"Granger, Hermione!" The hat called.
It spent a long time on her. But it eventually…
"GRYFFINDOR!"
A beaming Hermione went to join the red and gold table.
~*~HPLV~*~
"Longbottom, Neville!"
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
A scared looking Neville tried to run off with the hat. He quickly ran back amid gales of laughter.
The hat had not even touched Malfoy's head before it shouted "SLYTHERIN!"
Then it called,
"Potter, Hadrian!"
And the entire hall got quiet.
The sound of a pin dropping could be heard.
For a moment Hadrian thought it was because of his name but then he heard the doors to the great hall slam open.
Hadrian turned around as he felt the familiar aura enter the room. He hated to admit it, even to himself, but it was electrifying. The first years stumbled to get out of the way, as the Dark Lord himself strode through the great doors and into the hall.
There was a sudden scrapping of benches as everyone stood up.
The man hadn't changed. Not really. He still moved with a lithe and deadly grace that always seemed to follow him. But it had become even deadlier through the years. He had become a man, with more pronounced jawline and sharp brown eyes. He was tall. And for all his sixty years of age, he didn't look at day above thirty. Power dripped off the man. Hadrian saw many first years shivering at their first contact with such strong, dark magic.
Hadrian could sense it. And he could feel that, whatever brought the man here, that he was angry.
But just as the man strode past, a corner of his robe brushed Hadrian's hand. And their eyes met.
Hadrian would not be that easily discovered. Despite his quickened heartbeat and desire to present an impassive face, he quickly let fear bleed into his gaze. He opened his mouth a little and let it slack. Without a hint of slowing, the Dark Lord calmly made his way to the head of the table, taking the chair that was always empty and ready for him. Hadrian counted that as a victory.
All the attention in the hall was on Voldemort. The man drew people like flies to honey.
"Please be seated." His voice sent shivers down people's backs. It was strong and deep, a voice you could listen to for hours for it's texture and reassurance and undercurrents of danger. "You may continue with the sorting."
Hadrian closed his eyes. This was absolutely the worst timing.
"Potter, Hadrian!" McGonnagal called again.
Whispers, like he had heard every time his name was mentioned, rang throughout the hall. "Hadrian? Did he say Hadrian? Potter? No way."
He felt the back of his neck heat up at the scrutiny. But then the hat descended on his head to cover his eyes.
What do we have here? Oh my. A returning necromancer. Ah I have not had the pleasure of sorting one of your kind for many centuries. You have the distinct feel of being Slytherin, yes I do remember sorting you into that house.
Quite an ambitious youngster too. But where to put you?
Courage, yes. You have not been afraid of many things in your life and have stuck to your own code quite adamantly. A thirst for knowledge as well. You have collected quite the mass of necromancy knowledge. Ambition… you tis the house you were sorted in, you have ample amounts of that.
So much courage, hmm yes, and a thirst to prove yourself, yes Slytherin was the right choice. It certainly made you great.
But this is a new sorting. And you have had quite a life since the last I'm afraid. A lot. Found a bit of complicated love, I see.
Are you always this nosey?
Well, its not everyday I get to sort the Dark Lord's lover… as he's watching.
Harry turned redder, if possible. "Will he hear this conversation?"
No, I cannot divulge a sorting. Why do you think Tom did not kill me when I was in Dumbledore's possession? Unless he is reading your mind right now, I do not think so. So, let's get back to business.
A lot of talent. Oh yes, a lot of talent. Not a bad mind either. Knowledge oh my goodness you have a lot of knowledge and the means to seek it as well. But what is this? You wish to be in Hufflepuff?
Hard work is undervalued.
Oh it plays into your plans to be a Light wizard this time. Or at least pretend to be. Not that that's any of my business. And you want to bring that House back to its former glory? Aren't you afraid of being called names? Not respected? Sneered at?
Not really, Harry thought. It would actually suit his needs to be underestimated, and avoid the Dark Lord. One of Tom's weaknesses was his arrogance. He chronically underestimated people in other houses.
How very ambitious and brave of you!
Ok, now the hat was just messing with him.
It's not about bravery. I want to be in Hufflepuff. Hadrian thought.
Quite ambitious. Quite ambitious indeed. A cunning plan already in mind… and to gain honour for an entire house.
This was taking too long. Whispers rang like wildfire across the hall.
Are you sure about Slytherin? Slytherin could make you great.
Definitely not slytherin. Harry thought firmly. He thought back of the memories in those rooms, in the common room. Not just for his plan, or his damn ambition of needing to do something completely separate from Tom's aims. A small part of himself, selfishly, just did not want to deal with Slytherin again if it was not with Tom. Not slytherin.
Well if you're sure…
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Stunned, Hadrian just sat there. Ms McGonagall pulled off the hat. "Off you go then." She said, not unkindly, peering at him over her no-nonsense spectacles.
Harry hardly dared look around. It was in times like these he felt the full drawbacks of the necromancer solution. He wasn't an adult in a child's body, he was a child—just with memories of the past. He certainly felt like one as he made his way to thered and gold table. He was in a haze, like he was watching everything from underwater. It was shock. This could not be happening.
A grinning Hermione was waving him over and Hadrian quickly took a seat beside her. "Well done!" She said, beaming at Harry. He managed a small smile in return.
Wasn't the hat supposed to take his feelings into consideration?
"Weasley, Ronald!"
"GRYFFINDOR!"
Hadrian barely suppressed his groan. Things just got better. The lanky redhead was accosted by a pair of redhead twins as he came. They each grabbed one of his arms and sat down hard, trapping Ron, and were chattering on at a famous rate. It seemed the Gryffindors were the only lively table, though they had the least number of students. Other than him and Ron, there was a boy named Dean and a named girl named Parvati. Her twin had been sorted into Ravenclaw, and she was crying about it. An upper year prefect was trying to comfort her. The majority of the children were in Hufflepuff with most pureblood children in Slytherin.
"Do you want the Dark Lord to see you crying?" The prefect finally said.
With a gasp, Parvati stopped crying.
Hermione was nervously speaking a hundred miles a minute. "I can't wait for classes to start. I mean, they will start tomorrow, but I am looking forward to casting my first spell. We can't do magic outside of school. And there are so many classes. Transfiguration, Charms, Defence Against the Dark Arts, Potions, Herbology, History of Magic, and Astronomy! I've memorized all my course books of course, but I wonder if it'll be enough."
"Hermione." Hadrian said. "Breathe."
"Right. Thanks Harry."
"Eat something. You'll need it for class."
The beam she gave him was disproportionate to his little words. He ducked his head and followed his own advice. The food was good. After years of preparing food for himself magically, this was much better. He never excelled at cooking spells the way Tom had. The Dark Lord cooking had always amused him. Speaking of the Dark Lord… he was gone. He had disappeared sometime after the sorting and when everyone started eating.