The sleek black SUV carved through the Virginia countryside like a blade through silk, its engine purring with the kind of mechanical precision that came from both supernatural speed and Klaus Mikaelson's obsessive attention to detail. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the rolling hills, painting the landscape in shades of gold and amber that should have been peaceful but somehow felt ominous given the tension radiating from the vehicle's occupants.
Klaus gripped the steering wheel with hands that had remained steady through a thousand years of violence, but today showed the subtle tremor of parental anxiety mixed with barely controlled rage. His dark hair was perfectly styled despite the long drive, and his expensive suit remained impeccable, but his jaw was clenched with the kind of tension that usually preceded either creative threats or actual violence.
"This is a mistake," he said for the dozenth time in the past hour, his cultured British accent cutting through the silence like a scalpel. "Hope belongs at home, with family, not locked away in some boarding school with strangers who couldn't possibly understand what she needs."
"What she needs," Hayley Marshall replied from the passenger seat, her voice carrying the patient exhaustion of someone who'd been having this argument for months, "is to be around other kids her age who understand what it's like to be different. She needs normal teenage experiences, not just training sessions and security briefings."
Her dark hair fell in waves around a face that had been sculpted by both werewolf genetics and years of supernatural politics, beautiful in the way that could launch wars or end them. She wore jeans and a simple blouse with the kind of casual confidence that came from being comfortable in her own skin, even when that skin came with supernatural baggage.
"Normal," Klaus scoffed, his knuckles whitening as his grip tightened on the wheel. "There's nothing normal about our daughter, Hayley. She's a tribrid—the most powerful supernatural being born in a millennium. Normal teenagers don't accidentally level buildings when they have nightmares."
From the backseat came a deliberately exaggerated sigh, followed by the kind of pointed silence that only a teenage girl could weaponize effectively.
Hope Mikaelson sat slumped against the leather upholstery, her arms crossed over her chest in the universal posture of adolescent rebellion. At fourteen, she was already showing signs of the devastating beauty that ran in both sides of her supernatural heritage, with her father's dark hair and her mother's warm brown eyes. But right now, those eyes blazed with fury that made the air around her shimmer with barely contained magical energy.
She'd been silent for the past three hours, ever since Klaus had shown up at their New Orleans apartment with suitcases already packed and announcements about educational opportunities that sounded suspiciously like exile to anyone with functioning ears.
"Seven years," she said suddenly, her voice deceptively quiet in the way that made smart people step back and stupid people lean forward. "Seven years since you've been home for more than a few hours at a time. Seven years of birthdays and holidays and school plays that you've missed. And now you show up to dump me at some boarding school like I'm a problem you need to solve."
Klaus's jaw tightened further, the muscle jumping with supernatural tension. "Hope, you know why—"
"The Hollow," Hope interrupted, her voice dripping with the kind of scorn that could have corroded steel. "Yes, Father, I'm well aware of the cosmic entity that you and your siblings managed to absorb while trying to save me. I'm also aware that you've used that as an excuse to avoid actually parenting me for most of my life."
"That's not—" Klaus began, then stopped, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly that hairline cracks began to appear in the leather.
"Not what?" Hope shot back, leaning forward in her seat with predatory grace that was pure Mikaelson. "Not accurate? Because from where I'm sitting, it looks exactly like you've decided that shipping me off to boarding school is easier than actually dealing with the complicated family dynamics you created."
Hayley turned in her seat to look at her daughter with the kind of patient concern that came from years of mediating supernatural family drama. "Hope, that's not why—"
"Isn't it?" Hope's voice climbed toward the register that made windows vibrate and magical energy crackle visibly in the air. "Seven years of video calls and birthday presents delivered by courier. Seven years of 'I'll be home soon' and 'this is for your own protection' and 'the family needs to stay separated.' And now, instead of finally coming home, you're dropping me off at a school for supernatural misfits like I'm some kind of charity case."
Klaus pulled the SUV to the side of the road with supernatural speed and precision, the vehicle sliding to a stop in the grass shoulder without so much as a tire squeal. When he turned to face his daughter, his blue eyes were blazing with the kind of fury that had once made entire kingdoms surrender without a fight.
"You think this is easy for me?" he snarled, his voice carrying harmonics that made the car windows rattle in their frames. "You think I want to leave you at some school run by people I have a complicated history with, surrounded by other supernatural children whose abilities I can't control or predict? You think any of this is what I wanted for our family?"
Hope stared back at him with equal fury, her own supernatural nature rising to meet his challenge. "I think you've spent seven years avoiding the hard parts of being a father, and now you're avoiding them again by finding somewhere else to put me!"
"Enough," Hayley said sharply, her werewolf authority cutting through their supernatural standoff with the precision of someone who'd learned to manage both Mikaelson and tribrid tempers. "Both of you. This isn't solving anything."
She looked at Klaus with a mixture of love and exasperation that spoke to decades of complicated history. "Klaus, Hope has a right to be angry. You showing up after seven years to immediately enroll her in boarding school doesn't exactly send a message about wanting to rebuild your relationship."
Then she turned to Hope with the kind of maternal firmness that could stop teenage rebellion in its tracks. "And Hope, your father is trying to do what he thinks is best for you, even if his approach is typically Klaus-like in its complete lack of subtlety or emotional intelligence."
"I have emotional intelligence," Klaus protested.
"You have emotional reaction," Hayley corrected dryly. "There's a difference."
Hope slumped back in her seat, her anger shifting to something more resigned and hurt. "I just... I thought when the Hollow was finally gone, we could be a real family. I thought maybe we could live in the same city, have dinner together, argue about normal things like curfew and homework instead of cosmic entities and supernatural politics."
Klaus's expression softened, the fury draining out of him to be replaced by something infinitely more painful. "Hope, love, you have no idea how much I want that. But the world isn't safe—not for you, not with who you are and what you represent. At this school, you'll be surrounded by people who understand what it's like to be different, to have abilities that set you apart."
"People like me?" Hope asked, her voice carrying a vulnerability that made both parents' hearts clench.
"People like you," Klaus confirmed gently. "And maybe... maybe people who are even more unique than you are. Dr. Saltzman mentioned that they're expecting some rather extraordinary new students this semester."
Hayley raised an eyebrow. "More extraordinary than a tribrid?"
"Apparently so," Klaus replied with growing interest, his expression shifting toward the kind of predatory curiosity that usually meant someone was about to have a very educational experience. "He was rather mysterious about the details, but he seemed to think Hope would find them... challenging."
Hope straightened in her seat, her supernatural instincts picking up on the change in her father's tone. "Challenging how?"
"I suppose we'll find out," Klaus said, starting the engine again with renewed purpose. "But Hope... whatever happens at this school, whatever new friends or enemies you make, remember that you're a Mikaelson. We don't back down from challenges, and we don't let anyone make us feel ashamed of what we are."
"Even if what we are is complicated?" Hope asked quietly.
Klaus met her eyes in the rearview mirror, his expression growing fierce with paternal pride. "Especially if what we are is complicated, little wolf. Complicated is just another word for interesting, and Mikaelsons have never been boring."
---
The Salvatore School for the Young and Gifted rose from the Virginia countryside like something out of a gothic novel, all stone facades and arched windows that seemed to watch the approaching visitors with ancient, knowing eyes. The main building was an elegant testament to old-world architecture, while the newer additions spoke to practical necessities and modern educational requirements.
Klaus pulled the SUV through the ornate iron gates with their scrolling metalwork spelling out the school's name in elegant script, noting the discrete magical wards that hummed with protective energy. The driveway curved through carefully maintained grounds where students were visible in the distance, some engaged in what looked like perfectly normal outdoor activities, others doing things that definitely weren't covered in standard educational curricula.
"Well," he observed as he parked near the main entrance, "at least the security measures seem adequate."
Hope was pressed against the window, her earlier sullenness replaced by curiosity as she took in her new environment. "It's bigger than I expected," she admitted. "And... there's something strange about it. The magical signatures don't match what I'd expect from a normal supernatural school."
Hayley looked at her daughter with interest. "Strange how?"
"Layered," Hope said thoughtfully, her tribrid senses parsing information that would be invisible to most supernatural beings. "Like there are multiple different types of magic all working together, but they shouldn't be compatible. It's like... like someone took several different magical systems and made them cooperate."
Klaus's eyebrows rose with genuine intrigue. "That does sound rather advanced. Most supernatural institutions stick to one magical tradition—mixing systems usually results in catastrophic failure."
Before Hope could respond to this observation, the school's main doors opened to reveal two figures approaching with the kind of purposeful stride that suggested they were expecting this particular arrival.
Dr. Alaric Saltzman looked exactly like Hope had expected from Klaus's description—tall, solid, with the bearing of someone who'd seen too much supernatural chaos and developed excellent crisis management instincts as a survival mechanism. His dark hair showed premature streaks of silver, and his eyes held the kind of patient wariness that came from years of dealing with supernatural teenagers and their equally supernatural problems.
Beside him walked Caroline Forbes, and Hope felt her supernatural instincts immediately recognize both the vampire nature and the underlying steel that made this woman someone to be taken very seriously indeed. Blonde hair, perfect features, and a smile that managed to be both welcoming and slightly dangerous—classic vampire, but with an edge of authority that suggested she'd earned her position through competence rather than just supernatural abilities.
Klaus stepped out of the SUV with fluid grace, immediately shifting into what Hope privately thought of as his 'public face'—charming, confident, and carrying just enough implied menace to remind everyone that he was Klaus Mikaelson and they would do well to treat his daughter with appropriate respect.
"Dr. Saltzman," he said warmly, extending a hand with the kind of smile that had charmed and terrified people for a thousand years. "Thank you for making time to meet with us. I trust the arrangements for Hope's enrollment are proceeding smoothly?"
"Mr. Mikaelson," Alaric replied, shaking the offered hand with careful politeness, his expression suggesting he was very aware of exactly who he was dealing with. "Everything's ready for the tour, though I should mention we're waiting for a few other new students to arrive before we begin. I thought it might be beneficial for everyone to meet simultaneously."
Klaus's eyes sharpened with interest. "The rather extraordinary students you mentioned during our phone conversation?"
"Among others," Alaric confirmed with diplomatic precision, his tone suggesting there were layers to this situation that he wasn't quite ready to reveal. "Though I think 'extraordinary' might be understating things somewhat."
Caroline stepped forward with that bright vampire smile that managed to be both genuine and slightly predatory. "Klaus, it's been far too long. You look good—for someone who's been hiding from his family responsibilities for seven years."
The greeting carried just enough edge to remind Klaus that Caroline Forbes had never been particularly impressed by his legendary charm, supernatural power, or tendency to solve problems through creative violence. She'd always treated him like what he was—a supernatural being with significant power and significant issues who needed to be managed rather than feared.
"Caroline," Klaus replied with genuine warmth despite the barb, his expression shifting to something more authentically pleased. "Still as diplomatically subtle as ever, I see. Though I have to say, running a school for supernatural teenagers suits you. You always did have a talent for managing chaos."
"Plenty of practice," Caroline shot back with obvious amusement, then looked past him toward the SUV where Hayley was helping Hope out of the backseat. "And you must be Hope. I've heard so much about you."
Hope stepped forward with the kind of careful grace that spoke to excellent training in supernatural politics, though her expression remained guarded. At fourteen, she already showed signs of becoming a devastating beauty, but right now she looked more like a teenager trying to figure out where she fit in a complicated adult world.
"Ms. Forbes," she said politely, extending a hand with Mikaelson courtesy despite her earlier sullenness. "Thank you for accepting my enrollment. I hope I won't be too much trouble for your school."
Caroline's smile widened with genuine approval. "Oh, sweetheart, if we can handle students who accidentally blow up chemistry labs when they sneeze, I think we can manage whatever unique challenges you bring to campus."
"Chemistry labs?" Hope asked, her curiosity overriding her wariness.
"Fairy-werewolf hybrid," Alaric explained with the weary tone of someone who'd filed that particular incident report. "Perfectly lovely girl, but her magical control is... developing. We've learned to keep fire suppressors in every classroom."
Klaus looked around the campus with growing assessment, his supernatural senses taking in layers of magical protection, physical security, and the general atmosphere of the place. "Dr. Saltzman, I have to say, the security arrangements seem quite thorough. Though I'm curious about the magical signatures Hope mentioned—there seem to be multiple traditions working in harmony here."
"Necessity," Alaric replied, his voice taking on a note of professional pride. "When you have students from dozens of different supernatural backgrounds, you learn to adapt. We've had to develop some rather creative solutions to integration challenges."
Before Klaus could pursue this intriguing line of inquiry further, the sound of multiple engines approaching drew everyone's attention to the school's main drive. A small convoy of vehicles was making its way through the gates—elegant cars that spoke to both good taste and significant financial resources.
The lead vehicle was a sleek black sedan that moved with the kind of mechanical precision that suggested supernatural enhancement or just extremely good engineering. Behind it came a silver SUV and what looked like a vintage Jaguar that had been lovingly maintained to museum quality.
"That would be our other new students," Caroline announced with obvious interest, her vampire senses already analyzing the approaching vehicles and their occupants. "Though I have to say, they certainly know how to make an entrance."
Klaus's supernatural instincts were immediately alert, picking up magical signatures that were unlike anything in his considerable experience. There was power in those approaching cars—significant power, but layered and complex in ways that suggested training, discipline, and origins he couldn't immediately identify.
"Extraordinary students," he said thoughtfully, his voice carrying the kind of predatory interest that usually meant someone was about to become either a valuable ally or a fascinating enemy. "This should be interesting."
Hope moved closer to her father's side, her own supernatural senses parsing information that was both intriguing and slightly overwhelming. "There's something strange about them," she said quietly, her voice carrying the kind of uncertainty that was rare for a Mikaelson. "The magical signatures are... different. Familiar somehow, but wrong."
"Wrong how?" Klaus asked, his attention immediately focusing on his daughter with the kind of protective intensity that had kept her safe through fourteen years of supernatural politics.
"Like they're from somewhere else," Hope replied, her supernatural intuition grappling with concepts that didn't quite fit into normal categories. "Not just another place, but... another *where*. Does that make sense?"
Before Klaus could respond to this cryptic observation, the convoy pulled to a stop near the main entrance. The doors opened simultaneously, and out stepped what was clearly an organized group of adults and teenagers who moved with the kind of coordinated precision that spoke to years of experience dealing with situations that required both caution and presentation.
From the lead sedan emerged a woman with striking red hair and emerald eyes, wearing an elegant dress that managed to be both professionally appropriate and subtly expensive. She moved with the kind of confident grace that suggested she was comfortable in social situations while remaining alert to potential threats—a combination that immediately caught Klaus's attention.
"Lily Evans," she introduced herself with a warm smile, extending a hand to Alaric with the kind of professional courtesy that suggested years of experience in delicate negotiations. "Thank you for agreeing to meet with us on such short notice. I hope we're not too late for the tour."
Behind her came a tall man with aristocratic features and prematurely gray hair that caught the afternoon light like silver, wearing an expensive suit with the kind of casual elegance that spoke to both good breeding and significant personal style. When he moved, it was with the fluid grace of someone trained in combat but comfortable in civilized settings.
"Sirius Black," he said, his voice carrying a cultured British accent that made Klaus's eyes narrow with recognition of social status if not specific identity. "And may I say, Dr. Saltzman, you've built something quite remarkable here. The magical architecture alone is impressive."
From the SUV came a couple who moved with the kind of professional coordination that suggested law enforcement background—the man tall and solid with the bearing of someone accustomed to command, the woman small and fierce with the kind of alert competence that Klaus immediately recognized as formidable.
"Frank and Alice Longbottom," the man introduced them both, his voice carrying the kind of steady authority that came from years of leadership in high-stress situations. "We appreciate you taking the time to meet with all of us together."
The final vehicle disgorged what was clearly the most interesting occupant—a woman with dark hair and aristocratic bearing who moved with the kind of unconscious elegance that spoke to generations of breeding, wearing clothes that probably cost more than most people's cars and somehow making it look effortless rather than ostentatious.
"Amelia Bones," she said crisply, her voice carrying the kind of professional authority that made Klaus's supernatural instincts sit up and take immediate notice. "Detective with LAPD, though I suspect my background is somewhat more... varied... than most law enforcement professionals you've encountered."
But it was the teenagers who really caught Hope's attention.
They emerged from the vehicles with the kind of casual coordination that spoke to years of moving together as a group, but each of them radiated power in ways that made Hope's supernatural senses practically vibrate with recognition and challenge.
The first was clearly the leader—tall for fifteen, with impossibly messy black hair that caught the light and warm emerald green eyes that seemed to take in everything while missing nothing. He moved with unconscious grace that wasn't quite human, and when he smiled at something one of the adults said, Hope felt her breath catch in a way that had nothing to do with supernatural recognition and everything to do with the fact that he was probably the most striking boy she'd ever seen.
The second was broader, more solidly built, with the kind of steady competence that suggested he was the one who kept the group grounded when the first one's obvious charisma led them into interesting trouble. His sandy hair fell across intelligent brown eyes, and there was something about the way he carried himself that suggested significant power held under careful control.
The third was clearly the voice of reason—a girl with strawberry blonde hair and sharp green eyes that missed absolutely nothing, wearing clothes that suggested both good taste and practical sensibilities. She was already assessing the school, the adults, and Hope herself with the kind of analytical attention that spoke to excellent training in evaluation and risk assessment.
"And these," Lily said with obvious maternal pride, "are our children. Harry Potter, Neville Longbottom, and Susan Bones."
Klaus felt something shift in the cosmic balance around him as the boy—Harry—looked up and met his eyes directly. There was no deference in that gaze, no intimidation, no recognition of Klaus's legendary reputation or supernatural status. Just calm assessment from someone who was clearly comfortable with their own power and unimpressed by displays of authority.
"Mr. Mikaelson," Harry said with polite courtesy, extending a hand with the kind of confident grace that spoke to excellent upbringing and complete self-assurance. "I've heard quite a lot about you. It's interesting to finally meet the famous Klaus Mikaelson in person."
Klaus shook the offered hand, noting immediately that the boy's grip was warm, firm, and carried undertones of power that made Klaus's supernatural instincts sharpen with recognition of something significant.
"Harry Potter," he replied thoughtfully, his voice carrying the kind of careful assessment that usually preceded either alliance or conflict. "And I have to say, you're not quite what I expected."
Harry's smile was bright and completely unrepentant. "I get that a lot, actually. Though I'm curious what you were expecting, given that we've never met and you presumably know nothing about me beyond whatever Dr. Saltzman might have mentioned."
The challenge was subtle but unmistakable, delivered with the kind of polite confidence that made it clear this teenager was not going to be intimidated by reputation, supernatural power, or anything else Klaus might bring to bear.
Behind Harry, Neville stepped forward with a slight smile and the kind of steady presence that suggested he was well accustomed to his friend's tendency to immediately establish dominance in new social situations.
"Neville Longbottom," he said, shaking Klaus's hand with equal confidence. "And before you ask, yes, we're all aware of your reputation. No, we're not particularly impressed by it. And yes, this is going to be an interesting semester."
Susan sighed with obvious exasperation. "What they mean to say," she said, moving forward with the kind of diplomatic precision that suggested years of practice managing the other two, "is that we're pleased to meet you, we're looking forward to attending school with your daughter, and we hope everyone can manage to be civilized despite the obvious potential for supernatural politics and teenage drama."
She extended her hand with professional courtesy. "Susan Bones. And I should probably mention that I'm the one who keeps these two from accidentally starting international incidents, so if you have any concerns about their behavior, you can address them to me."
Klaus found himself genuinely impressed despite himself. These children—because despite their obvious power and training, they were still just teenagers—had managed to establish themselves as formidable individuals while remaining appropriately respectful. It was the kind of social maneuvering that he'd expect from supernatural beings with decades of political experience, not fifteen-year-olds meeting him for the first time.
"Well," he said, his voice carrying genuine approval, "I can see why Dr. Saltzman described you as extraordinary. Though I have to ask—what exactly makes you so confident that you're not impressed by my reputation?"
The question was asked with curiosity rather than threat, but it carried enough edge to remind everyone that Klaus Mikaelson was not accustomed to being dismissed by anyone, let alone supernatural teenagers.
Harry's grin widened, and for just an instant, Klaus caught a glimpse of something that made his ancient supernatural instincts rear up in recognition of power that was both familiar and completely alien.
"Well," Harry said with that bright, unrepentant smile, "let's just say that my guardian has a rather impressive reputation of his own, and he's taught me that power is only as important as what you do with it. From what I understand, you've spent the last thousand years making impressive enemies and struggling with family drama that would make soap opera writers weep with envy."
Klaus stared at him, feeling something that might have been admiration or might have been the urge to throttle this remarkably confident teenager.
"And what exactly do you do with your power, Mr. Potter?" he asked, his voice carrying the kind of dangerous curiosity that usually preceded either alliance or creative violence.
"Whatever needs doing," Harry replied simply, his voice carrying the kind of quiet certainty that spoke to absolute confidence in his own capabilities. "Help people who need helping, protect people who need protecting, and occasionally revolutionize broken systems when they get in the way of people living their best lives."
"Revolutionize broken systems," Klaus repeated thoughtfully.
"It's a hobby," Neville added helpfully. "Last year he convinced a supernatural court system to completely restructure their sentencing guidelines by proving that most of their judges were taking bribes and their enforcement mechanisms were fundamentally unjust."
"The year before that, he helped organize a diplomatic summit between three different supernatural species who'd been at war for sixty years," Susan continued with obvious pride despite her exasperation. "Turned out they were fighting over a misunderstanding about territorial boundaries that could have been resolved in a single afternoon if anyone had bothered to actually communicate."
Klaus looked between the three teenagers, then at Hope, who was staring at Harry with the kind of fascinated attention that usually meant a Mikaelson had found either their perfect match or their greatest challenge.
"I see," he said slowly, his voice carrying growing interest and what might have been respect. "And I suppose your guardian taught you these... revolutionary... techniques?"
"Among other things," Harry confirmed cheerfully. "Though most of it comes down to paying attention to what people actually need instead of what you think they should want, and then finding creative ways to make sure they get it."
"Creative ways," Klaus mused, his supernatural instincts recognizing both threat and opportunity in equal measure.
"Very creative," Hope said suddenly, speaking for the first time since the newcomers had arrived. Her voice carried the kind of fascinated curiosity that Klaus knew from experience meant his daughter had found something that challenged her in ways she wasn't accustomed to being challenged.
Harry turned his attention to her with genuine interest, his hazel eyes warm with the kind of automatic friendliness that seemed to be his default setting with new people.
"Hope Mikaelson," he said with obvious recognition, though whether that recognition came from research, supernatural senses, or something else entirely wasn't immediately clear. "The famous tribrid. It's a pleasure to meet you. I have to say, your magical signature is absolutely fascinating."
Hope blinked, clearly not having expected this particular opening gambit. "My magical signature?"
"Layered complexity with excellent integration," Harry replied with the kind of technical appreciation that suggested both extensive training and natural talent. "Witch, werewolf, and vampire all working in perfect harmony instead of fighting each other for dominance. It's really quite impressive from a magical theory standpoint."
"You can analyze supernatural signatures that precisely?" Hope asked, her voice carrying growing respect and what might have been professional curiosity.
"It's a useful skill," Harry said with a slight shrug, as if the ability to perform magical analysis that would challenge most supernatural experts was no more remarkable than being good at math. "Though I have to say, yours is more sophisticated than most. Whoever helped you integrate your different natures did excellent work."
Hope straightened with pride. "My family has had considerable practice with managing complicated supernatural inheritances."
"I imagine they have," Harry replied warmly. "The Mikaelson family's reputation for both power and complexity is well-documented. Though I have to say, meeting you makes me think the documentation probably undersells both the power and the complexity."
Klaus found himself studying this exchange with growing fascination. His daughter—who had never shown particular interest in anyone her own age, supernatural or otherwise—was practically glowing with attention and engagement. And this Harry Potter boy was managing to be both respectful and challenging, impressed but not intimidated, appreciative without being obsequious.
It was exactly the kind of social maneuvering that Klaus himself had spent centuries perfecting, but this boy was fifteen years old and making it look effortless.
"Right then," Alaric said, clearly deciding that the introductions had reached a natural breaking point and it was time to move things along before the supernatural power dynamics got too interesting, "shall we begin the tour? I think you'll all find the facilities quite impressive, and there are several areas I'd particularly like Hope and the others to see."
As the group began moving toward the school's main entrance, Klaus found himself walking beside Lily Evans, while Hope naturally gravitated toward the three newcomers with the kind of immediate connection that suggested she'd found her social equals for the first time in her life.
"Your son is quite remarkable," Klaus observed quietly, his voice carrying genuine appreciation rather than threat. "Both in terms of power and social capabilities. You should be very proud."
Lily's smile was warm with maternal affection and what might have been warning. "Harry's had an unusual upbringing, Mr. Mikaelson. He's learned to see the world in ways that most people—supernatural or otherwise—don't expect. It makes him either very easy to underestimate or impossible to intimidate."
"And which category would you say I fall into?" Klaus asked with genuine curiosity.
"Neither," Lily replied with a slight laugh. "I think you're exactly the kind of person who would appreciate Harry for what he is rather than what you expected him to be. And I think Harry recognizes that, which is why he's being straightforward with you instead of polite."
Klaus considered this as they entered the school's main hall, watching Hope animatedly discussing something with Harry while Neville and Susan contributed their own observations to the conversation.
Whatever else this semester brought, it was clearly going to be anything but boring.
And Klaus Mikaelson had always preferred interesting to predictable.
---
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