{A/N: Well gosh you guys. It's been two freakin years. Terribly sorry. I hope to get on with it with more focus, but honestly my track record is terrible. I can only hope that you'll enjoy this next chapter.}

Chapter Two

Harry tried to keep himself calm and collected as Ron gave Hermione a skeptical look.

"No, no toad's been in here," he said around a mouthful of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor beans. Hermione looked disgusted that he hadn't swallowed his candy before talking directly to her.

"No manners either, apparently," she said to his face. "By the way, you've got some dirt on your nose, just there." She pointed to her own nose, then looked Harry's way.

"I know who you are," a smile and slight pink flush alighting her face all at once. "You're Harry Potter, famous Boy who Lived."

Harry was, at the moment, filled with enormous affection for his best friends, and seeing their newborn animosity was hilarious to watch firsthand now that he knew how they'd end up.

As long as I can keep Ron from making stupid mistakes with her this time, maybe they'll fall in love even sooner, he thought distractedly. Ron kicked his shin from across the seat.

"Ow!"

"You're staring at her," Ron stage whispered. Harry shook his head, as if coming out of a daze.

"Oh, oh, sorry," he said, feeling a flush of preteen embarrassment hot under his collar. A huge grin grew on Ron's freckled face, and Hermione looked politely shy.

"I think he fancies you, eh, what's your name loud girl?" asked Ron rather cheekily. Hermione's face went a brilliant shade of red.

"Hermione Granger, if you must know, rude boy," she shot back. Even when she was embarrassed she had a quick retort. Ron stuck out his tongue.

"Why don't you go off and find your other boyfriend's toad. Neville, was it?" snarked Ron. Hermione glared at him, a look on her face that could have killed Ron had Avada Kadavra been known to her, and stomped away from their compartment. Ron laughed.

"Silly girls, always thinking they need the last word," he leaned back against the seat and shoved some licorice wands into his cheek. "My sister Ginny's the same way. You just never give up and soon they'll leave you alone." He nodded self-satisfied and Harry struggled to keep his face straight. Ron was terrifically ridiculous at age 11.

He continued, "Whatever house she ends up in, I hope I'm not in it. She seems like a terrible know-it-all. Imagine having to live with that nightmare."

Harry felt like he needed to defend his other best friend. "I dunno, she's all right," he said, shrugging, trying to get Ron to ease up.

"You do fancy her!" snorted Ron.

Harry turned brilliantly red. "I do not. Anyways, what's this about houses?" he asked quickly, trying to get Ron onto a different subject.

Ron popped a chocolate frog into his mouth, then proceeded to explain the Hogwarts houses in a very dramatic rendition, making Hufflepuffs all sound completely dunderheaded, Ravenclaws incredibly smart and snobby, and Slitherins evil incarnate, saving the praise of Gryffindor for last.

"My whole family's been in Gryffindor," he said proudly, puffing out his chest. "Parents met there, and all my older brothers have been in since. I don't suppose being put in Ravenclaw would be too bad, but honestly, if I got Slytherin, I'd move straight back home and practice Quidditch until I could train for the Chudley Cannons."

Harry was eager to discuss Quidditch with Ron, but swiftly remembered he wasn't supposed to know what it was and the result was him biting his tongue and then asking breathlessly from the temporary pain on his tongue, "What's Quidditch?"

"Oh wow, are you in for a treat, Harry. Imagine not knowing about Quidditch!" and Ron launched into one of the best explanations that was actually probably the most confusing and worst explanations, but was only made great by the fact that it was Ron, who used licorice wands and every flavor beans on the seat beside him to show Harry diagrams to explain players and balls and such.

At the end of it, Harry was so excited, he couldn't hold it in. "I can't wait to get on a broomstick and try it!"

Ron grinned and nodded. "Course you are, mate! Best sport there is. Infinitely better choice than being stuck as a Slytherin for seven years of your life."

Harry frowned and sat back, his excitement waning. "What's so bad about Slytherin, eh?"

"Oh right, I keep forgetting you were raised by Muggles." Ron leaned forward conspiratorially. "Slytherin is the house You-Know-Who came from."

"You mean Voldemort, right?" corrected Harry. Ron went white in the face, shock widening his brown eyes as his eyebrows threatened to disappear into his hair.

"Are you mental? Don't say his bloody name!" Ron scolded.

"Oh, sorry, sorry," Harry amended. Ron let out a sigh of frustration and relief, slumping against the seat.

"Give me a heart attack, why don't you? Merlin…" Ron pulled out his wand and fidgeted with it. It was well-worn, chipped with unicorn hair beginning to show at the tip, and Harry remembered this was Ron's hand-me-down wand from his older brother Charlie.

A lump in Ron's jumper began to stir, and he brightened a little.

"Hey, would you like to see some magic?" he asked, half a smile appearing on his face. "Fred and George taught it to me during summer holiday."

Harry nodded, pushing his classes back up the bridge of his nose. "Yeah, please." Ron pulled out the creature behind the lump, and Harry felt his heart grow chill as his parents' murderer was pulled reluctantly out of the jumper.

Peter Pettigrew, in all his rat glory, looked very sleepy and dull. Ron cleared his throat and swallowed any remaining candy, then tapped Peter gently.

"Sunshine, daisies, butter mellow, turn this stupid fat rat yellow!" Ron said loudly, waving the wand over him.

"Good Lord, was that supposed to be magic?" said a new voice from the door of the compartment. Harry's eyes shot to the doorway, where Draco Malfoy stood in elegant black robes, the Hogwarts crest emblazoned boldly on his chest. His white blond hair was slicked back and in his cold eyes gleamed hesitancy.

"Maybe!" shot Ron defensively, tucking the rat back into his pocket. "Who are you supposed to be?"

Draco stifled a haughty laugh, rolling his eyes. "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. No need to introduce yourself, my father taught me how to spot a Weasley a mile away. Hand-me-down robes and orange hair."

Harry's heart lept inside him as confusing emotions fought in his chest. At once he was excited and infuriated to see Draco, remembering what an absolute tosser Malfoy had been their entire school lives, but also remembering what Draco had become as an adult. Harry wanted to give him a chance. He hoped he could turn the tide of time. It was good that Crabbe and Goyle were nowhere in sight, although Harry did wonder where they were.

"Harry Potter," said Harry, standing up and reaching forward to shake Draco's hand to keep Ron from getting up and strangling him. Ron was struggling with shame and fury on his freckled face. Draco studied Harry coolly, finally taking his hand and giving it a reluctant shake.

"I know who you are, Potter," he drawled, not unkindly, taking his hand back and withdrawing it into his robes. "That's why I'm here, you see. I wanted to see for myself The Boy Who Lived. See if I could help him make friends…" he paused and looked dismissively at Ron, "with the right sort of wizarding families."

"So you're offering us your friendship?" asked Harry casually, making sure Draco understood he meant Ron included.

Draco looked a little startled out of his lazy cruelty. "I'm-excuse me-what?"

"I mean, that's what you're here for? To be my friend?" Harry said, pursuing this line of thinking quickly. "Because I do need friends. I've been raised by Muggles my whole life and friends like you and Ron could really help me go far in the Wizarding World."

Draco tried not to snort. "I beg your pardon, you think I want to be friends with a Weasley? You really don't know anything, do you?" He gave Harry a look that clearly said he thought Harry was an idiot.

"How could I know anything? I just said I was raised by Muggles," said Harry, feeling amused and trying not to look too smug. "Yes, Malfoy, I'll be your friend. But, you have to be Ron's friend too."

"I'll not be friends with that blood-traitor!" Draco raised his voice.

"I will never be friends with a pureblood who thinks they're better than everyone else!" shouted Ron at the same time.

They both seethed, brown eyes and ice grey eyes glaring Crucio's at one another.

"I'll give you time to think it over," said Harry diplomatically, sitting back down on his seat across from Ron, watching Draco thoughtfully. "I'd like to be your friend."

Draco rolled his eyes and left the doorway of the compartment, stomping off to wherever he thought would be better suited for his pureblood tastes, and Ron let out an enormous heaving sigh as he swore.

"Harry, I hope you weren't serious! Malfoy's dad was a huge supporter of You-Know-Who! He's your enemy! Mine too!"

"What's pureblood?" asked Harry as innocently as he could.

Ron snorted derisively. "It's what old wizarding families call themselves, because they only marry other wizards born from wizards. It's idiotic, really, because their families are dying out, and everybody knows that magic can be within Muggles too. That's why there's Muggleborn."

"Why did he call you a blood-traitor?"

Ron's ears were a fierce red. "Because although my family comes from pure wizarding lines, we support treating Muggles as equals. My father works in the Ministry for Magic in the Muggle Department, helping them out whenever they come across magic. It's...long and complicated. But the short of it is, Malfoy's dad works at the Ministry too, and he always has a go at my dad for what he does." Ron was seething. Harry nodded sympathetically.

"I understand. I'm...I'm sorry for trying to force you two to be friends. But...but maybe Draco isn't as bad as his father?"

Ron growled at him. "Doubt it. He talks just like him, apparently. I have no interest being friends with that git."

Hp hp hp hp hp

Apart from a visit from a tearful Neville still looking for his toad (Harry made sure to be sympathetic with Neville, kindly trying to cheer him up and assuring him that he had new friends to help him find Trevor), accompanied by Hermione who admonished them to change into school robes (while struggling not to go pink-cheeked in front of Harry), the rest of the train ride was uneventful. Ron helped Harry stuff the remainder of their snacks into their pockets after they had changed into their school robes.

"Really, I don't need them…" Ron tried weakly to keep Harry from foisting off all his tasty treats. Harry just chuckled.

"It's all right, Ron. You're my friend now. I'm sure I'll need help or something from you sooner or later, then you can pay me back," said Harry encouragingly, trying to keep Ron from feeling embarrassed. He remembered Ron's sore spot of feeling incredibly poor and coming from a family who wasn't exactly well-off.

They heard a voice over a magical intercom echo throughout the train, "We will be arriving at Hogsmeade Station in five minutes! Students will please leave their luggage on the train, it will be taken up to the school separately!"

"FIRS' YEARS, OVER THIS WAY, NOW THA'S IT! FIRS' YEARS!" called Hagrid's voice as they stepped off the train onto the platform outside. Harry grinned. The night air was cold, sending gooseflesh pricking up on Harry's arms and neck. He shivered as Hagrid came into view with lantern, towering over all the 11 year olds. His big hairy face beamed when he saw Harry.

"All righ' there, Harry? Firs' years, follow me!" The crowd of first years complied, following Hagrid from the platform down to a steep, narrow path, which most of them slipped and slid down, trying not to knock each other over and failing. Neville kept grabbing at Harry's robe sleeve, making Harry very nervous that he'd get them both knocked over.

"It's all right, Neville," he said bracingly when the round-faced boy had fallen on his bum and brought Harry painfully down to one knee.

"I'm so sorry, I'm sorry Harry," Neville looked pale.

"No worries," assured Harry. "Come on, up you get." He helped Neville up, his own knee giving him a slow, painful throb. He could hear other first years behind them sniggering and knew from alternate experience that one of them was definitely Malfoy.

The steep and narrow path continued down what Harry could only guess was some kind of basin, thick wooded trees on either side of the path that made everything dark and quiet. Everyone kept fairly quiet aside from murmurs and fearful whisperings.

"'Bout to git yer first look at Hogwarts here in a sec," said Hagrid over his shoulder, in a volume much louder than any of them had been using, frightening a poor girl into jumping into her neighbor. "Jus' round this bend!" He led them skillfully around the aforementioned bend, where the path widened and exposed the edge of a vast black lake, the moon shining off of its surface in soft, mild ripples.

There was a collective "Ooooooohh!" from the first years. Even Malfoy couldn't pretend not to be in awe or excitement, though he kept it held in better than others. One of the girls in their group squealed. On the other side of the lake was a large mountain that rose into the sky, and perched atop it was a magnificent castle, lights gleaming from windows in turrets and main body alike, towers pointing up into the starry sky in majesty. Harry had to admit, it was a beautiful, breathtaking sight.

By the shore before them was a small fleet of rowboats.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called out, reaching the boats and climbing into one as he waited for the first years to follow. Harry and Ron climbed into one next to his, and Hermione and Neville clambered in after them, Ron heaving a sigh of irritation.

"Everyone in?" Hagrid called out, looking around to make sure nobody was left on the shore. "Righ' then! FORWARD!" he called out, and the fleet to begin sailing magically across the lake, which had calmed to the state of smooth glass, the reflection of the moon and the castle before them.

"Can you believe how beautiful this is? I mean, absolutely gorgeous…" murmured Hermione behind Harry. He smiled. Ron snorted.

"It is kinda nice," muttered Neville. "You don't think anything...lives in the lake, do you?" His teeth began to chatter, but from the night air or fear, Harry could only guess.

"It's possible, I suppose," said Harry, leaning over the side of the boat to look into the water, but it rocked them dangerously and Ron grabbed the back of his robes.

"Harry, get off it! Are you trying to tip us over?"

Harry smiled sheepishly and shrugged. "Sorry, Ron."

Ron sighed. "Mental, I tell you…"

The castle loomed over them on its severe cliff, and Hagrid shouted at the lot of them to duck down as they approached it, the boats carrying them through a veil of ivy that hid a wide opening in the face of the cliff that led into a dark tunnel. Whispered voices echoed off the stone walls, making everything seem a little more eerie, but just as Harry felt they must be right underneath the castle, they reached the underground harbor, where the boats docked themselves up onto a rocky shore and everyone climbed out of their boats a little clumsily.

Hagrid walked around to check the boats, helping kids out who seemed wobbly, and making sure nothing got left behind. He caught something in his large hands and called out, "Oi! Whose toad is this?"

"Trevor!" called out Neville, rushing up to Hagrid with hands outstretched. Hagrid gave him a dubious look before handing over the amphibian, but gave no comment, just nodding when Neville thanked him.

"All righ' firs' years, keep followin'!" he called over his shoulder, leading them up a passageway in the rock, emerging out onto smooth grass damp with nighttime dew in the castle's shadows. They walked up a flight of stone steps at the front of the castle, standing before the huge oak door. Hagrid turned around.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?" Neville nodded sheepishly, chubby hands clamped tightly around Trevor. "Good!" He raised a giant hand and curled it into a fist, knocking on the great wooden door, which opened immediately. McGonagall stood there in all her severity, emerald robes gleaming in lantern-light.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid said, inclining his shaggy head. She nodded to him.

"Thank you Hagrid. I will take them from here." At this she cast her eyes about on the 11 year old children, eyeing the ones who looked more like trouble-makers for a long moment before turning on her heel. She pulled the door wide to reveal a huge Entrance Hall so large it could have fit the entire Dursley's house inside of it. Flaming torches lit the stony walls, not quite lighting up the high ceiling above, and facing them was a large marble staircase that led to the upper floors of the castle.

Harry felt gooseflesh rise up again, but this time it was in awe of the grandeur and the lovely feeling of familiarity inside of him. He was home.

From a large doorway to the right came the buzz of voices, hundreds of voices, which Harry knew meant the rest of the school, from second to seventh years, were all waiting inside the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast, waiting on the little first years to come and be sorted. But McGonagall herded the first years to their left, into an empty chamber, where everyone crowded closer together, breaths bated.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall, eyeing them all from behind her square-rimmed glasses. "The start-of-term banquet will start in a few moments, but before you take a seat in the Great Hall, you will each need to be sorted into a house. The Sorting is very important, you see, because your house will become something of a family for you during your education here over the next seven years of your young lives. You will be spending free time in your house common rooms, taking classes with your housemates, and sleeping in the house dormitories.

"For those unaware, the four houses are named thus: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. They are named for the four founders of Hogwarts, and each house has an important role to fill for our school. Each house has its own noble history and has produced many great witches and wizards. During your stay here, any triumphs you have will award you house points, and any rule-breaking will make you lose house points. House points are significant because at the end of the year, the house with the most points will win the House Cup, a great honor indeed.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place, as I said, in a few moments before the rest of the school. I hope each one of you will be a credit to the house you are sorted into." She paused to look over the first years. "I do suggest some of you smarten up while you are waiting. I will be back to collect you all." She turned and swept out of the door gracefully, leaving the first years to subconsciously huddle together further, each one (except Harry) feeling nervous or anxious. Malfoy smirked at some of his scared schoolmates, but inside he was also feeling slight trepidation.

Harry turned to his new friends. "C'mere," he said kindly to Neville, helping him fix his cloak which was fastened under his left ear. He wished he could use a washing up charm on Ron's face to help him get rid of that dirt smudge on his nose, but instead said, "Hey, your nose?" in as friendly a voice as he could, pointing to his own nose in reference. Ron hurriedly scrubbed at his face with the sleeve of his robes.

"You're a very nice person, harry, did you know that?" said Hermione in a soft awed voice.

"Aw, well, after being treated like garbage by my relatives, I don't want to do the same to other people," Harry tried to shrug it off.

"Bad relatives? I have some of those," remarked Draco, buffing his nails on his robes and trying to seem careless. "My aunt Andromeda went off and married a Muggle." He snorted. "Ridiculous." Hermione shrank back a little from Malfoy, a look of worry crossing her face. Harry felt indignance rise up in him.

"You know, my friend Hermione here is Muggleborn. So if you want to be my friend, Malfoy, you had better watch your mouth," he said sternly, feeling like he was his 35-year-old self lecturing James all over again.

Before Malfoy could retort, a sneer on his young pale face, Professor McGonagall returned.

"Form a line now, and follow me," she instructed, not waiting for them to figure it out amongst themselves. She led them out into the hall where they crossed over to the large double doors of the Great Hall. The sight of thousands of lit candles floating overhead, the four, long house tables with all of the rest of the older years of students where glittering golden plates and goblets sat empty, the long table at the top of the Hall where the teachers sat, it all filled Harry with nostalgia that brought tears to his eyes.

He heard Hermione whisper behind him to Neville, "The ceiling is enchanted to look like the sky outside! I read about it in Hogwarts, A History!" He smiled to himself, moving his glasses to wipe at his eyes.

"You okay there, Harry?" whispered Ron, thinking Harry was actually crying.

"Yeah, fine, thanks," smiled Harry.

At the top of the hall, in front of the teacher's table, McGonagall set out a four legged stool and placed the patched, frayed, and very dusty Sorting Hat onto its seat.

"I'm going to kill Fred and George," whispered Ron vehemently. "They were going on about having to fight a troll!" Harry stifled a laugh.

The Sorting Hat twitched as a rip opened near its brim, and it went on to sing a rather long song about the history of the school's four founders and the traits of each house. Gryffindor was for the brave, Ravenclaw for the brilliant, Hufflepuff for the loyal, and Slytherin for those with cunning. When it finished, the entire school applauded and Professor McGonagall stepped forward with a long parchment.

"When I call your name, please come forward. You will sit on the stool and put on the hat to be Sorted!" And thus the Sorting began. Harry let his mind wander during this part, trying to think about how he would get to the Philosopher's Stone before end of year, what he could do to trap Quirrell or convince Dumbledore that Voldemort was sharing Quirrell's body and living on the back of his head. There must be a way...and he went on planning and thinking very hard when he felt Ron nudge him hard in the ribs.

"Go on!"

"Sorry, what?" Harry shook himself. McGonagall was staring sternly down at him and he let out an audible, "oh!" and rushed up to the stool, clambering on it awkwardly as Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head. It fell down over his eyes and he could smell the musty insides.

"Oh hello! What have we here? An already sorted Gryffindor? But wait, no, there's a thirst here to prove yourself, and bravery too...but this has happened before, hasn't it. I've sorted you before, child."

I know, thought Harry desperately. But time has rewound itself. Please, treat me as a new student.

"You chose your house the first time. Shall we do that again?" the small voice of the hat asked quietly into his ear. "Would you prefer Gryffindor?" Harry squeezed his eyes very tight, thinking his mantra over and over again, hoping the hat would listen to him.

"Very well," the hat said as though it could shrug. "Have it your way, Potter." And then very audibly it shouted,

"SLYTHERIN!"

The school gasped.

Hp hp hp hp hp

Draco smirked at him all the way down to the dungeons after the banquet.

"My my," he laughed as they descended a dark staircase with lit sconces. "Who knew the Boy Who Lived would become a member of the Dark Lord's house? I think that's pretty funny, don't you?"

Harry rolled his eyes, ignoring the bits about Voldemort. Their female house Prefect led them further down another passageway that smelled cold and slightly dusty, her green and silver Prefect badge gleaming in lantern light on the front of her robes next to the House Crest of Slytherin. Their male prefect paced behind the group, a cold look on his impassive fifth-year features. In order for Harry's plans to work, he needed to operate from Slytherin this time, although he was already feeling very sad and heavy from making the choice. Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville...all now in the warm Gryffindor Common room, hanging out together, without him. He shuddered.

"I guess we can be friends now, Potter," Malfoy conceded lazily. "Now that I know you can be trusted. We Slytherins may not have the best reputation of the four houses, but this is the truly great house. Snakes for life." He stopped talking as the Slytherin Prefect stopped before a blank section of stone wall.

"The password for now is 'sacer sanguis'," she said, her raven-black hair emitting a blue sheen under the lantern she carried. The wall opened before them, showing a dungeon-like room with greenish lamps and chairs. Some far windows on the opposite side were pitch black. Noticing Harry's stare, the Prefect explained,

"Our common room extends partway under the lake. You can see the great squid sometimes during the day, as well as other creatures who live there. It lends our common room the proper green ambiance." She smirked at the first year Slytherin's awed faces. Harry admired the many low backed black and dark green button-tufted leather sofas that furnished the room. Around the walls hung tapestries of famous Medieval Slytherins, most prominently, the great wizard Merlin himself.

Although the whole place was impressive, its atmosphere was a cold one, completely unlike the warm comfort of the reds and golds of Gryffindor's tower. Harry felt glum again.

"All right, you lot, listen up," said their Prefect sharply. Their attentions all snapped back to her immediately. "Boys' dormitories are off to the left over there," she said, pointing to a doorway on the left of the common room, "girls' are on the right. Boys, you can't get into the girls' dorm, so don't even try." She smirked again. Perpetual smirker, huh, thought Harry, keeping himself from rolling his eyes.

"The password to our common room changes every fortnight, and the new one will be posted on the noticeboard," she said, pointing to the aforementioned noticeboard behind her near the hidden exit. "I warn you all, traitors will not be looked kindly upon in Slytherin. None of you is to ever divulge the password to any students outside Slytherin. Ours is the only house never to have had an outsider in more than seven centuries, and we are going to keep it that way." She glared around at them. "Is that understood?" The Slytherin first years all nodded wordlessly.

"Now, our Head of House is Professor Snape. He is the Potions Master at Hogwarts, and one of the most talented, if not the most talented teachers at this school. If you have any concerns that go beyond my ability to help, his office door is always open. Well, not always. Sometimes." She shrugged. "He's very busy and has a lot on his plate, so you know, outside class, try not to bother him. Bring your concerns to me or our other house Prefect." She nodded to the sullen silent other fifth-year, Galen Mugraff, who had remained quiet the entire time. "I'm Abela Hent. Mugraff here doesn't do much, but if you feel he's more approachable than me, I dare you to try." She let a mean, toothy grin shine down upon them.

"Well, it's bedtime, little snakes, so off you get. You'll find your luggage and things have been brought to your dorms already." It seemed Abela had finished just in time, as a stream of older Slytherins began pouring into the common room.

"Come on, Potter, let's go see what the dorm room looks like," said Draco, actually sounding more excited than haughty. It was a tone Harry had never heard in his once-arch-enemy's voice, and it gave Harry hope.

The dorm room door opened into a dungeon hallway, dark and cold with green-lit sconces on the walls every few feet opposite doors on either side.

"Which one is ours?" asked Harry dubiously and Draco shrugged. Harry let out a nervous breath and decided to try his luck at the first door on the left, twisting the snake-like silver handle on the door. It opened at once to show a round room hosting six four-poster beds with green and silver hangings. Harry saw his trunk and hurried over to his four-poster, pushing the hangings open to see Hedwig in her cage, her head tucked under her wing.

"Huh, nice guess, Potter," said Draco smugly as four more boys traipsed into the room. "Crabbe, Goyle," nodded Draco to each of them. They nodded back.

A tall, black boy with a calm demeanor shook Harry's hand. "Blaise Zabini."

"Harry Potter," said Harry. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"I know who you are, everyone does," Blaise said, finding his trunk at the bed off to the left of Harry's.

"Yeah, that's one thing you don't have to worry about," said a pale boy with brown hair and pale blue eyes. "Everyone's going to know who you are, Potter." Harry looked quizzically over at him. "I'm Theodore Nott," the boy said quietly, taking his bed on the other side of Blaise's. Crabbe and Goyle wordlessly worked around their beds, mostly shedding shoes and socks.

Draco's bed was to the right of Harry's and he shook his head at Crabbe and Goyle who had just bent over at the same time and knocked heads.

"Wow." He looked affronted that he even shared a room with two idiots like that, but of course, they were totally oblivious to his undisguised dislike of them.

"So, Potter," said Blaise, his trunk open as he pulled out some silky black pajamas with the letters BZ embroidered in green on the front breast pocket. He began to change out of his robes and clothes underneath. "You must be a pureblood since you're in Slytherin."

Everyone in the room stopped to stare at Harry, watching him carefully.

"Uh, yeah, I guess so. I never knew my parents since they were...you know...offed by the Dark Lord himself." The air grew thick with awkwardness.

"Yeah, about that, Potter," said Draco thoughtfully, tapping his chin. "Your parents were part of the people who opposed the Dark Lord, weren't they? I mean, that's why they were killed, wasn't it?"

Harry felt a seething anger rise up inside him, but he bit his tongue and nodded instead. You're making this real tough, Draco, he thought angrily.

"I suppose so. My Muggle aunt and uncle never told me about my parents because they hate and fear wizards, so I don't know anything about them. All I know is that Vol-the Dark Lord killed them with his own wand. I was too little at the time and don't really remember it." Harry was quiet for a moment, shrugging off his own robe and setting it on his bed before opening the trunk at the foot of the four-poster. He pulled out some ratty, overlarge striped pajamas of his own and got dressed quietly.

Draco sat silently on his bed, watching Harry. "That's unfortunate," he murmured, the smirk gone from his face. Though he would never admit it, he loved his mother with all his heart and admired his father greatly. Would he be so interested in the Dark Lord if he had murdered his parents? Doubtful. He wondered if Harry would ever be interested in learning more about who Lord Voldemort had been, but doubted it. Lucius Malfoy spoke of Lord Voldemort with great reverence in his own mansion, but forbade such talk outside of it. After all, he had an image to maintain within the Ministry, and supporters and sympathizers of the Dark Lord ended up in Azkaban with a life sentence. The story that Lucius and Narcissa had been Imperius Cursed to follow the Dark Lord was a story that must be maintained, Mr Malfoy always stressed to Draco.

"One day he will return, and we will be ready and waiting for him, Draco. But until he does, we must hide and lie in wait, using our cunning to serve him in his absence." Draco took his father's advice to heart.

"Stupid of the house-elves to bring your owl down into the dungeons. Not like you can let her out a window, can you?" said Draco haughtily, remembering his own stupid house-elf at home.

Harry looked up, "Wha- oh yeah," he conceded. "Well she's asleep, I'll take her upstairs with me tomorrow and let her out." He gently set her cage on his now-closed trunk, careful not to disturb her.

Draco changed into his silver silk pajamas as Harry pulled back the covers and climbed into bed. Crabbe and Goyle were both asleep now, each one snoring and snorting in turn. Blaise had stuffed earplugs in and was resting on his back, a peaceful look on his face. Theodore buried his head under his pillow, grumbling about the snoring.

"See you in the morning, Potter," said Draco. Harry nodded,

"Yeah, see you," and he pulled his bed hangings closed.