Breakfast had been a quiet affair, with a tearful Lispy sniffling and wiping away the occasional tear as she filled Harry's plate for him. He had tried to protest, but the small Elf had a will of Mithril, and a stubborn streak to rival Sirius. She had created a small mountain of bacon and eggs on his plate, to the point he was genuinely fearful he would have to be rolled onto the train.

The Elf, who had raised him just as much as Sirius, Remus and Arcturus, she'd barely left his side as he ate, and a part of his heart shattered when the little sniffs punctuated his meal.

The second he could stomach no more food, for he knew Lispy would berate him tirelessly and fuss over him if he didn't eat what she deemed enough, he threw his knife and fork down and swept the tearful Elf up in a hug. She squeaked in surprise, but after a moment returned the embrace. Her tiny shoulders shook with a barely contained sob as he lowered her back to the floor.

"I won't be gone for long, Lispy. I'll be back for Yule, and then you can stuff me full of your cooking to make sure I grow big and strong."

"Lispy must bes making sure Master Harry Potter eats enough. Can't bes trusting Hogwarties Elves to feed yous properly." Lispy murmured, patting Harry affectionately on the cheek. He grinned down at the Elf.

"I'll write you letters to make sure you know I'm doing alright. How does that sound?"

The little Elf nodded and threw her arms around Harry's neck once more, the sound of her sniffling the only noise in the dining room.

Today was a big day for the family. Today was September the first, and in just a little over half an hour, the family would be leaving for Platform Nine and Three Quarters for Harry to board the Hogwarts Express. This morning, he had woken in his bed, just as he had for as long as he could remember, and tonight he would be sorted into one of the four Hogwarts Houses and be assigned quarters at the same school his parents had attended – both his Black and Potter parents.

He sighed as he got to his feet, sweeping his eyes across those that were also sat at the table. It was a small family tradition, to start the morning together. They would share their plans for the day with one another, often with Arcturus asking Remus to perform some task or another, while Sirius and he would plan something fun and exciting.

He would have it no other way and would miss them fiercely.

Arcturus had remained quiet the entire meal, his eyes sad but proud. Remus had attempted to read the morning's Daily Prophet in an attempt to pretend it was like any other morning, while Sirius had glared at his food as if it had personally offended him.

"I'll go and get my trunk, shall I?" Harry asked the table at large as he fiddled with the hem of his long-sleeved tunic under the sleeveless leather coat. It was rather odd that Hogwarts had two uniforms, though Arcturus had said it was the uniform of the older, more traditional families that kept ties with the Capitol.

Arcturus inclined his head slowly, and Harry found himself striding from the room with far more confidence than he felt. He loved Blackwall and the people that made it home, but he knew he would miss them something awful. Besides the excursion to the Capitol two years ago, he had never been separated from any of them for an extended period, with each trip since then having been taken from Rosestone's Ro'rim.

Would they miss him as he would them? Surely. Sirius would be a mess for the coming months, he was sure of it. Maybe he would mope around for a few days as Padfoot until Arcturus threatened to stick him in a kennel outside.

Remus would bury himself in work, as he always did when something was bothering him while Arcturus would return to his political arena in the Wizengamot with a vengeance that almost made Harry feel sorry for his opponents. Almost.

Harry took the steps two at a time and hurried to his room, throwing open the door and watching as his two favourite girls startled a little. Clara had only continued to bloom in the last two years, her plumage becoming brighter and fuller. He had done a little research over the two years since their bonding, though what little information he'd been able to discover about their Burning Day's was less than he'd have liked. As it happened, Clara had yet to have one, but he wanted to be prepared so as to make it as comfortable for her as he could.

Next to her, on a separate golden perch, was his most recent companion – a beautiful snow-white owl that he had named Hedwig, in honour of a witch he had read about in Hogwarts: A History. She was a feisty and proud thing, with gorgeous white plumage with little black spots on the ends of her wings.

Despite their size, the two familiars had not had any trouble pushing, shoving and nipping at one another for the right to rule the perch when he had first brought Hedwig home in July, forcing him to have to order a second perch, all for Her Royal Hedwigness, as he had taken to calling her.

Hedwig leapt from her golden tower and flapped her way across the room to land on his shoulder, nipping playfully at his left ear. He glanced at her, chuckling and couldn't help but notice that she was looking in Clara's direction rather smugly. Clara, seemed to be watching the Snowy-Owl with something akin to exasperation, if the red and gold oversized pigeon could feel such a thing.

"Now, no fighting while I'm away, otherwise there'll be no treats for either of you. Hedwig, you're to stick to your own perch, and Clara," he paused, raising an eyebrow at his Phoenix. "no cooking Hedwig." Clara lifted her head snootily and refused to look at him.

While it was technically possible for a witch or wizard to bond with many familiars – the record, he had found out was twenty-six – it was an unwritten rule that students were only permitted to bring one. As a result, Clara would be joining him while Hedwig would take up the role of handling his correspondence.

He felt the weight on his shoulder disappear as Hedwig flapped back to her perch. With the weight removed, he moved over to his trunk. It was an older model that was designed with plenty of storage space. If one were to open the lid, they would find a simple set of stairs that would lead to a small storage space with enough room for all of his belongings. It had a wardrobe, a set of draws for his clothes, and various stacks of shelves, boxes and draws for his books and writing equipment. He had enough quills to cover a dozen Claras.

What was the most special about this trunk though, wasn't the magic that had been woven into its construction, or the faded red and gold dyed leather. No, it was the three initials stamped proudly between the heavy golden clasps: J.C.P.

Sirius and Remus had sat him down the morning before they had gone to Diagon Alley and presented him with his father's trunk. He had assumed he would get one of his own during their brief shopping adventure, but to have something physical that he could reach out and touch that was his fathers was almost too much. He had thrown himself at Remus and Sirius, too emotional to say anything. The two men had swept him up in their arms and told him all about what his father would store in there – pranking materials, plans with dozens of diagrams of how to woo his mother and more. He snickered, picturing his teenage father writing down his plans late into the night like some evil megalomaniac from the stories he had read.

He sighed happily as his fingers traced the lettering tenderly. He may love Sirius like a father, and in some ways Sirius was his father, but there was a part of him that longed to know the man and woman who had given their lives for him.

With a sniff and a short, throaty cough, he stood and lifted the trunk easily in his hand. Whoever had charmed the case to be light was a genius. He gave one last look at the two birds from his doorway. "I'll see you at Hogwarts, Clara. I'll see you soon, Hedwig."

He walked down the stairs easily enough, the trunk in his hand bouncing easily with each step. At the bottom of the stairs were the three adults, all adorned with their armour and fur cloaks resting on their shoulders. He smiled at them and fought hard to blink the tears away. Part of him truly didn't want to leave them – would it be so terrible to be home-schooled?

"Gods, you look so much like your father did, pup." Sirius breathed. Harry smiled at him as he walked down the last few steps.

"Except for his eyes – he has his mothers' eyes." Remus added, reaching over and ruffling Harry's loose locks of hair. Harry scowled, putting the trunk down in the hallway for a moment as he attempted to tame his hair once again.

"Aye, he's becoming a fine young man." Arcturus grinned at them. "Come, we should leave now to avoid the rush."

They all nodded, Sirius bending down and picking up Harry's trunk before he could reach for it. He looked up at Sirius, one brow raised. Sirius winked down at him. "Let me do this for you at least, pup."

Harry nodded, silently following the adults into Arcturus's study. It had been announced the day prior that they would be using the Floo to travel to the platform, rather than Apparating – something which Harry was immensely glad for. He had experienced it for the first-time last month, when he had gone and visited Neville and Daphne at the Greengrass estate. It had been an awful experience, and even now he had to force down his meal, lest it end up on the floor.

The quiet pitter-patter of tiny feet on the wooden floorboards brought him to a halt just outside Arcturus's study as the adults entered. He turned around to see Lispy running down the hallway with something wrapped in a napkin while her other hand worried the flesh of one of her flappy bat-like ears.

She leapt the last metre and wrapped her arms around his leg, her quiet sobs breaking his heart all over again. He had known for many years that Lispy thought of him as her own, and he was thankful that she cared so much.

"Master Harry will bes hungry on the train. Can't bes having that. Still a growing boy." She managed through the tears.

He smiled and knelt down before her as she handed him the napkin. He opened it up a little to reveal a small pastry in the shape of a House Elf. He looked at Lispy and quickly pulled her into a hug. "I'll miss you, Lispy."

The little Elf grinned before shooing him towards the door. As he entered the room, he saw the three adults standing patiently for him, each with a small handful of Floo Powder already in their grasp.

"What have you got there, pup?" Sirius asked, a crooked smile on his face.

"Lispy didn't want me getting hungry on the train." He chuckled in return, affectionately pulling the small Elf into his side as best he could.

"Come on then, lets get a move on." Remus chuckled, stepping into the fireplace as Harry re-wrapped the pastry. There was a flash of green flames and Remus was gone.

Arcturus went next, shortly followed by Sirius. When it was Harry's turn, he stepped into the hearth with his powder in one hand, and wrapped pastry in the other and called out clearly, "Platform Nine and Three Quarters!"

There was the familiar sense of weightlessness as the green flames swallowed him. When they receded, he found himself stepping onto a train platform with large brick pillars and a high ceiling with dirty windows. There was a large walkway that hung above the tracks, where a beautiful red train sat, puffing large clouds of steam.

He grinned as he took in the front of the engine: Hogwarts Express. It was really happening.

"Over here, pup!" Remus called, waving over to him as he moved away from the Floo. He jogged over to the group, unable to wipe the excited smile from his face.

The adults around him all chuckled as he took the trunk from Sirius. "Now, I expect you to behave yourself and excel in your subjects, do you hear me?" Arcturus said, his voice commanding and powerful. The wink he gifted Harry with belied his seriousness.

"Do you have the map?" Sirius whispered as he knelt and pulled Harry into a powerful hug. Harry nodded into his Godfathers shoulder. "Good. And the mirror?"

"Both are in the trunk."

"Excellent. And you remember all those charms and spells I taught you?"

Harry did remember them. For the last most, Sirius had been teaching him spells to clean his teeth, dry his hair, fold his clothes – all sorts. They were mundane spells, but they were the first bits of magic he had performed with his wand – he had been using them every day since they had returned from Diagon Alley. Harry nodded.

"Wonderful. I'm so proud of you, pup. I know you'll do me and your parents proud." Sirius grinned, his eyes shiny. Harry didn't complain when Sirius pressed a kiss to his brow as he stood.

"You do this old wolf proud, Harry. Remember, if you have any questions, you just owl me and I'll answer them as best I can." Remus said, pulling Harry into a hug. Harry nodded and murmured a quiet promise. If he could, he'd be writing to them all each day.

"Now, you go get yourself a cabin and find Neville and Daphne." Arcturus grinned, making a shooing motion with his hands. Harry nodded and with another round of goodbyes, began walking towards the carriages.

A quick glance around the platform as he boarded showed no signs of his two friends. With a shrug, he stepped into the train and began moving through the long corridors between the cabins, quickly glancing in each one as he passed, checking for his friends.

He stopped halfway down when he eyed a young girl his age with large bushy brown hair in the Muggle-born uniform curled up on a bench reading Hogwarts: A History. He thought it a little odd – most of the children his age were busy trying to make friends or chattering to friends they had boarded with. He considered asking if she were waiting for anyone but thought better of it. She seemed to be enjoying the book, and he would hate to interrupt her reading. Perhaps later, when they arrived at Hogwarts, he'd seek her out.

He continued on down the train a little more, only to grin widely when he caught sight of his friends in a cabin. He threw the door open and snickered at Neville's slight jump at the noise. Daphne just rolled her eyes.

He quickly closed the door behind him and pushed his trunk up onto one of the overhead racks before sitting down next to Neville. Daphne had her back against the outer wall and her feet up on the bench as she flicked through a book.

"Harry, you scared the bloody life out of me!" Neville griped, playfully shoving Harry in the arm. Harry grinned in response.

"Ah yes, it wouldn't be Harry if he hadn't made an entrance." Daphne quipped, hooking some of her raven hair behind an ear. Like Harry, both of his friends were dressed the same way.

"I like to think I'm consistent, thank you." Harry replied, leaning against the wall with the door and placing his own feet on the bench, though he bent his knees to allow Neville plenty of room.

"Did you bring Clara?" Neville asked after a moment. His best friend had been fascinated by the creature ever since he had returned with her two years ago, and Clara knew it. She would always preen and stand a little taller when Neville visited, or she would show off as she flew in the air.

"Could you imagine the reaction of the train if he had?" Daphne snickered – while she too had been fascinated by the creature, she took far more pleasure in teasing him over essentially bonding with a burning Peacock.

"That's a good point, we wouldn't get five minutes of quiet."

"Exactly. I have far too much to read without the two of you creating a circus of students in our cabin." Daphne sniffed, flicking a page delicately.

"What are you reading?" Harry asked as he fiddled with the wrist holster on his right wrist that Sirius had bought for him last week.

"A book on Merlin Hawks. Father bought it for me once I bonded with Merlin."

Neville snorted as the train gave a loud whistle and students of all ages passed their door. "I still can't believe you named him Merlin."

"In comparison to Trevor The Toad?" Daphne replied, her dark eyebrows rising almost to her hairline as she looked at Neville, who pulled the small amphibian to his chest. Harry hadn't noticed he had been holding him.

"I'll have you know Trevor is a noble name! He'll be the most feared Toad at Hogwarts, just you wait."

Harry snorted and ran a hand through his hair. "Oh aye, feared because we'll never know where he ends up."

Neville turned to reply to him but was interrupted by the lurch of the train pulling away. All three of them looked at each other and grinned.

"This is it." Harry breathed, waving at the window as they passed his guardians.

"Aye, the next time we board this train, we'll officially be witches and wizards." Neville replied wistfully.

"We're already those things." Daphne replied, rolling her eyes as she opened up her book once again.

Harry and Neville looked at each other and shrugged before leaving her to her book. They talked for hours, each coming up with their own ideas of what the coming years would hold.

Harry imagined himself returning home to Blackwall with enough spells under his belt to begin duelling with Sirius, though he knew it to be nothing more than a dream. Likely they wouldn't be taught spells advanced enough to duel until the later years – although, perhaps he could be wrong.

The truth was none of them had any real idea of what the school curriculum would be like outside of the books they had bought for their classes. Each of them had read the books cover to cover, of course – not wanting to be caught unprepared for the classes, though they had all been stuck when it came to the practical application of things.

Daphne's family, while Harry knew they traded in Alchemy and Potions supplies for the most part, actually didn't have any facilities to practice either of those trades in their ancestral home. Perhaps they had, long ago, but the room had likely been converted into something else by some ancestor or another.

Neville's ancestral home did have a Potions laboratory, but his grandmother Augusta had expressly forbidden him from using it until after his third year, when she felt safe in his using it. Augusta was a stern and protective woman, but she was a lovely person once you got past that awful vulture hat and sharp words. He couldn't blame her of her protectiveness – not after what had happened to both of Neville's parents.

He had gone with Neville to visit them a few times – Neville's mother had been his own Godmother, after all, so as far as Harry was concerned, they were family. It had been difficult, seeing them in that room, screaming and yelling as they thrashed about in their restraints. They had calmed somewhat at Neville's presence, but they still mumbled incoherently every now and then.

He and Neville had been friends for as long as he could remember – the two of them had practically grown up together. He considered Neville his brother, if not in blood then in spirit. He would be there for his friend whenever called upon – if that meant offering his support when those trips became too difficult, then he would do so.

Daphne had joined them some years into the friendship, and while at first she had been distant and aloof, she had eventually become the third part of their group. Daphne had been introduced to them at Blackwall, while her father conducted business with Arcturus.

Harry and Neville had wanted to run around and swing sticks at one another, but Daphne had insisted they simply sit and talk. It had taken some convincing on her part, but eventually the three had sat down and introduced themselves. In hindsight, and the benefit of age, he couldn't fault the dark-haired girl – being introduced to the two rambunctious boys must have been daunting for her.

A few hours later, they had convinced her to play with them, and she had. Though, she had nearly punched Neville in the face when he had suggested she be the princess in their adventure as gallant knights. She had proceeded to wipe the floor with both of them, leaving them wheezing and a little sore as she towered above them, holding her stick triumphantly. He hadn't underestimated her since.

His thoughts were interrupted by the door sliding open, and an elderly woman pushing a trolley poking her head in. "Anything from the trolley, dears?"

"No thanks, I'm all set." Harry answered, holding up his still wrapped pastry with a smile.

"I'll have a chocolate frog, please." Neville replied, while Daphne just shook her head.

With a chocolate frog in hand, Neville returned to his seat – his toad long since placed in his travel container. With deft fingers, Neville opened up the box and grabbed the chocolate frog as it leapt into the air – Harry had to supress a grimace as his friend bit the animated chocolate amphibian's head off.

"Doesn't that bother you? What with Trevor and all?" He found himself asking.

Neville shrugged as he frowned a little before swallowing what was in his mouth. "Never really thought about it. Besides, he's a Toad – they're completely different."

"They are?" Harry found himself asking, but ended up forcing himself not to groan as Daphne chimed in.

"Of course they're different. They're two different species, Harry. For example, a Frog has teeth, while Toads do not. Frogs have a mucus covered skin, while Toads do not."

"Forget I said anything." Harry replied, rolling his eyes as he opened up the napkin of his pastry.

As he took a bite, savouring the sweet taste of the strawberry jam filling, Neville let out a small cheer as he held a small card in his hand. Daphne rolled her eyes in her seat and returned to her seat, muttering something about boys and obsessions with stupid cards.

"Who did you get?"

"Only bloody Morgana!" He exclaimed. The quiet slam of Daphne's book closing made him jump a little.

"You did? Show me!" Daphne demanded. It was a well-known secret between the three of them that Daphne had a great deal of respect and admiration for the ancient witch – indeed, Harry did too, but he'd always prefer Merlin. Sometimes he did it just to wind Daphne up.

Neville offered her the card, and the two of them watched as Daphne gazed upon it almost reverently. "Morgana Le Fay, a witch renowned for her great magical successes and ultimately held responsible for the death of King Arthur. Morgana Le Fay was a known Animagus, taking on the form of a Raven and a recognised Mage. It is unclear what finally became of her, though it is rumoured she retreated from the world alongside Merlin." Daphne read out, before flipping the card and gazing at the woman depicted.

Harry moved to Daphne's side as he took the image in. She was beautiful, with thick dark hair that was pulled into a messy bun at the back of her head – though strands seemed to be arranged to mimic feathers.

She wore a deep burgundy shawl that left her arms bare and cinched around her waist, leaving a generous amount of her skin bare. Both arms had wraps and trinkets of some kind along them, as well as a number of dark tattoos. An elegant gold necklace hung around her neck with a brilliant sapphire.

"She's gorgeous." Harry breathed – he had never seen any depictions of Morgana Le Fay, and all the descriptions of her in the books he had read, had described her in not so many kind words.

"She did much for witches during her time. It is because of her that we can attend schools and vote. That she is held accountable for the death of Arthur, even all these years later is naught but the result of vile propaganda put forth by bitter old men."

Harry tore his eyes from Morgana, who he could have sworn winked at him, and looked at his friend. Daphne had admitted her admiration for the historical witch just this past Summer when they had ended up relaxing in her room when they visited her home. Harry had been looking for something to read, from her many books and had stumbled across a number of tomes dedicated to the woman.

It had been the first time he could remember seeing Daphne blush – that in itself had been something that he had never thought he would see. It had been weeks and he was still stunned.

"Keep it." Neville smiled from across the aisle. Daphne's head snapped up, her mouth wide in surprise.

"No, I couldn't." She began, already holding the card out to him.

"No, we all know how much she means to you. I'll get another one – just another excuse for more frogs." Neville winked, throwing his feet up on the seat and turning from the dark-haired girl opposite him.

"Well, that settles it. Congratulations, Daphne." Harry chuckled as he returned to his seat. He looked over at the girl and saw her beaming smile. It wasn't often she smiled, but each time she did he would swear it lit up the room.

Speaking of girls who's smiles lit up a room…

"Is Astoria going to be alright without you around?"

Daphne rolled her eyes as she stood and tucked the card into her trunk on the rack above her. "I think she'll miss Her Harry more than she'll miss me."

Harry grinned cheekily, "I always knew I was her favourite."

"Oh, that was never in question." Neville snorted.

It was true. If Neville was his brother, then Astoria had stolen his heart and become the little sister he had always wanted. Each time he visited the Greengrass family, he always had something for Astoria for her to enjoy – sometimes it was a soft toy, or a doll that was charmed to have a tea-party. The last time he had seen her, he had given her a small framed photo of himself with Clara and Hedwig on either side of him. She had attached herself to him for the remainder of his stay, regaling him with tales of her many tea-parties with the House Elves and her dolls, and her adventures on the grounds and how many monsters she had slain.

"Hey, it could have quite easily have gone to Hedwig." Harry snickered, casually folding his arms across his chest as he leaned back against the wall.

"Evidently, we're not talking about the same Astoria." Daphne snorted as she sat back down and crossed her legs.

"She's got you wrapped around her finger." Neville snickered. It was true – little Astoria would be the death of him.

"Guilty as charged." Harry replied, chuckling.

The daylight had long since faded into night, but by his guess, they still had an hour or two to go. Some of the older students had passed the room every now and then – some going so far as to stick their heads in the room to make sure they weren't up to something. On each of the uniforms of these students, Harry had spotted a small silver pin with the word Prefect on it. Sirius had warned him about the Prefects – apparently they were humourless students who lived and breathed the rules.

Remus, on the other hand had refuted that claim and instead told him – in a much more believable manner – that they were young witches and wizards who showed maturity and responsibility, and were trusted by the teachers to look after their fellow students. He had also pointed out that his mother had been a Prefect, and that both his mother and father had gone on to become Head Boy and Head Girl.

As it happened, each Prefect he had come into contact with so far on the journey had been perfectly polite and friendly. Harry figured Sirius had been caught once or twice by the Prefects of his time for some prank or another – Harry loved Sirius, he truly did, but he knew damn well that Moony had been the brains behind the Marauders.

That wasn't to say Sirius couldn't be devious and sneaky – far from it. Harry had suffered enough of his pranks over the years to say otherwise, but Sirius had a habit of acting without thinking, while Remus was much more cautious.

Harry let out a contented sigh as he shifted in his position and felt his back pop a little – the action causing little tingles the spread through his body.

"Must you do that?" Daphne asked from across the aisle. Harry looked over and noted she hadn't looked up from her book.

"Do what?" He asked, glancing at Neville who seemed just as confused.

"Crack your back – the sound is revolting."

Harry shrugged, "I don't mean to do it, it just happens."

"I'm sure." Daphne replied, her tone of voice making it quite clear she didn't believe a word he had said.

A knock on the door halted any reply he would have had. He turned to look at a group of children similar in age to himself.

"Have any of you seen Harry Potter? We've been looking for him up and down the train." A red-haired boy with freckles and dressed in the Muggle-born uniform asked.

The three of them looked to one another. Ever since his return from his trip a little over two years ago, his scar had almost completely disappeared, leaving only a thing white line to indicate it had in fact ever been there.

Harry shook his head ever so slightly.

"I'm afraid not. We'd certainly know if he had been in here." Daphne replied for them, quirking a brow at the group and the copper-haired boy in particular. It was the same look that Daphne had thrown in both his and Neville's direction a number of times – they'd usually done something to deserve it, though there were times Harry thought she did it just to make them sweat.

The group behind the boy groaned collectively, with one witch going so far as to stamp her foot petulantly. Harry noted for the first time that the boy had a streak of dirt on his nose.

"Excuse me," Harry began before pointing to his nose, "You have something on your nose. A bit of dirt."

The boy scowled and rubbed at his face, doing nothing more than to spread the smudge further. Before he could say anything more, the boy turned and stomped off, likely to bother another group – the small herd of children followed behind him.

Neville stood and closed the door with a scoff, "Honestly, the manners of some people."

Harry shrugged and returned to leaning his head back against the wall as he listened to his two friends.

"It's to be expected. There are many who worship Harry Potter." Daphne pointed out, her voice even and measured.

"True, but they only know the person from the columns in the Daily Prophet – not Harry."

"Aye, you're right but remember that the child that destroyed You-Know-Who is also that same eleven-year-old boy sat next to you."

"What do you mean? He's Harry!" Neville replied, quite obviously confused.

"Come now Neville, you're a powerful wizard yourself – surely you can sense the power Harry has at his fingertips? I know I certainly do. People will be drawn to him, one way or another – mark my words."

Harry squirmed at that. He didn't want to draw anyone to him – he'd rather just fade into the background of the school and do well in class. He didn't want to be paraded about as some poster child.

He had been lauded and celebrated ever since his supposed defeat of Voldemort, but nobody besides his friends and family had taken time to think about just what he'd lost. He had lost his mother and father, the two people who had given him life. Merlin, he didn't even know what he'd done, if he'd indeed done anything at all – nothing of Voldemort had ever been recovered as far as he was aware, not even his wand. It was anyone's guess what had truly happened – personally, he liked to think his parents had done The-Dark-Prick in. When he came of age, he already had plans to create a memorial statue for his parents in Godric's Hollow.

That was a place he hadn't thought of for some time. The last time he had been there, had been shortly after his return from Arpton Keep and gaining the fealty of those sworn to him. He had begged and pleaded with Sirius and Remus to visit their graves – he had to see them, to look upon them and be there. With them.

It had been shortly after he had recounted his life to them over the course of a warm summer afternoon that he had decided to have them entombed at Arpton Keep, with his father buried in the halls of his forefathers, with his mother buried alongside him. It had felt right, and in this way Harry could honour them as he wanted to – not as some Ministry official had some days after their deaths.

They had been moved six months later with all the honour and dignity possible – he had even enlisted the help of the House Elves that were bonded to him through Rosestone Castle. Those small, honourable creatures had proudly carried the coffins of his parents atop their shoulders through the Ro'rim and into Arpton. Sirius and Remus had followed him, both with tears freely flowing down their cheeks.

One of the benefits of the two adults were their memories and the castle Pensieve. He had hired an Artisan from the Capitol who was regarded as a Master Stone Smith to carve the statues of his parents to stand proudly above their final resting place. He had been assured that the stone wouldn't age as the Artisan weaved spell after spell into his creation. By the end of it, there had been a man and woman standing proudly before him that looked as real Sirius and Remus. He had sat there that whole night and simply looked at them, committing their faces to memory.

"Can we not talk about the power at my fingertips?" He begged as his eyes opened slowly. He blew out a breath.

Daphne sniffed as the train began to slow down. "I'm simply stating a fact. Not even Arcturus himself compares to you."

Harry rubbed at his temples as the lights from the Hogsmeade Train Station inched past their window. Both Neville and Daphne stood quickly – leaving their luggage in the racks for it to be collected and taken to their dormitories by the staff.

"You know it makes me uncomfortable." Harry grumbled as he too got to his feet, following Daphne out when Neville gestured for him to go first. He grinned at his friend.

Daphne shrugged a shoulder lazily as she looked over her shoulder while they inched down the corridor towards the door. "I don't know why, Harry. You'll be a magnificent wizard someday – I'm positive of it."

"Yeah, yeah, just keep walking, you impossible witch." He grumbled as he gave her a playful shove, pointedly ignoring the heat that had crept up his neck at his friend's words.

They stepped down onto the concrete platform as Harry awkwardly scratched at the back of his neck. All around them was a sea of black robes, with the occasional splash of red, yellow, blue and green. There were hundreds of students!

"Firs' years, this way! C'mon now! Firs' years, this way!" A loud voice called over the din of children nattering to one another. Harry turned to look for the source of the voice, only to have his breath leave him in a stunned gasp.

There, standing in a large moleskin coat with the thickest bushy beard he had ever seen, and an equally bushy head of long hair that fell down to his shoulders was an absolute giant of a man, with a large lantern held in his hand.

"Bloody Hell!" Neville murmured as his own eyes caught sight of the huge man.

"Keep it down, you idiots and pick your jaws off the floor!" Daphne hissed as she elbowed them both in the ribs as they took positions on either side of her.

Harry winced as he rubbed at his ribs and snapped his mouth shut.

All the children their age gathered before the man, who up close had a pleasant smile and kindly dark eyes hidden amongst the hair. "Right then, this way ter the boats then. C'mon now!"

They followed along silently, though Harry noted that it was only the first years that followed the large man. All the other students it seemed were walking towards a large grouping of carriages that were attached to large skeletal horses with black skin and large wings. He nudged Daphne in the side and pointed to the carriages and whispered, "What do you think those are?"

"What do I think what are?"

"Those horses attached to the carriages, of course."

There was a moment of silence as both Neville and Daphne looked towards the carriages before they were out of sight. His two friends looked at one another for a moment before turning to look at Harry.

"Harry, there was nothing there. The carriages were pulling themselves." Neville replied.

Harry frowned. Had he imagined them? If Neville and Daphne hadn't seen them, he must have been – it was likely the dark, playing tricks on him.

They continued away from the station, following the large man down a well-worn path that seemed to meander down a gentle incline. In the distance, behind the mass of feet and chattering children, he thought he could hear the sound of gentle waves on a shoreline. It reminded him of a beach that Sirius had taken him to when he was five.

"Righ' then! Four to a boat! C'mon, mind yer step!"

It took a moment for him to realise they were gathered on the shore of a lake, with dozens upon dozens of small boats tied to a series of small piers. He certainly hadn't expected to be arriving at Hogwarts in a boat – especially at night.

The crowd thinned as groups of students secured themselves in the boats, though as Harry peered closer, he noted the absence of any oars. How were they to move in the water? The realisation struck him a moment later, and he had to stop himself from burying his face in his hands – he felt like a fool. They were magic, of course!

A few moments later, they found themselves a boat with only a single occupant – that same bushy-haired girl he had seen on the train that morning. He suddenly felt guilty about forgetting about her sitting there on her own with her book.

She peered at them as they all climbed into the boat, and she appeared to be worrying the cloak of her Muggle-born uniform between the finger and thumb of her left hand.

"Hello," Harry smiled, "is it alright if we share your boat?"

"Of course." She replied, a shy smile of her own on her lips. "I'm Hermione, Hermione Granger."

Harry noted her accent – decidedly southern, and from around London if he were to take a guess. There were a number of wizarding families in that area – Merlin, her accent wasn't far off of Daphne's. Oh, Merlin, there couldn't be two of them!

"Daphne Greengrass." Daphne replied, offering her hand to the girl.

"Neville Longbottom." Neville added, offering a toothy grin.

"Harry. Harry Potter." He finished, wincing as she gave an astonished gasp.

"Holy cricket! I've read all about you! It's a pleasure to meet all three of you."

"Hear that, Harry? You're in books!" Neville snickered, causing Harry to cuff him over the back of the head.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to –" Hermione began, her eyes wide. She paused and took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say that I thought it an awful thing that happened to your parents."

Harry was stunned, and for a moment didn't realise that the boat was moving slowly away from the pier. Nobody, besides Neville and Daphne had ever said anything like that before – most often completely forgot he had lost his parents at all. He remembered one particularly callous ponce who had asked how they were doing. Sirius had leapt at the man, with Remus having to bodily lift him even as his fists and feet continued to swing.

"Thank you." He murmured as his gaze lowered to a particularly interesting bit of wood between his boots.

"Why do you think they've got us in boats?" Neville asked. Harry smiled at him, grateful for the change in topic.

"I would suspect, it's likely for that." Daphne replied, pointing into the darkness as they rounded a bend.

The boat rocked side to side ever so slightly as they shifted to look where Daphne was pointing. Harry gripped the side of the boat as it dipped a little too close to the surface of the lake for his liking – he had no intention of arriving at Hogwarts soaked to the bone.

He quickly darted his eyes from the murky black water to where Daphne was pointing. There, ahead of them and rising eerily out of the mists on the far side of the body of water, was a huge castle perched atop the rocky slopes of the surrounding countryside.

Its large circular towers rose powerfully into the sky, with their cone-shaped caps stretching even further still. It wasn't like any castle he had seen before – there were no curtain walls, though he certainly did spot what appeared to be a great hall of some kind that dwarfed any of the other buildings that were sequestered away in the darkness.

The entire castle was lit with the warm orange glow of lanterns and candle light flickering out of the many windows. It looked breath-taking.

All around him, the excited murmuring of the children in the nearby boats whispered across the lake until a girl shrieked and pointed out into the darkness.

Harry's head snapped towards the noise, and he saw a blonde girl pointing a trembling finger out across the lake where a large tentacle was idly waving to them. Harry definitely didn't want to end up in the murky water.

"It's beautiful." Neville breathed excitedly, looking over at Harry.

Harry grinned at his friend's excitement – it was true, the school was indeed beautiful. What would it look like in the daytime, he wondered? Today was a Sunday, which meant it was unlikely he would get a chance to see it tomorrow. The first chance he got; he would find a spot on the grounds overlooking the castle that would be his.

"Aye." Daphne whispered; her eyes wide as she continued to stare at the school. Harry gave her a poke in the ribs with his finger, though his snickering at his friend's expense was cut short when she directed her glare in his direction. The tongue she stuck out lessened the impact a little, he supposed.

It wasn't long before the giant of a man bellowed a warning as they approached one of the cliffs the school sat atop, "Heads down!"

Harry stared up at the high ceiling and couldn't imagine anyone needing to keep their heads down besides their odd guide. They were carried along a long tunnel that was wide enough for four boats to sit comfortably side-by-side – Harry had to slap Neville's hand away from a wriggling plant that hung from the ceiling as he went to touch it. Neville shrugged unapologetically – he couldn't blame him; Harry had long known of Neville's green-thumb.

They reached an underground harbour, much like the one they had boarded the boats on. Harry couldn't stop the smile on his face as he sat comfortably while their boat glided itself into an empty space. The four of them scrambled out of the boat, the dull thuds of their shoes and boots on the remarkably dry wooden planks echoed loudly throughout the large chamber the tunnel had opened into.

The large man lifted his large lantern in his meaty fist as his gaze swept the boats – once he was seemingly satisfied, he called for them all to follow him up a flight of smooth stone steps towards a huge oak door emblazoned with the sigil of the school.

"Everyone here?" The man asked, as they all nodded their heads. Harry thought there must be at least a hundred students looking at the man. "Good."

The man raised a gigantic fist and gave a booming trio of knocks that shook the door. Any harder, and Harry was sure the door would shatter.

The door swung open at once, revealing a black-haired witch of average height in emerald-green robes. She had a stern face as she peered over a pair of spectacles that were perched on her nose.

"The firs-years, Professor McGonagall," The man grinned.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take it from here."

The door swung wider, revealing a room so large it rivalled Blackwall's. His eyes swept the meticulous stonework, eyeing the four animals that made up the Hogwarts sigil. The lion of Gryffindor, the snake of Slytherin, the badger of Hufflepuff and the Eagle of Ravenclaw – all were illuminated by flaming torches, whose light reflected on the gleaming marble staircase.

Professor McGonagall, he knew, had looked after him for a time as a babe shortly after the death of his parents. At least now he had a face to put to the name and the stories from Sirius. It eased his mind somewhat to know at least one person in the castle outside of his friends.

He found himself being carried along by the sheer number of bodies as they moved to follow the Professor up the stairs, though Daphne and Neville never strayed from his side – though he noted Hermione was a little ahead of them as he saw her large, bushy hair turning this way and that as she looked around.

The sound of hundreds of voices quickly reached his ears through a pair of large doors, similar to the ones they had already entered through just minutes before, once they reached the top of the staircase. Rather than lead them into the room however, the Professor instead led them to a small room just a little further down the corridor. It was plain and unfurnished but was large enough to fit at least twice their number inside. The Professor remained by the door.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," The Professor began once everyone was inside. "The start-of-term feast, will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. These houses will become your family." A few students shuffled from foot to foot, and Harry heard someone scoff behind him – he fought the urge to frown and turn around.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history, and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points." The Professor paused and swept her eyes over them, though for some inexplicable reason, he felt her eyes linger on him for a moment.

"At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the House Cup, a great honour. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The sorting ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarted yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting." Her eyes lingered on the copper-haired boy with dirt on his face. "I will return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly." She swept from the room with the hem of her robes trailing after her.

"What do you suppose we'll have to do?" The voice of a boy in the back whispered loud enough for the rest of the room to hear.

"Fred told me we have to fight a Troll. Said they had to fight an Acromantula in their sorting – I reckon he was lying, though." The copper-haired boy replied confidently as he squared his shoulders.

A blonde-haired boy, who's hair was slicked entirely back with far too much hair product, scoffed and pushed his way to the front of the room as he sneered at the boy. Harry noted the blonde boy was flanked on either side by a pair of burly boys who were as wide as they were tall – they reminded him of Gorilla's.

"Of course they were lying, you idiot." The boy sneered as he rolled his eyes. "It's no wonder your family can't afford proper clothing if they're all as thick as you, Weasley."

Harry noted for the first time that the blonde boy was attired in the same uniform as himself. He looked at Daphne, who just shrugged and pursed her lips in thought. Harry knew of the Weasley family – their house was also afforded the rank of Ancient and Most Noble, just like his own. Though, from his lessons with Arcturus, he also knew they barely managed to scrape-by and had a strong progressive stance when it came to Magical Culture – one of the many sons of the main line, the third-born called Arthur Weasley, if he remembered correctly, was a loud advocate for adopting Muggle traditions. It hadn't earned him, or the Weasley family as a whole, many favours.

"Shut your mouth, Malfoy." Weasley growled, and even from here Harry could see the tips of his ears turning a similar colour to that of the hair on his head.

Ah, so this was the Malfoy heir? No wonder he seemed a prick.

Lucius Malfoy was the head of the Noble House of Malfoy. While they could trace some of their lineage back to the Norman Invasion, they were a French family primarily. They held some weight in the French political arena, though the branch of the family that had finally settled in England had only truly arrived a hundred or so years ago. According to Arcturus, they liked to flaunt their money and small amounts of power to make themselves feel more important.

It was also a well-known fact in the Wizengamot – according to both Sirius and Arcturus, that the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge was so deep in Malfoy's pocket, he may as well have been sewn in.

"Please," Malfoy scoffed. "As if I'm concerned that you'd do anything, especially after your failed hunt for your vaunted Boy-Who-Lived."

Harry winced – he really hated that name. He noticed Hermione look over her shoulder at him and smile a little. He smiled politely in return.

"How did that go? I bet he's not even here – likely thinks he's too good for your rabble." Malfoy sneered, casting his eyes at the children around Weasley. Harry noted they were all wearing the Muggle-born uniform and felt his fists clench at his sides as his heart began pumping a little harder.

"Don't." Daphne hissed in his ear as she grasped the wrist of his right hand. "Let him make a fool of himself."

"He's treating the Muggle-born like dirt, Daphne. My mother was Muggle-born." Harry hissed in return.

"She's right, Harry. No need to make a scene before we've started school." Neville chimed in, patting Harry gently on the back. Slowly, he reined his temper in and took some slow, steadying breaths.

McGonagall returned at that moment with a thick scroll in her hand as she looked between Malfoy and Weasley. With a pointed look, she said, "I do hope the two of you weren't on the verge of doing something foolish. It would be a shame to begin your academic careers with detentions."

"No Professor, just a healthy debate." Malfoy replied, bowing a little and offering a smile. From the look on the Professor's face, it was anything but convincing.

"Indeed. In any event, the ceremony is about to begin. If you'll all follow me."

They did – the mass of black coats and cloaks followed in an orderly line out of the door and through the large doors that had barely been muffling the din of hundreds of noises before. This time as they approached, the noise was absent.

Professor McGonagall pushed the large doors that were easily six or more times his height and the sight that greeted him threatened to steal his breath. Along four long tables that took almost the entire length of the massive hall were hundreds of students of all ages from twelve to seventeen. Above each table hung the banners of each house, with Slytherin on the far left, then Gryffindor, the Ravenclaw and finally Hufflepuff on the far right.

Above them were thousands of floating candles and even higher than that was a large arched ceiling that was so high, he couldn't see the highest point.

"It's bewitched to look like the night's sky. I read it in Hogwarts: A History." The voice of Hermione spoke up, proudly informing the whispering students next to her that were looking up at the bewitched ceiling with looks of wonder on their faces. The students pinned Hermione with an odd look, but he thought nothing of it.

His head lowered, and he found his eyes drawn to the far end of the hall, where a large table sat upon a raised platform. All along it were adults in various robes, coats, suits and tunics. The staff appeared to be made up of all sorts, from young witches and wizards, to men and women who upon first glance seemed to be as old as the castle itself!

In the centre of the table was a man sat in a large golden throne with a long white beard that was pinched by a band in the middle of its length and had the appearance of a kindly, eccentric grandfather with halfmoon glasses perched on the tip of his nose.

Between the awaiting students and the table, however, was a simple stool and an ancient-looking pointed hat with a wide brim.

They came to a halt a few steps from the stool when Professor McGonagall held up a hand. He also noted the had come to a halt between the Gryffindor and the Ravenclaw tables. He looked around nervously. He looked at Daphne who gave him an encouraging wink, while Neville gave him a confident nod. No matter what happened, they would remain friends.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." McGonagall called into the silence. She unrolled the parchment, which was longer than he was expecting.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line, carefully perched herself on the stool and put the hat on her head. There was a moment's pause before a deep voice called, "Hufflepuff!"

Where had that voice come from? Harry looked around the room for a few moments until his eyes caught sight of the hat moving! The hat was bewitched! That was bloody brilliant!

"Bones, Susan!"

He knew the Bones family. Amelia Bones, the current regent for the family until her niece came of age, was the head of the D.M.L.E – the 'police force' of magical Britain. He had met Amelia a number of times over the years, and she was a kind but stern woman with a sharp jawline, high cheekbones and full lips with her hair always tied up in a blonde knot at the back of her head. Sirius always insisted on trying to flirt with her.

"Hufflepuff!" The hat called out to the cheers of the Hufflepuff table. He watched the girl scurry off to sit next to Hannah Abbott.

"Boot, Terry!"

"Ravenclaw!" This time it was the Ravenclaws turn to erupt in a cheer and Harry winced at the din.

Harry began tuning out the names and the cheers until a name he recognised was called for.

"Granger, Hermione!"

He watched as Hermione practically sprinted to the stool and jammed the hat on her head. He chuckled – no doubt, wherever she ended up she would do well with that enthusiasm.

There was a moment of heavy silence in the hall before a resounding, "Gryffindor!" was called.

The table to his left erupted with cheers, just as they had done with all of their other new students. He grinned and waved at Hermione as she ran to the table – she waved back and sat down to pats on the back from those on either side of her.

"Greengrass, Daphne!"

Daphne sucked in a breath from his side as she nodded to herself. She nodded at both Harry and Neville before she strode confidently towards the stool with her head held high. He didn't know who was more nervous, himself or Daphne. She donned the hat slowly.

"Slytherin!"

Harry and Neville were cheering just as much as the Slytherin table and received a few odd looks from those around them. Daphne blushed a little before darting towards the table as she sat besides a girl that he remembered to be called Davis.

Eventually, it was Neville's turn, and as he stepped from the line, Harry gave him a firm pat on the shoulder. Neville sat slowly as his coat pooled around his legs. The hat barely touched his head before, "Gryffindor!"

Again, the Gryffindor table erupted in noise and cheers and Harry was no different as he clapped his hands together. Neville was so excited; he began moving to the table before he realised he was still wearing the hat!

Harry listened to the names as they were rattled off. Malfoy, Mallard, Moon, Nott, Newt, Parkinson, Passel, Patt…

"Potter, Harry!" Professor McGonagall called out far more proudly than she had any of the others, he thought.

He stepped forward, the whispers hissing all around him. He squared his shoulders and raised his chin.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The Professor gently laid a hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze as he stepped before her. He looked at her and thought her eyes looked a little shinier than they had been just a few moments before. "It's good to see you all grown up, lad. Your parents would be very proud of you."

He nodded shakily, as he turned to face the hall. With a deep breath, he sunk onto the chair and closed his eyes as the hat was lowered onto his head.

"Oh, a Potter, eh? It's been some time since I've had to place one of your lot. It can only be… Gryffindor!"

The table of Gryffindor erupted like it hadn't for anyone else – each member having leapt to their feet as they cheered loudly. Harry grinned as he looked to the Professor who beamed proudly at him, with a nod of her head, she shooed him off to the table.

He passed two identical lanky red-heads that were proudly stood on the benches and chanting, "We got Potter! We got Potter!"

He took his spot next to Neville who grinned and swept him into a one-armed hug. He looked over to Daphne who was beaming proudly at him from the Slytherin table.

He was immediately caught up in a wave of well-wishers, handshakes, and pats on the back – even Hermione was grinning at him from her spot a little further down the table.

He looked over towards the stool, who had another student already perched on it and his eyes were drawn to the man in the golden throne – Albus Dumbledore. He watched as the man gave him a smile and a wink before raising a golden goblet in his direction. Harry nodded back with a grin and lost himself in the rest of the sorting.

The list quickly got to the young Weasley boy who was sorted into Gryffindor and tried to sit between himself and Neville, only to be denied with a pointed look from the two of them. He quickly plonked himself down on Harry's other side though.

Zabini Blaise, was the final student to be sorted, and as he moved to sit at Slytherin, Professor McGonagall rolled up her parchment and moved the stool and the hat to the side of the room before joining the high table at Dumbledore's right hand side.

As she sat, Dumbledore rose, and the hall became deathly silent.

"Welcome!" He called, a beaming smile on his face. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

The hall clapped and cheered as Dumbledore once more took his seat.

"He's mad." Neville whispered in his ear, causing Harry to snicker.

There was a rush of magic from the tables, and immediately the plates and dishes arranged on the table were filled with all sorts of food. There were sausages, potatoes, vegetables, whole chickens, legs of lamb and even some venison steaks!

His mouth was watering at the sight and more importantly, the smell.

He reached out and began spooning vegetables onto his plate, followed by a juicy venison steak lathered in a moderate portion of gravy. He began carving into his food with his knife and closed his eyes in contented bliss when the meat from his first forkful melted on his tongue.

"Careful there, Harry. If your eyes go any further into the back of your head, they'll get stuck!" Neville chuckled after swallowing his own mouthful – a quick glance at Neville's plate told him it was chicken.

Both of them sat with straight backs, with their elbows tucked tightly into their sides as they ate. The Weasley boy to Harry's left, however, was all elbows and loud smacking lips and slurping gulps of gravy.

Harry watched as a pale, grubby hand snatched out to grasp a chicken leg. It was so terribly fascinating; he just couldn't look away.

After only a few minutes of eating, Harry found himself fully sated and it wasn't much longer until the plates and dishes disappeared, only to reveal mountains of desserts. There were ice creams, pastries, fruits, chocolates – all sorts! Harry cut himself a small slice of treacle tart and grabbed a juicy looking apple.

A conversation on the far side of the Weasley boy that drew his attention – apparently the conversation on the table between the first years had turned towards their blood-purity – frankly the oddest dinner topic he could think of.

"I'm half and half," A boy was saying, his Irish accent thick between mouthfuls of food. "Me dad's a Muggle. Mam's a witch. Bit of a nasty shock he found out!"

There was a smattering of laughter around the boy, and Harry couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped his lips as he listened in.

"What about you, Longbottom?" Someone asked – a dark-skinned Muggle-born judging from his uniform.

"Don't be stupid, Longbottom is an Ancient and Noble House! Of course he's a Pureblood!" Someone called out further down the line of students.

Neville had turned scarlet next to him as he glared at the offending students.

"What about you, Potter?"

"Everyone knows House Potter is even older than Longbottom!"

"I heard he's Muggle-born!"

"Quiet!" Harry snapped as he threw down his fork, suddenly far less hungry than he had been before. The voices around him had silenced themselves as each student shifted awkwardly in their seats.

Dozens of eyes were staring at him, wondering what he was going to say. He took a deep breath.

"Why does it matter?" He asked after a moment, casting his eyes along the table.

"Well, you defeated You-Know-Who, surely you're a Pureblood to be that powerful!" Someone asked.

"Yeah, you'd have to be powerful!"

"You all honestly believe your blood determines how powerful you are?" Harry gasped. He knew it was a common train of thought that founded the Traditionalist political agenda, but to hear it come from those no older than himself?

"What else could it be?" A Muggle-born asked – he noted Hermione was watching the events play out quietly as she slowly ate from a bowl of fruit.

"Magic?" He asked the table at large. He looked at their confused faces and sighed. "Your blood could be a contributing factor, but so can magic."

"What do you mean?" Weasley asked after a moment with a frown on his face.

"What separates us from Muggles? Magic. Magic chose us!"

"What, so magic is alive? Is that it?" Weasley snickered as he snapped a biscuit in two.

Harry shrugged, "I have no idea – but there are plenty of records of wizards and witches with little power being born to Purebloods, as with anyone else."

"So, which are you?"

He heard Neville sigh next to him, and Harry fought the urge to rub at his temples. He could feel a headache coming on.

"Did you not just listen to him? He obviously doesn't want to talk about it." Neville snapped, throwing down his own fork. "Why does it matter in any case? We're here to learn about magic, not family lines. Have some regard to his privacy, for Merlin's sake!"

There was a beat of silence before Weasley spoke up, "Well, I'm a Pureblood!"

The conversation started up again, and Harry gave Neville an appreciative smile before turning to talk between themselves as they tried furiously to ignore the conversation around them. It wasn't long until the plates emptied once more and the attention of everyone was drawn to Dumbledore, who had moved around the table to stand before a golden podium with owls decorating it.

"Ahem – just a few more words now we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you." Dumbledore's eyes swept the room. "First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils, while a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."

Harry snickered alongside Neville as Dumbledore's eyes settled on the pair of red-haired twins at their table.

"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, our caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors." At this, Dumbledore gestured to an odd-looking man with wild eyes that was lurking at the side of the hall cradling a cat.

"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madame Hooch." At this, Dumbledore turned to gesture to a severe-looking woman with short, spiky silver hair.

"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."

Harry and Neville both scoffed but paused when very few others on the table did.

"He's mad – this is a school!" Harry whispered to Neville, who likewise was looking around with wide eyes.

"How many do you think will end up trying to check it out?"

"Too many." Harry groaned.

"Now, I believe it's late enough and you all have busy days ahead of you tomorrow. Please follow your Prefects to your dormitories."

At that, every student in the hall rose to their feet as one, with the murmuring noise of whispered conversations, while the Prefects themselves called out for houses to follow them.

He followed the crowd of Gryffindor's out of the hall and up the great marble staircase. As he walked alongside Neville, he felt his eyes beginning to droop and he stifled a yawn behind his hand. Despite his tiredness, he did take the time to note the figures waving to them politely from their portraits.

A number of staircases and corridors later, they came to a halt at a portrait of a large woman in a garishly pink silk dress.

"Password?" He heard her ask one of the Prefects at the front of the mass of students.

"Caput Draconis." Someone said, causing the portrait to swing forward to reveal an entryway large enough for two adults to stand side-by-side.

Everyone scrambled through it, eager to reach their beds. It had, after all been a long day, full of excitement and good food.

The room they stepped into was large and circular, with large glass windows high up on one wall that allowed the pale moonlight to spill into the room. The fireplace was already roaring, bathing the large room in a comfortable heat, and large plush sofa's and armchairs surrounded it. There were little tables hidden away in various nooks and crannies where he could see himself working on his assignments quite contentedly.

There were four large staircases, with two on each side of the room, splitting in opposite directions.

"First year girls are up this staircase here – you'll find your belongings and such already in your rooms. Each dorm has a common space for studying and a shared bathroom, while each of you have individual rooms branching from that room. Boys are not permitted into the girl's dormitories – there are Wards in place that make it impossible and the staff will be notified if you attempt it." A girl's voice called out. Immediately, the girls scrambled for the staircase.

"First year boys, your quarters are up the opposite stairs. You all have the same set-up. Everyone else, you already know where your beds are. Get to bed, everyone!" The same boy that had given the password called.

Everyone shuffled off, breaking away in their own directions. Neville and he both found themselves circling the tower twice before they came to a small landing with their names on golden plaques outside a simple wooden door.

Harry looked to his friend when he noted the other names on the plaque. Seamus Finnegan, Dean Thomas and Ronald Weasley. Both shuddered a little – thank Merlin for the separate rooms.

They opened the door to find a comfortable looking common room, with a number of tables and chairs dotted around. There were portraits that hung proudly, no doubt men and women who had once lived in this set of rooms and had distinguished themselves somehow in history.

His attention was drawn to the doors that branched off from the small room, which in itself wasn't very large to begin with.

"Neville, yours is here!" He grinned, as he eyed the room next to his own. Neville opened the door, and over his shoulder Harry could see all of his belongings had been delivered and neatly put away.

"Let's see yours, Harry!" Neville grinned. Harry just rolled his eyes.

"You just want to see Clara."

"You're right, I do." Neville grinned cheekily as he opened Harry's door.

There, perched beside the bed on her golden perch was none other than his Phoenix familiar as she preened the feathers on her left wing before she gave herself a quick shake.

Harry rushed to the bed, looking for a particular part of the support by the headboard of the four-poster-bed.

"Can you find it? Have you got it?"

Harry grinned as his fingers found the initials: J.C.P

Harry had his fathers bed – this was going the be the best year ever.