Harry didn't know what to do. He had arrived at the Leakey Cauldron easily, booking a room until the morning of the first of September as the Ministry asked him to, and he had even gone and bought all his school supplies with the money Hogwarts had given him, but with dwelling on the thought of the date and what Hogwarts would be like at this time, Harry remembered something. Dumbledore would be working at the school. It wasn't that Harry was scared or angry with Dumbledore even in the past; it was that he had remembered Hermione explaining the importance of Time Travel back in their third year. Harry wasn't scared of seeing himself, for he wasn't even born yet, he was scared that the Professor would see his face for the next year and remember it clearly, only to see his face again when he'd arrive at Hogwarts in about fifty years.

There was also the case of Harry's father. They looked exactly alike, except for merely the eyes. The age and time difference between the two might throw the connection off track, but there was still that chance that one day Dumbledore might see James at age seventeen, and be reminded of Harry as Jonathan, and then see Harry again at age eleven, and work out what had happened. Harry supposed he could change his features a little more, but that didn't change how he was still the same person inside. He couldn't hide his eyes forever, per se. All magic that changes the colour of one's irises wears away with time, and Harry would surely forget to keep refreshing the colour so many times a day. He simply didn't want to see the Professor with all these obvious flaws in plan. Dumbledore was too smart.

But would Dumbledore be able to work out that he was from the future? Harry was sure, when the thought about the fact that he had nowhere else to go, that he might be able to simply avoid the Professor… Dumbledore couldn't exactly force Harry to be conversational. Harry in general had become less and less talkative, so Dumbledore wouldn't even think of it as anything unusual. He might be curious, as many others, but Harry wasn't going to be stupid enough to allow anyone to find out about who he was.

He wouldn't allow Dumbledore to push him into going on the run. Harry had no one join; he needed this year at Hogwarts no matter what. Dumbledore's presence might remind him of all that he had done wrong, but perhaps not. Maybe after this last year at the school Harry could get a real job and make a life somehow. He was still taking all the classes to be an Auror, but he wasn't sure if he wanted to be one anymore. Maybe he'd live a quiet life in some part of the country where he could have some employ that didn't take up much of his time, and where he could be alone.

The last thought supplied him with enough to think about to last the three and a half days until arriving at King's Cross. He decided to change his appearance a little more after he left the Leakey Cauldron, because from there and onward he wouldn't meet the same person twice. All that he changed was the shape of his jaw, the shape of his eyebrows and his nose a tiny bit. He looked like everyone else, but different from himself. It was easy, once he thought about it, to take on a new identity when you had magic… Harry put a little more effort in to look like he came from the 1940s as well, because it wasn't good to stand out, especially when he had to go and join Hogwarts again.

He arrived at King's Cross Station at the right time, pulling his trunk along behind him and worrying a little bit more about Dumbledore. He walked through the barrier of platform 9¾, and arrived on the other side to see crowds of families preparing to say goodbye for the long year of school ahead as usual. Sight of the beginning of school made him think a lot about Ron and Hermione, so he felt a little sick and didn't look up at anyone around him anymore. He stood against a wall facing the train and waited patiently for the whistle to sound. He stared down at the pavement in front of him and thought.

The whistle blew, and he heaved his trunk towards the train. He made his way down to where a random empty compartment stood, and sat, being painfully reminded of the golden days of Hogwarts in his past. His stomach was beginning to swarm with nerves as he looked out the window and viewed all the students in their aged clothing and manners. Something about this time made him feel edgy, and the fact that he didn't know what it was made him even more so. He sighed lightly, looking away from the platform where the students and parents stood.

Almost everyone was on the train now, and the whistle sounded again to signify that the Hogwarts Express was moving towards its destination in about ten seconds, when suddenly the door to Harry's compartment opened. He glanced up with blank boredom to see four boys enter the carriage. They didn't ask if it was okay with Harry if they sat here. Harry looked out of the window and generally ignored them.

"Great, another year at Hogwarts," said a boy with a drawling voice.

"I'm glad it's the last year," said another boy with a slight cockney accent, which reminded Harry oddly of Ron. This boy sat in across from Harry. "I can't stand how much work we have to do."

"Well, at least our Lor-" started the third person.

"Shut up," the forth one said.

Harry glanced briefly at the boy sitting in front of him to see that he wore a curious expression. The boy spoke when Harry looked at him. "Who are you, then?"

"Jonathan Smith," Harry replied.

The boy across from Harry cast his friends a significant glance. "I never heard of you before."

"I'm new," Harry said, turning away, but the boy still asked questions.

"Why you coming to Hogwarts so late?"

"I never had the chance to join the school before, I suppose," Harry lied, looking up.

"How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"What house you in?"

"I dunno," Harry lied again. He knew that he was going to be put into Gryffindor when he arrived at the school.

"What's your blood purity?"

Harry paused for a second, a little taken aback with this last question. Out of the habit of answering this question with the same answer for over a year, he said, "I'm a pureblood… What did you say your name was?"

"I didn't. I'm Avery."

"Avery?" Harry asked quickly.

"Yeah. Well, that's my surname."

Harry looked at the boy across from in confusion. Avery wasn't supposed to be attending Hogwarts until Snape's time, in the seventies. This boy would be around forty by that time. Maybe Harry was mistaken; maybe this was just the father of the Avery he knew… Yes that had to be it. He managed to keep his expression blank after this thought. He found that anxiety had poured through his veins when he thought of this actually being the Death Eater he knew. It was just a Death Eater's father…

"And this is Dolohov, Nott and Lestrange."

Harry felt like he was about to be sick as he heard this, and slowly looked around to the other three people sitting next to him. They all nodded and said a quick 'hello'. Harry nodded back, swallowing as he struggled to keep a blank expression. He wouldn't allow his brain to comprehend what this could mean.

The Death Eaters – as Harry had no doubt these boys were – didn't really seem to have many questions for a few minutes, so they brought out what was blatantly a magical gambling game.

"Wanna play?" Avery asked.

"No thanks…" Harry reflected on how odd it was that the Death Eaters played gambling games in their free time. He wondered – slightly reluctantly – what their leader thought of this. If it was true that he was at Hogwarts.

"So… what house do you think you'll be sorted in?" Avery asked.

"I don't know," Harry replied. "Most likely Gryffindor."

Harry heard one of them make a hissing noise Slytherins he had known often did when they disapproved of something, thought he knew the hiss had no real meaning in any language.

"I'd suggest being a Slytherin," the boy called Nott said.

"You can't choose where you go," Harry replied simply. "An idea of where you want to go does help the Sorting Hat decide, but you can't really choose. It's more about what decisions you have made in your past, and what personality you have by nature."

"How would you know?" asked Dolohov in his thick voice.

"I heard about it," Harry lied.

"Well, even if that's true, I'd try and be a Slytherin," Avery said.

"Why?" Harry asked.

The Death Eaters cast one another secretive glances. "We don't much like the other houses," Avery stated.

"What should I care what you do and don't like?" Harry asked. He had said that without really thinking, but didn't regret it either way. It was true.

"Definitely seems like a Gryffindor," Lestrange said quietly in his drawling voice to the others. Then he addressed Harry directly. "Since you're new here, we won't do anything about that last comment, but bare in mind we probably won't forget it."

Harry bit back a few retorts at this, and turned away. "Alright then."

The Death Eaters didn't say much more, they just continued with their game of cards. Harry remained silent as he stared out of the window next to him. He had nothing to do but think, for he didn't want to talk to any of the Death Eaters or read; both of those options seemed duller than just reflecting upon the past. After a long while Harry came to realise that if this was the '40s, then Slughorn would also be a teacher at Hogwarts. Harry didn't know how he felt about this. He knew that there was nothing about him as Jonathan Smith that would make the potions master want him in the Slug Club, so that was good at least. He wondered what it would be like to see the Professor in the eyes of a student who was all and all disregarded. Also with Dumbledore, it would be odd to be a student of his…

The Hogwarts Express headed north for the entire day, and it was near nightfall when they arrived in Hogsmeade station. The Death Eaters and Harry got changed into their school robes before waiting a minute, and then moved outside their compartment to be some of the first students off.

"So if you ain't been sorted yet, are they gunna sort you when we get to the castle, at the feast?" Avery asked.

"Probably," Harry replied indifferently.

Harry vaguely wanted to drift away from the Death Eaters, but they seemed to think that staying with him would be the best. He knew they probably just wanted to ask him a few more questions before they got to the castle. Harry ended up in a carriage with them all.

"Why did you decide to come to Hogwarts this year and not the other years?" Nott asked as Harry watched the shadows of the Thestrals against the window for a minute.

"It was the Ministry that told me I had to come to Hogwarts this year," Harry replied. He decided that some truth wouldn't be too hard to give.

"Why?"

He thought of this question, trying to give a reasonable answer. "I got caught stealing a sum of money, and the man who I stole from turned out to be in the Law Enforcement. They looked into my records to see who I was… The next thing I knew they were sending an owl to ask Hogwarts if they would take me."

"How much money was it?" Dolohov asked. None of the Death Eaters seemed surprised by the story; in fact they seemed a little impressed.

"Probably a few hundred Galleons, I didn't check before they caught me."

"You don't sound very much like a Gryffindor much with that in mind," Lestrange commented. "How did you get caught?"

"My timing was off."

"Do you steal often?" asked Avery.

"Not unless I need to."

"Why did you need to this time?"

"There was an unexpected event, and I needed somewhere to stay, and money to do so," Harry replied in a monotone.

"Didn't you have any at hand?"

Harry was sure with this that the Death Eaters were never short of money. He supposed that it was their pureblood families who made sure that was possible in their lives. "No. I lost it all the night before I got caught."

The Death Eaters continued to ask Harry questions, but the carriage on which they were seated soon stopped at the entrance to the castle, so the answers they received had come to an end. They made their way to the oak front doors and Harry tried not to look out at the dark grounds that surrounded him, choosing instead to block some thoughts and seek the Professor he was told would be waiting for him. His eyes fell upon Dumbledore scanning the faces of the students. His beard was not quite as long as it was when Harry knew him, and its colour was auburn instead of the familiar grey, yet it was still Dumbledore. Harry could see his twinkling blue eyes even from the distance that he stood away from the Professor in the dim light spilling from the entrance hall.

When Dumbledore's eyes fell upon Harry he smiled lightly, and headed towards him. Harry had expected through habit that Dumbledore would come over to him and greet him as if he had known him for the last seven years of his life and more. But Harry then remembered that they technically hadn't met one another yet, and Dumbledore wouldn't have recognised him anyway. The Professor put out his hand for Harry to shake.

"Hello, Jonathan, I am professor Dumbledore."

Harry took his hand and shook it, looking into his eyes and trying to remember that he had to act like a new student. "Erm… Hello Professor."

Harry was still angry with Dumbledore, there was no doubting that, but sight of him here at Hogwarts, alive, and younger than ever before made Harry feel rather mystified. This felt like another dream, and he, Harry, was drifting slightly from his grasp on what was real and what wasn't. Dumbledore's x-raying eyes lingered upon Harry for a minute as he spoke.

"It is, as you know, rather unusual for us to have a new arrival at our school so late, but I'm sure that you'll be able to fit in just finely."

"Yeah, I hope so," Harry replied, not really knowing what he was saying. Dumbledore was here, alive, and this was the most bizarre situation.

There was a pause as Dumbledore looked down at Harry, and Harry could have sworn that he saw a small speck of curiosity cross the Professor's face. It wasn't as though he had read Harry's mind, as what usually seemed to be the case, it was more like something that he expected to be there wasn't after all… Harry looked away from his eyes. Even if Dumbledore had just used Legilimency, Harry's mind was too blank to have given anything away.

"Come then, Smith."

Harry followed Dumbledore, and they walked across the entrance hall and into the Great Hall. Harry was too familiar with the school to be awed at the beauty of it all, and he was also too unenthusiastic to be nervous about the fact that he had just walked into a hall full of chatting students who shot him glances and whispered when he was in their sight. Harry was far too used to this to even care. Dumbledore lead Harry up to the high platform where the teachers sat, and they both stood a little to the left of the centre of the space. Harry tried to look impassive as he recognised the Headmaster at once from the diary so long ago, getting up from where he sat to come and stand with Harry and Dumbledore. He smiled at Harry in welcome, and the Great Hall grew silent as the students waited for their Headmaster to speak. Dippet cleared his throat.

"Welcome back, students, to another year at Hogwarts. Now, as you all have probably noticed, there has been a slight change in our usual routine for the beginning of school year, so we are to be doing a quick sorting for our newest student – Jonathan Smith – before we sort the first years and begin the feast."

Dippet seemed to want to add more, but didn't have anything else to add, so he turned to Harry after a second and smiled again, nodding for him to try on the Sorting Hat that was awaiting on the three-legged stool. Sight of it from this angle made Harry remember the day he had first tried on the hat. He looked at Dumbledore who nodded for him to try it on too, and he walked forward. He placed the hat on his head and waited. The hat actually fitted him this time.

Then another thought came to his head, just as late as all the other important thoughts so far seemed to have come. If this were the same sorting hat that he had put on in his past, and the hat's future… surely when Harry was to be sorted at age eleven (to the hat's life), the hat would have already known who he was? Or perhaps the name Jonathan Smith would bring the trail off track for the hat's mind? Harry was relieved, suddenly, to know that the Sorting hat wouldn't be able to see his entire past, even if some important snippets of his life may be added in to show what Harry was like as a person. Harry heard it begin to speak to him as soon as he put it on.

"Interesting… I don't believe I've ever seen such a changed student before this. If I could take any of the courage you seem to have shown into consideration now, I'm sure that would be my ultimate answer… But you changed, my dear boy, more greatly than what I have seen in a while. It'll have to be SLYTHERIN!"

There came a satisfied murmur and series of cheers form the Slytherin table at this point, and Harry felt Dumbledore come and take the Sorting Hat off of his head. Harry was frozen, barely believing what had just happened, but Dumbledore indicated for him to leave for the Slytherin table now, and Harry had no choice but to go.

How on earth had that just happened? Sure, the hat had told him in his first year here that being a Slytherin was an option, but Harry had thought that after all these years, after all that he had done, he had proven himself to be more than worthy for Gryffindor.

He saw Avery, Nott, Dolohov and Lestrange looking at him as he made his way to the Slytherin table. Harry decided to go and sit with them, even if he didn't really want to. He was within a few meters of them, when he saw the very last person on this entire earth that he ever wanted to see again. Tom Marvolo Riddle. The Death Eaters had already started greeting him by the time he noticed Tom, so Harry could do nothing but try and look impassive yet again. He took a seat across from Tom slightly reluctantly, trying not to look at the leader of the Death Eaters just yet.

"I knew you'd pick the right house," smiled Nott. "See, wanting to join a house does hep."

Harry refrained from contradicting that theory again. "Yeah, I suppose it does…"

"It must have been all that stealing that put you in Slytherin," said Dolohov thickly. "Even that counts for the sorting."

"Probably."

"I suppose you'll have to care about which houses we do and don't like now," Avery commented with a smile.

Lestrange sneered quietly.

Riddle spoke next, directly to Harry. "My friends have just been informing me on all the tales you have told about yourself."

Harry couldn't refrain from looking at Riddle any longer, but he wanted to. He clenched his fist under the table to try and get rid of any anger that might show in his expression, and his eyes met Tom's. The only time that Harry had seen Riddle looking directly at him was when he was twelve years old, and talking to the memory that came out of the diary in the Chamber of Secrets. The boy who sat across from him looked exactly as Harry had remembered him, except he was a little older now, and perhaps had a darker air about his eyes. It didn't make him any less handsome though, in fact quite the opposite. Harry tried very hard not to think about all of that right now. He replied to what Tom said with pretty convincing efforts, "Have they?"

"Indeed." Tom surveyed Harry for a second in silence. "It seems odd that someone such as yourself would arrive at the school so late. Why come at all?"

"I had no choice," Harry replied, struggling to keep his voice even. "The Ministry couldn't think of anything else to do with me."

"You are seventeen, I believe? Why, then, did you not decide to tell them that you are technically an adult?"

Harry guessed by this point that Riddle wasn't going to give up his case until he was satisfied that he understood every important detail to work out what kind of person he, Harry, was. Harry supposed it was this form of curiosity and ever-so-slight paranoia that would make Riddle go so much further in ruling the Death Eaters and so on. Harry tried to answer the question simply, but he knew that Tom would only have more questions after this. He made a mental note to find a way of leaving this group of people by tomorrow. "I suppose they decided that I'd be better off at Hogwarts for my last year of education because from there I can make a more successful life or something. Find a job."

Riddle still continued to stare at Harry in a way that reminded him of Snape slightly. He soon continued asking questions. "Why didn't you come to Hogwarts before?"

"I prefer to learn at home… it's easier for me."

Harry suddenly realised, now that he was a tiny bit less disorientated with the sight of the boy in front of him, that Tom was wearing the same shadow of wonder that Dumbledore had just worn a few minutes ago… except this time it was mixed with something that looked like anxiety. Harry wondered after a second if Riddle could use Legilimency, so looked away. After this Tom didn't ask anything more of his past.

The sorting of the first years was over shortly after this time, and so the feast began. Harry wasn't very hungry, but he tried to eat something, to look normal to anyone who was watching him. Dippet stood up after everybody was finished eating, reciting more of less the same things that were always mentioned in the start of term feast, even though this was over fifty years earlier than Harry was used to. Then, at Dippet's command, there was a loud screeching noise as all the benches from the four house tables were pushed back, and everyone started to file out of the hall at their own pace, chatting away happily and smiling at the prospect of sleep after such a long day.

Harry followed the Death Eaters and Riddle down to the Slytherin Common Room while trying not to look like he knew where he was going. When they arrived along the corridor where the Common room should be, Riddle gave the password, "Machiavellianism", and they entered the room through the illusion of a wall. The Slytherin Common Room was just as Harry had seen it in his second year, with its low ceiling, decorations of green, silver and black, and high-set, barred-off windows giving a view into the great lake. Harry had walked on, thinking the Death Eaters right next to him, but when he turned around they were lingering a little behind the crowed. Harry didn't really mind being separated from them, but he thought that might be a bit too straightforward in stating how he didn't care to stay with them if he didn't show any sight concern. He turned back for a minute, until Riddle spoke.

"Go to the dormitories, we'll be there in a minute."

Harry was a little surprised, but supposed they had some important Death Eater topics to be discussing without him around. He turned and walked down the long Common Room without comment, and headed for the dormitories. It felt very unnatural for him to think of having to stay in this place for the rest of the school year. It was far more dark, damp and cold compared to the Gryffindor Common Room.

He found the dormitory from guessing mostly, and supposed that the bed with his trunk in front of it was meant for him. The un-neat square structure of the dormitory seemed so vastly different to the round tower bedrooms of Gryffindor. At this thought, Harry realised that he wasn't yet over the shock that he had somehow landed himself in Slytherin. It's your own fault, said a quiet voice in his head. Even Dumbledore said so, more than once. You are the only one that can be blamed for this.

Harry winced at these thoughts, and then decided to get changed into his pyjamas just for something to do. He looked down at the open trunk that laid on his bed, and thought about how unusual it was to not have his broom, shred of mirror and old Quidditch books that had always made into Hogwarts with him in previous years… But all and all those objects didn't really matter. There were more important things to do that play Quidditch or wonder about what a shred of mirror Sirius gave him might mean. There were many more important things to worry about.

The Death Eaters and Tom came back to the Common Room after a few minutes, and Harry said goodnight to them all shortly before closing the curtains around his four-poster and preparing for sleep – and the few hours of thought that filled the time until then. He couldn't believe how insane the last five days of his life had been. It had all gone by so quickly… The Battle of Hogwarts now seemed like some nightmare that never really happened, like another life he was divided from with that encounter with Dumbledore, and that creature… What on earth had happened there? If Harry only knew, he was sure this would all make sense again.

He was in 1944. He thought of that a lot, as if to start some spontaneous wave of realization, but none ever came. There didn't seem to be any reason for him to ever be in this situation. The only thing Harry knew, as he sat in this Slytherin bedroom, was that he had wanted to help that creature, or whatever it was. Dumbledore had said, "You cannot help" when he threatened twice to save whatever it had been. Why did he say that? Harry hadn't even known what that creature was…

Well, perhaps if Dumbledore hadn't yet again refrained from telling Harry something important, he wouldn't be here at all. This time, though, Dumbledore's lack of confidence in Harry's understanding hadn't caused Harry against doing something, but had provoked him into making the choice. Did that mean that he, Harry, was to be blamed again? That's what Dumbledore would say, that it was Harry's fault for not asking, or perhaps not working it out for himself quick enough. Harry glared angrily at the piece of ceiling he could see above his bed. He blamed Dumbledore again, no matter how much he didn't yet understand about this situation.

There was also the fact that he was here, in this year, this country, this school and this dormitory, with Tom Riddle. Harry couldn't comprehend how that had happened. All he knew was that Riddle would probably end up messing up any plans Harry made in the next few months. His encounter with the boy had been pretty brief, compared to what it could have been, though Harry knew that come tomorrow Tom would have a whole array of new questions to ask about Harry's life. Harry wondered again why both Tom and Dumbledore looked surprised earlier… but then another thought occurred.

Hadn't Tom already murdered his own father and grandparents by now? Yes, he would have to have done. He had also opened the Chamber of Secrets and killed Myrtle, and then blamed Hagrid for the crime. These thoughts stayed in Harry's for a long while, until he slowly came to the conclusion that Riddle must have already made a Horcrux – or Horcruxes. He was already Voldemort.

Not too soon after that though had arrived, sleep seemed to overrule Harry with a field of nightmares, before he could postpone them any longer.