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Some of the girls giggled. Most of the boys snickered.
Harry tried to remind himself that he was really seventeen years old and he didn't care what these snot-nosed brats thought. Except of course that he really did care. A lot.
"She said we should smarten ourselves up" Harry offered lamely. "There isn't much I can do about my hair but, well, I'd like the honor of escorting you in anyway."
Daphne still did not touch his arm.
Desperately, Harry tried to remember what that stupid book Ron had given him one year would have suggested. His mind was utterly blank.
Dammit!
"Please?"
Daphne's expression softened. Small, uncertain fingers took his arm. She smiled tentatively at him, her face suspiciously pink. Harry felt shockingly hot and was probably bright red himself. He grinned back, pure relief making him feel light and bright.
Next to him, Neville blushed as he offered his arm to Hermione. She sniffed but took his arm. She was blushing.
Draco offered his arm to Pansy and Ron blushed scarlet but asked to escort Hannah Abbott in. The ghost arrived sometime during the introductions and offers. They tutted about and cheerfully helped the shyer members o f the class like Theodore Nott and Tracy Davis and Nancy Moon. By the time Professor McGonagall came back, everyone was paired off and giggling as the couples took turns taking pictures of each other with Harry's camera. They followed her in two ragged lines, boys in one line escorting the girls in the other. Harry and Daphne lead the procession. Someone was good enough to pass Harry's camera up the procession to Daphne who passed Harry's camera to him just as they were entering the Great Hall.
As soon as he set foot in the room, Harry felt a little frisson of excitement and a little pop of power. Automatically Harry turned to look for its source. His eyes met Albus Dumbledore's across the length of the Great Hall. The old man was clutching his wand in an iron grip.
A murmur of sound moved through the Great Hall, like the waves at the seaside.
This time, Harry cheered for everyone who was Sorted, regardless of which House they ended up in. Of course there were whispers when it was Harry's turn. Throughout it all the Elder Wand hummed and jerked in Dumbledore's grip as it sang to Harry. Where Harry's own wand had been like an overeager puppy in its excitement, the Elder Wand was like a purposeful, if excited, wolf: it was only a matter of time until it found its way to Harry. When it was his turn on the stool, Harry desperately tried to keep his mind solely focused on remembering the way the ceiling of the Great Hall looked that night.
When Professor McGonagall plopped the hat on Harry's head, the hat once again covered his eyes.
"Hmmmmm" it hummed in his head. "I've already sorted you once before Mr. Potter but as far as I know we've never met. How can that be?"
Harry worked very hard at only remembering the ceiling.
"It's only the two of us" the hat wheedled.
'You'll tell Dumbledore!' Harry thought fiercely before he could stop himself.
"I will not!" the hat exclaimed indignantly. "This is just between you and me. Not even the Headmaster of Hogwarts has a right to know what happens under me."
'So you haven't told him anything about Tom Marvolo Riddle's mind?'
"No. Not even when he asks."
Harry slowly relaxed. He felt a gentle touch skim over his relaxing mental shields.
"A very nice beginning" hummed the Sorting Hat. "Your foundations are solid but soon you'll need to find a teacher. Just a little more…"
This time Harry felt it when the Sorting Hat slipped into his mind. He felt it rifle through his memories of the other timeline.
"Godric and Helga never mastered those sorts of soul magics" the Sorting Hat said at last. "After that unfortunate falling out with Salazar, they spent their lives trying to find a way to go back and fix things."
'Godric and Helga? Why would they have tried?'
"They shared your famous ancestor! Before she married Hufflepuff, Helga's name was Helga Gryffindor. Time – and that dratted 'history book' – seem to have forgotten that."
'So I'm –'
"Godric's heir in every sense of the word. Dumbledore was prevaricating when he told you otherwise. Helga's too if poor Tom murdered her last direct descendent."
'Poor Tom.' Harry considered that for a moment or two then agreed, 'He didn't deserve what happened to him. Before he grew up and became a monster. Then no one deserved what he did to them.'
"I'd quite like to speak with you again."
'Because I'm a Founder's descendant?'
"So cynical! You're much more like Salazar than my creator! Godric has a great many descendants. Lately, I've rarely gotten through a Sorting without speaking with one of his descendents. I stand by my first assertion even if I no longer remember making it – you would do quite well in Slytherin House. You're ambitioned and destined for greatness. I wish to speak with you because you've grown up, Mr. Potter, into quite an interesting young man. At my age very few people are truly interesting anymore."
'Help keep making things interesting. Sort me into Gryffindor again.'
"I am sorry but I can't Sort you" the Hat said sadly. "Once is all anyone ever gets."
Harry snatched the Sorting Hat off.
Professor McGonagall frowned down at him. "Mr. Potter you must leave the hat on until it finishes Sorting you."
"It won't Sort me."
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Want to know what happens next?100+ advanced chapters await you on Patreon! Be the first to read what others will have to wait for. Join the community and read ahead today!
(P).(A).(T).(R).(E).(O).(N)
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