Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any characters, settings or scenes associated with Harry Potter. All credit goes to J.K Rowling.
We Were Soldiers
Chapter I
Sixth Year
It was exceptionally cold, the morning of 1st September, 1976. Usually, the last remnants of summer were still lingering around this time of the year, chilly breezes punctuated with bright sunshine and the occasional hot day. Not that England had seen much of a summer this year, no, the weather had decided to turn oddly cold over the summer months, making it quite a dismal holiday indeed.
London, in particular, was experiencing the chilly winds and spots of rain shown up and down the country. The poor weatherman for the national television station was at a loss to explain the irregular weather – this time of year should have been sunny, and funnily enough the rest of the world appeared to be having heat waves or pleasant bouts of sunshine. But not the UK, no they were stuck with the wind and the rain and thunderstorms, making the mood in Kings Cross station that morning even more irritable than usual.
Of course, the station was still as busy as ever. Men and women bustled about busily, clad in crisp back suits and carrying large leather briefcases, winding in between the crowds of tourists and school children who were ambling about the station at a more leisurely pace.
It was as normal as normal could be, save for one small detail. For some reason, every year on the 1st of September, between the hours of ten and eleven o'clock, the strangest of folk could be seen wandering the train station. Some dressed in brightly coloured robes, some donning odd pointed hats – some children were even to be seen pushing trolleys carrying owls, of all things. The 1st of September, and in July, and near Christmas, these peculiar families caused many a raised eyebrow, although more often than not, they were overlooked in the race to catch a train on time.
And so, the morning wore on exactly how it always did, except perhaps the many delays caused by uprooted tracks and other acts of vandalism by the terrible little yobs flittering about these days. People busied themselves going to work or visiting the station on some sort of leisure or educational visit, and the weirdly wonderful robed people made their annual appearance, seen for a few moments, then disappearing into the crowds.
Yet, something seemed different this year. Someone else had joined the throng in the station, people who could be described similarly to the pointy hat wearing people. But for some reason, they did not seem as harmless as the usual eccentric oddities. No, these people were robed in black, large cowls covering their faces. The shoved people out of the way, never breaking stride, and hissed at people as they passed. They were definitely not the same as the owl people.
A large group had entered the station, robes swishing slightly in the wind from outside. Wordlessly, the group broke into two, and began pushing their way through the crowd, shoving anyone who got in their way so forcefully, many fell to the ground. One man in particular, shouted at the foul behaviour of some people, and promptly found himself being sent flying through the air.
For people who had witnessed the event, their eyes widened in fear and awe. A tall blonde woman pointed to one of the robed figures, whose arm was outstretched and pointing a thin wooden rod at the spot the flying man had once stood.
Silence. An eerie, bone shivering silence. It felt as though the air had all but been sucked from the station as more people stopped and listened to the whispers of those who had witnessed the man thrown backwards as if of his own accord.
Opposite the robed groups, a squat little man wearing a bright purple bowler hat and what appeared to be dungaree's spotted the group. With a small yelp, he glanced wildly at a metal barrier to his left. The man paled, his blue eyes bulging. And before anyone could even realise he was there, the man spun on the spot, and promptly disappeared into thin air.
One of the members of the robed group, however, had noticed this flurry of moment. Not a second passed before a jet of light was sent towards the space the bowler wearing man had once occupied. A flash of red, hitting the stone wall opposite and sending chunks the size of large rocks flying into the crowd, it was then that the tall woman, still pointing at one of the robed men, screamed.
It was utter chaos. Men and women and children ran in all directions, some heading for the exits, others clambering aboard trains hoping they could make a quick escape. The robed group began shooting jets of light in all directions, some hitting people and sending them flying, others hitting the station walls and windows, shattering both stone and glass. The group seemed to be blasting their way towards platform 9, or perhaps 10. The metal barrier between the two took quite a beating jets of bright white light thrown furiously towards it. Strangely, no damage at all was done to the barrier, as if it merely absorbed the stream of flashing colours. Men roared, women sobbed, children shook with fear, the group continuing their barrage of attacks.
And then, something even odder happened. All throughout the crowd near platforms 9 and 10, twenty to thirty people suddenly appeared from absolutely nowhere, simply materialising out of thin air, joining the throng. Almost immediately, the new arrivals began countering the attacks of the robed group, their own jets of light knocking back many of them. Several formed a protective circle around the barrier between platforms 9 and 10, whilst the rest charged forward, engaging the black robed group, identical thin wooden rods moving in a blue, bolts of light flying this way and that.
Some of the civilians of this battle cheered at their saviours, despite the utter nonsensicalness of the situation, others simply ran for cover.
"Alastor!" called one woman wearing a long green cloak, "Your left!"
The man named Alastor, a rather frightening fellow with scraggy hair and several scars on his face span around, countering whatever attack with a flash of blue light. The robed person, one couldn't tell whether they were male or female unless their hoods fell down, was thrown backwards by the blast of blue, and seemingly knocked unconscious.
"Dumbledore's on his way!" cried an older woman with hazel eyes, clinging to the arm of a man sporting round rimmed glasses.
"DO NOT BREAK FORMATION!" the man called Alastor roared, pointing to the gaggle of people surrounding platform 9 and 10's metal barrier who were starting to move forward and help those still fighting. A beam of green light narrowly missed Alastor's head, sending him diving to the ground.
An almighty crash sounded, followed by the piercing cry of a bird. A swan like creature adorned with crimson and gold feathers swopped upon the battle, calling out a fierce battle cry. Several of the robed members of the group stumbled, looking around frantically.
Amidst the battle, a new man had appeared. Tall and thin, his face wrinkled, covered by a snow white, waist length beard and bright sapphire eyes blazing, the man raised his wand, an almighty boom knocking many off their feet. Those of the attacking group still able to move disappeared with loud cracks, those unable to were bound by the allies of the old man. And as quickly as that, it was over.
Alastor shoved his way through the crowd towards the old man, his face twisted in anger and his breathing harsh and ragged.
"We got four; I've got the Aurors taking them to the Ministry now. Crouch has called a meeting."
The old man nodded, his eyes surveying the scene before him. The floor of Kings Cross was littered with dust and rubble, civilians struggling to their feet, those who were wounded being escorted from the building. The old man then looked right, and spotted the metal barrier between platforms 9 and 10, and aside from the dust, seemed relatively unharmed. He breathed a sigh of relief, and nodded again.
"All is well, the students are aboard and will be notified once they reach Hogwarts – I trust you will have sent some of us to Hogsmeade?"
Alastor nodded gruffly, "The Potter's have volunteered, so have the McKinnons. They've got their kids up there so they were keen. I've sent a couple of Aurors up too."
"Good," the old man held out his, the great swan-like bird landing gracefully, "Now if you will excuse me, I must go to the Ministry now that all is safe. Please keep me updated, I will be at the castle should you need me."
Alastor nodded and watched the old man disappear. He stood for a moment, eyes fixated on a group of the robed attackers being escorted roughly by his 'Aurors'. He grunted, shaking his head, before turning back to the battle scene and barking orders at those still working there.
" – attacked Kings Cross."
"Right outside the platform I heard."
"You think he was trying to get in?"
"Definitely, apparently he wants to stop the muggleborns coming here."
A tall, thin blonde girl rolled her eyes at the table beside her, the whispers in the hall creating an annoying buzz throughout the Great Hall of Hogwarts. She pursed her lips, and turned to a short, slightly tubby girl beside her.
"And with good reason," the blonde girl sneered, shooting an annoyed glare at the table beside hers, "It's about time someone got rid of that lot stinking up the place."
The short girl beside her nodded in agreement, adjusting a silver and green tie absently, "Personally I'm disappointed they didn't get through, though I highly doubt he was there, the damage would have been a lot worse."
"Or better," a broad shouldered boy opposite the girls added, "The more trouble caused for the mudbloods and the muggles, the better."
"Here here!" the short girl grinned, raising her goblet to him.
This line of chatter seemed to hold strong at that particular table, whilst the rest of the occupants of the hall voiced their anger and fear, the silver and green clad students of Slytherin house beheld a sense of awe in their voices, the topic eliciting murmurs of approval and glints of excitement in their eyes.
The small group sniggered, looking up as another two joined their table.
"Prefects meeting with Slughorn," a boy with greasy looking black hair and dark beady eyes grunted to their unasked question, taking a seat next to the two boys already seated.
"What did he want, was it about the attack?" asked the broad shouldered boy.
"Clearly," the skinny dark eyed boy sneered, "Nice to see you haven't lost your brain over the summer, Mulciber."
'Mulciber' rolled his eyes and grunted, turning back to the girls, "Sonja, what did he say?"
The girl who had just joined the table, Sonja, looked up, light blue eyes narrowing slightly.
"Nothing that concerns you, Dumbledore's going to explain so I'll let him have the delight in gossiping with you."
Another boy, sitting next to Mulciber chuckled, "Someone's snappy this evening."
Sonja rolled her eyes and turned back to the girls, "So would you be, Avery, if you had every bloody Joe and Mary-Sue running up to you asking what happened. How am I supposed to bloody know, I was on the train."
"Cheer up dearest," the blonde girl smiled, "We're all a bit miffed we didn't hear more, even more so when Dumbles spouts some waffle about the evil of the world," she adopted a look of disgust on her pretty face, causing the rest of the group, minus Sonja, laugh.
"Viv's right," the short girl sniggered, "The man talks a load of rubbish."
"Much like you then, eh Alecto," Gareth smirked, Alecto turning a fierce shade of red. Viv, or Vivienne as she preferred to be called, flipped her hair and turned to Sonja. She seemed to focus most of her attention of the chestnut haired girl.
"Any who, did you see who Harriet Kendall was snogging on the train?"
Sonja tore her gaze from the teachers table, where Professor Slughorn was deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall, head of Gryffindor, and shook her head.
"Darius, that's who!" her pretty blue eyes turned cold, "Taken a few steps down the ladder, don't you think."
Sonja nodded absently, her eyes drifting to the Gryffindor table where a group of boys were mucking about, two of them pretending to duel one another. She rolled her eyes with a sneer, and turned back to her friends.
"Probably just after one thing," she stopped as she spotted Professor Dumbledore enter the hall, the rest of the students quickly following, the chatter dying instantly.
Dumbledore surveyed his students through half moon glasses, his usually twinkling eyes darkened in the bright candle light. He clasped his hands before him, inhaling lightly, and began to speak.
"Welcome, welcome back to another year at Hogwarts. Welcome back to those of you I know, and welcome to a new year to those I do not. Now I know you will all be wondering about the incident at Kings Cross this morning, and I will not dilly dally around the subject."
He paused, shifting in his midnight blue robes, his face crinkled and full of worry.
"Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters made an attempt to enter platform 9 and ¾'s this morning, an attempt I have no doubt was malicious, and done to threaten the security of every single one of you sitting before me."
"Not all of us," muttered Avery, eliciting several chuckles from the Slytherin table, and several angry hisses from the other tables.
Having either not heard, or simply choosing to ignore the comment, Dumbledore continued, "The plan was thwarted by our highly skilled Aurors, who will now be stationed around the school until it is felt by the Ministry that the school is secure. I will implore to you know, you will be safe as long as you stay within these enchanted grounds and follow our rules. Within these walls, you are protected, outside of them, those who wish to harm us will have the upper hand."
"Good riddance," Irvina sniffed, twirling a strand of dirty blonde hair around her finger, "Shove all the mudbloods in the forest, that'll teach em'."
"Sshh," Sonja hissed, "At least have some manners."
Irvina rolled her eyes, but remained silent. Sonja knew she had a certain amount of control over the girls, coming from such a respected family; it served her well when they got on her nerves.
"Now, the situation has been dealt with, and I hope you do not dwell on the worry it has no doubt caused," the twinkle returned to his eyes, and Dumbledore offered a crooked smile, "I will not keep your hungry stomachs in suspense any longer, enjoy the feast."
At that, the usual array of sumptuous meals suddenly appeared, the first years' gasps heard over the scattered cheers of those exceptionally hungry. Sonja reached for the nearest plate to her, pork chops, and began to pile her plate high. She hadn't realised quite how hungry she was until the food had appeared.
The chatter rose again, topics now changing to that of the year ahead, the Quidditch matches, lessons and the house cups. Sonja ate in silence, absently drifting in and out of the conversations around her.
She was like that a lot, preferring to listen rather than speak. It kept her out of trouble, at the very least, and no one seemed to have the guts to question why she wasn't as vocal as her fellow house mates. It just made life a lot simpler, keeping quiet and reserved.
" – still owling Andromeda, but the last I heard her parents had kicked her out."
"Can you blame them? Running off with a muggle, I'm surprised they didn't cart him off to Azkaban," Sonja heard Alecto say. She knew what they were talking about; Vivienne had kept Sonja quite informed about Andromeda Black's supposed courtship with a muggle born – to Alecto these were as bad as muggles, and therefore how she referred to them.
"Well," Vivienne toyed with her bowl of soup, "Can't say I'm surprised, look at the way he turned out." The Slytherins looked over, or turned in their seats, to the Gryffindor table on the other side of the room.
Sonja returned to her meal, once again bored of the conversation. She locked eyes with Snape, who shrugged, and turned back to his own plate; he almost as quiet at mealtimes as she was, though she was sure it was because he didn't like the company.
Since her first year of Hogwarts, being sorted into Slytherin and forced into relationships with the people around her, Sonja had learnt a great deal. Firstly, keep your opinion to yourself. Opinions caused disagreements, and disagreements often led to trouble. Secondly, trust no one. You were your own best friend, the only person you could rely, you must be smart, cunning and wise enough to get what you wanted on your own. And thirdly, never openly show civility towards those your friends disliked. It lead to point one, and so on.
It wasn't that she disliked the company, Sonja actually had a lot of good memories with Viv and the girls. They were close, being that they'd been thrust together without a say, and Sonja didn't dislike them as other students did. She enjoyed their time together – the shame was, outside influences often changed people to a point where they became unrecognisable to the people you once knew.
Such a shame indeed.
Dinner passed quickly, and Sonja was glad to finally be able to relax in her usual emerald four poster bed. She changed as fast as she could, and declared she was too tired to continue in any conversations the girls wished to have. Sleep was far more important and interesting to her.
Her sixth year of Hogwarts had gotten off to, let's say, an interesting start. Not that life at Hogwarts wasn't always interesting; barely a day passed without out some form of drama, large or small, taking over their small talk and gossiping. However the attack on Kings Cross had only further confirmed the troubles of the outside world were slowly seeping into the school, like an unwanted mist hanging thickly in the year.
No matter what house you were sorted into, the goings on of the so-called war affected them all. Some, like the company she kept, voiced their approval and support, others, like the idiots on the opposite side of the hall, shouted of disapproval and uprising against the leader of it all. Wherever you came from, whatever your beliefs, it was clear to Sonja that even on their first day back, the war was now as big a part of their lives as ever.
It was with this worrying thought, Sonja drifted off to sleep. Worry, not for the attacks, but for the opinion she herself held.
They could never know.
