"Black, Lukas."

Fuck. Black was early, sure, but did it have to be second?He'd wanted to see more of the sorting before it was his turn. Or … well, people would stop paying as much attention by the sixth or seventh, right? Second was a novelty. Lukas clenched his fists, swallowing against this dryness in his mouth. Jack's ring bit his finger and he brushed his thumb against it. No problem. Up, sorted, done. Probably Ravenclaw, maybe Slytherin. So long as he didn't fall over or something, it'd be fine.

An image flashed across his mind. His foot catching on the top step and the comical sight of himself going flying, face smashing into the rickety old stool.

Lukas gulped and took good care going up the steps. Kept his head held high too 'cause that didn't look stupid, remember that. It just looked normal to everyone else.

Susurrus whispers trailed from the snake quarter of the hall, and Dumbledore watched him behind steepled fingers. Lukas ignored both and hopped onto the stool, drawing his legs up into an easy lotus. He stared at all the faceless strangers in the hall with cool eyes until the hat dropped over his head and cut off the sight. An old, dusty scent tickled his nose.

"Ooh." Lukas's eyes had drifted shut in the darkness, but they flew open. That was a voice whispering inside his head. Jack had said so but… His heart beat quicker. A voice spoke inside his head. "What an interesting life you've had…"

"How much can you see then?" Lukas's thoughts flowed back like a voice, playing about in the same part of his head that the hat spoke from. "Damn, it's good to speak freely like this."

"Nothing to assist you, I'm afraid. Those memories have been damaged permanently. Enough chit-chat. I have a job to do tonight."

"Ravenclaw or Slytherin, I expect."

The hat chuckled. "No question about it. The question is … which one? I can see the thirst for knowledge in you, oh yes, I haven't seen it's like in years, but is that thirst pure? Will it ever be satiated by knowledge alone? I can see inside your mind, Lukas Black., I can see the things you've done … the things you've sought to witness … the things you dream of when the nightmares don't come." The hat gave a shiver that Lukas felt through his hair and against his cheeks. "It's a horrible place here inside your head… You're just like a snake; you slither through life, a flickering tongue to disguise that animal savagery that taints all your thoughts. Your potential for violence is so … far … from filled. You aren't a cunning Slytherin – no, not a political dancer. You're a cruel, desperate sort, just like Jaxus was."

"It sounds like you were never considering Ravenclaw at all."

"Perhaps I was, perhaps I wasn't, but now my mind's made up. SLYTHERIN!"

The hat vanished from his head, and Lukas blinked, dazed, against the sharp light that stabbed against his eyes. The entire hall stared at him, a whispering silence full of wide eyes. He'd taken a while then. Perhaps quicker sorts were normal. Too late now.

The applause from Slytherin was a thin and threadbare thing that left the cavernous reaches of the hall echoing with silence, and the other Houses never bothered at all. It prickled at him, little needles in his spine as their eyes tracked his journey, but it felt right anyway. Looked like he didn't belong anywhere in the end. Swallowing hard, he tucked his thumb around the ring on his index finger. He sat at the very end of the table and fixed his eyes back on the Sorting.

Several unremarkable sortings passed. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw; a lot of those, rote as rote can be. None of them took particularly long and the tables all gave the same applause. When the hat put Rhys Combs in Gryffindor, the applause was deafening once again.

A second Slytherin followed. Nikita Delaney, a tall girl with cornrows, and the well-mannered but enthusiastic applause put what Lukas had received to shame. Delaney, notably, took a seat several up and across the table from Lukas.

"Edgecombe, Marietta." Lukas, who'd been making guesses at Houses for each candidate, fiddling absently with the new ring on his finger, was left undecided by her vapid expression. Did the stupid ones go to Hufflepuff or Gryffindor? Depended what sort of stupid, he supposed. Although he'd supposed entirely wrong all ways, as the hat shouted her straight into Ravenclaw.

"Fawcett, Sarah." Mousey and unremarkable, a pair of glasses perched on her nose that outdistanced Harry's in thickness by a long shot. She was, as Lukas predicted, announced as a Ravenclaw, which was the only other House that Slytherin applauded for.

"Fields, Jeyne." She looks bloody terrified, Hufflepuff. "GRYFFINDOR."

"Frobisher, Victoria." Prissy as shit. Slytherin or a stuck-up-smart Ravenclaw. "GRYFFINDOR."

"Gallus, Emilio." Lukas watched this one more carefully. Oh, he looks genial, doesn't he? Smiling all the way up with not a care in the world, but it's too perfect. Lukas knew smiles like that. Slytherin for this one. "SLYTHERIN" Bingo.

The Slytherins put their hands together for Gallus as well, and though he didn't join Delaney, sparing her only a tight smile, it was obvious whom he took a seat away from. Lukas folded his arms on the table and slumped into them, his mouth and nose hidden behind the sleeves of his robes. This was going to be hilarious when he broke Erebus out.

"Higgs, Terence." Lukas had never looked at one boy in his life and thought football as aggressively as he did when Higgs strutted up to the stool. He already moved like an athlete, and Lukas had him pegged Gryffindor until the hat, after a murmuring debate where its flap-mouth worried together, announced him Slytherin. Gallus applauded heartily, and when Higgs sat beside him, he clapped his shoulder and the pair laughed.

Perhaps all these Slytherins already knew each other, little purebloods playing together while their parents talked about grown-up things. Perhaps Lukas could've been one of them if things hadn't gone wrong.

He worried his tongue between his teeth, frowning at Gallus and Higgs muttering together. Would he have still been the outcast? Still been the child who sneaked off from playtime to eavesdrop at the door after his parents had shooed him away? Surely he wouldn't have been so different that he wouldn't.

Of course, Jack would never think of sending Lukas off while he talked about 'grown-up' things, so he'd never had to eavesdrop at all.

Lukas smirked behind his arms. He did send Lukas off when he did 'grown-up' things, and he'd be even more pissed than the few times he'd caught Lukas watching if he knew how many times he hadn't. After that first instance with Jack's old boss, Lukas had learnt to be a lot more careful.

His eyes fluttered closed. The touches of firelight pink that danced through his eyelids morphed with the memories – sprays of gore and Jack's head tipped back with blood smeared across his face and down his throat. A dozy smile spread across his lips as he pressed his eyes tighter closed. Arched back, the silver flash of—

"GRYFFINDOR."

Fuck! The curse nearly burst aloud from his lips as he started out of his reverie, heart hammering against his chest. Up the table, Nikita Delaney sniggered behind her hand. God, that wasn't the time to be thinking about that. Lukas shifted in his seat, willing his mind away from the hot feeling in his gut.

The new Gryffindor… Who knew? Some idiots had taken up a chant about a hat trick.

After a Hufflepuff, Lettie Macmillan, was sorted, McGonagall called for Draco Malfoy. Lukas stayed lazed behind his arms, but mentally, at least, he sat up. Was he related to Jack? The hat screamed Slytherin almost as soon as it touched his slick blonde hair, and a particularly loud applause heralded his swagger to the table. Probably not from some distant never-heard-of Malfoy branch then. So could it be Jack's … nephew? Oh, it had to be. That walk reminded him so much of Jack that Lukas got a little twist in his gut for home. Little Malfoy avoided Lukas like all the others, of course – plonked himself down between Gallus and Higgs. Unlike the others, little Malfoy's eye on Lukas was more curious than hostile.

After another cluster of boring sortings, McGonagall called, "Ó Fearghal, Riagán."

Isn't that a bloody name? I didn't know Irish people still had such Irish names. Lukas smirked when he saw the redhead who'd walked to the boats with him come up to the dais. He was cute.

Not Jack cute, but cute.

A sharp jump went through Lukas's chest and his eyes widened behind his arms. Did I just think that? Fuck.

The hat dithered over Irish almost as long as it had with Lukas, but when it called out the house, it sounded more like a question. Riagán joined Hufflepuff with a smirk that wouldn't have looked out of place on Lukas.

Pretty much everyone left was boring, then. Well, they'd all been boring anyway, so no difference. Lukas couldn't even remember if the three from the boat had been sorted – their faces had been lost to the gloom.

Ravenclaw, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor, and two new Slytherin girls. First, Adeline Rowle, and the giggles her and Delaney erupted into were like nails in Lukas's ears, and then Shiori Yuko, who sat separate from both of the groups and Lukas. Her haughty prettiness struck Lukas so dumb that he missed the next few names and sortings. At least when he looked back, there was no goopy ginger hair in the sparse crowd. No Weasleys.

And it's entirely your fault I'm pre-judging so much here, Jack. So there.

A handful more of the last set of students came to Slytherin. A tall boy with a charming smile, Ainsley Urquhart, and a girl with red hair more auburn that ginger – one Ruth Vaisey, who knocked knuckles with Higgs before sitting with the girls.

Two more boys were in the next pair. One was Sebastian Wronski, whose surname seemed to stir some interest, and Felix Yaxley. Wronski stirred Lukas's interest when he … actually sat beside Lukas. Was he a muggleborn? Except Lukas recognised the name too from somewhere. Perhaps there was a famous muggle Wronski…

The sorting finished, McGonagall rolled up her scroll with precise little movements and exited the hall through door behind the head table, taking both the hat and the stool along with her.

No one had time to begin a conversation. The headmaster rose from his seat, spreading his arms and beaming down at the students as if they were his own little gaggle of kittens or something. The whole look of him was just too genial, too simpering, to be anything like the stories Lukas had heard of him – both from Jack and from history books – and that disturbed Lukas more and more. This was the man who was probably responsible for permanently damaging his memories and not a single soul would ever believe he'd do it, especially to a six-year old boy.

"Welcome!" Dumbledore said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words." His smile broadened. "And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!

"Thank you!"

Everyone clapped and cheered as Dumbledore sat back down, the noise like nails in Lukas's skull. Would he ever get used to it? It was so immediate. So much different to the ambient grumble of the city. It hurt his head and shivered in his gut.

At least it was short. Mounds of food appeared in the wide golden bowls and piled up on the golden platters. Every student in the hall abandoned their manners as they dug in, heaping their plates with all manner of rich, succulent food. The smell of the meats was thick in the air, flavoured delicately by rosemary and thyme and bay Little dishes of vegetables scattered between them, tiny rowboats wicking beside towering cruisers, and each vegetable was cooked to perfection and ready to burst with its juices. Plump potatoes and Yorkshire puddings towered in mounds that strove for the sky.

Lukas dished a small selection of veg and roast potatoes onto his plate and started picking before most of the other first-years were anywhere near done serving themselves. His mouth watered before he even placed the first honey-glazed carrot on his tongue. How could he ever go back to Jack's cooking after this? He tried, bless him, but it just … wasn't good. At all.

The other Slytherins seemed content to leave Lukas alone while he ate – or perhaps while they ate, making it too much distraction to do anything but give him sideways looks. Wronski didn't say a word either until Lukas finished his meagre portion and set his knife and fork down. They felt weird in his hands. Mostly, he ate with his fingers so long as it wasn't wet.

"Is that all you're eating?" Wronski had a definite accent, something Eastern European. Lukas nodded and glanced up the table. No one looked at them, too busy scoffing roast dinner. "You aren't as muggleborn as everyone's assumed you are, are you?"

The tightening lift in Wronski's angular cheeks and nose as Lukas pulled out his notebook suggested he was raising his eyebrows, but if he did, his floppy fringe concealed all. Although, he peeled his hair back over his head as he read the note.

'You're about half right.'

Wronski let his fringe flop back over his face. "Bad throat?"

'Mute.' No one but Jack and Harry needed to know it was elective.

Wronski blushed as he read that, but credit to the boy, you could some diligence in his eyes scanning the note, not the quick read and dismissal most gave. Lukas always found it was the down and outs who took the most time with him; he was fully expecting a lot of difficulty with the noble, pureblood Slytherins.

"You're a half-blood, then," Wronski said once he'd read Lukas's note. "Raised in the wizarding world, I'd guess."

'Entirely wrong that time.'

"You aren't a pureblood, surely? You can't be one of those Blacks."

Lukas shrugged and put his elbows on the table, leaning his chin in the cup of his hands. These first-years were absolutely useless at sneaking glances. His gaze obscured by the tips of his fingers, Lukas watched them from corner of his eyes, and not a one of them bothered to hide it more than by keeping their bodies angled away from him. Draco Malfoy kept twisting to face away from Lukas before twisting his head like an owl to ogle him.

'What about you?'

"Pureblood." Wronski pushed his fringe back again. "But my family isn't really associated with theirs."

'That must be why no one's jumped up to lynch you.' Wronski laughed when he read that part. 'I assumed you were muggleborn. I know I recognise your surname, but I thought it was a muggle one.'

"Oh no, I'm pure through and through. Except where I'm from, it doesn't matter so much."

'Czechoslovakia?'

Wronski shook his head. "Poland."

Lukas flicked to the back of his notepad and made a note to ask Jack about Polish Wronskis, and then on a second thought, added ó Fearghal too. Except when he was done, Wronski had gone back to his food anyway. Lukas forced his eyes off across the hall, covering the heat in his cheeks with his hands. Stupid. He always forgot that people didn't wait for him to finish like Jack did.

Soon, the depleted banquet vanished, only to be replaced by masses of sweet, sticky desserts. Where did they get the ingredients to make all of this? Was it kitchen staff or enchantments? And where did all the leftovers go? A little pit formed in his gut as his eyes trailed around the massive wealth of food. So much went untouched. A small part of himself still wanted to cry at the thought of all that food gone to waste.

There really was nothing like hunger – the way it consumed you from the inside out – and there really was nothing like sitting on the side of the road, nothing but scraps for days, watching people throw half-eaten sandwiches in the bin.

For the rest of the meal, Lukas picked at a slice of lemon tart and a bowl of fruit with sugar sprinkled over the top. It felt like the memory of that black hole in his gut should make him hungrier, but it only reminded him how much that first bite after not eating for days hurt. Wronski didn't talk again and Lukas didn't bother either. Time enough for that and he had better things to pay attention to.

Except somehow he managed not to pay attention to any of them. For most of the meal, Shiori drew his eyes. Lukas snuck covert glances at her while he mulled slices of fruit over his tongue. The sweetness of the little crystals of sugar went prettily with her face. She sat alone still, eating a bowl of ice cream, but no one seemed to pay much attention to her. Had she come here from Japan, or did her family live in England? The other three girls – Delaney, Rowle, and Vaisey – talked to the boys now, and besides the little outcast pair of Lukas and Wronski, all the rest of them looked familiar with each other. So she probably came from Japan.

Interesting.

There you go, Jack. That's at least two people I'm not pre-judging badly.

When the tables emptied again, audible complaints echoed through the room at the loss of the food, but they soon died out as Dumbledore stood from the table and chimed his fork against the glass. All just the usual announcements that Lukas didn't care about in the slightest because he wasn't about to obey any rules anyway, and he was right ready to ignore everything until Dumbledore said:

"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."

What the fuck? Lukas almost found the words tripping off his tongue, but the rigid spasm of his tongue did away with any hope of that.

"Is he serious?" Wronski whispered. "It sounds like they haven't even locked the place up properly."

It did, now Wronski mentioned it, and now Lukas had to admit he was pretty curious about whatever was up there.

"And now," said Dumbledore, "bedtime. Off you trot!"

.

Everyone jumped up out of their seats all at once, and with six years' worth of students all trying to push through the doors, however big, it was a veritable stampede. Thankfully the first-years were, once again, waylaid from the general student body, though this time by two students of normal size.

Once the crowds had dispersed, two Slytherin prefects led them down a staircase plunging into the castle dungeons. It was a dank route. A cold breeze shivered through Lukas's thick robes, and the stones were mossy and slick, leaving a coating of green slime on Lukas's finger when he trailed it along the wall. He grimaced at it and wiped it on his robes. Gross. There had to be another way to the common room.

The last set of turns seemed to guide them around a U-bend, and when they stopped, the corridor was dry and the walls free of muck. The first thing Lukas would do when he had time off lessons was explore this section and find that other damn route. No way that was the main one.

"Hey!" The female prefect's voice rung brash over the crowd. The milling first-years all turned to her. "Come over here."

Once they were gathered round, the male prefect stood up on his tiptoes and pointed to a tiny carving of a snake where the wall met the ceiling. He tapped the rock beside it and the little snake squirmed, making Lukas start. "Do you see this?" The other first-years gave a chorus of yeses. "This marks out the entrance to the Slytherin common room. If you stand just right of it, face the wall, and speak the password, then … well, then the door opens. We'll show you in a minute."

The female prefect stepped forwards. "The password is changed on the first of every month. You'll find it written on a piece of parchment on your bedside table that'll destroy itself by midday, so if it's the weekend and you're a late sleeper, you'd better make sure you get up to read it." She looked pointedly at the girls as she said that. Vaisey went crimson, and Rowle and Delaney giggled.

Related? They did both have the same murky red hair.

"This week," she continued, "the password is 'Myrtlewood'. Any questions, then? No? Alright, let's go in."

She turned to the wall and repeated the password, raising her head to the little snake in the corner, and as they door ground open, they went inside.

The Slytherin common room seemed to squat in its space. Long and low, and the ceilings felt a little too close no matter that even the tallest person milling through the room didn't come near to the heavy grey bricks. It lent it an intimacy, while at once swallowing each disparate cluster of people whole. Lukas could imagine huddling at one of those dark-wood tables and even the nearest gaggle of furniture would disappear in the murky darkness between the flickering lanternlight.

The flames that danced behind the glassy shields and in the hearth were not orange or yellow or red, but bitter, poisonous green. It slid across the ceilings and walls like they all cowered within a submarine vault slowly filling with water. No matter the dry, almost reptilian air, the walls glistened as if they were coated with damp and moss.

At least it was hot. Two fireplaces lay at opposite ends of the room, a knot of furniture around each one.

The prefects stopped the group just inside the door. The female prefect glanced at the closest fireplace, and then nudged her counterpart with her elbow. His eyes flashed back from the knot of furniture and he jumped.

"One last thing from us then," the male prefect said, eyes flickering over his shoulder again. "Your dorms are right down there at the end of the room." He indicated to a mezzanine, reached by a short, flaring staircase, from which two corridors led off, left and right. Below the balcony, there were eight doors, four left of the staircase and four right. "The girls are through the door with the moon emblem on the left-hand side and the boys in the same on the right. Get accustomed to it, because you'll stay in the same room until you reach fifth-year, then you'll be allocated to a two-person bedroom up those stairs.

"Everyone got that? Alright." In his pause, the female prefect glanced at the fireplace again and made a small, near imperceptible gesture with her hand while the male prefect continued. "That's all from us then. Just wait here and someone else will be over to talk to you." He hesitated for a moment, and then hastily added, "Good luck, you lot."

Both prefects gave a regal sort of acknowledgement and left, the girl toward the cluster of furniture beside the nearest fireplace. On her way there, a man who'd just vacated a high-backed armchair stopped her. There was a short exchange and then he came to stand in front of the first-years.

He stood in silence, hip cocked idly as he let his eyes drift over the group of first-years. There wasn't really anything remarkable about him. Round-glasses framed dull eyes, and Lukas found himself forgetting the bland face already. The only thing that pricked his interest was his posture; his body language oozed arrogance from nothing but the way he stood and surveyed as if all lingered under his command. He had short fingers, and they wound around each other as the glassy touch of his eyes lingered on a couple of the students – Gallus, Shiori, Rowle, and Wronski and Lukas at the back. Only once he'd taken his fill of the sight did he talk, the slightest lisp putting an edge on his round voice.

"Welcome to Slytherin, little ones, and congratulations on your place in Salazar Slytherin's great House. My name is Luther Harrington and I am the … unofficial, shall we say, Head of Slytherin House. Sometimes this role is not filled due to inadequate candidates, but this year, and for the year previously, it's me." His lips curled into a tight, unpleasant smirk, and while it still touched his wide lips, his trailing eyes landed on Lukas. All at once, a shudder gripped Lukas's stomach, nails scratching down his spine. Lukas's toes curled inside his shoes.

He didn't like Luther Harrington.

"While you're here," Harrington continued, "there are certain rules that I set in place and the Slytherins follow. This trend will continue in you as well. The rules will be easy for you to figure out. Those of you who are truly worthy Slytherins will never break them, but for those of you who slip up during your first term here: These days will be your only chance to learn the rules. Past that, there will be…" a flicker of his tongue across his lower lip, and again, his eyes trawled the first-years as if they were a catch of fish, "…repercussions.

"Now," he held out his hands, palms forward and spread wide as he bent down as if to put himself on their level, "you all must be tired after such a long day. I'll leave you to settle into your dormitories and get some rest, for tomorrow is an important day. Goodnight, little ones. Sleep well."

Lukas followed the crowd of first-years as they huddled through the dormitory, keeping his eyes low and pinned to the floor. They split at the base of the stairs and traipsed into their dorm.

The boys' dormitory mimicked the common room in shape, although as they moved further in, Lukas saw that it had an L-shape, with a final bed sectioning off the addition into a large alcove. Another six beds took more conventional positions – three on each side of the room. The door to the bathroom lay opposite the alcove.

Malfoy drew Lukas's attention away from the length of the room as he spoke up in a loud, pompous tone. "That was the Prince," he said, hands on his hips. "My father told me all about it. He had the position while he was in Hogwarts, of course."

Oh, definitely Jack's nephew then. Jack's brother, Lucius Malfoy, had been Prince in his sixth and seventh year. Jack seemed to find the whole concept of lording political power over a bunch of teenagers hilarious, but apparently a lot of Slytherins liked that kind of thing.

Lukas scanned the room while Wronski went over to his bed and the other five boys joked and bantered beside the last bed on the alcove side. The owl atop the suitcase there ruffled its feathers every time one of them roared.

It ruffled its feathers so much Lukas was a little worried they might fall out.

His stack of luggage was at the end of the central bed on the left. God knew whose things were beside the bed in the alcove, but it hardly mattered as the bed belonged to Lukas now. Power granted privacy in all walks of the world, and hey, it was a small, petty thing, but in this room, he'd sit cosy at the top of the pile.

As if he had the energy for anything else.

Lukas pulled out his wand, and once he'd checked no one was looking, he cast the levitation spell.

Non-verbal spells were supposed to be advanced material, taught only as the witch or wizard approached majority, and not mastered until well into adulthood. It'd been nagging at Lukas since he'd started burning through magical theory, because seriously, what the hell would he do if he had to say spells aloud? Would he have to go to speech therapy, or just accept that it would take him months to master basic spells?

Total bullshit.

It didn't, of course. He probably would've bull-headed his way through it anyway if not, but unlike everyone else, he'd already mastered it. Non-verbal casting needed the same wilful control over your magic as wandless did, just to a much, much lesser degree. It only took him a few attempts to get the levitation spell to work on the train, and from there, things were – as Jack would say – piss pie.

Lukas sniggered to himself as he flicked the trunk up in the air. God, he wished Jack wouldn't say it.

The only drawback was that he'd have to understand the way the spell functioned a lot better than if he was performing them verbally, but at least he wouldn't get lazy.

The boys startled out of their conversation as Lukas's trunk floated over them, tussling the hairs on their heads. He had aimed to barge straight through their group, but hey, it was third time casting this so he'd give himself some leeway on fine motor skills.

"What was that for?" Higgs exclaimed, clutching his head. As the tallest of the group, one corner of the trunk had clipped him. Grinning, Lukas made a point of not looking at them while he dropped the trunk in the alcove then sent the rest of his boxes into the air, a bobbing train of mismatched carriages.

Higgs stormed up to him, closely followed by the others. "I said—"

"He's mute." Wronski walked over to the group, a pyjama shirt still dangling from his hand. "I don't think he can write while he has a wand in his hand. Although I'd say it looks like he's moving his things over to that bed."

Lukas's lips pressed tight and he made a ball of his fist. Jack would tell him to be grateful someone was being nice, but it pissed him off when people spoke for him like that. It was the impersonal 'he', exactly the way you'd speak about someone on TV.

"Why is he doing that, then?" Higgs asked.

There it was. Like he wasn't even a fucking person.

Lukas dropped his boxes off and slipped his wand back into the holster on his wrist. His pen etched into the thick paper as he wrote. 'Would whoever owns the luggage by the bed in the alcove move their things?'' The boys leaned in to read his note and then turned their heads to look at the bed in comical unison. Yaxley turned back quickest, the expression on his sour face blackening.

"How dare you order me around, you filthy mudblood?" Yaxley took a step forwards and jabbed his finger at Lukas. Good thing he had the grace not to touch Lukas with it, else the lemon-faced twat would be screaming over a broken finger. "You're lucky you're even getting a bed. There's no way you get to pick and choose the best one in here!"

Lukas made a show of giving a great, dramatic sigh, eyes sliding off to the side as he reached under his robes to the sheathe at the small of his back. The low lamplight flashed across the blade as Lukas twirled it around his fingers, and at the sight, Yaxley reared backward, dark eyes flying wide and his mouth jerking like he had something stuck in his throat.

Lukas jabbed at Yaxley – and the little pussy flinched – then indicated the luggage, and finally the now-empty bed. The boy stared at Lukas with blankly livid incomprehension. Idiot. Lukas repeated the gesture with jerky movements. If it wouldn't completely ruin the scare tactics, he'd move the fucking thing himself so he didn't have to try to communicate with generic private schoolboys numbers one through five.

Wronski started to speak, "I think he—" but Lukas hissed and sliced the air between them with the knife. His moment. Having a goddamn mouthpiece would ruin it. Lukas didn't need a mouthpiece – he never had, and he never would. Wronski backed up with raised hands. "Alright, alright. Sorry."

"Look at that filthy muggle tool he's got." Malfoy elbowed his way to the front, the lamplight casting sallow shadows across his pale skin. "How dare you threaten us? You're nothing more than a mudblood. My father will hear about this."

There we go. Lukas pinned the knife under his arm so he could sketch a quick diagram on his notepad – a small section of a family tree with Sirius Black and Anthea Valrssen – their immediate relations scattered around them – joined by a line that descended to Lukas's name. He rapped this line with his pen as the group looked at it.

"By Merlin, do you have an ounce of sense?" Malfoy exclaimed. "My mother's a Black and she'd know if that madman Sirius Black had ever had a child and he didn't. Especially not with a Valrssen." And didn't he just butcher that pronunciation.

Rolling his shoulders, Lukas made himself slacken his stance, cocked hip, put-upon expression, rolled his eyes, the works. He gave an exasperated huff and started on another note, ignoring the heckling coming his way. This one he showed specifically to Malfoy, covering the second half. 'Do you know a man named Jaxus Malfoy?'

"Malfoy? There's no Jaxus Malfoy."

Exactly what Lukas had expected. He uncovered the rest of the note. 'If you read up on the last war then you'll find him. Your uncle, fugitive Death Eater. He was closely associated with Sirius Black, I imagine. Would you take his word on whether the man had a child and who with?'

Malfoy spluttered. "That's a lie, that's slander. The Malfoys were never allied with the Dark Lord! My father was under the Imperius Curse."

'I never said your father. I said your uncle. Answer my question: Would he know if there was a child if he existed?'

"Well yes, I suppose, but he didn't so—"

Lukas flicked the knife out toward Malfoy with a hiss, and when the boy's jaw clicked shut, he scribbled. Of course Jack's idiot nephew started ranting at him again when he was only halfway done. Lukas couldn't even be that mad about it because Jack would've done the same if he were pissed off.

At least little Malfoy read his notes. 'Well he does exist. Do some reading. For now, I say that I know that I am that child.'

"That's—"

Lukas gripped his knife in the same hand as his pen and shook the notepad at Malfoy. The boy gulped, eyes sliding over the long curve of the blade, and finished reading the note. 'I'd also like to remind you that while we're on the assumption that my mother is Anthea Valrssen, that makes my great-uncle that old necromancer Erebus. I'd say I've inherited certain traits from him, and if I didn't get them from him, then hey, I'm like him anyway. I'd be careful who you call mudblood. Now get Yaxley to move his things or I'll move them for him.'

Malfoy, already a sickly pale kid, went even whiter. His eyes bulged as they flicked between Lukas and the knife he held. He'd heard the name then. More than that, he knew the stories that went with it.

Delightful.

"I—I have to ch—check something with my father." Malfoy's eyes stayed glued to Lukas as he stuttered. "You'd better move your things, Felix."

Higgs grabbed Malfoy's shoulder and ducked around him to peer at his face. "Are you really going to do what this—"

Malfoy slapped the hand away and directed his words to Yaxley again. "Do it. Right now. If he's not who he says he is we can do something about it later, but for the moment, do what he says."

Ah, and all the other boys looked positively shaken by the intensity in Malfoy's tone. Although Yaxley still moved with sour reluctance as he fetched his single, large trunk. Lukas watched, tapping his knife pointedly against his thigh, while Yaxley dragged it to the spare bed. With one last thin smile, Lukas strolled over to the alcove.

For once in his life, he slept as soon as his head hit the pillow.