A Thousand Splendid Suns

Your Father's Son

Harry walks with Salazar by his side into the Great Hall. Harry is wearing hand me down robes and is borrowing some of Slazar's supplies for school until salazar can take him shopping, which will be soon.

Salazar has one hand placed against Harry's back, a featherlight touch, and they stand at attention at the front of the room, together. Harry looks grateful for his presence, which is weird. Salazar is not used to people staring at him... like that. Like he has hung the sun with his hands, capable of creation like the gods and just as deserving of worship.

Salazar could get used to the feeling, he thinks.

The Headmaster stands from his seat and claps his hands twice. The Great Hall quiets, everyone paying rapt attention. "Hello, students of Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft," he says. Harry is pointedly not looking at him while he speaks, instead facing the crowd, and Salazar again wonders why Harry has such a strong aversion to someone he's never met.

"Due to recent controversy surrounding his appearance, I have made the decision to address the rumours: Yes, Harry Evans fell from the sky and landed on a rock in the Forest. No, you all are not permitted to go out and find said rock and gawk at it. Yes, he is a seventh year, and yes, he will be joining our student body effective immediately. You all are to show him the utmost respect. Please, do not push him, prod him, or otherwise attempt to invade his privacy. That is all. Thank you." And then he sat, to a small applause.

Mostly, the people are curious, if otherwise uninterested. This new boy, joining in the middle of term, found having randomly fell from the sky, a Slytherin... what to make of him?

Salaar watches as Harry takes his seat at the lunch table closest to the staff table, for which Salazar is grateful, because it allows all of Harry's conversations to be entirely within earshot.

He sits carelessly, and without asking the people around him if he can join them.

In Slytherin, he has just made a rookie mistake.

"Excuse you," says one of the girls; she is a seventh year, and a relative of what is the Malfoy bloodline. "I'd watch where I was sitting if I were you, Evans." She says the word "Evans" like the word "mudblood" -- like he is already inherently beneath her.

Harry begins to load his plate, not responding. Salazar supposes he could've rectified the situation, if he had spoken then, but by choosing silence, he has damned himself.

The Malfoy girl continues on. "Tell me, are you a Peverell? You have some striking similarities." Harry says nothing, and the girl glowers. "Do me the dignity of responding, will you?"

"As a rule, I do not show dignity to blood purests," says Harry, sharply, "as one does not negotiate with terrorists."

"That's strange, really, considering the rumour is that you've been spending time with Salazar Slytherin."

A true Slytherin would deny such accusations in a manner that leaves room for suggestion... but Harry is anything but. He wears his heart on his sleeve, and so is open to this complete stranger. Salazar holds back a wince -- like bees to honey, like vultures to the dead, Salazar's Slytherins will zero in on this weakness. "Salazar is different," says Harry, absently, nibbling on his food. "He doesn't count."

"On a first name basis, are you, Evans?" Malfoy sneers.

"Something like that," Harry mutters.

(Salazar's heart swells -- aSalazar will admit this no one.)

"Are you a pureblood, then?" she asks. "Because Salazar would only associate with Purebloods."

Oh dear. Now Salazar's reputation is being questioned -- it's one thing to be a mudblood; it is another thing entirely to be a blood traitor.

But Harry gives the exact right answer, the Slytherin answer: "I am not," he says. Something gleams in his eyes. "Though Salazar doesn't know that."

Pleased. Salazar is immensely pleased. Not only has he made it so Salazar has not been to be looked down upon, he's also knocked out some of Salazar's theories about his heritage. Harry is not a Pureblood, and so he is inherently lesser than, much like Miss Malfoy believes, but Salazar is content to have his fun with the boy anyway. Dirty blood or clean, the boy is a mystery Salazar intends to unravel.

"You're obscene," spits the girl. She stands from her chair. "I don't know how this happened -- but I will not stand for it."

"You literally just stood up," says Harry, and Salazar holds back a surprised laugh

She scowls. "You taint the name of Slytherin. You don't deserve to be in this House."

"I promise you, I could not agree more."

She turns on her heels and before she walks out, she says, lowly, "You will regret coming here."
From the look on Harry's face, Salazar believes Harry already does. But it is a good sign that it is the girl who left and Harry who stood his ground; her retreat was a surrender, even if she meant it to be a "I can't stand to be in your presence" type thing.

Harry is doing well already. He is saying all the right things. He might be making enemies with all the wrong people... but some things can't be helped.

"Now," says Harry, bringing Salazar back to reality, away from his thoughts. Harry is addressing some of the other students now, who were all watching in no small amount of curiosity and some degree of awe. "Tell me, who is this Peverell?"

Interesting. Harry has an interest in the boy he's likely related to -- and that interest shows that Harry did not know about him before all of this. Which makes it all the more likely he was Muggle-raised, away from the Pureblood world.

Salazar decides he will ask him, ask after his situation. He might take it just as insultingly as he did Malfoy's reproach, but some things, Salazar thinks, can't be helped.

Salazar wants to unravel this boy. Salazar wants to eat him alive..