June 2018
The air rushed passed as the ground came up to meet him. His back collided with the ground first, several things breaking upon impact as the air was ripped from his lungs. He had no time to reorient himself, to even get a breath back in his lungs, before he was rolling out of the way of the incoming attack. Pain rippled down his back, weakening the muscles in his arms and legs as he tried to get distance between him and his assailant. Another dodged attack and another till he misstepped and took a hit to the shoulder followed by a hit to the chest. His back collided with a wall, agitating breaks and breaking a few more things. The pained cry slipped out with the air in his lungs.
Words were being spoken as he collapsed to his hands and knees. What had once been beautiful wings looked battered and unkept, draped from his back as useless limbs since far too much was broken now. He looked up through sweaty locks, finding his vision blurred and images duplicating.
That wasn't a good sign.
A hand suddenly came into clear focus and he flinched back, expecting a hit. Instead, the hand fisted the front of his outfit and hauled him upwards so that the other could scream in his face. What headache he had been managing intensified ten fold, blinding him with pain. He grabbed at his assailant's wrist, snarling but unaware of the words he was uttering, if any. His tongue felt too fat to even utter things properly and the ringing in his ears was helping none.
He was dropped. While normally it wouldn't have been an issue - he could have stood up and been taller than the hold had been - there was no strength in his legs to even fathom attempting to support himself with. The impact with the unforgiving ground was crippling and he swore he broke something else. A wrist, probably, with how he had landed. There was too much pain and too much exhaustion to discern anything properly now.
Something touched him and he flinched. His head throbbed from the motion and he spat something. Words, he hoped, but at that point, could have been jargon and saliva and he wouldn't even know. Nor did he care but it certainly hadn't stopped whatever had touched him from touching him again.
He realized hands were pressing firm into his shoulder and hip, though there was no pain from the touch, like the person wasn't putting any weight behind the gesture.
Blessed relief rushed through his body as the pain all but vanished.
When he came to, it was to a sore body cushioned in a familiar room.
He closed his eyes as he ground out, "Who let you into my home."
There was a pause but the shifting of fabric told him he wasn't alone.
"We...didn't take you home," came the hesitant reply.
He opened his eyes again. No, that was indeed a very familiar roof and a very familiar set of walls at the edge of his viewing limits. He turned his head, taking in the guests to the left of his bed. The furniture and trinkets were his.
"Lies," he spoke but it came out breathy. "This is my room. Those are my things."
He watched the surprise and horror wash over the faces he could see. He wondered if there were others in the room mirroring their expressions. The girl sitting beside his bed had her hands over her mouth. She had figured it out faster than the others, it seemed. That or they were new. Wouldn't surprise him at this point.
"Alexander," she whispered.
One of the boys behind her started, his staring going from her to him in an instant. He would have smirked if he had the energy.
He head pounded painfully.
"It's been a while since we've been on a first name basis, Rebecca," he replied in kind. His gaze moved to the boy staring at him. "You look well, Marcus. I'm impressed you've lasted so long."
"Sir, what's going on?" a voice asked from somewhere he couldn't see. He didn't care to move to look.
The other boy behind her looked towards the owner of the question. "In a minute."
He blinked and suddenly those kids weren't kids anymore. Heck, they had never been kids despite the ages they bore. Young adults too young and now they were all well into adulthood and looking it. He was certainly feeling it.
Rebecca's marred hands closed around his, the scars of countless battles pale on every inch of exposed skin. Marcus behind her had a nasty one on his face. He was certain he had given the other man that particular scar, destroying one of the man's depth-less blue eyes.
He still didn't recognize the kid with them.
It was probably unfair to call the adult a child but, at this point after all he and the others had seen in the beginning, they were all kids to him.
"Alexander," Rebecca spoke again, her voice stronger this time. "Why..."
He wasn't surprised she couldn't finish that. He was certain she had so many 'why's to ask that they were all blending in that quick mind of hers. She had always been one to fight against the onslaught of words in her head.
"I didn't ask for this roll, Bear," he confided, the old nickname bringing tears to her eyes faster than any speech would. "I didn't even want to take it up but I ended up in it and I had to keep to it or my past was going to take me out and destroy all we had done to hold what remained of the world together."
Marcus shook his head. "You could have leaned on us. Spoken to us. We weren't about to abandon you."
A tight, tired smile pulled at his lips. "You two might not have, but Tenner certainly would have. Pin too." Marcus shook his head again. "Same with Lolly and Hector, not to mention that you two would have at the time as well. We were too seeped into the black and white views on 'Good and Evil'. It's why I never said anything, why I hid it."
"For so long?" Rebecca choked.
He sighed, too tired to placate her. "I had no proof you guys had changed. Those you brought on seemed too bound to the old ways for me to try."
"But Sasha-"
"That she-wolf can go-!" he screamed, the force of his anger actually propelling him upwards till the action registered in his body and sent rolling pain through his body. His words jerked to a stop as Rebecca and Marcus leapt forward, hands outstretched. He curled away trying not to hack up a lung.
It just made the sudden coughing fit worse.
By the time he was able to breathe again, he was on his back once more, Those that had been on the other side of the bed were closer now and he was surprised to see a few more recognizable faces in among the crowd leaning over his bed.
"What did Sasha do?" one of the unnamed familiars asked.
He gave a dry chuckle. He lacked the air to support it fully or the words he spoke. "What didn't she do." The breath he took rattled, pain erupting through him at the same time. He winced. "Not that it matters. You guys did more damage than she ever did."
"Alexander."
He flinched. He was trying to ignore the fact that they were in the room, trying to deny himself the painful joy of even knowing their eyes were on him once more. He denied himself the knowledge that they held nothing more for him in those gorgeous eyes.
Their hand burned his skin when they touched him but he had no strength to pull away.
"What did Sasha do?"
Even after all these years - after all the years of pain and torture he had been through by his own doing and the doing of others - he could not keep himself from giving them what they wanted.
He wasn't sure if it was his heart hurting or if it was actual physical damage he was feeling.
"Betrayed me as I betrayed you." He couldn't bring himself to specify which 'you' he was referring. "Twisted my mind, my thoughts, till I believed lies and damaging thoughts. Not that it matters. I've overcome it as I do anything else."
Their hand tightened on him.
He wished they'd let go.
"Did she sway you to that side?"
"No, I swayed her." He frowned. No, that wasn't quite right, was it? "I think," he added, confused. Odd how he couldn't remember so clearly anymore.
"Do you think-" Rebecca started to ask the others but he cut in, annoyed and hopefully two steps ahead of her.
"I am not coming back," he cut in. "There is too much at stake, too much that has to change before I come back."
"But-"
He didn't give them the change, didn't dare look at them as he yanked his arm out from under their touch. He felt unbelievably cold as he slipped out of the bed brushing away Rebecca and Marcus's hands. He was grateful the bed was between them.
"Thank you, for your kindness," he offered solemnly, his wings still aching even as he knew they were well healed. Rebecca's healing magic was always so impressive, not to mention she probably had help once he had been brought into his old room if not before. "I will take my leave now."
"You won't be able to come back."
He stopped in the doorway leading to the balcony he still dreamt about. He turned back, forgetting for a moment how horrible of an idea it was to look at them, to make them real. Their gorgeous eyes held no contempt, no hate. In fact, the love they still held for him made it so much harder and far more painful to even breathe than he would have ever thought possible. He tried to smirk at them but it felt off on his face.
He hoped they couldn't tell.
"I was never planning to come back."
He took off before the pain in their gaze could register in his brain because when it did, when that image seared itself into his mind well after he had looked away, the anguish he felt was devastating.
Words were being spoken as he collapsed to his hands and knees. What had once been beautiful wings looked battered and unkept, draped from his back as useless limbs since far too much was broken now. He looked up through sweaty locks, finding his vision blurred and images duplicating.
That wasn't a good sign.
A hand suddenly came into clear focus and he flinched back, expecting a hit. Instead, the hand fisted the front of his outfit and hauled him upwards so that the other could scream in his face. What headache he had been managing intensified ten fold, blinding him with pain. He grabbed at his assailant's wrist, snarling but unaware of the words he was uttering, if any. His tongue felt too fat to even utter things properly and the ringing in his ears was helping none.
He was dropped. While normally it wouldn't have been an issue - he could have stood up and been taller than the hold had been - there was no strength in his legs to even fathom attempting to support himself with. The impact with the unforgiving ground was crippling and he swore he broke something else. A wrist, probably, with how he had landed. There was too much pain and too much exhaustion to discern anything properly now.
Something touched him and he flinched. His head throbbed from the motion and he spat something. Words, he hoped, but at that point, could have been jargon and saliva and he wouldn't even know. Nor did he care but it certainly hadn't stopped whatever had touched him from touching him again.
He realized hands were pressing firm into his shoulder and hip, though there was no pain from the touch, like the person wasn't putting any weight behind the gesture.
Blessed relief rushed through his body as the pain all but vanished.
When he came to, it was to a sore body cushioned in a familiar room.
He closed his eyes as he ground out, "Who let you into my home."
There was a pause but the shifting of fabric told him he wasn't alone.
"We...didn't take you home," came the hesitant reply.
He opened his eyes again. No, that was indeed a very familiar roof and a very familiar set of walls at the edge of his viewing limits. He turned his head, taking in the guests to the left of his bed. The furniture and trinkets were his.
"Lies," he spoke but it came out breathy. "This is my room. Those are my things."
He watched the surprise and horror wash over the faces he could see. He wondered if there were others in the room mirroring their expressions. The girl sitting beside his bed had her hands over her mouth. She had figured it out faster than the others, it seemed. That or they were new. Wouldn't surprise him at this point.
"Alexander," she whispered.
One of the boys behind her started, his staring going from her to him in an instant. He would have smirked if he had the energy.
He head pounded painfully.
"It's been a while since we've been on a first name basis, Rebecca," he replied in kind. His gaze moved to the boy staring at him. "You look well, Marcus. I'm impressed you've lasted so long."
"Sir, what's going on?" a voice asked from somewhere he couldn't see. He didn't care to move to look.
The other boy behind her looked towards the owner of the question. "In a minute."
He blinked and suddenly those kids weren't kids anymore. Heck, they had never been kids despite the ages they bore. Young adults too young and now they were all well into adulthood and looking it. He was certainly feeling it.
Rebecca's marred hands closed around his, the scars of countless battles pale on every inch of exposed skin. Marcus behind her had a nasty one on his face. He was certain he had given the other man that particular scar, destroying one of the man's depth-less blue eyes.
He still didn't recognize the kid with them.
It was probably unfair to call the adult a child but, at this point after all he and the others had seen in the beginning, they were all kids to him.
"Alexander," Rebecca spoke again, her voice stronger this time. "Why..."
He wasn't surprised she couldn't finish that. He was certain she had so many 'why's to ask that they were all blending in that quick mind of hers. She had always been one to fight against the onslaught of words in her head.
"I didn't ask for this roll, Bear," he confided, the old nickname bringing tears to her eyes faster than any speech would. "I didn't even want to take it up but I ended up in it and I had to keep to it or my past was going to take me out and destroy all we had done to hold what remained of the world together."
Marcus shook his head. "You could have leaned on us. Spoken to us. We weren't about to abandon you."
A tight, tired smile pulled at his lips. "You two might not have, but Tenner certainly would have. Pin too." Marcus shook his head again. "Same with Lolly and Hector, not to mention that you two would have at the time as well. We were too seeped into the black and white views on 'Good and Evil'. It's why I never said anything, why I hid it."
"For so long?" Rebecca choked.
He sighed, too tired to placate her. "I had no proof you guys had changed. Those you brought on seemed too bound to the old ways for me to try."
"But Sasha-"
"That she-wolf can go-!" he screamed, the force of his anger actually propelling him upwards till the action registered in his body and sent rolling pain through his body. His words jerked to a stop as Rebecca and Marcus leapt forward, hands outstretched. He curled away trying not to hack up a lung.
It just made the sudden coughing fit worse.
By the time he was able to breathe again, he was on his back once more, Those that had been on the other side of the bed were closer now and he was surprised to see a few more recognizable faces in among the crowd leaning over his bed.
"What did Sasha do?" one of the unnamed familiars asked.
He gave a dry chuckle. He lacked the air to support it fully or the words he spoke. "What didn't she do." The breath he took rattled, pain erupting through him at the same time. He winced. "Not that it matters. You guys did more damage than she ever did."
"Alexander."
He flinched. He was trying to ignore the fact that they were in the room, trying to deny himself the painful joy of even knowing their eyes were on him once more. He denied himself the knowledge that they held nothing more for him in those gorgeous eyes.
Their hand burned his skin when they touched him but he had no strength to pull away.
"What did Sasha do?"
Even after all these years - after all the years of pain and torture he had been through by his own doing and the doing of others - he could not keep himself from giving them what they wanted.
He wasn't sure if it was his heart hurting or if it was actual physical damage he was feeling.
"Betrayed me as I betrayed you." He couldn't bring himself to specify which 'you' he was referring. "Twisted my mind, my thoughts, till I believed lies and damaging thoughts. Not that it matters. I've overcome it as I do anything else."
Their hand tightened on him.
He wished they'd let go.
"Did she sway you to that side?"
"No, I swayed her." He frowned. No, that wasn't quite right, was it? "I think," he added, confused. Odd how he couldn't remember so clearly anymore.
"Do you think-" Rebecca started to ask the others but he cut in, annoyed and hopefully two steps ahead of her.
"I am not coming back," he cut in. "There is too much at stake, too much that has to change before I come back."
"But-"
He didn't give them the change, didn't dare look at them as he yanked his arm out from under their touch. He felt unbelievably cold as he slipped out of the bed brushing away Rebecca and Marcus's hands. He was grateful the bed was between them.
"Thank you, for your kindness," he offered solemnly, his wings still aching even as he knew they were well healed. Rebecca's healing magic was always so impressive, not to mention she probably had help once he had been brought into his old room if not before. "I will take my leave now."
"You won't be able to come back."
He stopped in the doorway leading to the balcony he still dreamt about. He turned back, forgetting for a moment how horrible of an idea it was to look at them, to make them real. Their gorgeous eyes held no contempt, no hate. In fact, the love they still held for him made it so much harder and far more painful to even breathe than he would have ever thought possible. He tried to smirk at them but it felt off on his face.
He hoped they couldn't tell.
"I was never planning to come back."
He took off before the pain in their gaze could register in his brain because when it did, when that image seared itself into his mind well after he had looked away, the anguish he felt was devastating.
They called it growth.
Actually, the technical term was House Adjustment. With so many years gone since the war ended, and after so much had changed - good and bad - it was deemed important that students that grew out of their house were properly resorted the next year.
Rumor had it that it wasn't a choice made by the Education Board or the school staff. Students were just suddenly being reassigned houses and people were trying to hide that it was the castle's doing.
The first time it happened, there had been severe backlash. It had been so long ago, it's only in the words of those in their last year, those that were told by those long since gone from the castle grounds. The backlash didn't come from the parents till after the events in among the student body itself but by that point, it was too late.
Twenty students of varying years over the span of three months woke up to find that their school attire had changed color. The first three - a Sixth Year Ravenclaw, a Fourth Year Gryffindor, and a Seventh Year Slytherin - thought that their housemates were pulling a prank till their Head of House came for them. The Slytherin was now a Hufflepuff, the Ravenclaw now a Slytherin, and the Gryffindor now a Ravenclaw. Out of the three, surprisingly the Ravenclaw had the easiest time adapting. The Gryffindor supposedly had things to prove but it was nothing compared to the backlash the Slytherin got not from Hufflepuffs, but from their old house.
Despite the teachers doing their best to put things back, none of the students were able to access their old houses. Despite the teachers doing their best to run interference, Hufflepuffs proved to be not only loyal but brave and cunning during those short months of turmoil. It worked out better for all in the long run.
The next batch of student gained their new colors two weeks after the first and changed everything. Suddenly there was a camaraderie among the Turncoats - the label placed upon them regardless of their lack of choice in the matter - and it wasn't uncommon to see groups of mixed houses all over the castle. Classes were suddenly blended and at the start of the near year, the schedule system had been completely revamped.
Shift quickly replaced Turncoat.
After a few years, Shifts were common. They didn't happen as regularly after the initial onslaught of recoloring but they were common enough that each house had grown to creating certain rituals for reintroduction into a new house, some kinder than others and the more severe generally being apart of the highest most years. First Years never became Shifts. Only a small few - a very small few - of Second Years had ever become Shifts and the stories surrounding why they were Shifts were never pleasant.
But to find that one has shifted out of the house system? Now that was unheard of.
That is, till he was staring at the solid white tie in his hand.
"Just what I need," he muttered, clenching the tie. The robe still on his trunk had a blank white crest, void of any other color beyond the initial black of the robe itself. The sound in the room told him that the others hadn't noticed yet as he carefully wrapped the tie in the robe and made it a little package before anyone else could notice.
"Where you going?" one of the other boys called out. "We've still got a few minutes before we were planning on hitting breakfast."
The smile came easily to his face as he half lied. "I want to stop by the library before class."
"With your robes under one arm?" There was a spattering of chuckles and his smile grew.
"Hey, got to hang on to the last of the weekend somehow."
That got a riot of laughter out of them and he took the chance to truly step away and close the door behind him. His heart was pounding in his chest but the relief of not quite getting caught was calming his nerves.
He quickly left his house - ex-house, if what he had bundled under his arm was anything to go by - and prayed that if they did gather his belongings, they found all of them. He had items stashed for a reason and he wasn't about to leave them behind.
He nearly ran face first into his Head of House. There was a stern expression on the woman's face but he could see the worry and concern that created the off putting look. He took a step back, aware that there were two other Head of Houses present and one student. She looked to be a Fourth or Fifth Year if he had to guess.
"Professors," he greeted.
"Ah. Good. Just the student we were looking for. We will be going to the Headmaster's office shortly. There is one other Shift we must go collect first," his Head of House stated.
He nodded and fell into step behind the professors next to the younger year.
It wasn't till they were nearly to the final house that she whispered, "Which house?"
He looked to her. "Ravenclaw," he lied, because it was believable. "You?"
She sagged, looking relieved. "Ravenclaw." A hint of despair returned to her expression. "Do you think their Welcoming will be a test of knowledge or something? I hope not. I don't even know why I was Shifted to Ravenclaw in the first place. I'm not studious like they are."
He looked at her, truly looked at her, and it wasn't hard to discern which house she had been from. Her Head of House kept glancing back at her, worry in the man's gaze. He reached over and touched her arm, offering softly, "You'll fit in just fine. Hufflepuffs are treated far kinder in Ravenclaw as Shifts than any other."
That had been what she had needed to hear even if he had been making it up. He barely paid any attention to Shifts and the different Welcomings. He had never believed he would ever experience that. He pressed the bundle of fabric against his side more. It seemed he had been wrong, though.
They stopped outside the final house. Minutes passed but the Professors didn't seem to be concerned. He was certain it was because they had been through this countless times and knew that sometimes it took a while. Word had made it even to his ears that sometimes students were very stubborn about Shifting or a party was thrown. The in-betweens never took long to gather.
By the ruckus that was starting to reach their ears, he wasn't sure of a party was being thrown or a riot. The Seventh Year that exited the house was proudly sporting his new colors so he was going to lean towards a party.
The group moved on and he let the Seventh Year and Fourth or Fifth Year talk. He found his words echoed by the ex-Ravenclaw Seventh Year, stating that the Welcoming for her Year - she was a Third Year, of all things - was very easy and there was no quiz, not that a few of the older wouldn't try and get her to do a few tests so that they could help her get up to par in her classes.
He wondered how accurate the Seventh Year was being or if he was being kind.
He was tempted to grab for his wand and send a stinging hex at the thought. She didn't need to be lied to by the house she was entering.
The Headmaster was waiting for them outside the Headmaster's Office. He was one of the oldest in the school but was far younger than many of the past Headmasters and -mistresses. There was still a sense of power and knowledge behind him, though, that had none doubting that he was well prepared to handle a school full of children and the staff that went along with it. He'd been there since the First Shift, after all.
"Congratulations on your new Houses," he offered the three of them warmly as the Professors stood behind them. "I expect that you will bring great things to each of your new House as well as your old. Do not forget that friends of any color are just as important as those of the same, alright?"
The Seventh and Third Year on either side of him nodded, their expressions determined. He found himself unable to respond. His Head of House placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The Headmaster's gaze fell on him at the peak of her gesture.
"If you would be willing, I would like to speak with you in my office before you move on," the Headmaster implored. He was surprised that it truly was an offer by the older man and found himself unable to deny the request regardless. He nodded and the soft smile grew a bit. The Headmaster looked to the Heads of Houses. "If you would be so kind as to escort the others to their new Houses, I would be very grateful. I am sure they will have lots of questions on the way."
He and the Headmaster stood in the hallway watching the others leave the way they had come till they had all left their sight. He turned back, meeting the Headmaster's steady gaze. There was no smile on that face but the expression was nothing but kind. "Come," the older man spoke, gesturing towards the Headmaster's Office. "We have much to discuss and another to discuss it with."
He frowned at that and found the answer to his unasked inquiry seated in one of the chairs before the Headmaster's desk. He recognized her as his Year but from Hufflepuff. She gave him a nod in greeting and he returned it before seating himself in the other chair. He did not miss the fact that she too was not in her school robes.
"Do you both have your ties?" the Headmaster inquired, leaning against the front of his desk rather than sit behind it like he had expected.
The girl pulled hers out of her pocket as he started to unwrapped his. Where his was still a solid white tie hidden by the robe in his lap, she held out a gray based tie patterned by every house color. It was artistically done, the colors not grouped by house but rather by what looked good, seeing as there was a bit of clashing between the bolder house colors that was negated by the design.
The Headmaster hummed, taking her tie with a careful hand as he wondered what her tie meant and what that meant for his. He didn't miss the fact that the Headmaster didn't ask for his.
"It would seem that you are stuck between Houses, Miss Alphaeus," the Headmaster offered genially, admiring the tie's pattern. "An easy matter to attend with, truly. Would you like to choose a new house or remain where you are?"
She gave him a flat look and the tie in his hand shifted its pattern. He wasn't sure if she had noticed but he would bet that the Headmaster had.
The Headmaster chuckled. "You do not have to answer right away, Miss Alphaeus. You are welcome to sit and ponder it as long as you wish."
"Why would I want to change houses?" Again, another shift in the pattern, equally subtle.
The Headmaster's expression turned somber. "Corinth." She didn't drop her glare. "I am aware of the hardships you are experiencing in your house. Moving houses may be what you need to finish out the rest of your years here at Hogwarts."
"But what if I don't want to?" she challenged and suddenly only two house colors were on her tie. "What if I want to leave and never come back? I don't want anything to do with this stupid school anymore!"
The colors in her tie settled and he wasn't sure if that house was going to be any better if she was having issues in Hufflepuff. The Headmaster simply offered a soft smile, handing the ex-Hufflepuff back her tie. "If you would be willing to finish out these last two years, I'm sure your new House will help you through what is left of your education."
She laughed, the sound tight and full of disbelief. "Slytherin. Really."
The Headmaster shrugged. "You would be surprised."
Neither moved, the Headmaster's calm gaze holding Corinth's incredulous one till at last Corinth reached out and took the tie from him. The Headmaster smiled at her. "I will send for your new Head of House. Please wait out in the hall for them."
Corinth nodded, standing. She left without a word.
The Headmaster's gaze turned to him and he reluctantly revealed his tie. The plain white tie was far too bright against the black robes.
"I was wondering when another student would have such a Shift," the Headmaster offered gently, taking the tie and leaning against his desk once more.
"Sir?" he questioned softly, not understanding.
The Headmaster smiled at him. "Do you have an idea of what this means, compared to Miss Alphaeus's tie?"
He opened his mouth to say no but a thought came to mind, one that he wasn't sure he believed. He let it roll passed his lips. "I no longer fit at Hogwarts."
The Headmaster laughed and he jumped, equal parts surprised and offended. "No, not quite." The Headmaster beamed at him. "It simply means that Hogwarts has nothing more to give you."
He gave the still beaming Headmaster a flat look. "I still have another year of schooling left, Professor."
"Indeed you do!" the Headmaster readily agreed. "But that doesn't have anything to do with the House system, now does it?"
He frowned. "I don't understand."
The Headmaster placed the tie on the edge of his desk, humming in thought. "Do you know why this school is set up with a house system, rather than just having all the same year in a single dorm?"
"I could guess," he responded. "But I'm sure you'll just tell me anyways."
The Headmaster laughed again. "Awe, the cheekiness of the youth. I can see why there is no color to your tie. Intelligent, brave, loyal, and cunning all in one." He opened his mouth to ask what the Headmaster meant by that, uncomfortable by the notion, but the Headmaster was already continuing on. "The Houses have become a way to allow students a safe space with like minded students they can turn to for aid. The house rivalries were always student driven, though I dare say that Quidditch and the House Points do not help with the staff partaking of the rivalries. The striking hatred between house has thankfully dwindled since the First Shifts as everyone has learned that the traits of each house are not as black and white as everyone seems to think they are."
The Headmaster gestured at him with his own tie. "This simply means you have reached the point where the house system no longer benefits you. You have reached a point only two other students have ever managed, a fact that is both impressive and disconcerting." He frowned as the Headmaster gained a wistful look. "I do not think the house system is a bad way of doing things, but it creates a separation among the students that I do not think is helping. I do not want to completely rid the school of the four Houses because that is what the Founders had created, but I do want to change it into something far better than a 'Them' and 'Us' mentality it currently creates. This-" the Headmaster hefted his tie up in emphasis, "allows me to gain a bit more insight on how the students not only benefit from the current system but surpass it. You are, however, the youngest so far to surpass the system. The others were Seventh Years. It would seem that the mark has gotten lower and I expect I will see a number more of white ties in my office in the coming months."
"So then what happens now?" he asked, only half understanding what this had to do with him and a white tie.
"I can have the sorting hat place you in a house once more or..." The Headmaster reached behind him, riffling through the mess of scrolls, parchment, paper, and files on his desk before turning back around with a few pages trapped in hand. "I have a few ways you could finish your schooling while starting into a career field. Apprenticeships, internships, other schools and whatnot."
He blinked at the Headmaster, only gaining a patient, warm gaze in return. He opened his mouth again. "And if I want to finish my schooling here? Do I have to get resorted?"
The Headmaster's expression turned mildly surprised. "You want to remain a White Tie?"
He looked at the tie, finding it hard to give up his last years at Hogwarts just because he wasn't part of a house anymore. "I don't want to leave."
"I can offer you a private room in the castle, if you would like, as the start of a new dormitory for White Ties, though we'll need a house name at some point if more do Shift till I can sort things out properly." He looked up, startled by the Headmaster's words even as the latter bits were mutterings of a thought process. The expression he found there was serious, edged with wariness and worry. "It will be isolating, seeing as you are the only White Tie for now. I am sure that will not last beyond the middle of your Seventh Year but there is no guarantee you will find another that Shifts into the White Tie as you have before you graduate."
He looked at the tie and the thought of that kind of isolation - the kind that came with being shunned by friends and fellow students - was daunting, but he couldn't get beyond the thought that he wanted to stay a White Tie and finish off his years as Hogwarts. He stood up, taking the tie and offering the Headmaster a smile. "Guaranteed or not, I don't mind being the first to wear their White Tie proud."
The Headmaster beamed at him.
Actually, the technical term was House Adjustment. With so many years gone since the war ended, and after so much had changed - good and bad - it was deemed important that students that grew out of their house were properly resorted the next year.
Rumor had it that it wasn't a choice made by the Education Board or the school staff. Students were just suddenly being reassigned houses and people were trying to hide that it was the castle's doing.
The first time it happened, there had been severe backlash. It had been so long ago, it's only in the words of those in their last year, those that were told by those long since gone from the castle grounds. The backlash didn't come from the parents till after the events in among the student body itself but by that point, it was too late.
Twenty students of varying years over the span of three months woke up to find that their school attire had changed color. The first three - a Sixth Year Ravenclaw, a Fourth Year Gryffindor, and a Seventh Year Slytherin - thought that their housemates were pulling a prank till their Head of House came for them. The Slytherin was now a Hufflepuff, the Ravenclaw now a Slytherin, and the Gryffindor now a Ravenclaw. Out of the three, surprisingly the Ravenclaw had the easiest time adapting. The Gryffindor supposedly had things to prove but it was nothing compared to the backlash the Slytherin got not from Hufflepuffs, but from their old house.
Despite the teachers doing their best to put things back, none of the students were able to access their old houses. Despite the teachers doing their best to run interference, Hufflepuffs proved to be not only loyal but brave and cunning during those short months of turmoil. It worked out better for all in the long run.
The next batch of student gained their new colors two weeks after the first and changed everything. Suddenly there was a camaraderie among the Turncoats - the label placed upon them regardless of their lack of choice in the matter - and it wasn't uncommon to see groups of mixed houses all over the castle. Classes were suddenly blended and at the start of the near year, the schedule system had been completely revamped.
Shift quickly replaced Turncoat.
After a few years, Shifts were common. They didn't happen as regularly after the initial onslaught of recoloring but they were common enough that each house had grown to creating certain rituals for reintroduction into a new house, some kinder than others and the more severe generally being apart of the highest most years. First Years never became Shifts. Only a small few - a very small few - of Second Years had ever become Shifts and the stories surrounding why they were Shifts were never pleasant.
But to find that one has shifted out of the house system? Now that was unheard of.
That is, till he was staring at the solid white tie in his hand.
"Just what I need," he muttered, clenching the tie. The robe still on his trunk had a blank white crest, void of any other color beyond the initial black of the robe itself. The sound in the room told him that the others hadn't noticed yet as he carefully wrapped the tie in the robe and made it a little package before anyone else could notice.
"Where you going?" one of the other boys called out. "We've still got a few minutes before we were planning on hitting breakfast."
The smile came easily to his face as he half lied. "I want to stop by the library before class."
"With your robes under one arm?" There was a spattering of chuckles and his smile grew.
"Hey, got to hang on to the last of the weekend somehow."
That got a riot of laughter out of them and he took the chance to truly step away and close the door behind him. His heart was pounding in his chest but the relief of not quite getting caught was calming his nerves.
He quickly left his house - ex-house, if what he had bundled under his arm was anything to go by - and prayed that if they did gather his belongings, they found all of them. He had items stashed for a reason and he wasn't about to leave them behind.
He nearly ran face first into his Head of House. There was a stern expression on the woman's face but he could see the worry and concern that created the off putting look. He took a step back, aware that there were two other Head of Houses present and one student. She looked to be a Fourth or Fifth Year if he had to guess.
"Professors," he greeted.
"Ah. Good. Just the student we were looking for. We will be going to the Headmaster's office shortly. There is one other Shift we must go collect first," his Head of House stated.
He nodded and fell into step behind the professors next to the younger year.
It wasn't till they were nearly to the final house that she whispered, "Which house?"
He looked to her. "Ravenclaw," he lied, because it was believable. "You?"
She sagged, looking relieved. "Ravenclaw." A hint of despair returned to her expression. "Do you think their Welcoming will be a test of knowledge or something? I hope not. I don't even know why I was Shifted to Ravenclaw in the first place. I'm not studious like they are."
He looked at her, truly looked at her, and it wasn't hard to discern which house she had been from. Her Head of House kept glancing back at her, worry in the man's gaze. He reached over and touched her arm, offering softly, "You'll fit in just fine. Hufflepuffs are treated far kinder in Ravenclaw as Shifts than any other."
That had been what she had needed to hear even if he had been making it up. He barely paid any attention to Shifts and the different Welcomings. He had never believed he would ever experience that. He pressed the bundle of fabric against his side more. It seemed he had been wrong, though.
They stopped outside the final house. Minutes passed but the Professors didn't seem to be concerned. He was certain it was because they had been through this countless times and knew that sometimes it took a while. Word had made it even to his ears that sometimes students were very stubborn about Shifting or a party was thrown. The in-betweens never took long to gather.
By the ruckus that was starting to reach their ears, he wasn't sure of a party was being thrown or a riot. The Seventh Year that exited the house was proudly sporting his new colors so he was going to lean towards a party.
The group moved on and he let the Seventh Year and Fourth or Fifth Year talk. He found his words echoed by the ex-Ravenclaw Seventh Year, stating that the Welcoming for her Year - she was a Third Year, of all things - was very easy and there was no quiz, not that a few of the older wouldn't try and get her to do a few tests so that they could help her get up to par in her classes.
He wondered how accurate the Seventh Year was being or if he was being kind.
He was tempted to grab for his wand and send a stinging hex at the thought. She didn't need to be lied to by the house she was entering.
The Headmaster was waiting for them outside the Headmaster's Office. He was one of the oldest in the school but was far younger than many of the past Headmasters and -mistresses. There was still a sense of power and knowledge behind him, though, that had none doubting that he was well prepared to handle a school full of children and the staff that went along with it. He'd been there since the First Shift, after all.
"Congratulations on your new Houses," he offered the three of them warmly as the Professors stood behind them. "I expect that you will bring great things to each of your new House as well as your old. Do not forget that friends of any color are just as important as those of the same, alright?"
The Seventh and Third Year on either side of him nodded, their expressions determined. He found himself unable to respond. His Head of House placed a heavy hand on his shoulder and gave it a squeeze. The Headmaster's gaze fell on him at the peak of her gesture.
"If you would be willing, I would like to speak with you in my office before you move on," the Headmaster implored. He was surprised that it truly was an offer by the older man and found himself unable to deny the request regardless. He nodded and the soft smile grew a bit. The Headmaster looked to the Heads of Houses. "If you would be so kind as to escort the others to their new Houses, I would be very grateful. I am sure they will have lots of questions on the way."
He and the Headmaster stood in the hallway watching the others leave the way they had come till they had all left their sight. He turned back, meeting the Headmaster's steady gaze. There was no smile on that face but the expression was nothing but kind. "Come," the older man spoke, gesturing towards the Headmaster's Office. "We have much to discuss and another to discuss it with."
He frowned at that and found the answer to his unasked inquiry seated in one of the chairs before the Headmaster's desk. He recognized her as his Year but from Hufflepuff. She gave him a nod in greeting and he returned it before seating himself in the other chair. He did not miss the fact that she too was not in her school robes.
"Do you both have your ties?" the Headmaster inquired, leaning against the front of his desk rather than sit behind it like he had expected.
The girl pulled hers out of her pocket as he started to unwrapped his. Where his was still a solid white tie hidden by the robe in his lap, she held out a gray based tie patterned by every house color. It was artistically done, the colors not grouped by house but rather by what looked good, seeing as there was a bit of clashing between the bolder house colors that was negated by the design.
The Headmaster hummed, taking her tie with a careful hand as he wondered what her tie meant and what that meant for his. He didn't miss the fact that the Headmaster didn't ask for his.
"It would seem that you are stuck between Houses, Miss Alphaeus," the Headmaster offered genially, admiring the tie's pattern. "An easy matter to attend with, truly. Would you like to choose a new house or remain where you are?"
She gave him a flat look and the tie in his hand shifted its pattern. He wasn't sure if she had noticed but he would bet that the Headmaster had.
The Headmaster chuckled. "You do not have to answer right away, Miss Alphaeus. You are welcome to sit and ponder it as long as you wish."
"Why would I want to change houses?" Again, another shift in the pattern, equally subtle.
The Headmaster's expression turned somber. "Corinth." She didn't drop her glare. "I am aware of the hardships you are experiencing in your house. Moving houses may be what you need to finish out the rest of your years here at Hogwarts."
"But what if I don't want to?" she challenged and suddenly only two house colors were on her tie. "What if I want to leave and never come back? I don't want anything to do with this stupid school anymore!"
The colors in her tie settled and he wasn't sure if that house was going to be any better if she was having issues in Hufflepuff. The Headmaster simply offered a soft smile, handing the ex-Hufflepuff back her tie. "If you would be willing to finish out these last two years, I'm sure your new House will help you through what is left of your education."
She laughed, the sound tight and full of disbelief. "Slytherin. Really."
The Headmaster shrugged. "You would be surprised."
Neither moved, the Headmaster's calm gaze holding Corinth's incredulous one till at last Corinth reached out and took the tie from him. The Headmaster smiled at her. "I will send for your new Head of House. Please wait out in the hall for them."
Corinth nodded, standing. She left without a word.
The Headmaster's gaze turned to him and he reluctantly revealed his tie. The plain white tie was far too bright against the black robes.
"I was wondering when another student would have such a Shift," the Headmaster offered gently, taking the tie and leaning against his desk once more.
"Sir?" he questioned softly, not understanding.
The Headmaster smiled at him. "Do you have an idea of what this means, compared to Miss Alphaeus's tie?"
He opened his mouth to say no but a thought came to mind, one that he wasn't sure he believed. He let it roll passed his lips. "I no longer fit at Hogwarts."
The Headmaster laughed and he jumped, equal parts surprised and offended. "No, not quite." The Headmaster beamed at him. "It simply means that Hogwarts has nothing more to give you."
He gave the still beaming Headmaster a flat look. "I still have another year of schooling left, Professor."
"Indeed you do!" the Headmaster readily agreed. "But that doesn't have anything to do with the House system, now does it?"
He frowned. "I don't understand."
The Headmaster placed the tie on the edge of his desk, humming in thought. "Do you know why this school is set up with a house system, rather than just having all the same year in a single dorm?"
"I could guess," he responded. "But I'm sure you'll just tell me anyways."
The Headmaster laughed again. "Awe, the cheekiness of the youth. I can see why there is no color to your tie. Intelligent, brave, loyal, and cunning all in one." He opened his mouth to ask what the Headmaster meant by that, uncomfortable by the notion, but the Headmaster was already continuing on. "The Houses have become a way to allow students a safe space with like minded students they can turn to for aid. The house rivalries were always student driven, though I dare say that Quidditch and the House Points do not help with the staff partaking of the rivalries. The striking hatred between house has thankfully dwindled since the First Shifts as everyone has learned that the traits of each house are not as black and white as everyone seems to think they are."
The Headmaster gestured at him with his own tie. "This simply means you have reached the point where the house system no longer benefits you. You have reached a point only two other students have ever managed, a fact that is both impressive and disconcerting." He frowned as the Headmaster gained a wistful look. "I do not think the house system is a bad way of doing things, but it creates a separation among the students that I do not think is helping. I do not want to completely rid the school of the four Houses because that is what the Founders had created, but I do want to change it into something far better than a 'Them' and 'Us' mentality it currently creates. This-" the Headmaster hefted his tie up in emphasis, "allows me to gain a bit more insight on how the students not only benefit from the current system but surpass it. You are, however, the youngest so far to surpass the system. The others were Seventh Years. It would seem that the mark has gotten lower and I expect I will see a number more of white ties in my office in the coming months."
"So then what happens now?" he asked, only half understanding what this had to do with him and a white tie.
"I can have the sorting hat place you in a house once more or..." The Headmaster reached behind him, riffling through the mess of scrolls, parchment, paper, and files on his desk before turning back around with a few pages trapped in hand. "I have a few ways you could finish your schooling while starting into a career field. Apprenticeships, internships, other schools and whatnot."
He blinked at the Headmaster, only gaining a patient, warm gaze in return. He opened his mouth again. "And if I want to finish my schooling here? Do I have to get resorted?"
The Headmaster's expression turned mildly surprised. "You want to remain a White Tie?"
He looked at the tie, finding it hard to give up his last years at Hogwarts just because he wasn't part of a house anymore. "I don't want to leave."
"I can offer you a private room in the castle, if you would like, as the start of a new dormitory for White Ties, though we'll need a house name at some point if more do Shift till I can sort things out properly." He looked up, startled by the Headmaster's words even as the latter bits were mutterings of a thought process. The expression he found there was serious, edged with wariness and worry. "It will be isolating, seeing as you are the only White Tie for now. I am sure that will not last beyond the middle of your Seventh Year but there is no guarantee you will find another that Shifts into the White Tie as you have before you graduate."
He looked at the tie and the thought of that kind of isolation - the kind that came with being shunned by friends and fellow students - was daunting, but he couldn't get beyond the thought that he wanted to stay a White Tie and finish off his years as Hogwarts. He stood up, taking the tie and offering the Headmaster a smile. "Guaranteed or not, I don't mind being the first to wear their White Tie proud."
The Headmaster beamed at him.
His breath escaped him far too easily and he despaired when it abandoned him. His entire body fought the air he tried to suck in to replace it. He choked on it, coughing so hard that any air he took in didn't last long.
"Get back up," a sharp voice demanded. He wondered if the sneer he heard was his imagination as he pushed himself up onto shaking arms. "All the way."
"She's so mean," someone whispered from the edge of the boundaries and he somehow found the breath to chuckle at that. If they thought this was mean, they clearly didn't know his father.
He staggered to his feet and nearly ate dirt when he pitched too far to the left. Her strong hand was tight around his arm in an instant. He went with her guidance, stabilizing on his own two feet under her watchful gaze. "Thanks," he muttered, turning to face her again.
She dipped her chin as she turned. Even if they had heard his word, no one would have seen her acknowledge it. "Again," she barked as she walked away. "And this time," she turned and faced him, "try to actually do harm."
He kicked off the ground before his lungs even felt full enough to act. She met him as she always did, countering his attacks without moving. Chunks of earth, gusts of wind, even a bolt of electricity neutralized every attack as she retaliated. Water sent his way would suddenly turn to ice and he would be forced to counter. He could even feel her force in the air around him and it took all that was left of his attention to focus on keeping himself in control airborne.
Her will won out in the end and she slammed him back into the ground, back first into the same crater he had created the first time.
The impact stole his breath but nothing felt broken. Bruises were a different matter.
He winced as he drew himself upright, coughing again. Most on the edge of the boundaries were white as sheets. Those that weren't had a range of expressions; the one that mattered to him most was disappointed and almost scowling. He looked away, not caring for the mix of emotions now churning within him as he shoved himself back to his feet.
His legs gave out and his knees hit the dirt before he pitched forward. The ground didn't come up to meet his face, though, and it took a moment before he realized a strong arm was pressed against his chest, keeping him upright.
No words came from the other but she approached, speaking to the one that had caught him. "I'm impressed. It took you a full month before you would actually have at me."
The one holding him huffed before growling out, "Lay off me. I was still wary of your condition."
She chuckled, her hands taking over. "I know. And I love you for it."
He found himself on his back, blinking against the clear sky beyond her head. Her hair had pulled free of its tie still just a touch too short to stay put. She offered him a soft smile when he focused on her. "How're you feeling?"
"Like I got my ass handed to me," he replied readily, a dopey grin making its way onto his face. "I'm glad Dad's got someone to go up against that can keep him on his toes."
"Of course," the aforementioned man spoke from his side, still looking like he was almost scowling. "Why would I choose to marry someone that could not keep up with me?"
As rhetorical as it probably was, he actually opened his mouth to answer the man but was cut off when she spoke up. "Last time I checked, you married me before I had my powers back."
The man sputtered. "Wha-That has nothing to do with this!"
Even from his awkward angle, he could see the smile creeping onto his dad's face. Despite the rough exterior the man maintained once more, there was no way those seven years of her influence on him would ever wear off. He tried so hard to fake it now and he just didn't understand why.
"If you say so," she returned, and he found himself wondering if she had a death wish. As changed as his dad was, he never tolerated that kind of sass well.
The grin that spread across the man's face spoke differently and he was once again left reeling from the fact that his dad was nothing like he remembered as the man's arms wrapped around her. "Of course I say so. I am a Prince, after all."
She went with his pull easily, leaning into the smaller man as if the mock fight had worn her out more than she was letting on. "Is it sad I'm mildly disappointed you're not a King?"
The man huffed, his face against her neck. He could see his dad's body shift and flex, supporting her fully even with the display of flirting. He was starting to get the impression they were doing that for a reason. "Not a King yet. I'm still working out the details but I keep getting distracted by this beautiful woman I know."
"Get a room," he groaned, loud and whiny.
His dad kicked dirt at him but it had been the right call. For one, it had been dirt and not an actual kick, let alone one his dad's attacks, and for another, the way she gave in during the moment those on the edge of boundary were distracted spoke of a pride similar to his dad's, if that was what kept her from just simply sagging against the man and never leaving.
"Go to your own room, brat," his dad barked without missing a beat. "You no longer have to be a waste of space in my presence."
His mom called his dad out from the boundary line, chastising the man for treating him as such. He didn't really mind as he stood. She looked better, standing on her own as they all got to their feet. He didn't miss how his dad's arm was still tight around her waist.
"Get back up," a sharp voice demanded. He wondered if the sneer he heard was his imagination as he pushed himself up onto shaking arms. "All the way."
"She's so mean," someone whispered from the edge of the boundaries and he somehow found the breath to chuckle at that. If they thought this was mean, they clearly didn't know his father.
He staggered to his feet and nearly ate dirt when he pitched too far to the left. Her strong hand was tight around his arm in an instant. He went with her guidance, stabilizing on his own two feet under her watchful gaze. "Thanks," he muttered, turning to face her again.
She dipped her chin as she turned. Even if they had heard his word, no one would have seen her acknowledge it. "Again," she barked as she walked away. "And this time," she turned and faced him, "try to actually do harm."
He kicked off the ground before his lungs even felt full enough to act. She met him as she always did, countering his attacks without moving. Chunks of earth, gusts of wind, even a bolt of electricity neutralized every attack as she retaliated. Water sent his way would suddenly turn to ice and he would be forced to counter. He could even feel her force in the air around him and it took all that was left of his attention to focus on keeping himself in control airborne.
Her will won out in the end and she slammed him back into the ground, back first into the same crater he had created the first time.
The impact stole his breath but nothing felt broken. Bruises were a different matter.
He winced as he drew himself upright, coughing again. Most on the edge of the boundaries were white as sheets. Those that weren't had a range of expressions; the one that mattered to him most was disappointed and almost scowling. He looked away, not caring for the mix of emotions now churning within him as he shoved himself back to his feet.
His legs gave out and his knees hit the dirt before he pitched forward. The ground didn't come up to meet his face, though, and it took a moment before he realized a strong arm was pressed against his chest, keeping him upright.
No words came from the other but she approached, speaking to the one that had caught him. "I'm impressed. It took you a full month before you would actually have at me."
The one holding him huffed before growling out, "Lay off me. I was still wary of your condition."
She chuckled, her hands taking over. "I know. And I love you for it."
He found himself on his back, blinking against the clear sky beyond her head. Her hair had pulled free of its tie still just a touch too short to stay put. She offered him a soft smile when he focused on her. "How're you feeling?"
"Like I got my ass handed to me," he replied readily, a dopey grin making its way onto his face. "I'm glad Dad's got someone to go up against that can keep him on his toes."
"Of course," the aforementioned man spoke from his side, still looking like he was almost scowling. "Why would I choose to marry someone that could not keep up with me?"
As rhetorical as it probably was, he actually opened his mouth to answer the man but was cut off when she spoke up. "Last time I checked, you married me before I had my powers back."
The man sputtered. "Wha-That has nothing to do with this!"
Even from his awkward angle, he could see the smile creeping onto his dad's face. Despite the rough exterior the man maintained once more, there was no way those seven years of her influence on him would ever wear off. He tried so hard to fake it now and he just didn't understand why.
"If you say so," she returned, and he found himself wondering if she had a death wish. As changed as his dad was, he never tolerated that kind of sass well.
The grin that spread across the man's face spoke differently and he was once again left reeling from the fact that his dad was nothing like he remembered as the man's arms wrapped around her. "Of course I say so. I am a Prince, after all."
She went with his pull easily, leaning into the smaller man as if the mock fight had worn her out more than she was letting on. "Is it sad I'm mildly disappointed you're not a King?"
The man huffed, his face against her neck. He could see his dad's body shift and flex, supporting her fully even with the display of flirting. He was starting to get the impression they were doing that for a reason. "Not a King yet. I'm still working out the details but I keep getting distracted by this beautiful woman I know."
"Get a room," he groaned, loud and whiny.
His dad kicked dirt at him but it had been the right call. For one, it had been dirt and not an actual kick, let alone one his dad's attacks, and for another, the way she gave in during the moment those on the edge of boundary were distracted spoke of a pride similar to his dad's, if that was what kept her from just simply sagging against the man and never leaving.
"Go to your own room, brat," his dad barked without missing a beat. "You no longer have to be a waste of space in my presence."
His mom called his dad out from the boundary line, chastising the man for treating him as such. He didn't really mind as he stood. She looked better, standing on her own as they all got to their feet. He didn't miss how his dad's arm was still tight around her waist.