Sunday, 3rd September

At last the train began to slow down and Harry heard the racket up and down it as everybody scrambled to get their luggage and pets assembled, ready for departure. Ron and Hermione were supposed to supervise all this; they disappeared from the carriage again, leaving Harry and the others to look after their respective animals.

The giant orange fur ball that Hermione had been carrying was apparently a cat named Crookshanks - although, based on his lion-like appearance and shockingly intelligent yellow gaze, Harry would bet good money on him being at least half-Kneazle. Ron's owl was named Pigwidgeon, and it would appear that he was as stupid as Crookshanks was clever.

"I'll carry that owl, if you like" Luna said, reaching for the owl's cage as Neville stowed Trevor carefully in an inside pocket.

"Thanks" he replied gratefully, passing it to her and hoisting Hedwig's cage more securely into his arms.

They shuffled out of the compartment feeling the first sting of the night air on their faces as they joined the crowd in the corridor. Slowly they moved toward the doors and Harry got the scent of pine trees and damp earth.

"Firs' years!" he heard a familiar voice call, "Firs' years over here!"

Stepping down onto the platform, Harry saw the gigantic outline of Hagrid beckoning the terrified-looking new students forward. He'd read that first years were brought to the castle by boats that travelled across the Great Lake, and although he was somewhat sad he'd miss out on that, he was twice as grateful that he wouldn't have to stand out any earlier than what was strictly necessary.

Harry followed the rest of the school along the platform and out onto a rough mud track, where at least a hundred stagecoaches awaited. He was being jostled by the crowd around him which was starting to get on his nerves - Harry had a thing about tight, enclosed spaces - but much to his relief, the other students quickly broke off into groups as soon as they reached the dark rain-washed road outside Hogsmeade station.

"Come on" Ginny said next to him, "Let's get a carriage and wait for the others".

Nodding, he followed her through the masses, keeping his gaze firmly focused on the red hair in front of him until, at last, they reached the long line of stagecoaches that would bring them to the school. Harry emerged from the crowd, took a deep breath of crisp, clean air, and then-

"Huh".

In front of him, stood… horses? If he had to give them a name, he supposed that was as good as any, although there was something reptilian about them, too. They were completely fleshless, their black coats clinging to their skeletons, of which every bone was visible. Their heads were dragonish, and their pupil-less eyes white and staring. Wings sprouted from each wither - vast, black leathery wings that looked as though they ought to belong to giant bats. Standing still and quiet in the gloom, the creatures looked eerie and sinister but also, somehow, beautiful.

"Where's Pig?"

Harry blinked, snapping himself out of it and turned to find Ron standing right behind him.

"He's, uh… Luna has him" he replied, distractedly, "Do thestrals always pull the carriages? I didn't think the Ministry would be too happy with XXXX-rated Dark creatures around so many students. Are they friendly?"

Ron was… staring at him.

"... Are what friendly?"

"The thestrals" Harry said, gesturing at them, "Pulling the carriages".

"... Mate, there's nothing pulling those carriages". The taller boy was frowning now, looking genuinely concerned. "Are you feeling alright?"

"Of course I'm feeling alright!" he snapped, growing impatient, but before he could continue, Hermione emerged from the crowd.

"Hey, where's Crookshanks?"

"Ginny's got him" Harry said, "Can you see them?"

She glanced around, seeming confused. "See what?"

He sighed. "I'll take that as a no, then".

"Harry reckons there's something pulling the carriages" Ron explained, "Some illegal Dark creature, apparently".

"They're not illegal, they're just Dark!" he said, before turning to Hermione, "You've read Fantastic Beasts, right?"

"Of course".

"Then believe me when I tell you that there are thestrals pulling those carriages!"

"Thestrals?!" she exclaimed, "But the only people who can see them are those who have seen death! How can you- oh".

Hermione was now looking distinctly uncomfortable, and even Ron had turned somewhat red in embarrassment. In his mind, Harry saw a flash of green and heard the echo of pleading screams.

"Don't get all maudlin on me now" he said, forcing a smile, "I'm just curious why the Ministry allows it considering how anti-Dark they are about everything else".

"That is a good point" she admitted, frowning, "Especially since thestrals are supposed to be deeply unlucky and-"

Harry was already waving a dismissive hand. "No, they're not, that's just more anti-Dark rhetoric that the Ministry tells people to fuel their suspicions about magical creatures! Although that does make me wonder if they even know about this, given how few people can actually see them…"

"Here you are" Luna announced, suddenly appearing next to them, holding out Pigwideon's cage, "He's a sweet little owl, isn't he?"

The owl in question was twittering excitedly, his large eyes almost comical looking on his tiny body as he looked around at each of them in turn.

"Oh, uh… yeah, he's… alright" Ron replied, taking the cage from her and moving to store it in the carriage next to them.

She turned her silvery gaze to Harry next. "I can see them too, you know".

He blinked, startled. "Can you?"

"Oh yes. I've been able to see them ever since my first day here. They've always pulled the carriages… Don't worry - you're just as sane as I am".

Smiling faintly, she climbed into the musty interior of the carriage after Ron. Hermione, both eyebrows raised, gave Harry a somewhat disbelieving look.

"I wouldn't find that very reassuring if I were you".

As soon as all five of them were squished into the carriage - Neville having joined them a minute later, breathless and red-faced as he explained that Trevor had leapt out of his pocket again - the thestrals took off.

Harry knew that he wasn't imagining them and he also knew that, no matter what Hermione or the others thought, Luna wasn't insane either. The strange horse-like beings did exist, and they were responsible for carrying them up to the school.

They were oddly… graceful creatures, he mused, watching the silhouettes of the thestrals moving beyond the window, despite their reputation of being omens of evil and misfortune. He'd meant what he said to Hermione. All of that bad luck rubbish was just prejudice against what was arguably the most Dark creature there was - after dementors, perhaps, but Harry hesitated to classify them as creatures given that they were more non-beings than anything else.

He mentally added the reclassification of magical beings and creatures to The List.

Rattling and swaying, the carriages moved in convoy up the road. Harry watched as they trundled toward a pair of magnificent wrought iron gates, flanked with stone columns topped with winged boars. Ahead of them, he caught his first sight of Hogwarts.

The castle loomed high above them - a towering mass of turrets, jet-black against the dark sky, here and there a window blazing fiery bright. It had giant oak front doors which appeared to lead into a cavernous entrance hall, which was lit with flaming torches and housed a magnificent marble staircase that Harry could see from here.

The carriages jingled to a halt near the stone steps leading up to the oak front doors and he slowly, cautiously got out. He turned to the strange, skeletal creatures standing quietly in the chill night air, their blank white eyes gleaming back at him.

"... Thanks" he said, belatedly, and much to his surprise, the thestral closest to him tossed his dragon-like head as if nodding in response. He'd read that they were clever, of course, but he hadn't realised that they could understand him this well.

"Are you coming or what?" Ron called, and Harry turned only to find the others waiting for him at the base of the stone steps. He quickly jogged to catch up with them, keeping an eye out for Professor McGonagall who, according to Dumbledore, would lead him to his sorting.

"Potter!"

He turned at the voice - as did quite a number of other students, who were now scanning the crowd with wide, gawking eyes, no doubt hoping to catch a glimpse of him. Harry grit his teeth, bracing himself for the inevitable confrontation, but thankfully, Professor McGonagall levelled a stern gaze at the crowd surrounding him and they were quick to cross the flagged stone floor to the double doors to the right, which seemingly led to the Great Hall.

He quietly told the others he'd see them later, and then gave the older woman a grateful look. McGonagall was as prim and proper looking as ever, in rich emerald-green robes that suited her dark hair and complexion well but were still rather Slytherin of her.

Which reminded him…

"Good evening, professor" Harry greeted, "Remus said he'll accept his winnings by owl".

She stared at him for a moment, before briefly closing her eyes and letting out a heavy sigh.

"I should never have made that damn bet… Very well. Come with me".

McGonagall led him across the hall just as there came a loud, resounding knock on the huge wooden doors and Hagrid's beaming, bushy face appeared, flanked by tiny, trembling children.

"The firs' years, professor" he said, before winking at Harry who smiled in response.

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

One by one the first years flocked into the large hall and followed him and McGonagall across the flagstones to a small, empty chamber off the hall. They all crowded in, and Harry suddenly found himself standing far closer to the tiny strangers than he liked.

"Welcome to Hogwarts" Professor McGonagall began, "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your Houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your House will be something like your family within Hogwarts-"

Harry tuned the rest of her speech out. It wasn't anything that he didn't know already, and right now he was too busy staring at these random children and wondering if he'd ever, truly been like them. In size, perhaps, he reluctantly had to admit, especially given that he was only half a head taller than some of them now - but mentally? Emotionally? Not a chance.

Just look at them! All so happy and nervous and excited! He couldn't ever remember being happy while with the Dursleys, and the only time he'd ever felt excited at St Brutus was when he succeeded at casting a new spell. Imagine feeling that good all the damn time…

"-shall return when we are ready for you. Please wait quietly".

She gave Harry one last look as if chastising him for zoning out - or, far more likely, chastising him for losing her a few galleons - before stepping out of the room and closing the door after her.

Immediately, he found two dozen curious eyes burning into him and he desperately hoped that McGonagall would come back before any of these little monsters started asking him-

"Are you really Harry Potter?"

Fuck.

Harry briefly closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and then turned to face the hoard.

"Yes" he said, reluctantly, "I am really Harry Potter".

"But are you really?" the girl pressed, staring up at him with accusatory brown eyes, "Really really?"

"Really really".

She studied him for another moment before folding her arms across her chest and announcing with absolute conviction, "I don't believe you".

Merlin! This was why he didn't want to come to Hogwarts. Was it too late to back out yet?

"Well, I can't stop you from believing what you like, but it's the truth" he replied, glancing at the door and wishing that, any second now, Professor McGonagall would come back and lead them into the Great Hall.

And then the girl screamed.

Spinning back around, hands half-raised and a curse on his lips, Harry froze when he realised that they weren't under attack - they were under ghosts. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing.

What looked like a fat little monk was saying, "Forgive and forget, I say; we ought to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost- I say, what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years. Nobody answered.

"New students!" the Fat Friar said, smiling around at them, "About to be sorted, I suppose? Hope to see you in Hufflepuff! My old House, you know".

"Move along now" said a sharp voice, "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start".

Oh thank Merlin, she was back!

"Now, form a line and follow me" McGonagall told the first years, and Harry very happily waited until the final kid had disappeared through the door in front of them before following.

He kept his head down as they stepped into the Great Hall, both because he didn't want anyone to notice him and also because he felt absolutely ridiculous, being led up to the front of the room with a group of first years - and he knew that if he accidentally made eye-contact with Ron or the twins, then they'd burst out laughing and he'd be done for.

At least he could go at the very end, he supposed. It would somehow be worse if he had to go in the middle of a group of tiny eleven-year-olds, or even go first and look like their leader - a mother duck followed by two dozen little ducklings. This was, perhaps, the first time in his life that he'd ever been grateful for his short, skinny stature.

Professor McGonagall led them up the front of the room so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teacher's head table behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver.

Harry had never even imagined such a strange and splendid place. The Great Hall was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in midair over four long tables, laid with glittering golden plates and goblets, where the rest of the students were sitting.

Mainly to avoid all the staring eyes, he looked upward and saw a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. He'd read about it, in Hogwarts, A History. It was meant to have been bewitched centuries ago to look like the sky outside. It was hard to believe that there was a ceiling there at all, it was so realistic.

In the middle of the first year's line, McGonagall had silently placed a four-legged stool, on top of which was a pointed wizard's hat which, to Harry's shock and amusement, had just started to sing. So this was how they were sorted - and to think that Fred and George had tried to convince him he'd have to wrestle a troll!

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again. Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted" she said, "Abercrombie, Euan!"

A terrified‐looking boy stumbled forward out of the line and put the Hat on his head; it was only prevented from falling right down to his shoulders by his very prominent ears. After a moment or two, the brim of the Hat suddenly opened wide as it yelled, "GRYFFINDOR!" and the newly sorted first year took it off and hurried towards the red and gold table on their left.

One by one the children stepped forward as their names were called, and one by one they sat on the tiny stool for one minute, sometimes two, very rarely three, before the Hat spoke out loud and ushered them to their new House. Eventually, it was only Harry and one sweet-looking girl left, and once "Zeller, Rose!" was sorted "HUFFLEPUFF!" - exactly like Madam Malkin had predicted - it was only him standing there.

"And finally… Potter, Harry!"

As if flicking a switch, whispers suddenly burst out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?!"

"He's really here?"

"The Harry Potter?!"

No, he thought sarcastically, the other one. Harry quickly yet reluctantly made his way over to McGonagall, making the terrible mistake of catching Fred's eye on the way and having to frantically shove down a burst of hysterical laughter at the redhead's wide, knowing grin. Merlin, even Neville was smirking at him! He didn't dare check to see the others' expressions.

Reaching the tiny four-legged stool, he glanced down at it and grimaced. "Do I really have to sit for this?"

"Yes" McGonagall replied shortly and he narrowed his eyes at her in response but she returned the look with far more bite so he ended up awkwardly sitting down anyway.

This was retaliation for telling her she'd lost the bet, he just knew it.

The last thing Harry saw before the Hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the Hat.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" a voice sounded in his ear, soft but ancient, "A curious mind, very curious indeed... There's talent, oh my goodness, yes - and a nice thirst to prove yourself… Plenty of ambition, I see... and power, too, but… tempered by a deep sense of fairness… Difficult. Very difficult… So where shall I put you?"

"Intelligence, ambition, and power" Harry murmured back, "I'd have thought it'd be an easy choice".

The Hat chuckled, a warm, rich sound.

"Yes, one would think so, wouldn't they? The problem is, Mr Potter, you'd do well in several places… Plenty of courage, and you're certainly not afraid of a challenge - that'd serve you well in Gryffindor, and yet… no" it mused, "No, it's not the right fit anymore, is it? If you were younger, then perhaps… No. Too much cunning for that now… And, intelligence, you said? Oh yes, but your thirst for knowledge isn't purely altruistic, is it?"

Well. Harry had to give him that.

"Not a Ravenclaw either then… I mentioned fairness… You have a great desire for equality, for peace and justice, much like a Hufflepuff… but you have a darker side too, don't you? Oh yes, there's something lurking there, Mr Potter, something vicious if you want it to be… Intelligence, ambition, and power… And a determination to change the world… Yes. Yes, you're quite right, aren't you? Better be-"

"-SLYTHERIN!" the Hat yelled, and just like that, the flurry of whispers was cut off by an echoing silence.

Harry stood, slowly, handing the hat back to McGonagall, whose lips were pressed into a thin line, although she gave him a tight smile as she took the Hat from his hands as if to say there were no hard feelings.

Turning, he ignored the looks of outrage and utter disbelief on many of the student's faces, feeling the eyes of the entire school weigh heavily down on him. He didn't care what they thought, of course, but that didn't make being the sudden centre of attention any less uncomfortable.

As he passed Dumbledore, he gave the man a sideways glance, and although there was definitely… something in the man's eyes, he smiled back at him readily enough and then began to clap, followed shortly by Hagrid, Professor Sprout, Professor Flitwick, and then, surprisingly, Professor Snape.

Most of the Slytherins were impressively blank-faced, but Harry could still tell that some of them were fuming whereas others, somewhat strangely, seemed amused. As Snape started to applaud him, however, a few of them changed their tone, the hostile glares dialling down a bit as they all followed their Head of House's lead.

He was careful with where he sat, choosing the seat next to an unfamiliar face at the very edge of where the fifth-year group ended so that there was no one to his right. Across from him, Malfoy gave a polite if not exactly friendly nod and he readily nodded back - thank Merlin for Narcissa Black.

A moment later, everyone's attention returned to the front of the room as Dumbledore stood up, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips.

"To our newcomers" he said in a ringing voice, "Welcome! To our old hands - welcome back! There is a time for speech-making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"

And let the year begin.

There was a quiet pop and suddenly, the empty dishes in front of them were piled high with food.

Harry had never seen so many things he liked to eat on one table: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some strange reason, peppermint humbugs.

He watched how the others around him acted for a moment before copying them, filling his plate with delicious-smelling food that he couldn't wait to taste. As he scooped some mashed potatoes onto his plate, he tried to subtly catch the eye of someone at Gryffindor, but he couldn't see Ginny or Neville, the twins had their backs to him, and Ron and Hermione seemed to have been drawn into a conversation by the same ruff-wearing ghost Harry had seen earlier in the antechamber while waiting for McGonagall to return.

Every House table seemed to have a ghost, in fact, and some tables had more than one. The vast majority were talking animatedly with wide-eyed first years - all except the Bloody Baron, who was floating at the end of their table silently instead.

From what Harry could recall, he was the… nephew? grand-nephew, perhaps? of Salazar Slytherin himself. He wondered if, first of all, the Baron could speak; secondly, if he could speak Parseltongue; and thirdly, if Harry could somehow talk to him in it at some point without anyone else overhearing.

He hadn't exactly had many opportunities to practice while at St Brutus, and before that, he'd never spoken Parseltongue any more than once every year or two - it was rare that he came across a garden snake in a built-up area like Surrey, after all, and his first proper conversation had been with that boa constrictor at the zoo, so maybe…

Directly across from him, Malfoy rather pointedly cleared his throat, and Harry raised an eyebrow in response.

"Potter" he said, his voice perfectly even, "May I introduce you to the rest of our year?"

"You may" he replied, just to see what he'd do, and he wasn't disappointed either when a pink blush rose high on Draco's cheeks.

Evidently, he wasn't used to being second-rate to anyone, and having to cater to the Boy Who Lived, of all people, was starting to grate on him.

"Everyone, this is the Earl of Gloucester, Harry Potter".

And, oh, now wasn't that interesting?

Malfoy had used his earl title rather than the Marquess of Westminster which he'd eventually be called because of Sirius. Either the boy felt threatened and wanted to keep himself as the only marquess in their year - if not in all of Hogwarts - or else he was subtly making a point, trying to gain Harry's loyalty and trust by keeping his future title a secret until Sirius formally announced him as his heir.

Or maybe Draco thought that, by not saying it out loud, it wouldn't come true, meaning that there was still a chance that he himself would inherit the Black dukedom.

"Lord Gloucester, may I introduce the Earl of Berkeley, Theodore Nott".

Harry quickly zoned back in. Three seats down on the other side of the table, a tall, slender boy with somewhat pointed yet delicate features gave him a cordial, if rather emotionless, nod and he quickly nodded back. This would be Theodore Junior, then, given that Harry knew for a fact that the current Marquess of Nottingham shared the same name.

"Next, the Viscount Baring, Blaise Zabini".

Directly next to him, yet another tall, attractive student, this one with dark skin and high cheekbones, gave him a charming grin. Malfoy was introducing them in order of political importance then - smart boy. Zabini's name, however, wasn't familiar to him at all, and he made a mental note to casually ask the Viscount who his father was later on.

"This is the Honourable Daphne Greengrass".

On Nott's far side, a girl with light brown hair and blue eyes gave him a brief smile. The Greengrass's were a well-known pure-blood family - although, to the best of Harry's knowledge, they were currently without a male heir. Being the eldest, Daphne would no doubt be under a mountain of pressure to marry and produce one as soon as she graduated, and he mentally scowled at the thought.

"The Honourable Pansy Parkinson".

Another girl, sitting in between Nott and Malfoy, shorter and with a rounder face, gave him a far less friendly look, but Harry didn't let it bother him. The Parkinson's were famously Dark and even more famously mean-spirited. She would be the toughest of his year to win over - if he ever even could.

"Then you've already met the Honourable Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, of course, and these are Millicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davis".

The last two girls sitting below Zabini smiled at him as well, not as kind as Greengrass but likewise not as hostile as Parkinson. The former, Bulstrode, was black-haired and muscular, while the latter, Davis, was slight with red curls. He didn't recognise either name, aside from a very brief recollection of one of Sirius's ancestors marrying a Bulstrode over a century before. Crabbe and Goyle, as usual, didn't seem to be paying much attention to anything; least of all him.

Some guard dogs, they were.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all" Harry said cheerfully, determined to not make an enemy of anyone even if he could not make them a friend.

"Is it?" Parkinson asked sharply, her scowl firmly in place, "You know, I gotta say, Potter, I'm surprised you ended up in Slytherin".

"You're not the only one" Nott muttered into a goblet of pumpkin juice.

Zabini, on the other hand, looked oddly delighted. "Well, I, for one, was at the very least expecting a hatstall - it would've made things far more interesting".

"A hat stall only occurs if a student's personality is equally suited to two or more Houses" Harry replied, "It was clear to the Hat which House I was best suited for the second it touched my head. And besides, true hatstalls are incredibly rare - there's only one every fifty years or so. The last one was in the seventies and the previous one before that was Professor McGonagall sometime during the nineteen-thirties or forties. My own House was far easier for the Hat to decide".

"… Are you sure it didn't consider you for Ravenclaw?"

He gave a small, almost secretive smile. "Perhaps. But my love of learning is purely for selfish reasons, I assure you".

Zabini snorted and then raised his goblet in mock salute. "Knowledge is power… Perhaps you'll fit in here after all".

"I doubt it!" Pansy snapped, but a warning glance from Malfoy, surprisingly, had her biting back her next words. Instead, she turned her scowl to the food in front of them and began filling her plate with more force than necessary.

Glancing up and down the table, Harry realised that he recognised a few faces - or, more accurately, recognised parts of faces that these students had inherited from family members whose faces he had seen in various books and newspapers over the years.

A few seats above him sat the Carrow twins, the brown-haired daughters of the Viscount Northumberland, and directly across from them sat an inordinately large boy Harry would bet money on being a Warrington given that his stocky build and far-set eyes were identical to those of the Earl of Chesterfield.

The next table over, the Ravenclaws, had familiar features as well. A thin, nervous-looking boy had that exact same jitteriness Harry had seen in a picture of Damocles Belby, the current Viscount Lancaster and the inventor of the Wolfsbane Potion. The boy next to him, dark-haired and dark-eyed, was undoubtedly one of the Davies who had a barony in Boughton.

Beyond that table sat a pink-faced blonde-haired girl about his age who was a dead ringer for the Countess of Oxford, Charlotte Abbot, and the girl that she was talking to vaguely reminded him of the Honourable Amelia Bones, younger sister of the late Lord Middleton and the current Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

And then, finally, the Gryffindor table. He already knew the Weasleys and Neville, of course, but there were a handful of future lords and ladies in addition to them too - as well as quite a number of terribly upset faces that were scowling directly at him fiercely.

Harry frowned. "What's their problem?"

Zabini followed his gaze and snorted. "You're kidding right? You're Harry Potter! The Boy Who bloody Lived! Everyone thought for sure that you'd be in Gryffindor".

"Why?" he countered, "Because my very dead parents whom I don't remember who had absolutely zero influence on my life and upbringing were both in Gryffindor?"

There was a beat of silence, and then Zabini grimaced.

"Ah, well, when you put it like that…"

Across from them Greengrass glanced over her shoulder at the still-glowering students and scowled. "Honestly, they wouldn't be half this mad if you were in Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw. You being in Slytherin is what's really pissing them off".

"Because this was the Dark Lord's house?"

The entire table seemed to freeze.

Harry carefully picked up his goblet of pumpkin juice and took a sip, expertly masking his unease. "Something I said?"

Across from him, Malfoy seemed to have paled - although given his already whiter-than-white complexion, it was rather difficult to tell.

"... You called him the Dark Lord" he answered quietly, and Harry nodded. "I did. That was his title, was it not? He was a Dark wizard and he was also the Duke of Lincoln, Devon, and Somerset, ergo; the Dark Lord".

"Well… you see… Lord Gloucester, uh…" Draco's face was doing funny things. "The thing is, those who did not… agree with the Dark Lord, shall we say, refused to acknowledge his claim on the Peverell dukedoms, and, well, because of that, those who correctly referred to him as the Dark Lord were… well…"

"His supporters" Nott finished bluntly, his dark eyes curious, "Put simply, by calling him the Dark Lord you are telling every single person in the general vicinity that you are one of his followers".

"Well, that's bullshit". Harry scoffed. "Just because I have a bit of manners and a modicum of respect for the man, I'm suddenly the anti-Christ?"

"The anti-what?"

Oh. Right. Pure-bloods.

"Nevermind" Harry said instead, "Look. I'm just going to keep calling him the Dark Lord because that's what he was. However you wish to interpret that, is your own business".

"And yours too, if anyone in Gryffindor overhears you!" Malfoy shot back, "Not to mind-"

He glanced further up along the table where the older years were doing a bad job of pretending not to listen in. Leaning forward, he lowered his voice and continued.

"Not to mind some of the students in your own House who might just take offence to the Dark Lord's vanquisher calling him by the title only his most devout used... Understand?"

"Oh, I understand alright" Harry replied easily, "But like I said; that's their business, not mine".

"Do you have a death wish?!"

"Do they?"

Draco didn't seem to know how to respond to that, and sat back in his seat, flummoxed. Zabini, however, looked intrigued and leaned even closer.

"You know, Lord Gloucester, there were quite a few rumours when you didn't show up for our first year. Personally, I was always a fan of the getting-special-training-on-a-remote-mountaintop story… Is it true?"

"No" he said, smirking as the boy's face immediately fell, "I was raised by muggles, actually - for a while, at least. But what I will say, is that wherever I was after that, I learned some, uh… interesting spells".

"Our kind of interesting or Gryffindor's kind of interesting?"

"If they were Gryffindor's kind of interesting, don't you think I'd be wearing red and gold right now?" he shot back, "Don't worry about retaliation, Lord Baring. I am more than capable of defending myself".

The boy's eyes narrowed in consideration, and after a moment, he smirked and held out a hand.

"Call me Blaise".

"Harry, then" he returned, ignoring Malfoy's undignified squawking as he shook it.

"You know what, Harry?" Blaise said, grinning, "I think this is going to be our most interesting year yet".