VI - Snake pit
Harry woke slowly, blinking in the dim light filtering through heavy green curtains. It took him a moment to remember where he was. The bed was unfamiliar, softer than the one in Gryffindor Tower, and the room around him had an eerie stillness. His heart sank as he glanced around, taking in the dark, elegant furnishings that marked this place as distinctly Slytherin.
He sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, and pulled back the curtains surrounding his bed. The room was quiet, with only the faint sound of breathing from the other beds to indicate that he wasn't alone. Harry's eyes fell on the other three occupants of the room—Draco Malfoy, Blaise Zabini, and Theo Nott. Each bed was neatly made, and the boys were already stirring, accustomed to the Slytherin routine.
Harry swung his legs out of bed, his feet touching the cool stone floor. The sensation sent a shiver up his spine, grounding him in the reality of his situation. He was in Slytherin now. The thought was still strange, almost surreal. Just yesterday, he had been a Gryffindor, a fact that had defined him since he first set foot in Hogwarts. Now, he was wearing a different badge, a different identity, and it didn't quite fit.
Across the room, Draco was the first to notice Harry was awake. "Morning, Potter," he said, his tone neutral, not friendly but also not unfriendly. Honestly Harry had no idea what to think about that.
"Morning," Harry replied, his voice still thick with sleep. He reached for his glasses on the bedside table, the familiar weight of them reassuring as he slipped them on.
As he began to get dressed, Harry felt the unfamiliar fabric of the Slytherin uniform between his fingers. It was similar to the Gryffindor one—black robes, tie, and sweater—but the green and silver accents made all the difference. He caught sight of himself in the mirror as he adjusted the tie, and the sight made him pause. It wasn't just the uniform that was different; it was the whole person looking back at him. He barely recognised himself.
Blaise, who had been quietly buttoning his shirt, looked over and caught Harry's gaze in the mirror. "It suits you, you know," he said casually, as if this observation was no big deal.
Harry raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Does it?"
"Yeah," Blaise replied, his tone sincere. "Green's a good colour on you."
Theo, who was pulling on his robes, nodded in agreement. "Definitely. It's weird, but...it kind of works."Harry wasn't sure what to say to that, so he just gave a small nod and continued getting ready. It was still strange to hear them talking to him like this—like he was one of them. But then again, he supposed he was now. The only way he was going to survive was to embrace it.
Draco, who had been watching the exchange from his own corner of the room, walked over and stopped in front of Harry. His pale eyes assessed him critically, and for a moment, Harry thought Draco was about to make a snide remark. Instead, Draco simply reached out and adjusted Harry's tie, his fingers deftly straightening it with a practiced ease. "Your hair's a mess," he said, almost as an afterthought, his tone more amused than anything else. "You should do something about that."
Harry blinked in surprise at the casual intimacy of the gesture. This wasn't the Draco Malfoy he was used to—the one who sneered at him across the Potions classroom or tried to hex him in the corridors. This Draco was different, more subdued, as if the rivalry between them had been set aside, at least for now. If anything Harry thought being Black heir and a Slytherin would make Malfoy hate him more, infringing on his territory and all but it seemed to have done the exact opposite. Harry opened his mouth to respond, but the words didn't come. He simply nodded, his hand brushing his unruly hair in a half-hearted attempt to tame it.
Draco lingered a moment longer, his eyes searching Harry's face as if trying to read something in his expression. Then, with a small, almost imperceptible nod, he turned and moved towards the door.
"We'd better get going," Draco said, his voice taking on a more authoritative tone. "Snape's going to address the first years and the new transfers."
Harry felt a pang of anxiety at the mention of Snape. The prospect of facing the Potions Master in this new context was daunting. Would Snape treat him differently now that he was in Slytherin? Or would he be just as harsh, if not more so? The questions churned in Harry's mind as he followed Draco and the others out of the dormitory.
The Slytherin common room was dimly lit, the greenish glow from the underwater windows casting strange shadows on the walls. The atmosphere was heavy with the weight of centuries of tradition and expectation. Harry could feel it pressing down on him as they joined the other Slytherins, most of whom were already gathered, waiting for Snape to appear.
Draco lingered in the doorway, his eyes following Harry as he moved to join the cluster of first years who had been gathered for the speech. Harry felt the weight of Draco's gaze on his back, and it was both comforting and disconcerting at the same time.
When Snape finally arrived, the room fell silent. His presence commanded attention, and even the first years, who had only just met him, seemed to instinctively understand that this was not a man to be trifled with. Snape swept into the room, his dark eyes scanning the group with a calculating gaze that made Harry's stomach twist with unease.
"Welcome to Slytherin," Snape began, his voice cold and authoritative. "You have been chosen to join a house with a long and proud history. Slytherin values ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness, and it is up to each of you to uphold these values."
As Snape spoke, his eyes flickered over to Harry. The look was brief, but unmistakable, and it sent a shiver down Harry's spine. It was as if Snape was singling him out without saying a word, reminding him that he was being watched closely.
"There are certain expectations for all Slytherins," Snape continued, his gaze moving on to the rest of the group. "Firstly, there will be no fighting between Slytherins outside of this common room. Any disputes you have will be resolved here, in private. To the rest of the school, we present a united front. Any sign of division within our ranks reflects poorly on all of us."
Again, Snape's eyes darted to Harry, lingering for a fraction of a second longer this time before moving on. Harry felt a cold sweat break out on the back of his neck.
"Secondly," Snape went on, "I expect academic excellence from each and every one of you. Slytherin is known for its resourcefulness, and you will demonstrate these qualities by maintaining high grades and showing dedication to your studies."
He gestured towards the boards on the walls, where sign-up sheets were displayed. "On these boards, you will find opportunities to join study groups, arrange one-on-one tutoring sessions with older students, and request personal meetings with me if necessary."
As Snape spoke, his gaze flickered back to Harry repeatedly, but he never addressed him directly. It was as if he was deliberately ignoring Harry, yet at the same time, making it clear that he was watching him closely. The tension was palpable, and Harry felt as though he was under a microscope.
"These resources are here to ensure that you achieve your full potential," Snape finished, his voice firm. "Use them wisely."
With one final, lingering glance at Harry, Snape turned and swept out of the room, leaving a heavy silence in his wake. The first years, including Harry, stood there for a moment, absorbing the weight of what had just been said. The expectations, the scrutiny—it was all so different from what Harry had experienced in Gryffindor.
As the room slowly came back to life, with students beginning to move towards the sign-up sheets or leaving for breakfast. Harry stood there for a moment, unsure of what to feel. This was his new reality, and he would have to navigate it carefully. Slytherin was different—full of secrets, undercurrents, and unspoken rules. And Harry, now more than ever, had to learn to play the game.
~
The heavy oak doors of the study closed behind Sirius with a soft click, sealing him in the room with his grandfather, Arcturus, and the Black family lawyer, Grant Haworth. The room was tastefully decorated in dark, rich tones, with bookshelves lining the walls and a large mahogany desk dominating the space. A single window let in a sliver of daylight, casting a warm glow over the room's occupants.
Grant Haworth, an impeccably dressed man with silvering hair and a stern, yet kind, demeanour, sat behind the desk, his hands steepled in front of him as he regarded Sirius with a discerning eye. Despite his serious expression, there was a glimmer of warmth in his gaze—a reflection of the long-standing relationship he had with the Black family.
"Sirius," Haworth began, his voice calm and measured, "it's good to see you again, despite the circumstances. I must say, you look well, considering all you've been through."
Sirius managed a small smile. "Thank you, Grant. It's been a long road, but I'm ready to do whatever it takes to set things right."
Arcturus, seated in a high-backed leather chair beside his grandson, nodded in agreement. "We have much to discuss, Grant. Sirius's exoneration, his official recognition as Lord Black, and the matter of adopting Harry Potter. We need to ensure everything is handled swiftly and without error."
Haworth inclined his head. "Of course, Lord Arcturus. I've already begun preliminary work on the case. But before we proceed, there are a few things we need to address in detail."
He pulled out a thick file from a drawer in his desk, laying it open before him. The documents within were meticulously organised, a testament to Haworth's thoroughness.
"First, the matter of your exoneration, Sirius," Haworth said, looking up at him. "The charges against you are severe—murder, conspiracy, aiding and abetting the Dark Lord. To overturn them, we'll need irrefutable evidence. Fortunately, we have a few avenues to explore."
Sirius leaned forward, his expression intent. "What do we have so far?"
Haworth adjusted his glasses and flipped through a few pages. "We have testimonies from Remus Lupin and Albus Dumbledore, though the latter was not as helpful as one might expect. However, with the Pensieve memories you've provided, we can demonstrate that you were never the Potters' Secret-Keeper. That alone should cast serious doubt on the charges."
"We'll need more than doubt," Arcturus interjected, his tone firm. "We need absolution."
"Agreed," Haworth said. "I'm working on obtaining a testimony from Peter Pettigrew—"
"If we can find him," Sirius muttered darkly.
"Indeed. That will be crucial, but even without it, we have the legal precedent to challenge the lack of trial. Given that you were imprisoned without due process, we have grounds to argue for an immediate review of your case."
Haworth's confidence was reassuring, and Sirius felt a flicker of hope. "And what about the title of Lord Black?"
"Once you're exonerated, the title will pass to you automatically," Haworth explained. "Your grandfather has already initiated the necessary paperwork to transfer the estate and assets. However, there's a formal ceremony that will need to be conducted, one that signifies the passing of the title from one generation to the next. We can schedule that once the legalities are settled."
Arcturus nodded, satisfied. "And what of the adoption? Harry is of critical importance to Sirius, and we must ensure that it is done properly and without interference from external parties."
"Given your status as Harry's godfather, Sirius, you have a strong claim," Haworth said, his tone turning thoughtful. "However, there are complications. The Ministry may challenge the adoption, citing your recent legal troubles and Harry's placement with his Muggle relatives. Additionally, Dumbledore may have his own objections, given his influence over Harry's upbringing."
Sirius's jaw tightened at the mention of Dumbledore. "Dumbledore has had too much say in Harry's life already. I want Harry with me, where he belongs."
Haworth nodded, understanding the urgency in Sirius's voice. "We can argue that Harry's best interests are served by being with you, his godfather, rather than with Muggles who are ill-equipped to care for a magical child. I'll begin drafting the necessary petitions immediately, but I must caution you—this may take time. The Ministry's bureaucracy is not known for its speed, and we may encounter resistance."
"Do whatever it takes," Sirius said, his voice firm. "I'll wait as long as I need to, but I want Harry with me."
Haworth smiled slightly, a rare expression of warmth. "I expected no less from you, Sirius. Rest assured, I'll handle everything with the utmost care. We've been through difficult times before, and we've always come out stronger. This will be no different."
Arcturus leaned back in his chair, his expression contemplative. "Grant, you've served this family for many years, and I have every confidence in your abilities. But we must be prepared for every eventuality. Should the Ministry attempt to block Sirius's exoneration, we'll need to consider alternative measures."
Haworth met Arcturus's gaze, understanding the unspoken implications. "I have a few contingencies in place, should it come to that. However, I'm confident that we can navigate the legal channels without resorting to more... drastic measures."
Sirius exchanged a glance with his grandfather, a silent understanding passing between them. The Black family had always been known for their resourcefulness, and while they preferred to work within the law, they were not above taking matters into their own hands if necessary.
With those words, the meeting ended, and Sirius left the study with a sense of purpose. The road ahead was long and fraught with challenges, but with his grandfather and their trusted lawyer by his side, he knew he could face whatever came his way.
Haworth gathered the documents into a neat stack, his professional demeanour unwavering. "I'll be in touch with updates as soon as I have them. In the meantime, rest assured that everything is in motion."
Sirius extended his hand, and Haworth shook it firmly. "Thank you, Grant. For everything."
"It's my pleasure, Sirius," Haworth replied, his voice filled with quiet conviction. "We'll make sure that justice is served and that the Black family legacy is restored."
The fight ahead would be demanding, but with their combined efforts, Sirius felt confident that he would reclaim his life and secure a future for Harry and the House of Black.
~
The Slytherin common room was quieter then Harry had expected for a morning, after Snape's speech the only sound was the faint murmur of students getting ready for the day. The dim green light from the lake outside cast eerie shadows on the walls, and Harry still couldn’t shake the feeling of unfamiliarity. Everything was different here, from the cold stone floors to the polished, dark wood furniture that seemed to absorb any warmth.
Harry felt all eyes on him as he walked over to where his dorm mates, now joined by the girls, were waiting for him near the entrance to the common room. They had accepted him, in their own way, but Harry could still sense the unspoken tension. Years of fighting didn't go away over night after all.
"Ready?" Draco asked, his voice neutral, though Harry detected a hint of something behind it—an expectation, perhaps.
"Yeah, let’s go," Harry replied, forcing a small smile as he fell in step with the group. The Slytherins moved with an easy confidence, a collective understanding that they were all on the same side, and Harry tried to match their pace.
Draco Malfoy was the first to notice Harry and smirked. “Ready to face the day, Potter?”
Harry gave a small nod, still getting used to the sight of Draco speaking to him without malice. “Yeah, let’s get going.”
Harry nodded, feeling a strange mix of emotions. It was still odd to be walking alongside Draco and the others, but they had been surprisingly accepting of him since his re-sorting. It wasn’t friendship—not yet, at least—but there was a sense of camaraderie he hadn’t expected.
As they reached the entrance, Harry’s steps faltered. Standing just outside, waiting for him, was Hermione Granger. Her face was pale, her eyes puffy as if she hadn’t slept well. Harry’s heart sank at the sight of her, but he squared his shoulders, unwilling to show any weakness in front of his new housemates.
“Harry,” Hermione called out as soon as she saw him, her voice tinged with desperation. “Can we talk?”
Harry hesitated, a flare of irritation rising in him. The memory of how she and Ron had ignored him all summer was still fresh, the sting of betrayal sharp. He didn’t want to talk, didn’t want to rehash old wounds, especially not now, when everything was so new and uncertain.
Draco noticed his hesitation and shot Hermione a cold look. “We’re going to be late,” he drawled, his tone dismissive.
Harry glanced at Draco, then back at Hermione, torn. Despite his reluctance, something in Hermione’s expression made him relent. “Go on without me,” he said to the Slytherins, waving them off. “I’ll catch up later.”
Draco raised an eyebrow but nodded. “Alright, Potter. Don’t be too long.” He led the group away, Pansy casting a disdainful look over her shoulder as they walked off.
Harry gave him a brief nod, and the group continued down the corridor, leaving Harry and Hermione alone. The moment the Slytherins were out of earshot, Harry turned to face Hermione fully, crossing his arms defensively.
“What do you want, Hermione?” he asked, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.
Hermione looked down at her hands, which were nervously twisting the hem of her sleeve. “I…I wanted to talk to you about what happened over the summer,” she began, her voice soft and wavering. “I know you’re angry with us—with me—and you have every right to be. I’m sorry, Harry. Really, I am. I never wanted to hurt you. I just thought…maybe we could fix things after what happened.”
Harry sighed, the anger simmering beneath the surface. “Hermione, we already had this conversation before term started. You and Ron ignored me all summer, and now I’m supposed to just forget about it?”
“I know, and I’m sorry,” Hermione repeated, her eyes pleading. “But it’s not just about that. I’m worried about you, Harry. Being sorted into Slytherin… It doesn’t make sense. Something’s not right.”
Harry’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean by that?”
“I just… I don’t understand how you could end up in Slytherin unless…” She hesitated, clearly struggling to find the right words. “Unless someone influenced it. You-Know-Who, maybe? Or someone else?”
Harry’s temper flared at the implication. “So now you think I’m under some dark influence because I’m in Slytherin? Is that it?”
“No, that’s not what I meant!” Hermione said quickly, but Harry could see the doubt in her eyes. “I just don’t understand how it happened. You’re not like them, Harry. You’re better than that.”
“Better than what, Hermione?” Harry snapped, his voice rising. “Better than Malfoy? Better than the rest of the Slytherin's? They’ve been nothing but decent to me since I got here.”
Hermione took a step back, her face pale. “Harry, I didn’t mean it like that…”
“Then how did you mean it?” Harry shot back. “Because it sounds to me like you’re judging them based on nothing but the house they were sorted into. And me along with them.”
Hermione opened her mouth to respond but faltered, clearly unsure of how to backtrack. “Harry, I just don’t want you to get hurt. I want to understand what’s going on.”
“There’s nothing to understand,” Harry said coldly. “The Sorting Hat wanted to put me in Slytherin in first year, but I asked for Gryffindor. Maybe I shouldn't have. Maybe this is where I belong.”
The revelation seemed to stun Hermione into silence. She stared at Harry, her expression a mix of shock and confusion. “You…you never told us that.”
“Why would I?” Harry replied, his voice dripping with bitterness. “You would’ve reacted just like you are now.”
“No! Harry, we wouldn't!” Hermione started, but Harry cut her off.
“Then where’s Ron?” he demanded, his eyes searching the corridor behind her.
Hermione’s silence was all the confirmation Harry needed. The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, and he shook his head in disbelief. “Unbelievable.”
“Harry, please—”
But Harry didn’t let her finish. He turned on his heel, leaving Hermione standing there speechless. The corridor was cold as he stalked away, his anger burning hot in his chest. He didn’t care where he was going, just that he needed to get away, to put as much distance between himself and the betrayal he felt.
Harry didn’t even notice when he bypassed the Great Hall, his feet carrying him somewhere, anywhere but there. Breakfast was the last thing on his mind. All the emotions churning inside him, made him feel sick.
Unbeknownst to either of them was that just around the corner, hidden in the shadows, Severus Snape had witnessed the entire exchange. The Potions Master’s dark eyes were narrowed in thought, his mind turning over what he had just seen and heard. For the first time, Snape saw something different in Harry Potter—something that wasn’t just a mirror of James Potter’s arrogance but a complexity, a depth that made Snape pause.
He had planned to address Harry later about how his behaviour needed to change in Slytherin. But what he had witnessed had given him pause.
Harry Potter, defending Slytherin? Defending his new housemates with a fervour that even Dumbledore wouldn't have expected? The boy was more complicated than Snape had given him credit for.
As Harry disappeared around a corner, Snape returned to his office, his expression thoughtful. Perhaps the boy wasn’t quite as much like his father as Snape had always believed. Perhaps there was more to Harry Potter than just a scar and a legacy.
And perhaps, just perhaps, he had been wrong about him.
~
Draco sat in the Great Hall, his breakfast untouched as his gaze flickered to the doors every few moments. Harry Potter was nowhere to be seen, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit. Potter was supposed to be sitting with them now, after all, the newest Slytherin. But he wasn’t. And Draco couldn’t shake the odd encounter at the common room door earlier that morning.
He had expected Potter's friends to try and steal him back to the lion den however what struck him was the look on Potter’s face. He hadn’t seemed eager to talk to Granger at all—in fact, if Draco hadn’t known better, he would have said Potter looked angry with her.
“Where do you think Potter is?” Pansy Parkinson’s voice broke through his thoughts, glancing at the empty space on Draco's other side. "Think Granger's kidnapped him back to the lion's den?"
"Wouldn't put it past her." Draco replied, forcing his tone to remain casual. But the truth was, he was curious. What the golden trio breaking up?
Just then, a sleek black owl swooped into the hall, landing gracefully in front of Draco. It bore the Malfoy crest, and Draco's heart skipped a beat. His mother's reply. He quickly took the letter, tucking it into his robes, but not before Pansy noticed.
"What's that?" she asked, her eyes narrowing with curiosity.
"Just a letter from Mother," Draco replied smoothly, his tone dismissive. "You know how she is- can't help but micromanage everything."
Pansy seemed satisfied, though not entirely convinced, but she let the matter drop in favour of speculating with Daphne about what Granger had done with Potter. Draco, however, couldn't wait to read the letter. He needed to know what his mother thought, what she had to say about Sirius, and what she wanted him to do.
As soon as he could, Draco slipped out of the Great Hall and found a quiet corner in the castle. With a quick glance around to ensure he wasn't being watched, he unfolded the letter.
My Dearest Draco,
The brightest star needs time to burn at its brightest. But you must not forget that there is another star rising, one that needs careful guidance to reach its full potential.
When the time is right, the stars will shine together as they should.
With all my love,
Mother.
Draco stared at the words, the message was clear. His mother was telling him to prepare himself for whatever was coming, but more importantly, to ensure that Potter was prepared as well.