Gates of Roses

Chapter 1

Somehow, Hogwarts was exactly and wildly different than Harry expected it to be. But then again, that's how the entire wizarding world seemed to be. The Sorting Ceremony... sorted into their houses by a rather comical looking hat? But, as usual, the Sorting Hat was just one of the many wizarding tools that was highly accurate and useful.

Chatter swirled around the boy, none of it directed to him. He listened to the girl he met on the train... Hermione was her name, discuss the lessons she would be taking. It was rather boring prattle to him, but Percy Weasley appeared to be highly interested in explaining to the girl about the first year lessons. Harry jumped a little as a ghost appeared next to him, looking down at the steak he was cutting up. "That does look good," the ghost mourned.

"Can't you --?"

"I haven't eaten in nearly four hundred years," the ghost explained archly. "I don't think I've introduced myself. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service, the resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

Suddenly, Ron spoke up. " I know who you are! My brothers told me about you -- Nearly Headless Nick!"

Attracted by the conversation, Seamus Finnigan asked, "How can one be nearly headless?"

With an irritated look, Sir Nicholas seized his left ear and yanked. His head fell down to his shoulder, still connected to the rest of the body by a macabre hinge of flesh. Harry gulped, shocked at the display. Sir Nicholas put his head back on straight, pleased. "So! New Gryffindors, are you planning on winning the house championship this year? Slytherins have got the cup six years in a row! The Bloody Baron -- he's the Slytherin ghost -- is becoming almost unbearable."

Harry looked over at the Slytherin table, eyes first going to the witches and wizards still alive there. It looked to be a rather conniving and slimy bunch, how could he have possibly been thought to be sorted --

Stunned, Harry's thoughts grinded to a halt. A blond Slytherin was looking up at the Gryffindor table. No... he was looking at Harry. Very steadily, almost... hungrily. Harry flushed, and looked away, barely noting the Slytherin's ghost, then scanned the table again.

The boy was no longer there.

The hall slowly quieted, all topics obviously exhausted, when Professor Dumbledore stood. Harry put the matter out of his head, and listened.

"Now that we are all fed and watered, I would like to give a few start-of-term notices. First year students should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils." Dumbledore turned his twinkling eyes to the Weasley twins. "And a few of the older students would do well to remember that as well."

The twins smiled innocently, the hamsters in their brains already asking for another to relieve them.

"I also must remind you all that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors. Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Anyone interested in playing for their house team should contact Madam Hooch."

Quidditch? What was Quidditch?

"And finally, no student is allowed to walk around the grounds by his or her self," the professor finished, his voice strangely solemn and sad.

After a few confused blinks, Ron took pity on the confused boy. "I heard this story from Fred and George," he whispered to Harry. "In their first year, there was this big experiment going on. It was real hush-hush. To this day, not one person knows what the experiment was truly about. But, what put the experiment to an end was a sudden earthquake, centered around one room. When the teachers got there, there was blood all over the room, and... well, a student died."

"A student died?" Harry asked, his voice thick with shock.

Ron nodded, his red top bobbing sagely. "Yes. At least, that's the story. That's not the worse of it. Ever since then, people have reported seeing the student around the grounds. Those people who said they saw this student had disappeared or died horribly, supposedly in the same fashion the first student did."

"That's sick," Harry whispered back, aghast. "How did the student, the first one, die?"

At this, the newest Weasley student looked uncertain. "I don't know. But the other students that died... they were dismembered down to every joint."

Harry swallowed, the image those words conjured horrible. "That's sick," he repeated, his voice turning faint with shock. He was prepared to say more when a sudden burst of song interrupted his thoughts. When the song was over, he leaned over to speak to Ron again only to find he had gotten up to follow the rest of the Gryffindor students to their dorms. Sighing, he stood, looking around the hall.

Yes, over there were the Hufflepuff students... that crowd were the Ravenclaw group... and the slimy looking students were Slytherin...

The blond Slytherin was there. With the exact same look as before. Slowly, he nodded, his lips moving. Silent or not, it wouldn't have been heard in the din. However, his meaning came across clear.

Je vous attends ici.

He mouthed the words, bewildered. Ron saw his lips moving in confusion. "What was that, Harry?"

Harry stumbled over the pronunciation. "I think it's French, but I don't know..."

"You're pronouncing it wrong," Hermione cut in, her voice as stiff as usual. "First day at Hogwarts, Harry Potter, and you already have an admirer."

"What, I..." Harry trailed off. "You know what it means?"

Briefly, the girl looked uncomfortable. "Along the lines of 'I await you here,' or some such admiring nonsense." She spun quickly on her heel, striding off after the other Gryffindor students.

"I don't believe she knows what it means either," Ron confided in his new friend. "She was just unable to believe she didn't know something."

Harry lifted an amused eyebrow, looking back over at the Slytherin group as Ron chattered on.

The pale haired boy was no where to be seen.

***

If Harry was to catch another glimpse of the pale haired Slytherin, he was going to check himself into a mental ward. It had been a month since the first time he saw the boy, and at every turn, he would see him, looking over at him with an inscrutable look. A blink later, he would be gone! The worst seemed to be as he was on his way to Potions, as he would see the boy almost every day.

That would be nothing special, except... during the Sorting Ceremony, there was no boy with such pale hair sorted into Slytherin. Perhaps he was in fact a second year student, however... Harry's instincts screamed differently. There was something... too young about him to be considered a second year student.

"Ron, are you sure there are no records of the experiment?" he found himself asking constantly throughout the year. "Who was in it, who the student was..." The answer was always the same.

"Sorry, Harry. Maybe in the Restricted section of the library, but no one's allowed to get to those books."

Other than the random sight of the pale haired Slytherin, life at Hogwarts had fallen into a predictable pattern, right up to when in Potions class Professor Snape would aim a barb at The Boy Who Lived. One could almost time a watch to it. It set up a rather comfortable, if at time annoying rhythm.

"Come on, Harry! Or you'll be late!"

Harry shook himself out of his thoughts, and gathered up his books. They were being rather slippery buggers today, and he struggled to keep them together as he followed Ron out of the Gryffindor tower. One book slipped out of the middle, and clattered to the ground, the rest of the books following shortly after. "Go on. I'll catch up," he told his redheaded friend, bending down to collect everything.

Everything finally seemed to be in order when one book stood out. Curious, Harry picked it up, flipping the cover over. His eyes widened as he took in the diary format and the words scrawled elegantly on the page.

October 9

Had another amusing Potions class today. Gryffindor gits never are able to get a potion correct. I wonder why Professor Snape even teaches outside the Slytherin house. Must be the Headmaster's orders.

Found a very interesting spell. Showed it to Snape. He said it would be worth attempting, if only to see how You-Know-Who continues to live. Obtaining "eternity," how interesting.

Harry sat down in a nearby chair, not even caring he was missing Defense Against the Dark Arts. Was this one of the students that took place in the failed experiment?

Perhaps even the one who died?

He read on, eyes skipping over the passages about mocking the other students or rather intense Snape worship. Whoever wrote this diary had what appeared quite a crush on the oily Potions professor. Another turn of the page, and Harry stopped, startled. The whole page... was covered in hastily scribbled equations. Certain answers were circled, or crossed out heavily. Near one corner of the page, there were words scrawled there.

Castle where eternity lives...

Dreams Miracles to be opened unlocked in the castle...

Need sword...

Hesitantly, Harry turned the page, ready for another mess of magical equations and unusual ramblings. Instead, there was only a sketch... a very simple rose crest and two phrases.

Je vous attends ici.

Engage toi à mes côntés.

Harry slammed the book shut, startled. Two French phrases... one, as Hermione said, meant "I await you here." The other... he found his lips moving, speaking the meaning.

"Engage yourself to me."

He dropped the book on the ground, shaking himself. It seemed to be the diary of the student that had taken part in the experiments. But how did it end up with his books? Harry picked up the diary again, looking at the cover. Something was in here. Something powerful. Without knowing why, he went back to his bed and slid the book under his pillow. He'd take a look at it after...

Harry's eyes widened as he took in the time. Defence Against the Dark Arts was long over. He had spent the entire time reading the diary, and it was about time for Potions. How could he have spent his time on something so trivial, Harry asked himself as he rushed out the door. If he was late, Snape was going to have his head on a platter... or worse, that head on a pl-

"Oof!" Again, his books went flying as Harry bumped into a student. "I'm so sorry, I didn't see you there. I..."

"It's perfectly alright... Harry Potter," a rich, stiff voice said, the youthful intonations giving away the fact this was a first year student. "I've been waiting for you."

Harry looked up from his panicked gathering of books, and froze. The boy he had seen before, the blond Slytherin... was picking himself off the floor, nose in the air as he smoothed down his robes. "I've been seeing you..."

"Of course you have," the boy intoned, voice condescending. "I've been wanting you to see me." He placed a hand on Harry's gathered books, and moved in close. "I've been waiting for you here."

I await you here.

Harry swayed on his feet, suddenly dizzy. "You've been..."

"Are you really this stupid, or is it my dazzling face that's made you forget your wits?" the boy snapped, face scrunching up in an irritated scowl. "Yes, I have been." His head tilted up slightly, pinning Harry there with each breath that whispered across his lips. "Except, not here. I await you..."

A group of upperclass students walked by, chatting, the noise drowning out whatever the Slytherin was to say. His eyes closed briefly, then opened to the sight of nothing but the school in front of him. Harry spun around, trying to find who he had been talking to.

No one was around.

Sighing, he shook his head. He needed more sleep, obviously, if he was hallucinating. Harry started walking off to Potions when his foot kicked something small. Slowly, he bent down, and picked up the object.

It was a ring. A white ring, with the rose crest engraved on it.

Harry leaned against a pillar, feeling dizzy yet again. The words, this time spoken with the contemptuous Slytherin's voice, rang through his head.

I await you here.