Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, Dungeons and Dragons or a cat.
After the Feast, the Slytherins were led by a Prefect to their common room, which was in a dungeon with no dragons. Harry was particularly disappointed to note that the dungeon barely had any of the typical dungeon traits, but was nevertheless satisfied that there were ample corners to hide behind and some amount of cover was present.
They stopped before the entrance, and one of the Prefects uttered something in French. A sculpted snake hissed something sounding vaguely like "Go away, I want to sleep" and they all entered the room.
"Based view." Harry said, pointing at the window.
"Indeed." Hermione agreed.
"Meow." Floppa meowed.
Just then, the door to the common room opened again and in marched a cheap Nosferatu cosplayer with an ugly nose and major ex-supercommando vibes that nobody managed to notice.
"Welcome to Slytherin House, students." he said, looking at the group from left to right and right to left again. "You have been placed in the best House in Hogwarts, and as such you will excel in your classes. Is that understood?"
Harry would rather LibreOffice Calc in his classes, but he nodded anyway.
"You will be disliked by the rest of the school, no doubt." Snape continued. "We have a rather poor reputation ever since the days of your ancestors. Whatever quarrels you have amongst yourselves must remain in the Common Room. Outside, you will display a united front. There must be no cracks in your armor."
His gaze lingered on Harry for a moment.
"Do not think that your celebrity status means anything to me, Potter." he said. "I will hold you to the same standards as everybody else."
There was a long period of silence. Then, finally, Harry spoke.
"Understood, sir." he said.
Snape sneered, but made no further comments. He exited the room, leaving the students alone.
The first thing the trio did was secure the best rooms. The other Houses shared a single dormitory for all the boys and another for all the girls, but Slytherin just had to be better and gave everybody their own place to sleep.
"What do ya think, Floppa?" Marc asked, looking around his massive green room with a green floor, green ceiling, green walls and a green bed. Oh, and furniture that wasn't green.
"Meow." Floppa voiced his approval before flopping on the bed.
"Yeah." Marc said. "Just don't take the whole thing. I need to sleep too."
Floppa looked at Marc in disbelief.
"We need a plan to take revenge against the binguses." Marc said. "Dumbledore will pay for that crime."
The first lesson the Slytherins had was Transfiguration. It didn't take a genius to figure out that turning things into other things was almost certainly stupidly broken as a concept, so the trio resolved to focus extra-hard so they could do the funny true poly memes.
McGonagall read out their names one by one, and Harry was pleased to note she did not go batshit crazy upon reading his name but merely smiled.
The first lesson bored half the class, with only the Slytherinchads interested in what was happening. They noted every sentence, memorized every rule and paid as much attention as was physically possible. At the end of the class, they were tasked with turning a matchstick into a needle.
Harry immediately pointed his wand at the object and uttered the incantation, pouring his will into the spell. At once, it transformed into a sharp needle.
"Ten points to Slytherin, Mr. Potter." McGonagall commented.
Meanwhile Hermione had decided needles were boring and turned her matchstick into a bullet.
"Based." Harry and Marc said simultaneously.
The lesson ended with Slytherin earning thirty points for excellent spellwork, losing ten for shooting Muggle firearms in the classroom and Floppa stealing a first-year Gryffindor's quill.
Potions Classroom
Harry wasn't sure what to expect of Snape after their brief meeting on September 1st, but when Potions class was scheduled to begin his disappointment began to rise.
One minute. The classroom door, covered in moss and sludge, was still shut and there was no teacher in the room. Marc pulled out his wand and started to point it at random objects, calling out the Latin names of random spiders.
Two minutes. The door remained sealed as ever, and staring at the cheap scary plastic bones in jars of fake acid(anyone who actually bothered to read the rules – I mean, the 7th-year Potions textbook – would notice the hoax) was getting boring. Hermione kept staring anxiously at the door, Marc was trying to get his wand to meow and Harry was reading his Transfiguration textbook.
Three minutes. This was already pathetic. Hermione was starting to feel like she was wasting her time on anxiety, Marc had abandoned all hopes of making his wand meow through magic and was now attempting ventriloquism and Harry was still reading his Transfiguration textbook.
Three minutes fifty-nine seconds…
The door unceremoniously flew open and in marched the cheap Nosferatu cosplayer who also happened to be their Head of House. His long black cape billowed behind him, a true nightmare for anyone trying to move carefully in a room full of potentially harmful liquids.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this classroom." he announced.
Harry quickly noted Only based wand-waving and serious incantations allowed in his notebook.
"You are here to learn the subtle art and science of-"
"MEOW!" Snape's speech was interrupted by the sudden noise ringing out from Marc's wand.
"Idiot!" Snape hissed, looking across the classroom. "Twenty points from..."
He paused, noticing the Slytherin crest on Marc's robes.
"…Gryffindor." he finished after a moment of thought.
"That's not fair!" Ron complained from the back of the room. "He's a Slytherin!"
"Make that thirty." Snape replied.
If the class thought a normal Snape was bad news, an irritated one was even worse.
"Potter!" he barked. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to infusion of wormwood?"
"A failing grade in sixth-year Potions as your Draught of Living Death would be missing the sopophorous beans." Harry replied calmly.
"Name twelve uses of the Draught of Living Death." Snape demanded.
"Making people fall asleep for the fun of it, making people fall asleep to keep them unconscious for medical purposes, dispersing it in the air to incapacitate trash mobs-"
"Incorrect." Snape snorted. "Had you opened a book before coming here, you would know that the Draught of Living Death is no longer used in combat due to its inefficiency compared to the number of spells you could cast during that time."
There a few snickers in various locations, and numerous pairs of eyes were now focused on Harry.
"If he wants to flex on me, I'll stand my ground." he thought.
"Perhaps the great Harry Potter is not as brilliant as we all thought our celebrity would be." the professor drawled. "How… disappointing."
He was just about to move on with the lesson when Harry spoke up again, this time in a much colder voice normally reserved for berating math deniers.
"Sir", Harry countered, "I consider it insulting that you judge my skills based on the opinions of idiots that are now being wielded as an answer key."
The Potions Master raised one eyebrow. Annoyance momentarily gave way to curiosity, then returned again.
"Ah, remarkable." he sneered. "You believe you know better than five great potioneers and duelists?"
"If any of them were correct, one would be sufficient evidence and you would not need to appeal to authority to prove them right, sir." Harry shrugged. "In any case, they are forgetting the obvious – wizards aren't limited to fighting with their own two hands. I have an owl familiar – she could quite easily disperse such vapors, and since she's not a witch herself the opportunity cost of giving her things to throw is near zero."
"Oh, of course!" Snape snorted. "I forgot familiars were an invincible force of nature that wouldn't get taken down by a single Stunner!"
"In which case the idiot who took the time to take out my owl has now opened up his defenses to my own attack." Harry responded. "Ergo, I win."
"Naturally, all opponents are slower than you in your ideal scenario." the professor replied. "And will never simply hit both you and your owl."
"With all due respect, sir, if I was fighting a wizard that much better than me I would not rely on a single familiar." Harry countered. "The Snake-Conjuring Spell provides much-needed utility and can be precast before combat. Avis can obscure my foe's vision to give my owl a clear shot. Monkeys aren't people so it's legal to give them Muggle firearms and use the Imp-"
"Cease this gibberish!" Snape barked. "Ten points from Slytherin!"
There was now absolute silence in the classroom. Snape had taken points from his own House?
"Concession accepted." Harry smirked.
"MEOW!" Marc's wand meowed again.
"Silence!" Snape shouted. His face was taking on a rather peculiar shade of red.
They spent the rest of the lesson attempting to brew a Boil Cure. Snape had them perform the task in pairs, to which the trio responded with a simple equation:
a + b = c
2a + 2b =a + b + c
2a + 2b – 2c = a + b -c
2(a+b-c) = 1(a+b-c)
2=1
3=2
Unwilling to admit he could not find the error in their calculations, Snape relented and let the three work together.
"The instructions on the board are pepega." Marc scoffed. "Seriously, there are five mistakes in the first section."
"And that is why you don't reference a guide, but the actual PHB." Hermione muttered disinterestedly, stirring the cauldron while looking at her Potions textbook.
"Just imagine… we could be brewing Fanter." Harry sighed.
His two best friends immediately stared at him wide-eyed, as though they'd seen a war crime.
"Harry, can you imagine the sheer level of insanity caused by the entire Gryffindor and Slytherin class brewing Fanter?" Marc asked. "We are talking about a drink that literally turns the drinker into a hyper-energetic engine of mass destruction capable of utterly obliterating every casual ever at board games."
"True." Harry replied.
Somewhere not far away, three cauldrons exploded in quick succession.
"Gryffindor moment." Draco muttered.
Defense Classroom
After the thoroughly useless mental shutdown that was Potions, the first-year Slytherins made their way to the Defense classroom, where they were scheduled to have that most intriguing of subjects together with the Ravenclaws.
Harry had been most disappointed to find out the Defense textbook was borderline useless except as an improvised shield and wondered what the purpose of half the information contained within even was.
The trio sat down next to one another at the front of the classroom, already armed with half a dozen questions they wanted to ask. Most importantly, they sought to learn how combat actually worked in this magic system.
Ten seconds after the lesson was scheduled to begin, Professor Quirrell strode into the classroom.
"G-good evening, ladies and gentlemen." he stuttered. "T-today's subject is… vampires."
Harry's face broke into a wide grin.
"N-now, w-who can tell me the name of any famous v-vampire?" the Professor asked.
And right away, Harry raised his hand.
"Morbius, sir." he replied. "The Crawling Terror. The Plafond Pupil. Xerxes II, Xerxes III, Xerxes IV and Xerxes V."
The class was looking at him strangely. Nobody besides his two friends had ever heard any of those names – unsurprising given that Morbius became a funny meme minus thirty-three years ago and the other vampires were D&D builds.
Before Quirrell could react, Marc raised his hand too.
"Queen Neferata and Mannfred von Carstein." he added.
Hermione muttered something about not knowing Warhammer Fantasy lore and raised her hand too.
"Strahd von Zarovich." she added. "Doru, Anastrasya, Ludmilla, Volenta, the six spawn in the coffin maker's shop in Vallaki."
"W-well..." Quirrell struggled to come up with a response – he had not specified the vampires couldn't be fictional. "One m-morbillion points to Slytherin."
Later that day, Dumbledore was forced to replace the hourglass containing Slytherin's points as it kept phasing in and out of existence, unable to determine how much a morbillion was.