Okay, here's chapter 2 everyone!

The World's Gone Crazy
By Allanasha Ke Kiri

Chapter 2

"What's your cover?" Tom asked, yet again.

Harry rolled his eyes, but obediently repeated the story he'd been given, "My name is James Medin. I am the only child of Maria and Jason Medin, who died near the end of the last school year. Up until then, I was home schooled, as my parents feared sending me away because of the 'Dumbledore problem' and again, that sounds too weird. They died in a muggle car crash. Since then, and since then I have been staying with family in Asia. This summer I came to stay with my Uncle Tom. What no one knows," he added with a smile, "is that I'm really Harry Potter from another reality, and that the real James Medin was killed in Asia."

"Stick to the original story, James," Tom said, slipping in Harry's new name.

"Yeah, yeah," he said, "Just one question."

Tom raised an eyebrow.

"Do I get to call you Uncle Tom? Or do I have to call you Professor Riddle?"

Tom closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, before responding. Either will do. In private, however, I would prefer you that you call me Tom."

Harry, or rather James - as he was to be called - nodded in understanding. He knew Tom would be in a lot of pain for a while. He had just lost family, and Harry had taken on the persona of his nephew, looks and all. Harry sighed, wondering if he was really up to it.

"Just so you know," Tom said, gaining Harry's attention once more, "I expect my nephew to be in Slytherin."

Harry smirked, "Yeah well, I was always a Gryffindor."

Tom curled his lip up in mock distast, "It figures." he sneered.

Of course, he thought as the man walked away, the hat had wanted to put me into Slytherin. I wonder if it still would.
Harry remained where he was for a long time, thinking over the possibilities. Voldemort expected a Gryffindor Harry, but if he went back being a Slytherin, that would be yet another thing Voldemort would not expect. Of course, there was always the possibility that he really was a "true" Gryffindor. If that was the case he could-- No, he'd had enough of telling the hat where to put him. It would put him where it thought he would do best. He would just have to wait and see where he went.

Harry sighed once again. He really didn't think he could go through with it. Why couldn't he just stay at the sidelines where it was safer?... Sidelines? Safer? Since when had he wanted to wait at the sidelines? Gathering up all the courage Gryffindors were known for, he steeled his resolve. It was all for the best, after all.


Harry anxiously paced the side room as he waited for Snape to come collect him. Tom had told him they would send for him when all the first years had been sorted. Of course, that meant that the incredibly long wait seemed all the longer.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. He was acting like a bloody first year. He'd already been through the sorting; he should be calm, with not an ounce of worry in him. He probably would be, he figured, if he knew he'd be a Gryffindor this time round. The thing was, he wasn't sure he wanted to be a Gryffindor again.

As much as he was curious about the Harry that belonged to this world, he really didn't want to share a bathroom with himself. He blinked, the thought oddly disturbing.

And just how wrong did that sound? he asked himself. Impatiently, he tapped his fingers against his pant leg. How bloody long did it take to sort the first years anyway?. he demanded, silently growling in frustration.

"Mr. Medin. If you are ready."

Harry jumped as he turned to the professor. Gritting his teeth, he fought the urge to glare at the smirking man.

"Of course, Professor." Harry said smoothly, showing none of his inner turmoil. As he followed the head of Slytherin out, he pushed back Harry. Here, he was James. Tom's nephew. Taking a calming breath, he stepped out of the room.

Alright James, he thought as he strode forward, Here we go.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Tom was saying, "please welcome James Medin"

There was a polite applause, no one wanted to get too excited over the new kid until after he was sorted after all. James - as he had decided to call himself, even in his thoughts - nodded calmly back as he made his way to the sorting hat. As he sat, he once again heard whispers racing through the great hall. These were different, however, as they were not about him, but about James. The hat silently slid over his eyes. He patiently waited for it to give him its verdict.

"Humph!" the hat said to him "Verdict indeed. I don't sentence people. I just sort them."

"Sorry," James thought back, wondering how insane it was to talk to a talking hat.

The hat sighed, but began its assessment of him ["Brave . . . very brave. You've faced improbable odds without even flinching. Very Gryffindor. But this . . . charade you play is definitely Slytherin. You seek to work through this world until you can get back and then-- Oh my! Interesting, very interesting. So many choices in you, so many at odds with each other. But where to put you?" The hat was silent a few moments [" This is usually when the kid thinks of a preference, " It hinted quietly.

James fought the smile that threatened to form. ["nope," he thought back ["I'm through trying to tell you where to put me. I don't have a preference."

["Oh, but you do. You do."

"SLYTHERIN!!!" it shouted finally.

The Slytherin table instantly burst into applause as the hat was taken off James. He stood and made his way over to them. Scanning the table, he saw that there was an opening between the new first years, and the older class men. James sat there. Tom stood back up again, giving the usual warnings about the forbidden forest, various rules, and so on. Finally, he sat back down, and the feast began.

He felt several of the Slytherins eyeing him curiously, but he paid them no mind. Already, he was feeling like the proverbial sheep in wolves clothing . . . or was it, sheep being led to the slaughter. That sounded right. James mentally shook his head, trying to clear out the ridiculous thoughts.

Overall, James was quite happy with dinner. Absolutely no one bothered him. He hoped it stayed that way for another day or two, just until he got used to the idea of being a Slytherin. After all, how hard could it be to change the mind set he'd gotten himself into over the past 6 years. He groaned mentally. He was doomed. He was well and truly doomed.

Finally, even the deserts were cleared away, and they were all herded to their dorms. The password (Basilisk) had James blinking in tired curiosity. He wondered if anyone knew about the one hiding beneath the school. He would have to ask Tom about that.

Beyond exhausted, he followed the others up the stairs to their rooms. Unlike others, he, like the first years, had to search for his room. He found it rather quickly, however, as his trunk was rather unique. Inside, it was a basic trunk, but the outside was intricately carved snakes winding around the base and the lid. As he entered the room, Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle looked up from their inspection of it.

"You really Professor Riddle's nephew?" Malfoy asked.

"Yeah,"James shrugged.

"Cool," was the answer.

Nothing else was said as the four boys got ready for bed.

This is going to be a long year, James thought as he fell into bed.


At breakfast the next morning, James was, once again, eating alone. He was beginning to get quite tired of it. Not that there was anything he could do, save actually sit with someone. The problem was, all the Slytherins he remembered, hated him. Okay, not James, but Harry. Not that any of them knew he was Harry.

Stop, he told himself mentally. He was not going to let himself babble over whether or not they hated him or James, not even mentally. It was absolutely insane.

James sighed, giving up his attempts to eat. He silently grabbed his books, purchased by owl, and headed off for his first class, Potions. By moving slowly, and taking the long route, Harry managed to get there just as everyone else did. As he moved to enter the room, however, someone shoved past him.

"Watch where your going, Slytherin." The boy sneered.

"Watch where I'm going?" he asked incredulously, looking into the rather familiar black orbs, "You're the one who ran into me."

"So stay out of our way, Slytherin," another one." Another one joined in.

James turned to face him. The boy who'd spoken up was Harry James Potter. There was no mistaking that face, he used to see it in the mirror every time he looked.

"Is that the best you've got?" James sneered back, "'Cause if so, you seriously need to work on your retorts."

He gave them a 'kind' smile before sweeping into the potions classroom. He really didn't want to get into a fight on his first day. Especially not with himself. That just sounded insane.

Just commit me now, he thought sarcastically, It's not like this world can be any more crazy.

He dropped heavily into his chair, ignoring the looks of hatred that Harry, and three unknown boys threw at him.

Wait, he thought, one of them had red hair. risking a glance over, he saw that one of them was Ron, and another was Neville. That still left the unknown boy, though. Harry wondered who he was, and how come he'd never seen him before.

Before his mind could come up with yet more questions, Snape glided in, his cape billowing in behind.

"Welcome to sixth year potions," he said as he turned to face them, "If you are here, it that means that you somehow managed to pass your owls. No surprise for some of you, but for others. . . ." he trailed off, his eyes sliding to Neville, disgust evident, "I will allow no slacking in this class this year. I will not tolerate daydreaming, or any wandering of minds. The potions we will be working with will be very dangerous. For some of them, one wrong ingredient can blow up the entire cauldron, obliterating everything in its path. This is not a class for the clumsy, the illiterate, or the ones who cannot follow orders." He let his eyes stray back over Harry's group. None of them budged.

"The first potion of the year is on the board," he drawled, waving his wand, "I do so hope you read your books over the summer."

James silently read the board for a few moments, something he'd learned from Hermione, before getting up to get his supplies. This did two things. One, it allowed the crowd around the supplies to thin out, and two, it helped him focus on the work that needed to be done. Sending his mind skimming over the ingredients list, James carefully grabbed what he would need, and carried it back to his cauldron. Glancing at the steps one more time, he set to work.

If he remembered correctly, the potion on the board was the veritiserum potion. He had studied it quite thoroughly. In fact, he had even debated trying to brew it himself. He hadn't, though, deciding that if he messed it up, he would rather be around someone who knew how to undo whatever he'd done wrong. But, he had studied it. He could even recite it backwards. He knew. He'd tried it.

James smirked slightly, this was one potion he was going to ace, and he wouldn't even need Hermione's help to do it. He barely contained the chuckle. Somehow, he didn't think Snape would appreciate it. He also didn't think he'd let even a Slytherin slide for doing that in his class.

James carefully added ingredient after ingredient, occasionally glancing at the board to make sure he remembered it correctly. The potion had to be precisely made, or it would be completely inert -- if you were lucky. If your weren't. . . . Well, you could blow up your cauldron. And James did not want to blow up his cauldron on his second first day in Snape's class. James blinked.

And how wrong did that just sound?

Shaking his head to clear it, he concentrated once again on the potion at hand, hoping his momentary lapse in attention hadn't hurt the potion. As far as he could tell, it hadn't.

Finally, Snape said that time was up. The potions would either be done, or they wouldn't be, and they were all to try their own potions. Unless he, the professor, decided they were too risky to try. Somehow, James didn't think that boded well for the Gryffindors.

Snape started with the Gryffindors, each of them being forced to answer questions that were usually very embarrassing.

"Ah, Mr. Potter."

James bit his tongue to keep from answering.

Harry put a few drops of the potion onto his tongue and waited for the professor to ask his questions.

"Who is your current . . . love interest, Mr. Potter?"

James could see Harry trying to bite back his response.

"Cho Chang," he finally gasped out, the potion actually winning that battle.

"A nickname your parents have given you?"

Harry actually glared at the man as the potion forced his reply, "My little Prince," he ground out most unwillingly. The Slytherin portion of the room descended into a fit of laughter. James felt his jaw try to drop.

"Quiet." Snape order after several precious moments, "I think we're done, Mr. Potter," he said before giving the boy the antidote.

"Mr. Black," Snape sneered at the mystery kid.

Black? James though in surprise, Black, Black? As in Sirus Black?

Black rolled his eyes and calmly took the potion.

The only one on the gryffindor side that didn't get to try his potion was Neville, but that was no surprise. He never had been very good at potions. After the Gryffindors were done, Snape turned his attention to the Slytherins. Moving from one to the next, they all took their potions and went through the questions. None of them were as humiliating as the ones given to the Gryffindors, however. It seemed Snape, no matter the reality, was just as prejudiced.

Finally, Snape got to him. James took his immediately, not hesitating even a second after the professor had given him the go-ahead. Snape raised a single eyebrow at his confidence, but said nothing about it.

"What is your worst fear?"

"Dementors," James replied without hesitation.

His eyebrow raised further, "And how do you know this, Mr. Medin?"

"They're the things that appear when I face a boggart."

And just how many boggarts have you actually seen?"

James blinked, "More than I can count, sir."

"Just what were you doing that you happened to see so many?"

"Practicing my Patronus."

"And did you succeed?"

"Yes,"

"Prove it."

James blinked up at him once more before shrugging and pulling out his wand. He spent a moment searching for a happy memory, and found it. He pictured meeting Ron for the first time. Opening his eyes, he raised his wand.

"Expecto Patronum!"

Out of his wand came the stag that he was so used to seeing. It raced around the room a few times, searching out the dementors, before moving back to Harry. It brushed against him lightly before fading from view. The class stared at him in amazement.

"Most embarrassing moment."

"I was twelve," he responded promptly, already feeling his cheeks burn, "It was valentine's day, when the younger sister of one of my friends sent a leprechaun with a singing valentine. He ended up tripping me and sitting on my back while he sang it front of dozens of other people who knew me."

Both of Snape's eyebrows went up, and he almost looked . . . sorry that he'd asked. It was obvious that he'd thought James was lying during the first set of questions. Across the room, the Gryffindors were stifling their laughter.

"Silence!" Snape snapped. The room instantly went quiet, but they were still laughing under their breath. Snape quickly gave him the antidote and moved on. James wanted nothing more than to sink into the ground right then and there.

Okay! I hope you enjoyed it. Tell me what you think. Reviews keep my muse moving!