco dramatically gasped in horror. "I would cut my ears off to forestall the shame!" he proclaimed while leaning back with his hand against his forehead as if fainting.
All the first years, Harry included, laughed uproariously at Draco's theatrics.
"The worst part…is no one…would even notice!" Pansy choked out between giggles.
The laughter grew.
I'd rather be hated than ignored, Harry determined. Any day.
The firecracker-like boom sounded from the stage again.
"Your attention, please," Ms. McGonagall called out.
Headmaster Dumbledore rose again to his full height.
"Nitwit, blubber, oddment, tweak!" he said.
What?
Looking around, Harry's fellow Slytherins were just as confused.
"How odd," Draco remarked quietly.
"Let the feast…BEGIN!" the Headmaster boomed with outstretched arms.
His odd words were instantly forgotten as a banquet fit for a dozen kings appeared on the Slytherin table.
"Woah," Harry gasped as he saw more food than he had in his life. All table manners forgotten, his jaw hung open as his mouth watered.
"You have seen food before, yes?" Theodore asked in a sarcastic drawl.
Harry rolled his eyes before he could stop himself. But he did remember Sir's table instructions — sans the insistence on vegetables.
In a dignified fashion, he helped himself to some perfectly medium-rare filet mignon, baked mac and cheese topped bacon bits and some blue-cheese crumble, stuffed mushrooms and a mushroom demi-glace sauce to top off the plate.
Make sure nothing touches the rim. Make sure white from the base separates each of the food items. No smudges. Carefully drizzle the sauce. Carefully pattern it. No splotches. No specks. Make sure nothing touches the rim!
"Is this a plating contest?" Blaise asked while gesturing at Harry and Draco.
"Someone forgot their vegetables," Draco criticized.
"There's a speck at the corner of your rim — right there," Harry pointed out.
"No there's not—well, I have a better contrast in colors!" Draco insisted.
Harry gave a cheeky smile.
"Perhaps, it could be a tie, just this once," Draco said airily.
"Deal," Harry agreed.
He brought a knife into his right hand, fork on the left, and finally began slicing into the premium cut of steak.
Only to be forced to bring his knife into a defensive arc when he caught the glint of metal slashing toward him from the left.
"Huh?" Harry sounded when his knife met air despite the precision of his swing.
Gasps simultaneously came from the other first years as what seemed to be the blood-stained ghost of a medieval noble rose through and above the table to float among them!
"The Bloody Baron!" Draco exclaimed, the first of Harry's yearmates to recover from the surprise.
"It has been fifty-three years since an initiate properly reacted to me," the baritone-voiced ghost stated while boring his indigo gaze at Harry. "All the more impressive is that you were not forewarned, unlike your yearmates. Hail, young Potter."
"Thank you, sir," Harry beamed. "It's great to meet you too."
"I look forward to observing your journey," the Bloody Baron pronounced as he gave a salute with his gold-hilted dagger.
Harry bowed his head respectfully at the Slytherin ghost in return.
In the blink of an eye, the Bloody Baron whooshed down the table while slashing his phantom dagger to and fro in would-be fatal strikes against random older students. Of the dozen chosen, most failed the test. However, two successfully dodged, and one boy used the student next to him as a shield, which earned a nod from the baron. Finally, one black-haired guy near the other end ducked while delivering a counter-strike of his own that would have disabled the baron's combat arm had it been made of flesh.
That guy received verbal approval from the Slytherin ghost.
"That's Marcus Flint, captain of the Quidditch team," Draco answered Harry's unasked question. "Few gain the baron's respect even after seven years."
His voice came out rather terse though, betraying his current unhappiness.
Jealous, much?
But before Harry could think on how to diffuse the tension with his yearmate — yearmates plural actually, given Theodore's tensed shoulders, Blaise's pursed lips, Millicent's slight frown and Gregory's open glare — Harry felt a fierce pounding blast through his mind.
"Mmmph," Harry sounded quietly at the unexpected discomfort before he could control himself.
Feeling the cause emanating from his right, Harry looked up at the head table.
His eyes first fell on Professor Quirrell — the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher while shopping with Hagrid — seated at the second seat from the left. Their eyes instantly met, at which Hogwarts' youngest teacher flashed Harry a shining smile that put him at ease.
At least until Harry saw the leftmost figure on the table — a tall, pale man with a glare as dark as his neck-length hair.
"Our Head of House does not like you," Draco claimed with confidence.
"We've never met," Harry dismissed his jealous housemate's theory.
"Well, I have met him," Draco said with authority. "And I am very sure he doesn't like you."
Theodore snorted.
In any case, Harry's headache had disappeared, so he at long last dug into his meal. And helped himself to seconds. And thirds. And then to three slices of treacle tart.
Harry had to actively repress a groan when he was forced to stand by a curly-haired girl four or five years older than him. While Harry found it impressive that she had ducked a swing from the Bloody Baron, he was unimpressed by her insistence on marching the first years out before anyone else had to get up from the table.
Not fair.
"I'm Prefect Gemma Farley," she introduced herself the moment they walked out of the dining hall, "And I'm delighted to welcome you to SLYTHERIN HOUSE!"
Impressively, Gemma led the group while walking backward from there on out, missing neither a step nor a word as she introduced Harry and his yearmates to their Hogwarts house. As she led the group through the reception hall, Draco naturally walked in front of the other first years while Harry struggled to bring up the rear.
How is she walking faster than I am while going backward and giving a presentation?
"Our emblem is the serpent, the wisest of creatures; our house colors are emerald green and silver, and our common room lies behind a concealed entrance down in the dungeons," Gemma informed. "As you'll see, its windows look out into the depths of the Hogwarts lake. We often see the giant squid swooshing by – and sometimes more interesting creatures. We like to feel that our hangout has the aura of a mysterious, underwater shipwreck."
"Now, there are a few things you should know about Slytherin – and a few you should forget," Gemma started as they approached a long, winding flight of stairs.
Harry's ears perked up at this, and he found himself walking past several of his classmates toward the front of the group just as they started down.
"Firstly, let's dispel a few myths. You might have heard that we're all into the dark arts and will only talk to you if your great-grandfather was a famous wizard. Well, don't believe everything you hear from competing houses. I'm not denying that we've produced our share of dark wizards, but so have the other three houses – they just don't like admitting it. And yes, we have traditionally tended to take students who come from long lines of witches and wizards, but nowadays you'll find plenty of people in Slytherin House who have at least one muggle parent."
Good thing I have two wizard parents, Harry thought with relief. Gemma going out of her way to say Slytherins didn't look down on wizards from muggle families meant that they did.
Then again, it probably wouldn't be a good idea to let slip that he was raised by muggles.
"But that's enough about what we're not," Gemma continued. "Let's talk about what we are, which is the coolest and edgiest house in this school. We play to win, because we care about the honor and traditions of Slytherin."
'Play to win' and 'care about honor' go in the same sentence only if there's a 'don't' between them, Harry thought sardonically.
"We also get respect from our fellow students," Gemma said as they approached the staircase's base. "Yes, some of that respect might be tinged with fear, because of our dark reputation, but you know what? It can be fun, having a reputation for walking on the wild side."
"But we're not bad people. We're like our emblem, the snake: sleek, powerful, and frequently misunderstood," Gemma championed as they started down an underground corridor. "We Slytherins look after our own – which is more than you can say for Ravenclaw. Apart from being the biggest bunch of swots you've ever met, Ravenclaws are famous for clambering over each other to get good marks, whereas we Slytherins are brothers and sisters. The corridors of Hogwarts can throw up surprises for the unwary, and you'll be glad you've got the Serpents on your side as you move around the school. As far as we're concerned, once you've become a snake, you're one of ours – one of the elite."
"Because you know what Salazar Slytherin looked for in his chosen students? The seeds of greatness. You've been chosen by this house because you've got the potential to be great, and don't you forget it," Gemma stated emphatically. "And talking of people who aren't destined for greatness, I haven't mentioned the Gryffindors."
What were you saying about not believing everything you hear from competing houses?
"Now, a lot of people say that Slytherins and Gryffindors represent two sides of the same coin," Gemma began her propaganda. "Personally, I think Gryffindors are nothing more than wannabe Slytherins. Mind you, some people say that Salazar Slytherin and Godric Gryffindor prized the same kinds of students, so perhaps we are more similar than we like to think. But that doesn't mean that we cosy up with Gryffindors."
Draco gave Harry a very pointed look and a smirk at the end of that spiel. Harry duly noted that they were now walking side by side ahead of the pack.
"A few more things you might need to know: our house ghost is the Bloody Baron," Gemma stated as they approached the end of the hall. "If you get on the right side of him, and one of you already has, he'll sometimes agree to frighten people for you."
Harry gave Draco a smirk at that.
"Just don't ask him how he got bloodstained; he doesn't like it," Gemma warned as they approached the stone wall. A wall patterned with engraved snakes.
"Basilisk!" Gemma called out without turning around. The snakes slithered in response until the wall parted to reveal a dim yet spacious stone room.
"The password to the common room changes every fortnight," Gemma informed. "Keep an eye on the noticeboard inside. Never bring anyone from another house into our common room or tell them our password. No outsider has entered it for more than seven centuries."
She fixed a heavy stare upon each one of them after the last sentence, commanding them not to break the record. She then resumed walking, still backward.
"I'm sure you'll like our dormitories," she said after a minute of silence once they began ascending a flight of stairs. "We sleep in ancient four-posters with green silk hangings, and bedspreads embroidered with silver thread. Medieval tapestries depicting the adventures of famous Slytherins cover the walls, and silver lanterns hang from the ceilings. You'll sleep well; it's very soothing, listening to the lake water lapping against the windows at night."
With that, they came to a long hallway with rooms on each side.
"Boys to the left, girls to the right," Gemma gestured at the first two doors respectively.
"Excuse me, I have a question," Harry asked since it seemed the tour was at an end.
"Yes?" Gemma invited.
"Can we speak to snakes?"
Some sniggers came from the group behind him. Draco gave a tut-tut and a roll of his eyes.
"No, we can't," she said patiently.
I know it is not my imagination, Harry thought as he remembered his frequent conversations with garden snakes as a kid until Ma'am heard him once, after which Sir gave him one of the worst beatings of his life — an "intervention of the Spirit," he called it.
"Are there no wizards who can?" Harry pressed.
"Salazar Slytherin could speak to and command serpents, which is why they're the symbol of our house," Gemma explained. "A number of his early descendants inherited this power, but only one bloodline kept it alive through the centuries. However, that lineage is believed to be extinct."
Am I a descendant of Salazar Slytherin? Harry suddenly wondered. He knew nothing of his heritage. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours since he learned the truth about his family.
Family.
"And who was the last of this Slytherin family?" Harry asked.
Better figure out my relationship to him. Or her.
Gemma looked at Harry solemnly, her hazel eyes fixing directly on his scar.
Wait a minute. Is she saying…
"You-Know-Who."
I'm…related to the man who murdered my parents?
A silence set over the group.
"Well, I know it's been a long day for all of you!" Gemma said brightly. "Your beds await, along with your luggage. But always feel free to come to me if you have questions about school or house life. For now, I wish you all a wonderful night!"
After leading the chorus of thank you's and reciprocal good night wishes, Harry walked into the boy's dorm to find a circular green-and-silver themed room.
The orientation of the six beds perfectly divided the room into sixths, with four diagonal oriented and the middle two forming a horizontal line from Harry's perspective. On one of the beds on the opposite side of the room, the bed to Harry's diagonal right, he saw a familiar snow-white owl hopping about.
"Hey girl!" Harry exclaimed as he started toward his bed, glad to be on one of the ones furthest from the corridor. But as he got within a few meters from his bed, a step or two away from hopping over the luggage pile at the foot of the bed into the inviting sheets awaiting him, the owl suddenly shrieked piercingly.
Before Harry could clutch his ears to block the noise, time seemed to freeze as a sensation very like the one he experienced at Ollivander's shop came over him.
"Hold! I claim that bed!" a demanding voice called from behind Harry as he walked toward the bed that had his belongings in front of it.
Exhausted from a long day, Harry barely heard his roommate and ignored him. His mistake.
"Ah!" he suddenly yelped as an agonizing sting tore into the back of his neck.
"I said that bed is mine," stated the stormy-eyed attacker as Harry whirled around to face him.
Unfortunately, with Nott's wand pointed squarely at his face, Harry had no chance to defend himself from the flash of light that shot out a moment later.
Harry fell flat on his back, his face consumed in burning, blinding pain.
"Guess you're not as good as the baron thought," Nott taunted as he stomped on Harry's stomach. "Let me make this short and simple, mudblood. You are beneath us, and you should be grateful to even be in our presence. Learn your place, and stay down!"
As Nott stomped on his face and started kicking over his things, smashing some against the floor, a din of laughter rose from the other boys.
And as Harry lay smarting on the ground, he promised himself he would make Nott pay.
Or, Harry realized as woke from the waking dream, he could simply stop Nott from doing this in the first place.
With all the energy and urgency Harry could muster, he spun around on his left foot while crouching to avoid the white ball of light that just missed his neck.
Knowing exactly where Nott's face would be, Harry clenched his fist and drove it up into Nott's nose with all his strength and fury.
A satisfying crunch sounded through the room.
"AH!" Theodore screamed as he clutched his nose and stumbled back.
He still held his wand even as he pressed both hands against his face, but that was easily solved. Harry hurled himself at Theodore's chest and tackled the slightly-taller boy to the ground. Grabbing Theodore's face, Harry slammed the back of his head into the stone ground twice, then ripped the boy's wand from his hands.
Harry shot up and backed to the nearest point at the wall, knowing from experience not to leave his back to the others after daring to fight back against one.
"Anyone else?" Harry growled as he trained his eyes on the other four boys while pointing Theodore's wand outward.
Phoenix core, Harry guessed from the partial resonance he found in the core. At least that meant he didn't have to waste a precious two or three seconds grabbing his own wand if it came to a fight.
"I don't want a fight," Draco said with a somewhat disarming tone and raised hands.
Harry wanted to believe him, but he had been tricked before by Dudley's gang. Besides, they would have all laughed had he been the one on the ground.
I'm definitely keeping my visions to myself, Harry resolved.
"How do I know you won't gang up on me when I sleep?" Harry challenged Draco while still keeping an eye on Gregory, Vincent and Blaise.
"I certainly won't raise my wand on Theodore's behalf," Draco scoffed in what seemed to be genuine contempt for the downed boy.
Theodore picked himself up and sent a striking glare at Draco. Harry now found himself in a room with five too many people. Worse, he was furthest from the door.
But Harry had an even worse problem. From where Gregory, Vincent and Blaise were hovering, it seemed that Vincent's bed was the middle bed on the other side of the room, Gregory's bed was the first on the left when they had walked in and Blaise's was the first on the other side of the door.
With Draco standing just to the right of Harry's bed, that left Theodore with the middle bed next to Harry!
"I'm not sleeping next to him," Harry told Draco while pointing Theodore's wand at its owner.
"You will not have to," Draco stated firmly. "Goyle, take the bed next to Harry. Theodore will take yours."
Theodore looked angry at this downgrade, but realized he was outnumbered and wandless. Harry finally managed to lower the wand in his hand as Theodore and Gregory pushed their luggage to each other's original bed.
"Thanks girl," Harry whispered to his owl in the meanwhile. "I owe you one."
"My wand," Theodore said from the other side of the room.
Right, he wants his weapon back.
Unless Harry stayed up all night, it would be beyond idiotic to give Theodore his wand back. But by that same token, he couldn't keep the wand either unless he wanted Theodore to whale on him in the middle of the night.
He was going to break my things while everyone laughed, Harry remembered. He didn't exactly see what would have happened to his owl, but he wouldn't be surprised if Theodore laid his hands on her.
You wanted to break my things. Let's see how you like it.
Harry seized the wand with both hands and pushed against it. Finding the wood much stronger than it appeared, Harry poured all his strength into the task. But even then, Harry nearly had to rest his throbbing arms before he finally snapped Theodore's stick in two.
"No!" the boy shouted as a powerful gunshot-like sound filled the room.
"Here's your wand," Harry sneered while hurling the pieces across the room. He barely heard himself over the ringing of his ears though.
Luckily, there wasn't anything to hear for the next half-minute as the other boys stood around in shock.
"Well, I think that's enough excitement for one night," Draco finally said. "We best prepare for bed."
Harry, having been awake since the previous midnight, couldn't agree more. He immediately leapt onto his green-and-silver beddings, closed the emerald-colored curtains and barely took off his robes and glasses before falling fast asleep.