The surgical table slowly rose into a vertical position. He felt himself trapped, not by the shackles on his wrists bounding him to the table, but by his own mangled body, reconstructed inside an insufferable armor. He drew his breaths in a constant, it came harsh and painfully, but he couldn't stop it — he could never stop it — not even slow it down. The machinations of his life support system did their work for him, it maintained him alive to live in excruciating pain for the rest of his life.

As he opened his eyes, he felt the light burn them like it hadn't ever done before. The surgical table came to a stop, giving him time to assess the room around him. A shadow stepped into the light right by his side, as if the lights had suddenly failed. He could feel it, the monstrous void that came with the shadow.

It looked directly at him with burning yellow eyes.

"Lord Vader, can you hear me?"

Harry woke up sweating and cold, his breaths were ragged, uncontrolled, unfocused. Slowly, he got back to his senses and moaned in a phantom pain as he rose from his bed. Harry put his hands on his face, feeling skin touching with skin, and felt relief spread throughout his body as he sat in silence for a moment.

A hooting sound drew his attention and he turned to see Padme — the genial owl — awake on his desk. He had long discarded the idea of leaving her inside the cage and gave her his bedroom as her own personal space — sometimes he left the window opened and she would go flying out of it only to return later with a rat or another type of prize to him.

"Good morning, little one," he greeted the owl. She hooted back at him.

In Harry's last month among the Dursleys the other house residents seemed to ignore him almost completely — aside from meals, that is. This was certainly an improvement, as it gave Harry all the time of the world to take a look at his new books and learn more about magic before going to school. The ones he found himself most interested in were Hogwarts: A History, A History of Magic, Magical Theory, Magical Drafts and Potions and, the most intriguing one of them all, The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection.

It had taken some time for Harry to convince Uncle Vernon to give him a ride to King's Cross Station, where he would be boarding a train in Platform 9¾, which Vernon insistent it didn't exist, but Harry had figured it was probably hidden somewhere in plain sight. At the end, the man relented to Harry's request when Dudley had asked to go to London for… some kind of reason that Harry hadn't paid attention.

Today, however, it was the day that he'd go to Hogwarts, and most of his things had been organized for the trip for the past 2 days. Harry reluctantly put his owl back into her cage, which she actually didn't seem to mind all that much, and got around to putting on his school uniform — with the exception from the hat.

The uniform actually wasn't all that dissimilar to the ones from muggle schools. He found himself wearing a white buttoned shirt with a black necktie with a grey V-neck jumper above it all, and black trousers and black dress shoes. Harry felt very strange while wearing this type of clothing ever since he got his old memories back, but — as if to give him a sense of belonging — the uniform also included a long black robe with grey on the insides. When he put the robes on and looked himself in the mirror, he felt he looked much more like a Jedi, the robes even had a hood if he so wished to wear it on.

"What the hell are you wearing?" Vernon asked immediately when he first saw Harry descend the stairs.

"That's my uniform," Harry replied.

"And you're wearing that cloak in the train station? People are going to look!" Vernon said scandalized, but Harry shrugged it off.

"I don't see the problem."

Vernon's face grew redder than it normally was. "NO CLOAKS!" He barked. "If you want to put them on, do so while you are at the train. I won't have you attracting strange eyes to us, boy."

Harry rolled his eyes, but 2 hours later, they were driving off to the station and he wasn't wearing his robes anymore. They reached King's Cross at half past ten. Uncle Vernon dumped Harry's trunk onto a cart and off they went into the station. When they reached the platforms, the man gave Harry one hell of a nasty grin.

"There you are, boy. Platform 9 and 10, yours should be in-between, but it seems they didn't build it just yet." He was quite right in his assessment, as there was no apparent platform between Platforms 9 and 10, but Harry could feel a disturbance in the Force around that area.

"Your lack of faith is most disturbing, uncle. Don't worry about it, I'll find my way to the platform. Thanks for the ride," and then Harry was pushing pass Vernon in the direction of the platforms. He heard Vernon do a displeased noise, but he ignored it in favor of his objectives.

Looking at the clock, there were about 10 minutes before the train parted to Hogwarts, so Harry better hurry to find how to access Platform 9¾. If only Hagrid had told him how to do so, but that hadn't been the case.

"— packed with muggles, of course —" In the distance, he heard the voice of a woman. The word she had just used could mean only one thing: she was a witch. Harry turned to see a plump woman talking to 4 boys, all with flaming red hair, each of them pushing a trunk like his own and one of them had an owl.

"Just what I needed," Harry muttered with a satisfied tone. He followed the family until they stopped between Platforms 9 and 10.

"Mum, can't I go too?" A small girl, also red-haired, who was holding the woman's hand asked.

"You aren't old enough, Ginny, now be quiet. Percy, you go first."

What it looked like the oldest of the boys, the one with an owl, marched forward towards the dividing barrier between the two platforms and suddenly disappeared. Harry raised one of his eyebrows at this, but continued to watch silently.

"Fred, you're next," the woman prompted.

"I'm not Fred, I'm George," said the boy. "Honestly, can't you tell? And you call yourself our mother."

"Sorry, George, dear."

But the boy grinned and said, "only joking. I'm Fred." And off he went too. The next boy, this Fred's twin brother, hurried up after him and both were gone shortly after. He wondered how they were doing it.

Harry approached the woman. "Excuse me. Can you tell me how I can access Platform 9¾?"

"Hello dear. First year at Hogwarts, am I right? Ron's new too," the woman presented her last son with a warm smile. The boy gave Harry a wave and he waved at him in return. "Now, to access the platform is very simple. All you have to do is to walk straight at the barrier between 9 and 10. Don't stop or be scared, or else you're going to crash into it. Feel free to run if you're nervous. Why don't you go first and show him, Ron?"

"Alright!" Ron, much like his brothers before him, marched towards the barrier and disappeared before Harry's own eyes.

"Now, it's your turn, dear," the woman put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a warm smile that kind of reminded him of his mother all this time back at Tatooine.

"Good luck!" The girl at the woman's side wished to him. Harry gave her a wink in return.

It was all about confidence, Harry thought, and with that he had much experience. Calmly, Harry walked towards the barrier without a single devious thought and, just as the other boys before him, he travelled through the barrier into the secret Platform 9¾. A scarlet steam engine, a much older model when compared with the other trains at King's cross, awaited at the platform, which was packed with mages. A sign overhead said "Hogwarts Express", confirming that this was the right place. Smoke drifted over the people's heads, while cats of every color, some owls and a multitude of toads could be seen along with their owners.

Harry swung his trunk behind his back, even though it was quite heavy, and grabbed Padme's cage. Without wasting anymore time, he got aboard of the train's compartments — one that was empty — and sat there in silence. There was much chatter outside, but with enough focus, Harry's mind could silence the noise and spread tranquility through his body.

He vaguely heard the train's whistle on the background and, not long after, the chatter too became much sparser and the train started to move and gradually gain speed. A minute or two passed until his compartment door swung open. Harry saw the youngest redheaded boy came in.

"Can I sit here too? Anywhere else is full," he said.

In truth, Harry really wanted to say no and stay alone, but he didn't have enough excuses to refuse the boy.

"Ron, isn't it? Come in."

Ron sat down and glanced quickly at Harry before quickly looking out of the window. Harry scanned his face, only now noticing a black mark on his nose. It didn't exactly look like a wound, so he didn't ask anything of it.

"Hey, Ron."

The twin brothers were back.

"Listen, we're going down the middle of the train. Lee Jordan's got a giant tarantula there. Would you like to see it too?"

"No way! I hate spiders," Ron said a bit white.

After the twins buggered off to see the tarantula, Harry and Ron sat in silence on their compartment. Harry hadn't any intention on starting a conversation with Ron and the other boy seemed timid enough to not start one himself, so they stayed in comfortable silence — well, at least Harry felt pretty comfortable, but he could feel Ron's anxiety build up.

Putting that aside, Harry reverted back into his meditation, crossing his legs on his seat and relaxing. He meditated mostly on what he knew to expect from Hogwarts during his first day. He had read a book that explained the history and systems of Hogwarts during his last month with the Dursleys and was still processing the information.

Hogwarts had been founded by 4 powerful mages during Europe's Middle Ages, roughly at the time of the witch hunts. Its founders' names were: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw and Salazar Slytherin. Each of the founders had created their own Hogwarts house and students were admitted to them according to their traits. The book didn't go on about how this sorting happened, but he guessed that the founders and their subsequent successors would be the ones selecting the students they wanted. There were probably other criteria that the book didn't go about describing, as not a single Hogwarts student ever wasn't admitted to any of the houses, but the main one was the selection of students based on the presence of traits each of the founders valued.

For Gryffindor, the traits valued were bravery, chivalry, daring and emotion. The founder followed the philosophy of the element of fire, always consuming and full of energy. For Hufflepuff, the values of the house were hard work, perseverance, loyalty and fierceness, much like the element of earth. Ravenclaw was a house for the intelligent and wise, the creative and curious minds of the wizarding world, and its element was air. Last, but not least, there was the House of Slytherin, who wanted the resourcefulness, ambition, cunning and perseveration — it was fitting that water was its element.

Harry thought he exhibited traits of all these houses, so he could only guess how the sorting would go on and what house he'd end up in. He refrained from having a preference, as he didn't have enough information to formulate a fair opinion of any of them.

"Anything off the cart, dears?" Asked a smiling, dimpled woman while she passed by with a candy trolley.

"Sorry, I don't have any money," said Ron a bit flustered.

Harry shook his head and said, "Thank you, ma'am, but I'm filled." Actually, he had barely eaten after waking up today, but Harry just wasn't a fan of sweets. The lady nodded and went off toward other compartments.

Harry heard Ron shuffling in his seat and grumbling. He looked up to see Ron staring at something on his hand. When the boy realized he was being watched, he shinned red and said:

"Mom always forgets I don't like corned beef. That's what happens when you have too many siblings." Harry didn't share this sentiment, but then again, he never had much privileges of choosing what to eat in his early and late life. There was the sweet spot between his 9 and 19 years of age that he had, but… Life of slavery, military rations, not-food-nutritional-paste.

At the end, Harry shrugged his shoulders and went back to meditating. Eventually, Ron gave in into his hunger and consumed the corned beef without a problem and, from the feeling of it, Harry guessed he had just learned to like it too. The wonders of hunger, he guessed bitterly.

"Is this a rat?" Harry couldn't help, but ask as he heard the noise of the animal.

"Yeah. This is Scabbers," Ron replied presenting the little creature who was chewing in a piece of meat. "Pathetic, isn't he?"

"Just a little bit," Harry shot an analytical look at the rat. It felt somewhat… wrong… He didn't know what to make of it, really. "Is it some sort of magical rat?"

"Dunno about that. He has been on my family for 11 years, you know?"

"Damn… That's a lot of years for a rat to live. It must be magical to live that long." Harry's hand strokes his chin.

"And old," Ron chuckled. "Fred gave me a spell to turn him yellow. Wanna see it?"

Harry thought for a bit. "Sure…" What an interesting and… trivial way to use the Force. The Jedi Masters at the temple would be shaking in their coffins if they ever knew about it.

Ron had grabbed his wand and pointed at Scabbers. He was about to start the spell when suddenly a girl came into the compartment.

"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one," she said in a bossy tone. She had lots of bushy brown hair and rather large front teeth.

"No," Ron answered frowning.

"Oh! You're doing magic! Let me see it, then," she quickly sat with them. Ron appeared to be taken aback.

"Er — alright…"

The boy cleared his throat.

"Sunshine, daisies, better mellow. Turn this stupid, fat rat yellow."

.

..

…

Harry covered his soft laugh with a cough.

"Are you sure this is a real spell?" The girl questioned. "Well, it's not very good, is it? I've tried a few simple spells for practice and it's all worked well for me. Nobody in my family has magic at all, it was such a surprise when my letter arrived. It was the best thing to happen, of course, Hogwarts is the best school of witchcraft there is, as I heard — I've learned all our course books by heart, you see, I just hope it will be enough — I'm Hermione Granger, by the way."

Wow, fast talker, Harry thought. He looked at Ron, seeing the boy's stunned face at the revelation that the girl had already studied that much, and he shook his head. Some children just weren't patient, were they?

"I'm Ron Weasley," said Ron after shaking off his surprise.

"Harry Potter," said Harry.

"What?!" Ron immediately found himself stunned yet again.

"Are you, really? Holy cricket," Hermione said bewildered. "I read a lot about you; you know? I've got a few extra books — you're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Event of the 20th Century."

"Ah, yes. I read those, too," Harry admitted. "My portrait on those is… greatly exaggerated. Not the best source of knowledge about me."

"You didn't tell me you were Harry Potter," Ron interjected.

"You didn't ask," Harry said dismissively.

"Do either of you know what house you'll be in? I've been asking around, and I hope I'm in Gryffindor, it sounds by far the best; I hear Dumbledore himself was in it, but I supposed Ravenclaw wouldn't be too bad…" Hermione fired rapidly.

"I want to be in Gryffindor, like everyone else in my family," Ron said proudly.

"I don't know which is best. I think I can be sorted into any of the four, really," Harry replied.

"No way! Even Slytherin?" Ron asked.

"I am cunning and ambitious." One had to learn how to deceive when they were around Palpatine for so long. "I'm very confident on my leadership skills too. I heard its founder also valued that."

"But that's the house You-Know-Who was in!" Ron voiced scandalized.

Harry scoffed. "Children are hardly dark lord material, unless they are born psychopaths or something. I thought like you at first, when I learned which house he was in, but I also learned of plenty of dark mages that weren't in Slytherin too, even ones that didn't even studied at Hogwarts."

"Like Grindelwald!" Hermione perked up. "I read about him. He was a wizard from Dumbledore's youth. They battled; you know? Dumbledore put his reign of terror into a stop."

"Yeah, I've heard of it…" Harry said.

Ron made a sour face. "I don't know. Dad says Slytherin is full of the worse sort of people. He said that most of the followers of You-Know-Who were in Slytherin, so I guess that must mean something."

Harry nodded, conceding to his point. "Yes, it definitely does, but remember this…" Harry shifted around in his seat to look directly at Ron. "I think what defines us the most are our choices, be it good or bad. Being sorted into a house at a magical school will hardly define your character; that is for you to choose."

Ron looked about to protest, but he was interrupted when three boys basically invaded the compartment all of a sudden. Harry immediately recognized the boy in the middle — the one on the lead — it was the same pale blonde boy he had encountered at Madam Malkin's a month ago when he was shopping with Hagrid.

"Is it true? I heard someone saying they heard that Harry Potter was in this compartment," he then looked around and crossed eyes with Harry, who raised one eyebrow at him. "You! It is you, isn't it?"

"I should commend you for your memory, boy. I didn't expect you to remember meeting me," Harry praised. The boy looked rather pompous and proud about it. The other two boys looked like a very mean sort. No doubt those were the goons he used to bully kids around into submission.

"Of course, I remember," he said and extended his hand to Harry. "My name is Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. This is Crabble and Goyle."

Ron gave a slight cough, which was definitely hiding a snigger. Draco Malfoy immediately shot him a scowl.

"You think my name is funny? Don't even need to ask who you are. My father told me all Weasley have red hair, freckles and more children that they can afford."

Draco turned back to Harry. "You won't want to get yourself involved with the wrong sort, Potter. You'll find soon enough that some wizarding families are better than others. I can help you there."

Harry looked at the boy's hand for a moment before grabbing it and helping himself up his seat. Ron's eyes immediately went wide as he felt absolutely betrayed while Hermione looked rather confused at all of this.

"Good to see you see reason, Potter. I hope to — ouch! Ow!" Harry's pressured Malfoy's hand with as much force as possible, crushing it under his grip.

"I've had my fair shape of experience your type, Draco. I have no patience to deal with bigots like you and your family." He released the boy's hands.

"You'll pay for this, Potter!" He snarled. "I'd be careful if I were you. Unless you're a bit politer you'll go the same way as your parents. They didn't know what was good for them, either. You hand around with riffraff like the Weasley and Hagrid and it will rub off you."

Ron rose up from his seat. "Say that again!" But Harry put a hand on his shoulder and shook his head.

When he turned back to Malfoy, he could help but to feel dark amusement building up under his skin at the boy's threat. Harry took one step towards Malfoy, ignoring how his goons took a step too in his defense. His presence towered over all of the others in the compartment — it carried real weight and power.

"You misunderstand your place, Malfoy," Harry made a rather factual statement. "I am not someone you want to cross. I won't tolerate any of your threats and bigotry in my presence, so I advise you to consider your words carefully next time. I won't be so lenient in the future."

The three boys all took a step backwards. Draco Malfoy might had been raised spoiled by his parent's wealth, an idiot dependent, but he wasn't entirely stupid. His common sense screamed at him that Harry just wasn't messing around.

He grabbed Crabble and Goyle, muttering something under his breath, and marched out of the compartment. As the boys left them alone, Harry's demeanor and oppressive presence rapidly calmed down and he sat back as if nothing had happened. In truth, Harry was feeling rather weary.

"Did someone ever told you that you can look pretty scary?" Ron said feeling quite unnerved. Hermione watched the events unfold silently; her heart was still coming around the squeezing feeling she had felt just before.

Harry, wanting to move on, just said, "not to my face," and then turned around to Hermione, which made her jump a bit. He smiled as kindly as he could. "Don't worry. I don't bite."

That seemed to wake up Hermione, because she acquired a rather bossy demeanor. "Well, obviously!"

Hermione got up from her seat.

"I have to go help Neville find his told," she said. "It's getting dark too, so we must be arriving soon. I think you two should hurry up and put your robes — at least you, Ron; Harry has his already. I'm going to ask the conductor when are we going to arrive." And off she went.

Harry looked at the window. It was indeed getting dark and he hadn't felt the time passing at all. He rose up from his seat and looked at Ron. "I'll give you some privacy. Just call me when you're ready and I'll come pick up my cloak."

After the train arrived at Hogwarts Station, Harry had the pleasure of briefly exchange pleasantries with Hagrid after a month without seeing the giant man. The man was tasked to escort the First-years to Hogwarts Castle through an alternative route, as it was a custom for the first arrival at Hogwarts — Hagrid had explained that. The Gamekeeper escorted them in a boat ride across a lake and into an underground harbor.

Harry had to admit, although the architecture of Hogwarts looked more than antiquated, especially for his eyes that were so accustomed with the great skyscrapers of Imperial Center, but that didn't make the castle appear any less beautiful or imponent. It actually quite a medieval charm to it.

They had been greeted by Professor McGonagall, the Deputy Headmistress, and told to wait as she prepared the Great Hall for their arrival and to start the Sorting Ceremony. What happened after that left Harry a bit unnerved, because various ghosts invaded the room and greeted the students.

His experience with spirits was that they brought with them great danger. He remembered, at the early days of the Empire, when he saw himself forced to confront the spirit of Momin, an ancient Sith who had helped him in the construction of his stronghold in Mustafar. The only way Harry knew a spirit could still impose itself in the realm of the living was through the dark side, so no matter how harmless these ghosts seemed, he felt deeply suspicious of them.

When Professor McGonagall returned, she quickly shushed the children and the ghosts dispersed. "Now, form a line and follow me."

Everyone did as they were told and they all walked out of the chamber, back across the hall and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

In all his years in his early life, Harry had never seen anything quite like this. The place was splendid! It was lit by hundreds and hundreds of candles floating midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were seated. At the end of hell was yet another long table where only adults were seated — the teachers, probably. Professor McGonagall led the teachers up there and they came into a halt in a line facing the other students while the teachers were behind them.

Looking up, Harry saw the ceiling completely covered in a sky full of stars. He vaguely thought that he heard Hermione say something about it at the back, probably how one of the books she had explained what was happening at the ceiling. If it wasn't for a slightly distortion in the sky, Harry would have been convinced that there was no ceiling at all.

McGonagall placed a four-legged stool in front of the First-years. On top of the stool was a very odd pointy hat kneaded in a way that appeared to give it a frowning face. It looked quite dirty too.

There was a moment of silence before the hat started twitching and suddenly it had begun to sing in a deep masculine voice:

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So, try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, emotion and chivalry set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong to Hufflepuff,

Where they are fiercely loya,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true and unafraid of foil.;

Or yet a wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So, put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I am a Thinking Cap!"

What the hell is going on? Harry thought, he was completely unable to wipe out the shit-eating grin on his face. Sorting Hat… So, this is how each student was selected for each house, it seemed. How did it do that? Harry had so many questions.

Professor McGonagall stepped forward and cleared her throat. "Now, when I call your name, you will come forth, I shall place the Sorting Hat in your head and you will be sorted into your houses."

"Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-face girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of the line, put on the hat, which was quite oversized for her. There was a moment of silence before —

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The Sorting Hat shouted.

The table on Harry's far-left erupted in cheers as the girl went on to sit down at Hufflepuff table. Harry also watched as her robe colors, specifically the grey bits and the necktie, turned yellow and, in case of the tie, with black stripes.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat shouted again and this Susan followed Hannah's example. The same thing as described before happening.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!" Now, the table at the center-right cheered and Terry's greys turned into blue, with his necktie turning into a pattern of blue and bronze.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" also ended up in Ravenclaw, but she was followed by "Brown, Lavender" who was the first Gryffindor. The table at the center-left cheered her and the greys on her robes turned red; her necktie assumed a stripped pattern of red and golden.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" went into Slytherin and the far-right table cheered her. The greys became green and the stripped pattern was green and silver, finally revealing where and what to look for all the houses.

"Finch-Fletchey, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, the hat barely touched a kid's head before shouting their house's name, but others like "Finnegan, Seamus" the hat lasted a whole minute before deciding to put the student in a house, Gryffindor on this case.

"Granger, Hermione!"

The girl Harry met at the train almost jumped in excitement and ran to the stool, jamming the hat into her head, shocking Professor McGonagall a bit.

"Hah! That's some nerve. GRYFFINDOR!" The hat said immediately.

The sorting was passing rather quickly. "Longbottom, Neville" had slowed things down for about 5 minutes before being sent to Gryffindor, but most of the students wouldn't last more than 1 minute on the stool. Harry wondered how the hat just knew where to put all those people, because it didn't seem to choose at random, as the houses were uneven in numbers as of now.

Malfoy, without surprises, went directly into Slytherin, being the fasted to have been sorted as of yet. He had joined his goons, which had been sorted before him.

It went Moon, Nott, Parkinson, Patil — 2 times in a roll — and then Perks. Finally, the moment he had been waiting for arrived and he heard himself being called.

"Potter, Harry!"

As he stepped forward, the students began to whisper among themselves. Harry didn't feel surprised by this development, as he already knew he was supposed to be famous. He mostly ignored the crowd, seating himself in the stool and waiting for Professor McGonagall to put the hat on his head.

She did so soon after.

"Oh… Oh, my… You're not an average first year, are you?" He heard the Sorting Hat's voice, but just faintly, as if he…

Realization washed over Harry and he suddenly felt very cold.

"You're inside my mind," Harry muttered under his breath. He wanted this hat off him, immediately!

"That can't happen. Not before I sort you out. Please, do not worry, I am bound to not share a single thing that I see. No one can ever wish to extract information from me, and I assure you that many tried — none succeed in hundreds of years."

Harry was still very tense about it. He just couldn't be at ease with this situation… His… His secrets, his deeds…

"Your secrets are safe within me, Mr. Potter… Skywalker… I don't know anymore. Never in my life I encountered a case like yours. You suffered greatly and, in turn, caused great suffering, but, in the end, you made one last good decision."

"Difficult… Very difficult. You could fit pretty much anywhere with this much experience," the Sorting Hat mused. "You'd do good in Slytherin, you know. It would help to elevate you into greatness."

Harry thought he already had his fair share of greatness. It hadn't brought him anything but unending suffering.

"Hm… Yes, I'm sure you wouldn't want to go on that path again. I also doubt you will show restraint the next time you come into contact with the failures of Slytherin." The hat tuts for a bit. "You're not really that much of a Ravenclaw, though you obsessed yourself in the road of knowledge once, but you'd fit right in Hufflepuff. I do not condone your decisions, but I've never seen someone so fiercely loyal as you… to go so far for your family… You are also capable of great kindness too, which Hufflepuff would certainly welcome."

"No…" the hat said suddenly. "Your true values certainly have loyalty on them, but you, at your core, speak through your emotions the most — very impulsive too. Perhaps too much, which might have doomed you before, but now you are much wiser. You value chivalry and you are a very brave commander, ever assisting your subordinates, even during the time of the Empire. So, might as well be…"

"GRYFFINDOR!" The hat's voiced boomed across the Great Hall, finalizing his decision. "Good luck, Harry Potter. I wish you the best in your new life."

The students at Gryffindor table erupted in excitement, cheering the loudest as of yet. The Weasley twins yelled, "We've got Potter! We've got Potter!". The adjacent tables clapped politely, clearly a bit disappointed that they hadn't got Harry into their houses. One of the ghosts he had previously met, Sir Nicholas, put a hand on Harry's on his shoulder, congratulating the boy.

"Thanks," Harry said apprehensively.

Now that Harry was seated, he could have a proper look at the high table where the teachers were. He saw Hagrid at the corner nearest to him and gave the man a wave, receiving a thumbs up. At the center of the table, in a large golden chair, sat an old man Harry had seen in many of his books on magic history: Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster. The old man had long silver hair, the only thing that shone as brightly as the ghosts, and was wearing quite an interesting attire. The man's fashion sense was quite eccentric, full of purples and lilacs, star patterns scattered throughout his robes, a big pointy hat of similar color and half-moon-shaped glasses with piercing blue eyes behind them.

Harry and the other students continued to clap as the sorting ceremony continued until every First-year was sorted into one of the 4 houses. "Zabini, Blaise" was the last of them, going to Slytherin. As the boy seated himself in the Slytherin table, Dumbledore had gotten to his feet, arms wide open.

"Welcome," he said. "Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, as I'm sure you all are eager to start, I would like to say a few words."

The students silenced themselves for a moment, awaiting the words of the Headmaster, though the older students were sniggering to themselves as quietly as possible as opposed to the careful silence of the First-years. Harry watched the man carefully.

"And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" The old man voiced. "Thank you!"

Everyone cheered and clapped, even Harry — who had no idea what that was about. He turned to Percy Weasley, Ron's oldest brother he had met and one of the Gryffindor Prefects.

"Is he a bit mad or something?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Brilliant genius! That's what he is," the other young man informed him. "But I guess every genius is a bit mad, yes. Potatoes, Harry?"

An odd question, for sure, until Harry realized that, at the table, a multitude of food had appeared in the empty space that was previously there. Roast beef, chicken, pork chops, lamb chops, boiled potatoes, salads, you name it! Harry had only saw that many dishes during diplomatic or business meetings, but even they were nothing compared to this banquet.

Harry seemed to contemplate his options for a bit; there were some dishes at the table he had never experimented in his new life and they all looked absolutely stunning. In the end, he filled his plate with some lamb chops, mashed potatoes, a handful of rice, some carrots and cabbage salad.

"Wow! That's amazing," said Harry after he started to eat.

Every single student ate as much as they could, some clearly more lacking in etiquette than others. When they were all set, the remaining of the food faded from the plates, leaving them sparkling clean as they were before. A moment later, desserts had appeared, but Harry hadn't been of those who immediately jumped at it. He was satisfied enough.

Without much to do, as Harry didn't find himself quite interested in the conversation around him, Harry looked up at the high table again. He saw Hagrid drinking deeply from his goblet. Professor McGonagall was talking to Professor Dumbledore, sharing fond smiles and some laughs. There was also a teacher wearing a very odd purple turban wrapped around his head. He was talking to another professor with greasy black hair, a hooked nose and sallow skin.

What happen next was very sudden. Mr. Hook-nose looked past Turban Man straight into Harry's eyes — and a sharp, hot pain shot across Harry's scar, making him clap it with one of his hands.

"What is it?" Percy had asked.

Harry shook his head. "Just a feeling. A disturbance, if you will. Don't worry about it." That was Harry's job to do. The pain had passed as quickly as it came. There was a feeling he had felt when the teacher gazed at him that he couldn't shake off. The man appeared to not like him at all.

"Who's the teacher talking to Turban Man?" Harry asked Percy.

"Who?" Percy looked at the high table. "Oh! Professor Quirrell is the one with the turban. No wonder he looks so nervous right now, that's Professor Snape. He teaches Potions, but really — everyone knows he's after Quirrell's job. He always wanted to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts, he knows an awful lot about them."

Harry narrowed his eyes. Better keep an eye on this guy, then, he thought. He looked at Snape again, but the man didn't look in his direction like before.

At last, the desserts too disappeared, and Professor Dumbledore got to his feet again. The hall fell silent.

"Just a few more words now that we are all fed and watered. I have a few start-of-term notices to give you."

"First-years should note that the forest on the grounds of the castle is forbidden to all pupils. A few of our older students will do well if they remember that," Dumbledore's eyes shot towards the Weasley twins, who grinned. "I've also been asked by Mr. Filch, our Caretaker, to remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors.

Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams must contact Madam Hooch, though I may remind you all that First-years cannot apply to the teams yet.

And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third-floor corridor on the right side is out of bounds to anyone that does not wish a most painful death."

Some very few students laughed, but Harry frowned.

"Is he serious?" He asked Percy.

"Must be… This is odd. Usually, he gives us a reason to why we aren't allowed to go somewhere — the forest, for example, is full of dangerous beasts, and the students are informed of that by the Prefects. I'd think he would have told us Prefects, at least."

That got Harry into a pensive mood. He crossed his arms and assessed the old man once more.

Albus Dumbledore, his mind supplied, Headmaster of Hogwarts, but also holder of many important political titles, both nationally and internationally. Defeater of Grindelwald, a dark wizard; the only one Voldemort feared, according to Hagrid. From here, he looked innocent enough, as most kind and grandfatherly old men did, but he was powerful, perhaps like no one before him. He was influential too…

Harry had nothing more than praises on him and, to be fair, that's what worried him the most. He didn't feel like trusting Dumbledore anytime soon, especially after this warning of his, which did not give much reasoning to the students. This was a school full of children and teenagers and it was bound to have its fair chair of unruly pupils. To Harry, Dumbledore had just made a fool of himself by tempting fate or he knew exactly what he was doing.

He preferred to believe the old man was a fool.

"And now, bedtime! Off you trot!" Dumbledore clapped his hands.

The First-years from Gryffindor followed Percy out of the Great Hall and up a marble staircase and into a room full of moving staircases. They passed a couple of portraits and Harry noticed they moved and even talked to students and between themselves, much to his bewilderment. Percy led them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, more staircases and corridors, until they finally came into a halt in front of a painting.

The portrait in question was of a rather chubby woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" Her voice came out softly. "Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait proceeded to slide to the side, revealing a secret passage. They all scrambled through it and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a rather cozy place full of squashy armchairs.

Percy first led the girls through one door into their dormitories before directing the boys to another. At top of a spiral stair case, they found themselves looking at their beds — no need to worry about their trunks too, because they had already been brought up by someone. Too tired for small talk, the students pulled their pajamas and fell into bed.

Everyone one was fast to sleep, with the exception of Harry. For all that he felt tired, he sat on his bed, legs crossed, and fully awake in deep meditation. Hogwarts was something else — the Force was strong around this place. Harry could feel the castle around him, as it was almost alive. He felt the presence of each student inside the halls and dormitories — about a thousand lives full of thoughts and emotions.

Not nearly as many people as there was in the Jedi Temple, before the purge had happened, but it felt very much the same way. It was quite nostalgic, something Harry never could have dreamed of thinking when remembering his time with the Jedi in his late life.

As the hours passed, Harry slowly watched his conscience slip from his grasp until he was asleep at last. That night he hadn't dreamed of anything.