Chapter One
Harry wasn’t sure how to feel when he went into the Great Hall again.
It was just as he remembered it, everything from the enchanted ceiling to the First-Feast-of-the-Year excitement. Harry jokingly wondered what would have to happen this time in order to miss the Sorting.
Not that he’d have any chances of witnessing another Sorting. But, still; this year it was supposed to be a particularly large group. Many muggle-borns hadn’t received their Hogwarts letter while the Ministry was in Voldemort’s pocket. So there would be a couple of meant-to-be second years who’d have to tag along with the First-Years. Hermione had spent the summer ranting about how unfair it was that those kids had their education jeopardized, and only placated by the reminder that the oncoming year, the first-years would all be eleven-year-olds and that nothing like that was meant to happen again.
Harry sat at the Gryffindor table, between Ron and Dean, Neville was still trapped in a conversation with Trelawney near the entrance to the Great Hall. Harry had avoided being sucked into that conversation with the luck that Neville obviously lacked in everyday life. Hermione, in front of him, wouldn’t stop fidgeting. She had been so involved in the restoration of Hogwarts that not doing anything the opening night was obviously testing her. It was starting to get really annoying. Ron had called her out on her nervousness twice already and somehow managed to retain all of his limbs, but Harry wasn’t willing to risk it.
When Professor Sprout walked into the Great Hall followed by the rowdy first-years, Harry could have kissed her on the nose, because Hermione took a deep breath and calmed down. The Sorting Hat’s song had been about ‘cheerful reunion’ and what not.
Harry didn’t know he could miss that old hat.
After that, the Sorting started and it was exciting from kids A-to-G; but when Hampton Theresa was called, Harry started to get a little impatient. He was aware that this was the last Sorting he’d attend, but couldn’t it go a little faster? Did the Sorting Hat really take that long for every child?
Thankfully, the ceremony ended after Wollocks Peter (that poor child) was sorted as a Hufflepuff. Harry was starting to get a little hungry and bored; although he tried not to show it. It was time for McGonagall’s speech, a little respect was due.
Headmistress McGonagall stood up from her chair to direct herself to the students, but in that moment all the lights in the Great Hall disappeared. Even the stars of the enchanted ceiling were gone and everything was left in absolute darkness for a second. Lots of gasps and confused noises filled the hall right before an eerie silence absorbed them. Right before the ability to move started feeling inexistent.
It felt like The Vision.
Suddenly, the lights came back, as if nothing had happened; but everyone was still stunned into rigidity. In front of the professors’ table there was a perfectly circular shadow. There was no object to cast it, but it was big, almost physically heavy and demanding of the Great Hall’s audience attention until it started reducing its size, leaving in its place a small group of young people. And just then, the wizards’ ability to function was restored.
The Great Hall was full of gasps right before it was filled with an odd mix of murmurs and shouts. Some of the older students stood up holding their wands, ready for a fight but cautious enough not to cast the first spell. Harry stood up with them with his hand in his pocket where his wand had been since getting out of the Hogwarts Express. A quick check confirmed that Ron and Hermione were also up and ready for the confrontation.
“We don’t mean any harm!” One of the intruders spoke in a squeaky voice through the chaos. There were five of them, all in muggle clothing and carrying backpacks with green straps. There were two taller males, visibly the oldest of the little group; a well-trimmed blonde and a black haired one. They were one step behind a pale shaggy-looking boy and a small dark skinned girl, neither of whom could be older than a fourth year. Right in the middle, seemingly protected by his peers from all flanks was a child in a brown jacket a couple of sizes too big to be his own. Harry thought he shouldn’t have been old enough to be a first year.
“We don’t mean any harm.” This time it was the blonde one who said it in a confident commanding voice that projected much better through the Great Hall and finally silenced the voices of panicked and nervous students.
“What do you mean, then? Intruding in Hogwarts like you did after everything that’s happened.”
McGonagall’s voice resounded in the Hall, familiar yet cold with the stinging implication. “After everything that’s happened” could mean either Death Eaters or something related to The Vision, and neither were desirable possibilities.
The five intruders had half-shifted in a rigid but fluid motion to address McGonagall. The eerie synchronization gave Harry the impression of a rehearsed movement, vaguely reminding him of the Durmstrang and Beauxbatons students who always seemed to move with a different rhythm than anything else inside the castle (or inside Great Britain).
“We are here in an exchange of sorts” The blonde guy was speaking again with a strange intonation “We’re here to explain about our world and to learn about yours. An educational experience for everyone.”
“Are you muggles?” Unsurprisingly, the uncertain voice came from a girl in the half-empty Slytherin table. Probably a second or third year, Harry wouldn’t know.
“We come from the gods if that’s what you’re asking.” The other tall guy answered, speaking for the first time.
It occurred to Harry that the strange undertone of the blonde’s voice was nothing more sinister than an American accent. Could it be that all this “god” craziness came from America? He knew next-to nothing about what the American magical community was like, but if it was anything like the muggle one, it seemed plausible.
“What Miss Lestrade here was trying to ask is if you are wizards, if you possess magic.” McGonagall rephrased impassively.
The dark-skinned girl stood up a little taller to reply “As far as we know, we don’t use magic in the sense you do. But, in a way, we possess magic.”
“It’s just different.” Concluded the pale boy; now in front of her thanks to the half-shift.
Harry felt a tug in the sleeve of his tunic. It was Ron who was trying to make him understand something through some significantly incredulous looks. He didn’t need to think too hard to know what his friend was trying to convey; the girl’s vague answer was a very blatant way of omitting information. This “educational experience” was for the intruders. They were scouts.
“And I suppose that you are planning a prolonged stay for this… educational experience of yours.” McGonagall continued in a disapproving tone, obviously already onto them.
“That’s what we were sent for.” The blonde replied, apparently uncaring of the Headmistress’ judgement or the tense silence of the Hall.
“Unfortunately, Hogwarts does not usually receive visitors, much less long-term ones. I’m afraid we do not have the accommodations to house you. You’ll have to go back where you came from.” Of course, it was a horrible lie. McGonagall had to know it, but it was the last attempt to settle things nicely in front of the students and to not engage in a magical confrontation.
Then, the tall guy with black hair just… stopped. Harry had no idea how it was possible to be so active while standing and still go unnoticed (now that he was looking for it, the others were also fidgeting in one way or another). He hadn’t even noticed the guy had been fidgeting until he stood completely unmoving.
“Don’t worry. We can figure something out.” The black hair guy said ominously and Harry gripped his wand harder. There was nothing else to do.
“In that case,” McGonagall looked resigned, “I will have to escort you out of the Great Hall. We need to talk, in private.”
The next seconds were heavy, and he would swear he could hear muffled sobbing and soft shushes somewhere down the Gryffindor table. Whether they agreed or declined, nothing was certain; but if they denied the Headmistress, things would escalate quickly and there would be more wands drawn.
The four teenagers looked at each other with matching expressions of distrust. The kid, a couple of heads below them, was fidgeting with something on the edge of his big jacket’s sleeve with faint nervousness just looking up once.
Finally, they seemed to reach a consensus, because the girl with the curly hair nodded seriously at McGonagall and said “Let’s do it.”
It was honestly, a surprise. Harry would have thought that the final word would come from the tall blonde, who was visibly older and had done most of the talking. But no one contradicted the girl or appeared doubtful. Maybe she really was the leader and the tall guy was just a spokes-man.
“Pomona, would you direct the feast for me?” The Headmistress asked more quietly towards the teacher’s table. “Thanks, dear. Flitwick, please come with us.”
The intruders were starting to look uncomfortable, the fidgets and tics more prevalent now. Harry thought McGonagall would direct them towards the small doors on the sides of the Great Hall where he was taken in his fourth year to meet the other participants of the Triwizard Tournament, but she led them across the Great Hall, guided them through the big doors and closed behind them.
The chaos barely waited until the hinges closed before it erupted inside the Hall. Food appeared on the tables and everyone shouted and speculated loudly about what was going to happen next. Ron and Harry sat down reluctantly in silence and after a couple more seconds, Hermione did too.
“It’s happening again.” Harry said with a defeated sigh and continued with growing resentment. “It wasn’t over, it’s Voldemort all over again.”
“I don’t think this is related to Voldemort” Replied Ron before stuffing himself with a salty pastry.
“If he’d had access to that kind of power, we wouldn’t have been able to hold on here during the battle.” Hermione said. “I mean… apparating in Hogwarts. It’s not… it shouldn’t be possible.”
“Wah ‘at ef’n ahbaratin’?” asked his redhead friend, his mouth still processing the treat.
“It was probably dark magic.”
“If it was just dark magic, Voldemort could’ve done it too.” Hermione countered, and after a moment of consideration, she added “I want to know why they are using children for this.”
“We have been in this fight for a few years, Hermione. They aren’t younger than we were.” Harry retorted.
“I’m sorry. Did you miss the eight year old boy that was with them, Harry? Or was it a figment of my imagination?” Hermione spat angrily.
Ron gulped loudly “Maybe they thought we wouldn’t fight a kid” he said
“Well we wouldn’t…! right? I mean, I don’t think McGonagall could-” Hermione looked at Harry and Ron, and spluttered “Come on, he can’t even hold a bloody wand! He can’t be dangerous.” She didn’t sound very convinced either, but Harry really hoped she was right. “Whatever.” Hermione looked nervously towards the closed doors of the Great Hall before starting to fill her own plate. “We won’t know anything else until McGonagall comes back.”
Neither of them said anything, but there was a heavy silence filled with the implication if she comes back at all. Harry supposed that she had been trying to get the intruders as far as possible from the castle in case of hostilities. McGonagall had asked Flitwick to go as backup but had left the new DADA professor, Bill Weasley (hadn’t that one been a nice surprise), with the students.
The feast went on, louder than ever even with fewer students around. There was a tenseness that wouldn’t leave the air and it was visibly thicker at the teacher’s table where it grew grimmer by the minute. The feast was almost done when the Great Hall’s doors opened once again, McGonagall leading Flitcwick and the five intruders to the front of the teacher’s table, apparently to make an announcement. Silence fell heavy in the room.
“After a… mildly enlightening conversation, these five young people and I have reached an agreement.” McGonagall’s voice resounded through every creek of the Hall, as if daring anyone to make a sound. “As of this moment, these are Hogwarts’ guests” displeased and complaining noises started coming from every table “Our guests,” she spoke louder “will be able to walk the castle grounds with some particular exceptions: they are not to be allowed inside the library without the supervision of a teacher, they are not to interrupt lessons or to witness them without my personal and explicit invitation and they are absolutely not allowed inside the common rooms or dormitories. Besides that, they are allowed to wander the castle grounds like the rest of the students. The Forbidden Forest is obviously forbidden and there is still a curfew to abide by. Now all of you; follow your prefects and get some sleep. You have classes tomorrow.”
After the dismissal, the silence that the guidelines had gathered broke once again.
As McGonagall turned around to talk to the rest of the teachers and the prefects tried to keep the younger students calm, Harry looked at the five guests and he could’ve sworn he physically felt the impending doom.