Chapter 2
Chapter 2
Draco Malfoy sneered. “Potter,” he spat, the tenor of the word as chilled as ever. Harry looked Draco up and down with menace. The blond boy’s frame stood out – he was made of long, lean lines, frailer than the last time they’d seen each other. Harry stashed that information in the back of his mind. The surprise of running into his longtime nemesis caused the bespectacled wizard to fumble, and he needed a minute to recuperate.
“Malfoy,” Harry replied a moment later, mustering up the bravado as best he could. Hostility had been present between the two boys since their first encounter, but standing in the swaying train car, it felt magnified now more than ever. How could it not, with all that happened? Malfoy’s father was in prison, and Harry knew Draco blamed him. There were innumerable deaths pressing down between them, sharpening that juvenile hostility into something violent. And yet there was a fragment of something gentler in Harry’s chest. He knew what it felt like to be without a father (or a mother) and somewhere deep down he almost felt sorry for Draco as he stood before the malnourished wizard. Harry still very much blamed Mr. Malfoy for ending up in Azkaban, but he felt bad that Draco had to suffer because of it. In truth, who did Draco have left? For the first time since he knew Malfoy, Harry had a moment of realization: they both suffered incalculable loss in the Battle of Hogwarts.
“Are you going to move?” Draco asked, his gray eyes aflame. His arrogant tone stirred something dark in Harry, but he resisted rising to the bait. He started to shift his body against the wall of the small corridor, making room for Draco to pass. Draco scoffed and took a step forward, only to be stopped by Harry’s arm suddenly placed in front of his chest, blocking the way.
“Malfoy…” he started. He swallowed his pride and decided to try to meet Draco halfway. “Draco,” he said. Saying his nemesis’ first name felt sacrilegious. He noticed Draco pull his chin in towards his chest, clearly surprised. “Have a good year…” Harry finished and moved aside.
“Whatever,” Draco mumbled as he shoved himself forward. Harry didn’t know what to make of his reaction, but the important thing was that he tried. What he really wanted to tell the blond boy was that he saw how much he was hurting, but truths so earnest were unheard of between them. If he was being truthful with himself, Harry couldn’t even talk that openly with his closest mates. As his mind drifted to and from this new caricature of Draco Malfoy, Harry couldn’t help but think of the seven years that led them to this point. He would never say he was sorry for taking a part in the war, for downing his enemies and ending Voldemort’s reign, but he understood that Draco’s life had been shattered in the fallout. He was nearly sorry for that – nearly.
By the time Harry returned to his cabin, his brain dwelled on memories of just how vile Malfoy could be. Focusing on the negative made that strange ache in his chest ease. He smiled to himself, remembering their third year when he’d had the privilege of seeing Hermione knock that grimy smile right off his alabaster face. It was this image that lulled him to sleep as he half-listened to the chatter of Ron, Hermione, and Ginny around him.
The next time Harry opened his eyes they were pulling up to Hogwarts. He quickly changed into his robes, the sensation coursing through him a thrill like he’d never known. For the first time, he was returning to Hogwarts safe, all signs pointing to this being a normal year. The students were filing off the train, some clearly excited, and others clearly worried. A loud booming voice carried over the crowd that made Harry’s heart soar. Harry looked up to see Hagrid’s large, shiny face. He grabbed Ginny’s hand and immediately started pushing through the crowd to see his friend.
“Harry! Ginny!” Hagrid exclaimed when their eyes met. “Harry, it’s good to see yer!” the half-giant boomed. Large tears started to run down his face as Harry ran to hug him.
“Hagrid! We’ve done it, we’ve made it back to Hogwarts!” was all he could say through the squeeze of his throat. Hagrid was really the beginning of Harry’s wizarding experience, and it felt right that he was the first person to greet him.
“Blimey, Harry, I didn’t even know you was comin’ back to Hogwarts.” A pang of guilt rang through Harry. He really had forgotten to tell Hagrid about his return. Harry saw Ginny shift uncomfortably at the interaction from the corner of his eye. All summer, Harry had been diligent about repressing anything related to Hogwarts or Voldemort since the Battle. For those months, he needed to recover.
“Yeah, sorry about that, Hagrid,” Harry apologized, running an awkward hand through his untidy hair. “It just slipped my mind. I’ve been focused on, er, other things. Giving Hogwarts a bit of a rest…”
“Oh, don’ worry ‘bout me, Harry. Jus’ try ter have a good year.” And with that, Hagrid gave them a final wink and turned back to directing the first years.
“Harry, Ginny, come on!” he heard Hermione yell. The couple walked back to Ron and Hermione. He quickly told them about running into Hagrid, and the four of them entered the front doors of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.
After getting settled in the Great Hall, all students were restlessly awaiting the beginning of the sorting ceremony. First years were huddled near the front, while older students arranged themselves at their house tables. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were seated towards the front, but not too close. Hermione had made a comment earlier about protecting Harry, which only made his cheeks burn. She was worried he’d be bothered by everyone and endlessly questioned. As much as he hated the attention, he hated that his friends felt the need to protect him even more. As Harry sat at the scarlet-clad table, his ears burned at a nasty comment made by a Ravenclaw walking between the isles.
“Look at those Gryffindors all sitting there with chips on their shoulders, as if we all didn’t fight in that bloody battle. Every house participated, but the Gryffindors are the ones who take all the credit.”
It was an older girl. Maybe a sixth year? Harry hadn’t known her personally, but her pudgy face and thick glasses were familiar. “Oh, don’t listen to them, Harry” Hermione whispered. He hadn’t realized she’d caught the comment, too.
“I just don’t want to be reminded of it all the time,” he mumbled. He looked down and fiddled with the table runner. Ron gave Harry’s back what was supposed to be a comforting thwack. Harry lifted his head to look at Ginny, to see peace in her eyes and smile, but she was caught up in conversation. Something about the way Ginny was basking in the conversation, in the large group surrounding her, rubbed him the wrong way. Over the summer, they had a conversation about the attention that would follow them their whole lives. Harry said he couldn’t help but hate it. He was startled when Ginny only sighed and reminded him that he was the Chosen One, and The Boy Who Lived now as well. She acted as if defeating Voldemort was his claim to fame, rather than his life-or-death task. Ginny, who was pure and strong, chose to reframe the greatest tragedy of their lives at some point. She wouldn’t give anymore of her tears towards Voldemort. As much as Harry admired the sentiment, he knew he’d never reach that place.
“Attention, students” McGonagall said, snapping Harry out of his thoughts. “We are about to begin the sorting ceremony, if you could please give your attention to the Sorting Hat, we may start at once.”
The raggedy hat was placed on the same stool as always. What appeared to be a flat, boring hat suddenly revealed its face. After what sounded like it clearing its throat (if hats even had throats?) it began:
Our Hogwarts kin
We will begin
To sort our youngest friends;
We have returned
From lessons learned
That brought evil to its end.
This castle is historic
Its people are heroic,
What once was a site of blood that spilled
Has again become re-built.
Four houses stood to fight for us
And in the end, we won.
Four houses stand before all ye
So let’s find where you belong.
Will you be in Hufflepuff,
The diligent, happy lot?
Their loyalty and work ethic
Make them a worthy spot.
Or will you be in Ravenclaw,
The brightest wizards you ever saw?
Their intelligence and cleverness
Makes them stand out from the rest.
Still there are more options,
More houses you may belong.
Like Slytherin, the snake-eyed stars,
Whose cunning makes them strong.
Pure in blood and powerful,
This founding house is never dull.
Lastly we have Gryffindor,
The house of wit and strength.
Their bravery is unmatched
They’ve saved this castle’s fate.
Once again, I will sort ye
To the house that you belong.
I read your mind, so rest assured
I couldn’t sort you wrong.
The castle erupted into applause at the Sorting Hat’s song. Ron and Harry were whooping as loud as they could while Hermione and Ginny laughed and bellowed.
“Anderson, Amelia” McGonagall said once the hall quieted. A small girl walked forward. She sat happily on the stool and the headmistress placed the hat on her head.
“Hmmm,” the hat said quietly. “Ought to be… RAVENCLAW!” The hall again burst out in cheers, mostly coming from the Ravenclaw table.
“Shame,” Ginny said. She smiled at Harry and winked.
McGonagall went through several more names. So far, Gryffindor added Alvin, Patrick, Bunson, Eliza, and Caldwell, Jensen to their house. The eleven-year olds came running towards the long table, absolutely swimming in their robes. The lot of them seemed to buzz with curiosity and glee. One of them, Eliza Bunson, kept stealing glances at Harry, looking as if she had a million questions floating in her head. It made him awkward so he angled his body more towards his friends.
“Mate, look at the professor’s table,” Ron said, motioning with his hand. Harry looked up and scanned. He saw many familiar faces, and quite a few new ones. Professor Slughorn was still residing. Harry supposed he was to teach potions again. Next to Slughorn, Harry saw a professor he didn’t recognize at all. He realized she was sitting in Professor Mcgonagall’s old spot. Could this be the new Head of Gryffindor House? Now that he thought about it, Slytherin House needed a new head as well. The students were about to meet the new Defense against the Dark Arts and Transformation teachers, he thought.
The woman in Professor McGonagall’s old spot was very pretty. She had straight, shiny black hair and a soft angelic face. Harry couldn’t help but wonder if she was even old enough to teach here.
A boring looking man was in Professor Severus Snape’s old spot. It hurt Harry to look for too long at the seat Snape should have been in, so he didn’t get a good look. All he knew was that the new guy had dirty blonde hair and a stain on his cloak. Ron made a comment about his wiry glasses making his eyes look over-large, so Harry supposed that was a third thing he knew about the man.
Once the last student (Zyllin, Makenna) was sorted into Slytherin, McGonagall made her way to the podium once more. She made a candid speech about the spirit of progress and the essence of magic that Harry tuned out most of. He was sure it was good though, judging by everyone else’s reactions and the atmosphere he felt. He even saw the Hogwarts ghosts and Peeves the Poltergeist nod their heads in respect and agreement. What caught his attention was McGonagall saying it was time for “introductions in an age of new beginnings.”
“Miss Penelope Hart,” she said, motioning to the pretty witch. “Our new professor of Magical Combat and Defense, which was formerly known as Defense against the Dark Arts, as well as Head of my own house, Gryffindor.” She paused for claps and cheers from the Gryffindor table before continuing. “Professor Hart has an advanced degree in Magical Defense and has interned with the Department of Strategic Magical Combat in the Magical Congress of the United States of America. She went on to shadow professors at Ilvermorny school. She moved to London a few years ago and we’re lucky to have her.” McGonagall’s face was glowing, like she personally plucked the needle out of a metaphorical haystack.
Professor Hart stood up and looked over the crowd of students. “Come to me with any questions,” she said. Her voice was warm and soft. “I travel a lot, I go back and forth from here to London to see my wife, but feel free to pop in whenever I’m here. And yes, I did attend Hogwarts as a little girl. I didn’t graduate here, but I spent years 1-3 here before moving to Colombia with my family. It’s an honor to be here.”
“We’re very excited for you, Miss Hart.” McGonagall said again, smiling. “Next, let’s welcome Professor Noah Hobb, head of Slytherin House, and our new Transfiguration Expert.” The lines around McGonagall’s mouth were tight, Harry noticed. He never thought McGonagall would give up being the Transfiguration teacher, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and McGonagall was the perfect replacement for Dumbledore. She went from being interim Headmistress to a permanent installment a few weeks after the Battle.
She continued, “Mr. Hobb is a Hogwarts graduate, has papers published in peer-reviewed magical journals, and has a book on Transfiguration in the 21st Century. He comes to us after many years of spell-testing and development at The Ministry of Magic.”
The man awkwardly raised a hand then sat down, not paying much attention to the hall of students ogling him. His reception was polite, but not as obviously positive as Professor Hart’s, probably due to his affiliation with The Ministry. The organization had not built up the reputation it once had after the war.
Not too long after the professor introductions, the tables filled with a feast to top all feasts. Harry had never seen so many options, even at Hogwarts. He and Ron immediately started grabbing at the goodies in front of them. This food tasted like home. It seemed that every Hogwarts student was gorging themselves until they were left in a sleepy, stuffed coma.
When the students started filing out, Harry, Ron, Hermione, and a handful of other eighth year students (including Draco Malfoy) waited back for the headmistress to show them their new rooms. Draco was all alone. His minions, Crabbe and Goyle, were gone. Goyle died in the Battle of Hogwarts, trying to hurt Harry and stop him from getting the horcrux in the room of requirement. Vincent Crabbe simply hadn’t returned, Harry later learned. He was sick of school, which Harry thought odd, considering he never actually participated in classes. Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini were Draco’s last friends, but even they was nowhere to be found.
When they reached a lavish corridor, McGonagall turned to them and said “Pair off. You’re adults, we feel you can decide amongst yourselves whom to live with. Eighth year dormitories fit two students to a room. Since your rooms are farther away from the rest of the living quarters, shared bathrooms are available. There is once bathroom connecting every two rooms. A lobby and living area are available as well.” Pair off, Harry thought. Ron looked at him awkwardly. Harry didn’t want to be responsible for making Ron choose between his best friend and his girlfriend, but he wouldn’t know who else to live with. His second pick would be Hermione, and she was going to be with Ron! If only Ginny had been the same year as him, then she could be his roommate.
“Go on,” Harry said to them, trying to come off as genuine. “I’ll get the neighboring suite with whoever…” he looked around. Dean and Seamus paired off. Neville wasn’t here, Luna was younger than Harry as well. Everybody else standing around had either cowered away from or bullied Harry his whole life. He hesitated too long, because before he knew it only one git was left.
Draco Malfoy had anxiously looked around when the headmistress told them to pair off. Draco hadn’t any friends, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to make any new ones. His mother forced him to return to Hogwarts, after all. She told him that it’s his best shot at a life, at any redemption or acceptance at all. No pressure, he remembered thinking.
“Nobody will want to hire a Malfoy anymore, our name is mud,” Narcissa had said. “For the love of Merlin, don’t give them any more reason to discount you by not having a proper education. You’ll never get a job without one!” She insisted that a Hogwarts degree was priceless. He argued, saying his talent could speak for itself, but when Narcissa Malfoy looked at him and said “Draco, we’ve lost everything. My sister. Your father. Everything. Please, just don’t make it worse,” he realized how bad his situation actually was.
So, here he was, standing alone on the polished floor of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, wishing he knew a spell that could allow him to melt through the floor. He had walked over to a meager looking boy and asked if they could room. The boy shook his head no without even giving an explanation. Nobody wants to be friends with a traitor, Draco thought. Hadn’t they known he risked his life to save Harry? Just to give Hogwarts a fighting chance? He crossed lines, in the end. Papers slandered the Malfoy name all summer, framing Lucius as a traitor (fair enough) and Narcissa and Draco as cowards for fleeing the Battle. Draco had spent many drunk nights cursing that one. The public seemed they would have preferred he just died.
That boy’s rejection in the face of Draco swallowing his pride was his breaking point. Draco didn’t have it in him to try any more. He shoved his pale fists in his pockets and waited for whoever was left. Unfortunately for Draco, the only one left was the absolute last person he wanted to room with.
“Oh, my…” McGonagall said when she realized the unfortunate luck. “Is there any last-minute changes anyone would like to make?” Her eyes flitted around the crowd as she tried to gently remedy the situation. Of course, nobody wanted to switch. Harry Potter was practically a bad luck charm, and everyone was pretty sure Draco Malfoy would trade your organs for cursed objects. Draco thought about Harry’s attempt at kindness on the Hogwarts Express earlier in an attempt to comfort himself. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. After all, there was a reason that Draco risked his life for Harry. Maybe Potter wouldn’t be so insufferable this year, especially with no reason for him to be paraded around as the Chosen One anymore.
Harry, on the other hand, was thinking of any way to get out of this, but every path led him back to rooming with Malfoy. If he talked to McGonagall she’d say nothing could be done. She'd already gone to the effort of arranging rooms for them. He couldn’t stow away in Ron and Hermione’s room all the time. He supposed he could just be there most of the time. Harry just couldn’t bear to think of rooming with Draco bleeding Malfoy for his final year at Hogwarts. Draco was a constant reminder of all the bad things the boys had been through. But then again, Harry supposed that meant Draco was the one person who could relate the most…