Harry burst upright. He was shaking as he took in his surroundings, half expecting to see the inside of a cupboard. It took him a while to realise that, no, this wasn't the Dursleys'. This was Hogwarts.

Right, Harry thought tiredly. He was drenched in sweat and it was a few seconds until he could recall why. He buried his head in his hands when he remembered the same bright green light he'd been dreaming of for years. This nightmare, however, seemed a lot more real. Maybe it was because he had woken up before everyone else so it was quiet and dark (which always emphasised the worst parts of his nightmares), or because he now knew that the green light and screaming had actually happened.

His dream also contained Quirrell's turban and something whispering to him. This may not seem scary at all, but Harry couldn't move and was forced to watch helplessly as the turban wrapped itself around his head and neck, suffocating him, while Snape looked on, doing nothing but smiling cruelly.

He tried to tell himself it was just a nightmare, and it wasn't like he hadn't had them before, but he couldn't shake it off. He couldn't go back to sleep, not when his heart was hammering and his breathing was still so frantic.

Since no one else was awake, and was unlikely to be soon, Harry decided to get something done. He grabbed his glasses off his bedside table, then reached into his trunk. He felt around for a few moments before pulling out the first book he came in contact with, which happened to be Magical Drafts and Potions. Sighing, he figured he may as well try and learn something. Draco had also told him that their head of house was the Potions Master, and he didn't want to make a fool out of himself.

Wrapping the thick green blankets further around himself, Harry began reading. Really, the dungeon was too cold for mornings.

–

Draco was the first to wake. Harry watched, his potions textbook resting in his lap as the blond stretched and blinked blearily at his surroundings.

A moment later, he noticed Harry.

"Good morning," the boy chirper.

"Mornin'," Draco mumbled in reply. He yawned. "Why are you awake? You look like you've been up for a while."

"I guess I'm an early riser." It wasn't a lie, mostly. Harry had gotten into the habit of waking up just before his aunt's persistent knocking, which was pretty early itself. Over the years, he had learnt that the earlier he got up, the easier it was to shake the sleep from his system when the Dursleys ordered him around.

"Yeah, right." Draco's eyes narrowed.

"You're more coherent than most people who have just woken up," Harry noted.

"Don't avoid the question." Draco's tone indicated that he wasn't going to let this go.

Harry sighed. "Couldn't sleep." It was technically true. Besides, he didn't want to relive his nightmares. He barely remembered it anymore anyway, so it honestly wasn't worth diving into.

Draco cast an inquisitorial look over to where Harry was sitting on his bed. His eyes raked over the small boy, taking in the bags under Harry's eyes. Draco also couldn't help but notice the way his hair had stuck up in odd places. Bed hair, he realised with an amused grin.

In the end, he decided not to comment.

"We should wake the others up," Harry suggested eventually.

Draco thought this over. "Or," he began, a grin spreading over his face, "we could not wake them up, have showers first so they don't steal the hot water, and teach them a lesson about not relying on others to get them up in the mornings."

"But won't they be mad at us?" Harry protested half-heartedly. His mind was too preoccupied with the idea of a hot shower.

"Probably. However, it's not like we can be held responsible if they are late. Really, Hogwarts should invest in some sort of alarm."

It didn't take much convincing after that for Harry to agree. Whatever guilt he had was gone once he stepped into the warm spray of the shower.

–

"Malfoy, what the hell?" Theodore's voice called behind Draco and Harry. The duo were just on their way to breakfast when a panting and very angry Nott and Zabini stopped them.

Draco sighed and turned around, shooting a grin at Harry. "What did I do?" He asked innocently.

"Cut the act, Draco," Blaise drawled. "Why didn't you wake us up?"

"I told you they'd be mad," Harry muttered to Draco.

"Harry, they're only mad at me," the blond said. Harry wasn't very reassured, but he didn't get a chance to voice this as Draco continued. "Zabini, Nott, consider this payback for the time you changed my hair colour that one summer at my house. I had to wait until my father got home while you two laughed yourselves silly. When you think about it, this is more than fair." At least Harry now knew how Draco learnt the colour spell he had performed on Scabbers.

"We were like, eight, Malfoy!" Theo retorted, the same time as Blaise rolled his eyes and muttered, "Of course he cares more about his precious hair than his friends."

Draco only laughed, before spinning on his heel and grabbing Harry's arm. "Let's go before their small brains figure out a way to get me back for it."

With that, the two boys raced down Hogwarts' stretching hallways, Harry trusting Draco to get them to the Great Hall despite this being their first morning.

–

They did get there in the end. Harry wasn't sure how Draco had done it, as the only chance he would've had to memorise the route was when they were walking to the Slytherin common room last night – and the route seemed different from what Harry remembered. Then again, he was too busy trying to absorb every detail of his new home for the next year, and he had assumed that everyone else was doing the same. Apparently not.

The Slytherin duo entered the Great Hall. With only half the students there, Harry didn't feel quite so scrutinised as he did last night, but as Draco led them over to the Slytherin table, he was all too aware of the not so secret whispering occurring all around him.

"I mean, I still can't believe he's in Slytherin, of all houses. Maybe it was a mistake."

"Do you think he's an imposter? Harry Potter wouldn't be a Slytherin."

"If he brushed his hair out of his face, we might be able to see his scar!"

Hearing all this, he kept his head down low and blindly followed Draco's pull. Once they were on the left side of the room, Harry didn't hear as much of the school's overt whispering, but even a few of the Slytherins had things to say. It was clear that not everyone was happy to have The Boy Who Lived in their house.

As Draco motioned for Harry to sit next to him, he realised that they were seated at the end of the table, as far away from the older Slytherins as possible.

"I thought taking you the way I did this morning would allow us to avoid any nosy students, but obviously there was no avoiding it here," Draco offered as explanation when Harry looked over curiously. "However, we can at least distance ourselves from it. Anyway, Potter, I wouldn't bother thinking about those idiots when you have a feast right in front of you! For someone so skinny, you need it."

Harry knew that Draco was only trying to take his mind off things, so even though he didn't really feel like it, he got a decent serving of eggs and bacon on his plate and dug in. Draco for some reason waited until Harry had served himself before grabbing his own food.

The thought was quickly dismissed from Harry's mind when Blaise, Theo and the rest of the Slytherin first-years joined them. Soon, their end of the table was one of the loudest groups in the whole hall as the lot joked around with each other.

Harry's gaze was drawn by a group of three boys with bright red hair entering the Great Hall. Harry got up from his seat and started the walk over, ignoring the stares from the Slytherins he passed.

"Morning, Ron!" Harry greeted.

"Morning, Harry," Ron replied. His brothers – Fred and George, but not Percy, Harry saw – stood a little off to the side.

"Ron, you didn't tell us you were friends with Harry Potter!" One of them exclaimed.

"Yeah, as your favourite brothers, you're supposed to tell us these things!" the other chimed in. Ron looked a tad sheepish.

Harry was just glad that the three Weasleys in front of him, at least, didn't seem to mind his Slytherin status. Plus, what he had heard about the twins made them out to be fun people to hang around.

"Do you know if we have any lessons together?" Harry asked hopefully.

Ron nodded. "Yeah, we have potions together Friday mornings! And flying on Thursday afternoons, starting next week. I can't wait to fly again!"

"We get to fly?!" Harry had never flown before, not including the time Hagrid had taken him on his flying motorbike as he was too young to remember.

"Of course, Potter." Draco drawled as he approached. "All first-years get lessons. Not that many of the Slytherins will need them, but I suppose you're an exception."

"Oh." The lessons didn't sound so appealing anymore. He didn't want to be the only one who couldn't fly. What if he fell off his broom while everyone else was zooming around?

"Don't listen to Malfoy, Harry. Fred could barely get off the ground our first time!" a twin – George – reassured, while his counterpart shot a vicious warning look over to Harry's friend.

"Yeah, you don't have to worry about anything until second-year, which is when you'll be allowed to try out for your house's Quidditch team!" Fred grinned.

"What do you mean?" Harry questioned.

"It's a violent sport! Quite a lot of broken bones –"

"And concussions –"

"Possibly death, too!"

"Hypocrites," Draco muttered. "Anyway, Potter, we should head back to the Slytherin quarters. The prefects hate tardiness. I suppose that they get that from Professor Snape."

"Have you met him before?" Harry asked, forgetting all about flying.

"Yeah. He's... sort of a family friend. My father went to school with him." With that, Draco walked off, and Harry quickly apologised to Ron before running after him. After all, he didn't want to be late. Snape already made him feel uncomfortable and he didn't want to get on his bad side early on.

"Don't we have a lesson this morning?" Harry said when he caught up.

"Usually, yes. However, they have to lay out the rules at some point, which is what the Orientation is for. Better sooner than later, right?" Harry nodded. "I heard that Gryffindors don't have this talk – probably why they never win the House Cup, don't you think?"

This time, Harry didn't respond.

–

The first week was mostly spent learning the basics of magic and getting their bearings of the castle. It was a good thing that the second-year Slytherins were willing to offer them directions and advice, as most of the other houses and the ghosts either outright refused or simply ended up getting them lost.

For some reason, Harry's friends discouraged him from talking to older Slytherins. Blaise had warned him that there were quite a few of the sixth and seventh years who had a lot to say about Harry, but Pansy had elbowed him before Harry could find out more.

Friday morning found Harry awake but reluctant to get out of bed just yet. He tugged the green quilt tighter around himself as he desperately tried to savour what little warmth he had for a moment longer. Draco, however, had other plans.

"Potter, wake up!" he whisper-shouted as he ripped the blankets away from Harry's shivering body. "Get up so we can have breakfast already!"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Zabini muttered, face hid in his pillow. "What's got you so excited this morning? You're usually a princess when it comes to getting your beauty sleep."

"You're one to talk," Draco retorted before rushing off to the bathroom.

Harry took a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes. Tuesday night he had finally caught up on all the sleep he had missed, what with his nightmare the first day at Hogwarts and a midnight astronomy class on Monday, and he realised that he should take full advantage of not having to wake up at the crack of dawn anymore. Needless to say, he could understand the other Slytherin boys' frustration at being woken up so suddenly by Draco.

"It's because it's our first Potions lesson," Theodore Nott yawned. He sat up in bed and stretched his arms above his head. To his right, Crabbe and Goyle had just woken up too. Not wanting to have to use the bathroom after them, Harry quickly gathered up his uniform as his stomach fluttered at the thought of Potions.

From what Draco had told him, it was going to be the best subject yet. Then again, he had thought that about Defence Against the Dark Arts and, well, Professor Quirrell was perhaps not the best teacher for that job. Plus, Harry kept getting headaches in that classroom.

–

At breakfast, the Slytherins were all waiting with baited breath for when they could rush off to Potions. Pansy and Draco were talking each others' ears off as they enthused about Potions, and Daphne and Blaise were discussing their favourite skin potions, whatever that was supposed to mean. Even Crabbe and Goyle, who weren't the most studious by far, were ploughing through this morning's porridge. Then again, Harry thought, that wasn't much different than normal.

With most people around him engaged in conversation, excluding Millicent (who scared him, if he was honest) and Tracy (who was content to keep to herself), Harry scanned the faraway Gryffindor table for the Weasley clan.

Percy was busy talking to the other Gryffindor prefect, and Fred and George were nowhere to be found. Harry had a feeling that later in the day the school would know exactly what they had gotten up to.

The Gryffindor first-years weren't bundled up at the end like the Slytherin first-years were, so it took Harry a while to spot them. When he did, he noticed that they were all joking around with older years and he thought back to what Blaise was saying. Now that he thought about it, it seemed every Slytherin but his year were more than happy to converse with one another.

Was that his fault?

He didn't get the chance to dwell on it much longer, because Ron had looked his way. They smiled at each other in excitement as they hadn't seen each other much that week.

Harry's gaze was torn away as the morning post arrived. Hundreds of owls burst into the Great Hall and Harry stared down at his porridge. All around him, letters and the occasional gift were dropped in front of his friends, all from their family or friends from outside of Hogwarts. Harry hadn't gotten any mail all week, not that he minded too much. If he could go the whole year without hearing from the Dursleys, then sign him up.

Hedwig flew up to him and Harry grabbed a piece of toast for her, assuming she was there for food like she usually was. The owl nipped his ear to get his attention before presenting her claw before dropping a scrolled piece of parchment on Harry's lap.

He glanced around, wondering if it was someone else's. Draco saw this and nudged him.

"Well, are you going to read it?" he asked, looking as if he was about to snatch it out of Harry's hands if he didn't right this second.

Harry unrolled the letter and scanned it. "It's Hagrid," he answered Draco's impatient huff. "He wants to talk about my week this afternoon. You should come too!"

Draco hesitated. "He won't mind, will he?"

"Of course not," Harry replied, wondering why Draco was so unsure. "Just come, trust me!"

Draco made a noncommittal hum. "Come on, Potter, we'll be late for Potions at this rate."

–

In the end, it didn't matter how early he was to Snape's lesson. The moment he set foot in one of the colder parts of the dungeons that had been fashioned into a classroom, Snape singled Harry out in front of the combined class of Gryffindors and Slytherins.

The lesson had started fine enough – the class filed in and Harry claimed a seat next to Ron as their professor fetched some ingredients, Draco to the right of him. Harry and Ron took the opportunity to catch up on their week and complain about History of Magic class, while Draco organised his materials and sat up ramrod straight in his chair, determined to make a good impression. It was either that, or he wanted to look busy in case Crabbe and Goyle attempted conversation with him.

The redheads were so engaged in their conversation that they didn't notice when Professor Snape returned, bringing the rest of the room to an uneasy silence. It was only when Draco elbowed Harry – quite hard – that they stopped to see Snape standing in front of their desks, scowling as he stared them down.

They snapped their mouths shut.

"Now that certain students have decided to show some respect," Snape drawled, each word he spoke having a bite to it, "let's begin our lesson. I'm sure Mr. Potter wouldn't mind another chance to open his mouth, so why don't we start with him explaining what I'd get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry's heart raced as he thought back to what he had read so far in his textbook. He recognised the name wormwood at least, but he couldn't remember its properties, let alone what he'd get when adding asphodel to it!

"I don't know, sir," Harry admitted, quiet voice magnified in the still silence of the room. The only person who dared to move was Hermione, who had her hand straight in the air.

Snape's scowl turned into a mocking sneer. "Clearly fame isn't everything. Let's try again, Potter. Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

Harry was all too aware of Hermione's hand shooting once more in the air, and even Draco straightened up in recognition. He had definitely read about this one.

"It's a stone, sir, found in a..." Harry paused. "It's found in a goat's stomach, I think."

"I see you at least bothered to skim the first chapter," Snape growled. "Surely you know the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane, then?"

Harry was stumped. He knew what one of them looked like, but for the life of him he couldn't remember which. Hermione seemed to know though, but Draco was frowning.

"I'm not sure." Harry murmured. He stared at the grains on his desk, letting his red hair flop down in front of his eyes.

"Let's see you take a guess, Potter," Snape goaded.

Harry clenched his fist and he met Snape's steely gaze. "All I know is that one of them is a poisonous purple flower, not the difference, but I think Hermione does. Why don't you try her?"

Ron's hand flew to his mouth in a vain attempt to stifle his laugh, whereas Pansy, Blaise and a few of the other Gryffindors sniggered openly. Even Draco had a hint of a smile that Harry saw, despite the fact the blond had turned his head away from Harry.

Snape's eyes flashed with fury. Harry was worried he was about to hex him or poison him or worse, but instead he told Hermione to sit down. "For your information, Potter," his last name was spat with such venom Harry flinched, "asphodel and wormwood make a powerful sleeping potion called the Draught of Living Death. You got lucky with bezoar, but as for monkshood and wolfsbane, they're the same plant."

"That's hardly fair!" Harry cried out, but was soon silenced once again by a sharp look from Snape.

"I expect everyone to copy that down. And for such blatant disrespect, a point will be taken from Gryffindor for openly encouraging misconduct."

Harry was ready to protest yet again, as it wasn't right for Gryffindors to get punished for laughing when Harry's house didn't lose a single point, but Draco laid his hand on Harry's arm and shook his head minutely. Harry looked to Ron for support, but even he seemed resigned to Snape's punishment, so he slumped back in his seat and finished off his notes.

He didn't understand why Snape despised him so much – or why Draco was excited for this lesson, for that matter. At least he and Ron got to talk some more as they had paired off to work on a potion.

At first he felt a tad guilty about not going with Draco, but when he stole glances at Draco and Blaise's potion, he saw they both looked like they knew exactly what they were doing.

He and Ron were as clueless as each other, which was probably why they drew most of Snape's heat. In the end, they found they didn't mind too much as it gave them something to talk about as they left the classroom an hour later.