Chapter 17

September 1, 1938

Harry felt the exact instant when the train began to decelerate. The faint vibrations from beneath his feet told of resistance, and momentum caused him to pitch forward enough to get a better view of the Exploding Snap game that Augustus and Dantanian still hadn't finished. Harry's fingers dug into Tom's arm, Tom humming under his breath in acknowledgement.

"I don't understand why you keep winning," Augustus complained. "You've been holding back on me all these years, Rosier, or what?"

Dantanian—should Harry refer to them by last name as everyone seemed to be so fond of doing?—gave a small smile, his peach-coloured magic twisting around in lazy spirals that reminded Harry of Tom's frequent, smug satisfaction. Dantanian was a strange one, Harry decided. Most people tended to have magic of one colour, maybe two, if the magic Harry had glimpsed at King's Cross had been any indication. Dantanian had lavender, peach, and red magic and unlike Harry and Tom's magic, it wasn't layered in the slightest. While Harry and Tom's blue magic was quite definitely hidden by strands of green and gold, Dantanian's was a chaotic mess that seemed to operate with little rhyme or reason. The only advantage, Harry thought, was that Dantanian's magic was so expressive that Harry could read his emotions without needing years of familiarity.

"We're almost at the station," Lenus said, polishing off the last of his delicious-smelling Pumpkin Pasty. Harry was quite jealous; Tom hadn't bought them a single thing.

Flavian began vibrating in his seat, his sunshine yellow magic curling in on itself. "I wonder how we're to be Sorted…I tried asking my father, you know, but he didn't tell me a single thing. Blasted traditions."

"Careful, Avery," Abraxas drawled, "or one might get the impression that you're as reverent of Wizarding tradition as a common Mudblood." Abraxas glanced in Harry's direction and Harry fought the urge to stiffen, instead taking support in the solidity of Tom's arm.

Flavian huffed, crossing his arms. "Abraxas, you know what I meant."

"We're guaranteed to be in Slytherin, the house renowned for cunning," Lenus said before grinning. "I don't know about you, though."

Next to Harry, Tom gave a low sigh that covered the slight whisper of Parseltongue. "How many times can they conceivably redirect the topic toward this Sorting?"

"As many times as Avery makes his insecurities known. Could potentially occur forever," Harry hissed back as he stood up.

Tom stood up as well. "I believe we will take our leave; we left our things back in another carriage. It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance." Harry fought the urge to scoff at the formal tone, ending up with a slight grimace instead of his intended neutral facial expression. Tom's magic flickered and a strand of gold stroked across Harry's face in reprisal.

Abraxas inclined his head, as did Lenus. Flavian gave a cheery wave. "Hopefully we'll see you with us later!"

Harry followed Tom out the door, weaving through the sudden crowd of students that began to gravitate back to their compartments in anticipation for their upcoming arrival. The train was much slower now, vibrating beneath Harry's feet as the heavy machinery clanked together with the deceleration.

They reached their compartment a few minutes later, the trunks untouched and sentry magic pristine. Harry looked at Tom. "Do we lug these out?"

Tom looked down at the trunks with a contemplative mien. "I'm not sure. Give me a second," he said, sliding open their door and poking his head out. The train gave a last rumble before it slowed to a smooth stop. A few moments later, Tom ducked back inside, turning to Harry. "It looks like everyone is just leaving their things. Maybe there's a porter?"

"Guess so," Harry said, picking apart the sentry magic with his thumb and forefinger. The spell fell apart into meaningless coils, which Harry lifted and threw at Tom. The magic splashed against his front but reformed into the gold dynamic loops and spirals that littered wild around Tom's form. The second sentry spell, Harry picked apart and threw onto his arm, where his magic slipped back into his being as if it had never left.

The floor of the compartment buzzed as tens of feet began pounding down the hallway outside of their door. Harry checked the shield he held over Tom to dull his senses and pronounced it adequate with a nod of his head. "Let's go?"

Tom's magic spun in excited flurries. "We're finally here."

The walk out of the train could not have taken any longer than half an hour, but it felt like an eternity of slowly dragging seconds, passing by with reluctance as if straining to keep Harry and Tom away from their future. Tom's hands must have clenched into fists so many times that permanent indents would be worn into his palms, Harry thought with fondness. Tom liked to be in control and even such a minor lack was unforgivable in his impatience. Finally, they stepped out of the train into a growing throng of magic, buzzing with activity and spiralling emotions. It was like a flowering meadow, Harry thought, with splashes of extraordinary colour lighting up the otherwise dark and faded shades of magic.

"What does it smell like?" Harry whispered, loosening his hold on the shield. Tom shuddered before taking a deep, deep breath and holding it in with an intense expression on his face, as if sampling every single note of taste and smell possible.

"I can't even describe it, Dove," Tom said as Harry tightened the woven coils of the shield. "So many different scents, some pleasant, some disgusting all together in a huge mess. It's difficult to pick out any one flavour. What does it look like?"

"Like…like a fairy meadow from the stories. It's like I'm seeing flowers again."

"Good," Tom said with a sigh as Harry tangled his fingers in Tom's sleeve.

The crowd was abuzz with conversation, fading in and out of Harry's concentration. Snatches of voices—"…I heard he's handsome…"—and whispers—"…what house do you think you'll be in?"—danced upon the wind, which cut into Harry's cheeks with a surprising, refreshing chill. Just as Harry was about to turn to Tom and ask him what they were to do now, a voice cut through the air.

"Ladies and gentleman, welcome to Hogwarts! First years, move over to the path on the left. Upperclassmen, please make your way to the right. Four to a carriage, please!"

Harry searched for the source of the voice in the crowd, but couldn't see anyone. Tom pulled him along to the left, leaving him standing with a huge group of students, numbering definitely over a hundred; maybe twice that. A sea of coloured lights—for that was what they were, in this darkness—moved away until they were just pinpricks, near dots of light that shone an ethereal, beckoning silver.

"What's that, there?" Harry asked, motioning in the other students' direction. "Looks silver, but not human silver. The shapes are wrong, I think, and it doesn't look quite right."

Tom's breath caught in his throat, his magic flaring in surprise. His eyes darted down to Harry before fixing again upon the distant sight. "They're…horses that look like they are dead. Skeletal, with wings? And I can't see too many details, but there's something wrong with them…"

"Is it a magical animal?" Harry asked, forcing himself to look away. That silver magic looked too friendly, and—dare he say it—wrong. Unnatural.

"Likely." Tom was about to say something else before the same voice that directed them earlier cut in.

"Alright, first years! Follow me. Watch your step upon the path, please; the ground is uneven. We'll be taking an alternative route to Hogwarts; you'll see the castle in a minute."

Harry's vision sharpened as he noted something peculiar in front of him. It was magic, packed tightly into a furious ball, roiling inside as if fighting against invisible confines. It seemed free-floating; unlike most of the magic that Harry had seen, it was neither a spell nor a person. The voice came directly from it.

"My name is Jacob Filch and I am the caretaker of Hogwarts. Come along, come along; you don't want to be late to the feast."

Harry followed behind Tom as they moved forward onto the path. It felt rocky and springy, as if it was covered with some low-growing moss or grass. Harry watched Tom's feet as he navigated a specific stretch of the path with exaggerated motions and attempted to replicate Tom's footsteps as best as he could. He tripped up a little bit on a stretch of root, but otherwise exited the path unharmed. Behind him, Harry could hear a number of hisses and yelps as the rest of the students forgot to watch their step in their excitement. He grinned, tugging on Tom's sleeve. Tom's magic curled around his fingers in acknowledgement.

Harry stepped forward and gasped as they rounded what must have been a copse of trees. What else could have held away the intense brilliance of the sight before him?

It was a tapestry in three dimensions. A thin, yet intricate rainbow net was woven in a perfect sphere stretching far into the air and the woods on either side of the castle. The castle itself was a study in colour, with soaring, sky-scraping towers of burgundy, brown and gold. Some were blue, green, and netted with purple that glittered as if reflecting sunlight that Harry could not see. Tall mountains stood like eternal sentries, cradling the castle in protective arms. The body of the castle was predominantly pale grey and light blue, although Harry could see hints of red decorating the edges like latticework. The base of the castle was again blue, green and crystal purple, seeming to stretch deep into the ground itself.

Each of the patches of colour seeped into one cohesive whole, somehow managing to create smooth transitions despite the overwhelming differences in colour. Despite the chaos, Harry could tell that the all of the magic was interwoven in perfect symbiosis for a unified goal.

To teach, to grow, and to protect. It was in the very air that Harry was breathing in, the air that swept through the rainbow net protecting the whole valley only to be caught in his lungs.

Tom hissed next to him. Harry turned, only to see Tom's knees weaken. He grabbed Tom, worried. So much magic…it was excellent for him, but detrimental to Tom. Harry didn't delay; he hugged Tom and threw out a sheet of pure magic around them in a bubble, making it thicker than he had ever had to before. When Harry opened his eyes, he found that he could barely see any other magic through the dense layer of celadon and gold he'd erected.

Tom hugged Harry tighter for a moment before straightening and detaching his arms. He rubbed at his arms, his magic agitated. "I can't. I can't go there."

"Yes, you can. I don't think anyone noticed your moment. I'll keep blocking until you think you can handle more. Is it…is it really that bad?"

"Yes," Tom said, shaking his head. "It's…nothing like what I had imagined. I can't describe it at all. It just hit me like a train."


"Alright, everyone. Four to a boat. I recommend you don't horse around too much; we haven't fed the Giant Squid today!"

Tom wanted to destroy Mr. Cheery Jacob Filch. Sock him right in the noggin and see how well he fared when thrown into the lake with the giant monster squid.

His head was hurting a lot. A lot. Very much. A lot. Tom had never had a headache of this magnitude, but then again, he'd never been to Hogwarts. It was like getting hit by a freight train rocketing forward sixty kilometres an hour. He'd walked right into it.

He'd noticed the smell of curious magic back at the train station, and had felt it get stronger as they walked down the path. For some reason, he had made the utter lapse of failing to realize what smelling magic from such a distance through Harry's shield might mean. His range with normal magic was only twenty meters, without Harry's shield. He smelt this magic from a distance much farther away. Much farther. They'd gotten closer and when they'd rounded the bend, the full majesty of Hogwarts lighting up the sky before them with soaring lights and golden stone, Harry's shield had dropped as he stared open-mouthed at the castle.

It had to have been a sight for Harry, but that brief lapse in the shield…his nose, mouth, brain were invaded with a powerful and thick scent-taste-scent that was a poisonous, choking miasma.

Tom breathed in and out, revelling in the familiar wintery ice-and-pine that was Harry. It was almost like being back in London, where the only magic Tom could sense was Harry's. But it was still better than London, as the scent of flowers drifted past his senses. Preferable over London's grime and muck. Preferable over the orphanage.

Tom sat down in one of the boats in a daze, snapping out of his mental exhaustion long enough to help Harry into the unstable, tiny boat. Two unfamiliar students entered the boat with them as the horde of students distributed itself into random groups. After a few minutes of in-fighting that Tom could see from a distance, Mr. Filch grinned and called out, "Ahead we go!"

Tom only noticed that they'd started moving because of his sight, not because of any motion beneath him. The boats glided forward across the lake in unison, as if pulled by some steady, mechanical force across a frictionless surface. Harry's eyes were wide with excitement as he stared ahead of the boat. Night was falling, the summer sunlight slipping below the hills behind them. The absence of any warmth seemed to make Harry's eyes glow brighter.

Tom nudged Harry, and leaned closer until his mouth was right beside his ear. "…Can you loosen your shield just a little bit? I want to know what Hogwarts tastes like."

Harry nodded without tearing his gaze off the golden castle that was growing bigger by the second. Scents flooded into Tom's nose, deceptively weak. There were a million tastes just below Tom's awareness in this muted form, but four distinct tastes really stood out. Tom had a fondness for growing things and had gardened as a hobby for some time. He recognized those scent-taste-scents. Sage and grassy dandelion mixed, and a little fainter he could detect the subtle scents of thyme and an odd sweet and earthy scent he thought could be burdock. Four scents… could they be the magics of the Founders, left in the castle over a millennium despite them being long since gone?

Tom shook his head. He was being quite fanciful; in his contemplation, he'd completely missed the smooth arrival of the boats onto a pebbled shore. He climbed out after Harry, standing next to him among the throng of excited and nervous students. Mr. Filch climbed out of the last boat to run aground, pushing through the crowd and walking off into darkness. After a few seconds of hesitation, the crowd moved after him, speaking in quiet whispers.

"What does it smell like, the castle?" Harry's low hiss was almost lost in the scrape of pebble against pebble and the soft swish of thick cloth.

Tom grabbed Harry's hand as they began to ascend narrow stairs with perilous speed, pushed ahead by unknown faces. There was no rail; Tom wondered what would be done if one of them fell off into the shadows? If one of them died? "It smells like a garden," Tom said after collecting his thoughts. "Not a flower garden, but an herb garden. I can definitely pick out sage and dandelion, and perhaps thyme. There's also a smell I'm not very familiar with that I think might be burdock."

"Edible herbs. That's weird…you would think the Founders would be strong, powerful, and overwhelming, almost."

Tom laughed under his breath. "Even something subtle can be overwhelming, Dove."

The stairs ended, the ground beneath their feet now marbled stone, worn so smooth that the flaming torches on the walls also danced along the ground. All two-hundred or so students congregated in a huge circle around Tom and Harry, with Mr. Filch disappearing behind a familiar figure dressed in lime green and purple robes.

"In a few moments, we'll be entering the Entrance Hall, from which we will make our way into the Great Hall. Before we can all adjourn to the delightful feast that awaits us, you will be sorted into one of four different houses: either Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or Slytherin. Your house will act as your family, your actions reflecting on the house as a whole. You do well, you gain house points; you break any rules and your houses lose points. The house with the most points by the end of the year will win the House Cup, a great honour. However, it's encouraged that you make friends outside of your houses as well!" Professor Dumbledore's eyes twinkled.

Mr. Filch returned and tapped Professor Dumbledore upon the shoulder. Professor Dumbledore smiled. "The Sorting Ceremony will now begin!"

He turned and began walking along the corridor, Tom and Harry following behind, as well as the horde of other first-years. They walked through a ginormous hall, so tall that Tom couldn't detect the moment when the walls became the ceiling before stopping at a huge pair of wooden doors that inched open with a terrific groan. As the doors opened fully, Tom was treated to the sight of another immense hall. The ceiling was a starry sky, and candles floated above the heads of the students with nary a fear for dripping wax. Four large tables stretched most of the way down the room toward a perpendicular table that was raised on a slight dais. In front of the dais, a small three-legged stool held up the rattiest hat that Tom had ever seen.

Harry's hand sought Tom's, who gripped it firmly. "This is it," Harry breathed. "This is the beginning."

"Yes, it is."


There was so much magic that Harry did not know where to look. Should he focus on the ceiling, the complex and infinite spirals and weaves that the magic displayed? Should he look at the thousand and more of students, glowing a rainbow of colours that danced in the air above them like streamers from the sheer volume of their anticipation? Should he attempt to look at what looked to be a mere hat that blazed with the brilliance of a thousand suns?

Professor Dumbledore strode ahead of the throng, a study in elegance with magic of ivory and pale yellow, shot through with twists of pale, almost-white green. He strode up to the hat just as a man stood up from the centre place of honour on the high desk.

"Welcome, new students! Before we begin the Sorting Ceremony, I wish to remind all of you to stay out of the Forbidden Forest – it is named so for a reason! Thank you." The man sat down.

Professor Dumbledore cleared his throat. "When your name is called, come forth and sit on the stool. I will place the Sorting Hat on your head to determine the house you will be staying in."

Tom's mouth fell open in disbelief. "Is that the famed historical Sorting Ceremony? Is that it? A mangy old hat?"

Harry laughed, leaning in. "It has so much magic it looks like a miniature sun. Calm down, Kit; you're so nervous it's hilarious. We're supposed to be acting cool and confident, remember?"

"Don't call me that…"

"Flavian Avery!" Professor Dumbledore's voice rang across the hall, the background noise falling down to a low hum. Flavian strode forth, magic curling in discomfort. His stride did not betray his obvious mental agitation. He sat down on top of the stool, Professor Dumbledore plopping the hat onto his head. After about half a minute, the hat jerked and a voice broke the silence.

"Slytherin!"

The Sorting Ceremony began in earnest, then. Harry could hear a few people in the tables closest to them betting on the house to be called, whispering about family affiliations and comments such as "Doesn't he look like such a wimp? I'm betting Hufflepuff." First-years were called up with great speed, most of them needing less than fifteen seconds to have their house determined by the strange hat. A few outliers took up to a minute, but it seemed no time at all before Harry's fake name was called.

"Harry Riddle!"

Harry felt Tom squeeze his hands once before letting go, a whisper of Parseltongue reaching his ear. "Remember, try for Slytherin…"

The walk to the Sorting Hat was rather long, as the Great Hall was made big enough to impress. To Harry, however, it felt too short. He cautiously made his way up a few steps and sat down on the stool silhouetted by the brilliant magic of the hat. It was dropped on his head a moment later, slipping down his face.

A curious, floaty feeling entered Harry's head and a voice Harry had never heard before gasped in shock.

This cannot be!

"What?" Harry whispered into the cloth of the hat.

This should never have happened. The safeguards…how?

"What are you talking about?" Harry said, frowning.

Oh Merlin. Boy, think your speech! I can't imagine what would happen if someone found out. Do you have a—yes, of course you do. Of course. It all went wrong at once, didn't it? A thousand years it lasted, but it had to break now, of all times.

What are you talking about? Harry thought.

A horrible tragedy, the hat replied. In his head. I guess I will have to sort you; at least someone's kept an attentive eye on the situation.

A talking hat. Can you tell me about it? If it's something dangerous, I deserve to know.

Telling you would do you little favours…oh, it looks like you've been warned already. Pretend that your vision problem means your vision fluctuates at an alarming rate that can't be matched by magical glasses. I'll inform Professor Dumbledore so he can inform the school nurse.

Thank you? Harry thought. You're really smart for a hat.

I'm more than a hat, boy; surely you've seen that? In any case. Sorting. You'd made a fantastic Hufflepuff, as would your Sensor, if you didn't hold such loyalty exclusively for each other. Both quite brilliant; Ravenclaw would work…

Tom? He's a Sensor?

Yes.

Why are you sorting us together? I thought-

It's because he's your Sensor. Gryffindor would be out of the question; even if you're quite predisposed to it, it's not a good fit for your Tom at all. It's down between Ravenclaw and Slytherin for you two. In one house, you'd be allowed to experiment with magic to your heart's desire, in the other, you'd learn to survive…

Slytherin, please!

Decided it already, have you? Unusual choice for one of your lot, in particular.

Meaning what? Harry tried to convey a suspicious look using thought alone.

Meaning nothing. I've spoken too much already; a side effect of no good conversation from the heads of most of these first-years. Gives me the tendency to ramble. Alright, so it'll be-

"Slytherin!" the hat vibrated on Harry's head with the force of its shout. The hat was lifted off and Harry blinked as his eyes adjusted after such close exposure to the magic-dense hat. Harry couldn't see anyone; he had eyes only for Tom. The one with the magic of blue, pale green, and shimmering gold that was the twin of his own.

Gold curled in approval. Harry ducked his head a little bit and smiled as he headed to the table where all of the previous (familiar) Slytherin students went. He recognized the sunshine yellow and pink of Flavian's magic, and slipped into place beside him across from Abraxas and Lenus.

"Tom Riddle!"

Harry watched as Tom sat down on the stool, hat dropped over his face. Unlike with Harry, the hat only stayed on for five seconds before blurting out, "Slytherin!" Tom handed off the hat to Professor Dumbledore and strode over to the Slytherin table, sitting down on Harry's other side. He leant in, magic flickering with subtle agitation. "Dove, why'd the hat tell me that he'd sorted me already and to ask you?"

"Later," Harry breathed before turning to Flavian. "I guess there was no need for worry, huh?"

Flavian ducked his chin, pink magic spiralling in embarrassment. "I guess not. But wow, you're both in Slytherin!"

"Quite a surprise," Lenus said, turning to Abraxas and holding out his hand. Abraxas grumbled and deposited clinking coins into Lenus's hand.

"You were betting? On what?" Dantanian said, sitting down next to Abraxas. "I would've wanted to participate."

"On whether the Riddles would become Slytherins," Abraxas said. "I lost."

"Oh, how much?" Augustus asked, sliding closer from where he was chatting with one of the new Slytherin girls.

Lenus gave a smirk so wide that Harry could see it on his magic. He held out his hand over the table and uncurled his fingers.

"Oh, Malfoy, I didn't know you were a betting man," Flavian said, reaching out and touching the coins before looking up with an obvious grin. "What would your father say?"

"Three galleons," Tom whispered into Harry's ear. Harry's eyes widened. Three galleons was quite a significant sum. How rich were his new classmates?

"My father won't hear of this," Abraxas said, voice stiffening and back straightening.

Flavian patted Abraxas on the back. "It's alright, I won't tell." He looked up at the head table. "How long do you think it'll take to finish the sorting? It's been forever already."

"It'll be over in about ten minutes, I'd say," Tom said, looking at his nails.

Flavian stared at Tom before pushing the plate in front of him away with one finger and slumping to the table, arms over his head. "Why, oh Merlin why?" he cried.

Lenus leaned forward across the table and bopped Flavian on the head. "Get up, you disgrace!"

Flavian whined, shifting his arms until his head was more covered. "I came to school to escape my parent's policing, Lenus!"

Flavian yelped as Lenus's hand descended upon him again. "It's Nott to you in public!"

"Oh chill," Augustus said, slumping. His even royal purple magic twinkled in amusement, threads of ice-blue slipping out to create a dazzling display of movement. Harry's eyes widened as he tried to follow the movement of the dancing ice-blue magic as it slipped out of sight.

Something pinched his arm. Harry jerked as he came out of what he recognized to be a short trance. He looked at Tom with a sheepish expression. He had a tendency to get lost in dances of magic; after so long, he was safe from his own magic and that of Tom's, but he sometimes got lost when confronted with magic that he had never seen before.

Harry spent the next few minutes studious in his examination of his shield around Tom and his hands, unwilling to lapse again. Tom had explained his plans rather well; they were no better than Mudbloods, whatever their parentage might be, so they had to show that they deserved respect. From their trip in the train compartment, Tom had identified Lenus and Abraxas as the ones that were the most important to win over. It was better to be thought quiet than a fool with a penchant for staring off in random directions.

The last student was sorted into Hufflepuff as the headmaster stood up. Harry took the chance to look over his silver-orange-green magic, which was displaying an unusual level of cheerfulness that Harry had yet only seen in Flavian.

"Morgana's tits, he's ancient," Augustus said. "I know Father said that he was over 300 years old but I thought he was joking."

The headmaster cleared his throat before speaking. "Welcome, students new and old! We begin another great school year. Now that we've all been sorted, dinner awaits!" He snapped his fingers, a tendril of magic shooting down into the ground, and a few seconds later, the table in front of Harry whirled with chocolate-brown magic that moved in curious jagged shapes.

Tom started. He whispered into Harry's ear, "It smells like warmth. Like a fireplace."

"Chocolate brown," Harry breathed, a myriad of smells registering. He could smell meat, potatoes, and warm baked bread. He couldn't just pick out one scent; they saturated the air with promises of feasts and full meals every day. No more gruel, no more stealing candied peanuts from street peddlers. No more dandelion salad, picked as a chore in the nearby park and eaten bare without oil or salt. No more fighting with the Mrs. Cole who wanted to requisition Tom's garden for one good meal, as if anything would be left after feeding an overfull orphanage. Harry was at Hogwarts now, the place he'd been waiting for his whole life. The place that he'd heard in bedtime stories; the place that he'd told Tom about that formed his dreams.

Harry turned to Tom. "What's for dinner?"


Tom could swear that he'd tried every single thing on the table within reach. He wasn't prone to indulgence—even if given the rare chance—but seeing so much delicious food, piled so high on the plates that it looked in danger of falling…it took Tom a ridiculous amount of self-control to moderate his eating habits. The others around him were eating at a slow pace, with the exception of Avery, and did not seem to be overwhelmed by the quantity or quality. Tom instead took the smallest portions from everything, and tried his hardest to keep himself from rushing.

Next to him, Harry was methodically making his way through a generous helping of bangers and mash that Tom had piled onto his plate in earnest. The table conversation was limited; despite the impeccable manners everyone seemed to have ingrained, everyone's attention was fixed upon the food.

The icy scent of Harry's magic danced as a secondary flavour to whatever Tom put into his mouth. Just as Tom was finishing his plateful, a boy and a girl walked up to their section of the table. The girl stepped forward.

"My name is Alocasia Sykes and I am one of the fifth year prefects. This," she said, motioning to the boy, "is Arran Clyde. We'll show you to the Slytherin quarters."

"Follow us," Clyde said before turning and walking away.

There was a lot of scrambling as the new students stood up and fumbled with their robes. Tom pulled Harry along behind him as he pushed to get in the front of the group of fifty or so students. The prefects were talking.

"…in the dungeons. Lots of the other houses think we have it bad but they haven't seen our rooms. Everything's been done to make living down there pretty good. We get a lot of pureblood heirs, you see."

"Try not to get lost at this intersection…"

Tom stored their words away for perusal later; he was not going to let himself and Harry get lost. They walked along a long series of twists and turns, finally stopping as a group in front of an expanse of stone wall. It seemed unremarkable if not for the strong scent of sage coming from it.

"This is the location of the Slytherin dorms," Sykes said. "The password changes every fortnight and can be found on the noticeboard; the current one is pineapple, a favourite of our Head of House, Professor Slughorn."

The section of wall changed, sliding into itself to reveal a dark passageway. Tom and Harry walked in along with the rest, congregating in the middle of a ginormous room. The ceiling of the room and one whole wall of the room were windows that opened onto dark water. Numerous torches and fireplaces were scattered all over the room, giving the whole room a warm and fiery cast. A variety of intricate tables, couches, and chairs were spread in small groups near each of the many fireplaces. In the centre of the room, a massive chandelier hung from the glass ceiling, a creation of crystal, iron, and minute candles. Two doorways, next to each other, were on the far side of the room.

Clyde spoke again. "This is the Slytherin Common Room. This is your home away from home; you are now in Slytherin house and are expected to uphold Slytherin ideals. Be cunning and wily; have ambition. You can come to any of the prefects for help settling in, but be aware that everything in Slytherin has a price, if not an immediate one."

Sykes gave a vicious smile before standing on her toes and calling out. "Professor Slughorn, we're here!"

A man of impressive girth walked forward, dressed in robes decorated with intricate embroidery. The prefects stood to the side as he assumed their place.

"I am Professor Slughorn and I am your Head of House. This means that you are all my ultimate responsibility. I expect behaviour from each of you befitting your house. Feel free to come to me for help at any time though; as a whole, Slytherin believes in a united front. Keep any disagreements and drama inside the walls of this room, not any farther. I will hold a private, individual chat with each of you; I like to get to know my students! The list of times will be distributed later. My office is near the Potions classroom, which is located two turns right, going back from the way you came."

Clyde stepped forward again and pointed to the two doorways. "Boys on the left, girls on the right. Off with you! Your trunks are already inside."

Professor Slughorn left and the prefects stood off to the side as the first-year students moved toward the doorways. Tom and Harry were one of the first few in the boys' doorways, walking down a set of steps until they were faced with a branching corridor. An old, iron sign proclaimed the first branch as the seventh year dorms. They walked on; the second branching hallway was for the sixth years. Tom and Harry walked all the way to the end, where the hallway ended in four doors. On each of the iron nameplates lay six names.

Abraxas Malfoy
Augustus Mulciber
Lenus Nott
Tom Riddle
Harry Riddle
Dantanian Rosier

It appeared that the dorms were separated by alphabetical order. Tom scanned the other nameplates, seeing Avery's name on a further room. Curiosity satisfied, Tom walked into the room, spotting his trunk on the bed right next to an underwater window. Right next to his bed was Harry's. Tom was grateful that their beds were far from the doorway. Tom walked up to his bed, plopping on top of it and almost letting out a groan at how comfortable it was. Next to him, Harry flopped onto his bed as well, throwing his arms over his head.

"This is amazing, Kit!" Harry cheered, rolling over to face Tom. His green eyes were glowing with happiness as well as their normal unearthly light in the dimness of their room.

"Avery is in a different dorm room," Tom had to say, watching as Harry's face fell a tiny bit. "Alphabetical order, you know."

"Really? That's unfair," Harry grumbled, pulling a pillow to his chest.

"It didn't take much to turn your mood around, did it?" Tom gave a goofy grin, motioning to the rest of the room. "We're finally in the Hogwarts of your stories that you've been telling me ever since we met."

"Yes, we are," Harry said, smiling again. The door opened, Malfoy, Nott, Mulciber, and Rosier dragging themselves in. Tom bit back a laugh as he noted how their robes were now askew, far from the pristine image they first presented.

Malfoy stopped in front of his trunk, which was sitting at the foot of the bed next to Harry's closest to the door. He stared at it before looking up at Tom, eyes narrowing. He strode over to stand at the foot of every bed, pulling his wand out of his pocket and readying it in his hand.

"I'll be taking that bed."

Tom raised his eyebrows, sitting up. He lifted his hands to a hidden position of attention, unwilling to try out his wand for the first time in a situation like this. If necessary, he would stick to the magic he'd developed with Harry.

"I'm afraid it's already taken," Tom said. He couldn't look weak now; Malfoy was the obvious leader of the group of friends, no matter how much Nott put on airs. He wasn't going to let himself and Harry look weak now.

Malfoy's brow furrowed. "You don't understand. I'm Abraxas Malfoy."

Tom nodded. "Your point being?"

Abraxas's mouth opened in shock before snapping shut. "I am the heir of House Malfoy. I've been learning magic for longer than you Mudbloods have known you're wizards!" He pointed his wand at Tom, a threatening and ugly look distorting his pale and aristocratic features.

"Apis Ac-"

Tom flung his hands out from behind his legs, focusing on his magic and directing it to weave itself to repel Malfoy. Magic rushed out from Tom's hands, the invisible scent of storming seas upon the air. Malfoy flew into the bed across from Tom's, pushed against the headboard. Tom did not release him yet, however, slipping off the bed and stalking forward. His mind was overtaken with irritation and anger. He and Harry were disadvantaged. They'd never even used their wands before and now it turned out that children from Wizarding families had been learning magic for years? Tom felt a flicker of fear in his heart. They were behind; he could not let them look weak. They would discover that Harry could not see soon. He had to prove them strong.

His fingers curled into a fist, nails biting his fleshy palms. Malfoy gasped, robes pressed flat against his body as Tom squeezed his fists. He could almost feel Malfoy's ribs straining as the force of his magic began to compress them tighter and tighter… A hand gave a gentle touch to his shoulder.

Tom froze.

"You've made your point." The breathy, quiet Parseltongue snapped Tom back to awareness. He looked back at Harry, whose eyes were steely as they looked at Malfoy. Tom's fingers uncurled, Malfoy dropping onto the bed and giving a hoarse cough.

Tom walked back to his bed, disrobing and putting on pyjamas in silence. He could feel the eyes of the others on him as he got ready for bed. Harry sat on Tom's bed as Tom took out a book from his trunk. The last hour before the lights in the room went off was filled with quiet silence, the rustle of pages, and scratching quills.

When the room flooded with darkness, Harry's bed lay empty.


"…today was a most interesting day. I reunited with my friends on the train, of course. Avery had abominable manners out of sight of his parents. I made the effort to correct him several times throughout the day. Sometimes, I wonder why I even bother being friends with him. I know that his house is aligned with ours politically, but is it necessary for us to be friends? I can't quite keep myself from trying to push him into line.

On another, perhaps more interesting note, we have two Mudbloods of dubious parentage in our year. In Slytherin. I profess myself surprised at their general sense of culture; they were far from the bumbling, ignorant Mudbloods I'd come to expect. They could be half-bloods; when Avery, the fool, asked directly, one of them turned his words around in a way that was positively Slytherin. They are in our dorm alphabetically; I was hoping that you knew something about them. Their surname is Riddle; they profess to be cousins. They both speak in a peculiar accent that reminds me somewhat of singing which leads me to suspect that they might be foreigners of some sort.

I wished to ask you about something that one of the Riddles, Tom Riddle, did. Malfoy wanted Riddle's bed (it was one of the ones closest to the wall, across from mine) and demanded it, but before Malfoy could enact retribution, Riddle flung out his hands and levitated Malfoy against the wall. Without a wand. He started…squeezing Malfoy as if his magic was a giant fist, and only stopped once the other had stopped him. I am curious; isn't wandless magic a myth? Yet this is what it appeared to be… I will keep you updated on further developments.

Send my regards to mother.

Your loving son,

Lenus Nott, heir to House Nott"


AN: Malfoy's jinx: Apis Aculeum, my fanon incantation for the canon Stinging Jinx. Categorized as a dark charm and something that I believe dark pureblood families would use as an introduction to dark magic.

I want to mention the numbers in my story: there are about 200 students in each year, meaning that the final total of children at Hogwarts is about 1,400. The population of the Wizarding World is about 30,000, meaning that one out of every 2,133 humans in Britain is magical. JKR's world seems to indicate no more than 15,000 magicals at most and leaves much of the background missing. I've decided to up the numbers with artistic license to see where it goes.

Armando's ridiculous age is actual canon: his birthday is in 1637. He was alive in canon Harry's time as well, at least until 1992…

I updated my tumblr blog recently; there is now a tag list and a references + inspiration page in case anyone was curious in seeing where I got my information. I'm sure there are more sources that I have referenced that I have forgotten to bookmark, but even so, the list is pretty comprehensive. I've been meaning to put a lot more information about characterization and specific details on there, so if anyone has a specific question they'd like to ask that others would like to see the answer two, head over there! Thank you, all of you, for your reviews and suggestions. A shoutout of thanks for the anonymous reviewers who I cannot reply to!