NOVEL NEXT Chapter 12: Chapter 12
Chapter 12
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.
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