~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 carrying around a trunk.
He allowed his eyes to catch a glimpse of the grandfather clock standing in the corner of the room.
10:15. I suppose it's time.
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. Shortly after, 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 really felt like he'd only been here a couple days.
That was a good thing though, he supposed.
At Privet Drive, summer holidays had always been associated with monotony and boredom for him - they used to be an inevitable period of suffering that, at times, seemed to stretch on forever.
That certainly wasn't the case around here.
He would have even liked to stay a bit longer, but unfortunately the Hogwarts Express' would not wait for him. A smile on his face, he made his way 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 small grin.
'Morning, Tom,' he greeted.
The man glanced at the bag hanging off Harry's side. 'Leaving for Hogwarts then, I assume?' he asked with a chuckle.
Harry allowed the skeleton key to fall onto the counter. 'I am,' he nodded.' But count me back for next summer.'
Tom grinned. 'I'll have a room ready for you the moment you get off the train, Harry. With a discount, of course,' he winked.
'Thanks, Tom,' Harry smiled.
The barkeep waved him off. 'Not for tha', Harry. T'was good havin' 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 felt his lips thin.
'I'll see you around,' 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 friendly nod. 'Thanks, Tom. I will.'
With that, the teenager vanished out the door. Harry briefly wrinkled his nose as he passed the toilets, and before he knew it, he was back in Downtown London.
With brisk steps, Harry moved towards the subway station of Charing Cross Road, hoping to beat the inevitable rush of crowds. It was a Wednesday morning, after all.
I'd like a compartment for myself if I can get one.
It would effectively eliminate the chance for him to make a friend, but in Harry's book that was a rather cheap price to pay. He had lived to learn without people, and though he knew that there were benefits to be found in forming friendships, he wasn't particularly keen to try.
In the past it had only ever resulted in disappointment, after all. That aside, he had 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 checked the sign on the subway closest to him.
Line Seven - Piccadilly. That's the one.
As expected, the ride to King's Cross was rather eventless. The stench of sweat, coffee, and cigarettes stung in his nose, but there was hardly anything he could do about it. 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 not protected by such wards would not be able to 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 glance up to the signs which hung from the ceiling were enough to show 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 terminal hall. He was at the far end of the station, he realised, increasing his pace.
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 stepped through.
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 eyes 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 to arrive.
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.
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 front and the flawlessly-polished, metallic surface glistened in the 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 he reached the end of the train.
'On we go…' he murmured.
With a large step, he boarded the Express. The inside looked quite similar to the other long-distance train he'd travelled on - with the Dursleys a few years ago. It had not been a pleasant ride - largely because of Dudley's whining and the fact that they had been visiting Aunt Marge.
Can't get much worse than that…
He glode 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.
There it is.
He pulled his copy of An Introductory Guide to the Art of Healing forth from inside his bag, and clipped the latches 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 books on Potions and Charms were the only scripts detailing anything concerning healing magics 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 understand the root of an affliction. Understanding the cause of an ailment was essential to effective and long-term treatment.
It was safe to say that with the seemingly endless 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. And what that meant had become awfully clear to him by now. He had to understand, study, and likely even learn to cast the very same curse that had caused his mother's condition.
The Cruciatus…
The thought hadn't made him ill, per say.
He'd obviously heard and read a couple 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 the 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. He hadn't even dared ask any vendors if they sold books giving deeper insight on the spell's origins and mechanics.
His only hope for now was that Hogwarts' library would have any leads for him - even though that was probably wishful thinking at best. The situation really could have been a lot better, all things considered…
Still - he wouldn't let difficulties stop him from reaching his goal. He'd made a promise to both himself and his mother, and he was intent on fulfilling it.
Leaning back into his seat, he opened the chapter on mending charms, only to be interrupted by a faint knock which resonated against the glass of his compartment.
Seems like I'll have some company after all…
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.
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.
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 nodded. 'Yes. Truthfully, I was a little afraid I wouldn't find any fellows on the train. I'm from Italy, you see, and as such most of my friends are attending Sacrovia. But Mother insisted that Hogwarts offered a better education,' he explained.
'Sacrovia is the premier magical institute in Italy, I assume?' Harry asked.
Blaise nodded again. 'Yes. They teach 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.'
'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. 'Yes, 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.'
'True,' 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 them. 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 Professor Flitwick over the summer, and he seemed rather competent. But to me everything sounds great really, except for Astronomy - and now history, I suppose.'
Blaise nodded in agreement. 'Flitwick was a European Duelling Champion. I heard he even organises a club for students,' he said, his forehead creasing ever so slightly. 'You said your name was Potter, yes? I've heard of your family. Why did the Professor have to escort you? Aren't you a pureblood?'
Harry's 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 levelly.
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 prefer not to speak about any time spent with my relatives. We never really got along. But I disgress; 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.
'I do. Haven't made an appointment to ratify my heirship though,' he answered.
It's not like it matters either. For now, at least.
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 seemed like a good option. He enjoyed learning the intricacies of magic and having Professor Flitwick as Head of House wasn't an unappealing thought either. It also seemed like 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 while getting sorted into the House of Snakes definitely promised some immediate drawbacks - pureblood bigotry on the forefront - he certainly embodied the traits the House prized itself on.
Ambition, cunning, determination, and cleverness. It certainly seemed to fit.
A bird or a snake? What will it be?
His eyes flickered downwards, where his wand lay concealed inside the hem of his robes. Feathered serpent indeed.
He had found that Occamys were quite interesting creatures.
Choranaptyxis allowed the creatures to shift their size depending on the circumstances they found themselves in. Fully grown specimens could change from the size of a rat to that of a large 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, a hint of humour lacing his voice.
Harry gave an apologetic smile. 'Sorry. I was lost in thought.' He paused for a moment. 'Slytherin or Ravenclaw, I think.'
Blaise nodded thoughtfully. 'Perhaps we'll see each other in Slytherin then,' he supposed.
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.'
The rest of the time was spent reading their respective books, and after a while, the head girl's voice had echoed across the train, announcing that they would soon arrive in Hogsmeade and recommending them to change into their school robes.
Fortunately, Harry already wore the proper attire beneath their long, black cloaks. A good thing, considering he didn't like the idea of exposing any of his scars to complete strangers one bit.
Although Blaise isn't a complete stranger anymore.
He had not 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 the loud screech of its brakes.
Blaise nodded. 'Best not be late.'
Swinging bags over their shoulders, they left the compartment. Not before long the two first years deboarded the train alongside a pool of strangers. A deep, booming voice caught their attention as they stepped foot onto the platform.
'Firs' years! Firs' years this way, please! C'mon now, don' be shy. Hurry up!'
Dim lantern light illuminated the station - just bright enough for Harry to make out the gigantic man wearing a thick, brown coat, with long, black, bushy hair and a scruffy, full beard who stood where platform and muddy path met a couple dozen yards away. Harry's forehead creased as he wiped some of the rain from his glasses.
That's one hell of a man…
'He probably has some giant blood,' Blaise commented. 'Let's go. We don't want to be left behind.'
They joined the crowd of what Harry supposed were the other first years, awaiting any further instruction.
'Right then,' the man declared in the same, booming voice as before. 'Hagrid's the name for all of ya'! C'mon and follow me. Tha' way to the boats! C'mon, ya' lot!'
The students, including Harry and Blaise, had a rather hard time keeping up with Hagrid's pace, but eventually they came to a stop as the wet path beneath their feet vanished, replaced by damp, overgrown planks of wood.
A pier.
The surface of the lake ahead was pitch-black and reflected some of the moonlight which shone from the brilliantly clear night sky.
'C'mon then, get in! But no more 'an four a boat!' Hagrid called across the small dock.
Harry steered towards the closest paddle 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 nodded his head. 'Harry Potter'
'Blaise Zabini.'
'Susan Bones.'
Their curt introductions came to an end, as Hagrid's voice rippled across the pier once more. Harry's eyes came to rest on the deep, dark waters of the lake.
'C'mon, follow me!'
On command, the paddles at either side of the boats started moving. Harry found himself leaning back into the seat of the boat, staring up into the dark, star-littered sky.
A nice view.
A few moments later, a large wave of Oohh's and Ahhh's interrupted his attempt at star-gazing. He looked down.
The silhouette of Hogwarts Castle had come forth from behind the hills, standing tall and majestic atop a cliff, its towers 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 settle 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 castle's hill. Above it, a narrow path snaked its way up to the shade of the school.
Hagrid ushered them out of their boats, excited whispers rippling through the air. A cold breeze brushed against Harry's face as they walked up the hill.
Eventually, the path opened into a large courtyard, a slim, older-looking woman with a tall, black witches-hat and green robes awaiting them where stone and mud met.
'The firs' years, Professor,' Hagrid said to her.
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. He briefly stopped to stare, before following the rest of his classmates and Professor McGonagall up a 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 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…
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 the other students. But before you take your seats, you will have to be sorted into your respective House,' she explained.
If there's someone who didn't know that beforehand, they're doomed anyway…
'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 cunning. While you are here, your house will serve as your effective family.'
She paused, pushing her elliptic, thinly-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. These 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 - even in the magical world - had inevitably resulted in failure.
A bird's nest, as Vernon liked to put it. His lips thinned 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 door and the first years moved to follow her. Harry and Blaise lined up at the very back. The sight that exposed itself to them drew amazed reactions from some of the students, but Harry kept up his facade of indifference.
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 sentence. Professor McGonagall raised her hand, signifying for them to come to a halt, and strode onwards, 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.
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 forward. She took a deep breath before striding up to the stool, where she sat down and Professor McGonagall allowed the oversized hat to fall over her head.
For a few seconds, silence enveloped the hall before the hat opened its… mouth.
'HUFFLEPUFF!' it shouted.
The table right to Harry's left burst into cheers, 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 towards the ceiling again. The only sorting result he vaguely cared about was Blaise's, but after all Zabini was unlikely to appear in the alphabet before Potter.
How much longer is this going to take…?
'LONGBOTTOM, NEVILLE!
Of course…
Whispers erupted, as the Boy-Who-Lived strode up to the stool and took a seat. Longbottom's eyes vanished behind crinkled leather and the hall became silent.
'GRYFFINDOR!' the hat proclaimed.
A bright smile appeared on Neville's face, as his new House erupted into cheers. Two ginger students threw their heads into the air and whistled loudly.
'LONG-BOT-TOM! LONG-BOT-TOM!' they chanted.
Harry felt his lip curl downwards. Soon enough it was his turn.
'POTTER, HARRY!'
Harry pushed through what remained of the crowd, and walked up to the stool. He noticed Professor Flitwick giving him a small smile from the teacher's table, and returned it in kind.
From the corner of his eye, he could also see a man in black robes with a hooked nose, and greasy, black hair sneer at him. Harry sat down and felt the leather drape over his head.
'Well, well, well. What do we have here? A Potter again,' the hat's voice reverberated inside his head. 'Where to then?' it asked.
Not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff.
'Not Gryffindor or Hufflepuff, huh?' the voice repeated. '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 didn't have any before and I did fine.
A laugh hummed through his skull. 'Never be foolish enough to believe you can conquer life on your own, Harry Potter, or you will one day be counted amongst the many wizards which fell victim to their own hubris.'
Harry didn't respond.
'But it really is between Rowena and Salazar, hmm?' it rumbled. 'The Lady Ravenclaw would have been honoured to have you. A mind the likes of which only walks these halls every few decades… and already so very proficient at magic. But is that everything?'
The hat paused, the low whisper of the students 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 want?'
Harry didn't need to respond.
'Of course it is. I will watch your story unfold with interest, Harry Potter. A good time in… SLYTHERIN!'
He could tell the last word had been shouted aloud. The applause from the Slytherin table was reserved, but Harry didn't let that irritate him. With the same indifference as before, he jumped off the stool and moved towards the table. 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 settled upon the hook-nosed man that had sneered at him earlier. The upturned nose still remained on his face, though there was something swimming in the 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 remaining sortings, until Blaise's name was called forward. After about fifteen seconds below the hat, 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 sat down by his side.
'So we did see each other in Slytherin, after all,' the Italian boy said.
'We did,' Harry agreed with a faint smile.
A high pitched, metallic sound drew 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.
'You took quite long. Anything happened to the hat?' the same girl from earlier - Davis - asked.
He shrugged. 'It was indecisive,' he answered simply.
'You should be honoured, you know?' 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.
'Really?' Harry asked dryly. 'Count me honoured then.'
Blaise let out a quiet snort to his left.
'You should recognise your superiors when you see them, Potter!' the boy sneered. 'Half-bloods have to earn their place in our prestigious House.'
Harry turned away and picked up a piece of chicken with his fork. 'Whatever you say,' he murmured.
Harry didn't feel the need to partake in any ensuing 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 selection of 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.
'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 previously disinterested expression turned into a frown. The man couldn't be serious, could he? He looked up at the headmaster, but there was no twinkle in his eyes, or smile on his face. Dumbledore seemed to be dead-serious.
'And with that, off to bed with all of you.'
Harry joined his new class-mates as they got up from the benches and moved towards the two prefects waiting at the end of the hall - a blonde, blue-eyed girl with a ponytail, and a thin-nosed boy with brown hair.
'I'm Gemma Fawley,' the former introduced herself. 'Fifth year prefect. If you have any issues, you are welcome to approach us during your stay at Hogwarts. For now, I would suggest you follow us. We will show you the way 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 returned the gesture, before leading them out of the hall.
'Our Common Room is located in the Dungeons,' she explained 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.'
They rounded a corner.
'Tomorrow morning we will escort you back to the Great Hall, where breakfast is served between seven and nine o' clock. 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 warning look.
They came to a halt in front of a dark wall on the far end of a gloomy corridor. A tall bow materialised out of nothing. The portrait of a three-headed snake formed in the space below.
An 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 ahead of them 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 portrait hole they had come through.
Green, gloomy light shone through a massive glass front at the other side of the common room, streams of water flowing right past the window.
We're under the lake, Harry realised.
'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 stay here. 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 asked.
'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 receive 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 dismissed 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,' He glanced at the two meaty boys by Malfoy's side. 'To direct you here.'
He paused.
'The first thing you should know is that - due to many circumstances - Slytherins are not as readily welcomed as members of the other Houses. At times…' He paused. That will be made awfully clear.'
'I shall do my best to rectify any 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.'
'As Slytherins we 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 will 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 will take place in the next few weeks. If you wish to try out for the team, speak to Marcus Flint. He is the sixth year prefect and Quidditch Captain. I will hand out your schedules tomorrow morning at breakfast. Any questions?'
There were none.
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.
Edited: 17.09.2023