"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of term. Anyone interested in playing for their house teams should contact Madam Hooch or their Heads of Houses.
"And finally, I must tell you that this year, the third floor corridor on the right hand side is out of bounds to all those who do not wish to die a most painful death."
Harry's eyes narrowed and few around him nervously laughed as prefects were warily questioned. He took it as a sign that his was rare and resolved to investigate as soon as possible; it could prove very beneficial for him to do so if a painful death was the result of failure. People rarely guarded unimportant things to quite that extreme.
"And now, before we go to bed, let us sing the school song!" Dumbledore cried, drawing his wand. "Everyone pick a tune and let's go."
Teachers smiles became fixed and the entirety of Slytherin table clamped their mouths shut in rather firm lines as lyrics appeared before them in cursive ribbons and the other three houses sang, or at least that is what one would call it if one were feeling generous.
"Hogwarts, Hogwarts, Hoggy, Warty Hogwarts
"Teach us something please
"Whether we be old and bald
"Or young with scabby knees
"Our heads could do with filling
"With some interesting stuff
"For now they're bare and full of air
"Dead flies and bits of fluff
"So teach us things worth knowing
"Bring back what we've forgot
Just do your best, we'll do the rest
And learn until our brains all rot."
Much of Slytherin sneered as the students all finished at different paces, the Weasley twins finishing last at a slow funeral march. Dumbledore conducted their last few lines with an unnecessary flourish and once all fell silent, he was one of those who clapped the loudest. Harry surprised much of Slytherin by clapping also, though his was one of mocking sarcasm, a bored look on his face.
"Ah, music," sighed the meddlesome fool, wiping his eyes. "A magic beyond all we do here! And now, bedtime. Off you trot!"
Cool and collected as they should be, Slytherin House stood, the prefects ushering the first years to flock before them, and they left calmly rather than the rushed madness that ensued when the other houses attempted to leave through the wide double doors. Harry ducked his head so that no-one could hear the insane giggle that escaped him or see the terrifyingly mad grin that had formed on his face. He was in. He'd been sorted. And oh, let the games begin.
He sat in the windowsill beside his bed, looking out into the depths of the Black Lake as his dorm-mates slept. They had been split into two groups, the boys, and he had found himself in a dorm with Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zambini. He was pleased. They at least had the intelligence to converse pleasantly with, unlike the two aspiring trolls, Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe.
Unbeknownst to everyone except one, the young survivor had a haunting singing voice like no other. It was not beautiful and nor was it unpleasant, it just was and it pulled and tugged at your very core, bowing and submitting it to listen and to drown in its watery depths. It was. It had been. And it would be. It was a soul, a voice, magic at its purest and so it sung, deep into the night.
"I wish that I had known in that first minute we met, the unpayable debt that I owed you.
'Cause you'd been abused by that bone that refused you, and you hired me to make up for that."
Unknowingly, the two sleeping boys shivered in their sleep as the melody, the lyrics, bled into their dreams, casting a haunting outlook as they slept on. And still the young survivor continued, almost hoping that the intended could hear, and draw comfort from the fact he had not forgotten and he would never forget.
"Walking in that room when you had tubes in your arms, those singing morphine alarms out of tune.
They kept you sleeping and even, and I didn't believe them when they called you a hurricane thunderclap."
His usually cold eyes were glazed and full of raw power and emotion and no-one had never and could never see him; not in this private moment. It was not to be shared.
"When I was checking vitals I suggested a smile. You didn't talk for a while, you were freezing.
You said you hated my tone, it made you feel so alone, and so you told me I ought to be leaving."
....
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