One month later

***

As the 4th of September dawned Harry lay awake in his bed. He’d been tossing and turning since the early hours of the morning, his stomach knotted into one huge mass of fear and apprehension. The dreaded day had arrived. Today his Uncle would drop him off at Kings Cross Station for him to catch the train to that place. There was no escaping it. He was about to face his worse fears.

Half past six and the alarm on Harry’s wrist watch started to beep. He hurried to jump out of bed and prepare breakfast for the rest of his family. It was expected of him and today would be no exception. In any case, he wanted to do the lion’s share of the chores around the place to make up a little for being such a dreadful burden to his relatives. As long as he’d been old enough to remember Harry had felt immeasurably grateful for them taking him in despite his grotesque disposition.

Absorbed in his thoughts Harry set to work in the kitchen on auto-pilot. He sliced several thick slices of bread and set them aside ready for toasting. He set plates, cutlery, cups, saucers and milk upon the table as quietly as he could so as not to disturb the rest of his family in case they were still sleeping. Harry had learnt to organise himself well in the kitchen over the years. He multi-tasked, scrambling eggs while the bacon sizzled and kettle boiled.

It wasn’t until the whole family was seated around the table and he was sat beside them cradling a glass of milk in his hands that a voice interrupted his thoughts.

‘Why aren’t you eating?’ his aunt demanded having noticed the empty plate which lay in front of him.

‘I don’t know,’ he mumbled before taking a slice of toast.

‘Well go on,’ his uncle told him, shoving the dish of eggs towards him, ‘don’t waste good food.’

Obediently Harry added some eggs to his plate and forced himself to take a bite. They might have been cardboard in his mouth, he chewed slowly before washing the mouthful down with a gulp of milk.

‘We’ll need to set off at nine o’clock,’ his uncle told him, ‘so make sure you’re ready.’

Harry nodded, taking another small bite and praying that his churning stomach would let him keep his breakfast down. It wasn’t as if it would take him long to pack. His aunt and uncle had decided there was little point in buying Harry books and uniform seeing as he wouldn’t be staying at Hogwarts for long. Not that they would have even have considered venturing into the Magical part of London, Diagon Alley, as the letter had suggested.

***

After dropping Harry at the station, Vernon drove back to Little Whining in an uncharacteristically contemplative mood. Although he liked to think of himself as a man’s man and above taking notice of any emotional mumbo-jumbo he’d almost found himself feeling sorry for his nephew when he’d left him outside the station.

He’d remembered how Petunia had comforted Dudley’s plaintive wailings when he’d started at Smeltings and had almost wished she’d came with them today. Not that she’d have accepted tears from Harry in any case. After all it was somehow different when it was your own son, and in any case it was best to ignore Harry’s emotions-just in case.

In spite of all of this Vernon had felt slightly moved as he’d left the skinny eleven year old gripping his rucksack in a white knuckled fist. The boy had looked utterly terrified, as well he might, considering the oddballs and rum sorts he’d been about to meet. Why, Vernon thought grimly, I couldn’t drive away soon enough, no one would want to be at the station with those monsters milling about...

Well there was nothing to be done. Harry was going to the only place that could possibly hope to sort him out. Vernon comforted himself as usual by telling himself he’d done the right thing by the boy and looked after him far better than any freak could hope to expect.

***

Vernon had only been home for a couple of hours, and was sat with his feet propped up in front of the telly, taking advantage of the half day he’d taken off work, when the doorbell rang. Petunia was out at one of her coffee mornings so he was forced to get up himself.

Grumbling he lumbered over to the door and opened it, his eyes widening in disbelief at the figure on the doorstep.

‘You!’ he exclaimed angrily. ‘I’ve just drove you all the way to the other side of London and now you’re back again!’

‘I’m sorry,’ Harry said in a small voice, tears glistening in his emerald eyes. ‘I don’t mean to be a nuisance but I missed the train...’

Wham. A blow to his jaw from his uncle’s clenched fist made him stagger against the wall.

‘Liar! You waited till I drove away and then set off back here. DIDN’T YOU?!’

Harry’s hand flew to cradle his sore cheek, even as he mentally acknowledged that he deserved the blow. He certainly hadn’t tried to catch the train. It wasn’t like he could have caught it even if he’d wanted to. He didn’t have a clue what Platform 9 ¾ meant and he’d also had no intention of finding out. He’d sat down despairingly outside Kings Cross Station as soon as his Uncle’s car had turned the corner. After forty minutes he’d spent every penny he had to catch a bus most of the way back to Little Whining. He’d walked the last mile, dreading seeing his uncle but knowing he had to face him.

His uncle grabbed his collar, shaking him sharply.

‘After everything we’ve done for you. This is how you repay us?!’ He released Harry abruptly causing him to fall against the wall again.

‘I can’t go there...I don’t want to be with those people,’ he whispered not daring to meet his uncle’s eyes.

‘You little...’

 Vernon socked his nephew again, this time in the stomach; Harry inhaled sharply from the pain.

‘...freak...’

He shook him again.

‘We’ve put up with you for all these years, fed you clothed despite you acting like a disgusting freak and now when you finally get the chance to learn how to stop it you dare to refuse...’

Harry felt like his teeth were rattling in his head.

‘What on earth?!’ Arriving back from her coffee morning Petunia was brought up short by the scene in front of her. Vernon was bright red in the face, breathing heavily from his exertion. Harry was a deathly pale apart from an angry mark on his chin.

Vernon let Harry go again.

‘This little shit thinks he can refuse to go to school!’

‘Harry,’ his aunt sounded immensely irritated.

 ‘He...thinks...wrong!’ His uncle shook him again.

‘Vernon, stop it. Stop it, quickly!’ Petunia cried.

His uncle let followed his wife’s glance at the loose pane of glass in the front door which had begun vibrating slightly.

He released Harry as if he was burning hot.

‘See this is what I mean!’ Vernon jabbed his thumb towards the door.

‘I’ll... I’ll go to my cupboard?’ Harry suggested shakily.

‘You do that,’ his uncle ground out.

***

Harry spent the rest of the afternoon lying in his cupboard, focusing all his efforts on reigning in his emotions. He wasn’t sure how long he lay there. At some point he managed to drift into an uneasy sleep which he was woken from by a sharp rap on the cupboard door.

‘Harry! You need to come out here,’ his uncle’s voice sounded uncomfortable.

Harry soon realised why when he obediently stepped out.

A stranger- a tall, willowy, grey haired woman dressed in a high necked navy jumper and dark grey cloak was stood in their hall way. Harry dropped his eyes abruptly to the floor.

‘May I ask why the child was in the cupboard?’ The woman demanded in a pronounced Scottish accent.

‘Because he didn’t want to go to your school,’ Vernon replied staring back at her defiantly.

‘I see,’ her tone of voice made it obvious that she clearly didn’t understand or approve of Harry’s relatives at all.

In a softer, warmer voice she turned to Harry.

‘Well, Harry, my name is Professor McGonagall and I have come to take you to Hogwarts, seeing as you didn’t manage to catch the train. You’d better get your things.’

For a crazy moment Harry dared to glance pleadingly at his aunt and uncle.

‘Harry. You’ll do as she says,’ his uncle told him threateningly.

Reluctantly Harry fetched his backpack from beside the front door.

McGonagall frowned. ‘But where are the rest of your things?’

‘This is all he needs,’ Petunia told her firmly.

McGonagall didn’t even bother to grace that comment with a response as she took the backpack and peered inside.

‘I take it you haven’t purchased the items on your list, Harry?’ she asked. ‘Have you at least managed to obtain your wand?’

Harry, his aunt and uncle all winced in unison at her casual reference to magic.

McGonagall sighed.

‘I can see we are going to miss the sorting completely at this rate...’ she said distractedly. ‘Everything else we can order by owl but you will need to be present at Ollivander’s... Come along Harry.’

‘Go on, Harry,’ his uncle told him. ‘Write to us when you’ve managed to learn something. And no more running back here till you have, do you hear me?’

Harry nodded solemnly and followed the lady out of the house.

***

Barely half an hour later McGonagall side-along apparated Harry to the gates outside Hogwarts.

Bewildered, dizzy and nauseous Harry stumbled onto his knees trying not to retch. This was the second time the professor had used that apparation thing on him and it was simply awful. First she’d taken him to see someone called Ollivander to get a wand, and there’d been no end of fuss about a Phoenix feather one being the only one which would suit him. Harry just found the whole thing sickening. He’d hoped that none of the wands would match him and the professor would decide he couldn’t be a wizard after all. Unfortunately he’d had no such luck.

Then the professor had tried to speak to him about his parents. He’d soon put a stop to that. Yes he knew all about them and how they’d died. From another wizard hurting them. From magic. He told her he didn’t want to talk about it and that was the truth. It sickened him utterly to think about it.

‘Are you alright, Harry?’ McGonagall sounded genuinely concerned as she helped him up.

‘Fine,’ he muttered.

‘We’ll need to go straight to the Headmasters,’ McGonagall told him as she pointed her wand with a blasé air at the gate which swang open.

Harry stared wide-eyed before shaking his head slightly and following her through.

‘The other new students will already have been sorted into the different Hogwarts houses,’ she told him as they walked up the long driveway to the imposing castle which loomed before them.

‘Of course, we all know which house you’re bound to be in but for forms sake we will have to go through the process...’

‘Come along, Harry,’ McGonagall said softly.

***

Several staircases later, and down a long corridor eventually they seemed to have arrived at their destination outside an enormous painting which hung on a bare wall.

‘Sugar-mice,’ McGonagall suddenly announced inexplicably.

 The portrait shifted aside.

‘Come along.’

Through the gap behind the portrait another staircase led to a door which McGonagall opened to reveal a large room where an elderly, man was sat behind a desk.

‘Ah.’

The man stood up when he saw them. He had a long white beard and his hair nearly reached his waist. His blue eyes twinkled as he stood up to greet them.

‘Harry this is the Headmaster:  Professor Dumbledore.’

 ‘Professor McGonagall. Harry. I’m very glad that you have arrived in one piece. We were most concerned when you missed the train.’

‘Are we going to sort him now?’ McGonagall asked.

‘I think that’s best. Would you be so kind as to do the honours and ask Severus, Pomona and Filius to step through for a moment?’

McGonagall nodded and headed towards the fireplace at the other end of the room.

‘It is a pleasure to meet you, Harry. I knew your parents very well in the past.’

‘Oh,’ Harry didn’t have anything to say to that.

‘You look just the image of your father, although you have do have your mother’s eyes.’

Harry’s mouth went dry. Luckily at that moment he was distracted by a roar of sound from the fireplace and a tall, dark haired man stepped out of the fire, irritably brushing soot off his sleeve.  

‘Really Headmaster.’ The man said sourly, his eyes narrowing as he glanced towards Harry. ‘I hardly think all this fanfare is necessary. I’m sure we all know where the hat will place him.’

‘Now, now, Professor Snape.’

Another roar and a plump lady with dark hair stepped out the fire. Harry stared agog.

The Headmaster reached behind his desk to fetch a battered looking hat and as he did a third rush revealed a tiny old man.

Harry was now feeling totally overwhelmed. The Headmaster handed him the hat and all the adults gathered around with the exception of the sour man who hung back a few feet as if he didn’t want to be part of whatever they were doing.

Harry held the hat in confusion. Everyone was staring at him expectantly.

Feeling worse than ever, Harry gingerly placed the hat on his head and immediately heard it talking to him.

 Hmphf.  Just as I thought huge ambition against near impossible odds the hat mused. You’re driven by a burning desire for success. Well this will not be easy and yet it does seem is the only real option as things stand.

For Harry this meant very little. All of the houses were equally disagreeable to him. For the adults who were gathered around him the decision seemed to have a far greater impact. The expression of complete shock upon Professor McGonagall’s countenance was beaten only by the utter outrage on the tall, dour faced man.

‘This...’ he said in a slow, disdainful tone, ‘has got to be some sort of mistake.’

‘Alas Slytherin!’ the plump lady chortled. ‘Well, well, well. Who would have thought it? I think we always knew the-boy-who-lived was scarcely destined for our houses,’ she glanced at the tiny man beside her, ‘but I for one certainly didn’t expect this.’

Flitwick shared a smile with her as he headed back towards the fireplace.

‘Indeed. Most unexpected, but then I suspect that is one quality we will be seeing in droves from Mr Potter here. Good evening, Headmaster, Professors.’

Standing on tiptoe to dip his hand into a small box upon the mantelpiece the small man seemed to throw something at the fire before stepping into it.

Seemingly oblivious to the glares the tall, sour man was sending her the plump woman also headed for the fire.  

As soon as they were gone McGonagall pleaded with the headmaster.

‘We could try the hat again, Headmaster.’

‘Professor McGonagall, A decision has been taken.’ Dumbledore remonstrated gently although he too seemed to be staring at the hat as if he couldn’t quite fathom its decision.

‘A Potter in Slytherin!’ The other professor muttered darkly to himself. ‘What kind of absurdity is this?’

‘Now, now, Professor Snape.’ Dumbledore chided him softly. ‘I have full confidence in your ability to act professionally and welcome Harry into your house with all the other first years.’

‘Headmaster, resolve this situation, I entreat you.’

‘Severus,’ the slight reproof had hardened slightly in the older wizard’s tone. Harry looked up at this point but immediately wished he hadn’t. It was one thing to hear Snape’s resentful tone and understand his obvious displeasure. It was another to see how much hatred and loathing burned in the black eyes which were glaring at him.

There was a pause while Harry lowered his eyes but could still feel the chill radiating in his direction. Then the Professor spoke again in a dark tone.

‘This is the most ridiculous and untenable situation. It cannot work. He clearly does not belong in my house and I tell you quite plainly that any Godric in the snake pit is likely to be bitten. Of course as that is your decision, Headmaster, I will obviously allow the situation to evolve as it will. Come Potter.’

Turning sharply the professor swept from the room with Harry having to hurry to keep up with him.

As soon as they were outside the headmaster’s room he rounded on Harry who retreated against the cold castle wall.

‘Just what distorted tales did you fabricate in there? What deceitful hyperbole did you use to convince the hat to place you in my house?’

Harry stared at him blankly.

‘I saw you muttering, Potter! Having a conversation with the hat. Why on earth would it place you in Slytherin when you are so plainly ill-suited to my house? Give me one good reason! What lies did you feed it?’

Harry shook his head wordlessly. He didn’t know anything about Slytherin apart from that he obviously wasn’t welcome there. He certainly hadn’t told the hat to put him there.

Snape loomed over him relentlessly, ‘what did it tell you, boy. Tell me!’

 ‘It said just said something about... about me having twisted logic, ill-founded loyalty and hampered bravery ...’ Harry flushed slightly, ‘so that meant I had to be in Slytherin.’

Snape’s dark eyes seemed to narrow even further and he set his lips in a tight, grim line before stalking towards a narrow stone staircase at the end of the corridor. Harry had to practically run to keep up this time. The rest of their journey was a relentless journey along numerous dark, damp corridors until they eventually drew to a stop outside a huge oil portrait with Harry panting slightly.

Snape muttered something under his breath and an apologetic looking man in old fashioned clothes appeared in the portrait all of a sudden. Harry barely had time to stare before the portrait disappeared and Snape stepped through.

‘Come,’ he snapped at Harry.

‘Where- where are we?’

Harry stepped through and stared at the enormous plush room which had several dark green sofas clad with silver and green striped cushions. Book shelves surrounded the walls at the far end of the room next to polished wooden desks. The whole impression was of a richly furnished room where no expense had been spared.

‘Slytherin common room,’ Snape said shortly in a harsh tone. ‘You will sleep in the dormitory which is first on the left there,’ he pointed to a corridor at one side of the room. ‘You will not leave either the common room or your dormitory before breakfast time tomorrow. If any prefect tells you anything in the meantime they will expect unquestioned obedience from you always, as do I.’

Harry nodded numbly, starting to move towards the dorm.

‘One more thing, Potter,’ Snape loaded Harry’s surname with such emphasis that it seemed like the most ghastly insult. ‘Most people in this establishment seem to think that you are someone special. Unfortunately most people are also fools. I will be watching your every move, so do not think that your subterfuges will be effective with me, I know your type only too well. Step out of line and I will be waiting, remember that.’

Harry nodded slightly, his expression utterly blank as he made his way to his dormitory.