A/N: Written for the Diversity Writing Challenge at the Basket of Books Challenge Forum, L16 – write 100,000 words of your multichip in a year, and for the So You Think You Can Write a Novel Competition at the HPFC.

The House of Solitude

Chapter 1
The Platform

Most students had two parents accompanying them. Remus had almost had none, but his father had been stubborn. He would not miss seeing his son off to his first year at Hogwarts, he said, and there were plenty of others to take care of whatever was claimed to be roaming around the Forests of Dean. Remus had heard that conversation, though he didn't think he was supposed to have, and the knife of guilt was still tucked quite painfully in to his gut. But his father's face bore no recollection to that argument with his boss or the work he had been called in to do. He was only looking at his son in a mix of worry and joy and sadness.

'Be sure to write,' he said quietly. 'I want to hear all about how Hogwarts treats you.'

Remus nodded obediently. That was another knife, this one tucked in to his ribs on the other side, so it hurt to breathe in too deep. Hogwarts… something that had become a dream after that fateful night. A dream that had come true with an owl and a visit from a legend come to life.

Or, he corrected himself, the current headmaster of Hogwarts. It wasn't really his fault most of the chocolate frog cards he'd collected had the man's face and profile on them.

A tiny smile twitched at his lips at the thought. The twisting in his gut and lungs lessened.

He looked at his father. He smiled widely and ruffled Remus' tawny hair. 'I had a long list to read,' he said, sounding like he was trying to stop himself from reciting it. Remus was grateful; it would only bring the twisting back. 'Just…try not to worry too much, okay?'

Remus laughed weakly at that. Paranoia was his life out of home – and, to an extent, even in it. Nowhere was safe. Nowhere was secret. Even those light brown eyes looking at him like any other father could be secretly looking at him with hate. And this was the father that had raised him from toddlerhood. Who had saved his life. Who had saved his humanity. Who tried so very hard to not let the world alienate his little boy for what he'd become.

His father's mouth had twitched into a frown of worry, and that stab of guilt came back. 'I'll try,' he forced himself to say.

The smile returned, though the sadness was deeper this time. 'Have fun,' his father said firmly. 'Have fun, don't get into too much trouble with the teachers –' Was that someone staring at them? Remus thought he saw a dark-haired boy looking incredulously in his direction. He shrank behind his father's shadow. ' – and be – ' His father corrected himself. ' – stay safe.'

'I will.' And that was a more fervent reply. Remus knew how careful he had to be, and why. 'I'll be careful.'

His father ruffled his hair again. 'Have fun,' he repeated, before handing him the trolley and given him a light push. It was a worn trunk: one of his father's work ones – his father had insisted. It was strong. And it had handy compartments for things, and it had a few permanent charms. Remus would be one of the few not struggling with his trunk at the end of the school year.

Remus tottered a few steps before pausing. His father waved. Remus swallowed and marched himself to the train. No going back now, he thought to himself.

He was excited. Really, he was. But his insides were just a bundle of knots right then and it was hard to remember that.

'Yo.' Someone clapped him on the back and his knees buckled. 'Whoops, I didn't clap you too hard, did I?'

Remus stared blankly at the boy. He was a little taller, and he stood straight as well. Not at all hunched over like Remus was.

The other boy was giving him a similarly curious look. 'You're a first year, right? I saw you talking to your dad there.' He jerked a thumb.

Remus nodded, breath caught. Had he noticed already? Was he going to say something?

'Your dad's seriously cool.'

Remus stared. Then, when his eyes burned, he blinked rapidly. 'Excuse me?'

'Your dad?' The boy sounded a little unsure, but looked relieved when Remus nodded. 'He's cool. He practically gave you permission to pull pranks!' The boy sounded excited about that…and a little put out. 'My ones made sure I knew I'd be getting double punishment.' Then he grinned so widely Remus had to wonder how his teeth didn't fall out. He knew, of course, through other personal experiences, but it was one of those irrational thoughts that popped into his head. 'Assuming I get caught, of course.'

Remus understood the words, but somehow he found himself grappling for the sentiment behind it. Maybe it was for normal people, he thought – and a tinge of bitterness snuck in. But it wasn't this boy's fault Remus wasn't normal. It wasn't his father's fault either.

'Hey!' The boy was waving a hand in front of his face. 'Do you talk?'

Remus flushed, though it wasn't the first time he'd heard that question, nor would it, probably, be the last. 'I – I'm sorry.' Apologies usually worked, even when the person apologising didn't have a notion about what they were apologising for.

The boy looked a little less excited now, but he still stuck out his hand. 'James Potter.'

Remus looked at the hand, then tentatively reached out his own. It took willpower to not yank it away, but he managed it. He told himself he needed to get used to meeting lots of new people. He was going to a new school after all. 'R-Remus Lupin.'

He didn't grip tightly, but the newly introduced James made up for that. 'Do you always stutter?' he asked curiously.

Remus mumbled something. He wasn't quite sure what. James mumbled something too – probably clearer than Remus, but Remus hadn't been paying attention. He'd started looking for an empty carriage by then, and when James gave a half-wave and drifted off (the explanation behind which was probably buried in that mumble), Remus sidled along to the empty carriage. He tucked his trunk into the rack, then poked his head back out.

His father was still there, in the throng of other parents and students and siblings, waiting patiently. Remus wanted to stay and protect the sanctuary he'd found, but he know he owed his father a proper goodbye so he hopped off the train again. His father smiled when he came up.

'Make a friend?' he asked. He was nodding to the black-haired James who was talking to someone who looked his age. Remus realised he hadn't even asked what year the other was in.

He sort of shrugged. His father made a nod of understanding. 'It'll come in time, don't worry.'

'I'll try,' Remus murmured again. And then, before the train whistle blew and he missed his chance, he hugged his father around the middle. 'I'll miss you, dad.' And he would. He was missing him already. His father was safety. His father was stability.

But his father was also the one thing he couldn't bear to lose. The person who was always in shadows, warped, in his nightmares.

His father knelt down and hugged him back. 'There's the train's whistle,' he said, a half-moment after it blew. 'Get going now. Send me an owl when you get there. And after the Sorting do.'

Remus nodded, but he didn't move. There were a lot of students, pouring into the compartments.

When the crowd thinned, then he went. And found, to his relief, that the compartment he'd chosen was still, aside from his trunk, empty.

.

Regulus sidled away from his brother. He recognised that messy black hair standing next to him and the way the boy held himself that screamed pure-blood. And if it were only that, it would have been fine. Their mother would have been pleased to see them associating with the right sort of people.

But the only thing she considered right about the Potters was that they were pureblood. Aside from that, they were a line of Gryffindors. They were Muggle-lovers. Muggle-sympathisers. They were in Albus Dumbledore's back pocket – but Regulus didn't think that was such a bad thing when Albus Dumbledore was the headmaster of the school Sirius was going to start attending this year…and he, Regulus, would attend from next year onwards.

But it wouldn't do to make their mother mad. Which Sirius was liable to do, talking with that Potter boy.

'Sirius,' he hissed, reaching out to tug a sleeve. He was just close enough now to do that. 'Come on.'

Sirius glared at him, but looked at his mother and made half a shrug. 'I'll see you on the train,' he said to the Potter boy. 'Save me a seat.'

The boy grinned and gave a mock salute. 'Will do.'

And Sirius let his younger brother pull him away. 'What were you thinking?' Regulus hissed, as they pushed their way though the crowd back to the Blacks. 'If Mother saw you –'

'Mother's going to have plenty to say,' Sirius grumbled. 'I seriously hope the Hat doesn't put me in Slytherin.'

Regulus stopped walking and gaped at his brother. 'Not in Slytherin?' he all but squeaked. There was the odd Ravenclaw in their family, but the rest of the Blacks had been in Slytherin. Always. And the Ravenclaws were…not frowned upon per say, but not properly respected either. Bellatrix and Narcissa always turned their nose at Andromeda for failing to make it into that House. And they'd do worse to Sirius, the heir of their fortunes. 'But you can't –'

He winced as Sirius roughly grabbed his elbow. 'How can you honestly think I'd want to go there?'

Regulus didn't. And, if he was perfectly honest with himself, he didn't want to go there either. But their mother would be furious. She was far too often furious with Sirius – though he'd shown remarkable restraint since his letter. Perhaps it was their mother's threat to send him to Drumstang otherwise. Sirius would find no peace at Drumstang. Hogwarts at least was mixed, with the man who headed the side of the Light at its head. Appearances, his mother called it.

But what was causing a scene and rebelling like a pre-teen going to accomplish? Regulus was barely ten and he could see Sirius was only bringing heavier scrutiny and restriction upon himself – and on the both of them if, Merlin forbid, their mother gave Sirius up as a lost cause and turned to him to take up the position of heir.

That would be too weird. It was Sirius who was the heir. Who was the smart one, the handsome one, and, most importantly, the elder one, the one who'd inherit.

Regulus took a deep breath, and spoke his bit before they got into hearing distance of their mother and brought her ire on them both. 'I don't,' he said honestly. 'But things will be rough if you wind up anywhere else.'

Sirius bit down on his lower lip and said nothing in reply. Then he shook his head. 'You've got Mother to yourself for a year,' he said, finally, his voice low enough to be almost drowned out by the chatter around them. 'Try not to follow my example.'

Regulus cracked a grin at that. 'I won't,' he promised. 'And you try not to get Mother hating Ravenclaw before I'm safely in there, alright? And try not to let Mother catch on about the fact that you're sitting on the train with – ' He broke off with a little shrug. 'You know.'

Sirius grin widened. 'I'm sitting with Andy,' he said innocently. 'Whatever do you mean?'

Regulus sighed and shook his head. 'Just…try not to poke the sleeping dragon too much. Mother will make good on her threats. You know she will.'

Sirius' grin disappeared. 'I'm no Slytherin, though,' he whispered.

'The Hat might put you there,' Regulus offered, and he seriously hoped it would. Just like he hoped it would put him in Ravenclaw, come his time. Ravenclaw was quiet, and neutral. And with Sirius as the heir, it wouldn't matter if he sidled to the side of the Black family tree. If he married a nice pure-blood, he'd had some freedom in his life, and his thoughts.

He tried not to physically shake his head. Their mother was watching them now. But he was thinking of marriage at ten years of age. Things like that really did prove he was related to Sirius. A lot of things did, besides their looks.

Unfortunately, he had to hide most of those things.

He was a year younger than Sirius, but his mark was better.

.

Sirius' ire at Regulus' behaviour and his interruption quickly vanished as they had a whispered conversation on the way back to their family. It was just worry; that was all. Just like he always worried when Sirius caused a scene that earned him the cane or a curse. Always fretful that their parents would finally disown him – as if they'd want the public backlash that would come with disowning the heir of the Black family. But her other threat was enough to stop his tongue on more than one occasion.

But he'd been fretting over the House placements all summer, ever since he'd won the plea to be allowed to attend Hogwarts. Their father had made it abundantly clear they won't accept Ravenclaw from him as their aunt and uncle had been forced to do with Andromeda. But Andromeda was a girl. If she married a decent Slytherin pure-blood, it wouldn't matter. Girls didn't become the heads of families. Girls didn't inherit. Even Regulus might be okay – but it really depended on his behaviour at Hogwarts this year.

Sirius hated all those chains. They made him want to struggle. Want to break free.

He'd be a little freer at Hogwarts, hopefully. And that was the thought that kept his pretty pureblood mask in place as he approached his mother. She sniffed at the sight of him. 'Mingling?' she asked, a hint of warning in her tone.

Sirius understood perfectly. Not associating with those beneath our family, I hope, was what she was really saying.

He'd prepared an answer for her. 'I saw Gregory Goyle over by the back carriages.' And had exchanged a few forcefully polite words just so he had an alibi – because no doubt his mother would bring the topic up with the Goyle family. He wasn't the prime exemplar of the scions of pureblood society, but he was respectable. The Potters weren't.

And it wasn't as though he was forging a life-long friendship. He just happened to hear a curious comment he'd made with another kid – that tawny-haired one who looked only as old as Regulus but had a trunk. So he must have been a first year. At least. But that kid had brushed Potter off, by the looks of things.

But Sirius had heard something about a penchant to causing trouble and he couldn't resist setting up an acquaintance. If they met at Hogwarts, which they probably would, he'd at least have established a bit of a connection beforehand.

Though his mother would be appalled to learn he was applying her lessons in such a manner. Hopefully, she never would. Learn, that was. It was a bit too late to do anything about the lessons themselves.

He was very mindful of the fact that he had to keep up a façade with them. So he listened with a half-attentive ear to their mother prattling along about which kids he should get to know and which ones he should stay away from.

'…and I hear the Potter boy is starting this year as well – ' Sirius glances at Regulus; he's got his poker face on. 'Waste of pure blood, if you ask me –'

Which meant he was of a decent sort.

' – same with the Longbottom boy –'

Sirius made a mental note of that. It all depended on Hogwarts, really, but the ideal world would allow him to be friends with the people his mother would hate him to interact with, and she wouldn't be able to do a thing about it.

The thought of that freedom was so intoxicating that it was an effort to keep his face straight and his voice polite. But the fear at the back of his mind was enough to balance that. He needed this. And he couldn't slip up and earn a sharper eye or, worse, a spot in Drumstang's cold and black walls.

It was no wonder Walburga Black thought it an appropriate place. Luckily, they weren't in Britain nor were most of the students British: their one dark mark. Hogwarts, so long as it was salvageable, was closer and more authentic – though it was laughable how the current members of the Black family had forgotten their roots.

Sirius so no reason to remind them, though he was sure Beauxbatons would be similarly free and, better, without the prying eyes of his few relatives already nested into Hogwarts, but it was headed by a half-breed and the French in them had long since been bled out with more noble blood. Rubbish, in Sirius' opinion – an opinion he'd voiced many a time before but not of late. Hogwarts was a compromise he was more than willing to accept. Though the idea of being taught by a half-breed was quite appealing, the fact that his mother had to accept Albus Dumbledore, one of the great leaders of the blood-traitors, as she called them, was even more amusing.

And he wasn't going to make her mother's flimsy mind tip away from his favour.

The train whistle blew, and their mother made a grimace and a jerk of her head. 'Best be going,' she said, offering a hand.

Sirius kissed it as lightly as he thought he could get away with, and held a hand out to his brother. He'd have chuffed the little lad on the back, but his mother's sharp eyes had not left him and he thought it best to spare himself a scolding this once and do the more pureblood-worthy thing. Regulus shook his hand solemnly.

'Write once you've been Sorted.' His mother frowned at him. She expected Slytherin. She promised doom for anything less than Slytherin. He wouldn't give her Slytherin. He couldn't. And, with that intense stare boring into his head, he wondered if, deep down, she was aware of that too. If she was trying to stamp the non-Slytherin nature out of him.

I'm afraid to say you've failed, Mother, he thought dryly, though it was too soon for that. But it wouldn't be Slytherin. He was sure of that. He'd been sneaking around for the last month or so and it was the hardest thing he'd ever had to do. Too many times he'd almost burst. Too many times he'd almost ruined it all.

Nope. No matter how much his mother wished it so, Slytherin was not for him.

He didn't want it either, but that was a little harder to follow through with.

.

Severus stuck close to Lily. No-one said a word to him except Lily and her parents, and for that he was glad. He could see lots of parents with their kids. Helping with the luggage. Introducing people. Saying their farewells.

His parents should have been there too. But they weren't. If it hadn't been for the Evans', he mightn't have even made it to King's Cross.

Lily, sensing his thoughts, squeezed his arm. 'It's okay,' she whispered. 'We're together.'

He brightened at the thought. They were together, and they were going to learn magic, far away from his stupid parents and her stupid sister – who didn't have an ounce of magic at all and had let jealousy get the better of her for it. She was ugly and mean, and that jealousy just made her uglier and meaner.

She wasn't a bit like Lily. And he had to wonder that, if it hadn't been for Lily, would he have even been excited about leaving home?

But with Lily hanging on to his arm, nervous but smiling brightly and chattering a little more than he could handle, he couldn't not be excited. Even if he was bitter he'd had to ask for charity. Even if he was angry his parents hadn't thought it fit to bring him to the train station for his first day at Hogwarts.

His mother's weak excuses still rang in his ears. How she didn't know how to drive – and the debt collectors had taken the car years ago anyhow. How they didn't have enough money for a cab. How it was too far to walk to the train station. How the Evans were going anyway and he could just ride with them.

His pathetic mother…who'd only managed to teach him not to be like her. She'd been proud, once. Or so he assumed when he looked at all the books she'd thought she'd hidden away well enough. She hadn't. He found them easily. And he learnt from them. Then his Hogwarts books that he'd – again – had to go with Lily and her parents to buy.

They'd been nice to him, Mr and Mrs Evans. He hadn't had enough money for everything, even second-hand and crossing off the books his mother owned older editions of, her potion tools and her wand, so they'd given him some money as a "birthday present". He still loathed that, but he had to accept it and they'd tried to soften the blow for him. He appreciated it. And he'd managed to buy a few other interesting (and not entirely savoury so they probably wouldn't be in the Hogwarts library) looking books as well. Lily had done the same – after checking his titles to make sure she wasn't getting the same. 'We'll borrow from each other,' she said happily. 'That way we both can read twice as much.'

And then they'd brought him to the train station and asked him all sorts of innocent questions about Hogwarts and magic – questions he could only answer because he'd read Hogwarts: a History, and Lily could answer just as well now. It wasn't like up till a few months ago when Lily's source of information was Severus. Lily could access all that information now, and more.

The only things Lily didn't have were his mother's old school notes and texts. Some of it was above him: Charms and Transfiguration in particular needed him to establish the magical fundamentals first, and though he often saw her wand collecting dust in a box (it was now in his bag, with her vague permission), he wasn't about to use it without being exactly sure of what he was doing. Potions were just like cooking; the ingredients were only more volatile. The wand on the other hand was sentient and who knew how it would react if he got the motions or the pronunciation of the words even slightly wrong. The images were two dimensional and still. There was no voice speaking. And he'd long given up asking for help from his mother. He could easily get them wrong.

And he wouldn't have minded trading those books and a few years worth of advanced knowledge for a doting family like Lily's. Mr Evans even gave him a one-armed hug; they were saying their farewells now. And Mrs Evans invited him to her home with Lily for the Christmas. He thought he would stay at Hogwarts though. It depended on his parents, really.

They obviously didn't want him to, but some small part of him still wanted to cling to them.

Lily squeezed his arm again. Petunia was standing an arm's length away from them and sneering, but Lily understood. 'Don't worry,' she whispered to him. 'Petunia and your parents will both come around.'

Severus didn't know how she could believe that, after having seen his flimsy mother and his swindling drunkard of a father. Then again, she had Petunia for a sister. He looked at her. She was still pretending she hated all things magical, but Severus could see the longing in her eyes. She wanted to climb on to that train with Lily. But she couldn't.

The train whistle blew. Mrs Evans gave them both a kiss on the cheek and where she'd placed her lips heated up. He fought his fingers' urge to touch that spot in a mix of wonder, embarrassment and anger – wonder because no-one had ever done that before except Lily, embarrassment because it was an adult kissing him on the cheek like a child and they were in public, and anger because it should have been his mother doing that, not Lily's.

But thank goodness there was Lily. He could only imagine coming to King's Cross alone. However he could have managed that. He could only imagine having no-one to send him off. All the stares he would have gotten. The looks of contempt. The pity. Lily and her parents had spared him that. To everyone else, they looked like siblings. And, probably, once they arrived at the school no-one would remember the red haired girl and her black-haired friend that had been mistaken by a passing glance for a brother.

He had his pride, but blending in was more important. Being alone without others realising he was alone. With books. In crowds. In shadows and bushes and the tops of trees where no-body thought to look.

But he'd made a mistake when he'd looked at Lily. A mistake he, for the moment, didn't regret.

He smiled a little at Lily as their parents waved them off. 'Let's find an empty compartment,' he said.

They peeked in all of them. There was at least one bag and so, finally, Lily sighed and picked one at random. 'So long as they're not complete jerks, it'll be fine,' she decided, hoisting her trunk up with Severus' help and putting it on the rank. He put his own one afterwards – with Lily's help. Those trunks really were too heavy for two first years, but no-one came to help them. He could see Mr Evans try though. There was a muggle-repelling charm on the train that kept him from getting too close.

They managed on their own. And they sat down on two adjacent seats and opened the window. Mr and Mrs Evans were waving at them. Lily waved enthusiastically and, after a moment, Severus waved as well. Not as energetically as Lily did. More like a quick wave before he pulled his hand back in. But it was a wave. And it made both adults smile just a little bit wider.

He looked around the platform. He recognised no-body – and there was no reason he should. He knew about pureblood culture thanks to his mother's books, but not of pureblood families and their members. Hogwarts would probably teach him that. Not that he had much use for it. He was a half-blood after all. Filthy muggle father's blood in his veins. Those pureblood lines were magical for generations and proud of that feat.

He tore his eyes away from the platform and back to Lily. She was sitting on her knees, leaning out of the window. 'I'll write loads,' she yelled. 'Don't worry 'Tuna. It'll be like you're there yourself.'

Petunia didn't say anything. But somebody else did. Somebody who'd waited until almost the last minute to get on the train and who was now staring at the two new occupants in his compartment. 'Yo.'

Severus gave him a quick stare, then turned away. There were still a few stragglers on the platform. He saw one with tawny hair looking like he didn't want to board the train. He might have been the last.

Lily just ducked her head in and sat down properly. 'Sorry,' she apologised. 'Everywhere was taken.'

The boy just shrugged and sat down on an opposite seat. 'Hey, I don't mind.' He looked at her again. 'That's some red hair you've got. Puts my mother to shame.'

Lily didn't look flattered in the least.

The boy ran his fingers through his own hair: jet black and sticking out in all directions. 'James Potter,' he said, sticking out a hand. Lily took it. 'I don't know your name.'

Potter. Pureblood then and as deeply entrenched into the light as one got. As if the show of arrogance wasn't enough to validate that.

'Lily Evans.' Lily seemed to recognise the arrogance at least, because her voice had an edge of coolness in it.

James offered his hand to Severus, who stared at it, decided it wasn't worth being impolite especially in front of Lily, and took it. 'Severus Snape,' he said flatly.

James looked him up and down and seemed to struggle to keep his opinion to himself.

He was marginally better than Petunia then. But Severus decided he didn't like the other boy very much.

An awkward silence fell, interrupted by when the wheels began to turn and the train gave a small jerk. Lily resumed her waving out the window and Severus watched as her parents became little specks in the distance. He didn't feel much, but Lily looked a little sad. 'My first time being away from home,' she said quietly. James, who'd pulled out what looked like a Quidditch magazine, probably couldn't hear.

'It'll be fun,' Severus coaxed. He wasn't quite sure how to follow that up though. He was saved from needing to when the door opened again. 'You got room for another one, Potter?'

'Sure…' Potter looked up from his Quidditch magazine.

'Sirius,' the dark haired boy at the door replied, dragging his trunk in. He didn't give his surname, Severus noted. He looked pureblood too. Standing tall, dressed richly and brand new sparkly trunk. There were few in the wizarding world that were rich and all of them were old, noble families. All of them pureblood. 'Stupid Slytherin gits,' he muttered afterward, glaring the way he'd come. There was a shout down the hall – though they couldn't possibly have heard. Sirius just slammed the door. Lily stared. Severus scowled. What was wrong with Slytherin?

'I think I'd go home if I wound up there.' Potter was shaking his head. 'Dark and barmy, the lot of them.'

'And if you had a choice?' Sirius manoeuvred his trunk easily. It must have been one of those spelled ones. Or he'd spelled it himself.

'Gryffindor.' Potter grinned as if he'd gotten the best candy had to offer. 'Where the brave and noble go, of course. All the best people wind up in Gryffindor. Like Dumbledore.'

'That's rubbish.' Severus stared at Lily, who'd spoken up. 'Why should a House placement determine greatness? You make it sound like every good wizard in the world wound up in Gryffindor, and every bad one in Slytherin.'

'May as well be the truth.' James just shrugged. 'And Hufflepuff are a bunch of weak cowards – ' Severus privately agreed; his mother had been a Hufflepuff. He didn't have a clue where the hard-working attribute of her house had gotten to though. 'And Ravenclaws just have their noses in books and don't do anything –'

'Bigot!' Lily snapped, standing up. 'Slytherin is for those who have something to aim for. What's wrong with that? Hufflepuff is for the hard-working and loyal. Ravenclaw is for the ones who want to keep on learning and exploring boundaries.' She was paraphrasing Severus and Hogwarts: A History. But that didn't make her wrong.

'All the supremacists were in Slytherin,' Sirius spoke up. 'I should know; my mother has garden parties with them every other Saturday.' His face breaks into a bitter sneer. 'My family's all been in Slytherin too. But I expect I won't.'

Potter stared at him a moment. 'You're Sirius Black! My parents told me about your –'

'Let's go,' Lily muttered, standing up. Potter and Black didn't pay any attention to her. 'I don't want to listen to this.'

Severus was more than happy to follow her out of the carriage, though it did take a bit of wrestling to get their trunks down again. Surprisingly, neither Potter nor Black paid them any heed. They were deep in conversation about all the worst parts of Slytherin house.

But there were skeletons in every House. Severus had one from Hufflepuff sitting quietly at home.