Aiming High

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The revelation of the first day at Hogwarts still lingered in the minds of the Slytherin students, especially the notion of the 'Serpent of the Crown'—the true leader of Slytherin House. This prestigious title, a legacy of Salazar Slytherin himself, was shrouded in secrecy and reverence. Only discussed within the confines of the Slytherin common room, the title was bestowed by the room itself, recognizing a student who embodied the qualities of leadership, cunning, and ambition.

As Harry sat in the common room, surrounded by his housemates, he could sense their curiosity and, in some cases, their envy. He was already a step ahead in the unspoken race to become the next Serpent of the Crown. His lineage as the Heir of the Potter Family, his role in the downfall of Voldemort, and his evident prowess in Transfiguration had set him apart. The question on everyone's mind was whether he would continue to excel in his other classes, further cementing his position.

Draco Malfoy, leaning close to the fireplace, watched Harry with a calculating gaze. "Potter, your performance in Transfiguration was... impressive," he remarked, his tone a mix of respect and rivalry.

Harry turned to Draco, his expression calm. "Thank you, Malfoy. It's just the beginning, though. There's much more to learn," he replied, his voice even.

Harry was indeed as eager to get the title of 'Serpent of the Crown.' To become the true lord of Slytherin house was a goal that would significantly aid in his mission to expand his influence and discover the conditions of acquiring the heirship of Slytherin lineage. For this reason, he even started to reconsider something he had previously discarded: Quidditch. His status sheet revealed a great talent in Broom Riding, and his father had been a renowned Seeker in his time. Harry wanted the fame and recognition that came with being a Quidditch star to propel him even further. However, first-year students were typically not allowed to attend tryouts, and he needed to devise a plan to overcome this hurdle. "I don't want to waste a year," he thought to himself.

Harry's contemplative gaze shifted towards Blaise Zabini. "So, Zabini, your family is from Italy, right?" he inquired, his tone casual yet inquisitive.

Zabini nodded in response. "My mother is. My father is from a small African tribe," he answered, his voice tinged with pride.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Why did you choose Hogwarts? I mean no offense, of course. I'm just curious, as Europe has other magical schools on par with Hogwarts, right?"

Zabini seemed unbothered by the question. "No offense taken, Potter. I've heard a lot about Hogwarts since I was small and always wanted to come here. The school's reputation and the diverse range of magical education it offers were too compelling to ignore."

Harry hummed, his mind working swiftly. "It's fascinating how Hogwarts attracts students from such varied backgrounds," he remarked. "The diversity here is a strength, I believe."

Zabini agreed, "Indeed. It's one of Hogwarts' unique aspects."

Harry turned to others. "Do you know anything about the Quidditch team tryouts? I understand they're typically not open to first years, but I'm curious about the process."

Zabini raised an eyebrow, slightly surprised by the question. "Quidditch? I didn't peg you as the sporting type, Potter. But yes, first years rarely make the team. However, there have been exceptions. It's all about skill and a bit of luck."

Nott added, "First years are not allowed to own a broomstick. Making it to the team with the ancient brooms the school offers would be difficult." His words carried a hint of doubt, mirroring the skepticism shared by many in the room.

Harry hummed thoughtfully, considering the challenge. "That's true," he acknowledged. "But I believe skill can overcome the limitations of equipment. And besides, I'm quite keen to try my hand at Quidditch."

Draco, intrigued by Harry's determination, chimed in, "You're planning to try out for the Slytherin team, Potter? I must admit, I didn't expect that from you. If you need any pointers, let me know. My father's ensured I've had the best training since I was young."

Harry nodded appreciatively at Draco's offer. "Thanks, Malfoy. I might take you up on that. And who knows, maybe we can work together to strengthen the Slytherin team."

The conversation then shifted, with the group discussing the upcoming Quidditch season and the potential players for Slytherin. As they spoke, Nigel's voice resonated in Harry's mind, "Ah, Quidditch – the sport where one can truly soar above the rest. A fitting arena for a Slytherin such as yourself, Master Harry."

Harry nodded in agreement with Nigel's assessment. "Indeed, Nigel. It's an opportunity to prove myself in a different field and gain more recognition in Slytherin."

Harry, with a plan forming in his mind, decided it was time to speak with Professor Snape. He had a suspicion that Snape might try to probe his mind again, as he had attempted on the first day after the Sorting Ceremony. Additionally, there was an undercurrent of hostility from Snape that Harry couldn't quite understand. Resolute, he stood up from his seat in the common room. "Goodnight, gentlemen. I will see you tomorrow," he said, nodding to Draco, Nott, and Zabini before making his way to his room.

In the privacy of his room, Harry started to strategize. He was aware of Snape's capabilities in Legilimency, and he needed to be prepared. "Nigel, it's likely Snape will try to read my mind again." Harry spoke in his mind.

Nigel responded, "Indeed, Master Harry. Remember, your mental defenses must be as strong as your magical ones. But no one can probe your mind with the Technology System here."

Harry appreciated Nigel's support. He spent the rest of the evening reviewing his notes and preparing for the next day. As he lay in bed, his thoughts drifted to the current Serpent of the Crown, Selena. She was a figure of influence within Slytherin, and Harry knew that gaining her support could be crucial in his quest to secure a spot in the team. 'Thoughts for later,' he mused, closing his eyes and drifting into a restful sleep.

The next day, Harry walked into the Potion room with Daphne and Tracey, his strides confident yet measured. He spotted Neville and greeted him with a nod. Neville looked visibly nervous, his eyes darting around the dungeon classroom, a stark contrast to the warmth of the castle above. The chill of the dungeon, compounded by the eerie sight of pickled animals floating in glass jars along the walls, added a layer of discomfort.

As Professor Snape entered with his usual flourish, the room fell into a hushed anticipation. He began roll call in his distinct, sibilant voice. "Brown, Bulstrode, Finnigan..." Each name was called with a note of indifference until he reached, "Harry Potter." Snape looked up, his gaze locking with Harry's. At that precise moment, Nigel's voice echoed in Harry's mind.

[System Message: Legilimency probe detected. Countermeasures activated.]

Snape's eyes narrowed, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features at the failed probe. But he quickly masked it with his usual sneer, remarking dryly, "Our new celebrity."

After completing the roll call, Snape stood and began his introduction to the art of potion making. His voice, though soft, carried clearly throughout the dungeon. "You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potionmaking," he said. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."

His words hung in the air, laden with a mixture of disdain and challenge, leaving a palpable silence in their wake.

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