Chapter - 36 : The Serpent's Nest

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I very rarely got hot food unless it was smuggled from the Dursleys' meals. Yet here was a steaming pile of it, so much that the table was groaning under the weight of it all.

"You can eat it, you know. You don't have to just look," Lily murmured, nudging my side gently. I jerked out of my awed scanning of the different dishes and looked around. Up and down the table, people were loading their plates with food. I noticed that most of them had impeccable table manners. Most of them, Crabbe and Goyle being the most glaring exceptions. They ate like Dudley. It was clear that when it came to Slytherin house, breeding carried some weight.

I began spooning portions of foot onto my plate, keeping my back as straight as I could. I tried to make it look effortless, but I'm not sure how well I pulled it off. I wanted nothing more than to grab some of everything like I could see Harry doing over at the Gryffindor table, but I figured that stuffing my face wouldn't make the best first impression. I noticed that Harry was happily chatting with Ron and Percy.

I scowled at my plate, a pang of loneliness hitting my stomach.

"You know, you're the first Potter to ever be in Slytherin."

I looked up. Pansy Parkinson was the one who'd spoken. She stared at me, interest lighting her pug face. Beside her, the hulking Millicent Bulstrode was trying to look stony, but she was clearly interested as well. Even Tracey Davis and Daphne Greengrass were looking at me in interest.

I didn't know quite how to respond to that, so I just said, "Interesting," and took a bite of my mashed potatoes. I could have moaned aloud, but I didn't want to make a fool of myself.

Parkinson leaned forwards, clearly wanting to interrogate me more. "Why do you think that is?"

I stared at her. "I suppose it's because we have a tendency towards being Gryffindors," I said pointedly.

Now, I didn't know for sure about anyone in my family's house except for my father, but I figured it was probably a safe bet, considering Harry had gone to the same house. He had to have gotten that Gryffindor bravery from dad, and dad had to get it from somewhere too.

Tracey Davis snorted into her peas and Daphne Greengrass smirked behind her goblet. Parkinson's face went red and she withdrew, sniffing, "I was just trying to make conversation."

"Then you should perhaps ask more interesting questions," Lily suggested innocently.

Parkinson snapped, "No one asked you, halfblood. You should watch how you speak to someone with a pedigree like mine."

Lily stiffened, dipping her head down to stare at her plate. She absently rolled a few grapes across her plate with her fork. I blinked. I was gathering that there was some very clear enmity between 'halfbloods' and whatever Parkinson was.

"Your father's a halfblood?" I asked Lily. On the surface, it seemed like I was asking for confirmation of what Parkinson had said. Really, I was hoping for an explanation of what, exactly, a halfblood was.

"My grandmother was a Muggleborn," Lily said softly, like it was something deeply shameful.

I nodded in understanding. So going by what Parkinson had said, she thought she was better because she came from a long line of wizards. Lily, in contrast, had Muggle blood in her family.

Wonderful, I'd joined a house of racists.

Still, Lily was looking quite depressed, and she had shut Parkinson up for me a moment ago, which led to this lovely discussion of parentage. That meant if she hadn't defended me she wouldn't be going through this now. Which, in turn, meant that I owed her.

"I'm a halfblood too," I commented absently, spearing a carrot on my fork and popping it in my mouth. I chewed casually and continued, "My mother was Muggleborn, but from what I hear, she was an exceptional witch regardless."

Parkinson flinched. She was neatly trapped. Considering how quickly she'd started questioning me, I imagined she was like Malfoy and just wanted to be friends with 'one of the Potter twins.' Now she had a choice. She could either agree with me to keep a chance at being my friend, and therefore have to submit that there were exceptions, or she could keep her stance and offend me, possibly stomping on her chances of having a famous friend.

Now came the question of what would win out? Her beliefs or her desire for whatever limelight she could get. She'd have to pick one.

Or, she could stay silent, which was the wisest option, and which she picked.

We all ate quietly for a while. I was steadily working my way through my vegetables and was half-way done with my chicken, which was seasoned almost to perfection. I might have added just a little bit of lime juice, I pondered thoughtfully, to offset the amount of pepper a bit. I wasn't terribly fond of pepper.

"Can we see your scar?" Tracey blurted suddenly. Bulstrode sneered at her sudden outburst and Parkinson rolled her eyes. Tracey flushed a bit and looked shame-faced.

"Smooth, Davis," Daphne scoffed.

"Sorry," Tracey apologized. "Just-" She huffed. "Oh, you know you were all wondering!"

"Keep wondering," I said coldly, running a hand through the chunk of hair covering the left half of my face to make sure it was still in place. "I keep it covered for a reason."

"Is it true though?" Bulstrode rumbled. "Does it really look like an S?"

I scowled, but I could see that they wouldn't be distracted from this topic quite as easily. Even Lily was looking in interest at my left cheek. And considering she was the closest to it, I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"Yes, it does," I confirmed, hoping that would put them off. But instead it just seemed to heighten their curiosity.

"Is it true that You-Know-Who carved it into your cheek with a rusty knife?" Tracey asked eagerly.

"I heard a dagger," Daphne blinked.

"It was his wand, obviously," Parkinson scoffed.

"I wouldn't know," I said shortly. "I was only a baby at the time."

"Do you remember anything?" Parkinson pressed. Fascination wasn't a good look for her. It screwed up her pug-like face even more.

"Yes, do tell us, Potter."

I stared down the table. Malfoy was leaning past Zambini to look at me, grey eyes glittering.

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