The next day whispers followed Harry from the moment he left the Slytherin dormitory. He'd almost forgotten what it was like outside of Slytherin, in the hallways where people weren't too concerned about their own image to be caught gawking at him. People lined up along classrooms and stood on tiptoe to get a look at him, or doubled back to pass him in the corridors again, staring. Harry sighed. If there was one part of his life he wished the phenomenon that had brought them back here could have skipped, it was the constant staring.

But Harry was used to it. Ron, however, snorted and grumbled like one of Charlie's dragons every time he noticed a pair of wandering eyes. Harry rolled his own.

He poked Ron's shoulder. "I've survived worse than some stares," he reminded his future husband. He smirked. "You're starting to sound like Fluffy."

Ron growled, proving Harry's point, but schooled his features and pointedly ignored Neville's snickers. Draco had given them all strict instructions to keep a lid on their worst emotions. Any sign of upset was like blood in the water to a Slytherin, and Draco wanted to show no weakness to the other years' courts.

Courts, Harry thought faintly. Circles of elite students in each year who used their relationships to consolidate power. A formalized social hierarchy passed down through generations. Slytherin drama truly knew no bounds.

Draco, of course, had already secured his place as Prince of the first years' court. His legacy and political guile—he'd managed to bring the Boy Who Lived to Slytherin, hadn't he? —had made sure of that. Susan Bones had snared a position as well, as Princess, much to Pansy Parkinson's dismay. Ron was shaping up to be Draco's second. The three had already begun poking the other years' courts for weaknesses.

Harry had no patience for it. He was a fighter and a protector. He didn't like creeping about in the shadows, messing up peoples' lives with papers and pens. That was why he hadn't run for office after killing Voldemort. Too much dishonest backstabbing. Harry felt much more comfortable Avada'ing someone in the face than signing for their assassination.

However, Harry did understand battle tactics. If his morals had to be sacrificed to win the war, then he would be just as venomous as any other snake. The hat had wanted to put him here first, after all. It was time he acted like it.

Today's breakfast was his court's first maneuver. Hastily planned in the late hours of last night, it was meant to set the tone for the rest of the year. Looking around at the rest of his court members, Harry had to admit that the plan was a good one.

The group of vengeful first years had walked toward the Great Hall for breakfast as though prepared for war. They paused together for a just moment inside the doors, allowing the hall to notice them. They spoke quietly to one another, as though the hall's sudden silence were beneath their notice. Draco led their cohort, flanked by Ron and Susan. Half a step behind Draco, Harry walked with Neville, Blaise, and Theo. Daphne, Parvati, Seamus, and Dean brought up the rear. It was a comfortable formation for them all, not unlike how they've moved during the War, but the synchronicity seemed to unsettle the other students.

It wasn't long before they had the attention of the hall, if not for the execution of their entrance, then for their state of dress. Yes, Harry figured, they were in their uniforms, technically—but only just technically.

The girls all wore their hair free, accented by vibrant green ribbons. Susan's red fringe was held to the side by an emerald bow and Parvati's long hair was studded with tiny, ribbon-woven braids. Daphne had two small braids meeting at the back, held by fluttering ribbon, and Lavender's locks fell in a riot of curls, with two pinned-in green bows on either side. They all wore the pleated black skirt, sweater vest, blouse, and robes, but their stockings were either bright emerald or silvery grey. Pinned to their lapels were buttons designed for their personalities.

Susan grinned at hers as the picture changed from a cute little snake doodle to a hissing python. 'Cute but psycho,' sprawled itself across the pin, 'things even out like that!' 'I'll be nicer when you're smarter…' Scrawled lazily across Parvati's, while Daphne's declared, 'I had a dream where something ate you.' Lavender's simply proclaimed, 'Free criticism!'

Daphne grinned to herself as she saw the hall's reaction to her sartorial plan. She'd known it would show that they were a united front to their peers, one without any nasty infighting to exploit. A very important point to make with the politics of Slytherin to consider. Daphne had even gone so far as making the boys fall in line with her plan.

Thinking to dress the boys in solid black was a stroke of genius, she thought. Draco stood out like a study in chiaroscuro art, while Ron's red hair popped shockingly. Blaise she could put in anything and be amazed, but he personified dark beauty in all black. Seamus and Dean all but prowled in the dark clothing, wearing it much as they had their battle robes. By comparison, Theo was the picture of pureblood nobility. Black seemed to bring out the foreboding in Neville's eyes and the posture of a young pureblood lord with that. Harry, though, easily looked the cruelest. His eyes reminded her of the Killing Curse and he held himself much as he had in their old lives: a rebel general who had killed the Darkest Lord of the Age.

The buttons just would have cheapened the raw danger of them, Daphne had decided. The girls had needed a measure of whimsy. Something flirty and a little unhinged. In a world of put-together ladies with knives playing vapid in order to stab you properly, the only way to be different was to bring the knives bluntly to the forefront. The boys, though… they had needed to look sharp. It would be the only way to break them of their previous reputations.

The only fun allowance Daphne made herself was the hair. At three in the morning, when even Filtch slept, she had dragged the sleepy boys out of bed and spirted them to the third floor bathroom. Now, lowlights of emerald green shimmered in Harry's freshly trimmed locks, dragging his eyes to the forefront and making him look a little less like a buzz-kill. Daphne had used lengthening charms to bring Ron's red hair to his shoulders, killing the dorky homestyle cut he'd had, and layered it to frame his face. Dean and Seamus had both insisted on having color, so Daphne had gone with forest green and silver streaks, respectively. With Neville, she had streaked his fringe with black, side swept it, and gotten rid of that awful bowl cut with a close-crop. Blaise, Draco, and Theo, Merlin bless them, already knew how to wear their hair, so she had merely talked them into a little color. Silver for Draco, forest green for Blaise, and black for Theo. She had also banished Draco's hair gel, which had made them all laugh.

Looking around at the gobsmacked Great Hall, Daphne knew she had done right. She was exhausted but content. The knowledge that this style of dress was deeply popular in their time was reassuring, too. By next Monday, she felt confident that not only would her court be leading most of Slytherin, but be the 'cool kids' of Hogwarts, too.

Tilting her chin, Daphne took a deep breath and put on her coldest face. She felt a smirk forming. It was time to let the rabble admire her work and go green with envy.

She could barely wait.

They seemed to move as one, synchronized like soldiers at arms. There were murmurs as these first years walked through the Great Hall. A few students even kneeled in their seats to get a better look at them.

At the Slytherin table, Draco, Ron, and Susan guided their court to the section the fourth-year court usually presided over. Harry followed suit, head high and eyes deadly, and soon the rest had settled, too. The way that they acted so carelessly, so confidently, was an open challenge to any who tried to refute them.

The fourth year court, consisting of several people no one really cared much about, were currently dealing with Peeves and stink bombs. Safe to say, there would be no challengers once that got around.

This move made it quite clear to the older Slytherins who the powerhouses were among the first years. This court, they could see, was not to be messed with. Those defeated by them would be treated cruelly and sent straight to the bottom of the social ladder. Unless such a victim suddenly became the Dark Lord's heir, or Lucius Malfoy claimed to be their father and wanted sole custody, there would be no helping them.

As one, the elder courts of Slytherin decided they had more interesting—that is to say, less lethal—things to tarry with.

"So, Ron. Have you written to your parents yet and told them the news?" Susan asked, playing the role of first year.

"News?" Ron feigned confusion. "What news?"

Draco gave him a vaguely amused look, "That you are in Slytherin, perhaps?"

"Oh." Ron yawned. "I wrote this morning."

A few Slytherins appeared impressed. Not many thought that Ron would be so nonchalant about breaking centuries of tradition. This was the point at which many began to reassess his usefulness.

"You're not afraid of their reactions?" Neville posed, hiding a smile behind his hand.

Ron shook his head and grinned winningly. "Dad has nothing against Slytherins."

"What about your mum?" Harry teased.

Ron snickered meanly. "Now that reaction's going to be hilarious." Especially because Percy had assured him and the twins that their mother wouldn't be a problem for much longer.

"This is way too early to be getting up," Dean grumbled and reached for the salt, which would have gone into his tea if Seamus hadn't quickly switched it for the sugar. Dean gave him a thankful smile.

Seamus smiled back, though beyond appearances it was a touch sad. How weird, he thought, looking around, that none of them seemed to notice how weird it was that they were all sitting together in the Great Hall eating breakfast. A moment like this had never happened before in their past lives, yet nothing could feel more natural to Seamus than helping Dean through breakfast while Susan Bones, Ron Weasley, and Draco Malfoy put a plot into motion a couple seats ahead of him.

Seamus wrapped his hand around Dean's under the table, as though that might anchor him while his thoughts drifted. In their last reality most of them had lost contact with each other after Hogwarts. It was only once the Light Purges kicked up that they had all come together. Their first time in Hogwarts, they never would have been sharing breakfast like this. How absolutely weird that only in murder and death would they find out that they clicked so well together simply as friends, not just comrades.

Watching from afar, on the side where first years were supposed to sit, was Pansy Parkinson. In her eyes, this reality just wasn't fair at all. How on earth could the rankings in Slytherin already be decided? The Sorting was just last night! Furthermore, they were barely into the first day!

Pansy growled. Why hadn't her parents warned her that the hierarchy was decided so quickly? That she should start making connections with her first step on the train? Now she would have to make way for Susan Bones.

How could Susan Bones be first-year Princess? That was supposed to be Pansy's spot! And she couldn't even do anything about it. After the brutal show this morning with that sixth year, no one with a brain would challenge Susan. No, being held a Slytherin Princess was out of Pansy's reach, and if that was out of her reach, then so was the coveted title of Queen of Slytherin.

What made matters worse, the other girls seemed okay, even pleased, with this. As though it were a preordained fact! That just didn't happen! Her mother had told her that girls fought tooth, nail, hex, and curse to get the top ranking. But this…

Pansy screamed internally. Life just wasn't fair!

Millicent Bulstrode walked into the Great Hall unnoticed. She was a plump girl, with what people thought of as mean expression on her face. In reality, like most Slytherins, she just wasn't smiling. As she approached the Slytherin table, she wondered where she should sit.

There was an empty spot with Pansy, who Millicent had already heard teasing her behind her back, or… she could try to sit with Susan and her friends. The thought made Millicent deeply nervous, even if her face didn't show it. Millicent didn't care about who was popular or not. She just wanted more than one friend. Susan's lot had already made so many power-moves, though. Why would they accept her?

She thought back to how she had spent last night, listening in the dark as Pansy and Tracy Davis whispered about her where they thought she couldn't hear. No, Millicent decided, she couldn't try to be friends with them. Just the idea made her want to puke. She at least had to try to make nice with Susan's girls, then. Maybe they would give her a chance.

Steeling herself, Millicent walked forward. As she got closer, she fought the urge to turn tail and run. Would they mock her, she wondered? Openly laugh at her? She wasn't sure she could keep herself from decking them if that happened. Her father had always said that she had an issue with violence. He blamed the collection of Muggle video games she'd blackmailed him into buying for her when she was eight.

Biting her lip, Millicent walked up behind the girl with the little green bows in her hair.

A second passed before anyone noticed the girl standing either behind or in front of them. Draco, Ron, and Susan eyed her speculatively, as did most of the rest of Slytherin. Merlin knew not many of them would have had the guts to approach the new first years after their recent displays.

Dean raised an eyebrow, having recognized her vaguely as the girl who would one day put Hermione Granger in a headlock. Millicent Bulstrode, wasn't it?

Millicent smiled. "May I sit with you?"

"Sure," Susan said, after meeting eyes briefly with her other court members. She gave a sweet smile. "Guys, make room."

Millicent resisted the urge to grin and sat down next to one of the boys. Dean Thomas, she thought? Did letting her sit with them mean she could call them by their first names? She had no idea. On her other side was Parvati Patil. That name had stuck, as Millicent's mother worked at the firm that Mr. Patil ran as managing partner.

Fixing her shoulders straighter, she smiled at the court. "I'm Millicent," she offered in what she hoped was an appropriately friendly voice.

Harry Potter, the bloody Boy Who Lived, chuckled and introduced himself. Everyone else followed.

Millicent Bulstrode… from what Harry could remember, she had been killed shortly after the War. She had worked private security for Lucius Malfoy and been shot down trying to defend Remus from the hunters. Harry cleared his throat to force away the memories. "So," he started, "Millicent, excited about first classes?"

The conversation turned to each first year bragging about what they already knew, just like normal first years would, and then about their likes and hobbies. Ron was ecstatic to find out that Millicent liked the Chudley Cannons and eagerly began a conversation about them with her.

After that, the week went on pretty much the same as it had the first time around. They had to study the night skies through their telescopes every Wednesday at midnight and learn the names of different stars and the movements of the planets. Three times a week they went out to the greenhouses behind the castle to study herbology with Professor Sprout. Easily the most boring class was still history. Unsurprising, that. History of Magic probably hadn't even changed in the original timeline—it was taught by a ghost, after all. The only interesting bit was listening to Millicent's surprisingly sarcastic comments. She was apparently something of a history buff and knew a whole whack of hilarious facts about various rulers. That, or she was a fabulous liar. No one was very sure yet.

Professor Flitwick once more jumped at the start of their first class when he reached Harry's name on the roll call. However, by the end of his class, he addressed the vengeful first years about how he believed they had quite the natural talent for Charms. He also invited them to join a more advanced class—either the second or third, he hadn't decided which was best yet.

Professor McGonagall was the same as ever. She was still strict and clever, and she gave them a talking-to the moment they sat down in her first class. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex and dangerous magic you will learn at Hogwarts," Professor McGonagall said. "Anyone messing around in my class will leave and not come back. You have been warned."

Then she changed her desk into a pig and back again. The class was all very impressed or faked being so. However, much of that enthusiasm was curbed when McGonagall began writing long complicated notes on the board. "You would not have been able to do such an advanced form of magic. No one ever has." McGonagall said primly before continuing to write notes.

Parvati raised her hand. "I was wondering if, before we began the lesson, we would have a chance to show you how much we already know?" Parvati glanced at her sister, Padma, out of the corner of her eye. It was time for a little payback.

Hermione Granger looked positively rapturous at the thought. She was there with the first year Ravenclaws because there were no other Gryffindor first years.

"I don't think that is—"

"Oh, please, Professor!" Hermione squeaked happily. "I have been studying all summer and I really want you to see what I can do."

Minerva smiled at the overzealous girl, remembering how she had once been much like that herself. Also, Hermione was a Gryffindor! If anyone needed a student to rub in Severus' face, it was Minerva. He had been bragging about getting Harry Potter, Susan Bones, and all of the Weasleys into his House since they were sorted. Severus had even gone as far as to delcare that "If Harry Potter is in Slytherin, there can't be an ounce of his father in him."

Smug bastard, she thought, insulted on poor James Potter's behalf. If she had thought it would have done any good, she would have had Mr. Potter resorted right there and then.

"Very well," she said imperiously. "Students, stand and move to the left side of the classroom." The students quickly followed her command. McGonagall sent the desks to the right side of the classroom and then walked behind her desk, from which she pulled a box of bricks from an expanded drawer. She set one on her desktop. "You all will stand in a line and, house by house, attempt to turn this brick into a stuffed animal. Do not—I repeat, do not—feel bad about yourself should you not be able to accomplish this task. This is what the third-years are learning."

Minerva turned to the brick she'd placed on her desk and performed the spell needed to transfigure the brick into a stuffed animal. An orange tabby cat took the brick's place. Minerva nodded to the students as they clapped. "Ravenclaws first!" she declared.

The best the Ravenclaws could do was get the brick to sprout fur, which she gave them a few points for. One boy accidentally made it float.

Then it was Hermione Granger's turn. Before beginning, she had McGonagall show the entire class again the wand-movements and the spell. Much to McGonagall's pleasure, the brick became softer and plushier after she was done. Hermione beamed with joy when she was praised and awarded five points.

Last but hardly least, it was the Slytherins' turn. To save time, Minerva set another four bricks on her desk and had the Slytherins come up in groups. Pansy Parkinson failed miserably, as did Crabbe and Goyle, while Tracy Davis managed to make the brick grow fur. Millicent Bulstrode got the brick to sprout stuffed-animal wings, and she was awarded five points for it.

Ron Weasley, dear Harry, and Neville Longbottom went next. The three pointed their wands at each of their own bricks and, one by one, shouted: "Lutanis Fanfarous!" By the end of the spell, in the bricks' place sat three toys: a blue dragon, a grey wolf, and a purple fox.

Minerva's jaw dropped. She instantly appeared next to the three. "Mr. Potter, Mr. Longbottom, Mr. Weasley, please move back while I examine your transfiguration."

They did as they were told. Minerva prodded the stuffed animals with her wand and when she was done, she turned around and beamed at them. "Twenty-five points to Slytherin! For a remarkable job, indeed." Hermione Granger huffed in the background.

Minerva went back behind her desk. Was she a little annoyed to give so many points to Severus's first years? Yes. But, frankly, in her book any youth doing such remarkable magic deserved to be rewarded.

Draco Malfoy, Dean Thomas, and Theodore Nott went next. With a shout of the spell, there were no longer bricks on the table. Instead, a gold centaur, a green spider (you could hear Mr. Weasley shout "Oi!" in the background), and a black Cerberus stood in their place. Stunned, Minerva tested the stuffed animals again and again awarded Slytherin twenty-five points.

The pattern continued with Seamus Finnigan, Blaise Zabini, and Parvati Patil, who produced a yellow koala bear, a blue tiger, and a silver Pegasus. They were rewarded with another twenty-five points.

Miss Patil shot her twin a superior look. The other Miss Patil scowled back at her.

Lavender Brown, Daphne Greengrass, and Susan Bones finished off the Slytherins' show with a pink lion, a lilac Sphinx, and a green Hippogriff. They were also awarded twenty-five points.

Minerva applauded them, absolutely stunned by their show of talent. If she hadn't examined the toys herself, she would have thought she was being pranked. "Well done! Well done, indeed—"

Neville raised his hand, "Professor, may we keep them?"

Minerva nodded, "Yes, but keep them out of sight until the class ends. I believe you, Mr. Longbottom, had the purple fox?" She moved to grab the toy and couldn't believe her eyes when it growled at her. As though in competition, the other toys then leapt off the desk (or, in the cases of dragon and the Pegasus, flew) and made their way toward their owners.

Minerva stood gaping for a moment before sighing, "Another twenty-five points to Slytherin, for live transfigurations." She shook her head, knowing full-well that she would never hear the end of it from Severus. Nearly all of his first year snakes were prodigies. It just wasn't fair!

She felt a small tug on her sleeve and looked down to see both the stuffed centaur and the sphinx still there. Much to her surprise, the sphinx then began to speak: "If you wish to pick me up, you must answer my riddle."

It talks! McGonagall shook her head. She couldn't believe this. "No riddles," she snapped. "It's time for class to continue."

"And how would you know what time it is?" The centaur had a superior look on his face as he eyed the teacher. "I read the stars better than all! It will be I who tell you what time it is!"

Minerva nearly set the blasted thing on fire. "Miss Bones, Mr. Malfoy! Please come and collect your toys, immediately."

Susan and Draco quickly picked up their toys and then went back to stand among the other first-years. Most of them were either chuckling or gazing the toys in amazement.

With a swish of the Professor's wand, the desks and the remaining bricks were back where they started. The first years took their seats and Minerva went back to the board.

When she turned around, she saw various foot-tall stuffed animals trying to escape their owners. The fluffy centaur was criticizing Mr. Malfoy, whose eye had already begun to twitch in response. Even though she would never hear the end of it from Severus about his little snakes, Minerva smiled.

Then original lesson continued. After taking a lot of complicated notes, they were each given a match and were told to try and turn it into a needle. Before Minerva had time to sit in her seat, there were twelve hands in the air.

Minerva didn't have to call on the stuffed-animal possessing students to know they were done. She quickly checked them and after seeing perfect needles and awarding each student one point, she then allowed the students to play silently with their toys.

While McGonagall had favored Hermione Granger the first time around because she was the best student at her subject, this time Hermione barely got her notice. By the end of the lesson, compared to Susan Bones or Ron Weasley, or even little Neville Longbottom, or any of the other prodigal first years, Hermione Granger was barely better than a squib.

At the back of the classroom, Hermione growled into her arms. It just wasn't fair!

Hello, Darlings! Sorry I don't have much time but musical theater is kicking my ass right now. Just know that you're all amazing and wonderful and thank you so much! If I didn't get to answering your review it was because I only had an hour to get this posted! Also, please note this story has been edited recently (8/13/2022) so that's why some things might look a little different.

Sincerely,

BlackRoseGirl666