Year One begins in earnest...
ρꪖ᭙ꪀᦓ, ᥅ꪮꪮᛕᦓ, ꪖꪀᦔ ꪇꪊꫀꫀꪀᦓ
Tom Riddle is awake inside the diary.
Lily and James Potter had another child.
Two mistakes, dire consequences. To begin with, Vernon Dursley is dead.
On the bright side, ʜᴀʀʀʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ is a wizard. On the not-so-bright side, the man who murdered his parents is after him, and there are strange shadows following him around.
On the bright side, no one found out that ʀᴜʙʏ ᴘᴏᴛᴛᴇʀ killed Vernon Dursley. On the not-so-bright side, the Slytherins are doing their best to make her life miserable.
On the bright side, ᴛᴏᴍ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ is a gifted sorcerer with a promising future in magical politics. On the not-so-bright side, purebloods are bigots, and World War II has just begun.
"ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴡ, ʜᴀʀʀʏ, ʟᴇᴛ ᴜꜱ ꜱᴛᴇᴘ ᴏᴜᴛ ɪɴᴛᴏ ᴛʜᴇ ɴɪɢʜᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘᴜʀꜱᴜᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ꜰʟɪɢʜᴛʏ ᴛᴇᴍᴘᴛʀᴇꜱꜱ, ᴀᴅᴠᴇɴᴛᴜʀᴇ."
Chapter Six: Bad Magic
The door of the Leaky Cauldron swung open, letting a gust of the cool morning air into the pub. Harry shivered, drawing his jacket tighter around his shoulders.
"Good morning, Mr. Potter."
Harry nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around to face the person who had appeared behind him — a sneering man dressed in black robes, with an authoritative air about him.
"Good morning," said Harry, frowning slightly. "Sorry, do I know you, sir?"
"No," said the stranger, frowning also. "I am the Potions Master at Hogwarts; Professor Snape."
"Nice to meet you, sir," said Harry, though he still felt very confused. What was a professor doing here?
"I am here to escort you to the train station," answered Professor Snape, as if he had heard Harry's thoughts, this time making no attempt to mask his displeasure. "Unfortunately."
His gaze flickered up to where Ruby was having an animated conversation with a pink-haired witch in scarlet robes.
"I suspect that is your sister?" He sneered. "The troublemaker?"
"I don't know what you mean, sir," Harry responded automatically, intending to head Snape off from any discussion about wrongdoings. "You said that you teach Potions, Professor Snape?"
"Yes. Though I don't expect you to be any good at it." The sneer grew deeper.
"Oh. Is it very difficult, sir?" asked Harry, trying his best not to be insulted. "I had good marks in science and maths and stuff, when we went to Muggle school."
"I am familiar."
"Harry!"
Ruby had come up behind him. "You wouldn't guess who I met! I was talking to an Auror, her name is Tonks and she's so cool—"
She stopped, finally noticing Snape, who had gone quite pale and looked as if he had seen a ghost. Harry watched his sister go stiff, her eyes narrowing instantly.
"Relax," he whispered, but she didn't.
"Who are you?" she snapped.
"My name is Professor Snape," he said, recovering from his (strange, Harry thought) shock. "If you are to attend Hogwarts, I expect you to refer to me as 'Professor' or 'Professor Snape' or 'sir.' Your brother seems to have caught on."
Ruby only relaxed slightly. "Yes, sir," she said, with a cursory sort of politeness. "I suppose you teach at Hogwarts."
"I assume you have packed in advance?" asked Snape. "Gather your things."
Ruby was silent as she and Harry climbed up the stairs to their room, and remained so as she extricated Hephaestus from the tangle of blankets surrounding him.
"I don't like him," she said finally, sneering slightly as she laced up her dirty trainers.
Harry considered this as he coaxed Hedwig into her cage with an owl treat. "I want him to like us, though." So be nice. But Harry knew better than to suggest it out loud.
The trip to King's Cross station was quiet. They got on a regular bus, the twins sitting opposite Snape, who was reading a regular newspaper. The effect was only slightly ruined by Snape's robes, but otherwise, the three of them could pass for perfectly normal.
"Nice owl!" whispered a kid who was sitting a few seats away from Harry, who responded with a small smile.
Once they had arrived at the train station, they followed Snape (who did not once look back to check that his charges were following him) through the crowd, until he stopped abruptly at the barrier between Platform Nine and Ten.
"Follow me," he instructed. Then, with a cursory glance around him to ensure that no one was paying attention, he walked towards the barrier and disappeared into it with a sweep of his robes.
Harry blinked. "Where'd he go?" he asked, his voice coming out as high and panicky as he felt. "Where's Snape? You saw him disappear, too?"
"Yeah," said Ruby, frowning. "More magic."
She stepped closer to the barrier, carefully extending her hand until it brushed the rough brick of the barrier. Frowning deeper, she screwed her eyes shut and pushed a little bit, and the barrier gave way all of a sudden. Ruby giggled, wiggling her fingers around in the cool air of the place behind the barrier.
"It's magic, alright! There's something behind here!"
Together, they closed their eyes and stepped through the barrier, and sure enough, the bright colors and deafening sounds of somewhere else entirely burst all around them.
"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters," said Harry wonderingly, staring at the shiny, scarlet-red train gleaming in the sun, and what seemed like thousands of people jostling each other on the busy platform, dressed in ordinary clothes and wizards' robes alike.
Loads of children... with their parents. Harry drew his shoulders in, suddenly feeling cold.
Professor Snape said nothing as he led them through the jostling crowd and helped them when they found themselves struggling with their luggage.
"I trust that you are capable of boarding the train without incident?"
Ruby nodded, and Harry attempted a cheerful "Thank you, Professor Snape," but he was already out of earshot.
"Come on," said Ruby, "let's get on the train. I think I see Draco Malfoy from Madam Malkin's."
Neither Ruby nor Harry was comfortable with the prospect of having to meet and make friends with other children; especially not the awkwardness that came with making small talk with someone you barely know. They hadn't been allowed to make friends at school (Dudley wouldn't like it, and everyone thought they were weird, anyway), Aunt Petunia always sent them out to weed the garden when Dudley's friends came over (which was fine with them, because it tended to discourage Harry-Hunting, which was a real danger around Dudley's gang), and they spent most of the holidays either in the cupboard under the stairs for using magic on accident, or cooking and cleaning for Aunt Petunia. Uncle Vernon would get angry otherwise.
So, they attempted to find an empty compartment, which was quickly proving to be a difficult task.
"You two!" called an imperious voice. "Yes, you — first-years, come here please."
Harry and Ruby turned to see a red-headed boy wearing a school uniform with a red-and-gold badge pinned onto his chest glaring at them.
"What are you doing wandering around?" he reprimanded. "Haven't you found a compartment yet?"
"No," said Harry quietly. "We don't know who to sit with."
The boy gave him a strange look.
Why don't you two sit with my little brother? He's a first-year, too. He's probably alone, nobody would want to sit with someone looking so moody. My name's Percy Weasley, by the way. Gryffindor Prefect."
Percy, Harry thought, was not doing a good job at all of selling the idea of sitting with his brother.
"Ron!" called Percy as they came to a compartment near the end of the train. "I've found you some other first-years, I know you're in there moping—"
Two boys and a girl goggled at them.
"Oh," said Percy, clearly surprised. "I see you've found a few other students. Well, there's still room."
And with that, he ushered Harry and Ruby into the compartment, shut the door behind them with a pleased hum, and walked off.
There was a moment of awkward silence.
"Nice to meet you," said the girl in a formal voice. Like Percy, she had already changed into her uniform. "I'm Hermione Granger." She offered her hand to Ruby, who shook it cautiously.
"Ruby, uh, Ruby Potter," she mumbled. "Nice to meet you too."
Hermione's eyes widened. "Then you must be Harry Potter!" she exclaimed, grinning at Harry. "I've read all about you, you know — in The Dark Forces, a Guide to Self-Protection. Of course, it doesn't say very much about what you're actually like — or that you have a sister."
"I'm quite boring, really," said Harry, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. He waved shyly at the other two.
"Anthony Goldstein," said the blond one cheerfully.
"Ron Weasley," said the red-haired one, who was holding something brown that squirmed in his hands and did look quite glum. "Percy's brother, unfortunately. Have you got the scar?"
His face burning with sudden embarrassment, Harry lifted up the hair on his forehead to reveal the lightning-shaped scar.
Ron seemed impressed. "Wicked," he said appreciatively. Then, he thrust the squirming brown thing forwards. "This is Scabbers. My pet rat. He's rather useless, isn't he? All he does is eat and sleep. He used to belong to Percy."
He eyed the kitten struggling in Ruby's arms as Scabbers squirmed frantically.
"This is Heph," she said. "Short for Hephaestus."
Ron did not look placated. Hermione and Anthony went back to jabbering on about whatever they were talking about before.
"They're mental," said Ron, aghast. "Blabbering on about the Transfiguration alphabet, or something to that effect. Can't it wait until tomorrow?" He made an annoyed sort of noise.
"Um, Ron," Harry began slowly. "Are all your family witches and wizards?"
Ron nodded. "Except for my mother's second cousin — she's an accountant."
"Then, do you know anything about shadow magic?"
"Shadow magic?" Ron's tone did not sound promising.
"Y-Yeah," Harry stammered, his heart plummeting. "There's magic that makes fire and water and stuff, so I thought, maybe... it's not bad magic, like the kind Lord Voldemort did, is it?"
Anthony and Hermione stopped talking, and Ron gawked at Harry.
"No one says his name," said Anthony, and Harry was suddenly reminded of Hagrid's reluctance.
"All right, You-Know-Who, then," said Ruby. She was frowning again — Harry really wished she wouldn't do it so often. "Is it?"
"Dark magic refers to any type of magic that is mainly used to cause harm to, exert control over, or even kill the victim," Hermione recited. "At least, according to The Dark Forces, a Guide to Self-Protection."
"Okay," said Harry shakily. "So, it is bad or not?"
"Yeah, Dark magic is bad!" Ron protested, as if this was glaringly obvious. "It's what You-Know-Who and all his Death Eaters were into!"
So maybe Uncle Vernon was right. Maybe I am bad.
"But it's powerful, right?" asked Ruby. Both Scabbers and Hephaestus were making valiant attempts to escape from their owners' grasps.
"Yes," said Anthony and Ron at the same time, the latter sounding unequivocally disgusted.
"Just because people are scared of something doesn't mean it's bad," said Ruby. "A lot of Muggles are scared of magic."
"Besides," she whispered to Harry. "Your shadows don't hurt anyone."
"But what about when Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald?" asked Anthony. "He must have used Dark magic — jinxes and hexes and stuff, right?"
"Grindelwald?" asked Ruby, feeling very lost.
"Yeah!" he exclaimed. "Don't you know who he is? Everyone — oh, I forgot, you live with Muggles, don't you? He was a Dark wizard, like You-Know-Who. In, uh—" Anthony scrunched his nose in concentration, "—1945, him and Dumbledore had a legendary duel, and ever since then, Grindelwald's been locked up in Nurmengard Castle. No one ever escapes there. Even when they die, they just leave their corpses to rot away."
He wiggled his fingers like a ghost to enhance the spooky effect.
"It's in the Alps," Hermione supplied. "I read about it. Grindelwald built it himself, apparently."
Ron's eyes had glazed over. "Did you two have a point?" he asked.
"The point is," said Anthony, bouncing excitedly, "that if it was the most legendary duel of all time, both Dumbledore and Grindelwald had to have been using Dark magic, and if Dumbledore used it, it can't be all that bad, can it?"
"Right," said Ron, but he didn't sound quite convinced. Scabbers finally wrested free of Ron's grip. Hephaestus leapt out of Ruby's arms and Harry only barely managed to catch him mid-spring.
"Bloody killing machine," Harry heard Ron mutter under his breath as he recovered the squirming rat.
It was at that moment that the compartment door slid open, causing all five of its inhabitants to look up.
Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, accompanied by a pretty but mean-looking girl and two hulking boys that reminded Harry and Ruby unpleasantly of Dudley Dursley.
"Who are you sitting with, Harry?" asked Malfoy, glancing at Anthony, Ron, and Hermione as if they were a bit of scum on his shoe.
He turned to Ron. "Red hair and hand-me-down clothes?" sniffed Malfoy. "Must be a Weasley."
The two hulking boys chortled.
The girl giggled. "I don't know who the others are, but they can't be anyone important. Especially the girl. Her hair looks like something my cat coughs up."
"The Goldsteins are a good family, Pansy," Malfoy pointed out. "That is, they were, before they started breeding with Muggles. My father says—"
"—Hey, shove off, Malfoy!" snapped Harry, glaring at him. "Stop being mean to my friends!"
Malfoy snorted, crossing him arms. "Your friends, Harry? You might want to think about that more carefully — or, at least, I would if I were you. Look," he said in a very condescending tone, "I know you were brought up by Muggles, so you don't know any better. You have to be very careful who you mix with in the wizarding world. And these are not the right sort."
Harry blinked, his head spinning as he stared back at Malfoy, who was holding out his hand. Pansy and the two hulking boys were laughing at him. Dark splotches were creeping in from the corners of his vision.
Bad. Uncle Vernon was right, you are a freak, and no one likes you.
"Harry?"
Ruby was shaking him, and Malfoy was gone. The other three were peering at him worriedly, and he was staring up at the ceiling.
"What happened?" he asked.
"You went really pale and fainted," Anthony supplied. "And Malfoy left. Are you okay, Harry?"
"Yeah," he said reflexively, pulling himself into a sitting position and trying to ignore his pounding headache.
"I checked your pulse," said Hermione in a helpful tone. "And I know how to do cardiopulmonary resuscitation. You know, it's really irresponsible to have a train full of kids with no adults. What if there's an emergency?"
"He was only out for a few minutes," Ron griped, glaring at her.
"Don't freak out," whispered Ruby. "Please, please don't freak out, but when you fainted, a little bit of dark smoke came out of your mouth. It was just a little. I don't think anyone else noticed, because the lights in the train went out for a second, too."
"Okay," Harry said shakily. Hephaestus head-butted his leg, and Harry let the kitten climb into his lap and curl up.
He tried to focus on the kitten's purring, and the countryside going by outside of the window, but he could not shake the sense of trepidation.
By the time that the Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, had left the first-years standing in a small mob in front of the entrance to the Great Hall, Harry's sense of trepidation had evolved into full-blown nausea.
"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" he asked Ron.
"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."
Somehow, this did not make Harry feel any better. He'd done some bits of freakishness — magic, he reminded himself, at least enough to make Uncle Vernon rage. But he didn't know how to control it. What if he failed the test? What if he didn't belong in any of the Houses? What if he wasn't allowed to stay?
Meanwhile, Hermione was still jabbering on about something — maybe it kept her calm, but Harry found it irritating. Anthony was doing a fantastic imitation of a pufferfish.
Ruby was pacing and muttering under her breath. Many of the other first-years looked equally agitated, although Malfoy and Pansy were whispering to each other and looked quite composed. They must know what the test is already, Harry thought.
After what felt like hours of waiting, Professor McGonagall re-emerged from the Great Hall.
"Now, form a line," she ordered, "and follow me."
Harry took a few deep breaths — not that it would do any good — and followed Anthony as the great oak doors swung open and Professor McGonagall's pointy hat began to move forward.
All of a sudden, there was raucous applause, and they were in a large room filled with hundreds — no, thousands of floating candles, four long tables where students dressed in the same school robes as them were laughing and talking, and another long table on the other side of the room where people who looked like teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall was standing by a shabby old wizard's hat perched on a stool.
Maybe they had to pull a rabbit out of it? That was something that wizards did.
The sounds petered out, and hundreds of candle-lit faces turned to look at the first-years.
"It's the Great Hall!" said Hermione excitedly. "I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."
Hermione was saying something about the ceiling, and Harry looked up to see the star-filled sky above.
"That's not a ceiling," he said. "The roof's open."
"Of course it's a ceiling. It's enchanted to look like the sky!" said Hermione.
"Do you think we'll learn how to do magic like that?" asked Ruby wistfully.
Ron looked rather green. "How do you think they're putting us into Houses?"
Anthony shushed them all very loudly, just as the Hat, to the shock of all the assembled first-years, began to sing in a jolly, rough voice.
"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!"
The entire Great Hall broke out into applause again, and the first-years clapped tentatively.
The Sorting turned out to be a vastly more simple test than anything that the first-years had devised. Each first-year sat on the stool while the Hat was placed on their head. The Hat then called the name of one of the Houses, and the newly-Sorted first-year joined that table.
"So we've just got to put on a hat!" Ron whispered furiously into Harry's ear. Harry flinched. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."
Ruby leaned closer to Ron. "How d'you think the hat can see into your head?"
He shrugged. "There's magic that can see into people's minds. But I've heard it's not very nice to be on the receiving end."
Right now, Harry didn't feel very brave, or witty, or any of those other things that the Hat sang about. If only there was a House for nervous people. That would be perfect for him.
Harry glumly watched Anthony get Sorted into Ravenclaw, Hermione into Gryffindor, and Draco Malfoy into Slytherin.
"Potter, Harry."
Everyone in the Great Hall seemed to swivel around to stare at Harry; he wanted the ground to come up and swallow him. The Great Hall was completely silent except for a few furtive whispers.
Ruby reached out to squeeze his hand.
"Ignore them, just go to the Hat," she whispered.
Harry swallowed, and did just that. Every step seemed to ring out much too loudly, and Harry felt that he might trip on his robes at any possible second as he stumbled forwards through the silent hall.
Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, he thought as he walked towards the stool. He wanted nothing to do with the House that Lord Voldemort and Draco Malfoy belonged to. If there was truly bad magic — Dark magic — he didn't want to have any part of it.
Somehow, Harry had managed to get to the stool without falling flat on his face, and Professor McGonagall lowered the Hat over his head as he sat down. Darkness surrounded him.
Hmm," said a small voice in his ear. Harry jumped. He wondered if everyone else could hear the voice, too.
"Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes — and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting... but, oh… there's something very strange inside of you, Harry Potter. Something buried deep. Where shall I put you?"
Harry thought very hard. "Not Slytherin!"
"Not Slytherin, eh?" said the small voice amusedly. The Hat reminded Harry unpleasantly of Ollivander. He continued to think Not Slytherin.
"Are you sure? You could be great, you know, it's all here in your head, and Slytherin will help you on the way to greatness, no doubt about that — no? Well, if you're sure — better be…
"GRYFFINDOR!" Ruby heard the Hat scream after about a minute of deliberation. The entire Gryffindor table roared out the loudest cheer yet.
"Potter, Ruby!"
Ruby swallowed hard, and walked up to the Hat. She felt nervous and sick. The thought of being Sorted into a different House than Harry hadn't worried her on the train, but now it was a very real possibility.
She steeled herself and sat down on the stool while the Hat was lowered onto her head. Ruby attempted to wipe her clammy hands on her robes, but they were shaking too much.
Gryffindor, please put me in Gryffindor, she thought desperately.
"Hmm, interesting. I don't often get the chance to Sort twins," said a small, peevish voice. "Just as difficult as your brother, I wonder? Curious, very curious. What do we have here? A good deal of bravery, indeed, Gryffindor might do… hmmm, let's have a look… You are cunning, child. There is a cruelty to you. You will do well in…"
The breath caught in her throat.
"SLYTHERIN!"
Professor McGonagall lifted the Hat off of Ruby's head. She looked at Harry for reassurance, and he gave her a tight little nod of support.
She walked stiffly over to the Slytherin table to scattered applause, barely able to believe what had just happened. A girl with two dark pigtails beckoned her over.
"I'm Daphne Greengrass. Pleased to meet you." She extended her hand.
"Ruby Potter. Nice to meet you too," said Ruby, unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice.
Ruby glanced behind her and caught a glimpse of Harry sitting amongst a group of red-haired people and Hermione Granger. She watched Ron get Sorted to Gryffindor — he nearly fainted with relief as Professor McGonagall lifted the Hat off of his head.
Why couldn't the hat have put her in Gryffindor, too?
An old man with a long, white beard — Headmaster Albus Dumbledore — stood up as the Sorting Hat and stool were taken away. He first gave a strange list of instructions: apparently the Forbidden Forest was forbidden, and a certain corridor was off-limits.
"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!"
As he sat down, he whispered something to Professor Snape, while glancing at Ruby. Strange. Though not quite as strange as the nervous, stuttering professor in the turban — Professor Quirrell, who was constantly twitching and looked as if he expected the ceiling to come down on him.
Suddenly, an enormous spread of food appeared on the tables: 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.
Ruby remembered with a nasty shock that Aunt Petunia kept a jar of peppermint humbugs. The bright green candies looked like a coil of dried toothpaste.
There was a jar of peppermint humbugs on the living room table when she killed Uncle Vernon.
He twitched one, two, three — no, she wouldn't think about that. She was at this magic school with Harry, Slytherin or not, and that was the past.
Ruby pressed the heels of her hands against her eyes, trying to block out the memory. Out, out, out.
The food smelled heavenly and Ruby hadn't realized just how hungry she was, but she looked around and realized everyone on the table was eating almost with disdain, as if they were offended that the food had even been provided for them.
These Slytherins were clearly from some kind of posh wizard families. Maybe that was what pure-blood meant.
Whatever they were, it was clear that they wouldn't react well to her eating as quickly and ravenously as she wanted to. That horrible girl from the train, Pansy Parkinson, was staring at her, as if watching for a mistake.
After the feast, the Slytherin first-years were corralled by a girl and a boy who looked about sixteen. The girl had straight black hair clipped back with two pale-green clips on either side of her head, and the boy wore several heavy-looking rings.
"My name is Alastair Montague, and this is Gemma Farley," he said, nodding at the girl. She folded her hands in front of her and began to speak in a formal voice.
"I'm delighted to welcome you all to Slytherin House," she said, turning and gesturing for the first-years to follow them out of the Great Hall.
"Here are a few things you should know about being in Slytherin House, and a few myths you've probably heard on the way here that are completely untrue," Gemma continued as she strode down the hallway.
"You might have heard a rumor that we're all into the Dark Arts. It's complete rubbish. I'm not about to deny that we've produced our fair share of Dark wizards and witches — there's You-Know-Who, for a start — but so have the other three Houses, though they're loath to admit it."
"Furthermore," said Alastair. "Slytherin tends to select students who have come from a long line of witches and wizards — but the times are changing. It's not uncommon for us to have a few half-bloods at any point in time, and we take fair treatment very seriously."
So that was what half-blood and pure-blood meant.
"Thank you for that lead-up, Alastair," said Gemma. "Now, let's talk about why Slytherin House is the greatest of them all."
Ruby saw Draco Malfoy smirk at that comment, and she couldn't help but feel a little bubble of delight too.
"First of all, Slytherins demand respect. So, we have a Dark reputation? You know what? Lean into it. Mention off-hand that some fifth-years taught you a new hex — that'll send any wayward do-gooders on your case running for the hills. But we're not bad people. We're snakes. Dangerous if provoked, powerful, and misunderstood. Slytherins are the best people to have behind you in a fight. We make it our business to protect our own."
They had been going lower and lower in the school, until they were somewhere drafty and cold.
Gemma marched up to a plain-looking door. "Gillyweed," she said, and the door creaked open. "That's the password; it changes every fortnight."
Alastair ushered the first-years inside. "After you. Welcome to Slytherin Dungeon."
Ruby had been expecting a dungeon to be dark and dingy, but this was rather grand, if a bit indulgently gothic. The light in the room had a green tinge, almost as if the dungeon was underwater, and there were lots of luxurious and comfortable-looking black and dark-green leather sofas. The walls were decorated with rich tapestries in shimmering emerald and silver thread, and the stone fireplace flickered with green flames. Students were lounging around and gossiping in quiet tones.
"You know what Salazar Slytherin, the founder of our House, treasured above all?" asked Alastair. He smiled. "The seeds of greatness. You have been chosen to join us because you have the potential to be truly great. All of you. Never forget that."
Honestly, Ruby thought that it was getting a bit over-the-top at this point.
"But we do have a few rules. Number one: if you must break school rules, which we strongly advise against, don't get caught. Number two: look after your own. In-fighting will be punished swiftly and severely. Number three: keep our secrets. Like our password. The Slytherin common room hasn't been entered by an outsider for seven centuries, and we're not about to start now. Number four: don't ask our ghost, the Bloody Baron, about how he got bloodstained. He really doesn't like it."
He turned to Gemma. "Anything else?"
She shook her head. "That's it. Relax, explore the common room, and settle in."
Ruby had been about to follow the rest of the first-years and wander off when Alastair snapped his fingers.
"Potter, stay back for a minute," he said. She stared up at him.
Was she going to get kicked out of Slytherin? Had she done something wrong?
He simply nodded. "Excellent. One for us, one for Gryffindor. Stay out of trouble, Potter."
Gemma pursed her lips. "We'd hoped to get Harry. Oh well."
"You knew we were coming?"
"Obviously." Gemma rolled her eyes. "What do you take us for, Hufflepuffs?"
"You're excused, Potter," said Alastair. "Go mingle with the other first-years."
But Ruby wasn't done. "Why did you want both of us in Slytherin?" she asked. "Why does it matter to you?"
Gemma and Alastair looked at each other, as if what she had asked had crossed some kind of unspoken line.
"Well, to find out what everyone wants to know," Alastair finally said in low, reverent voice. "How he defeated Lord Voldemort. He must be a great Dark wizard. And you, Potter, can tell us all about him."
Endnotes:
aka why Snape delivers the twins to King's Cross.
The Mrs. Weasley talking very loud about Muggles and Platform 9 and 3/4 scene is often used in Weasley/Dumbledore bashing stories, since the thinking is that she's doing it for Harry's benefit. (And to be 100% clear, this is not one of those).
While I don't have an official opinion on that theory, personally, I think outside of canon it's exposition as dialogue and that's why it feels so unnatural, and just decided to skip the whole thing, because Snape being uncomfortable around the twins and Percy being peak annoying big brother popped into my head as I was redrafting this chapter, and the last thing I want to do with this fic is rehash canon, since everyone's read the classic 'Neville's lost his toad, what House are we going to be in, etc' loads of times, I felt like doing something different and instead lean into the characterizations I've been setting up, so... here we are.
Anyhow, Chapter 7 is Tom's POV. There will be purebloods, hypocrisy, drama, and plotting revenge.