A Darker Form of Magic

The castle door swung open with more force than Harry felt was necessary to reveal a tal, stern faced witch in emerald - green robes looking down upon the first years. There was something in the analytical expression that the woman held that reminded the boy of Aunt Petunia spying on the neighbors, silently judging them from a distance. Harry didn't like the feeling much and could tell that the others didn't either from the way that the other kids shifted under her hard gaze.

"The first years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid announced. It was not lost on Harry that the giant held this woman in a similar level of respect as the school headmaster that he seemed to all but worship like a kind of deity.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

The witch pulled the door open wide to reveal what Harry could only assume was the entrance hall to the castle. The ceiling was high enough that Harry had to crane his neck back to see it fully. One of the walls was filled with what looked to be an seemingly endless store of an army of carved, faceless soldiers made of stone. Harry felt as if they would come alive if he only knew the right words to speak.

Professor McGonagall led them across the flagged stone and into a small, empty chamber off of the main hall. Harry found himself crowding and bunching himself up next to Draco more than he would ever be willing to admit as everyone pressed together nervously. Though his reason for doing so was different from the other first years.

The magic in the castle felt almost suffocating, drowning the boy in something so other than his own that he couldn't help but feel sick from it all. No one seemed to notice or be bothered by it all, but Harry could hardly stand it. So Harry pressed closely to the boy who's magic felt the most like his own.

Harry didn't hear what the professor said, whatever long speech it was that she gave. He cared more about the hand rose ting on his arm, steadying the smaller boy even though the blond couldn't possibly know what was wrong. 

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few short minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest that you all take this time to smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Harry watched as the witch's eyes went to Neville's upturned cloak, and how they seemed to linger on the red headed boy from the boats which seemed to have dirt smudged on his nose somehow.

With one last sweeping glance, Professor McGonagall strode away and left true students alone in the chamber.

—-

Snape watched with a growing headache as the stool and Sorting Hat were brought out to the front of the Great Hall. The student's voices rose excitedly as they did each time that they saw the raged, old thing. To them it was still a marvel to see the first years sorted, to place bets on who would go where. The professor just found the whole thing to be a waste of time that he could be spending doing absolutely anything else other than watching nervous brats sit on a stool, wearing a too big hat. But this year was different.

Because of course it was.

The Professor watched carefully as the first years walked cautiously into the hall, all of them huddled foolishly together as if it would protect any of them from the prying eyes of the older students. It didn't. It wasn't until the last ten or so students walked in that the potions master found just what he was looking for.

Four students stood bunched tightly together at the back of the crowd of first years. One was a bushy haired girl and another was the Longbottom boy, who looked more nervous than a fairy around iron. A shock of blond hair caught the professor's attention next, to say that he was surprised to find the Malfoy boy next to Potter would be an understatement.

The pair of boys were locked in tightly against one another, Malfoy holding onto Potter's arm as if the smaller boy was some kind of toddler that couldn't walk on his own. Snape would have scorned at the sight if the image of James Potter himself rolling over in his grave at the sight didn't bring the man so much joy.

The Sorting Hat went through its usual song, speaking of each house in just enough detail to draw in the first year's attention to one or two. It wasn't a short song either, but the small group didn't part at all during it. The most movement that was made was the Longbottom boy grappling with what seemed to be a toad.

Thick as thieves already and they haven't even known once another a full day yet, the potions master thought bitterly.

Images of another group of four came to the professors mind without meeting much reluctance, how could it when one of them was a photocopy of someone long gone. Looking down at them, Snape was sure that there would be another brat or two in Gryffindor.

He never dreamed that he would be wrong.

Snape watched as the three boys clapped furiously as the bushy haired girl, Granger, was sorted into Ravenclaw, not a single one of their expressions shifted into anything but pride. A curious sight, given the fact that the girl was most certainly a muggle born, and Snape knew exactly what the elder Malfoy's views on them were. He couldn't help but wonder what made the younger's mind change from that of his father.

Next was the Longbottom boy, who Snape was more than surprised to see found his way to Gryffindor. The boy looked more like a hazard in the lab than anything resembling an idiotic lion. Hufflepuff would have been a better sort in the potions professor's opinion; but then again, he wasn't some all knowing hat.

Thank Merlin for that, the man thought, taking a deep sip from his goblet.

Snape had expected the youngest Malfoy to swagger up to the stage when his name was called, filled with whatever sense of righteousness his father had taken the past eleven years to instill in him. What he saw instead was the blond looking down at the smaller boy, only leaving once Potter gave an unsteady nod. 

The younger Malfoy moved quickly through the crowd of students, seating himself on the stool nervously and was sorted into Slytherin a moment after the hat had touched his head. Through it all, the potofessort noted, Malfoy's gaze never left Potter.

The sorting carried on, with Snape recognizing more names than he truly wanted to as the children of people that he had once known were sorted into Slytherin.

Then it came.

"Potter, Harry!"

Whispers erupted anew among the students and between the staff as well, all of it about the short boy. Snape couldn't hear what the students had to say, but the staff was taking bets on who the boy would take after and which house the boy would go to. Snape knew that the brat would be just like his arrogant, wretched father, but no one had asked the man for that exact reason. 

The boy slipped through the crowd as if he was made from water, the students that remained moving out of the brat's way as they took the opportunity to gawk at Howgwart's newest celebrity. The boy didn't even bother to meet their eyes. Snape watched as the boy slid onto the stool, his legs dangling high above the ground. The hat was placed onto the boy's head, all but swallowing the brat whole. Snape waited for the inevitable verdict.

…and waited.

It was a long moment before the tear in the Sorting Hat opened once more to form a mouth, yelling out the name that the professor hadn't been expecting in the least. 

"SLYTHERIN!"

What the actual fuck?

The Great Hall was completely silent as the boy slid off of the stool, a complete contrast to the usual loud cheers that should have been heard. It wasn't long before furious whispers broke out once more, but Snape didn't watch the boy cross the hall or the students within it. The professor's eyes tore quickly to the aged wizard sitting at the center of the High Table. 

The Headmaster's usually twinkling eyes were much colder than anyone's should have been when regarding a child - not that the potions master thought that he had much room to speak in that regard. The man's mouth was twisted in displeasure and something else that the professor couldn't name, something haunting, as if he was regarding a monster that he had already seen once before.

Nothing was going the way that Snape thought that it would.

—-

Darkness settles over Harry's eyes as he sits down on the stool, the feeling of the foreign magic making the boy feel sicker than he had only a moment before. 

'Tricky, very tricky…' a voice whispered in Harry's mind and the scarred boy fought back the urge to flinch, knowing that she couldn't show weakness with everyone watching like this. The hat seemed to notice anyways. 'A boy fearful of showing weakness and a thirst to prove himself to accompany it,' it mused thoughtfully, making Harry's skin crawl as the hat rooted around in his mind.

You can see my memories, right? Harry thought, feeling more than foolish about speaking with a dingy old hat of all things. A magically sentient one sure, but a hat all the same.

'Ah, curiosity as well, no matter how much you have tried to force it down,' the hat continued, not bothering to answer the boy as it continued to dig.

Either sort me or I'll shred you with my switchblade, the boy thought seriously, punishment be damned.

Harry wasn't even surprised when the Sorting Hat quickly screamed out the name of the house of snakes, he just hurried to Draco's side, not even caring that hardly anyone clapped. Harry was more concerned with pressing himself tightly against the fairer boy, with drowning out the magic around him. 

The sorting finished with a dark skinned boy, Blaise Zabini, taking the seat in front of the two boys at the Slytherin table, something like intireset written in his dark eyes. Harry didn't have the time to evaluate it though as a man that the boy could only assume was the school headmaster rose to his feet.

Anger was swift to swell in Harry's gut as the man that had placed him with the Dursleys spread his arms out wide and smiled down at all of them kindly with a smile that he didn't truly believe. In the back of his mind Harry couldn't help but wonder if the others around him could feel the anger tingling against their skin as well.

"Welcome!" Dumbledore called out loudly, all of the voices in the hall quickly quitting down to allow the wizard to speak. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Now, a few words before we start our feast, and they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

The man sat back down and all of the older years and staff clapped as if anything that the other man had just said was remotely normal or made any sense at all. Looking around at the other first years, Harry knew that it wasn't.

"What in the ever living fuck was that?" Harry whispered just a little too loudly under his breath. Draco, Zabini, a girl that he thought might have been named Parkinson, and a third boy - Nott? - all turned to look at the smallest boy. Harry thought that he ought have shrunk under their gazes, but he only looked at the other four and shrugged. "We were all thinking it."

 Draco laughed, drawing the startled eyes of the other three children to him. "Merlin, Harry," the boy all but gasped, "only you would have the gall to insult the Headmaster before the term had even started." 

Harry noticed that the other boy seemed to be proud.

Harry glanced up at the Head Table, at the wizard im question with strangely false eyes. "Before then, actually," the boy corrected.

Draco looked down at Harry with a wild shine in his gray eyes that the boy couldn't really understand. The closest that he had ever come to seeing a look like this before was just before Dudley and his lot decided to jump him, but the other boy didn't seem threatening at all. Not to Harry at least.

"Blimey, you pair are strange," a new voice cursed. The boys looked away from one another and to the boy sitting across from them. Harry and Draco only shrugged at the accusations they reached for the food that had appeared on the brojzenplatterss before them all.

All across the table there was more food than Harry had ever seen in his life, and it was surprising to know that he could handle as much as he wanted. Food was always a rarity for the boy at the Dursleys, with the family gathering to have their fill first and Harry being allowed the scraps. Dudley took those straight from the boy's plate more times than not, even though it often made the older boy sick to do so.

At the end of the table Harry could see two plump, bovine boys sitting next to and in front of the bloodiest ghost in the Great Hall. The man, though transparent, was dressed in the clothes of old nobility, thoroughly stained by blood that looked as if it would never dry. He didn't pity the pair that got stuck sitting by him, he was just happy that it wasn't him. 

"That's the Bloody Baron," Parkinson informed, having noticed the boy's staring, leaning across the table almost conspiratorially from Zabini's right. "He's the Slytherin House ghost." 

The girl had short cut black hair and a proper face that made her look like some daughter of high society. Harry didn't think he'd be wrong to think so. Most of the Slytherin students looked far more posh than Harry ever thought that he would.

Harry nodded at Ute girl and retired to his food, eating as much of it as he could, which was to say not a lot. His stomach seemed to protest when he tried to take in more than a few bites. The other boy, Zabini, seemed to notice but had apparently chosen not to comment on it. Harry noted that he hadn't eaten very much either. The pair shared a look before turning to talk to others at the table.

Daphne Greengrass, a pretty blond girl on Harry's other side, ended up being a good person to speak with. The girl was interested in Transfiguration, a sub just that sounded a lot like Alchemy to the black haired boy, just without the muggle science mixed into it. Transfiguration was purely magic, and seemingly very intention oriented.

A hush fell over the Great Hall as the food disappeared and the Headmaster stood once more. Harry pushed down his anger with the man to listen to the start - of - term announcements that the wizard had to make, he didn't really fancy getting on any of the teachers' bad sides so early into his schooling, not with a full seven years left ahead of him.

The older wizard informed that the woods surrounding the school were off limits to all students. Harry didn't think that he was imagining the way that the man's eyes seemed to linger on the Gryffindor table for a beat longer than rest upon saying so.

The wizard continued to speak, going through what must be a familiar speech by now. "And finally, I must inform you that the third floor corridor is off limits to all those who don't wish to die a most horrible and painful death." Harry noticed that some of the older years looked confused about the rule, glancing at one another as if it was a new one.

"'Horrible and painful death,' sign me up," Harry said in the most monotone voice that he had, laying his head in his hand. The others around him snickered lightly under their breath. It seemed that even the posh had a sense of dark humor.

"Now," Dumbledore continued, "before we go to bed, let's sing the school song!"

Harry watched as the teachers' smiles became rather forced on their faces as all of the older years sprung to their feet like the children that they were. The first years were slower to rise. Harry shot Draco a look as the words to the supposed school song appeared before them at the front of the Great Hall. Draco returned it with a look of his own as everyone else began to sing.

The song was offbeat and had no rather to it once so ever, everyone finishing at different times as two red headed Gryffindors - twins? - sang it so slow that one would think that they were soldered marching to their own death.

When the boys were finally done, the headmaster released the student body to go to their house dormitories. The prefects led the first years after telling a few of the older years what the password was so that they wouldn't be stuck outside all night after catching up with friends from other houses.

Harry watched as the three other houses made their way deeper in the castle, going the opposite way of the house of snakes.Hufflepuff seemed to be sticking to the main floor, but the other two made straight for the stairs. Slytherin did as well, only they went down them, not up.

The lighting became dimmer as the windows disappeared and all there was to light the way were the torches on the walls. Eventually the prefects, a cruel faced boy and a jittery girl, stopped in front of a torch with a little green jem at its base. A difference so small that it was much too easy to overlook. 

"The password for the next two weeks will be a knocking pattern, so that you lot can find the door. After that we'll change it to a word phrase," the female prefect explained before turning to the wall and raising her first.

Knock. Knock. Pause. Knock. Knock. Knock. Pause. Knock.

The first years watched in wonder as a portion of the wall shimmered and disappeared to reveal a lavishly decorated common room. Everything was shades of green, black, or silver. The ceilings were tall enough that it felt as if someone could set off fireworks inside and the ceiling still would not be touched, though Harry knew that the idea was illogical. Didn't mean that he didn't want to try it any less.

There were dark couches and chairs that Harry thought that the Dursleys would have drooled over if they were to see them. Rugs covered the cool stone floors as tapestries covered the walls. The most breathtaking sight was the far wall that was completely made of glass, showing off the inside of the lake that they had gone through only a few hours before.

It was beautiful in the same way that the night was often stunning.

But it wasn't just that.

The magic here felt different from that of the rest of the castle. 

Being in the Slytherin common room, it felt as if Harry could finally breathe again. As if he could function without Draco pressed into his side like some sort of oxygen mask. For the first time since coming to Hogwarts, Harry almost felt healthy of all things, better than he ever had before.

The prefects let the first years gawk for a moment longer before speaking once more.

"My name is Gemma Farley," the girl introduced, her eyes traveling slowly over the small sea of students. The perfect had a smil build, tanned skin firm the sun, and dark brown hair that was either dyed or spelled to have blue streaks in it. "And this is Hall," she said, motioning to the more built boy at her side. "We'll be your fifth year prefects this year.

"I want all of you to find a seat and wait for the rest of the house to come," Gemma continued, already looking tired. "We have one last order of business to deal with tonight."

And so they waited.

Harry and Draco sat next to each other on the smallest couch while the other first years took the rest of the chairs and the larger couch. Each of them leaned into the fire and spoke minimalism as they waited. 

The others, Harry noticed, seemed to be filling asleep like they had been at the end of the feast, but Harry was wide awake. His magic seemed to sing in his blood more and more the longer that he spent in the common room, latching onto the ambient magic in the air that felt so similar to his own; to Draco's, the walls of the Dursley home, and his cupboard as well.

The rest of Slytherin House slowly added to the common room over the following hour, mixing about in already formed groups from the previous years. Though none of them were subtly about staring at Harry, they boy chose not to point it out. He figured if they got their fill now, then it would be easier to coexist in the long run. The only stare that he did meet was that of the last person to join the common room: the Slytherin Head of House.

Dark eyes met green for long enough that Draco seemed to pick up on the gaze. The boy shot a confused look between the pair before settling on Harry.

"I don't think he likes me very much," Harrybwhisoerdnto the other boy, ducking his head and breaking the stare, Harry twisted to sit properly on the couch once more.

"It's only the first night," Draco started, following suit, "Snape can't hate you already." But Harry could tell that not even Draco believed what he was saying. 

all of the students stood up quickly and made their way to the center of the room, forming a wide circle around the Professor. Harry indulged in his urge to stay to the back of the mass, even if that put him and Draco near the seventh years, and it meant that they couldn't exactly see the wizard speaking.

"I won't stand here and tell you that being in Slytherin House will make your easy, because it won't," the Professor drawled, surprising Harry with his candor. All of the other adults that he'd ever met before would only tell pretty lies at a time like this. "If you wanted easy you should have chosen Hufflepuff. Slytherin is the most hated of the four houses," he continued. "But we are almost the whoms of those that will do anything to meet our ends. We may lack a Gryffindor's moronic bravery, but we are of the cunning sort that survivors are made from. I don't care what binds form among you all, but outside of these walls, you will act as one united front."

In the professor's speech, Harry could almost hear his own from the train being echoed, about not making more enemies than already exist. It was a surreal experience to say the least.

"I'll leave it to you now, prefects, you know what to do." And with tha, the Head of Slytherin House swiftly left as if he'd never been there at all.

Hall moved in the crowd and took the place that the professor had just vacated, drawing all of the attention to him. "In Slytherin, we have beginning of the year duels to decide alliances and flush out any bad blood from years previous," the perfect explained for the first years' benefit. "The only rule is that nothing lethal can be cast. Anyone can be challenged, just as anyone can challenge. You don't have to accept, but remember that this is your chance to prove where you stand, if you want that to be at the bottom then that's your own fucking problem."

"Anyone who doesn't want to fight should leave now," Gemma said, stepping up beside the other prefect. "Those wishing to watch should know that they risk being challenged too."

Harry watched as some of the younger years scurried away to the comfort of their dormitories, Greg and Vince among them. Some of the older students went as well, though with much less urgency than their younger counterparts. Harry and the other Slytherin first years stayed, the group moving together to the edge of the room as a clear space was created for the dueling to take place.

"The first challenger may step forward."

A tall boy with a slothish face and thick fingers to match his large build stepped forwards, his slightly downturned eyes much too cold. His gaze traveled slowly around the room before landing on the small huddle of first years. On Harry.

Gemma and Hall noticed it too.

"Warrington, you can't be serious," the girl protested. Even Hall looked as if he wanted to as well. Harry guess that it must be frowned upon from someone that is likely in at least their fourth year to challenge a first year. The age gap and experience gap was too great for it to ever be anything close to fair.

"Nothing says that I can't," the boy reminded her, more than a hint of self righteousness coloring the older teen's tone. "Besides, he can always take the shame of giving up. Right, Harry Potter?"

Harry could feel the eyes of every soul in the room laying on him, but he couldn't have cared less. Not when there was a boy just like his cousin standing before him. Not when he could make him hurt.

Brushing off the set or two of hands that tried to grab onto him, to hold him back, Harry walked into the clearing and stood opposite of the older boy. "I accept."

Harry noticed that everyone else in the common room had fallen silent as the two students moved a decent distance from one another. He could tell that, while no one was happy about Warrington challenging a first year, that didn't stop them from being instructed as to what's to come. Harry just wondered if they could all feel the magic in the room too, because he felt almost indestructible from all of it.

A truly dangerous thing to feel.

"Are you not going to pull out your wand, Potter?" The older boy asked, a laugh in his voice that no one else, save two particularly neatly looking twins, felt the need to echo.

But HDry only shrugged. "I was raised muggle. I don't know any spells to use. The wand would only be just some fancy stick in my hand."

It wasn't exactly true, actually it was a blatant lie. Harry had already read all of their Defense Against the Dark Arts book for the year, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self - Protection, and had found some interesting spells in there and in The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1). He just hadn't been able to try any of them just yet. 

He didn't need them either.

Some of the older students scowled at the mention of muggles, but - much to Harry's relief - the other first years only looked concerned for the boy.

Harry looked to the prefects and nodded, showing that he was ready. With an endless laugh, Warrington did the same.

"Begin," Gemma said, speaking as if she was condemning Harry to the gallows.

"Stupefy!" Warrington yelled, a jet of red light sprouting from the tip of his wand, but Harry was already moving.

The younger of the two boys let his body go into autopilot and twisted away from the spell as if it was a knife.

Roll. Duck. Evade.

Harry dodged each of the spells coming towards him until he got close enough to the older boy to see the details on the boy's wand. Warrington raised his other hand and punched Harry across the face with a manic smile. Though the older boy was slow, they were too close for Harry to properly evade so he took the brunt of it.

However, Harry only smiled in a dangerous way as blood ran freely down his nose. "C'mon," the boy taunted, "my uncle hits harder than that."

Surprise flashed across the older boy's face and Harry took that moment to kick the wand out of the boy's hand, grabbing it in a swift motion as it fell to the floor.

Ducking behind Warrington, Harry hit the older boy in the back of the leg, forcing him to the ground despite the vast difference in height that was present. In less than a moment Harry had his knife at the boy's throat and Warrington's own poised at the other boy's temple.

"You know, I really don't know how to use this thing," Harry lied, pushing the wand further into the soft spot of the older boy's head until he winced, "so you should call it quits now before I do something that I shouldn't."

The older boy made a deep growling noise but nodded nonetheless, careful of the blade at his throat. Harry pressed the switchblade in harder anyways and made a tsking noise. "Verbal answer," he said coldly.

"I forfeit," Warrington spat.

But Harry wasn't going to let him go just like that.

With a quick movement, Harry brought the blade across the older boy's throat, pressing just hard enough to make the older Slytherin bleed. To make the boy scar. But not enough that he would die.

"Potter wins," Hall announced with a strange note in his voice that Harry couldn't identify.

Pushing Warrington the rest of the way to the ground, Harry walked back to the other first years as another boy rushed to the older teen's side. He could feel the glare of the older boys on his back, but only dropped the wand in response and wiped the blood from his nose.

No one clapped, but Harry didn't expect them to. The boy just headed to the first year dormitories. He was surprised though when the other boys followed behind him.

The Slytherin dorms were just as painfully posh as the common room, with lavish wallpaper that showed images of trees with snakes slithering from branch to branch. The fireplace was already burning brightly in the back of the room when they walked in, casting a soft glow across it, but once the four boys had come in fully small fairy lights the color of the lake sprung to life, illuminating the room more fully. There were six four - poster beds in the room, each of them with a trunk in front of it, and thick green curtains drawn around them. The two beds closest to the door were already taken by the last two Slytherin boys.

Harry found his trunk in front of the bed on the left side of the room, coostest to the fire. Draco's was across from his, with Nott next to the other boy and Zabini taking up the middle on Harry's side.

The boys moved quietly around the room while getting dressed for bed, each of them careful not to wake the sleeping snakes. Harry changed quickly in the bathroom after washing the blood from his face. He didn't want the others to see the scars marring his body or the dark bruises from sparring. 

When Harry laid down to sleep that night, he closed his eyes and thought of the stars, of the constellations that he knew now by heart. When he opened them once more, Harry saw those very stars glistening across the roof of the bed.

That night Harry dreamt of a field and wondered if the other boy thought of it too.