CH52: I didn’t expect you to go to Slytherin

Harry took a deep breath and suddenly realized that the Slytherin in front of him was somewhat different from the Slytherin he and Uncle Felix had imagined.

Then, for some unknown reason, a smile spread across his face and he confidently strode forward.

"That's interesting, isn't it?" he mused to himself.

The common room was a long, narrow basement with walls and ceilings hewn from rough stone. Round, glowing green lights hung from the ceiling by chains, casting an eerie glow.

Beneath the beautifully carved mantelpiece, a fire crackled and flickered. Many objects scattered around the room appeared exquisite and valuable.

Within, there seemed to be a heated discussion underway:

"I wager he won't last past May."

"Don't be so sure. He used to teach Muggle Studies. Those who teach that subject tend to be quite resilient. My bet is he won't make it past March."

"I'm with you on March. Saw him at the Leaky Cauldron, stuttering like a first-year."

"Then let's make it interesting. Ten galleons and says he's gone before March."

"I'll take eight."

...

As Harry entered, he felt the weight of eyes upon him. The hushed conversation from before had died down considerably.

"Harry, what's the matter?" Rayden Hewitt approached, draping an arm around Harry's shoulder to display their camaraderie.

"What were you all discussing?" Harry inquired, genuinely curious.

"We were discussing Quirrell," Raiden explained. "No Defense Against the Dark Arts professor at Hogwarts has managed to last more than a year. It's said that a former applicant, embittered by rejection, cursed the position."

"Interesting. Thank you for letting me know," Harry nodded, expressing his gratitude, then added, "Sorry, I need to go to the dormitory."

"Of course, I'll accompany you," Raiden offered.

Reluctantly, Harry followed him to the dormitory, where he found himself sharing quarters with the Draco trio.

Oh well, can't have it all...

In the common room, eyes followed as Raiden and Harry ascended, and conversations resumed, though the topic had shifted.

"Should we make an effort to befriend him? Being close to the famous Harry Potter, the last of the Potter lineage, could be advantageous. The prefect is already reaching out to him."

"Prefect isn't anything," someone scoffed. "If he didn't lack connections and didn't toe the line, would Snape have made him a prefect? He's just trying to ride on his fame, don't bother."

"True, Potter's got the fame, but let's not forget, there are those here who hold grudges against him."

"What are they planning?"

"How should I know? All I know is, if it weren't for Potter, some of our classmates' parents wouldn't be rotting in Azkaban."

"Let's wait and see. Heard he had a spat with the Malfoy family on the train. It might be wiser to wait until that's sorted. Some folks might not be able to restrain themselves."

"They're probably thrilled Potter landed in Slytherin. If he'd ended up in Gryffindor, they'd have no shot at revenge. Those Gryffindors would die for him."

"I said, can we not bring them up?!"

...

The next morning, Harry rose early, donned casual attire, and ventured out into the castle grounds for a run.

After a brisk jog, he spotted a figure strolling across the Hogwarts lawn, the breeze tousling his hair.

Coming face to face, Harry halted and waved. "Felix."

Felix nodded. "Just call me Peregrine while I'm here at school. Or Captain, if you prefer."

Harry paused, then straightened up, grinning. "Captain, my Captain!"

"You cheeky brat," Felix chuckled. "How was your first night at Hogwarts?"

"Not bad, though Slytherin is different from what I expected," Harry admitted.

"Different how?" Felix inquired.

"Not necessarily in a bad way," Harry clarified. "I think I can handle it. But I didn't anticipate sharing a dormitory with Draco, from the Malfoy family."

"No conflicts last night?" Felix probed, noticing Harry's reluctance to elaborate.

"None last night. They tried to hassle me on the Hogwarts Express yesterday, but I managed to fend them off," Harry recounted.

Felix nodded in approval. "Starting today, you'll have an additional assignment."

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Felix's sleeve rolled up, revealing a wand in his hand.

"As a precaution, I suggest concealing this miniature wand in your undergarment sleeve for easy access. It's a handy trick in magical duels," Felix advised.

Following Felix's guidance, Harry attempted to stash the wand, only to find it slipping out of his loose sleeve and tumbling into the grass.

"Any skill require training to be mastered," Felix remarked. "Do you know why wizards favor robes?"

Harry shook his head, intrigued.

"Robes provide ample concealment for potions and spellcasting materials," Felix explained. "The idea is to keep your arsenal hidden, to always appear less formidable than you truly are. It's about creating opportunities."

With a deft motion, Felix sent a fallen branch flying towards him, then transformed it into a wand with a touch of his palm.

Handing the fake wand to Harry, Felix advised, "From now on, keep this fake wand handy, but discreet."

"Understood," Harry affirmed.

As they strolled back into the castle, they encountered Professor Quirrell in a corridor.

"Oh! M-m-mister P-Potter," Quirrell stuttered, noticing them. "I... I'm so pleased to see you!"

"Hello, Professor Quirrell," Harry replied, feeling slightly awkward.

"I... I never imagined you'd... end up in Slytherin!" Quirrell exclaimed, surprised.

"I find Slytherin's principles admirable," Harry replied diplomatically, mentally adding, "In theory!"

Recalling the welcome letter he received the previous night, Harry couldn't help but note the subtle attempts to portray Slytherin House as inclusive, despite its notorious reputation. The mention of Merlin's association with Slytherin seemed particularly deceptive, given the vast historical disparity.

"Oh, y-yes, indeed!" Quirrell seemed satisfied with Harry's response. With a final nod, he excused himself, muttering about reacquainting himself with the castle.

After addressing Harry, Professor Quirrell turned his attention to Felix. "Mr. Peregrine, what has captured your interest?"

Felix withdrew his gaze from the scarf adorning Quirrell's head, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness. "Apologies, I was simply intrigued. Your scarf is quite remarkable."

In Felix's estimation, the scarf appeared unnaturally pristine—not merely physically clean, but devoid of any scent save for a faint hint of garlic.

It was as though a single vibrant hue had been digitally imposed upon a black and white picture.

Unnatural. Unexpected. Peculiar.

"Yes, indeed," Quirrell responded, his tone somewhat cryptic. "This... this was a gift from an African prince." With a nod to both of them, he added, "I bid you farewell for now. It has been some time since my last visit. I must reacquaint myself... with the castle."

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