Chapter 5. In seven hells, what had he gotten himself into?

„Packed with muggles!" Harry heard and whirled around. He had just been making his way through the mass of people towards one certain platform, when a familiar shrill voice had interrupted his thoughts. And sure enough, there were the Weasleys, Molly asking loudly: „What was the number of the platform again?"

And Harry's blood ran cold.

The woman had gone to Hogwarts for seven years. And had been sending her sons to the same platform how many years now? It simply wasn't possible that she didn't remember. Molly was technically endangering the Statue of Secrecy – the wife of a ministry worker! Well, not that any muggle would have deducted the existance of the wizarding world by something as stupid as a one strangely dressed woman shouting nonexistant number for a train platform, but still the law was a law. And that wasn't the point right now. Harry seethed over the fact that firstly Hagrid hadn't told him about how to get onto the platform (again!) and now Molly Weasley was telling everyone around of how to get onto it. So even his friedships were planned for him beforehand? For this point Harry really shouldn't be upset anymore, discovering how much Dumbledore knew and engineered, and manipulated him. So was Ron meant to be his first friend? Knowing Dumbledore, probably yes. From a Light family, from the Order, friendly, knowing what it was to be poor, so that they can understand each other. And of course Ron would tell the poor little muggle-raised Harry that all the evil wizards were in Slytherin, all the good ones in Gryffindor and that Dumbledore himself was something like a Merlin. The old, wise and good one. And if Harry was with a Weasley, it was sure to fend off any Death Eater's kids who could maybe want to sway Harry's loyalties. Yes, overall a very good manipulation of an naive eleven-year old.

Harry was hurt. He stayed away, looking how all the Weasleys went through the barrier, the twins laughing at something, and it really were twins, not only George like before – the sight of them took Harry's breath away. They just looked so young, carefree and war-free. Ron was also there, in his slightly small and tattered robes, looking so damn childlike and insecure. Not for a one moment did Harry actually think that Ron might be included on the conspiracy of being the one to influence Harry's introduction into the magical world, he was played by Dumbledore as they all were. Ron had been a real friend, well, in the past or future or whenever, but those days were gone now. In the end they sometimes found each other at the same dinners and exchanged stories for good old times' sake, and also met through Hermione, but nothing like the close trusting thing they had had while still kids.

Mrs. Weasley was the the last of the redheads still on the muggle side of the railway station, but after looking around quite a bit with a worried expression, finally also walked through the barrier. Yes, she had obviously been told to help Harry as Hagrid had forgotten to inform him of how to get onto the train. Harry gritted his teeth, and walked through the stone wall couple of minutes later.

The Hogwarts express was like it had always been – red and steaming and surrounded with excited kids and their families. Harry smiled a little, feeling nostalgic, then pointed his wand to the heavy trunk he had been dragging all the way through the station, muttered: „Wingardium leviosa," and got rid of the problem about heaving it onto the train. Actually, using magic wasn't strictly permitted on the train, but newerthless fell into the same category as Hogwart's corridors – you weren't allowed to do magic as long as Filch, his cat or a teacher in a particularly bad mood happened to be watching. And right now it was so good to be able to use his wand again. It was practically purring in his hand as Harry floated his trunk into an empty compartment and sat down.

But this actually rised the question of how much magic Harry knew and how much he actually could know. On one hand he could act as some sort of a prodigy – after all, he was prophesied to be the Dark Lord's equal, and although Voldemort was batting insane, Tom Riddle really had been one of the most brilliant and powerful students in Hogwarts history. On the other hand however, Dumbledore might already have a suspicion about the damn horcrux in his scar, and if Harry came off as too smart, the old man could think that he was possessed or taken totally over by the soul shard. Oh, the wonders of being Harry Potter.

„Sorry, but, ee, is anyone sitting here?"

Harry looked up from his dark musings and found a very young, very round-faced, blushing, stuttering and shy Neville Longbottom. Harry had already forgotten what a mess Nev had been at the beginning, before being replaced by the scarred, but determined boy, who had came to the DOM with Harry and company, unsurped the Carrow's terror during a whole year and pulled the sword of Gryffindor out of the Sorting Hat, only to go on to join the special forces of aurors, negotiators and curse breakers, who were dealing with all the mess that Voldemort left in his wake, like for example the herd of gigants who were suddenly let loose around Hogwarts, and dementors floating over the land and so on. Then recieve a Mastery in Herbology at the tender age of twenty three, also all the way participating avidly in the Wizengamot as a Lord Longbottom. Not to mention the International Duelling Competitions he occasionally took part of.

So Harry smiled to the unbelievably shy version of his future friend and gestured to the seat across from him, „No, come in, I'm Harry by the way. Are you a first year too?"

„N..Neville," Nev stuttered, „N..Neville Longbottom," and stuck out his hand for Harry to shake, which Harry did. Honestly, now that he knew something at all about all the pureblood traditions, he could figure how insulting he had been to Draco back in their first year, plainly refusing to shake the other's hand, as in social standing, Draco had been something like an equal to Harry. It was the same as screaming: „I think I'm better than your. And more powerful. And probably arrogant, and I think you are no-good idiot, whose place is far below me. So much, that I don't even want to shake your hand." And although Draco had been right prat back then, he still was the heir to the Malfoy name and fortune. Even Ron had known the implications back then and supposedly found it unbelievably funny. Harry just had been ignorant. And rather pissed off, when he was finally found out about those things. Like seventeen years too late.

Well then, now he had a second chance to not insult peole unknowingly. He could now do it, knowing all the consequences. Harry smiled to the shy Neville and started a conversation about Hogwarts, asking Nev about what classes seemed the most intresting and told him some useful facts that he had supposedly read from „Hogwarts, a history", but in reality had heard his Hermione mention over the years. Like about the number of moving staircases and traditional five dessert choices in Sundays, to bring Neville a little out of his shy shell.

„Have you seen Harry Potter?" someone asked from the doorway just when they had started to discuss different Houses, making Harry and Neville both turn to look at the newly arrived gangly and red-headed Ronald Weasley. Harry was sure that he would have had some smart answer, but he was just busy gaping at this small Ron and somehow being so very sad. Because suddenly it hit Harry that this Ron here wouldn't never know anything about Harry, anything about their mutual past or the crazy adventures. And even if they grew up together again, this wasn't his Ron. And Neville wasn't his Nev. And Hermione not his Mione. And they never would be. It was like his old friends and aquantances were all dead. Harry felt so damn down and miserable all of a sudden, and that was the only reason, why he didn't have a quick come-back, when Nev looked uncertainly back at him, probably made a connection with his first name since Harry hadn't told him his last, and asked with a shaking voice: „Harry?"

„You are Harry Potter?" bellowed Ron, always the one without any tact. And second time in a row Harry's replay was cut short by an eleven year old, when a sleek blonde head appeared opposite Ron's side of the door.

„Harry Potter, did you say?" he drawled with a sneer, and spat in Ron's direction: „Weasley!"

„Malfoy! You get out of here!"

„Or what Weasel? Gonna curse me?"

Ron glowered.

„Now did you lose your tongue, Weasel?"

„Shut up you prat!" Ron bellowed and pulled out his old wand, the unicorn hair slightly sticking out from the top.

Harry just couldn't believe it. In less than two seconds he was in the middle of a full blown Weasley-Malfoy argument all over again. He usually hadn't intervened in the future, as he himself had made his peace with Malfoy, and still got on with Ron at some level, but whereever Draco and Ron had been in the vicinity of each other, the insults had started to flow – even some ten years after school. Still, it hadn't usually gotten into drawing wands and cursing the other for some time. But after all, they had supposedly been grown up then.

And Harry was used to just turning a blind eye. Now however he wasn't to know it yet, and in a bored voice asked, just when both boys had opened their mouths to yell something: „Is there actually a legitimate reason for the fight?"

„Yes!" they chorused, then turned to glare at each other.

„He's a Malfoy! His family was the supporter of You-know-who!"

„You dare! Muggle-lovers and blood-traitors, the lot of you, Weasels!"

„Don't you insult my family!"

„Oh Merlin," Harry muttered. He was pretty sure that neither of the eleven-year old prats were hiding any useful or really harmful duelling skills, but the whole situation was just ridiculus. He whispered a mild protego around himself an stepped between the two going-to-be-arch-enemies. Firstly turning his back to Malfoy and glaring at Ron. „Weasley," he said calmly, „look around, a lot of people are watching already. Do you really want to get into trouble for fighting before we even reach the school? How about moving this to, lets say, to the next week?" Ron only glared at Harry, now seemimgly mad at him. Oh Merlin. So Harry just spun on his heel and turned around. „And Malfoy, I thought you wanted to be in Slytherin. As in the house of sly and cunning. Not duelling in corridors like some rash Gryffindor?"

„Don't call me that!"

„Think, Malfoy!" Harry glowered, his patience with eleven-year olds wavering. Where the hell were the perfects when you needed one? „Is this a Slytherin behaviour?"

He was trying to be reasonable here, and apply to the points the two of them would actually listen to, but apparantly no such luck. Ron really had been thick-headed back then it seemed.

„And what do you know?" he now rounded on Harry, „Siding with a Malfoy!" his voice sounding so mean and disgusted with Harry, that it made him recoil. This wasn't his Ron at all.

„No," Harry's voice was calm and quiet in contrst to the other's, „I'm trying to break up this pointless argument."

„You…" but he was cut off, as finally someone had heard of the fight.

„Ron! What are you doing, not fighting in the corridors, are you?" came the pompous voice of Percy Weasley.

„But Malfoy!" Ron started to accuse, glaring daggers at Draco. But the blond at least had some sense it seemed. Draco had managed inconspicuously hide his wand and adopt his bored pureblood mask. So now it looked like Ron was pointing his wand angrily at the other's direction as Malfoy only stood there.

„You haven't even gotten to the castle yet…" Percy was lecturing on and on, but with well practised easy Harry turned him out, and slipped back into his compartment when the whole attention turned away from him and onto Ron. Really he felt a little bad for Ron getting all the blame as Malfoy just smirked there, but he also was unused to such a hostility from Ron to his own person, and felt a little hurt. And seriously, he had been in the middle of way too many Weasley-Malfoy arguments to last him several lifetimes.

So Harry flopped himself back onto his previous seat rather grumpily, now thinking of how awfully his first meeting with Ron had gone. Really he had had a plan to become friends again, or at least get on reasonably well considering the good chance that they again ended up in the same dorm for seven years. And now he could see how he could have won over Ron's favour instantly, had he stepped into the idiotic argument and taken Ron's side. But in the future Harry usually just ignored the arguments, or if in a very bad mood, went off to the both of them. So it would have been just so wrong to favour one of the idiots over the other. And it wasn't like he particularly agreed with Ron's view of the world.

Harry looked up from his musings, finding Neville with a very uncertain and strained face, staring at him. When he caught Harry's glance however, he promptly turned scarlet and looked out of the window. Harry sighed mentally. „What is it, Neville?" he asked gently.

There was a pause when Neville turned to look back at Harry, blushed again and then muttered quickly: „You are really Harry Potter?"

„Yes, I'am," he answered rather resignedly, „but I'd prefer only Harry."

He paused a moment, thinking how to get rid of the incredulous stare Neville was now giving him, „Honestly, I'm famous for something that happened when I was a baby, something I hardly remember. You know, I grew up with muggles," Neville's eyes went even wider now, „and they didn't even tell me about how my parents died. I didn't know anything about Voldemort," here Neville jumped and let out an audile whimper. Merlin, Harry thought, he had forgotten not to mention the name. Well, he could just use it to make a point now, „You see," he exclaimed, „I don't even now that I'm not supposed to say his name. So literally about a month ago Hagrid didn't only tell me that I'm a wizard, but also the part of how famous I were. So, I'm not used to all the staring and looking at me, like I'm some kind of celebrity."

Neville was still staring.

„You could just think of me as Harry," he added, „nothing special or anything."

„You aren't joking?" Neville finally whispered, and Harry gave him a lopsided smile. „No," he sighed, „I'm afraid not. But," he added, „I've been reading a lot about everything magical during the last month." Well, he didn't want to play too dumb. Keeping the additional eighteen or so years of knowledge hidden was quite enough, without adding anything. He could just act a Hermione, he supposed, mildly amused.

After the big revealution Neville seemed even more akward, but Harry pretended not to notice and pulled the other into a game of exploding snap. They had just started, when someone choose to interrupt again. Draco Malfoy stood in the doorway, lacking his bodyguards and looking the pretentious git he used to be.

„Can I help you with something?" Harry drawled.

„You are Harry Potter." That was more a statement than a question.

„And?" Harry asked, arching an eyebrow.

„Why didn't you tell me?" he demanded in a half-accusatory, half-disappointed voice that threw Harry totally off guard. Malfoy losing his cool like that wasn't a thing a lot of people could say they had witnessed. But then he reminded himself that this Malfoy here was only eleven, so maybe him flustering and showing emotions wasn't so very unusual.

„I beg your pardon?" He asked at last, when the question itself made it into his brain.

„In Madame Malkins, it was you, wasn't it?" Ah, now that explained it. Harry smirked, „Yup, it was," he confirmed and then inquired, „you were planning to bring a broom as I recall. Any luck?"

„None of your business," was the expected answer he got as Malfoy had obviously gotten his bearings back and wasn't divulging any secrets. As if any Slytherin would.

„Anyways, why didn't you tell me?" he demanded.

„Because you didn't tell me yours either," Harry said, still smirking. Malfoy blinked once, then furrowed his brows like thinking back deeply. Then he seemed to come to a conclusion, extended a hand like in the original time-line and introduced himself properly: „Well, I'm Draco Malfoy," a very serious and rather out of place expression on his face as they really both did know the names already.

„Harry Potter," said Harry simply, smirking only a little and taking the hand. The time would tell what would come of it. Maybe, just maybe there won't even be any of their famous rivarly in the coming years. Gods, how much the timeline had already shifted. Only in a first hour or so on the train he had managed to get onto Ron's bad side and apparently get into Malfoy's good graces.

And to make it even more unbelievable, Malfoy sneered in Neville's direction: „Longbottom," as a greeting and stayed into their compartment to play some exploding snap. Suffice to say that Harry was rather amazed at the turn of events. But then a thought of what Luna would say, if he told her about it emerged, and Harry's mood shifted to bittersweet. Well, his Luna was gone and as thoughts of her still rised unbidden to make him depressed occasionally, but in this reality there was actually an alive Luna somewhere. And it was both amazingly unbelievable, as much as it was tremendously sad. She wouldn't know Harry or anything about their past-future at all.

Note to myself, Harry thought, not a good idea to get too distracted during the damn game, as a rather tall tower of cards exploded stright into his face.

The rest of the train ride was rather uneventful. Malfoy stayed to play couple of rounds, and to Harry's futher amasement wasn't even insulting neither himself or Neville. True, he sneered at the other boy, and made some unimpressed remarks, but all in all was rather civil. Or at least when compared to the boy Harry remembered from his original first year. After a while he left to find his groonies, leaving Harry and Neville to buy some sweets from the trolley lady and just to humour Nev, Harry asked all sorts of questions about various candies. Just like the last time, he's first ever Chocolate Frog card turned out to be Dumbledore. Harry sneered at it.

He gave the thing to Neville who was collecting the cards like almost every other wizarding child. Nev apparantly had a couple of the old man already, but took it anyway. Harry really didn't want the picture of Headmaster and his twinkling eyes that seemed to know everything and never giving out any useful information. He really was rather unimpressed with the man by now. And also paranoid enough to get uncomfortable with the picture of Dumbles near him. Harry had made a rather throughout study of the cards to be sure that the person on the picture couldn't spy after him, but still, he couldn't be one hundred percent certain.

The rest of the train ride went on without any more accidents than Trevor making some escape attempts and being promptly caught again by Harry. When they finally were nearing the Hogsmeade station, Neville was snoring quietly, and Harry reading his potion's book once again. He really needed to do a little magic on his more interesting books, so that he could read them in public without being promptly carted off to Dumbledore's office to face some serious accusations.

„… All your things will be brought to the castle separately," was heard throughout the train. Harry closed his book, they were nearing Hogsmeade.

„huh?" asked Neville, blinking blearily.

„Morning," Harry smiled, „we are almost there."

Neville stopped spluttering in an instant and promptly got up to peek out of the window.

Soon enough they were moving in the throng of people who all wanted to get off the train and then some who wanted back onto the thing, having forgotten something they absolutely needed during the welcoming feast, or called for their friends, or for their lost pets.

„You have Trevor alright?" Harry asked, watching as a blond girl in Huffelpuff robes was chasing after a tabby cat. For a moment it looked like McGonagall, and Harry did a double-take as the animal stopped and started to lick itself in a very inappropriate spot for a teacher in public, but luckily for Harry's sanity it didn't have the telltale glasses marks around it's eyes.

„Right here!" chipped Nev, who was holding the squirming Trevor with two hands.

„First years! First years!" came Hagrid's booming voice over the general chicken-headedness and soon enough Harry found himself in a boat with Nev and a very young and very bushy-haired Hermione. „Did you know that the boat ride to the castle has been in tradition from the early fourteenth century? Its said that this way we'll get the most breathtaking view of the whole castle. And I read that there are going to be ghosts in the castle that are actually this old, it would be just brilliant to talk to them, think of the educational value! Oh, I'm so excited to be here, I mean that finally I get to really learn about magic. Nobody in my family's magical at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I'm ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the very best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard. I've learned all our course books by heart, of course,I just hope it will be enough, I couldn't practice the actual spells, so I hope the theory is good enough to start. I'm Hermione Granger, by the way, who are you?

She said all this very fast and practically bounching with excitement.

„I'm Harry," he answered, warmed at this Hermione's, well Hermione-ness. Neville however looked horrified about the prospect of knowing all the books by heart. „N..Neville Longbottom," he stuttered out.

„Nice to meet you both. By the way, do you already know in which house you'll be in? Gryffindor sounds far the best in my mind, even Dumbledore himself was there I have heard, although Ravenclaw sounds good as well. So what about you?"

„One of them too, I think," Harry answered. Part of him was hoping to get back into Gryffindor, more because it would be just so utterly weird and wrong to not be there, but part of him was well aware of both his Slytherin side and his profoundly increased love of new knowledge. So, if the Hat refused to put him back into Gryffindor, he had a mind to ask for Ravenclaw. The house of Ravens was a bit like a neutral territory between Gryffs and Snakes. They were tolerated and even occasionally respected by both sides and it wasn't an insult neither to dark or light families to have their children placed there. Harry didn't think that he would fit in with the shy Puffs, nor would it be good to be placed in Slytherin. Definitely not. The whole wizarding world would think him „gone dark", Dumbledore would be ten times as suspicious as was good for Harry's health, all his former friends would keep their distance, and he would be surrounded by all the people who mostly were against his side in the last war. A lot of the present snakes were future Death Eaters, dark symphatizers or in some better cases only influential figures in the Ministry who Harry neverthless had had some bone to pick. So to Gryffindor, or Ravenclaw he would go. And as the Hat was bound to be intrigued about his time-traveler status, harry thought that it wouldn't shout out any house name before he had a chance to argue back. Luckily he also knew for certain, that the Hat couldn't divulge any information it gathered from student's heads, so his secret was safe as well.

„My gran wants me in Gryffindor," muttered Neville, looking terribly forlorn.

„Don't worry, you'll.." Harry started to console, but was interrupted by a loud: „Trevor!" as the toad had apparantly taken the first opportunity when Neville got distracted to make an another escape attempt.

Neville lunged after his familiar, the boat rocked dangerously and Hermione let out an suprised yelp because a wave of water had washed over her. It all happened so quickly that Harry didn't have time to do anything else than grab instinctivly at the boat to find at least some resemblance of balance. And then grab the back of Nev's robes to save the boy from ending up headfirst in the lake.

Nothing really happened. They got their vessel back to order. Neville crashed hard into the boat's bottom, turnin beet-red, clutching Trevor and getting his robes wet from the lake water that had gotten in. Hermione glared at all the other laughing students and pretended that nothing had happened. And Harry helped embarassed Neville back into sitting position and muttered: „Just ignore them all. And if it makes you feel any better, then think that you saved your dear Trevor from the terrible Black Lake, exposing yourself to the dangers of the same lake, nearly avoiding drowning. But still emerged victorious. Well, it's a good start on getting into Gryffindor," he grinned, „don't worry too much."

This at least got a small smile out of Neville, and all the attention was pulled from them, when from the first boats were heard the multiple: „whoa"s or „oooh"s or a eerily familiar shout of „bloody hell!" when the Hogwarts castle came into their view in all its glory.

It looked beautiful, mysterious and magical in all sense. The numerous little towers and torrents with brightly illuminated windows making it look like something out of a fairytale, and to Harry's sensitivity in background magic, it lit up like a christmas tree – magic was literally pulsing around and inside the old castle. And adding the fact that Harry had thought of it as his first ever home, Hogwarts was ideed something extremely special and wonderful. Looking up at it as the little boats got nearer and nearer, Harry shared all the other first year's awe and wonderment, but also had seven years full of memories to add. Both the best and the worst, but in both cases, they were deep and important beyond words. He stared at Hogwarts, smiling tenderly, lost in memories.

Soon however the castle was being blocked from sight, and in front of Harry's upturned face was a sleek stone ceiling with occasional drop of water and some dark and musty greenery stretching their stems overhead as the little boats had entered the cavernous room under the castle. They moored, got out and followed Hagrid to the double doors there. „Everyone here? You there, still have yer toad? Good!" boomed the giant man happily, and knocked three times.

Like last time, they were greeted by tight lipped McGonagall – a lot younger version than Harry remembered, but still with her customary painful-looking hairstyle and stern manner. She led them into an antechamber and went off to check something, giving way to frantic whispers of the upcoming sorting ceremony. Ron was once again talking about having to wrestle a troll and making a lot of muggleborns turn pasty-white.

Then the ghosts came and already tense athmosphere was filled with yelps of suprise and mild horror. "Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance-" the Fat Friar was saying. „My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost – I say, what are you all doing here?" asked Nick, suddnly noticing the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?" A few people nodded mutely. "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" exclaimed the Friar. "My old house, you know."

„Move along now," a sharp voice cut in, McGonagall had come back, "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start," her eyes roamed over the first years critically and Harry saw The Head of Gryffindor glancing at his own direction with an odd sort of tiny smile. Something that he wouldn't have ever noticed if hadn't had known her for many long years. She probably expected him in Gryffindor. Harry smiled internally, it was good to be welcomed and wanted, and also good to see his old Head of House again.

„There are four houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Huffelpuff and Slytherin," she went on, and Harry noticed the little upturn of lips when saying her own house's name, and a distaste in her voice when mentioning Slytherin. Really, the woman could be as prejudiced about houses a Snape sometimes, he thought and turned out the speech about their Houses being their families in the castle, about support and pride and the good of gaining points for the Cup. Then finally they were shown into the Great Hall.

„The ceiling is charmed to look like the sky outside. I read it from Hogwarts, A History," whispered Hermione frantically, and then went back to muttering all the spells she knew, to be ready for what ever the Sorting Ceremony would contain, „lumos, of course sounds easy, then there is alohamora if I need to open something, aquamenti, but they wouldn't put something on fire, would they? Just is case. Wingardium leviosa to levitate things, but the book said it is unstable on first tries, and I couldn't use my wand to practise beforehand. Bombarda can make things explode, but its fourth year level, I only know this one because I read the famous duel between Garrik the Greedy and Wanston Wilifred, in 1930, or was it 1932…" and on it went, but Harry was listening only with half a ear and wondering with not more than a sliver of a brain about the girl. Mione had learned about the existance of the wizarding world only a month ago, and already she could name the fourth year spells? It really was quite impressive. But with most of his mental capacities Harry was shutting Hermione out, his gaze having riverted to the staff table the moment they entered the Great Hall. Dumbledore alive, Snape alive, Quirrelmort sitting between the Potions professor and Flitwick, fidgeting nervously. And all three had found Harry already, surrepticiously glancing at his way. Well, the word surrepticiously could be used for Dumbledore, as Harry would have never seen the man pay him slightest attention if he hadn't expected it, but Quirell was openly glancing quite a lot of times, totally failing to hid his interest. Snape just glared with sneer on his face and hatred in his black eyes. Harry had somewhat started to both idolise and pity the sour potions master after some years, it couldn't have been easy by any standard to serve two masters and lie his head off to the most skillful legilismens there was. And then there was the whole save Harry thing, that he had never gotten any thanks or acknowedgement for return, far from it, he had been labeled a Death Eater of worst caliber and Dumbledore's cold-hearted murderer. The year as an headmaster must have been the cherry on the cake with the whole staff hating him passionately, and people who once trusted him, thinking the most horrible things about his deeds. How the man had even survived it Harry didn't know.

But now, looking at the disgusted expression sent to his way, Harry also remembered how awful all his potion lessons had been because of one Severus Snape. And how so very childish it was to blame Harry for his father's deeds. He siged mentally and zoned his attention back to the Sorting Hat's song, and after a tremendus applause, to the Sorting itself. He could think of all the teacher's personality problems later.

„When I call your name, you'll come forward and put on the Hat," announced McGonagall in her strict voice, and proceeded to do just that, „Abbott, Hannah!"

And on it went. Harry was rather relieved when a child after child was put into their original houses, at least the timeline hadn't changed that much. Hermione was sitting under the Hat a full minute, arguing to get into Gryffindor, and Neville still took by far the longest, before he also was scurrying off to Gryffindor table, visibly exremely relieved to get into the House for brave, but still once again running off with the Hat still on.

And then finally there was: „Potter, Harry!" and the Hall that had been full of whispered conversations about the Sorting taking too long for their hungry stomach's sake, or whatever else, were cut short like a silencing spell had been cast to the whole lot of them.

And after a second or two, a new kind of whispering started up: „Did she say Potter?"

„The Harry Potter?"

„He's so small."

„Can you see his scar?"

„Harry Potter? Really?"

Harry ignored it with well practiced ease, sat down onto the stool and then the Sorting Hat was once again lowered onto his head, obscuring Harry's view of the whole student body craning their necks to get a better look at him.

„Ah," whispered the little voice in his head, „I see," it went on slowly, „hmm, yes, I know exactly what to do with you, better be…"

„Wait!" Harry interrupted in his mind with terrible foreboding, but to no avail, the Hat only gave a short chuckle, then yelled out, „…SLYTHERIN!"