A/N: Chapter revised as of 10/30/24.
August was a month of both joy and grief for Harry.
For once in his life, he did not want the summer to end. Summers were usually spent with the Dursleys, being abused and belittled every waking moment of the day. Now, in his new life, Harry was surrounded by loving parents and a rambunctious sister, who may have been a handful but nonetheless cared for him. Even when they weren't spoiling him with attention he felt safe, he felt loved...a feeling he'd never had before. Suddenly the start of school term didn't feel like an escape, but an interruption to the new peace he'd found.
At the same time, he found himself mourning for the life he'd left behind. He wondered what Ron and Hermione might be going through, grieving the loss of their best friend. How the Order of the Phoenix would cope with Harry's loss – poor Remus had lost his best friend and the closest thing to a son in the span of a few seconds. He knew thanks to Death that they would eventually pick up the pieces and move on without him to defeat Voldemort, perhaps rallying behind Dumbledore to finish the job.
Dumbledore. The more Harry replayed the events of that evening in his mind, the more frustrated he became with the Headmaster. If he hadn't kept Sirius so confined within Grimmauld Place, he might not have rushed off headlong to the Ministry for a taste of adventure. And if he had only told Harry what was going on, he never would have been lured into danger in the first place. Did he know about the soul fragment in Harry's head? Did he plan on Harry dying to weaken Voldemort? The very thought made Harry's blood boil.
He wouldn't be quite so trusting of the kindly old man this time around. He could no longer count on the adults in his life to do the right thing – he had to rely on himself above anyone else. And he would have to keep an eye on Neville as well – if he was indeed marked for death as Harry had been in his previous timeline, Dumbledore might be similarly negligent in keeping the boy safe. Harry saw himself in the boy and couldn't help but feel obligated to help him in any way he could.
And yet, he had his own life to look forward to now! Hogwarts beckoned to him, a world of vast opportunities and potential to craft whatever future he wanted. Harry was free to make his own choices, carve his own path. He would help out with the war efforts in any way he could, of course, but he now faced a blank slate for truly the first time. No prophecies dictating his fate, no puppet masters pulling his strings...he was in control of his own life now. That was as liberating a thought as it was a terrifying one.
In the meantime, he slowly put the pieces together of his parents' lives over the past ten years, the lives in which they were not murdered by Lord Voldemort. James was a respected Auror, using his connections within the old Order of the Phoenix to ascend to a position of power within the Ministry. Lily was a freelance potioneer, working part-time on her mastery in the field while taking occasional time away from her family to attend conferences and apprenticeships all over the world.
Then there was Dahlia. Harry had never had a sibling before – the closest thing he had was his cousin Dudley, who belittled and abused him while receiving special treatment from his parents. Dahlia was a tornado of chaotic energy, constantly pestering and teasing him throughout the long summer days. But underneath it all he sensed a deep respect, a kinship he'd never felt with anyone besides Ron and Hermione. She was curious and generous, always coming to him first when she had some big question or revelation about magic, schooling, or life itself. She loved him, even if she would never admit it out loud, and Harry loved her back...leaving her would be the most difficult part of going to Hogwarts.
Harry also got an unexpected glimpse into the life of another ex-Marauder late that August, when Lily answered the door to a beaming Remus Lupin. He looked far more youthful and less shabby than Harry had ever seen him in his past life...he may still be a werewolf, but he no longer bore the burden of losing all of his friends to the war.
"Harry!" he beamed, bending down to give the boy a hug. "I hear you're off to Hogwarts next month. Getting excited yet?"
"Yeah, I can't wait," Harry nodded. "How have you been, Professor?"
The title slipped out before Harry could catch himself. Remus' eyebrows raised, peering curiously down at a mortified Harry for a moment, then he guffawed with laughter.
"Having a laugh at my appearance, are you?" he winked, indicating his sharp attire and groomed features. "I'll have you know I just had a job interview this morning, and I didn't get tossed out within the first five minutes for once!"
"Harry, don't tease your Uncle Remus like that!" Lily chastised her son.
"It's quite alright, Lily," Remus grinned. "Glad to see young Harry is starting to develop his father's trademark wit."
"Yes, we're just thrilled," Lily said sarcastically. "Come, Remus, I've just finished the brew last night."
Remus followed her into the kitchen, and Harry quietly peered in after them. Lily reached into a cupboard and pulled out several small vials of murky blue liquid, which she handed to Remus, who gratefully accepted them.
"You're a lifesaver, Lil," Remus sighed, giving her a hug. "You don't know how much this has helped me stay sane. Most employers won't even grant an interview to my kind without access to Wolfsbane…"
"You know we're happy to help," Lily said, patting Remus gently on the shoulder.
"And tell James I intend to repay every Knut when I'm able—" Remus continued.
"He won't hear of such a thing," Lily interrupted him. "It's the least we can do." Remus nodded sheepishly at this sentiment.
So my parents are brewing him Wolfsbane Potion every month? Harry thought to himself. He knew the potion was prohibitively expensive, but clearly the Potters could afford the cost. Was that all it took to keep Remus functional in regular society? Could Harry have helped him in his past life, if he'd known the man was struggling so much without it? The Remus he'd known would have never asked a child for such financial assistance, but Harry would have given it in a heartbeat.
"Hey, little troublemaker!" Remus greeted Dahlia, who had just bounded down the stairs to see who had arrived. "Still giving your brother a hard time?"
"Always!" Dahlia beamed, accepting Remus' hug. "He won't let me touch his wand anymore, after I almost blew up the living room."
"Nobody will be touching that wand until Harry is off to school," Lily said sternly. She had confiscated the wand from Harry after he nearly blinded Dahlia with a Lumos charm that wound up being more powerful than anticipated. The Kneazle wand was indeed finicky, as Ollivander predicted, making the power level of his spells hard to regulate if he wasn't focusing hard enough.
"Well, that's for the best, anyway," Remus reasoned. "Technically you shouldn't be performing magic outside of school, even though the Ministry won't be able to tell it's you in this household."
"Seems unfair, doesn't it?" Harry piped in, verbalizing a nagging thought he'd had for years now. "Muggle-borns don't have that same advantage at home, while we can get away with it."
"You're right; it was extremely unfair for me to return home every summer and not be able to use magic," Lily agreed. "Which is why you will not be allowed to use your wand during the summers either."
"What?! Why not?" Harry protested. "Like Uncle Remus said, the Ministry will never know!"
"It'll be good for you to get used to doing things the Muggle way every now and then," said Lily. "And speaking of which, I'm visiting my sister and her family for dinner tonight in Surrey. Want to come spend time with your relatives?"
"Eww, no way!" Dahlia blanched at once. "Dudley gives me the creeps!"
Part of Harry was morbidly curious what the Dursley family would look like if they hadn't spent the last ten years raising a magical nephew they never wanted. But based on Dahlia's reaction, the sickening feeling in his gut was worth listening to. "Absolutely not," he said.
"Can't blame you," Remus said with a grin. "Never did like that Vernon fellow. Petunia could have done so much better for herself—"
"Oh, hush, you three," Lily tutted. "They aren't that bad. You just don't understand Muggles like I do."
If only you knew, Harry thought bitterly. But he did not belabor the point, and was grateful when Lily did not force him to attend dinner that evening.
August passed far too quickly for Harry's liking, as he yearned to spend every free moment possible with his family. He awoke earlier than usual on September 1st, feeling apprehensive but excited about the term to come. But that wasn't the only reason for his lack of sleep, as a distant rumbling slowly grew to a deafening roar as something very loud approached their home and stopped directly in front of it. Harry leapt out of bed and ran downstairs, excited, as he had a pretty good idea of what it might be…
"For god's sake, did you have to bring that infernal thing here?" Lily was shrieking from the front door as Harry reached the landing. Peering around her, he could see a man with a wild mane of black hair standing out front, dressed in a Muggle leather jacket and jeans.
"Of course I didn't have to, but today's a special occasion!" Sirius laughed. He leaned in to plant a kiss on Lily's cheek, which she squirmed away from, looking unamused. "Ah, and there's the man of the hour!"
"Uncle Sirius!" Harry exclaimed, running up to give his godfather a hug. This was not the same Sirius he'd seen fall through the Veil – this version looked far younger and less wasted, having not spent a decade in Azkaban for a crime he didn't commit. He was handsome and care-free, looking every bit the troublemaker Harry knew he had been in school.
"Brought you a little surprise," Sirius grinned, beckoning towards the street where a large, enchanted black motorbike was parked. "Thought you might like a lift to King's Cross for your big send-off!"
"James has already secured a Portkey for us to get to the station," Lily said crossly. "There was no need for you to bring that awful machine all the way up here!"
"It's only an hour to London by air!" Sirius insisted. "He can wear a helmet. Far safer than a broomstick, I'd reckon!"
"Thought I recognized that sound!" a voice boomed from inside the house; James had come down to join the conversation. "Hey, Padfoot, thought you were gonna meet us there!"
"Change of plans, Prongs," Sirius grinned, giving his best friend a bear hug. "Figured young Harry here might enjoy a little airtime before his train ride."
"Ahhh," James said thoughtfully, a smirk creeping onto his face. "What do you think, Harry?"
"Absolutely not!" Lily protested before Harry could enthusiastically say yes. "We agreed that Harry would not ride on that stupid thing until he was older!"
"He is older, isn't he?" Sirius laughed. "C'mon, don't be such a…"
"Such a what, Sirius Black?" Lily demanded when he faltered. "Finish your thought!"
"I'd like to go, Mum," Harry said softly. "Please can I? We'll be safe, promise!"
Lily looked down at her son worriedly, then sighed and rolled her eyes. "You two are horrible influences, you know," she said to James and Sirius before turning back towards the kitchen. The two men looked contrite as she walked away, but quickly shared devious grins once she was out of sight.
Minutes later, Harry was nestled in the side car of the motorbike, wedged in between his shrunken luggage. Lily was fussing over his helmet, tightening the straps far tighter than they needed to be. "If he tries any dangerous stunts, you ask him to slow down, you hear?" she instructed her son.
"Honestly, Lil, you act like I'd purposely endanger my favorite godson!" Sirius laughed. "We'll be perfectly safe."
Harry knew his godfather well enough to suspect otherwise. And sure enough, a few minutes later they were rocketing up into the sky, doing flips and barrel rolls with wild abandon. "Better than a Portkey, eh, Harry?" Sirius cackled like a madman.
"Loads better!" Harry laughed. Sirius chucked off his own helmet and Harry did the same, allowing the wind to flow freely through his hair. It wasn't quite the same as zooming around on his Firebolt, but he felt a similar rush of euphoria. He hoped that Sirius would be around for a long, long time to share such thrills with.
"You didn't have work today, Uncle Sirius?" Harry inquired as they began the descent into downtown London. He'd long been curious what Sirius was up to in his new life, and was eager to learn more about him.
"Work?" Sirius guffawed. "As if I would let any job tether me down! I'm living the bachelor life, my boy, and enjoying every minute of it!"
"Never gonna settle down and start a family, then?" Harry asked lightly.
"I'd like to see the woman who tried to pin me down," Sirius chuckled. "Poor James was too smitten with Lily to realize how restricted he'd be with her."
"He seems happy enough," Harry shrugged.
"Yeah, well, to each their own I suppose," Sirius scoffed.
They touched down moments later in the King's Cross parking lot, swerving in and out among Muggle pedestrians who gave them no more than a passing glance and disapproving look at the noise. They rejoined James, Lily and Dahlia inside the station, Lily impatiently tapping her feet as Harry and Sirius approached.
"I'm sure those helmets stayed on for the whole ride?" she asked suspiciously.
"Of course!" Sirius chuckled, hastily attempting to straighten his windswept hair as Harry did the same. Lily just rolled her eyes and turned to lead the way towards Platform 9 as her husband surreptitiously high-fived his best friend and his son.
After checking that the coast was clear, the family passed through the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10, emerging on the station platform housing the Hogwarts Express. Harry smiled in spite of himself at the sight of the iconic red locomotive, spouting steam and preparing for its long voyage north.
"Ah, there's Dale!" James said jovially, waving and approaching a balding man across the way. Harry watched as his father shook the man's hand and spoke animatedly with him for a while, not recognizing him at all.
"Mum, who is that?" Harry wondered aloud.
"Hmm? Oh, that's Dale Greengrass," Lily replied. "He's a well-regarded member of the Wizengamot. He's helped your father with some political battles over the years." Harry spied Dale's two daughters, Daphne and Astoria, skulking behind him; the former was already dressed in her school robes, prepared to board the train for her own first year.
Harry marveled at the way James glided regally across the platform, greeting fellow Ministry employees and engaging them in conversation. It was clear that James was well-liked and respected by all, with only a few exceptions – Harry spied Lucius Malfoy with his wife and son, frowning in James' direction. Harry wondered how much of a foothold Lucius had managed to make in the Wizengamot with the likes of James Potter running interference on his schemes…
A whistle sounded overhead, and Lily swore under her breath. "Harry, it's time to go!" she said, pulling her son in for a tight hug. "Don't forget to write. I'll miss you."
"I'll miss you too," Harry muttered into her arm, and he meant it. Lily had been every bit the doting, loving mother he'd always dreamed of, and it would hurt to be apart from her for several months.
"See you soon, kiddo," James said, returning to give his son a firm slap on the back. "Try not to get into too much trouble."
"And if you do, make sure you don't get caught," Sirius winked, ruffling Harry's hair. "Send the caretaker our warmest regards; he's an old friend."
Harry turned at last to Dahlia, who sat atop the luggage cart, regarding him curiously. "Any parting insults for the road?" he asked her sarcastically.
But she surprised him by engulfing him in a tight hug, nearly knocking him over. "You'd better write," Dahlia sniffled, the reality of her brother leaving her finally setting in.
"I will," said Harry. And with his trunk in one hand and Bandit's cage in the other, he boarded the train, watching with a pang of sadness as his waving family disappeared out of sight. Another year at Hogwarts awaited him, but this time he was actually leaving something behind – a bittersweet feeling he'd never experienced before.
Harry trudged through the narrow corridors of the train, searching for an empty compartment. He passed by Malfoy, who was already surrounded by older Slytherins, and quickly moved on, not wanting to get into a fight before even arriving at the castle. He nearly asked to join a group of first-year girls, including Lavender Brown, Susan Bones and Tracey Davis, but decided not to after they giggled at him.
Harry was about to give up and ask to join a group of older students, when he came upon a compartment with only three first-years inside. He froze at the sight of Neville Longbottom, Ron Weasley, and Hermione Granger, already making their introductions to one another.
"Looking for somewhere to sit?" Ron asked, spotting Harry. "We have some room."
"Erm…" Harry stammered. Part of him wanted to back out, to leave them be. He didn't want to disrupt the harmony of their trio, knowing how important Ron and Hermione had been to him in his first timeline and not wishing to take that away from Neville, who would also be in need of close friends. But curiosity got the better of him – not to mention wistful longing at the prospect of seeing his old friends again. "Sure, thanks."
Harry stowed his trunk in the overhead compartment, and set Bandit's cage down next to another beside Neville – a cage, he realized, that contained a very familiar, snowy-white owl. "Is this your owl?" Harry asked, bewildered, as his old friend Hedwig blinked up at him.
"Sure is," Neville said proudly. "This is Snowball. She flew down and landed on my head at the apothecary in Diagon Alley."
"She's beautiful," Harry said honestly. He felt a pang of jealousy that Hedwig had chosen another mate in this timeline, but perhaps it was for the best. She'd been a valuable companion for him when he was an orphan and felt terribly alone, and perhaps she could sense that same feeling in Neville, eager to fill that void for him. Harry hoped she would serve Neville as well as for him.
"I'm Ron Weasley, by the way," said Ron, extending his hand to Harry. "This is Hermione Granger, and he is none other than Neville Longbottom." Neville blushed slightly at the grand introduction, but Harry shook his hand the same as the other two.
"I'm Harry Potter. Nice to meet you three," Harry said politely, taking the empty seat.
"That's your only reaction?" Ron asked, bewildered. "Don't you know who he is?"
"Yes," said Harry simply. "My parents spoke very highly of yours, Neville. Pleasure to meet you."
Neville nodded appreciatively at this. Harry knew from experience that Neville would just want to be treated as normal, not like a celebrity to be gawked at. Ron, who had yet to realize this, merely shrugged.
"Your dad's James Potter, the Auror, right?" he asked Harry. "My dad always says he's the only person keeping things together at the Ministry. It must be mental to be his son!"
"He's just like any other dad, really," Harry said sheepishly. But deep down, it did feel good to hear that his parents were so well-regarded in the wizarding community. "Your dad's Arthur, right? My dad has said kind things about yours as well." Ron beamed delightedly at this.
Conversation quickly shifted elsewhere as the train whisked them across the British Isles. "D'you know what House you're going to be Sorted into, Neville?" asked Ron.
"Dunno," Neville shrugged. "My dad was a Gryffindor, and my mum was a Hufflepuff. So probably one of those."
"I'm gonna be in Gryffindor," Ron said proudly, puffing out his chest. "All my family before me was."
"Not all," Harry pointed out. "Your uncles Gideon and Fabian were Hufflepuffs."
"Yeah, but they're Prewetts," Ron said, rolling his eyes. "Us Weasleys are more the Gryffindor type. Besides, how did you know that about my uncles?"
"My dad told me," Harry replied. "He said he knew them before, during the first war." Indeed, Harry had spent much time over the past month asking James about his experiences as an Auror and Order of the Phoenix member. Things had apparently played out much the same as in his original timeline, though of course this time, the war ended with Voldemort going after the Longbottoms rather than the Potters.
"Ah, yeah, makes sense," Ron said, suddenly looking downcast at the reminder of his uncles' murders. But he quickly recomposed himself and turned to Hermione. "What about you, Granger?"
"Well, my family didn't go to Hogwarts, but I've read all about the four Houses in Hogwarts, A History," Hermione said. "I think Ravenclaw sounds the best-suited for me. What?" she asked in response to Ron's snort of derision.
"Ravenclaw are a bunch of nerds," Ron guffawed. "You don't want to go there. Not unless you plan on burying your head in books for the next seven years?"
Hermione shrunk in her seat a little at this comment, but Harry jumped in on her behalf. "There's nothing wrong with being studious," he said practically. "She shouldn't be made to feel badly for wanting to challenge herself academically." Harry felt Hermione visibly relax a little beside him, which made him glad he spoke up – he remembered how much Hermione had been hurt by Ron's teasing in their original first year, and didn't want to idly sit by and watch it happen again.
"I guess," Ron grumbled. "How about you then, Potter? Got a preference?"
"Not really," Harry shrugged. "I'm sure all four have their pros and cons, and I'll accept whatever the Sorting Hat chooses for me."
"Even Slytherin?" Neville piped up, nose crinkling a little at the thought.
"Yeah, no way I'd go there!" Ron muttered. "Not a dark witch or wizard in history that didn't come from Slytherin."
"Actually," said Hermione matter-of-factly, "there have been dark wizards from all four Houses, in fact. Slytherins may be ambitious, yes, but Ravenclaws can prove too curious in their studies of dark magic, Gryffindors too reckless in their pursuit of greatness, Hufflepuffs too loyal to their friends who went dark. It's all about excess."
"Exactly," Harry nodded. "It's all about what you take away from your House's values. Besides, Merlin was a Slytherin, and no one would dare say a bad word against him, would they?"
"Still, my brothers say the Slytherins can be a nasty bunch," Ron shrugged. "I'll pass." Neville nodded slowly, but he looked more pensive at Harry's comments.
No matter, Harry thought to himself. In a few hours' time, they would all be Gryffindors and this conversation would be moot. But one thing he hoped to rectify this time around was his inter-House relationships, which he'd neglected in his previous timeline. Dumbledore's Army had comprised nearly as many Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs as Gryffindors, after all, and there were even a few Slytherins he didn't think were all that bad. Perhaps he ought to connect with Daphne Greengrass, especially if their fathers were political allies in the Wizengamot…
The train arrived at Hogsmeade Station shortly after dusk, and the students quickly dressed into their school robes before disembarking. "Firs' years, over here!" boomed the familiar voice of Hagrid, holding a lit lantern aloft. Harry, Neville, Ron and Hermione joined the throng of first-years to follow Hagrid down the dirt path towards the lake.
They reached the shore of the lapping waters to find a fleet of enchanted rowboats waiting for them to enter. The students clambered aboard, jostling to get in with their friends they'd made on the train. "Looks like this one only has room for three more," Ron remarked as they shuffled towards the nearest boat.
"You lot go ahead," said Harry quickly. "I'll find another one." Neville, Ron and Hermione thanked him as they joined Dean Thomas in the boat. Harry knew that he had to give the trio time to develop their own friendship, independent of his presence.
Harry instead found himself in a boat with the Patil twins and Sally-Anne Perks, who all oohed and aahed as they glided across the still waters towards the towering castle ahead. They arrived at the boathouse and followed Hagrid up the winding steps to the main entrance, where the half-giant instructed them to stop just outside the Great Hall.
"Wait 'ere for Professor McGonagall to come and collect yeh," Hagrid told the first-years. "Best o' luck with the Sorting." And he lumbered off down the hallway, leaving them to fidget nervously.
Harry stood patiently waiting beside his anxious classmates, oddly at ease. He listened with some amusement as a few students nervously whispered their theories about what the Sorting Ceremony might entail, only for Hermione to set the record straight for them. Harry's eyes wandered across the spacious corridor and landed upon a man slinking through the shadows. A man he recognized at once, and was shocked to see.
"Pettigrew!" Harry shouted in surprise. Several heads turned in Peter Pettigrew's direction as the man froze, about to enter the Great Hall through a side door. Peter's eyes landed on Harry, and he broke out into a smile.
"Is that little Harry?" said Peter, approaching the group of first-years. "Blimey, I hadn't realized you were starting school this year! Surely you remember your Uncle Peter?"
"Erm...yes, of course," Harry said awkwardly. He took in Peter's appearance, dressed in a simple brown uniform, and realized that he must be the Hogwarts caretaker instead of Filch. Why had his parents not mentioned this earlier…?
"My oh my, it's been years since I last saw you!" Peter sighed wistfully. "You look so much like James...but with Lily's eyes...do tell them I said hello, won't you?"
"Sure," Harry nodded stiltedly. Peter gave him a small nod and awkward little bow before turning and entering the Hall, leaving them alone again.
"Making friends with the janitor, are we, Potter?" sneered Draco Malfoy, eliciting a few laughs from the other students.
"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry muttered. He was a bit shaken by the encounter, still remembering what a monster Wormtail had been in his past life. Was he still on good terms with the Potters in this timeline? Did he have no cause to betray them to Voldemort when they weren't being targeted by the Dark Lord? It would be difficult to separate his past feelings from the truth, but by all appearances, 'Uncle Peter' seemed to be far less of a threat in this timeline.
McGonagall came to collect the first-years soon after, and they filed into the Great Hall, marveling at the glorious space and enchanted ceiling. Harry eyed the older students, noticing their hushed whispers – not at him as before, but at Neville, who strode confidently at the head of the group behind McGonagall.
The first-years spread out at the head of the Hall as McGonagall set out a wooden stool and held the Sorting Hat aloft. "When I call your name, come forward and sit," the professor instructed them. She looked down at the scroll in her hands and began to read off the names: "Abbott, Hannah."
The first few Sortings went just as Harry remembered them. Hannah and Susan went to Hufflepuff; Lavender and Seamus went to Gryffindor; Terry, Michael and Anthony went to Ravenclaw; Crabbe and Goyle went to Slytherin.
Harry was starting to tune things out until "Granger, Hermione!" was called. Hermione nervously sat atop the stool as the Sorting Hat deliberated over her, the seconds trickling away into minutes: a near-Hatstall. Students began nervously muttering to one another at the prolonged Sorting, but Harry just patiently waited for the lion's den to inevitably claim Hermione.
Which is why he was shocked to hear the Hat declare, "RAVENCLAW!"
The blue-and-bronze-clad students cheered their approval as Hermione happily skipped off to her new House. Nobody seemed perturbed by the result – "Makes sense," Ron muttered under his breath to Neville, earning a chuckle – but Harry felt as though he'd just witnessed a significant departure from reality.
It wasn't long after that until "Longbottom, Neville!" was called, and the Hall erupted in whispered gossip as the boy nervously stepped forward and took his seat. Harry recalled Neville's first Sorting to be a long affair, as Neville had desperately fought with the Hat to go to Hufflepuff. He wondered if perhaps fate would shift again, and Neville would get his desired placement this time.
And once again, Harry was shocked when the Hat quickly declared, "SLYTHERIN!" Three of the House tables gasped in shock, while the students in green-and-silver roared in triumph for claiming the Boy Who Lived.
Harry glanced up at the High Table to gauge the staff's reaction. Dumbledore merely watched on impassively, while Hagrid looked troubled and Snape merely sneered at the passing Longbottom on his way to his new House.
Malfoy quickly joined Neville at the Slytherin table, and Harry's stomach churned a little watching Draco sit beside the boy and sling a welcoming arm around his shoulders. Harry hoped that Neville would fare alright in the snake pit, knowing most of the boys in his year had Death Eater parents. Neville looked shell-shocked by all the attention, but relaxed infinitesimally as Draco continued to chatter away happily beside him. Hopefully the dynamic would remain friendly for as long as possible…
Harry was so busy watching Neville that he nearly missed it when "Potter, Harry!" was called. Ron nudged Harry to get his attention so that he could take his seat on the stool. There was no audible reaction to his name from the students, or even the High Table – his sudden lack of fame would take some getting used to, but he wouldn't complain. McGonagall placed the Hat atop his head, and he waited patiently for it to speak to him.
Oho, but you are not what you seem to be at all, are you, young man? said the Hat.
No, not exactly, Harry admitted. But I'm not here to cause any trouble.
Oh, I don't think you could avoid trouble if you tried, Mr. Potter, the Hat pointed out sagely. No, it seems to find you one way or another.
Either way, I'd like to keep my head down, Harry reasoned. I'll take Gryffindor if you like, or maybe Slytherin this time around, like you always wanted.
I can see in your mind that I considered you for Slytherin the first time, the hat mused, but for the life of me, I cannot see why. You haven't a trace of Salazar's cunning or ambition. And while it is noble of you to seek protection for your friend, I cannot make character judgments based on such wishes.
So the Hat did see through his bald-faced attempt to go to Slytherin just to keep an eye on Neville. But did he truly not belong in the House after all? Was Tom Riddle's soul fragment really the only tie he had to the House?
As for Gryffindor, the Hat continued, I can see that its values failed you the first time around. Your nobility and bravery manifested as reckless disregard for your own safety, leading to your demise. A pity, but such is the foolhardy nature of Godric's more zealous descendants.
Blame Dumbledore for giving me a martyr complex, Harry groaned internally.
Perhaps, perhaps, the Hat said thoughtfully. Meanwhile, I can see you are much more willing to learn this time around. To arm yourself with knowledge, to soak it in and rectify past mistakes with informed decision-making. Such are the qualities Rowena held so dear.
Ravenclaw are a bunch of swots, though, Harry groaned. I won't fit in there.
You'd be surprised, the Hat chuckled. Perhaps you would benefit from being among others gifted in the art of obtaining and wielding knowledge. And others there would benefit from your leadership abilities and learn to break out of their introverted shells. I thrive on finding such mutually-beneficial pairings.
Whatever you think is best, Harry sighed. I argued with you once, and it clearly didn't work out well for me.
A wise decision, the hat agreed. Such wisdom can only place you in— "RAVENCLAW!"
The Ravenclaw table cheered once more as Harry quietly made his way to his new table, which felt foreign and strange on the opposite side of the Hall. Hermione waved eagerly for him, and he took the seat beside her, accepting her congratulations. At least that's one member of the trio I can keep in easy contact with, he thought.
The rest of the Sorting flew by, until "Weasley, Ronald" took his place on the stool. At this point, Harry was prepared for any outcome. Originally, Ron was placed in Gryffindor within seconds, but this time the Hat took its time pilfering through the redhead's mind. Harry glanced over at the Gryffindor table, where the twins and Percy sat eagerly watching their brother, anticipating his arrival. Harry had a gut feeling that they were about to be disappointed.
Sure enough, after another near-Hatstall, the Sorting Hat declared, "HUFFLEPUFF!", to the other Weasleys' dismay. Ron also looked glum as he trudged down towards the yellow-and-black table, which cheered appreciatively for him. And Harry thought he knew why, as Ron glanced solemnly not towards his brothers, but to Neville, who looked quite alone sitting among the other pure-bloods in Slytherin.
Did I cause all of this? Harry thought, slightly dismayed. Had he subtly influenced the others on the train to drive them away from Gryffindor? Or were they truly so different in this timeline, that they wound up in their secondary House?
But as Harry thought about it, the Sortings still made a lot of sense, based on what he knew of all three. Hermione was driven by an unquenchable thirst for knowledge – he'd encouraged her for that very trait on the Hogwarts Express. Ron was fiercely loyal and clearly dedicated to his friends, and the Hat must have recognized that – perhaps he'd even requested Slytherin in order to protect the Boy Who Lived. And Neville? Well, thanks to his encounter with Death, Harry knew that the Hat must have sensed Tom Riddle's presence in his head and reacted accordingly. And Neville apparently hadn't had the forethought to ask it otherwise.
Then again, perhaps Slytherin would be a good fit for Neville. He'd always struggled with self-confidence and yearned to prove himself in D.A. sessions. Perhaps being the Boy Who Lived had given him an additional chip on his shoulder, eager to prove to his family – and himself – that he was a worthy wizard, that he could live up to his lofty reputation. Harry sure hoped he would succeed, or at the very least survive, which might prove trickier once people realized Voldemort was still alive.
I'll just have to make sure he doesn't come back this time around, Harry thought determinedly.
After Blaise Zabini went to Gryffindor in a final surprise Sorting twist, Dumbledore stood to address the Great Hall. "Welcome one and all to another year at Hogwarts!" he announced. "I'd like to remind our younger students that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds and not to be entered alone. Our caretaker, Mr. Pettigrew, has also asked me to remind you that the third floor corridor is off-limits for anyone who wishes to avoid a most painful death." Off to one side of the Hall, Peter nodded sagely in agreement.
"Reckon they're keeping a dragon up there?" Terry Boot whispered nearby with a grin.
"Or a three-headed dog," Harry shot back, earning appreciative chuckles from the other Ravenclaws who clearly did not realize he was entirely serious.
"I'd also like to welcome Professor Charity Burbage, who will be taking over as Muggle Studies professor this term," Dumbledore went on, eliciting a polite smattering of applause for the young witch at the end of the staff table. "Meanwhile, we welcome back Professor Quirrell from his sabbatical to Albania, as he will be taking over the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor." More applause, mostly from the older students who recognized him, greeted the turbaned man.
Harry watched Quirrell carefully as Dumbledore went on with his opening remarks. The man looked as twitchy and nervous as he had the first time – Harry had to imagine that having Lord Voldemort on the back of one's head would cause anyone to develop the shakes. He would have to find a way to tip off the staff about Quirrell's plans to steal the Philosopher's Stone without drawing undue attention to himself – but he should have plenty of time to work that out.
"But enough talk," Dumbledore concluded. "Dig in!"
And the tables erupted with plates full of food, which students began eagerly tearing into. Harry never got tired of the Hogwarts feasts, even in his new life where he wasn't starved half to death every summer. The endless supply of delicious confections filled him with indescribable joy. He was grateful that his dorms would once again be in a tower, because he would need to walk off all the food he planned on stuffing his face with tonight.
Harry stole glances towards the other House tables to see how Ron and Neville were faring. The former seemed to be doing just fine, chatting animatedly with Ernie Macmillan and Justin Finch-Fletchley at the Hufflepuff table. Neville, on the other hand, looked intimidated as several older students walked over to formally introduce themselves to him. Harry knew how intense the family politics could be in Slytherin House, and could only hope Neville managed to find a few allies – if not genuine friends – within the snake pit.
After the dessert plates had cleared, students began filing out of the Hall towards their dormitories. "First years, follow me!" called out Penelope Clearwater from the head of the House table. Harry, Hermione and the rest of the newly-minted Ravenclaws followed their new prefect to their new home.
When they arrived at the base of Ravenclaw Tower, a group of students were stuck outside the entrance, standing below the bronze eagle statue over the door. "We can't solve the password," a third-year girl groaned. Harry and Hermione pressed forward as another student asked the statue to repeat the riddle.
"I am the harbinger of Death," the eagle announced regally. "The forerunner of doom, the encompassment of dread, and the end of the end. What am I?"
"That's rather morbid," Harry thought aloud. He thought back to his own meeting with Death a month prior, hoping that perhaps it would provide some insight that the others lacked. But it turned out that he, like everyone else, was overthinking it.
"I've got it!" Hermione squeaked excitedly. "It's the letter 'D'!"
"Well done," the eagle appraised her, and the door swung open to the relief of the other students. Harry patted Hermione on the back, along with a number of older students, causing her to glow with pride. Hopefully she won't be bullied so much in her new House, Harry hoped.
Harry was stricken with the beauty of the Ravenclaw common room, which he'd never entered before. Unlike Gryffindor's, which was cozy and warm in its close confines, Ravenclaw's was wide-open and spacious, adorned with generous natural lighting and regal architecture. A white marble statue of Rowena herself stood watch over the space, adorned in elegant robes and a regal tiara atop her head. Harry could see this being a place of quiet inspiration, feeling more like a library than the rough-and-tumble quarters of his old House.
He bade goodnight to Hermione and made his way up to the first-year dorms to meet his new roommates. He recognized Terry Boot, Anthony Goldstein, and Michael Corner from Dumbledore's Army, and they seemed friendly enough, even if Ron had detested Michael for dating Ginny in his original fifth year. Harry knew less about Kevin Entwhistle, who struck him as the silent, studious type, but he foresaw no issues with the boy.
Soon after, Harry found himself lying in an unfamiliar four-poster, listening to the quiet sounds of his new dorm mates slowly drifting off to sleep. It had been an eventful day, one that felt both warmly familiar and yet disturbingly different. He worried that he had already altered the course of things irrevocably, had ruined whatever plans were in motion to prevent Voldemort's rise to power.
But what does it matter if I have? Harry thought stubbornly. Not like it did me much good the first time. His first timeline had been a disaster – he'd been unable to stop Voldemort's return, and lost his own life in the process. Perhaps he should be meddling with things more – acting proactively to prevent things from occurring as they had before.
But he had to be smart about things. The Hat placed him in Ravenclaw for a reason – he could not go charging blindly into battle again like before. He had to prepare himself for what was to come – give himself the tools and skills to survive that Dumbledore failed to provide for him the first time. While his classmates undoubtedly had their first lessons on their mind for the coming weeks, Harry knew he had to think much, much farther ahead.
He may not be the Chosen One anymore, but he'd be damned if he let Voldemort win on his watch. He had a family now, and he would do anything in his power to protect them from what was to come.