The Boy Who Lived Meets The Boy Who Died

by Byakko Loki

"I was born in 1998. I lived a full and plentiful life, eventually dying at the age of 91. But that wasn't the end, oh, that was only just the beginning. Because after that, after I died, something else happened…I was born." Every time I die, I'm reborn into a different place in a different time. I was known by many a wizard, as 'the boy who died'. WARNING: OC MAIN CHARACTER

2. Dermalchik Whoshinda: The Boy Who Died

Just as Professor Grubbly-Plank sat down in Hagrid's seat, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened, and in walked Professor McGonagall, with a bunch of scared looking first years trailing behind her. She, Professor McGonagall, was carrying a stool on which the ancient Sorting Hat was placed, as she and the students approached the staff table. The sound of buzzing chatter quickly faded away. The first years were lined up in front of the staff table, facing the rest of the student body, as McGonagall carefully placed the stool in front of them and stood back.

But something was different.

One of the boys, Harry noticed, was much taller than the rest, and looked more like a third or fourth year. He had dark black hair, and bright green eyes, with a yellow tint to them. Unlike the rest of the first years, he was perfectly calm. Bored even, minus the slight look of excitement and curiosity. He was smiling slightly, but other than that his face was for the most part neutral—blank.

His attention was brought back to the hat, as the rip near the hat's brim opened up wide like a mouth, and the Sorting Hat began to sing:

"In times of old when I was new

And Hogwarts barely started

The founders of our noble school

Thought never to be parted:

United by a common goal,

They had the selfsame yearning,

To make the world's best magic school

And pass along their learning,

"Together we will build and teach!"

The four good friends decided

And never did they dream that they

Might someday be divided,

For were there such friends anywhere

As Slytherin and Gryffindor?

Unless it was the second pair

Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?

So how could it have gone so wrong?

How could such friendships fail?

Why, I was there and so can tell

The whole sad, sorry tale.

Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those

Whose ancestry is purest.'

Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose

Intelligence is surest.'

Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those

With brave deeds to their name,'

Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot,

And treat them just the same.'

These differences caused little strife

When first they came to light,

For each of the four founders had

A house in which they might

Take only those they wanted, so,

For instance, Slytherin

Took only pure-blood wizards

Of great cunning, just like him,

And only those of sharpest mind

Were taught by Ravenclaw

While the bravest and boldest

Went to daring Gryffindor,

Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest,

And taught them all she knew,

Thus the houses and their founders

Retained friendships firm and true.

So Hogwarts worked in harmony

For several happy years. But then discord crept among us

Feeding on our faults and fears.

The houses that, like pillars four,

Had once held up our school,

Now turned upon each other and,

Divided, sought to rule.

And for a while it seemed the school

Must meet an early end,

What with dueling and with fighting

And the clash of friend on friend

And at last there came a morning

When old Slytherin departed

And though the fighting then died out

He left us quite downhearted.

And never since the founders four

Were whittled down to three

Have the houses been united

As they once were meant to be.

And now the Sorting Hat is here

And you all know the score:

I sort you into houses

Because that is what I'm for,

But this year I'll go further,

Listen closely to my song:

Though condemned I am to split you

Still I worry that it's wrong,

Though I must fulfill my duty

And must quarter every year

Still I wonder whether Sorting

May not bring the end I fear.

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,

The warning history shows,

For our Hogwarts is in danger

From external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her

Or we'll crumble from within

I have told you, I have warned you ...

Let the Sorting now begin."

The houses erupted in applause, just as well as it did in chatter. Everyone, including Harry himself, was indulging in trying to explain as to why the Sorting Hat's song was so different this year.

"I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" He heard Hermione say, worriedly.

Nearly Headless Nick leaned over the table, scaring the shit out of Neville, who he was currently leaning though.

"Yes, indeed," he said, "'The Hat feels itself honor-bound to give the school due warning whenever it feel—"

He stopped feeling McGonagall's glare, and just put a silent ghostly finger to his lips, and stood upright, as the chatter in the hall ceased. Satisfied, McGonagall read the first name.

"Abercrombie, Euan."

A terrified looking boy—much different from the tall impassive one—stumbled over to the stool, climbing up, and fumbling with the hat as he put it on his head, his large ears being the only thing that prevented it from falling over his face and sinking to his shoulders.

After considering for a moment, the hat called out, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Everyone at his table cheered, as the boy staggered over to their table, proud to have gotten the first student of the year. Harry watched, as one by one, all the first years were called…except one.

Mr. Tall, Dark and Mysterious…

Well, tall for a first year. Not so much for a fourth or fifth. Quite the opposite, actually.

He was a little dark though, and definitely mysterious.

As he stood there, all the other first years names called, but with his name still not being called, the hall erupted in chatter again. Then, Dumbledore stood, and silence was immediately regained in the hall.

"I'm sure you have all noticed the new student, who just does not quite look like a first year," Dumbledore began, "Well, I would assume that is because he is not. For the first time, in all of History, Hogwarts has a 5th year transfer student—from America!"

Shocked gasped resounded throughout the hall, along with a flurry of whispers.

He looked over to Hermione and Ron.

"No way…" he heard Ron say.

Hermione stared, mouth wide open in shock, "A transfer student…? And in our grade?"

Professor McGonagall's voice rang out throughout the crowd, like a pain filled screech would, in an empty room.

"Whoshinda, Dermalchik."

'Strange name…Even stranger than 'Harry Potter', 'Hermione Granger', or 'Ron Weasley'.'

TO BE CONTINUED…

SORRY TO CUT THIS OFF RANDOMLY, BUT IT'S 3:30 IN THE MORNING RIGHT NOW WHERE I'M FROM, AND I NOW HAVE A STOMACH ACHE FROM EATING SOUR PATCH KIDS TO KEEP UP MY ENERGY, AND MY EYES ARE REALLY GETTING BLURRY AND HARD TO SEE.

ALSO, QUICK VOTE (IMPORTANT!): WHAT HOUSE SHOULD DERMALCHIK BE IN?