Felix finished writing his third attempt at the letter and tied it off on Artemis' leg, carrying her to the open window. She hooted once and nipped his finger softly, flying off before he could second-guess himself again.

He sighed, bringing his thumb to his mouth to worry at the nail, eyeing the rejected letters crumpled up in balls on the desk.

The fact of the matter was, he couldn't delay this any longer. He had to head back to the compound, should have really been back at least a week ago, but he couldn't, in good conscience, leave when August hadn't confirmed the rumor yet, not to mention the whole ongoing thing with Red...

He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts, and set the papers on fire with a flick of his wand. With a bright flash of red they caught aflame, burning up until not even ash remained, no trace of them left.

Felix slid his wand back into its holster and stiffened, hackles raised at the sound of the door creaking open. He turned, sharp warning on the tip of his tongue, only to ease back when he saw that it was only one of August's foxes coming through the door, a rolled up piece of paper in its mouth.

He ran a hand through his hair and walked towards it, the fox dancing backward for every step he took, always keeping just out of reach.

"Come on August, you know that I'm really not in the mood. Can you, just-" he lunged forward, but it nimbly darted to the side and jumped on the bed.

"Honestly, sometimes I wonder if you're even aware of how much of a pain you can be, and then I remember; of course you do. Always, whenever you have to tell me something important, you turn it into some type of game...wait, is that what this is?" Felix asked, slowly walking closer to the bed, hands out, ready to catch it, "Did you find something out when you left yesterday?"

The fox didn't answer, shining red eyes intent on his hands, tail motionless behind it.

Felix pounced, almost catching it this time, fingertips grazing its smoky tail, but it was quicker, using the back of his hand as a springboard to shoot itself to the top of one of the bedposts.

He lay on the bed where he fell, not bothering to get back up, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the light.

He stayed like that, completely aware of the pathetic sight he made, bags under his eyes, nails ragged, clothes wrinkled. Felix hated when the weight, the stress, of everything he was trying to do caught up with him like this, but he was thankful that at least it waited until he was away from his pack. This wasn't how they needed to see him, because this? Not very reassuring or inspiring of hope.

A little weight landed on his chest, and he moved his arm to see that the fox was now sitting on him, apparently having decided to take pity on him, and somehow managing to look both smug and contrite.

It dropped the paper and jumped off the bed, slowly making its way out the room. He picked it up and started to unroll it, when, of course, it burst into bluebell flames, which, while harmless to the touch, ate the paper up in seconds.

"I don't know why I expected anything else," he sighed, sitting up.

August obviously had no intention of telling him anything unless they were face to face, so he might as well go back downstairs. He got up and closed the window, locking the door behind him when he walked out the room.

Walking down the stairs, his eyes were immediately drawn to their table, Emily's dyed bright orange hair somehow managing to be louder than her and Red's increasingly convoluted game of exploding snap.

He still hadn't managed to get a more concrete answer out of Red as to why he was changing the color so often, even though he had been coming back to the inn every day that month, but Emily just took it in stride, making a game out of who would show up with the brighter color each day.

Her orange clashed vibrantly with Red's ultraviolet, and between the two of them, he had to say that she was today's winner.

He caught August's eye when he got closer to the table and motioned towards the kitchen, but he was soundly ignored.

"August."

"Yes?" he drawled, looking up at him, lazy smirk firmly in place.

"Can you come?" Felix asked, and something in his voice must have betrayed what he was feeling, because Emily shot him a concerned look, brows furrowed, and Mikhail looked up from his book, question clear in his eyes.

He waved them away with a smile that even he could feel wasn't up to snuff, and turned his attention back to August, though he could still feel the looks Emily kept giving him even as she threw herself more into the game, distracting Red who had noticed the odd mood and was giving him a look of his own.

"Now?"

Felix didn't bother to dignify that with a response.

August let the silence stretch well past awkward before he finally spoke again, though he didn't make any attempt to move out of his relaxed slouch.

"If you insist. And you talk about me having terrible timing. Can't you see that I'm busy?"

Felix looked from the table to August, who had been watching Red and Emily's game after his own continued pretend attempts to teach Red chess with the enchanted board ended up with Red, once again, somehow inspiring the pieces to rise up in revolt against Mikhail, who was the real one trying to teach him, and only one who actually knew how to play, incredulous.

He sat up slowly, shrugging at his look. "Don't you want to see how it ends?"

"Seeing as they're still trying to finish the same game they've been playing since last week, no, not really, and this is more important."

"Hmm," August stood up, sliding a folded slip of black paper onto the table as he did. Felix looked at it, curious, but Mikhail simply took it without comment, continuing to sip his coffee.

They walked into the kitchen, and August touched the wall, revealing the door hidden within it, that opened up, this time, to what looked like a wine cellar.

He gave the rows of polished bottles a passing glance, idly wondering why the door had led them here instead of August's office where it usually did, when the door closing behind them snapped his focus back to the present.

"So were the rumors true?"

"You'll need to be more specific. There are plenty of rumors floating around."

"About the couple the Ministry was getting ready to execute. Did they already take them to Azkaban, or was it just a lie?"

Instead of answering, August walked further into the cellar, bending down to peer at the row of bottles at the bottom of one of the wine racks, and Felix ground his teeth, the taste of blood flooding his mouth, one of his elongated canines nicking the inside of his cheek, his already frayed nerves straining in the continued silence.

"I'm serious August. Kay just owled me about another execution about to take place in Belgium. I had to tell her that, at the most, I'd only be here another week, since I'm still waiting for you to confirm whether or not anything's happening, but even that's pushing it," he walked forward, blocking out the light, shadow eclipsing August were he was knelt down on the floor.

Felix loomed over him, biting back the growl that wanted to replace each word, "and I can only hope after the whole thing with the note upstairs, that, at the very least, you can tell me if it's true or not."

August took one of the bottles out, reading the label and putting it back after a glance. He rose fluidly, walking further in, and knelt down at another wine rack further in the back. He stopped there, still for another long second, before he turned his head towards him, smiling, closed eyes making him look just like one of his foxes.

"This time, the rumors were true," he paused, turning back to the rack, continuing as he started to pull out bottles, giving them a brief once-over before he put them back, "I managed to intercept them on the way there, but not before their executioners had a little fun at their expense."

He stood up, moving to yet another rack, and August watched him, hardly daring to breathe as he waited for his next words.

"They're in the usual room, asleep and recovering, but you'll have to take them back with you tonight. You've already been here longer than you can truly afford to be away."

Felix laughed, a wave of relief rushing through him, and washing away the weight that had been steadily growing stronger each day that passed with him in limbo, waiting for any word from August, the ever-present fear that this time, he'd be too late, laid to rest for the moment.

"Thank the moon. That's such a relief, wow, you have no idea how good it feels every time you tell me that. I'll go check on them soon," he leaned back against one of the racks, tempted to take a bottle, before he decided against it, instead taking a celebratory piece of Honeydukes chocolate out of his pocket, "And you can't really blame me for staying. I was waiting on you, and I've been keeping an eye out on Red."

He swallowed, frowning as his earlier worry rushed in to take the place of the one that just left, "You know, he's been here almost every day this month, staying longer each time, and not once have I seen anyone with him or come to see him, not besides his friend that he's met up with a few times."

Felix started to pace, every worry that he'd been harboring about Red, and trying his best to push to the back of mind, no longer content to be held back, coming to him almost faster than he could voice, "I don't want to make him uncomfortable, so I haven't asked too many questions, but he's never mentioned his family. And you know that's strange. Something's wrong, I know it. I don't know if they're hurting him, I mean, I don't think they are, I haven't seen any bruises or scented any pain on him, but it's clear that they're not taking care of him like they should be. At best they're neglecting him, and I can't just ignore that. What if he needs help, but he doesn't know how to ask for it? Should I ask if he wants to come with me when I go back to Germany? He wouldn't ever be alone, and there are kids around his age that he'd be able to play with...I should, right?" He nodded to himself, steps slowing, "I mean, living in the forest will take some getting used to, but that seems like something he would like, you know? The adventure of it all. He'd be happy there, and-"

"And run the risk of him being bitten?" August asked, cutting him off.

"Everyone in my pack has better self-control than that," he said, listening to August with half an ear, all his attention focused on the scene playing out in his head, full colored like one of those non-magical moving picture movie things.

He could see it so clearly, Red playing with little René, and James and Abigale, and the rest, running through the tree houses, climbing the trees, laughing, happy. And he was so curious about everything, he'd be able to ask Alexandria, who was basically a walking library, all the questions he wanted. Everyone would love him as soon as they met him, and-

"But mistakes happen, even with the most well trained."

"Then I'll stay by his side-" Felix started to say, waving away his concern, but August persisted, and he finally looked over at him, frowning.

"And how long will you be able to keep that up?" August asked, eyebrow raised, head tilted to the side, "You have duties to maintain, responsibilities as Alpha to your entire pack, as a leader, responsibilities," he repeated, pointed, "that you can't ignore in favor of one boy, when the livelihood of those under your protection, and all those you've tasked yourself with saving, like the two waiting for you at this very moment, is at stake if you do.

"Don't forget who you are, who you've changed yourself to be," August said, not unkindly, face open and honest, one of the rare times that he ever was, and Felix made himself really listen to what he was saying, helpless frustration building up as the fantasy, (and that was really all it was,) popped, like a balloon filled with too much air.

"I know, but I can't just leave him. When I leave, I know he won't stop coming here, and who will look out for him? Mikhail's only stayed as long as he has in case I needed any help; he has his own things to take care of as a Knight, and so do you. I-"

"He'll be fine," August said, flippant, opening a hatch in the ground and climbing down the ladder, voice carrying from where he was now encased in, what looked to Felix, like a pit of absolute darkness that even he couldn't see through, "You've spent enough time with him to see that he isn't some clueless child, ready to fall into the hands of evil lurking around every corner. He's smart, resilient, and considering what he is, well, if protection is needed, it will find him."

Felix stared at the pit in disbelief, "What is that even supposed-you know what, that doesn't matter, he's still a kid-"

"And," August added, "he's also going away for the next few months, so you're really worrying for nothing."

"What?"

"He told me yesterday, right before he left, while you were tangled up in that web with Emily."

"That was partially your fault," Felix tried to remind him, though he doubted August was listening, "Where is he going?"

"A trip, perhaps. All he said is that he'd be going away for the foreseeable future," August told him, finally climbing back out, dusty rectangular box cradled in one arm, "He said he was going to tell you and the rest today."

"You-"

"Here, pass this along to Souris." August passed the box off to him as he walked to the door, dusting his hands off, and Felix grabbed hold of it automatically, not wanting to drop it.

He walked through the door, trying to read the front of the box in the light. But even after he dusted it off, he couldn't make any sense of it, other than the vague thought that it was most likely some kind of wine considering where they had just come from.

"Why are you giving him wine? You know that Mikhail can only drink coffee-"

"It obviously isn't for him. It's for Hannibal. Last time we ran into each other he mentioned he was looking for that particular year, and I said I'd pass it along at the next available opportunity."

"Hannibal? Hannibal..." Felix repeated, trying to put a face to the odd name. He kind of vaguely remembered feeling uncomfortable, and snakes... "Oh, right, he was that creepy guy that reminded me of a snake. When did he ask you for this?"

"Let's see," August held his chin, looking off to the side, "about 40 years ago? Give or take a decade."

"40 years? Why did it take you so long to give it to him?"

"I told him I'd find it when I had the time, and Souris said something earlier that reminded me that I hadn't actually ever given it to him, so," August shrugged as if to say that's that, like it was normal to forget to give someone something for over 40 years.

"That's- never mind, stop trying to distract me. Are you sure that he's going on a trip? This isn't you just lying to get me to stop worrying, is it?" Felix asked, grip on the box tightening, trying not to get his hopes up and failing, miserably.

He knew very well that this might just be another one of August's games, but no matter how he tried to push the hope away, it just kept coming back, his mind and his heart at odds with the likely truth.

"If you don't believe me, ask him yourself," August said, handing him a largish square box, elaborate green ribbon tying it closed, "and while you're at it, give him that for me."

"What is it?" He shook it slightly, making whatever was inside bump into each other, though he had to force himself to stop at August's warning look.

"Going away present."

"So he really is going away...wait, why am I giving him your present?"

"Because," he shrugged, "I don't want to make him uncomfortable, but I do want to give him a present, so," he said, gesturing to him.

Felix looked at him, disbelieving, both eyebrows raised, because it was just that type of situation, and tried to hand the present back to him, "So now I have to make him uncomfortable?"

"Compromise."

August took a step back, edges starting to blur, transforming in a matter of seconds.

"What? No-August, you can't just run away from the conversation by turning into a fox!"

"Watch me."

"Do you think that something happened? They've been gone for a while," Harry asked, keeping an eye on Emily's hands, fingertips still stinging from her last move.

"Don't worry love, they're fine. They actually-here they come," Emily pointed to the kitchen entrance, and he turned to look, laughing when August in his fox form came darting out, disappearing into the shadows in the corner, Felix quick on his heels, two big boxes in his arms.

Felix stopped short when August disappeared, muttering something under his breath as he changed tracks and walked back to the table, whatever he said making Emily burst out laughing.

"What did he do to get you so up in arms?"

"Honestly, he was just being his usual self, so I'm not sure why I'm acting like I'm surprised by how things turned out. Here, Mikhail, he said that you're supposed to give that to Hannibal," Felix said, handing Mikhail the long dusty box, leaving him with the big square one with the pretty ribbon.

I wonder if Emily would give Whisper the ribbon if I asked, he thought, watching as Whisper got ready to pounce, tail slowly swishing back and forth. It was a really nice bow, so he'd understand if she said no, but he wasn't so sure about Whisper...

"E-

"And here, Red, this is for you, from August. Are you really going on a trip?"

"Don't you mean Emily?" Harry asked, confused, looking at the box that Felix was still holding out to him, not Emily. "She's right there, sitting across from me."

"Sorry love, but August has never given me a present before, doubt he's going to start now," she pulled at one of the curls on the bow, letting go when it tried to wrap more around her finger.

"He was right...," Felix whispered to himself, frowning, "no, this is for you, not her. August said that it's a going away present. Where are you going?"

Felix was still holding the box out to him, so he took it slowly, waiting for Felix to tell him he was joking, but he never did.

"I, um, I'm going to go see my grandmother who lives in the woods. Are you sure that this is for me?" He turned the box around in his hands, looking at it from every angle, and sure enough, nestled among the more bouncy part of the bow was a tag that said his name, "I don't understand, why would he give me a present? I've ne-, nothing, never mind." He quickly caught himself at the intent look Felix was now giving him.

He had almost slipped up a few times during the month he had spent coming to the inn, and every time he did Felix would give him the same look, like he wanted to say something, but he was trying hard to hold himself back, and while he didn't understand why he never said it, whatever it was, he had a feeling it would be better if he didn't push it.

He flipped the tag over to the other side, and saw that August had written a short message to him. It read: A few items that should come in handy on your coming adventure. P.S Beware of Hunters.

Blaise slumped back against the bench, slowly sliding to the side until his head was resting on his mother's arm. He turned his face into the fabric of her robe, trying to block out all the noise, and she dislodged him, wrapping her arm around his shoulders to draw him in close to her side.

Despite having, in her words "all the opportunity in the world" to work on his occlumency shields because of how many times he had met up with Rapunzel in Diagon last month, he did not, in fact, work on them at all, and he was regretting that now, more than ever. Because while she was shielding him from the brunt of it, she purposefully let some through, on the basis that if he had done what he was supposed to, he would at least be able to easy block out that much.

But then again, it wouldn't matter that 9 times out of 10 he didn't care enough to actually do the things she told him to, if she wasn't forcing him to go to Hogwarts, in the first place.

"It's too loud. Do I really have to go?Can't you just teach me at home? Or get me tutors, like Uncle Gabriel has for Nicole?" he asked, face turned into her side, voice muffled in her robes.

"That's what schools are for, to teach you. And it's a bit late to be saying that now," his mother laughed, bending over to kiss the top of his head.

"Yes, but schools are full of people," he told her, turning his face to the side so that he could eat another truffle, the box in his lap nearly empty, "and it's not like you listened to me all the times I told you before, so what difference does one more time make?"

She sighed, pulling away to look at him, smile fond, "Darling, that is exactly why you're going. You spend far too little time working on your shields, and that's only hurting you," she cupped his cheek, turning him to face her, "but this should be motivation enough for you to finally start."

"I wouldn't have to if I was more like you," Blaise scoffed, pulling away from her.

It didn't matter how many times they had this conversation, because it was always the same. His mother had always been a strong Empath, one of the strongest in their family, so she didn't know what it was like for him, and she never would. She made it sound like it was so easy, and maybe he could try harder, but she was a natural occlumen and legilimen. Her easy, and his easy, weren't the same thing.

She turned towards him and took the box of chocolates, putting it on the bench on her other side. He tried to turn away from her, but she took his hands in hers, slowly tracing over his knuckles with her thumbs.

"Tesoro, look at me," he refused, stubbornly keeping his head turned to the side, and she put gentle fingers under his chin, a suggestion, not forcing him. He had half a mind to ignore her, but he could feel her love wrapping around him, warm, resonating her unsaid please, and eventually he relented, meeting her eyes, the same as his.

They said as much as her emotions did, (the ones she let him feel, anyway,) words unsaid, but heard, felt, all the same.

"It doesn't do to dwell on what is not, in lieu of what is. You are as you are, mio cuore. Perhaps that will change in the future, and you will grow to be more like me, but that is then. Now, you need to work on managing your circumstances as they currently are, with the tools that I've given you," she pulled him closer, kissing his forehead and then touching hers to his, meeting his eyes, "I didn't teach you occlumency and how to meditate just to fill the time, it was to help you."

He closed his eyes and sighed, "I know."

"Good."

The train whistled, signaling that it was time to start boarding, and almost time to leave. His mother kissed his cheek and hugged him, pulling away before he could, sensing that he was approaching his quota of affection for the day.

She shook her arm a little until she could see her wrist, checking the time and handing him back the truffles. He ate one, and watched as she reached a hand into her pocket and pulled out an owl treat, Hermès immediately flying back over to them from where ever she had gone when they had first got there. She perched on the arm of the bench closest to his mother and accepted it gladly, grooming herself when she finished eating it.

"It's about time for you to be getting on the train. Did Rapunzel tell you when his parents would be bringing him?" she asked, looking around the platform, not knowing that even if he was here, she wouldn't be able to see him, "You should have asked him if he wanted to come along with us."

Blaise stopped, the second to last truffle an inch from his lips. He put it in his mouth and chewed slowly, frowning as he tried to figure out how to tell his mother that he wasn't sure Rapunzel actually had any parents, knowing how she was sure to react, before deciding to just say it.

"I don't think he has any."

"Hmm?" She looked over at him, attention focused.

He fiddled with one of the empty truffle wrappers, putting into words for the first time the worry that had been needling at him all throughout August, "Parents. I don't...I don't think he has any. I think he's alone."

"And why is that?" she asked, frowning.

Her shields were up, like always, but as he tried to get a read on her to see what she was feeling, he found himself wishing for the first time that they weren't.

"Every time we met up in Diagon, it was always just him, him and his familiar, Whisper. He never came with anyone, and he didn't leave with anyone, and he's never mentioned anyone," he explained, crumpling the wrapper up into a little ball.

He wasn't used to worrying about, really, anyone besides his mother, so he didn't know how to deal with the uneasiness that crept up on him every time he left Rapunzel, alone, in Diagon when it was time for him to leave. He had started owling him on the days he wasn't feeling up to meeting up with him, but that only helped a little when he was never able to bring himself to just, just ask if what he was thinking was right, if Rapunzel really was alone like it seemed.

His mother sighed heavily, closing her eyes and shaking her head slowly. She took his hand and held it, filtering calm directly to him, and despite how much he hated the few times she had done this before, and she knew he did, he let her, calm settling over him like a blanket, his mind easing with it.

"That is sometimes the way of things, that terrible misfortune should befall good people," she told him, looking down at their joined hands, "Life doesn't care about who you are, the things you've done, it simply happens as it will," she finished, and Blaise had a feeling she was talking about more than just Rapunzel, his father's absence, his death, making her words heavy with their weight.

"But darling, everyone deserves to have someone," she said brightly, stealing the last truffle and breaking the tension, "And it is fate which has brought us together, so that we might fill out two of his empty spaces, and be someone's to him."

He snorted, eyeing the now empty box longingly as he closed it, appreciating the abrupt change in mood, even if he knew it wasn't completely real.

"What are you talking about?"

"Oh? Do you think that I'm too old to be his friend too?" She asked, mock-offended, hand on her chest and eyebrow raised, "Friends come in many forms, you know, and he's a sweet boy, why wouldn't I want to be his friend?"

"How would you know? You only met him the one time."

"True, but the first impression you get of someone is usually the right one," she told him, vanishing the box with a flick of her wand, "To come upon someone before they think to hide is one of the only ways to get an honest read on them, remember? Life lesson-"

"Number 14, yes, I remember," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Good. But besides that, you're happier when you come back from seeing him, and that is reason enough for me to like him."

She had him there.

"He...is a good friend. When we met, it wasn't like meeting a stranger. I don't know why, but it's like we already know each other. He feels, familiar, and it's easy to be around him. He isn't loud," Blaise told her, trying to describe the odd feeling of familiarity that persisted, even now, making him feel more and more like he was reconnecting with, with a long lost cousin or something, not just a friend that he hadn't seen in a while (not that he had any), and definitely not a stranger.

"Really," his mother hummed, eyeing him thoughtfully as she spoke, "I had a friend like that when I was younger. We met by chance, but it was like reuniting with a long missed companion."

She looked off into the distance, eyes far away as she tapped a finger against her mouth, thinking, remembering.

"Yes, Siri-, no." she stopped herself mid-name, looking back at him, expression strange, "Time is a curious thing, darling. Given enough of it and distance, even the most familiar faces can become no more known than a stranger's."

"You think you know someone," she murmured, smile sad and bittersweet, "but then it turns out that you truly never knew them at all."

"Are-"

"Blaise!"

Rapunzel, or rather, someone he was pretty sure was supposed to be Rapunzel, walked up to them, but considering he now had red hair, glasses, brown eyes and freckles, Blaise felt that his confusion was completely justified.

And he didn't have to look at his mother to know she was even more surprised than he was, because while he had gotten used to Rapunzel showing up with a different hair color every time they met, that wasn't this.

"Hey. There are so many people here, I wasn't sure I'd be able to find you, but Whisper managed to save the day, right? Good job," Probably-Rapunzel said happily, kissing Whisper on the head, seemingly oblivious to the looks he knew the both of them were giving him, "Oh! Hello Ms. Zabini, it's nice to see you again. Do...are you okay? Why are you looking at me like that?" Definitely-Probably-Rapunzel asked, looking at him like he was the odd one out.

"Oh my, don't you look different," his mother said, eyes wide, all traces of the odd mood she had been in just moments before completely blown away by Most-Definitely-Probably-Rapunzel's arrival.

"Do you really think so?" Ok-it-is-Rapunzel asked, almost bouncing from how excited he suddenly was, "Good, good," he said, nodding to himself, before looking back at them with a bright grin, " I was pretty sure that all of this was good enough, but I needed someone else's opinion to make sure it passed the test."

"Well," his mother said, looking him up and down critically, "if your aim was to look like someone else, it certainly does. And please, call me Serafina."

At that moment, Blaise decided that trying to question what was going on any further was probably more trouble than it, and Rapunzel's no doubt vague answers, was worth, and started getting his things together.

It had become clear very early into them hanging out together that when it came to Rapunzel, it was easier, not to mention more fun, to just follow his flow and fall into step with him and whatever he was doing, the Incident with the fire salamanders just last week more than proof enough of that.

The train whistled again as he was trying to convince Hermès to get back into her cage, cutting Rapunzel and his mother's conversation about Whisper that was taking place in Italian short, Rapunzel's accent noticeably better since he had started helping him.

We have to leave now if we're going to get a compartment to ourselves, he thought, finally latching the cage closed, Hermès giving him a baleful look. I can't put into words how much I'm not looking forward to the headache though.

The second they got on the train he'd be out of range of his mother's protection, and his head hurt just thinking about how much worse it was going to be from normal.

"I can't believe it's time already," his mother said, standing up and opening the bag she had been carrying and refused to let him look inside of, "don't forget that I'm doing those concerts in France this week. I should be home by next week, and I'll owl you then, but call me on the mirror whenever you want."

Out of the bag, she pulled out two dark purple pouches that he instantly recognized, the name of his favorite chocolatier boutique in France written in gold on their fronts.

"Here, I got the two of you a little present," she said, handing one to him which he eagerly took, opening it to see what was inside, "and this one's for you, Rapunzel," she added, holding the other out to Rapunzel, who stared at her, confused.

"No, no, it's alright, you don't have to give me anything, you should give it to Blaise," Rapunzel insisted, taking a step back, hands urging the bag away from him.

His mother, however, wasn't about to take no for an answer, not after what he told her, the fact that Rapunzel had arrived alone further proof that he was right.

"I don't have too, no, but I want to," she said gently, projecting an aura of calm that Blaise could already see out of the corner of his eye was having an effect, Rapunzel's shoulders easing down, before he focused his attention back on the bag, listening to them with half an ear, "I bought this one for you to enjoy on the trip to the school."

"Really? But, why? I mean, thank you, but are you sure?"

"I am. And little act..s," she trailed off, falling silent.

Should I have the..., Blaise dropped the bag, and nearly fell down with it, the strength of the headache suddenly pounding at his temples making it feel like his head was about to split open.

What is...? I can hardly think, this doesn't, ugh, he cradled his head in both hands, wave after wave of noise, of emotions hitting him, and he realized in a burst of sudden clarity that sent a cold rush of horror through him that this could only be happening because his mother's shields had failed, but that didn't happen. It was impossible. In all the years he had been alive, her shields had never fallen, not once.

He struggled to open his eyes, and the first thing he saw didn't make any sense, because it looked like, was Rapunzel crying?

"What, ow, what happened? Why are you crying?" he asked, but it didn't seem like Rapunzel or his mother heard him.

It was like they were frozen in place, eyes locked on each other, his mother cradling one of Rapunzel's hands, still holding the top of the bag that she placed in his palm.

Blaise grit his teeth, trying to find the focus to talk again, and just like that the pain was gone, leaving as suddenly as it had come, the abrupt absence leaving him weak. He stumbled, falling to sit on the bench. He caught his breath, wiping the sweat from off his forehead as he looked up, his mother and Rapunzel finally unfreezing.

"I, I, you're," Rapunzel stumbled over his words, sounding lost, and his mother wasn't any better, looking dazed, and, and nothing like he had ever seen her like before, "what is, why am I crying?" he touched his face, looking at his wet fingertips like he didn't know what they were, scrubbing the rest of the tears away with his sleeve.

"Mother, what's going on? What just happened?" she finally snapped out of it at his question, looking, not normal, but more like her regular self as she hesitated, hands hovering in the air around Rapunzel, before she turned away, rushing over to him.

"Oh tesoro, I'm so sorry. Are you all right? What do you need?" she asked, hands fluttering around his head, but the train let out one final whistle before he could answer, the conductor announcing final call for all passengers.

"Merde," she sighed, running a hand over her face, frazzled, "the two of you need to get on the train, now. Come on," she picked up Hermès in her cage and ushered the two of them forward.

Blaise picked up his fallen candy and grabbed his trunk, sticking close to Rapunzel, who still seemed a little out of it, keeping a close eye on him and his mother, possibilities racing through his mind as he tried to figure out what just happened.

Neither of them looked hurt, but why had her shields fallen? He could kind of explain away Rapunzel crying on his mother being a lot sadder than she looked, and projecting that on him when she touched his hand, but even that didn't really make sense, because he knew her control was better than that.

So what in the world happened just now?

He was brought out of his thoughts when they emerged on the other side of the crowd, in front of one of the doors that didn't have people rushing in and out of them.

"Okay, now the two of-where did he go?" His mother asked, looking around, Blaise looked with her, but Rapunzel was nowhere in sight. He felt around in the air next to him, but there was nothing, and with all the people around them, trying to feel him out was a lost cause.

"He probably just got on the train first," Blaise put the pouch in his pocket and took Hermès from her, hoping that that was actually what had happened.

"Okay. Be safe and stay together, and remember, you have to practice. I love you, and I'll call you later tonight," she kissed him on the forehead and on both cheeks, and even though she was looking right at him, he could tell that she was thinking about something, her mind somewhere else.

"I know. What happened earlier?" he asked, searching her eyes, but she just smiled and kissed his forehead again, face not betraying what she was thinking.

"Later."

He stepped into the train and continued to watch her as she waved goodbye, only turning away when a group of people walked by, obstructing her from view.

"I'll take her," Rapunzel said, appearing suddenly as soon as he turned around.

Blaise handed him Hermès, and followed behind as he walked towards the back of the train, trying to prepare himself for when he left his mother's range, "Thanks. Where were you?"

"Getting us a place to sit," he stopped in front of one of the doors lining the narrow walkway and slid it open, revealing Whisper who was on the floor, playing with a toy mouse that squeaked as it tried to run away from him.

Rapunzel walked inside and placed Hermès' cage on the windowsill, opening it so that she could settle on the perch by the wall, and Blaise took a deep breath, slowly inching his way inside, waiting for the pain to start.

Okay, maybe earlier was just-no, there it is, he didn't make it more than maybe 4 steps in when it hit him and he had to sit down, letting his trunk fall to the floor.

Happiness and fear, excitement and sadness, and more, a chaotic mix of emotion pressed down on him, drowning everything else out.

I really should have listened to her. It's not like I didn't know I wouldn't always be with her, Blaise dug his palms into his eyes, trying to let pain distract pain, when he felt hands on top of his head, Rapunzel taking the pain away like he had the day that they met.

"Is that better?" Rapunzel asked after he was done, sitting down next to him.

Blaise nodded. He could still feel everything, but at least now, it didn't hurt. "Thanks, but what about you? Are you okay? Why were you crying earlier?" he asked, turning to face him.

Rapunzel shrugged, fiddling with the strings on the candy pouch, reminding Blaise to pull out his own. "I'm fine, and I don't know, it was, weird. I didn't even realize I was crying, and I don't know why I was, either," he reached into the bag and pulled out a chocolate macaroon, looking it over before he opened it, "I felt like I-no, I know that I know your mom, but that's impossible, right?"

"I, yeah, it is," Blaise said, not sure what else to do in response to how conflicted Rapunzel looked.

Rapunzel brought the macaroon to his mouth and took a small bite, face easing into a look of surprised delight at the taste, "I think it just happened because I'm tired. I haven't slept at all since the day before yesterday, so that must be it. I probably just need to take a nap."

"Yeah, maybe."

Blaise didn't think that not sleeping had anything to do with it, but since he didn't have a better explanation, that would have to do.

And I guess he really was tired, he thought, watching Rapunzel start to nod off against the window maybe 30 minutes later. Blaise nudged at him until he was lying curled up on the seat, head pillowed on his arm.

He got up to lock the door and sat back down, relaxing back once he felt one of Rapunzel's feet spread out, pressing against him, the connection and his dreaming mind acting as a buffer against everyone else.

Closing his eyes, he reached into the pouch and took out a candy. He didn't know how long it would take to get to the school, but considering everything it was probably best if he at least tried to meditate.

But first things first, because this chocolate won't eat itself.

The air from the open windows was sweet, gauzy curtains fluttering gently in the nighttime breeze, the clear sky doing nothing to hide the full moon, its light flooding in and dyeing everything a pale blue.

She ran the brush through her hair one last time, setting it down with a small clink, beckoning you closer, hand luminous in the light, radiating the moon's love.

Where you were becoming of the Sun, in name, and heart, and dreams, she was a true Daughter of the Moon, Artemis in her every move.

She sat you on her lap and sang you to dreams with a lullaby, the sweet smell of Jasmine following you down.

"...zel."

"...punzel."

Harry turned away from the hand at his shoulder, burrowing his head further into the cushion. He was in his bed this time, so why was Pippy-

"Rapunzel, wake up. The train's starting to slow down," Blaise said, shaking him again.

Train? What train? Harry sat up and rubbed at his eyes, trying to get rid of the hot, gritty feeling in them, And why is Blaise in my...oh! That's right, Hogwarts, we're going to Hogwarts, he remembered, opening his eyes.

Blaise was sitting next to him, and Whisper was curled up on the windowsill, asleep, the window behind him showing that it was nighttime now, the moon just barely visible through the clouds.

"We're at the school?"

"Almost," Blaise said, sitting back, "There was an announcement that we'd be there in about ten minutes."

Harry felt around his pockets until he found his glasses and slipped them back on, looking at his reflection in the window, still not used to the face looking back.

Well, I have only looked like this since this morning, so I guess that's understandable, he flipped the glasses up and down, watching his eyes change from green to brown, and he could see from the reflection that Blaise was watching him too, eyes narrowed.

"So, is there an actual reason for all this? Or was this another why not decision?" he asked, looking him up and down, indicating his whole disguise.

"There is a reason," Harry said, turning to face him.

This was actually the perfect opportunity to finally tell him the truth (though this was mostly due to the fact that Blaise was going to find out soon anyway.)

"Okay, so, I know this is going to come as a surprise, but my name isn't actually Rapunzel-"

"Wow. How shocking," Blaise deadpanned.

"-it's Harry."

"Are you serious? All of this because your name is Harry?"

"No, all of this is because it's Harry Potter," he said, correcting him.

"That still...wait, that sounds familiar. Potter, Potter, Harry Pott...isn't that the name of the savior? The Boy-Who-Lived? That's you?"

"Kind of?" he shrugged, reaching out to pick up Whisper who had woken up and just finished stretching, "That is my name, but all the rest of that hero stuff has nothing to do with me."

"Okay," Blaise said, and Harry was happy to see that he wasn't making a big deal out of it, "but what does that have to do with you changing how you look? And why have you been acting like you don't know anything about the magical world?"

"I'm not acting. I really am new to everything. My name wasn't real, but me living trapped in a tower is, mostly true. And if everyone thinks this is what I look like now, they won't be able to find me later, when I look how I really do," he said, turning to look in the window again.

It was amazing how just changing up a few things made him look so different, but what was even more amazing was that besides the hair color, which he had chosen on his own,(after cycling through more colors than he knew existed, all month. His poor tongue would never forgive him. But on the bright side, now that he chose a color, he would only have to drink the potion once a month to keep it) he had August and his surprise gift to thank for the rest.

He didn't know how August managed to figure out that he would need the color changing glasses and the magic makeup marker, or the other things he gave him, but he was happy that he did.

Blaise gave him a look that seemed to say, 'that's just ridiculous enough to be believable', which told him that his almost-lying, truth-if-you-squint skills were improving, "I...guess that makes sense. But I still don't understand. If you're going to all this effort to hide yourself, why go to Hogwarts at all?" he asked, to which there was only one answer he could give.

"Because, the evil wizard that trapped me in the tower is here, and I have to ask him some questions."

"Are you, no, you are." Blaise stared at him in silence for a few seconds, before he shrugged shaking his head, "Okay, sure, why not."

The train finally came to a stop, and a voice sounded out reminding the students to leave their trunks on the train, and for those with owls to leave them secured in their cages. Harry took his trunk out of his pocket and set it on the floor, letting it grow back to its original size.

Harry and Blaise were already dressed in their robes, so after Blaise coaxed Hermès back into her cage, he picked Whisper up, letting him climb onto his shoulders.

"Are you ready?" he asked, slipping the candy bag into his pocket.

"Since staying on the train and riding it back home isn't an option, I guess I'm as ready as I'll ever be," Blaise said, fixing their trunks so that they were standing together against the wall.

Harry figured that counted as a yes, so he opened the door, and they followed the flood of students exiting the train.

They came out onto a station that was dimly lit, in what looked like a town, and were soon directed down a dark dirt road lined by unlit houses by the conductor, which led them towards a large, black lake, little boats dotting the shoreline, moving slightly in the water.

"Firs' years over here, no more than three to a boat!" A voice suddenly boomed, and Harry followed it see that it belonged to a large man that towered over everyone, great bushy beard almost swallowing up his mouth. He was waving his arms to get their attention, and gesturing over towards the little boats

"Everyone else towards the carriages!" The man announced next, gesturing with one of his large hands to a path that ran alongside the lake.

Waiting on the path were large black carriages, which were attached to the oddest looking horses that he had ever seen.

Their skin was a shiny black that looked almost leathery, the bones in their body and their large black wings standing out sharply. From what he could see, their eyes looked white, and their heads didn't look much like a horse's head at all. In fact, if he had to choose what it did look like, he would have to say that it looked more like a dragon's, (and the fact that he could now say that, and actually mean it, was incredible!) or a bird, because of the beak.

He strained his neck, trying to get a closer look at the ones nearest to him, when one of them turned their head in his direction, and for a second, he could have sworn that it was looking at him.

"Okay, good. I see a boat that's still free. We should be able to get it before someone else does."

He really wanted to go over there to look at them closer, and maybe touch one if it let him. Would its skin feel scaly, like a snake (at least how he imagined a snake might feel, he had yet to actually meet one) or leathery, like a belt? Or maybe it would be soft, like a suede-

"Hey, are you listening?" Blaise asked, tugging on his hand, "What are you-what are those?"

"They look like dragon horses," the one that looked at him shook its head and stretched its long, bat-like wings up in the air, before it settled them back against its back, "Look! They have wings. That's so cool, come on, if we hurry we can probably get a closer look before they leave."

"You're right, we should-" Blaise stopped himself, blinking fast and frowning as he shook his head, looking down at their clasped hands, muttering something under his breath about downsides, "What I meant to say was no. I'm not going near those things, they look creepy. Come on, we need to go get that boat I saw before someone else gets it. And before you manage to make us go over there anyway..."

"But I wanted to see one up close..." he watched, longingly, as they started to leave.

"They're going up to the school right? That means they probably live close by, you'll see them later. He said no more than three to a boat, so we'll be fine with just the two of us", Blaise said, pulling him towards the boat, "and if someone else tries to shove their way on, well, I have no problem with shoving them back. Into the lake, preferably."

The boat rocked a bit when they got on, but it settled soon after they actually sat down, gently rocking in the soft waves made by the other boats, sending off small ripples in the dark water.

Harry watched them as all the other boats around them were soon filled up, and then they were off, the boats moving by themselves silently in the water, the quiet of the night broken by the excited chatter filling the air.

The talking quickly changed to gasps of amazement when they actually caught sight of the school, not that Harry heard them, because as soon as they got close enough, the thing that stole his breath and full attention was not the sight of the school, though it was beautiful, bright and lit up like a beacon calling them closer, but the feel of it.

The magic of the school was warm and welcoming, an all-encompassing feeling that made him feel safe, while at the same time setting his skin to buzzing with a sudden sense of exhilaration.

"It's amazing..." Harry zoned back into his surroundings when the boat stopped, bumping against the shoreline on the other side, the entrance to the castle looming up above down another dirt path.

When they got off the boats they were once again met by someone, but this time it was a woman in dark green robes wearing a black witch's hat, and glasses.

"Hello students, and welcome to Hogwarts. I am the deputy headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, and you may address me as Professor McGonagall. Now, if you all would please follow me, I'll be escorting all of you to the castle to be sorted." The professor said, tone stern, though the small smile on her face was plain to see, which helped to soften her words.

Harry recognized her name from his letter, and seeing as she was the deputy headmistress, and Dumbledore was the headmaster, there was no doubt in his mind that the two were probably close, so he made a note to himself to be careful around her.

He nodded his head to himself, determined. No matter how amazing everything was, he couldn't forget that Dumbledore was here, and that he was in charge.

That meant that as long as he was here, and he still didn't have answers to his questions, there was no such thing as too careful.

The professor led them through the gates and up the path to the front doors of the castle, which opened at their approach, letting them into a brightly lit hallway, two more large doors waiting for them at the end.

"Up ahead is the Great Hall, which also serves as the dining hall, and where the sorting will take place. Now," she clapped her hands together loudly, drawing everyone's attention, "seeing as you all are about to make your first impression on the staff, and your fellow students, it would be in your best interest to smarten up as much as you are able before we go in." McGonagall said, looking intently at a boy in the front as she did, who hastily wiped at his face when he noticed her eyes on him.

All around Harry the other first years were straightening out their robes, and fixing their hair, talking to the person closest to them about what to expect.

He spotted Draco off to the side, surrounded by a small group of students, though it seemed like he was more interested in looking around for someone, than whatever they were saying.

Harry had yet to see the houses that were supposed to tell him who he was that Draco's father said was supposed to be here, and he could only hope that Draco saw that they weren't here either, and that he didn't think the houses were hiding around the corner, waiting to sneak up on them.

But he hadn't seen the whole school yet, so who knew?

At his side, Blaise seemed unconcerned with everything that was happening, and Harry himself simply made sure that Whisper was comfortable in his position wrapped around his shoulders, though he couldn't help but what wonder what McGonagall meant by saying they were about to be sorted, as if they were pieces of laundry about to be separated by color.

They were soon interrupted by a group of transparent people that passed through the group as if they weren't even there, leaving shivering students in their wake.

Harry heard some of the students complaining about how the ghosts should know better than to just pass through people like that, giving him his answer as to what they were.

Everyone stopped until they left, and after a few minutes of awkward silence passed, McGonagall cleared her throat and announced that they would be proceeding forward now.

The second set of doors opened as they approached them, setting free the sound of hundreds of voices, all talking at once, belonging to the rest of the students who were seated at four long tables, glittering golden plates and cups in front of them.

As soon as he walked through the doors, his attention was captured by the hundreds of lit candles floating in the air, but what really amazed him was the ceiling, which was somehow a replica of the night sky outside, the moon and stars shining down on them, unobscured by the clouds.

And at the very front of the hall, seated at a table that placed them above everyone else in the room, were who could only be the rest of the professors, and seated directly in the middle, in a throne-like chair, was Albus Dumbledore.

His eyes seemed to be searching the crowd of first years for someone, and he would bet anything that Dumbledore was looking for him. Finally seeing him in person was deceptive, since he looked more like someone's grandfather, and not like someone who seemed to have made it his mission in life to keep him unhappy, for reasons known only to him.

For now, Harry thought, glaring up at him.

Seeing Dumbledore brought Harry's mood down, and he came to a stop, petting Whisper, the doors closing behind him with a bang, not as happy as when he first walked inside.

His attention was brought back up to the front when McGonagall separated from their group, walking to the front of the hall, coming to a stop next to an old looking stool, which had what looked like a large, dark brown wizards hat placed on top of it.

Then all of a sudden, the unexpected happened.

The hat stood tall by itself, its folds coming together to form what passed for eyes on a hat, and then, strangest of all, the brim rippled, becoming a mouth, and the hat started to sing.

"You may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry

Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true

And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

If you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folks use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The sorting hat finished its song to a round of applause, which quieted down quickly with one look from McGonagall, who cleared her throat sharply to get everyone's attention, different colored banners unfurling from the ceiling over each table.

She pulled a paper out of her pocket and let go of it in the air, making it unroll and float in the air in front of her with a flick of her wand.

She looked at the paper, before calling out clearly, "Hannah Abbot!" Once she did, a blond girl standing at the front of the group of first years hesitantly stepped forward, before quickly making her way towards the front once the professor gestured for her to come.

McGonagall picked the sorting hat up, and told her to sit, placing the hat on her head after she did. She wasn't sitting there for more than a moment, before the hat loudly called out, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

After it did, table with the yellow and black banner clapped loudly, and Hannah Abbot hurried over to sit with them.

So that's what she meant by us being sorted, Harry thought, watching as she called the next person's name, but I still don't see how houses have anything to do with a magical singing hat, or how getting told what table to sit at has to do with who you are.

He looked up at the banners again, and saw that there were animals on them. Maybe that was how they got sorted, according to what animal they liked the most out of the four.

Harry felt his anticipation build as they got closer and closer to the P's, and the whole hall seemed to be feeling the same way, as things seemed to get quieter and quieter the closer they got to his name.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath, as with a straightening of her spine, McGonagall called out in a clear, ringing voice, "Harry Potter!"

Blaise squeezed his hand, letting go with a nod, silently telling him that everything would be alright, and Harry took a deep breath, bringing Whisper down to hold in his arms as he walked forward.

Everyone in the great hall seemed to be straining their heads towards where all the first years were gathered, and Harry made his way to the front amidst confused whispers as to where he could be, after a few seconds had passed with seemingly no movement from the tiny group of remaining first years.

Harry walked over to the stool, and carefully sat on top of it, a few people sitting at the front of the tables closest to him looking in his direction as he did, because of the small noise the stool made.

McGonagall seemed to be getting ready to call out his name again, so he spoke up before she could, causing her to take a step back in surprise.

Harry kept his face as straight as he could, though he was laughing on the inside at the look on her face.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, and a sudden hush fell over the entire hall as they finally noticed him sitting on the stool.

McGonagall blinked rapidly for a moment, before clearing her throat. "Harry Potter?" She asked, her voice wavering, and Harry simply nodded yes.

She took a second to gather herself, before moving to place the hat on his head, frowning slightly as she looked him over.

"Right, I don't know how I could have missed you, especially when you look just like..." she trailed off, placing the hat gently on his head, and the last thing that Harry saw as the brim of the hat fell over his eyes and to the bridge of his nose, was the excited and surprised faces of nearly everyone in the great hall, before his vision was consumed by the soft black of the inside of the hat.

.

.

.

The Sorting Hat experienced something that it rarely ever did when it was placed upon the head of the latest student to be sorted. And that something was a block, a wall, a barrier, whatever one chose to call it. Simply put, it wasn't able to reach the student's mind, some rather strong shields keeping it firmly out.

And what shields they were! The hat couldn't detect a single weak spot, and could only imagine what sort of mind lay beneath them.

It is rather wise of you to have your mind shielded so, young student, but you need not fear any of your thoughts leaving the comfort of your mind. I am bound by a vow of secrecy to never reveal any of what is learned during my time upon your head. I am the sorting hat, and I simply need access into your mind for a bit, so that I can sort you into your house, the Sorting Hat explained to the student.

All that answered its words, however, was an echoing silence, and it was just about to repeat its request when it was struck by an unceasing feeling of pressure, accompanied by the strangest impression of hissing.

A sense of crushing darkness soon joined in, before everything suddenly let up, the feeling of the mind he was in changing completely, a now almost tangible sense of curiosity being felt, accompanied by the voice of a young boy.

.

.

.

Hmm, that's quite a mind you have there. A voice spoke directly inside his mind, and Harry jumped, startled, before he recognized the voice as that of the sorting hat.

Thank you, he told it, and the hat moved, settling itself more comfortably on his head, before speaking again.

It's nothing to be thanked, it's just a fact. You have an interesting head on your shoulders...now, where to put you?

Well, I've never met any of the animals on the banner, so it doesn't really matter to me.

I'm afraid that animals have very little to do with it.

Now, hmm, yes, yes. You know, many don't seem to realize that it is exceedingly rare to find a person with only traits of one house, and none of another. You, for instance, seem rather suited to Slytherin and Ravenclaw.

Well, I don't have a preference, so it's really up to you.

Really! Well, let's see, let's see. Hmm, it takes cunning and a rather ambitious drive to accomplish all that you have up to this point, and you have quite the thirst for knowledge, and a sincere love of learning, which leaves me inclined to name Ravenclaw as your house, as you're likely to find like-minded individuals there.

Though even Hufflepuff seems a viable option, considering how hard working you've been towards accomplishing your goals. Or perhaps even Gryffindor, for the bravery you possessed to move forward, despite not knowing what may lay ahead.

You do make some very good points, but that still doesn't answer the question of where you're going to put me, Mr. Hat.

True. Well then, taking another look at your mind, I think that you better be-

Wait!

Yes?

Were you always able to talk? Or did someone make you?

Ha! What a wonderful question, from a very bright mind. I once rested upon the head of one of the founders of Hogwarts, Godric Gryffindor, and it was he, along with the rest of the founders, who enchanted me and brought me to life for the sole purpose of sorting each student. A duty which I have thus maintained since I was created nigh on 1000 years ago.

Wow, that's amazing. Do you think that I'd be able to make a talking hat too?

Certainly! Though I must say, I am more than a mere talking hat. But never forget young wizard, that the foundation of all magic is Belief. So with an abundance of that, hard work, and knowledge, anything is possible.

Now, we mustn't dally any further. Though it was wonderful getting to know you, the sorting ceremony is not yet over. So without further ado-

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat yelled out for everyone to hear.

The hall fell into a dead silence at the announcement, before soft applause started from the table with the blue and bronze banner, gradually getting louder as the seconds passed by.

Harry tugged the hat off of his head and handed it over to the professor, who seemed frozen in place. He gently placed the hat in her outstretched hands and hopped off the stool, making his way to the table that was still clapping for him, though the table as a whole seemed unsure about where to look, seeing as, while they knew he was just on the stool, they now couldn't see him.

He quietly made his way over to where he had seen the other first years sit down, and claimed an empty seat next to one of his year mates amongst the confused muttering of what seemed to be the entire great hall.

There was a few moments more of this before McGonagall cleared her throat and called for quiet in the great hall, reading out the next name on the list.

Sitting at his table, waiting to see where Blaise would be sorted, Harry was forced to take into account something that he hadn't realized would be an issue.

There was barely two hands width of space between where he was sitting at the end of the bench, and the other first years, and even though they couldn't see him, it was only a matter of time before one of them bumped into him.

And it was obvious from how every eye in the great hall had focused on him during his sorting that his sudden disappearance wouldn't go unnoticed, especially not from Dumbledore.

He didn't think he could turn off his shadow power, not that he wanted to, but the teachers, Dumbledore, and more than likely the other students would be asking questions about why they could see him one moment, and then he was gone the next.

So, he had two options. He could either make sure he was always making some kind of noise, so that he was always visible, or he could…take a page out of August's book, and just mess with everyone since that would be more fun.

He was leaning towards the second option.

I mean, sure they can ask me all the questions they want, but it's not like I'm obligated to answer them, tell the truth, or say anything at all, actually, if I don't feel like it. I'll just pretend like I have no idea about what they're talking about, and act like I don't notice anything strange. He covered his mouth, laughing as he imagined himself with fox ears and a tail like August.

After all, they couldn't force him to admit the truth about something he seemingly had no knowledge about, could they?

Everyone in the great hall continued to only be focused on him, and he idly listened to all the rumors and speculations that were starting up about what had just happened, and where has he been all these years, petting Whisper as we watched Blaise walk past him and to the sorting hat.

The hat was on his head for barely a second before it shouted out Slytherin, and Harry got ready to clap, hoping that the noise from the Slytherin table would be loud enough to cover him, but it never came. The announcement was met with no applause, and when he looked over to see what was wrong, he was met with the sight of everyone there looking away and talking to each other, acting like Blaise didn't just get sorted.

Blaise, however, just took it in stride, like he expected it, walking over to the table and taking a seat, ignoring everyone else as much as they were ignoring him, though Harry couldn't think of a single reason why they were.

After the sorting was over, Dumbledore stood up, and Harry felt a little burst of satisfaction when he looked over the Ravenclaw table, trying to find him, before he proceeded to talk about avoiding a forbidden forest, and a corridor on the third floor if they didn't want to die, which Harry didn't understand.

What was the point of having places in and near a school that were so dangerous you had to warn people to stay away from it? Wouldn't it be smarter to just not have those places in the first place? And if you were going to have them, not warn people to stay away from them? Because in his experience, people (Dudley) always seemed to want to do something the more you told them not to do it.

I guess that's just more evidence that something really is wrong with him, but even as he thought that, he couldn't quite ignore the little voice in his head telling him to go investigate.

Dumbledore then ended his speech by saying a few nonsense words, after which all the tables instantly filled up with food and drinks, the tables nearly groaning beneath their weight.

After everyone was done eating, Dumbledore led a song that he didn't even pretend to join in on, after which he, along with the rest of the Ravenclaw's, were led through the school to one of the castle's towers, which was apparently where their dorm was.

They traveled up five flights of stairs that moved, changing directions even as they walked up them, until they finally arrived at a spiral staircase, at the top of which was a large, round, dark blue door, that had no keyhole or doorknob, but a large, bronze, eagle head knocker attached to it.

"Okay, listen up first years. My name is Penelope Clearwater, and I'm one of the prefects for Ravenclaw. Now, the only way to get into Ravenclaw tower is by giving the correct answer to a riddle asked by our door guardian, the eagle head knocker. Would any of you like to volunteer to go first, and prove that you have a mind befitting the Ravenclaw name?" Penelope asked, looking at the small group of first years at the front.

There was silence before one of the boys next to him walked forward, his head held high.

"Well done," she smiled, "what's your name?"

"Michael Corner."

"Ok Michael, now all you have to do is walk up to the knocker, and ask it for a riddle, easy as that."

Michael, taking her words to heart, walked up to the door and did just that.

The eyes of the eagle blinked a few times before it spoke in a smooth, low voice,

I am always coming, but never arrive.

What am I?

Michael looked to the side, thinking, looking back up at the knocker after a few minutes had passed.

"Are you tomorrow?"

Are you asking, or telling?

"Telling. You're tomorrow."

Then you are correct.

Once the answer to the riddle was spoken, the door opened up into a wide, circular room, all done up in shades of blue. Large arched windows, hung with blue and bronze silks, ringed the room, flooding it with moonlight, the sight reminding him of something, the memory just out of reach.

Walking further in, Harry saw that placed randomly throughout the airy room were tables and comfortable looking chairs and sofas. Large bronze globes, and antique looking bronze telescopes were placed by all the windows.

And placed all along the walls, wherever they could fit, were bookcases almost overflowing with books. The bookcases stopped at an arched doorway, which had a white statue of a woman standing next to it, and what looked like two sets stairs, each leading a different direction.

"This is our common room. It's basically a place where you can relax and study whenever you feel like it. The dormitories are through that doorway, right for girls, left for boys, and please, don't try to go up the staircase that isn't meant for you, because I'm warning you now, you won't like what happens if you do," Penelope said once everyone was inside the common room.

The older students were already heading to the doorway, not needing the explanation, and Harry hurried up behind them, wanting to be the first person to see what his dorm was like, leaving the other first years, and their questions, behind in the common room.

The room he walked into was like a mirror of the room he just left, only instead of the things in the common room, there were four large beds, all evenly spaced apart and separated by floor to ceiling midnight blue hangings that were studded with stars.

Their trunks were already somehow in the room, one waiting by each bed, so Harry walked around until he found his at one of the beds closest to the door. He put Whisper, who was already knocked out, a warm weight in his arms, down on the bed, and checked out the hangings, moving them around.

Doing this, he realized that he could close them so that the bed, dresser, and wardrobe were all closed away in space that was as big as a small room, blocking out everything else.

"That should come in handy," he said to himself, tying the hangings close.

He kicked off his shoes and laid down on the bed, careful so that he wouldn't wake up Whisper, and tuned out the sounds of the other boys coming into the room, staring up at the star-studded ceiling.

Even though he was here in his dorm, it was still a little hard to believe that he was really there, at Hogwarts. His life had changed so much in just a month, that if all this ended up being a dream, and he woke up back in the cupboard, he wouldn't even be surprised.

But I'm not. All of this, everything that's happening right now is real. And I'm here, doing everything I said I was going to do.

It was just like the Hat said, as long as he believed, anything was possible.