Chapter Three

This was the day that all students either returned or journeyed for the first time, to Hogwarts. Harry had calculated everything, from where he would sit on the Hogwarts Express, to his house, and the classes he would take. Hestina Goranov, a former Durmstrang student and a powerful former death eater who escaped the clutches of Azkaban, using her legilimens magic to infect the minds of Wizengamot. . . she was admiral at the least.

Sirius and Remus beamed proudly at him, waving together as he itched to free himself and join his destiny.

Alas, his Godfathers had grown attached to him. Sirius and Remus pulled him close. "Well, Potter, it's been a lot of years." And one year without being constantly interrupted by you checking in on me practicing magic will probably do a lot better than these ten years ever have for me. "There's too much to say right now, so I'll leave you with this little fella." Out of his coat he pulled out a. . . newt.

The creature wasn't any small newt, actually it fit into Sirius's palm exactly. It's back was covered in what looked like dangerous and sharp coals and lava rocks. Harry Potter knew not to touch that part of the creature without protection. Sirius lifted the creature to show its bright orange underside, indicating its dangers.

"Harry, these little creatures are Argentinian Fire Spouting Newts, known to be small but monstrous when attacked. Like you a little bit, aye?" Sirius chuckled as the last warning for the Hogwarts Express rang out. "It's a she by the way, so keep that mind. Here. I'll be seeing you, Harry!" He shouted as Harry pocketed the precious creature and moved toward the train, setting his eyes on a cabin that had only one sharp-gazed platinum blonde boy in it. Voldemort showed him this boy in Harry's night visions. This was Draco Malfoy. Harry was instructed to be close with that family. The Malfoy Family.

"Goodbye, Sirius." Calmly, Harry waved one last time before sitting in the cabin with the Malfoy boy, who placed his harsh stare from the window to Harry, considering if the boy was trash or a useful acquaintance.

Harry had worn a dark green plaid shirt under a long sleeve, brown moto jacket. His pants were crisp black jeans and his shoes were Scott Box calf leather sneakers that he had gotten for his recent birthday. The total outfit was over three thousand pounds, but it didn't matter unless Draco had seen his watch.

The watch had calfskin leather and stainless steel, a honeycomb textured dial and fire resistant plus water resistant clockwork. What really mattered, though, was the engraving on the steel.

Quibuscumque vires suppetebant ad reliquos qui mundus est in derisum tota die. The world is for those who are strong enough to survive its worst. This was the slogan amongst Death Eaters, and though both of the boys were too young to ever had heard it even muttered on the streets, they knew better than anyone what this meant. No one anymore really knew the saying; they had forgotten, it seemed, a now crucial detail was coming back for their consequence.

"So it's true." If silver had a sound it would be this boy's voice; cold and focused and filled with wit. "Father told me, but I guess secretly I didn't think it was possible. You've been. . . trained by Voldemort?" Harry was impressed by how the boy's voice had not shaken, but remained a tone of dignified awe.

"Yes. Since I was nine-years-old." They both smirked.

Draco nodded in admiration and extended his hand. "Well, I suppose you already know, but I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. Call me Draco. . . if you please." Good. He could still recognized his higher even though they were becoming friends. This gesture made Harry grin a little. He reached for the platinum blonde boy's hand.

"Harry Altair Potter. Call me Harry." They gave a firm shake of hands. "So, have you ever seen a Mendoza Fire Spouting Newt? One of the most dangerous creatures in the magical kingdom." Harry asked. Draco shook his head no.

"Father says that the Ministry is trying to ban them. Those fools don't know that they'll probably just end up at Borgin and Burkes anyway if they become banned," he argued. "But no, I've only read about those fascinating creatures." Draco's eyes widened. "Would you have one?"

Once again, Harry smirked. Slowly, he grabbed the safe tail end of his somewhat smallish pet and showed it to Draco. The blonde boy in front of him raised his eyebrows and gawked for a moment before retaining his composure. "Wow. . ." Gathering the lime green and off white tie he had on his chest—as though he already knew he would be a Slytherin— he pressed it to the rough stones of the newt's upperside. The tie was instantly singed by a purple fire, and Draco removed his finger quickly.

Harry sat the Newt back on his lap. "I wasn't sure what to name her before, but now I'm thinking Esmeree. I like that, yes."

"I see. . . my bat's name is Ianthe. Right now she's sleeping, but you can have a peek if you like?" He offered. Harry had never seen a bat up close before. He gestured for his new friend to reveal the creature in the obsidian cage that Harry had previously ignored. Draco, showed him the sleeping animal, but the happiness was cut short as Draco's face began to sour.

"That filthy blood traitor. I hate that the Weasels still go to Hogwarts. Chanson Triste!" Draco brought out his wand and flicked it as the Weasel boy let out a loud shriek before falling on his face. Draco laughed sinisterly, but Harry looked at him, for once, impressed.

"You know those difficult hexes? How?"

Draco smirked. "Father and Mother brought in frequent friends so I could be top of my class once I got to Hogwarts. I always knew that I was only supposed to either be the best or be the best for the best." He grinned. "I think I can work with that."

Harry was genuinely impressed. "Well, Hestina Goranov is going to teach me advanced magic. . . magic this quack school won't mention in the next century. I could speak to Voldemort about getting you a few lessons here and there."Draco couldn't respond because the absolutely filthy fool, Weasel, was now red faced and bounding towards them both..

His face was as red as his hair. "You! You. . . you," he suddenly looked at Harry, who returned the gaze with one colder than ice. Sharper than shards of glass. "I don't remember you. Have you been twisted to the dark side by Malfoy and his wicked propaganda?"

Harry sneered, standing. The boy was about a foot taller than him, but so what? This boy was a blood traitor. He was born with the honorable title of pureblood and he tossed it out of the window to protect the vile muggle and muggleborn.

"I am Harry Altair Potter, and if I ever have the displeasure of meeting you again—or in your practically nonexistent thoughts I appear— you will address me as such. Combined between Draco Malfoy and I we have more magic than your puny little brain could ever comprehend, so stop making this train cabin smell like the underside of a dumpster and leave." Silence hung as everyone stood in shock at the words that hurled from Harry's mouth gracefully.

Weasel made a grab at his wand and hastily fired a spell. "F-F-Flipendo?" It took him a moment to remember maybe a jinx he had heard one of his elders recite. Nonetheless, his aim was twisted, and his voice was quiet. While he aimed for Draco, he flailed and the dark orange blast collided with Harry's chest and sent him lifting almost weightlessly into the air.

The jinx wasn't a correct blast. It soared Harry back instead of up, and he slammed with a horrendous sound into the glass window. "Oh. . ." Ron mumbled, backing away, his face filled with fear. But now, Harry Altair Potter was livid, seeing red and unforgiving. He tore his wand from the floor.

"Tiapond Ondok!" Instantly, the effects showed. Draco's curse gave the victim a sensation that their spine was disintegrating and being set aflame. Weasel cried out in agony, but Draco quickly did a silencing charm, and watched in awe and horror as the boy crumbled to the ground, drooling in his partially alive state. With mobilicorpus, Harry tossed the boy's limp body to a farther sector, glad that the thick glass and shaded windows had protected his reputation.

"Well, that boy was a bother." Harry stated, calmly sitting down and ordering the lot of the treats that came with the trolley witch. It was all piled in simply for the sake of Harry and Draco. They split the cost, equally wealthy and neither willing to deny the wealth it showed to buy out the trolley.

Draco shrugged as the train began to slow and the first year students' cheers could only very faintly be heard through the thick walls. He chewed on some of Drooble's Best Blowing Gum. "The entire Weasley family—Weasel if you will—is a complete joke. From that disappointment who can only land a poor pay job as a curse-breaker in Gringotts, to the new little baby. Ugh, I'll dread it when she appears next year. Ginny, I believe her name is."

Harry sneered, picking himself from the seat. "I believe soon enough I'll complete my training and mudbloods, muggles, and blood traitors alike need not be. . . around anymore." They both chuckled.

"Your aspirations, Harry, are astounding." They both existed the train cabin, ready for the Hogwarts journey to begin.

. . . . . . .

Draco had other friends, Harry learned as the feast began in the Great Hall. The place was ornate with golden walls, copper goblets filled with the butterbeer, pumpkin juice, and even sparkling sugar plum cider as the students wished. There were five tables, each with a banner hanging over it to represent their house.

The meek, timid, and weak of Hufflepuff sported a lousy badger and a honey yellow banner over them as they stuffed their faces with food that their very own Helga Hufflepuff originally made the recipes for.

The witty, clever, and obnoxious Ravenclaws ate calculatingly without noticing their biggest mistake; hanging an eagle instead of a raven for their house.

The Gryffindor table. Filled with embarrassments to the Wizarding World, claiming to be brave, but no stronger than a Hufflepuff when it came to duels.

And, the table that Harry sat with beside Draco, and across some of his friends, Crabbe and Goyle, two oafs who Harry believed were only kept around Draco for protection. Eh.

The fifth table was a giant one that spanned the Great Hall's width, allowing only small spaces for the professors to sit and talk. Minerva McGonagall, the transfiguration professor and head of Gryffindor, who wore long green dress robes and a hat that curved down behind her head. A tight bun and thinly framed black glasses also matched her attire.

There was also Severus Snape, the potions teacher who Harry found was staring quite intently, bordering on bitterly, at him. His hook nose and oily black hair, along with ivory white skin and thick black robes gave him the look of a swooping bird. A raven. It was a look that only men of great power could pull off without being engulfed by the massive robes and responsibility to hold a firm gaze.

The only one that Draco and Harry even glanced at for any longer though was Hestina Goranov, the new defense against the dark arts teacher, they say. Harry snickered at the thought. What ridiculousness of her teaching to defend against it! Ha! Dumbledore must've been wrapped around her finger, entranced by her steady coal eyes that reached out to you, and whispered the secrets she had been trusted with. Her hair which was the color of pearls, with streaks of blood magenta. Her hands with her long fingers adorned many rings made of bone and such, and her black blouse was fitted with a corset of blood red that dripped into a ruffled skirt. She smiled at the crowd but didn't say a word.

Finally, the crown jewel of stupidity and muggle-love at the school stood, wearing a bright gold and silver starred robe and crescent glasses, his nose crooked and slightly pink from the cold weather. "This is Hogwarts!" He shouted. "A place for all wizards and witches to come and learn. Tonight, as all nights of the first night, we will Sort our first years into the house they will stay in until they complete their training at Hogwarts! So far we've only served drinks in our magical goblets and slices of turkey on silver platters, and recently I've found that salted meats upsets me. . . So I will only say a few words before the sorting commences," the whole hall fell silent. "Nitwit, blubber, neon, chrysanthemum, and polar. Thank you!" He sat down, receiving half-hearted, and confused applause. Not from the Slytherin table though.

Professor McGonagall stood as she carried out the Sorting Hat, a large brown drooping hat, with threads of leather falling down the rim and small holes from moths adorning it. Harry shivered at the thought of that horrid object even being placed on his head.

"Abbot, Hannah." She called the first student, a dirty blonde haired girl who clung to her skirt with her thin fingers. She sat on a creaky stool and closed her eyes as the hat sat on her head.

Occasionally, the hat would make noises like, ah! Ooh. . . That is interesting. Woah! Hahaha! After three minutes it became obvious there was a conversation happening up there. "Well, I see no other place to put you except HUFFLEPUFF! Who's next!?" Hannah smiled at finally being released and staggered to the Hufflepuff table.

The professor continued. "Aiken, Woody." She called. A boy with lots of strawberry colored hair that fell over his eyes, and short legs almost jogged up the stairs, he was so excited, he jumped onto the stool and the hat barely grazed his head before calling out:

"GRYFFINDOR!" And the obnoxious crowd of Gryffindor house hooted and hollered and their shrill voices rang in Harry's ears.

"Aylmer, Horace. . ." It was a more continuous stream of Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, with twelve or thirteen Ravenclaws swept in with maybe nine Slytherin students. The only one Harry paid attention to was a girl with bushy hair the color of hot toffee and eyes that danced between amber, chestnut, cognac and golden as the light of the candles flickered around her. Pity she was placed in Gryffindor. The ceremony was a bore after that until Gerhold Pletcher left, claiming the title of a Gryffindor, Harry realized who was next.

"Potter. . ." Professor McGonagall's voice trailed off in shock for a moment. "Potter, Harry." The whole room silenced. Draco clapped Harry on the back one last time before Harry stood, walking calmly to the post as the filthy hat was laid on his head, forgetting about the fact that she forgot to mention his full name.

So Harry was right. The hat talks. It spoke to him inside his head. It felt as though he was intruding. Harry Altair Potter. . . you like to be called that, don't you? Hmmm. . . fear, paranoia, and selfishness. You are brilliant, but not witty. Not clever. It seems Slytherin must be an easy choice, but I'm going to make this last a bit longer. I haven't seen a mind like yours since. . . well, since the mind that took the life of your parents.

The hat continued.

You don't hate, Harry Potter. You don't. You think the passion you have against muggleborns and muggles and everyone who won't serve you or Voldemort is true, but it is not. It is an installed feat on your young mind and I promise you, you will change. Nonetheless, I'm a hat. I'm the Sorting Hat! I'm unbreakable, no matter what comes, and there will always be someone to sort, so. . . be in Slytherin. Serve Voldemort. You can walk that dangerous and thin line between ambition and bravery, but you will fall Harry Potter. And who you choose as the person to catch you will either enlighten or destroy you. Goodbye, Harry Altair Potter. For now.

Harry's brain stung as their connection ceased and he just barely made it out of his daze before his house was called.

"The boy belongs in SLYTHERIN!" And everyone fell silent. Harry leapt off the stool and surveyed the crowd, raising an eyebrow at the quiet until the Slytherin house erupted in cheers, and even the other houses clapped with decent respect for Harry, who had after all, saved them from slavery at the hands of Voldemort.

But then again. . . he was the boy destined to do it again himself.