Revised as of 9/22/09. I've eliminated the OC and checked for continuity errors.
"Has anyone seen a toad? Neville's lost one," said a busy haired, bossy girl Harry had known almost his whole life. She looked as confident as he remembered from that first encounter – but this time he recognized the subtle signs of self-consciousness. She looked from Harry to Ron, and her ears turned just slightly pink to find Ron's eyes on her.
By this time, Ron's temper was running thin. The sweets Harry had bought were long gone, and his stomach was rumbling. "We've already told Neville we don't know where his toad is. Though, if I had a toad I would've lost him as soon as I got onto the train." He looked down at a still brown Scabbers sighing in disgust.
"I'm Hermione Granger," she announced. "I never knew I was a witch until I got my letter, but Neville says his grandmum is magical.
"This is Ron Weasley," Harry introduced. "And I'm-"
As he expected, she interrupted him. "I know who you are, of course. You're Harry Potter. I've read all about you. You're in Modern Magical History and The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts and Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century."
"Right. So…" Harry said, feeling awkward. "Does anyone have any idea what house you'll be in when you get to school?"
Ron perked up. "I know I'll be in Gryffindor," he said, though with less confidence than in Diagon Alley. It seemed as they moved closer to the actual sorting ceremony the more nervous Ron became.
"I thought Gryffindor sounded like the best of all," Hermione admitted. "But Ravenclaw is supposed to be the house of intellect. It sounds quite lovely, don't you both think?"
Ron grimaced. "Ravenclaw? I wouldn't want to be in there."
"And why ever not?" Hermione snapped.
"I think what Ron means," Harry said reasonably. "Is that all his family is in Gryffindor. He wouldn't want to disappoint."
"Oh. That sort of tradition is very valuable."
"I think Gryffindor sounds brilliant myself," Harry declared.
Hermione smiled politely. "Well, at any rate, we will be at school soon. You both better change into your school clothes. We have to be in them before the sorting ceremony," she said bossily. "Whatever that is."
Ron turned green. "My brother George told me we have to wrestle a troll…You don't suppose it's true, do you?" he asked Harry.
Harry pretended to look frightened. "I'm not sure…"
"Oh, I highly doubt that. But there are certain to be spells we need to perform before they let us in, don't you think? I know just a few simple charms like reparo, alohamora, impervis, and of course lumos, which is really the most simple spell a witch or wizard can learn. I wonder which we'll have to use…"
With that comforting thought, she left the compartment.
"She's mental," Ron said, pulling on his second hand robes.
What if she does go to Ravenclaw? Harry thought, in a panic. This could mess everything up! The whole entire future could dissolve if she isn't in Gryffindor! How the hell did I let Hermione talk me into this rubbish without a detailed outline?
And then the thought of himself having to coax Hermione Granger Weasley into creating an outline for anything made him chuckle, which earned an odd look from Ron.
"I'm still thinking about that Donovan bloke trying to fly through the center hoop," he said, laughing just a little too hard in his discomfort. Ron chuckled as well, and soon the atmosphere was much more relaxed.
That was, until the compartment door opened yet again, revealing three boys Harry had had the misfortune of knowing in his old life. Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, strutted into the compartment.
"Is it true?" Malfoy asked with his nose in the air. "They're saying all down the train that Harry Potter's in this compartment. So it's you, is it?"
Harry nodded coolly in affirmation. He frowned at Crabbe and Goyle, now not sure exactly why his previous self had been so afraid of them. They were big, yes, but it would be much easier to sidestep one of their blows than a skinnier boy like Malfoy.
"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle. And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy."
Again, Ron sniggered.
"Doesn't that mean Dragon?" asked Harry.
Ron turned pink with laughter.
"Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children than they can afford. You'll soon find out some wizarding families are better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." He held out his hand to shake.
Harry looked down at the hand for some time. He wondered if this was the exact moment when he had turned Draco Malfoy into a future Death Eater. Could one simple slight have really made that much of a difference in Draco's life?
He took the hand, but frowned at Malfoy. "We're all friends in this compartment, Draco. I'm sure there are plenty of things I could learn from someone like you, but Ron's my mate and I can't let you have a go at his family in front of me."
Draco looked down at their hands before pulling away. "You think you can befriend everyone at Hogwarts, Potter?"
Harry shook his head. "No, but I know an ally when I see one, and I think a truce before we even get to Hogwarts would be productive, now don't you? I have a feeling you're going to be a Slytherin, right?"
Malfoy nodded.
"If we don't have to worry about getting at each other, we'd have more time for more important things."
"Like what?" The young boy looked intrigued.
Harry grinned, pretending to consider. "Sneaking out to learn everything about the castle, our classes, and of course making our house Quidditch teams."
Malfoy nodded again. "You're right, Potter," he said, holding out his hand again. "It's a truce."
He looked over at Ron, who was looking at Harry with a mixture of abject horror and admiration. "I'm sorry, Weasley, I guess purebloods are purebloods, after all." He held out his hand, and surprisingly, Ron took it.
###
"Ginny-love?"
She swatted his hand sleepily, burrowing further into his chest. Her red hair was thrown over her shoulder, exposing the pale skin of her neck. He took advantage of this, nuzzling her insistently.
She gave up. "What do you want?" she murmured.
"I love you."
She opened one eye, but she gave him a practiced glare. "You woke me up to say you love me?" she asked, gazing up at him blearily.
It took her a second to pick up on his despondent mood. "Are you sure you want to marry me?"
She frowned. "What are you talking about?"
He shrugged, pulling away and resting his back against the headboard. They always went to bed with two pillows each, but somehow she always managed to steal his; shoving one under her back, and using one to cover her head.
"Harry Potter, what are you thinking about?"
He sighed. "It's so dangerous to be around me, Ginny. Are you sure you want to take the risk? I don't want you to regret this."
She was too tired to sugar coat. "I'd have to be a pretty stupid witch to not want to marry you."
With narrowed eyes, he asked, "Why is that?"
"Because, as I hear it, you have the cutest little arse in the magical world," she deadpanned.
He didn't smile. "When I broke up with you sixth year…"
"You were being an idiot, weren't you?" she asked rhetorically. "And it took me all of three days in the same house with you to convince you of the truth. And that truth is this: we are meant to be together, no matter what that snake charming, anti-social bastard thinks he can do to us. I'm not letting you go, Potter. So you may as well get some sleep; we're getting married in ten hours."
He pulled her in for a kiss. "That's what I needed to hear."
"Cold-feet have no place in this bed, Harry. We're getting married because I love you, and you love me, and when people love each other, live in the same flat, and have lots of raunchy sex together, they get married." She grinned.
###
"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,
But don't judge on what you see,
I'll eat myself if you can find
A smarter hat than me.
You can keep your bowlers black,
Your top hats sleek and tall,
For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat
And I can cap them all.
There's nothing hidden in your head
The Sorting Hat can't see,
So try me on and I will tell you
Where you ought to be.
As Millicent Bulstrode walked up to the stool to be sorted, Harry moved away from Ron (who was again cursing his brothers for their fable about the troll wrestling) and approached Hermione, who was chatting with a shy Neville.
He came up behind her and tapped her arm. She turned, looking at him expectantly, and he jerked his head to the edge of the group. He didn't have much time, and he needed some space to speak with Hermione alone, which was hard to come by in the close knit group of first years. He pushed past a trembling Neville, with Hermione following him suspiciously.
"Do you have a question about the sorting?" she asked, frowning.
He leaned in closer. "Hermione, you are going to have to trust me. When you go up to the hat it will consider two houses; Ravenclaw and Gryffindor. I haven't time to explain everything to you, but it is imperative that you tell the hat you want to be in Gryffindor. Can you do this for me?"
She opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "John is the greatest Beatle," he told her in a hushed voice. "You have to trust me, Hermione. I will explain everything as soon as we have another moment alone."
Her eyes widened, but she didn't have time to respond. "Granger, Hermione!"
This time her walk was not half so eager. She looked back at Harry fearfully, but put the hat onto her head. The seconds ticked by, Harry's hands curled up into fists. The hat squirmed around on her head, presumably having an interesting discussion with her. Finally its flap opened, and it bellowed, "GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry felt the air whoosh from his lungs in relief. His fellow classmates climbed onto the stool and were sorted, but Harry didn't really pay attention, until Malfoy took his place. Last time the hat hadn't touched his greasy blonde hair before it was shouting Slytherin. This time, the hat deliberated. Harry didn't have to be a Legilimens to know what two houses the hat was going between. Draco never was the most intelligent – except perhaps in Potions – and never hardworking. There was something different about his interaction with Harry on the train that made him at least consider going into Gryffindor. Of course, the hesitation was momentary, and the hat soon shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"
The minutes passed and McGonagall called his name. The whispers were the same as ever, but Harry was used to them by now. The only thing he was thinking about was ensuring he was sorted into Gryffindor.
The hat was placed on his tiny head, the world once again disappearing underneath the wide brim.
Oh, my, we've been manipulating time, haven't we Potter?
"I have been busy," Harry responded.
All the way from the future? What brings you here, even after the defeat of the Dark Lord? Ah, the wife died, didn't she? You came back for her.
"Yes," Harry whispered. "I came back for her and Ron."
I think you now know exactly why once upon a time I suggested you go into Slytherin. You can see your own cunning, as plainly as I can. However, this time travel possesses such a noble quality only found in – "GRYFFINDOR!"
###
The first few weeks of the term were nicer than Harry had ever known at Hogwarts. He hadn't had his duel with Malfoy, which was a problem, but he pushed the thoughts of the future and the past out of his thoughts for a while, and simply concentrated on being a first year student.
Hermione had been shooting him questioning glances, but fortunately he never had the time to speak with her privately. He steered clear of the library for a while, and he was never more grateful for Ron being the person he was than at that time.
Truth be told, he wasn't anxious about the inevitable talk with Hermione, but he certainly wasn't pulling her out of the Great Hall to do it. Hermione being Hermione, he knew she would be evaluating his reactions to people, scolding him on his experimentation with Malfoy, and mortified about his plans to play matchmaker to her and Ron.
Harry didn't feel ready for it yet. It was still two weeks until Halloween, and he felt like he had more than enough time to relax, make the three of them friends again, 'discover' Fluffy, the three headed dog, and knock out a troll before the end of term.
Unfortunately, the entire situation was taken out of his hands in the form of one angry Hermione Granger, cornering him one afternoon after Transfiguration.
"Harry," she said briskly. "You and I are going to go for a walk and you are going to tell me exactly what you were going on about during the Sorting. Why am I in Gryffindor, and why was it so important to you?"
He looked at her seriously. "You aren't going to believe it, but I swear I'm telling you the truth.
"I guess I should start with Voldemort. Do you know who he is?"
She rolled her eyes. Of course she knows.
"Well, I am supposed to kill him. I haven't been told yet – and that's part of the secret. Well, I guess there isn't any way to really tell you gently so here it goes: You and I worked out a way for me to come back in time. We were twenty-five, and our spouses were both killed, and we decided I needed to come back and change things.
"You and I were best friends. Ron Weasley, too. We knew each other since Halloween, and we were friends until the end. You told me if you didn't believe me I should tell you 'John is the greatest Beatle' because no one else, not even your husband, knew that about you."
He took a deep breath, and waited for her reaction.
Her face was blank. "Well, I suppose that explains all the déjà vu I've been experiencing since I came to Hogwarts. I should have known I've actually studied here before."
"You believe me?" he asked incredulously. "Just like that?"
She gave him a miniscule smile. "My past self was quite right; John is the greatest Beatle, and no one knows that about me."
"That's the best news I've heard all day, 'Mione. I don't know why I put off this conversation; I feel so relieved now that you know. This means you can help me manage everything."
"Manage what?"
"I have to kill Voldemort, save a few people from death, get you and Ron together in time for the Yule Ball during our fourth year," he ignored her snort of disbelief at the mention of Ron, "and make Ginny love me and work out the whole horcrux thing, and collect all the Deathly Hallows before it's too late."
"You want me to help you defeat You-Know-Who? Aren't we a little young for all that?"
"Sure, we are now. But we decided I should try to defeat him earlier this time. I already know all the magic we're taught in school and more – schoolwork won't really occupy me. I have a million things I need to make right before we graduate. I've already started."
She wrinkled her nose and began walking, pulling him towards the library. "Didn't we make a firm plan?"
He shook his head. "You thought my act would appear forced if I knew exactly what I was doing and when. I mean, we had informal plans, and we discussed certain events in great detail, but we never came up with a solid, step by step outline."
She narrowed her eyes. "My past self seems to be lacking in logic. Are you sure you didn't just get a bump on the head?"
"Hermione, the woman in the future was grief stricken. She could barely function. Her husband was dead," he said sadly. "I can't blame her for being a little hasty in trying to carry out our plans."
Chewing on her lip, she said, "I need to read up on time travel. And I want you to walk me through the entire process by the step."
He nodded. "And there are things I have to tell you about the future. Like what we're going to do on the day of Halloween, so that we can become best friends again."
She smiled weakly. "This is a lot to absorb, Harry. We go from not knowing each other to plotting to shape the future in a matter of minutes."
"Time moves fast when you live in the world of Harry Potter," he said simply.
###
"Happy Birthday, love," he whispered, putting his face into her auburn hair.
She giggled as he hit a ticklish spot on her neck, turning around to wrap her arms around his waist. "Why, thank you."
"How old are you again?" he asked, teasingly. "I don't think anyone mentioned it."
She smacked him on the arm. "You prat, you know I'm seventeen today."
"Oh! That's right, Ginny-gin-gin is seventeen today! All grown up," he swooned in a perfect imitation of Molly Weasley.
"Shut it!"
Surprisingly, he grew serious. "I have a present for you. I'm not sure you'll like it, but I hope you do."
She quirked an eyebrow. "What is it?"
He pulled away slightly, digging into the pocket of his everyday black robes. He hadn't grown up in the magical world, but he really did like to do whatever he could to fit in, and he found he actually liked wearing robes.
He found what he was looking for; a little black box lay in the palm of his hand. She looked at it suspiciously; they had talked about waiting to get married at least until she was fully out of school. There was less than a month before she had to go back to school. Reluctantly, she took the box from him, and opened it..
Inside, laid a bronze key. She looked at Harry's face, brow furrowed. "What's this?"
He smiled at her. "There's no telling how much time we have, Ginny. I love you, and I want you with me, all the time. There is your last year at school to contend with, but I think we can make it work. I'm not proposing – but I want you to move in with me. I rented a flat, and it's all furnished. You could stay there, the rest of the summer – we only have a few weeks left anyway – and then when you come home for Christmas, you'll go there with me, and then you won't have to completely start from scratch when you finish Hogwarts. What do you say?" He took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves, and watched her anxiously.
Her eyes were wide. "You want me to move in with you?"
"Yes."
Before he knew it, he was captured in a warm embrace, Ginny's lips kissing him hungrily. "This is fantastic!" she proclaimed, kissing him again.
"You really want to?"
She climbed into his lap, hugging him securely. "I really, really want to move in with you. I'm not ready for marriage yet, but I definitely want to be with you. Be warned thought, I may end up like mum and start yelling at you for dirty socks on the floor!"
"I don't care if you shout at me nonstop. I want you there."
###
"It's no wonder no one can stand her," Ron ranted to harry on their way out of Charms. "She's a nightmare, honestly!"
Just then, Hermione brushed past them, feigning tears, but winking at Harry when they locked eyes. He looked pointedly at Ron, who looked extremely uncomfortable at having made Hermione cry, and definitely did not suspect the whole thing had been plotted.
Just as the Halloween pudding was appearing on the table, Quirrell stumbled into the Great Hall, shouting about a troll. Harry immediately pulled Ron to the side, barely avoiding Percy the Prefect's hawk-like gaze, and told him about hearing Hermione was in the girls' bathroom.
"She doesn't know about the troll!"
The two first year boys scurried down the hallway to the girls' lavatory, hurrying when they heard the troll's footsteps. Again, Ron locked the troll into the very door Hermione was behind, and again the troll had nearly trashed the entire bathroom. Harry's wand-in-the-nose trick did no better than the time before, and it was again up to Ron to knock the troll out with its own club.
When they were confronted by the teachers, Harry nudged Ron to look at Snape's mauled leg, setting the scene for their eventual discovery of Fluffy.
Hermione did become their friend after that, and Harry let himself relax again, knowing things were definitely going in the right direction.