Harry couldn't remember going to bed when he woke up the next morning, but he chalked it up to the over-excitement and anxiety of the previous day. It wasn't every day, after all, that you made your way to a magical castle full of ghosts, a stray poltergeist, and a Head of House who looked like he was going to do his best to make your life a living hell.

But that was for another day. He fumbled his glasses on and stumbled to the lavatory, the bare stone beneath his feet icy. No one else seemed to be awake and no wonder, it was only about six o'clock. Harry was used to rising early because of the Dursleys, though, and he simply yawned his way through a very brief, lukewarm shower before getting dressed in his new school clothes. The new fabric brought a twinge of shame. He'd hated spending all that money on new things just for him, used as he was to Dudley's hand-me-downs. But Dudley didn't exactly have wizarding robes to hand down, now did he? (Granted, if he did, Harry would be guaranteed to drown in them, since they would have roughly the same proportions as those needed for a baby whale.)

The chill in the air made Harry shiver as he made his way down to the common room. They didn't receive their schedules until breakfast, so he hadn't packed his bag yet. The only people in the common room were a few older year students, who eyed him with curious stares, automatically going to the scar that bisected his forehead. He nervously brushed his bangs over it. To think, he'd used to be proud of the damn thing, he thought irritably, flopping onto a couch by the fireplace. The flickering warmth calmed him a bit and he looked around at his new surroundings with interest.

Ron had acted like being Sorted into Slytherin meant you were automatically doomed to become a Dark Wizard and be tortured in the process, but actually, the dorms seemed quite nice. The decorating was a bit austere and formal, but it was still fairly cozy for all that. It was a bit chilly because they were, after all, in the dungeons. But there were no heads mounted by the fireplace, no Dark Arts books set out on the tables. Actually, Harry bet that except for a few minor cosmetic details, the Slytherin dorms looked exactly like the other three Houses'.

For a moment, he thought of telling Ron this and then remembered that in all likelihood, Ronald Weasley would never talk to him again. He was a "slimy snake" now, after all. His stomach churned unpleasantly and he wondered if he could skive off breakfast. But no, Professor Snape had been quite clear last night that his Snakes were to attend allmeals and if they didn't, they better be in the Hospital Wing. Harry had zero desire to meet Madam Pomfrey, particularly this soon in his school career.

"There you are," Blaise said behind him, startling him. Harry jumped and twisted, his back twinging unpleasantly, to see the slightly smirking face of his new friend. "You woke up early," Blaise plopped down on the sofa across from him, stretching across it a bit like a pampered cat.

"Um, yeah," Harry replied, awkward. "I guess it's because it's so new and all."

Blaise nodded and motioned Theodore Nott over, who perched sullenly on the sofa next to Harry. His hair was untidy and stuck up in the back, much like Harry's. He looked exhausted, and Harry wondered if Nott had gotten any sleep last night. It didn't look it.

"First day jitters?" Blaise asked in almost a jovial tone. Harry shrugged, not knowing what to say. He wasn't used to people actually wanting to talk to him. In his old school, Dudley had made more than sure that no one dared talk to him or suffer the wrath of Dudley's gang. He was actually relieved as the common room filled up and it was time to go to breakfast.

Blaise didn't seem at all fazed by Harry's desultory and stilted attempts at conversation, which both surprised and delighted Harry. Maybe he could make an actual friend here, someone that had no idea of the consequences of befriending Harry, who wouldn't be thrown off or disgusted by Harry's "freakiness." There was no Dudley here, no Uncle Vernon or Aunt Petunia. It was something altogether new and brilliant, and the thought crossed Harry's mind for the first time that maybe, just maybe, he had found a place to belong.

A hope that was dashed the instant he stepped into the Great Hall and found himself confronting the Weasley boy, who told him in no uncertain terms that he must be worse than You Know Who to actually get placed into Slytherin, and that he disgusted Ron.

For a moment, he felt like he was going to black out and sharply pinched himself. He couldn't black out now. Not with Ron's fiercely scarlet face right in front of him, his face matching the color of his hair. But Harry couldn't seem to say anything either, like his throat had locked up.

And then, suddenly, he could.

His face relaxed into an expression bordering on insolence, but not quite tipping over, stance easing into one slightly combative, rather than the frozen, hunched-over posture Harry had adopted upon seeing the anger in Ron's face.

"You know, Ron, for someone who claims to be brave, you're certainly showing off the brash stupidity that seems common in your House," he found himself saying in a slight drawl. "Not to mention your ignorance. You Know Who killed my parents, remember? I would never join him or have any interest in supplanting him as the next Dark Lord. Do work on hiding your prejudices better, would you?"

And he made his way calmly, on legs that felt like stilts, to the Slytherin table.