Despite his concerns about his relocation, Ben had to admit that the scenery was hypnotizing. The rolling hills of green was unlike anything he had ever seen back home, between Vermont or Ilvermorny. The school he attended for six years was nestled within Mount Greylock in Massachusetts, but that environment was…
Well, it was nothing in comparison to what he had seen of Hogwarts in just mere hours.
He stared out the window of Chewie's hut, watching as a pair of what he assumed were second- or third-year students messed around at the edge of the castle. The edges of their robes dragged across the muddy ground, the brown a stark contrast from the yellow ties around their necks.
He didn't know their names, or their ages, or anything about them. But he could tell they were happy. He could tell that even in the middle of the school day, they were pleased to just be alive, hanging in each other's presence.
It made his chest burn.
Ben turned away from the window and watched as Chewie hunched over his fireplace, preparing what appeared to be a kettle of tea.
"The yellow…" Ben cleared his throat and adjusted in the ginormous chair he sat in—big for even his above-average height of 6 foot 3, "Which house is that?"
Chewie smiled and joined Ben, sitting in an identically ginormous chair. He set two mugs down and hummed. "Well, yellow is Hufflepuff. All students sport their house colors—yellow for Hufflepuff, green for Slytherin, red for Gryffindor, and blue for Ravenclaw."
Ben glanced back out the window, both relieved and disappointed to see the students had disappeared. "Slytherin. That's the house Lord Palpatine was in."
"It was," Chewie provided, sipping his tea, "but every house has produced good and bad wizards."
Taking another few moments to look around Chewie's hut, Ben hardly understood how the man had lived there for going on five years. It was small, especially for a man of his stature, and reeked of rainwater and the outdoors.
"Why do I just have to sit here?" Ben grumbled, before begrudgingly grabbing the mug, "Why can't I explore the school? You practically snuck me through the front door like some sort of illegal pet this morning!"
Chewie sighed and set his mug down, clearly frustrated. "Look, kid, we thought this was the best way to do it. You'll go through the sorting ceremony during dinner tonight. I wanted to bring you here during the day so you could see what the school looked like before what will likely be every student hounding you!"
Ben pursed his lips, displeased with the answer. "You think the students will be interested in me?"
A bewildered expression painted across Chewie's face. "Come on, kid! Of course, they will! You're Hogwarts' first transfer student in four-hundred years. You're American. Not to mention, even though you got some big ears, you've got your parents good looks."
At the compliment, Ben's cheeks flushed pink. "My—my parents' what?"
Chewie grumbled something about teenagers under his breath. "Kid, your dad was a heartbreaker. Your mom is stunningly beautiful. You're a handsome kid."
Ben swallowed. "Funny. No girls ever seemed to think so at Ilvermorny."
And they hadn't, not really. He knew girls seemed to be attracted to him, perhaps physically, but his stiff personality and emotional baggage always proved to be too much.
"Well, you'll have an accent going for you here," Chewie remarked thoughtfully, before jumping to his feet, "Just try to make friends, okay? That's what worried your mother the most."
Ben looked away, closing his eyes in the process. His mother loved to remind him of his solitude. She seemed to think she was pointing out something he didn't already know.
He was well aware.
But there was only so much Ben could do. He wasn't a talkative person, nor what one would call a 'people person'. His quiet personality coupled with his family's notoriety was a recipe for disaster.
People used him.
He was like an animal on display.
What would the Skywalker-Organa-Solo child do next? Would he be a war hero turned Auror like Luke? Would he join the ranks of MACUSA like Leia? Would he become a world-renowned Quidditch player like Han?
Would he become a dark wizard, hungry for power and blood like Anakin?
He squeezed his eyes shut.
He wouldn't be like Anakin.
He couldn't be.
-x-
When dinner rolled around, Rey's relatively good mood from earlier in the day had vanished. Potions class left her smelling like rotted seaweed and with enough homework to keep her up well beyond her usual bedtime. That same foul mood followed her into the Great Hall, especially when she noticed the four massive tables divided by house.
Besides during feasts and other special events, students sat interspersed during meals, not forced to be sectioned by house. Yet that evening, all she saw were seas of green, red, blue, and yellow. It was especially frustrating since Rey desperately needed to speak to Rose about a particularly tricky rune she had noticed in their homework.
With a grumble, she slid beside Kaydel, her eyes locked on the spread of food in front of her. As she scooped a large clump of mash, she glanced at Poe, who sat across from her, digging into a rather juicy looking banger. Each bite he took sprayed juice across his chin, earning a giggle from Jessika, who watched him from beside Kaydel.
Apparently, despite whatever bad blood they held after their past hookup, Jessika was very much still interested in Poe.
Even if he looked like a slob while he ate.
"Why are we sorted by house?" Rey finally asked, before forking a piece of roast turkey onto her plate, "I needed to talk to Rose. Just my luck."
Poe rolled his eyes and finally took to wiping his chin. "I dunno. Nobody said. All I know is the first batch of students were ushered to the house tables. The rest of us followed."
"Do you think—"
The words died in Rey's throat as the once bustling room, previously filled with chatty students, cutlery against dishes, and cackling ghosts, came to a deafening silence. Students from every house watched, mouths agape, as the Sorting Hat was carried into the Great Hall in the hands of the ever-poised Headmaster Kenobi.
Not a sound was made during his journey to the front of the room, except the clinking of his boots against the stone floor. When he reached the staff table, he set the Sorting Hat down, before slowly walking towards his podium.
The students could do nothing but watch with fascination as Headmaster Kenobi made a scene of pouring himself a glass of water, and then proceeding to drink it.
"Ever the dramatic one," Poe muttered, "He brings in that and can't even bloody talk?"
Every Gryffindor immediately shushed him, clearly content to sit in silence and watch Headmaster Kenobi's stalling.
Finally, just when Rey thought she'd flip the bloody table over, the Headmaster stood against his podium, taking one hand to scratch at his greying beard. He smiled at his students, clearly able to read both their confusion and excitement.
"Good evening, students," He began, taking a moment to acknowledge every house, "I'm sure you all have mainly questions. The most pressing one surely being about the lack of treacle tart at dinner!"
His light-hearted humor did not impress a single student. They all stared, still in absolute silence, practically hypnotized by the presence of the Sorting Hat.
Knowing any of his words would quickly be forgotten, Headmaster Kenobi slowly nodded and gently stroked the brim of the hat. He glanced at his students, his face turning serious.
"As I'm sure you all are aware, this evening is not a usual Hogwarts supper. You have been asked to sit with your houses for a reason. Our beloved friend the Sorting Hat's presence is with purpose," He paused, seemingly for dramatic effect, before adding, "Your gossip is right. Tonight, Hogwarts will welcome its first transfer student in four-hundred years."
Headmaster Kenobi made the smart choice to stop his speech, as the hall practically erupted in gasps and screams of excitement. Murmuring filled every inch of the great hall, everyone from the first years to the professors excitedly gossiping about the bit of news. Perhaps he was being kind, or maybe he just enjoyed the excitement, but Headmaster Kenobi indulged his audience for a few moments, letting the conversation continue.
Rey didn't understand the big deal. She had two thoughts, really. The first was that she owed Rose an apology—the girl was right and had the true inside scoop before most of the school. The second, and most important, was that the Gryffindor Quidditch team needed a new Beater. With any luck, this new student could fill that spot.
"Merlin, I sure hope it's a bloke," Kaydel whispered beside her, "We've just about exhausted the selection here, haven't we?"
Poe wiggled his eyebrows. "I'm always here, Kay."
The blonde gagged. "In your bloody dreams, Dameron. If you want a shag, I reckon you better start kissing Jessika's arse, not cracking on with me."
Before Poe could get another word out, Professor Kenobi seemingly reached the end of his kindness. He held out his hands, an effective silencing tool for his hundreds of whispering students. They all immediately redirected their attention to the man, desperate to hear more of his news.
"Our transfer student hails from across the pond. He will enter as a seventh year. I encourage you all to welcome him with open arms, no matter what house he is sorted into." He took a moment, appearing to glance at Professor Skywalker.
The average student may not have identified Professor Skywalker's foul mood, but Rey could. What had her favorite Professor in such a terrible mood since the students returned to school? She noticed Professor Skywalker's nearly imperceptible nod at the same time Headmaster Kenobi did.
With that acknowledgment, he continued. "His name is Kylo Ren."
The moment the name left his lips, the doors to the Great Hall shot open. Chewbacca strolled in with determined steps, his massive shoulders held high. His easily identifiable fur coat appeared to be damp, leading Rey to believe it was raining outside.
But it didn't matter. She didn't care.
She was too busy watching the figure that followed the Hogwarts groundskeeper.
He was tall, perhaps taller than any of the current students at Hogwarts. His dark hair, nearly black, was longer than most, elegantly hanging just past his ears. It looked impossibly soft, even at her distance.
The student, called Kylo Ren, had alabaster skin, nearly glowing in the dimmed lights of the Great Hall. Notably, unlike the rest of the students who wore their robes, he was dressed in all black—a pair of fitted trousers and a black waistcoat over a slightly lighter shirt, the crisp fabric perhaps a glittering silver.
Rey wondered if that was the style in America—sure, wizards wore such clothes in England, but wizarding robes were always the attire of choice, especially for an important event such as arriving at his new school.
Like Chewbacca, the new student followed with determined footsteps, looking confident despite the devoted attention he received from every single student in the Great Hall. In fact, he only appeared to lose his confidence when he approached the Headmaster.
They stared at one another for a few moments, before Headmaster Kenobi squeezed the boy's shoulder. The interaction was intimate enough to make Rey wonder if the pair had met before. And perhaps they had—it certainly wasn't everyday a new student transferred to Hogwarts.
Kylo Ren was ushered to where the Sorting Hat sat and slowly lowered himself to the neighboring seat. He gazed at his devoted audience, showing no signs of embarrassment or nerves. He simply looked...indifferent.
As if being sorted as a seventeen-year-old was completely normal.
"Well then, let's get Mr. Ren sorted, shall we?" Headmaster Kenobi hummed, before picking up the hat. He offered the new student a soft smile before gently placing the hat on his head.
Kylo Ren sat stock-still, shutting his eyes the moment the hat touched his head.
-x-
Hogwarts' ridiculous sorting tradition made Ben nauseous. It was nothing like at Ilvermorny. During his first year, his sorting consisted of the four wooden mascots of each Ilvermorny house picking which students they wanted. While the upper classmen watched from their seats on a floor above, the separation made the sorting seem intimate.
Private.
But this?
It was terrible. Every student, from the wide-eyed curious first years up until the sleep-deprived seventh years watched with morbid fascination as the hat sat upon his head, muttering words as he evaluated Ben's future.
"Hmmm," the voice of the hat hummed, nearly causing Ben to jump out of his seat, "What a fascinating one you are. Intuitive. Knowledge-hungry. I dare say you'd be a fine Ravenclaw," it said, the voice capturing the attention of the entire room, "But I see resilience. Courage. Perhaps, a spot in Gryffindor?"
He clenched his fists. Gryffindor? Did he truly have the same spirit as his mother? His uncle?
"There is a hunger inside you. An ambition not many hold. The sign of a true Slytherin."
Ben still knew little about these houses, but he did recall the mention of Slytherin.
The Hogwarts house that welcomed Lord Palpatine with open arms.
The man that controlled his grandfather. The man that killed him.
The hat seemed to sense his hesitation.
"I feel you fighting your destiny. You know it in your heart. You know what your legacy will be."
Ben swallowed, unwilling to open his eyes. "No," was all he managed to whisper.
The hat laughed. "Yes… Yes… YES! IT'LL BE SLYTHERIN!"
From a corner of the room, Ben registered the sounds of cheers and clapping. He felt the hat being removed from his head. But he refused to open his eyes. He wasn't ready to accept the hat's decision.
His stomach felt heavy.
You're too much like him. Like Vader.
His uncle's words felt like poison. He carefully opened his eyes and glanced over his shoulder, looking towards the teaching staff. His eyes immediately locked with the cold blue of the man that had created so much chaos in his childhood. The pursed lips and disappointed gaze of his uncle was not a reaction he was unfamiliar with.
Ben swallowed and turned back around, glancing over the four long tables of students. Some stared, some celebrated, but most whispered amongst themselves.
He was mildly aware of Kenobi speaking to the students. But Ben simply rose to his feet and stumbled away from the platform. Chewie approached him, looking concerned.
"You okay, kid?" He asked, standing by the head of what appeared to be the Gryffindor table, "I know this can be a lot."
"I'm fine," which wasn't true, not at all, "I just think I need to step outside." He swallowed and shoved up his sleeves, suddenly hot, "Maybe put my robes on."
Chewie just nodded, not willing to argue as Ben nearly tore out of the Great Hell. He wasn't sure if people were watching him. He didn't really care.
He just needed out and he needed out now.
Once out of the hall and around a corner, he pressed himself against the stone wall, taking desperate breaths. His throat felt tight; his skin hot. There was a thrumming in his bones, a sensation he had never quite felt before.
He felt nauseous, yet alive.
His heart felt like hammering out of his chest. He closed his eyes, desperate for some sort of relief.
"Word of advice," a sweet feminine voice began, the English accent dancing across his ears, "Avoid the spotted dick. The house elves use far too many currants."
Ben slowly opened his eyes, his gaze landing on a fellow student. Based on her red tie, she appeared to be in Gryffindor. He hardly cared. He was too taken by her beauty—golden skin, freckled cheeks, hazel eyes, and pink lips overtook his senses.
She smelled of vanilla.
His nerves sung.
"Spotted dick?" He managed to choke out, staring at the peculiar girl, noting her interesting hairstyle of three buns. He wondered if that was a common updo in England. He certainly had never seen anything like it on the girls at Ilvermorny.
His heart nearly burst out of his chest as the girl laughed, her face transforming into a beautiful smile. "Oh, Merlin! I'm so happy I got to say it to you first!" She giggled and shifted on her feet, watching him carefully, "As soon as I heard you were from America, I had to be the one to say it!"
Ben swallowed and nodded, albeit still very much confused. "What exactly…is that?"
The girl grinned. "I dunno how to describe it, really. It's a type of pudding. Got loads of dried fruits in it."
"A pudding called...spotted dick?"
She shrugged, still smiling. "Might just be our legendary British humor."
Ben just stared at her, unsure of what to do or say. "Right. I'll...avoid the spotted dick, then."
"Good. Welcome to Hogwarts, Kylo."
Before he managed anything else, the girl disappeared back into the Great Hall, not even offering him a name. He simply stared at the spot she had abandoned, still transfixed on the delicious scent of vanilla.
It was unlike anything he had ever smelled.
She was unlike anyone he had ever met.
Briefly, he wondered if Chewie was right. Maybe his time at Hogwarts would be an opportunity for a fresh start. A chance to make friends. A possibility for romance.
But those thoughts vanished as another figure joined him in the once abandoned corridor. He tensed, unwilling to move away from the stone wall.
"Chewie said you were changing into your robes. Yet here you are, just hanging about." His Uncle stepped forward, frustration written across his features, "Perhaps you could try a little bit, Ben. Give this an honest go."
Ben scoffed. "I believe the name is Kylo," He explained, before adding a rather snarky, "Professor."
"Watch yourself," His Uncle murmured darkly, "I am your Professor. You will treat me with respect."
Not willing to be in the presence of his Uncle any longer, Ben stepped away from the stone wall. "Have you ever treated me with respect?"
His Uncle cursed and pinched his nose. "We're not doing this right now. Go put on your robes and get back in the Great Hall. You have some anxious peers who would like to meet you."
Ben wanted to argue. He desperately wanted to turn on his heels and escape, hide somewhere where nobody would find him, especially not his uncle. But he knew he couldn't. It would only be a detriment to him anyways—he'd be living with these people.
He might as well get to know them.
-x-
"What was he like?" Jessika practically squealed, staring at Rey with a mixture of jealousy and anticipation, "Was he as tall as he looked? Did he smell good? Was he fit?"
Rey snorted at Jessika's line of questioning, thinking over her meeting with the boy as she shoveled some of the now room-temperature mash into her mouth. His introduction had been a bit of a blur, truthfully. Poe had made the joke about spotted dick and Rey just…
Well, it was an excuse to approach the new student.
Kylo Ren.
Something about him just...pulled her in. She couldn't explain it.
It was how she ended up sneaking out of the Great Hall, practically following him into the corridor. With another spoonful, she considered Jessika's questions.
He certainly was handsome. Up close, Rey immediately noticed the constellation of beauty spots that painted across his alabaster skin, as well as his chocolate brown eyes, splattered with flecks of gold. He was massively tall, and embarrassingly, smelled like pure man.
Or at least what she imagined real men smelled like.
Because she spent most of her time around teenage boys or her professors.
Neither of those were good indicators of what men smelled like.
Truthfully, she was a bit flustered and well, she had never been flustered before. It scared her. It was precisely why she decided to play it cool around Jessika.
Besides, a man like him would certainly go after beauties like Jessika, or Kaydel, or Jannah. Her roommates made her look like a child.
A scrawny, freckled, child.
"Erm, yes, he's tall, most definitely," Rey began, sipping her pumpkin juice, "He was...fit, I'd say."
Kaydel squealed and clapped excitedly. "This is exactly what we needed. A fit bloke with a sexy accent? Merlin, strike me down!"
However, unlike the girls, Poe seemed hardly impressed. "Oh, don't ruin your knickers, Kay. He's a bloody Slytherin. That should flash some warning signs."
"Please!" She snorted, unperturbed by Poe's warning, "DJ was a Slytherin too and I still shagged him sideways." She hummed and pushed away her plate, "Shame he graduated."
Rey barely listened as the rest of the table continued to discuss the mysterious new transfer student. But, for once, it wasn't the spread of food that caught her attention.
It was the sight of Kylo Ren, dressed in his Hogwarts robe, joining the Slytherin table.
-x-
Ben wasn't hungry—the thought of food nearly made him retch—but he couldn't help but eye the spread in front of him. It certainly wasn't the classic foods he grew up eating at Ilvermorny—Wednesdays were usually devoted to comfort foods, like meatloaf, macaroni and cheese, and chicken noodle soup.
He saw turkey and mashed potatoes, but also some sort of pie with brown mush in the middle. Not to mention, massive sausage links. In fact, the students around him seemed to be eating their sausage with mashed potatoes. It was a bizarre combination.
Ben had a feeling he'd struggle with the food.
But not nearly as much as he'd struggle with socializing.
"So, Kyle, was it?" a red-headed boy asked, watching Ben with careful eyes.
"Kylo," Ben quickly corrected, the name sounding foreign on his tongue, "And you are?"
The boy grinned. "Armitage Hux. Everyone just calls me Hux."
Ben nodded, noticing the slight differences in his accent compared to the other students he overheard. "Are you...from England?"
Hux snorted and shook his head, pausing to eat a forkful of an unidentified meat, "No, no, I'm from Ireland. Grew up in County Meath."
"And are you a seventh year?" Ben asked, staring at a carafe of what he thought was pumpkin juice. After careful consideration, he poured himself a glass, knowing with his nerves, hydration would be smart.
"Yes! A prefect too," Hux hummed, before tearing into a bread roll, "Still a bit ticked about not being named Head Boy, if I'm honest." He sulked for a moment, seemingly glancing at the table beside them of yellow ties—Hufflepuff, if Ben remembered—before looking back at Ben. "It is what it is, I reckon."
At the rate Ben was going, he'd have to start writing down all this new vocabulary. What in Merlin's name was a prefect?
Apparently, he voiced that question aloud, since Hux just laughed.
"Well, it's…" He paused, clearly thinking of how to explain the role, "It's like an ambassador for the students. Each house has six—a boy and girl from fifth year and on. We help wrangle students, go on rounds in the corridors, stuff like that."
Ben nodded. "Noted. Is there…anything I should know? About Hogwarts, I mean?"
Hux considered his question. "Well, the house rivalry is the biggest thing I reckon. Most of us crack on, but the biggest tension is between Slytherin and Gryffindor."
Chewie had mentioned a similar sentiment earlier in the day, but before Ben was sorted, he barely paid attention. Now, he couldn't help but glance at the Gryffindor table, his eyes immediately landing on the mysterious girl he had met only moments prior.
Following his gaze, Hux snorted. "Loud, aren't they? That lot is most of the Gryffindor seventh years. Ten of them in total. Our year had a high number of Ravenclaws," he explained, watching as the Gryffindors chatted and laughed, "The tan bloke is Poe Dameron. Gryffindor's keeper."
Ben just nodded. He glanced at the boy mentioned—Poe—but immediately looked back to the girl from before. At least Quidditch was something Ben knew.
Despite his many differences with his father, the two got along when it came to sports. In fact, it was the only thing they ever discussed.
Since his dad was a World Cup champion and all.
"Say, you play Quidditch?" Hux asked, curious, "Our seeker, DJ, just graduated. Probably have a Chaser position open too."
For the second time that evening, his heart skipped. With all the changes in his life, joining a Quidditch team at Hogwarts hadn't occurred to Ben. But now, for once, it seemed Lady Luck may be on his side.
"I do. I'm a seeker, actually."
Hux slammed his fists on the table, glee written across his face. "GWEN!" He screeched, catching the attention of a tall blonde girl a couple of students over, "The American bloke is a seeker!"
The girl immediately jumped to her feet and ran to their end of the table. She slid in besides Hux, eying Ben with glee.
"Gwen Phasma." She said, holding out her hand, "Slytherin's Captain. I play keeper."
Ben cautiously shook her hand, a bit put off by the attention he was receiving from his two housemates. "Uh, hi. I uh…I hadn't exactly decided if I was going to play Quidditch or not."
Gwen rolled her eyes. "Have you played organizational Quidditch before?"
"Yes." And he had—he played seeker for Horned Serpent for a record six years at Ilvermorny.
"At Ilvermorny?" She pushed, watching him curiously, "Is that where you went?"
Ben paused, unsure what to say. He had been instructed by Chewie not to mention his previous school—as it was, the wizarding world was small. If he volunteered that he transferred from Ilvermorny, surely a Hogwarts student with an American cousin would put two and two together.
Since his mother had lied about his educational sabbatical as Ben Solo, then he could lie about his past as Kylo Ren.
"Uh, no," He began slowly, watching her face morph in confusion, "I was, uh, home-schooled. And in America, we have home-school leagues for Quidditch."
Gwen nodded slowly. "Right. We have our first practice on Saturday. Be there."
He nodded dumbly, too surprised by the girl's confidence to say otherwise. Gwen hummed in delight and nudged Hux, a grin growing across her lips.
"Say, if he's any good, we might be able to beat Gryffindor this year!" She practically squealed, glancing over at the aforementioned house's table with disdain, "We have to shut Niima down."
Hux nodded. "Gwen's right—I sure hope you're good, Kylo. You see the girl sitting next to Poe Dameron?"
Ben turned, glancing at the Gryffindor table. His eyes landed on the previously mentioned tan student, and then the girl next to him.
Three buns shook in laughter.
Ben swallowed. "Yes, I see her."
"That's Rey Niima," Hux explained, his tone a bit harsh, "She's the best seeker this school has seen in a long time. A bit of an arse-kisser too."
Of course, she was. Only in Ben's world did the pretty girl he met end up being not only in his rival house, but also playing his position. He continued staring, watching as the girl ate from what appeared to be a bowl of ice cream, before Gwen's voice had him turning around.
"Armie is just a bit ticked because he had a crush on her fourth year," Gwen explained, laughing as she did so, "He's hated her since."
Hux's face crinkled in frustration. "Do not call me Armie! And I do not hate her—I just find her irritating. Such a know-it-all for a muggle-born."
Gwen seemed to wave off his comments and turned to Ben. "Say, you a pure-blood? Slytherin tends to have a higher percentage of them—we get a bad rep for it, but it is what it is!"
Yet another term he wasn't used to hearing. Such ideas of blood purity didn't exist in America. It took America much longer to find a stride with No-Maj relations, but once they did, everyone seemed to co-exist mostly peacefully.
Except two decades ago, when his grandfather and another dark wizard tried to change that peace.
He swallowed and shook his head. "My father's family is No-Maj. My mom comes from a long line of wizards."
Both Gwen and Hux burst into laughter. "No-Maj!" Gwen exclaimed, taking her best shot at an American accent, "That's adorable!"
Ben flushed and shrugged. "Muggles, to you all."
Hux chuckled and shook his head. "You're a riot, Ren. Say, let's head to common room—surely the house elves have moved your stuff in!"
With a nod, he rose to his feet. He followed Gwen and Hux out, aware that the attention of nearly the entire room was on him. It was unnerving.
He thought with a new name, he'd escape feeling like an animal in a cage. He'd escape the lineage he was constantly reminded of.
Yet even as a nobody, people just kept staring.
He looked forward to finally going to sleep.
-x-
The Slytherin common room was nothing like what he was used to. His living quarters within the Horned Serpent tower overlooked the Quidditch field and part of Mount Greylock, colored with warm reds and golds. He woke up every morning to the sunrise, one of the few bits of peace he had in his young life.
But here? Well, his new home was in a dungeon. The room itself was beautiful, styled with massive stone fireplaces, comfortable looking leather chairs and sofas, and a stunningly intricate chess board that immediately caught his attention.
It wasn't enough. It was dark, and cold, and damp.
Perhaps this new home was fitting—a constant reminder of the darkness he felt.
His sleeping quarters weren't much better. There were only five male Slytherin seventh years before he arrived—Hux, Dopheld Mitaka, twins Trudgen and Cardo Knight, and Tritt Opan—with the twins and Tritt in one room, and Hux and Mitaka in the other.
To balance out the rooms, an additional bed was placed in Hux and Mitaka's room, as well as the sleek trunk Ben carried his items in. The once glittering "BOS"—his initials—had been magically altered to simply read "KR".
Ben was starting to feel like he was living someone else's life.
He sat on the edge of his bed and brushed at Starkiller's black fur, thankful for one familiar face. His trusted cat, however, was far more focused on the other pets in the room. Mitaka's fat toad was contently in his small terrarium, its big eyes glowing in the dim light of the bedroom. Hux's ginger cat snoozed lazily on the edge of his bed, sprawled across the green blankets.
"Her name is Millicent," Hux explained, noticing Ben's interest in the pet, "My mum gave her to me two years ago." He waved to the black cat Ben held, "Yours?"
He cleared his throat. "Her name is Starkiller."
Hux raised an eyebrow. "Interesting name." He climbed into his bed and yawned, happily gathering the ball of orange fur into his arms, "Then again, so too is Kylo Ren."
"It's a long story," Ben explained, climbing into the unfamiliar bed. The moment his head hit the pillow, he shut his eyes.
His life was a long story.
At least sleep came easily.