Author's Note: I don't own anything you recognize.

"RAVENCLAW!"

The first year seated beneath the Sorting Hat smiled widely as cheers erupted from the Ravenclaw table. He hopped down as soon as the hat was lifted from his head, hurrying towards the only people in the overwhelming Great Hall he could now somewhat feel familiar with. He joined the other first years who had been sorted into Ravenclaw huddled together near the end of the long table, despite the many open spaces at the benches.

Cora Danes saw herself in the short, scurrying children. She was beginning her last year at Hogwarts tonight, but it didn't seem all too long ago that she was standing in that gaggle of eleven year olds, knees shaking and fingers twisting together. The Sorting Hat had yelled Ravenclaw the moment its worn fabric had touched her head.

"Exciting, isn't it?" said Adair Minston from behind Cora's turned back. "I almost wish I was one of 'em."

"Really?" asked Cora, twisting around to look at her friend directly. "I don't know if I could truly do another seven years."

Adair rested her chin on her hand. "I wouldn't leave if I didn't have to." She idly fidgeted with a bit of fabric on her robe.

Cora didn't reply. She loved Hogwarts, of course, but the wizarding world was much larger than these castle walls. The dark forces were gaining strength, and the actually level-headed wizards and witches, such as herself, would be needed in the years to come. She couldn't stay here, where things were simple. She watched a young girl rush to the Gryffindor table. She had such a journey ahead of her.

Cora was a dark-haired girl, with skin darkened from her childhood spent outdoors in the sun. Tonight, and like always, her hair was worn in its loose curls, but with a sizable braid adorning her head like a diadem. She wore a thin, golden band around her ring finger. It had been a gift from her parents the Christmas of her second year, and it glinted still tonight in the candlelight of the Great Hall.

"Laramie Syville!" A boy with such pronounced freckles that they could be seen from Cora's seat approached the Sorting Hat. It's flaking brim flopped down over his forehead, with its folded face scrunching in thought.

"Loyalty, yes…" it said. "Very loyal. However… clever. Yes, very clever... SLYTHERIN!"

The table cloaked in green erupted in obnoxious cheers. Cora glanced over with the iciest glare she could muster. A group of seventh year boys stood and welcomed the little boy with loud whoops and yells. She rolled her eyes, hoping they saw.

The leader of this hardly tolerable pack of Slytherin elites had an arm around the boy as they sat. Regulus Black. Cora had already, reluctantly, met the probable felon, as he was a fellow member of the Slug Club. He was insufferable, naturally, and she was sure she wouldn't see the last of him at Hogwarts. If she became an Auror like she hoped, she would most certainly meet up with him in some form of battle. He would be on the opposing side, of course.

The last child had been sorted. Cora realized, with a twinge of panic, that she had forgotten to properly take in the last sorting she would ever witness. Pushing down this somewhat depressing thought, she turned to the feast now before her and her housemates.

"Lots of Ravenclaws sorted tonight," said Adair, digging her spoon into a hunk of sheppard's pie.

Cora nodded before she realized Adair wasn't looking. "Yeah, there sure was," she agreed vocally. She thought to herself that the Ravenclaws were only a large percentage of the rather small number of first years themselves. Many students had opted to stay home due to the impending danger and instability in the wizarding world. "Hey, where's Godfrey?" she asked.

Godfrey Thomas was Cora's male prefect counterpart. She liked him well enough, despite his oddities. He was named for Godric Gryffindor, seeing as his parents had both been extremely proud members of the house. Cora was mildly sure that the sole reason he had worked to become prefect was to try and assuage some of the shame he had felt after being sorted into Ravenclaw.

"Down here, Cora!" said a chipper voice somewhere among the heads bobbing at the table. One of these heads belonged to Godfrey, who leaned forward as Cora leaned back, then quickly leaned back again to meet her eye. "Great group of first years, I'd say."

"Yes, I'd say so," agreed Cora. "I just wanted to congratulate you on Head Boy."

Godfrey gave a feigned bashful smile, though polite. "Thank you, truly, Cora," he said. "It's just been a dream of mine." In other students, these words would come off as sarcastic. In Godfrey, they were the sincerest words ever uttered.

"Mr. Pathe! Please, stay with the group!" shouted Cora at a wandering first year. "You'll serve as a lovely plaything for Peeves if you're not careful." The group of first years she was leading glanced at each other, but any nervousness was overtaken with excited smiles left over from the night's festivities.

"Miss Danes, do we really have to solve a riddle every time we need to get in the dormitory?" asked a young girl at Cora's side as the group climbed the spiral staircase.

"I promise you won't have any trouble with them," said Cora. As she said this, she was reminded of the night during her first year that she had found herself locked out of the dormitory for a good four hours after curfew due to a particularly stumping puzzle. "Truly, you'll be just fine."

She solved the riddle asked by the eagle knocker for the group this time, and they were led into the common room of the tower. She hated those riddles, in all truthfulness. She found them extremely pointless and pretentious. What was wrong with the simple passwords used by the other houses? The riddles were such a bother to her. If any of the houses were to use the only annoyingly and pompously different form of entrance to their dormitories, it should have been Slytherin. She was reminded again of Regulus Black and his slimy gang.

"Having a good first night, are we?" asked Godfrey with such cheer in his voice one could possibly think him acerbic once the group was gathered in the common room.

A few of the first years gave some form of applause, or at least agreement, while most remained timid and quiet. Godfrey was far from discouraged.

"Your actual dormitories can be located beside the statue of our own dear Rowena," he said. "Boys and girls will be separated."

His instructional speech continued, but the first years were growing comfortable and, therefore, restless. Their gazes turned upwards to the velvet dome ceiling with its twinkling stars, similar to those in the Great Hall. Cora sometimes thought the design of the ceiling was somewhat unoriginal given the Great Hall's claim on the design.

"Last first night," said Adair once the girls were in their usual beds.

"Everything you've said this evening has made me sad," scolded Cora. "I shouldn't feel any form of remorse, really. All I've wanted to do is get into the real wizarding world."

"Cora, please. Of course you should be a little sad. I'm feeling well depressed," said Adair, pulling her covers up to her cheek.

Cora smiled at her friend. "Well then, you should stop making all those absolutely dreary comments if you'd like to cheer up. Goodnight, Adair."

Adair was right, of course, about it being their last first night. The canopy above Cora became clearer as her eyes adjusted to the familiar darkness. This view hadn't changed at all since her first first night; only she had. If she really focused, she could make herself believe she was 11 as she looked at the curtains, canopy, and bed posts that had surrounded her for so many nights over the past six years, for it all looked just as it had on that first night in the early 70s. Of course she would miss it, once she was gone.

It was far below Cora's bed that Regulus Black was lounging on one of the fine couches in the Slytherin common room. His cloak was draped across the couch arm beside him, and his tie draped similarly around his neck. He mindlessly rubbed his thumb and forefinger together as he stared at a point on the floor. "Several mudbloods in this year's new batch," he said. "You'd think they'd stay behind like so many of them are. Afraid of the Dark Lord's revolution."

A clammy creature of a boy nodded vigorously beside him. "A right shame, that's what it is," he said. "Just a right shame."

"Allen, it's not just a right shame. It's disgraceful," said Regulus. "Slytherin, of all the houses, shouldn't be polluted like this."

Allen agreed again. "There's just not much to be done, though, is there?"

Regulus gave a sickly grin. "Well, maybe not here in this common room," he said. "There's far more going on beyond these castle walls, you know. The Dark Lord, he's gaining traction, Allen."

Allen grew visibly nervous at the mention of the Dark Lord. "That-that's what they say," he said, still nodding.

Regulus turned towards his fellow seventh year, (although the boy seemed much younger.) "They're not rumors, Allen. The pureblood wizarding community will finally rise up. We could be rid of the ignorant muggles, and have some true free reign. Imagine." He leaned back in blissful thought. "This Dark Rebellion is alive and well, Allen."

"And what about those rumors of a resistance? One that's teamed with the ministry?" asked Allen. He shifted in the armchair he sat in. The leather squeaked beneath him.

Regulus clasped his fingers together and leaned forward intently. "Something like that is insignificant. Nothing can match the power, the passion, of the Dark Lord. This movement he has started is a real revolution against the rise of muggles. The wizarding world belongs to purebloods, and we, led by Voldemort, we're claiming it back." His parents would be so deeply pleased at this heroic display.

Neither spoke for a moment. Then Allen grinned. "You know, you're going to do such great things, Regulus."

The older boy laughed, then sighed. "Well, first, I'm going to get some sleep." He pushed himself up from the couch, his shadow lengthening across the stone floor in the orange, flickering firelight. Great things, he thought as he made the trek to his usual bed. Whatever those things those may be, Voldemort is my gateway.