Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

by The Power of Erised

The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son. OOC-ness. Re-posted under new name as the old one wouldn't allow new posts.

7. An Odd Sort

Harry Potter and the Spirits Within

Chapter 7: An Odd Sort

Summary: The night Lily and James Potter died is well known. What no one suspected, or even imagined, was that their spirits remained with their son.

Disclaimer: As much as I would love to own (or live in, magic rocks) the 'Potterverse' … I do not.

A/N: I'm sorry for the overly long wait, I had finished this chapter and was about to load it when I accidentally saved over it and lost the whole thing, so I had to re-type it. I have had several questions about Hermione, I didn't have Harry and Co. meet her on the train because the reasons for her going into Harry's compartment were no longer there. Harry found Trevor for Neville, so she wasn't looking for him, and Draco befriended the two boys, so she had no reason to enter their compartment to tell them off for fighting. She will, however, be one of Harry's friends, I plan for him to have many more than just the two he had for half the series.

A/N II: one of my readers pointed out that Harry had already met McGonagall and Dumbledore, so I went back and fixed that lil flub. Thanks again Keronshara.

Draco, Neville and Harry had passed the remainder of the trip to Hogwarts together, alternating between conversation, laughter and a comfortable silence. It was Draco who noticed that the train seemed to be slowing, confirmed by the fact that the countryside was no longer streaming by. Figuring it was about the right time, they had barely shed their jackets before a disembodied voice echoed through the train, "We will be reaching Hogsmead Station in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train; it will be taken to the school separately."

Harry grinned in anticipation and the two boys mirrored him. The friendship was new, but the fact that they were in the same boat had eased most of their nerves. The last of the sweets, candies and pastries disappeared in to Harry's trunk. Arc was returned to her habitat, and was accompanied by Trevor. Shrinking his trunk and pocketing it, he joined the mish mash of students in the corridor, shuffling his way towards the exit, stumbling out onto the tiny, barely lit platform. There was no wind, but still, tendrils of chill seem to wisp around him, sucking the warmth from the gaggle of children Harry recognized as the rest of the first years.

Out of the darkness, a lamp flared to life, illuminating a giant of a man, who seemed to be more beard and hair than actual face. His voice was a deep boom, like a cannon firing, that grabbed and held their attention more than his words ever could, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here! C'mon, follow me — any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling, they followed the large man down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harry thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. "Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o' Hogwarts in a sec," their guide called over his shoulder, "jus' round this bend here."

There was a loud, "Oooooh!"as the narrow path opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" the huge man called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harry, Neville, and Draco were followed into their boat by a nervous looking bushy-haired witch. "Everyone in?" he shouted, filling a boat by himself. "Right then — Forward!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled the walking mountain as the first boats reached the cliff; they all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening in the cliff face. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle, until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they climbed out onto rocks and pebbles. They then clambered up a passageway in the rock after the massive man's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge, oak front door. "Everyone here?" the immense man raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.

As the castle doors opened, Harry caught sight of a magnificently large cavernous room. Then Harry saw who had opened the doors; when he had been staying at the Leaky Cauldron, she had been the first of the Heads of House that Dumbledore had sent. Attempting to sway him with his parent's antics in their school days and feeling certain that Harry would follow them into her house.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said the giant man.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here."

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was lit by torches; its ceiling was so high it was barely visible. There was a wide marble staircase opposite them, double doors to their right, and smaller doors scattered about. As they were led across the flagstone floor to one of the smaller doors off to the left, Harry's attention was caught by four massive hourglasses; filled, not with, sand, but with gemstones as big as his fist. The first glass held innumerable fire red rubies, the second contained cobalt blue sapphires, within the third were forest green emeralds, and the fourth possessed golden yellow citrines.

Professor McGonagall left them in a small room after delivering a speech that his parents quoted along with her, word for word. Harry, Neville, and Draco were chatting about what they needed to do to be sorted. This was one of the things his parents had remained tight-lipped about; saying only that it was tradition for the 'firsties' not to know. They scoffed at the Weasley boy telling a sandy-haired boy that his brother told him they have to wrestle a troll, which is – although Harry won't admit it, comforting in its own way, "Maybe it's a quiz, like a survey or something. They ask us stuff about ourselves and figure out where to put us from there." Harry suggested.

"No, that would take way to long." Draco replied, "Perhaps it's a spell they perform, and you turn the color of your house."

Harry and Neville nodded, thinking this plausible, "yeah, or we could put our names in a goblet or a hat or something and it spits it back out according to house, kind of like the cup from the Tri-wizard Tournament."

Draco nodded at this suggestion, but Harry was lost, "What's the Tri-wizard Tournament?"

He was on the verge of getting an answer in stereo from his friend and his parents, when the bushy-haired witch they'd shared their boat with joined them, "It's a competition between the three most prestigious schools in Europe. They each have a champion to fight for the school in three tasks and the champions are chosen by The Goblet of Fire. I read about it in a book about this school, Hogwarts: a History. I tried to find something on the sorting but they purposefully left out any information on it. My name is Hermione Granger, by the way. No one in my family is magical at all; it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, though it did explain all the odd things that had been happening when I was growing up, thank you for letting me share your boat with you."

Draco and Neville seemed to be in shock after this little spiel. Truth be told, Harry was too, but he had parents to bail him out, or his mother at least. "Poor dear, she must be terrified. She's doing the same thing I did when I first got here. Never knowing about magic until you get this strange letter, and then whisked away to this mid-boggling place where everything is new and different and you have no one to help you through it. I remember after my little rant was ill-received I didn't speak to another person, aside from the professors, for an entire week; I was so lonely until I became friends with Alice, Neville's mother."

Harry, in a fit of compassion, held out his hand to the young witch. Wanting to prevent her from going through what had happened to his mum. Her features lit up and she smiled broadly, revealing rather overlarge front teeth.

"This is Neville Longbottom, Draco Malfoy," each boy nodded as he was introduced, "and I am Harry Potter." He finished.

Oddly enough, her eyes did not flick up to his scar, though they did attempt to widen to the size of galleons. "You're Harry Potter? I've read about you, you're in several books."

Harry acted shocked –even though he'd read a great deal about himself during his summer studying – more to give Hermione and the rest a topic of conversation, to hopefully enlarge his circle of friends. Neville and Draco nodded confirming what she says, "What do they say about me?" he asked, even as his father mocked him about being a touch too snake like for his own good… whatever than meant.

"They mainly talk about what happened the night you defeated You-Know-Who." Neville answered.

Harry frowned at this, "I didn't defeat Voldemort." The three of them gasped and flinched, and he decided to nip this in the bud immediately, "What?"

"No one says his name; we just say "You-Know-Who" or "He-who-Must-Not-Be-Named"." Draco answered.

"His followers called him The Dark Lord." Neville added in a soft whisper, and Harry nodded, well aware that it could not be an easy topic for his friend to talk about.

Then Harry scoffed, "That's ridiculous, and I'm not going to be afraid of saying the name of a man who's been basically dead for the past ten years. Anyway I didn't defeat him, I was the only known survivor of that night, and no body was recovered. There is no proof that he is dead, and I'm not going to be caught off guard if he does return. Out of respect for others I won't say his chosen name in public. But I'm not calling him by those absurd titles. I'll call him," he paused for a moment to run through names with his dad, "The Dork Lord, He-Who-Must-Be-Hyphenated, or Moldy Voldie. I can't think of a good substitute for You-Know-Who yet."

His three new friends looked at him with a mixture of incredulity and amazement; never had they heard someone talk of the most evil wizard of their time with such blasé disrespect. They were saved from formulating a response by a scream from the back of the room. Some twenty-odd ghosts had just glided through the back wall. They were talking amongst themselves, apparently oblivious to the students milling about in the room, until one of them, a portly monk by the looks of him, took notice.

"New students!" said the ghost Lily identifies as the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely, "Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," a sharp voice said. "The Sorting Ceremony's about to start." Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall, "Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

The four of them joined the line of students and headed back across the entrance hall to the double doors Harry had seen earlier. The room on the other side of those doors was, in two words, absolutely breathtaking. Thousands, possibly more than a hundred thousand candles floated in midair over four long tables, where the rest of the students were seated. These tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up here, so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Harry's eyes were drawn upward and he sees a velvety black ceiling dotted with stars. Hermione leant over and whispers, "It's bewitched to look like the sky outside. I read about it in than book, Hogwarts, a History."

Professor McGonagall silently placed a four-legged stool in front of the first years. On top of the stool she put a pointed wizard's hat. This hat was patched and frayed and extremely dirty. For a few moments, nothing happened. Then the hat twitched, ripped open on one side, and began singing a song about the qualities of the different houses.

"Oh, you may not think I'm pretty,

But don't judge on what you see,

I'll eat myself if you can find

A smarter hat than me.

You can keep your bowlers black,

Your top hats sleek and tall,

For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat

And I can cap them all.

There's nothing hidden in your head

The Sorting Hat can't see,

So try me on and I will tell you

Where you ought to be.

You might belong in Gryffindor,

Where dwell the brave at heart,

Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff,

Where they are just and loyal,

Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,

if you've a ready mind,

Where those of wit and learning,

Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin

You'll make your real friends,

Those cunning folk use any means

To achieve their ends.

So put me on! Don't be afraid!

And don't get in a flap!

You're in safe hands (though I have none)

For I'm a Thinking Cap!"

The whole hall burst into applause as the hat finished its song. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

Professor McGonagall then stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

A pink-faced girl with blonde pigtails stumbled out of line, put on the hat, which fell right down over her eyes, and sat down. After a moment's pause —

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

The table on the right cheered and clapped as Hannah went to sit down with the Hufflepuffs. Harry saw the ghost of the Fat Friar waving merrily at her.

"Bones, Susan!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat again, and Susan dashed off to sit next to Hannah.

"Boot, Terry!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

The table second from the left clapped this time; several Ravenclaws stood up to shake hands with Terry as he joined their ranks.

"Brocklehurst, Mandy" went to Ravenclaw too, but "Brown, Lavender" became the first new Gryffindor, and the table on the far left exploded with cheers; Harry could see Weasley's twin brothers catcalling.

"Bulstrode, Millicent" then became the first Slytherin.

The Slytherin table was more self-possessed than the rest of the hall, but they applauded cordially for Millicent.

"Finch-Fletchley, Justin!"

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

Sometimes, Harry noticed, the hat shouted out the house at once, but with others it took a little while to decide. "Finnigan, Seamus," the sandy-haired boy next to Weasley in the line, sat on the stool for almost a whole minute before the hat declared him a Gryffindor.

"Granger, Hermione!"

Hermione almost ran to the stool and jammed the hat eagerly onto her head.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat. Hermione waved to Harry, Neville, and Draco, before heading to her table.

"Longbottom, Neville!"

The hat took a long time to decide with Neville, but it finally shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!" and Neville waved to Harry and Draco as he went to the Gryffindor table.

Draco stepped forward when his name was called and gets placed at once: the hat barely touched his head when it shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

He headed to the Slytherin table after waving to Harry, looking pleased.

There weren't many people left now. "Moon"…, "Nott"…,

"Parkinson"…, then a pair of twin girls, "Patil" and "Patil"…, then "Perks, Sally-Anne"…, and then, at last —

"Potter, Harry!"

As Harry stepped forward, whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

"The Harry Potter?"

The last thing Harry saw before the hat dropped over his eyes was the hall full of people craning to get a good look at him. Next second he was looking at the black inside of the hat. He waited. "Well, well, well." said a small voice in his ear. "What have we here, Lily Evans and James Potter?"

Harry's fingers gripped the edges of the stool in panic, "Don't tell anyone. Please, we don't want anyone to know!"

"Ah, you mean you don't want Dumbledore to know." said the small voice. "Don't you worry dear boy, the old coot is dipping his quill into too many inkwells as of late … get your mind out of the gutter James Potter, you know what I mean. Anyway, I would be delighted to pull the wool over his eyes for once."

"Thank you, err, Mr. Hat…"

"Call me Sortie, I was given that name by one Xenophilius Lovegood years ago and took rather a liking to it. Now where to place you, you are quite well rounded for an adolescent, no doubt due to your parents influence, you could fit in any of the houses really. Well, I've placed your other friends in separate houses, perhaps you four can finally bring my houses to a unity that hasn't been seen since the Founders days. To that end you shall be in – HUFFLEPUFF!"

Harry heard the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. He took off the hat and walks toward the Hufflepuff table. He was so relieved to have Sortie play along and not tell Dumbledore, he hardly noticed that he was getting the loudest cheer yet. A boy who introduced himself as Cedric Diggory got up and shook his hand warmly.

Harry sat down opposite the Fat Friar. The Friar pat his arm, giving Harry the sudden, horrible feeling he'd just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water. Shaking off the feeling, Harry looked down at his empty golden plate.

"Bit ostentatious, don't you think?" He mentally asked his parents.

"Actually, they used to be silver, but they had to change them the year we came to school." James replied.

"Really? What for?" Harry asked.

"That year, a boy came to the school that had an illness that was affected by silver. He was the kindest, smartest boy I knew. His name was Remus Lupin and he was, and still is, a werewolf." James said solemnly, a rare emotion for him.

He could see the High Table properly now. There, in the center of the High Table, in a large golden chair, sat Albus Dumbledore. He was looking at Harry with a combination of surprise and disappointment; apparently he didn't want his little savior in Hufflepuff. Dumbledore's silver hair was the only thing in the whole hall that shone as brightly as the ghosts. Harry looked back to the few remaining first years and had to bite his tongue to keep from bursting into laughter. The Weasley boy was staring at him with a mix of horror and defeat.

"Aww seems he finally realizes who he was insulting on the train, so much for trying to worm his way into your circle of friends." James laughed.

"We don't know for certain that he was told to do that, though that expression leaves little doubt." Lily replied.

Now there were only four people left to be sorted. "Thomas, Dean," a tall black boy, joined Neville at the Gryffindor table.

"Turpin, Lisa," became a Ravenclaw, sitting next to Hermione, and then "Weasley, Ronald". After a few moments the hat shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry felt bad for Neville as Ronald Weasley gave him a contemptuous look and sat next to one of his twin brothers. Finally the last first year was called and "Zabini, Blaise," was made a Slytherin, joining Draco.

A/N: Well there you have it; the poll ended with a tie between Ravenclaw and 'Surprise Us', so I decided to surprise you all. Hopefully no one minds his placement too much; oddly enough Gryffindor got the least amount of votes. Any suggestions on a derogatory variation on You-Know-Who would be very welcome. I don't want to use U-No-Poo as that seems like I took it from Gred and Forge. Most hilarious one will get recognition in the authors' notes and my profound thanks.