- Chapter 9 -

Head Of House

Harry woke early at the sound of the dormitory door creaking open. He sat up in bed and opened his curtains a crack to see Marcus Flint creeping in through the doorway, wand in hand. The older boy gestured for Harry to put his fingers in his ears, and then swished his wand.

A loud wailing sound echoed through the room, provoking loud groans, and Harry fancied he heard one loud thump as someone fell out of bed.

“Rise and shine boys!” Marcus grinned before cancelling the spell. “Hey, Harry, make sure you and Draco are upstairs in five. I’m told Camélia will be waiting for you in the common room.” Harry nodded to show Marcus he understood and turned to his trunk to get out some clothes. He paused, looking between his usual clothes and school clothes, unsure of which to wear. Luckily, Marcus began to call out instructions again. “School uniforms, robes included, we’ll do a head count before we leave the common room, but watch where you’re going so you can learn.”

Harry grinned at his good fortune and hastily scrambled into his school clothes. He noticed with some amusement that all of his clothes were now embellished with the Slytherin logo. His white shirt, grey jumper, formerly white tie and (for some unknown reason) his new black socks now sported the green and sliver insignia.

Once Harry had dressed himself, taking a few moments to knot his tie correctly, he pulled his curtains completely open, expecting the others to be doing the same, however to his consternation all of them were snoring. Harry smirked, and took a deep breath.

“EVERYBODY UP!” he shouted as loudly as he could. There was a yelp, several groans, and another thump as somebody (presumably the same person as earlier) fell out of bed. He grinned and headed into the door that Theo had come from the previous night. As he had guessed, it was a bathroom. Harry brushed his teeth and washed his face fairly quickly, wondering what to do if none of the others were up yet.

As Harry walked back into the dormitory, he noticed only one bed with the curtains closed; Blaises’s. Harry grabbed Draco’s arm, and pointed at Blaise’s bed.

“Let’s scream in his ear!” Draco suggested in a whisper. Harry nodded, and the two boys slipped through the curtains quietly.

“Three, two, one…” Harry counted.

“MORNING BLAISE!” shouted Draco, at the same time as Harry yelled, “GET UP BLAISE!” Blaise jumped and fell out of bed with an inarticulate shout. His dark eyes glared at them both as he got to his feet.

“Hating you both right now,” he mumbled as he stumbled off into the bathroom.

“Hey, Vince?” Harry called across the room. “Make sure he doesn’t drown in the shower or anything, will you? We’ve got somewhere to be.”

“Yeah,” Draco drawled, “a beautiful woman awaits!” Harry and Draco shared a smirk as they exited the room and climbed up the many stairs, encountering few other students on their way up. As they entered the common room they saw it was nearly empty, except for a group of students playing chess. Camélia sat on the arm of one of the chairs, gesturing at a piece on the board. The boy whose chair she was sitting on tilted his head in defeat and apparently did as she said.

“Harry!” She waved a manicured hand in their direction. “Draco! Over here, my darlings!” She stood as they approached and enfolded them both in her arms. “Now don’t mind my accent when we see the Professor, I’ll explain afterwards. Just give me a moment to work myself up, and then leave everything to me.” Camélia fluttered her hands in front of her eyes leaving Harry and Draco looking at each other confused.

“Getting a good head start on the Gryffindors already?” The boy at the chess board asked good-naturedly. “Don’t worry about it, Camélia’s brilliant.”

“Erm, thanks.” Harry replied, running a hand through his hair absentmindedly, before Camélia grabbed a hold of his hand and pulled him and Draco towards a small door that Harry hadn’t noticed the previous night. She rapped on it smartly with the hand that held Draco’s hand and was rewarded with a terse, “Enter” in a gruff voice.

“Proffesseur!” she cried as she entered, the two boys being dragged behind her, exchanging a glance at the obvious French accent. “Professeur, I ‘ave ‘eard ze most terrible thing! You poor things!” She looked back at Harry, then Draco with wide doe-eyes.

“What, precisely, is this ‘terrible thing’, Miss Gladiolus?” The man at the desk asked shortly without lifting his hand away from his eyes. His dark hair, reminiscent of Blaise’s, hung lankly over skin as pale as Draco’s. What could be seen of his robes were also black, and his mouth was twisted into a fierce scowl.

“Zey have been attacked!” Camélia exclaimed. “On zeir first day ‘ere too! In ze school and on ze train.” The Professor lifted his head slowly and sighed. His eyes snapped open, revealing two endless pools of obsidian. They first ran over Camélia’s face, and then to her left, to Draco.

“Draco,” the corner of his mouth curved up into a half-smile, before his eyes flicked back over Camélia, to Harry. “Mister Potter.”

“Godfather,” Draco replied.

“Professor Snape,” Harry rightly remembered.

“Who was attacked, and by whom?” Snape asked tartly. Camélia answered swiftly that it was Harry who had been attacked, but his eyes didn’t leave Harry once.

“Mister Potter, you will stay. Draco, Miss Gladiolus, you may wait for your friend in the common room or go to breakfast as you wish,” he said after a moment’s pause.

“We will wait,” Camélia told him, gently releasing Harry’s hand. “I would not leave you on your own - what if something else were to ‘appen?” Draco and Camélia exited the room, leaving Harry alone with the scowling Professor.

“Mister Potter, why were you attacked?” Snape narrowed his eyes marginally as he observed the boy in front of him, gesturing for Harry to sit in the chair on the other side of the desk.

“As far as I can tell, because I refused to sit with somebody on the train. And because I defended my friendship with Draco and his parents.” Harry replied.

“Explain fully, please. From the beginning.”

“Well, I was on the train with Draco when a boy with red hair came in. He recognised me, I’m not sure how. He recognised Draco, too, but he didn’t seem to like the fact I was sharing a compartment with Draco. He said he was Ron Weasley, and that Draco was a piece of scum and that I should go and sit with him.” Harry drew breath and looked up at the Professor, whose eyebrows had drawn together in a frown. “He insulted Draco’s parents, and then he punched me. Twice.”

“And the other time?” The older man was nearly growling now, one hand fluidly taking short notes with a quill on a piece of parchment on the desk.

“It was when we were on our way to the common room, Professor. Draco and I were looking at a painting when we heard voices behind us. There were two twins there, they said they were Weasley’s brothers. They said something about me not getting on with him on the train, and then they tried to cast a spell at me.”

“Tried?”

“Terrence Higgs came, and he stopped them. They ran off after that though.”

“Where did the younger brother punch you?”

“My nose and my stomach.”

“Stand.” The professor stood too and pulled his wand from a holster on his wrist. “Aperio vulnero!” he intoned, flicking his wand up Harry’s body.

Harry watched with interest as a replica of his body appeared in front of him, sections coloured in reds, oranges and blues. Most of the figure was in red and orange, with only small sections in blue.

“He did hit me, sir. I just heal quickly.” At Snape’s slightly confused look, Harry elaborated. “I mean, this shows where I’m hurt, right?” The Professor nodded slowly. “Which would make the blue parts the parts that are… damaged. Although I don’t think I’ve ever hurt my ears, or my hands very badly.” Harry looked up at his Professor and was startled to see the man moving around the table slowly.

He faced the apparition and waved his wand slowly in a circle, making it turn. He drew in a sharp breath when he saw the back, and his eyes glinted dangerously. He waved his wand once more, and it disappeared. He leaned back against his desk and seemed to think for a minute before speaking.

“Mister Potter, I must apologise to you,” Snape said slowly, his voice not nearly as even as it had been. “When you came into this office, I wrongly assumed you to be like your father. You are not. You have suffered more in your tender years than many people suffer in their entire lives, and I fear that there may be more suffering in your future.” He ran a hand across his face, grimacing as he did so. “Mr Potter, the blue areas on the body represent the undamaged parts of your body.”

Harry drew in a sharp breath as he thought back to the body. His back had been the brightest red, followed closely by his chest and his rear. His entire head had been orange, and his legs were orange with red patches. With a sinking stomach, Harry realised that they were the places he had last had bruises.

“You didn’t show too much magical ability before you got your letter, did you, Mister Potter?” Harry shook his head slowly. “When you focused your will?” Harry nodded. Snape smiled wryly. “I think that you’re strong. I think that you’re very strong. And I think that if your magic hadn’t been in constant use healing you, you would have done extraordinary things.” Snape sighed slowly. “I don’t suppose that whoever visited you noticed what they were doing to you?”

“No,” Harry said slowly. “But Hagrid did cast a spell at my Uncle that made pink smoke appear. Funny thing is, a few days later he grew a pig’s tail.” Snape snorted and grinned.

“If I were you, I wouldn’t mention that to anyone,” he suggested with a wink. “You have Potions with me last lesson, if you stay after I’ll have a few potions for you that should help you clear things out. And on Tuesday nights I have a session for students like you, who have been mistreated, which you will be expected to attend until I deem fit. Now go to breakfast.” Harry hesitated a moment, seeming to half-turn away.

“You said I was strong, Professor…” Harry began slowly.

“Yes I did, Mister Potter. As you heard it, I trust your hearing is not impaired.”

“I… well… What does that mean?”

“There are… boundaries that define magical power as we know it, Mister Potter, with twelve distinct power ranges. There are Muggles, like your Aunt and Uncle, who have no magical power, then there are Latents, two of whom together can give birth to a magical child. Next there are Squibs, who have enough power to be recognized by magical creatures and constructs, but not enough to wield power.

“Most students, when they begin schooling at Hogwarts are at a Warlock level, most advance from this, however some do not have the capacity to do so, hence Warlock is used as an insult. The next two stages are Illusionist, and Conjurer, the main difference in power here relating to being able to actually conjure items. The next power band is Sorcerers, who can usually perform slightly more advanced magic, Magical Britain mostly consists of Sorcerers. Then comes Shaman, who have the power to become involved in rituals.

“After that is an Adept, adepts seem to have a more natural grasp of magical concepts, and can bend much magic to their will. The next two, Mage and Magus are particularly similar. Mages and Magus have the same amount of power, but a Magus can also draw some power from their surroundings. The final boundary is that of a Thaumaturge, who can draw power from people around them. Merlin was the last known Thaumaturge.” The Professor had entered ‘lecture mode’ at around his second sentence. Harry wished he’d had a piece of paper to write it all down on.

“So… what am I?” Harry asked. As he was clearly at Hogwarts, he was obviously at least a Warlock, but other than that, he really didn’t know…

“Somewhere near the border between Illusionist and Conjurer, I would imagine. Now, I believe your friends are waiting for you in the common room.” The Professor looked down, to his papers, signalling the conversation was over.

“Sir, the Gryffindors?” Harry asked slyly, just before he left, hand on the doorknob, half-turned towards the desk.

“Fifty points and a week’s detention apiece, I think.” Harry reached for the door handle again, only to pause at the Professor’s voice once more, thought with a tone of wry amusement this time. “And do tell Miss Gladiolus that I don’t ever want to see her before I’ve had my morning coffee, won’t you, Mr Potter?”

“Yes, Professor.” Harry turned the handle and exited into a much more full common room. Draco was sitting in the nearest armchair, with Camélia perched on the arm, chattering happily. He wove his way through the other students nearby to get closer to them.

 “…et vous le voyez, avec les cheveux bruns? Il est le meilleur chasseur sur notre équipe.” Camélia nodded towards a tall boy with a similarly dark haired girl hanging from his waist.

 “Oui? C'est une honte que les premiers étudiants d'année ne peuvent pas concurrencer, j'ont a toujours voulu jouer le chasseur.” Draco replied fluently. “Oh, hi Harry!” he said, waving as he noticed his friend. “It took you long enough, I’m starving!” He smiled charmingly. “Camélia has offered to take us, vous avez-pas, ma petite fleur?”

 “Now, now, Draco. Parlez-vous en français quelle nous sommes seuls.” Camélia turned to Harry and slipped her arm in his. “Come on then, I suppose you’re hungry as well? I will show you to the Great Hall. See if you can work out the way as we go.”

Camélia led Draco and Harry from the common room, telling them little anecdotes about people as they went on their way.

“That girl there, with the bow in her hair, she’s probably not coming back after this year. Her brother died in an accident over the summer, so she’s going to have to marry.

“That boy with spiky hair you met last night, Paulie Gamp, is one of the best duellists in the school. Some of the curses he knows are so brilliant!

“That Ravenclaw girl there, she’s called Sapphire Li. She’s the Head Girl this year. Thankfully Terrence doesn’t have to put up with one of the Gryffindors. In my first year that happened. There was a Slytherin Head Girl, and a Gryffindor Head Boy. It was terrible, they completely refused to speak to each other by the end of the second term!” She kept up a near constant patter about those students they passed on their way into the hall.

Harry looked to the ceiling as he and Draco sat with the other first years, it was a clear blue with just a few wispy clouds making their way across. He groaned at the sight of yet more rich food, taking only a small bowl of cereal to eat, with a glass of warm milk. On his left, Blaise ate like a pig, his plate piled high, food constantly in his mouth. To his right, the food on Draco’s plate was a relatively small amount, which he ate with dignity and then reached back out for second and third helpings.

As they ate, Terrence Higgs appeared next to them, a pile of parchments in his hands. He peered at them with a frown on his face.

“I don’t really know any of you, so I’m just going to call names out. Grab the timetable if it’s yours.” He looked down to the first one. “Millicent Bulstrode?” A slightly chubby girl leaned forwards a little nervously and took the proffered parchment. He handed out several more before reaching Draco’s, which he handed to the blonde haired boy without saying the name. He did the same with Harry, after winking and looking at the Gryffindor hourglass above the head table, which read negative one hundred and fifty.

Harry unrolled the parchment with some trepidation. He already knew that he had Potions last lesson, thanks to Professor Snape, but other than that, he had no idea.

 Monday (Week One)

 Transfiguration

 Defence Against The Dark Arts

 Charms

 History Of Magic

 Potions

 Potions

 

Harry grimaced at his list - it seemed he’d be having a lot of double lessons, and some of the subjects he hadn’t even heard of! There hadn’t been any books listed for Magical Sports, nor any for Domestic Magic. Marcus Flint appeared over his left shoulder.

“Oooh, Transfiguration first thing! See that woman up there with the bun and the glasses? That’s McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor, and Transfiguration Professor.” Marcus paused to point, smirking as all of the first years raised their heads to look. “She’s strict, so behave in her lessons, and for Merlin’s sake do her homework assignments. If she takes points from Slytherin, she’ll take loads. What’s next?” He looked round.

“Defence Against The Dark Arts,” a girl said after a moment. Harry vaguely remembered her being sorted the previous night, and rather fancied her name began with a ‘P’.

“Right, that’ll be Quirrell, then. Not really sure why he’s here, he taught Muggle Studies a few years back, he was supposedly a bit of a pushover.” Marcus frowned slightly.

“He’s really nervy too. He’s got a bad stutter,” Harry offered. “I met him in the summer.”

“Didn’t know he stuttered,” Marcus mused. “Could have some fun with that. What next?”

“Charms,” said the pug-faced girl again.

“Great. You’re a Parkinson, right?” The girl nodded in agreement.

“Pansy,”

“Okay then Pansy. Charms is fine. That’s Flitwick, the really short one. You learn some good stuff there. He’s the Head of Ravenclaw, too. Next?”

“History of Magic,” Blaise cut in before Pansy.

“The most boring lesson you will ever have. Binns. He’s not up there, he’s a ghost. Your best bet is to find a way of getting notes from one of the Ravenclaws, or the Hufflepuffs. Nice nap time, though. Next?”

“Double Potions,” Harry offered, without looking at his timetable. “With Professor Snape, right?”

“Bang on, Harry.” Marcus grinned. “Potions is the best lesson you’ll have, and I swear I’m not saying that just because our esteemed Professor is within earshot.” Harry looked up in shock, to see the man himself smirking wryly at Marcus.

“Three points to Slytherin, Mister Flint.” He turned to a group of fourth years nearby. “Messers Bole, and Derrick, you are excused from the first five minutes of your Potions lesson to show the first years to their Transfiguration lesson. Messers Warrington and Montague, you are excused from the last five minutes of your Potions lesson, to show the first years from Transfiguration to Defence Against The Dark Arts.” He raised his voice, and looked down the length of the table. “You will all go and retrieve your books for your first two lessons immediately. First years will wait in the common room for their guides.”

Slytherin House seemed to stand as one and moved en masse back down to the common room. Harry was grateful for the satchel Narcissa had suggested he buy; the books, plus parchment, ink and quills turned out to be fairly heavy. Draco urged him to put in their journals.

“In case we get set homework,” he pleaded. Harry gave in, just so they could leave their dormitory.

Their lessons turned out to be pretty much as Marcus had suggested. Professor McGonagall was strict, Binns was boring and Flitwick was mildly amusing. Harry was slightly disappointed that they didn’t learn spells in all of their lessons; only in Charms.

Quirrell, of course, stuttered his was through their lesson and set them an essay on whatever he’d been talking about. They had an essay each from Transfiguration and Charms, too. At lunch, all of the first years were fairly quiet. Harry talked to Blaise mostly, whose spirits seemed impossible to dampen. Draco sat quietly next to Harry, his nose buried in a Potions textbook.

“Hey, lighten up Draco! It’s our first lesson, he’s not expecting miracles!” Blaise waved a hand in front of Draco’s book, and was met with a glare.

“He’s exactly like my father. Of course he’s expecting miracles from me.” Draco snapped, eyes dropping to the book again almost immediately. Blaise snorted and commenced flicking peas at a Ravenclaw boy.

Ten minutes later, Terrence Higgs stood in front of them and hustled them all back to the common room to grab their potions books. He smirked at Draco while he feverently read.

“You sure you shouldn’t be a Ravenclaw?” he joked. Draco raised a single blond eyebrow.

“Sure you want to ask that, Higgs?” Terrence blinked twice, slightly taken back by the expression on the younger boy’s face.

“He really is your Godfather, isn’t he?” Terrence said slowly, before turning to the rest of the Slytherin first years. “Okay guys, you’re going to be a bit early for Potions, and you’re going to have to find your own way back. Good news; Potions is in the dungeons, too, so you can’t go too far wrong. Let’s go!”

Keeping in mind Terrence’s warning about finding their own way back, Harry kept a careful eye on the path they took, noting it down in his mind. It was easier, he thought, to keep track of things upstairs in the castle. In the dungeons there were no paintings (Camélia had said they allowed Slytherins to move about the dungeons unseen), and so no points of reference.

When they reached Potions, they quietly filed into the empty classroom at Terrence’s gesture. Harry pulled Draco towards a table on the left side of the room. Draco looked up from his book long enough to complain that he hated the seats, before his eyes drifted back down to the book. Harry looked about the rest of the room, fairly confident that he could recall most things from the first couple of chapters of their Potions textbook.

The other Slytherins had followed his and Draco’s lead, and sat on the left side of the classroom all together. Vince and Greg were paired together, as were Millicent and Pansy. Sophie and Natalia sat together happily, and Theo had sat with Daphne, leaving Blaise alone on the table in front of them.

“Hope we’re with the Ravenclaws,” Blaise smirked. “I bet I could get one of them to do it all for me. Did you see that bushy-haired one in History of Magic? She looked eager. What was her name again?”

“Granger,” Harry hissed back. “Hermione Granger.”

Almost as if Blaise’s words were a catalyst, the Ravenclaws trouped in, pairing themselves up instinctively. Seeing the bushy-haired girl left on her own, Blaise called to her.

“It’s Hermione, right?” He smiled toothily. “Why don’t you partner me? My house apparently lacks taste. I’m Blaise.” The girl gratefully took the seat next to him.

“Thank you,” she squeaked nervously, setting her bulging satchel down next to her. Blaise looked back and smirked at Draco and Harry, waggling both eyebrows suggestively.

The classroom door suddenly swung wide open, crashing against the wall behind it. Their Potions Master strode in, robes billowing in his wake. He executed a sharp spin as he reached the front of the room, eyeing his silent students speculatively. With a wave of his wand, several cauldrons and vials appeared on the desk behind him.

“You are here to learn the art that is Potions. Make no mistake here, for this is by far the most dangerous, most punishing and least forgiving of all of the magics you will encounter here at Hogwarts. I will not tolerate fools in this lesson, so if you wish to misbehave you may leave my room immediately.” The Professor paused for a moment, watching the students carefully. “Potions are probably the most underestimated portion of magic, for they seem to have little immediate use for the vast majority of the Wizarding public, however, those of you who will advance to the upper echelons of society will learn that Potions are possibly the most important branch of magic.” The Professor moved gracefully behind his desk, and picked up a small, golden vial.

“This potion is called Felix Felicis, other wise known as ‘liquid luck’. This amount will grant the drinker twenty-four hours of good luck.” He moved to the next cauldron. “This is Pepper-Up potion, something that you will all become familiar with, as it cures most colds. This vial, while it may look like water is actually Veritaserum, which will force the drinker to tell the absolute truth.” He explained his way through the next three potions, quickly garnering himself a spellbound audience. “This potion is used in conjunction with a spell, and can cause massive explosions…”

“Wow,” breathed a tall Ravenclaw boy.

“Five points from Ravenclaw for speaking out of turn, Mister…” Snape peered at the top of the boy’s parchment where he had already written his name and the date. “Goldstein. As you interrupted, I suppose that you already know all there is to know about Potions. Tell me, Mister Goldstein, the main property of Dittany?” he snapped.

“I… uh I don’t know, Professor.” The boy mumbled, ducking his head.

“Does anybody in this room know?” The Professor aimed his question at the entire room. Harry raised his hand slowly, noting that Draco and Daphne had raised their hands too. The girl next to Blaise, Hermione was nearly jumping out of her seat, her hand was that highly raised. “Ah, our resident celebrity.” His voice caressed the word silkily, drawing it out into its requisite syllables. “Care to prove that you are more than just a pretty face, Mister Potter?”

“Dittany is generally used for healing purposes, Professor.” Harry said, smirking slightly at the Ravenclaw boy. “It makes fresh skin grow over wounds, and if shredded can be used in the Wiggenweld Potion.”

“Ten points to Slytherin, Mister Potter. You are correct.” He addressed the rest of the class seamlessly. “If you do not already know what has just been said, I suggest you write it down. Today we will be learning about healing potions. I expect a roll of parchment on common ingredients found in healing potions and their properties for Friday’s lesson. Now, copy down what is written on the board!” The Professor flicked his wrist at the blackboard behind him and lines of chalked writing appeared.

Their Potions lesson was soon over with all of the Slytherin’s leaving smiling, and several Ravenclaws near tears. Hermione Granger was talking Blaise’s ear off with her ideas for their essay.

“…and when I was in the library this morning I saw a book on…”

“It sounds amazing,” Blaise interrupted her, his smile causing a flush across her cheeks. “Maybe we could work on it together? I could meet you in the library after dinner tomorrow night?”

“Sure,” the girl flushed even more. “I’ll see you then, I guess.” She left the room, hurrying after her Ravenclaw classmates. Harry looked around, searching for a reason to stay behind, but the Professor cleverly sidestepped the issue.

“Mister Zabini, Mister Malfoy and Mister Potter please wait behind a moment.” The other Slytherin’s soon exited, looking back curiously at the three left behind.

“Professor?” Draco asked after a moment of silence.

“I have words for all of you. I’ll start with Mister Zabini.” Snape turned the full force of his impressive glare on Blaise who, to his credit, didn’t even twitch. “I will expect two different essays from you and Miss Granger. At least two different sources, I will not have anyone, Slytherin or no, coasting through my class.” He turned to Draco, gaze softening slightly. “Mister Malfoy, I regret not having a chance to say this to you privately, and I doubt that I have to say it at all, however it is important that it is said.” He paused for breath, and ducked his head for a moment. “Whilst you are studying at this school, I will not be your godfather, is that understood? You will receive no special treatment from me, and you are expected to refer to me as Professor at all times, except during the holidays.”

“As you wish, Professor.” Draco bowed his head in deference to the elder man’s wishes.

“Thank you, Mister Malfoy.” The Potions Master responded. “And Mister Potter, I have the potions you require, please drink them immediately.” Harry nodded his thanks, and hurriedly downed the three vials that on the Professor’s desk.

“Potions?” Draco asked, looking from his friend to his godfather with narrowed eyes.

“For virility,” His godfather said with a straight face, causing Blaise to snort with amusement. Draco cracked a mildly confused smirk, silently vowing to look up the word in a dictionary. “Mister Potter, Mister Malfoy, I think you should leave your friend here, I will walk him back to the common room after we have had a little chat.”

Harry gave Blaise an encouraging smile as he left the room with Draco. They managed to find their way to the common room without incident, and when Blaise entered some time later he refused to speak about his conversation with their Head of House, but gave a note to Harry that was written in a spiky hand that Harry assumed was the Professor’s.

 Mister Potter,

 You will attend a meeting on this coming Tuesday night in  my office off the Slytherin Common Room at eight o’clock. You will  not require any school items, and may attend in non-uniform.  Failure to attend will carry severe consequences.

Professor S. Snape

Harry pulled a wry grin at the short message that already seemed fairly typical of their Head of House’s restrained manner.

That night, when he went to bed, Harry was almost completely sure that he’d fit in at this strange school called Hogwarts.

-  HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP - HBP -

Thank you for reading this chapter! As always, thank you to my amazing Beta, Samantha, who made this readable. Please review, whether you loved or hated it. Chapter 10 - House Loyalties up soon!