Chapter 3: Pit of Snakes
Scorpius almost laughed with astonishment. Slytherin?
He certainly felt a grin creep across the corners of his lips as he watched the Weasley girl's jaw drop and her face turn tomato-red, clashing with her auburn hair. The girl stared in perfect horror across the hall, eyes wide and mouth open. He quickly reigned in his smile and replaced it with his usual bored scowl as Headmistress McGonigal had to lend the girl her hand and lead her a few steps towards his table. It was the same girl who had the common sense to counter her weight on the other side of the boat when he'd climbed back in from his disgusting swim in the loch. She'd prevented the entire boat from capsizing.
His eyes sought the Potter brothers across the hall. They both looked like fish taken out of water, gasping for air and drained of all color. Had someone stupefied them?
He listened to the Slytherins near him whisper, no one was clapping as the Weasley girl clumsily walked towards his table, somehow managing not to faceplant as she continuously stumbled over her own feet. He noticed her hands were violently shaking. The great hall had erupted into a cacophony of whispers. McGonigal at least had the good sense to continue on with the sorting quickly.
"A Weasley in Slytherin?"
"What a disgrace."
"This is going to tarnish our house name."
"Ew, I'm not sleeping in a dorm with her."
"Doesn't she have muggle grandparents?"
"Look at her hair… did she get electrocuted on the way into Hogwarts?"
"Isn't her family all Gryffindors?"
"I bet she was raised a self-righteous prick."
He tried his best not to roll his eyes, pushing his platinum blond hair out of his face to suppress the impulse. He had a part to play.
His own family name was tarnished beyond belief, both his father and grandfather being former Death Eaters. Not to mention his grandfather was still imprisoned in Azkaban. There were a few other descendants of Death Eaters at this table too, but their parents hadn't been high-ranking. They didn't get the weekly scathing publicity. Didn't get thrown dirty looks or biting remarks in the streets. Didn't get denied entry to public buildings. Sitting in the great hall was the first time he'd been in a room with more than 10 people for an extended period of time, he just realized.
He'd never seen his father so ecstatic and prideful before, when he'd received a letter from Hogwarts addressed to a "Dear Mr. Scorpius H. Malfoy, Esquire."
The letter had been unexpected.
He hadn't dared to hope or consider the school would ever accept a Malfoy again, not after all the dark stories his father had told him. After all of his father's mistakes and regrets. The evening he got his letter, his father had said a toast and let him try his first glass of honey wine. Even his grandfather had sent a letter from Azkaban offering his congratulations, and his grandmother had gifted him a great black owl "to keep in touch." It'd been the best evening of his life.
His mother had, of course, chalked up his good fortune to the Greengrass name, as she always did. She could be so controlling. He knew his parents' marriage had been somewhat arranged, his mother especially discontent with being locked up in Malfoy manor… and being a mother. Aligning the Greengrass name with the Malfoy's had been an attempt to elevate his family's image. The Greengrasses, in return, got access to the Malfoy fortune. His mother was rarely home, preferring to spend her time and Malfoy money out with her "friends" in other countries. His father, on the other hand, had gone to great lengths to tutor and school him, practically making it his full-time job. Scorpius had relished in his father's lessons, ranging from muggle subjects to basic foundations for wizardry… and occlumency.
He had a part here to play at Hogwarts, to better the Malfoy name. To atone for his father's mistakes. He'd have to be noticed just enough to be a good student, but not too much to draw unwanted attention to himself. His rescue on the boat had been a mistake, his words afterward meant to be directed at himself and not his classmate. He hadn't even thought twice about jumping in once he realized that stupid boy couldn't swim.
Toads could swim.
He carefully controlled his features as Weasley finally loomed above his table, the first-year Slytherins either avoiding her eyes or glaring up at her. She just stood there, as if waiting for someone to either tell her to "fuck off and go home" or to welcome her. He sighed. He hadn't been welcomed at the table, but neither had he been denied. His family name was damned. To associate with him, especially on the first evening, would be social suicide. The girl was a Weasley, and cousin to the Potters! The Slytherins wouldn't like that, but he knew they would eventually warm up to the fact that her parents were downright famous and important people. He couldn't contaminate her with his association, especially this first evening. Weren't there any Slytherin girls who would want to capitalize on her parent's fame and at least acquaint themselves with her? Must be nice to be born in the limelight.
He took the measure of the table quickly. A group of four first-year boys huddled towards one end and a group of three girls in the middle. He'd sat towards the end of the table, giving his new classmates enough room away from his Malfoyness. The Weasley girl could either sit completely alone at the far end of the table or between him and the group of girls.
He breathed out slowly and met her terrified brown eyes, silently inclining his head for her to take the seat next to him and the group of girls. He pushed himself further towards the end of the table, preventing her from taking the seat all alone. He noticed her swallow multiple times and walk to the space he'd cleared for her.
Don't you dare cry.
It'd condemn her for seven years if she showed tears to this group of Slytherins on her first night. She gingerly sat on the bench beside him and turned to face him. No, talking to him would also be the wrong move. Didn't she realize that?
The sorting ceremony was almost done now. The Slytherin girls were quiet, assessing. Judging. He watched as the last student had been sorted into Slytherin and strode over to the table exuding confidence beyond his years, taking a seat closer to the girls than to him. Please let him break the ice.
"I'm Milo Zabini," the boy flashed his amber eyes and white smile around the group of first years. "Anyone else ready to have fun this year?"
He let his face craft a careful smile. The Weasley girl was still swallowing back the tears that threatened to pour down her cheeks any second, but at least she was looking at the boy and nodding her head. Good. If she needs to be liked, then he needs to be feared. Let my work begin!
Am I hallucinating? Is this a dream? What in Merlin's name just happened? She was sitting in a sea of students with black and green robes. They were talking… and looking right at her. She looked down, avoiding their eyes. Her robes were lined in forest green. When did that happen? A new wave of horror trickled down her spine. She couldn't tell which was pounding harder – her brain or her heart. She couldn't understand what the students were saying and her body felt numb. Was she having a stroke? Could she speak?
"What did you say?" She managed to sputter out intelligibly.
She felt her cheeks burn. The corner of her eyes blazed… that'd be no good. She swallowed her tears back. When had her mouth become so dry? She focused on the boy who'd just sat in front of her, looking into clever amber eyes and a striking white smile set against warm black skin.
"I said, are you ready to have fun this year?" the boy winked at her. She still couldn't quite comprehend. Fun with what?
"Is she deaf?" a girl with short black hair mocked with a giggle.
Nope, this definitely was not a dream. She was in Slytherin. In a hellscape. A nightmare. A place where girls her age mocked sensory impairments like they were something to be made fun of. She felt her shock and self-pity burn into something else… rage? Couldn't the girl just mock her instead of a whole population of people?
"I.. I… I.. am.. am not.." She was furious.
She wanted to let the girl know her words were despicable, deafness not being something to mock. Why was she trying to defend herself instead?
"Oh l-l-l-l-look, she even st-st-st-stammers!" a girl with straight strawberry-blond hair let out an inelegant snort.
That put her over the edge.
"How dare you! You have no right to mock a deficit and disparage an entire group of people. You're disgusting, implying that deafness or stammering has something to do with intelligence!" she seethed with all her might, raising herself from the table.
"Oh ho! The lion has claws," the black-haired girl grinned, clearly unperturbed by her sudden assertiveness.
"I think you mean the snake has fangs, " Milo stated, showing off a toothy smile.
"But does she have any venom?" the boy next to her whispered, a hand brushing through his platinum blond locks.
She shivered at the boy's question, recalling how vile he'd been against Burt on the boat. She was saved from a response by Headmistress McGonigal announcing the feast to begin. Her tirade wasn't anywhere near finished, but it'd have to wait for another time and place. The other boy had sapped her energy the moment he called her a snake, not a lion.
What had been an empty table suddenly sported a variety of mouthwatering dishes. She longingly gazed at the heaps of exotic fruits, fresh vegetables, simmering stews, colorful potatoes, buttery noodles, steaks, spiced-sprinkled salmons, steaming loaves of bread, marmalades, jars of butter, and goblets filled to the brim with pumpkin juice or hot spiced ciders. She heard a boy with curly brown hair let out a "whoa!" at the other end of her table and she wholeheartedly agreed. It looked delicious, and all she'd had on the train was a chocolate frog. Her mouth was watering. Her mind was reeling. Maybe just some bread and butter, and maybe some potatoes too, just to help stop my mind from spinning.
After eating salmon, three piping hot bread rolls, wild rice, and many slices of grilled pineapple, she let her mind tune into the conversation. Her fellow first-year Slytherins were introducing each other, and their pompous egos.
"I'm Caitriona Shieldstark," the girl with the short black hair proclaimed. "And my father is the head of the Magical Department of Transportation."
"Well my father owns Quality Quidditch Supplies in Diagon Alley," the strawberry blond with a high-pitched voice countered. "My name's Penelope Lommis, by the way."
"Oh, I love that place! I'm Tybalt Flint," a boy with giant buck teeth called across the table, "My dad is a quidditch player for Argentina. We own a vineyard out there."
"I'm Cyprian Jacknife, my father owns a bludger factory on the Isle of Man," the boy with curly brown hair commented.
"Tristan Bletchley, my parents are head bankers at Gringotts," a boy with a button nose stated. "And we have a castle in France."
"Aiske Aries," a brunette with wavy hair and a long face offered after a pause. "My father's a Healer at St. Mungos."
The group turned to look at her and she cleared her throat. "I'm Rose Weasley, and…"
"We know who you are," Caitriona snapped. Rose blushed and stared into her goblet of pumpkin juice. They were looking at the boy next to her.
"Scorpius Malfoy."
No explanation about parentage, no boasting about parents' ranks and jobs. The group talked about that for him.
"I thought we had the son of a Death Eater at our table - what a disgrace," Tybalt taunted.
"Careful now," Milo intervened with a debonair smile. "Don't forget my grandfather was a Death Eater too. That's a detail you all might want to remember when we're all sound asleep in the same dorm tonight."
She watched as Scorpius smiled at Milo and lifted a questioning eyebrow to the Slytherin table. She gulped. She didn't know what a Death Eater was, but it didn't sound good. She bet it had something to do with the war her parents were involved in… another convenient detail they left out.
After the feast, she followed the head Slytherin prefects down spiral stairs into the depths of the Hogwarts dungeons. She felt the tears begging to break free of her eyes again as descriptions of the floating stairs to the Gryffindor tower flooded into her mind. The dungeons were dark, flickering shadows bouncing off of the walls and statues. The group stopped in front of a stone wall, between the statue of a monk screaming and a series of nails on the wall.
Milo leaned in close to her and whispered, "those are to hang naughty students by their toenails."
He wiggled his eyebrows. She felt her dinner coming back up.
"To enter you will need the password. This may change at random, so make sure to check in with Silas," the prefect gestured to the screaming monk statue, "otherwise you may run into the wall. Password today is 'heritage'."
She watched as the stones curved in on each other and opened into a large stone room with black marble bookshelves, tables, and sleek leather couches and chairs. At the center of it all was a massive floor-to-ceiling window looking out into the murky lake, silver fish swimming by in greeting. The center of the ceiling also had a large window opening to the loch, letting silver-green light spin across the common room. She felt her breath give out at the architectural ingenuity and beauty of it.
Accessing the Slytherin girls' dorm room required walking through a glass tunnel with 360-degree underwater loch views. She was led into a long chamber with serpentine walls and circular windows, four canopied beds placed between each twist in the wall to allow for some privacy. Rose was given the bed at the very end. The other wall was lined with multiple chairs, wardrobes, and two fireplaces. She couldn't wait to tell Albus about this place! He loved to swim.
Albus. And James. Now she really was ready to cry. But she couldn't in here. Not with all these girls constantly watching her.
Without waiting for permission, she walked right back through the aquarium-like common room and into the dungeon. She looked at the nails on the wall and the statue of the screaming monk watching her. This wasn't anymore private. She walked down the hall further, finding a dark corner with a statue of a woman on her knees, hands to her heart, weeping. That felt appropriate. She knelt behind the base of the statue and heaved into her hands.
She awoke to the sound of quick footsteps echoing off the walls and groaned. She'd be breaking the rules, out of her dormitory at Merlin-knowns what hour of the night. On her first night nonetheless! Would she be expelled? Her heart raced and she retreated into the shadows further, poking her head out just enough to glimpse what teacher might catch her.
She gasped, "Teddy!"
A boy with brown hair streaked in blue, wearing Gryffindor-red robes jumped. The sound of shattering glass colliding against stone met her ears as the boy growled, "who's there?"
"It's me," Rose stepped into the light.
She watched as Teddy's face flickered with fright, shock, relief, and maybe even a touch of anger.
"Rose, what are you doing out of bed so late?" he took her hands in his, carefully avoiding a puddle of something sizzling on the ground.
"Crying," she whispered. "I could ask the same of you?"
"Nothing you need to know about," Teddy winked at her.
"Is that a potion?" She looked at the substance on the ground, it was sending off little sparks now.
"It's nothing," Teddy panicked, sending a spell towards the potion that seemed to calm it, then it dissipated.
Rose gave him her best impersonation of her mother's stare down. He gulped.
"Look, if I promise to explain all this to you, you have to swear not to tell a soul. Even Albus. Or your parents. Especially not your parents."
He was fidgeting, glancing over his shoulder, "Look, I think I'm being followed… If I get caught."
"Got it," Rose sighed.
She just wanted to be around a friend. Family.
"Meet me tomorrow after dinner, right back here."
She nodded. Could she wait that long? Teddy turned to walk away, but two seconds later she found herself in his arms, getting a tight hug. She let herself whimper, some of the fear finally flowing out of her body.
"Rose, my grandmother is a Slytherin. She's was one of the bravest and most incredible women ever. You'll be the same."
Andromeda? She'd only met her a handful of times. She never realized the kind but distant woman was a Slytherin. She'd raised Teddy singlehandedly.
Teddy ran down the hall, keeping to the shadows. Somehow, she felt more like herself again as warmth spread back through her veins. That meant not going back to bed quite yet.