The grey heir

The fire in the Slytherin common room cast long green shadows on the polished black stone. The lake's filtered light shimmered through the windows, bathing the room in a faint, aquatic glow. It was early—too early for most students. But not for Harry.

He stepped into the common room and paused.

Daphne Greengrass was already seated in one of the emerald velvet chairs, a thick book opened across her knees. Her eyes flicked up as she sensed his presence.

"Early riser?" she asked, her voice calm and unreadable.

Harry offered a nod. "Old habit. I like the quiet."

Daphne closed her book with a soft thump. "Slytherins don't usually like being watched, especially before breakfast."

"Good thing I'm not watching," Harry said simply. "Just walking."

She studied him for a moment, as if measuring his tone against his posture. "You're not like the others. Most first-years are either boasting or terrified. You seem... somewhere else."

He gave a small shrug. "Everyone wears a mask in this House. I just picked one that fits."

A pause, then a faint smile from her. "Practical."

They sat in companionable silence for a while, the crackling fire the only sound. Then Daphne rose.

"Breakfast?"

Harry nodded. They walked toward the exit, neither close nor distant. Merely aware of one another.

---

The Great Hall was alive with early morning chatter. Floating candles bobbed lazily under the enchanted ceiling, which showed a cloudy dawn sky.

At the Slytherin table, Draco gave them a glance but kept his attention on Blaise. Crabbe and Goyle barely noticed.

Harry quietly ate his toast and eggs. He could feel eyes on him—Gryffindors especially. Ron Weasley kept sneaking glances over his goblet. Hermione Granger was scanning the tables like she was categorizing everyone.

"Is he really him?"

"He doesn't act like it."

"He sits with Greengrass, not Malfoy. Weird."

Professor McGonagall arrived with a sharp gait, handing out timetables.

"Mr. Potter. Miss Greengrass. Your schedules."

"Thank you, Professor," they said in unison.

First class: Double Potions with Gryffindor.

Harry met Daphne's eyes. She sighed lightly. "Let's see how loud the lions roar."

---

The Potions classroom smelled of damp stone and crushed herbs. Shelves lined the walls, filled with murky liquids and preserved creatures.

Professor Snape swept into the room like a storm cloud.

"There will be no foolish wand-waving here. No silly incantations."

His voice was soft, but each word cut like a blade.

He walked between the rows of paired students.

"I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death."

His black eyes landed on Harry. "Potter. What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

Harry met his gaze evenly. "A Draught of Living Death, sir."

A flicker of something passed through Snape's face.

"And the difference between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

"They're the same plant, sir. Aconite."

Snape turned. "Clearly, fame isn't everything."

Ron muttered something under his breath.

"What was that, Mr. Weasley? Five points from Gryffindor."

Ron flushed red. "Why are you only picking on Harry?!"

Snape sneered. "Because, unlike you, he knows how to answer without embarrassing himself."

The class snickered. Harry stayed silent.

Snape waved his hand. "Pair up. Greengrass with Potter."

Daphne moved beside Harry without comment. Their potion—a simple Cure for Boils—was precise, calm, and clean. By the end of class, Snape barely had room to criticize.

"Adequate," he murmured. "Five points to Slytherin."

Ron hissed toward Harry on their way out, "What, think you're better than everyone because Snape likes you now?"

Harry turned with a mild expression. "No. I just think I'm better than you."

That shut Ron up for a good ten seconds.

But later in the hallway, Ron stepped closer, blocking Harry's path. "I don't get you. One minute you act like you're above it all, the next you're brewing potions like you're Snape's favorite. What are you trying to prove?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Maybe I'm not trying to prove anything. Maybe I just came to learn."

Ron scoffed. "Yeah, well, we don't need another Malfoy in the castle."

"Then stop acting like you're trying to compete with one," Harry shot back before walking past him.

---

After lunch, the whispers began.

"He's nothing like I expected."

"I thought he was raised by Muggles? He acts like he's been here before."

"Did you see how calm he was with Snape? Weird."

Hermione Granger cornered him briefly near the library entrance.

"You're Harry Potter, right?" she said breathlessly. "You really know your potions. Do you read ahead?"

Harry offered a mild smile. "I just remember things well."

She blinked. "Oh. Right."

He nodded politely and walked off with Daphne.

"She's trying to figure you out," Daphne said as they turned the corner.

"Let her try," Harry replied.

---

That night, back in his room, Harry fed Iskaris a strip of magically frozen rodent. The snake hissed contentedly.

"The bat-man watches you."

"Snape watches everyone," Harry muttered.

He jotted notes in his journal again:

Snape: unpredictable but not hostile. Malfoy still calculating. Daphne intelligent. Ron impulsive. Hermione... observant.

He leaned back, letting the lake shadows wash over the room.

Hogwarts is full of eyes. But so far, no alarms.

He smiled faintly.

Let the game begin.

---

To be continued...