Disclaimer: I do not own, nor do I claim ownership of anything that I write about which is previously claimed by J.K. Rowling. I am writing this piece of fiction solely for the purpose of writing and am gaining nothing from this in the way of compensation.

Thank you for all that Reviewed/Favorited/Followed since the last chapter was released. I would also like to apologize to those who care that I was a week late when posting. There are personal reasons behind that, but they are resolved and my previously chosen schedule shall be implemented from now on. Again, I apologize.

-Parseltongue-

Sorting Hat speaking

Harry exited the train among the thrall of students, bunched together in pre-formed cliques as would be expected of their age. Nagini had wrapped herself around his torso quite a few times to conceal her presence before taking a nap, her weight a non-issue thanks to a slightly overpowered feather-light charm, so as to not get trampled by the unaware feet of passers-by. The air was just as chilled as it was at the manor, Scotland's Autumn weather cooling quickly towards the end of Summer and into the new season.

He hastily made himself a part of the movement of bodies, watching his elders as they boarded carriages drawn by Thestrals, supposedly the only tamed herd of the frightening equine beings in the world, as none knew of the large group at the Sanctuary. Though he wasn't surprised to hear some of his fellow first years excited and curious whispers at the seemingly automated carriages, knowing that very few people his age could see the true reason for their movement. Oddly enough, he didn't see them from the death of his mother when he was a child, the young mind unable to comprehend death in such a way as to make them visible, but it was his connection to the other side of the Veil through the Peverells that cleared his gaze.

"Firs' years! Come alon' now, this way! Firs' years!" A booming, heavily accented voice called from a dark path.

He turned, searching for the speaker, who appeared from the night as a giant spectre, frightening some of those around him. He took in the rough appearance of who could only be Hagrid, the groundskeeper of the school, who despite appearances had a, giant, grin on his face as he took in all of them beneath his high gaze. He mentally smacked himself for the pun.

"This way! Now watch yer step there, don' wanna end up in a pile now do ya'? He turned and began down the, at a glance, harrowing path filled with wet cobblestones and no lights save a larger than normal oil lamp held in the giant's grip.

Harry ended up making his way beside his target and the Longbottom heir, sharing a sidelong glance with the witch as Neville stumbled around with all the grace of a frequent bar patron. He raised an eyebrow in slight humor as he was nearly dragged down by some boy on his right side, Target, as he decided to call her until he knew her name, muffling slightly hysterical giggles from his left where Neville pulled a mimicked performance on her. He snorted and her giggles burst out, causing some attention to be drawn to them. He internally grinned at interacting with someone so easily when his only company and conversation for most of his life had been snakes, Nagini, Click, and the few patrons of the Alley he had spoken to during his occasional trips. He'd imagined it would be terribly awkward, but he seemed to be doing fine so far, lack of actual speaking non-standing.

They came around a bend in the path, appearing before a massive body of water, a loche, still water giving off the impression of obsidian glass under the night sky. A row of small boats aligned the shore, which Hagrid told them to enter with no more than four people per. He sat with Target, Longbottom, and a boy with dark skin, short black hair, and vibrant purple eyes, almost a dark shade of violet. The boy was a mystery to him, not bearing an heir ring to identify him while choosing to remain silent.

Hagrid called for any stragglers that had not found a seat yet before the boats set off under the force of some type of enchantment, he assumed. There was definitely magic involved in the way the water showed nary a ripple as they travelled around a forested bend to look upon the whole of the lake.

Stunning

The first view he had of the castle was something out of Van-Gogh he was sure, with the swirling colors and stars of the night sky acting as the backdrop to the visage of a massive, ancient castle whose windows were filled with the flickering light of hundreds, if not thousands of candles. He heard Target gasp in what he assumed was astonishment, reverent silence coming from him and the two other boys. He tore his gaze from the awe inspiring image to look around the other boats and his fellow first years. Most held the same look as Target, but others held the stoic appreciation of the dark-skinned boy, meaning they were probably the ones raised in a wizarding home and taught the pureblood etiquette. Though it was oddly funny seeing the conflicted looks on many of them, meaning they were having trouble with their training.

He was broken from his musings by Hagrid yelling to duck their heads as they came upon an opening in a rock face, ivy hanging like a veil before it. He, as everyone else, bowed their heads as the excitement mounted higher. The boats came to a rest upon a slippery platform, seeming to stabilize to allow them access to the school. Hagrid made sure they were all out of the boats before said modes of transportation sunk back into the water, probably returning to where they were found initially.

They mable steps were crowded as everyone tried to make it to the front of the line, hoping to be the first to gain a glance of the interior. He hung back, neither wishing nor willing to be cramped and trampled upon by over-excited children, the fact that they were his age being completely ignored. Target seemed to have the same idea and hauled Neville back towards him, offering a shy which he returned with more confidence.

They came upon a door, taller than any other door he'd seen before, and Hagrid used his oversized fist to knock thrice, leaving a lingering echo within the stone hewn stairwell. It was promptly opened to reveal the tartan-clad Professor McGonagall, giving a sweeping glance with her sharp eyes. They landed on him before they softened somewhat, making her previously harsh demeanor become something more matronly, as one might see in a pre-school. She regained herself almost instantly though, speaking up.

"Thank you for your assistance, Hagrid. I shall lead them from here." Prim and proper as he remembered.

Hagrid nodded, thanking her before he lumbered off into the hall, quickly leaving sight. McGonagall led them through a long hall that ended by a grand set of carved wooden doors, sounds coming from behind it belying it as the area holding a majority of the students who had left earlier. She guided them a little farther until they entered into a large antechamber. She turned to us when we had all entered the room, speaking in a formal tone held by all teachers.

"Greetings students. I am Professor McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress, Transfiguration Professor, and Head of Gryffindor House. I would like to welcome you all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. We shall enter the Great Hall momentarily to begin the sorting ceremony."

Her eyes sharpened some more, meaning business. "You shall be sorted into one of four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. All four houses hold a grand and rich history, so accept your placement with honor. That house will become your home, the students your family as the years pass by. Smarten yourselves while I check to see if they are ready for you."

She turned and left us all alone after that, possibly not the best idea with a group of prejudiced pre-teens. Malfoy was standing with Crabbe and Goyle flanking him, like servants to a master, and he was sneering at everyone he could, possibly in an attempt of intimidation. He was a bit too young and baby-faced to have an effective glare. Ron Weasley was looking at him with the same expression that he would imagine someone else would look at a Nundu, just waiting for their demise like it was imminent. He snorted, bringing to himself the attention of his companions.

Longbottom looked at me with caution, before he shyly held out a lightly shaking hand, bowing his head slightly. He took the hand in mild surprise at the unexpected confidence of the timid boy, holding it but not shaking as was expected.

"I-I apologize for ins-s-sulting you..." he trailed off, waiting for him to announce himself. They had gained some attention from those surrounding us, including some of the Death Eater children and other heirs in attendance.

"Harrison, Heir Gaunt, Heir Peverell." Four things happened at that statement. The other heirs and D.E. children looked interested at the listing of two titles, Longbottom's eyes widened in shock, Target gained a gleam in her eye, and...

The magic of the castle raised to tremendous heights, pressing down on everyone in the school. The teachers recalled what had happened before the students arrived, preparing for anything as they drew their wands, the students in the Great Hall fell silent as it became slightly hard to breath, and the students in the ante-chamber gasped and shrieked as the magic swelled around them heavily.

Harry felt the familiar magic of his family intertwined with three other distinctive magics, wrapping around him in a slightly-frantic manner, searching it seemed. His magic left his body on its own accord, completely out of his control, mingling with the heavy dose of family magic that still lingered from Salazar and Godric and all previous heirs who lived here. He gasped in wonder at the ancient feel and pure power that ran through him as the magic left him, only present in the content hum he could feel and almost hear in the back of his mind.

The other students had been too disoriented to notice the strange occurrence, so they only barely noticed the sound of rushed clicks of heels on stone as Professor McGonagall re-appeared before them, her eyes darting over everyone in an attempt to locate any abnormalities or injuries. She seemed relieved when her eyes landed in his general direction and found no difference in anyone in the area. She cleared her throat to gain their attention.

"Students! There is no cause for alarm, as what you just felt was somewhat expected, though not that intense." She sounded mildly annoyed "Everything is settled now, so follow me."

They followed, his small group included. Longbottom seemed to forget what they were doing before the occurrence, but Target did not it seemed, if the little victorious smirk on her mouth and the curious gleam in her eye was anything to go by. He was also slightly uncomfortable as Nagini kept shifting her weight in agitation at her abrupt awakening, as when the Gaunt magic had touched young Tom Riddle all those years ago, it had not created such a powerful sensation. Apparently the other three magics that came along for the ride this time around had been absent along with the Peverell magic, if her muttered and agitated hisses were to go by. He had to pinch her a bit when they became too loud, and others began to hear her. He swore he almost saw Longbottom's hand twitch.

As they grouped outside the doors that he had noted previously, he noticed that there was a curious lack of noise coming from the hall unlike earlier. He didn't give it much more though as the grand doors opened to allow him his first glimpse of the famous room. The stories he had read of did not disappoint as everything seemed as magnificent as he had imagined. Candles floating in large number gave a glowing ambiance that seemed to mystify his fellow first-years while enthralling him as well, intricate stain-glass windows were complimented by the fabled ceiling that was bewitched to mimic the sky above it and give the room a sense of endless height.

Rows of students lined on either side of them, staring as one would expect a child to stare at a fish bowl. The professors sat on a raised dais beneath the windows of the room, sat at the opposite end of the doors. McGonagall led them forward in lines that had been ordered pre-entrance to allow students to go forward easily when their name was called to be sorted.

Speaking of sorting, the elder witch went forward to the Headmaster and received a scroll before returning to stand beside a stool holding a hat. The others were curious, but he knew of the process from Nagini, the idea of letting him go into a situation unaware being completely asinine to the serpent. The hall quieted as the hat began to twitch, before a tear opened much like a mouth, eyes forming out of wrinkles in the old leather. The ancient artifact appeared to take in a great breath of air before belting out the sorting song of the year, giving a light description of the houses and the sorting process. It finished to raucous applause by the seasoned students, awkward clapping from the new, and polite agreement from the professors.

As the noise died down a touch, McGonagall unrolled the scroll in her hands and spoke one simple sentence, "The sorting will now commence."

On and on the list went in sending different students to their new houses for the next seven years: Abbot in Hufflepuff, Boot to Ravenclaw, Bulstrode for Slytherin, and Brown to Gryffindor. His interest was peaked when Target was then called, in a name that gave him pause.

Hermione Granger

So that was the name of the girl he had been focusing on so heavily for the past few hours, fitting to her image nicely. What gave him pause was not so much the Shakespeare inspired first-name, but the surname of the girl. Granger was part of a wizard name, a noble one at that. The truly unbelievable thing was that she was named Granger, she.

The Dagworth-Granger line was notorious for never, and that is totally unexaggerated, giving birth to daughters after the debacle with Helena Ravenclaw stealing her mother's diadem. The blue and bronze founder had cursed her line through the family magic to only allow for men to be born, the last being Hector Dagworth-Granger some time ago before he died childless, seemingly ending the family. He'd noticed some muted interest in a sallow man robed in black, his appearance leading him to believe it was Severus Snape, another of those on his list of inspection. Well, the girl did somewhat appear to hold resemblance to the deceased Potions Master.

"Ravenclaw!"

He returned his attention to Hermione as she seemed to sag slightly in relief. He'd have to think more on that later as it was getting closer to his big moment in the spotlight. The sarcasm in that thought was so heavy it gave him pause, belatedly realizing that he was failing in paying attention when a clear voice rang out the next name.

"Potter, Harrison." The two in-the-know had mischievous sparks in their eyes, apparently fully ready to see the outcome that was sure to be similar to the one they faced those weeks ago when they learned he was alive.

They wouldn't be disappointed.

More than one, well really most of the students and staff were looking at the stoic woman in confusion, some outright bewilderment. He breathed through his nose deeply and allowed himself to fall into the blankness of occlumency to don a blank visage, and then he took a step forward.

Eyes were riveted to him as he broke the stillness of the atmosphere, following him like he was a young, unidentified creature; don't get too close if it might be dangerous. His heels clicked on the floors loudly among the ow muttering whispers that passed him by, wondering what this whole situation was about.

He finally reached the stool as the professor took the hat into her hands, smiling along with the headmaster. He shot them a small, conspiratorial wink before the hat was lowered on his head to cover his eyes. The last thing he saw was the extremely wide eyes of Weasley, Longbottom, and Hermione.

The hat twitched minutely before humming was heard in his head, startling him only slightly as he was unused to hearing anything, including his own thoughts, when his mind was blanked. It chuckled at his small spook.

"Fear not, young heir. My effectiveness would be quite limited if I was not given a backdoor through Mind Magic, would it not?

That made sense. Occlumency and Legilimency were arts that had been created by Ravenclaw to protect herself from having the secrets of her wards-scheme to Hogwarts stolen, so it only made sense to have an artifact partially made by her to include a nod to her skills. The purpose of the hat only increased the necessity further.

"Yes, indeed it does. Now to place you in your new home. I am going to say now that entering into one of your familiar houses will allow you more room to yourself than the two others."

So he had a choice, huh? That was nice to hear, think, whatever this method of reception was. He honestly thought it would be better for him to enter Gryffindor, as he was sure that would allow him less constraint in the public eye. Slytherin though was also appealing with its access to many of the heirs that attended the school currently, many politicians coming from that house due to its character traits of ambition and cunning. Hmmm, each had its cons as well, but he was almost positive that this choice would aid him more so than the other.

"Yes, he he he, I believe Godric would be proud of your decision, so it better be...Slytherin!"

The hat was lifted from his head, allowing him to take in the expressions ranging across the hall. His fellow students were looking at him with a little more unsurety than before as they hesitantly applauded, but his own new house seemed to truly grasp the thought that if somehow possible, as ludicrous as it seemed, then this would be a major boon to them in both the political arena and the social circles of their world.

He turned a quick glance at both of the knowledgeable professors, and he wasn't really surprised to see a small glimmer of disappointment in the younger of the duo's eyes. She had probably hoped that his blood-lineage would grant him a grandfathering inclusion into her house much like the rest of the Potters. He strode to his new table and quickly took his place beside Theodore Nott, turning to observe the rest of the sorting which quickly ended with Weasley in the predictable and the other boat-rider, Blaise Zabini of the Zabini house, to sit beside him in the house of green and silver.

The headmaster caught their attention as he stood, and held his hands behind his back in a placid but powerful pose. "Welcome to students new and old! Allow me a small quip before we begin the feast. There will be a longer announcement later, so please stay seated after your meals. Tuck in!" He seated himself as he smiled brightly at the four tables.

Harry turned himself into his seat more properly, as expected in polite company, and began to prepare his plate from several choices of one who had extensive training in dining etiquette. His fellow new dorm-mates all kept eyeing him as discretely as they could with differing expression ranging from curiosity, fascination, confliction, and indifference, the last coming from Crabbe and Goyle as they tucked in with fervor.

It seemed that no one wanted to be the first to form an inquiry, as the headmaster waved a hand and vanished the food and mess from the tables, impressing many he could see. He stood and everyone else gave him silence.

"Yes, thank you. Now there are reminders that those of you who have attended in the past shall recognize. There is a list of banned items hanging from Mr. Filch's door, too many to spout off the top of my head at my age." He smiled jovially as there were sounds of amusement from the students, "There shall be no magic used in the halls, unless deemed necessary by a professor, and as the name implies, the Forbidden Forest is off-limits to all who are not given permission by a professor or myself." His eyes turned hard, belying the seriousness of the rule. The pair of twins sitting at the Gryffindor table seemed to wilt under the man's gaze.

The serious aura dissipated when the elder smiled again and spread his arms wide. "Now that all of this is out of the way, I bid you good evening and good luck in your classes tomorrow. Schedules shall be received tomorrow at breakfast, so make sure that you don't sleep in." He clapped, and the prefects of the four houses stood to lead the first years along towards the common rooms.

He stood with the rest of Slytherins, walking with Zabini and Nott out of the room once the other three houses had scurried off. Just as he was walking away, he felt eyes on the back of his head and turned his head to see Professor Snape with a blank gaze staring him in the eyes, almost searching but unable to understand what he was looking for. Another thing to add to the man's mental profile then.

The walk to the common room through the dungeons was as silent as the grave, save for the sound of fluttering clothing and footsteps. He was well aware of the silent scrutiny of the others around him, not just for his name but his rings as well. He honestly believed them to only think he was actually the Boy-Who-Lived with half a mind. Their reaction at the feast, however, was telling in the fact that they do not trust authority figures as much as others might, taking nothing for granted. They, and their parents included, most likely held some suspicion against Albus Dumbledore to hold at least a small amount of belief in the old superstition that he was being trained by the man in secret.

After all, the boy who defeated Dumbledore's greatest rival since Gellert Grindelwald would have to have either great power or a just as great ability to do what he could not. He would be the man's perfect poster boy for the non-separatist Light, his muggleborn mother and pureblood, old-line father helping his case.

They came upon a dead end; the wall holding a fresco of a Basilisk as it slithered around a room full of tall columns, looking at them with predatory, yellow eyes. The male prefect, whose name he couldn't recall being spoken earlier turned around to them with a glare that was threatening for a teenager, speaking to them.

"This is the entrance to the common room of the noble Slytherin House." Harry mentally snorted at that mistake "The password will be changed by our head of house, Professor Snape. At the end of the week, the password will be told to you in a meeting in the common room that is mandatory. This week it is Ouroboros."

The boy spun around as the serpent's gaze focused on him and bared its fangs slightly. The other first years began to get visibly, barely noticeable, nervous as it let out a light hiss, before turning its head away from them and slithering into the darkness. The boy turned to them and smirked before squaring his shoulders, walking through the wall.

Harry assumed it was like the barrier at the train station, and confidently walked through the wall as the others seemed to do the same. Forcing himself through what felt like a mess of cobwebs, he knew that he had entered a woven net of threads of magic that made up a set of active wards. The wards at home felt smoother and thicker than these, but that was to be expected of a place that housed creatures that could kill armies.

The wards reacted as soon as he was through them, entering the common room for the first time. The fire in the fireplaces turned a dark emerald, holding a molten-silver core, the wards shifted lightly to give him access but not control, and a portrait of a handsome man that he bore a rather striking resemblance to him seemed to awaken from slumber, his portrait situated on a stretch of wall between two descending staircases.

Even as the other students shifted nervously or went rigid at the change in a familiar atmosphere, he and the man locked eyes, and in that moment there was a rush as he felt the most terrifyingly powerful rush of something like Legilimency force thoughts to the front of his mind, watching them as one would a movie at the cinema. No matter what he tried, he couldn't pull up the blanket of emptiness that he was used to when he employed Occlumency, and it scared him.

That spike of fear also seemed to coincide with the last of his memories rushing through his mind at a lightning-quick pace. Even as the foreign presence left him, he could feel the same presence soothing his aching head to a state similar, if not just as, to how he felt before the experience. The man in the portrait gained a shine in his previously blank eyes, before opening his mouth and speaking.

-Welcome Harrissson Potter, heir to my brother and myssself.-