Slytherins & Escape

Every day of Harry's first week at Hogwarts felt like stepping into a new world, each one bringing fresh challenges and discoveries. His classes were as varied as the castle's hidden secrets, each with its own charm or frustration. Charms quickly became one of his favorites, thanks to the energetic and encouraging Professor Flitwick. The tiny professor's enthusiasm was contagious, and his focus on practical spellwork gave Harry a chance to immerse himself in magic, even earning occasional praise for his efforts.

Herbology, taught amidst rows of peculiar plants, was another intriguing experience. Yet, Harry's memories of pulling weeds under the Dursleys' watchful eyes dulled his initial excitement. It was hard to shake the association between dirt-streaked hands and Aunt Petunia's shrill commands. Still, the magical properties of the plants fascinated him, and he found himself paying closer attention than he expected.

Defense Against the Dark Arts, on the other hand, was a letdown. Professor Quirrell's constant stammering and nervous glances left the class restless and uninspired. Harry doubted he'd learn anything useful under Quirrell's tutelage. He resolved to practice spells on his own—perhaps Daphne would join him in their efforts to make up for the lackluster lessons.

Then there were the theoretical subjects. Astronomy had its moments of wonder, especially during the quiet nights spent gazing at the stars. But History of Magic was a complete disaster. Professor Binns, a ghost whose droning voice seemed to echo endlessly, made the past sound like a lifeless recitation of names and dates. Harry struggled to stay awake, frequently losing the battle as his quill slipped from his hand.

Harry's restless nights didn't help his focus in class. Although he had cast some of the protective spells Daphne found in the library, his magical skills weren't strong enough to make them effective. Every creak of the floorboards or murmur in the corridors set him on edge, and he often lay awake, anticipating another "prank" from his Slytherin roommates. So far, nothing as dramatic as the first night had occurred, but smaller acts of malice kept him constantly on guard. Ink had been spilled over his homework, pages were torn from his books, and an essay he had worked hard on was tossed into the common room's fireplace by Malfoy.

The resulting confrontations left Harry battered and bruised, as the numbers were always against him. Crabbe and Goyle, ever Malfoy's loyal henchmen, were quick to ensure Harry couldn't retaliate effectively. Meanwhile, the other Slytherins treated him with disdain or indifference, offering no support. Only Daphne remained at his side, though she too had her share of struggles. The isolation drove them to spend most of their time together, practicing spells in abandoned classrooms or seeking refuge in the library.

The library, however, came with its own challenges. Madam Pince, the strict librarian, had reprimanded them harshly after they accidentally wandered too close to the Restricted Section. Her sharp words and threats of detention left Harry wary of venturing too far from the general stacks. Hermione Granger, who seemed to live in the library, often shot disapproving looks at the two of them as if their presence disrupted her sacred study sanctuary. Harry couldn't help but find her looks grating.

Outside of classes, the whispers and stares followed Harry everywhere. His placement in Slytherin had caused a stir throughout the school, and he overheard snippets of conversations that hinted at the controversy. Even some of the Gryffindors avoided him, seemingly unsure of how to reconcile the Harry Potter of legend with the boy seated at the Slytherin table.

In Slytherin itself, Malfoy's influence loomed large. His control over their classmates created an unspoken rule: associating with Harry was social suicide. Blaise Zabini, who had initially shown some friendliness, now officially kept his distance. Harry's growing frustration with the house dynamics only deepened his sense of isolation.

Despite her aloof nature, Daphne's companionship became Harry's lifeline. Her reserved demeanor intrigued him, and her determination to master every spell they encountered inspired him to push himself harder. She was a mystery he couldn't quite unravel, her calm exterior concealing emotions he rarely glimpsed. Though their conversations were often sparse and icy, Harry found comfort in her presence. At least with her, he wasn't completely alone.

By the end of the week, Harry's routine had settled into a semblance of normalcy. On Friday morning, as he sat beside Daphne at the Slytherin table, a letter landed on his plate with a soft thud. Startled, he looked up to see Hedwig circling above, her snowy feathers catching the light. Offering her a piece of bacon, Harry unfolded the note with growing curiosity.

Dear Harry,I know you don't have classes this afternoon. Would you like to come see me at 3 pm and have a cup of tea? You can tell me about your first week! Feel free to bring Daphne or other friends if you like.

Hagrid

PS: Just send your answer back with Hedwig.

Harry showed the letter to Daphne, who glanced at it briefly before giving a small nod of assent. He quickly scribbled a reply and sent Hedwig off with another slice of bacon as thanks.

Later, the morning's Potions lesson soured Harry's mood. Snape, the Potions master, seemed to take delight in singling him out for criticism. From the moment Harry entered the dimly lit dungeon, Snape's cold gaze followed him, peppering him with questions about obscure potion ingredients. When Harry failed to answer, Snape's aggressive remarks drew laughter from the other Slytherins. Even Daphne's subtle gestures to guide him through their boil-cure potion couldn't lift his spirits.

The tension in the room boiled over, literally, when Neville Longbottom's cauldron exploded, filling the dungeon with a foul-smelling green mist. Covered in boils from the mishap, Neville groaned in pain as Snape berated him mercilessly.

"Weasley, take him to the hospital wing," Snape ordered with a sneer. "And five points from Gryffindor for your incompetence."

Harry clenched his fists, anger simmering as he watched Ron guide a groaning Neville out of the dungeon under the jeers of the Slytherins. Snape's favoritism for his house and his harsh treatment of others only solidified Harry's dislike for the man.

By the time Harry and Daphne arrived at Hagrid's hut that afternoon, the sunny weather and the sight of the cheerful groundskeeper lifted Harry's spirits. The hut, nestled on the edge of the Forbidden Forest, exuded warmth and comfort. Fang, Hagrid's massive boarhound, greeted them enthusiastically, nearly knocking Daphne over in his excitement. To Harry's surprise, Daphne's laughter filled the room as she ruffled the dog's fur, a sound so rare that Harry couldn't help but grin.

Over tea and rock-hard biscuits, Hagrid listened intently as Harry recounted his first week. Daphne contributed occasionally, her measured tone contrasting with Harry's more animated storytelling. Hagrid's booming laughter at Harry's tales of Snape's antics and Neville's mishaps made the afternoon fly by.

When Hagrid broached the subject of their classmates, the mood shifted. Daphne's expression turned steely, and she answered with her usual composure, "Our experiences have been… challenging. But nothing we can't manage."

Hagrid's brows knitted together in concern, but he didn't press further. "Yeh're always welcome here, both of yeh," he said firmly, his kind eyes lingering on Daphne's guarded face.

The walk back to the castle was quiet, the afternoon sun casting long shadows over the grounds. Harry's thoughts lingered on Daphne's words. She'd spoken with such detachment, but Harry sensed a deeper pain beneath her calm exterior. Summoning his courage, he asked, "Daphne, why do our classmates treat you the way they do? You said it wasn't because of me. Then what is it?"

Daphne stopped abruptly, her icy blue eyes meeting his with an intensity that made him falter. After a moment's hesitation, she spoke in a voice colder than the breeze stirring her hair. "It's because of my parents. They were Death Eater sympathizers during the war. Not high-ranking ones, but they supported Voldemort financially and provided information. When he fell, they betrayed others to save themselves."

Harry listened, stunned into silence as she continued. "Malfoy's father was one of those they named. Though he escaped punishment, their testimony still branded my family as traitors. Both sides despise us—the Death Eaters' supporters for our betrayal, and everyone else for our past allegiance."

Her voice wavered, but she pressed on. "That's why they hate me. Not for who I am, but for who my parents were."

When she finished, her shoulders were tense, her gaze defiant. "I don't care if you hate me now, Harry," she added sharply. "I'm not my parents."

Harry shook his head. "I don't hate you, Daphne," he said sincerely. "I could never hate you."

She studied him for a long moment before nodding curtly. "Good."

With that, she turned and walked briskly toward the castle, leaving Harry to ponder her words. Despite the confession, he felt a newfound respect for her strength. Whatever her family's past, Daphne was determined to carve her own path, and Harry silently resolved to stand by her side.

The following weeks brought more challenges, but Harry and Daphne settled into a steady rhythm. Their friendship, though unconventional, became a source of solace in the isolating environment of Slytherin. Together, they faced the trials of their first year, finding strength in their shared determination to rise above the shadows of their pasts.

The school year progressed steadily, and Harry and Daphne fell back into the routines they had established during their first week. The conversation they'd shared after their visit to Hagrid—who they continued to visit regularly over the next few months—was never brought up again, as though it had been silently filed away.

Their first flying lesson with the Gryffindors marked a pivotal moment for Harry. He discovered an immediate passion for flying, and it turned out he was naturally skilled at it. For Daphne, flying was more a necessity than a pleasure. She viewed it pragmatically, recognizing its value but clearly disliking the experience. Harry, however, felt an exhilarating sense of freedom as he soared through the air, high above the castle grounds. It was as though he had discovered a missing part of himself, and he couldn't help but imagine how much more incredible it might feel to fly without a broom altogether.

The lesson, however, was not without incident. When Neville Longbottom fell off his broom and had to be taken to the hospital wing, Malfoy seized a small glass ball Neville had dropped. Weasley, furious, demanded it back, and the confrontation escalated. Ignoring Madam Hooch's strict prohibition, both boys took to the air, hurling insults as they chased each other across the sky. Harry had been on the verge of intervening, but Daphne's firm grip on his arm and subtle shake of her head stopped him.

The chaos ended abruptly when the glass ball fell to the ground and shattered. Professor McGonagall, who had been observing from a distance, promptly arrived to issue a stern rebuke. Both Weasley and Malfoy received detentions and heavy deductions from their respective house points. It was a dramatic moment that seemed to mark the beginning of a fierce and escalating feud between the two.

The rivalry between Weasley and Malfoy spilled into the broader dynamics between Gryffindor and Slytherin, deepening the hostility between the two houses. For Harry and Daphne, however, this tension came with an unexpected silver lining. The feud drew attention away from them, allowing them to fade somewhat into the background. Though they still endured snide comments and occasional pranks from their Slytherin peers, the intensity of the scrutiny lessened. As for the Gryffindors, they seemed even more distant than before, but Harry was used to being avoided by now and took it in stride.

Halloween brought its own upheaval when a troll reportedly entered the castle. Rumors swirled about the Gryffindor trio—Longbottom, Weasley, and Granger—who were said to have fought the creature. Details were scarce, and Harry couldn't be sure how much of the story was true, but the aftermath was undeniable. Both Longbottom and Granger spent days recovering in the hospital wing, a place Neville seemed to frequent with alarming regularity.

Amidst the chaos and challenges, Harry found a measure of satisfaction in his growing proficiency with magic. By the second Transfiguration lesson, he successfully turned a matchstick into a needle, earning rare praise from Professor McGonagall. His confidence grew as he began mastering spells in other classes, especially those with a practical focus. He knew he owed much of his progress to Daphne. Though her tone was often tinged with impatience, her explanations and guidance were invaluable. Every evening, they practiced spells together, not just those from class but also ones Daphne had unearthed in the library. Her ambition was undeniable, driving her to push the limits of her abilities.

While Hermione Granger buried herself in essays and assignments, Harry and Daphne spent their library time honing their spellwork. For Harry, the hands-on nature of magic was far more engaging than the endless stream of essays and theoretical exercises. As a result, their grades were decent, though not particularly exceptional, reflecting their preference for practice over paperwork.

Despite her reserved demeanor, Daphne became Harry's closest companion—his first real friend, apart from Hagrid. Yet, he often wondered if she felt the same. Though they spent nearly all their time together, there was a quiet distance in their interactions, a formality that set their relationship apart from the easy camaraderie he saw among other students. Still, he clung to their connection. Without Daphne, his days at Hogwarts would have been unbearably lonely.

Her rare smiles warmed Harry in ways he hadn't anticipated. Her ice-blue eyes held a depth that fascinated him, like windows to a world he longed to explore. She was a mystery, and Harry found himself drawn to her enigmatic presence.

As the weeks slipped by, Hogwarts settled into the rhythm of the school year. Before Harry knew it, Christmas was fast approaching. Many students were preparing to leave for the holidays, eager to reunite with their families. For Harry, the idea of staying behind at the castle didn't feel lonely—it felt like a welcome reprieve from the life he had left behind.

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