March of the Black Queen

Year One, Part One: Painting a Black Portrait

Summary: Everyone has to start somewhere, and no matter how fortuituous the start, a turbulent year awaits Hogwarts. Cowardly celebrities, suicidal heiresses and homicidal trolls promise that much, at least.

"Black, Harriet," spoke McGonagall.

Nobody batted an eyelash when a rather thin and short girl with long, messy, yet immaculate, black hair strode confidently to the three legged stool in the middle of the Great Hall. Brilliant emerald green eyes trailed across the four tables as for a good six minutes her mind warred with the Sorting Hat, until at last it opened the flap that served as its mouth and yelled a big "SLYTHERIN!", much to the surprise of no one who had heard her surname.

Under the cheer of her new housemates, she smiled to herself and adjusted her newly recolored robes.

"This is a most surprising development," Severus Snape, potions master unequaled and prodigious fighter, as well as sufferer from chronically greasy hair, spoke as he looked directly into Albus Dumbledore's eyes. He felt the brush of Dumbledore's reflexive legilimency probe, and sent disturbing thoughts of the more disgusting reactions between certain ingredients as a chastisement. The old headmaster chuckled at the similarly reflexive defense that was blocked by his own.

"Is it, really?" Albus asked, raising a white and fluffy eyebrow.

"Oh, yes," said the Potions Master, taking a seat in front of the Headmaster's desk, seemingly relaxed. "One would think that with her family's history, Slytherin would be the last place she'd be in."

"I believe you base your assumptions based on her parents," Albus spoke, shaking his head. "That girl could be no more distant from her parents' influence than you wish she be kept from yours," the old man spoke, absent mindedly ignoring the wince as the cheap shot settled. "Regardless, there is one another I wish to hear your opinion on."

"The Longbottom boy?" Severus asked, distaste clear in his voice. "Truly pathetic in his brewing and quivering under pressure. Why, I believe the slightest push would make him crash into pieces, which will also happen given enough time. I do not know what your game is, Albus, but unless you have that boy trained so that he's better able to handle the pressure, your Boy Who Lived will fall."

"Thank you, Severus, that would be all," spoke the Headmaster, nodding.

Some would think that the overly negative review would be biased and inappropriate, but Albus knew to distill the barely held contempt Severus had for those inferior to himself to see the truth of his statements. Severus had been a genius in his youth, and that had made him insufferable. A crippling lack of social skills combined with his background had made him rather shy and withdrawn, which made him a favorite target of a gang of bullies that had shared his school years. This year, with the manifestation of all the demons that still haunted Severus in his own house, would prove to be very interesting for the sour man.

Dumbledore smiled. It hurt, himself and others, to do this to children so young... but fire and pressure were required if one was to forge and temper a powerful weapon, and unfortunately for young Neville, saving the world from Voldemort was more important than any single boy.

Harriet Black was not well liked in Slytherin, due to her status as a Half Blood, but she was not disliked, due mostly to her name.

The Black family carried immeasurable weight, and she was truly legitimate as the current heiress, and most likely, Lady once she came of age. Therefore, despite racism, people were unfailingly polite to her. Well, all except her head of house, who had singled her out and decided to make her life hell. She knew exactly why. Her father had informed her of the bad blood the Black family and the Snape/Prince family had between them, mostly due to his own, and his friends', actions. Harriet found Severus Snape to be a petty and childish man, but she could not fault his ability.

As such, she had resolved to publicly offer him her sincerest apologies, that were as insincere as they came. Publicly acknowledging that the Black house had been in the wrong during their encounters was a risky gamble. It could be interpreted as a sign of weakness, as a sign that the Heiress was not strong enough to lead her house, but Harriet knew that the pay off would be much too great to ignore.

Severus Snape would be forced to accept, as doing anything less than that would be seen as an insult to the House of Black, and that would destroy Snape's standing with many, many families, as most were unaware of how truly heated the feud had become during the seven years Harriet's family and Snape had shared Hogwarts. But that would not be coming until she had controlled the circumstances so that the biggest amount of people could see it. Until then, she'd endure in silence and hope to impress upon the man that she was not her father.

Given that he'd responded to her dedication in potions by chastising her for showing off, this would be a difficult and slow process.

Regardless, if she could convince him to treat her like a human being without having to force his hand into doing so, then all the better.

As of now, however, her main concern was attaining control of her dormmates. She shared her dorm room with Daphne Greengrass, and next to hers was Milicent Bulstrode and Pansy Parkinson's room. Two other girls were to the other side of Bulstrode and Parkinson, being Tracey Davis and Lilith Moon.

It had taken Harry roughly a week to fully assess the females in her year, but she was certain she had read them as well as could be expected. Daphne Greengrass was apathetic to most things, the reasons of why such a thing happened could vary, and Harry truly had no patience for irrelevant data. Daphne might be apathetic, but there was one thing that she was clearly raised to covet, and that was power. Calm, cold and calculating by nature, she'd certainly be an asset if Harry could convince her to bow to her will.

And Harry knew she could do that much, at the very least, given time. It would be easy to start their 'friendship' as a business venture.

Daphne would be perfect as a little puppet ruler for Slytherin. Pretty, certainly gearing up to become beautiful, intelligent and cultured... Not intelligent enough to stage a take over by herself, which was always a plus, yet enough to act on her own effectively if necessary. She just lacked the 'charm and charisma' parts involved in controlling people. The significant wealth and influence of the Black family also gave Harry a considerable edge in her dealings that the Greengrass family just couldn't match.

Daphne would see their partnership as beneficial, at first, and she'd think herself on top. Harry would let her believe that, convince her she was the real power, all the while tugging on her strings and forcing her to dance to the Black Family's tune.

Pansy Parkinson was a no go for the moment. She was canny and clever, but her temper was easy to provoke, and she would be relatively easy to neutralize as a player. Obtaining her allegiance would be impossible, for the time being, as her family had very tight ties to the Malfoys. It wouldn't be a surprise if they had actually promised her hand in marriage to Draco.

Bulstrode would be laughably easy to sway. Resembling a troll in all but smell (And even that was a near miss at times), she was almost certain to be a target for bullies all around. A simple hand extended in friendship would earn her loyalty in a flash. Being her 'first' friend would give her incredible influence over the ugly duckling, and that was not to be ignored.

Bullied children were such a valuable resource, really. Few noticed their worth, and even fewer were willing to go through the trouble that would result in attempting to tap into their potential.

Lilith Moon would be similarly easy to sway, if not even more pathetically easy than Bulstrode. While Lilith was a reasonably cute little girl and of above average intellect, she came from a family that was suffering, heavily, from the effects of inbreeding. Magic kept the most obvious problems of it, notably physical deformations, at bay, but her magic power suffered in return, leaving her to be quite possibly the weakest student in the school, from her own admission barely above a standard squib (just about enough to use magic, in fact). She was highly undesirable as a marriage partner, as her family held no influence, little wealth and was relatively young on top of that.

Even Bulstrode was more desirable, due to the old name that she carried, to the average pureblood.

Fortunately for poor Lilith, Harry saw her value, and knew how to bring out her potential. Indeed, Harry thought that despite it all, she had gotten quite lucky with her dormmates. She had expected having a harder time.

Tracey Davis was a halfblood, and unlike Harry, she did not have the backing of a powerful surname behind her. Alone in a den of snakes, she'd cling to the first to offer her a hand in support. Harry had already extended hers, and though Tracey had a pre existing friendship with Greengrass, the apathetic girl probably hadn't been a very good friend, or even good company in general. No, it was quite likely that Harry would be the first 'real' friend Tracey made, instead of a playmate arranged for her by her mother, who desperately sought to rejoin society after her youthful indiscretions got her expulsed from it.

One would wonder how Harry could have gleaned so much from Tracey's life.

Well, the girl HAD been desperate for a friend to confess her life's trouble to, and Harry happened to be a halfblood coming from a 'tragic' family life, someone who could and would understand her. Harry would have made a remark about her being easy to sway to her side, if she hadn't managed to gain Tracey's loyalty entirely by accident.

The one who would give her the most trouble was Greengrass, but even that could be resolved with enough time. At the end of her first week of classes, she laid her head on her pillow and smiled at the ceiling. It would be a fruitful year, and if she played her cards right, she might extend her hand into the male side of her year. It was too bad the boys clearly still thought girls had cooties or some such nonsense, else she would have already reached out to make an assesment of the males that surrounded her. For the time being, she ignored the upper years and the males entirely.

There would be time enough to dwell on that, once she positioned Greengrass to take over Slytherin's metaphorical throne. Well, the first years' throne, at any rate, but she'd work on putting Daphne on the top of the ladder eventaully.

it would be a long ride, filled with dangers and potential problems, but Harry trusted herself and refused to back down, even at the daunting road laid before her.

As sleep came to claim her, Harry relaxed. "Soon..." she muttered, growing weaker by the second and finally succumbing to sleep.

Neville Longbottom did not know what to think of his classmates. Oh, his dormmates were cool enough, he supposed, even if they bordered on being fans of his, something that still disturbed him greatly. He didn't want to disappoint anyone, but he knew that he would. He knew that the first person he'd disappointed had been his grandmother, who'd been so happy that he would give honor to the family... but it had been so hard. His accidental magic had been weak, and it hadn't come often. Not as often as it should have, for one who had somehow defeated the Dark Lord.

He couldn't even pronounce the man's name without stuttering! How was he supposed to be a symbol of hope like that?

But at the moment, it didn't matter, because he was in his element. The greenhouses in Hogwarts were nothing like the ones back at his home. There, they hadn't ever been cared for by a green-thumbed hand the way his was. These greenhouses had generations upon generations of ambient magic feeding into them and had been cared for by one of the most prominent herbology masters for decades now. Neville still wanted to set the hat on fire for putting him on Gryffindor. McGonagall was strict and unforgiving, as well as the Transfigurations teacher. Neville would've been much more comfortable with the kind and forgiving Sprout who taught Herbology.

Unfortunately, he was in Gryffindor, and he didn't know what to think of them.

The girls were beyond his understanding. Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil kept talking all the damn time so fast and about so many things following their conversation was an exercise in futility, while Granger and Dunbar were both unapproachable and fairly annoying, though for different reasons. Granger was an annoying Know-It-All with a stick lodged up her ass and a stickler for the rules to boot, while Dunbar was just quiet and exceedingly sarcastic. Neither had friends as a result of their personalities.

In contrast, the boys were fairly easy to understand and get along with. Ron had been his friend since the time they played a few games of Wizarding Chess, Finnegan and Thomas had been friendly from the get go and had loved seeing him get wrecked by a Ron who wasn't even trying, and the fact that Neville himself wasn't a particularly unpleasant individual wound up getting him endeared to the two.

Everyone else was much of a non entity, as Neville hadn't looked very far beyond his house, except for the impressively annoying Draco Malfoy, who had managed to be a consistent annoyance since the first day of classes.

There was another student in Slytherin Neville had taken notice of, and it was perhaps the most mystifying person in the entire school.

'Miss Black' had almost become synonymous with 'Mistery', given how little people knew about her. Neville's grandmother had given him briefings on notable classmates he would have, in an effort to keep her grandson from ruining potential and pre existing alliances or friendships, and she had very little information on Black. She had been the last Lord Black's child, though she was suspected to be a bastard and was almost confirmed to be a halfblood, which was odd in her family. Given that the last Lord Black had been known to be a Blood Traitor, it was a distinct possibility. Regardless, she was a Black and she was the current Lady.

Augusta Longbottom had urged Neville to reach out to her, to try to gain her hand in friendship, though if Ron was to be believed she was not to be trusted, as she was a slimy snake. It was perhaps for the best, given that she gave Neville the creeps. It wasn't anything she had done, in particular, but rather her presence. It just left Neville feeling weird and taken aback. It was as if she held everyone in contempt, but at the same time didn't, since she had been unfailingly polite and almost nice and friendly.

Even to Snape, when the man had obviously rounded on her to try to humilliate her in public. She had remained perfectly calm and answered Snape's questions correctly, giving Neville a strange sort of admiration. The Potions teacher was absolutely terrifying to him, and he hadn't even had the man's attention focused on him at all, as he had been busy hovering over Black and attempting to intimidate her into making a few mistakes. It was strange, given the older years' stories of Snape's incredible bias against Gryffindor. Seems there was someone he hated more than the entire house, and that person had landed in his own House.

Neville sort of admired her for how ridiculously tough she was. Unflappable so far and always bearing a small smile, she seemed like the very epitome of what Neville wanted to be. He wanted to be that cool person who everyone looked up to...

... and yet there was something in his gut that churned every time he looked at her. Something that was somewhere between recognition, which made her feel strangely familiar, and revulsion, which made him wish to be as far away from her as he could be.

Nobody else could see it. Not Ron, not Dean, not Seamus. Ron hated her on principle, Dean thought she was kinda cool, even if she resembled a robot (whatever that was) and Seamus didn't have an opinion of her as he hadn't paid much attention to Slytherin.

Ultimately, he found he'd have to wait until Black revealed her own hand. Until then, he would wait and see.

Daphne Greengrass thought her first month at Hogwarts was a success, all things considered.

She had gained two allies. Well, one she already had before, and the other had come after associating with her first, but her 'friendship' with Tracey had never been too close and for a minute she'd feared losing the girl as an ally to Black. It seemed, however, that Black had no desire to lead, as she had approached Daphne to do so instead.

This was just convenient, she supposed, as she was going to approach Black to gain her allegiance.

In their year, Daphne considered only herself, Black and Malfoy capable of leading. Nott and Zabini were possible candidates, of course, but only if everyone else failed to step up to the plate. Slytherin's internal hierarchy was based on your family's prestige, and as of now, Black was the most prestigious student in the school, much as her house had declined in its later years. She held too much wealth, too many favors were owed to her family and when she obtained control of her family in its entirety, several important families would be at her mercy due to long standing contracts.

Daphne held no illusions that the Black Heiress could overthrow her at any point, and thus believed it in her best interests to keep her on Daphne's side. She seemed content with just being a follower, for the time being, but Daphne paid her attention and tried to make sure she didn't grow bored, restless or annoyed. Any of the three could break their tenuous alliance and spell doom for Daphne's endeavours to run Hogwarts from behind the scenes.

She just couldn't let Malfoy run Slytherin. The pale boy was just too influential not to manage it eventually, without proper competition. On her lonesome, Daphne would not have stood a chance against Draco, if only because their parents' dynamics had put Draco in an advantageous position. Lucius and Abraxas Malfoy had both been too good at what they did, and they had stablished their dominion too strongly for her to change it now...

Unless she had help from someone who held plenty of influence. From someone whose support was a massive boon to anyone in the school.

Black was just the person necessary to break the Malfoys' hold on Slytherin, and Daphne knew she could do this. Draco was not his father or grandfather. He had been spoiled. Draco had the good looks and the influence, but he had neither charm nor charisma. Not yet. He was too much of a spoiled brat, too used to getting his way without proest, to understand how manipulation worked when his whining and begging wouldn't get him what he wanted. Daphne had a brief window of opportunity, perhaps a year, and Black's support to gain enough of a hold on Slytherin that Draco couldn't wrestle it from her once he pulled his head out of his ass.

Black had suggested they work first on swaying the rest of their year, and had even gone ahead and brought Bulstrode and Moon into the fold, and Daphne was impressed. It had been a deliciously simple scheme. After two weeks without friends, both of them had been aching for anyone to reach out and offer them a hand. And Black had done so, most likely with ulterior motives, but she had still offered them a hand in friendship. Tracey had protested, Daphne had been intrigued, and Parkinson had made fun of Moon's health as well as Bulstrode's looks. She had culminated by insulting Black, calling her desperate for associating with such people.

Black had let her run her mouth, only offering the pug nosed girl a calm and somewhat amused smile, before she had merely laughed a little, as if finding the whole thing hilarious. The first year girls had been confused at that, as laughing at insults to oneself was an alien concept in Slytherin. "Lilith is a perfectly nice girl, and none of her health problems are her fault, or contagious," Harry had countered, smiling as she put a hand on the pale and frail looking Moon girl's shoulder, almost embracing her for a second before turning towards Bulstrode and doing the same with her other arm, though Bulstrode's shoulders were much higher up. "And Millie being tall is just convenient. I've always found being short to be a hindrance. Why would I not want a friend who can reach the higher shelves? As for being ugly... I am not looking to date her, Miss Parkinson, I am merely looking for friendship. What she looks like on the outside could not be less important to me, I assure you."

Daphne had to commend Black, and hope that the girl's laziness and pleasant relaxed disposition would continue. The Greengrass Heiress knew that her power started and ended on Black's hand, and that it would be best to remain in her good graces. Until then, she'd try her hardest to stablish her hold over Slytherin, trying to depend as little as possible on Black's influence behind her. Indeed, it would be best if she used it only as a trump card in case of a situation going the worst way possible.

She also tried to ignore the strange urge she had to see what it would be like if Black flipped out and went totally nuts. A girl that calm and collected, even more than Daphne herself, would most likely explode in spectacular fashion.

"Maybe it isn't such a good idea," McGonagall admitted. "I know that we need to boost the Longbottom boy's courage, but couldn't we do so in a safer manner? Couldn't we do so in a way that wouldn't put his life at risk or his person in range of Voldemort?"

Albus Dumbledore shook his head. "I'm afraid it's necessary. Conflict brings out the best in us, makes us as great as we can be. True danger will temper him, give him an edge none else have. It is our experiences that make us, Minerva, and he needs to experience danger and risk if he is to be a hero. I take no more pleasure in this than you, I assure you, but I need a successor, and it has to be him. The world needs hope, it needs a hero it can look up to and admire. I won't live forever, and I will need a replacement, eventually. This poor boy may suffer today, but tomorrow, he will understand."

McGonagall sighed, slumping in her chair. "Even so, Albus... I worry for him. I wish we could give him the unconditional support he was supposed to have."

"I'm afraid Miss Black is a lost cause. I fear my own mistakes concerning her might make her tend to hate me on principle," spoke the headmaster, shaking his head. "I never could have guessed that her only remaining blood would be so despicable. I still remembered Petunia as a bright little girl begging me to let her come to Hogwarts..."

McGonagall shook her head. "We didn't have time to check on her before then. Things were hectic and we had to calm a population that was desperate for their heroes to come forward. We did the best we could, Albus."

The old man shook his head. "You did the best you could, Minerva. I could have done more. I could have read his mind when I dropped her off. I could have seen the prejudice and hatred in his heart. I could have done so much more... but I held to my principles. I respected their privacy and their wishes. When Petunia told me she'd take her niece so long as we didn't interfer with her ever again... I accepted. I was just glad to be rid of a problem, at the time. There was so much to do... I was tired and cranky, and I made a great mistake that costed us greatly. She could have been such a pillar of the light, like her parents, and I ruined it for her and us."

"Mistakes were made," McGonagall admitted, shaking her head. "But I wouldn't go as far as to say she is a lost cause. I have seen that girl. She is no Tom, I assure you. She might be as charming and charismatic as Tom was, as well as just as intelligent, but looking back, there was always an air of barely held in check contempt about him. He was better than everyone else at everything, and he knew it. He had an air of superiority that invoked fear and respect, but also hatred. Miss Black... Her smiles seem much more genuine, by comparison."

Albus brightened considerably. "You know something I don't," he spoke, curiosity clear in his tone.

"I spoke with Filius about her performance in his class, and she is just as bright there as he is in mine. I once asked for her and Miss Granger, whom I believe I have already spoken to you about, to give me a hand in class. Like I said, I believe her smiles to be genuine. I believe she truly enjoys helping others. As a matter of fact, she reminds me of someone else's enthusiasm for teaching..."

The old man blushed slightly, but his smile was wide and full of joy. "There might be hope for her yet. Perhaps I judged her too hastily and too harshly. We shall see what becomes of her... Perhaps we could instigate a friendship between herself and Neville? It would do the both of them good, I believe."

McGonagall shook her head. "I recommend against forcing it. I would say to allow circumstances in which that becomes a possibility."

"Of course, dear. Forcing two people together without a potion to stop them from killing each other is never a good idea," he said with a small nostalgic smile. "But I believe this year should present plenty of circumstances to forge their friendship in flames. Let's just hope for the best... Meanwhile, I shall endeavour to prepare for the worst," Dumbledore spoke.

As if to end their conversation, a burst of flame exploded just above the golden perch that sat on Dumbledore's desk, and from the conflagration jumped a gold and red bird that was clearly the headmaster's prized Phoenix, Fawkes.

"Well hello there, Fawkes. Good haul, I hope?"

McGonagall rolled her eyes. Fawkes might be a phoenix and therefore more intelligent than your average bird... but he was still a god damned bird. "I'll be going. I have a class to teach and the NEWTs are too important to neglect in this day and age."

Dumbledore nodded, and McGonagall dismissed herself when she heard Dumbledore start to argue with his Phoenix companion.

Hermione Granger had not enjoyed her stay at Hogwarts, so far. The teachers were mostly acceptable, except for the horrid Snape, who was challenging her unfaltering trust in authority. Even so, she guessed he was just hard on them so they learned about the dangers of Potions class. She hoped, more like. Regardless of his intentions, he was clearly a master of his art, even if he was a less than profficient teacher. She had no friends, so far, but that was to be expected. Even amongst wizards she was seen as a know it all bookworm, just for wanting to help them!

She had been ecstatic when McGonagall had assigned her to help her peers in class if she was done with the day's spell. In charms, a similar thing happened with Flitwick. Even if the students had looked at her like she was some sort of cockroach, she knew she was better than them at magic. She, a Muggleborn, was better than purebloods, and it filled her with pride to offset the anger and hurt that constricted her chest whenever she thought about the fact that she had no friends whatsoever.

Halloween came, and she had been awed by the Great Hall's decorations, craning her look to look around so much that it hurt the entire meal, but she didn't care. Even if she had to sit basically alone for the holiday, even in her table, all she could do was dwell on the party that she'd had to enjoy on her lonesome. Being distracted as she was, however, made her forget to take very careful note of where she was going and, at some point, she realized she was lost in the castle. Worried and distressed, she began to walk at a brisk pace, looking for anything or anyone that could give her directions.

Unfortunately, she did find someone who could, under normal circumstances, have given her directions. Problem is, circumstances weren't normal. Hermione was vaguely aware of Harriet Black, and her reputation in the school. She knew the girl was seen as nice, kind and helpful, even if Hermione feared that she wouldn't help due to her status as a muggleborn and the fact Black was in Slytherin, a house notorious for housing bigots. That concern flew out of Hermione's mind when she came across Black and felt the stench of blood reach her nose. Guided by her sense of smell, Hermione's eyes snapped to Black's mangled right arm, which looked as if something with rather blunt teeth had gnawed on it for a while. There was also a prominent cut across her face that was still flowing with blood, and the front of her robes was covered in it.

She was also, quite clearly and evidently, exhausted.

"Troll," she stated, dully. "Corpse in bathroom. Need rest," she informed, as she collapsed forwards and face first. Hermione scrambled to catch her and barely managed it. It took a while for her screams for help to reach anyone, and by then Black had already lost a lot of blood, even as the Headmaster teleported them to the nurse's workplace and promptly told Madam Pomfrey to drop everything to tend to Black.

"That was close. You're lucky the cut on your face was so shallow, otherwise it would've left a nasty scar," said the nurse disapprovingly as she cast a variety of spells at her bedridden patient. "Your arm will recover, as well, and there are potions to minimize and eventually eliminate the scars that would be left on it. Wouldn't have worked on one as big as the one on your face, but like I said, you got lucky."

Black looked somewhat bored at the Nurse's words, though her gaze turned to the headmaster, who stood next to her bed, almost inviting him to quesiton her. It seemed he decided he might as well get it over with. "Pardon my bluntness, miss Black, but... what were you thinking? A fully grown troll like that is something only an adult wizard should have to deal with. Instead of taking care of it yourself, you should have informed your teachers."

"I was capable of dealing with it," stated Harry, blandly. "I killed it, did I not?" she added, seeing the headmaster's incredulous look.

Severus Snape burst through the door of the infirmary, looking as if hell chased him. He was ashen white and looked outright murderous all at once. "WHAT WERE YOU THINKING YOU INSANE BRAT!?"

"I was capable of dealing with it," repeated Harry, blinking at her professor.

The Head of Slytherin took a deep breath and mastered himself. "You are just like your father. You sought the glory that would come from handling the Troll yourself, did you not? Answer me!"

"Not at all," she replied, grimacing as her face protested her attempt at smiling for her professor. "I hadn't been feeling well yesterday, so I chose to skip on the feast. Later, I had to head to the bathroom for obvious purposes, and then the Troll walked in, club swinging," she spoke, shrugging slightly. "It tried to attack me, but I attacked it with a spell my father taught me first. I believe it was one you invented, professor, since my father did mention you a lot when he said I was only to use it in absolute emergencies."

"Sectumsempra," Snape said, sounding deeply disturbed. "That... that no good, imbecillic mutt taught a child one of the most dangerous spells I have created!? I knew he had no brains to speak of, but this is just ludicrous! And of course, it had to be THAT spell of all things..."

"Now, Severus, it's clear that he was right in teaching it to her, as it saved her life. Though I wonder how he managed to learn it, as you weren't one to share."

Snape rolled his eyes. "We both know where he learned it," replied the sour looking man.

"How did you get wounded, then?" asked Dumbledore, concern clear in his voice.

"When I decapitated the Troll, it had been swinging its club. It struck several pieces of bathroom furniture and the debris struck me in turn. I tried to doge but..."

Dumbledore held a hand up to halt her tale, as it was clear she was uncomfortable reliving it. He imagined she had tried her best to dodge and just hadn't been able to avoid all the porcelain that had shredded her arm and caused that cut on her cheek. "Regardless, I cannot fault you for defending yourself in a moment of panic, even if the force you used was excessive," Dumbledore spoke. "Therefore, there will be no punishment, as there would have been had you gone looking for the troll," said in clear relief the headmaster. "As a matter of fact... twenty points to Slytherin for such a display of magical prowess. Sectumsempra is not an easy spell, and it must have been rather draining, on top of that... But don't let me take any more of your time. I do believe Miss Granger is desperate to confirm your well being. Are you friends, perchance?"

Harry shook her head.

"Well, it's never too late to start a friendship, and I find that events such as these rather change our perspective of people. Now come, Severus, I do believe I have much to speak with you about," Dumbledore spoke, nodding at the nurse, who even now hovered over Black, looking specifically at the bandaged right arm, almost as if she could see how it mended under the white cloth of the bandages.

After the Headmaster and the Head of Slytherin left, Hermione was allowed in, looking worried as a person could be. It took a few seconds for Hermione to start babbling a million words a minute, piling all of her concern and worry on top of Harry as she looked at Hermione, offering her a kind, if strained smile.

Ultimately, what Harry had deciphered had gone along the lines of Hermione having been immensely scared by the image of a grievously wounded person. Harry thanked her for her help, as best as she could, at any rate.

"Are... are you okay?" Hermione asked, her eyes trailing to the red skin where the shallow cut on her cheek had once been. She raised a hand and almost ran a finger through it, but she stopped herself just in time, believing it would've most likely hurt to apply pressure there.

"Yes," spoke Harry, nodding at her. "Don't worry about me. I've had worse pains," she added, smiling brightly at Hermione. "Are you alright? I apologize for forcing you to deal with an image as horrifying as the one I no doubt presented... but I hadn't a choice in the matter."

Hermione shook her head wildly. "I'm glad I could help you," she said, thinking about how the rumors about Black being nice even despite her intimidating presence were totally right. "Anyway, since you can't go to class or write notes even if you do," she said, gesturing towards the bandaged, and immobilized, arm that the nurse had abandoned to check on her potions stock, "I brought you my notes for today's classes..."

It had been just convenient Gryffindor shared a great deal of classes with Slytherin, in this instance.

Hermione screwed her eyes shut as she searched her bag and brought out he notes. She would have to gauge Black's reaction to this. Hermione wanted a friend. She so desperately wanted a friend... and this proved to be a most fortuituous situation. Hermione had saved Black's life, so she would likely feel indebted to her. Hermione didn't truly care if her friend was only her friend out of a sense of duty. That is how desperate she was to have a friend. Just in case, though, she had decided to be as nice as she could be so Black didn't grow annoyed enough with her to discard her even after she had saved the younger girl's life.

"Thank you, Hermione," said Harry, and Hermione felt her heart soar at being referred to by her first name. She was usually 'bookworm' or 'know-it-all', usually referred to as 'Granger' if she was referred to by name at all. Simply being called 'Hermione' by one of her peers without obvious contempt was already something that had Hermione thanking whatever god was responsible for giving her this opportunity. "Your notes are very thorough and clear," she added, as she skimmed them, "though it seems the class was less than productive."

"Professor Quirrel seemed agitated about something," Hermione confirmed, nodding.

"Again, thank you... but you've done so much for me..."

Hermione's high spirits dropped. The girl was trying to let her down gently, and Hermione was used to polite people doing that. Perhaps it had been too much to hope. A desperate attempt at salvaging this friendship now would probably sour it further, as it had every time she had tried it. She had been called clingy to her face many a time by the people who'd tried being nice to her (most of which had been people seeking to use her to do their homework for them only to find her far too annoying).

"... I don't know how to repay you," admitted Black, smiling once again at Hermione, closing her eyes and seeming thoughtful for a while. "If you ever need anything... I am always available, Hermione. Anything that is within my power..."

"Oh- no," Hermione's thoughts were all confused. Black seemed to... not be trying to get her to go away? That was strange. "Y-You don't need to repay me or anything! Anyone would've helped you!"

Harry shook her head and laughed in amusement. "And most would've immediately sought to ask for a favour of House Black in return, Hermione, yet you did not. Anything you need and I can provide..."

Hermione flushed when Black captured one of her hands with her own left, uninjured hand and used it to pull Hermione closer, enough so that she could whisper into the brunette's ear.

"Anything," she said in a husky whisper that sent shivers down Hermione's spine.

"You're friends with a mudblood, Black?" asked Malfoy, drawling out the last words as if they were an insult on his very being. He stood a few feet away from the couch where his nemesis and rival, Daphne Greengrass, as well as the most infuriating girl in the world, Harry Black, sat.

"Why Mudblood, Malfoy? It is such an insulting term," chastised Harry as she lounged on a couch in the common room. Several of the older students had shown up to watch the amusing verbal showdown between the first year girls and the first year boys. It would most likely be immature and lacking in wit, but that's what made it funny.

Usually.

This time, though, it was funny due to how outclassed in terms of wit a Malfoy found himself.

"Draco, I'd appreciate it if you didn't bother my friends with your unnecessary remarks," Daphne stated, blandly, from her spot next to Black.

"Oh, defending the mudblood filth, Greengrass? What would your father say?" Daphne herself wasn't keen on defending Hermione. Whether she held prejudice or not was irrelevant in this discussion, however, as she knew better than to risk upsetting Black and having her be an opposition instead of a supporter. Her foothold was too tenuous to risk Black pulling the rug from under her. Her opinions about muggleborns, therefore, had to remain tightly locked down until she could influence Black. Shouldn't be too difficult in the long run, considering Black's circumstances.

Draco's remark had annoyed her, but she could ignore it.

Lilith Moon threw herself over the backrest of the couch, laying her arms on it and her head on her arms, bending her body so that she laid her weight mostly on her arms and shoulders. It wasn't much weight to speak of. "What's up with being friends with a muggleborn, though?" she asked, honestly curious.

"Does it matter where she comes from?" asked Black, blandly, looking up at Lilith. "What separates us from the muggleborns is not our blood, but our family," she explained, looking around herself. "All of us, no matter how pure our blood is, come from a family old enough to have their own grimoire, their own specialty and centuries of research for it. Are we naturally stronger than a muggleborn?" she asked, seeing the upper years looking at her oddly.

Daphne scoffed. "Carefully cultivated magical lines lead us to being more powerful on average than muggleborns," she spoke, lifting an elegant eyebrow as if daring Black to question her.

"Greengrass is right," spoke one of the upper years. Someone named Terrence Higgs, going from how Jordan called him during the Slytherin/Gryffindor game that opened the Quidditch season.

"I suppose there is truth to her words. Powerful wizards and witches are more likely to produce powerful offspring," a sixth year boy spoke, as he sat on another couch.

"What about inbreeding, though?" asked someone.

"Well, that's always a risk. That's why we have to carefully control our lineages. Too close and you wind up having a family like Moon's," said another person.

Lilith flinched, but Harry put a hand on top of the one she had resting close to the messy haired youth's own. "Not your fault, honey," she spoke, smiling kindly at her.

The pale girl nodded, relaxing as Black returned to watching the debate of how close was too close that was going on in front of her. Slytherin always had the most wonderful common room conversations, particularly when the embarrasment of those attracted to people far too close to themselves (such as Marcus Flint's unhealthy interest in his elder sister, which caused him to threaten everyone with his beater bat) was touched upon. Snape eventually came into the room and forced them to go back to sleep.

Harry smiled, widely, as she laid her head on her pillow. It would take time, but she'd force Slytherin to warm up to muggleborns, even if it was exceedingly annoying to do so.

Everything was going according to plan.

"Longbottom continues to be disappointing, I imagine," Severus Spoke as he sat on the chair in front of Dumbledore's desk.

"Unfortunately, Neville requires a little more coaxing still," Dumbledore said as he shook his head. "I managed to pique his curiosity. The gauntlet of our design should be enough to give him a sense of confidence in himself. It should prove just difficult enough to present a challenge while not enough to truly stump him. I would much prefer if he had gathered truly loyal friends around himself, but I suppose I couldn't expect that much out of boys so young," he said, falling into thought. "The Weasleys are stubbornly loyal to the people they deem worthy, but Ron and Neville don't seem to be on the best of terms so far."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Longbottom needs confidence more than he needs allies for the time being."

"Indeed, he does, but stablishing alliances early never hurt anybody. I just wish he could be a normal child, but he is not the only one to suffer from a less than ideal childhood. I must persist," finished Dumbledore, nodding at Snape.

"You are talking to the Head of Slytherin, headmaster," Snape warned, knowing that Dumbledore knew about the backstories behind most of the boys and girls under his care. Not all of them came from as loving a family as young Draco Malfoy, and in fact, the majority did not.

Dumbledore shook his head, as if clearing the cobwebs from his head. "Is there anything else you wish to discuss with me, Severus?"

"Yes, actually," the younger man spoke, closing his eyes. "It appears I misjudged Miss Black a great deal, and I fear I might have burned any bridges I might have had with her. You have more experience than I in relating to children. How should I proceed?"

Albus laughed. "Truly, it's not a complex art as you seem to think it is. Not in this case, at least. I doubt Miss Black holds a grudge against you. Otherwise, she would not be as polite and accepting of you as she has been. I do believe that you are rather trying on her patience, and if you haven't made her snap yet, then I doubt a simple apology would be unwelcome."

"To you, it might be simple," Snape said, almost growling at the old man. "How do I approach Lily's daughter and tell her I hated her because of her heritage? How do I approach her to apologize about hating her for something she had no control over? I have no doubt she knows the bad blood between me and her father is sourer than many would guess. She seems... oddly understanding of my rage against her and her family but she is cold and unforgiving."

"Come now, I believe she has a sizable circle of friends. She was described as warm and kind. Almost like her mother, Filius and Minerva tell me," said Dumbledore, sounding slightly confused.

"Can she truly be? After what she's been through, how can anyone be like that?" asked Severus. "Her ability to mask the truth is prodigious, I will give her that, but I know too much to think that she truly is the way she portrays herself. Not after all she's been through."

"I feared such a thing," Albus said, confirming that Snape's thoughts were correct, and the headmaster had suspicions about her becoming another Tom. Severus had no doubt she had the potential to become another figure just as terrifying as He Who Must Not Be Named. "But I will trust in my staff, and their ability to prevent her from getting swayed by the dark." A very clear 'this means you' was tacitly given as Albus pulled his half moon spectacles down to look at Snape directly in the eyes. No legilimency brush was needed for Albus to know Snape found himself flattered and afraid of the responsibility he had just been given.

"I shall do my best," and pray that it was enough, Severus silently added.

"You think you're so much better than anyone, Greengrass! Your grades mean nothing to me! You're riding Black's coattails and aren't any good on your own!" taunted Draco, as he stood back, his arms crossed.

"Oh, Draco, your words cause me immeasurable pain," Daphne countered in an overly melodramatic tone. Snickers were heard all over the common room. "Or at least they would, if your words meant something. You see, Draco, calling someone out on depending on someone else for support doesn't quite work when you yourself depend on your father for everything."

"She's got a point, Malfoy," noted Zabini, from the side, as he read a book.

"So you've got to show her you're better than her," argued Nott, from near Zabini.

Draco had been smirking all the way through the exchange. "And I will do so in a way Black can't save you. I challenge you to a duel, Greengrass! The trophy room, midnight!" he yelled, so the entire common room would hear.

Daphne scoffed. "Why not right here, right now, Malfoy? You want to limit the sight of your humilliation to just yourself and your goons, I take it."

Milicent Bulstrode stepped up to stand next to Daphne, while Crabbe and Goyle jumped to Draco's sides. Seconds later, Tracey Davis stood next to Daphne as well.

Lilith, meanwhile, stood up from her seat and left the common room, clearly on a quest to find the only person she knew would put a stop to this lunacy. One would think she'd go fetch Professor Snape, but she was actually going to fetch the one person in the castle that she knew would act promptly and diligently. She went to fetch Harriet, of course, and eventually found her in the library with Granger, who had pretty much become a common fixture near Black, practically being glued to the younger girl's side when outside the Slytherin common room.

A green eyed monster roared within Lilith. Why Granger? Why a bloody Gryffindor? A muggleborn, even! Lilith might have been a halfblood, but she had pride on her family, much as the name might have been tarnished as of late. To know that she'd been discarded for a muggleborn... it hurt, and fueled a fire that had been growing since being sorted into Slytherin.

"Hermione, you need to relax more," Black stated, as she closed the book she had been holding. A fantasy novel, she claimed, even though it was in the non fiction section, if where she shelved it was anything to go by. The waif-like girl stood up from her chair and walked over to Granger before placing her hands upon the bushy haired witch's shoulders. "You're too tense. If you're tense, your mind is less likely to absorb facts properly. Like I said, you need to relax for your studying to take better hold in that big brain of yours," she sounded amused, as if Granger was a font of comedy gold.

Lilith walked in, breaking the scene and watching with a strange weight in her chest as Granger's face became flushed.

"Lilith, how good to see you outside the common room," Harry spoke, smiling kindly at Lilith. "You look a bit flushed. Perhaps a little fresh air would do both of you some much needed good. Would you mind terribly if we talked as we walk? You seem preoccupied," informed Harry, walking up to Lilith. "Shall we hurry?"

Hermione seemed to interpret this as a dismissal, and after a nod and a gesture from Harry, Granger picked up her books and materials. "Tomorrow, then?" she asked. It seemed as if Granger knew Harry could get called to solve some sort of mess.

"Of course," Harry replied.

Lilith frowned. Didn't Harry wish to spend time with her? Harry was her first friend. The first person not to discriminate against her family. But maybe that had changed, now that she had better friends, more powerful friends that didn't get exhausted from anything more than a few minutes of a brisk walk, who could walk out under the sun without their skin burning and who weren't prone to magical exhaustion from the smallest exhertions. "Why not me? Why her and not me?" she asked herself, perhaps a bit too loudly.

"Why what?" asked a confused Harry.

Emboldened by her jealousy and anger, Lilith clenched her fists and looked at the ground. "You're always spending time with Granger... And since you're out of the common room all the time, we don't hang out anymore since Halloween..."

Harry smiled and placed a hand on each of Lilith's shoulders. "You fear I may replace you with Hermione, don't you?" she asked.

Lilith gave a tiny, shy nod, and Harry giggled.

"Don't be silly," she spoke, removing her left hand from Lilith's right shoulder and using it to cup her chin, tilting her head up so they looked eye to eye. Despite her own shortness, Harry was still half a head taller than the petite even for her age Lilith. "That's not how friendship works. I'm sorry it seems as if I am neglecting you, but I do have to maintain my grades and Hermione is a very good study partner. I did invite you to study with me in several occassions, and you declined," admonished Harry, patting Lilith's head as she did. "Now, I'm sure there's something going on that you either don't want me to miss or you want me to stop," she said, smiling.

"Yes. Draco challenged Daphne to a duel, and Daphne wants to have it right now in the common room... well, that was a few minutes ago... They must be finished preparing," spoke Lilith, urgency creeping into her tone. "We have to hurry! They might hurt each other!"

Harry laughed. "Is that all?" she asked, flippantly. "I don't believe they will hurt each other, but I suppose it would be a rather embarrassing display, and that just won't do."

Lilith rolled her eyes at the Black Heiress' dismissal of the problem a duel between two noble houses represented. She knew Black didn't particularly like Malfoy, but even so, she was pals with Daphne, was she not? What if Draco showed he had prepared for the duel beforehand, instead of acting on impulse? What if he had learned enough to humilliate Daphne?

These questions flew through Lilith's mind up until they entered the common room, to find that there was now a crowd watching a raised platform made of transfigured furniture. It seems a NEWTs transfiguration student had found the entire thing hilarious.

"Oh dear," Harry murmured as she made her way through the crowd, until she saw Daphne and Draco squaring off against each other, wand on hand in both cases.

She wondered, for an instant, how funny it would be to just leave them to duke it out... but squashed all her reluctance as she couldn't allow it to happen. Daphne would be humilliated for her poor performance regardless of whether she won or lost. She was a mere first year student, and did not know any truly impressive magic. Harry herself only knew the few offensive spells she did because her father had been adamant that she learn how to defend herself. It wouldn't do to have Daphne carry the stigma of a rather lackluster performance in a duel.

And she had a great chance of losing.

Draco was son to Lucius Malfoy, one of the most canny and skilled men in the service of the Dark Lord. It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibility for him to teach his son to defend himself if necessary. Daphne had no such distinction behind herself and probably was only capable of a few charms that would be inoffensive, if annoying.

Turning her head to the sides, she spotted Tracey close by. She moved to where the halfblood stood. "Tracey, fetch Snape. I'll buy him time."

Tracey nodded, though she looked disappointed that there would be no watching Malfoy's face be used to wipe the dueling platform, and pushed through the crowd to get out of the common room in search of the Potions Professor.

"Stop this madness," Harry intoned, eyes narrowed and voice cold, as she stepped into the duelling platform. "This is ridiculous!"

"I quite agree, Miss Black," drawled a low, oily sounding voice that sent shivers down everyone's spines, as Severus Snape came in, followed by a sheepish looking Tracey.

It seemed she'd run into him right as he was coming in, which would usually be funny, but Harry just found to be deceptively convenient. He hadn't been there a while ago, had he?

Some would say it was paranoid of her to think Snape might have been following her, but one does not get to be the widely feared 'Miss Black' without being a paranoid bitch.

"A duel between children? What boorish spectacle is any of you expecting?" lectured Snape from his place in the door that led to the hallway beyond Slytherin's corridor in the dungeons. Snape knew that Quirrel hadn't taught them any offensive spells. It just wasn't done in first year. He himself thought the practice stupid, but maybe that was why he was never given the position. "All of you, disperse! Miss Greengrass, Mister Malfoy, both of you will come with me. I assure the both of you that you will be serving detention for the entire week for this foolishness!"

Daphne seemed to deflate as her anger left her and she realized just how big a blunder she had made in not only accepting Malfoy's duel, but in acting so rashly in general. She shouldn't have let her pride get the better of her. She should have remembered she didn't actually know how to duel, but her anger at Malfoy's insults had clouded her reasoning. It was infuriating, and embarrassing, to admit that he could get under her skin so easily.

"Miss Davies, five points to Slytherin for being responsible," spoke the sour professor, glaring at the bunch of idiots that still remained. "What are you waiting for? I believe I ordered you all to leave," he finished, gesturing towards the two idiots on the platform, gesturing for them to follow.

Harry sighed in relief. While this was not an optimal situation by any means, the result was far less damaging than it could have been. Daphne would most likely have lost and taken a humilliating hit to her pride, dignity and most likely her usefulness towards Harry. Even now, she'd likely take a small hit to her reputation, but it was nowhere near as large as it would've been had she lost.

The best would have been to not rise to Malfoy's challenge and merely make fun of him for resorting to the boorish methods of a brute due to his inability to utilize words. Lilith had been most informative in how the confrontation had gotten started.

Yule had come and gone, and the only presents Harry had gotten had been the same ones she had gifted her friends. What she could obtain and purchase through an owl catalog, as she was not allowed into Hogsmeade to obtain more fitting presents. She had made use of the owl catalog as well as the school owls to get everything she needed, however, and she had managed to deliver chocolates to all of her friends in amounts enough to not be insulting. The exceedingly small pile of gifts on her bed was nothing unexpected.

The fact that almost all of them were simple affairs and all of them were from her Hogwarts friends should not have stung as much as it did, but Harry had to wipe a single tear that managed to sneak down her face before she could steel herself.

Leaving her gifts behind, hidden in her trunk, she set out to celebrate with Lilith, the only one of her friends left behind for the yule time. She seemed glad to spend some time out of the common room, even if she complained it was doing her health no favours to be out in the sun, no matter how much the clouds in the sky stopped it from piercing through at full strength.

It wasn't a bad year, Harry mused. At least she'd had someone to spend the year with this time.

"Longbottom," Harry said, an apologetic smile on her face, as she picked herself up from the ground, much faster than the boy who was now tangled in a semi transparent, silvery piece of cloth. "I didn't see you there, she added, eyeing the piece of cloth in Neville's hands.

"You couldn't have," the chubby boy spoke. "I'm sorry I ran into you, I was just-"

"In a hurry? In trouble? It matters little, Longbottom," she said, waving off her concerns.

"Actually, it kind of does. Snape saw me, and he's probably gonna give me a lot of detentions, since I was in the restricted section of the library, studying the... more dangerous plants..." he seemed to falter, at the end, and he'd probably messed up a rehearsed response, but Harry didn't much care for it. The Longbottom boy was irritating with his shyness on his best days, and Harry had no desire to spend time with him, but she couldn't alienate the Boy Who Lived, so she had to humor him for the time being.

"I see. Perhaps an abandoned classroom would be enough to hide for the time being?" she asked, as they both wandered into one such room, choosing a door at random, one that had only a large, maybe even overly so, mirror. Harry had merely accompanied Longbottom in an effort to appear friendly, but she was intrigued by the markings etched into the mirror. She hummed to herself, as she ran the words in her head over and over again...

"I show not your face but your heart's desire," spoke Neville, suddenly. "I've been here before," he added.

Harry nodded. "So it's backwards, then. Simple enough," she noted. "What do you see, then, when you look into the mirror?"

"I see my parents and gran. They're... proud of me," his voice choked near the end, as it was clear the image caused powerful feelings to erupt inside him. "W-What do you s-see, Black?"

Said girl smiled. "That is a rather forward question, but I do see a shy boy who could be so much better if he just believed in himself," she stated, her tone showing her clear amusement, as she turned to face Neville, taking the time to wink at him. "I see a boy whose parents could be proud of, if he stopped second guessing and doubting himself."

Neville flushed. "I... I can't... I'm not that good... I'll never be able to be a cool auror like my father, or a strong Hit Wizard like my mother..."

"And who says you can't be, Longbottom? Only you, I assure you," Harry spoke, crossing her arms. "Perhaps you ought to give Neville a chance?"

"T-Thank you, Black," Neville stammered, as he saw the girl take several steps forward. He flushed under her attention. "For your kind words, I mean-"

"Kind words? I merely state the truth. The world believes in you, so why shouldn't you, as well? Everyone can't be wrong, right?" she smiled, and turned around. Her eyes focused directly on the mirror.

"You never did answer what you saw in the mirror," Neville pointed out, as she looked into it with an almost wistful expression before her smile returned in full as she faced him again.

She winked at him, again, and her smile widened. "Who said that what I told you wasn't what I said? Have some faith in yourself, you might be desired by the hearts of more than one girl," she spoke, giggling softly.

Neville went beet red. "Wha- I mean- why-"

Harry moved, almost gliding through the air in Neville's eyes and tilted his face slightly to the side, before placing a peck on his cheek. "Like I said... have a little faith in yourself, you might life has its rewards for those who persevere," she said, almost whispering into his ear, pulling herself back and then leaving the room, leaving him beet red and alone with his wild thoughts and rampant imagination.

Harry turned and tossed in her sleep that night.

Albus Dumbledore smiled as he saw Neville Longbottom look into the Mirrror of Erised. He almost used it as if he were visiting his parents' graves to speak to them, given that doing so was impossible for the young boy. A pity he'd soon have to move it. Giving Neville that invisibility cloak had been one of many gambles Albus had made with regards to the boy, of course always with stacked odds in his favor. So far, he had mostly been correct, and he had been steadily building up Neville's confidence and inspiring in him a sense of adventure, trying to get him to seek the path of a hero.

He wondered, however, why Black had lied to him. It was clear to Albus that Black hadn't seen what she had said... but why lift his spirits the way she did? There were many possibilities, and Albus didn't know what to make of it. Black was an enigma wrapped in mysteries, as many things about her were kept secret even to Albus himself, her motivations chief amidst the mysteries that followed her. Snape could only do so much, and the girl, while perfectly civil, was not particularly friendly to the sour man after he had alienated her from him.

He supposed he'd have to give Severus more time in working with her. With some time and luck, perhaps he could worm himself into the position of her mentor, and from there her confidant. She was a preteen girl, she could not possibly remain guarded as well as she was all the time. Eventually, the mask would crack, and Albus would judge her then. Until that moment, he was giving her the benefit of the doubt.

She had obviously meant to avoid answering Neville's question. Was it out of embarrassment, or was her heart's desire something she didn't want known? Albus thought that, had she outright lied, this would be much less of a headache. She had simply chosen not to answer Neville's question, dodging it expertly by preying on Neville's insecurities. Even so, she had done it in a way that had boosted Neville's fragile confidence, even going as far as to fake interest in him of another sort. She couldn't fake it well enough to fool Albus Dumbledore, but she had certainly fooled Neville himself.

Dumbledore had, for a brief moment, considered giving her the invisibility cloak instead of Neville, but that would not have been a very good idea. The cloak belonged to her as her birthright. That much was true. However, Albus just didn't trust her with an artifact of that caliber. Much as he hated to admit it, the girl was not a very trustworthy individual. Too bright, too good an actress and too good a manipulator. Severus had spoken of her as an example of the qualities sought out in Slytherin students.

There had been one other student to match Slytherin's preferred qualities so well, and Albus feared her turn to the dark would be as disastrous as that boy's.

He hoped, fervently, that she would not fall the same way that other boy had, but he had told Minerva he was preparing for the worst, and that was what he intended to do.

Dumbledore's ofice was full of strange knick knacks that drew the eye and distracted the young students that visited it. That was carefully planned, as it helped put them at ease. He had dealt with children for decades now, and knew the ins and outs of how to make them do pretty much anything he wished them to. The Slytherin students were no different. It didn't matter how much their parents tried to raise them to be players, they were susceptible as any other pawn.

Their parents would only be a problem if they were informed of dsciplinary actions undertaken by Dumbledore, and students didn't wish their parents to know of their misbehavior. All Dumbledore needed was to catch any of his targets doing something they weren't supposed to do, but which everyone did (such as magic in the hallways) because the rule was not oft enforced. They'd attribute him catching them to bad luck, when in truth, he'd been observing and waiting.

That was how he caught Milicent Bulstrode and Tracey Davies as they were busy practicing the levitation charm, and that was how he got them into his office for a chat, under the pretense of disciplinary action.

"Now, I won't take points off or assign detention, because I believe the rule you broke is a silly one," considering that it had been put in place specifically because Dumbledore himself had been so good at transfiguration that he'd taken to practicing by transfigurating the Hallways themselves, he had a personal vendetta against that specific rule, "but I want you two to know that what you did was wrong, and breaking the rules is nothing to be applauded."

It took a few seconds of lecture to make them squirm in their seats, uncomfortable at his gentle rebuking of their actions. He smiled to himself, and proceeded to question them about how their year had been, so far, specifically fishing for information, of any kind, on their relationship with Black. Both gave him glowing reviews of her personality, describing her as kind, helpful and intelligent, thought they also said she seemed uninterested in actually controlling Slytherin house, instead seemingly more interested in watching the fireworks that resulted from watching Daphne and Malfoy clash.
Dumbledore discreetly made notes of everything he found interesting, including how the dynamics of Slytherin house had shifted over the years, ever since the Slug Club had been disbanded (it had served very well to exemplify the hierarchy within the house, but since Slughorn had gone, Snape hadn't chosen to continue the trend, and these days Slytherin House was much more divided than it had been before, with every year more or less doing their own thing while being vaguely subordinate to the elder years).

"That will be all, thank you for your willingness to entertain a bored old man," he said, as he showed them out and told them that the rule only applied to hallways, and they could do all the magic they wanted within the classrooms. The implication hadn't been particularly subtle, but Dumbledore felt it necessary. They were kids, after all.

Dumbledore was once again forced to simply wait, see, and hope for the best.

I wrote this fic entirely as an experiment. This was originally gonna be a one shot with a much quicker pace, but I suppose the idea took too deep a root in my brain. Also, it just went on forever.

Before you ask... All questions should be answered by the story itself. I'm looking at something around 14 chapters, two parts to every year, but it might be more or less. THe word count will also range wildly. First year just has too much ground to cover, too much setup to make. The pace should pick up.

I suppose I don't even need to say how big an AU this is. And I'm waiting to hear the people who complain about the 'Golden Trio' not forming around Neville. I admit I've always been mystified by how people think Neville is just like Harry and thus when he is the Boy Who Lived, everything goes the exact same way it went in canon, except Neville is in Harry's place. I've seen him become Gryffindor Seeker in first year (Neville is canonically terrible on a broom and the events that let Harry prove his prowess on a broom are dependant on Neville dropping the remembrall when he hits the ground after showing his own prowess on a broom), save Hermione from the troll (while one could argue a case for this, it requires gleefully ignoring the Butterfly Effect), forming the DA (Harry is canonically talented in Defense Against the Dark Arts and a decent enough teacher, and while Neville eventually becomes a badass, that has less to do with talent at Defense and more with being, well, a badass, and he's also never shown to have any talent at teaching), winning the Tri-Wizard Tournament the exact same way Harry did (up to and including saving Gabrielle) and even having Hedwig and naming her exactly that. So, essentially, they make it so that while the AU means that Harry is not, well, Harry, there is still a Harry in the story.

Which I've always seen as simply lazy. If you're gonna make it an AU where Neville is the Boy Who Lived, then make an AU where Neville is the Boy Who Lived, not where Harry wears Neville's skin. Neville's situation is fundamentally different from Harry's: He has family that actually loves him, demanding though they might be, and he deals considerably worse with pressure than Harry does. I will try to keep Neville in character as much as I can, but his different situation will influence his character, just as much as Harry's influences... uh... hers.

The reason why Harry is so mentally messed up will be given, in time.

I originally was gonna use one chapter per year, but the first chapter was 12 thousand words and there was still quite a bit of ground to cover. The other years will probably be a fair bit shorter, though.

Just so we're safe...

This ain't no happy world.

I just wish I knew somebody who could draw, since I think this story really needs a proper cover. Too bad.