Author's Note: I'd really like to apologize for not replying to PMs. I've been snowed under by unexpected real life issues. Replies will come when I can organize my thoughts better.

This took very little thought, as it was spontaneously inspired by Vixen Uchiha's review on one of BrilliantLady's fics: As a person only gets one sorting where would it put those few the travel back in time and take over the body of their younger self?

As the Sorting Hat flopped down over Harry's eyes, he was met by an ominous silence.

He thought at first the Hat might be taking in all that he had experienced, but as the silence continued for another minute and whispering began to break out around him, he grew concerned. Is something the matter? he thought at last, and was met by a wave of frigid hostility.

Yes, Mr. Potter. This is not at all funny. You are making a mockery of the Sorting.

I am?

Yes. He felt as though the Hat was clearing its nonexistent throat... which would be quite bad, since it was atop his head. Suddenly he hoped it couldn't expel the Sword of Gryffindor on a whim. Not only are you already Sorted, such that a second Sorting is not only unnecessary but forbidden, but you are a seventh-year student - or would be, if you hadn't quit.

D'you mind? he thought dryly, though his heart was beginning to speed up. I was trying to kill a Dark Lord who had taken over the Wizarding -

That is absolutely no excuse for academic delinquency.

What?!

You should be under probation for having been expelled for failure to attend -

Failure to attend?! I quit!

No, you did not. The stern hostility of the Sorting Hat made him involuntarily imagine some sort of McGonagall-Snape lovechild - which was grounds for Scourgifying his cranium if there ever was one. You sent absolutely no notice of your withdrawing from Hogwarts, which means you remained on the rolls until you were kicked off. As such, you must formally re-apply -

This is complete and utter rot! Harry thought furiously, not at all helped by the inquiries as to his well-being that McGonagall had begun to make in the background. I've never even attended Hogwarts in this timeline!

Pity, said the Sorting Hat acerbically. Your body has not. But you have.

And besides, I got my letter -

Really? He had the uncanny sensation of the Sorting Hat rolling its eyes, which would be an impressive feat, when it didn't even have eyes. Think, Mr. Potter. When did you return?

When Hagrid broke down the door of the cottage- Harry stopped.

Precisely, it said smugly. He was taking a letter to the boy who existed up to a split-second before your arrival, who indeed had never attended Hogwarts. You merely accepted it for him, much as your relatives did for prior letters before throwing them in the fireplace. This time, however, the boy in question no longer existed, no further letters were sent out.

Harry's mind was filled with a flurry of obscenities. Vulgarity will get you nowhere, Mr. Potter, the Hat commented.

I'll apply later, he hastily thought. First thing, I swear. Now, if you'll just - er - announce the House to which I apparently already belong, I'll go sit down so you can get on with -

Certainly not, Mr. Potter. You are not a student here. Nor are you a professor. Nor have you received any special authorization from the Headmaster to attend.

I bloody well haven't! That manipulative bastard -

As such, you have no place at this school. Return when you have properly applied.

I can't exactly explain applying as a seventh-year when I've supposedly never been at this school in the first place! Harry thought furiously.

That is your problem, not mine, Mr. Potter, it replied severely. Now, you have a choice. You may stand up and inform the school of your perfidy, then depart until such a time as you have followed the proper procedures to return, or I will do it for you. You have thirty seconds.

I-

Twenty-nine.

"Mr. Potter, are you quite all right?" McGonagall asked loudly, stooping over him; he could feel her shoulder brushing the brim of the Hat. He was a bit too preoccupied to pay attention, though.

His hand fumbled in his pocket for his wand. Could he nonverbally Confound the Hat in time? Oh damn Barty Crouch Jr., for failing to leave instructions on how he'd done it...

Of all the bloody obstacles he'd expected to find on his journey to change the past and set old wrongs right, the Sorting Hat had not been one of them!