A/N: Sadly, I own neither Code Geass nor Harry Potter.


Year One
Stage 09 - Settling In


After Lelouch sauntered off to Slytherin, completely unaffected by the deafening silence, the whispers at last broke out. Harry Potter had gone to Slytherin! How scandalous! Would Magical Britain's saviour turn to the darkness? Had he already? Did he survive He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's killing curse by being an even greater and more terrible wizard?

Kallen rolled her eyes and ignored the nonsense. This was going to Ashford all over again, wasn't it?

Professor McGonagall proved unable to quieten the students as this was simply too big to sit on when one could speculate and gossip. Then the headmaster rose. Those with a strong muggle background found themselves hushed by their neighbours. Those from magical families needed no encouragement, not even those from rival political factions.

Thus did Dumbledore return to his seat without saying a word.

Right. Don't mess with the wizard king. Good reminder.

The five remaining sortings proceeded with little interest and no further spectacle. Each of the big names had already gone by. No great surprises followed. The hat only needed a few moments for each unsorted child to finish its work. Gryffindor got Sophie Roper, Dean Thomas, and Ron. Lisa Turpin went to Ravenclaw. Lastly, Blaise Zabini ended up in Slytherin. It was a perfectly unremarkable end to, from what Kallen had overheard, the most interesting sorting ceremony in decades.

Now that all of the incoming students had joined their new houses, Dumbledore rose once more. He spread his arms wide with a welcoming smile. When he spoke, it was with a cheer that said there was nowhere else he'd rather be. "Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Oddment! Blubber! Tweak!"

Dumbledore sat back down. Everyone clapped. Some cheered. Even the new muggle-raised students went along with it after a moment's hesitation, Kallen included.

Internally, she wondered what the point of that had been. Did Dumbledore just spout a lot of nonsense so he could slip important things under the radar without notice? Had that been important somehow? It sounded kind of like the secure passwords Rakshata had 'gently encouraged' her to use. But then maybe she was just overthinking things. Perhaps he was simply a bit mad. She'd certainly heard rumours to that effect, although in her opinion, they tended to paint him as eccentric far more than unstable. And after the colourful cast of characters she'd had to deal with in her last life both before and after the Zero Requiem, she would know.

Once the noise died down, Dumbledore officially began the feast. A vast quantity and variety of food appeared on each table in the Great Hall. It leaned heavily on the richest of English food, to Kallen's mild annoyance, but she supposed she couldn't have expected anything else. Most children, magical ones especially, didn't appreciate the benefits of a healthy diet. Perhaps the day-to-day menu had a more balanced approach. On the other hand, she should see if there was a way to place requests with the kitchen staff. No rule forbid it that she knew of, but neither was it explicitly provided for.

At any rate, Kallen turned her attention toward engaging with her new housemates nearby. She'd already met them all on the Hogwarts Express and thus found herself as the general centre of attention as the one person everyone knew. Little side conversations popped up from time to time, of course, but for the greater part, their year group as a whole joined in on one big discussion of the trivial sorts of things children and students cared about.

When even the most ravenous of appetites were sated and the tables picked clean of pudding, Dumbledore rose once more to address the crowd. The hall fell silent.

"Ahem. Just a few more words now that 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 pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Kallen had already gathered that the Forbidden Forest was forbidden, but good to know.

"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."

Hogwarts might as well ask its collection of young witches and wizards to cut off their own wand arm. It'd get the same level of compliance.

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

Kallen discarded that information as useless. Sports tended to be a quick path to power during one's school years, but she'd rather get involved with one that had sensible rules and wouldn't waste her time long-term. Otherwise put, she needed to look into joining whatever duelling club existed here.

"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."

Say what now?


"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."

At the Slytherin table, no small number of significant looks passed between its ranks. Some expressed disbelief. Others, humour. A few kept to themselves with a scheming eye. The more competent plotters within the house no doubt concealed or disguised their thoughts more fully. If they had contacts within Gryffindor, they'd probably know why this mysterious corridor was so dangerous within the week.

Daphne, in contrast, felt her lips press into a thin line and let her brows furrow. Something about that warning niggled at the back of her mind like a long-forgotten memory that hadn't seemed very important at the time. Since she'd never been to Hogwarts before and had only ever sort of met Dumbledore once, she could only assume that impression came from one of her visions. She was just about to tell Tracey that they would need to do some reading tonight, a daunting task to find a vague detail amongst all of their records when it came to her.

Hermione Granger died.

Until today, Daphne hadn't had any context for the name. She'd known there was a Quibbler reporter who went by it but hadn't possessed anywhere near enough information to do more than to uselessly warn Hermione Granger that she would eventually die somehow and that Daphne would find out about it while at Hogwarts. It could have been of old age in bed surrounded by family for all she'd known. Thus she and Tracey had written it down years ago and had promptly forgotten all about it.

But now it made sense. One of her classmates would die during her early school years, probably in the third-floor corridor. Hermione Granger was too unique a name for this to be a case of mistaken identity.

Daphne's eyes drifted to the girl in question sitting peacefully and unaware at the Hufflepuff table and then flicked over to Potter seated only just across the table from her. Her visions, for all their fickleness, came with recurring themes. Harry Potter was a veritable motif. In the varied futures she'd foreseen, he ran the spectrum from husband to archnemesis. The absolute worst ones tended toward one extreme or the other.

One thing above all else became clear to her: if ever there was a moment to meddle with time, it was in the death of Hermione Granger. If there was even the slightest chance her fate hadn't yet changed, Daphne needed to avert it. Losing her would so obviously mark the beginning of Potter's descent into darkness that it was archetypal.

Now Daphne only needed to figure out how to do it without giving away that she was a seer.


"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."

Up and down the table, the glint of interest found its way into far too many Gryffindor eyes. Even the first years had already caught the adventure bug. Neville, sitting quietly to the side and watching on from the background as he was accustomed to, spotted the teams as they formed to tackled the third-floor corridor. Furtive looks and significant gazes gave it all away, and he couldn't help but wonder.

What am I doing here?


"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."

For the life of him, Draco didn't know what to make of Dumbledore. He was a half-blood muggle-lover, obviously, but that wasn't the point. Everyone knew old age had struck his mind like a bludger near the end of the last war, yet he'd nonetheless managed to remain both Magical Britain's premier politician and an able administrator capable of juggling three entirely separate positions of note. It was somewhat terrifying that he could be so adept as a mad old man. What must he have been like in his youth? It was a frightening thought and made sense of how he'd gained so much power.

Regardless, Draco resolved to write home about this strange announcement. His father, being on the Hogwarts Board of Governors, should know more about the situation. If not, then they might be able to leverage this against Dumbledore if it turned out to be anything more than an old man's ramblings.


"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."

Lelouch arched an eyebrow. In his experience with children, that sort of warning would only egg them on. Milly, certainly, would have rushed off to the corridor at the first available opportunity; age had only ever granted her longer legs to get into trouble faster. There was no chance someone who'd spent so many years in education wouldn't come to the same conclusion.

Indeed, the wording of the warning itself gave the game away. Lelouch spotted the obvious loophole immediately: it wasn't actually against the rules to venture into the third-floor corridor, only not advised. Then again, considering that he had chosen to die a very painful death once already, for him, at least, one could argue that it was outright permitted.

Well, I can't deny that I'm curious. I suppose I might as well take the bait.

Hogwarts, after all, had a truly exceptional safety record for a magical school. What was the worst that could happen?


"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."

Minerva clenched her teeth and decidedly did not grind them no matter how much she wanted to right now. She trusted that Albus at least had a reason for all but challenging her lions to run the gauntlet, but he better be prepared for a verbal lashing if she found it even the slightest bit wanting.

"And now," Albus continued once he'd let the students' interest unsuitably peak, "before we go to bed, let us sing the school song! Everyone pick their favourite tune, and off we go!"

Oh yes, and then there was this wonderful experience. Minerva subtly cast a silencing spell about herself and prepared to wait out the ear-gouging cacophony.


Having grown up in an environment where everyone, even rebellious children like Kallen, received some degree of vocal coaching as part of their core education, Lelouch could honestly say he'd never heard a worse attempt at song in his life. For whatever reason, Dumbledore seemed content to let this crime against music play out to its natural conclusion. The Weasley twins carried on for a few minutes longer than anyone else, setting the school song to the slow tune of a funeral dirge. Lelouch pinched the bridge of his nose, idly made note of who around him could actually carry a tune, and then breathed a sigh of relief when the torture finally finished.

With that, Dumbledore dismissed everyone to retire for the evening. Past the Ravenclaw table, Lelouch noticed Kallen waiting to catch his eye. Once he had, she gave him a wave goodnight before, after he nodded back, she turned to join the rest of the Hufflepuff first years on their way out.

"First years!"

Lelouch inwardly heaved a sigh. He'd not truly experienced boarding school life at Ashford. Ruben had given him and Nunnally their own flat away from everyone else to better remain in the shadows. Now he had to deal with a curfew, gender segregation, and probably roommates who weren't bedmates as well. He was too old for this.

Nonetheless, he joined his classmates and gathered around two older Slytherins who introduced themselves as the fifth-year prefects. The boy, one Morgan Burke, affected an aristocratic air that wouldn't have been too out of place amongst the more insufferable members of Charles's court. The girl, who introduced herself as Diana Ferrum, instantly had Lelouch wary. The blonde hair and the silvery blue eyes gave her a passing resemblance to C.C.'s older appearance, and something about how she held herself screamed Milly. That was a dangerous combination.

The walk to the Slytherin rooms was a short one. In the Entrance Hall just adjacent to the Great Hall, a side door led into a series of descending stone steps. At their base far below, they let out into what Ferrum termed Hogwarts's dungeons. Having been in, thrown others into, and broken allies out of real dungeons, Lelouch was not impressed. This was a basement and a well-kept one at that. He did, however, not miss a very intriguing bit of information.

"Never follow a Gryffindor into part of the castle you've never been before," Ferrum said in warning. "For any reason," she emphasised. "The dungeons and your classrooms are fairly stable, but the less trodden paths are prone to change when no one's watching. If you get lost, stop and wait for help. If you don't, if the search parties find you, we won't see you again for weeks."

Having had the displeasure to wander lost through C's World before with C.C. and Kallen, Lelouch made note of the similarities. Perhaps Hogwarts had some connection to the Thought Elevators. That was, however, a hypothesis to explore later. For now, he followed everyone else to stand in front of a bare stretch of stone wall.

"Adenosine."

With the password given, for it was clearly such, the wall in front of them parted brick by brick in much the same manner as the entrance to Diagon Alley would. They spun and folded away to reveal a passage into the Slytherin common room.

As it did, Lelouch arched an eyebrow. He asked of the prefects, "Who sets the password?" In answer, he learnt that it was their head of house, Professor Snape, who apparently had at least a passing knowledge of nonmagical science. He wondered what message he was meant to take away from it as, from what he could tell, the only person in his year who understood the meaning. If he had made the choice, it would be a stealthy jab at blood purism.

Regardless, the group stepped forward. The Slytherin common room was a long hall with many corridors branching off to each side and several round, green lamps hanging from chains providing illumination from above. At the far end, a fire crackled under an elaborately carved mantelpiece. Numerous furnishings dotted the path between it and the entrance, all of which unsurprisingly fit the very definition of posh. This was the house of the ambitious and the cunning. Appearances mattered. There was a time and a place for false humility and the veneer of humble means, but that was not in the privacy of their own personal quarters.

"Listen up," Burke said. "Slytherin has rules that you will follow. First, politics stays out of your bedrooms. I don't care what opinions you hold, who your parents are, if your father hates his father, or who got one over on whom. We all have to live together here. If you can't deal with that, you'll be sleeping outside if Professor Snape is in a generous mood."

Lelouch got the sense that the man was rarely so inclined.

"Second, you will not bring or otherwise arrange for anyone not of our house to enter our common room. Other houses may not care, but they tend not to accrue enemies as we do. This is everyone's private retreat. Respect it as such."

That seemed fair enough. Milly had instituted a similar policy for the student council building at Ashford only slightly modified to allow those with official business to come and go. Lelouch had made his home there, and he had most certainly possessed many enemies to hide from at the time.

"Third, do not enter a room not your own without permission. Personal wards tend to interact poorly with Hogwarts's, and we will not have petty spying and counter security killing us all. You're otherwise free to do as you wish within your quarters, but all matters of trust in this house come with equal levels of responsibility. We expect more from you than a Gryffindor. Do not abuse your privileges."

Well, that was something. The less oversight Lelouch had to deal with, the better.

Switching off, Ferrum added, "Lastly, the core tenet: don't get caught," with a sly smirk and a saucy wink that probably went over the heads of a bunch of eleven-year-old children.

"Obviously," Burke said brusquely.

Lelouch couldn't, in any honesty, claim the moral high ground, but that seemed a poor lesson to impart upon children. Especially this particular group of children who, with the current status quo, would someday become some of the primary movers and shakers within Magical Britain.

"Now then," Ferrum said, "first years have the rooms down the corridors nearest to the entrance." She gestured first to the left and then to the corresponding opening to the right. "Two to a room this year. You're free to swap as you please. If that becomes a problem, you will have assigned rooms. The house-elves will send up your trunks once you decide where to settle and give you a key to your door. Questions?"

As there were none, they were given final instructions to be up for breakfast tomorrow morning to receive their class schedules and were then dismissed to decide amongst themselves who would share space with whom. The girls didn't have to speak to naturally divide into Greengrass and Davis with Parkinson and Bulstrode sharing the other room. For his part, Lelouch decided to stick with a known quantity for now and shared a look with Draco, who promptly accepted the silent offer. Crabbe and Goyle made up the next pair with Nott and Zabini rounding out the last one.

And with that, they retired for the evening to unpack and prepare for the next day. Lelouch had hoped that Professor Snape would make an appearance so that he might see where he stood with the man before they met in front of the whole school, but perhaps this was for the best. He could let things settle and then approach the man in the morning in private. His memories from his time with the Potters were murky at best, but he could only imagine how frustrating it must be to have to suffer the presence of the son of one's best friend and schoolyard nemesis.

He banished the image of Suzaku and Schneizel presenting their child to him the moment his mind unwillingly conjured it.

The night pressed on, and Draco took up writing a letter home to share the news of his sorting. Lelouch, meanwhile, curled up in bed with a good book to pass the time until his young body grew tired far too early for his liking. As he turned from one page to another, he idly wondered how Kallen had settled in with the Hufflepuffs.


The Hufflepuff basement was alive with song and dance while the butterbeer flowed freely. The Welcome Feast was one thing, but this was the real party. Friends celebrated their reunion. The lovers amongst the house, obvious in their affections, enjoyed their time together. Everyone made the first years feel at home, showed them around, and made introductions. Even some of the plants of all things danced and sang along with everyone else.

Kallen couldn't wipe the grin off of her face. Living in Britannia, the only parties she'd gone to were formal events with Nunnally. This felt more like one of the Black Knights' celebrations after a major victory, and what a way it was to welcome their new housemates.

When the music faded, she made her way over to the piano and swapped out with Gabriel Truman, the fifth-year boys' prefect. She cracked her knuckles and then broke into a swinging jazz song. To her surprise and delight, there was a couple present who knew how to swing dance, and they were good enough to draw a crowd of interested onlookers clearly eager to learn by fumbling but spirited imitation. It was too bad Lelouch wasn't here. Euphemia had taught him to dance when they were children, and she knew from personal experience how well the lessons had stuck.

A pair of arms wrapped themselves around Kallen's shoulders. The surprise made her miss a beat, but only just. When she turned to look and see who was hanging off of her, a brunette she'd never met before stared back. Of course, the subsequent wink and shift in eye colour from brown to a striking green made the girl's identity immediately obvious, if surprising.

"Hey, Arsènie. You gonna join in or just weigh me down?"

'Don't call me Nymphadora' Tonks grinned and hopped over the piano's bench. She shoved Kallen over with a bump of her hips and said, "Try to keep up, Bookworm."

With four hands between them, they went for a more ambitious song from the magical world's musical canon. Kallen had far less practice at it, but she kept pace well enough for her audience to cheer her on more so now that they actually recognised the song than ever. Hufflepuff tended to accrue more muggleborn and muggle-raised than any other house, but they were still by far in the minority.

When they finished their little impromptu piano duel with, from the applause, both walking away victorious, they tagged out with the next player. Kallen picked up a foaming mug of butterbeer for each of them, and they retreated to what in Hufflepuff constituted a private corner. They knocked mugs together, downed half of each, and then collapsed onto a pair of overstuffed armchairs.

Or rather Kallen fell into her chair. Tonks awkwardly hit the edge of the armrest and nearly spilt her remaining butterbeer all over herself. Had Kallen possessed any doubts about the woman's identity, that would have put them to rest. No one could replicate that clumsiness with such genuineness.

"You're getting rusty," Kallen said in jest, ignoring that little faux pas.

Tonks rolled her eyes. "And I still say you cheat somehow. No one your age should be that good with their fingers."

Despite being all but certain that was an innuendo, Kallen only smiled mysteriously back in invitation. Tonks took the offer and launched a legilimency attack. Kallen gave her room to manoeuvre and try something new before promptly ejecting her from her mind without having so much as lifted a smell from her short-term memory.

Tonks clicked her tongue. "Remind me to ask the Lovegoods to give me pointers on occlumency sometime."

"I'm not entirely certain their methods would help you," Kallen replied with a chuckle. Even C.C. had trouble navigating their minds, and she had centuries of experience to draw upon.

Muttering something under her breath, Tonks lifted her mug to her mouth and knocked back another swig.

"So Ms Lupin," Kallen began, "what brings you here? Don't tell me you lied about graduating."

Tonks subtly waved her wand in a pattern Kallen recognised as a silencing spell. The armrest kept the action concealed from everyone else, and given the current state of affairs, if anyone noticed, they wouldn't think anything of needing a bit of quiet. Tonks's face showed far more exasperation than seriousness, however, so Kallen felt no need to worry over the need for privacy.

"You know the new minister, right?"

With a roll of her eyes, Kallen said, "I didn't vote for him." She wasn't sure how to feel about Bagnold or how involved the woman had been in Lelouch's abuse in the Dursleys' home, but she would take a competent administrator any day over a bought fool like Fudge.

"Yeah, I know," Tonks said. "But his brainchild is why I'm here. He knows what went down with Harry behind the scenes, and he doesn't want to risk anything like that happening on his watch."

Kallen pinched the bridge of her nose. "Let me guess. He wanted to do something stupid like post a huge guard that would utterly isolate Harry and ruin any chance he had of making friends?"

"From what I heard, pretty much. I think he had the brilliant idea to use dementors as well."

This time Kallen closed her eyes and breathed deep to keep a civil tone. "Right. So?"

"Well, Lady Bones talked him down." Tonks flicked her head toward a familiar ginger girl. "Little Susan's aunt."

Kallen nodded. She'd already made that connection back on the Hogwarts Express, but those little bits of information everyone else just knew did often help. "She told him not to stick his nose in auror business?" she then asked.

"Yeah. Still, he wanted someone looking after Harry so he can say he did his job if something happens. Not that it's at all his job, but whatever. She compromised on sending me undercover. I don't know the details, but she was very explicit in that nudge nudge wink wink sort of way that no one but the professors is to know I'm here. So, you know, if anyone asks, you have no idea who I am."

"Uh-huh. So when Harry and I take lunch with you every third day and invite you to dinner on Sundays…"

Tonks somehow managed to keep a straight face as she replied, "You say that I'm just a successive series of meal exchange students from Beauxbatons."

"And when the Slytherins notice someone they don't know lurking around their common room?"

"Just an unusually corporeal ghost," Tonks said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Kallen rolled her eyes. "Shall you share his bed as well?"

"Nah. I hear he's got his hands full with two girls already."

"True, but I meant as a boy."

Tonks smirked and said, "Ooh, haven't tried that yet. Think he'd be into it?"

That drew a scoff from Kallen. The things Tonks said to get a rise out of people. In all honesty, though, she would be a little surprised given how he'd carried on with Suzaku if Lelouch wasn't at least a little bi-curious.

After a final sip of her butterbeer, Kallen set her mug aside. "Somehow," she drawled, "I get the strange feeling that our beloved minister hasn't entirely thought through his brilliant plan."

"Yep. But I'm here, so if you need me, your friend Arsènie Lupin is on call."

Kallen offered Tonks a smile and her thanks. "But won't this cut into your auror training?"

"Hermione," Tonks said flatly, "I'm a metamorphmagus. You know how rare that is. It doesn't matter what I want. I was always going to be sent out on undercover and infiltration missions. As far as anyone important is concerned, this is low-risk field training for me."

That was a fair point. The Black Knight in their infancy had always been do or die. The recruits who survived certainly knew what they were doing, but Kallen wouldn't call that training so much as putting people through a sieve to find out who had natural talent or prior experience, not a method she would recommend in better times like these.

"Well, if you need something to do," Kallen led, "I would appreciate a few hours of your time every so often to sling spells at each other."

"Defence practice? Gladly."

"I'd prefer real battle magic," Kallen corrected. She would take what she could get from someone who she knew had talent, but if Tonks was willing to offer more…

And there grew a grin on Tonks's face. "Ooh, I knew there was a reason I liked you. And I can sell this as training up Harry's own personal little bodyguard, too, if necessary."

No matter how much things changed, it seemed some things would always stay the same.

"I suppose I could also use some tame stuff so I can join the duelling club," Kallen added.

"Ah." Tonks awkwardly scratched her cheek with a finger. "Sorry to break this to you, but there's not actually a duelling club at Hogwarts."

A moment passed in silence between them.

"What?"


Lelouch awoke early the next morning and went through his daily ablutions at a relaxed pace. If Kallen was any measure of the odd hours potioneers kept, it would be a toss of the dice at any time of day on whether Professor Snape would be available or even awake outside of classes. So long as he made it out of the Slytherin quarters before breakfast, he saw no reason to hurry.

Not long later, he emerged into the common room. Only a handful of people were already up and about, although that number included both of the seventh-year prefects. He recognised a few faces from the night before, but he could only claim to know one person present with any degree of familiarity.

"Good morning, Greengrass," Lelouch said. The girl in question sat leant up against the armrest of a sofa near the common room exit with her eyes closed. Had she not slightly stirred at the sound of his approach, he might have passed her by without a word thinking her asleep. She returned the greeting with a tired one of her own, not yet fully rising, and he observed, "You're up early." If she wanted conversation, he had the time. If not, he would leave her to her odd choice of bed.

"I don't sleep well," she confessed. "Nor do sleeping draughts help."

"Have you tried mundane medicine?" Lelouch doubted it, given her background.

Surprisingly, however, she nodded. Given her state, they obviously hadn't helped either.

"How unfortunate."

The conversation petered out there with Greengrass clearly too tired to carry on this early. As such, Lelouch dismissed himself and wished her well for whatever rest she could find.

The walk from the common room to Professor Snape's office was a short, if tedious, one. He had to climb up to the Entrance Hall and then took another side door the prefects had pointed out last night. It led back down into a narrow staircase that wound down in a tight spiral. If Hogwarts at all obeyed Euclidean axioms, he descended further down past the Slytherin dorms to an entirely separate level of the castle. There he found a short corridor leading to several side passages. At the end of it was a plain wooden door upon which he knocked three times in rapid succession.

A few short moments later, the door opened to reveal the dour Professor Snape. His passive scowl could rival some of Suzaku's lesser sneers near the end. "Potter," he spat at just above a mutter. That certainly set the tone of the coming conversation. "Is some aspect of the Slytherin quarters not suited to your princely station?"

Lelouch arched an eyebrow. In perfect frankness, having no better response at hand, he replied, "I'm not terribly thrilled to be separated from Hermione, but at least she's not in Gryffindor." The house rivalry between them and Slytherin was more readily apparent and worse than he'd expected.

A few moments passed as Professor Snape narrowed his eyes. Then Lelouch felt the slightest hint of a subtle legilimency attack not quite on C.C.'s level but not too far off either. He repelled it with an equally measured response and a silent question on his face.

In turn, Professor Snape's expression shifted into a wordless demand to spit out whatever Lelouch had to say.

"My memory of my early years is poor," Lelouch led, "but I learnt very quickly to write things down if I wanted to remember them."

Lelouch caught in the tightening of Professor Snape's jaw the glint of recognition. He understood the deeper meaning there.

"My mother mentioned you often enough for your name to make it onto my list of contacts." In truth, he was the only name remaining on that list. The others were either missing, indefinitely hospitalised, or dead. "I thought I would at least introduce myself."

"Then might I suggest that your time would be better spent preparing for classes." There was bitterness in that voice underneath the snark, if well hidden. "Your mother, in her infinite wisdom, gave her life for you. I sincerely hope you prove worth the sacrifice."

Before Lelouch could get a word in edgewise, Professor Snape spun in place and marched back into his office. The door swung shut behind him without so much as a flick of his wand.

Well, that could have gone worse. Not that it had exactly gone well, either, but Lelouch hadn't expected much more than that given the observations he'd made prior to knocking. Even his own ritual suicide hadn't been met with the universal celebration that he'd hoped for at the time, and Lily had been far more well-liked. Finding a grieving and embittered man as a result of her sacrifice came as no surprise.

A silent sigh escaped Lelouch. What was it I said to Kallen after Narita? If he recalled correctly, it went something like, "I must spill yet more blood so the blood already spilt will not be in vain," had it not? That was so many years ago. He might have not quoted himself word for word, but the memory itself stuck out in his mind like a blazing torch. It'd been a defining moment not only of his own character but Kallen's as well.

Those words felt as applicable now as they had then. Kallen, he knew, wanted a mostly bloodless revolution, but they both knew the odds of that happening even should she deliberately set out not to ignite the war personally. Even without Voldemort likely clinging to life somewhere somehow, arrayed against her were a sizeable group of semi-retired terrorists and their hordes of sympathisers determined to maintain their place in the world against everything she stood for.

Lelouch heaved a second sigh. He was done here for the moment. Now he, too, turned in place and then walked back the way he'd come. Ascending the stairs put him right outside the Great Hall, wherein he found a table for an early breakfast. With the exception of a single teacher he didn't recognise seated at the High Table and a few scattered students, he ate alone.

Or he did until a Slytherin girl in, at a guess, her fourth year sat down beside him. She yawned as she fumbled for a pile of bacon with a grace that spoke of bleary vision and then lazily smacked her lips. Rather than blink to try to force her eyes to focus properly, they shifted in size and structure.

"Morning, Cousin," Lelouch said.

Unless he was very much mistaken, Tonks grumbled something incoherent back.

"Are you here to remind me not to slack off on my healer training?"

Tonks mumbled something to the effect of, "I'm not Mum's owl."

"Not right now, at least."

Tonks elbowed him and said, "I don't need any of your cheek at this Merlin-forsaken hour," with a smirk.

Ah, now this was just what Lelouch needed to cheer himself up after a thoroughly depressing start to the day. Even in her surliest of moods, Tonks had an aura of good cheer about her. Upon enquiry, she explained her actual purpose here. Lelouch remained distinctly unimpressed with the new Minister for Magic after he'd heard her out. Honestly, why the minister didn't simply insert Tonks as a first-year Slytherin if Fudge were truly determined to go through with this plan despite opposition was beyond him, but he supposed he should thank Lady Bones whenever they next met for finding a way not to entirely waste his cousin's time with pointless babysitting.

"I trust you'll let me know when you're around?"

Tonks made a show of humming and debating whether or not she would before she finally said, "Nah. It'll be good practice for you to learn how to sniff out spies."

"While true…" Lelouch allowed, leaving the rest unsaid.

"Hey, I'll keep the kiddie gloves on for now. If you want privacy, you'll have to learn how to get it." After gnawing off a chunk of bacon, she added, "Trust me, Harry. You're gonna need it."

That, Lelouch reluctantly admitted, was probably true. Espionage and counterintelligence was C.C.'s art, but he and Kallen really should learn at least the basics even if Tonks intended to be annoying about it. That did leave one matter unresolved, however.

"What if I do happen to need you?"

"Gotcha covered." From the pocket of her robe, Tonks withdrew a knut. She twirled it between her fingers up toward her thumb until she got leverage and then flicked it to Lelouch. For someone so notoriously clumsy, she could be surprisingly dexterous when she was paying attention. "Protean charm. Transfigure it to pass along a message. Heat it up however you like to get my immediate attention. If it's an emergency, snap it in half. I charmed it fragile upon intent. The bookworm has one too."

Lelouch idly observed the knut for a few moments before tucking it away inside his robe. "So basically a limited smartphone," he concluded.

"Uh, yeah. From Hermione's book, right?" After Lelouch nodded, she added, "You know, we actually have those. Sort of. Aurors use enchanted mirrors, or earrings, or whatever to talk to each other on the job. They're sort of like a portable Floo Network."

The implications of that made Lelouch arch an eyebrow. He asked, "And Fudge's brilliant plan didn't merit a set because…"

"They're expensive, and that's money he can't redirect toward his backers."

Lelouch snorted. What else had he expected?


Daphne gracefully trudged up the stairs and ultimately into the Great Hall where breakfast had nearly finished. At her side, Tracey entwined their arms and pulled her along to a pair of open seats roughly across from Potter and, to her great displeasure, Malfoy. But that was fine, she supposed. She had no idea what Potter's endgame for the prick was, but it probably involved a great deal of humiliation somewhere along the way. It would be a shame to miss that.

As they approached, they had to push their way through the gathered crowd not consisting entirely of other Slytherins. This was the school's first chance to pester Potter, and it seemed there was no shortage of students interesting in availing themselves of the opportunity even despite his unexpected and controversial sorting. Maybe there were more because of that. She didn't particularly care either way.

That said, Potter wasn't exactly holding court. He had true personal power in the real world, yes, but he was a celebrity curiosity. Daphne knew he'd made a good first impression on many, herself included, but few knew him. Few respected him over the legend of the Boy-Who-Lived. Witches and wizards had made assumptions about him and lived by them for years without any input from him, and it would take time to step out of his own shadow.

In contrast, those that had gathered for Malfoy were there not because he had real power but because they knew he would someday. They were fewer in number and likely consisted of a largely disjoint set from the Potter crowd, but they would grow if Malfoy proved himself worthy of his name. It wasn't as though there were any standout rivals to challenge him for dominance within his own political sphere, after all. Destroying his power base would require obliterating his followers or converting him.

Daphne would prefer the former, but the latter would also suffice if that was Potter's intention. In a few of the futures she'd foreseen, he became tolerable enough to make her little sister happy.

Only a few.

She would personally castrate him with a rusty knife if the river of time shifted toward one of the many futures where Astoria killed herself before the Greengrass family blood curse took her.

After Daphne had gathered breakfast for herself, she withdrew a vial from her robes and added a bit of girding potion to her pumpkin juice, just enough to give her the energy to get through the day without having to nap. The enchanted goblet Hogwarts provided to each student glowed faintly, subtly letting her know that someone had added a potion to her drink. Since this was obvious, she ignored it and took her first sip. It tasted slightly less than revolting, which she supposed meant she'd gotten better at brewing since the last time she'd had to go all day without rest.

The effects came quickly, and as new energy filled her, Daphne felt her gaze sharpen, her muscles lighten, and her mind clear of its sluggish haze. The inferi princess was gone.

Beside her, Tracey, who was not unfamiliar with her morning routine, only mentioned that she should try the porridge.

As breakfast drew to its end but before the professors or prefects had risen to distribute class schedules, Daphne noticed a Hufflepuff girl, one probably in her third or fourth year, approach the High Table from the corner of her eye. She idly watched the girl briefly speak with the four heads of house and the headmaster before scampering off out into the Entrance Hall and out of sight.

Daphne briefly wondered what that had been all about before turning her attention back to the conversation Tracey had started up with Zabini before she'd properly awoken. They seemed to be getting along well enough with idle chatter about nothing. While she had natural talent and extensive experience in many things, small talk was not one of them, so she left them to it and settled for observing the goings-on surrounding them and making mental notes.

And then the Great Hall's massive main doors which Daphne could have sworn were open slammed against the wall with a thundering crack. Everyone fell silent and turned their attention to the entrance. The more paranoid students had drawn their wand. Surely none expected the sight before them.

It was a mass of Hufflepuffs of all people striding down the centre aisle as if they owned the castle. They were an odd group consisting of at least one student from every year with nothing in common beyond their house that immediately stuck out. At their head, Hermione Granger marched with a confident stride, a challenging look on her face, and a gold-trimmed black cape billowing behind her with a dramatic flair that had to stem from a charm. Embroidered across it was an odd symbol, that of a winged sword, which only Potter seemed to recognise.

As the group neared the High Table, a pair of its older members drew their wands with clearly rehearsed symmetry across their centre and transfigured a raised platform. Granger climbed its steps to compensate for her short stature and spun atop it as the other Hufflepuffs fanned out to either side of her. The whispers throughout the hall immediately ceased when she spoke, and it was only now that Daphne noticed the looks on those Hufflepuffs sitting at their house's table. They were all in on whatever this was.

"Hogwarts! Fear us, or stand against us as you dare. We are the Hufflepuff duelling team."

The sound of a nearly silent snicker drew Daphne's attention, and she noticed Potter smirking out of the corner of her eye. He wasn't the only one, of course. Hufflepuffs had a reputation, and that reputation didn't exactly make anyone quiver in fear.

"We of Hufflepuff challenge all those who have wands to wield regardless of whether they be Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, or Slytherins. Years ago, a cowardly wizard with delusions of grandeur placed a jinx upon the defence position to ensure we would not learn to defend ourselves against him. It was a wanton but effective act, and have we not had enough?"

Those were very bold words coming from a muggleborn even if few knew her true heritage yet. Perhaps Daphne had been a bit hasty in assuming it would be the third-floor corridor that would kill her. But if she can back them up…

"Teaching defence at Hogwarts once was a celebrated position the most renowned aurors, duellists, and warriors in the entire world would aspire to. Hogwarts once produced the greatest battle mages in the world under the tutelage of legends."

No one missed the subtle hand gesture Granger made toward the headmaster seated directly behind her.

"Now we are left with only so-called professors with ulterior motives and the rare witch or wizard willing to risk everything to instruct us properly."

A fair number of gazes briefly shifted toward Professor Quirrell, the former muggle studies professor. Rumour had it that he'd permanently lost his hair, hence his turban to hide it, and had developed a debilitating stutter fighting dark creatures in the Black Forest whilst defending a muggle village.

"Without us to lead, battle magic has gone out of vogue. Each year, Magical Britain produces fewer and fewer aurors to refill our ranks. Each year, Magical Britain loses more and more respect within the international duelling circuit. Each year, Magical Britain forgets a little more of its history. No more! This decline must cease. And it begins here at Hogwarts!

"Those of you who desire strength and growth, challenge us. Those of you content to underestimate us, have a healer ready. We, the Hufflepuff duelling team, will be victorious in the end either way."

Granger raised a hand high above her head and snapped her fingers. In a blink, the entire duelling team vanished. As if that were not impressive enough, for one could not apparate within Hogwarts, each student now had a flier placed in front of them explaining the details of the new duelling club.

Daphne took the paper in hand and read it over. She looked then to Tracey, who could not possibly appear more interested. Finally, she turned to Potter, who wore a smug look of satisfaction upon his face.

Well, those two sure do work fast.

Time would tell if that would be Granger's undoing.


A/N: Some would call Kallen the Black Knight of the Rounds. Nunnally thought it was funny/fitting.


A shout out to Iron Diana over on Patrreon who cameoed in this chapter as Diana Ferrum. Thanks for the support!


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