Unexpected Consequences

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/15753381.

Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen
Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Relationship: Harry Potter & Severus Snape
Characters: Harry Potter, Severus Snape, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Student(s), Albus
Dumbledore, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Sirius Black, Hogwarts
Staff, Remus Lupin, The Weasleys, Blaise Zabini, Hogwarts Students
Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Slytherin Harry Potter,
Resorting, Alternate Hogwarts House Sorting
Language: English
Collections: C’s Favorite HP Fanfics, Harry Potter Fanfic Must Reads, HP fics I keep
coming back to, hp stories, My Favourites to read, Hpficssssssss, My
Drarry Favorites, Trying to keep track of what I read: A collection, the
graveyard of unfinished stories, 2022*, Lyrane’s treasure trove, Must
Read Harry Potter, Legendary Fanfiction, my heart is here, Praised be the
world in its never-ending creation., Fanfics I Wish Were Canon 3000,
Re-Sorting fics, the random collection, Harry and Co, Platonic HP Fics,
To read soon
Stats: Published: 2018-08-21 Updated: 2021-09-20 Words: 52,025 Chapters:
11/?
 Unexpected Consequences
by Siebenschlaefer

Summary

The Ministry letter after the Dementor attack has far greater consequences than everybody
could have anticipated and at the start of his fifth year in Hogwarts Harry has to be sorted
again. And this time there is no negotiating with the Sorting Hat.
 Consequences of a Ministry Letter
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: I do not claim anything in the Harry Potter universe as mine.

Warnings: Severus & Harry guardianship or mentorship, child abuse, bullying

AN: I should not start another story while working on my other two. But I really like
resorting stories and this plot bunny really did not want to leave me alone. I wrote it
down and left it for weeks.

But it always came back and distracted me from my other fics. So, it grew, till I decided
that I could at least publish the first chapter, to see how it will be received. As I am
really don’t know where this story will go (the background story is settled, but the main
plot not) I will keep the right to change warnings etc when needed.
This story is not my priority in the moment, so updates will be slow and irregular but I
really wanted the plot bunny out of my head.

I am grateful for questions, remarks, grammar and spelling corrections message.

This is now beta’ed by the brilliant Vichan and Cameron Lindsey, many many
thanks and hugs to them. We will go over the already published chapters and then
hopefully new ones will be coming!

Have fun reading.

Let’s start the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry Potter thought that his summer had finally taken a turn for the better. He had survived
the Dementor attack, the shock from the Ministry letters, and the punishment from his Uncle
and Aunt for nearly losing Dudley’s soul – which would have been an improvement to his
character, in Harry’s opinion.

Vernon had been outraged because Petunia hadn’t allowed him to throw Harry out after the
letter from Dumbledore. Vernon normally preferred to use his fists, but for the first time since
Harry started Hogwarts he had reached for the belt and had gotten even more furious when
Harry’s blood wound up on it.

As if I could have avoided it, Harry thought darkly, wincing as he felt the half-healed welts on
his back sting with every move he made.
And even after Dementors had shown up on Privet Drive, Dumbledore hadn’t decided to let
Harry leave, but had left him there for another four days. It had been four long days locked in
his room, complete with daily thrashings from Uncle Vernon and the bare minimum amount
of food. By the fourth day, Harry had almost been wishing for a Death Eater attack.

Finally, someone arrived to get him. His relief had been quickly replaced by anger as he was
confronted with the fact that his friends had been with his godfather since early summer. The
entire time he had been stuck at the Dursleys, alone, with their unhelpful and uninformative
letters, they had been at Grimmauld Place. That hadn’t played out nicely.

Harry’s frustration and anger were overwhelming. He was beyond frustrated at being left
with the Dursleys, as well as the utter lack of information. The injustice of it all made him
want to scream in fury. Without him they wouldn’t even know that Voldemort was back.
Harry was the one who had been tortured and had to fight for his life. And his reward? Being
stuck with the Dursleys.

His lightning bolt scar tingled and prickled with pain on a daily basis, which also hadn’t
helped to lighten his mood. His nights were filled with nightmares. He had barely slept more
than three or four hours a night since coming back for the summer holidays.

To add insult to injury, when he had arrived at Grimmauld Place he hadn’t even seen
Dumbledore himself. It seemed being attacked by Dementors, nearly being expelled from
Hogwarts, and summoned to a disciplinary hearing wasn’t worth his personal presence or any
reassurance.

It was no wonder that Harry was in a dark mood and particularly bitter with Dumbledore.
Yes, he had been at the trial and Harry was sure that without Dumbledore they would have
found him guilty, but to his confusion and growing irritation, Dumbledore had not once
looked at him or spoken with him.

He felt abandoned and tossed aside, like he was nothing more than a tool which had lost its
usefulness.

The bullshit with the Daily Prophet - how they had painted him as a lunatic - only added fuel
to the fire. Harry wasn’t sure if he had felt anything other than acerbic anger for a while now.

But this - this was the icing on top of the cake.

It had started with the arrival of the annual Hogwarts letters on the last day of August. With
the excitement that Ron had been made prefect, it had gone overlooked for a few moments
that there wasn’t a letter for Harry.

Everyone was confused, until Professor McGonagall had come through the fireplace with a
letter in hand. It was addressed to Harry, in the typical green ink with the Hogwarts seal on it.
McGonagall hadn’t said anything but simply waved at him to open it.

The content confused Harry even more. It was the same letter he had received in first year,
only with the fifth-year book list:
 Dear Mr. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft
and Wizardry…

A letter of acceptance? Harry gave his head of house a questioning look.

“Am I understanding you correctly, Professor, that due to the over-enthusiastic Ministry, I
really was falsely recorded as guilty before I even had my trial?” Harry snarled, looking at
Professor McGonagall in exasperation, who was sitting with him at the kitchen table.

“Mr. Potter, due to the exceptional circumstances I will overlook the tone, but I recommend
that you attempt to control your anger,” Professor McGonagall said patiently. “And to answer
your question - yes, that is exactly what has happened. The fact is that someone put your
breach of the Degree for the Reasonable Restriction of Underage Sorcery due to performing a
Patronus charm in a Muggle-inhabited area and in the presence of a Muggle down as a
conviction. Instead of merely showing that you had been charged, that conviction declared
you guilty”

“But that doesn’t even make sense! Dudley is my cousin, he already knows about magic,”
Harry grumbled under his breath, which McGonagall thankfully ignored.

“The penalty for such an offence is the snapping of the wand and expulsion from Hogwarts.
This was revised shortly after due to the interference from the Headmaster. Unfortunately, in
this short time, the data bank of the jurisdiction registered you as convicted and updated the
Hogwarts book of students, deleting your name from the list of students currently in
attendance and adding it to the list of expelled students.”

“And this can’t be reversed?” Harry felt a little lightheaded.

“No, the systems are magically connected, and everything is automatically updated.”
McGonagall answered.

“So…” Harry did not know what he wanted to say.

“As you were acquitted at the trial, the expulsion was void. But it can’t simply be reversed.
Make no mistake, Mr. Potter, you are listed as a Hogwarts student. But you are not on the list
of Gryffindor students. The magic of the book put you down as an unsorted student, like the
first years. As the magic of the student book doesn’t allow a sorting outside of the school
year, we have to wait until September first to get you sorted again.” McGonagall stood up,
signalling that their conversation was about to come to an end. “I will take you aside when
you arrive at Hogwarts. In the presence of the four Head of Houses and the Headmaster we
will get you sorted - privately. Then you can join your friends at the Gryffindor table.”

It sounded like McGonagall was sure that Harry would be in Gryffindor again, which is
exactly why Harry was filled with an odd mixture of terror and fury.

It was exhausting.
“That is everything as of today, Mr. Potter. You will be informed if something changes. I wish
you a good day, and pray you enjoy the remainder of your summer holidays. We will see each
other on the first of September.” McGonagall nodded to him and left through the fireplace.

Harry stood and walked upstairs - avoiding the room he and Ron shared - and went to the
Black library instead. It still had not been cleaned out even though Harry spent a lot of his
time there since arriving from Privet Drive. The room was dark, dusty and perfect for some
solitude. Harry slipped inside, closed the door behind him and settled in an old armchair.
Worry squeezed his stomach.

Harry wasn’t so sure that the hat would sort him in Gryffindor this time around. The hat had
been quite insistent that he belonged in Slytherin the first time, and Harry had argued with it
until it had finally put him in Gryffindor. Harry had a terrible premonition that there would be
no negotiating with the sorting hat again.

The uncertainty made him uneasy, and just a little queasy.

Harry had always known that he possessed Slytherin traits. It was impossible to grow up with
the Dursleys without developing some cunning, not if one was to evade Vernon’s worst
moods.

His previous Hogwarts years and all the adventures they had had not diminished those traits.

In first year he had been happy but anxious to be sorted into Gryffindor with Ron. Harry
hadn’t been sure if he would fit in or not. He knew already from primary school that his
homelife wasn’t the same as other kids. He was not stupid - quite the contrary - and by the
time he was five years old he had realized that the way the Dursleys did some things were
definitely not normal.

He had observed the other kids in his dormitory and his house in order to adapt his behaviour,
copying their mannerisms, trying to do what seemed to be expected of a typical Gryffindor.
He didn’t want to attract attention to his homelife.

It had been hard in the beginning. Harry had never been a loud or bold child like the majority
of the Gryffindors. But he had learned, and he had played his part very well.

He had to play the part. He had known what was expected of him the moment he learned
magic was real, when Hagrid had told him, full of awe and excitement, about Harry’s fame.

The wizarding world expected a brave, cheeky and chivalric Gryffindor hero. They expected
the Boy-Who-Lived and Harry made certain that they got what they wanted.

He had developed a routine which made it possible to hide the more prominent evidence that
not everything was as everyone believed in the homelife of the Boy-Who-Lived.

He never showered with anyone else, always going before or after all the others. He always
slept with the curtains closed and silencing charms, which he had learned in his first weeks at
Hogwarts, around his bed. He never changed in front of his roommates or his Quidditch
teammates. He was careful to wear a few layers of clothing, first because the castle was
always cold and Harry was always freezing, and second to hide his too thin figure.

The Gryffindors had accepted and never questioned his behaviour. But what would happen if
he really was sorted into another house?

His stomach twisted with worry.

This whole mess had started on the second of August, with the Dementor attack and the
letters from the Ministry. Who could have predicted they would have such unexpected
consequences? Harry remembered the moments after the attack quite clearly… his initial
panic over the expulsion, Petunia’s shaken expression, and Vernon’s terrifying fury. The rest
of that evening had been filled with pain.

Harry took in a deep, shaky breath, and glanced around the Black library for something to
distract him from the memory of Vernon’s belt. He stood and went to one of the walls of
shelves, which were full of books Dumbledore surely wouldn’t approve of and Harry hadn’t
dared to open before.

Another wave of anger swept through Harry at the thought of Dumbledore, and Harry
plucked a book off the shelf just to spite the headmaster.

A few hours later Harry walked into the kitchen to find everyone already seated at the table.
As he sat down next to Ron, the others looked at him expectantly.

“So what did Professor McGonagall want? And why did she bring your letter personally?”
Ron was the one to voice the question everyone wanted to ask, while Mrs. Weasley placed
plates and bowls full of food on the table. Ron’s tone was carefully casual. Everyone was still
wary of Harry’s temper after his explosion shortly after arriving at Grimmauld Place.

“They discovered that the whole situation with the warning letters from the Ministry and the
trial had further consequences,” Harry explained.

“What consequences?” Sirius enquired. Harry had the suspicion that his godfather was not as
happy as the others that he had been declared innocent. But Harry could also chalk that up to
his imagination, influenced by his overall gloomy mood.

Harry sighed but decided to explain. “Someone in the ministry put my use of the Patronus
charm down as a conviction and not a charge -”

“But this would mean you were guilty, and you hadn’t even had your trial at this point!”
Hermione interrupted. “And the punishment for that is being expelled from Hogwarts and
your wand being snapped!”

Harry looked at her, slightly annoyed. “Yes, I know. Dumbledore -”

“Professor Dumbledore,” Hermione corrected him, and Harry glared.

“Dumbledore got them to change that. But in the time between the first and second letters, I
was convicted. The book that keeps track of every Hogwarts student erased my name from
the student population. Something about magical updates and so on.” Hermione opened her
mouth to interrupt again but stopped at a fierce look from Harry.

“The expulsion can’t be reversed, though since I was declared innocent I was put back in the
book as a Hogwarts student, but like a first year - unsorted. At the start of the new school
year, I will be sorted again.” He saw Fred and George exchange worried glances.

Sirius looked rather grim, as he always did when the end of the summer and Hogwarts were
mentioned. Harry could somehow understand this, when they left his godfather would be all
alone in this dark and depressing house, which was full of bad memories for him. It was
similar to Harry’s situation with the Dursleys, but there he at least was allowed to go outside -
at least most of the time.

Sirius was at that moment the only person that Harry felt could understand his anger at the
whole situation, which helped him feel connected to his godfather. But he had at least hoped
that Sirius would be happy for him not to be expelled.

Ron shrugged. “That’s it? That’s the reason you were brooding and moping for the last
couple hours?” he said in disbelief. “Come on, Harry - you know that they will sort you right.
The hat will declare you as a Gryffindor and everything will be like it should be. What are
you so worried about?”

Mrs. Weasley nodded at this and set a pot with steamed carrots and a plate of mashed
potatoes in front of Harry. “Eat, Harry. You still look peaky.”

Harry didn’t say anything more, he simply shrugged and put a small portion of food on his
plate and slowly started eating. If Ron only knew.

Harry spent the rest of the day in the library. Thankfully the others had learned to leave him
alone when he was in a particularly dark mood, which had been more often than not over the
course of the summer. The worry of his upcoming sorting wasn’t dissipating. It was far worse
than the anxiety he had felt over his sorting in first year.

The difference was that now he knew what awaited him, which made it all the worse.

The probability of his being placed somewhere other than Gryffindor was actually quite high.
If anything, his time at Hogwarts had fostered and encouraged some of his more Slytherin
traits.
Harry was no fool and with his typical Potter luck, he would be sleeping in the same dorm as
Draco Malfoy for the next three years. Wouldn’t that be fun?

So he decided it better to be safe than sorry and prepare for the worst.

He had already spent much of his time in the Black library since he arrived at Grimmauld
Place. He had felt completely helpless in the graveyard and when he thought back to all the
dangerous situations, he had found himself in Hogwarts, he had realized that there had been
too many times when he couldn’t defend himself. It was time to study on his own.

The vast and old library helped tremendously. Harry devoured books about protection spells
and wards and tried to read ahead for Defence against the Dark Arts.

After Ron and even Hermione complained that he sometimes disappeared for hours, Harry
tried to spend time with them, but he felt somehow separated from his best friends.

The return of Voldemort and his nightmares from the graveyard resulted in him not being a
delightful and happy companion these days.

The only person who still sought out his company was his godfather, and Harry was surprised
to discover how proficient Sirius was in some subjects. Sirius told him that because of the
many protective wards, spells and charms on the house, Harry was able to practice magic
here without fear of the Ministry’s Trace. Sirius helped him learn and practice, even
introducing him to some darker hexes Harry was sure the others, especially Dumbledore,
would not approve of.

Harry had even practised setting up protective wards based on a combination of ancient runes
and spells, running them over and over until he was satisfied that they worked well enough.
To his surprise, he had found that the subject of Ancient Runes was not as dry and difficult as
he had once thought it was, and he actually rather liked it. So he studied it further, going as
far as to look through Hermione’s school books from the previous years.

Now armed with the knowledge that he could wind up in Slytherin, Harry snuck some of the
most interesting and helpful but also rather dark books from the Black library into his trunk,
hiding them under his invisibility cloak.

Sleep did not find him easily that night. He lay in his bed, Ron sleeping soundly in the other
one, and worried about the next day.

Harry woke the next morning feeling groggy; it was far too early and all he could do was
listen to Ron’s snoring. His stomach felt uneasy and his scar prickled. Knowing that sleep
would not come again, he got up and went to the loo. After washing his face with cold water,
Harry examined himself in the mirror.
His face was pale, but his cheeks had finally lost some of the hollowness he always had after
some time with the Dursleys. His green eyes were clouded with worry hidden behind the old
dark-framed glasses. His black hair was even messier than normal. His scar looked red and
slightly inflamed, a normal sight this summer.

All in all, he looked as exhausted as he felt.

He took a quick shower without looking at the scars and barely healed welts on his chest and
back, and he went back to the bedroom. Ron continued to sleep.

Harry opened his trunk to search for clothes. They would return to Hogwarts today, and even
if it was summer, Harry always froze in the Scottish Highlands. He slipped on a pair of thick
woollen socks that Dobby had given him. Rummaging through his trunk he found some thick
grey sweatpants he had bought in the summer before third year, when he had slipped
unnoticed into Muggle London during his stay in the Leaky Cauldron.

It was saddening that clothes he had bought when he was thirteen still fit at fifteen.

Harry frowned as he examined his skinny figure. Even Mrs. Weasley’s attempts at fattening
him up over the last three weeks did nothing to change the fact that he still could count every
single one of his ribs. Moreover, it seemed he hadn’t grown even one inch since he had
bought those clothes. He was still the height of a thirteen-year-old - a very small thirteen-
year-old.

Harry sighed as he slipped on two tees and some old jeans from Dudley, which were without
question big enough to fit over the sweatpants. A hoodie completed his outfit.

Then Harry started to pack his trunk. He knew, after four years of sharing a dorm with him
that Ron could sleep through a thunderstorm, so he didn’t even try to be quiet.

At around 7 am, Mrs. Weasley knocked at the door.

“Wake up, boys. Breakfast is ready, and I really hope you finished your packing.”

Ron groaned and slowly opened his eyes, blinking at Harry. “Morning… how long have you
up?” Yawning, he got out of bed and stretched.

Harry only shrugged. “A while,” he answered evasively. He did not want to talk about his
sleeping habits, or lack thereof. “Come on. Breakfast.”

With the promise of food Ron was completely awake immediately and ran out of the room.
Harry shook his head fondly. As irritated he had been with his friends this summer, he really
hoped some things would never change.
The train ride to Hogwarts was uneventful. Ron and Hermione were in the prefect
compartment most of the time, so Harry shared a compartment with Ginny, Neville and a
classmate of Ginny from Ravenclaw, Luna Lovegood. Luna was a peculiar girl with long
blond hair and big protuberant eyes that gave her a permanently surprised look, and she was
interesting and funny. Harry rather liked her.

Malfoy and his cronies visited for their traditional attempt to stir up trouble, but he somehow
seemed subdued, not quite his usual arrogant self. Harry thought it could have something to
do with, Malfoy knowing, without a doubt, that Voldemort was back. His father had been at
the graveyard, after all. Perhaps even a stuck-up pure-blood wasn’t happy with having a mad,
homicidal, megalomaniac back from the dead.

All thoughts of Malfoy vanished as the train approached Hogwarts, the trepidation over his
upcoming sorting drowning all thoughts of his blond classmate.

He was startled to see it was Professor Grubbly-Plank instead of Hagrid who gathered the
first years. Where was Hagrid? Did something happen?

He followed his friends to the carriages but stopped in shock. The normally horseless
carriages were not horseless anymore. They were drawn by some sort of winged horses.

The horses were completely skeletal, their black coats clinging to their ribs, and there was
something reptilian about them. They had vast, black leathery wings and a dragon-like head
with white, pupilless eyes. Somehow, their presence felt like a gloomy omen, especially when
he realized that neither Ron nor Hermione could see them.

Luna’s cheery acknowledgment of their existence and her assurance that he was as sane as
she was did not help in banishing the eerie feeling.

The moment Harry stepped into the entrance hall of Hogwarts, Professor McGonagall rushed
him away from the others and into the antechamber of the Great Hall where the Triwizard
champions had gathered the previous year.

Professor Dumbledore and the other three Head of Houses were already present. The
Headmaster had his grandfatherly smile on his face but still did not look Harry in the eyes.
Professor Flitwick and Professor Sprout gave him light smiles, but Professor Snape only
sneered.

Harry wished they weren’t present for this. He felt exposed.

Something must have shown on his face because Professor McGonagall looked at him and
placated him with an explanation. “The sorting is only valid if the Headmaster and all four of
the Heads of Houses are present,” she said. “This will be over shortly. Please sit down, Mr
 Potter.” She gestured to the three-legged stool with the familiar battered, old hat with its
patches already in hand.

Harry chewed on his lower lip in worry but sat down. Professor McGonagall placed the hat
on his head. It was still too big and slipped down over his eyes.

“Mmh… ah, Mr Potter! A pleasure to see your mind again,” the small voice in his head said.
“A real pleasure. Seldom do I have the chance to have more than one look into such an
interesting mind. Still plenty of courage, but how you apply that courage has somewhat
changed. I am not sure if you are still suited to Gryffindor. But... oh - that thirst to prove
yourself… to show the world that you are more than just your title… I know exactly where I
will put you this time.”

Dread filled Harry. “Please - Gryffindor. Not Slytherin.”

“Oh no, Mr. Potter. Gryffindor is not the right place for you anymore - not at all. You would
have fared well in Slytherin from the beginning, if you only would have allowed me to do my
job. This time I will put you into your real house, where you belonged in your first year. ”

“But Slytherin isn’t the right house,” Harry insisted. “They hate me, and a lot of them are
from Death Eater families. I would not survive a week there. Do you want me to die?”

“Don’t be afraid. I am linked to the magic of Hogwarts and I know the mindsets of all the
students and staff in this school. Slytherin will do you good and you will do good for
Slytherin. Slytherin is your true house, and you need the Slytherin students as much as they
need you. Slytherins protect their own.”

“But…”

“No, I will not yield. This time there will be no negotiations. I’m sure… SLYTHERIN!”

The last part the hat announced aloud. Harry heard someone gasp, but as the hat was still
covering his eyes, he couldn’t see who it was. Harry couldn’t move. He was frozen and was
still processing exactly what had happened.

His worst nightmare since he first learned of his re-sorting had become reality.

Chapter End Notes

AN: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

First published: 21st of August 2018

Last edited: 29th of January 2019
 The Welcoming Feast
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.

AN: Ah a triple update, one chapter for all three stories, who would have thought… but
I don’t think it will be like this again.

Thanks to all who bookmarked, subscribed and commented. And kudos to everyone
who gave kudos.

This is now beta’ed by the brilliant Vichan and Cameron Lindsey, many many
thanks and hugs to them.

Parts of Dumbledore’s and Umbridge’s welcoming speech are taken from OotP.

Have fun reading.

On with the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Shaken, Harry slowly removed the hat from his head and got to his feet. His breath was rapid
and shallow, and he desperately tried to control his emotions; there was far too much
desperation, fear, and fury wracking his body. It wouldn’t help the situation to break down

Not even facing Voldemort in the graveyard had been this frightening, but there he’d barely
had time to think. But with this too many thoughts swirled around in his mind. He slowed his
breath and managed to shove the dread and anxiety down. The ever-present anger was a
constant pulse in the back of his mind.

He glanced at the professors through his fringe and tried to calm himself further.

Professor McGonagall, the stern teacher who always seemed as if nothing could shake her,
appeared stunned. The twinkling in the Headmaster’s eyes had dimmed, an uncharacteristic
expression of surprise drawn across his face. Professors Flitwick and Sprout both had equally
perplexed expressions. Professor Snape had a dark look on his face, as if Harry had
personally offended him by being sorted into his house.

Harry gulped nervously and looked down, and he then realised that his robes had been graced
with the Slytherin house crest and his tie had changed to the Slytherin house colours of green
and silver.
After several seconds of somewhat awkward silence, the Headmaster finally cleared his
throat.

“This is a rather unexpected outcome. Hat,” he addressed the sorting hat. “Would you mind
explaining for us?”

“What is there to explain?” the hat answered. “I have sorted students for generations and I’ve
never sorted wrong. Normally, I don’t let a student argue with me on where to put him. But
Mr. Potter did it in his first year - successfully, as I must add. He could have belonged in
every house, as he shows traits from all of them.” The hat seemed to bristle a bit before it
continued. “Originally, I wanted to put him in Slytherin five years ago. I never should have
let him argue with me in the first place. He would have made a good snake then and he will
make a good snake now. His true house is Slytherin. He belongs there.” With that, the hat fell
silent.

Harry’s eyes were still glued to the floor, his thoughts running wild as he considered what he
should do. He wanted to survive his first night, and every night thereafter, in his new house.
Determination suddenly filled him. He would observe and adjust. Besides, he only had to
survive three years.

Rancour squeezed his stomach at that thought. It was just like the Dursleys, where he had
counted the years until he was of age to leave the house for good.

Magic had freed him, it had saved him. Magic brought him to Hogwarts, where he finally had
found a home. That home had been Gryffindor tower, with its cosy common room filled with
stuffed, squashy armchairs, and the dorm with the comfortable four-poster beds.

And that had also been taken from him. It wasn’t like it was anything new. Everything that
was good in his life had been taken away eventually.

Resentment filled him, sharp and bitter. Why always him?

How would the rest of the school react to his sorting? He feared that it would be second year
all over again, when everyone thought he’d been the next dark lord.

Conviction filled him again; he was determined to make it through all three years in
Slytherin.

He only had to tread carefully so as to not antagonize his new house. It would certainly make
his life easier with the snakes, but if he maintained enough of his Gryffindor persona and
showed that to the rest of the school, he might not necessarily be labelled an evil wizard
again. It would be tricky to balance, but Harry was fairly certain he could do it.

He certainly didn’t want to lose the few people who were perhaps willing to stand beside him
despite the crap the Prophet was writing.

“But will it be safe for Mr. Potter?” Professor McGonagall voiced her concern.
“What exactly do you want to imply, Minerva?” Snape sounded irritated. Granted, Snape
normally sounded irritated.

“Well, the history between Mr. Potter and your house, Severus, is rather… rough,”
McGonagall said. ”And we should not forget that he is back, and quite a few of his followers
have children in your house.”

“Do not worry, Minerva,” Snape replied with a hint of a sneer. “Mr. Potter will be nothing but
safe in Slytherin. We protect our own. And simply because some parents are followers
doesn’t mean their children are.”

Harry frowned. He always had the impression that children like Malfoy would love to follow
in their parents’ footsteps.

“Now that this is settled, I think we should take our seats in the Great Hall. The first years
will arrive in a few minutes.” Professor Dumbledore sounded strangely cheerful. “I will have
to make a short announcement of your sorting Harry.”

“Come along, then, Mr. Potter. I will guide you to your house table and warn your new
housemates.” Snape’s voice was like ice. Harry nodded and followed his new Head of House,
his body moving automatically. He was suddenly struck with the dreadful thought that Snape
had now direct power over him.

Professor McGonagall stopped him at the door to the great hall.

“Mr. Potter, it has been a great pleasure to have you in my house, even with all the mischief
and trouble you got yourself into,” she said with a smile. “My door is still open for you. I
wish you all the best in your new house. Slytherin is lucky to have you.” Her smile turned
reassuring.

Harry managed a small smile back and with a quiet, “Thank you, Professor,” he followed
Snape - ‘Professor Snape,’ he thought, sounding oddly like Hermione - into the Great Hall
and towards the Slytherin table.

He felt the burning gazes from Hermione and Ron at his back, but he couldn’t manage to
look over at them. With how deeply Ron hated everything having to do with Slytherin, he
knew that his friend would feel betrayed. Would Ron hate him now too?

Harry only hoped their friendship would somehow survive. Hermione would almost certainly
be more rational; he knew she would understand that the hat hadn’t given him a choice.

To Harry’s relief, nobody aside from Harry’s friends seemed to have noticed that he had
come into the Great Hall behind the Professor.

As Professor Snape approached the Slytherin table it fell silent, his snakes automatically
reacting to the presence of their Head of House. With a quick wave of his wand he first
prevented the rest of the hall from listening in, and then amplified his voice, making it
audible to all of Slytherin.
Harry stayed behind him, hiding. He felt like he was attending his own execution.

“Good evening, Slytherins. I have an announcement to make.” All the students at the table
looked at him attentively.

“Due to some rather unpredictable circumstances, you will have a new housemate beside the
usual first years,” Professor Snape said. “Mr. Potter here had to be sorted again and the
Sorting Hat was insistent on placing him in Slytherin. It seems Mr. Potter successfully
convinced the Sorting Hat in his first year to put him in a different house. He apparently
belonged here from the beginning.” He paused, fixing the students with a significant glare.

Harry didn’t miss how he emphasised certain words, nor did he miss the meaning behind
those emphases. The faces of his new housemates didn’t give a hit as to what they were
thinking; it appeared to be blank expressions and carefully neutral masks all up and down the
table. Harry remained quiet, knowing that the smartest thing he could do was to observe.

“As the rivalry between his former house and our own is widely known, I want to remind you
of our house rules. His former house is immaterial. He is now a Slytherin, one of our own.
Therefore, you will treat him as one” Harry could have sworn that Snape’s gaze lingered on
Malfoy for a moment longer than the others. “I will see you all later in the common room.
Mr. Potter, sit down.”

Snape’s hand landed on Harry’s shoulder and he steered him towards the other fifth year
Slytherins, where a chair had been emptied for him. Harry gritted his teeth at being
manhandled. He could barely suppress a flinch as Snape loomed over him after he took his
seat.

“Mr. Potter, I normally conduct individual interviews with my new first years in the first
week of the school year, as well as with any upper years that have a need to talk,” Snape said.
“As you are also a new student, I will see you in my office tomorrow after breakfast at 9
o’clock sharp.”

The black eyes of his Professor fixated on him.

Harry narrowed his eyes when he met the stare, quelling the urge to protest. What could he
and Snape have to talk about?

Remembering where he was and who watched, he nodded.

“Yes, sir.” He would handle Snape how he handled Uncle Vernon. Addressing Vernon
politely hadn’t always helped but addressing him incorrectly had always resulted in a slap.

Something akin to surprise flickered in Snape’s eyes at his polite answer.

“Good.” Snape let his gaze wander over the Slytherin table. “Have a nice welcoming feast.”

A murmured, “Thank you, Professor,” came from the Slytherins as Snape walked away and
took his seat at the head table.
Steeling himself inwardly Harry looked around, identifying who sat around him. Next to him
was a boy that Harry remembered from Potions class - Zabini, he thought his name was.
Their eyes met and the boy sent him a smirk.

“Who would’ve thought that the golden boy of Gryffindor would have hidden scales
underneath his fur?” Zabini said, clearly amused.

“Blaise, don’t be daft. Potter is not a snake,” a familiar voice sneered. “He doesn’t have the
brain cells to be one.”

Harry glared in the direction of the speaker, and green eyes met grey. Harry’s resolve to lean
back and observe quickly crumbled. He had never been very good at ignoring a challenge,
especially from Malfoy, and he found he was actually a bit happy to vent at least some of his
frustration and anger.

He could feel the stares from the other Slytherins around him.

Harry once watched a documentary where a pack of wolves had encircled a deer, their intense
gazes fixed on the prey. The Slytherins’ stares felt just like those wolves, as if they wanted to
eat him alive. Harry decided he would not be the prey, and so he wouldn’t show any
weakness.

If he wanted to have a relatively quiet time in Slytherin, he had to make it clear that he would
not lie down and take it.

“I’ll have you know, Malfoy, that the hat was pretty adamant in our first year and this year
that I had to go to Slytherin. Make of that what you will, but perhaps you lack the brain cells
to comprehend what that means,” he mocked. “Not that I expect very much from a person
who thought it was a cunning plan to dress up as a Dementor to sabotage the seeker of the
other team.”

Malfoy’s eyes blazed in anger, but the boy sitting on Harry’s other side - Nott or something -
sent Malfoy a glare while Zabini let out a slight chuckle.

“Draco, keep your temper. He’s got you there.” Now Malfoy glared, affronted, at Zabini.

“He’s right, Draco. Don’t behave like a Gryffindor.” Harry fixed a scowl on the boy beside
him, offended on behalf of his old house. Nott only smirked at him and turned back to
Malfoy. “If the hat decided he belongs in Slytherin, there has to be more to him than the
Gryffindor exterior we’ve witnessed so far.”

Every Slytherin within earshot of the conversation turned to Harry, who shrugged and offered
an evasive reply. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I am who I’ve always been.”

Oh, joy, now they looked intrigued. Even Malfoy appeared more interested than annoyed, and
he tapped his chin thoughtfully and then grinned at him. An actual grin, not a smirk or a
sneer. Harry nearly fell out of his chair.

“A very Slytherin answer. Maybe there’s hope for you, after all.”
Then the doors opened, and their attention was caught by the first years walking into the
Great Hall.

Harry didn’t remember much of the sorting hat’s song or the sorting. He could still feel the
occasional stare from the Slytherins around him as they observed him. He hated being stared
at. At Privet Drive it never meant anything good; it was always best to be overlooked.

He sat stiffly at the Slytherin table, staring sightlessly, and thought with trepidation of the
upcoming evening and next few days. There was the talk with Professor Snape in the
morning, and before that the almost certain confrontation in the Slytherin common room and
dorm. Unease squeezed his stomach at the possibilities of what could happen.

After the last first year was sorted into Ravenclaw, Dumbledore stood up. Harry listened half-
heartedly.

“The very best of evenings to you! To our new students, welcome. And to our old students,
welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you. I hope your heads are
empty and ready to be filled with new knowledge...” Harry stopped listening after he realized
it was a variation of the same speech Dumbledore held at every welcoming feast.

When the students around him gave a polite clap, Harry knew the new professors must have
been introduced, and he mirrored the quiet applause automatically.

“Tryouts for the Quidditch teams will take place - ”

Harry looked to the Head table when Dumbledore suddenly stopped mid-sentence.

“Hem, hem.”

Dumbledore stood aside to give the interrupter the stage, and Harry nearly fell off of his chair
when he recognized her face. He hadn’t paid attention when the new professors were
introduced, but he didn’t need an introduction for that woman. He immediately recognized
the horrid shade of pink and the toad-like face.

‘What is the witch from the Ministry doing here?’ Harry tapped his chin as he tried to
remember ‘Madame Andrich? No, that isn’t… something with U…’ Then it struck him
Umbridge.

He focused his attention on her. When she opened her mouth and spoke in her high, girlish
voice, Harry couldn’t prevent his disgusted shudder. At his hearing he had gotten an uneasy
feeling from her, and that feeling intensified as he listened to her speech.

“Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome.” She cleared her throat again.
“Hem, hem. Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say! And to see such happy little
faces looking back at me! I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all, and
I’m sure we’ll all be good friends.” She smiled and looked around the Great Hall. Harry was
sure that nobody was smiling at her, as he glanced around the Slytherin table he saw disgust
and horror carefully disguised behind blank masks.

When exactly had he started to read the Slytherins and see behind the mask?

Had he already been changed by being a Slytherin? Or had he simply never had the
opportunity to study the Slytherin students’ masks before?

“Hem, hem. The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches
and wizards to be of vital importance…” Harry continued to listen to her babbling about
changes, preservation, progress, tradition and innovation - it was utterly boring.

Harry didn’t have to listen to every word to understand the gist of her speech and her
presence at Hogwarts; it wasn’t hard to figure out. The Ministry intended to meddle in
Hogwarts.

Only a few people still listened to her. Malfoy probed a fly on the table with his wand, and
Harry could hear a quiet, “Petrificus Totalus,” as Malfoy paralysed the fly again and again.
On either side of him, Crabbe and Goyle watched and snickered

Hesitant applause rose, signalling the end of Umbridge’s speech. Harry listened to
Dumbledore announce when Quidditch tryouts would take place and felt a pang of sadness at
the thought of not being able to play.

“And now, I have one last announcement to make,” Dumbledore said, and Harry stiffened in
anticipation. “Because of some unpredictable incidents that occurred over the summer, one of
our older students had to be sorted again. The Head of Houses and myself did so before the
first years’ sorting. The sorting hat decided not to put him in his previous house again.
Remember, that even if each house has unique and specific traits, human beings are seldom
that simple. We are all composed of various characteristics, and we become who we are
based on our experiences. Each day we experience something new, which changes our
outlook of the world and shapes our personality.”

Dumbledore looked around in the Great Hall, eyes briefly flickering to Harry at the Slytherin
table.

“I am sure, that all of you have attributes from more than one house and act on said attributes.
“Therefore, I hope you will not judge your schoolmate because the hat has decided that the
traits of his new house are more prominent compared to his former house; this does not mean
he’s lost the attributes of his old house.” Harry braced himself.

“I hope that Mr. Harry Potter is an asset to his new house and that Slytherin house welcomes
their new snake. And now, tuck in!” Dumbledore finished his speech and the food appeared.

Whispers rose in the hall and Harry heard people shifting in their seats as hundreds of heads
turned to look at him.
He firmly fixed his stare on the food and ignored all the eyes and whispers. He filled his
goblet with water, knowing that he appeared far calmer than he appeared.

The Slytherins were the only ones who didn’t stare at him and started filling their plates
instead, behaving as if having a former Gryffindor re-sorted into their house was an everyday
occurrence. Harry couldn’t help but feel thankful for that.

Harry glanced around and waited until everyone around him started eating before he reached
for some mashed potatoes, beans, and chicken. He ate slowly, chewing every bite carefully,
and made no attempt to be a part of the conversation around him. He instead used the
opportunity to observe the Slytherins around him.

It was quieter compared to the Gryffindor table, but they definitely still behaved like normal
teenagers. They talked about their holidays, homework, and the latest gossip. They teased
one another, and laughter could be heard, but the Slytherins upheld a calm demeanour
through it all.

The Gryffindor table had always been loud and boisterous, and Harry was almost startled to
realise that he actually liked the quieter atmosphere of the Slytherin table, even if he couldn’t
completely relax.

He was curious how they would behave in the private environment of their common room
and dorms.

Harry finished his rather small amount of food compared to what the boys around him ate,
although he didn’t bother to look at Crabbe and Goyle; they were worse than Ron, but at least
they had better manners and chewed with their mouths closed. He supposed it could be the
pure-blood manners. But even compared to the others that weren’t Crabbe and Goyle, his
dinner was minuscule. He knew his stomach was awfully small, a side-effect of his
childhood. Even five years of Hogwarts’ feasts couldn’t reverse that, especially with the
summers in between.

He put his cutlery aside and some of his housemates shifted their attention back to him. Out
of the corner of his eye he saw Malfoy frown at him, and his eyes flickered to his plate. Harry
cursed internally as it sunk in that the Slytherins seemed far more observant than the
Gryffindors.

The boy beside Harry gave him a smile. “Blaise Zabini. Welcome to Slytherin house. I don’t
think you know all of us, even if we do have most classes together,” Zabini said. “Beside you
is Theodore Nott. On the other side of Theo is Millicent Bulstrode. Draco, Vince, and Greg,
you already know, as well as Pansy. Next to her is Tracey Davis, and then Daphne
Greengrass.” Zabini gestured to the boys and girls around them.

Harry nodded politely to everyone and got amiable greetings in return, even from Malfoy and
his goons.

“So…” Blaise said with barely concealed curiosity. “Exactly what happened that resulted in
you needing to be sorted again? I’ve read about occurrences like this, but they never
elaborated on why a re-sorting would be needed.”
Harry looked around and saw carefully masked interest in the boys and girls listening in. He
sighed inwardly as he mulled over what he should reveal and if he even should explain
anything. He realized that there were probably a multitude of rumors already spreading
through the castle, and he decided that the basic truth was the best route.

“I got an official warning for underage magic this summer. Since it was my second one, I had
to attend a disciplinary hearing,” Harry said. “Someone in the Ministry falsely registered
what should have been the charge as ‘convicted.’ Therefore, the student book of Hogwarts
automatically shifted my name to ‘expelled’ and later, as I was found ‘not guilty,’ my name
was shifted back to the Hogwarts student list. But the expulsion couldn’t just be reversed, so I
wasn’t registered as a Gryffindor and had to be sorted again.”

He took a gulp of his water as he tried to gauge the students around him.

“And why did you get an official warning? Accidental magic at your age?” Pansy Parkinson
snickered.

Harry didn’t rise to the attempted insult. He simply shook his head and gave her a saccharine
smile, which seemed to catch her and most of the people around him off guard.

“No, some Dementors attacked my muggle cousin and me and as nobody else was there to
help, I cast a Patronus.” He gave a slight shrug.

The Slytherins’ eyes widened, which was the only sign of their surprise.

“Are telling us you can cast a Patronus strong enough to not only hold Dementors at bay, but
drive them away?” Zabini enquired in disbelief as dessert appeared on the table.

Harry nodded nonchalantly; it simply wasn’t that big of a deal for him. He helped himself to
some fruit, knowing full-well that ice cream, cake, and even his beloved treacle tart were still
too heavy for his stomach.

“Yes. I learned the spell in third year after I was attacked by the Dementors during the
Quidditch game.”

Malfoy gave him a mocking look and sneered.

“Ah, yes… I remember you were affected quite badly,” Malfoy said. “You were easily
frightened. Delicate, aren’t you?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed and fixated on Malfoy, his glare cold and hard. That simmering pool
of anger in the back of his mind rose again.

“I’d like to see how you handle hearing your father being killed while your mother pleads for
your life,” Harry said in a low, somewhat dangerous voice, trying to rein in his temper. “Then
hear her being killed while her murderer just laughs. Every time one of those creatures are
near, that’s what you would hear. I wonder how you would react to that.”

The masks of the Slytherins around him suddenly broke, shock and unease and perhaps even
embarrassment visible in their faces.
Smugly satisfied that he managed to break their countenance, Harry decided that he’d had
enough socializing with his new housemates for the time-being.

He gave Malfoy one last withering stare, got up from the table and approached the Gryffindor
table in search of Ron and Hermione. He tried to ignore the sneers and angry scowls directed
towards him from his former housemates, pushing the feeling of betrayal down as he saw
more than one hateful glower thrown at him.

Suddenly, he had an armful of his best friend, bushy hair in his face and strong arms
squeezing him almost painfully.

“Hermione…”

She hugged him even tighter for moment before stepping back.

“Oh, Harry, why is everything always happening to you?” She looked at him in distress,
inspecting him up and down as if she was making sure the Slytherins hadn’t done something
to him during the feast.

“Hermione -” Harry started again, but Hermione interrupted him.

“This is the reason why you were so moody yesterday, wasn’t it?” she asked, more of a
statement than a question. “I understand. But acquiring the skill to survive You-Know-Who
and then being cunning enough to escape and warn the world of his resurrection - that doesn’t
make you a different person.”

Harry absently wondered if she was trying to convince him or herself, but Hermione barrelled
on.

“Yes, they might be Slytherin traits, but you are also brave like a Gryffindor. Oh, Harry... the
hat didn’t give you a choice, did it?”

“No…”

“Maybe it will do you good to be in Slytherin. You really do need to learn some self-
preservation,” she said. “And perhaps you really belong in Slytherin, but you are still my best
friend.” Her eyes filled with tears. “Oh, I’m going to miss you up in Gryffindor tower,
though.”

Harry gulped but found that he couldn’t speak, so he only hugged Hermione briefly to show
her how much her words meant to him. He looked over her shoulder to search for Ron, but
his redheaded friend was nowhere to be seen.

He looked at Hermione in question, and she shook her head.

“It was a shock for him,” she explained. “You know what he thinks about Slytherins. Give
him time and let him sleep it over. I’m sure it’ll be fine, and we’ll talk more tomorrow.” She
hugged him again and then left, gathering the first years around her to lead them to the
dormitory. Harry watched her leave and tried to suppress the bitter feeling of betrayal which
had popped up in Ron’s absence.
 He felt hundred of stares at his back and out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean whispering
something to Seamus, while the Irish boy shot a hateful look at Harry.

“Are you coming?”

Zabini materialised beside him, crooking his head like a curious bird. Harry nodded and
followed him with one last glance at his old housemates. As he caught the grins from Fred
and George he nearly stumbled. Both had sparkling, mischievous eyes and as they saw him
looking, they gave him the thumbs up.

He had the suspicious feeling that he would be abducted the next days by the twin menaces,
who would almost certainly use him to get into the Slytherin common room or something.

Feeling lighter, Harry followed Zabini to the dungeons. At least it seemed that not all of his
old house hated him.

Chapter End Notes

AN: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

First published: 12th of September 2018

Last edited: 1st of February 2019
 Slytherin House
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.

AN: Thanks to everyone who subscribed, bookmarked, commented and for all the
kudos.
I was overwhelmed by the positive comments for the first two chapters, so I was really
in the mood for this fic. But before I wrote new chapters I finished planning the
mainplot.
Now that this is done, here is the next chapter for you.

This chapter is beta’ed by the wonderful Vichan and Cameron Lindsey. Thanks to
you two, you are the best!

Parts of Snape’s welcoming speech are from pottermore.

Have fun reading.

On with the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry tried to remember the way to the Slytherin common room from when he had followed
Malfoy during their second year, but the dungeon corridors all looked the same to him. He
sighed. He would have to ensure that he had the Marauders’ map with him at all times or he
was sure to get lost.

They stopped in front of a stone wall.

“Bezoar.” Zabini spoke, and the stone wall parted to reveal a long underground room.

As they stepped inside, Harry saw that the whole Slytherin house was present in the common
room. Heads moved and whispers broke out when they realized who had followed Zabini
into the room.

To distract himself from some of the stares, he looked around. When he had infiltrated it with
Ron, he had not dared to study it with open curiosity.

Previously, he’d gotten the impression of a dark room with a grand but cold atmosphere. It
seemed he would certainly have to reconsider his previous opinion.
It was a long, dungeon-like room, and parts of it extended underneath the Black Lake. The
windows looked out into the underwater world of the lake, and during the day it would give
the light in the room a green tinge. As it was night-time, the waters were currently dark and
black.

Fire crackled in the two big fireplaces dominating the left and right walls of the room,
providing warmth and light. Green lamps hung from the ceiling and several black and green
leather settees and dark green armchairs were arranged in groups around the room. Tables of
various sizes with carved chairs were set up in a few different places, and several dark wood
cupboards, filled with books, games, and other objects, were scattered in most of the corners.

Located in the dungeons, it could have been a cold, dark room with a creepy atmosphere, but
instead, due to the darker, warmer colours, it emanated calm and cosiness, something Harry
never would have associated with the dungeons.

He moved around most of his new housemates and stood in front of one of the large
windows, observing the dark waters. In the light of the day he was sure he would be able to
see fish and creatures, perhaps even the giant squid swooshing by.

The whispering finally settled down behind him.

His housemates seemed to be waiting for something and his suspicion was confirmed when
the entrance opened and Professor Snape stepped into the common room, piercing gaze
sweeping over them. His eyes briefly stopped on Harry standing at the back of the crowd, and
then he addressed the whole room.

“Welcome back, my snakes. To our new first years: welcome to Slytherin. I am Professor
Severus Snape, your Head of House.”

He looked at the small eleven-year-olds standing in front of him and Harry was surprised to
see something akin to a small, comforting smile on Professor Snape’s face.

“First, let me clarify a few things for you and dispel some of the more… unfortunate myths.
Slytherin house is not the house of evil, nor is it the house for Dark Wizards. Yes, we have
produced our fair share of Dark Wizards, but so did the other Houses; they just don’t care to
admit it. And if you didn’t know, the greatest wizard of all time - Merlin, himself - was a
Slytherin.”

Professor Snape paused, and Harry thought back to his first potions class. He had to admit
that Snape knew how to deliver a speech. As always, he didn’t raise his voice but was
nonetheless heard at the back of the room, and everyone’s attention was on him.

“Slytherin is the house of the ambitious, determined, cunning, and clever. We strive to better
ourselves. We play to win and care about the pride, honour, and traditions of Slytherin. What
Salazar sought in his students was the seed of greatness. Every single one of you has been
chosen for this house because you have the potential to be great, in whatever way you choose
to be.”

Professor Snape paused again to give the children time to comprehend what was implied.
“The most important point you should remember is that we Slytherins look after our own.
The other houses and parts of the magical world look upon us with fear and distrust.
Therefore, we must stand together.” Snape’s voice was firm. “Every dispute between you and
a fellow snake stays inside our house. Outside, you must present a united front, especially in
regards of the recent events in wizarding Great Britain. No snake is to walk alone in the halls.
I don’t know if you read the Daily Prophet and if you believe it but let me make something
clear so that there are no misunderstandings.” He raked his gazed across the room to make
sure that everyone was paying attention.

He did not need to; everyone in the room was hanging onto his every word.

“The one widely known as ‘You-Know-Who’ is back. No matter what the newspapers are
saying this is the undeniable truth.”

Shocked gasps rippled through the common room. Harry wasn’t sure if this was because they
believed the Daily Prophet or were simply stunned that Professor Snape would confirm it so
openly.

“This will make things for you in Hogwarts harder, especially when the public finally accepts
the truth. You will be associated with the Death Eaters, solely based on the fact that you are
Slytherins. It may be that your parents, uncles, aunts, cousins, or siblings are following the
beliefs of the Dark Lord…”

A surprised wave of murmurs wandered through the younger students standing at the front,
especially from the first years. Professor Snape narrowed his eyes.

“Yes, I do call him the ‘Dark Lord.’ Calling him ‘You-Know-Who’ is a foolishness I don’t
wish to take part in. Calling him by his chosen name is another foolishness altogether, as he
placed a taboo curse on his name in the last war. Whatever your thoughts of him might be, he
is an immensely powerful wizard and is due a certain level of respect.” He paused, allowing
that to sink in, before continuing. “This is a lesson you should always remember: give your
friends, allies, and especially your enemies the respect they deserve based on their abilities,
even if you don’t respect them from a… moral standpoint.”

Harry had to give Professor Snape credits. He was sure the professor knew there were
children of Death Eaters in his house; perhaps some of them would even become Death
Eaters shortly before or after graduation. Impressively, he managed to appease them all
without showing his own affiliation.

But why? Everything Harry had learned about Slytherins over the years and all of his own
experiences with them had led him to the impression that they were all prejudiced purebloods
who would love nothing more than to follow Voldemort.

But then, Harry had to admit that he didn’t really know all that much about these students and
their families. The only ones he really interacted with were Malfoy and his goons, as well as
the Quidditch team. He actually didn’t know anything about these people.

How they were raised. What they really thought about half-bloods and Muggle-borns. Why
their families followed Voldemort. Were all of the Slytherin families in league with
Voldemort?

Harry realized he had been judging them all based on the actions of a few, an incredibly easy
trap to fall into. Just as he had accused them of prejudice against half-bloods, Muggle-borns,
and muggles, he himself held a prejudice against these students simply because of being in
Slytherin house.

The house he was now a part of.

Perhaps he needed to be more open-minded. He should probably observe and get to know his
housemates before he judged them.

After all, they couldn’t all be like Malfoy. If he found at least one decent person, someone he
could talk to, perhaps his time in Slytherin wouldn’t be complete torture.

And even if they all were like him, Harry knew he could survive it. He would survive just
like he had survived the Dursleys. He only needed to know how to behave in order to not
draw attention, and which mask he needed to live in Slytherin house.

Harry clenched his fist in determination and shifted his attention back to Snape.

“Here in this house we have children from families of all walks: light, neutral and dark.
These political associations mean nothing while you are here. At Hogwarts, you are all
Slytherin,” Snape said, his voice stern.

“You are family to one another. Even if you will stand on separate sides later, in Slytherin,
you always will have a family. All other affiliations are void during your stay here. If we
don’t look after each other, no one else will. We are loyal to each other. I am not saying that
you should denounce your family, but I do not allow disputes in my house based on your
family’s associations.”

Harry sneered lightly at that. It all sounded well and good; if it was true, he didn’t need to be
concerned about the children of Death Eaters. But he also knew that being family didn’t
necessarily mean that someone cared or treated you right - not even if you were related by
blood.

“Your family status and family affiliation are secondary here; your blood status is of no
significance at all. Show us what you can do.” Professor Snape was intense in his speech and
his gaze, eyes wandering over them, as he ensured every word sank in. Then he assumed a
lighter tone.

“Our house colours are green and silver, and our house emblem is the serpent. Serpents are
some of nature’s most resourceful creatures, and as they grow older, they shed their skin and
start anew. Keep this firmly in mind and you will be able to handle everything life throws at
you.”

Professor Snape flicked his wand and a parchment appeared on the announcement board left
of the entrance door.
“Now, I have some rules for you to follow. Firstly, for our new students, I will have an
individual interview with every one of you. These are to evaluate your education so far, what
you need to settle in, and individual tutoring if needed. We will also go through your medical
record to address any problems which may occur. The schedule for the annual health check
for everyone is posted on the notice board.”

Harry felt sick to his stomach; he never had an actual health check. They technically had
them at the beginning of the year in Gryffindor, as well, but nobody made sure that they
actually went. Harry always managed to find a way to skip it.

And as he was usually in the hospital wing more than once in a typical school year, nobody
had ever questioned it. Even Hermione simply assumed Madam Pomfrey checked him over
when he was in her care.

“Aside from this, you can always come to me - not only in emergencies, but simply to talk or
if you need help,” Snape said. Harry had never heard Snape’s voice sound so caring. “I am
your Head of House, and this means while at school I am responsible for you and act in loco
parentis. I take this responsibility seriously. But I encourage you to go to the prefects with
smaller problems.”

Harry felt shocked. Professor McGonagall had never given a welcome talk to her
Gryffindors, nor had she emphasized that she was responsible for them beside being their
teacher and disciplinarian. While it was true that they knew they could go to her if they had
problems, she never had encouraged them openly like Professor Snape.

And the Gryffindors normally handled everything themselves, with the younger years
seeking help from the older ones.

“You will see that I will not deduct House points from my own house if you are breaking the
rules.” Harry quirked his lips at that, wondering if Snape would miss using every opportunity
to take points away from him. “This does not mean that you will not be punished. I will
personally decide and oversee your punishment. If you are the reason one of the other
teachers has taken points, I will evaluate the offense and give additional punishment if
necessary.” Here Professor Snape smirked at them, and Harry saw some of the older students
shudder.

He decided he didn’t really want to know what intra-house punishment Professor Snape
tended to come up with.

“Remember that you are Slytherins; behave as such and always present an impeccable
image.” He paused again, driving his point home. “The house rules are as followed. I highly
recommend remembering and abiding to them, as I will be... displeased if you not behave
accordingly.”

His eyes bored into Harry, and then he addressed the house as a whole again.

“First your house is your family. Family stands together.

“Second, once you’ve become a snake, you’re one of ours.

“Third, Slytherins look after our own.

“Fourth, all disputes stay within the house.

“Fifth, you determine your own value. It is not important who your parents are or what blood
you have. Treat your housemates accordingly.

“Sixth, the time between dinner and curfew is to spend inside your house.

“Seventh, no one is allowed to skip house meetings.

“Eighth, the annual health checks at the beginning of the year are mandatory.”

Snape paused after each rule. He ensured he caught the eyes of his Slytherins, especially from
the newest students.

Harry looked back at his teacher and Head of House with wide eyes. Slytherin was more
different then he had imagined.

“All rules, bedtimes, my office hours, and other announcement can be found on the notice
board. I will regularly and personally check your adherence to the assigned bedtime.
Dormitories for the boys are through the left door, and the ones for the girls through the
right.”

Harry gaped. They had bedtimes? Professor McGonagall had never given them a bedtime.
Yes, they had the general curfew, but not bedtimes.

Then Snape smiled at the students in the room. It was only a short uplift of his lips, but it was
nonetheless warm, and Harry was sure the world was coming to an end. Snape could actually
smile at students!

“Welcome to the family. I hope you have an enjoyable evening, and I will see you all
tomorrow.”

Professor Snape nodded at them and left the common room. The students split into smaller
groups, settling into the seating areas around the room.

Harry shook his head as he tried to comprehend everything he had heard, but it was too much
and too different from what he had expected. His mind was overwhelmed with all that had
happened since the day before.

He slowly made his way over to the announcement board. On the list for individual
interviews, he saw his name at the top, the next day at 9 AM. The bedtime for the fifth years
was 11 PM. He sighed. Slytherin was so different.

Harry hadn’t even gone a full day as a snake, and he was already bone deep tired. One glance
around the room showed him that nobody paid him any direct attention, so he decided to
head to bed early. Just in case, he wanted to set up protection around his bed and his trunk.
Who knew if the Slytherins would really abide by the rules set by their Head of House?
In Gryffindor, McGonagall certainly had not known everything that had occurred.

Walking through the door which led to the boys’ dormitories, he discovered a spiral staircase
going down to his left and a hallway to his right. Several doors on the left side of the corridor
seemed to lead into dormitories.

Harry stepped into the hallway and saw that the doors had plates with two names each on
them. Harry recognized some of the names from the Quidditch team such as Cassius
Warrington. It seemed these were the seventh years’ rooms.

He walked down the staircase and found a hallway with one door on each side. The door on
the right was the sixth years’ dorm, and the one on the left for the fifth years. It seemed only
the seventh years got separate rooms with two students each.

Harry opened the door to the fifth years room with hesitation, and he let out a relieved sigh
when he saw it was empty. It was a long room stretching out right from the entrance door.

The wall directly left from the entrance door held a large fireplace that provided warmth, and
the wall was also decorated with a medieval tapestry. To the right of the fireplace was another
door. He assumed it led to the bathroom, as he had not seen another door in the hallway aside
from the one to the sixth years’ dorm.

At the other end of the room, opposite the fireplace, a huge window looked out into the dark
waters of the Black Lake. On the left and right walls were three beds each. The four-poster
beds were the same ones as in the Gryffindor dorms, but with green silk hangings and
bedspreads in green, embroidered with silver. To one side of each bed a wardrobe stood and
to the other a desk with a chair and a shelf above it. All of the furniture was made of a dark
wood.

Soft carpets in patterns of different kinds of green protected against the cold, stony dungeon
floor. Silver lanterns hung from the ceiling and provided additional light to the fireplace.

Harry had to admit that the whole room was soothing with the warm and dark colours, and he
was curious how the light would filter through the water of the Great Lake and transform the
room in the mornings.

He found his trunk at the bottom of the bed nearest the window on the right wall. He touched
one of the hidden runes with his wand and the trunk sprung open, answering his magical
signature. He grinned, pleased with his handiwork, and decided to leave everything valuable
in his trunk. He pulled one of the warding books and his notebook out. He found the
combination of runes and spells he had researched the previous day in the Black Library.

A few minutes later, Harry lay on his back under his bed, carving runes into the dark wood
and combining them with spells. Nobody would be able to open his curtains without his
allowance. Harmful spells and curses would rebound from the shield he put around his bed,
which stretched from one post to the other.

His wards could not block all curses, and if someone would cast a spell with more power than
Harry had put into his rune shields, they would pass through, but the moment a curse
encountered his wards he would know.

By the time he finished and crawled out from under his bed he wasn’t simply tired anymore;
he was completely drained, physically and emotionally. The ever-present anger and confusion
that had been overwhelming throughout the evening were subdued. He felt numb and
exhausted, and so he decided to unpack the next day.

After a short trip to the bathroom, he slipped out of his robes and threw them over the chair
beside his bed, along with his hoodie and jeans, leaving the sweatpants and two tees to sleep
in.

He sighed, content, as he nestled under the blankets. The dungeons were cold, even with the
constant fire in the fireplace, but the duvet was thick and fluffy and equipped with a warming
charm. He decided to try and process everything tomorrow.

Putting his wand under his pillow he closed his eyes and quickly fell asleep, never hearing
his dorm mates entering the room.

Harry woke with a scream still on his lips, panting heavily. For a short moment he didn’t
know where he was and the fear and dread, which still lingered from his nightmare, turned
into panic.

He blindly searched for his glasses and wand and he felt the panic increase when he didn’t
find both immediately.

Then his fingers touched something cool and metallic and he grabbed his glasses, slipping
them on to survey his surroundings.

He was in the Slytherin dorm. His new dorm.

He could make out the other four-poster beds in the room, barely illuminated by the light of
the fire, and heard the soft breath of sleep from the other boys.

Breathing deep to calm his racing heart, Harry turned around and pulled the blankets back on
top of him. It seemed he had kicked them off during his nightmare.

He was safe. He was not back in the graveyard.

Again, he looked around in the dark and silent room. Thank Merlin he had put silencing
charms around his bed. It would have been mortifying to wake up his new dorm mates with
his screams.

What had his nightmare been about? He frowned as he tried to remember. He had been back
in the graveyard. Voldemort had been there, looking snake-like and horrific, but there had
been more than just that.
He was sure his Uncle Vernon had been there too, as well as Sirius and several other people
he couldn’t remember.

There had been so much yelling and screaming.

Accusations had been thrown at him.

Someone had transformed into a snake… had it been Harry himself?

The more effort he put into remembering, the more the details vanished. Sighing, he flopped
onto his back, staring up at the ceiling.

What time was it? Reaching for his wand under his pillow, he cast a quick Tempus. It was still
early in the morning; theoretically too early to get up, but early enough that Harry knew he
wouldn’t fall back to sleep.

He quietly slipped out of bed, retrieved fresh clothes from his trunk as silently as he could,
and went to take a shower. At least he could be sure that nobody would walk in on him
considering the time of day.

The lanterns in the bathroom lit up the moment he stepped inside. The previous evening, he
had been too tired to look around.

The bathroom wasn’t terribly different from the Gryffindor one. Across from the door were
the sinks, and the rest of the room stretched out left from the door. It was divided into two
sections by a wall; to one side were the showers, on the other the toilets.

He removed his clothing, put them into the hamper, and stepped into one of the shower stalls.
He closed his eyes and let the hot water soothe his body, easing the tension from the
nightmare and the events of the previous day.

He needed a clear head for whatever Snape wanted to talk with him about. He also wanted to
try and speak with Ron. Hopefully the redhead would understand that Harry didn’t have a
choice.

Harry sighed as he grabbed the shampoo to wash his hair.

The day before he had managed to avoid any prolonged interaction with his new house, and
he was sure today he wouldn’t be as lucky. Perhaps it hadn’t been a good idea to leave the
common room so early. Due to his early exit, he had no idea how the atmosphere had been.

Would they be hostile? Neutral? Curious?

He needed to ascertain the situation within Slytherin house, to know who to watch, who to
stay away from, and who was safe.

The anger and bitterness he felt after his sorting licked at his insides again.

Why always him?

Hogwarts should have been his refuge.

Why were strange things always happening to him? Why couldn’t his life be easy and normal
for once?

He stifled a bitter laugh. He knew why… because he was Harry Potter.

Why couldn’t he be someone other than the Boy-Who-Lived? Why couldn’t he be normal?

He closed his eyes and clenched his fists as the rage turned his blood to fire. His breath was
heavy, and he listened to the water pour down on him; it was the only noise beside his
breathing in the quiet bathroom.

He tried to control his anger but standing alone in the bathroom where no one could see and
judge him, it was all suddenly too much.

“FUCK!” Sharp pain radiated from his fist as he thrust it into the wall, and it cut through the
haze of red-hot fury.

Shocked at what he’d just done, Harry opened his eyes and looked down at his right hand. It
throbbed in pain; the skin on the knuckles had been broken and was bleeding. When he
moved his fingers the pain increased.

He carefully palpated the injured hand with his left and when he realized nothing was broken
a relieved breath escaped him. He had his fair share of experience with bruises and
contusions, and he knew how to handle and hide them. A broken hand would certainly raise
questions and result in an extra trip to the hospital wing.

Harry switched the shower off and dried himself carefully, avoiding the use of his right hand.
When he was done, he stepped over to the sinks and filled one with cold water. Clumsily
handling his wand with his left hand, he conjured a few ice cubes and added them to the
water. He settled his hand into the ice bath with a hiss.

The throbbing decreased to a level he could handle. Harry carefully dried his hand, then
finished washing up and got dressed, still favouring his left hand.

He stepped back into the still dark and silent dorm room and he retrieved a first-aid kit from
his trunk. He carefully disinfected his knuckles, spread some healing ointment on them, but
decided against a bandage. It would be far too noticeable, and Harry didn’t want to draw
attention to his injury

He then took his satchel filled with his school books, parchment, ink and quill and went to
the common room.

He found a comfortable armchair near one of the fireplaces and decided to write a letter to
Sirius; he needed to tell him what had happened, after all.

He had no idea what his godfather would think about him being in Slytherin. Sirius tried to
repel everything having to do with his family, and Slytherin house was a part of that.
 Would he still want Harry? Would he still want to be his godfather? Or would he hate him
now? Would he leave him, like nearly every adult who mattered to Harry did?

Harry set his jaw and started to write, trying to find the right words to make Sirius understand
that hadn’t had a choice, and that he still was the same Harry as before. He would send the
letter after breakfast.

Breakfast with his new house.

As that thought struck him, he set the quill aside and stared into the fire, dreading his first
real day as a snake.

Chapter End Notes

AN: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

First published: 30th of September 2018

Last edited: 2nd of February 2019
 The First Morning
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.

AN: Thank you all for reading, subscribing, bookmarking and commenting. And for all
the kudos! It is always nice to know that people appreciate what I write. You all deserve
hugs and lots of salted-caramel ice-cream or Oreos, whatever you prefer.

I am sorry that it took so long for me to update. This fanfic is not my priority in the
moment between LtE and WiB.

And Real-life was very demanding. November and December are not emotional good
month for my family and I and work was a b****.

And then I got completely distracted and hooked up by several things. First with Yuri!!!
on ICE (watched it definitely more than once), then I found the wonderful author Heidi
Cullinan. Her books are brilliant, I am on my way reading them all. My favourites are
Carry the Ocean, Antisocial and Special Delivery.

And last week someone recommended the book Simon vs the Homo Sapiens Agenda to
me - OMG I love it and the movie adaption (Love, Simon) too. Watching and reading
this I somehow wish I had a coming out in school. Which I hadn’t (for me it was always
obvious that I am not hetero) but I was this nerdy antisocial girl with the I-am-not-
interested-in-the-world-or-people-so-they-have-no-business-being-interested-in-me-
attitude, nobody ever asked so I never told. The book and the movie makes me wonder
what could have happened.
Okay I am rambling, sorry.

Additionally, I started the new year with a mild concussion. Not the best way to start a
new year, but that means it can only get better.

But now, finally I managed to finish this chapter and I really hope you like it.

This chapter is beta’ed by the brilliant Vichan and Cameron Lindsey.

Have fun reading.

On with the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry tried over and over again to start writing the letter to his godfather again, but the right
words weren’t coming to him and the longer he held the quill, the more prominent the
throbbing in his knuckles became.

He threw the quill aside in frustration and stared into the fireplace where a small fire had
been maintained over the night by the house elves. He didn’t really know how to go about
reassuring Sirius. Hell, he didn’t even know how to reassure Ron, who, based off of his
disappearing act yesterday, was not nearly as okay with the hat’s choice as Hermione was.

In truth, he didn’t even know how to reassure himself. He knew he was no different than the
previous day when he awoke at Grimmauld Place, but he also knew being sorted into
Slytherin would change so much - perhaps too much. However, he wouldn’t let his sorting
change him.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair with a sigh. He needed to find something to distract his
thoughts, so Harry stood up and looked around the sparsely lit common room, which he
realized, now that it was completely void of people, was immense compared to its Gryffindor
counterpart. As it was in the dungeons, where infinitely more space was available then in the
towers, that somehow made sense.

Harry sighed again and wished he was in the smaller, round, warm common room in the
lions’ tower. It may have been true that the snake’s common room was soothing and
spacious, but simply wasn’t the same. He fiercely missed the familiar atmosphere. Besides,
the dark shadows were a bit creepy, now that Harry allowed himself to actually take in the
wide, silent room.

The sun was still below the horizon, therefore the crescent-shaped bulge that extended into
the Great Lake, with its floor-to-ceiling windows, was cast into darkness. The water lapping
against the glass was black, which enhanced the unsettling feeling of being underground. It
certainly would take a bit of time to get used to it.

Harry approached the bookshelves separating the section with the windows from the rest of
the common room. Of course, the Slytherins had their own little library. He scanned the book
titles out of curiosity, and surprisingly there were no Dark Arts books as Harry had assumed
there would be. The contents of the bookshelves where actually quite diverse; books on every
class Hogwarts offered were there, but there were also subjects like Alchemy, Warding,
Healing, Magical Theory, and even household charms.

A book caught his eye, the cover a light red and the title in silver letters. ‘Beautify Yourself –
Manicure, Glamour, Makeup, and Hairstyle Charms,’ he read, a small chuckle escaped his
lips. Why was such a book standing proud in the bookshelves of Slytherin house?

‘Glamours’ suddenly jumped out at him, and he froze as the impending talk with Snape came
to mind. Snape had mentioned they speak about his medical history, and that everyone would
have a health check; this was something Harry felt that he dreaded even more than his
upcoming breakfast with the rest of Slytherin house. He either needed a way around it, or a
way to make it appear that everything was just fine.
Harry bit his lower lip as he opened the book in hesitation. He had read about glamours in
one of the older books in the Black library, but he hadn’t really seen a use for them – as they
could not alter or hide curse scars – and he hadn’t attempted to memorize what he had read.

The book in his hands sounded and looked like it had been published recently and seemed to
be geared towards the fairer gender.

Harry scanned the index and let out a grin. Perhaps it wasn’t just the girls that read books like
these. He flipped the pages to a specific chapter concerning hairstyles, which described more
than a dozen different ways to tame your hair with the help of charms and potions. The
chapter practically screamed that Malfoy had read it at some point, especially because
someone had put a picture of Malfoy from his second year beside the charm- and potion-
combination for the slicked-back style of hair. Scrawled beside the picture was a hasilty
written ‘prime example’, in addition to lengthening the chapter title with a, ‘simply ask
Malfoy.’

Harry never thought the Slytherins actually had a sense of humour.

Harry shook his head when he realized that he had fallen into that generalized, prejudiced
thinking again. Old habits die hard, he supposed.

He flipped to the chapters about glamour charms. The wandwork looked surprisingly simple;
what appeared to be challenging was the caster needing the appropriate intent, concentration,
and mental picture of what the glamour was designed to accomplish. A perfect glamour
wouldn’t simply look like what the caster wanted; it would also be stable, durable, and
undetectable.

He kept reading, and a sigh of disappointment escaped him at what he learned. The charms
only changed what could be seen; everything hidden underneath would still be there - scars
would still be palpable, and the charms would not misdirect any kind of medical analysis
spell.

Damn the charms wouldn’t be useful to him, after all. Regardless, he decided to give them a
shot; perhaps he could change his appearance enough to walk around Diagon Alley without
anyone recognizing him. It could also help hide the welts from his dorm mates, just in case
one of them ever walked in while he changed. He didn’t want to explain the half-healed
wounds to anyone, and he certainly didn’t want his roommates to alert an adult.

It would only result in too many questions - questions Harry didn’t want to answer. It wasn’t
as if those answers would actually change anything.

It never changed anything.

Harry pulled his wand out of his sleeve and decided to practise a glamour on the small scar at
the inside of his left hand, where he’d landed in Petunia’s rose bushes after Dudley had
pushed him. It took him several tries until he got it right and the scar vanished as if it had
never been there. He could still feel it, though, just as the book explained.
It reminded him that the problem with the upcoming health examination still wasn’t resolved.
No matter how much he wracked his brain, Harry couldn’t come up with a plan on how to get
out of it.

Harry sighed as he realized that there wasn’t really anything could do. Besides, he was far
better at thinking on his feet and improvising than coming up with plans. He placed the book
back on the shelf and scanned the titles for something else to read.

He settled on a book that looked promising: See What Is Coming – Curses and Their
Counter-Curses. He returned to his armchair in front of the fireplace and curled up, opening
the book. A few minutes later a quiet pop startled him and when he looked up, Harry found a
folded blanket and a steaming mug on the table in front of him. He smiled as he arranged the
blanket around him. Despite the fire and warming charms in the floor rugs, the dungeons
where still rather chilly.

He took a sip from the mug and was pleasantly surprised to find it contained delicious and
thick hot chocolate, and he let out a contented sigh. One of the house-elves, who maintained
the fire and cleaned the common room, must have seen him. Harry whispered a quiet, “Thank
you,” which was answered with a delighted squeak from somewhere in the room.

At least the house-elves still liked him, even if he now wore green and silver.

He shook his head in an attempt to rid himself of the insecure thoughts about what the rest of
the school’s reaction would be to his new sorting and immersed himself in his reading.

Harry was in the middle of turning a page when the sound of footsteps halted his movement.
He looked up and realized that the fire was a bit higher, and light shone through the windows
with a slight green hue. He must have lost track of time while reading and now the first of his
housemates were up and about.

The apprehension about meeting his housemates properly flared up again. As the footsteps
neared the common room, Harry finished turning the page but slipped his wand from his
sweater’s sleeve, hiding it behind the book. He felt somewhat paranoid.

And isn’t that lovely? Not feeling entirely safe in my own common room. Harry pushed down
the rising bitterness.

An older student stepped into the common room from the doorway leading to the girls’
dormitory. Harry thought perhaps she was a sixth or seventh year, and he didn’t know her
name. The girl was taller, perhaps as tall as Ron, who was already heads above most of the
fifth years, and she had dark hair, styled in a short pixie cut.

She halted her steps when she spotted Harry, and then proceeded to hang something on the
announcement board. When she was done, she settled down at one of the tables near the
board and pulled out some parchment. Soon, the scratching of her quill filled the quiet room.

Harry slid his wand back into his sleeve where he still could grab it if he needed it and tried
to shift his concentration back to his book, but little by little more people filtered into the
common room. He sighed as he closed the book and placed the blanket on the back of the
armchair. He put the book back with reluctance; it had certainly been interesting and well-
written. He made a mental note to ask if it was possible to borrow them.

He felt someone watching him as he stood by the bookshelves. It didn’t feel at all hostile, but
appraising, and perhaps even slightly intrigued. He was in no mood to interact with anyone
just yet, so he settled down at a table by the bookshelves tucked in the back of the room.

The more people filed into the common room the more opportunity Harry had to observe his
housemates in curiosity, noting the differences and similarities to the Gryffindors. The
Slytherin students were rather quiet, especially the older years. The younger ones happily
chatted, talking about their summers and their excitement to be at Hogwarts.

No exuberant twin terrors raced through the common room with disgusting cheer and
wakefulness, and no half-dressed Lee Jordan hunted them in revenge for a wakeup call in
form of a bucket full of cold water. No one was hastily trying to finish the summer
assignments, and there was no Ron complaining loudly about being woken up far too early
and being hungry.

But there were also many similarities. Some people discussed the upcoming classes and their
homework. Others settled in around the room, reading or writing letters. Many others
surfaced from the dorms, stumbled in and yawned before falling back to sleep in the
armchairs and settees. Groups of girls giggled and exchanged gossip.

The Slytherins spread out across in the common room, clearly waiting for something as it
was definitely too early for so many people to already be awake. Breakfast was at least still
half an hour away.

Harry caught a glimpse of Malfoy, his platinum blond hair a beacon in the soft light of the
room, as well as the other fifth year boys as they walked in. He could tell the moment Zabini,
noticed him, and watched as he said something to the others. He was totally prepared to be
ignored by his yearmates and was therefore a bit startled when they all made their way over
to him.

“Morning, Potter.” Zabini said, and Harry had the suspicion that they had chosen him to
interact with him because they didn’t really have any kind of negative history. That was also
the case with Nott, but Harry had the impression the brown-haired boy was not nearly as
outspoken as Zabini.

Had they decided it by a vote? Had Zabini volunteered? Or maybe they’d drawn straws? No,
that was probably far too muggle for them.

He nodded at the group. “Morning.”

They took that as an invitation to sit down, and he caught more than one curious glance in his
direction as they settled into an uncomfortable silence. Harry felt his curiosity rise - were
they actually trying to include him? Was it really true that being a Slytherin meant they
actually did mean to treat him as one of their own?

He’d always attributed loyalty to be one of the main traits of Hufflepuff, not Slytherin.

“We didn’t see you get up,” Zabini finally said, breaking the strained silence around the table.
“Are you always awake that early?” Zabini certainly earned brownie points for at least trying,
while Malfoy only muttered something under his breath. Zabini glared at him.

Harry watched the interaction with interest. “Most of the time,” he answered. “What are y-
we waiting for?” He knew his near slip hadn’t gone unnoticed, if the amused glint in Zabini’s
eyes was any indication.

To his surprise it wasn’t the dark-skinned boy who answered, but Malfoy. “It’s tradition for
the whole house to go to the first breakfast of the school year together. Also, the first years
don’t know the way yet.” The way he said it seemed casual, but Harry didn’t miss the small
sneer and the underlying insult that Gryffindor didn’t have such traditions.

Harry just nodded, leaned back in his chair, feeling satisfied when Malfoy looked put out that
he hadn’t risen to the bait. Had it always been that easy to read him?

“So... what do you think of the Slytherin common room and dorms?” Zabini enquired with a
carefully neutral voice.

Harry snorted and nearly laughed out loud. The rest of the table sent him puzzled and
marginally offended looks. “Sorry, but instead of trying to pry information out of me in order
to figure out if... if Slytherin is better or something why not just ask me?”

And that definitely insulted them. Harry was sure he heard Nott mumble something about
“bloody Gryffindors” and “no subtlety at all”. He let their discomfort grow until they were
fidgeting in their seats. How had he ever thought Slytherins were aloof and controlled?

“It’s definitely different,” Harry finally said, “Gryffindor tower doesn’t have as much space
compared to the dungeons, but it’s warmer and cosier than it is here.” He shrugged. “I don’t
think you can really compare them. They’re too different.”

Malfoy opened his mouth but a voice from the front cut in before he could even say one
word.

“Good morning, everybody.” The tall girl with the pixie cut stood in front of the door of the
common room. “I am Zoë Fraser, seventh year, and Head Girl this year. I also want to
welcome you all back to Hogwarts and our new housemates to Slytherin house. I know you
are all eager to go to breakfast but let me say a few words.”

She looked around shortly. “Professor Snape said everything there is to say yesterday. This is
your home ‘til you leave Hogwarts. We are all family now. It is unimportant what your
ancestry is because we see you for your own worth. If you have any problems or questions
you may come to me or the prefects.” Upon those words several people, including Malfoy,
stood up.

“Best come to us before you go to Professor Snape; he is not the easiest person to open up
to.” She smiled at them with a slight wink and Harry heard a few chuckles around the room.
“Now, for the first breakfast of the year we will all go to the Great Hall together. To our first
years, a prefect or myself will show you around the castle in the next few days. You will
hopefully know your way around soon.”

Harry couldn’t see the younger years from where he sat, but he could picture their
expressions. It had taken him a little longer than a week to really remember the way to the
Great Hall and all the classrooms.

The Head Girl led the first years out of the common room and rest of Slytherin house trailed
behind them. Harry tried to drag his feet and take up the back, but with an amused look
Zabini had somehow managed to herd him to the middle of the gaggle. Harry tried to appear
casual, but he could feel glances being thrown in his direction. They still seemed unsure of
what to think about his re-sort. And really, Harry was just as unsure of them as they were of
him; everything he had seen so far from the house of snakes confused him. It was completely
different from what he had expected.

On the way to the Great Hall Harry tried to memorize the route. He’d mostly worked through
that initial shock and his mind was now much more eager to pay attention to his
surroundings. After four years at Hogwarts, he knew his way around and was relieved that he
already knew most of the hallways they used. It wouldn’t be too hard to find his way on his
own.

When they reached the Great Hall Harry realized how much earlier than his normal breakfast
time it was. Thanks to Ron, who generally needed more than one wake-up-call, Harry had
almost always arrived quite late. It was only when Harry had gone alone or with Hermione
that he had been early.

Despite the hour, the other three house tables were far from empty. At least half of
Ravenclaw and a good part of Hufflepuff were already having breakfast, chatting happily.
Over at the Gryffindor table only some of the older years were present, and to Harry’s
surprise two very familiar redheads were among them.

The twins looked up and winked at Harry when Slytherin house walked into the Great Hall.
Nobody looked all that surprised that they all came in together. Snape already sat at the High
Table and his gaze travelled over them, and then with a nod to the Head Girl he went back to
the discussion he was having with Flitwick.

Harry mouthed a ‘good morning’ to Fred and George as he walked to their seats at Zabini’s
side. Eager for a good cup of tea after his too short night and the strange behaviour of the
house of snakes.

He ignored everyone around him as he poured himself a cup with a little bit of milk and
perhaps more sugar than was healthy. The first gulp was heaven and after he drained the cup
completely and reached for the pot to prepare another, he registered that the surrounding
Slytherins watched him with amused but also slightly disgusted expressions. Everyone but
Crabbe and Goyle, at least; they were fixated on filling their plates.

“What?” His question brought them out of whatever stupor they’d been in and they began to
pour themselves tea and filling their plates.

“Sweet tooth?” Zabini asked from his right side.

Harry looked down at his teacup where he had just dumped a third spoonful of sugar and
shrugged. “Yeah. So what?” It wasn’t like he had many sweets while growing up, so he
savoured that he simply could put as much sugar into his tea as he wanted.

“Too much sugar is detrimental to your health,” Greengrass said; it was the first time she’d
addressed Harry directly. “It’s true that our bodies need a lot of energy in order to perform
magic adequately, but we are not immune to all of the problems a high-sugar diet can bring
later in life, like high blood pressure. It’s better to gain the necessary energy by eating
carbohydrates instead of overly fatty or sweet food.” She lectured from beside Zabini and
Harry felt eerily reminded of Hermione, who, thanks to having dentists for parents, was
slightly obsessed with teeth-care and therefore sugar intake.

He grabbed a bowl of porridge, topped it with nuts and fruits and a somewhat absurd amount
of brown sugar. Greengrass narrowed her eyes at him, but Harry only grinned at her and
savoured his first bite.

“So sue me. If one of the darkest wizards of our time couldn’t kill me, I don’t think I have to
be afraid of sugar. I’m sure the mighty Dark Lord will kill me before sugar ever has a
chance.” He was prepared to be reprimanded for his slight mockery, but not for the reaction
to his words.

Zabini’s fork paused halfway to his mouth and he looked at Harry in shock, and Malfoy made
a choking sound around his mouthful of eggs. Nott spluttered, and Parkinson and Greengrass
looked at him with nearly identical expressions of horror. Davis and Bulstrode tried to hide
the snorts escaping them before they gave up and grinned at him. Meanwhile, Crabbe and
Goyle didn’t react at all, occupied with the food in front of them.

Harry tried to suppress a laugh, but he snickered. “Merlin, your faces. What? Can’t a guy
make a joke anymore?”

Zabini slowly lowered his fork and frowned at him. “How can you joke about someone trying
to kill you? About your own mortality?”

Harry shrugged. “When it happens every single year - sometimes more than once a year - you
tend to get used to it,” he said. “What should I do instead? Hide and tremble in fear? That
wouldn’t help any more than getting angry all the time.” Not that he could change that… he
paused, realizing that the anger that filled him during the entire summer was only a small
flame at the back of his mind. It was still with him, but muted.

He took another bite, while the others composed themselves again. The gears seemed to be
turning in their heads as they digested what he said.
“So, you’ve been in mortal danger more than once?” Davis asked, curious.

“Every year.” They certainly looked intrigued at that. Harry didn’t know exactly what
compelled him to so - hadn’t they heard the stories? - but he elaborated. “In first year, we
had the troll in the bathroom, and then snake-face...” He ignored the choking sounds around
him in response to his nickname for Voldemort. “... on the back of our Defence professor’s
head, and he tried to kill me. In second year, there was a rogue bludger that tried to kill me, a
cheat for a Defence professor who tried to obliviate me and Ron. Then there was a teenage
version of snake-face, plus his pet Basilisk, who both tried to kill me.”

They all stared at him with wide eyes, and it appeared that his audience had grown as a few
students sitting nearby tried and failed to appear that they weren’t listening. Harry found this
all quite amusing; for some reason, shocking Slytherins into speechlessness was really fun.

“In third year, there were Dementors that kept coming after me, an escaped convict who was
supposedly trying to kill me, and let’s not forget the best Defence Professor we’ve ever had,
but forgot to take Wolfsbane one night and turned into a werewolf that tried to eat me.” He
shook his head sadly.

“In our fourth year, there was the Triwizard Tournament, which was full of things trying to
kill me, and a demented ex-auror for a Defence Professor who was not what he seemed to be.
And then there was the...” He trailed off; as amusing as it was, he didn’t want to elaborate.
Most of them knew what had happened in the graveyard, likely from sources that he didn’t
want to think about.

“This year’s series already started with the Dementor trying to suck out my soul, and I have
high hopes that our Defence Professor will carry on the tradition of every Defence professor
trying to kill me. I’ve already got the feeling that she doesn’t much like me.” He snorted.
“But if we use ‘disliking me as a scale for the likelihood of someone trying to kill me,
Professor Snape should have given it a shot the moment I stepped off the Hogwarts express
in first year.” He let his gaze drift up in the direction of the High Table. “But really - nobody
who wears that much pink is up to anything good.”

At his words all eyes followed his up to the High Table, where their new Defense Professor
Dolores Umbridge was trying to engage their Head of House in conversation; a sickening,
saccharine smile on her face. Harry absently wondered if she’d been in Slytherin herself.

“Well,” Davis said in a dry tone, “if Professor Snape doesn’t kill her, the curse on the post
will at least ensure that she won’t stay here longer than a year.” They watched Snape’s face
project more than a hint of disgust as Umbridge tittered and smiled and continued her
apparently uninteresting, dull talk.

Harry sighed. “Just my luck. He’s gonna be completely irritated by the time I have my
meeting with him.”

“That doesn’t matter,” Bulstrode said quietly “You are a Slytherin now. He will treat you
fairly.”

“Not behind closed doors,” Harry muttered, but kept his voice low so that no one heard him.
The rest of the breakfast had been surprisingly pleasant, and Harry could at least give his new
housemates the credit for trying.

He had found that Davis and Bulstrode had a dry kind of humour he could see himself getting
used to, and they at least seemed to be able to handle his own brand of gallows humour.
Zabini seemed friendly enough. Nott didn’t say much, but Harry caught him a few times with
a small grin on his face, and he’d overheard a few snarky remarks the brown-haired boy
tended to mutter under his breath. Harry was fairly sure that Nott was surprisingly witty and
funny, at least in his head.

Greengrass was odd, lecturing about everything in a confusing cross between arrogant and
caring. He didn’t really know her, but he had the terrifying suspicion that behind her cold and
haughty exterior was a mother-hen just as bad as Mrs. Weasley.

Malfoy, on the other hand, was completely confusing. Harry had been getting sneers and
taunts from him for years, and he was used to being ridiculed and insulted. Malfoy was
instead eerily neutral and even civil.

He remained tight-lipped without being rude. He listened to the conversations the others drug
Harry into. Harry could practically feel Malfoy’s gaze on him, and every time Harry had
looked over at him, he found intense grey eyes and a calculating frown, like he was staring at
a puzzle he wanted to solve but didn’t have all the pieces to.

Malfoy’s constant inspection threw Harry the most, but he wasn’t the only one. There were
others who still watched him when they thought his attention was elsewhere, expressions of
appraisal and intrigue drawn across their faces

Harry always thought that the Ravenclaws were the ones obsessed with riddles and puzzles.

He supposed he could understand why they studied him; he’d suddenly been re-sorted to their
house and had completely rattled their conceptions of him. However, the constant feeling of
being observed exhausted him

Even so, his first breakfast as a snake could have been worse. He found Hermione at the
lions’ table afterward and they promised to meet in the library before lunch. He looked
forward to finally getting to spend time with one of his best friends.

But first, he had to face the moment he’d truly been dreading.

He stood before the door to Professor Snape’s office, trying to find the courage to knock.
Chapter End Notes

AN: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

First published: 14th of January 2019

Last edited: 4th of February 2019
 Scrutiny and Subterfuge
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.

AN: Thank you all for reading, subscribing, bookmarking and commenting. And for all
the kudos!
It is always nice to know that people appreciate what I write, and I love the ones with
constructive criticism.
You all deserve hugs and lots of salted-caramel ice-cream or Oreos, whatever you prefer.

And to the ones leaving insulting and negative reviews: nobody is forcing you to read
this story. Stop reading if you don’t like it. But at least most of them make me laugh,
seriously I have a twisted humour.

This chapter is longer than the previous ones, but I didn’t want it to end at the typical
length, because then we would be in a cliff-hanger and that would have been too mean.
But I don’t think the next one will be as long as this.

This chapter is beta’ed by the wonderful Vichan and Cameron Lindsey. Thanks to you
two, you are the best!

Have fun reading.

On with the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

‘Breathe. This can’t be any worse than one of his detentions.’ Harry tried to calm himself as
much as possible before he knocked on the office door.

Still, a little uneasiness was settling in his stomach, because it certainly was different than
detentions.

For the last four years, Snape had only been his Potions professor. Harry was about to face
him as his Head of House, and if he had learned anything about Slytherin in less than twenty-
four-hours as a snake, it’s that their Head of House didn’t handle things the same way as
McGonagall.

“Come in, Mr Potter,” his Potions professor answered. The change of address startled him
and he nearly stumbled into the door; he had just been Potter for so long. Harry caught
himself, took another breath then opened the door to step inside. Snape sat behind his desk
and gestured to the seat in front of him, which Harry took, his back stiff. The professor
regarded him with an unreadable expression before he spoke with a rather calm and collected
voice.

“Mr Potter, your placement so late in your education is highly unusual, but nevertheless, you
are now part of Slytherin house,” he said, “Despite our… unfavourable relationship so far, I
am now responsible for you and I take this duty seriously.” For a brief moment Snape looked
as if he was actually pained to say such a thing. “This includes your physical and emotional
wellbeing. If any student is giving you trouble due to your new sorting, your previous
standing in Slytherin, or because of certain… allegiances, you may come to me.” Snape
paused. “You must come to me if anyone is threatening you. It will not be tolerated.”

Harry suppressed a snort; he knew that he would never take Snape up on his offer, even if he
had managed to say it without looking like he had bitten a lemon. Even so, his uneasiness
grew with the professor’s statement. Never had an adult announced that they were taking his
well-being seriously in any way and Harry wasn’t really sure how to handle it.

Then the professor’s eyes turned scornful and derogative, an all-too familiar expression.

“Now - let me make one thing very clear to you, Potter. I’ve watched you running around the
castle, blatantly disregarding the rules – which are in place to keep students and therefore you
and your friends safe – with minimal consequences.” Snape narrowed his eyes at him.
“Professor McGonagall and Professor Dumbledore may have given you leeway so far, but I
certainly will not do so. You will abide by all of the rules or you will learn how I punish
members of my house. Do not foolishly believe that your fame will help you in any way, and
your arrogant behaviour will do you no favour.” Snape sneered at him and his cold glare
bored into Harry.

The uneasiness in Harry died down. That was the Snape he was used to, the one he knew how
to handle and how to react to. He didn’t say anything but simply met Snape’s stare with his
own.

He had no delusions that Snape would actually treat him the same as the other Slytherins.
Their animosity was too great. The man had hated him from the very first look. Why should
him wearing green change any of that?

The professor was quiet for a few moments before picking up one of the parchments from the
pile on his desk. He unrolled it and started to speak in an unsettling calm and controlled
voice. Harry would have preferred the sneer.

“What we will talk about today is your school work, how you are settling in so far, and about
anything you or I think needs to be discussed,” he said. “We will also discuss your medical
report if there is something that needs to be discussed. Let us start with your school work.”

The change in topic threw Harry a little. He wanted to talk about his school work? Did Heads
of Houses do something like this? Did teachers?

The uneasiness rose up again.

“I have surveyed your performance report. Your grades in Defence Against the Dark Arts are
at the top of your class.” Had that been a compliment? Snape continued. “Charms, Herbology
and Transfiguration are all above average. If you would be graded in these subjects based on
O.W.L. standard now, you would receive at least an A. Your wand work seems satisfying
enough, and with a little effort in your theoretical work you could raise your grade to an E,
perhaps even an O.”

Harry was stunned. No teacher before had ever spoken with him about his schoolwork; not
even Remus had sat down with him to discuss how he was doing. And here Snape, of all
people, talked with him about it in a surprisingly civil fashion.

“If you need help understanding the theory or need assistance in the construction of an essay,
I recommend that you attend tutoring classes,” Snape continued. “They take place every
Tuesday and Thursday in the classroom next to my office from 3 PM until dinner. The upper
years will be available to assist you in any subject you need. Additionally, Mr. Malfoy or
Miss Davis would both be perfect choices from your year to ask for help. As the time
between dinner and curfew is to be spent in the common room, that time may also be used for
homework or tutoring.”

There was absolutely no way in hell Harry would ask any of the Slytherins - especially
Malfoy, of all people - for help with his homework. He paused in his thoughts and inwardly
sighed. They had been rather civil thus far - friendly, even - and they were his housemates
until he left Hogwarts. Perhaps he should ask… it wasn’t like he had class with Ron and
Hermione anymore. That thought made him equally sad and angry.

What would it mean for their friendship? Since coming to Hogwarts, he always had been
together with Ron - in their dorm, in class, in the Great Hall. Their friendship had grown with
the proximity. With Harry in Slytherin, they would have to plan and arrange times to see each
other - that was if Ron was even still interested in keeping their friendship. He had to! Four
years of friendship couldn’t be erased that easily.

Harry shoved the thoughts aside and concentrated on Snape, who continued.

“Care of Magical Creatures also seems satisfying, if we overlook the competence level of the
professor.”

Harry clenched his teeth. He didn’t think for one minute that the slur against Hagrid had not
been deliberate, but Snape continued without a glance at him. Perhaps that hadn’t been meant
as a provocation of Harry, but simply Snape being - well, Snape.

“Your performance in Astronomy could stand some improvement, as well as in Divination

and History. Your grades in those classes are abysmal.” Even that insulting statement was
made in a rather flat tone. Where was the mockery? The resentment? Could Snape’s
treatment of Harry really change that much simply due to Harry’s change of house? He was
practically dizzy from all the confusion.

“Regarding Divination, you are the only Slytherin student from your year taking it. You will
therefore take part in the Hufflepuffs’ class.” Then Snape’s tone changed briefly to the one
Harry was used to hearing from him: hard, acidic, and slightly mocking. “And concerning
your incompetence in Potions, I don’t believe we have to speak of it.” His gaze bored into
Harry’s, but there were too many expressions in his professor’s face to distinguish them
completely. Anger, resentment, rancour, loathing – yes – but there were definitely more.

The professor’s attention turned back to the parchment. “For Potions, Divination, and
History, a tutor will be assigned to you in order to improve your performance to at least a
passing grade in each subject. We will see who is available during the first tutoring session.
Any concerns or questions so far?”

Harry briefly wondered if he should ask if it was possible to change classes – Divination in
particular - but decided against it and shook his head. “No, sir.”

“Very well.” Snape set down the parchment that evidently held Harry’s grades and began
paging through another stack. “Now, then... I read your medical history provided by Pomfrey
and I must say the amount of time you have spent in the Hospital Wing is… impressive. I
know of most of your escapades from the previous years and can link some of the findings to
this, but I’d like some clarification on a few events.” He seemed to find the parchment he was
looking for and pulled it out. “The magical exhaustion at the end of first year was due to your
confrontation with Professor Quirrell?”

Harry nodded, nausea squirming in his stomach. What all showed up in his medical file? And
why did Snape want to talk about it? The whole situation – sitting with Snape in his office,
speaking without exchanging a single insult – was rather disconcerting.

“Verbal confirmation, if you would, Potter.” The professor’s voice cut through his thoughts.

“Yes, sir,” Harry replied quietly.

“How did you manage to lose all the bones in your arm in second year?” Snape looked down
the bridge of long nose at him, still calm, still controlled, but not as cold as before.

“It was broken by a bludger and Lockhart vanished the bones in his attempt to heal them,” he
answered reluctantly. Snape stared at him like Harry was a puzzle he didn’t have all the
pieces to.

Snape finally nodded and his gaze wandered down the parchment. Harry prayed that he
wouldn’t ask about the events at the end of second year. He hadn’t gone to Madam Pomfrey
and nobody insisted that he go. He was quite sure being bitten by a Basilisk – even if healed
by Phoenix tears – would have merited further medical attention and medical scans, and
Harry had been quite happy to avoid them.

He wasn’t even sure if he had ever mentioned the bite to Dumbledore. If Snape learned of it,
Harry was certain that would result in suspicion and would merit an extra trip to the
infirmary. He still wasn’t even sure how he could evade the one already set for today.

“In your third year, Madam Pomfrey had to treat you three times due to Dementor exposure -
a check-up directly upon arrival at Hogwarts, after the attack during a Quidditch match, as
well as at the end of the year, when you foolishly tried to save Black.” Snape sneered the
name in disgust. “You have quite a severe reaction to Dementors, I gather.”
It was not phrased as a question and Harry didn’t answer. He certainly would not tell Snape
what he heard when a Dementor was near. He shrugged as he felt the man’s gaze, but for
once it didn’t feel threatening or scornful.

“The treatments during the Triwizard Tournament are also listed here, as well as the stay after
the third task. Acromantula bite, nerve-damage, a rather long and deep cut in the pit of your
arm and magical exhaustion.” Snape paused after listing what was noted on the parchment.
“‘Nerve-damage?’” he repeated, giving Harry a questioning look. He sat stiff in his chair,
uncomfortable with Snape’s scrutiny. He didn’t want to remember that particular day.

But Snape’s expression demanded an answer.

“Er…” Harry cleared his throat. “Vol…” Snape’s sharp glare stopped him. “At the
graveyard… he liked to use Crucio.”

Something unreadable flickered in the professor’s eyes. “How often?”

“Twice.”

The man made a noise that Harry couldn’t read - not quite a gasp, and it didn’t sound like
surprise. That expression that Harry couldn’t quite read almost seemed like concern.

‘No,’ Harry decided. ‘Couldn’t be, not from Snape.’

“No lasting effects? Spasms? Numbness or stiffness?”

“No.” The questions and the expression rattled him. His answer wasn’t entirely truthful;
sometimes the knuckles in his right hand were stiff, but he was almost positive that was
because Dudley had once slammed his hand in the car door.

Snape’s unsettling, studious look continued for another moment or two before he continued.
“A rather unusual assembly of injuries over the years. Despite this, there is nothing in your
medical report of typical ailments - no colds, no flu.” The tone suggested that an answer was
needed.

“I don’t get ill very often,” Harry said evasively. It wasn’t really untrue - he didn’t often get
ill enough to warrant a trip to the infirmary. When he had gotten ill in second year he had
nearly gone, but the whole situation with the petrifications and Slytherin’s heir made Harry
decide against it. And it had only been a cold. Ron and Hermione had attributed his silence,
pale face, and fatigue to the hostile atmosphere in the school.

“It seemed you received the necessary shots at your Muggle primary school, but no follow-
ups were ever done. Care to explain?”

Harry felt more and more like he was being interrogated.

“The D – my aunt and uncle must have forgotten during the summer holidays, I think.” He
shrugged and the professor narrowed his eyes at the gesture.
“I will write a note to Madam Pomfrey to get you caught up with preventative potions.”
Snape’s quill scratched across the parchment.

“What also seem to be missing are the annual health checks. Did Professor McGonagall not
send you Madam Pomfrey for those?” Now Snape’s voice was flat, as if daring him to lie.

Harry squirmed in his seat. “She does - I just missed it one or two times…” He trailed off.

“Or all times. Above a simple health check, Potter? Or do you believe you know more about
your own health than a certified healer?” Snape’s lips curled into a mocking smile.

Harry decided not to answer and ignored the piercing gaze.

“Madam Pomfrey will be waiting for you when we are finished here. You will immediately
go to the infirmary, and this will be rectified. As Madam Pomfrey has had you in her care
more than once, I don’t expect the health check to reveal anything surprising; nevertheless, it
has to be done. But I do hope, Mr Potter, that nothing aside from a simple cold will hold you
in the infirmary from now on.”

Harry understood the underlying message just fine and could only barely suppress a sigh. It
wasn’t that he searched for trouble; trouble just always found him.

Snape set the quill aside and folded his hands under his chin, giving Harry a rather intense
look, and Harry had a sudden panicking suspicion that he could read minds.

“Now, are there any other issues you want to discuss?”

Harry shook his head. There was no way that he would discuss anything with Snape. “No,
sir.” So far, the Slytherins had treated him rather normal. Nobody had tried to steal his stuff
or hex him or anything of the sort. Nobody had even insulted him – apart from Malfoy and
Parkinson the previous evening, but that was to be expected.

“This unusual change will take everyone some time to grow adjusted to, but I have every
faith in my snakes. Now, Madam Pomfrey is waiting for you. Go along.” Snape dismissed
him with a gesture towards the door.

If someone had told him that a civil, insult-free conversation with his most hated teacher was
possible, he would have believed the person to be crazy. But he indeed managed to have a
civil, insult-free conversation with the professor, and wasn’t sure what he should make of it.

Harry took his time on the way to the hospital wing, his mind going in a hundred directions
all at once. If he didn’t appear Snape would surely hear about it, ask questions, and then drag
him there. If he let Madam Pomfrey perform the health check, there would be questions,
regardless.
No matter what, Harry was going to have to face someone questioning his physical state.

He slipped into a nearby bathroom and locked the door behind him. He shrugged off his robe
and then slipped out of the hoodie and tee he wore beneath it. Harry approached the mirrors
above the sinks and inspected his back; there were a handful of half-healed welts scattered
across his skin, one curled around his ribcage in a mockery of a tattoo. The numerous bruises
stood out harshly under the bathroom light.

He sighed. How could he hide this? Even a superficial medical scan would make the injuries
apparent. The bruises he could explain with some physical activity – rugby, American
football, or even brawling.

The welts were a different story. He was lucky Uncle Vernon had not used the side with the
belt buckle, or they would have been much deeper. As long as Harry was careful, these
wouldn’t even leave a scar.

Still, there was no explanation for the wounds without raising Madam Pomfrey’s suspicion.

Ideas raced through his head, even ideas that were reckless and foolish and certain to go
wrong. There was no possible way he could sneak into the Hospital Wing, steal some healing
potion, and heal himself before he had the check-up. He was already down to the wire, and he
wasn’t even sure he knew what type of potions to look for. He heard a voice – which sounded
unsurprisingly like Hermione – telling him what a terrible plan it was and how there was no
way it would work.

He discarded that idea with a sigh.

He dressed again and splashed his face with cold water. How could he get out of this
predicament? He wished he could ask Sirius, but he had no means of contacting Sirius.
Besides, his godfather would surely want to know why he needed a way to hide injuries from
a medical scan.

Running a hand through his hair, Harry stared sightlessly into the mirror and sighed again,
trying to think of what he actually knew about the medical checks he’d never attended. He
remembered hearing from his former Gryffindor roommates that the health check was usually
just a diagnostic spell; Madam Pomfrey apparently didn’t ask anyone to disrobe unless
something came up in her spell.

With that, it hit him.

The wards he had put on his bed prevented spells, noise, and even objects or people from
passing through, hiding and concealing what was behind them. The wards were based and
anchored in spells and runes, linked and combined to direct Harry’s intentions.

Yes, runes were theoretically only letters, but if it was possible to use runes as anchors and
templates for spells, like they could be used in wards, why couldn’t it be possible with
medical scans? He just needed a way to prevent the scan from penetrating all the way down
to the injuries, much like he’d prevented spells from penetrating his bed curtains.
He stared at his reflection. Was it possible? He would need to write the runes on his clothes
or skin. He gripped the edge of the sink tight as he processed the idea.

Theoretically, it should be possible. He needed to look at his books to make sure, but the
feeling of coming up with such a solid foundation renewed his determination.

Harry unlocked the door and ran all the way back to the Slytherin common room, grateful
that he remembered the way without an issue. He skidded to a halt in front of the stone wall
concealing the entrance and tried to even out his breathing before whispering the password in
an urgent tone.

Once inside he saw that the common room was occupied, and a few surprised looks were sent
his way as he hurried through, but he ignored them and walked briskly down to his dorm.
The fifth-year dorm was thankfully empty, and Harry swiftly searched through his trunk for
the books he had brought with him from the library at Grimmauld place.

He knew he had to hurry. He wasn’t sure if Madam Pomfrey would alert Snape if he did not
appear immediately.

He began to flip through the books on warding, ancient runes, as well as some of the darker
books he had brought with him.

It felt like a lifetime until he found the information, he needed in one of the darker books -
Magic of Flesh and Blood. However, he certainly would have to change the procedure
described there; there was no way he was carving the runes into his own flesh.

But, yes, he could write runes on a living being, and combine them with spells to strengthen
their protections. As far as Harry could tell they would only hold against simple scanning
spells; for more invasive spells the runes would need to be written directly on the organs and
bones. The pictures beside the description were rather gruesome, and Harry had no interest in
causing himself further injury. They would also not hold for very long, and if he had to
remove his clothes the runes would be immediately seen, which would result in a whole
different series of questions that Harry wouldn’t want to answer.

But it was better than nothing. It was crazy, but Harry was rather good with crazy, reckless
plans.

He transfigured a quill into a brush, grabbed an ink bottle, and went to the bathroom to hide
in a shower stall. He definitely didn’t want his new house mates to walk in while he painted
runes on himself. He started painting on nearly every part of his body - on his stomach, his
arms, his chest, his ribcage, his legs, and the parts of his back and shoulder blades he could
reach. As he moved the brush from limb to limb Harry realized that there was scarcely a
single part of his body that Vernon hadn’t left bruised.

The runes for concealment and evasion should misdirect the medical scanning spell. The
runes for deception and illusion would be combined with the glamour charm he had just
learned that morning, which would allow him to hide the bruises and welts. He used the rune
for truth to tie the glamour spells and illusion runes together, and then added the rune for
health so Pomfrey’s medical scanning spell should give her normal read-out.
The runes alone would do nothing, but linked and combined with warding spells, which used
them as a template and anchor, it should – it had to function. Harry might have been new at
using runes and building wards, but he didn’t have a choice; he had to make sure that they
worked.

Harry took a deep breath as he set the brush aside and lifted his wand. The glamour charm
came first, followed by the spell to link all of the runes. Then he performed a spell to activate
and raise a ward that would anchor the runes and function based on their intent. He put as
much magic into it as he dared. He felt the magic settle in and around his skin. It was an odd
feeling; like an electrical current traveling all over his body.

He looked into the mirror and couldn’t help but laugh. He’d succeeded; the bruises and welts
were no longer visible and when he carefully traced his ribcage where the large welt had
been, he couldn’t even feel the injury anymore.

But he looked completely insane with the runes covering his skin. His hair was completely
out of control as always, and his green eyes seemed brighter than usual. He seemed to be the
perfect picture of madness.

Harry shrugged and turned around to inspect his back, where he could only reach his hips and
parts of his shoulder blades with the brush, but the skin there also appeared unmarked and
uninjured.

He knew he had to hurry. He’d never tried anything like this and wasn’t sure how long it
would actually hold. He felt the buzz of the ‘body-ward’ traveling across his skin, working to
fulfil its purpose, but the magic he had put in it would not hold forever.

Harry dressed carefully after he was sure the ink was dry, placed the brush, ink and books
back into his trunk, and finally made his way to the infirmary.

Madam Pomfrey was busy with a young Hufflepuff when Harry walked in, but she gestured
towards one of the beds when she saw him enter.

Harry took a seat on the edge of the bed and tried desperately not to sweat; sweating would
smear the runes and break down the wards on his body. But he was nervous; what if his crazy
idea didn’t work? If it was that easy, somebody certainly would have done it before, and
Pomfrey would have caught them.

He took a deep breath and desperately tried to calm the chaotic thoughts in his mind.

When Madam Pomfrey finally approached him, he forced his panic down. There was no way
out now.
“Hello, Mr Potter. I really hope not to see you very often this year.” She gave him a kind
smile.

“I will try my best, Madam Pomfrey.” He was grateful that his voice didn’t shake.

“So, let’s see.” She flicked her wand and a parchment came flying out of her office. “Ah,
Severus commented on the lack of health check reports from the previous years and that it
appears you missed some vaccinations. He is always very thorough with checking on his
wards.”

She read further. “It does appear that we missed some health checks.” She regarded Harry
with a frown. “All of them, in fact.”

“Er… the beginnings of the school years were always kinda chaotic, and I forgot… I think.”
Harry scratched his neck and looked up at her with a sheepish expression. She continued to
regard him with a measuring look, but the frown disappeared.

“If you say so, dear,” she said. “It seems this was partially my fault; I never realized that the
reports were non-existent. I will be sure not to overlook it again.” She gave him a stern look
Harry gulped and nodded. There would be no more evading the yearly visit. “Now, then -
let’s not wait any longer. I will perform a standard medical scanning spell. One copy will be
sent to your Head of House, and the other will be placed into your medical file.”

She lifted her wand and Harry stiffened.

“This will only take a few minutes at most,” Madam Pomfrey said. “It will look for present
illness or injuries, will check your weight, height, blood pressure, nourishments, test for
allergies and the like. It is not a deep scan, which I only will perform if something of concern
is found in this one.”

The panic was back again; he had completely forgotten about his weight and he wasn’t sure if
a few weeks with Mrs Weasley’s food would counter the poor nourishment he certainly had
from the Dursleys.

But Madam Pomfrey was already waving her wand and Harry felt the buzzing on his skin
react to the magic settling over him. It was a very strange sensation. He could feel how the
matron’s spell flowed through him – searching, scanning, analysing - but he could also feel
how it was misdirected from the welts; it was as if her magic was skipping over parts of his
skin.

Harry felt beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He didn’t dare to breathe.

Madam Pomfrey waved her wand again over a blank parchment and the magic flowing
through Harry left him and sank down into the sheet. Writing appeared, eerily similar to how
the words had appeared in Riddle’s diary.

The matron picked up the parchment and started reading, nodding here and there, but also –
to Harry’s not diminishing panic - frowning at some points.
“First, Mr Potter - what happened to your hand?”

Startled, Harry looked at his hand and groaned. He had forgotten what had happened in the
shower earlier that morning and the wards didn’t seem to extend to his hands.

“Mr Potter?”

“I slipped and fell in the shower,” he mumbled. He received a disapproving look from the
matron, who carefully took his hand and examined the damage.

“Well, nothing is broken,” she said. “But it is a rather serious contusion. I will give you a
salve for the bruising and a potion for the pain and to accelerate healing.” She left Harry to
get what she needed and returned with bandages, a small container, and a potion. She
instructed Harry to drink the potion, then she spread cream from the container over his
knuckles and immobilised the hand by wrapping it in bandages. The cream felt soothing and
cool on his skin and Harry registered that the throbbing he had unconsciously ignored was
subsiding.

He gave her a grateful smile and rested his hand in his lap. Madam Pomfrey looked at him in
approval and settled on a chair beside him.

“Now, Harry - let’s talk about your medical scan results. I am a little concerned over some of
the findings.”

‘Findings?’ She wanted to talk about what the scan had found? What had it found? There was
something to talk about? Harry felt nausea rising in his gut.

Madam Pomfrey continued. “It says you are rather underweight for your height, and your
height itself is short for your age. You also show signs of malnourishment, which may
explain the lack of height and weight. The malnourishment also compromises your immune
system. We’ll have to postpone your missing preventative potions until it is more stable.”

Harry’s mind was racing. “What… what does that mean?”

She sighed and a look of concern blanketed her face. “That means, Mr Potter, that your
immune system is rather weak and can’t fight off diseases as your schoolmates can,” she said.
“You can come down with an illness much easier, the symptoms would be far more severe,
and the recovery times would be longer. A cold which would give, let’s say, Mr Weasley,
only an inconvenient cough, could lead to bronchitis or even pneumonia in your case.”

Harry looked at her with wide eyes, shocked. She patted his uninjured hand reassuringly.

“This will be easily solved if we improve your general health, and to do that we need to
improve your nourishment levels,” she said. “Now, Mr Potter, why is your weight below the
acceptable level and why do your nourishment levels suggest starvation?” Her level gaze
rested on him.

Harry tried to hide the nervous twitch of his fingers in his lap. He couldn’t look into the
nurse’s eyes, and his mind grasped for something to say. “After what happened at the end of
last year… I wasn’t… I couldn’t…” He wasn’t completely sure what he wanted to say, but
Madam Pomfrey patted his hand again and regarded him with a kind but sad, almost
motherly expression.

“I understand, Mr Potter. I assume you had sleeping problems and little to no appetite?”

Harry nodded, relief washing over him. She was giving him an explanation without him
having to say anything.

“Did you also have problems with keeping food down? Fatigue or restlessness?” The
motherly demeanor she’d shown earlier was gone; she was all business.

Harry shook his head. “I… didn’t eat regularly… but had no problem keeping it down.”

“That is good. I will prescribe you a nourishment potion, which you will take with your
breakfast. But until your weight is at an acceptable range there will be no flying for you,
young man.” She gave him a stern look that told him she was not to be argued with. Harry
tried to look crestfallen, but inwardly he was relieved; he didn’t need an excuse as to why he
wouldn’t try out for his new house team.

“If you are having issues sleeping, I could give you a sleeping potion, but these are addictive
and shouldn’t be used too often.” Her concerned gaze made him uneasy.

“No, that’s…. that’s ok.” Harry evaded her gaze, but she seemed to hear more in his voice
than he wanted.

“Harry, do you have sleeping problems?”

He shoved the rising feelings from the nightmare this morning aside. “Sometimes.” He still
didn’t look in her direction, but her expression told him she knew what he was not saying.

She sighed. “I really don’t want to give you Dreamless Sleep, but…” She paused in
consideration “But we can try something different. I will order a house-elf to bring you a cup
of tea every evening. It will be brewed from relaxing and soothing herbs and is known to help
with these kinds of ailments. Now, fatigue or restlessness?” Madam Pomfrey enquired, her
expression demanding an answer.

“Both.” Harry answered reluctantly and she nodded in understanding.

“Both should get better with quality sleep and a general improvement of your health,” she
said. “But even with the nourishment potion you must eat balanced meals and drink plenty of
fluids. If you can’t eat much at one meal, try to snack during the day. Healthy snacks, Mr
Potter - not sweets. Vegetables, fruits, nuts, and dairy products like yoghurt. I will inform the
kitchen to provide them for you.” She gave him another no-nonsense look and then made
several notes on the parchment. “I want to check on your progress in a few weeks. I will send
you a note for the follow-up and will inform Severus of the date and time.”

Harry nearly choked. He had to go through all that again?

Madam Pomfrey rolled the parchment, then stood up and smiled at him. “If your issues with
sleeping do not improve, please come back, Mr Potter. That is not something which should
go overlooked. Your Head of House will get your updated medical file, so be prepared to be
called for another talk. Severus is very invested in the wellbeing of his Slytherins. If you have
nothing else, you are free to go.”

Relief washed over him as Harry left the infirmary and headed back to the dorms. He needed
a shower to remove the ink from his skin. He was still a little dazed. That had gone much
better then he even had hoped to imagine. It seemed that for once his sheer dumb luck had
played in his favour.

But what did she mean he should be prepared to talk with Severus again?

He found his answer waiting in the common room. Harry had not even taken one step when
Head Girl Fraser appeared beside him.

“Potter, Professor Snape wants to talk with you. He is waiting in his office.”

He nodded at her, turned around and left the common room. He could handle another talk
with Snape, but he already felt completely exhausted when the day wasn’t even halfway
done. Merlin, he hadn’t even started classes yet.

He felt drained when he knocked at the Snape’s door for the second time that day.

“Mr Potter, come in and sit down.” It was as if he hadn’t left the office at all. Snape still sat at
his desk, a stack of parchment in front of him. Harry sank into the chair he had vacated only
an hour ago.

“I received the report from Madam Pomfrey.” Nothing in Snape’s voice or face revealed his
thoughts about it. He went directly to the matter at hand. “As your lack of nourishment is
dangerously low, I will brew a specialised potion myself. She informed you that it is to be
taken every morning with breakfast?” His dark gaze found Harry’s, who nodded.

“The prefects, the Head Girl, or I will take note that the potion is taken correctly.”

Harry frowned. Would that mean they would be watching him? He didn’t like it. But at least
it didn’t seem like Snape wanted to talk about the reasons for his health problems.

“But even the best potion will not do any good without proper balanced meals.” The
Professor lectured him while holding Harry’s gaze. “I’ve already informed the house-elves to
put a specific diet plan together for you. Your personalized meals will appear directly before
you. This doesn’t mean that you are not allowed to eat any of the other food on the table, but
you should finish everything on your plate before engorging yourself with whatever rubbish
teenagers prefer these days. Additionally, there will be snacks provided for you in the
common room.”

Harry squirmed under the intense stare and simply nodded again. Snape’s voice was flat and
controlled; Harry had absolutely no clue as to what the professor was thinking.

“The prefects have been informed about your diet plan, the immune deficiency, and the no
flying rule. The Slytherin prefects and I will be keeping an eye on you. If you feel even the
slightest bit ill you will immediately come to one of us. This is no situation for foolish
recklessness.” The Professor’s voice made it clear that he would not accept any objections.

Witnessing Snape – or any adult, really - showing an unfamiliar interest in his well-being left
Harry feeling unbalanced - again.

“Madam Pomfrey also remarked that you have sleeping problems and prescribed an herbal
tea,” Snape continued. “You are to drink it immediately before sleeping. If the tea doesn’t
help, I will consult with Madam Pomfrey about alternative solutions, as I am also reluctant to
give a highly addictive potion to a teenager on a regular basis.”

Snape rested his chin on his folded hands.

“She also had to treat your hand due to a contusion.” His gaze wandered to the bandaged
hand resting in Harry’s lap. “How did this happen?”

“Er…”

“Do not even think to lie, Mr Potter,” Snape said.

“I… punched a wall, sir.”

If the situation hadn’t been so surreal, Harry would have laughed at the perplexed expression
on the man in front of him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen such a look grace Snape’s features.

“You… punched a wall?” Snape slowly repeated, blinking.

Harry nodded. “Yes. This morning, in the shower.”

“And why, Mr Potter, did you feel the need to... punch a wall?” Snape’s drawl made it clear
that Slytherins didn’t tend to throw their fists into walls.

Harry shrugged. “I was… a little overwhelmed with the situation, sir.”

Snape stayed silent while scrutinizing him, then he nodded and said dryly, “Very well. I
would recommend to not punch walls going forward, as they more often than not tend to be
more indestructible then your bones. In a fight between a wall and your fist, the wall will
win.” He raised one eyebrow at Harry. “That is all for now Mr Potter” he said in a clear
dismissal.

Harry barely registered leaving and he found himself out in the hallway, his mind racing. Had
that been a joke? A joke from Snape?
 Harry walked back to the common room in a haze of confusion; the entire morning had
honestly felt like a very vivid and very strange dream. He settled into an armchair and stared
at the bowl of yoghurt, mixed with nuts and berries that had appeared before him. He realized
he’d been focused on the bowl for several minutes when a cough shifted his attention to the
Head Girl standing before him. How long had she been standing there?

“The house-elves didn’t prepare that for you to stare at. Eat!” Fraser’s voice was quiet but
demanding. When Harry picked up the bowl and brought the first spoonful to his mouth she
smiled, gave his shoulder a pat, and settled on a nearby settee with a book.

After the events of the morning, Harry was a little bit afraid to find out what the rest of the
day would bring. Then he remembered that he still had to wash the ink off of his body.
Looking down at his snack, he decided to do it after he ate.

Perhaps a relaxing shower would help calm his mind enough to deal with the rest of the day.

Chapter End Notes

AN: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

First published: 24th February 2019

 That’s what friends are for
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.

AN: Ah finally, the next chapter. Sorry that it took so long, but RL demanded a lot of
attention. Thank you all for reading, subscribing, bookmarking and commenting. And
for all the kudos! You are the motivation to keep on writing.

This chapter is beta’ed by the wonderful Vichan and Cameron Lindsey. Thanks to you
two, you are the best!

Have fun reading.

On with the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry earned a frown from the Head Girl as he set aside the bowl of fruit before he was even
halfway through it. He got up and headed to the dorms, and he could feel her eyes on his
back all the way out of the common room. He let out a slow breath as he closed the door
behind him. He rested the back of his head against it, tension draining out of him. He hated
the scrutiny; he felt as if his skin was itching from the feeling of being watched so closely.

Not for the first time that morning he wished he was back in Gryffindor tower. He had never
experienced such close observation there that Slytherin subjected him to. He may have
needed to adjust to be what was expected of him as a Gryffindor, but that had also been the
kind of person he wanted to be. He had carved a place for himself and it had been taken
away.

The anger returned and squeezed his insides.

Harry took a few deep breaths and closed his eyes. “Get a grip, Potter,” he muttered. “You
can’t change what happened. Get over it.” He pushed himself away from the wood at his
back and headed for the bathroom.

After taking a wonderfully hot shower and washing the ink down the drain, Harry decided to
see if Hermione was still waiting for him in the Library. He knew Hermione well enough to
be fairly sure that she would still be there, even if it was Saturday and classes hadn’t even
begun. He certainly couldn’t walk up to Gryffindor tower, judging by some of the hostile
stares he had received the day before at the feast. He hadn’t dared to really look at the lion’s
table during breakfast.
He ignored the glances being shot his way as he walked through the common room and made
his way through the castle. He really hoped the novelty of him being in Slytherin would wear
off sooner rather than later.

After he left the dungeons and reached the ground level of the castle, he understood why
Snape had advised them to never walk alone. The open stares were expected and the muttered
insults were annoying, but some students were bumping into him without apologizing, while
others made it obvious that they tried to avoid him like he was contagious by turning around
or walking away at the sight of him and he could practically feel the animosity in the air. He
really hoped the open hostility was only because he was… well, him, and that other
Slytherins - especially the younger years - hadn’t had to handle it, too. He never really had
paid attention to how all of Slytherin had been treated.

He frowned and decided he needed to at least be aware of it. Regardless of what he thought
of them when he had been a first year, they were only eleven years old - still children - and
they didn’t deserve to be mistreated and hated simply because of where they happened to be
sorted.

He ignored the muttered insults and hissing – he chuckled humourlessly at how much it
resembled Parseltongue – and made his way through the castle to the library. When he
stepped through the doors into Madam Pince’s domain, blissful silence greeted him. The
suspicious glance from the librarian was unlike the stares he’d received in the halls; after all,
Madam Pince gave the same look to every student when they stepped into her domain,
regardless of their house. He ignored her and walked through the rows of bookshelves.

At their favourite table buried deep in the library, he found her, and for a moment Harry just
stood and observed his best – and perhaps now his only – friend.

Hermione’s head was bent over a thick and very old looking book, frustrated huffs escaping
her every now and then. Slender fingers alternated between carefully turning the old
parchment pages and pushing wayward locks of her bushy hair behind her ears, all the while
her eyes never leaving the pages.

He smiled; the picture was so… Hermione.

He finally took a step towards the table and she looked up. The look of frustration and
irritation dissipated as it registered with her exactly who was disturbing her, and a wide smile
appeared on her face.

“Harry!” She gestured for him to take the seat across from her. “I found this very interesting
book about the four houses of Hogwarts. They mention more than one resorting; it seemed it
was actually not all that uncommon in the past.” She pushed the book forward so he could
see the text. “Here is the story of Llewelyn Wendelin, who was resorted more than once! She
started out in Gryffindor…”

Hermione rambled on about what she had found in the book and Harry nodded and hummed
where it was appropriate but didn’t listen that closely. It was interesting to know that it hadn’t
been uncommon at one time, but that didn’t change his situation and he knew that there was
no possibility for him to be sorted again. The hat had been quite adamant. Even if he would
need to be sorted for a third time the hat would almost certainly send him straight back to
Slytherin.

“Harry, are you even listening to me?” Hermione’s voice sounded slightly irritated.

Harry smiled at her. “Sorry. I think it is really interesting that it wasn’t unusual in the past,
but that doesn’t really help me now.” He sighed. “I’m in Slytherin now and I don’t think
that’s going to change. Gryffindor thinks I’m just a slimy snake and traitor now, I’m sure, and
Ron...” He shrugged and found he wasn’t able to meet Hermione’s gaze.

Hermione huffed. “Ron is a hot-tempered idiot. But he will come around; he just needs time
to understand. And for the rest of our – hem – well, my house… I don’t have the feeling that
everyone thinks you are a slimy snake.” She sniffed in distaste. “But some were certainly
rather… vocal about it in the common room yesterday evening.”

She took his hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.

“You need to be careful Harry,” she continued. “McLaggen has convinced some of them that
the years of you being in Gryffindor was a plot to gather inside information, and that your
resorting wasn’t the result of unforeseen circumstances.”

“What?!” Harry looked at her with wide eyes, and she nodded, crossing her arms in front of
her in frustration.

“They are all behaving like a drooling, blithering idiots.” She sounded so much like
McGonagall that Harry had to stifle a laugh and Hermione slapped him on the arm.

“Oh, come on. You know what I mean,” she said. “It was the same thing in second year when
everyone thought you were the Heir of Slytherin, then it was fourth year with all the
Champion stuff, and now this! They just can’t think for themselves and have no common
sense. Sycophants, the lot of them.” The frustration in her voice was more than clear.

“Have you spoken with Ron?” Harry asked tentatively, but when Hermione shook her head
he sighed.

“I haven’t spoken to him at all today,” she said. “I didn’t even see him at breakfast.”

Harry leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. The potential of losing his first friend over
his changed house made him bitter.

“I’ll see if I can find him at lunch and talk with him. He will come around.” Hermione tried
to cheer him up, but Harry didn’t even open his eyes to acknowledge it. They both knew Ron
all too well.

“But what if he doesn’t? I am in Slytherin now and nothing will change that. You know how
he feels about Slytherin. And what if he believes what McLaggen is saying?!”

Hermione squeezed his clenched fist.

“Harry, Ron may be in an idiot, but he knows you…”

“Does he?” Harry interrupted her in frustration. “He didn’t believe me last year that I didn’t
want to participate in the bloody tournament. Why should it be any different now?”

“Because he didn’t really believe last year that you were lying, but his temper and jealousy
got the better of him,” she said in a placating voice. “It didn’t even take him a week to come
to his senses, but then he was too stubborn and prideful to apologize. Being in Slytherin
doesn’t change who you are, and he already knows that.”

“But what if it does?” His voice sounded small.

“What?” Hermione blinked in confusion, which was not a look he was used to seeing on her
face.

Harry gulped, stared down at the table and took a breath. “What if being in Slytherin changes
who I am?” He didn’t want to meet her eyes, afraid of what he might see in them.

Hermione’s hands gently pulled his clenched fists apart and took hold of them.

“Why would you say something like that, Harry?” she asked, her voice gentle.

“You…” He sighed, steeled himself, and tried again. “You know a little how life with the
Dursleys has been and I never had thought of myself as particularly brave. I always kept out
of the way and always ran when Dudley was in the mood to bully someone.” He took a deep
breath again and all the fears and insecurities began to spill out. “I loved being a Gryffindor -
still do love it. I liked how the people saw me because of my house, and I began to think that
I am more than what… what I’d always been. Being in Gryffindor changed me from the boy
I was growing up with the Dursleys and I like who I have become because of it. But what if I
was never meant to be in Gryffindor? What if the person you got to know in the last few
years wasn’t the real me and I was delusional of myself or – “

“Stop, Harry.” Her voice was still just as gentle, but it made him stop, nonetheless. “Harry, do
you think I am brave?”

The question startled him enough to look up. The expression in her eyes was kind and warm,
and he nodded. Yes, Hermione was brave, he had no doubt about that; what other eleven-
year-old would set a teacher on fire in order to rescue her friend?

“Do you think I am only brave?”

He shook his head. How could she even ask? She was so much more.

“What would you say I am beside brave? Intelligent? Studious? Hard-working?

Perfectionistic? Determined?”

Harry nodded.

“Sometimes tactless? An insufferable know-it-all?” Hermione grinned at that and Harry, still
nodding, escaped a small laugh.

“And are those Gryffindor traits?”

Slowly, he shook his head again; they weren’t, if he thought about it.

“They aren’t, and I wouldn’t really consider myself brave or courageous. And the sorting hat
had wanted to put me into Ravenclaw, because I already have all the character traits for that
house.” Harry wasn’t particularly surprised at that, and Hermione continued. “But it also
considered Slytherin, because I was driven by the ambition to belong and succeed in this new
magical world at such a young age. Despite all that, the hat didn’t entirely rule out Hufflepuff
and Gryffindor for me.”

Harry looked at her, wide-eyed, and Hermione smirked at him.

“Yes, it considered all four houses for me.” Her voice sounded strangely proud of the fact.
“Hufflepuff, because, even if I didn’t had friends at that point, I already knew I would be
loyal to them, that I would cherish them, and because I was not above hard work. And
Gryffindor, because I wanted to be brave and courageous. I wanted to leave the shy and
socially awkward girl I’d been in my previous school behind and actually make friends. For
that, I needed to be brave enough to talk to people and open up even if it meant facing
rejection like I had experienced before.” Her expression was intense.

“The hat decided on what I wanted to be instead of what I already was. Belonging to a house
isn’t just so you can be among like-minded people and make it more comfortable; it is also so
you can reach your potential, the parts of that you want to reach and even the parts you didn’t
know you had.” She smiled at him and continued.

“And I would guess that was also in your case. The small boy in our first year wasn’t the bold
and courageous Gryffindor I got to know over the years. You decided that you wanted to be a
Gryffindor and the hat would have never put you in that house if you wouldn’t have the
potential to be one. And you are, Harry.” Her voice was insistent. “You are brave and daring
and perhaps the most courageous person I know. Not many people could have lived through
what you have and come out the kind and wonderful person that you are.”

She squeezed his hand again and Harry tried to keep control of all the fear and hope and… he
didn’t know what else, it was too much. He blinked, his eyes burned in a way that he knew if
he would let go even a little bit, he would cry.

“But that is not all you are. You are also determined and cunning, resourceful and you have
great leadership skills. All those are Slytherin traits and the reason the sorting hat would put
you there. But I think that your ambition was the point which decided it this time. After what
had happened at the end of the last school year…” She paused. “It is no wonder the
experience changed you, or at least changed your priorities. I think I’m right when I say that
you want to fight You-Know-Who? That you will not stand by idly, that you are determined
to stop him?”

Harry simply nodded; his throat too blocked with emotions to speak. Never had he imagined
that Hermione could read him so easily. If it hadn’t been one of his best friends, he would
have been terrified.

“That’s a kind of ambition. It doesn’t matter that you don’t want to have money or power or
fame. You want You-Know-Who to be defeated and you want to help with that. It doesn’t
matter that you want it in part out of revenge –“ Harry shook his head vehemently, but his
friend only laughed quietly. “Oh Harry, nobody would begrudge you some slightly vengeful
thoughts, and after everything you are entitled to them.

“What I want to say, Harry, is that we are far more than a handful of personality traits and,
and we shouldn’t be reduced to a schoolhouse defining us. Different circumstances will bring
out different traits. Being in the house known for determination, cunning, and ambition will
not change you since you’ve always had those traits,” she said with a small smile. “And you
will always also be brave and daring and reckless, but also loyal and kind and so much more.
You will always be Harry, the very first friend I ever made.”

Harry still couldn’t speak but he hugged Hermione as hard as he could, conveying everything
he wanted to say in that hug. Judging by the way Hermione hugged back he could tell she
knew and understood. They stayed like this for a while and when he settled back into his
chair, he could finally clear his throat.

“When did you get that intelligent and insightful?” He teased with a grin, feeling lighter than
he had in weeks - since he had found out about the sorting, really. Hermione laughed and
punched him slightly on the arm.

“Thank you, Hermione.” He squeezed her arm shortly.

“Anytime, Harry. that’s what friends are for. Now, tell me what that meeting with Professor
Snape was about,” she demanded.

And Harry did, but he left out that he had never gone to the yearly health checks before, as
well as the concerns they had over his health and eating habits.

Hermione started grilling him for details about the differences between Gryffindor and
Slytherin after he had told her what his morning had been like. She also voiced concerns
about how the Slytherins had been treating him and Harry had to tell her several times that so
far, he hadn’t been bullied, mistreated, or even ignored. He didn’t voice his concerns that he
didn’t think it would stay that way.

“It is really interesting how different Professor Snape his handling his duties as the Head of
House compared to Professor McGonagall. Don’t you think so? Do you think it has
something to do with the age difference? Professor Snape is about our parents’ age, while
Professor McGonagall was already the Head of House when your parents, Professor Lupin,
and Sirius were here as students.” Hermione mused, not in the least put out by Harry’s
silence. “I won’t say that one way is better than the other, but Professor Snape seems
definitely more invested in the lives of his students. And I am actually intrigued by these
tutoring classes; it’s so hard to get one of the upper years to help.”
Harry frowned at her. “What would you need one of the upper years for? You don’t need any
help in your schoolwork.”

“Oh, Harry, do you think I really love spending that much time researching?”

“Actually… yes.” He looked at her in confusion.

Hermione sighed. “Yes, I do love the library, but sometimes I would like to read books for
enjoyment rather than just schoolwork. And some classes are hard even for me, and it would
be so much easier to ask an upper year to explain the things I didn’t understand instead of
searching through book after book.”

A person appeared beside their table before Harry could respond. He looked up and wasn’t
entirely surprised to see Zabini. When Harry craned his neck to look around him, he could
see Malfoy, Parkinson, and some of the others standing near the library entrance.

“Potter, we thought it would be nice to go to lunch all together. What do you think?” Zabini
smiled at him.

Harry frowned. He hadn’t seen them in the library earlier, so why would they come get him
for lunch? He again glanced towards the people standing at the door and caught Malfoy's
eyes. He stared at him in a way that Harry wasn’t quite sure how to interpret, but when he
leaned to the side and whispered something to Parkinson, he remembered – Malfoy and
Parkinson were the 5th year Slytherin prefects, and Snape had told him that the prefects
would be informed of his diet plan and the potions he had to take at breakfast.

By the looks both were directing his way, that had already happened. And it was lunchtime,
which Harry had completely forgotten about, but here they were, getting him for lunch…

Great. He had Slytherin babysitters.

Zabini was still smiling at him and Harry stood up with a groan. It didn’t look like he could
escape them and at least nobody was being antagonistic; if he went along with it, perhaps it
would remain peaceful.

He looked at Hermione, who had a puzzled yet intrigued expression on her face. He
suppressed another groan. Wonderful. His brilliant best friend had obviously realized that
something was going on that she wasn’t privy to, and it wouldn’t be like her to stop before
figuring out what it was.

“Are you coming?” Harry gestured to the door. “We can at least walk to the hall together. Or
would it be better if they didn’t see you interacting with me?” He tried to ask the last question
quietly enough so that only Hermione could hear it but judging from Zabini’s frown he hadn’t
been quiet enough.

Hermione’s expression changed instantly, and her voice sounded clipped when she spoke. “If
someone has a problem with me walking with my best friend, then they will have the
unfortunate experience to learn what spells and curses I picked up while helping you prepare
for the tournament last year.” She set her chin in a stubborn line and stood up. She nodded to
Zabini, who couldn’t hide a grin at her words and together they walked to the entrance.

“Let’s go to lunch.” Zabini opened the door and Harry and Hermione nodded to the others
who followed them out of the library. The entire trip to the Great Hall felt a bit awkward as
Harry could sense the assessing gazes of Malfoy and Parkinson on his back. At least it didn’t
seem like they had told the rest of his yearmates he thought gratefully as he said goodbye to
Hermione. He wasn’t getting any strange looks – or stranger looks than before, anyway - as
he sat down at the Slytherin table.

Lunch was surprisingly quiet and even nice, in an odd kind of way, and nobody commented
on the fact that Harry’s plate had filled automatically. The Slytherins talked about their
upcoming classes and about their holidays. They tried to include Harry in their conversation,
asking him about his summer, which he answered, albeit vaguely.

At one point they talked about the new Professors – or one Professor, at least, as Grubbly-
Plank wasn’t actually new.

“I heard Dumbledore couldn’t find someone to fill the Defence position in time, so the
Ministry jumped in and appointed her,” Greengrass remarked, all of them briefly looking to
the teacher’s table and at the Professor clad from head to toe in pink again.

Davis shuddered. “It shouldn’t be allowed to wear such horrid… clothes where sensitive
children’s eyes could see them,” she said. “I am sure that after this year everyone here will
have some kind of trauma linked to the colour pink.”

Bulstrode snorted at that and Harry couldn’t suppress the small grin that escaped him. “Yeah,
she was actually really horrible at my hearing.”

Instantly everyone looked at him.

“You know her?” Davis asked curiously.

Harry nodded. “A little. She was at my hearing and was rather… vocal about me being
guilty,” he said “Wasn’t really happy that I got away. I don’t think she likes me, but by the
way she looked at Fudge, she definitely likes the Minister.” He shrugged, while everyone
around him shuddered.

“My father told me about her,” Malfoy added. “She is the Undersecretary to the Minister, but
it seems she is rather useless, and Fudge was quite happy to get rid of her.”

“Oh, wow, it’s nice to know that the Ministry takes our education that serious.” Davis
deadpanned and snickers filled their part of the table.

“But seriously, Fudge wanted to have an insider at Hogwarts,” Malfoy continued. “He
doesn’t trust Dumbledore anymore. Seems to think he’s power-hungry or something and
wants to corrupt the minds of children.”
“And they think sending… that would help him?” Bulstrode grumbled, gesturing to
Umbridge. “Did you open the Defence book for this year? It seems to me the classes will be
completely theoretical. Theory only, in our O.W.L. year!” she huffed. “The seventh years are
also not happy about the curriculum. If they hinder our education, it will only anger the
students, and with them their parents and families, and that will certainly not be positive for
the Minister.”

Harry looked at the tall and bulky girl in astonishment. He never had heard her speak so
many words, not even in classes when she was called on by a professor.

Zabini elbowed him. “Don’t look so surprised. Milli doesn’t look like it and doesn’t like to
display it,but she has a mind sharp as a knife,” he whispered with a laugh in his voice. “But
she is too obsessed with runes to use it for anything else, she tends to forget all the other
classes beside it and everything else, too.”

Harry quickly glanced at Zabini and then at Bulstrode, who flashed a small but very amused
grin at him.

“Nothing more interesting than runes,” she said “You can practically do anything with them
without lifting your wand even once. Sadly, most of the knowledge was lost in the medieval
times.” She sighed, trailed off, and got a far-away look in her eyes.

“And Millicent is out of the conversation for a while,” Greengrass drawled. She shook her
head and removed the plate from Millicent’s place, where she had started drawing runes in
the rest of her mashed potatoes with her fork absentmindedly.

The conversation turned to the other classes and what they could expect in their O.W.L. year.
Harry listened, but his gaze wandered to Bulstrode more than once. Her statement about
runes intrigued him and his own rather new interest in them had made him wonder what else
was possible. Perhaps he could ask her once they were back in the common room? She might
even be able to recommend him a book or two.

His hand stopped halfway in bringing his goblet to his lips, when he realized that he had
already become more comfortable with the people around him, and he hadn’t even been in
Slytherin for a full day yet. He didn’t know if it was deliberate, but they had included him
and behaved rather like normal teenagers. It was a far cry from what the Gryffindors thought
they would act like – like evil wizards, planning to take over the world, or at least the school.
Instead, gossip, talk of classes and holidays surrounded him.

Was it all just their plan? Did they only behave like that to make him relax and bring his
guard down?

He instantly felt bad about that thought. Whatever their parents were, they were only
teenager, like he was. And yes, some of them had behaved rather unpleasantly in the past, but
even the unpleasant ones were trying with Harry. When he looked around and studied their
faces, he couldn’t bring up the old suspicion anymore. He didn’t think it was a plot; they
were simply teenagers behaving like teenagers.
Teenagers with more manners and decorum than the rather loud and sometimes uncontrolled
lions, but teenagers, nonetheless.

He sighed and reminded himself that if he didn’t want to be prejudiced against based on his
blood, family, or former house, he should definitely try to reign in his prejudice and
suspicion.

“Potter? Hey, are you still with us?” Zabini’s elbow brought him back to the conversation at
the table.

Harry blinked and looked up to see everyone gazing at him curiously. He gave them a
sheepish smile. “Yeah, sorry. Got a little side-tracked. What is it?”

Zabini studied him for a moment, then continued. “We decided to spend the afternoon
outside. The sun is shining, and it could be our last Saturday where we can completely relax.
Are you coming with us?”

Harry thought shortly about it, then nodded. “But I have to go to the dorm for a moment.
With everything that was going on, I didn’t have to the time to look over my summer
assignments again and I really don’t want to give Sn… Professor Snape another reason to be
angry with me. Being resorted into Slytherin did that already.” Nobody commented on his
near slip of tongue.

Davis gave him a sharp look. “I don’t think that he is really angry with you about being
resorted - not that you could have done anything to prevent it. But it really would be better if
your summer homework is up to his standard,” she said.

“He tends to be stricter with us when it comes down to it. If you want, I can give it a quick
look over and point out where you need to change things. Perhaps if you ask nicely, I even
tell you what exactly to add, delete, or change.” She grinned and Zabini at his side whistled.

“That’s an offer you really should take, Potter,” he said “Tracey is normally not the one to
voluntarily help with homework. And she is the perfect choice to ask for help, especially in
potions.”

Harry blinked at them, confused. “If it’s potions, wouldn’t Malfoy be the perfect choice?”

Malfoy looked a little startled by Harry’s comment, but shook his head. “I am only good in
potions because I was tutored in it since I was child, and because I study for it to be up to
Professor Snape’s standard. I could explain everything that’s in the schoolbooks, but
Tracey… she is on a completely different level, and not only in Potions.” Malfoy smiled at
his friend briefly and Harry was astonished how it transformed his normally pointy and
haughty face.

“You have Granger, but we have our own genius and she doesn’t even have to study for it,”
he continued “Knowledge comes easy to her and whenever she decides to engage in
something, she is brilliant in it. She could sit her O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s now if she wanted,
but…” He trailed off.
 “I am too lazy.” Davis smiled, took a sip from her pumpkin juice and leaned against
Bulstrode at her side. “Yes, apparently my mind is working on a genius level and I’ve never
studied a day in my life. I read a book or hear something and it’s all in here, drawing
connections to other things, ripping it apart to understand the fundamentals.” She gestured to
her head.

“But it makes classes and schoolwork rather mind-numbing. I tend to get distracted and
bored. I’d rather experiment with spells, charms, and potions than do what the teachers want
from me. Drives them crazy.” She grinned again.

“Quite similar to your talent on a broom, I think, Potter.”

Harry couldn’t completely wrap his mind around the different things he had learned in the
last hour about people he thought he knew for the last four years, but he grinned back. If he
was proud of anything, it was his flying abilities.

“Sounds right.”

“Then are you going for the try-outs?” Zabini enquired.

Harry shook his head. “No, it’s already enough needing to get used to being in another house,
on top of O.W.L.s this year,” he said “Besides, you already have a good seeker.” He gestured
to Malfoy who looked at him with a rather strange expression.

“But let’s be blunt - you are better,” Greengrass stated “You are a natural on the broom and
Draco couldn’t defeat you even once.”

To Harry’s surprise, Malfoy nodded with a pained expression.

“But if I am out of the game, there isn’t anyone else that could beat Malfoy,” he said “So... if
I’m not playing, he’ll be the best seeker of the school, and that should be enough for
Slytherin to win. I really do have enough other things to do, even without Quidditch,” Harry
elaborated. He caught the small satisfied grin on Malfoy’s face, but he wasn’t sure if it was
because of Slytherin’s chances on winning this year, or due to the hint of a compliment.

“And you don’t want to antagonize your old house by playing against them,” Bulstrode
remarked dryly.

“That, too,” Harry acknowledged, without looking at anyone.

They were silent for a while, then Zabini stood, breaking up the slight awkwardness. “Let’s
get outside and enjoy our last lazy Saturday for a year.”

Chapter End Notes

AN:Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think

First published: 27th of May 2019

 Gryffindor trouble
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.

AN: Ah and another chapter for one of my fics finished and edited. Took us a while, RL
was distracting for me and my two wonderful betas Vichan and Cameron Lindsey, too.
Many hugs and kisses to these two!

Thanks to all of you. To everyone who subscribed, bookmarked and commented. And
for all the kudos!

Have fun reading.

On with the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry walked through the hallways of Hogwarts castle after a few rather relaxing hours spent
sitting in the sun by the shore of the lake. It had been a frightening and surreal experience for
him, as it had been so similar to other days he had spent throughout the years before but so
different because of the company he had kept.

Not that his new housemates had been bad company; it was quite the contrary, actually

Davis held true to her promise and read over his Potions essay. Harry had been rather proud
of his essay until then, because for once he had actually found the time to do his homework.
He actually had put some effort into it and had a library to crosscheck information; even
Sirius, who, by his own words, hadn’t been half bad in potions had helped.

But Davis had completely and mercilessly torn it apart. It seemed he hadn’t been entirely
wrong with the actual content, but the structure of his essay and his explanations were, as
Davis phrased it, clumsy and laughable. She then began to scribble rather helpful corrections
and notes all over his parchment.

In the middle of showing him how he should construct his essay and what extra information
he had to put in, she started explaining which part of an ingredient reacted with what part of
another and why they reacted in that way, along with what the innate magic of an ingredient
actually did and what happened while brewing said ingredients. She even began expounding
on how temperature and the way you stirred could influence how the ingredients would react
with one another.

Harry felt dizzy after only a few minutes.

When Davis started using Arithmancy, scribbling a few complicated calculations on a spare
parchment, to explain the reason why some ingredients had to be harvested at a specific time
of the day or year and how it changed the inner composition and the innate magic, it went
way over Harry’s ability to even follow.

Zabini had only laughed at his horrified face and assured him that nobody could follow her
when Davis went on one of her explaining rants. They left her to monologue and scribble
madly. Zabini, with some helpful comments from Malfoy, helped him finish his essay. After
all the help, he only needed to re-write it cleanly on a fresh parchment.

At least he could finally understand why Hermione had always been so horrified with the
way he wrote his essays. He mentally swore to put more effort in his schoolwork during the
year.

Afterwards, they spent the next few hours laying around, playing cards, and trying to get
more information out of Harry. It seemed after what he had told them at breakfast, they didn’t
seem to believe that the rumours they had heard over the years were only rumours.

Harry just lay there on his back, watching the clouds drift by and answered with non-
affirmative sounds. He had to hide a snicker when he saw how much this annoyed the others
around him.

Eventually they woke up Crabbe and Goyle and wandered back to the castle, arguing about
some article in a political magazine Harry had never heard of. In the entrance hall he let
himself fall to the back of the group, and when they stepped through the doorway leading to
the dungeons, he slipped away.

He wanted to see if he could find Hermione again.

Before he followed the others out of the Great Hall after lunch, he had caught the gaze of
Hermione who had indicated with her head to Ron, who was shovelling food into his mouth
beside her and ignoring everyone around him. Harry had nodded and signalled that he would
find her later to talk again.

He hoped Hermione had the chance to talk with Ron, but he knew his ginger friend and how
he stubborn he could be. Now he was walking to the library for the second time that day,
hoping that Hermione would be there and had a chance to talk with Ron. He didn’t allow
himself to hope that Ron would be there, as well.

Lost in thought, he walked through the seemingly empty hallway, his feet automatically
finding his way to the library when he saw a flash of colour out of the corner of his eye. He
ducked as a hex flew over his head. He spun around, wand in hand, and snarled when he saw
his attackers.

Five boys in Gryffindor colours stood a few feet away from him. Cormac McLaggen and two
other sixth years, a seventh year - Harry already knew that if he told Fred and George, they
would make their fellow yearmate’s life a living hell - and Seamus. The Irish boy looked
rather uncomfortable, but he was there nonetheless, wand in hand. It wasn’t raised, but he
still had it out.
Hurt and betrayal turned Harry’s insides. He had shared a room with this boy for four years.
They had shared evenings full of games and laughter in their dorm and teased each other in
the mornings. His friendship with Seamus never had been the same as what he had Ron or
even Neville, but he had counted him as a friend.

He stared at Seamus, who averted his gaze but lifted his chin stubbornly. But then Harry’s
attention was caught by McLaggen, who started to speak.

“Well, well... what do we have here? A slimy snake, all alone. And oh, look, it’s the traitor,”
the blond boy drawled with a nasty smirk, twirling his wand.

For a moment Harry only blinked at him and tried not to laugh. The guy practically sounded
like Malfoy, or at least how Harry remembered Malfoy from the last four years - haughty,
arrogant and self-important.

Harry sighed instead and answered as calmly as he could. “What do you want, McLaggen?”
He shifted his weight onto his right leg and let his wand fall out of his sleeve slightly. He
hated that he felt he needed it to defend himself against these people who had once been his
housemates.

They were Gryffindors, for Merlin’s sake!

Despite that, the look in McLaggen’s eyes promised that he wouldn’t be satisfied with just a
few insults.

The boy took a step towards Harry and sneered. “What I want is to teach you a lesson, Potter.
Nobody - not even the bloody boy-who-lived - gets away with betraying Gryffindor house.”

Harry narrowed his eyes at him. “How is getting sorted into another house a betrayal of
Gryffindor?”

“You are the boy-who-lived. Your parents were both Gryffindors. You shouldn’t be even
considered for another house.” McLaggen’s face went slightly red as his voice rose, losing
the haughty tones. Harry thought he sounded like a whining child.

In fact, he strongly reminded Harry of Dudley when he didn’t get a second bowl of ice cream.

“But we shouldn’t have expected anything else, what with you getting the Lions in trouble all
the time and being a Parselmouth. You were never a true Gryffindor, right from the
beginning!” His voice got even louder.

“You thought we wouldn’t find out that you snuck your way into our house? A snake through
and through, you sneaky lying coward. We were right a few years ago - you are Slytherin’s
heir.” He took another step in Harry’s direction and the three boys behind him followed,
although out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Seamus take a step back instead of forward.
The Irish boy looked troubled.

Harry couldn’t pay any mind to Seamus, though, because McLaggen had stepped into his
personal space.
“I bet you used Dark Arts to confound the hat to put you in Gryffindor back in first year, just
like you cheated to get into the Tournament last year. Did you think anybody believed you
when you said you didn’t do it?” McLaggen snarled. “But now everyone knows what a filthy
liar you are - that you are deranged and dangerous. Did you vanquish You-Know-Who just
because you didn’t want the competition?”

Harry was dumbfounded. He knew McLaggen was immensely stupid, but here he was
exceeding every expectation.

“You do realize that I was a baby,” Harry answered, a hint of exasperation in his voice. “Oh,
yes - a one-year-old saw Voldemort as competition. I can’t believe you saw through my evil
plan.”

McLaggen’s face got even more red from anger and he started to raise his wand, and Harry
suddenly wasn’t sure if sarcasm and mockery had been the right choice.

“You filth! I’ll put you in your place. Nobody makes a mockery out of Gryffindor,”
McLaggen growled. “You are nothing! I will stop you!”

“From doing what?” He was already tired of this bullshit, but he still hoped to get out of the
situation with a few bruises, at most. The longer McLaggen talked, the more likely it was that
someone would come and interrupt them.

He didn’t see the fist coming, but he certainly felt it as it slammed into his cheek. The
momentum threw him against the wall and his left shoulder connected painfully with the hard
stone. However idiotic he thought McLaggen was, he certainly had a mean punch.

Harry steadied himself and snarled at McLaggen, who was standing before him with his
hands clenched into fists.

“Don’t try to hide it! We can see right through you, you evil snake.” The moron sounded so
sure of himself and the boys behind him nodded in agreement. Seamus, who looked horrified
and embarrassed, had drifted away from the group.

“Why else would you have let yourself be sorted into Slytherin, if not to share the secrets you
gathered about all of us in the past few years?”

Harry hadn’t meant to laugh at that, but he couldn’t help it.

“Oh, that’s really good.” He clutched his stomach and laughed even harder. “How in Merlin’s
name, did you manage to come to that conclusion? You really think I could prevent the
sorting hat from doing what it wanted, especially as an eleven-year-old?”

He knew from experience with his uncle that riling up a person who was already furious was
like poking a tiger with a stick, but he couldn’t help it. All the frustration, anger, and
resentment over a situation he had no control over came out in a long and bitter laugh. Harry
was sure he sounded slightly unhinged, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he cared. The wizarding
world already believed that he was.
“And what secrets are you talking about?” He asked with a sneer. “That Ron snores, Dean
sings in the shower, and you tend to pick your nose? Or that Seamus leaves his socks
everywhere? Yeah, sure - the Slytherins would be delighted to learn about those secrets.” He
rolled his eyes at the blond boy and found himself fascinated at the fact that someone aside
from Vernon could take on that particular shade of red.

“I bet you are in league with You-Know-Who. Slytherins are evil. Are you happy with your
little Death Eater friends?” McLaggen’s voice had risen to a bellow and he took another step
towards Harry.

This time he saw the punch coming and stepped to the side. The force of McLaggen’s empty
swing threw him forward and Harry used the momentum to sweep the other boy’s leg away
from under him. McLaggen crashed onto the floor with a loud thunk. Several voices cried out
and the other three boys leapt at Harry, who found himself needing to defend against all three
of them at once. He couldn’t avoid their punches completely and one caught him hard in his
right side.

Having spent so much of his life running from Dudley and his friend, Harry knew that he had
no chance against three bigger opponents. He only had two options: curl into a ball to protect
his head, or run. He didn’t like either option.

Anger – hot, sharp anger – filled him, and he felt a familiar pressure rising inside his body.

It wasn’t the first time his magic had reacted strongly to his emotions, and Harry found that
he was furious.

He always loved coming back to Hogwarts. Despite all of his adventures he felt safe at the
school, and it was more of a home than anything he could truly remember. It was his refuge
from the Dursleys. It was where he wasn’t the freak and the punching bag.

But with three oversized idiots pummelling him, it felt exactly the same as Privet Drive.

Something rammed into his left knee and sent him to the floor, and his head connected with
the stone.

Harry tasted blood in his mouth and the back of his head throbbed.

His fury skyrocketed.

Snarling, he managed to get to his feet just as a vicious kick from McLaggen connected with
his stomach.

He could feel his magic thrum and vibrate under his skin, fuelled by his rage and the
adrenaline coursing through his veins. His magic had never reacted with that much force to
his emotions - not even when he blew up his Aunt Marge.

He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but he was terrified of seriously hurting
someone. Even so, he found he couldn’t stop.

He just wanted them to leave him the bloody hell alone.

He thrust his arms out, one hand open and the other still holding his wand, and his magic
swirled around him with such force that his ears popped. He could practically taste his magic
in the air as it sizzled around them before it rushed forward like a lightning bolt.

Silence fell. The only sound he heard was his own heavy breathing.

He felt dizzy and his vision was blurred, while various parts of his body throbbed with pain.
His arms shook from exhaustion as they slowly dropped back down to his sides. He blinked a
few times to try and regain focus, and the shapes of the four boys slowly came into view. He
wasn’t quite sure what he was seeing at first.

McLaggen and his lackeys were standing before him, and each one of them seemed to be
frozen in mid-motion. McLaggen was in the middle of throwing another punch, his
expression vicious.

Harry blinked again, but the scene before him remained the same.

His four tormentors still stood completely frozen in the hallway. Seamus, who still stood to
the side, looked as dumbfounded as Harry felt.

Harry knew magic could do that. There were several jinxes and curses that could incapacitate
or freeze people. But he hadn’t said the incantation of any of those curses, or used the correct
wand movement or even his wand. Yes, he had his wand in hand, but he felt his magic
leaving through his hands in an uncontrolled tide; it was completely different from any spell
he had learned at school.

Had he really done that? Accidental magic at fifteen?

Apparently.

Could it even be called accidental? He had wanted them to stop and he made them stop.

Harry, confused, stared at the frozen bodies, hoping a professor could undo what he had done.
But in order to find that out he would have to find a professor. Now that he thought about it,
it seemed unusual that they hadn’t been interrupted by one already.

Still staring at the frozen students before him, he realised with a slight detachment that he
didn’t even see them breathe; instead he registered the rising panic in their eyes.

His stomach churned. Perhaps he could fix it himself?

He lifted his wand.

“Finite Incantatem.” His voice sounded hoarse and his magic felt sluggish, but it flowed
through him and out of his wand obediently. For a moment he thought nothing would happen
- that his magic was too depleted - but then McLaggen took in a shaky breath and stumbled
forward, nearly landing face-first on the ground.

Harry wasn’t sure what he should do so he simply just stood there, his wand still raised.
Should he say anything or just leave? Then the Gryffindors turned toward him, and
McLaggen’s face twisted into an ugly snarl and he raised his own wand. “You… evil slimy
snake! How dare you! Wait till my…”

Harry wasn’t sure what the boy wanted to say, but he was so reminiscent of Malfoy that
Harry nearly laughed again.

Before either one of them could do anything, a familiar voice behind him called out.

“Flipendo.”

The four boys before him were blown back and crumbled to the floor a few feet away.

Harry turned around and came face to face with a rather furious looking Hermione.

“How dare they…” She huffed, her wand still pointing at the older Gryffindors. “Spineless,
disgusting little cockroaches.”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked at the fallen boys with disdain. “If this is what Gryffindor
- the house of the brave and chivalrous - stands for, I am seriously considering asking the hat
to resort me, if it would be possible,” she said, exasperated. “You can bet that Professor
McGonagall will hear about what transpired here. Four against one!” Her disdain and anger
seemed almost palpable in every one of her movements and expressions.

“Shame on you. I am embarrassed of being a lion right now. And you…” Hermione whirled
around and pointed her wand straight at Seamus, who looked like a deer caught in the
headlights.

Harry took a step towards her and placed his hand over her fist that grasped her wand.

“It’s fine, Hermione. Seamus didn’t do anything.” He tried to keep his voice soothing.
Nobody wanted to experience a furious Hermione. He gulped when her attention shifted to
him.

“No, it is not fine. He just stood there! He didn’t help…” Her voice trembled.

“No, it really is fine, Hermione. I am fine. You helped me,” he said “The situation is under
control and after you inform Professor McGonagall these four will get what they deserve.”

She gazed at him for several moments, then nodded and lowered her wand. Harry took
several deep breaths before he relaxed.

A noise from behind made Harry turn around. All four boys groaned and tried to push up
from the floor.

Harry ignored the hiss from Hermione at his side and slowly walked up to McLaggen, who
had pushed himself into a sitting position, leaning against the wall. The blond was looking up
at him with dazed eyes. When he realised who was standing over him, confusion and
apprehension overtook his expression.
Harry slowly slid his wand back into his sleeves, McLaggen following the movement with
his eyes.

“First you accuse me of using Dark Arts powerful enough to confuse two very old and very
powerful magical artefacts,” he said, “and then you try to beat me into submission by Muggle
means. That is a whole new level of idiocy.” His voice was so quiet that only McLaggen
could hear him.

“If I am really as powerful and evil as you think, what would stop me from hurting you?
What would stop me from hurting the people dear to you?”

Sweat began to gather on the blond Gryffindor’s forehead and Harry stifled the slightly guilty
feeling rising in him as fear crept into McLaggen’s expression.

“That is what Voldemort would do.” He sneered slightly at the shudder McLaggen couldn’t
hide at the name. “He will go after the people you love, hurt them, kill them, and then he’ll
kill you in the most painful way possible,” he said. “Never - ever - compare me to him again.
He killed my parents and is solely responsible for ruining my life in every regard. Never
suggest that I am in league with him again,” he hissed, his speech a dangerous staccato as he
emphasized each word. The colour drained from McLaggen’s face.

Harry’s knee painfully protested as he turned away from the idiot and surveyed the situation.
Hermione still stood a few feet away, while Seamus leaned against the wall with a guilty
expression and tried not to look at Harry. Down the hallway he saw several more people;
apparently, they had a small audience.

Harry didn’t know how long the students had been there, and he didn’t want to think about it.
If they had watched for more than a few minutes, it would only mean that nobody had
stepped up for him - that nobody had bothered to help him.

He swallowed and avoided all eye contact but held his head high as he slowly made his way
through the handful of people standing in the hallway. He heard footsteps behind him and
knew that Hermione was following him.

Movement caught his eye before he reached the corner. Ron stood there, gawping, his eyes
wide. Harry caught his gaze and saw guilt and embarrassment there, but also uncertainty and
hesitation.

Harry turned around and continued down the hallway.

“He didn’t just stand by and watch,” Hermione said quietly.

Harry didn’t answer, simply shrugged and held the handkerchief filled with ice that his friend
had handed him up to his cheek. His whole body throbbed. He wasn’t quite sure what hurt
more, his knee, his head, or his side.

They sat in one of the many alcoves littering Hogwarts castle, where Hermione had drawn
her wand and healed his split lip before conjuring ice for him.

“He found me in the library and wanted to talk,” she said. “We heard the commotion and then
someone came into the library and whispered to his friends that some Gryffindors were
showing the new snake his place. I pushed through the crowd, Ron behind me, and the rest
you know.”

“And did you?”

“What?” She looked at him in question.

“Did you manage to talk to Ron?” Harry clarified.

“A bit. He is confused,” she said, sighing. “He knows that, theoretically, being a Slytherin
doesn’t change who you are, but it could also mean that he didn’t know you as well as he
thought he did, and I think that frightens him. We didn’t have the time to talk for very long. I
don’t know what he thinks of the attack on you.”

Harry pulled his leg up and rested his chin on his knees. “That sounds far better than what I
imagined. He didn’t immediately start ranting about how Slytherins are evil?”

Hermione vehemently shook her head, her brown curls bouncing. “No. I got the impression
he is still slightly shocked and terribly confused. He simply needs time to process. He just
doesn’t know what to think.”

Harry left that without comment and simply sighed.

Hermione patted him on his knee and stood up. “I will go and inform Professor McGonagall
before the idiots try to lie their way out of what they did. I would tell you to go to Madam
Pomfrey, but I’m fairly sure you would ignore my advice. Tomorrow after breakfast?”

Harry only nodded and added. “In the library.”

She disappeared down the corridor and Harry let his forehead fall down on his knees. He
could only hope that his evening would be quieter. He had no illusions that McLaggen stood
alone in his opinion and that this would be the last time he would have to defend himself
against those who thought he needed to be taught a lesson.

He felt so tired - emotionally and physically.

He stayed in the alcove for a while before he made his way down to the dungeons. Nobody
looked at him as he stepped into the common room and made his way to the back to sit in one
of the comfortable armchairs by the windows. Even so, he had the feeling that despite the
lack of eyes on him that a lot of attention was focused on him – again.

‘Bloody snakes, won’t even stare openly.’ He had to chuckle at the thought, as it was
certainly true, but somehow, he found it more amusing than annoying.

Everything he had discovered about his Slytherin schoolmates proved that he really didn’t
know them and that he only had a limited and very prejudiced impression of them. He had
always thought Malfoy was the typical Slytherin and the leader of their year, at the least.
However, the more he observed, the more he realised that Malfoy was far too loud and brash
for a Slytherin. Zabini had pointed out that if Harry was a Gryffindor-Slytherin, Malfoy was a
Slytherin-Gryffindor, which had made the blond in question splutter and complain loudly.

A movement to his side startled him. Zabini stood before him, with Bulstrode behind him.

“Mind if we sit here?” He gestured to the empty armchairs around the table.

Harry shook his head and the two settled down. Bulstrode immediately brought out a book
about runes, while Zabini watched him with mild interest.

“You should eat this; they don’t send it without a reason.” The dark-skinned boy nodded
towards the table and Harry realised that a plate with vegetable sticks and different dips in
small bowls had appeared at some point.

He sighed, not really in the mood for food, and definitely not hungry. But considering Zabini
wasn’t even surprised that food was provided for Harry outside of the normal mealtimes,
Harry had no illusions that the boy drew the correct conclusions. He just knew, that if he
wouldn’t at least try to eat, somehow the prefects and then the Head Girl would hear about it
and ultimately, so would Snape and Madam Pomfrey. That was something Harry definitely
wanted to avoid.

So, he picked up a carrot stick, dipped it into something what looked like yoghurt and nibbled
on it while he stared out the window into the waters of the lake. They sat there in silence for a
while, then Zabini’s quiet voice brought him out of his musing.

“Need another ice pack for the cheek?”

Harry looked at him with wide eyes, but Zabini only returned the gaze calmly and shrugged.

“I heard what happened - not in any great detail - but enough to get the gist of it,” Zabini
said. “McLaggen has always been an idiot. Professor McGonagall took away two hundred
house points, which puts Gryffindor into the negatives since the year hasn’t even officially
started yet. She also assigned them detention until Halloween.”

Harry let out a tired breath. He was too exhausted to even consider how he should feel about
them all knowing what had happened. It seemed his anger had rushed out of him with his
magic, and now he only felt drained. “Yeah, well - it wasn’t anything I hadn’t thought would
happen at some point.”
 “Now you understand the reason why Professor Snape doesn’t want us to walk around
alone,” Zabini said “And you really should go to Madam Pomfrey, or at least to Professor
Snape. I’m sure they’ve also heard what happened. If you don’t appear on your own,
Professor Snape will not be happy if he has to force you.”

“Do people from other houses beat up Slytherins on regular basis?” Harry was horrified,
completely ignoring the second part of what Zabini had said. He had thought it had only been
that vicious because his situation was unique.

Zabini shrugged. “Not on such a big scale, but some people think they are justified in sending
tripping jinxes and the like in our direction whenever they want. Normally they don’t target
the upper years, because they think that we’ve all learned dark curses and are afraid we’ll use
them, but the younger ones are fair game for idiots like McLaggen.” He looked disgusted.
“At least it’s not the whole school, but every house has some of the special kind of idiots and
besides, we normally give as good as we get.”

Harry picked up another vegetable stick to nibble on and looked out of the window again. He
felt a headache coming on, but he honestly didn’t know if it was because of all the new
information he still had yet to process, or if it was due to the stone wall his head had
connected with earlier.

After a few more minutes he stood up. “I’m going to take a nap.” He nodded to Zabini and
Bulstrode and made his way down to the dorm.

A nap really did sound quite tempting. His whole body still throbbed. Perhaps he needed
another hot shower before lying down? It sounded wonderful, and it felt wonderful.

When Harry lay down after the hot, relaxing shower in his soft and comfortable bed, the
curtains closed and the shields up, he fell asleep before he could muster another thought.

Chapter End Notes

AN:Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

First published: 28th July 2019

 Slytherin Oddities
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.

AN: Finally, another chapter! I am so grateful for your patience and your encouraging
words. Thank you to everyone who subscribed, bookmarked and commented. And for
all the kudos!

Many hugs and kisses to my two wonderful betas Vichan and Cameron Lindsey.

As the whole world is in a crisis, wherever you are, I hope that you are all safe and
healthy and take care of yourself.

Have fun reading.

On with the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

An insistent ringing woke him from his nap, and it took his brain a few moments to realize
that his wards were going off, alerting him to the fact that someone was standing near his
bed. Fumbling for his glasses and wand, Harry tapped the curtains to settle the wards down
and then pushed the curtains open only to find Zabini in front of his bed with an intrigued
expression on his face.

“Those are rather impressive wards, Potter.” Zabini’s gaze wandered from Harry to his bed
frame and curtains. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think that you were trying to keep
someone out. But why would you want to do that?” He smirked and raised an eyebrow.

“You damn well know why I warded my bed.” Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes,
ignoring the twinge coming from his side as he stared at Zabini. “Just be grateful that you
didn’t try to open the curtains. What do you want, Zabini?”

Zabini completely ignored his question. “Ooh - grouchy. Didn’t sleep well in your fortress,
then? Your wards put Azkaban to shame.” He grinned.

Harry frowned at his roommate. “What do you want, Zabini?” he asked more insistently,
wishing Zabini would leave him alone. His head still ached.

“Look, Potter…” Zabini paused. “Yes, I do know why you put wards on your bed. If I had
been sorted into Gryffindor after years in Slytherin, I would be suspicious and on guard, too.
But you heard Professor Snape and Fraser. I’ll admit that I can’t guarantee that all Slytherins
will be welcoming, and I am sure after the shock has been digested, there will be some idiots
who will be behaving antagonistically. But here, in this room, none of us will be coming after
you. In this room, you should feel safe.”

Harry looked at the boy through narrowed eyes. “Why should I believe you and how can you
speak for the others?”

Zabini sighed and looked at Harry before he seemed to come to a decision. “Can I sit?” He
gestured to the bed.

Surprised at the question, Harry nodded. He tapped his wand against his bed frame to lower
the rest of his wards – which got him another raised eyebrow - and Zabini settled on the edge
of the mattress.

“I can’t speak for all of Slytherin, but I know the boys in this room really well - some of them
even from before Hogwarts. They take the house rules very seriously,” he said. “We all grew
up with certain expectations heaped upon us. I have it rather easy since only my mother is in
the picture, and no pure-blood propaganda has been spoon-fed to me since childhood. But the
others…” He sighed.

“We established in our first week here that all of that stays out of this room. There’s no
politics, no propaganda, and no fights over superiority.” He paused, smirking. “And
everything that happens in this room stays in this room. This is our home away from home,
and for some of us, it’s our only home.”

Harry went stiff at this and suppressed the urge to openly stare at Zabini. That sounded far
too close to home for him. Was it really what Harry thought that Zabini hinted at? And who
was he talking about?

Zabini continued. “I know it will take time till you really believe it, but I want to assure you
that this room is a sanctuary for all of us. In here, I don’t confront Draco with his stupidity
when he loudly proclaims his family’s pureblood beliefs. Instead, I encourage him to think
for himself,” he said, “In this room, we normally let the mask slip, even more than in the
common room, and don’t need to be afraid that someone would use our weaknesses against
us. We all want - no, need our dorm to be a sanctuary, and because of that need, every single
one of us has to be on the same page.” He got to his feet. “I know it is a lot to ask of you,
but... think about it, okay?”

Harry could only nod in surprise.

“Good.” Zabini let out a relieved sigh and started to leave but turned back before he opened
the door. “Now hurry and go see Professor Snape. He knows what happened and he’s
waiting.”

Harry sat there for another moment before his brain caught up with what Zabini had said. He
got out of bed and the groan that came out of his mouth wasn’t only due to the aching from
the bruises. It was just his luck - on his very first day in Slytherin, he had managed to warrant
three meetings with Snape.
Despite his fears, it wasn’t nearly as bad as Harry thought it would be. Snape stared at him
with a freakishly unreadable expression and reprimanded him for walking around alone
despite the instruction he had received. Predictably, he placed a few scathing insults in his
speech.

He looked utterly unconvinced when Harry said he was fine and made that clear when he
checked Harry for a concussion. It seemed that someone had told him what had happened in
detail.

Harry could still feel the pressure of the long thin fingers palpating his head, moving it from
side to side, and there were still stars in his eyes from when Snape checked Harry’s pupils
with the light of his wand. Snape had never before touched him, aside from grabbing his arm
to haul him to his office. He had nearly been gentle.

If Harry didn’t have a headache already, it certainly would have induced one.

Still frowning, Snape had handed him a bruise balm for his cheek and a potion for his head,
instructing Harry to come directly to him or Madam Pomfrey if he felt the slightest bit of
dizziness or nausea. He muttered something about idiot Gryffindor tendencies, then made it
clear that he didn’t want to see Harry in the next few days outside of the classroom.

It seemed that even Snape had had enough of seeing Harry three times in one day.

Despite the insults, Snape hadn’t sounded overly harsh, instead seeming more tired and
frustrated. After being ejected from Snape’s office, he stood outside the door with the potion
vial and balm jar in his hands, and the entire situation felt more than a little surreal. Where
the hell had the evil bastard gone? Where was the dungeon bat who had made Harry’s life at
Hogwarts as hellish as he possibly could?

Shaking his head and knowing he wouldn’t find an answer to that, he downed the potion and
made his way to the common room.

Harry settled into a comfortable armchair as far away from the windows as he could. The
dark greenish water reminded him too much of the second task of the Tournament.

A few glances were cast in his direction, but nobody disturbed him and for the next hour he
tried to finally write the letter to his godfather.

After a few scrapped attempts, he decided to keep it simple in the end.

Dear Snuffles,

By now, I think you must have heard what happened. I was resorted into Slytherin.
So far, – it’s not horrible. It’s not Gryffindor, sadly, but I wasn’t attacked instantly and there
hasn’t been any open hostility. But I know it hasn’t even been a whole day yet, so I will keep
my guard up, nonetheless. Mainly, it’s just different.

I’ll understand if my resorting makes you disappointed with me, but the hat was rather
adamant.

Yours,

Harry

It sounded rather cold and distant, but Harry didn’t dare put more emotion in. If Sirius
couldn’t handle his new house, it would be better to be a bit detached. He folded the
parchment and put it in one of the pockets of his robe, intending to visit the owlery before
dinner. With the prospect of visiting Hedwig, Harry felt lighter.

He still had some time until dinner, so Harry settled back and observed his fellow students.
He again realized that his interactions with Slytherins prior to that year had been rather
limited. He hadn’t spared a thought about what they did in their free time. Although Ron
certainly would assume that they were talking about their evil plans or the like, Harry
truthfully hadn’t even thought about it.

As he sat in the common room, he definitely registered the hostile glances thrown his way
from time to time - mostly from the upper years - but he also saw the intrigued glances, some
open, while others were hidden. He had a talent for reading people and their moods as long as
he had the time to familiarise himself with the situation and the environment.

It was obvious that the house of snakes behaved differently inside the dungeons. There were
still masks up - similar to the ones he was used to - but he had never before actually realized
that they were masks. Even so, there were cracks in the icy exteriors and the more he just sat
there and melted into the background, the more he saw them let their guard down. It wasn’t
entirely surprising after everything he had already learned since yesterday.

What he hadn’t anticipated were the dares.

Dares seemed to be constantly thrown around the common room, and there didn’t seem to be
any kind of separation between the years. Students daring another student in the same year
were just as common as younger to older and vice versa.

A second year who had apparently been to Japan during the holidays had brought back an
obscene amount of sweets, among them was something Harry heard him call ‘Mochi.’ What
he could see from afar was a round, and apparently very sticky ball of something that
resembled marshmallow. The boy dared his friends to eat more than one at a time and nearly
fell from his chair in laughter when his friends almost choked. One of them went blue in the
face before the Head Girl had to step in to cast a spell and rescue the boy.
At another table some girls dared each other to touch a plant which reminded Harry of a cross
between a Venus flytrap and a cactus. It had bared thin, sharp teeth at them and nearly took a
finger from one when her reflexes weren’t fast enough.

There were dares about food, schoolwork, clothes, and seemingly everything else under the
sun, including simple ‘dares’ to play a game of chess or gobstones. Some looked harmless
and utterly meaningless, such as the two boys who were dared to sit next to each other for
twenty minutes. Nothing happened - they didn’t even talk - but afterward the ones who had
dared them seemed to owe them a favour.

Favours were another concept Harry discovered. Not only did the snakes dare each other over
everything, but it also seemed that they traded and paid in favours, as if they were currency.

It baffled him.

Who knew that the ambition Slytherin was known for would show itself in dares – especially
stupid dares like eating a handful of obscenely hot peppers?

Who would have thought the famous cunning and determination would present itself in
trying to outsmart each other and trapping someone with a favour?

Harry found himself flabbergasted as he watched. The whole situation intrigued him but
made him also aware of just how different Slytherin was from where he had come from.

And despite the constant dares and challenges, the common room wasn’t chaotic or overly
loud. It was still easy enough to find quiet parts where people were reading or writing.

All in all, it made Harry’s head hurt again, despite the potion he had taken. He could tell that
there was a system to it all - from who could dare whom to why and in what amount someone
was owed a favour. There obviously was a hierarchy to it, and at first he thought it was from
younger to older, as some of the elder students simply didn’t accept a dare.

But then a third year dared a sixth year to go to dinner with pink hair. The sixth year refused
to do it, and the third year won a favour. After that, Harry wasn’t sure what the hierarchy
was.

But he was sure of one thing: Slytherin was far stranger than he had originally thought.

Resigning himself to the fact that he couldn’t hope to understand the system in the span of
one evening – or ever - Harry decided to go to the owlery before dinner.

Hedwig must have missed him, or else she guessed that something was bothering him. She
landed on his shoulder the moment he entered the owlery and then had started picking at his
hair with her beak and butting her head into his - effectively grooming him and attempting to
snuggle. She nearly refused to leave his shoulder when it was time for him to go.
Harry felt lighter as he walked down the stairs to the Great Hall. At least Hedwig didn’t care
if he was in one house or the other. He just hoped that for a few certain people it would be the
same. There was a nagging feeling and an annoying voice in the back of his head that
reminded him how Sirius hated everything that was linked to his family, and that definitely
included the house of Slytherin.

He just hoped that Sirius would see him as the exception, and that the letter Hedwig was
carrying across the country wouldn’t be the last one he would send his godfather.

“Harry.”

Startled, Harry stopped in his tracks. Neville stood near the entrance to the Great Hall.
Cautiously, Harry stepped up to his former roommate.

Neville’s normally soft, round face looked more serious than Harry had ever seen. His eyes
flickered from Harry to either side of him, and Harry realized that a few students had started
slowing their pace on their way to dinner. It seemed apparent to Harry that they were only
dawdling so they could watch him and Neville.

Neville took a deep breath, raised his chin, and spoke in a steady voice that carried across the
entrance hall. “I only wanted to tell you that my gran thinks it’s rubbish what the Daily
Prophet is writing,” he said. “She cancelled our subscription because she thinks it’s going
downhill. We believe you and Dumbledore.” He paused. “My gran always said You-Know-
Who would come back one day. She says if Dumbledore and you say that he’s back, he’s
back. I only wanted you to know that.” He offered Harry a small, sympathetic smile. “And I
also want you to know that we miss you in Gryffindor but being in Slytherin doesn’t change
who you are.” He nodded to Harry, gave another short glance at the people around them, then
tucked his head and went into the Great Hall.

Harry just stood in place for a moment, feeling a rush of gratitude towards Neville. He heard
whispers starting up around him, and he shook himself out of his stupor to follow Neville
into the Hall.

He hadn’t known how much he had wanted to hear someone besides Hermione say those
exact words to him, and the fact that it was the normally quiet and shy Neville made it even
more significant. If Neville believed him - not only in regard to Voldemort but also that he
wasn’t any different because he changed to Slytherin - perhaps Ron would eventually come
around.

Feeling like a weight had been lifted, Harry sat down at the Slytherin table without thinking
about it, and then it occurred to him that he was sitting in the exact same spot as he had the
previous night with Zabini and Nott on either side. As he looked up and down the table, he
realized that nearly everyone was sitting in the exact same spot.

“Do you have a sitting order?”

Zabini grinned at him. “You are more observant than people give you credit for. Yes, we do.”
Harry studied the placement of each student but couldn’t see a pattern. Even so, he was again
fairly sure that there was some kind of hierarchy in the snake’s house- a hierarchy he wasn’t
sure he wanted to be a part of, much less understand.

The food arrived, Harry’s plate filling automatically again as it had at lunch, and quiet
conversations started up around him. Harry looked at his plate with a frown; even though the
portion seemed small compared to what some of the others had on their plates, he wasn’t sure
if he was hungry at all. He had already had more to eat over the span of the day than he had
in a long time.

He felt eyes on him and when he looked around, he saw several older Slytherins further down
the table, the Head Girl, Malfoy, along with Snape and Pomfrey all watching him
expectantly.

At least he now knew who the other Slytherin prefects were. Reluctantly, he began to eat.

“Where were you before dinner?” Zabini asked him.

Harry blinked at him and swallowed before answering. “At the owlery.”

“Alone?” Bulstrode cut in.

“Yes. I wanted to send a letter. Why?” He looked at Bulstrode in confusion, who groaned
while the others looked at him with various expressions of disbelief.

“After what happened earlier today, you decided to walk alone to the owlery?” Greengrass
narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m starting to think you definitely lack at least one typical
Slytherin attribute.”

“And that would be?” Harry asked, slightly annoyed. He hadn’t even thought about asking
someone to walk with him to the owlery. He had to admit it was probably a stupid decision,
especially when he still felt the sting in his side and the dull throbbing in his temple.

“Self-preservation.”

Harry stared at the blond girl, then shrugged. From the perspective of a Slytherin, he
supposed she wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Oh, come on, he lacks more than self-preservation,” Parkinson snapped. “I’m still not sure
that Potter belongs in Slytherin at all.” She glared at Harry, though not as fiercely as she had
the day before.

Harry wasn’t at all hurt by her comment. In fact, it was somewhat of a relief to know that at
least one of his yearmates hadn’t changed their behaviour or feelings towards him. Of course,
perhaps the others also hadn’t but were better at hiding it.

Harry forced himself to stop thinking about Slytherins and their masks.

Greengrass gave his hand a pat while the others grinned at him; even Malfoy’s lips seemed to
twitch. “Don’t worry,” Greengrass said. “You’ll learn self-preservation fast enough.”
Somehow her smile wasn’t reassuring, and nobody commented on Parkinson’s outburst. The
brown-haired witch turned her attention back to her plate, but not without an irritated huff
and the air of annoyance around her.

Harry rolled his eyes and looked down at his plate, surprised to find it empty. He felt full but
not uncomfortably so. He still decided to forgo dessert; perhaps in a few days his stomach
would be up to it. Setting his cutlery aside, he turned to Zabini.

“What do you do normally in the evenings?”

Zabini shrugged as he finished his own plate.

“Nothing much. Normally homework or just hanging around in the common room.”

“Do you play chess?” Malfoy cut in, looking at Harry. For a moment he was startled by the
neutral expression on the boy’s face. That definitely needed some time to get used to.

“I know how to play, but not very well. Ron always beats me.”

Malfoy sneered. “I can’t imagine Weasley is that good of a player.”

Harry scowled at him. “Ron did beat McGonagall’s giant chess game in first year, and
nobody in Gryffindor can beat him.”

Before the blond could say anything, he winced and looked to Zabini. “Blaise, what was that
for?” Harry made an educated guess that Zabini had kicked Malfoy under the table.

“For being stupid.” Then the dark-skinned boy turned to Harry. “Are you up for a game?”

Harry shrugged. “Sure, why not? But like I said - I’m horrible at chess.”

The moment he left the Great Hall a hand reached out and grabbed him, and he found himself
flanked by two identical red-haired grinning Gryffindors.

“Dear Harry-kins,” one said.

“Great, sweet Harry-kins,” the other said.

“We have a proposal for you,” they both said in unison.

Harry shook their hands off and crossed his arms in front of his chest to hide his shaking
hands, whether from adrenaline or fear of being grabbed unexpectedly, he wasn’t sure. “Do I
want to know?”

“Oh, we are very sure...”

“... that you would want to know.”

Harry closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the stone wall, groaning. “Guys, you
are giving me a headache and I already had one today.”

When he opened his eyes again, they were looking at him with unusually serious expressions.
“We heard what happened with McLaggen.” Fred said - or at least Harry thought it was Fred.

“And you can be sure that the point loss and detentions will be the least of his problems.”
George’s toothy grin was frightening.

Harry sighed. “What do you want?”

“You know, Harry dear, we found this generous sponsor at the end of last school year. And
now we want to expand.” Fred winked at Harry.

“Bring our products to the students,” George said.

“To all students. But unfortunately, one Hogwarts house is closed to us.” Fred sighed
dramatically.

“As if they didn’t trust us.” His twin shook his head in mock sadness.

“But you - you, dear Harry-kins, greatest of all snakes, our most favourite Slytherin - you
have intel there.” The grin was back.

“You could open a way into Slytherin for us.” Now they sounded awed, but the devilish grin
and the twinkle in their eyes told Harry enough.

“You want me to talk with my new housemates - who aren’t completely sure about me even
being in their house - about buying your prank and joke products?”

“Exactly!” They both spoke together. “Even Slytherins want to escape from classes from time
to time. And if they don’t want to buy from us, you could sell the products to them.”

“Er – ” Harry wasn’t sure what he should say, but thankfully he didn’t need to.

“Potter?” Zabini’s voice made the twins turn around. “Everything all right?”

Frowning, the boy stood at the entrance to the dungeon and looked from Harry to the twins,
who both grinned at him. “We only needed to talk with our dear little Harry –.”

Harry stopped Fred from talking by elbowing him.

“Everything’s fine. They only wanted to talk.” Turning to the twins he sighed. “I’ll think
about it.” He practically could feel the grin from both of them.

Then he walked towards Zabini and followed him down the stairs.

“Think about what?”

 “Nothing.” Harry wasn’t sure what he should think about the twins’ proposal. Would the
Slytherins even be interested in their products? Or would they be suspicious because they
came from Gryffindors?

But the knowledge that the only reason the twins cared about him being a Slytherin was
because he could open a line of business into the house made him feel warm. First Neville
had shown his support, then the twins. Now if only Ron would come around, then Harry was
sure he could handle everything.

Chapter End Notes

AN:Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

Neville’s speech is quoted from HP 5.

First published: 18th of March 2020

 Sunday moods
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine. I simply love to play with it.

AN: So, finally the next chapter. You are all so patient, thank you all for that. And a
huge thanks to everyone who subscribed, bookmarked and commented. And for all the
kudos!

As always thanks to my marvellous betas Vichan and Cameron Lindsey.

Sirius gave me some problems in this chapter.

I hope wherever you are, you are healthy and safe and take care of you and your loved
ones.

Have fun reading.

On with the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

On Sunday, Harry was again the first in the dorm to wake up, his heart racing from the
lingering fear from a nightmare. He couldn’t remember what the dream had been about, and
the familiar terror was absent. Tea had appeared in the evening, hot and steaming beside his
bed, and it seemed to help in a way - even if it hadn’t kept the nightmares completely away.

He couldn’t help but wonder how it would have been if he was in his bed in Gryffindor
tower. Normally he slept like the dead in his four-poster bed surrounded by red and gold.

And while he’d had nightmares over the years - about Quirrell, the Basilisk, and Dementors -
he had always felt safe in the dorm. He loved to sleep in whenever possible.

But now he didn’t think it was just the Slytherin dorm.

All his previous adventures, if they could be called that, just didn’t compare to what had
happened in the graveyard. So Harry was wide awake – again – and breakfast was still hours
away.

For a moment he listened to the sleeping sounds of the other boys in the room. He knew
himself well enough to realise that he wouldn’t fall back asleep, no matter how comfortable
and warm the bed or how calming the quiet. It couldn’t compare to the soothing atmosphere
of his old room in the tower and the boys sleeping in the other beds were not Ron or Neville
or Dean or Seamus.
Their noises were unfamiliar, and it made him uneasy.

So he got up and savoured the chance for a long, uninterrupted hot shower, knowing that
none of his dorm mates would be awake for quite some time.

Afterward he took the book he had started the day before and settled into an armchair near a
fireplace again. And similar to yesterday, the first person to enter the common room was the
Head Girl, and she sent Harry a speculative look as he sat there with his book, a blanket, and
a mug of hot chocolate.

As it was still early on Sunday, only a handful of people crossed the common room on their
way to breakfast. Before Harry could decide if he should go alone, Zabini and Nott appeared.
Zabini spotted Harry and led a rather sleepy-looking Nott over to him, giving him a
speculative look. “Awake so early again?”

Harry shrugged. “Apparently.”

It was clear that Zabini stopped himself from commenting further and after a jaw-splitting
yawn, he asked, “Breakfast?”

“Sure.” He looked shortly to Nott, who stood beside Zabini, dozing off while standing.
Zabini only sighed, took Nott by the elbow, and led them to the nearly empty Great Hall.

Professor Sprout, the only one sitting at the teacher’s table, was sipping on a cup of tea and
looked entirely too awake and happy. A handful of students were at the Ravenclaw and
Hufflepuff table, but not a single Gryffindor was in sight. At the Slytherin table, beside Harry
and his two yearmates, only the Head Girl and a few upper years were present.

It was apparent that most of the students slept in, taking advantage of the weekend, and as he
observed the crumpled look of Nott and the rather silent Zabini, he suspected that his dorm
mates normally would have done the same. The huge yawn from Zabini and the half-closed
eyes of Nott would make Harry question why they were already up, if he hadn’t had a
suspicion already.

He sat down and sighed when he saw the potion vial appearing beside his plate, and the
pointed glance from the Head Girl made it clear that they had an eye on him, especially when
her attention only left him after he gulped down the nutrition potion.

Harry could only hope that it would get better with time; he knew that at one point he would
explode under all the scrutiny. Being watched made him feel nervous and it stirred the
simmering pool of anger in him.

Why couldn’t they leave him alone?

Sighing again, Harry prepared himself a cup of tea and watched his two housemates. He had
never really paid attention to them this early in the morning.

Zabini was looking into his teacup with a bleary expression, while Nott dozed off and nearly
fell face-first into his scrambled eggs. He was obviously not a morning person.
Harry briefly grinned at that. That was a side of the Slytherin boys he never had seen.

But it also made him realize that he still didn’t know much of his new dorm mates.

Which ones among them shared their parents’ views on purebloods and Voldemort? Too
much had happened the day before for Harry to really have the time to start worrying and
thinking about the situation. But now, with the novelty of his sorting gone, Harry’s thoughts
were chaotic.

Despite Zabini’s reassurance that their political views didn’t matter in their dorm, Harry
couldn’t prevent himself from worrying now.

He knew that beside Zabini, all the other boys had Death Eaters in their families.

When he closed his eyes, he could still see the graveyard and the appearance of those hooded
and masked wizards. He could still hear Voldemort’s cold, high voice. Harry was sure he
would never forget the names of the people who stood by as he duelled that monster.

As he looked to the quiet, unassuming, brown-haired boy, Harry couldn’t prevent a brief
shiver. He didn’t know if Nott was a common family name, and he couldn’t be sure if the
Death Eater he had encountered was the father or brother or uncle of the boy sitting in front
of him.

At the same time, he wasn’t even sure if it mattered.

He knew that at least the fathers of Crabbe, Goyle, and - not to forget - Malfoy had been
there. They had stood by and watched as Voldemort had tried to kill a boy that was the same
age as their sons.

Could he really live and interact with housemates coming from such families? Could he trust
that high-praised Slytherin house mentality? Could he really forget who he was sharing a
dorm with? Could he even give them the chance to show him that they were not their fathers?
Did they even want to be anything different than their fathers?

He would be perfectly fine with being at the periphery of Slytherin house. He didn’t need to
make friends; he only needed to survive the next few years.

But based on their behaviour so far, he wasn’t sure that they would let him merely exist at the
outskirts of the house. Zabini seemed to be trying to befriend Harry and get him to see his
peers in a different light.

Why? What was his goal? Was it just to include Harry into their house?

Did Harry even want that?

And why should he? Harry had been perfectly fine living across the castle from them and
never needing to wonder if those boys were anything different than their fathers.

The anger, which never really left him these days, burned hot in his stomach.
Harry looked down at his still full plate, his hunger gone. Mindful of the eyes on him, he
pushed the food around on his plate to give at least the illusion of eating.

The situation had still felt so unreal the previous day, but today Harry felt like he was floating
and didn’t know which way was up and which way was down. He had somehow felt as if he
could handle it before, but now he wasn’t so sure anymore.

His stomach clenched. Whether it was from hunger, anger, or uncertainty, he didn’t know.

It was only the second day. Why couldn’t he just let it be? Why couldn’t he handle it like he
did all the other strange and dangerous situations? Why couldn’t he just shrug it off and move
forward?

Yes, the graveyard had happened. Yes, the families of his new housemates played a role in
what had happened. Yes, he was now a Slytherin.

And no, Harry was not okay with it. He was rather angry about it.

He was just so mad all the time; the constant feeling of wanting to rant and scream, or to hide
and never be bothered by anyone again, didn’t help him cope with everything that had
happened.

Irritated at himself for not handling the situation how he should, at his own insecurity and
fragility, Harry pushed his plate away and stood. Zabini and Nott looked up from their own
plates.

“I’m going to the library.”

Before anyone could respond, Harry walked out of the Great Hall and sighed in relief when
the two didn’t follow him.

Harry spent the rest of the morning in the Library with Hermione as company, and the
normality of the situation helped to soothe his temper. They talked about everything and
nothing after Hermione had shaken her head before Harry could even mention Ron.

He didn’t bother asking.

They worked on finishing their last assignments, or in Hermione’s case, checking her already
completed and extra-long essays for mistakes. Hermione was surprised to hear that Davis –
and then Zabini and Malfoy – had helped Harry with his Potions essay and had read over it
with rising alarm.

She started to pull out reference books and began muttering things like, “It never would have
occurred to me to think that way.” Every once in a while, she even asked him to clarify
something in his essay, and nobody was more surprised than Harry when he could.
He would never be really good in Potions but at least he understood more of the fundamental
basics than he had before, all thanks to the people who had sabotaged his Potions effort more
often than not in the last few years. The contradictions made his head hurt if he thought about
them too much, so he pushed it from his mind.

Hermione grilled him over all the details in his essay and was only satisfied after he really
could explain what he wrote, and in the end, she seemed genuinely impressed with him. But
when Harry assured her that he wouldn’t mind if she copied some stuff, she vehemently
disagreed.

“If I simply copy, I will learn nothing.”

It was familiar and soothing in a way.

At some point they were interrupted by Zabini and, surprisingly, Malfoy, and Harry realized
that it was already lunch time. He didn’t know what he should think about the fact that the
Slytherins took their babysitting duties so seriously. He only hoped Malfoy hadn’t told Zabini
why exactly they came to get Harry. But judging by the way Zabini hadn’t looked surprised
when Harry’s plate had filled by itself, the boy either had a perfect poker face, guessed what
was going on, or the Slytherins were worse gossips than Lavender and the Patil twins.

By the complete lack of surprise on any of the Slytherins' faces, Harry guessed that he wasn’t
the first one to get prescribed meals.

He didn’t want to think about what that actually meant.

Sighing, Harry ignored the conversations around him. He just wasn’t in the mood to play
nice, but he also didn’t want to think about why he was so broody and angry.

He quickly glanced up to the Gryffindor table, but Ron was sitting with his back to him and
hadn’t even looked at him when Harry had walked into the Great Hall.

Yesterday he had felt so hopeful after Neville and the twins had talked to him.

But getting the cold shoulder from Ron along with not yet hearing from Sirius seemed to
have drained that hope out of him.

An elbow brought him out of his brooding and Harry nearly jumped out of his seat.

“Sorry. Didn’t think you were that far gone into your head,” a sheepish looking Zabini said.
“Are you finished? We are heading back to the common room. You still owe me a chess
game.” The dark-skinned boy smiled hopefully at him.

“I don’t –”

“Oh, come on Potter. Do you have something better to do?” Greengrass interrupted him.

“I’m not finished –”

“I don’t think that you will eat that anymore.” The blond witch looked at his plate with a
slightly disgusted expression.

Harry could only agree as he saw the mess he had created on his plate. It seemed he had
mixed everything together, and now he wasn’t even sure what had been on it. It certainly
didn’t look appetizing.

He ignored the frown from some of the prefects around him and got up, following Zabini
down to the dungeons. He supposed a few rounds of losing in chess couldn’t hurt.

Perhaps it would even improve the strange mood he was in.

To Harry’s utter surprise Zabini was even worse than Harry was in chess. He couldn’t believe
it at first when he won the first game. The second he was putting on luck. By the fifth he
accused Zabini of letting him win.

“Hey, I’m not that desperate to make you like me to lose in chess,” Zabini cried out in
indignation. “I’m a Slytherin, you know. House of ambition?” He set the game board again.

“And theoretically cunningness, but I’m horrified to see that Potter has more cunning in him
than you, Blaise. He is a Slytherin for - what? – not even two whole days,” Malfoy
commented with a smirk sitting beside them in an armchair, reading. “You are an utter
disgrace for our house, Blaise.”

That made Zabini throw himself dramatically into the couch-cushion. “Do you hear that,
Potter?” He gestured to Malfoy. “And he calls himself a friend. I think I’ll replace him. So,
Potter - I have a spot free for a friend. Are you interested?” Zabini looked at him with a
hopeful expression.

But Harry couldn’t muster a reply. He was completely dumbfounded by the situation, the
conversation, and how much they let him see them relaxed and without their masks. Again,
his world felt like it was upside down.

“I’m that easy to replace? I’m heartbroken,” deadpanned Malfoy, not even looking up from
his book.

Harry wasn’t sure if he really needed to contribute to the conversation and instead decided to
nibble on one of the small sandwiches, which had appeared sometime during their second
game. The action also helped to hide a grin at Malfoy’s remark. Who knew that he would one
day find a Malfoy funny - and not in an antagonistic way?

He had to admit he rather liked the dry humour the blond was showing.

“You are heartbroken about what, Draco?” Davis appeared and let herself fall onto the coach
beside Harry. “Checkmate in five moves,” she said with a short glance at their game.
Zabini looked from her to the chessboard with a horrified expression. Harry also shifted his
concentration back to the game, but – no, he didn’t see the checkmate in five moves. He
shrugged and made a move, and Davis frowned at him.

“Blaise wants to replace me with Potter,” Malfoy informed Davis.

“Not a bad idea.”

“What?” Malfoy looked genuinely shocked at that.

Harry coughed to hide the snicker trying to escape him, which got him a slight glare from
Malfoy.

“You have enough self-preservation for an entire house of snakes, and that comes across as
totally arrogant and selfish.” Davis nudged Harry’s finger aside as he reached for one of his
pawns, gesturing to his rook instead.

“Potter here doesn’t have any self-preservation, and he is too noble to throw his friends to the
wolves.” She gently patted his hand in consolation. “If I recall, he even wanted to share the
win of the tournament with Diggory.”

Before Harry could say anything to that, Davis pushed his hand away again. She quickly
commanded one of his pawns for him, let Zabini take said pawn, and then had him move his
queen.

“Checkmate.” She grinned at Zabini, who looked at Davis with wide eyes and an almost
childlike expression of hurt.

Harry was becoming more and more suspicious that Zabini was a complete drama queen and
a softie. It wasn’t a picture he would have connected with the cold and hard persona Zabini
had shown throughout the years.

The way their personalities seemed to adjust to the environment gave him whiplash.

“I can’t watch this. Come on, Tracey, set the board.” Malfoy placed his book on the table and
then smiled at Zabini and Harry. “Watch and learn.”

Davis smirked at him and did as Malfoy told, and then Harry witnessed one of the most
brutal and vicious chess games he had ever seen. Considering he had been an actual piece in
McGonagall’s giant chess game, that was saying something.

Malfoy seemed to think a hundred steps ahead. His moves were precise and he directed his
figures efficiently. The blond played with a cold calculation, trying to trap Davis in ways
Harry never would have seen. He still wouldn’t have seen them if Davis hadn’t played
commentator for him and Zabini. Davis herself seemed to play with utter chaos, jumping
across the board in no apparent patterns, dismantling Malfoy’s traps and chess pieces, who in
turn cursed her under his breath. Overall, despite the differing styles, they were evenly
matched.
Harry watched with fascination and awe and knew Ron would love to play against one of
them. He always complained that he didn’t have enough good opponents. He needed to tell
his friend.

Then he remembered that Ron wasn’t talking to him. Instantly, his mood became gloomy
again. Sighing, he leaned back and watched the game. He would give Ron the benefit of a
doubt. He would give him time, because that’s what friends would do. He would sit and not
think about the way Ron’s absence felt like a bleeding wound.

“Potter!” A call from the entrance of the common room made him jerk his head up. The Head
Girl was looking around the common room for him.

“Yes?”

She walked over and handed him a parchment and a small package. “Post for you. I was at
the owlery when your owl arrived. Beautiful bird, by the way.” She smiled at him.

Harry looked stunned at the letter in his hand, addressed to him in familiar handwriting.
Sirius! Sirius had answered him!

“Ah, yes… thank you.” He looked up to Fraser, then back to his letter. He couldn’t read it
here in the Slytherin common room. “Excuse me.”

He hurried to the dorm and settled on his bed, his hands shaking a little as they clutched the
letter, placing the package aside.

Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the letter.

Harry

Don’t I know how stubborn that blasted old hat is.

Open the package and use what it contains. Just call my name. Be sure to be alone.

Love

Snuffles

That was it? Harry turned the parchment to see if something was on the backside. But no…
those few lines were all.

For a moment Harry wasn’t sure how he should feel. Disappointed? Angry that Sirius
couldn’t even write a whole letter or at least a small reassurance? But then… it wasn’t a
rejection. And what did he mean with the package?
Setting the confusing letter aside, Harry picked up the package and opened it. It was a small
mirror, wrapped in several layers for protection.

Confused, Harry stared into his own green eyes. Why would Sirius send him a mirror? His
eyes fell on the letter again, then back to the mirror, then to the room around him. With a
flick of his wand, Harry closed the curtains and activated his wards. Now nobody would hear
what was going on inside. Taking a deep breath Harry stared at himself in the mirror once
more.

“Sirius?” His voice came out hesitantly and when nothing happened Harry felt stupid.
Sighing, his gaze fell on the note again.

“Sirius,” he said again, a little louder.

Suddenly the face in his mirror wasn’t his own anymore.

“Harry!” His godfather grinned at him. “You got the package!”

“Sirius? Is this really you?”

“Yes, it’s really me.” Sirius smiled gently. He looked good. Nothing physically had changed
but he looked less sad as he had been when they said their goodbyes. There was a light in his
eyes.

“Are you alone?” His eyes darted right and left, trying to see beyond the edges of the mirror.

“Yes, we are alone. Nobody can hear us.” Harry answered and bit on his lip in worry. “What?
How?” He wasn’t entirely sure what he wanted to ask.

“That’s a two-way mirror you are holding in your hands. Precisely, it’s one of a pair of
mirrors. They belonged to me and James, and the one you have in your hands used to be your
father’s.” Sirius started to explain. “We used them for talking to each other during detention.
With this we can talk whenever you like, without someone listening in, as long as you are
alone.”

Harry gulped. Sirius had thought of a way to ensure a way they could talk directly, and it
made Harry feel warm inside. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Sirius looked a little confused.

“For… for ensuring that we can talk. For… still being willing to talk to me.” Harry didn’t
dare to look at Sirius at that moment.

“Oh, pup, of course I still want to talk to you. Yes, I was...” Sirius looked away for a moment.
“...rather appalled when I heard that you were sorted into Slytherin and yes, Remus needed to
interfere and beat some sense into me.” Sirius looked a little sheepish at that. “But in the end,
you are my godson.”

Harry felt relieved hearing that but something made him pause. “What did you do that Lupin
had to interfere?”
“Er… I was perhaps – possibly… maybe – considering coming to Hogwarts to have a word
with the hat, Snape, and Dumbledore.”

“Sirius!” Harry didn’t even want to think what could have happened if Sirius had gone
through with that. “You could have been seen; you could have been arrested!”

“I know, I know. But I’m not stupid. I wouldn’t just walk into the castle. I would have come
as Padfoot; nobody would have looked at a dog twice,” Sirius grumbled. “I could still come if
you need me.” He looked slightly hopeful.

“No!” Harry protested vehemently. “No. Everything is fine. You don’t have to come. To be
able to talk with you like this is enough.”

“But…”

“No ‘but!’”

“You are still in Slytherin!”

Harry sighed. “Yes, I am. And it isn’t as bad as I thought it would be - for now, anyway.”

“But, Harry, it is Slytherin,” Sirius cried out in protest. “And Snivellus is your Head of
House.”

Harry didn’t need to see the horrified expression on his godfather’s face - the disdain was
audible.

“Yes, it is Slytherin and yes, Snape is my Head of house. But it really isn’t that bad. Do
you…” Biting his lip, Harry tried to find the right words. “Does it bother you that I’m not a
Gryffindor anymore?”

He glimpsed at Sirius’s face in the mirror and was a bit startled at the gentle expression he
saw there.

“I don’t want to lie to you. I was... shocked may be the right word - at first, and a bit
disappointed.”

Harry’s breath caught.

“But not at you, Harry…” Harry wasn’t sure what Sirius saw in his expression, but he smiled
at him. “Never at you. I was disappointed because I loved being in Gryffindor and would
wish that you would experience your whole school life there and yes, I couldn’t comprehend
that the son of James and Lily would be in....”

Sirius took a deep breath. “But Remus talked some sense into me. What you went through…
that’s bound to change you, just as Azkaban changed me. It will take a while for me to come
to terms with everything, and not just my godson being a…. Slytherin.”

He grimaced and his eyes looked haunted. “You know, Azkaban was not a nice place and
sometimes I feel like I’m still there, and as Remus said – it’s thanks to that place that I never
really grew up.” He took another breath. “You know that I ran away from my family when I
was your age? I hated my family, and they were all Slytherins and as dark as you could get.
That association is hard to overcome for me.”

Sirius was silent for a moment and Harry waited, holding his breath. Would it come now?
The rejection?

“But then I thought about Regulus, my little brother. He was this curious but silent child,
always following me around when we were younger. But the older I got, the more I clashed
with my parents, and Regulus… I think he fell into the role to appease our parents.
Everything he did was so they could have at least one son they could be proud of - from their
point of view, anyway. We grew apart during our time at Hogwarts. He was sorted into
Slytherin, even became a Death Eater later, but he disappeared at some point. I don’t know
what happened to him.”

Sirius’s expression was closed off. “But I loved my little brother - still love him. Yes, he
became cold and aloof during his years in Slytherin, but he wasn’t evil. He just… tried to
make our parents happy. But he was never vicious, even if he was in Slytherin.”

They were silent for a moment.

“It will take me time to get used to you not being in Gryffindor and get over my aversion to
Slytherin. But I think I’ll manage, and if not, Remus and Andromeda will certainly force
some sense into me.” Sirius grinned at him.

“Andromeda?” Harry wasn’t sure if he had ever heard that name.

Sirius’s eyes went huge. “Oh, right, I haven’t told you about Dromeda. Andromeda Tonks is
my favourite cousin; I think you met her daughter, Nymphadora Tonks, this summer. She is a
Black by birth but married a Muggleborn. She was disowned for that and blown right off of
the family tree. She was and is a true Slytherin – her words.” Sirius barked out a laugh.

“But she isn’t wrong. Dromeda is very cunning and can be vicious – never try to bet against
her, believe me. And she is very determined, as shown by her pursuit of Ted – her husband -
against the wishes and orders of her family. She is also brave, and I think she would have
made a fine Gryffindor - but never tell her that.” Sirius smiled at him. “I think you would like
her. After I came over the shock of you sorting and began ranting about evil Slytherins and
going to Hogwarts to have a word with Dumbledore, Tonks fire-called her mother, who gave
me a stern talking-to. She told me that if you have problems understanding Slytherin, just
write her.”

“So, you don’t…” Harry hesitated.

“It’s okay, really. It will take a little more time till I’m actually okay with it, but I need to
realize that you are not James - something Remus reminded me of.” Sirius looked a little
guilty. “That’s actually really hard for me - separating James and you. But you getting sorted
into another house than Gryffindor was somehow the wakeup-call I seemed to need.” He
sighed and continued. “I also understand that it’s really hard arguing with the sorting hat. I
know this because I did during my own sorting. That dratted thing wanted to put me in
Slytherin, because apparently the wish to be totally different from my family is very
ambitious.”

Chuckling, Sirius continued. “Nearly couldn’t convince it that I would rather run away than
be in Slytherin, which it finally took as a sign of great bravery and sent me to Gryffindor. So,
no, Harry - if the house of the resourceful and determined is the place you should be, then it
is so. And as long as you don’t have problems with it…” He looked at Harry with a
concerned expression.

Harry took a breath. “Well… so far it’s okay and nothing happened. They are rather neutral
and my yearmates are trying to integrate me… but classes haven’t even started, so I’m not
sure how it’s actually gonna go and their families…” He trailed off.

“Listen to me, Harry.” Sirius’s expression darkened. “If anybody - and I mean anybody - tries
to do something, go to Snape.”

Harry stared at him in shock.

“I may not like him, but he is your Head of House and he is in the Order. Most importantly,
he knows the ins and outs of his house. I don’t trust him, but Dumbledore does, and that
needs to be enough for now. So, if anything happens, go to him. And if you can’t, go to
McGonagall. You’re not one of hers anymore, but I’m sure she is still willing to listen and
help. And call me. I will have the mirror with me the whole time. Call me whenever you need
me, okay?” Sirius’s tone was insistent.

Harry couldn’t speak, but he nodded. It meant a lot to him - that Sirius didn’t just give him a
well-meaning lie that he had no problem with it, but instead had actually explained himself.
Not only that, but that he could call him whenever he needed him, and that he would have
someone besides his friends he could turn to…

He took a breath. “Thank you.”

Sirius’s expression was soft. “Always pup.”

They said their goodbyes and Harry sank back into his pillows, placing the mirror carefully
aside. That had not been what he had expected. For several moments he fought with his
emotions.

Perhaps he actually could do this. But his stomach clenched at the thought of the following
day. The next day was when classes would start, and he wouldn’t be able to avoid students
from the other houses as he’d been doing.

It made him nervous. In the morning, life as a Slytherin would start for real.

His conversation with Sirius still rolled around in his head, and determination filled Harry.
He hadn’t thought that Sirius would be so supportive. He could do this. He had managed
when everybody thought he was the heir of Slytherin and when they thought he cheated his
way into the tournament.
 He could definitely handle three years as a Slytherin student.

Chapter End Notes

AN:Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

First published: 5th of May 2020

Last edited: 18th of March 2021
 Classes begin
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine.

AN: I know it took a while to get into writing again, and I am sorry for it, especially
because I wanted to write but simply couldn’t, for a few months I wasn’t sure if I would
be able to come back. This was in parts because of private matters, stress and angry
moods and simply the year 2020 being as it was. And I needed the time to come to terms
with separating creator from the creation. We fans took over long ago, it’s ours, far more
than hers. I love this fandom and I refuse to let one person – no matter who – destroy
that for me.

So, thank you all for being patient, and for subscribing, bookmarking and commenting.
This new chapter is for all of you.
I hope wherever you are, you are healthy and safe and take care of yourself and your
loved ones.

As always thanks to my marvellous betas Vichan and Cameron Lindsey.

Have fun reading.

On with the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry wasn’t even surprised when he opened his eyes to a dark and quiet room. He again had
only a few hours of sleep behind him. Sighing, he turned on his back, listening to the soft
sleeping sounds of the other occupants of the dorm. Apart from Crabbe or Goyle, that was;
one of them was snoring worse than Ron ever had.

He counted himself lucky that he couldn’t remember having a nightmare, but only getting a
few hours of sleep when he had classes that day wasn’t any better.

Classes as a Slytherin student.

Staring at the canopy of his four-poster bed Harry tried to quiet the chaos in his mind, but he
had no luck. He never had been able to calm his thoughts; his mind just jumped from one
jumbled thought to the other.

How would the students react?

How would the Slytherins behave in class?

Would they expect him to behave differently?

Would the teachers treat him differently now?

Would the teachers have different demands now that he was a snake instead of a lion?
Gryffindor wasn’t really known for their studiousness, not unless your name was Percy
Weasley or Hermione Granger.

Oh, Merlin… Hermione.

How would he be able to survive classes without Hermione? And homework! Would they
have different assignments in classes now that they weren’t both Gryffindors?

He imagined himself sitting in the classroom, surrounded by Slytherins and couldn’t prevent
a small shudder. Would Snape allow him to sit with the Gryffindors? Certainly not. Perhaps if
he arrived early enough, he could claim a seat in the back and not engage with anyone, but he
didn’t think that Zabini would let him. He wouldn’t allow it if his behaviour so far was any
indication, anyway.

And Malfoy…

Another shudder went through him at the thought of sitting beside Malfoy - even if a small
voice told him that Malfoy had behaved rather neutrally thus far - while trying to listen to the
professors. He had problems concentrating on classes in a hostile environment; like all his
Potion classes thus far; his subconscious tried to keep track of Snape and Malfoy and… well,
most of the hostile Slytherins. Sitting between people he didn’t know all that well and had
considered as enemies - okay, not enemies, but at least opponents up until a few days ago -
well… there was nothing he could do to change that.

And speaking of Potions, how would Snape behave towards him now that his favourite
victim for ridiculing and removing points was in his own house? Harry fervently hoped he
wouldn’t concentrate even more on Neville now; the poor guy didn’t deserve that at all. And
somehow Harry didn’t believe that Snape, even after how he behaved since Harry’s sorting,
would – or rather – could change that much. He just couldn’t see it happen.

There were certainties in life. The sun went up every morning, magic was real, Hermione
Granger was the smartest witch of her age, and Snape bullied Harry whenever he could,
especially in Potions class.

Somehow the thought of Snape berating him in Potions made him feel better. That was how it
was. That was something he was used to - it was something normal and unchanged.

Harry snuggled under the blanket, hoping to sleep a little more. His eyes felt dry and his
limbs heavy. Thankfully nothing hurt anymore; he only felt a little sore and so very tired. He
definitely needed more sleep. He tried to only think about a typical Potions class. Snape
would snap and call him a dunderhead - nothing new, business as usual. Funny enough, that
helped focus his thoughts.

But sleep still wouldn’t come. After endless shifting from side to side, he sighed and climbed
out of bed.
The moment Harry stepped into the common room he had to smile as he caught sight of a
blanket wrapped over the armchair he had used the last two mornings and a cup of hot,
delicious, strong tea. Harry hoped it was tea, at least. Hot chocolate was fine too, but with
how tired he was, something strong would be better.

As he settled down, Harry swore he would go to the kitchen within the next few days to
thank the house elves. They had made him a perfectly strong cup of tea, with just the right
amount of milk and sugar; it was exactly how he liked it. Content, he sipped his tea while
watching the flickering shadows the fire produced. Yes, the common room still felt too wide
and open, but he quite liked the bigger space compared to the lion’s common room.

Even with all of Slytherin house present, the room hadn’t felt too crowded the day before.

Harry let his mind wander, trying not to think of his upcoming classes, but rather of his talk
with his godfather. The warm feeling Sirius’ support had given him made him smile, as well
as the constant support of Hermione and even the twins’ behaviour. They hadn’t treated him
any different than they had before.

He knew it was difficult for Sirius; he understood it even better now that he had offered the
explanation of his family, especially his brother. Harry also knew that Azkaban had damaged
Sirius, especially his mind.

He hoped he could see him during Christmas break, but until then he swore to write him at
least once a week to show him that he still was Harry, his godson, that Slytherin wouldn’t –
couldn’t – change who he was. He wanted to deepen the relationship they had built over
irregularly exchanged letters in the last year. Harry wasn’t even sure who would need it more
- Sirius or himself.

He was startled out of his thoughts when he heard footsteps and the Head Girl stepped into
the room. He hadn’t looked at the time since sitting down, but he had been sure that it had not
even been four o’clock when he had woken up.

Blinking, he sought out the big clock on the mantel, which Harry was just now registering
was adorned with snakes, realizing that it was after six now. Extracting himself from his
blanket, Harry made his way back to his dorm to get his school things and freshen up.

As he opened the door, he realized that it was the first time that he was in the room with all of
the occupants awake. If anybody had asked him how he thought the Slytherins behaved in the
mornings before classes, it certainly wouldn’t have been what he was seeing.

He took a step back to make sure he was in the right room.

Yes… yes, it was indeed the fifth year’s dorm.

Opening the door all the way to step inside, Harry didn’t even try to be quiet. It wasn’t
necessary for him to remain silent with all the noise the others were making. He made his
way to his bed.

“Draco, I swear - if you took my favourite quill again, I’ll switch out your shampoo with the
stuff Lockhart used!” Nott was snarling loudly from his position at the foot of his bed. He
was only half-dressed as he searched through his trunk. “And where the hell are my
assignments for Potions and Transfiguration? Draco, I’m warning you...”

Harry was surprised that Nott was even awake; the day before he had gotten the impression
that the boy was not a morning person. But if he looked at him now - shirt hanging out of his
trousers, no shoes, no robes, hair looking rather similar to Harry’s own typical bird’s nest,
only blinking shortly at him as Harry passed by -, actually, no… Nott was still not a morning
person.

“Don’t you dare!” came the slightly muffled answer from inside the curtains of the four-
poster bed across from Harry’s.

Harry sighed. Somehow, he wasn’t even surprised that Malfoy was directly across from him.
Across from Nott, Crabbe was lying spread out on his bed, already dressed but snoring –
loudly. At least now he knew who of the two big guys that ruckus had been coming from.
Goyle, sitting on his own bed beside Crabbe, seemed to be concentrated on closing his shirt,
the buttons too small for his large hands and thick fingers.

As he stepped up to the bed beside his own, he was met with the sight of Zabini nearly
crawling into his wardrobe, bare feet and trousered legs the only part of his body visible, and
Harry could hear muttering in a combination of English and what sounded like Italian.

Before he could take another step, Zabini emerged from the depths of his wardrobe holding
up a bright, multi-coloured sock. “Found you!” He saw Harry staring at him. “Oh - morning,
Potter. Up early again?” He grinned at him. “First day of classes is always a little chaotic.”

He gestured towards Nott, who had emptied all of the contents of his trunk onto the floor.
This led to Goyle, who by now had finished dressing, stepping on something which gave way
with a crunch, and he let out a pained grunt.

“Oh, Merlin and Morgana, Greg! Can’t you look where you plant your big feet?” Nott
snarled at him and held up what seemed to be the remains of a wooden figure before diving
into the pile again. Profanities and curses came out of his mouth that would have made the
twins either red-faced or proud.

Yes, Harry thought after a moment, definitely proud.

If Harry had uttered only one of the words Nott had used, Aunt Petunia would have washed
out his mouth with soap before sending him into his room without food for at least a day.

Suddenly, the curtains of Malfoy’s bed were pushed open, and a dishevelled and sleepy
looking Malfoy stumbled out, hair in disarray and sticking out at odd angles. Still in his
pyjamas, which were made of some kind of shimmering black and green material, he scowled
in Nott’s direction. “Don’t you blame Greg when you are the one throwing your stuff around
the room. It’s not our fault that you are utterly incompetent in keeping your things in order.”
He swayed a little on his feet and yawned widely, obviously not completely awake. “And
why the hell are you even making this ruckus? Some people would have loved to sleep a little
longer!”

Nott’s answer was muffled and cut off abruptly by him banging his head on the underside of
his bed, which he had crawled under to retrieve whatever had disappeared beneath.

“Serves you right,” Malfoy sneered and turned around to find Harry standing there. He
blinked blearily, then his eyes went wide and Harry could see how he tried to find an
appropriate reaction. But after a few moments, Malfoy merely shrugged and yawned.
“Morning, Potter. Please excuse Nott. He always shows his inadequate upbringing before
he’s had his first tea.” He then crawled under his blankets again, obviously set on ignoring
everything and everyone else.

Harry wasn’t sure how to react, instead choosing to say nothing and gather his bag and school
supplies, all while trying to hide a small grin. The Slytherins weren’t that different to the
Gryffindors while in the safety of their dorm.

Zabini, who had managed to put on his sock as well as some shoes, followed Harry out of the
room. “Don’t mind them - especially Theo and Draco. Theo is just this unorganized, foul-
mouthed and loud mess, especially before breakfast, and Draco… well... it takes a while for
him to completely wake up.”

Harry glanced at Zabini and couldn’t suppress his grin. “Do I even want to know how long
and what it takes to get Malfoy to transform into the slick and cold version that I’m used to?”

For a moment he regretted his choice of words, but then the other boy laughed lightly and
shrugged.

“Normally I don’t stay all that long in the dorm. It takes ages till he is awake enough to leave
his bed for good. And then begins the pampering, which takes ages and varies each year,
depending on what is in fashion in regard to hair, clothing, overall style, and so on. That just
now -” He gestured with his thumb back towards the dorm. “- was Draco awake for the
second time, perhaps even the third. He could at least form complete coherent sentences and
was somehow polite. A freshly woken Draco is no better than a newly born dragon, though
thankfully with fewer fangs and sparks flying around.”

Harry snickered, remembering Norberta – at that time still Norbert – just after the dragon had
hatched.

Harry’s amusement dissipated on the way to the Great Hall. The moment they stepped out of
the dungeons and met with other students, whispers followed him. Students sometimes
stopped and waited until they walked past, regarding him with suspicious looks. A line of
younger Ravenclaws hurried to form a tighter group as they caught sight of him.

Sighing, he sat down at the Slytherin table, determined to ignore them.

Breakfast was similar to the last few days. At one point, Nott appeared looking disgruntled,
and promptly began muttering something into his bowl of porridge. The last one to appear
was Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, and Harry marvelled at the difference between
this Malfoy and the one he had last seen in the dorm. He was perfectly groomed, with not one
hair out of place. His uniform robes looked freshly cleaned and pressed, and even his tie was
knotted to perfection.

Glancing down at himself, Harry saw that his own tie was slightly crooked; he never had
gotten the hang of it. Shrugging, he went back to his breakfast, ignoring the whispers and
glances from the other tables. He somewhat passively wondered what the biggest point of
gossip was - his sorting or whatever nonsense the Prophet had written.

Perhaps most of the school now really believed he was lying about what had happened at the
graveyard. He was a Slytherin now - a slimy and lying snake. Not that snakes were slimy; the
real ones, at least, were not.

“Don’t pay them any mind.” Greengrass settled across from him and filled her teacup. “Your
sorting will be yesterday’s news in a few days, especially now that classes are beginning.
Nobody knows what to expect from the new Defence teacher, after all.”

“Easy for you to say. I am pretty sure that most of them are assuming that I am a delusional
liar or crazy and dangerous, now that I’m…” Harry cut himself off.

“A Slytherin?” Greengrass sent him a crooked smile. “I know the reputation our house has,
and I did read the Prophet over the summer. It was very poorly done work on their part, if
you ask me. It’s disgusting to slander a teenager like that. Why didn’t you sue them?” She
looked at him in question.

Harry choked on a spoonful of porridge. “What?”

“You could sue them for slander. I assume they are using your name without your consent.”
She looked at him for affirmation and, after a wide-eyed and baffled Harry nodded,
continued. “I must say I’m surprised that you didn’t do this last year. Well, you are a minor
and normally such things are handled by our parents... but your guardians would certainly
allow you to contact a solicitor to handle that, right?”

Before Harry could formulate an answer, Snape approached their part of the table and started
handing out the timetables for their year. Harry groaned silently when he saw that they first
had double Transfiguration - only Slytherins - and then double Potions that day, which, as
always, was a combined Gryffindor/Slytherin class.

He wasn’t sure if he was prepared for his most hated class, which he would now get to see
from the perspective of the side that Snape always favoured. And how was Professor
McGonagall with the Slytherins? She was the Head of House Gryffindor, but Harry couldn’t
imagine the stern transfiguration teacher being as biased as Snape.

Someone clearing his throat made Harry realize that Snape hadn’t continued on down the
table and was instead standing behind him. He looked expectantly at him, inclined his head
at the table where a small potions vial was standing beside Harry’s breakfast bowl, and raised
an eyebrow. Apparently, Harry was really not to be trusted to take his potions by himself.

Sighing, he was acutely aware of many eyes on him, especially from his own table – did all
the Slytherins take childhood classes in observation without actually looking directly at
whoever they were studying? He downed the potion – nourishment, if he remembered
correctly – and washed the horrible taste down with a big gulp of his tea.

Snape nodded at him again and finally moved further down to distribute the timetables to the
fourth years. Avoiding all inquiring glances, Harry finished his breakfast and decided to make
his way early to their first class.

Hermione caught him at the entrance of the Great Hall, apparently having finished her
breakfast, as well.

“We have Potions class together,” she told him as they walked together out of the Great Hall.

“Just like every year, Gryffindors and Slytherins together. But for the first time I’m actually
not all that unhappy about it,” Harry said. “So at least I have some classes together with you.
We have Care of Magical Creatures this afternoon, too.”

“Did you see that Hagrid still isn’t back?” Hermione asked and they both quickly looked
back into the Great Hall to the teachers’ table.

“Yes. I wonder what he’s doing.”

Hermione sent him one of her ‘you-are-stupid’ looks. “He is doing something for the old
crowd - that’s obvious.” Then she glared at some Hufflepuffs in the entrance hall, who
formed a tight group while looking at Harry with frightened, wide eyes, whispering harshly.

“What do you have first?” she asked after the group hurried away.

“Transfiguration.”

Another group of students exited the Great Hall behind them. Harry saw Ron talking with
Neville and Dean, carefully not looking into his direction, and something squirmed in his
stomach. Suddenly, he had an armful of Hermione.

“Hermione?” Harry asked into her hair, surprised.

“I… I just worry about you, Harry, with everything that has happened and now…” She
released him and looked him into the eyes. “Now we’re not in the tower together and we
don’t have classes together and with the hostile environment towards you, I just…” She
huffed. “Be careful, Harry. I know that not all Slytherins are evil - you are a Slytherin, and
you are the best person I know. But still… be careful and take care of yourself. You are my
best friend and I know that you can look after yourself, but it seems like every time I’m not
there with you something terrible happens.”

Harry took her hands, which she was twisting in front of her, and smiled fondly at her. “You
are my best friend, too.” Her eyes softened at his words. “And I promise I will be careful and
try to stay out of trouble as best as I can.”

She nodded and squeezed his hands back. “See you in Potions.”

Harry nodded and watched as she followed the Gryffindors, wishing he could do the same.
Then he shouldered his bag and made his way to McGonagall’s classroom.

Professor McGonagall spent the first fifteen minutes of her lesson lecturing them about the
importance of their O.W.L.s.

“You cannot pass an O.W.L. without serious application, practice, and study. If you apply
yourself, I don’t see a reason you shouldn’t achieve an O.W.L. in Transfiguration,” she said
grimly. Crabbe, sitting beside Nott, and Goyle, next to Greengrass, only stared at her in what
Harry thought was disbelief... or else they were constipated. Harry wasn’t sure.

Harry was sitting in a seat in the last row, closest to the door. It was one of the only seats
where he wouldn’t be completely surrounded by his classmates. He had arrived shortly
before the other Slytherins and Professor McGonagall had nodded at him with a small uplift
of her lips, which was practically a big smile from her.

Zabini frowned as he entered the classroom and saw Harry’s seating choice, but he took the
seat beside him without comment or question. Harry let his gaze wander over the classroom.
It was so strange to see Malfoy’s blond head sitting before him with the dark bob of
Parkinson to the side, rather than Hermione’s wild curls or Ron’s red mob of hair.

“Today we shall start with Vanishing Spells. These are far easier than Conjuring Spells, but
they are still among the most difficult magic you will be tested on.” Professor McGonagall’s
voice cut through Harry’s thoughts, forcing him to concentrate on the lesson again.

She was her usual stern and strict self. She did not tolerate nonsense in her classroom and
Harry was glad to see that the Slytherins did at least respect her in her classroom. He was
also relieved that there didn’t seem to be major changes in her behaviour only because there
were Slytherins sitting before her instead of her own Gryffindors.

It was confusing how similar and, at the same time, different classes as a Slytherin were.

Professor McGonagall took points from Parkinson when she whispered to Malfoy beside her,
but she also gave points to Malfoy for managing to be the first one to vanish his practice
snail. However, he did notice that instead of getting one of the rare smiles accompanying the
points for the feat – as Hermione would often get – Professor McGonagall only nodded at
him and turned to Goyle and admonished him for exploding his snail instead of vanishing,
before working with him through the practical steps and the wand movement again. That
could have been Seamus, or Ron, and Professor McGonagall would have behaved the same.

Yes, the atmosphere in the classroom was different, but Harry was sure that was due to the
students and how they behaved; for the most part they were far more focused than what he
was used to. But he was relieved to not see unfair treatment from one of his favourite
professors and his former Head of House. He had always known that Professor McGonagall
was stern and strict, but she was also fair and kind, even if it was in a rather reserved manner.
Yes, she was competitive in Quidditch towards the other houses, but she also had
reprimanded Moody – or Crouch in disguise, rather – after turning Malfoy into a ferret.

“Miss Bulstrode, in which class are we now?” the professor’s voice cut through Harry’s
thoughts.

“Transfiguration,” Bulstrode answered her quietly.

“And why, pray tell, are you attempting to carve runes into your snail?”

Bulstrode shrugged. “Thought that I could vanish it this way.”

Professor McGonagall narrowed her eyes and Harry knew that look - hated that look, to be
more accurate. It was the ‘I-thought-better-of-you look,’ and he had seen it directed towards
him more than once.

“Miss Bulstrode, yes, it would be possible to vanish the snail while utilizing runes, but that is
perhaps something you should ask Professor Babbling. And no, I don’t want to discuss the
benefits of runes again. We have had this discussion at the beginning of every school year so
far.”

Bulstrode muttered something that was too quiet for Harry to understand, sighed, and picked
up her wand again. Professor McGonagall nodded and went to Davis next with a carefully
schooled expression - a look Harry also recognized. It was the one she normally had when
dealing with the twins.

“Now, Miss Davis, what did you do this time?” She sounded resigned.

Davis, who had twirled her wand above something on her table that Harry couldn’t see,
looked up and grinned.

“Oh, well, Professor... see, I tried the Vanishing Spell first, but I got distracted by the
formula, because - see, if you change this part...” She scribbled something on the parchment
before her. “... and then modify it here and here, you will get the exact same result but with
far less magical input needed. You could even easily change it to do the opposite. In other
words, you could accomplish vanishing and conjuring with the same formula. Why aren’t we
learning this?” Davis looked up at Professor McGonagall, who sighed.
 “Because, Miss Davis, what you did is N.E.W.T. level Transfiguration. You first have to learn
the basic and standard formula, which needs a little more magic, but not as much precision
and therefore has a little more room for mistakes. To actually perform the spell as you
suggest, you would need a profound and deep understanding of the formula, precise and
absolute control over your magic, and the experience to concentrate on the small differences
in the formula, all while keeping the original object and the desired outcome firmly in mind.”

“But I can do that.”

“Yes, but Miss Davis, but most of your classmates can’t yet. Everyone learns at their own
pace. So, as you have shown me that you understand the theory, please vanish your snail and
then you may modify the formula in any way you want for the rest of the lecture. But please -
no practical experiments before I have the chance to look over the changes.”

Somehow Harry was sure that this was not the first time Professor McGonagall gave Davis
this stipulation, and he was certain it wouldn’t be the first and last time that Davis ignored it.

He shook his head, wondering what Hermione would make of his new housemate. The
thought of what Hermione and Davis could do together made him unsure if it would be a
good idea or a disastrous idea to introduce them to each other.

A loud bang followed by smoke made McGonagall rush through the classroom and Harry
concentrated on his own snail again. He could almost forget that there were green ties
surrounding him instead of red, which made it all the more confusing when he looked up and
Zabini sent him a grin instead of Ron.

Everything was different while very much the same. It was disconcerting and made him feel
unsettled.

And the next class was Potions.

With the Gryffindors.

Chapter End Notes

AN: Thanks for reading. Let me know what you think.

First published: 18th of March 2021

 Potions
Chapter Notes

Disclaimer: Nothing in the Harry Potter universe is mine.

AN: So, finally, the next chapter. I am immensely sorry that it took me so long and I am
beyond grateful for all your patience. Circumstance as they are, I am not sure when the
next one will be out. Life is a demanding b**** and doesn't let me slouch lazily at
home, writing fanfiction.

And, of course, a huge thank you to all of you who are subscribing, bookmarking and
commenting.

I hope wherever you are, you and your loved ones are healthy and safe. Don't let the
Muggles get to you.

This is unbeta'ed, so all mistakes are my own.

Have fun reading.

On with the story.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Harry wanted to rush out of the classroom the moment transfiguration was over, hoping to
catch Hermione on her way to the dungeons. Not having classes with the Gryffindor, just
made it clearer to him how much he missed her. It wasn’t the same just seeing her outside of
class.

But McGonagall called him to the front.

“Mr Potter, I wanted to personally tell you that Mr McLaggen and his friends are thoroughly
punished for what they did on the weekend. I’m horrified and ashamed that a Gryffindor
would behave like that - and especially towards a former house member.” She told him with a
grim expression.

Harry just nodded, not knowing what else he should say. He thought McLaggen wasn’t the
only one thinking that Harry was a liar and a traitor, and he was sure this wouldn’t be the last
confrontation.

The opinion of the general Hogwarts public was fickle and turned against him every year.
Everyone seemed to have an opinion about who he was, his character and his behaviour and
if something happened that didn’t fit into their view, well… Harry remembered the last year
and second year vividly.
He could tell by her pinched expression that the professor was aware of this. She regarded
him for a moment longer before her gaze became inquiring.

Harry suppressed the urge to fidget under her gaze and sighed, he knew what she would ask
before she spoke.

“And how is Slytherin treating you, Mr Potter?”

“Fine…” Harry mumbled.

Professor McGonagall looked like she wanted to say more, but she hesitated and her eyes
softened instead. “My door is always open, Mr Potter.”

Harry nodded again, it was nice to hear, but Harry also knew himself well enough and
therefore it was unlikely that he would ever take her up on the offer. He tried to remember if
he ever had tried to go to her with a problem after the debacle that was the end of his first
year, but couldn’t remember.

“Thank you, Professor.” Leaving the classroom, he discovered that not only somehow a
snack box had found its way into his bag – sneaky house-elves - but also that Zabini, Malfoy,
Nott and surprisingly Parkinson, had waited for him.

Zabini leaned against the wall across from the classroom door and sent him a questioning
look. “Did Professor McGonagall try to convince you that she has an elaborate but
unsuccessful plan to get you back into Gryffindor?”

Harry just stared for a moment before he shook his head.

Why should she? The hat had made its decision and there was apparently no reversing it (and
he certainly didn’t want to relive the circumstances from the summer).

“Just as well, now that we have you, we are not giving you back.” He winked at Harry. “The
moment we sink our fangs into someone – metaphorically speaking naturally” He grinned,
wide and with a lot of teeth” – we are never going to let go again.”

Deciding that he wouldn’t even try to decipher what Zabini was implying – and the other
Slytherins, because they all nodded and grinned, too – Harry trailed behind a bickering
Malfoy and Parkinson, nibbling on an apple slice.

As in the morning, stares and whispers followed him as they walked down to the dungeons. It
was only the first day of class, he hoped - really really hoped - that it would get better, that
the majority of the school's habitants would get used to him being in Slytherin.

The Gryffindor’s were already standing in the hallway in front of Snape’s classroom as they
arrived, as were the other Slytherins.

“How was Transfiguration?” Hermione appeared beside him, but before Harry could answer
the classroom door opened with its usual ominous creak.
Hermione squeezed his arm shortly and Harry, after steeling himself, followed her into the
classroom. Harry moved automatically to their usual table at the back, which was already
occupied by Ron. He was not looking in Harry’s direction, but his body language was loud
and clear; his back rigid and his shoulder hunched.

For a moment Harry stood stock still, not knowing what to do.

“Mr Potter, do you need a special invitation?” Snape’s voice cut through his paralysis. He
looked expectantly at Harry with a raised eyebrow and pointed slightly to the front, where a
seat was unoccupied next to Zabini. The gesture was unmistakable, there was no way Harry
would be sitting with Hermione or any other Gryffindor.

Sighing, Harry sat down where Snape had indicated, which put him in the first row, directly
in front of Snape’s desk, the whole class behind him. The Slytherins had, as always, settled
down at the tables in the front rows, whereas the Gryffindors were sitting in the back of the
room.

“Before we begin today’s lesson”, Snape said, staring around at them, “I think it appropriate
to remind you that next June you will be sitting an important examination.”

What followed was essentially the same speech about O.W.L.s McGonagall had already
given them, but in typical Snape manner.

“Moronic though some of this class undoubtedly are, I expect you to scrape an ‘Acceptable’
or suffer my … displeasure.” His gaze stopped on something – or someone – behind Harry,
who risked a glance back and saw Neville hunching into himself and his never-far-away
anger rose in him.

He glared at Snape, who didn’t even look into his direction.

What right had Snape to torment Neville? The other boy never had done anything to anger
the man, apart from failing his class. Had Snape ever shown interest in seeing his students
thrive - which he never had so far - Harry would understand his irritation.

He did understand to a certain degree the hate the man had for Harry. He wasn’t blind to his
tendency to disregard rules and he certainly had antagonized the man more than once in the
last four years. Harry never had hidden that he had no respect for Snape, or most authority
figures actually.

But Neville?

Harry clenched his hands into tight fists, driving his blunt nails into the soft skin on the
inside, the slight sting a welcome distraction from his rising temper.

Taking a deep breath Harry wrestled his emotions under control. Where was this anger
coming from?

Yes, he had a temper. Harry knew this. It had more than once caused him trouble, especially
with authority figures.
But this – this hot, burning, seemingly endless and ever-present well of rage?

It was unfamiliar but familiar at the same time and totally confused him.

Biting the inside of his cheek, Harry tried to concentrate on Snape.

“After this year, many of you will cease studying with me. I take only the best into my
N.E.W.T. Potions class. Therefore, some of us will certainly be saying goodbye.” Snape gaze
went over the class again, settling briefly on different students. The way Snape was
deliberately not looking at Harry at all was telling.

The thought of being able to give up Potions after fifth year, and therefore reducing his
exposure to Snape, left Harry with a grim pleasure. No way would he voluntarily take two
more years of Potions.

Finishing his speech, Snape set them on brewing the Draught of Peace for today’s lecture.
And while listening to Snape’s explanation and reading the instructions on the board, Harry
knew that this was bound to be an absolute catastrophe. Snape couldn’t have set them to brew
a more difficult, fiddly potion.

Sighing, Harry looked over the ingredients, but before he could even get up from his seat,
Zabini was placing double the amount needed for one potion in the middle of their desk.

He shrugged when he saw Harry stare at him. “Why should we both go.” Then he sorted his
ingredients and started preparing them.

Still a little baffled, Harry briefly glanced around. Everyone was concentrating on their
ingredients, even Goyle and Crabbe. Sighing, and hoping that, perhaps for the first time, he
wouldn’t have to fear someone throwing something in his cauldron, Harry picked up his knife
and started to cut the roots in front of him in even slides. Harry lost himself in cutting, dicing
and overall preparing the ingredients before him.

A sharp sound beside him made him nearly jump out of his seat. Zabini, who had brought his
knife down a little hard, sent him a questioning glance, before resuming cutting.

Harry let out a steady breath and went on cutting his own ingredients, while trying to ignore
the dark figure of the professor making his usual rounds around the room. Normally Harry
would have been able to keep track of the professor.

The feeling of Snape somewhere behind him in the classroom – making cold remarks about
someone’s cutting techniques – Harry didn’t like at all .

And with the Slytherins on all sides, he felt a little caged in.

Yes, the weekend had been fine, but Harry still did feel the tension in the air and in his new
house. He was sure that at one point something would be happening, they were just waiting,
observing, planning, Harry was sure of it. Waiting for the excitement around his sorting to go
down.
It didn’t mean that he thought that the moment everything was a little quieter the guys in his
dorm would turn on him or something. But Harry still was unable to relax and put his guard
down. It was the same feeling he had in the summers at Privet Drive. He had never felt really
at ease with the Dursleys, especially not since coming back from his first year at Hogwarts,
not even since they left him alone in fear of his mass-murderer of a godfather. The obvious
dislike and apprehension always were palpable.

A hiss from his potion and a glance from Zabini brought Harry back to where he was.

Trying to relax his tense shoulders, Harry concentrated on his potion again. The ingredients
needed to be added in precisely the right order and quantities; it needed to be first stirred
clockwise, then anticlockwise in exactly the right number of times. At the end the heat of the
flames needed to be lowered to exactly the right level for a specific number of minutes – not
more or less – before adding the final ingredient.

Harry disliked such precise and meticulous work – he didn’t have the patience for it - and he
wasn’t surprised that, when Snape called out to them that there should be a light silver vapour
rising from their potion now, his was issuing copious amounts of dark grey steam. Sweating
profoundly Harry prodded the flames under his cauldron with his wand to change them to the
required temperature. Zabini had his side, looking a little stressed himself, did the same, but
at least his potion was a little silvery instead of grey.

Harry tensed as Snape started in the front row, nodding as he looked into Zabini’s cauldron
and stopped at Harry’s. Refusing to look directly at the professor, Harry still saw the slightly
pinched expression, the lips pressed together tightly that they nearly formed one straight
white line.

“Potter, what is this supposed to be?” Snape asked in a flat voice. Harry knew that voice.
That was the voice Snape was using when he was on the edge of ridiculing and belittling
Harry, when he was preparing himself, normally with a certain amount of pleasure, for
cutting his least favourite student down.

From the corner of his eye, Harry saw Zabini frowning and sitting up a little straighter at
those words. The classroom was dead silent, only the occasional hiss and bubble from a
potion was heard. Sweat trickled down Harry’s back. That was it, Snape would finally show
that nothing was different. The enmity between Harry and Snape had been absolute from the
moment Harry had set foot in Hogwarts, now being a Slytherin wouldn’t change that –
couldn’t change that.

“The Draught of Peace,” Harry answered.

“Tell me, Potter,” Snape continued softly, “what does the third line of the instruction say? I’m
assuming that you are proficient in reading.”

Someone behind him snickered. Harry’s stomach clenched painfully, that had sounded like it
was coming from the Gryffindors.

He clenched his fingers tightly around his wand and squinted at the blackboard, which was
not easy to make out through the haze now filling the dungeon. His heart sank.
“I forgot the hellebore.”

“Obviously.” Snape’s gaze narrowed and after a few seconds continued. “Next time, I advise
you to read the whole instructions, if you possess the ability, and not skip parts of it. As it is,
this potion is worthless.”

For a moment Harry thought the man would vanish his potion, as he had done so many times
before. It would mean that Harry wouldn’t have a sample vial to hand in, and that would have
meant no mark for him for the whole lecture.

Harry was sure he saw Snape’s finger twitch.

But he only glared shortly at Harry again, before stepping back from Harry’s cauldron and
continued on his round through the classroom without another comment.

That was…

What?

That was it? No shredding Harry to pieces? No further taunting that he couldn’t even read the
instructions correctly sitting in the front row? No threats or comments he wasn’t worth the
house emblem on his robes? Nothing?

Harry felt… he didn’t know how he felt, didn’t know what to make of the whole situation,
but it seemed that Snape’s wish to not sabotage his own house won over his hatred of
everything Potter.

How unexpected.

For a few moments Harry just stood there, then he slumped down onto his seat and stuffed
his wand back into his pocket. He wasn’t sure if he actually wished that Snape had vanished
his potion, but that would have been normal, would have been expected in a way and Harry
had counted on something to be unchanged.

He wasn’t sure what he should think about this Snape and that made him uncertain. Uncertain
what he should - could - expect from the professor. And Harry hated feeling uncertain, hated
not being able to predict adult behaviour.

The smell of rotten eggs came from somewhere behind him, Harry couldn’t determine from
which cauldron it came without turning around.

By the scalding remarks from Snape about idiotic Gryffindors and stupid Weasleys in
particular, it was Ron. Harry didn’t dare to turn around to see how his friend reacted. It didn’t
sound like he was flying off the handle and Snape only took twenty points from Gryffindor.

“Those of you who managed to brew something not deadly, fill one flagon with a sample,
label it clearly with your name and bring it up to my desk for testing.” Snape addressed them
all. “For homework, write twelve inches of parchment on the properties of moonstone and its
uses in potion-making, to be handed in on Thursday.”
With a sigh Harry filled a flagon. At least his potion wasn’t the worst potion today.

Still feeling unsettled when the ball rang, Harry made his way to lunch. That had been
strange and perhaps the friendliest Snape ever had been to him, he hadn’t even been mean,
hadn’t really ridiculed him.

He was so in thought, that he didn’t realize Hermione walking beside him, till she spoke.

“That was… different.”

“Yes, it was.”

“He was – okay not friendly – but even I can admit that Snape had been carefully neutral
instead of his usual self with you. Do you think that is because he is your Head of House now
or because he…” she carefully looked around to be sure that nobody was listening, “he is in
the Order and everything?”

Harry sighed, and realized he did that rather excessively since being back at Hogwarts. “I
have no clue, but I would say mostly because he doesn’t want to damage his own House.
They have this whole ‘your house is your family’ and ‘Slytherins look after their own’ going
on. Apparently if your behaviour warrants a punishment it isn’t done in public, or something
like this. I’m sure I will find out sooner than later.”

Hermione did send him one of her looks.

“Hey, you know how it is.” Harry defended himself. “Snape will find something to punish me
for. I don’t believe one second that this will change only because I’m a Slytherin now. The
only thing that changed is that he can now punish me how he sees fit, without the whole
school knowing.” Harry shuddered.

That actually sounded worse.

“Let’s wait and see.” Hermione just sighed and patted his arm. “What do you have in the
afternoon?”

“First History and then Herbology with the Ravenclaws.”

“Let’s meet in the library afterwards.”

“Sure.” With a longing look at the Gryffindor table, Harry made his way across the Hall.
Most of his classmates were already there, and Harry took the empty seat between Nott and
Zabini. He knew he should be hungry and the food appearing before him looked appetizing,
but he couldn’t bring himself to eat. Pushing the food from one side of the plate to the other
Harry ignored the conversations around him, his thoughts circling around Snape and potions
class.

Nothing made sense anymore.

Somehow everything had been easier last year, when he only had to try to survive dragons
and Grindylows, Acromantulas and Blast-Ended Screwts, when he had the feeling that
everything and everyone wanted to kill him.

Harry felt unsettled for the rest of the day. After an uneventful lunch, he struggled to stay
awake in History of Magic, Professor Binn’s dull voice and the little sleep he had in the last
nights didn’t help in his attempt to stay awake.

Thankfully he was not the only one and the Slytherin’s looked equally bored.

Zabini, who was sitting next to Harry again, was drawing something on his parchment.
Malfoy, sitting in front of him, was definitely sleeping, as was Nott. Davis was scribbling
Merlin-knew-what and what Bulstrode was doing with one of the snails from Transfiguration,
Harry didn’t want to know.

The only one Harry thought was listening to the ghost, was Greengrass. She had the same
expression on her face as Hermione had in history, determination to stay awake and learn
something. How they did that was beyond him.

Despite his chaotic thoughts and trying to make sense of Snape, the Slytherins and the whole
situation, despite the unsettling feelings, which made his stomach clench, he fell asleep.

Someone poking him woke him up.

“Lesson is finished.” Zabini mumbled, stretched and looked expectantly at Harry. He looked
unfairly rested, while Harry, despite sleeping for most of the lecture, felt like something a
Hippogriff dragged in.

Harry rubbed his eyes, nearly knocking his glasses from his nose, and looked to the front.
Binn’s was still droning on, which didn’t mean anything. Grabbing his bag, he followed the
rest of the class, only remembering that they had herbology next, when he found himself
outside and walking the greenhouses. Zabini held a monologue beside him the whole time,
seemingly not bothered that Harry didn’t contribute one word.

The fresh air helped a little to dissipate the fog of tiredness and by the time they settled on the
workbenches, Zabini again beside him, which didn’t surprise Harry anymore, he felt better. A
little more awake.

They had Herbology with the Ravenclaws. It wasn’t his favourite class but he liked it well
enough and he liked Professor Sprout, so he was more than happy to ignore some of the
stares and concentrate on the lesson.

To nobody’s surprise, Professor Sprout began the lesson by lecturing them about the
importance of O.W.L.s. Harry sighed while listening, if the trend continued, they would hear
a variation of this from all the teachers throughout the whole week. If they wanted them to
get anxious and stressed, they certainly succeeded with Harry. Thinking about the homework
Snape and McGonagall had given them today, he feared they would be neck deep till
tomorrow evening.

When Professor Sprout also gave them a long essay to write at the end of the class, Harry’s
stomach felt completely twisted. And he didn’t even have Hermione to give him pointers, the
Gryffindors had Herbology tomorrow and who knew if Professor Sprout would give them the
same homework.

Tired and smelling strongly of dragon dung, Professor Sprouts preferred fertiliser, the
Ravenclaws and Slytherins made their way back to the castle. Harry found himself in the
middle of his housemates, Zabini again chatting without any real input from Harry.
Registering the hostile stares from some of the Ravenclaws – Harry’s relationship with the
Patil sisters had turned sour after the Yule ball, but Padma had never glared that murderous at
him – he felt a little thankful towards Malfoy and the others. He wasn’t sure if it had
happened intentionally, but he relaxed, nonetheless. At least like this, no one could just come
up to him.

When they walked through the castle entrance, Harry tried to leave the group to go to the
Library, but Zabini grabbing his arm stopped him.

“Granger certainly wouldn’t have a problem with waiting because you took a shower.”

Realising that the others had stopped with him Harry turned to Zabini, who grinned at him.
“I’m sure she would actually prefer it if you wouldn’t go to the library immediately. You have
dragon dung in your hair.”

Harry hurried into the library, relieved to see that Hermione was still sitting on their usual
table. Her head came up from behind the massive book she had probed against a huge stack
of books in front of her, when Harry practically fell into the chair beside her.

Her gaze sharpened and then smiled. “Dragon Dung?” She commented with a gesture to his
still tripping hair.

Harry nodded. “What’s all this?” He gestured to the huge amount of books occupying the
table.

“Research”.

He rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

A smack to his arm made him laugh. “Don’t get smart with me, Harry Potter.”

Holding his hand up in surrender Harry eyed the book Hermione had opened before her
critically. “So, what’s up with this? Why are you reading about the employment laws of
Hogwarts?”
Hermione’s expression turned furious. “Because this foul woman won’t teach us anything in
Defence.”

“What?”

“That terrible woman had us read from the book and said that we won’t try any actual spells
during class. How can Dumbledore have let this happen? How can he let that woman teach
us? And in our O.W.L. year, too!”

“She… what?”

“She refuses to let us do magic during class and when we asked, she said that with a firm
understanding of the theory we will be able to cast the spell successfully for the first time at
our examinations.” Hermione whispered furiously.

“Well, we never had great Defence against the Dark Arts teacher, have we?” Harry said. “You
know what it’s like, nobody wants the job, they say it’s jinxed.”

“Yes, but to employ someone who’s actually refusing to let us do magic? She said that there
is no reason why we should need to defend ourselves, as we are in school and perfectly safe.”
Hermione spat out disgustingly. “As if the troll in first year or the basilisk in second year or
detentions in the Dark Forest never happened. And she actually wants us to spy for her.”

“What?”

“Yes, she told us that she wants us to come to her and tell her if we hear anyone saying You-
Know-Who is back.”

Harry felt like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water over him. “What?” He croaked out.

“Yes! It is clear that the ministry doesn’t want to believe that You-Know-Who is back and
Umbridge is here on Fudge’s order to spy on all of us but especially on Dumbledore.”

“And me.”

Hermione’s gaze focused on him and her eyes softened. “Yes, and you.”

“And why are you now reading that book?” He didn’t want to think what Umbridge being
here meant for him. Didn’t want to think that he would have Defence the next morning.

“I don’t want to wait for the curse of the Defence position to get rid of Umbridge for us. I’m
reading up if there is a faster and legal way of getting her out of Hogwarts and perhaps smear
her reputation forever.”

Harry stared at her.

“If needed I will even use our favourite little beetle. She will definitely find something or
make something up. I want Umbridge to be unable to ever show her face in public again.”
 “That’s… ” He wasn’t sure what exactly that was, but Hermione was only half listening to
him.

“I know and if that doesn’t function there is still the Chamber of Secrets.” She smiled at him,
all teeth and a dangerous glint in her eyes. “Nobody, who isn’t a Parselmouth, could ever find
her body there and I don’t think that Voldemort would care - or even notice - if he would
visit the Chamber again, which is unlikely for the foreseeable future.”

“You are scary Hermione, brilliant but scary.”

“Obviously.” And with that Hermione dove behind her book again.

If he didn’t know her as well as he did he certainly would be afraid of her, as it was he was in
awe - and a little afraid.

And he knew that if she ever aspired to be a Dark Lady, she would kick Voldemort’s ass and
take over the world before afternoon tea and then she would put the world to order with logic,
determination and so efficiently that they wouldn’t know what hit them. And Harry would
follow her, loyally.

But for the moment she was just his utterly brilliant and fierce best friend. And she had a
grudge, nobody prevented Hermione Granger from learning. Umbridge wouldn’t have a
chance.

Chapter End Notes

AN: I tried to stay as close as canon regarding how the potions class proceeded, which
funny enough made it harder to write. I hope you like it. Thanks for reading. Let me
know what you think.

First published: 20th of September 2021

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