Forever Entwined : Chapter 2
It was the night of August thirty-first. The new term began the next morning, but while Ron and Hermione slept upstairs, Harry wandered about downstairs unable to sleep. Since his conversation with Hermione at the end of June he'd split his time more evenly between taking care of Teddy, fixing up Grimmauld Place and spending more time with the Weaselys. Andromeda was in better spirits; it seemed the visits of her once estranged family was helping greatly. Harry had, on occasion, even ran into Draco when he visited. They didn't speak to each other, though. The only moment he heard his voice was when he spoke to Teddy.
His birthday had been as pleasant as it could have been. The wounds were still too fresh from the loss of Fred. The Weasely household was not like it had been, but they'd done their best to put on their happiest faces and wish him a happy eighteenth birthday.
Ginny and he were spending more time together, and the comfort was beginning to trickle back into their dynamic. Ginny seemed happier now they had begun to date again, and he was relieved he was no longer an additional burden thrown on top of her grief for her brother.
Harry paced in front of the fireplace, full of nervous energy. Ron and Hermione had shown up at his door that morning all ready to go with their shrunken trunks in their pockets. Hermione's smile had been wide, and her enthusiasm had been contagious enough the boys caught on, temporarily forgetting the coursework and assignments they would be taking on.
Kreacher prepared dinner, ignoring Hermione's request he dine with them. Ron and Harry played Exploding Snap while Hermione read over the texts that were sure to be covered months into the term. It had felt good to wonder aloud with Ron about how school would be and watch Hermione study so devotedly. It felt normal.
"Master should be sleeping." Harry jumped at the sound of Kreacher’s voice.
"Oh, I can't sleep," Harry explained. The elderly elf looked a lot better wearing the clean pillow case Harry had left around for him to change into. Harry could see the chain of his treasured locket disappearing into the makeshift collar.
"Milk." Kreacher conjured a glass and handed it to Harry imperiously, making it clear it was not a suggestion.
Harry took the warm glass, tracing his finger along the rim before deciding not to argue and drank it in one gulp under the house elf’s watchful eye. Since the Battle for Hogwarts, Kreacher seemed to have become more and more protective of Harry while still retaining the attitude that had gone from blatantly disrespectful to cheeky. He'd even given him ladybirds for his birthday, which was definitely a step up from the maggots the previous Christmas.
"Off to bed," Kreacher ordered, taking back the empty glass.
"Fine, fine," Harry agreed, backing up to leave the living room. "Weren't you supposed to be at Hogwarts already?"
"I will go when Master is there." the elf declared, lifting his chin.
"Goodnight, Kreacher." Harry waved a little.
"Night, Master," the elf said, and then he was gone.
Harry surprised himself with a wide yawn and tried to clear his suddenly blurry eyes; it seemed the milk really had begun to work its magic. He walked up the steps, deftly avoiding the squeakier ones so he wouldn’t disturb his friends. Once his head hit his pillow, the call of sleep overwhelmed his body. His last thought was if Kreacher had added a little something to his drink.
~ * ~ * ~ *~
"Harry."
He opened his eyes, but his vision was blurry. He felt someone place his missing glasses into his hand. When the world was clear again, he could see Hermione and Ron had risen from their seats.
"We're here." Ginny smiled, pulling away from where she was leaning over him. He must have fallen asleep as soon as they left the station because he could not remember anything past getting settled in.
Ron had managed to get a private car for them, and Hermione had blacked out the glass to thwart those who'd come to gawk at the Boy Who Lived.
"Oh, thanks." He stretched, rolling his shoulders back to work out some of the kinks and followed them out of the car. He had to shoulder past the staring first years, who were seeing him for the very first time, their eyes wide with curiosity.
"You think McGonagall would let me skip the Sorting feast?" He moved closer to the wall opposite the entrances of each car.
Ron shrugged. "I don't know, mate. Why?"
"So I can avoid this." He jerked his head at a group of girls who were wobbling back and forth, trying to look past Ron and catch sight of Harry.
He smiled gratefully at Ginny, whose glare caused them to turn around and pretend to talk to one another.
"I don't think so, Harry. She'll probably say that you’re putting off the inevitable," Hermione predicted, balancing her school bag while she tucked the book she'd read on the train inside. "You'll have to face them in the morning for breakfast anyway, and every meal afterward."
"Maybe Kreacher can bring my food to our room," Harry suggested. Or he could always eat in the kitchens with the elves.
"Oi! Could he do that for me too?" Ron piped in with excitement.
"I'll ask him, but I'm sure he won’t mind," Harry assured his friend.
"I always did like that elf," Ron murmured, rubbing his hands as he imaged the delicious meals he could enjoy from the privacy of their dorm without having to wake up early.
"So now you like him?" Ginny teased her brother.
"He's grown on me. He takes care of Harry, and if he wants to bring us food who are we to deny him?" he asked his sister, completely serious.
"Kreacher is employed by the school during the term, and you will not be making him work extra. Especially not to satisfy your gluttony, Ronald." He dodged behind Harry to avoid Hermione's glare.
"Besides, you’re not going to eat in your rooms alone or with Ron. You'll eat with all of us," Ginny gently instructed Harry, taking his hand in hers.
"All right." Harry gave her a small smile and her hand a small squeeze then pulled away to better manoeuvre through the crowd exiting the train.
"Harry!" He barely got the warning before he was swept up in a hug. The wiry beard his face was currently being pushed into and the sensation of his feet leaving the ground made the identity of his mysterious hugger obvious.
"You can let me down now, Hagrid," Harry requested after returning the embrace as well as he could considering the half giant’s size.
"It's good to see you! I thought you weren't coming. I asked Professor--I mean, Headmistress--McGonagall, but she said you weren't." Harry ignored the great amount of looks their reunion had gathered.
"Hermione convinced me." He threw a look at his friend.
"I have to go see to the first years, but you’ll come by for tea?" Harry nodded and the half-giant gave him one last pat on the shoulder that jerked him forward a bit with its force.
They joined the older students at the thestral drawn carriages, trying to get an unoccupied one. Harry immediately spotted Draco, who was accompanied by a small group of Slytherins--Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, a much thinner Gregory Goyle and a small blonde girl he didn't recognise--shuffle into a carriage. It seemed Andromeda and Narcissa had managed to convince the blond to attend; he'd caught snippets of a fire-call conversation between the two women one afternoon he visited.
It seemed Draco wasn't immune to the well meaning females in his life, either.
He could see Luna stroking the neck of a thestral as his group approached a carriage. She looked good. Her radish earrings and bottle cap necklace were all in place as was her dreamy smile. He liked that. She was always a constant. Who knew what emotions flowed under her placid exterior? On the outside, she was always the same whimsical girl, whether she was off on some tangent about creatures only she could see in class or comforting an old man while being imprisoned in a dungeon.
"Luna!" he called to her as they drew near.
"Hello, Harry"
He motioned for his friends to go ahead and board the carriage after they all greeted the Ravenclaw.
Her silvery eyes seemed to look too deeply into him, seeing past the small smile he gave her. He joined her in giving the thestral a pat while he waited for her to comment. He preferred to be alone for any perceptive revelation she may have of him.
"We'll be Seventh Years together. I think that's nice." His smile grew bigger. It seemed she wasn't going to press or poke like most of his friends had.
"I almost feel like I'm too old to be here," Harry offered, not understanding why he confided that to her or if he really meant he felt out of place with all the innocent first years. Luna nodded, gently repositioning his fingers until he was lightly scratching the horse’s neck instead of just patting it.
"There is still much you have to do here," Luna offered vaguely. "They're starting to leave." She pointed to where the first lines of carriages were beginning to move. He followed her into the carriage, taking the seat they saved for him between Ginny and the window.
His girlfriend slipped her hand into his just as he was resting his head on the window. Watching the procession of black winged horses moving toward the school, he thought of the time when he and Luna had been one of the very few to see the thestrals. He wondered how many more students could see them now.
~ * ~ * ~ *~
The eyes on him continued to grow with every step he took into the Great Hall, more and more faces turning to the entrance to see the new arrivals. Most of them had already seen him on the platform or on the train, but they took this moment to stare at him to their hearts’ content. His eyes closed with horror when the clapping began. He hurried to the Gryffindor table and grabbed a seat on the corner of the bench facing the Slytherin table next to an already seated Neville. The rest of the group settled across from them.
"It's good to see you." Neville leaned in to be heard above the din of the crowd.
"You too." It was. They'd exchanged gifts on their shared birthday and corresponded beforehand, but it was good to see him in the flesh. He looked confident, having finally grown into himself. Harry almost asked him how long he thought it would take him to attain the same accomplishment.
"They're clapping for you." Neville motioned with his head.
"For us," Harry corrected. "I wish they would stop." Neville smiled sympathetically, patting him on his shoulder.
A quick glance showed that even the eighth year Slytherins were clapping, although the speed of the striking hands told Harry there was little sound actually being created. Malfoy was not clapping, but inclined his head at him slightly when their eyes met. Strangely, it made him feel better that Malfoy was not joining in with the rest of the school.
The celebrations following the war had always been strange for him. Of course he was happy it was all over, proud of his friends and colleagues who had fought beside him, but, ultimately, he wished there had never been a need for any of them to prove themselves. What made it worse was that people saw him as the figurehead for their victory, and he could say with certainty he did not look forward to spending the rest of his life being stared at with awe.
"I know we are all relieved that we can look forward to a world free of war and that we owe all our heroes a great many thanks, but please remember this is an institution of learning," Headmistress McGonagall announced from the front of the hall. Mercifully, the clapping stopped the moment she began to speak and everyone centred their attention on her.
"We are here to prepare you to enter this free world. Make no mistake that your role as a student takes precedence over any house alliance." Her stern gaze began in one side of the room and spanned across it as if she were trying to communicate with each and every one of them. She must have been satisfied with what she saw because she smiled before announcing, "Now, let's welcome our first years."
They filed in behind Professor Flitwick, and, even behind the diminutive professor, they still looked so small to Harry. Their expressions ranged from excitement to nervousness, turning into amazement at their first sight of the enchanted ceiling and the floating candles. Harry smiled a bit. Although it may be too late to wipe the darkness that had touched them for living through a war, they prevented the future generations from suffering the same. Perhaps that was reason enough to celebrate.
When the Sorting Hat was brought out, it seemed the same as always. It still looked worn from its many years of service, but there was no sight of damage from its burning at the Battle for Hogwarts. It was a relief that it had survived its attempted destruction at the hands of Voldemort. A small victory.
The further the Sorting Hat got into its song, Harry began to have a feeling of déjà vu; he knew he'd heard those words before.
"Does that sound familiar?" he asked aloud to no one in particular.
It was no surprise Hermione was the one who answered him. "It's the same song he sang at the beginning of fifth year."
"I thought he came up with a new one every year?" Ron asked.
"He probably thought this one was worth repeating," his girlfriend replied, nudging him to listen.
Harry looked down at the table, paying close attention to the last verses:
But this year I'll go further,
Listen closely to my song:
Though condemned I am to split you
Still I worry that it's wrong,
Though I must fulfil my duty
And must quarter every year
Still I wonder whether sorting
May not bring the end I fear.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you....
Let the Sorting now begin.
His first instinct was to look at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was concentrating deeply on the table in front of him. It had been a warning they had failed to yield. A year later Malfoy was neck deep plotting for Voldemort, they had lost Dumbledore and Hogwarts as they knew it had changed.
Flitwick began reading off his list, and one by one the children were sorted and joined their respective tables. When the first Slytherin was chosen, there was a smattering of clapping from the rest of the tables. McGonagall started to clap quite deliberately until a more enthusiastic welcome was heard from the rest of the school. Neville joined in and Harry followed, ignoring Ron's incredulous look and even Hermione's kind smile.
He found himself remembering an afternoon with Andromeda. During one of the hotter days of summer, she'd stood up during lunch and announced she had had enough of the heat and was going to turn on the air conditioning. Having been married to a Muggleborn, there were a lot of Muggle items in her home, and Harry had not been surprised she owned one. What took him by surprise was what she said afterwards.
"I guess those years of living in the dungeons left me with a poor tolerance to heat." She’d shrugged and gone off into the hallway for the thermostat.
He'd forgotten she was a former Slytherin. He must have never payed it any attention, but she was a Black and all Blacks except for Sirius were known for going into Slytherin. He thought of her gentle way of taking care of her grandson, the way she used all at her disposal to make his life the best it could be. Of Slughorn's actions of bringing help instead of running away during the Battle for Hogwarts and Snape's bravery as a double agent for so long.
How could house affiliation tell you everything about a person?
"Harry?" Ginny called to him breaking his musing.
"Yeah?" The scent of hot food filled his nostrils, and he found that his meal had appeared before him. The Sorting must have finished while he wasn't paying attention.
"You should eat before Ron reaches over and gobbles down your plate, too." Harry looked to Ron, who was enthusiastically wolfing down his meal, stopping only to refresh himself with drink.
"Wot?" the redhead asked, presenting them a clear view of his partly masticated food.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ron." Hermione grimaced at her boyfriend’s messiness.
"You should eat. Professor McGonagall wants all the eighth years to meet in her office after the feast," Neville informed him.
"Okay." Just what else had he missed? "Did she say what about?"
"No," Neville shrugged apologetically.
Harry nodded and thanked him, starting in on his dinner. His eyes narrowed when he saw one particular beverage near his plate. A quick inspection of his house mates’ plates confirmed he was the only one with this addition.
Warm milk.
He pushed it aside a little and was surprised to see it creep back. He pushed it again, closer to Neville, but an invisible pressure pushed back against him until the liquid was sloshing too close to the rim of the goblet. To avoid spilling it on Neville's plate, he gradually stopped resisting.
"I'll drink it before going to bed," he muttered into his plate, content to see the glass vanish.
"Were you talking to your food, mate?" Ron asked. His friend’s forkful of chicken halted by his mouth.
"No," Harry denied.
"O-Kay." Ron stuffed the food in his mouth, watching him oddly.
Harry laughed. "I was talking to Kreacher. He was trying to make me drink milk."
"At least I know you’re being taken care of in your house since I can't see for myself," Ginny commented without heat from across the table.
Harry's lingering smile faded and he could only nod. Once she turned her attention back to eating, he glanced at the head table, taking in the missing professors and their unfamiliar replacements.
What could McGonagall have to talk to them about?
~ * ~ * ~ *~
Harry's group was joined by Parvati, Seamus and Dean, and when they arrived outside the headmistress's office, the Slytherins were already there. Malfoy was a little apart from the group, leaning against the wall. The stance did not resemble a lounge, but rather a deliberate move to cover his back.
Harry had no idea why that reasoning occurred to him, but he was almost positive that was the case. Neither group said anything to each other, but waited on their opposite sides of the wall, eying each other.
"I apologise for the wait." McGonagall appeared around the bend, swiftly moving to the statue of the gargoyle and whispering, "Jelly slug".
As silly as it would have been to explain, it pleased Harry that the stern woman would use such a frivolous password as Albus would have. Jelly slugs were probably a lot better than whatever passwords were used while Snape was headmaster anyway.
Harry went first, followed by his friends. Ron was turning his neck back, watching the Slytherins like they would attack him. As if they would be foolish enough to try anything in front of the headmistress herself.
The group stepped into the office off the revolving staircase. It looked the same except for some very meaningful additions and subtractions. The sword of Gryffindor was back next to the Sorting Hat, but Fawkes's golden perch was gone and Dumbledore's portrait hung behind the desk.
Dumbledore was awake, and he smiled widely when he saw them, waving at Harry. He waved back. How many times had he wished he could have seen the man during the year before?
The Gryffindors returned his waves. Harry noted that Draco didn't; the Slytherin looked anywhere but the portrait directly in front of him.
The Slytherins took their seats wordlessly and the rest of them followed. There were eleven chairs assembled in two small rows. It was when Harry noticed each chair provided was occupied that he thought to ask, "Is this everyone?"
Heads turned and came to the same conclusion Harry had.
McGonagall came to stand in front of her desk, spine ramrod straight, hands together.
"Yes, unfortunately, this is the entirety of the eighth form. It's actually why I've called you all to my office. I ask that you listen to all I have to say before you speak any concerns or complaints."
She repeated the motion of the room-including stare she'd done in the Great Hall, though it was more effective in the smaller quarters with such few recipients.
"We did not have any responses from the Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs--“
"Probably because the bookworms already did everything," Ron whispered to Harry before snapping his mouth shut at McGonagall’s look.
"Indeed, Mr Weasley, maybe they were able to complete their studies in a manner they were satisfied with. Regardless of the reason, your two houses are the only ones that did.
"During the preparations for your last school year, we discovered that the castle itself offered an option. A section of the castle seems to have modified itself for your stay. You will be making use of these rooms as your dormitories."
Harry could hear Ron take a deep breath, possibly to rant about the injustice of it all. Hermione's hard nudge to his side deflated his attempted rebellion. The reaction from the rest of the students was much the same. Horrified looks were exchanged even between the two houses while Dumbledore smiled encouragingly at Harry from his frame.
For his part, Harry was taken back. This was not going to be like the years before. One of his major reasons for agreeing to come back was enjoying what he'd missed during the war. He certainly had never bunked with the Slytherins.
"You will attend your main classes together, though the points you earn or lose will affect your respective houses. I expect you to comport yourself with dignity, and provide a good example for the younger years."
Her thin lips pursed together. "Any questions?"
A couple of people started talking at once. "Raise your hands," she ordered.
Hermione was the first to raise hers; she had plenty of practice doing so.
"Headmistress, how exactly is the curriculum going to be carried out? I'm sure we all have different timetables?"
"You will have Transfiguration, Potions, and Muggle Studies together. You will be integrated into classes with the seventh years for the remaining courses."
"Yes, Miss Parkinson?" Harry turned to look at the girl. People had been sure to tell him she had taken up a cry to turn him over to Voldemort.
"I didn't sign up for Muggle Studies." She wrinkled her pug nose in distaste.
"You didn't have too. It is now a requirement," McGonagall replied, daring her to complain.
Ron's hand shot up in the air, and he began to speak when the headmistress nodded. "So, we are going to live together? In the same room?"
"Well, no, Mr Weasley." Ron's face was filled with relief until she continued. "Obviously, the ladies and gentlemen will have their own dormitories and share a common room."
"Yes, Miss Patil?"
"Will there be a bed for Lavender? I'm sure she's coming." Her expression was hopeful.
"There are accommodations being made for her," the headmistress replied with a softening of her features.
"Any more questions?"
Zabini looked as if he had a few choice words, but made no movement to speak. Goyle seemed more interested in whatever was in his pockets than to what was being said. Malfoy glanced briefly toward Harry but said nothing, returning his gaze to his hands.
"Okay, then I will lead you to your new dormitories now."
They stood up to follow her, moving less enthusiastically than before.
"Draco." They all stopped when Dumbledore called out to the blond. "A word please." The former headmaster's smile was kind and gentle.
McGonagall ushered them all out with two thin hands firm against their shoulder blades. Harry's last sight was of Draco standing before the portrait, his loose blond hair covering his lowered face.
They descended the staircase and got in line behind McGonagall. "Come along, please."
"Don't we have to wait for Malfoy?" Harry, first in line, asked quietly.
"He'll know where to go, Mr. Potter," she replied, taking them forward out of the tower. They used the stairways to reach the seventh floor and walked down a long corridor. It was the sight of the Barnabas and his graceless troll ballet that brought Harry to a halt.
No wonder they didn't need to wait for Malfoy.
Their new dormitories were in the Room of Requirement.
Chapter Three
His birthday had been as pleasant as it could have been. The wounds were still too fresh from the loss of Fred. The Weasely household was not like it had been, but they'd done their best to put on their happiest faces and wish him a happy eighteenth birthday.
Ginny and he were spending more time together, and the comfort was beginning to trickle back into their dynamic. Ginny seemed happier now they had begun to date again, and he was relieved he was no longer an additional burden thrown on top of her grief for her brother.
Harry paced in front of the fireplace, full of nervous energy. Ron and Hermione had shown up at his door that morning all ready to go with their shrunken trunks in their pockets. Hermione's smile had been wide, and her enthusiasm had been contagious enough the boys caught on, temporarily forgetting the coursework and assignments they would be taking on.
Kreacher prepared dinner, ignoring Hermione's request he dine with them. Ron and Harry played Exploding Snap while Hermione read over the texts that were sure to be covered months into the term. It had felt good to wonder aloud with Ron about how school would be and watch Hermione study so devotedly. It felt normal.
"Master should be sleeping." Harry jumped at the sound of Kreacher’s voice.
"Oh, I can't sleep," Harry explained. The elderly elf looked a lot better wearing the clean pillow case Harry had left around for him to change into. Harry could see the chain of his treasured locket disappearing into the makeshift collar.
"Milk." Kreacher conjured a glass and handed it to Harry imperiously, making it clear it was not a suggestion.
Harry took the warm glass, tracing his finger along the rim before deciding not to argue and drank it in one gulp under the house elf’s watchful eye. Since the Battle for Hogwarts, Kreacher seemed to have become more and more protective of Harry while still retaining the attitude that had gone from blatantly disrespectful to cheeky. He'd even given him ladybirds for his birthday, which was definitely a step up from the maggots the previous Christmas.
"Off to bed," Kreacher ordered, taking back the empty glass.
"Fine, fine," Harry agreed, backing up to leave the living room. "Weren't you supposed to be at Hogwarts already?"
"I will go when Master is there." the elf declared, lifting his chin.
"Goodnight, Kreacher." Harry waved a little.
"Night, Master," the elf said, and then he was gone.
Harry surprised himself with a wide yawn and tried to clear his suddenly blurry eyes; it seemed the milk really had begun to work its magic. He walked up the steps, deftly avoiding the squeakier ones so he wouldn’t disturb his friends. Once his head hit his pillow, the call of sleep overwhelmed his body. His last thought was if Kreacher had added a little something to his drink.
~ * ~ * ~ *~
"Harry."
He opened his eyes, but his vision was blurry. He felt someone place his missing glasses into his hand. When the world was clear again, he could see Hermione and Ron had risen from their seats.
"We're here." Ginny smiled, pulling away from where she was leaning over him. He must have fallen asleep as soon as they left the station because he could not remember anything past getting settled in.
Ron had managed to get a private car for them, and Hermione had blacked out the glass to thwart those who'd come to gawk at the Boy Who Lived.
"Oh, thanks." He stretched, rolling his shoulders back to work out some of the kinks and followed them out of the car. He had to shoulder past the staring first years, who were seeing him for the very first time, their eyes wide with curiosity.
"You think McGonagall would let me skip the Sorting feast?" He moved closer to the wall opposite the entrances of each car.
Ron shrugged. "I don't know, mate. Why?"
"So I can avoid this." He jerked his head at a group of girls who were wobbling back and forth, trying to look past Ron and catch sight of Harry.
He smiled gratefully at Ginny, whose glare caused them to turn around and pretend to talk to one another.
"I don't think so, Harry. She'll probably say that you’re putting off the inevitable," Hermione predicted, balancing her school bag while she tucked the book she'd read on the train inside. "You'll have to face them in the morning for breakfast anyway, and every meal afterward."
"Maybe Kreacher can bring my food to our room," Harry suggested. Or he could always eat in the kitchens with the elves.
"Oi! Could he do that for me too?" Ron piped in with excitement.
"I'll ask him, but I'm sure he won’t mind," Harry assured his friend.
"I always did like that elf," Ron murmured, rubbing his hands as he imaged the delicious meals he could enjoy from the privacy of their dorm without having to wake up early.
"So now you like him?" Ginny teased her brother.
"He's grown on me. He takes care of Harry, and if he wants to bring us food who are we to deny him?" he asked his sister, completely serious.
"Kreacher is employed by the school during the term, and you will not be making him work extra. Especially not to satisfy your gluttony, Ronald." He dodged behind Harry to avoid Hermione's glare.
"Besides, you’re not going to eat in your rooms alone or with Ron. You'll eat with all of us," Ginny gently instructed Harry, taking his hand in hers.
"All right." Harry gave her a small smile and her hand a small squeeze then pulled away to better manoeuvre through the crowd exiting the train.
"Harry!" He barely got the warning before he was swept up in a hug. The wiry beard his face was currently being pushed into and the sensation of his feet leaving the ground made the identity of his mysterious hugger obvious.
"You can let me down now, Hagrid," Harry requested after returning the embrace as well as he could considering the half giant’s size.
"It's good to see you! I thought you weren't coming. I asked Professor--I mean, Headmistress--McGonagall, but she said you weren't." Harry ignored the great amount of looks their reunion had gathered.
"Hermione convinced me." He threw a look at his friend.
"I have to go see to the first years, but you’ll come by for tea?" Harry nodded and the half-giant gave him one last pat on the shoulder that jerked him forward a bit with its force.
They joined the older students at the thestral drawn carriages, trying to get an unoccupied one. Harry immediately spotted Draco, who was accompanied by a small group of Slytherins--Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, a much thinner Gregory Goyle and a small blonde girl he didn't recognise--shuffle into a carriage. It seemed Andromeda and Narcissa had managed to convince the blond to attend; he'd caught snippets of a fire-call conversation between the two women one afternoon he visited.
It seemed Draco wasn't immune to the well meaning females in his life, either.
He could see Luna stroking the neck of a thestral as his group approached a carriage. She looked good. Her radish earrings and bottle cap necklace were all in place as was her dreamy smile. He liked that. She was always a constant. Who knew what emotions flowed under her placid exterior? On the outside, she was always the same whimsical girl, whether she was off on some tangent about creatures only she could see in class or comforting an old man while being imprisoned in a dungeon.
"Luna!" he called to her as they drew near.
"Hello, Harry"
He motioned for his friends to go ahead and board the carriage after they all greeted the Ravenclaw.
Her silvery eyes seemed to look too deeply into him, seeing past the small smile he gave her. He joined her in giving the thestral a pat while he waited for her to comment. He preferred to be alone for any perceptive revelation she may have of him.
"We'll be Seventh Years together. I think that's nice." His smile grew bigger. It seemed she wasn't going to press or poke like most of his friends had.
"I almost feel like I'm too old to be here," Harry offered, not understanding why he confided that to her or if he really meant he felt out of place with all the innocent first years. Luna nodded, gently repositioning his fingers until he was lightly scratching the horse’s neck instead of just patting it.
"There is still much you have to do here," Luna offered vaguely. "They're starting to leave." She pointed to where the first lines of carriages were beginning to move. He followed her into the carriage, taking the seat they saved for him between Ginny and the window.
His girlfriend slipped her hand into his just as he was resting his head on the window. Watching the procession of black winged horses moving toward the school, he thought of the time when he and Luna had been one of the very few to see the thestrals. He wondered how many more students could see them now.
~ * ~ * ~ *~
The eyes on him continued to grow with every step he took into the Great Hall, more and more faces turning to the entrance to see the new arrivals. Most of them had already seen him on the platform or on the train, but they took this moment to stare at him to their hearts’ content. His eyes closed with horror when the clapping began. He hurried to the Gryffindor table and grabbed a seat on the corner of the bench facing the Slytherin table next to an already seated Neville. The rest of the group settled across from them.
"It's good to see you." Neville leaned in to be heard above the din of the crowd.
"You too." It was. They'd exchanged gifts on their shared birthday and corresponded beforehand, but it was good to see him in the flesh. He looked confident, having finally grown into himself. Harry almost asked him how long he thought it would take him to attain the same accomplishment.
"They're clapping for you." Neville motioned with his head.
"For us," Harry corrected. "I wish they would stop." Neville smiled sympathetically, patting him on his shoulder.
A quick glance showed that even the eighth year Slytherins were clapping, although the speed of the striking hands told Harry there was little sound actually being created. Malfoy was not clapping, but inclined his head at him slightly when their eyes met. Strangely, it made him feel better that Malfoy was not joining in with the rest of the school.
The celebrations following the war had always been strange for him. Of course he was happy it was all over, proud of his friends and colleagues who had fought beside him, but, ultimately, he wished there had never been a need for any of them to prove themselves. What made it worse was that people saw him as the figurehead for their victory, and he could say with certainty he did not look forward to spending the rest of his life being stared at with awe.
"I know we are all relieved that we can look forward to a world free of war and that we owe all our heroes a great many thanks, but please remember this is an institution of learning," Headmistress McGonagall announced from the front of the hall. Mercifully, the clapping stopped the moment she began to speak and everyone centred their attention on her.
"We are here to prepare you to enter this free world. Make no mistake that your role as a student takes precedence over any house alliance." Her stern gaze began in one side of the room and spanned across it as if she were trying to communicate with each and every one of them. She must have been satisfied with what she saw because she smiled before announcing, "Now, let's welcome our first years."
They filed in behind Professor Flitwick, and, even behind the diminutive professor, they still looked so small to Harry. Their expressions ranged from excitement to nervousness, turning into amazement at their first sight of the enchanted ceiling and the floating candles. Harry smiled a bit. Although it may be too late to wipe the darkness that had touched them for living through a war, they prevented the future generations from suffering the same. Perhaps that was reason enough to celebrate.
When the Sorting Hat was brought out, it seemed the same as always. It still looked worn from its many years of service, but there was no sight of damage from its burning at the Battle for Hogwarts. It was a relief that it had survived its attempted destruction at the hands of Voldemort. A small victory.
The further the Sorting Hat got into its song, Harry began to have a feeling of déjà vu; he knew he'd heard those words before.
"Does that sound familiar?" he asked aloud to no one in particular.
It was no surprise Hermione was the one who answered him. "It's the same song he sang at the beginning of fifth year."
"I thought he came up with a new one every year?" Ron asked.
"He probably thought this one was worth repeating," his girlfriend replied, nudging him to listen.
Harry looked down at the table, paying close attention to the last verses:
But this year I'll go further,
Listen closely to my song:
Though condemned I am to split you
Still I worry that it's wrong,
Though I must fulfil my duty
And must quarter every year
Still I wonder whether sorting
May not bring the end I fear.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you....
Let the Sorting now begin.
His first instinct was to look at the Slytherin table. Malfoy was concentrating deeply on the table in front of him. It had been a warning they had failed to yield. A year later Malfoy was neck deep plotting for Voldemort, they had lost Dumbledore and Hogwarts as they knew it had changed.
Flitwick began reading off his list, and one by one the children were sorted and joined their respective tables. When the first Slytherin was chosen, there was a smattering of clapping from the rest of the tables. McGonagall started to clap quite deliberately until a more enthusiastic welcome was heard from the rest of the school. Neville joined in and Harry followed, ignoring Ron's incredulous look and even Hermione's kind smile.
He found himself remembering an afternoon with Andromeda. During one of the hotter days of summer, she'd stood up during lunch and announced she had had enough of the heat and was going to turn on the air conditioning. Having been married to a Muggleborn, there were a lot of Muggle items in her home, and Harry had not been surprised she owned one. What took him by surprise was what she said afterwards.
"I guess those years of living in the dungeons left me with a poor tolerance to heat." She’d shrugged and gone off into the hallway for the thermostat.
He'd forgotten she was a former Slytherin. He must have never payed it any attention, but she was a Black and all Blacks except for Sirius were known for going into Slytherin. He thought of her gentle way of taking care of her grandson, the way she used all at her disposal to make his life the best it could be. Of Slughorn's actions of bringing help instead of running away during the Battle for Hogwarts and Snape's bravery as a double agent for so long.
How could house affiliation tell you everything about a person?
"Harry?" Ginny called to him breaking his musing.
"Yeah?" The scent of hot food filled his nostrils, and he found that his meal had appeared before him. The Sorting must have finished while he wasn't paying attention.
"You should eat before Ron reaches over and gobbles down your plate, too." Harry looked to Ron, who was enthusiastically wolfing down his meal, stopping only to refresh himself with drink.
"Wot?" the redhead asked, presenting them a clear view of his partly masticated food.
"Don't talk with your mouth full, Ron." Hermione grimaced at her boyfriend’s messiness.
"You should eat. Professor McGonagall wants all the eighth years to meet in her office after the feast," Neville informed him.
"Okay." Just what else had he missed? "Did she say what about?"
"No," Neville shrugged apologetically.
Harry nodded and thanked him, starting in on his dinner. His eyes narrowed when he saw one particular beverage near his plate. A quick inspection of his house mates’ plates confirmed he was the only one with this addition.
Warm milk.
He pushed it aside a little and was surprised to see it creep back. He pushed it again, closer to Neville, but an invisible pressure pushed back against him until the liquid was sloshing too close to the rim of the goblet. To avoid spilling it on Neville's plate, he gradually stopped resisting.
"I'll drink it before going to bed," he muttered into his plate, content to see the glass vanish.
"Were you talking to your food, mate?" Ron asked. His friend’s forkful of chicken halted by his mouth.
"No," Harry denied.
"O-Kay." Ron stuffed the food in his mouth, watching him oddly.
Harry laughed. "I was talking to Kreacher. He was trying to make me drink milk."
"At least I know you’re being taken care of in your house since I can't see for myself," Ginny commented without heat from across the table.
Harry's lingering smile faded and he could only nod. Once she turned her attention back to eating, he glanced at the head table, taking in the missing professors and their unfamiliar replacements.
What could McGonagall have to talk to them about?
~ * ~ * ~ *~
Harry's group was joined by Parvati, Seamus and Dean, and when they arrived outside the headmistress's office, the Slytherins were already there. Malfoy was a little apart from the group, leaning against the wall. The stance did not resemble a lounge, but rather a deliberate move to cover his back.
Harry had no idea why that reasoning occurred to him, but he was almost positive that was the case. Neither group said anything to each other, but waited on their opposite sides of the wall, eying each other.
"I apologise for the wait." McGonagall appeared around the bend, swiftly moving to the statue of the gargoyle and whispering, "Jelly slug".
As silly as it would have been to explain, it pleased Harry that the stern woman would use such a frivolous password as Albus would have. Jelly slugs were probably a lot better than whatever passwords were used while Snape was headmaster anyway.
Harry went first, followed by his friends. Ron was turning his neck back, watching the Slytherins like they would attack him. As if they would be foolish enough to try anything in front of the headmistress herself.
The group stepped into the office off the revolving staircase. It looked the same except for some very meaningful additions and subtractions. The sword of Gryffindor was back next to the Sorting Hat, but Fawkes's golden perch was gone and Dumbledore's portrait hung behind the desk.
Dumbledore was awake, and he smiled widely when he saw them, waving at Harry. He waved back. How many times had he wished he could have seen the man during the year before?
The Gryffindors returned his waves. Harry noted that Draco didn't; the Slytherin looked anywhere but the portrait directly in front of him.
The Slytherins took their seats wordlessly and the rest of them followed. There were eleven chairs assembled in two small rows. It was when Harry noticed each chair provided was occupied that he thought to ask, "Is this everyone?"
Heads turned and came to the same conclusion Harry had.
McGonagall came to stand in front of her desk, spine ramrod straight, hands together.
"Yes, unfortunately, this is the entirety of the eighth form. It's actually why I've called you all to my office. I ask that you listen to all I have to say before you speak any concerns or complaints."
She repeated the motion of the room-including stare she'd done in the Great Hall, though it was more effective in the smaller quarters with such few recipients.
"We did not have any responses from the Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs--“
"Probably because the bookworms already did everything," Ron whispered to Harry before snapping his mouth shut at McGonagall’s look.
"Indeed, Mr Weasley, maybe they were able to complete their studies in a manner they were satisfied with. Regardless of the reason, your two houses are the only ones that did.
"During the preparations for your last school year, we discovered that the castle itself offered an option. A section of the castle seems to have modified itself for your stay. You will be making use of these rooms as your dormitories."
Harry could hear Ron take a deep breath, possibly to rant about the injustice of it all. Hermione's hard nudge to his side deflated his attempted rebellion. The reaction from the rest of the students was much the same. Horrified looks were exchanged even between the two houses while Dumbledore smiled encouragingly at Harry from his frame.
For his part, Harry was taken back. This was not going to be like the years before. One of his major reasons for agreeing to come back was enjoying what he'd missed during the war. He certainly had never bunked with the Slytherins.
"You will attend your main classes together, though the points you earn or lose will affect your respective houses. I expect you to comport yourself with dignity, and provide a good example for the younger years."
Her thin lips pursed together. "Any questions?"
A couple of people started talking at once. "Raise your hands," she ordered.
Hermione was the first to raise hers; she had plenty of practice doing so.
"Headmistress, how exactly is the curriculum going to be carried out? I'm sure we all have different timetables?"
"You will have Transfiguration, Potions, and Muggle Studies together. You will be integrated into classes with the seventh years for the remaining courses."
"Yes, Miss Parkinson?" Harry turned to look at the girl. People had been sure to tell him she had taken up a cry to turn him over to Voldemort.
"I didn't sign up for Muggle Studies." She wrinkled her pug nose in distaste.
"You didn't have too. It is now a requirement," McGonagall replied, daring her to complain.
Ron's hand shot up in the air, and he began to speak when the headmistress nodded. "So, we are going to live together? In the same room?"
"Well, no, Mr Weasley." Ron's face was filled with relief until she continued. "Obviously, the ladies and gentlemen will have their own dormitories and share a common room."
"Yes, Miss Patil?"
"Will there be a bed for Lavender? I'm sure she's coming." Her expression was hopeful.
"There are accommodations being made for her," the headmistress replied with a softening of her features.
"Any more questions?"
Zabini looked as if he had a few choice words, but made no movement to speak. Goyle seemed more interested in whatever was in his pockets than to what was being said. Malfoy glanced briefly toward Harry but said nothing, returning his gaze to his hands.
"Okay, then I will lead you to your new dormitories now."
They stood up to follow her, moving less enthusiastically than before.
"Draco." They all stopped when Dumbledore called out to the blond. "A word please." The former headmaster's smile was kind and gentle.
McGonagall ushered them all out with two thin hands firm against their shoulder blades. Harry's last sight was of Draco standing before the portrait, his loose blond hair covering his lowered face.
They descended the staircase and got in line behind McGonagall. "Come along, please."
"Don't we have to wait for Malfoy?" Harry, first in line, asked quietly.
"He'll know where to go, Mr. Potter," she replied, taking them forward out of the tower. They used the stairways to reach the seventh floor and walked down a long corridor. It was the sight of the Barnabas and his graceless troll ballet that brought Harry to a halt.
No wonder they didn't need to wait for Malfoy.
Their new dormitories were in the Room of Requirement.
Chapter Three