Chapitre 92: A Bitter Welcome
"Slytherin!"
He clapped the new snake in, just as he had for every other child thus far.
"Granger, Hermione"
Whispers and murmurs filled the hall.
A girl with wavy brown hair walked towards the stool.
He furrowed his eyebrows. The muggleborn looked almost as exhausted as the heirs…
Professor McGonagall lowered her parchment. "Quiet, please!"
… And the robes…
The noise lessened.
The girl reached the stool.
… And the way she stood, even when clearly ready to fall asleep…"
Minerva's eyes fell on the girl. He heard the old witch choke. "Miss Granger?"
The girl sat down. "Yes, Professor?"
Minerva glanced around the hall. "Would you care to explain why you are wearing a crest before you are sorted?"
His eyes widened.
"I am a -she stifled a yawn- a… vassal of my lord. Lord Slytherin. That is why I wear his crest."
He tensed.
The whispers and murmurs started again.
How dare that man. His nostrils flared. To shackle a poor muggle family to his will… Slytherin was just like him back in his youth, and he'd seen where that lead. He clenched his jaw. But… at least the man had now showed his true colours - preying on the weak and vulnerable. Truly Dark.
Minerva stood, words forming but not emerging.
The hat, clutched in Minerva's unmoving grip, twisted towards the poor girl and, without moving an inch toward the girl's head, called out, "Slytherin!"
The Slytherin table erupted in a mix of enthusiasm and polite caution.
The girl stood and walked to the Slytherin table without so much as a backwards glance.
He stared at the girl's back, half angry, half sad. As soon as the snake pit learned her heritage, she'd regret ever hearing the name Slytherin.
Minerva seemed to have gotten over her shock.
"Greengrass, Daphne."
Oh. Of course. The Greengrass Heiress and Slytherin's betrothed. Is that why he'd done it? To serve the young Heiress? Is that what muggleborns were to the young lord? Second class citizens, fit only to serve the noble houses?
"Slytherin!"
Greengrass made to sweep to her new table, but in her fatigue it came out more as a shuffle.
He sighed. He'd call the Granger girl into his office tomorrow morning and explain what Slytherin had done. Then they'd meet together with her parents and he'd advise them on how to break the contract, assuming it was even legitimate. With any luck they'd be free by the end of the week and he could offer to have the girl resorted.
The sorting continued to shuffle and stumble forward, until eventually…
"Potter, Harry"
Whispers again filled the hall.
And that was another reason to get the muggleborn out of Slytherin.
He shot off a mind probe as the true boy-who-lived strode to the hat. Worry. Fear. Excitement. Disappointment in his brother on the train. Mixed feelings towards a cute girl who'd helped him. Confusion about why everyone was interested in him. It was an extremely unorganised mind. Unorganised, but, on the other hand, also quite healthy. He withdrew and suppressed a sad frown.
And the boy looked healthy too. Sending him to be raised by muggles had been a risky move. Tom had been raised by muggles. He'd been almost certain Petunia wasn't going to honour her sister's request. Luckily, it seemed the Potter boy had been spared Tom's hate and fear filled childhood.
Minerva placed the hat on the boy's head.
Silence.
…
…
…
"Slytherin!"
Gasps filled the great hall.
He resisted the urge to nod. This was the outcome he'd have expected if his guess all those years ago had been accurate. Things were slotting into place better than he'd hoped. An isolated, muggle-raised, well-adjusted Harry Potter was the best of both worlds. He'd just have to make sure Severus kept a careful eye on things.
"Potter, John."
This time, the whispers were too loud for Minerva to ignore. "Quiet! If I have to tell you again I'll start giving out detentions!"
Amazingly, the young potter heir didn't seem to be tired at all. Down, yes. A bit sad, yes, but not tired.
John Potter walked to the stool and had the hat placed over his head.
Silence.
Then, "Gryffindor!"
The table on the far left erupted.
John Potter stood up, gave a small, sad little bow, glanced towards the Slytherin table, and walked over to the clapping and cheering throng of Gryffindors.
.....
Hermione huffed. "Honestly, does he have any humility?"
Daphne shrugged and stifled a yawn.
Tracey stared from her to Daphne through half-lidded eyes. Malfoy, Nott, Parkinson, Bulstrode, Crabbe, Goyle, and Harry sat a little further up the table. They looked equally shattered. Well, all except Harry of course, she mentally added.
Minutes dragged by until, eventually…
"Zabini, Blaise."
…
"Slytherin!"
The girls all clapped their dark skinned comrade.
"Finally," Daphne muttered as Blaise sat down next to her.
She acknowledged his arrival with a nod.
The evil headmaster stood up. "Now, I do have a few words for you all, but now is the time to eat, drink, and be merry. Dig in."
The tables in front of them instantly filled with food.
She collected an assortment of potatoes, peas, carrots, onions, and roast beef onto her plate and began processing it.
Around her the sounds of the older years's laughing and joking flowed into the vacuum that was the Slytherin first years.
She speared a slice of beef on her fork and looked across the table just as a matronly witch wearing white robes bustled up to Daphne.
"Miss Greengrass."
Daphne looked around, mouth still full.
"I'm Madam Pomfrey, the school's healer. I'm going to perform a check for magical exhaustion. Okay?"
Daphne swallowed her bite and nodded.
Despite her own tiredness, she couldn't help pause with the beef halfway to her mouth. New magic.
Madam Pomfrey pointed her wand at Daphne and muttered an incantation that she couldn't quite catch. The healer frowned when the tip of her wand lit up dark pink. "You've been using far too much magic today, just like all the rest of your peers, I suspect. Make sure you get a good nights sleep and come see me if you're still tired by lunchtime tomorrow."
Daphne nodded again, turned, and resumed her mechanical eating.
She continued to watch the healer as she moved up the table, stopping at every tired looking student. So, that was the diagnostic charm to test for magical exhaustion was it?
She frowned. Was it a charm though? It didn't affect the properties of the target, after-all. But the book she'd bought said it was a charm. She took a bite of potato. Something to ask the charms professor about, maybe.
She continued to eat and surreptitiously snuck a small piece of beef into the pocket of her robes, in which a tiny snake under Harry's command writhed in appreciation. Eventually the healer made her way around the table to where she sat.
"Miss Granger, is it?"
She turned. "Yes, Healer Pomfrey."
"Just Madam Pomfrey while in school, Miss Granger."
She hesitated. "As you wish, Madam Pomfrey."
Madam Pomfrey nodded and a quick wand brandish produced a light pink light. "Well, Miss Granger, you've definitely been working yourself hard, but I'm glad you seem to be able to show restraint, your toxin levels are far lower than most of your peers."
She felt her cheeks redden and nodded. "Can I ask a question, Madam Pomfrey?"
"Of course, Dear."
"Is that a charm or something else? Because-"
Just then, a loud crash came from the other side of the hall. Madam Pomfrey whirled around. "Oh, please excuse me." and with that she hustled towards the source, an audible, "Oh, I feared that," issuing from her lips.
She pouted and craned her neck to spy a small party of Gryffindors, including John Potter, staring at the collapsed form of the Longbottom Heir. She turned back again to face her new comrades. "I guess it was a bit too much for some of us."
Daphne, Tracey, and Blaise all grunted in unison.
The feast continued.
....
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État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
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