“Ever had one of those days where you just want to hit something?”

“Occasionally.”

“Well, I’m having one of those months.”

-from a conversation between Harry Potter and Severus Snape.

Hi, Welcome to Hell, your stay will be indefinite.

Harry cursed under his breath and continued walking. He had just passed through the brick wall into Platform 9 and ¾. Out of spite more than anything, he was striding down the platform as though he didn’t have a care in the world. The entire area had gone quiet the instant he entered, but in his wake, hushed frantic murmurs were already beginning.

Crowds parted and he deposited his things on the train. After a few moments he stepped back out again, robes already on; they trailed behind him in a fashion similar to Professor Snape’s, but Harry didn’t realize it.

Cleopatra sat on his shoulder, seemingly doomed to remain tiny, but Hedwig had preferred the comfort of her cage. Both pets had been retrieved from Neville after the ‘retaliatory’ destruction of the guesthouse. They had been thrilled to see him. Harry walked to the wall, sinking in against it, and waiting. He was over an hour early so that he could keep track of who was returning, how they were returning and whether or not he was going to be harassed by them. A group of tightly packed Hufflepuffs scurried onto the train. Half a dozen seventh years were added, laughing over a joke from someone in the center. A smattering of Gryffindors. More Hufflepuffs. Ravenclaws. Hufflepuffs again. He continued to watch, and began to notice the trends.

The people most separated from the war had already arrived. No Slytherins. And most importantly, he had yet to see a single Muggle-born or half-blood. Must be traveling some other way.

He waited, still in the shadows, until the clock read 10:45, and they arrived. First was a wave of Slytherin students, led by none other than Draco Malfoy. Moving as though the war had already been won, the cut the throng in two and entered the train. All of them were working for Voldemort at some level.

The second wave of people was the one he was really dreading though. Nearly the entire Order of the Phoenix slid out of the brick wall. Ron, Ginny, Hermione, and nearly his entire house was clustered in the center of their guards. Harry shook his head, disgusted, and left the shadow. Gasps could be heard while he crossed the platform, and a tense babble broke out as he climbed back aboard.

>=====<

His compartment was empty, and had remained so since the train had departed. Neville had stopped by once. “I know Harry,” he had said, “I can’t stay, but I wanted to say hi, my Gran wants to say thanks for taking down the guest house, and so long as I’m here, have you seen Trevor?” Harry had shaken his head. “Alright, well if anyone asks, I was threatening your life for attacking my home, and you were threatening to do it again. Sound good? Ok, bye Harry.” Then he had left.

Harry shook his head, and leaned back. His eyes, against his will, began to flicker closed, and he slowly succumbed to a few hours rest.

Wormtail shuddered and knelt at the foot of the Dark Lord. “Why is it precisely, Worm, that you are incapable of even the simplest task?”

“Lord, I—”

“Silence. I have asked you to gather information on where the Goblins have moved their new capital. You reported nothing, and you found nothing. Why is that?”

“Sir, lord, I—”

“Crucio.”

The curse ripped through his body, agony searing at his nerves. It was all-absorbing. There was nothing but the pain. The pain and the screams. Agony. He twisted on the floor, trying to escape, though whether from Voldemort, or from the pain, or from himself he wasn’t sure. All that mattered was the pain; the undeniable, inescapable, never ending torture inflicted with such a small word.

His jaw was begging from mercy, but the screams couldn’t be held back. They jumped from his mouth, sapping his energy and his air. Even when there was no oxygen left in his lungs, he continued to howl in pain.

It would never end. Never end. Never. Never—

Harry rolled and flung himself to his feet, drawing his wand a pointing it at his attacker. Malfoy sneered at the wand between his eyes. “What are you doing in here Malfoy?”

The sneer amplified. “Your incessant screaming woke me up, so I decided to return the favor. Would you rather I hadn’t? Oh, I forgot, Gryffindors never needs to be helped, do they?” Harry felt a headache coming. If his guess—based entirely on experience—was right, it would be nasty.

“No, we don’t actually. Not by something like you.”

“And what, am I Potter that can raise such compassion?”

“A Slytherin Death Eater’s Son.”

He scowled, “Somewhat more than that.”

“Don’t give me the poor, pitiful me shit that you're so good at. Your life may be shit, but mine can win.”

“Of course, no one could ever suffer more the Gryffindor’s Golden boy.”

“In case you haven’t noticed Malfoy, I am not exactly anyone’s ‘Golden boy’ anymore. Unless you’ve stopped reading the papers, or even using your hearing for that matter, you know that I have fallen somewhat out of favor with the whole bloody wizarding world.”

“Poor you.”

Harry contorted his face into hate, but mentally he was enjoying the encounter. It was a perfect chance to loose some of the bottled up rage, and since neither boy was really being insulted, since neither really cared, they couldn’t have found a better situation.

“Yes, Poor me. Poor, poor, pitiful me. Betrayed by the wizarding world, on the run, hunted by a homicidal-maniac, and I don’t have any of my itsy-bitsy friends around anymore to back-stab me.” He was starting to use a baby voice, mocking multiple people at once. Boo. Hoo.”

“You have no idea what pain is.” Malfoy’s voice had dropped to a low hiss.

“Oh yes, relieving Voldemort’s torturing games, and feeling the pain of it, waking up in a cold sweat after watching a murder, being the underlying reason for the murders, that isn’t pain at all.”

Harry didn’t think that Malfoy would ever look shocked in public, or that he could pale in something vaguely resembling fear, but he found himself proven wrong. “Potter,” He said slowly, cruelly, “You suffer vicariously. You don’t have to murder, you aren’t there watching it live, and it certainly isn’t your body being ripped apart and tortured. You have no right to say anything to me.”

With that he was gone, out into the corridor, robes flicking behind him.

As he stepped out, another entered, the last person Harry wanted to see. Well, no, the last person I want to see right now is Tom, but this is definitely in the top ten.

Ron had entered the compartment.

Must not break his nose. Must not break his nose. Must not break his nose.

“What was he doing in here?”

Harry glared, “We were plotting the destruction of Hogwarts and planning our next routine meeting with Voldemort. You know? That great man whom I serve so loyally? What, don’t you remember him?”

“You fucking bastard.” That was all the redhead could manage to get out before he was shoved outside with a door slamming in his face.

Harry very calmly cast a silencing charm on the compartment, ignored the pain in his throat, and committed primal scream therapy.

>=====<

Hours passed. Luckily, no one else bothered him, unluckily, he could not go back to sleep. Finally the trained rolled into the station. They unloaded quickly. Harry’s presence had the same effect it had at the platform. Happy babbles ahead of him, silence around him, and frantic whispers following.

He greeted the thestrals, terrified a few second years, and had a carriage to himself. “Prongs, as Quidditch captain this year, I should probably try to come up with plans. I think I have one already. Step one: I fly onto the field. Step two: I look at them. Step Three: They wet themselves. Step Four: They forfeit, and we win. It just might work.”

The carriage deposited him directly outside the front doors, and without waiting, he strode into the Great Hall, seating himself at the first seat he reached, also known as the farthest from the Headmaster as was possible while staying in the same room. His Slytherin side came into dominance as the others entered, and his demeanor changed drastically.

He sat with a ramrod straight back despite the pain it caused. He met his enemies’ eyes. He glared to the best of the ability. Even when his headache reached its potential, he kept his face free of the pain.

Malfoy’s face alone was worth the effort. Clearly Slytherin-Harry was disturbing for the boy.

The most amusing thing in the affair was his own house. They seemed on the edge of either tears or screams. Lavender nearly fainted as she met Harry’s eyes. Gryffindor’s assigned table was remarkably lopsided that evening, and Harry had the sneaking suspicion that they were planning on putting the new first years in the laps of older students if it was necessary to keep them away from Harry.

Hopefully it won’t come to that.

Harry could feel eyes watching him, and scanned the room. Most people were terrified to look at him. Malfoy though was still staring, this time in a more calculating, controlled manner. Bloody spy. Harry thought with a mental snort.

The sorting began, and out of boredom more then interest, Harry listened.

In time of Gloom and Time of Fear,

Throughout this age and past,

A place has lived that you now know,

Where hope will always last.

Hogwarts by name, you call it so,

Has stood for many years,

But in the start, just like now,

An enmity does grow.

Between four houses, strong and proud,

Festers deadly hate,

Together all must bond as one,

Before it is too late.

New Students who have now arrived,

Hearken to my voice,

Of these four great houses,

There no must be your choice.

Will you be fit for Hufflepuff?

It may that is right,

For in this house dwell the true

And loyalty binds tight.

Perhaps it is in Ravenclaw,

That you are bound to stay,

Here are those that seek to learn,

And are given their way.

But now, my friends, comes the rift,

That I spoke of before,

A story has been lost in legend,

But I well know my lore.

Gryffindor and Slytherin, you may know,

Held a gap between,

Since In the pair were two strong minds,

A compromise was never seen.

Over time the gap grew larger,

Over time it grew,

Until at last, they broke apart,

And Slytherin then flew.

Friends, I now must beg of you,

These times may be our bane,

Choices will be laid before you,

But two houses remain.

In Gryffindor you seek to go?

It may or may not be,

Those who fight against all odds,

Will ever meet the fee.

Lastly still you may be Slytherin,

Though chances are yet small,

For few are quick and sly enough,

To reside within their hall.

Listen to me, now I pray, for I am jesting not,

The time of darkness comes apace,

Join as one, and cross the rift of hate,

To meet this terror in the face.

Harry blinked slowly. The hall was in shock. Even the professors were dead in their tracks. The hat just seemed proud of itself.

Finally Professor McGonagall regained enough sanity to call the first name on her scroll. Remarkably, the sorting went smoothly after the initial scare. There were thirty-one new students, seventeen boys and twelve girls.

Harry kept a list of each new student. Eleven went to Hufflepuff—the largest new class. Ravenclaw received seven. Gryffindor took nine. Slytherin had four. The tension at the Slytherin table was tangible in the air, and had already absorbed the Ravenclaws beside them.

“Now,” Dumbledore began, only slightly unsure, “I have a few start of term announcements to make. First, I need to introduce our new Defense Professor. If you would please.” He gestured and a petite woman stood up with a grin. “This is Professor Jen Demival. She comes to us from Australia. Thank you. I remind you that the Forbidden Forest remains that way, that the list of banned items has been expanded, and that the Quidditch Cup will take place this year.” He paused, and Harry knew what was coming. “Despite the removal of the Educational Decrees of last year, Hogwarts will honor the newest piece of legislation passed by the Ministry.” Traitor by Association Act. “A full copy of the law can be found in the library. Thank you again. And now, may the feast begin.”

Harry watched the food appear in front of him, but a tiny voice, one of the few ones that cared anymore, was crying in his mind. The meal looked incredible, and the Gryffindors looked pained by how tightly packed they were. His appetite had vanished. He sighed to himself, unheard by anyone else. Rising, he walked up the length of the table to the others. The first years, several of whom were indeed seated in the laps of older students, quailed. “Move down, and spread out if you want to.”

He began to walk away again, but stopped at the harsh voice behind him. “Where are you going?”

A somewhat sadistic grin curved Harry’s lips. “I’m plotting for the destruction of Hogwarts, what else would a traitor like me do, Weasley? Oh, you might want to be careful though. You are talking to me, and this act may fall under the Ministry’s new law. Be careful. I’d hate for something to happen.”

Harry walked to Professor McGonagall and asked apathetically, “Password?”

“Loyalty.”

He bit back his comment, and walked out, a headache beating in his head, his heart screaming for a chance to cry, and his mind silencing both of them.

Hell, indeed.