History Repeats Itself

by Starry-eyed dreamer86

"If History Repeats itself, and the unexpected always happens, then how incapable must man be of learning from experience." George Bernard. Generations have passed, and the story of Harry Potter and Voldemort is now only a boring history lesson. But the thing about history is; it has a habit of repeating itself.

3. The Hat's Warning

Sorry this took so long, but here it is, chapter three yay!

Also, I would like to note that there is a reason I write fiction and not poetry, so try not to hat too much on the awful attempt at the hat's song:/

Hope you enjoy, and I only own what my own mind creates.

~The Hat's Warning~

The air on he platform smelled like trees and train, an unusual combination that made Arabella's nose twitch. Conner, however inhaled deeply, and sighed. "Smells like home," he said dreamily. "Well, minus the lingering smell of smoke."

Arabella giggled.

"Someone's calling for us."

Indeed they were. It was a tall, dark-haired girl with a golden patch that Arabella could make out in the half-light above a shining badge that looked larger and more important than Anabelle's prefect badge. They pushed their way through the crowd of older students-who grumbled every time they were bumped- and to the front of the first years gathering around.

"Is that everyone?" the girl asked, craning to look for stragglers. "All of the first years?" There was a low murmuring and everyone looked around at the other first years, but no one spoke up to account for someone missing, so the girl said, "Okay, good. I am the Head Girl, and he's Head boy," she gestured to her companion, a boy wearing a Ravenclaw patch. "We are here to prepare you for the next part of your journey."

"You mean you'll be taking us up to the school?" asked a gangly boy with a mop of thick, light brown hair.

The Head Boy winced and glanced at his companion who gestured for him to answer. "Well...no."

"No?"

"It is Hogwarts tradition for the groundskeeper to escort the first years to the school."

"Okay, so why aren't we talking to a groundskeeper?" demanded a raven-haired girl with her arms crossed.

"We're here to take you to where you will meet the groundskeeper," the girl explained. She exchanged a glance with her companion, then added, "and also to prepare you for what you will meet when you get there."

"You see," the Head Boy started before the first years could begin asking questions. "Wick is, well- he's Wick. He means well, but he comes off a little."

"Odd," the Head Girl finished.

"Odd?" Arabella repeated under her breath, glancing sideways at Conner. Several others were doing the same, and the night air became charged with uncertain whispering.

"Just listen to us and you should be fine," the Head Girl told them. "First of all, don't be offended by his expression, it's just the way he always looks."

"And don't try to have a conversation with him," the Head Boy added. "Not many can do that in the first place, much less of bunch of first y-ow!" The Head Girl had kicked him.

"Also, don't be offended if he calls you some sort of animal. He just does that."

"Basically, behave, shut up, and try not to be easily offended."

"Yes," the Head Girl agreed, sending her partner a slightly irritated glare. "Especially the behave part. Just because he doesn't look like he understands doesn't mean he doesn't. If I find out you offended him, I'll go straight to your head of house and see about punishment."

The Head boy chortled. "She's not bluffing. And if she doesn't find the head of house's punishment satisfying, then she'll go to the Headmaster himself."

A lot of disgruntled voices filled the air with a low buzz, but when she snapped, "Am I understood?" they all turned to one unified:

"Yes."

"Good, then follow me," and with a sweep of her black cloak, she lead them down a dark, gravelly path. Conner walked on the edge of it, and held his hand out into the pitch blackness.

"Trees," he told her in a quiet voice, pulling his hand out and showing the thick green leaf he had pulled away.

"Anabelle's told me the school's surrounded by a forest," Arabella replied taking the leaf from him and holding it close to her face so she could see in the faint torchlight coming from the Head Boy and Girl. It wasn't like any leaf she had ever found in a muggle park. It was perfectly round, and color splayed out from its center. Not the yellow, red, or orange of autumn, however, but what she was sure was blue.

"It's called the forbidden forest," Aries told them in a hiss, "because it's supposed to be filled with all sorts of dangerous creatures. Like werewolves and giant spiders!"

Dawn poked Arabella hard in the side and whispered, "You might want to ditch that before we get to the school. It might come off the wrong way."

"Why?" Arabella asked, still examining the leaf carefully, fascinated.

"Well, that's Caeruleus Mors Mortum. When ground and mixed correctly, it can be used to create a potion of death," she replied matter-of-factly.

Arabella dropped the leaf, and scrubbed her hands on her robes. Aries giggled. Their group came to a halt as their path opened up onto a long expanse of black that reflected the tall towers and turrets of the vast castle that poked into the starry night sky.

"Wick," the Head Girl called to a man moving around a fleet of boats at the edge of the lake. "The first years."

Wick was a tall, lean man with black hair that hung in tangled knots over his face and the upturned collar of his long coat, which was so stained and caked with mud that it was difficult to tell what it's original color had been.

He pushed the hair away from his face, revealing in the torchlight grey eyes that didn't quite focus on her as he said, "Thank you, Wolf Pup." in a faint voice.

Someone in the crowd whispered in a low voice, "Wow, she wasn't kidding about the animal name thing." Then, a thud and the same voice: "Ouch!" Someone must have kicked them.

The Head girl handed Wick her torch, and disappeared back up the path with the Head Boy.

They were silent as the odd man instructed them into the boats. No one was very eager to get too close to him, so he got a boat to himself, while some of the first years piled into others four and five at a time.

The ride across the lake was silent. They couldn't even appreciate the beauty of the castle because everyone was eyeing Wick, hoping he wasn't watching them.

~The Hat's Warning~

There was a woman waiting for them in front of the large, oak doors that would take them into the castle. Everyone's discomfort about Wick had shrunk and been replaced by the wonder they should have been feeling all along the closer they got to the structure.

"Thank you, Wick," she said with a nod. The man returned a brief nod, and strode away form them, mumbling incoherently. There was a cough that sounded suspiciously like, "Nut!"

The woman cleared her throat. Arabella thought briefly that if her mother had gone to school at Hogwarts, she might have gone with this woman. The next thought was that she was rather pretty for a teacher, with features that swooped cleanly into each other, and fiery red hair that fell in very neatly kept ringlets over her shoulders. Her intelligent brown eyes swept the crowd, and settled on a girl in the middle of it, who was sniggering. "Allow me to be incontrovertibly clear," she said, her voice sounding as though her were stretched to the point of breaking.

She took slow steps forward, and as she did, the first years parted so that she could get to her target. Once she was standing over the girl who's strawberry blond hair fell in a braid all the way down her back, she said, "Wick is a member of the staff, and thus, deserves the same respect you would offer any of us. And should you land in my house, I will be sure it is given to him. Am I clear?"

The girl's jaw was clenched, and she held the woman's gaze (quite a feat in Arabella's opinion) for a few long seconds. Then, she replied shortly, "Incontrovertibly."

The woman's eyes narrowed. "I will be watching you," she warned, then turned and began to walk back to the front, saying, "I am Professor Weasly, Head of Ravenclaw, which is one of Hogwarts' four houses. Shortly you will join the students in the Great Hall to be sorted into one of these houses. The Sorting Ceremony is very important because while you are at Hogwarts, your house will be something like your family. You will sleep in your house dormitories, spend free time in your house common room, have classes with those in your house, and so on. Your triumphs will earn you and your house points, but those same points can be taken in the light of any...missteps." Her eyes lingered on the girl she had called out. "Follow me please."

She lead them through the oak doors, and across a huge, high-ceiling-ed Entrance Hall. There was another pair of oak doors through which the chatter of voices could be heard. Professor Weasly lead them through a side door, and into a small chamber that barely offered elbow room once they had all packed in.

"One moment, please," then the professor disappeared through another door, and left them alone.

As soon as the door closed behind her, the girl from before began to laugh derisively. "Is she serious?" She raised her hands, and in a rather accurate impression of Professor Weasly's voice, said, "'I'll be watching you'? She's a joke, and that groundskeeper's a loon. I don't know what they're doing leaving a bunch of kids alone with him. No telling what could happen."

"They didn't want to hurt his feelings," another girl cut in, saying exactly what Arabella had been thinking. The speaker stepped forward so that she could be seen, and then right up in the other girl's face. Well, she might have been in her face, if she wasn't so much shorter than the red-haired girl. "He does have feelings you know? Even if he doesn't express them the same as you."

The first girl bent so they were on eye level, and said in a voice that was a bit too loud. "He's off his rocker! He belongs in St. Mungo's, not here around students!"

The boy beside her, who shared her strawberry-blond hair and grey eyes and oval shaped face, grabbed her by the arm and said, "Come on, Riles. The professor will be back any second, and if she catches you talking about him like that-"

"Talking about who like what?" They all jumped, and turned to see that Professor Weasly had returned, standing in the doorway, and searching their faces with piercing brown eyes.

Nobody said anything.

"Fine," Professor Weasly said at last. "Follow me, then."

And they did, into the Great Hall, where they followed her between tables filled with students in black robes and pointed hats, who all fell silent, and watched them closely. Arabella stared at the ceiling in awe. Past the thousands of candles hanging in midair and lighting the hall, she could see the starry night sky. She thought perhaps she wasn't looking at a ceiling at all, but just out into the open air.

"It's bewitched to reflect the sky," Dawn told her quietly looking up at it as well.

"It's amazing," she breathed.

They came to a stop, right in front of the table raised above the rest and lined with older witches and wizards. The staff table, Arabella presumed. At its center was a man with white hair that stuck out from his hat at odd angles. He looked to be the eldest on the staff, with laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. To hear it from Anabelle, the Head Master, Professor Oaklin Totiller, was the best thing to happen to the school since Albus Dumbledore himself.

Of course, Anabelle hadn't exaclty known any other Head Masters so how was she to know if there had been a better one?

The man smiled a little, and she realized she'd been staring at him. Blushing furiously, she looked down, and saw that Professor Weasly had sat a short, four-legged stool before them, and on it, a dirty heap of frayed and patched fabric that she took a moment to recognize as a hat.

Fifty different scenerios shot through her head at once, and she was so focused on sorting through them, that she almost missed the large rip at the bottom of the hat opening wide.

Almost.

A story I have to tell you,

I suggest you all take note

For in my words I promise

A warning lies in wait,

Many years before you time,

Many years before you time,

A boy passed through this school,

He studied just like all of you,

A fantastic student he was,

Received rewards and good scores,

But in his blood was taint,

He bore a hideous hate,

And with every year that passed,

He delved deeper into his curse,

and studied that darkest of magic,

Years went by,

His hunger grew,

His knowledge reached its peak,

He split his soul into seven pieces,

A diary, a diadem, a locket,

A cup, a ring, a snake,

And the seventh,

without his knowledge,

was the boy bring his death,

You've lestened well,

you've heard, beware

For it's happening again,

You all must stand together now,

loyal, wise, ambitious, brave,

For if you don't I fear the worst,

We'll crumble from the inside out,

When history repeats itself.

There was a moment when the entire hall was silent. Then, the headmaster clapped his hands together once. Professor Weasly joined him uncertainly, and soon, the hall was filled with disjointed claps that swelled into finally enthusiastic applause. Conner leaned over, and whispered, "Should we really be clapping? I was thinking something more along the lines of, 'Yes, Mr. Hat'." Arabella giggled.

When the applause died away, Professor Weasly unfurled a long scroll and announced, "When I call you name, you will step forward, and try on the hat." She cleared her throat, then, "Adkinson, Arabella."

Arabella felt sick. Why was her name first? There couldn't have been an Adams, or an Abrams? She swallowed hard, and took a step forward, shaking. She could hear murmuring behind her, and turned to see it was coming from the sea of scarlette and gold and black. She spotted her sister among them, sitting tall as she could. Anabelle flashed her an encouraging smile.

She turned back towards the front, taking a deep breath. The thought came to her from nowhere; she had read once that sharks had to swim continuously, or they would sink. So that's what she had to do. She just had to keep swimming before she sank. She was a shark.

It helped, the thought that, so long as she didn't pause between putting one foot in front of the other, she wouldn't sink. She made it to the stool, picked up the hat, and placed it on her head.

It slipped down over her eyes and ears, sending her world into darkness, and muffled sound. A voice came to life in her head. The hat!

"Yes, a good one to start with," it said silkily. "Lots of ambition, a good sense of loyalty, but I see knowledge most. Yes..." then, she heard the hat call out to the rest of a hall, in a voice that didn't sound near as smooth as it had in her head, "Ravenclaw!"

When she removed the hat, the first thing she saw was her sister, and Anabelle's eyes were full of betrayal. Arabella felt very childishly as though she had to shout to Anabelle that it wasn't her fault. The hat had chosen, not her.

She placed the hat back on the stool, and retreated into the crowd of students in blue rimmed robes, who had been shouting themselves hoarse since the hat had announced her new house. The dark-haired boy from before, wearing his Head Boy badge, scooted over and so she took a seat beside him. Professor Weasly raised a hand, and her table quieted. "Broche, Leah."

She emerged from the back of the first years, with long black hair that fell down her hat barely touched her head and shouted, "Gryffindor!"

The table on Ravenclaws' left came to life as Leah removed the hat and joined the Gryffindors with a wide smile, accepting claps on the back, and laughing as a boy who looked like her brother ruffled her hair. Anabelle leaned over the table and shook the newcomers hand.

"Burchette, Jessica." Also joined the Gryffindors, then, "Cobble Charlie." took a seat beside her as a new Ravenclaw, followed by, "Cuttle, Erin."

As, "Ethan, Maxwell." was sorted into Gryffindor, Erin said quietly, "Quite clever isn't it? Do you think they'll teach us how to bewitch inanimate objects like that?"

Charlie shrugged and Arabella, not wanting to say anything foolish, pretended she hadn't heard her, and watched the hat put, "Franz, Logan." in Slytherin. The table behind her roared and welcomed their first new member. "Grenzwald, Sienna." a small, sinister looking girl with short, black hair and red-rimmed, blue eyes, joined him shortly after.

"Harding, Summer." Left the room quiet for a few moments more than most, but finally the hat shouted, "Ravenclaw!" and they were joined by yet another member.

"Hurse, Adam." Gave Hufflepuff their first new student, and then, "Kramer, Calder." stepped forward and Arabella recognized him instantly as the boy who had tried to play mediator between his sister and the tiny girl in the side chamber. There was a long pause for him, but the hat deemed him a Gryffindor, as well as his sister, "Kramer, Ryselina." who sat next to him with a smug smile.

"Johnson, Ben." was another Ravenclaw, "Kinge, Cameron." was a Hufflepuff, then another Ravenclaw, "Kringer, Jason." "Larnie, Thomas." was a Slytherin. The list went on. "Lesh...Looper...Lurell." then, another person she recognized. "Malfoy, Aries."

Aries swept forward, placed the hat importantly on her head, and was put in Slytherin without missing a beat. Arabella's heart sank slightly. She'd been hoping to have at least one person she was familiar with in her own house. And besides, she'd rather liked Aries.

Two more names, "McDaniel..." (Hufflepuff) and "Middler..." (Another Ravenclaw), then: "Monroe, Conner."

There wasn't even time for her to hope he was in her house. He raced forward, shoved the hat onto his head, it immediately cried, "Gryffindor."

And just like that, the boy form Diagon Alley and King's Cross was welcomed to a different table, with his back to her. She looked away bitterly as her sister shook his hand, and she could have sworn she had sent smug grin her way.

Two more Hufflepuffs followed, then a new Slytherin and Ravenclaw, and then, "Orlans, Sabrina." The tiny girl that had challenged Ryselina in the side chamber, was placed in Hufflepuff as well.

"Slytherin...Slytherin...Ravenclaw...Hufflepuff...Slytherin...Hufflepuff...Slythein...Ravenclaw."

"Tate, Calista." A girl with raven hair that fell in a sheet over her shoulders and across her shoulder blades, was sorted into Gryffindor. Then, three more Slytherins, another Gryffindor, and two more Ravenclaws later it was, "Wood, Dawn"'s turn.

The hat took it's time with the dark-haired girl, and Arabella crossed her fingers under the table, biting her lip. Finally, the hat announced, "Ravenclaw!"

"We got the most!" The Head Boy told them jovially as he shook hands with Dawn. "No one can catch up now!" Arabella thought it rather silly to care if you get the most new students or not. It sounded like it would mean more work to her.

"York, Raphael." was the last to be sorted, and was welcomed to Hufflefuff with open arms and lots of cheering.

When the room had settled down, the Head Master stood, and spread his arms wide. His voice filled the room, but somehow didn't seem loud. "It is tradition," he told them with a smile, "and has been since the reign of the great Headmaster Albus Dumbledor, for my welcoming speech to take place after you have all been fed. So, my only words for now are, 'Let the feast begin!'."

Arabella gasped as the large platters filled to the point of spilling over with everything she could imagine and more. Too much, she knew, for them to eat, but delicious enough for them to certainly try. She began filling her plate.

"How do they do all of this?" Dawn wondered aloud, filling her own plate.

"House elves," the Head boy replied, "you know, that have been set free and need work elsewhere."

"What's a house elf?" Arabella asked automatically.

"Magical creatures that are bound to serve one family their entire existence,.

Unless they're set free, of course. Only the really old wizarding families have them anymore. At least, not elves that are bound to them."

"What's the difference between a bound house elf and a normal one?" asked Ben Johnson, picking away at the skin of a baked chicken.

"A bound house elf is a normal one," someone scoffed a few seats down.

"He's right," the Head Boy agreed, "At the beginning of history, house elves were all bound to a wizarding family, but along the way that changed. Now, we have freed house elves; house elves that can leave whenever they see fit, can be paid, can use their magic whenever they like; and bound house elves; elves that can only do what their masters say, go where they say, and work for nothing."

"So they're slaves?" Ben asked, looking horrified. Arabella smiled at litte as the boy pushed his glasses up his nose and continued angrily, "How is it even still legal to enslave living creatures?"

"It's tradition," the Head Boy answered mildly, "and besides, most house elves prefer the work without pay. Most of the time hired house elves just work for food and shelter. Money is sort of like a slap to the face."

"Why?" Ben demanded. "Because they're brainwashed into believing they're below the common courtesy granted to every other creature?"

"Brainwashed is a word," he replied, voice still level.

"But you don't think it's accurate?" Dawn joined the conversation, her voice filled with curiosity.

The Head Boy shrugged his shoulders. "I think it's an opinion, and really, the whole subject is readable only in the language of opinion. Maybe they have been brainwashed, or maybe they're like that because it's the natural order of things."

Arabella nodded, staring at him intently. "So you're saying the whole thing is purely philosophical."

The Head Boy beamed at her. "Precisely. You're very smart, you know that?"

Arabella blushed at the compliment, and a fourth boy scoffed. "Of course she's smart, Lyle. Why else would she be sitting with us?"

"I have a question," someone put in a few seats down, saving the fourth year from Lyle's intended snarky comeback. Erin Cobbler leaned over her plate to see everyone. "What was that song the hat sang? Is there another dark lord on the rise?"

At this, every first year turned wide, agreeing eyes to Lyle. Lyle said nothing for a moment, just chewed thoughtfully on a roll. "About two years ago," he started at last. "The grounds keeper, Wick, delivered a prophecy. It spoke of a repeat in our history and a new dark lord, and since then, the hat has felt the need to offer us a warning in his annual song." hen they started rustling worridly, he added, "It's really not anything to fuss over. Prophecies are subject to mistranslation all the time, and sometimes they hold no truth at all. Sometimes they're just a warning that something needs to change."

"According to the new publication of A History of Magic, there were two prophecies concerning Lord Voldemort, and they both came true," Charlie Cobble pointed out, his eyes as wide as the moon outside.

"But those events happened within the year they were prophesier," Lyle reminded.

"He's got a point," that was the noodle-limbed Jason Kringler.

Lyle thanked him briefly before going on. "Look, wer're not going to tell you what to believe here in Ravenclaw, but I do want you to understand the statistics of it, and they show that only forty five percent of prophecies turn out to be the true."

"And half of those are misread," a fifth-year seated across from Lyle added matter-of-factly.

The knowledge calmed the tension among the first years, and their giddy minds turned back to lighter subjects. By the time dessert was served, they had gotten onto the subject of quidditch.

"Our team's undefeated two years running," Lyle told them proudly. "Hendrix down there's been captain since his fourth year, and he great with strategy and what not."

"It's a real shame he'll be leaving after this year," a sixth-year girl agreed. "They won't be the same team without him."

"Not necessarily," the boy seated beside her put in. "Aquila rivals him when it comes to strategy. I've heard they work on plays together. She'll be just as good a captain as he is.

"Yes, but the question will be if they can find a decent seeker to replace Hendrix. A quidditch team isn't a quidditch team without a decent seeker."

The first years listened to them debate in awe, until the Headmaster stood, and the hall went quiet.

~The Hat's Warning~

Conner had planned on stopping to talk to Arabella, but as he came out of the Great hall with the rest of Gryffindor's first years, he knew this would not be the case. He was so full and tired, he thought he may curl up on the cold, stone floor and go to sleep right there.

Not to mention he thought Arabella's prefect sister may blow a gasket if he stopped to chat.

"Follow me first years!" She was calling from the lead of their group, as though they weren't already doing that. She lead them up a grand staircase and through the maze of the castle, taking so many turns and side corridors and shorts cuts that he lost track of where they had been. All the while, she called, "Keep up! Stick together first years!" And other similar phrases.

Then she came to a stop in front of a portrait of a rather large woman, dressed in a puffy pink dress that made her look rather like a pig in Conner's opinion. She stared at them, and in a flat voice, said, "Password?"

"Beazor," Anabelle answered, and the portrait swung open, revealing an opening that lead into a large circular common room lit by a crackling fire, around which large, squishy looking armchairs had been set up. Staircases on either side lead up to their dormitories; girls on the right, boys on the left, according to Anabelle.

Conner made his way up the staircase with the other first year boy; a small, scruffy looking boy called Maxwell, a boy with sandy-colored hair named Nathan, and the boy with the crazy twin sister, Calder. When they reached their dormitory, they found their things already there, against the foot of one of the four-poster beds, with their curtains shut tight.

Conner made his way to his bed immediately, and released Oliver. The kitten nuzzled his hand in thanks, then skipped his way across the bed, and made himself comfortable on the pillow.

"Oh no," Conner chuckled quietly, removing him. "That's mine." Then he crawled into bed, and fell asleep still fully clothed.

That night, the hat's warning replayed in his head, except that this time, it was accompanied by pictures. Snap shots of people he cared about dead, reports of mass murders up and down the countryside, and most disturbing of all, Arabella lying on her back with her eyes wide open and glazed over in death.

He woke the next morning in a cold sweat, with Oliver licking his nose, and staring at him with concerned, lamplike eyes.