Depressing Times

The Great Hall was still an impressive sight even after seeing it every day for most of six years Harry determined although he got nightmarish flashes of bodies lining the floor. Having seen Hogwarts subjected to a siege it was impossible to think of it in the same way, to view it without seeing blood and hear the echoing cries of a last breath. Harry's killing curse green eyes grew empty and haunted at the of memories. A small part of him was telling him that it was okay, that none of it would be happening this time around but another, larger part of him couldn't shake it. Having seen Fred die with his own eyes, watching as the sadistic she-demon Bellatrix Lestrange took just one more person he loved from him would stick with him no matter how much he tried to shake it.

Things like that weren't the sort you'd forget about easily, or at all for that matter. Instead Harry attempted to focus on the floating candles or the story ceiling reflecting the weather outside, showing a mild rain and breath taking thick grey clouds showing only in the light of the moon. Already seated students leaned slightly out to catch a glimpse of them, standing along with the first years and a couple other transfer students as well. Seventh years by the look of it, and a fifth year who was related to the Russian transfer.

The other two transfer students were silent, intimidatingly so. Their faces were set in a mask and gave them the feeling of being unapproachable. In comparison to them he had no doubt that he looked like a short, quivering third year, his height doing him no favors when mixed with the malnutrition he had dealt with for his first sixteen years of life on and off. It was just another thing the Dursley's had done that he resented them for. His short stature was made even more apparent by Ron, who stood towering nearly a full head above him. Sometimes he felt puny.

Hermione's bushy hair had returned full on from its relatively manageable state it had been in their last two years. The sight of it was enough to bring a smile to his face. Really he had missed the striking wild bush-like quality of it. Her wild mane always made him feel better about his own gravity defying Potter hair.

The three of them had discussed wearing glamors of changing their looks a few times over the summer only to come to the conclusion that it really wouldn't matter. Harry had his photo album that he was using as reference but from what he could see he really didn't look all that much like his father contrary to what everyone else always repeated, it was only the hair and glasses. Since he had done away with his bulky round spectacles he couldn't even recognize himself in the mirror. Ron on the other hand could be any old red head, it wasn't as if the Weasley's were the only family who had fiery red head, and sadly when wearing newer robes it was much more difficult to place him as the Weasley's of their time.

There was always the possibilities that the Weasley's of this time weren't, as Malfoy would call it 'dirt poor' with a bunch of extra insults inter-mixed. If that was the case then, good for them Harry thought not feeling too worried about the chance of them being recognized.

It seemed that the majority of the first years came up around Harry's chest or waist in height, at varying levels. He supposed he shouldn't be too surprised at how miniscule they were since the first years back in his time seemed to have the same disease as well. Hermione loved to point out they they had once been that small but Harry really couldn't recall a time when he was. Certainly when he was with the Dursley's there was the possibility for such a thing since he had slept in that cramped cupboard under the stairs but he really could not remember being that tiny.

He just hoped that this time around the hat wouldn't fall stupidly over his eyes, dwarfing his head as it had in his first year. Malfoy had been lucky enough to not be subjected to such humiliation as it never touched his head really but no, Harry had to peculiar. It had spoken to him, taking quite a while to determine where he was to be put.

Suddenly a queasy feeling filled his stomach as he chewed his lip worried over the sorting that he had just been quite confident about. What if the hat still wished to place him in Slytherin? While Professor Dumbledore had said that it was his choices that made him who he was he wasn't sure if his choices alone would be enough to deter it from the house of snakes. Ever since second year he could plainly see why it had contemplated that house, he had the ability of the Founder of it after all, something he still retained much to his displeasure. While he didn't dislike being able to converse with snakes it was just another thing that made him stand out where he would much rather fit in. Worse yet, it was something that if Tom Riddle of all discovered would make him seem interesting in the eyes of the future Dark Lord. Harry was quite determined to never again attract his attention since it had ruined his life the first time around. Honestly having a dark lord after your blood didn't exactly make for a peaceful life.

Drawn from his mind by the sudden silence coating the halls he peered up to see the Headmaster of the time, Armando Dippet as Hermione had informed. He was old, wrinkled, and swayed dangerously as he stood as if a strong wind could topple him over. Suddenly Harry was worried. The man's hands shook making Harry think of that he might have the wizarding version of arthritis. More than that though his aura was weak when compared to Professor Dumbledore's. It didn't demand attention, instead it was easy to be ignored, far too easy to ignore Harry thought with growing unease.

Now he understood how Riddle had gotten away with anything. The wizard he saw before him was in desperate need of retirement, that much was clear as day. Clearing his throat three times in he spoke voice hoarse making it seemed he usually had a cough now days, Harry wouldn't have been surprised it that were the case.

"Welcome to Hogwarts, those who are returning here after our summer break and those who are brand new to this wonderful institution of learning. As was the case last year we have some transfer students joining our ranks along with our usual batch of first years. Students I would ask that you give them all a warm welcome and help them out for their first few weeks until they have obtained a basic grasp of this maze like castle that still baffles from time to time." A few chuckles reverberated through the students, although they were weak in enthusiasm as if it was a common thing for Dippet to make not entirely funny jokes and they had learned to politely pretend amusement. Clearing his throat once more the Headmaster continued, "Now let's get on with the sorting, as I am sure you are all eager to partake of our lovely start of the year feast. First years shall lead the way followed by out transfers."

Once more the hall was drowned into silence, although this time it was only for a second before the familiar, and slightly less raggedy hat broke out in song. Like in the times of their own war it was a depressing piece telling of the current events and providing a bare warning for the times ahead. Previously cheery faces sobered, the trio not exempt from the mood that had enveloped the place. Their own minds were filled with memories of their time, their war, and the sorting hat's songs for it.

A swift change was brought to past as a voice from the trio's own past, this world's future called out the first name, "Abbott, Martin " His voice was stronger an more youthful than it had been in Harry's memory. No longer did it hold the air of a grandfatherly man but instead a wizard in his prime haunted by his own demons.

A small nervous first year cautiously stepped forward to begin his trek up to the wobbly old stool that Harry knew would still be in use half a century later. Like the hat it wasn't in as bad as a state as it had been for his own sorting as a first year but it still wasn't that much better. The child's hair was a auburn color being brown with the smallest tints of red that led Harry to believe they might have, at one point have married in with the Weasley's. It was a similar shade to the Hufflepuff, Hannah Abbott of his own time except he believed that the red had been a bit more prominent in Hannah's hair.

As expected the hat was placed upon the boy's head falling well over the eyes as it silently reached its conclusion before calling out, "HUFFLEPUFF," in a voice that seemed to shake the halls. The sorting had begun.

Clapping could be heard at each table with various degrees of enthusiasm. Slytherin's seemed to be more for the show of being polite as did the Ravenclaw ranks while Gryffindor appeared to do it for their own amusement and the fun of clapping. Hufflepuff of course was sincere in their welcome.

As the first round of clapping died down the young Professor Dumbledore did not hesitate to call out the next name, "Bulstrode, Sergius," getting a small but plump kid to make his way towards the waiting hat. Like the female Bulstrode of his time the child was quickly sorted into Slytherin. Harry noted the applause were a lot dimmer than it had been for the Hufflepuff as not even Slytherin was terribly enthusiastic about a newbie in their House.

Soon the third name was being called, "Bartemius Crouch." Harry suddenly paid more attention at the familiar name. Logically this would have been Barty Crouch Jr.'s father, that same father whose life seemed solely devoted to the ministry. As a small child he didn't look at all impressive or imposing like he would in the future. If Harry didn't know otherwise he wouldn't have guessed that the dark haired blond was one of the main reasons why he god-father hadn't received a trial before being shipped into Azkaban.

Even knowing about the first year's future as a politician and extremist he couldn't hold any animosity towards him. Crouch's death at the hand of his own son, the loyal death eater, and the fact that the small boy had yet to commit any of those acts made him less inclined to hold a grudge. Now, in his mind, the neat eleven year old was just another ones of those familiar names that had popped up. A first year like Bulstrode.

Still, it didn't particularly surprise Harry to hear him be sorted into Ravenclaw. It just seemed to fit him perfectly. The majority of the names after wards Harry tuned out only perking up slightly when he heard a familiar name be called. He tried to keep his reactions as contained as possible and believed himself to be doing well. Ron on the other hand had made his knowledge of a few names overly clear in Harry's opinion. Dutifully Hermione kept him in check making sure that he wouldn't draw suspicion with his impulsive, Gryffindor nature that Harry found in equal parts amusing and irritating at the moment.

Finally the first year portion of the sorting came to a clean finish with Spore, Leon who was ushered to Gryffindor and Urquart, Jaxon who joined Ravenclaw. Harry was in equal parts happy and disappointed to see the large bunch being done. On one hand his legs were beginning to ache but on the other it meant that his sorting was that much closer. Mentally he prayed that he'd be put anywhere but Slytherin.

This wish wasn't because any sort of childish reasoning or prejudice, rather it was due to who exactly was in Slytheirn currently. Harry didn't believe he could survive having to share a common room with a humanoid Voldemort and mini-Death Eaters, not when he just came from fighting them back in his own time. Sure he had the ability to mask his expressions like a Slytherin, it was a must during the war though. Everybody could do it, even someone as naturally open and friendly as Hermione. Hufflepuff's had begun to bear a worrisome resemblance to Slytherin's with their developed caution that came with living in dire times.

This time's Hogwart's population hadn't been so changed though. While he had heard that the war with Grindlewald was gruesome and costly for both Muggle and Wizard kind he was also keenly aware of the fact that it hadn't touched Wizarding Britain, and would only barely graze it before Grindlewald was defeated. Hermione's drilling of current history, and a bit of 'future' history had stuck with him leaving its lasting impression in the form of understanding the 'current' times.

None of these kids really knew war. Perhaps a small handful had suffered through the loss of loved ones in the conflict but unless they were more thoroughly exposed to the Muggle world or 'transfers' they were still naive in the ways of human cruelty that was brought out plainly in war. Their unburdened shoulders could never compare to him, and he knew already without a doubt that he would not ever fit in with them. There was a decent possibility of making friends with those who had transferred though, not that he felt that he really needed anyone else since he had Hermione and Ron. Still, he would keep the thought on a back burner considering the fact that they were a couple now. Additional friends in the case that the two got too caught up with each other wouldn't be frowned upon.

Thinking about the buddy relationship between his two longtime friends made him think of his own relationship with Ginny, a relationship that might have just been permanently ended not of his own consent. He had prepared for this. Well, not this as in time but he had been prepared to die in the war so it really shouldn't hurt as much as it did to think about never seeing the red-headed tomboy.

His eyes fell on Ron who must have felt a hundred times worse at the loss. It was his sister, and she was not the only one. If they couldn't figure out a way to return they would never again see Luna, Neville, Mrs. Weasley, Mr. Weasley, George, Bill, Charlie, all of them. Suddenly Harry felt ill.

There was nothing to be done about the wave of depression and sickness because the auburn haired replica of his old Headmaster called out his alias, "Evans, Hadrian," and Hermione was lightly pushing him forward to face the intelligent hat that he now believed used Legilimency on all of the first years every year.

At least time his name was not known. He wasn't a celebrity for something he couldn't remember accept in the odd dream that lead him to believe that the subconscious remembered far more than the conscious mind. When he was asleep he swore his memory was perfect, eidetic in fact. It was something to think on he supposed since he used to be able to remember everything perfectly. Was it the pressure that had caused his memory to suffer or perhaps something else he ponder for a moment as he sat gently on the not entirely stable stool.

Only a few seconds later Harry Potter, or Hadrian Evans became the first ever student to be sorted twice. The hat was eerily silent for a few minutes, just shuffling through the sudden influx of information, emotions, and goals of the head that he was rested upon. Finally it spoke in his mind a reverent 'thank you' that left Harry quite befuddled.

'For what?' He returned. Just the idea of being thanked by the ancient hat seemed odd in his mind, especially he wasn't used to hearing gratitude of any sort.

'For your devotion to Hogwart's and its protection. I have never sat upon the head of a previously sorted student so I suppose I can't probably judge on this part but you've done quite a bit for Hogwarts in your short life, definitely enough to deserve my measly thanks.' The hat chuckled lightly, his words making Harry who was unused to praise, .

'Um-Your welcome, I suppose' he mentally stammered making the hat smile a little before getting down to business.

'You've lived a hard life, harder than any that I have seen. As far as Houses go all of them are pretty open to you. Clearly you have the bravery and chivalry required of a Gryffindor and you are prone to your occasional bouts of recklessness. I see you've already been in the lion house though so I rather think that it is time to change things up a bit. Perhaps Hufflepuff but no, that bunch is too light and open for you ever to properly fit amongst their numbers even though you do have the Loyalty and Hardworking traits Helga looked for. Ravenclaw is far too studious for you, but filled with other independents that you'd do nicely with.'

The churning in Harry's stomach returned full force as he realized what the hat was about to suggest. Before he could request that the hat not place him the snake's den the hat interrupted with a reproachful tone.

'No, no, no, none of that. I'll not have you interfering a second time around. You belong in Slytherin and not only because of the Parseltongue ability you've inherited. A person doesn't survive as long as you did through the circumstances you were up against without having a fair amount of Slytherin qualities. Even when you first came to be sorted at eleven you were thoroughly Slytherin, the only reason I allowed you to be in Gryffindor was because you were so insistent, so sure. This time you will not force yourself into a mold you do not fit!' The hat exclaimed causing Harry to shrink into himself a bit. It wasn't often that you were reprimanded by a talking, thinking hat. He didn't even bother to argue anymore as the hat screamed out, "SLYTHERIN," loud enough to leave his ears ringing.

With a heavy sigh and a forced, weak smile he made his way begrudgingly over to the Slytherin table sliding in to a seat without even bothering to study who he had sat next to. If he had thought to look he might have realized that he was now seated quite close to the same Tom Marvolo Riddle he had been attempting to avoid. The surrounding him on both sides were future Death Eaters, but of course he was too lost in thought recuperating after getting a firm talking to by an ancient hat.

"You don't seemed pleased with your sorting." A slick voice stated from beside him, nearly making him jump as his hand reflexively reached for his wand. Quickly covering the movement he turned to face the person who had addressed him.

"It's not that, well not really. You see my friends were both aiming for Gryffindor and I was hoping that I'd be with them." He fibbed before continuing on an honest note knowing better to fully lie to a Slytherin. "The sorting hat lectured me about it though, he was quite...harsh." Harry finished wincing in remembrance.

The corner of the brown haired teen's lipped flinched up into a small smile, cracking the mask for a mila-second before returning to its previous state. "So you argued with the hat then?" He mildly laughed as Harry solemnly nodded watching as Hermione was sorted into Ravenclaw.

"The curly haired one is your friend then right?" The person to his left asked. His face resembled Sirius's so much that Harry barely manage to tone down the flicker of recognition at the sight. It tugged at his heart to see someone so similar and know that they were nothing like his godfather. For starters this Black was a Slytherin and was too genetically similar to be anything but Orion Black, Sirius' father who believed in the blood purity tosh. Come to think of it Black had been a member of Riddle's original circle he thought to himself quietly before freezing, realizing exactly what he had just been thinking about.

Swiveling his eyes discreetly around him his heart plummeted with dread. Sure enough Riddle was only two seats away and across the table from him with someone who had to be Malfoy's grandfather and another richly dressed teen to his right. Suddenly the vague familiarity of all of the faces came crashing down on him. He was seated in the midst of miniature Death Eaters.

He nodded numbly in response to Orion's question suddenly not feeling like talking anymore. The voice so much like his deceased godfather plowed on, "Bad luck then her being in Ravenclaw, they'll probably get her so involved in books that she'll never have time for anything fun."

At that a small smile turned up the corners of Harry's lips as he shook his head resolutely. "No, 'Mione's already a book worm , if anything she'll be making the Ravenclaw's more studious." He lightly laughed thinking back to how much Hermione had panicked during their OWLS week the first time around. An unwanted thought struck his mind, they had been placed in fifth year...again. He'd have to repeat his OWLS.

A difference between his godfather as made blatantly obvious as Orion Black laughed, the sound was too smooth, and too controlled to have been even remotely similar to Sirius' bark like laughter. Once more he was mourning the loss of the closest thing to a parent he had ever gotten to know. A part of him heard that the Russian siblings names Krum, Zacary being the seventh year and is sister or cousin Krum, Stacia. Both of them became new additions to the Slytherin house. This time around he made note of how the students scooted away from the middle of the table towards the ends after a small, barely noticeable nod from the wavy haired future dark lord.

Harry wasn't sure whether to be worried or not that Riddle had gotten him to sit amongst his minions. There was still the possibility that Voldemort liked to know a bit about everyone that he would be sharing a house with but the fact that the first years were seated away from them made him not so certain on that account. Perhaps then it was the transfer students? Oh, he hoped so as it would mean he personally hadn't done anything to attract Riddle's attention. After the seventh year transfer from Beaubox joined them in the middle he was feeling a lot better about himself. Everything pointed to it being Riddle wanting to check over the transfers before they became a full part of the house.

It honestly didn't surprise Harry when Ron was sorted into Gryffindor, he really didn't fit in any other house. Ron was the definition of a Gryffindor in Harry's mind with reckless bravery and some chivalry. Harry just hoped that Ron wasn't go to react negatively to Harry being placed in Slytherin. After being friends with him since he was eleven he figured that was a lost hope since Ron's views on Slytherins was unwavering in its intensity. Countless times Ron had gone off on a tangent about how inherently evil all Slytherins were. Years of friendship though, and being a Gryffindor the first time around might be able to smooth out the issues that Harry's sorting had undoubtedly caused, at least he prayed that it would.

The pale aristocractic albino turned to him, Malfoy although his face resembled less of a ferret than Draco's the pompous air was not at all diminished. "So then please tell me you are at least a Halfblood." He eyed Harry as if he was a particularly disgusting piece of rotting meat and Harry had to bite down the urge to tell him off or curse him for his bigoted remark.

For a moment he contemplated claiming that he was a Muggleborn just for the sake of allowing the blond to think that the House of Snakes had become 'infected' but shook it off knowing that to do so wouldn't be wise. Besides Harry wasn't the best liar in the world so he stuck to the truth. "Although I don't believe that it matters, I am what people like you would label as a Halfblood." He conceded grudgingly.

Malfoy nodded firmly although his eyes narrowed into slits at the first half of his remark. Having expected his aversion to anyone who didn't believe in the blood tripe Harry merely ignored the action and turned to look at his empty place. It had been a few days since he last ate and he was utterly famished. Dippet needed to hurry up with his speech he thought impatiently.

Of course he by far wasn't the only one thinking that if the expressions of boredom and drowsiness coating the vast majority of his peer's faces was anything to go by. While his introductory speech was quick enough the old man appeared to love rules, regulation, and education and believe his enthusiasm was widely shared. Standing up at the podium he was going on and on in weak but happy tones about all of the rules of Hogwarts, the amazing education it offered, and suggestions for study patterns. Harry sworn the man had been a Ravenclaw during his own time at Hogwarts.

Finally Dippet finished the recitation, none of the rules were any different so Harry had toned most of it out. As it always did the food appeared courtesy of the House Elves and looked as mouth watering as it did in his own time. With a beaming smile Harry started piling his plate, much to the disgust of Malfoy who appeared very disturbed by his large portion.

"Please tell me you are not planning on eating all of that, and do try to demonstrate some table manners." the blond pleaded his voice filled with contempt. Abraxas Malfoy had come to the conclusion that Hadrian Evans was not fit to be in Slytherin at all as he lacked the proper decorum that the rest of his beloved house had in aces. Already he had decided that the boy messy black haired teen was at least a third year although definitely not in his own year if his short stature was anything to go by. His mental musings were interrupted by the boy's response.