Harry Potter stared, shocked, at the menacing man who had just smiled at him. The man looked how he always imagined a vampire would look. Dark, brooding and tall, too pale and too thin, and with eyes that seemed too black to belong to a living being. And yet, when he smiled, Harry couldn’t help but respond. He had been shown too little kindness in life to look such a gift as a smile in the mouth to see if it had fangs.

“Who’s that?” Harry whispered to Ron. But Ron wasn’t paying attention, too focused on watching the bossy girl from the train and hoping she didn’t get into Gryffindor.

“His name’s Professor Snape,” a voice from behind Harry said in a surprisingly mellow, low voice for an eleven year old. Harry turned to see a slim boy with dark skin looking at him appraisingly. “He’s the potions master and the head of Slytherin house. He was accused of being a supporter of Voldemort in the last war, but was acquitted. Supposedly Dumbledore vouched for him…told the entire Wizengamot that he was a hero and a great man.”

“But don’t you have to be a Slytherin to be head of Slytherin house? I thought everybody who went into Slytherin was evil?” Harry exclaimed.

“Evil?” The dark by grinned. “Who told you that? Weasley there?”

At the sound of his name, Ron whirled around to face the boy. “What are you saying about me?” he snapped. Harry glanced at the furious redhead nervously while nodding his head. “Yeah…but not just him. Hagrid told me there never was a wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin. I mean, Vol…You Know Who…was a Slytherin, right?”

“He said there wasn’t a wizard who went bad who wasn’t in Slytherin, not that all Slytherins went bad. Besides, I doubt that’s true. I don’t know this Hagrid bloke, but Slytherins have been prejudiced against for years.” The boy sneered. “Awful hypocritical, don’t you think Weasley, to hate someone for something they can’t control? Like the house they were sorted into? Or for their lack of money? I heard that prat Malfoy on the train.” Ron flushed a bright red.

The boy turned back to Harry. “Look, Potter. I’ll tell you something my mum told me. Slytherin is not a house for those who are evil. It is a house for those who are very adept at wearing masks. It’s not their fault that the world is naturally suspicious of masked men.”

Harry’s mind flashed through years of torment, of pretending gratitude towards a family who locked him in a cupboard. Of playing dumb so he didn’t get better grades than Dudley. Of hiding his anger and hatred of the Dursleys so he didn’t get the shit beat out of him. He knew about masks.

Ron nudged him, hard, and broke him out of his reverie. “They’re calling you, mate.” Harry started and then nervously took his place on the stool amidst a sea of whispers so thick as to have its own air current. The world went black as the too-large hat was lowered over his eyes.

“Hmm. Difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind either. There's talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now that's interesting...So where shall I put you?” The hat paused, as if waiting for Harry to comment. “Distracted, are we?” it asked. “Your thoughts are in quite the turmoil over what that boy said. He was right you know, Slytherin is a house for cunning and ambition, not a house for evil. Does no one listen to my song? Evil is hardly present in eleven year old minds, and I can assure you that there has been evil in all four houses. If there have been more in Slytherin…well…we often find ourselves fulfilling the parts others expect of us, don’t we?”

“I don’t understand,” Harry thought quietly to the hat.

The hat chuckled. “Well, we can hardly expect an eleven year old to process such abstract philosophical comments.”

“Sir? May I ask a question?”

A full out laugh this time. “Sir! I’ve never been called that, I’m sure. And you were wondering about Professor Snape?” Harry nodded. “Ooh, don’t do that boy, makes me seasick. As for Severus, I’m not sure why he smiled at you…but you two boys have much in common…much in common indeed. He could help you, Harry. Just as Slytherin could help you on the way to greatness, there’s no doubt about that. What do you think, Harry? Is Slytherin the place for you?”

And before Harry could answer, the hat shouted for the whole hall to hear…

“SLYTHERIN!”

Shakily, Harry lifted the hat off his head and placed it back on the stool. Unlike previous children, his sorting was met not with loud cheers but stunned silence. As he walked to the correct table, certain faces stuck in his mind. The, (ironically), identical expressions of shock and horror on Malfoy’s and Ron’s faces. The cool glance of the dark-skinned mellow-voiced boy. The stunned but oddly smug expression of Professor Snape. The oddly calculating stare of Professor Dumbledore. Harry sank into a seat as far from Malfoy and his thugs as he could get, not paying attention to the rest of the sorting until the boy from before sat down next to him and extended his hand.

“Welcome to Slytherin, Harry Potter. I’m Blaise Zabini.”

Harry looked at the boy and smiled nervously before taking his hand. “Thanks…and it’s just Harry.”