"It's a nightmare at the ministry," said Arthur Weasley to Lupin in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place, slumping down into a chair. He looked as if he had just stepped out of a wind tunnel. "The Aurors are absolutely furious, and when the Aurors aren't happy, nobody is happy. But you don't need me to tell you that. Kingsley and Tonks know how it is in the ministry."
Both Aurors, who were hovering nearby, nodded in silent agreement.
"What do you mean Mr. Weasley?" Harry asked. He had just joined in the conversation, and wasn't sure what Arthur was referring to.
"Stuart Glasser was released today," explained Mr. Weasley. He limped more than walked to the kitchen, searching through a few of the cupboards before finally finding a vial of a thin green liquid - a cure-all for headaches. He removed the stopper and downed it in one gulp. Finally, he continued, "The Aurors haven't had much success in apprehending Death Eaters, so his arrest last month gave them a bit of a morale boost." He shook his head. "Today the Wizengamot ended his trial and released him. He's free."
"But he wasn't even a Death Eater, was he?" Harry vaguely remembered hearing about the arrest.
"No," said Mr. Weasley, grabbing a newspaper and then finding a seat at the table. "But it was still an insult to everyone who worked to catch him. When the Wizengamot released him, they took away one of the Auror department's few recent victories. A lot of people were quite angry, especially since the evidence against Glasser was overwhelming. Or so I've heard," he added.
"That's not completely true," Kingsley said. "But there was enough evidence to warrant at least a conviction on Magical Deviance."
"Well, anyway," continued Mr. Weasley. "Not too many Aurors were happy with their jobs today. That made it practically impossible to get anything done. Every time we confiscate a muggle object that's been tampered with, we need to have an Auror present. The Auror we normally work with in our department called off sick halfway through the day without telling the main office, so we had to find a new one to replace him. The new one took an hour to show up, and by that time two more muggles fell victim to the prankster's enchanted toilet."
"The worst part is that the Wizengamot never even gave a reason for why they released him," said Kingsley. "Usually they give an official statement of some sort, but this time they didn't even comment on it. Makes me wonder if Glasser just has some very influential friends..."
"Oh, don't be so paranoid," said Tonks. "The Wizengamot wouldn't dismiss Glasser without having a very good reason. Especially with Madam Bones in charge. Besides, Dumbledore doesn't seem particularly upset about it, and he's the one who's in best position to know what was going on."
"Regardless of whether it was right or wrong, you'd think that the Aurors would give a better show than that," Mr. Weasley said. "With You-Know-Who around we can't afford this nonsense. They were putting muggles and wizards alike in danger by neglecting their duties."
"Not much they've been doing in the first place," growled Moody, who came down the steps in his usual staggering walk. "Even when they're on duty, they scarcely catch more than a cold. The main enemy isn't the Death eaters, though they're a problem by themselves, it's this blasted plague. It's spreading and killing and nobody in Britain can do anything about it. Dumbledore says he has some sort of plan, and the Unspeakables probably are concocting something by themselves, but other than that we're all more or less useless."
"The goblins know a bit about the plague," Harry said. "They're at least able to detect it before the people get sick - something more than we're able to do."
"That's not much of a surprise," said Moody. "You-Know-Who's been trying to get the goblins on his side. He probably leaked them a bit of information to entice them."
"Or they discovered it on their own," said Mr. Weasley quietly. "Since goblin magic is far different than our magic, it's entirely possible that they were able to discover that about the plague by themselves. We don't know either way yet, so there's no point in jumping to conclusions."
"Not when the conclusions make the most logical sense, Arthur," Moody replied, then took a seat around the table. "Potter-" he said suddenly, turning his head in a queer motion. "-have you been keeping up with your dueling?"
"Sure, I've been practicing some new curses."
"Good," said Moody, his magical eye doing a full 360 degree revolution in its socket. "School will begin in about a week now, is that right?"
"A few days, actually," corrected Mr. Weasley.
"A few days?" Moody said with some surprise. Both eyes now focused on Harry. "Then you better be brushing up on your core dueling too. You don't want to be going to school unprepared."
"Unprepared?" Harry asked, somewhat confused.
"For dueling!" said Moody. "Rules aren't going to matter as much with You-Know-Who around. Young Death Eaters-to-be might become a little more reckless. One might try to make a name for himself by killing the Boy-Who-Lived. Rules, punishments, expulsions - all that - won't matter. You need to watch your back."
"Yeah," said Harry, unable to think of anything else to say. He thought that Moody might actually have a point on this one. He had saved Draco Malfoy's life the previous year, but he doubted very much that it would matter. He knew plenty of Slytherins that might strike out at him unthinkingly.
"And your two friends - Granger and Weasley," continued Moody. "They'll be targets too. All three of you should watch out for each other. Granger is going to be Head Girl this year, yes?" He looked towards Mr. Weasley for confirmation, and, upon receiving it, continued. "Then her especially."
Harry nodded. Hermione had received her badge in the mail only a few days ago. It was not normal for badges to be sent separately from the book list, Harry thought, but since Ron had received his new prefect badge the same day Hermione received her badge, Harry decided it must've become the norm for this year.
Just as strangely, the name of the Head Boy was not given in the letter that came with Hermione's badge.
"Good," said Moody shortly, then, turning to Tonks and Kingsley, he asked, "One of you two happen to know where Albus went? The man is making himself impossible to contact."
"I think he mentioned something about meeting with the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor," said Tonks. "But I don't know more than that."
"Well that gives me somewhere to start, if nothing else," said Moody, sounding irritated. "Minerva might know more, I'll have to check with her."
"Is there something you need us to relay to him?" Mr. Weasley asked. He had fallen out of the conversation and was now idly flicking through the newspaper.
With an awkward turn of his hips and fake leg, Moody swiveled in the chair and got to his feet. "No, I just have a few more questions about those new wards he's planning on putting up," growled Moody. "He's reactivating the old magic in Hogwarts. The Founder's Wall." There was a curled sort of grin that crept into his face as he said that.
"You can't be serious," Mr. Weasley said disbelievingly, his interest in the newspaper vanishing. He turned in his seat to face Moody. "That hasn't been in use for ages - does it even still work?"
"Minerva and Severus have already etched in their runes."
"He isn't concerned at all with what might happen?" Tonks said slowly, joining the conversation. Her eyes flickered from Moody to Mr. Weasley. "I can completely understand how security is necessary, but at what cost?"
"What is the Founder's Wall?" Harry asked tentatively. "And what do you mean by cost?"
"The Founder's Wall was the original warding system in Hogwarts," explained Tonks, moving from her position against the wall to a seat at the table next to Harry. "It's unusual in that it's a smart system that actively removes those who it deems to be a danger to the students and staff. For it to be set up, the headmaster and the heads of each of the houses have to carve certain runes into a certain wall, and once that is accomplished, the wards are activated."
Harry took a moment to absorb this. "How does it decide who's a danger to the school?"
Tonks gave a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "And that, Harry, is the problem. No one is quite sure."
"And don't forget," added Mr. Weasley. "That sometimes it removes the wrong people. That's one of the reasons for why it was shut down five hundred years ago. The original warding system is like any other aspect of Hogwarts. Asking why it removes certain people is like asking why the staircase to the fourth floor labs only appears on certain Wednesday's."
"But you cannot deny that it is effective," growled Moody from the background. "During the period that it was in place, there were absolutely no violence within Hogwarts, and the walls were never breached by any enemy." He stomped his wooden leg for emphasis. "And that is what's important."
"You know there's more to it than that," said Mr. Weasley quietly, clearly referring to something that Harry wasn't privy to.
"Superstitions and rumor are just that: superstitions and rumor," Moody said, both of his eyes coming to focus on Mr. Weasley.
His ear tips turned red - reminding Harry vaguely of Ron. "They're not rumors when they start being based on verifiable fact!" he countered.
"This is something that should probably be discussed between Dumbledore and the different heads of houses," added Tonks. She seemed to be in a hurry to end the conversation. "Arguing about it here won't accomplish anything."
"It won't matter anyway," Moody continued. "If Minerva and Severus have set in their runes, then it's nearly complete. Whether everyone in the Order agrees with it or not," he added with some finality.
And with that, Moody grabbed a handful of powder, threw it in the fireplace and floo'd out before anyone spoke another word.
**
When the day came to leave Grimmauld Place for Hogwarts, Harry woke up early to pack, and met up with a bleary-eyed Ron, Ginny, and Hermione in the kitchen. After eating, Mr. Weasley drove them to the train station, and dropped them off on Platform 9 3/4.
One thing that Harry noticed immediately was the presence of Aurors. A pair of them were standing loosely near a booth, trying their best to look inconspicuous to the flow of muggles around them, but failing miserably. While they were wearing muggle clothes, their uncomfortable expressions and the bizarre set of clothing they were each wearing betrayed their identities. One even had a wand clearly sticking out of his back pocket.
Moody would have a field day, thought Harry wryly.
"Someone should tell them that ties don't go well with sweatpants and tennis shoes," said Hermione, grinning.
Quickly they unloaded their luggage from the car, and when they finished Mr. Weasley said, "Well, if you four are ready, I need to head to the Ministry. Molly told me to tell you all to stay out of trouble, but honestly I think she has it the wrong way around." He paused momentarily. "Just be smart."
Trying to be as inconspicuous as possible, they each took their luggage through the portal and into King's Cross, where, for the first time ever, the platform wasn't overcrowded with witches and wizards trying to stuff their baggage into the storage area and climb into the compartments. Indeed, it was rather empty.
"Where is everyone?" Harry said aloud. He had been hoping to meet up with some of his classmates before going on the train.
"Didn't you see the Aurors?" Ron said. "People are afraid that You-Know-Who's going to attack the station. Of course, people are always afraid You-Know-Who's going to attack, so most parents are playing it safe and using portkeys to get to Hogwarts - or at least somewhere nearby so they can walk the rest of the way."
"Well," Hermione began. "I'm not sure if Voldemort-"
"Shhhh!" hissed a nearby woman, who looked at Hermione as though she were mad. "Not his name!" She shook her head once and then continued on her way to the train with her daughter - a first year, by the looks of it.
"I'm not sure if he would be able to attack the train," continued Hermione, more quietly. "I mean, it's certainly not undefended, and I'm sure Dumbledore has taken precautions."
"No, we definitely won't have anything to worry about," Ron said after a moment.
"Why's that?" asked Harry curiously.
"Look over there," Ron said, pointing towards the train. It only took a second for Harry to see a slick blonde head climbing the steps into the train. Draco Malfoy. "I don't think he'd be going on the train if there was going to be an attack. If anything, his parents would keep him home."
They continued to the storage area and began loading their luggage, Harry taking a moment to help Hermione with hers. When they finished, they climbed into the train, and Ron and Hermione had to leave for their usual officer meeting.
"We'll be back soon," said Hermione. "It shouldn't take too long." And with that both she and Ron headed towards the front of the train.
Ginny went into the first compartment with a group of sixth years girls, and Harry continued heading through the train, trying to find Neville or Luna or someone familiar to sit with. He passed through several compartments without any luck, and decided that most of the Gryffindors had gone to the back of the train where they had become accustomed to sitting over the years.
Considering Harry was still relatively close to the middle of train, he would most likely have to cross through the Slytherin compartment to get to the back.
He debated for a moment whether to not just get off the train and walk outside to the back entrance, but after feeling the train beginning to lurch forward, he decided to just take the most direct route - straight through each of the cars.
He passed through several before coming to the door to the Slytherins. Without hesitating he pushed it open and strode through, ignoring the surprised and annoyed glances he was receiving. He caught a glimpse of Malfoy's pale face, and saw the Slytherin's lips curve into a smirk. He leaned towards Crabbe and Goyle to whisper something - Harry looked away.
He couldn't even imagine the lecture he knew he'd be receiving from Moody right now if the former Auror was watching, but he certainly wasn't being stupid. His hand was tightly gripping his wand in the pocket of his robes, ready to whip it out at the slightest hint of trouble. So far, the Slytherin's had restricted themselves to giving Harry sly looks and a few jeers.
But then again, I doubt they'd give much warning, Harry thought to himself.
"What're you doing here Potter?" someone called out - Harry didn't see who. "Mudbloods and muggle-lovers are in the back."
The hairs on Harry's neck bristled as the Slytherin's grew more hostile. He gripped his wand, ready to draw it on a moment's notice.
"Watch out, you never know what disease you'll catch from the mudbloods - I heard they spread plague," someone added. Harry ignored it, instead focusing on what the Slytherin's were holding.
No drawn wands yet, Harry observed.
"Aren't you going the wrong way? The mudblood bitch should be in the front compartment now since she's head girl, right?"
The entire Slytherin section broke into raucous laughter at the last comment, and Harry felt his face burn, though he did nothing. He didn't take their bait, and instead continued his way through the compartment. He wasn't about to start anything that might lead to a fight with the Slytherins. The last thing he needed now was a duel with the entire Slytherin house on the train to Hogwarts.
When Harry reached the end of the compartment, he opened the door and shut it behind him. All things considered, that went rather well, he thought.
Looking on either side of the new compartment he had entered, he found that it was empty, and decided that the Gryffindor compartment must be further back.
He was halfway through the empty compartment when he heard the door to the Slytherin compartment open behind him. When he heard footsteps he turned around, expecting to see a few bored Slytherins who had come to throw insults.
What he saw instead was Crabbe and Goyle charging towards him, their arms stretched forward, and, strangely, their wands nowhere in sight. Harry reached for his wand and drew it, thrusting it forward in warning. He waited a second, and when Crabbe and Goyle did not stop, he said "Stupefy!"
Nothing happened.
The next few seconds were a blur. Crabbe was the first to reach Harry, and in a wide, clumsy swing of his arm knocked Harry's wand to the ground. Goyle went in second, and, having the advantage of sheer size and weight, grabbed Harry's arm with his one hand and neck with the other. Harry twisted and threw out his fist, feeling it connect with Goyle's jaw, but strength eclipsed agility when Crabbe joined in. Harry, being overpowered, was slammed into the compartment wall face-first, his glasses falling and skidding across the floor.
Harry wasn't sure what to expect, and suddenly he found himself remembering Moody's warning: "You need to watch your back," he had said. Harry cursed himself for underestimating the importance of the advice. In a sudden burst of energy, he tried to pull himself away from Crabbe and Goyle, but their gorilla-like strength forced him back again.
Harry's mind raced. What were Crabbe and Goyle up to? Were they acting on their own? And, more importantly, why didn't his damned wand work?
"Stop struggling, Potter," grunted Crabbe. He thrust his fist into Harry's back for emphasis, and he recoiled from the pain. "Stop moving or we'll break your face."
"Potter..." whispered a voice in his ear. Draco Malfoy. "Who the hell do you think you are?" He was speaking low and threateningly, and although Harry couldn't turn far enough to see Malfoy's face, he imagined it red with anger.
Malfoy paused for a moment, as though expecting a response. When none came, he continued, "What, are you surprised? Didn't you expect this? Wait, let me guess..." There was another momentary pause. "You thought I owed you something? You thought saving my life last year-" He was almost spitting the words. "-would make me forget about you Potter?"
Harry was shoved against the wall even further, and he began to taste the blood coming from his cut lip. "Never wanted anything from you, Malfoy," Harry said with all the venom he could muster. Goyle jabbed him painfully in the side and he grunted, pain shooting through him.
"Don't lie to me you piece of Gryffindor shit," Malfoy snarled. "You wanted something the moment you pulled me away from that Grendel. Well as of now, I owe you nothing. You saved my life, and, this time, I will spare yours. I can have you killed, Potter. Right now, on this train, this very second. It might trace back to me, it might not." He grinned - Harry could practically hear the grin in Malfoy's voice. "Wouldn't matter either way. The Dark Lord will rule soon, and he'll be the one making the decisions."
Harry heard him move away, Malfoy's footsteps going further down the compartment.
"So you're wearing the Mark now?" Harry said through his teeth, blood dribbling as he spoke. Crabbe and Goyle had him pressed so hard against the wall that he could barely move his jaw. Better judgement would've had him stop there, but he added, "Or are you still talking through your arse?" It was a bare taunt, and though Harry knew in the back of his head that he was in no position to taunt Malfoy, he had said it anyway.
"Shut up," Malfoy spat.
Goyle kneed Harry in the side. Hard. Harry almost buckled.
"Father says I'll get it soon," Malfoy said, walking back to Harry and speaking directly into his ear again. "And you- you'll be dead. You picked the wrong side, Potter. If you can't see that now you're blind."
"I'm not blind," said Harry. "But you're deaf. Didn't the speeches Dumbledore made about choices get through your thick skull? About what was right and what was easy?" Crabbe smashed his fist against Harry's ribcage - this time for no apparent reason.
Malfoy gave a short, forced laugh. "You'll go nowhere if you listen to that old fool. He'll be dead soon too, you know. The Dark Lord has plans for you - for you and that mudblood bitch." Harry felt anger flare up in him, though he could scarcely move. Slowly, Malfoy began to walk away. "Crabbe, Goyle. You two can let him go now. We're done here."
They grunted and simultaneously released him, and Harry staggered, nearly falling, but gaining enough balance to turn towards Malfoy.
He barely caught a glimpse of Malfoy's robes before he disappeared back into the Slytherin compartment. Crabbe and Goyle, glancing back at him only once, followed suit, and soon Harry was alone in the empty compartment.
"Sodding bastard," he muttered, wiping the blood from his chin. He knelt to pick up his glasses, his body protesting his every move.
Breathing hard, he grabbed onto a seat and pulled himself to it. He fell into the cushion, letting himself sink into it, its softness being delicious. His entire body ached, and he felt bruises forming on his sides and back - where Crabbe and Goyle had struck him. Still more he felt a burning sensation above his eye and on his cheek. He knew the sensation well - bleeding. Slowly, he put the tip of his wand to his cut lip and muttered a weak healing charm.
Nothing happened. He repeated himself. Still nothing.
Frustrated, he shook his wand, and then tried yet again. What happened with my wand?
Finding a tissue in his pocket, he wiped the cuts on his face and then carefully got to his feet. He remembered Moody's somewhat dramatic warning about what other the Slytherin's might try, and decided that he had better leave in case Malfoy decided to come back. Without a functioning wand, he didn't stand a chance.
He went through a few more cars, feeling a bit better with each step, until finally he came upon Neville and Luna sitting in a relatively empty compartment. Neville stood up the moment he saw Harry.
"What happened?" Neville said, instinctively going for his wand. His eyes grazed over the cuts on Harry's face, and then towards the door that Harry had just come through. "Behind you?" he asked quickly.
"No, no," said Harry, waving him to put away his wand. "I'm fine."
Neville relaxed visibly, but Luna asked, "Malfoy?"
Harry nodded. "Him and his two goons grabbed me, and my wand wasn't working." He paused. "Is yours?"
Neville frowned, then, drawing his wand, muttered "Lumos!" His eyes went wide as nothing happened. "What the- it was working just before I got on the train."
Harry turned to Luna as she tried the same spell, with an identical result. "So none of our wands are working?" Harry asked rhetorically, suddenly feeling very vulnerable.
"Malfoy's wand must not be working either," said Luna. "That would explain why he had Crabbe and Goyle grab you rather than simply stunning and immobilizing you."
"Yeah, it would," Harry said, not thinking of that. He found a chair and sat in it, Neville and Luna following him.
"That cut isn't looking too good Harry," Neville said as he sat down across from Harry. "Do you have any bandages?" Harry shook his head.
"I do," said Luna quickly as she reached into her pocket. "I never come unprepared - father always warned me about what sort of creatures can inhabit trains." Finally, she drew a white, cottony patch and offered it to Harry. "It's made from genuine sinew of a Snorack - sterilized, of course," she added quickly.
Harry accepted it, thanking her and knowing her too well to ask any questions. He cut it in half and applied one on the cut above his eye and the other on his cheek.
"There, much better," she said, and to Harry's surprise, the pain from the cuts slowly ebbed away. He let his head fall against the back cushion and closed his eyes. The bandages seemed to have a built-in cooling charm that both relaxed him and numbed the cut.
"So, Harry," Neville said. He shifted in his seat nervously, as if he was about to ask a burning question. "What about the D.A.? Are you going to organize it again this year?"
"The D.A...." Harry echoed, still reveling in the coldness of the bandage. In all reality, he hadn't even given the D.A. a thought yet. He opened one eye, seeing that Neville was sitting at the edge of his seat, eagerly waiting for his answer. He closed his eye again.
Harry wasn't so sure if he wanted to organize Dumbledore's Army again. For one, he had his own plate full with his Occlumency lessons and his meetings with Dumbledore, and for another he wasn't entirely sure if the training he was providing was even effective. For the most part, he hadn't seen any of the D.A. in live combat - which, he reminded himself, was a good thing. It also went without saying that every member of the D.A. was another weakness that Voldemort could exploit. If Voldemort had any confusion as to who Harry was friends with inside Hogwarts, all he would need to know would be who attended the D.A. meetings regularly - something not terribly difficult to find out with Malfoy and his goons in the castle.
However, Harry also knew the boosts in confidence the meetings gave to each and every member of the D.A. That was unquestionable - and was evident in the eyes of Neville as Harry had seen them when he opened his own.
"Sure," Harry found himself saying. "That's what I'm planning."
"Great," Neville said. "What do you think we'll start practicing this year? Will it still be in the Room of Requirement? What about-"
Luna, who had been listening to the conversation carefully, smiled at Neville's questions and began gazing outside of the train window, her eyes misting over in the way they had a habit of doing. Harry took each of his questions one at a time, a little surprised at Neville's eagerness, but answering them regardless.
Harry had barely responded to three of the questions before Ron and Hermione entered the compartment, both looking exhausted from the long officer meeting. Hermione's tired expression vanished into one of concern when she saw Harry.
"Bandages?" Hermione asked, moving quickly to Harry's side. She scanned him for other injuries "Harry, what happened?"
Ron moved a bit slower, but it only took him a moment to guess what had happened. "Malfoy, right?"
Hermione glanced up at Harry for a response, and when he nodded she said, "Did you report him to Professor McGonagall? She's in the front compartment-"
"No," Harry said quickly. He sat up in his chair and met her eyes. "There wouldn't be a point."
"Harry-" she urged.
"Nobody even saw it happen," Harry said. He shifted in his seat - partly to be more comfortable, partly to avoid her eyes. "It would be my word against their's. And even then, I'm sure there would be a car full of Slytherin's willing to tell her that Malfoy never left the compartment." He gave her a bit of a grin. "He's just lucky my wand wasn't working properly."
"There's a suppression field on the train," said Hermione lightly. "That's why your wand wasn't working."
Harry gave her a silent "oh" as she peeled back his bandage to see the wound, replacing it right after.
"That doesn't look too bad," Hermione said, furrowing her forehead. "What kind of bandages are these?"
"My father orders them from a catalogue," Luna said, her voice seeming to drift from her corner of the compartment. "They're genuine Snorack sinew - you won't find better bandages anywhere," she added somewhat proudly.
Hermione looked ready to refute Luna, but took another look at the cut on Harry's cheek, and said nothing. Her fingertips slowly found their way to his sides and back, where she began applying pressure. "Feel anything?" she asked.
"Not really," Harry replied - enjoying Hermione's touch more than he felt he should. He felt some heat rise to his cheeks.
"I'm not a mediwitch," Hermione said at length. "But you seem fine - all things considered. Once we get off the train you'll need to apply some healing charms, but those bandages seemed very...effective." Hermione seemed to have trouble admitting the last part. She gave Harry a quick, chaste kiss on the cheek and then sat back in her seat next to him.
"Where'd they hit you mate?" Ron asked, suddenly looking uncomfortable. "It doesn't look like they got you too bad. I reckon a healing charm or two would take care of the bruises."
"Mostly in the back and sides," Harry said. At Ron's questioning look, he added, "They had me pressed against the wall."
"Pressed against the wall?" Ron repeated, sounding puzzled. "I always thought Malfoy favored kicking people while they're on the ground."
"Well, Malfoy wanted to talk to me," Harry said, the tone of his voice betraying that he used the term 'talk' loosely. "He was telling me that he could kill me, and that his sparing me this time meant that he now owed me nothing. He seemed pretty set on the idea that I only saved his life from the Grendel to earn some sort of favor from him. Like I wanted to earn his favor," Harry added with biting sarcasm.
Ron snorted, but Hermione said, "Maybe you saving him had more of an impact than you thought. It had to have been bothering him for a long time - his worst enemy risking his life to pull him away from the monster's jaws."
"I doubt the ferret cares," said Ron, his ears tinging red. "After what he did last year, I wonder if he was-" He stopped and fell silent.
"Worth saving?" Harry said, finishing Ron's sentence for him. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Harry had been asking himself the same question that Ron presented. Was Malfoy worth it? Then, in a strange sort of answer, he remembered another time when he had saved an enemy's life. Peter Pettigrew.
What had Dumbledore said then? He struggled to remember.
"I don't think Malfoy's done anything bad enough to warrant his death," Hermione said sharply. She turned towards Harry, her eyes turning soft. "You were right to save him. Isn't that what separates us from Death Eaters?"
"Hasn't done anything yet, you mean," Ron muttered, his eyes telling Harry all that he needed to know. Ron outright hated Malfoy - there was no question or variation in his opinion of the blonde Slytherin. Where Harry could sometimes control his feelings towards Malfoy, Ron could not, and Harry wondered - in the deepest recesses of his mind - whether, if Ron had been in Harry's position, he would have saved Malfoy from the Grendel.
Harry never dared to try to answer that question.
"We can't predict the future, Ron," Hermione said in a tone that warned Harry that they were about to have a row. "And it's obvious that Malfoy did care about Harry saving his life - otherwise he wouldn't be so bothered by it, would he?"
Ron opened his mouth to speak but Harry replied first. "I don't regret what I did," Harry said, feeling rather than seeing Ron's stare. his eyes were focused on Neville, Luna, and Hermione, who were all watching him with rapt attention. "I don't think Malfoy being a git is worth becoming a murderer." He turned towards Ron and before Ron could respond he added, "And that's exactly what it would be if I stood by and did nothing - murder."
"That's not what I meant," Ron said, sounding irritated. "What I'm saying is that you shouldn't be expecting to be receiving candy and flowers from Malfoy anytime soon, and whether you saved his life or not he'll still stab you in the back if you give him the chance."
"Let's hope I won't have to find that out," said Harry, wanting to extinguish the increasingly heated discussion.
Ron took a long moment to answer. "Agreed."
**
The three of them strode through the ancient doors of Hogwarts and climbed the short flight of steps to the dining hall. It was - like every other year - choked with people, and Harry had trouble squeezing his way through. Ron was definitely correct when he had said most of the students had chosen simply not to take the train. It seemed like people were stopping right at the entrance of the hall for some reason, holding up the students behind them, though Harry could not discern why.
When he finally entered the Great Hall, however, he understood. It looked nothing like it had been in years past. In previous years, there had been portraits, house banners, and various posters strung up along the wall, but that had all changed. Instead there were battle axes, swords, war standards, and a plethora of military memorabilia. It no longer looked like a social area where students met to eat their meals, but like a medieval armory.
Harry never really thought of Hogwarts as a castle before. In his mind, it was simply a school that happened to be made of stone and have battlements and dungeons to boot. Now he was becoming increasingly aware that Hogwarts in peacetime and Hogwarts in wartime were two very different places, and that the school - and home - that he was used to was gone with the house banners and posters.
Ron summed up Harry's thoughts in one statement. "What the bloody hell did Dumbledore do to this place?"
"I doubt he did anything to it," Hermione said. "This place is alive, Ron, and it adapts. It knows what's been going on in the outside world and is preparing."
Ron raised one eyebrow. "For?"
"Voldemort," Harry said quietly, causing several people around him to jump, then to glare at him as though he had offended them. Harry simply shook his head, finding it difficult to believe that - even now - Voldemort's mere name was enough to defeat some so-called wizards.
"Yeah, I s'ppose that makes sense, but I don't see how much help a couple of swords is going to be," Ron said. "But then again, that's probably not the point, is it?"
Harry nodded. The gears of war were churning, and not even the castle was left unaffected.
"So where do you want to sit?" Ron asked idly, still gazing around the Great Hall. The new décor was going to take some getting used to.
Harry instinctively searched for the house table, but remembered a moment later that they no longer existed. They had been removed in his sixth year, when Dumbledore consolidated all the house tables into one, gigantic table where students of all houses were forced to sit together. Though the idea had potential, it more or less failed due to the students taking it upon themselves to reserve certain seats for people of their respective houses.
"Here should be fine," Harry said, picking the seat closest to them. Ron and Hermione sat on either side of him, and he had difficulty in not letting out an exasperated sigh.
Why is it always so awkward around the two of them? He thought to himself.
"The ceiling works like it always has," Hermione observed.
Harry looked up too. She was right. It reflected a moonless summer sky, bright with stars, that seemed to hover far above their heads. Harry used to think that the Great Hall's ceiling would get old to look at after a while. But it never did.
"At least something is the same as it was at the beginning of last year," Ron commented. Harry looked sideways at him, unsure of the depth of Ron's remark. An awkward silence followed, where neither Harry or Hermione could fine anything else to say.
"Attention, everybody, if you please," announced the familiar voice of Dumbledore. Harry turned the face the headmaster, quickly glancing across the staff table as he did so.
"No Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, I see," said Hermione, and sure enough the spot that had always been reserved for the new teacher was empty.
"Didn't Dumbledore say he had someone?" Harry asked.
"Yeah he did," said Hermione and Ron simultaneously. Ron quickly fell silent, while Hermione continued, "He mentioned him to us before, saying that he was an expert in his field."
"An expert?" Ron asked sardonically. "Then what is he doing teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts?" All three of them laughed, and, for a fleeting moment, Harry felt that everything was normal again between the three of them. For a moment.
"Now that everybody has settled down," continued Dumbledore. "I have a few topics to discuss with you. First, I would like to discuss the new warding system that has been put in place."
"As many of you recall from last year, the school's existing warding system was revealed to have several flaws and errors in its design," Dumbledore said. "Not only will those errors be fixed, but we have also altered the basic nature of the warding system. I will not go into details, but I strongly advise that none of you test the new warding system for weaknesses, or try to alter it in any way. Doing so could have rather undesirable consequences."
"However, I'm sure you all understand the necessity for these changes, and how they will improve your security while you stay at Hogwarts."
"With that out of the way," Dumbledore continued in a lighter tone, clasping his hands together. "I would like to introduce the new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts."
Dumbledore made a hand gesture towards the back entrance of the Great Hall, and nearly everyone turned to look at the newcomer. Tall, lean, and seemingly young, he smiled and gave a short bow. Harry's forehead creased - for some reason the man's face looked familiar.
"He's awfully young for Dumbledore to call him an expert in his field," said Hermione.
"Oh…no…" mumbled Ron. His jaw was hanging and it seemed like half the hall fell to dead silence. "Dumbledore has absolutely, positively lost his mind."
"What is it?" Harry asked, somewhat distracted. He was still trying to figure out why he recognized the new professor's face. Diagon Alley, maybe?
"This has got to be a joke," Ron continued, forcing a laugh. "Maybe he drank some polyjuice before he came in here. You know…to test security?"
Hermione looked at Ron dubiously. "Well he looks sane, he looks competent…what's wrong?"
"The man is a convicted necromancer!"
"Let us welcome Stuart Glasser to Hogwarts," Dumbledore continued, ignoring the silence that permeated the entire room. "May his stay here be a fulfilling one."
"Thank you Albus, you are too kind," Professor Glasser said, bowing once more. "I look forward to seeing everyone at some point this year, and hope to make this year a most productive one." He then proceeded to his spot on the staff table. Almost immediately, dull murmurs and whispers broke out.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said, bowing in return. Turning his attention back to the students he continued, "Now, without further delays, let's eat!"
In a flash, the tables filled with trays and platters with the usual assortment of Hogwarts fare. Roasted goose, turkey, and even lamb popped onto the table before them. Ron wasted no time in grabbing a fork and piling hearty portions of everything onto his plate.
As he reached for the turkey, Harry suddenly remembered where he had seen that man's face before. The Daily Prophet.
"Dumbledore couldn't possibly let a necromancer teach us Defense Against the Dark Arts," Hermione hissed to Ron. "You must be mistaking him with someone else."
"No, I'm very positive," insisted Ron, helping himself to some mashed potatoes. "My dad and Kingsley were talking about him - they were both angry that the Wizengamot let him off the hook."
Hermione raised one eyebrow. "So is he a convicted Necromancer or not?"
"Well," Ron said at length. "No. Not convicted, but Kingsley and the rest of the Aurors were completely sure that he performed Necromancy. I mean, this explains that book we got. What was it called? Fundamentals of Necromancy!"
"An unusual taste in books is hardly the same as performing Necromancy."
Ron stared at her like he couldn't believe what she was saying. "Everyone knows he's a Necromancer! Everyone!" He speared a nearby sausage and dropped it on his plate.
"Everyone…except the Wizengamot, it would seem…" said Hermione slowly. "And I doubt Dumbledore would hire him if he was an actual Necromancer."
"He's made bad choices before," countered Ron. He started on the goose. "He hired Professor Quirrell. You can't say the entire wizarding community is wrong, Hermione."
"So you're saying the entire wizarding community was right when they bought into Rita Skeeter's dribble in our fourth year?"
"That's not the same. Dumbledore…" Ron's eyes lit up in an unusual fashion. "You don't suppose Dumbledore's the one who got him released, do you? I mean, that's an awfully strange coincidence…him being released and then Dumbledore hiring him right after."
Hermione stayed silent, seeming to consider this, while Harry said, "Well one thing's for sure. Dumbledore's going to be receiving a lot of Howlers tonight over his choice in professors."
"And don't be surprised if a lot of people withdraw," Ron added. He finished the last of his roasted goose and moved on to the lamb. "Or if Dumbledore loses his job.
"Dumbledore's word carries too much weight now," Hermione said. "I doubt there's anyone more influential than him."
Harry didn't say anything, but he now began to understand why Dumbledore had kept the new professor's identity secret for so long. There would be plenty of people in the Ministry - as well as the Order - that would be uncomfortable with his pick. While he did not believe that Glasser was totally innocent of his former charges, he also did not believe that Dumbledore was irrational. He had known the headmaster for too long to believe that, and knew that - whatever the reasoning - there was a point to having Stuart Glasser in Hogwarts.
Ron shook his head, deciding not to pursue that thread of conversation. "Well," he said, looking around. "It doesn't seem like Snape is too pleased that he lost the position for another year running to a Necromancer."
Harry swiveled in his chair, suddenly curious to see the Potions master, and found him sitting at the staff table. Ron was right when he said Snape didn't look pleased, but then, Harry wondered, when did Snape ever look pleased?
"Actually," said Hermione slowly, who had followed Harry's gaze to Snape's spot at the table. "He looks rather sick."
Harry raised an eyebrow at Hermione and then reevaluated Snape's appearance - and found that she had a point. The Potions master's hair - which, if nothing else, had at least been combed properly - was thin and scraggly, and his forehead shone with sweat. More than once as Harry watched he raised a handkerchief to sneeze. A fever, maybe.
"It's about time, honestly," Ron said. "He practically lives in the dungeons - what did he expect?"
"It probably won't matter," said Harry. "I think it would take a lot more than a cold for him to miss a class."
"Yeah, I wouldn't get your hopes up," said Ron, stretching in his chair. "I'm just glad I'm done with that git. I'm through with Potions. I took what was required - and that's all I'm taking."
"That's not very ambitious," Hermione said, frowning. "Higher level Potions courses will get you-"
"I know, Hermione," Ron interjected, forcing on a smile. "I know."
Hermione bit her lower lip, looking ready to argue, but, when she saw Ron's expression, she said nothing. The giant pink elephant came rumbling into the room.
After dinner, the trio left the table and strode through the halls to the Gryffindor dormitories. Harry barely noticed the train of first years behind them, which he had just realized were following Hermione to the common room.
Head Girl. He had nearly forgotten.
As Hermione turned towards the first years to explain about the switching staircases, the portraits, and all the other oddities within Hogwarts that would impede their route to class, Harry's eyes wandered, taking in the surroundings. The changes in the castle weren't restricted to the Great Hall, he noticed as they passed sturdy shield crossed with swords. Even the portraits had changed, with the themes changing from subdued pictures of forests, valleys, and homely cabins, to dark scenes of war.
Harry paused at one such painting, and watched as two medieval armies struggled on a grass field, their armor glinting, smoke rising here and there where supplies and structures burned. The soldiers looked like little more than ants with their glinting armor, sometimes smeared red, othertimes polished with painstaking detail. He could not see any faces, and whether this was by design or accident Harry was unsure, but seeing the masses of metal, lumbering soldiers fighting and killing and crumpling to the ground to be an anonymous death - it made him nauseated. Even as the battle raged on, the lake grew steadily darker with the same liquid that was spilling out of the dying warriors. A grisly sign of how long the battle had been going on. And then he saw it - the castle at the top of the painting that Harry couldn't possibly believe he missed. The long battlements, the towers, the lake and the surrounding forest - it was disturbingly familiar.
"Hogwarts," Harry said aloud, causing several first years to look up at him questioningly. He tore his eyes from the painting. "Nevermind," he said, then moved to catch up to Hermione and Ron.
The castle was trying to tell them something, Harry decided. Something beyond the surface message of war axes and swords and battle. He was reminded of how Dumbledore had once said that Hogwarts has a will of its own. After passing underneath an archway that had been newly donned with a war banner, Harry wondered whether the castle was trying to protect itself as much as the students. But then, what did mortar and stone have to fear from Voldemort?
(A/N: Not dead - I realize it's been an unbelievably long time since I last updated, but bear with me.)