Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walked shakily toward the Slytherin table. He hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. He approached Draco who shoved Goyle out of the seat next to him clearly wanting Harry to sit next him. Harry didn't want to be rude and took the newly vacated seat.
He could see the High Table properly now. At the end nearest him sat Hagrid, who caught his eye and smiled weakly at him. Harry smiled back, unsure what else to do. It was as Harry scanned over the facility table did he notice the center seat In a large gold chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. Harry recognized him at once from the card he'd gotten out of the Chocolate Frog on the train. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry spotted Professor Quirrell, too, the nervous young man from the Leaky Cauldron. He was looking very peculiar in a large purple turban.
And now there were only three people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," ended up at the Gryffindor table. "Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw Followed by "Weasley, Ronald." "GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry watched as Professor McGonagall called out the final name. "Zabini, Blaise," A few seconds later Blaise was made a Slytherin. Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the Sorting Hat away. Harry smiled as Blaise to the seat across from Harry and smiled. Harry looked down at his empty gold plate. He had only just realized how hungry he was. The sweets on the train seemed ages ago.
Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. "Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!
"Thank you!"
He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.
"Is he, a bit mad?" he asked Draco as he clapped weakly.
Draco's mouth coiled on one side as he nodded. "Yeah, they say he was one of the most powerful Wizard of the age." Draco said leaning closer to Harry. "Father says he lost his edge in his old age. If Father has his way, Dumbledore won't be Headmaster much longer." Draco smirked. "Pass the Potatoes."
Harry's mouth fell open. The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. He had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.
The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry, but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if It made him sick. Harry piled his plate with a bit of everything except the peppermints and began to eat. It was all delicious. When everyone had eaten as much as they could, the remains of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as before. A moment later the desserts appeared. Blocks of ice cream in every flavor you could think of, apple pies, treacle tarts, chocolate eclairs and jam doughnuts, trifle, strawberries, Jell-O, rice pudding.
As Harry helped himself to a treacle tart, the talk turned to their families. "Father was leaning towards sending me to Durmstrang but mother was insistent that I be closer to home." Draco said as he toyed with his apple pie. "Rumor is that Durmstrang actually teaches the Dark Arts. At least, that's what I've overheard when father thinks I'm out of earshot." Draco snickered.
Draco looked over his shoulders and leaned closer to the table. "Blaise, you notice no unknown names in the Sorting?" Draco asked in a whisper. "Not a single Mudblood in our year." He looked around to see that no one was listening in. "Not that Davis is Pure, but I guess it could be worse."
Blaise nodded and sat back down. "You should be more careful Draco. Just cause I share your opinion doesn't mean we need to talk about it so openly." Blaise said pushing his empty bowl away from him. "Your father must have exampled his restraint in public. I know mother is a fantastic actress and even has Muggle born "Friends". We won't always be in a situation to only associate with Pure Bloods "
Just from their interactions it was clear to Harry that Blaise was more soft spoken and more rational than Draco. Draco was more passionate about his beliefs and what his parents had taught him. Pansy seemed to agree with everything Draco said while Theodore seemed to simply watch the interactions, voicing no opinion of his own.
Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.
It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes — and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.
"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his head.
"What is it?" asked Theodore.
"N-nothing." Harry said brushing it off. The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look, a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.
"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked. Harry was only met with quizzical stares.
"Quirrell. The one with the purple turban. Who's that next to him?" Harry asked again, not wanting to point.
"Oh that's Professor Snape. He's our Head of House." Draco said confidently. "He teaches Potions, but he doesn't want to. Father says he should have been teaching Defense against the Dark Arts for years. Knows an awful lot about the Dark Arts, Snape."
Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape didn't look at him again. At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.
"Ahem — just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well." Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins. "I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch. And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did. "He's not serious?" he muttered to Draco. Draco didn't seem sure himself.
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed
that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words. Harry was about to attempt the song when Draco nudged him in the ribs and shook his head. It seemed that none of Slytherin even bothered to sing the song. Harry just watched and instantly understood. It was a terrible song. Even the Professors didn't sing just sat there with their fake smiles (with the exception of Snape who hadn't smiled the entire evening) and their shared knowing glances with each other.
As the song finished the First years were escorted out of the Great Hall by a Slytherin Prefect. "Who's she?" Harry asked in a whisper. Instead of being answered by Draco or Blaise, Pansy spoke up.
"Does ickle Harry have a crush on the mean old Prefect?" she asked jokingly. "That's Rebecca Severon. Daddy has meetings with her father regularly. She used to babysit for me." The Slytherin first years followed Rebecca through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall. They slowly made their way through the halls and down several flights of stairs.
Finally they came to a hallway with no discernible features. "Remember this route. It's the best way to get to the Slytherin Common room from the Great Hall." Rebecca said. She turned to face a portion of the wall. "This years password is Copperhead."
As soon as she said it a stone door concealed in the wall slid open. The Slytherin common room was a long, low underground room with rough stone walls and ceiling from which round, greenish lamps were hanging on chains. A fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and there were several silhouettes of high-backed chairs.
"Now, Boys dorm down the left hall, fourth door on the right." Rebecca said motion to a hallway. "Girls are down the right hall, fourth door on the left. If you have any questions it would be better that you ask me then Professor Snape." Without another word Rebecca disappeared down the girls hallway.
Harry spent the remainder of the evening reviewing his text books at the suggestion of an older student passing by. It wasn't long until the first years started packing it in and heading to bed. Perhaps Harry had eaten a bit too much, because he had a very strange dream. He was wearing Professor Quirrell's turban, which kept talking to him, telling him he that he made the right choice joining Slytherin, because it was his destiny. Harry told the turban he didn't care that he was in Slytherin, but with his friends; it got heavier and heavier; he tried to pull it off but it tightened painfully, and there was Malfoy, attempting to help him take the turban off, then Malfoy turned into the hook-nosed teacher, Snape, who started laughing at him. The laugh became high and cold, there was a burst of green light and Harry woke, sweating and shaking.
He rolled over and fell asleep again, and when he woke next day, he didn't remember the dream at all.
