Act 3 Chapter 3: With the New Rising Sun III

All rights to J.K. Rawling and Warner.

With a loud hiss, the Hogwarts Express slowly pulled into Hogsmeade station, rousing the two youngest female members from their quick rest. After a few quick conversations after their reuniting, Selphie had taken issue of the blonde girl's anger directed at Harry and released an odd pheromone which possessed drowsing effect. As the sweet-smelling aroma took the cart, the two girls immediately fell asleep, leaving only him and Selphie awake, as Alistair also succumbed to the olfactory effect. His resistance coming from his contract with Selphie, as his magic resistance shouldn't have been greater than Alistair's. Selphie, still in recovery, rested, taking Harry's shoulder as a pillow.

As the hissing continued, Daphne rose with a soft stretch, lifting her arms above her head as a small moan escaped her thin lips. She failed to upkeep her tense nature and looked very much a girl of twelve while sleeping. Tracy loudly rose and posed like a star from the seated position. "Morning," Harry welcomed with a small amount of enthusiasm, clapping his Gilderoy Lockhart text shut.

"Morning," the girls rang in unison. After the automatic responses, Daphne clamped into character and glared with her cold blue eyes, winding like a spring-loaded toy. While Tracy considered the benefits of sleeping again, her eyes failing to stay aware for a meaningful period. Steam was releasing and fogging the window of the compartment as the strange pseudo electric lights provided the only source as the outside world had darkened.

Ignoring the dangerous glare, he turned his attention to his left, "Wake up, Selphie, we are at Hogwarts," he gave her shoulders a slight shake, rousing her from her rest in an instant. She searched her surroundings, hyperaware, as if from the shadows something would grab her. After the flash of worry, she sunk back into a diminished expression. The hues of her face flashed deeper hues than in London, appearing nearer the woman he met in Atlantia.

"Wait, we are?" Tracy asked, now wide awake and jumping to her feet.

"Our bags are in the other compartment," Daphne responded. "Why didn't you wake us, Potter?" Harry responded with a shrug. "We have to hurry, Tracy," she grabbed the smaller girl and dragged her from the car with little effort, without bothering to even say goodbye.

"I thought the house elves grabbed them?" He asked the empty car. "Well Selphie, are you excited to be sorted?" The girl did not beseech his question with an answer as she stood, her Hogwarts uniform falling over her in a flash of magic. "Remember the wand," Harry added in dismay to the call of magic burring his face in his glove.

"Yes, yes, Harry dear. I will be fine. I am older than you, despite the performance." Her eyes danced with playful fire as she smirked at him. "I will see you," she added, putting a warm hand against the spot molested by the winter fey hours before, setting it afire with life. She gave him an embrace. Closing his eyes, it felt as though he were sitting by a bonfire. He grasped her back, tight, wishing to never be separate from her and abandoned again.

Suddenly, he was empty and cold. "Good luck," he called as she left the compartment, leaving him alone. He went to grab his trunk to switch cloaks, but then glanced at the ring on his hand. "Levioso," he incantated to the trunk, slipping it out of the cubby and gently to the ground. With a flick and a call of "Aperta Arca," an older spell he picked up from a floppy charms text he thought would help his casting problems, the trunk unfastened with a piercing crack. He switched his traveling cloak for the Hogwarts one, bearing the silver snake sat in a field of green, and topped his head with the pointed-wide-brimmed hat, in the boring plain black. His thin leather gloves stayed on, protecting his scarred hands. Latching the trunk and replacing it, he left his compartment traveled the virtually empty halls of the train.

After exiting and giving a wave to Hagrid, who waved back confused, he headed to the upper year departure point. Up on the hill, the Thestral carried carriages were dwindling. The sight of the Carrow girls entering a carriage, which quickly departed, left them out of the option. Another quick scan failed to show a sign of Tracy or Daphne. He decided to accompany the next one with an open seat. Inside was a color pallet rarely accompanying green, as red and yellow were the colors displayed. "Mind if I join?" he asked from the entrance.

"Of course you can," a handsome boy with a yellow hashed scarf answered for the carriage, met with a host of diverse reactions, as he did.

"Thank you," he said, sitting across from the boy as the carriage departed. After a few silent moments, he reached out his hand. "Harry."

"Cedric," the boy said, beaming. "This is Stephen and Ivy, and those two," he pointed to the Gryffindors with an open hand, "Are Alicia and Angelina. We are all Quidditch players, but you knew that already," he spoke while running the same hand through his thick hair, fluffing it like a proud mane.

"Can't say I did. I don't think I went to a game last year." Harry said.

"Well, you should at least remember me then." The boy said, the grin evolving into a smirk.

"Get off it Ced, he is one of those Raven types," a lean boy, Stephen, said, clasping the larger Hufflepuff on the shoulder.

"Last year was my first year, actually." Harry interrupted the jest.

"Really? You are a second year?" The dark skin girl, Angelina, said with astonishment.

"Potter?" the redhead badger, with a sparkle of freckles, asked.

"Yep, Harry Potter."

"Sprout up like a bean, ya did," Stephen said in astonishment. The Gryffindor girls looked on in distrust, and something in Cedric was different, but whatever it be lay dormant behind his well-practiced smile. Outside the carriage, the small wood broke for the castle's outer gate, which led them into the outer courtyard. He had not visited out this side of the castle during his year other than his three incursions to Hogsmeade's train. The waxing moon and the sparkling of stars did little to light the immaculate yard, but the massive roaring pyres flanking the Entry Hall entrance cast stretching shadows across the empty grounds.

"What did they feed you, Potter?" The redhead girl asked again, leaning against him and flashing her teeth in a pretty smile. She smelled nice, like lavender and almond.

"Mostly game, if I am being honest. Charlie ended up catching most if it, even outpacing the guides." He said with a mirrored grin.

"Weasley?" Alicia asked, her brown eyes staring him down like a hawk.

"Oh, did you know him?"

Cedric was the one who answered that question. "Did we know him? Man was a monster on his broom. We saw him as firsties." As the boy spoke, the carriage came to a slow clattering stop as the wanting hall called students in with its promise of warmth and light. Clusters of children stood just inside massive doors with incoherent speech flooding from inside the protective keep.

"Ced is as good as he is." The speckled girl excitingly added, blooming into a blush. "Say, you will come watch us this year, right?" She grabbed his hand and forced Harry's eyes to her own vivid blue ones. Her honesty and excitement, with the lingering promise of immense disappointment in response to any negative answer, weighed on Harry as unfair.

"Sure, but you will have to tell me when it is," Harry said while standing. Helping the girl to her feet, he added, "I don't normally know when things are going on, no one really talks to me." He quickly detached himself from beaming Ivy after she found her footing.

"Well, we will talk to you any time, right Ced," Stephen said, standing. The two girls quickly said 'bye, Ced," before fleeing the carriage.

"Course we will," Cedric replied, attempting to keep up his energy, but failing to match that of his first impression. The quartet exited the carriage as ahead the two Gryffindor Quidditch players moved into the open castle doors into the beckoning Entrance Hall.

Before moving to the enormous doors, Harry approached monsters driving the carriage. The visage of walking death, feasting on him, clouded his eyes as he reached a gloved hand out to the beast, softly giving it a pet on the skin of its neck. "Thank you for the ride. Good hunting." The monster gave him a soft tap with its beak, which consumed the dead, and the emotion of gratitude melded through the touch.

"… was right. He is weird." A feminine voice spoke as the Hufflepuffs reached the Gryffindors. Stephen had stayed back and waited for him.

"What were you doing?" He asked, going in step with Harry as they walked to the Entry Hall, the large cathedral ceiling making the room feel even more massive than the floor would indicate. On his right, the four hourglasses all showed a zero filled exclusively with glass.

"Thanking the Thestral's." Harry spoke. "They carried us all the way."

"Thestral?" Stephen asked as they entered the open doors of the Great Hall, passing the mulling groups of children who had missed conversations on the lengthy Hogwarts train ride. "Thought they were enchanted," Stephen thought out loud.

"Death horses, are you taking care of magical creatures?"

"I did last year, but we didn't learn about them. I can ask Grubbly-Plank at our lesson." He said with gusto as they parted.

"You should. They are very interesting." Harry added before saying , "Good meeting you, Stephen."

"You as well, Harry." With a quick wave, Stephen started down the center path to join Ivy and Cedric near the heart of the table. Harry went to his regular spot near the end of the long house table, which sat alone with naught but the small candlelight above and the soft green table runner bordered and embroidered with silver etchings. Scanning the length, he saw Tracy reach out to call to him, only to be stopped by Daphne, who of the pair noticed they sat pinched between the third years and the rest of his second-year class. Many of the younger year Slytherins frequently shot concealed glances to him, often with confused expressions.

The isolation suited Harry fine. Another year of solitude was all he could expect, for his situation within his peer group did not magically amend itself over the summer hols. How could it, without new experiences, to create a bond beyond the shallow hatred they felt for him? An important thought recalled itself as he searched the table for the Headmaster, who met his own gaze with a smile that lifted his entire face. Albus sat cladded in bright orange robes accented with nonsensical Egyptian phrases scrawled in large lime green fonts. Atop his thin white locks, a pink and yellow spiraling witch hat crookedly sat across his brow. The elder looked healthy with a rich cherry color, Harry thought, sending a small push of mental magic. That dropped the smile from his wrinkled face as Harry felt a returning brush. He pushed a single thought forward: Luna Lovegood. He found an image of the Headmaster's Office in return.

The hall's chatter increased as Professor Sprout carried the three-footed stool and the magic Sorting Hat from behind the headmaster's chair. From his spot on the table, the ancient wizard brought out his hand in a rush of magic flooding the hall. The lights floating above the Slytherin and Gryffindor tables dimmed, leaving a single lit row in the entire hall, like a runway. A loud creek filled the now quiet room as Hagrid's colossal form pressed the unwieldy door open, though Harry could not remember it being closed. McGonagall entered first, her crooked cap bobbing and her green cloak flowing behind her as a trail of firstlings followed like ducklings. He found Selphie quickly in the crowd as she was near the front, standing opposite of Luna Lovegood in the rear. A red gleam from the group brought with it regret as well, the little freckled girl sharing many features with her deceased brother.

The Gryffindor Head of House walked up to the stool, leaving behind the pile of children. Once establishing herself, the hat gave an upbeat song. His raspy construct, including a quick history lesson, a brief description of house values, and ending with a "And your future paved." With modest applause to the performance, the first name was called; a boy with the last name Allen walked up and landed in Ravenclaw. Minutes later, Luna Lovegood would follow him there. Between them a few Slytherins joined, sitting near Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, who were quick to pick up conversations with the boys who just joined. Byrne and Hall were their names. Soon following them were the female Greengrass, Martin, and Price and another boy, Morgan. The Martin girl and Morgan boy joined the conversation with the first- and second-year boys, whereas Daphne made room for the female Greengrass and her apparent friend, Something Price. Perhaps they were cousins?

When S arrived, Selphie Silverleaf strode to the enchanted headwear. Her proud form mirroring that of the royalty she grew in. Selphie's confidence soon dropped in despair. Her lips turned quick, mumbling unheard words to the hall until finally the hat yelled out "Gryffindor!" She looked up for Harry's, and he saw her pain at the separation, afraid of what it signified for the pair.

As she listlessly meandered to the table, an unseen cord snapped. Visions of a time they would spend together evaporated without warning, dissolving into nothingness. Sitting together, reading and teasing each other over unimportant things. Waking to her stunning face, a vision of pure bliss that had been irreplaceable in countless days was ripped away like dried tar. His stomach turned, threatening to wretch the absence of food over the table. She ambled across the hall to the opposite table. Smiling strangers greeted her without any concealed intention or hostility. Yet he wanted to be there. The only one beside her, to see the smile she would soon develop for them.

He watched her until The Deputy Headmistress called for Weasley. He owed Bill that much.

When the hat sorted the last person of the day into Slytherin though, that was strange indeed.

With the New Rising Sun

The Weasley sister presented paltry evidence for why her sorting into The House of Snakes was correct. Her sorting quieted the hall but for his and the headmaster's small claps, echoing with a stuttering of muggleborns. She was on the verge of tears as she sprinted to the table, forgoing looking back as she sat near the Martin girl. Just when Malfoy appeared to speak, the headmaster stood again, welcoming everyone and covering the broad stroke rules about curfew and the forbidden forest.

With a wave, a splendid array of food dishes summoned themselves to the table. Fresh bread steamed and dark meats sat with rich vegetables and fruits sharing the plater and exchanging sharp flavors. Compared to the lean food of the road and the light French cooking, the sight of hardy English dishes of roast and potatoes had him salivating for the comfort they brought. He heaved on heavy loads of various meats and veggies, savoring the rich flavors as he did. The warm food, as if by magic, taking his worry away and melting it with spoonfuls of butter.

During the meal, the youngest Weasley at Hogwarts had moved opposite himself. With shy movements, she filled her plate with the food. Just as it did with him, eating it appeared to help her stress.

"Ginny, right?" He started as the plates of food dwindled. Dessert's popping into the void of empty platters. He grabbed a treacle tart and offered some to the girl, who quietly nodded.

"Yes," she croaked back. "And who are you?"

"Harry, I am a second year."

"Harry Potter?" She shrieked, causing the entire hall to look their way. Blushing, she ducked her head.

Remembering an antic Bill did to Cepheus once when they saw a sea drake at sea, he mimicked cleaning his ear with his pointer, "That's right, but you don't need to deafen me over it," he added the young man's signature smile as he did. A nostalgic wave crashed over her face, quickly leaving again for her nervous nature. Down the table, Malfoy said something about outcast living together like they should, getting a laugh from his expanding list of cronies, as well as Zabian. They sat in a silent eatery for the rest of dinner until the headmasters dismissal.

When the students made for the various common rooms, he instead followed with the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws to the Grand Stairwell, getting side-eyed glances from the groups as he did. Eventually separating from them, he strode up the stone steps until a voice made him stop.

"Potter, where are you are going?" Professor Snape sneered as Harry climbed the central stairwell. Snape had the same slick hair as the year prior, and his unblemished face watched him in distrust. Last year he appeared overbearing, but now, with Harry standing a step above him on the moving stair, he was taller than the professor. His once looming figure accentuated with his overly large burrowing cloak, no longer adding to his demure as a formidable predator. Or perhaps, compared to a dragon, he was a gnat.

"To the Headmaster's office." Harry stated, looking into the deep black eyes of the professor. The contact soon ended as a sudden lance of magic tried to penetrate his well-kept mind, bringing his eyes down like a curtain, hiding access. Harry once again looked at his professor, intent on watching the large beaked nose. The young teachers' features were expressive in ways unrecognizable on the stoney face, like a sociopathic child caught stealing pudding at night. "That was impolite," Harry mimicked Albus's tone, "Severus," the voice came out in a disappointed ring, "legilimency is highly coveted and illegal to practice, more so on a minor." Snape shattered, reflecting the world like a mirror. Harry took this as a dismissal. "I will see you in potions, professor," he said, raising his hand in a weak wave.

Harry did not look back.

With the New Rising Sun

The draconic gargoyle already jumped away as Harry approached the unique door, the naked passageway drawing him forth as if by a string. Braziers burning along the hall's walls illuminated the entry as if the stairwell was a sacred place. In the near windows, the almost completed moon watched down like a loving mother through the glass pane, sending shadows from the decorative inlays over the floor, like star maps of a different world. Harry took his first step up the short stairwell, the pristine marble steps glistening and roaring in time with the flames. Upon reaching the precipice tread, he came upon the onerous iron-bound door. He rasped his knuckles upon the fine dark wood, eliciting a clear call from within as if the thick barrier were nothing but a curtain. The door, rather than opening, faded and created an archway into the lit Headmaster's Chambers.

Albus sat in his large chair draped over a thick tome, an obnoxious quill in his hand responding to his quick handwork, the cap he wore at dinner hanging from one of the chairs crowns. Fawkes perched on his stand, intensely watching the professor's movement, or perhaps the bowl of lemon drops nearby. The jolly nature he presented at the feast no longer lit up his face. Instead, a deep focus on his current task marred his face. Giving an absent flick to the knobbed wand he held, which brought with it dreadful memories of a past life, a modest chair popped into existence across the headmaster.

From his seat on Harry's shoulder, Alistair jumped off, changing into his true form and flying at the fire plane beast as a game of chase started around the multilevel apartment. Harry watched the merry chase with a soft smile until Albus shut the book he was drafting upon, looming at the boy over half mooned glasses. Then, as if a switch had flipped, he lit like a bulb and he relaxed into his chair, exclaiming, "Welcome back, Harry. Have a pleasant summer?"

Harry brought a hand to his face and absently twisted a hair. "Eventful. And yours?"

An exaggerated mock frown grew on his wrinkled face. "Dreadfully boring. I was sitting in those Wizengamot chambers for endless hours. Poor Fawkes pecked me good when I got home, feeling lonely and bitter," he added with a chuckle. The bird in question clamping itself into the desk, letting out an angry squawk in disapproval, before a swift flap had it airborne once again, leading a swearing devil in chase. The headmaster's tone became more serious again. "Some of those meeting had direct relevance to you."

Harry cocked his head in response. "How so?"

The wise wizard reached into his drawer and tossed a small leather-bound journal, tied off with a small brown string. Undoing it saw scrawls of the man's writing, dated with summaries of different days in the chamber. Laws surrounding his status as a ward of the state, laws about improper working conditions. Legality of acts at Hogwarts, specifically about the troll and Quirrell. Days upon days of entries dedicated to Harry Potter, Galleons and Galleons of money spent on the topic of one person.

Then a trial, though not for Harry. It was a retrial for Sirius Black, a man convicted eleven years prior for the murder of thirteen muggles. "Albus, what does Sirius Black have to do with me?" Harry asked, finishing the light scan of the book. The name was familiar. Bringing with it a longing that illuded him.

Pain crept into the man's eyes, as the weight of his storied past dampened his shoulders once more. The heavy weight of his action physically tolling on his form again. "Sirius Black should have raised you from the start." The elder wizard began, "He is your godfather, as appointed by your parents."

"Oh,"

"He would also like to meet you," Albus added.

"Oh."