A House Divided
The Sorting Hat felt heavy on Harry’s head as it swayed back and forth between countless possibilities. A cold, flickering sensation crept down his neck as the Hat murmured in his mind. He had never really thought much about which house he would end up in, but the thought of Gryffindor had always been present. After all, they were the heroes, right?
“Hmmm… difficult, difficult…” the Hat murmured in his head. “You have courage, I can feel that, but there’s more. You possess a certain... elegance of calculation, a tendency for strategy that could lead you in another direction. Perhaps Slytherin?”
Harry’s heart skipped a beat. Slytherin? It was everything he didn’t want. But the Hat seemed firm in its opinion.
“Yeah, that’s it. You belong with them, Harry Potter. Slytherin.”
A shock coursed through him as the Hat assigned him to the house. The murmurs of the other students mixed with his own racing heartbeat. He looked to Hermione, who was staring at him with wide eyes, and Ron, who sat dumbfounded in his chair.
“Harry?” Ron whispered, as Harry walked toward the Slytherin table, “Are you sure?”
Harry sat down and tried to hide the feeling of confusion. But there was someone staring at him with an interested look. A silver-blond boy, with an arrogant expression on his face. Draco Malfoy.
“Well, well, Potter,” Draco said as Harry reached the table, “who would have thought? A Gryffindor in a Slytherin’s body. This will be interesting.”
Harry gave him a skeptical look as he tried to adjust to the new reality that seemed to be tightening around him.
Harry sat at the Slytherin table, which was visibly different from the Gryffindor one. The gazes of the other students seemed to pierce him, but no one said a word. Some eyes were curious, others wary, but all were silent. As Harry settled into his seat, he felt the cool, almost calculating atmosphere around him. There was none of the warmth he was used to from Gryffindor. No smiles, no friendly greetings. Just watching eyes, questioning every step he made.
“You’ll get used to it, Potter,” said Draco Malfoy, who sat next to him. The silver-blond boy seemed almost amused as he appraised Harry. “Slytherin is a whole different game. Here, there are no endless rites of friendship and honor. Only power and influence.”
Harry stared at him for a moment. “And what’s your game, Malfoy?”
Draco’s smile widened, but it wasn’t a friendly smile. It was that of a boy who knew exactly how to play the game. “You’ll see, Potter. The fact that you’re here shows you have more in you than you’re willing to admit. And I’m sure you’ll learn a lot.”
A chill ran down Harry’s spine. He’d never really thought about Slytherin until this moment. What would it mean to be here? What would change?
“Why are you here, Malfoy?” Harry asked suddenly. “Are you here to prove you’re better than everyone else?”
Draco’s eyes sparkled as he looked at Harry. “And what if I am?” He leaned back and looked at Harry, as if daring him to say more. “Maybe you’re just like me, Potter. Maybe you want something more than just the old tale of fame and honor.”
The words echoed in Harry’s head, and he could feel the eyes of the other Slytherins on him, watching every word. In that moment, he felt that he wasn’t just occupying a spot in a house—he was part of a much bigger game.
“I don’t know what you’re planning, Malfoy,” Harry said quietly, “but I’ll find out.”
Draco simply nodded, as if he’d been expecting that. “You will, Potter. You will.”
The evening passed in a mix of uncomfortable conversations and silent stares. Harry felt out of place, but the Hat’s words kept echoing in his mind. Slytherin. Maybe he wasn’t so far removed from what he had hated. Maybe he was more like Malfoy than he thought.
As the last bits of food were eaten and the festivities came to an end, an older Slytherin named Nott led him down the long corridor to the dormitories. The dark hallway was lit with candles, their flickering light casting dancing shadows on the walls.
“Ready to take your place in the family?” Nott grinned as he stopped in front of a heavy iron door. “Welcome to the Slytherin dormitory. But don’t worry, it’s not as bad as it looks.”
Harry only nodded without saying a word. The thought of the dormitory, the close, dense darkness, and the strange feeling that already overwhelmed him made him forget the past hour. What had just happened? Why did it feel like everything around him was shifting while he remained still and lost in the same spot?
The dormitory door opened before him, and the cold draft that greeted him made him look up. He stepped inside, and with each step, it felt like the room was swallowing him more, as if he were opening a new chapter of his life that he never wanted to read.
As Harry entered the Slytherin dormitory, he was immediately enveloped by the cold, dark atmosphere. The room was vast, with dark green velvet accents. It felt more like a dungeon than a cozy dormitory. The walls were covered in old, almost antique wallpaper, marked by years of dampness from the underground chambers. A faint green light filtered through tiny windows that almost resembled bars. There were no open views of the night sky, just the gloomy shadows of the subterranean vaults.
The beds were arranged in long rows, each framed by green curtains that made the room even darker. The beds themselves were plain, with rough green blankets that didn’t convey much comfort. The pillows were uniform and unremarkable, lacking the vibrant flair of the Gryffindor dorms. Everything here seemed designed to maintain calm and control, not refuge or warmth.
Harry hesitated as he entered the room, and a few of the other Slytherins eyed him with cool stares. He could feel the constant tension in the air. It wasn’t like Gryffindor, where laughter and chatter filled the space. Instead, it was a silent, almost ghostly place, as if everyone was waiting for their chance to prove themselves.
“You’ll get used to it,” Harry heard a voice behind him. It was Blaise Zabini, another Slytherin, who gave him a distant look as he walked toward his bed. “This is the place where you’ll really see who you are. And whether you’re strong enough to make it.”
Harry simply nodded without a word and moved to a bed in the back row. It wasn’t the biggest, but it was quiet and not taken by the others, who seemed to prefer the top beds. As he sat on the mattress, he could hear the creaking of the old wood holding the bedframe together.
It was strange. The silence. It didn’t feel like home. It felt more like a constant test, a constant waiting for whatever would come next. Harry lay down and stared into the darkness as the sounds of the dormitory slowly faded around him. There was no one here who truly understood him. No one who accepted him the way the Gryffindors had. The Slytherins were a separate, unreachable universe.
Yet something in him, a deep, indefinable feeling, told him that he wasn’t just here to blend in. Something had called him here. Maybe the Sorting Hat hadn’t been entirely wrong. Maybe he was more a part of this house than he wanted to admit.
The cold of the dormitory seemed to burrow into his bones, but it wasn’t just the cold of the air. It was the cold of the truth that lay in this room—that he was now in Slytherin and would never be the same again.