Author's Note: thanks to all my reviewers. Just to clarify a few points, I
think Dumbledore can't be more than fifteen years older than Voldemort,
because in Chamber of Secrets, when Riddle shows Harry what happened, his
hair is still described as auburn. If he was more than fifty, wouldn't it
be showing gray? I know someone said the name Jamieson has been used
already, but I'd be surprised if it hadn't been. It is the obvious name -
James's son - and I thought it fitted Dumbledore's sense of humor quite
well.
At last, after long hours of waiting that seemed to Harry like years, six o'clock came round. Harry went down to the Entrance Hall, and watched silently and solemnly as the students came pouring in out of the Thestral drawn carriages, through the chill of the evening and past him into the Great Hall. They were in tight, chattering huddles that seemed, unintentionally he sure, to exclude him from their lives and their knowledge. He felt Ron and Hermione's absence keenly - they were the first friends he'd ever known, and this would be the first time he'd ever had to face a school year without them.
"Jamieson?" Harry spun around to see Professor McGonagall standing behind him, carrying a scroll on which was inscribed the names of all the students to be sorted. She looked a lot younger than in Harry's time (well, duh, she is twenty years younger) and wore her hair loosely tied back rather than pulled up tightly into an austere bun that did nothing for her looks.
"Yes, Professor, that's me."
"I am Professor McGonagall: Head of Gryffindor house and Professor of Transfiguration. The headmaster tells me that you are to be Sorted?"
"Yes Professor."
"And you are to be in the sixth year, correct?"
"Yes Professor."
"Very well, when the first years arrive, we will go into the Great Hall. You will be Sorted first."
Harry watched impatiently as Hagrid, his old friend the gamekeeper guided the crowd of bedraggled first years through the huge doors. They all looked very young and innocent compared to how weary and aged Harry felt. Some of them looked terrified. Then, maybe Voldemort hadn't affected their lives yet. A few of them looked curiously at the tall, dark haired boy standing behind her like a shadow, but most didn't even notice he was there.
Professor McGonagall introduced herself again and led them all through to the Great Hall. It was an impressive sight, especially the first time, Harry conceded. The first year boys and girls were gaping around like mindless idiots at the ceiling, the candles and the other students, but all of these were familiar sights to Harry now, although he'd been as stunned his first time. He was far more concerned about the Sorting itself. The Hat sung its song - the usual introduction to each of the four houses, there was nothing unusual there - and the Sorting began.
"We have a new student in the sixth year starting at Hogwarts. Jamieson, Harry."
Harry bit his lip to calm himself down, stepped composedly forward, sat down on the little stool and pulled the Hat down over his eyes.
:Hmmm, from the future eh? You can't hide that from me, Potter, much as you were trying, and your occlumency won't help you here, not that you're at all bad at it. I won't be telling anyone, though, so your secret is safe. So I put you in Gryffindor before, but wasn't sure. Yes, that feels right from what is here in your head. At the time I believe you would have done supremely well in Slytherin, but you have changed greatly since then. Now, there is really no choice to make, you're definitely.:
"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat yelled out. The students at the house tables applauded and Harry breathed out, greatly relieved by this. He went over to the merry Gryffindor table.
"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?" he asked a brown haired boy who appeared around Harry's own age.
"Sure," the other boy replied. He looked vaguely familiar, but Harry couldn't quite place him. "Remus Lupin, I'm in sixth year. These are James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, all sixth years."
"Pleased to meet you," Harry said, finding himself unable to smile as he would have liked to as his habit of solemner expressions kicked in. "I'm Harry Jamieson, but I guess you already knew that really, after the Sorting."
"Where are you from, then?" James asked. "We don't often get new entrants this late on I don't think."
"I . uh. a school down in Cornwall, it's really small, I'm sure you won't know it - I mean, no one does."
"Shh," Remus hissed at them. "The first years are being Sorted now." The other boys grinned indulgently at him, and Harry looked at them curiously while they turned they attention back to the Sorting.
James did look unbelievably like Harry himself did - he could easily understand why so many people had remarked on it, now that he'd had a good chance to see him close up at practically his own age. Of course, James had hazel eyes, not green like Harry, still wore glasses and had no scar. Even so, Harry reckoned they could have passed for twins with very little effort.
Sirius looked amazingly different from the godfather Harry had known since his third year, far more like the smiling, happy man Harry had seen in his parents' wedding photos, standing by them like a pillar of support. In his own time, it was clear that the many years in Azkaban had taken their toll on him. He had long silky black hair, and a mischievous smile was already playing about his features.
Remus looked much more like Harry had always known him to, no surprises there, just a lot younger. In Peter, Harry could see a huge change. This was the timid, slightly plump boy who'd been one of his father's best friends, not the gaunt, corrupt, haunted man who'd caused his death, and almost Harry's own.
When the Sorting ended, Dumbledore stood up to say a few words.
"There is, as you all know now if you were listening, one new student in the 6th year, Harry Jamieson. James Potter, I'd like you to help him find his feet."
"Yes Professor," James said, somewhat startled, although Harry wasn't, knowing the teacher.
"Now, I'm not sure how much good this is going to do any of us. Still, I'd like to inform the first years and remind those of you older students who should know it by now," James was smirking at this, "that the Forbidden Forest is STRICTLY OUT OF BOUNDS to all students. On the retirement of Professor Rushwood, Professor McGonagall has accepted the post of deputy headmistress in addition to her other duties. That's all, so tuck in everyone and make it a good year for all of us at the school."
There was a loud cheer, and the food appeared magically on the table. Harry attacked it eagerly. When they'd done, James said,
"We'll take you up to Gryffindor tower with us Harry, ok?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Oh, and Remus?" the other boy looked up. "Hadn't you better go help to herd the first years upstairs? You're a Prefect remember, and that is your job."
Remus rolled his eyes, wishing it had been James landed with the job, but went to help the other Gryffindor prefects round up the ten new first years that had been put into their house and guide them up to the common room and dormitories.
At last, after long hours of waiting that seemed to Harry like years, six o'clock came round. Harry went down to the Entrance Hall, and watched silently and solemnly as the students came pouring in out of the Thestral drawn carriages, through the chill of the evening and past him into the Great Hall. They were in tight, chattering huddles that seemed, unintentionally he sure, to exclude him from their lives and their knowledge. He felt Ron and Hermione's absence keenly - they were the first friends he'd ever known, and this would be the first time he'd ever had to face a school year without them.
"Jamieson?" Harry spun around to see Professor McGonagall standing behind him, carrying a scroll on which was inscribed the names of all the students to be sorted. She looked a lot younger than in Harry's time (well, duh, she is twenty years younger) and wore her hair loosely tied back rather than pulled up tightly into an austere bun that did nothing for her looks.
"Yes, Professor, that's me."
"I am Professor McGonagall: Head of Gryffindor house and Professor of Transfiguration. The headmaster tells me that you are to be Sorted?"
"Yes Professor."
"And you are to be in the sixth year, correct?"
"Yes Professor."
"Very well, when the first years arrive, we will go into the Great Hall. You will be Sorted first."
Harry watched impatiently as Hagrid, his old friend the gamekeeper guided the crowd of bedraggled first years through the huge doors. They all looked very young and innocent compared to how weary and aged Harry felt. Some of them looked terrified. Then, maybe Voldemort hadn't affected their lives yet. A few of them looked curiously at the tall, dark haired boy standing behind her like a shadow, but most didn't even notice he was there.
Professor McGonagall introduced herself again and led them all through to the Great Hall. It was an impressive sight, especially the first time, Harry conceded. The first year boys and girls were gaping around like mindless idiots at the ceiling, the candles and the other students, but all of these were familiar sights to Harry now, although he'd been as stunned his first time. He was far more concerned about the Sorting itself. The Hat sung its song - the usual introduction to each of the four houses, there was nothing unusual there - and the Sorting began.
"We have a new student in the sixth year starting at Hogwarts. Jamieson, Harry."
Harry bit his lip to calm himself down, stepped composedly forward, sat down on the little stool and pulled the Hat down over his eyes.
:Hmmm, from the future eh? You can't hide that from me, Potter, much as you were trying, and your occlumency won't help you here, not that you're at all bad at it. I won't be telling anyone, though, so your secret is safe. So I put you in Gryffindor before, but wasn't sure. Yes, that feels right from what is here in your head. At the time I believe you would have done supremely well in Slytherin, but you have changed greatly since then. Now, there is really no choice to make, you're definitely.:
"GRYFFINDOR!" the Hat yelled out. The students at the house tables applauded and Harry breathed out, greatly relieved by this. He went over to the merry Gryffindor table.
"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit here?" he asked a brown haired boy who appeared around Harry's own age.
"Sure," the other boy replied. He looked vaguely familiar, but Harry couldn't quite place him. "Remus Lupin, I'm in sixth year. These are James Potter, Sirius Black and Peter Pettigrew, all sixth years."
"Pleased to meet you," Harry said, finding himself unable to smile as he would have liked to as his habit of solemner expressions kicked in. "I'm Harry Jamieson, but I guess you already knew that really, after the Sorting."
"Where are you from, then?" James asked. "We don't often get new entrants this late on I don't think."
"I . uh. a school down in Cornwall, it's really small, I'm sure you won't know it - I mean, no one does."
"Shh," Remus hissed at them. "The first years are being Sorted now." The other boys grinned indulgently at him, and Harry looked at them curiously while they turned they attention back to the Sorting.
James did look unbelievably like Harry himself did - he could easily understand why so many people had remarked on it, now that he'd had a good chance to see him close up at practically his own age. Of course, James had hazel eyes, not green like Harry, still wore glasses and had no scar. Even so, Harry reckoned they could have passed for twins with very little effort.
Sirius looked amazingly different from the godfather Harry had known since his third year, far more like the smiling, happy man Harry had seen in his parents' wedding photos, standing by them like a pillar of support. In his own time, it was clear that the many years in Azkaban had taken their toll on him. He had long silky black hair, and a mischievous smile was already playing about his features.
Remus looked much more like Harry had always known him to, no surprises there, just a lot younger. In Peter, Harry could see a huge change. This was the timid, slightly plump boy who'd been one of his father's best friends, not the gaunt, corrupt, haunted man who'd caused his death, and almost Harry's own.
When the Sorting ended, Dumbledore stood up to say a few words.
"There is, as you all know now if you were listening, one new student in the 6th year, Harry Jamieson. James Potter, I'd like you to help him find his feet."
"Yes Professor," James said, somewhat startled, although Harry wasn't, knowing the teacher.
"Now, I'm not sure how much good this is going to do any of us. Still, I'd like to inform the first years and remind those of you older students who should know it by now," James was smirking at this, "that the Forbidden Forest is STRICTLY OUT OF BOUNDS to all students. On the retirement of Professor Rushwood, Professor McGonagall has accepted the post of deputy headmistress in addition to her other duties. That's all, so tuck in everyone and make it a good year for all of us at the school."
There was a loud cheer, and the food appeared magically on the table. Harry attacked it eagerly. When they'd done, James said,
"We'll take you up to Gryffindor tower with us Harry, ok?"
"Yeah, sure."
"Oh, and Remus?" the other boy looked up. "Hadn't you better go help to herd the first years upstairs? You're a Prefect remember, and that is your job."
Remus rolled his eyes, wishing it had been James landed with the job, but went to help the other Gryffindor prefects round up the ten new first years that had been put into their house and guide them up to the common room and dormitories.