The Slytherin welcome
The Slytherin table buzzed with excitement and curiosity as Harry took his seat. He could feel the eyes of his new housemates on him, assessing, wondering, and perhaps even judging. The Great Hall, with its enchanted ceiling mimicking the night sky, seemed to hum with an energy that was both thrilling and intimidating.
Draco Malfoy, ever the self-assured leader, leaned in closer. "You'll fit right in here, Harry," he said, his voice low but confident. "Slytherin values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness—all qualities you'll need to navigate Hogwarts."
Harry nodded, appreciating Draco's support. Despite the uncertainties and the potential dangers, he felt a burgeoning sense of belonging and purpose.
The feast that followed the Sorting was a grand affair. Tables groaned under the weight of platters filled with every kind of food imaginable. As Harry filled his plate, he couldn't help but notice the camaraderie among the Slytherins. They were united by a shared ambition and a sense of pride in their house.
"Harry, this is Pansy Parkinson," Draco said, gesturing to a dark-haired girl sitting across from them. "And these are Blaise Zabini, Daphne Greengrass, and Theodore Nott."
Pansy gave Harry a scrutinizing look before smiling. "It's an honor to have you in our house, Harry."
Blaise, a tall, handsome boy with a regal bearing, nodded. "Indeed. Your reputation precedes you."
Daphne, with her sharp eyes and cool demeanor, added, "We expect great things from you, Harry."
Theo, quieter and more reserved, simply inclined his head in greeting.
Harry smiled, feeling a sense of acceptance and anticipation. "Thank you," he said. "I'm looking forward to getting to know all of you."
As the feast continued, Harry listened to his new friends share stories and gossip about Hogwarts. He learned about the different professors, the various classes, and the intricacies of Slytherin house. It was a lot to take in, but Harry felt a growing excitement for the challenges and adventures ahead.
After the feast, the Slytherins made their way to their common room, hidden deep within the dungeons of Hogwarts. The journey through the labyrinthine corridors was both eerie and fascinating. The cold stone walls and flickering torches gave the dungeons a sense of ancient mystery.
Draco led the way, stopping in front of a bare stretch of wall. "Pureblood," he said, and the wall slid open to reveal a passage leading to the Slytherin common room.
The common room was a grand space, with dark green and silver decor reflecting the house colors. The walls were lined with bookshelves and decorated with tapestries depicting famous Slytherins throughout history. A large fireplace crackled with green flames, casting an otherworldly glow.
"Welcome to our home away from home," Draco said, gesturing around the room. "Make yourself comfortable, Harry."
Harry took in the room, feeling a sense of awe. It was unlike anything he had ever experienced, and it reinforced his determination to excel and prove himself worthy of the opportunities before him.
"First years, this way," said a tall, stern-looking girl who introduced herself as Gemma Farley, the Slytherin prefect. She led them to the dormitories, where Harry found his bed already prepared.
As Harry unpacked his belongings, he felt a mix of excitement and apprehension. The path ahead was uncertain, but he was determined to make the most of his time at Hogwarts.
The next morning, Harry awoke to the sound of the other first-year boys getting ready. Draco, ever punctual, was already dressed and looked as immaculate as ever. "First day of classes," he said with a grin. "Time to make an impression."
Harry quickly dressed in his new robes, feeling a surge of excitement. They made their way to the Great Hall for breakfast, where the entire school buzzed with the anticipation of the new term.
As they ate, Harry's mind raced with thoughts of the classes ahead. He was particularly eager for Defense Against the Dark Arts, Potions, and Charms. The prospect of learning real magic, of mastering spells and potions, filled him with a sense of purpose.
After breakfast, they received their schedules and headed to their first class: Potions with Professor Snape. The class was held in one of the deeper dungeons, the cold air thick with the scent of various ingredients.
Professor Snape was already waiting when they arrived, his dark robes billowing as he moved. His eyes were cold and calculating, and Harry felt a shiver of unease as they settled on him.
"Ah, Mr. Potter," Snape said, his voice a silken drawl. "Our new celebrity."
Harry swallowed, feeling the weight of Snape's gaze. "Good morning, Professor."
Snape's lips curled into a sneer. "Let's see if you can live up to your reputation."
The lesson began, and Harry quickly realized that Snape was a demanding and exacting teacher. He expected perfection and had little patience for mistakes. Despite the pressure, Harry found himself fascinated by the complexities of potion-making.
He worked diligently, following Snape's instructions to the letter. By the end of the class, he had successfully brewed his potion, earning a rare nod of approval from Snape.
"Not bad, Potter," Snape said, his tone grudging. "But don't think for a moment that I'll be giving you any special treatment."
The rest of the day passed in a blur of new experiences. Charms with Professor Flitwick was a delight, his enthusiasm for the subject infectious. Transfiguration with Professor McGonagall was challenging but rewarding, and Harry found himself eager to master the spells.
Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, was the highlight. Professor Quirrell, though nervous and stuttering, introduced them to the basics of defensive spells and dueling. Harry felt a surge of excitement as he successfully cast his first Shield Charm, the shimmering barrier of magic filling him with a sense of accomplishment.
By the time dinner rolled around, Harry was exhausted but exhilarated. He joined his new friends at the Slytherin table, sharing stories of their first day.
"How was Potions?" Blaise asked, a knowing smile on his face.
"Intense," Harry replied. "But I think I did alright."
"Snape's a tough one," Pansy said. "But if you impress him, he can be a powerful ally."
Draco leaned in, his eyes gleaming. "You made a good start, Harry. Keep it up, and you'll go far."
Harry nodded, feeling a sense of pride and determination. The road ahead was long and filled with challenges, but he was ready to face it. With his new friends by his side and the support of Voldemort, he felt invincible.
As the weeks passed, Harry settled into a routine. His days were filled with classes, his evenings with homework and study sessions in the common room. He continued to excel in his lessons, earning the respect of his professors and the admiration of his peers.
One evening, as Harry was poring over his Potions textbook, Draco approached him. "Fancy a bit of practice?" he asked, holding up his wand.
Harry grinned, eager for a break from studying. "Sure. What do you have in mind?"
Draco led Harry to an empty classroom, where they began to practice dueling. At first, the spells were simple—Disarming Charms and Shield Spells. But as they grew more comfortable, the duels became more intense.
Harry found himself exhilarated by the challenge. He had always been a quick learner, and the physicality of dueling appealed to him. Draco was a skilled opponent, but Harry's determination and growing magical prowess made him a formidable match.
After an hour of intense practice, they collapsed onto the floor, laughing and breathless. "You're getting good, Harry," Draco said, wiping sweat from his brow. "I might have to watch my back."
Harry grinned. "You too. But it's good to have someone to practice with."
As they left the classroom, Harry felt a sense of camaraderie with Draco. Despite his initial reservations, he found himself genuinely liking the other boy. They shared a similar ambition and drive, and Harry felt grateful for the friendship that had formed.
One night, Harry received a letter delivered by an elegant owl. He recognized the handwriting immediately—it was from Voldemort.
Harry,
I trust you are settling in well at Hogwarts. Remember the lessons I have taught you and stay vigilant. Power is not just about strength but also about understanding and strategy.
I am pleased with your progress. Continue to excel, and do not hesitate to reach out if you need guidance.
Yours,
Voldemort
Harry read the letter several times, feeling a mixture of pride and determination. He knew that Voldemort's expectations were high, but he was determined to meet them. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but Harry felt ready to face them.
As he lay in bed that night, staring at the canopy above, Harry's mind raced with thoughts of the future. He had come a long way from the frightened, abused boy he once was. Now, he was a student at Hogwarts, a Slytherin, and the protégé of the most powerful dark wizard in history.
The journey ahead was uncertain, but Harry felt a burning desire to prove himself. He would rise above his past, harness his power, and carve out his place in the wizarding world. And with Voldemort's guidance and the support of his new friends, Harry knew that he was destined for greatness.