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This story is No. 3 in the series "Correcting Past Mistakes". You may wish to read the series introduction and the preceeding stories first.

Summary: Ragnarok is about to start the new term at Hogwarts, and things are going to be substantially different this time around.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > GeneralGreywizardFR18535,3861111738,14415 May 0910 May 13No

Chapter Four

Author's Note: I rewrote most of the Sorting Hat's song, but the last few lines said pretty much exactly what I wanted to say, so I'm borrowing them from JKR. Which just goes to prove, she didn't do *everything* in the books wrong. Just a lot of it. ;-)

~/~

The Great Hall
Hogwarts Castle

September 1, 1995
Early evening


In days of old, when magic was bold,
And Hogwarts new and novel,
The Founders of our noble school
Sought to build more than a mere hovel.
Driven by a common goal,
The Founding Four each had a yearning,
That knowledge endured
So, they ensured their passing on their learning.
And so it went for many a year,
And harmony did ensue,
'Til discord did eventually appear,
And their dreams were shattered by a few
Whose ambitions sought to rule o'er all,
Using bigotry and malice
And dividing others with a wall
Of prejudice they broke apart this palace.
Four houses divided can never unite
Regardless of your yearning
'Til those brave enough to see the light
Of education, hope and learning
Are strong enough to stand
Against intolerance, hate and greed
But first, to show the sheep they need not fear
The shepherds must plant a seed.
If you would oppose the Dark and uphold the Light,
Choose carefully, my friend,
Lest history repeat, you'll need to fight,
Or your world will surely meet its end.
So, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From both external and internal foes.
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within.
I have told you, I have warned you,
Let the sorting now begin.


"Whoa. Now, that's trippy," Xander declared quietly to Sabrina as the two of them stood behind the horde of First Years gathered together in the annex to the Great Hall. They stared in fascination at a patched, extremely frayed and rather dirty-looking example of ancient wizarding haberdashery which had launched into a rather ominous-sounding song once the upper classes had been seated. After all, you normally don’t see that kind of behavior from headwear.

"Definitely," the gorgeous blonde witch nodded her agreement with her future brother-in-law. "Salem and Aunt Vesta never mentioned anything about a singing hat when they talked about this place.

"And, eww! That's totally groddy," Sabrina then added, an expression of disgust on her face as they watched the first of the new batch of students, one Elisha Anderson, march over and climb up onto the three-legged stool the Hat was sitting on, only to then hesitantly lower the thing onto her head.

"There is absolutely *no way* I'm putting that thing on *my* head, just to get sorted into one of these Houses," Bree declared firmly, her eyebrows narrowing into a concentrated frown of disapproval. "I don't care what anyone says the rules are – that's just not happening. I'm not taking any chances on catching something from that mangy old thing!"

"Y'know, Bree, I can tell that, come the day, you and Buffy are gonna get along *great*," Xander smirked as he playfully nudged the petite blonde with his shoulder.

"Anyway, look at all these kids – I’m sure that thing has to have some damned good spells on it, to ward against lice and fleas, at the very least. Not to mention, spells to help keep it from fraying away to nothing," Xander pointed out helpfully. "Remember, it's supposed to be almost as old as the school, itself. So they're both nearly hitting the millennium mark."

As they watched the rest of the first year students march up to the Hat, one by one, as Professor McGonagall called out their names, Xander offered a suggestion to possibly alleviate the blonde's concerns about possible hair pollution.

"Y'know, if you really are that concerned about putting that thing on your head, I'll cast a 'Scourgify' spell on it when I get called up," he offered with a grin. "That way, you won't get any nasty 'Hat' cooties on you when you touch it," he teased.

"Right. But, if you do that, then there'd still be doofus cooties on it after you touched it, wouldn't there, Xand?" Sabrina shot back with a smile.

"Oh, you stab me to the quick, cruel woman!" Xander declared, grabbing at his chest theatrically. "Now I'm convinced – you and Cordelia Chase must be related, somehow!"

“Your old girlfriend? The one whose life you tried to save, before you left Sunnydale?” Bree asked, suddenly looking serious.

“Yeah,” Xander shrugged. “Well, I sorta tried to warn her about the dangers of Sunnydale’s nightlife after that thing with her dad, anyway. Hopefully, this time around – all of the crap that happened to her before…won’t.”

Before either of the two could say anything more, they heard Professor McGonagall's voice calling out, "Potter, Alexander."

Xander headed over to Minerva, as directed, grabbed the sentient piece of haberdashery the school apparently used as a means of ensuring everlasting squabbles and bickering, settled down on the stool and donned the Sorting Hat.

***

:: Well now, what do we have here, another Potter? :: Xander heard a voice echo in his head an instant after he dropped the Hat onto his head. :: Yes, and no – oh my, my, my. You're something entirely different than anything anyone's seen around here in a good many years, aren't you? ::

:: I haven't the faintest idea if that's true or not, :: Xander answered with the equivalent of an indifferent mental shrug. Given the current supernatural status of his way-too-young-for-his-memories body – the lack of a Hyena possession, and the similar lack of the remnants of Halloween Soldier Guy – there was no inner mental conflict as the young man silently communicated with the Hat. :: Mainly because that would depend entirely on what you've seen since you were created, and quite frankly, I have more important things to do right now than worry about something like that. ::

:: Oh, is that so? :: the clandestine voice seemed to smirk at him. :: And just what might those more important things be? ::

:: Well, basically, that would be helping my family prevent the Wizarding World as it currently exists from being almost completely flushed down the toilet by Tom Riddle and all of his asshole lackeys, while also keeping the rest of the world from regressing back to a cultural approximation of medieval Europe after the Black Plague and, incidentally, preventing the deaths of, by the most conservative estimates, over five *billion* people, :: Xander replied with as much aplomb as he could muster

Having discussed with his family how they might handle this situation during their planning sessions at Potter Manor, the members of Ragnarok had decided it would be best for Xander to be completely candid and up-front with the Sorting Hat during his evaluation. Since they had no real idea of just how powerful the artifact's mental abilities actually were, the group was counting on the fact that an artifact intended by its creators to evaluate Wizarding children prior to distributing them throughout the school's four Houses would hopefully be inclined to help support any efforts to prevent any events which would lead to the virtual extinction of the wizarding people who were the Sorting Hat’s primary reason for existence.

:: Well now, that's quite a claim, :: the Hat replied with its own measure of equanimity. :: Let's have a closer look at you, my young friend, and I can see how much you've exaggerated your own worth, so I can decide whether you'd fit best in Gryffindor or in Slytherin. ::

:: Be my guest, Floppy, but I'm warning you – what you're gonna see is gonna be *way* nasty, even by the standards of this place, and it isn't what anyone could *ever* call a happy ending, :: Xander cautioned the Hat. :: Feel free to take a gander, but know that what you're gonna see is gonna be seriously disturbing, even if you aren't human. ::

Mentally bracing himself, Xander used the occlumency techniques he'd acquired during the series of rituals Ragnarok had performed the previous month to mute the emotional impact – and then he felt as the memories of the last ten years of his previous life that he'd spent fighting against the forces of darkness being quickly reviewed by the Hat in the space of a few minutes, seeming much like a movie being fast-forwarded.

:: Oh my, it seems you weren’t exaggerating after all. My apologies for doubting you, and my most sincere condolences on your losses, my young friend, :: Xander heard the Hat saying a moment after it had finished its review, its attitude much more subdued from its earlier tone. :: If anything, you've greatly downplayed the significance of what you and your fellows are attempting to accomplish. ::

:: And you need not fear, I will say nothing to anyone about you and your family attempting to put things right, :: the Hat added, as a feeling of gratitude and appreciation flooded through Xander’s mind.

:: Very well then, my young friend, let us not delay your tasks any further, :: the Hat gave him the equivalent of a mental nod. :: Good bye and Godspeed, as the mundane world says. If the Wizarding World is to survive, then the wolves will need access to the rats and other vermin spreading their diseases, which means you're going to end up in – ::

"SLYTHERIN!" the curious crowds of both students – who were rather amazed over how long this particular Sorting was taking – suddenly heard the Sorting Hat bellow.

And while a fair number of the students were surprised to witness a Potter being sorted into the House of Slytherin, what the vast majority of the students and faculty found most astonishing to see was that Ronald Bilius Potter, née Ronald Bilius Weasley, was *not* making a fuss about his brother being Sorted into Slytherin.

The consensus in Gryffindor was best summarized by Seamus Finnegan, who was heard muttering to his dorm mate, Dean Thomas, "All right, now I've seen everything. Weasley's all right with his brother being Sorted to Slytherin?

"I'll bet you ten galleons that Lucifer's busy setting up a snow cone franchise, right this very minute."

***

As he carefully removed the Hat from his head, Xander heard Professor McGonagall call out, "Spellman, Sabrina," and he gave his future sister-in-law a wide grin as he noted the uncertain and suspicious expression on Bree's face as he offered the Hat to her to put on.

"Floppy's pretty cool, for a talking hat," the former Californian assured the blonde in a voice barely above a whisper as she gingerly accepted the Founders-created artifact, "and after seeing my memories of what happened, he's definitely in our corner, just like we thought he'd be.

"And he's also very concerned about possibly getting lice or fleas – or maybe even something worse – from the students who put him on," Xander told the beautiful blonde witch in a much louder tone.

"But don't worry – I told him, you take a bath every day," he added with a wide grin. "Usually."

"Prat!" was Bree's only comment before she then used the Sorting Hat to smack Xander on the head for his comment, her actions causing yet another small stir of reaction and an accompanying buzz of comments among both the students and faculty seated at the various tables.

From out of the corner of her eye, Bree could see Harry and Ron both laughing aloud and clapping with appreciation at her and Xander's actions, while Hermione was shaking her head and covering her mouth to try and hide her own laughter, but she stalwartly ignored both them and her widely grinning future brother-in-law as he made his way to the Slytherin table while she demurely sat down on the three-legged stool McGonagall had provided and carefully positioned the Sorting Hat on her head.

:: Just for the record, I would most definitely prefer not to be an accomplice to any additional charges of grievous bodily injury which might occur in the future, my dear, :: Bree heard the Hat inform her in a teasing voice, once she'd seated herself comfortably on the stool and settled the Hat on her head.

:: Uh, sorry about that, :: Bree apologized, embarrassment clearly evident in her thoughts.

:: It's just that that boy can be so EXASPERATING at times, :: she complained.

:: Yes, I can understand your feelings completely, :: the Hat agreed sympathetically. :: That young man definitely needs to find himself a good woman and settle down one day. Although, the asinine humor *is* something he seems to hold on to as if his life depended on it, :: it commented.

:: Regardless of what young Mr. Potter's inclinations might be, however, we should be focusing our attention on determining which House would best suit your interests, as well as help further your group's plans, :: the Hat noted.

:: Hmmm. An impressive intellect, as well as a truly admirable sense of loyalty, coupled with enough courage that Godric himself would be impressed, :: the Hat commented thoughtfully.

:: Ah, what a pity it is your mother and father never produced more magical children together! My, my, your aunts Zelda and Hilda taught you well – and even the one called Salem Saberhagen contributed on occasion, :: the Hat noted reflectively as it reviewed Bree's memories. :: And I see that there were several instances in your previous life when you stayed with your teammates despite the fact that you were risking your life unnecessarily, and you ignored the fact that there were other equally qualified people available who could have replaced you on those missions, :: it noted.

:: I'm not inclined to walk away from any job I accept before it's been completed, :: Bree answered candidly. :: Especially not when my family's safety is at risk. ::

:: Yes, I can see that, my dear, :: the Hat agreed with a mental nod. :: Very well, then. With an attitude like that, if you're going to be successful in building the coalitions your family has envisioned, then it appears that there's really only one choice for you – ::

"HUFFLEPUFF!"

~~~

Slytherin common room
Slytherin dormitories beneath the school

A short while after dinner


"I can't believe that this noble House is going to be sullied with the presence of some worthless mudblood Potter decided to adopt into his House!"

Draco Malfoy's rant as he paced across the open space in the center of the common room was delivered in his usual loud and obnoxiously pompous manner and, as was the typical custom in the dormitory when he was in one of his moods, was also mostly ignored as far as the majority of the other students were concerned.

"Potty must have realized that no pureblood family of any real worth would ever even consider allying themselves with his and he's obviously trying to substitute quantity for quality!" Draco hypothesized loudly, not noticing how several of the older students' attention had shifted to the opposite end of the room.

"Ah, now that must be an example of both the vaunted and legendary Malfoy wit and charm I've heard so much about," the gathered students heard Xander declare as he entered through the common room vestibule, making Draco whirl around in surprise at the unanticipated response to his venomous diatribe.

"Although it sounds a lot more like someone passing gas, to me, actually," Xander continued as he looked Malfoy over with an expression on his face that would make one think he'd just discovered that he'd stepped into a pile of excrement, and the remainder of the students in the room looked over at the pair with a varying combination of shock, curiosity and anticipation at what looked to be the initial intra-House clash of two families widely known for their opposing philosophies.

"And it's undoubtedly of just as much consequence," the newly arrived transfer student then added disinterestedly, clearly dismissing the other's words as being of no importance.

"You shouldn't talk to your betters like that, mudblood," Draco snarled, his eyes narrowing in anger at the obvious insult as he unconsciously echoed his father's warning earlier that day.

"As I told your father, when he said pretty much the same thing to me this morning – which, if you can remember that far back, was right before he fainted from the excitement of meeting me, Draco," Xander smirked at the near-albino pureblood, "I'd do exactly that, if I thought there were any around.

"But since it's just you and your own little bunch of Death-Nibbler butt-buddy wannabes that you're talking about, I clearly don't have anything at all to be concerned about," Xander said, the smile on his face making it clear that his words could be interpreted as having more than a single level of meaning.

"And as far as me being a 'mudblood' goes? Since I've been recognized by the Wizengamot as having been formally blood-adopted into the Most Ancient and Noble House of Potter, you're obviously either ignorant of Wizarding law or just simply stupid, since that act, by definition, makes me a pureblood.

"And since the House of Malfoy is merely 'Noble,' that also makes *your* family subordinate to mine in all aspects of Wizarding society, doesn't it?" Xander continued with the same vicious smile on his face as he lectured the seething Malfoy scion on the finer points of Wizarding law in the presence of the majority of the Slytherin House students.

"Y'know, for someone who makes so much fuss about people 'knowing their proper place in Wizarding society,' you appear to be rather deficient in recognizing House Malfoy's proper position relative to that of House Potter," he observed with the condescending lift of an eyebrow he'd seen Cordelia Chase use to effortlessly shove an ambitious upstart back into their proper place.

"Perhaps you should give that concept some additional thought before you say anything further.

"See me later, if you're having any problems understanding the situation completely. I'm sure I'll be able to explain things in as much detail as you require," he stated, before turning away with a dismissive sniff.

{ And if *that* doesn't get the little bastard all wound up, then nothing will, } Xander thought to himself with satisfaction, his face set in an unconcerned expression as he headed towards the dorm room he'd been assigned.

{ Now I just have to wait for Draco to give me the excuse I need to stomp him into the ground. }

~~~

Sunnydale, CA
Outskirts of town

September 2, 1995
Early morning


Jesse McNally awoke to find the morning sun streaming into his eyes, the roar of the surf in his ears, and the feel of something rough and gritty, like sand, scratching his left cheek.

The unexpected feel of cold water washing over his legs shocked him into movement, and Jesse reflexively pushed himself up onto his hands and knees to scramble away from the incoming tide as he looked around in confused bewilderment at finding himself on one of the beaches that dotted the southern California coastline, with the sea-foamed waves washing over his ankles and lower legs.

"What the freakin' hell happened to me?" Jesse muttered to himself as he tried to figure out how he'd ended up on a beach he didn't recognize, not very long after dawn to judge by the the sun's position above the horizon.

Looking down to check himself out, he could see that, although his clothes were quite definitely torn and battered and he looked like he'd been put through the proverbial wringer, he didn't have any visible scratches, cuts or bruises that he could see.

In fact, now that he looked a bit closer, those scratches he'd gotten from Mrs. Hamilton's cat last week were completely gone, too. The area where they'd been looked completely normal, without any sort of indication that he'd ever been attacked by the feral, psychopathic, little beast.

Frowning, the bewildered youth considered that the last thing he could remember clearly was that he had started training for the Sunnydale High cross-country team tryouts next week by running several miles along the Pacific Coast Highway, and that he had ended up so tired and exhausted he'd felt like he was going to puke his intestines and various other organs onto the macadam the moment he stopped moving

McNally also thought he vaguely recalled hearing the roar of a car's engine, right before he'd apparently passed out from exhaustion (actually the car and its drunken college boy occupants had dragged him along for the ride after going over the side of a cliff), but that was all he could remember.

Which left Jesse wondering – just how the heck did he end up on a beach which was clearly not anywhere close to where he'd been, and what had he been doing, or what had happened to him, in the hours between his last memory and now?

Perhaps a better question to ask, had he been aware of it, was how the hell had he survived something that had killed four UC Sunnydale freshmen, and *should* have killed him too?

And, incidentally, just where exactly was he, and how the hell was he going to get home?

~~~

Rosenberg residence
Sunnydale, CA

September 2, 1995
Mid-morning


{ Oh, Merlin's beard! } Sirius thought to himself with shock as he sat on his bike a half-block down the street and looked down to again check the address Xander had written down for him as the one where he'd find the kid's oldest childhood friend.

{ If I didn't know for certain that Xander wouldn't ever do anything that might endanger his family's or friends' safety, I'd swear the boy was trying to set me up for the thrashing of a lifetime, } Sirius decided, as he took another look at the strong-featured, middle-aged woman standing outside the house.

A woman who so closely resembled his now long-dead Aunt Druella (save for the red-auburn hair taking the place of the golden-blonde tresses he remembered) that she could have been her twin, and who was currently in the process of unloading suitcases from the trunk of the small medium blue sedan which was parked in the driveway of the residence matching the address on his note.

{ If anyone had ever asked me, I would've bet pretty much anything that the Cannons would have had a far better chance of winning the League championship than I would have of ever running into dear, sweet cousin Sheila again, } Sirius reflected as he watched a somber-faced, dark-haired man – Sheila's husband, Ira – carry another set of suitcases into the Rosenberg domicile.

{ Morgana, but this really puts the kneasle among the pigeons as far as my getting close to Willow is concerned, } the fugitive wizard realized with a frown.

Unpleasant and almost-forgotten memories quickly arose in the reluctant Lord Black’s mind of a rather vicious verbal battle he'd witnessed while visiting his Uncle Cygnus' house, between his cousins Bellatrix and Sheila after the family's realization that Sheila hadn't received her Hogwarts letter. This had been after the family's realization that the prepubescent redhead hadn't received her Hogwarts letter, which had been quickly followed by Bellatrix's spiteful hexing of her sibling when she’d realized that Sheila possessed virtually no magical ability with which to oppose her.

Sirius also remembered the grim expression on Sheila's face as she had dodged the magical blast and then immediately (and quite ruthlessly, too, as was typical of a member of House Black) attacked the older girl, taking advantage of Bellatrix's surprise over the non-magical assault to knock her unconscious with a quickly grabbed candelabra.

"Maybe that will teach her that just knowing how to perform magic doesn't always ensure that you will win in battle. One must also be swift, resolute and unrelenting in their actions if one desires victory," Sirius recalled his uncle saying to his aunt, as the old man had callously laughed over the unexpected outcome – which had truly turned his teenage stomach.

“Father?” Sheila had asked, after witnessing her mother and sisters Narcissa and Andromeda turn their backs on her (even if there had been tears in Andromeda’s eyes, as she’d done so).

Cygnus had then turned to look at Sheila and said, "I am no longer your father, girl. None of us here are your family; for you are a squib, and the Ancient and Most Noble House of Black does not tolerate the existence of such specimens within its ranks. That is why, from this moment on, we do not know you; you do not exist in the Wizarding World. You have never existed in it. Any and all traces of you will be expunged from the family, and the name ‘Sheila Black’ will never be spoken by any of us again.”

Cygnus had then raised an eyebrow as he casually added, “Your unexpected victory over my daughter does, however, prompt me to offer you an opportunity I hadn't previously considered: a thousand galleons and twelve hours leave, before I allow Bellatrix to chase after you."

Sirius remembered that, as he had watched the unfolding events with well-concealed revulsion, his newly disowned 11-year-old cousin's emotionless response had been, "Will that be in cash or a bank draft?"

Quickly seizing the money Cygnus had offered, the prepubescent girl had then grabbed a cloak and wasted no time in leaving mansion within which she'd been born and raised, neither offering nor receiving any further communication with her former family as she'd departed.

That had been the last time Sirius had seen that particular cousin of his; but after having seen her, now he had no doubt whatsoever that the mother of Xander's oldest childhood friend was his now-not-so-long-lost relative, who'd been so cruelly disowned and rejected by the pureblood bigots whom she'd been unfortunate enough to have been born among.

{ How did Sheila survive, let alone make it all the way here to America? I swear, this 'Murphy' character Xander's always mentioning must be sitting back somewhere and laughing his ass off watching me, } Sirius decided as he started up his bike and quietly headed off back down the way he'd come.

{ How I'm ever going to get close enough to them to make sure Willow and this Jesse boy stay safe, and not get myself noticed by Sheila at the same time, is going to be a real bugger. }

~~~

Headmaster’s Office
Hogwarts Castle

The same time


The Ascended being named Orlin didn’t know why he was here. He suspected there was a reason for it, but in the name of the Collective, he didn’t know what it might be.

It had been a while now since Orlin’s meeting with Janus, who had told him about the five members of Ragnarok being both ‘the future and the past’. Not to mention that he should keep an eye on Xander from now on.

Thus, Orlin had done so – well, in between watching Kosh the Vorlon depart from Earth, Daniel Jackson getting laid by his girlfriend Sarah in an effort to save their relationship, and Cordelia Chase struggling to cope with the austerity measures her parents had imposed until Mr. Chase had finalized his deal with the IRS in order to keep all of his money.

{ What am I doing here? } Orlin asked himself yet again, as he drifted invisibly into Albus Dumbledore’s private office. He gazed around the room, and then headed for one of the bookshelves as the ascended Ancient felt himself drawn to one of the more esoteric and ancient-looking volumes.

The visitor felt his incorporeal eyes widen with astonishment as he recognized the ancient tome.

Merlin's journal.

Surprised and taken aback by his discovery, Orlin opened the book to the first page and the seemingly indecipherable text. The script itself was in orderly lines from top to bottom, produced with seemingly inhuman precision, and it consisted of many configurations of squares, lines and rectangles. It was clear, judging from the repeated characters, that this script consisted of a formal alphabet… but the phonetic associations and the meaning behind it were utterly lost in the mists of time – at least as far as Dumbledore and the rest of the Wizarding World were concerned.

{ When one is ready to begin the journey along the Great Path, the mind is enlightened and the body matters not, } Orlin read the opening sentence of the legendary mage's private journal, which had been written in Ancient. { Hmm, interesting. Now, what is the journal of that particular outcast doing *here*? }

:: I could tell you, Ancient One, but I rather doubt you would believe it. ::

Orlin whirled around, shocked like never before. :: Who said that? ::

:: Me, of course, :: the Sorting Hat drew the Ascended being’s attention to its place on another of the Headmaster's shelves. :: And please, Ancient One, do not look so shocked. It is hardly befitting someone with your level of enlightenment. ::

Orlin floated over to the Sorting Hat, still surprised that it could perceive his presence. :: Who are you? And how do you know what I am? ::

:: I am the Sorting Hat of Hogwarts, Ancient One, at your service, :: the frayed piece of haberdashery introduced itself politely. :: And I know of your kind from the memories of those whose minds I have touched. Unlike the wizards, who have forgotten their own history and lineage through both various circumstance and the efforts of Merlin himself, I have retained said knowledge throughout the millennia. That is how I know the wizards of old sought out Merlin when he was on Earth, either to learn from him or to challenge him to a duel. Apparently, it became so tiresome for that Ancient One that he took the four Founders of this school as apprentices and taught them in hiding, after which he Ascended, preferring to let Wizardom evolve on its own. ::

:: These wizards, as you call them – they are the descendants of the Ancients who came to Earth after fleeing Atlantis, are they not? Their half-breed children, who possess the Ancient gene? :: Orlin asked in amazement, his white tendril-like aura briefly flaring in the empty office.

:: Of course. But whether or not they can do magic, as they call it, as a consequence is quite another matter, :: the Sorting Hat replied in amusement. :: Now, how can I help you? ::

:: What can you tell me regarding this human? :: Orlin transmitted a visual image of Xander to the Sorting Hat’s consciousness.

:: Ah, Alexander Harris – excuse me, Alexander *Potter*, now, :: the Hat quickly corrected itself. :: He is the wizard with the connection to the entity calling himself ‘Janus’, even if he does not yet know it. As a new member of Slytherin House, I am certain he will do well there – especially once the vengeance plans of his group have been carried out. ::

:: Vengeance plans? What vengeance plans? ::

:: The equivalent of a minor spat from your point of view, Ancient One, :: the Hat said with a mental sigh. :: Important in its own way, but almost irrelevant when compared to the Ori or even the Goa’uld utterly destroying this planet. ::

:: I see. Well, thank you for your assistance, Sorting Hat, :: Orlin said with a mental sigh of his own.

:: It was my pleasure, Ancient One. I look forward to the next meeting with you or another of your kind, :: the Hat replied before lapsing into silence.

A brilliant white light exploded into existence as Orlin’s aura flared into the visible spectrum and his glowing, squid-like physical form appeared, before he rose towards the ceiling and disappeared through it – ascending to the higher dimensions to meet with some of the less hide-bound members of the Collective, and discuss what to do next.
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