3
I've been in the bathroom for half an hour trying to fix the mess that is my hair. Pansy has a huge mania for touching and stroking me all over my head in a very unpleasant way; she even tries to comb it! My hair has gel in it! It's not easy to comb it; it can't be combed, and besides, it didn't need to be combed; it was already combed. It's very annoying when she touches my hair, and all I want is to get her hand away from me, her whole existence away from me!
With gel in hand and a fine comb, I arduously put everything back in its place; there is not a hair that escapes the weight of the cream, and even less of me, who has been fighting against my hair for years. After a while of unnecessary, unpleasant contact on my scalp, I manage to get it perfect. I wash my hands thoroughly. I hate the feeling of the gel on my palms, is disgustingly sticky. I put on my uniform. I check that the shirt covers my torso and arms well and completely, and then I put the cape over it. The heat is a little uncomfortable, but nothing I can't tolerate.
I return to the compartment only to see everyone gathering their things. Without thinking too much, I start to grab everything as well. Luckily, as everyone is on their own, no one tries to start an empty and pointless conversation. Many times I'm thankful that at least most of my companions seem to understand the moments of and for speech...Most of them.
—Drackyyy! We're about to arrive at Hogwarts! Aren't you excited?— I look at her, really looking her in the eye, even if I hate to do it. I know my face transparently shows my long-suffering irritation at her. Did she really had to speak? I was quite at peace without hearing that resonant and painfully unpleasant voice echoing in my ear. —Neither am I— she adds quickly, seeing that I don't even reply or match her enthusiasm. Of course I'm excited! How could I not be? But Pansy mentioning it just makes me dislike it, as if the fact that I like the same things she likes is disgusting and I should hide it completely. —We're going to be in Slytherin and be in the same house, even share classes! Sadly, not room, but they say there are ways and-— She went on jabbering, I was very tempted to send her a silencing charm to shut her up for once. I think it would have been something the whole carriage would have been grateful for. Unlucky her roommates at Hogwarts, but at least I can stay away from her, even if she does vigorously fantasize about sleeping in the same room as me, which I find stupid and pointless. What does she think would be different? What does she think would happen? She could only bother me earlier and later, so there were no pros, only cons.
I step off the train with an empty mind. As if my body is moving on its own, with my bags in hand, I walk through the corridors. I pass around people; I don't look at them; I don't think; I just go on. I get on the boat without noticing who's going to sit next to me, and I see Hogwarts. And I see Hogwarts. The sight of the castle for the first time in my life will be impossible for me to forget. There is something about the castle being so big that is overwhelming. I don't think I'll ever in my whole life feel the same way I feel when I see the school; I haven't even been inside, and it's already my favorite place in the world. No matter what problems I might have with Potter, no matter how my classes go, it's as if in these moments the outside world doesn't exist, my surname doesn't exist, people don't exist, my family doesn't exist, and, above all, my father doesn't exist. Hogwarts is the dream I have been longing for since I was seven years old, the dream that I didn't know was soon a necessity, one that would finally be fulfilled the moment I walked through those doors.
Suddenly I'm back in the real world; the sounds return, and with it the information. We're about to go down, or so says the giant, who I wouldn't be surprised if it was that "Hagrid" that Harry and Potter mentioned in the shop. I look around for the Weasley-Potter duo, only to see them a few boats ahead; of course, they were even going to get to Hogwarts first.
After walking a couple of steps, the ranger knocked three times on the giant door. The whole floor shook, and the screws of the door creaked as he felt it open. Standing behind it was a witch in emerald green robes, something that color reminds me of, but it's not important right now. She has a stern look on her face, and suddenly I know who she is. Minerva McGonagall, she taught my father. Gryffindor and with clear favoritism for her own house, of which, of course, she was head. I didn't want to get on bad terms with her; however, if something were to happen, my father is on the board of governors. It would not please him at all to know that I have conflicts with her; I am very clear that he would not stand idly by. I shudder at the thought of her possible reaction. He made it clear to me to talk to her as little as possible, especially considering she is one of Dumbledore's favorites.
—Welcome to Hogwarts— Her voice could only be described as neutral; there was not a hint of emotion behind her words. —The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.— If I didn't know which house I would be joining, I would be a little excited to find a new circle to call family, but I can see clearly who will be around me for the next few years, and it's not promising, but at least it's not my dad. Because of all that and, product of McGonagall saying that the houses would be supposed to be families, I let out a small laugh; it didn't even last two seconds; it was just funny. It's clear to me that it's not like that; everyone should have it clear, at least everyone who will go to Slytherin.
—The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin— I honestly don't listen to any more of their words. Everything important I could possibly say I've already learned backwards and forwards; I've been brought up since I was old enough to behave properly at Hogwarts, the place where I was going to be most exposed to social interactions and status. Everything affects my family's future, and I am the biggest part of it. I am the heir, the one who has to follow the example my parents have left me and always uphold the name I carry with dignity. I should be proud of my name; after all, I am a Malfoy. —I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.— of course I will. I can't say or doubt which house I'll be in; it's been clear to me ever since I knew how Hogwarts was divided, I'd be a Slytherin. And like my father, I am the person with the most votes and political power in the house, the new "prince" of Slytherin, not a nickname I hate.
A few minutes later, the teacher leads us into the Great Dining Hall, everyone whispering as we follow her. Luckily for me, neither Crabbe nor Goyle try to start any kind of conversation, not that they're any good at it either; it's best for everyone. We walk down the corridors as the occasional cadre waves at us. I can see the muggle children being surprised and even frightened by them. What stupidity! What are the paintings supposed to do? Stand still?
Candles fill the large dining room, thousands of them floating above the heads of the students and teachers. I hear several sighs and surprised noises coming from the group; everyone is looking up. Unable to resist, I look up and can't contain a slight noise. It's full of constellations, I smile slightly. There is something about the stars, and specifically the constellations, that is certainly captivating. I move my eyes quickly across the ceiling, looking for myself. Narcissus, I smile again, my mum, I like her constellation...But I don't lose my focus looking at this one and rather keep searching. Orion, Cassiopeia, and...Draco! There I am. I am well aware that my mother was adamant that she wished to continue the family tradition, and luckily for both of us, my father did not protest, but he did demand that my middle name be Lucius, following his own tradition of always putting his father's name as my middle name. I suppose that's all right.
I have been distracted by the constellations for a long time. I am aware that they have already started calling for the selection, and I know that I am still to be named, so it's not like I'm worried either.
—Draco Malfoy— my face is decorated with a minor smile instinctively; it feels good. Yes, I'm proud of my name. I felt sudden stares on me. I don't hate them; they're not my favorite things either, although I'm kind of used to them, and I often get involved in situations that leave me in the same position, so I have to assume that I hardly care about them anymore. I walk very calmly; why wouldn't I? I mean, I'm Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Malfoy, formerly Black, I come from two renowned families known for being quintessential Slytherins. I look out of the corner of my eye at some of the attentive children as if what was about to happen wasn't crushingly obvious. It would be an absolute absurdity to even imagine being part of any other house. I finish my walk when I get to where I'm supposed to. I sit down, I'm ready, I'm calm, and I know full well that I'm Slytherin, nothing but Slytherin.
I look ahead, I see so many children and I'm not sure if it was on purpose or not that my eyes sought Harry Potter's eyes. I'm deeply disappointed, but I'm still looking for him, and in looking, I find, and so I saw him whispering with that git, Weasley. He turns his gaze, and his emerald orbs catch the greyness of my own. We look at each other, and it feels like forever. I don't like this contact; it's awkward, but we held it for too long...maybe it was only three seconds, but it felt like ages.
—Looking at Potter, Draco— I shudder as I feel the voice in my head, most likely that of the hat. Not just the fact that it was there; how else would the hat talk to me? But because of what it said, I wasn't seeing Harry Potter, and if I was, it wouldn't be nearly as important as his tone wrongly inferred. —Mmmm, I see several options here— What? —Yes, Slytherin is a possibility, but Ravenclaw seems to be a good choice. Creativity? Mhm, yes, quite a bit, especially when it comes to playing instruments. Maybe you should ease up on them a bit, don't you think? But I can see the talent, or rather, the effort. Many famous musicians have come out of Ravenclaw, not to mention that the common room has several instruments, including a harp, Draco. You could play as much as you want, you could make your own works, you could let yourself flow over the instrument, but not like you usually do; really let yourself enjoy it. Leaving aside all that stuff. Your curiosity would make you fit in very well with the crows. Imagine having information all the time and being with people who are also fascinated by the same subjects as you— No, I mean, it wouldn't be so bad; in fact, it sounds good, but couldn't I be better in Slytherin? —You could be, yes, but I don't think it's the right house for you. I'd say to choose Ravenclaw, but if you're really that upset, you could go to Gryffind-— No! —Let me finish. It wouldn't be as perfect as Ravenclaw, but you'd probably be happy there in Gryffindor; you'll find real friends— Please, not Gryffindor, really, even Ravenclaw, not Hufflepuff, of course, but please, not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor, not Gryffindor. I can't go to Gryffindor; what would I do there, Draco Malfoy being a Gryffindor? Absolute madness! Just thinking about it makes my father furious; he wouldn't even wait for the holidays; he'd show up here in a rage, fuming, rage-made person; it would be really horrible. Why don't you just give me Slytherin, for goodness sake? Everyone knows I'm my parents' son; I'm a Slytherin par excellence! I'm a Slytherin, I'm a Slytherin, I'm a Slytherin! —Being a Slytherin will take away your chances of finding what you need. You know the people you'll have to live with in Slytherin; they're not the people you want in your life— Slytherin, please —If you insist—
—Slytherin!— My whole body relaxes at that word, at the confirmation of my house. I'm a Slytherin, there's no turning back. That's the way it has to be.
I walk to my new table, noticing all eyes on me. A loud applause echoes through the large dining hall, slightly louder than the selections of others. I am Draco Malfoy after all. I sit down at the table, confidently smiling at my...friends; my selection was instant for the others, or so I am told. The hat touched my head, and shouted Slytherin, to no one's surprise. That calms me down too; it wouldn't have been nice if it had taken as long for it to take in everyone's eyes as long as it actually did.
I don't pay much attention to other people's choices; they're not relevant. Most people seem to be of the same opinion as the applause becomes more and more sparse with each boy chosen.
—Harry Potter— The entire dining hall falls silent; there isn't a wizard who doesn't want to know which house the savior of the magical world will go to, which house will be honored with his presence, and which house will have his innate preference.
The minutes pass, the whispering starts, and the teachers start whispering to each other. I only notice Harry; he's shaking his head and even whispering something. I try to read his lips; curiosity kills me. What could he be saying that is so important that I can't just think about it? I focus my eyes and concentrate all my attention on Potter's lips, trying my best to read them. I could quickly identify that the first thing he was saying was no; now the second is what I'm trying to figure out. S- Sl-...Slytherin, Harry Potter is begging not to be in Slytherin.
Despite how miserable I feel, I am about to start laughing at the irony of the situation. Harry, the great Potter savior of the magical world, is begging not to go to the house of evil, the house where I am, the house I begged to go to. I would say I don't understand why he doesn't want to come, but I understand it more than he would believe. The magical world would judge him and probably hate him so much that it would be unbearable; it would be a life of misery. His status as a golden savior is as much a weight on his back as the Malfoy name is on mine. There's a small part of me that wishes the hat would ignore him, ignore his pleas, pleas and pleas to be in Slytherin, to be in Slytherin with me. I know he's an arsehole; I know he's not worth it, but I just can't let go. Even though I want this stupid feeling of hope to fade away completely, I still feel that somehow I could start over with Harry Potter.
—Gryffindor!— Of course, being in Slytherin wouldn't be the case; it was too fanciful, too unrealistic. I'm not disappointed; I knew Potter obviously wouldn't be in Slytherin. I'm just annoyed that there was even a trace of hope that it would happen; it didn't make any sense.
The whole dining hall was filled with applause, to my zero surprise, who wouldn't love the boy who lived in Gryffindor? He lived up to everyone's expectations of him, just as I did, each one destined for their own house.
When the food appears, I am not surprised; in my house, the house elves do the same. They are there to serve and not be seen; everyone knows that. Well, except for the many Muggle-born children I hear murmuring in surprise. I grab some mash and a piece of chicken. I don't need any more to fill me up right now; I don't even know if I'll be able to finish my portion. I don't feel up to choking on food right now; I just want to get my dinner over with.
None of the words Dumbledore mentions interest me; it's only when I see my new housemates get up that I realize the feast is over. I follow the great line of Slytherins out the huge door of the Great Dining Hall, through corridors, and down and up moving staircases. We were reminded several times to watch out for them, because apparently they love to trick students and make them miss classes, especially if they are first-year students.
What a good school Hogwarts seems to be; not only are there poor redheads thirsty for young souls, but also the structures of the school work against you. Wonderful.
I begin to feel the temperature drop as we approach the common room, the corridors becoming empty, the lights dimming. It seems as if the castle is reminding us that we are not the same as the other houses. Our nature is dark, is poisonous.
After walking for a while more, I see the prefect staring at a wall. She doesn't seem to have anything special, but I guess she's going to do something —Ancestor— as soon as those words leave her mouth, a huge snake appears surrounding a door? No, not a door; more like an entrance, the entrance to the common room.
—Welcome to Slytherin— The other boy, who I assume is the other Slytherin prefect, speaks for the first time all the way in. The room we are introduced to is...lavish, to say the least, pompous, ostentatious, extravagant, almost pedantic, yet undoubtedly impressive to look at. Even to me, a Malfoy, the common room looks impressive. Two stone fireplaces with seemingly green fires faintly illuminate the armchairs in front of them. I fix my eyes on a black bookcase that seems to cover an entire wall. The amount of books is staggering, I see titles of books that I am aware are not for sale in any ordinary shop. Many Slytherins seem to be swarming around it, trying to check out books unnoticed, as if every single thing to be read is forbidden fruit. I wouldn't be surprised to find spells my father talks about privately in them. Again, it is impressive. Knowledge is as prized in Slytherin as it is in Ravenclaw, but the price to be paid for it is not taken lightly; nothing is shared for free, least of all something as valuable as information. Knowledge is currency here.
As several of us first years were distracted by the glorious common room, someone older came in, but it was clear that most of us were still going about our business, looking this way and that. The man who entered cleared his voice, a deep voice. Everyone ended up paying attention, and anyone who hadn't after that was either hit in the back of the head or lightly shoved by the arm by one of the other new Slytherins. When I see him and my smile is immediate, my countenance always crossed in unconsciousness, calmed just as unconsciously at the sight of him. I felt children tremble at his mere presence, which is ridiculous; why would they be afraid of him? Maybe it would make sense to me if they were goofy Hufflepuffs or muggleborns, but they're not, and yet there seem to be children seconds away from peeing on his robes. Disgusting. —Welcome to Hogwarts— was the first thing he said, looking sideways at several of the children who were trembling in fear with an expression where I could clearly make out some confusion, clearly, why were they scared again?
—I introduce myself. My name is Severus Snape— Snape has always had a strange way of speaking, stretching out the first letter of what he said, especially if it was an "S" as if he were a snake. It's as if he didn't learn to speak properly when he was little. Anyway, it's a funny thing to hear. —I'm the current head of house for Slytherin. I'm also going to be their potions teacher this year— I've got a head start! I know a lot about potions! For as long as I can remember, I've been very fond of that area, and Snape never hesitated to answer anything I asked him about potions, their recipes, and their ingredients. Although I have never been able to put them into practice, I am very advanced in theory. —All of you are part of this house now, there is no turning back. You are Slytherins now and forever, but believe me, as long as you have the characteristics of the house, you will never regret it.— I hesitated a little when I heard that, but I let the thought go. It's true that the hat said I would fit better in other houses, but the hat confirmed that I can be a Slytherin. I am not forcing my place here; now I am also one more of the great political cogs that is the house of Salazar. —As the headmaster said, the house cup is awarded according to the amount of points given to each house until the end of the year— As far as I knew, Slytherin had already won the house cup several times, one of them in my father's graduation year, something he shares quite enthusiastically several times a month —Gain points, and make sure you don't lose them. The rooms on the right are for women, and the ones on the left are for men. Their names are written on the doors so that you can identify which one you will be staying in— the dormitories! I had forgotten that I would start sharing a room every day, every year, with the same people. At least Pansy won't be able to ask me to go to her dormitory, as if my own displeasure wasn't enough of a barrier, the magic of the school would prevent me from doing so as well —The curfew starts at ten and ends at half past seven for breakfast. During the time it lasts, you are absolutely forbidden to leave the common room. If you do, the punishment will be a massive loss of points with at least a month of detention— I definitely don't plan on even leaving the dormitory at night. Besides, I need my sleep. It's clear to me that losing a lot of points in my first year as a Slytherin isn't exactly going to make things any easier here, not to mention that my godfather would be very disappointed in me if he found out I did that. Clearly, as he's head of house, it would be best if I followed the rules at face value; that would please him quite a lot. I know I'll make his job easier. I'll please him. —Go up to your dormitories and get some sleep. This is going to be your first night at Hogwarts; you'll want to get used to the timetable quickly.—
I wanted to approach, to exchange words with him; it's been a long time since I've really seen my godfather. But my so-called friends drag me towards the rooms, and I only manage to exchange glances with him. I gesture to him; I don't know if I'm waving or saying goodbye to him before I'm completely dragged away, but Snape gives me a discreet smile, I guess it's that discreet because of the crowd of children, and answers me with the same gesture. Thus, and quite against my will, I was dragged to find which room I was supposed to be in.
It was one of the first doors in a long corridor; this one was lined with doors that I guessed led to rooms; the closest to the common room were the first years. I guess that makes sense. On our door were written the four surnames —Crabbe, Goyle, Malfoy, Nott— I hear Goyle? read the writing out loud over and over again. Is he so stupid that, in addition to not understanding what he reads, he also has to read it out loud for all of us to hear? I don't know if I can stand seven years at Hogwarts with these two idiots in the same year, let alone in the same room. I suppose Nott is fine; if I had my choice, he'd be one of my first choices, so it doesn't bother me in the slightest.
There are four beds placed in each corner of the room, wooden wardrobes, a small window looking into the bathroom, and a gigantic carpet that will be my biggest nightmare. I enter first and choose my bed at the same time, mentally sorting out who's bed will be which. Me on the top right, Nott on the bottom of the same side, and Crabbe and Goyle on the left. Said and done, I sat on the bed I wanted, and then it was Nott who sat where I had imagined, leaving Crabbe and Goyle with no choice but to take the beds on the left. Not that they looked disappointed either; they didn't look like anything; they didn't think much either...that sort of thing.
I start to arrange my things on the available furniture. I see one of the rhinos open his mouth to try to say something, but he shuts up quickly. I guess his neurons collapsed one after the other before even making a sound. Did the other one just turn to look at him and nod for some reason? I'm not going to spend my time thinking about that, not that I'm interested in the strange things that happen between the two of them.I go into the bathroom first to get ready before going to bed. I don't last long in there before Theo starts knocking on the door —Draco, can you tell me what the heck are you doing in the bathroom for so long? Come out at once. I have to go in— I don't answer, as if he could go in with the door already locked. Let him wait.
After hogging the bathroom, as Nott would call it, I get under the covers. They're a bit uncomfortable, not at all like the ones I have at home. I toss and turn in them for a long time until I get tired. By the time I'm done, all the lights in the room are out except for my bed, everyone is asleep, and I can't stop thinking. Even though I'm aware of what time I'm supposed to wake up tomorrow, I can't stop thinking about those big, bright, stupid, miserable green eyes. Harry disappointment Potter, my blood boils just thinking about everything that's happened today, I'd say it was all that bloody Weasley's fault if it weren't for the fact that I saw him in Madame Malkin's shop, and I could tell he was a disgusting git! How is it even possible that this sub-being, who barely seems to be able to stand and has more forehead than torso, is the boy who lived!? utterly ridiculous! Besides my stupid, pointless hope, of course! Harry bloody Potter in Slytherin! Do I have as little brains as Crabbe and Goyle? I should have thrown all illusions out of the window the moment he wouldn't accept my friendship, wouldn't even shake my hand, and insulted me in the process! He's too blind to reject the friendship of a Malfoy; you can tell he knows nothing about the magical world, and he never will thanks to that Weasley. Now he'll be swimming in the company of dirty bloods and blood traitors; he's already a half-blood, if only he'd gotten into Slytherin...No! It would have been exactly the same: Harry Potter is not going to change; he is the savior of the magical world; he will always be right; he will always believe he is right; he will regret not having accepted this house, his right house; he will regret not having accepted my hand; he will regret not having accepted my friendship; he will regret not having accepted Draco Malfoy. Harry Potter will regret it.