Prologue- In Times Now Gone

It was a cold, windy day in November, and Voldemort had disappeared overnight. Naturally, many in the wizarding world were inclined to celebrate, but Albus Dumbledore was too busy. He sat in the St Mungo's lobby, waiting…

"Albus,"

Minerva McGonagall had arrived, and was hurrying towards him, her face lined with worry. She gripped his wrist tightly. "What in Merlin's name has been going on? I've heard all sorts of stories."

"I should think so. What are they saying now?"

"That- that the Longbottoms…" she broke off. "They say they were attacked last night, and that Frank…"

Albus nodded gravely. "I'm afraid so. They caught their secret keeper, forced the truth out of her, then killed her in cold blood." He sighed. "Nobody's really sure what happened, but prior incantato told us that Frank fired the killing curse at Voldemort, in desperation, probably. Perhaps he got lucky."

"But if he-"

"Frank didn't die at the scene. There was an explosion, and he was badly injured."

"How's Alice coping? And Neville? Poor boy, he's only seven."

Albus just shook his head. On a nearby chair, he caught another glimpse of the headline that had been haunting him all morning.

"He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Gone At Last!"

Albus Dumbledore had seen so many students be sorted, their faces often blurred with those of their relatives. This year was no different.

"Abbott, Hannah!"

The girl with blonde pigtails looked ridiculously like her grandmother, and was probably a perfect replica of every female Abbott there had ever been.

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Of course, that much had been obvious. And she wouldn't have to wait long for a companion…

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

The names came and went, but soon a vaguely familiar one stuck out.

"Fiasco, Marc!"

Albus sat upright, surveying the boy who was walking on trembling legs up to the stool. The poor boy had no real choice, considering who his parents were…

"RAVENCLAW!"

Albus felt his eyebrows shoot into his white hair. These were strange times. Perhaps nurture was stronger than nature after all, but then again, Minerva had told him that the boy knew nothing about his past, and even Rubeus had grudgingly admitted that he was a pleasant boy.

"Granger, Hermione!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

This name was unfamiliar. A muggleborn, and then, finally:

"Longbottom, Neville!"

A pale, round faced boy sat on the stool. He was thin, and flinched when the hall filled with whispers. The boy and his mother had become major celebrities a mere five years ago, when Voldemort had managed to track the family down. His father Frank had managed to destroy Voldemort's physical form with an unknown curse, but the resultant explosion gave him terrible injuries, and he had died later in Saint Mungo's.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Relieved, Albus sank once more into his own thoughts, until another familiar name pulled him back.

"Potter, Harry!"

The boy looked so much like his father. Each time Albus saw him, he marvelled over how the boy could look so much like James, but have such perfect replicas of Lily's eyes. The hat's decision was almost instant.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The last people were sorted, and yet another Weasley was added to Gryffindor house. The hat was carried out of the hall to be placed back on its shelf until the next year. He got to his feet to give the usual announcements, beaming at his students.

"Welcome!" he said. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! Before we begin our banquet, I would like to say a few words. And here they are: Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak! Thank you!"

There was scattered laughter and applause at his words. He liked it when he made his students laugh. As he helped himself to food, he watched as the Potter boy began calling to Fiasco across the hall. They were obviously already firm friends.

These were certainly strange times they lived in.