Capacious Extremis
Saturday, August 31st, 1996.
“‘Gregorovitch?’” Hermione repeated, and Harry nodded, looking hopeful when she tilted her head to look out the window behind him, thinking, for a moment, that she might be working out a problem and reaching the answer, and that she knew who this ‘Gregorovitch’ he’d been whispering in his sleep for a week now was - yes, it had been a week, and Draco was getting tired of hearing his friend scream at night, so don’t remind him. Unfortunately, she merely frowned and shrugged her shoulders. “Never heard of him.”
“What?” Ron blurted, astonished as Harry’s shoulders slumped. “You’ve never even -”
“I don’t know everything, Ron!” She snapped, then sighed, rubbing her temple and taking his hand with her other hand. “Sorry, I’m just as frustrated as you are. I thought we were done with your dreams, Harry. I thought you were working on blocking -”
“Don’t turn this conversation around,” Harry said, waving a finger at her. “I’ve had no dreams or visions since we fled to the Department, this was the first.” Draco snorted with a, “And it’s happened six times now,” and Harry glared at him. “Five,” he corrected, before turning back to Hermione. “I bet it’s ‘cause he’s getting angry. Whoever this ‘Gregorovitch’ is is clearly important to him. From what I can understand he’s looking for a wand. Probably trying to figure out how he can stop those golden flames from happening again.”
They all shivered at the memory of Malfoy Manor up in flames. It had taken weeks for Harry to look at fire the same way again, and he hadn’t a clue how his friends were doing, but had a feeling Draco still couldn’t. It had been his home after all.
“A wand?” Hermione asked, when the silence had stretched on uncomfortably long, and Harry nodded quietly. “I wonder…” She looked thoughtful, and again Harry got hopeful, thinking the great Hermione Granger might come up with another idea, but then she shook her head and stood. “It’s probably nothing,” she said, seemingly to herself, and gathered up the laundry sprawled across the floor they were supposed to be sorting. She picked up her own neatly stacked piles and nodded at theirs, “You should probably get those down before Phl - Fleur blows Mrs. Weasley’s top off.”
The boys all nodded and continued to sort out their darks and lights into piles, not at all eager to walk into an explosion that was bound to happen as Fleur had been treating Mrs. Weasley to wedding planning discussions for well over an hour now.
“Excited to head back to Hogwarts?” Harry asked Draco as he folded up a set of Quidditch robes. They were leaving the next morning, with a Ministry escort of cars and Auror’s, which unfortunately didn’t include Tonks. They’d all been instructed to get their trunks ready early, no one in any hurry to create more ruckus than was needed but as per usual when there was now a french princess and three babies in the house.
Draco frowned, raising a pale eyebrow up at him. “‘Excited’ is one word for it.” He said and Harry couldn’t blame him. After the disaster of last year and with the threat of a now very real war everywhere he looked it felt weird to simply be going to school, but he hoped at the very least Hogwarts would make a good distraction to it all, though the ever absent presence of Dumbledore would certainly be a change.
Hermione had refused to start reading The Life and Lies of Albus Dumbledore, believing that it would be a load of rubbish and the Tales of Beedle the Bard would not, and therefore naming Dumbledore’s gift to her the priority, which of course made sense. What didn’t make sense, however, was when Harry learned that Dumbledore’s gift was a book of fairy tales, which made the questionable book even more tempting, because while it was written by Rita Skeeter, even a broken clock is right at least two times a day, right?
-*-*-*-
Sunday, September 1st
The next morning, true to Mrs. Weasley wishes, the kids all stood before their waiting Ministry cars with their trunks packed, ready to depart. Crookshanks sat in his traveling basket under Hermione’s arm, her trunk held in her other hand, Pigwidgeon perched on Ron’s head, so small and now trained to not leave his side there was no point to keeping him in a cage. Ginny’s new purple Pygmy Puff, Arnold, however, was in a tiny cage (she’d already given the lilac one to Luna when she’d stopped by for her birthday). Hedwig was of course back in her cage, looking grumpy about it as ever, and Prongs tucked into Harry’s backpack, nestled into the Invisibility Cloak. Draco’s eagle owl Giausar sat in his cage and Altais in her own traveling basket, Draco wincing under the weight, as his pet Kneazle had certainly been gaining a lot of it fast.
“Altais, what in Merlin’s name have you been eating lately? Crup food?” He frowned down at his cat, who looked up at him with wide eyes and simply meowed. Ron smirked over at them, nodding to the Burrow and leaning in to whisper, “I bet it’s Fleur’s cooking.”
Ginny barked a laugh and Harry snorted but Draco glared at them all, saying, “That is not funny.” He then frowned back down at his cat, craning his neck to eye her admittedly rather fat body and muttering, “You look better than me these days…”
“Say goodbye to Auntie Ginny and Uncle Ronnie!” The kids turned to see Tess standing on the porch, using her fingers to gently make Molly II’s little hand wave. She babbled out something incoherent and blew a spit bubble, and while Ron rolled his eyes and muttered, “I told her to stop teaching her kids that name. No way in hell am I going to be called ‘Uncle Ronnie.’” Ginny beamed and waved back, calling, “I think she’s trying to say our names!”
“Harry!” Fleur pushed past Tess suddenly, making little Molly start to bawl, but she seemed to pay the baby and her angry friend no mind as she ran up to Harry and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “Au revoir, Harry,” she said, beaming, and kissing Ron on the forehead, “You too, Ronald.” She said, finally turning to Draco and kissing him on the cheek as well, “Au revoir, Draco,” then she backed up, waving, as the kids turned for the cars. Percy came out with his arms full of Lucy and Hans, trying to reach his glasses as he squirmed out of the way, and called out, “Bye, Harry, Ron, Ginny, Hermione, Draco!”
There were no problems on the ride to the King’s Cross Station, and in fact it felt quite boring, and sad for Draco, as it brought back memories of his ride with his mother, what he knew logically to be just a year ago, but felt like centuries. He unconsciously hugged Altais closer to his chest as he thought this, frowning out the window even as Harry took notice and lightly placed a hand on his shoulder.
This wasn’t helped by the grim-faced, bearded Aurors that escorted them into the station and to Platform 9 ¾, who reminded him too much of the rude men who’d driven the Malfoys a year prior. Still, Draco remained quiet, hanging his head low, falling back into old habits around Aurors of making no sudden moves, and giving them no reason to get angry.
“Quick, quick, through the barrier,” Mrs. Weasley said, glancing anxiously up at the stern men and seemingly so distracted that when she ‘gestured’ to the brick wall, she more so looked like she was flapping her arms, as if trying to fly. “Harry had better go first, with…?” She looked up at one of the men who nodded as sternly as his face would suggest, and grabbed Harry rather roughly by the arm.
Immediately, Harry glared up at him and Draco broke out of his facade and snapped, “He knows how to walk, sir,” Sneering as the man ignored him and steered Harry through the barrier.
“Alright, you next blondie,” Draco glared up at the Auror stepped towards him, now not bothering with any sort of politeness, and grabbing his trolley and pushing it straight through at a running pace, so he nearly ran into the Auror on the other side and didn’t care in the slightest.
Hermione and the Weasleys joined them shortly, and the group made their way forwards towards the train, dodging screaming and shouting children, screeching owls, and sobbing parents. Above it all they could see the scarlet Hogwarts Express, ever pumping an endless stream of steam that hung over their heads like a magical sky.
Harry motioned for his friends to follow him up the platform, but stopped when he saw the three of them glancing among each other.
“We can’t, Harry,” Hermione whispered, hanging her head and Draco spread his hand out, as he tended to do when he explained something, saying, “We have to go to the prefects’ carriage, remember? Then patrol the corridors. Prefect duties and all that.”
Harry frowned, nodded and looked at his shoes. “Oh yeah, I forgot,” he perked up suddenly, “Then I’ll just ride with the HOOD folks, right Ginny?” He looked to her only to find she had scampered off.
“Ginny! Oh that girls gonna get it -” Mrs. Weasley shook her head, brushed off her Muggle skirt and stepped up to them. “Well at least you stayed to say goodbye to your mother,” She walked up to Ron, kissing him hurriedly on each cheek and brushing back a strand of his hair, saying, “Well, have a lovely term, Ron. Now hurry before you miss -”
“Mr. Weasley, can I have a quick word?” All of his friends, and the Weasley parents, looked at him curiously as he turned to the man, consulting his watch worriedly, but he nodded and said, “Of course,” and moved through the crowd out of earshot nonetheless.
This was a Voldemort problem, right? Voldemort was looking for Gregorovitch, and if he might hurt the man, the Ministry should know, and Percy was all the way back at the Burrow, and those Aurors were quite rude and total strangers, so Mr. Weasley was the perfect person right now, being an employee of the Ministry.
“So, remember when I knew you were about to get mauled by a snake?” Mr. Weasley instantly grimaced, raising his eyebrows. “Yes. Dumbledore said something about you being able to -”
“See into Voldemort’s mind, yes,” Mr. Weasley didn’t wince as much as he usually did this time. “And I thought it stopped,” Harry sighed quite heavily, “Turns out it didn’t.”
Mr. Weasley frowned deeply, looking quite concerned now as he leaned in closer and layed a comforting hand on Harry’s shoulder, “What did you see, Harry?”
“He’s torturing someone, an old man, about wands. He wants one, probably to fight me, because… Well there’s been some issues but that’s another story… The point is he’s looking for someone he thinks will help him get it. Someone called Gregorovitch.”
Mr. Weasley raised his eyebrows high on his head but Harry continued. “And I know I’ve heard the name before, I just can’t think of where. Well, anyway, I thought that this would be important information, considering this is someone Voldemort could probably kill. You might be able to stage an ambush before he can get there.”
“Gregorovitch…” Mr. Weasley rubbed his chin, nodding solemnly, “Yes, I know him. He’s a wandmaker.” Harry snapped his fingers, realization sparking in his mind. “That’s where I’ve heard his name! He made wands for some of the Champions in the Triwizard. Ollivander -”
Harry stopped. Not only had the whistle blown behind them, but he’d just connected the dots of who the old man Voldemort was torturing could have been; it was Ollivander, of course, who else would be easily accessible, is missing, and knows about wand lore?
“You’d better hurry,” Mr. Weasley told him as Mrs. Weasley cried from some feet behind them, “Harry, quickly!” Harry turned and started to sprint for the doors, and as Mr. Weasley slung his trunk onto the train and threw Hedwig’s cage up to a worker in a navy blue uniform and cap, he said quickly in hushed tones, “I’ll talk to the Ministry about Gregorovitch, don’t you worry.” Then Mrs. Weasley arrived, hurrying him up the stairs of the open door.
“Now, dear, we’ll be at Grimmauld Place again for Christmas, it’s all fixed with McGonagall. You’ll be able to see Sir - Snuffles again and everybody else too, we’ll find a way to fit, so we’ll see you quite soon,” said Mrs. Weasley, and Harry nodded along to each word then slammed the door shut, the train slowly beginning to move. He continued to nod as she jogged to follow it, still talking to him through the glass, “You make sure you look after yourself and -”
Chug, chug, chug, the train got faster, and Harry got closer to the glass to hear what she was shouting above the engine.
“Be good and - stay safe!”
Harry waved, beaming as the ginger specks of Mr. and Mrs. Weasley got smaller and smaller before the train finally turned a corner and they were all lost from view. Harry turned, slinging his backpack off to check that Prongs was still there safe. The crup barked at him and he grinned and ruffled the fur on his head before strapping the bag back on and headed down the corridor, scanning for familiar faces.
He chose Ginny, chatting with a group of girls, and tried to ignore the way people stared at the dazzling ‘Chosen One’ making his way past them, instead hanging his head so his bangs covered his scar and tapping Ginny on the shoulder.
“Fancy trying to find a compartment?” He asked her and she smiled up at him nodded as she scratched Arnold under the chin, who was perched on her shoulder. “Sure thing, Harry, we can go find Luna!” Harry rolled his eyes at the way she saw the girl’s name but followed his friend further down the corridor, now angered by how the mesmerized looks had turned jealous at him choosing to speak to the very popular and admittedly very beautiful Ginny Weasley over them.
If only they knew…
“Hi, Harry! Hi, Ginny!” They turned to look behind them, and both grinned at the sight of Neville Longbottom, round-faced and blonde haired, pushing through the crowd. And beside him -
“Luna!” Every freckle on Ginny’s face now appeared to be seeds on a strawberry by the way she blushed, stepping up to the girl with long hair and large, misty eyes, who smiled warmly at her. “Hello, Ginevra,” She said, then tilted her head to look behind the ginger at Harry. “Hello, Harry.”
“Luna,” He nodded, “Hi, how are you?”
“Very well, thank you,” As ever, she was holding a magazine titled ‘The Quibbler’ to her chest, though let go of it with one hand to scratch at the purple Pygmy Puff on Ginny’s shoulder. “Hello, Arnold.”
“Quibbler still going strong, then?” Harry asked, raising an eyebrow at the thing Draco had insisted wasn’t as mad journaling as many people said, and certainly better than the rubbish in the Daily Prophet. Though he believed thoroughly nothing could top Draco’s own newspaper, Malfoy’s Hogwarts News, which he was determined to make the boy bring back.
“Oh yes, circulation is well up,” said Luna and Harry nodded, saying, “Let’s find some seats,” and leaded the four of them off through the hordes of stares and drooling until they finally reached an empty compartment, as usual, at the bright end of the train - the dark was his pre-Goblet term for the Slytherin end between Ron and he, which he never used outside his own head anymore - and they hurried inside and collapsed onto seats, sighing.
“They’re even staring at us,” said Neville, rubbing the back of his neck and reaching in his pocket to retrieve his toad, Trevor, and place him on his lap. “Because we’re with you!” Ginny and Luna both nodded but Harry sighed, shaking his head and placing his backpack on the floor, unzipping it so Prongs could hop out.
“They're staring at you because you were at the Ministry too,” He explained, hoisting his backpack up into the luggage rack. “Our little adventure there was all over the Daily Prophet, you must’ve seen it.”
“Yeah, I thought Gran would be angry about all the publicity,” Neville nodded thoughtfully. “but she was really pleased. Says I'm starting to live up to my dad at long last. She bought me a new wand, look!” He retrieved his ‘new wand’ and showed it off to Harry, who raised his eyebrows high in surprise, but got his question answered in seconds. “I was lucky - one of the last Ollivander ever sold, before he vanished the next day. Cherry and unicorn hair,” He lifted his chin proudly, then turned horrified as his toad hopped off his lap for freedom, as it always tended to do when given the chance, to the point where the Quartet had begun to wonder if Neville was really a good pet owner. “Oi! Come back here, Trevor!”
He dived under his seat to retrieve his toad, and Luna turned to Harry, lifted the pair of psychedelic spectacles that came free with every Quibbler as one needed them to read it out of the magazine and placing them on, making her look quite absurd and causing Ginny to giggle till she turned pink. “Are we still doing H.O.O.D. meetings this year, Harry?” she asked.
“No point now we've got rid of Umbridge, is there?” Harry asked, retrieving a can of crup food from a side pouch in the backpack and tossing some kibbles to Prongs, who slopped them up happily. “And everyone knows Voldemort’s back so there’s nothing to really unite for, right?”
Neville bumped his head against the seat with an, “ouch!” but emerged from it with his toad in his palm. “I liked the HOOD! I learned loads from you!”
Ginny nodded, curling up against the window with her legs to her chest as she tickled Arnold, sitting on her knees. “You’re a really good teacher,” she said.
“I enjoyed the meetings too. It was like having friends.”
They all turned to look at Luna, for she said these sort of dark things often, but they never got easier to hear. Ginny had just shuffled closer to her on her seat, reaching out to lay a hand over hers, when they all were broke out of their serene quiet by a sudden giggling and whispering, and turned to see a group of fourth-year girls standing just on the other side of the glass, the one in front, grinning seductively straight at Harry, being the one he remembered seeing with a love potion at Weasley Wizard Wheezes.
“You ask him!”
“No, you!”
“I'll do it!”
The girl with the potion, who was clearly the boldest of the group, pushed the door open, brushing back a couple curls in her afro of dark hair and batting her large dark eyes at him.
“Hi, Harry, I’m Romilda, Romilda Vane,” she said, or rather shouted, by how loud and bold she was, to the point that Neville winced. “Why don't you join us in our compartment? You don't have to sit with them,” she leaned towards him to stage whisper the last part, nodding to Neville’s back side, sticking out from under his seat, Luna blinking dubiously underneath her absurd, multicolored glasses, and Ginny petting a ball of fluff, her beauty sticking out drastically against her tomboyish clothes.
Harry looked back at her, coldly, and said, “They’re friends of mine,” he leaned in closer, “And they’re the coolest people I know.”
“Oh,” the girl stood straight, looking surprised and even offended, which was certainly the goal. Oh. Okay.” She stepped back, bumped into the sliding door, quickly pushed it open to step through then quietly shut it behind her.
Luna looked straight at him and said, point blank, “People expect you to have cooler friends than us,” then finishing it with a small smile.
“Well, you are the coolest. None of them was at the Ministry. They didn’t fight with me.” All three beamed, looking quite proud to be a part of the Department of Mysteries Rescue Mission Crew That Accidentally Burned Down Malfoy Manor (title pending).
“We didn’t face him, though,” Neville emerged a second and hopefully final time as he now held Trevor more tightly in his hand. “You did. You should hear my gran talk about you,” He cleared his throat and squawked out a hilarious imitation of his old grandmother, “‘That Harry Potter's got more backbone than the whole Ministry of Magic put together!’ She’d give anything to have you as a grandson.” Harry amused smirk at the imitation dropped in a second.
He switched the topic to O.W.L. grades instead, Neville and he reciting theirs and Harry swelled with pride when told he was the sole reason Neville had managed an ‘Exceeds Expectations’ in Transfiguration and Defense Against the Dark Arts. As he talked to an interested Ginny and Luna about what the whole O.W.L. process was like, Harry pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the countryside drearily go by (the smoke of You-Know-Who’s dragons was starting to spread) and thinking of Gregorovitch. Mr. Weasley had said he was going to make sure the Ministry looked into the situation, but would his word even reach Fudge’s ears? The only one inside besides Percy who knew about Harry’s dreams? Clearly, it would be best to send a letter straight to the Minister once he got to the Common Room, though of course, Harry, you’re thinking too far ahead, it’s still daytime -
“You all right, Harry? You look funny,” said Neville, suddenly breaking Harry from his revere, as he jolted off the window and looked around at his friends, blinking at him worriedly. Somehow, Ginny and Luna had gotten side by side so that they were now sharing Luna’s magazine.
“Sorry -”
“Wrackspurt got you?” Luna adjusted her spectacles to look closer at Harry as he raised his eyebrows high.
“I - what?”
“A Wrackspurt… They’re invisible. They float in through your ears and make your brain go fuzzy. I thought I felt one zooming around in here.” She began to flap her hands in the thin air, as if thinking she might beat one or catch one, Harry did not know, but Ginny seemed to find it endearing, as she placed her chin on her hand and smiled. Then, catching Harry and Neville’s curious looks, dubiously asked, “What?”
After about an hour, the compartment door slid open at last and Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Pansy stepped through, barely fitting in the space between seats as Pansy looked straight at Harry to say, “You might want to freshen up your Transfiguration skills, Potter.”
Before Harry could so much as raise his wand a familiar head of hazelnut hair appeared in the compartment.
“Don’t you worry, I’ll get it,” They all turned and gaped as Cedric Diggory stepped in and waved his wand, enlarging the compartment so that it just added more space and seats, unlike Harry’s modest expansion to make it more comfortable last year. He then grinned at them, and as a couple muttered their thanks Ron spared no time in formatlites, skipping straight to, “What the hell are you doing here?” and earning himself a good smack on the arm from Hermione.
Cedric merely laughed and shrugged his shoulders, looking down at himself. “Yes, I guess it would be strange to see me back, but not for me!” He forced a smile and limped forward, so that Harry now took notice that he held a cane in one hand, which he was still leaning heavily onto as he moved forwards. “I never got a Seventh Year, remember? So Dad talked to McGonagall and she worked out having me do a ‘redo’ Year. I’m not Head Boy, but I don’t mind, my question is why I can’t be Captain again. I bet it’s to kill the competition.” He leaned forwards to stage whisper the last part, winking before leaning back and glancing out the compartment door.
“Where’s Cho?” Harry found himself asking, knowing that longing glance anywhere, and Cedric smiled even just at her name like a true man in love. “With her friends. I never liked them much, so she encouraged me to come see you guys,” He waved a hand to the Rescue Mission For Sirius That Turned To A Rescue Mission For Cedric Crew (name still pending) and Harry immediately could tell that hidden under the blanket statement of friendship was also endless thanks. They had saved his life, afterall, or at least Harry and Draco’s friends had, while they were -
He shook his head, trying not to think about it and instead reaching over to remove a game of exploding snap from Ron’s trunk. “Wanna play?”
Cedric opened his mouth to no doubt say yes, judging by the way his lips perked up at the corners, but before he could get the words out the compartment door slid open once more - after six years, Harry was seriously debating throwing in the towel and locking them permanently with magic - and a red faced third-year stepped in, looking breathless by the way she was panting desperately for air and holding four scrolls of parchment tied with violet ribbon.
“I’m supposed to deliver these to Neville Longbottom, Cedric Diggory, and Harry P-Potter,” her voice shook on Harry’s name, and when her eyes met his for a second, her face turned an even dark shade of scarlet. Harry didn’t give her a moment to dwell on that, standing and taking the scrolls addressed to him as Neville and Cedric did the same. The girl stumbled back and scampered out of the compartment.
“What is it?” Ron asked, leaning forwards as Harry unrolled his and raised his eyebrows at it bemusedly.
“An invitation.” He explained.
Harry,
I would be delighted if you would join me for a bit of lunch in compartment C.
Sincerely,
H. Slugworth
“But what does he want me for?” Neville looked up to ask nervously, looking between Harry and Cedric confusedly, no doubt thinking they were much more impressive than he.
“No idea,” said Harry, instead pushing the compartment down open and heading out with Neville and Cedric at his heels, calling, “We’ll be back as soon as we can!” before Cedric closed the door behind them.
-*-*-*-
They did not come back for another three hours, and in that time the teens had gotten well into a game of exploding snap without them, causing Ron and Ginny to dominate the competition, though after an hour and a half Hermione quit and chose to open up the Tales of Beedle the Bard instead, and when Pansy raised her eyebrows and asked why she’d be reading a book of ‘baby stories,’ Hermione simply reminded her of her Muggle upbringing and that shut her up real quick.
When Harry and Neville did return, Cedric was absent, and they explained he had gone back to Cho after the awful lunch, which they could clearly see was abysmal by the looks on their faces.
“It was everyone who’s got ‘ins’, you know,” Harry explained, sitting down and taking up Hermione’s abandoned spot in the game as Neville sat and opened up a Herbology book. “Blaise Zabini with a famous mother, Marcus Belby with a famous uncle, Cormac McLaggen too, and he said Neville was due to his parents. Cedric’s because he was a Triwizard Champion, though, and of course… I’m… me.” There was no need to elaborate on that one.
“If he invited Cedric…” Draco stared at the floor, licking his lips and, though it felt terrible, not being able to stop the awful feeling of jealousy turning its ugly head in his stomach. Old habits die hard, after all. “Why not me? I won the Tournament, right? The Malfoy Family -”
“Are currently being branded as Death Eater’s,” Hermione pointed out, giving Draco a tight lipped smile of sympathy. Harry snapped her fingers at her, and added, “Yep! Zabini was the only Slytherin. Can’t be a coincidence, can it?” Draco frowned deeply, stepped up from the game to sit down and let Altais hop onto his lap, petting her gratefully.
The train came to a halt about a half hour later, and they were all ready by then, decked out in their school robes, carrying their trunks and pets back to the carriages which were still being pulled by Thestrals only Harry, Draco and Neville could see. Briefly, Harry recalled Cedric petting them with him, grinning and calling them marvelous, before he remembered that that had been Barty Crouch Jr all along, so realistically, he couldn’t see them, while the murderer could.
They had to split their party as Ron, Hermione, Draco, and Pansy all went off to do Prefect duties, and Harry, Neville, Luna, and Ginny fought through the crowd to reserve a carriage. There were just enough people to squeeze in comfortably, but anyone else and the Thestrals might not be able to pull them. It was fine, however, for this was the entire Ministry Turned Manor Rescue Mission Crew (they really need to do something about their name), no more, no less.
Conversation turned to the food at the feast as the carriages rolled on across the cobblestones, and they all enjoyed breathing in smoke-free air and looking up at a clear midnight blue sky. No dragons here.
As usual, the carriages stopped when they reached the path to the school and everyone climbed out, but found the crowd at the foot of the path to be even more stuffed than inside the carriage. This, Harry could see when he stood on his toes and craned his neck over the heads of other students, was because they were being directed into a line before the large gates to the school, which had always been open before, but were now firmly closed. Two grim-faced Aurors were standing beside them, waving their wands over various students' trunks before waving them inside.
“C’mon,” Harry mumbled, and led the group to the back of the line, where they patiently waited before placing their trunks, bags, and pet carriers down on the table before the Aurors. As expected, there was nothing out of the ordinary with any of their stuff, and it seemed, judging by the pile Harry could glimpse between the two men, this had been consistent through most of the students as the pile was mostly Weasley Wizard Wheezes products.
“Go on,” The shorter of the two Aurors grunted, and Harry squinted at him for a moment before recalling he’d met him before when Umbridge had discovered the existence of the H.O.O.D; this was the Auror Fudge had called ‘Dawlish.’ Harry gave him a stiff nod and led the group through the gates and up the path to the castle.
It dawned on Harry, as he was trekking up the stone steps and Neville commented to Ron how Slughorn hadn’t seemed the ‘Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor’ type, that with McGonagall Headmistress, who would be left to do the Sorting? An image of Snape grumpily placing the Sorting Hat on eleven year olds heads entered his mind and he smirked and quickened his pace a bit, eager to see if that theory was true.
When they entered the Great Hall he waved off Pansy and Luna as they departed for their tables and said, “See you tomorrow,” to Draco as he waved to him as well, being left with a sinking in his gut as he watched him walk away. Tomorrow they’d be back to inter-house eating, but it was very understandable to keep the boundaries cut nice and clean when eleven year olds needed sorting and shouldn’t be confused by the variety of different colored robes at different tables before them. For now, however, he hated being reminded of how far from each other’s lives he and Draco were at the end of the day, no matter how much unity they strived to create.
Now in a more open environment, people were free to gawk all they wanted at the famous Harry Potter, which didn’t improve his mood in the slightest as he slumped down onto a bench between Neville and Ginny, his best friends happily together as a couple, as they should be, while Draco sat across the room from him.
Within minutes, however, the doors opened once more, and Snape strode in, cape billowing behind him like bat wings as always, with the Sorting Hat tight in his hand. Harry smirked at the sight, because it meant his theory had been true, as a line of round faced eleven year olds stumbled over their robes behind him. Harry had thought the number would steadily increase, as Hermione explained last year, now that the baby boom was going on, but even though these kids would’ve been born sometime around 1985, well after the first War had ended, there were less kids than even in Harry’s year.
This is when he took notice of the various gaps dotting the House tables, and connected the dots in his head that there being a second war, and Dumbledore being dead, many parents were no doubt scared to send their students back to school. Harry recalled even Mrs. Weasley being hesitant and having many late night arguments with Mr. Weasley about it.
Snape placed the stool down at the foot of the staff table dias, as usual, and plopped the Sorting Hat on top. Hundreds of eyes were now trained on the battered old hat and a couple students leaned forward with earnestness to hear what he had to say this year.
Greetings friends,
Young and old,
I’m happy to see you all,
But it is with a sorry soul I see are number have turned small
A war has reached our castle,
One I’ve seen coming for years,
So we must proceeds without an hassle
To this lesson of the year
Once upon a time,
So long ago I’ve nearly forgotten,
A man by a name you all know well,
Found a love fate claimed forbidden
The face of hours Slytherin
And a noble from the highlands
Fell hard and fell deep
Before Lady Viola’s time ran out,
Leaving Salazar to weep
With fury in his heart
And magic in his hand
Thoughts of hate for Muggles spread,
Like wildfire in that can’t be fanned
You, I’m sure, all know how the tale proceeds from here
Salazar left and Rowena died,
But heirs were left to all,
Among them one of Slytherin,
With views so like his ancestor’s fall
Lord Voldemort,
You-Know-Who,
He Who Must Not Be Named
He’s someone he all know well,
But must understand all the same
Slytherin did not hate Muggles, I promise you all this,
He was feared the power that they held,
But now we all live in bliss
For years his ancestors have spread beliefs that we are greater
Them and us
Us and them
But these are lies my friends believe me,
Slytherin only wanted to avenge his love
I can only hope they’re happy now
Together in the beyond
But I know they’d both be brought tears,
See all their children have become
Regardless, let’s start this Sorting,
But remember now young children,
If Slytherin is what calls to you,
Voldemort is just a villain
Clever and cunning,
Loyal and patient,
Smart and creative,
Or brave and noble
You’re all people one in the same,
So though I must divide you,
Remember that to Slytherin,
There was no us, only we.
There was a long period of silence following the end to the song, where everyone simply stared forwards at the hat, open mouthed, before scattered applause started to spread and erupt to an ovation, as Harry turned to look down at his table and frowned deeply. It was true the Sorting Hat had sung a morose warning to them the year before, but this felt a lot different. Last year he’d warned of the war to come and begged them to unite, which they did by the end of the year of course, so this one…
Harry had assumed, along with all his friends, no doubt, that Salazar Slytherin was the worst of the worst when it came to anti-Muggle views, but according to the Sorting Hat that had never been the case, had it? What had he said? His love had died and that had made him hate Muggles? Did Muggles kill her?
Thankfully, when Harry turned he could see that his friends looked just as confused as he felt. Idly, his eyes found the Slytherin table, and he saw that all of the students were now turning to each other looking quite horrified, no doubt whispering to each other about their parent’s views. Had they, their parents, and all their ancestors been lied to for centuries?
Draco only sat staring forward, frowning slightly, his Slytherin friends watching him worriedly on either side of him.
“Ackerly, Oliver.” Was the first boy called up, one of the tallest of the children, with large hands and feet indicating he had hit puberty early, and when he sat on the stoll the Hat contemplated for no more than five seconds before shouting out, “Gryffindor!” Harry cheered loudly along with the rest of his housemates as the boy came towards them, high fiving three kids before sitting beside the third at the edge of the table.
“Batcher, Alys.” Was the next one up and after a minute ‘Hufflepuff!’ was called out, and the names carried on, meanwhile Harry and Ron chose to take bets on which House each kid would end up with. So far Ron was much better at the game than he, but Harry enjoyed the distraction from the creepy song anyway.
There were a great deal of Slytherin’s this year, and Harry assumed this was because Death Eater children felt the safest sending their kids to school, as he recognized the names ‘Nott’ and ‘Yaxley’ among the children. This didn’t aid the feeling of unrest building from the song, however, as all the children looked kind of awkward joining the Slytherin table. Regardless, Ciara Yaxley was the last of all the first years to be sorted, therefore ending the Sorting and allowing McGonagall to stand and make her debut as Headmistress of the school.
“We may be in dark times, but I welcome all of the new students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry with warm tidings, and a promise that you will all be at your safest within these walls. And every bit well fed so, without further ado, tuck in!” And with that the tables became magically laden with foods and cutlery and Harry, eyeing the feast hungrily, had to silently thank Dobby for the delicious looking meal before loading his plate and ‘tucking in.’
It was good to feel back at home, because even if Mrs. Weasley was a really good cook, she was never as good as the feeling of the feasts at Hogwarts, which truly were Harry’s home. That and hearing Ron talk to Dean and Seamus about Quidditch scores, Hermione to Nearly Headless Nick about whatever she felt a man who’d been dead five hundred years could possibly have to say, and Neville ranting about his newest favorite plant fact to Colin, wide eyed and all ears as always - though he’d hit a growth spurt too, and it had become uncomfortable for Harry to look at the now Fifth Year and not think of the baby faced kid with the camera begging for an autograph.
Eventually, after a nice dessert where Harry helped himself to a happy helping of treacle tart, his favorite, the plates were cleared when everyone leaned back in their seats with full stomachs, and Professor McGonagall stood once more, spreading out her hands and gathering their attention not quite as quickly as Dumbledore had, but quick enough that she didn’t seem all too upset.
“Welcome, welcome, everyone. As usual, there are some announcements we must go through before we can begin another year at Hogwarts. The Forbidden Forest is still quite forbidden to all students for your safety outside of regulated visits within a school environment,” Harry of course knew that by ‘regulated’ she meant when Hagrid would take them to see animals in Care of Magical Creatures (and occasional detention punishments, apparently) “And Mr. Filch, the caretaker of the school, wishes to remind you all that there is a strict, no-nonsense ban on any and all joke items bought at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. Quidditch tryouts will be held the second week of classes, and if you wish to play make sure you give your name to the Head of House as usual. There is also an opening for a Quidditch commentator, so anyone wishing to ‘have a go’ must see their Head of House as well.
“There have been some changes in that department, however,” She gestured to the staff table behind her, which certainly had rearranged itself. Even Professor Trelawney had come down for a meal, which she scarcely ever did. In fact, Harry couldn’t remember a time when she ever did. “The Heads of Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin are Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Snape, respectively, as usual, but the Head of Gryffindor is now our Arithmancy Professor; Septima Vector. I would also like to welcome a new member to our staff, Professor Slughorn -” Slughorn stood to bow his balding head, beaming. “He has agreed to resume his old post as Potions master.”
“Potions?!” Harry gave a great jolt in his seat but he wasn’t the only one. Practically every head was now swiveling on its neck and looking among each other in blanket confusion, blurting out, “Potions?” The word echoed around the hall, and when Harry turned in his seat it was to find his best friend’s eyes had turned to him, but all he could offer was a confused shake of the head.
“But that means…”
Ron’s horrified words could only last so long as McGonagall interrupted their whispering to say, “Which of course means Professor Snape will be moving to the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts.” While Snape didn’t stand for this, he did give a rather cheeky smirk to the crowds of students now whisper-shouting to each other in horror.
Harry himself yelled out, “No!” loud enough to draw many people’s attention, and Ron started rambling incoherently about how it was ‘impossible’ and meant ‘the end of the world.’ Hermione drew the baffled Gryffindors to their senses with her own whisper of, “It’s only because Professor McGonagall is Headmistress. Dumbledore would never have allowed it, surely…”
“Well, there is one good thing,” Harry gave his friends his own cheeky smirk to say, rather darkly, “Snape’ll be gone by the end of the year.”
“What do you mean?” Ron asked, looking like he’d lost all hope in humanity.
“That job’s jinxed. No one has lasted more than a year… Quirrell actually died doing it… Personally, I’m going to keep my fingers crossed for another death…”
“Harry!” Hermione gasped, reaching over to try and slap him on the arm but, being across the table this time, he could dodge it well enough.
“He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year,” said Ron, clearly looking for any bright spot to this situation. “That Slughorn bloke might not want to stay long-term.”
Professor McGonagall cleared her throat quite harshly and it did a near perfect job of shutting up the entire Great Hall with ptsd from too many ‘hem, hem’s last year. She didn’t look at all quite happy with their show of ‘welcome’ to the new teachers, saying, “I hope you’ll give me just a few more moments of your attention, as we also have a new Transfiguration Professor to welcome.”
Harry thought, with a snort, that how well this night was going, it might as well have been Umbridge, back again, before he recalled McGonagall telling him who would be teaching and, sure enough, he recognized Hestia Jones as she rose from her seat, grinning at them all as she waved both her hands to the crowd of politely applauding students. It occurred to Harry that outside of the Slytherins and confused first years, no one had applauded Snape. He smirked in spite of himself.
As he remembered her, Professor Jones was young with full rosy cheeks, and a short bob of black hair peeking out under her pointed yellow hat. Being so used to a strict Transfiguration Professor, she wasn’t at all what Harry would have expected, seeming too full of life and, in the way she gave them a dazzling smile that made a couple boys around Harry blush, rather like a Lockhart type.
“She is a close friend of mine, so I would expect you all will treat her with the same respect you gave me.” McGonagall gave the students a dangerous look before continuing in her speech. “My last notes are a lot more serious, so I ask that you listen carefully; Lord Voldemort is back, we all know this, and we all know we are currently at war with him and his followers. But, as I said before, no matter how dark and dangerous the future may get, I can’t stress enough how safe you all are within the walls of Hogwarts. Yes, I am aware Viktor Krum was murdered two years ago, and the former Headmaster, Professor Dumbledore, last year. But that will not happen again. There have been several security restrictions placed in and around this school for your safety, and if you want to make sure you do not end up like those poor men before you, I strongly advise you heed to those restrictions imposed upon you. None of you are to be out after hours. Last year, your Headmaster was killed by a spy among us. I ask that if any of you notice suspicious behavior within or outside the castle, you must report it, and you might save your life and maybe a great deal of others too.
“Now, you are all dismissed. I bid you goodnight,” She bowed her head and sat down once more, and, with a great deal of scraping as people pushed the benches along the tables away to get to their feet, the students all began to head to their common rooms. As they turned for the marble staircase up, and he turned down, Harry caught a glimpse of pale blonde hair among a crowd of green robes, and thought back to the Hat’s song, and the reveal that Slytherin hadn’t hated Muggles all along.
The Sorting Hat’s words serenaded Harry to sleep and didn’t stop until his dreams were flooded with wands and the name, ‘Gregorovitch.’