The train and the station were just as familiar to him as Professor McGonagall and Diagon Alley were, and the cabins were familiar in the same way that the shops were; the only things that made him feel uncomfortable were the students themselves. Something was telling him that they were wrong. He found himself looking for someone, though he was unsure who, unable to help it.

He soon spotted Severus, and he could feel that calmness, the one he felt when they first met, that feeling of right, just as powerful as the feeling of wrong about the other students.

The twins greeted their longtime friend and boarded the train together, their things being lugged behind them until they found an empty compartment.

It wasn't hard for the three to get the trunks up when they worked together and soon the three settled in for the ride, happy grins on their faces as they relayed what they were most excited about.

It wasn't for another twenty minutes before the door slid open, four boys laughing as one was pushed forward and into the small room.

Willow froze when he saw them, his eyes locking on the untamable hair and round glasses.

A boy sitting in a compartment alone, a sad look in his eyes.

"Can I sit here? Everywhere else is full."

A boy sitting on a stool, his eyes hidden behind a large hat.

"Gryffindor!"

A girl crying in a bathroom, a troll looming over her.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

A girl lying perfectly still in a hospital bed, petrified.

'Follow the spiders.'

A startling message in blood, a cat hanging by her tail.

'The Heir of Slytherin has returned.'

A girl holding a cat protectively in her arms, an angry glint in her brown eyes.

"Keep that thing away from Scabbers!"

A dog, teeth digging into his flesh, pulling him away from a duo.

"Ron! Stop!"

A large goblet, filled with flames, twins standing before it.

"Bottoms up!"

A fight, a man standing up straight, wand in hand, robes billowing around him.

"What are you looking at Mr. Weasley?"

A dance, students in formal wear, teachers mingling in the crowd.

"Who are you looking at Ron?"

Before his mind could delve deeper into the scenes his brain brought forward, he heard laughing. Willow looked up at the doorway and saw four boys, two of them laughing and pointing at him, two looking decidedly uncomfortable.

"What are you laughing at?" Willow glared at them, his sister and best friend doing the same, Lily crossing her arms and Severus twitching to grab his wand.

The black-haired boy with round spectacles scoffed as he calmed himself.

"Looks like we have a few muggle borns with us this year," the boy announced with a smirk on his face.

"I'm not a muggle-born," Severus bit out, a glare on his face. Willow felt the urge to agree but stopped himself—he was muggle born. Wasn't he?

"Oh sorry, a pair of muggle born and a pureblood with no taste," the boy sneered before motioning for his friends to follow. The brown-haired boy gave them an apologetic glance before following his friends out.

"Are you okay?" Lily asked once the door slid shut. Willow sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his palms.

"I'm fine, just a bit tired," he admitted.

Lily smiled at him in understanding before offering her lap as a pillow. Willow was able to ignore his headache and lay down for a nap, Lily and Severus talking quietly to each other as Willow drifted off to sleep.

I'll watch Snape," a tall redhead announced whilst planning with his friends.

"You can't. You're in love with him. You wouldn't be able to kill him if you need to," a bushy brown haired girl told him sympathetically.

"We didn't know he was evil before. Well, not one hundred percent sure at least. I wish this could have gone differently, I'm sorry," a bespectacled black haired boy gave him the same sympathetic eyes as the girl.

Battle. That was what was happening around him—though he couldn't really understand what was going on. Who was fighting? Why?

Suddenly, the scene shifted. He was standing across from an older Severus, bright lights flashing around them.

Severus was holding a wand, pointing it directly at him, a bright green light escaping it and flashing just past his shoulder. He felt overwhelming relief, before a green light hit Severus in the chest.

Willow woke suddenly, a gasp escaping him. Lily and Severus were right there, ready to help.

"Are you okay?" Lily asked, holding him up, her arm around his shoulders.

"I'm fine, just got a headache is all," he assured them. Severus raised an eyebrow at him, his features remarkably young compared to the fading face from his dream.

"How much further do you think is Hogwarts?" Willow asked, averting his eyes to look at the floor.

"Not much longer. We should probably get dressed." All thoughts of the dream were pushed to the side as the three figured out how to get changed into their robes.

Willow watched the castle with wide eyes, a feeling of home overcoming him so painfully, he could already feel the all too familiar stinging in his eyes. Unwilling to show his emotions, he was able to suppress his tears.

The first years glided through the water until they got to the shore before being led to a door, Professor McGonagall was waiting for them, a stern gaze scanning the crowd of students until the last boat arrived.

They were led into a hall and told to wait for her there. Severus and Lily looked like they were in heaven—for different reasons. Lily looked excited, almost giddy, like she couldn't wait to learn everything about this new place. On the other hand, Severus looked relieved and happy. It was a look Willow had never seen on him before, what with the way Willow imagined Severus' father acted. Willow just felt an unexplainable yet familiar calmness at the very core of his being.

Soon they were being led into a large room, one that was much bigger than the hall. Looking up revealed an impressive ceiling, with thousands of candles floating in mid-air and the night sky darkened above them.

"It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in Hogwarts: A History."

Willow quickly looked away from the ceiling and willed himself to focus on the room he was in, taking notice of the five strategically-placed tables before him.

One table ran the length of the room at the back while four tables of varying color were lined before it. Young witches and wizards (who looked between the ages of eleven and seventeen) filled the four colored tables, while older witches and wizards (whom Willow assumed were teachers) sat at the raised head table furthest away from him and the other first years.

A stool stood before the teachers' table, two of its three legs were backed against a rise in the floor, the third looked like it would crumble with the slightest pressure. Atop the stool sat an old hat, its color faded and appearance ragged. The first year students gathered before the hat, between the blue and yellow tables, whispering among themselves quietly.

Soon enough, the hat seemed to rise up, animated, and joyously started to sing. Willow wasn't surprised at the moving hat, not like the rest of his year mates, who let out noises of bewilderment around him. While the fact that the hat spoke hadn't surprised him, the feeling of expectancy had: he had expected to see the hat talk, and he didn't know why.

Once the hat stopped its tune, the students were called up, one by one, to sit upon the stool and be sorted by the magical headdress. While the students were excited, Willow noted that each student was just as nervous as the child before them. He didn't blame them—the sorting would choose who he belonged to for the next seven years.

"Evans, Lily." Willow watched his sister move up to the hat, the girl sitting gracefully on the stool with a smile as she debated with the hat in the privacy of her mind.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat cried out after a minute or two, sending one of the far tables into an uproarious cheer. Lily grinned wider as she stood, helpfully handing the hat to the teacher before making her way to the red table with a skip in her step.

"Evans, Willow." Willow ignored the snickering bespectacled boy from before and his friend as he made his way to the hat. He didn't sit as gracefully as his sister and almost fell off the stool, though he managed to catch and right himself before anything too dramatic happened. He was startled when the hat was lowered over his eyes.

"Well look at this, you've been sorted before. I don't know how; I certainly don't remember you. A Weasley… hm, didn't I sort one of you just a few years ago?" Willow was startled by the deep voice crooning directly into his thoughts, his hands gripping the stool almost painfully.

"I-I'm not a Weasley, whatever that is," he muttered, earning a few snickers from the students, who he had forgotten and who could hear him but not the hat.

"Repressing everything I see," the hat started, his voice a deep rumble, "well, from what I saw, you're better off not knowing, and there's only one way to help you with that." Willow felt dread filling him slowly as the hat seemed to debate with itself.

"SLYTHERIN!"

You could hear a pin drop. Willow could feel the abject horror and mortifying shame when he heard the name of that house shouted. For some unfathomable reason he felt as if he was letting someone down—but then, he also felt a feeling of relief, freedom, and independence. He was his own person; he wasn't part of a unit, not just another one.

Willow made his way silently to his seat and the sorting continued. Willow got lost in his mind until he heard his best friend's name called.

Severus walked calmly, his head held high as he moved to the stool. Willow had a brief feeling of horror—what if he didn't get into Willow's house? What if he went to Gryffindor with Lily?

Willow breathed a sigh of relief when the hat bellowed out the name of Willow's house. Both boys were immensely happy and chatted the whole night away, waving across the room whenever they saw Lily.

Later that night, in the privacy of his bed, curtains closed tightly, Willow wept for a life he didn't know he had forgotten.