The Sorting Ceremony had begun, and Harry felt the weight of anticipation settle heavily in his chest. One by one, names were called, and first-years nervously made their way to the three-legged stool at the front of the Great Hall. Professor McGonagall stood nearby, holding the ancient Sorting Hat, which would determine their houses.

  Harry watched as the Sorting Hat was pced on each student's head, deliberated for a moment, and then announced the house aloud. Cheers erupted from the respective tables as the students joined their new houses, beaming with pride.

  When the name "Charlie Potter" was called, Harry's breath caught. He gnced at the boy who was supposed to be his twin—someone he'd seen only in photographs and occasional glimpses. Charlie confidently made his way to the stool and sat down. The Sorting Hat barely hesitated before calling out, "Gryffindor!"

  Cheers erupted from the Gryffindor table as Charlie grinned and made his way over to join his housemates. Harry let out a sigh of relief, thankful his name hadn’t been announced as Harry Potter. He had no desire to draw attention to himself, especially now.

  After what felt like an eternity, Professor McGonagall called, "Weasley, Harry!"

  Harry’s stomach lurched. He stood up, trying to steady his nerves, and walked toward the stool. His heart pounded as he sat down, his legs shaking slightly. He told himself to stay calm, to remember Fred and George’s advice. He could argue his case if it came to that.

  Professor McGonagall lowered the Sorting Hat onto his head, and Harry braced himself for the conversation to begin.

  But before he could even gather his thoughts, the hat spoke in a booming voice, "Slytherin!"

  The words echoed through the Great Hall, and Harry froze in disbelief. He hadn’t even had a chance to argue, to plead his case. The hat had barely touched his head before making its decision.

  Gasps rippled through the hall, and Harry could feel the weight of a hundred pairs of eyes on him. The Slytherin table erupted into appuse, but Harry could barely hear it over the rush of blood in his ears.

  His legs felt like lead as he stood up and walked toward the Slytherin table, his mind racing. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. He was supposed to have a say. He was supposed to fight for Gryffindor.

  He slid into an empty seat at the Slytherin table, his face flushed with embarrassment and anger. Fred and George had been so sure he could influence the hat, and now he felt like he’d let them down.

  As the Sorting continued, Harry barely registered the names being called. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts. How would the Weasleys react? What would Fred and George say? Would Ron still want to be his friend?

  The only thing Harry knew for certain was that his Hogwarts journey was not going to be what he had expected.

  It wasn’t until someone sat down beside him and spoke that Harry was jolted back to reality.

  “Hello,” said a smooth voice. Harry turned to see a tall boy with dark skin and sharp, elegant features. “I’m Bise Zabini. From Italy.”

  Harry blinked, his shock ebbing slightly as he took in the boy’s calm demeanor. “Uh, hi. Harry... Weasley.”

  Bise arched an eyebrow but didn’t comment on the name. Instead, he extended a hand, and Harry shook it hesitantly.

  “First time in Britain?” Harry asked, trying to keep the conversation going, if only to distract himself.

  “Not quite,” Bise replied with a faint smile. “My mother’s been married to a few British wizards. I’ve visited before, but this is my first time at Hogwarts.”

  The ease with which Bise spoke began to calm Harry’s nerves. The boy seemed confident but not overbearing, and his measured tone helped ground Harry.

  “What about you?” Bise asked. “You seem... new to all this.”

  Harry shrugged, not sure how to expin. “Yeah, sort of. It’s... complicated.”

  Bise gave him a curious look but didn’t press. Instead, he gestured toward the table. “Well, welcome to Slytherin. You’ll find we’re an interesting lot.”

  Harry managed a small smile, feeling slightly better. He gnced over at the Gryffindor table and was surprised to see Fred and George waving at him with wide grins on their faces. Despite their teasing and high expectations, they didn’t look disappointed or upset. If anything, they seemed amused, as if they knew Harry would end up where he was.

  Their smiles eased the tension in Harry’s chest. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

  After the feast ended, the Slytherin prefects stood and began gathering the first-years. A tall, elegant girl with sleek bck hair introduced herself as Gemma Farley. “First-years, follow me,” she instructed, her voice carrying an air of authority.

  The group of new Slytherins followed her out of the Great Hall and down a series of stone staircases. The further they descended, the cooler and darker it became. The flickering torchlight cast long shadows on the walls as they made their way deeper into the dungeons.

  “Welcome to the Slytherin common room,” Gemma said, stopping in front of a bare stretch of stone wall. She tapped it with her wand and spoke, “Pureblood.”

  The wall slid aside to reveal a dimly lit room decorated in shades of green and silver. The common room had an eerie beauty, with low-hanging mps casting a soft glow and windows that looked out into the murky depths of the Bck Lake. The furniture was ornate and luxurious, with high-backed chairs and leather couches arranged around a rge firepce.

  Gemma turned to face the group. “This is your home for the next seven years. Keep it tidy, follow the rules, and remember: Slytherins stick together.”

  Harry followed the others into the room, taking in his surroundings with a mix of awe and apprehension. It was nothing like he had imagined, but there was an undeniable charm to it.

  As he sat down on one of the couches, Bise took a seat beside him, offering him a slight smile. “Not so bad, is it?”

  Harry shrugged, feeling a little more at ease. “I guess not.”

  For the first time since the Sorting, Harry felt a sliver of hope. Maybe Slytherin wasn’t what he’d expected, but it didn’t mean it had to be bad. It was just the beginning, after all.

  The Slytherin common room fell silent as the door creaked open, and in strode a tall, thin man with greasy bck hair and a sweeping bck cloak. His presence was commanding, and his piercing dark eyes scanned the room, making every student sit up a little straighter. Harry immediately recognized him from the stories his brothers had told.

  Professor Severus Snape.

  Fred and George had described him as a sharp-tongued, sneering man who favored Slytherins and seemed to delight in making life miserable for anyone from other houses, especially Gryffindor. Now, seeing him in person, Harry could see why they thought so.

  “Welcome to Slytherin,” Snape began, his voice soft yet somehow cutting through the silence like a bde. “For some of you, this will feel like coming home. For others, it may feel... unexpected.”

  Harry felt a flicker of unease at the subtle gnce Snape gave him but kept his expression neutral.

  “Slytherin is not just a house,” Snape continued. “It is a family. Here, we value ambition, cunning, and resourcefulness—traits that will set you apart from the rest of this school. But being a Slytherin means more than personal success. It means presenting a united front. Whatever differences you may have with each other are to be settled within these walls. We do not air our grievances for the other houses to see.”

  Snape’s gaze swept across the room, lingering briefly on a few students who seemed to shrink under his scrutiny.

  “To that end, we have our own methods of resolving disputes,” he added, his tone taking on an edge. “The dueling ring is a tradition within Slytherin. If you have an issue with a fellow housemate, you may challenge them to a duel. However, these duels are to be supervised and controlled. Outside interference or unsanctioned fights will not be tolerated.”

  Harry gnced around at his fellow first-years. Most looked nervous, though a few, like Bise Zabini, appeared intrigued.

  Snape continued, “As Slytherins, you will be held to higher expectations. The other houses will look for any excuse to undermine you. Do not give them that chance. Your actions reflect not only on yourselves but on this house as a whole.”

  His voice softened, though it lost none of its intensity. “If you succeed, you will be respected, feared, and envied. That is what it means to be a Slytherin. Do not forget it.”

  Snape’s speech ended as abruptly as it began, and he looked around the room once more before speaking again. “Your schedules will be distributed in the morning. For now, get some rest. Tomorrow, your education begins.”

  With that, he turned on his heel and swept out of the common room, his robes billowing behind him.

  Harry let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Beside him, Bise smirked. “Quite the speech, isn’t it? He knows how to make an impression.”

  Harry nodded, still processing what he’d just heard. This wasn’t what he had expected. Slytherin was different—more intense, more disciplined, and, strangely enough, more united than he had imagined.

  The Slytherin common room buzzed with quiet chatter as Cameron Bole, a seventh-year prefect, stood in the center of the room to address the first-years. With an air of authority and a mischievous smirk, he began expining the sleeping arrangements.

  “In Slytherin,” he started, his voice calm but ced with a challenge, “you have a choice. You can share a dormitory with your fellow first-years, or, if you’re feeling particurly brave, you can cim a room of your own. There’s plenty of space in the dungeons, and we have a system for personal rooms.”

  He paused, his smirk growing. “But let me warn you—ciming a room isn’t just about finding an empty one. It’s about keeping it. Slytherin seniors have a... tradition, let’s say, of testing those who think they’re bold enough to take a room for themselves. It’s a way to keep things interesting.”

  Several first-years exchanged nervous gnces. Bole continued, his tone teasing but serious. “Most lower-years, wisely, stick together in the dormitory. But if anyone thinks they’re up to the challenge of defending a personal room, by all means, make your cim.”

  The first-years turned their attention to the older students. Many of the uppercssmen were already heading off to their personal rooms, some alone and others in pairs or trios. It was clear that individual rooms were a status symbol, a sign of confidence—or foolishness.

  The group of first-years, wide-eyed and whispering amongst themselves, unanimously began moving toward the designated first-year dormitory. All except Harry.

  Harry stood still, his mind made up. He wasn’t sure if it was pride, defiance, or simply a desire to test himself, but he stepped forward and looked directly at Bole. “I’ll take my own room.”

  The room went silent.

  Bole arched an eyebrow, clearly amused. “Are you sure about that, Weasley?” he asked, his tone carrying both a challenge and a hint of respect.

  Harry nodded firmly. “I’m sure.”

  The other first-years stared at him in shock, their disbelief mirrored in the expressions of several older students who had paused to watch the scene unfold. Even Bise, who had been silently observing, looked mildly impressed.

  A low murmur spread through the room as students exchanged incredulous gnces. It wasn’t unheard of for a first-year to cim their own room, but it was rare—especially for someone who didn’t come from an established Slytherin lineage.

  “Bold move,” Bole said, his smirk widening. “Alright, then. Pick a room. Let’s see how long you keep it.”

  Harry didn’t hesitate. He walked toward the hall where the private rooms were located, his heart pounding but his resolve unwavering. He found an empty room, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. It was small but cozy, with a four-poster bed, a desk, and a wardrobe.

  As he set his trunk down and began unpacking, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of nerves and excitement. He knew the choice he had made would set him apart, not just from the first-years but from many of the older students as well.

  Back in the common room, Bise shook his head with a slight grin. “Well, this is going to be interesting.”

  Cameron Bole chuckled, his eyes gleaming. “Indeed. Let’s see if young Weasley has what it takes to keep that room.”

  Harry might not have realized it yet, but his decision had already sent ripples through the house. It was a bold move, a Griffindor move, and everyone was watching to see how he would handle the challenges to come.

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