AN

Children? What are you talking about, I don't see any children here. I don't know how to write children. Didn't know that was a thing that existed.

1991, 1st year

"Before you all go off to do homework or who knows what," Rhea spoke up during lunch on their first Saturday, "I think we should all return to the common room to have an important discussion that's long overdue."

Draco looked at her as if she had grown a second head for a brief moment, before regaining control over his facial expression. "Are you implying what I think you are?"

"Obviously, yes."

"You of all people are suggesting that we talk about politics?"

Rhea gave him an unimpressed look that seemed uncharacteristically serious for her standards. "Why, of course, I am. But we better not get into the particulars right here where anyone can listen in, hm? But, really, I've been reading the cards and it's not something we should be putting off much longer."

Harry didn't know what she meant with that last sentence, but he had an inkling about what was to come and wasn't surprised when the discussion started safely behind the walls of the Slytherin Common Room turned out to be about their House's internal hierarchy.

"Frankly speaking," Rhea began, after they had all settled down around one of the fireplaces, "I don't care much for having authority, so I'm ceding to whoever comes next. I believe that would be Theo as the older one between you," she said looking at Draco and Theodore.

"No, thank you," Theodore declined politely.

"Well," Draco said imperiously. "Then it seems the responsibility falls unto me. And I, for one, shall gladly take it."

Rhea nodded, completely disregarding the arrogant smirk he directed at her. "Then that's one thing out of the way and you may take over the discussion now."

Harry could see Draco's smirk faltering momentarily, but he caught himself even faster this time. This was something Harry still had to master, himself – learning to control his body language. According to Daphne, he currently was 'like an open book'.

"May I ask," Tracey interjected, "how the hierarchy is determined?"

"By blood, of course," Draco sneered. "Do yourself a favour and look up the Sacred Twenty-Eight. As written by Theodore's ancestor, only twenty-eight British families remain that are of true pure blood." He cut his derisive gaze to Millicent. "Although the list has unfortunately diminished in recent years."

"The Sacred Twenty-Eight are further divided into ranks depending on their ancestry and magical prowess," Theodore continued, "Of the top three, two have sadly died out and only the Lémures remain. Following these are the Blacks – a dying bloodline, unfortunately, the Malfoys, the Notts, and the Ollivanders."

"And then the rest," Daphne said.

"There are still differences among the rest," Draco sneered. "You wouldn't consider yourself on par with a Weasley, now, would you?"

"Of course not."

"Does that answer your question?" Daphne asked Tracey.

Tracey nodded. "And what is this hierarchy needed for, if I may ask? Here at Hogwarts, in particular."

"It helps with Slytherin's rules," Harry said quietly, resisting the urge to duck his head when everyone turned to him. "Especially when it comes to keeping internal conflicts … er, internal, so to speak."

"Obviously." Draco nodded. "It is now my responsibility to ensure none of you start a fight in public."

"What if you get into an argument with someone?"

"I shall endeavour not to."

Blaise snickered. "Rhea can always whack him over the head."

"Sure thing," Rhea replied, unconcerned.

Draco's expression slipped once more at that and Harry thought he caught a glimpse of actual fear on the boy's face.

"So it's fair game behind closed doors?" Tracey asked.

Draco, for what might have been the first time, actually turned to properly face her and narrowed his eyes. "Are you already planning something?"

"We are the House of the Ambitious, aren't we? Slytherins are said to do anything to reach their goals. So it'd make sense that we'd even throw our own housemates under the bus, if necessary."

Pansy let out a disbelieving 'hah' at that and turned to sneer at her. "As if some half-blood could actually manage that."

Tracey raised her eyebrows at Pansy. "Watch me."

"Or we could simply stay out of each other's way," Daphne interjected.

"Well," Blaise said lightly, "there's still the unspoken elephant in the room." He looked straight at Harry.

Harry blinked.

"Oh, yes," Draco said, leaning forward in his seat. "How did you defeat the Dark Lord? They say it must have been incredibly dark magic. If you're planning to follow in the Dark Lord's footsteps, we would certainly like to know."

Harry had heard about those rumours. At the latest, he would have heard all about them the moment he stepped outside the Slytherin Common Room for the first time, because his Sorting had only served to give more fuel to them.

Taking a deep breath to gather his courage, Harry looked Draco straight in the eyes and said, "You do know that I am a half-blood, yes?"

"That doesn't answer my question."

"So if I were, hypothetically, planning on becoming a Dark Lord, you would ignore my blood status in favour of allying yourself with me?"

"There are always exceptions. If you prove yourself powerful enough, then I don't see a problem. Besides," Draco sniffed. "While pure blood is superior, the biggest problem lies in the decline of our traditions as a consequence of mudbloods and blood traitors forcing us to change our ways in favour of the Muggles."

Harry barely held back the 'what' trying to escape his mouth. There had been mentions of magical traditions in the books he had read, but not even Severus had ever told him about any. Or celebrated them. But Severus hardly celebrated anything, so that wasn't exactly relevant.

"I never understood that," Daphne said. "Why would we want to celebrate the birth and rebirth of Jesus Christ instead of the winter solstice and spring equinox? It doesn't make any sense. There's no magic to be found there."

Pansy scoffed. "Ask Dumbledore."

"As long as no one gets rid of the Samhain celebrations, I can't say I mind," Rhea said, who was now lounging in her armchair rather than sitting properly, ignoring the pointed looks Draco, Pansy and Daphne were giving her. "Even if they call it Halloween these days."

"Of course, you would say that," Draco grouched. "Your family probably doesn't even celebrate anything other than Samhain in the first place."

Rhea gave him one of her eerie smiles. "Got me there."

To Draco's credit, he didn't flinch.

"We have seven years before us yet," Daphne said. "I think, as long as we all agree to be reasonable about any problems we might have with each other and perhaps ask first before going behind anyone's back, we will be fine for the time being. All else will be problems that are going to be out of our hands anyway and that is what the prefects and our Head of House are for." She looked around. "So unless there are any questions left to clear up, I suggest we end it here. Personally, I still have homework I would like to get done in a timely manner and don't see any reason the waste any more time on this."

There was a murmur of agreement and a round of nods.

"In that case," Rhea said, swinging herself out of her armchair and patting invisible dust off her robes, "I'm off to water my pet rock."

Harry decided not to question that, but watching her flounce out of the common room, he wondered why she hadn't asked anyone to accompany her despite the 'no going out on your own' rule. Thinking back on the way most people always gave her a wide berth in the corridors, he supposed she would probably be fine.

o

"Because putting us together with those imbecile Gryffindors for Potions wasn't bad enough already," Pansy sneered, "they now have to ruin Flying Lessons, too."

"You would expect the teachers to not pair the two Houses that publicly loathe each other for the most dangerous classes," Daphne commented.

"Shows you how competent they are."

"Well, Professor Snape certainly did not make that decision."

"Makes one wonder who did and why."

There was a pause and then several people all at once said, "Dumbledore."

The announcement about the first-years' flying lessons seemed to spur everyone on to talk about their personal histories with flying – Draco in particular had quite the adventures to tell, not that Harry believed most of them to be true – and Quidditch. Lots and lots of Quidditch. Draco wasn't even a special case, for several Gryffindors and one particular Hufflepuff boasted of similar adventures and narrow escapes.

Harry already dreaded the flying lessons for several reasons. First and foremost, because he had never flown before, let alone actually held a flying broomstick. (Severus didn't own any and didn't see the need to buy one and Harry had never seen any reason to ask for one, either.) Harry neither wanted to make a fool of himself, nor hurt himself trying not to. A week ago, the latter wouldn't have been a concern, but he had seen how the adults at Hogwarts handled things and learned quickly that the only one he could trust to be reliable – from what he had observed so far – was Severus. Maybe Professor McGonagall, too, but Harry wasn't sure about that, yet.

Harry's concerns were proven to be very valid indeed during the first flying lesson, because Neville Longbottom managed to land himself in the Hospital Wing before anyone had even been allowed in the air and all Madam Hooch, their teacher, had done as a panicked Neville Longbottom had risen higher and higher, was yelling for him to come back instead of actually doing anything about it – like, for example, stopping his ascend and helping him down – or at least slow his fall. The woman was a witch, for goodness' sake! Magic was a readily available resource! Surely there were numerous spells that could have prevented Neville Longbottom from crashing down and breaking his wrist and an instructor for Flying Lessons should know those!

Harry was still staring incredulously at Madam Hooch's retreating back, barely believing that the woman had decided to leave a group of Slytherins and Gryffindors – the two Houses known to loathe each other – unsupervised with flying broomsticks. She could have just sent another student with Neville Longbottom or had someone retrieve another teacher or something, like Severus had done when Neville Longbottom had managed to melt his cauldron during their first Potions lesson.

Unsurprisingly, a commotion had already broken out by the time Harry's focus returned to his surroundings.

Draco was holding a large marble filled with white smoke. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's grandmother sent him."

Harry glanced left and right and deemed Daphne safe enough to ask about it.

"It's a Remembrall," she replied quietly. "Not particularly helpful of an item, because it doesn't actually tell you what you've forgotten."

"I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to collect," Draco was saying, smirking.

"What is he doing?" Harry asked, aghast.

"Riling up the Gryffindors, obviously," Blaise said, leaning over Harry's shoulder. "If you want him to stop, you just need to tell him. He wouldn't risk antagonising one of us over such a small thing."

"And what if he decides he'd rather rile them up more than listen to me?"

Blaise smirked and jerked his chin in Rhea's direction. "I'm sure Rhea would love to help out."

Harry would rather not ask Rhea, but he didn't feel brave enough to speak up against Draco, either.

Next to them, Daphne let out a sigh and then stepped forward, interrupting the argument between Hermione Granger and some redhead about breaking school rules by loudly exclaiming, "What a disgrace. No need to bother, Draco." She gave the Gryffindors an impressively condescending look. "They clearly don't care about Longbottom enough to look after his belongings. What lovely housemates he has."

Draco arched an eyebrow at her, then glanced past her at where Harry was standing with Blaise still leaning over his shoulder.

"You are right," he said to Daphne and then turned back to the Gryffindors, sneer back in place. "Some friends you are." He tossed the Remembrall in their general direction and then turned his back on them, clearly not caring whether anyone would catch it.

"Or let Daphne handle it," Blaise said, sounding pleased.

"Next time," Daphne told Harry when she returned, "you know how to deal with it, yourself."

Harry smiled wanly at her and simply said, "Thank you."

Madam Hooch thankfully returned before another fight could break out, though it was a near thing if the furious glares the Gryffindors were sending their way were anything to go by.

The lesson went almost smoothly after that.

To Harry's immense relief, flying was actually fairly simple. Looking at the others, it seemed as if Harry even had an innate talent for it. A talent great enough to make even Draco jealous. Which was not necessarily a good thing, but Harry was too busy whooping internally with joy at being able to fly to worry about it.

"You should try out for Quidditch next year," Draco grouched during dinner. "But don't think I will give up becoming Seeker for you!"

Harry blinked at him. "I wasn't planning to?"

"Good!"

Truthfully, Harry wasn't planning on joining the Quidditch Team at all. While Harry enjoyed flying immensely, playing Quidditch was a different matter altogether. Even if the rules had made any sense and the duration and outcome of the game weren't entirely dependent on catching a small, golden ball called the Snitch – which kind of made the Chasers scoring goals with the Quaffle rather redundant – there were still the bloody Bludgers to deal with.

The first time Harry had discovered that there were balls specifically meant to knock players off their brooms, he had gone to Severus to ask if this was seriously part of the most popular sport in the magical world. Severus had told him that, yes, the Bludgers were part of every game and just as deadly as he thought they were, and that this told Harry exactly what the magical community was like and he shouldn't expect anyone to be in any capacity reasonable about such things as personal safety.

Remembering Hogwarts' numerous staircases with their bloody vanishing steps, Harry could see exactly what Severus had meant by that.

"There are better sports than Quidditch," Daphne said.

Draco rolled his eyes at her. "I don't consider dancing a proper sport."

"It is quite fun, though," Rhea commented, not bothering to take her eyes off of whatever she was observing at the head table. (Harry followed her gaze and couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.)

Daphne did not roll her eyes at Draco, but her expression told everyone exactly what she thought about that statement. "And equestrian sports? What about those?"

"Well, those are clearly a form of art to be appreciated. Wouldn't you agree, Theo?"

Theodore didn't even glance up from the book he was reading (which appeared to be entirely in Greek, if Harry wasn't mistaken) and made a vaguely agreeing noise.

Harry took that to mean that both Draco and Theo were into equestrian sports. He could actually picture Draco looking down on everyone from the high back of a horse, looking like the prince he thought he was meant to be. Theo, on the other hand, didn't seem the type – but Harry barely knew him, so who was he to judge that?

"Speaking of which," Pansy spoke up, "will the Malfoys host another horse show next summer?"

"That's still months away. What do you care for horse shows, anyway?"

"It's always good to know such things in advance." Pansy gave him a meaningful look. "One needs to prepare accordingly, after all. Besides, I heard rumours that the Smiths might be planning one and I know the Rosiers have been eyeing the opportunity to host a social event of their own for a while, now."

"The Malfoys definitely could afford to leave some of the social season's events to other houses," Daphne commented. "After all, the Yule Ball has always been undisputedly their honour."

Draco shrugged imperviously. "I don't see anyone taking up the Black's Summer Ball, so I don't understand why we shouldn't host whichever event we want to host."

Harry listened to their discussion about social events for a little longer, wondering if he would ever be required to attend one. He hoped not. He had no idea what was required for such events – what to wear, how to behave, what to expect. Harry also didn't know anything about horses. Or balls. Or dancing. Yeah, he would definitely make a fool out of himself, if it came down to it. Better hope to never have to face such a situation in the first place.