The older gazes in the room were far more wary, sliding towards Harry and then away. Nobody would look him in the eyes for long, which made him wonder how much Legilimency Snape tended to use as part of House discipline. Of course Harry was no Legilimens, but he got the feeling that some of the students here might be wondering.
Nott was hanging towards the back, flanked by Goyle and Zabini. His gaze too was wary, though he gave a weak smile once when Harry glanced his way.
"You all know of my son Harry, of course," Snape began in a smooth voice, his hand coming to lightly rest on the boy's shoulder. "However, I suspect that very few of you really know him. Do you realise, for example, that when he first came to Hogwarts, he was very nearly sorted into Slytherin?"
Harry almost objected to his father disclosing that, but by then it was too late. And anyway, Snape's hand tightening on his shoulder warned him not to interfere with what his father wanted to say.
"Yes, that snake on his crest isn't there merely on account of the adoption," Snape went on, nodding at the slight hum of noise that had greeted his surprising pronouncement. "Harry Potter is Slytherin where it counts, at least in part. Now, I know that we have our differences with Gryffindor, but I also have full confidence that you will welcome my son into our House. To do otherwise would be less than Slytherin, to say the least, since Mr. Potter's presence here could prove most advantageous to you. I shall expect you to include him in your study groups and social activities, of course, and I would like to mention that you might consider asking him to proofread your essays as I have found him to be quite proficient with spelling and grammar. In fact, he's been helping correct your submitted Potions essays for months now. You might find he has a better than average grasp, therefore, of the things that influence your marks."
Snape swept his dark gaze around the common room. "Of course it goes without saying that any offence against him will be considered an offence against me..." His black eyes began to glitter. "And I do not take kindly to offence, as I am sure you are aware."
A hush descended over the room as Snape stopped speaking. More and more gazes began to study Harry, some of them as contemptuous as before. Others, though, seemed to be assessing him in a new light, Nott included.
Erik Vanvelzeer was the first to speak, his voice tight with barely-leashed hostility. "Did you let him hear the passwords to get in, sir?"
"He's in Slytherin," Snape calmly countered, stepping away from Harry finally. "He has as much right to the passwords as you do. More, perhaps, if you consider that I set them. I'm hardly going to bar my own son from his House."
The Potions Master swung his gaze about the room. "Have any of the rest of you questions? No? Well, my door is open to you, as always. Now, I know you have spent the day carousing in Hogsmeade, but I still thought it would be apropos to have a little celebration this evening, to welcome Harry into Slytherin. And so..."
Snape waved his wand in some rather dramatic arcs, back and forth over a large, round table, his lips muttering spells.
When he stopped moving, a large cauldron sat in the centre of the table. It was filled with jagged shards of ice and bottles of butterbeer. Around the cauldron there were various platters of food.
Harry thought it would be a wasted effort considering the scene they'd walked into, but as it turned out, Snape did know his Slytherins. They descended on the food and drink at once, and in the general hubbub that ensued, Harry lost sight of his father. He wasn't nervous, though. He had no doubt that Snape was keeping track of him.
Thinking it would be best if he made himself at home--though really, he could hardly have felt less at ease--Harry made his way through the students thronging the table and grabbed a butterbeer for himself, along with something that resembled a chocolate Èclair but with a lot more filling than usual. His foot was stepped on twice as he retreated through the crowd. The first time caught him off guard--and had been tentative enough that it could have been an accident, he supposed. But the second time was definite, and hard enough to make him wince. Well, Harry hardly wanted to start a brawl, but he also thought Snape wouldn't want him just taking treatment like that, so he gave as good as he got.
Turned out to be good advice for Slytherins as well as brothers; nobody tried to smash his foot again.
He was half-way through the gooey Èclair when a tugging sensation caught his attention. He looked down to see a red-haired girl--a first-year, unless he missed his guess--pulling on his robes to get his attention. Relieved that somebody wanted to talk to him, Harry smiled at her. He'd been a bit worried that he'd pass the whole party as an outcast, which would really disappoint Snape, whose clearly wanted Harry interacting with his new House.
The girl looked left and right before she asked in a low voice, "Can you really talk to snakes?"
Right, that would all be rumour to her. Or maybe more like ancient history. "Sure," Harry answered, a little surprised when he heard how easily his answer came. Once, he'd found the talent dark and shameful, something to be hidden away whenever possible. Incanting all his spells in Parseltongue, though, had got him over that. "Do you like snakes?"
The girl nodded, her blue eyes big and solemn. "I'm Larissa."
Harry held out his hand. "Pleased to meet you, Larissa." He drew out Sals with his other hand and held her out. "This is Sals."
"Oooh, pretty," crooned Larissa. "You take her with you everywhere?"
"No, but she's afraid my owl will eat her so I take her with me most places." Harry laughed. "I've finally got a box fixed up so she should feel safe in there, but she's still a little nervous of Hedwig."
Larissa called a friend of hers over, and before Harry knew it, he was surrounded by a group of babbling first-years who wanted to know how to say their names in Parseltongue, of all things. They laughed at each other's terrible efforts to mimic Harry's hissing noises.
At one point, Harry caught Snape's sardonic gaze on him and understood the silent message in his father's eyes. Even after getting to know Draco and Snape, Harry had still thought that all Slytherins were somehow sinister at heart. Well, all other Slytherins. But these first-years were just children, full of energy and curiosity.
Innocents.
It made him realise how right Draco had been when he'd said that some of the Slytherins were worth saving.
"Come on over here, Potter," said Nott, appearing from nowhere at Harry's side. "We want to ask you something."
"But he was going to let me hold the snake!" complained Larissa, pouting.
"I'll let you next time," Harry promised, a little disturbed by the way Nott was glaring at the girl. She was just eleven or twelve, and acting her age.
Larissa looked set to argue, but when Harry nodded to underline his promise she said all right and bounded off towards the round table where she began gathering mounds and mounts of sweets into her hands.
Nott walked Harry over to where a contingent of older students was assembled. Fifth-years and up, he guessed.
"We can't help but notice that the Weasley girl is still playing Seeker for Gryffindor," began Zabini in a hard voice. "And since our own reserve Seeker isn't working out... You want to fit in here, Potter, you can start by showing us this is your House. Play for Slytherin."
"I'm not playing Quidditch at all," Harry said, shaking his head.
"You think your father approves of that attitude?" sneered Millicent Bulstrode. "You don't think he'd like to see you help Slytherin win?"