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Enjoy yourselves!

I don't own a thing, okay?

Thank you to my betas for this chapter: Savage Damsel



"Everybody speaking"

¤¤Midnight's (Harry's) thoughts¤¤

The majority of the presents' thoughts

R&R

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Previously in Black Sheep:
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On his way out of the hall, he was followed by many eyes. After all, it was not every day that The Boy Who Was Spared was called to the Headmaster's office only three hours after he had arrived at the school. Midnight flashed Dean a grin as he walked out of the hall; the grin grew larger when he got a whimper for his effort.

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Chapter 4: He will get you.
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As Midnight walked up the constantly shifting staircases towards the Headmaster's office, he thought about how he should act towards the old man.

He had many rules that included being well-mannered and respectful towards all teachers. They were the ones giving him knowledge, after all, and if you respected them, they respected you...a brain was also required of course. At St. Paul's, he had been well-mannered towards all the teachers, and they had favored him because of it. This made his life much more pleasant; in their minds he could never do anything wrong or mean, he was their prime student, not a bully. So, of course, there was no use in crying to the staff at the school about how cruel he was, because Mr. Midnight wasn't! And the children soon found out that he had the teachers eating out of his hand, which made them even more afraid of him...

¤¤Oh those were the times....¤¤

So he decided to approach this school's teachers as he had the teachers at St.Paul's. The goal was to get them to eat out of his hand; to swallow every word and accept his every action without question, like his good old teachers.

But there was one glaring problem; a large pothole on his straight road to power over this school-his name. He could no longer hide behind the name Midnight. Here, people knew who he really was; he was no longer a mysterious boy, one who had an unknown true name and whose background was even more mystifying than he was. He was The Boy Who Was Spared; the only person the evil dark lord didn't want dead. And something like that could really damage a reputation.

And, of course, there was the minor glitch in the fact that he was the only Potter to be placed in Slytherin House, EVER. And the school would soon see that he wasn't anything like the other Potters. But that, of course, he could change as well, if he found it necessary. He didn't have to act like himself, like the asshole he really was...but he wanted to! He wanted to scare pathetic children like Thomas and the toad boy. And he loved to be rude towards annoying pricks like the dead racoon girl. He wanted people to walk on their toes around him and wonder about how he came to be The Boy Who Was Spared. He was sick of acting all nice and shit, but he guessed he'd have to keep the façade, at least around the professors. After all, he didn't want to get a bad grade just because some stupid Professor didn't like his persona.

But he knew, as he gazed around and observed some very odd paintings, that he just had to be well-mannered and slightly respectful towards them, but the other students were another matter entirely. Of course, he wouldn't openly harass a fellow student in front of a Professor, or leave any signs of his crimes; he wasn't a stupid Gryffindor, either.

Dumbledore stopped in front of a great entrance which obviously led to his office. Midnight decided that he would play along with Dumbledore for now, and see how he was laying his cards. His other plans could wait a little longer. Besides, he had a terrible temper, so who knew what sort of things might come out of his mouth around the annoying man. At least he had pocketed his wand, so that he wouldn't wind up hexing the Headmaster during their first session of 'fix Harry'.

"Harry my boy, how are you?"

Midnight's left eyebrow rose painfully high as he stared at his new headmaster.

¤¤What...? Boy? Excuse me, do I know you at all?¤¤

He sent Dumbledore a confused look as he repeated his mantra- ¤¤Be well mannered, be well mannered, be well mannered¤¤-and declined the old man's tea and sweets, saying his baby sister had inherited his share of the family's sweet tooth.

"I'm doing well, sir, but...I don't think we've ever met before..." he responded politely.

Dumbledore gave the youngest Potter boy something he hoped appeared to be a sad, but kind, smile. "Ah...I know we don't know each other that well personally, but I was hoping we could change that. You see, I'm a close friend of your parents'...and you look so much like them that I feel like I already know you a little."

¤¤Ah...sentiment, pity, familiar comfort; check...¤¤

"James and Janet, you mean?" Midnight 'asked' with a bit more spite than planned, and promised himself to tone the obvious hatred down a little when he saw Dumbledore wince at his tone.

"Yes, James and Janet, but also Lily; she was one of my best students, a lovely and caring person she was, such a loss..." Dumbledore had bowed his head as he talked about his dear Lily, but now raised it half way so he could sneak a peek at Harry, hoping to see a sorrowful, or intent, expression. He hoped that bringing Harry's mother into the picture would make the boy easier to deal with, at least in regards to himself. He wasn't disappointed.

Midnight understood where this 'chat' was heading and played along. It was a good move of the Professor to mention his mother, and it would have worked even better if he had actually cared.

The black haired boy used his famous acting skills and made the perfect picture of a boy lost in sorrowful memories of the past, sitting back and gazing blankly into space. In reality, though, he was staring at one of Dumbledore's strange silver objects.

"Mother......." He said, lost in thoughts as he leaned back on the sofa. This 'conversation' was dangerously boring. If the old wizard thought that some small chat about how the white haired man had been close friends with his late mother and lovely new family was going to change anything, he was sorely mistaken. If he wanted to fix Harry's splendid personality, he would have to try harder. A LOT harder.

Dumbledore stood up and walked over to where Harry sat and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"She was Head Girl you know; very smart, a lot like you...I'm sure you will be a Prefect, perhaps even Head Boy, if you set your mind to it."

¤¤Flattery and bribery; check. And why not take it?¤¤

Midnight sent Dumbledore his most charming smile, which he had been informed -much to his unending horror- was a perfect replica of James' famous smile. But he made sure to keep the sad look in his eyes, so as to not confuse the Headmaster with the sudden mood change.

"Yes, that would be great, sir. It would be an honor to follow in my mother's footsteps."

To his vast amusement and delight, Dumbledore bought it and smiled right back at him; obviously, he took his charming smile for enthusiasm and pride in Lily, which was fine by Harry. "Yes, if you're half as clever as your parents, Harry, I'm sure we will see a Prefect badge on your chest in a few years."

"Thanks...but Headmaster, was there something more you wanted to talk to me about? Because I would like to go down to my House mates. You know, connect with them, make their acquaintance, memorize their names..." Midnight had placed himself at the end of the sofa, away from Dumbledore and just some small steps away from the door that led to freedom. He badly wanted to escape the room, and hadn't noticed his slip of tongue.

"Friends, you mean?" Dumbledore said with his twinkling eye set on 'slow and painful death'.

That brought Midnight out of his daydream of escape. Had the man talked to him without Midnight noticing?

"Wha...oh, yes, of course. Friends. Was there anything else, sir?" Midnight was slowly getting up from the sofa and away from the old man, who had come closer to discovering his true personality while he had been spaced out.

Dumbledore stood also, closing in on Midnight, who was starting to freak out.

¤¤What is wrong with this man? Why does he always feel the need to touch me!¤¤

"Yes, in fact, there was. Harry, my boy, why did you feel the need to rebel on the first day of school? I'm sure you know that students of this school are required to wear school uniforms."

As strange as it might seem, the young Slytherin was greatly relieved when he got the question. Finally, he was back on familiar ground; this was one of the things he was good at-discussing rules and manners with his elders.

"Ah, but sir, you misunderstood me. I hardly wished to rebel or make anyone uncomfortable. I have obviously misinterpreted the clothing rule. Correct me if I'm wrong, sir, but I thought it was required by the school that the students wore their uniforms as soon as the school year was in session, not otherwise. And since the school year, by definition, doesn't start until tomorrow, I didn't think it was expected of us to wear the uniform." The eleven year old student smiled his most charming smile and was pleased by Dumbledore's many facial expressions throughout the 'speech'.

"You have not misinterpreted the rules, Harry, but Hogwarts -despite the rules- normally use the school uniforms at the welcoming feast. You see, it's a tradition."

Midnight successfully got out of reach of Dumbledore's wrinkly and sweaty hand as he spoke ith a small smirk. "I respect that, sir; it's a nice tradition. But wouldn't you find it wise to inform the new students of that particular rule in their acceptance letter, so that they don't have to make their own interpretations. After all, we don't want a new student to feel left out and uncomfortable on his first day, do we, sir? That would be a shame."

"Yes, that might be wise, but...just see to it that you wear your uniform tomorrow, Harry, and tell your friend the same, will you?" Dumbledore seemed lost in thoughts as he made his way back over to his desk.

"Yes, of course Sir, it won't happen again. If that was all...?" Midnight had risen to his feet and was standing halfway through the door, just waiting for that final nod from the old wizard. When he got it, he bid farewell and left the office, hoping he didn't need to see it again anytime soon.

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When the dark angel entered the green and silver decorated common room of Slytherin, he found his twin chatting along with his newly found blond friend. Midnight didn't spare a thought about the looks he was receiving as he walked over to Blaise and dragged him out of the chair by the collar of his jacket.

"Change," Midnight ordered Blaise as he placed himself in the free chair, arranging the uniform he had just put on nicely around his feet. He had kept it shrunken in his pocket and had found an abandon classroom to change in on his way down from the Headmaster's office. He looked up at Blaise when he saw out of the corner of his snake eyes that his friend hadn't moved. The smaller of the two looked strangely at his friend, not getting what he meant by the word 'change'.

Midnight mentally rolled his eyes, but didn't want to make it more embarrassing for his friend.

"5", he said simply, and Blaise finally caught on, but he obviously disagreed with The Boy Who Was Spared.

"But there is no..."

"I don't bloody care, Blaise, now change!" Midnight interrupted him with an angry tone. Why did Blaise find the need to question him and spread his secret rules around?

Blaise, who knew of Midnight's foul temper, just rolled his eyes and walked up to their dorm to change into the school uniform. Draco had asked him earlier why he and Midnight didn't wear theirs. He had just answered that they didn't feel the need, which had earned him yet another strange look.

Midnight didn't talk to or acknowledge anyone beyond giving Draco a small hello, as he waited for Blaise and another person he knew would arrive soon. And, as always, he was correct. Just as Blaise sat down besides Draco and Midnight with a question on his tongue to his black haired friend about his eagerness to wear the uniform, the portrait that guarded the common room was slammed open. Severus Snape strode inside the open portrait and levelled everyone with a firm glance. He walked forwards and placed himself in the middle of the room, allowing his dark gaze to rest on two of his new students.

"I'm pleased to see you two have finally come to your senses and changed into the school uniforms." Many flinched at his sharp tone, but Midnight, much to the older students' horror, gave him a small smile in return for his effort.

"Yes, it would be inappropriate to be dressed in anything else in front of a Professor such as yourself, sir," Midnight answered smoothly and mentally clapped himself on the shoulder as Snape gave him a small nod in return.

"Welcome Slytherins, whether you are returning for yet another school year or joining us for the first time. Like the other three Houses, Slytherin has its unique and prized qualities and you were considered to have possessed these qualities and to be worthy of this House, thus your presence here. You might have families and friends who have told you different things about this noble House of Slytherin, but do not let the multiple distasteful rumours and whisperings convince you otherwise. There is honour in this House, though many scorn our brand of honour. But aside from that, a few rules need to be set, new to the first years and a reminder to the older students."

"Rule 1: Protect your own."

"You will protect your fellow House mates. Even if you're not the best of friends inside this House, you will not turn your back on a House member that needs you. You will stick together and not show any internal weaknesses to the other Houses."

"Rule 2: Conflicts will be kept inside the House."

"If you have a disagreement with some of your House mates, I will not see it outside of these walls. Internal conflicts will be kept internal and hidden; do not bring it out in public. If you cannot solve the problem yourselves, then bring it to me, and I will mediate."

"Rule 3: What concerns the House stays in the House".

"This is much like Rule 2; if there is a problem or issue, or even a positive thing going on within the House, it will stay here. Do not go around speaking of things that are not meant to leave this House."

"Rule 4: We are your new family."

"All of the people you see around you have now become your new family, and just like with birth families, there will be some people that you like more than others, but you will survive. You will be living, eating, and schooling together for 7 years and learn to tolerate and even care for each other. You might not like it all the time, but having the whole House as your family will make you and your House mates stronger."

"And the last rule is not an official rule, and will not be spoken about outside this room."

"Rule 5: Don't get caught."

"I know pranking has become somewhat of a sport here at Hogwarts. And even though I don't support it, I will tolerate that some of my students participate in the 'sport'. But don't get caught doing anything. If you are stupid enough to be caught in the act, or to leave behind evidence, I will not come to your rescue. I am your Professor, not your schoolmate."

"On a final note, the password to the common room portrait this week is: Fide, sed qui, vide. (Trust but take care whom). I will change it every week and will not tell you it twice, so you'd best remember it the first time around. And for Merlin's sake, don't shout it out as you run down the corridor; say it quietly, facing the portrait so that students from other Houses can't hear you. Even though you might not see them, they could still be there waiting for some idiotic student to speak too loudly."

"Now, I bid you goodnight. Breakfast starst at 7 o'clock tomorrow morning, and I want to see you all there early, wide awake, as you will be handed your schedules once you've all arrived. Goodnight."

Choirs of 'Goodnight Professor' rang through the air as the Potions master slid out of the door, his black robes billowing behind him at his fast and gracious walk.

"That went well, don't you think? Oh, and was there something you wanted to say to me, Blaise?" Midnight raised a suggestive black eyebrow and cocked his head to the side, giving his equally black haired friend an inquiring look and trying to hide his pleasure at having something on the Zabini boy.

Blaise hated when these types of things happened. How could Midnight possibly have known that their Head of House was coming! He swallowed a sneer and mimicked Midnight's cocky expression.

"I just wanted to say thank you, Midnight, for suggesting that I should change and thereby saving face with Snape," he replied with false sweetness in his tone, not trying hard enough to hide his bitterness over this conversation. Midnight just smiled sweetly right back at him, holding eye contact.

"You two bicker an awful lot for being friends," Draco Malfoy said, from his seat at Blaise's right and Midnight's left. Midnight's blistering green slitted serpent eyes levelled Draco with a sharp glare, as he moved slightly closer to the blond boy.

"That is what good friends do, Malfoy; they always try to best each other, but you wouldn't know that, Blondie, would you, as you haven't had any good friends before," He sneered.

"Potter!" Blaise hissed angrily, beating Draco to it.

"What?" The snake eyed boy asked bluntly, enjoying the anger that flashed across their faces, especially Malfoy's; the blond was practically foaming with rage. It was so fun to play with stuck ups like him. His mirth was rudely interrupted when Blaise dragged him to a dark corner of the room.

"Behave youself, ass!" Midnight concentrated on Blaise again; the boy was really quite pissed right now and Midnight thought that he really was too eager to get Malfoy on their side.

"Behave myself, Blaise? Whatever for? I'm not the one who wants him so badly. Have you already forgotten rule 11? You don't even know him, Blaise!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Midnight! No, I haven't forgotten your bleeding rule. But you saw the potential there, same as I did! He could be great, and even if you don't see it, he is a lot like you. He's perfect for us."

Midnight was getting slightly mad now. How could Blaise be so thick headed?

"Potential, Blaise? You've only known him for a few hours, and first met him when you were only four years old! You don't know him! And you cannot trust him; he could be playing with you, acting the way you want him to act, for all you know!"

"Listen to yourself, Mid. Why are you so bloody paranoid? He doesn't know about us or the Feared. He's not trying to fool me. Why should he? What could he possibly gain by letting an eleven year old boy think he's something he's not? Please, try to loosen up a little bit towards him. We need another player, and he is perfect. His father is a powerful member of the Ministry, and people respect and fear him because of his father. It is said that he is a supporter of the red eyed Lord; he was accused in the last war, but pleaded innocent of all charges. You could even use Draco to do your dirty work, or just use him to get a reputation for being powerful; a kid like Draco doesn't just dance to anyone's tune. Just, please, Midnight, think about it."

The leader looked at Blaise gravely, but nodded his head in agreement.

"I promise, Blaise, but you know how hard it is for me to trust people. I will not just take anyone under my wing; they must earn it."

"Agreed."

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Draco Malfoy was confused. Harry Potter, or Midnight, as he liked to call himself, confused him. The boy was so...strange! He wasn't acting at all how he should have been acting...well, at least in Draco's point of view. He was Harry Potter, thereby a Potter, and Potters were notoriously good, light, arrogant, Gryffindorish pricks. This Potter had some of the said traits but those were the less charming once; he was an arrogant prick. How he could be a Potter at all confused Draco greatly, and the Malfoy heir didn't like to be confused; Malfoys were never confused!

The Potter boy was a bleeding Slytherin; he was cunning, smart, had a sharp tongue, a dangerous temper - though that might be a Gryffindorish trait -, he was rude, commanding, powerful, and he had been spared by the Dark Lord, for crying out loud. Why would the Lord spare a Potter? Potters were good for nothing annoying jerks!

But in all his frustration, he was glad to restart his friendship with Blaise Zabini. The other boy had been one of the few children his age he had liked when he was younger. Draco didn't usually like other kids; they talked too much, made lots of noise, and were just plain irritating. That was one of the reasons he didn't have lots of friends, as Midnight had painfully put it; he had never meet a person he could stand for more than five minutes before getting sick of them. But that wasn't the deal with Potter and Blaise; they were different. They fascinated him, and found himself wanting to know more about the two strange Slytherins. Although, Potter was being rude towards him, which he simply couldn't tolerate. He wouldn't take any shit from the other boy. So what if he was The Boy Who Was Spared? The Lord probably spared him because he couldn't be bothered to kill such a pathetic thing. Draco amused himself with that thought as he waited from his new 'friends' to return.

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The two dark angels walked back to their unoccupied seats a few minutes later, with Midnight in the lead and looking grave, while Blaise looked rather tired, but satisfied. Draco was wondering what they had talked, or rather argued, about this time. It seemed that they were constantly bickering.

"What was that all about?" The blond boy of the trio asked with a rather commanding tone of voice as they made themselves comfortable yet again, completely ignoring the other Slytherin students.

"Nothing you should bother your pretty blond head about, Malfoy. Why don't you tell me a bit about your father? I heard he has an important job at the Ministry. Do tell," Midnight replied with an equally commanding tone, though his blazing snake eyes didn't help matters much for Draco. He was outraged at first, telling himself that he would not be talked to like that by a Potter, but Midnight's next sentence blew all his previous thoughts away. Draco had to hand it to the tallest snake, he was very good at changing topics.

"I...my father?" he asked, his confusion evident in his teal eyes.

Midnight simply looked at him with a raised eyebrow and drawled, "Yes, that would be Lucius Malfoy, I believe. I trust you know of him?"

He really just wanted to staple Malfoy as a 'not going to happen', but he had promised Blaise that he would give him a chance. And who knew, maybe he wasn't as boring as he made out to be; miracles did happen sometimes, after all. Besides, he had an interesting father. Lucius Malfoy; now, there was a fascinating man!

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While Draco informed Midnight and Blaise of his father's work at the Ministry, the youngest members of Gryffindor were gathering around a small brown haired first year boy, eager to hear what he had to say. Most of them had realized that this Dean Thomas boy knew Harry Potter from outside of Hogwarts. They had either seen Potter talk to him before the sorting, or overheard Dean telling Hermione Granger about him during the feast.

They were all rather curious about the Potter heir. They had all heard many stories concerning why he had been spared by You-Know-Who, as well as rumours of him and his unpleasant disposition. But they had never seen him before; never heard him speak, or seen him walk, or eat, or even live...

So far, what they have seen of him made them even more curious; he was everything and nothing that they had thought he might be. He was so different from all of them, and he was famous and rumoured to be quite powerful. They wanted to know more about him. They wanted to know if he acted differently outside of Hogwarts, or if he really was as horrible as Dean had said he was. And what was all this talk about the Feared Four? The Boy Who Was Spared was a gang member?

"Thomas, tell us, how long have you known him?" A brave third year girl spoke first, breaking the rising tension in the room.

"Yeah, tell us what he's like outside of school," a second year piped up, eager for answers. Many students nodded their heads, pressuring Dean into telling them about his past concerning Midnight. Hermione was right by his side, a comforting hand on his slumped shoulders. She now knew all he had to say about Potter and knew it was going to be hard for him to retell it so soon. He really was quite afraid of this boy.

"I...I...He..." Dean stuttered along as his friend urged him on, rubbing his suddenly sore shoulders gently.

"Come on, Thomas, pull your act together! It's not that hard, just form the words with your tongue and open your mouth to let them out," a redhead by the name of Ronald Weasley shouted from the other side of the room, making a few of the students snicker silently, mirth in their eyes.

Both Gryffindors standing in the center of the crowd sent him angry glares, Granger's several levels stronger than Thomas', who let a soft sigh leave his lips before he started his tale yet again to a crowded Gryffindor common room.

"I've known him for nearly six years. I'm muggleborn, so I've lived in the muggle world and I went to a muggle primary school before I came here to Hogwarts. The school I went to was your regular muggle primary school with your regular student body of five to eleven year olds, except for four students. Those four were the elite of the school; the leaders, the prime students, the cool ones, and the bad asses. They were good friends from day one, even though there was a small age difference between them. They hadn't arranged themselves as a gang or a group; they were just four friends. But they were strong friends, and the school took to calling them the Feared Four, because that was really what they were: four boys you should fear."

Oh, this is good Most of the gathered Gryffindors had thought the young and skittish boy would simply say, 'He's mean, stay away from him.' But here he was, giving them a great inside story about Potter's past.

I'm so going to tell my friends about this tomorrow.

Someone, much to Dean's horror if he had known, was planning to give the Prophet an anonymous tip about this. After all, the world deserved to know something this important about The Boy Who Was Spared, and they themselves deserved the one hundred galleon prize money.

"And Potter was one of the four members?" Seamus Finnegan asked the obvious question, grinning with excitement.

"Yes, but he wasn't just a member; he was the 'leader'. The group was a trio in Potter's first year, containing him, Mack, a third year, and Kyle, a second year. One year later, it became a quartet when Zabini move to town. He and Midnight almost immediately became best friends, and they were the brains in the group, while Mack and Kyle were the muscles. The gr...."

Dean was interrupted by an unknown voice asking "Who is Midnight? You said Midnight and Zabini became friends..."

Dean looked up; he hadn't realized he had even said it, he was just so used of calling him that.

"Oh, Midnight is Potter. From what I've heard, his friends named him that. Some said he was called MIdnight because his heart was as dark as midnight, but nobody really knew where the name came from. At first, I believed he took the name to scare us or because he thought it was cool, but now I think I know why he called himself by that name. Nobody at the school knew his real name; he even got the teachers to call him Midnight. I don't even know if the Feared knew who he really was. Maybe Zabini knew; he didn't look very surprised when McGonagall announced that his best friend was The Boy Who Was Spared. It was very clever of him; of course, he never does anything without coming out as a winner in the end..."

"What do you mean?" a third year boy asked, and Hermione answered instead of her friend.

"When he came to St. Paul's, only the Headmaster knew his real name because it was in his papers. Nobody else knew his name. This fitted Potter quite well, since the Potter family had chosen to live rather publicly in the muggle world after Lily Potter was killed. And they didn't just move because they were afraid; James Potter was also trying to protect his son from the media, who wanted to get their fair share out of the only person who had been blessed with his life by You-Know-Who.

And Potter knew when he started at St. Paul's primary school that there could be more people like him there, wizards living in the muggle world and going to muggle schools, wizards and witches who knew who he was and why he was famous. If he let people know his real name, he would yet again be pushed into the spotlight."

"That's why I called him Midnight; all of the students did. You will probably hear Zabini call him Midnight, even now that he knows for certain that he is Harry Potter."

"That's all nice and dandy, but why were you all afraid of the gang? They were only children themselves, and half of them were muggles. They had no power, no magic they could threaten you with," The youngest Weasley pointed out rather loudly.

Dean groaned once again; he really didn't want to talk about his horrible past. He had come here believing it all to be just that, his past. And he wanted it to lie there, untouched and forgotten. But why should he get to be happy? Why should he deserve one single year without Midnight making his days a living hell?

"It wasn't that they were so very mean, they didn't just attack kids for the kicks of it. It was more the amount of power they held above everybody. They had the teachers eating from their palms, especially Midnight, who was the brightest of them all."

"You sometimes heard them talking about different rules. Rumours said they were Midnight's rules of behaviour. But you never heard any of the secret and important rules; they didn't speak of them in public, using numbers instead, as they all knew them by heart. But no matter what the rules may have contained, the Feared Four were completely different people in the classroom. They were always respectful and well mannered around teachers, successfully making themselves the favourite students. But they were also the prime students, always getting the best grades, though nobody ever saw them open a book."

"Midnight was a real mystery; he could easily learn everything by heart. Whether it was math or history, he knew the answer and answered it in such a way that it seemed so easy and natural, making it appear almost as if he was born with the knowledge. This, of course, pleased the teachers, and I suspect that was the plan all along. Because the teachers were the only people you could go to if you had a problem within the school, and they all loved Midnight. So, of course, if you came to them talking ill of they darling boy, they would never believe you, thinking you were just trying to make their star student look bad out of jealousy. Their wise and respectful student would never do those things he was so wrongfully accused of!"

"They also had the majority of the student body on their side, because of various social issues. They were the cool and popular ones; if you wanted to be cool and popular, too, you better be liked by them. Anything else was a death wish. If they didn't like you, or found you slightly annoying, they would make your life terrible, like they did mine. So you had better do all you possibly could to please them, even if that meant beating up your other 'not so cool' friends. Some would do anything to be liked by Midnight, because if he liked you, you were safe. They would even take the blame if Midnight did something illegal or made someone cry. So in the end, they were safe from everyone, they were protected by just about everyone, and they ruled over everyone."

"But take my advice, as one of his victims; don't go looking for him. Don't think he can't harm you because you're here at Hogwarts. Trust me, he will find a way; he always does. He's a sly and cunning snake, and he will get you in the end. Just the fact that he was sorted into Slytherin as the first ever Potter in history to have done so should make my words more believable for you. You might think he doesn't notice you, or can't hear you speak ill of him, but he does; he always hears what he wants to hear, and he gets what he wants to get. And I'm quite sure he would kill if he wanted to kill. He's no one you should bother. Trust me, you don't want to see him angry. You don't want him as your enemy."

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TBC

You like? Was that okey with you lot?

(AN: Some bits of Snape's welcoming speech are not mine. I found it in someone's story and asked if I could use it, but never got any answer, and that was two years ago. I have changed some bits, so you might not recognise it anyway).