Disclaimer: If you know it, I do not own it.

Edited and reloaded 6 July 2013

The Final Sort

Draco took his seat at the Gryffindor table, glancing around at all the eager faces. Harry plopped down next him. Draco's and Harry's body language spoke of exhaustion, the opposite feeling the majority was exuding. Just remembering all the social events he'd been dragged to during the summer made him want to curl into a ball and scream. For some reason, being a Gryffindor at these events made them ten times more torturous.

Theodore Nott had been at each gathering, sneering and mocking Harry and Draco at every turn. One time Nott had charmed Harry's water goblet to melt, sending vibrant purple juice all over the white linens. Least to say, the hostess of the event was livid with The-Boy-Who-Spilled. Of course, Draco and Harry had gotten their revenge on Nott. With Atlanta's mental music catalogue, Harry's natural knack for mischief and Draco's potion brewing skills, they'd managed to get Nott to ingest a potion that caused him to sing the same annoying song any time he opened his mouth. Granted, no one other than Atlanta and Harry knew the song, but after three hours of Nott singing it each time he opened his mouth, everyone who socialized in the upper class wizarding society knew all the words to "Achy Breaky Heart."

Hermione sat down across from the boys, looking rather amused by their bleary expressions. Harry and Draco had fallen asleep on the train. Sheer exhaustion won out over staying awake for the train ride to school. Thus, there had been no Diary Plotting. Or socializing of any sort. Draco was honestly surprised when he jolted awake, he wasn't covered in hexes and curses.

"Lovely summer?" she asked as the students waited for the first years to show up.

Hermione and Draco had traded several letters over the summer before Harry had shown up and taken over his life. The last few weeks, he hadn't bothered to answer her letters, due to the fact he was "social" from morning till night.

Harry snorted. Draco rolled his eyes, allowing his head to drop to the table top.

"Well, it started off great. Draco's insane House Elf stole my mail and then tried to get me kicked out of school," Harry started. "Then his father showed up and scared my relatives senseless! That was awesome, even if Mr. Malfoy scares me."

"House Elf?" Hermione asked, bypassing the fear inducing father.

"He's, uh, a servant," Draco said carefully, slowly picking up his head.

In the past, Draco was sure Hermione had been vocal about House Elf rights, which made no sense, but it was useless telling her that.

"Draco said the thing meant well," Harry mumbled.

"He does! He loves you!"

Harry made a noise and rolled his eyes in disgust. Dobby was not Harry's favorite House Elf.

"Then, the summer was a never ending Parade Harry Around for the World to see!" Harry shouted, throwing his hands up in the air.

"So, what house do you think will be cursed with Atlanta?" Draco asked, hoping to change the subject. He'd heard Harry's rant on the social schedule too often to care to hear it again.

Harry, perked up a bit. "I hope she's in Gryffindor."

"I bet she's a Hufflepuff," Hermione offered. "She's super friendly. I met her on the train when I went looking for awake people to talk to. She was sitting with a Weasley and this really weird girl."

"There's someone weirder than Atlanta?" Draco asked.

"She wasn't strange," Hermione offered. "Atlanta. Not the other girl. She was reading a magazine upside down. And kept going on about Nargels. Atlanta was rather sweet, even if she broke out into song a few times. That was…odd."

Draco managed to stop himself from snorting as the doors flew open and McGonagall lead two lines of first years in. Hermione made a noise of irritation. She ought to have been at the Ravenclaw table, but there was no time to move. She remained at the Gryffindor table, tapping her finger.

"They came quicker than I thought," she remarked.

Atlanta was near the front, looking around with huge eyes. Draco glanced up at the enchanted ceiling to see it reflecting the night skies, stars and moon standing out. The moon wasn't full, but it looked larger than life in the midnight blue sky. Draco didn't pay much attention as the Hat sang it's dumb song. Harry looked dead on his feet, resting his head in his hand and his eyes going in and out of focus.

Who knew social events could be so draining?

"Where do Blacks usually go?" Harry whispered as the first named was called out.

"Slytherin," Draco said. "I'm pretty sure Sirius Black was the only one ever not sorted into Slytherin."

"Really?" Harry asked, looking somewhat interested.

Draco opened his mouth, but Hermione began talking.

"Really, do we need to hear your theory of Sirius Black being innocent again?"

Even with being the brightest witch in their year (or hell, the whole school), Hermione refused to entertain the idea that Sirius Black was innocent— no matter how many times Draco told her his theory and backed up his claims with lack of evidence against Sirius Black.

"No trail. Innocent until proven guilty." Draco put on his stubborn face.

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"He's never been proven guilty in a court of law," Draco reminded her as McGonagall shouted, "BLACK, ATLANTA."

The whole hall fell silent as Atlanta made her way up to the stool. Draco noticed Dumbledore staring at Atlanta, looking as if he was seeing a ghost. She turned and faced the whole hall, giving them all a haughty look, making her look every inch a Black. Neville made a high pitched noise and lost all the color in his face. Instantly, Draco realized who Atlanta was reminding Neville of: Bellatrix Lastrange nee Black.

"She's not, uh, related to…" his voice trailed off.

"Well, not very directly. She's American," Draco filled in.

"American?"

The word was whispered in a round as Atlanta sat down on the stool, squaring her shoulders and waiting as McGonagall plopped the Hat down on her head. The Hat covered her eyes, but you could still see Atlanta's mouth, which quickly quirked into a crooked smile. It left quickly, though, turning into a scowl worthy of a Malfoy.

Atlanta balled her fists and for the next fifteen minutes seemed to be having a rather heated argument with the Hat. Her mouth dropped open and she gasped in shock, leaping up and tearing the Hat off her head. She threw it on the ground.

The whole hall gasped.

"I have never—"

She didn't finished. She pursed her mouth tightly, her lips suddenly vanishing into her face. She was doing a very good impersonation of Professor McGonagall, who was wearing the same expression.

"Miss Black, what is the meaning of this?" McGonagall demanded.

Dumbledore looked concerned.

Draco watched Atlanta take a few deep breaths before regaining her composure. It was almost as if she'd taken off one mask and put on another. She turned towards McGonagall and said rather steadily, "The Hat and I had a disagreement, ma'am."

A low drone of whispers broke out among the students while the teachers all seemed to be at a loss. Dumbledore appeared perplexed. He stood up, easily moving around the long Head Table and picked up the ratty hat. He jammed it on his own head, right over his ugly, bright orange pointed hat, and proceeded to pace back and forth in front of the school while he conversed with the Hat. After a tense ten minutes, he removed the Hat, looking — if this were possible— more baffled.

"Miss Black, you seemed to have befuddled the Sorting Hat," Dumbledore remarked, sounding rather amused, even if he didn't look it. "It is tired of sorting you. Each version of you is too different for his liking."

Atlanta frowned as the whole hall began to mutter. Dumbledore plopped the Hat back on her head and stood there while Atlanta had battled with the Hat for another ten minutes. She stomped her foot a few times. She threw her hands up in the air and scowled. She began shaking her head, folding her arms across her chest stubbornly.

Draco tried not to laugh. He chanced a glance at Harry, who had witness this pass summer how headstrong Atlanta could be when she wanted. Harry looked like he was about to burst into a fit of giggles. This might have been on by his near exhaustion, or the fact it was somewhat amusing the fact Atlanta was fighting with an object.

"SLYTHERIN!" the Hat shouted.

Harry gasped, as did Draco. Hermione's mouth dropped open.

"YOU PUT ME IN RAVENCLAW LAST TIME!" Atlanta shouted, pulling the Hat further down on her head and moving away from McGonagall, who was trying to take it off her head.

"YOU ARE NOT HER!"

Draco felt his blood freeze. The other Atlanta. The one he'd accidentally sent back in time when he'd sent himself back had been in Ravenclaw?

He could see it. The Atlanta wearing the Hat at the moment? Not so much.

"YEAH, BUT I'M NOT THE OTHER ONE EITHER!"

The other one? Draco frowned and something slithering into his mind, coming to the surface from a long forgotten time.

1943.

The Hat had said the timeline began changing in 1943. How had Atlanta gotten to 1943? Was it the one in front of him or the other one? Maybe Atlanta the First didn't die in the seventies, but had gone to 1943?

Time travel was confusing.

"CHANGE YOUR MIND!"

"I WILL NOT CHANGE MY MIND."

"YES, YOU WILL."

"NO, I WILL NOT."

It explained why Dumbledore had been so pale and shocked when Atlanta had walked in. He had seen her before. Maybe he was trying to figure out which one she was as well, having been at the school in 1943 and in the late seventies.

"I WON'T GO."

"YES, YOU WILL."

Atlanta threw the Hat off and stomped on it before picking it back up and slamming it on her head. McGonagall tried to remove the Hat from Atlanta's head, but Dumbledore stopped her.

"Let her get it out of her system," Dumbledore said quietly. Draco got the strangest feeling that the Hat had told Dumbledore about the time traveling Atlanta Black and it hadn't made him happy.

"It's in our choices!" Atlanta suddenly shouted. "Choices! Not whatever is in our heads!"

She was quiet for a moment.

She snorted.

Then she laughed.

Finally she looked pleased with whatever the Hat was now saying inside her head.

"GRYFFINDOR."

Atlanta plucked the Hat off her head and handed it to a stunned McGonagall. She pivoted on her heel towards Dumbledore and said, "The Hat requests I stop time traveling to Hogwarts. Do you know why it said that?"

"A story for another day," Dumbledore said faintly. "Now, Miss Black, if you'd take your seat."

"Sure thing, sir," Atlanta agreed.

The Gryffindor table burst into applause as Atlanta walked towards the table. The Weasley twins grabbed her before she got too far, pulling her between them. In the chaos, Hermione dashed off to the Ravenclaw table.

"You have to tell us what you did!"

"I've never seen anything like that!"

Atlanta laughed, but looked bewildered.

After catching Draco's eye, Harry burst out into loud laughter. Then he fell head first into his plate. Draco picked him up by his hair.

"Why are we both still tired after napping for the whole trip?"

"Naps kill," was Harry's answer. "Anything longer than twenty minutes isn't a nap and it ruins your sleeping patterns or something."

Draco raised an eyebrow and let go of Harry's hair. Harry propped his head in his hand and promptly fell back asleep. Draco struggled through the rest of the Sorting (where the Hat sorted everyone without problems) and made it through dinner before he dragged Harry out before pudding. The pair of boys got the password off Prefect Weasley (Draco silently swearing he'd learn the boy's name) and headed off to the quiet dorm where they fell into their beds and surrendered to another eight hours of sleep.

The first day of classes was nothing to write home about. Atlanta had promised her dad she'd write though, so she was debating on what to include in her letter while Draco and Harry both bickered like old women over what to do with the Diary of Doom. Draco was twitchy, as he always was around the diary. It was as if he feared it'd reach out and bite him. Harry, meanwhile, looked curious. His brilliant green gaze drifted to the nondescript black book and lingered. For some reason, Atlanta got the impression the Diary of Doom was speaking to Harry. She shifted her vision for a moment so she could see magic clearer. Mr. Remus had taught her how to do it so she wouldn't be overwhelmed in a place as magical as Hogwarts. When she'd first started seeing magic a few years ago, each time she visited her father at work, her eyes grew sore and her head hurt from a visual magic overdose.

The Diary of Doom was still oozing Dark magic. It eked out, swirled around and back into itself. She studied it carefully then glanced back at Harry. His scar oozed the similar magic, though not as concentrated.

It was odd. Atlanta knew she wasn't old enough to pick out different wizard and witches magics, so for all she knew the two weren't related.

Atlanta cleared her throat and shifted back to normal vision.

"So, what are we going to do with this book?" she questioned, looking between the boys.

"Give it to Dumbledore," Draco offered.

Harry stared at him in confusion. "Why?"

"He's headmaster. He'll dispose of it."

"Why?" Harry asked again, looking somewhat angry. "Why destroy it? It's just a blank book."

"Who are you and what have you done with Harry Potter? This book is evil!" Draco hissed, his face pinching. "You destroy things that are evil!"

Atlanta stifled a giggle, as Draco looked like an angry ferret when he made that face.

"Remember what happened last year when we ran to the teachers? None of them believed us," Harry said, crossing his arms across his chest. He gave Draco a challenging look. "I bet Dumbledore will take one look at that book and think we're insane. Remember what Snape did when Hermione told him exactly what we were going to do to Quirrellmort?"

Draco shifted, frowning deeply. Last year, they had somehow exorcised the spirit of Voldemort from the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Draco claimed it was because he didn't fancy playing chess when she'd questioned him.

Draco wasn't any good at chess.

Though, she didn't understand what chess had to do with anything.

"I bet he'll look at this book and will believe us," Draco insisted. "Atlanta said it was oozing with Dark magic. I have no doubt Dumbledore will be able to feel it."

"How does it even open the Chamber of Secrets?" Harry asked. "You've never told us."

Draco deflated. Draco had been acting rather off kilter ever since his eleventh birthday. Atlanta had been somewhat scared he was going to snub her when he went off to the glorious Hogwarts School, but instead he kept in touch. And brought along a brand new friend in the form of Harry Potter of all people. This summer, when not being paraded around by their parents, he actually played with her. Draco never used to play with her. He always called her childish and frivolous when she'd want to just be a kid.

Draco also used to hero worship his father. Now, it was almost as if he could not stand the sight of the man. (The feelings seemed to be mutual.) The other odd thing was he put up with his mother's smothering behavior as if he had missed it last summer.

Then, this summer Narcissa wasn't smothering at all.

Yes, there was something rather strange about the Malfoys.

Atlanta loved it.

"How about this— we'll do what your bookish friend always wants to do: research. I can see the magic in this book. It's…dark, but…I don't know. Let's hold on to it. I agree with Harry. Let's figure out what it does exactly and once we have solid, well researched proof we can go to the professors!"

Ah, compromise.

Harry looked excited. Draco deflated further.

"You've been spending too much time with Mr. Remus," Draco muttered, glaring darkly at her.

Atlanta smiled at Draco sweetly.

"I agree with Siri," Harry quickly said, smiling largely. "We can tell Hermione tomorrow at breakfast. I bet she'll love this. You know how she loves researching a problem."

Harry jumped to his feet and hurried to get his school bag, as even though it was the first day of classes, he had homework. Atlanta took the diary, tucking it into her book bag. It did not look like Draco was going to take it and they both knew Harry was bound to do something silly if he had it.

"Whatever you do, don't write in that book," Draco warned, pulling his own homework out of his bag.

"Why ever not?" Atlanta asked, half serious.

"I don't know. It makes sense," Draco offered.

Shrugging, Atlanta went back to trying to figure out what to put in her letter to her father. She figured she ought to leave out the Hat's insistence she stop time traveling. Though, she might tell her father about the fact the Hat claimed his name was Sherlock.

A/N: If you would like to see how the Sorting Hat came up with his name, see chapter 19 of Over the Rainbow.