So... Had this sitting in my drafts for a couple of months... I got tired of seeing it but didn't yet want to delete it. So here it is ^_^. Ha... haha... ha...

Curse me and my need for experimentation. Also got some surprises for ya'll.

"Get out of my way, Walker."

"Tom...you don't need to do this. You don't need to do any of this."

"My name is Voldemort. And if you don't get out of my way, I'll kill you."

"I refuse."

"Very well. Goodbye, Professor."

"Allen!"

Meredith was a beautiful woman. Anyone could attest to that. Her dark locks curled down her back with some bangs framing her porcelain face. Her irises were a warm chocolate brown that, currently, was filled with exhaustion.

Yes, beautiful indeed. It was a wonder as to why she was even a nun that ran an exclusive orphanage in London. Perhaps it's because she loves children. And, of course, her religion. But right now, what she would really love...

Is some sleep.

With a sigh parting from her lips, Meredith set her pen down on the desk and sat back in her chair. A simple lamplight was all that could illuminate her study. A lamplight and, of course, the light of the full moon.

October was abnormally chilly this time of year...

A loud series of knocks interrupted the young woman from her thoughts. Wondering who else besides herself would be up this late, Meredith got out of her seat, straightened her night gown, and made her way into the halls. St. Vincent's Orphanage was made long ago in the Victorian Era and the walls of the building certainly broadcasted that knowledge. The old wallpaper had been carefully taken care of throughout the ages, replaced with careful hands should it tear.

The knocks persisted once more. It only grew silent when she approached the dark, heavy double doors and pulled one open with some effort. She wasn't quite sure what she was expecting outside the door. A person, perhaps. Someone who had more bills for the Orphanage that they just so happened to hand out in the midst of the night. Meredith should have expected something more average. A little less original.

Like a small baby, one or two years of age perhaps, in a basket left sitting on the doorstep.

Meredith sighed and knelt in front of the basket to look at the child. She nearly gasp and fell away when she saw what was inside.

St. Vincent's got lots of kids. Some kind, some rude, some strange. This one had to be the strangest by far.

The child, a boy if she had to guess, looked up at her with the most beautiful eyes she's ever seen. A silvery-gray. It didn't seem bothered by the coldness of the air. In fact, it seemed rather peaceful. More often than not, the toddlers they recieved at this time of night would be bawling at the newness of their enviroment. This one looked rather curious. But that's not why she was startled.

This child, this poor, poor boy, had a scar marring the left side of his face. It was an angry red, starting at his forehead with a star beneath his shockingly white hair. A pentagram.

Occultists, she thought, gingerly reaching into the basket. She had heard of such a thing from other orphanages. That children of people who worship the Devil were taken in from their cultist families. It was a rarity. Most are rumoured to either die or grow up worst than the monsters that raised them.

The scar didn't look recent. And the boy himself barely weighed a thing as she picked him up. He was wrapped neatly in a bundle. As though someone had taken great care. The child made a faint noise as Meredith held him close and when he reached with his right arm, the blanket fell away and showed his left.

From the shoulder to the fingertips, the skin was blacker than night. Unnaturally smooth too. Whatever means, the child did not seem to possess the mobility to move it. Was it paralysed? Who on Earth would tattoo the arm of a child? And this green mark on the back of his hand. Is that a cross?

Whoever this boy's family was, they certainly had a conflict of interest on religion.

Wait, there's a note.

Making sure that the child was secured, Meredith knelt down to pick up note that was in the basket. Most times, these were left in an envelope. Perhaps the previous carer knew she would pick up the child first and saved the effort of opening it? Either way, she should probably read.

Miss Meredith McClaine,

I humbly ask that you carefully oversee Allen Walker for the oncoming years. As I'm sure you can tell, he is not an ordinary child. I've been informed that his birthdate is on December 25th.

Sincerely,

Albus Brian Wulfric Percival Dumbledore

"His name's a mouthful, isn't it," Meredith asked, looking down at the child's eyes. Eyes that seemed as if they knew more than a kid his age should. "Come on then. I suppose I should be getting you to bed." She turned towards the door and smiled. "It's rather late for you to still be awake, Allen."

Allen Walker was a strange kid.

Because of the Satanic marking that marred his face, the other nuns around the Orphanage considered Allen to be the Devil's spawn. Meredith, on hand, thought that it was just the opposite. What if he was God's child? He was the sweetest and most polite kid she had ever come to known and she doubted that it came from her and the others raising him. There was also the factor of his paralysed hand, which didn't feel like what one would consider normal skin (it was too smooth. The cross on the back was also another puzzle to add), and the date of his birth. He had to be a Holy Child. The scar on his face was just that, a scar. Perhaps someone thought the same of him and tried to taint him with the Devil's mark. And his hair was as white as snow itself. Pure. If only she knew how a child could have a bundle of scars like the ones that marred his torso.

She stood by the doorway and watched the white-headed eleven-year old put distance between himself from the other children. It was always like this. Try as he might have, the children who had grown up hearing the other nuns comments isolated him.

Meredith frowned as she noticed Amyra giving Allen an evil eye before the nun's eyes caught sight of her Headmistress. Then she made a point to turn away. Meredith rolled her eyes at her fellow friend's actions before focusing on the boy.

"Allen," she called softly, her fingers clutching an envelope in her hand. The snowy-haired boy lifted his head and turned towards her with a carefully expectant expression. This child always surprised her with how much masks he had. With his many smiles that held many meanings. He certaintly hadn't been taught how to wear any of those. "Come over here."

He got up from the small space he was sitting at with a book in hand. Meredith pulled him into the hallway and held out the envelope. It was not a normal one, of that she was sure. This was the first time she had ever come across one that had the exact location of its reciever. And Meredith was talking about bedroom location, bunk number, and the name of the child she was to look after.

"This is for you," she told Allen, holding out the envelope. She hadn't broken the seal on it. The child looked up at her before taking it in his right hand and, with her help, pulled out the thick paper.

Dear Mr. Walker,

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardy. Please find enclosed a list of all neccesary books and equipment.

Term begins on September 1st. We await your owl by no later than July 31st.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Allen lowered the letter and looked over at Meredith with suspicion clouding his shimmery irises. Magic. Of course, it was only fitting that the Child of God would be able to use such a thing.

"Is this real," he asked. Meredith smiled down at him gently.

"If it is, the strange occurances that happen around you would explain it. Here, let me see that list of yours."

Allen wordlessly handed her the envelope. Indeed, there was a list, full of strange things she knew she couldn't get at normal shops. There was also another letter inside addressed to Meredith.

Someone will arrive on July 31st to pick up Allen to get his supplies.

"I guess that settles it." She slipped the letters back into the envelope. "Go back to reading. I'll hold onto these for now."

Allen nodded and went back into the room.

Allen wasn't sure how he should be feeling. Excited, maybe? Nauseous? But he wasn't. Like everything in his life so far, he took everything in with a stride. The nuns calling him a Demon, the kids had their awful pranks. And now, wizards were apparently real.

It seems as though wizards would have the least amount of trouble.

Still, he noticed Meredith's surprise as he waited patiently beside the door with her. Then a knock sounded on the door. A long, heavy knock. She went to go open the door and held her free hand to her mouth as she grew a little more surprised.

"Is Allen here?" a voice asked. Male, by the deep and gruffyness of the tone. Meredith seemed to have regined her composure.

"Yes." She motioned over to Allen, who headed to her side the moment she moved. His eyes widened slightly, just slightly, when he noticed the tall burly man standing in front of the doorframe. And just a bit behind him, peeking curiously into the Orphanage, was a boy about his age with black hair and glasses. "I take it that you are the one who will be watching him?"

"Tha's righ'."

Meredith squared her shoulders and gave the large man what Allen had come to describe as the mother bear glare. Beautiful or not, Meredith looked like a woman to be feared. Even the large man squirmed where he stood beneath her gaze. The boy seemed to look equally as uncomfortable.

"You better take good care of this boy," she ordered, her glare not lightening up. "If he comes back with so much as one scratch, you'll have to answer to me. Is that understood?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good." Meredith turned towards Allen. A small sigh of relief could be heard outside the door. "Now you be a good boy for this man. And stay safe."

Allen nodded and headed out the door. Meredith closed it softly behind him. Now alone with two strangers, Allen looked up at the giant of a man. Then he smiled politely and held out his right hand.

"My name is Allen Walker," he said. "But you already knew that, didn't you?"

The large man seemed to blubber and went about rubbing something from his eyes. "Always so nice ter me." He grabbed Allen's hand, his own grip practically encompassing the entirety of it before he proceeded to shake. "Rubeus Hagrid."

Allen quirked an eyebrow at his comment but eventually shrugged it aside as he released his grip. And there was the boy he had caught a glimpse of behind the door. Messy black hair, green almond-shaped eyes that peered from behind some round-shaped glasses. It had Scotch tape on the bridge of it. And just under his hairline, a scar could be seen. Giving the boy the same smile he had given Mr. Hagrid, Allen held out his hand to him. "And you are?"

"Er..." The boy took his hand. "Harry. Harry Potter."

"Well, it's a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. Potter and Mr. Hagrid." Allen released his hand and walked down the stairs of the doorstep. "We should be going now."

"Righ'. C'mon, Harry."

The large man made his way down the steps with the black-haired boy behind him.

The walk to the Leaky Cauldron was mostly quiet. Hagrid kept giving glances at Allen but the boy pretended to not notice. The large man wasn't exactly subtle. Potter was also really quiet. For a moment.

"Do you know much about wizards," the boy asked. Allen looked over at him for a quick moment.

"No, Mr. Potter. I can't say that I do."

There was a slight pause.

"It's Harry."

"Pardon?" Allen turned his attention back on him. Potter hesitated for a brief moment.

"You can call me Harry. Mr. Potter... just doesn't feel right."

The white-headed boy stared at him for a few seconds. Then he smiled. "Very well, Harry. I'll call you by your first name if you give me the same consideration."

"...Alright."

"This is it," Hagrid finally said as he came to a halt. "The Leaky Cauldorn. It's a famous place."

Allen tilted his head as he took at what he was seeing. It was a small, grubby-looking pub. Entirely obtrusive between the stores it was squashed between. People who walked past looked past it as if it weren't even there.

Magic, he thought. It was the only logical conclusion he could come up with.

Hagrid then practically pushed the boys inside, not giving Allen more time to speculate over how non-magic folk cannot see the building. The collaboration of strange people looked over at the large man when the door opened and waved.

"The usual, Hagrid," asked the old bartender.

"Can't, Tom." Allen nearly faceplanted the ground as the large man placed a hand on his shoulder. He wasn't the only one. Pott- Harry seemed to be having the same trouble as well. "I'm on Hogwarts business."

The bartender (Tom was it?) directed his gaze at them. Or rather, Allen was grateful and rather guilty to say, at Harry. For once, no one was paying any attention to his hair and scar. A scar that he couldn't remember getting but recalled a lot of pain if he thought about it too hard.

"Good lord," went Tom. "Is this...? Can this be-?"

Allen and Harry glanced at each other as the pub went silent.

"Bless my soul. Harry Potter... what an honor."

Before Allen could process what was going on, Tom was out from behind the counter and shaking an astonished Harry's hand. Was he famous or something?

"Welcome back, Harry Potter. Welcome back."

And suddenly, the whole pub had sprang back to life, each moving over to Harry and shaking his hand with greeting. Allen stuck to the side, patiently awaiting until it was over. It had to be over... right? The same person kept getting back in line to shake Harry's hand again and again. And some trembling, stuttering man went up to greet them without bothering for a handshake. Allen heard Hagrid call him Professor Quirrel. He was suppose to be... What's Defense Against the Dark Arts?

During all of this commotion, a lady with a pipe in her hand turned towards Allen and froze. Her eyes went up to his hair down to his scar.

"It's you!" She exclaimed. Allen furrowed his brows as he stared at her. He didn't recall ever seeing her before. "Everyone, it A-"

"Must get on," Hagrid interrupted loudly. Too loud to be normal. "Lots ter buy. Come on yeh two."

Now that the attention on Harry lessoned as the boys followed the large man out the back of the pub, he could finally feel people's eyes land on him. Some whispered, others gasped. It wasn't an entirely positive air like Harry had. Allen decided that it would be best to just ignore it. Maybe it was because of his hair and scar. He was use to this sort of attention. Use to it but it didn't mean that he liked it.

"Told yeh, didn't I?" Hagrid practically beamed at Harry. "Told yeh you was famous. Even Professor Quirrel was tremblin' ter meet yeh- Mind you, he's usually tremblin'."

"That lady..." Allen frowned as both the large man and Harry looked over at him. "It seemed like she recognized me."

"Yeah." Hagrid suddenly looked nervous. "Don' worry 'bout it too much. Yeh just have one of 'em faces."

One of them faces?

The white-headed boy subconsciously raised his right hand to trace the bottom of his scar with a fingertip. How many people had that there? He doubted that it was a common thing.

Hagrid is lying.

"Three up... Two across." After giving either boy a warning, Hagrid tapped a brick and it moved, creating an archway to another street.

"Welcome to Daigon Alley," he told the boys, watching them with a grin as they stared with awe.

They were soon making their way down the cobbled streets. Harry was absolutely mesmerized by the various artifacts of the wizarding world. Allen smiled softly as he watched the ravenette constantly looking around. While Allen was in awe about the various items, they really didn't seem like too much a deal.

"Gringotts," Hagrid had said, breaking Harry and Allen from their observation. They had reached an ivory building. And beside those bronze doors dressed in red and gold was what Hagrid called a goblin. A creature with a dark, clever face and a small beard. As he bowed to the trio before entering, Allen was the only one to effectively bow back, surprising the smaller creature. There was a second set of doors inside. Silver. Words were etched onto them.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the Sin of Greed,

For those who take, but do not earn

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, Beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

That's rather cheery, the snowy-haired child thought before they passed those by and ended up in a marble hall. After a polite smile had deigned no reaction from more than five of the goblins, he stopped trying and wordlessly followed Hagrid to the counter.

"Morning. I came ter take money outta Mr. Harry Potter an' Mr. Allen Walker's safe?"

Allen never lifted his head up so fast.

He has a safe? In the wizard world? That was-!

That was actually pretty cool! He always did try saving his money. He counted it every night before bed and every morning after he awoke. Some of the other kids loved to try taking it while he slept.

As Allen was busy fantasizing about saving his money up in that vault, he followed Hagrid, Harry, and another goblin (he would later wonder how he got there) without paying much attention to anything. It wasn't until Allen had gotten into a cart with them that he was finally snapped out of his thoughts when it lurched forward.

At high speed.

The cart they were in went blazing through a series of tunnels. Right, left, right, right, it mattered not. It was a rather enjoyable ride though, the wind tearing the hair away from Allen's face. A familiar feeling of adrenaline coursed through his veins.

"I never know," Harry had spoken. Loudly so the other passengers could hear. "What's the difference between a stalagmite and a stalagtite?"

"A stalagmite rises from the ground," Allen called out almost immediately, observing how Hagrid and this ride didn't seem to get along well. "Stalagtites fall from the 'ceiling'."

They soon came to a stop. As Hagrid kept himself upright by leaning a hand on the wall, the goblin whose name Allen had yet to learn walked up to the vault door and opened it using the key. Both Harry and Allen gaped when they saw piles gold, stacks of silver, and some bronze coins.

"The gold ones are Galleons," Hargid informed them, both he and Allen grabbing some to fit into Harry's bag. "Seventeen Sickles to a Galleon and twenty-nine Knuts to a Sickle."

Which made it four-hundred nintey-three Knuts to make a Galleon. Allen concurs. Who made up such a horrible way to calculate currency?

Back through the cart they went, the giant of a man looking green once more as they took to the turns and swerves. The snow-headed child almost felt bad for him. Hagrid had four rides in all until they can reach the doors of Gringotts once more. Finally, they came to another vault. If Harry and Allen were amazed by the amount of gold the Potter family had, they were blown away by the Walker vault. Every gold, silver, and bronze had been precariously seperated into large, neat stacks. A paper stood at the end of each different color, counting the amount each type had.

Allen suspected that whoever this had belonged to before it ended up in his hands were quite the cheapskate.

And so he gathered money himself, shoving the gold, silver, and bronze into a pouch of his own before noticing the number on the cards changing from his withdrawel and also leaving the amount it had before a little off to the side. He had to guess that amount of his items and think of what else he might buy around the school terms. And then off they went to the last vault, Hagrid successfully relieving his lunch over the rail of the cart before they stopped and the large man retrieved a singular pouch from inside. The goblin didn't look pleased in the least.

Back out in the sunshine, Hagrid, Harry, and Allen were watching wizards and witches filter on by. He was a little disappointed to find the adrenaline leaking out of his system. If possible, he would spend half his Galleons on another ride.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid after a while as he nodded toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, yeh two, would yeh mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts."

"Go ahead, Mr. Hagrid," Allen had said as Harry nodded. "We'll be there when you get back."

Left alone in a world they didn't know, both Harry and Allen hesitated as they looked up at the store sign. Allen didn't know what his partner's reasons were but he definitely knew his.

This was a tailors in a way, wasn't it? They would have to measure him? That means that they would know that Allen's left arm was paralysed. He didn't like it when people found out. Not in the least.

Harry moved first, breaking Allen from his thoughts. Sighing, the boy followed along. Inside, they were greeted by a smiling witch dressed in muave robes. They were also unlucky to come across a pale boy who radiated the aura of nobility and self-importance.

"What the bloody hell is wrong with your face," he demanded after talking to Harry for a while. Now his attention was turned to Allen as it was now his turn to be fit.

Allen merely smiled back at the boy despite his fist aching badly to hit him. "Wrong? Why nothing, nothing at all."

The boy had gone silent when Madam Malkin came over with a measuring tape.

"Now lift your arm," she ordered. Allen hesitated for a moment before leaning close to her ear so that the rude snob wouldn't be listening.

"It's paralysed," he responded. Then he pulled away with his gaze downcast.

"I see. Well that's certainly no problem. Here, let me..."

It was easy to say that Allen wanted nothing more than to be out of there. Hagrid was at least nice enough to return with three cones of ice cream.

Afterwards, they went shopping for more things. Allen had to inform Hagrid about his...disability when he said that he couldn't gather the rest of the items with his other hand. Harry looked surprised too. Then there was a bit with this Curses and Countercurses that Harry was trying to buy and Hagrid nearly had to pull him away from. Smiling, Allen slid that book on top of the others he was to be getting. Then the large man was courteous enough to get them pets. Harry, for his birthday and Allen for...

Well, he didn't really know what for.

Anyways, Harry had ended up with a brilliant snowy owl. Really, she was a majestic bird. And Allen...

Let's just say that Hagrid pulled a small yellow ball with wings and a tail out from his pocket.

"Dumbledore told me teh give this to yeh. His name is Timcanpy."

The golden ball was delighted when it saw(?) Allen, nearly barreling right into his face. When he had it (him?) in his hands, Allen stared at it with wide eyes.

"He likes yeh," Hagrid said proudly at the rather frozen boy. Allen wasn't sure but this thing was but...

Sniff.

Allen found himself rubbing away tears that tried to present itself in his eyes, effectively astounding his peers. He didn't know why he was crying, just that he was. And he was so happy.

"Er, lets head over teh Ollivander's now," Hagrid finally broke in, looking rather uncomfortable. "Its teh only place fer wands."

Entering a small shop, the four of them (Timcanpy counts) were startled by the appearance of Ollivander. He gave them a greeting, Ollivander mentioning Harry's parents as well as what sort of wand they had. Allen furrowed his brows when he realized that the elderly man hadn't said anything to Allen or whether he sold wands to the parents Allen was always reminded that he didn't have.

An hour later and Harry was still trying out wands left and right before Ollivander finally had given him one that worked. Then his eyes settled on Allen.

"Ah, I have just the wand for you, Mr. Walker," he said, finally acknowledging his presence. "It's been quite a while, I tell you. Life hasn't been treating you as well as it should be."

Hagrid cleared his throat.

"Yes yes, I'm aware." Ollivander dug around some more before pulling out a black box and giving it to him. "Yew and horned serpent horn, twelve inches, reasonably supple. The core was brought to me itself since I normally don't work with it. Go on, Mr. Walker."

Allen took it hesitantly. Almost immediately as soon as his hand closed around it, the wand seemed to emit a vibrating hum in it's fingers as though meeting an old friend.

"That's it. Very good. I was a bit worried seeing that- Oh, never mind."

They soon left, Allen twirling his wand with a thoughtful frown on his face. Ollivander refused to accept seven Galleons from him while he took it from Harry with no problem.

"It's already been bought a long time," he had said.

The Wizarding World was strange.

So after they walked around for a bit, the trio sat on bench while they ate. Allen gave pieces of bread to Timcanpy when he realized that the small thing loved to eat.

"Would it be alright if I called you Tim," he asked, tilting his head slightly as he avoided listening to Harry telling Hagrid of his insecurities. The small creature nodded and Allen felt himself smile. An actual smile that was already so rare for him to make.

Afterwards, they were to leave. Harry had boarded himself up on a train and Hagrid kept Allen with him.

"Yer Headmistress is scary," was his reasoning. "I better get yeh home meself ter make sure yeh'll be alrigh'. Yeh better hold on ter me."

That was the only warning Allen had gotten (Timcanpy then hid himself in Allen's pocket) before he had the most unpleasant sensation in the world. Seconds after, he found himself standing in a daze in front of the Orphanage. Hagrid definitely made sure that he had stopped swaying before daring to knock on the door.

Allen found himself roaming platforms Nine and Ten with Meredith lingering worriedly by his side. His ticket said Nine-and-Three Quarters. He knows it had to be. Let's see... It had to be something that relied on magic, right? So all he had to do was think like a wizard.

Easier said than done.

"Allen," a familiar voice had asked. Turning around, he was relieved to see the familiar black haired boy.

"Harry." Allen showed him his ticket. "I can't find the platform."

"Neither can I." He scowled. "And my aunt and uncle just drove off as soon as I had gotten everything out of the car."

"Well that's not very nice," Meredith had come to say, the beautiful lady flashing a frown. Then she smiled softly at Harry. "You're the boy who was standing behind that man, weren't you? My name is Meredith. I'm Allen's guardian."

"Harry," the boy had responded quietly. "Do you know how to get to the platform?"

"I'm afraid not. I tried asking that guard over there but he gave me a pretty rude look." She shot a piercing glare hard enough at the man standing off to the side. He flinched violently before looking around, having obviously felt the effects of her stare. They stood there for a moment as Allen held his chin, obviously in thought.

"-packed with Muggles, of course-"

Both Allen and Harry raised their heads up, gray eyes meeting green before they shot to Meredith's confused brown ones.

"Muggles are a wizards term," Allen informed before they all began to converge on a family with distinctive flaming red hair. If it was just a bit darker then it would look like-

The thought was gone.

"Excuse me," went Harry as he spoke up.

"Hello, dear-Oh!" The woman had turned around to face him and positively gasped when she saw Allen. "Y-you..."

Allen let his gaze fall to the floor as he swallowed hard. Once more, it was about his scar, wasn't it? But then he felt a comforting hand fall on his shoulders and the mother bear was back.

"You?" Meredith asked, sounding as though she was awaiting a continuation. Allen had to marvel at how her tone was polite and cold at the same time. He hadn't tried speaking to someone like that yet.

"I'm sorry! He just looks a little like someone I knew."

Allen raised an eyebrow with a little bit of skeptiscm being hidden behind his calm mask he carefully threw up.

"Anyways, you're looking for a way to get onto the platform, yes? Here, you just have to cross the barrier."

After one of the redheads made their way through a wall, Allen and Meredith said their farewells, the former about to leave when his guardian pulled him into his arms.

"You be safe now," she whispered.

"I will," was what he said as he pulled away. Then he made his way through the barrier after Harry.

It became a silent agreement between Harry and Allen that, since they didn't know anyone else, that they would be the ones to sit together in an empty compartment. They kept asking questions back and forth, such as what it was like to live in and Orphanage and what Harry's relatives were like. Harry had less than pleasant things. Then he had gotten distracted by that redheaded family that they had met earlier.

One of the youngest male redheads (quickly discovered that his name is Ron Weasley) of that family opened their compartment and asked the two if he could sit. Allen gave him a warm smile. Then his twin brothers entered and spoke about a giant tarantula before disappearing.

"I can't decide whether I should go look or not," Allen had mused aloud.

Ron did not seem to like the idea of gawking at an arachnid.

The trio then fell into a light conversation. Well, Harry and Ron did. Allen opened one of the magic books and skimmed them for information, occassionally joining in when they asked him a question. There were a few intruders. The cart lady for one, then a boy looking for a toad, a girl with hair bushy enough to rival Hagrid's beard, and finally, a trio of troublemakers.

Let's just say that the last group was lucky that Ron's rat, Scabbers, had gotten them to scurry off before Allen had gotten out of his seat.

The trio quickly changed into their robes about five minutes before it reached it's stop.

"Firs' years," Hagrid could be heard calling when they stepped off the train. Actually, he could be seen towering over the heads of the kids. After greeting Allen and Harry with a beaming smile, he led the first years through a dark and narrow path. As Harry and Ron went to a boat that was to be occupied with the bushy-headed girl and the boy with the missing toad.

"Would it be alright if I ride with you, Mr. Hagrid," Allen had asked. Without Harry or, at the very least, Ron to keep him company, Allen was not keen on sitting in a boat with children who would ask him questions about his hair or scar. Hagrid was the best choice even if it increased the chances of the boat capsizing.

Hagrid had on a positively bigger smile than before.

"I don' mind. Get on in."

Allen bowed his head gratefully and slid into the boat.

The ride across the lake was aweing. The castle was grand, lit with what Allen had expected were candles. Everyone was dead silent as it grew closer.

"Beau'iful, isn't it?"

Except for Hagrid. He was quietly murmuring to Allen who, in response, had nodded.

They passed the underside of a cliff. Everyone had to duck their heads to avoid getting smacked in the face with rock. After spending some time in a long, dark tunnel, they emerged in an underground harbor and got off. Harry and Ron wasted no time finding Allen and the trio followed Hagrid by climbing over onto the passageway. As they came to a stop outside a door, Harry's voice slipped out in a whisper.

"Allen, where's Timcanpy?"

The boy instantly froze and began to check his pockets. Empty. Allen could feel the blood on his face drain, making the scar stand out even more.

"I had him before we got on the train," he moaned weakly.

Then the door opened, revealing a stern-looking witch. As supervision switched from the giant man to the woman, Harry had to nudge the stricken Allen inside.

The woman's name was McGonagall. She explained the Houses and the House Cup before leaving them alone for a moment. It wasn't until someone screamed that Allen forced his thoughts from Timcanpy to search for a possible threat.

Afterwards, he was wondering on what he was thinking. There was no threat. In fact, it would be silly to think that there was one here in a school with wizards and witches far more powerful than him. Or so he would hope. It was merely about four-dozen ghosts making their way through. Allen didn't expect them to look that physical.

"It's good to see you," one of the ghosts informed the boy, dipping his head. Allen was the only one who didn't seem terrified.

"And you as well," was his response, equally polite.

"Move along now," McGonagall snapped. "The Sorting Ceremony is suppose to start."

And the ghosts scattered, disappearing through the wall. McGonagall lined them up and took them towards what she called the Great Hall. The walls of the Great Hall were impressive, lit up entirely with thousands upon thousands of floating candles. But it was the ceiling that most attracted Allen's attention.

According to Hermione, it was bewitched to look like the outside, which means that the ceiling was a black blanket with silvery dots gleaming along it. Then his attention was derived by a stool and a hat. A hat that had begun to sing.

When it ended it's course, people applauded and the hat bowed to the four long tables. It wasn't until it stilled that McGonagall began to call names.

Harry ended up going to Gryffindor. The nervous and relieved look on his face made Allen smile. Two other people were called up before him, leaving Allen left with just Ron and another.

"What House do you think you'd be put in," Ron had asked after Malfoy had left.

"Does it matter?"

"Well, guess not. But I wouldn't want to be a Slytherin. Better Hufflepuff."

"Walker, Allen."

The teachers, Allen had noticed, locked their eyes on him. He could even hear a faint gasp from one of the tables.

Allen did his best to appraoch as collected as possible, which he was sure he managed. He didn't like having all eyes on him but it always happened whether he wanted it or not. He sat on the stool with his hands placed on his lap. The McGonagall placed the hat on his head. The thing was so big, it went over his eyes.

"My, my..." Allen could feel it leafing around his head as it spoke to him. "I wasn't expecting you. So different and yet so much the same. You've had more love this time."

The boy clenched his hand.

"More love and less darkness. You're not as ambitious. Just as courageous, yes. He seems to be gone as well but... I sense more lying underneath. Buried. The real one... I see. In that case, you will be placed in-"

"SLYTHERIN," the hat had yelled. McGonagall pulled the hat off and the first thing Allen saw as the mentioned table clapped was Ron's appalled face. Even a glance at Harry revealed his disappointment before he slipped off the stool to the table he was to sit at.

Allen had made sure that he sat a good distance from Malfoy. Unfortunately, when the Sorting ended and the man he had come to know as Albus Dumbledore said a few random words before they've began to eat. Luck was not on his side when Malfoy came to sit beside him.

"Allen Walker," he drawled. "Like the wizard?"

"Sorry, I'm afriad that I don't understand."

Allen was not wanting anything to do with Malfoy after their little incident in Madam Malkin's but figured that it wouldn't hurt to be polite. It seems as though Malfoy comes from an esteemed family.

"Muggle-raised? Are you a mudblood?"

"Yes I am muggle-raised. And mudblood implies a mix of muggle and wizard doesn't it?" Allen kept his expression blank. "I wouldn't know. If you find out who my birth parents are, please do inform me."

Malfoy gave Allen a scrutinizing look. But the snow-headed boy was already tired of his presence and instead turned towards the food. After a moment of debating, he selected what he deemed to be the best of the stack and set it on his plate, carefully making sure that none of the Slytherin's made note to his left arm.

He didn't think that they would be as accepting of it like Harry or Hagrid.

After the feast, Albus gave some warnings about a few rules. Then he mentioned that the third-floor on the right-hand side was out of bounds for people who wished to avoid a painful death.

Allen would be lying if he said that his interest was caught. But he wasn't stupid and thus, made it so that he would avoid that area unless he needed to go there.

Which theretically should be never.

The students were dismissed.

Perfects began leading the first years to their designated room. The Houses split up, Allen not even having the chance to speak to Harry as he was led in an entirely different directions. They went downwards until Allen reached what he noticed was a dungeon.

"The password changes every two weeks," the female Perfect, Gemma she was called, had informed them all. "Please check the notice board by then for a new password." After that, she turned to the wall and spoke in a clear tone. "Salazar."

The wall of the dungeon moved, revealing a corridor underneath. Allen followed the masses in, only pausing when he noticed the area. The windows were tinted green with underwater plants swaying to-and-fro, barely reaching the pane. A fire was crackling in the fireplace and the couches settled there was an inky black. The room itself looked gloomy and cold despite this and yet...

Allen did feel enough familiarity in it to not be put off.

Finding his room was not much of a difficult task. A four-poster bed swarthed in green and silver with three others just like it. Unfortunately for him, his roomates seemed to have found it as well, their belongings placed neatly on their bed. And Allen couldn't believe who he was stuck with.

Malfoy... and a couple of guys who probably resembled trolls. And they were busy scurrying about the room trying to catch something.

"Don't just stand there," Malfoy hissed at Allen. "Get it!"

"Get what?"

Just as Allen looked to see what the comotion was, a flash of gold caught his eye before smacking right into his forehead. His right hand lifted up just in time to catch the creature. "Tim!?"

The golden ball waved his wings and smiled. Allen brought him up to his cheek. "I was wondering where you went! What if I had lost you!?"

"You own that," Malfoy demanded. "It's a snitch."

" It's not a snitch, he's Timcanpy." Allen stared at the golden ball before sighing. Tim took to the air before landing decisively on Allen's head. "And he's a golem. I'm going to call it a night. Let's try to get to know each other tomorrow, shall we?"

The blond narrowed his eyes skeptically.

"Fine."