Heather was distracted from the Sorting Hat's opening song by the enchanted night sky on the ceiling of the Great Hall. As easy as breathing, she picked out Leo from the mass, tracing in her mind the stars that formed the constellation. That was the first constellation she had learned to identify once she picked her Astronomy textbook up. Next, she found Lyra, in which Vega shone brightly. Outshining even Vega, however, was Sirius, the Dog Star. Heather didn't actually know how she knew that. Perhaps, she'd read it somewhere.
"Avery, Stenton!" Professor McGonagall called out. Snapping out of her scrutiny of the ceiling, Heather looked back at the platform where the Sorting was taking place. "Slytherin!" Loud applause came from where the house was presumedly sitting.
Heather's attention wandered again. There was still quite some time before her turn. Drifting her gaze to the Head Table, she looked at all the Professors in turn. The elderly wizard sitting at the head was probably the Headmaster. He looked remarkably like what muggles believed all wizards to be. Pointy hat, check. Long white beard, check. Bright and sparkly robes, definitely check. Heather wondered whether he did that on purpose to amuse himself or if the beliefs actually stemmed from him.
The other Professors didn't really stand out much. They either looked anticipatory or bored. There was a witch in particular who wore a long, gauzy shawl and an excessive number of necklaces and bangles. Her dazed expression gave the impression that she was intoxicated on either alcohol or other substances. Another rather short wizard looked a bit odd. Heather couldn't exactly place what was different about him, but she thought that he might be part creature.
Finally, the only other Professor she recognised. Professor Snape, the Potions Professor. He looked even more menacing now that school was in session, a feat Heather wouldn't have previously thought possible. His age (for he appeared much younger than the other Professors) obviously did not detract from his authority over his students. As if sensing her gaze on him, he looked directly into her eyes.
Heather jerked slightly at being caught staring, but she gamely gave the Professor a tiny nod and smile in greeting. He raised a mocking brow, as if to say 'What are you gaping at, you dunce?'. She quickly turned back to the ceremony, ostensibly because her turn was soon to come. Really, though, it felt like the forbidding man had gone easy on her. Not even a mild glower. So why did she still feel like she had just made a narrow escape?
"Peters, Stephen!" Oh, that was the boy in front of her. "Ravenclaw!" Heather straightened her posture, bracing herself. This would be a horrid time to realise she had stage fright.
"Potter, Heather!" She tuned out the sudden onslaught of murmuring in the crowd. Focussing on Professor McGonagall's encouraging expression, Heather walked steadily towards the hat.
The worn and dirty pointy wizard's hat was placed on her head. She wondered how this would work. Was it enchanted to test her aura? Or maybe a few questions would be asked to determine her personality?
'Ahh, an inquisitive mind deserving of Ravenclaw!' a gravelly voice suddenly boomed in her mind. Heather fought to hide her flinch of surprise.
'You're going to read my mind?' Heather concluded questioningly. That was slightly worrying.
'Right-o, Miss Potter! Yes, you would fit in well with the eagles. But, what's this here? Plenty of bravery and courage as well - protecting your brother against all who might harm him. Gryffindor would be pleased to have you! Hufflepuff could also do well by you, with your diligence and loyalty.'
'Sooo, which house do I suit best?'
'Really, you could be in any of those three houses. The one best suited though? Oh ho, you'll do great things there. Great things! Better make it...'
"SLYTHERIN!" the Sorting Hat finally announced.
There was an awkward stunned silence as Heather made her way to the Slytherin table. When she sat down, however, the silence was broken and uncertain clapping echoed in the hall. The Gryffindors were staring at her with oddly wounded faces. She wanted to scoff at them; just because her parents were Gryffindors didn't mean she had to be too. Heather made to turn back to look at the rest of the Sortings.
And froze.
Professor Snape was focussed entirely on her, levelling the full force of his glare on her. His dark eyes, which had been teasingly derisive not ten minutes ago, now screamed murder and all sorts of torture. She'd be trembling violently if she wasn't petrified. An eternity later, he finally released her, turning away in disgust.
Woodenly, Heather watched as Fred and George were Sorted into Gryffindor. Inwardly, her thoughts were churning viciously. Where had this sudden hostility come from? He had known that there was a distinct possibility that she would be a snake. He obviously liked Slytherin a fair sight better than Gryffindor, so was it she herself that he took objection to? Heart clenching painfully, she forcefully pushed it to the back of her mind to ruminate over at a later date.
Absentmindedly, she stood with the rest of the school to hum along to the school song. She noticed that Fred and George were singing it at the top of their lungs. Backwards. The effect was horribly dissonant. Though to be fair, that wasn't caused solely by them - just exacerbated. Amused, she saw another redhead – probably one of their siblings – clamp their mouths shut.
Spirits lifted marginally, Heather waited for the feast to start. The Headmaster made a short opening speech followed by an odd series of closing words (Piccadilly. Zany. Hunker.) before food appeared out of nowhere.
Roast beef, filet mignon, mashed potatoes, broiled vegetables, baked chicken breast, fruit salad. Heather had never before seen so much food. There were numerous dishes that didn't even look remotely familiar. Everything looked scrumptious.
Much as she would like to taste all the rich foods that she had never been allowed, she knew her stomach wouldn't be able to handle them yet. (Stupid Dursleys.) Nevertheless, she eagerly helped herself to the chicken breast and vegetables.
All the other Slytherins seemed to know each other already. They were talking quietly among themselves and shooting her the occasional subtle glance. Heather ignored them all, content to catch up on eight years' worth of sustenance. Even though she and Hadrian had been sneaking food, bread and cold cuts did not wholesome meals make. She reminded herself to ask a house elf for some leftovers to send to her brother.
Meanwhile, she took a serving of pudding to finish off her meal.
~~~
The dungeons corridors were plunged in shadows. Sconces on the walls provided faint lighting, the flickering candles giving off an eerie glow. Heather shivered as she pulled her robes closer to her body. The temperature down here was dramatically lower than in upper parts of the castle.
The prefect leading them stopped in front of a random part of a wall. He muttered something too soft to hear and a section of the stone suddenly swung open.
Not just random then.
The newly revealed room was slightly warmer than the corridor due to the crackling fireplace. The windows showed a greenish plain view. Upon closer inspection, they actually appeared to be underwater. If she recalled accurately, part of the dungeons ran underneath the Black Lake.
When prompted to, Heather took a seat on one of the plush couches. Sitting next to her was a tall blonde witch who sat up so straight that Heather had to resist the urge to check for a back-brace.
The witch turned to Heather and inclined her head politely, offering a quiet, "Melinda Davies."
Heather returned to reserved introduction, silently wishing for something, anything, to break the tensed silence in the room. She really had to be careful of what she wished for.
"First years!" A dark figure abruptly swept in from a hidden entrance. Professor Snape's stern gaze landed on each student, hardening imperceptibly as they glazed over Heather. Or at least she thought so.
"Slytherin," he began silkily. "House of the cunning and ambitious. We are more intelligent than the Ravenclaws, more diligent than any Hufflepuff and more courageous than all the Gryffindors put together."
"Unfortunately, our noble house has a smirched reputation among everyone else. As such, Slytherin will present a united front. We will give the other houses no chinks in our armour to take advantage of."
"This means," he lowered his voice dangerously, "that you will not show dissent amongst yourselves where others can see you. You will support all housemates, no matter how disagreeable you find them," his contemptuous gaze flicking towards Heather for a split second. "You will settle all disputes in this common room or it will be in my office. Are we clear?" At the sharp nods, he turned to Heather again.
"Potter!" he spat the word like it was lethal poison. "Cease your moronic gaping. Repeat what I just said."
With as much sangfroid as she could muster under that unforgiving stare, she repeated his entire speech verbatim.
Professor Snape's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Insolence," he hissed, "You dare patronise me? It seems our newest celebrity deems it appropriate to give cheek to her superiors!"
"N-no sir! That wasn't my intention. My apologies, Professor Snape." Heather cursed her minor stutter.
The wizard's mouth curled into a cruel smile, enjoying Heather's slight weakness. He then turned his head dismissively, designed to convey that she was below his notice. Heather had definitely received that message.
She carefully paid attention as her new Head of House gave instructions regarding administrative details. She didn't put it past the man to single her out again. She wouldn't be wrong on that account.
~~~
When Heather first saw her room ("Snakes are solitary creatures," the Professor said shortly.) she paused at the doorway. The Professor had said a small room. This room...this room was more luxurious than anything she had ever had. There was a bed – an actual bed! – a small desk to write on, a functional wardrobe – and did she mention a bed? Granted, it was much tinier than either of Dudley's bedrooms, but certainly a step up from the Cupboard Under the Stairs. She was so shocked that she hadn't stepped into her – really hers! – new room.
"What is the matter, Princess Potter?" that cutting voice drawled. "Is this room offensive to your delicate sensibilities? I am afraid you will have to manage with these meagre resources."
Had she really believe Professor Snape to be scary back at Slug and Jiggers? That was him being affable! She quickly entered her room and locked the door, adding her usual locking spells and then some.
Heather shook her head roughly to dispel all thoughts of the Professor. She had more important things to take care of right now.
"House elf? I require some assistance please," she tentatively said aloud to the empty room.
Which was suddenly not-so-empty anymore.
A tiny creature with large bulging eyes and floppy ears appeared with a crack. "Can Mipsy be helping yous, Miss Potter?" The elf's eyes were shining eagerly, awaiting her orders.
"Were there any leftovers from the feast earlier? Could I possibly have a few portions if there are any?" Heather felt apprehensive about asking it of the obviously servile creature, but at least she seemed happy.
Mipsy nodded rapidly, saying in her squeaky voice, "Yes, yes! There be many foods not eaten! Miss Potter is too thin. Miss Potter should be eating more!" With a snap of her fingers, packs of food enough for at least four people appeared in her hands.
"Oh!" Heather exclaimed at the suddenness. "Thank you so much, Mipsy! Would it trouble you too much if I asked you to do this every night?"
The elf was tearing up now. Fearing that she had overstepped her bounds, Heather tried to take back her words, but Mipsy spoke first. "Kind and wonderful Mistress Potter! Mistress Potter needs not be thanking Mipsy. Mipsy be honoured to serve Mistress Potter!"
Heather smiled weakly at the naked adoration on Mipsy's face. "You don't have to call me mistress, just Heather will do."
To her horror, the house elf started to bang her head on the solid stone walls, exclaiming that it would be terribly rude to use Mistress Potter's first name.
"No, no! Stop hurting yourself, Mipsy!" Heather's hand fluttered uselessly about the distraught elf. Desperately, she said, "I'll be very happy if you called me by my first name. In fact, all the house elves here should."
Mipsy stopped immediately, keen to do anything that would make Heather happy. Looking shyly up at her, the little elf said, "Mistress Potter likes Miss Heather?" Heather nodded firmly. "Miss Heather wants all elves to call Miss Heather, Miss Heather?" Another nod. "Mipsy shall be doing that! Good night Miss Heather!" Mipsy said before popping away.
With a huge sigh, Heather collapsed onto her bed (and she still hadn't gotten over the novelty of it). She hadn't known dealing with house elves was quite so tiring. She smiled; another thing to write to Hadrian about.
She quickly unshrunk her trunk and took out her Transporting Chest. She put the food in first. Rian would be ravenous by now. The chest glowed and the food disappeared. Satisfied that it had been safely delivered, Heather began to write her letter.
Dearest Hadrian,
I've just settled into my new room - I actually have a bed, can you believe it? I wish you could be here with me. How are you? The Dursleys haven't tried anything have they? I know you can protect yourself, so please do.
I met the most comical boys on the Hogwarts Express today...