When Harry heard the news that the Order of the Phoenix took over 12 Grimmauld Place, he almost lost it. He had just learned about the Black Ancestral Home from Sirius Black and then only a few days later it was ripped away from him.

When Sirius and Harry had discussed the summer earlier, Sirius had decided to allow Harry to live in Grimmauld Place. But then with the Headmaster's meddling Sirius had made the poor decision to let the house be used as a headquarters for the Order. And Harry couldn't be in the same house as the Order of the Phoenix.

It would not end well.

So instead of spending the summer learning interesting magic, he instead had to suffer at the Dursleys once again. At least this year they suffered with him. He forced them to give him some freedom this past summer to visit Blaise, Luna, and Hermione - when she wasn't at Grimmauld Place - as well as some magic sites and areas.

But in the end, both his guardians and Harry were very thankful when the start of term came along and he was able to go back to Hogwarts and Slytherin House.

Looking across the smoke of the train, Harry could see the distincting ginger of the Weasleys. They appeared to be on-time for once. While Harry never really knew the twins except for Quidditch rivals, he was well acquainted with Ron. And Ginny…well Ginny was infamous at Hogwarts. In Harry's second year during the petrifications, she had gotten kidnapped and Dumbledore had to step and save her. The story was that she had gone to fight Slytherin's monster and gotten hurt and trapped. The Headmaster went to get her back and kill Slytherin's monster as well.

But that rumor implied that the Headmaster had known where Slytherin's monster was and had ignored it. Harry knew that the man was an old, meddling wizard, but he was no evil, malicious monster who risked student death. There was another part of the story he didn't know, even if the other Slytherins disagreed when he told them this theory.

"Mione!"

Hermione, one of his closest friends, turned around and Harry saw her face brighten up when her gaze landed on him. They had gotten to know one another his second year of school, as they were paired together in Potions. Although Hermione and Harry were in two very different houses, they had connected and bonded in the long hours bent over their cauldrons. He had introduced her to some other Slytherins and they introduced her to the many secrets and hidden bits of Wizarding culture.

"Harry! How was your summer? I'm always amazed how you make your letters so interesting. I was stuck visiting my grandparents up north the whole time, I mean I love them, but it was rather boring. I heard Draco," she rolled her eyes at the name, "traveled around India the whole time, exploring magical sites and socializing with politicians. He wouldn't shut up about it in his letters."

Harry hummed in agreement. "Honestly it sounds fascinating, I would love to study with the Old Masters."

"I know, to be able to brew like that. It's amazing."

They walked together to the train, catching up, before settling together in an empty compartment.

"So do you know who made prefect?" Hermione asked. "Draco's refusing to tell me. He thinks it hilarious that I don't know. But I think it's Draco and Pansy? Cause Draco isn't that upset, and Snape still hates you. And politics. And then of course it's Brocklehurst and Boot for Ravenclaw. And then it's Weasley unfortunately," Hermione made a face. "And me. And then I think it's Susan and Justin? Susan didn't say anything in her letter, but it wouldn't be like her, and then I didn't want to ask straight out, that would be rather rude, don't you think?"

Harry laughed, "Well, then why are you asking me who's prefect, I think you already know."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "You or Malfoy?"

"Malfoy."

Hermione sighed, "More and more, I understand why you hate Snape."

Harry shrugged, he had already made his peace with the development. Somewhere in the far reaches of his mind, he had held on to a glimmering bit of hope that he would be prefect this year, something to prove his accomplishments. But now…Slytherin politics, "nothing I can change."

"I know. I know. But it just doesn't seem right! You are one of the top wizards in our year, and you would be prefect for sure if your parents hadn't been in the Order."

The train started to move.

"Thank you, but Draco deserves it too. He's brilliant at potions."

"And you're brilliant at Defense. Ugh, it's just terrible," Hermione sat. "Slytherins."

A jangle came from outside as Luna appeared in their doorway. Her long blond hair had been elaborately braided with various painted turnips and apples placed haphazardly around her hair.

"There are a lot of Wrackspurts here," she said dreamily. Harry eyed a purple turnip that was balanced particularly precariously. One too quick movement and it was bound to fall out.

"Their Hermione's," he responded sagely.

Hermione humphed from where she had already curled up in the corner with a book, still brooding over the injustice of Hogwarts politics. Harry could vaguely see the cover of the leather-bound tome; it looked like something to do with Runic Work, Hermione's passion project. And - if he was right about what it covered - also not a book allowed at Hogwarts. He would have to keep an eye out for her.

Luna sat down opposite Hermione and opened her Quibbler. "Bye, Harry. Have fun with the Humdingers." She peered up at him through multicolored glasses, eyes quizzical.

He smiles and leaves them, making his way up the train. Draco held his court further up the train, and no matter how much Harry didn't want to be part of the Slytherin politics, it was essential as an Heir to a seat in the Wizengamot. And as just a general important person, with old ties to the Order of the Phoenix and their side of the war.

Malfoy's voice carried loudly outside their compartment. The perfect volume, loud enough to be clearly heard by passersby, but also quiet enough that it wasn't obviously purposeful. Malfoy had grown a lot since the first year.

"And so with my father, we traveled down to New Delhi. The Masters there were surprised by my skill. Of course, they had heard about my prowess, but it was different to be brewing in front of them…" he trailed off, meeting eyes with Harry. "Oi Potter!"

The compartment was rather full, with Malfoy's main allies clustered around him and a cluster of social climbing younger students on the edges. Harry vaguely recognized a few of note, the younger Crowley son and Malfada...last name something, Weasley had been loudly lamenting how she had been sorted into Slytherin last year.

"Malfoy. Parkinson. Nott." Harry nodded to them in turn. "Slytherins. Where's Zabini?"

Parkinson was pressed against Malfoy's side. Her makeup was flawless and her smile demure. Harry was always equally impressed and terrified of her, ever since he had walked in on her boiling rats for some beauty potion she had been creating. The rats were screaming, and she had been completely unfazed. The image was burned in his mind.

"Making his rounds I assume," answered Parkinson. "How was your summer Potter? You were rather brief in your letters."

Harry leaned against the door with practiced effortlessness. "Nothing too exciting. My guardians were off on vacation the whole time."

Malfoy made a face. "I don't understand how you can stand being related to those Muggles."

"It's a daily struggle. But I heard your summer was rather eventful."

Malfoy smiled, putting his arm around Pansy. "Yes, I spent most of the summer with the Old Masters in New Delhi," he looked at the younger students. "They were impressed with my brewing skills. The High Master said that if I desired I could join them in the future," he looked down abashedly. "However, of course, it is my responsibility as Malfoy Heir to spend my life here, as future Lord."

Not the most subtle, but he was showing off for the younger students and anything more subtle may go completely over their heads.

It never failed to surprise Harry with how far Malfoy had come from his First Year self, hiding behind his father's name and rather upfront with his family's power. Over the years Slytherin had definitely smoothed out the edges. Malfoy was definitely going to be a formidable politician after Hogwarts.

"The High Master?" piped up Mafalda. With Weasley-orange hair and a squeaky voice, Harry wondered how she was faring in Slytherin.

Malfoy smiled benevolently. "Yes, he was the most impressive potion Master I've ever met. He seemed to almost one with his brew. If any of you ever want to be Potion Masters, come to me, I would love to help you all out, we Malfoys have connections across the world."

Again, a little blunt, but again, necessary for the Second and Third Years.

Footsteps sounded from behind Harry. "Hey, cutie." A hand landed on his shoulder. "My mother was very sad you could not come to dinner".

"Your mother still terrifies me," replied Harry to the newcomer.

"As she should," said Malfoy.

"Shush. You are not allowed to talk about my mother like that," Blaise Zabini glared at Malfoy. "Harry can though because we are going to marry and then live long lives together as the Most Powerful Wizards of the Century."

"Of course, my love." Harry batted his eyelashes.

Nott made gagging noises in the corner of the compartment. "Stop it, you are the only ones that think that's funny."

"Darling! Protect me from this slander."

Pansy flicked her wand at them. "Stop terrorizing the second years. They don't deserve your antics."

"No one understands us," Blaise complained, stepping around Harry and entering the compartment. "Lisa Turpin says hi to you, Nott. She wants you to drop by at some point."

"Who?"

Blaise stared down at Nott. "Don't even bother with that."

Pansy met Harry's gaze, shaking her head. It was obvious to everyone that they were in love with each other, but Nott was afraid to admit it to even his closest friends. Nott's prejudice was too ingrained in him. At least she wasn't a Gryffindor, Ravenclaws were forgivable.

"Now, come on second years," Pansy said kindly. "Official upperclassman Slytherin business." She made a shooing motion.

"Bye Harry," Mafalda said shyly. Harry wondered where that came from. He did not want another girl throwing himself at him. Especially another Weasley-look alike. It was near the bottom of the list of things that Harry wanted.

Zabini laughed at the look on his face. "Damn, our Potters' a player."

Pansy rolled her eyes, "And not even interested." She flicked her wand, the compartment door shutting behind him. "I have actual news. I assume we all are aware of the developments from last year?"

They all nodded.

"We are all aware that Longbottom and his supporters are delusional," Pansy continued, looking straight at Harry. He nodded at her lie, he had assumed that this would be the ramifications of Neville appearing after the Third Task and telling anyone who listened that the Dark Lord had returned. Harry had pulled him aside as quickly as possible and tried to warn him about what people would say about that.

His words didn't stick.

"And my father says the Ministry is refusing to allow Longbottom to tell people the Dark Lord has risen. If he continues to spout off about You-Know-Who, the Ministry will be 'forced' to take executive action," Malfoy added.

"They've already taken executive action," Nott murmured ominously from his corner of the compartment.

Harry quickly hid his confusion. His friends in the Ministry had not mentioned anything about current action against Neville.

"Dolores Umbridge," Nott continued, glancing around at the confused faces of the Slytherin compartment. "Senior Undersecretary to the Minister. Raging bitch and our new Defense Professor."

The name was familiar. She was widely hated by the Ministry officials, but also very effective. Fudge kept her around to grow his ego, and because she, unfortunately for Hogwarts, was good at her job.

"Father says she's the Minister's favorite lapdog," Malfoy added. Harry nodded in agreement.

"So we stay on her good side," Harry concluded.

"Of course. Are you going to warn everyone else?"

"Doubt it, they've made it clear that they want nothing to do with me." Harry held up his hands. "But what can you do? They are only hurting themselves."

Nott hummed. "I'm glad you've given them up. They don't deserve our mercy."

"I'm not that far gone," Harry replied. "I still hold some sympathy."

Scratch being the most afraid of Parkinson. Nott was the truly unhinged one. He was the one Harry would expect to wake up holding a knife over Harry's bed with a cliché red gleam in his eyes.

"I am going to say my hellos through, it doesn't help to be polite."

"Give them my greetings," Pansy called after him as Harry continued his way up the train, passing gangs of giggling Hufflepuffs girls and circles of Ravenclaw boys.

The Longbottom compartment stood out. Somehow it had a circle of anticipatory silence around it. Everyone was curious about Longbottom's claims, and yet at the same time, no one wanted the Dark Lord to be back.

Well… at least most people didn't want the Dark Lord to be back.

Harry slid the door open.

"Longbottom," he nodded frigidly, as Blaise had taught him.

"What do you want, Potter? Get lost," replied Ron Weasley instead.

"Why? Can't I greet classmates and friends?" Harry asked, looking onto what were most definitely not friendly faces.

"Potter," said Longbottom, trying to immediate his greeting. It didn't quite work right, he clearly never had Blaise Zabini to teach him.

"How was your summer?" Harry aimed for politeness.

Brown spoke up, "It's none of your business, Potter. You've made your alliances clear."

"And you are always talking down on Slytherins, but clearly it's the Gryffindors that are the rude ones," he bit back.

"You are just coming in here to get a rise out of Ron," said Neville. "Now leave us alone, again, you have made your alliances clear."

Harry was a bit taken aback. Clearly, the Boy-Who-Lived had succeeded in picking something up over the summers. One of Sirius's letters had briefly mentioned something about Dumbledore and the Weasley's organizing some kind of training for Neville. He had some backbone now.

"Hermione sends her regards."

Ron made a face. "That know-it-all bitch is a Gryffindor and still associates with you. Where is her sense of loyalty?"

"Don't call her a bitch," snapped Neville, a moment before Harry could.

Harry was genuinely surprised now. The last time he knew Neville, he was trembling in his boots. Harry had had the thought multiple times that maybe they got the wrong boy because there was no way Neville was the one that had killed Lord Voldemort.

But now there were inklings of spine. Maybe Neville stood a chance, he had lived this long and that took something.

"It is clear I am not welcome here…"

Ron scoffed under his breath, "No shit."

Harry wrinkled his nose at the rudeness. "...but I wish you all the best this year."

Sighing, he started to make his way back to Luna and Hermione. He had been friends with everyone in that carriage for so many years. Ron was the first person he had met coming to the Wizarding World. It had been a shock for everyone when he was sorted into Slytherin. But after a few weeks, they seemed to have adjusted. But now, after last year, and with everything that had happened in between, it was clear that the Gryffindors held themselves apart from him.

Harry wouldn't miss Ron, of course, the rude bastard could fall off a cliff for all he cared, but Harry still held a soft spot for Neville. He had met him in the library late one night in First Year, crying over a potions essay. And they became friends after that. But now..with the Dark Lord rising again? Things were bound to change.

But then again, the Sorting Hat hadn't placed Harry in Slytherin for nothing.