A/N: Inspired by Deprived by 'The Crimson Lord'

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Chapter 2: Hogwarts Ahoy!

James Potter rolled his eyes with fond affection at the scene in front of him, it was always the same every year. Lily would run around the house, wand in hand, clearing the clutter that managed to accumulate over the holidays. Thomas, as usual, would leave his packing to the last minute, running around, searching for one thing or another. Little Rosie commandeering the sofa to scold her brother for being irresponsible.

The Potter patriarch shook his head, trying in vain to get rid of the vision of another boy who should have been part of the family routine, a boy with messy black hair and startling emerald eyes, jumping from sofa to sofa in excitement at the thought of a year at Hogwarts. Harry always had so much energy, he reflected with a sigh.

"Lily, darling, leave something for the house elves to clean, else they might die of boredom. The poor things."

"Oh James, I know but we won't be here until next summer and what if, what if Harry returns and he thinks we don't live here anymore because the house is so dirty?"

Silence permeated the room in an instant. Life wilted as everyone's minds drifted to the thought of the eldest Potter child. Thomas seemed to shrink into himself and Lily, Lily dropped to the floor in a flurry of sobs and tears.

His heart shattered with every step he took towards his wife. His Lily should never be allowed to look so frail, so weak. It went against everything he knew about his wife. However, Harry was the one person given the power to turn even someone as strong as Lily, into a blubbering mess.

"The house elves are on hand, to let Harry know we've moved to Hogsmeade during term time," barely holding onto his own emotions, he scooped his wife into his arms consoling her with an ease borne from practise, "Harry will find us, love, we've just got to keep waiting a little more."

"Will he James? Will he want to find us after everything?" her sobs were soon accompanied by wails.

James' heart twisted with an excruciating ache as doubts plagued his own mind.

Looking over Lily's mass of red curls, his eyes met a similar shade of hazel. Through the use of silent communication that had taken years to develop, he was able to get Thomas to come to their aid.

"Don't cry mum, I know Harry will come back to us."

"Thomas baby, you don't understand. Harry was so young; we should never have given him away-"

"Mummy? Will Harry hate me too?"

His eyes along with everyone else's in the room gravitated towards the youngest occupant of the room, the little girl with a fiery red mane and watery hazel eyes.

"It's okay darling, we'll find him but for now," letting go of the woman he loved, he nudged her towards the girl who looked ready to bawl her eyes out, "you've got to be strong, if not for us, then for Rosie."

James watched as a burst of energy traversed through his wife, plastering a smile on her face as she made her way towards Rosie, placating the child that looked ready to follow in her mother's footsteps.

Yep, the same every year.

King's Cross Station, I feel the easy grin rest on my face, it's been a long time hasn't it, England?

I can't say I miss the bustle of muggles as they invade my personal space with no care in the world, neither do I miss the cacophony of noise they create as they go about their lives. It must be something about England as a whole. No place like home and all that jazz.

I snort at my own idiocy, yep 'home', I have no such thing.

"You alright there, son? You lost or something?"

The ticket officer in front of me may have been an athlete at one point, his build suggests so, if you overlook his protruding stomach.

"Yes, actually officer, could you help me find this platform?"

I hand him the ticket in my hand, minus the muggle repelling charm used to stop him from seeing the actual location.

"Eh 9 ¾? Someone's pulling your leg kid."

"9 ¾? Where on earth do you see that officer?" I know my face has become a picture of bemusement.

I watch as the portly officer takes another look at the ticket in his hand, a ticket that has now turned a brilliant gold.

"What the? Wonka? Golden ticket...?"

The crowd of commuters offer an easy way to slip by unnoticed, messing with muggles will never get old.

My fingers brush the cold stone of the wall that draws the line between miracles and mockery. It almost seems like a taunt from the wizarding world, hiding something as big as the gateway to one of the most prestigious schools of magic, in arguably one of the busiest railway stations of the muggle world.

My companion, sheathed in an invisibility cloak, brushes against my thigh as we phase through the wall in tandem. He's kept surprisingly quiet throughout everything. Loud places were never his favourite, though to be fair, they were never my favourite either.

The sight of the gleaming red train manages to evoke a new brand of wonder in me, of possibilities that could have been, should have been.

Really? A train has managed to work me up? It's somewhat alarming that my carefully cultivated control of emotions is crumbling in mere minutes of being back in England.

Inside I know the real reason.

"Thomas! Hurry up or you'll miss the train!"

Breathe in. Breathe out.

I watch with gritted teeth, as a boy with red hair weaves through the gaggle of parents and students lined along the platform. The boy stops, sporting a grin as he rubs his head in apology to the woman whose hair mirrors his own. A perfect picture of mother and son.

A growl emanates from my right side, knocking me out of my self-imprisonment. The brush of his head against my thigh, lets me know that I've been stuck inside my own thoughts too long. Any longer and I would be setting myself up for danger.

"I owe you one, Fluff"

Another growl punctuates that he won't forget.

She's a professor? This just got a whole lot messier.

I settle into the first empty carriage of the train. Brandishing my wand, I transfigure the door into a continuation of the carriage wall. Without a door, there would be no way into the compartment short of blasting it open.

The curtains close with a wave of my hand and finally, I unsheathe the invisibility cloak off my companion, allowing him to settle in for the long journey ahead.

"Alohomora! I said Alohomora! Crabbe, Goyle, help me open the door. We need to teach whoever is in there what happens when they steal a Slytherin's compartment."

I can't stop the rolling of my eyes at the sheer idiocy laced in the moron's words. Wizards become so enamoured with their wands that they forgo most things, like logic. If he uses his eyes, then he will realise the door he speaks of does not exist.

"Wait! Where is the door to the compartment?!"

There may be some sense left in you yet.

"It doesn't matter! Alohomora!"

I revoke the previous statement.

Jools Henderson

Albus Dumbledore examined the name once more.

Transfer students were somewhat of a rarity at Hogwarts, in his years of teaching, he could count the number of children transferred on one hand. Students rarely transferred from their magical constitution due to the vast difference in curriculum between each establishment.

Durmstrang for example, whilst rumoured to be a school for the dark arts, did, in fact, have a curriculum bias towards offensive battle magic. The institute discarded electives like Muggle Studies in favour of Duelling classes. A rather long list of duelling champions hailed from the institute after all. Though with the recent addition of the new headmaster he wondered if the rumours surrounding the school offered any precedence.

Hogwarts' French counterpart, Beauxbatons, offered a much more balanced, though no less invigorating curriculum. The French had many electives ranging from Alchemy to Arithmetic. Beauxbatons prided itself on the diverse curriculum it offered its pupils, allowing them to pursue careers not only in the magical world but also the muggle equivalent.

Hogwarts' curriculum, in his unbiased opinion, boasted the best of both worlds. Although not as magically minded as it's Durmstrang counterpart, it was not as broad as Beauxbatons either. The school, whilst not limiting its students to jobs in the magical world, proposed an incentive for them to pursue a career in magic. The electives offered were carefully picked to showcase how widespread the opportunities with magic were.

It is rather odd that a student decides to leave behind what they were taught, especially during the last year of their academic life.

The Headmaster of Hogwarts steepled his fingers as he pondered on the mystery that was, Jools Henderson. He had triple checked with the Ilvermony institute, from where he was transferring from, going so far as to floo the headmistress herself.

Everything had checked out.

So, why do I feel as if something doesn't quite add up?

Albus Dumbledore had learnt throughout the ages to trust his instincts. His instincts allowed him to narrowly dodge death numerous times during the war and right now, they were screaming at him that something was amiss.

Noting the time, he realised he would not need to wait much longer to meet the young man in person.

The feeling of warmth that encompasses me as I return the door to its stead, is worth the time it takes for me to do the transfiguration with my wand, as opposed to completing the action wandless.

"Sorry Fluff, but you got to hide again. Wouldn't want the little brats scared to death, now would we?"

I wrap him up in the silvery cloak as he grumbles at me.

"I'll let you out as soon as we get to Hogwarts okay? You can hunt, pee, poop or do whatever it is you want there."

There is a knock on the door, as I finish clothing myself in the Hogwarts uniform. A dark-haired male enters, his grey eyes shining.

"We've reached the station, so you can make your way out as soon as you're dressed."

Confusion is laced into the boy's features as he takes me in, I suppose I should get used to it. This would likely not be my last encounter with the look.

"I'm sorry, but who are you? I've never seen you before."

"It's quite rude not to introduce yourself when asking for someone's name, you know?"

"Oh! Sorry! I was so confused; I lost my manners. Cedric Diggory."

"Jools Henderson, pleased to make your acquaintance. You'd be correct in your observation. This is my first and now that I think about it, last year in Hogwarts."

"That's cool. I've never heard of someone transferring, to be honest. Where are you transferring from? If you don't mind me asking?"

"It's alright, I imagine I'll be reciting this quite often anyway. I was studying at the Ilvermony institute before this year."

"Wow. All the way from America? That's a long journey. Anyways, let me be the first to introduce you to Hogwarts."

I stare at his proffered hand, long enough to make him second guess himself, a small red patch bleeding onto his cheeks.

"Excuse me, I'm always lost in my own thoughts. Thank you, I'm sure it'll be a wonderful year."

His handshake is firm underlying his strength, though, like most teenage wizards, his hands are soft, absent of the calluses that line my own hands.

"Would it be too much trouble for you to show me around?"

"Nope! I'm actually a prefect, so it's probably something one of us ought to do."

We make our way out of the train, Cedric filling me in with information I had already gathered before arriving here.

It's all about pretence, playing the role of a new student is key in assessing who the big players of Hogwarts are.

I look down to make sure my companion hasn't strayed away from me. If he decided to run amok, I would be in big trouble-

"Watch where you're going Diggory!"

Looking up I see a small blonde boy scowling up at Cedric. His platinum blonde hair slicked back in an archetypal image of a pureblood. What's surprising, is the fact that an identical scowl is mirrored on Cedric's face. The boy from what I could deduce so far was an easy-going, placid character, so for him to scowl, the blonde kid must be someone he truly dislikes.

"You bumped into me Malfoy. Scram, before I give you a detention for talking down a prefect especially, in front of a new student."

Oh? A Malfoy.

The Malfoy heir takes one look at me before turning his nose up at me, evidently, my guise doesn't warrant an introduction. He, like many others before him, has fallen victim to judging me by my looks although in this case, his mistake will not result in his demise.

"Whatever. Come Crabbe, Goyle we don't need to waste our time in the presence of a blood traitor."

Ah. This was the idiot that tried to open a doorless carriage with Alohomora. I expected the spawn of Lucius Malfoy to have some credential, at the least.

"I wonder, does he kiss his mother with that mouth?"

"God knows, that's the only action he'll get."

"I'm guessing you're not a fan of him," I allow a grin to enter my façade at the roll of Cedric's eyes, "he does seem a bit much."

"Me and about, three-quarters of the school aren't fans of his. I reckon even the Slytherin's wouldn't tolerate him if it wasn't for his father."

We make our way to some Thestral drawn carriages, although I'm aware the traditional way to enter Hogwarts for the first time is via the boat, I opt to skip the tedious trip in favour of the carriages. A decision, I'm sure my invisible companion will be grateful for.

Cedric continues his rant on the scion of the Malfoy house, none too aware that he was failing his prefect duties. The fact that the blonde ponce has managed to turn an easy-going boy like Cedric into a fulminating mess, reflects greatly on the kind of character Malfoy Jr is.

The Thestrals eye me warily as I get in, they are aware of the presence of a predator.

"-honestly, we're lucky Thomas and his group of Gryffindors keep him in line, otherwise he'd have free roam of the school."

I refuse to react to that name, to give power to someone who I long thought below me.

"The Potter heir? I was under the impression he was as arrogant as they come?"

"Yeah, Thomas, he was an equivalent to Malfoy in every way in the first year. Everyone worshipped the ground he walked on but then the whole Potter scandal happened, and he lost most of his 'friends' in seconds."

"And what a scandal that was."

"I didn't know the story reached all the way to America."

"I'm sure the tale of the boy who lived has reached all the corners of the globe."

"It's no wonder fame got to his head-. Hey, I forgot to ask you, how comes you don't have an American accent?"

"I'm originally from the UK," lies, they work the best when laced with a touch of truth, it makes it harder for the target to spot loopholes and leaves them with no option but to trust you implicitly, "I lived here for a good ten years before moving across the pond. Regular holidays back here made sure I didn't adopt an American accent. That's not to say I can't do a mean American accent." I let my words drawl in a decidedly southern way.

"Wicked! Where was I again?"

"After the scandal."

"Oh yeah. Can you believe that though? The Potters actually abandoned one of their kids? How could you do that to your own child?!"

"As you said, fame has a way of getting to people, even to the best of us."

"Yeah, I don't envy them, especially after the media got their hands on them. They went from hero to zero in a flip of a switch. After that, Thomas had no option but to mature lest he brings even more hate on himself. Makes me wonder, how the other kid is, if he's even alive?"

The kid had no choice but to abandon his childhood and grow into a man.

"I'm sure the kid is fine, wherever he is."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Call it a hunch."

"Funny guy. Anyway, we're here and I need to go and check up on the idiots I call my friends. Just go through the large doors down there and wait with the first years, I'm sure Professor McGonagall will know what to do with you. Don't be a stranger Jools."

"Thank you, Cedric, I'll try not to be."

Minerva McGonagall looked over the sea of faces, she would be lying if she said this was not the favourite part of her job. She let a rare smile bloom on her face, bearing witness to the excited visages that would one day be the future of the Magical universe, it would make even someone as stern as her smile.

Her smile waned a little when her eyes met with a peculiar set of blue orbs. It would be hard to miss the seventh-year transfer student that stood towering over the little first years, she was not sure how to feel towards the boy.

She, like the rest of the staff, had been made aware of the oddity behind the request.

McGonagall took the student in, dirty blonde hair combed over traditionally, a set of blue-green eyes on an unblemished face. He looked painfully ordinary, so it was a wonder, that someone so ordinary was garnering such attention.

"First years form an orderly queue in pairs and follow me please."

The opening of the doors allowed the chamber to embrace the racket coming from the great hall, moving forward she began counting down in her head.

3, 2, 1.

A chorus of ooh's and ahh's punctuated the hall as the first years took in the great hall for the first time.

How it must feel, to be so young once more.

"Wait along here please, now when I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the sorting hat on your head, and you will be sorted into your houses."

The transfiguration professor waited for the hall's furore to settle.

"Anastasia Lockwood."

Albus Dumbledore's eyes did not stray from that of the transfer student, the moment the great hall opened its doors, even as the new pupils were sorted into their houses.

Normally, nothing but pure happiness would fill his being as he witnessed the children take their first steps into the magical world. Childless he may be in blood, but at moments like this, he felt as if he was the father to each student that wore the hat.

Which was why it was surprising when he couldn't wrestle his eyes away from Jools Henderson. The boy looked ordinary enough but there was something vaguely familiar about him. Something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

Adjusting his glasses on his nose, he took a closer look at the boy's countenance, something was off.

There!

The boy's eyes pulsed with unyielding strength, as he traced the child's face, more warning bells were set off at how ordinary he looked. No length of hair was out of place, each eyebrow was identical to the other, not a blemish on his face.

Glamours.

The boy was wearing glamours but there was no telltale fuzziness around his form.

Layered. The glamours had to have been layered, there was no other explanation as to why he wasn't able to distinguish it easier. To be able to layer glamours requires both skill and practise, most of which regular seventh-year students lacked.

The Headmaster was dimly aware of the fact that his hand was feathering his wand underneath the table, the only thing stopping him from binding the intruder was his instincts. This time they were begging him to be patient and talk to the boy in a more private manner.

I watch as the Headmaster wars with himself, his hand subtly straying towards his wand.

My wand whispers words of promise in my own hand.

No. It would not do well to start a battle with the Headmaster of the school on the first day.

With much effort, I curb my instincts and let go of the wand. Albus Dumbledore was a smart man, he would not endanger the lives of his students by outright attacking me. The man was known to be level-headed and in my current predicament, I cannot help but respect him for it.

"Jools Henderson."

A new chorus of whispers erupt around me, I can only imagine the words being exchanged at my expense.

"What do we have here? Jools Henderson? I think not."

"It goes without saying that, that information stays between both you and me."

"A man full of secrets, you'd do well in Slytherin, the house of snakes will fit a man of your calibre perfectly. Hufflepuff maybe? Perhaps not, you do not have anyone you trust after all. What's this? A profound thirst for knowledge, Rowena would have my head if I place you elsewhere. Though she would find the task difficult, as I have no head. Putting you in Gryffindor would only result in a bloodbath, so out goes Godric."

"I think I should warn you, wander around in my mind at your own peril, there are things in here that even you cannot handle."

"You would allow me access to your memories and thoughts so easily? I know you can keep me out if you wish."

"Not being sorted would be counterproductive to my contract and as I said, my mind is not a place you would want to be lurking around in."

"It's a pity I can't put you in Gryffindor, you would have done Godric proud. It better be R- what's this?"

"You would do well not to go any further."

The relic, foolish in its curiosity, decides to ignore my warning. It does not realise the danger it has opened itself up to.

Until.

"Leave."

The hat blasts off my head, wailing in agony.

I watch as McGonagall rushes to the hat with haste. It's only now that I realise the once rambunctious atmosphere has stilled and, in its place, a deadly silence has taken over.

"Ravenclaw. The boy, he goes to Ravenclaw." The hat manages to get out before it folds in on itself.

I hope it's not dead, it probably wouldn't reflect well on me if I killed an age-old relic.

The whispers return with a vengeance as I take a seat on the Ravenclaw table.

The attention on me lessens as the headmaster begins his opening speech, I pay him no mind as I scan the faces in front of me, matching them with names I have embedded into my brain.

I am so absorbed in my task, that I almost miss the crack of thunder as the doors to the hall suddenly open.

In walks a man, a man that I recognise immediately.

Alastor Moody.

I should not be surprised as I had known beforehand, yet I still find myself being surprised. His legend spoke for itself, the man with one leg and a magical eye.

A magical eye that will probably cause me a few problems.

His presence generated respect, even here amongst a sea of snot-nosed brats.

"Mr Henderson, my name is Flitwick, your head of house and also your Charms teacher. Let me start off by welcoming you to Hogwarts."

I hadn't even noticed the diminutive professor leaving the table to reach me, so absorbed was I in the analysis of the war-torn wizard.

"Thank you, Professor Flitwick. Is there something you needed from me?"

The sea of angry voices drowned out the Professor's voice, I can only imagine it is because of the no Quidditch rule.

"Ah yes, not necessarily me. Professor Dumbledore would like to meet you once the feast is over, I shall escort you to him. Please find me when you're done."

"Of course, professor."

The diminutive man waddles away, leaving me to my thoughts.

It was probably too much to hope that he didn't notice.

A/N: Thank you so much for all your support, your reviews made my whole week! I'll try not to let you guys down.

Until next time!