Disclaimer: I dun' own diddly squat.

/wat

AN: It took me three months but I think I finally did it. A skimpy, one thousand-some word chapter. Hooray for achievements!

The room wasn't large, but the acoustics of it gave it the same expansive feeling that cathedrals had about them. Rows of red seats lead up to a stage, where a curtain was drawn. As Draco made himself comfortable, delighting in propping his feet up on the chair before him, he saw several other members of the New Religion popping up. They all tucked their portkeys/memos away in their cloaks. They'd all been instructed to wear a yellow or gold triangle somewhere on their person for the first official meeting. Draco himself had little gold equilaterals embroidered into the hemming of his cloak, but most others wore vastly more obvious – not to mention tacky – triangular accessories.

Gradually, the seats filled up, though most people chose to leave a free seat or two between each other. Draco especially, with his hulking gorilla bodyguards looming just one row behind him. Crabbe and Goyle's thickset faces and intimidating statue scared just about everyone else off.

Just about everyone, that is, except Hermione Granger.

"Hullo, Malfoy," she said lightly, walking directly at Draco and sitting right beside him.

Out of habit, Draco curled his lip back. "What in Merlin's name are you doing here, Granger?" sneered Draco.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm in Harry's cult, too. You're not his only friend, you know," she replied sharply.

"Not here, I mean here. Right next to me. In my personal bubble. Getting your Muggle germs all over my robes," Draco said with a scowl.

Goyle tapped his shoulder. "Should we hex her, Draco?" he asked in a low voice.

"Don't bother," said Draco, waving his hand in a vaguely feminine, and quite authoritative, manner. "I'll just scrub myself raw when this is over."

Hermione smiled at Draco, to which he turned away and glared at no one and nothing in particular.

When all the seats had been filled, the lights suddenly went out. Muggle-borns, Hermione included, all thought that there must have been a blackout. Others assumed someone had forgotten how to magic. However, it quickly became apparent that the sudden darkness was wholly intentional. A singular spotlight lit the stage. Conversation died as Harry Potter himself pranced to the center.

Wand to his throat in a rather Dumbledore-esque sort of way, Harry smiled and ventured on to say, "Happy afternoon, one and all! Welcome to the very first meeting of the infamous New Religion. As you all know, I'm Harry Potter. However, that's only at Hogwarts. Here, I'd much prefer you refer to me by my formal title and chosen name, Highpriest Kid Cipher. Failure to do so will result in immediate Expulsion."

There were giggles at this. Draco chortled, until he saw the look on Hermione's face. Maybe it was her deep-seated and irrational fear of the word "expel," or maybe it was just because she knew Harry better than anyone else, but something about Harry's threat – nay, his warning – made Hermione anxious. Draco, one of the most perceptive firsties, took her furrowed brow as a hint, and sobered up.

Harry waited with a contented, if slightly mad, smile, and when the audience fell silent once more, he continued. "You do not all have titles now, but as we expand, your roles in the New Religion will become more clearly defined. For now there are only two authorities you absolutely must obey: myself, and our eternal overlord and patron of all things peculiar, our equilateral dictator, Bill Cipher."

Something about the way that name hung in the air made all the students in the room shift uncomfortably. Thus far, joining Harry's cult had felt like an adventurous joke – a game – but the weight he placed upon that name caused even the dullest to reconsider.

This wasn't for fun.

This was forever.

Draco tugged on his collar, eyes shifting nervously between Hermione and the empty seat on his other side. After several long, tense seconds, Harry clapped his hands together and began rocking back and forth on his heels, relieving the tension.

"By joining the New Religion, you swore your immortal soul to Bill Cipher. Eternal, unquestionable loyalty. This, I'm pleased to inform you, was the smart thing to do," Harry said, beaming. "Here in the New Religion, you get boundless benefits for very little input. I'm sorry to say you can't meet our beloved leader yet – he's a very busy triangle – but you will eventually." In a much darker tone, Harry added, "Eventually."

On a much more cheerful note, Harry continued, "Until then, I, as Highpriest, will speak for Bill Cipher. Now then, are there any questions?"

For a while, everyone was silent, then Draco got bored and raised his hand. Harry called on him.

"Will we get to learn your weird magic?" he asked. Since day one, Harry had made a point of flaunting is grotesque brand of magic. It was likely some form of dark magic, definitely illegal, and certainly not taught anywhere on Earth. Once Draco had gotten over the initial shock, it became... fascinating.

Harry clapped like a pleased toddler. "Naturally! Bill's minions can't be incapable of holding their own in a fight to the death against hoards of Time Police! You guys would be really expensive to replace, I'll have you know." No one was sure who the Time Police were, or why they would be fighting to the death, or if Harry was even being serious. They all, as a hive-mind, elected not to ask for clarification.

Everyone in the room had a question, true, but something told them they wouldn't be getting a straight answer out of Harry. He didn't do straight answers. They over-complicated things with how boring they were. Thus, everyone decided not to ask anything at all.

Pleased, Harry wasted no more time moving on to the next item. "Curtain!" he said loudly, and the red material behind him was pulled away to reveal four portraits.

"Now, I believe it's time for a lesson in hate," Harry purred. "These people, from left to right, are Stanley and Stanford Pines, Fiddleford McGucket, and Time Baby. These are the people we hate. We hate these people. These people would oppose Bill Cipher..."

Something about the lull of his voice, the way his words eased into their ears, made them all listen. The vibrations emitted from his mouth were just the right frequency, just the right balance of youthfulness and authoritative rumble to make them soak up his words completely. It wasn't hypnosis – a Muggle could do it – but it may as well have been.

The only ears among the crowd who weren't fazed by Harry's chocolaty voice were Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy.

The two shared a look of concern.