Harry Potter:blood legacy

At the moment, all Dumbledore could do was delay making a decision until he found a suitable family for Harry. Since the boy was a Slytherin, it was highly likely that many of the darker families would attempt to claim him, especially since he was a Parselmouth. This was the last thing Albus wanted.

The Headmaster was not so foolish as to think all Slytherins were evil—only a complete fool could think that—but he knew that the majority of them were followers of Voldemort or, at the very least, supporters of the ideals Tom had promoted. It was quite possible that they would want to adopt the boy solely to exact revenge for their former master, or, if they believed in his return, to have access to Harry so they could either kill him or deliver him to their master.

No, young Potter needed to live with a safe family, someone who would care for him and love him. While Dumbledore did not think Harry was evil for being a Slytherin, the old wizard still worried about him. Albus knew he had made a mistake with Tom Riddle in his time and could have prevented the boy from becoming Voldemort. If Harry went down the same path, he could become far worse—or at least just as bad.

"Albus!" came the outraged voice of McGonagall as she entered the office, holding a copy of the Daily Prophet in her hand.

"Minerva," he sighed before walking behind his desk and sitting down. This was going to be a very long conversation.

Severus Snape was currently in his office, brewing a potion as he often did in his free time. The entire castle was in shock over the article about the Potter brat. Somehow, the boy had managed to convince his fellow Slytherins to help him. Apparently, he had been abused. Snape mentally scoffed. So what? he thought.

Severus was almost certain his own childhood had been far worse than whatever Potter had endured, though he did feel a sliver of sympathy for the boy—Petunia had always been an insufferable wench. Nonetheless, all the Potions Master saw was proof of what he always knew: Potter was an attention-seeking child. He didn't like his life, so he complained and whined, using his fame to get someone to fix it.

Snape had recently spoken to Madam Hooch, who told him all about how Potter had saved that Davis girl and strongly recommended he let the brat try out for the Quidditch team. On one hand, he had absolutely no desire to give the brat anything else to brag about. On the other, Slytherin could benefit if Potter turned out to be even half as good as his father.

Snape hated James with every fiber of his being, but even he had to—very begrudgingly—admit that the stag had been excellent at Transfiguration and Quidditch. The Potions Master himself was decent at the former and utterly hopeless at the latter.

If Harry Potter turned out to be a good player, it would benefit the House and, in a way, serve as a slight against James, who was probably rolling in his grave at the thought of his son playing for the snakes. Besides, if the boy was going to be here, he might as well be useful. Of course, Snape wouldn't simply hand the boy a spot on the team—oh no, the brat would have to earn it like everyone else.

Harry sat in the Slytherin common room with Jet on his lap. Tracey sat to his right, Daphne to his left, and the rest of the Slytherins nearby. Most of them were doing their homework, except for Greengrass and Potter, who had already finished and were now reading.

"Potter," came a loud voice, and everyone looked up to see Marcus Flint, a fifth-year, approaching them. The boy was fairly tall and relatively muscular, though he couldn't exactly be called handsome.

"Can I help you with something?" Harry asked in a calm voice, while Jet lifted his head and hissed warningly at Flint, making him stop in his tracks.

"I... I spoke to Professor Snape," Marcus began, wisely keeping his distance. "He said Madam Hooch recommended you try out for the team," the older boy explained, and all conversation in the common room ceased as the students turned their attention to them.

"I don't think you should have said that in front of everyone," Theodore Nott commented.

"Well, I couldn't exactly get close enough to whisper, could I?" Flint pointed out, gesturing toward Jet.

"You could've asked Harry to calm him down," Tracey retorted.

"Or used a privacy charm," Daphne added. "Or asked Harry to speak to you in private." Flint stared at them for a second, then shook his head and turned to address the rest of the students.

"No one better talk about this outside Slytherin, or Professor Snape and I will make your lives hell," Marcus warned before turning back to Harry. "Tryouts are this Saturday at ten."

"And you want me to come? Sounds tempting, but I don't have a broom," Harry shrugged.

"You can use a school broom for the tryouts and buy or borrow one afterward," Flint replied, clearly seeing no issue.

"Wait, if Potter gets to try out, does that mean the rest of us can too?" Malfoy asked hopefully.

"We only need a Chaser right now. If any of you can play that position, you're welcome to come," Marcus agreed before walking away.

"Are you going to go?" Blaise immediately asked his friend.

"Quite possibly," Harry shrugged. "I've never played before, but I'd like to try. A Chaser is the one who catches the Quaffle and throws it through the hoop, right?"

"I can't believe you're asking that," Draco smirked.

"Muggle upbringing, remember?"

"I still can't believe you had to live with Muggles," Pansy sneered in disgust.

"I wouldn't mind living with Muggles, but I didn't like living with those particular stupid Muggles," Harry replied.

"All Muggles are stupid," Draco declared with finality.

"How do you know?" Harry asked, raising an eyebrow.

"What?"

"I asked, how do you know? Do you spend time with Muggles?"

"What?! Of course not," Malfoy scoffed, offended by the mere suggestion.

"Then how do you know they're stupid?"

"But… look at the Muggles you lived with."

"Oh, they're incredibly stupid, no doubt about it. But I don't think it's fair to judge everyone based on the ones I lived with."

"Why not?" Theodore asked.

"Because if we did that, it would be fair for others to judge all witches and wizards based on a few. Imagine someone coming to the wizarding world for the first time, meeting Weasley, and deciding all witches and wizards are like him." Harry paused and almost laughed at the offended looks on his classmates' faces. "That's why I judge people based on their skills and intellect."

"What about their appearance?" Daphne asked, fluttering her lashes innocently.

"That too," the boy admitted with a nod. To his credit, he only blushed slightly and managed to ignore the surprised looks from the others.

"Oh? So where would I rank on the 'Harry Potter scale of judgment'?" Daphne continued teasingly, pretending to be curious.

"Just behind Tracey," Harry answered nonchalantly before returning to his book. Truthfully, it was difficult to decide since both girls were very pretty.

"Hah—hey!" Daphne protested, smacking his arm as he smirked, earning a matching grin from her. The other first-years looked very surprised, including a blushing Tracey.

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