Time Turner

NINE

I hear the hat shout the last word to the whole hall. I take off the hat and walk shakily towards the Gryffindor table, where Ron, Harry, and Hermione all clap and cheer frantically. I sit down opposite of them, next to the ghost in ruff I'd seen earlier. The ghost pats my arm, giving me the sudden, horrible feeling that I just plunged it into a bucket of ice-cold water.

Nana (the only owl present, I've noticed) sees me and makes a dive for my shoulder, where she decides to perch. She's become almost as bad as my mom.

"Glad you made it, Izuku," Harry smiles.

"Yeah," Ron agrees with a grin, "for a second, I thought you were going to be placed in Slytherin."

"Me too, but I guess the hat decided against it," I laugh a little. "I almost thought it was going to make a separate House just for me. It'd probably be something like," I think for a second, "Slyther-claw-ffle-dor: the House for the Undecided."

"Yeah," Hermione laughs, "that was a pretty long sorting, probably the longest one since Harry's," she points.

"Did the hat want to out you in all four Houses too?" I ask him, leaning forward in anticipation.

Harry shook his head, his brow furrowing slightly. "No, it just thought I should've been in Slytherin."

Ron smirks a little. "You two should start a club. Those of you who weren't originally going to be put in your respective Houses now belong in Slyther-claw-ffle-dor," he laughs, "You could make little badges and everything!"

Finally, with "Whitby, Kevin!" ("HUFFLEPUFF!"), the Sorting ends. Professor McGonagall picks up the hat and the stool and carries them away.

"About time," says Ron, seizing his knife and fork, looking expectantly at his golden plate.

Professor Dumbledore gets to his feet, smiling around at the students. His arms are open wide in welcome. "If you hadn't already noticed, we have a fourth-year transfer student: Izuku Midoriya."

Everyone in the Hall turns and looks in my direction, and blush creeps up my neck and face.

"Now," he continues, "I only have two more words to say to you," he tells us, his deep voice echoing around the Hall. "Tuck in."

The students cheer as the empty dishes magically fill before their eyes. I smile, "This is incredible!"

I have never seen so many foods on one table, none Japanese though: roast beef, roast chicken, pork chops and lamb chops, sausages, bacon and steak, boiled potatoes, roast potatoes, fries, Yorkshire pudding, peas, carrots, gravy, ketchup, and, for some reason, peppermint humbugs.

"That does look good," says the ghost in ruff sadly, watching as I cut my steak.

"Oh," I say, "would you like some?" I offer him some off of my plate.

"I haven't eaten for nearly five hundred years," the ghost says. "I don't need to, of course, but one does miss it."

I look to the ground. "I'm sorry."

The ghost waves his hand. "No need to apologize, besides, I don't think I've introduced myself. Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington at your service. Resident ghost of Gryffindor Tower."

"Hey, Nick," Harry greets with a mouth full of potatoes.

"I would prefer you to call me Sir Nicholas de Mimsy- you know what? Nevermind; you lot only know me as Nearly Headless Nick anyways," he says sniffly.

Ron laughs.

"You're lucky there's a feast at all, you know," says Nearly Headless Nick. "There was trouble in the kitchens earlier."

"Why? What happened?" Harry asks.

"Peeves, of course," says Nearly Headless Nick, shaking his head, wobbling dangerously. He pulls his ruff a little higher up on his neck. "The usual argument, you know. He wanted to attend the feast- well it's quite out of the question, you know what he's like, utterly uncivilized, can't see a plate of food without throwing it. We held a ghost's council- the Fat Friar was all for giving him the chance- but most wisely, in my opinion, the Bloody Baron put his foot down."

Nearly Headless Nick glances at me and explains, "The Bloody Baron is the Slytherin ghost, one of the only people at Hogwarts who can really control Peeves."

"Oh," I say simply. What else can I say? I don't have any idea what's happening. Who's Peeves? Why do the Houses have ghosts?

I continue listening to their squabbling as I eat my food. Apparently, Hermione is, what I'm now calling, an Elf Sympathizer (not that I'm upset about it; Ron and Harry are though), and now, she's refusing to eat, saying that 'slave labor' is how they'd obtained their meal.

"So!" says Dumbledore, smiling around at us all. All of our plates have just been cleared of desserts. "Now that we are all fed and watered, I must once more ask for your attention, while I give out a few notices.

"Mr. Filch, the caretaker, has asked me to tell you that the list of objects forbidden inside the castle has this year been extended to include Screaming Yo-yos, Ranged Frisbees, and Ever-Bashing Boomerangs."

What?

He continues on with a smile. "The full list comprises some four hundred and thirty-seven items, I believe, and can be viewed in Mr. Filch's office, if anyone would like to check it."

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth twitch. "As ever, I would like to remind you that the forest on the grounds is out-of-bounds to students, as is the village of Hogsmeade to all below third year.

"It is also my painful duty to inform you that the Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not take place this year."

"What?" people around me gasp. I look between the tables, seeing many students mouthing soundlessly, looking too appalled to even speak.

Dumbledore goes on, "This is due to an event that will be starting in October, and continuing throughout the school year, taking up much of the teachers' time and energy- but I'm sure you will all enjoy it immensely. I have great pleasure in announcing that this year at Hogwarts-"

At this moment, there is a deafening rumble of thunder and the doors of the Great Hall bang open.

A man stands in the doorway, leaning upon a staff, shrouded in a black traveling coat. Every head in the Great Hall swivels towards the stranger, suddenly brightly illuminated by a fork of lightning that flashes across the ceiling. He lowers his hood, shakes out a long mane of grizzled, dark grey hair, then walks up towards the teachers' table.

A dull clunk echoes through the Hall on his every other step. He reaches the end of the top table, turns right, and limps heavily towards Dumbledore. Another flash of lightning crosses the ceiling. Across from me, Hermione gasps.

I guess these people have never seen a face like his. It almost reminds me of the mutant-type quirk we have back in my time.

Every inch of skin on his face seems to be scarred. His mouth looks like a diagonal gash, and a large chunk of his nose is missing. Maybe it is his eyes that made him look like he owns a quirk.

One of them is small, dark, and beady. The other is large, round as a coin, and a vivid, electric blue (not unlike Todoroki's, actually). The blue eye is moving carelessly, without blinking, and is rolling up, down, and from side to side, quite independently of the normal eye- and then is rolls rights over, pointing into the back of the man's head, so that all we can see is whiteness.

The stranger reaches Dumbledore. He stretches out a hand that is as badly scarred as his face, and Dumbledore shakes it, muttering something none of us can hear. He seems to be making some inquiry of the stranger, who shakes his head unsmiling and replies in an undertone. Dumbledore nods and gestures the man to the empty seat in his right-hand side.

The stranger sits down, shakes his mane of dark gray hair out of his face, pulls a plate of sausages towards him, raises it to what is left of his nose, and sniffs it. He then takes a small knife out of his pocket, spears a sausage on the end of it, and begins eating. His normal eye is fixed upon his sausages, but the blue eye is still darting restlessly around in its socket, taking in the Hall and the students.

"May I introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?" says Dumbledore brightly into the silence. "Professor Moody."