Disclaimer : This work is a fanfiction based off of the Harry Potter Universe created by J.K Rowling. Any Characters, plots and settings already established in this universe belong exclusively to her. I do not nor will I ever claim ownership over them.

I'd also like to point out that the formatting of the location, time and date of each scene is taken from ACI100 with his permission, somebody that I follow on Discord. His stories are truly a work of art and inspired me to write my own so I'd advise also checking his profile out on this site. This will eventually turn into a Multi POV story like his so it is there so as to not completely confuse people. His formatting makes sense and is easy to follow.

Feel free to leave reviews letting me know your thoughts on each chapter or on the story as a whole as I dive further into it. Praise and constructive criticism are both welcome, though outright insults over my writing are not. Anyone who has attempted to write a story knows how much harder it is than it looks and we are all nervous to put our work into the world. We don't need to be made to feel like crap.

The same goes for any mistakes you may find like punctuation, grammar or spelling. I do make it a point to re-read my work thoroughly but there may be things I miss because I am not a robot so feel free to point out things I may have missed if you spot anything. Don't go batshit insane over it like I've seen some people do on here for other works.

Thanks and Enjoy.


Harry Potter and The Forsaken's Awakening

Year One - The Diverging Paths

Chapter Four - Shifting Dynamics


September 1st, 1991

The Great Hall, Hogwarts

10:33 pm

If Evan had gotten the loudest response to his sorting, Harry most certainly had gotten the quietest. The silence was almost deafening. Almost every face was gaping at him. Even the Slytherins, who had been composed, calm and collected throughout, could not resist the temptation to look like whales in the aftermath of his sorting. Only one face amongst the sea of them was different.

Aria was grinning at him, and it was she who broke the silence with the first clap. Several others followed before the Slytherins, one by one, seemed to snap out of their collective trances and followed her lead.

Satisfied, Harry allowed a smirk to cross her face as he walked over to the Slytherin table, his confident walk having remained, but this time, his emotions matching it in perfect synchrony. Sitting next to Theodore Nott, a tall, weedy looking boy with short, light-brown hair, who was opposite Pansy Parkinson, a girl with straight, shoulder-length, dark brown hair and a face vaguely resembling a pug.

His sitting prompted McGonagall to clear her throat and continue with the sorting. There weren't many names left, now. A couple of boys had gone to Gryffindor, including Ron Weasley, Evan's best friend. A boy called Zacharias Smith had gone to Hufflepuff, while a couple of girls had gone to Ravenclaw, and Blaise Zabini, the final person to be sorted, a black boy with obvious Italian descent and very short, black hair, was sorted into Slytherin, taking the seat opposite to Harry and offering him a small nod, which Harry returned.

Soon enough, Albus Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, beaming with his arms spread like some sort of nutty church priest campaigning to everybody as to why they should follow his religion. Petunia had tried to make him go once, and Harry had found it completely ridiculous.

Petunia had, too, apparently, as they had never gone again.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts. Before we begin our undoubtedly fabulous feast, allow me to say a few words. And here they are:

Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you."

Three quarters of the room clapped and cheered. Harry wasn't sure whether to laugh or not.

"Is he mad?" he asked plainly. Judging by the sneers that had been directed Dumbledore's way, the majority of Slytherin were not fans of Albus Dumbledore.

"Definitely," came the drawl from one Draco Malfoy as mountains of food appeared in front of them out of nowhere, almost making Harry lose control of his face. "My father doesn't think Dumbledore is fit to run a farm, let alone the best magical school around. But, some families still believe he is the greatest thing since Merlin himself, including yours." There was a brief pause, where the conversation between the first years around them halted and Harry knew without looking at them that every single one of them were listening intently.

"What's your opinion of Dumbledore, Potter?"

Harry almost laughed. If that was Malfoy's best attempt at trying to undermine him, he really must not have been taught how to do so properly. The boy's father was the leader of a whole faction in the bloody Wizengamot, and Draco was acting about as subtle as a brick being launched through a window.

"I haven't yet formed an opinion of the man, Scion Malfoy. Unlike the rest of my family, I've spent no time at all in his company and I can't really say I'm all that eager to, but when I discover my own opinions on him, and not the ones my mother might tell me, I'll be sure to let you know."

Harry almost cackled with glee when Draco flinched at the emphasis that Harry had put on Scion. This was way too fucking easy. Clearly the boy did not like being labelled as a scion rather than an Heir. He had figured, as soon as Aria had told him that Draco was used to getting everything, that using what he hadn't gotten was the best way to go about neutralising any threat he might pose. Being the heir to a house as powerful as the Malfoys would be an honour for anyone, and it was something Draco had not gotten.

He knew he would have been pissed if he learned that he wasn't the heir to the Potter family himself, so it was a safe assumption that Draco would be, too.

He had also said in a roundabout way that Draco had zero opinions of his own, merely parroting whatever his father said.

At least one person near them found his comment amusing, judging by the smirk Zabini and Greengrass were failing to hide behind their hands and the snort of laughter Nott let out beside him. Malfoy's eyes narrowed on Nott before he started slowly turning red and returning his attention to Harry, who was plating some food.

"Why haven't you spent time with Dumbledore, Potter? Were he and your mother too busy with the Boy Who Lived to pay you any attention?"

It was a decent comeback, actually. Better than he had expected with how subpar his first interrogation had been. It was far too close to the truth for his own comfort, but instead of showing the hurt he still felt at such a thing being true, he let off a subtle smirk. If Draco was trying to not-so-subtly explain how unimportant he thought Harry was, well, it was only fair that he responded in kind.

"Tell me, Scion Malfoy," another flinch, making Harry's smirk grow as he spoke in a slow, educating tone, "As a child with a sibling who happens to be the Heiress of your family, were you always satisfied with the attention you received from your parents? Or did they leave you to play with your toys whilst they taught anything of importance to her? It would certainly explain your complete disregard of custom earlier on the train, but perhaps your parents were too busy with Heiress Malfoy to properly explain them to you, so allow me to correct that."

Harry leaned forward, delighting in the way Malfoy was visibly turning redder and redder, enjoying the way conversation further up the table had long stopped and every eye was fixed upon them. Salivating, in the fact that every single Slytherin was about to watch him publicly embarrass Draco Malfoy.

"You see," he said, louder than necessary to allow his voice to travel down the table, speaking in much the same tone. "When an heir of a Founding House like me, greets you with respect and offers you my hand to shake after introducing myself, custom doesn't dictate that you scoff in said heir's face and completely ignore it. The Heiress of your family seemed quite knowledgeable on the subject, so it simply baffles me that you seem so unaware of our customs. I can only imagine what Lord Malfoy would think if he were to learn of the grievous mistake his second child had made."

Malfoy had now turned chalk white. He had clearly realised that everyone at the table was listening, and that this did not paint him in a good light, at all. If his father were to hear of it, well … it wouldn't be good.

"In fact," Harry continued, still smirking, "Since you seem to be quite capable of imitating exactly what your father thinks, perhaps you'd be so kind as to share with us all exactly what it is that he would say on the matter?"

He tilted his head in questioning with a raised eyebrow, hands clasped together as he waited for a response. Zabini was literally shaking with laughter, and Greengrass and Nott were now openly grinning, In fact, only Parkinson out of the rest of the first years seemed to have a straight face, though she was no longer looking anywhere other than her plate.

With a glance further down, it was rather obvious that Aria was equally as amused as Nott and Greengrass seemed to be, sending him a nod of silent support when he glanced her way, to which he flashed a small smile.

It took Malfoy a while to recover, but eventually he did go to speak.

"I-"

"Heiress Parkinson?" Harry said softly, turning his attention to the girl sitting next to Malfoy and proceeding to completely ignore him, no longer caring for the response he'd been waiting for.

Actually, he'd never cared at all. This was just him simply showcasing how unimportant he thought Draco Malfoy to be that he would rather interact with a member of a lesser house than with him.

The girl in question looked up sharply, fixing her eyes on him.

"Yes, Heir Potter?"

There was no challenge in her voice, despite the fact that he had just blatantly insulted somebody she obviously cared for. It was actually mildly impressive how calm and collected she sounded after witnessing Malfoy get torn apart.

Harry had just noticed that she wore an heiress ring whilst waiting for Malfoy's reply, and had about to ask whether she was the heiress of her family before speaking with her. Thankfully, such a thing had become unnecessary, it might have made him look incompetent by not realising it before.

"Your family owns Parkinson's Mannequins in Diagon Alley, do they not?"

Her eyes lit up at the prospect of talking about something she was so clearly proud of.

"My mother does, yes. She's always been interested in fashion and making everyday clothing to go underneath your robes. I hope to take over it, one day."

"Excellent, an ambition worthy of Slytherin. I myself visited your mother's fine establishment over the summer and I was very impressed by not only the stock, but by how helpful the members of staff were. The runic array on each item in particular fascinated me. Do be sure to give my thanks to the Lady of the Most Ancient House of Parkinson, won't you?"

"Of course," the girl smiled, as if nothing would please her more. "My mother would be delighted to accept the thanks of an heir of a Founding House."

He offered her a small smile of his own, before turning away from her, back to Malfoy, who was back to his normal, pale colour, muttering angrily to himself whilst he did his best impression of Jack the Ripper as he tried to mutilate his chicken with a shaking hand.

"Everything okay with your dinner, Scion Malfoy?"

After a particularly hard stab into his chicken with his knife at being addressed, Malfoy spoke, his voice tight and hard, like he was gritting his teeth with every word.

"Everything is fine, Heir Potter. Why do you ask?"

"Because you seem to be doing your best to render your food into mush whilst muttering to yourself at a frankly incredible rate. I'm simply concerned for your well-being, as one might assume without context that you've started having a nervous breakdown. Doing such a thing in public would be a horrible thing to befall someone from such an accomplished family as yourself. Wouldn't you agree?"

"I am not having a nervous breakdown, Heir Potter," Malfoy growled. "I am fine."

"Good. I'm glad. Happy, even."

He caught Zabini's eye as he looked away, the boy drinking from his goblet tilted it towards him in acknowledgement with a grin forming on his lips before he continued eating.

Dinner and dessert passed without much incident, after that. Nobody else tried to make conversation with him and nor did he with anyone else. Being silent was much easier than talking, for him. It was one thing to recognise Draco Malfoy's weakness and use it to verbally destroy him, it was another to be able to hold normal conversations with people his age.

So far it seemed like it was far easier for him in the wizarding world compared to the muggle world, probably because he was with his own kind. Aria had been very easy to talk to after a while on the train, even if it was her leading the majority of the conversation.

He hadn't struggled to talk like he might have with anyone else.

The only other interesting thing to have happened during dinner was the Slytherin ghost, The Bloody Baron had come floating over and had stopped right next to Malfoy, who hadn't looked at all pleased.

Harry looked up to the staff table, allowing his eyes to run over every face and commit them to memory. Of all of them, Harry only knew Professors Dumbledore and McGonagall. And Hagrid, of course, who thankfully hadn't looked his way once.

Not that Harry had expected him to. Hagrid had been steadfast in his hate for Slytherin, so Harry suspected any chance of Hagrid being nice to him had disappeared.

Thank merlin. One trip around Diagon Alley was about as much as he could tolerate of the man.

He had made eye contact with two teachers, though. The first, being a teacher sitting underneath the large, Slytherin banner on the wall behind the teachers table, with long, greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin. His eyes looked like dark, cold tunnels that stretched on for an eternity. They'd had a staring match for what felt like forever before the man had simply nodded in apparent approval and looked away.

The second was a female teacher sitting next to the first he'd caught the eye of. She had obvious Scandinavian features, with light blonde hair and sea green eyes. There was an expression he couldn't quite figure out on her face as she looked at him, but eventually, she, too, nodded at him and looked away, though her nod had seemed much friendlier.

Eventually, the puddings, too, vanished and Dumbledore was on his feet again, doing that odd wide open armed

thing again.

"Ahem - just a few more words before we are all fed and watered, I have a few start of term notices to give you.

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

Dumbledore's eyes flashed to the set of red-headed twins over at the Gryffindor table. Seriously, how many twins were there in this place? He'd seen a couple of older girls further down the Slytherin table earlier on who couldn't be anything other than twins. He was at four sets and counting, so far.

"'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.

"This year, Hogwarts has the very great pleasure of welcoming a rather exceptional woman onto its staff. Let us please, give a warm welcome to Professor Diana Magnusson, who has kindly taken up the role of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was quite heavy clapping from three quarters of the students, as anyone the Albus Dumbledore called exceptional could only be so, and lighter clapping from the Slytherin table, as the aforementioned female teacher that had been watching him swept gracefully to her feet and bowed to the student body.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of 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."

There was scattered laughter throughout the hall, though it was few and far between. Only one Slytherin, that of which being Parkinson, made any such noise. Said witch promptly told Malfoy that Dumbledore was clearly as insane as his father made the headmaster out to be.

Harry couldn't find it within himself to mention that he thought Dumbledore was being about as serious as one could be. Judging from the looks the other Slytherins around him wore, their opinions were at least somewhat matching his.

After that wonderful bit of advice from Dumbledore, he promptly sent them all off to bed, or rather, telling them to trot off to bed. That, alongside his earlier comments about them being fed and watered, made Harry wonder for a moment if Dumbledore secretly thought them to be horses or something, but that was neither here nor there. Harry doubted he would be interacting with the man all that much, anyway, if at all. He couldn't be bothered to go searching for answers on such a silly question.

A couple of prefects, which introduced themselves as Christopher Vincento and Jessie Lionheart, a very ironic surname, in Harry's opinion, started leading them down to the dungeons, where their common room was, talking about how they would have to memorise the path back up to the Great Hall so that they could get to breakfast, class and such. Malfoy and Parkinson were leading the pack, with Millicent Bulstrode, Crabbe and Goyle behind. Harry found himself standing behind the massive frame of Crabbe, and surprisingly, found Greengrass and Tracey Davis standing each side of him.

A quick glance behind showed Zabini and Nott standing side by side, in line with the gaps between himself and Davis or himself and Greengrass.

The five of them oddly felt like a pack, of sorts.

Led down to the dark corridors of the dungeons, Harry felt like he was walking a maze as they went left and right almost more times than he could keep track of.

Eventually, they made it to an empty stretch of wall, and after the prefects told them the password for the entrance, 'Aconite', the wall slid aside and permitted them entry.

The room was spacious, that much Harry could see straight away. There were round lamps that hung off of the low ceiling, which due to the window which Harry was almost certain led to the lake they had crossed earlier, gave the room an ambient, green glow. The fire was crackling under an elaborately carved mantelpiece ahead of them, and nearest to the fire was a very large lounge area big enough to have at least eight people, set up in a way that they could observe the room in its entirety.

Those were seats Harry knew he was not allowed to sit in yet, as they were exclusively reserved for the student leader of Slytherin and their friends.

A position he wanted for himself one day.

Many of the Slytherins were already there, probably because every other Slytherin had left the Great Hall before them.

"Line up, Professor Snape would like a word with you all."

They did, standing side by side with each other. He was standing third from the left, Zabini on his left and Greengrass on his right.

"Good evening," a quiet, oily voice spoke, before the man that was undoubtedly Professor Snape stepped forth from the shadows, Harry recognising him to be the man who had nodded to him from the high table, sitting next to Professor Magnusson.

"Welcome to Slytherin," he said, voice soft and barely more than a whisper. The man was much scarier up close and like this. "Belonging to the house of Salazar Slytherin is a great honour that comes with its own set of rules and traditions. The first of which is that the password to the common room changes every fortnight, with a noticeboard going up two days before. You will not reveal the password to anybody outside of this house, nor will you ever bring somebody into this house that does not bare our crest. Anybody who disregards my warnings will be punished."

Harry almost shivered. He hated that word.

"The second, is that while being in Slytherin is a great privilege, the rest of the school do not view us in a light deserving of the respect we command. They will not like you. They will not be your friends. They will take every opportunity they can to try and put you down. Slytherin house comes with a reputation that is held against us to this day. Even some of your teachers are not exempt from this.

"The second rule, then, is quite simple. If you are going to do something that breaks the rules, do not get caught. As your Head of House, I will be very lenient with you and protect you as best I can. If you are idiotic enough to get caught doing something you shouldn't by another member of staff, I cannot and will not interfere unless there is very good reason to do so.

"The third rule is that each of you will be subject to a physical examination in the Hospital Wing this Saturday at a time I designate for you, which will be posted on the noticeboard tomorrow afternoon. This examination is not optional, and as some of your housemates can attest to, I am not lenient with those who think skipping it is something that they can get away with. All of your housemates take part in this on the first week, to ensure that you are all as fit and healthy as you can be. My students above first year can decide for themselves what day this week they choose to get theirs done, and I will be checking with Madam Pomfrey to ensure every single one of you has gone."

A physical examination? Harry did not like the sound of that one bit.

"Rule number four is that I only accept your absolute best. You are all Slytherin. We are the house of ambition, resourcefulness and cunning. I expect every one of you to strive towards greatness. Failure to provide anything less than one hundred percent towards anything you do in your seven years here, and I promise you, you will suffer my displeasure.

"And the fifth, and last rule of Slytherin, is that for your first three years here, you will be sharing a room with some of your yearmates. Usually, I would split you all into threes of your own choosing, but as there are only four females joining our ranks this year, the four of you will split into pairs. The boys will split into threes as normal. From your fourth year onwards, all of you will be provided with your own rooms."

Professor Snape stood there, staring down each of them until each of them folded underneath his penetrating gaze and looked away. Even though Harry had not been the last person in the line, Professor Snape had looked upon him last. Unlike the others, Harry had not looked away, had not cowered before the man. He had stood straighter. Prouder. As he stared down his head of house, he felt more determined than he had the majority of the night. Only those few moments before he'd been sorted eclipsed it.

He would be great.

Professor Snape's eyes glinted with approval, Harry had seen enough of it from Petunia and Vernon towards Dudley to recognise it. "Prefects will take you up to the Great Hall at ten past eight tomorrow morning. Do not be late."

Without another word, he swept from the room, black cloak billowing behind him.

The noise around the room had picked up again until Vincento had ordered them into their roommate groups. To his surprise, Nott, who had been the other side of Zabini, and Zabini himself, had immediately come up either side of him and stayed there, apparently having come to some sort of unspoken agreement that he would be the third member of their group.

Greengrass and Davis would be bunking together, as would Parkinson and Bulstrode. That left Malfoy with Crabbe and Goyle.

It was clear, judging by the anger on Malfoy's face, that those two were not the two he wanted with him.

Harry felt quite smug about the whole thing.

At least, he had felt smug, until he found his path to the dorms suddenly blocked by three boys, each of them taller than himself.

"Excuse me," Harry tried, attempting to move past them. They didn't let him.

"It looks like someone's a little lost, doesn't it?" the boy in the middle started, questioning the two boys either side of him. "Shouldn't you be in Gryffindor with the other brainless little shits?"

The room quietened to a hush, everyone eager to see if something would happen the first night back.

"Personally," the same boy continued, "I think the sorting hat is losing its touch. I think it's a disgrace to the name of Salazar Slytherin that a Potter wears his crest."

Harry couldn't help hearing the muted murmurs of agreement scattered around the room. There weren't many, but they were there, and they angered him.

"Then it's a good thing I don't care about what you think then, isn't it?" Harry replied, not so much as giving him an inch.

"Watch your mouth," the other boy growled. "You don't want me as your enemy, Potter, I assure you."

"Is there a problem here, Travers?"

Another person had interjected themselves into the conversation, and Harry could already recognise it as Aria's voice.

She stepped up to the side of him, placing a hand gently on his shoulder, making him go almost rigid with tension. Aria gave him a brief, concerned glance out of the corner of his eye, but he ignored it, so she simply turned back to the three boys that had accosted him, raising her eyebrows.

"How about you, MacNair? Mulciber?" she asked, facing the boys either side of Travers.

"Stay out of this, Malfoy," Travers hissed.

"I don't think I will, since you seem to be acting rather aggressively towards an acquaintance of mine. If you're looking to cause a problem, I can happily give you one."

There was an edge to her voice he'd not heard before, a challenge to fight them on his behalf. Nobody had defended him before, and he honestly didn't think anyone would. He felt oddly warm inside because of it.

"We're not scared of you, Malfoy," Travers sneered, taking a step forward. His two friends immediately followed.

"Then, perhaps if you aren't afraid of her, you'll be more afraid of me."

It was another new voice, one he didn't recognise this time, though judging by the small grin plastering itself onto Aria's face, she most certainly did. Harry turned to get a look at the new person who was getting themselves involved with the ever-growing confrontation.

It was a tall, pale boy with sharp, well-defined features, hair as dark as his that was shaved quite short at the sides and back, and curly on the top. Perhaps the most easily distinguishable feature on him, though, was his eyes.

They were violet in colour.

The new boy stepped up beside Aria, staring down the boys opposite her and Harry, standing a good three or four inches taller than them. He had spoken in a soft voice that sounded far more dangerous than anything Travers had conjured up.

"Lestrange," Travers greeted awkwardly, no longer nearly as confident as he had been moments before. It was very clear that he was afraid of the other boy.

"Did I hear correctly from my position over at the other side of the room, Travers? Were MacNair, Mulciber and yourself threatening to harm not only Heir Potter, but my cousin as well?"

Ah, so this was the Raphael he had heard about on the train.

"We-"

"Because I assure you," Lestrange cut him off, speaking in that same deceptively dangerous tone, "That if she were to so much as be hit with a tickling charm from any of your wands, that all three of you would be spending an entire month in the hospital wing, is that clear?"

All three boys, to Harry's surprise, nodded rapidly before retreating down towards the dorms, but not before Travers had sent him one last death glare. Harry got the message well enough.

They weren't done.

Such a sudden submission, though. Who was this new guy to be able to cause three boys to instantly run in fear?

"Thanks, Rafe. I believe I could've taken Travers, but all three of them together might've been a stretch," Aria quipped, turning to face her cousin, still not taking her hand off of his shoulder.

"I agree with both statements, and you're welcome."

Lestrange moved so that he was now between them and the dorms, this time facing Harry.

"You said Heir Potter was an acquaintance of yours?" he said, still not taking his eyes off of Harry, scrutinising every inch of him. It was slightly unnerving, being under the watchful gaze of those purple eyes.

"We ended up sharing a compartment for the train ride. He was pleasant company."

Lestrange nodded, still focused on him before he stuck out a hand, ring glistening on his finger.

"Raphael Lestrange, Heir to the Founding House of Lestrange."

Harry, thankful for the older boy's interference against the three boys who seemed to have something against him, shook it immediately.

"Harry Potter, Heir to the Founding House of Potter."

"You do not wear your ring," Lestrange said after a moment of silence as their hands parted. It wasn't phrased like a question, but Harry knew it to be one. Anyone would be curious, he supposed, as to why an heir was not wearing his ring.

"It's … complicated," Harry admitted, unwilling to share anything else on the matter. Truthfully, he had no idea if he would ever be getting his hands on that ring. Part of him wondered if Evan had received it instead. It wouldn't surprise him.

"It never should be, but I'll take your word for it," the older boy replied easily, before nodding to them and retreating down to the dorms himself, leaving Harry with Aria. Zabini and Nott had taken the opportunity to head down after Travers and his friends had left.

"Malfoy," he said, turning to her. She had been immensely helpful, today, and now she was sticking up for him, and he honestly had no idea why. "Thanks."

It was all he could say.

"Aria."

"Pardon?"

She smiled, maybe the biggest smile she had given him all day. "It's Aria to my friends and people I like."

The implication was quite clear. They weren't truly friends, yet. They hadn't known each other long enough to class each other as such, but he had made a very good impression on her, and she was willing to explore the option of friendship with him.

For the first time in years, Harry allowed a true smile to cross his face. It felt odd, like trying to do something you were out of practise on usually was, but it also felt really fucking good.

"I guess I wouldn't be opposed to you calling me Harry every now and then," he replied, tilting his head up arrogantly and donning a false haughty attitude that did not suit him at all.

She laughed at that, covering her mouth with her free hand, eyes bright, and her smile was once again in full force when she eventually uncovered it, before she gently squeezed his shoulder and let go.

"Goodnight, Harry."

And she was gone, heading down the same steps everyone else had.

Walking down them himself, feeling better than he had in a very long time, Harry walked down the corridor that had a first year boys sign on it on his left from the main corridor, dimly noting across the hallway to the right was the first year girl's hallway. When he reached the door which already had the names Theodore Nott and Blaise Zabini written on a sign next to it, Harry stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

It was very cosy, he had to admit. There was a soft, green carpet on the floor, and a nice window that went out to the lake.

There were beds. Actual beds, with warm duvets and pillows and it was the most heavenly thing Harry had ever seen. There wasn't much else besides the bedside table and the curtains you could pull for some privacy, but that wasn't the important bit.

He had a whole fucking bed.

Undressing down to his vest and underwear at his designated bed by his trunk, and opening his trunk and putting on his pyjamas, Harry climbed into his bed, revelling at the warmth and comfort he was feeling. It felt better than anything he had physically felt in his life, and he had to blink away some water that was gathering in his eyes to not look like a total weirdo, even if only to himself as Zabini and Nott could not see him.

This had easily been the best day of his life, without question. He couldn't wait until tomorrow.


Author's Endnotes :

This marks the end of Chapter 4. I thought about adding another two scenes in at the end, one with a different POV, but then realised that not only did I not have any idea how long that scene would end up being, but that I could save it for a later chapter down the line. So you guys will just have to wait for that.

Honestly, this chapter really didn't feel that long when reading it back, yet it turned out to be over 5k in words. Crazy. For me, the Snape scene was difficult to write, because I'm unsure if I managed to get down Snape's character for this particular scene. I'm confident in my ability to do him quite well for the majority of the scenes I have him in so far, but this one pained me.

The Harry owning Draco scene was fun. This story isn't so much him being able to talk like a genius as it is him having literally been told how to deal with Draco by Aria in a rather roundabout way, and also hearing Vernon manipulate his dinner guests from the confines of his cupboard over and over again into getting a deal, or doing so over the phone. Whatever you say about the man, he was a decent businessman.

Having him attack Draco's status as a Scion rather than an Heir, and bringing up his lack of showing custom on the train in front of an entire table to traditional purebloods would definitely damage Draco's reputation.

Harry's sudden influx of people around him, and him struggling to deal with all of it is going to come up. I'm not just going to forget that Harry is uncomfortable around people in this story. In fact, I thought I kept it quite realistic by only having him talk to Draco and Pansy at the feast, then staying quiet for the remainder. I did mention that he struggled with crowds, and that will continue.

Also, I really liked writing the Aria and Harry scene at the end. A bit of fluff never hurt anybody, am I right? Maybe it's a bit too soon for Harry to be dropping a real, true smile, but hope is blossoming within him that he will be able to fit in and a normal kid with friends just like everyone else. While he wants to stand alone in the magic department, being the most skilled and powerful to ever go to Hogwarts, friends, no matter how much he thought he wouldn't have, was something he did desire.

Raphael Lestrange was somebody I really wanted as a character. Originally, he was going to be a female Lestrange in Harry's year, but I scrapped those plans pretty quickly. I already have enough females in this story I plan on introducing. More males are definitely needed, and having Raphael be older and powerful for his age is something that opens up another subplot later in the story.

He just didn't believe he would make any because of Evan being the Boy Who Lived.

Anyways, leave a review and let me know your thoughts. Chapter 5 will be started tomorrow, and I already know it'll be a good one.

Until next time.