10 Scarred Timeline
Some were scared, others seemed surprised, and a few were too nervous about the sorting to care. Thomas himself did not pay much attention to the hubbub of voices as multiple ghosts - Fat Friar, Bloody Baron, and others - appeared.
He had other concerns than the living dead. 'The Sorting Hat can read the minds of students. But it can't share any of its findings - or am I confusing canon with fanon?'
'Either way, if that were the case, it would have sounded the alarms as soon as it peered into Tom Riddle's twisted mind. Well, that is if the man was that rotten from the beginning.'
Tapping his feet on the flagged stone floor, Thomas slowly assessed his situation. 'I wouldn't be able to master Occlumency in only one month anyway. Besides, I couldn't find any books about it when we were in Flourish and Blotts.'
'So, evading the hat's piercing gaze is beyond my capabilities. But then there are other Legilimens in Hogwarts - Dumbledore, Snape, and Quirrell with the parasitic Dark Lord - and I have to prepare accordingly.'
'I will be relying on my little sister's info here. She better be right with those crazy theories of hers.' He couldn't help but remember her using charts and diagrams to explain why Dumbledore was pure evil. 'She was a bit manic, but that's fine.'
'I must enter the Room of Requirement. There, I can access all of the resources I need for proper planning and training - including, of course, books about the Mind Arts.'
'There is also borrowing Violet's invisibility cloak, but I'm still on the fence. I don't want to steal one of her only memories of her parents, regardless of how useful it may be. Maybe if circumstances call for it later.'
Of course, those weren't his only options. Already, Thomas could see how the Marauder's Map would help wonders. 'And - yet - I have no idea where it currently is located.'
'Those things could have changed too, like Potter somehow being a girl in this universe. Better to take everything I know with a grain of salt.' Later, he would need to assess and investigate the accuracy of his info-
All the voices in the surroundings suddenly quietened, eliciting his attention. Bringing his gaze back to the other first-years, he instantly narrowed down the reason for the silence.
Malfoy had his chest puffed out - chin pointed up - like a peacock, and his distinctive light blonde hair gelled back. The boy smirked, prattling on and on as if his voice sounded too good to hide.
And, by the sounds of his annoying voice, the ferret was making fun of Ron Weasley. Laughing at the other boy for fearing he'd have to defeat a Troll as part of the sorting. "No worries there, Weasley. Trolls don't attack their kin."
'Damn, that's surprisingly good coming from Malfoy! It's also surprising that both still argued even though Potter has yet to make her grand entry.' Thomas, Hermione, and Violet stood on the perimeter of the group of first years.
"I was hoping I could have met Violet Potter on the way here, but I have to deal-" Draco eyed Ron's clothes with disgust, scrunching up his nose. "-with people like you."
Violet had stiffened at her name's mention, and Thomas couldn't help but notice her expression ever so slightly close up. 'For all of her barb, I suppose she still has some similarities to the original, reclusive - wants to be normal - Harry Potter.'
When he paid more attention to the scene, however, Thomas could notice some animosity in the crowd. A blonde girl in fine robes and the same black-haired girl who shared their boat sneered ever so lightly at Malfoy.
Of course, a few others shared this reaction, but these two were the most noticeable. 'I have no idea of who those two are. Maybe some of the unmentioned students.'
One way or another, he shrugged, eyeing in amusement as Malfoy puffed out his chest even more so. Behind him, Goyle and Crabbe stood at attention, an empty expression on their squared faces. Pansy Parkinson - who wasn't ugly as the books lead you to believe - swooned like a sick dove.
'I'm hoping Occlumency can make my memory retention better. I don't ever want to forget this.' Thomas snickered, and Malfoy chose that exact moment to stop talking.
One could hear a pin drop as his quiet scoff echoed in that momentary silence. Like whiplash, Malfoy swiveled his head to stare at Thomas, face scrunched up in anger. "Think something is funny?"
'The heck- how did I swap places with Ron Weasley?' He raised a single eyebrow, wholly unimpressed with whatever Fate shenanigans might be going on.
"Well? Did I say something funny-" Malfoy couldn't even end his sentence - Thomas had neither the patience nor the willingness to put up with some schoolyard-level intrigue.
So he took the opportunity to needle and annoy the other boy, not a modicum of seriousness given to the situation. He needed to enjoy all the perks of this new life, after all.
Which included, of course, 'punting the child' as they say - something he couldn't do as an adult in his previous life, unfortunately.
"Well, not really." Thomas shrugged, still smiling. "But you are amusing." A second of silence filled the room, Draco rubbing the rusty gears in his head together to understand his meaning.
As if to break the lapse in sound, a quiet giggle came from his right. Hermione held her right hand over her mouth, snickering. 'The heck- who is this girl?'
And, to his left, Violet also smiled. Immediately, Malfoy's attention latched onto both, and his eyes lit up as he noticed the lightning scar peeking from beneath Violet's hair.
As he opened his mouth, Thomas could somehow foretell what the boy was about to say - word for word even. Draco was about to talk down to him, mentioning the low quality of his robes.
Then, he would introduce himself to Violet, saying that some wizards were better than others. And The-Girl-Who-Lived would refuse his friendship, thus starting their rivalry. It was an iconic scene in both the movies and books.
The world seemed to shift, a draft of chilling air pervading his senses. It was like the script had adjusted itself to his existence - somehow - and he swapped places with Ron in the Golden Trio.
It could be just his imagination, too, but the room corners darkened, growing colder. Whispers just at the fringes of his mind, lulling sweet words. A shiver crawled up his spine, feeling watched.
The very next second, however, he reacted. Before Malfoy could go on and open his mouth, Thomas pointed behind him, a fake expression of surprise on his face.
Most of the children turned around, and Thomas touched the wand he hid in his robes. Live current crawled up his arms, and brief flashes of his death spurned him on. The change in emotions was so abrupt he did not even question it.
'Alohomora.' He hissed inside his mind, waving his wand sharply, and the spell took hold over the Grand Hall's doors. Immediately, he felt vertigo from putting so much strength into the Unlocking Charm.
The enormous doors opened regardless, groaning as they did. The corners in the room grew colder, drafts of air rasping along the flagged stone floor before disappearing. Gulping, Thomas said. "They must be calling us in for the sorting."
The surprised expression on McGonagall's face told the exact opposite, but they didn't need to know that. Despite the temporary shiver on his spine, Thomas carried on, spurring the others forward.
'Like hell I'm being tossed around to the whims of some pre-destined-esque shit.' His wand sang, agreeing with fervor.
[ - - - ]
As soon as they stepped inside the Grand Hall, Thomas could feel how warm the magic in the air was, a vibrant hum that embraced him. The castle itself seemed to welcome them - a sharp contrast to the cold aura he felt just seconds ago.
Thousand of candles hovered above them, casting down their tender glow. They swayed in the air, shifting in position. And, at the very end of the Grand Hall, long windows loomed over the professor's table.
The moonlight streamed in, shining over the backs of each teacher. Thomas could see McGonagall's confusion at their early entrance. Before she could do anything about it, though, the Sorting Hat took the cue to start singing.
Her face went through a wide range of emotions, finally settling on resignation. Quickly, she hurried to the side and picked up a roll call list - it rested atop some other documents on the long table.
Thomas took the moment to glance over the faces of all his future professors - making sure to avoid eye contact. As he expected, every single one of them was there: Flitwick, McGonagall, Snape, Dumbledore, Sprout-
'What the hell is even that?' Quirinus Quirrell sat on his chair, posture straight and measured, no turban in sight. He was bald, striking a rugged appearance without the head ornament. Even more so with the thick scar running through his right eyebrow to the chin.
A small smile marred his face, the man happily talking with Pomona Sprout to his right side. He did not stutter even once, and his hands rested on top of the table, curled together.
Thomas mutely dragged his gaze elsewhere, wanting to avoid attention from staring at Quirrell for too long. 'What is going on?! Did he not get possessed by Voldemort in Albania? Where did that scar come from?'
A thousand questions darted around his head, and he could almost swear the pervasive cold had come back, laughing at him from the corners of the Grand Hall. As if on cue, the Sorting Hat also finished its song at that exact moment.
The older students watched from their respective house tables, their expressions ranging from curiosity to amusement. Some merely stared, while others leaned in to share hushed conversations.
None took note of the single first year who looked confused and lost amidst all the of new students. Thomas couldn't even pay attention to the sorting as his mind went through every single possibility.
'What if Quirrell wasn't possessed? Then what? Who will be the first year threat?' He did not pay attention to any of the sorting, not even when his sister was called forth. Or when she was sorted in Gryffindor.
His thoughts were constantly hounded by a sickening emotion, one he only felt when mocked or belittled. Cold drafts of air slithered around the Grand Hall - he could feel it - and there was something watching him in amusement.
His wand became hotter to the touch, his right hand wrapping around it in search of comfort. Slowly, he felt his emotions settle, becoming motionless. 'Okay, fine.'
The calling of his name sounded louder than it should, that same low drumming in his veins quickening in speed. He walked forth, gaze focused on the Sorting Hat.
'Whatever it is, I will deal with it.' He thought as he sat on the stool, head swimming with plans and objectives he had to complete. 'No exceptions made.'
He wouldn't die the same way he did in his first life, without reason and without achieving all of his goals. The hat lowered onto his head slowly then, touching but a single string of dark hair-
"SLYTHERIN!" The Sorting Hat bellowed, voice echoing in the Grand Hall.
'Say what?'
