Dark Kingdom.

McGonagall went immediately to her rooms and prepared for bed, completely exhausted. What an evening it had been! She couldn't remember a Welcoming Feast this chaotic since James Potter and Sirius Black put blast-ended skrewts in the Slytherin's breadbaskets. She could just imagine James laughing hysterically when his son enticed a very large and venomous Nagini into the Great Hall and then left said Great Hall to lead the entirety of the teaching staff on a mad search through the castle.

She entertained the possibility of writing to Sirius and Remus about the night's events. She imagined they would be ecstatic to know James' legacy was turning out to be just as much of a troublemaker as the original. She dismissed the idea quickly. Who knew what those two would do if they learned their godson was in Britain? The one thing Harry James Potter did not need was his godparents violating probation to visit him right under Voldemort's nose.

Voldemort.

She shuddered. She didn't think she would ever forget the sight of him casting that awful curse on Lily's child. There had been instances before, much less often nowadays, where she had been called into his or the headmistress' office to collect a similarly punished child, but that was always after the fact. For a moment, she thought her heart had stopped when the boy had screamed.

To make matters worse Harry turned out to be a Parselmouth. A rare and coveted talent... for Slytherins. Not so much in Gryffindor. She thought it very prudent of him to want to keep it a secret, and she would help him keep it as best she could. However, this was Hogwarts. Secrets, especially the magical kind, rarely remained secrets for long. Most of the teaching staff knew already, and all it would take was a bit of overheard gossip for everyone of the student body to know as well. Worst of all, Voldemort knew. And now the man had reason to take interest in the boy. No doubt he would find someway to take advantage of Harry's talent if given the chance. The only thing McGonagall could do was keep her young charge as sheltered from his attentions as possible. Given recent events, she wondered if she was up for the job.

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Severus returned to his quarters just after midnight. He left Bellatrix slightly tipsy and alone with their Lord. He had no doubt by the time the dictator left, he would be questioning his previous judgement in allowing the woman to become headmistress. Perhaps the dark wizard was already doing so.

He grinned wickedly at the thought of the arrogant woman being brought to heel. She might have been a fine general during the war, but it took more than clever sadism and blind loyalty to run a school. What children lacked in ambition and viciousness, they more than made up for in free time and creativity. The Weasley twins were a perfect example. Leave them along in a room for an hour with only their wands, and the resulting mayhem would likely be recorded in legend. Hell, leave them alone in a room with only a pack of gum and the result would be the same.

Add to that the strange political nature of the separate Houses, bloodlines, the point system, and Quidditch matches and you have a recipe for adolescent intrigue. The castle's many secrets and curiosities only magnified the possibilities and dangers. It took constant vigilance, a keen intelligence, and a firm hand to maintain order at Hogwarts. Lestrange might have been suited to take on the position as she grew older, after several years of teaching and learning what to expect from students. However, she had taken the position and the lofty title immediately after the war as a reward, not as a job. She didn't seem to understand that running Hogwarts required a great deal of work on her part.

McGonagall would have been much better suited. He'd never say it to anyone, especially not the woman herself, but she was really the only logical choice. She had the dignity, discipline, and experience. Most of all she lovedthe school. She had loved it so much that even when her adored mentor and former headmaster Albus Dumbledore had fled, she remained behind.

And miraculously, she had been spared and her loyalty to the school, if not Voldemort himself, was rewarded with her continued position as Head of Gryffindor.

But she would never be headmistress. He doubted that any Gryffindor would as long as Voldemort ruled. Which left himself as the next best candidate. And he didn't think he would do that bad of a job either. He might not have Minerva's experience, but he shared her love for the school. To a certain extent, that extended to the students as well. Empty-headed imbeciles though they were.

Potter might just present the opportunities he needed to topple Bellatrix from her pedestal and place himself in the forefront of Voldemort's positive regard. He already had a leg up on her with their Master's newest orders to gather information on Potter. No one knew more about Harry Potter in the wizarding world than himself. He was there when the boy was taken from his relatives' home, he had all his muggle records, he has his magical aptitude results, and was there when he received his wand. Add to that his goddaughter was apparently his best friend, and there was no way Bellatrix could gather more intel than him.

On the off chance that Potter should gather Voldemort's favor ( a very slim possibility, but his Master was often as unpredictable as the Hogwart's staircases), then a bit of placating on his part would put him in Potter's. After all, the only real point of contention between them was that silly sketchbook.

Returning it should settle things between them rather nicely.

Severus smirked, pulling said sketchbook from the bookshelf as he made his way to his private laboratory. He opened it at random and found himself looking at James leaning over a potter's wheel. Potter the potter. How deliciously absurd. He flipped it to another page, this time featuring an infant Harry sleeping in his mother's arms as she dozed in her rocking chair. It was filled with drawings, mostly incomplete sketches, but they outlined his life as easily a diary would have. Harry loved his parents. Harry liked football (not American football, but football), animals, and art. There weren't many pictures of other people, and no one aside from the Potters ever appeared more than once, suggesting he didn't have friends. Either the boy was very shy or his parents were over protective... which means he might be shy as a result. A weakness he could so easily exploit to gain his confidence or tear him down. There were a lot of possibilities here. He was likely getting ahead of himself. He needed some trusted advice on how to proceed. Summoning a quill and parchment, he sat down at his work station and started to compose a letter.

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"You appear to have all your parts," said Clyde, surveying Harry critically. "But I don't think I would be able to tell if you were missing your spleen."

"What?" "Oh, Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked.

"He looks pretty good to me," said Fred. "In fact, he looks bloody brilliant."

"We do have to applaud you, old chap. Fred and I haven't had this much fun since a Hufflepuff exploded the potion's classroom."

"For goodness' sake, you both are incorrigible!" she sniffed.

Harry stared at the four other Gryffindors, and smiled tiredly. "I'm fine. I kept well out of Nagini's reach. What happened after I left? Was anyone hurt?"

They all settled into some comfortable armchairs in front of the fireplace and explained all that had happened. There had been some accidents, nothing more serious than a bump on the head, when everyone panicked and tried to leave the hall at once. After Harry led the snake away though, Voldemort and the teachers were quick to take the situation in hand. Injured students were escorted to the hospital wing for the night, and prefects escorted their own houses to their common rooms. Most of the House had waited up for a while to see if Harry turned up, but eventually went to bed.

Harry told them all about his first encounter with Nagini, about the second chase through the halls and into the secret corridors, his run in with Sir Nicholas, and visit to the headmistress' office. He didn't tell them about being a parselmouth or about Voldemort's pardon, but said after he explained things he had been let off with a scolding. Gryffindor, amazingly, hadn't lost a single point through the entire fiasco.

Everyone was quite entertained, except for Hermione who kept exclaiming 'you could have been killed!'. They all suffered a very long lecture on 'foolish risk-taking' until even she was yawning. Finally, they all made their way to their dormitories for sleep.

It was dark as Clyde and Harry entered their bedroom, and all the other boys were fast asleep. Clyde collapsed in the nearest empty bed, and Harry did likewise in the single one remaining. What a way to start an education, he thought to himself. Despite all that had happened that night, he couldn't help but smile a bit. Aside from the embarrassing himself in the Great Hall and the consequent cursing immediately after, it had been rather magnificent day. His best friend and he turned out to be in the same house, made friends with the Weasley twins, met his first ghost, discovered a secret passageway (if he could only find it again!), outsmarted a giant cobra, and turned out to be a parselmouth! Although whether being a parselmouth was a good thing or not was still up for debate. One day he might tell Hermione, and he was sure she could ramble off a list of good and bad things associated with that gift.

In the meantime, he just wanted to sleep.

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Harry woke up late the next morning to a burning sensation on his hip. He bolted out of bed and pulled out his charmed pocket watch. He was already late for breakfast. All the other beds were empty, including Clyde's and he wondered why no one had bothered to wake him. Tiredly, he set about changing out of his sleep rumpled clothes, cleaned himself up, gathered his supplies for the day, and marched down to the Great Hall.

He yawned the entire way, feeling as if he hadn't slept at all the night before. His dreams had been restless, filled with secret corridors and snakes.