Ten years.

It had been ten years since Lily and James Potter had died and their only son, Harry, had miraculously survived. Ten years since You-Know-Who had disappeared. Ten years of unfettered peace the wizarding world had enjoyed for the first time in nearly a century.

Dark wizards had come and gone, but none so spectacularly as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named. When he had disappeared, many feared there would be one of his followers who would attempt to fill the power vacuum left behind by the disappearance of their leader. Anyone who attempted to, however, was immediately arrested. Some, such as Sirius Black, without trial.

Today, though, was a big day for the wizarding world. Today, Harry Potter, their saviour, would rejoin their world after having lived with his muggle relatives since the death of his parents. Today their hero returned and they would welcome him with open arms.

No one really knew anything about Harry Potter. What did he like? What were his favorite foods? Did he enjoy school? Did he enjoy sports? What was he like?!

What was he like?

All eyes were looking for him as the train to Hogwarts was boarded. Everyone was looking for someone who looked like James Potter: tall, lanky, wild black hair. It was well known, however, that he had his mother’s eyes. A powerful couple they had been: beautiful, tall, rich, good morals. The Potter family had been an inspiration to many. Stand strong, fight the good fight. Surely their son would take after them!

Where was their son? Where was Harry?

Few eyes saw the dark haired child board the train from the back, and those who did assumed it was an unknown muggleborn student. They ignored him though, for he was much too small and scrawny to be who they were waiting for.

When Harry Potter didn’t show up at the train station, it was assumed Albus Dumbledore had already taken him to Hogwarts so as to avoid the train and the crowds. Albus Dumbledore was always looking after the boy, making sure he was raised away from the fawning masses. He needed to be raised to be humble.

What house would Harry Potter be in? Surely it would be Gryffindor. Every Potter for generations had been one, and a child as brave and powerful as Harry Potter had been even at the tender age one could go nowhere else.

---

“Better be….SLYTHERIN!”

The entire great hall was silent as the small, thin, dark haired boy nearly ran to the Slytherin table and sat down, hands tucked between his legs, head bowed, and shoulders hunched. There were a few moments of silence before the sorting restarted. Applause for the other incoming students continued, although it was far more stunted than it had been previously.

How could this have happened? Harry Potter in Slytherin?

Once the sorting had finished and the headmaster had said his traditional welcome to the student, food appeared on the table almost as fast as the whispers began. Students from every house kept looking over at Slytherin, trying to catch a glimpse of their hero.

How dare he?! Didn’t he know Slytherin was where He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been?

Harry could hear the whispers. He had tried to convince the sorting hat not to put him there, but it had insisted, stating he would do much better there. How could that be? He knew he wasn’t wanted at Hogwarts. Eventually they would find out what a freak he was, they always did.

“You need to eat something,” an older student said, nudging him and motioning to the food.

Harry slowly raised his eyes and looked in awe at the now filled platters in front of him. His stomach ached with hunger, but he knew the rules. No eating until the normal people had had their fill. None of the food is yours. Eating with your eyes is still eating.

Harry’s stomach growled as he snapped his eyes back to looking at his hands. He hadn’t eaten in several days and the smells of the fantastic meal sitting in front of him were enough to make him dizzy.

“Are you sick?” the rude, blonde boy from the train said from across the table. What was his name again? Draco?

Harry didn’t answer, but rather pulled his knees to his chest as best he could while sitting on a bench. The smell of pot roast assaulting his senses and making him drool and look up at the food once more.

NO! He couldn’t break the rules. Not this early into being here. This wasn’t his food. This was far too nice for people like him: for freaks.

Maybe just an apple? Or a roll? Maybe they wouldn’t mind him eating those? He was so hungry

He quickly scanned the table and saw a small apple sitting in a basket filled with fruit just down the table. The rolls were also down a bit from where he was sitting. Too far away for him to get without bothering other people.

That was another rule: don’t bother other people.

“Potter, eat. We aren’t going to hurt you,” the older girl said again, giving him a slight nudge once more.

Harry winced when the girl’s arm grazed his ribs. He was fairly certain he had at least one broken bone in there.

Glancing at the table once more, he saw those around him looking at him curiously. He could imagine what they were thinking. Why is this freak sitting with us? Why is he even sitting at the table? I wonder if he’ll try touching the food. He shouldn’t be sitting at the table. He knows he shouldn’t be sitting at the table.

A glance towards the head table confirmed it. The adults were all talking amongst themselves and pointing at him. One man in particular was glaring at him, unbridled fury evident on his face. Suddenly a pain shot through Harry’s head as the man made eye contact with him.

Harry immediately went back into the proper position: hands between his knees, head down, shoulders hunched. His eyes watered at the pain in his forehead. He had never had that happen before. Maybe the man had cursed him for breaking the rules? He would try harder, he had to. He didn’t want to feel that sharp pain in his head again.

Stealthily, he raised his eyes to the table once more hoping the others would be done soon. Maybe when they left he could get that apple? It was still sitting there, untouched. And he was so hungry.

---

Gemma Farley was worried. This was her first year as a Prefect and she had been so proud to be chosen. This was her chance to make a name for herself and for her family. They were not a wealthy family like the Malfoys, nor were they famous like the Potters. Their name was all they had and it was hard being a pureblood from an unknown family. Something had to change, and she was going to be the one to do it. She would be the one to put their name on the map.

But this wasn’t the way she wanted to do it. She hoped she was wrong. Every fiber of her being hoped she was wrong. But she was still going to report it. She had to.

There was something wrong with Harry Potter. Something seriously wrong. She could tell he wanted to eat, but she could tell he was terrified of something. He was shaking so badly she could feel it through the bench. He had looked healthy enough from a distance, but sitting next to her, she could see bright purple bruises hidden just under his collar.

She had tried to get him to eat, but even nudging the boy to try and pull him from his thoughts seemed to cause him pain. And still he just stared at the food, though he seemed to not want to get caught doing so.

He kept making googly eyes at a platter of fruit, however. Maybe he would eat if someone gave it to him?

She saw him look at the head table, then jolt and look back down before returning to staring at the fruit, albeit as though he were trying not to get caught looking at it.

And still he made no move to take any food for himself.

Sighing, she reached over and grabbed an apple from the fruit pile and placed it on his plate. She had thought he would be grateful, perhaps even thank her. The response she got only furthered her worry: he looked at her briefly, terror evident in his eyes, before looking back down at his knees.

Throughout the rest of the meal, no matter what was said to him or around him, he remained locked in that position. He never looked at the apple on his plate, he never looked at the table again, he never lifted his eyes from his knees. He just sat there, frozen. Only the trembling she could see in his shoulders and the occasional jerks as a loud noise occurred in the hall prevented her from assuming he had been petrified by a spell.

When dessert came, he remained frozen, ignoring the changing of the food on the table. The apple remained untouched on his plate as everyone around him tucked into the various sweet treats and puddings which had materialized in place of the fantastic main course.

It wasn’t until everyone had finished eating that he finally grabbed the apple. He didn’t, however, begin to eat it. Instead, he quickly shoved the apple into his pocket and immediately went back to his former position, though now he seemed to be protecting the apple he had stashed in his pocket.

Something was definitely wrong.

---

Standing outside of the Slytherin common room, Severus Snape found himself taking several calming breaths. Never in a million years had he expected this. A Potter in Slytherin? How? And the boy was obviously as spoiled as his father! Why else would he refuse to eat the meal provided by the school?

In fact, the boy had looked as though he were on the verge of tears looking at the food. Even Draco Malfoy, who was undoubtedly the most spoiled child to grace Hogwarts’s school grounds, had readily tucked into the meal. Potter, on the other hand, had only stared at the food. Maybe he was just in shock, Merlin knows the rest of the school was. Or maybe he was expecting to be spoon fed.

Whatever the case may be, no matter how badly he despised the boy, Mr. Potter was now in Slytherin house. What better place to keep track of the boy and make sure he wasn’t following in his father's steps?

Severus took a deep breath and walked into the Slytherin common room to deliver his customary beginning of the year speech. Before beginning, he briefly swept the room with his eyes to take in the children in his house. It was incredible how much each of them had grown from when he first saw them, both physically and intellectually.

“Welcome to the proud house of Slytherin,” he began, eyes searching out each of the first years. “Congratulations to our new first years, I hope in the coming weeks and months you shall find this house to be a second family for you and these hallowed walls to be your home. You may find the other houses do not take kindly to us and our ways, but here you shall find safety.”

“Do take note,” he said, eyes locking onto the scruffy black hair of Harry Potter, who was for some reason kneeling on the floor by the sofa. “Others may search out our weaknesses, wondering why we are consistently the highest achieving house in every regard, even outpacing the Ravenclaws in academics and Gryffindors in sports. Always present a unified front. If one person is struggling in this house, the whole house struggles. We are only as strong as our weakest member. Remember, you are not the only person in this house. Your achievements are your own, but only if they are not at the expense of someone else.”

“Prefects, please make sure all students have their schedules and general maps before going to breakfast in the morning. First years, contained within your schedules will be built in study time as well as a list of expectations for both behavior and dress. Good night, and again, welcome.”

He turned and stalked out, looking once more at Potter who was now looking around at everyone getting up as though they were all going to attack him. Good, maybe the boy’s fear would keep him in line for a while. Hopefully one of the other first years would teach him some manners.

---

“Potter, what are you doing?” the dark skinned first year boy asked, yanking open the curtains around his bed.

“Cleaning,” Harry said softly, jumping at the address and nearly dropping his rag. The room was quite clean, but there were a few areas he noticed that needed a little extra elbow grease.

“That’s what house-elves are for,” Draco said, climbing into bed and pulling the covers up to his shoulders. “Didn’t you have house-elves?”

Harry shook his head, and lowered the rag. If this wasn’t his chore, then what was? How was he going to earn his keep?

“What should I do then,” Harry whispered, barely hearing himself over the largest two boys in the room’s snores.

“You should go to bed,” Draco said, eyes peering out from under the covers. “Come on Potter, the lights won’t go out completely until everyone is in bed.”

Harry looked around the room in confusion. All of the beds were taken except for the one between Draco and the dark skinned boy. There was no way that one was his, no possible way. Maybe they were missing someone? But there were no empty cupboards and the wardrobes were already full of their clothing. Maybe he was to sleep in the wardrobe with his clothing? He wasn’t supposed to be on the furniture, he was too dirty, he’d mess it up.

He went to the wardrobe with his clothes in it and looked at the way it was laid out. It would be cramped to be under all of his uniforms, but he could make it work. He’d have to, especially if there was another person who was going to be joining them and took that bed.

“Potter? What are you doing now?” the dark skinned boy growled, throwing off his covers and stalking towards Harry.

“Going to bed,” Harry murmured, sidestepping away from the wardrobe and the other boy, arms instinctively creeping into a more defensive position. He hoped the other boy wouldn’t hit him too hard for not understanding, his ribs and back were still sore from the beating Uncle Vernon gave him before he left.

“Go to bed in your bed,” the boy said, pointing at the empty bed. “Not in the wardrobe, not on the floor, in the bed. Are you dense?”

Harry shook his head slightly and shuffled to the bed, giving the boy a wide berth. The bed was his? Why would they give him a bed? He wasn’t allowed! What if Uncle Vernon found out?

He stood by the bed for a moment too long, longing to climb into it, imagining what it would be like to sleep on a soft surface for the first time in his life.

“Potter! Get in the bloody bed!” the dark skinned boy growled, suddenly standing at his side.

Harry immediately threw his hands up to protect his face and flinched violently away from the other boy.

“Zabini, stop. Look at him,” Draco said, sitting up to get a better look at what was going on.

“Potter?” Zabini said, malice draining from his voice. “I just want you to go to bed. I’m tired, I just want to sleep.”

Harry kept backing away from him, however. Aunt Petunia would do this sometimes too. She would be nice one moment, then lash out the next. He wasn’t going to fall for it again. He hadn’t fallen for that ruse in a long time.

Blaise sighed and walked back to his bed in frustration. He had been hoping for the room to be dark so he could sleep well, but it looked like he would have to get used to having some light on in the room. What was up with Potter anyways? It was just a bed! He shut the curtains on his four poster and was thankful they blocked out much of the noise and light from outside. He could still hear some murmuring as Draco took his place in trying to convince Potter to get into the bed, but it was low enough he could block it out. Finally, some rest!

Draco climbed out of bed when Zabini finally gave up the fight. Something was wrong with Potter. True, these beds were nothing compared to those at Malfoy Manor, but it had taken climbing into them for him to find that out. Maybe he could convince Potter they were ok? But that didn’t explain the flinching and jumpiness when Zabini was walking towards him.

“Potter,” Draco said, looking at the small boy who was looking longingly at the wardrobe. “Why don’t you want to sleep in the bed?”

Harry paled several shades as he whispered, “What if Uncle Vernon finds out?”

“Finds out about what?” Draco asked. Who was ‘Uncle Vernon?’

“That the freak has a bed.”

“Who is ‘the freak?’”

“Me.”

Draco felt his stomach drop. He suddenly doubted Potter was not wanting to get into bed because the bed was below his standards. In fact, he doubted Potter had a bed at all at home. Or house-elves to do the cleaning.

“Is he a muggle?”

“Yes,” Harry said, twisting his hands together. He really wanted to get into the bed, but freaks don’t get beds.

“He won’t find out. Besides, this bed is assigned to you. Look,” Draco pointed at the small plaque at the foot of the bed which read the bed’s owner’s name.

Harry looked at the plaque in awe, emblazoned on it was the name ‘H. Potter.’ Not ‘freak’ or ‘boy’ or any other name the Dursleys had called him. His name, his real name, was there.

“It’s mine?” he asked, staring at the bed in awe.

“Yeah, now change out of your uniform and get in it,” Draco said, a small, worried smile on his face.

Harry shakily went to the wardrobe and took out the oldest, rattiest shirt Draco had ever seen. He then gently took off his tie, robe, and trousers. As he was beginning to remove his shirt, Draco noticed something on the back of it. It was obviously a new shirt, but there were small red spots on the back of it. When Harry removed the shirt, Draco immediately realized what it was.

Blood. The boy’s back was covered in raised welts, many of which were bleeding slightly. There were bruises all over the boy’s back and arms in various stages of healing, including one which looked oddly like a boot print. Draco didn’t get too good of a look, however, as Harry quickly pulled the oversized shirt over his head. The rattiness of it made Draco think of the house-elves at the Manor.

Harry didn’t have house-elves because he was the house-elf.

That realization left a horrible taste in Draco’s mouth as he watched the smaller boy come to the bed and freeze again before gently touching the bedspread and leaning his weight against it. He then jumped back and looked around as though expecting to be attacked. When no attack came, he slowly climbed onto the bed, being sure to continue facing towards the door to the common room.

He wasn’t under the covers, but he was at least in the bed. Slowly the lights dimmed until they barely let out any light at all. Draco let out a sigh of relief. It was now nearly half past two in the morning, and they were to be up and in the great hall for breakfast at seven thirty. Hopefully Potter would get the hang of getting into bed at night, otherwise this was going to be a long seven years.

---

As the Slytherin first year boys tiredly meandered into the Great Hall, looking for all intents and purposes as though they had slept only a few hours, Severus couldn’t help but quietly groan. Of course the boys would be tired, he had no doubt that Potter had kept them up late regaling them with stories of his conquests. He had never had to impose a bedtime on any of his students, but maybe he would have to for this batch of first years.

“Severus, look at him. He looks miserable!” Minerva McGonagall said. She had been trying to convince anyone who would listen that there had been a mistake.

“Him and the rest of the first year Slytherins,” Severus said, raising an eyebrow at the older woman. “In all likelihood, he was keeping them awake with his tales of his wonderful life.”

“He shouldn’t be down there, though! What would his parent’s have thought?” Minerva continued. “Is he even safe down there?”

Severus resisted the urge to slam his coffee mug into the ground.

“Are you insinuating I cannot control my students?!” he demanded, his grip tightening around the mug.

“Nothing of the sort!” Minerva tried to back track. “I just mean he is not the largest of children and…”

“And what? That my Slytherins would be any more rough with the boy than your Gryffindors would be? He was sorted into my house. He belongs with the other snakes. Maybe they will even be able to teach the boy some manners!”

He looked pointedly at the Gryffindor table where the Weasley twins were shovelling eggs into their mouths at record speed while several other students were seen throwing toast to one another across the table. The Slytherin table, on the other hand, was far more subdued as the students looked over the schedules and maps they had been provided. Manners were one of the things many of the pure-blood families prided themselves on, and their children followed suit.

Looking at where Draco had sat, he was surprised to find he was sitting next to Potter. While Potter was facing away from him, he could see some of what Draco was doing. Apparently they were having a discussion on cutlery. Draco seemed to get extremely frustrated and turned away from the boy who gingerly picked the most burned piece of bacon off the stack in the middle of the table.

“Severus, are you sure he is fine? He looks so alone!” Minerva continued badgering him.

---

Draco sighed in frustration. Apparently Potter truly was his family’s personal house-elf. He even thought he wasn’t supposed to eat with anyone else, that he had to wait for the table scraps. He had no idea how to properly use a knife or a fork as he had apparently never been allowed to use them. He jumped at loud noises. He was rather terrified of Crabbe as he apparently reminded him a lot of his cousin.

Potter was just a bundle of unfortunate information.

Draco had given the smaller boy one of his school bags as he had noticed the boy didn’t have one. Harry had thanked him graciously, and promptly tried to return it once he found he didn’t have to lug all of his books around at the same time.

Worst of all, though, was his complete lack of understanding of social cues. It didn’t matter if someone were joking around with him, telling him the truth, trying to be friendly, or being a right git, Potter assumed what the other person was saying was an order or was not talking to him. He would stand with the other boys, but looked for all intents and purposes as though he were a house-elf waiting for an order.

Draco had taken to saying his name before every sentence if speaking to him just to make sure he understood the upcoming phrase was relating to him.

It wasn’t as though his attention span was bad, but rather that he was always paying attention to everything and wasn’t used to actually having to speak in a conversation. He knew every one of the Slytherin boy’s favorite colors, the way they tied their shoes, and which leather pack was whose (Draco, Theo, and Zabini had the exact same one). He knew his way around the castle faster than any of the other boys and would routinely beat the rest of them to class (though he would never enter the room alone).

His terror of being called on in class was palpable, to the point even Professor Snape had seen it as even he avoided calling on Potter in class after the first day when he nearly had a panic attack after being called on to answer a question. Severus had to admit, he had been a bit harsh to the boy at the time, believing him to be like his father. It became very apparent this was not the case when Potter began hyperventilating when the class’s attention was on him waiting for him to answer.

It had taken over a week for Potter to even begin to get acclimated to living at Hogwarts. Every day was a new struggle, but one the first year Slytherin boys took on, the voice of their head of house ringing in their ears. Present a unified front. If one Slytherin struggles, the whole house struggles. It wouldn’t do for the other houses to know of Potter’s weaknesses and fears.

Especially since it was Potter.

Draco took on much of the responsibility of making sure he made it through the day. Every night, Draco would stay up to help coerce him into bed, reminding him his muggle uncle didn’t know about it. In the morning, Zabini would help him with tying his tie and shoes and Theo would make sure he actually ate something for breakfast rather than just shoving an apple in his bag and running, but after that he would follow Draco around like a lost puppy. Draco, however, always made it a point to make sure Potter didn’t look like he was following him in such a manner, throwing an arm around the boy’s shoulder or locking elbows with him to prevent him from hiding behind.

It worked well. A bit too well.

Within a few days of Potter’s sorting, word had gotten to the papers. Pictures of the two boys walking down the hallway, arms linked, soon followed.

”’Boy-Who-Lived Going Dark?’” the headlines screamed. ”’The Next Dark Lord?’ ‘Harry Potter: Gryffindor or Slytherin?’”

Something had to be done. Immediately. How could the “Saviour of the Wizarding World,” the Boy-Who-Lived be a Slytherin? He had to be in Gryffindor! He had to be!

It wasn’t long before word reached the Ministry of Magic in the form of Howlers. Cornelius Fudge had had to spell a bin under his desk with several wards and silencing charms in which to place the Howlers he was receiving. It was getting absurd, and the longer he waited, the more Howlers he received. He agreed, of course. Harry Potter, a Slytherin. How preposterous.

It had to be that hat. Merlin knows that thing had been around long enough. Since the time of the Founders to be exact. Over a thousand years of the spells being renewed on the hat had definitely taken its toll on the old thing. It wasn’t as accurate as it had been in the past. Granted, Fudge felt he had been placed correctly in Hufflepuff as he valued hard work and loyalty, but it was the premise of the thing. There was no way a hat which was a millennia old would be working properly.

Though it did sort Lucius Malfoy into Slytherin and Fudge couldn’t think of a better place for the ruthless, sly bastard. But then again, there was also Sirius Black. How that wicked, evil man had ended up anywhere but Slytherin was anyone’s guess.

‘Yes, yes, it is the hat,’ Fudge thought as he got out of the carriage, mopping his brow with a handkerchief and walking up the stairs to the main doors of Hogwarts. ‘There is something wrong with the hat.’

---

“Absolutely not!” Professor Snape roared, slamming his fist on the desk. “The hat made its decision. Potter is a Slytherin!”

“Severus, listen to reason!” Professor McGonagall said, rising to her feet and pointing her finger in the younger man’s face. “It just isn’t safe for the boy in that House…”

“MY House, you mean?!”

“Severus, now hear me out my boy, the hat is ancient…” the Minister said, mopping his crimson face again. “It’s bound to make a mistake.”

“Have you even looked at the boy, Severus?” Minerva continued. “He’s petrified. He doesn’t even want to sit at the same table as the other Slytherins; they force him to stay there.”

“They do no such thing!”

“He needs to be in a more supportive environment! It would do him good to be in the same house his parents were in. Goodness knows there is enough pictures and memorabilia…”

“Quidditch trophies!”

“...to last the boy a lifetime!”

“Now, Severus,” Fudge butted in. “The wizarding world is currently in an uproar.”

“Let them be.”

“ENOUGH!” Dumbledore said loudly, though not shouting. “Severus, please sit. Minerva, you as well.”

Both professors say, nostrils flaring, wanting nothing more than to continue their argument.

“Thank you, Minister, for bringing this to our attention. I, too, have been receiving letters from concerned parents about the situation at hand and have been considering different ways of approaching the issue,” Dumbledore said calmly, just as another Howler exploded on his desk.

“HOW COULD YOU ALLOW SUCH A VULNERABLE CHILD BE SORTED INTO THAT EVIL HOUSE!” the voice of Augusta Longbottom screamed out, rattling the teeth of everyone in the room. “YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED! YOU ARE THE HEADMASTER, OVERRIDE THE DAMNED SORTING HAT!”

“As I was saying, I have been thinking about how to approach this issue,” Dumbledore continued as though there had not just been the voice of an angry, elderly woman screaming in their ears. “As Mrs. Longbottom stated, I am Headmaster. I do indeed have the power to override the Sorting Hat should the situation warrant it. And in this case, I do believe it does.”

“Headmaster!”

“Not because Slytherin is inherently dark or evil, Severus, but rather for the boy’s safety within the greater wizarding world. Should he remain in Slytherin, he risks having the entire wizarding world turn their backs on him. As a young, untrained wizard, this could be extremely dangerous and very well lead him down a path towards darkness in ways that Slytherin house, nor any house, would be responsible for.”

Severus sat back in shock. Never had he thought the boy would be removed from his house. While he had no strong feelings towards the boy, he certainly did not like having his authority over a student removed simply because people “didn’t like them being in Slytherin.” In the nine years he had been Head of Slytherin House, he had spoken with many families and students alike about the benefits of being in Slytherin. It was not uncommon for families to be opposed to their child being placed in Slytherin initially, though rarely were those feelings kept throughout the child's entire school career.

Having Potter removed from his house was a slap in the face. All of his hard work to build rapport for Slytherins within the wizarding world as a whole following the defeat of the Dark Lord would be for not.

The one and only benefit of having the boy out of the house was maybe now his other first years wouldn’t perpetually look as though they had gotten only a few hours of sleep. That and not having to see Lily’s eyes every time he looked out at his students.

“Mark my words,” Severus hissed at the headmaster as he stood to leave. “That boy does not belong anywhere other than in Slytherin. The ‘torment’ you believe will happen for being sorted into my house will not stop simply by moving him to another house.”