The Serpent and the Lion [L.S]

Chapter 4

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The Great Hall was far larger than his mother described.

Bigger, louder, and even more beautiful than anything Harry had ever seen before.

Harry shifted. The uncomfortable weight of his brand-new robes were still unfamiliar to him. They were also incredibly itchy, which was rubbish, in Harry's opinion. He doesn't want to wear itchy robes for the next seven years.

He glanced around apprehensively. In the thirty seconds in which they stood in this clump of babbling first-years, it seemed like everyone around him has already made a friend, talking a mile a minute, leaving Harry to bite his nails.

Remembering all the times his father called him out on his disgusting habit, he removed his hands from his mouth.

"Harry, if I catch your fingers in your mouth again, I will turn them into paws. Is this understood?"

Harry didn't need to be told again. He'd kicked the habit years ago, but today was so nerve-wracking, he couldn't help it.

It was a rapid-fire adjustment from the moment they rowed across the lake. Harry's mind struggled to keep up with so much newness, all the new people and sounds and smells. Everything in him was screaming to make friends, to make a new start, but he couldn't bring himself to move.

Instead, he began discreetly listening to the pair of boys to his left, chattering about which house they would belong to.

"My mum was a Ravenclaw, but my dad was a Slytherin. I think I've got good odds either way." The first boy said, his chest puffed out with pride. 

"I'm not sure what those are, but they both sound nice, I guess."

"I forgot, you're Muggle-born! This must all be so exciting for you!"

"It is," The second boy sighed deeply, nodding. He seemed more than a little overwhelmed. "Remind me again of the... of the houses?"

"There's Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw, and Hufflepuff."

"If I remember right, Slytherin sounds the most like...me."

Before he could think to remember his manners, Harry let out a snort. A loud one, that he immediately regretted. Two heads turned in his direction.

"Did you have something to say?" The first boy inquired, and Harry looked up to meet his face. He was a bit pudgy and had wide brown eyes, sort of like an eager puppy. He looked nice enough. They might've even been friends, if Harry hadn't opened his stupid mouth.

Harry swallowed. "It's just—Slytherin isn't a house meant for non-Purebloods."

"What does that mean?" The second boy asked his friend, finally turning enough for Harry to see his whole face.

This boy had... bright blue eyes. Straight caramel fringe that fell a bit over his face, eyelashes long enough to brush the top of his high cheekbones... Harry's eyes scanned further down, to the boy's incredibly wrinkled robes. Definitely Muggle-born.

The first boy rolled his eyes at Harry, full of contempt.

"It doesn't mean anything, Louis. Not a thing. All it really means is not everyone is accepting—" The first boy shot daggers from his eyes in Harry's direction— "Of everyone here."

"Oh," Louis nodded. Disappointment fell over his features like a dark cloud, and Harry's gut churned uneasily. "Why wouldn't everyone accept everyone here? We've all... We all have the same magic in us, don't we?"