Shadow Mage

Chapter 7: Quest for Allies, Part 3

Disclaimer: I own what I own, nothing else. If anything in this chapter seems remotely similar to something you've read before, I probably didn't come up with it, nor do I claim to have done so, so don't waste your time and my own trying to sue me for it. Thanks. Regards, lamejoke911.

A/N:

For those of you didn't get the sorting they wanted, well, I hope you aren't disappointed too much by the way I chose to do it. It was a hard decision for me as well, you know. Anyway, on with the story.

Time flew past in a blur as one by one, each student was called up to the front, where the worn old hat decided the fate of the intimidated first years. Before he knew it, it was Hermione's turn. As the girl he'd known for well over two years took her place on the stool, he could almost already hear the confident shout of 'Ravenclaw!' echoing through his ears far before she had placed the hat on her head. The hat didn't disappoint.

Not long after, it was his turn. "Potter, Harry!"

For a moment, the entire hall was blanketed in pin drop silence at the mention of his name; the name of the legendary savior of Wizarding Britain – the name of a young boy long thought to be dead. As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out in a cacophony of excited voices spread out through the hall. Harry Potter though, paid no heed to any of that as he advanced, deep in thought.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

"Good Gracious! He's actually alive!"

As he slowly trudged up to the stool, he knew where he must go. Despite his very honest thirst for knowledge and his drive to learn all facets of magic, both the obscure and the mundane, as well as his surprisingly sentimental longing for the intellectual companionship that Hermione's continued presence would provide, each of which would have earned him a one way ticket into the house of the intelligent and studious, his greater goals denied him such indulgences.

He walked on, knowing that he would have to tread the finest line between detesting the pureblood supremacist agenda, and making enemies of its greatest supporters; between holding the self-acclaimed light side in well-deserved disdain, and succumbing to their critical gaze of scrutiny. It was no easy task he had set up for himself, but one well befitting of his station and abilities. Any less would have been a joke. An insult to his genius; to both the strength of his mind and his magic.

It was not long before he too had placed the centuries old hat upon his head, both in anticipation of learning more about this fascinating artifact - that seemed to be able to look deep into the holder's soul and judge their character- and in fear of it unearthing and divulging the deepest contents of his mind. Nevertheless, he persevered, until he heard a voice ring out in his head.

"Hmm. An inquisitive mind, a resourceful intellect. Cunning when it suits you, and bold as hell when you need it. You would do well anywhere… But you don't want to go just anywhere, do you?"

'How is the hat doing this? Does it read my mind? Scan through my thoughts? Swim through my memories? At what rate would that even be possible?'

"Oh, inquisitive indeed. Rowena would have loved to have you! Why, I am merely charmed to get a feel for my wearer's general character, and scan their surface thoughts."

'Scan my surface thoughts… So what does it base its decision on? What if one's personality was entirely in contradiction to the house he / she ardently wished to go to?'

"Then I would grant him / her their wish, all the while counseling them against the decision they are prepared to take."

'Hmm. Put me in Slytherin then. It is where I must go.'

"You would do well in Ravenclaw, I must say. There, you would find like-minded individuals with that same appetite for knowledge as yourself. The environment wouldn't be as obnoxious as the other houses. Plus, companionship… Have you thought of that?"

'No. I must go to Slytherin.'

"What about Gryffindor? You will be in the company of some of most spirited wizards and witches in Britain. True fighters for a cause. They are just sitting around waiting for a sufficiently charismatic individual to lead them around like sheep. You would have no problems getting them motivated for whatever cause you want to start."

'I've said it once, I'm saying it again. Put me in Slytherin. For my plans to work, that is where I must begin.'

"Well, if you're sure – better be SLYTHERIN!"

The assortment of murmurs instantaneously quieted down at the proclamation, leaving a hall filled with bewildered onlookers. To their credit, they had a right to be. First, the world famous scion of the light, vanquisher of the greatest dark lord of the century, the Messiah of hundreds of Wizards and Witches throughout the country – a person long assumed to be dead, had shown up at Hogwarts without any semblance of a warning..

To over three quarters of the student population, he had been dead till a couple minutes ago. To the remaining student body, they had merely heard whispers. Rumors that the Boy-Who-Lived truly had lived. It was only the staff that had known with certainty that Harry Potter would be coming to Hogwarts.

Even had that not been the case though, the very concept of a legendary figure of the light - a perceived reincarnation of Merlin himself, a half-blood to boot – being sorted into the house of the snakes, a house that should have – in the minds of many – been reserved for the foulest of the foul, the most rotten and evil of the bunch was nigh unbelievable. It was staggering how such a person could have been sorted into such a place.

And with that, a thunderous racket erupted in the hall.

"I knew the hat had gone senile!"

"Well obviously. After its centuries of monotonous existence, what else did you expect?"

"Did they check the expiry date?"

"That slimy old snake!"

"I knew I felt something off about him in the train!"

"How do we know we've been sorted correctly?"

"I demand a resorting!"

"Of course, he was dark enough to off You-Know-Who when he was just a baby!"

"How come you put me in Hufflepuff, you stupid hat!"

"Where else would he go?"

"Maybe going to Slytherin isn't all that bad after all?"

Out of this cacophonous outbreak of remarks, Harry made sure to file away the last one.

'Bones – I think her name was. She just needs a slight nudge in the right direction, and everything else will move along swimmingly.'

Approaching the Slytherin table where he was expected to sit, Harry found an empty spot and settled himself down. It wasn't long before the sorting came to an end, and he found himself seated between two first years like himself. On his left was a dark skinned boy with long slanted eyes, and the spot to his left was occupied by a blonde girl, whose face was schooled into an aristocratic look of indifference to everything around her.

"Looks like the hat was smart enough to show you the best place to be…"

He could recognize that cocky voice anywhere. Directly across from him sat Draco Malfoy, the boy he had met on the train. He was obnoxiously pompous right now, but Harry could say without doubt that by the time they would graduate, his family name alone would have garnered enough clout that befriending him now would be totally worth it.

"Not smart enough to put Weasley where he should be, I'm afraid." He retorted, a mischievous grin set on his face.

A fit of uncontrolled laughter broke out along the table, the bodyguards that seemed to perpetually flank Malfoy joining in. Of course, the said boy, who was seated towards the end of the table, barely realized that he was being made the object of everyone's amusement.

Speaking of which, that too was a wonder in and of itself. For a Weasley - who were Dumbledore's minions through and through, associated with the 'light' for decades, and allergic to any and everything 'dark' like the plague – being sorted into Slytherin was an anomaly. More than that though, it was a no-no. How their youngest son managed to land that achievement was anyone's guess. Just an hour ago, he was spouting a load of nonsense about slimy snakes and how only the darkest wizards ever go to Slytherin. So much for that idea. A Weasley couldn't utter a dark spell to save their life.

It was about then that the 'esteemed headmaster' – lord of the light, greatest wizard of the century, and a dozen other titles - Albus Dumbledore, got to his feet, his arms opened wide in a welcoming gesture. On the outside, he seemed genuinely pleased to see so many bright new additions to the school's student body, but on a second, deeper look, one could see he was perturbed. His eyes, which had been twinkling since the students had first set foot on his soil, had lost that twinkle. And why shouldn't he be worried. Harry Potter's impromptu appearance had shaken up years of consolidated planning. Nevertheless, now wasn't the time to be dwelling over such thoughts. He had appearances to keep up after all.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

He sat back down. Everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn't know whether to laugh or puke.

"Is he - raving mad?" he asked an elder girl across from him on the left.

"Mad?" the girl scoffed. "He's supposedly a genius. Best wizard in the world, they say! But he is quite mad, yes."

Before he could think of a reply, every person's attention was attracted to the dishes that lay before them, now full to the brim with delectables.

"At least the food here is sufficiently adequate…" came the scheduled snarky comment from across from him.

'Ok, so that's an understatement.'

The dishes in front of him were now piled with food. Seldom had he come across such a variety of delicious food items before on a single table (surely not at the Dursley's place, and after that, he was never really into spending a fortune on just luxurious dining – a fortune that he did have, mind you): roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

Slowly filing up his own plate with some of the eatables, Harry took this time to cast a look across the Great Hall. The students were chatting with each other, probably catching up with old friends after a whole summer apart, while the members of staff were busy discussing God-knows-what amongst themselves.

But if he looked closely enough, he could see the stares. He knew that his sorting into Slytherin would raise up a storm, but still, he had no idea that it would be at such a large scale. Students from each of the four houses were glancing his way, making no visible effort to conceal their displeasure at where he went.

Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs, who had spent most of their conscious lives in constant suspicion of the name Slytherin, and anything associated with it, immediately jumped to the conclusion that he was dark on the basis of the sorting. Of course, their fears were mostly not as unwarranted as some of the more optimistic supporters of inter-house relations and co-existence may wish to portray.

Slytherins - on the other hand - did nothing to dispel the sweeping stereotype. Most didn't really give a damn either way about what the 'stupid 'puffs' thought anyway. A large number of them were children of either outright Death Eaters, or more commonly, closet supporters of the Dark Lord's dogma. As a result, they resented the Boy-Who-Lived for having a part in dethroning their allegedly invincible leader and casting their parents back down from their hard-earned positions of prominence among his ranks.

Of course, not all Slytherins were of that type. Many saw Harry Potter's presence in Slytherin House as a once in a lifetime opportunity, to gain favor with him, and ascend up the ladder of power using the fame and influence his name would command as a stepping stone. There were others, of course, that were completely indifferent. Like the two first years that sat to his right and left. They neither looked at him in disdain, nor could Harry see them trying to gain his attention like the Malfoy heir was. They merely kept to themselves. He filed that away for later.

Sending another appraising look down the hall, he realized that it was the Ravenclaws that seemed to be the least bothered with where he was placed. The number of glares directed at him from that table – he could count on one hand. 'At least, that's a plus…'

Speaking of Ravenclaw, he could see Hermione had already taken to the House like fish to water. Her food –much like his own - was practically untouched as she engaged an elder student – a prefect, if his badge was any indication – in what appeared to be an intriguing discussion about something concerning wand movements. He couldn't really make out too much of it over the racket that the Start of Term Feast entailed.

Harry's eyes wandered over to the head table, where the almost exclusively jovial mood stood out in stark contrast to the dichotomy that plagued the student body. Professor McGonagall, the stern looking witch who had announced the roll call for the sorting sat next to Dumbledore, who was laughing over some joke that apparently, only he thought was funny. Hagrid, the titan like man who could have passed himself off as a giant any day, was quite inconsiderately guffawing over something a woman to his side had said, the lamb chops in his mouth making for quite an uninviting spectacle. The other so far unidentified Professors too, were conversing amicably among themselves.

Of course, there were some marked exceptions to that statement. A hook nosed man, with greasy hair and sallow skin was scowling. God knew what had him seething even before he had his first class. He continued to wonder what could have the man so visibly upset, until, rather suddenly, the man looked his way. It didn't just stop there though, as the man's eyes locked with his own, and then, he felt it.

It was similar to how he felt when he would force the minds of others to reveal their secrets, only this time, it was accompanied by pain. Where intruding into the minds of others had almost always been euphoric in nature, this time, it was entirely unpleasant. The situation, though wasn't completely alien to him though. He had read a book on this (not a strictly legal book). Harry's vision began to swim as he resisted.

'First thing to do is break eye contact – Break eye contact.'

A petite woman in her twenties stands by as a small boy struggle beneath a pile of pots and pans, heaving them over to the stove. The image blurs. The young boy cowered behind the door of his cupboard as a large man stormed into the house angrily. The scene shifts. The boy stands by as the local police swarm into the house, quietly relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with his relatives any longer.

'Break eye contact! Now!'

Harry's vision zoned back into reality as he collapsed into his seat, exhausted. His brow was thick with perspiration as he breathed deeply. Never had he imagined that his first day in the magical world would entail such an unanticipated intrusion into his mind. Despite knowing for quite some time that the mind sciences were a standard branch of magical theory, he had always thought that what he had was special. Something that was his alone, to the exclusion of all others, or at least all but the rare exception like himself.

He was well aware that his control over shadows was not common at all – in fact – he hadn't found a single mention of such abilities as his own in any of the literature he had come across as of yet. As a result, he had assumed that forceful intrusion into another's mind too was a salient feature of his own unique powers. How wrong he turned out to be…

"Hey! Are you alright?" the girl next to him asked. She seemed genuinely concerned about him, so he replied, "Yeah, just having quite a headache. Thanks for asking though, Miss - ". A slight pause left the inquiry floating in the air, as he looked to her for a response.

"Daphne. Daphne Greengrass. And no problem."

"Do you know who that hook nosed teacher with the greasy hair is?"

"Umm, I can't say - "

"That's Professor Snape," Malfoy butted in. "Not only is he a world renowned potions master, he's also our Head of House and my god father. So you'd better watch what you say about him. He can be your greatest ally if you gain his favor, and your worst enemy if you earn his ire."

"He sounds like quite the interesting person… I'll be looking forward to attending his classes."

Harry's attention returned to the head table, where Professor Snape had resumed his dialogue with the Professor with a turban wrapped around his head, but the potions master refused to meet eyes with him again. In fact, it was now the turban clad Professor that was looking at him (his name was Squirrel - or something - he recalled).

Harry though, had other worries. Ever since the incident, he had begun to develop a rapidly intensifying headache, which didn't look like it would abate any time soon. Just then, as the final dishes of dessert were scraped clean, Dumbledore rose once more, casting silence through the hall again as people realized the headmaster was standing.

"Ahern - just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."

"'Fed and watered', what does he take us for, livestock?" Of course, not all students had stopped whispering when their headmaster had risen.

"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

"Like Hell anyone's gonna want to go there. I heard it's really freakin' dangerous." The boy named Nott whispered back.

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Weasley twins.

"Oh, them." An older girl, who could very well have been Nott's elder sister remarked.

"Some of the most troublesome pranksters Hogwarts has ever known. I've steer clear of those two if I were you. They specifically target Slytherins. Especially Freshies like you." She finished.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors."

"What? No magic?" Another whiny voice interrupted. This time it was another first-year. The Parkinson girl. "Why do they think we're here, to learn how to live like a muggle?"

Murmurs of agreement ran down the table.

"Stupid, Muggle loving Dumbledore!"

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch."

"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right-hand side is out of bounds to everyone who does not wish to die a very painful death."

Harry laughed, but he was one of the few who did.

"He's not serious?" he muttered to a Prefect sitting next to Daphne..

"Must be," said the prefect (Gemma Farley from her badge), frowning at Dumbledore. "It's odd, because he usually gives us a reason to justify why we're not allowed to go somewhere - the forest's full of dangerous beasts, everyone knows that. I do think he might have told us prefects, at least."

"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" cried Dumbledore. Harry noticed that the other teachers' smiles had become rather fixed.

It didn't take long to figure out why. The 'school song', as it was dubbed, was perhaps the single most ugly and inharmonious piece of junk ever. Everyone finished at a different time, and the Weasley twins continued on singing for just under a minute after the last of the students had quieted down.

"And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"

With the headmaster's dismissal, the students rose from their seats, taking the doors leading out of the hall until only the first years were left, accompanied by the prefects.

Harry too, joined the throng of first years as they eagerly followed the prefects out of the Great Hall and down into the dungeons. As they moved further, Harry would have classed the trip as getting drearier by the minute, if not for the multitude of portraits that stalled them as they made their way by. In no time, Harry stood outside what would be his common room for the next couple of years.

The Headmaster's Office:

The past several years had been one disaster after the other. The sheer amount of improvising he had had to go through in his master plan had been record-breaking. Especially for someone like himself, who liked to keep all his pawns where he could see them.

That boy though – everything had gone wrong. It had all gone as predicted in the beginning. Ever since the prophecy had been made, Albus knew that the boy would be special, and even though it was quite possible that the prophesized child was the Longbottom boy, he had a hunch that the half-blood would be it. And Lord Voldemort wasted no time in proving that hunch of his.

Much to his delight, the first confrontation between the baby Harry and Lord Voldemort ended up with the boy left an orphan, and the dark lord gone for at least a decade. With no parents to keep control over him, Harry Potter fell into his hands by sheer luck. Sirius Black, the sole hurdle in his path, voluntarily gave up his chance to take custody of the boy when he went chasing after his traitorous friend.

Dumbledore, of course, left nothing to chance as he deposited the child – despite much protest from Minerva and even Severus – with Lily's sister. Hiding behind the relatively true façade of blood protection and next of kin, Dumbledore had ensured that the boy would be mistreated and kept in a state of low self esteem. All the better for when he hopped into the picture offering the only place of refuge that the boy could hope for. That was what he was best at after all. Gaining absolute trust and confidence of those he led. The plan was picture perfect.

The first time anything had had gone wrong was a couple years back when all the equipment in his office monitoring the Dursley residence got fried. He had frantically hurried over to Privet Drive to take a look for himself at what had happened, but nothing seemed amiss. The boy lay in his cupboard – sleeping – and the magical reserves that he could detect were mediocre at best; far more favorable than what he'd even imagined. The base had been established; and it wouldn't be long until he swooped in and molded him into the approval hungry hero's role he had always envisioned for him. The ultimate sacrificial piece had been born. Or so he thought.

Just the following evening, Mrs. Figg had flooed in, looking like the apocalypse had come early.

"It's terrible!" she screeched. "They're dead, the lot of them. And poor little Harry… He's gone. Disappeared!"

"Calm down, for a second. Tell me what happened."

A frown marred the aged headmaster's face as he intently listened to the woman's tale – half of which had been a concoction of her own wild imagination (she hadn't been there to actually hear the police's report). Ever since then, his plans had gone haywire.

The disappearance of the champion of the light meant he would have to completely revamp his strategy. And now, after he had spent years working on his plans for taking control without the Boy-Who-Lived as his golden boy, Harry Potter had popped up once more. He was going to have a real killer of a headache after this.

He was brought out of his musing as a knock sounded on the door.

"Come in Severus." He coolly replied.

"That pompous brat! He knows occlumency, Albus." Severus Snappe raged as he marched into the room, fuming.

For once, Albus Dumbledore had no tokens of wisdom to retort with. After a silence that spanned over several seconds, he settled for all he could have said given the circumstances.

"Summon him here then."

And Cut.

AN:

Hope you all enjoyed your holidays… for those that got them that is. I barely got any myself.

And I have no excuse for being so late other than that Ping Pong (Tale Tennis) has become an integral part of my life, and I've been devoting my writing hours to it. Don't get disheartened though, my stories aren't abandoned till I say they are.

Also, for those of you who are in charge of communities… If you like this story, please add it to your community archives.

I'm trying to do justice to both my stories though, so my next update will probably be for my Naruto story - Vengeful Sage! - don't forget to check it out.

Try to leave review on your way out. Thanks.

I'm out.