Hours later, the Hogwarts express had arrived and most students had just assembled in the Great Hall. Only one student was still on his way.
Harry walked down the corridor to the sorting, his heart pounding, head spinning, and anticipation growing. The portraits, the statues, the corridors, and the ghosts all whipped past him as he walked through the castle like so many times before. But this time was different, and Harry swallowed as he contemplated what was about to happen. He was actually going to see his parents.
Slowly, he began to hear the roar of students. It got louder and louder until he turned the main corridor and spotted them: a group of little first years packed together before the double doors.
The air was suddenly filled with the hum of hundreds of people just a wall away. Harry was so close, he could feel it. He imagined the other side of this wall. The Gryffindor table from one end to the other, happy students sharing summer stories. James and Lily were there, Sirius was there, Remus was there. Even Dumbledore, sitting at the head table. Harry felt a pang of sadness as he realized this wasn't the ending to his story. He didn't belong here. But it didn't matter. He was here and this time was his.
Harry approached the group of first years and dozens of big eyes stared up at him as if he had sprouted wings.
"Who is he?"
"He's old!" They whispered to each other nervously and Harry couldn't help but smile down at them.
Professor McGonagall stood at the helm and eyed him carefully. She seemed about fifty years old, with fewer wrinkles and more trendy glasses, but the same stern demeanor. Her eyes were kind as she surveyed her charges. She held a parchment in both hands and explained the game plan. Little heads began to bob in affirmative and Harry shifted, the anticipation building.
The double doors of the Great Hall towered over them, and Harry took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself. Nervous hands adjusted his tie and instinctively went to flatten his hair before he realized—Harry Fletcher had straight hair. Feeling silly, he brought his hands down to his sides again. Would the doors never open?
Finally, Professor McGonagall turned to them. "They are ready for you."
The doors cracked open and the line of light that was the Great Hall grew larger until all of Hogwarts lay before them.
Harry's senses were bombarded with the sweet scent of cinnamon sticks and cloves, the jingle of the Hogwarts fight song, and hundreds of student's voices bouncing up the vaulted ceiling. Four long tables pointed north, each a different jewel tone and one table stood above them all. Dumbledore sat at the head, with teachers seated to his right and left. Slughorn, Flitwick, Binns, and more.
Each of the House tables was paired with a matching floating tapestry – maroon, blue, violet, green. Harry had eyes only for one, his eyes drinking in the sight.
Gryffindor.
Translucent candles floated above students' heads and the fire's ambiance was warm and welcoming. The golden tablecloth seemed to glow against maroon ornaments and students of all ages eagerly chatted to their friends of their summer adventures. Harry smiled. He was home.
At the first year's entrance, the students turned and whispered, excited to watch the sorting even as they fondly remembered their own. Just as Harry's eyes searched for familiar faces, Dumbledore rose and raised a jeweled goblet to the students.
"Welcome all, to a grand new year at Hogwarts." He said, his voice powerful and warm. "We would especially like to welcome our new first years. We are happy that you have arrived, safe and sound, as you are very dear to us. We will begin our day's events with a unique sorting, the likes of which have never been seen. This year, Hogwarts is privileged to host a transfer student. Students old and new, please welcome Harry Fletcher!"
The hall erupted in applause and every student turned to stare at Harry. Harry froze at the attention and his eyes skimmed over the few hundred students and stopped at the Gryffindor table. All he could see were heads of hair. Where were they?
Suddenly Professor Dumbledore was done talking. "Let the sorting begin!"
A prefect placed the stool and old grey hat front and center. Its sweet, baritone voice suddenly filled the hall, causing the first years to jump and look around for the source. Harry chuckled at their innocent and shocked faces as they identified it and the hat began its song. Harry returned to his search and his eyes went through the students. Only half of his mind registered the hat was singing. The rest of him focused on finding his loved ones.
Not you, not you, not you, not—
You. He found a familiar face. Time stopped and noise faded as Harry's eyes locked on someone he thought he would never see again.
Sirius, his mind whispered. His mind flashed back to his godfather, a man as haunted as he was handsome, and Harry tried to reconcile that with the teenager at Gryffindor table.
This Sirius had silky black hair that draped over strong shoulders, broad from hours of swinging beater bats; he had dark expressive eyes that were haughty instead of haunted and smiled with a naivety that Harry had never seen; he also didn't notice at all as Harry stared at him in shock.
Sirius leaned over to mutter something in another boy's ear and Harry recognized the next Marauder: Remus.
This Remus had light hair that brushed the top of his ear and sandy facial hair that would have made Ron proud. Mischievous eyes grinned as he replied to Sirius and Harry soaked in the lack of grey in his hair, the robes that actually fit, and the relaxed slope of his shoulders.
If Sirius hadn't passed a note to the next boy, Harry might not have noticed him. It took him a second to recognize the round boyish eyes and the shape of his mouth — but suddenly Harry did.
Peter Pettigrew.
The man who single-handedly ruined Harry's life. Harry fingered his wand and wondered if anyone would notice if he cursed Pettigrew's food to choke him. Harry's temper rose and he glanced away for a moment before deciding to move on. James and Lily must not be far away.
There was dark familiar hair sitting diagonally from Sirius, his back to Harry. Harry studied the back of the head. It must be James. Beside him was a girl with long, curled auburn hair. Her hand was on James' shoulder and she learned in closer. Lily. It was his mother! Now he just had to see their faces. He would have to wait until the sorting.
The table erupted in cheers and Harry realized the first girl must have been sorted into Gryffindor. He watched a sweet little blonde girl walk to the Gryffindor table and immediately be enveloped in hugs and high-fives from her new housemates. Now that was the Gryffindor Harry remembered.
"Abbot, Jacob." Professor McGonagall called. A dark haired boy walked nervously to the stool. He sat and gripped the edges of the stool like his life depended on it. A moment later—
"RAVENCLAW!" Exclaimed the hat and the violet table jumped to their feet in cheers and whistles.
The room seemed to grow in excitement and anticipation with every name and every sorting. The Slytherins boo'ed the sorting of a new Gryffindor and the Gryffindors boo'd the addition of a new Slytherin. The Marauders were very enthusiastic in this and Harry smiled. Nothing had changed. He just wished James or Lily would turn around, damn it!
Finally, the last first year joined the Hufflepuff table to loud cheers from his peers. Harry breathed. This was it. He was going to sit by his parents, he planned. He could see it, there was an empty—
"Fletcher, Harry!" said Professor McGonagall.
It was his time! Every student turned to look at the new transfer student. Harry wished he could stare at Gryffindor table, but he also didn't want to make a bad first impression by tripping and falling on his face, so he forced himself to look forward as he strode up the long aisle to the sorting hat.
His heart was pounding so loud he would be surprised if no one else could hear it. He sat nervously on the stool. In the same breath he spotted him.
James.
He was even more amazing than Harry had pictured. He looked so much like Harry. They had the same hair, though James' was a little longer. Same nose, same smile. James' jaw was broader, though, and Harry would bet he was taller. Tan, broad shouldered, toned, and as impressive as everyone had said he was. His eyes were grinning as he watched Harry curiously. Their eyes locked for one moment—green eyes met hazel and Harry's heart thudded in his chest, before James looked away. Harry was trying—and failing—to be calm. So many emotions flew through his mind and heart. It was his dad. He had only ever seen pictures of the man and now he was here.
And beside him—-
Lily.
Her smile was warm and friendly and her hair framed her beautiful heart shaped face. It was her. There were his green eyes. She was so young and for a second it blew Harry's mind how much could change in a matter of years. She was going to get married, have a baby, and die before her twenty-first birthday. If only they knew. But Harry could never tell them.
Suddenly the prefect placed the hat on Harry's head. Harry's hands were jittery and he rubbed his palms together. He struggled to keep his face blank as a voice filled his mind.
Ah – what do we have here? The hat said. A time traveler! The hat searched his memories. The chosen one! How fascinating. I have sorted you once before, I see. Pause. But of course, The Boy Who Lived was sorted into Gryffindor. Where else for the poster child of the light? However, you are no longer as light as you would have others believe.
Harry froze. Not because it was wrong but because it was the first to say it.
You seem so surprised. While most only see the surface, The-Boy-Who-Lived, I see everything. Every thought, every desire, every weakness. I have seen into the mind of every wizard and witch in Great Britain, yet none have intrigued me so much as yours. I will grant that you possess an extraordinary amount of bravery. That is why you fight, after all, even in the midst of this war. You are brave and above all you are good. But I also see that you have been hiding things lately. From everyone, and most especially from those you love. You want to win and you want to win so badly you will do anything to do so.
Harry's eyes narrowed. I only do what I have to.
Exactly. The hat said. And that, Harry, makes all the difference.
What are you saying? Harry demanded.
I'm saying you are no longer who you think you are.
No! I'm Gryffindor's heir. Harry stated. I pulled out Gryffindor's sword. It doesn't get more Gryffindor than this.
You were a Gryffindor once yes, but the war has changed you, Harry.
Wars tend to do that. Harry told it testily.
I must then amend my decision-
Harrys eyes widened. "Oh shit—"
I have to say—
Not Slytherin, not Slytherin—
"SLYTHERIN!"
The hats voice echoed throughout the grand hallway. The Slytherin table erupted in cheers. The Gryffindor's table booed, but there were only a few faces Harry cared about. James and Sirius booed the loudest of all, hands cupped in a megaphone. Harry's heart dropped and it suddenly seemed like he was watching his life through a glass. All of his carefully laid plans hung in the balance of this decision. He looked from table to table, and shook his head.
"No, I'm going to Gryffindor." Harry growled.
Whatever you say.
I'm not moving until you say Gryffindor!
This will be a long night, then.
They killed my family!
Not yet.
You're wrong!
I am never wrong, Harry.
"Mr. Fletcher!" Harry looked up into Albus Dumbledore's calculating eyes. "Please join your housemates at the Slytherin table." Dumbledore said.
Harry looked out into the student body. His blood ran cold. This was not the plan.
"Mr. Fletcher." Dumbledore said and though his voice was light, Harry understood he would not repeat himself again.
The students stared at him in confusion and the room suddenly became very quiet. Only Harry's breathing seemed to fill the hall.
Harry's mind raced through options. He could demand a resorting. He could go to the Gryffindor table anyway. He could talk to Dumbledore and insist that something had gone TERRIBLY wrong here and there was no way he could be in Slytherin. But he was supposed to be a transfer student, who shouldn't know anything. The hat had declared him a Slytherin. He had no choice but to join them or else risk his cover.
A pin drop would have exploded in the silence of the hall. He took the hat off his head and stood warily. Harry had a sudden desire to light the hat on fire, but he fought it and carefully placed the traitorous thing on the stool. Hundreds of eyes followed him as he began the walk towards the Slytherin table. The Slytherins applauded halfheartedly, accompanied by a few Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and the new Gryffindors who didn't know better, but no one knew what to make of this student who had refused the sorting hat.
Mutterings broke out across the hall as students began to speculate.
"Blimey, what took him so long?" "Doesn't look happy, does he?"
"SHH!"
Teenagers in green robes eyed him warily as he approached the Slytherin table. Following tradition, the students cleared him an opening with his year. Harry would rather they didn't. Familiar faces greeted him and Harry's fingers itched towards his wand. He sat down, jaw clenched, eyes down, as their faces filled his peripheral vision.
There were too many familiar faces.
At the head table, Dumbledore stood once more, cheerily trying to overcome the negative energy that no one understood. "Thank you everyone and congratulations to our students! And now, for the moment we are anxiously awaiting – bon a petit!"
Dumbledore clapped twice and food appeared on the tables. Roast beef, pork chops, lamb chops, boiled potatoes, mashed potatoes, gravy, carrots, peas, Yorkshire pudding, and an assortment of deserts. Harry even spotted flaming kiwi cups. Delicious smells filled the air and floated all the way up to the candles above. But not even flaming kiwi cups could help Harry now. The beautiful food seemed out of place next to such unseemly company.
Students began talking again and the hall buzzed with excited exclamations of 'pass the potatoes" and forks crashing on porcelain.
"Finally!" exclaimed a massive boy to Harry's right, whose neck was so thick it was the width of his head.
Across the table from Harry, a vivacious girl glared at a tall dark haired boy. "Thanks for the letters this summer, Rodolphus. I really enjoyed hearing from you."
"Oh, come now, Bell-"
Harry's eyes landed on the girl. She had wild, dark, curly hair and could have been beautiful if Harry hadn't known. He would recognize those eyes anywhere. It was Bellatrix Lestrange. A surge of hatred rushed through him. She had killed his last shot at family.
And the boy next to her. Tall, clean cut, handsome. He articulated every consonant like a boy in a speech contest. Harry knew the type. Pure blood and proud of it. Steel blue eyes smiled at Bellatrix and Harry tried not to vomit.
"I was busy! You know that-"
"Busy. You were on holiday!"
And two students to the left sat Harry's favorite person. The teenage Snape's inky black hair jumped around his pallid face and his hooked nose dominated his profile. Dark eyes studied Harry like a beetle about to be dissected but when he noticed Harry looking his direction, he looked away. Harry couldn't help remembering—
"Severus . . ." Dumbledore was pleading, the moonlight silhouetting him in the tower window.
Snape gazed for a moment at Dumbledore, and there was revulsion and hatred etched in the harsh lines of his face.
"Severus . . . please . . ."
Severus raised his wand and pointed it directly at Dumbledore.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Harry clenched his fists. This face was younger and less stressed, but it was the same.
Harry looked at the Gryffindors in frustration, then to Dumbledore. How could this have happened? The room felt wrong, like it was backwards, and every time he got a glimpse of his parents someone got in the way. He tried to ignore all the chatter around him (death eaters discussing holiday) and fingered his wand, ready to go if need be.
To avoid conversation, he served himself some dinner and borrowed someone's Daily Prophet. Harry quickly skimmed for news, trying to feel some resemblance of control over his life and trying desperately to ignore the faces around him.
There was nothing pleasant: 72 Dead and 30 Injured in Recent Death Eater Attack; 5 Ways to Keep Your Family Safe; All You Need to Know About You-Know-Who. Harry paused here.
A full-page color photo of Voldemort stared forebodingly up at Harry, but this wasn't the Voldemort Harry knew. This was a handsome man standing before a burning building, his hair well-groomed, his nose straight, his eyes handsome and dark. Harry felt a chill go down his spine. He had always wondered why so many pretentious purebloods followed the creep — now he knew. Voldemort was one of them. This was how Voldemort had risen to power. Here he was a charismatic leader that fought for a new world. Harry glanced up at his peers then across to his parents.
The feud here was more than just rivalry. It was war as soon as they graduated.
Harry's eyes lingered on the Marauders across the hall. He could see Sirius grinning widely as he spoke, gesturing broadly to laughter from everyone around him. Remus rolled his eyes beside him and Peter chimed in every so often. James and Lily had their backs to him (again), but Harry felt the photo in his pocket and knew their smiles were only a room away.
He just needed to get there. Harry pursed his lips, and then out of the corner of his eye, saw Snape move. Harry glanced over instinctively. The boy had loaded a heaping plate of dinner and was standing, his eyes eyes skittering from side to side as if he was afraid someone might see him.
What, was he afraid someone might steal his food? Harry thought vindictively, as Snape slid out of the Great Hall, shoulders hunched, himself invisible. Not a single student acknowledge Scape's exit. Harry wondered at that, but not very much. It felt like an eternity until Dumbledore stood to thank the house elves for another magnificent meal, Harry glared up at the bearded man. He and Dumbledore needed to talk. Dumbledore gave the start-of-term announcements before dismissing the students to their dormitories. The hall filled with the sounds of chairs moving and students rising.
Harry however, had one goal and shot to his feet as soon as he saw Dumbledore stand. The students around him stared. "I need to speak to the headmaster." Harry said, his eyes fixated on the old man. "I'll be back."
"Someone's in a hurry." A skinny blonde boy remarked snidely, his voice fading as Harry shot away from the Slytherins.
Honestly, this entire situation was ridiculous. Harry Potter sorted into Slytherin? The entire wizarding world would roll over in their graves if they knew. This was a mistake and Dumbledore would correct it. Harry spotted Professor Dumbledore dawdling on the stairs, surrounded by professors and students who lined to greet him.
"Harry, my boy!" Dumbledore greeted at Harry's arrival.
"Professor." Harry said urgently. He glanced around to see if any one else was in earshot before continuing. "There's been a mistake. I'm not a Slytherin."
"Aren't you?" Dumbledore twined his fingers together. "I'm afraid you're talking to the wrong person, Harry. You should be talking to the hat." Dumbledore gestured to the hat, which sat innocently on the stool.
"I did." Harry insisted. "It wouldn't listen!"
"Then perhaps you should listen." Dumbledore commented. "Perhaps you are more a Slytherin than you realize. And perhaps it will benefit more than just you if you join this exclusive community, if only for a little while."
"But Professor-"
"Why don't you go spend time with your house mates, Harry? They seem to have grown quite fond of you." Dumbledore gestured grandly towards Rodolphus Lestrange, Bellatrix Black, and the other seventh-year Slytherins, who were standing at the table some five meters away, talking amongst themselves and glancing at Harry in between. Harry looked at them, and then stared at Dumbledore incredulously.
"Don't you know who they are?"
"Of course I do! Now, why don't I introduce you to the Slytherin prefect." Dumbledore took Harry by the shoulder, gently, but firmly enough that Harry knew he was being steered, and quickly crossed the space between them and the Slytherins.
"Hello, boys." Dumbledore greeted jovially as they approached. The seventh years looked on warily, like a basilisk was saying hello, and Harry spotted the glittering prefect badge on Lestrange's breast. Harry's frustration at Dumbledore soared. What was he doing? Harry loved the man, but this moment was ridiculous. When Harry got back to his time—
"You have already met Harry, have you not?" Dumbledore said cheerfully.
"We've spoken, yes." Lestrange answered, his expression never changing. The other boys exchanged looks and the Slytherin on the right folded his arms, causing his biceps to bulge like water balloons. Harry briefly wondered how mortified this future Death Eater would be if he knew Harry had witnessed him flexing in high school. He and Harry met eyes by accident but the Slytherin played it off and looked past him instead.
"Ah, wonderful! Harry," Dumbledore turned to Harry as if telling him some great secret. "These are some of the best and the brightest of Slytherin house. You are in good hands."
Harry glanced skeptically at the group of Slytherin boys then despairingly at Gryffindor house. He had one fleeting view of James and Lily as they walked out of the Great Hall before they disappeared through the doors.
"Thank you, Professor." Lestrange said, the most cordial of the group.
"You are very welcome, Rodolphus. I entrust him to you! Don't worry Harry, they will take good care of you." The old man glanced at Lestrange and Harry knew Dumbledore well enough to spot the warning behind the twinkle.
"Of course." Lestrange assured him.
"Then I am off! Lots to do tonight, you see. Until next time." Dumbledore said as he sauntered towards Professor Slughorn. Leaving Harry alone.
Harry braced himself and wondered if the Slytherins had dark marks beneath their robes. He forced himself not to look.
"Old wanker." The one with the muscles muttered.
"Careful." Harry growled. Lestrange folded his arms, eyes flashing, and the big guy shook his head at Harry incredulously.
"What are you, Dumbledore's long lost son?" He demanded.
Harry met his gaze coolly. "He's your headmaster. It's called respect."
The Slytherin walked straight up to Harry and Harry instinctively fingered his wand. The guy wasn't so much taller than Harry as he was bigger. Broad shoulders shot out from a thick muscled neck, flanked by arms the size of Harry's thighs, but months of physical training this past summer had left its mark on Harry and while he wasn't as huge as the Slytherin, he wasn't bad himself. And years of fighting adult Death Eaters meant these miniature ones didn't intimidate him. He didn't break eye contact with the Slytherin and waited for him to make the first move.
"Dumbledore," The Slytherin spit out each syllable like it was dirt, "is an old fool."
"Headmaster Dumbledore," Harry corrected hotly, not breaking eye contact. "Is the most powerful wizard to ever live." It was a jab and the Slytherins knew it. Bellatrix Black reached for her wand, but her friend beat her to it.
"You little shit-" The big Slytherin growled, his wand appearing from nowhere. Harry glared at him evenly, daring him to start a duel in the middle of the Great Hall, with all the Professors watching.
"Mulciber." Lestrange said calmly. Harry tensed, recognizing the name. Mulciber didn't look at Lestrange, but his wand arm paused. Harry and Mulciber stood, face to face, as Lestrange stepped forward in between them, his face framed by nose to nose silhouettes.
"He's new." Lestrange continued, looking at Harry's like he was a toddler. "He doesn't know how things work around here." Harry's jaw tightened in tension, but Mulciber brought down his wand.
Harry turned his glare to Lestrange, who continued: "In the meantime, let's not waste our evening on a child who doesn't know his place."
If Harry's glare pierced Lestrange, no one could tell. Lestrange turned and strode out of the Great Hall, the others following one by one. Mulciber was the last to leave and he straightened as he moved, as if he wanted Harry to remember his size.
Harry was left standing alone in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, hundreds of students around him but completely alone.
A/N: Thanks for reading :) Don't forget to follow if you want updates! Next chapter coming next Sunday!