Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling owns it all and rightfully so.
A/N: Hey, it's me, Troll. Thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read and leave a review! Elf is too busy with school to do more than short fics (which I think she is rather good at, but then, I'm biased. You be the judge.). Since this is my first adventure into writing (other than tech manuals, and they just don't read the same…) it really is a boost to know people find it entertaining rather than irritating. We seem to have garnered a "following" of about 200 judging by the consistent number of hits per chapter. Thanks to all! Sorry if this one is a tad short.
Chapter 7 - The Message Within
After disembarking from the coach, the group made their way through the hallways of the castle to the Great Hall. A sense of familiarity overtook them as they entered the immense room with its banners of the four Hogwarts houses, long wooden tables, and floating candles. The enchanted ceiling unveiled the last subtle hues of the setting sun, the stars just beginning their evening dance across the sky. They made their way down the center aisle and found seats at the middle of the Gryffindor table.
Throughout the room a buzz of chatter could be heard as students discussed their summer events with those friends they had missed on the train. Harry glanced at the Slytherin table and saw that Malfoy had, unfortunately, returned to his normal appearance. He turned and looked now to the professors' table to see that Hagrid had taken his seat. This meant that the boats had crossed the lake and the first years would be making their appearance at any moment. A chuckle then escaped his lips as Tonks, crossing the stage to her chair, collided with Snape and nearly knocked him to the floor. Harry couldn't help but wonder whether the scowl on Snape's face was due to Tonk's clumsiness, her multicolored hair, or both.
The doors to the hall burst open and Professor McGonagall, trailing a long line of lost looking first years, made her way to the front. In her one hand was a plain wooden stool, in the other, was a rather ancient looking leather hat with large misshapen patches and a rip near the brim. The din of conversation fell to a hush as she placed the hat upon the stool and stepped away.
The rip on the hat opened wide and the Sorting Hat began its song:
Heed me not the previous year,
Of perils and deadly foes,
The dangers of divided houses,
Only increases but our woes.
Like cloudy days and moonless nights
The sadness within my heart,
Was kin to a hall of lifeless knights
As you bickered and grew apart.
But to a threat on each Hogwarts House,
Unite around each other you did, used your strengths in turn,
To aid each brother and sister you went,
And did this foe you spurn.
Great cunning it took to find
Some advantage this could fulfill
And to make use of this threat?
Why Slytherin fits the bill.
Ravenclaw of sharpest mind
Applied their guile and intellect
To appease the tyrants stand,
More than a match they were in all respect.
Bravest and the boldest
Were the students of Gryffindor,
So much in fact
Afraid was the tyrant to look behind the door.
Hard working Hufflepuff,
Diligent to say the least
Steadfast they were to the other houses
In helping to tame the beast.
But over it's not, much do I fear,
Darker clouds there may be upon the realm
But again we can triumph
With a strong hand upon the helm.
Draw upon strength from within these walls
And others that challenge what's been done
Having united around each other
You must also unite around the one.
Listen you will or won't, as I am only a hat,
Tis you are the heirs of this mighty school,
So sort you into your houses I will,
For I don't get to make the rule.
Professor McGonagall stepped to the front once again and one by one called the nervous first years forward to be sorted. Had they been that impossibly tiny as first years?
As he vaguely listened to the ceremony, Harry reminisced about his sorting into Gryffindor; how lost he had felt in what was then a wholly unfamiliar world, and pondered now how far he had come. He looked around the table at Hermione and Ron, his two closest friends, and shuddered at the thought at what the years would have been like without them. Before Hogwarts, when living with the Dursleys, he hadn't been allowed to have friends; Dudley had scared them all away. He thought how lucky he was to have found such good friends here.
With the ceremony complete, and all of the first years now sorted into the four houses, Dumbledore stepped forth to the podium.
"I know you are all quite hungry and want to get on with the feast. Therefore, I will only say but a few words; hiccup and flubberwump." To the thunderous sound of the students' applause and with a wave of his hands, the large tables were filled to the point of overflowing with delicious food. "Tuck in!" he exclaimed.
Harry grinned as he filled his plate. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron grabbing at anything within arm's length. His stomach rumbled as he took a bite of chicken. Now, back at Hogwarts, the feelings of guilt and loss he had been experiencing since Sirius's untimely demise were beginning to ebb.
"So, what did you think of the Sorting Hat's song this year?" Hermione questioned as she ate a forkful of peas.
"Much the same as it was before, don't you think?" Harry observed. "You know, talking about unity and all that? Joining together and fighting?"
Ron nodded. "Seems to be sort of a recurring theme, huh?"
"And with good reason!" Hermione exclaimed in exasperation. "Both of you must see that it's incredibly important that we unite! Things as insignificant as petty house rivalries will definitely not help us in the war against Voldemort! If we are going to win, we have to work together, all of us. I know you hate Malfoy and his cronies, I do too, but the word Slytherin does not mean evil." Ron started to protest. "Ronald Weasley, just because Voldemort was a Slytherin doesn't mean all Slytherins are Dark. Aren't you forgetting Peter Pettigrew? He was in Gryffindor, and look how he turned out!"
Ron nodded, slightly deflated. Their dinner continued normally, with the trio talking about what had happened to them over the summer.
"I had a relatively quiet summer," Hermione said, "I just did homework and studied this year's course books."
"Of course," Ron muttered. Hermione glared at the red-head, and he smiled sheepishly. "Our house was actually relatively peaceful, too. Now that the twins have their own jokeshop, they're not blowing things up in their room. Dad was working at the Ministry a lot of the time, and Mum went back and forth between the Burrow and Grimmauld Place." Harry winced at the mention of Sirius' old house. "Blimey, sorry Harry."
"It's okay, Ron."
"How was your summer, Harry?" Hermione asked, quickly attempting to change the subject.
"Unusually quiet, as a matter of fact. The Dursley's were petrified of Mad-Eye, so they decided to leave me alone. Basically ignored me the entire summer. Finally." Harry grinned. "They even let me do my homework."
Ron raised his eyebrows. "And that's a good thing?" Hermione pursed her lips, very much like McGonagall, and smacked him on the shoulder. Ron clutched his arm in mock injury, pouted, and went back to eating.
Later, after Ron was finally full, the trio headed off towards Gryffindor Tower. With Hermione and Ron leading the way as prefects, they explained to the awed first years the quickest route to the tower, about the perils of changing stairways, and how best to avoid Peeves. Harry chuckled at the confused looks on their faces.
They quickly reached the common room and the massive portrait that guarded its entrance.
Acknowledging them all with a slight nod, "Password?" the Fat Lady asked in her grand voice.
"Phoenix Light," Hermione said promptly. The portrait hole swung open to reveal the common room. It looked exactly the same as it had the year before. The fire cracked merrily, casting shadows on the surrounding chairs. Glancing around at the familiar setting, Harry knew he was home.
Ron and Hermione quickly showed the first years their dormitories, before collapsing with Harry onto some nearby armchairs.
"I don't know 'bout you guys, but I'm beat," yawned Harry. "You know, I still wonder if Dumbledore puts some sort of sleeping draught into the food. I'm always so tired after the sorting ceremony."
Hermione nodded with drooping eyes. "I think I'll head off to bed now. Good night, you two."
"Night!" they chorused. "I think it's time we headed to bed too, Harry," added Ron.
"Probably right mate, but I'm going to sit for a bit," as Harry slipped into the chair in front of the fire.
"Ok, but don't stay up too late. Morning will be here soon enough." And with that Ron disappeared up the stairs.
With a solemn sigh, Harry sat staring into the dancing flames of the fire, a small part of him expecting to see Sirius's head pop out and ask, "So, how have you been, Harry? Pulled any good pranks lately? And, just what is it with Hermione, hmm?" 'Where did that come from' thought Harry. He knew that Sirius wasn't coming back, but deep inside he just couldn't admit it to himself, Hermione, Ron, anyone. He knew that's why they tiptoed around him like some fragile crystal. They had accepted it, why couldn't he? Why couldn't he just let go… 'damn it Sirius, why did you have to come after me? Why couldn't you just stay put! If I hadn't let Voldemort play me like a fiddle, you would still be here. Where are you damn it, I need you, Sirius!"
As the tears streamed down Harry's cheeks, reflecting the dancing light of the fire, a lone figure standing at the base of the stairway heard a soft whisper, "I don't think I can do this alone. It hurts too much, Sirius. I've lost mum and dad, you, and I almost lost Ron and Hermione. That damned prophecy, Sirus. I just don't know if I can do it."
"You're not alone, Harry" came a soft voice from behind him, as she wrapped her arms over his shoulders. "You're never going to be alone Harry because I won't let you be. I'll always be there with you. So will, Ron. You can keep trying to push us away, Harry, but it won't work. You're stuck with us, whether you like it or not," finished Hermione.
Wiping away the tears in the hope she wouldn't notice, Harry retorted, "But it's a death sentence, Hermione. Everyone I care for, he eventually comes after. I couldn't live with myself if something were to happen to you… or Ron."
"We know that, Harry. It doesn't matter, he'll come for us anyway. You know that. I'm a Muggle-born and Ron's family are members of the Order, so we're marked anyway." A stream of tears was now falling from Hermione and Harry slowly brought his hand up to cup her face and wipe her eyes. "Harry, I… I'm your friend. Friends don't abandon one another. We would rather fight along side you than on our own. I…I'm so sorry, Harry. I…" Hermione stammered as she spun around with her hands to her face and ran for the stairs.
Harry, slowly rose from his chair and looked around the common room. He focused on the table where they studied, the chair where Hermione spent her days reading, and the chessboard where Ron stood out alone. Slowly climbing the stairs to the boy's dorm, he pondered, 'Is she right? But, what about the prophecy? In the end, it must be him or me. How can I let them put themselves at risk?"
Burrowing further under his covers, Harry was slow to fall asleep, with Hermione's words thundering through his thoughts, the anticipation and dread of the first day of classes, and of the terror he feared yet to come.