United We Stand, Divided We Fall

Chapter 1: A Different World

September 1995

He sat alone in the compartment, feet up on the opposite seat, playing slow, mournful tunes on his harmonica. His hair formed a curtain around his face, affording protection from prying eyes. In this world, and most definitely this point in time, he was practically a nobody, his identity known only to himself and to those who had brought him here. But still he exercised caution.

Three raised voices drew ever nearer, accompanied by three sets of footsteps.

"Ron, that was my foot!"

"Sorry, Hermione. But if you and Harry wouldn't walk so far apart from each other-"

"Oh shut up, Ron…hey, who's that?"

The footsteps had stopped by this time. With a great deal of reluctance, he sighed, pocketed his harmonica and pulled his hair back into a low ponytail; this he secured with an elastic band he'd found in his pocket. Finally, after waiting a few moments, he answered the question.

"My name's Taylor."

The red-haired boy snorted at the answer given; this reaction earned him a well-placed elbow to the ribs. Having quietened him, the girl (Hermione?) spoke.

"Sorry about that," she said. "Are you new this year?"

"You could say that."

"You look a little old to be a first-year."

"Maybe because I'm not a first-year? I'm a transfer student from the United States."

Three raised eyebrows. "What school?" the red-haired boy questioned, a suspicious look on his face, and Taylor stiffened. He hadn't expected this…

"Ron, leave him be." It was the kid with glasses that stepped in. "We'll find out later." He stepped forward and offered a hand. "I'm Harry Potter, that's Ron Weasley" he gestured to the red-haired boy "and that's Hermione Granger." The girl waved.

Taylor shook the offered hand, managing a small, nervous smile. Then Ron spoke up a little apologetically.

"Well, 'Mione and I-"

"My name is Hermione, Ron!"

"Hermione and I got made prefects, so…"

"We'll be back a little later," Hermione supplied.

The moment that Ron and Hermione had disappeared down the corridor, Harry spoke up. "You aren't really a wizard, are you?"

"Well…no, I'm not. How'd you figure that out?"

Harry pushed his fringe aside to reveal a scar shaped like a bolt of lightning. "Most people notice this first…then of course you weren't surprised by my name. It made sense."

"Oh, I see." He looked around furtively, then spoke in a low voice. "I'm not exactly supposed to tell anyone this…but I'm a time traveller. From the year 1998. I got sent back in time to help stop Voldemort…whoever he is." He shrugged. "Sirius didn't tell me squat about who that guy is, though."

"Voldemort is the reason I have this," Harry explained, referring to his scar. A touch of bitterness entered his voice. "He's also the reason that I have no parents."

"I'm sorry," Taylor said automatically, mentally thanking whatever higher power there was that his family was still intact.

"Don't be," Harry replied. After a pause, he said, "You mentioned Sirius."

"Uh…yeah…"

"He's my godfather."

"Oh!"

Harry laughed.

Over the course of the train journey, Taylor received a thorough grounding in what to expect at Hogwarts. He learned about the four school houses - Harry and his friends were Gryffindors, and he was warned about Malfoy and his crew ('Slytherin gits, the lot of them' Ron had grumbled) in the process - the teachers, Quidditch, anything and everything they were able to tell him, he took in and memorised.

"What house do you think they'll stick me in?" Taylor asked as the train slowed; Hogsmeade station was in sight.

"Well, as this has never happened before - a new student entering the school in fifth year - I really don't know," Hermione replied. "But…maybe Gryffindor or Ravenclaw. Like I said, I'm not exactly sure. I guess we'll find out soon enough."

The train came to a complete halt and emptied relatively quickly. Taylor kept close to his new friends as they exited the station and hopped into the carriages that would take them to the school; he kept his fingers crossed inside his robes, hoping that he wouldn't be separated from them. From what he'd been told, Professor Snape and Slytherin House combined would make for a disastrous year indeed. Anything would be better than Slytherin, but Gryffindor sounded by far the best house.

As the flood of students entered into the Entrance Hall of the school castle, a commanding voice cut through the chatter.

"Potter! Granger! Weasley! Hanson!"

"That's McGonagall," Ron explained. "Wonder what she wants this time?"

Wordlessly, Taylor followed Harry, Ron and Hermione through the crowd of laughing students to where the stern-faced professor stood. "Yes, Professor?" Hermione asked.

"The headmaster wishes to see the four of you right away," Professor McGonagall replied.

"But the Sorting-" Ron started.

"-has been delayed this year, Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall finished. "This way, please."

The four students followed McGonagall up several flights of stairs, stopping before an imposing stone gargoyle. The professor spoke the password, and the gargoyle moved aside, revealing an upwards-moving spiral stone staircase; they stepped on and found themselves moving upwards to what Taylor assumed to be the headmaster's office.

The headmaster looked up as McGonagall and the four students entered the office. "Ah, Minerva," he said. He nodded to Harry, Hermione and Ron in turn, his gaze coming to rest finally on Taylor. "And you are Taylor, correct?"

Taylor nodded. "Yes sir," he confirmed.

Dumbledore nodded. "I feel that a explanation of why Taylor is here may be in order, so I will ask you all to be patient while I explain.

"It has been foreseen that in the year 1998, Voldemort will launch an attack on the magical world. It has also been foreseen that a Muggle will play an integral role in the final battle."

"Me," Taylor said quietly.

Dumbledore nodded "Precisely." His expression turned serious. "Taylor, this is a very different world from the one that you are used to. Magic is very real, and it is everywhere you turn. In addition, while time travel is possible, it is closely guarded. You must never allow anyone, save for your teachers and your three friends here, to know what time you are truly from. Do you understand me?"

Taylor nodded. "I do."

The serious expression disappeared, and Dumbledore smiled. "Now, I understand that we have a Sorting to attend, but first…have you given any thought as to what house you would like to be in?"

"Gryffindor," Taylor replied automatically.

"Wonderful! Now, if you would just follow Professor McGonagall, I shall see you in the Great Hall."

Back downstairs they went, rejoining the loosely-packed cluster of students who by now were beginning to complain about the delay. Sighs of relief could be clearly heard as the doors finally swung wide, allowing the students to enter the Great Hall and take their places at the house tables. Taylor looked up at the ceiling and his mouth dropped open in amazement. "Wow…" he whispered. Stars dotted the velvety black surface, and candles hovered in mid-air.

"Close your mouth mate, you'll catch flies in there," Ron joked as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

The imposing oak doors at the end of the Great Hall opened, and a line of new students (headed by Professor McGonagall) entered; the eyes of every student in the hall watched as the line proceeded up the centre aisle and came to a stop in front of the staff table, before a three-legged stool which had sitting upon it a pointed wizard's hat; the hat itself was very old, extremely faded and patched in so many places it was near impossible to discern its original colour.

And Taylor jumped in surprise as a small tear near the brim of the hat widened so as to look not unlike a mouth, and the hat itself broke into song.

In times of old when I was new
And Hogwarts barely started
The founders of our noble school
Thought never to be parted:
United by a common goal,
They had the selfsame yearning,
To make the world's best magic school
And pass along their learning.
'Together we will build and teach!'
The four good friends decided
And never did they dream that they
Might some day be divided,
For were there such friends anywhere
As Slytherin and Gryffindor?
Unless it was the second pair
Of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw?
So how could it have gone so wrong?
How could such friendships fail?
Why, I was there and so can tell
The whole sad, sorry tale.
Said Slytherin, 'We'll teach just those
Whose ancestry is purest.'
Said Ravenclaw, 'We'll teach those whose
Intelligence is surest.'
Said Gryffindor, 'We'll teach all those
With brave deeds to their name.'
Said Hufflepuff, 'I'll teach the lot,
And treat them just the same.'
These differences caused little strife
When first they came to light,
For each of the four founders had
A house in which they might
Take only those they wanted, so
For instance, Slytherin
Took only pure-blood wizards
Of great cunning, just like him,
And only those of sharpest mind
Were taught by Ravenclaw
While the bravest and the boldest
Went to daring Gryffindor.
Good Hufflepuff, she took the rest
And taught them all she knew,
Thus the houses and their founders
Retained friendships firm and true.
So Hogwarts worked in harmony
For several happy years,
But then discord crept among us
Feeding on our faults and fears.
The houses that, like pillars four,
Had once held up our school,
Now turned upon each other and,
Divided, sought to rule.
And for a while it seemed the school
Must meet an early end,
What with duelling and with fighting
And the clash of friend on friend
And at last there came a morning
When old Slytherin departed
And though the fighting then died out
He left us quite downhearted.
And never since the founders four
Were whittled down to three
Have the houses been united
As they once were meant to be.
And now the Sorting Hat is here
And you all know the score:
I sort you into houses
Because that is what I'm for,
But this year I'll go further,
Listen closely to my song:
Though condemned am I to split you
Still I worry that it's wrong,
Though I must fulfil my duty
And quarter every year
Still I wonder whether Sorting
May not bring the end I fear.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly 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.

"It tried to put me in Slytherin," Harry whispered to Taylor as half-hearted applause echoed around the Great Hall; Taylor smiled appreciatively and returned his attention to the now-motionless Sorting Hat.

When the Sorting had been completed, and the Hat and stool taken from the Hall, the start-of-term feast commenced in earnest. And a couple of the other Gryffindors took the opportunity to play Twenty Questions, each taking it in turn to ask Taylor a question.

"What's your name?"

"Where're you from, anyway?"

"Guys, guys, please!" Taylor cut in. "I feel like a goldfish! To answer your questions, my name's Taylor and I'm from America."

"What school?" Ron asked, repeating his earlier question.

He was prepared this time; the story that Sirius had drilled into his just before he was sent three years into the past had come back to him only moments before the feast commenced. Confidently, he replied, "Salem Academy of Magic. I was a freshman student. The school system works a little differently in America."

This answer seemed to satisfy Ron; he nodded.

When dessert was over, the headmaster stood and made a few routine announcements.

"The first-year students should note that the Forbidden Forest is out-of-bounds to all students, and some of the older students would do well to remember that also." Taylor noticed that they headmaster's gaze had drifted over to the Gryffindor table, coming to rest, in particular, on Ron's older twin brothers, and on Harry, Ron and Hermione. He guessed that the three had gone in there a good deal over their time at the school.

"The school caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked that all students be reminded that magic is not to be used in the corridors between classes. Also, tryouts for the school Quidditch teams will be held in the second week of term; anyone interested in playing for their school teams, as we do have quite a few vacancies, should notify Madam Hooch."

After a few more announcements were made, the Great Hall emptied; the prefects (including Ron and Hermione) led the first-years away to their respective areas of the castle. Meanwhile, Taylor and Harry wandered along corridors and up staircases to Gryffindor Tower.

"I might try out for the Gryffindor team," Taylor said as talk turned to Quidditch. "Didn't you say you played?"

"Yeah; I'm the Seeker," Harry replied. "Have been since first year. Oliver was the Keeper until two years ago; we didn't have a Quidditch season last year because of the Triwizard Tournament."

"Well, I played soccer for a long time; I was goalkeeper for a few seasons. I might try out." Taylor grinned. "Should be fun."

"Hey, Hermione!" Harry called, seeing Hermione nearing the portrait of the Fat Lady. "What's the password?"

"It's 'Carpe diem'," Hermione replied as the portrait swung forward.

The common room was deserted, lit by candles and the flickering flames of the log fire in the fireplace. Taylor was the first to speak after the portrait had swung closed behind them.

"I think I owe you three some explanations as to why I'm here," he said. "Dumbledore didn't tell the whole story."

He lowered himself into one of the old armchairs by the fire and looked at his shoes, gathering his thoughts. Then, a little haltingly, he told his tale.