alea iacta est (Pt.2)

[cywscross]

Fandom: HP x Greek and Roman Mythology

Summary: Harry gets Sorted. And then makes a friend.

 

“Ah, you’ve met them then,” The Sorting Hat’s gravelly voice murmurs in his ear, and it sounds seconds away from laughter. “Or at least three of them. More unique individuals you’ll never meet. And Metis’ mind alone - Rowena and Salazar would’ve salivated.”

Right, Harry thinks, somewhat faintly. But everyone else seems to have taken a talking sentient hat who can read their minds in stride so he supposes he should too. Um, Ody is pretty cool.

The Hat chuckles. "That's one way of putting it. But the question now is, where shall I put you?"

Harry gulps and straightens with anticipation.

"Plenty of courage," The Hat continues in a thoughtful murmur. "And you're eager to learn more about the world you've entered, aren't you? You have talent, certainly, and a nice thirst to prove yourself. Hardworking too, when you're properly motivated. Hmm, any preferences?"

Harry didn't think he would have a choice, but now that he's been asked, his mind immediately goes to Ody, who's a Slytherin like the pale blond boy - Draco Malfoy - but kind and helpful, and he listened when Harry babbled about a spell that sounded particularly exciting, let him ask questions and even broke out Harry's books to guide him to the right answer in a part of The Standard Book of Spells that Harry didn't read yet, and no one's ever done that for him before.

No one's ever made him look at them and think, I could trust you.

"Well, it seems as if you've already decided," The Hat interrupts, sounding amused. "Gryffindor would be easier, I believe, but you have the greatest mind the world has ever seen on your side; I'm sure you'll be fine. So if you're sure-"

And Harry thinks of Ody and his easy, quiet confidence and patient demeanor, who has good friends and a respect from other people that he must have had to earn because he's a Slytherin, and Harry wants that. He wants good friends who aren't like that red-haired boy who gawked at Harry's scar during the entire boat ride over, or that Granger girl who's already been Sorted into Gryffindor and wouldn't stop talking about Harry's life as if she was the one who lived it just because she read a few books about him, and he wants the sort of respect Ody has for being Harry instead of the Boy Who Lived.

"-then better be SLYTHERIN!" The Hat shouts almost gleefully, and the entire Great Hall falls silent.

Except one. Harry whips off the Hat and hops off the stool, and he can feel his cheeks flush hot and red with embarrassment, but then clapping starts from the table on the far right - Slytherin - and even as short as Harry is, he can still see Ody smiling lazily at him like he knew all along where Harry would go. A second later, someone from Hufflepuff - Penelope of course - starts clapping as well, and then Nestor, and then a bunch of students from Gryffindor whom Harry doesn't recognize throw in their own applause, but he's still largely focused on Ody so he sees the older student flip a hand in the air, and Harry needs no further prompting. He practically shoves the Hat back into McGonagall's stunned hands before scurrying off towards the Slytherin table.

Ody glances at his - theirs, now - housemates, who all automatically shuffle over to make room, leaving a free seat beside Ody. The rest of the Hall has started clapping too, politely, and more than a bit stiltedly, although the Slytherins at least applaud with more neutrality, and Harry hardly cares as he drops onto the bench with a sigh of relief.

"Welcome to Slytherin, Harry," Odysseus pats his shoulder briefly. "Green and silver suit you."

Harry beams, glancing briefly down at his tie and robes before cautiously looking around. Because he's chosen to sit with Ody, he's mostly surrounded by older kids, but it's the boy sitting across from Ody - dark-skinned and cool-eyed, and not as tall as Ody but still pretty tall - who leans forward and extends a hand at him.

"Well, Slytherin is the best; stands to reason we would get the best," The older boy tips a smirk at Ody before focusing on Harry again as Harry shakes his hand. "Cyril Zabini, Potter, sixth-year. I expect you to work hard and do your House proud."

Harry nods hastily, hunching a little under Cyril's hawk-eyed gaze. He sneaks a glance up at Ody but the prefect doesn't seem too concerned, although he does wait until Cyril turns his attention back on the Sorting that's slowly moving on to the next student before dipping his head and murmuring, "Cyril expects the best from those around him, and he expects even better from himself. He doesn't mean anything personal."

Harry nods again. Well, if that's what Cyril is judging him on, then they shouldn't have a problem. He isn't planning on slacking off. He has a feeling it would disappoint Ody anyway.

The last student Sorted is Zabini, Blaise, and Harry automatically glances at Cyril, who's smirking sharply as the Hat yells Slytherin for him as well.

"My cousin," Cyril clarifies when he catches Harry's eye.

Blaise also comes to sit with them, taking the seat beside Cyril, and he puffs up, just a little, when Cyril gives him a nod. Then he looks at Ody and smiles. "Good evening, Odysseus."

"Blaise," Ody returns, one corner of his mouth ticking up. "Did you enjoy your train ride here?"

Blaise nods solemnly and deadpans, "I was blessed with a very detailed soliloquy on Malfoy's father. It was truly inspiring."

Cyril snorts delicately. Ody just grins. "Be nice, Blaise."

Blaise just makes a very contradictory - but subtle - face.

And then he's looking at Harry, and Harry stiffens as he stares back. They regard each other with a wary sort of curiosity before Blaise nods once at him and also offers a hand. "I'm Blaise Zabini."

Something loosens in Harry's gut. "I'm Harry Potter," He shakes the other boy's hand. "It's nice to meet you."

Blaise sniffs, "Well, we'll see," but it's softened ever so slightly by the playful smirk curling at his mouth so Harry doesn't flinch back.

Dumbledore stands and gives the oddest welcoming speech Harry's ever heard, but then the food appears, more food than he's ever seen at once, and he's allowed to eat it, and he thinks again that the day he found out there was a whole other world he belonged in will always be one of the best days of his life.

He tries to eat a bit of almost everything, although it's Ody who nudges some greens at him and gives him very pointed eyebrows that convey his point without a single spoken word. The prefect also stays Harry's hand when Harry starts eyeing some very rich-looking turkey dish of some sort, soaked in gravy, and when Harry blinks at him, Ody whispers in a voice too low for anyone else to hear, "That may be a bit too heavy for you right now, Harry."

Harry reddens, horrified, because Ody knows - without Harry ever having to say a word - but the older boy only nods and motions at a chicken dish that looks equally appetizing and enquires if Harry would like to try that instead, and Harry quickly nods.

Ody doesn't ask, doesn't needle him about it, just goes about making sure Harry gets water instead of pumpkin juice when Harry grimaces at the first sip, and then carries on a conversation with a fellow sixth-year when they ask Ody a question about runes or something.

Harry's ridiculously grateful. He doesn't want anyone kicking up a fuss or making a big deal in public (or even in private, but especially not in public).

He glances up when he feels eyes on him. Well, a closer pair of eyes on him, since most of the Hall has been shooting him looks since the start of the meal. He finds Blaise eyeing him intently, with the same eyes as his cousin's, and doesn't look away even when Harry shifts uncomfortably.

"How do you know Odysseus then?" Blaise asks eventually after swallowing a mouthful of mashed potatoes.

Harry blinks. "I met him in Diagon Alley, when I was shopping for my school supplies." He pauses. "How do you know him?"

Blaise arches an eyebrow. "He's friends with my cousin." Said cousin is currently debating Charms with the girl sitting on his left. "Cyril lives with my mother and I, so he's been to our house more than once. I've known him since they were both first-years themselves."

Oh. Harry feels a stab of jealousy that he quickly squashes to the best of his ability. It's a stupid thing to get jealous about. 

"Do you have a class you're looking forward to?" He blurts out instead before wincing.

Blaise eyes him a little strangely but shrugs and replies, "Charms, I suppose. It seems to be an interesting field. And you?"

"Um, Defense Against the Dark Arts," Harry smiles a bit. "Penelope lent me a book on defensive magic because she said the school curriculum wasn't really up to par in her opinion, and Ody said he'd help me pick out a few extracurricular texts on the subject. Oh, Penelope is-"

"Odysseus' girlfriend, yeah," Blaise nods. "I've met her too." He stops and wrinkles his nose. "Why do you call Odysseus 'Ody'?"

Harry squints a little in confusion. "He told me I could? He said most people do."

"Well, they do," Blaise agrees. "But why would you want to be like them? Odysseus isn't that hard to pronounce. And besides," He hesitates and glances at Ody, but Ody still seems deeply immersed in a textbook that another Slytherin's brought out. Blaise leans forward. "Besides, don't you think it seems a bit... disrespectful?"

Harry stares. Blaise stares back. And then the other boy shrugs, and somehow, Harry gets the feeling that he's failed some sort of test, or at least missed an important point that Blaise was trying to make. Still, the first-year's next words are friendly enough. "Never mind. I heard from Cyril that our dorm rooms will be three to each. You want to share?"

Harry takes a second longer to catch up, still feeling vaguely uneasy, but he brightens at Blaise's offer and nods and tries not to look too eager. Blaise doesn't seem to mind though because his smirk is more a smile this time.

"Great," Blaise tilts his head down the table to where most of the first-years are gathered. "Now we just have to make sure our third doesn't go to Malfoy. Trust me - we'll be drowning in beauty products and coming up with ways to hide a body by the end of the week if we end up sharing with him."

It's mean, it's terribly mean, and Harry's always tried not to be, if only because he doesn't want to be like Dudley, but he splutters out a laugh anyway, because yes, he did get that impression about Malfoy even just from their short meeting at Madame Malkin's, and across the table, Blaise grins, boyish and conspiratorial, and Harry thinks he might just have made his very first friend.