Our Corrupted Souls

Part XXVII: Harry James Potter

"Maybe history wouldn't have to repeat itself if we listened once in awhile."

                                   ― Wynne McLaughlin

The roaring Great Hall ceased. Everyone seemed to have lost their tongue. No lips were moving, and no one's voice was heard. Yet, the silence spoke louder than Dumbledore's booming voice. The headmaster stood up, eyes glimmering with curiosity.

At last, the silence was interrupted. "It seems we have an unexpected guest," said McGonagall. "Perhaps, you were missed... what is your name, dear?"

And what he's attempted to avoid happened; everyone would know his name now—his face.

"Harry James Potter."

A noticeable gasp escaped everyone's lips, every student stood in awe, all but two. Malfoy had a mix of fanaticism and anger. Anger for looking like a fool in front of the Harry Potter. But a certain girl only smirked. She looks down at the journal on her lap.

The headmaster stood. He was the only one that moved. McGonagall had kept her composure and brought her hand to her mouth, covering her silent gasp. The scroll had almost slipped from her hands.

It had been rumored that Harry Potter was dead. There was no sign of him. Of no Potter since the attack in their household. The many that had held on to hope had said that the family ran away to the Americas to hide, where Voldemort could not reach them. But the popularity said that the Potters had perished, hence Voldemort's alarming unprecedented rise to power. Harry Potter had become nothing more than a legend. Those who had seen the boy were Remus Lupin and Sirius Black; and although their name signifies something other than murderers now, the general public did not believe their allegations that Harry Potter did ever exist.

Until now.

"Impossible," she muttered at last.

McGonagall finally averted her eyes from the boy and onto the paper in her hands. And there it was, Harry James Potter. His name was written as clear as day, written down the day he was born and crossed out to be forgotten the day he and his family went missing—what happened when a child was declared dead by London's Ministry of Magic.

Harry did not wish to remain standing there like a fool. He hated this attention. So he began walking towards the stool with the old hat. No one stopped him. No one attempted to intervene. They were all statues.

"Ah, yes," said the old hat once it touched his head, the only voice to make a sound. "You are the complex individual. The three brothers lie within you. Ah, yes. Bravery and honor are in your code... But vengeance...it has taken over. Peace, you seek it. You seek your family and tranquility....but it won't be granted until you get what you have come back for... This time, I'll do right... SLYTHERIN!"

Everyone remained at a standstill. Harry lowered from the steps. The silence, however, was not bound to last an eternity. Slowly, Daphne clapped. A boy next to her, who thought she was really pretty, joined. She elbowed Malfoy, who was staring, to get him to join. Reluctantly, he did, bringing Goyle and Crabbe to join. Soon, all of Slytherin welcomed the chosen. Daphne made room for the boy next to her and Malfoy.

"Seems like we're together for the next seven years," she said, causing Malfoy to roll his eyes.

~*~

There was nothing but blank noise. The entire room soon forgot all about the boy who had risen from the dead. Many talked about the adventures the school would bring to them, others chose to talk in whispers, afraid of the ghosts floating throughout the hall. He did not attempt to spark a conversation, but it did not matter. Soon the headmaster stood up. The candles in the dining hall dimmed and leftover food disappeared. The students' whispers and the subject of conversation soon disappeared to be replaced by the clearing of Albus Dumbledore's throat.