"𝘐𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘪𝘵𝘴 𝘧𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘰𝘯 𝘶𝘴."
~𝘈𝘳𝘵𝘩𝘶𝘳 𝘚𝘤𝘩𝘰𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘩𝘢𝘶𝘦𝘳

𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘥𝘦𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘭𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘦 𝘏.
-

"Don't forget to be careful! You know that a psychopath is wandering around."

Hilary nodded and embraced his tearful mother before waving as best as he could with two full hands, bidding his final goodbye with a loving farewell.

There was currently an unknown psychopath that had risen from the shadows. From what the ministry knew, they were new; wiping out several students and aurorers in a matter of months. Without getting caught, or seen for that matter.

This murderer's patterns were completely irregular and uncertain, ranging from simple snotty students to well-trained professionals that had done nothing wrong. Because they didn't know who this person was, where they would strike next couldn't even be predicted.

The first death happened during a sudden blizzard, or so it seemed. When it had ceased a young female - bless her - was met with the sight of heavily blood-splattered snow, the bright crimson red bleeding into the pure blinding white. Adults were called and the body of the victim was soon found, buried beneath layers upon layers of snow, with nearly all traces of being man murdered gone.

The only clue was the two deep slits by their throat, and abdominal aorta, located towards the back and slightly left of their spine. Two very fatal injuries that would have resulted in a quick death.

Thirty-two families were left to mourn for their deceased relatives because of this psychopath.

He pulled herself from his thoughts and glared warily at the young student that had shoved him back while running out, stepping into the already bustling train; despite it being twenty minutes early.

With the assistance of another kind-hearted witch, he easily found platform 9 and ¾ without much hassle; although Hilary internally wished that he had arrived a little earlier.

It was practically impossible to find a vacant spot in any of the compartments, and any free spots were 'reserved' by bulging bags for late friends.

He inwardly celebrated when he found one at the far end of the long vehicle, it was already occupied with two others, but it would be better than having to sit on the floor.

After two attempts (and fails) of trying to open the stubborn door with his foot, he mentally cursed and opted to use a different tactic. The door slid open rather noisily as Hilary used wandless magic to push it aside, closing it using the same method. He flashed a close-mouthed grin before placing his trunk on the clear overhead rack, pressing his ash-grey guitar case against the painted wall.

"Hey, I hope that it's alright if I join you two; because I'm not going out any time soon."

The platinum blond gazed at him curiously, looked at the other unresponsive reading teen, and shifted his focus back to him.

"I assume that it's alright, was that wandless magic just then?" He questioned.

The raven's piercing eyes flickered up for a moment, inspecting, before returning his gaze to the book.

"Yes, yes it was."

"That's very advanced stuff."

Hilary shrugged.

"If you practice enough you'll get it, it's not as difficult as it seems." He responded in a rather belittling manner.

"Ahh, I see. Well, I'm Abraxas Malfoy. Fifth-year." The blond introduced himself with a wide charming smile.

"Hillary Raine, also Fifth-year; a pleasure to meet you." Abraxas's eyebrows hitched, his expression presenting that he was genuinely surprised.

"Fifth year? I just assumed you were in your sixth or seventh because of the wandless magic you just performed, I haven't seen you around either."

Hilary sat on the emerald cushioned seat opposite Abraxas, comfortably leaning back slightly into the soft seat.

"So you're the transfer." The raven-haired boy (who was approximately a person away from him) said in a seamless deep tone, his cold dark eyes peeled away from his book.

"I am, how did you know?"
So he does speak.

"I was...informed of your arrival, as was every other prefect." During the short gap between his words, Hilary quickly inspected the boy properly for the first time, registering his appearance.

He was striking with an emotionless face and a jaw that could cut; dark tamed curls fell handsomely over his unblemished forehead, his smart uniform crisp and clean. No doubt a role model of some sort.

In short. He was drop-dead gorgeous.

Though, that didn't mean that Hilary liked him. No matter how gay he was. Those cold eyes sent foreboding chills down his spine, and not in a good way; giving him a sticky feeling that he just couldn't shake.

Hilary couldn't help but think that he was some sociopath, well hidden beneath a skilfully formed facade.

"I see, if you don't mind me asking; what's your name?"

"...Riddle. Prefect and fifth year." He took notice of his cagey answers, but didn't bother to mention or think twice of the small factor; it's not like it was going to be unduly important.

"Pleasure to meet you, Riddle."

"Likewise."

The pair both knew that their words weren't true.

-

Hilary noticed that Abraxas and Riddle seemed to be quite the presence at Hogwarts.

Well, mainly the latter. Drones of girls (and boys) tailed him like mindless sheep, all the way up to the little boats before mingling back with the remaining majority of the crowd.

Of course, he didn't pay too much mind. It wasn't a situation he wanted to be tied in, maybe the boy owed them or something.

He was currently with a professor named Albus Dumbledore, who was a tall aged man with a long wispy beard that could easily be French braided.

Hilary watched the last handful of nervous students pass through the door to be sorted from the corner of his eye as he listened to the old prune.

"Headmaster Dippet will introduce you first before you're called up to be sorted into your house group since you're a fifth-year transfer." He nodded, fiddling with the wand in his pocket.

Elder wood and phoenix feather, 11.8 inches. A thin and trustworthy wand that Hilary was more than grateful for.

"And remember, don't tell anyone about your ability of manipulation. Not until you've learned to fully harness your skill, and have full control over it."

"Yes Professor." The crow's feet on Dumbledore's face creased as he smiled, wishing him the best of luck before vanishing through a separate door.

"What would I possibly need luck for?" He asked himself, focusing his attention on the large ragged sorting hat, which was now on the head of a terrified child that had seen a psychotic blood-thirsty clown for the first time.

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The cheers and claps of the bee-themed table sounded as though it multiplied in sound as they reverberated off the pewter walls, soon dying down into silence, save that one...special student.

"I would now like to welcome a transfer who will be joining us for his fifth year and onwards, please welcome Hilary Raine with open arms." The aged headmaster announced (who looked like an older, shorter version of Dumbledore that had a snowy beard three quarters the size.)

Upon hearing his name Hilary strode forwards to the stool, the tattered sorting hat in the hand of a middle-aged wizard who was earlier introduced as Silvanus Kettleburn (his subject being care of magical creatures).

The talking garment was placed on his head the moment he seated herself on the worn chair, the unpleasant foreign prodding sensation in his brain making his perfectly formed eyebrows furrow. Though no one would be able to notice as it was covered by the old thing.

"My my, what a pleasant surprise. Another Raine, you look very much like your mother, much less like your father though."

"Don't mention him," Hilary whispered harshly, feeling his blood boil at the mention of the bastard.

"A touchy subject I see, well, with that fiery temper of yours you would do well in Gryffindor..." The gravelly voice of the sorting hat echoed through his mind.

"But you're ambitious, very, with a strong thirst to prove that you can control your ability. With this you better be SLYTHERIN!" The garment shouted the last word for all to hear.

An explosion seemed to occur at the Slytherin table, its occupants easily overpowering the less enthusiastic houses, some of them even mumbling about how 'unfortunate' the outcome was.

Hilary was content. So he proudly walked towards the emerald and silver themed table with a close-mouthed grin, his perfectly done tie and inner robe melting into a rich sacramento green; soon spotting three females frantically beckoning him with even wider smiles.

"So you're the new transfer!"

"Sierra wouldn't stop talking about how you would come here, I can't believe that you're in Slytherin!"

"Shut up! Did not, anyways. I'm Sierra Vancouver." A girl with dark-toned skin introduced herself, extending her hand, Hilary shaking it rather daintily - which was new to himself as he had never shaken anyone's hand with such elegance.

"I'm Willow Wright, and this is Isadora Hastings!" The noticeably beautiful girl with long dark curls said energetically as she shuffled over, making a little more room for Hilary.

"What, so I can't introduce myself anymore?" Isadora - an adorable brunette with a baby face - shoved Willow playfully.

"Well, it's nice meeting you three, as you already know my name is Hilary Raine. I hope that we get along well." He introduced himself as he took place between Willow and Sierra, noting the girls' silence after a few moments of it.

"You're so formal! Isadora was first like that as well, she still is." Sierra broke the silence.

"Except around us two." Willow quickly added, now raising her voice as a few Ravenclaws began laughing like a group of hyenas on steroids.

"We'll make you breakthrough that formal facade of yours."

Hilary smiled a little.

"I can assure you there is no need for tha-" His gaze shifted slightly and caught a familiar cold one, which somehow removed his capability to speak properly. His ears blocking out all extra sounds that were spilling from the mouths of hungry students.

The Riddle boy from earlier was seated with a group of other obnoxious looking boys, about ten students away; head turned in his direction. He was not the eldest of the group - it showed on his face - but his perfect posture and presence presented that he was inevitably the leader.

The voice of Sierra pulled him from the temporary trance, returning his attention to the group; the deafening sounds of the hall returning to normal volume.

"Hey, you good?"

"...yeah, yeah I guess so. There's no need to worry." Isadora nodded, slightly suspicious.

"If you say so, anyway; I'm not complaining, but I wasn't really expecting to see a boy when we were told to welcome the 'mysterious new transfer'! Headmaster Dumbledore even said that you may be in our dorm. You're down-right adorable, I just want to squish your cheeks."

Hilary's ears reddened slightly, a small shy grin overtaking his features.

"Oh um, thank you?" He answered sceptically.

"No worries. Change of topic, how's your plan for getting together with Tom going?" Sierra sighed dreamily, putting her chin on her hand as she gazed off into the distance.

"We've got patrol tomorrow night, together, so I'm planning on making my move then."

"Who's Tom?" Hilary questioned, the three gasping over dramatically.

"Who's Tom?! Well, you're new, so I guess you wouldn't know yet...he's in our year."

"He's everyone's dream partner, he's super smart and charming, and he's got the most enchanting brown eyes ever."

"He's also a prefect." The girls took turns in talking about him, a memory playing in Hilary's mind like a video.

"I see, if you don't mind me asking; what's your name?"

"...Riddle. Prefect and fifth year."

"You mean Riddle? I think I already met him on the train." He mentioned as he poured himself some pumpkin juice.

"You've already met him?"

Someone from the Hufflepuff table suddenly fell off their chair, landing painfully on their back; laughing it off with his other concerned friends.

He was black-haired, with wide clear blue eyes; looking scarily identical to his deceased brother. The thought of him made the traumatised teen unknowingly grip the filled glass in hand.

Soon enough the entire thing shattered, cool pumpkin juice spraying all over his newly bought robes. Hilary mentally cursed and was quick to clean the mess with the help of magic, nearly all attention now on him.

"What was that?" Willow asked, pouring him some new pumpkin juice; Hilary drying his robes with a simple charm, the burning gaze of the curious students diminishing.

"I was gripping it too tight." The lie flowed easily, convincing his new friends enough to not question it. Though suspicion still passed amongst the three, gripping a thick glass cup too tight? Unlikely.

"Okay, well anyway. We'll get back to the Riddle subject later, for now, tuck in; eat to your heart's content!" Hilary furrowed his eyebrows, turning to look at the empty silver platters.

Once, empty platters. They were now occupied by various foods with aromas that made his stomach gurgle quietly, many of the students already filing their plates to the brim.

"This school is so different to Durmstrang..." He muttered, reaching out to grab the bowl of mashed potatoes.

"DURMSTRANG?" Isadora suddenly exclaimed, quickly slapping her hand over her mouth as a majority of the Slytherin table turned their heads to the four; Hilary inwardly cursing as he nearly dropped the bowl from the sudden exclamation.

"Durmstrang? You transferred from Durmstrang?" She half asked, surprised.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not at all, it's just...they're focused on the dark arts aren't they, and I've heard stories as well. Really messed up ones." Willow rubbed her arms, small goosebumps plaguing her skin just from thinking about the tales that had scarred her.

"Is that why you moved?" Sierra asked, cutting the steak on her plate with the sharp serrated steak knife.

"Yeah, that's why I moved." Hilary lied once again, piercing a pair of broccoli with his fork.

If only they knew.