The only two words which can be used to describe the emotions which Severus is currently feeling. The brat is in his House, in Slytherin. Hell surely has become Antarctica. With his family having been in Gryffindor for centuries, surely even Potter was to be in the same House. Or so he had thought, until the illusion was shattered completely just minutes ago.
Apparently, the entire Great Hall was thinking the same, for the entire place is in a lack of any sound. Silence envelopes the entire place as everyone seems to be in shock. Amidst their shock, none notice the small, sly smirk which graces Harry's lips for a second before it vanishes and a blank mask takes it's place. Even as he sits at the Slytherin table, all of his housemates seem to be in shock.
What the hell has gotten into them?! A sneer mentally forms, but Harry suppresses it into a mask of cool indifference. The rest of the Sorting goes by with no more shocks or surprises. And yet, nobody is able to move past the sorting of one certain Harry James Potter. Soon, the food arrives and as everyone digs in, conversation flows.
While some express their genuine surprise at the fact that a Potter would be sorted into Slytherin, others expressed their extreme disgust. None of this, however, reaches the ears of Harry, for none of it matters to him. A thousand words are aimed at him and none fall to the prey of his ears. A thousand eyes stare and yet, only one seems to slightly unnerve him. That of the Head of his House.
Severus keeps a constant watch on the brat, not out of adoration - Merlin help! - but rather out of curiosity. The brat is nothing like he expected him to be. Arrogance, pride...none of it seems to even touch his surface. If anything, a slight slyness seems to reside in him, surrounding by an aura of well-conceited mystery. The carefully hidden visage gives away nothing as to who Potter is, which is all the more confusing to Severus.
Being a spy has it's own perks, one of which is analyzing the slightest expressions and differences in body language. This usually comes in handy when trying to judge his students. However, today, he seems to be at an end when it comes to ascertaining the character of Harry Potter. This terrifies him, for it means that Potter is more of an expert in masking himself than ever known to Severus - a trait which he has known only in Dumbledore and even then, rarely.
As he approaches the Slytherin Common Room with his speech in mind, Severus has the confidence that he can surely stump the vague mystery out of the Potter brat. With that thought in mind and a slight smirk gracing his lips, he glides to the Common Rooms with his robes billowing behind him. As he enters the room, a silence ensues, as the students wait with baited breathes for their Professor to speak.
"The House of Slytherin is the sacred House of Snakes. This house dwells and charges upon brilliance, intelligence and cunningness. Along with these traits, we Slytherins believe in unity and loyalty. If one member of our House faces torment at the hands of anyone out of the House, then the torment falls on the entire House. One's joy becomes everyone's joy in the same way that one's agony becomes everyone's.
I will require complete discipline from my House and I expect a healthy level of competitiveness amongst you lot. Remain untied, remain loyal and remain superior to the dunderheads of the remaining houses. Protect your own and stand for them, for no one else will do so. For the remaining of your schooling, until you reside in Hogwarts, this very room and these very people are to be your family. Hence, it is prudent that you remain civil and refrain from participating in any acts of jealousy or odium towards each other.
If any of you face any hassle in academics or even any personal issues, you are to communicate directly with me. If you wish to speak regarding anything, even if it is just about missing your homes, then you are to approach me. With that being said, you are to remain honest to me when I ask you queries and questions. You may redirect the questions you do not feel comfortable answering, but never, never must you lie to me.”
As he finishes the main part of his speech, Severus takes a glance at his students. The reactions are as expected – some are awe-struck, some are frightened, some even look hopeful. However, as he lets his gaze slide to Potter, something inside of him freezes. The brat is leaning against the wall, crossing his arms and is wearing a blank look.
A look which shouldn’t ever even graze an eleven-year-old is mastered by Potter. As he looks at him, Severus wonders with a horrifying chill as to what may have occurred in the boy’s life for him to be so…blank and masked up. A question to which he hopes to get an answer. Tearing his gaze, forcefully, away from Potter, Severus addresses the rest of the students.
I wish you have a commendable journey at Hogwarts. Have a good night, my little snakes."
With that being said, Severus exits the Common Room and starts towards his own quarters. As soon as the Head of House exits, chatter begins. The consistent noise gives Harry a slight headache and a major irritation, that is, until a pale guy with blonde hair approaches him, closely followed by a guy who has dark, toned skin. Harry slightly tilts his head to examine them and judging by their body language, they don’t seem to mean any harm.
“Hello. I’m Draco Malfoy and this is Blaise Zabini. Good to see that you’re in Slytherin, Potter.”
Harry quietly observes the two boys in front of him. A knack for sensing trouble is something which Harry has mastered in, something which comes in very handy most of the times. As he scans the two boys silently, he notices that they hold nothing but pure and genuine curiosity and honesty. After a second or two, he replies back to their greeting with one of his own – albeit, the voice is guarded and holds no emotions.
“Glad to be in Slytherin.”
A word or two is exchanged between the trio and soon, they bid goodnight to each other. With a swirl of his hand, Harry finishes his daily routine task – no, he isn’t using magic. As soon as he deems it safe, Harry soon escapes into the land of dreams – albeit a troubled one.
As dawn approaches, a certain green-eyed boy finds himself to be the only one yet to be awake. Taking this into his advantage, Harry quickly strides into the bathroom to take a shower and get prepared before anyone wakes up. Ten minutes later, he finds himself completely showered and dressed. As he stands in front of the sink, Harry takes a look at his reflection in the mirror.
Green eyes reflect an innocence so strong that Harry physically reels back. For he knows it that the innocence is fake, for he knows the deceit and darkness in them. For he knows the truth behind those eyes, the painful story behind them.
As he reaches out to turn off the tap, Harry’s shirt sleeve rises up and that’s when he spots it. The damned scar! A thin, white line which encircles around his wrist, shines in contrast to his tan, light brown skin. A sneer finds itself on Harry’s face as he looks at the scar. And suddenly, the hate transforms into fear.
The sound of metal clanging is heard, mixed with small, painful whimpers of a boy. The metal cuts into the tender skin as blood flows mercilessly. Whispers of an older man is heard, telling him to sush down.It’ll be alright, my love. Don’t be afraid.
Pain so agonizing, it was blinding. Liquid seeping out of his body…blood? Maybe. Hurt. Agony. Shame. Pleading. Blinding rage. Helplessness. A druggy-haze. Numbness. Unknown pain. A scream.
As he’s pulled away from his memory, Harry’s sneer becomes very prominent. A blinding darkness threatens to suffocate him and he welcomes it. Bordering on insanity, he welcomes the darkness which transfers from his soul into his eyes. A cold-hearted malice resides in his soul and it grows outwards into his very eyes. The innocent, emerald-like green eyes become distant and is filled with a loathing so strong, even Hades would turn away.
As his eyes turn a dark black, the scar on Harry’s wrist vanishes into nothingness.