Verus

Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands.

The book Theo had gifted him ranged from the many families and their magical alliances- detailing who not to wrong and who to simply ignore- all the way to the many teachers that taught within the castle walls- noting those that favoured certain houses and ones which held prejudices. 

Harry had poured over it during the long train ride, conversing with Theo here and there, asking questions and having his curiosities filled. The boy had done him a massive favour with it, there was no denying that, and the both of them knew it. 

Harry had to stow the notebook away once the carriage had begun to slow, older students banging on doors to alert the rest of them that they were due to arrive soon. Theo had informed him that they should change into their school robes not long before the train pulled in and Harry had taken silent note of the silver scars which had lined the boys back as they did so.

By the time they’d made it to Hogsmeade though, the squeak of the train’s wheels still echoing through the station, Harry was brimming with energy- just not the nervous kind.

The station didn’t have much to offer in truth, not after Harry had seen King’s Cross at its busiest, but he caught sight of the village just outside of the sloped walls and was looking forward to wandering through it soon.

Seeing the castle was a rather jarring experience for him once he’d caught sight of her on the walk up. She looked unchanged from a distance but the closer and closer they got, the more Harry noticed. Merlin had been right, so much of it had changed.

“What’s with the massive tent towers?” Harry found himself asking, tilting his chin in the direction of the ugly oncoming structure. He was grateful that Theo had suggested that they linger more towards the back of the remaining students wandering their way up to the school when said boy laughed at his question.

“That’s the Quidditch pitch.” Theo informed him, smirking like the cat who’d caught the cream.

Harry gave him a sarky sort of smile in retort before he grimaced back at the so-called pitch. “More like an eyesore.”

He was rewarded with a showy snort from Theo as the pair of them carried on. “What, do they not have Quidditch where you’re from?” It was said mockingly, but Harry heard the light teasing lilt at the very end.

“We don’t.” He replied honestly, keeping his eyes trained ahead as opposed to glancing Theo’s way and laughing at the surprise that currently cemented his face. “Prefer to fly through tentacled hoops for fun, actually.”

The Nott Heir spluttered, well, only just. Seeing as it was Theo he was talking about, Harry had learned quite quickly that the boy didn’t ever give much away. “Tentacled hoops?” He questioned. 

Harry nodded once, “Yeah, over this big lake we had. And when it would freeze in Winter, we’d dance or skate across it instead.” He heard Theo let go of a baited sigh and snorted. “What, do you not ice skate where you’re from?”

Theo aimed a pointy elbow into his upper arm and Harry just about managed to dodge the second blow, still chuckling away to himself.

Whilst they continued on the rocky path, Harry’s keen gaze tracking the length of the forest, Theo seemed to enjoy informing him of the things they passed by and the typical introduction that the First Year's got. Harry was only a little glum about the fact that he’d missed out on a boat ride across the Black Lake- because who wouldn't be?- by the time they’d managed to make it through the castle’s gates.

Those were new, Harry acknowledged. The founders had drawn up plans for containing the grounds visibly, even with the wards in place, but he’d never gotten around to seeing them for himself.

They passed a little haggard hut soon after, one which Theo explained belonged to the current Gameskeeper, a half-giant who’d been expelled and given the job as a favour by the headmaster.

Harry had to bite his tongue at that, not wanting to probe and push for answers on Dumbledore just yet- not with Theodore at least, he was smart enough to be able to read inbetween the lines. So Harry had just nodded and let his eyes linger on the hut’s wilting roof for a moment before then dragged them on over to the pumpkin patch settled beside it.

Harry smiled when he caught sight of Helga’s familiar greenhouses though, the same as they’d been when he’d last seen them in early July, but let himself ask about the large tree that tossed lazily just behind them. He knew for definite that it hadn’t been there way back when, so he guessed it’d been planted purposefully.

“Is that not dangerous?”

Theo, always quick on the uptake, rolled his eyes at the forsaken tree, and gave a slight infuriated shake of his head. “It’s a monstrosity. Taylor Mackaddon nearly had his head taken off in fifth year when he’d gotten too close. He was a Gryffindor, so there would have been no love lost,” Harry wanted to laugh at that quip but instead pursed his lips, “Even so. Dumbledore has had dozens of complaints about the blasted thing from both governors and parents but swears it’s perfectly safe where it is.”

Harry frowned and stowed the information away for later. What would Dumbledore possibly want with a Whomping Willow tree?

It was only when they’d trekked over the last remaining hill and Harry got the chance to pass under the clock tower did he finally feel his shoulders relax, the castle's magic welcoming him home. His throat grew tight at the sensation, suddenly overwhelmed, and he pulsed a throng of his own magic back into the Old Girl's walls, smiling contently when he peered up at her ageing stone ceilings.

“Alright?”

Harry glanced Theo’s way, taking note of the many other students that were now crowding the entrance hall, all of which were chattering away, smiling and greeting missed friends. He nodded, “Never better.”

Theo gave him a somewhat amused look- Harry could only tell by the slight quiver of his lip and the light glint in his eye, but it was mirthful nonetheless.

“Shall we?” And he inclined his head to follow alongside the rest of their peers who were all being guided towards the Great Hall. 

They walked at a sedate pace, Theo humouring him and his many observations. There had been some new additions to the halls; grand rugs which lined staircases, chandeliers that wouldn’t have been found even in the richest of homes back in her glory days, statues and suits of armour that shifted in welcome. But even so, it was still the same castle. It still felt like home, very much so.

A tug on his sleeve had Harry pausing in his musings, eyes darting over towards his left. He let Theo hold him back from the rest, then dip them into a slight alcove, one which Harry could recall using to hide from a couple of Ric’s wielding students after a joke gone wrong around about a year earlier. Or was it a thousand and one now?

Harry quirked a brow at the hazel eyed boy once they were out of the way, “Trying to get me alone already, Theodore? You could’ve just asked, you know. I’m very much into the whole baring of soul thing. Grand gestures really get me going.”

Theo’s already narrowed gaze slitted even further in jest, “Ha ha. You could only wish. I was merely trying to help, you know seeing as you’re the first exchange student I’ve been witness to. You won’t just be able to stroll in with the rest of us lot- you’ll have to wait until the First Years get here at the very least.”

Harry huffed, even more waiting, great. “How dull.” He commented dryly. 

“Yes.” Theo snorted, eyes darting out towards where an older woman dressed in a knitted yellow scarf was now busy commandeering pupils into the Great Hall, whilst simultaneously handing out merry hello’s. “Still, you need to be sorted.”

With a resigning hum, Harry reminded himself of that fact too. A hat, if Regulus’s Diary was to be believed, or a baby dragon that hatched a coloured egg if he was inclined to listen to his Godfather.

“Best get in there then.” He supposed and watched as Theo's dark stare dragged its way back over to him.

“I’d say I’ve got two minutes to spare with Professor Sprout manning the doors this year.” Theo informed him, Harry catalogued the name.

“And you’re willing to spend them with little old me? Theo, any more flirting and you’ll have me blushing.” Harry snickered, batting his lashes just before he broke and grinned at the other boy’s displeased reaction. “So, what are you really going to do if I end up a Badger? Or, stars forbid- a Lion!”

Theo actually rolled his eyes at that one. “I’d kill you myself, at this rate.”

“You don’t mean that!” Harry gasped dramatically and got a swift kick to the shin for it, “Twat.”

With a lazy grin, Theo retorted, “A Claw I could deal with, a Puff would be harder to explain away. But a Gryffindor? We’d have to cut all ties, my dear.”

“My dear!” Harry exclaimed in hushed scandal, “So, a secret love affair is off the table then?”

Theo turned away to hide his small smile before he finally shifted on his heel, “I’ve got to go now, or they’ll begin to wonder. Make sure you don’t accidentally start a war or enter into a betrothal contract whilst I’m gone, either. Yeah? That train ride’s given me enough of a headache as it is.”

Before Harry could reply to that sly dig- he could handle himself just fine, thanks! Theo was smirking at him and slipping easily out from the alcove, “By the way, if this had been a come on, you would’ve known. Let’s just leave it at that.” Then he was gone, following the last remaining stragglers into the hall and leaving Harry to chuckle to himself.

“Well said, Nott. Touché.” He muttered under his breath before the scampering of pounding feet echoed on the stone staircase behind him.

Harry moved to press himself against the opposing wall, not wanting to be seen just yet, and watched on. He was quick in his assessment of the amassing group, about twenty or so children was all he could make out as of yet, but there were still more following. 

It was strange though, they’d managed to garner about half of these students back with the founders, he would have assumed that the number would have multiplied more than it had in a thousand years.

“Welcome to Hogwarts,” A sharp voice cut above the rest and Harry risked a glance up at the top of the stairwell, where the Great Hall doors had since been shut, to find a stern-faced witch in a hat and glasses looking down on them all. “I am Professor Mcgonagall, Head of Gryffindor house. The start-of-term banquet will start shortly, but before you take your seats you will have to be sorted into your own houses.”

She went on to explain the four houses and their shared traits, most of which Harry quickly grew tired of but what seemed to enthral the younger lot, even with the woman’s long winded speech.

The beginning to the end couldn’t have come soon enough though, in Harry’s opinion, but even that was still gruelling in length. She was meant to warm and welcome them to the teachings of magic! Not bore them into sentient statues.

“The Sorting Ceremony will take place in just a few minutes. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up whilst you wait, this will be your very first impression made amongst the rest of the school.” Mcgonagall sniffed, eyes roaming across the lot of them, Harry practically felt the way they all leant away from her glower. “I shall return for you when we are ready. Please wait quietly.” 

And with that she gave a curt nod and stepped back into the hall, Harry silently sent thanks to the Great Divine for the clipped ending. 

The First Years didn’t seem to pay much mind to the last bit of her lecture though, most already having sparked up conversation with the person next to them, whilst others pushed and shoved to get closer to the front. Harry smiled, remembering the first batch of witches and wizards he’d ever welcomed into the castle alongside Rowena and pressed a palm to cold stone.

But before he could linger too long on lost memories, Harry figured he’d best bide his time and put it to good use. So, he closed his eyes and let his magic shift around him, shortening him to the height of a typical eleven year old and softening his features enough so that he could slip seamlessly into the fold.

Which was what he did, once the stern woman from before returned and began leading the lot of them into the candlelit hall.

It was easy, blending in amongst a bunch of children in similarly dressed robes, he just kept his head down and followed the feet directly in front of him, listening to all the gasps and ahing that went on around him.

They stopped once they reached the front of the room and even though the urge to survey his surroundings grew stronger, Harry kept hold and waited the ceremony out. A list of names started to be called upon and one by one, each child stepped out of the crowd and wandered up towards the voice. 

Harry could just about make out the front of the hall from where he stood, the stool and the battered old hat which sat atop it could barely be seen through his curtain of lashes. He watched intently as they were all given a house.

Each one was politely applauded and Harry only recognised less than a handful of names that had been beckoned up before there was a prolonged pause, and then the stuttered mention of his own. 

“Potter, Harry?”

Murmurs filled the entire room and heads flew about every which way, searching for the boy with the lightning scar. Harry shuffled his way through the remaining children, but with the way most of the First Years were all scrambling to find him amongst themselves, no one was any the wiser to the way he inched his way closer and closer to the front.

By the time he’d stepped out and placed a foot on the first stair leading upwards, he was growing again, inch by inch. Back stretching, baby fat dissolving, hair curling.

And then, he took his seat. The Boy Who Lived. With the slightest of smirks on his face. One that was ever so minuscule a person would have only ever seen it if they were touching noses with him. But it was there. Oh, was it there.

Then that poxy hat got dropped on his head and the only thought Harry could think was-

‘I’ll have you know, child! My leather was made from the skin of Scotland’s finest bulls! Godric Gryffindor sewed me himself!’ The hat immediately squawked, rather indignantly Harry noted as he blinked beneath its large rim.

‘Oh, so you can hear my thoughts! Hang on, did you just say Ric sewed you?’ Harry snorted at the very picture his mind evoked: an old, greying Godric sat with a knitting needle in hand in the Great Hall, telling old tales to the tykes sweet enough to listen.

Harry practically felt the hat scowl before it soon deflated and all he heard was a low hum resonate somewhere inside his head. It sounded almost, surprised? 

‘Well, it would seem that I have a traveller on my hands. One of Godric’s too! No wonder your mind is all over the place- the man was deft with a sword but even I can admit that my stitching needs work.’

It was a hard task swallowing back the abrupt snort that wanted to escape him then, but Harry somehow managed it. ‘Oh, certainly. You must have been just after my time though, I can’t recall any of the founders having ever mentioned you. Sorry.’

‘No, it appears not. I was created in the later years of their lives, before they settled and soon passed. They spoke often of the far future, of how pupils would soon divide in years to come and they invented me to help sort their truths. They were ever insightful.’

‘You knew them well then?’ Harry couldn’t stop himself from asking, he’d gone so long trying not to think of them- of home. But now he was here, within the castle's walls and every thought and feeling and memory he’d ever suppressed since bidding goodbye had been very much amplified. He missed them. Dearly. Any detail he could scrounge up would be long treasured.

‘They each layered me in a shade of their magic.’ The hat replied kindly, and Harry could honestly feel it. ‘But perhaps you should visit me some other time to discuss it further, I’ll send for tea.’

Harry’s eyebrows rose.

‘Yes, tea! I’m a talking hat, but I still bare manners.’ The hat scoffed and Harry could only titter quietly, that had Helga written all over it. ‘Yes, well.’ The hat added upon hearing his thoughts, ‘She was always the more reasonable of the bunch.’

With a grin, Harry cherished the picture his mind painted of the older woman. Of her long flowing hair, her sweet smile.

It hurt.

‘So! We’d best get down to this sorting business then. Reckon we’ve left them waiting long enough, don’t you think?’ He swiftly prompted, feeling the room around him swell with tension, whispers hitting his ears but leaving him unable to actually internalise them.

The hat hummed once more in solemn agreement, ‘It wouldn’t do to have yet another stall, not so soon after the last. No, no. But yet, you older years are such a challenge to place, too many emotions, too many opinions!’

‘You can bow out, you know. If it’s too much of a struggle.’ Harry taunted and smiled only when he heard the hat tut in great offence.

‘Just as we were getting along, Mr Potter.’ It sighed, but it didn’t leave much room for Harry’s response, ‘I see a lot of their virtues in you, you know. So bold and brash. Godric woven into the depths of you. So intelligent it must hurt. Rowena would be rather proud. Amiable to all. But both a protector and an observer all at once.’

Harry sniffed with a sly smile, ‘You keep on and I’ll have the head the size of a dragon’s egg by the time we’re done, they’ll never be able to get you off me.’

A deep rumble of laughter echoed buoyantly. ‘Ah, ever so charming. A lot like Godric in that sense too.’

‘So, Gryffindor then?’ Harry prompted, only a little surprised by the decision. He had figured he would have had an even chance at being housed within them all, even whilst the four had all bickered amongst themselves over his placement back home, but he’d never admitted that out loud. 

‘Heavens, no! Courageous as you might be, Mr Potter, you are a hair too conniving to be placed amongst the stolid lions. Your talents are much better suited elsewhere.’

Harry heaved a theatrical sigh, ‘Well, as pleasant as your company has been- and don’t you doubt that, really- I’d be rather inclined to get a move on.’

Another hum. Harry fought not to roll his eyes, but it seemed as though the hat had sensed it anyway. ‘Better be..’

Oi! Hang on a second.

Harry tugged the sodding thing off, stepped back onto the stone floor and rounded on the hat he now held in his hands.

“Now listen here, you’d best think again. No, no-” He shook his head sternly and pursed his lips down at the now frowning leather, as though he were scolding one of the younger lot back home, “Yeah, you might think you know all, but you are just a hat! Oh sure,” Even without a proper consciousness (or a face for that fact!) Harry could still see each one of the hat’s arguments written in the details of its speckled hide. “Yes, it just might be your job- but nothing! If you can’t be seen to reason with then perhaps you’d be better off in another aspect, I hear the Wizengamot is full of old farts too stuck in their ways. Ha! You can grouch all you want, but you know full well I’m right. Yeah, and what would they say, hm?”

Harry laughed outrightly at the scowl the hat fixed itself into and then raised a dark eyebrow, goading for an actual answer this time around. The hat did finally mutter an assent of sorts, rather reluctantly mind, at that and so Harry grinned.

“Right then, let’s try this again. Shall we?” Harry spun around on his heel, plopped himself back onto the rickety wooden chair and tossed the hat on his head once more. Ignoring everyone else that sat stunned. 

‘You might just be the most insufferable sorting I’ve ever crossed!’ The hat seethed, although he didn’t appear as harried as Harry would have expected. In fact, he could almost sense some pride wafting into the far corners of his mind. 

‘Did you ever attempt to sort the founders?’ Harry immediately wondered, thoughts straying as they typically tended to, ‘I could picture Sal in a nice blue, couldn’t you?’

The laughter that followed allowed Harry to relax a little, the previous spat now forgotten. ‘Perhaps. Though best to leave those ideas of yours locked behind iron wrought doors.’

‘Is that right?’

‘Oh, of that I am sure, Potter.’

‘Potter now, is it? I thought you had grace, decorum!’

Harry was certain that if the hat could, it would’ve rolled its eyes at him, but alas all it could do was retort, ‘I do, but you have a way of getting under my skin and I know now that even Ms Hufflepuff herself would have had a field day trying to tame the likes of you.’

A beaming grin waxed Harry’s features then, ‘You can bet your buck on it.’

And before Harry could quite get a grasp on what was happening next, the hat called out to the entirety of the Great Hall, “BETTER BE, SLYTHERIN!”

Harry shrugged, unsurprised, then stepped off the stool once more, settling the hat down on its top when no one else dared move. He was elegant in the way he wiped down his robes next, then turned towards the faculty table, so much larger than it had once been, and dipped his chin at the stricken faces sitting there staring back at him.

By the time he’d made it over to the table of snakes, the rest of his house had gathered themselves enough to applaud, however pitifully in some areas, whilst the rest of the hall slowly came around too. Their claps followed by hissing whispers. But Harry paid them no mind.

“You’re an utter menace.” Theo sniped under his breath once Harry had finally taken the seat the boy had saved for him, “And a Potter, really? After all this time.”

Harry granted him a smug smile, “Thought you knew.”

“Oh, I did. But even so, I did not expect that shit show. What in Merlin’s name even happened up there?”

“A bit of a disagreement is all.”

“Yeah and half of Hogwarts isn’t shitting themselves right this second.” Theo retorted rather cuttingly, though the snort he paired it with allowed it to be seen as something softer, to Harry at least.

“Theodore! What would your father say if he could hear you now?” Harry overdramatized and shook his head at the young Nott heir, who in turn only levelled him with those cold calculating eyes of his. 

Harry grinned and then took his first chance to glance about the rest of the table, his smile only slipping when he caught sight of a familiar brand of hair. “Malfoy, is it not?”

The blond blinked at him, the disbelieving sneer he’d been wearing wiped away clean at the sudden acknowledgment. Theo released an amused exhale when Malfoy fish-mouthed slightly, though kept his expression as stoic as could be.

“I, yes. Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. I don’t believe we’ve been formally acquainted. Potter.” The name had been tacked on in a time just shy of impolite, Harry noted, and he reckoned the rest of the surrounding Slytherins did so as well. 

“No, we haven’t. Though your mother,” Harry sighed airily, forcing his smile to be a tad too affectionate as the image of Narcissa came to mind. They looked an awful lot alike, her and Draco, though Harry could see too much of his father in the boy as well. “She’s an utter delight, is she not?”

The Malfoy Heir gritted his teeth before he forced a smile. “That she is. Though I don’t remember her ever mentioning having met the missing Harry Potter.”

Harry smiled, pleased that he’d been able to ruffle Malfoy so easily, and waved the blond’s vague accusation off. “Oh, she wouldn’t have.”

He was met with another pair of narrowed eyes, though Draco’s fake smile still stuck. “I’ll have to write home and remind her of the encounter.”

With a slight shrug, Harry flashed a set of teeth in something of a smile and nodded, “I’ll be sure to, as well. I didn’t reply to her last letter.”

A spitting snort escaped the dark eyed boy sitting opposite Theo, although he didn’t seem to care for the spectacle he made of himself, nor the hot glare Malfoy shot his way.

“That’s Zabini,” Theo informed him, cheek dimpling with his ever so slight smirk. “Blaise, be a darling and introduce yourself properly.”

The boy merely rolled his eyes, though the smile he chose to put on was quite debilitating, ever practised but seemingly sincere. “Oh, I’d quite like to. Blaise Zabini, Heir to the Countess Zabini. Though I think she’d rather like to meet you, Potter.”

Harry felt oddly flattered, a Countess? He really was working his way up in the world! Closest he’d ever come to royalty was that time Edward the Confessor’s scribe had passed through this one Irish village whilst they’d been away travelling.

“I’d be honoured.” Harry said, though he caught the look in Theo’s eyes when the boy peered over at him, he’d ask more on that later. Blaise just hummed, a hungry look in eyes as they roved their way over his face.

“Daphne Greengrass,” A fair haired girl spoke up a second later and held a dainty hand out over the table, Harry smiled and carefully took it, finding that her grip was stronger than he’d expected. “You’re not the image I pictured.”

“Daphne!” Another girl rebuked, though before she could get another word in, a boy with ash coloured hair rolled his eyes at the pair of them and reached across the table for a clementine that was mostly just for show.

“She’s not wrong.” Was what he drawled, looking Harry’s way before he began to peel at the fruit’s waxy layer, “Figured he’d look all weedy, be a bit of a shut in. The recluse type.”

Harry had spent too much time in recent years pondering over the image that had been created of him, they always overplayed his appearance, his abilities. It was oddly refreshing to be shown different. Though what else could you expect from Slytherins?

“Asher Fawley,” The girl from earlier added, rolling her eyes at the now leering boy, “Spawn of humanity’s invented Satan.”

“How can he be spawned from a vague picture of an imagined creature?” Malfoy then interrupted the girl and her head turned so quickly in his direction that Harry honestly believed her sharp bob cut was going to slash her throat wide open.

“You’re missing the point, Draco.” The girl simpered and Harry saw how not just Theo’s eyes, but Zabini’s too, rose towards the magical ceiling in exasperation. She glanced back over at him quite hastily though, once Malfoy had merely shook his head and seemingly grown bored, possibly wondering why he’d even asked in the first place, then grinned, “I’m Pansy, by the way. Heiress to the Parkinson Family of the Sacred Twenty-eight.”

If she’d been going for sweet or charmed, Harry was sure she’d shot straight past it, her eyes were far too observant to falsify any real warmth. He also wanted to wretch at all the ever so formal introductions, first names would have done him perfectly fine, but these were purebloods and he would make the founders proud. He’d been raised right. He had manners. Somewhere deep down.

“Nice to meet you all.” He managed, memorising the names for later use when he could take another glance at the notebook Theo had gifted him.

It was then that a booming voice erupted throughout the hall, silencing all four houses.

And there, at the very centre, the great and powerful Albus Dumbledore stood. Greying and in the most garish of robes.

Harry quite literally gawped at the sight of them and earned quite the deserving kick to the ankle from Theo, which had him clicking his jaw tightly shut again.

“Are those real?”

Theo raised a brow in answer.

“His robes- they’re bright yellow, Theo!” Harry murmured in real astoundment, unable to look away from the sight the headmaster made- was it a statement, or was he losing that last marble he had wobbling around in that head of his? 

A soft snort sounded beside him, then a whisper, “You never get used to it.”

Harry blinked, attempting to see past the soreful colour. Because it wasn’t even a nice yellow! A sunset yellow he could deal with, a mustard maybe! But, he couldn't even begin to describe this particular yellow.

“Welcome!” The man said, “Welcome to a new year at Hogwarts! Before we begin, I would like to give a surprised hello to our newest student,” he pivoted in his stance, aged eyes immediately finding Harry’s own with a careless urgency, “Harry. It has been a long time coming, though I, alongside the rest of the students and staff, are pleased to finally welcome you into the castle. And what an introduction you have made.” 

He held Harry’s gaze long enough for the boy to feel a slight probing at the forefront of his mind, and so, as planned, Harry pulled up a flash of memories to give to him- a scene or two of the life Merlin had shown him with the Dursleys, a second with him running through a stream of village meadows as a child, of the Leaky Cauldron and the rocking Knight Bus, the real surprise he’d felt walking within Diagon Alley that first day, and careful snippets of the train ride over. Then, in feigned embarrassment, he looked away and downwards, snapping his mind shut again.

Albus Dumbledore was beaming out amongst the rest of the hall when Harry chanced a glance back up, arms stretched out wide in welcome as if he hadn't just intruded on a single student’s mind, beaming like nothing pleased him more than to finally know what he’d once not. 

Harry hid his grimace well, slightly nauseous at the severity of the violation, as well as the remnants of emotion that the headmaster had left behind, both his glee and obvious displeasure at having Harry so near. The latter, he reasoned, was mostly down to his sorting and Old Albus having missed out on being involved in his arrival into the Wizarding World. But there’d been suspicion there too- which was also an odd emotion he had to wash off the edges of his mind clean of- though Harry could see why. After all these years, he must have had the headmaster reeling.

“So with that said, here is to another year at Hogwarts! Flub! Argle! Kerfuffle! Fardel!” The man boomed with a serene smile, “Thank you!”

The headmaster retook his seat whilst everybody clapped and cheered. Harry didn’t know whether or not to laugh himself silly. Instead, he simply turned back to the table.

“Is he- ill?”

Parkinson snorted in quite the ugly manner at his question, but it was Fawley who answered. “The Great Albus Dumbledore, ill? Yes. And incredibly so. Mind beyond twisted after all the do-good he’s done for the world that he has to wear a rather large nappy under those frilly robes of his. Sad, really.”

It was said so pointedly and without an ounce of mirth that had Harry not been raised by the master of mordacity he might’ve believed the boy. So he just hummed, nodding his head as an ungodly amount of food appeared on the table between them. “Hm, reckon that’s why they’re so frightening, all that colour just to distract from the bulging around his hips. He’s rather a slender man, is he not? I figured he’d be much more grand in appearance, at least from all I’ve heard.”

Theo pursed his lips to keep himself from grinning, Harry noticed, whilst the rest of the surrounding Slytherin’s struggled to keep composed. Most, if not all, of them bewildered by his comment.

“Potatoes, Harry?”

Harry smiled as he took a helping from the bowl Theo had tugged closer, willing himself not to marvel at the onslaught of food. The amount was just excessive, and thoughts of it going to waste plagued his mind as he dug in. Back home even wizards had struggled with supplying enough food to feed everyone with, the winter months being especially hard that the castle opened itself up to all families- just a look at all of this would have them gasping.

The feast, Harry acknowledged, was a somewhat quiet affair. At the Slytherin table, at least. But he also figured that was mostly down to his being in attendance. The students in green were wary, that much was obvious, but also brimming with questions only so few would dare open with. The Boy Who Lived, seated with the so-called slippery serpents. Who’d have thought?

Well, Sal aside. And perhaps Merlin, too.

Oh, and what would Sirius make of it! Harry suddenly thought and smiled to himself at the picture his mind conjured up of a rather dishevelled Sirius stressing over the letter he’d soon send.

“So you know Nott then.”

It was not so much a question than it was a statement that pulled Harry from his inner musings. But it was just like a Slytherin to start digging for answers in the most cutthroat way. 

“How’d you figure?”

It was Zabini that had prompted the topic, and so in reply to Harry he just shrugged languidly, a movement that looked quite elegant on the boy.

“The way you are.” He said, then smirked, “As well as the fact that Theo hardly says two words to any of us, but he’s been giving you actual full sentences.” 

“Hilarious, Blaise.” Theo retorted, eyes sharp once more. “But did you ever stop to think that I might talk plenty, just not amongst the likes of you?”

“Oh, we’re really going for blows here, Theodore! You must really like him then.” Blaise grinned, flashing a set of impossibly white teeth as he gazed across at the pair of them.

“Sounding awfully jealous there, B.” Fawley commented before he swiped a tongue across his lower lip. “Careful, we might find that you do have feelings after all.”

Zabini merely winked.

“But really, how did you two meet?” Daphne piped up, keen eyes trained on the little space between both Harry and Theo. Malfoy hummed his vague assent to the question before he tacked on, “You seem to make quite the odd pairing.”

“As opposed to what- you and your lackeys? Speaking of, where are the Tweedle Twins, Draco?” Theo snipped, but all he was met with was a dumbfounded expression.

“Who?”

Theo rolled his eyes and refused to grant him an answer, though Daphne did no such thing, “They’re from a muggle fable.”

Upon seeing Malfoy’s immediate disgust at the mention of something muggle, Harry saw Theo’s hand twitch ever so slightly between them, before he heard the boy correct, “Actually it started as an epigram satirising a feud between two famous composers. It dates back centuries.”

“Even so, why are you reading such rubbish, Nott?” Malfoy spat back, elbows pressing against the table now as he leant in closer.

“Mind your manners there, Malfoy.” And at Draco’s sudden turn of glower, Harry lifted a brow over at him, “Elbows.”

Blaise shot forward to glance down at the blond, then laughed merrily. “What would Lady Narcissa say, Draco! She’d be in utter scandal! Quick Asher, inform the press of the evident mishap amongst the Welcoming Feast. Slytherin’s across the world will be in for an outright shock, I suppose Old Salazar will even turn in his grave!”

Harry stilled ever so slightly in his own amusement at that last phrase, but only Theo seemed to catch it, casting him an odd glance. Harry shook his head minutely.

“Piss off, Blaise.”

“Oh, come now, Draco.” Asher Fawley drawled, though his smirk was all too enchanting even as he draped himself over the table, displaying his evident miscare for table manners. “Surely even you can take a joke.”

“No, he’s just pissed off that he’s not the current centre of attention.” Theo threw his hat in and was awarded with a squawk of laughter from Zabini, and the chuckles of both Daphne and Fawley.

“Oh, Theo! I love the effect Potter’s having on you! We really should keep him.” Blaise smiled, obviously happy with how the unexpected appearance of Harry Potter at the Slytherin table was now going down.

“Opposed to what, dear? Chucking him out and leaving him to Dumbledore and his merry army?” Theo answered, smirking before he sipped lightly at his coloured juice.

“You wouldn’t.” Harry exaggerated, turning to Theo now with wide eyes. The other boy merely rolled his own, that smile of his growing more sincere as he knocked shoulders with Harry.

The feast continued on in a similar fashion after that, though Harry kept a keen eye on the rest of the room, the other houses and the staff table alike. It seemed he already had more than a couple gazes set on him, a few of which didn’t appear to have the best of intentions.

By the time the feast ended, Harry found himself sticking rather close to Theo’s side, not that the other boy complained much, simply slowed his gait enough so that the pair of them could trail after the older Slytherins.

“You sure you wouldn’t be better off joining the First Years, Potter?” Theo jeered as they walked the Grand Staircase, Harry noting every picture frame they passed in the hopes that he might see a familiar face.

“Are we really sticking with Potter then?” He heard himself ask, not really paying much mind to the main part of Theo’s sentence.

“That’s your name. Or did you actually prefer The Boy with No Name?”

Harry rolled his eyes, not unkindly, before he turned back towards him. “It does have a certain ring to it.” He smiled, then said, “But I’d prefer it if you called me Harry.”

Theo arched a single brow.

“Alright.”

And that was that.