How Harry Avoided a Big Mess

a.k.a How Harry Became the Boy-Who-Would-Doom-Them-All

"No!"

The four professors and Headmaster in the room stared at the small First Year that had been protesting loudly for the last fifteen minutes. The First Year in question, narrowed green eyes behind round glasses, and crossed his arms, not seeming fazed at all from standing in front of the Heads of Houses and Headmaster.

Yes, this was Harry Potter. Boy-Who-Lived. The Chosen One. Yada yada yada. Not that anyone knew that besides Harry. Not that Harry should even know that. But when time travel is added into the mix... then, yes, it made perfect sense for Harry to know about the Prophecy and being the Chosen One and what-not.

So, now that we've covered that Harry traveled back in time - (he only wanted to get away from Ginny and the kids for one moment! He did NOT want to clean Lily's diaper again. And what the hell had he been thinking when he named his kid after Snape?) – let's get back to the real problem. Harry had ended up in his eleven-year-old body, about to be Sorted. And, of course, the Hat – (why were there so many things that were capitalized?) – had decided to put him in Slytherin, because he had forgotten to ask to be put in Gryffindor. Really, how was he supposed to remember that was how his Sorting went? He was a little confused already because he had suddenly woken up in his eleven-year-old body.

He supposed he could have just gone along with it, found a spell later, and travel back to his future. Then, he realized there was something much easier he could do:

Complain.

Hey, he was the Boy-Who-Lived. What could go wrong?

"No!" he said again. "I am NOT going in Slytherin."

"I agree completely, Headmaster," said Snape, nodding his head vehemently. "A Potter does not belong in Slytherin."

"We can't just let a student decide where he's going! Why, all the others will riot over it!" protested McGonagall.

"This isn't just any student, Minerva," Flitwick said gently.

"Right. Boy-Who-Lived. Chosen One. Blah blah blah," said Harry, waving his hand around dismissively.

The five teachers in the room exchanged confused glances. "The Chosen One?" said Sprout.

"Oh, right. You guys don't know about that, yet," said Harry, half to himself, and half to the audience.

"Maybe you would like to tell us," said Snape coolly.

"No. The point is: I am not going in Slytherin. It'll mess up the whole time line, and I don't even know if I'd be able to beat Voldemort with the help of Malfoy of all people. No thanks. Gryffindor, please," he said firmly.

Dumbledore's eyes were twinkling. "Well, I suppose we can't mess with the time line, can we, my dear Professors?" he asked.

"That's just babbling nonsense, for Pete's sake!" cried McGonagall.

"I'm hurt, Professor," said Harry, mocking pain. "Do you not want me in your House?"

Snape groaned. "It's James Potter all over," he muttered.

"Hey, he looks like he's about to cry. Should we do something about that?" Harry said, observing the teacher curiously.

Snape growled menacingly at him. In Harry's head, he made a mental note not to name his son after Snape.

"Right, guess not." Harry turned back to the matter at hand. "Besides, do you think that the Slytherins will really be able to keep their sanity around me for very long and not join the Death Eaters before the year is up?"

Horror.

"Gryffindor it is," decided Sprout.

"Gryffindor," Flitwick agreed with a nod.

"Fine, Gryffindor." McGonagall sighed, and added in a mutter, "If they can't handle him, no one can."

"Alright, Mr. Potter. I suggest you head up to the Gryffindor Common Room," said Dumbledore, eyes still twinkling.

Harry beamed at them all. "Glad that's settled then!" he said cheerfully, turning to leave. He stopped halfway, and looked back at Dumbledore. "Question." Dumbledore nodded at him. "How do you do that twinkling thing?"

The other teachers had horror spread across their face. "Doomed," muttered Snape. "We're all Doomed!"

And of course, it had to be capitalized. Let it be known, from that day, the teachers called him, the Boy-Who-Would-Doom-Them-All. Or, at least the Heads of Houses did. Dumbledore stayed happily oblivious to the whole thing, while Harry pondered over whether or not Doom worked as a verb in that hyphenated title.

Oh well. At least he learned how to do the twinkling thing.

And avoided a major disaster in the time line. But that's a whole other issue. And minor in comparison to the whole time line thing. Was he right, or was he right?

Note: Yeah. It was time for another cracky fic. Hope you enjoyed, and review!