"First years! First years over here!"
Harry practically lead the way over to the familiar voice, a trail of scared first years behind him as they made their way down a steep narrow path through the trees.
"You'll get your first look at Hogwarts in just a mo'." Hagrid called, and Harry was glad for the warning.
The children around him let out a collective 'ooooh' and he had to agree. The castle was magnificent, perched atop a high mountain on the other side of the black lake, its windows sparkling in the starry sky. Harry couldn't help but think back to the last time he had seen it, under attack from Death Eaters, the turrets destroyed, walls collapsed and floors covered in blood.
He managed to clamber into a boat with Ron, Ernie and Justin, staring up at the castle as they began moving across the water. The crowd to carried him up the passageway and into the Entrance Hall, and his throat constricted as he looked around and peered into the great hall, memories battering their way through his head. So much destruction.
He barely heard Professor McGonagall's welcoming speech, focusing on not losing it and breaking down right there in the Entrance Hall.
"How do they sort us?" Hermione asked.
"Some sort of test, I think." Ron replied. "Fred said it hurts a lot, but I'm pretty sure he was joking."
Harry had to hide a smile. It was a tradition that no new first years knew what was coming in the sorting ceremony, he wasn't going to break that now. They would find out soon enough. "I'm sure he was just being mean." His smile grew when several people around him shrieked as the Hogwarts ghosts appeared through the wall to their right, and before he knew it Professor McGonagall was back and leading them into the Great Hall.
As they walked up towards the staff table, Harry tried not to think about the bodies that had been lying right where students were now sitting, about which of the giant stained-glass windows had been smashed, about how only a few hours ago to him but many years in the future the excited babble of students was replaced with crying and screaming and that horrible horrible silence.
"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted." Professor McGonagall said, and Harry tore his eyes away from the hourglasses, the gemstones that counted the house points safely enclosed in the glass and not littered over the floor. "Abbott, Hannah!"
And the sorting progressed. The first years around him fidgeted nervously, fearfully waiting their turn.
Harry ignored the whispers and stares when his name was called. It was nothing new. They were curious children, nothing more.
Professor McGonagall placed the hat on his head, and Harry was suddenly struck with the thought that he really didn't want the sword of Gryffindor to land on his head and knock him out as the fabric settled over his eyes.
"Oh my." The sorting hat exclaimed into his ear. "Goodness, such ambition. And loyalty, almost to a fault. There's bravery too, my goodness. Ooh you are a difficult one." Harry grinned. Some things never change, then. "Oh, but what's this? You've done this before. But that's not possible… ahah… how interesting. Ooh this is a new one for me."
You don't get many time travellers then? He thought cheekily.
The hat chuckled. "I have to admit, Mr. Potter, that you're my first. Did Gryffindor suit you well the first time?"
Well enough. Harry replied with a grin.
"Oh but this drive, the determination you have, the resourcefulness. That's an awfully ambitious plan of yours, to change the future. And such a sense of justice and fairness. Where oh where to put you?"
In response, Harry thought back on the memory of him pulling Gryffindor's sword from the hat. Said hat gave a small chuckle.
"You're sure? I daresay you're right. But really you'd fit in any of the houses. Well, I hope you make the best of GRYFFINDOR!"
Harry heard last word shouted out to the hall, and pulled the hat off to thunderous applause. He made his way down to the familiar table, receiving pats on the back and handshakes as he sat down. The Weasley twins had started up a chant of 'We got Potter! We got Potter!"
The final few students were sorted, and Harry whooped and cheered when Ron was pronounced a Gryffindor, resolutely avoiding looking up at the high table. His chest tightened when Dumbledore stood up, the candlelight glinting off his silver beard. Less than 6 more years…
No.
That was why he was here. To stop all the bad from happening.
The feast appeared on the tables and Harry's stomach gave an almost comically loud growl. He had spent the past months living off scavenged mushrooms and berries, and tins stolen from shops, and his 11-year old body was malnourished from living with the Dursleys. He eagerly helped himself to a huge roast chicken dinner with all the trimmings, pocketing a mint humbug. Everything was as delicious as he remembered, possibly better.
Harry let the conversations wash over him; Hermione chatting with Percy about lessons, Sir Nicholas talking about his botched execution, Fred, George and Lee planning back-to-school shenanigans, Neville and Seamus discussing their parents, a group of studious sixth years already complaining about their increased workload this year. He was still resolutely looking anywhere but the staff table, unable to look at Dumbledore or Snape or Hagrid or Quirrell. Looking around at the students wasn't much better (they were all so young) but he had already vowed that none of them would die this time around. He would save them.
Finally, finally Dumbledore stood up, and the students fell silent. Harry didn't need to listen to the announcements. The forbidden forest was forbidden. No spells or fanged frisbees in the corridors. Talk to hooch about joining the quidditch team. They were the same every year, and Harry was only glad that this year's out of the ordinary request was stay away from the third floor and not that dements would be roaming the grounds.
The load scraping of benches preceded students standing up and leaving the great hall, and Harry joined the back of the crowd of first years that followed Percy up to the Gryffindor common room, trying desperately not to think of the last time he had walked through these halls and the way that wall had been rubble and that suit of armour in three mangled pieces. Nobody noticed how quiet he was, too tired themselves as they trudged up staircases to Gryffindor tower. Harry helped Neville through the portrait hole, and didn't wait for percy to tell them which was their dorm, muscle memory taking him up the stairs to the door with 'first years' written on. He collapsed on to the bed he had called his for six years, the exhaustion of being on the run and battling death eaters and dying and reliving his first trip on the Hogwarts express finally catching up to him. He was asleep before the others even reached the room.
