As the first moment of shock was wearing off and people began to react to the news, the Sorting Hat spoke again:
"Just kidding! RAVENCLAW!"
Chapter 11: Omake Files 1, 2, 3
"Omake" is a non-canonical extra.
(A.k.a. "What Happens If You Change Harry But Leave All Other Characters Constant")
Dumbledore peered over his desk at young Harry, twinkling in a kindly sort of way. The boy had come to him with a terribly intense look on his childish face - Dumbledore hoped that whatever this matter was, it wasn't too serious. Harry was far too young for his life trials to be starting already. "What was it you wished to speak to me about, Harry?"
Harry James Potter-Evans-Verres leaned forward in his chair, smiling grimly. "Headmaster, I got a sharp pain in my scar during the Sorting Feast. Considering how and where I got this scar, it didn't seem like the sort of thing I should just ignore. I thought at first it was because of Professor Snape, but I followed the Baconian experimental method which is to find the conditions for both the presence and the absence of the phenomenon, and I've determined that my scar hurts if and only if I'm facing the back of Professor Quirrell's head, whatever's under his turban. While it could be something more innocuous, I think we should provisionally assume the worst, that it's You-Know-Who - wait, don't look so horrified, this is actually a priceless opportunity -"
This was the original version of Chapter 9. It was replaced because - while many readers did enjoy it - many other readers had massive allergies to songs in fanfics, for reasons that should not much need belaboring. I didn't want to drive readers away before they got to Ch. 10.
Lee Jordan is the fellow prankster of Fred and George (in canon). "Lee Jordan" had sounded like a Muggleborn name to me, implying that he would be capable of instructing Fred and George on a tune that Harry would know. This was not as obvious to some readers as it was to your author.
Draco went to Slytherin, and Harry breathed a small sigh of relief. It had seemed like a sure thing, but you never did know what tiny event might upset the course of your master plan.
They were approaching the Ps now...
And over at the Gryffindor table, there was a whispered conversation.
"What if he doesn't like it?"
"He's got no right to not like it -
"- not after the prank he played on -"
"- Neville Longbottom, his name was -"
"- he's as fair a fair target now as fair can be."
"All right. Just make sure you don't forget your parts."
"We've rehearsed it often enough -"
"- over the last three hours."
And Minerva McGonagall, from where she stood at the speaker's podium of the Head Table, looked down at the next name on her list. Please don't let him be a Gryffindor please don't let him be a Gryffindor OH PLEASE don't let him be a Gryffindor... She took a deep breath, and called:
"Potter, Harry!"
There was a sudden silence in the hall as all whispered conversation stopped.
A silence broken by a horrible buzzing noise that modulated and changed in hideous mockery of musical melody.
Minerva's head jerked around, shocked, and identified the buzzing noise as coming from the Gryffindor direction, where They were standing on top of the table blowing into some kind of tiny devices held against Their lips. Her hand started to drop to her wand, to Silencio the lot of Them, but another sound stopped her.
Dumbledore was chuckling.
Minerva's eyes went back to Harry Potter, who had only just started to step out of line before he'd stumbled and halted.
Then the young boy began to walk again, moving his legs in odd sweeping motions, and waving his arms back and forth and snapping his fingers, in synchrony with Their music.
To the tune of "Ghostbusters"
(As performed on the kazoo by Fred and George Weasley, and sung by Lee Jordan.)
There's a Dark Lord near?
Got no need to fear
Who you gonna call?
"HARRY POTTER!" shouted Lee Jordan, and the Weasley twins performed a triumphant chorus.
With a Killing Curse?
Well it could be worse.
Who you gonna call?
"HARRY POTTER!" There were a lot more voices shouting it this time.
The Weasley Horrors went off into an extended wailing, now accompanied by some of the older Muggleborns, who had produced their own tiny devices, Transfigured out of the school silverware no doubt. As their music reached its anticlimax, Harry Potter shouted:
I ain't afraid of Dark Lords!
There was cheering then, especially from the Gryffindor table, and more students produced their own antimusical instruments. The hideous buzzings redoubled in volume and built to another awful crescendo:
I ain't afraid of Dark Lords!
Minerva glanced to both sides of the Head Table, afraid to look but with all too good a notion of what she would see.
Trelawney frantically fanning herself, Flitwick looking on with curiosity, Hagrid clapping along to the music, Sprout looking severe, and Quirrell gazing at the boy with sardonic amusement. Directly to her left, Dumbledore humming along; and directly to her right, Snape gripping his empty wine goblet, white-knuckled, so hard that the thick silver was slowly deforming.
Dark robes and a mask?
Impossible task?
Who you gonna call?
HARRY POTTER!
Giant Fire-Ape?
Old bat in a cape?
Who you gonna call?
HARRY POTTER!
Minerva's lips set in a white line. She would have words with Them about that last verse, if They thought she was powerless because it was the first day of school and Gryffindor had no points to take away. If They didn't care about detentions then she would find something else.
Then, with a sudden gasp of horror, she looked in Snape's direction, surely he realised the Potter boy must have no idea who that was talking about -
Snape's face had gone beyond rage into a kind of pleasant indifference. A faint smile played about his lips. He was looking in the direction of Harry Potter, not the Gryffindor table, and his hands held the crumpled remains of a former wine goblet...
And Harry walked forwards, sweeping his arms and legs through the motions of the Ghostbusters dance, keeping a smile on his face. It was a great setup, had caught him completely by surprise. The least he could do was play along and not ruin it all.
Everyone was cheering him. It made him feel all warm inside and sort of awful at the same time.
They were cheering him for a job he'd done when he was one year old. A job he hadn't really finished. Somewhere, somehow, the Dark Lord was still alive. Would they have been cheering quite so hard, if they knew that?
But the Dark Lord's power had been broken once.
And Harry would protect them again. If there was in fact a prophecy and that was what it said. Well, actually regardless of what any darn prophecy said.