Harry Potter, a Slytherin? Preposterous!

Chapter 2 - Welcome to Slytherin

The hall went silent. 

Harry removed the hat from his head and stared at the shocked faces. Even the stern witch who'd been calling names hadn't been completely successful in hiding her shock. 

After what felt like an eternity, but what was likely only a few seconds, noise returned to the hall. Many were whispering to the person nearest to them, the Slytherins applauded politely, and the Gryffindors yelled their confusion and protests. He was suddenly very glad he'd missed out on Gryffindor, they seemed to be an unruly and hot headed lot.

His head had been turned, and so he'd missed the expression of one of the professors at the head table. A man dressed in all black robes, with shoulder length black hair, pale skin, and a long nose had widened his eyes in shock and horror when the hat had called his house's name when sorting Potter. The shock quickly morphed into smugness and glee when one thought crossed his mind; James Potter - Harry's father - was positively turning in his grave at the knowledge his son had just been sorted into the house of the 'slimy snakes', as the man had called it in their youth.

Harry walked to the Slytherin table, sliding into an empty seat with his fellow year mates, successfully avoiding sitting next to the blond from the train and his goons. He didn't speak to any of his year mates as the sorting continued, sorting the last few students, ending in Blaise Zabini who joined them in Slytherin. 

The Slytherin students were ones who'd been raised to maintain composure at all times. Those who weren't, caught on very soon. It was at the current moment, however, that many fought to keep their masks of polite indifference on their faces. Of all the new first years, they had not expected Harry Potter to be amongst the house of snakes' newest members. As such, they all stared a little more than necessary at the boy with the unruly dark hair, bright green eyes, and famous lightning-bolt scar that poked through every once in a while as his hair moved.

The current dilemma each Slytherin currently found themselves in was one that questioned how to treat Potter. He wasn't a pureblood, sure, but he wasn't a muggleborn either. He was a half-blood, and they usually treated half-bloods with some form of indifference. But this wasn't any half-blood, this was Harry bloody Potter, savior of the wizarding world, vanquisher of the dark lord Voldemort, beacon of the light and hope. While many students in the house of snakes came from families which held darker affinities, families which would once again treat Potter (poster boy for the light-affinity witches and wizards) with indifference, they couldn't ignore the boy's name.

Harry Potter was an influential name, which meant that he was a somebody amongst all circles without even trying yet.

A general consensus was beginning to form amongst the upper years: so long as Potter has not explicitly stated his alliance to all things light, they would welcome him as they would any other Pureblood, and treat him with the same grace. 

The boy on everyone's mind turned to his fellow year mates who were sharing introductions now that the sorting had finished and the feast had officially begun. 

"You lied." The blond, Draco Malfoy, if Harry recalled correctly, spoke from diagonally across from him.

He raised a shoulder in a half shrug. "You barged into my compartment without knocking. How was I supposed to know you weren't going to accost me like everyone else does when they find out my name?"

"I was going to do no such thing!" he sputtered, enraged at the notion. 

Harry raised an eyebrow. "You looked through the entire train to find me. You sound like a die-hard fan to me." He briefly acknowledged the snickers from some upper years who'd been listening to the exchange, and the pursed lips of others who were trying not to laugh.