Nine Lives and Bad Luck

12

       Albus Dumbledore had held out hope throughout the summer- throughout the years if he was being honest- that Harry Potter would just show up at this year's sorting completely unknowing of all the chaos he had caused or, indeed, of who he even was to the wizarding world. Yet, as he scanned through the crowd of incoming first years he knew it was not to be. For nowhere in sight was the messy black hair a perfect image of his father's that he had seen that fateful night, nor the delicate, pale skin of his mother- although that could have been written off as through sun exposure and time, the Potter hair had been notorious for decades before even James, and was also nowhere in sight.

      He noted Minerva would doubtless gain another Weasley to her 'collection' at the sight of the ruffled red haired boy. He too located Longbottom, the image of his father, albeit a bit more round, with perhaps the nose of his mother- maybe the boy would someday become the new hope for the wizarding world, if he was anything like his parents he would fit the role well. Both had been good, solid people. He also recognized the platinum blond hair of Lucius's greatly praised son and the similarly light, although their's was more a sandy blond, colored hair of a Richardson- quite certainly another for Hufflepuff, as was becoming the tradition. He also recognized the Patil twins standing near what he could guess was another Parkinson- a family friendship no doubt, with any luck some time amongst the lions would fix that no matter the former's mother and latter's aunt forcing the three together.

    His eyes glanced over the first years again this time landing on haunting green eyes. He had only seen eyes like that once before.  Dumbledore took in the owner of the eyes, average height and weight, with just above shoulder length hair in a deep, but not dark, blood red and green eyes. Green, green eyes.

    He could see something beneath the hair on his face, but it seemed too large to be the famous scar. Blue ribbons were wound about and held back the braided hair, a yellow scarf hung, tied loosely around his neck. While the second was certainly odd, it wasn't the second thing that caught his attention.

    The child- for he wasn't entirely sure whether they were a second Lily come to haunt him for losing her son or a male version of her to mock him even further- moved purposefully with a graceful, cat like, gliding step, silent amongst the chattering students. The wide green eyes glanced over the hall once, taking it in with a single sweep, before settling on the head table. Their head tilted to the side seeing the eyes on him and then, once more simply dismissing it as the painfully familiar killing curse green eyes drifted towards the hat an amused smile forming on the face.

Albus felt frozen in place for a few long moments before realization struck, surely the newest dark lord would not rise just yet, once more completing the cycle he had resigned himself as stuck in. The past one- Voldemort- still remained unvanquished (here his eyes drifted to the stuttering professor near his side) and the next one had yet to make her move.  

     Quiet, but composed beyond most preteens, and yet still so different than Grindelwald or Riddle or even Jones had been when he had last seen them or even when they had attended Hogwarts themselves. It was odd. The last cycle had yet to be fulfilled, his third Dark Lord at large his fourth had yet to begin and yet rather than the stage being set for both the end and beginning, there stood the fifth. (And while they were not truly 'his' ever since Gellert, another hero was destined to vanquish them, he thought of them as such since it seemed he alone could see the signs, he alone was forced to gather forces to oppose them even if it was no longer him who dealt the final blow)

     He wasn't sure how to proceed from where things were, but Voldemort's end was near now for sure, because the cycle was continuing.

In no time, even with the occasional hat stall, Minerva reached 'P' and paused just before where the name Potter would show, she sent him a confused look, before continuing, her worry showing as she called out in a ringing voice the next name on the list.

     It would seem Harry Potter would not attend this year, but he could always hope for the next one. If need be Neville Longbottom would do just as finely, he was sure.  A martyr for the world's continuation, it was a painful trade to make either way, but it had to be.

Glancing over at his staff he found Minerva looking mildly disappointed despite resolutely continuing- no doubt she too remembered what he had looked like and had been looking forward to seeing her favorite student, even if it was as his son. Meanwhile Filius didn't seem to notice the lack of a certain name and looked thrilled- nearly bouncing in excitement (he always was overly excited at the sorting- something  Dumbledore found greatly amusing and admirable- but this was more so than usual). Dumbledore couldn't see why he would be so thrilled. Lily had been a favorite of his, where was the disappointment at losing the chance to teach her son?

       And then Filius let out a squeak as another name was called up and Dumbledore directed his attention to Severus as he stared at the child, somewhat paler than usual, but with a degree of calculation. Blinking worriedly, he followed the others vision to see the haunting green eyed specter had been called up. Sitting down smoothly onto the stool, the hat quickly fell to cover his face and Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was left to his musings.

This year clearly wouldn't be what he had expected, but he hadn't known what to expect for this year ever since the last Potter had gone missing, so it wasn't all that different than the situation before; at least this year he was able to keep an eye on them. His eyes darted to his staff again. And it was hardly as if he was the only one who had gotten a surprise. Yes, it would be an interesting year, but he was hardly unprepared for it.

The Hall was filled with the noise of shuffling, it had been over five minutes since the last student had sat on the stool to be sorted and yet still they sat there face hidden beneath the brim- nearly two whole minutes more than the previous longest sorting that year. (The longest sorting in Hogwart's history had been a full five hours during which Avery Jenkins- the said past student who held the record- had nearly fallen of the stool twice. The feast had gone on without him as a fifth table was summoned for the remaining first years as they waited. That had been many, many years ago and those first years had became known as the year with the greatest house unity)

     "Then it must be.... Gryffindor!" Standing from the stool, he froze to scatter applause and moved to the table of the lions with an encouraging glance to the next first year who was called up as he passed by.

"Hello, I'm Parvati, you're Hadrian, right?"

"Oh, uh, yeah, but I go by Asphodel- it's my middle name."