Summary: As a first year, Harry is sorted into Slytherin instead of Gryffindor, and no one is more surprised than his new Head of House.
---
Previously:
Harry's career at Hogwarts was off to a really crummy start. Not only did he have this stupid nightmare and the sore scar to deal with, but now he had another detention, on just the second day, too! When was he going to have time for homework? He'd already fallen behind in reading for his History of Magic class. Aside from all that, he'd have to do something about his pajamas before tonight. His owl order would take two to three days, according to the information about the Gladrags shop in Hogsmeade, and then he'd have the right kinds of clothes. But he really hadn't thought anyone would see his tatty old shirt he used for bed. Just his luck. Probably Snape was hovering in the common room all night, just to catch him out.
In the meantime, he needed to shower and dress before any of the other boys caught him out. But if Snape was really keeping such close tabs on him, to make sure he didn't violate the schedule, how was he going to do it? Curling into his usual position, knees drawn to his chest, he forced the pain of his scar into the background. He'd gotten really good at making pain all but vanish; it was the only way he could get up, some mornings.
Once he'd pushed the ache away enough to be able to think, he realized it was still early, and he had time to do his reading for class. Creeping carefully to the end of his bed, he glanced at his dorm mates' curtains, to make sure they were all still sleeping. His book bag was on top of his trunk, and he eased out his History of Magic text, as well as the one for Transfiguration. Might as well start on the essay for that class if he had the chance. After closing his own bed curtains, he settled back on his pillows and started to read.
Not until he heard the other boys moving around in the room did he look up from his books again, or even try and figure out how he was going to shower without them all finding out about him. But now he had no choice. Swallowing hard, he closed his Transfiguration text and eased apart his curtains. Teddy had the bed right next to his, and he was bent over his trunk, gathering supplies for the shower.
Now or never, Harry thought, and almost decided on
'Potter,' Teddy hissed. '
Dread curled in his stomach like moldy sausage. He considered making a break for it, but turned around instead. Teddy was standing not a pace away, his head cocked to the side slightly.
'Yeah?' Harry said.
'What're you doing?' He kept his voice low, as there were still two beds with drawn curtains. The schedule gave each student a half hour in their respective bathrooms, but some -- like Crabbe and Goyle, according to Draco -- put off their use of it till the very last second, if possible.
'Going to the showers,' Harry answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.
Teddy rolled his eyes. 'Yeah, but why are you wearing that?'
'Er . . . it'll save me time. If I dress all the way in there. I, er, still have work to finish for McGonagall.'
'Because of your detention? He kept you until almost curfew last night.'
Harry was surprised that Teddy had noticed. 'Yeah. I'm behind already.'
Teddy wrinkled his nose a little, then shook his head. 'Well, come on, then. I have to finish the reading for Binns, too.'
They headed to the showers, and though Harry tried to be discreet, he could feel Teddy's gaze seeking him out as he drew the shower curtain closed before taking off the robe and slinging it over the top of the stall. Once more, he took the minimum amount of time possible to wash, and then dressed so quickly he realized only when dragging on his uniform trousers against the friction of water, that he'd neglected to towel off his legs. No matter, he'd done it, with no one the wiser.
Barely in time, too, as Draco entered the shower room along with Zabini, just as he was lacing up his trainers. Zabini glowered at him, and Harry pretended not to see, but gathered up the rest of his things, including the old t- shirt which he'd rolled up into a tight ball, and ducked past them.
The common room was quiet, still, though a couple tables had small groups of students at them, going over homework. Maybe Harry -- and Teddy -- weren't the only ones already lagging behind. Harry was
Teddy joined him a quarter hour later, giving him another odd look, but he didn't say anything except to double check what chapters they were to read for Binns' class. They worked together in silence until 7:20, when Marcus Flint -- Firsties were required to call him 'Prefect Flint' -- called the room to order and started lining them up to go to breakfast. Since first years were in front, Harry hurried to put his books away and made his way over toward the door.
Draco was first in line, with Pansy Parkinson just behind him, and then Harry. He hadn't had much chance to speak to any of the first year girls, and wouldn't know what to say to them, even if he had, so he avoided her eyes when she turned to peer at him, and barely managed to not offer to show her his lightning bolt scar. It was why most people looked at him like that, after all. He'd had twelve separate requests yesterday alone, never mind the ones on the Hogwarts Express. He hated it, really. It was far harder to hide when everyone stared.
After a moment, Parkinson sniffed disdainfully and faced front again, and Harry let out a breath he'd been holding.
'All right, you lot. Get a move on,' said Prefect Flint and they started for the Great Hall. Just on the other side of the portrait, though, Flint put a hand on Harry's chest, making him flinch back before he could stop himself. Flint gave him a mocking smile and leaned in to whisper, 'Mind your manners at breakfast, Potter. Try not to make a
