The Sorting Hat was half right. The dungeons were dark, and small, and, from what Harry saw on the way down to the Slytherin dormitories, seemed the sort of place to house a great many cubby holes and hiding spots. But Harry had never been more on his guard in his life.

He had spent the majority of the dinner scowling at his plate and watching the other boys carefully. The arrogant blonde sot that had sat next to him became his unwitting food-tester—he ate only from the dishes that boy ate from. He kept a hand on his wand the entire time, and he simply answered in monosyllables every time someone spoke to him. Not many people spoke to him. The blonde boy just stared at him scrutinizingly when he thought Harry wasn’t looking, and the thin, weedy boy had smiled and shook his hand. “Teddy Nott,” he had said. “Brilliant to meet you.”

He’d gone through the meal rather well, until the blonde boy had stopped staring at him and was instead conversing with his friends.

“—Father says Snape’s the best potions master Hogwarts has ever had, but he’s also supposed to be a good head of house—“

Harry jerked as if someone had hit him. “Head of House? Snape?”

The boy looked at him as if he were an interesting but particularly foul insect. “Who’d you expect, McGonnagal?” The two fat boys that reminded him of Dudley sniggered.

“He—he’s the Head of Slytherin? Snape?”

The boy rolled his eyes. “What are you, thick? I just said that!”

Harry had lost his appetite at around that point.

The dormitories were dark and forbidding, with tall four poster beds and dark green sheets. The walls were stone, and Harry found a trunk at the end of his bed. He wondered if he should put his wand in there, but decided not to and put it under his pillow while he pulled on his pajamas. The other boys were all joking around with each other—Zabini and Nott were tossing pillows at each other, while pompous sot Malfoy ordered the lumps, Crabbe and Goyle, to unpack his trunk. Harry sat on his bed in his pajamas, the curtains closed, reading about locking charms.

The other boys waited a bit, until they thought he was asleep, then they started to whisper about him.

“—never thought he’d be—“

“Harry Potter, in the next bed over! Wait til I tell Pip, he’ll burst with envy!” That sounded like Teddy, Harry thought.

“Seems awful quiet,” one of the fat boys grunted.

“Yeah, quiet,” the other one added.

“Who cares if he’s quiet? He’s Harry Potter!” Teddy again.

“He’s a half-blood,” he heard one boy sneer. “Mama says I’m not to associate with anyone whose family hasn’t made at least the Book of Bronze.” Harry thought it might be the black boy with the slanted eyes from dinner. He had sneered at Harry the whole time.

“Potter’s are the fourth name in the book of Gold, though,” Teddy argued.

“Father told me to keep a look on him.” That was Malfoy’s voice, Harry knew, and he held his wand in a tight grip. “Report anything funny to him.”

“Ooh, Draco’s daddy’s little—“

“Shut up, Zabini! Least I have a father!”

“You shut up, Malfoy! Who cares about your stupid little—“

“Be quiet, I’m trying to sleep!” That was Teddy, sounding aggravated.

“Weren’t trying to sleep a minute ago, were you, Nott?”

“Well, a minute ago we weren’t fighting over rubbish, were we, Malfoy? Now, shut it. I’m dead tired, and Pip says—“

“Your stupid cousin—“

“Pip’s wicked! Now I won’t tell you what he said about our meeting with Snape, so there.”

“—Oh, Nott—“

“Tell us, Teddy, come on,” one of the fat boys wheedled. Harry could tell it was them because their voices sounded like they were muffled by all the blubber over their lungs.

“Well, Pip says he gets us up wicked early and gives us a talk.”

“About what?”

“This and that. House pride, and detentions, and rules. Things like that.”

There was a silence, and the black boy said “Mama likes for me to be asleep by now.”

One of the boys sniggered. “You and your mama, Blaise—“

“Let’s go to bed.”

“G’night.”

“Good night.”

Harry stayed awake a long time, until he was able to lock his curtains shut. Tired out, he fell asleep almost immediately afterwards, and only woke up the very late that night or very early that morning to the noise of frightening footsteps.

Snape.

He lay terribly still, his hand clutching his wand under his pillow, and he felt Snape tug the curtains apart and stare down at him. He kept his breathing steady, comforted himself with the memory of the satisfying crunch of Snape’s nose, and, when Snape finally wrenched the curtains closed and stormed away, Harry felt himself start to shiver.

He didn’t go back to sleep that night.

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Severus always liked his start of term speech to the Slytherin first years. It was a chance to assess character, a chance to establish himself as the top of the pecking order. His first real wielding of power over the new children.

The fact that Potter was in this class made it a little sweeter.

Severus didn’t know how the boy had made Slytherin, and his interest was spiked. He had spent the first hour back at his room throwing potions ingredients at the wall, but after that he had stepped back and assessed the situation.

Potter was at his disposal, under his control. Sleeping in the Slytherin dormitories, where Snape had carte blanche authority. Alienated from those who had already confronted him about his behavior that summer. McGonnagal would avoid the boy at all costs, now, and Poppy, though a Slytherin, rarely ventured into Severus’ territory without his permission.

He could do what he wanted, now, with Potter under his thumb.

He had been brimming over with anger, though, until he realized that, and had stormed into the first year dorm with intent to do—something. Something bad. Luckily, he’d realized the benefits before he harmed the boy, and he’d retreated without touching a hair on perfect Potter’s head.

When he entered the room, he wondered which one was Potter’s before noticing there was only one bed with the curtains drawn. Theodore Nott was sprawled facedown in his bed, while Blaise Zabini and Draco Malfoy were almost arranged in the proper sleeping position. Crabbe and Goyle were large, indeterminate lumps under the blankets, which left the bed closest to the wall, with the curtains drawn, to be Potter’s.

He’d pulled them apart, noticing there was a light resistance, and looked at the boy. He was curled into a ball, his hand a tight fist, the other under his pillow, and the boy looked so damn arrogant ever in his sleep that Severus wanted nothing more than to lift him from the bed and toss him bodily to the floor. He restrained himself, though, and the next time he saw the boy was when the first years gathered in the common room.

Terrence Higgs, smirking, had led the boys to the common room, while Padria Burke had led the girls. Nott and Potter were the most alert of the boys, Potter gripping his wand and looking uneasily over the room before settling his eyes on Snape, and for the girls Bulstrode was looking around curiously.

Snape cleared his throat and sneered.

“You are here,” he began, “Because you have been Sorted into Slytherin House. Do any of you know what that means?”

Dim Goyle and Crabbe looked relieved at the easiness of the question. Malfoy looked arrogant, as did Blaise Zabini, Pansy Parkinson, and Millicent Bullstrode. Teddy Nott was looking at Snape, a calculating glint in his eye, and there was no look on Potter’s face at all.

He launched into his usual talk about House pride and unity, how they had to stick together, because no one else would stick by them. He then started on the part of the speech he personally enjoyed the most—rules.

“As a part of Slytherin House, you will be expected to act accordingly. Ignorance—“ he let his eyes linger on Potter and the Lumps, “—will not be tolerated. Neither will stupidity. I do not care if your family is number one in the Book of Gold, you’ll do your work and you’ll do it to my satisfaction or I’ll rip it to shreds. I take a tough stance on rule breaking. If you lose points, you will receive a detention. If you receive a detention with another teacher, you will likewise receive one with me. If—“ here Snape looked icy and cold and he saw Potter give a little shiver and he almost smiled and ruined it all, “If I have any cause to be displeased with you—you shall know it very quickly, and I can assure you, you will not enjoy it.”

He could see each and every one of them gulp when he said that.

“Potter!” he barked, and the boy flinched violently before steeling himself in the mans gaze. He could see the boys fingers clench on his wand, so tight the knuckles turned white, and he snarled and leaned in. “Detention.”

The boy’s jaw clenched, and the rest of the group almost subconciously leaned away from the boy. He didn’t even answer—just nodded his head and fastened his gaze on the floor. Snape sneered and let his hand drift to his wand before remembering where he was. The children looked confused, except for Malfoy, who was beaming, and Nott, who had that same calculating look on his face. The man leaned back and finished his speech.

“You may think that you are in Slytherin House because you have a wealthy father, or an influential family, or—“ here he sneered at Potter again, “—some sort of celebrity. And I am here to tell you that, if that’s the only reason the Hat put you here, you will fail. And you will fail quickly. Because this is not the slacker’s house, or the layabout’s house. You will do your best—or there will be consequences.”

Leaving them to contemplate those consequences, he spun on his heel and left the room, already thinking of wonderful things to do to Potter during detention.

The boys trudged back to their dorm in a tired sort of silence, until Teddy got a look at the clock and gave a groan.

“It’s magicking five thirty,” he said, and he threw himself face first onto his bed. “Breakfast doesn’t even open ‘til quarter to seven. What a horrid way to start the year—tired.” He yawned, then got under the covers of his bed.

“What are you doing?” grunted the paler-haired lump—Goyle, Harry thought.

“What’s it look like? Getting a little extra sleep, of course.”

Malfoy sneered and started to gather up his tolietries. “I’m taking a shower. I don’t intend to—“ here he stuck his nose in the air and sniffed disdainfully, “—lay about and get a detention from Professor Snape.” He marched purposefully out of the room and to the washroom, and the lumps followed him. Blaise gave Teddy a frown, then gathered his own things and left harry and Teddy alone in the dormitory.

Harry lay down on his bed and tried to sleep a little as well.

“What, aren’t you going with them?” Teddy asked without opening his eyes. Harry frowned and pulled a pillow over his head. He was tired. He needed at least a little rest before classes. Though he supposed it could hardly be worse than the talk he’d just experienced.

“Well? Are you?”

Harry pulled the pillow from his head and glared. “Obviously not, if I’m not headed to the bathroom.”

“Why not?”

“I’m tired. Besides, I looked in the washroom yesterday. There’s only four showers there, so I wouldn’t be able to shower now any way. Now, will you be quiet, I’m zonked.”

Teddy didn’t seem to be in the mood to be quiet. “Rotten of Snape, to give you a detention right off the bat. Unfair.”

Harry shrugged. His life thus far had never made such distinctions as ‘fair’ or ‘unfair’. It was what you got punished for and what you didn’t. Sure, it was unfair that Dudley had two bedrooms and second helpings while Harry had the cupboard and burned black toast. But labeling it as such certaintly wouldn’t help the situation.

Nott persisted. “My cousin Pip, he’s Head Boy. Phillip Gibbon, really, but we all call him Pip. I bet if we told him, he could tell Dumbledore and get Snape in trouble.”

Harry looked at the boy, who looked back with a neutral mask. “Wouldn’t that get him in trouble with Snape?”

Teddy shrugged. “Nah, he’s a Ravenclaw.” His eyes watched Harry’s face. “So? D’you want to? We could probably catch him now, he’s always been a disgustingly early riser.”

Harry shook his head. “I can handle it on my own, thanks.”

This had apparenly been the right thing to say, because Teddy gave Harry a smile and yawned. “You’re all right then, Potter,” he said, then pulled the covers over his head and promptly fell back asleep.

Harry lay there until there was a free shower, wondering what he’d landed himself into.

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The first week passed extremely quickly for Harry. Malfoy’s group, mainly him and the Lumps, tended to ignore him, though Malfoy watched him at meals and in classes. Zabini didn’t seem to like anyone and spent quite a lot of his time with Daphne Greengrass and Tracey Davis. He always nitpicked about the neatness of the room and proper manners so that Harry thought he would scream. Harry took great pleasure in leaving crumpled bits of parchment on the floor and spilling ink on the carpet to see Zabini’s reaction.

Teddy was the only one he could stand, on most days, and even then it was a slow thing. Harry supposed it was because they both hated Zabini’s prissy attitude, and Nott disliked Malfoy from a childhood spat he would not talk about. So the two found themselves together quite a lot, partnering up in classes that needed partners and sitting together at the breakfast table. However, other than that brief contact, Harry was alone. And he much prefered it that way.

He tried to avoid Snape as much as possible, but with the man as his head of house, that was nearly impossible. Snape seemed to always know where Harry was and what he was doing, and by the morning of his first Friday at Hogwarts he had three separate detentions to serve the next day for loitering, failure to take care with his appearance, and sloth. Harry didn’t quite understand how he had gotten a detention for sloth when he had been walking to the lavatory, but he didn’t say a word and accepted it.

He wanted to get back to the Dursleys, yes, but he wasn’t an idiot. This was Snape’s domain, this world of magic, and Harry couldn’t do anything until he had a proper bit of power and an idea of what to do. So he waited, and studied, and bided his time and prided himself on not losing his temper, not jumping Snape, and for finding out where the kitchens were so he could double check his food.

The morning of his first Friday started out rather the same as the other mornings he’d had thus far. He woke up, got his wand, took a shower, and then headed to breakfast. Lately, he had taken to being quietly agreeable most of the time, so he remained quietly agreeable as he picked at his food. He didn’t know if Snape would ever try drugging him again, but he couldn’t take the risk. That was the only problem with being quick out of the dorm—Teddy relished sleep more than anything, except possibly books and his cousin Pip, and rarely made it in time for anything more than a bite of toast, and the other students never got to the table as soon as Harry. So he was left sitting there, staring mournfully at the food, wondering if it was safe and, if it wasn’t, what harm it could do to just have one little pancake—

But he never took the chance. He had always been thin, of course, but he didn’t gain one pound the entire first term at Hogwarts. He was lucky, he thought idly as he opened his potions book. If the Dursleys had fed him regularly, he would have been even hungrier. But his stomach was small even at the best of times, and kept on getting smaller.

He was planning his escape still. That was one thing he decided he would never give up on—escape. And even if he found out escaping the school was impossible, he would never be won over by how beautiful it was, or how great Hogwarts felt. Because it wasn’t his choice to be there, and it never would be.

He wondered, sometimes, why he was so eager to return to his life at the Dursleys. He didn’t have a bed there as nice as his in the Slytherin dorms, and he didn’t have any chores to do. The work wasn’t difficult, schoolwise, and other than Snape no one seemed to openly hate him. But that was the key word, wasn’t it, seem. Because everything seemed to be something it could not be and nothing felt real, or safe, and Harry knew that, even if his bed were silver and the food was safe to eat, he would trade it all, magic and everything, to be back in his cupboard and to know which way things lay.

As he thought these thoughts and skimmed over the potions chapter, a hand touched his shoulder and he immediately panicked. He was out of his seat and about to jump over the table before the hand clamped down and shoved him back in his seat.

Teddy Nott gave him a cheeky, sleepy grin and fell into the seat next to him. “Jumpy as a cat, aren’t you, Potter?”

“And as common as one,” Zabini added disdainfully as he seated across from him and daintily started to nibble on some toast.

“Stuff it, Zabini,” Harry said, and he took a piece of toast for himself and watched the boy for any signs of poisoning.

That’s how it would be, then, in Slytherin, at Hogwarts. Constantly watching for signs of poison.

It was a good thing he realized that when he did, for as he nibbled on safe toast and watched Teddy shovel sausage in his mouth, Malfoy seated himself next to Pansy Parkinson and said, as brightly as a Malfoy could say something. “Potions today, with Snape. Are those sausages?”

Harry suddenly knew that his day was about to take a turn for the worst.