The Snake in Gryffindor Tower by Captn-Fedora

“Better be- SLYTHERIN!”

The silence was deafening. Harry could feel the shocked eyes of the hundreds of students on him, the sharp intake of breath from professor McGonagall at his side. He swallowed, hard around the thick lump in his throat, and opened his eyes.

He found Ron in the crowd, his freckled face and narrow nose scrunched in a mixture of confusion and disgust. A girl next to him had her mouth open in an almost comical ‘oh’. Another student whipped his head from Harry to his friend and back toward Harry again, shock clear in the way his eyebrows stretched above his hairline.

Just as quick as the silence fell, it ended, quieted all at once by the Slytherins. Harry’s heart pounded, the sound even louder in his head than the claps and cheers of ‘Potter!’ coming from the left table. McGonagall cleared her throat and, her hesitation tangible, lifted the sorting hat from his head.

Harry’s knees shook as he slid off the stool and slowly made his way over to his new house. He sighed and sat on the edge of the bench, an older boy quick to slide over to make room. He clapped an arm around Harry’s shoulders and grinned, “Good to have you, Potter.”

Harry flinched before he could stop himself. “Thanks.” He smiled weakly and tried to cover his stutter with a cough, though he wasn’t sure how effective it was.

Names continued to be called (Dean Thomas, Gryffindor; Lisa Turpin, Ravenclaw) but Harry paid little attention. He had hoped for Gryffindor, like his parents had been, Hagrid had said, but Harry didn’t feel he had the courage the house seemed to be known for. So he had thought he’d be placed in Hufflepuff. He was good, wasn’t he? Kind?

Everything Hagrid had told him said that Slytherin was bad, that it was the home of every dark wizard, You-Know-Who included. Even Ron had said- oh no. Harry shot his head up just as his red-headed friend pulled the hat down. It only took a few moments before the hat announced “GRYFFINDOR!” to the hall and Harry felt his stomach drop.

There was no way Ron would want to be his friend now that Harry was in Slytherin. He watched as Ron quickly found his brothers at the table, his large smile dropping when he looked up and met Harry’s gaze.

He looked away fast, turning to laugh at something his brother said, but Harry couldn’t shake off the shame he felt.

A moment later the sorting was over and the headmaster, Harry recognized him from the moving card on the train, stood to clear his throat. “Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak!” The boy next to him snorted and Harry frowned, what did that mean? Was it important? Some secret wizard-only joke that he didn’t understand? He looked down the long table for another reaction when he gasped.

In the moment it took for him to blink, the table had filled with foods of all sorts. He saw roast beef, sausages, pork chops, bacon, kidney pies, yorkshire puddings. The further he looked, the more there was.

Harry could hardly keep his mouth from watering as he watched all the students grab at the rolls and scoop potatoes onto their plates. He glanced up, neck stretching to see the other tables. The staff table and other three houses were all buried under the fountains of food, everyone devouring their servings.

“Don’t you want anything, Potter?”

Harry winced as the boy nudged his shoulder, jostling his still sore bruise. “You can have whatever you’d like, you know.” The boy continued, using his fork to point to a platter of treacle tart, smirked and lowered his voice, “They won’t know if you have only dessert either.”

Harry licked his lips; he had always wanted to try treacle tart. And maybe the boy was right, maybe his aunt and uncle wouldn’t know he had any before everyone had finished. But if they did- Harry shook his head. He couldn’t risk being caught breaking one of the most important rules on his first day.

His relatives had always made sure that he thoroughly finished all of his chores for the day before he could have anything to eat, and when he did earn something it was nothing compared to the feast before him. No, Harry decided. He would be good. This was a new start for him, an escape from the Dursleys and he wasn’t about to ruin it all so fast. Not if he could help it.

The boy gave him an odd look before turning away, muttering something too low for him to hear. Harry took in a deep breath to steady himself, hoping he hadn’t caused the boy too much trouble when he sat next to him. That was rule number one: don’t cause any problems of any sort. Harry had always seemed to have the most trouble with that one, no matter how hard he tried to be good.

Uncle Vernon thought Harry was bad at following all of the rules, though. “We’ve laid them all out for you, boy, why can’t you damn follow them?” Harry hadn’t said what he wanted to: that the rules were always changing, new ones being added all the time. No, that would’ve broken rule number two: don’t talk back, which, Harry quickly learned, truly meant don’t talk at all.

The smell of baked chicken caused Harry’s stomach to growl and he felt his face flush warm. He hadn’t eaten in days, not since the peanut butter sandwich the morning before he burned Dudley’s bacon last week. It hadn’t even been Harry’s fault! Not really, at least. Dudley was shouting about his broken r.c. car and threw the remote, startling Harry. The grease burn still stung if he turned his wrist too sharply.

Harry frowned at himself; he should have been paying more attention, maybe then he would’ve had a nice dinner the night before. Or at least another peanut butter sandwich. His stomach growled again and Harry wrapped his small arms around his middle.

“Here.” The boy swapped the plate in front of Harry with another’s and Harry watched with wide eyes as he placed the new one down, the chicken still steaming. There was a small mountain of peas and two rolls already buttered, a cup of gravy and a yorkshire pudding sliding around as it settled. “Eat it.”

Harry swallowed and looked up through his fringe. Was he really allowed to eat all of that? As if reading his mind, a girl across the table nodded with a smile, a silver badge shining on her robe. “It’s not poisoned, I promise.”

His hand shaking, Harry picked up a roll and, glancing once more to the boy for approval, took a bite. The butter melted in his mouth as he chewed the soft roll, swallowing around the too big of bite. Quickly he took a second, third, fourth bite until it was gone before anyone could tell him otherwise.

He went to start on the other roll but stopped, choosing to hide it in his pocket instead. It wouldn’t do good for him to eat it all now and be hungry in a few days, he knew. It’d be better to save it, it tasted better like that anyway, all spread out and cherishable.

Instead, he picked up his fork and scooped a small pile of potatoes into his mouth. He tried the chicken next, even going as far as to pour some of the gravy onto it. He figured if he was going to get in trouble for eating it all later, he might as well have had more than just bread and peas.

It was so good, the best he had ever had! Not thinking about his aunt’s rules of etiquette in his excitement, Harry shoveled the chicken into his mouth until he couldn’t eat anymore and then took one more bite, just to be sure. He didn’t think he’d ever been so full in his life.

He wished he still had the old toy tool box of Dudley’s he had rinsed out and used to store his stolen bits of food in, hidden under the lowest step in his cupboard. There was still more chicken on his plate and the entire pie he didn’t want to waste. But that wasn’t something he could keep in his robe like the roll.

A few more minutes passed and Harry gratefully drank from a cool glass of pumpkin juice, the girl with the shiny badge had poured and passed it to him, before the headmaster dismissed them all to their dorms for the night.

Harry looked around anxiously as everyone got to their feet, where were they going? And where was his luggage? His owl? The boy nudged him as he had before, “Stay close to Gemma.” He said before leaving the hall with the others.

Badge shining brightly as she stood, the girl spoke loud and clearly, “Alright first years, I’m Gemma Farley, one of your prefects. You’ll be following me down to the Slytherin common room.” Harry stumbled, rushing to stand and keep up as she led them all out of the hall. He heard something that sounded like his name but ignored it, keeping as close to the girl as he could.

“Potter!” A hand grabbed the sleeve of robe and Harry gasped and spun around, somehow expecting his uncle to be standing there. But it wasn’t Vernon or even Dudley, instead it was the blonde boy Harry had seen on the train before. What had his name been, Draco?

The boy huffed and let go of Harry to straighten his own robe, “I was trying to get your attention.” He shoved out his hand with a smirk, the same way Harry had seen his uncle do with business men, “Welcome to Slytherin.”

Slowly, Harry grasped his hand, “Th-thank you, Draco.”

Draco grinned and started walking, looking back when Harry didn’t follow. “Come on, Potter, you don’t want to get to the common room after Snape does, do you?”

. . . . .

Now with Draco at his side, Harry carefully worked his way through the crowd of other first years to be next to Gemma, just as the boy had told him to.

Behind him a girl gasped and another whispered, “I thought my mum was kidding!” Gemma looked up and laughed, “Yes, the staircases do actually move.” Then, quieter, “And you’ll tire of it quick enough.” Harry stumbled over himself as he looked up at the stairs (they really were moving!), trying hard to keep the brisk pace.

Fortunately, the steps in the dungeons stayed put as they made their way down at least three flights. Finally, Gemma stopped in front of a solid stone wall. She turned to face them all.

“This, little snakes, is a wall you will do well to remember: the entrance to our common room. It will reveal itself only to those who know the password, so make sure you remember that, too. This first week, the password is ‘Salazar’ in honor of our founder, of course.”

Just as she said the word, the bricks began to fold away, making an archway the same way the wall did behind the pub Hagrid took him to. Just as he had then, Harry watched in awe.

They followed Gemma in and found the room already had several others in it, older students reuniting after the summer’s holiday.

Once everyone had entered, the wall fitted itself back together like an automatic puzzle and Gemma faced them all.

“Right. This-” She gestured around the round room, “is our common room. We have few, but important, rules here. Firstly, only those in Slytherin house are allowed inside. Each house has their own common room, similarly concealed like our own is, and is forbidden to be entered by anyone from another house. That’s school rules.

“Aside from that, our Head of House- Professor Snape, who you’ll meet shortly -has implemented the rest. He prefers to explain most of those himself, though.”

She stopped to clear her throat and moved over to where a large board fit between two arching windows.

“As you can see, our common room is below the surface level of water which gives us this gorgeous view into the black lake. It’s pretty common that we see the giant squid swim past, on occasion merfolk pass by, not to mention the countless other creatures. Most of us find it soothing to sleep and study to. And don’t worry,” She knocked, hard, against the window, “the glass is just as protected as the rest of the castle; it’s charmed to never break or crack
.
“Just here,” She tapped a silver plaque attached to the stone, “are the complete list of House Rules. Each one you break will be met with a punishment personally handed out by Professor Snape.” As Gemma gave them all a stern look, Harry almost gave a sigh of relief; he knew how to follow rules, especially when they were all written out like that for him to study.

“This, here, is our notice board. It updates quite often so be sure to pay attention to it. You can always find the common room password here; make sure to check it often as it changes every Sunday night.” She tapped the slip of charmed emerald parchment, elegant silver letters spelling out Salazar. “The password is important, remember it. Otherwise you’ll find yourself with a cold bottom and a detention to serve.” Swallowing hard, Harry tried to burn the word into his mind, promising himself to always know the password.

“Other things go here too, as you can see: Quidditch schedules, which, no, first years can’t yet try-out for; tutoring and study groups; information on any clubs formed; the ranks from chess tournaments; and logs of any books you borrow from our library.

“Now,” She sighed as she faced the group of first years, all staring up at her with wide, attentive eyes. “I know the professor will touch on this but I’d like to as well.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard the rumors already, might’ve even told some yourself. Slytherin house has a dark cloud of myths surrounding it, but most of that isn’t true.”

Harry listened closely as she spoke, clingy onto every word.

“Yes, we have produced our share of dark wizards and many of us do find interest in the dark arts- but the other houses do, too. The difference is they don’t like admitting it, they’re ashamed of it. So don’t listen to the others when they say we’re ‘bad’, as we’re no worse than any of them. Truthfully, I’d say we’re better for that.” Her smile was so warm that it made Harry smile, too.

“You all heard McGonagall when she told you that your house is your family. Regardless of whether that’s true in the other houses, in Slytherin, it is.”

“Well spoken, Ms.Farley.”

Harry jumped at the new voice, turning sharply to find the source. He hadn’t even noticed anyone enter and, by the way Draco swore next to him, he doubted many others did either.

The man was tall and cloaked in dark black from his curtain of dark hair to the way his robe swirled around him. He moved like a shadow; silent and swift to the front of the room.

Harry didn’t know whether to feel fearful or protected to have the man in charge of his house.

“In this house, you will act like brothers to another because you are.” Professor Snape paused, making contact with each of the first years before speaking again. “In your classes and through the halls, the other students will not be your friends. They will fear you and will therefore dislike you. You will not treat each other with such distaste.”

Each word was said with a deep emphasis, a pause carefully placed between them in a way that locked your attention onto him.

“Within the walls of this room only are you to show any sense of disputation or distrust amongst each other. You need not give yourself or your fellow snakes any more trouble than you will unquestioningly face.” Harry shivered as the professor’s dark eyes met his own again. He would need to try especially to keep on this man’s good side, he gathered.

“As a family,” The professor continued, “you will assist another. There are scheduled study groups for whichever class you find you struggle in. Use them. Slytherins do not fail. We are a successful house. You will use your resources.

“There,” He lifted a long arm and pointed to a cabinet Harry had yet to notice. “You should find any necessities you may need. You are free to, and encouraged to, use the materials within. If there is something you cannot find inside, you may come to any of your prefects or myself for assistance.

“As a general rule, you will do well to stay out of trouble and not lose any house points. We have won the house cup the past six years, I intend to keep it that way.” There was a long pause of silence before he spoke again, this time with an air of exhaustion. “Do not ask the Baron where his bloodstains came from.”

He paused at the entrance and bid them ‘Goodnight’, his cloak giving a final, exaggerated billow as he left. Just as before, he didn’t make a sound.

Harry watched the door for another moment before turning back to face Gemma. She smiled at all of them, “He’s quite intimidating.” An older student still in the room snorted and she shot a silencing look at him. “He’s much kinder than he seems to us Slytherins. If there’s any member of staff that will take you at your word, it’s Snape. I promise.” Harry thought her eyes seemed to linger on him as she said that, but she was quick to finish were introduction.

“Anyway, it is getting late and you- we -all have big days tomorrow. I’ll lead you girls up and Damian Perriss will show you boys where to go.”

Harry watched the boy who had laughed a moment ago stand from the charcoal sofa, the leath crying softly as he did, and nodded toward an archway. “It’s down here, boys.”

Harry, Draco, and four other boys Harry didn’t know yet all followed down the spiral staircase, stopping at the third door down. “This room is yours; it will be for the next seven years, too, so do well to take care of it. All of your luggage should be inside already, and your robes should be embellished with the Slytherin emblem. If you have any issues, come and find me in that room.”

Damian gave them a final goodnight before going back up a few steps and going in the room he had indicted as his own.

“Do you think we pick our own beds?” The tallest of them wondered, a boy with dark skin and a tightly cropped haircut. Draco pushed open the door and entered swiftly. “No,” The boy answered himself, following Draco with long strides, “We do not.” Harry watched as he started loosening his tie, slipping it from his neck and placed it on the side table next to the bed labeled “Zabini, Blaise”.

Another boy, Theodore Nott, plucked the plaque off of his bed and shoved it in the pocket of his robe before opening his armoire and pulling out a set of flannel pajamas. “I don’t know about any of you,” He said, “But I’m going to shower and go to sleep.”

Harry wondered how he even knew where the shower was, but Theodore opened a thick door between his and Gregory Goyle’s beds and disappeared behind it. Gregory and Vincent Crabbe followed him, their own sleepwear in their arms.

“Are you planning on sleeping in the doorway, Potter?” Draco teased, smirking. He was busy hanging up his robe when Harry turned to face him, only then spotting the bed labeled as “Potter, Harry”.

It was a massive, four poster bed with two sets of curtains framing it. The first was a dark gray, the same as most of the furniture Harry noticed in the common room, and a sheer, silk emerald one draped over that. There were three pillows resting against the tall headboard and Harry didn’t think even Dudley had a warmer blanket than the heavy green one that laid flat over his bed.

His bed. There was no way this was really his; the label must have been wrong. But no- Harry turned to read the rest again, each of the five other beds already marked for another boy, bar Theodore. Harry took a tentative step toward the bed, sure that this was a trick, that it couldn’t stay going so well for this long.

But there it was. The suitcase he and Hagrid had gotten sat next to the bed pronounced as Harry’s, a dresser matching the rest next to the side table that was his.

The drawer to the table slid open easily and Harry found a small journal resting inside. With a glance to make sure Draco didn’t notice, Harry shoved his stolen roll inside and closed it quickly.

He reached up and opened the door of armoire, shocked to find that it wasn’t empty. Instead, the other sets of robes he had bought were each neatly hung up, next to them were striped Slytherin vests and crisp button downs. A clean pair of green pajamas hanging on the end, plaid pants and a snake on the shirt. Harry was quick to stand on his toes and pull them off the hangar- they even looked like they would fit him!

He shut the doors and dropped to his knees, pulling out the drawers one at a time.

The first two were filled. A stack of pants were folded on one half of the first drawer, on the other side a collection of white, gray, and green t-shirts. The next one down had underwear and matching socks, ones not littered with holes and two sizes too big. The last drawer was left empty, eager to be filled with things Harry had brought from home. He was quick to close that one, not wanting to think about how little things he even owned.

When he turned back around, he noticed everyone readying themselves for the days to come, decorating their small spaces: Blaise was setting a framed photo on his bedside table; Vincent and Gregory, now dressed in matching flannels, were setting away books and supplies; Draco was hanging up what looked like an incredibly expensive cloak next to the other robes he had put away.

Harry wished he had things to put up, but he hadn’t even thought about bringing the few things from his cupboard. He figured it probably wasn’t good to start his new life by lining his table with crooked army men or sleeping with the thin, ripped up blanket he used each night.

Taking a careful breath, Harry decided Theodore’s plan to shower was a good idea. He carried his (his!) pajamas and entered the bathroom.

Granite tiles covered the floor and walls, a plush green rug resting in front of the door. There were three stalled toilets, three sinks each with their own grand mirrors, and three shower areas, an emerald curtain blocking them off.

Harry rushed into the one closest to the wall, leaving the one between him and Theodore empty. He pulled the curtain close and took a breath, resting his glasses and clean pajamas on the stone bench inside. His. He smiled.

Making fast work of the clasp on his now Slytherin edged robe, Harry folded it and placed it next to the flannels. He didn’t have any idea how wizards did their washing and didn’t plan on doing it every night if he could help it. He could rewear his school clothes at least three times if he needed, he figured.

As he turned the shower on, Harry felt calm. The water was too hot, scalding his back and the still open cuts and lashes his uncle had given him; he didn’t care though, he felt clean. He hadn’t gotten a warm shower in- Harry couldn’t even remember. Years, it must’ve been. He got by on quick washes with the freezing water left after his aunt, uncle, and cousin had finished. Or, much more often than that, with a wet towel in the middle of the night.

There was no soap in the stall, Harry realized too late, but he didn’t mind much. He was used to less. He scrubbed his hands over his body until he felt raw and dipped his head down to rinse the grime out of his hair. He froze as he heard the door open, but he heard no footsteps and guessed Theodore must have left.

Quickly, not wanting to waste too much time, Harry shut off the water. He shook his head out, feeling like a dog in the rain, and wrapped the towel around himself. It was so soft, softer than any blanket he had ever touched.

Harry dried himself as best as he could, though his hair stayed damp, and hung the towel back up to dress. As he picked up the flannel shirt, he noticed something in the collar and squinted through the droplets on his glasses. It took a moment but eventually he made it out: Property of H. Potter.

His hands fumbled as he did up the buttons, an emotion he couldn’t label taking over.

After he hung his robes with the others and placed his shoes just under his bed, Harry crawled under the covers. Someone had turned the light out already so he stared at the ceiling, trying to make out the shapes in the brick. Tears pricked at his eyes and he blinked hard.

This was a good thing, he told himself even though he already knew it was. He had eaten, real food, too! More than just a stale peanut butter sandwich or the scraps of crisps left on Dudley’s plate. And was clean and dressed in pajamas with his name in the collar lying in a bed done up for him. Hogwarts would be good, he smiled. Hogwarts could be home.

For the first time Harry could remember,he slept easily to the sounds of at least two of his roommates snoring and the water lapping gently at the window.