A large wicker hamper catches Harry's eye, the edge of a cloak hangs over the edge untidily.
Harry looks around, embarrassed by the thought entering his mind. He rummages through until he finds what he was looking for. He finds a cloak, and slides it into place. Stealing another glance, he's still alone, he spots a mirror and goes over to check out his reflection. The cloak is a little tight on his shoulders, but it's a base impulse.
He runs his fingers over the silver and green serpent embossed on the edge of cloak.
The questions he'd asked himself as he thought about the Sorting Hat. He knew he was in the right house, but that didn't satisfy him entirely. Perhaps as a Slytherin, he'd be more able to vanquish Voldemort.... or as a Ravenclaw, he'd have found a wiser solution to the return of the Dark Lord.
Startled at his absent minded gestures, Harry snatched his fingers away from the serpent. It's quite luxurious too, with a satin lining in forest green. Pulling it closed he found a name tag stitched inside.
'Hestia Carrow'
The name rang a bell. Oh, Yes. From the Slug Club. There was a Slytherin girl there with that name. This was probably her mother's cloak. She looked to be a bit of cold fish. But he'd thought the same of Hermione at first. Besides she was well spoken and held her own in any discussions at the club.
More came back to Harry as he thought about the club and Hestia. She'd had a twin sister... F..-something... Flora. That was it Flora. Wouldn't he still be himself, if he were in Slytherin. If he were friends with the Carrow's rather than the Weasley. Surely a house couldn't change a person. Harry didn't want to dismiss all Slytherin, just because Draco was a .... Draco was Draco. A pipsqueak upstart with delusions.
Realising he'd almost walked into the mirror. He drew himself up to his full height and struck a Slytherin-y pose. Putting a sneer on his face, and an arrogance in his stance.
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