Actually, this poem is meant for the next chapter, but ah well. And it's not written by me, I'm not this good.

The Unicorn is wrongly named
A description will tell why.
Silver hooves upon the ground
Wing tips brush the sky.

The sight of his eyes
Is quite unusual and rare.
They give off the feelings
Of warmth, love, and care.

The mane is melted gold
A flame against the blue
Matched only by his tail
Which is the same fiery hue.

The horn is the most
Mystical of all
Rainbow it is colored
Magic is its call.

Gentle is his nature
Never has he sinned.
As everyone can see
He's the Spirit of the Wind.

It was the first day after the Christmas Break and the crowds of students pouring in to the Great Hall were as rambunctious and excited as ever, but that did not stop a confused, quieting thrill from running through the students at they saw the Sorting Hat lying on its usual stool, looking as calm as you please.

"Someone is to be sorted!"

"But it is not the start of a new year, what is going on?"

"Not a first year, that can't be, right?"

"I wonder who would the new comer be?"

Once everyone was properly seated and settled down, Headmaster Dippet stood up to address the intrigued and curious population of the magical school, "I am very pleased to announce that we have a new student who would be joining us from Scotland to spend the rest of his schooling career here, starting from sixth year. I give you - Mister Ronald Kelestral.'

Ron stepped forward from where he had been hidden in the shadows all these while and was greeted by a warm, if not slightly hesitant, round of applause.

'I'm sure you all have questions regarding our new addition to the school, but I would like to say that Mister Kelestral has suffered a great loss recently, and is deeply grieved, so please do not pester him about it.' Dippet continued, casting a warning glance at the students, daring them to disobey his indirect order and plea to them.

'Mister Kelestral, if you will,' he said, gesturing towards the sorting hat. Ron nodded, forcefully pasting a slight half smile on his face. He had never imagined that he would have to go through the sorting twice in his life.

How joyful that would be.

Of course, he had tried very hard to talk the Headmaster and Dumbledore out of doing the Sorting Ceremony, but to no avail. They had insisted that if they were playing by his game, he would have play by their rules, and who was he to oppose their combined power and authority, accompanied by their wit and wick?

Lifting the hat carfully and sitting down, he placed it hesitantly on his fiery red hair.

'Ah, curious indeed. I know you, yet I have yet to sort you,' the Hat told him as if it was a completely normal occurrence.

'Oh no, not completely normal, it just take a lot, a lot indeed to shock me. And since there is several plausible explanation to this instance, it is slightly normal to me' the Hat corrected him quickly, surprising Ron.

'Now, where should I put you? You still have quite a bit of your Gryffindor characteristics, of course, it is hard to lose them. But now, there is something else much more there. You have suffered a lot, but I think you will thrive in this time in, perhaps – Slytherin!'

It had shouted the last word out loud to the entire school population.

Ron felt the shock reverberate down his spine to his very toes, but the immaculate, half-smile mask didn't falter a bit on his face. And hence, his horror and confusion were not seen by anyone else, even though he was screaming his head off secretly, and deeply inside.

Maybe under influence of the final battle, he was more Slytherin than he had ever realised. He stood and placed the Hat carefully back down before heading to the table of clapping green-robed students. His eyes swept down the table, but then it was caught by an arrogant set of piercing grey eyes.

He, too, was in sixth year and as his eyes met Ron's, he frowned. He glared the boy in front him to move to create a space, and Ron, though greatly unwilling, slid into a spot opposite him.

'Hi,' he said briskly, turning to look each of his new house mates in the eye. 'I'm Ronald'

'That's a very –common name,' the boy who was sitting right next to him sneered, eyes narrowed and unfriendly.

Ron arched an eyebrow at him, blue eyes turning cold and hard. 'Why, what's yours then, if I may have the utmost honor of knowing?'

'Theodore Grant.' The boy announced proudly, sitting up straighter and taller in his seat.

Scoffing, Ron managed a scathing response, 'Yours sound pretty common enough."

'How dare you - ' Grant hissed at him with clenched fist.

'Oh, shut up, Theodore.' a girl with shiny black hair said, and actually managed to silence the boy.

'He's like that all the time. I am Eileen Prince.' The girl introduced herself, thrusting a hand towards Ron, who shook it briskly before letting go quickly.

'Ignore Theodore, he's a prat,' Eileen said, rolling her eyes. 'This is Carson Nott, Abraxas Malfoy, Leuthon Flint, Sherleen Parkinson and, of course, Tom Riddle.'

She only identified the Slytherin sixth years in their group, ignoring the rest, whose eyes are busily analysing Ron. With a start, Ron realized who the boy sitting in front of him was.

The young Lord Voldermort.

Fury threatened to explode within him but he reined it use trying to kill the dark lord now, for that would definitely throw the entire wizarding world into unbalance and chaos.

Well, he used to be so stupid, but less so now, he would say. And he was definitely smart enough to think about such obvious facts. Ron glanced round at the other sixth years, memorising each face as their name was being announced. Each of the sixth years held out their hand for him to shake, all except for Riddle.

'Who are you?' he asked once the round of hand-shaking was over, his velvet voice taking Ron by surprise.

'Ronald Kelestral, of course' Ron said, adding some surprise and amusement in his voice, being a bit taunting, and slightly indicating that Tom was foolish to ask such a question.

'But that isn't your exact name.' Tom whispered, and Ron faltered slightly. His right hand under the table clenched into a fist as he fought to keep his composure.

'Why would you think that?' He asked, an eyebrow raised, looking perfectly confused, as if the conversation had gotten him lost.

'It doesn't suit you.' Was all that was said, and Ron would have laughed out loud, if the circumstances allowed him to right then.

'Should I be flattered or insulted by your comment?'

'Insulted' Riddle said with a quirk of his lips.

'Great, because damn right I am,' Ron replied icily, even as a chill of a different sort ran down his spine, making his hair stand on end. Of course, he is facing the future dark lord here, obviously he must have the fundamental properties of becoming a dark lord.

Being evil.

'And yet you haven't exploded.' Riddle pointed out.

Ron sniggered then, glancing across the hall to the Gryffindor table where he could see red hair so similar to his among the varying shades of brown and black.

"Who are they?" he asked Eileen, feigning ignorance.

"Oh, they are the Weasleys, or pure-blood traitors, we will say." She spat.

Ron bite back his retort, "Don't they look like me, I wonder. Maybe that's because I am a pure-blood, I guess."

"You are a pure-blood?" Theodore Grant sounded shocked.

'Yes. And I may look like a Weasley, doesn't mean I act like one.'

His new fellow sixth years all smirked in appreciation, each of them absorbed by the conversation, even as they pretended not to be.

'So who do you side on?' Riddle prompted, ignoring the implications of what he had said.

'What side? The light, or the dark? I am afraid that I am more of a neutral type.'

Again, Ron was rewarded with a few more smirks.

'Even after I do things that might change your mind?'

Ron sat back suddenly, aware that he had been leaning across the table towards Riddle as he had been leaning towards him.

'That would really depends on whether the things that you show me are good enough. Riddle. Am I allowed to eat now?' Ron asked plaintively, causing several other sniggers.

Not waiting for a reply, he dug in, quick to appease his growling stomach. Dumbledore had not asked for a lot of details and both he and Dippet had agreed it would be for the better if Ron was introduced to the school at the Christmas feast and should be kept secluded until then.

He had spent all of his time reading, trying to see if there was any difference in the syllabus. Actually, he shouldn't have much problem, since he was just repeating the sixth year.

Again.

Imagine if Hermione see him then. Her expression would have been priceless.

Priceless indeed, but sadly I won't be putting Hermione or Ginny or Harry or Draco into this fic, though I very much want to.

Thanks to Daphne for helping me with the story and all those who are supporting me. Some of my friends hate Slash, and I love it, but thanks to everyone out there for me!

And of course, my favorite reviewers, thank you! :)

REVIEW! OR I'LL SET RIDDLE ON YOU!