The Orb of Umbra
Chapter Two:
The Sorting Ceremony
Harry landed on
his feet with a soft and barely audible thump. He opened his eyes and gave a
strangled cry. He was staring at himself. A much younger version of
himself. Harry's eyes darted quickly around, taking in his surroundings. He was
in the Great Hall, and it looked like the Sorting Ceremony was taking place.
There was a long line of people Harry recognized as his own friends, five years
younger. No one seemed to have noticed his sudden entrance. Of course,
Harry thought. This is just like Riddle's diary, and the Pensieve. It's
just a memory.
Harry
watched this younger version of himself, waiting to be sorted. He laughed to
himself at the nervous and awkward look on the younger boy's face. People were
stepping out of line, trying on the Sorting Hat, and dashing madly to their new
house table. He watched as Draco Malfoy went of to Slytherin, his head held
high; Hermione was sorted into Gryffindor; all these students he knew so well,
looking so young and, in most cases, innocent. Before so many things had
happened to change their lives forever…
Harry was beginning to grow impatient, until – "Potter, Harry!"
Harry recognized Professor McGonagall's voice resonating throughout the Great
Hall. The younger boy walked forward nervously, Harry in tow. Harry stood next
to himself as the Sorting Hat was jammed onto his younger self's head. Harry
had just begun to think to himself that he wished he could hear what the
Sorting Hat was saying to him, when a voice he knew all-too-well echoed in his mind.
Hmm,
difficult. Very difficult. Plenty of courage, I see. Not a bad mind, either.
There's talent, oh my goodness, yes – and a nice thirst to prove yourself, now
that's interesting…So where shall I put you? Harry remembered this
conversation very well indeed. But what he didn't remember was the next voice
that passed through his mind. His own, although much higher. I don't
care…just put me somewhere so all those people stop staring at me… This
surprised Harry. This wasn't like him at all. The voice of the Sorting Hat rang
through his head again. Oh ho ho! You have spirit, boy. Yes indeed! You
remind me of a young man I met about 50 years back…Well then, if you're sure, I
think it had better be SLYTHERIN!
The last
word rang throughout the Great Hall. Harry watched, looking just as shocked as
half of the students and teachers in the Hall, as the younger Harry made his
way to Slytherin table, struggling to ignore the looks he was receiving from
all corners. Younger Harry chose a seat next to Draco Malfoy, who, under his shocked
expression, looked slightly pleased. Harry stood near the head of the Slytherin
table, watching the events with a half-dazed expression. He, Harry, a
Slytherin? It just didn't seem right. Is that where the Sorting Hat would
have put me if I hadn't wanted to be anywhere except Slytherin so badly?
Harry felt the familiar tugging at his head, and the last thing he saw before
he was pulled into the swirling fog was Draco patting him on the back and
welcoming him to Slytherin house.
***
OK, OK, sorry
for leaving it like that! I know the chapters are short, but it's going to be a
short story anyways. The next part will probably be the longest one. I'm
projecting this to be about five chapters, so in the next two chapters I'll
cover the events from the first 4 books, and then wrap it all up in the fifth
chapter. At this rate it'll be done by the weekend *cheers*!
And if by some
weird fluke you guys actually enjoy my stories and want to read more
stuff by me, don't fret! I have a few ideas stirring around in my head, and
I've been using my history class to write bits and pieces of them. (Put me on
your AuthorAlert list if you wanna know when they come out *hint, hint*.)
Alright, that's it for now! Please R&R but be nice and don't flame.
Constructive criticism is the way to get things done, people! The key word
there is constructive.
Oh, and if
anyone is wondering, 'umbra' is the Latin word for shadow, so the title
basically means the Orb of Shadow. It is kind of evil, isn't it? Poor Harry. Oh
well, don't you worry! Every story has a happy ending (at least the ones I
write do!)