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Chapter Two—Shadows at Hogwarts

Harry wanders through the crowd around the Hogwarts Express, carefully dodging through a shadow when one person almost backs into him as they wave their arms and give tearful snuffling kisses to their parents. Harry still wishes for parents, sometimes, but he's glad he doesn't have some of these.

The month in Diagon Alley sped past. Harry read a lot and eavesdropped on a lot of people's conversations, wherever he could find mention of Hogwarts or his name. He still doesn't think he knows everything, but he knows a lot more than he did when he first got to the wizarding world.

People do expect him to be a hero. They do think he will change the world somehow, just by existing. And they do think that he's a bright, simple, innocent, polished, wise, naive lad, all at once.

Harry has already concluded that trying to be all those things is impossible. He will be what he can, what he wants, and sometimes what other people expect, but he won't tie himself in knots over their expectations.

He finds an empty compartment on the train easily, since he's there before most of them anyway. He thought about putting on his school robes right away, but in the end he went with black casual ones. He slings his trunk into the compartment overhead and sits down with a book on history. It seems, from some of the things he heard from the shadows, that Hogwarts's History teacher is awful.

No one bothers him until almost time for the train to get moving. Then the door of the compartment opens.

Harry starts to wind the shadows around himself automatically. If he does it right and holds still, he can sit there and be invisible; someone will look right at him and not be able to see him. He used that to escape Dudley and his gang a lot.

But then he hesitates. He's going to have to show up at Hogwarts in a way he never did at primary school. And he doesn't have a Dudley running around this time to make the other kids hate him and he hates the other kids.

So he lets the shadows go, and pretends to be reading so intensely that he only looks up when the other kid clears his throat.

Harry glances up with a faint smile on his face. He knows how to look sort-of friendly after his month in Diagon Alley. The boy who's looking back at him is pale and thin and has a large shock of dark hair that's tamer than Harry's. He's also staring at Harry so intensely that Harry thinks he might have seen him if he was wrapped in shadows after all.

"Is anyone else sitting here?" the boy asks quietly.

Harry shakes his head. The boy sits down on the other side of the compartment for him and also takes out a book, although it looks as if this one's on Transfiguration.

Harry is about to go back to his history book, and maybe send out some shadows to spy on people, when the boy asks, "What is your name? Mine is Theodore Nott."

He speaks formally, the way that Harry has mostly heard older wizards speak in the past month. Harry decides he probably has strict parents. He smiles back and nods a little and says, "My name is Harry Potter."

The boy's eyes widen. They flick up to his scar, the way everyone is always doing. Harry can smile politely enough by now, and go back to reading. Or he would, but Nott says, "You're nothing like I expected."

"What did you expect?" Harry asks. This is the first time he's been able to ask the question instead of just playing along with what people want to see.

"A parade of well-wishers, your loving family behind you, flying banners in red and gold," Nott answers immediately. "The last might be metaphorical."

Harry rolls his eyes a little. He knows red and gold are the colors of Gryffindor House, where he doesn't think he has much chance of going. It's concerning to think people know his Hogwarts House before he's Sorted, though. "What do you know about my family?"

"Not much. Your mother and father are—dead. I know you were raised by some relatives of your father's—"

"How do you know that?"

"Well, I suppose I never received confirmation of it. But my father thinks that's likely what happened. It's well-known that James Potter's mother's family came from out of the country and that you were supposed to be in a safe place with people who were taking care of you. It seems like a reasonable assumption."

Nott is speaking slowly now, one eye on Harry. Harry shakes his head a little. It's not going to be good for him to show too much interest in talking about or defending his relatives. "I was raised by my mother's family."

"But your mother was—"

Harry gives Nott a friendly smile. "I'm not much up for my mother being called a 'Mudblood,' just so you know."

Nott pauses again. He seems to be a lot more careful than some people from Harry's primary school, which Harry has to admit he likes. "I wasn't going to speak the word."

"Just think the thought?" Harry raises his eyebrows when he sees a blush creeping over Nott's cheeks. He doesn't think he's ever made someone blush before. "Look, it's fine if you think the thought. If you treat me badly because of that, I'll convince you not to. If you just want to think it and avoid me for the rest of your life, I don't care, but you should leave the compartment now."

Nott sits quietly for a long moment. Then, oddly, he smiles. "I think you're going to shake things up, Potter." And he goes back to reading without saying another word.

After a second, Harry shrugs and does the same. But he can keep his eyes fastened on the page and his shadows spreading across the train to listen to the students' conversations. He's not used to spending a lot of time around people his own age. He needs to know what they talk about.


By the time they walk into the Great Hall, with the swirls of stars and the shining moon overhead, Harry has a little frown on his face. It seems that people his own age mostly talk about Houses, how much magic they already know, how much better they are than anyone else, and how much they wish other people—like Muggleborns—weren't here.

This is all so boring to Harry. They're going to be Sorted into their Houses in just a minute, they're all going to learn more magic, if you were really better than someone else you would keep it quiet so you could take advantage of them later, and there's really no difference between one wizard and another based on who their parents were.

He hopes that he can actually fit into Hogwarts, but he's starting to suspect that he won't.

After a second, Harry gives a little shrug. If he doesn't fit in, he doesn't. At least he knows he can protect himself and keep ahead of people by using his shadows to figure out their secrets.

Nott stays close beside him as the Sorting Hat sings and Harry applauds politely. Harry supposes that makes sense. Professor McGonagall said that they would be Sorted alphabetically, and Nott is pretty close to Potter, even though it might not be right before depending on the other students.

Harry watches as the others get Sorted. There seem to be a lot of cheers for Hufflepuff and Gryffindor students, not so much for Ravenclaw and Slytherin. It makes Harry want to roll his eyes. Do the other students care that much about what colors you wear and where you sleep?

Sure, the Hat also said that it had something to do with the Founders' love for certain character traits, but Harry thinks that's so much nonsense. The Founders aren't here and actually raising these kids; they can't know that everyone who would get Sorted into their Houses would be perfect for them.

Harry is rapidly deciding the whole House system is stupid, especially when he watches a girl called Granger argue with the Hat before she's Sorted into Gryffindor and a boy called Longbottom look utterly shocked when he gets Sorted that way. If you can go wherever you want, why does the House matter?

Harry listens to Nott's name get called and smiles at him a little as he goes up under the Hat. He's cautious and maybe clever and he can be quiet when he wants; Harry wouldn't mind sharing a dorm with him.

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat cries after a second.

Harry shakes his head as he watches Nott walk over to the politely applauding green-and-silver table. Well, that might be the end of that. Harry thinks he's cunning, but he doesn't think he's particularly ambitious. He just wants to make people see what they want to see and leave him alone.

A few other people go in front of him, then Professor McGonagall calls his name. Harry walks over to the Hat and puts it on his head, curious. Will it see into his head like Harry sees through the shadows? So far, he hasn't read about magic that is exactly like his.

"Hello there," the Hat murmurs to him. "Aren't you curious? You don't agree with the ideals of any of the Houses, do you?"

It pauses and actually seems to be waiting for an answer, so Harry has to shrug and say, "Not really." His hard work was never rewarded when he did all the chores for the Dursleys, if he stood up to Dudley and was brave he only got punished, he doesn't see the point of reading books and doing nothing else, and he doesn't have any ambitions.

The Hat chuckles at him, making him start slightly. He didn't think the Hat could laugh, although since it can sing, he probably should have. "You don't think that wanting to know everything about everyone and be out in front of everyone is an ambition?"

"I thought just wanting to survive wouldn't be an ambition!"

"Being alive in this manner might help you more than you know. Not every ambitious person become a politician or the Minister of Magic." The Hat gives another chuckle and then announces, as loudly as it did for Nott, "SLYTHERIN!"

Huh. Well. Harry takes off the Hat and gives it a dubious glance. If it says so. Maybe he'll fit into his new House better than he knows.

It turns out that he's wrong about that. Everyone in the Great Hall gapes at him; no one claps. Nott nods to him as Harry takes the seat across the table, but he murmurs, "I couldn't applaud without looking singular, sorry."

"It's all right." Harry ignores the whispers that have turned into mutters and the stares that have turned into glares. He's used to this from Privet Drive and people thinking that he's a delinquent, after all. He does turn around and notice a professor at the head table staring at him particularly hard. "Who's that?"

"Professor Snape, the Head of Slytherin," says a blond boy who's staring at Harry as if he's all broken out in spots. "You're in trouble if you don't appeal to him, Potter. He can assign detentions and take points." He seems to debate for a second, then holds out his hand. "Draco Malfoy."

Harry politely shakes his hand and doesn't say anything. He saw Lucius Malfoy's name on a list of suspected Death Eaters in one of the books. He doesn't see that Malfoy has anything to be proud of if his father was so weak as to follow another wizard.

The food is good enough to make Harry glad he came to Hogwarts, but the way that most of the other Slytherins, Nott excepted, stare at him and whisper is annoying. So is the way that his Head of House treats him after dinner. He comes up as they're leaving the Great Hall for the dungeons, pulls Harry aside, and sneers at him. "There will be no pranks played in this House, Mr. Potter," he says.

For a minute, Harry thinks he's talking about the pranks Harry pulled on the Dursleys to get them to leave him alone. Then he sees the way that Snape stands there with his arms folded and a glare all over his face, and nods. This is another adult who hates Harry for existing, the way Vernon did. Well, that's fine. Harry knows how to cope with them.

Snape seems confounded by his silence. He leans forwards. "The minute any of your Housemates complain about you, Potter, any of them, I will assign you detention myself," he threatens.

"Yes, sir," Harry says, in his best neutral voice. That seems to satisfy Snape, who pulls back with an ugly smile.

"Good luck finding the common room without a prefect to lead you, Potter," he mutters, and walks off.

Harry waits until he's gone to snort. He heard enough from the students on the train and at dinner to know the Slytherin common room is in the dungeons. So he goes down the stairs that he saw the other Slytherins heading towards and reaches out confidently towards the first set of shadows lying under a flickering torch. He was right, the wizarding world and its use of fire is a lot more useful for moving around in.

From there, Harry spreads out his attention in many different directions, rather like peering through many different windows and moving on, until he finds the Slytherin students traveling through a particularly large corridor with shadows at the beginning and end of it. Harry nods. He didn't think they would have reached the common room yet, when his conversation with Snape was only a few sentences long. He rears backs and leaps through the shadows.

He appears behind the last stragglers and hurries to catch up, just as the fifth-year prefect tells them the password is Purus. Nott gives him a baffled glance as they walk into the common room.

"I thought Professor Snape was talking to you?" he murmurs.

"Only to give me a warning against playing pranks and telling me he'll give me detention if I try," Harry says, with a shrug. "Does he hate pranks or something?"

"He hates it when the Gryffindors try to sneak into our House or mess up our potions or spells," Nott says after a pause. "I can't think of anything else."

"I suppose he just hates me then."

Nott hesitates, but Malfoy, on his way past, overhears Harry and guffaws loudly. "Maybe you should think harder about the things you did when you were one year old," he says, and struts up the stairs.

Harry rolls his eyes a little. If Snape was a Death Eater too, then Harry has interest in staying out of his way, but less than none in apologizing or doing whatever else Malfoy was actually saying.

"Ignore Draco," Nott says, into a silence that feels almost embarrassed on his part. "He's a prat."

"Oh, I know," Harry says, and smiles at Nott, and goes up to bed. The Slytherin boys' bedroom he's assigned to is dark green with pillars on all the beds, and some carved snakes on the headboards, and so much faint green light from the window that Harry can almost see well enough to read by it. And shadows. So many shadows, from high furniture and trunks and overhanging features of the ceiling and the walls.

Harry goes to bed well-pleased.


The first few weeks or so are a blur. Harry does his best to make sure he's on time to classes and gives an honest effort at all his spells and potions and other schoolwork. When he realizes Snape is never going to mark him fairly no matter what he does, though—Harry brews a good potion the first day without any help like the other Slytherins get and is told he must have cheated—he gives up on that class. Potions might be useful if he can study them outside of class, and the shadows have already showed him little passages in the walls and shut-up rooms where he can practice.

Other people act strangely. They pretend to lose their way in the corridors just so they can talk to Harry. They giggle and stare at him from under their eyelashes. The strangest are probably the first-year Gryffindors, though, who corner Harry as a group on the second Friday when he's on his way back from Potions.

"We want to know why you aren't in Gryffindor," says a sandy-haired one who looks at Harry intensely.

"Because the Hat put me in Slytherin."

That makes the dark-skinned boy laugh, and he puts his hand out so Harry can shake it. "Dean Thomas," he says. "The rest are being weird, but I told them it's because the Hat put you in Slytherin. I told them that's what you'd say."

Harry shakes his hand and grins at him. "Harry Potter," he says. "Now you've really met me, not the illusion most people carry around in their heads."

"But you were supposed to be in Gryffindor," says the red-haired one. Harry is fairly sure his last name is Weasley, after seeing other Gryffindor gingers, but he doesn't know his first one. "My parents said your parents were."

"So what? I can't remember them, it's not like they could influence me."

"But—Houses run in families."

Harry shrugs. "My other family is Muggles. They can't have Houses running in their blood." He smiles at the Weasley until he looks uncomfortable and like he wants to go away.

The sandy-haired one interrupts again, just as Nott comes around the corner and stops near Harry for some reason. "You're sure that you don't want to be in Gryffindor? Then you could have friends like us."

"He has friends like me instead," Nott says in a cool voice, and steps forwards so the other Gryffindors can see him. "Why would he want ones like you?"

That makes Weasley and the sandy-haired one bristle, and the girls, who haven't said anything in the argument so far, look a little shocked. Thomas shrugs and says, "And he has me, if he'd like to talk to me sometime." He gives Harry a calm nod and walks away towards lunch. The other first-year Gryffindors don't seem inclined to move. Harry walks past them with Nott at his side.

"Let me know if they're bothering you again," Nott says, when they're almost to the Great Hall. "They act like you're their icon who got painted in the wrong colors or something."

"Okay," Harry says slowly. "Thanks, Nott. But—honestly, why?"

Nott pauses, and Harry knows he's thinking something over. He turns around and studies the other boy. He thought Nott just happened to walk with him to some classes—after all, the first-year Slytherins usually travel as a group—and sit next to him at lunch because the number of seats is limited and talk to him because he knows Harry likes to read some books and has knowledge of things Nott finds interesting. But maybe it really is an attempt to make friends.

It's not like Harry would recognize it. He's never had one before.

Nott says, "Well, you're—smart. And what I aspire to be. Someone who doesn't care about anything that anyone says," he adds, when Harry gives him a Look, because Nott doesn't know about the shadows and Harry can't imagine him wanting to be the Boy-Who-Lived. "You just go on your way. My father tried to raise me like that, but it never worked. Seeing you, though...I'd like to be like you."

"So. A friend?"

Nott nods. He's staring at Harry hard and almost holding his breath. Harry smiles at him and extends his hand. "Then I can be your friend as much as I am anyone's. It's hard to learn."

"I know," Nott says in a soft voice that makes Harry suspect he actually does. And they walk the rest of the way to lunch in pleased silence.


One of the first things Harry learns to love about Hogwarts is the way that shadows connect up so often with other shadows. He can pass through what seems to be solid stone and find hollows or corridors or staircases on the other side that he can also watch or run up depending on the way the shadows in this new space fall.

One day, he goes through what seems to be a solid gargoyle and finds himself in a staircase on the other side. It looks like it would rotate underneath him if he was walking up it. Fascinated, Harry flickers his attention from shadow to shadow up the staircase, and pauses at the door at the top to see if there are shadows underneath it that he can use.

There are! There seems to be a bright fireplace in there. Harry leapfrogs under the door and lies in the shadow of a desk. He can see a perch with a brilliant bird on it, who is sleeping with his head under his wing. From the books he's read, Harry thinks it might be a phoenix. There are shining silver instruments everywhere, and books that look interesting. Harry might have manifested in the office to study them except there are people there.

Headmaster Dumbledore is sitting behind his desk with his hands folded, scowling at Professor Snape. "Now, Severus, I understand that you don't like having Harry in your House, but aren't these concerns rather exaggerated?"

"No, they are not, Headmaster! The boy thinks himself above everybody! He makes friends with no one, he disdains all his Housemates, he spends the majority of his time by himself, and he gives me this knowing smile whenever he sees me!"

Harry would roll his eyes if he could. He gives the knowing smile at Professor Snape because he knows a secret of his. Harry won't use that secret until Snape gets more annoying than he is, but the shadows found something interesting in the corner of his bedroom. Harry's holding it in reserve.

"I thought he was spending a lot of time with Aethelred Nott's son?"

"He's using the boy for Mr. Nott's studious skill, I'm certain. There's no way that he can be attaining the high results that Minerva and Filius and the others are reporting by himself."

"Minerva and Filius are most pleased with his progress."

"He still has his classes with Slytherin and can copy off Mr. Nott."

"If one of them catches him cheating, Severus, I'm sure they'll report it," the Headmaster says, in a voice that tells Harry that line of conversation is over. "And I will be happy to listen to them and discipline Harry then. You told me you had other concerns than the fact that you don't think Harry belongs in Slytherin. What are they?"

Snape hesitates for a long moment. Then he says, "You know that I knew Petunia Evans growing up."

This is news to Harry, but also something he's suspected. Headmaster Dumbledore nods. "Yes, what of it?"

"I've been to that house in Surrey where the boy resides—or resided. I can find no trace of him there, Headmaster. No trace of his toys, his amusements, his friends. I looked into his aunt's mind and found stark fear of him. He is apparently an accomplished thief, but she had no idea how. And his cousin has a burn scar from him, but he couldn't clearly tell his parents how. I fear the boy may be drifting into Dark Arts, Headmaster."

Harry wants to sigh. It seems that while he can read the shadows, some people can read minds. Harry might have to use Snape's secret against him sooner than he thought, or find another one and have that in reserve, too.

But at least Snape didn't learn anything about the shadows from the Dursleys. None of them ever understood how Harry went from place to place, and the dragon that burned Dudley would have seemed like a creature Harry summoned to him, not something that was made of shadow. Why would anyone suspect that?

The shadow magic hasn't been described in any of the books Harry has found, either. No one talks about it. Maybe he is unique in the wizarding world for more than his scar and his status as the supposed Boy-Who-Lived.

"I see." Dumbledore sounds disturbed. "Then I ask you to keep an eye on him, Severus, and try to find out how he's accomplishing feats like his perfect marks in Minerva's and Filius's class. Say nothing directly to him about the Dursleys or your idea that he doesn't belong in Slytherin. Do watch his interactions with Aethelred's son more closely. Mr. Nott must be getting something out of them, or he would have chased Harry off by now."

Snape promises. Harry retreats from the Headmaster's office and goes thoughtfully back down the stairs and into the common room, where he forms in a particularly shadowy corner.

"How do you do that?"

Harry turns around and studies Theodore for a second. He's insisted that Harry call him Theodore since the day they became friends, although sometimes he calls Harry by his last name. "My secret," Harry says.

Theodore watches him with a shadow falling across his face. He's one of the few people Harry's met who looks into shadows, rather than past them, and it makes him a better friend than Harry thought he'd find. "Would you try to take the memory from me?"

"No. I'd find out something you want to keep secret and hold it over your head until you were silent."

Theodore actually smiles. "If I don't have any secrets like that?"

"You must have embarrassing ones, if not dark ones," Harry says. He's utterly certain. "I don't want to do that because you're my friend, but this is more important."

Theodore nods slowly. "I think you've had to fight to protect yourself and your secrets, and no one ever helped you," he whispers.

Harry thinks about it, then shrugs. "That's true," he agrees. He doesn't count things like Dudley agreeing to stop beating him up or Aunt Petunia protecting him from Vernon as real. He had to force them to do it.

"I would be honored to help you protect your secrets, Potter."

"Why? And would you please call me Harry? It's weird when Dean does it and not you."

"Very well—Harry." Theodore give a big enormous pause before the name, like it's significant or something. "And you can say it's because you're my friend. You can say it's because you're going to be very powerful and I'd like you to help lift me. You can say it's because I admire the way you interact with the world, as I've said before. All of those and more."

Harry thinks about that in turn. Theodore honestly does seem as if he's impressed by more than Harry's title and scar. He and Harry discuss books sometimes, laugh sometimes, and spend more time together than anyone else. If it comes down to this, Harry feels like he can believe him.

"Okay," Harry finally says. "As long as you realize what the price is for betraying me."

"As you say, my lord."

"Call me Harry."

"As you say, my lord."

Theodore gets away with it, but only because he's Harry's friend. His first one, his real one, the first he's ever had.

It gives him a lot of leeway in the coming years.