Disclaimer: Harry Potter and any such related characters/symbols/ideas/etc. are in direct correlation to J.K. Rowling as of the year 2011.

This refers to the internal thoughts of the person being discussed.

"This is dialogue."

'This is Harry talking through his soul bond or telepathically.'

ζThis means Parseltongue.ζ

This is a random subliminal message.

Dragonfist

Plop. Plop. Raindrops hit against some sort of glass surface. There was an eerie silence. An uncomfortable silence. Silence was etched on the very surface of this translucent barrier.

Albus Dumbledore opened his eyes. He blinked several times before inhaling a deep breath. He immediately began to cough. The air reeked of dead bodies.

Albus tried to get up but an invisible force held him down. His hands were tied to his back. His feet were bound to the ground. And his back was arched sideways in a very awkward fetal position.

Albus Dumbledore groaned. Where was he?

He concentrated on using wandless magic to untie himself. But he couldn't even feel a single strand of magic inside of him. He struggled some more. But there was no point. He couldn't feel an ounce of magic. He couldn't let alone locate his own magical core, something he had come to rely upon much during the last great war.

Albus sighed and began to desperately search his own mind for reassurances. Perhaps a memory as to how he had gotten himself into this scenario? A clue on how to get out of this bizarre situation?

Albus frowned. The last thing he remembered? What was the last thing that had happened?

He remembered Trelawney making a prophecy about the Chosen One. Yes. He remembered that much. The Chosen had to be either Harry Potter or Neville Longbottom.

After finding out about the prophecy, Albus had... gone off to warn the respective families about Voldemort. Yes... He went off to tell the families to go into hiding. But what happened after that? Had he gotten captured?

Albus gulped, his eyes widening with fear and worry for the Potters and Longbottoms. What if they had been attacked? What if he hadn't been able to save them in time? What if Tom had actually gotten to him first... and defeated him in a duel? Had Tom beaten Albus in a duel?

Yes! That was the most rational answer. Tom must have beaten him Albus in some sort of a duel. And then, Tom must have obliviated him afterwards. But why? Why not just kill him off?

Albus closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. As usual, he tried to see the light in things. He always had. There was always hope, no matter what happened.

There must be a way out of here, Albus cringed as he tried to move his hands around but found them immobile.

Albus shook his head and began to silently pray to whatever superior being looked over humans and creatures alike. He prayed that this wasn't happening. He prayed that the world wasn't doomed to the Dark Lord's rule just yet. What if the Chosen One really was dead?

"I see you are awake, Dumbledore." A silky voice drawled. Albus kept closed his eyes, not daring to turn to his other side. His frail heart beat faster. He tried to gulp, but his throat went dry. He'd recognize that voice anywhere. This was definitely NOT good. Not good at all!

Albus moaned. Not from the stinging pain in his back. Not from the fact that he had lost most, if not all, of his magic. Not from the grumbling in his stomach from not having consumed any food for Merlin knew how long.

No, Dumbledore moaned out of pity. He had failed the Wizarding World and led it to its doom. Worst of all, Tom Riddle, the Dark Lord Voldemort, had him captive. He was a hostage. And he had no clue as to where he was being held hostage.

"How the mighty have fallen, Dumbledore. Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" Tom Riddle cackled. Albus could imagine the disfigured man with red eyes, pale and scaly skin, and slits for a nose, inside his head. Any minute now, a Cruciatus curse would hit him. That was Tom's style of fighting.

As if reading Albus's thoughts, the voice rung throughout the enclosed gloomy area. "You are correct, Dumbledore. I do seem very drawn into the Cruciatus curse. And since you don't seem to mind..." The madman's voice dripped with sarcasm, "Crucio!"

The curse hit Albus on the back. The elderly man began to writhe with pain. Pain he had never felt before. His heart began to ripple with hate. His magic and knowledge began to ooze out of his head. Albus frowned, utterly horrified. What kind of magic was this? Where was he?

The next few weeks of school were pretty unpleasant for the Black brothers, Harry Peverell Black and Draco Black. The two friends did their best to ignore the constant whisperings and just shrugged off the hateful glances. Most of the muggleborns, the half-bloods, and some of the Purebloods had formed some sort of alliance and would try their best to ignore Harry and Draco in between classes.

The ignorance and hatred stung Harry. It harmed the one thing that could not be directly or physically harmed – his mind. This type of neglect reminded him of the Dursleys. Emotional abuse had always affected Harry in many more ways than physical abuse or damage.

At first, the entire school shunned the two friends, thinking that they were pureblood fanatics. Then, the commotion slowly died down after a few days, as did most of the far-fetched rumors. Many of the Hufflepuffs, Slytherins, and Ravenclaws decided to simply ignore Harry and Draco. Some second-years Ravenclaws even began talking to them during lunchtime. Soon, almost everything was back to normal.

But the Gryffindors were a completely obscene case. Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger began to spread wild rumors. They outright spoke to fellow classmates and voiced their opinions about how dark the Black family really was. Rumors about how Harry Black had come to Hogwarts to recruit his own set of evil minions. Rumors about how he had bewitched the Sorting Hat. Unbelievable little things like this helped turn practically the entire group of Gryffindor second years against the two cousins.

"Are you done with the Charms essay?" Draco tapped Harry's shoulder.

"Huh?" Harry looked up from his Transfiguration homework. The Half-blood Prince's little book was tucked safely under his robes, his guitar casually slung onto the back of his chair.

"I said... did you do the Charms essay? On simple Protego shields? And how to change their color and stuff?"

"Oh, that?" Harry began to play around with the quill in his right hand, twirling it in between his ring finger and his pinky.

"What else do you think I'm talking about? Stop spacing out, mate. Just relax. You'll be fine today."

Harry grumbled as he started going through his backpack. "I'll do fine? My reputation is so screwed up. People's opinions about me range from hate to lust. I won't get along with anyone in any of the houses. And if I get into Gryffindor, I'm legitimately fucked! I'm transferring out, no question asked." Harry found his essay and handed it to Draco. "Here. Have fun."

"Thanks. I suck at Charms." Draco snatched the essay and took a seat opposite of Harry. Harry resumed his Transfiguration homework.

"The library will be closing in half an hour," the librarian, Madame Pince, shouted from across the room.

"What? Darn. I just got here." Draco exclaimed and began to scribble frantically on a piece of parchment.

"You're not gonna plagiarize my essay, are you?" Harry looked up from his book and grinned.

"Nah. I'll paraphrase it. And even if I did copy it word for word, Flitwick wouldn't notice. He just checks to see that you got all the info. I mean, I heard Granger copies theories from the textbook and incorporates them into her essays word for word. And she gets straight O's." Draco furrowed his eyebrows in concentration.

"Whatever. I think you're just lazy Drake. You're gonna fail your O.W.L's."

"O.W.L's? That's in ages, mate. You worry too much."

"Mhm. Right." Harry rested the back of head against the top of his chair and began to scan the library.

There were very few students still in the library. There was a handful of upper-year Ravenclaws in the back of the library. Some Slytherin girls were huddled towards his left, near the window. Some Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors were huddled towards the front of the library, getting ready to leave. The tables were stacked along the sides, a clear aisle down the center leading straight to the library entrance...

"What are you looking at?" Draco's hazel-blue eyes locked with Harry's.

"Nothing. Just looking around. Apparently, this house rivalry shcizmit really splits people up. I haven't seen many people from two houses sitting together in the library. Or working together. Hogwarts basically hammers racism and prejudice into young people's minds."

"Yeah. That's Hogwarts." Draco smirked. "You sound way too much like an old person. Too wise for your own good."

"Hogwarts... you know, I always wondered why it's called that. I mean: Hog... and warts? Really? Couldn't the founders come up with something better?"

Draco shrugged. "Sorry, never read Hogwarts: A History completely. Heard that the name means something though."

"I don't think it mentions that in the book."

"You read the entire book?" Draco gaped. "You... nerd!"

"Nice one Drake. Yes, I'm a nerd." Harry closed his Transfiguration book. "You know, history is pretty boring. But, I have to bring up my ranking to first and that means actually studying about Goblin Wars, Wizard Prejudice, and stuff like that."

"You know, Hogwarts isn't all about studying, right? You need to do extracurricular activities as well."

Harry frowned. "Wait... really?"

"Um, yeah. I mean, it's nice if you get top scores in everything. But to get a Hogwarts diploma, you need to join clubs and teams. Didn't your godfather tell you about that? Or rather, didn't the headmaster tell you when you transferred in?"

"Not really. I wasn't aware of this. My godfather never had to do this. Since when?"

Draco wiped his forehead and shook his wrist. "Done. Here's your essay." Draco handed over Harry's work and began to pack up. "Well, after Dumbledore was fired from the Headmaster position in 1985 because he had lost his 'touch,' Sir Nicholas Flamel was appointed by the Ministry, where he used to work as an Unspeakable. He took over the position, overriding McGonagall's rank as Deputy Headmistress.

"In I believe 1988, the Headmaster Flamel implemented the new club and team policy. According to the system, Hogwarts students need at least 20 credits throughout their years at school to get the Hogwarts diploma. You get one credit every four months that you are on a club, and two credits for every four months that you are on a team."

Harry did the math and frowned. "Um... isn't that a lot? And when does this start? By the looks of it... I need to join a club real soon. Why didn't you warn me about this earlier?"

"Well, there are specific times of the year that teams and clubs take place. There are two four-month terms each year. The first term starts in October 1st and ends on January 31st. The next term for clubs and teams is from February 1st to May 31st. In June, there are end-of-term finals. September is when you get used to Hogwarts itself. So no clubs or teams meet up in those two months."

Harry scratched his head and checked to see if he had everything, double-checking the now vacant library table to see if he had left anything of value behind. The two began to head out of the library. "Wow. Thanks for telling me this... what's today? Oh yeah, September 31st. So, I have – what? – one day to decided which club or team I'm joining? That is bull! Crud!"

Draco grinned. "Don't worry. Credits are mad easy. You can join the homework club and the music club for ten terms, which is five years, and bingo! You're done. No sweat. And if you're a prefect, it counts as being in a club. Headboys and Headgirls get the equivalent number of credits as team members. Team captains get double the credits. And some clubs, like sex-ed, are really awesome and interesting!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sex education? That's... unique. Say, what happens if you get more than 20 credits?"

"Nothing. Just looks good on your resume and diploma. Helps in getting jobs."

"Why not just join a bunch of clubs and teams in one year? And get this stupid credit thing over with all at once?"

"You can try. But it's been deemed impossible to get more than eight credits a year. People have tried before you, but it's too much for one individual to handle alone."

Harry grinned as he began to race down the moving staircase. "Challenge accepted, bitches. Codename Pawn. Age."

"What about Codename Get. Grils? Or Codename Maraud. Er .Too?"

Harry shrugged. "You gotta sort out your priorities. Pawn Now. Bone later."

Draco nodded in agreement. "You're right. Pawn now. Bag witches later."

Meanwhile...

Destiny fumbled with her hands. She sat down on a large comfy, velvet chair. Lady Faith led Lady Hope onto an elongated sofa. Lord Luck plopped onto a leather couch, which was situated directly opposite the female deities.

"Um... so... how did you guys know I would be coming here?"

Lady Faith smiled, her yellow eyes sparkling with glee. "We had a feeling that you would come to us for help."

"Really? Are you psychic or something?" Destiny snorted.

"You can say that. We know all that goes inside of this galaxy."

All of a sudden, the little girl with blue eyes and silk white hair jumped up from her seat and turned towards Destiny. "You have Polka-dot Nargles on your shoulders. They cause the person bearing them to feel extreme emotions of guilt."

"Oh... okay? Thank you for your information." Destiny frowned.

Lady Faith shook her head. "No, you've got it wrong, Hope honey. Purplekimp Triuses do that to a person, not the Polka-dot Nargles."

"Oh, sorry mum. I will try to remember next time." The little girl dazed off before tugging at Lady Faith's arms. "And mummy? Isn't today my birthday?"

"Why, yes it is, sunshine."

Hope frowned in concentration. "Can I get a present?"

Faith looked down at the girl pinched her pale cheeks. "What is it, sweetheart? What do you want for your birthday?"

"Mommy, I want a husband for my birthday."

Destiny began to cough and gag. She gave the Unworthy Ones a queer and perplexed look. She looked at the girl and analyzed what she had just said. Mommy? Husband? But how was this even possible? What was going on? Immortals weren't allowed to start families.

Lady Faith soothingly ran her hands through Lady Hope's white hair and started to braid it. Lady Hope placed her head in Faith's lap. "Not yet sweetheart. Let us do business with our guest first."

Hope pouted. "But I want a husband, NOW!" Her blue eyes glowed aquamarine.

"Now, now. Behave like a young lady. If you want, we can go hunting later."

"Can we go looking for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks on Earth tonight?" Little Lady Hope put on another, irresistible and adorable pout.

Lord Luck grinned and ruffled Hope's hair, making her braided hair a bit fuzzy. "Sure thing, princess. Whatever you say."

Destiny stuttered. "Um... is this... normal for you guys?" She had been warned that the Unworthy Ones were weird. But this was beyond her.

Lord Luck chuckled. "Our little girl likes to throw tantrums every now and then. Faith says we spoiled her too much. But I always fall for her cute little pouts."

Destiny squeaked, "Um... Okay."

Lord nodded his head and looked back at the girl. "Out of curiosity, who would you like to marry, my little princess?"

"Harry Potter Peverell Black Pendragon." The little girl huffed firmly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Destiny paled and felt light-headed. "Um, what?"

Lord Luck grinned. "That's really nice sweetheart. Now, why don't you go up to your room and sleep in for the night?"

Hope fumed. "I want a husband RIGHT THIS MOMENT!" Her hair turned a flaming ruby red.

Lady Faith got up and hugged the little girl firmly, dragging her out of the room. "Now, now, Hopester. We'll go looking for Snorkacks tonight. And, tell you what. We'll try to go to Saturn tomorrow to look for Whitesnout Gluns, okay little star?"

Hope huffed. "Okay. I guess. But then, I want a husband." Lady Faith disappeared with the angry girl right behind her.

Destiny couldn't help but blurt out, "Is she your daughter?"

Lord Luck stretched his feet across the couch, in a very informal manner. "Yes. Why do you ask?" His white eyes twinkled and sparkled with hints of silver and gold.

"Well, we immortals aren't allowed to sustain permanent relationships with others. And is Lady Faith your wife? How is that possible?"

Luck cleared his throat. "Who said I was a normal immortal?"

"Um... that doesn't prove anything."

"Yes, yes. You see, we are called the Unworthy Ones because we broke our magical contract with the Creators. We used to rule the entire universe alongside Lord Death, Lady Magic, and Lady Life. It was quite fun back then. Eons of making useless mortals and such.

Luck outstretched his hands in an overly-dramatic fashion. "And then. I met her."

Destiny furrowed her brows. "Who was she? Hope?"

Luck cringed. "No! Heavens, no. Hope is my biocosmical daughter, for Magic's sake! No. Why, I met Lady Faith, of course. She was as beautiful as the brightest star in the universe, and still is."

"But immortals aren't supposed to fall in love. It's our one major flaw."

"Ah, yes. So Faith and I had the classic case of forbidden and hopeless love. Throw in some forbidden sexy time and you get our lovely daughter, Hope."

Destiny gaped. "You. Had. Sex?"

Lord Luck chuckled. "Yes. And for this reason, we were demoted from being the most powerful aristocrats ever to exist to having the status of simple plebeians. We now live here, on Neptune, and watch over several parallel universes and alternate realities. In simple words, we are magical scientists. We are the immortal version of the Unspeakables. Hence, we are known as Unworthy Ones. Does that explain your questions? We happen to have a very bad reputation in the magical world, don't we."

Destiny rubbed her hands together. "Well that is true. Um... did you say that there are other universes and realities?"

"Yes. Why do you ask, young lady?"

Destiny seemed to be caught off guard. "I was under the impression that... well, we were the only ones who had ever ruled mortals. There are other mortals to rule? Other realms?"

"Yes, there are an infinite amount of realities, parallel universes, and dimensions to rule. Many immortals, like you, are sometimes very ignorant." Lord Luck piped up heartily.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Destiny cocked her eyebrow.

"Well, you obvious don't know much about the immortal ruling realm. This solar system is like the many others just like it. This solar system is located inside of a galaxy, which is inside of a universe, which is part of larger universes. And so forth.

"Briefly, you should know that there are other replicas of this solar system on different planes, called alternate realms. But, instead of wizards and magic existing, there are other things or powers present. Such as humans with super strength, humans beings with the ability to shape-shift, humans with powerful creatures called Pokémon under their command.

"If you don't understand what I just said, go back to Mars and let Lord Time the concept of string theory to you. As for an example, you three have already created your own little parallel universe by bringing your Chosen One back into time. If you haven't already figured it out, your new reality's timeline is different from the previous one. Each parallel universe and alternate reality affects another in some shape or form."

"Okay. I get the part about alternate realities. But why else am I, like the many other immortal beings, being ignorant?"

"Well, you are oblivious to the destruction that is going on, on Earth right now, which is all due to your absence from Earth. Since you aren't guiding your Chosen, a very large imbalance between good and evil has sprung up. That's a biggie."

Destiny quirked an eyebrow. "Wh-what do you mean? And how do you know all this? I was under the impression that all was well... isn't Harry... okay?"

Luck's white eyes turned to a dismal gray. "Your Chosen is going down the wrong path. You have already wronged him once in your life by defying his destiny. Don't expect him to be as lucky as last time. Don't expect him to stay pro-Light. Your Chosen is undergoing a phase of depression. This will stunt the growth of his magical core, thereby limiting his powers as the Chosen One. He might even go dark, if not taught how to control his inner alter ego."

"He might go dark?" Destiny gaped. "Surely he won't do that. I mean... he's always done what's right for humanity."

Luck chuckled. "And how do you know his future? Am I not right to assume that he has no destiny, no fate, and no time restrictions as of now? He is free to do pretty much anything. And by anything, I mean anything. How can you be so sure that he will not turn evil?"

"This is... horrible."

"Indeed it is." Luck conjured a cigar and took a puff.

"Are you guys willing to help me? Save my Chosen One, I mean?" She panicked a bit.

Luck nodded his head and banished the cigar. "Sure thing. You can count on us."

"Um... just like that? Nothing in exchange? No blackmailing? No rewards or souls in return for the help?"

Luck shook his head. "No. We are more than willing to help your Chosen."

"But why? There has to be some sort of ulterior motive."

Luck sighed. "Do you know what will happen if your Chosen is led into a path of darkness?"

Destiny flinched at the thought. "Um... no..."

"We. Go. Boom." Hope flicked his fingertips together.

Destiny frowned. "I... how?"

"The imbalance between good and evil will be too great. System entropy will increase. Lord Death will have to come here and destroy the world himself before too much damage is done."

Destiny bit her lip. "Oh, Magic. That's not good at all!"

"You bet it won't be. And if your Chosen does remain 'good' or on the 'Light side,' he will be too weak to face the Dark forces on Earth. The battle between Tom Riddle and Harry Potter would result in the creation of a dark hole or worm hole the size of Mercury, resulting in the obliteration of this solar system, maybe even most of the galaxy. And apparently, Lady Magic, Lord Death, and Lady Life are too busy to care about the damage that can be caused because of this."

"The entire galaxy?" Destiny exclaimed. "How?"

"Well, the worm hole would only increase as it ate up Mars. If you don't know already, there are tiny, microscopic wormholes scattered around the solar system.

"How are dark holes formed?" Destiny interrupted.

Luck clicked his tongue. "Well, there are many ways. One of the few ways of magically creating a hole would be by destroying an alternate reality. Every time a reality collapses, there is a sixty-eight percent chance of a black hole forming. Your little action where you destroyed the soul of Ginerva Weasley, and sent your Chosen back into time, is an example of this kind of magical pandemonium. Another occurs when massive amounts of raw magic collide."

"You mean our little action with Apocalypse destroying the old reality... created a black hole or whatever it's called?"

"Yes. Essentially, it's a magical vacuum. But nonetheless, there are many other theories.

"Anyhow, when any of the two worm holes or dark holes present in this solar system were to meet, the magic levels and entropy levels would increase exponentially. The holes would merge together and would continue to enlarge. And with each hole merging into the original, a massive new black hole would form. It would suck up, stretch out, and destroy everything in its path. It would take a while before Lady Life would be able stabilize the hole. By then, most of Milky Way Galaxy 32 would be obliterated."

"Why don't you just tell the Creators to stop this from happening in the first place?"

Luck grimly smiled. "Didn't I tell you already? Everyone's worst fear and flaw is their hubris. Everyone is arrogant and ignorant, even immortals. Lord Luck, Lady Magic, and Lady Life would never listen to any of our advice. We need to sort out our own problems."

"So... you are willing to help me? But how?"

"First, we must study your Chosen One. What are his skills. Abilities?"

Destiny frowned. "Um... he's the Conqueror of the Skies. He can summon lightning from the skies. He's a RunesCrafter, and on the road to becoming a RunesMaster."

Lord Luck snorted. "That's it?"

"It's not my fault that my Chosen only has certain abilities."

Lord Luck shook his head. "I know your Chosen better than you do. Did you not know that your Chosen is a Patronus Sage? A Battle Patroni Sage, as a matter of fact."

"Really?" Destiny perked up. "No, I didn't know that."

Luck rolled his eyes. "Ignorant, foolish immortals."

Destiny raised her eyebrows. "Um, well, excuse me Mr. Luck."

"Also, your child is ambidextrous, has the eye of Horus, and is multilingual."

Destiny frowned. "So? Does that mean anything?"

Lord Luck rubbed his chin. There were small strands of blonde chin hair. "Perhaps later on, they will mean something. But for now, let's focus on getting him to successfully cast a Patronus Charm. Perhaps, it is time that I gave him my blessing for better luck."

"Teach him the Patronus Charm? Why? Is there something special about his patronus?"

Luck grinned. "You bet there is. You see, a mortal wizard's base patronus is the one thing that the individual thinks will best protect him or her from danger. Harry Potter's base patronus is you, in your phoenix form."

"And before we get going, we need to perform one final task." At this Harry began to sweat profusely. His right eye twitched from nervousness. "Mr. Peverell Black, would you please come forth? It is time to sort you into your rightful house."

Headmaster Flamel began to clap politely as Harry got up from the Hufflepuff table and made his way forwards. A few others, like Draco, clapped for Harry while others leered at him with the slightest of curiosity.

"What's the point of sorting him?" Shouted Ronald Weasley. Every head turned towards the redhead Gryffindor. "We already know that he's a snake! Just put him in Slytherin."

Harry growled but decided to ignore the little boy. Headmaster Flamel tapped his wand against his drinking goblet. "Please refrain yourself, Mr. Weasley. 5 points from Gryffindor. Now, please come forth Mr. Peverell. Quickly now." Harry internally smirked at Ron's gob-smacked face. The headmaster hardly ever took points off of any student. Ronald quickly shut up and squirmed in his seat.

Harry bowed slightly in front of the sorting hat, much to everyone's curiosity. The hat on the stool chuckled at Harry's formality. Harry came forward and clutched the hat in both hands. Harry's arms shook slightly as he slowly lowered the Sorting Hat onto his head. He turned to face the students and finally sat down onto the stool.

'Ah, Mr. Potter. Welcome back,' The dank, old hat spoke up. 'Thank you for your formality. Not many wizards have ever bowed as a formal greeting. A sign that you will do great things in life.'

'Yeah, whatever. Just get this over with. Please?'

'Hmm. Yes, of course. What's this? Oh my... you seem to have retained the characteristics of all four houses. You now qualify as a Hufflepuff, as well as a Gryffindor, a Slytherin, and a Ravenclaw. Superb! Traits of bravery, strength, ambition, courtesy, loyalty, and knowledge. Excellent! Marvelous! Would you prefer Gryffindor or Slytherin?'

'Oh you better not, you piece of shit! You listening to me, old hat?'

'I prefer that you call me Gerald.' The hat spoke back into the back of Harry's mind in a slightly amused tone.

'Whatever, Gerald the Great Hat of Hats, please just sort me into Hufflepuff with Drake. That's all that I'm asking of you. Damn, can't you just... ugh!'

'Alas, do not worry. I was just messing with your head. Indeed, you belong in all four houses. You cannot be sorted into any of the present houses.'

'Where the HELL are you getting at, Gerald? Listen to me, right now. You are going to–'

The hat forcibly cut off Harry's mental conversation and spoke out loud, "The boy has acquired the traits for all four houses. He belongs in all four houses, and yet, he belongs in none of them. Quite the paradox, if you ask me." The hat chuckled.

Harry groaned. He opened his eyes and immediately looked down at the ground, not wanting to see the faces of his audience. Whispers rippled through the sea of students in front of him.

"What do you suppose we do, Gerald?" Flamel bluntly asked. Harry continued looking at the floor.

Please let me be normal for once, Harry prayed, his heart still stuck in his throat.

"I suppose that we sort Harry Pot – I mean Peverell into the prestigious house of DRAGONFIST!"

"Oh come on!" Harry screamed, abruptly getting up from the stool. "Why couldn't you just fucking say Hufflepuff or something?"

"Language, Mr. Peverell!" Professor McGonagall scolded him. "Five points from... Dragonfist?"

Flamel shined his serene smile. "No need for that, Minerva. I give back those points. Please try to control your tongue next time."

Harry spluttered, blushed, and sat back down onto the stool, refusing to meet the gaze of the other Hogwarts students. "B-but-but-I-you-me-red-him...ugh! There's no such house. Is this some kind of sick joke, Gerald?"

The sorting hat chuckled croakily. "No. This house hasn't been used for centuries, and therefore no longer considered a part of the house system. The last person to be sorted into it was a descendent of Merlin." The noise level rose.

Flamel tapped his wand against his goblet. "Silence, please."

"But how come this house isn't in Hogwarts: A History?" Asked a Ravenclaw by the name Hugo Froster.

The hat continued to answer the questions. "You cannot expect every little secret to be in that textbook. Especially since history is written by the winners. Historians choose what to write about. The author may have chosen not to inform you about this, or may have not known about this.

"This fifth house is for those with a pure heart, a pure soul, and characteristics of all four founders."

A frustrated Hermione Granger shouted, "How can he have characteristics of all four houses if he called me a 'blood traitor'?" Several other Gryffindors agreed and eagerly awaited the hat's answer.

The hat chuckled. "What is this, pick on a Peverell day?" Harry grumbled hid his face in his arms. "Well, if you must know, I would say that it was you who did the wronging, not Lord Peverell. His actions are completely justified. I have examined his mind thoroughly. He shows no signs of prejudice. And you might want to research your terminology. Why don't you go to the library, and look up the traditional definition of the word, 'blood traitor,' Ms. Granger?"

Hermione frowned. "But that can't be right. He obviously insulted me– "

"Please keep your opinions to yourself, Ms. Granger." The hat said in a stern tone, very contrary to his jocund mood. "If there is a single role model in this school, it would Mr. Harry Peverell Black."

Hermione huffed. "Well then, this school is obviously prejudice and –"

"Then leave!" The hat shouted, startling the staff and people in the front. "Please do not disgrace Gryffindor with your closed-mind thinking."

"I believe that is enough." Flamel got up and levitated the Sorting Hat towards the back room.

There was an awkward silence. People looked at Harry, then at the fuming Hermione, and then at the retreating form of the floating hat.

Flamel came back and cleared his throat. He checked his pocket watch and smacked his lips. "It is quite late. Now, I am not sure about how this house works exactly but since there is no dormitory as of now you–" Flamel's speech was interrupted by a blinding flash of light that erupted from the area directly in front of the staff table.

All of a sudden, Harry's black Hogwarts cloak began to change color. The black cotton transformed into a pure white silk cloth. Soon, the entire cloak was a noble white, striped with an elegant golden hue, the hems trimmed with a cyan color. Harry gaped as a small circular table materialized right in front of the staff table. A black flag with a red dragon inscribed within was raised right above the table.

Flamel was caught off guard but quickly recovered. "Well, have a nice night and a good weekend children. Off you go, to your dorms please." Flamel waved his hands and the grand entrance doors flew open. People remained on the spot, still gawking at Harry's robes. Flamel cleared his throat. "I said, OFF YOU GO, little children." Instantly, students began to rush out of the hall. Draco fumbled with his fingers, but in the end, followed his fellow Hufflepuffs to the dormitories.

Harry stayed glued on the spot. "You know what?" Harry mumbled to himself. "The second I meet Fate, I'm fucking her up. Really badly."

"Mr. Peverell, follow me into my office, if you will please?"

Harry tried to swallow, but his throat had gone dry. Nodding his head rapidly, he rushed after the headmaster. The two wizards took a shortcut towards the office.

"Coffee Beans," Flamel spoke clearly upon reaching the outside of the headmaster's office. The gargoyles moved out of the way, allowing the two to go up the spiral staircase. The headmaster walked around his office and promptly sat down on his desk.

"Have a seat," Flamel smiled.

Harry inhaled and exhaled repeatedly. Obliging, he sat across from the headmaster. "Um, why are we here sir?"

Flamel smiled. "Hogwarts, seal this room. Put up all possible privacy wards. Thank you." A golden light lit up the entire room.

Harry frowned as he felt several powerful wards go up into position. Being a RuneCrafter did have its advantages. "Um, sir? What are you doing? Why did you put up all of these wards?"

The headmaster chuckled. "You are very good at detecting raw ambient magic and wards. A good sign of a future RunesCrafter or Warder."

"Um, thank you sir."

"Please, call me Nick in private." The headmaster popped a toffee into his mouth. "You know, I am not very fond of these candies. Caramel toffees are very good, even more so than Albus's lemon drops. But I prefer snacks with high amounts of caffeine. Coffee is a great example."

"Um... sir?" Harry started to finger his wand. Was this some sort of trap? "Why are we... here?"

"You know, you've made quite the impression on Hogwarts this year, Mr. Peverell." The old headmaster scratched his rust-red beard. He rubbed his temples before radiating off a grandfatherly smile. "Or should I say, Mr. Potter?"

A/N: Judge and come hither. Review and help the plot grow.

A/N/2: Most of this chapter is cliffhangers and mass packages of information. This is necessary for building up of latter parts of the story.