Sunday, 1st September 1991

It was the first day of school, and Harry was walking down to Kings Cross Station. Although there were floo points on the platform, it was apparently a tradition for all children to make their way through muggle London before their first year. Harry and Aurora were together at the back of the group, even though they had yet to speak more than a dozen words in passing to each other. All that he knew about her he had been told by his parents.

They emerged from the large doors into a bustling area, filled with muggles carrying suitcases. Harry shrugged off the multitude of strange glances, it was likely that they had seen plenty of weirder things, this was London after all. He followed his father, who was striding towards a blank stretch of wall between platforms nine and ten. He turned around and addressed them. "It can be a bit disorienting the first time, but the wall there is just an illusion; you can pass right through!"

He demonstrated, walking through the brick wall as if it wasn't there at all. Harry added another item to his mental to-do list: find out how to create illusions. Charles went next, followed by Lilly and Aurora, and finally Harry passed through. It felt like he had just walked into a pool of ice cold water, but the feeling was gone after a second. Harry looked around in wonder at his surroundings, The platform was massive, red brick walls stretching up fifty metres overhead, the roof was a gleaming crystal glass, held up by hundreds of metal girders. There were windows along the top of the wall, but they were designed just to let in light, as nothing could be seen out of them. Then there was the train itself. It was a huge scarlet behemoth, as long as the platform and spewing steam from a small chimney on the locomotive. The carriages were immaculately painted and were studded with bright gold lettering saying in cursive letters, "Hogwarts Express". He noticed that James and Charles had already walked off, as had Lilly and Aurora. Finding himself – not for the first time – completely alone in the wizarding world, he strode off towards the train, resolute to find Blaise.

The doors opened automatically when he got close, and he found himself in a central corridor. All of the compartments were made of oak, and they looked luxurious with golden trim and plush leather seats. Peering through the first window, he saw a group of older boys wearing black and yellow ties. Before they noticed him, he headed off along the train.

Harry passed through each and every car, slowly growing more and more anxious until finally he spotted Blaise and another small boy wearing nondescript black robes in a compartment. He seemed to be reading a book; Blaise had just pulled out a newspaper and was flicking through it. He slid the door open and walked inside.

"Potter. It's good to see you." Blaise said, looking up, "Theo, this is Harry Potter, Second of the House of Potter. Potter, this is Theodore Nott, heir of the House of Nott"

"Well met," Theo said, looking up for the first time. Harry was stricken by the intense gaze that Theo focused on him.

"Well met." Harry repeated the greeting.

"You look quite different from your brother, you know." Theo commented.

"I do?"

"Yes," Theo turned back to his book.

Slightly perturbed, Harry turned back to Blaise and fished the books he had loaned Harry during the holidays.

"Blaise, thanks for these, they were quite useful."

Blaise took them with a small smile, "Of course, Potter. And I would recommend you address me properly, at least for the first week. It is good to conduct yourself properly."

"My apologies, Zabini."

"Much better."

Harry took his seat, wondering what he had gotten himself into. He thought about what his father had said, about how the Zabinis were on the darker side of the neutrals, and thought for a second whether he had been right. At the end of that second, however, he disspelled that notion as he realised that his father was partially responsible for the torture he had been forced to endure. Any enemy of his father was a friend of his – within reason. Murderers were usually not the best people to know.

"What did you think of the last book I sent?" Blaise said once Harry was settled.

"It was fascinating. The intricacies of each ingredient were incredibly complex, but it does look very useful. The fact that you need to care for a plant in a specific way if you want to harvest a particular component seems a little strange though. I mean, Silverdrake plants are incredibly expensive in the first place. That you need to sacrifice the entire rest of the plant that would be able to sell for up to 500 galleons to only create a few drops of essence is insane!"

"They do sell for a lot though." Theo joined the conversation again, his expression still resolutely neutral.

"Yeah, a major component in the Wolf's Nemesis potion, something that people would be willing to spend quite a lot for." Harry leaned forward, excited to finally be able to talk about the things he had discovered.

"Especially as it is, you know, a tier XXX illegal good," Blaise drawled.

"Really? I thought its only use was to kill werewolves," Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion, "why would that be discouraged? Aren't they incredibly violent and dangerous?"

"You'd be surprised at how easy it is to manipulate some potions into another," Theo said, lowering his voice.

"What?"

Blaise stood up and walked swiftly to the door, pulling out his wand and muttering several long incantations under his breath.

"You really think we should be talking about these things on the train?" Theo lowered his voice. "Anyone could hear us."

"That's what sound wards are for, you dimwit. Anyway, we technically shouldn't talk about them at all." Blaise said, turning around to look directly at Harry, "But it wouldn't do for you to ask these questions to any random teacher."

Theo continued, "There are certain potions that are able to mimic curses very well. In the case of the Draught of Silver Fire, lycanthropy."

"There's a potion to turn you into a werewolf?"

"Yes, but it's worse than that. While a bite only infects your blood and therefore body, the potion is able to reach into your soul and burn it all away until the only thing left are animalistic urges – namely to kill. That's what makes that a class XXXXX. If it is found by the ministry, the country will be put into lockdown while the Aurors are dispatched to the houses of suspected traffickers, no matter whether the suspicion is related to the goods themselves. A few times a century, the lockdown isn't eased until the illicit substances are found. I think it was 1896 when the country's war wards were down for an entire year."

"Surely it can't be that bad?" Harry said. Theo's serious tone was the only thing that stopped him from assuming they were joking.

"Think about it, if the potion was dropped into a river or some kind of water supply it could spread throughout the entire country in days. Imagine every single witch and wizard in the country ripping each other to shreds. Millions would be killed within a week, the entire country would have to be eradicated to avoid infection in foreign nations and if even one slipped through, there is a very real chance that the entire world could be infected."

Blaise smiled, noticing Harry's look of terror, "But you shouldn't worry about that, the restriction of class XXXXX goods is one of the only things that the Ministry and Wizengamot both agree on. Nothing will slip through the cracks. The point is, even the knowledge that potions like that exist could get you thrown into Azkaban, and asking people too many questions will raise suspicions. So just be aware that this world is a dangerous place, and talking too much could expose yourself."

"And us," Theo added, "So really, don't repeat any conversations that you have with us to anyone. And I mean anyone. The only person you can trust is yourself."

"No, even then – you could be memory charmed." Blaise pointed out.

"Eh, if you have been then you're already lost." Theo said, before Bliase flicked his wand at the door just in time for the compartment door to slide open to reveal a small girl that appeared to be their age looking slightly harassed.

"Have either of you seen a toad anywhere? Neville's lost his."

"How can you lose a toad?" Harry said with some amusement, happy to have the conversation diverted from how many things there were that could kill him. It was a bit much for his first day after all.

"Oh, I don't know!" The girl said, raising her hands in indignation.

"Why would you want a toad in the first place? I'd just let it run off if it were me." Blaise interjected, a slight smile appearing in the corner of his mouth. Theo had gone back to reading his book.

"That's rude. It was a gift!" The girl argued.

"Who would give anyone a toad?" Blaise countered, his smile becoming more pronounced.

Just then a red faced boy ran up to the girl, "Hermione, have you found Trevor yet?"

"You named it Trevor?" Blaise asked incredulously.

"I–er–yes?" he replied meekly, flushing even harder.

Blaise shook his head slowly, apparently even more amused, "Go to the prefect's carriage and get one of them to summon it. Harry, go with them, I doubt they'd even be able to find it on their own."

Annoyed at the fairly obvious hint that Blaise didn't want Harry in the compartment for some reason, he complied and left with the other two children.

As the door slid shut, Theo looked up, "You don't think we oversold it?"

"No." came the terse reply, "It's a balance. We can't afford him running straight to Snape and asking him where to get a little known poison. We have to control him. He could be valuable, but not if he's just going to rot somewhere."

Theo considered that for a few seconds, "I still don't get why you're so desperate to ally yourself with him. I mean, sure, he has shown some interest in the dark arts, or at least no hatred of them, but that's no reason to be so friendly."

Blaise looked at Theo surprised, "You seriously haven't felt it? His forehead is practically oozing malignant curse magic, and the injury definitely wasn't recent. Something happened to him, something that he hasn't told anyone. Perhaps he doesn't even know himself. But I'm going to find out, because whatever the outcome, I think that being his ally will lead to the most profitable outcome."

"We shall see."

Harry returned to the compartment a few minutes later, alone and looking thoroughly annoyed, "It was in his pocket. How he never felt something that slimy is beyond me, I should know; when one of the prefects summoned it, it careened straight into my face," He pointed to a vaguely frog-shaped bruise on his cheek and sat down.

Blaise smirked, "They'll be Gryffindors for sure."

"Hufflepuff more likely, useless, the both of them." Harry complained.

Theo was still reading his book, Harry was shocked that something on a random goblin rebellion was able to hold his interest for so long. When he voiced those thoughts, however, he only received a smirk in return.

They sat in silence for a while longer before the door slid open again with a hiss. This time two girls stood there, one with blonde hair and cold blue eyes, and the other with black hair and warm hazel eyes.

Blaise stood up to greet them, "Daphne, Tracey, this is Harry Potter, Second of the House of Potter. Potter, this is Daphne Greengrass, heiress of the House of Greengrass, and Tracey Davis."

"Well met," The girl in front – presumably Daphne – said, looking distrustfully upon Harry.

"Well met," he responded, not sure what to make of them.

They sat down on the opposite side of the compartment, both with perfect poise and posture. Harry felt slightly outclassed.

Blaise broke the silence cheerfully, "So, who do you think the new Defence professor is, I saw the books he set were very theory oriented."

Daphne continued with a toneless voice, "My father is on the school board and said it was to be the old muggle studies teacher," she frowned. "Apparently he used to be alright, but at the last meeting he seemed scared of his own shadow."

"I just hope we don't just get set textbook questions the entire time, that'd be dreadful." Tracey said.

"Either way, we'll only have him for a year," Blaise pointed out, "And it's not like our first year tests are important."

"Why will he only be here for a year?" Harry inquired.

Tracey responded, "It's a curse, every single defence professor has been kicked out or left in some way for the past thirty or forty years."

"Tracey, it's not a curse," Daphne sighed.

"It happening every single year is too much of a coincidence for it to be anything else," came Tracey's quick response.

"But there are so many other things that could explain it."

"Such as?"

"I don't know," Daphne said exasperatedly, " just off the top of my head: Perhaps there's a clause in the contract, maybe it's that defence is the most dangerous position, it might just be that no one likes Dumbledore enough to stay?"

"But it could be a curse." came Tracey's response.

"It is incredibly unlikely, I mean, why would anyone even want to do that?"

"But it could be a curse."

"I suppose it could be a curse. There is a chance. A very, very small one, but a chance nonetheless."

Tracey smiled.

"How do you suppose he'll go this year then?" Blaise rejoined the conversation.

"I think he'll be murdered."

Daphne rolled her eyes, "Who would want to murder a professor?"

"Oh I don't know, just off the top of my head: Perhaps there's a psychopath running around the school, maybe they made a bunch of enemies in their youth and now they want revenge, it might just be that – "

"Alright, I get it," Daphne interjected. "No need to make fun."

Harry looked on with mild amusement, then looked back down at his own book, wishing he still had some of the more interesting ones he had just given back to Blaise. It was still fascinating, however, so Harry was much too engrossed to notice the icy glare Daphne sent his way.

Nothing else of interest happened throughout the rest of the ride other than Draco Malfoy stumbling upon the compartment. Apparently he had been an envoy from another group of the dark, however when he saw Harry his tirade was cut off and he spluttered for a solid twenty seconds before Blaise laughed at him and told him of Harry's identity. At that point he just looked confused and distrustful, and it was only a short while until he had left.

When they felt the train slow down, they pulled apart the curtains to find a miserable sight; the curse of Scotland's weather had struck again. What had previously been an overcast sky had turned much blacker, and the clouds had begun to look ominous as they towered inescapably in the sky.

Sure enough, it only took a few seconds before a few raindrops began to streak the glass, and after the initial drizzle, the following raindrops poured down as if hell had been released on earth. The faint magical lights that hung perpetually in the air shone brightly, but even then the children exited the train with some trepidation. Harry sighed, at least it wasn't hail.

Over the pounding of the water on the ground, Harry heard a faint voice but could tell it was bellowing loudly, "Firs' years! Firs' years!"

Harry blindly followed the voice, sensing the others trailing along behind him. "Wi' me firs' years!"

Harry gaped, there was a man, if you could call him that, standing down by what Harry could now make out to be a lake shore. He was at least eight feet tall – perhaps more – and he loomed over all of the first-years that had already managed to make their way over. Despite his height, the man looked almost as innocent as a child, his overgrown beard giving his face a lost, bedraggled look. That being said, his muscles were still very visibly rippling underneath his thick skin, Harry thought it was quite a lot like giving a toddler a knife.

Regardless, Harry continued walking towards him, breaking the others out of their confusion. It was clear they hadn't been expecting the giant. Theo's disbelieving snort could barely be heard over the relentless pounding of water, but it echoed Harry's thoughts, "We have to go across the lake in them?"

It did indeed look as though some of the students were clambering into the small and rickety row boats tied to the equally rotten pier, and were struggling to hold on to the sides of the boat as they were repeatedly dashed against the forbidding rocks lining the bank. It was a miracle that the boats hadn't been smashed into kindling, or at least capsized.

At last it was just them and a few other children left. Harry noticed that one of them was Draco, his blonde hair stuck against his scalp. He looked, for a better word, like a drowned ferret. He decided to heed the giant's vague gestures, words being useless because of the storm, and he slowly stepped inside the thing that was looking more and more like an open ended coffin the longer he thought about it.

He was thrown to the floor almost immediately, but as soon as an ever-confident Blaise jumped in, it stabilised slightly. Blaise walked over to Harry, seemingly unaffected by the bucking deck below him.

"How the hell – " he shouted, his words carried away by the wind as soon as he uttered them.

"My mother," Blaise replied. "We own a yacht in the Mediterranean, and sometimes the sea can get a little choppy."

"A little choppy, he says," Daphne joined them and promptly sat down, attempting to preserve as much of her dignity as she could.

Soon enough, the oars that had been resting against the sides of the boat began to move, the boat surging forwards into the crest of the next wave, and shortly falling into the trough of the one after. There was a loud bang that came from the hull, but a quick inspection confirmed that everything was fine.

"I think that was the lakebed!" Someone yelled, their voice losing all its characteristics in the howling wind.

Eventually, the trio devolved into a sort of ride. When they had determined that they weren't going to be thrown out any time soon, it became rather fun, bracing themselves for the crash down into the troughs of the waves and leaving their stomachs behind when they rose up on the next one.

Daphne had given up on any attempts to conserve her pureblood princess act, and was clinging on to the bench for dear life. Blaise had his arms raised to the sky and was smiling like a maniac. Theo had his eyes firmly shut and his mouth was set in a grimace, and Tracey was looking almost as excited as Blaise. Harry, for his part, was just frantically trying to calm down and futilely stare off into the blanket of rain attempting to spot any sign of land.

His sodden clothes seemed oppressive, and it was getting harder and harder to lift himself back into a safe position. His hair, once so hard to pin down, was now plastered to his forehead, as much as the incessant wind attempted to force it back up.

Suddenly the lake calmed down, the rain stopped pouring and the wind stopped howling. The entire group had been flung into the bottom of the boat no matter their efforts, so they popped up, wondering why it was so peaceful. Harry looked back the way he had come, and he saw what looked like an invisible wall. On one side, the waves were roaring and chaotically throwing around boats that were still in the maelstrom, but on their side, the lake was tranquil and calm. He looked up and saw the stars shining brightly in the night sky, the sky that had once been covered up by fog. He heard Daphne gasp, and slowly turned around. There it was. sitting proudly upon a hill as if welcoming them home, was Hogwarts.

The castle was beautiful. That was the only word for it. Light twinkled from hundreds of windows stretching all along the walls. The battlements were lined with slits, as were the towers, and it all coalesced into a single, almost organic-looking stone castle. It was a silhouette against the sky, the stars adding to the atmosphere. The ground the castle was standing on looked craggy, the rocks foreboding, but the door that was nestled right above the docks was bright and inviting. As they drifted closer to the dark docks, it was thrown open to allow in the students who had taken the trip around the lake on the silhouetted horses and carriages. The light that emanated from it was warm, almost golden, lit by the multitude of candles that lined the walls in their iron hangings. Harry stood up, and walked along the length of the boat to the bow, beholding the dreamlike sight.

The boat docked at a wooden pier a short time later, slippery with water and algae. Harry stepped onto it, using a post for balance as he welcomed the solid floor under his feet. He could hear the waves lapping against the shore, but unlike the bank at Hogsmeade, it was anything but aggressive.

The rest of the group joined him, and although their clothes were clinging to their skin, their faces were alight with wonder. The giant got out onto a different pier, and Harry felt a small amount of pity for the people on the same one as him as it looked as though it was about to collapse. He made his way up to the front, and gestured to them all to follow.

Thankfully, before they entered the hall as a bedraggled mess, Theo pulled out his wand and muttered "Calorio Maximus," smiling as a torrent of warm air blasted from the tip and dried them all in seconds.

"Thanks," Tracey said, "I bet none of the soon-to-be Gryffindors will be able to do that!"

To Harry's amusement, they hadn't. Charles was wearing a grin that threatened to split his face, but his companions were all frowning at their clothes. Interestingly, Aurora and the people she had travelled with on the train were also dry, and one of their number included Hermione, the girl that had asked him for help with Neville's toad. She was wearing a small smile, and Harry had a feeling it had been her to cast it.

They waited in the entrance hall for a few minutes, the people that were still in their sodden clothes enjoying the warmth. Soon, a stern looking woman entered from the large doors that Harry assumed led to the great hall.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, looking relieved that another adult was there.

"Thank you, Hagrid, I shall take them from here."

He left, but Harry made sure to remember their names, Professor McGonagall and Hagrid. Was he a professor? Harry didn't think so. Hagrid didn't look nearly professional enough. Even so, McGonagall was clearly in charge of the situation as she exuded an aura of power. She would not be someone it would be fun to cross. "Welcome to Hogwarts. The start of term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seat in the great hall, you must be sorted. The sorting is extremely important because while you are here, your house will be something like your family. You will have classes with your house, you will sleep with your house and you will eat with your house.

"While you are at Hogwarts, you may earn house points for good work, and you may lose them by breaking the rules. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, which grants your house certain bonuses that you would not have otherwise. I hope that you shall all become a great credit to your houses, and also to the school as a whole.

"The sorting ceremony will take place in a few short minutes in front of the rest of the school. When your name is called, walk to the centre of the room, take a seat on the stool and put on the hat. I suggest you smarten yourselves up before you enter."

Harry did as she asked, straightening his robes and tie, only mildly interested when a horde of ghosts poured into the room. He made another mental note to research on what it took to become one. Immortality was a fascinating concept that he wanted to do a lot more research into, btu he feared it would require a sacrifice larger than he was willing to pay.

Professor McGonagall strode in through a different door this time, and ushered them towards a door on the right side of the hall that she had entered through originally. She pushed it open, and once again there was a chorus of gasps as the students took in what was inside. It was a large stone room with four huge tables inside, stretching the length of the room on the left and right. A multitude of students sat at them, all staring at the first-years in silence. The tables were laid with glittering plates and goblets, although they were empty. At the front was a smaller table, upon which many members of staff were sitting, and just in front of that was a podium, where a man with a long, wispy grey beard was standing. In the centre of the room, there was a small wooden stool, upon which sat an old and battered-looking wizard's hat.

The ceiling, however, was the thing that really took his breath away. There were candles that lit up the entire room, floating in midair. Not only that but instead of a roof, there was what looked like a starry night sky. He knew that it couldn't be real, of course, but the illusion was so convincing that he had a hard time not believing his eyes. Another thing on his mental to-do list then.

After a few seconds of silence, a tear on the side of the hat opened wider and began to sing a song. It was dull, and only explained things he had heard dozens of times before. Instead, he opted to look at the old man on the high table. There was a sense of contentment that washed through him whenever the man swept his gaze over the first years, and the perpetual twinkle in his eyes seemed unnatural. Whenever it happened, he just opted to imagine himself stuffing the feeling into a box and dropping the box off a cliff into a roiling sea. Strangely, it seemed to help quite a lot. Soon enough though, Professor McGonagall walked to the hat and picked up a scroll of parchment. She cleared her throat, then began: "Abbot, Hannah!" a pink-faced girl walked to the front, and while shaking, picked up the hat and stuffed it on her head, which immediately fell down over her eyes. She sat down and waited, a few seconds later it opened its mouth again and yelled, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

At this, the table on the near right erupted into cheering, and Hannah hurried over there and sat down, instantly congratulated by her peers. After waiting for the hall to calm down, McGonagall announced the next name, "Bones, Susan!" As soon as the girl sat down on the stool with the hat on, it again yelled "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The next was a Ravenclaw, a small boy with glasses announced as Terry Boot. After that came another Ravenclaw, Mandy Brockenhurst, but Lavender Brown became the first new Gryffindor to join the year. The applause was thunderous, he could see several redheads like the one standing next to his brother cheering, and he wondered why their family was so big. Hermione went to Ravenclaw, Neville to Gryffindor and though Hermione seemed pleased, there was an audible swallow Neville let out when he was assigned a house.

A few names later the first Slytherin was called, a girl he had never met before named Pansy Parkinson. Then it was Malfoy's turn. He tried to look prepared, but he could see a tinge of nervousness in his eyes. He put the hat down over his eyes and a few seconds later, "SLYTHERIN!" was called. He watched him swagger to the table on the far left, wearing an overjoyed expression. Harry started feeling slightly worried, what if he wasn't a Slytherin, or even worse, what if he was in the same house as his brother?

After tension started building in the air between the rest of the first years, "Potter, Aurora!" Was called. The hall became silent, punctuated only by a few murmurs of confusion. He had seen his name in the papers a few times, but he doubted the public even knew of his sister's existence. The hat touched her head and opened its mouth, as if it were going to say a house immediately, but shortly after, the tear closed. It remained silent for a few minutes, the longest sorting so far. The hat seemed to make a decision and opened its mouth, uttering exactly what Harry had expected, "RAVENCLAW!"

"Potter, Charles!" was called next. The entire hall waited with bated breath for the result, but even before the hat had touched Charles' head, it called out his house, "GRYFFINDOR!" What followed was arguably the longest applause so far. She could see that many of the Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs were looking slightly disappointed, but then, finally, as the applause died down, it was his turn.

"Potter, Hadrian!"

He started walking up the central aisle, feeling all the eyes in the room locked on him.

He breathed in, and out, and when he reached the stool, he lifted off the hat and placed it firmly down on his head.

"Hmm… there is a lot of resentment in you. Not burning, like a Gryffindor, but cold, like ice. Like a Slytherin."

"Not Gryffindor, just not there." Harry thought desperately.

"No? You could do well there. They would stoke your compassion and empathy. You would be welcomed into your family completely and they would likely not harbour any lasting resentment."

"Resentment? To me? What have I done?"

"I can see why you would think that, but Harry, see it from their perspective. You represent a failure to your father. Both a failure of his duties and a father and a failure of an experiment he would have sacrificed everything for. To Charles, you are a wedge, placed in this world to drive him and his parents slowly further and further apart. In his mind, he should be the only one."

"And Lily?"

"Lily is more complicated. It involves her past, something that I am forbidden to divulge."

"It's not my fault they sent me away! They forced me to do unspeakable things for nine years!"

"I know."

"Then you have to understand. I cannot be in the same house as them, no matter what I stand to gain."

"You are sure?"

"Yes."

The hat seemed to let out a sigh, as if he had disappointed it.

"Very well. SLYTHERIN!"

Harry let out a sigh of relief, and gave the hat to McGonagall with trembling hands, hands that were shaking for entirely different reasons than those he had put the hat on with. Was that all he was to his family? Just an obstacle they needed to overleap? It didn't seem like much of a future. At least it would be interesting to see how his parents reacted, perhaps he would base his plans on their decisions. Yes, it had been a long day. Food first, plotting later.

It was then that he noticed that the stares from all of the tables were decidedly less friendly. It was as if the temperature had dropped by a few degrees – in fact it probably had, since the headmaster was looking upon him with a thinly disguised glare. He walked off shakily to the table on the far left, but not before that was an unintelligible insult that originated from the far right. That was likely why the Gryffindor and Slytherin tables were on opposite sides of the room, then.

He steadfastly ignored the rest of his table and sat down next to Theo. Slowly, the sorting finished and Blaise strutted over to the table, having been picked last. Thankfully, the rest of the house had the same mentality and ignored him until the very end, where a level voice softly called out from the opposite end of the table, carrying as if by magic, "First-years, stay seated."

It was an older boy who had spoken, likely around sixth year. He was waiting near the head of the table silently, studying the first-years as if they were interesting specimens for dissection.

Eventually, the chatter at the other tables died down as everyone else made their way out of the hall. The older boy stood up, looking directly at Harry for a few seconds before his gaze moved on. He spoke in the same low voice as he had before, forcing the children to be silent in order to hear him.

"My name is Albert Harrington. I am the sixth-year male prefect and have been assigned the unfortunate job of bringing you down to the dungeons. However, first there are several ground rules you must be aware of. Number one: The house must present itself as a whole. This means no fighting in public. If you have a disagreement, you will sort it out either in the common room or your dormitories. Never outside of the dungeons. None of the other three houses respect us, so if you do not present a united front, they shall prey upon you like vultures ripping apart carrion. Number two: Slytherin house secrets. Now that you have been sorted, you will gradually become informed of a number of secrets that this house holds closely. These give us a large advantage over the other houses, and is a major factor of our continued leadership. If you disclose any of this information to a single member of another house, you can be sure that you will be punished most harshly. This brings us onto the next rule, Number three: your standards must be high. We do not hold those who slack off on work in high esteem. They are viewed as weak, and little more than punching bags for the rest of the house. I expect you to be at the top of your class rankings. Finally, number four: do not get caught. The chances that you partake in unsavoury actions is rather high. Our house does not punish small transgressions of the rules: in fact, we encourage it. However, our head of house, Professor Snape, will not expend any effort to give you a lighter sentence because of it. If you get caught, you're on your own. That is all, follow me."

With that small speech, he turned around and marched quickly out of the Great Hall, the first-years scrambling to catch up. They almost immediately started whispering to each other – although Theo and Blaise were clearly well-versed on the etiquette and expectations required by Slytherin, Harry and Tracey were taking everything in and attempting to make themselves as inconspicuous as possible. Neither of them wanted to make a mistake on the first day. After all – first impressions were important.

Dumbledore looked down on all of the students leaving the hall and smiled. It was certainly going to be an interesting year. The scions of several Ancient and Noble houses were joining the school, One of the teaching staff had gone to Albania and was now showing signs of possession, and the great Harry Potter had seemingly survived his torment without too many scars.

Harry had been an interesting case. Albus remembered the night that Voldemort had entered his house and attempted to kill the boy. Harry and Charles had both been scarred with the same mark: Sowillo, the ancient rune for power. James and Lily had both been shocked at the scarring, assuming they were the reason Charles had been able to defeat He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but Dumbledore knew better. Although there had been some latent dark magic left over in Charles' scar, the stench from Harry's had been nearly overpowering. He had decided that it would be best for the boy to be studied; normal dark magic was almost like a patch sewn onto a healthy core, but Harry's had been different. The magic almost seemed to stain his very soul – as if it was part of him. It was a fairly unique phenomena, and one Albus had been determined to get to the bottom of. There were other reasons as well. Namely, he was fairly sure the killing curse had been used. The fact that everyone had survived was not a miracle, Albus didn't believe in those. That meant the boy had found a cure, and perhaps not just for Avada. The spell acted to sever a soul from a body, and if the cure was more generalised, preventing the soul from leaving the body at all, it may be able to prevent several other nasty curses. He had been struck with a decision, torture – for he would not let himself shy away from the word – torture a child for ten years, or leave the entire wizarding population in jeopardy? There was only one answer that was even thinkable.

So although it was unpleasant, he had contacted Saul Croaker – the voice of the unspeakables – and they had discussed the research that would need to be undertaken. As it was his magic that was to be studied, he could unfortunately not have been disposed of there and kept in stasis – he had to be alive. This was annoying, as to keep a magical child imprisoned was dangerous, and could have led to several unforeseen consequences when the boy's magic reacted to the torture. It meant that a balancing act had to be done; to educate the child as little as possible while keeping him and his magic convinced that he was safe. Albus had fabricated a half-truth to tell Harry's parents, he had said that Voldemort had wounded Harry so badly that he had to be taken to an intensive care unit and was forbidden any visitors. Of course the lie would be instantly broken if they were to ask the child after being freed, but Albus had a feeling that they wouldn't. And if not, there was always the option of obliviation.

Thankfully they had succeeded in keeping the boy's magic contained – an Obscurus was dangerous to handle even by the most experienced wizards. The results had been comprehensive and had shown that the dark curse was in fact much more than just magic, it was a fragment of a wizard's soul. Upon discovering that, they realised it would be far too dangerous to keep the boy in captivity, if the fragment was able to gain control – a frightening prospect – Harry would have the complete knowledge and skill of the soul, and there was only one possible owner of the fragment – Tom. Albus had no desire to release The Dark Lord after so little time, and so had acquiesced to let Harry stay at the school where he could watch him.

The only thing he could do was wait. Wait, and continue the experiments detailed by the Unspeakables, modifying his memory if and when it was convenient, and hope that the balance prevailed and his cure was successful. Only time would tell.