Kaelen spent the next two months studying like never before. He read all his schoolbooks from front to back, learning not just the spells but the idea behind the magic. He practiced the wand movements in his small, dark room until the yew wand felt like a part of his own arm.
But he spent the most time on the secret book he'd bought, the one about the mind. It was a very hard book, way too advanced for a first-year, but he worked on it every night. He practiced the exercises for protecting his thoughts, picturing his mind as a strong, stone castle. He imagined locking all his feelings—his sadness for Elara, his anger at the world—away in a deep, dark dungeon inside that castle.
On the morning of September first, he woke up before the sun. He put on his new, plain clothes, packed his trunk, and walked out of the orphanage without saying goodbye to anyone. He took the bus to King's Cross Station easily.
He found the wall between Platforms Nine and Ten and just watched. Soon, he saw a big family with bright red hair run straight at the brick wall and disappear, one by one. It was a simple and smart trick. He waited for them to go, then calmly pushed his cart, started to jog, and ran right through the barrier.
On the other side was the bright red Hogwarts Express, surrounded by clouds of steam and hundreds of witches and wizards. Kaelen ignored all the crying parents and friends hugging each other. He found an empty compartment at the very back of the train, lifted his trunk onto the rack, and sat down with his mind-reading book, blocking out the world.
He was reading a chapter about how to feel if someone was trying to peek into his thoughts when the compartment door slid open. A nervous boy with a round face poked his head in.
"Sorry," he mumbled, "but have you seen a toad? I've lost him."
Kaelen didn't look up from his book. "No."
The boy, Neville Longbottom, gulped and left. A moment later, the door opened again. This time it was a girl with very bushy brown hair who was, for some reason, already wearing her school robes.
"Has anyone seen a toad? A boy named Neville's lost one," she asked in a bossy voice. Then she saw Kaelen's book. "Is that Mind Arts and the Defended Self? That's a sixth-year book! Do you actually understand it?"
Kaelen slowly looked up. He could see that she was smart and loved to learn, but she was also awkward and trying too hard. She might be useful, he thought, but she is also very annoying.
"I do," he said. He used his magic just a little, making his face look a bit older and more serious. "Did you need something, or are you just asking everyone what book they're reading?"
The girl, Hermione Granger, turned red. "I just thought it was interesting," she said. "I'm Hermione Granger. And you are?"
"Busy," Kaelen replied, and looked back down at his book.
Hermione huffed, offended, and slammed the door shut. Kaelen didn't even flinch.
An hour later, the door opened a third time. A skinny boy with slicked-back, platinum-blond hair stood there with two big, tough-looking boys. He looked at Kaelen's plain clothes and sneered.
"They're saying Harry Potter is on this train," the boy said in a slow, snooty voice. "Seen him?"
"No," Kaelen said without looking up.
"Didn't think so," the boy sneered. As he was turning to leave, he noticed a girl with long, dark hair standing behind him. Her name was Daphne Greengrass, and she was watching Kaelen with cool, curious eyes.
Kaelen finally closed his book. He looked at the blond boy's expensive robes and the arrogant way he stood.
"Let me guess," Kaelen said softly. "Your mom picked out your clothes. You act tough, but you're really insecure. You use these two as bodyguards because you're a coward. You think you're important because of your family name, but you haven't done anything to earn it."
Kaelen leaned forward, his eyes cold. "You're a puppet who just repeats what his father says. So no, I haven't seen Harry Potter. But I see you. And I'm not impressed."
The blond boy's pale face turned bright red with anger. "You... you filthy..." he stammered, reaching for his wand.
"Filthy what?" Kaelen interrupted smoothly. "Mudblood? Is that the word your father uses? You can't even think of your own insult. You're empty. Now, close the door on your way out."
He opened his book again. The boy, Draco Malfoy, was speechless. He had been completely and easily taken apart. Before he could do anything, the girl, Daphne, put a hand on his arm. "He's not worth it, Draco," she said. She gave Kaelen one last, long look, like she was trying to figure out a puzzle, and then pulled the angry, embarrassed Malfoy away.
Kaelen was left alone for the rest of the ride. When he saw Hogwarts castle for the first time, he had to admit it was impressive. It looked like a giant fortress. A good place to learn.
He shared a boat across the dark lake with Neville, ignoring the other kids' nervous chatter. Soon, they were all standing in a crowd, waiting to be sorted into their houses. Kaelen studied the other students, and then he noticed the famous Harry Potter—a skinny boy with messy black hair and broken glasses, who looked just as nervous as everyone else. Kaelen decided he wasn't a threat.
"Kaelen Malice!" Professor McGonagall called out.
The Great Hall went quiet as he walked to the stool. The name echoed. It wasn't a name he was born with; he didn't have one. It was the name he had chosen for himself. When Professor McGonagall had visited him at the orphanage to finalize his school registration, she had asked for his full name. "Kaelen," he'd said. "Just Kaelen."
"You'll need a surname for the records, Mr. Kaelen," she had insisted gently.
He had thought for a moment, not about family, but about the cold, hard feeling inside him that kept him safe, the feeling he'd felt when Elara died. He thought of the bullies and the ice in his own heart. "Malice," he'd said, his voice flat.
Professor McGonagall's lips thinned. "No, change it to something else," she insisted gently. "A surname is not a joke. Please take this seriously."
Kaelen met her gaze, his own eyes flat and unchanging. "Malice."
Professor McGonagall had looked startled, not by the name, but by his cold, unmoving certainty. Seeing he would not budge, she wrote it down without saying anything else.
Now, Kaelen Malice, the boy who named himself, sat on the stool. McGonagall placed the old, dusty Sorting Hat on his head.
Well now, a voice whispered inside his head. Another young mind to—
The Hat stopped. It felt... nothing. It had been inside thousands of minds, but it had never felt a mind like this. It was like pushing against a smooth, cold, stone wall. A perfect castle with no way in.
What is this? the Hat asked, confused. It tried to push deeper, but something pushed back. The boy was studying it.
The Hat pushed harder, using all its strength, and finally broke through a crack in the wall. What it found inside made it want to scream. It didn't find normal memories; it found a library, where every thought was perfectly sorted on a shelf. It didn't find feelings; it found empty prison cells where sadness and anger were locked away. The Hat saw the promise he made at Elara's grave. It saw his cold belief that kindness was a weakness, and that only power mattered.
The Hat felt a fear it had never known. This wasn't like a normal Dark Lord who just wanted power. This was a cold, smart darkness that thought the world was broken and needed to be fixed, no matter who got hurt. It was a darkness that was somehow scarier than Voldemort's.
Get me off! the Hat screamed inside Kaelen's head. You don't belong in any house! You belong in a cage!
Kaelen's mind didn't move. You have a job to do, he thought back, his mind like ice. Do it.
The Great Hall was completely silent. The Hat had been on Kaelen's head for almost three minutes. Suddenly, the Hat shouted, its voice strained and full of fear for all to hear.
"SLYTHERIN!"
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