At first, Harry couldn't seem to move. It wasn't until the stern-faced older woman who had introduced herself as Professor McGonagall gave him a gentle push and took the Hat from his head that he found his legs worked, after all. He stumbled toward the Slytherin table, feeling wooden. They didn't look any friendlier now that he was one of them, although Malfoy's mouth gaped open inelegantly.

The silence was broken by the Headmaster clapping, but he was one of the only ones. The Slytherins finally started applauding as well, and he saw Malfoy mouthing to the brute-like boys next to him something about Potter, but he couldn't quite catch it. Nevertheless, he finally managed to sit down, perching himself on the very edge of the bench like he was ready to dive for cover at any moment.

The bushy-haired Granger girl had already been Sorted into Ravenclaw and he could see her when he craned his head. She looked awed by her surroundings, although her bright gaze managed to pick him out several times, and he thought he could catch a glimpse of concern on her face.

Ron was Sorted into Gryffindor. And by the look of betrayal that had crossed the redheaded boy's face when the Hat yelled Slytherin for Harry, that friendship had been nipped in the bud before it even started. And he'd been looking forward to it so much, too. Harry stifled a sigh and straightened the slump he'd fallen into as the Sorting concluded and "Zabini, Blaise" sat next to him.

"Hello, Potter," Blaise said agreeably enough. Harry murmured back a greeting as the plates in front of him filled up with food and his jaw dropped.

"Not used to magic?" Blaise chuckled, and Harry shook his head.

"Of course not, he was raised by Muggles," Malfoy sneered from across the table.

"Shut it, Malfoy," Blaise drawled. "Everyone knows that, did you think you were being clever?"

A muffled snicker ran around the table and Malfoy's cheeks flushed painfully red. For a moment, Harry felt sorry for the prat. He remembered, after all, what it was like for Dudley to humiliate him, for the embarrassment to rise fever-high as everyone else laughed and laughed and never shut up...

On the other hand, this was Draco Malfoy, and Harry doubted Malfoy had felt much humiliation in his life anyway. It might be good for him every once in a while to learn that his name didn't make him so very special after all.

So he said nothing and merely concentrated on his mashed potatoes. Midway through the meal, his gaze was caught by a particular hook-nosed, black-haired professor at the Head Table.

"Who's that?" Harry managed to ask once he'd swallowed the overly large mouthful of chicken. The stuttering professor he'd met in the Leaky Cauldron sat next to the man in question, and as Harry looked, a bright stab of pain flashed across his forehead, nearly making him choke.

"Our Head of House," Blaise answered once he'd looked up himself. "Professor Snape."

Harry murmured a thanks as he finished his goblet of pumpkin juice. It was an acquired taste, but he thought he liked it. The man looked stern. Not to be crossed. Despite the overly slender frame and greasy-looking hair, he reminded Harry uneasily of Uncle Vernon. This was the sort of man who could hurt you. A lot.

His opinion was not changed by the after-dinner meeting in the Common Room. The Slytherin dorms were down in the dungeon and Harry was already shivering by the time they filed their way into the ornately decorated room (through a wall, no less. Despite Platform 9 3/4, Harry had been more than half-convinced he was going to walk right into the stone and knock himself out).

"Welcome to Slytherin House," Professor Snape said in cold, formal tones. He'd drawn his robes up around him in a way that looked undeniably elegant and Harry felt a brief flash of envy somewhere inside. "While you are here at Hogwarts, your House will be your home..." He went on, listing the House rules. No squabbling outside the House walls. The other Houses disliked them, so it was important to present a united front.

Great, Harry thought when he heard that bit of news, his stomach sinking. So everybody else will act like Dudley, essentially.

Finally, Professor Snape ended his speech and turned his attention on the first years.

"All members of Slytherin House are expected to have monthly meetings with me," he reiterated. "First years are first. These are important for me to get a sense of your academic standing, as well as helping you adjust to life at Hogwarts. As such, I will be putting up a list by the entrance, and meetings will start this Friday. Please check the list for your time, I will be most displeased if you are late."

Harry nodded fervently. More and more, this man was sounding like Uncle Vernon. Although at least he hadn't directly attacked Harry so far. That hope was quickly dispelled when he turned his dark gaze on Harry.

"Mr. Potter, I was surprised when you were Sorted into this House," Professor Snape said, managing to convey his displeasure in a simple sentence. Harry's shoulders sagged. "Do be a credit, would you."

"Yes, sir," Harry whispered, but the man had already turned away with a flamboyant swirl of his robes, calling away the prefects for a secondary meeting.

Harry blinked, and suddenly, he wasn't there anymore.