Disclaimer: This is very boring, but I don't own Harry Potter. -.-
Thank you Mae Silverpaws2 for the review :) I hope the reduced appearance of treacle tart makes you happy ;) It's mentioned a bit, but only where I felt it couldn't be avoided. I hope this is satisfactory...
Of course, Harry reasoned, nothing would be easy for him. Harry had spent most of the afternoon in Diagon Alley with Hagrid of all people. It all would have been very déjà-vuish if not for the fact that nobody seemed in awe of him. Which was fine by him; the more people that didn't stumble over themselves in awe, the happier he was.
No, the problem started when dinner time came. Dumbledore introduced him merely as a new student, and, when given his name, the students had gasped, intrigued both by his obvious Potter looks and the link to his name. The stares he received as he walked to where Professor McGonagall stood with the Hat were eerily reminiscent to the stares he had endured at his first sorting. However, the rest was not.
So, back again are we? The familiar voice of the Sorting Hat spoke to him. I see that you convinced me not to put you in Slytherin last time- or is that next time? The Hat mused thoughtfully. Hmm, it's a good thing I don't often get time-travelers. You muddle things that are already difficult. Harry rolled his eyes, an action that, in retrospect, was possibly not the wisest. Hmph. Not putting you in Slytherin was probably for the best then, but now, well. It's not like it really matters now, is it? Harry tensed, not sure he cared for the direction this seemed to be taking. Surely the Hat wouldn't put him in Slytherin just to satisfy some strange whim of its own? The Hat cackled (aloud, which was more than a bit disturbing for their audience...), and answered him merrily. I would actually. I can only imagine the amusement you shall provide me. A chorus of horrified "no's" rose in Harry's mind. Now, be sure and visit me every once in a while. I do look forward to hearing about your sojourn in SLYTHERIN!
Harry's first thought was that maybe now was a good time to practice fiendfyre. His second was of Oh, shit! and his third was that at least the Slytherin table had a good bit of treacle tart even if it wasn't the highest thing on his list of priorities just now.
He sighed and made his way to the table that had, in the far distant future, stood as one against him. He sat himself at a part of the table that was, for the most part, utterly deserted. Flicking his fringe back with a careless hand, Harry piled his plate high with food. He was almost halfway through when it dawned upon him that he was being stared at with open malevolence. Not that this was particularly surprising, but he had thought he would at least get the chance to annoy somebody in person before that happened. As it was, he looked up and towards the main part of his new House table to find a thin, pale face framed with oily black hair and black eyes that glittered at him with a strangely knowing irritation.
Harry swallowed the lump of potatoes he had been eating, and numbly picked up his pumpkin juice to wash them down with. It was absolutely impossible to think that Severus Snape had been sent back as well. Of course, if he had (dead and obviously occupying his original teenage body), than how and why were the most prominent questions on Harry's mind.
So distracted was he by the thoughts this conjured, that when the strange form of Snape as a teen dropped with un-teenage grace next to him, well. Harry bloody well shrieked, his nonexistent reputation saved only by the fact that Snape had had the presence of mind to perform a muffliato.
Snape regarded him with flat eyes. "Do you realize that I have been in this absolute hell-hole of a place since waking up in the Hospital Wing two years ago to find that, no, I wasn't dead, but that I had the rather dubious honor of regaining my teenage years?" Snape growled. "Not only have I managed to keep the whole damn thing a secret, but I've had to endure, listen to me Potter! Endure, all over again, your father's damnable pranks and that damn mutt's stupid taunting. I say endure, Potter, because I could hardly hex them to the extent I wanted, knowing how things must turn out, and, seeing them as stupid, idiotic teenagers like the rest of the dunderheads I've had to teach over the years, I, most unfortunately, find myself pitying their loathsome hides simply because I know how they die!" Snape's left eye developed a twitch that drew Harry's horrified fascination. He drew a fortifying breath. "Only to find, Potter, that you had somehow managed to land yourself back in time with me, and you BLOODY WELL DIDN'T HAVE THE DECENCY TO KEEP YOU BLOODY TRAP SHUT!" He slammed a fist onto the table, glaring at Harry more venomously than he ever had as an adult.
Harry cringed slightly, casting a nervous glance around him to make sure the muffliato continued to be in effect. It was, but that was somehow not very comforting.
"Erm, well, you see-" He didn't get very far before Snape cut him off.
"No." Snape snarled. "I don't bloody see."
Harry's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Now see here, Snape. We both had shitty childhoods and I very much appreciate everything you did for me in memory of my mother, but you can at least hear me out. Did it ever occur to you that whatever has the power to send us back like this, might very well be doing so for a reason? And since no world-ending catastrophes have happened yet, I suggest you relax." Harry sniffed disdainfully and turned back to his potatoes. He considered them for a moment and then shrugged, instead heaping his plate with a choice amount of desserts.
"Furthermore," he added around a mouthful of heaven, "Dumbledore agreed that my hypothesis was a valid one, so perhaps you should have approached him yourself and come to the same conclusion." He swallowed and pointed a fork at the former Potions Master who regarded the instrument with some wariness. "You should try to enjoy life this time." Harry turned back to his dessert with relish. "Merlin knows we both deserve it."