Disclaimer: I don't own anything you know... seriously, if I did, the story would have ended up... well, like this :) Oh, and the Sorting Hat's song was totally written by me.

A/N: So... my excuse... Well, beside the fact that my beta is MIA (this chapter is unbeta'd, so any mistakes are mine alone), life hit me pretty hard a few weeks ago, and... well... I just got over it.

I'd also like to clear a little something up before we begin. One lovely reviewer commented about Tyl's naivety regarding the deaths of Remus and Snape. I'd like to explain this to everyone, just so we're all on the same page. Yeah, by Tyl's age he should know what death is. He does, really (he knows his mother is dead, for example). However, Tyl grew up knowing and experiencing only what Dumbledore wanted him to, and being in such a protected environment caused his sense of reality to be a tad skewed. On another note, because Tyl grew up in such a closed environment, he has very few friends, and those that he does have are very close to him. Learning that he won't see them again triggered a bit of a defence mechanism. The adults know he doesn't believe their story, and Tyl knows that what they say isn't true, but everyone wants to believe it's the truth so badly that they are able to trick themselves into believing their world is perfect.

Now that that's out there, on with the show!

Chapter 2: To Hogwarts

Little Hangleton was buzzing with activity the night of July the thirty-first, many of the village's occupants congregating in the Hanged Man, the local bar. The air was cooler that evening than it had been all summer, a refreshing change from the usual blistering heat. Though the night was still young, the citizens of the town laughed and drank as if there were only minutes left before morning. Wives talked merrily to each other, gossiping vehemently. Their favourite topic was, as usual, the mysterious man who occupied the large manor on the nearby hill.

The Riddles had been found dead in that house nearly fifty years ago, although the cause of the family's demise had remained a mystery. Their maid had found the three of them sitting in the drawing room, dressed for dinner. Only, they wouldn't be dining any more. It had been a shame, really; the Riddle family was incredibly wealthy and kept Little Hangleton's economy high. Not to mention the fact that the son had been gorgeous.

Nonetheless, the village had moved on. The house had had several new tenants in the years to follow, but all had quickly left, claiming that there was a "nasty feeling" about it that they just couldn't shake. That is, all except for the most recent resident.

The man had moved in almost a decade ago, returning the previously dilapidated home to its former glory. Not much was known about the man, except that he was incredibly handsome. He didn't seem to leave his home often, and when he did it was to travel elsewhere, but his short trips through the town left the women swooning and the men green with envy.

There was one thing, however, that everyone agreed on – the man was influential.

They were never sure what gave them this impression of authority, except that the man – who they'd never really learned the name of and thus referred to as 'You-Know-Who' – exuded power. This was the source of their gossip. The women of the town always exchanged stories with one another, creating marvellous plots revolving around You-Know-Who and why someone so important and drop dead gorgeous was living in such a small town – not that they really had a problem with that. They speculated upon the business he must have run and the women he probably bedded. Some even likened him to the deceased Riddle family – the son in particular. How romantic would it have been for the long lost son of the beautiful Tom Riddle to return decades after his father's death, only to discover that his family was gone?

Although, You-Know-Who was definitely too young to be the son of Tom Riddle. He couldn't have been over thirty! And thinking about someone so young already possessing so much power only brought upon more gossip.

The speed with which his residence had been restored was yet another popular topic for gossiping about. The house, christened Riddle manor, was once quite magnificent. Following the untimely demise of the Riddle family, the building had slowly but surely fallen into a state of disrepair. The windows had been boarded up, tiles had gone missing, and the vegetation had taken control of the land. Now, however, the lawn was kept in pristine condition and the house itself was never less than perfect in appearance. The walls were an off-white colour to offset the black-tiled roof, and the windows were always spotlessly clean. Although the red velvet curtains were usually drawn, at times a wandering villager could spot a marvellous library hidden within the walls of the house.

One lucky woman, Cecilia Scout, had even seen You-Know-Who reading by the window. She had quickly spread the news to her closest friends, boasting about the way the man lounged when he read – graceful yet casual – and how his shocking eyes settled on her through the window when he had felt her presence.

And God, but his eyes were the strangest colour. They were such a unique mix of violet and gold that they appeared almost crimson; although Cecilia was never quite sure how those colours could blend into such a shade.

Nonetheless, it was that exact hue that was now gazing out of a window on the second floor of Riddle manor, watching distastefully as the residents of the town celebrated the cool summer night.

The man was lounging gracefully in a black leather armchair, one leg crossed imperiously over the other as his chin rested in the palm of his right hand. His left hand twirled a wizard's wand lazily as he listened to another man's low words.

The man finished speaking, and You-Know-Who turned his eyes away from the window, instead resting his gaze on the masked figure before him. "Is that so?" he questioned quietly, his voice chilled. The man nodded quickly before stooping into a bow. "Very well," the red-eyed man intoned, not bothering to acknowledge the masked man's subservience. "Quirinus," he beckoned.

Several seconds passed before the door opened and a second masked man entered, bowing deeply in reverence. "My Lord?" he said quietly as he lowered his body.

"You may stand," the Lord declared, and both masked figures straightened their postures. The Lord did not utter another command, however, letting the two men wait for whatever order they knew he would give. Instead, the man let his gaze roam the room, inspecting the blank wooden walls and scattered bookshelves before resting on the fireplace. Upon the hearth perched a blank picture frame.

The Lord stretched idly, deciding he'd let his servants suffer the machinations of their minds long enough for the time being. "Congratulations on becoming the new Defence teacher at Hogwarts," the man said coldly, his red eyes narrowing at the thought of the school. Nonetheless, infiltrating the establishment was the key to his plan, and he'd much rather his spy be a Defence professor than the teacher of Muggle Studies. The change was not necessary for his plan, but convenient. He leered satisfactorily when Quirinus flinched before turning to his spy. "You may tell Quirinus your information," he said, beckoning lazily for the man to speak.

The first man nodded, his eyes glinting behind his mask as he spoke. "Your target will be a first year in Hogwarts. He will have dark hair. His name –" the man appeared to struggle for a minute, before concluding, "Is unknown. His eyes are –" the man appeared to lose his voice for a second before he finally forced a word out of his mouth, albeit not what he originally planned to say. "Unmistakeable," he said lamely, before continuing. "He will have a mark on his –" here, the man gasped, clearly losing to the unknown force that refused to let him speak. He fell to his knees as a low whimper escaped his lips.

The Lord's mouth twitched as Quirinus turned his eyes upon him. He lowered his wand from the fallen man, his red eyes mocking the masked figure before him. "Can't make it too easy for you, can I?" he asked casually as his wand raised to the man still standing. He was clearly in a mood to 'play' with his Death Eaters; his games were well known among his ranks. Quirinus flinched, lowering his gaze to his Lord's feet. Still, he conceded, the Dark Lord was not as treacherous as he once was.

Since that Halloween night nearly ten years ago, Lord Voldemort had changed dramatically. He had moved his base to this house, planned more efficient raids (not that anyone was willing to say that they hadn't been efficient before), and even punished mistakes less severely than he once did (although he still became furious when anyone erred; he seemed to have realized that torturing your men until they could barely stand was not conducive to better performance in future battles). The major change, however, was in his overall attitude. He seemed completely determined to find 'The Child' as he was referred to, and he became particularly enraged every time a Death Eater search turned up fruitless – although he often used it as a test of sorts; withholding information or intentionally worsening circumstances for his men. The fact that none of his ranks were able to pass his tests only made their future trials more difficult.

On the other hand, however, the Dark Lord also spent much time researching in the manor's library; although he never revealed what he was looking for. Despite this, the distraction was suitable enough for the Death Eaters to lick their wounds after yet another failed attempt at finding The Child.

All in all, the Dark Lord had changed, and no one was complaining. The Death Eaters had had many successes in the past decade, barring the many failed attempts at finding The Child, and now that they had information on the brat – as limited as it was thanks to their Lord's sadistic tendencies – things were sure to pick up. Just looking at their Lord, the two masked men could see triumph shining in the man's crimson gaze.

The Dark Lord tilted his head to the side as he gazed at the two men imperiously. "You may leave," he declared, waving a hand carelessly. The two Death Eaters bowed steeply before exiting the room.

Lord Voldemort leaned back in his seat, his lips curling into a smile that never appeared in the presence of his Death Eaters. He opened his left palm, his fingers weaving around his wand as he gazed almost obsessively at the lightning-shaped scar that had rested there for almost a decade.

"Harry Potter," he muttered to himself, "Soon you will be mine."

~Haunted by Ill Angels~

The Leaky Cauldron was unusually crowded when Tyl Black stumbled out of the fireplace. So crowded, in fact, that instead of hitting the floor when he lost his footing, he ran right into one of the tavern's many patrons.

"I'm sorry," Tyl exclaimed when he fell backwards onto the stone floor. He shielded his head with his arms when the person turned to face him, uttering several incoherent apologies. His first trip into the public seemed to be going swimmingly, and he'd only just arrived.

"I-it's o-o-okay," a man stuttered, crouching down to see to the fallen boy. His eyes widened slightly before he questioned, "Are you al-al-alright?"

The man was relatively young, with a shock of dark hair and dark eyes. One of his eyes twitched slightly when he met Tyl's gaze.

"Yes," the boy said, standing with the help of the man. He took a moment to regain his composure then brushed the soot off of his robes. "Thank you," he said, looking up at the man.

The wizard opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted when a smiling Sirius emerged from the fireplace.

"Wow, crowded," Tyl's father observed, before turning his eyes to his son. "Come along, then." He placed a hand on the boy's shoulder, steering him out of the Leaky Cauldron and toward the brick wall. He looked around for dramatic effect before tapping his wand on the wall in a seemingly random fashion as he muttered, "three up, two across."

Once Sirius had tapped the necessary brick, he stepped back with his son and watched as the wall separated, opening up to reveal a whole new world.

"Well, Tyl, welcome to Diagon Alley," Sirius said as his son stared wide-eyed at the scene before him.

Tyl had never been to the Alley before, for the sake of his 'safety', and the whole place baffled him. He had thought that the Leaky Cauldron was busy, but it didn't even compare to Diagon Alley. Everywhere Tyl looked, there were wizards and witches bustling about. And he couldn't blame them; there were so many stores! There was an apothecary, an assortment of cafes, a cauldron shop, an owl emporium, and so much more that Tyl's head spun just thinking about where they were going to go first.

Fortunately, Sirius solved this problem by taking Tyl's arm in a loose grip and steering him off to Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions.

Tyl was a little bit flummoxed, however, when his father left him in the middle of the store without a word. Not that the boy had any real problems with being out in public alone (not that that had ever happened before), but that his father of all people had made it happen! Tyl distinctly remembered his father getting worked up over him being alone in their own library; he couldn't imagine what would get the man to leave him alone in public, of all places.

But then a squat witch clothed in mauve robes bustled up to him and ushered him toward the back with a quick, "Hogwarts, dear?" and the green-eyed boy knew that his father had to have predicted this outcome; opting instead to avoid what looked to be a presumptuous woman who would probably have tried fitting both of them for robes.

Or maybe he was just hungry.

Nonetheless, Tyl allowed himself to be moved along without further pondering, stepping onto the stool when required. The woman – who Tyl assumed to be Madam Malkin – set to work pinning the proper lengths for his school robes, and he didn't even notice anyone else in the area until a boyish voice spoke to him.

"Hullo," the boy said, and repeated himself in a louder tone when Tyl didn't respond.

Once his attention had been caught, the Black heir turned his head slightly to the side, a surprised look on his face. "Hello." He didn't bother saying anything else, wondering why the child had deigned to talk to him in the first place. Although, judging by the boy's superior air, he surmised that perhaps the other boy thought that Tyl was the one who was unworthy. The boy had a pointed face and pale skin, with hair so blond it could probably have been considered white. The thought of such a hair colour for a child elicited a small smile from Tyl's lips; the blond took this as an invitation to converse.

"Are you going to Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," the dark-haired boy stated, as if the Hogwarts uniform being fitted to him didn't give that away.

The blond nodded. "Me too," he said. "Father is buying my books next door and Mother is looking into wands for me. When they're done, I'm going to take them to look at racing brooms. We're not allowed them at Hogwarts, but I think I'll smuggle one in after I convince father to buy me one."

"That's great," Tyl replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm – his favourite form of mocking since he'd learned it from the twins (thinking back, he wasn't sure how he'd survived without it before).

"Have you got a broom?" the boy continued, oblivious to the brunet's ire.

"No," the Black heir responded, "Seeing as first years aren't allowed brooms."

The blond shrugged indignantly, and then winced as the witch attending to his robes poked him with a pin (although he was the one who had moved suddenly, so why he was glaring daggers at the poor woman Tyl would never know). "Well, I'll have one."

"Of course you will," Tyl replied tiredly.

"Do you play Quidditch?"

"A little," Tyl admitted. Knowing the Weasleys meant that he had no choice in the matter.

"So do I," the blond stated, "I play Seeker – the most important player on the team, you know." Tyl did know, but he supposed that was just a technicality. "Father says that it would be a complete crime if I wasn't put on my House team. I agree. Do you know what house you'll be in?"

The brunet couldn't help but send the blond a Look. The boy had to be utterly insane; he was obviously a pureblood, but he had the manners of a troll – and a spoiled one at that.

"Ravenclaw," he said simply. He refused to be placed anywhere other than where his friends were.

The blond, for his part, did no more than wrinkle his pointy nose; which was definitely preferable to the words that followed. "I suppose that's alright. I'm going to be Slytherin myself; but I suppose Ravenclaw is okay, too. I'd rather be anywhere than Hufflepuff, at any rate."

Tyl couldn't help but snap at the boy for his remark. "My cousin is a Hufflepuff," he said angrily.

"Oh, sorry," the blond said; although he didn't sound the least bit apologetic –not about being rude, anyway. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Tyl was saved when Madam Malkin interrupted him.

"You're done, dear," she said with a smile, gesturing for Tyl to step down from the footstool.

"I suppose I'll see you at Hogwarts, then," the blond said, looking dejected now that his 'friend' was leaving.

"I suppose so," Tyl agreed sadly before walking to the front of the shop. He stopped suddenly when he saw his father standing outside, leaning casually against the doorframe (for the door was ajar) with a birdcage in his hand.

But what shocked Tyl the most was the bird inside the cage.

It was an owl, of course, and a beautiful one at that. She was a snowy owl – if the stunning white feathers didn't give that away, then the owl's general body shape did. Her amber eyes appeared to be more intelligent than the average owl could be accredited for, and she hooted softly in a manner that seemed to be asking Tyl who he was.

As it was, the Black heir turned questioning green eyes to his father, who smiled in return.

"It's a day late, but Happy eleventh Birthday, Tyl," he said, grinning broadly as he held the owl's cage toward his son.

Tyl's eyes grew wide as he gazed at the bird; the boy for once without some comment on his lips.

"You should give her a name," Sirius prompted gently as he led his son out into Diagon Alley once more.

Tyl nodded silently, and although it bemoaned him to give his owl such a name – because, admittedly, it was rather strange, even for an owl – he couldn't think of anything but the one name until he spoke it out loud. "Hedwig."

Upon uttering the word, the owl hooted happily at Tyl, and although the boy didn't want to admit it (just thinking about who his owl – his own owl! – was named after made him shudder), the name was perfect.

He couldn't even say why; just that once he had thought of the name, nothing else fit quite so well.

"Excellent," Sirius agreed before dragging the green-eyed boy toward Ollivander's Wand Shop.

The store was narrow and shabby-looking; its sign worn with age. The faded gold letters on the sign declared it to be 'Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 BC'. Tyl looked at it sceptically before his father pulled him through the door. A bell chimed somewhere in the store when they entered, but otherwise the two were greeted by silence. The green-eyed boy took the moment to observe his surroundings, but was less than pleased with what he saw.

The place was, admittedly, tiny. Even with just the two Blacks there, Tyl felt cramped. The only furniture in the room was a spindly old chair that both wizards avoided looking at for too long. There were also several shelves lined with small boxes, but as far as he could tell, there was no one else in the store.

"Good afternoon."

The voice was soft enough that Tyl felt rather stupid when he jumped, but he couldn't deny that he was surprised. To his dismay, his father had apparently expected such a greeting, as he was smiling happily at the man who had just appeared.

"Nice to see you again, Ollivander," Sirius greeted pleasantly, placing a comforting shoulder on his son.

"Hello," Tyl said, trying to hide his embarrassment. He gazed calculatingly at the wand-maker, noting how his pale eyes shone with life despite his obvious old age.

The old man's wide eyes locked onto Tyl, his lips stretching into a smile. "You must be Tyl Black," he said, moving forward to inspect the boy. "I had a feeling I'd be seeing you soon." His expression suddenly turned more serious, and he pulled a tape measure with silver markings out of his pocket. "Now then, which is your wand arm?"

Surprised slightly by the abrupt change in the man's attitude, Tyl held his right arm out to Ollivander, palm up.

The wand-maker's eyes widened slightly as he saw the lightning-shaped scar on the boy's hand. He made no other sign of having seen the strange mark, quickly measuring the length of Tyl's arm and forearm, the distance between the floor and his shoulder, the diameter of his head, and several other seemingly pointless dimensions.

"Alright, that will do," the man declared, and his tape measure crumpled into a pile on the floor. "Now then, let me see..." he mumbled to himself, wandering off into the store.

He returned several minutes later, holding a small, thin box in his hands. "Unusual combination," he said, opening the box gingerly, "Holly and phoenix feather, nice and supple." His eyes shone brightly as Tyl reached to take the wand in his hand.

The moment he held the wand, warmth spread throughout Tyl's arm. His green eyes widened dramatically at the power he felt. He moved his arm gracefully – it felt natural, like breathing – and silvery-white sparks emitted from the wand. He looked to Ollivander, who was beaming back at him.

"Excellent," he cried. "I was wondering – so similar – such power." He seemed to be talking to himself, but Tyl listened raptly nonetheless. "Very, very curious."

"I'm sorry," Tyl interrupted, "But what's curious?"

Ollivander rounded on Tyl, his expression serious. "I remember every wand I've ever made. That wand contains a phoenix feather," he explained quietly. "That phoenix gave only one other feather. That wand's brother –" he glanced at Sirius, who seemed somewhat baffled, before continuing, "Became the wand of the most feared Dark Lord in existence. Yew, thirteen and a half inches... That's not to say you will be a Dark Lord, of course," his eyes focused on Tyl's hand. "No, I expect not. I believe we will see great things from you, Mr. Black."

"What do you mean?" Tyl asked, unable to hide the wonder in his voice.

"That is a story for another time, I'm afraid," Ollivander said quietly, smiling apologetically at the two Blacks.

"Well, I suppose it's time to go," Sirius cut in, handing seven galleons to Ollivander. "We still have to get your books." He steered his son out of the store, smiling to cover his confusion. Ollivander almost never found the right wand on his first attempt. Even as he pondered this strange event, one thought overran his mind.

What was that about?

~Haunted by Ill Angels~

"Come along, children," Molly Weasley said, ushering five redheaded children and one brunet boy through the crowded train station. The six children followed close behind her as they wound their way through the busy King's Cross Station.

"Let's see," she muttered to herself, "Platform 9, 10 – ah! There we are." She stopped abruptly, turning to the children. "Percy, you first."

The tallest child, a redhead, nodded as he steered his trolley in front of the barrier between the two platforms. After taking a quick breath, he walked toward the barrier. Just as it appeared that he was going to crash, the wizard disappeared into the barrier.

"Perfect, prefect Percy," two redheaded twins said in unison, identical faces mocking.

Molly sighed in exasperation. "Alright, Fred," she said, beckoning to one of the twins.

"I'm not Fred," the twin replied, a frown marring his face.

Molly appeared taken aback. "I'm sorry, George. Go on, now."

The twin steered his own trolley forward, stopping right before he hit the barrier. "Just kidding," he said earnestly, "I am Fred." Then he, too, disappeared within the barrier.

The sole brunet boy rolled his eyes at the twin's antics. He wasn't planning to spoil his friend's fun, but he knew that Fred was still standing beside him.

"George," the redheaded woman sighed, beckoning the second twin forward.

Fred smiled and ruffled the small brunet's hair playfully. "See you on the other side," he teased before following his brother through.

Molly smiled sweetly at the three children remaining. "Alright Ron, Tyl, I know this is your first time. If you get frightened, try running at it."

The taller boy, Ron, nodded meekly. He turned to the brunet boy, looking for reassurance, but found none. Tyl had already disappeared through the barrier behind the twins.

"Excellent," Molly cheered the small boy happily. "Alright, Ron, your turn."

Ron gulped before running toward the barrier. His trolley wobbled slightly as he ran, and he squeezed his eyes shut tightly. He flinched slightly when he thought he was going to collide, and when he didn't, he opened his eyes happily.

And ran his trolley right into Tyl.

The smaller boy let out a surprised yelp as he was hit by the trolley, the momentum causing him to collide painfully with the floor.

"Oh, dear," exclaimed Molly as she and the last child – a small redheaded girl – emerged from the barrier and onto Platform 9 ¾. She ran over to Tyl, crouching down to get a good look at the brunet. "What will your father say when he hears of this?" she asked rhetorically, helping the silent boy to stand again.

"I'm alright," Tyl said quietly, rubbing his shoulder tenderly.

The twins appeared seemingly out of thin air, each wrapping an arm over the brunet's shoulders. "Don't worry, mum," they said in unison, "We'll take care of him."

"Where were you two?" Molly demanded angrily. "You could have prevented this!"

"We were helping –"

"Tyl by taking care –"

"Of his luggage," they explained. They shrugged their shoulders helplessly. "It isn't our fault if Ickle Ronniekins forgot to stop."

Molly sighed, but allowed the twins to steer Tyl toward the train. She turned to Ron next, who appeared to be on the verge of tears. "Cheer up, Ron," she commanded, pulling him into a hug. His breathing became normal again, his face less tense, and Molly released him from the hug.

"Oh, you've got some dirt on your nose," she said, scrutinizing his face. She licked her thumb and started rubbing it on the bridge of her son's nose.

"Mum, stop it," said Ron. He pulled free from Molly, his face turning red. "I guess I should go," he said hastily, rushing toward the train.

"Mum, can't I go?" Ginny asked sadly as the train whistle blew.

"Next year, Ginny," Molly said quietly, drawing her daughter close to her. The train whistle blew once more, and the Weasley matron waved her arm sadly as the Hogwarts Express began to leave, taking her sons with it.

On the train, Fred and George led Tyl into an empty compartment, smiling jovially at their friend.

"Right," Fred began, "You –"

"Wait here and we'll –"

"Go find Lee."

Tyl, used to the way the twins spoke, simply nodded in response. He sat down on the nearest seat as the twins released him and turned to leave. He sent a smile at their backs before they disappeared from the compartment. He rubbed his shoulder absently, wincing slightly at the bruise that was forming where he had been hit by Ron's trolley.

Several minutes passed in silence before the compartment door slid open. Tyl turned to face the intruder, noting with the barest surprise that the redhead who emerged was not one of the people he was expecting.

"Do you mind?" Ron asked, sitting down across from Tyl before he could answer. "All the others are full," he explained, shrugging one shoulder before leaning back in his seat.

Tyl ignored Ron, instead turning his attention out the window. He watched with mild interest as the landscape blurred by.

None too soon, the door slid open again, and Tyl turned to face the newest occupants. Unfortunately, he was once again disappointed to see that it wasn't the twins who had come to save him from their younger brother.

No, it was the blond boy from Diagon Alley. Only, this time, he wasn't alone. Flanking him were two rather large boys who appeared sort of like bodyguards.

"I heard Tyl Black is in this compartment," the boy said by way of explanation. "Is it true?"

Tyl raised an eyebrow at the boy. "What's so special about him?" he questioned curiously.

The boy stared at Tyl disbelievingly. "What do you mean? He's the heir of the Black family," he said, as if that was reason enough to admire someone.

Tyl found himself inclined to agree.

Ron chose this moment to make himself known. "So you want to meet him just because he's rich?"

The blond rounded on the youngest Weasley boy. "Let me guess," he drawled, "Red hair, hand-me-down clothes... you must be a Weasley."

"Must he?" Tyl asked as he cocked an eyebrow.

"Anything from the trolley dears?" a woman questioned briefly from the corridor. When everyone muttered a negative – Ron held up a wrapped sandwich – the woman dimpled a smile at them and slid the compartment door shut.

"My father's told me all about your family," the blond continued.

"Let me guess," Fred mocked, slinging an arm over the blond's shoulders.

"Pale hair," George continued, appearing beside his brother.

"Pointy face –"

"And a better-than-you attitude."

"You must be a Malfoy," they finished in unison, slipping around the blond and sitting on either side of Tyl. A third boy, a black wizard sporting dreadlocks, entered behind the twins and sat beside Ron. He appeared completely at ease among the chaos of the compartment; amused even.

The blond – Malfoy – looked disgruntled as he stared down the twins. "Draco Malfoy," he introduced slowly.

Ron snorted.

"Amused, Weasley?" Malfoy questioned harshly.

Tyl sighed. "Alright, I think this will suffice," he said from between the twins.

Malfoy's eyes widened as he spotted the brunet. "You're Tyl Black, aren't you?" he demanded, moving closer to inspect the smaller boy. "You know," he drawled, "You will find that some families are better to associate with than others. I can help you there."

Tyl leaned back in his seat, lounging comfortably. "Thank you for the advice," he said honestly, "But I think I'm capable of finding friends for myself." He looked pointedly at the two bodyguards Malfoy kept as friends.

Malfoy's eyes widened. "I – I didn't mean – but –" He stopped, his face turning red, before he cleared his throat. "I didn't introduce you," he said, gesturing to the two boys beside him. "This is Crabbe and Goyle," he said, changing the subject abruptly to hide his embarrassment.

Tyl raised an eyebrow. "Pleasure, I'm sure," he said lazily, opting to go along with the change in subject.

"Well," Fred interjected, "I think –"

"This place is getting –"

"A bit crowded."

"Perhaps it's time you found your own compartment," they suggested, each wrapping an arm over the brunet wizard's shoulders.

Malfoy sneered. "I suppose I'll be seeing you around, then," he said, looking at Tyl with a mix of annoyance and disappointment. He turned around and left the compartment, Crabbe and Goyle at his heels.

Ron let out a big whoosh of air. "I thought he'd never leave," he lamented, but was largely ignored.

"Anyways," Fred said, squeezing Tyl's shoulders with his arm, "Tyl –"

"We would like you to meet –"

"Lee Jordan."

"He's a Gryffindor," George explained, gesturing widely to the black boy. "We met him –"

"In Transfiguration class," Lee interrupted, leaning forward and holding a hand out to Tyl. "It's nice to meet you at last."

Tyl's lips twitched into a smile as he leaned forward – the twins' arms still holding onto him – and took Lee's hand in his own. "It truly is a pleasure," he said, humour shining in his eyes.

Just then, the door to the compartment slid open once more, and a girl with bushy hair entered.

"Have any of you seen a toad?" the girl asked in a bossy voice. Tyl noticed distantly that her two front teeth were a bit larger than they should have been, but wisely refrained from mentioning it. "Neville's lost his."

"How do you lose a toad?" Ron asked.

The girl ignored him. "Well, if you see him, let me –" she froze when her eyes rested on Tyl, who had settled back in his seat. "Are you Tyl Black?" she asked, eyes wide.

The dark-haired wizard blinked. "Yes," he said. He wasn't quite sure what was so special about being Tyl Black today, but everyone else seemed to. "Why?"

"You're famous," she stated, as if it was obvious. "I mean, you're Tyl Black, heir to the Black family."

"Yeah, so?" said Ron.

Tyl couldn't help but be a little confused. Yes, his family was important, but no one had gawked at him like this when he'd been at Hogwarts visiting his Aunt Andromeda.

The girl rolled her eyes in exasperation. "The Black family is one of the oldest and most noble houses in the Wizarding World," she explained. "They're practically royalty."

"Royalty?" questioned Ron, eyes wide as he stared at Tyl.

"Well," said Fred, "Look at –"

"Him," continued George. "That messy dark hair –"

"Those emerald-cut eyes –"

"His noble attitude –"

"You shouldn't be surprised," they finished together, deadpan expressions on their face.

"He can't be famous!" Ron exclaimed crossly. "He's Tyl."

Tyl raised an eyebrow at the redhead, but otherwise ignored the boy. Instead, he turned to the bushy-haired girl. "What's your name?" he questioned.

"Oh, how rude of me," said the girl. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Muggleborn?" asked Lee.

Hermione blinked. "How did you know?"

Lee chuckled. "Your name," he said simply, a grin splitting his face.

Hermione blushed furiously as her gaze fell to her shoes. "Anyways," she mumbled, "If you see a toad, let me know." She turned around quickly and dashed out of the compartment. "Oh," she called from the corridor, "You should get changed into your uniforms soon. I expect we'll be arriving shortly."

Ron was still staring at Tyl. "You're famous?" he asked, disbelief colouring his tone.

Tyl shrugged. "Not famous so much as well-known," he confessed, his eyebrows knitted together. What difference did it make? He'd known Ron for years; they'd disliked each other for years. Now Ron finds out that Tyl is an important member of society, and suddenly they're best friends?

Ron would have to learn that things don't work out that way.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Ron accused, his face turning red.

"You shouldn't have had to be told," the twins chorused.

Ron pouted, but remained silent.

Tyl peered around George and out the window. It was getting pretty dark out, he noticed, and the train seemed to be slowing down. He nodded to no one in particular and untangled himself from the twins' arms, getting his uniform out and changing into it. The other occupants of the compartment followed suit, and before they knew it a voice was speaking over the intercom. "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time," it boomed, "Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

"You've got a bit of dirt on your nose," Fred said, peering down at Ron.

"Let me get that off for you," George continued, licking his thumb mockingly. Ron's face flushed a deep crimson as he tried to run around the twins. The two elder Weasleys let him go, identical grins plastered on their faces.

Tyl smiled at the twins' antics before he joined the crowd of children forming outside of the compartment. The others joined him, and soon the train slowed to a stop. The students pushed and shoved their way out of the train and onto a dark platform, chatting into the night.

A lamp flashed over the heads of the students, and soon a booming voice spoke out. "Firs' years over here. Firs' years," the man called, towering over the crowd. "Firs' years follow me." The man was bigger than anyone Tyl had ever seen – a half giant, probably – and the small wizard recognized his hairy face as Hagrid, Hogwarts' groundkeeper. He and Ron moved over to join the growing crowd of first years by the man as he said, "Any more firs' years? No? Then mind yer step, an' follow me!"

The concession moved down a narrow path, slipping and stumbling slightly as they moved their way down what seemed to be a steep hill. On either side of them was an utter darkness which was probably the result of trees. One boy could be heard sniffing quietly as they walked.

"Yeh'll get yet firs' sight o' Hogwarts in jus' a sec," said Hagrid as they rounded a bend.

Soon enough, Hogwarts loomed into sight, and the first years let out a collective, "Ooooh," as they saw it.

They stopped at the edge of a great black lake, and in the distance a giant castle could be seen in the distance, perched on top of a mountain. Its windows shone welcomingly into the dark night.

"Only four to a boat," Hagrid told them, "No more'n that." He pointed to a fleet of small boats sitting on the water's edge. Tyl got into a boat, and was quickly followed by Ron, Hermione, and – surprisingly – Malfoy.

Hagrid, who had a boat to himself, boomed, "Everyone in? Right then – FORWARD!"

The boats lurched forward in the lake and then began to move gracefully toward the castle. The students were silent in their awe of the school. The quiet was broken only when Hagrid shouted, "Heads down!" The children ducked quickly as they reached the cliff face, and the boats carried them through a curtain of ivy. They were taken through a small tunnel, and soon were deposited at what appeared to be a harbour. They clambered out of their boats and onto the stones.

Hagrid, who was checking the boats behind the kids, shouted, "Whose toad is this?"

"Trevor!" a chubby boy shouted, running over to the half-giant. Tyl noted that he was the boy who was sniffing earlier. He assumed it was Neville Longbottom, who apparently hadn't found his toad on the train.

"Right then, le's go," Hagrid said, and led them over the rocks through a small passageway. They came out onto the grass in the shadow of the school, and several first years exclaimed as they saw the enormity of Hogwarts. Hagrid checked them over one last time before turning to the giant front door and knocking three times.

The large oak door opened almost immediately, a tall figure stepping forward from the light. Emerald robes shimmered as the light hit them. The figure itself was difficult to make out; the glow creating a silhouette around the person.

The voice, however, was unmistakable.

"Welcome to Hogwarts."

The silhouette moved out of the light, revealing woman with dark hair pulled back from a stern face. Tyl immediately recognized her as his Aunt Minnie, a smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.

"Firs' years, Professor McGonagall," boomed Hagrid as he stepped to the side.

"Thank you, Hagrid," said Aunt Minnie. She pushed the front door open, revealing a room so large you could have fit a house inside of it. "I'll take them from here," she declared, gesturing for the first years to enter.

The first years gathered into the front hall, most of them whispering amongst each other in awe of the room before them. There were torches lining the walls and the ceiling was too high to see clearly; in front of them a large marble staircase led the way to the upper floors of the school. To their right, the roar of hundreds of students could be heard. However, instead of joining the students in the Great Hall, Aunt Minnie ushered the first years into a smaller room off to the side.

The children filed in, standing closer together than was typically comfortable, and waited for the witch before them to speak.

"The start-of-term banquet will commence shortly," she began, "but first, you must be sorted." She paused, looking over every student in the room significantly. "The Sorting ceremony is incredibly important, as while you are with us in Hogwarts, your House will become a sort of family for you. You will learn together, live together, and grow up together.

"There are four houses in Hogwarts: Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. You will find that each house is known for specific qualities; there is great history behind all four Houses, and many great witches and wizards have come from them. Any achievements will earn points for your houses, while follies will cost them. When the year closes, the house with the most points wins the house cup. I sincerely hope that you become a tribute to whichever house you are sorted into.

"There ceremony will be held in a few minutes in the Great Hall, in front of the rest of the school. It would be wise if you made yourselves presentable," she finished, eyeing Ron with a raised eyebrow. He quickly rubbed his nose in an attempt to remove the dirt.

"I will return here when we are ready to sort you," Aunt Minnie said, turning from the students and leaving the room.

The room became near-silent as the first years waited for the witch to return. Every so often a student shifted nervously. The silence was only broken when a congregation of ghosts flew through the room, welcoming the newest additions to the school.

Before anyone had the time to question the presence of ghosts in the school, however, the door to the Great Hall opened ominously.

"The ceremony is ready to begin," Aunt Minnie said, reappearing through the door. "Form an orderly line," she demanded. Once her order had been carried out, she said, "Follow me," and led the first years through the door and across the flagstone, into the Great Hall.

The room was, to say the very least, grand. There were four long tables seating the students, and a fifth table that sat the staff. Floating over the heads of the witches and wizards were innumerable lit candles. The ceiling, which was far above their heads, was enchanted to reflect the sky above them. As they walked, many first years gazed up at the ceiling in marvel.

Tyl supposed it was something you just got used to.

Aunt Minnie took the line of students through the hall and to the front of the room. She stopped when they were standing before the students in the hall, their backs to the staff table.

Aunt Minnie's green robes swished as she placed a four-legged stool in front of them, resting an old, patched hat on top of it.

The occupants of the hall waited in silence as a tear in the hat opened up and it began to sing:

'I may seem torn and old,

And my shape is rough and patched,

But you'd never find a hat so bold

To think the plot I've hatched.

Your search may take you far and wide,

You'll find hats tall and small,

Place me on your head, give me a try;

You'll see I'm the greatest of them all.

There's no mind I can't divine,

No brain that I can't pick;

The Hogwarts sorting job is mine

And I know just the trick.

You may belong to Gryffindor,

The noble, just and pure,

With bravery flowing free,

Gryffindors are sure.

Maybe you're a Hufflepuff,

With loyalty to spare,

They're honest, kind, and sure to be

The ones who always care.

Perhaps Ravenclaw's where you belong,

With a mind no others match,

Your genius is unfounded,

Your brain is quite the catch.

And let's not forget dear Slytherin,

A cunning House indeed,

Their wit so sharp, their tricks so sure,

They'll win by any mean.

So if you're ready, try me on,

We'll see where you belong,

Ready or not, here I come,

We've reached the end of my song.'

The hat's mouth closed, and the hall burst into applause. The hat bowed to the four tables quickly before falling still once more.

Aunt Minnie moved forward, holding a roll of parchment in her hands. "When I call your name," she said, addressing the first years, "You will place The Sorting Hat on your head and sit on the stool." She paused, waiting to make sure the new students were paying attention to her, before she said, "Abbott, Hannah."

A small girl stepped forward nervously, her blonde pigtails flapping over her face as she stumbled toward the stool. She placed the hat on her head and sat down. There was a moment's pause before the hat shouted, "HUFFLEPUFF!"

The hall burst into applause once more, the loudest cheers coming from the table on the right. Hannah pulled the hat from her head, setting it on the stool, before joining the Hufflepuffs, a large grin splitting her face.

"Black, Tyl," Aunt Minnie said, a gleam in her eyes as she watched her surrogate nephew step forward.

Tyl moved forward, his only thought Ravenclaw, as he placed the hat on his head. He didn't even get a chance to sit down before his wishes came true.

"RAVENCLAW!" the hat shouted to the hall, and Tyl was all smiles as he went to join his new house at their table. He didn't hear the thunderous applause as the Weasley twins moved apart to allow space for their friend.

"We knew you –"

"Had it in you," they said, identical grins on their faces as they each wrapped an arm around the first year.

Tyl was soon joined by Terry Boot, a small boy with brown hair and dark eyes, and Mandy Brocklehurst, a tall girl with blue eyes and dark-blonde hair. The table became fuller still with the additions of Michael Corner, Stephen Cornfoot, and Kevin Entwhistle.

Anthony Goldstein, who Tyl had pegged as a Ravenclaw, was sorted into Gryffindor.

What really surprised the Black heir, however, was when Hermione Granger didn't join his house. He had expected that she, of all people, would have been a Ravenclaw – she certainly seemed keen to know things – but the hat put her with Gryffindor instead.

Su Li joined the Ravenclaws before Malfoy was sorted into Slytherin – no surprise there – and a set of twins was split up; Parvati Patil moving toward the Gryffindor table and Padma sitting beside Su. Lisa Turpin was the last to be sorted into Ravenclaw, and she was welcomed as surely as the other first years were.

The sorting continued on, and Ron was placed in Gryffindor – Percy had said, "Excellent, Ronald. Well done." – and soon there was no one left to sort. The Hat and stool were removed from the front of the room, and Tyl's Grandfather Albus stood from his seat. The hall fell silent, the students waiting for their headmaster to speak.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," he said, "Before you settle down to eat, I have a few words I would like to say. And they are: Fizz! Anomalous! Blubber! Tweet!

"Thank you." He sat down again, and food appeared on the tables. The students cheered and applauded, and soon everyone was dining merrily.

Tyl took the time to introduce himself to his new housemates. He found that for the most part they were really nice, if a bit chatty. Not that he wasn't used to following a conversation – his best friends were the Weasley twins, after all.

The green-eyed wizard tucked into his food, wholeheartedly enjoying his meal. As he was eating, he observed the teachers, noting a new presence at the staff table – although he was sure he'd seen him before.

The new teacher had dark hair and eyes; along with a nervous air about him. He seemed to be searching for someone among the students, but without much luck. His hands wrung together slightly as his eyes shifted from table to table.

"Who is that?" Tyl asked as he turned back to his plate.

"Who?" questioned Fred.

"The nervous one?" continued George.

"It's Professor –"

"Quirrell. He used to be –"

"The Muggle Studies –"

"Professor until a few years back –"

"Then he travelled around –"

"Then came back." George cocked his head to the side. "But now –"

"He teaches Defence."

Tyl nodded at the twins, a slight frown pulling at his lips. Terry, however, was staring at Tyl, awestruck.

"You understood that?" he demanded, eyes wide.

Tyl turned to him. "Of course," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "How could you not?"

Terry opened his mouth to reply, but then the last of the pudding disappeared and Tyl's grandfather stood once more.

"Now that you are all filled," he said, his eyes twinkling behind half-moon glasses, "I have a few things to say.

"First years should note that the Forbidden Forest is, of course, forbidden to all students," he said, eyeing the Weasley twins in particular – they smiled brightly back at him, identical glints in their eyes.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has also asked me to inform you that there is to be no magic performed in the corridors between classes.

"Finally, I must inform you that Quidditch trials will be held throughout the second week of the term. Any and all interested in playing for their house team would do well to remember this, and contact Madam Hooch." Grandfather Albus smiled benignly, his blue eyes trailing over the faces of his students.

"And now, before we head off to bed, we will sing our school song. Pick your favourite tune, and off we go."

And they did. It was probably the... silliest song Tyl had ever heard. His grandfather had flicked his wand, a golden ribbon flying out of the tip, and had conducted the song as the entire population of Hogwarts sang at different tempos. The Weasley twins had started singing the words to a funeral march, and despite his best efforts not to sing along, Tyl ultimately found himself humouring his two best friends.

The three Ravenclaws finished well after everyone else had gone silent, Albus directing them the entire way. When they had sung their last note, Fred and George squished Tyl between them as they smiled jovially at the rest of the school.

Albus clapped the loudest when the song ended, and seemed particularly proud as he watched the three socialize. He had thought the Weasley twins were energetic before, but with Tyl... he was like a piece that they didn't know they were missing until he was back. He wasn't sure what made the three of them such a good combination. Perhaps he was just being sentimental, but despite how different Tyl was from the twins – he was much quieter, for example – he seemed to make them work. Together, they looked so much happier than they had in previous years.

He didn't know if that was necessarily a good thing. Where the twins were, there trouble would also be.

But Albus supposed a little havoc every once in a while would lighten the mood caused by the war.

"Ah, music," he mused once the applause had died down, "One of the greatest forms of magic there is. Now it's time for bed. Pip pip."

The Ravenclaw first years followed one of the prefects as he led them through the school. The prefect took them up to the fifth floor and up a winding spiral staircase. When they reached a landing, the prefect turned to them.

"Listen up," he said in a tone that reminded Tyl of Hermione. "Getting into Ravenclaw is different than getting into other common rooms. Instead of the conventional password, you are expected to be able to answer a riddle. If you are unable to get it, you will have to wait outside until someone lets you in." He paused, looking significantly at the first years.

After a moment passed, he nodded, turning his back on the younger students. To the surprise of the first years, the bronze knocker came to life and asked a question:

'I have streets but no pavement.

I have cities but no buildings.

I have forests yet no trees.

I have rivers yet no water.

What am I?'

The first years were silent, not used to having to answer a riddle to go to bed – never mind the fact that they were collectively exhausted from such a long day. With a slight sigh, the prefect answered the riddle himself. "A map," he said with a dignified air.

"Excellent, well done," the knocker congratulated the prefect, and the door swung open, allowing the students to file into their common room.

The Ravenclaw common room was decorated in their house colours – blue and bronze – with a midnight-blue rug dotted with stars laid out on the middle of the floor. The room was a wide sphere, with a domed ceiling covered in a smattering of celestial bodies. The windows were grand arches, and Tyl was sure they had a spectacular view. Bookcases, tables and chairs were scattered throughout the room, and a white marble statue of Rowena Ravenclaw stood beside a second door.

The prefect led them to the door, directing the first years to their dormitories before bidding them good night.

Tyl found their dorm room at last – five four-poster beds with midnight-blue curtains – and quickly found his bed. Their trunks had already been brought up; one sitting at the foot of each bed.

Too tired to dawdle, Tyl changed into his pyjamas and climbed into bed, pulling the thick curtains closed.

He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

A/N: Has anyone seen A Very Potter Musical or A VeryPotter Sequel? If not, I highly recommend go watching them; I don't think I've laughed so hard.

Anyways, a lot of the scenes are similar to the first few chapters of the book, but... can't be helped, I suppose. The story will pick up a bit more in the future. So, please review, tell me what you like, dislike, love, hate... you know the drill ;)