Chapter 8: Coronation
Harry had found an empty compartment to sit in and watched the scenery outside the window roll by. Green field, hills, and distant villages.
How satisfied he'd been when he'd first ridden on this train. Tom Riddle had finally found the place where he belonged. No longer did he have to put up with those beneath him.
He felt satisfied once more, thought for a different reason: he was going to his horcrux. Soon, the Diadem would be in his hands. Then, there would only be the cup… and Iris.
He'd put a charm on the door to prevent anyone from disturbing him. The train ride was pleasant, the scenery outside beautiful. Harry actually found himself enjoying the experience, and was somewhat disappointed when they finally reached Hogwarts.
After he'd changed into his school robes and dismounted the train, Harry had a moment of surprise. Outside the train, being swarmed by first-years and looking like a man standing in a barn full of sheep, was a half-giant.
Hagrid was still at Hogwarts.
He was much older now, and sporting a beard, but it was him. Dumbledore, Harry thought disdainfully.
"Firs' years!" he called, holding up a lantern. "Firs' years, come 'ere!"
First years streamed towards him like ants heading to their colony. Harry joined them.
The process to get to the castle was still the same. The first years went on boats, and everyone else rode thestral carriages. Harry looked over his shoulder, and could see those thestrals tied at the front of carriages. He'd been able to see them since the first time he came to Hogwarts.
The first years followed Hagrid through a narrow path and eventually reached the shore, where dozens of boats awaited. And ahead, standing on a mountain, was Hogwarts Castle.
It shone in the evening, looking as majestic as ever. A smile broke out on Harry's face. The first years let out a chorus of "Oooh!".
They all climbed onto boats in groups of four. Harry found himself in the company of two chattering boys and a wide-eyed girl. As the boats sailed out, he looked at the glassy surface of the black lake, and took a deep breath of fresh air. Deep below the surface was the squid, and somewhere beyond, the Slytherin common room. He would be there soon, if things went as intended.
They went into a tunnel beneath the mountain, and reached an underground harbor where the first years disembarked. A short walk later, and they had climbed up to the castle; they went up a flight of stone stairs and came upon a huge set of wooden doors. Harry knew this as a side entrance that was rarely used outside of bringing first years and students returning from Hogsmeade in.
The air was thick with anticipation. The first years were quiet, nervous. Harry found himself feeling out of place. He was also excited, however—excited that he had reached where he had, and without anyone the wiser.
Hagrid pounded upon the doors three times, and they opened to reveal a tall, black-haired witch. Harry had a sense of déjà vu. It was McGonagall, of course; Minerva McGonagall. Another old friend. She had aged, but otherwise seemed to be in good health.
I could change that, Harry thought.
"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said.
"Thank you, Hagrid. All of you, come with me," McGonagall said, and gestured them in. The first years went inside, leaving Hagrid behind.
The woman was telling them to assemble in lines when the screaming started. Harry looked up with disinterest, and saw a group of ghosts stream out of the walls. He recognized all of them, and they brought back memories he rarely thought of.
The ghosts began to introduce themselves. It was a waste of time Harry was not accustomed to, but McGonagall quickly dismissed the ghosts with a sharp voice, for which he was grateful. She took them through the halls and the double doors that led to the Great Hall.
It was exactly as he remembered, both the hall and the experience of coming here as a first year. The ceiling was high, and showed the night sky outside. Hundreds of students looked at them from the House tables. Harry looked at the Slytherin table, and saw that it was still organized in that pseudo-factional way, far more than any other table.
They stopped at the front, just before the staff table. A lot of the professors he did not recognize, but two stuck out. At the far right was Severus.
Severus, wonderful old Severus. He still had that hooked nose, and wore his hair long down the sides of his face. His old follower had not noticed him yet, and rubbed his chin as he scanned the crowd.
Harry couldn't help but smirk. He knew Snape's history with James Potter, and his late wife. That was the reason the man had run away to Dumbledore at the last second; Snape had realized that by telling Voldemort the prophecy, he'd put the Potters directly into the Dark Lord's line of sight. Of course, it hadn't mattered in the end, because Harry had done something no one could have ever predicted.
Severus, Harry thought, of all Slytherins, you are the most like a snake. But I can charm snakes, whether they like it or not.
The other person that stood out to him was Dumbledore, dressed in his blue moon robes and wizard's hat. Harry felt remarkably empty upon seeing him, like a bored child watching a lion at the zoo.
McGonagall waved her wand, and a stool hovered down before them. The Sorting Hat followed soon after, floating through the air and setting itself on the stool. It was still as worn as he'd last seen it.
It opened its mouth, and began to sing.
Merlin help me, Harry thought. He suffered through it, and clapped unenthusiastically when it finished.
McGonagall brought out a roll of parchment, and uncurled it. The entire hall went silent, and Harry forgot the god awful song he'd just heard.
The sorting finally began. One by one, the first years from their group were called out, and after being sorted they went to their respective tables amid applause.
"Bell, Katie!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
"Chang, Cho!"
"RAVENCLAW!"
"Davis, Tracey!"
"SLYTHERIN!"
As more and more students went, the crowd thinned, and Harry became more noticeable. Severus's eyes surveyed over the first years, and then landed upon him.
The man's eyes widened just slightly. He went incredibly still, like a statue. His hand hung in the air just below his chin and shook.
"Greengrass, Daphne!"
Harry raised his eyebrows. That was one of the families in the Sacred Twenty-Eight. The blonde girl that went up was promptly sorted into Slytherin.
"McLaggen, Cormac!"
The hat paused for a while atop that boy's head. Then, it declared, "GRYFFINDOR!"
By now, Severus had turned away from Harry, his nose wrinkled. His hand was set in a fist on the table.
McGonagall had reached the P's now. She paused for an imperceptible moment, then called, "Potter, Harry!"
The entire hall went silent. Severus began glaring at him again. Harry strode out of the crowd, towards the stool.
"Harry Potter? Did she say Harry Potter?"
"Is he related to Iris Potter?"
"She had a brother, I remember now!"
Harry reached the stool and turned around, sitting down on it. Every one of the students was watching him like a hawk, as if he were a famous painting in an exhibit.
McGonagall set the Sorting Hat down on his head. Harry's vision was cut off as the brim came over his eyes.
What in Merlin's name?! the Sorting Hat shrieked in his mind.
Harry fought back an urge to smile.
Who are you?!
You know who I am, Harry thought back.
There was a pause. Eventually, the hat spoke again, its voice a harrowed whisper.
Tom Riddle? What have you done? My god, what have you done?
Sort me, Harry said to it.
The hat laughed in his mind. 'Sort you'. What do you think this is, a game? Tom Riddle, you have killed a child. You wear his body like a costume. I can see all the other horrors you have committed…
I am a student, hat. You are obligated to sort me. No more, no less. So do it.
Founders help me, the hat spoke. What have I unleashed upon the world?
Nothing that wouldn't have been unleashed by itself sooner or later, Harry said. Before you sort me, hat, there's another matter.
I have a sister coming here next year. Iris. If you do not put her in the same house as me, this is what I will do.
The hat listened to him in horror.
"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat roared.
All whispers ceased. The Great Hall went so quiet that Harry could hear himself breathing. McGonagall seemed to be shocked as well, as the hat stayed on his head for a moment, but she quickly took it off. The brightness of the hall assaulted Harry's eyes. When he adjusted to the light, he saw all the students.
The older Gryffindors were looking in open horror. Some of them had their mouths turned in disgust. Most other students had raised eyebrows, some all the way to their hairline. The Slytherins' mouths were hanging open.
Harry got off the stool and walked over to the Slytherin table, farthest on his right. As he neared, an older Slytherin boy with a prefect badge abruptly began clapping. The rest of the table quickly joined in.
The Hufflepuffs and the staff table started clapping too, followed by the Ravenclaws. The Gryffindors clapped last. Their applause was shocked and subdued.
Harry went to the far end of the table, where the other young students were. He sat down in an empty spot. Everyone around him watching him like he was a creature from myth. And he supposed that in a way, he was.
McGonagall called the next name, and the Sorting continued. The hall's attention focused back on the front, but many people kept glancing over at him.
Harry looked at the staff table. Severus was staring at him with a revolted frown, like he'd just stepped into a pile of horse dung. Harry's eyes drifted over to the head of the table, where Dumbledore sat. The headmaster was not looking at him. He watched the next sorting with a serene smile, fingers laced on the table.
Harry scanned the other teachers, and wondered with amusement which of them had been unfortunate enough to take the Defense Against The Dark Arts position.
When the sorting finished, Dumbledore got up and spouted some nonsense words, much to the amusement of the students. Harry did not understand, nor did he try to. The old man then sat down, and the feast began.
As Harry ate, students leaned in around him and asked in amazed whispers whether he was Iris Potter's brother. Harry smiled and said he was. At one point, the prefect who had clapped for him came over. He was a tall boy with brown hair.
"Hello, Harry. I'm Charles Piles, one of Slytherin's prefects. Tell me, is it true you're the Girl-Who-Lived's brother?"
Harry put on the face of a wide-eyed first year and nodded. "I am," he said.
Charles clapped him on the shoulder. He went back to the front of the table, sitting back down with his group, speaking and gesturing towards Harry.
Harry went back to his food. House politics never change, he thought fondly.
After the feast was over, Dumbledore rose again, and gave his usual notices—except for one that stood out.
"Finally, I must tell you all that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to anyone who does not wish to die a painful death."
Harry went still. His mind began racing. Out of bounds? Why? There's nothing there that's dangerous…
That I know of.
Then, the old imbecile got out his wand and declared they were all to sing the school song. Harry barely listened. He was still thinking about what Dumbledore had said.
Everyone but the first years left the Great Hall in slow droves, heading to their dormitories. The first years were left looking around nervously. Charles and the other prefect, a dark skinned girl named Gemma Farley, came over and told them to gather up and follow them. Prefects at the other House's tables were doing the same.
Harry already knew the way to the Slytherin common room, but he got up and waited with the others anyway.
Charles and Gemma led them out of the Great Hall and towards the stairs that led down to the dungeons. They went down, the first years clustering and speaking in excited whispers. Harry kept to himself.
The dark halls were lit by torches on the walls, casting a flickering orange light. Their footsteps echoed on the stone floor. It intimidated the first years enough that they went silent.
Finally, they reached the bare section of wall that hid the entrance to the common room.
"This is where our common room is," Charles said. "You'll soon become very familiar with this hallway."
"Aspiration," Gemma said, and there was immediately a sound of stone sliding against stone. A rectangular hole opened in the wall, revealing a stone door behind it. Gemma opened it, spilling out greenish-white light into the darkened hallway.
"Aspiration," Charles repeated, looking over the first years, "is the current password. Remember it. The password changes every two weeks, starting today. You'll see new passwords posted on the bulletin board inside. Come on."
Charles went in after Gemma, and the first years followed. As soon as they were in, they all looked around with wonder.
Harry took a deep breath. It had been a long time since he'd last been here. He took in the room's high ceiling, the pillars, the plush chairs, the large fireplace, and the black windows, beyond which lay the Great Lake. In daytime, those windows let through a beautiful aquamarine light.
It was like returning home. He'd missed this place.
"Welcome to the Slytherin common room," Charles declared, standing in front of them with his hands clasped behind his back. To Harry, the gesture made the prefect look remarkably foolish. A few older students sitting in the common room seemed to think so as well—one boy looked at Charles with a grim face, and moved to a chair farther in the back.
"Rule number one," Gemma said, standing beside Charles. "This place is our secret. Do not tell anyone who is not a Slytherin the password, and absolutely do not bring them in here. If you do either of those things, we'll know."
Harry listened to their speech with disinterest. He'd given a few like these himself, back when he'd been a prefect. They were meant to inspire awe and loyalty, but what they mostly did was terrify the first years they were given to. Harry looked around, and as expected, the first years seemed to have the blood drawn from their faces as they listened.
His eye caught the Greengrass girl, Daphne—her straight blonde hair was unmistakable. She was standing a little in front of him. Her face was serious as well, but there was a sharp confidence behind her eyes.
The prefects were just finishing up their little speech when the entrance to the common room opened. It made a loud noise in the silence, and several first years yelped, causing the others to jump.
Harry looked over his shoulder. Through billowing black robes, he saw a familiar face: Severus. The Slytherin Head of House regarded them with distaste, then closed the door behind him in an almost-slam. Some first years jumped again, and the older students who had been sitting in the common room snapped their heads towards the sound. Upon seeing Snape, they swiftly began gathering their things and getting up.
"Professor Snape!" Gemma said. "Everyone, this is Professor Snape, the Slytherin Head of House. We weren't expecting you tonight, professor."
"I wasn't expecting myself, either," Severus said, "but I thought I would… introduce myself early, this year."
Gemma and Charles nodded, moving back to create some space at the front.
Harry's old follower walked forward, the crowd of first years splitting apart to let him through. The young students looked up at him in awed fear. Harry imitated them, but he really felt an amused kind of disappointment.
Severus reached the front and turned to face them. He looked over them all with cold eyes.
"From this moment on, you are Slytherins," he said. "That means you use your head. You do not act brashly, nor do you make yourself look like a fool." His eyes found Harry and lingered on him for a moment.
You should practice what you preach, Severus, Harry thought.
"Everything you do reflects on all of Slytherin. Other houses might be content to let their members run wild, but I am not. I expect only the best, both in your behavior and in your schoolwork. Do not disappoint me. Miss Farley, Mister Piles, take the first years to their dormitories."
"Yes, professor," Charles and Gemma said in unison, going to the sides and calling the first years over to them. Everyone went to them quickly, as if eager to get away from Severus.
Harry started towards Charles, who was gathering the boys near the staircase that led to the boy's dormitories. And just as he'd anticipated, Severus stopped him.
"Potter," the man spat. He pointed to the ground in front of him. "Come here."
Harry went over, hanging his head in mock fear. He looked up at Severus, who was openly glaring at him.
"Do you think yourself special, Potter?" Snape whispered.
"S-Sir?"
The man didn't respond. Disgust flared in his eyes, and Harry curiously wondered what was going on inside that mind. He could break through Severus's occlumency and look—he'd done it on several occasions in the past—but he stayed his hand.
"You're nothing. Nothing but a clueless boy." Snape seemed to be saying this to himself. "If you bring shame to this house, I will personally kick you out of this school. Is that understood?"
Harry widened his eyes and made his voice small. "Y-Yes, sir," he stammered.
"Get out of my sight, you fool," Snape growled.
Harry put his head to the ground and scurried away. Inside, however, he felt very disappointed. Severus had been far scarier in his younger years.