Harry woke up early the next morning at 5:43 according to the ancient, ornate grandfather clock that was in the Slytherin common room.  He was sprawled on his back in front of the fireplace looking up at the ceiling, which was made of dark stone, like the rest of the room.  The only good point about the Slytherin common room were the plush chairs of assorted shades of green.  Everything else was very – dark.  The moving tapestries on the wall were of wizards killing other wizards, dragons chasing wizards, and other things.  Some even had dark colored spots on them.  Blood, thought Harry.

As six o’clock rolled around, Harry looked up to see a girl coming out of one of the dorms.  She looked at him and asked, “Is that comfortable?”

Harry pushed himself up onto his elbows and looked at her from under his dark hair.

“I’s much be’er than wha’ I’m used t’.”

The girl arched an eyebrow at him and said, “Your off the streets.”

Harry smirked.  “How’d ye guess?”

“Your accent.  I-I’ve heard them talk.  I used to have a friend who lived in the streets.”

“‘O?  I migh’ve known ‘em.”

“He told me his name was Tyls.”

Harry’s eyebrows shot up into his hair and he lifted a hand to brush it back from his face.  His eyes were as wide as saucers as he stared at the girl.

“Ye…ye knew Tyls?”

The girl nodded and replied, “Yeah.  He used to come see me a lot.”

“So tha’s where ‘e w’en!  I cou’ never figure ou’ where ‘e w’en!”

The girl smiled and sank down onto the floor beside him.

“So, how’d you know Tyls?  He told me the only people he knew besides me were street people.”

“I lived wi’ ‘im.  The both o’ us were raised by Argil.”

“He talked about Argil.  Didn’t seem to like him.”

“‘E…’e was’n tha’ nice,” said Harry.

“But…he fed you.  Clothed you.”

Harry let out a bark of harsh laughter.

“Yeh, tha’s all ‘e did.  Res’ o’ the time ‘e ‘ad us out in the stree’s pickin’ pockets.”

The girl’s eyes widened.  “You were a pickpocket?”

“Am.  Ye learn, ye don’t ferget.”

“Ah.”  The girl held out her hand and said, “Niamh O’Feir.”

Harry took her hand and said, “Harry Potter.”

“I know.”

“Yeh, lot’s o’ people tell me tha’.”

“Well, it’s true.”

“Yeh, famous me.”

Niamh nodded and said, “It must be strange to be from the streets and end up here being famous.”

“Strange is ‘n understa’men’.”

Niamh laughed and Harry smiled.

“Oh, look.  The Mudblood and Potty.  How quaint.”

Both Niamh and Harry whirled around to see Draco standing in the door leading to the boy’s dorm, a sneer on his face.  He continued, “What’s wrong, Potter?  Not know a Mudblood when you see one?”

Harry got to his feet and said, “Sod off, Malfoy.”

“You don’t know what it even means, do you?”

Harry moved towards Draco slowly, looking more like he was gliding than walking.  He stopped when their faces were inches apart, their noses almost touching, and said in a low voice, “I know very well wha’ i’ means, Malfoy.  An’ wha’ ‘ave ye goh agains’ em?”

Draco sneered, “They’re Mudbloods, Potter.”

Harry’s eyes narrowed to slits and he growled, “Ye ‘ad be’er watch i’, Malfoy.”

“Or what, Potter?”

“Ye know wha’ I did on the train?”

Draco paled then snapped, “Yeah.”

“I’ll do worse then tha’.”

Draco paled even more and Harry sneered at him before walking back over to Niamh, who smiled at him.  Harry said, “Le’s go downstairs.  Be’er ter ge’ away from ‘im.”  Niamh nodded and vanished into the girl’s dorm while Harry roughly shoved Draco aside to get into the boy’s dorm.  He walked past the other four sleeping boys in the dorm and grabbed his bag from beside his trunk.  Slinging it over his shoulder, he plowed past Draco again and waited for Niamh.  As soon as she appeared, the both of them left.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

“Argh…”

“Wha’?”

Harry looked up from his plate to see Niamh beating her forehead against the tabletop.

“Oi, stop tha’.  Wha’s got ye in a fuss?”

Niamh handed him two slips of paper, one, which he saw, had his name on it.

“Class schedules?”

“Yeah.”

“Wha’…oh….”

“First class, double Potions.  With the Gryffindors.”

Harry handed Niamh her schedule back and stuffed his in a pocket of his robes.

“Wha’s wrong wit’ the Gryffindors?”

“According to a book I read before I came here, Gryffindor and Slytherin have always been at each others throats.”

“Tha’ doan mean we ‘ave ter be.”

“Then we’d have the whole house against us.”

“Tha’?  Tha’s nothin’!  Ye shou’ see ‘ow i’ is on tha’ streets.  Some folk rathered kick ye than look at ye.”

Niamh lifted her head, blue eyes dull, and grumbled, “So do some of the Gryffindors from what I’ve heard.”

Harry shrugged.

“Well, I fer one wo’n pu’ up wi’h i’.  An’ neither shou’ ye, Niamh.”

“Alright, Harry.  I’ll try.”

“Good.  Oi, isn’ the Potions teacher our Head of House?”

“I have no idea.”

“Eh..”

“We’d better get to class.”

“Can I a’ leas’ finish eatin’?”

“Alright.”

“T’anks.”

“No problem.”

A few minutes later –

“Now we can go.”

“Good.  We’re going to need to ask where the Potions classroom is.”

“Oh bloody ‘ell…”

Harry and Niamh grabbed their bags and left the Great Hall.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

After finally finding a Ravenclaw prefect who would give them directions, Harry and Niamh made their way back down into the dungeons.  They found the Potions classroom easily enough by following the voices of other students.  As soon as they got there Harry recognized one of the other students in the crowd.

“Oi!  Ron!”

Ron looked up, frowned when he spotted Harry, then turned around to talk to a sandy-haired boy.  Harry frowned then strode forward.  He tapped Ron on the shoulder and asked, “Wha’s up wit’ ye?  I though’ we were frien’s.”

Ron frowned and said, “We were.”

“Ah.  An’ now we’re na ‘cause I’m a Slytherin?”

“Erm…”

“Ye’ve go’ some bloody twisted logic der, Ron.”

Ron’s ears turned red and Harry smirked.

“See.  Even ye know it.”

Ron snorted.  Harry sighed and said, “C’mon, Ron.  We’re frien’s.  Doan le’ wha’ house we’re in break our frien’ship.”

Ron frowned for a moment then nodded.

“Alright, Harry.”

Harry beamed.

“Glad ter see ye came ‘round.”

Ron shook his head and chuckled then looked at Niamh.

“Who’s this?”

Harry said, “Ron, meet Niamh O’Feir.  Niamh, Ron Weasley.”

“Nice to meet you,” said Niamh.

“Muggleborn?” asked Ron, taking Niamh’s outstretched hand.

Niamh nodded.  “How’d you guess?”

“I just did.”

“Guessed?”

“Yep.”

Harry shook his head then looked up as a dark-haired man wearing black robes stalked up and threw open the door.  He glared at them as they scurried inside and slipped into their seats, following them in and moving to stand behind his desk.  Harry and Niamh ended up in the two seats farthest back near the door on the Gryffindor side, while Ron had ended up in the front.  As the teacher, Snape, began to call roll, Harry looked around at the classroom, of which the main attraction were jars filled with pickled animals.  Harry pointed these out to Niamh, who made a choking noise.

“Potter, Harry.”

Harry looked up into Snape’s cold black eyes and said, “‘Ere.”  Several people – including Snape – stared at him for a moment.  Harry scowled furiously at them and most of them turned away.  However, Snape’s eyes lingered on him for a moment before turning away.

The class was spent making a simple potion to cure boils.  Snape swept around the room in his black cloak, watching them.  If Harry had been paying less attention to getting his potion correct, he would have noticed Snape’s eyes falling on him several times.

At the end of the class, Snape walked around and looked at each potion, awarding points to the Slytherins and criticizing the Gryffindors.

“Five points for a perfect potion, Potter.  I am surprised.”

Snape ordered them to pack up after that.  As Harry threw his potions ingredients into his cauldron he wondered what Snape had been talking about.

/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/*/

Oh, Merlin.

He’s here.  Here.  At Hogwarts.

Lily’s son.

Oh, yes, he could only be Lily’s son.  No one else could have those eyes.

Those eyes that have haunted me in my sleep every night for ten years.  Ten years.  Ten years of seeing them staring up at me, cold and lifeless.

“Stop thinking about that.  It’s in the past.  You can’t change what happened!”

Humphf.  I can tell myself that.  But is it true?

Could I have saved her?

Could I?

I doubt it.

But I still wonder.

Dammit, why did he have to be in Slytherin?

Or a better question, how in all nine hells did he get in Slytherin?

Lily was a Gryffindor, as was Potter.

How on earth could that boy be any different?

And what about his accent?  It sounds…streetwise.  I should know, my own sounded that way at one point in time.  Thank Merlin I got over that.

Sigh.

Oh hell.  How can I do this?

How can I look into her eyes during class?  Her eyes in Potter’s…  Wait.  Not truly Potter’s face.  Not truly at all.

I wonder….

No.  No, nothing came from that so don’t consider it.  It doesn’t do to dwell on the past.

Yet I do anyway.

Damn.