Author's Note: This is a joint story, written by myself and DaOneInDaCorner. We have carefully planned out every detail and hope you'll have as much fun reading as we will writing. Enjoy!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K Rowling. Thanks

CHAPTER 1: RUNNING IN CIRCLES

Though he had been in the massive, candlelit Great Hall thousands of times before, never had he been so nervous in his entire life to walk along the aisle between the four house tables. Or so embarrassed, for that matter. And still, as he halted before the stool atop which sat an old wizard's hat, he could feel all eyes in the room on him. He made a point to keep his hands in his pockets so as to hide the fact that they were shaking and forbid his eyes from wandering to the various people that were seated at the staff table in front of him. He could feel a pair of clear blue eyes watching him intently from behind half-moon spectacles, but wouldn't dare meet them with his own.

As he stood amidst a small crowd of miniature first-year students, he waited impatiently for his name to finally be called up. This was so not the way he'd hoped to make a first impression. He could almost hear the thoughts of those who'd soon be his fellow classmates.

"What a git!" they'd cry, howling with laughter as they watched a random sixth year get his sorting with a sea of munchkins.

Sweat poured from his forehead but he kept his composure and watched Professor McGonagall go down the list of students. The sorting seemed to be taking forever—he couldn't recall it ever being this long—and so the Great Hall soon filled with the quiet but definitive whispers of the student chatter. Good, he thought, less eyes on him. He fought very hard not to give in to curiosity and look over at the Slytherin table where he would surely see a teenage version of his favourite professor at Hogwarts. Though he knew it was impossible for anyone to know him here, he was still not used to it. He kept expecting someone to finally recognise him, turn around and call—

"Draco Black," said Professor McGonagall.

The hall instantly silenced.

Willing himself not to turn a scarlet red, Draco felt his feet move him forwards, up the steps and onto the stool. Professor McGonagall gave him a sympathetic smile before dropping the hat onto his head. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Ah, Draco Black…Black…hmm… you're a Black?" Draco took another deep breath. He'd had an inkling that something like this would happen once he put the hat on. "I've had many Blacks put me on and I'll tell you, you don't feel like them one bit. Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure," Draco muttered.

"Funny thing," said the Hat. "I see Malfoy when I sit atop your head. Oh yes, I definitely see Malfoy. How interesting. You were previously sorted into Slytherin, I see. Just like your mother and father—oh, I do believe they graduated not long ago…"

"Just get on with it," said Draco, through gritted teeth.

It was humiliating enough to be doing this in front of the whole school, but to be probably the only sixth-year in wizarding history to receive his sorting this late…

"Oh, but you fascinate me so much!" the Hat went on. "Draco Black, you do strike me as an odd sort…I sense a strange courage within you, to do the things you fear most of doing. Oh yes, it's definitely there. But you also have clever ways of keeping it from the surface. You definitely exhibit the sneakiness of your forefather. But where to put you?"

"Just get on with it," Draco muttered again.

At this point, he didn't really care if it was something as lame as Hufflepuff—he'd take anything to be freed from the humiliation already!

"Oh but Hufflepuff is most certainly not lame!" cried the Hat, reminding him that it could hear his exact thoughts. "Each of the Hogwarts houses has its uses. Hmm, given that you contain the characteristic traits associated with two houses, and given that you've already been sorted into one of these houses before…" Draco sighed. He knew this would happen. How could it not? He felt silly to have hoped for something else… Though, even he had no idea what he'd hoped for.

"Might be fun, given the Black family history…" the Hat continued. It was of course going to go with its original decision. It was the Sorting Hat after all! It was never mistaken. Well, thought Draco, at least he'd be there with Snape.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The table to the far right exploded with cheering and applause as Professor McGonagall took the hat from Draco's head and nodded in the direction of the Gryffindor table. Draco stumbled off of the stool, looked sideways at the Slytherin table—where the majority of the students were sneering at him—and slowly made his way over to the table on the far right. He took the only seat left, ignored the fact that everyone surrounding him was staring at him wide-eyed, and watched as Professor Dumbledore got to his feet. He smiled at the students and waved his hands in the air. The four house tables suddenly coloured with loads of food and the student chatter resumed.

"W-welcome to Gryffindor," said a boney boy sitting across Draco but a little to the left.

"Uh thanks," said Draco, quickly.

He concentrated hard on filling his plate with loads of food so that he wouldn't think about how alarmingly familiar the boy seated directly across from him looked—an exact clone of his greatest school nemesis. Well, this was just bloody perfect.

"My name is Remus Lupin," said the boney boy again.

Draco's head snapped up. Lupin! Lupin! Wow, he hadn't recognised him! He really looked different. For one, there were far less scratches on his face. He did look ghostly white, as though he'd just undergone a cycle in fact. Draco smiled weakly, but couldn't seem to turn his head back to his food. It was so weird seeing a younger form of one of his previous teachers.

"I'm a prefect," Lupin continued. "It means student leader."

"Yeah, I know what it means," Draco heard himself say.

This was extremely surreal.

The boy sitting across from him was still staring at him through narrowed eyes, though Draco was determined not to meet them. The kid next to him however, leaned forwards suddenly, catching Draco's attention.

"Uh, hi there," he said, blowing a strand of his curly black hair out of his face and frowning. "Who the hell are you and why have we never met?"

It was Draco's turn to frown.

"I'm sorry?" he said.

"I'm Sirius Black," said the boy, pointing to himself. "Who the hell are you?"

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. Well how the hell was he supposed to answer this?

"I think you've got one too many cousins there, Padfoot," said the boy across from him, folding his arms across his chest.

Draco finally looked up at him. Yep. There he was, Harry Potter's father—a perfect clone of him in teenage form, minus the stupid circular glasses. Oh, and the scar of course. He grinned at Draco.

"What's the matter, Black? Lost your appetite?"

Draco looked down at his knife and fork and untouched plate. He said nothing and began to cut up his food, feeling eyes still on him.

"I think it's only four on my mother's side," Sirius Black was saying to himself, his fingers stretched out before him as he counted. "Surely I haven't missed one…"

"I'm telling you, Sirius," said James Potter, reaching for an apple and taking a bite. "Your family is so big you can't even keep track of yourselves!"

"Come off it, James!" said Sirius. "I think I'd know if I had another cousin out there. Oy, Draco."

Draco looked up, as though he hadn't overheard their conversation.

"Who're your parents?"

Draco's eyes fell on Potter, then Lupin, and then Black again.

"Um," he said, putting down his knife and fork and taking deep breaths, "I don't know."

"Sorry?" said Potter.

"I…I was brought up in a muggle orphanage," Draco recited, exactly as he'd practiced. "Headmaster Dumbledore has acted as a sort of caregiver for me my whole life, tutoring me and such. And now I've decided to finally attend his school."

"Why now?" said Potter.

"Headmaster Dumbledore?" cried Sirius. "No one calls him that!"

"He's my kind of kid, Sirius!" said Lupin, grinning broadly at Draco.

"What's an orphanage?" asked a scrawny boy who was sitting on Lupin's other side.

Both Potter and Black smacked their heads in frustration.

"How thick are you, Pete?!" they cried, but Lupin gave the boy a sympathetic smile and delved right into an explanation.

Ignoring them, Potter and Black turned back to Draco.

"So Dumbledore basically raised you then," said Potter. Draco nodded slightly. "That's like…being raised by Godric Gryffindor himself."

"Wicked," said Black.

"But then you must know all sorts of really advanced magic," said Potter again, looking at Draco hopefully.

"Sure," said Draco, shrugging.

"Wicked," said Potter and Black together.

They really reminded Draco of those Weasley twins, always finishing each other's sentences or making the exact same gestures. Strange.

"So you're a Black," said Potter, slowly, "But you were brought up in a muggle orphanage…but you know you're a Black…"

"Very good, Jamesy," said Black, in a mocking sort of tone. "You're learning quickly."

"Oh shut up, Sirius," said Potter, punching him on the shoulder playfully. Black smirked. "So Draco, how is it that you know you're a Black?"

"I was named upon being dropped off there," Draco recited, as practiced. "I was left on the doorstep with a note that said my name and birthday."

"Hmm, tis strange," said Potter, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

"I'm sure my mother will be fascinated to hear all this in my next letter," said Black, mostly to himself.

Draco smiled weakly again and returned to his food. This was too weird. Too weird. As he tried to make it through his first round of steak, he tried to block out the conversations between Potter and Black, wherein they discussed exactly which of Sirius' relatives Draco could possibly look like, ultimately concluding that he looked nothing like the Blacks. At one point, Draco glanced sideways, and all the Gryffindor students on his right immediately turned their heads away from him and resumed their conversations. One student however, did not. Her vibrant red hair flowed down in a perfect braid as she met Draco's eyes and smiled brightly at him from several seats over. He gulped nervously and looked away. Creep.

"…Sirius, I'm telling you, that's the only logical explanation!" said Potter, tossing his apple core onto his plate and folding his arms again.

"Get serious, James!" cried Black. "He is not a descendant of Kreacher!"

At this, Lupin choked on his pumpkin juice and the scrawny boy next to him patted him on the back several times. Potter sniggered.

"Who is Kreacher?" Draco dared ask.

"Our house elf," Black said, lazily. He suddenly leaned forwards again, examining Draco's features. "So like, were you always blond-haired? Or did you bleach it? Apparently, it's a common muggle trick…bleaching hair."

"We should totally bleach our hair!" cried Potter, suddenly.

"Oh, a nice bright orange for McGonagall's birthday!" said Black, smirking at him.

"Come on, Padfoot, don't you think I'd look dashing in a good purple?" said Potter, running his hand through his black hair.

"Only if you coloured your eyebrows too!" laughed Black.

"Will you two get serious for at least a minute?!" cried Lupin, suddenly.

The boys muttered their apologies to him and exchanged laughs again. Draco stared at them.

"Don't mind them," Lupin told him. "They were born like this. You'll get used to them in no time."

"Right," Draco forced himself to say.

"Well," said Lupin, sighing, "It is good to have you joining us this year. I don't suppose you'll have much catching up to do, given your private tutoring with Professor Dumbledore of all people—but should you have any questions, you just feel free to come to us."

"Yeah, we're the best tutors in the school!" said Potter, grinning at Draco. "You just stick with us and we'll have you fitted in very quickly."

At this, Black suddenly grabbed Potter's arm and lowered his voice.

"Stick with us?" he repeated.

"What?" whispered Potter.

"What d'you mean, 'stick with us'? He can't just…stick with us."

"Oh Sirius, lighten up mate. So the women in your family got around more than a hairless hag…big deal."

"Watch it, Potter!" said Black, darkly.

Draco suppressed a grin. It was surprisingly quite fascinating to watch their exchanges. Harry Potter had turned out to be nothing like his father. From what Draco had seen so far, his father was actually not bad. Witty as a git, but not annoying. In fact, sitting here and watching Potter and Black, Draco was reminded more of the Weasley twins as opposed to their brother and his mate.

When the feast was over and Dumbledore sent the students off to bed, Draco was practically dragged out of his seat by Potter and Black who seemed quite enthusiastic about walking with him. Good, thought Draco. He had no idea how to even get to Gryffindor Tower. In addition, the more they walked and the closer they got there, the more excited Draco felt about finally getting to see what the Gryffindor common room looked like. In all his years at Hogwarts, he'd always wondered. He and Crabbe and Goyle had of course contemplated trying to sneak in and have a look, but didn't fancy any interrogations from McGonagall, or even worse, Dumbledore, so they'd decided against it.

"You'd best be careful when you use the staircases," said Lupin, loudly and clearly. "They like to change."

Draco nodded thoughtfully.

"Oh, and no doubt you will have noticed all these portraits hanging on the walls here—they've been here for ages, see. Be nice to them if you can. It's the…proper Hogwarts thing to do."

Again, Draco nodded. What was he supposed to say? Um thanks, but I've actually been at Hogwarts just a bit longer than you have…in a completely different decade too, but that's a story for another day...

Once they'd reached the tower, Potter gave the password to the infamous Fat Lady and the portrait swung open, revealing a hole through which the boys climbed.

"Welcome to our common room," said Lupin, adopting his introductory voice once again.

Draco looked around. Well, it was certainly a cozy-looking room—round and full of squashy armchairs. There was a warm fireplace in the corner and nice carpeted floors. He could definitely see the appeal in staying up there all day.

"...maybe Kreacher has a cousin too?" Potter was saying, as the boys began to climb a spiral staircase. Draco followed silently, trying to suppress the urge to inspect the foreign room from corner to corner.

"Oh Jamesy," said Black, "Lay off the Kreacher theory, will you?"

"Well Padfoot, you do refuse to admit that your family has gotten around a lot," said Potter, shrugging.

Again, Black hit him playfully. The scrawny boy that was following them giggled. Draco looked sideways at Lupin, who was smiling warmly at him.

"Uh, what's Padfoot?" he asked, quietly.

"Oh that's just Sirius' nickname," Lupin informed him. "We each came up with nicknames back in our first year and they just sort of stuck around."

"…hey what about your cousins from the South?" said Potter, excitedly.

The boys had now reached the top of the stairs and entered a dormitory wherein there were five four-poster beds with deep red, velvet curtains hanging around them.

"I dunno, I have to talk to mother about it," said Black—or Padfoot—as he shrug out of his cloak and began to loosen up his tie.

"This is our dormitory," Lupin told Draco, who nodded swiftly, looking around. "I suppose that'll be your bed, since your things seem to be at the foot of it." Draco frowned down at the trunk. Sure enough the initials D.B were carved in white at the front and there lay a freshly bought Gryffindor Hogwarts uniform on the neatly made bed. Dumbledore had certainly kept true to his word, thought Draco.

"Yeah, we've been using that bed for ages to store snacks and such," Potter said lazily, kicking off his shoes and slumping on the bed nearest the large window. "But I suppose now you can have it."

"Yeah, there aren't any free beds left in the Gryffindor dormitories, are there?" said Black.

"Hey, even if there were, there is no way we're letting him get away!" exclaimed Potter. "It's not every day you meet someone who just so happens to be related to you." He then smirked at Draco. "Especially when they get their sorting in sixth year."

As though on cue, he and Black burst into laughter. Draco even spotted Lupin grinning slightly.

"Yeah," Draco tried to say, but it came out as a sort of grunt.

How was he supposed to talk to these people? He had no idea what they wanted to hear. He really hadn't expected to be sorted into Gryffindor and having to meet this lot. He was not prepared for this at all.

"I thought that all purebloods are related somehow anyways," said the scrawny boy in the corner of the dormitory. He was struggling to pull off his sweater. "At least, that's what I heard Dumbledore say once."

"Rubbish," said Black, slumping on his own bed.

"Oh no it's not," said Lupin, who sat on the bed next to Draco's. "I heard him say it too."

Draco tried to nod in agreement but was too lost in thought to respond. First, he'd found out that he'd gone back in time. Then, he'd explained as much as he could to Dumbledore who'd helped him cook up a story. Next, he'd been sorted into Gryffindor instead of Slytherin, and actually met Harry Potter's father and his school friends. And now, he'd fulfilled one of his lifelong dreams to see the inside of the bloody Gryffindor common room! It had been quite an interesting twenty-four hours, that's for sure.

"Isn't that right, Draco?" said Potter, making him jump suddenly.

"What?" said Draco, blankly.

"Y-you aren't a pureblood supremacist, are you?"

The boys all watched him with incredible fascination, anxiously awaiting his response. He looked around the room again. From what he'd so far gathered, all of them were purebloods, like him. Well, his cover story also meant that he was a pureblood. But unlike the many purebloods whom he'd shared dormitories with back in Slytherin, these boys did not have extreme ideals about blood relations and societal status. In fact, they seemed pretty relaxed about it.

"I guess not," said Draco finally, with a slight shrug. "I haven't really given it much thought before."

"Right, so like us then," said Potter, lazily. He was obviously pleased with the answer as he tossed in his bed and yawned loudly. "I suppose you're in Gryffindor for your bravery to get your sorting with all those first-years."

Black let out a bark of laughter, which Draco tried to smile to but couldn't stop staring.

"Well, g'night," said Potter.

"See ya," said Black, turning in his own bed. Though, before the shadows of the now darkened room crept over his face, Draco caught sight of him looking directly at him with a kind of frown. It was clear that he was still very confused as to how they could be related.

"Goodnight everyone!" said the scrawny boy, happily, and he jumped into his bed and pulled the blankets over himself quite enthusiastically.

Lupin turned to Draco and gestured at the boy.

"That's Peter by the way," he said. "But we call him Wormtail."

Draco nodded.

"And James is Prongs. And…I'm Moony."

"Right," said Draco. "Uh, cool nicknames."

"Yeah," smiled Lupin, looking thoroughly nostalgic.

They sat in silence for the next couple of minutes. Draco's mind kept replaying his conversation with Dumbledore. He'd been so…unlike the Dumbledore he'd previously known...or would later know. It had been exceptionally difficult to talk to him, knowing what had happened between them only years later—Dumbledore standing atop the Astronomy Tower and Draco shakenly pointing his wand at him. But this Dumbledore did not need to know about what happened to that Dumbledore…at least not for now, anyways. In fact, once he'd realised how Draco had gotten here, this Dumbledore requested that Draco not reveal any more information to him about his older self…or his later self. Blimey, it was now starting to mess with his head.

"I hope you weren't too weirded out by James and Sirius," said Lupin, suddenly. "They're just really curious lads. It's nothing personal."

"Oh," said Draco, awkwardly. "Uh yeah it's fine."

He dressed into the fresh pajamas he found in his trunk and crawled up into bed. Lupin dressed next and turned in his bed to face Draco. This was really weird. Draco had only ever really known him in the classroom, and in all those lessons, he'd thought he was weird. His face was always scratched and he dressed in shaggy wizard's robes all the time. But this strange new version of him—this teenage Lupin—was actually quite normal. Pleasant, even. It was all so new to Draco.

"What?" said Lupin, noticing his stare.

"Nothing," said Draco, looking away quickly.

"Okay," said Lupin, slowly. "Well, goodnight then."

"Night," said Draco.

He turned his back on him and looked out at the starry sky in the window. Yep. Definitely not what he'd had in mind when he found out he'd gone back to the fall of 1976. And what's worse, he had no idea what to expect tomorrow. What on earth was this world going to be like? He turned to face the ceiling again and let his eyes slowly close, with Dumbledore's last words to him still ringing in his ears; "I don't doubt you have your reasons of being here, and so I hope you will not let the opportunity to do things different this time slide right by you."

"Don't worry," Draco pictured himself saying, as he slowly dosed off to sleep. "I won't."

Thanks and please review with your thoughts on this first chapter of what will be quite a lengthy story!