Serpent's Lair

After the hat had sorted Blaise, Albus Dumbledore got to his feet. He was beaming at the students, his arms opened wide, as if nothing could have pleased him more than to see them all there. Harry was already starting to like him.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Most of the students clapped and cheered, although Harry noticed that a few of the Slytherins, including Blaise, seemed less than enthusiastic. For his part, Harry didn't know whether to laugh or not.

"Is he-- a bit mad?" Harry whispered uncertainly to Blaise.

"Well--" Blaise began. She waited for the cheering to die down, then continued, "Father thinks so. Mother says he's too harsh. He was really important in the war against You-Know-Who, and he did defeat Grindewald, but-- well, Father says he's got the failings of a Gryffindor-- he's impulsive and unpredictable, and he gives people too many second chances... like keeping Hagrid on as a grounds keeper--"

"Why's that a mistake?" Harry demanded.

"I don't know... he did something that got him expelled... Father says they shouldn't have let him come back, he said to be careful of him..."

"I've met Hagrid," Harry interrupted, his temper rising. "He's the one who took me to Diagon Alley to get my supplies. There's nothing wrong with him. I think he's one of the greatest wizards I've met."

Blaise seemed to realize it was time to back down, but couldn't quite bring herself to do so. "Whatever Father thinks about him, he's got good reason for it," she said firmly. "He even said he thinks he might be part giant... though even Dumbledore should know better than that..."

Harry was getting increasingly disturbed. He didn't want to get into a fight with his only friend on their first day, but he couldn't back down about Hagrid, either. "I don't care what he is--" he began heatedly. Someone tapped his arm. He turned to see Theodore Nott looking at him.

"You two can subsist on arguments if you want," he observed, without much interest. "But the food is here." Then he sank back into his former state of sullen silence. Blaise seemed to feel that this was a good time to change the subject, and so she offered Harry the mashed potatoes, then the roast beef, then the lamb chops and sausages. Harry had never seen so much food; at any rate, not that he was allowed to eat. He piled his plate full, taking a bit of everything. It was all delicious. He ate ravenously, trying not to think about his argument with Blaise, and it was some time before he tuned in to the conversations buzzing around him. Blaise was babbling nonstop to Phineas, who was sitting across the table and one seat down from her. Darrin looked bored. Meanwhile, Draco was talking to a blond girl who'd been sorted shortly before Harry, and trying hard to ignore the menacing presence of the Bloody Baron beside him. Arriana had stopped sulking and was talking to a second-year boy beside her. Millicent was talking to an older boy who looked a lot like her; Harry assumed he was her brother. Theodore was eating in a slow, determined manner, managing to making stabbing his food with a fork an act of controlled viciousness. He seemed utterly immersed in his own world again.

They finished dinner and dessert came. Blaise kept glancing at Harry, as if hoping to start a conversation with him, but Harry didn't say anything. Phineas and Darrin were talking in low voices, their heads close together. Malfoy was bragging about his broom-riding skills and sitting as far from the Bloody Baron as possible. Harry, who was starting to feel warm and sleepy, looked up at the High Table again. Hagrid was drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore. Professor Quirrell, in his absurd turban, was talking to a teacher with greasy black hair, a hooked nose, and sallow skin.

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes-- and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ouch!" Harry clapped a hand to his forehead.

Theodore Nott gave him a strange look, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'loony,' and sank back into his own world.

"Harry? Are you okay?" Blaise asked, sounding worried.

"Yeah, I-- I'm fine."

The pain had gone as quickly as it had come. Harder to shake off was the feeling of hostility the Harry had gotten from the teacher's look.

"Who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?" he asked Blaise, ready to take anything she told him with a pinch of salt this time.

"Who's Professor Quirrell?" Blaise asked, sounding relieved that Harry had spoken.

"The one with the turban."

Blaise followed his gaze. "The guy with the greasy hair? I don't know-- Phineas?"

"Hm?" Phineas turned toward them; he'd clearly been too immersed in his conversation to notice anything before now.

"Who's the teacher next to the guy with the turban?"

Phineas' eyes quickly scanned the High Table. "The one who's talking to him?"

Blaise nodded.

"That's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, and he's our head of house." Phineas turned back to his conversation with Darrin. Harry stared at Snape, feeling uneasy. He'd gotten the feeling Snape didn't like him. What was he suppose to do if Snape was his head of house?

Blaise looked as though she had something to say, but was holding it back.

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"Nothing," she answered, going back to her rice pudding.

At last, the desserts disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem-- just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch.

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"Odd," Phineas muttered. "Usually, he gives us a reason..."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed. A shadow of horror seemed to descend over the Slytherin table. Darrin looked as if he were facing execution, Phineas' eyebrows had risen a fraction of an inch in amusement, and Millicent's brother had covered his face with his hand. The Bloody Baron stared straight ahead, looking more menacing than usual, and Harry found himself feeling a little sorry for Malfoy.

Dumbledore gave his wand a little flick, as if he was trying to get a fly off the end, and a long golden ribbon flew out of it, which rose high above the tables and twisted itself, snakelike, into words.

"Everyone pick their favorite tune," said Dumbledore (Darrin ground his teeth), "and off we go!"

And the school bellowed:

Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy Warty Hogwarts,

Teach us something please,

Whether we be old and bald

Or young with scabby knees,

Our heads could do with filling

With some interesting stuff,

For now they're bare and full of air

Dead flies and bits of fluff,

So teach us things worth knowing,

Bring back what we've forgot,

Just do your best, we'll do the rest,

And learn until our brains all rot."

Everybody finished the song at different times. At last, only the red-haired twins Harry had noticed at the station were left, singing along to a very slow funeral march. Phineas hid an amused smile behind his hand. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with his wand and when they had finished, he was one of those who clapped loudest.

"Ah, music," he said, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

The Slytherin first years followed a tall prefect through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and down a marble staircase. They kept going for a long time, always down, until they reached the dank, dark corridors of a dungeon. At last they reached a blank stone wall.

"Serpensortia," the prefect said, and a door appeared in the wall, and the first years followed him into Slytherin common room. The room was lit by a bluish-green fire that burned coldly under an elaborately carved mantelpiece. Around the fire stood a number of high-backed chairs.

"My name is Jonas Rilias," the prefect began, "and welcome to Slytherin house. There are a few ground rules, most of which are pretty easy to figure out. No boys in the girls dorm and vice versa, don't set fire to your dorm mate's bed, no raising illegal creatures... that sort of thing. If you have problems you can come to me, or, if you're smarter, you can go to Phineas Rosier or to Evan Wilkes or to Marcus Flint, depending on which one you're most likely to get help from. Don't go to the head boy and girl, because they're studying for their NEWTs and they won't give a damn. Don't do stupid stuff that loses us house points. Don't break the rules, and if you do, don't get caught. I'll show the you where the boys dorm is, and Alicia Starr--" he gestured to the girl standing beside him "will show you the other. Oh yeah, and she's a bleeding heart, so she's a good bet for problems, too." Alicia swatted at him, and he dodged, grinning, then regained his composure. "Follow me."

The first-year boys followed Jonas down one last flight of stairs to their dorm, and Harry fell gratefully into bed, and was asleep almost at once.

Harry woke the next morning to see Jonas lighting the room's torches with his wand.

"Not much light gets in through the windows," Jonas explained. "So this is the only way any of you will be able to see anything. I'll be teaching one of you how to light the torches pretty soon. It isn't hard. Here-- look out the window, though." Harry did, and saw a pale white circle, at least eighteen inches in diameter. "The giant squid," Jonas explained. "It gets against the windows sometimes. It can't break through, though; Slytherin himself put protections on those windows. Well," he continued, "you seem to be the early riser of the group; do make sure the rest of them are awake by six thirty, would you? Breakfast's at seven."

Harry nodded, looking around the torch lit room more carefully than he had before. The effect of the firelight was distinctly eerie, especially in the early morning. "What time is it now?" he asked.

"About five-thirty," Jonas told him. "Hey-- do you have any questions? About Hogwarts in general, or about Slytherin? Most kids who come here were raised with wizards, so you might still have some questions they don't."

Harry shook his head. "Thanks, but I can't think of anything."

Jonas shrugged. "That's true of a lot of people in the morning," he replied. "Alicia and I will never understand it. At least you're awake. Let me know if you do think of something. And hey-- congratulations on making Slytherin house. I hope you like it here."

Jonas left. Harry got dressed, then waited a little while. Theodore awoke not much after, sitting up in bed rather suddenly, then looking around slowly as if not quite believing where he was. Harry sensed that he did not wish to be spoken to, so instead he took out of his school books and tried to review, but he couldn't concentrate well enough, so he shut the book and waited. After a while, he ventured to ask Theodore the time, and Theodore replied that it was six fifteen. Harry got up and went down to the common room, where he found Phineas and Darrin bent over a large, old-fashioned book. Phineas was pointing to a passage in it, and Darrin was hunched over, reading intently. Neither seemed to notice Harry's presence.

"Do you think that will work?" Darrin asked.

Phineas shrugged. "It's worth a try. It's the best lead we've come across... Good morning, Harry Potter."

Darrin jumped. "How long have you been there?" He demanded angrily.

"Darrin, this is his common room," Phineas remarked. "It is not altogether surprising that he should be in it. And he hasn't been there long."

The look on Darrin's face was still a bit dangerous, and Harry started to back away. "Darrin, you needn't give the boy the evil eye," Phineas sighed. "It's almost time to be getting ready for class, anyway. Just finish reading that passage. There's nothing against the rules about that." With one last, dark look at Harry, Darrin returned to his book. Curious despite himself, Harry started forward, but Phineas had risen and came over to greet him, and Harry could tell that Phineas was heading him off. Phineas made small talk for a while, and finally Darrin shut the book.

"Finished?" Phineas inquired. "Very well. Let us go prepare for breakfast." And the two of them went down the stairs to the boys' dorms. Harry tried to see what the book was, but didn't manage to get a look at the cover, and Phineas and Darrin were soon out of sight. He sat down in one of the high-backed chairs and waited for time to pass. Then he went back downstairs. Theodore was sitting on his bed, very still, his eyes wide and staring off into some unknown distance. Once again, Harry felt it would be rude to interrupt. The other boys in the dorm were starting to stir. Theodore shook himself, like a dog trying to get dry. He rose from his bed and dressed, moving mechanically, ignoring everyone in the room. Draco was mumbling in his sleep, Goyle was snoring, and Crabbe was tossing and turning, tangling his sheets. Finally he moved to far and crashed onto the floor, which woke Draco properly. Draco snorted in amusement as he watched Crabbe trying to disentangle himself from his sheets, then stretched, rose, and went over to help him.

"Jonas said breakfast's at seven," Harry told Draco.

Draco nodded, still trying to untangle the sheets. "How did you do this, Vincent?" he muttered. "I'd ask if you meant to, but you couldn't have done this good of a job on purpose..."

Harry went back down to the common room, and followed a group of third years to the great hall for breakfast. It hadn't started yet, but people were trickling in, and perhaps a quarter of the school was already there. Many people turned and stared at him, whispers broke out whenever he passed a group. Blaise arrived at breakfast, out of breath, instants before it began. She hadn't brushed her hair and looked as if she had dressed in a hurry.

"Hi Harry," she said brightly, sitting down beside him. "I only just now woke up. We're starting classes today. Are you excited?" Blaise's good mood was infectious that morning, and by the end of breakfast it had affected Harry as well.

Hogwarts proved extremely hard to navigate, having trick staircases and secret passages, doors that were only there on Wednesday, and halls that did a quarter turn whenever you entered them. There was Filch, the caretaker, and his cat Mrs. Norris, both of whom hated the students with a passion. The castle also had a poltergeist; but on their second day at Hogwarts, Alicia informed them that he could often be kept at bay by the Blood Baron. "One of the perks of Slytherin house." Alicia and Jonas also taught the first-years a basic warming spell that slightly increased the temperature immediately surrounding their bodies. This was definitely appreciated, since the dungeons were extremely cold at all times.

Once you made it to class, there were the classes themselves. There was a lot more to magic, as Harry quickly found out, than waving your wand and saying a few funny words.

They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Tuesday at midnight. Twice a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to Herbology, where they learned how to take care of all the strange plants and fungi, and found out what they were used for. Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which was the only one taught by a ghost. Professor Binns had been very old indeed when he had fallen asleep in front of the staff room fire and got up next morning to teach, leaving his body behind him. Binns droned on and on while they scribbled down names and dates. For some reason, Blaise found the class tolerable, and was soon selling her notes to other students (she let Harry read them for free).

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. At the start of their first class he took roll call, and when he reached Harry's name he gave an excited squeak and toppled out of sight.

Professor McGonagall was again different. Strict and clever, she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class: "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts. Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she turned her desk into a pig and back. They were impressed, but it soon became clear that they weren't going to be changing furniture into animals for a long time. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they spent the lesson trying to turn a match into a needle. By the end of the lesson, only Goyle-- much to everyone's surprise-- had made any difference in his match (unless you counted Arriana's setting hers on fire). It had turned pointy at the end, although it was still undeniably wood.

Defense Against the Dark Arts turned out to be quite a disappointment; Quirrell's classroom smelled strongly of garlic, and he seemed afraid of his subject. Draco complained loudly and frequently about this class, until Theodore threatened to show him some dark arts curses if he didn't shut up.

"Well, we've almost made it through the week," Blaise said cheerfully on their way back to the dungeons after Thursday's dinner.

"Almost," Harry agreed. "What have we got tomorrow?"

"Double Potions with the Gryffindors," Blaise said. "I wonder if Father was exaggerating about how much they like explosions... well, I guess we'll find out tomorrow."