A/N: I Don't own Harry Potter, or anything/one else you might recognise.
Warnings for: Dark. Femslash. OC-Centric. Torture. Politics (not centric). Slytherin. NO BASHING
Expect Dumbledore to be as portrayed in Canon; very smart, very knowledgeable, very manipulative, and very old.
Expect Voldemort to be... Well, that'd be spoiling things. Lets just say Voldemort was feared for a reason.
Any and all changes have been caused by the presence of the OC. The OC is flapping her wings like a butterfly in this. If you spot something that is different; wave at the butterfly.
"You have to take her. I can't protect her. If he found out... I wouldn't be able to save her."
"She's... And you're giving her to me? You think I can protect her any better than you can?"
"No, but you can hide her. You know so many people, and most importantly they're not the ones that I know. If he found out about her, then he couldn't get her location out of my head."
"Wait. So...?"
"So I don't want to know where, or with who she will be hidden."
"You don't want to be a parent."
"Oh, I want her to be my daughter with all my heart. But with the war, and him... Let's face it, I'm not exactly parent material anyway."
"And I am?"
"No, but I'm not asking you to be her father, just her protector."
"Why does she even need protecting? Can't you just run away with her?"
"I can't. I have duties, obligations... People would notice... I know you were never the most responsible person, but I am, and I am asking you to be, this one time, for the most precious person in the world to me."
"I... Alright. I'll do it. Anything I should know?"
"No, but... Could you claim her as a Black?"
"What? The only way to do that would be to claim her as my daughter, and I thought you said you didn't want me to be her father!?"
"That's not what I said, I think you'd make a brilliant father if or when you put your heart to it. You can tell her that you're not her father. But she is a Black, and she deserves all that name carries. I know you don't think much of the family, but at the end of the day, the Black name has power. She could well need that in life. I may not be able to look after her directly, but I can do this."
"And it would give you a reason to see her, yes?"
"Exactly."
"Fine. I understand. I... Any last goodbyes?"
"Aquila, my daughter. I... I love you so much, and I'm so sorry that I won't be able to watch you grow up. You are my precious daughter, my wonderful daughter, and... And maybe someday I'll find you, someday when everything is safe. But no matter what, I know you'll do me proud whether I'm there to see it or not. Goodbye, my little fledgling."
BUZZ!
I open my eyes at the sound of my alarm. A slap on the wall panel turns it off, and I jump up and start dressing. Hogwarts today. Everything begins today. The last eleven years have merely been the prologue, and it's time to begin the story.
It's silent as I check the mirror and look over myself. Black curly hair, silvery-blue eyes, fairly lithe body... I'll be a beauty as an adult, but as a child, I look slightly fey. I look like an effing Mary Sue in fact, but then from what I've found out about them, all Blacks look like this; exotic eyes, black hair, good body... I don't have anything to complain about, not really.
A few minutes work and I'm wearing a ponytail to keep my long hair out of the way. I have on a white shirt, black trousers and my favourite jacket which is black with silver highlights. I pack a few final bits and pieces into my trunk, making sure that my potions note-book and One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi; extended edition (a potions/herbology encyclopedia) are at the top. I'll be working on that on the train. All set. I lift my trunk easily, courtesy of a feather-light enchantment, and walk out my bedroom.
Into a riot of colours and noise. Crossing a silencio barrier is always jarring. I'm in the residential quarters, so there aren't too many people around as most of the work is done at night. Nevertheless as I walk out, people say hello to me in various states of dress; some dressing, some undressing. None of it's new to me and even if it was, I'm too young to be affected by hormones and too old to be affected by embarrassment.
I arrive in the cantina, and sit between a bulky brown haired guy wearing black security robes and a thirty year old blond woman (who looks twenty) who is dressed in an overcoat to protect the red silks she is wearing underneath.
"Hi Keela." The man greets me in a deep voice. "Excited for Hogwarts?"
"Hi Jacob. You bet, I can't wait to get at that library!" The woman rolled her eyes at me.
"You seem like such a Ravenclaw sometimes."
"Hypocrite, I've seen you with your charms treatise. How's the mastery going by the way, still on track?" I started to tuck into my breakfast which just appeared before me.
She smiled. "Yeah, I'll be done with it by the time you finish your first year. Still need to pick an idea for my signature spell though."
"You've always liked high altitudes, maybe something to do with wind or lowering air pressure." Because I hadn't though long and hard on this at all.
"That could work. I'll think about it. I'm off to bed now though, it'll be a long night tonight. Lots of child-free parents. See you at Christmas." She winked at me and walked off, her habitual sway showing itself.
"Bye Sylvie!" I called. I ate in silence for the next few minutes, waving goodbye to Jacob when he left for work. I had just finished when I got tapped on the shoulder. I turned around to find a tall, black haired woman behind me. For all her beauty, she still looked imposing and intimidating in her dark leather, with various sharp implements attached to her. The whip in one hand only accentuated the feel. She seemed like the sort of person who gained happiness from squishing people like bugs.
I hugged her. After rocking back from the force (I'd jumped from my chair to reach her), she put her arms around me. She smelled faintly of leather, as always. "I'm glad I got to see you one last time, Abi." I said, muffled slightly. For all her imposing demeanor (which she worked hard on), she was still my favourite person here. She wasn't a mother, but she was definitely a big sister.
"Well you're in luck," she said as I raised my head to look in her blue eyes. "I'm the one taking you to the station." I blinked in surprise, before hugging her extra hard and thanking her. "Come now, you didn't think no-one would see you off, did you. Everyone should have someone to wave to from the train."
"Well, I've eaten, so lets go. There's someone I want to meet." It was part of the reason I hadn't really wanted anyone to take me. People would ask questions, but Abi... "Harry Potter."
She raised her eyebrow at me. She knew I wasn't a Harry Potter fan; aside from the one I had bought as a comedy (though it was billed as adventure), I had turned my nose up at them and loudly denounced them. I wasn't a Dumbledore fan either, so she knew it couldn't be that. That left... "I hope you'll go easy on the poor boy, Keela," she said with a smirk.
"Depends how much he can take." I smirk back at her.
"That's my line," she admonished me, chuckling.
I shrug. "If the collar fits." Our eyes meet quickly before we both burst into laughter. It's ignored by those around us, even though it takes a minute to regain ourselves.
"Come on." She says slipping a hand into mine and pulling me along. I grab my trunk and we take off, weaving through the people as we make our way to the staff floo. "Ready?" She asks, and I nod. I take a pinch of floo powder and throw it in.
"Platform Nine and Three Quarters, Student!" I step in and after a long ten seconds, am spat back out. Thanks to my not stopping walking, I land on my feet (albeit not entirely steadily). I turn around and a few seconds later my trunk comes flying out. I let it land on the floor instead of trying to catch it - lightening it doesn't change it's mass, as I found out to my pain a few years ago. The fire turns back normal for a second, before turning green again and spitting Abi out.
We stepped to the side immediately, as per floo protocol, before looking around. It was only ten, so while it was very busy, it wasn't full. It looked like you would expect it would; semi-organised chaos. Parents, pets and pupils everywhere. We lingered for a while, before I lead her out towards the muggleborn entrance; the wall leading the King's Cross Station. "Come on," I said, before walking out through the entrance.
I alone for less than a second before she came through. "Why this side?" She asked.
"Harry Potter was hidden with his relatives. Everyone on the magical side checks out, and I doubt there's anyone he's related to on his father's side Dumbledore trusts with him anyway; all the closest ones are Blacks, and we're grey at lightest. On his mother's side is her muggle sister Petunia. You know that time a couple of years ago I managed to get away from you all? I had managed to find him. It was only a quick chat, as he had muggle school, but it was enough. He's not very Slytherin; he wears his heart on his sleeves." Well, around those who show him affection, anyway; when Dudley came around he clammed up like anything, and I think he may have gotten punished because of me so I didn't meet him again. From I could tell the punishment was merely unpleasant, but I tipped of the local social services before I came back home. As far as I know, nothing came of it, and he probably won't even remember me, but I'll find out today. "Besides, this is a great way to meet new people. I can help all those new muggleborn."
She shook her head and chuckled. "I don't see how anyone can deny you're a Slytherin."
"Well, I plan on making friends with muggleborn, which isn't exactly the standard MO for them. Besides, I'm hoping to get into Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. Far less suspicious." I winked at her.
We both fell quiet and waited by the entrance, watching the various people going by. It's a hobby of mine when I have nothing to do and am in crowded places; watch people and pretend to be Sherlock, trying to figure out what they're like.
Twenty minutes later, after three lawyers, a family coming home from a beach holiday, an accountant, a bartender and a teenage college student, the first muggleborn arrived. Well, the first first-year; there were four from elder years, who didn't need my help. I wasn't sure if the universe was mocking me or helping me; the muggleborn had wild bushy brown hair and was carrying a book. She was fairly plain, not the type to grow into a beauty, but she would likely be pretty in the nerdy girl-next-door kind of way when she grew up. Though with magic I knew she would easily be able to change that (though I doubted she would). The parents both had short brown curly hair, looking more like siblings than a couple. When they slowed and started looking around I walked towards them. The parents noticed me first, pointing me out to their daughter. I stopped a few feet from them and waved and bounced. "Hi, I'm Aquila. Do you need help going through?" I asked brightly. My 'cute little girl' look was a lot more realistic than it used to be. Being an eleven year old girl helps that a lot.
The father smiled at me. Sure, I'm Dan Granger, this is my wife Emma and our daughter Hermione." He gestured at each one. Odd, he wasn't touching them.
Hermione stepped up, somehow looking both bossy and shy. "I'm Hermione. I'm so fascinated by magic have you done any yet? I've read all my books and I'm afraid I might not measure up to those who've had magic all my life and-" I cut her off by gently placing two fingers over her mouth. Her eyes went cross-eyed looking at my hand.
"I've done a bit of magic, having had the benefit of living in the wizarding world, but it's only a few spells. I've read through all my books, but I doubt many have so you're probably ahead in that. Many muggleborn start every year and some of them are our greatest spellcasters, so I'm sure you'll do fine." I smirked at her. "It sounds like you're destined for Ravenclaw, which is where those you love knowledge go." A white lie; Hermione was as much of a bull-headed Gryffindor as the rest of the canon trio, but if I can get her there I'll be able to temper that trait easier.
She frowned at me before stepping away from my hand. "Gryffindor sounds better because that's where heroes go like Headmaster Dumbledore. He's amazing, have you read about him? He's beat Grindelwald! And-" I stepped forward once to place my fingers back on her mouth. It was proving an effective silencing tactic.
"Gryffindor is where those who are bull-headed and like the spotlight go. The only reason it seems like all the heroes come from there is because the other houses tend to fade into the background, rather than rushing at the front of the charge. Being known for being loyal, curious or ambitious does not make you any less heroic than you already are. Dumbledore is Dumbledore, not Hermione Granger. You should go where you fit. And of course I know about Dumbledore, he's a famous figure in the wizarding world. Any person who grew up around magic would know about him and about how he fought Grindelwald. It would be like not knowing who Hitler was." My small speech was calm and rational. I'd had several versions of it planned out for a couple of years now, prepared for when I met her. All in the hope of making the right first impression (and first manipulations). I looked over at the adults, and all three were looking at us in amusement (Abi was still by the wall a couple dozen feet away).
She stepped back. "How did you know I was a Hogwarts student anyway? I suppose I gave away the muggleborn part, but I'm not showing any signs of magic am I? I cast a few spells at home, and they seemed to work, but have they left something on me? Can you see magic? I've read about-" My fingers are on her lips again.
"You have a trunk, are eleven and are looking around between platforms nine and ten. You also have a wand. Well done with the magic, others often have trouble, but you won't be able to do that next year due to the restrictions to under-age magic. I can't see magic, the only way to do that is through charms or enchanted items. Some people do develop a sixth sense of magic however, particularly against hostile magic.
She stepped back again. "Why do you keep doing that? It's irritating." She stopped, clearly expecting me to move forward again. I didn't, and instead merely grinned.
"You don't seem to need to breath, and if you ask multiple questions without giving people time to answer, they'll either get annoyed, forget the questions, or both. It seemed an effective way of getting some time to answer." I checked my watch. "It's twenty to Eleven now. I told them. You can go through now if you want to, or wait with me. I'll be out here for another ten minutes or so."
Hermione blinked in confusion. "Why are you here? And alone?" She asked, only just now realising that it was odd for an eleven year old to walk up to them.
"I'm not alone." I said, pointing to Abi. She waved at the Grangers when they looked at her. "And I'm waiting for someone. He's..." I trailed off, spotting a certain group of four people I had been looking out for. A fat walrus-like man, a thin horse-faced woman, an obese kid (who had around three times the waist he should have), and a small, messy black haired boy with glasses and oversized clothing. Harry looked like the poster child for homeless kids. No wonder Mrs Weasley felt the urge to mother him. He looked years younger than he should have. Thank god I brought clothes for him in my trunk. As I watched, the 'family' stopped, the fat man (what was his name? V-something) spat a few words, and the three left leaving Harry behind to look wildly around. I turned back to the Grangers "and here is the person I've been waiting for. I suggest you leave for the train, but if you want to save a compartment Hermione, me and Harry will come join you." She blinked in surprise, then nodded. Her parents nodded, then beckoned Hermione along. As they left, I shared a look with Abi. She knew something was off with Harry now; her job made rapid character appraisals vital, and she hadn't liked what she'd seen with Harry. And she knew I was expecting it. I'd probably escaped a talking-to for now, but we'd be having a chat about this at Christmas.
I walked towards Harry and intercepted him as he made his way towards the guard. "He's a muggle, he wouldn't know anything about platform nine and three quarters." His relief was almost comical. "I'm Aquila Black."
"Harry Potter," he said, almost ready to cringe, expecting a fan girlish reaction. Instead, of course, I just nodded, and walked him over to his stuff. "The famous one?" I asked, acting unsure.
"Er, y-yeah." He said, stuttering.
"Don't stutter," I chided playfully, "You've nothing to be ashamed of." He closed his mouth and looked down, clearly disagreeing with me. By Merlin, building up his self-confidence was going to be hell. At least Hermione can fake it. I glanced at Abi and she got my message, meeting us at his stuff with my trunk. She took out a wand and tapped his trunk. He glanced at it and then went to pick it up.
"Whoa," he said, unbalancing at the unexpected lack of weight.
"Featherlight charm." Abi explained. "It'll only last for a quarter hour or so, but that'll be long enough for you to get it on the train.
"Thanks Mrs Black." He said. Me and Abi froze, before looking at each other.
"I'm not her mother." Abi said, quirking a smile. Harry looked terrified at that. People always are intimidated by Abi.
"Oh, sorry. It's just that- well - you look similar, so..." He's right, we do look similar. Black hair, fairly tall, both confident... hell, even our outfit's were similar; hers just looked like an 'adult' version of mine. Huh, well, I always did see her as a role model.
"It's OK," said Abi. "Time for you to get on the train. Your owl should be able to find you there if she like you." Harry immediately let Hedwig out of her cage.
"What's her name?" I asked. Don't want to call by her name when I haven't been told it.
"Hedwig." He answered.
"Come on, let's go." I said, pulling him by the hand. He barely had time to freeze at the contact, or even at the wall, before I dragged him through. Once through, I stopped, allowing him to calm down after being dragged through a wall.
"What was that?" He exclaimed.
"A fake wall. It's the pillar between platforms nine and ten. There's a few wizarding trains that stop in this station, those this platform is only open six times a year; for the Hogwarts Express." I explained, waving a hand towards the train. It was impressive, as his 'whoa' showed, but I've never been one for trains, so I didn't really care about it. I looked around and the Granger adults were standing sans daughter; she had already got on. Brilliant. I let go of Harry, and turned around to face Abi, who had come through behind us with my trunk. We smiled at each other and exchanged a hug. "I'll miss you." I said, by eyes tearing up.
"And I you. But I expect weekly owls." I nodded, before stepping away and trying my eyes. I grabbed my trunk and turned around. Harry was still looking at the platform, although from the look on his face I suspected he hadn't been as oblivious to our exchange as he looked. Abi stepped up and ruffled his hair. He startled, looking up at her. "Look after yourself kid." She said. he nodded dumbly, not expecting the affection in her voice. Good old Abi.
I grabbed his hand with my free hand and pulled. "Come on, time to go scar-head." We weaved our way through the crowd, dodging pets, trunks and people, before finally stepping onto the carriage. "I've got someone reserving a compartment for us. She an eleven year old girl, with wildly bushy brown hair, probably with a book of some sort." He nodded, and we slowly made our way down the train, checking into compartments. Two minutes later...
"Is this her?" Harry asked, pointing through a door. I looked; one bushy brown haired girl reading a book. Bingo.
"Yup," I said, sliding the door open. "Hi again. This is my other friend." If I hadn't expected it I'd I'd quite possibly have missed the shock they both showed over being called a friend. "Hermione Granger, meet Harry Potter." She opened her mouth and I immediately placed two fingers over it. "The only things books have gotten right about him is that he has a scar and that he was the only survivor that night. Anything else concerning him is speculation or outright fantasy, as he grew up with muggles." I looked over at Harry, who clearly wasn't sure what to make of the interaction. "Hermione's a bit bossy and doesn't seem to need to breathe, so she'll talk a lot if you let her. But she's friendly and means well." God, the temptation to make a joke about her making her future boyfriends happy was is to resist. I placed my trunk On a seat, before taking Harry's and doing the same. He was still a little stunned. Hermione didn't seem to know what to say either.
I sat down, dragging Harry down next to me, and decided to break the ice. "I'm looking forward to charms and defence against the dark arts the most. I love the things that can be done with a wand, and I'm interested in becoming a duelist." It seems fascinating, and will be a good cover for my training. "How about you two?"
Hermione spoke first. "History of magic seems like it will be amazing, I can't wait to learn about all the wizarding world. And transfiguration look interesting, even if I have no idea how the physics of that work."
I chuckled lightly. "It's magic Hermione, for the most part physics doesn't live around here" Not quite true; from what I can tell, there's just more dimensions involved in 'magic' than in normal life, though I've got no idea how to test that. And it's not as though that explains anything; it's kinda like saying 'flying is a three-dimensional movement; it still doesn't explain how to fly.
"I like the look of potions the most. I like cooking, and the things you can make with it seem cool," said Harry. I hadn't remembered him liking potions pre-Snape. Still this makes things easier.
"You'll have to study hard at that then. The Professor is a potions genius, and geniuses are crap teachers. Apparently he hates kids." The look on Hermione's face when I told her a professor hates kids was hilarious. I moved to my trunk and started rummaging. "In fact..." I took out my Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi and my potions notebook. "The place I grew up in had a potions master, so I know plenty already. This is the extended edition of the book on the school list; it has lots of potions tips the regular one doesn't. My notebook is where I re-write potions recipes, including the hints. My potions textbook is already scribbled over, but with my note-book I can make extensive changes. I even managed to make a very simple colour-changing potion, albeit with help; my first few drafts would have blown up." Hermione looked impressed and likely would have grabbed the encyclopedia if I wasn't holding onto it. Harry looked interested too. I handed him the bigger book (I measured it; it's got five inches of pages), and Hermione the notebook. She had gotten out her potions book and was starting to compare my recipes to the official versions.
Within five minutes we were comparing the recipes together and I was explaining to the two of them my thoughts on them. We picked through the potions book and half an hour later Harry and Hermione were starting to modify their first potion; a cream for the removal of calluses.
We were all on the floor with all of our potions books out, when the door opened. Standing there was a fidgeting, slightly pudgy, blond wizard. "Errr, h-hi." He stuttered. He gulped, clearly very nervous. "H-Have you seen a toad. My toad's gone and I err, well... Can't find him." So this is Neville. Doesn't look like much, but one thing stands out to me. He's clearly terrified, but he's still gone walking along the train looking for his toad. I remember one of my favourite sayings; bravery is not lack of fear, but the overcoming of fear. Based on this alone, Neville's a true Gryffindor.
"What's the toad's name?" I ask.
"T-Trevor." He replies.
I draw my wand and cast my first spell of the day. "Accio Trevor the toad." I feel my magic reach out and grab. Wonderful. "You may want to step in." He does so just in time as a toad zooms through the door into my empty hand. "I present Trevor the toad."
He smiles at me in relief. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. Do you have to go back to your compartment, or can you stay here?"
"I - I can stay here." He says, his eyes wide in surprise. Merlin, I'm the only one here with self-confidence.
"Come on in then and shut the door." He does so and awkwardly sits on the floor, joining us. "This is Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, and I'm Aquila Black." He freezes up, either at Harry's name or mine. Ah, mine - his eyes dart to me quickly, which I pretend not to notice. "What's yours?"
"N-Neville Longbottom." There's a round of hellos around the compartment. When they stop, a moment of silence fills the room before I speak up. "We're looking into potions and trying to think of ways to change the recipes. Do you know why the dandelion ash in the cream for curing calluses has to be from young daffodils?" His eyes almost light up as we cross onto a subject that he knows and loves; herbology. Excellent.
The four minute talk on dandelions and the effects and uses in potions is honestly amazing - it's more than I know about them, and cements his place as a herbology prodigy. With that, the ice is broken, and we fall into an easy dynamic where Neville knows the herbs, Hermione knows the Potions, I know the common potion mistakes and Harry is the one who is actually gifted with potions; I'll have to make sure Snape doesn't crush that.
Hours later, we've moved past potions and are now into clothes of all things. We're comparing wizarding and muggle clothes, and the things that magic can do to them. Hermione had done her repairo trick on Harry's glasses after I explain how that spell doesn't work well on fabric. We also talk about the different 'fashion' between the two cultures; mine and Nevilles clothes are clearly not machine made, for example. Harry's clearly uncomfortable by this point due to wearing Dudley's cast-offs, so I take his hand and pull him out the door into the corridor. A quick look is all I get from the other two - they're both smart, so they've noticed Harry's fidgeting. Thankfully the corridor is empty.
I could never think of a good way to break the subject, so I decided to be blunt. "You don't like the clothes that you're wearing, do you?" He looked up in shock, before staring at his shoes.
"They're fine," he protested halfheartedly.
"Yeah, 'fine' to you clearly means 'about to fall apart.'" He cringed, so I take his hand and stroke it. He still jerks at the touch. At the back of my mind I note that as not a good sign. "Lucky for you, I have spare clothes that will fit you." He looks up in shock. "They aren't my size, but I was given them so I couldn't exactly turn them away. I dislike wasting things that can be used, so I brought them in my trunk hoping to give them to someone who could use them." Lies. Well, about how I got them. Me disliking throwing away useful stuff is true. I'm a pack-rat that way.
"Uh... I couldn't accept-" He's clearly not used to getting gifts.
"Look, Harry. You're rich, and I'm richer, so this isn't a big deal for me. And if me giving you a gift troubles you that much, look at it as a late birthday present. Especially since we're family." His head shoots up to stare me in the eyes in shock.
"Your grandmother is Dorea Black. Hello Cousin." His mouth curled into a surprised smile. "Neville's your godbrother too - Your mothers were best friends in Hogwarts, and your mothers are the others' godmothers. It's just a shame you couldn't grow up together." His mouth was in a full grin now. "Wait one moment." I open the door and step in. A quick rummage through my trunk later and I have the correct wrapped package. I step out again, closing the door. I hand the package to Harry. "Happy belated birthday, Harry."
Harry's starting to get teary, and clearly doesn't want me to see. "Thank you."
"Now, lets find a toilet and let you get changed." It takes less than a minute - there's one each carriage. He goes in while I wait outside. Ten seconds later, I start to wonder if there's a deity watching my life.
"Heir Malfoy." I announce, stopping him (and his bodyguards) as he walks past. "My name is Aquila Black, it's a pleasure to meet you." My surname is what truly grabs his attention. He takes hold of my outstretched hand and places a kiss on it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Heir Black." He knows who I am, good. That will make things easier. "How are you finding the trip so far, my cousin?"
"Interesting. I've met an interesting group of people."
"Oh? And who might that be?" He asks, faithfully following the cue.
"Hermione Granger, an intelligent muggleborn, Neville Longbottom, who seems to be a herbology prodigy, and the boy-who-lived himself, Harry Potter." Now I truly got his interest.
"Seems like an excellent choice of companions, if not for the mudblood." I grimace.
"Now Draco - I may call you Draco, yes?" He nods. "Don't be so uncouth, it's below our station to use such ugly words. We are sophisticated, we should not lower ourselves to base insults." He grits his teeth slightly at my reprimand, but jerks his head to show he gets his point. "Besides, why insult them? That'll just make them unhappy, and unhappy subordinates are unproductive subordinates." I've practiced for this conversation, and I glad of it. These words will set the tone of the rest of my interaction with Draco, and I only get one shot with this. "And like I said, she's a smart one. She'll get good book grades, and you know that the Dumbledore will love that. She's got brains; it doesn't make her any better, just makes her more useful."
"True, I just don't like it when the mud-muggleborns get ideas above their station." I've appeased him, but not yet convinced him.
"The solution there is to make them happy where they are. And if they're clever, well; you put them to work doing more complex work. But we are of pure blood Draco. We are inherently better, so there's no need to fear them." I wonder if this is how Lucius feels when talking to Fudge. It's easy to manipulate the poor boy. Of course, Draco's eleven; Fudge doesn't have that excuse.
"Won't treating them well give them the impression that you like them?" He asked.
"Well, yes, but what's that harm in that? It'll just make them more likely to like you. And people always do more for people they like." At that point the bathroom door opens, and Harry steps through. He's almost a different person; it's true that the clothes make the man. He's wearing black trousers with a white shirt, while green highlights on the cloth bring out his eyes. The enchanted comb from the package has gotten his hair straight, and he's no longer slumped. Unfortunately, he's clearly heard the entire conversation, and his eyes are burning with fury and confusion at my seeming duplicity. I slip my hand through his left arm and lean close. "Play along," I whisper in his ear. I straighten back up and formally introduce the two of them. "Heir Malfoy, this is Heir Potter, a friend." Draco's glance at me tells me that's he's caught me informally allying my house with Harry's, but it doesn't affect his reply.
"Heir Potter it is an honour to meet you." He holds out his hand.
Harry shakes it. A glance at him tells me he doesn't want to, but only because I spent the last few hours carefully watching him. To Draco's eyes, he likely looks like a 'proper pureblood.' "Heir Malfoy. Likewise."
"I'm glad you two are getting along. Two such powerful people should always work together to accomplish even greater things than you could alone. After all, you are your own men, and do not need to rely on others for your strength." A lie and (to Harry) blatant flattery, but Draco laps it up. It prevents Draco from making any presumptuous offers of 'guidance,' especially since I'm already here; to do so now would imply both that I am ignorant (for not being able to provide guidance) and Harry weak (for needing said guidance). If only I was a seer, then my glimpses of the future would continue to provide me with help like this.
For now though, it's time to separate them before Harry explodes or Malfoy does something insulting. "It's been a pleasure to meet you Draco. I'll see you at Hogwarts." I did a slight bow.
"And it has been a pleasure meeting you Aquila, Heir Potter." He bowed to us.
"And it has been a pleasure meeting you, Heir Malfoy." Harry stiffly bowed.
Ten seconds later, I pulled Harry into an empty compartment and waited. It only took one second, though he wasn't as forceful as I expected. Not confident enough, I suppose. "What was that? I mean, you're friendly with Hermione when you're with her, but then you meet Draco and suddenly you're all high and mighty, and insulting Hermione behind her back as 'lesser.'"
"Firstly, I want you to know that I don't believe that. I believe she is just as capable a witch as Draco is, if not more. The only difference being directly descended from wizards does is give your magic talents in certain ways. However, that was not about me liking Hermione. It was not about me not liking Draco. That was about politics."
Harry's lip curls. "Politics?" He asks, disgust filling his voice.
"Yes. Think about what I just achieved Harry. Firstly, Draco will treat muggleborn better. His reasons don't matter, all that matters is that he does. That's significant antagonism removed from our year. That'll have a knock-on effect on all of Slytherin house, which is known for treating muggleborns poorly. It might even have a knock-on effect on his father, who is the most important pro-pureblood politician in Europe. Second, it'll establish me as a moderate; The light, or liberalist, side will like me for not being bigoted, while the dark, or traditionalist, side will like me for supposedly viewing purebloods as 'better.' That's significant political opposition removed from my path, no matter what I decide to do.
It'll even affect you three, as Hermione will be viewed as 'under my wing,' kind of like a personal aide. Neville won't have to worry about Slytherins going after him for being an easy target - he's got the friendship of a Black, and we're known for being vindictive against those who hurt our friends. And you are the boy-who-lived, who has been made into the poster-child for the light side since that Halloween night. Never mind that you were a baby at the time; Dumbledore, the leader of the liberalists, decided that your parent's deaths made you the perfect example of someone who fought against the dark and sacrificed everything. The fact that you were a baby, and thus couldn't have any views at all made you perfect for that. What I just did, established you as a moderate. It'll take time, but people won't see you as Dumbledore's boy.
It even made Malfoy more open to cooperation from us. Malfoys are schemers. They plot and they plan. Right now, Malfoy is thinking on how we can make his plots and plans even greater. And when he asks us how to 'put mudbloods in their place,' we can turn that into a 'make muggleborns happy where they want to be.' What's more, Draco is now thinking of striking out on his own; he'll rely on advice from his master politician of a father far less now. That means any schemes he comes up with will be far more easy to disrupt; with independence comes far fewer resources."
By the end of my little speech Harry's mouth is hanging open. It should; I've been planning out my political position for almost a decade. The one I've chosen should allow me to gain friends and allies across the political spectrum. And both the previous conversation and my 'little' explanation have been practiced until I had them memorised, they were that important. After all, the past twenty minutes have helped set the tone for my social and political interactions for the rest of my life. Draco was important not because of what he knew, but who he knew.
"I..." He's lost for words. I giggle at him, spoiling my serious image. "That's... amazing."
"Thank you." I smile at him. "I hope you paid attention though, because as the boy-who-lived, you're going to have to deal with politics." His grimace turns my smile into a grin, and I hugged him. He froze, which I ignored. When he untensed (it took a while), I said softly into his ear. "I don't want you to be mad at me. You, Neville and Hermione are the only friends I have my age." Emotional manipulation, but true. And this is the first hug he's had since being a baby, I don't want it corrupted by anger.
"I... It's alright. You're my first friend, and I don't want to be mad at you." First friend at eleven. That's sad. No wonder he was so willing to forgive Ron in the OTL. He's almost awkward in the hug, but he clearly wanted it. I held him for a while more, and then let go after a minute, after he had surreptitiously dried his eyes.
"Come on, let's get back to the others."
It was in the last hour that the last big train subject came up; Hogwarts Houses.
Hermione spoke up. "I was thinking Ravenclaw for my house, but it doesn't seem like any of you are for that house."
"We'll still be friends, even if or when we're in different houses," I assured her. "It's done, just not often."
"I'll probably be going to Hufflepuff,' moped Neville.
"Good for you." I said. He looked at me in confusion. I've never got why they're looked down on. Loyalty and hard work? Seems to me like they're tailor made for great friends."
"Yeah, but my gran wants me to get into Gryffindor, like my parents. I'm not brave enough though, I'm too afraid of everything." I scoffed loudly at that.
"Neville, bravery isn't the absence of fear, it's the overcoming of it. You went from door to door looking for your toad, despite shaking in your shoes. In that moment, you were one of the bravest people on the train." He smiled, encouraged. "But you shouldn't go because you're gran wants you to. From what you've said about her, she seems to be wanting you to turn into your father. I can tell you, good parents don't want their children to be carbon copies of them. And I can tell you you're parents would have wanted you be your own person, with you're own priorities. And Hufflepuff is known for prioritising their friends above all. I don't know about you, but that seems like a darn good trait to me." He grinned, clearly buoyed up by my pep talk. "Personally I hope to get into Hufflepuff, though Slytherin seems more likely for me. Though maybe Ravenclaw."
Harry blinked in shock. Hagrid's comments about Slytherin clearly running through his mind. "Why? Don't dark wizards come from there?" I laugh lightly.
"Harry, dark wizards come from every house. It's just that most of the active ones come from Slytherin. A lot of dark wizards come from Ravenclaw too, it's just they only do it for the forbidden knowledge. And that reputation is why I would prefer Hufflepuff; who would expect a 'cunning duffer?' Slytherin are also known for rejecting muggleborns. I checked, and there hasn't been a muggleborn Slytherin for decades." Since a certain Tom Riddle, officially. Although considering his heritage, he doesn't actually count, though considering what a squib his mother was maybe he should. "And Gryffindor's definitely out for me. They're known for being brave and honourable. While I can be brave, I prefer to avoid fights and stab them in the back, which is definitely not honourable. Hufflepuff's good for me for the same reason; I value my friends over what society says I should and should not do. And Gryffindor's the poster boys for the 'light' too. They're supposedly the 'heroic' house to Slytherin's 'evil' house."
"I was thinking Gryffindor, but it seems like Hufflepuff would suit me better," said Harry. Just what I was hoping for. "I value my friends more than what some politician says." He looks at me when he says this, and I grin at him for it.
At that point, the train slowed down and we got off, having already changed.
I stood in a bundled line of nervous children as we waited to enter the hall. I was perhaps the only one not shuffling or fidgeting, and even then I was barely keeping a hold of my nerves. Hermione was talking about the Hogwarts ghosts that had come through to a shaken Harry.
"How are you so calm?" whispered Neville.
"I'm not calm." I said softly back, Harry and Hermione hearing. "I'm just pretending to be. I suggest you three the same." He gulped, and stood back. The three of them started to start breathe slower, just in time for McGonagall to come through and usher us into the great hall.
It was a magnificent place, and I made sure to take everything in. The song's hat jarred me and I listed along, humming along with it once I got the tune. Hannah Abbot was called first, poor girl. She took a couple of seconds before going to Hufflepuff and then...
"Black, Aquila." I took a deep breath and strode out across the great hall. My name had caused whispers; "She's Sirius Black's daughter," or "I heard she was actually Bellatrix Lestrange's daughter." Soon enough, I was sitting on the stool.
Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Hufflepuff, Huffle-.
Oh no, not-so-little one. It may work that way for younger minds, but your mind is not so one-dimensional. You can't just trick me into putting you where you want me to.
Isn't that what you are supposed to do?
No. I have two purposes. To help students become all they can be, and to protect the wizarding world.
I'm slightly surprised by the last statement, but when I think on it, who better to watch over the world than the one who saw them as children?
Exactly. Students may be able to sway me into choosing a different house for them, but the wizarding world is my responsibility. And you...
Me what?
You have so much potential. But it is only potential, and to force you would achieve nothing. So you have a choice. Save your Friends... Or Save the World.
But.. I... I can't...
You can choose, and you already have. You have only to acknowledge it to yourself.
I... Very well... The world. I'm always a greater good person, in the end. Because I'm never a good person.
I wish I could say your sacrifice will be remembered with honour, but it won't. Not where you're going in...
"SLYTHERIN!"
I take off the hat and blink at the light, before stepping towards the green table. It is applauding me, the only one to do so. The next seven years are not going to be fun.
I applaud the next few, making sure to particularly congratulate those who choose Slytherin. And then...
"Granger, Hermione." She goes up, and sits. And sits. And sits. She sits for a very long time, and as the minutes pass I start to get a bad feeling. Neither Ravenclaw nor Hufflepuff would would be this hard for her to get into. I know she fits Gryffindor. The only reason for her sorting to take this long is-
"SLYTHERIN!" Clapping begins at my table as they automatically applaud to the word, but it is halfhearted at best. Meanwhile, I am having a minor panic attack.
Shit, shite, merde. I should have known that saying muggleborns don't go into Slytherin would be like waving a red flag in front of a bull. I pat the place next to me, which is thankfully still empty. As she sits grinning with triumph, I lean into her, ignoring the rest of the sorting. "Hermione, stay silent and listen. I don't know if you know what you've done, but you've kicked the snake nest. You've done the equivalent of a jew living with a bunch of nazis. From now in, you're in danger." Her smile starts to fade, and her eyes are starting to widen. "From now on, don't expect help from more than a quarter of the school. The occasional Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw will help, but they will be outnumbered by the number of Pureblood Slytherins who are disgusted to share the same air with you, and would happily kill and rape you if they could away with it. And now you'll you'll be living in the same dorm as them!" I barely notice when Neville is called up. "Your best bet is to act as my subordinate when in public. Think personal aide." She opened her mouth. "Don't speak." She shut her mouth, as 'SLYTHERIN!' is called out in the distance. "I won't expect it in private, and you won't have to do much in public, just as long as you make sure not to argue with me where other people can see. If they think you're under my control, regardless of whether you are or not, then maybe, just maybe, you'll survive the next few years." I'm terrified for the foolish little girl, and she can hear it in my voice.
"She's right." I jolt at the familiar voice and there, opposite me, is Neville. Neville Longbottom, a Slytherin. Oh merlin. I don't know if that's better or worse. At least he'll be there to help me protect Hermione. I glance at the hat just in time to see Harry go under it. I'm filled with dread and-
"SLYTHERIN!"
Shit shite merde.
A/N: So, this a gender-bent Self-Insert. To those of you wondering why, well... I was reading a Harry Potter SI one day, and thought to myself 'why aren't there more dark/evil self-inserts'? There's a few, but often the ones where they take over the world/area/dimension or kill/torture/enslave people are either crack, or overpowered. So I turned to the morbid idea of how to turn myself into a dark lord. And when I was writing, I started wondering if me being female would help that along. Hence, Aquila. And can I just say, describing a Black is hell, because all the canon Blacks' appearances sound like Mary/Gary Sues (pre-Azkaban, anyway).
Expect the almighty butterfly to make many changes. As an example; In 1989, Ludo Bagman was late for an healer's check-up. As a result, he never got to talk to Amelia Weathers as she left the office beforehand, and thus he never dated her. When she became the secretary of Cornelius Fudge six months later, she thus did not give Ludo Bagman a meeting with the Minister of Magic. So when Ludo Bagman ran for the position of Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports, he was instead passed over for Marvin Montague. End Result: Expect the Triwizard Tournament to have different tasks.
All caused by a nine-year old Aquila Black tripping over a shoe.