This story is the sequel to "Who ARE you?"

I fully advise you read that story before this, as there will be references made to that story.

SUMMARY:

James Potter and Sirius Black are dueling for fun in an empty classroom, with Remus refereeing. What happens when an incorrectly cast spell sends the three friends spinning through time into a place they know all too well?

"C'mon, Prongs, is that the best you got?" teased Sirius Black, throwing a tickling curse at James Potter, who immediately doubled over, laughing uncontrollably.

Gasping, James managed to choke out the dancing curse, causing Sirius to begin dancing a rather horrendous tap dance as the tickling spell on James began to fade, replaced by genuine laughter from both James and Remus, who was refereeing the match.

The three friends, devoid of fun things to do, went into an empty classroom to have a friendly duel, and so far, it was evenly matched.

"Junictio!" yelled Sirius, pointing his wand at James, attempting a Jelly Legs curse. But a blinding light flashed into the three's eyes, and Remus yelled something.

The boys all felt a tug behind their navel, similar to traveling by Portkey, something none of them enjoyed. Reeling through the white light, the boys yells faded into nothingness until they landed once again.

Picking his head off of the ground, James looked around him blearily, his vision blurred. Feeling around for his glasses, he found them next to a desk and slipped them onto his face, and began to analyze the room.

It was the same room, that much he could tell. But it was... different. It was no longer an unused classroom, but had desks in rows, a teacher's desk with half-graded papers on it, and a chalk board covered in writing- formulas, definitions.

Feeling confused, James rested on his haunches, before calling, his voice barely above a whisper, "Sirius, Remus?"

"Over here, mate," said a groggy voice, and another grunted. Suddenly, the classroom door opened.

"Harry Potter! What in Merlin's name are you doing in my classroom? asked an enraged McGonagall, and, bewildered, James turned to look at her.

"Erm, Professor?" James asked, his voice slightly shaky, rubbing his scalp, disheveling his hair, revealing his forehead.

Horrorstruck, the Professor stared at his forehead. It wasn't Harry.

"Professor?" asked James again.

"Is anyone else in here?" she asked in her brisk manner, staring at him over her hawk-like nose with stern blue eyes, hiding the shock of seeing James Potter in her classroom.

"Er, yeah... Sirius and Remus..." With that, Sirius emerged, dazed looking, from under a desk, and Remus stood up, stumbling slightly, from where he had been sitting behind McGonagall's desk.

"Come along, we are going to see the Headmaster," said McGonagall shortly, still staring at James. "Potter, Black, and Lupin in my office again..." she muttered to herself, starting off down the corridor, with James, Remus, and Sirius trotting behind her.

Just as James, Sirius, and Remus were being led to Dumbledore, Harry Potter was entering the Great Hall for the start-of-term feast, soaked from head-to-toe from the torrent of rain outside, like buckets being poured down upon the students as they began another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Harry had had a perfectly miserable summer. The Durselys, although they were fair enough with the chores, were still nasty to him, shooting insults every few minutes, and Harry had decided not to whine to Moody or the others about his Aunt's and Uncle's behavior.

Noting that the train must have come early, for their were close to no teachers at the high table with the exception of an exceptionally handsome young man, looking to be about in his twenties, with straight brown hair that was short but hung elegantly into his dark blue eyes.

Hermione prodded Harry. "That must be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," she said to him and Ron.

Harry nodded, feeling glum, as he had felt all summer. The truth was sinking in, hitting him hard: Sirius was gone for good, and there was nothing Harry could do to get him back.

Sometimes, he felt like going back into the past again, just to talk to his father and Sirius again, but he knew how serious the consequences of that could be, and wisely, he didn't. But he still had an ache inside of his gut.

Harry kept feeling that Sirius would come back, would just reappear and everything would be alright.

"But that isn't true," he said, his voice not even a whisper, lost in the chatter of the students around him.

Knocking on the Professor's door, McGonagall kept a straight face.

"Come in," answered Dumbledore, who was bustling about in his office, preparing for the feast, aware that the train had arrived early.

McGonagall walked in, the three boys in tow. Dumbledore looked only mildly surprised that these boys, who had gone to his school so long ago, were once again in his office- and this time, it wasn't for a prank they pulled.

"James, Sirius, Remus, do have a seat," he said politely, waving his wand. Three chintz armchairs appeared.

"I do apoligize, but Minerva and I have to attend the start-of-term feast," he said apollegetically to the three confused boys, who didn't know why everybody was so surprised at their arrival.

Waving his wand, Dumbledore conjured a plate of sandwiches and a large jug of pumpkin juice.

"Tuck in; I will be back to have a word with you after the feast," he said, his blue eyes twinkling. He and Professor McGonagall left, leaving the three Marauders to eat their supper.

The teachers quickly filed into the Great Hall, having been informed of the train's early arrival to Hogwarts. Taking a seat with the new Professor, Dumbledore stayed standing, and the Hall immediatley quieted. McGonagall slipped off to fetch the first years from the chamber off of the Hall, and Flitwick brought out the stool and the Sorting Hat. Seconds after the tiny professor sat down, the first years, looking ever so nervous, filed in in a single file line.

Clearing her voice, McGonagall stood at the head of the first years, a list in her hand. The "mouth" of the Sorting Hat opened, and it began to sing:

Divide you all once more,

That is what I must.

Into houses four,

Each of them different.

Perhaps Gryffindor, the few, the brave,

Bask in all their glory

While Hufflepuffs give all they have,

to be loyal and just.

Ravenclaws, of learning and wit,

find those with those same traits.

Or maybe Slytherin is your best fit,

where the cunning reside.

I quarter students every year,

although I don't feel it's right,

It may bring about the end I fear,

One that is a fright.

Know thy housemates,

know thy classmates,

know thy roommates,

know thy self.

Why not a Gryffindor and Slytherin,

in interhouse relationship?

Or a Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw,

sitting together?

Why can't the houses join,

to make a glorious school?

Quarreling leads to fights.

Fights lead to war.

I have warned you of your fate,

I have warned you of the danger.

But it is my duty to sort you.

So let the Sorting begin.

(As you can tell, I'm not a good poet )

There was some tentative clapping, and students stared at each other. The hat spent two verses on the houses and the rest on warning everybody of what could happen and advising them to make friends.

Harry had a look of stony resilience on his face as the Sorting began, staring with "Appel, Roseanna".

Sitting through the Sorting of a near one-hundred students, the biggest class Harry had seen enter the school, students were finding ways to pass the time when they weren't clapping for a new housemate.

Finally, it ended when "Zacharias, Michelle" was sorted into Ravenclaw. Breathing a sigh of relief, Harry's stomach growled hungerly as Dumbledore stood up.

"Welcome, new students, and welcome back to our old hands," he said, his eyes glimmering. "Tuck in!"

Food appeared on the golden platters, the enchanting smell wafting through the hall. Piling potatoes and roast beef on his plate, Harry and Ron dug in, while Hermione looked at them with a look of mingled disgust at the way they were eating and amazement at how they could fit that much food in their mouths.

Feeling considerably happier, Harry watched as the dinner faded and was replaced by dessert. Harry spooned some chocolate pudding onto his plate, along with some custard-filled pastries and a thin slice of apple pie.

Pleasently full, Harry relaxed as the dessert started to fade and Dumbledore stood up, which brought a complete hush over the hall.

"Now it is time for the speech I know you all are looking forward to," he said, a grin on his old face. "My first announcement is that we have, once again, a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Please give a warm welcome to Professor Clarke!"

The students applauded loudly, for he looked like a halfway decent teacher. Smiling at the students, Clarke looked happy to be teaching at Hogwarts. Harry wondered if he knew none of the teachers had lasted more than a year.

"Also, it is my duty to inform you that the Forbidden Forest is, in fact, forbidden. Some of our older students should know by now." His eyes flickered over to the trio, who smirked slightly.

"Mr. Filch has asked me to remind you that magic isn't allowed in the corridors, and that Fanged Frisbees and Swelling Swords are not allowed in the school, as are any item from the Weasely's Wizard Wheezes, located on number 89 Diagon Alley.

"Now, if I could have prefects-" Ron and Hermione stood up, along with two fifth years- "and the Heads-" Cho Chang and a Hufflepuff boy stood up- "direct the students to their respective common rooms?"

Harry trailed back behind the group of first years, who looked at him, amazed. Feeling slightly irritated that he couldn't go anywhere without being gawked at, Harry sped up, making it to the portrait hole before Hermione, Ron, and the other Gryffindors arrived.

Standing quietly to wait to get the password, Harry leaned against the wall, thinking.

TBC...