As expected, Ron went to Gryffindor, and he didn't look at Harry at all as he went to the Gryffindor table. Harry had maintained some small hope that Ron might get sorted into Slytherin, but now that hope was dead.
"Don't tell me you're still pining after that Weasley," Malfoy commented snidely. "Now that you're one of us, I doubt the Weasleys will even look twice at you-"
"Be quiet, Malfoy, and stop provoking Potter," a larger, fair-haired girl said from Harry's left. "Unless you want detention before you even see the dorm."
Harry look at her, and noticed a large, shiny prefect badge on her front.
Noticing his attention, the fair-haired girl sent a sly smirk his way. "Congratulations on making Slytherin, Potter. I'm Gemma Farley, Fifth year prefect."
"Oh, uh," Harry said dumbly, slightly startled to be addressed so directly.
Recovering his wits, he raised his hand. "Please to meet you."
"You as well, Potter," Gemma nodded, shaking his hand.
The girl didn't say anything else after that, so Harry turned his attention back to the high table. There, he watched just in time for "Zabini, Blaise," to be declared "SLYTHERIN!". Zabini quickly made his way to the table, where he took a seat on Harry's other side.
With a start, Harry realized that there was no one else to sort, as Professor McGonagall was currently rolling up her scroll, before taking away the Sorting Hat. It was then that he noticed a rather large number of people from the other houses looking his way: it seems that most people didn't like his sorting in Slytherin House, if their hard looks was anything to go by.
Harry looked down at his golden plate self-consciously: Was everyone in the school really that invested in which house he spent the next seven years here in?
The idea seemed ludicrous to Harry; after all, he might be famous… but surely he wasn't that famous, was he? Harry's brow furrowed. Well, maybe it would explain why everyone seemed to know his name… and why everyone was looking at him like he had betrayed them… even though Harry hardly knew anyone in the school.
While Harry had been thinking, Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, and there was a great rustling as people craned to get a better look at him. The sound awoke Harry from his thoughts, and he too took a look at Dumbledore:
He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there.
"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words… and here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered, though Harry noticed that the Slytherin's just politely clapped. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.
"Is he… is he a bit mad?" he asked Gemma Farley uncertainly.
"Of course he's off his rocker, everyone knows that," Malfoy pointed out. "My father says that every year Dumbledore remains Headmaster, Hogwarts suffers for it."
Harry frowned at Malfoy, but before he could retort, he was distracted by the sudden appearance of food on the table. Harry's mouth nearly fell open at the sight; he had never seen so many things he like to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.
The Dursleys had never exactly starved Harry… but he'd never been allowed to eat as much as he liked. Dudley had always taken anything that Harry really wanted, even if it made him sick.
Harry quickly piled his plate with a bit of everything except for the peppermints.
"Goodness, Potter, are you sure you'll be able to eat that whole lot?" Zabini asked curiously from his right.
Harry looked between his plate full of food, and Zabini's expectant face, perplexed at the unexpected question. "Uh… I think so?"
"Alright," Zabini nodded. "Just don't try to shovel it all down at once. You wouldn't want to look like Weasley over there."
He pointed towards the Gryffindor table. Frowning, Harry looked in that direction, where he noticed Ron predictably stuffing his face with food. He looked patently ridiculous from this angle, and Harry felt a twinge of embarrassment; would he be doing the same if he was sitting at the Gryffindor table with Ron?
Perplexed, Harry looked around at the Slytherin table and noticed that everyone seemed to be eating rather delicately, with small, carefully cut bites, and careful observance to table manners. Additionally, Harry noticed that they all seemed to only have a few items on their plates at a given time
Feeling himself flush with embarrassment at his large loaded plate, he muttered a quick thanks to Zabini, before picking up his utensils and carefully mimicking the table manners of the other people at the table. He didn't add anything else to his plate after that.
"Interesting," a whispery voice said from across the table, and Harry looked up to see a horrible looking ghost sitting across from him. The ghost had blank staring eyes, a gaunt face, and robes stained with silvery blood.
"Um, excuse me, but what's interesting?" Harry asked timidly.
The ghost just stared at him, not uttering another word. After a moment Harry jerked his eyes away from the Ghost's stare, shrugged his shoulders, and resumed eating.
"That's the Bloody Baron," Gemma said from his left. "You're in luck, Potter. It's rare that he takes an interest in a first year."
Harry frowned. He didn't feel lucky, and he didn't feel inclined to ask how the Bloody Baron got covered in blood.
"Chin up, Potter," Gemma said a moment later. "He's not that bad, once you get to know him."
Harry gave her a side eye. "Is it wise to speak of him when he's right in front of us?"
"Don't worry about it," she shrugged. "He's like that with everyone. He'll start talking to you eventually."
If anything, that made Harry feel worse: he didn't envy the prospect of talking to such a horrible looking ghost on a regular basis.
"What's the matter, Potter?" Zabini asked. "Not used to ghosts?"
"Well, there weren't that many ghosts around Privet Drive," Harry explained, before chuckling. "Besides, I think my relatives would have thrown a fit if they learnt of any hanging around there. They don't like magic much."
Zabini frowned. "What do you mean, not like magic? What kind of Witch or Wizard doesn't like magic?"
"Well, they… they weren't exactly a Witch and Wizard," Harry explained. "They were-"
"Do you mean to tell us that you were raised by Muggles?" Malfoy said with shock.
Harry looked at him with surprise. "Well, yes. I grew up with the Dursleys."
There was a rather muted reaction to that, with most of the Slytherins looking at him with shock.
"Oh, you poor thing," Gemma said sympathetically. "I can't imagine what it must have been like. It's bad enough that Muggleborns grow up with them, but for a true blood wizard like you… that must have been awful."
Harry frowned minutely. He knew that not all muggles were bad, but the truth was, his time with the Dursleys had actually been awful.
"That explains why you refused my offer," Draco sneered. "Dumbledore wanted a muggle lover so he had you grow up with muggles…"
Harry felt his temper flare. "No, Malfoy. I refused your so called offer because you were being a prat and because you insulted my friend…"
He trailed off… it was pretty clear that Ron wasn't his friend anymore.
Malfoy smirked. "Well, where's your so called friend now, Potter? Oh, that's right… he's at the Gryffindor table, stuffing his face like the Weasley he is-"
Harry glared at Malfoy murderously. He wanted nothing more than to leap over the table and punch him in the face.
"I thought I told you to stop provoking Potter, Malfoy," Gemma commented dangerously before Harry could do anything. "I don't want to imagine what your father would think if you got detention on your first day of school."
Malfoy paled at that last comment, and he remained quiet for the rest of the banquet.
"Thank you," Harry said quietly a few moments later.
Gemma just nodded at him. For the next several minutes there was little more to be heard at the Slytherin Table besides the pitter-patter of food being eaten.
"So… what was it like growing up with Muggles?" Zabini asked after a while.
"Pretty awful," Harry admitted after a moment's consideration. "I slept in the broom cupboard under the stairs until my first Hogwarts letter came… then they moved me to my cousins second room."
"You slept in a broom cupboard?" Zabini asked with shock.
Harry frowned. "Well, yeah."
"How perfectly dreadful," a girl with a pug like face said from across the table. "I knew muggles were terrible, but I didn't know they were that bad."
"Not all muggles are bad like the Dursleys," Harry pointed out.
"Really? Did you know any?" Zabini asked curiously.
Harry paused… he struggled to think of any muggle that had not treated him with contempt… but he couldn't think of any. With a shock, Harry realized that he had never known of a single muggle that had actually been nice to him. All the people at school had been scared off by Dudley, and not one of them had been brave enough to befriend him. His teachers never bothered to help him with homework or anything, and everyone in the neighborhood viewed him with contempt, having been told viscous lies about him from a young age, that he was a hooligan who was up to no good.
"Well… none that I know of personally," he admitted shyly. "But there's got to be some good muggles out there, somewhere, right?"
Zabini raised his eyebrow. "I'm not sure how you can keep thinking that… considering how badly they've treated you."
Harry frowned… was Zabini right? Were all Muggles really as bad as the Dursleys? Harry shook his head. No, he found it difficult to believe that an entire group of people could really be as bad as the Dursleys. Harry firmly believed that the Dursleys were unique in their cruelty… At least the teachers at school had never locked him away in a broom cupboard until he went hungry.
Harry took another bite of his food, and studiously ignored any farther questions, which caused the Slytherins to talk amongst themselves.
As Harry worked to clear his plate, he politely listened to the Slytherins talking around him: it seemed that everyone in Slytherin house already knew each other to a point. He learned from Zabini that the pug faced girl was Parkinson, and the reedy looking boy next to her was Nott.
On the other side of Zabini sat Bulstrode, a rather large girl, and next to her sat Lily Moon. Across from Moon sat a rather severe looking blonde haired girl called Daphne Greengrass. Harry had never thought an eleven year old girl could look severe before, but somehow Greengrass managed it.
When his plate was cleared, Harry sat back with sigh of contentment. That had been some good food. Feeling a bit warm and sleepy, Harry decided to look up at the High Table again. Hagrid was picking at his food, looking morose. Professor McGonagall was deep in conversation with Dumbledore, and sneaking glances at Harry every now and then.
Professor Quirrell, in his bright purple turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin. The hook nosed teacher seemed barely to be paying attention to him, instead looking straight at Harry with a mutinous expression on his face.
Suddenly, the hook nosed teacher caught Harry's eye… and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.
"Ouch," Harry said minutely, rubbing his forehead.
"What is it?" Gemma asked curiously.
"Nothing," Harry muttered. The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling Harry had gotten from the teacher's look… a feeling that he didn't like Harry at all.
"Who is the teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" Harry asked Gemma curiously.
"That's Professor Snape, our Head of House," Gemma explained at once. "He teaches potions… but everyone knows he'd rather be teaching the Dark Arts."
"Don't you mean Defense Against the Dark Arts?" Harry asked curiously.
To Harry's surprise, Gemma and everyone else nearby at the Slytherin Table chortled.
"As if," Gemma replied with a haughty shrug. "If you knew anything about magic, you'd know that 'Defense Against the Dark Arts' is just a Ministry label. You'll still learn Hexes, Jinxes, and Curses in that class, so it's still basically The Dark Arts, no matter what the Ministry calls it. Even if it's just kiddie fodder that they teach firsties like you."
Harry frowned. "If that's true… then why don't they just call it what it is?"
"Politics," Zabini said with a shrug.
Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, so he settled on not saying anything at all.
Harry watched Snape for a while, but Snape seemed to be ignoring his gaze.
At last, dinner had come and gone, and dessert had come and gone as well. After the last bit of Treacle Tart had disappeared from the table, Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again.
"Ahem – just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch Trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their House teams should contact Madam Hooch.
"And finally, I much tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds for all who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Harry chuckled, but no one else did.
"He's not serious?" he asked Gemma.
"Hard to tell with Dumbledore," Gemma shrugged. "At any rate, I expect that no one here will be foolish enough to test his word, understood?"
That last question was addressed to the first years clustered near Harry, and most of them nodded.
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. There was a lot of groaning at the Slytherin Table.
"What the hell is this?" one of the older students muttered. "He's never done this before."
"Dumbledore does this every seven years," Gemma commented. "Professor Snape told me. You firsties are lucky you only have to do it in your first year."
Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was a conductor, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.
"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore, "And off we go!"
And the school bellowed:
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,
Teach us something please,
Whether we be old and bald,
or young with scabby knees,
our heads could do with filling
With some interesting stuff,
for now they're bare and full of air,
Dead flies and bits of fluff,
So teach us things worth knowing,
Bring back what we've forgot,
Just do your best, we'll do the rest,
and learn until our brains all rot."
Every Slytherin finished the song quickly, and all of them were looking rather embarrassed at singing the rather childish song.
The next few minutes were drawn out as the Weasley Twins were left singing along to a very slow funeral march, with Dumbledore conducting their last few lines with his wand. When they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.
"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes of genuine tears. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
With that, Gemma stood up and called: "Alright, Firsties. You're with me, I'll be showing you the way to the Slytherin Common Room."
The Slytherin First Years all got up and made to follow Gemma, and she lead them through the crowds, out of the Great Hall, and down towards the Dungeons. Harry tried his best to remember where they were going, but he was feeling somewhat sleepy.
Eventually, they arrived at what seemed like bare patch of wall somewhere deep in the dungeons.
"Alright, listen up because I'm only going to say this once," Gemma said in a high voice, causing many of the sleepy first years to look up and pay attention. "This patch of wall is the entrance to the Slytherin Common room. Would anyone like to take a guess as to why?"
"I read in Hogwarts, A History that the entrance to the Slytherin Common Room can be found in a hall way where lots of carved snakes can be found in the stone work," Nott pointed out.
"Very good, Nott," Gemma said approvingly. "Now, why don't you firsties take a look around and see how many snakes you can find."
With that, the first years began to take a look around the hallway. Harry himself began looking around as well, and now that he knew what to look for, he could see snakes everywhere: Snakes carved into stones laid into the walls, impressions of snakes made in the stonework on the floor, and even a few snakes carved into pillars that marked the hallway's entrance.
"Now, can anyone tell me why the entrance to the Common Room is marked by Snakes?" Gemma asked the firsties.
"The Symbol of House Slytherin is a Serpent," Nott replied smugly.
"Precisely," Gemma nodded.
"But why would Slytherin have a Serpent for their house symbol?" Harry asked curiously.
Gemma looked at him critically. "Well, you were raised by muggles, so it makes sense that you wouldn't know… Basically, Salazar Slytherin, the founder of our house, was a Parselmouth."
"A Parselmouth can speak to snakes," She added at Harry's confusion. "It's a rare talent, but it was said that Slytherin had the ability, and that he passed it down to his descendants."
"So… only a Parselmouth can speak to snakes?" Harry asked curiously, but also frowning inwardly, remembering the Boa Constrictor he had set on his cousin.
"Well, that's the rumor," Gemma shrugged. "But it's not like just anyone can talk to snakes, or any other animals, to be clear. Far as I know, there hasn't been a known Parselmouth in Great Britain in ages."
"What a strange talent," Zabini commented. "I mean, what use could snakes be?"
"I wouldn't discount Parselmagic if I was you," Nott interjected. "It's said that a Parselmage can heal any kind of injury, even those caused by the darkest of curses. Case in point, there was a famous Parselmage called Hermeticus in ancient Greece who was said to have healed the wizard Irycles of an ancient, incurable curse, restoring his sanity and allowing him to live a normal life… The only other thing that can do something like that is the Elixir of Life, but that stuffs too expensive for anyone to afford…"
"Thank you for the impromptu history lesson, Nott," Gemma cut in. "But I think it's time to move on."
With that, she walked to the middle of the hallway.
"The password is Carpe Diem," She said. "it changes once a term, and a notice of the new password will be posted two weeks before the changes."
As the password was spoken, a portion of the wall simply disappeared to reveal a passage, through which the Slytherin Common Room itself was revealed:
The Common Room was a large, dungeonish room, with walls made of rough cut stone. There were several fireplaces with carved marble mantelpieces, inside of which burned green flame. The rest of the room was lit by green lamps that hung in the air above a large number of tastefully arranged old fashioned sofas and tables, both of which were made of silvery wood, and the sofas had lime green upholstery.
At the far side of the Common room was a large window that Harry realized with a start looked out into the lake. The moon was shining on the lake's surface, which caused ripples of pale light to flood into the room.
The walls were covered with old paintings, and the room was full of older students were sitting around and socializing.
Over all, Harry felt that it had a fairly relaxing and welcoming air to it.
"So, there are a few things you firsties need to be made aware of before I send you to your dormitories," Gemma said after she lead the first year Slytherins into the common room.
"First and foremost, Professor Snape is our head of house. While it is true that he favors us in his classes, Professor Snape is a stern man who does not tolerate failure very well. He will not appreciate learning that you broke any rules or caused our house to lose house points, and he'll be particularly put out if he finds out that you have been served detention."
Gemma gave a stern look to all of them.
"However, he is very protective of Slytherin house, and will usually take your side in any conflict with other student. Just be sure not to get involved in any conflicts in the first place and you'll be fine."
"Now, as for Slytherin House itself," Gemma paused here. "There are three things that Slytherin House values: Blood purity, Money, and Power. Possess at least one of these three things, and you'll do well in Slytherin. Fail, and you'll be a pariah. It's as simple as that.
"Slytherin House has little tolerance for the weak, so even if you're pure blood, you're still expected to accumulate at least a little power. As first years, you're not expected to be engaged in the political games that the older years like to play, so you get a free pass in most matters.
"However, I suggest that you take this year as a chance to study how the games are played, because you will be engaged in them next year, whether you want to or not."
Harry gulped as he listen to Gemma: he had a rough understanding of what she meant by Money and Power, but Blood Purity? Harry had no idea what Blood Purity was, but he should probably find out, quick.
Gemma paused. "One last thing: As Slytherin House is known for political infighting, the dorms have been modified so that only two people have to share a room at a time. Which rooms you pick are up to you, of course, but once you choose, the rooms are locked in for the rest of your time at Hogwarts. That way, that only you can get into your assigned room, so choose wisely who you would share a room with.
"The boys dorms are down the left hallway, and girl dorms are down the right."
That was the last thing Gemma said before she walked off.
"I suppose we should have a proper talk about the housing situation," Daphne Greengrass said a moment later. "Come, girls, lets find a spot to discuss the situation."
With that, the girls separated from the boys and flounced off to a distant corner of the common room.
"I guess we've better do the same," Zabini said a moment later, leading the boys to a different corner of the Common, where they all sat down.
"Obviously, Crabbe and Goyle should have their own room," Malfoy said as soon as they sat down. "And I think I'll take a room with Potter."
Harry gave Malfoy a bewildered stare. "Why on earth would I share a room with you, Malfoy?"
"Well, obviously I'm not sharing a room with Nott or Zabini…" Malfoy sneered.
Nott's face turned red with anger. "Just because my family is poor doesn't mean you get to insult me to my face, Malfoy. I'm just as pureblood as you are."
"Maybe so, but that doesn't mean I want your poor blood stink around me when I'm sleeping," Malfoy sneered. "Besides, my father could have your father fired in an instant, so I'd watch what I was saying if I was you."
Nott bristled at the insult, but otherwise didn't say anything else.
"Well, I'm not sharing a room with you either, Malfoy," Zabini said mildly. "So I guess you'll just have to find a room all to yourself."
"Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way," Nott interjected. "The magic of the Slytherin common room insures that there are only as many rooms as there are students to live in them. I learned about it in Hogwarts, A History."
"Really?" Zabini said with surprise. "That's a strange design choice, but if that's the case, I really think it's best if you just share a room with Nott, Malfoy."
"Why? So you can seduce Harry, kill him, and steal all his riches?" Malfoy asked with a sneer.
"That was the plan," Zabini replied cheerfully through clinched teeth. "Too bad you had to go and spoil it."
Harry stared wide-eyed between Malfoy and Zabini. "What?!"
"Oh, right, forgot you were raised by Muggles…" Malfoy commented. "Zabini's mother is a famous widow, known for seducing rich men and then taking their riches through inheritance when they die years later under… mysterious circumstances. I'm fairly certain she would have passed her skills down to Zabini here –"
"Right, except for the fact that no one has been able to prove those wild claims," Zabini pointed out in a curt tone. "Besides, we're getting off topic. How about a compromise: You share a room with Goyle, Nott can stay with Crabbe, and I'll share a room with Potter. Does that sound fair?"
"Er… I'm not sure I want to share a room with you either, Zabini," Harry pointed out, feeling queasy.
Zabini frowned at him, before shrugging and rolling his eyes. "Don't worry, Potter, I'm not into blokes, and whatever Malfoy says, I certainly have no desire to… seduce you."
"That doesn't make me feel any better," Harry muttered.
Malfoy shot a nasty grin at Zabini, before looking to Harry with a haughty expression on his face. "Come on, Potter, you certainly don't want to spend the next seven years sharing a room with someone like him… Besides, I understand now why you didn't take my offer… you know nothing about how our world really works… but I can help you there. Sure, we may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I'm willing to give you one more chance…"
With that, he extended his hand, and Harry found himself looking at it for a long moment.
"Malfoy… " Harry started slowly. "Ever since I've met you, you'd done nothing but insult everyone I know. You insulted Hagrid, you insulted Ron… and as soon as we got here, you basically insulted every one of our fellow housemates. Considering that… why on earth do you think I could even consider sharing a room with you for the next seven years?"
Malfoy's pale face grew pinker with every word that Harry spoke. "I see… you'll regret this, Potter, especially now that you're a Slytherin–"
Harry, however, had had enough of listening to Malfoy. "The only thing I'm regretting, Malfoy, is watching you flap your big, fat mouth–"
Zabini wisely chose to interject at that moment. "Well, it would seem that the two of you are at an impasse… Malfoy, there's still the solution I proposed: You take a room with Goyle, Nott rooms with Crabbe, and I'll take a room with Potter."
A pause descended upon the group of first years, with Malfoy and Harry glaring at each other furiously for a long moment.
"Well, I suppose it will have to do," Malfoy said eventually, looking away from Harry. "At least Goyle's family is wealthy."
With that, Malfoy stood up, and Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott made to follow him, leaving Harry and Zabini behind.
"Is your mum really… what Malfoy said she was?" Harry asked curiously.
"I don't really want to talk about it," Zabini sighed, before giving Harry a look. "I guess we're roommates for the next seven years. I'm sure it'll come up at some point."
"Alright," Harry nodded slowly, a queasy feeling returning to his stomach now that Malfoy was gone.
Zabini stood up, and Harry made to follow him.
The left hallway, it turned out, was fairly long, and it took a while for Zabini and Harry to find an empty dorm.
"Hmm, seems like Malfoy took the only lake side dorm available," Zabini commented when they had spotted a door to their right with a silvery plaque marked with Malfoy & Goyle.
Harry pursed his lips, but didn't say anything else. Eventually they were able to find a dorm to their left that didn't have a pair of names marked on it.
As Zabini opened the door, a silvery plaque marked with Potter & Zabini appeared on it. The door opened to reveal a rather luxurious room beyond it:
Two large Four Poster Beds sat with their heads against each wall to the left and right of the entrance. They were, as expected, made of carved silvery wood and had dark green drapes. Each bed had a large wardrobe and desk sitting on either side of them, with the desk being closer to the entrance, and the wardrobe being closer to the far wall.
The far wall had a single large fireplace with a mantelpiece made of carved marble like the ones in the Common room, and like the ones in the Common room, it had a green fire burning within it. In front of the fire place were two large old fashioned armchairs, made with silvery wood and lime green upholstery.
The dorm was rather spacious in Harry's estimation, with plenty of legroom for him and Zabini both.
Their trunks had already arrived and were laid out for them at the end of their beds, with Harry's on the right, and Zabini's on the left.
Without another word, Zabini went to his trunk and started to unpack. Harry closed the door behind him, and watched Zabini for a moment… he should probably unpack as well…. But right now Harry felt a bit high strung and worried.
Instead, Harry made his way over to the armchair on the right and sat down, gazing down at the green fire that burned merrily in the fireplace…
Slytherin, in Harry's estimation, what exactly what everyone had warned him it would be: a house full of dark wizards. Malfoy was bad enough… but if what he said about Zabini was true… Harry couldn't imagine spending the next seven years sleeping next to the boy and not feeling at least a bit queasy at the notion that he was sleeping next to the son of some widow who was famous for killing her husbands… and getting away with it.
Then there was what Farley had said about Defense Against the Dark Arts… was what she said true?
Frowning, Harry got up and walked over to his trunk. After digging through it a moment, he got out his copy of The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.
"Isn't it a bit late to be reading?" Zabini asked curiously.
Harry gave him a side eye, but didn't respond to the question, instead taking a look at the table of contents. As Farley had claimed, there was indeed a section labeled Hexes, Jinxes, and Curses, a brief overview.
With a sigh, Harry snapped the book shut, and put it back in his trunk. Farley had claimed that Curses were Dark Arts. Did that mean she was correct about Defense against the Dark Arts?
Harry couldn't say for certain. In fact, now that he thought about it, there was a lot that Harry didn't know, and now that it seemed like he had stepped into a viper's nest without knowing about it.
Harry felt that if he didn't get some answers to some of his questions, he could very well get bit.
Harry eyed Zabini again: would Zabini be the right person to ask his questions? The feeling in his gut said no, he couldn't trust Zabini. Harry wasn't certain if it had been what Malfoy had said about the boy, but his instincts told him that Zabini was unlikely to tell him the full truth.
Instead, Harry decided that if he wanted some answers, he would have to look elsewhere.
"I'll be back in a bit," Harry said as he made his way to the door.
"Where are you going?" Zabini asked curiously.
"Out," Harry said simply.
Closing the door behind him, Harry quickly made his way towards the common room. Thankfully, it seemed that Gemma Farley was still up, as it seemed she was socializing with a small group of people near one of the larger fireplaces.
Farley immediately spotted him as he arrive. "Ah, Potter, what are you still doing up? Did you have trouble with the sleeping arrangements?"
Harry shook his head. "No, actually. I was wondering if I could ask you a few questions?"
Farley frowned, before shrugging and getting up. "Alright, but it'll cost you."
Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"
"I've already told you the due minimum that first years need to know," Farley explained. "Anything more than that is extra, so it will cost you."
Harry's frown deepened. "Alright. What do you want?"
"Well, some Sickles would be nice," Farley pointed out, holding her hand up and rubbing her fingertips together.
Harry sighed and pulled out his money bag, counting out four Sickles and handing them to Farley.
"There, was that so hard?" Farley said wryly as she pocketed the Sickles. "Now, I imagine you'd like some privacy."
Harry nodded, and made to follow her as she walked a fair distance away from her group of friends.
"Alright, ask your questions, Potter," Farley instructed after pulling out her wand and casting some kind of spell.
"Uh, what was that spell you just cast?" Harry asked curiously.
"Oh that?" Farley shrugged. "Just a privacy ward. Don't worry about it, Potter. Now ask your questions."
"Alright," Harry sighed. "Earlier you mentioned Blood Purity. What exactly is Blood Purity?"
Farley blinked at him for a moment. "Oh right, you were raised by muggles so you wouldn't know."
She frowned for a moment, thinking. "Basically, Blood Purity is the idea that wizarding children born to wizards are better than wizarding children born to muggles. If you're born to two muggles, you're a muggleborn. If you're born to a wizard and a muggle, or born to muggleborns, you're a half-blood. But if you're born to a Wizard and Witch who were both born and raised in our world, you're a pureblood. Does that make sense?"
Harry stared at her, perplexed. The idea that some wizards would be lesser than others just because of whom they born to… Harry wasn't sure what to think about it. Suddenly he was reminded of some things that Malfoy had said.
"I really don't think they should let the other sort in, do you? They're just not the same, they've never been brought up to know our ways. Some of them have never even heard of Hogwarts until they get the letter, imagine. I think they should keep it in the old wizarding families.
"You'll soon find out that some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort."
"What about the Weasleys?" he asked curiously.
"Oh they're purebloods, to be sure," Farley nodded. "But most of the older families consider them to be blood traitors, because they're always marrying muggleborns."
Harry frowned. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of Blood Status. It seemed rather arbitrary in his estimation. After all, it wasn't the muggleborns fault who they were born to.
"Anyway, don't worry about your own status, Potter," Farley said, interrupting his thoughts. "You're a halfblood, so you don't have anything to worry about."
Harry's frown deepened. Having his own so called Blood Status revealed to him didn't make him feel any better, honestly.
"Alright," he nodded. "I think that's all I wanted to know."
Farley nodded. "Before you go, Potter, I was wondering if I could ask you a question of my own."
Harry paused, before holding his hand up and rubbing his fingertips together.
Farley smirked, before handing him back two of his sickles.
"Go ahead," Harry nodded after pocketing the Sickles.
"Why did you end up in Slytherin?" Farley asked directly.
Harry frowned. "Why do you want to know?"
"It's all anyone's been talking about," Farley explained. "The great Boy Who Lived, to end up in Slytherin. Everyone's very curious to find out why you chose our house."
Harry frowned. "Boy Who Lived?"
"Well, you vanquished the Dark Lord as a child," Farley pointed out. "So that's what people call you: the Boy Who Lived."
Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. Great, it wasn't enough that he was famous for something he didn't even remember doing, but now apparently people had to go so far as to give him some stupid title. "Well, if you must know… the hat said I could be… er… 'Great', and that Slytherin would help me on the path to… greatness."
Farley looked at him with wide eyes. "The hat said that?"
Harry just nodded.
"I see," Farley frowned, before smirking. "Well, the hat was right. Slytherin is the best house to help people achieve great things. You chose well, Potter."
Harry frowned. If anything, he was regretting his choice. If he had chosen Gryffindor, he'd probably been sleeping in a dorm with Ron by now, free of any worries. Instead he was awake in Slytherin, feeling queasy because it seemed that he was surrounded by a bunch of very worrisome people.
"Alright," Farley said a moment later. "You've got an early start tomorrow, so I suggest you go to bed."
Harry nodded and turned to make his back to his dorm.
"Just a word of advice, Potter," Farley said before he could take a single step. "I suggest you avoid just sitting around and waiting for Greatness to come to you. If you want to be Great, you have to earn it."
"I'll keep that in mind," Harry nodded. "See you around, Farley."
"Night, Potter," Farley smirked. "Don't let Zabini get to you. I'd be the one to have to clean up the mess."
Harry sighed and huffed. Apparently it wasn't just Malfoy who knew about Zabini's mother…
As he made his way back to his dorm, however, he found himself dwelling on Farley's advice: if he wanted to be great… he had to earn it.
Surprisingly, Harry found himself agreeing with Farley.
He had made his choice, no matter how much he was now regretting it. The Hat said that he had the potential to be great… and that Slytherin would help him on the path to greatness…
Harry wasn't certain what that meant, exactly, but perhaps it was time that he accepted his choice, and willing walked this path to greatness that the Hat had spoken of…
No matter how hard or difficult the path he walked got.
AN: This chapter has been edited, and I'm in the process of editing subsequent chapters. I'll add another author's note to this chapter when the editing process is finished.
