Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I own any sort of illegal drugs though I understand why you would be suspicious. Before we go on, I would just like to say two things. One, I am writing this because a good friend of mine is writing a Harry Potter story as well and I thought it would be fun to try it as well. Two, I am so, so sorry.

There was no denying that Professor McGonagall had her doubts about this. Dumbledore was a wise man, but sometimes his ideas seemed a bit too eccentric even for him. Truthfully, it was only due to him pushing the boundaries of logic that they had managed to survive the reign of You-Know-Who. But now that he was gone, was it truly a good idea to keep taking such risks? Especially in this case, where the one who would take the risk was the child that had gotten them rid of the era of darkness.

Her uncertainty must have showed in her face, because Dumbledore winked at her.

"Do you think I'm making a mistake, Professor McGonagall?" he asked, staring off into the distance.

"No—well, yes," she admitted, rather uncomfortably. "But I have, I'm ashamed to admit, thought as much many times before. Every one of those times, you proved me wrong, Albus. I'm sure the same will happen here. But it all seems so ridiculous to me. I just can't help but be worried for poor Harry. Will he really be fine with such an unorthodox parenting figure?"

"It is one of my brighter ideas, and if I do say so myself, that counts for quite a bit," answered Dumbledore quizzically. Upon seeing McGonagall was still concerned, he went on. "This man is a blood relative of Lily Potter. Harry will receive the same magical protection as he would if he were to live with his other relatives. The only difference is that he will be better treated. In fact, I would add that Harry will be much more safe with him than if he were guarded by dragons day and night!"

"Will he, Albus?" McGonagall asked. "I've observed this Muggle for a while now, and though he isn't as bad as Harry's other relatives, I think that—"

"My dear Professor McGonagall," said Dumbledore affectionally. "With all due respect, it doesn't matter what you think. There is only one man who can raise the wizard who saved our world from such a terrifying dark lord. There is only one man who can make even the toughest of the death eaters never even attempt to harm this young boy. There is only one man who can be Harry Potter's foster parent. This man—"

At that moment, the door swung open and this man stood before the two. He looked at Profsesor McGonagall. Then he looked at Dumbledore. Then he looked at Harry. Then he raised his eyebrow.

Ten years had passed since that night, something that McGonagall was painfully aware of. Meeting with that man had left quite an impression on her. During those ten long years, all she could do was wonder what Harry would become like when raised by such an eccentric person. But there was no reason to wonder anymore. All she had to do was wait a few seconds.

At that very moment, she was calling out names from a long list of young boys and girls who had enrolled in the Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As she neared Harry's name, her heart beat faster. Had that man treated him too badly? Had he become a shy, sensitive person, unlike his father due to the abuse?

"Potter, Harry!" she called out, immediately prompting multiple whispers from the crowd of students.

It was as if the school's orchestra was posssed by demons, making godless love to the personification of magnificence. McGonagall didn't know who had authorized this song change and she was too shocked to ask. The entire school watched as young Harry walked towards the stool containing the sorting hat, the glorious music still soaring through the castle as if it were an eagle. It was then that the unexpected happen.

Harry rudely knocked the Sorting Hat to the ground. Then, before anyone knew it, he was standing on top of the stool. Then he fiercely raised his fist high up in the air, as if punching an invisible enemy. This caused the crowd to erupt into cheers, though the Slytherin table was suspiciously quiet during the entire event.

"Harry Potter! Harry Potter!" the crowd of students cried out.

And during all of this, Harry Potter did not move an inch, nor did he show any emotion at all on his face. Eventually, the crowd started to quiet out. It was then that he acted. He drew out his wand from his pocket, quickly summoning a spell.

"Sonorus," he said.

McGonagall wondered how he knew a spell before even coming to Hogwarts, but that would soon become the last thing to think about. There would soon be more pressing questions.

"Finally..."said Harry, his voice magically amplified. "Finally...finallly...after ten long years...The Harry, has come back, to the wizarding world!"

The crowd erupted into cheers once more. Even some of the Slytherins were chanting his name now, much to the displeasure of the ones who weren't.

"Ten years ago, there lived a dark wizard who nobody could defeat." The whole school fell silent at once. "Ten years ago, there lived a dark wizard who killed countless people. Who committed atrocious crimes. Who made many people suffer. But you see, that wizard made one fatal mistake." Both the faculty and the students were now hanging on to every word Harry said. "He thought that because The Harry was barely a year old, The Harry could be defeated without a problem. He thought that because The Harry still liked stuffed toys and wanted to be with his mommy he could come kill him. He thought that just because The Harry didn't even know how to talk yet, he couldn't be too much of a problem. He dared to go one on one with the great one. And what happened? Let me tell you what happened. The Harry, one year old, took a moment off his busy schedule of pooping, looked Voldemort straight in the eye, and said he would beat him all the way to Mars, all the way to Jupiter, all the way to Uranus! Then, true to his word, The Harry, one year old, took Voldemort's wand, flipped it sideways, and shoved it right up his candy ass!"

Fred and George Weasley were the first ones to scream, but by no means the only ones. The sheer amount of respect every person in the room felt for Harry at that moment. Their voices echoed through the castle so loudly, McGonagall thought that they would maybe be heard by those in Hogsmeade. Every person, male, female, Muggle-Born or pureblood, was chanting Harry's name at that moment, except by a select few who Harry's glare said he took note of.

"Mr. Potter," said McGonagall, also magically enhancing her voice, "that language is not appropriate for an eleven year old!"

"That language is not appropriate for an eleven year old," Harry repeated, mockingly. "Know your damn role, and shut your damn mouth! The Harry says what The Harry damn well pleases!"

The students cheered even louder, prompting McGonagall to step back and sit down. Her chest hurt. The sheet amount of disrespect Harry was displaying made her feel as though she was going to have a heart attack. Perhaps she was.

Harry grabbed the Sorting Hat from the ground, put it on top of his head, then, with his wand pointed to his mouth, asked the hat loudly enough so that the entire school could hear it.

"What house do you think The Harry belongs to?"

"Slyth—"began the Sorting Hat, but then Harry grabbed it, tossed it on the ground and stepped on it.

"IT DOESN'T MATTER WHAT YOU THINK!" Harry cried out. It seemed, at that moment, as if there was absolutely nothing in the world the students would rather do than to watch Harry.

Harry glanced at the crowd. Then, he turned around to look over at the faculty. He looked at Snape, who had turned his head sideways as if hoping that maybe looking at Harry from a different angle would let him understand the situation better. Then he glared at Quirrel, who seemed absolutely terrified. Then he glared at Dumbledore, who seemed positively delighted with the situation.

Suddenly, Harry turned back to the crowd.

"IF YOU SMELL..."he cried out. "WHAT THE HARRY. IS. COOKING."

The orchestra started to play that strange, yet magnificent song once more as Harry walked towards the Gryffindor table despite never having been actually sorted.