stop pissing me off (i can play god and cut off your oxygen)

(if he wants smoke) he can find me in gotham

Harry was a bit disappointed that he didn't end up in Slytherin, but the Hat said he didn't have ambition or cunning so much as he craved being brave, being strong enough to protect himself (which wasn't wrong, but still). He consoled himself with the knowledge that at least he was in Gryffindor with Hermione (at least he wouldn't be alone in a new place).

The only problem was the attention he'd been getting since his Sorting. The Gryffindors seemed convinced he was the perfect Gryffindor because he was 'The Boy-Who-Lived', killing the greatest Dark Lord to exist since Grindelwald.

Harry didn't feel like a brave hero. He felt like a lamb for the slaughter, sacrificed to a pack of salivating wolves.

"Apparently you survived the Killing Curse as a baby," Hermione told him in the Library, a thick, aged tome in front of her. "There were loads of books that mention you and your family by name while I was reading to prepare myself for the culture switch, but it's astounding how many people know more about you and your family than you do."

"More like creepy," Harry grumbled. "If I can't even remember how I survived what makes people think I could do it again if I ever fight him again?"

"I've noticed that wizarding society is very anachronistic. They seem to think heroes are born with innate knowledge on how to combat evil." Hermione frowned as she read.

"What a load of rubbish. I didn't even know I was a wizard until this year, people seriously can't be expecting me to already know how to defeat a Dark Lord. Right?" The bespectacled boy knew he was asking things he already knew, but it was insane to think an eleven-year-old boy like him would know how to fight against a grown wizard with years of experience and power on his side.

Hermione's calculated silence told him what he already knew. He sighed heavily. Dumbledore had told him he was destined for greatness, but he didn't feel like a destined hero. He felt like a fraud.

"Should I ask Dumbledore for extra training? Better start early now, right?"

"That wouldn't be a bad idea, actually. Or you could ask teachers for extra spell practising assignments and tips on ways to use them outside the most obvious. Creativity can go a long way on the road to closing such a big gap in abilities."

"Would you be willing to help me study stuff like spells and research combat strategies?" Hermione rolled her eyes before giving one of her patented looks.

"Of course, I would, Harry. We're friends and I like doing that stuff anyway. You've got a big weight on your shoulders, the least I could do as your friend is helping you prepare for it." Harry smiled, trying not to cry.

"Thanks, 'Mione. Really."

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Jin-Woo was an odd bloke, Draco already knew that much, but the more he observed Jin-Woo when he knew the older boy wasn't paying attention, the more he liked him.

For all his silence, his scary, unapproachable aura and resting face, his cold, calculating behaviour and his tendency to avoid people, Jin-Woo was incredibly caring under it all. He would always make sure the new Slytherins knew that the stairs shifted positions at certain times, and how to navigate around that. He would make sure people struggling with homework in the common room had the resources they needed to understand the assignment better so they struggled less. He would tolerate the pranks, the teasing and the chaos the twins brought with them wherever they went, and even helped them plan certain pranks on other Houses. Jin-Woo was the first to test the twins newest inventions, offer improvements and give insight on how to achieve the greatest results. He got along well with the older students, too; sparring with some of them in the training rooms of the dorm, playing wizarding chess or talking about classes and assignments with others.