Notes: I'm looking into finding a beta reader, but if anyone has any recommendations, I'd be happy to check them out. Please review. (Some have answered the call, but many more have not! So many views, yet so few reviewers...)
There is a poll up on my profile, asking who you would like Harry to be paired with. I know it seems soon, but I have to start setting things up now, so I'd like your opinion. Please vote.
Snape would not shut up. I apologize for those blocks of text down there.
I'm sorry for being late, but life and not knowing how to say what I want to have crushed this chapter. The next one will be out on time, I swear. And this one is short, too... I'm so sorry...
ANYTHING TAKEN FROM THE BOOKS IS NOT MINE, AND BELONGS TO JKR. CLEAR?
Chapter 4: Not According To Plan
September 1, 1991
Hogwarts, Great Hall
"Dear, dear, it appears that you are whom the Headmaster spoke of. Harry Potter, is it? Yes." There was a distinct sense of someone riffling through his memories, and it was quite disturbing. Harry attempted to block the intruder with his Occlumency, but the hat just continued after an amused laugh.
From what he could see of the Great Hall under the hat, the students were gaping at him, probably hoping for a glimpse of the boy who defeated the greatest Dark Lord of the century. Under the hat, he smirked. The gullible idiots. He'd have to tell his Lord of this, even though the man would be displeased and definitely believed in the saying, "Kill the messenger".
"Oh, my, that's interesting. There's really only one place for you, my boy, no matter what the Headmaster says. I suppose I'd better say... SLYTHERIN!"
Harry could tell the hat had shouted that last to the Hall, but simply sat in increasing confusion as three of the tables looked slightly disappointed while one celebrated. And the Gryffindors had no right to be yelling, "We got Potter!" — he wasn't Sorted into Gryffindor.
He felt a tap on his shoulder and Professor McGonagall — with a hint of triumph in her eyes, he was disturbed to note — asked him to take off the hat and walk to his table, please. He was sure she meant the Gryffindor table, and she needed the hat to continue with the Sorting, but he knew there had been a misunderstanding in the Sorting, and so simply handed her the hat and got off the stool, but didn't start walking toward the Gryffindor or Slytherin tables. He sat on the steps patiently, and waited.
The lions looked confused. Of course, they weren't used to using the one brain cell they possessed, so they obviously couldn't understand that someone would not sit where they were 'supposed' to. His fellow Slytherins jeered at him, saying things like, "Sit with your lion friends, Potter!"
Harry called back to them, "Your ears need to be checked, clearly, because I heard Slytherin. I would never willingly be friends with that group of morons. Obviously, there has been an error." He sneered, before continuing in a quieter tone, "Professor, there are still children to Sort."
That seemed to shock her out of her standstill and she continued, clearing her throat and reading out the the next name, "Thomas, Dean!"
Harry sat, and waited for the Sorting to finish. McGonagall tried to shoo him off the stairs, but he simply requested a meeting with the Headmaster. She sighed and motioned to Dumbledore to come, and Harry looked at Snape significantly, hoping he could take a hint. The Potions Master scowled, sent him a dark look, and stood. The Headmaster stood as well, but only so he could say his "few words" before the feast.
"And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"
Harry knew the legendary leader of the Light was barmy now.
Said barmy coot left the staff table, eyes twinkling and starry robes flashing in a rather eye-burning fashion, and Harry followed behind him. He could hear faintly the swish and waft of robes, and knew the Professors were following them.
Dumbledore led them up to his office, the gargoyle looking as fearsome as it had been described in Hogwarts: A History. "Lemon drop!" he exclaimed cheerfully, though his smile was a bit forced and his voice a bit too bright. He was losing.
Harry's inner Gryffindor (everyone had them, some a bit more suppressed than other's) did a mad dance of victory, involving much whooping and cartwheels. Harry's inner self rolled his eyes at him, and turned his attention back to the Headmaster, who had seated himself at his desk and was twinkling at them.
Harry controlled his urge to blink in surprise at the piece of the universe he was missing and seated himself in a chair. Dumbledore waved his wand merrily and conjured two squashy chintz armchairs for the Professors. They looked at them with mirrored expressions of disgust and sat primly on the edge of the cushion, in unison. Dumbledore chuckled and Harry let a small smile flit across his face.
But that was not the point of the meeting. "Headmaster," Harry began, hoping this could get his attention. "We have a meeting we need to complete."
"Ah, yes, thank you, my boy. Well, Severus, Minerva, Mr Potter, there seems to be a bit of argument on which House this child was Sorted into."
"Yes, even though the whole hall heard the hat shout Gryffindor, where he belongs." Snape sneered.
"I disagree," Harry said quietly. "I most definitely heard it Sort me into Slytherin, and I'll thank you not to lump me in with those idiotic loud-mouths."
McGonagall looked offended, and Harry reconsidered his open insults. He would have to bury them instead of stating them, something no Gryffindor could figure out. Dumbledore blinked, and his twinkles faded slightly. "I suppose we'll have to ask the hat, then," he said, an odd aura starting to surround him. It was... almost—
"Why, Headmaster, that boy's a Slytherin, all the way through. I wouldn't have Sorted him into Gryffindor. I did feel a glamour on me then, though, so at least you have a lead."
Dumbledore's eyes... He couldn't quite place the emotion in them. "I see. Thank you, hat."
"Anytime, Albus."
With what seemed to be a bit of an effort, the Headmaster composed himself and twinkled at them merrily. "Well, let's all go down to the feast, shall we?"
"...I must tell you that the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to those who do not wish to die a very painful death. Finally, regarding the Sorting of one Mr Potter, he has been placed in Slytherin. For the person who put a sound glamor over the hat, it was not funny, and if you are caught we will be considering suspension or — in the worst case — expulsion. If you have any information or want to confess, please go to a teacher. And now, before we go to bed, we must sing the school song!"
Harry thought it was rather idiotic to say they were considering expulsion right before asking the students to turn someone in. It didn't matter who it was, it would be betraying one of their own to the adults. Except, of course, if it was a Gryffindor ratting out a Slytherin, or vice versa.
He observed the teachers' forced smiles with trepidation and a sense of foreboding, and decided to wait through the song without singing.
"Everyone pick your favorite tune, and off we go!"
"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."
Everyone finished at different times, until only a pair of red-headed twins (Weasleys, obviously) were left singing to a very slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted the last few lines and wiped a tear from his eye. "Ah, music," he said, "a magic beyond all that we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
A large Slytherin with a badge on his chest that read "P" called for the first years, motioning them toward him with a wave of his hand. Harry followed the rest of them, quietly waiting with his yearmates for them to be led to the dungeons. The prefect, for that was who he was, introduced himself as Marcus Flint, a sixth year (1). He said Professor Snape would likely give them a Start of Term speech, telling them the rules and such, and so they were to follow him down to the Common Room. Flint led them across the entrance hall and down a flight of stairs, into what Harry presumed were the dungeons.
The trip was a bit long, but they got there after Snape, who was standing in the middle of the common room looking intimidating. "Alright, sit down, no talking," he snapped, and the Slytherins did so while most of them attempted to make it seem like their own idea. They were a lot like cats that way.
"Welcome," he said, sweeping back and forth in front of them, "to Slytherin House. Each of you are expected to hold up certain standards which will not be broken on pain of detention. My detentions can be very unpleasant and I advise you not to tempt fate. These standards are essential for a mostly-peaceful seven years here, as you will see from the Gryffindors tomorrow.
"Slytherins will, at all times, stick together. I don't particularly care if you don't like someone, keep your fights to a minimum and in the Common Room only. You are not to travel the halls after supper alone. If the only person available is this person you hate, well— it is better to be in uncomfortable silence than hexed. We must present an unbreakable front to the school, even if this is not the case. If they find any weaknesses, we will be destroyed.
"There will be no mention of any kind of Dark magic. The rest of the school seems to think it is evil, as does the Ministry, and you could be expelled if you frequently refer to anyone — yourself included — using it. There will also be no speaking of the Dark Lord. Anyone who does so might provide enough evidence to get someone arrested, and no one likes a tattle-tale." He seemed to be glaring a bit at Harry when he said this, and Harry quickly ducked his head.
"You will complete all your schoolwork satisfactorily. If you cannot, or would like to check that it is so, ask a prefect or me. Similarly, if you have any questions about your classwork or school rules, ask a prefect or me.
"About school rules, you are not to get caught. This is true of anything. If you are caught, I don't want you in my House, because you were stupid or careless, and therefore not worthy of being in Slytherin House. Now off to bed with you, and don't disappoint me tomorrow."
The students shuffled off to their dormitories, some yawning, others blinking in their tiring state. Harry was about to follow when his Head of House called him back. He turned, keeping his eyes lowered. "Yes, sir?"
Snape sneered in distaste. "Follow me, Mr Potter."
He was led out of the Common Room and up to the Professor's office, where Snape gestured for him to sit in a chair before his desk. He sat meekly, not knowing what he had done to earn the ire of the Potions Master. When he glanced up, Snape was sitting behind his desk staring at him.
"Mr Potter, you must know that I will not tolerate any transgressions from you, ever. If you so much as put a toe out of line and I hear about it, you shall be punished. I don't want to hear of the same kind of arrogance your father displayed, am I clear?"
"With all due respect, sir, James Potter neither was, is, or will be any father of mine."
Snape looked slightly startled, then masked it as quickly as he could. "Am I clear, Mr Potter?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. You may go."
The door closed with an ominous thud.
(1): I looked on the Lexicon, and it stated that Flint was a sixth year Quidditch captain who repeated his seventh year. I'm simply assuming he was a prefect who got his badge taken away later. If anyone has evidence to the contrary, I'd like to hear it, as long as you don't go off on a The Reason You Suck Speech or something similar, because those hurt my feelings.
If you're wondering why Harry's being shy all of a sudden, he's acting. When in doubt, act apologetic, after all.
Next one might be longer, but certainly will be up in time. See you next week!