Untitled Hogwarts Fragment

Chapter One: Introduction/Backstory

The Graves of Europe were definitely not in any way affiliated with those Muggle-lovers over in America, no way, no how. They were a proper Pureblooded family, of a proud heritage, including ancestors from other high-class families including the Blacks and Malfoys. In fact, they were so sure of their impressive lineage that they bragged to quite a few about the great-grandfather Gaunt hidden somewhere among the twisted branches of their family tree. Naturally, this meant that when the Dark Lord rose to power, they joined his side without hesitation. They couldn’t be shown up by the Blacks or Malfoys, after all.

Mr. Graves was a man of average height, with straight black hair and dark eyes. He was proud to be one of the great Lord Voldemort’s right-hand men, trusted enough by the Dark Lord to be confided in when it came to planning or welcoming new blood into the ranks of Death Eaters.

(He did not know that this subtle form of manipulation was something Tom Riddle used on all of his followers, making them feel special by telling them they were his most trusted soldiers, confiding faux plans to them, sharing false fears of welcoming the wrong person into the fold.)

Mrs. Graves, on the other hand, was not thrilled to be working as closely as they were with Lord Voldemort. She had a feeling that it would come back to harm them, if the mutterings of that Peter Pettigrew were to be believed, sooner rather than later. She wanted to stick more to the fringes of the group, like the Malfoys were doing. That way, they had a fall back if they were ever prosecuted. They could say they had been Imperiused, mind-controlled, and were there unwillingly because of their connection to the Gaunt family Lord Voldemort was so obsessed with. They would soon have a son to care for, after all.

She had shared her fears with her husband, only to be brushed off. He was too deep in the Dark Lord’s web of lies and manipulation to see clearly anymore. Surprisingly, she found an ally in Narcissa Malfoy, who was also planning on having a child at some point and helped her a great deal in preparing for hers. They grew to be close friends over the years of unfortunate service to the Dark Lord and were close as sisters by the time her dear son Killian was born.

Killian, her beautiful son with his strange eyes and quiet demeanor. He was so observant, always surveying the room, avidly watching what everyone was doing. His first bought of accidental magic came quite early to her dismay; at just four years old he wanted a cookie from the jar she kept on the fridge so much he levitated it right down into his arms. She was so startled she didn’t know how to react. Mr. Graves applauded him, taking this as proof that their son was something special, and couldn’t wait to introduce him to the Dark Lord.

This frightened Mrs. Graves. She didn’t want Killian involved in all of that mess, wanted him to stay innocent for as long as possible. Merlin, he hadn’t even gotten his wand yet, nor been to Diagon Alley at all! But for all her protesting, her husband was adamant that Killian would benefit from knowing the Dark Lord and the rest of the Death Eaters, that he could learn so much from them.

(He didn’t want his wife to know that what he really wanted was more favor with the Dark Lord, and that He had already expressed interest in their child as Mr. Graves had gone to him immediately after his first expression of magic.)

Killian’s father began grooming him at five years old. He was to fill the role of Mr. Graves himself if he ever were to die in service of the Dark Lord: Killian was to be the Dark Lord’s right-hand man. The Ministry of Magic was too busy trying to fend off Death Eaters and panic in the general populace as well as keeping Muggles in the dark about the War going on under their noses that they weren’t monitoring whether underaged witches or wizards used magic, and Mr. Graves took this as the perfect opportunity to teach his son some useful magic.

Killian hated lessons with his father more than almost anything, even being left all alone in the house save for their House-Elves, Pinky and Penny. His father would find creatures from their sprawling gardens, like Horklumps and Gnomes, to demonstrate spells on, and then make him do the same. He hated killing the poor creatures, especially hated when his father performed Crucio on them and made them writhe in agony. The only reason he was pressured into performing such horrific spells was that his father threatened to use them on Killian himself or his mother, and Killian loved his mother more than anything in the world.

He understood that his father wasn’t always this way. His mother told stories of a chivalrous young man that stole her heart when they were fresh out of Hogwarts, when she had worked for the Ministry. Killian wished he had known that side of his father as opposed to this new, twisted version. He fantasized of them going to the garden with his mother to observe the Fairies and Gnomes fighting over which flowers belong to whom, learn spells of healing and cleaning rather than destruction and death, maybe even fly around on brooms together and throw a Quaffle.

At seven he realized that those fantasies were only ever going to be just that: fantasies.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

His introduction to the Dark Lord would be forever imprinted on his brain.

It was a Tuesday afternoon, partly cloudy, with the smell of an incoming thunderstorm on the breeze. He was a mere eight years old, and it was sometime in early August. His mother had been fretting all morning, and his father had been looming and a bit threatening. Killian didn’t want to meet this stranger that had twisted his family so, didn’t want to meet the man that caused his father to teach him such horrible things. He was a little frightened. Okay, he was very frightened.

Dressed in his best clothes, he waited by the stairwell as his parents prepared to Apparate. They were going to a preselected meeting place, chosen by the Dark Lord, and Killian hoped it wasn’t someplace scary like a graveyard most Death Eater meetings were held, or a Muggle home that the Dark Lord had taken over by killing the non-magic owners. His father yanked on his arm a bit, pulling him over to his mother. She took his hand much more gently, guiding him to stand between them before whispering “Hold on tight, my little Nundu. Don’t let go of my hand.”

There was a squeezing sensation all around him, stretching and pulling and jerking him around, and Killian felt sick. He clutched his mother’s hand in an iron grip and stumbled upon impact with the ground, tripping to his knees. He felt nauseous, but he closed his eyes and pushed the feeling back. It wouldn’t do to make a mess of himself and upset father so early on. To his surprise, they were outside of the Malfoy’s manor, its grand fence looming before them, snowy white peafowl wandering in the sprawling gardens beyond. He forgot his unease for a moment, taking in the sight of such an illustrious house with wonder-filled eyes.

His mother chuckled a bit at his expression, fluffing his hair fondly and tugging him to his feet. Siphoning the dirt from his robes, she whispered to him, “Beautiful, isn’t it? The first time Narcissa invited me over I had the same expression.”

Killian nodded dumbly, rendered mute and unable to express his amazement. His father curled his lip at him before stalking forward confidently, Killian’s mother taking a few steps towards the house as well before turning around to tug at him.

“Come along, Killi, we must be going now before your father gets upset, you know what he’s like. Come, come, the inside is so much more impressive, and you can finally meet Narcissa! She just had a beautiful boy, Malfoy I believe, and he’s just precious! Once he’s older I’m sure you’ll be the best of friends.” She babbled, Killian sensing the nervous color to her voice. His mother only rambled like that if she was very nervous or uncomfortable, a sort of defense mechanism to hide that fact.

“Okay, mother.” He whispered, quickening his stride so he walked a few steps behind his father, the way he liked, while still staying next to his mother.

They entered the grand foyer of the mansion and he was struck once again by its magnificence. At just eight years old he hadn’t really been anywhere other than his house, especially when his father began teaching him. He didn’t have much time to take any of it in, tugged along to a side room that opened into a very large area with a table the length of the room in the center. The ceilings were so high above his head, he felt very small and insignificant.

(Surprisingly, or otherwise, Killian wasn’t really bothered by the feeling. It was almost comforting to think that, in the grand scheme of things, he would have very little impact on the world, good or bad.)

There were already a few people there, only two of which he recognized by their descriptions. 

Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy stood by a large fireplace towards the center of the wall, and Lucius waved them over with a smirk that could almost be called friendly. “Would you look at that, the guests of honor have arrived! And is this our dear boy Killian?” He simpered. Killian didn’t know how to react to him, this stranger he’d only heard vaguely about, who seemed to make a condescending tone sound lovingly friendly. He settled for nodding his head slowly, not making proper eye contact. Lucius, he discovered, was quite intimidating.

“Oh, how precious. He’s shy.” Lucius said to his father, and Killian hunched a little. His father would be cross with him later for sure, would blame him for Lucius’s haughty teasing.

“Hello, dear sister, how have you been of late?” Narcissa asked his mother quietly. He instantly liked her a might more than Lucius, her tone was soft and cloudy, peaceful.

“I’ve been good, and you? Oh, and this is my little Nundu, Killian. Killi, come here a moment?” His mother said, beckoning from a few feet away. He quickly shuffled over, any excuse to get a bit further from his father and Lucius’s hatefully friendly banter.

“Nice to meet you.” He mumbled, looking up from the ground a little. Narcissa was very pretty, with beautiful blonde hair done up in an intricate braid and piercing, though not unkind, blue eyes. He flushed a bit, looking away from her eyes.

“It’s very nice to meet you too, Killian. I’m sure your mother told you, but I’ve just had a little boy myself, Malfoy, and would love for you to meet him sometime.” Narcissa said kindly, softening a bit at the boy’s apparent introversion. She felt a flash of pity before smothering it. He would have to get over that shy phase soon if he were to impress the Dark Lord. Poor boy, he probably had no idea why he was here.

The room grew suddenly colder, and a hush fell over the crowd, quiet conversations ending as soon as the temperature seemed to drop. Killian shivered, feeling scared and uncertain all at once, hiding behind his mother a bit. To his surprise, she pushed him away before gesturing to where he was supposed to sit at the big table. He was seated next to his father and a stranger, heart rate picking up a bit, anxiety increasing.

He hadn’t been exposed to many people at all, rarely leaving the house after his father began his lessons at five. He didn’t know what to do in this situation, so he just sat down as directed and looked at his tightly clenched hands in his lap. Footsteps echoed through the silence of the room, clicking along at a slow, comfortable pace, as if the walker knew they had all the time in the world, and no one would protest otherwise.

Shivers ran down his spine, and his breath puffed from his mouth quietly. It must not have been quiet enough, however, as his father stomped his foot a little under the table. Killian stopped breathing entirely, frozen with shudders racing around his skeletal system.

“Good afternoon, my friends. I must say, the weather is quite nice today, no? Anyhow, I will start this meeting with the purpose of its organization: Where is the Graves boy?” A man’s voice hissed from the head of the table, slowly drawing nearer as the person Killian presumed to be the Dark Lord drew nearer. Killian took a quiet, slow inhale, feeling close to passing out.

“Ah, here you are. Hello there, Killian, was it? Come, stand up. I’d like to get a good look at you.” The Dark Lord ordered, and Killian’s father jerked his head as if to say something like ‘if you don’t get over there this instant’. He slowly stood from his seat, sweating, hands shaking. He hoped nobody noticed, especially not his father. He turned to look at the man’s feet, stepping out from behind his chair while staying as far away from the man as possible.

The Dark Lord’s shoes were an impeccably shiny black, robes swishing around them in long folds of seemingly infinite darkness. Killian shivered a bit again. A hand reached towards him and he stiffened his spine, unwilling to flinch away and incur his father’s wrath. The Dark Lord grasped his face and tilted his head towards himself, and Killian was tempted to squeeze his eyes shut. His face was stark white, eyes maroon and frightening, and he was strangely missing his eyebrows and nose.

He had a moment of panicked hilarity at the thought, wondering how and why his nose was no longer there, and Killian knew his shaking was visible now. He avoided looking the Dark Lord in the eyes, looking just past his ears instead, while the… man, he supposed, examined his face. He wasn’t sure what he saw, but it was apparently pleasing enough as he released his hold on Killian’s jaw.

“Hmm, you’ll do, I suppose. Nothing special, though you do seem to have a stronger core, if anything. That could prove useful I suppose.” The Dark Lord murmured, stepping back and directing Killian to retake his seat. He sat down in relief, but resisted the urge to slump down, resuming his straight-backed posture, hands clasped in his lap, eyes down. He risked a quick glance at his father, who was looking towards the Dark Lord as he continued to pace around the table.

His mother shot him a small, reassuring smile around his father’s frame, and Killian felt a little bit better. He zoned out now that the meeting had moved on from his involvement, as he had been directed to do by his father before they had gone. The meeting was either much shorter than usual or he slipped away much longer than it felt like he had once his father jostled him and said they were returning home. Killian went to his mother’s side, seeking the comfort of her touch. She took his hand in hers and held tightly as they bowed and took their leave, whispering a quick goodbye to Narcissa and Lucius while they exited.

Once they got past the gates, they Apparated home, Killian keeping his footing this time. He looked to his mother only to be blindsided by a none-too-gentle hit to his cheek. He stumbled, hand automatically grabbing at the stinging flesh, eyes tearing up as he looked carefully up at his father.

Mr. Graves looked irate, nostrils flaring, face reddening, chest heaving, and hand raised to strike him again. His mother took a step back and Killian felt an irrational flash of almost resentment towards her before he mercilessly crushed it. He knew she couldn’t do anything to stop his father when he got like this, and it was his own fault anyways. At least, he thought so.

Averting his gaze to the ground below seemed to be the wrong move, seeing as his father’s hand made contact with the other side of his face as soon as he did. Killian whimpered a bit, unsure of what to do. He wasn’t satisfied by Killian’s submission, he was obviously angry about something he’d done that night, but he couldn’t think of what.

“You stupid boy, you humiliated me!” Ah, well that answered the question of why. “In front of nearly every Death Eater the Dark Lord has at his disposal no less! What the hell is wrong with you? Do you like to be punished like this? Do you enjoy making me look bad in front of Him?” Each sentence was punctuated with a hit or kick to some part of him, and Killian bit back small groans and whines of pain.

Seething as he stomped back to the house, Killian’s father muttered about what an utter disgrace he was to the Graves name, almost as bad as those Blood Traitors in America. He muffled a groan of pain as his mother crouched by his side, helping him up off of the ground as gently as possible. They slowly made their way inside to Killian’s room, avoiding the clattering from the kitchen. Once there, his mother began apologizing.

“Oh, my poor boy, Killi, I’m so sorry he treats you this way, you know he doesn’t mean it, he loves you! He does, he’s just under a lot of stress right now, you know how he gets. Can you take off your shirt please, Killi? I need to assess the damage.” She murmured frantically, excusing his father without a thought. She was too forgiving in his opinion. Especially when he hit her instead of Killian himself.

Sometimes, when that happened, Killian felt the urge, the desire, to use the curses his father had taught on the man himself, to give him a taste of his own medicine for a change. It was feelings like this that made him think, maybe he was destined to be an evil servant of the Dark Lord. Maybe he was as bad as everyone no doubt saw him as.

He brushed away those thoughts as his mother began healing some of his more minor injuries, like the bruises and cracked ribs. It hurt a bit, feeling the ribs fusing back together correctly, but he’d endured worse and would be forever grateful for the care his mother provided him after his father was particularly brutal. He winced with each pass of her wand over his injured body.

“I’ll bring you dinner later, you should head to your room for now.” She said. Killian nodded, already backing towards the door as he pulled his shirt back over his head with only a little bit of struggle. He was eight after all, he could dress himself. He quietly made his way to his room, which was fortunately the furthest room in the house from his parent’s. Closing the door softly behind himself, he made his way over to the bed and sunk down, exhausted. He wasn’t sure if he could wait up for his mother to make him a sandwich, he was so tired from the stress of meeting the Dark Lord.

Closing his eyes, he sighed with contentment as he sunk deeper into the mattress, resting his head on the pillow. It wasn’t dark outside yet, but Killian thought the stress of his day warranted early rest.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

He doesn’t get a sandwich, that night or the next. Killian’s father is still very angry with him, so he stays out of sight to avoid his wrath. His mother is unable to sneak him anything either, as she is preoccupied keeping his father from destroying their house.

The Dark Lord has begun increasing his activities, going after the Order of the Phoenix, as Dumbledore’s little bunch of Muggle-loving peace advocates call themselves, more vigorously than ever before. Word is that the Potters were going into hiding soon, and the Dark Lord wanted someone to get intel on where they were planning on staying. He had Peter Pettigrew watching them near constantly, ratting out their every move literally and figuratively.

These events in turn lead to his father’s absence, though they also lead to the fact that his mother was no longer around often, both busy with whatever tasks were set upon them. Killian was once again left alone with only Penny and Pinky, not that he minded much. They played games together after the House-Elves were done with their chores, and even baked some cookies. 

Killian had hardly noticed when a month had gone by with only two visits from his father and five from his mother. He was a little sad about the latter, wishing she didn’t have to work so much, but his father’s busy schedule was a blessing.

By the time October was halfway gone, Killian had been home alone nearly two entire months with very few visits from either of his parents. Pinky told him they were both very busy with orders from the Dark Lord, and that he shouldn’t worry. Penny said she’d heard that they would be coming back for a few days soon, if only to keep them from becoming weak. What was the point of having a large group of soldiers if all of them were run ragged before the real fight began, after all?

Killian jumped into his mother’s arms, smile bursting across his cheeks, forgetting his father for a moment. He was set back down gently and glanced to the side, mumbling a sincere “It’s nice to see you, father”, because as much as the man caused him great pain and hurt him physically and mentally, he was Killian’s father and he did love him.

“We don’t have to be anywhere for this whole weekend, the Dark Lord has told us he has the intel and plans to move this Halloween! Can you believe it, Killi? A whole weekend with my favorite little Nundu!” His mother gushed, seeming genuinely happy that she could spend time with him after not seeing him in so long. His father looked a little amused but frowned when he noticed Killian’s gaze.

Brushing off the scoff given by his father, Killian embraced his mother once more, feeling very clingy after not seeing her for nearly two weeks. It had been that long since her last brief visit, and he hated it. It would be a little better if she could at least be there once a week, but Killian knew not to ask.

“You’re gonna turn him into a soft little fool, honey. He needs to toughen up. How will he serve the Dark Lord if he’s sniveling over his mommy not coming to visit?” His father growled. Killian backed away from his mother’s soft hug, looking at the ground in shame. He was tugged back into the house and sat in the living room, on one of the cushy couches right next to his mother. He quietly asked Penny to bring the cookies he and the Elves had made earlier, giving one to his mother to try.

She hummed in approval, stating that they were very tasty indeed and that she’d need another for certain. He giggled and handed her one.

That is how they’d spent that weekend, giggling quietly in shared joy, cuddling and soaking up each other’s presence. When it finally came time for them to return, Killian cried, but only a little and only after his father had left. Pinky and Penny had come up, holding a handkerchief and a plate of cookies respectively, asking if he wanted to maybe go into the garden and watch the Gnomes for a little while. He responded that they could tomorrow and huddled tighter around his little Niffler plushie his mother found somewhere and given to him, telling him to hide it from 

his father but treasure him all the same.

Treasure him Killian did, snuggling him for comfort when his mother wasn’t there, telling him about what he did that day, crying to him about father. The little Niffler was his only friend, helping him through good times and bad. Killian fell asleep dreaming of Gnomes and little Fairies, his mother spinning him around and around and around in the garden, dancing and laughing and happy.

It would be one of the last times he has such a pleasant dream for a while.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Killian was waiting up on Halloween night for mother and father to return, because they should be done with The Big Thing they were talking about last weekend and surely the Dark Lord wouldn’t keep them too long on a holiday. Anxiously sitting on the stairs in front of the door, he waited and waited, jumping in fright when the snappopcrack of Apparation was finally heard. He ran to the door, greeted by his mother firmly wrapping his arms around him. His father shuffled in after, looking very pleased. Killian guessed they’d done a good job with whatever they’d been ordered to do.

“The Dark Lord wanted to take care of the Potters himself and told us to head on back, isn’t he so generous my love?”

“Not in front of Killian! Please, we agreed to that, at least until he’s initiated fully.” His mother insisted while Killian wondered what that all meant. He obviously wasn’t supposed to hear it, so he put it out of his mind, focusing instead on the soft cinnamon and apple scent his mother seemed to always smell of.

Smile splitting his cheeks, Killian looked at his mother and pecked her on the cheek, turning to his father and uttering a small thank you.

His father looked shocked for a second, as if not expecting this, before he turned away and 

gruffly walked to his study, where Killian was pretty sure he stored his Firewhiskey. He was unconcerned, tugging his mother to the gardens so he could show her the little Gnome colony he’d been monitoring the growth of.

Sudden cracks and pops of Apparation startled both of them, calling their attention to the front of the house. Walking inside, they watched as the door was broken down by a blast of magic, Aurors pouring inside with their wands at the ready.

“EXPELLIARMUS!!” The one nearest to them yelled, causing his mother’s hand to go flying from his, both of them hitting opposite walls of the hallway. Killian fell to the floor, whimpering in fright and pain.

“Mother? What’s going on!” He asked fearfully, curling in on himself. His father came bursting out of the study then, wand at the ready and bellowing a hoarse war cry.

“CONFUNDO! EXPELLIARMUS!!” He yelled, blasts of magic leaving his wand as he took aim at another victim.

“Killi, go outside please, run my little Nundu, go hide in the garden and wait for me!” His mother yelled, and Killian startled into action, bolting from the house and studiously ignoring the shouts of spells and curses firing behind him. He ran to the small, lonely shed he knew the birds and pixies liked to nest and play in, squeezing in through a narrow hole he was sure only something smaller than a Hodag could get through.

He began breathing hard, tears escaping his eyes as he curled up and waited for his mother to retrieve him. Slowly, the yelling and banging coming from the house died down, leaving only silence. Killian was afraid, the quiet unsettling. No birds were chirping, no Gnomes were grunting, no Fairies were giggling, and his mother still hadn’t come to get him.

Crashing sounded through the garden, as well as cursing and muttering. Killian’s breathing picked up again, more tears falling at a faster rate.

“Hey, kid! I know you’re out here! C’mon, I want to go home, we already have your mom and dad. I’ll even take you to them!” A stranger’s voice called, trying to sound friendly but not quite making it. Killian did want to his mother though. Maybe he could go with them to wherever these people wanted to take them. It couldn’t be that bad if his mother was going to be there.

The man cursed again and lit up his wand with a low “Lumos”.

Killian peaked out of the hole towards the man, trying to gage how far away he was and how fast he could run back to the house to find his mother. His hand lands wrong on a less stable board and suddenly he’s falling to the ground, the hole in the wall made wider and his hand throbbing. The man turned to the noise, alarmed, but makes a noise of triumph when he spots Killian.

“There you are, you little bugger. Come here, we need to go now.” The man said softly. “If you come with me, I’ll take you to where they took your mummy and daddy. Pinky swear.”

Killian is a little confused, because what is a ‘pinky swear’, but the man looks honest, his face open. He sits up a little, hunching in as the man slowly steps closer. He clutches his hand and hisses, looking at it in the wandlight now illuminating everything. It’s bleeding a bit, but seems shallow so he ignores it, turning his gaze back to the man now crouching a few feet away.

“You’ll really take me to my mummy?” He whispers.

“Yeah, I pinky swore, didn’t I?” He chuckled.

“Can I get my Niffler first? Please? Mother said I needed to take good care of him and he’s probably all alone and scared after all the loud noises and bangs. I need to get him.” He asks, quietly. He hopes he’s allowed to, otherwise he might cry. His mother gave it to him, made him promise to take care of him. He needed him.

“Sure, sure buddy, let’s just get going now, okay? C’mon, I’ll take you to get that hand checked out too, okay?” The man said, glad that the kid is complying, and that he wouldn’t have to Body Bind him or anything. Killian stood slowly, cradling his injured hand a bit, and walked back to the house slowly.

“Mother said to wait for her, are you sure she said this was okay?” Killian suddenly asked, scared that maybe he wasn’t following directions and that his mother would be mad, and father would punish him again.

“Yeah, she told me to get you for her and everything, now come on, we need to get going, buddy. Hey, what’s your name?”

“Killian.” He whispered.

“Killian, that’s a nice name.” They fell silent as they walked into the house. The hallway had scorch marks, floorboards singed, and the smell of smoke burned thick and heavy in the air. Killian just pushed through until they reached his room. He opened the door, darting in to grab Niffler before exiting just as quickly.

“Alright, well, you have your Niffler, now let’s go. Your mom’s probably waiting.” The man said, and Killian still didn’t know his name. He was big, not as imposing as his father, but strong, and he had blond hair and blue eyes.

“What’s your name?” he blurted, covering his mouth quickly with a small apology.

“No worries, Killian. I’m Jake, it’s very nice to meet you.” Jake laughed and walked him to the front of the house. They walked a bit further to the gate and Jake warned him that they were about to Apparate, and then Killian felt the somewhat familiar squeezing, stretching, pulling sensation coupled with a little bit of nausea. He only stumbled a little when they landed, and Killian tried to figure out where they were.

“This is the Ministry of Magic. Your parents are over here, but I’m not sure if you’re allowed to see them yet.” Jake explained, and Killian was a little upset about it. He was supposed to see his mother, not go to some Ministry place his parents hadn’t talked about in front of him.

He clutched Niffler tighter and followed behind the man, noticing the large amount of people milling around in a panic. There were a whole lot of people dressed in more formal robes rushing to a weird cage on a string that moved up and down, all wearing funny hats and shuffling papers around. The bad feeling in his stomach grew worse, head feeling a bit fuzzy.

They approached one of these funny moving cages and Killian hesitated. What if it ate him up and never spat him back out?

Jake seemed to notice his reluctance, looking back and chuckling a little. “These are elevators, they’re like small rooms that take you to different floors, kind of like stairs without the walking. Cool, aren’t they?”

They were definitely not cool, but he didn’t want to hurt Jake’s feelings by saying so. He was very shocked when they began to move down, further and further. The air got a bit chillier as they went, until they settled and stepped off on a floor called ‘Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Level 2, Auror Headquarters and Magical Child Protection Agency’. He didn’t know what some of the words meant, but he could sound them out and felt a brief sense of pride.

“Where’s my mother, Mr. Jake. I wanna see her. I have to.” Killian whispered, tugging his sleeve a little even though whenever he did that to his father he was struck. He didn’t think Jake would hit him, he hadn’t so far even after Killian was caught crying in the shed.

“In a minute, okay, I just need to tell someone you’re okay and fill out some paperwork. I’m going to introduce you to a friend of mine, she’s very nice and her name is Beatrice. You need to stay with her for a little bit, and when I come back, we’ll go see your mom, okay?” Jake explained. Killian felt much worse than before, queasy and dizzy and sick. First, he watched his father fire curses at real live people, then he had to hide in a cold shed for a long time, then he went with some stranger and let him look in his room and went to a weird place with him, and now he was going to meet another new person!? This was too much, and Killian threw up all over the floor as soon as this new ‘Beatrice’ walked up.

“Oh my, honey, are you okay?” She called to him, and he flinched.

“Sorry, sorry, made a mess, sorry.” He mumbled hoarsely, curling up on himself. He could feel his eyes watering, tears beginning to obscure his vision a little.

“Oh no, sweetheart, come here, it’s fine, see? Look, I’ll clean it right up!” she said, casting Scourgify onto the area of floor he dirtied.

“See, good as new! Who’s that you have there?” Beatrice asked softly.

“Niffler.” Killian sniffled

“He’s very handsome, and well taken care of indeed. I can tell he’s very happy to have you to love him.”

“You can?” He looked up a little.

“Yes indeed. What’s your name?”

“Killian.”

“What a pretty name. I love it!”

Killian blushed a little, peaking out at Beatrice over Niffler’s head. She had a wide, comforting, genuine smile on her face, and it made him want a hug. He offered his arms a little, only to snatch them back a moment later.

“You can hug me if you want, Killian. I’ll tell you a secret: I love hugs, especially from handsome young men like yourself.” She giggled. He threw himself into her arms without another moment’s hesitation, burying his face into her shoulder, her arms draping themselves across his back in a warm way.

Beatrice gave hugs almost as good as his mother’s, and he was suddenly very tired. Killian yawned a little, leaning into her more. She began to rock gently back and forth, lulling him to sleep efficiently after such a long, stressful day. He cuddled Niffler closer and settled into her warmth, sighing contently and letting his eyes slip closed. Killian was out like a light in the next few moments.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

 “Killian, sweetheart, can you wake up please?” A woman’s voice asked him. For a moment, he 

panicked because that wasn’t his mother calling him, waking him in the morning for breakfast. He bolted upright, breath quickening as the events of yesterday caught up with him.

“Shhh, hush, Killian it’s alright, can you breathe for me, please? Just follow my breathing, you’re okay. It’s Beatrice, remember? And Niffler is here too, and he’s very worried about you.” The woman spoke calmly, voice soft and kind and guiding. Killian followed her breathing and opened his eyes properly, looking around. Beatrice was kneeling on the floor next to him and he was sitting in a very soft chair that wasn’t here earlier. He clutched Niffler tighter, registering his soft material in his arms.

“Sorry. I got scared.” He whispered out, glancing up at Beatrice’s face. He hoped she wasn’t upset with him. If his father were here, he surely would have been smacked for making such a scene.

His father wasn’t here, and neither was his mother, Killian recalled suddenly. Mr. Jake had promised to take him to see his mother, he’d ‘pinky swore’, though Killian still wasn’t quite sure what that was.

“Can I see my mother now?” He asked quietly, running his fingers through Niffler’s soft fur.

“That’s exactly what I woke you up for. Now, we are going to be going down to the levels where a lot of people are doing very important work, so you mustn’t get in the way of anyone or wander off. Do you know why your parents are here, sweetheart?” Beatrice explained and asked, looking him straight in the eyes.

Killian had been told by father not to tell anyone of their involvement with the Dark Lord many times in the past, and mother had made him promise not to say anything either, so he shook his head, looking down.

“Did father do something bad?” He asked, trying to feign innocence, trying to remember what mother had told him to say in a situation like this.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because this is the Ministry of Magic, and you only go here if you do something bad. Mother doesn’t work here anymore, not for a long time, so the only reason we would all be here is if father had done something bad.”

“Well. I don’t want to lie to you, Killian. Yes, your father did something very bad, and your mother too. That’s why they’re here. That does not mean that you did something bad, though. You are here because now there is nobody home to watch you.”

“That’s not true. Penny and Pinky are there.”

“The House-Elves?” Beatrice suddenly looked a little upset. He wasn’t sure what he had done, but he turned his head further and his voice lowered.

“Yes. Mother and father go away a lot, and for a long time sometimes, so Pinky and Penny watch me, and I stay home.”

“What do you do all alone? Aren’t you lonely, or sad that your mummy and dad aren’t home?”

“N-no. We pl-play games in th-the garden. Sometimes, mother will visit when she gets the ch-ch-chance, and we ba-ake cookies for her.” He stutters, mumbling into Niffler’s fur, wondering what he was saying wrong.

“I see. Well, Killian, that does sound like a lot of fun.” Beatrice sounds very bright again, straightening into a standing position and offering her hand to him. “Come along now, we need to get going. I’ll take you to where your mum and dad are, okay? But you need to hold my hand or my shirt or you’ll get lost.”

Sliding off of the seat, Killian opted to grab on to Beatrice’s shirt rather than her hand. Only mother ever held his hand, father saying it was for sissies and babies. He didn’t want father to see him holding hands with a stranger, he’d be furious. He hated that mother held Killian’s hand at all, saying she was too soft on him, but allowed it because he still loved her, even if he was bitter and mean now.

The walk to the scary elevators was quick, Killian didn’t have any time to take in their surroundings. Rattling down further than before, Killian kept a death grip on both Niffler and Beatrice’s shirt. They exited with a crowd of other witches and wizards, most dressed in matching formal robes, and they walked too fast for him to read what floor they were on.

It was frightening, there was a lot of yelling, angry voices gliding through the air as they passed. He thought Beatrice must have cast a muffling spell because he couldn’t make out what they were yelling, only the volume and tone of voice. Most of the people in their little group ducked into a room down a hallway, and when he looked in there for the seconds it was open, he could make out rows of raised seats, a scary looking chair in the middle of the low floor, a high ceiling with some weird floaty things in it, and a lot of people wearing matching robes.

They moved on, coming to a stop near a quieter part of the floor. There were many Aurors standing by each door here, giving Beatrice nods as she passed. Opening one of the doors, she barked out “Graveses, you have a visitor.”

Killian let go of her shirt as soon as he saw his mother, rushing to her and hugging her tight. He buried his face in her shoulder, sniffling a little.

“Killian, darling, what are you doing here?” She asked, confusion coloring her voice. She drew back a bit, looking him over, noticing the shallow cut on his palm. “Oh, baby! What happened? Did they hurt you?” She said, taking his hand and examining it gently.

“No, it got scraped on some wood in the garden. A man brought me here because you’re here, he said you sent him to come get me.” Killian explained, confused. His father scoffed from the corner, having not stood to approach the happy reunion.

“You stupid boy, did you really buy that rubbish? Of course she didn’t send whoever that was. You really are an idiot, aren’t you?”

Shrinking down, Killian’s eyes filled with tears. He whispered an apology and turned back to his mother.

“It’s okay, sweetie. You were scared, and I didn’t come get you. I’m glad you went with him and aren’t all alone in the garden, who knows how long you would have been left there?” His mother reassured, to the disdain of his father. Turning away from them, he went back to staring off into a corner.

“Oh, you have Niffler! I’m very glad you remembered him, Killi. He was probably quite scared all alone up in your room.” His mother said happily, smiling at Killian proudly.

He smiled back, glad she was okay, and he hadn’t done much wrong, at least in her eyes. He was sure he would be punished by father later, but as long as mother wasn’t angry with him that was alright.

“Come now, Killian. Visiting time is over. We need to go.” Beatrice suddenly stated, reaching out to take his hand. Killian flinched back, clutching his mother tighter.

“I don’t want to, why? Mother is right here; I want to stay with her and father.” He said, tears building behind his eyes again.

“You can't, now come on, we need to leave.” She insisted, moving forward again.

“Go, Killian. You need to go now. It’ll be alright, I promise. You need to listen to this nice witch, okay? I love you, my little Nundu.” His mother urged, untangling his arms from around her and pushing him towards Beatrice. He looked at her, stunned.

She didn’t want him to stay with her. She didn’t want him there. She wanted him to listen to Beatrice, a stranger he had just met. Killian looked at his father, not knowing what he expected from the man.

“Get going, boy. Listen to your mother.” Was the gruff response to his searching eyes. Killian stumbled away, shocked, holding Niffler tight and being tugged along by Beatrice.

They ended up back on Level 2. He didn’t know why they were there, but they went back to the place he had taken the impromptu nap on the cushioned chair. Beatrice led him back to it, encouraging him to sit down.

“If I’m not staying with mother, where will I go? Can I go back home, please? Penny and Pinky are probably worried. I want to go home now, please?” Killian pleaded, confused as tears began trickling down his cheeks.

“It’s going to be okay, Killian. I’m sorry, but you can’t go home. You’re not allowed to be left in a household with no adult humans. It’s against the rules.”

“B-but, what ab-b-bout mother and fath-ther. When can they c-c-c-co-come back? Can’t I s-stay until they g-g-get home?”

“Honey, your mother and father won't be going home for a while.”

“W-wh-wh-why no-not?” He blubbered.

“They did some bad things and broke a lot of very important rules. They also worked for a very bad man, and that is especially not allowed. They have to stay somewhere else for a while because of that.” She explained gently. Killian cried harder.

He couldn’t go home because mother and father wouldn’t be allowed home ever again, and he wasn’t allowed to stay with Penny or Pinky, and he couldn’t stay here with his mother. Where would he go? He voiced the question out loud.

“Well, that’s my job, Killian. I am supposed to find you a new place to stay with a nice family and a nice house. You may even like your new house better than your old one, who knows!” Beatrice encouraged, tone chipper as always. It only made Killian feel worse. His stomach hurt again, and he felt really hot. He couldn’t breathe, chest feeling tight, shivering and crying and scared. He didn’t know what was happening.

“Killian, breathe with me, just like this morning, okay? Breathe, slowly. In, one, two, three, four, now out, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven. Again, in…” Beatrice soothed, Killian trying to match her pace. He slowly calmed, breathing returning, still shivering. He felt exhausted, and his head hurt.

“I don’t want a new house, I like my house, with mother and father and Pinky and Penny, and the garden with the Gnome colonies and pixies, and all the flowers and trees and birds. I want to go home!” He sobbed.

“I know, and I’m sorry honey, but you just can’t right now. It’s against the rules, and it’s very messy too.”

“It’s okay, I help Penny clean up all the time, I know how, I can fix it.”

Beatrice paused, thinking for a moment.

“What else do you help the House-Elves do, Killian?”

“I help Penny wash the floors and the walls and the tables, even the clothes, and I help Pinky make food, and beds, and clean the garden, and light the candles. I help all the time, with everything! Even if mother and father are gone.” He explained, voice quivering a bit, hoping this would help her see he didn’t need an ‘adult human’ to watch him. He was eight years old; he knew how to take care of himself and the house.

“Even when they’re gone, hmm? That’s very mature of you. How long are your mummy and daddy gone, usually? Do you know?”

“Uhm, well, father is gone a lot, for a long time. He almost never comes home, sometimes. Mother visited at least once a month, once a week if she could.”

“Do you know how long they were gone? How long they were out working?”

Killian thought for a moment. The longest they were gone was an entire eight months once when he was seven, and the shortest was around three weeks.

“They were gone a lot, but never the same amount of time.” 

Beatrice hummed, thinking.

“Sorry.” Killian muttered.

“It’s okay. Can you tell me what the longest time they were gone was?”

“I-I-I think the l-longest was, uhm, e-eight months? But mother visited twice a month, so it was okay, and father even came by a few times.” He hastened to say.

“I see. That, Killian, is too long for your mom and dad to be away without leaving you with someone else.” Beatrice said. “Someone else who is an of age witch or wizard.” She added when Killian went to say something. His jaw clicked shut.

“See, this is why you need to go live with someone else for a bit. Only until you can live on your own.”

Killian nodded his head solemnly, looking away in disappointment. She thought he was a little baby, just like father. Maybe he shouldn’t have held her hand or cried. Now he was being sent somewhere else because he wasn’t allowed home or with mother. He squashed down the feeling building in his chest, kept back the tears fighting to join the others drying on his face and in Niffler’s fur. He whispered an apology to him for getting him wet, brushing off the moisture as best as he could.

“Killian are you okay?” a familiar voice rang out, startling him. Mr. Jake walked up to them, looking down and saying hello. Killian whispered back a shy greeting.

“I was just explaining that he had to go live somewhere else for a while because nobody could watch him at home.” Beatrice said, leaning in to whisper something else too softly for Killian to hear. Whatever she said made a hard look flash across Jake’s face, anger burning low behind his eyes. Killian shrank a little, knowing what that gaze meant when it was directed towards him.

“Killian, can I see your hand please?” Beatrice asked as Jake walked away with a quick but sincere goodbye. He held out his injured hand. Most of the dried blood had flaked off, but all the movement reopened part of the cut and fresh, bright red was oozing from it again.

“Why didn’t you tell me before, Killian?” She asked, looking at his face in concern.

“Mother usually heals my cuts and bruises when they’re shallow enough. I thought I was going home, and she would take care of it. She always does.”

“Do you get injured often, Killian? Please be honest with me.” Her voice was stern and determined.

“Sometimes.” Came the whispered reply.

“How often is sometimes?”

“A lot.”

She took out her wand and waved it over his cut, uttering a small healing charm that cleaned the injury and wrapped it, so it could heal.

“Thank you.”

“It’s no problem, sweetheart, honest. Now, I know we talked about quite a lot, and you’re still a bit upset about it, but do you have any questions for me?”

“Where will I go?”

“I still have to figure that out, I’m sorry. I have a few places in mind, and I’m sure you’ll be happy in any of them.”

“When will my mother come back?”

“I’m afraid I don’t know that either. Any more?”

“… What’s a pinky swear?” He asked, embarrassed a little.

Beatrice laughed and explained that a pinky swear was kind of like a promise, and to make one you have to hook your pinky around someone else’s. She demonstrated how as well, and Kilian was happy with this newfound knowledge.

“Now, you must be very tired. You can sleep on this chair if you want, or I can conjure you a sofa in my office instead?”

Killian just put his head down on the arm of the chair he was in, feeling warm if still a little scared. He used Niffler as a cushion, cuddling him close and breathing in the familiar smell. His eyes drifted shut and Killian fell asleep, breathing even and deep.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

A few days later saw Killian staying with Mr. Jake, who was actually Auror Jacob Manning. He had a son, Leon, who was a year older than Killian, and a Crup named Captain Jack. It was a bit confusing at first, between Jake and Jack, but Killian did his best to remember and differentiate. He was only going to stay with the Mannings until Beatrice found him somewhere to stay.

Leon was strange. He was nine years old, turning ten next year in January. He was bigger than Killian and liked Muggle sports. He had blond hair like Jake, but brown eyes instead of blue ones. When he asked Jake why Leon’s eyes were a different color, he explained that his eyes were brown like his mother’s were. He asked where Leon’s mother was, and Jake said she wasn’t around anymore.

He knew that probably meant she was dead, like all those poor Gnomes that “weren’t around anymore”, and he was sad for Leon. At least his mother and father were both alive, even if he couldn’t see them right now.

Leon tried showing him Muggle sports once, explaining all sorts of rules to a game called “football”, but Killian didn’t understand, and Leon grew frustrated. He tried showing Killian his baseball cards, and those were really cool even if the pictures didn’t move. Leon asked if he had any “collectables”, so Killian explained that his father didn’t like Muggles and he had no cool cards, and he didn’t let him keep anything he found that was interesting, not even cool shiny rocks or colorful glass.

Leon grew quiet after that, putting away his cards and sitting down with a book that had something to do with a different sport called “rugby”. Killian took this as a sort of quiet, polite dismissal and left to go sit in his borrowed guest room. He pets Niffler for a while, drawing comfort from his familiar smell and texture in this unfamiliar place.

The rest of his time with the Mannings is spent in much the same way. He would sit alone in his room, quietly petting Niffler or lying in bed looking at the ceiling. Sometimes, he went out into the living room and pet Capt. Jack a little, and the Crup wagged his single remaining tail happily. Killian liked the feeling of the terrier’s fur almost as much as Niffler’s. He ate three whole meals a day and never once got hit, even if he cried a little because he missed mother.

When he asked Jake why he was getting so much food, the man looked at him sadly and stated that he thought Killian needed to eat more, and it would help him grow.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

After about ten days of staying with the Mannings, Jake told him that Beatrice had found a suitable place for him. He was going to stay with two Muggles whose daughter was a witch. Their daughter had already graduated from Hogwarts and moved out, and they were excited to have someone younger in the house again.

Killian was nervous. These were two Muggles. His father hated Muggles, and the Dark Lord had wanted to kill them all, and Muggles were supposed to be evil people who hated magic because they didn’t possess it and were scared and jealous of it. He was nervous to be staying with them.

Upon arriving, he was greeted by two middle-aged people who introduced themselves as Mr. and Mrs. Margery. They seemed very nice, with smile lines and a welcoming attitude. Killian was waiting for them to demand he do housework, or cook for them, or to be silent for once in your damn life boy! They never did. 

What they did do, however, is say they couldn’t do it anymore after he’d stayed for a month.

They said he hadn’t done anything wrong, per say, it’s just that they didn’t expect him to come with quite so many issues, like the nightmares, and the episodes, or the fact that he didn’t like Mr. Margery touching him and wouldn’t hold Mrs. Margery’s hand. Killian felt a hot flush of shame upon overhearing that conversation the Margerys had with Beatrice, sneaking away again to bury his face in Niffler and silence his quiet tears and stifled sobs.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

His next home was not quite as nice. He was sent to live with a witch who had an older son about to graduate from Hogwarts, going into his seventh year this year. She claimed she wanted to help someone in need and felt her heart ache for the poor boy whose parents were both in Azkaban for being such horrific criminals. He was there two days before the first incident.

Killian hadn’t heard the name Azkaban before, nor that his parents were criminals and that’s why they weren’t around, and upon asking what Azkaban was, he was told it’s a wizard prison where they send the worst kinds of people to die a slow, miserable death at the clammy hands of the Dementors that lord over the island it’s located on. He had another episode when this was explained, only to be snapped out of it by a hard smack delivered by his new caretaker, Ms. Howwel.

“There will be none of that nonsense here, boy! Stop your sniveling and get to work!”

He learned very quickly that Ms. Howwel didn’t like any noise, especially not from him. Nor did she like seeing him more than necessary. In fact, she seemed to hate him all around. He was told to do a large list of chores every day, including washing the dishes, cleaning the floors, doing the laundry, tending to the gardens in front and back, keeping the house orderly, and making sure she always had a fresh glass of brandy on hand.

Brandy made Ms. Howwel strange. Depending on how much she drank, she was either more lenient, more aggressive, or asleep. He liked it best when she was asleep, as that meant he could do the chores much quicker and with more efficiency, even in the room she occupied.

The smallest room in the house was where Killian slept. It was more of a large storage closet on the second floor, but he had a mattress, pillow, and blanket. He was also allowed to keep Niffler. He didn’t know what he would do if he was forced to give up his only friend and last gift from his mother. Probably cry, or maybe explode. Either way, it would be very bad, and Killian would be devastated.

Schooling was another issue. Killian had never gone to a proper school. He’d been homeschooled by his mother (when she was there), taught various curses, jinxes, and harmful spells by his father (whenever he found time), and otherwise educated by two House-Elves who were getting a bit on in years. Ms. Howwel was very upset that she’d have to either teach him or pay for schooling and yelled at him for a solid hour for being such a stupid, inconsiderate brat. In the end she purchased him some workbooks and let him use the computer three times a week for two hours, but only if he finished his chores.

His education progressed slowly, but he did make progress. He learned a lot of math things, which was all he should really care about he was told. It would have been interesting to learn about how Muggle things worked, but Killian feared what his father might do to him if he ever found out about that knowledge. He stuck to learning math, like fractions and decimals, and division and multiplication. He learned some science too, just because he had some extra time at the end of one math lesson and saw something about how frogs didn’t look like tiny frogs when they were babies like most things did. They looked like special little frog babies called tadpoles, or polliwogs, and turned into small frogs when they grew bigger.

Maybe that’s what he was doing. He was strange now, but when he got bigger, he’d turn into a real person and people would like him and accept him as one of their own because he’d finally be the same. He’d finally understand things that he didn’t now, like why his father didn’t like him very much, or why Ms. Howwel liked brandy as much as she did.

This went on for nearly eight months before Beatrice realized Killian was being abused, and he was taken away and moved again. His file was marked with a little flag from then on, indicating that he had issues and had been removed from more than one placement before.

Nobody wanted him after that. Killian wondered what was wrong with him and wished he wasn’t there anymore. He wished he was back in the garden with the Gnome colonies, or with Penny and Pinky making cookies for mother if she returned.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

He ended up in a group home, with a lot of other boys and even some girls. They were all Muggles, and Killian had to swear not to tell anyone about magic at all, that he’d be in big trouble if he did. That was more than enough to dissuade him, and he was mostly silent while there, afraid to say much of anything for fear that one word from his mouth would set everyone against him.

The other boys thought he was weird and picked on him, often trying to take Niffler from him, wondering why he had such a weird plush toy. They said it looked like a funny platypus, and Killian didn’t reply because he didn’t know what that sort of creature was. He just curled around Niffler and told him he was perfect and not funny looking, let the boys kick him until they grew bored instead of tearing his only treasured thing in the world to little bitty pieces.

Killian did not like the caretakers very much. There were two main matrons that everyone had to listen to, even the other people in charge, and then there were four extra people who did all the busywork of watching the children and making sure they weren’t hurting each other too much.

Chores were once again a responsibility of his, and he had to clean the boy’s bathroom and the kitchen, as well as help the girls with laundry once the caretakers found out he knew how to do so. The girls were a little nicer to him than the boys were, and Killian was grateful. The older ones thought he was cute and liked that he was quiet and did what he was told. Girls his age didn’t mind him because they were busy talking amongst themselves about a doll one had found and whose turn it was to brush its hair. The younger ones were strange, giggly and wanting attention and also wanting to help with everything, while not wanting to do anything at all but sit around and look at pretty clothes.

He found himself enjoying the girl’s company more and more, even as the boys grew to like him less and less. Their attempts to damage his belongings were growing bolder, and they held back less when they were hitting or kicking him. Killian was used to bruises painted down his sides and arms, the occasional black eye, the ache of old hurts when he moved too fast before being fully healed. He often wished he could use his magic, if just to protect himself or make himself invisible for a change. Maybe even use it to help do the cleaning faster.

For two years, Killian bonded with the girls of the group home, watching them come and go as they were adopted, aged out, or brought in, as well as avoided the boys more and more, eventually opting to sleep in another closet as opposed to the shared boy’s dorm. It was August of 1894, almost three years since he was first removed from his home and his parents were sent to Azkaban. He was eleven years old and nervous. He was supposed to go to Hogwarts this year, in September, to return to the home only during the summer each year after that until he graduated seventh year.

He wasn’t sure what lie had been spun about the reasoning behind his absence, but if he were perfectly honest, he was very glad to be going. Killian felt a little guilty to be more or less abandoning the girls to the dismal life of the group home, but he was too relieved to finally be free of the boys and the uncomfortable looks of one of the caretakers.

August passed in a whirl of laundry and floor cleaner, and soon Killian received his Hogwarts letter. It was delivered to him by Jake Manning, the Auror who had first taken him from his home those years ago.

“Killian! Do you remember me? It’s been a while, huh? Well, I’m the one they sent with your letter, and here it is. This is a list of supplies you’ll be needing for your first year at Hogwarts. First stop will be Gringotts, of course, because you need money to buy all of that stuff, and especially your wand. I’ve been told to tell you that you’ll be staying with Leon and I again until your first year begins and you board the Hogwarts Express. Oh, and also that we must go at once, so hurry along and pack your things!” Jake talked rapidly, bustling him along and explaining as they went. Killian was a little overwhelmed by all the information and hastened to follow directions, putting all salvageable items into the small suitcase he had.

Most of his belongings had either been destroyed in the subsequent two years of residence or were now too small for him, and there wasn’t much to put in the case. Niffler, of course, along with five shirts, all fraying long sleeves, seven pairs of pants, most going thin around the knees and torn at the ends, a few underclothes and some workbooks he still had from Ms. Howwel. He had also found a book in the trash outside once. It was called Oliver Twist, and even though it was missing a few pages and the cover was torn in half, it was his second most treasured belonging. He packed them all carefully, zipping the case and standing by Jake’s side.

Once they made it outside, the two walked to a nearby alley and Apparated away. Killian still disliked Apparation but could land well enough and barely got queasy anymore. They landed near a place with a sign that read The Leaky Cauldron, and once Jake began walking towards it Killian realized that was where they were going. Upon entering, every patron’s eyes alighted upon them, some in suspicion, some in welcome, and others in an unknown manner. Killian was glad he didn’t resemble his father or mother very much, suddenly certain that if these people knew who he was, a few would have no reservations about harming him in some way, if only to enact their own twisted version of revenge.

He shivered at the number of gazes on him, ducking behind Jake a little, trying to make himself smaller, less of a target. He had become quite good at it, though it rarely did him much good as he was the aggressors only target at that time. The two made their way through the throng of people slowly but surely, and it seemed like nearly everyone stopped to shake Jake’s hand or congratulate him in some way.

They finally made it out of there and around the back where they stopped near the end of the alley, a seemingly ordinary brick wall blocking further progress. Killian watched attentively as Jake took out his wand and tapped a specific brick in the wall, and he filed away which brick for later use. The bricks suddenly seemed to melt away, opening to a very crowded, busy market-like street absolutely packed with people of all ages and sizes.

His eyes widened, amazed at the sheer volume the street seemed to have. There were shops of all sorts, selling a wide range of items from books to ingredients, to strange animals and home remedies, and a quaint little store named Ollivander’s.

There was no mistaking it.

This was Diagon Alley.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Jake tugged Killian along by his frayed sleeve, Killian still too uncomfortable to hold anyone’s hand, let alone a male person’s. They wove through the crowd, fortunately they were too busy to notice Jake or greet and congratulate him, and made their way to a large, bone white building at the very end of the long street. ‘This must be Gringotts,’ Killian thought. It was a very impressive building; much nicer than any Muggle banks he’s seen while out on excursions before. They walked past large white pillars and statues, plaques with warnings written in rhymes, and into the lobby.

The lobby was almost more impressive than the outside. There were many… creatures, he supposed, manning various desks around the main lobby, counting coins or looking at extravagant crystals through large magnifying glasses. Jake leaned over and whispered, “Isn’t it incredible? I was amazed when I came here for the first time. Can you believe it’s entirely Goblin run?”

So that’s what the strange non-humans were. Goblins. They had long, curling fingers, and Killian didn’t care for their leery faces and condescending eyes. They didn’t seem very friendly, almost like larger, more angry and human-like Gnomes. He almost felt guilty at the thought. He knew nothing about these Goblins and yet here he was comparing them to dull, ugly little garden Gnomes? He ought not to do such things, as it would only prove himself to be like his father.

A goblin waved the two over to one of the shorter desks, asking for a name and key.

“Killian Graves, and his key should be here waiting for him.” Jake said quietly, as if he was afraid someone would overhear them. The Goblin raised his thin eyebrow.

“Hmm… Ah, yes, Mr. Graves. This way, if you please.” The Goblin got down and began walking towards an elevator, not checking to see if they were following. Killian was none too excited about the elevator; he still didn’t like them very much since his first ride at the Ministry. He boarded anyway, standing next to Jake and away from the Goblin, staying a little behind the Auror. The Goblin intimidated him a little, even though he was nearly a foot shorter than Killian and hadn’t done anything to warrant caution yet.

The elevator jarred to a stop, shaking a bit as they hastily exited. Killian looked around and noticed they seemed to be deep underground, vaults lining the walls every few meters, stairs connecting a few levels. It was a little chilly, and he thought the only reason they weren’t freezing was most likely Warming Charms put up by some considerate witches or wizards. Making their way to one of the large vault doors, the Goblin tapped the door. A keyhole appeared a few inches to the left of his hovering hand, and he inserted the key, turning it.

Rumbling sounded through the air, and Killian hoped whoever had constructed these vaults had the forethought to cast a few Muffling Charms so the whole structure didn’t collapse. The door creaked open slowly, unleashing more terrible noises as the old hinges protested the movement. The Goblin took a lamp from its hook nearby and walked in.

“Here is your vault, Mr. Graves. All of your belongings left to you by your parents as well as anything amassed before are here, along with all the money belonging to your family name, the deed to your old family estate, and some heirlooms designated for here as opposed to the Black’s vault or the Malfoy’s.”

“Thank you, sir.” Killian intoned, voice low but grateful. He looked around, recognizing some of the various things stored here. The old grandfather clock his mother adored that used to stand in the living room. The various paintings she’d bought or done herself. He was overcome by a wave of nostalgia for a moment before fighting it back. What was he doing, Merlin’s beard, he was only eleven years old! He was sure that was too young to be thinking so hard on things like this. Maybe that’s why the other boys didn’t like him, they sensed something weird about him.

He gathered money into a pouch left near the stacks of glittering gold, silver, and bronze seemingly for the exact reason of storing money. The pouch had an Undetectable Extension Charm on it and everything. It would come in quite handy. After he’d gathered what he thought was a suitable amount of money for now, he walked back to Jake’s side, whispering that he had what he wanted to take.

“Alright then, bud. Let’s go to Ollivander’s next then, so you can finally get your wand!” He replied cheerfully. They returned to the dreaded elevator and made their way out of the vaults, the Goblin taking the key for safekeeping until he was of age once more.

They exited the bank entirely and walked down the street, coming to a stop near a shop resembling an ice cream parlor. Ollivander’s was just next door to it, and Killian felt his stomach flutter in anticipation and nervousness. A bell rang when they stepped inside.

A strange man with a haggard face rolled to the front of the shop on a ladder. He had white hair, quite a lot of it, and many deep smile lines. He seemed like a friendly, intelligent sort and Killian liked him near instantly.

“Hello there, who might you be? Here for your first wand, I presume?” Her asked.

“Killian Graves, and yes. How do I pick a wand?” Killian asked quietly. Mr. Ollivander laughed, looking at him fondly as if he was asked that question a lot.

“The wand chooses the wizard, dear boy. Unless you happen to be in America, those fools don’t know how to do these kinds of things properly.” The old man explained gently, grumbling at the end. He descended the ladder, beckoning him towards the desk as he moved further into the rows of bookshelves Killian realized were filled with boxes upon boxes of wands. He was amazed at the sheer number of them and had a brief flash of fear that none would choose him, and he’d be sent back to the group home with an apology and an explanation that it must have been a fluke, he wasn’t a wizard. The feeling faded as Ollivander returned with a wand.

“This is a Holly wand, unicorn hair, eleven inches, rigid.” He handed Killian the wand.

Killian didn’t feel right, like the wand was telling him this was all wrong, they weren’t matched. Ollivander must have sensed the discomfort of both parties, snatching the wand back quickly and replacing it with another.

“Oak, unicorn hair, ten and a half inches, firm but not stiff.”

This wand didn’t feel right either and expressed his displeasure with a shower of angry red sparks. Ollivander quickly took it from his hands and went back to look for another.

This went on for quite some time, each wand handed to him felt off and either expressed their displeasure at being in the wrong hands loudly or didn’t have to before Ollivander sensed something was wrong. Killian began to lose hope a little, doubts creeping back in slowly despite his efforts to contain them.

Finally, Ollivander returned with a shorter wand, lighter in some places than the others he’d tried too.

“Beech wood and phoenix feather, a powerful combination. Ten inches, very springy and flexible. This will be a powerful and beautiful wand in the right hands.”

Killian reached to grab the wand and time seemed to slow. A rushing warmth flooded through him, filling him with hope and glee, elation singing in his veins. This was his wand, this was his perfect match, this was his partner for many years to come. He couldn’t help the jubilant smile that stretched across his face as he cradled his new partner close. “Thank you, sir.” He breathed, still a little shocked at how right this felt. Ollivander’s eyes sparkled in delight.

“That wand has been waiting for you for nearly fifteen years already. Phoenix feather cores are very choosy, and with beech as the wood it was even more difficult to place. I’m certain you will do great things, Killian Graves. Now, that’ll be eight galleons and seven sickles, please.” The old man said with a smile.

“Come along then, Killian. Is that beech wood? Oh my, that’s a beautiful wand indeed. You should be quite proud; I hear they only choose witches or wizards of exceptional talents and merits. Make sure to treat them well, and they will treat you well in return.” Jake spoke, admiring the quality of Killian’s new wand.

“What would you rather do now? I already got you your supplies and ingredients while you were getting your wand, but we still need to get your books and robes. We can also visit the Emporium if you want to, and you can pick out an owl or some sort of pet.” Jake asked. Killian was grateful he didn’t need to visit the Apothecary, all of those salamander eyes he’d seen in the barrels outside put him off.

“Can we go get my robes first, then books, and then go to the Emporium?” He asked quietly, ready to concede if Jake decided it was a waste of time and he didn’t need a pet, least of all deserve one.

“Sure, why not. Madam Malkin’s is right over there next to Flourish and Blott’s. We’ll see what books you need for your first year, and you can even pick out extras if they catch your eye.”

Making their way over to the robe shop, a small bell tinkled as they entered. A feminine voice called out from the back, “I’ll be right with you!”

A middle-aged witch emerged from further in the shop, clutching a tape measure, box of pins, and many fabric scraps. “How can I help you two today? School robes, I presume? Are you going to Hogwarts?”

“Yes, Hogwarts it is, Killian just needs some measurements done for his new robes, and maybe a set of winter things as well?” Jake explained. The measuring tape was creeping closer and closer to Killian as the adults spoke, as if it had a mind of its own.

“Alrighty then, step on up over here, sir. This’ll only be a second, and I’ll have your robes done in a jiff.”

Killian stood on a platform and was immediately ensnared by the wayward tape measure, which measured seemingly every inch of him, from the length of his forearms to the height of his ears. It was a little strange and, though he’d probably never admit it, it tickled. This was over in about five minutes, and the kindly witch immediately bustled away to make his robes.

“I think they’ll be done in around thirty minutes to an hour. If you want, we can head over to Flourish and Blott’s while we wait.” Jake said, clapping his hands together softly.

Killian nodded to the latter, excited to go see the various kinds of books such a large shop solely dedicated to them must have. They made their way to the bookstore, and Killian was amazed at the number of books there were stuffing the multitude of large shelves and spilling onto the floor in semi-neat piles stacking nearly as high as the shelves themselves.

“Why don’t you just go look around and I’ll gather your needed books, okay?”

“Thank you.” He whispered in reply to Jake, immediately making his way over to a stack of books that seemed to be about magical creatures. He’d always wanted a book like those, but there were none in their house as his father seemed to hate them on principal and his mother couldn’t go against him. He picked up a copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, with a picture and a small word from Newt Scamander on the back. He’d always admired the man when he bothered his mother into telling him stories of Scamander’s adventures. He was fascinated instantly. He grabbed a copy of the book and moved on to the next pile.

A number of various magical history books seemed to dominate this mountain of books, with titles such as Hogwarts: A History, Quidditch Through the Ages, Greatest Wizarding Accomplishments of the Twentieth Century, Muggles: What Are They Doing?, Owls: Perhaps the Greatest Partnership Since Goblins, and many others. He picked up Hogwarts: A History, as well as the book on Quidditch as he had no idea how to play and it seemed important. (It also had a lot of cool moving pictures, which was a plus.)

Moving from stack to stack, Killian collected various books that caught his fancy, stacking them and tugging them along. Once he had gathered six books, he figured he should slow down and settle for these. He could always come back later, he was sure. He walked to the front of the store where Jake was waiting with even more books. He felt a little nervous concerning the transportation of this many fairly heavy books. He only had the tiny suitcase he realized Jake had been holding onto for him. As if reading his frantic thoughts, Jake looked over at him and said, “Don’t worry about where you’re gonna put them all, I’ve already bought you a trunk for all your stuff.”

Killian was relieved and walked up to the counter to pay for the books with more confidence knowing they had somewhere safe to be stored. After paying, they headed out and Jake stowed his new books in the trunk he hadn’t noticed while he was still so elated with the purchase of his wand. They ambled over to the Emporium at a relaxed pace, all necessary shopping done.

Upon entering the establishment, they were hit by a wave of sounds; hoots and caws of various avian creatures, barks and yelps from canines, meowing from a few felines, and the occasional croak or two. Killian was mesmerized. There were so many different animals, many of which he’d never seen before. There were Crup puppies, toads of all different sizes and colors, cats of many coats, a few Kneazles, and of course many owls.

Killian had always wanted a feline personally but looked to the owls as they seemed like they would be the most useful and easiest to care for. He wished he could get a cat, or maybe even one of the Kneazle kittens, but it seemed unlikely, especially considering he was only an eleven-year-old first year. He browsed through the various species of owl available, including eagle-owls, barn owls, great horned owls, snowy owls, and small burrowing owls, searching for someone that caught his eye and heart. A tugging sensation was felt at his ankles.

Looking down, Killian met the brilliant ice blue eyes of one of the feline occupants as they attempted to climb up his pant leg. The kitten was silvery with long fur, large ears, and a feathery tail. He knelt down and said hello, scratching the kitten under their chin.

“Jake, can I have this one?” He asked lowly, not taking his eyes off of the little kitten he was petting.

“Oh wow, look at that, you’re getting all sorts of attention today, first with your wand and now a Kneazle kitten? I’m not sure though, you do need a permit. We can ask!” Jake answered earnestly.

He managed to make it to the front counter without dislodging the Kneazle still clinging to his pants. “Excuse me, but am I allowed to adopt this Kneazle? It’s just that… well, they seem to like me, and I’ve always wanted one. I have the money, and I’m willing to get a permit if you have any or tell me where to get one.” He mumbled to the person behind the counter, likely the owner or a family member. Most of the shops around Diagon Alley seemed to be family owned and operated.

“I see Sylvester has taken quite the liking to you. Strange, he usually claws anyone who looks at him funny. I can draw up the paperwork here, but only because he’s a Kneazle and they choose their owners rather than the other way around. Now, he’s also going to be much more expensive as he’s a purebred Kneazle. Both he, the supplies, and the permit amount to about fifty galleons. If you’re still willing, I can head to the back and grab everything you need as well as the permit.” The man explained. Killian felt his heart leap. He was chosen by such a magnificent creature, him out of all the people who wandered in and out of this shop day after day? Sylvester meowed at him, staring into his eyes and seeming to demand Killian hold him.

Picking up the Kneazle, Killian turned to Jake with a wide grin. Jake smiled back, seeming almost as excited as Killian himself was. “I can’t believe I get to keep him! He’s so beautiful! Oh, but what’re we gonna do about Captain Jack?” Killian worried, suddenly concerned.

“It’ll be okay, Killian. Jack’s staying in the yard right now anyways, because whenever Leon packs for Hogwarts, the naughty Crup likes stealing his things and snatching his wand. I’m sure Sylvester will be fine inside with you, and it’s only for two days.” Jake reassured.

Feeling better with that knowledge, Killian turned to where the man he’d talked to before was making his way out of the back room with a pile of items including a brush, a small toy mouse, a scratching post, and what seemed to be a small cushion. He was also holding a piece of paper in his hand that Killian assumed to be the permit.

“Here you go, sir. Sign this permit using this here quill and you’ll be good to go. I’m so glad Sylvester found someone he likes; we were worried he’d be here his whole life. Most of his siblings are gone already, and he’d always been so aggressive and stand-offish. Anyways, I hope you treat him well, and that he treats you well. Kneazles are very loyal, loving companions if you treat them with care and respect, even young fellows like him.”

Killian handed over the galleons after signing the permit and getting a copy for himself. He tried setting Sylvester on the trunk and the ground, but the kitten refused to move. Finally, Sylvester crawled up his arm and settled on his shoulder, perched there like a protective gargoyle. Killian already felt so much calmer than he had nearly all day, or at any point in time if he thought about it. Sylvester was such a handsome cat, and Killian was sure he’d only become more so once fully grown.

They exited the shop in high spirits, stopping by the robe shop to pick up Killian’s clothing.

“Well, I think it’s time we head to my house, huh Killian. We have all of your supplies. Now all that’s left is to wait a few days and you’ll be on your way to Hogwarts!” Jake said jovially. They made their way back to the Leaky Cauldron, exiting Diagon Alley to Killian’s disappointment. He’d hoped to explore just a bit more, but he supposed he had Sylvester to think about now.

Jake led him through the tavern quickly, avoiding most of the people that’d held them up before. They made it outside and immediately veered right. Jake led him down a similar alleyway that Diagon Alley had been accessible from, and Apparated them away. Killian held Sylvester a little tighter, but the Kneazle didn’t seem to mind magical transportation too much, only flicking his ears in irritation at not being warned beforehand.

Killian stepped into the Manning’s home for the second time in almost two entire years, surprised at how unchanged it looked. He could hear Capt. Jack’s frantic yelping from the garden out back and could smell the light aroma of jasmine that always seemed to hang in the air.

Removing his jacket, Jake said, “You can stay in the same guest room you had last time if you want. Feel free to look over your textbooks and anything else you bought today.”

Taking his new trunk upstairs to the guest room, Killian dragged it to the end of the bed and propped open the lid. Inside, his supplies were organized neatly, clothes on one side, books in the middle stacked almost like dividers, and his potions supplies on the other. His old suitcase was also somehow stuffed into the trunk without impacting the rest of the objects, and he removed it and set it on the ground beside the trunk.

Sylvester decided he was bored with the events happening and instead jumped from his shoulder to lay on a pillow at the head of the bed. The kitten curled himself up comfortably, watching Killian’s actions with curious blue eyes.

His old suitcase was well worn at the edges, zipper catching on the corners, and a leg was missing. He flipped it open and looked at the contents with a semi-critical eye. He now had new clothes and a large trunk that could comfortably fit all of his belongings in it and lock, so he needed to decide what in this suitcase he wanted to keep, and what he wanted to repurpose. He placed the worn copy of Oliver Twist with the other books reverently and put Niffler on top of his clothes like a little nest. Next, he went through his meagre clothing and decided whether they could be mended or were a bit past saving at this point. He kept three out of five shirts, and five pairs of pants. The old workbooks he threw away along with the unsalvageable clothing. He wondered what he was going to do about the case itself, but for now Killian tucked it under the bed.

Closing the trunk and latching it, he decided to try and sleep some. He made his way to the head of the bed and took the pillow next to Sylvester, who hadn’t taken his eyes off him the entire time he’d been sorting. The Kneazle began purring quietly, tail flicking contently. Killian closed his eyes and let the gentle, constant droning lull him to restful sleep.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The next day passed in a blur, Killian spending most of his time looking over his new books and bonding with Sylvester, often simultaneously. He realized he’d forgotten dinner the previous night as well as breakfast and lunch that morning but thought nothing of it. It was not uncommon for him to miss meals, and at this point his stomach didn’t complain anymore. He made sure to eat dinner if only to not pass out due to low blood sugar or malnutrition.

Sylvester, on the other hand, made it very clear when he was hungry, and that happened to be all the time. Killian had no idea where he put away all that food in his little body, but had his suspicions regarding his thick, fluffy tail and rather large ears.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

On September 1st, Killian went to King’s Cross Station with Jake and Leon to board the Hogwarts Express. He was a bit confused about “Platform 9¾” but Leon was happy to show him. He felt very strange running headlong into a brick divider with a Kneazle perched on his shoulder and a large trunk placed precariously on a trolley but sprinted nonetheless. Bursting through to the other side, Killian waited for Jake before continuing on toward the train.

“What do I do with my trunk?” He asked, unsure if he would be able to drag it to a compartment before his arms just fell off.

“You can leave it over there with the rest of the luggage going in the storage compartment, or I can cast a Feather-Light Charm and you can bring it to your compartment.” Jake explained, already producing his wand from his pockets.

“Please cast the Charm, if you don’t mind.” He replied. Killian was still uncomfortable with anyone handling his things, so he’d rather have them with him at all times, especially now that his entire life was contained within the trunk’s confines. Jake cast the spell and looked over to where Leon had already met up with a group of friends, seemingly all Gryffindors, before sighing and looking back to Killian. He offered his hand out to him, aware that Killian was not comfortable with many shows of affection or touch in general. Killian took his hand and thanked him sincerely, picking up the trunk and carrying it to one of the less crowded doors near the back of the train.

He looked back once on the steps and called out, “Bye!” before boarding the train in full. It seemed that most students preferred the front of the train and the first few cars as opposed to these last few, which meant that Killian had plenty of compartments to choose from. He was jostled a bit by some older third- or fourth-year boys as they ran down the hallway and decided to duck into the closest empty room.

Lifting his trunk into the overhead storage space, Killian set Sylvester, who had stubbornly stayed wrapped around his neck the entire time, onto the seat next to his and pulled out Oliver Twist, Jake having told him he should read a book if he wasn’t going to join a group of people as the ride to Hogwarts can seem quite long to someone who is alone.

Working his way through the book from the beginning for the hundredth time, Killian barely noticed as the scenery outside the window changed from dark, dirt-like tunnel wall to lush green grass and rolling hills. A plump witch came along at what Killian assumed to be about halfway through the journey with a cart full of sweets and food, and copies of what looked like a wizard newspaper called The Daily Prophet. He ordered two boxes of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Beans and a Pumpkin Pasty, paying the nice witch a few sickles before turning to Sylvester to ask if the Kneazle wanted anything.

Eating the Pumpkin Pasty rather quickly, giving Sylvester a small bite, Killian turned his attention back to the book, leaving the jellybeans on the seat next to him. He managed to make it about halfway through before being interrupted again. Sylvester was sitting up at attention, fur raising a bit, ears forward. A low-level growl of some sort rumbled from his smallish body, fur bristling by this point.

“Sylvester, what’s gotten into you? What’s wrong?” Killian asked, worried. The door to the compartment opened with a slam as he was reaching out to sooth the irritated Kneazle, causing him to nearly jump out of his skin. Looking up, he saw a girl standing in the hallway, two other students behind her. Killian kept his eyes on them, wary and unsure why they’d decide to burst into his compartment when there were other empty ones, namely the one directly across from his.

“H-hello?” Killian said hesitantly. “Who are you?”

The girl smirked a little, causing Sylvester to hiss. She arched a perfectly penciled eyebrow at him as if she were inspecting a piece of dirt on her immaculate shoes.

“Who I am is unimportant as of now. You, however, are very important. After all, it’s not often you meet a Death Eater outside of Azkaban, is it?” The girl sneered, looking down her nose at him. Her two goons giggled a bit behind her. Killian flinched, not having thought about whether anyone would know or care about his parent’s status as servants of the Dark Lord. Foolish of him not to.

“I-I’m sorry, but I’m afraid I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He decided playing the fool would most likely yield the best results in this circumstance.

“Oh, don’t play stupid with me, firstie. Killian Graves, famous only son of two right-hands of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, who’re now rotting away in Azkaban forever as punishment for their heinous crimes against wizard- and Muggle-kind alike. Rumor has it you were all set to serve him too, before the Ministry busted everyone when the Potter kid vanquished You-Know-Who. Did you meet him? Have you killed any Muggles yet? What’s it like, serving someone so evil?” The girl interrogated aggressively, invoking another loud hiss from Sylvester, whose tail lashed in anger. Killian began shrinking back at the accusations, tearing up a little.

One of the minions shot forward suddenly, snatching Oliver Twist from Killian’s slack hands.

“What’s this? Reading Muggle garbage? Wouldn’t that get you cursed in the Death Eater ranks?” More jeering taunts sounded from the three as they passed around the worn book. One of them opened it and flipped through a little, looking at small marks Killian had made in the book, underlining parts he liked or writing things in the margins.

“NO, p-please don’t, please g-gi-give that back, it’s very i-imp-portant to me, please, please p-please please give me back my b-b-bo-ok!” Killian begged, his stutter very pronounced. He reached for it only to snatch his hands back when one of the goons went for their wand.

“Hmmm… No. I think I’ll keep this for a while, maybe I can start a nice fire with it, practice Incendio a little? Whadda ya think? Do ya think I’d get a good blaze goin’?” Goon #2 asked, shaking Killian’s beloved book by its fragile pages. A tearing sound could suddenly be heard as the book fell to the floor of the compartment, Goon #2 holding a single page in his clenched hand. Killian let out a wounded sound, dropping to the ground. He went to pick it up but the girl he still didn’t know the name of grabbed it first, holding it high with an evil smarmy grin stretched across her face.

Killian reached up towards her, still kneeling on the ground, in tears and begging for his book back. Sylvester raised himself to his feet, back arched, hissing continuously, fur bristling and tail lashing with aggression.

Goon #1 leveled a wary look at the Kneazle, drawing their wand and pointing it at him with a glare. Sylvester yowled, swiping a paw at the group, claws extended. Killian was panicking outright now, this altercation reminding him too much of the boys at the group home and the beatings he’s had to endure over the years.

“How about this, Killian.” The girl spit. “We either rip apart your stupid book here, or we take the kitty and toss him overboard, if you know what I mean.” She said maliciously. Killian began sobbing in earnest, hands shaking and feeling too hot all over.

“P-pl-ple-please don’t, p-please? Please don’t hurt S-sy-syl-ves-s-ster, ple-ase, just le-leave me al-lo-lone, I haven’t d-d-done anything-ng!” He cried hysterically.

“C’mon, Killi, the book or the cat, you decide.”

Killian threw himself over Sylvester, covering his face even as he scrunched himself up around the Kneazle protectively. The sound of tearing paper echoed through the compartment, as well as cruel laughter and Killian’s soft sobs.

“That’s what you get, you little freak. We won’t be so nice next time.” The unknown girl called out as their little group walked away, shutting the door on the way out. Killian sank to the floor, convulsing with sobs, trying to muffle his cries by biting his fist as he tried to calm himself. Sylvester meowed quietly, comfortingly, licking his hand a little where it still covered his face.

He looked around his compartment, hands shaking a bit harder at the mess. His book lay discarded on the floor, surrounded by pages torn from their binding. He began gathering them up, painstakingly putting them into some semblance of order. He wished with fervency that his father had taught him more practical magic, or at least something simple like Reparo or a sticking charm. He settled for putting them back in place loosely for now, sniffling and wiping his nose every once in a while, as he worked. Sylvester tried to comfort him throughout the process, rubbing his hands with his small fuzzy head and giving him encouraging meows and licks.

Remembering the enormous library he’d read about in Hogwarts: A History, Killian resolved to visit it as soon as possible, sure they’d have something that could repair books. He carefully placed the cobbled together book in his trunk, where it would hopefully be safe and stay mostly together until he could get it to the library. He’d try to go after the sorting.

He cuddled Sylvester, who had climbed into his lap and promptly began purring comfortingly, and Killian lost himself in the rhythmic stroking of the Kneazle’s soft fur. He didn’t notice how long had passed since the incident and subsequent murder of his book, but before he knew it, Sylvester was meowing at him, pawing his chest a bit to wake him from the trance-like state he’d entered. Luckily, he’d changed into his school robes before he’d been accosted earlier.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Exiting the train was another ordeal entirely, everyone rushing about like snidgets with their heads cut off. It was rather stressful battling the tide of people while hauling a trunk and trying to keep Sylvester from being jostled. Before too long, he found himself waiting among similarly aged peers, his trunk having been taken by a disgruntled house elf, each looking around for something to guide them in the right direction. Suddenly, a humongous man waded through the crowd, calling out “firs’ years, this way! Follow me, firsties!” Killian thought he must be part giant to be that large and imposing, or else he was cursed with some sort of growth charm as a child. He shared a look with Sylvester but followed along behind the man regardless.

They were led to a fleet of small boats, seeming to fit about four students per vessel, aside from the lead boat which fit one giant man and one firstie. Killian looked around in dismay as everyone broke into small groups, all having become acquainted with one another on the train. He was the only one left standing on the shore as everyone else loaded into the boats, and he flushed in embarrassment as all eyes turned to his lone form. Sylvester pinned back his ears at the many eyes upon them, seeming to be just as uncomfortable with the attention as Killian himself.

The giant man looked back at the hold up, eyes alighting on Killian standing at the edge of the water, Kneazle around his shoulders, face flushed. He took pity on the boy and gestured him over to a boat with only two students aboard. He hurried over, taking a seat on the rickety bench.

He reached up to pet Sylvester, taking comfort in the warm body of his little friend. The other two first years looked amazed at  the cat-like creature perched upon his shoulders. Killian’s blush deepened under their now direct gazes. Sylvester crawled onto his lap as they rowed along, no longer content with his high perch as it now swayed with the movements of the small boat. One of the other boys on the boat cleared his throat and asked, rather shyly, if he could pet Sylvester. Killian looked to Sylvester himself for permission, nodding his ascent when the Kneazle did nothing but flick his ear toward him. The boy reached out carefully, his hand steady but gentle. Sylvester sniffed the offered hand and then rubbed his head into it. Killian had a brief flash of jealousy at the acceptance but brushed it away quickly. This boy could be a potential friend after all.

Sylvester soon grew tired of the unfamiliar hand petting him and showed his discomfort by pinning back his ears and giving a low hiss. The other boy snatched his hand back quickly. Killian nearly chuckled at the Kneazles antics. The other boy looked back to him and smiled.

“What’s your name?” he asked in a hushed tone. “Mine is Charles Weasley, but you can call me Charlie.”

“My name is Killian.” He replied, keeping his surname out of the mix entirely.

“That’s a pretty awesome name,” the boy, Charlie, said in reply. “What’s the cat’s name?”

“This is Sylvester, and he’s a pure blooded Kneazle.” Killian said with some pride. He knew Sylvester was a handsome boy, and he was proud to be chosen by such a picky creature.

“A Kneazle? That’s so cool! I’ve never seen a Kneazle in person before, mummy says they scratch up the furniture.” Charlie said with a pout.

“Sylvester hasn’t scratched up anything since he picked me. Maybe your mum didn’t meet a real Kneazle?” Killian replied.

The other boy interjected. “What’s your last name, Killian. That’s a rare name after all, and the only Killian I’ve heard of is the one with Death Eaters as parents.” He said with a sneer.

Killian flushed and looked away. “Graves.” He muttered. 

“Ha! I knew it! You’re the boy Death Eater! The one who served He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named before he disappeared!”

Killian kept his eyes on his new shoes. They were nice, faux leather and dark to match his robes. Jake had helped pick them out for him.

“Did you hear me, Death Eater? I said how many muggles have you killed with your parents?” The cruel boy jeered.

Killian dared look up from his shoes and saw that most other children in the surrounding boats were also looking his way. He felt tears prickling in his eyes and wondered what his father would do if he knew Killian had been brought to tears twice in the same day, mere hours apart. Probably smack him.

“I never… killed any Muggles.” He whispered, almost replying that he’d never killed anything, but those poor gnomes in the garden were victims of his father’s teaching, dying under his hand. Tears leaked from his eyes at the memories of cursing the defenseless creatures. He hated his father’s lessons.

“Aww, is the poor Death Eater crying? Do you want your mummy? Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll see her soon- in Azkaban.” He cackled cruelly.

Killian curled into himself further, and Sylvester hissed at the other boy in displeasure. He looked slightly scared of the Kneazle, which comforted Killian to a degree.

With a jolt, the boats docked on the shore, and Killian realized he’d missed the entire trip. He had been looking forward to seeing the castle for the first time, but it was ruined by his name, as were most things. He left the boat as quickly as he possibly could, not even sparing Charlie a glance as he swept past his fellow passengers. The giant man, or was it man-giant, gathered them together again and lead the way to the castle quickly, herding them towards the large front doors of the castle. The doors opened as if by themselves, and a rather severe woman greeted them at the stairs.

“Welcome first years. We will be heading up these steps into the great hall for your sorting ceremony very shortly, and I expect all of you to wait your turn quietly and without complaint. Now, hurry along, we don’t want to keep the others waiting.” With that she turned around and headed up the staircase, turning to the right toward a large set of doors almost as impressive as the ones they’d entered previously. Killian was in awe of the whole school. Even without the view from outside, the architecture was incredible, with lofty pillars and high ceilings, paintings covering every wall as their occupants moved throughout. Killian had heard from his mother of moving staircases and he could hardly wait to see them, to discover everything the castle had lying in wait for him and Sylvester.

For now, he hurried up the stairs toward the middle of the group, keeping his distance from most other first years. He received a tap on the back and startled quite badly before realizing it was only Charlie, who managed to find him among the crowd. He smiled somewhat nervously. Charlie positively beamed back at him, waving to Sylvester who flicked his tail in return. They climbed the many stairs with growing excitement, hardly able to wait for the ceremony that would sort them into their houses.

Killian was quite nervous, as he knew his father was a Slytherin, and his mother a Hufflepuff. An odd pair, the two of them. If he was in Hufflepuff like his mother, his father would surely use it as an excuse to ridicule him more. If he was in Gryffindor, his father would likely use the Cruciatus curse on him. His best bet was Ravenclaw. If he were in Slytherin he would certainly turn out just like his father. He prayed he didn’t get sorted into Slytherin.

He was stopped at the entrance by the severe witch from before. “Why are you carrying around that Kneazle?” She asked with disappointment. He flushed and said that he didn’t know where to put Sylvester because the elf only took his trunk and Sylvester always rode on his shoulders.

“What’s your name, child?” She asked not unkindly.

“Killian Graves.” He replied, whispering his last name. The witch didn’t gasp exactly, but she did take in air sharply. Killian winced, prepared to be kicked out without a backwards look.

“I see. Well, as long as he doesn’t get in the way or cause a disruption, I see no reason to separate the two of you. Follow me now.” Killian sighed in relief at her words, following meekly behind her with Sylvester securely in his arms.

Upon entering the great hall, he was assaulted by the sheer noise coming from within. There was a bit of chatter, but the main event was a choir singing under the lead of a very short man, nearly the opposite of the one who led them here on the boats. The choir sang something about cauldrons, something about Hogwarts, and maybe something about a toad? Killian didn’t catch most of it, too busy looking at the charmed ceiling he’d read about in Hogwarts: A History. It was even more impressive than he imagined. Suddenly, the hall grew silent as a ragged hat was brought out to a stool in the middle of the hall. It sprang to life, clearing its throat and singing another rather rhymey tune about each of the houses and what they represented. He liked it much better than the choir’s song, not that he’d tell them that.

The song ended, and the first student was called up, one David Boorman. He went up rather nervously, his glasses slipping down his narrow face slick with sweat. The sorting hat was set upon his head and it thought for a moment. Finally, it called out “Ravenclaw!”

Next was Felix Brunt, a Gryffindor, and then Flynn Fairfax, who was a Hufflepuff. The severe woman from before called out “Killian Graves!” and he shrank in his spot. He wasn’t sure what to do with Sylvester, so he gathered him in his arms and approached the stool. Sitting down, he felt the hat’s leathery soft material settle around his head.

‘Interesting, very interesting. Plenty of brains, could be a good Ravenclaw, but I see ambition here as well as a longing to belong. Slytherin would take you far, and Hufflepuff would nurture you. I see you don’t want to be a Gryffindor, rather rare nowadays.’ The hat grumbled in his head. Killian was startled with the information he was presented. He realized the hat took into consideration his desires, and so he whispered “Ravenclaw please” as quietly as he could to the hat.

‘Well, if you’re sure, with those brains of yours, yes, better be-’ “RAVENCLAW!”

Killian near cried with relief at those words. Ravenclaw was exactly where he wanted to be. He held Sylvester close and walked over to the table with blue and bronze tapestries above it, taking a seat near another empty one. He received strange looks for having a Kneazle in his arms, but he didn’t care at that moment. He just cuddled Sylvester close and breathed a sigh of relief.

The sorting continued with Quentin and Quinn Hughes, a Slytherin and Ravenclaw respectively. A few more students were called forward, Killian didn’t catch their names, however. Then it was Gordon Pummell, another Slytherin, Nymphadora Tonks and Donaghan Tremlett, both Hufflepuffs, Florence Ulrich, a Gryffindor, Dakota Vaughn, a Hufflepuff, and finally one Charles Weasley. He was a bit sad to see his new friend in Gryffindor, but he was happy all the same. With the sorting over, the hat was removed along with the stool, and one old wizard with a beard as long as he was taking their place. The severe woman announced that there would now be a word from the headmaster, Professor Dumbledore.

The bearded wizard cleared his throat and began. 

“Good evening to all returning students, and welcome to all the first years. These are some of the biggest groups we’ve seen in a while due to unfortunate circumstances, but alas, we mustn’t focus on the negatives. I would like to remind all students that the Forbidden Forest is, in fact, still forbidden, and that the dungeon girl’s bathroom is still out of order at the moment but is sure to be finished by next week. Now, I shan’t keep you waiting any longer. Enjoy the feast!”

With that, piles of food appeared on the table at once. Roasted turkeys, mashed potatoes, all manner of vegetables, side dishes, meats, and stuffing all piled high onto golden platters. Killian had never seen so much food at once. Sylvester meowed from his lap, voicing his near constant hunger loudly. Killian reached for the turkey first, grabbing himself and Sylvester a good slice to share. He then grabbed potatoes and some veggies, though he doubted Sylvester would be interested in sharing those. He grabbed his fork and dug in, delighted by the flavors he was assaulted with upon the first bite. The house elves here at Hogwarts were almost as good of cooks as Pinky and Penny!

With the main course finished, the dishes cleared and a whole manner of desserts took their place. Tarts, pies, ice cream, and pastries piled high in the center of the table. Killian reached for what seemed to be an apple tart first. He then sought out the ice cream, testing the flavors and finding chocolate, strawberry, and vanilla along with, delightfully, apple cinnamon, and blueberry pancake. The last was just on the side of too sweet for him, and he was already eating an apple tart, so he went with a safe vanilla. Sylvester looked on from his seat in Killian’s lap, reaching up every so often for a lick of vanilla ice cream.

All in all, Killian was positively stuffed. He ate turkey, potatoes, veggies, two apple tarts, and far too much ice cream. He looked at Sylvester, who also seemed very content with a belly full of turkey and vanilla ice cream. He looked up at the sound of snapping and saw the severe woman ready to speak to the students once the chatter settled down a bit.

“Attention first years! Please locate your prefects for directions to your house dormitories! Thank you all for this fine evening, and goodnight! Classes begin tomorrow after breakfast!”

Killian grew excited at the prospect of his new classes. He knew from Hogwarts: A History that all first and second years had the same seven classes consisting of Astrology, Charms, Herbology, Potions, Transfiguration, History of Magic, and Defense Against the Dark Arts. He was excited nonetheless, and he almost wished he could go to class right that minute. But he had a task, to find the prefect boy or girl from his house. It shouldn’t be too difficult; they wore badges after all.

Sylvester meowed, his head sniffing towards an older boy sitting not too far from Killian. He had a badge pinned to his robes. ‘There, that wasn’t so hard,’ Killian thought as we walked toward him. His path was intersected by one of the other first years, Quinn Hughes if he recalled correctly. He was a fairly average height for a boy their age, with brown hair and hazel eyes.

“Hello! I’m Quinn! You’re Killian, right? You look like you know where you’re going so I’m going to follow you if it’s all the same, okay?” The other boy said quickly.

“Okay,” Killian answered quietly, a bit put off by the other boy’s somewhat abrupt, nearly abrasive manner. He wasn’t used to other boys interacting with him in any kind manner, more used to punches thrown or insults hurled his way. Sylvester didn’t seem to have a problem with the boy, however, so Killian shrugged his shoulders and continued towards the badged boy. 

“Excuse me, are you a prefect?” He asked quietly.

The badged boy looked at him and sighed. “You firsties get us head students and the prefects confused all the time. Your prefects are over there, at the head of the table.” He directed kindly.

Killian flushed, looking towards the area he was directed to. Sure enough, a boy and girl older than he was, with badges pinned to their chests, were directing the other first year with the glasses from earlier, David if he wasn’t mistaken. He shuffled over with Quinn in tow, sidling up next to David and the two girls.

“Oh, good, we were about to call for you two, but now that everyone is here, we can begin.” The prefect girl spoke. She started off at a quick pace, the other prefect following behind a bit slower, more relaxed. They were led out of the great hall back into the equally large entrance hall and continued straight for a time before turning left to a much smaller room with some stairs. They walked up said stairs quickly and kept walking. After some time, they emerged into a slightly bigger room with hallways to either side.

“This is the fifth floor, and this corridor on the right takes us straight to the Ravenclaw dormitory. You would do best to remember this route, as it’s the quickest to the tower from the entrance hall, and it avoids the confusion of the moving stairs.” The prefect girl said knowledgably. They walked forward into a long corridor that had windows to the outside, and Killian couldn’t help but stop and take in the view. To his right was what looked to be the courtyard, and to the left he could see some of the other towers.

Killian hurried to catch up to the others, Sylvester digging in his claws for the ride. The others had just started up another spiraling staircase when Killian caught up, and Quinn looked at him curiously. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, their way was halted by a door with a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle. The prefect cleared her throat and began explaining what exactly they faced.

“This is the entrance to our common room. This knocker, we call him Timothy, has a riddle that changes every week. The answer to that riddle is the password that allows you into the common room. If you ever forget, just use your head.”

“She means that literally.” The prefect boy chuckled.

The eagle, Timothy, cleared his throat and croaked out a riddle. 

“I am tall when I’m young, but I’m short when I’m old. What am I?”

Killian thought for a second. Something that gets smaller as it ages. That rules out any living creatures, so it has to be something inanimate. ‘Something that shrinks with age, and something most likely used by wizards… hmmm.’ Killian puzzled over the answer, looking around at the other first years to see if they had any clue. The two Prefects were amused as they looked upon the five confused first years. Suddenly, something flickering caught his eye. A candle lighting the staircase. A candle! That’s it!

“A candle.” He said quietly. The door swung inward with a click.

“Impressive, firstie! Very well done! How did you get it?” the prefect boy asked.

“I knew it was something used by wizards, and that it wasn’t anything living, and then I saw the candle behind you two and it clicked.” Killian replied quietly.

Quinn looked impressed, and David was in awe. The girls looked a little flustered, upset they hadn’t thought of the answer first. Killian flushed again, and Sylvester meowed plaintively from his arms. “Can you show me to my room please? Sylvester is very tired, and I want to go to the library before bed.” He asked the prefect boy, assuming that the sleeping quarters were separate like in the group home.

“Sure, of course, just go straight through the common room to Rowena’s statue, and the staircase on the left takes you to your dorm. The dorms are marked by year, so make your way into the first year’s dorm.” The prefect Killian still didn’t know the name of directed. “The library is on the first floor directly below us, just head down the corridor, straight through the first room, turn right and continue straight through the following two rooms, and then you’re there.”

Thanking the boy profusely, Killian headed straight to the statue of Rowena, the founder of Ravenclaw and Hogwarts itself. He walked quickly up the stairs, reassuring Sylvester that he could sleep in a nice comfy bed soon. Upon walking up the first flight of stairs, he was greeted with a sign on the door stating “SIX”. ‘Must be the sixth-year dorm.’ He thought. The next door had a seven posted on it, and the one after that, mercifully, had a one. He opened the door hastily, looking in to see three beds spaced fairly far apart in a room that looked to be able to hold around six students at its maximum. Killian was glad for the space. He knew he had night terrors and resolved to look up a silencing charm along with Reparo once in the library. For now, he set Sylvester down and looked to the furthest bed from the entrance. Their trunks were lined up along the wall near the door, so he grabbed his, looking inside to be sure it was his, and dragged it to the bed he’d picked out.

The door opened behind him suddenly, and Killian flinched in remembered fear. He turned quickly to see both of his new roommates walking in, both excited upon seeing their quarters. Killian continued to drag his trunk to his bed, and upon getting there he slid it against the foot of the bed. He sat down and panted. The trunk was heavy!

“I’ll take the middle bed!” Quinn called out, grabbing his trunk and pulling it to the chosen spot. Sylvester jumped onto the bed with Killian. He pets the Kneazle for a moment before going to the trunk and opening it. He got out some comfortable clothes for sleeping in later and grabbed his books to stack on his bedside table for reading. He also grabbed the Bertie Botts from his robe pockets and put them next to the books. He bid Sylvester goodbye and set out to find the library. The prefect’s directions were clear in his head, and as he walked towards the door he took in the sight of the common room. It was quite elegant, with bronze furniture and blue pillows, and blankets with the house crest on them. There were bookcases lining the walls as well Killian was delighted to note.

As he exited the dormitory, a slight chill swept over him. He ignored the sudden cold and kept walking down the stairs. A silvery sheen of movement flashed in the corner of his eye, and he turned around to be met with the grey face of a beautiful woman.

“You’re new. Did I miss the sorting? I’m so terribly forgetful sometimes.” She breathed. Killian was excited by her presence, having read about the ghosts that inhabited the castle, and meeting one on his first day? This was incredible!

“H-hello! I’m Killian, what’s your name?” he asked politely.

“Oh, my name? Most students call me The Grey Lady, but my name is Helena. Helena Ravenclaw.” She answered airily. 

He’d read about her in Hogwarts: A History. To be meeting her on his first day was so exciting! He’d read that she’d stolen her mother Rowena Ravenclaw’s diadem, and that her mother had sent the Baron after her to retrieve it. She was killed by the Baron after she refused to return with him, and upon coming to his senses, the Baron then took his own life. He too roamed the halls, as the Slytherin house ghost no less. Helena was Ravenclaw’s house ghost and Killian was indeed honored to meet her.

“It was really nice to meet you, Helena, but I’m heading to the library to learn a charm right now and I don’t have time to chat. Maybe next time.” He said with more confidence than normal. He felt at ease around the woman, maybe because she reminded him of his mother. Whatever the reason, he felt the desire to get to know her better. She could prove an invaluable resource in the future. He continued down the stairs and through the long corridor, following the directions given earlier.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

Upon making it to the library, Killian gasped. It was humongous. Shelves upon shelves lined the floor in rows upon rows of books. There was a small desk towards the front of the room, and a rather old witch sat on a rickety chair, glasses perched precariously on her hooked nose. He headed to the desk to ask whereabouts he would find a book on charms such as Reparo, or a silencing or muffling charm for his curtains.

“Excuse me, ma’am, where would I find a book on charms?”

The librarian looked up at him surprised. “Hello, most students are in bed at this hour, we do have a curfew you know.” She said suspiciously.

“Oh, I wasn’t informed. I’m sorry. But this is important. My book, it was destroyed on the train, and I want to put a silencing charm on my bed curtains.” He explained quickly.

“The beds are charmed already, and I’m so sorry to hear about your book, but again it’s past curfew. Perhaps you could bring me the book tomorrow and we can see about repairing it?” She said kindly. Killian sighed, resigned to his fate.

“Okay, thank you, I’ll see you tomorrow first thing after class.”

Walking out of the library, feeling a little disparaged, Killian made his way back to the dormitory. He didn’t pass another soul, living or dead, along the way. Making his way into his shared room, he went and sat on his bed. Sylvester picked up his head and mewed sleepily at him, stretching his lithe little body. Killian huffed out a laugh and ran his hand down Sylvester’s back. He turned to his books and the jellybeans. ‘Should I get some rest tonight so I’m ready for classes tomorrow? Probably. There will be time for reading later.’ He thought to himself. He decided sleep was what is most important that night. He drew the curtains and changed into his bedclothes, making sure to be careful of Sylvester.

“Goodnight, Sylvester.” He said quietly, not sure how well charmed the curtains were. He settled under the heavy duvet and closed his eyes.

By the time Sylvester had found a perfect spot on the bed, Killian was fast asleep.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

He woke up to Sylvester patting his face with a soft paw. “Good morning to you too, Sylvester.” He said groggily. He drew the bed curtains on one side of the bed, checking on his two roommates. ‘Both still asleep, good.’ He made his way over to his trunk and got out a set of robes for the day. Changing into the robes, he put his pajamas under his pillow. He got out the satchel he’d purchased in Diagon Alley to carry his supplies, packing it with parchment paper and quills, along with a few ballpoint pens in case the quills were hard to work with. He also packed his needed books like Magical Drafts and Potions, A Beginners Guide to Transfiguration, and A History of Magic. He was glad the satchel came pre-charmed with an expansion spell.

With his supplies packed, he glanced at Sylvester, who was watching him with clear blue eyes.

“C’mere boy, let’s get breakfast.” He whispered to the Kneazle. Sylvester purred and walked up the offered arm to take his place on Killian’s shoulders. They quietly exited the room, shutting the door softly behind them. Killian reached up to scratch Sylvester’s chin as he made his way down the spiraling staircase. Walking swiftly through the common room, he made his way down the multiple stairs, moving with purpose to the great hall for breakfast. After five flights, he finally made it to ground level and walked down the long corridor to the main branch of the castle. He walked through the entrance hall on his way to the dining hall, and he was surprised to see the doors wide open. He supposed that having them closed constantly would only make moving in and out in a crowd that much harder, so it made sense to leave them open. After all, this was a school full of capable witches and wizards; a threat would be hard pressed to break through its unseen defenses.

Entering the great hall, Killian had a quick look about to see who else had risen early. There were very few fellow students sitting at the lengthy tables, mainly older children ready to start the day off right, those who most likely got a good amount of sleep, not kept up by sheer excitement like the younger students. There were four teachers at the back of the room. The severe woman who met him and his fellow first years in the entrance hall, a man with a crooked nose and long, dark hair, a portly witch with a jolly kind face, and the huge half-giant who led them across the lake. He wasn’t sure if the latter was really a teacher, as he wore no robes as was required in the school.

Sylvester broke him from his musings with the impatient tap of a paw. Killian chuckled and made his way to the same place he’d sat hours ago. There were the same gold platters lining the center of the table, but rather than the hearty meal options from the previous night, there were pancakes, waffles, eggs, bacon, fruits, cereal, toast, and some blueberry muffins. Sylvester jumped onto the table, far too hungry to wait for Killian to grab something for him, making his way to the muffins right away.

“Sylvester! That’s rude you know! I was going to grab one for you if you’d just waited a second.” He admonished with no heat behind his words. He could never be angry at his little fluffy companion. He reached for some of the waffles, obviously far superior to pancakes, and the jug of syrup. He poured the syrup over his chosen waffles, making sure to fill each square. Picking up his fork, Killian dug in. He sighed as the comforting flavors flooded his mouth. Meanwhile, Sylvester was inhaling muffins from his spot on the table.

“Excuse me, but why is your cat on the table, and eating blueberry muffins no less?” Someone called from behind him. Killian hastily finished chewing and turned to find the owner of said voice.

“Well, Sylvester was hungry, and nobody else was eating here, so I didn’t think there would be a problem.” He said meekly to the person confronting him. They were young, maybe his age, wearing a Hufflepuff scarf though it wasn’t cold inside.

“Oh, there’s no problem, I was just curious. Cats don’t usually eat blueberry muffins.” The boy said quickly. Killian mentally sighed with relief, they were just curious. 

“Well, this is Sylvester, and he’s a Kneazle. He eats whatever he likes whether I want him to or not. And he has no manners to speak of, which is why he’s on the table.” Killian explained with a pointed look towards the cat-like creature.

“Oh! A Kneazle! I’ve heard they can guide you back to your home from anywhere! Sorry, I haven't even introduced myself. I’m Flynn, Flynn Fairfax. What’s your name?”

“I’m Killian.”

“That’s a pretty neat name, much better than Flynn, haha.” The other boy laughed.

Killian was glad the other boy didn’t recognize his name straight away. This small comfort was ripped away with the next sentence. 

“Your last name is Graves, right? I only ask because I think I saw a boy picking on you for it last night in the boats.”

‘Oh no’ Killian thought, freezing in fear.

“You don’t need to worry about me though! I know what that’s like, I’m a blood traitor, after all.” Flynn said reassuringly. “I know what it’s like to have parents who worked for You-Know-Who, and to have others not understand that you’re not your parents.”

Killian was so relieved he nearly cried. Then he did a double take. He knew what it was like? He knew how terrible he felt about what his parents did, to be ridiculed for it? This Flynn Fairfax just got a whole lot more interesting.

“Thank you.” He said sincerely.

“Of course, us Death Eaters have to stick together after all, am I right?” Flynn chuckled darkly, causing Killian to choke on his breath. “Just a joke, lighten up Killian!” 

Sylvester walked over, done scarfing muffins for now. He pushed his head under Killian’s hand insistently. Killian gave in and stroked Sylvester’s ears, giving the Kneazle some much desired attention.

“May I?” Flynn asked with a gesture to Sylvester’s purring form.

Nodding his ascent, Killian removed his own hand which was replaced by Flynn’s gentle fingers. Sylvester purred louder, rubbing his head vigorously into the offered hand. Flynn chuckled, taking his hand away before saying goodbye and walking to the Hufflepuff table for his own breakfast. Killian returned to his own gratefully. Inhaling the syrupy waffles with gusto, Killian finished his meal quickly.

He was approached by someone as soon as he was done with his breakfast. It was the head boy from last night, who handed him a piece of paper with the words “here’s your schedule for the year”. Killian was excited to see which classes he shared with which house, hoping that he shared most with Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. He wasn’t disappointed with the first class, which was History of Magic shared with Gryffindor. Then Charms and Astronomy with Slytherin, Transfiguration with Hufflepuff, Herbology with Gryffindor, Potions with Hufflepuff, and finally Defense Against the Dark Arts with Hufflepuff. He was pretty happy to have the majority of his classes with Hufflepuff.

He has three classes a day. Monday saw him with  History of Magic and double Charms, on Wednesday he had double Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and on Friday he had Astrology, Potions, and Herbology. Tuesday he had double Potions and Herbology, and on Thursday he had double Defense Against the Dark Arts  and Transfiguration. He wasn’t too upset with this outcome as it meant that he shared most classes with Flynn, the possible friend from earlier.

More students began to flood the great hall as the sun rose higher in the sky. Someone sat down next to Killian with a huff, startling him. It was Quinn. Perhaps he too was a possible friend, they shared a room after all.

“You sure rise early, don’t you?” Quinn grumbled tiredly. He seemed to not be a morning person. Killian would understand, but he’d always risen early so as not to be caught unawares in his previous homes. “I don’t understand you “morning people”. How anyone can rise before twelve is a mystery.” Definitely not a morning person then. Killian giggled a bit.

“Find my suffering funny, do you?” Killian shook his head and tried to stave the bubbling laughter.

“No. I’ve always had to rise early to avoid my housemates. It’s natural to me now.” He explained, giggles subsided for now. Sylvester meowed in agreement. “Nowadays I have this little fellow to help get me up too.” He added, scratching the mischievous feline’s chin with affection.

“Speaking of the cat, why are you bringing it with you everywhere. You can't bring it to classes I’m sure.” Quinn asked politely. 

“I can't? Why not? He’s very well behaved, and he knows when to quiet down I’m sure. After all, he’s a Kneazle, not an ordinary cat.” Killian replied fretfully. That was a good question. Where would Sylvester go if the professors didn’t allow him to stay? Maybe he could ask Sylvester to stay in the dormitory while he was in class.

Suddenly a loud clanging was heard. Sylvester startled and jumped into Killian’s arms.

“That’s the clock tower. Seems it’s time to head for class. I haven't looked at my schedule yet, do you know where we’re going?” Quinn questioned.

“We’re going to History of Magic first. I think it’s on the first floor in our tower.” Killian said confidently. “After that we have double Charms with Slytherin, which is on the third floor past the Great Hall.” Killian pet Sylvester’s back soothingly, deciding he’d take the Kneazle to class and if the teacher put up a fuss, he’d ask to take him upstairs to his dorm.

“Great. Double Charms and Slytherins, my two favorite things. Not that I have a thing against Slytherins, my twin brother is one, after all!” Quinn said moodily.

“You don’t like charms? Why not?”

“I’m not sure, but the first time I tried one I had green eyebrows for a week.”

“You tried your magic? I thought… Jake told me we weren’t allowed to do magic outside of school, because we’re underaged wizards.” Killian questioned.

“Well, yes, but we can get away with it as first years because most of us don’t know the rules, as there are muggle-borns out there who’ve never even heard of the Ministry. We young wizards get a bit of a cushion before starting school.” The other boy explained knowledgeably.

“Oh.”

They were making their way down the corridor to their class with the other Ravenclaws. The two girls were chattering away with one another, and David was quietly walking behind them. As they reached the end of the hall, some Gryffindors joined them at a run, two boys racing each other into the classroom. Killian recognized one as Charlie Weasley. The other was an unknown. Killian and Quinn shared a look. “Gryffindors.” They both said at the same time, breaking out into giggles.

As they entered the classroom, a chill climbed over Killian’s skin. He looked around to see what caused it and wasn’t disappointed. Indeed, there was a ghost in the classroom. He was a rather spindly old fellow, with plain frumpy clothes and no discernible cause of death.

“I wonder what he’s doing in a classroom. Aren’t there rules against it?” Quinn asked.

“Perhaps he’s the teacher.” Killian said with a muffled chuckle.

“Yeah, right. And a werewolf is our head of house. Very funny Killian.” The other boy said with a smirk.

The ghost cleared his… well his throat, not that he had one.

“Welcome first years to History of Magic. I am Professor Binns. Now if you’d all sit down, I think we’ll begin with the founding of the Pureblood Wizarding Alliance of 1367. This alliance was founded by…” The ghost droned in a monotonous voice. Quinn’s jaw dropped, and he looked to Killian in disbelief.

“Ha! Told you so! And he hasn’t said a thing about Sylvester!” Killian crowed quietly. Professor Binns droned on in the background, oblivious to the quiet conversations happening behind him as he tried to write on the chalkboard. He seemed unaware of the fact that his hand was moving through it, and Killian wondered if he even knew he was dead.

He and Quinn settled in for one long, boring class. Killian, ever the diligent student, retrieved a piece of parchment and began to take notes while Quinn closed his eyes and put his head in his arms. This was going to take a while.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* :･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

“Finally! It’s over! Freedom!” Quinn yelled when the bell sounded, ending class.

“Not for long, we have double Charms next.” Killian reminded his friend as they exited the boring classroom. They were friends now, right?

“Of course we’re friends! We share a room, and a house, and all our classes, and you helped me out at breakfast. Definitely friends now.” The boy responded. Killian hadn’t realized he’d spoken the question aloud, but he was glad his... friend took it in stride. Sylvester squirmed from his place in Killian’s arms.

“Sorry Sylvester, but you can't be on my shoulders in the crowded hallway.” Killian explained fretfully. Sylvester calmed his squirms with a small growl, obviously discontent with his predicament.

As they passed by the Great Hall, they were joined by the Slytherins who shared the class with them. A familiar looking boy walked up to Killian’s free side with a smile.

“Hey Quinn! Who’s your friend? I'm Quentin, this idiot’s twin.” The boy said with a happy tone.

“Hi, my name is Killian, Killian Graves.”

“Graves, huh? Are you perchance related to the two Graveses residing in Azkaban?”

“That’s me, but I assure you I am not my father.” Killian said tensely, his tone near a whisper.

“Okay, touchy much? It’s not your fault you’re related to them, I get it.”

They finally reached the end of the corridor and all sighed with relief. None noticed they were suddenly alone.

“Which room was it again? Do you guys remember?” Quinn asked. Where would that boy be without Killian to guide him? Sylvester meowed from his arms, his protests picking up again.

“Across from room 37 I think.”

“This says room 17. Guys are we on the right floor?” Quentin asked, voice raising.

“Oh no. We only have a few minutes to make it to class! I don’t even know where the stairs are in this wing!” Quinn whined worriedly.

“It’s ok, there was a map of the floors and rooms in Hogwarts: A History, I’m pretty sure there’s a staircase down the hall.” Killian directed smoothly, trying to keep his friends from getting too worked up. Sylvester yowled, truly agitated now. Killian looked at him worriedly, wondering what had the feline so worked up.

“Thank Merlin you read those stuffy textbooks.” Quinn exclaimed, following the others at a run down the hallway.

“If I recall correctly, the Charms corridor is on the third floor, and we’re still on the first, right? So we should only have to run up two flights of stairs and we’re golden.”

“Okay, okay, let’s just hurry it up, I don’t know who the teacher is yet and I don’t want to find out what they do to tardy students!”

The three rushed up the stairs at top speed, only Quentin stumbling in their mad dash to the third floor. Once at the top of the staircase, they rushed to check the nearest room number. ‘36, thank goodness.’ Killian sped over to the next room, number 37, then looked to the opposite side of the hall. The bell still hadn’t signaled the end of transition, so they still had time. Sylvester growled mutinously from Killian’s arms, not appreciating the run whatsoever.

All three rushed forward into the room, breathing a sigh of relief at seeing fellow students in Ravenclaw and Slytherin garb taking up the stands around the center of the room. They looked around for a professor but saw no one. Taking their seats next to one another, they panted in exertion, the run having done them no favors. Killian released Sylvester to find a comfortable seat for the duration of class. The Kneazle glared at the three boys and stalked off under the bench, tail swishing with displeasure.

Suddenly, someone cleared their throat from the center of the room. They were perched upon stacks of books, seemingly all Charms related. Upon closer inspection, the man was wearing teacher’s robes and silver spectacles. Could this dwarf, possibly gnome or goblin, be their professor?

“Good afternoon, students! I am Professor Flitwick, and I will be your instructor for the duration of the year! I can see that we have Ravenclaws among us, and as your Head of House, I expect you all to be on your best behavior!” The small wizard squeaked from his stack. Killian was taken aback; this was their head of house? He supposed that if they had giants working for them, they could have the opposite as well. He stifled a giggle. It was rude to laugh at one’s stature before getting to know them.

“Please take out your textbooks and read through the introduction as well as chapter one. Meanwhile, I’ll set up our first lesson!” Flitwick said excitedly, hurrying off his stack of books to the center of the room, moving tables and books with his wand as he went. Killian dug around in his bag for a moment, grabbing the needed textbook as well as some quills and parchment. He’d been worried the quills might be hard to work with, but they were actually quite fun and he liked the way the feather swished in the air as he jotted down notes.

The beginning of the book was mostly preface, an intro to the person behind the series, and how the book was meant to be used by those intending to learn from it. Killian took no notes on that portion. The first true chapter was an introduction to Charms and the application of them in every witch and wizard’s ordinary life. The first few charms they would learn will be simple, harmless things like Alohomora, Aparecium, Colovaria, Wingardium Leviosa, Impervius, Cerulum Igniculus, Molliare, and Cave Inimicum. Most were fairly beginner level, and all were 

mostly harmless when done right.

Seeing as most curses, hexes, and jinxes were also charms, Killian was sure he’d have no problem with these lower level spells. He’d mastered many of the higher-level ones after all, even the forbidden curses. Especially the forbidden ones. His father didn’t allow failure.

The Professor called their attention back after fifteen minutes, plenty of time to read and take notes in Killian’s opinion.

“Attention, students! Now that you have read what we’ll be doing, where do you think we will start first?” A question was posed.

Quinn raised his hand, along with a girl from their house and two people from Slytherin.

“Yes, Ms. Brown?”

“Colovaria or Aparecium would be a good place to begin, both are completely harmless, the pronunciation is easy even for beginners, and both can be useful in everyday life.” The girl from their house, Laura Brown if he remembers correctly, states with confidence.

“Brilliant! Just perfect, exactly right Ms. Brown! Now, everyone flip to page thirteen, where the wand work and pronunciation for Colovaria is located. We’ll begin with that one, and by the end of this lesson, you should be able to change the trim of your robes into your house colors!” Flitwick said excitedly. Killian was excited as well, glad to finally be getting some proper lessons in spell casting.

The majority of the class was spent working on the wand movements and pronunciation, both separately for now. Each person went to the center of the room and demonstrated their best movements and clearest speech. Killian knew his father could do some silent wand work, but for beginners, the well-worn path that the spoken spell carved for their magic to follow was key to mastering the charm. He was sure with practice, he could probably cast it silently, which would make for some good pranks come summer. He might even be able to cast wandlessly, but that was aiming very high and depended greatly on how much practice he could do by himself while in school. According to Quinn, the way the Ministry traced underaged magic was through the wand, unless the person was already under suspicion. Killian was sure he was not under suspicion, considering Jake’s liking of him, and his current lodgings. But back to the lesson. It was his turn to demonstrate.

He moved to the center of the room confidently, sure he had the spell down pat. Moving through his demonstration, Killian flawlessly showed Professor Flitwick what his years of training could do.

“Brilliant! Absolutely perfect! Masterfully done Mr. Graves.” Killian suddenly wished Flitwick didn’t utter his last name. He could see the girls from his house eyeing him mistrustfully, and a few of the Slytherins checking him out with renewed interest.

Killian shook off the stares, it was Quentin’s turn to show what he’d learned and he wanted to see what his new friend could do.

“Okay, so I think the wand movement is like a curly C, right? And it’s colovar-EE-ah right?”

“Not quite, Mr. Hughes, your movements are good, however it’s colo-VAR-ia, emphasis more on the V-A-R. Good job though, I’m sure you’ll have it by the time class is over!” Flitwick encouraged. Quentin looked crushed.

Next up was Quinn, who moved through both pronunciation and movements flawlessly. Killian might have some competition for best Charmer, if you don’t mind the pun. For someone who hated Charms, he wasn’t too shabby with them so far.

Killian looked to Quentin watching his brother, his twin, succeed where he’d fallen short.

“Sometimes, it’s so hard being his twin. Watching the prodigal son succeed where I am left to struggle.” The boy said with melancholy. “Please don’t mention it to him, I don’t even know what I’m saying-“

“It’s okay. I know what it’s like to live in your family’s shadow.” Killian whispered back, the secret safe with him.

“Yeah, I guess you would know, huh?”

“Hey guys, what’re you talking about?” Quinn asked.

“How awesome we’ll be able to prank everyone with this charm!” Quentin said seamlessly.

“Yeah, I know right? The pranks will be legendary! Especially with two Ravenclaws and a Slytherin on our team!”

Before they knew it, the demonstrations were over, and it was time to move on to the practical part of the lesson. Flitwick called them all to the center of the room, lined along the sides with a desk and feather in front of them. 

“Now, remember your pronunciation! Emphasis on the V-A-R! Smoothly move from the C shape to the loop! One wrist movement! Try to turn the feather into a primary color!” The Professor directed.

Killian confidently took out his wand for the first time in the school. First time ever, really. He felt it thrumming in his grip, happy to be of use to its wizard at last.

“Colovaria!” He said clearly, swishing his wand smoothly into a C with a looped tail. His feather went from a crisp white to a beautiful cerulean blue in seconds. He looked up with accomplishment, glancing around to see who else had done it. Quinn was shifting his feather from purple to black already, Quentin had yellow eyebrows, the rest of the Ravenclaws had changed their feathers to red, yellow, or blue, and the Slytherins were busy switching each other’s hair colors from pink and baby blue to green.

“Great job! Wonderful everyone! Remember, we’re working on feathers, not each other!” more encouragement came from the tiny wizard.

By the time class was over, the trim on everyone’s robes were their house colors, just as Flitwick had promised. There were also some hair color changes as well. Quentin got Quinn to spell his eyebrows back to their natural color, and Killian couldn’t help but giggle at the staggering similarities between the two twins. 

Professor Flitwick assigned them all a paper on the spells they were set to learn in the coming months. It was to be a page and a half long at least, and it was supposed to be on pronunciation, wand movement, and practical application of each spell. Killian was looking forward to doing the research, though he could tell Quentin was much less enthused.

The three (four counting Sylvester, and Killian would always count him) walked out of the class and into the Great Hall, as lunch was finally upon them. Killian and Quinn sat at the Ravenclaw table, and Quentin lingered for a few minutes, whispering to his twin before departing for the Slytherin table.

“What were you two talking about?” Killian asked quietly, prepared to be told to shove off.

“Nothing, really. Quentin is just nervous to be sitting among snakes, though he is one himself. I wonder why he was placed in that house, he always came across as more of a Gryffindor to me…” Quinn mumbled, reaching for the sandwich platter.

“Maybe he secretly wants to take over the world?” Killian joked quietly.

Quinn laughed and nodded along, still looking troubled. Sylvester poked his head above the table, looking for something to eat.

“Give me a moment, Sylvester, I’ll get you some turkey slices.” He chided as the Kneazle attempted to climb onto the table again. He grabbed some sandwiches and deconstructed them, pulling out the meat for the young cat.

“Funny, you talk to him like a person. Have you ever had a pet before him?” Quinn asked, shoving half a sandwich into his mouth.

“Well, my mother wanted to get me a Puffskein, but… My father, he wasn’t…. very nice, I suppose. He would never have allowed me to get a pet.” Killian explained quietly, eyes downcast.

“Oh. I suppose he would have to be… not nice, in order to serve You-Know-Who.” The other boy said, glancing at his friend’s small form with concern before snatching another sandwich half.