CHAP. 2: HARRY: Back at Hogwarts, The Castle of Two Wars

A/N: OMG I'm SOOO sorry this came out late. I'm sneaking this story right now, and since I'm sick, no laptop! Bonus chapters. Thanks for the reviews. Now I need to throw up from all this writing, editing...ah! BTW, that is Shelby from Kane C. :)

Being a seventh year is confusing, Harry concluded as he strolled his already full trolley. Thoughts drifted across his scarred mind, sickening and pouring burning Floo powder into the crevices. They burned and convulted, but he tried to keep them contained in his head - Harry didn't need to disappoint them. Not after they thought Harry was "dead"...he didn't even know who 'them' was.

Right after the deadened Wizarding War, Harry went and repaired most of Hogwarts - it still looked heartsickening, but the repairs weren't complete: not yet, anyway. He just needed to wait it out, strengthen the castle's defenses to prepare for any rogue wizard attack - the Ministry also had taken action of all the surviving Death Eaters and imprisoned them with Azkaban along with the Dementors (freshly reprimanded with jinxed whips!).

The Golden Trio (cough, just Hermione, cough) had decided the list of items for the year (and why they should get them). 'You know, most of last year's students are going to reappear for the Seventh,' the bushy-haired Gryffindor enthused as Luna cautiously ordered the compartment's pastries consisting of herself, Hermione, Neville, Ron and finally the Master of Death himself.

'Five Carrow Crows, please,' Luna said as she consulted a new version of The Quibbler. The Carrow Crow had been added to the pastry trolley only just recently, because of the Carrows that attended as DADA teachers last year. They resembled small, earthy lumps of wax that wore frightening Death-Eater hoods with a special, contorted crow face inside if anyone dared hard to lick the beak. Not for the weak-hearted.

After Luna ordered the Liquorice Wands and the like, she closed the compartment door and started making dying attempts of silent small-talk. Apparently, when she found that didn't work, Luna started twisting her hair while awaiting someone who would be brave enough to break the silence.

'I heard that there's going to be a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher,' Hermione began weakly. Seeking to join in the talk, Harry scoffed. With the odd aura of awkwardness drifting its way out, he felt the words tumbling out of his mouth.

'Please, Hermione, that job is officially jinxed. First, it was a man who harboured Lord Voldemort in the back of his head, dead. Second was a self-conscious git, mental. Third was a werewolf who's the my father's friend, dead. Fourth was a wacky Auror who had identity issues, both probably dead. Fifth was a toad who made us silent-read Voldemort to the death, still not dead and last year...I wasn't there, mostly.' I pouted, and then let out a pent-up breath.

'Last year was Snape and the Carrows,' reminded Neville. At least he didn't stutter as much anymore, Harry noted. His bravery was increasing, the way Gryffindors should. He was the one who killed Voldemort's pet snake with a sword he pulled out of an old hat, but he was still brave. From the corner of the compartment, Harry spotted Ron snap a Carrow Crow, like he wanted to make war on all cheese-flavoured chickens in the world.

'There's also a vacancy for Muggle Studies,' the bushy-haired Gryffindor girl offered. All the wizards in the compartment exchanged curious looks. Luna fingered her necklace as a sign of nervousness, or rather one of her necklaces – the one with the corks that kept supposed Nargles away.

'Who's the head of Gryffindor? Headmistress McGonagall can't be the head for the seventh year since she's...uhm, the Headmistress and the like.' Neville was twisting a Liquorice Wand, and a distressed look dominated that still not very brave face.

'It may be one of the new teachers,' suggested a new voice. Harry spun his head around (nearly whacking his head on a metal beam) to see a red-haired Ginny Weasley who was just coming into the train compartment they were in. Normally, he'd always notice Ginny, and the way her red hair swept over her shoulders, and the smell of that new strawberry shampoo dominating the stink of the train...

Harry shook his head to clear his vigorous thoughts, and when he stopped he felt like he just set fire to his wild black locks.

She sat down beside Luna on the other side of the train compartment, which added up to six offered Ginny half a Carrow Crow, and all felt at peace. They didn't talk too much - mostly everyone was asleep. However, a noise disturbed that sleep.

'HOGSMEADE STATION!'

The whole train (or the only part Harry could glance at, in the small compartment) started standing up, wearing their robes and tossing their rubbish into a rubbish bin that floated around. A few minutes later, the train came to a halting stop.

'Hogwarts,' I muttered under my breath, 'here I come.'

A/N: Okay...so, since I didn't post last week, I'm making it up to you guys – extra short bonus chapter! *Offers you a blue-and-white bag full of blue, caramel popcorn* Have a treat! Get your Youtube Music! SORTING TAMM!

Percy: Wand, Prepare for Liftoff!

I HAD A NIGHTMARE. Well, that wasn't exactly uncommon. We demigods always have pretty scary nightmares, but this one? It topped off the time Leo fell into the sky, but that's another long story. Man: so many long stories.

Well, here we go dive-bombing into the past.

So, after Chiron explained the basic mojo-jumbo of the Wizarding World (still sounds like a cartoon) I walked out of his office and started packing the stuff I'd need while Shelby kept knocking at my door and started ushering little drawings of men, a sun and a gigantic red snake through the cat flap.

I'd packed about two pairs of jeans and trainers, and a photo album consisting of the photos at Camp Half-Blood and New-Rome. Then I tossed in the regular American snacks, along with a canteen of golden nectar and a Zip-Loc bag full of ambrosia squares. I fingered the stick for a while, then tossed it in too.

Then I zipped up the backpack and went to say goodbye to Shelby, who had for some weird reason had a drawing that showed a big red snake with crayons, pizza cutters and silver knives stuck in the beast. It had 'X's for eyes, which, based on my childish-drawing ADHD expertise, probably meant it was dead. 'Kill! Kill,' she shouted, waving the drawing in the air.

After lots of giggles, threats from Annabeth, and a mouthful of red dead-pizza-cutter-snake drawings, I scooped the pill up from my pocket and bounced it in my palm. Then, I headed out with my little blue suitcase.

As soon as I stepped out of my ex-praetor domain (it sounds like a fort, how I describe it) I remember everything blacking out, and I appeared on a little metal box with whole windows. Some kind of sleepy 'choo choo' rythm went over me, lowering my defenses. I don't like low defenses. Then, feeling a long, hard breath of sleepiness wash over my mind, I fell asleep.

This, of course, meant nightmares, torture, and visions of Tartarus.

The air smelled like sulphur and acid, which meant I was probably in Tartarus – no surprise. The floor was red, and felt like cheese sponge covered with that gross bit of whoozit under my feet. Blue, green and purple globs of veins pulsed around – we were in the heart of the Magnanimously Evil Pit. The Doors of Death. I haven't closed them, yet.

Annabeth was beside me, but her hands held me in an iron death-grip. 'Wise Girl,' I began, but I could never finish it. I tried to look at her, but all I saw was a cold ghost, with completely white eyes and no loving – or intelligent, for that matter -eyes. 'Remember Fate,' she screamed into my ear.

'REMEMBER FATE! TERRIBLE FATE!'

And I woke up. Not only was it creeping me out, but I got cold sweat running down a chilled, uncomfortable, crushed spine. My pulse was racing, and for a moment I was confused. Then I remembered – I was in this train with a...magical...?

'HOGSMEADE STATION!'

I sat up with a jolt, nearly banging my head on the ceiling of the train compartment. A few moments later, we all got off the train. I looked down, and I saw that I was wearing some sort of black bathrobe, and then I remembered frowning. It wasn't blue. Not many things were blue here.

Anyways, colour choices aside, let's get on with the story. We'd reached Hogwarts.

Now, I wasn't that much of an architecture fan, but when you live in the same house with a crayon-loving kindergartner and an 'I want to build the world!' freak, the things just rub off on you.

Needless to say, the castle was magnificent. Tall towers encircled the main block, and banners pierced the sky like a kingdom's flag. The breeze felt like I was squatting in a big, thick bubble that smelled like one of those Carrie Junior shampoo for kids. Shelby used to use it all the time.

When I got in, it was even more stunning, but I couldn't catch the ceiling, or the floor, or any of the details, for that matter. I dove straight into the Great Hall – most of the students in the school were already there, and when they saw a big, eighteen-year-old kid wearing blue sneakers come into their mess hall, I doubt their reactions were 'I see this everyday - no biggie'.

Oh well. I muttered excuses, curses, jinxes, whatever. I was late. Then again, I'm most always late. Curses.

The thing that hit me most was their eyes. Literally – they hit me hard, looking at me. Look! New kid! Fictional character with creepy sweat!

I got to my seat. An old hag stood up and addressed people, with a speech and the whole enchilada – as an ADHD demigod, I didn't appreciate long, twisting speeches. None of us do.

After that, the ol' Professor McGonagall went and held an old, gnarled, pointy hat (seriously – was everything old in this place?), placed it on a pedestal while the thing opened a fold of its mouth and sang.

You may think you're out of place

But this is what I say:

Remember, lads, you're not alone

And neither is your way

I'm the sorting hat, wizard people

Don't make me smell a rat

Because, I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And this is what I say:

Choose the path of Gryffindor,

For the brave and loyal

Or maybe the tracks of Ravenclaw,

For the smart and swift and royal

Oh, Hufflepuff may just pick you

To fit in with her kin

Slytherin may or mayn't bother you

And call ambitions and sin

Don't make heed for the past mistakes

For we will stay united and face

The hardships, the sorrows,

Or any one today!

The hat smiled, heightened his tune, and continued.

I may be a hat, a gnarled piece of leather

But learn the way of Hogwarts and

You may just think the better

Here we follow classes and rules

To learn the arts from dusty tomes

But we play hard, fair, loyal, shrewd

In the houses we may see

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And your House?

We shall see!

The hat folded itself back, and turned into a normal, old hat.

'Man,' I muttered, as I fingered my stick, making little astronaut voices in my head. Then, after making the stick launch, I raised my head and yawned. 'This'll be a long, long semester.'