Better Be Slytherin!

Better Be Slytherin! – Chapter 25

By jharad17

Disclaimer: Not mine. I imagine I'll get over it.

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:

As Severus took a book of his own from one of the pockets of his voluminous robes, and settled back in his chair, he mused that there might be hope for him and the son of James Potter getting along after all.

Harry Potter absolutely loathed the Infirmary. He had disliked it before, but after his most recent stay, when Madam Pomfrey clucked over him like a mother hen and made him sleep and eat and take foul potions, when there was nothing really wrong with him, once his broken arm was fixed . . . he decided he never wanted to go in there again. He was not accustomed to having people hover over him, or feel his forehead every few minutes, or ask him how he was doing every half hour, and it was suffocating.

It might have been nice if he was five years old . . . in fact, when he had been five, he would have appreciated the attention, since he had never gotten any from his aunt and uncle, no matter how ill or injured he was. But at more than eleven years, he was not a baby to be coddled, and he did not like it at all. It made him feel young, and stupid, and he always had a running voice in his head telling him he wasn't worth anyone's attention anyway.

Thus, it was a great relief when he was finally released from Madam Pomfrey's care after two full days of bed rest. His arm was healed, though she told him to take it easy, not to do any heavy lifting, and that he wasn't to play Quidditch or even fly, until he was given her permission. Patches of black, blue, yellow and green skin littered his arm, and he was vaguely impressed by the job he'd done on it, though he'd never say so. His ribs were still a bit tender, but at least it didn't hurt to breathe anymore.

When Madam Pomfrey told him he could go at last, he thanked her quickly, shoved the few gifts he'd been given – including another unsigned box of Chocolate Frogs – into his bag, and lit out of her domain without looking back.

The next few days were crammed with classes, restless nights, and frequent lectures from Flint about Quidditch safety and the necessity of using a bat when engaging the Bludger. Each evening he had a tutoring session with Professor Snape directly after dinner. The sessions did not last as long as the detentions had previously, only two hours or so, instead of four to five. And afterwards, Harry had time to hang out with his friends, and was even able to spend time with his own study group so he could keep up with current material.

Though it felt odd to have all this extra time, oddest of all was during the sessions, when Snape had been . . . not evil. Not even mean. Or, not very mean anyway. He actually explained things that Harry didn't understand in his readings, and went over problems he was having in his essays with a patience Harry never would have thought the man possessed.

He could not, for the life of him, figure the professor out. But he was very glad things had settled down a bit.

On the Monday after his release from the Infirmary, Harry and Teddy were in the Library. On the table in front of them was the new box of chocolates. They were testing the anonymous gift with some of the same spells as they'd used on the first one, to see if this one had been tampered with – no sense in taking chances – when Teddy said, 'I saw Professor Snape watching you at lunch today. He wasn't snarling.'

Harry snickered. 'Weird, huh? I figure he must have been hit with Confundus or something.'

'No doubt.' Teddy cast one of the easier Revealing charms, to no effect, then looked at Harry askance. 'Draco said he even came to see you in the Infirmary.'

'Draco's got a big mouth.'

Teddy grinned. 'Yeah. But he knows stuff, too.'

'What kind of stuff?'

With a shrug, Teddy pointed at the next spell in the book, and Harry spent a few moments trying out the wand motions, before he cast the charm at the box of Frogs. Nothing.

'What kind of stuff?' Harry asked again.

'About the professor. And your father.'

Harry gaped at him. 'What about my father?' He recalled what the Bloody Baron had told, about how Snape had not got along with James Potter, and that this was one of the reasons he might have had for treating Harry so shabbily. But the Baron had not been willing to elaborate. In fact, Harry had not seen very much of the Baron the last few days, although he always seemed to be there when Harry was alone . . . like he was guarding him or something.

It was sort of disconcerting.

But even more so was that Draco – and apparently Teddy – knew things about James Potter that Harry didn't. Of course, almost everyone did, really. All Harry knew was that his father had played Quidditch.

'They, um, didn't get along at school,' Teddy said.

'I know that.' The Bloody Baron had told him as much.

'Yeah.' Teddy cast another spell, which made the box glow red for a brief second, but that was the intended effect, so there was still nothing wrong with the sweets. 'But I mean they really didn't get on. Your father was in a gang of sorts, with a couple other blokes. They called themselves The Marauders.'

'The Marauders?' Such a nickname sounded like something Dudley's crew would have come up with, and the comparison gave Harry a very uneasy feeling.

Teddy nodded, and pointed out the next spell, which Harry took his turn to cast. Nothing. Then Teddy said, 'Apparently The Marauders didn't like Slytherins very much; they were all in Gryffindor.'