House of the Serpent

I don't know what the hat was thinking. Oh, wait, yes I do--it was thinking gee, it's a little first-year who doesn't know shit about the world she's going into. I think I'll make Slytherin sound appealing, and NOT WARN HER THAT EVERYBODY IN SLYTHERIN WILL HATE HER. Yeah, that's a great idea. Sadistic patched-up bastard.

It said I could be great, and Slytherin would help me on my way to greatness. I had the potential to be a very impressive witch. I'd just been on the train, sitting in a corner, hoping no-one would notice me and wondering what it would be like there, and whether I'd be any good against people who'd known about magic all their lives.

And then the hat tells me I can be great, Slytherin can help me--what's it expect me to say? No, thanks? I figured Slytherin was the place to go--I've always tried to be the best at things. What's the point of trying for anything less?

So the hat goes 'you could be great' and I go, 'great! Sign me up!' And then the hat chuckles sadistically to itself as it shouts out SLYTHERIN!

Emma sighed and closed her diary. She didn't feel like recounting the rest of the story; not quite yet. She stared out the castle window at the grounds, and the forest out beyond them. She bit her lip, refusing to cry. No, she wouldn't give them that satisfaction.

I'll prove myself. I'll show them I'm just as good as they are.

Wait, that didn't make sense with what she'd written before. She'd have to fix it later.

It'll be hard going, though. They REALLY don't like me. One of the older boys, Draco Malfoy (sp?) called me a mudblood and said I wasn't welcome. Most of them seem to agree--at any rate, they're all ignoring me, and someone left slime of some sort in my bed.

She glared at the words, and then crossed them out. It wouldn't do to go harping on about such things. Above I'll prove myself, she added:

Then, only then, did I find out they don't like 'mudbloods,' which is what they called me. So now they think I'm no good.

She skipped a few lines, and continued,

They made fun of my looks, too. And the coat Mum sent with me. Gits. No wonder those boys booed.

Emma tucked the diary away in her bag, and took out the scroll and parchment they expected her to use now. She had homework to do.

"Dobbs."

She looked up, and saw two boys approaching. She recognized them--they were Slytherins in her year, Malcolm Baddock and Graham Pritchard.

"Dobbs," Malcolm repeated.

"Yes? That's my name, don't use it, please."

Malcolm was a dark-haired boy with pointed features and very alert eyes. "Why not?"

"Everyone hates it. Much better not to be rude."

Malcolm shrugged. "I wouldn't blame you for hating it. It's almost as bad as mine." He gave her a half-grin. Surprised, she returned it.

"It's not such a big deal," he told her, folding his arms and leaning on the windowsill. "Great view though, huh?"

"My grandmother was a muggle," Graham remarked, sitting on the bench beside her. "And we're only Pureblood for a few generations on my dad's side." Graham had stringy blond hair, a turned-up nose, and a slightly lopsided face.

"What sort of alliance?"

"General. All-purpose. Strength in numbers and all that. I don't want to get stuck being some older kid's toady."

"So you'll let me join you? Even though I'm--"

"Asking questions I've already answered? Yes, that's the idea."

"I--I'd like to very much--thank you." She took his hand. Malcolm gave a thin-lipped smile.

"It's settled then. We'll stick together. Anybody bothers you, they've bothered us all. And same goes for me and Graham."

"Emma," Graham put in, in a much less grandiose tone, "Have you ever played Exploding Snap?"

Dear Diary,

Okay, I take it back about Slytherins being so bad. Graham and Malcolm and I are friends now. Together through thick and thin, and all that. And I'm the best in my year at potions.

-- Emma Dobbs