"And the spurns"

"Albus," the wandmaker said slowly, the rickety ladder creaking below his feet as he nudged the box back into place.

"Garrick," the Headmaster of Hogwarts said cheerfully.

Slowly, he turned and made his way down the ladder, surveying the scene of destruction around them. He could always clean it up with a wave of his wand, of course, but there was something about doing it all by hand to calm the mind. And no more first years to fit, either...

"Garrick," Albus repeated.

"Oh - yes." The wandmaker shook his head, making his way back to the front of the shop where the older wizard was waiting. "A surprise, Albus. I didn't realize you would be in London today."

Albus smiled, a sparkle in his eye. "I always like to see the first years in Diagon Alley," he told him jovially.

"Mm. Unfortunate, that you'll be missing most of them," Garrick told him, wiping off the counter.

"There's always next year."

"May I help you with something in particular?" Garrick continued his way around the shop, taking care not to engage in Albus' old annoying trick of the eyes.

"Ah - yes, I suppose so... I believe young Mr. Potter was recently in here."

"He was." Garrick eyed Mr. Robinson, who was curled up in his normal spot under the counter. The cat scowled at the reminder of the boy who'd nearly blown his tail full off... no, he wasn't quite sure it'd been the wand, either...

"And he received his wand," Albus continued, pressing harder.

"Yes, he did." The bones creaked in his knees as he placed the wands back into the wand boxes, stacking them one by one on the counter. Maybe he should have taken on his nephew for the summer... but no, the boy should have one more summer of freedom before starting in the family business.

"A core of dragonstring, James said."

"Mhm?" Garrick paused for a moment. "Yes, with chestnut... 12 inches, unyielding."

"Strange." Albus didn't speak for a moment. "I would have thought he would have found his match in your old holly wand..."

The wandmaker didn't rise to meet the headmaster's invisible challenge. "The wand chooses the wizard," he said blandly.

The image popped into his mind then, of the small, dark-haired boy in the shop, no parents with him, just an unusual knowledge of the Wizarding World. Just like the other one. Curiously so... but an innocence, a happiness, where the other had only held a cynical hate.

"So the holly wand remains," Albus said, no small amount disappointment clear.

"It was a wand well suited to him," Garrick informed the headmaster. "Quite well. He seemed very pleased."

"Thank you, Ollivander." Ollivander. It was always Ollivander...

"Of course, headmaster."

No, he hadn't said anything to the boy... and he didn't see any reason to say something to Albus Dumbledore, either.

He was stuck in the darkness again. The cold rushing in, grabbing at him. He couldn't breathe. He was drowning, stuck in the nothingness of the void –

"Harry!"

Tom's voice, but he couldn't reach out. Tom wasn't there. No one was there – the door had shut, the lock clicked into place – Tom? Tom?

"HARRY!"

"HARRY! Harry, wake uuuuuppppp." Light burst painfully into his room as Harry woke with a jolt. Groaning, he burrowed his head deeper in the pillows as he tried to remember what had happened. It was the tenth – eleventh? – time he'd had that dream. And every time, when they were so close – when the she was about to turn around –

"Harrrrryyyyyyy!" With a mad giggle, the nine year old jumped onto his bed and right on to – well, Harry. "Come on! You gotta wake – ow!" The girl yelped as she fell back onto the end of the bed, thrown off by her would-be victim.

"That's what you get for waking me up," he growled, as he emerged from the pillows with wild hair and glowering eyes. "And now –" he grabbed a pillow, his weapon of choice, and started to inch towards the girl, whose eyes had started to go wide and whimper -"I didn't hurt you, did I?" Harry added, concerned.

Fia stuck her tongue out at him. "Not a chance!" she said in her singsong voice, and bounced straight off the bed. "You gotta get up for Hogwarts!" she yelled back at him as she threw more of the curtains open wide. "Harry's going to Hogwarts, Harry's going to Hogwarts –"

The Harry in question fell back into the bed with a groan. "It's not even – it can't even be seven yet," he protested. Fia was too far away to hear, or even care. Pancakes were her favorite breakfast, and the delicious smell was even tempting Harry out of bed...

"She's right," Sirius grinned ruefully, leaning against the doorway as he looked about at the destruction his only daughter had wrought in the bedroom. "You should come down and get some breakfast. Your trunk's downstairs already – we have to leave soon." With a flick of his hand, the room slowly returned to its normal state. "You're forgiven from chores, since you're leaving – but, ah, just – don't tell your mother, alright? May I sit?" He motioned at the end of the crumpled bed.

Yawning, Harry nodded and slid out of the bed to go sit next to the wizard. Tom wasn't quite awake yet either, but the early morning silence was comfortable. He didn't need someone else badgering him –

"I can still hear you, you know," Tom murmured drily. Harry was going to respond when he saw Sirius looking at him strangely, and he realized he'd been standing there for a second to long.

"Here." Sirius scooted to the side, and Harry climbed up next to him. "I – well, ah – there's – I suppose I should just show you," he said abruptly. His hand reached into the depths of his robes and fished out – a mirror? "My family used these during the war sometimes, to keep in touch with each other," Sirius explained as Harry examined the hand mirror curiously, tilting it this way and that. He'd never seen anything like it – it was silver, but so delicate and fragile that -

"Goblin-made," Tom commented in his head.

"I have one," added Sirius. "If you ever have any problems – anything with school, or other students, or you just want to talk - you can always call me. Just – here -" his hand covered Harry's for a second, adjusting his grip. If he noticed Harry stiffen, he didn't comment. "There," he said finally. "All you have to do is say my name, and mine will activate. I've given your mother one as well. There's only three of the mirrors, but now you can talk to either of us anytime you wish – Harry? What's wrong?"

Harry was staring at the mirror, his hand clenched around it, his face grounded in a frown. He'll take it away if you remind him, the voice in his head taunted him. He's just forgotten. If you remind him – but – there's only three mirrors. Why should you get one?

"What about –" The thought of losing the mirror made him want to cry. He could see his mother, he could see Sirius anytime now, but... "What about when Fia goes?" The words tumbled out.

"I have my ways of keeping an eye on Iphigenia when she goes to Hogwarts," Sirius replied calmly, as he watched Harry hold onto the mirror for dear life. He hadn't even thought of the mirrors until his wife told him he should give them to Harry. Seeing Harry so fearful when he thought his lifeline might be taken away, he knew it'd been one of the better decisions of his life. Slowly, he put his arm around the boy and pulled him closer.

This time, Harry relaxed.

"Make sure you call us in private," Sirius added, as the boy stared into the mirror. "And you should come downstairs – Aunt Rhia made pancakes for you." As they stood up, Sirius could have sworn he saw a hint of a smile on the Harry's face, but he'd masked it by the time they made it to the stairs and went down to the kitchen.

"See, I told you he was up," Fia complained, as she tried to balance on her stool to look at the pancakes bubbling. "Now can I have –"

"May I have, Fia." Rhia scolded her. "And yes, you may have one, since you woke Harry up." With a flick of her wand, the pancake landed on Fia's plate, and the dark-haired girl dug in with a beam.

"Is Mum up?" Harry asked as he brought his plate to Aunt Rhia.

"Hey, he got two pancakes!" Fia protested in between bites.

"That's because he's leaving, and you've got another year of pancakes," Rhia Black said calmly, but grinned at Harry when her daughter couldn't see her. "Your mother will be down in a second," she added. "Fia, finish up – you have to say goodbye to Harry, they'll be leaving soon."

Harry could feel his mother frown as she knelt down to fidget with his cloak. "Don't mess that up now," she warned him, her face hidden under the hood. "I –"

"What are they doing, over there?" Harry interrupted her, too excited to pay close attention to what his mother was saying. They were standing at the far end of the train tracks, right around the corner from the floo. They could've just apparated, but –

"You can't apparate right into the station. Do you know how big of a mess that would cause?" muttered Tom. He'd been upset ever since Fia's wake up call, but Harry couldn't understand why –

"I can still hear you," his voice pointed out.

"- do you mean, Harry – oh, them?" His mother motioned at the chattering figures emerging from the fog across the way. "There's another entrance from the Muggle world. Most everyone uses it – it's a fun experience, but it can get a little... hectic." Her voice trailed off. She always did that when she got worried.

"He should get on the train," Sirius murmured. He was standing to the side, his hood drawn over his head – watching the other students and their families, Harry realized. "Everyone else is starting to board. We'll be noticed soon."

"Give me a second," his mother muttered back. "Harry." Lily smiled deeply at her son, even as her eyes betrayed her nervousness. As she drew him into a hug, Harry had a vague flash of what had been – red hair, not black, surrounding him with warmth – but it disappeared just as soon as it came. "You can talk to me anytime," she murmured in his ear, and all of a sudden he wanted to beg her to take him back, take him back anywhere but here – But.

"Of course, mum," he whispered back, hugging her just as tightly.

Finally, she pulled back and stood up gracefully. Her hand slipped onto his cheek, guiding his eyes to up to face hers. Harry blinked, confused, but his mother simply smiled, shook her head, and gave him a gentle goodbye kiss on his head.

"We're ready," she said quietly to Sirius, her hand guiding Harry towards his trunk. "Sirius – Harry –"

"Remember what I told you," Sirius told Harry quickly. The fog was beginning to fade as the students began to board. "Only in private. Don't get – that's the whistle –"

Harry let himself be pushed forward by the crowd as his mother let go. He made it onboard just as the last students were boarding.

Then – ever so slowly – the train began to push forward.

"Just go to one of the empty cabins," Tom advised, still quiet. But that was easy for him to say – there weren't any empty cabins, at least, not that Harry could see. Every door was closed shut, and he could hear the giggling students just behind them. His trunk was starting to get heavy too, even with the wheels and the charm to lighten it –

"Are you looking for a place to sit?" the voice asked abruptly. Harry stopped where he was. "Over here," she said, right behind him. He whipped his head around.

The girl was a first-year, just like him, with wild, bushy hair and an unnaturally good posture. Tall, too – at least three inches taller than Harry. Maybe four or five. He was always short next to the other kids. Her gleaming, piercing eyes met his gaze; for a second, Harry had the oddest feeling that he'd met her before. "Come on, get in," she told him, calling him back to reality. "You're blocking the aisle."

With a woof, the door slammed shut quickly behind them. She waited for him to get settled, and then – "I'm Hermione Granger," she announced, holding out her hand. "And – you are?"

"Harry Steward," replied Harry quickly, whipping out his hand to meet hers. He shrunk a little under her stern gaze. She reminded him of his mother, or Aunt Andromeda, when they got mad – a blazing fire, crushing all in its path. "So, uh –" he sat down neatly into the corner of the cabin. Next to them, the winds rushed past as the train flew forward to the north. "I'm a – I'm a halfblood," he added, when she seemed puzzled. But that just seemed to confuse her further.

"What's a –"

Suddenly, the door slammed open. "Harry? I've been looking for you everywhere – oh." The blonde-haired boy frowned when he realized they had company, but took the seat next to Harry anyways and made himself comfortable. "How'd you end up here?" he asked, quizzically.

The girl – Hermione, Harry reminded himself – stretched out her hand politely. "Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you." Her guileless eyes betrayed her ignorance at whom she was introducing herself to – a muggleborn, Harry realized.

Draco frowned for a second, but just before Harry was going to nudge him not to be rude, he met her halfway. "Draco. Draco Malfoy, the pleasure is mine." He cocked his head slightly, trying to place her. "You're not from the Wizarding World, are you?"

Hermione smiled naively and shrugged. "Was it that obvious? My parents were so proud when I got the letter – I mean, when Professor McGonnagall explained it all, of course. I've been reading all about Hogwarts ever since then – I know all about the houses, and the classes, and the history –"

"Surely not all, though," Draco broke in calmly, staring her down with his cold gaze. Harry looked at him nervously. Was he angry? He'd never seen his friend angry before.

"Don't say anything, Harry. Let her answer him," Tom said quickly. It was only his guiding hand that kept Harry back.

"I –" Hermione met Draco's gaze unwaveringly. Harry could see her thinking through her next works carefully. "Not everything, obviously," she finally replied. "But I'd like to learn."

Harry glanced between the two first years. But then Draco relaxed suddenly. "So what class are you most excited for?" he asked, his voice curious. "I've learnt some of the basics, of course – growing up here – but I think my favorite will be Potions."

Hermione shook her head. "Potions will be interesting – but Charms! There's so many endless possibilities. I was just reading the third level of The Standard Book of Spells – I know they only said to get the first level, but you never know what might be useful –"

"Oh, of course," Draco agreed with a dismissive wave of his hand. "The booklists are only recommendations. You can't just limit yourselves to them – what about you, Harry?"

Harry could only remember how to close his mouth at the moment from gaping at the two bookworms. The third level?

"I told you to read ahead." Tom's voice was back to its normal smugness.

"I – ah – Defense Against the Dark Arts, probably...?"

Draco raised an eyebrow, calling his bluff. "Ignore him," he declared loftily to Hermione, turning back to her. "He prefers flying to learning useful things."

"I do not –" But his protest fell on deaf ears as the two bookworms started to debate the books they'd read. Harry fell back into his seat with a huff and stared out the window instead. It was still early afternoon. Overhead, the sun shone brightly on the rolling hills as the train roared past the empty countryside.

"You know, now would be a good time to read ahead." Harry could tell Tom was smirking, and ignored him. His thoughts were spinning around left and right in his mind. What would the Sorting be like? Draco, friends with a muggleborn? Though technically, wasn't Harry's mother a – actually, Harry didn't know that much about his mother's family. She never really talked about them. Harry let his head fall against the buzzing wall of the train as he surveyed the landscape outside.

All of a sudden, shouts broke the peaceful banter in the cabin. Harry startled suddenly in his seat at the commotion – was it coming from the hallway? He stood up, curious. His two companions hadn't noticed as they continued their hearty debate.

Silently, he moved towards the doorway, but the noise of the door opening grabbed Draco's attention. "Harry – what are you –" Draco stood quickly, his curiosity raised by the yelling. None of them could tell what was going on. "Close the door," he demanded. "We should probably stay out of whatever it is." Draco wasn't particularly convincing as he strained closer, trying to hear what was going on.

"Shush," Hermione ordered Draco as she came over. She turned to the doorway. "Harry, crack it open just a bit more? Geez, you'd think it was a bunch of pigs squealing out there –"

Suddenly, a dark figure flew past the crack of the door, and the voices died off. A second after, they heard her gasp in pain.

"WHAT is going on here?" This person seemed new, and his voice got louder as he stormed towards the cabins. "Ronald – Charles – what is the meaning of all this shouting?"

"Close the door," Draco ordered suddenly. Harry glanced back; his face seemed to be paler than usual.

"But –"

"Close it now –"

It was too late. They'd clearly missed part of the conversation, but then they head the girl's voice cutting through the air, clear as day. " - they saw it all, Prefect – they can tell you what happened –" Harry had a bad feeling she meant them.

The door flew open with a bang, and the trio jumped.

The Prefect in question was a lanky red-head. He'd drawn himself up to twice his height as he marched over to the trio, the golden badge gleaming brightly on his chest. Harry fidgeted in his shoes. Just to his side, the girl – she must have been the one who'd flown past – seemed to be dusting off her robe. Why would – had someone pushed her?

"What did you see?" The redhead demanded. Draco was about to reply, but he was beaten to the punch.

"They didn't see a thing!" The voice came from their right. Harry stepped closer to the hallway as the Prefect was distracted. "Why are you even asking them? She's just lying –"

"Am not," the girl rebutted. "You didn't have to shove me –"

" - We didn't shove her, Percy! That's what she gets for bothering us." It was two boys, first years by their height. The redhead was the one complaining. The boy next to him merely rolled his eyes, his arms crossed in an angry huff as he slouched against the wall. "The cabin was clearly taken –"

"It wasn't full," the girl interjected.

"- by the Chosen One." He glared at the girl petulantly.

"One, not two," the girl quipped.

"You little –" But the redhead didn't finish that thought before the Prefect interrupted.

"I'm not - what did you see?" Percy demanded, turning back to the trio. He had apparently forgotten that they'd just heard what had happened.

"Amateur," commented Tom.

"They shoved her," Harry said quickly. Draco backed him up.

"And you –"

"Oh, yes," Hermione added breezily, her eyes wide. "Those two louts shoved her."

Percy pursed his lips as he looked from one group to the other. "Get back in your cabins, all of you," he finally ordered. "I don't want to hear any more complaints about noise." He trounced off before he could hear the girl ask exactly which cabin she was supposed to get back into. As soon as he left, all of the first years walked out into the hallway, the two boys glaring at them angrily and trying their best to look menacing.

"Malfoy. Slytherins," the red headed first year whined in disgust down the hallway. "Figures. The whole lot of you should be kicked out of Hogwarts. You couldn't have seen a thing. I can't believe Percy actually believed you."

"Who says we'll be in Slytherin, anyways?" Hermione demanded with outrage, before the others could reply. "And why do you care if we are?" she added, realizing the inadvertent insult.

The other boy finally spoke. "I mean, if they want you, they're welcome to it," he said with a snort, eying her. "We don't want a girl like you."

"I –" Hermione flustered, her cheeks a bright red. "Go to – oh, shove it!" She went back into the cabin angrily. "Boys!" she called back in an afterthought. "And you." She poked her head back out to motion to the girl.

"Gladly." The girl glided gracefully into the open door. "And don't worry, girls like us don't want boys like you," she threw back over her shoulder.

"The nerve of them – who was that?" Hermione demanded. She sat down with a huff, her cheeks red with anger.

"Weasleys." Draco left it at that. By his tone, it did seem to explain everything though. "Oh, and Charles Potter," he added dismissively.

"How do you know –"

"Chosen One. Unless there's another Chosen One floating around somewhere?"

"Oh," Hermione said with a squeak. "Isn't he – you mean – the one who defeated –"

Draco settled back into his seat and shrugged. "Supposedly. Honestly, for the Chosen One, you'd think he'd be more... I don't know, special?"

"Oh." Her eyes widened. "And –"

The other girl chuckled. "You told the Chosen One to, quote, shove it," she reminded Hermione. She took up the seat next to the door that was opposite Draco. "Oh, please," she added, at Hermione's look. "He's a prick. You shouldn't care about insulting him –"

"Oh, I don't care about insulting him," Hermione broke in, her voice firm. "That arse is going to learn not to insult me. What was your name, anyways?" Harry got a little nervous at the gleam in her eyes, even as they switched over to a safer topic than how Hermione was going to make the two boys rue the day they insulted her forevermore.

"Tracey – Tracey Davis." The girls tossed her hair over her shoulder casually. She was one of those people that were entirely sure of themselves and their place in the world, and she knew it. "Don't bother trying to remember my family, Malfoy," she added, glancing over at Draco. "My parents adopted me after the war, so it doesn't matter anyhow. And who are the two of you?"

"Adopted," Tom muttered. "Now that's strange. Though the Davises were always a peculiar bunch..."

"Harry Steward, and that's Hermione Granger," Harry replied, ignoring Tom's odd comment. "And –"

"What did they mean, we don't want a girl like you?" Hermione interrupted. "Oh, no, I know they were trying to insult me," she added, as Harry was about to reply. "But who was the we?"

"Oh, probably Gryffindor." Tracey rolled her eyes. "That's why they got mad at me – I may have disagreed slightly with them what the best house was."

"Weasleys always end up in Gryffindor," Draco said with a shrug. "They're very proud about it. And Potter's dad was in Gryffindor too, I think. But there's not as many of the Potters about. I'll be in Slytherin, probably. Harry's a bit indecisive, so we'll see about him." Harry rolled his eyes at the lighthearted dig. "So what was the best house, Tracey?"

Tracey grinned. "Mother wants me in Ravenclaw, so I'll probably try for Slytherin just to shock her. They thought I was the next Morgana, of course."

Harry could see the cogs turning in Hermione's head as she glanced between the bantering wizard-raised pair, but even he didn't expect her next words. "So is it true that Slytherin is evil?" He nearly choked at her blasé tone, but Draco and Tracey didn't seem too bothered.

"Oh, the most evil," Draco said loftily with a wave of his hand. "None are worse. Slytherins are always evil. According to Merlin, anyways – but what does he know, he only got into the house during a Resorting."

Tracey rolled her eyes and glanced at Hermione. "Eh. It's a complicated relationship with Gryffindor. Didn't you like those two shining beacons of Gryffindor nobility? Anyways, we should probably go get changed – it's getting dark."

His first view of the castle that was to be his home for the next seven years was one of the most breathtaking moments of his young life.

On the subject of Hogwarts, Tom had always been strangely silent. He'd gotten the impression that it was a subject the wizard didn't like to talk about, though of course he wouldn't tell Harry why either. His mum had told him stories, and so had the Blacks who had quasi-adopted him – but they didn't have the flair for storytelling that came so naturally to his invisible friend.

And nothing they said had prepared him for this moment. From the water, the castle seemed to touch the very sky as it soared above them. The laughter and cheer carried easily across the water towards them as the boats glided on the lake. Even though he knew he was a wizard, he hadn't truly believed it until now. The rescue from the cupboard – the reappearance of his mother – his unexplainable friend Tom - it just wasn't the same.

The castle seemed to sing to him.

"It's the magic," Tom murmured. He was trying to hide it, but Harry could feel a sense of – loneliness? sorrow? – in his companion's voice. "The old way of magic. You're one of the few who can feel it."

Harry frowned a little at that thought. To not be able to feel it... Over the impenetrable darkness of the water beneath them, the castle rose into the sky as they inched closer and closer. He was so close...

"Let go a little," advised Tom. "Here – like this..."

Harry felt himself soar in the magic as he closed his eyes.

A professor named McGonagall had collected them at the doors of the castle. Now they were just waiting to be called in – for what, Harry wasn't sure, but he couldn't quite hide his smile. Hogwarts. At last. His mother was right – there simply weren't words to describe it.

They were by the edges of the crowd. Next to him was Draco, surrounded by all his childhood friends. Harry had never met most of them, but he recognized a few from the ill-fated garden party. He ignored their chatter, instead taking the time to look at their surroundings. The castle was even more enormous in person. Even from his place, though, he could see the portraits moving as the staircases shifted above them. A few of the first years screamed when the ghosts swept through; Harry just watched them quietly. He remembered Sirius saying that each house had its own ghost – was that one headless?

"Oh – Harry." The boy in question startled, but it was only Hermione. She must've come up behind him. "Hey," she said with a nervous smile, fidgeting a bit as he turned around. They were off to the side, away from where anyone could hear them. Harry glanced over for a second to where she kept looking. The two boys they'd met on the train had noticed they were talking. "I - um – what – what house –"

But she didn't have a chance to finish her question when McGonagall swept back in and ordered the first years to follow her. She wasn't one of those people who had to say it twice. They were pushed into a tight group as McGonagall led them between a row of tables and had to scramble to keep up with her brisk pace. Even those who'd grown up in the Wizarding World gasped as they entered the hall.

Above them soared thousands and thousands of floating candles that bathed the hall in an otherworldly light. On either side were two tables, filled with chattering students who seemed to be staring right at him. Their golden plates were empty, Harry noticed, but it was already a richer feast than any he ever attended as a child. Silently they marched towards the end of the hall; there stood a long table with what must have been the Hogwarts professors. They, too, looked down from their high chairs, murmuring to themselves as they watched the first years file in. But it was the ceiling that took his breath away – not a ceiling at all, surely, but the heavens above. Harry couldn't believe he'd even entered the castle at all. They were the same stars, the same moonlight – even the same clouds that had lined their way into Hogwarts.

The first years were so entranced that they nearly collided into a heap when they reached the front of the room. Some of them weren't so lucky; Hermione in particular had the misfortune to collide into a few of Draco's friends. They didn't take offense, but Potter and Weasley didn't miss the chance to laugh at her with some new friends they'd managed to pick up since the afternoon. Hermione just bit her lip, the blood rising angrily in her cheeks. Harry shuffled a little closer to her and tried to give her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, but once again McGonnagall cut them off before Hermione could reply.

"When I call out your names, you will come forth," she said briskly, motioning to a – stool? – besides her. It was times like this he wished desperately to be taller. She hadn't mentioned anything about the Sorting itself when she'd given her speech at the door, but it looked too small to be the troll Weasley had sworn up and down it was. Hermione noticed him trying to crane his head. "It's a hat," she murmured quietly, just as McGonagall broke in with, "And I shall place the Sorting Hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your Houses," and glared at the two of them. Apparently she'd still heard Hermione.

But then even Harry could see when the stern professor, who was one of the most elegant women he'd ever seen, pick up one of the dirtiest, most ragged hats he'd ever seen (even among Dudley's pile of putrid laundry). "But how does it even –" Harry heard Weasley whine behind him, only to jump when the hat suddenly began to – sing?

Oh you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!

Hermione seemed to make more sense of the words than he did – or at least she looked very thoughtful. But the green-robed witch didn't give them any time to process the raggedy hat's strange words before she started to summon the first years. "Abbot, Hannah," was quickly placed in Hufflepuff. The next few were scattered between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, with only Tracey going to Slytherin. Soon it'd be Hermione's turn. He'd be nearly last, he realized with a gulp.

"Granger, Hermione."

She gave his hand a reassuring squeeze before she walked carefully up to the hat. The hat took a few seconds longer, but then the new muggleborn Slytherin proudly off to her new table. Even McGonagall looked shocked, but she quickly recovered and silenced the muttering first years with a look.

The hat took only a second for Draco, naturally, before it sent him off to Slytherin. Most of Draco's friends had gone to either Slytherin or Ravenclaw, but Harry hadn't kept track. He was too busy trying to figure out how long he had when the hall suddenly went still.

The Chosen One, Harry realized everyone was muttering. Charles Potter, the boy he'd run into on the train, swaggered forth to take his seat. Everyone, even the teachers, seemed anxious at the thought of which house he'd be in, but they didn't have to worry: within a second, the Hat cried out Gryffindor.

"Unremarkable," Tom muttered, but didn't expand on it. Too soon it was Harry's turn. As McGonagall slipped the hat onto his head, he could feel the world go dark.

"Now what do we have here?"

Harry would have jumped if he wasn't so used to strange voices in his head.

"What a reassuring thought. Would you care to tell me who's in your head?" He can't tell, Harry realized. But it wasn't like he could tell the Hat anything himself, anyways. "No? Well, whoever it is will be silent for a bit," the Hat growled. "Don't worry, you can keep your secrets. I won't tell. I have more than enough... ah, what bravery. You'd make a fine Gryffindor, you know. Just like your mother. One of the best who ever came through."

"Not Gryffindor," Harry pleaded in his head, his heart nearly stopping at the thought. The thought of having to be friends with that – ugh.

"Not Gryffindor, eh?" The Hat seemed to almost frown. "You'd be perfect for it, you know. But, well – you're loyal too. You haven't told a soul about your friend there. Ravenclaw would serve you just as well as the badgers, but you don't seem to have the wish for it... no, you've known where you wanted to go for a while, I think. Better be... SLYTHERIN!"

In a daze, Harry went to the far table. It seemed so... well, distant from the others.

"Slytherin, huh?" Tom whispered in his ear.

"Don't you approve?"

"Congratulations, Harry," replied Tom, ignoring the question. "Go enjoy it."

"Why the frown, Harry?" Draco said with a whoop and a grin as he joined his childhood friend at the Slytherin table. "You got into Slytherin! And here you were saying you wanted Ravenclaw –"

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said in a whisper as he slid in next to the brunette. "So Slytherin?"

Hermione shrugged, her smile bland. "Where else would I find real friends?" Harry opened his mouth to reply, but she shushed him – too happily. "Pay attention – the headmaster is speaking."

The hall had already quieted around them – there'd been something about the Forbidden Forest, which was, unsurprisingly, forbidden – but Harry could see some of the Gryffindors muttering at that already from his corner of the room. "Idiots," Tom said dryly. "They'll get killed the second they sneak in there – don't worry, I'll show you how to go in without raising suspicions."

" – Harry, pay attention." Hermione looked at him strangely, as if she knew there was something off.

"... and finally," Dumbledore said with a heavy sigh as he finished up his rambling speech, "I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor is out of bounds to anyone that does not wish... to die a very painful death."

The air went out of the room for a second, but the mutters soon followed. "... A little melodramatic, don't you think?" Draco said sideways.

Harry didn't respond; he was too busy watching the headmaster. A headmaster that was staring rather too intently at... well, Charles Potter.

"Harry?" murmured Tom.

"The Dursleys never told me off like that," Harry whispered slowly to the voice in his head. "It almost sounded like – well, a dare."

The first few days passed by in a blur. Tom had been nearly silent since the Sorting, besides whispering his brief congratulations. Shouldn't he have been more pleased? Harry wasn't sure. Maybe Tom hadn't been a Slytherin. His mother and Sirius had seemed please, anyhow, and the hurried conversations between the bustle of the new school schedule were more than enough for now.

"Hey – hey, Harry, wait up!" Harry paused when he heard Tracey's voice down the hall, and slowed down so she could catch up. "Hey," she said again, her voice breathless from running as she grinned at him. "Whaddya up to? I feel like I've barely seen you."

"Don't we have every class together? And I'm heading to the library, if you want to come." They rounded the corner into one of the empty hallways leading up to the library.

Tracey rolled her eyes. "You know what I meant. And that's perfect, it's just where I was heading. How do you even know how to get there yet?"

Harry stopped at her last comment and frowned. Tracey spun around, her grin far too innocent. "Why are you going there if you don't know how to get there?" he asked, his voice just a tad suspicious. "What's the real reason you were following me?"

"Oh, good one Harry, not obvious at all," Tom drawled. Harry nearly jumped at his friend's reappearance, but he stopped himself just in time. "Act more like a Slytherin."

"You're not much of a Slytherin," Tracey informed him at the same time in a tart voice, bringing him back down to earth. When he didn't answer immediately, she frowned. "Ok, fine. I wanted to talk to you. And I knew Hermione would probably be in the library –"

"What about Hermione?" he said, surprised. Harry felt a weird, sudden pang of concern for the muggleborn he'd met just a few days ago.

"She's not – look, don't take this the wrong way," began Tracey as she noticed Harry beginning to frown. "She's just... uh, well, she doesn't talk to any of the other girls. And I get it. Look, really, I do, but they think it's weird. She's so wrapped up in all her books of hers... but they think she thinks she's better than them."

Harry snorted as he pointed out the obvious. "And she's also a muggleborn –"

Tracey frowned. "That's not all of it, Harry. We've had muggleborns – hell, I even heard Snape was one, and look where he is now. Listen, would you just talk to her?"

"I – why don't you talk to her?" replied Harry. "You live with her. I've barely seen her since the train ride."

Tracey groaned and closed her eyes in despair. "I – geez. Boys. Hermione's not going to take it well, coming from someone like me. And I'm sure you can figure out what to say. Or ask Draco. I was going to ask him originally, but he's always disappears off to the library too."

"What do you mean, someone like you? I'm sure she'd be fine if you spoke to her," Harry replied, confused.

"I – you are such a boy," Tracey repeated in frustration. "Look, just talk to her? Figure out something to say. And quit being so obvious, or you're going to shame our house. And we're really only one week in." Turning on her heel, she stomped off – right in the exact direction of the library, Harry noted.

"Someone like her?" Harry repeated slowly. "... Tom?"

"It's a girl thing," Tom replied, yawning. "Just don't question it. You'll understand when you're older."

"Really?" Harry asked hopefully. There were so many things he didn't understand about girls –

"Of course you won't, Harry, why do you even ask me that?" Tom snorted. "But Tracey is right. Hermione will take it better from you. If you really want to help her, that is."

"Why wouldn't I want to help her?" Harry asked in surprise. But Tom had disappeared again, and with a sigh, Harry went off to the library. It only took a few odd turns here and there – Draco and Hermione were right were they usually were, buried deep in a corner together. And, as usual, arguing.

" – the Corpus Hermeticum was clearly – oh, Harry," Hermione looked up, startled out of her usual unruffled air.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry replied, looking a little befuddled at the table before him. Surrounding the pair of Slytherins were piles upon piles of books. And – upon a closer look – they weren't exactly books for class, either...

"De Occul – Occulta Philosophia?" Harry stumbled out, picking up one of the leather –

"Human skin," Tom pointed out helpfully. Harry dropped the book in shock.

"Harry?" Now Draco was staring at him.

"Uh – um, human skin?" Harry pointed out.

"Well, yes," Draco said nonchalantly. "We have a few of those at home. All the good alchemy texts have skin on them." His tone betrayed his puzzlement at why Harry didn't know that. Hermione wasn't paying attention. She'd buried her head back into one of the books.

"Yes – but – ugh. Nevermind. Where did you get the books?" Harry eyed them warily.

"Oh, they were sitting at the Chosen One's table, but he didn't want to do any work," Hermione said flippantly. "So we took them. I was curious. He doesn't seem like the type to read, you know, so it was a bit suspicious." Harry didn't have time to mull over the statement from the same girl who'd nearly had an aneurism that they might not get to their first class on time.

"It's a good read, you know," Draco cut in. "A bit over our heads – well, treatises from the 2nd century BC usually tend to be a bit too complex for first years – but I think we've made good headway, all things considered."

"Great. So what headway did you make?" Harry swung himself over the seat next to Hermione, pushing some of the books to the side. Carefully, that is, so as not to touch more of the... skin.

"Not much," Hermione said thoughtfully, as she peered through one of the books. "It's kind of standard old scientific texts from the medieval ages."

"More confusing is what Potter had them in the first place," Draco replied, pushing his out of the way. "It doesn't really matter what they say – everyone knows that Flamel already found a way to prolong life –"

"He didn't have them," Hermione countered, lifting her head up to counter Draco. "Didn't you see it? They was leaving, and all of a sudden they just appeared on his desk. Not that they cared, of course," she added.

"They just appeared?" Harry's face burrowed in confusion. "Why – well, who?" he amended.

Hermione scowled. "No idea, and I'm getting a headache." She started to gather her things.

"I second that," Draco said with a yawn. "Here, just check this one out Harry, we hadn't gotten to it yet." He slid a smaller, blue covered book over to Harry. "Or, on second thought, don't check it out," he amended.

"If someone wanted Potter to see something, they probably know we took the books," Hermione pointed out.

"Actually, probably not," Draco replied, reaching for his own bag. "Wizards are remarkably lazy about that sort of thing. Father always said to never assume your plan worked – said that was what got most caught..." his voice trailed off as he looked up.

"Draco?" Hermione asked. But Harry had already seen it – a mop of red hair, eyes glaring at them suspiciously.

"Come on," he muttered under his breath, packing the book neatly away into his own bag. "We can talk down in the common room."

"Absconda," Tom whispered in his ear as they made their way out of the library.

"Abs – what?"

"Just say it. A flick of the wand to the left, that's all you need," his voice replied back. "Now – before you pass her desk – "

"Absconda," Harry whispered under his breath. The stern faced librarian didn't look up once as they passed her desk, the stolen book hidden soundly under the fold of his bag.

"And you forgot to talk to Hermione," Tom pointed out.