AN: Thanks for the great reviewsguys. I absolutely loved them and enjoyed reading them extremely. They even gave me a few ideas on what to do later on. Much of this chapter is character building, so it will go a bit slowly, but I think its necessary for giving more depth to the action that is going to come a little later on.

I know this chapter isn't 10000 words, but I wanted to get it out ASAP. Enjoy and don't forget to leave a review!

Chapter 12: Hogwarts

Harry struggled hard to keep alert and conscious as he flew toward London. The felix felicis potion was wearing off. He felt tired and ragged and knew he had to get some sleep. His leg was injured badly – his bone was fragmented into little pieces, blown apart by that reducto curse he had used to stop Renaud's stupefy. His mind kept wandering back to the duel, and how the wand couldn't channel the killing curse. Harry had casted it at the exact moment where it would have done him some massive good – but the wand didn't work. Harry wondered if it was cursed.

It wasn't of course. He knew the reason why Merlin's wand wouldn't channel the Avada Kedavra. It was super dark magic. It seemed this wand could only channel light magic, and if you wanted to tread the line, gray magic. Not black magic though. That was a major drawback with this wand because black magic curses were the easiest to use and did the most damage. He needed to get his old wand back, the holly and phoenix feather but he wasn't sure how. Perhaps he should buy another wand from Olivander's. The wand chooses the wizard – had Merlin's wand chosen him?

But how had it gotten in the White mansion in the first place? As his mind revolved around this, he thought he hit up on a good hypothesis: originally the White family must have been a staunch supporter of the light, so perhaps it was not so far off to believe that they had Merlin's wand in their possession. Then why put it in an empty room for them to find?

Harry froze on his broom as the solution hit him like thunder. Of course! The room looked empty to other people, but it was hiding Merlin's wand, because the wand hadn't chosen the right wizard yet. And then when Harry entered the room, the wand drew him toward itself, because the wand had chosen Harry. That's why it felt so good to wave the wand around the first time he had touched it, because it felt like coming home. It felt like a mother's embrace: unconditional love.

Harry looked at the wand in a new light. It had chosen Harry. But… why? Why me, he thought, confused, though he wasn't complaining. I've killed, I've tortured, I've done a couple dark rituals. I'm not a light supporter; I'm more on the grey side… Not completely descended into darkness… just treading on the line.

Maybe that's why. Maybe the wand wanted to influence Harry to come on the light side again. Slowly the wand would start manipulating him; soon it would probably stop working for grey spells. Then only light spells would work. Harry knew of course that although the light side needed strength and willpower in extreme amounts (or it wasn't as powerful unlike dark magic), the light could work wonderfully as well.

Dumbledore was proof. Harry had read about him in his biography – the old wizard had taken an oath when he was younger that he would never do dark magic in his life. Ever. A magical oath! If he broke it, he would lose his magic and his life. But you had to have enormous strength to turn away from the dark and follow the light path solely. It wasn't powerful – not immediately – and it was not rewarding unless you reached the ultimate levels.

The path toward the light was a path toward God. And one had to undergo a lot of heat to transform and transcend limitations, desires, and frustrations: too much pain, too much work. Harry got to thinking, if he chose the path toward the light; he would have a much simpler and easier life. He could enjoy himself more often. He could rest, and enjoy the simple things in life. Good friends, lemon drops: Dumbledore's favorite candy, famous throughout the wizarding world. There was even a company called Dumbledore Favorites that produced lemon drops. It was funded entirely by Albus Dumbledore and its sole job was to produce lemon drops at a startlingly fast rate as the old light wizard consumed them at light speed. (Pun intended)

Harry sighed and shook his head. What was he thinking? Power was everything and if he didn't have power, who was he as a person: a good for nothing nobody. No, he couldn't let this wand influence him like that. He would use whatever tools came to him to get ahead, to get what he wanted in life. Yet that nagging voice in the back of his mind still told him he would be so much happier if he would join the light completely.

Harry thought he knew where this was coming from. The wand was influencing him! He wondered if he showed simply chuck it into a river or something. But he couldn't, or else he would be defenseless. At this rate however, before the summer was over he just might take a vow ala Albus Dumbledore. He definitely did not want to take a constricting magical oath like the one Albus had taken in his early 20s.

The wounds on his face weren't exactly healing. They had scabbed over and would probably leave ugly scars that wouldn't make good dinner conversation later in life but would be an interesting and peculiar thing anyways. They were red and tender and whenever he touched it – which was often, he liked touching his wounds, he sort of felt pride in them like they were old war wounds – they broke out and started bleeding. It hurt like hell itself. But he had recovered from the crucatius curse at least. Having that cast on him at his small tender age was not good for his physical growth.

However there was a growing body of (dark) research that said the unforgivable pain curse cast upon a youngster would increase his magical core and thus make him stronger. Harry hoped it was true. He tested it by casting a heating charm over himself as night descended upon the sky. His skin tingled pleasantly. He wondered if he should continue his journey to London on this aged and barely working broom that apparently went less than ten miles an hour. Less than five even. He could walk faster than this! His body was too exhausted for that sort of journey or else he would have done it too. He needed some sleep and rest. Looking on the ground below for a campsite all he saw was a dismal forest of oak and scymore trees. There were probably bears down there too. Just his luck.

He floated downward in search of shelter and found a rock outcropping he saw would give him some measure of shelter. It started to rain terribly hard, all of a sudden. Wind howled through the trees and grey clouds covered the silver tint of a full moon. He heard an animal's voice grunting and he froze, straining his ears to hear more. Nothing. He definitely did not feel comfortable here. But he was tired, his eyelids felt heavy from exhaustion and he needed rest to heal his wounds. His leg hurt terribly (so he couldn't walk, he would have to rely on the ancient broom after all) and his broken nose still broke out in waves of blood from time to time. Also he was hungry and completely exhausted. If a bear or a wolf attacked him he probably wouldn't be able to defend himself.

He used Merlin's Wand (he couldn't think of it as his own anymore considering he thought the wand was trying to manipulate him into joining the light side) to light a fire and conjure a blanket. He slept the night in a deep, restful sleep with no dreams or tossing and turning like he usually had. He strengthened his occlumency shields as he drifted off, repeating, "Shayum, shayum, shayum…" It felt relaxing to meditate like this. When he woke up he found that he was still going on, "Shayum, shayum, shayum…"

Perhaps this mantra thing really worked, he thought, I've had the best sleep of my life. Maybe I should get hurt more often dueling dangerous assassins who want to kidnap me and deliver me to some rich pureblood fool. As he opened his eyes he groaned in pain. Everything in his body hurt. And not just the old wounds, but mosquito bites too! Lots of them. On his face, arms, legs, back, neck… little red boils that itched and annoyed him terribly. Life just couldn't get any better…

He conjured a splint for his leg and put a numbing charm on it to keep it from hurting too much. He didn't need distractions on his look out for food. As he walked he heard birds whistling happily and trees shuddering in pleasure from a soft gentle caress of a cool breeze that smelt oceanic. He got on his broom and ascended into the air, wondering why he hadn't risked taking the Nimbus located downstairs in the living room. Then he wondered if Renaud would try to follow him on the nimbus. Why hadn't he? Harry thought. He probably saw it as it was leaning against the patio door leading to the backyard. Well, he was thankful Renaud hadn't. That would allow him to recuperate.

He saw a rabbit chasing another rabbit as they ran almost snake like through the trees, zigzagging between tree trunks and bushes and piles of fallen orange leaves. The world was shining beautifully from the sunlight but Harry did not enjoy it. He was in too much pain for that. Harry raced down toward the rabbits, pushing his broom as far as it would go. The broom hummed and vibrated and made funny noises but – mind over matter – Harry's will prevailed. He reached down on the rabbits with his wand and conjured a noose that hung at the end of Merlin's Wand. Thank god this wasn't (too dark) magic. So what if he used it for killing. It wasn't dark right? Besides, he was hungry and he wanted two fat rabbits to eat!

He pulled up when he caught the rabbit's neck in the noose and watched dispassionately as the rabbit kicked and struggled to get out. Soon, it had broken it's neck and was dead. Harry let the rabbit drop to the ground and chased after the second one, who hadn't seen the first one die. Same thing, except the rabbit got wind of his scent as he was traveling downwind and raced into a little rabbit hole. Harry sighed and went back to fetch the rabbit he had hunted down so mercilessly.

He went back to his campsite and lit the fire again. He levitated the rabbit over the fire and held it there (it didn't take too much magic and was good for concentration) letting it burn slowly. He smelt burning hair and wrinkled his nose in disgust. Taking the rabbit away from the fire, he cast a severing charm to skin the rabbit. It was a bit of work but his stomach was growling and his mouth was drooling. Then he went back to roasting the rabbit over the fire using a conjured ramrod, which he had stuck up the rabbit's ass and through his mouth using it as a spit. Using magic to rotate it, he rested his back against the moss that grew on the rock outcropping and let his eyes drifted in relaxation and pleasure.

Life was painful and it hurt sometimes, and you didn't always get things done your way. But all in all, life wasn't bad, Harry thought. He looked hard at himself and saw that he was changing. Once he had been White's dark little pet, but now he was his own persona. He was a valuable human being and he owned himself one hundred percent. Nobody had control or authority over him. He was an authority over his own self so he could do what he wanted.

After he finished his meal, feeling full, happy, and relaxed, he climbed atop his broom and resumed his trek toward London. He passed over the city, hearing honks and the babbling of numerous voices. Before he had been passing over the rural countryside. Now, at the outskirts of the cities, but still not quite at London. He had over a hundred miles to go. He flew down and climbed off his broom. Casting a shrinking charm over his broom he put it in his jeans pocket and thought up a good plan. He could get to London via muggle ways, aka using the taxi. But he needed money for that and the best way to get money was to rob people.

A man in a blue business suit carrying a black leather valise passed by him hurriedly, almost knocking him over. Harry growled in distaste and then suddenly an idea struck him. He pointed his wand at the businessman's back and casted, "Imperio." This was a test to see if Merlin's Wand would work for such a spell. The businessman stiffened and stopped abruptly.

"Turn around," Harry said, pocketing his wand. The man turned, his brown eyes glazed and watery. Harry was surprised to find that the imperio spell worked. Did that mean the spell wasn't dark? Harry felt laughter bubbling inside him, an unforgivable that was not dark! The irony!

"Call a cab," ordered Harry calmly and walked over to the business man so they stood side by side. "Show me your wallet."

Jack Burns had about two hundred pounds cash on his person. That was a lot of money, thought Harry, to be carrying around. He had hit the jackpot. Jack pulled out a cell phone and dialed some numbers. He put it to his ear and said, "Yeah I'd like a cab at 21st avenue, yeah five minutes is fine." Then he hung up.

A yellow cab rolled to a stop in front of them. "Get in," Harry said and followed Jack into the cab.

The interior smelt like the clean smell of air conditioning and sweet herbal perfume. The driver was a Sikh; he wore a white turban and had a long grey beard and mustache and dark proud warrior eyes. "Where would you like to go?" he said in an accented voice.

"Take us to London," Harry said. Jack nodded and repeated what Harry said in an easy and relaxed manner.

"As you wish," said the driver and took off, stepping hard onto the gas pedal. The car roared away.

Harry got off out the cab in front of the Leaky Cauldron and ordered Jack to pay the man and get out as well. The fare came to thirty pounds. Jack gave Harry the rest of the money inside his wallet on the young boy's command. Then Harry ordered Jack to walk on home. He felt a little guilty about doing something so cruel to the man but he squashed it at once and said to himself angrily, "Stop getting soft on me, Potter!"

He was about to walk inside the Leaky Cauldron when he remembered (thanks to his angry shouting at himself) that he was Harry Potter, the boy who lived, the famous hero of the magical world. He had to disguise himself. His scar at least. He conjured a hat and waved his wand over his eyes, turning it blue. Then, pocketing the wand he entered with a deep breath.

Inside, the café was dark and damp and smelled like beer and fried burgers covered in the distinct smell of Earl Grey tea. People were babbling to each other, which on the whole, sounded like a concert symphony. The voice of the crowd, Harry noticed detachedly, had a remarkable harmony of its own. Although he wasn't a lover of classical music and Beethoven and Mozart like Mr. White, he did pick up a few things from Mr. White's endless drunken lectures about the finer points of music.

He walked up to the owner who was wiping coffee cups – not the paper kinds which were stacked on the counter toward the side, the white ones that nobody used, but rather the ceramic ones – with a pink fluffy towel. "Sir, I need help."

The man looked up and his eyes crinkled in joy. He beamed at Harry and said, "Muggleborn are ya? Mah name's Tom, short for Thomas, how can I be o' service to yer?"

"I need to get to Diagon Alley," Harry said in precise tones, slightly disguising his voice to a higher smoother baritone. "But I'm not sure how."

Tom nodded and scratched the 9 o'clock shadow growing on his face. "I reckon you'd have to go down the back. Here I'll show you the combination to get through the red wall to our world."

Harry followed Tom into a back alley. At the end, there was a red bricked wall. Tom showed Harry which bricks to tap with his wand when he got one and did it for him. The red bricked wall opened up to reveal Diagon Alley. Since Tom was carefully watching his face, Harry imitated surprise and awe. Tom grinned brightly. "Alright there, here you go."

"Thanks," Harry said and walked quickly, hearing Tom chuckling behind him. He walked straight ahead, with about a hundred and seventy pounds in his pocket. He could get galleons from Gringotts. He didn't have his Hogwarts letter, but he had memorized most of it so he could get the textbooks he required. At first he didn't want to, as he knew everything but he also did not want to appear too suspicious.

He ascended the white marble steps of Gringotts and walked into the bank. Red carpets on the floor and a milky colour of paint overlaying on the walls made Gringotts seem… safe. An inscription lay atop the entrance on a golden plaque. Harry read it quickly with barely a glance and entered premiere bank of the magical world. He waited in line at a teller, and when it was his turn, he told the goblin sitting behind the desk that he wanted to exchange muggle pounds for galleons.

"That will be five pounds a galleon, flat rates. Take it or leave it," the goblin said in fixed tones. Harry accepted this at face value and gave him all the muggle money he had in his pocket. He got back thirty four galleons, shiny gold coins with a latin inscription on the bottom of a robed wizard with an owl clutched on his hand that translated into: "Official Money for British Wizarding"

Harry calculated that he would have enough money for his wands, robe, and potion ingredients. No money for textbooks. He didn't mind that much because he was a natural genius so he could get by. It would look pretty cool to be really smart as well, very noticeable. Harry didn't particularly care for the attention because he wouldn't be able to do things that would be considered sneaky and illicit or illegal.

He would have too much attention upon himself to get away with many things. Too many people would notice his facial features, his every change and movement and then he would get predictable. When you watch a person for a long time you can predict his next moves easily as well as what he is doing or thinking and going through emotionally. It's all in the unconscious movement of your fingers and eyes. You can't control them unless you specifically pay a lot of attention to them.

He walked zestfully down Diagon Alley, keeping his head down. Nobody could see his scar because of his hat so he didn't attract much notice. He entered Olivander's, and saw the old man with the half moon glasses and sharp electric eyes. "Why what do we have here?" He said, and then frowned slightly. But it passed. "Harry Potter, I was expecting you," he said.

"I need a wand," Harry explained, hoping Olivander didn't remember. Hadn't White blocked out his memory or something.

"Of course, don't we all?" He said, almost mockingly as if… as if… Harry's heart froze in his chest. He knew! The old man knew all about him. But what would he do. Apparently nothing. Olivander went into the back, ruffling around a few boxes, and then came out holding a wooden box very carefully.

"This is our latest shipment from Fuenshji, the wand shop in China. This wand is a really new product even though it's core is ancient. The core is made out of a magical sea creature thought extinct for ages. It's made out of the bone of a creature that existed in the dinosaur era. I think this will really suit you."

Olivander opened the box, showing a pale wooden wand that had a slightly greenish tinge to the wood. "The wood is bamboo, but a strain of which I have never seen before. Perhaps a cross with some other type of wood. The Chinese are very innovative and intuitive magicians."

Harry grabbed the wand and gave it a wave. He felt a jet of heat rushed from his belly upward to his head and over his entire body. Sparks flew out of the wand twelve meters into the air, knocking over several shelves.

Harry was unconcerned because as he waved it again, letting green and black sparks out, he thought he finally found his home. "I like it," Harry said, almost out of breath. "How much?"

"This is a relatively new wand for testing purposes. I'm glad you like it Harry. As it is for testing purposes I don't think I'll charge you a single sickle on it but I do want you to send me monthly reports of how this wand is working out for you." Olivander said, smiling thinly. His electric eyes shimmered with hidden cunning.

"That's it?" asked Harry, surprised. "How kind of you," he murmured and then nodding, he walked out the door. That was… strange. Still, grabbing the new wand tightly in his hand he thought he found the perfect partner.

The wand had a dark aura to it just as Merlin's wand had a lighter aura to it. This wand would be perfect for dark magic just as Merlin's wand would be perfect for light magic. It was funny how the universe balanced itself out trying to achieve equilibrium.

As he walked on to Madame Malkin's robe shop, he thought of an idea. He could always get more money from the muggle world, just using imperio on rich people. That would be easy enough but on the off chance that he might get caught…wait, wasn't the imperio impossible to track down. Yeah… it was.

His heart was filled with excitement and his footsteps skipped a beat. He had a free source of money to buy books and supplies and live in the muggle world indefinitely. He didn't need the White mansion. That was so big of a target. Hiding in the muggle world he could escape under the surveillance of wizard assassins who were bent on capturing the boy who lived.

He entered Madame Malkin's, and ordered a set of Hogwarts robes. She measured and fitted him detachedly as if she were bored, and once Harry got his robes he found he only had a few more galleons left. He stopped at Lévesque's ice cream shop and ordered a vanilla toffee cone. It was scrumptious! Then he went to the Quidditch shop. Though he might be a dark genius who knew a vast array of spells and techniques to kill and maim he was still boyish in heart and he loved quidditch more than anything in the world. He looked at the Nimbus 2000 in pure greed and envy, wishing he could procure it for himself. With only a few galleons left he was going through a boyish crisis.

Should he get a book, or get a little toy from this Quidditch shop? In the end, the boyish childish part of him won over and he bought a golden snitch. He watched it fly a little bit away from him and then as fast as a cobra striking he captured it in his hands. He was happy with this little toy. He explored the shop a bit more and then headed down Diagon alley to the bookstore. He didn't buy anything. He just surfed through the bookshelves for a few hours, reading snippets of this and that. He was surprised to find that he knew some of these books – he had read some of them before. But there were so many he hadn't had a chance to read. As he walked out, he caught eyes with the blonde clerk. He decided to put his legilimency skills to use, and caught the periphery of her thoughts.

"God, what an ugly kid! Look, his nose his broken and he's walking funny. He looks so dirty like some sort of homeless bum. I wonder if most muggleborns are this way before they get to the magical world. So disgusting… Ugh, the claw marks on his face are just-"

Harry felt his face heating up as he realized just how horrible he looked. He walked out of the shop with his head parallel to the ground. Once he was outside, he used Merlin's Wand (he liked that wand) to freshen himself up.

He sprayed a bit of water over his features and applied a glamour charm to make himself look a little bit more normal. Then he found himself at the entrance to Knockturne Alley. He decided to save this part of his exploration for another day and instead headed out Diagon Alley and through the back alley of the Leaky Cauldron.

He walked aimlessly down the muggle streets, his thoughts intent upon Hogwarts. He was surprised to find that he was worried over how the other children would think of him What if… and this thought really scared him… the children were as smart and talented as himself? What if he wasn't special or anything, but just normal on the scale of wizarding children? Considering he could put up a good fight with grown wizards he tried to let go of this thought process but he could not. The fight with Renaud had shaken his confidence in himself.

He wandered over to a public library, which he entered. He was slightly surprised to find the vast array of muggle books waiting for him. Of course he went straight to the non-fiction section, considering that fiction was beneath him and completely useless. He started reading with frenzy.

First he read a book about snakes, taken randomly from the shelf. As he stared at a frozen picture (which he thought strange considering he had grown up in a wizard's house) of a python wrapped around a branch somewhere in the Amazon he found that he had a slight headache. His scar started burning, and he found himself talking. Whispering. Strange noises like hisses came out of his mouth. He was speaking parseltongue. He could not show that talent to other wizards or they would brand him as evil at once. He looked around wondering if anybody else had heard him talking like this.

After spending most of the day reading, he found his thirst for knowledge had only increased. It was like an annoying itch he couldn't scratch at. Luckily he could (he just wouldn't because he had some common sense) scratch at mosquito bites. He walked out of the library around closing time, at 5, and was extremely hungry. His robes were shrunk down to the size of the snitch and in his pocket as was his broom so he didn't have to carry anything.

He walked down London until he saw an old woman in a purple dress walking down the street. Perfect target he thought and surreptitiously used the imperio curse on her. He was worried at how flippantly he was using this unforgivable, but he needed the money. He was just an eleven year old kid in a cold harsh dog eat dog world and he needed to take what he could get.

The woman gave up her purse, which contained a black leather woman's wallet containing six hundred pounds in bills rolled up with a red rubber band. Harry took it, wondering if this was her paycheck. "You've lived long in this world and you've probably been in tougher situations," he told her. "So you'll be alright."

He didn't take the curse completely off her. He did leave her with a final order. "Just be happy." Her face brightened immediately and a gleam of artificial pleasure entered her soft eyes.

Taking the money he found he did not feel elation as he had expected. Instead he felt sorrow and guilt at ruining the life of an old woman like her. He found to his surprise he was starting to hate himself.

After eating a good dinner of fish and chips and a can of coke, he went to a nearby motel with a big 8 sign on a yellow billboard. Renting a room for the night cost fifty pounds. He slept uneasily. The old woman's wrinkled face and black eyes crinkled under the weight of the world kept entering his dreams.

Waking up in the morning he went downstairs for a free breakfast: cup of coffee and doughnuts, and walked to the library. He lost himself in books for a few hours and then when he was bored, he went down Diagon Alley. Going into the same bookshop, he decided to buy the first year books. He had the money after all. And he didn't want to look suspicious.

Shrinking them, he carried them in his pocket and headed down into the Muggle world, in a mall, where he bought a few extra pairs of clothing. Two pairs of jeans and plain gray tee shirts. They were the cheapest available. Harry felt frugal. He didn't want to use the old woman's money. The thought of returning it to her kept entering his mind and he was disturbed by this innocent 'light' thought. Was Merlin's Wand doing this or was it his own inner conscience?

In this way he spent the rest of the summer, between reading at the library to fulfill his thirst for knowledge, staring aimlessly at the wall for brief periods in a state of utter depression and sometimes playing with the golden snitch. He ran out of money half way and had to rob another rich looking muggle. He did not take any joy in it.

Soon September arrived bringing along with it a slightly cold tinge to the warm summer breeze, as if it were warning Harry that winter is coming. It poured the night before Harry was scheduled to depart on the Hogwarts train.

He had bought his ticket from a store in Diagon alley. He packed his things in a conjured trunk, and waited and waited, unable to sleep. He kept the light on and read through his entire first year textbooks with practiced ease. When he got halfway through his potions textbook he realized his problem. He was lonely.

The next morning, after a delicious breakfast of ice cream and coffee, he bought a pack of gum from the counter of the motel he was staying in and headed off to the train station via a taxi cab. Entering the station he began to look around for platform nine and three quarters.

He found nine and ten and it did not take too long to deduce that nine and three quarters must be that red wall over there where all the funny dressed people were passing through. He walked toward the wall and closed his eyes, feeling a shimmer go up and down his entire body. He passed through the wall and beheld a red train with shiny metal doors and black wheels. It looked magnificent.

Entering the train, he found himself a compartment and began playing with the new wand he had bought at Olivander's. He ran through all the first year spells as quickly as possible for a warm up. They were supremely easy. He moved on to his own list of spells of the next level when the compartment door opened. He stopped casting magic and looked warily at the stranger.

The boy was about Harry's age with shiny blond locks of hair and grey eyes, staring at Harry as if he were no more than an insect. Harry was conscious of the cap he had on, and the fact that his scar was hidden away beneath it.

"I'm Draco Malfoy," the blond introduced himself and held out a pale hand. Harry was extremely amused inside at what he had done to the Malfoy family just recently. He shook the boy's hand, smirking slightly. "And you are?"

Harry contemplated whether he should give his real name or an alias, and deciding he didn't want the attention he chose the latter option. "Jason," he lied. "I'm a muggle born."

Draco's nose wrinkled, "I see," he said somewhat distastefully, but he had some semblance of politeness to his being. He continued, "What house will you be in? I hope I'm in Slytherin, my family – they are pureblood you know – have been in Slytherin for ages."

"I'd be lucky if I could get to Hufflepuff," Harry said, pretending to play the character of the doofus. "I'm pretty hard working and loyal."

Draco snorted, "You won't get ahead in life if you're in that house. My father told me that Hufflepuff was filled with people with no ambition."

Harry shrugged, "I'm not that ambitious I guess. I just want to be happy and enjoy life." That much was true enough. Harry just needed to be powerful too.

"Well, good luck I suppose," Draco said coldly and got out, hauling his trunk with him. Harry sneakily put a heavy weight charm on the trunk to make Draco's life more uncomfortable. He hated the blonde aristocratic boy.

He closed his eyes and slowed down his breathing as the train rocked and started up. He heard rain tapping on the metal roof and the windows as the train journeyed to Hogwarts. Meditating, he tried to concentrate past his injuries, which were still bothering him, though only slightly. His leg was a particularly nasty problem but he kept numbing charms on it. The broken leg held together by a wooden splint felt dead, and not a part of him, like a peg leg. The gashes on his face was healing nicely enough, so all in all, Harry felt pretty much okay.

The trolley cart lady came knocking on the compartment door and Harry brought a few chocolate frogs. He was up for a bit of a snack. As he ate them, his mind traveled to the question Draco had asked him. What house would he get sorted into? Your house was supposed to determine your personality. Well, what sort of personality did Harry have? He was ambitious, hard working, had a great thirst for knowledge, and was brave and courageous as well. Couldn't he fit into all four of the houses?

I'll leave it to the sorting hat to decide, Harry said to himself and drifted off into a restful nap unbroken for a long stretch. He awoke to the whistling of a horn that announced the train had reached it's stop.

Harry got out of the compartment and was faced with a great black lake. He heard a voice – Hagrid – saying, "First years! First years!" Harry walked over toward the half giant and put a glamour on his features. Hagrid had probably been looking for Harry all summer and would be mighty annoyed when he saw Harry. Plus, he didn't want to attract attention. He would get that at the sorting ceremony.

Harry got onto a boat with Malfoy and two thugs named Crabbe and Goyle. The three of them ignored him much of the way, talking about Hogwarts and ghosts and the sorting ceremony.

"Alright, here's Hogwarts!" Hagrid shouted. He was sitting in another boat and watched the student's expressions carefully. He was not disappointed.

When Harry caught sight of the mighty castle with it's tall grey spires stretching into the star filled sky as well as it's large oak wood doors and the towers, he felt a sudden awe and amazement. He felt a burst of excitement just waiting to be unleashed and before he could catch himself, he said aloud, "That's amazing!"

Harry had never seen something so beautiful in real life (he had seen a picture of Hogwarts on the cover of Hogwarts: A History), and it turned out that neither had Draco nor his two cronies.

Once they got off onto the other side the boats magically rowed themselves back across the lake. Hagrid led them inside the castles where the paintings moved and spoke and several ghosts floated by. A tall woman with black hair tied tightly in a bun entered the chamber they were in.

"My name is professor McGonnagall and you're going to be sorted into…" Harry tuned her out, and instead mentally repeated Shayum Shayum Shayum to calm himself down. He took deep breaths, telling himself not to be scared. But he couldn't help it. He found it discerning that he was just as excited as the rest of the eleven year olds and a cold feeling gripped the bottom of his stomach as he realized that he was no better than them either.

Sure he might be more skillful and smarter but in reality, everybody was equal regardless. This feeling was an enlightening moment lasting barely a second but it left Harry disgruntled and annoyed. It's okay Harry, he thought, you can be scared. You can let yourself be an eleven year old like you truly are. He let out a small sigh, and felt a tight ball of tension unloosening from his body.

The students were filing into the great hall one by one. Harry saw a giant see through dome above that looked like the ceiling as well as hundreds of candles floating magically up in the air. He heard some bushy haired girl say something about reading this in Hogwarts: A History. His attention was far more focused on the teachers, as he filed each of them away in his memory. His eyes drifted toward Albus Dumbledore, the man he had come to kill… but now he wasn't so sure if he wanted to. He couldn't explain it to himself, but he had changed slightly. He blamed it on Merlin's Wand, and felt it resting against his calf where he always kept it. The wand he had bought in Diagon alley he had put in his pocket.

The Sorting Hat sang a song. It went like this:

"I may not be the best looking hat,

Or the most fashionable, no indeed,

But I doubt you'll find a smarter hat than me!

Brave Gryffindor filled with hard headed fools and

Where valour and glory rules,

Ravenclaws, noses stuck in books,

Seeking knowledge above looks,

Slytherin where the cunning snakes do lie,

Ready to strike, never ready to die,

Hufflepuff the loyal sort,

Filled with hard working industrious cohorts.

Oh which house to sort you children in,

A place where you'll grow up to be good and bright,

And not run to your mommies at night!

Come on then children don't be shy,

No need to worry, no need to cry.

For I'm the Sorting Hat, been so for too long,

I'll put you where you truly belong!"

The strict looking teacher pulled out a roll of parchment and started calling students one by one to be sorted by an ancient relic of a hat. Harry waited for his turn. It came soon enough and it startled him because as soon as McGonnagall called out his name whispering broke out among the students. Sighing, Harry took off his own cap and walked toward the stool. He put on the Sorting Hat and waited in darkness.

"Well well, what do we have here Mr. Potter? My, you've had a dark history full of evil and triumph and… oh… you have cast dark magic as well. Hmm… I sense a bit of dilemma inside you, good and evil fighting against each other, a moral battle… Where to put you…?"

"Anything," answered Harry, "Anything that makes me happy."

"Happiness, hmm? The much looked for treasure that hardly anybody finds. But you are ambitious as well, so ambitious, such a lust for power and respect. You have a great thirst to prove yourself. And you are courageous too. I think the best place to put you in would be…"

The hat shouted out its answer to the Great Hall, and Harry reluctantly took off the Sorting Hat and went to take his seat.

There was no twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes as he stared down at the Boy Who Lived.

AN: By chapter 19 we'll be about finished with first year and move on. So only seven more chapters to go. As such you can be sure to expect longer and longer chapters! I think I'll keep up with the 7k-word chapter basis from now on because it allows me to really flesh out the scenes and give more intricate detail. This makes the story richer and builds better imagery. Anyways enough with my rambling, enjoy the (long) chapter, and please please please leave a review with your opinions of where this story should go. Not only are they super encouraging but they also influence the direction of this story. I'm basically writing this story with NO outline other than the one in the first chapter, so if I get stuck for ideas, I can look to the reviews to help me out.

Two things: what house will Harry be sorted into? I want good reasons for this. I'm thinking of Slytherin but I feel it's a bit too cliché and I want to AVOID clichés. So far I think I've been pretty original (as original as you can be in fan fiction anyways) with this story. However I'm willing to accept popular opinion so if you want HP to be in the house of snakes I'm all for it.

And the second thing, will Harry become an animagus like his father? If so, what animal? I know it's going a bit on the cliché side but lately I haven't seen it used too often. I definitely want him to become more powerful. So I need an original animal to turn him into. NO SUPER URBER MAGICAL CREATURES! Any ideas? I was thinking of these four:

1. Eagle (flap flap flap)

2. Squirrel (he'll steal your nuts!)

3. Shark (totally cool but useless)

4. Elephant (this would be pretty hilarious I think)

Remember to review guys. I especially love LONG reviews, but whatever, a note of encouragement is good enough too.