Chapter 2: Tension

The prefects were waiting for the first years just before breakfast. It helped that Harry woke up early, so he was used to waking up early and showering not in front of his other classmates. He noticed that his own clothes (not robes) but clothes were not like everyone else's. He was sitting on the couches looking at books before leaving with his first years. It was nice that the perfects were waiting for them.

Harry didn't expect the next day to hear whispers about him or that students would point at him.

Also, it didn't help that the Gryffindors were glaring at him because of where he got sorted.

He felt nervous about the classes and didn't like feeling out of place. Hogwarts seemed to magnify it because everywhere he went, he saw students who would point at him. He heard some of the students spreading word that he was Harry Potter.

The Gryffindors, in particular, made no secret of their disdain. Ron Weasley was the most vocal. Harry felt sad for losing his first friend on the train, all because of the color of his tie and which house he sorted to.

He heard Ron loudly stating something about him while walking to a class in the hallway. He was going to History of Magic. Harry had no idea where the Gryffindors were going, but he could hear Ron muttering loudly to another Gryffindor classmate (Seamus Finnegan), "Look at him," pointing towards Harry, "Best he thinks he's so special, doesn't he, just because he's famous Harry Potter."

Harry tried ignoring everyone whispering about him because he didn't want this attention, but it was hard to hear the first person he made friends with was commenting rudely about him.

"He's probably best mates with Malfoy now," Ron muttered later on, but loud enough for his classmates to hear it as well, "I bet he talks about how much he wants to do something evil."

"Shut up, Weasley!" someone yelled at him in the hallway. Harry just clenched his jaw and tried focusing on going to his classes. Eventually, Harry wanted to punch Ron or other Gryffindors out because they were calling him the next Dark Lord. All because he killed somebody when he was a baby. Harry doesn't have what all his classmates have, which were having parents. He wants to have them back. Sadly, he doesn't have the power to go back in time to change that.

Sometimes, Harry wishes that he had that power. By the end of the week, Harry's patience was worn thin because he's not pals with Malfoy or any of his other classmates, and he's just tired of hearing rude comments from students who don't know him.

At least it was Friday, and Harry was looking forward to having his Potions class and meeting up with Hagrid after classes.

The dungeon was even colder than the rest of the castle, and the jars lining the walls seemed to glisten ominously in the dim light. Harry noticed the tension from the Gryffindors and Slytherins and how the houses were not intermixing with other students. He sat next to a classmate that wouldn't bother him, which was Theodore Nott. At least Theodore has been quiet and not bothering him whatsoever. They both sat in the middle of the classroom silently.

Across the classroom in the dungeon, he saw that Ron was sitting next to another classmate (Dean Thomas), where he learned next to him, to "whisper" loudly about Harry, "I bet Snape's going to let Potter off easy; after all, Slytherins always get special treatment." Harry saw another Gryffindor girl (Hermione Granger) trying to shush Weasley. His classmate next to him didn't respond, but he could see a frown on his face suggesting maybe not all Gryffindors were in agreement with what he was saying.

Harry felt uncomfortable; he felt his stomach feeling agitated because he didn't know how Professor Snape would be and didn't know what Weasley was talking about.

And then Professor Snape appeared after the girl was trying to shush Weasley.

"Silence," Professor Snape's voice cut through the room to all the students to understand that class was starting.

The room fell quiet while Professor Snape's dark gaze swept over the students; he looked at everyone, and his eyes lingered on Harry for a moment before moving on.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," Professor Snape began, his tone cold and precise. "As there is little foolish wand-waving in this class, many of you will no doubt find it difficult."

Harry started to write down the lecture that Professor Snape was providing, and then he heard Professor Snape call on him.

"Potter," he said suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry's heart sank; he had read the textbook in the summer, but he forgot to review it and was preoccupied with just surviving this week.

"I—I don't know, sir," he stammered.

Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Clearly. Fame isn't everything, is it, Mr. Potter?"

He can hear a ripple of laughter spreading through the room, mostly from the Slytherin side of the room and a few Gryffindors. Ronald snickered the loudest. Harry felt his cheeks burn while avoiding looking at everyone.

Harry just decided to be quiet for the rest of Potions class, where Professor Snape moved on to ask other students other questions. He was able to do the potions activity while Professor Snape berated the Gryffindor side of the room. It seems like a Gryffindor classmate stirred the potions incorrectly and got landed in the hospital.

Harry can hear Professor Snape berating Ronald Weasley and taking points off from Gryffindor.

After hanging out with Hagrid, who had a dog to pet as well (that didn't chase him like Aunt Marge's dogs), Harry returned to the Slytherin's dorms. He couldn't decide what was more annoying to him, the Gryffindors glaring at him or the Slytherins scrutinizing him like an interesting puzzle they were trying to solve.

He decided to sit near the chairs by the fireplace and stare into the fire. The other first-years had either gone to bed or elsewhere, and the older students were clustered in groups, talking and laughing while ignoring him. Harry once again felt sick to his stomach; he felt upset. He wanted to belong somewhere, and he felt isolated.

By Friday evening, Harry was sitting alone in the Slytherin common room, staring into the fire. The other first-years had gone to bed, and the older students were

"Potter."

Harry looked up to see Daphne Greengrass standing nearby. She crossed her arms, her expression unreadable.

"Hmm?" He responded, not sure why his classmate came next to him.

Daphne raised an eyebrow. "I wanted to give some advice about Weasley: you're better off ignoring him since he's jealous of you."

"Jealous of what?" Harry asked, frowning.

Daphne shrugged. "You. You're famous, and he's, well, he's not. People like that can't stand being overshadowed."

Harry stared at her confusingly. "You think he hates me because I'm famous?"

"I think he hates you because you're not doing what he expects," Daphne said simply. "People don't like it when things don't fit their little boxes."

Harry didn't know how to respond to that, so he didn't. Instead, he looked back at the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows across his face.

"Just don't let it get to you," Daphne added after a moment. "We're Slytherins. We don't waste time worrying about what other people think."

With that, she walked away, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

For the first time, he wondered if being in Slytherin wasn't just about ambition or cunning. Maybe it was about something else, like surviving.