~An Emerald amongst a Sea of Stone~
Chapter Three
Harry clipped the golden latch of his leather bag shut. It had taken some time to fit all of his new belongings inside the enchanted piece of luggage, but he wagered the effort had been worth it.
Saves me the pest of a clunky trunk.
He allowed his eyes to catch a glimpse of the grandfather clock standing in the corner of the room.
10:15. Perfect timing then.
Swinging the bag over his shoulder, he produced an old, metallic-grey skeleton key from the pocket of his robe, and gave what had been his home for the last five weeks one last surveilling glance, to check if he had forgotten anything. Nothing catching his eye, the wooden door of room number thirteen fell into its lock with a silent click.
It was strange how quickly August had flown by. Between studying magic in the mornings, reading up on customs and history in the afternoons, and occasionally talking to Tom in the evenings, it had felt like he'd been here a week at most.
It was a good thing though, he supposed.
At Privet Drive, summer holidays had always been associated with monotony and boredom for him - they were an inevitable period of suffering that, at times, seemed to stretch on for eternity. Things certainly were different around here.
He would have liked to stay even longer, but unfortunately he had no influence over the Hogwarts Express' time of departure. His legs carried him down into the taproom.
'Morning, Harry!' Tom's good-natured voice echoed from ahead.
Harry jumped down the last step of the staircase and gave the barkeeper a brief nod.
'Morning,' he greeted, his voice firm and composed.
The man glanced at the bag hanging off Harry's side. 'Leaving for Hogwarts then, I assume?' he asked with a chuckle.
Harry nodded again, allowing the keys in his hand to fall onto the counter. 'Afraid so, Tom. Maybe I'll be back next year.'
Tom grinned. 'You're welcome anytime, Harry. Just let me know in advance and I'll have a room ready for you the moment you get off the train. With a discount, of course,' he winked.
'Thanks, Tom,' Harry gave the man his trademark cheer.
The barkeep waved him off. 'Not for that, Harry. It was good having someone around to talk to. Well - someone who's not drunk, I should say, really.'
Harry glanced at the shaggy-looking wizard sleeping a few stools away from them and curled his lip in distaste.
'I'll see you around then,' he said, moving away from the counter and giving the barkeep one last wave.
'Definitely,' Tom called. 'And, Harry,' the teenager turned around. 'Enjoy your time at Hogwarts. It's the best.'
Harry gave a small smile. 'Thanks, Tom. I will.'
And with that, the teenager's head of raven hair vanished out the door. Harry briefly wrinkled his nose in disgust as he passed the toilets, but before he knew it, he stood amidst Downtown London - not for the first time this summer.
With brisk steps, Harry headed towards the subway station of Charing Cross Road, hoping to beat the inevitable rush of crowds. It was Wednesday morning, after all.
Perhaps I'll be able to secure an empty compartment.
It would rob him of a chance to make a friend, but in Harry's book that was a rather cheap price to pay. He'd tried to make friends in the past, and even though success had likely been hindered by Dudley's presence in the equation, he wasn't very keen to try again.
I've got more important things to do, anyway…
He hurried down the last steps to the station, before sliding the card he'd bought yesterday through the turnstile and making his way through the crowd of muggles around him. He noticed a brightly glowing, digital, yellow sign on the subway closest to him.
Line Seven - Piccadilly. Perfect.
As expected, the ride to King's Cross was rather eventless. The stench of old sweat, coffee, and cigarettes stang in his nose, but there was hardly anything he could do about that. At least as long as he was still bound by the underage magic restriction…
The trace was a dumb thing really - engineered to keep underage wizards and witches from casting magic for… what reason, exactly?
From what Tom had told him, the enchantment could easily be circumvented by hiding inside particularly strong or old wards - wards which most old pureblood homes possessed.
The enchantment made sure that young wizards and witches outside of such wards would not freely harness their magic - presumably to prevent a violation of the Statue of Secrecy - but why then, were adults not tracked in a similar way?
Because they had completed their education? Harry hardly found that to be a valid argument.
At least I'll be able to use my wand once I'm at Hogwarts…
He felt a soothing warmth spread in his palm, where the ebony piece of craftsmanship rested, concealed by the sleeve of his smooth, black robes. A faint smile crept onto his face.
'King's Cross Station.' a voice echoed.
Harry exited the train. The occasional glances up to the signs which hung from the ceiling guaranteed he knew the way.
Soon enough, he left London's underground behind and jumped up the top steps of a staircase, appearing at the end of a particularly long hall. A brief glance to his right told him that he was at the far end of the station. He sped up his steps.
Fourteen… Thirteen… Twelve… Eleven… Ten and nine. There it is.
He produced his ticket for the Express from his pocket.
To access Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, simply venture through the enchanted barrier adorning the first pillar between platforms nine and ten at King's Cross Station.
'Rather simple,' Harry nodded to himself.
The pillar in front of him looked just like any other, no traces of magic anywhere in sight. Flitwick said it'd be concealed. He inhaled a breath of the heavy, polluted air enveloping him, closed his eyes and strode forward.
An itching sensation tickled at his limbs and promptly, a short wave of nausea overcame him.
Just like St. Mungo's. Good thing I closed my eyes this time around…
His emerald orbs fluttered open. The first thing that caught his eye was that the grand marble platform - which seemed to stretch on for miles - was a lot emptier than he'd expected. A handful of families - half a dozen, perhaps - were spread thinly across the entire length, likely waiting for acquaintances of theirs.
Harry also noted that the platform, in general, seemed to be in extraordinary condition. It certainly looked nothing like the muggle part of King's Cross, where trash, the homeless, and dirt littered the ground everywhere one looked.
Inevitably, his eyes came to rest on the Express, and an impressed look appeared on his face.
It looked just like the books had depicted it. Crimson-red, with graceful, golden lettering adorning the front of the train's majestic, black steam engine. The Hogwarts logo was plastered proudly at its tip and the flawlessly polished, metallic surface glistened in the bright light of the morning sun which shone through the skylight above.
It was a rather pretty sight, he had to admit.
He strode across the platform, passing wagon after wagon, until finally, he reached the end of the train.
'On we go…' he murmured.
With a large step, he boarded the Express. The inside looked awfully similar to the one long-distance train he'd travelled on with the Dursleys a few years ago. It had not been a pleasant ride, though, rather because of Dudley's whining and the fact that they were visiting Aunt Marge.
Can't get much worse than that…
He glided into one of the countless empty compartments littering the hallway, and promptly ignored the luggage racks hanging from the wall. Instead, he simply sat down on one of the benches and started rummaging through his bag.
Wrong compartment… No, not this one… There it is.
He pulled his copy of An Introductory Guide to the Art of Healing forth from inside the leather, and clipped the latches of his bag shut again. He gave the book a long look.
Healing, he had learned, was an art that relied on a vast range of magical subbranches. He'd been surprised at first. After all, going through his school books, he had found that his potion and charms books were the only tomes containing any methods of healing at all.
But upon opening the guide for the first time, he'd learned a vital lesson: In order to heal, one first had to comprehend the root of an affliction. Understanding the cause was essential to effective treatment.
It was safe to say that with the nearly endless amount of ways magic could be applied to cause harm… healing was a far more complicated branch of magic than Harry had previously anticipated.
And not just that… It also confronted him with a rather grim issue.
Ultimately, he planned on finding a cure for his mother's condition - to return her to her previous functions. And what that meant had become awfully clear to him upon opening that book. He had to understand, study, and perhaps even learn how to cast the very same curse that had caused his mother's condition.
The Cruciatus Curse…
The thought hadn't made him ill, per say.
He'd obviously heard a few things about the Unforgivables - the horror they inflicted, the corruption they caused, the addiction that came with casting such terrible spells…
But that was the exact crux of the matter.
These three things were the entire extent of his knowledge about the spell. Flitwick had mentioned that it affected a victim's nervous system… but that was still nowhere near enough information for Harry to work with.
Had it been any other spell, he would've just bought a book. But in this case?
The Cruciatus was one of the most infamous pieces of dark magic recorded in magical history. Only a selected handful of individuals had ever been mentioned of even being able to cast it. He hadn't even dared to ask any vendors if they sold books giving deeper insight on the spell's origins and mechanics.
If he had, he might've been permanently placed on a list of potential dark wizards…
His only hope for now was that the restricted section of Hogwarts' library had any leads for him. And even if it had… he certainly wouldn't be able to gain access without being caught.
The situation really could have been a lot better, all things considered…
But he wouldn't let that stop him from reaching his goal. He'd made a promise to himself, and even if he couldn't fulfil it now, he would at least make sure to use his time efficiently in the meantime.
Leaning back in his seat, he opened the chapter on mending charms, only to be interrupted by a faint yet distant knock that resonated against the glass of his compartment.
Seems like I will have some company after all, Harry thought, mild annoyance flashing through him.
Allowing a mask of polite indifference to settle over his features, he smoothed out the hem of his robes, before responding to the interruption.
'Come in,' he called firmly.
The milky glass slid aside, revealing a tall, slim boy with dark skin, clad in black, silky robes which looked a bit more refined than what seemed appropriate. A bag, similar to Harry's own but adorned in black and silver hung at his side, and Harry noticed the glimmer of a silver ring gracing one of the boy's fingers.
A pureblood then.
The boy offered Harry a slight nod, his eyes shimmering with mild interest. 'I'm Blaise Zabini. Most of the other compartments are already full. Mind if I join you?' he inquired, his voice smooth and self-assured.
Harry inclined his head in return. 'Harry Potter,' he offered, standing up and extending his hand. 'Sure.'
Blaise closed the door of the compartment behind him and stashed his bag away under the bench opposite Harry before settling into his seat.
'Are you first year by any chance?' he asked.
Harry nodded. 'I am. You too?' he assumed.
Blaise sighed in relief. 'Yes. Truthfully, I was rather afraid I wouldn't find any fellows on the train. I'm from Italy, and as such most of my friends are attending Sacrovia. But Mother insisted that Hogwarts offered a far better education,' he explained.
'Sacrovia is the premier magical institute in Italy, I assume?' Harry asked.
Blaise nodded. 'Yes. They offer a vast amount of subjects, but during her time there Mother found some of the Professors to be quite lacking in their departments of supposed expertise. They prioritise quantity over quality, as it seems. That's why she wanted me to go to Hogwarts.'
Attending a school other than Hogwarts didn't even cross my mind until now.
'Too late to change your mind now, anyway,' Harry pointed out nonchalantly, eliciting a small chuckle from the other boy.
'True.' Blaise paused. 'What are you reading?'
Harry offered him a look at the book in his hands. The boy's features twisted into a mild frown.
'Healing?' he asked interestedly. 'Hadn't even crossed my mind. I was busy going over the assigned reading for the summer.'
Harry raised an eyebrow. 'Assigned reading?'
Blaise nodded. 'Yeah, apparently some Professors expect us to deal with the material in our own time even before starting classes. It makes sense, really, after all there's no need to waste time by doing the necessary reading in class.'
'Fair enough,' Harry conceded with a shrug. 'I managed to get through most of the books anyway. Astronomy was rather boring, but except for that I actually quite enjoyed it. Any classes you're excited about?'
Blaise grinned faintly. 'Definitely. Potions, for one. Professor Snape is the youngest potions master in over a century. He's bound to be good at his subject. Apart from that… charms are quite useful, I suppose. I enjoy history, but apparently the teacher is a ghost. I can't imagine that class will be too entertaining. What about you?'
Harry shrugged. 'I'm not quite sure yet. I think I'll enjoy Charms. I met Flitwick over the summer, and he seemed rather competent. But to me everything sounds great really, except for Astronomy - and now history, I suppose. Those two just seem useless.'
Blaise nodded in agreement. 'Flitwick was the European Duelling Champion once. I heard he organises a club for students he thinks might have the talent for it,' he said, before his forehead creased ever so slightly. 'You said your name was Potter, no? I remember that name from some of my lessons. Why did the Professor have to escort you? Aren't you a pureblood?'
A sour taste spread on Harry's tongue and his lip curled inward ever so slightly. He shook his head.
'I lived with my muggle relatives for the last twelve years. The Professor came by to explain everything to me,' he said in a clipped tone.
Blaise grimaced. 'Sorry if I overstepped. I don't really care about blood purity. It's not really a big thing in Italy. I was just a bit confused, because I know your name from my books.'
Harry waved him off. 'It's alright. I just don't like thinking about life with my relatives too much. We never really got along. Anyways, you're a pureblood then?' he asked.
Blaise nodded. 'Yes. Casa Zabini is one of the founding families of what is… the Italian version of the Wizengamot, I suppose. After my father died, Mother took up the mantle of Lady. I'm supposed to take over as soon as I finish my education. You have a seat here in Britain, do you not?'
Explains the ring then.
'I do. Haven't made an appointment to ratify my heirship though,' he answered.
It's not like it matters either.
They settled into an uneasy silence. Harry's gaze wandered out the window for a moment until Blaise's voice caught his attention again.
'Any wagers on your House?' he asked. 'I'm rather sold on Slytherin myself. What about you?'
Harry glanced up onto the ceiling for a second, pondering the thought.
Hufflepuff and Gryffindor were out on principle. He was self-aware enough to know that he was neither traditionally brave nor was he openly compassionate.
Ravenclaw certainly seemed like a good choice. He already enjoyed learning the intricacies of magic and having Professor Flitwick as Head of House wasn't an unappealing thought either. It was also a House perfectly suited for the life of a loner. He'd garner as little attention as possible, which - in turn - would allow him to focus on his goals.
The other option was Slytherin. And unlike Ravenclaw, that House definitely had its immediate drawbacks...
If what Tom had told him was true, he'd have to deal with bigots, inter-house rivalries, insults - really the whole nine yards, on a day to day basis. Despite the fact that his self-control left little to be desired, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself from eventually snapping in such an environment.
Nevertheless, the characteristics were certainly there. Ambition, cunning, determination, cleverness…
What was he, if not a Slytherin? The House of Snakes would certainly guarantee him an interesting time at Hogwarts…
It's rather funny it comes down to those two, considering my wand's core is from the plumage of a literal feathered serpent.
After talking to Ollivander, he had browsed Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them in pursuit of answers - a book which, coincidentally enough, had been written by the same man that had donated the Occamy feather which was now crafted into his wand.
He had found that Occamys were quite interesting creatures.
A plumage of shimmering turquoise and glistening purple feathers which reminded him an awful lot of the auroras from Ollivander's shop, a majestic, black beak capable of crushing stone, and lastly, an ability so unprecedented, he had stared at the page in disbelief at first.
An Occamy's Choranaptyxis allowed them to shift their size depending on the circumstances they found themselves in. Fully grown specimens could shift from the size of a rat to that of a double-decker bus in seconds.
Adaptability… That was certainly a trait Harry could identify himself with. His wand hummed in agreement.
'Figured it out yet?' Blaise asked suddenly, protruding his thoughts.
Harry gave a forced, apologetic smile. 'Sorry. I got a bit lost there.' He paused for a moment. 'Slytherin or Ravenclaw, I think.'
Blaise nodded thoughtfully. 'Perhaps we'll see each other in Slytherin then,' he said eventually.
Harry shrugged, his lip tugging upward ever so slightly. 'Perhaps we will,' he agreed.
The rest of the ride passed rather eventlessly. About half-way through, a rather unpolished-looking, red-haired boy had come by and asked if they had seen a toad. Unsurprisingly, they hadn't. After their visitor left, Harry had asked Blaise in a drawl what point there was in bringing a toad to school.
His Italian acquaintance had only feigned a smile in response. 'I have no idea.'
They spent most of the time reading their respective books, and soon enough, the head girl's voice had rung in their ears, telling them that they would soon arrive in Hogsmeade.
There was no need to change into their school robes, as they already wore the proper attire beneath their long, black cloaks. A sensible idea, considering Harry didn't like the idea of exposing any of his scars to complete strangers…
Although Blaise isn't really a complete stranger anymore, he supposed.
He hadn't conversed with the Italian boy much past small talk, but so far, he found Blaise's quiet and reserved nature rather refreshing.
Certainly better than any of the imbeciles back in muggle school.
'Shall we?' he asked, as the train finally came to a stop under a loud screech of its brakes.
Blaise nodded. 'Best not be late.'
They swung their respective bags over their shoulders and headed out of the compartment into the hallway. Harry could spot the first couple of students already pooling onto the platform at the end of it, and not before long the two first years deboarded the train themselves.
A deep, booming voice suddenly caught their attention. 'First years! First years this way, please! Come on, now, don't be shy. Hurry up!'
A gigantic man stood at the end of the platform, impatiently waving his hands at them. He wore a thick, brown coat, had long, black, bushy hair and a scruffy, full beard - that much Harry was able to make out in the dim light of the lanterns which illuminated the station. Harry's forehead creased as he wiped some of the rain from his glasses.
What in the world…
'He probably has some giant blood,' Blaise commented. 'Let's go. We don't want to be left behind.'
Harry composed himself and gave the Italian a curt nod. They joined the crowd of what he supposed were the other first years, awaiting any further instructions.
'Right then,' the man shouted in the same, booming voice as before. 'Hagrid's the name, for all of you! Come on and follow me. This way to the boats! Come on, you lot!'
The students, including Harry and Blaise, had a rather hard time keeping up with Hagrid's speed, but eventually they came to a stop as the muddy path beneath their feet vanished and was replaced by damp, overgrown planks of wood.
A pier.
The surface of the lake in front was pitch-black and reflected some of the moonlight which shone down upon them. Small, wooden paddle boats were parked at either side of the pier.
'Come on then, get in! But no more 'an four in a boat!' Hagrid called across the small dock.
Harry steered towards the closest boat in sight, Blaise following him. A few seconds later, two students - a short, freckled girl with strawberry-blonde hair, and a blonde, blue-eyed boy with surfer-curls - joined them.
'Terry Boot,' he introduced himself.
Harry absentmindedly nodded his head. 'Harry Potter.'
'Blaise Zabini.'
'Susan Bones.'
Their introductions came to an end, as Hagrid's voice rippled across the pier once more. Harry's eyes came to a rest on the deep, dark waters of the lake.
'Come on, follow me!'
Almost as if on command, the paddles at either side of the boat started moving, and Harry found himself leaning back into the seat of the boat, staring up into the dark, star-littered night sky.
A nice view.
A few moments later, a large wave of Oohh's and Ahhh's interrupted his attempt at star-gazing. His eyes shifted.
The silhouette of Hogwarts Castle materialised against the night, standing tall and majestic atop a cliff, its turrets reaching for the heavens. Orange lights shone out of what seemed like millions of windows, and to his own surprise, even Harry found a small smile fall over his features.
Pretty.
Eventually, their journey over the lake came to an end, as they steered towards a small boathouse nestled at the base of the hill. Above it, a narrow path snaked its way up to the shade of the tall, imposing castle.
Hagrid ushered them out of their boats, excited whispers rippling through the air, and a cold breeze brushing against Harry's face as they walked up the hill.
As they continued to climb upwards, the path widened, before eventually opening into a large courtyard which was the only thing now lying between them and the castle's gates. Harry noticed a slim, older-looking woman with a tall, black witches-hat and green robes awaiting them by the doors.
'The first years, Professor McGongall,' Hagrid said to her.
The Deputy Headmistress.
She gave him a curt nod. 'Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here,' she responded in a thick, Scottish accent. 'Follow me!' she commanded firmly.
The gates to the castle slid open, and inside headed the crowd of students. A monumental, golden statue of what Harry knew to be a Hippogriff stood proudly amidst a room filled with benches, and briefly caught his eye, before he followed the rest of his classmates and Professor McGonagall up a wide, short staircase.
They strode through another pair of gates, before coming to a halt in a small, sparingly furnished room, which - Harry supposed - served as an antechamber of sorts.
The Professor addressed them in the same stern, high tone as before. 'I will return shortly. Do not wander off,' she instructed.
She vanished behind another pair of gates, leaving the crowd of students alone in the silence of the antechamber. Unsurprisingly, the sound of chatter immediately filled Harry's ears. Blaise simply stood next to him in silence, seemingly keen not to draw any attention either.
'My brothers told me we'd have to fight a troll,' the lanky, ginger boy that had visited their compartment earlier on said anxiously.
Blaise snorted.
'Don't be stupid, Ron,' another boy, short with mouse-brown hair and a slightly chubby face laughed. 'Fred and George were taking the mick, you know how they are. Dad told me we're sorted through a judge of character. You'll make it into Gryffindor, just like me,' he said confidently.
Ron sighed. 'Thanks, Neville.'
Immediately, the eyes of some of the other students snapped towards the shorter boy. Whispers erupted around him.
Harry felt his lip curl in distaste.
Neville Longbottom. The son of the one person I might hate almost as much as Petunia Dursley and Bellatrix Lestrange.
Suddenly, the whispers died. Professor McGonagall had returned to the antechamber, her thin lips quieting anyone in sight.
'Welcome to Hogwarts,' she began in the same, thick brogue as before. 'In a few moments, you will pass through these doors and join our fine institution. But before you take your seats, you will be sorted into your Houses,' she explained.
If there's someone who didn't know that beforehand, they're doomed anyway… Harry thought.
'Hogwarts has four Houses. Gryffindor - for the brave and courageous, Hufflepuff - for the kind and hard-working, Ravenclaw - for the clever and studious, and Slytherin - for the ambitious and determined. While you are here, your house will be like your family.'
She paused, pushing her elliptic, thin-framed glasses higher up onto the bridge of her nose.
'At the end of the year, the House which has gathered the most house-points during the year, will be awarded the House Cup. House-points may be earned by triumphs, and lost by breaking the rules. I suggest you take a short moment to smarten yourselves up before following me.'
A considerable number of students hastily smoothed out the hem of their robes and flattened their hair. Harry didn't bother. His robes lacked a crinkle, and any attempt to tame his hair in the magical world had inevitably resulted in failure.
A bird's nest, as Vernon liked to put it. He sneered in memory.
'Come on then,' the Professor commanded. 'Once we are inside, you will take a seat upon the stool when called forward.'
She pushed open the doors behind her, and the first years motioned to follow her. Harry and Blaise lined up at the very back. The sight that exposed itself to them drew the most amazed reactions from some of the students, but Harry merely kept the same look of indifference as usual.
Four long tables, decorated in the colours of their respective Houses stood parallel to their sides, and on the high, enchanted ceiling, the night-sky sparkled in all its glory.
A girl's excited whisper reached his ear. 'It's not real, the ceiling. It's just bewitched to look like that. I read about it in-'
Hogwarts: A History, Harry finished the thought. Professor McGonagall raised her hand, signifying for them to come to a halt but strode onwards, instead stopping behind a dark, tall wooden stool which stood in front of the teachers' platform.
She pulled a wrinkly-looking, dark-brown, leather hat forth from beneath her robes. Harry frowned, as she placed the piece of clothing on the aforementioned stool.
And then… the bloody thing started to sing.
'Oh you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
You might belong in Gryffindor,
Where dwell the brave at heart,
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry
Set Gryffindors apart;
You might belong in Hufflepuff,
Where they are just and loyal,
Those patient Hufflepuffs are true
And unafraid of toil;
Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,
if you've a ready mind,
Where those of wit and learning,
Will always find their kind;
Or perhaps in Slytherin
You'll make your real friends,
Those cunning folks use any means
To achieve their ends.
So put me on! Don't be afraid!
And don't get in a flap!
You're in safe hands (though I have none)
For I'm a Thinking Cap!'
Harry closed his eyes, shaking his head. Even twelve more years in the wizarding world couldn't have prepared him for that ordeal…
Utterly ridiculous.
'BONES, SUSAN!' the Professor called suddenly.
The freckled, strawberry-blonde girl from earlier stepped forwards. She nodded to herself before striding up to the stool, where she sat down, and Professor McGonagall allowed the oversized hat to fall over her head. Her eyes vanished behind crinkled leather.
For a few moments, utter silence enveloped the hall, before the hat opened its mouth.
'HUFFLEPUFF!' it shouted.
The first table to Harry's left burst into cheers, the yellow-tied students clapping their applause. Susan sat down at the end of the table, next to a friendly looking boy a few years her senior.
'BROWN, LAVENDER!'
Harry zoned out the noise and allowed his gaze to drift up to the ceiling once more. He hardly cared where any other people were sorted. Well, perhaps he cared where Blaise went, but Zabini was rather unlikely to appear in the alphabet before Potter.
All in all, this day had been more exhausting than anything else. A few pretty sights, and lots and lots of crowds. For a moment, he wished he was back at his room in the Cauldron. His eyes slid back down.
'LONGBOTTOM, NEVILLE!
Of course…
Once more, whispers erupted around the brown-haired boy, as he confidently strode up to the stool and took a seat. The hat slipped over the boy's eyes, and the whispers quieted.
'GRYFFINDOR!' the hat proclaimed after a few seconds.
A bright smile appeared on Neville's face, as the House of Lions erupted into cheers. Two ginger students threw their heads into the air and whistled loudly.
'We got Longbottom! We got Longbottom!' they chanted.
Harry turned his eyes away from the sight, trying to blend out the noise as best as he could, and waited until his name was called.
'POTTER, HARRY!'
Harry pushed through what remained of the crowd, and walked up to the Professor, indifference ever-present on his face. He noticed that Professor Flitwick gave him a small smile up from the teacher's table, and returned it in kind.
From the corner of his eye, he could also see a black-clad man with a hooked nose, and greasy, black hair direct a sneer into his general direction. Harry sat down and felt the leather drape over his head.
'Well, well, well. A Potter again,' the hat's voice echoed inside his head. 'Now, where shall I put you?' it asked.
Not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.
'Not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, huh?' the voice asked again. 'Yes, I can see why you might say that. Bravery means little to you, does it? Of course. But you could use some friends, don't you think?' it asked.
I never needed them before. Why would I now?
A deep laugh reverberated through his skull. 'Never be foolish enough to believe you can tackle this world on your own, Harry Potter, or hubris will be quick to bring your downfall.'
Harry stayed silent
'Where then, shall you go? It's between Rowena or Salazar's houses, hmm…?' it rumbled. 'The Lady Ravenclaw would have been honoured to have you. A mind the likes of which has only walked these halls a handful times… you enjoy your studies… already so very proficient at magic. But is that really all there is to you?'
The hat paused, the low whisper of the Great Hall filling Harry's ears for a moment.
'No… I sense ambition there, don't I? Yes, but of course. You shoot for the stars, don't you Harry Potter? And so very determined you will succeed - a healthy arrogance you carry with you, isn't it? Oh yes, Slytherin would fit so very well. You could be great, you know? Isn't that what you've always wanted?'
Harry didn't respond.
'Of course it is. I will watch your story unfold with great interest, Harry Potter. I wish you all the best in… SLYTHERIN!'
He could tell the last word had been shouted aloud. The applause from the Slytherin table was reserved - even more so than for the other first years. But Harry didn't let that irritate him. With the same confident indifference as before, he jumped off the stool and headed towards his new House. He took a seat next to a short, blonde girl with fuzzy, shoulder-length hair. She gave him a smile.
'Tracey Davis,' she introduced herself.
'Harry Potter,' he gave her a curt nod.
His eyes drifted up to the teachers' table, where they sought out the Professor's reaction to his sorting. Flitwick didn't seem surprised, and gave him another smile. The deputy headmistress didn't look caught off guard either, though there was an almost disappointed glint to her pale eyes.
Lastly, his eyes settled upon the cloaked, hook-nosed man that had sneered at him earlier. The upturned nose still remained on his face, though there was something swimming in those dark, endless tunnels that were the man's eyes.
'ROPER, SOPHIE!' McGonagall's voice cried once more, snapping Harry out of it.
He absentmindedly listened to the rest of the sortings, until Blaise's name was called forward. Graceful steps led the boy up to the stool, and he seemed completely unconcerned as the hat fell over his head. After about fifteen seconds, it was over.
'SLYTHERIN!'
Harry clapped as Blaise hopped off the stool and moved to join their table. The raven-haired teenager nudged his head left, where empty space remained between him and the end of the bench. Blaise gave a nod before sitting down by his side.
'So we did see each other in Slytherin, after all,' the Italian boy said.
'Indeed we did,' Harry agreed dryly.
A high pitched, metallic sound directed their attention towards the teachers' table. A tall man wearing colourful robes, and thinly-rimmed, half-moon spectacles had tapped his wand against the rim of his goblet. He stood behind a large lectern and had a wide smile on his face.
'Welcome,' his amplified voice called warmly. 'To a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, a few words - Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you.' He bowed and stepped away from the lectern.
A vast selection of foods appeared on the tables, the smell of mouth-watering dinner filling the students' mouths with water. As his fellow Slytherin piled on plates of mashed potatoes, chicken and gravy, Harry merely frowned.
This is Dumbledore then…
Broccoli, chicken, and rice found their way onto his plate, and he started munching on his dinner.
'You took quite long up there. What did the hat say to you?' the same girl from earlier - Davis - protruded his thoughts
He shrugged. 'It was indecisive,' he answered simply.
'You should be honoured,' a boy with blonde, slicked back hair and pale skin commented a few seats from his right. His nose was turned upwards into a sneer and he almost radiated an aura of arrogance.
A pureblood bigot. Undoubtedly.
'Really?' Harry asked in a drawl. 'Count me honoured then.'
Blaise let out a quiet snort to his left.
'You should know your superiors, Potter!' the boy sneered. 'Half-bloods have to earn their place in our prestigious House.'
Harry turned away and stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork. 'Whatever you say,' he murmured.
Fortunately enough, the boy turned back towards his food. A short while later, a skinny boy with dark-brown hair, whose name Harry remembered to be Theodore Nott, spoke up.
'So, how…'
Harry didn't feel the need to partake in the conversation. He zoned out the noise of his new house-mates chattering away, and closed his eyes. That was until he felt Blaise tug his shoulder, and gesture up to the teachers' table.
Dumbledore, smoothing out his long, silvery beard, stood behind the lectern once more. Harry noticed that the food had vanished.
He listened to the headmaster's speech, paying attention where it mattered. The forbidden forest was forbidden, casting spells in the hallways was discouraged, and there was a vast offer of clubs to join, among them duelling and gobstones.
Unfortunately he couldn't identify any loopholes. But that wasn't too important. He was rather good at not being caught, after all.
'And for those who do not wish to die a very painful death, the third floor corridor will be out of bounds this year.'
Harry's neutral expression turned into a frown. He couldn't be serious, could he? He looked up at the headmaster, but there was no twinkle in the man's eyes, or smile on his face. Dumbledore seemed to be dead-serious.
'And with that, off to bed with all of you.'
He joined his class-mates as they got up from their benches and steered towards the two prefects waiting at the end of the table - a blue-eyed girl with a blonde ponytail, and a skinny boy with a thin nose and brown hair. The girl radiated an aura of confidence.
'I'm Gemma Fawley,' she introduced herself. 'Fifth year prefect. If you have any questions, we will be responsible for answering them during your stay at Hogwarts. For now, follow us. We will lead you to the Slytherin Common Room, where Professor Snape - our head of house - will give a short speech.'
Fawley gave the boy a sharp look and he rolled his eyes in response. 'Adrian Pucey.'
Fawley sneered at him, before leading them out of the hall. Harry and the others followed in tow.
'Our Common Room is located in the Dungeons,' she explained in a casual voice as they strode through the hallways. 'It's exact position and password is to remain a secret from any and all students from other Houses. The other Houses have similar rules in place.'
They rounded a corner.
'Tomorrow morning, we will escort you back to the Great Hall, where breakfast is served between seven and nine. Your first classes start at eight, so we will depart from the Common Room at seven-twenty sharp. If you're late, you'll have to find the way on your own,' she said, giving them a flat look.
They came to a halt in front of a dark wall in the midst of a gloomy corridor. Two, stone snakes appeared out of the ground, slithering up the wall, and forming a tall bow. The portrait of a three-headed snake formed in the space below.
Ashwinder.
'This is the entrance to our Common Room. The password is Salazar. It changes every few weeks. Do not forget it.'
They entered. The large hall was furnished neatly, chairs, tables, and couches littering the circular chamber. Green and silver accents adorned the walls, and a few banners hung to either side of the door they had entered.
A slight green, gloomy light shone through a massive front of glass at the other side of the common room, occasional streams of water flowing right past the window.
We're under the lake.
'The bedchambers for the boys are to your right, and for the girls to your left. You will be on the third floor for the entirety of your education. There are three rooms for up to two people. Who bunks with whom is up to you,' Fawley said, turning around and giving them a long look 'Professor Snape should arrive momentarily.'
Blaise gave him a nudge. 'You want to share?' he whispered.
'Sure.'
The sound of creaking wood ground out from behind him, and Harry turned around. The portrait frame swept open, and inside stepped the hook-nosed dark-eyed man in black, who had sneered at him earlier.
Professor Snape.
'I assume you have familiarised them with the basics, Miss Fawley?' Pucey didn't even warrant a glance from the man.
Fawley nodded. 'Yes, sir.'
'Good. Off with you then.'
Fawley and Pucey gave a short bow, the latter seemingly glad to be rid of his duty, before vanishing up their respective staircases.
'Welcome to the Noble House of Slytherin,' Snape said in what almost sounded like a drawl. 'For some reason or another, the Sorting Hat has deemed you… worthy enough,' He glanced at the two meaty boys by Malfoy's side. 'To sort you here.'
He paused.
'Due to our association with the Dark Lord, our House earned itself a bad reputation after the war. We became what some might consider outcasts. Slytherins are not as readily welcomed as members of other Houses, and at times…' He paused. That will be made awfully clear.'
'I shall do my best to rectify such injustices as long as it is within my abilities, but should you get caught doing something you shouldn't, I will make sure you get additional punishment. So, heed my warning - Do not.' He paused. 'Get caught.'
'Due to our precarious status, we also cannot allow to openly show disunity among others. Whatever happens in Slytherin, stays in Slytherin. In the face of the other Houses and teachers you shall always abide by this rule. Internal matters will be resolved within these walls, and nowhere else. Is that clear?'
Everyone nodded attentively.
'Good. Quidditch tryouts shall happen in the next few weeks. If you wish to try out for the team, speak to Marcus Flint. He's the sixth year prefect and Quidditch Captain this year. I will hand out your schedules tomorrow morning at breakfast. Any questions?'
There were none.
And without a warning, Snape vanished out the portrait frame, his cloak billowing behind him.
Author's Note:
Thanks for reading the Chapter. I know there was a lot of generic stuff in here, like the Sorting and such, but I hope I still managed to keep you entertained.
I originally thought to make this Chapter about Harry's summer, but decided against it, as I simply couldn't manage to make it feel how I wanted it to.
Perhaps some of you are surprised about the Slytherin Sorting. I would be lying if I claimed I didn't have Ravenclaw in mind when the idea for this story first came up, but when we look at Harry's character, I think it's rather clear that he's a Slytherin more than a Ravenclaw.
Hope you aren't too disappointed.
Blaise was another element that I didn't foresee, but I found his presence to be quite fitting in this chapter, and we will continue to see more of him. As such, I'm taking the liberty to add his person to the tags.
For all of you who also read my other story - Down in the Chamber - I can say that the new Chapter is in the works, but might take a while until it's out.
A thank you goes out to everyone who has helped me with this Chapter, especially my new Beta Jupiter, whose efforts contributed greatly to make this thing flow a lot better, but also Jono, as always.
Lastly, I want to once again invite you to leave a review and join my Discord. The link can be found on my profile on FFN, or simply here in the Author's Notes for all AO3 readers.
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I'll see you in the next one. Stay tuned.