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The other Slytherin first years were seated at the far end of the table, and the order seemed to be alphabetical at first glance. Seated at the absolute end of the table were Bulstrode and Crabbe, sitting across from one another. To their right were Tracy and Goyle whereas Daphne and Malfoy were off to their right opposite each other. Beside them were Moon and Nott, and a seat to the right of Lillian Moon was empty, obviously once meant for him.
It appeared that he had unknowingly broken convention by dragging a seat for himself between Tracy and Daphne who were the only Slytherins he was acquainted with, something he had not noticed before largely because of the recent revelations. The place across him was occupied by Parkinson, who did not seem pleased by the arrangement as the conspicuously empty seat drew more than a few stares his way.
Despite the start, everyone at the table remained quiet and reserved. Alaric glanced around the hall and noticed that almost everyone was taking occasional glances at either him or the Girl-Who-Lived.
Yet of all of the stares, there was a set of eyes that drew his attention and Alaric turned to meet the cerulean blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles.
Dumbledore looked rather contemplative, and Alaric thought he had a rather mournful look about him as the old man noticed his gaze and smiled encouragingly without breaking the stare. Before he could even realize it, the owner of those intense blue eyes had gotten to his feet. Albus Dumbledore was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all and looking no more than an innocent old man pleased to see his students even if everything Alaric knew about him told otherwise.
"Welcome," he said, his voice a soothing baritone, "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our scrumptious banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are!
"Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
He sat back down with a twinkle in his eyes even as everybody clapped and cheered. Alaric followed along even though he didn't know whether to laugh or not, it seemed that the strange reputation of his Headmaster was indeed deserved.
"Is he a bit mad?" Tracy asked carefully from beside him.
"Completely," Alaric answered, unable to help the small grin that played across his lips as he repeated the words he had heard so many times before, "He's brawny but also brilliant, absolutely brilliant"
"Mad hardly does it justice," drawled Malfoy, cutting into their conversation as food appeared in front of them from out of nowhere. "Father has said for years that Dumbledore is losing it, he doesn't even think he's fit to run the school. But some families still believe in him and his greatness."
Malfoy looked pointedly towards the Weasleys seated at the Gryffindor tale once he had finished drawing air quotes. "What does your family think about him, Peverell? From what I've heard, your father was quite close to Dumbledore once."
Alaric met Malfoy's eyes and tried to pour as much indifference into his stare as he could. "I wouldn't know, Malfoy. I've had very little to do with the Headmaster in my life,"
His voice was not impolite, but it definitely came out on the cooler side. Malfoy raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued as he leaned forward but Alaric ignored him in favour of serving food onto his plate which had magically appeared on their table.
"I guess it would explain it, must've been too busy with Potter to have time for anyone else." Malfoy continued, sounding like he wanted to add a lot more of his personal opinions regarding said steps even though he did not.
It was not quite an insult, his voice did not carry enough intent for that but it certainly tethered somewhere between teasing and a subtle jab. It could have been a coincidence but there was the obvious insinuation that Peverells were not important enough in the grand scheme of things.
It was actually rather clever from what he had expected of the blond boy who clearly remembered how he had shut the door in his face before, then again it just might be the ramblings of a child rather than a calculated move to try and cast shade on his reputation by making him out to be worthless.
"Something like that, yes," Alaric answered, refusing to take the obvious bait even as the tension at the table thickened.
He felt a stare again and he assumed it would be Dumbledore's, but it was not. This time, the set of eyes that had been examining him belonged to a sallow-skinned man with a rather hooked nose and long sheets of greasy black hair that framed his face.
He leaned across the table towards Tracy, who appeared well-informed enough to answer his questions before asking, "Who is that man?"
Tracy seemed to swell with excitement at the question as if sharing knowing something Alaric did not pleased her. "The man is Professor Snape. He's our Head of House and teaches Potions though some say he once wanted to teach Defence. The position's cursed, you know?"
"Cursed?" asked Alaric, peering curiously at the rather plain man adorned in dark robes beside Professor Snape whose head was adorned in a purple turban.
"Oh yes!" she said, her voice finally taking on an air of dramatic excitement as if she were sharing a hidden secret. "They haven't managed to keep a professor for more than a year since the sixties. Something always happens to the defence professor!"
"How interesting," mumbled Alaric, to which Tracy nodded. Alaric spent the majority of his meal quietly, choosing to simply evaluate his peers. After an hour, Headmaster Dumbledore got up on his feet again as the deserts too vanished, his arms spread wide as if to embrace the entire hall.
"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 yet another pair of twins at the Gryffindor table and Alaric could not help but wonder if twins were somehow more common in the magical world.
"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." The old man pointedly looked at all the students gathered before him, before shaking his head and turning towards the Staff Table, "Moreover, I have the pleasure to announce that Professor Quirinus Quirrell has finally returned from his sabbatical and shall be taking up the role of the Defence Against the Dark Arts Instructor this year."
There was some clapping as the tall man with well-defined features whose head was covered by a purple turban swept gracefully to his feet, but there were more mutters of surprise than anything else. Most of the older students seemed to have recognised the man, but through the second years remained confused even as they clapped slowly out of habit if nothing else.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch." Dumbledore announced and paused to let his words sink in, glancing at the few excited students before continuing in a sombre tone a moment later, "And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."
Pansy Parkinson's laughter could be heard over that of most, but Alaric did not laugh. His eyes narrowed upon the headmaster and he was sure that there was more truth to Dumbledore's statement than anyone knew.
"Guess you were right, Draco," grinned Nott, turning towards the blond boy, "He really must be mad."
"No," Alaric said softly, drawing almost everyone's attention to him as he narrowed his eyes at Dumbledore, "He's being completely serious,"
Tracy nodded slowly, but everyone else who heard his words looked sceptical. "And how would you know that?" asked Malfoy who looked most sceptical of them all.
"Just a hunch," Malfoy sneered at his grin, clearly ignoring his words.
"And with that cheerful note," said Dumbledore loudly, causing the chatter to die down almost at once even with his soft voice. The older man had a presence around him, one that compelled everyone to listen, "I think it is time for bed!"
They all stood, but as they did so, an older student approached them. He was maybe a third or fourth year and he spoke loud enough for his words to be heard across the entire table, "Peverell was having you on, Draco. His House has always been famous for overblown legends and I can see he does not fall far from the rest of them,"
"I was not speaking to Malfoy in the first place, thank you" Despite the polite tone of voice, Alaric's eyes gleamed with a fair bit of challenge. As much as Alaric knew the smart thing was probably keeping his head down, he had always harboured a defiant streak.
"Were you now?" the other boy asked cruelly, sounding amused.
"Back off, Macnair."
This new voice drew everyone's attention. It was soft and smooth, and it belonged to a tall boy with blonde hair and enchanting, almost magnetic bluish-silver eyes. He wore a Head Boy badge on his chest and looked completely at ease as he addressed Macnair.
"Leave the first years alone, it makes you seem as if you need an easy boost to your ego." The older boy's small smile made it perfectly obvious to all present that he knew that was exactly what he wanted even as Daphne nervously lowered her head from her head. How curious…
Alaric had to admire the way he had done that. The third-year scowled but did not say anything back. Instead, he ducked his head and walked the other way.
The boy looked at all of them, his eyes lingering briefly on Daphne for a moment before they moved away. "First years over there with the fifth-year prefects, Rhea and Jacob."
He indicated a thin boy with very pale skin and soft, aristocratic features as well as a brunette girl who seemed to be the leader of the two of them.
The first years stood up collectively and followed after the older students quietly without a word more being spoken. They turned a corner a moment later and made their way down a corridor filled with a myriad of serpentine decor. Alaric thought it rather simple, but rather ingenious when they did stop at its end and instead, they continued through a passage with several more corridors that stopped at an innocent stretch of wall which looked much like any other.
A clever diversion that gave way to them when one of the Prefects spoke the password which Alaric absently shoved to a corner of his mind.
The wall slid aside as if it were a muggle sliding door upon their approach to reveal what appeared to be a richly decorated common room that seemed to be lit by a dull, green light. They could see straight into the depths of what Alaric assumed was the black lake and several staircases led to what he assumed were the dormitories.
"Good evening." an oily voice spoke from the shadows, making a few of them jump. Professor Snape stepped into the torchlight; his face completely impassive as he stared at each of them in turn. His eyes rested for what Alaric felt like was a fraction of a second too long upon him.
"Welcome to the noble house of Salazar Slytherin." His voice came out like a hiss, barely more than a whisper. "This house has its values and traditions to uphold, and I expect each of you to do so. One of this house's key attributes is ambition. I expect each of you to strive for greatness. I shall accept nothing less."
Several of the first years shifted uncomfortably, but not Alaric. "This house will grant you every asset you could wish for along your journey, assuming you are not crushed under its weight," he continued. "In the end, it rests upon yourselves to carve out your own path, uphold the standards of Slytherin house and further your own legacy.
"I expect nothing but excellence in every sense of the word from each of you. Meeting my admittedly lofty expectations will be rewarded, and I shall do what I deem prudent to help you along your way as your Head of House." His eyes hardened as he took a long, dramatic pause. "Do not disappoint me."
And with that he turned, his robes billowing as if caught in a sudden breeze as he swept from the common room.
Wicked...
Thanks for reading.