Together United
For the first time all year, the Quartet’s section of table in the Great Hall was completely silent during the end of year feast. It was jarring, as this group was usually buzzing with excitement and conversation, and had just a few days ago sat joking with the other Champions, their families, and the twins. And Viktor…
Hermione was trying to stay strong for Harry and Draco, understanding the hurt was different for the two who had watched his death happen, unable to stop it, but it didn’t make it all hurt any less on the inside. On the inside she felt like she was crumbling in on herself, because she could never say she’d loved Viktor romantically, but in the intimate way of him being the first boy she met who truly cared for and understood her.
She wasn’t sure she’d ever look at the Great Lake again the same way, reminded of their boating dates. Sometimes she closed her eyes and still heard his voice in her ear, or felt his hand in hers. It was awful, and she’d be lying if she said she hadn’t cried, as every night since the Task she’d sobbed her heart out under the covers, where she was sure her friends wouldn’t hear, and where Lavender and Parvati had promised not to tell anyone.
Harry had found himself too numb to cry, and Draco had only subdued it by the fear he felt if his friends caught him teary eyed and by petting Altais, whom he’d grown ever more attached to and fond of in the past week. Meanwhile, Ron had pulled out his stash of Krum merchandise, which he’d hidden after he started dating Hermione, and torn it to shreds. Burning it, blowing it up, anything to get rid of the stuff. Not one boy in the Common Room questioned it once they’d see what he’d done, and no one ever would.
Viktor’s death had affected the rest of the school too, but in wildly different ways. Plus other schools than Hogwarts. The fans of the player had been unable to tear down their merchandise like Ron had immediately, instead using it as a shrine or memorial they practically prayed to every night, and the girls (and boys) who had been fawning at his heels were in guilty fits of tears at unpredictable moments, including this feast.
Then there were the other Champions, who while they all hadn’t been in the Graveyard, or even in the maze at all, survivor's guilt still, and may always, hang over them like a dark, permanent cloud. And it was raining, hard, so much that Cho Chang hadn’t gotten Cedric’s eyes to meet hers since the Task, while Hugo and Anya clung to each other all night, as if their combined tears would wash away the grief ridden rain. But it didn’t, and here they all were for a final feast, meant to be celebrating. Maybe in a long gone alternate reality they would be.
There were changes to the staff table. The real Mad-Eye Moody was seated in the imposters place, and the group knew that Dumbledore had neglected to tell anyone that they had been taught by an imposter all year, by word of Fudge, who he was willing to do anything for simply to maintain the loose trust they had going on.
Now Moody sat with his leg and eye restored, after the two were found outside of the Forbidden Forest during Fudge's extensive search of the school. He jumped at every slight movement around him, even if it was just McGonagall passing the potatoes. This came as nothing of a surprise, as Moody had always been paranoid, but now he'd spent the past ten months in a trunk and the man who put him there was still alive and on the loose, so he was bound to be at least a little jumpy, and no one blamed him.
Karkaroff's chair was vacant beside Madame Maxime, and he had in fact been missing all week, so it came as no surprise. Harry had made up an image to himself of Barty, Mr. Malfoy, and Karkaroff all escaping into the woods that fateful night and to him it seemed pretty realistic to what must have happened. But he did wonder if Karkaroff had survived past that initial escape--if Voldemort had disposed of him as he’d said he would do to the Death Eater’s that didn’t show up at the graveyard.
Speaking of Madame Maxime, she was speaking kindly to Hagrid beside her, something that would be jarring if the Quartet had not already been told by their friend that the two were talking again due to a ‘secret mission’ Dumbledore was sending them on over the summer.
Further along the table sat Professor McGonagall beside Snape, as usual. This time, however, when Harry’s eyes did their seemingly daily scan of the table, they lingered on the Potions Master, and he did the same, an expression all too difficult to read gripping his features. And even as he turned away to speak to McGonagall, Harry kept looking, feeling his own face darken as his thoughts did as well.
“Do you trust him?” Harry asked, tapping Draco’s shoulder, and the blonde startled, confused for a moment, before looking up at the table and putting two and two together. “Yes.” He said, looking back at his friend and shrugging his shoulders as if it were obvious, though the expression on Harry’s face said the exact opposite. “Why?”
“Well, I’ve known him all my life. He’s a friend of my father’s.” Harry winced, jabbing a fork into his steak. “But that doesn’t make him a good person.” He looked up in surprise at Draco to find him smiling comfortingly and honestly. “He isn’t. But… Dumbledore trusts him, right? And if this year has taught me anything it’s to rely on Dumbledore’s trust in people. He gave me a second chance, right? Maybe he still sees something in that greasy haired bat.” Harry nodded simply, shrugging his shoulders. “Yeah, maybe…”
Professor Dumbledore himself stood up from the staff table after that, instantly grabbing Harry’s and the rest of the Great Hall’s attention, which wasn’t hard to do considering everyone had been solemn and not as loud as usual, already anticipating a speech.
“The end,” began Dumbledore, looking around at them all with solemn and exhausted eyes. “Of another year. There is much that I would like to say to you all tonight, but I must first acknowledge the loss of a very fine person, who should be sitting here,” he gestured to the Gryffindor table, specifically where the Quartet sat, and a muscle underneath Hermione’s eyes twitched just slightly. “Enjoying our feast with us. I would like you all, please, to stand, and raise your glasses, to Viktor Krum.”
They did. Every person at every table, without a single word exchanged, stood up from their seats and raised their goblets towards the air, and every person echoed a name in unison. One unified school--unified as it had never been before solely due to a simple event happening in the very same room months ago, when two boys hands interlocked in a peace offering--said all together, “Viktor Krum.” Then everyone sat again.
“Viktor was a boy no one truly understood until he walked our halls with us this year. He was a star athlete with a handsome face, but this year he became a friend. He never once showed any resentment towards his fellow Champions, whom he treated as equals, nor did he for one moment take all he had in life for granted. He didn’t hold himself above anyone, and in fact, only wished to be treated as any other student seated here today--as a person, and a child. Which, although of age, was still what he was when he was taken from us, and for that reason, because he was a student like you and similar to each and every one of you in ways you’ll possibly never understand, I believe you deserve to know the full truth of how his death came to be.
“Viktor Krum was murdered by Lord Voldemort.” Instantly, whispers bounced off the walls of the Hall as the children fell into panicked exclamations of fright and confusion. Of disbelief, and of horror. But Dumbldore remained calm, if getting sadder in the eyes, and the Quartet remained frozen still in staring at him solemnly.
“The Ministry of Magic does not wish me to tell you this, but you will find out sooner or later, and I am unsure how much the truth shall be messed with when you do receive it. It is possible that some of your parents will be horrified by said truth--either because they will not believe that Lord Voldemort has returned, or because they think I should not tell you so, young as you are. It is my belief, however, that the truth is generally preferable to lies, and that any attempt to pretend that Viktor died as a result of an accident, or some sort of blunder of his own, is an insult to his memory.”
There wasn’t a single person who wasn’t watching Dumbldore with the same stunned and frightened expression, even those at the Slytherin table. Even Pansy Parkinson. Because there was one thing they all had in common here; they were children, and they were terrified.
“There is somebody else who must be mentioned in connection with Viktor’s death,” Dumbledore continued. “I am talking, of course, about Harry Potter.” A wave of mutterings, and a few glances his way, before Draco glared threateningly and protectively back at them and the heads swiveled back around to Dumbledore. “Harry Potter managed to escape Lord Voldemort. He sent his friend Draco Malfoy back with Viktor’s body and left himself alone at evil’s mercy, knowing Draco would die if he didn’t escape. He showed, in every respect, the sort of bravery that few wizards have ever shown in facing Lord Voldemort, and for this, I honor him.”
So everyone stood and raised their goblets as Dumbledore did, a unanimous, “Harry Potter.” echoing once again. Harry couldn’t help but notice around all the standing kids Pansy had to be dragged to her feet, but she still ended up with her glass raised in the end. When everyone resumed their seats, Dumbledore continued, and his next words started more murmurs of surprise.
“But I would also like to take this moment to honor a boy I am very proud of this year. A boy who, up until a few months ago, when he sat in this very hall, among all of you, and befriended a boy who he would go on to save the life of, and who saved his life as well, had always made the wrong choices. A boy whose destiny was written in the stars like the constellation he’s named for before he was ever born, and yet who managed to change it in that one moment, and has continued to surprise me all year. I ask all of you kindly, to raise your glasses to the boy who saved Harry’s life that fateful night, with bravery of the likes I’ve never seen from Slytherin house before. To Draco Malfoy.”
Draco gaped in surprise as people stood up and raised their goblets, all murmuring his name while the Slytherin table (and Fred and George) shouted it like a call to arms. He was still too stunned to speak when Harry brought him up to his feet and hugged him tight, and for a moment it was just the two of them hugging, and the fears of the war became drowned out, and when Harry pulled away, Draco could hear the Slytherin’s cheering, and Dumbledore could feel the sting of tears at the sight of the whole school united, what had been a dream and a fantasy just a year ago, and been made reality because of those two boys.
And so, as the boys sat down after the whole school had, Dumbledore continued on with endearing pride, not solemness. With encouraging triumph for the future.
“The Triwizard Tournament’s aim was to further and promote magical understanding. In the light of what has happened--of Lord Voldemort’s return--such ties are more important than ever. Which is why I am so proud of all that the students before me have accomplished. For the unity I now see before me. It says enough that we are all standing here today in grief over the loss of a student we’ve only known for a year, but to me that shows hope. Hope that we can still win the battles sure to come. Hope that more people will make the right choices in these walls, and become like the two boys we’ve honored today, or even the one we’ve lost, though I hope no more death will plague our castle walls. With that said, to the schools who have joined us this year, and to their wonderful students, if any of you wish to come back to Hogwarts, you are always welcome. I say to you all, once again--in the light of Lord Voldemort’s return, we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Lord Voldemort’s gift for spreading discord and enmity is very great. We can fight it only by showing an equally strong bond of friendship and trust. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts open. It is my belief--and never have I so hoped that I am mistaken--that we are all facing dark and difficult times. Some of you in this Hall have already suffered directly at the hands of Lord Voldemort. Many of your families have been torn asunder. A week ago, a student was taken from us all, whether he belonged to our school or not.
“Remember Viktor. Remember, if the time should come when you have to make a choice between what is and what is easy, remember what happened to a boy who was good, and kind, and brave, because he strayed across the path of Lord Voldemort. Remember Viktor Krum.”
And they would never forget him, and as everyone applauded when Dumbledore sat down again, there were tears all around, but Harry was surprised slightly and felt awful when he saw that there Hermione sat across from them, and for the first time ever, she was openly crying in front of them, tears pouring down her cheeks and onto her robes. And no one said a word, because she needed to let it out, she deserved to be able to. They just simply stood, and headed out of the Hall, and soon she followed, her heart heavy with grief but her mind cleared for the moment enough that she’d be able to remain strong for now.
-*-*-*-
As usual, the entrance hall was packed with students waiting for the carriages that would take them back to Hogsmeade station, and the Quartet stood amongst them all. Ron stood shifting from foot to foot with one arm leaned on his trunk, glancing worriedly at his friends. Hermione stood beside him, clutching Crookshanks in her arms and solemnly staring at the cobblestone path before them. Draco stood beside her, clutching Altais just as tight as Hermione held her cat, unaware of the way the two were attempting to play with each other, instead focused on Harry, whom he held hands with, and whom looked sad as he stuck his fingers through the bars of Hedwig’s cage and stroked her feathers.
“Your owl is so much better than mine.” Draco attempted to cheer him up, getting Harry to look around in surprise, gesturing with their interlocked hands towards the blonde’s own cage with an eagle owl perched inside. “Draco, you have an eagle that’s probably worth more than my Aunt and Uncle’s house.” “Yeah but he never has any fun.” Draco frowned, glaring at the thing and finally getting Harry to grin.
It was a beautiful summer’s day, and the group could see some kids still enjoying it by climbing up trees and rolling in the grass, enjoying the sun. But Harry couldn’t take solace in the weather at the thought of how hot it would be at Privet Drive, in a not good way. He didn’t want to go back there--he never did--but he kept trying to remind himself Dumbledore must have his reasons for sending him back every year, and that his friends were sure to write, as they had promised a millions times over.
“‘Arry! Draco!” The whole Quartet looked around wildly at the sound of the familiar french accented voice, and Harry tilted his head in question as Fleur Delacour pushed through crowds of people to get to them. Behind her, they could see that Hagrid was helping Madame Maxime back two of the giant horses into their harness, and a wave of blue was boarding the carriage. When he glanced back, he saw Fleur was a foot away now, and Tess was at her heels.
“We will see each other again, I hope.” Said Fleur as she reached him, holding out her hand. “I am hoping to get a job here, to improve my English.” Harry smiled, shaking her hand then hugging her, much to Ron’s displeasure but Hermione stopped him from saying anything with a jab in the gut and a threatening hiss from Crookshanks. “And you’re sure to see Tessie.” Fleur said as she pulled back from Harry, smirking at her friend. “Percival has asked her to stay at the… Burrow?” Tess blushed and scowled at her friend. “I told you to call him Percy, and don’t be all high and mighty! I’ve seen the way you look at that handsome older brother of his…” Now it was Fleur’s turn to turn scarlet as she yelped something in French and smacked Tess’ shoulder.
“Well, either way, we’ll see each other soon again.” Harry smiled at the two girls. “I’ll be looking forward to it.” He said then, behind them, he could see Fernando push students aside to yell, “Come on, the carriage can’t stay all day!” And with a hug from Draco to both girls, they waved each other off. “Goodbye, boys!” Tess yelled while Fleur exclaimed, “It has been a pleasure meeting you!”
“Wonder how the Durmstrang students are getting back,” Said Ron aloud while they waved at the carriage lifting itself into the air. “D’you reckon they can steer that ship without Karkaroff?”
“Ha! Like he would ever do any work like that!” The group turned the other way around and saw Hugo Olsson and Anya Sallow, coming to stand in front of them and grinning. “He held up in his cabin and let us do the work.” Hugo finished and Anya smiled towards her fellow former Champions. “I hope you have a good summer boys, it was nice meeting you. And, Draco, sorry about--”
“The Bludger wasn’t your fault, Sallow.” Draco said, waving a hand. “It’s fine,” and before Hugo could say a word after stepping forward he again said, “It wasn’t your fault, you were imperiused.” The two’s eyes went wide, and they glanced at each other, then back at Draco, exclaiming, “How did you--”
“You know you really should be more secretive in your talks in the woods, you know.” Something clicked in Anya’s eyes, and she laughed, clapping Draco on the shoulder. “Ah you stubborn Hogwartsy. You never cease to amaze me.” And with that she waved and was jogging off, Hugo waving and following, leaving Draco behind mouthing, “Hogwartsy” in horror and confusion.
-*-*-*-
On the train back to King’s Cross, the Gryffindor’s showed their new Slytherin friend to their compartment and despite the fact that he knew exactly where it was every year--had stopped to talk to them every year in fact--it still felt a lot different to be walking their with them. To sit himself beside Harry and lean against the window, watching how these longtime friends interacted on the long ride back, which was anything but how he had acted with his friends.
Hermione was deeply entranced in that book Harry had noticed her reading months again, Animagi: The Real Truth, while Crookshanks and Altais played together at her feet with a ball Draco had made them out of candy wrappers from the Trolley. Ron and Harry were meanwhile in the midst of an intense chess game, and through it all, the group talked more freely then they had all week, as if Dumbledore’s speech had truly lifted the weight of the Fifth Task off their shoulders, if only for today.
After lunch, Hermione put aside her book on animagus’ and pulled a copy of the Daily Prophet from her bag, causing the boys to hesitate at the sight of it. But Hermione waved a hand. “Oh don’t worry, there’s nothing in here. What with Rita Skeeter not writing anything and all.” She said, with a hint of mischief in her voice that made the boy's eyes go wide.
“Er… Hermione? What exactly did you do with Rita Skeeter?” Ron asked and she smiled, digging deeper into her bag and removing the familiar jar. “Nothing. She’s right here.” The boy’s again jumped in their seats. “Hermione!”
“What? Oh don’t worry, I’ve told her I’ll let her out when we get back to London!” Hermione exclaimed. “I’ve put an Unbreakable Charm on the jar, you see, so she can’t transform. And I’ve told her she’s to keep her quill to herself for a whole year. See if she can’t break the habit of writing horrible lies about people.” Draco shook his head in horror as she placed the jar back in her bag with a satisfactory smile. “Every day you continuously surprise me, Hermione Granger.”
The door of the compartment slid open, and the group turned in surprise as an annoying voice drawled, “Yes, yes, the Mudblood’s oh so clever, we know.” Everyone scowled as Pansy Parkinson pranced into their space, withdrawing the jar from Hermione’s bag and tossing it in the air before catching it again. “But of course we’re all so glad that you have saved us from the wrath of this awful beetle, aren’t we Draco?” She winked over at the blonde, who moved to stand but Harry grabbed his shoulder and forced him down again, where he glowered at the girl.
“Quit pretending we’re friends, Parkinson. We aren’t. You made that very clear with how you tried to welcome me back to the Common Room after the Third Task, and countless times before. You just realized you have no one left on your side, right? Even your future husband is off back to Beauxbatons.” Pansy spun around and glared at him.
“I am not!” She scoffed, tossing the jar into the air again as she surveyed the compartment. “I just don’t understand it… Look at them! These are the worst sort you could be fraternizing around with--” “I’m sorry, Pansy,” Now Draco did stand, and Harry didn’t stop him, stepping towards the girl and causing her to stumble backward, out of the compartment. He gripped the door, snatching the jar from her hands, smirking slightly. “But I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks.” and with a slam, he had closed the door in her face.
They watched as she scoffed and swore mutely at them on the other side, before stomping away.
Draco sighed and turned and handed the jar back to Hermione, while Ron whistled and clapped, Harry laughing to himself for the first time since long before the Fifth Task. Soon, the others all found themselves laughing as well, Hermione tossing Rita in the air one final time before jamming the jar into the depths of her bag.
A few minutes passed, and the door slid open once more, and the kids all turned apprehensively but sighed at the sight of the twins, wearing identical grins on their freckled faces. “Hello you four.” Fred greeted. “We’re just here to check up on our boss. You know, to see if he’ll still be our boss next year.” They all turned to Draco, who raised an eyebrow, then seemed to realize what they met as his lips formed and ‘oh’, and he shakes his head.
“No.”
“What?”
“Boys, you have your own business,” The blonde gestured to the Weasley Wizard Wheezes products peeking out of their robe pockets. “I can’t glue you to mine!”
“But what about your paper?” Ron exclaimed in pure anguish, to the surprise of everyone. He blushed, sinking in his seat. “What? It’s a good paper…”
“Maybe so, but I can’t keep it going and keep you two tethered to it.” The blonde explained to the boys, who both held their hearts in mock heartbroken grief. “Are you firing us? George, I think this bloke is firing us!” Fred exclaimed and George fell against the doorway in horror. “You backstabber! You’re going to pay for this you know! You’ll see! No one gets to fire George and Fred, no, no--”
They were stopped abruptly by Draco stepping forward and jamming something into their hands. They looked down, and gasped at the sight of his prize money, the bag of gold, laying in their palms. “What…”
“Take it,” Draco said, firmly. “I don’t want it.”
But the twins were already shaking their heads, and George attempted to push the money back at Draco. “You’re mental.” The blonde shook his head.
“No, that’s Harry. Listen, I don’t need it, okay? You know that. I practically shower in money at home. But you… You don’t have to take it for your family. I don’t know if you have a pride thing where you can’t take charity money from people but if you do, then you do. But take it for your business, then, because I know what you’ve been doing with every galleon I’ve paid you--you’ve sent it to your family. And I know that you have spent all your savings and had them taken from you by Ludo Bagman--”
“How did you--”
“I’ve seen you writing letters! I’m a Slytherin, sometimes we actually notice things. The point is,” He let go of the sack in George’s hands and clasped Fred’s on top of it. “You deserve this money. So take it, let me do something nice for your family at least once, and take it.
A long pause, then Fred said, “He is mental…” In an almost awed voice, and the two brother’s glanced at each other, then at the gold, and nodded firmly. They dropped the sack and hugged their now former boss and new friend, in unison saying a great, “Thank you.”
“But, don’t tell your mum where you got it. She’ll probably cry at the gesture but then kill me because she already denied it once and something tells me that woman wouldn’t approve of the joke shop.” The redheads shook their heads. “No, she wouldn’t.” Fred said, and George promised, “We won’t tell her.” with a firm nod.
Then, with a firm and respective nod at their friend, they picked the gold up, and hurried down the train, Fred shouting, “Lee!” while George exclaimed, “Angelina!”
When the train stopped at King’s Cross, the Quartet wished it could have lasted all summer, and they’d never have to let go of each other’s hands as they stepped out into the whirling smoke of the station, but alas, nothing lasts forever, and when the four walked forwards, hand in hand, they saw Mrs. Weasley, Mr. and Mrs. Granger, Mrs. Malfoy, and Mr. Dursley all waiting for them beyond the barrier.
Molly immediately sprung forward to hug Harry very tightly when she saw him and whispered in his ear, “I think Dumbledore will let you come to us later in the summer. Keep in touch, Harry.” The boy nodded as he pulled away, and waved Ron and Hermione off alongside Draco.
“See you, Harry.” Ron said, clapping him on the back before backing away.
“‘Bye, Harry!” said Hermione, and she hugged him close. Then she turned to Ron, smiling. “Goodbye, Ronald.” She said, hugging him as well, and as they hugged, she relaxed in his embrace, feeling comforted again for the first time since seeing Viktor’s body dead on the Quidditch Pitch, and Ron glanced over at Harry, who still held hands with Draco, and thought over the year. He thought of the way her face had glowed in the firelight the night before the Ball and how he’d realized right then she was a very pretty girl. He thought of how she’d held his hand in the stands whenever she got nervous over Harry and Draco, and the rush in his heart he got each time. He thought of how those two had managed to make the impossible possible this year, in so many ways, and how Dumbledore had encouraged the school to be as ambitious as they were.
Well, ‘teacher’s orders’, he would later defend himself with, when he pulled Hermione back towards him when she tried to back away and kissed her on the cheek.
Molly gasped, the twins whistled, and Ginny giggled, but Hermione was left stunned to silence as Ron smirked and was dragged away by his little sister, waving casually as Hermione glared, crossing her arms and scoffing, “Honestly Ron!” then turning and prancing off out of sight with her muggle parents on either side of her.
Draco and Harry turned to each other, and the former scowled. “I’m not kissing you.” He said and Harry laughed. “Of course not.” He said and hugged the boy against him, hard enough to satisfy a summer’s worth of hugs, while whispering in his blonde hair, “Write to me.” and Draco whispered back, “Okay.”
They pulled back, and Draco turned and hugged his mom around the waist, then waved and walked away, disappearing in the smoke of the trains surrounding them.
Harry sighed, then turned to Uncle Vernon, and followed him silently out the station, and found no point in worrying about the future. A part of him, all year, had known the worst was to come, and now that it hit, and he rode back across the London streets to Privet Drive, he found himself able to be content with what was still yet to come, because he knew when it did, like Dumbledore said, they’d all be united. There was nothing Voldemort could do to him with his friends beside him. In fact, he thought the harder task, harder than stopping the Darkest Wizard in history, would be getting through this summer without those friends.