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It finally came! His Hogwarts letter finally came, and there it was in his fathers hand along with Robb’s. Jon and his brother would be going to Hogwarts, they’d waited years and years for this moment.

Sansa squealed for the two of them when she saw Lord Stark display the wax seal to everyone as he entered the family room. Arya at seven years old and already energetic, was up and raving, ready to climb up their father’s back to snatch a letter for herself.

Their father, Lord Stark, handed Robb his letter and smiled at his bastard son before cracking the seal on Jon’s. Pulling out parchment from the envelope, the envelope immediately went into the lord’s magically expanded pocket. Their father read Jon's letter out loud to the group. “We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September first. We await your owl by no later than the thirty-first of July. Stannis Baratheon, Deputy Headmaster.” When done he passed Jon the second page with the list.

By his side Arya bounced and beamed up at Jon but he just wanted to hold his own letter and read it a thousand times. Jon wanted to trace his fingers over the broken Hogwarts sigil like Robb was doing but Jon was a bastard so it was his letter which was to entertain his younger siblings.

Arya peered at his page of needed school supplies. “Will we get to go to Diagon Alley with them?”

The desire to visit the magical community was a want shared by all the children. Unlike his trueborn siblings, Jon had only been there a few times. He would have gotten to go more if Lady Catelyn didn’t try to keep him at Winterfell as if he was sick. Jon was his father’s only shame though and so she would buy his clothes when she purchased Robbs so her husband had no excuse to bring Jon into public. Not that his father liked to take him either, the man did not like Jon leaving the castle grounds. He only got to go last year because the whole family went to purchase Theon’s equipment.

While her sister loved all the exotic and strange things one might find in the magical world,  Sansa loved just being in the South. She often accompanied Lady Catelyn when the woman needed to shop and always returned, speaking endlessly of exploring the muggle city.

At four Rickon would practically be experiencing Diagon Alley for the first time. Despite the boy's short life, Rickon had probably visited it more than seven times more often than Jon.

Lady Catelyn refused to look in his direction when she answered her daughter. “Of course. You must be on your best behavior, I will not tolerate any more accidents.” The previous year, she’d lost track of Arya and the girl had activated two dozen snitches in a quidditch shop. She had grounded Arya for two weeks, and Jon for the sin of losing his sister and encouraging her love of quidditch had suffered a single week of no flying.

This time, Jon vowed nothing bad would happen and if something did Lady Stark couldn’t blame him as he would be focused on getting his supplies with Robb. Even if she punished him, soon enough he would be out of her grasp and in Gryffindor with Robb. He wouldn’t have to see her until winter break.

To Jon it felt like they visited the Stark vaults in Gringotts just to show off the massive inheritance that all his siblings would receive a part of. He knew their father’s coin purse was charmed to hold vastly more than they’d spend over the day. Jon’s trust vault in comparison to Robb’s was just another reminder of the vast difference between them.

When they returned to the surface and left the underground bank they found Rickon, Sansa and Lady Stark waiting for them. Unlike Arya and the boys, they did not enjoy the minecart ride or in Rickon’s case he was too young to experience it according to his mother.

Getting supplies was mostly mindless. Because her husband and children were with them Lady Catelyn could make no comment on Jon getting supplies of the same quality as Robb which was something he took advantage of, his father was paying after all.

They stopped outside a broomstick store to stare at a beautiful new broom, but first years were not allowed their own broomsticks at Hogwarts. That fact didn’t stop them from flying at home, they’d all learn to fly when they were younger on models for kids. Jon was as talented in the air as anybody at Winterfell. His father loved to watch them zoom by, the man always seemed to have a fond smile as he gazed at Jon flying which only increased Jon's passion for the sport. Sadly since he and Robb had received brooms for their birthdays the previous year, they would not get another until they made the Gryffindor team which Jon was sure would be next year.

In Flourish and Blotts while he, Theon and Robb got their school books a short man approached the rest of the group and seemed familiar with the two adults. They watched the man stroke Sansa’s hair and cheek, making her shy away. Jon felt uncomfortable just seeing it, and so he had to ask Robb: “Do you know him?”

Robb shook his head, “No, I’ve never seen him at home or at Dad’s work. I don’t think I like him though. Come on, let's find out. Maybe we can scare him off.” His brother led them over causing the creepy man to turn his face toward them.

“He seems familiar,” was all Greyjoy could say before they were close enough to be heard.

The stranger had a goatee and a false smile. “Ah! The Tully look, you must be Cat’s eldest, and Mr.Greyjoy.” Then the man’s green-grey eyes looked at Jon and twinkled. “And this must be Snow .” The creep put extra emphasis on the last name gifted to Jon at birth.

Jon couldn’t be a Stark without legitimization and the same could be said if his mother was of noble birth, and so Jon received a bastard’s name, a useless name with no connection to anything but the North. Needless to say Jon already hated the man for bringing up the topic and he didn’t even know the creep’s name yet. It didn't help that he was beginning to get a headache. “Aye.”

“Robb, this is Petyr Baelish, he was my father’s ward when he was your age. Now he is the muggle studies teacher at Hogwarts.” Lady Catelyn's voice was neither warm nor cold, and Jon had become good at reading her moods.

This Professor Baelish stroked his chin. “Not the most respectable position, I admit, but as I only teach an unpopular elective I also have a position in the Ministry in the treasury department. Though if you need any help you are welcome to visit my classroom.” Jon was confident the offer was only extended to Robb, not that Jon wanted to spend any more time with the creepy man. "I'm sure you two will be great Gryffindors if you are not Hufflepuffs like your father." Baelish addressed both Jon and Robb this time, and while his words sounded like a compliment, it felt like an insult. “Well I must be going, class plans to make and my subject changes almost yearly.” Without giving anyone a chance to speak he swept out of the store much to everyone’s gratitude.

Once back among the bookshelves, Robb shouldered Jon. “I really don’t like him. He looks at Mother weirdly.” So his brother had noticed that as well.

“I don’t like him either.” Jon thought Lord Stark too seemed to disliked Baelish.

After acquiring their school books, Rickon and Arya urged their father to let Jon and Robb pick out their pets at the Magical Menagerie but were rejected. Pets were not off the table however as they were dragged to The Arryns' Aerial Emporium. The shop was owned by the Headmaster of Hogwarts’ family and thus Lady Catelyn’s sister as well, so it was no surprise why they were taken there in favor of the other store.

All around the store were a variety of birds, mostly owls as they were the traditional post of Magical Westeros. Jon didn’t find any of them tremendously exciting, though he thought it would be cool to have his mail delivered by eagle.

A thunderous flutter by his ear made him jump as dark claws wrapped around his shoulder. “Corn, corn?” The croak came from a large scruffy raven.

“You scream like a girl, Snow!” Theon was bent over with his hands on his knees laughing his butt off.

“Snow, Snow, Snow.” The blasted bird poked Jon’s head with its beak. Jon tried to shoo it away but it didn't budge.

It was Arya who came to his defense and kicked Greyjoy in the leg. “Sansa was the one who screeched.”

Nursing his poor shin, the Ironborn cursed. “Fine bastard, you are protected once again by the little devil.”

“You going to take that bird home?” The clerk interrupted, looking absolutely gleeful at the prospect.

The raven bounced and spoke again. “Home.”

Before Jon could say he very much didn’t want the bird, Lady Stark doomed him. “Yes, he will. I can see they are quite taken with each other.” More like she knew ravens were cheaper than owls and that they and their owners were typically viewed as lesser. The birds are scavengers and bottom feeders like their cousins, associated with death and evil, so of course she'd wish to lump him in with a raven. He recalled Old Nan’s sayings; ‘Crows are all liars’ and ‘Dark wings, dark words.’ It went without saying that Lady Catelyn would find his letters wholly unwelcome.

“Wonderful!” The worker clapped their hands together and returned to their station. Robb ended up picking out a majestic owl with stormy grey feathers that he found to his liking. By the time Robb made his choice, Jon had failed to trick the raven into saying it didn’t like him, so the clerk finalized the sale and collected the payment from their father.

Lady Stark was just as pleased as the shop worker with their purchases. “Now, wands!”

"Wand! Wand!" He bet Lady Catelyn was going to regret buying the black bird soon enough.

“Mott’s.” Rarely ever did their lord father smile even a tad, but he did so at the mention of the wand seller. Was he remembering buying his first wand?

The doors to Mott’s were ebony and weirwood carved into a scene with various magical beasts. The inside was just as nice and rich as the outside. A serving girl greeted them and directed them to the half of the shop dedicated to wands, though Jon wanted to look at all the armored robes on the other half.

Their father picked up two wand holsters and servicing kits from a stand and called out into the maze of high shelves. “Tobho!”

A bald man with a short grey beard appeared quickly with a proud grin. “Lord Stark. Do I get the pleasure to see two more Starks bonded with my work or did you break another of my pieces of art?” Tobho calling Jon a Stark made Lady Catelyn bristle.

“These two need wands and there is no one better to come to.” Being a reserved and practical person, it spoke highly of the quality if Eddard Stark praised one’s work.

“There is only one wand greater than any of mine. Let’s not dally then, it wouldn’t do for a Stark to be of age and not have a Mott wand!” The passionate wandmaker disappeared into the back and returned with his arms full of boxes. “Perhaps a White River Monster spine core for the Tully lad, like his mother? Elegant but powerful that one is.”

Robb gave the wand a wave and was knocked back onto his heels. “I don’t think that one is right for me.”

The old man shook his head. “No, no, not a fit for you but perfect for someone.” Mott plucked out another wand and gave it to Jon. “Rowan, like your father’s, and dragon heartstring. Twelve inches and stiff.”

When Jon grasped the wand, a loud drum rhythm thumped in his ears made him squint in pain and give it up without even waving it.

They both tried wand after wand until the two piles of boxes on the front desk were taller than Rickon. It was only the rare harsh rejections that kept their siblings from being bored. Apparently seeing Jon get flung into a window was funny to them. Fir, unicorn hair, elm, phoenix feather, ceder, elm… on and on it went until red, blue and grey filled the room from the end of the silvery white wand in Robb’s grasp.

“Poplar, unicorn tail hair, fourteen inch and stiff as iron. Good, good, a fine wand." Mott patted Robb on the back then turned to Jon. "Now you, you are tricky.” Jon didn’t find Tobho Mott’s comment as positive as the man did.

And so Jon’s pile grew and grew until even Arya was shorter than it, though that wasn’t entirely impressive. He just wanted to get his own wand quickly so Lady Stark had no reason to complain about him taking too long. What if he didn’t even match with any wand? Was he destined to bond with a lesser crafter’s wand? Were these too good for a bastard? He grabbed the offered white stick and swished the thing through the air irritably. Red, gold, green and black sparkles danced around the room like birds fighting before dying out, leaving only the comforting warmth of the wand in his hand as evidence of the match. Jon was silent but couldn’t help but smirk at the heat coursing through his arm, it was a surreal feeling.

Mott studied the wand. “Curious, curious, that you would be cursed with such a wand.”

“What?” The magical tool in Jon’s hand felt like anything but a curse.

“Holly and phoenix feather.” The man’s sea blue eyes looked at Jon's father. “The wood is from the same branch as the wand of a man who has wronged your house. Unique core that one had; a sliver of a horned serpent’s horn, saved its owner’s life just for him to lose the duel five minutes later. He was against a blackthorn and thunderbird tail feather though, that wand was made for power, a shame I hadn’t been asked to make it. Despite the loss, that holly wand was one of my favorite commissions, it is a sin when the Minister snapped it.” Mott examined Jon’s wand once more when he finished reminiscing over his other creations. “Oh? And the feather has a sister… It came from a picky bird, you will need to be great to live up to its expectations and mine.”

Examining the red runes incised on the pale wood, Jon dismissed the man’s superstition. His father cared little for such nonsense and neither did Jon, it was just wood, magical wood, but still wood. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.” He had a wand, he was going to Hogwarts, he’d be away from Catelyn Stark soon, Jon would be great, better than great without her breathing down his neck. He’ll finally be able to make a name for himself, to prove that he can be as good as Robb and their father.

His father though had a slight frown as he looked down at Jon but said nothing. The lord passed over the gold to Tobho Mott for their purchases and bid the wandmaker a good day.

The rest of the afternoon passed much like the previous year when they had gotten Theon’s supplies for his first year. They picked up their robes, cauldron, telescope and other school necessities. The only hiccup was Theon sneaking off into the Street of Silk only to come back with slumped shoulders but a grin. No one else had noticed but Jon and Arya.

Together they traveled by portkey to the clearing in the Wolfswood, the clearing was warded to be unnoticed by muggles. Lord Stark liked to have them walk back if the weather was nice enough. Sansa either loved the walk or hated it depending on how beautiful it was that day. This time it wasn't up to her standards; no wildflowers were in bloom, no autumn leaves to dance in the wind with, not enough snow and frost to make it a winter wonderland.

To get away from her whining he and Robb raced each other to the bridge with their trucks lightened and shrunken in Lord Stark’s charmed pocket. It was at the finish line they found it; by the creek was a massive body. Robb had less sense than Jon and approached it without caution. 

Jon watched the form for any movement with his hand on his wand. He’d never cast a spell before but he’d spent plenty of time reading in Winterfell's library and practicing the movements with sticks while Robb had received private potions lessons from Lady Stark. The stunning spell was on the tip of his tongue and his wand was warm as if it too was ready to help defend Robb. At the thing’s belly, which could probably contain three entire Rickons, the direwolf's babies wiggled.

“I think it’s dead.” His brother leaned down into the squirming mass of fur and pulled a pup out.

By then Greyjoy and the others had caught up to them. “Gods, what in seven hells is it?”

Having a closer look made it clear what the beast was no matter how unbelievable. “It’s a wolf,” Robb answered proudly.

“More like a monster.” Theon tried to act cool but Jon could see the pinch of fear in his eyes. There was reason to be afraid if the wolf had been alive, it was the size of a pony and probably weighed more than all three of them plus Lord Stark. “It must be magical.”

“Of course it is magical, it is a direwolf.” Jon had read that hundreds of years ago Stark lords had direwolves as familiars. The wolves had magic resistant fur that made them strong partners in wars and they had some foresight abilities. Unfortunately they’d been thought to have died out as the many wars had killed them alongside their partners. Their enemies used to made rich winter cloaks from the coats even though the fur lost almost all the magical resistance at the animal’s death. The pelts were favored far more so than the bristly fur of the ancient Lannister’s captive nemean lions.

His siblings approached and each seemed to know just which pup they wanted, he and Rob dealt them out. Sansa avoided the corpse though, filled with maggots as it was, she probably thought she’d wake one night to them crawling out her ears, that may have been the fault of Arya’s accidental magic more so than the dead wolf. Getting up he passed her the last one, a small silvery thing, calmer than the rest. “This one is for you.”

Sansa’s lips transformed from a disgusted curl to a radiant grin. “Aww! It is so cute!” She accepted the pup with open arms and cradled it to her chest lovingly like her mother often attempted with Rickon.

Looking down at the decaying mound that was the direwolf mother, Jon felt an ache in his heart that there were no more pups. Five pups, three boys and two girls, just like the trueborn Starks. There was no direwolf for a measly bastard like him. He backed away a few steps from the group so it would be harder for someone to see how watery his eyes were, not that they’d look at him when they were so entertained with their wolves. He felt a large hand settle onto his shoulder.

The touch belonged to his father. Lord Stark’s grey eyes were soft and though his face was still stony it seemed warmer, more kind than usual. “Did you not want a pup?”

“They are a sign, my lord, for House Stark. They weren’t meant for me.” He had to blink back how much that hurt, whatever sent the pups, whether it was magic, fate, or the gods, they hadn’t deemed Jon a Stark. Jon didn’t miss the slight lift at the corner of Lady Catelyn’s lips.

His father frowned at the words and failed to meet Jon’s eyes. Lord Stark gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before moving to his children. “All of you will feed them and train them yourself, if they are to be your familiars you must bond with them. If you fail them then it will be your loss and you who will bury them. These are no dogs, Starks of old took direwolves into war, they can kill many wizards on their own and are an even greater threat to muggles. Are you sure you want this responsibility?”

As the chorus of “Yes!” came from his siblings, Jon could only watch on in pain.

“Ned.” Lady Stark directed her husband’s attention to the mother wolf’s neck. When the lord pulled an antler from the corpse, she continued. “Do you think it is a sign?”

Lord Stark stared at the bloody prongs in his grasp. “No, my lady, worry not. You know my beliefs on divination.”

“I know your distrust of its accuracy, but I fear this is no less a sign than the pups. I will open my old books.” The redheaded woman glanced with concern at her children then back to the direwolf. “We must have someone collect the remains, if any muggles find it…”

“That would be wise but the muggles wouldn’t find it regardless, even in death magical creatures naturally mask themselves from the non-magical world to varying degrees. I sometimes forget that you never took Care of Magical Creatures.” Lord Stark gave a hint of a smile to his wife. “Still, a direwolf deserves to be laid to rest in Winterfell. We best continue home, it is getting late.”

With that they returned to the path back to Winterfell. Jon sulked behind everyone as they chattered happily over their new pets. He stilled when he heard it, if heard was even the right word for it.

His lagging pace caught Lord Stark’s attention and his father seemed hesitant to bring focus to Jon. Concern won out though. “What is it, Jon?”

“Can you hear it?” Jon still could, but he couldn’t describe it.

Theon snorted. “Hear what? The wind? Your sniffles?”

Ignoring the ward, Jon made his way back to the direwolf mother, to the patch of snow near her. The pile was the only one to survive the afternoon, summer snows almost never lasted past noon even in the shade. This patch had survived and it was almost the evening, Jon put it down to the magic of the direwolf. In the snow he spotted rubies, two specks of red. From the bank he pulled a white pup. He was a Stark but he was masked in snow, just like his pup.

Getting his own direwolf was enough to make him smile, not even Theon could bring him down. His father’s comment about the other pups driving his own away had hurt. Between his pup and his upcoming year at Hogwarts, Jon had enough to be happy about.

The rest of summer flew by and soon enough it was the first of September. He’d been to King’s Cross once before and that was to see Theon leave on the Hogwarts express, he’d been both envious and thankful to be rid of the ward then. Now though it would be his and Robb’s first time on the red train.

Jon and his brother had been worried that they wouldn’t be allowed to take Ghost and Greywind to school but a week earlier their father had summoned them to his office to read them part of a letter granting them permission from Headmaster Arryn. Both were more than happy to not be split from their familiars, though Jon might have liked it had the Headmaster said they couldn’t have more than one pet just so he could leave the blasted Raven behind to torment Lady Catelyn.

While they could have floo’ed straight to King’s Cross rather than Diagon Alley, Lord Stark preferred to walk them through the city to the station as Sansa enjoyed sightseeing. Last year, Theon being slow to pack had forced them to go directly to the platform. Lady Catelyn had made certain that wasn’t the case this time, Jon wished they were late just so he could be closer to the magical world quicker even if he knew that they’d get to the school at the same time regardless.

The station was bustling with people, everyone buzzed around like a swarm of bees around a beehive. As they speared their way through the mass of people, Jon tried to pick out who else might be his fellow students, he found the easiest way to identify other wizards was if they had a caged bird. Most purebloods likely came by floo, not just to avoid muggles but because it saved their children from having to change into their school robes.

At the pillar between platforms nine and ten, Lady Catelyn led her youngest children though at a slight jog, the others ran. Watching Robb speed through the magical barrier, Jon rolled his eyes, running into a wall would draw more attention than walking but he also spotted a man lingering and watching every person to enter so they were likely a ministry employee there to ensure no muggle noticed. Instead of running Jon walked half the way before kicking off the ground and coasting with the cart onto platform nine and three quarters.

Lord Stark was not far behind and swiftly directed Jon to his siblings, preventing him from observing his schoolmates. The man rested his hands on Jon’s shoulders as he addressed his two sons. “Now boys, I expect you to behave and write regularly, no excuses.” There was a strange nervousness to their father that Jon had never seen before but it was well hidden. “Jon, may I have a word?”

Jon gulped but nodded, he had no idea what couldn’t be said in front of the others. Was he going to finally be told not to best Robb now that their grades would be public, Lady Stark already hated it when it came to private lessons with Maester Luwin, a bastard shouldn’t best an heir. 

Leading him towards an unpopulated wall, Lord Stark took a knee and once again held Jon by the shoulders. “Jon, I want you to be careful. There are people who may dislike you for my sins, for your blood.”

He bit his tongue knowing what the conversation was about, his father was a figurehead of the rebellion and made enemies. It wasn’t that fact that bothered Jon but the other implication of the term ‘blood.’ If Lord Stark didn’t include Robb, then it wasn’t about being a Stark but rather about Jon being a bastard and with an unknown mother, many would assume his blood status. “Am I a half-blood?”

The man refused to meet his eyes. “We shall speak on your mother when you are older. Now let's get back to the others, you must wish to say your goodbyes.”

Being denied once again felt like what Jon imagined a piercing spell to the heart felt like, painful and soul crushing. Jon would give up going to Hogwarts if it meant learning about his mother.

When they returned Theon had already left to join his friends, Jon didn’t believe they were any better than Theon himself as most of them were also snakes. Lord Stark had been disappointed at his ward’s sorting, the whole family knew he distrusted the green house for being dishonorable, selfish and cowardly. Jon personally didn’t think Theon could have been placed anywhere else.

“Now say your goodbyes, you two. We’ll see you for winter break or the first quidditch game if Theon makes the team.” There was no doubt that the Starks would not be wearing green even if they did attend, Winterfell had been a Gryffindor and Hufflepuff household ever since Hogwarts’ founding with only one known exception.

Arya snorted with all the disrespect a seven year old could. “If any of them will make a team it’ll be Jon or Robb! Jon’s the best flier! Then he’ll get a new broom and I can have his old one!”

Jon couldn’t help but grin at his little sister and ruffle her hair. “Unfortunately first years are not allowed to try out, so you’ll have to wait another year.”

“That is stupid! I hope it changes soon.” Arya pouted like the child she was.

“It is the way of things. You’ll have to convince Father to write Headmaster Arryn again if you want things changed.” Jon scratched Ghost behind the ear.

Overtop Arya’s tiny form, a family caught Jon’s eye, the Targaryens. It made more sense now why Lord Stark wanted to warn him, if the house of dragons wanted revenge for his father’s part in deposing them then as a bastard Jon would be their target. The entire family stared at him.

There were rumors that the Mountain had been sent to kill the three that had been inside the Red Keep but clever warding from Rhaegar Targaryen had protected them even after his death. Whatever spell or runes were used still remained a mystery and the man seemingly took the knowledge to the grave. The protection hadn’t extended to the man that killed Jon’s grandfather and uncle however, and so the Mad King had been cursed in the back by the Kingslayer, but the prince’s mother and siblings lived. All of them were forced to vow away their claim to the throne, though the minister wanted them dead.

Ignoring the cold glare of the Targaryen boy in the green tie, Jon focused on the beautiful purple eyed Dornishwoman: Ashara Dayne. He’d heard the whispers in Winterfell that she might have been his mother. Jon wanted to speak with her, he’d brave the dragonfire just to know if the rumors were true but he was forcefully turned away from her by his father.

“You two best claim a compartment, the train is leaving soon.” Lord Stark gave their luggage a quick lightening charm and knelt before them. “Make friends, my boys.” With one last pat he nudged them towards the red train.

Jon personally thought it impractical to have them travel to the Crownlands just to take a magical train to the Vale but it was the way of things. They’d managed to find an empty compartment after a minute and while they waited Jon told his brother of Lord Stark’s warning. As the clock ticked closer to eleven they were joined by Torrhen Karstark and Daryn Hornwood. Daryn was a year above them and already a Gryffindor.

When the train started moving they all waved to their families and watched amused as Arya ran along with the transport until the platform ended and they were out of sight.

It didn’t take long for quidditch to come up in conversation. “Are you going to try out this year?” Robb asked, nudging the second year.

Daryn slumped back in his seat and grimaced from either the question or a foul Bertie Bott’s Every Flavor Bean. “No point, our team is going to be insane these next few years. Between Targaryen and Tyrell what chance do I have? The only real openings are a chaser spot and backup positions.”

Groaning, the Karstark bit the head off a particularly evasive chocolate frog. “Harry wouldn’t stop practicing all summer, even Alys was put off from flying. He thinks he might lose his spot on the line up to one of the two.”

“Bloody hell.” Robb commented as he caught another wild frog before Greywind could devour it. “Are they really that good?”

“I don’t know, but the whole team is either excited to have them or fearing for their positions. I heard Robar Royce was pissed at the possibility of not making the main team when his older brother is captain and his little brother is the seeker. Either way, the Gryffindor-Hufflepuff game is going to be insane. Bolton almost beat Waymer last year and they have Tarth. I’m almost glad I won’t be on that end of her beater bat.” The Hornwood heir shivered.

They talked of the sport, the direwolves, wands and their summers until a knock sounded at the door. With Jon against the window it fell on Robb to answer which he did with no hesitation.

The door slid open to reveal a tan face with silky white hair. Aegon Targaryen. Shadowing him was his pretty dark haired older sister. Both were already wearing their school uniforms. The boy’s vibrant violet gaze focused on Jon over Robb’s shoulder. “Stark, we were wondering if we could speak with J?”

“J?” Robb’s face wasn’t visible to him but Jon could imagine the mix of confusion and distrust. “Jon?”

It was the girl who answered with a nod in Jon's direction. “Him.” She too refused to pay much mind to Robb. Jon couldn’t tell if her eyes were black or such a dark purple that there was no point in differentiating the two. At her neck was a blue and bronze tie, a Ravenclaw.

“Sorry, we are busy.” Robb clearly remembered Lord Stark's words of warning to Jon. Now with the two Targaryens barely giving the trueborn Stark any time of day and memory of Viserys’ earlier glare, Robb acted as a shield.

Aegon narrowed his eyes. “But-”

The boy was cut off by his sister. “Enough, Egg.” She gave her brother’s collar a tug before addressing their entire cabin. “Our apologies for wasting all of your time.” The Targaryen girl gave a slight downwards tilt of the head before dragging her brother away but not without one last glance at Jon.

The remainder of the journey went without any hiccups and took far less time than it should have. They seemed to travel hundreds of miles every hour. One moment the Crownlands, the next a view of the forests and fields of the Riverlands and then finally the mountains of the Vale.

As a group they’d gone through plenty of candy, there now lived three chocolate frogs in the wilderness of the eastern Riverlands as Robb had to throw them out after prying them from Greywind’s slobbery jaws. They’d managed to amass a small collection of cards: Sharra the Witch Queen, Ursula Upcliff, Davos the Dragonslayer, and Nymeria. Robb had even pulled Bran the Builder and Florian the Fool. Jon had ended up with one of the Last Hero and Jaehaerys the Conciliator.

When the train finally started to slow and they had changed into their colorless uniforms, Jon realized Ghost was gone. Refusing Robb’s offer of aid, Jon ventured into the crowded halls in search of his direwolf. He could not believe he lost Ghost already, the wolf had been with them for much of the ride.

Jon didn’t know what in particular made him knock on one particular cabin when he had walked past so many already. When a female voice beckoning him inside broke through the giggling, Jon slid the door aside.

He cursed his very very strange luck as the compartment contained one Rhaenys Targaryen. On the Dornish girl's lap rested the white pup, fate could not give him a win without him stepping in direwolf dung at the same time.

The Targaryen bared her white teeth at him in a smile. “You must be looking for this cutie!” She nuzzled the pup against her face and kissed the wolf between the ears as it tried to lick her face.

“Aye, may I have Ghost back.” It wasn’t a question and Jon wanted to get away from any Targaryen as quickly as possible. She had years of education on him and had surely cast her first spell long ago.

One of the blondes in the cabin snorted, one of the two pretty ones. “I think the wolf found itself a new owner.”

Rolling her eyes, the Dornish girl gave Jon a sheepish grin, the soft kind that Sansa gave anyone who caught her swiping lemon cakes from the kitchen. “He followed me from your compartment. And what Val means to say is that she refused to let me return him as she wishes to claim the furball for herself.”

Val shrugged. Judging by her bronze and bone earrings, Jon figured she was a wildling from either north of the Wall or one of the Vale mountain clans. “I might just have to steal you too if you come with such a beast.”

Jon didn’t know exactly what she meant but he was sure he was flushed red, half the girls were laughing while Rhaenys chastened her friend. “May I have Ghost back?” He tried again, slightly more polite.

Black hair whipped as the Targaryen girl turned back to him. “You may. But it may be better if he stays with me.”

He grinded his teeth and frowned at the girl for trying to steal his direwolf, she was acting as if anything in sight was free for her to take.  “Why?”

“First years take small enchanted boats across the lake while upper years take carriages. I think Ghost might prefer the carriage.” The girl gave Ghost a playful scratch behind the ear and a coo.

Narrowing his eyes, Jon observed the others in the cabin. A tall black haired, blue eyed Hufflepuff girl. Another badger; this one a very tall, muscular and ugly blonde. A pretty green-gold eyed, blonde Ravenclaw. Then there was Wynafryd Manderly, Val, and Rhaenys, all of which were also eagles. There also was the black cat lounging on one of the overhead shelves.

After scrutinizing them enough, Jon sighed in defeat. “Fine, I better get him back.”

“You have my word.” Rhaenys bowed, not that the word of Targaryens was worth much. For all he knew she intended to pluck the direwolf for its hairs and collect its saliva for evil purposes. As the train came to a stop and Jon bumped into the doorframe, she spoke up again. “Leave it open. Also don’t worry about your luggage or your raven, the elves bring them to your dorm and aviary once you get sorted. Go back to your friends.”

A student behind him seemed to sense his mistrust. “It isn’t a prank, don’t worry.” The girl had silver-gold hair with black roots and indigo eyes. “Allyria Dayne, Head Girl for the year, you can trust me, Rhaenys too for that matter. Viserys and my cousin, Gerold, are the only ones you have to worry about.” The young woman who may very well be his aunt smiled before departing alongside another upper year who sported a limp.

Jon turned back to the group of girls. “Sorry. Thank you for watching Ghost.”

“We are happy to watch him anytime.” Rhaenys replied.

“I doubt that once he gets to be the size of a pony.” He took in their shocked faces before disappearing into the crowd to find his brother.

Robb, Greywind and the others found him quickly. His brother immediately noticed that the white direwolf was still absent. “Did you not find Ghost?”

“Rhaenys Targaryen had him.” Jon held back a grin watching his brother pale.

“She didn’t hurt him, did she?”

Shaking his head, Jon glanced at the crown and spotted the girl walking with her cat in her arms and direwolf padding along at her side. “Ghost likes her and she seems alright.”

His brother frowned, missing the momentary sight. “Is he still with her?”

“Aye. She mentioned that first years ride boats across the lake and offered to take him instead.” Jon looked down at Greywind akwardly.

Robb too eyed his familiar with uncertainty. They wouldn’t know how the direwolf would take to being on a boat until it was too late.

The answer to their dilemma came in the form of Daryn Hornwood. “Greywind can come with me, and you’ll be reunited at the Gryffindor table.”

With the dark grey wolf going along with the Hornwood, the three boys followed the directions that the groundskeeper shouted out. The boat was smaller than Jon had imagined and he was thankful that the direwolves did not join them, it would have been made even worse if they’d been forced to take a fourth person.

As the fleet of tiny boats departed the shore by the force of magic alone, Jon took in the beauty around him. It was already dark, and the moonlight reflected off of the snowy mountain tops and the lake.

Atop a hill in the distance was Hogwarts, its windows flickering slightly like distant campfires and its structure looming over them like the near future. The castle rose higher than Winterfell but it had no curtain walls to accompany the wards or multiple buildings to house staff, it was not as expansive as Jon’s home but the grounds were even more massive.

"My brother says there is a kraken in the lake." Torrhen’s comment made Jon scan the surface of the shiny black water for signs of life. 

"Did Theon drown himself like his god?" Jon’s snark got him a slap on the shoulder from Robb. His brother was actually friends with the squid.

Unlike Robb who only had the tiniest of smiles, Torrhen laughed. While the Karstarks lived on the the eastern coast of the North and were spared the long history of raids, the boy’s father still fought the Greyjoys during their idiotic rebellion. “No, it is said to be friendly."

"Definitely not a Greyjoy then." History was filled with the evils of that family and that was part of the reason Jon had to put up with Theon in the first place. Theon was a typical ironborn; he was an ass, just like the rest of the Greyjoys were.

The Karstark didn’t chuckle this time. “My brother says Theon’s sister is actually pretty cool. She is the keeper for our team, though if Daryn is right then we might never get the chance to play with her outside of practice.”

Jon supposed it was possible that Theon’s sister was alright despite her family, Rhaenys Targaryen seemed kind enough for a Targaryen so it was possible to have a good cookie from a bad batch.

As their boat reached the shore and the groundskeeper led them up to the castle, their conversation turned to their future as Gryffindors. The house’s common room was said to have a beautiful view and shared dorms based on year and gender. While Jon would miss the privacy he had at Winterfell, he thought the adventures he’d have with his classmates would be worth the loss.

At the castle the group met another older man, this one wasn’t like the bald headed grizzly bear that led them but tall and gallant though just as strong looking. Even with the man’s confidence, he seemed out of place.

“Here to take the first years, Professor Selmy?” The groundskeeper's words started a tidewave of whispers that drowned out the rest of the conversation.

All Jon’s classmates shushed instantly the moment Ser Barristan Selmy addressed the group. “Welcome to Hogwards. I’ll take you all from here.” 

The new students were very eager to follow the man’s lead and Jon was shoved forward. The entire class was acting like excited dogs crossed with a hero worshiping Bran. Jon couldn’t blame them, it was Barristan the Bold and he was sure the knight would live up to his legend even if the man was dismissed from the Kingsguard after the war.

While others gawked at the large intricate halls and high vaulted ceilings, Jon noted that he was one of the few not completely in awe. He figured that most of those acting dignified grew up in manors or castles just as he did, though there were very few castles as large as Winterfell and Hogwarts. Either way the kids that were oohing and aahing were practically wearing bright badges showing off their birth status.

When they came upon another massive doorway, Professor Selmy stopped them. After welcoming them, the man went on to explain the house system and the houses before leaving them at the door to retrieve them momentarily.

Jon narrowed his eyes at the departure, even his father was reluctant to leave Jon, Robb and Theon alone for a moment. The staff hadn’t left the students untended since they boarded the train. He pushed down his suspicions once Robb joined a nearby conversation on how they were to be sorted.

Despite his confidence that he’d be in Gryffindor, Jon didn’t actually know how they’d be sorted. The nervousness of his classmates seeped into him and he started to get his own fears. What if he wasn’t even supposed to be there? He may have a wand, may have Ghost, but Jon never got to see his name on the acceptance letter. What if he wasn’t accepted and it was just a duplicate of Robb’s? What if he had to be sent back to Winterfell in shame?

Screams broke out behind him and after his split second of shock his hand was on his wand but he couldn’t raise it against the threat with the suffocating press of his classmate from all directions.

A herd of transparent white forms floated through a wall. Jon relaxed at the sight of them and placed his wand back in its holster. He’d never actually seen a ghost but he knew they couldn’t hurt anyone. House Stark was very firm on letting the dead be dead, dead in body and soul was the preference of the Starks. No Stark has chosen to live on in existence only. Despite the lack of spirits in the crypt, Jon was always confident that he could feel their disapproval when there.

The ghosts were led by a small boy, or was it a girl, a teen with a sword. “I see some daring in this lot, Bard." They snipped at another ghost. "The world would be a better place with more Gryffindors, I hope to see a good showing this year, especially girls, we girls can be just as courageous and noble as men. Now be brave little ones, you have nothing to fear but your expectations.”

The door creaked up and Selmy returned. “Encouraging the students again, Flint?” He wore an amused smile.

Danny Flint, the short haired tomboy nodded. “Aye, Ser!” She raised her sword above the head before pointing it at the door before calling out like a war charge, “Now, to the future!” Once more she guided the column of ghosts forward.

Professor Selmy watched them enter the Great Hall through the closed door before turning back to them. “The sorting ceremony will now begin. We will enter and you will wait as a group then you will be called forth and sorted alphabetically. Come along.”

The Great Hall was truly worthy of being in a school for witches and wizards. It felt truly magical, even more so than Winterfell with mystical warmth and the Glass Gardens. The ceiling was how the wizarding world was meant to be, enchanted, it was charmed to reveal the neverending expanse of the starry sky.

At the opposite end of the hall before the head table and on the dais, Professor Selmy conjured a stool and held a ratty hat. Sansa wouldn’t be caught without ten feet of the hat, though once it started singing she might have changed her tune.

Jon’s attention was pulled from the trashy accessory waxing poetry like a lovesick fool by a tug on his robe. Looking down he smiled at the sight of big scarlet eyes. He gave Ghost a scratch with his foot not wanting to cause a disruption by crouching. He tried to look through the snotty clump of first years for Rhaenys to show his gratitude but he was on the wrong side of the group.

From his right he received a poke on the arm. He turned to the sight of stunning blue-violet eyes and a Head Girl badge: Allyria Dayne. She had a questing brow raised and a finger pointed at the direwolf. With his nod, his maybe-aunt began petting the white wolf. 

“Why couldn’t someone just say that all we have to do is put on a special hat?” He heard a fellow first year mutter as the singing stopped.

Then the sorting began and Professor Selmy started calling names. “Ambrose, Alyn!”

When the Sorting Hat shouted the placement and the boy’s tie and robes changed color to match his newfound house. “Hufflepuff!”

Next to Jon, the house of the badger cheered loudly and Allyria clapped politely. Jon thought his poor direwolf must be startled by the noise but Ghost seemed unconcerned.

“Blackwood, Hoster!”

No pause was needed this time, the hat only had to touch one black hair and it made up its mind, that is if it had one. “Ravenclaw!”

Then it was the blue and bronze house that cheered and welcomed the tallest of Jon’s year.

“Chyttering, Lucos!”

“Gryffindor!”

That got the loudest welcome, Jon’s future house was going to be a wild one.

“Craster, Gilly!” The first girl to be sorted was bright red as she sat atop the stool.

“Hufflepuff!”

On and on it went. “Flowers” “Forrester”, a pair of Freys who were not twins.

“Karstark, Torrhen!”

The boy bumped Robb’s shoulder before he pushed his way to the stool. “I’ll see you at the table.”

Sure enough the hat bellowed “Gryffindor!”

“Miller, Ramsay!” The boy was ugly, with a fleshy fatness, blotchy pink skin and lips that looked like two worms if they were bloated and soaked in water for too long. His second -maybe third- hand robes made him look even worse but it was the cruel eyes that were particularly disgusting. Those eyes had sought Jon and Ghost more than once.

It was no surprise where the meaty lipped chubby boy was sent to. “Slytherin!” Jon thought the hat did a wonderful Jon weeding out the evil characters.

Redwyne to Ravenclaw, Reed to Hufflepuff, Rivers was sent to Gryffindor with catcalls, Royce and Sand to Ravenclaw.

Jon inhaled in preparation for his name to be called. There were fewer and fewer first years to be beckoned forth.

“Stark, Robb!”

His heart froze as his every fear escaped his imagination and became reality. He should have been called. Snow was before Stark, N before T. Even if he was a Stark, Jon would have been called before Robb just like how Robert Frey was called before Roslin. Was this all some cruel trick by Lady Catelyn? Had she faked the letter? Didn’t their father write his and Robb’s reply on the same parchment?

Gods, his knees were shaking as he watched Robb approach that stupid stool. To hide his weak legs, Jon knelt to pet Ghost. Having stable ground rather than an endless pit of despair beneath his feet did wonders. His direwolf’s calm presence was the only thing keeping him from running out of the hall with tears in his eyes.

“Gryffindor!” And there it was, one more dagger to Jon’s chest. The dream of him and Robb holding up the quidditch cup while draped in red and gold was over, crushed and pulverized.

Despite the hat being pulled off his brother’s head and no longer covering his deep blue eyes, Robb stayed seated just staring at Jon. The redhead needed prodding and a push from the knight to shuffle over to the absolutely raving table.

Then the professor continued on to shatter what remained of Jon’s glass heart. “Tar-?” Selmy paused, frowning at the long yellow-white list in his hand. “Pardon, there seems to be a mistake.” The reveal resurrected Jon, made his organs work overdrive in hope. Ser Barristan’s gaze lifted from the parchment and scanned those who remained before spotting Jon. He looked back and forth between Jon and the list. “Ah yes, Jon Snow!”

Jon would never be able to properly describe the way his name being called purged the lead from his veins and made him a quarter of his weight. He couldn’t even recall how he traveled to the mangy hat, those twenty seconds were lost to him. When darkness eclipsed his vision all he could hear was the thump of his own heart rattling against its cage.

“Hmm…” The hat vibrated with the uncertain hum. “Very interesting… You aren’t who you think you are.”

Recalling that the hat never spoke like this to anyone else, Jon figured it was using some type of mind magic and thought his reply instead of speaking as a test. “What do you mean?”

“That is for you to learn on your own.” The bloody hat brought it up, it could at least have the decency to offer a conclusion. “Now, you are quite easy to place, aren’t you? Yes, very brave and honorable, you’d make a good Gryffindor.”

Instantly Jon was relieved, it was that simple. “Perfect. Place me with Robb.”

Unfortunately the sentient rag was one of those monologue types. “But. You are also as loyal and hardworking as a badger. Smart too but not for the sake of learning, no, no, you learn with purpose. And talent, my, you have plenty of talent. And such a thirst to prove yourself to be of worth. What a strong heritage to boot. Perceptive, yes…” The hat was getting bad ideas and Jon had to put an end to that.

Jon recalled the reputation the house of lions had and tried to argue. “I’m brave and chivalrous, put me with Robb in Gryffindor.” It was that simple, he thought even a hat with a drop of intelligence could understand that.

The blasted thing ignored him. “You could be great in Slytherin, that is what you want isn’t it, to be great and to be someone?”

Ridiculous. “I don’t want to be great, I want to be in Gryffindor.”

“That is only half true, I see it all in your head, you lie to yourself. You wish to be as good and kind as Lord Stark, though not for doing what is right but to prove yourself to be better than a bastard. Now where to put you, Gryffindor, Hufflepuff or Slytherin? You could become the model of any of the three in time but I know just where to put you…”

Jon got a sickening feeling in his stomach. “No. Not Slytherin, not Slytherin, not Slytherin!” He chanted in his mind hoping the hat might hear his plea.

“Slytherin!” The poor hat doomed itself to eternal life as Ghost’s chew toy. If it was lucky then it would be well protected and take slightly longer to steal. And if it were beyond lucky then it would not be enchanted with durability charms to extend its slobbery suffering.

In the wake of the decision, Jon glared at it innards. He stewed in his anger, the raggedy thing doomed him, cursed him to swim in the swamp with the rest of the snakes and scum. 

The darkness was ripped from Jon’s head by Professor Selmy, unfortunately not as literally as Jon would have preferred. “To the table, Mr. Snow,” commanded the man before he continued with the sorting. “Tarly, Samwell!”

With a cross between a growl and a groan, Jon walked to the green table. They didn’t even clap for him. They wanted him as much as he wanted them. Why would the house of blood purity want a bastard half-blood. He shouldn’t be there with them, he should have been next to Robb but now Jon doesn’t even have the courage to look at his brother.

As he made his way to the empty end of the table which was regrettably close to Theon and his friends, Jon’s arm was roughly tugged and he was forced to look at lilac eyes and a cruel smirk. “I hope you know what happens to stray dogs, bastard.” Viserys Targaryen laughed at his own joke with his little posse. The ‘prince’ released him from the bruising grip when Jon nearly pulled him from his spot on the bench, the ass didn’t bless Jon with any more of his presence.

The poor interaction made Jon even more angry. It was just not his day. Even Rhaenys Targaryen leaning back in her seat to smile at him wasn’t enough to lighten his mood.

At the farther end of the table, the first thing Jon heard from the house of snakes was a slighter older blonde haired boy who was sitting by Theon. "What did we do to get stuck with so many bastards this year?"

Unfortunately Theon was by the open seats. “How in seven hells did you end up here?”

“I-I don’t know.” Jon still did understand what made him a snake.

Theon clearly didn’t care either way. He turned back to the sorting muttering: “Well at least I’m not the only disappointment anymore.”

And wasn’t that the thing. What would his father think of him? His own son, a Slytherin, a selfish liar. To Lady Stark this would be confirmation of all her wild theories. What would Arya think of him? Would she still want him to be her favorite brother?

“Hufflepuff!” Jon wished the hat would just catch fire and shut up.

The dimpled blonde boy next to Theon spoke up at the sort. “He sure is fat enough to be a puff, isn’t he. Bet Hefty Helga is proud of him.”

Jon looked up at the dias and sure enough the boy was quite blubbery but that didn’t give the sandy haired ass the right to be such a dick.

“Tyrell, Margaery”

The girl was small and pretty with slightly curly brown hair. She was not someone that anyone might find threatening and yet she was from the second most wealthy family in Westeros and third most powerful.

It took but a few seconds for the hat to know where she was to go. “Slytherin.”

As the girl got closer, the blond ass from earlier elbowed Greyjoy. “Dibs.”

“Dick,” Jon mumbled as he rolled his eyes.

“Hello,” a sweet voice spoke up from behind him before the girl sat down on the bench next to him. Margaery Tyrell seemed even more out of place among the Slytherin table than he did, she was the picture of innocence, tiny with the largest rich gold-brown eyes.

He had no clue why she chose to sit next to him, but maybe she too felt she was misplaced even if the hat was so sure of itself that it hardly spoke to her. “Uh, hi?”

At his awkward reply she smiled kindly. “You didn’t seem happy with your placement?”

“Oh yes, I’m very pleased to be in this esteemed house,” Jon commented dryly. He glanced at Theon’s group, Viserys Targaryen, then the cruel ugly first year.

The Tyrell gave a girlish giggle. “And they say Slytherin is the house of the clever…”

Jon nodded with a smirk, so far none of the snakes he has met seemed particularly clever. Heck, the Targaryen practically warned him that Jon would be his target. “I suppose they have to go somewhere.”

“Mhmm. Willas says Slytherin has been slacking recently. You wanted to be in Gryffindor with your brother, right?” Margaery tilted her head in question like a puppy.

“Aye. I should have been with Robb.” He wouldn’t be flying with Robb in quidditch anymore but against him. Jon wouldn’t be winning the cup anytime soon if the rumors were true about Aegon Targaryen and…Margaery’s brother?

She observed him for a moment before shrugging. “Two of my brothers are lions as well and Willas is a Ravenclaw and Head Boy. Are there many Sytherins in the Stark family? My family has been in all the houses; my parents were both Hufflepuffs, but one of my grandfathers was a Gryffindor and the other a Ravenclaw, and Grandma Olenna was a Slytherin like me.”

“The Starks favor Hufflepuff and Gryffindor.” That fact made his sorting hurt all the more. Jon’s father had been a Hufflepuff, his grandparents, uncles and Aunt Lyanna had all been Gryffindors. It was rare for a Stark to be a Ravenclaw, and Slytherin… “I’ve only heard of one Stark who was in Slytherin: Cregan.”

Once more she cocked her head to the side and gazed at him curiously with her doe eyes. “Was he bad?”

Jon thought over his lessons and his father’s tales. “I don’t think so. Some at home think that he was the best Lord of Winterfell but others don’t think highly of him, they say he almost restarted the Dance of the Dragons. He was the only Stark to be Hand of the King, though he quit after a week or two.”

“That doesn’t sound very Slytherin, only two weeks!” Margaery shook her head while smiling.

“Maybe he thought it was dangerous. The previous king had just been murdered and he was punishing those responisble.” Jon offered unsure why he was trying to make Cregan sound more like a snake.

The Tyrell hummed. “Fair enough. Anyway, being in Slytherin doesn’t make you bad. Just do what that Stark did well and don’t do what people didn’t like about him.”

He would need to learn more about Cregan then. She did also bring up a good point, he can be as good as he wants and the color of his tie can’t make him evil. Jon can act just as much like a Gryffindor in the house of snakes as he could if he wore red, it might make him a target to his housemates but he already was one.

“Hufflepuff!” The hat bellowed from atop the hat of the last student, another brunette girl. If Jon recalled Barristan Selmy’s call correctly then her last name was West-something. The professor took the ratty hat, rolled up the list and disappeared the stool with a flick of his wand.

Taking Selmy’s place on the dais was an absolutely ancient man, Headmaster Arryn. It was strange to realize that Lady Catelyn’s younger sister was married to the man, he was old enough to not only be Jon’s grandfather but his great grandfather. But besides looking a bit like a freckled white raisin, the second most powerful man in the realm appeared quite healthy. “To those who took their first steps in our great school today, I welcome you to Hogwarts. And to those of you returning, may we celebrate another year of learning and magic. There is no better way to do both than a feast so let us eat!”

As if the man gave a silent command, more food than Jon had ever seen in one place began appearing on the long tables. Meats, fruits, vegetables, salads, everything a boy could ever dream of. With a steak fork he speared a chop of lamb and dropped it onto the floor under the table for Ghost.

Margaery, with her plate much less covered than Jon's, had her eyes narrowed and her lips pursed. “How come you came after Stark if your name is Snow?”

Jon finished chewing before he spoke, it was a habit that saved him Lady Stark’s ire, that may have been more because it kept Jon quiet and out of mind rather than over manners. “I guess Professor Selmy just skipped me by accident. He started calling out Tarly before noticing." He didn’t mention how the man’s slip up nearly brought him to tears.

“Maybe it was his first time doing the sorting. Did you notice that all the other students seemed surprised that Professor Selmy read the list of first years to be sorted?”

He’d been too busy fretting over the sorting and his direwolf to notice so he shook his head.

“I’ll ask my brothers. Professor Baratheon seems to be healthy, it is hard to tell though with that frown. As deputy headmaster he should have done the sorting. Also fair warning; he is quick to take away house points, even from his brother. His class, History of Magic, is supposedly really boring.”

To her word, Stannis Baratheon was scowling at the head table. Jon wondered if he always looked so unhappy or if it was a special occasion. Had the man been able to do the sorting and was passed over? Had he felt slighted?

The sudden press of Margaery against his side made Jon turn back to his table. He flinched at the sight before him, even transparent it made bile rise in his throat. Softly glowing the color of winter roses was a ghost, it was bloody and headless, well not exactly headless as its head was in its hands but the man had been beheaded. The decapitated head spoke melodically yet with a harsh accent. “A Stark in Slytherin, a most welcome surprise.”

“I’m no Stark.” That had been made so clear to him over the years, even magic deemed him a snow as that was what Selmy’s list had down. “I’m a bastard.”

“One can be both.” With that said, the spirit floated away.

Jon was left confused by the strange conversation, if he could even call it that.

With the bloodied ghost out of sight, Margaery relaxed some and began to pick at her food again. “Why couldn’t we have had Alyssa Arryn or Danny Flint as our house ghost? The Bloody Bard makes me sick.”

He agreed with her, the stone faced woman floating around the Ravenclaw table or Danny Flint by Gyffindor would have been preferable. While Jon also found that the bard’s appearance killed his appetite, he disliked the specter for singling him out. Down the table by the upper years, two sets of cruel purple eyes watched him.

Groaning, Jon looked at Ghost and Margaery with concern. "You probably shouldn't be friends with me, it will only make things harder for you."

"Because you are a bastard?" Even with her kind eyes, he could help but flinch at her acknowledging him as illegitimate.

Reluctantly he nodded. "Aye. I'm not going to be well liked here. Viserys Targaryen and that Dayne over there already hate me. It won't be long before others do too. I'll be a target and you shouldn't be close when they attack."

"I think we should be friends, better to be friends with you instead of our housemates. Besides your friends are far superior to your enemies, you seem close with Houses Stark, Targaryen and Dayne, those two are just too stupid to realize."

Jon narrowed his eyes at her but he needed an ally of sorts in his house so he conceded. “I suppose.” The mention of houses made him remember she was both a pureblood and a Slytherin. It could all be a trick.

Ultimately there was no one Jon trusted at the table, not even Theon. Margaery was the closest thing to trustworthy and he'd still have to watch her, she is a snake too. Though so was Jon now, which was hard truth to stomach, but he wasn't supposed to wear green, he was meant to wear red. Jon would survive this house with his honor intact, Jon would preserve. He needed to be at the top, Jon would need to be one step ahead just to survive and three to have any sense of security.

He spent the next few moments with his muscles tense before realizing he was safe in the very populated room. Jon listened on as Margaery told him of much of the workings of Hogwarts, most of which she’d heard from her siblings.

Apparently in recent years Slytherin had been rather well known as being pathetic. It's said that the only talented person in the whole lot was the Minister's youngest brother Renly. The Baratheon was also largely expected to be the Head Boy for Jon's second year. 

Though Gerold Dayne was also notorious; allegedly he was already a superb duelist and talented at quidditch despite the lackluster team. The fifth year boy also had a reputation for cheating both on the field and in class.

Jon looked to the head table once more, he spotted the creepy man from the bookstore and wondered how kind the other teachers were if he was amongst them. Many of them appeared to just be old men. As he observed the staff, Jon flinched as his gaze met the unnerving stare of a red haired woman. Tearing his eyes away he continued on to a pale but plain looking man who stared emotionlessly at the far end of the Slytherin table where the ugly boy with the air of cruelty sat. He also noted that the headmaster was strangely absent.

Margaery cleared her throat to get his attention. “The small old woman up there is my grandmother, she teaches herbology even though she doesn’t care for it. She is waiting for Professor Aemon to die so she can teach arithmancy. Professor Aemon is a Targaryen, Aegon the Unlikely’s elder brother, he swore off his claim in a magical vow a long time ago so the Minister let him live. Grandmother was supposed to marry his nephew when she was young but the betrothal was broken off. If Tyrion Lannister hadn’t been the Minister’s good-brother then she would have been our head of house.”

“And the bald man there is Professor Varys, no family name. He is the transfiguration teacher, with an expertise in human transfiguration. Older students like to prank muggleborn first years and tell them he is actually a merman that transfigured his fish half into legs. Also don’t speak secrets in front of any magical portrait, Grandmother believes Varys uses them to spy on students and staff.”

The warning was very appreciated by Jon, and it earned her a bit more of his trust. “The muggle studies teacher, Professor Baelish, is a creep.” Following the visit to Diagon Alley, Robb and Jon had learned something about the man by overhearing their father with Lady Stark. “He owns brothels, on the Street of Silk and in the muggle world.”

He watched Margaery's lip curl in distaste. “I wasn’t going to take the elective anyway.”

As the feast died down, the headmaster gave a series of announcements: no entering the forest, no magic in the halls, quidditch tryouts… and then that it was time for bed.

The fifth year prefects, one of which was Gerold Dayne,, began to direct their houses out of the hall. The Dayne let the curvy Dornish female prefect do most of the work. On the way out Jon spotted a boy who could only be a Royce lead Robb, Torrhen and the other Gryffindors up at the moving staircases. The Slytherins descended and it only felt right that they were placed in the dungeons like unwanted junk and criminals, it was only wrong that Jon was with them. At a bare wall of stone, the girl stopped to explain the entrance and Dayne was clear that he would not repeat the explanation. At the word “Superiority” an entrance to the common room appeared.

With a clear view of the room, Jon could admit it was beautiful in a luxurious, cold and lonely way. Jon felt that summed up his future, maybe he ended up great like the hat claimed but he’d grow frosty and closed off. If he was in Gryffindor, he’d be welcomed, he’d be in a high tower with a cozy common room filled with good people for housemates.

There was only one redeeming thing about the room: the great windows gazing into the dark water of the lake. The fancy stonework, fine leather couches, and grand tapestries made the room a natural home for spoiled purebloods.

The female prefect gave a speech on house unity as Slytherin was often isolated by the other houses and so as snakes they had to stick together and be united. Jon decided he didn’t care for unity, for Slytherin pride, they earned their reputation as evil. He wouldn’t aid people like Viserys or Theon’s blonde friend. But he would play his part until he can safely rat them out and protect others from their villainy.

When the preaching was done, he and Margaery were separated as the boys and girls were escorted to their dorms. She gave him a polite “goodnight” and a wave before disappearing.

As first years their room was even deeper down the lake, upperclassmen had the luxury of fewer stairs to climb. It wasn’t a single room they came upon but a hall with five rooms and never before had Jon been so thankful. If he had to share a dorm with Ramsay Miller he might have gone to Headmaster Arryn and demanded to be resorted.

Each room was marked with the initials of its owner in silver cursive, Jon’s with an elegant “J.S.” His belongings as Rhaenys had claimed were already inside and he was all too happy to close the door and isolate himself. The bedroom was just as splendid as the rest of the common room and even had a window into the greenish depths of the lake. Jon even noticed that he had a private bathroom, which he actually thanked Salazar Slytherin in prayer for, the man clearly knew his house would not be above attacking each other when they were at their weakest.

Jon had no regrets about reading so far ahead of their course material now, he'd be able to keep the other bastard away with the spells if the boy tried anything, though he would need to look into more advanced locking charms and stay far ahead of the class if he wanted to feel safe. Perhaps he should teach Margaery too; he didn't like the way Ramsay looked at her or any girl really. Regardless, Jon would watch the boy and determine if he was a genuine danger magically. Viserys Targaryen and Gerold Dayne were the ones who worried him more, the older boys clearly hated him and as upper years they'd be much harder to defend against.

As he settled into bed with his direwolf on its own dog bed, Jon vowed not to let his house taint him. Jon would survive seven years of being in Slytherin with not only his life but his honor intact.