Also present at the staff table was an elderly man sitting in an elaborate throne who could only have been Dumbledore. With how manipulative he'd been so far, I had a hunch he was bad news to me, but I'd cross that bridge when I came to it.
One of the Slytherins prefects pointed to a pleasant looking, utterly nondescript man with sandy blond hair in his late forties sitting next to McGonagall. "That's our new potions professor, Colm O'Neill. Apparently, he was homeschooled and got his degree in America. No one seems to know much about him, but he's better than Snape was, at least."
"Professor Snape was the best thing to happen to Slytherin," Draco protested.
"No, Malfoy, he was not," the prefect said sternly. "Sure, we won the House Cup over and over again, but only because he gamed the system. He was surly and argumentative and cruel and those were his good qualities. He put us in a race to the bottom, taking out his limitless anger on all other houses."
"The people in those houses hate us!" Draco said. "Professor Snape was just leveling the playing field!"
Shall I bite him? Ishtaran asked in a whisper.
I shook my head minutely. I didn't want to reveal that I was a Parselmouth. Eventually, I would, but at an opportune time of my choosing. Not now. No, now was the time for stealth. For guile. For eating the damn food already!
But no one appeared to have given old Dumbledore the memo, because he kept on droning on about unimportant things like, I don't know, administrative stuff like the third floor being closed because someone died a very painful death there. I wasn't paying attention. I have difficulties paying attention sometimes. I wonder if I can get magical medication for that.
Finally, the old blowhard finished and I could get to the food. "What do you suppose all that was about?" Ron asked. "The whole don't go to the third floor corridor or you'll die thing?"
"Seems self-explanatory to me," I commented. "Why should I care at all?" I mean, it's not like I'm a character in a novel and this is my call to adventure, am I right or am I right? No, I have more important concerns. Restoring Slytherin's reputation. Looking up magical zoning law. Trolling Draco like there's no tomorrow. The finer things in life.
When the dinner was over, Sinistra and the Prefects escorted us to the dungeons. Yes, you read that right. In keeping with the absolutely crappy way our house was being treated, we got our common room in the bloody dungeons. Absolutely ridiculous. No wonder people think of my house as evil when we've got some frigging mad scientist lair. I mean, just take a look at this!
[Image description: The dank and dramatic common room of Slytherin House. We are basically underwater here. You can see merfolk. And a giant squid. And do not get me wrong, that is all very cool, but what if the windows break? We all drown, that's what. Hopefully, there's some sort of magical defense against that. I have my doubts.]
"Slytherin is changing," Professor Sinistra informed us. Her voice was creaky and she looked like she might collapse at any second, yet there was still something mysterious and charismatic about her. "In past years, certain individuals who shall not be named gave this house a foul reputation. We became known for our bigotry rather than our embrace of new ideas. This ends today. This year, we have more Muggleborns than at any year since the Muggleborn Renaissance of the 1960s. We will embrace this. We will no longer cater to hidebound and unimportant prejudices."
"What?!" Draco shouted. "Wait until my father hears about this!"
"If your father seeks to openly espouse the ideals he was ostensibly controlled into supporting, Mr. Malfoy," Professor Sinistra said sharply, "then he is an idiot who is a disgrace to Slytherin house. What will happen is your father will wait and see where the political winds shift and he will not come running at the beck and call of his eleven year old son."
Draco reared backwards as if he had been slapped. "Young Mr. Malfoy," Professor Sinistra continued in a much gentler tone, "you cannot bully your way into success anymore. The ideal Slytherin adapts. I am sure you can do the same." I was not.
After proceeding to go over your standard administrative stuff, Professor Sinistra pulled out her wand and opened up, and I kid you not, an actual wormhole. Turns out that astronomy professor title of hers? Not for show. She stepped through it and was gone in a literal flash. If I were five years older and she was two hundred years younger, I'm pretty sure I'd be in love.
.....
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