The first of September soon arrived, and Callidus and Harry were being dropped off at King's Cross Station to join their friends on the Hogwarts Express.

"I can't believe that we were taken all the way to London just so we could take the train to back to Hogwarts," Harry moaned. "We were already there! What's the point?"

"I believe that it's so that people like Draco won't have an aneurysm when he sees that we're not on the train."

"Draco already knows that we're at Hogwarts," Harry pointed out.

"Yes, but just think of how lonely he'd be without us."

A chortle escaped Harry's lips. He was no doubt imagining Draco in a compartment, all alone with some sort of pitiful little pout on his pale face and watery eyes. Of course, in no universe would this ever happen. Draco was too rich, and his family name too well, for him to ever have to suffer being alienated and isolated from his peers.

With an expression somewhere between resignation and amusement, Harry said: "Come on, let's find Draco before he expires from loneliness."

They walked through the length of the train, checking the compartments until they found Draco, crammed in with most of the other first year Slytherins.

"All right!" Draco declared. "They're here. Everyone, Out!"

"But Draaaky!" Parkinson pouted.

"OUT!"

Parkinson clutched onto Harry's arm. "You want me here, don't you Harry?" She looked up at him with wide, puppy-dog eyes.

Callidus snorted "I don't think anyone's falling for that, Pans. We've all seen the real you."

"Oh shush, Cal! You wouldn't know what to do with yourself without me. Harry?" Parkinson somehow managed to make her eyes even bigger and more soulful.

"I - Draco, just look at her! I can't say no!" Harry cried. "Besides, she gives really good scalp massages."

Parkinson smiled smugly. "I do, don't I?"

Callidus rolled his eyes, and plopped down on an empty seat in the compartment. "Frankly Draco, between her ability to manipulate Harry, and your ability to manipulate Harry, I think Parkinson has you beat."

"I'm not being manipulated," Harry interjected, to which, Callidus arched his eyebrow. "Okay, fine, maybe I am. But I like scalp massages! It's a win-win situation."

Draco stubbornly crossed his arms. "In what way am I winning?"

"You win by being a good sport," Parkinson quipped. "Blaise! Where are you?"

Draco was muttering: "But I don't want to be a good sport," when Zabini peeked into the compartment.

"Managed to bully your way into staying, Pansy?" Zabini asked.

"Charmed, Blaise. I charmed my way in," Parkinson corrected.

Zabini smiled indulgently. "Ah, of course Pansy. I must have misspoke."

Once everyone was settled in the compartment, Callidus pulled out a book while the others gossiped (or more accurately, Parkinson shared gossip to a mostly interested crowd.) At some point, Draco brought out a travelling wizarding chessboard, and they ended up playing a two versus two game, which only served to stress out and aggravate the chess pieces, who didn't know who they should be listening to. Callidus did not pay too much interest to his surroundings until heard Parkinson mention the word ARMED.

Callidus lowered his book. "What do you know of ARMED?"

"Oh? Were you listening in this whole time, Cal? And here I thought you'd have no interest in society."

Callidus just raised his eyebrow, unwilling to dignify the gibe with an answer. Parkinson rolled her eyes. "I was just saying that Euphemia Rowle, who's one of the Heads of the club, is a two-faced hag. Oh, she has the perfect pureblood manners, and can act all sweet in front of anyone important enough, but if she thinks you're beneath her, she's a vicious viper."

"I've never seen seen Euphemia Rowle being anything other than polite," Draco reflected.

"That doesn't argue my point. Besides, Euphie -" (there was a touch of venom when Parkinson used the epitaph) "- has only ever been polite to me. But I have eyes, you know. People seem to forget that I see things. She was horrid to Millie."

"But Millie's so nice!" Harry put forward.

"The nicest there is," Parkinson agreed. "Well, aside from you, Harry. The point is, I don't know if I'd want to join a club run by Euphemia. I think she sees it as some sort of power grab. She's greedy and petty and she's always putting on such airs. I don't know what Wystan was thinking, allowing her to be in charge."

"Not everyone is as observant as you, Pansy" Zabini pointed. "Like Draco, I've never seen Euphemia Rowle behaving uncivilly. But -" he raised his hands defensively, warding off Parkinson's protests, "- that said, I trust you Pansy. If you say that she's two-faced, she probably is."

"She is two-faced!" Parkinson emphasized. "I'd sooner trust old Sluggy to guard a stash of candied pineapples when his blood sugar is low, than I'd trust Euphie."

Callidus and Harry shared a speaking look. Both of them had planned on joining ARMED, but Parkinson's words were not making them feel optimistic. Parkinson herself could be pretty nasty and acid-tongued to people she didn't like. If Parkinson thought that Euphemia Rowle was an bad person, that wasn't a good sign.

Since Parkinson knew little else about Euphemia Rowle, the topic soon moved onto something else and Callidus stopped paying attention. He tried to return to reading his book, but he found himself thinking about the possibly two-faced Euphemia Rowle. For some reason, it made him think of Harry. Harry wasn't at all two-faced (as far as Callidus was concerned), and yet, there was something going on that made him feel uneasy.

After that initial night at Hogwarts, Harry had had a few more nights of moaning and thrashing about. Callidus hadn't made a move to wake him, and the moaning always stopped on its own. However, one time, when it seemed worse than usual, Callidus had climbed out of bed, debating whether or not to disrupt Harry. He had stood by Harry's bedside, his wand lit, like last time, wondering if his behaviour might somehow be creepy, as though he were some sort of dungeon bat swooping in in the night or something, which only made him feel worse about the whole thing. Harry's sleeping expression looked almost angry, and Callidus could imagine the raven-haired boy's look of scorn if he tried to wake him. He had reached forward, and at that moment, his eyes fell upon the cord of Harry's dragon-tooth necklace. Unsure of what was driving him, he focused on magical sensitivity, and that strangely hostile feeling of cold waves beneath his skin returned, almost as strong as the first time he was ever aware of it.

It had left Callidus feeling nauseous, and he had recoiled away, wanting nothing more than to crawl into his own bed and forget about the whole night. Somehow, he managed to stand firm. A few minutes later, the line between Harry's brow had smoothed away and his expression became more peaceful. Tentatively, Callidus used his magical sensing again, and while the feeling of cold waves persisted, it was much weaker now.

Callidus wasn't sure of what to make of it. Unwilling to leave the matter to himself (because that wouldn't have solved anything), he had mentioned it to Harry. But Harry was convinced that Callidus was just sensing the protective magic from the pendant, and nothing could convince him that the problem might be more insidious. Harry did not want to discuss the issue, even when Callidus tried to pass it off as intellectual curiosity. Instead, Harry became more focused on discovering Hogwarts' secrets than ever. He seemed to believe there was some sort of important place that was his to claim. In the end, Callidus dropped the matter. He scoured Hogwarts' library for more information about enchantments, but in the end, he came up with nothing.

The sky was beginning to darken, and the Slytherins could hear increased activity outside of their compartment as the train drew near to Hogwarts.

"First years," Parkinson said in a bored and affected manner, as if they hadn't just been first years last year. She was still a little too young to effectively pull off 'sophisticated-cynicism,' but Callidus couldn't help but have the premonition that in a few years, her words would cause the devastation of fragile egos everywhere, with each casually dropped syllable. He was suddenly glad that Parkinson was on their side.

The train pulled to a stop, and as the Slytherins made their way to the platform, Callidus caught sight of Caiside, who had spotted him at the same time. He arched his eyebrow at her, and she raised her eyebrows in turn, which caused him to snort with amusement. He was curious to see what house she would get sorted in. He knew that the Filodoxos wanted her to be in Slytherin, where she could make 'proper connections,' but he had a feeling that Caiside's sorting would be a surprise, of the best sort. Callidus also caught sight of a familiar red-headed girl, who was looking at an oblivious Harry with a mix of longing and admiration.

He heard Hagrid calling for the first years, and the trio waved to the half-giant, who flashed them a smile and waved back before leading the first years away.

"I can't wait to see how big Norberta's grown," Draco commented, as they walked along the mud track towards the stagecoaches that would take them to Hogwarts. "D'you think she'd still recognize me? I spent a lot of time with her last spring, and I helped to feed her a few times. I bet she'll still remember me. Don't you think she might? Dragons are intelligent creatures. She'll probably remember me." Somehow, the novelty of Hagrid's dragon still hadn't worn off for Draco, and it had created an odd, but endearing bond between Draco and the Hogwarts gamekeeper. In fact, the new dragon, complete with its specially created magical enclosure was a subject of great interest for all the students.

The Slytherins climbed into the coaches, which Callidus knew was pulled by the invisible thestrals. He learned that it was much more comfortable riding in a coach (even if it smelled faintly like mold and straw), than riding on a thestral's back, even if he had to listen to Draco complaining about it the whole time. They passed through a beautifully ornate wrought-iron gate between a pair of columns topped with winged boars, and were pulled up a long drive, taking them closer and closer to the imposing castle.

Though Callidus and Harry had been in the castle just this morning, seeing it again still filled them with a renewed sense of awe. Perhaps it was due to the presence of the other students around them. Somehow, it just felt more magical. They entered through the oak doors into the entrance hall which was brightly lit with torches. Following the mass of students, they turned to the door on the right, leading into the Great Hall, and made their way to the Slytherin table. It felt strange, to be leaving a space at the end of the table for the new first years. It was as though they were somehow more of a part of Hogwarts than ever.

The first years emerged through a side door, most of them with their heads craned up to the magnificent enchanted ceiling and its multitude of floating candles. McGonagall brought out the stool and the hat, and they all sat and listened to its song about the different houses.

"Look at them, they look scared," Draco snickered.

"It kind of was scary," Harry recalled. Callidus didn't think it had been that bad. But then again, he didn't have the whole Hall bursting out in whispers when his name was spoken. Briefly, he wondered what the school had thought about Harry's sorting into Slytherin. Would Harry have been more popular if he had ended up in one of the other Houses? Being in Slytherin meant that to some degree, he would have been ostracised by the other Houses, but on the other hand, it insulated him as well.

Callidus paid little heed to the sorting, giving a desultory sort of applause anytime a first year was sorted into Slytherin. He did not sit up until he heard 'Filodoxos, Caiside!' being called by McGonagall. The curly-haired girl stepped up to the stool, managing to hide any trepidation she might have felt. He had a feeling she would do well in Slytherin.

The hat seemed to be taking a while, and as it twisted this way and that on her head, a familiar smug smile spread across Caiside's face, and Callidus leaned forward without being aware that he had done so. What was it going to be? Ravenclaw perhaps? She was pretty bookish (at least when she wasn't busy with her garden.) Or Hufflepuff? Ha. That would have been good. With a Head of House as the Herbology professor, she would have fit right in. Or, could it be Gryffindor? Madam Filodoxos would have an apoplectic fit if she ended up in Gryffindor.

If Callidus hadn't befriended Hermione, he might have felt a stronger disdain towards the House of lions, but in that moment, he couldn't help but think that it would somehow be fitting (and so very amusing) if Caiside ended up in Gryffindor.

"GRYFFINDOR!" the hat shouted, and Callidus sat back, exclaiming: "Ha!" which caused the now second-year Slytherins to give him odd looks.

"Is that the girl you were staying with over the summer?" Harry queried.

Callidus smirked. "Yes. Her parents are going to kill her. Well, her mother at least. Death by verbal evisceration."

Harry raised his eyebrows, bemused. "You're happy about that? I thought you said she wasn't so bad?"

"Caiside's all right. I imagine she's pleased with herself." When Callidus glanced over towards the Gryffindor the table, Caiside still appeared to be wearing her self-satisfied smile, and she had been greeted by the typical boisterous cheers of the lions. For a moment, Callidus wondered if Caiside would end up befriending Hermione, before he internally cringed at his thoughts. 'I'm not some sort of - friend matchmaker,' he thought. Who they befriended was their business, and there was no way that he would meddle like some sort of busybody hen.

Callidus didn't think that the rest of the sorting would be of interest. He didn't recognize most of the names, except for a few familiar sounding well-known surnames. But when Professor McGonagall reached the last name on the list, "Weasley, Ginevra!" he was caught by surprise.

Callidus was sure that like the rest of the Weasleys, Ginny Weasley would instantly be sorted into Gryffindor. But then, the silence stretched on and on. He could see Ginny Weasley peeking glances towards the Slytherin table, obviously seeking out Harry with her eyes. It couldn't be that the hat was thinking about putting her in Slytherin, was it? The idea was preposterous!

Finally, after an interminable amount of time, the hat shouted: "GRYFFINDOR!" and everyone sat back with relief that the sorting was finally over.

Before the feast could begin, Professor Dumbledore was on his feet, about to make his welcoming speech. Callidus wondered if it would be as ridiculous as the previous year's. He and Harry hadn't seen much of the old headmaster over the summer. Callidus had only sat down with Dumbledore once, and when Callidus has asked what the headmaster was doing, he mentioned he was researching the reasons that Voldemort's spirit was tied down to this world so he could eliminate him for good, and he was also busy with the Wizengamot, trying to assure that the members did not lose their heads over their 'irrational antagonism' toward muggles and muggleborns. In other words, Dumbledore had been caught up in politics.

Callidus did not dislike the man. He was sure that the care and concern that he saw in Professor Dumbledore's eyes was genuine. It was just that he was also increasingly sure that his values differed from the old man's. While Callidus might respect muggleborns as much as Dumbledore did, that did not mean that he wanted to absorb muggle culture. And while Dumbledore condemned the Dark Arts, Callidus believed that witches and wizards should be free to explore and perform whatever magic they might choose to perform. It seemed foolish and over-zealous to assume that all of the Dark Arts were harmful. True, most of the Dark Arts involved someone or something getting hurt, but in many cases, the sacrifice might be willing (such as if someone willingly used their own blood in a ritual.)

That said, Callidus wasn't about to jump to the other end of the spectrum and embrace the ideals of someone like Lucius Malfoy either. He didn't think that purebloods were superior to muggleborns and half-bloods like himself. If anything, Callidus thought that Wystan's path was the best. He wanted to seek knowledge, wherever it might lead (and especially if it led to prestige and power.) It was a middle path.

"Welcome!" Dumbledore's voice pulled Callidus from his thoughts. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! As you dig into your feast, here are a few things to keep in mind: Yum! Delicious! The roast is dry! Blergh! I jest, I jest, the roast is never dry."

Callidus groaned. Was that supposed to be funny? He could practically hear Draco rolling his eyes, while Harry snorted with amusement. At least the food had finally magically appeared on their plates.

Soon, everyone was sated and sedated due to too much food and pudding, and Dumbledore was standing up again to make school announcements. Harry and Draco seemed especially keen to hear about Quidditch try-outs, and this year, there was no mention about any fatally dangerous corridors, third-floor or otherwise.

"I am also pleased to welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Lockhart," Dumbledore continued to announce.

Callidus hadn't given much thought to the new professor. After the trio had concluded that the man hardly qualified as a credible teacher, they had lost their curiosity. Besides, every single one of Lockhart's ridiculous books included a huge photo of himself, so they already knew what he looked like and dressed like. The man made peacocks look as modest and dull as particularly uptight nuns compensating for major guilt complexes.

At the moment, Lockhart had stood up, and was flashing his blindingly white smile. He had wavy golden hair that would make any goblin start to feel covetous, and blue eyes that he probably used like a weapon against the hearts of romantically-susceptible women. In fact, quite a number of the girls in the Great Hall appeared to be collectively sighing as they gazed upon Lockhart's smiling face. Even sharp-natured Parkinson was looking a bit dazed, and as for Millicent Bulstrode -

"There's a face that makes me not want to punch it," Bulstrode was saying, which was really the highest sort of compliments, coming from her.

"He's dreamy," Daphne Greengrass murmured breathily. "Do you think he offers any one-on-one tutoring sessions?"

Callidus cringed, but refrained from comment, not wanting to rekindle his antagonistic relationship with Greengrass on their first day back. He really did not want to know what went on in the mind of girls. Finally, Dumbledore announced that it was time for bed, which came as an immense relief because Callidus did not think he could endure another moment of listening to the girls debating the length of Lockhart's eyelashes. He had fully convinced himself that there was no way that girls could be human. They had to be an alien species. That was the only logical reason for why anyone would think that the length of anyone's eyelashes would qualify as a subject of serious conversation.

The Slytherins followed their prefects down to the dungeons, and while Callidus had liked the chambers he shared with Harry over the summer, the dungeons felt more like home. They entered their common room (the password was 'meraclus'), listened to Professor Slughorn give a rambling welcome speech about connections and potential, and then crawled into their Slytherin-green beds, bellies full of food, and hearts full of optimism for the upcoming year.

A/N: My posting might be reduced to 1x a week in the next while. I have school stuff to deal with (sigh)