Harry was sitting on the couch in the Gryffindor common room and he read his quidditch magazines, while checking the outside world every few minutes or so. He was quite bored, and his mind wasn't on the quidditch magazines. He was thinking of how weird it was to get into another universe and he was making a plan.
In his dueling training back at the Island, he had learnt one thing at least, always have a plan. Even if it is duck and run, or jump the other dueler and go for a suicide attack, always have a plan. Never be lost like a boat with no sails. That lesson was learnt the hard way for Harry.
His plans were quite simple, because he liked simple plans. In dueling he had found that simple plans work, and they probably worked in real life too. His simple plan was this:
Get stronger by training hard and using rituals, and meanwhile have fun with quidditch, and school, and other children…
…and girls.
He knew that while he had a lot of experience with muggle girls, he never had any experience with witches. He had never 'dated' or 'picked' up girls. It was mostly (with imperio, consentual) rape.
He was excited about that and wondered what the witches looked like and what they could do. He felt heat rising up to his face, and blushing he threw away the quidditch magazine and jogged a bit around the room to get rid of his wood.
It steadily darkened outside. And then… what he was waiting for. The portrait door at the entrance of the common room opened and Professor Minerva McGonagall walked in, her black hair tied in a bun, a stern mouth on a stern wrinkled face, with black eyes that held fiery stubbornness and properness.
Harry felt instant dislike. He hated 'order' and people who never liked to have fun, like… Snape, or Malfoy, or even Voldemort. People who can't have any fun because they are so focused. The best way to duel, he had found through experience, was to be relaxed and perfectly calm. It brought lucidity, and faster reflexes as well.
Relax, he mentally urged McGonnagall.
"Mister Potter," She said. "The feast is going to start. I expect you down to see the sorting." Her voice was like iron.
"Err sure." Harry said. He didn't know who she was exactly but at a guess (from Fawkes's descriptions) he thought it was Minerva McGonagall, the stern transfiguration teacher.
Fakwes had told him many things about Hogwarts including all the teachers, some of the students in Gryffindor and the people his previous self knew in other houses… Slytherin.
Malfoy.
The bully.
Longbottom.
The stuck up prick.
Harry couldn't wait for a confrontation. His raging warrior blood demanded it. He thought he was descended from a long line of Scottish fighters… but he wasn't sure about that. He liked history to a point, about the same as he liked all reading, witch was zero.
He guessed it was though because as he followed McGonagall he itched for a duel. He hadn't gone without a duel this long since he was about five years old. The last duel was 24 hours ago! That was ridiculous.
Life long habits are hard to get rid of it. He wanted to duel, simple as that.
----
He seated himself with the other Gryffindors, at the far end of the table. There were so many people around. He was a bit shocked and overwhelmed. Luckily nobody tried to talk to him.
Rose's words came back to him… "He doesn't have any friends."
That made him sad. He never had friends in this life and in the other life either. His physical needs were provided for but his emotional heart was crippled forever it seemed because he had no desire to make friends either.
The babbling stopped as Dumbledore raised his hands from the teacher's table where all the teachers sat. Harry recognized Snape at once from his greasy hair and the scowl on his face.
At least there was one familiar face, even though Snape was the least favorite of his death eaters. Oh well, that was life.
"Today at Hogwarts, we are going to have a special ceremony that comes by only once a year. The sorting!"
There were many cheers and whoops of joy from the older students, the twins in particular who seemed to cheer at anything.
Harry noted them uncomfortably.
Dumbledore raised his hands again, and like trained dogs the students stopped cheering. Harry already felt an instant dislike at everyone in the room. Did they have to be so loud? And what was this sorting?
Fawkes had said nothing about this. What happened here?
He was wondering when McGonnagal led a long line of scared looking firsties to a little stool. On the stool rested a torn up black hat. The kids lined up.
Then the hat opened its mouth,
And let out a roar of fire that surprised everyone, even Dumbledore. Its folds showed eyes and a mouth and the mouth started speaking,
"TIME SLOWED AND REALITY BENT,
AND ON AND ON THE EGGMAN WENT,
TIME STOPPED AND REALITY POPPED,
AND ON AND ON THE EGGMAN WALKED,
BEWARE FOR YOUR LIVES DEAR STUDENTS,
WE HAVE A VILLAIN IN OUR MISTS,
WITH PAINFUL IRON FISTS,
YET VILLIANS CAN BE MADE PURE GOLD,
THROUGH FIRE, CONTESTED, LIKE ALWAYS OF OLD,
VILLAINY VILLAINY WHAT THOU SPEAKEST ,
OH VILLAINY WHAT THOU CHOICE YOU MAKEST?
BEWARE STUDENTS, OF THE EGGMAN,
WHEN TIME SLOWED AND REALITY BENT,
ON AND ON THE EGGMAN WENT."
All around Harry eyes blinked. Harry himself turned white with something like fear and horror. What seemed like random babble to other students made sense to Harry. Around him he saw Dumbledore hastily scribbling the poem on an old sheet of parchment with what looked like a ballpoint muggle pen.
Harry conjured a pad and a paper and scribbled the same thing as well. Why did the sorting hat call him the eggman? What did that mean?
He didn't know, but this was the sorting hat it seemed.
McGonnagal looked visibly shaken, while Ron Weasley muttered loudly enough for the whole school to hear, "The hat's lost it!"
Then McGonnagal grabbed a hold of herself and started calling out names…
"Adam Poyuisly… "
And the sorting hat sorted everyone. It was rather boring actually, but Harry's mind was still on the sorting hat's song. What did fawkes tell the sorting hat?
Did Fawkes talk to the sorting hat?
He didn't know.
Frankly, he tried not to care but that was a lie, he did care. He cared about what kind of magical objects knew he was a villain… and an eggman? Honestly what was an eggman?
Harry wondered… and he knew he would find out soon. He didn't know how he knew, he just knew that was it.
He knew.
-----
Then Dumbledore made a speech:
"OOGLY MOOBLY BOOGLY BOO! LET THE FEAST COME THROUGH!"
And millions of gold plates appeared on the tables, all filled with assortments of foods that made the kitchen breakfast look like bread and water. Harry dug in viciously. He always did like food.
------
After the sorting feast Dumbledore made a second more coherent speech.
"This year," He started, "Quidditch is canceled. How about an applause?"
"What? This can't be!"
"Are you mad!"
"Dumbledore's a crackpot old fool, now we have proof!"
Amid cries of disbelief by students, Harry was shocked. No Quidditch? Darn.
"This year… we are going to have something even greater!"
"What is it?" They asked.
"The TRIWIZARD tournament!"
And then… the door of the great hall flung open, and mad eye Moody walked in, from the storm outside. His real eye darted left and right, but his fake eye was firmly fixed on Harry Potter. He walked up to the teachers table and whispered a few words to Dumbledore. Then he sat down.
'Everyone, say hello to our new defense against the dark arts professor… Alastor Moody!"
There was a few polite clapping but no big cheering. Harry knew – and he assumed other people knew – Moody.
Moody like all the teachers he had seen so far, he took an instant disliking to.
"Damn, what a-" Harry muttered to himself. Why was Moody here? Moody hated him, he was the Mr. Unforgivable guy, right.
Moody was a good auror in his old world, but here he seemed to be retired. Damn damn damn damn. Moody would keep an eye on him like Sherlock Holmes. Harry would have to…
…eliminate Moody.
----
"What do you mean? Triwizard Tournament?" The crowd said, something like this.
"Yes, Triwizard Tournament. The first one in over hundred years. As such, Quidditch is canceled."
Damn again, Harry thought. I just never can win, can I?
"We are going to start the triwizard tournament this October where we will pick our champions. The three schools that are competing are: Drumstrang, Hogwarts, and Beuxbatons."
There was cheering, mostly from the Slytherin when they heard about Drumstrang. The ravenclaws cheered the hardest when they heard Beuxbatons. The Gryfindors and Hufflepuffs cheered the loudest when they heard Hogwarts.
Harry blinked.
Why was there so much cheering?
If he ran this school it would be dueling all day, twenty four seven. That was the only thing that mattered any how.