James Potter In Slytherin

3

James Potter sat at the Slytherin table, surrounded by unfamiliar faces. The green and silver banners hung above him, casting an eerie glow on the polished wooden surface. The Sorting Hat's decision still echoed in his mind-Slytherin. The word carried weight, a legacy of cunning, ambition, and secrecy.

Sirius Black, his best friend since childhood, had yet to speak to him. His anger radiated across the Great Hall, and James felt it like a physical force. Remus Lupin, the quiet and thoughtful one, sat beside Sirius, his expression a mix of confusion and disappointment. James wondered how he would explain this to them.

The other Slytherins eyed him with curiosity. Some whispered among themselves, while others simply stared. James had expected hostility, but instead, they made space for him. It was as if they knew something he didn't-a secret shared only among those who wore the serpent emblem.

As the feast began, James picked at his food, his appetite nonexistent. The enchanted ceiling displayed a starry night, and the room buzzed with conversation. Dumbledore, standing at his golden owl podium, cleared his throat, capturing everyone's attention.

"Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts!" Dumbledore's voice resonated through the hall. "Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words." He paused, twinkling eyes surveying the sea of students. "And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber!"

The food appeared, a feast fit for kings. Roast chicken, buttered potatoes, and pumpkin pasties materialized in front of James. But he couldn't focus on the spread. Instead, he wondered about the hidden layers of Slytherin House-the secrets that lay beneath the surface.

Across the table, a sixth-year girl named Cassandra leaned toward him. Her eyes were sharp, assessing. "You're James Potter," she said, her voice low. "The one who defied the Sorting Hat."

James nodded, unsure of what to expect. "Yes, that's me."

Cassandra smirked. "Bold move. Most Gryffindors would have fought tooth and nail to avoid Slytherin."

"Why?" James asked. "What's wrong with Slytherin?"

Her laughter was melodic, almost hypnotic. "Nothing's wrong, but we're not like the other houses. We value ambition, resourcefulness, and loyalty to our own. You'll learn soon enough."

James glanced at the head table. Dumbledore was still speaking, but his words blurred. He wondered about the common room hidden beneath the dungeons, the secret passages, and the whispered alliances. What did it mean to be a Slytherin?

Sirius caught his eye from across the room. His expression softened, just a fraction. James knew he'd have to explain himself, but how could he articulate the pull he'd felt when the Sorting Hat touched his head? How it had whispered secrets-of power, of hidden knowledge-only he could hear.

Remus, ever the scholar, would want answers too. James resolved to discover the truth behind Slytherin House. Perhaps there was more to it than ambition and cunning. Maybe it held the key to defeating the darkness that loomed over Hogwarts.

As the feast continued, James vowed to unravel the enigma of Slytherin. He would navigate its corridors, decode its symbols, and find his place among the serpents. For in this house of secrets, James Potter would uncover truths that would change everything.

And so, as the enchanted ceiling shimmered above him, he took his first bite of Slytherin fare, wondering what mysteries awaited him in the shadows.

Fin~