Harry was too relieved that he didn't end up as a hatstall and was with Draco and Pansy to notice the way only Slytherins cheered and clapped for him on his short walk over. It was only when he had sat down in between Draco and Pansy and had looked around did he realise that for all the other first-years, they had gotten a few polite claps from the other tables, despite being in different houses.

Instead, every other house, especially the Gryffindors and even most teachers, were staring at him in shock. Harry ducked his head to stare at the empty table in front of him when the whispers started up again.

"Harry Potter? A Slytherin? No way."

"Potter's a Slytherin! What does this mean?"

There were many others, all variations of the two. Harry couldn't understand why this was.

"Harry," someone whispered. He looked up at Draco's still-composed face. "Ignore them. They're just jealous. The other Slytherins are all proud, see?"

Harry couldn't resist the temptation and sat up. What Draco had said about the Slytherins was mostly true, aside from one or two of the older students who were scowling at the redhead. Harry averted his gaze back towards the Sorting. Draco and Pansy slung an arm around his shoulders and out of the corner of his eye, he could see them glaring daggers at any student who dared to even look his way. He relaxed minutely, grateful for them.

"Weasley, Ronald."

Harry watched intently as Ron walked up the stool. Like Draco, the hat had barely touched the boy's head before declaring him a Gryffindor. Harry clapped enthusiastically, noting that Fred, George and Percy were doing the same. Ron seemed to sense his gaze, as a moment later, he looked over and waved cheerily.

Harry had been a little worried that Ron would snub him like the rest of the school had done, but in the end, he needn't have. He waved back.

The last first-year to be sorted, Blaise Zabini, looked at him weirdly. The other Slytherins, aside from Pansy, Draco, Crabbe and Goyle (the last two too busy complaining about the lack of food), shared the same expression.

"What?" Harry asked.

"Potter, please tell me I didn't see you just wave to a Gryffindor." The scorn was evident in Blaise's voice.

Harry suppressed a sigh. Maybe hating my friends is another one of those wizarding customs I'm unaware of,' Harry thought sarcastically.

Draco, who appeared to be resigning himself to the exact same thought, cut in. "Look, Blaise. Gryffindors are okay. Harry, Pansy and I know three of them and they've all been... reasonably nice." Seeing Blaise's disapproving look, he added, "Well, one of them was a blubbering mess and the other was rude and bossy, but –" he saw Zabini smiling smugly and scowled. "It's not like you can talk, though."

Blaise still didn't look convinced.

"Zabini, stop being a close-minded prat. That Gryffindor is a friend of Harry Potter's. Don't you think that ought to mean something?" Pansy rolled her eyes. What she said must have had more effect on him, as a second later, he apologised.

"Sorry, Potter," he muttered.

"No problem." Harry waved him off. "It's not like it hasn't happened before."

Draco and Pansy gave him guilty looks.

Everyone's attentions were brought back to the front of the Hall as the eldest wizard of the teaching staff stood up. Harry recognised him as Albus Dumbledore from the Chocolate Frog card he had read on the train. He started trying to recall what the card had said – something about a dark wizard, dragon's blood and a guy called Nick... No, that can't be it. Nicolas, perhaps? Yes. Now what was his last name?

Harry was broken out of his thoughts at the sound of gasps filling the Hall. Apparently he was so distracted that he didn't hear Dumbledore's speech. He looked down and saw that the previously empty golden plates were now filled with every kind of food imaginable. His mouth watered. He saw the rest of the Slytherins serving themselves and quickly followed suit.

Harry had never seen so much food in his life. He piled his plate with some of everything – excluding a type of unappealing boiled sweet.

–

Harry had finished a quarter of what was on his plate – which, despite not sounding like much, was quite a feat,  considering how he wasn't used to eating that much and the sheer amount of food he had hoarded – when a ghost captured his attention. Or, to put it more accurately, drifted through him.

The cold-shower-on-the-inside feeling gave Harry a nasty shock, but, believe it or not, that wasn't what had made him lose his appetite. I hope ghosts don't make going through me a habit, Harry thought, as the ghost finally noticed what it had done. It floated above the table in front of him instead. The redhead blanched as he took in the ghost's bloodied robes, gaunt face, sunken eyes and pale complexion.

Draco didn't look too happy with the ghost's general appearance either.

"First-years," the ghost greeted with a curt nod. "I am your house ghost. You may call me the Bloody Baron – only the Bloody Baron." A few of the Slytherins around him, including Harry, gulped. "I expect you all to win us the House Championship for the seventh year in a row. I hope you will not disappoint me."

This was all said very threateningly.

The Bloody Baron was called away by some older Slytherin. Harry sighed in relief, before pushing his almost completely full plate away. He glanced at Draco and saw the boy looking worried for a brief second, but then Harry blinked and the boy was already chatting to Blaise about something. Harry shrugged it off.

After a while, it became apparent that most of the first-year Slytherins knew each other from before Hogwarts, aside from two girls. One was very tall, towering over most of the Slytherin boys, with wild black hair. Harry thought he would not like to cross her at all. She introduced herself as Millicent Bulstrode.

The other was quite the opposite. She was on the small side of average for an eleven-year-old girl's height, with tan skin and straight brown hair. This girl pushed up her glasses that, unlike Harry's, suited her quite well, and announced, "Tracey Davis."

Having finished long before everyone else, it gave Harry time to survey the staff table. Among them was Hagrid, who was drinking deeply from his goblet, Professor McGonagall, who was having a chat with Professor Dumbledore and a bunch of other teachers. The one that Harry was most interested in, however, was talking to Professor Quirrell.

The unknown teacher had raven-black hair, a hooked nose and unhealthily pale skin. He must have sensed Harry's gaze, because suddenly he was looking straight at him. At the same time, an iron-hot pain flashed across the scar on Harry's forehead.

"Ow!" he cried, pressing a hand to his scar, but the pain was already gone. In its place, an uncomfortable feeling settled in.

"What happened?" Draco asked immediately. His worry only worsened when he saw how Harry was rubbing his scar.

"Nothing." Draco kept looking at him. Desperate to change the subject, Harry then asked, "Draco, who's that teacher talking to Professor Quirrell?"

Draco turned around. Upon seeing who Harry meant, his face lit up. "Oh, that's Professor Snape. He's the head of Slytherin and our Potions teacher."

Harry recalled Draco telling him that on the boats earlier. Dread filled his stomach. "Right," he mumbled. Malfoy didn't pursue it further.

"So, what did you all do on your holidays?" Daphne Greengrass asked out of nowhere. "My family went to Paris! Such a shame, really. My sister and I wanted to go someplace else for a change." She pouted. Daphne was blonde, tall, fair and pretty – kind of like the female version of Draco, Harry mused.

"My mother decided we needed mother-daughter bonding time," Pansy mocked, "so instead of going overseas like we usually do, we were stuck in our manor doing nothing aside from sitting and talking while my father was 'away on business' at the Ministry. I did find out some good gossip, however. Blaise, why don't you tell us what your mother has been up to?" Heads swivelled to the Zabini boy, who was scowling.

"Bugger off, Parkinson. But if you must know, my dear mother has a new suitor in her sights," he said casually.

"What happened to the old one?" Theodore Nott taunted, not seeming to expect a real answer. He didn't get one. "I spent my holiday travelling across Europe. We got to meet the local wizards, though, more interestingly, I learnt about Ancient Rome. Did you know powerful wizards used to make muggles fight each other as a sport? I believe the muggles were called gladiators – something like that."

"Don't muggles do that now without wizards controlling them?" Blaise pointed out. "Anyway, what about you, Potter?"

Everyone turned to face him. Harry didn't know what to say. 'Oh, my relatives kept me locked in a cupboard while you were all off with your families and half-starved me after I accidentally set a snake on my cousin at the zoo. Also, I only found out I was a wizard after Hagrid knocked down the door to a hut on a rock surrounded by sea. It's a funny story on how I got there, why don't I tell you? Yeah, because that will go down well,' he thought bitterly.

Instead, he said, "What about Millicent and Tracey? We haven't heard from them yet."

Tracey spoke first. "My father, the wizard in my family, taught me some spells. I mostly spent the summer practising wand movements. My muggle mother tried to teach me how to cook, but it didn't go very well." She grimaced.

Millicent was next. "My mother gave me fashion magazines. I used incendio on Witch Weekly until she got the hint."

Harry wondered if he should point out that magic wasn't allowed outside of school for underage wizards, but after seeing the others' approving nods, he wasn't sure.

"Now you, Potter. Surely the saviour of the wizarding world would've done something interesting over the holidays," she demanded.

Harry gulped. There was no way he could pass it on to Crabbe or Goyle, as they were too busy stuffing their mouths with as much food as possible. Before he could think up a lie, however, Dumbledore stood up again.

"Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered," the wizard called out. "I have a few start-of-term notices to give you. First-years should note the forest in the grounds is strictly forbidden to all pupils." He droned on, telling them about the no-magic rule in corridors, Quidditch trials, and, most interestingly, about the third-floor corridor ban.

Harry must have spent too long wondering if he was serious about the whole "painful death" thing, as soon they were being called to the front of a tall Slytherin student. She had the same shiny badge with a 'P' on it that Percy had.

"First-years, over here please! My name is Gemma Farley and I'll be leading you to your dormitories. Please remember that no one from other houses are allowed into our common room, so keep the password to yourselves. Follow me!"

As she led them away from the feast and down a staircase or two, the first-years all happily chatted amongst themselves.

"That was the most food I've ever seen – let alone had!" Harry laughed. Draco shot him a surprised look. It looked like he was about to say something when someone commented on the temperature drop. Harry shivered when he realised that it was pretty cold in what must have been the Hogwarts' dungeons.

"You'll get used to it!" Gemma called over her shoulder. They kept walking until they were in front of a blank stone wall.

Harry thought there must have been a mistake, or that maybe you had to tap the bricks in a pattern like Hagrid had done to get into Diagon Alley until Gemma said clearly, "Meracus." This must have been the password they were expected to remember as a second later, the wall slid across to reveal a passageway. At the end was a well-lit room, with mostly green furnishings. All around were large windows that showed the murky water outside, giving the room a green tinge. Harry figured they were surrounded by the lake.

"The password changes every fortnight, so you need to keep checking the notices," Gemma explained. "You see that stairway to your left that leads downwards? Those are the boy dormitories. The one on the right are the girls. A fair warning: boys cannot enter girl dormitories. If you have any questions, don't hesitate to come to me or any of the other Slytherin Prefects. Our Head of House is Professor Snape, who you can also come to. I think that's all – I forget things easily – so off you go!"

With that, the first-years took it as their cue to race to the separate dormitories. The boys shoved their way into their new room and laughed as they sprinted to claim the best bed. Harry followed behind them at a more subdued pace, but he was just as excited as the rest of them.

The boys' dormitories were luxurious. The first things Harry noticed as he entered were the six queen-sized, four-poster beds with thick green curtains hanging off them and the wall at the back of the room. As the boys around him fought over beds, Harry took in the glass wall that separated the dorm from what must have been the lake they travelled over an hour or so ago. As he watched, he saw lake creatures of all sizes dart around, too fast to identify. He swore he saw a human for a second, but then it was gone and all he could see was a large tail disappearing around the corner.

"Harry, hurry up and get over here!" Draco called, snapping Harry out of his thoughts.

The blond had saved him the bed next to him. It was one of the closest to the only fireplace in the room and it was near the breath-taking window. Harry smiled gratefully as he rushed over to flop onto it before Blaise – who had been eyeing it off – or anyone else could take it.

He shot an apologetic look at Zabini. The boy just grumbled under his breath and stalked over to one of the other beds. Blaise was the last one to drag his trunk out of the pile of their belongings that had been brought up and to his new bed.

There were three beds on each side of the room: three against the glass wall and three on the side they had entered through. Draco and Theo, on each side respectively, were the closest to the fireplace. Next to Draco was Harry, then Blaise, and next to Theo was Crabbe, then Goyle. The two latter were already asleep and snoring rather loudly. Harry almost pitied Nott, but then he got too swept up in the conversation happening around him to care.

"Which subject are you looking forward to the most?" Draco asked the dorm. "Personally, I reckon Potions will be the best!"

Theodore laughed. "You've only told us that about a thousand times! Charms will be the most useful, though I suppose they won't start teaching us the interesting stuff until next year at least."

"Defence Against the Dark Arts sounds fun," Harry put in.

"Finally, someone who knows what he's talking about!" Blaise agreed. "I can't wait to learn about hexes and jinxes!"

The boys chatted merrily. Soon the topic steered back to families and Harry found he couldn't say anything of use. Instead, he just listened.

"I feel sorry for Millicent and Tracey," Draco said absentmindedly. "They don't know anyone!"

"Why is that?" Harry asked. His assumption from earlier was right.

Theo and Blaise cleared their throats awkwardly. "Potter, you need to know something about the wizarding world," Nott began.

"Shut up!" Draco glared at the boy, who held his hands up in mock-surrender.

"Look, Malfoy, someone's got to tell him, and it's obvious you're not," he reasoned.

"Fine," Draco huffed. He sat back on his bed and folded his arms, turning his glare to the floor.

"As I was saying, there's something you need to know about the wizarding world and how it works. Specifically, families. All wizarding families, like the Malfoys, Parkinsons, Notts, Crabbes, Goyles – essentially every Slytherin in our year aside from you, Davis and Bulstrode – are what we call 'purebloods'. The Potters used to be a pureblood family, until your dad married your mum, who was a muggleborn. Muggleborns are magical children born in muggle families, by the way," he added, seeing Harry's scrunched up face.

"Anyway, since your dad didn't marry another pureblood, that makes you a halfblood. Purebloods who have children with halfbloods, muggleborns or muggles mean that their children are halfbloods. Halfbloods who have children with other halfbloods, muggleborns or muggles make their children halfblood. Basically, if it's not a person with two pureblood parents, or if they're not a muggleborn, they're halfblood," Theodore explained.

Harry turned this information around in his mind. It was quite a lot to take in.

"And what exactly are blood traitors? Draco said something about –"

"He did, did he?" Theo shot Draco a glare.

"I didn't mean – look, I was being stupid," the boy in question rushed to explain. "When Harry and I first met, I mistook him for a Weasley and said some unpleasant things, and-"

"Draco, Theo, don't worry about it. Draco might have been a right prat at first, but he apologised," Harry cut in. Draco reached over the divide between their two beds to shove Harry playfully.

"To answer your question, Potter, 'blood traitor' is a term used by some pureblood families to describe other pureblood families that associate with muggles, or don't follow the traditional pureblood ways," Blaise explained quietly.

From the way everyone was looking at the floor, Harry wondered if that meant their families believed in that kind of thing. It seemed rather stupid to Harry – family wasn't something you could change, so why care about it?

It was a while until conversation picked up again. Theo, Blaise and Draco avoided the subject of families. Harry was all too happy to do the same.

Soon, the boys fell asleep one by one, until it was only Harry who was left awake, mulling over everything that had happened in his mind.

In one day he had panicked over being left at a train station in London, met the Weasleys, ran at a wall with his trolley, found himself on Platform 9 and Three-Quarters, got onto the Hogwarts Express, became friends with Ron, met Hermione, Neville, Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle, sailed across a lake, entered a castle, conversed with a mind-reading hat, been sorted into Slytherin, been drifted through twice, met the rest of the Slytherins in his year, went into an actual dungeon, came across yet another sliding wall, learnt more about the wizarding world and now here he was, with his bed against a solid glass wall that they had to trust wouldn't break and flood them with water from the lake outside.

It was a lot to wrap his head around, to say the least. Harry rolled over and stared at the long-diminished fireplace. Three months ago, if you had told Harry Potter that his life was extraordinary, he would have laughed himself into hysterics.

Harry rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, willing for sleep to come. When it finally did, it was to the thought of the promised magical lessons he'd have the next day.