Chapter Text
Chapter Six: Silver and Green
The Sorting Feast had ended, and the Slytherin first-years were ushered through a hidden passage behind the Grand Staircase that spiraled down into the cool depths beneath the castle. The dungeon halls were dimly lit, but not unwelcoming. Flickering green sconces cast eerie shadows on the stone walls, illuminating silver-framed portraits and tapestries woven with snakes and swirling ivy.
The Slytherin common room itself was beautiful in a gothic, underwater way. The stone walls gleamed with enchantments that made them ripple like water. High-backed green velvet chairs surrounded a fire burning with silver flames. The windows showed the lake beyond, where shadows of giant squid tentacles drifted lazily.
Harry stood in the middle of the room, surrounded by his new housemates. He still wore the modified girls' uniform: black stockings under his skirt, pastel purple accents sewn into the hem of his robe, and an opalescent choker with a moonstone set at its center. Some students stared openly. Others sneered.
But Blaise Zabini tilted his head thoughtfully. "You know," he said slowly, "you’re the first person I’ve seen pull off Slytherin goth chic."
Harry grinned. "Wait until I find gloves to match."
Daphne Greengrass snorted. "This is going to be an interesting year."
The next morning, classes began. Harry's schedule was full--Charms, Herbology, History of Magic, Transfiguration, and Potions. He tucked his books into a dragonhide satchel gifted by the goblins, clipped a lace bow to the strap, and added a cluster of enchanted flower pins near the top.
Their first class was Charms with Professor Flitwick, held in a cozy, warm room full of hovering candles and enchanted quills. Flitwick beamed when he saw Harry.
"Ah! Mr. Potter! Splendid, splendid! That brooch you're wearing--raven skull with a gemstone eye--is particularly expressive!"
A few Ravenclaws muttered, but Flitwick raised his wand and the room fell silent.
"Today, we begin levitation. The charm is Wingardium Leviosa. Now, pair up!"
Harry was paired with Theodore Nott, whose neutral expression masked amusement.
"You do realize," Theo murmured, watching Harry practice the wand motion with elegant wrist flicks, "you’re making the whole room watch you."
"Good," Harry said brightly. "They might learn something."
His feather shot into the air on the first try. Flitwick nearly toppled off his stack of books clapping.
Herbology was next, and the first-years bundled into greenhouses that smelled like wet earth and mint. Professor Sprout beamed at them.
"Welcome, everyone! We’ll be replanting Screechsnap bulbs today. Gloves on!"
Harry knelt in the soil without complaint. He tied a black ribbon around his ponytail and rolled up his sleeves, revealing a charm bracelet shaped like coiling ivy.
Sprout noticed. "Mr. Potter, your aesthetic reminds me of my granddaughter. She’s mad for lace and lilac."
"She sounds like she has excellent taste," Harry said.
Sprout chuckled. "Mind the bulbs. They scream when mishandled."
When Ron, who was paired with a Hufflepuff, sneered at Harry and whispered something cruel, his Screechsnap bit him. Sprout gave him a scolding and awarded ten points to Slytherin for Harry’s precise work.
History of Magic was as dull as promised. Professor Binns drifted through the board as he lectured about the Goblin Rebellions.
Harry doodled floral spell circles in the margins of his notes while Theodore watched him from the corner of his eye. Blaise passed him a note folded into the shape of a bat:
You make this class bearable. Also, your earrings sparkle in candlelight.
Transfiguration was held in a grand hall with stained glass windows and perfectly aligned desks. Professor McGonagall swept into the room in emerald robes and sharp spectacles.
"We begin with theory," she said, her gaze skimming over the class. When it landed on Harry, she paused.
He expected a reprimand.
Instead, she said, "Interesting choice of accessory."
He wore a lilac necktie woven with tiny embroidered thestrals. McGonagall blinked once, then nodded.
"Transfiguration is exacting magic, Mr. Potter. But I suspect you enjoy details."
Harry’s smile widened. "I live for them."
The lesson involved turning matches into needles. Harry didn’t quite succeed--his needle wobbled--but McGonagall awarded five points to Slytherin for effort.
Then came Potions, in the chilly dungeon classroom filled with rows of cauldrons and jars of grotesque ingredients.
Professor Snape swept in like a storm cloud, his robes billowing. The class fell silent.
Snape’s eyes landed on Harry.
Harry waited for the storm.
Instead, Snape sneered at the room in general. "If anyone believes clothing affects your ability to brew, I suggest you leave now. Mr. Potter--lovely pins."
Harry blinked. "Thank you, Professor."
Draco Malfoy raised his hand. "Sir, I don’t think it’s proper for someone--"
"Five points from Gryffindor," Snape said coldly.
"But I’m in Slytherin!"
"Then consider it a warning. Ten points for Potter’s self-expression and excellent note-taking."
The room buzzed.
As they chopped valerian roots and stirred clockwise, Snape prowled behind them, occasionally commenting on technique--but when Seamus Finnigan muttered something foul about "freak boys in skirts," Snape pounced.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor. Detention. And another twenty for insubordination."
He leaned down and added in a silky tone, "You will not survive my class with your narrow-minded idiocy, Mr. Finnigan."
By week’s end, most teachers had formed strong opinions.
Professor Sprout treated Harry like a grandchild.
Flitwick adored his flair.
McGonagall, though stern, began asking Harry detailed questions, impressed by his logical, thorough answers.
Snape… well, Snape seemed amused. He allowed no one to challenge Harry’s dress or presence without reprisal. It baffled the other students.
“He protects him,” Daphne whispered to Blaise one evening. “But why?”
Blaise shrugged. “Maybe he likes chaos. Or maybe he sees himself in Harry.”
Theodore Nott simply said, “Harry’s going to change this school. They just don’t know it yet.”