FIC: Inevitable 46: Didn't See That One Coming
Inevitable Forty-Six: Didn't See That One Coming
by Mhalachai
Note: We are changing things around a bit, now. We'll be with Harry for a bit. A word about the timeline of this story. We are AU From Half-Blood Prince, but at the same time we are using that book. Imagine, if you will, if an extra year was squeezed in there, and certain HBP events will unfold before our eyes...
~~~~~~~
Harry grabbed the kid's free hand and pulled him up, away from Anita and onto the train, before setting him firmly into the train corridor. Once the kid was safely in the train, Harry reached out and closed the carriage door.
Harry took a deep breath and relaxed against the wall. His heart was pounding with adrenaline, from the near-miss with the kid, and also the kiss he'd given Anita. For a moment, after he'd run his tongue over Anita's lower lip, he'd been half-expecting her to shoot him on the spot. But she'd smiled, and waved him off, and now he was on the train back to Hogwarts, leaving Anita far behind.
Harry let go of the train door handle and turned around. "You okay?" Harry asked the kid.
The boy nodded hard, brown eyes huge in his face. "Thank you," he said shyly, looking down. He seemed a little bit embarrassed. "I didn't mean to leave the train."
Harry waved it off. "You're here, though." He grinned at the boy. "Your first year?"
The boy nodded even harder. "Yes, sir."
Harry winced. That was the last thing he needed, to start the year going around as 'sir.' "Call me Harry," he said.
"I'm Reece," the boy said. "It's nice to meet you, Harry."
Harry wanted to ask Reece how long he'd been a werewolf, and if Reece's parents had been on the platform, but now wasn't the time for those questions, with a train full of curious witches and wizards. Instead, Harry clapped a hand on Reece's narrow shoulders. "You should find a carriage before they all fill up."
The boy's face lit up at the physical contact, and Harry belatedly remembered what it meant to a werewolf. Well, why not? Harry thought, annoyed at his own thoughts. He's a kid, and he's leaving his family behind. He shouldn't have to be alone.
Without another word, Reece darted down the corridor, squeezing past two tall boys effortlessly. Harry recognized the boys as Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, two Gryffindor in his own year.
"Harry!" Dean called. Harry started down the corridor toward them, passing several compartments already filled with chattering students. "Harry, how'd you do it?"
"Do what?" Harry asked, slightly confused. "You mean with Reece?"
Seamus guffawed. "Nice one," he said. "Good to have you back."
"Right." Harry looked between Dean and Seamus, waiting for one of them to tell him the joke, but they were not forthcoming. "Have you seen Ron or Hermione?"
Dean jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "A couple compartments down." Grinning, Dean pulled the still-laughing Seamus down the train.
What was that all about? Harry hoped he didn't have something on his face. Hopefully, Anita would have mentioned it.
He spotted a shock of red hair. Worries about Dean and Seamus forgotten, Harry pulled open the compartment door. Ron looked up from where he was fiddling with Pigwidgeon's cage beside to a sleeping Crookshanks. "Hey, Harry!"
"Hi, Ron," Harry said, grinning from ear to ear. He saw the other two people in the compartment. "Hey, Neville. Hi, Luna."
"Hi, Harry," Neville said. His toad Trevor was in a new carrier, probably due to the animal's frequent escape attempts. Next to Neville, Luna already had a magazine spread on her lap. She looked up at Harry, and smiled.
"So, you almost missed the train?" Ron said, straightening up. He had a bit of a smirk on his face.
"Almost, but not quite," Harry said, wondering what had gotten into everyone. He unbuttoned the cloak Elsa had given him, and dropped it on the seat. "We had to go to Diagon Alley this morning, and it was just a rush for time." He plopped on the seat next to Ron and stretched his legs out. "But got here in time."
"Just in time," Ron said. Harry noticed that Ron and Neville exchanged a glance.
"What is wrong with everyone?" Harry asked, frowning.
Luna sighed deeply and closed her magazine. "They watched you lick that woman and they're being silly about it," she said bluntly.
Harry bolted upright. "What?"
"He didn't lick her, he kissed her!" Ron contradicted. "Who was she, Harry?"
Harry felt his heart plummet to somewhere above his left kneecap. "What do you mean?" he stammered defensively, the colour rise to his cheeks.
"I just wanted to know who she was," Ron said, a frown creasing his forehead.
That must be what Seamus and Dean were talking about. Saying goodbye to Anita was supposed to be separate from his Hogwarts life, not giggled over by a bunch of teenagers. He opened his mouth to snap at Ron, but stopped himself in time. Ron didn't know why Anita was important to Harry, or even who she was. He was just asking.
"That was Anita," Harry said, sinking back to the seat. "The woman I stayed with over the summer, in St. Louis."
"Oh." Ron frowned harder. "But..."
"How did you meet her?" Neville asked curiously.
Harry hesitated. He hadn't really thought about what he was going to tell people, about his summer. Most of his acquaintances knew he stayed with his muggle relatives, or the Weasleys, and probably wouldn't question him, but not Ron or Hermione or Ginny. What was he going to tell them?
A loud hooting from above interrupted them. Harry looked up, to see Hedwig staring down at him from her cage on the upper rack.
"Hedwig," Harry said. He had never been so grateful to his owl before. But when he hopped up on the seat and reached up to pull down her cage, she snapped her beak at him, glaring balefully.
Harry pulled his hand back, uncertain. Could she sense the werewolf in him? Did wolves attack owls?
Slowly, Harry put his hand back toward her. "It's me, Hedwig," he said, trying to stay as still as possible on the swaying train. "I'm sorry I've been away so long."
The snowy owl let Harry put his fingers next to the cage, watching him suspiciously. When she didn't snap at him again, Harry unlatched the cage door and put his hand inside to stroke her head. She remained aloof for a moment, then submitted to his touch.
The panic in his chest eased. Hedwig still knew him, even if he'd changed a bit over the summer. He had always known she was a special owl. This just proved it.
After a few more scratches, and a promise to get her a juicy mouse when they got to Hogwarts, Harry secured the cage and climbed off the seat.
"Sorry about that," Harry said apologetically. Neville smiled uncertainly.
"She missed you something awful," Ron said. He shifted around so he was facing Harry. "Wouldn't let anyone touch her for a week after you left."
"Yeah," Harry muttered. "Thanks for watching her while I was gone."
Ron shrugged. "It was no trouble. She's a lot better behaved than Pig," he said easily, ignoring Pig's indignant hooting.
"Yeah." Harry glanced out the window, as the train yard was giving way to cityscape. Everything was cramped and packed and familiar, but so different than the wide-open spaces and empty stretches of land and road in St. Louis. I bet Nathaniel would really enjoy this, Harry thought fleetingly.
"So, Anita?" Ron pressed after a minute.
"Right." Harry moved around, trying to find a comfortable place to sit. "You know how strange my life can be?"
Ron's eyebrows went up at that question. "Was it that bad?"
"No. Well, yes, but not really. I mean, the Dursleys took me out sightseeing and then abandoned me in the countryside, but that was just the beginning." He proceeded to tell half the story, in as comical a fashion as he could manage. He told Ron and Luna and Neville about Anita and everyone in St. Louis, but left out the parts about werewolves, vampires, long-lost grandfathers and the arduer. It was a rather brief story.
Harry skipped over the part about Bellatrix without even a hitch in his tale. What Bellatrix had done to Anita, and how the witch had died, was a story for Ron and Hermione's ears only. Harry was friends with Neville and Luna, but they weren't close enough to hear that.
Jumping past Bellatrix put Harry right at the story of Nigel Spencer and his mysterious death. Since that incident had made the American newspapers, Harry had no qualms about explaining every last detail, including all about the muggle police and RPIT.
"You duelled two American Aurors in a police station and they let you walk right out?" Ron demanded, interrupting Harry's story.
Harry nodded. "We didn't know they were Aurors at the time, right?" he said, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. The train wasn't overheated, but he still felt a little warm. "But it all worked out in the end."
"I'll say," Ron said, looking slightly boggled. "And I thought that spending a week at Hermione's parents was excitement."
"Where is Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Off being Head Girl," Ron said. "She's not as bad as Percy was, though."
The look of disgust on Ron's face at the mention of Percy's name made Harry ask, "How is your family?"
Ron rubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "All right, I suppose," he said. "Dads got loads to do at work, with the new Minster and all. Bill's still in London, and Charlie's coming back soon. Mum's bustling around all the time, getting ready for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Say, you didn't see Mum on the platform, did you? She and the twins came to see me and Ginny off."
"No, I didn't," Harry said, disappointed. "We only just got here in time for the train. If I'd known she was there..."
"She was wondering how you were, this summer," Ron said. "Dumbledore only told her you were safe, but she still worried."
"I was just fine," Harry said, uncomfortable. "I'll send her a letter tomorrow, to let her know I wasn't eaten by vampires."
"Vampires?" Neville echoed.
"Of course," Luna said, nose buried in her magazine. "St. Louis is a hotbed of vampire activity. They even have an incubus, and a circus where you can go to see vampires and werewolves."
Ron rolled his eyes, used to Luna's eccentric talk. Harry, however, leaned across the compartment and pulled Luna's magazine down. "How do you know so much about St. Louis?" he asked, curious.
"Dad had a freelancer write an article on international magical hotspots, for the Quibbler," Luna explained. "St. Louis was second on the list in North America, right after Moose Jaw."
"What's in Moose Jaw?" Neville asked.
"Sasquatch." Luna tried to pull her magazine back up, but Harry wouldn't let it go. She glared at him with pale blue eyes. "I read the article before Dad published it."
"Really?" Harry had to smile at her. "I bet it didn't have the best stuff in it."
Luna wrinkled her nose. "Like what?"
"Like at the Circus of the Damned, they have a lamia," Harry said.
Luna clapped her hands over her mouth. "Really?" she squeaked. "They're supposed to be extinct!"
"Not so," Harry said. "Her name is Melanie. She's really freaky, and has a hell of an attitude. And fangs that she can hide if she wants."
Luna's eyes were shining with excitement. She had gotten really pretty over the summer, Harry thought suddenly. As he was looking at her, she must have realized something, because her face went blank and she started waving a finger at Harry, too excited to speak.
"What?" Harry asked.
Luna pulled her hand back and leaned in conspiratorially. "You stayed with that Anita? Anita Blake?"
"Yes," Harry said, frowning. He didn't like where this was going.
"Anita Blake, the necromancer?" Luna went on. "That was her, at the train station?"
"Wait, what?" Neville exclaimed. He'd gone pale as a sheet. "You stayed with a--" he broke off and bent over to Harry and Luna. "You stayed with a necromancer all summer, Harry?" he whispered.
"Yes," Harry said, voice tight. "So what?"
"They're dark wizards, all of them!" Neville said vehemently. "You actually stayed with one?"
Anger growing in his chest, Harry sat up straight and pressed his back against the seat. "Anita's not evil," he said coldly. His beast rumbled in his chest, unhappy at the insult to his Lupa. "She's a good person. We're not evil just because we know magic, and neither is she."
"I'm sorry, Harry, it's just that--" Neville's apology was cut off as the door to the compartment slid open.
"Harry!" Hermione squealed, smiling widely.
Harry jumped up. "Hi, Hermione," he said happily, spontaneously pulling her into a hug. She hugged him back, slender and vibrant in his arms.
"We thought you'd missed the train!" Hermione continued, pulling back. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "And what happened to you?"
"Happened to me?" Harry repeated. There was something different about Hermione. What was it? Not makeup...
"You got taller, and you have these neat clothes," she said, plucking at his sleeve. "Did you have a good summer?"
"Yes," Harry said honestly. "And I love what you've done with your hair." That was the difference. Her hair wasn't as long as it had been the previous spring.
Hermione smiled a little self-consciously. "Thanks."
"Would you mind letting the rest of us in, or are you planning on blocking the door all day?" came a voice from the corridor. Harry looked up from Hermione, to see Ginny Weasley leaning against the door.
However much Hermione had changed over the summer, it was nothing compared to Ginny. Harry couldn't figure out what it was; her hair was still long and tied up in a messy ponytail, she still had slightly worn robes, but the way she was looking at him, with a tiny smirk playing about the corner of her lips and a gleam in her brown eyes, made Harry forget everything he was doing, and just stare.
"Oy, mate, please stop staring at my sister," Ron's pained voice brought Harry back to earth. Feeling very self conscious, Harry stepped back to let Ginny into the compartment. She slid through the door and squeezed herself onto the seat between Luna and Neville.
Harry went back to his seat, which was now rather crowded as Hermione was sitting beside Ron, his arm over her shoulders. "What were you lot talking about?" Ginny asked briskly.
"Necromancers," Luna said immediately, and Harry shot her a glare.
"I'm not sure--"
"Is this about Anita Blake?" Hermione asked, surprised. "What about her?"
"She came to see Harry off," Ron told her.
"She came over to England with you, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Didn't that cause a problem?"
Harry turned his head. He knew that tone; had heard it far too often over the years. "What do you mean?" he asked warily.
"Didn't it cause a problem with London's vampires? After all, she's an American vampire's servant, isn't she?"
"How much digging did you do on her?" Harry demanded, prickling protectively. He remembered Neville's wide-eyed pronouncement about evil necromancers. If Hermione started in on that...
"Just what was available on the Internet," Hermione said quickly. "The tabloids seem to love her vampire, Jean-Claude. They have a lot of spec-- speculation on what they get up to." Hermione blushed.
"What kind of stuff were you reading?" he asked.
"Just muggle newspaper articles," she said. "Was it right? Is she a human servant?"
"What is a human servant?" Ginny asked. "Is it like a slave?"
"No," Harry said, sitting up. He had a chance to get rid of everyone's misconceptions about Anita and vampires. Who better to tell them about vampires than him? Casting a quick look at Ginny, Harry said, "Listen, this is the way it works..."
~*~
"Then the book is wrong!" Harry exclaimed.
"It's the definitive text on dark creatures!" Hermione retorted. "It's been in use at Hogwarts for twenty years!"
"Then a whole generation of wizards are working off information that it wrong!" Harry gestured toward the defence against the dark arts textbook in Hermione's lap. "A vampire doesn't get stronger with only age. Yes, an older vampire is likely to be more powerful, but that doesn't guarantee that they become a master!"
"But how can you know?" Hermione demanded.
Harry pulled off his glasses, trying to come up with the words. "A vampire in St. Louis, Meng Die," he said after a moment. "She's only about two hundred years old, but she's a powerful master. Give her another thirty years, and she'd be powerful enough to hold a city on her own."
"You mean control over other vampires?" Neville asked, concentrating intently on the conversation.
"Yes!" Harry gestured emphatically with his glasses. "There is another vampire, I know, Damian. He's over a thousand years old, and he'll never be a master. We don't know why a vampire becomes a master, or why not."
"But there has to be a reason!" Hermione said, her voice rising in despair. "Ron, what do you think?"
Ron looked up from where he was balancing his wand on one finger. "I think we're not even at school yet, and the lot of you are already sounding like you're in classes," he said. "If I have to deal with this all year, I might go mad."
"You mean madder," Hermione said.
Ron winked at her. "Wouldn't life be boring if I wasn't?" he said, and Hermione smiled brilliantly at him.
Across the compartment, Harry saw Luna whispering in Ginny's ear, then they both giggled.
"But Harry," Neville said, still frowning, "What does it mean to us if a vampire's not a master?"
"You mean, like if we were attacked?" Harry asked, slipping his glasses back on. Neville nodded. "Well, it might be easier to fight them off... weaker vampires won't have an animal to call, and can't control other vampires."
"Enough," Ron ordered. "We're not going to be attacked by vampires on the way to Hogwarts. Here comes the trolley."
Outside the compartment, a plump elderly witch stopped the sweet cart as Harry leapt to his feet and pulled the door open. "What does everyone want?" he asked. "My treat." Ron began to protest, but Harry cut him off. "You looked after Hedwig all summer, it's the least I can do."
Ron looked as if he was going to object, but Hermione squeezed his hand.
Luna and Neville called out their orders, and Harry handed them their sweets. Hermione asked for a Chocolate Frog, and poked Ron in the side until he asked grudgingly for a cauldron cake and some Bernie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans.
"Ginny?" Harry asked.
She shrugged. "I'm not hungry, but thanks."
"Right." Harry turned back to the witch. "Four chocolate frogs, and a few more cauldron cakes..." He stared at the cart. "Do you have anything that isn't sweet on there?"
"Of course, dear," the witch said. "Sandwiches."
"Great, I'll have three," Harry said. Amused, the witch gave Harry his order. He paid her, and, arms loaded with food, turned back to his seat.
He had just dropped the food to the cushion when a small black blur darted through the open door and through his legs. Crookshanks woke suddenly, and hissed menacingly at the area under Harry's seat where the creature was cowering.
"It's a tiny cat!" Ginny exclaimed as Hermione gathered up her hissing familiar. "Poor thing!"
"I'll get it," Harry said. He dropped to his knees, and reached a hand under the seat. His fingers encountered soft fur, then he felt needle-sharp claws rake over his skin. "Ouch!" he exclaimed, jerking back.
"You're scaring it!" Luna said.
"It's returning the favour!" Harry clenched his teeth and bent back over, keeping his face and hand safely out of the creature's reach. A tiny handful of black fur, hardly lighter than the shadows under the seat, surrounded a pair of yellow eyes. The little cat hissed at him.
Carefully, Harry put his bleeding hand out slowly toward the cat. His hand was almost within its reach, when it hissed and reached out a paw to slash him again. Harry pulled his hand back as fast as he could.
"All right, that's it," he declared, sitting back on his heel. "Hand me a sandwich."
"Excuse me?" came a tiny voice from the corridor. Harry looked up to see Reece hiding behind the door. "I think my cat ran in here?"
"The claws down there belong to you?" Harry asked. It was sort of funny, in a way, that a werewolf had a cat as a pet.
Reece nodded miserably. "She got out of her carrier, and I think she got scared."
"Harry!" Hermione chastised. "She's in here," she told Reece kindly.
Reece edged out from around the door, eyes flying around the compartment. Harry could see his nostrils flaring. He must be smelling everyone, Harry realized.
"Thank you," Reece whispered. He knelt by the seat and held his hand out to the cat. "Come here, Freya."
"Who names a cat Freya?" Ron muttered. Reece winced at the comment, but didn't look up.
"The same kind of person who call an owl Hedwig," Harry said. He shot Ron a glare as the first year pulled his unhappy cat from under the seat.
Reece cradled the cat against his chest. "Sorry to bother you," he said.
"It's okay," Harry said. Reese was acting too submissive for Harry's liking. Like we're scary! he thought indignantly. "Would you like to meet an owl named Hedwig?"
"A real owl?" Reece asked, eyes growing large. "I've only seen one up close."
"The one who brought you your Hogwart's letter?" Harry guessed, going up on the seat to bring down Hedwig's cage.
Reece nodded. "My Ul--" the boy clapped his mouth shut and went a deep red. "My uncle, he thought it was crazy," he hastily amended.
The boy was a quick thinker, Harry had to give him that. "Maybe it was," Harry said, winking. "Half the Hogwarts owls are." Harry set Hedwig's cage on the empty seat, and knelt on the floor, pressing up against Hermione's legs.
"Wow," Reece said, mouth half open as he stared at Hedwig. "She's really pretty."
Hedwig opened one eye and stared at the boy.
"You'll soon get used to owls," Ginny said. "They carry the post, flying all over Hogwarts."
"Yes, ma'am," Reece whispered.
Harry rolled his eyes. "What did I tell you about that? Guys, this is Reece." He quickly introduced everyone to Reece. The boy nodded, but now that he had his cat back, it seemed his mind was on a different matter.
"Did you really win the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" Reece blurted out when Harry was done.
Harry felt his insides seize up. "Yes, I did," Harry said when he found his voice. "Why do you ask?"
Reece shifted his cat to one hand and dug into his pocket for something. "That's what it says on the card," he said apologetically, holding out a small Chocolate Frog card.
"On the card? What card?" Harry asked, confused. He took the card from Reece and looked down to see his own face. Harry's jaw dropped.
"You didn't know?" Neville asked. "They came out in July."
"Jul-- What? How? Why?"
The picture of Harry on the card smiled, looking around nervously. It was the same photograph that had appeared in the Quibbler in Harry's fifth year, with his interview about Voldemort.
Horrified, Harry flipped the card over.
Harry James Potter, currently a student at Hogwarts
Harry Potter banished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the age of 15 months, being the only known survivor of the Killing Curse. Winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, battled You-Know-Who at the Battle of the Ministry. He is the Gryffindor Seeker in his final year at Hogwarts. Hobbies include Quidditch and crochet.
"I've never crocheted in my life!" Harry said, indignant. He looked around. Everyone was watching him warily.
"But someone tried to kill you when you were a baby?" Reece asked. "The guy who doesn't have a name?"
Harry swallowed his appalled outrage. "He's got a name," Harry snapped. "It's Voldemort."
"Oh." Reece fidgeted. "Can I have the card back? The other kids in my compartment don't believe that you're in the train."
"Brilliant." Harry handed Reece back the card. "You go tell them I'm here, and this card is utter rubbish!"
"Right." Reece grabbed the card from between Harry's fingers, not looking him in the face, and bolted out of the compartment.
Harry put Hedwig's cage back on the upper rack, so vigorous in his movements that the owl protested, then he dropped back to his seat and buried his head in his hands. "I can't believe this!"
"Why not?" Luna asked. "You defeated You-Know-Who, didn't you?"
"Yes, but--"
"And you won the tournament, and you fought him in the Ministry."
"But so did everyone else here!" Harry exclaimed. "Putting me on this card is the stupidest thing ever! I'm not a great wizard, I'm just lucky! If you guys didn't help me..." Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "I shouldn't be on that card any more than anyone else in this compartment."
"Well, it is an act of defiance, isn't it?" Hermione said, going beet red. "Against Voldemort."
"What?"
"It says that the people who make the cards think that Voldemort and all this ideas are rubbish," Ginny said. Unlike Hermione, her voice wasn't wavering. She looked steadily at Harry, an odd light in her eyes. "They're saying that you're a great wizard because you stand up to him."
"And if you can, we all can," Neville said quietly.
Harry stared out the window, at the passing countryside. No matter what everyone said, it didn't make any sense for anyone to put him on a Chocolate Frog card. They were supposed to be for the greatest wizards and witches ever, like Dumbledore. Not him.
He didn't feel like a hero.
"So, Neville," Ron said uncertainly, breaking the unpleasant silence. "Got any new plants this year?"
~*~
Harry stepped off the train, drawing in lungfuls of the crisp air. Over the heads of the students, he spotted a large, hulking shape trudging down the platform. "Firs' years! Firs' years, over 'ere!"
"Hagrid!" Harry called, waving his arm over his head. Hagrid spotted him, and waved back. Grinning, Harry walked beside Ron and Neville down the platform toward the waiting carriages.
"Want any carriage in particular?" Ginny asked, walking beside Luna and Hermione ahead of the boys.
"They're all creepy," Neville said under his breath.
Harry agreed. The carriages were hitched to Thestrals, ghostly black reptilian-looking horses. The horses were invisible to anyone who hadn't seen death. Harry had been able to see them since after Cedric died.
"Come on, then," Ginny called, leading them on. Harry glanced around in the dying light, at the other students moving toward the carriages. He recognized people from every house. Three carriages over, Harry spotted a flash of blond hair. Malfoy.
Harry frowned as he got into the carriage behind Ron. He hadn't really spared Malfoy much of a thought during the train ride, or over the summer. But Bellatrix Lestrange was his aunt, Harry remembered. I watched his aunt be eaten by a pack of werewolves, and I didn't even think about Malfoy.
Ron squeezed into the carriage and closed the door. "Are we going to break this thing?" he asked as he squished down beside Hermione.
"Probably not," Hermione said, although she was looking around rather nervously as the carriage began to move creakily.
Luna sat across from Harry, watching him with careful eyes. “What?" Harry asked.
"Your glasses are different," she said.
"I know that."
"What happened to the old ones?"
"Someone stepped on them."
"I like these ones better," Luna said frankly. "They make your eyes look greener." Ginny elbowed Luna in the ribs.
Not quite sure how to respond, Harry looked out the window. The carriage rattled over a hill, and Harry caught sight of the turrets of Hogwarts castle in the distance. A tension in his chest eased. He was almost home.
The six teenagers spoke of light matters, mostly Neville's summer vacation in Calais, as the carriages drew closer to school. The first year students, including Reece, were probably all getting into the boats that very moment, getting ready to float across the lake to the castle. Harry remembered his first view of the castle, back when things were so much more simple, when everything bad was behind him and everything good in front of him.
Now, I'm not going to see Anita or Nathaniel or Jason again for a very long time, Harry thought, feeling his good mood waver. Anita's on the plane to America, and Jason's probably holding her hand and talking her through the ride. They'll get home, and Micah and Nathaniel will be there to pick them up, and take them home to where Damian is. A lump rose in Harry's throat, and he had to swallow hard. Will they even miss me?
Harry recovered by the time that the carriage pulled up in front of the school. Harry joked with Ron and Neville as they all made their way to the Great Hall, but his heart wasn't really in it. I already miss them.
The Great Hall was just as Harry remembered. Hundreds of candles floated in the air, gleaming off the empty golden plates that lined the four long House tables. The ceiling above, charmed to look like the night sky, showed the stars peeking out of the twilight.
Luna gave Ginny a little hug, then separated from the Gryffindors and headed to the Ravenclaw table. Harry watched her go, entranced by sway of Luna's blonde hair hanging down her back, and walked right into Dean Thomas. Dean shoved Harry back, and, laughing, they sat down at the Gryffindor table.
Once seated, Harry looked at the front teacher's table. Dumbledore was leaning back in his chair, surveying the students with a slight smile. When his eyes met Harry's, Harry nodded firmly. Dumbledore smiled back.
Harry slid onto the bench beside Hermione, protesting when she slapped his shoulder for obstructing her view of the front table. "Move!"
"Why?" Harry asked as he leaned over his plate. "What are you looking for?"
"Our new teacher!" she said. "We need someone to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, don't we?"
"Yes, because that always goes so well," Ron groused.
"There!" Hermione said. "No, don't look!" she exclaimed as Ron and Harry both turned their heads to see.
A balding elderly wizard sat between Snape and Professor Flitwick at the head table. He had a huge, drooping blonde moustache, and looked rather like a deflated balloon, as if he had lost a large amount of weight in a short time.
"That has to be him!" Hermione hissed.
"Doesn't look like much, does he?" Ron said. "Wonder who he is?"
"Don't know. I hope the Sorting goes smoothly," Harry said, rubbing his stomach. His new robes felt scratchy under his hand. "I'm starving."
"Did they not feed you over in America?" Ron asked.
Harry thought of all the food he'd eaten over the summer, and snorted. "No, they fed me too much. I got used to eating."
The last of the upper-year students arrived, and as the noise in the hall grew, Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, floated past, greeting the students. "Hi Nick," Ron called.
"Mr. Weasley," Nick said, coming to a stop by the table. "Your last year, correct? Are you planning as memorable exit as your brothers?"
Two years before, the twins had left Hogwarts in a hail of fireworks and magic. That night was still talked about fondly in the halls of Hogwarts. Now, Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Probably not," he muttered.
Nick nodded and floated away, head wobbling dangerously on his almost severed neck.
Ron glowered at his empty plate. Harry wanted to say something to him, but what? He hadn't seen Ron all summer, and didn't know what could be bothering him. Maybe Hermione would know.
The main doors to the Great Hall banged open, and all talking ceased. Professor McGonagall marched in, leading the group of first years. Their awed faces shone in the candlelight. Only seven years before, Harry had been in their shoes, terrified that he'd get sent back to the Dursleys. He knew how they felt.
Craning his head, Harry finally spotted Reece near the back of the group. The boy saw Harry, and gave a tiny wave. Harry waved back.
"Looks like you made a friend," Ginny said, leaning over the table. "I wonder where he'll get sorted."
"Gryffindor," Harry said immediately. Ginny gave him a look. "Well, why not?"
"You can never tell," Hermione said practically. "The Sorting Hat has its own logic."
"What do you think it'll sing about this year?" Neville asked. "Houses? Or the danger we're all in, like it has for the past two years?"
"Probably both," Ron said. "Makes you wonder how it knows what's going on."
"It does live in Dumbledore office," Hermione pointed out, as the first years gathered arround the Sorting stool.
"But it does seem to have a mind of its own," Harry said, growing slightly uneasy. The Hat had a peek into everyone's head when they were sorted. Was it looking for anything besides where to sort a student?
As McGonagall put the tattered Hat on the stool, Harry looked across the table at Ginny. She was staring at the Hat, a frown on her face. Unbidden, Harry remembered something that Mr. Weasley had said after Ginny was enchanted by Tom Riddle's diary. Never trust anything if you can't see where it keeps its brain.
The Hat began to sing.
~*~
When the song was over, everyone dutifully applauded the Hat. "Good song," Dean said idly. "Better than last year." Harry snickered.
Hermione hushed them as Professor McGonagall unrolled her list of names, and called the first student up to be sorted.
"Al-Adib, Sara!"
~*~
They were almost done with the sorting. Harry's stomach was twisting, and he couldn't wait for the food to arrive. Too many sweets, he thought unhappily. He hadn't eaten that much sugar in a long time, and certainly not since he had been in St. Louis. Either the werewolf in me doesn't like it, or I'm too old to eat like that.
"Trevelyan, Reece!"
Harry jerked his head up as Reece squared his shoulders and marched up the steps. So far, the new students were pretty evenly split between the four houses, with only three students left. "Come on," Harry said under his breath.
He couldn't explain how, but he was almost certain that Reece would be sorted into Gryffindor. Harry was there, and Remus had been in Gryffindor. The house animal, a lion, was almost like a wolf, right?
Professor McGonagall dropped the Hat over Reece's head. Everyone waited while the Hat thought, twitching its pointed top in the air. After a full minute, the Hat shouted, "Hufflepuff!"
What? Harry was jarred, but he quickly recovered and clapped as loudly as the Hufflepuffs, as Reece slid off the stood and ran toward the Hufflepuff table. His face was shining as his new Housemates accepted him at the table.
Shows what I know, Harry thought ruefully. He shook his head as the next sorting began.
"I'm sure the Hat made the right choice," Ginny said., drawing his attention.
"Yeah, probably," Harry said. He smiled at her, and was rewarded as she smiled back. When did she get so pretty? Harry wondered, dazed. Everyone got prettier over the summer, but Ginny and Luna in particular.
After the last student was sorted into Slytherin, Dumbledore stood. The low murmur of voices stopped immediately.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "I have a few words before we eat. First, I would like to introduce our new professor." He turned and held out a hand to the new wizard at the table, who stood. "This is Professor Slughorn, who has been kind enough to agree to take up his old post as Potions professor this year."
"Potions?" Harry repeated, not believing his ears. Snape was right there, sitting at the table. If Slughorn was teaching Potions...
"Professor Snape will be moving to the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore continued over the growing roar.
"What?" Ron exclaimed in a loud voice. Luckily for him, everyone else was talking at once, so no one heard him.
Harry, however, had snapped his mouth shut. He glared at Snape, anger and something very close to disgust roiling in his gut. Snape was as smug as Harry had ever seen him, the smarmy bastard.
"Is it too late to drop Defence?" Ron asked Hermione. "I swear, I can't stand a year of Snape. Dropping potions was the best idea I ever had!"
"You didn't drop Potions, Ron, you didn't get a high enough OWL grade," Hermione snapped, dropping her voice as Dumbledore held up his hands for silence.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said. "I know you will all make Professor Slugworth feel right at home. Now, a few more words." His face became grave, and a chill echoed around the room. "The Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students. And no one is to leave school grounds without permission."
Dumbledore scanned the suddenly alert student body. "The school and grounds will be patrolled by several Aurors this year, for your protection. They will not interfere with classes. If you have any concerns, please talk with your head of House."
"At least it's not Dementors," Harry muttered, wincing as Hermione kicked his ankle. Still, Harry wasn't impressed. What defence could a few Aurors provide against Death Eaters, if they got onto the grounds?
"And now, I am sure your minds and bellies will rest easier if they are full." Dumbledore clapped his hands, and the tables were suddenly loaded with food. "Enjoy!"
The Gryffindors jumped to fill their plates, but Harry sat still, deep in thought. "Earth to Harry," Ron said after a minute, his mouth full. "Still thinking about Snape?"
"Huh?" Harry asked, blinking hard. "No." Actually, Harry's thoughts had been occupied entirely with the stupidity of the American Aurors he had duelled over the summer, and on Ministry incompetence in general. "Pass the meat, would you?"
The smell of the roast reawakened Harry's appetite. He speared four slices of the rarest-cooked meat he could find, then reached for the lone platter of cooked greens.
"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned.
"Yeah, why?" Harry asked as he sliced into his dinner.
Hermione eyed his plate. "You used to have potatoes all the time," she pointed out.
Harry looked at the tureen of mashed potatoes sitting in front of Neville. The white surface was flecked with green bits of parsley, and Harry felt his throat constrict. "I'm fine, really," he said, going back to his slightly bloody meat.
His eating habits hadn't changed that much, had they? Harry chewed his beef thoughtfully, wishing it wasn't cooked so well. The greens were also overcooked, making him long for that last dinner at Anita's house, where Nathaniel had made everyone almost-raw steaks, with lots of fresh vegetables and corn and salad. Stripper food, Jason had called it.
Harry had a hard time swallowing his mouthful, as he thought of St. Louis. Suddenly, all he wanted was to talk to Damian one last time, to be eating the food Nathaniel made, listening to Micah talk to Anita.
I'm can't be bloody homesick for a place that isn't even mine! Harry told himself angrily. They said I could go back, but not so soon.
He didn't realize that Hermione had spoken until she put her hand on his arm. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
He made himself nod. "Of course," he said with a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "I'm back, aren't I?"
She didn't look convinced. "This isn't about Snape?"
"No," Harry said. "I'll deal with him. Maybe Ron's right, and we can just drop Defence."
"Not now!" Hermione whispered. "Not with You-Know-Who still out there!"
"I'll think about it," Harry said, looking back at his plate. He took a deep breath "It's just that nothing is turning out the way I wanted it."
Reece was in Hufflepuff; Snape was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, Voldemort was probably being evil somewhere... None of it was right.
Welcome back, Harry thought bitterly, and speared a chunk of beef on his fork.
~*~
"I'll see you upstairs!" Ginny said as everyone scrambled to their feet after the conclusion of the School Song. "I've got to be Prefect for a bit... First year Gryffindors! This way!"
With the other prefects, Ginny herded the brand-new Gryffindors toward the door. Dean and Neville and Seamus left soon after, arguing about something to do with Neville's latest plant, leaving Harry, Hermione and Ron were left at the table.
"I should go upstairs," Hermione said reluctantly. "In case anyone needs to talk to me."
"No rest of the Head Girl, huh?" Harry asked, leaning his elbow on the table and grinning at her.
"It's a big responsibility!" Hermione said. She looked over Harry's shoulder and sat up straight. "Hello, Professor McGonagall!"
"Oh, hello, Miss Granger," the head of Gryffindor said, looking slightly frazzled. "Mr. Potter, it's good to see you in one piece."
"Pardon?" Harry asked, looking up at the professor. "Is something wrong?"
"No, but next time you go traipsing off to America, please let me know. The poor owl barely made it back in one piece." She handed a tattered-looking envelope to Harry. He took it, frowning.
"I didn't think about that," he said, ripping it open. He pulled out the letter and set it on the table, but the envelope wasn't empty.
Curious now, he turned the envelope over, tipping a small badge onto his palm. It took Harry a few seconds to realize what he was seeing.
"Quidditch captain?" he said. "I'm Quidditch captain?"
"Of course you are," McGonagall said briskly. "And do make sure that you assemble a good team this year, will you? We have a House Cup to win. Just let me know when you want to hold tryouts, I'll book the pitch with Madame Hooch."
The professor swept off. Harry turned over the badge in his hand. "I didn't even think about that," he said. "Captain!"
"Congratulations," came Dumbledore's voice. The Headmaster stood by the table, beaming down at Harry. "And well-deserved."
"Thank you, sir."
Dumbledore nodded. "Do you have a few minutes, Mr. Potter?"
"We'll go," Hermione said quickly, pulling a very quiet Ron to his feet. "See you upstairs, Harry."
When Ron and Hermione were gone, Dumbledore started slowly toward the doors of the Great Hall, and Harry fell in beside him. They walked out of the room and into the deserted corridors.
"How was your trip from St. Louis?" Dumbledore asked as they climbed a staircase.
"Good," Harry said. "We stayed at Christoff's estate last night."
Dumbledore stopped, mid-step. "Christoff, the Master of London?" he asked, sounding surprised.
Harry frowned at Dumbledore's reaction. "Yes."
Dumbledore considered this. "I have to say, I did not think that Ms. Blake would be interested in visiting a vampire in a strange city," he said as he began walking again.
"Christoff insisted," Harry said. "But it all worked out okay."
"Good, good." Dumbledore turned down the corridor that lead to Gryffindor tower. "And the days before that..."
So that was what this was about. Harry being a werewolf. "I'm not-- I mean, I spent the full moon as me. Not changing."
The sense of relief from the Headmaster was palpable, and made Harry extremely uncomfortable. Dumbledore was not supposed to be thrown by things like this. "I am glad to hear that," Dumbledore said lightly.
"Is that why Reece is here?" Harry blurted out. "Because of what you thought..." his voice trailed off as Dumbledore shook his head.
"No, young Mr. Trevelyan is here because he is a muggle-born wizard," Dumbledore said. There was no rebuke in his voice, but Harry felt like kicking himself for being so self-centred. "Did he tell you?"
"No, I just knew, at the station." Harry paused as the staircase they were on began to move across the tower. "Will things be okay, with him?"
"Things have been discussed with Madame Pomfrey," Dumbledore said. The staircase reversed course, and Harry and Dumbledore continued walking. "But we should discuss this later. Would you be able to come to my office tomorrow evening, after dinner?"
"Sure," Harry said immediately. Dumbledore was right, talking about Reece's lycanthropy out here, where the paintings and who knew what else could hear, was a bad idea.
Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "Until tomorrow, then."
Leaving Dumbledore behind, Harry headed down the corridor at a bit of a jog. Except for rushing around with Anita in the morning, Harry hadn't had the chance to move very fast for two days. His muscles ached for a good run, but it was almost curfew. Maybe tomorrow morning.
He got to the Fat Lady's painting at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, just as Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil came out. "Hi Harry," Parvati said over Lavender's giggles. "The password's Monk's Hood."
"Thanks," Harry said. As he ducked through the portrait hole, he heard Lavender and Parvati giggling madly.
Everyone was gathered in the common room, talking quickly. Harry had planned to go up to his room, but he was stopped every few feet by people congratulating him on being picked as Quidditch captain. It took him ten minutes to climb the steps to his dorm.
Closing the door behind him, Harry let out a groan of relief. He stumbled across the room to his bed. The cloak Elsa had given him lay over his trunk at the foot of his bed. Flipping open the lid, he pulled out his Firebolt and ran a hand over the handle. He'd missed his broom.
The dorm door opened a crack and Ron ducked inside. "It's a madhouse down there," he said, pushing the door shut with his shoulder. "Everything where you left it?"
"Yeah," Harry said, putting his broom on the bed. "I hope you got some good use out of it."
"I flew circles around the twins," Ron said, dropping onto his bed. "It's a great broom. You're really lucky."
There was something about Ron's tone that set off a warning bell in Harry's head. "Why's that?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice light. While he waited for Ron to answer, he dug his shrunken suitcase and books out of his pocket, and restored them to full size with an idle wave of his wand.
"It's just a good broom, is all," Ron said defensively, careful to not look at Harry
"Right." Harry opened his suitcase and removed two small boxes. He ran his thumb over the tiny blue ribbon on the smaller box. "Look, about Quidditch captain--"
"You deserve it, mate, really," Ron interrupted, sounding strained. "You've been on the team for years. When are you going to hold tryouts?"
"Ron..."
"Saturday's a good time, isn't it?" Ron kept on. "Think I can borrow the Firebolt for it?"
"Ron!" Harry shouted. "Just shut up a minute." He took a deep breath. "Will you be co-captain with me?"
Ron froze, halfway to reaching down to take off his shoe. Slowly, he raised his head, face blank. "What?" His face flushed red. "I'm not some kind of charity case that you need to--"
"What?" Harry exclaimed. "Charity? What the hell are you on about? This isn't charity!"
"The hell it's not!" Ron shouted, bouncing up. "You've seen me play, I'm nowhere near as good as you. I don't need you giving me your leftovers!"
Harry went hot, then ice-cold. He wanted to punch Ron right in the mouth, and instead he picked up his two boxes and marched out of the room.
He ran into Neville on the stairs outside the dorm. "Harry, is everything..."
"It's fine," Harry snapped. He shook his head, anger draining away. "It's nothing."
He walked past Neville without another word. The common room had emptied a bit, but Hermione was still sitting on the sofa by the fire, Crookshanks on her lap.
"We could hear shouting down here," she said as soon as Harry dropped to the sofa beside her. "Did something happen?"
"Nothing of importance," Harry said. Hermione didn't look convinced.
Crookshanks raised his head from Hermione's lap and yawned at Harry. Carefully, hoping to avoid a repeat of what happened with Hedwig and Freya, Harry ran his hand over the cat's head.
"Are you really all right?" Hermione asked. "You've been acting a little strange all day."
"I didn't get much sleep last night," Harry admitted. "It's just a change."
"Okay." Then, in a rush, she said, "You know that if you ever need to talk, about anything, I'll listen no matter what?"
Harry smiled tiredly. "I know, Hermione." He held up the small box with the blue ribbon. "I got this for you, when I found out you were Head Girl."
Hermione took the box from him. "What is it?" she asked as she looked it over.
"Open it and find out," Harry said, rather nervous now. In spite of what Jason said, what if she didn't like it after all?
Hermione undid the ribbon, then lifted the lid on the box. "Oh, Harry!" she said, smiling brilliantly. "It's beautiful!" She lifted the necklace out of the box and looked closer at the tiny silver pendant. "It's a little book!"
"I thought it was perfect for you," Harry said, uttering a silent thanks to Jason. "And I even got them to put your initials on the cover."
"Oh, thank you!" Hermione said, dropping the necklace back in the box and hugging Harry.
Hugging Hermione wasn't at all like hugging Anita. Hermione was softer, more delicate, and she smelled like flowers. Harry gave her a squeeze and pulled back. "I'm glad you like it," he said.
"I do." She smiled at him. "I'm so glad you're all right."
"Of course I am." Harry glanced around the room. "We'll talk tomorrow, about my summer, okay?"
"We'd better," Hermione said, a hint of her old bossiness returning. "I should get to bed. See you tomorrow."
"Good night," Harry called after her.
When she left, a lot of people seemed to take that as a signal to head up to their dorms. The common room quickly emptied, until Harry was the only one left, staring into the fire.
He wasn't the least bit tired, and it only had a little to do with not wanting to see Ron. He may not be the best player, Harry admitted as he slipped off his robe, slumping down in his trousers and shirt on the carpet in front of the fire. But he knows everything about Quidditch. He's a brilliant planner. Why is he being such an idiot?
Harry sighed. Too much had happened that day. He wondered how Reece was doing in Hufflepuff, how Jason and Anita were on the plane. They'd be landing in a few hours in St. Louis, then go back to their lives. Things keep happening, no matter how much we want them to stop.
The fire burned down as Harry sat there in the silent common room. After a while he closed his eyes and concentrated on his Occlumency, letting all of his crazy and mixed-up feelings slide away.
As his mind grew still, his senses became more alert. He heard the first soft step on the stairs, then shuffling steps. He opened his eyes, tensing as the person came closer.
"Harry?" Ginny said softly.
Harry turned around. "Ginny?" He looked at the grandfather clock on the wall. "It's really late."
"I know," she said, coming over and sitting next to him on the hearth rug. "You're never up at this hour."
"I can't sleep," he said, sliding over to let her get comfortable. She had on a worn robe, with a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Harry could smell the heat coming off of her, like flowers and warmth. She smelled so good.
"I can't sleep sometimes either," Ginny admitted. She stared into the fire. "Some nights, I'll come down here, and wait for morning." She cast a sidelong glance at Harry before he could come up with a response. "I heard what happened with Ron."
Harry bit back an exclamation. "It was just an idea," he said through gritted teeth.
"And a good one," Ginny said briskly. "Ron may be pants at being Keeper, but he can spot a Quidditch play a mile away."
"Not that it matters," Harry said glumly, staring back at the fire.
Ginny poked his arm, her fingers burning like coals on his skin. "Talk to him tomorrow," she advised. Then she frowned. "Although, I'd do it before he sees that necklace you gave Hermione."
"What are you talking about?"
Ginny tilted her head and gave him a look that set his heart pounding. "It's just a very nice necklace."
Harry reached behind him to the couch, and picked up the other box he'd brought back with him from St. Louis. "I was going to give this to you earlier, but you'd gone upstairs," he said. "Here."
Ginny took the box hesitantly. "You got me a present?" she said, surprised.
"Of course," Harry said. He owed Jason so much, for prodding him onto getting something for Ginny as well. "I hope you like it."
She bent over the box, which was as long as her hand and about as thick. Harry watched her as she undid the gold ribbon and lifted the lid. She touched the object inside delicately.
"It's a scarf," Harry said. "I thought.... well, I thought you'd like it."
Ginny drew the delicate dark blue silk out of the box. She let the scarf unfold as she lifted it in the air, running her fingers over the soft threads.
"Thank you," Ginny said softly. "No one... It's beautiful."
"I'm glad you like it," Harry said, not able to hold back a shiver. It was freezing in the common room, compared with the hot and humid St. Louis nights.
Ginny spotted the movement, and quickly put down the scarf. "Here," she said, sounding rather like her mother as she unwrapped the blanket from her shoulders. "You'll freeze to death, and then who's going to defeat Voldemort?"
Her voice wavered on the last word, and Harry caught her hands as she put the blanket around him. She met his gaze, eyes wide and a little startled.
"Why can't you sleep, sometimes?" Harry asked in a whisper.
Ginny opened her mouth, but no words came out. She pulled away from him and, scooping up her scarf, stood. "I'll see you tomorrow," she stammered, and ran for the stairs.
Harry sat for a long time, wrapped in the warm blanket that smelled like Ginny, staring at the darkened staircase.
...tbc
by Mhalachai
Note: We are changing things around a bit, now. We'll be with Harry for a bit. A word about the timeline of this story. We are AU From Half-Blood Prince, but at the same time we are using that book. Imagine, if you will, if an extra year was squeezed in there, and certain HBP events will unfold before our eyes...
~~~~~~~
Harry grabbed the kid's free hand and pulled him up, away from Anita and onto the train, before setting him firmly into the train corridor. Once the kid was safely in the train, Harry reached out and closed the carriage door.
Harry took a deep breath and relaxed against the wall. His heart was pounding with adrenaline, from the near-miss with the kid, and also the kiss he'd given Anita. For a moment, after he'd run his tongue over Anita's lower lip, he'd been half-expecting her to shoot him on the spot. But she'd smiled, and waved him off, and now he was on the train back to Hogwarts, leaving Anita far behind.
Harry let go of the train door handle and turned around. "You okay?" Harry asked the kid.
The boy nodded hard, brown eyes huge in his face. "Thank you," he said shyly, looking down. He seemed a little bit embarrassed. "I didn't mean to leave the train."
Harry waved it off. "You're here, though." He grinned at the boy. "Your first year?"
The boy nodded even harder. "Yes, sir."
Harry winced. That was the last thing he needed, to start the year going around as 'sir.' "Call me Harry," he said.
"I'm Reece," the boy said. "It's nice to meet you, Harry."
Harry wanted to ask Reece how long he'd been a werewolf, and if Reece's parents had been on the platform, but now wasn't the time for those questions, with a train full of curious witches and wizards. Instead, Harry clapped a hand on Reece's narrow shoulders. "You should find a carriage before they all fill up."
The boy's face lit up at the physical contact, and Harry belatedly remembered what it meant to a werewolf. Well, why not? Harry thought, annoyed at his own thoughts. He's a kid, and he's leaving his family behind. He shouldn't have to be alone.
Without another word, Reece darted down the corridor, squeezing past two tall boys effortlessly. Harry recognized the boys as Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, two Gryffindor in his own year.
"Harry!" Dean called. Harry started down the corridor toward them, passing several compartments already filled with chattering students. "Harry, how'd you do it?"
"Do what?" Harry asked, slightly confused. "You mean with Reece?"
Seamus guffawed. "Nice one," he said. "Good to have you back."
"Right." Harry looked between Dean and Seamus, waiting for one of them to tell him the joke, but they were not forthcoming. "Have you seen Ron or Hermione?"
Dean jerked his thumb over his shoulder. "A couple compartments down." Grinning, Dean pulled the still-laughing Seamus down the train.
What was that all about? Harry hoped he didn't have something on his face. Hopefully, Anita would have mentioned it.
He spotted a shock of red hair. Worries about Dean and Seamus forgotten, Harry pulled open the compartment door. Ron looked up from where he was fiddling with Pigwidgeon's cage beside to a sleeping Crookshanks. "Hey, Harry!"
"Hi, Ron," Harry said, grinning from ear to ear. He saw the other two people in the compartment. "Hey, Neville. Hi, Luna."
"Hi, Harry," Neville said. His toad Trevor was in a new carrier, probably due to the animal's frequent escape attempts. Next to Neville, Luna already had a magazine spread on her lap. She looked up at Harry, and smiled.
"So, you almost missed the train?" Ron said, straightening up. He had a bit of a smirk on his face.
"Almost, but not quite," Harry said, wondering what had gotten into everyone. He unbuttoned the cloak Elsa had given him, and dropped it on the seat. "We had to go to Diagon Alley this morning, and it was just a rush for time." He plopped on the seat next to Ron and stretched his legs out. "But got here in time."
"Just in time," Ron said. Harry noticed that Ron and Neville exchanged a glance.
"What is wrong with everyone?" Harry asked, frowning.
Luna sighed deeply and closed her magazine. "They watched you lick that woman and they're being silly about it," she said bluntly.
Harry bolted upright. "What?"
"He didn't lick her, he kissed her!" Ron contradicted. "Who was she, Harry?"
Harry felt his heart plummet to somewhere above his left kneecap. "What do you mean?" he stammered defensively, the colour rise to his cheeks.
"I just wanted to know who she was," Ron said, a frown creasing his forehead.
That must be what Seamus and Dean were talking about. Saying goodbye to Anita was supposed to be separate from his Hogwarts life, not giggled over by a bunch of teenagers. He opened his mouth to snap at Ron, but stopped himself in time. Ron didn't know why Anita was important to Harry, or even who she was. He was just asking.
"That was Anita," Harry said, sinking back to the seat. "The woman I stayed with over the summer, in St. Louis."
"Oh." Ron frowned harder. "But..."
"How did you meet her?" Neville asked curiously.
Harry hesitated. He hadn't really thought about what he was going to tell people, about his summer. Most of his acquaintances knew he stayed with his muggle relatives, or the Weasleys, and probably wouldn't question him, but not Ron or Hermione or Ginny. What was he going to tell them?
A loud hooting from above interrupted them. Harry looked up, to see Hedwig staring down at him from her cage on the upper rack.
"Hedwig," Harry said. He had never been so grateful to his owl before. But when he hopped up on the seat and reached up to pull down her cage, she snapped her beak at him, glaring balefully.
Harry pulled his hand back, uncertain. Could she sense the werewolf in him? Did wolves attack owls?
Slowly, Harry put his hand back toward her. "It's me, Hedwig," he said, trying to stay as still as possible on the swaying train. "I'm sorry I've been away so long."
The snowy owl let Harry put his fingers next to the cage, watching him suspiciously. When she didn't snap at him again, Harry unlatched the cage door and put his hand inside to stroke her head. She remained aloof for a moment, then submitted to his touch.
The panic in his chest eased. Hedwig still knew him, even if he'd changed a bit over the summer. He had always known she was a special owl. This just proved it.
After a few more scratches, and a promise to get her a juicy mouse when they got to Hogwarts, Harry secured the cage and climbed off the seat.
"Sorry about that," Harry said apologetically. Neville smiled uncertainly.
"She missed you something awful," Ron said. He shifted around so he was facing Harry. "Wouldn't let anyone touch her for a week after you left."
"Yeah," Harry muttered. "Thanks for watching her while I was gone."
Ron shrugged. "It was no trouble. She's a lot better behaved than Pig," he said easily, ignoring Pig's indignant hooting.
"Yeah." Harry glanced out the window, as the train yard was giving way to cityscape. Everything was cramped and packed and familiar, but so different than the wide-open spaces and empty stretches of land and road in St. Louis. I bet Nathaniel would really enjoy this, Harry thought fleetingly.
"So, Anita?" Ron pressed after a minute.
"Right." Harry moved around, trying to find a comfortable place to sit. "You know how strange my life can be?"
Ron's eyebrows went up at that question. "Was it that bad?"
"No. Well, yes, but not really. I mean, the Dursleys took me out sightseeing and then abandoned me in the countryside, but that was just the beginning." He proceeded to tell half the story, in as comical a fashion as he could manage. He told Ron and Luna and Neville about Anita and everyone in St. Louis, but left out the parts about werewolves, vampires, long-lost grandfathers and the arduer. It was a rather brief story.
Harry skipped over the part about Bellatrix without even a hitch in his tale. What Bellatrix had done to Anita, and how the witch had died, was a story for Ron and Hermione's ears only. Harry was friends with Neville and Luna, but they weren't close enough to hear that.
Jumping past Bellatrix put Harry right at the story of Nigel Spencer and his mysterious death. Since that incident had made the American newspapers, Harry had no qualms about explaining every last detail, including all about the muggle police and RPIT.
"You duelled two American Aurors in a police station and they let you walk right out?" Ron demanded, interrupting Harry's story.
Harry nodded. "We didn't know they were Aurors at the time, right?" he said, unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt and rolling up his sleeves. The train wasn't overheated, but he still felt a little warm. "But it all worked out in the end."
"I'll say," Ron said, looking slightly boggled. "And I thought that spending a week at Hermione's parents was excitement."
"Where is Hermione?" Harry asked.
"Off being Head Girl," Ron said. "She's not as bad as Percy was, though."
The look of disgust on Ron's face at the mention of Percy's name made Harry ask, "How is your family?"
Ron rubbed a hand through his hair, making it stand on end. "All right, I suppose," he said. "Dads got loads to do at work, with the new Minster and all. Bill's still in London, and Charlie's coming back soon. Mum's bustling around all the time, getting ready for Bill and Fleur's wedding. Say, you didn't see Mum on the platform, did you? She and the twins came to see me and Ginny off."
"No, I didn't," Harry said, disappointed. "We only just got here in time for the train. If I'd known she was there..."
"She was wondering how you were, this summer," Ron said. "Dumbledore only told her you were safe, but she still worried."
"I was just fine," Harry said, uncomfortable. "I'll send her a letter tomorrow, to let her know I wasn't eaten by vampires."
"Vampires?" Neville echoed.
"Of course," Luna said, nose buried in her magazine. "St. Louis is a hotbed of vampire activity. They even have an incubus, and a circus where you can go to see vampires and werewolves."
Ron rolled his eyes, used to Luna's eccentric talk. Harry, however, leaned across the compartment and pulled Luna's magazine down. "How do you know so much about St. Louis?" he asked, curious.
"Dad had a freelancer write an article on international magical hotspots, for the Quibbler," Luna explained. "St. Louis was second on the list in North America, right after Moose Jaw."
"What's in Moose Jaw?" Neville asked.
"Sasquatch." Luna tried to pull her magazine back up, but Harry wouldn't let it go. She glared at him with pale blue eyes. "I read the article before Dad published it."
"Really?" Harry had to smile at her. "I bet it didn't have the best stuff in it."
Luna wrinkled her nose. "Like what?"
"Like at the Circus of the Damned, they have a lamia," Harry said.
Luna clapped her hands over her mouth. "Really?" she squeaked. "They're supposed to be extinct!"
"Not so," Harry said. "Her name is Melanie. She's really freaky, and has a hell of an attitude. And fangs that she can hide if she wants."
Luna's eyes were shining with excitement. She had gotten really pretty over the summer, Harry thought suddenly. As he was looking at her, she must have realized something, because her face went blank and she started waving a finger at Harry, too excited to speak.
"What?" Harry asked.
Luna pulled her hand back and leaned in conspiratorially. "You stayed with that Anita? Anita Blake?"
"Yes," Harry said, frowning. He didn't like where this was going.
"Anita Blake, the necromancer?" Luna went on. "That was her, at the train station?"
"Wait, what?" Neville exclaimed. He'd gone pale as a sheet. "You stayed with a--" he broke off and bent over to Harry and Luna. "You stayed with a necromancer all summer, Harry?" he whispered.
"Yes," Harry said, voice tight. "So what?"
"They're dark wizards, all of them!" Neville said vehemently. "You actually stayed with one?"
Anger growing in his chest, Harry sat up straight and pressed his back against the seat. "Anita's not evil," he said coldly. His beast rumbled in his chest, unhappy at the insult to his Lupa. "She's a good person. We're not evil just because we know magic, and neither is she."
"I'm sorry, Harry, it's just that--" Neville's apology was cut off as the door to the compartment slid open.
"Harry!" Hermione squealed, smiling widely.
Harry jumped up. "Hi, Hermione," he said happily, spontaneously pulling her into a hug. She hugged him back, slender and vibrant in his arms.
"We thought you'd missed the train!" Hermione continued, pulling back. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "And what happened to you?"
"Happened to me?" Harry repeated. There was something different about Hermione. What was it? Not makeup...
"You got taller, and you have these neat clothes," she said, plucking at his sleeve. "Did you have a good summer?"
"Yes," Harry said honestly. "And I love what you've done with your hair." That was the difference. Her hair wasn't as long as it had been the previous spring.
Hermione smiled a little self-consciously. "Thanks."
"Would you mind letting the rest of us in, or are you planning on blocking the door all day?" came a voice from the corridor. Harry looked up from Hermione, to see Ginny Weasley leaning against the door.
However much Hermione had changed over the summer, it was nothing compared to Ginny. Harry couldn't figure out what it was; her hair was still long and tied up in a messy ponytail, she still had slightly worn robes, but the way she was looking at him, with a tiny smirk playing about the corner of her lips and a gleam in her brown eyes, made Harry forget everything he was doing, and just stare.
"Oy, mate, please stop staring at my sister," Ron's pained voice brought Harry back to earth. Feeling very self conscious, Harry stepped back to let Ginny into the compartment. She slid through the door and squeezed herself onto the seat between Luna and Neville.
Harry went back to his seat, which was now rather crowded as Hermione was sitting beside Ron, his arm over her shoulders. "What were you lot talking about?" Ginny asked briskly.
"Necromancers," Luna said immediately, and Harry shot her a glare.
"I'm not sure--"
"Is this about Anita Blake?" Hermione asked, surprised. "What about her?"
"She came to see Harry off," Ron told her.
"She came over to England with you, Harry?" Hermione asked. "Didn't that cause a problem?"
Harry turned his head. He knew that tone; had heard it far too often over the years. "What do you mean?" he asked warily.
"Didn't it cause a problem with London's vampires? After all, she's an American vampire's servant, isn't she?"
"How much digging did you do on her?" Harry demanded, prickling protectively. He remembered Neville's wide-eyed pronouncement about evil necromancers. If Hermione started in on that...
"Just what was available on the Internet," Hermione said quickly. "The tabloids seem to love her vampire, Jean-Claude. They have a lot of spec-- speculation on what they get up to." Hermione blushed.
"What kind of stuff were you reading?" he asked.
"Just muggle newspaper articles," she said. "Was it right? Is she a human servant?"
"What is a human servant?" Ginny asked. "Is it like a slave?"
"No," Harry said, sitting up. He had a chance to get rid of everyone's misconceptions about Anita and vampires. Who better to tell them about vampires than him? Casting a quick look at Ginny, Harry said, "Listen, this is the way it works..."
~*~
"Then the book is wrong!" Harry exclaimed.
"It's the definitive text on dark creatures!" Hermione retorted. "It's been in use at Hogwarts for twenty years!"
"Then a whole generation of wizards are working off information that it wrong!" Harry gestured toward the defence against the dark arts textbook in Hermione's lap. "A vampire doesn't get stronger with only age. Yes, an older vampire is likely to be more powerful, but that doesn't guarantee that they become a master!"
"But how can you know?" Hermione demanded.
Harry pulled off his glasses, trying to come up with the words. "A vampire in St. Louis, Meng Die," he said after a moment. "She's only about two hundred years old, but she's a powerful master. Give her another thirty years, and she'd be powerful enough to hold a city on her own."
"You mean control over other vampires?" Neville asked, concentrating intently on the conversation.
"Yes!" Harry gestured emphatically with his glasses. "There is another vampire, I know, Damian. He's over a thousand years old, and he'll never be a master. We don't know why a vampire becomes a master, or why not."
"But there has to be a reason!" Hermione said, her voice rising in despair. "Ron, what do you think?"
Ron looked up from where he was balancing his wand on one finger. "I think we're not even at school yet, and the lot of you are already sounding like you're in classes," he said. "If I have to deal with this all year, I might go mad."
"You mean madder," Hermione said.
Ron winked at her. "Wouldn't life be boring if I wasn't?" he said, and Hermione smiled brilliantly at him.
Across the compartment, Harry saw Luna whispering in Ginny's ear, then they both giggled.
"But Harry," Neville said, still frowning, "What does it mean to us if a vampire's not a master?"
"You mean, like if we were attacked?" Harry asked, slipping his glasses back on. Neville nodded. "Well, it might be easier to fight them off... weaker vampires won't have an animal to call, and can't control other vampires."
"Enough," Ron ordered. "We're not going to be attacked by vampires on the way to Hogwarts. Here comes the trolley."
Outside the compartment, a plump elderly witch stopped the sweet cart as Harry leapt to his feet and pulled the door open. "What does everyone want?" he asked. "My treat." Ron began to protest, but Harry cut him off. "You looked after Hedwig all summer, it's the least I can do."
Ron looked as if he was going to object, but Hermione squeezed his hand.
Luna and Neville called out their orders, and Harry handed them their sweets. Hermione asked for a Chocolate Frog, and poked Ron in the side until he asked grudgingly for a cauldron cake and some Bernie Bott's Every-Flavour Beans.
"Ginny?" Harry asked.
She shrugged. "I'm not hungry, but thanks."
"Right." Harry turned back to the witch. "Four chocolate frogs, and a few more cauldron cakes..." He stared at the cart. "Do you have anything that isn't sweet on there?"
"Of course, dear," the witch said. "Sandwiches."
"Great, I'll have three," Harry said. Amused, the witch gave Harry his order. He paid her, and, arms loaded with food, turned back to his seat.
He had just dropped the food to the cushion when a small black blur darted through the open door and through his legs. Crookshanks woke suddenly, and hissed menacingly at the area under Harry's seat where the creature was cowering.
"It's a tiny cat!" Ginny exclaimed as Hermione gathered up her hissing familiar. "Poor thing!"
"I'll get it," Harry said. He dropped to his knees, and reached a hand under the seat. His fingers encountered soft fur, then he felt needle-sharp claws rake over his skin. "Ouch!" he exclaimed, jerking back.
"You're scaring it!" Luna said.
"It's returning the favour!" Harry clenched his teeth and bent back over, keeping his face and hand safely out of the creature's reach. A tiny handful of black fur, hardly lighter than the shadows under the seat, surrounded a pair of yellow eyes. The little cat hissed at him.
Carefully, Harry put his bleeding hand out slowly toward the cat. His hand was almost within its reach, when it hissed and reached out a paw to slash him again. Harry pulled his hand back as fast as he could.
"All right, that's it," he declared, sitting back on his heel. "Hand me a sandwich."
"Excuse me?" came a tiny voice from the corridor. Harry looked up to see Reece hiding behind the door. "I think my cat ran in here?"
"The claws down there belong to you?" Harry asked. It was sort of funny, in a way, that a werewolf had a cat as a pet.
Reece nodded miserably. "She got out of her carrier, and I think she got scared."
"Harry!" Hermione chastised. "She's in here," she told Reece kindly.
Reece edged out from around the door, eyes flying around the compartment. Harry could see his nostrils flaring. He must be smelling everyone, Harry realized.
"Thank you," Reece whispered. He knelt by the seat and held his hand out to the cat. "Come here, Freya."
"Who names a cat Freya?" Ron muttered. Reece winced at the comment, but didn't look up.
"The same kind of person who call an owl Hedwig," Harry said. He shot Ron a glare as the first year pulled his unhappy cat from under the seat.
Reece cradled the cat against his chest. "Sorry to bother you," he said.
"It's okay," Harry said. Reese was acting too submissive for Harry's liking. Like we're scary! he thought indignantly. "Would you like to meet an owl named Hedwig?"
"A real owl?" Reece asked, eyes growing large. "I've only seen one up close."
"The one who brought you your Hogwart's letter?" Harry guessed, going up on the seat to bring down Hedwig's cage.
Reece nodded. "My Ul--" the boy clapped his mouth shut and went a deep red. "My uncle, he thought it was crazy," he hastily amended.
The boy was a quick thinker, Harry had to give him that. "Maybe it was," Harry said, winking. "Half the Hogwarts owls are." Harry set Hedwig's cage on the empty seat, and knelt on the floor, pressing up against Hermione's legs.
"Wow," Reece said, mouth half open as he stared at Hedwig. "She's really pretty."
Hedwig opened one eye and stared at the boy.
"You'll soon get used to owls," Ginny said. "They carry the post, flying all over Hogwarts."
"Yes, ma'am," Reece whispered.
Harry rolled his eyes. "What did I tell you about that? Guys, this is Reece." He quickly introduced everyone to Reece. The boy nodded, but now that he had his cat back, it seemed his mind was on a different matter.
"Did you really win the Tri-Wizard Tournament?" Reece blurted out when Harry was done.
Harry felt his insides seize up. "Yes, I did," Harry said when he found his voice. "Why do you ask?"
Reece shifted his cat to one hand and dug into his pocket for something. "That's what it says on the card," he said apologetically, holding out a small Chocolate Frog card.
"On the card? What card?" Harry asked, confused. He took the card from Reece and looked down to see his own face. Harry's jaw dropped.
"You didn't know?" Neville asked. "They came out in July."
"Jul-- What? How? Why?"
The picture of Harry on the card smiled, looking around nervously. It was the same photograph that had appeared in the Quibbler in Harry's fifth year, with his interview about Voldemort.
Horrified, Harry flipped the card over.
Harry James Potter, currently a student at Hogwarts
Harry Potter banished He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the age of 15 months, being the only known survivor of the Killing Curse. Winner of the Tri-Wizard Tournament, battled You-Know-Who at the Battle of the Ministry. He is the Gryffindor Seeker in his final year at Hogwarts. Hobbies include Quidditch and crochet.
"I've never crocheted in my life!" Harry said, indignant. He looked around. Everyone was watching him warily.
"But someone tried to kill you when you were a baby?" Reece asked. "The guy who doesn't have a name?"
Harry swallowed his appalled outrage. "He's got a name," Harry snapped. "It's Voldemort."
"Oh." Reece fidgeted. "Can I have the card back? The other kids in my compartment don't believe that you're in the train."
"Brilliant." Harry handed Reece back the card. "You go tell them I'm here, and this card is utter rubbish!"
"Right." Reece grabbed the card from between Harry's fingers, not looking him in the face, and bolted out of the compartment.
Harry put Hedwig's cage back on the upper rack, so vigorous in his movements that the owl protested, then he dropped back to his seat and buried his head in his hands. "I can't believe this!"
"Why not?" Luna asked. "You defeated You-Know-Who, didn't you?"
"Yes, but--"
"And you won the tournament, and you fought him in the Ministry."
"But so did everyone else here!" Harry exclaimed. "Putting me on this card is the stupidest thing ever! I'm not a great wizard, I'm just lucky! If you guys didn't help me..." Harry took a deep breath and tried to calm down. "I shouldn't be on that card any more than anyone else in this compartment."
"Well, it is an act of defiance, isn't it?" Hermione said, going beet red. "Against Voldemort."
"What?"
"It says that the people who make the cards think that Voldemort and all this ideas are rubbish," Ginny said. Unlike Hermione, her voice wasn't wavering. She looked steadily at Harry, an odd light in her eyes. "They're saying that you're a great wizard because you stand up to him."
"And if you can, we all can," Neville said quietly.
Harry stared out the window, at the passing countryside. No matter what everyone said, it didn't make any sense for anyone to put him on a Chocolate Frog card. They were supposed to be for the greatest wizards and witches ever, like Dumbledore. Not him.
He didn't feel like a hero.
"So, Neville," Ron said uncertainly, breaking the unpleasant silence. "Got any new plants this year?"
~*~
Harry stepped off the train, drawing in lungfuls of the crisp air. Over the heads of the students, he spotted a large, hulking shape trudging down the platform. "Firs' years! Firs' years, over 'ere!"
"Hagrid!" Harry called, waving his arm over his head. Hagrid spotted him, and waved back. Grinning, Harry walked beside Ron and Neville down the platform toward the waiting carriages.
"Want any carriage in particular?" Ginny asked, walking beside Luna and Hermione ahead of the boys.
"They're all creepy," Neville said under his breath.
Harry agreed. The carriages were hitched to Thestrals, ghostly black reptilian-looking horses. The horses were invisible to anyone who hadn't seen death. Harry had been able to see them since after Cedric died.
"Come on, then," Ginny called, leading them on. Harry glanced around in the dying light, at the other students moving toward the carriages. He recognized people from every house. Three carriages over, Harry spotted a flash of blond hair. Malfoy.
Harry frowned as he got into the carriage behind Ron. He hadn't really spared Malfoy much of a thought during the train ride, or over the summer. But Bellatrix Lestrange was his aunt, Harry remembered. I watched his aunt be eaten by a pack of werewolves, and I didn't even think about Malfoy.
Ron squeezed into the carriage and closed the door. "Are we going to break this thing?" he asked as he squished down beside Hermione.
"Probably not," Hermione said, although she was looking around rather nervously as the carriage began to move creakily.
Luna sat across from Harry, watching him with careful eyes. “What?" Harry asked.
"Your glasses are different," she said.
"I know that."
"What happened to the old ones?"
"Someone stepped on them."
"I like these ones better," Luna said frankly. "They make your eyes look greener." Ginny elbowed Luna in the ribs.
Not quite sure how to respond, Harry looked out the window. The carriage rattled over a hill, and Harry caught sight of the turrets of Hogwarts castle in the distance. A tension in his chest eased. He was almost home.
The six teenagers spoke of light matters, mostly Neville's summer vacation in Calais, as the carriages drew closer to school. The first year students, including Reece, were probably all getting into the boats that very moment, getting ready to float across the lake to the castle. Harry remembered his first view of the castle, back when things were so much more simple, when everything bad was behind him and everything good in front of him.
Now, I'm not going to see Anita or Nathaniel or Jason again for a very long time, Harry thought, feeling his good mood waver. Anita's on the plane to America, and Jason's probably holding her hand and talking her through the ride. They'll get home, and Micah and Nathaniel will be there to pick them up, and take them home to where Damian is. A lump rose in Harry's throat, and he had to swallow hard. Will they even miss me?
Harry recovered by the time that the carriage pulled up in front of the school. Harry joked with Ron and Neville as they all made their way to the Great Hall, but his heart wasn't really in it. I already miss them.
The Great Hall was just as Harry remembered. Hundreds of candles floated in the air, gleaming off the empty golden plates that lined the four long House tables. The ceiling above, charmed to look like the night sky, showed the stars peeking out of the twilight.
Luna gave Ginny a little hug, then separated from the Gryffindors and headed to the Ravenclaw table. Harry watched her go, entranced by sway of Luna's blonde hair hanging down her back, and walked right into Dean Thomas. Dean shoved Harry back, and, laughing, they sat down at the Gryffindor table.
Once seated, Harry looked at the front teacher's table. Dumbledore was leaning back in his chair, surveying the students with a slight smile. When his eyes met Harry's, Harry nodded firmly. Dumbledore smiled back.
Harry slid onto the bench beside Hermione, protesting when she slapped his shoulder for obstructing her view of the front table. "Move!"
"Why?" Harry asked as he leaned over his plate. "What are you looking for?"
"Our new teacher!" she said. "We need someone to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, don't we?"
"Yes, because that always goes so well," Ron groused.
"There!" Hermione said. "No, don't look!" she exclaimed as Ron and Harry both turned their heads to see.
A balding elderly wizard sat between Snape and Professor Flitwick at the head table. He had a huge, drooping blonde moustache, and looked rather like a deflated balloon, as if he had lost a large amount of weight in a short time.
"That has to be him!" Hermione hissed.
"Doesn't look like much, does he?" Ron said. "Wonder who he is?"
"Don't know. I hope the Sorting goes smoothly," Harry said, rubbing his stomach. His new robes felt scratchy under his hand. "I'm starving."
"Did they not feed you over in America?" Ron asked.
Harry thought of all the food he'd eaten over the summer, and snorted. "No, they fed me too much. I got used to eating."
The last of the upper-year students arrived, and as the noise in the hall grew, Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, floated past, greeting the students. "Hi Nick," Ron called.
"Mr. Weasley," Nick said, coming to a stop by the table. "Your last year, correct? Are you planning as memorable exit as your brothers?"
Two years before, the twins had left Hogwarts in a hail of fireworks and magic. That night was still talked about fondly in the halls of Hogwarts. Now, Ron shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Probably not," he muttered.
Nick nodded and floated away, head wobbling dangerously on his almost severed neck.
Ron glowered at his empty plate. Harry wanted to say something to him, but what? He hadn't seen Ron all summer, and didn't know what could be bothering him. Maybe Hermione would know.
The main doors to the Great Hall banged open, and all talking ceased. Professor McGonagall marched in, leading the group of first years. Their awed faces shone in the candlelight. Only seven years before, Harry had been in their shoes, terrified that he'd get sent back to the Dursleys. He knew how they felt.
Craning his head, Harry finally spotted Reece near the back of the group. The boy saw Harry, and gave a tiny wave. Harry waved back.
"Looks like you made a friend," Ginny said, leaning over the table. "I wonder where he'll get sorted."
"Gryffindor," Harry said immediately. Ginny gave him a look. "Well, why not?"
"You can never tell," Hermione said practically. "The Sorting Hat has its own logic."
"What do you think it'll sing about this year?" Neville asked. "Houses? Or the danger we're all in, like it has for the past two years?"
"Probably both," Ron said. "Makes you wonder how it knows what's going on."
"It does live in Dumbledore office," Hermione pointed out, as the first years gathered arround the Sorting stool.
"But it does seem to have a mind of its own," Harry said, growing slightly uneasy. The Hat had a peek into everyone's head when they were sorted. Was it looking for anything besides where to sort a student?
As McGonagall put the tattered Hat on the stool, Harry looked across the table at Ginny. She was staring at the Hat, a frown on her face. Unbidden, Harry remembered something that Mr. Weasley had said after Ginny was enchanted by Tom Riddle's diary. Never trust anything if you can't see where it keeps its brain.
The Hat began to sing.
~*~
When the song was over, everyone dutifully applauded the Hat. "Good song," Dean said idly. "Better than last year." Harry snickered.
Hermione hushed them as Professor McGonagall unrolled her list of names, and called the first student up to be sorted.
"Al-Adib, Sara!"
~*~
They were almost done with the sorting. Harry's stomach was twisting, and he couldn't wait for the food to arrive. Too many sweets, he thought unhappily. He hadn't eaten that much sugar in a long time, and certainly not since he had been in St. Louis. Either the werewolf in me doesn't like it, or I'm too old to eat like that.
"Trevelyan, Reece!"
Harry jerked his head up as Reece squared his shoulders and marched up the steps. So far, the new students were pretty evenly split between the four houses, with only three students left. "Come on," Harry said under his breath.
He couldn't explain how, but he was almost certain that Reece would be sorted into Gryffindor. Harry was there, and Remus had been in Gryffindor. The house animal, a lion, was almost like a wolf, right?
Professor McGonagall dropped the Hat over Reece's head. Everyone waited while the Hat thought, twitching its pointed top in the air. After a full minute, the Hat shouted, "Hufflepuff!"
What? Harry was jarred, but he quickly recovered and clapped as loudly as the Hufflepuffs, as Reece slid off the stood and ran toward the Hufflepuff table. His face was shining as his new Housemates accepted him at the table.
Shows what I know, Harry thought ruefully. He shook his head as the next sorting began.
"I'm sure the Hat made the right choice," Ginny said., drawing his attention.
"Yeah, probably," Harry said. He smiled at her, and was rewarded as she smiled back. When did she get so pretty? Harry wondered, dazed. Everyone got prettier over the summer, but Ginny and Luna in particular.
After the last student was sorted into Slytherin, Dumbledore stood. The low murmur of voices stopped immediately.
"Welcome back to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "I have a few words before we eat. First, I would like to introduce our new professor." He turned and held out a hand to the new wizard at the table, who stood. "This is Professor Slughorn, who has been kind enough to agree to take up his old post as Potions professor this year."
"Potions?" Harry repeated, not believing his ears. Snape was right there, sitting at the table. If Slughorn was teaching Potions...
"Professor Snape will be moving to the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," Dumbledore continued over the growing roar.
"What?" Ron exclaimed in a loud voice. Luckily for him, everyone else was talking at once, so no one heard him.
Harry, however, had snapped his mouth shut. He glared at Snape, anger and something very close to disgust roiling in his gut. Snape was as smug as Harry had ever seen him, the smarmy bastard.
"Is it too late to drop Defence?" Ron asked Hermione. "I swear, I can't stand a year of Snape. Dropping potions was the best idea I ever had!"
"You didn't drop Potions, Ron, you didn't get a high enough OWL grade," Hermione snapped, dropping her voice as Dumbledore held up his hands for silence.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said. "I know you will all make Professor Slugworth feel right at home. Now, a few more words." His face became grave, and a chill echoed around the room. "The Forbidden Forest is off limits to all students. And no one is to leave school grounds without permission."
Dumbledore scanned the suddenly alert student body. "The school and grounds will be patrolled by several Aurors this year, for your protection. They will not interfere with classes. If you have any concerns, please talk with your head of House."
"At least it's not Dementors," Harry muttered, wincing as Hermione kicked his ankle. Still, Harry wasn't impressed. What defence could a few Aurors provide against Death Eaters, if they got onto the grounds?
"And now, I am sure your minds and bellies will rest easier if they are full." Dumbledore clapped his hands, and the tables were suddenly loaded with food. "Enjoy!"
The Gryffindors jumped to fill their plates, but Harry sat still, deep in thought. "Earth to Harry," Ron said after a minute, his mouth full. "Still thinking about Snape?"
"Huh?" Harry asked, blinking hard. "No." Actually, Harry's thoughts had been occupied entirely with the stupidity of the American Aurors he had duelled over the summer, and on Ministry incompetence in general. "Pass the meat, would you?"
The smell of the roast reawakened Harry's appetite. He speared four slices of the rarest-cooked meat he could find, then reached for the lone platter of cooked greens.
"Are you feeling all right, Harry?" Hermione asked, concerned.
"Yeah, why?" Harry asked as he sliced into his dinner.
Hermione eyed his plate. "You used to have potatoes all the time," she pointed out.
Harry looked at the tureen of mashed potatoes sitting in front of Neville. The white surface was flecked with green bits of parsley, and Harry felt his throat constrict. "I'm fine, really," he said, going back to his slightly bloody meat.
His eating habits hadn't changed that much, had they? Harry chewed his beef thoughtfully, wishing it wasn't cooked so well. The greens were also overcooked, making him long for that last dinner at Anita's house, where Nathaniel had made everyone almost-raw steaks, with lots of fresh vegetables and corn and salad. Stripper food, Jason had called it.
Harry had a hard time swallowing his mouthful, as he thought of St. Louis. Suddenly, all he wanted was to talk to Damian one last time, to be eating the food Nathaniel made, listening to Micah talk to Anita.
I'm can't be bloody homesick for a place that isn't even mine! Harry told himself angrily. They said I could go back, but not so soon.
He didn't realize that Hermione had spoken until she put her hand on his arm. "Are you okay?" she asked quietly.
He made himself nod. "Of course," he said with a cheerfulness he didn't feel. "I'm back, aren't I?"
She didn't look convinced. "This isn't about Snape?"
"No," Harry said. "I'll deal with him. Maybe Ron's right, and we can just drop Defence."
"Not now!" Hermione whispered. "Not with You-Know-Who still out there!"
"I'll think about it," Harry said, looking back at his plate. He took a deep breath "It's just that nothing is turning out the way I wanted it."
Reece was in Hufflepuff; Snape was teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, Voldemort was probably being evil somewhere... None of it was right.
Welcome back, Harry thought bitterly, and speared a chunk of beef on his fork.
~*~
"I'll see you upstairs!" Ginny said as everyone scrambled to their feet after the conclusion of the School Song. "I've got to be Prefect for a bit... First year Gryffindors! This way!"
With the other prefects, Ginny herded the brand-new Gryffindors toward the door. Dean and Neville and Seamus left soon after, arguing about something to do with Neville's latest plant, leaving Harry, Hermione and Ron were left at the table.
"I should go upstairs," Hermione said reluctantly. "In case anyone needs to talk to me."
"No rest of the Head Girl, huh?" Harry asked, leaning his elbow on the table and grinning at her.
"It's a big responsibility!" Hermione said. She looked over Harry's shoulder and sat up straight. "Hello, Professor McGonagall!"
"Oh, hello, Miss Granger," the head of Gryffindor said, looking slightly frazzled. "Mr. Potter, it's good to see you in one piece."
"Pardon?" Harry asked, looking up at the professor. "Is something wrong?"
"No, but next time you go traipsing off to America, please let me know. The poor owl barely made it back in one piece." She handed a tattered-looking envelope to Harry. He took it, frowning.
"I didn't think about that," he said, ripping it open. He pulled out the letter and set it on the table, but the envelope wasn't empty.
Curious now, he turned the envelope over, tipping a small badge onto his palm. It took Harry a few seconds to realize what he was seeing.
"Quidditch captain?" he said. "I'm Quidditch captain?"
"Of course you are," McGonagall said briskly. "And do make sure that you assemble a good team this year, will you? We have a House Cup to win. Just let me know when you want to hold tryouts, I'll book the pitch with Madame Hooch."
The professor swept off. Harry turned over the badge in his hand. "I didn't even think about that," he said. "Captain!"
"Congratulations," came Dumbledore's voice. The Headmaster stood by the table, beaming down at Harry. "And well-deserved."
"Thank you, sir."
Dumbledore nodded. "Do you have a few minutes, Mr. Potter?"
"We'll go," Hermione said quickly, pulling a very quiet Ron to his feet. "See you upstairs, Harry."
When Ron and Hermione were gone, Dumbledore started slowly toward the doors of the Great Hall, and Harry fell in beside him. They walked out of the room and into the deserted corridors.
"How was your trip from St. Louis?" Dumbledore asked as they climbed a staircase.
"Good," Harry said. "We stayed at Christoff's estate last night."
Dumbledore stopped, mid-step. "Christoff, the Master of London?" he asked, sounding surprised.
Harry frowned at Dumbledore's reaction. "Yes."
Dumbledore considered this. "I have to say, I did not think that Ms. Blake would be interested in visiting a vampire in a strange city," he said as he began walking again.
"Christoff insisted," Harry said. "But it all worked out okay."
"Good, good." Dumbledore turned down the corridor that lead to Gryffindor tower. "And the days before that..."
So that was what this was about. Harry being a werewolf. "I'm not-- I mean, I spent the full moon as me. Not changing."
The sense of relief from the Headmaster was palpable, and made Harry extremely uncomfortable. Dumbledore was not supposed to be thrown by things like this. "I am glad to hear that," Dumbledore said lightly.
"Is that why Reece is here?" Harry blurted out. "Because of what you thought..." his voice trailed off as Dumbledore shook his head.
"No, young Mr. Trevelyan is here because he is a muggle-born wizard," Dumbledore said. There was no rebuke in his voice, but Harry felt like kicking himself for being so self-centred. "Did he tell you?"
"No, I just knew, at the station." Harry paused as the staircase they were on began to move across the tower. "Will things be okay, with him?"
"Things have been discussed with Madame Pomfrey," Dumbledore said. The staircase reversed course, and Harry and Dumbledore continued walking. "But we should discuss this later. Would you be able to come to my office tomorrow evening, after dinner?"
"Sure," Harry said immediately. Dumbledore was right, talking about Reece's lycanthropy out here, where the paintings and who knew what else could hear, was a bad idea.
Dumbledore smiled at Harry. "Until tomorrow, then."
Leaving Dumbledore behind, Harry headed down the corridor at a bit of a jog. Except for rushing around with Anita in the morning, Harry hadn't had the chance to move very fast for two days. His muscles ached for a good run, but it was almost curfew. Maybe tomorrow morning.
He got to the Fat Lady's painting at the entrance to the Gryffindor common room, just as Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil came out. "Hi Harry," Parvati said over Lavender's giggles. "The password's Monk's Hood."
"Thanks," Harry said. As he ducked through the portrait hole, he heard Lavender and Parvati giggling madly.
Everyone was gathered in the common room, talking quickly. Harry had planned to go up to his room, but he was stopped every few feet by people congratulating him on being picked as Quidditch captain. It took him ten minutes to climb the steps to his dorm.
Closing the door behind him, Harry let out a groan of relief. He stumbled across the room to his bed. The cloak Elsa had given him lay over his trunk at the foot of his bed. Flipping open the lid, he pulled out his Firebolt and ran a hand over the handle. He'd missed his broom.
The dorm door opened a crack and Ron ducked inside. "It's a madhouse down there," he said, pushing the door shut with his shoulder. "Everything where you left it?"
"Yeah," Harry said, putting his broom on the bed. "I hope you got some good use out of it."
"I flew circles around the twins," Ron said, dropping onto his bed. "It's a great broom. You're really lucky."
There was something about Ron's tone that set off a warning bell in Harry's head. "Why's that?" Harry asked, trying to keep his voice light. While he waited for Ron to answer, he dug his shrunken suitcase and books out of his pocket, and restored them to full size with an idle wave of his wand.
"It's just a good broom, is all," Ron said defensively, careful to not look at Harry
"Right." Harry opened his suitcase and removed two small boxes. He ran his thumb over the tiny blue ribbon on the smaller box. "Look, about Quidditch captain--"
"You deserve it, mate, really," Ron interrupted, sounding strained. "You've been on the team for years. When are you going to hold tryouts?"
"Ron..."
"Saturday's a good time, isn't it?" Ron kept on. "Think I can borrow the Firebolt for it?"
"Ron!" Harry shouted. "Just shut up a minute." He took a deep breath. "Will you be co-captain with me?"
Ron froze, halfway to reaching down to take off his shoe. Slowly, he raised his head, face blank. "What?" His face flushed red. "I'm not some kind of charity case that you need to--"
"What?" Harry exclaimed. "Charity? What the hell are you on about? This isn't charity!"
"The hell it's not!" Ron shouted, bouncing up. "You've seen me play, I'm nowhere near as good as you. I don't need you giving me your leftovers!"
Harry went hot, then ice-cold. He wanted to punch Ron right in the mouth, and instead he picked up his two boxes and marched out of the room.
He ran into Neville on the stairs outside the dorm. "Harry, is everything..."
"It's fine," Harry snapped. He shook his head, anger draining away. "It's nothing."
He walked past Neville without another word. The common room had emptied a bit, but Hermione was still sitting on the sofa by the fire, Crookshanks on her lap.
"We could hear shouting down here," she said as soon as Harry dropped to the sofa beside her. "Did something happen?"
"Nothing of importance," Harry said. Hermione didn't look convinced.
Crookshanks raised his head from Hermione's lap and yawned at Harry. Carefully, hoping to avoid a repeat of what happened with Hedwig and Freya, Harry ran his hand over the cat's head.
"Are you really all right?" Hermione asked. "You've been acting a little strange all day."
"I didn't get much sleep last night," Harry admitted. "It's just a change."
"Okay." Then, in a rush, she said, "You know that if you ever need to talk, about anything, I'll listen no matter what?"
Harry smiled tiredly. "I know, Hermione." He held up the small box with the blue ribbon. "I got this for you, when I found out you were Head Girl."
Hermione took the box from him. "What is it?" she asked as she looked it over.
"Open it and find out," Harry said, rather nervous now. In spite of what Jason said, what if she didn't like it after all?
Hermione undid the ribbon, then lifted the lid on the box. "Oh, Harry!" she said, smiling brilliantly. "It's beautiful!" She lifted the necklace out of the box and looked closer at the tiny silver pendant. "It's a little book!"
"I thought it was perfect for you," Harry said, uttering a silent thanks to Jason. "And I even got them to put your initials on the cover."
"Oh, thank you!" Hermione said, dropping the necklace back in the box and hugging Harry.
Hugging Hermione wasn't at all like hugging Anita. Hermione was softer, more delicate, and she smelled like flowers. Harry gave her a squeeze and pulled back. "I'm glad you like it," he said.
"I do." She smiled at him. "I'm so glad you're all right."
"Of course I am." Harry glanced around the room. "We'll talk tomorrow, about my summer, okay?"
"We'd better," Hermione said, a hint of her old bossiness returning. "I should get to bed. See you tomorrow."
"Good night," Harry called after her.
When she left, a lot of people seemed to take that as a signal to head up to their dorms. The common room quickly emptied, until Harry was the only one left, staring into the fire.
He wasn't the least bit tired, and it only had a little to do with not wanting to see Ron. He may not be the best player, Harry admitted as he slipped off his robe, slumping down in his trousers and shirt on the carpet in front of the fire. But he knows everything about Quidditch. He's a brilliant planner. Why is he being such an idiot?
Harry sighed. Too much had happened that day. He wondered how Reece was doing in Hufflepuff, how Jason and Anita were on the plane. They'd be landing in a few hours in St. Louis, then go back to their lives. Things keep happening, no matter how much we want them to stop.
The fire burned down as Harry sat there in the silent common room. After a while he closed his eyes and concentrated on his Occlumency, letting all of his crazy and mixed-up feelings slide away.
As his mind grew still, his senses became more alert. He heard the first soft step on the stairs, then shuffling steps. He opened his eyes, tensing as the person came closer.
"Harry?" Ginny said softly.
Harry turned around. "Ginny?" He looked at the grandfather clock on the wall. "It's really late."
"I know," she said, coming over and sitting next to him on the hearth rug. "You're never up at this hour."
"I can't sleep," he said, sliding over to let her get comfortable. She had on a worn robe, with a thin blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Harry could smell the heat coming off of her, like flowers and warmth. She smelled so good.
"I can't sleep sometimes either," Ginny admitted. She stared into the fire. "Some nights, I'll come down here, and wait for morning." She cast a sidelong glance at Harry before he could come up with a response. "I heard what happened with Ron."
Harry bit back an exclamation. "It was just an idea," he said through gritted teeth.
"And a good one," Ginny said briskly. "Ron may be pants at being Keeper, but he can spot a Quidditch play a mile away."
"Not that it matters," Harry said glumly, staring back at the fire.
Ginny poked his arm, her fingers burning like coals on his skin. "Talk to him tomorrow," she advised. Then she frowned. "Although, I'd do it before he sees that necklace you gave Hermione."
"What are you talking about?"
Ginny tilted her head and gave him a look that set his heart pounding. "It's just a very nice necklace."
Harry reached behind him to the couch, and picked up the other box he'd brought back with him from St. Louis. "I was going to give this to you earlier, but you'd gone upstairs," he said. "Here."
Ginny took the box hesitantly. "You got me a present?" she said, surprised.
"Of course," Harry said. He owed Jason so much, for prodding him onto getting something for Ginny as well. "I hope you like it."
She bent over the box, which was as long as her hand and about as thick. Harry watched her as she undid the gold ribbon and lifted the lid. She touched the object inside delicately.
"It's a scarf," Harry said. "I thought.... well, I thought you'd like it."
Ginny drew the delicate dark blue silk out of the box. She let the scarf unfold as she lifted it in the air, running her fingers over the soft threads.
"Thank you," Ginny said softly. "No one... It's beautiful."
"I'm glad you like it," Harry said, not able to hold back a shiver. It was freezing in the common room, compared with the hot and humid St. Louis nights.
Ginny spotted the movement, and quickly put down the scarf. "Here," she said, sounding rather like her mother as she unwrapped the blanket from her shoulders. "You'll freeze to death, and then who's going to defeat Voldemort?"
Her voice wavered on the last word, and Harry caught her hands as she put the blanket around him. She met his gaze, eyes wide and a little startled.
"Why can't you sleep, sometimes?" Harry asked in a whisper.
Ginny opened her mouth, but no words came out. She pulled away from him and, scooping up her scarf, stood. "I'll see you tomorrow," she stammered, and ran for the stairs.
Harry sat for a long time, wrapped in the warm blanket that smelled like Ginny, staring at the darkened staircase.
...tbc