Harry relaxed incrementally, as the appearance of a mind-boggling amount of food distracted the majority of the student body from Harry's apparently unexpected presence at the Slytherin table.
The older Slytherin students were still looking at him speculatively, some with mere curiosity, and others with hostile-edged distrust, but when Marcus Flint and Cassius Warrington loudly vouched for him, the glares largely abated. Soon the quidditch players were being peppered with questions, and Harry was happy to let them take as much attention off of him as they could manage.
Draco passed the roasted potatoes to Harry, eyeing a ghost who had introduced himself as some sort of Baron warily, and said, "I can't believe we both made it! This year is going to be so much fun!"
"How'd you get to know Potter, anyways?" a boy with dark skin and an Italian accent asked. Harry pretended to need all of his focus to slice his roast beef into uniform pieces, so he wouldn't have to see his fellow first year dormmates staring. Hopefully, they'd all get used to him, soon.
"Zabini, right?" Draco asked. "I met him in Diagon while school shopping, didn't I? I was so awesome, Potter could not help but come over and introduce himself, right Harry?"
"If by awesome, you mean spoiled rotten and awkward…" Harry teased, ducking as Draco tried to steal the glasses off of his face.
"Oh good," Pansy said, stabbing at a pork chop with her knife, "you aren't completely blind. I was worried about you, Potter."
"I'm not spoiled!" Draco said indignantly, glaring at Pansy over Harry's shoulder.
Vincent, one of the two large boys sitting opposite of Harry snorted loudly, and Theo, the reedy boy next to them, was shaking his head in bewilderment.
"What?" Draco asked. "I'm not!"
"Whatever you say, Mr. My-Father-Will-Hear-About-This," Pansy said.
Harry watched in amusement as Draco's pale skin turned red.
"Whatever. Not like any of you lot are better."
Draco was spoiled. Harry had pieced together enough evidence of that from Draco's letters over the summer, but unlike his cousin Dudley, Harry had never seen Draco wield his spoiled status as a weapon against anyone else. That made all of the difference, as far as Harry was concerned.
After all, Draco had used his leverage with his parents to make sure Harry got loads of wicked presents for his birthday. He hadn't thrown a fit that Harry had gotten presents when he hadn't. He hadn't tried to get anyone to take Harry's presents away, or whined until his parents got him something even better for himself.
If most of the Slytherins knew Draco from their parents' social and political gatherings, Harry was probably surrounded by the spoiled children of the rich and powerful elite. As long as they were nice to him, and didn't mock him for lacking doting parents of his own, Harry didn't mind.
He supposed that if his parents had never died, Harry himself might very well be spoiled, too, and he liked to think that if that were the case, he would still be nothing like Dudley.
"Is everyone excited about starting classes tomorrow?" he asked.
Zabini and a girl with dirty blonde hair – Harry was pretty sure Draco had introduced her as Greengrass – nodded emphatically, while everyone else, besides Draco, who was still too busy sulking, looked uncertain.
"It's a bit daunting, isn't it?" Theo said with a frown.
"Oh, come off it, Nott," Pansy said with a huff. "You learn stuff faster than anyone else here."
"Yeah, but what if that's the problem?" Theo insisted. "What if magic doesn't come as naturally to me as everything else does? I don't know how to force myself to learn things that don't come naturally. I'll be the laughing stock of Slytherin!"
"You Poor Baby," Pansy said. "Merlin forbid, you actually have to pick up a book and study for once in your life."
"Harry could teach you to study," Draco said, his pride apparently salved for the moment. "He's a madman at it."
Theo raised his eyebrows. "Yeah? Wouldn't have figured the fabled Boy-Who-Lived as a bookslug."
"I'm not!" Harry insisted. "Draco's just upset that my studying over the summer inspired his father to make him study, too. I had a lot of catching up to do."
"You're a Teacher's Pet, and you know it."
"I'm a lot of things that people don't realise, yet," Harry said airily. "S'why I'm in Slytherin, after all. I have a lot to prove, with that stupid nickname hanging over my head."
"Ooh," Pansy said, poking Harry's shoulder, "You're an overachieving bookslug. Even better! You can help me with my homework, whenever I threaten to damage Slytherin's reputation with my tragic lack-of-caring. Would hate to reflect badly on you, after all."
Harry rolled his eyes.
"What subject do you think you'll do best at, Potter?" Zabini asked, a competitive gleam in his eye.
"Potions," Draco answered, before Harry could even open his mouth.
"I heard potions is tricky," the girl sitting on the other side of Draco said.
"It is when the Potions Master isn't your Head of House, Davis," Draco retorted. "Snape won't let any of us fall behind."
"I heard he's mean," the other large boy, who Harry figured must be Gregory Goyle, said sullenly.
"You'll do fine, Greg," Draco said, with a sympathetic frown. "Harry and I will help you. You'll see."
Vincent cracked his knuckles. "School is stupid, anyways."
"Aww, don't say that," Pansy crooned. "Just look at all of the Gryffindors you can start fights with. You'll love it here, in no time."
"This isn't like tutoring, Vince," Greengrass added. "Learning magic will be more fun than just reading and doing figures."
Vincent grunted, dismissively, although Harry did catch him eyeing the Gryffindor table with a yearning gleam in his eye. He wasn't entirely sure what to make of that.
The uneaten food faded from the tables, to be replaced with a ridiculous number of desserts.
"Dear Merlin, this school is going to make me fat," Pansy murmured, grabbing a large chocolate éclair.
"Just because it's there, doesn't mean you have to eat it, Parkinson," Zabini said in exasperation.
Pansy sniffed. "Mother says 'only a fool spurns a house-elf's hospitality'."
Vincent and Gregory took that as a cue to fill their plates with sugary food, and Harry regretted eating so much of the main course, settling for the smallest treacle tart he could find. He wondered idly if Lofty had had a hand in preparing these confectionary delights. Professor Snape had said the creature worked in the kitchens here, after all.
Draco, who had opted for a heaping mound of fudge-laden ice-cream, was beginning to bounce in his seat, as he regaled the table with a play-by-play of the latest pro quidditch match that his father had taken him to, complete with increasingly elaborate arm movements and sound effects. Soon, all of the first years were laughing along with his antics, Harry doubling over as his stomach ached at the force of his mirth. It was nice, having a friend who both liked having the attention, and knew how to take it off of Harry, without isolating him in the process.
"Almost finished eating, Firsties?" Gemma Farley asked, walking over, with her prefect badge catching the light. "Announcements should be soon, and then we'll head to the dorms."
She sat down next to Pansy, and snagged a doughnut.
"When will we get our class schedules?" Harry asked her.
"Tomorrow morning, so don't be late for breakfast, any of you. Your actions reflect on all of us, now."
The first years nodded, gravely. None of them wanted to be responsible for making Slytherin look bad. Harry hoped he'd be able to get some sleep tonight. He was getting sleepy, but still had an undercurrent of anxious, excited energy, bolstered by a small sugar rush.
A sudden lance of pain pierced Harry's skull, making him gasp, and press the heel of his hand to the scar on his forehead. He looked up, to see Professor Snape giving him a concerned look. Harry shrugged helplessly. The professor pursed his lips, but allowed his attention to be diverted to the turbaned professor sitting next to him.
"Are you okay?" Draco asked, radiating alarm.
"Yeah, I'm fine," Harry whispered, lowering his shaking hands to his lap. "Got a bit of a headache, is all."
"Here, drink some water," Pansy said, handing him a glass.
Harry took it gratefully.
"You sure you're okay?" Theo asked. "You're all pale."
"I'm fine," Harry repeated. "I'm just dehydrated, and I didn't get much sleep last night. It's nothing."
Headmaster Dumbledore gathered everyone's attention and stood. He listed off the announcements, causing ripples of whispers to flood the great hall, when he proclaimed there to be potential deathtraps both inside and outside the castle.
Harry made a mental note to avoid the third floor at all costs. He was surprised that anyone needed to be told not to wander off into a wild magical forest, but then again, a lot of the shows Dudley watched on the telly featured teenagers sneaking off into dangerous situations for incomprehensible reasons. Maybe there was more truth and less pointless drama to the programs than Harry had assumed.
"Alright, First Years, follow me," Farley said, herding Harry and the others with a wave of her arms, before taking the lead, and guiding them to the Slytherin dorms.
Harry stuck close to Draco as they navigated the dungeon's halls, and Pansy, seeming to take their dinner seating as a permanent arrangement, linked arms with Harry on his other side, whispering anecdotes and jokes about their fellow dormmates, as Harry endeavored to keep a straight face.
If the annoyed look Draco shot him after he suppressed a snort of laughter in response to Pansy's tale of Draco's unfortunate encounter with his family's crazy house elf and a punch bowl during last year's Malfoy Yule Gala was anything to go by, they weren't fooling anyone.
Harry had a sneaking suspicion that he had just made a second friend, and some horribly, underlying tension that he hadn't recognized before eased in his chest.