Chapter 11: chapter 11
As I took my seat at the Slytherin table, a part of me couldn't shake the lingering thought that being sorted into this house was going to be a hassle. Sure, Slytherin was prestigious, and they valued ambition and cunning, but the constant rivalry with Gryffindor? That was bound to get old fast.
I had hoped for Ravenclaw. It seemed like a better fit—somewhere I could focus on knowledge and magic without all the house politics. But deep down, I knew this was coming. I couldn't ignore the connection to my distant relative, Salazar Slytherin. The Sorting Hat must have sensed it too, making my placement feel almost inevitable.
Still, I could already feel the weight of the choice, knowing full well that my time here might get complicated, especially with the Gryffindors eyeing me suspiciously. I glanced over at Harry and Hermione again, their looks of concern unmistakable. No doubt they were already trying to reconcile who I was with where I'd been placed.
"I wanted Ravenclaw, you know," I muttered quietly to the Slytherin student next to me, who raised an eyebrow in surprise. "But, well… family ties."
The student smirked knowingly. "The founder's blood, huh? That'll get you far in this house. Not many know of your relation, though—aside from pureblood families who did their research. Most thought your line was extinct, so it was slightly forgotten by the younger generation after 11 years, no offense.
The student's smirk widened slightly, his eyes flicking over me with newfound interest. Clearly, he saw my connection to Salazar Slytherin as a valuable asset, though he tried to keep his tone casual. I returned his gaze, my own expression carefully neutral.
"None taken," I replied, leaning back in my seat. "It's better that way, really. Let them think what they want."
The older student nodded, seemingly impressed by my lack of concern. "You'll fit right in here," he said, as if the final word had been spoken. "Use what you have when it suits you—discretion's a virtue in Slytherin."
I allowed myself a small grin. "I plan to."
The conversation flowed around us as the feast continued, and I turned my attention back to the food in front of me, keeping my ears open for anything that might be useful. It wasn't long before the topic shifted to Hogwarts itself. The older students spoke with familiarity about their favorite parts of the school, the secret passages they'd discovered, and the places where one could find some solitude if needed. There were rumors about the Forbidden Forest, the dangers it held, and even whispers about what lay beneath the school—myths of hidden chambers and tunnels from the days of the Founders.
Naturally, I didn't expect anyone here to know about the Chamber of Secrets—not beyond the legends, at least. It was one of the school's best-kept mysteries, something even Voldemort had exploited during his time. That secret still lay dormant, as far as I knew, but in Slytherin, one could never be sure what rumors held truth.
As I listened, my thoughts wandered to the castle itself. Hogwarts was massive, filled with endless corridors, hidden staircases, and rooms that seemed to appear or disappear as needed—like the Room of Requirement, which I knew about from my previous life. No doubt I'd spend much of my first year learning the lay of the land, figuring out which secrets were worth chasing and which ones were best left alone.
Eventually, the feast began to wind down. The tables were still laden with food, but many students had pushed their plates away, too full to eat another bite. I glanced over at the Gryffindor table, where Harry and Hermione were deep in conversation. I caught Harry's eye for a moment, and he gave me a small, cautious nod. I returned it, raising an eyebrow slightly as if to say, I'll be fine.
Professor Dumbledore stood then, and the hall fell silent as he made his customary end-of-feast announcements. His blue eyes twinkled as he welcomed us all to a new year at Hogwarts, speaking with his usual blend of wisdom and warmth. He reminded us all of the rules—no entering the Forbidden Forest, no magic in the corridors between classes, and of course, the forbidden third-floor corridor, which he spoke about with that mischievous gleam in his eye.
The Stone was obviously placed there, but it seems Dumbledore is purposely intriguing the students to make them want to poke around. Either that, or he hopes Voldemort is listening in on the conversation so he'll rush there and not investigate anywhere else in an attempt to keep students as safe as possible. Though I could be completely wrong and Dumbledore is just a psychopath, the nights young after all.
When Dumbledore finished his speech, the prefects from each house stood, ready to lead us to our respective common rooms. As we rose from the Slytherin table, I found myself surrounded by a group of older students, all of them talking excitedly about the year ahead.
A sixth-year prefect named Gemma Farley approached me with a cool, appraising look. "Come on, Sayre," she said, motioning for me to follow her. "I'll show you the way to the common room."
I fell in line behind her, the other first-year Slytherins clustering around as we were led down into the dungeons. The journey was quick, but with each step deeper into the school's underbelly, I felt the atmosphere shift. The temperature dropped slightly, and the torches cast longer, more dramatic shadows along the cold stone walls. The dungeons were eerie, but not in an unpleasant way—it felt secure, tucked away beneath the castle's surface. Hidden.
The entrance to the Slytherin common room was concealed behind a stretch of bare stone wall, marked only by a faint etching of a serpent. Gemma stepped forward and spoke the password—"Pureblood." The wall slid open silently, revealing the entrance to our common room.
I stepped inside, taking it all in. The Slytherin common room was just as I had expected: grand, but dark. Green lamps cast an emerald glow over the room, reflecting off the polished stone floor. The windows, which looked out into the depths of the Black Lake, added an otherworldly effect, giving the room a calm, underwater quality. Plush armchairs and leather couches were arranged in clusters, and tapestries depicting scenes of Slytherin history hung on the walls.
"This is home, and we are family for the time you're in this castle. Have each other's backs and cause as little trouble as possible. But if you do find yourself in a bind, go to Professor Snape—he'll know what to do," Gemma said, to the group of first-years. "The dormitories are down those corridors—boys to the left, girls to the right. Settle in, and be ready for classes tomorrow."
With that, she left us to explore. I made my way toward the boys' dormitory, eager to see where I'd be staying. My trunk had already been placed at the foot of my bed, along with a rather annoyed looking Helga, I really should have let her to fly here. The dormitory was as lavish as the common room—four-poster beds with green and silver hangings, dark wood furniture, and stone walls that seemed to absorb any excess noise.
I sat on the edge of my bed and peeked over at Helga cautiously. "Hey, you know I didn't mean to leave you in there all day, right? I was just excited, is all." My words didn't seem to help, though, as she gave an annoyed hoot and fluttered her wings.
"Okay, okay, I'll let you out. I probably won't need you tomorrow, so have fun exploring the wilderness around Hogwarts." As I opened her cage, she immediately fluttered over, pecking me on the head a few times before settling on my shoulder, clearly waiting for her escort out.
With a sigh, I made my way back upstairs, out of the Slytherin common room. Apparently, she didn't need me after that, as she jumped off my shoulder and flew off.
'I should really get her some owl treats for the trouble,' I thought to myself as I made my way back to my room.
I thought again about the rivalry with Gryffindor, and how that might complicate things. Harry and Hermione had looked concerned, but I knew they'd come around once they realized I wasn't the stereotypical Slytherin. That, or we'd end up clashing more than I expected. Either way, it didn't matter right now. I had other things to focus on—like how to make the most of my time here.
That night, as I lay in bed, I considered the many mysteries of Hogwarts. The Chamber of Secrets, the third-floor corridor, the hidden rooms and passageways that likely held more than a few secrets of their own. There was so much to explore, so much to learn.
The next morning dawned early, and as the Slytherin common room stirred to life, I found myself eager to start the day. My schedule had been placed at the foot of my bed along with my robes and books, and I scanned it quickly over breakfast. First up: Transfiguration with the Gryffindors.
As I approached the classroom, I noticed that it was still mostly empty. Hermione, predictably, was already seated at the front, her quill and parchment ready for notes. She glanced toward the door as I entered, her brow furrowed in mild concern.
"Morning," I greeted her with a casual nod, making my way to a seat near the middle of the room. Hermione gave me a distracted nod, but it was clear her thoughts were elsewhere. I could easily guess why—Harry and Ron were nowhere to be seen, and knowing Hermione, their tardiness was already bothering her.
She glanced at the door again, tapping her quill against the parchment impatiently. "I wonder where they are," she murmured, her tone almost exasperated.
I didn't bother responding, focusing instead on the room. It wasn't my problem if Harry and Ron couldn't keep track of time. Besides, something else had caught my attention—on Professor McGonagall's desk, there sat a cat with distinct square markings around its eyes.
I smirked, recognizing the Animagus form of Professor McGonagall almost immediately. But I decided to play along. With a casual air, I got up from my seat and approached the desk, making sure to wear an expression of feigned innocence. Hermione raised an eyebrow, clearly curious about what I was doing.
As I reached the cat, I extended my hand, as though I were about to pet it. "Aren't you just a cute little thing?" I said with a grin, knowing full well that the cat was McGonagall in disguise.
The cat's green eyes narrowed at me, but I kept my hand outstretched, determined to see just how far I could push this.
"You really shouldn't—" Hermione began, but before she could finish, the cat suddenly leapt off the desk and transformed midair, landing gracefully as none other than Professor McGonagall herself.
I straightened up, barely holding back my amusement as McGonagall fixed me with a sharp, unimpressed glare.
"Mr. Sayre," she said in her usual stern tone, her eyes narrowing further, "I am not a pet."
Feigning surprise, I raised my hands in mock surrender. "My apologies, Professor. I thought you were just a very well-behaved cat."
Hermione shot me a look of shock and one of amazement at the professors sudden transformation, but McGonagall wasn't nearly as entertained. She adjusted her glasses with a quick, precise motion and turned her attention to the blackboard.
"Take your seat, Mr. Sayre," she instructed crisply, and I did as I was told, the smirk still lingering on my face.
As I settled back into my seat next to Hermione much to the Slytherin displeasure even going as far as hear Draco whisper 'Blood Traitor' under his breath, the door creaked open, and in walked Harry and Ron, both of them red-faced and slightly out of breath.
"Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley," McGonagall's voice was cold and clipped. "You are late."
"Sorry, Professor," Harry mumbled, clearly avoiding eye contact as they hurried to sit next to Hermione. I could see Ron glance over at me as they sat down, his expression immediately souring when he noticed my smirk.
"You're expected to arrive on time to my classes, gentlemen," McGonagall continued. "Do not let this happen again."
As McGonagall turned back to the blackboard, Ron leaned over to Harry, muttering just loud enough for me to catch. "Figures… Slytherin," he grumbled darkly. "Can't trust any of them."
I raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything at first. I had expected this kind of reaction from Ron. The Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry was deeply ingrained in the students here, and Ron seemed determined to treat me like the enemy.
Finally, I couldn't resist. "You've known me all of 30 seconds, Weasley. Impressive detective work," I said quietly, my voice laced with sarcasm.
Ron's ears immediately turned red, and his grip on his quill tightened. "Doesn't take much to figure out," he muttered, glancing away as Hermione shot him a warning look. "Slytherins are all the same."
I leaned back in my seat, rolling my eyes. "You really ought to get out more, Ron. Broaden your horizons. Not every Slytherin is obsessed with world domination."
Harry, who had been silent until now, gave me a cautious look, though I could tell he wasn't quite as hostile as Ron. "Maybe," he said slowly, "but people say Slytherin has a history."
"History's written by whoever's telling the story, Potter," I replied with a shrug. "I will say say some stories have their merit but it isn't good to blindly trust in them, not every Slytherin is out for themselves."
Before the conversation could continue, McGonagall's voice cut through the room as she began the lesson, guiding us through the process of transfiguring matchsticks into needles. I quickly shifted my focus back to the task at hand.
As we worked, I noticed McGonagall's eyes linger on me more than once. The look of disappointment from the Sorting Ceremony still hung over her, and it was clear that she had expected me to end up in Gryffindor. I wasn't surprised—McGonagall had always valued loyalty and bravery, traits she likely believed I possessed as well as my obvious teait for mischief most grinders possess.
By the end of the lesson, I had successfully transfigured my matchstick into a silver needle, something not many students managed on their first try. McGonagall gave me a curt nod and 10 points to Slytherin as she passed by, her expression still stern but tinged with something that resembled pride.
As we packed up to leave, Hermione lingered behind, giving me a curious glance. I could see that she had been watching me throughout the class, trying to figure out how I was completing the task so simply.
"You're really good at Transfiguration," she said as we exited the classroom. " I was only able to do it partially." She said slightly downtrodden
I smiled. "Thanks. I've always had a steady hand, but honestly transfiguration heavily relies on your imagination and the process you think it through like how I said on the train, I'm sure when you climb this hurdle you'll be on my level or even better."
She tilted her head, looking thoughtful. "You don't really seem to fit the image Ron is trying to put out there about Slytherin."
I chuckled softly. "Ron's got his opinions. But like I said, not every Slytherin fits the mold."
Hermione nodded, glancing over at where Harry and Ron were walking behind us getting farther back as they were getting distracted in their own little world. "I just wish Ron would see that. He's got this idea about Slytherins, and I think it's starting to rub off on Harry."
"Yeah, I noticed," I said, sighing. "But I'm not here to prove anything. They'll come around, or they won't. Either way, I've got my own goals."
Hermione gave me a small, understanding smile. "I think Harry will come around eventually. He's more open-minded than Ron gives him credit for."
We walked together in silence for a bit before Hermione broke it with her usual academic enthusiasm. "Have you read much about Hogwarts' history?"
I chuckled. "You could say that. Hogwarts has more secrets than most people realize."
Her face brightened. "Oh, absolutely! Like the Chamber of Secrets, truly fascinating"
"I have," I replied with a grin. "Though I doubt we'll be running into any monsters of slytherin anytime soon."
She laughed softly, pleased that I was keeping up with her. "Still, it's fascinating to think about."
As we arrived at Hermione's next class, I noticed Harry and Ron catching up behind us. Ron shot me another glare, but I ignored him. I wasn't about to let his attitude affect my day.
Saying my farwell I split off to make my way to me next class.
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