Disclaimer: I only wished I owned this.
Harry Potter leaned his head against the window.
"I'll catch you later Harry," said Hermione as she and Ron left the compartment. Harry only grunted in reply. Hermione was Head Girl this year, and Ron a prefect, in their eighth year at Hogwarts. The War against Voldemort had ended barely five months ago, and here they were, trying to fit into an old routine, to pretend that nothing had changed, that everything was normal.
But everything wasn't normal. At least, not according to Harry. People had died. Friends had died. Their lives cut short, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Colin Creevey. Sirius and his parents. Harry knew he would always remember them, those willing to sacrifice their lives for a better world.
Since May, Harry had been busy. He had assisted the new Headmistress McGonagall in the rebuilding of Hogwarts over the last few months, making sure it was ready for September 1st, the start of a new school year. He had been all over England, giving memorial speeches, and attending funerals of those who were lost. He had been to all the Ministry trials for the captured Death Eaters, whether he participated in the trials or not.
Harry had worked tirelessly, showing the Wizarding World the Saviour he was. He knew, however, that this was not the reason. He was doing it for those remembered, those lost. He even exonerated Snape, after his death, and insisted he be given a proper funeral. Harry was one of the only people there, but it was the effort that counted.
Harry looked up and grinned as the compartment door slid open, revealing his girlfriend Ginny, and Neville and Luna. He shuffled over and Ginny plonked down next to him, Neville and Luna opposite.
Ginny smirked, an evil glint in her eye. "Poor diddums all on his ownsome?"
Harry grinned back and wrapped his hand around hers.
"What do you think it will be like?" Neville asked, "Going back, I mean."
"Everything's changed, Neville, we aren't going back. We're moving on." Harry shrugged. They all knew this year would be different. It was an eighth year, after all. The muggle-borns had come out of hiding, and not everyone was returning. Not everyone could return.
"Yeah, well..." Ginny sighed and laid her head on Harry's shoulder. "I wonder where you guys will be staying? There won't be room in all the Houses, because there still has to be room for all the first years to board as well."
"Daddy says there's an abandoned tower out in the Forbidden Forest, maybe that's where you'll be staying," came Luna's dreamy voice from behind a copy of The Quibbler.
"I sincerely hope that isn't the case." Neville said with a shudder.
Harry shot him a look of surprise. "Oh come on Neville, you stood up to the Carrows all year, and to Voldemort in May, and you're scared of the Forest?"
"Yeah but they were only people. In the forest there are acromantula. And other unknown dangerous stuff."
Harry gave a laugh. "Oh Neville, what will we ever do with you?"
The conversation moved around for a while, onto lighter subjects like Quidditch and school classes. Harry had again been given Quidditch Captain, even though he knew McGonagall knew he could have done without the extra attention.
Finally, with a loud noise and a bang, Ron and Hermione came back to their compartment.
"Guess who's Head Boy?" Ron asked the now crowded compartment.
Everyone simply stared, waiting for a reply. With a look of annoyance, Ron opened his mouth to speak, but before he could say so much as a squeak, Hermione beat him to it.
"Ernie Macmillan!"
Amidst the exclamations, Ron huffed and wriggled himself down to sit between Harry and Ginny. "Not while I'm around, little sister."
"Don't you dare Ron, or you're face will be plastered with bat-bogeys before you can say 'Quidditch'!"
Ron shrugged and pulled a sandwich out of his pocket.
"Anyway," Hermione continued, "we'll be at Hogwarts in an hour, you four had better get your robes on."
When the train arrived at Hogsmead Station, it was a relief to all to hear the familiar bellow of Hagrid, "Firs' years! Firs' years over here!"
Harry beamed at Hagrid and received a hearty wave in return, before he left with the nervous first years. His grin soon turned into a grimace, as all too soon, heads began to turn his way. Whispers yet again followed him wherever he went, only this time, it was so much worse.
He turned his head sharply, a sick taste in his mouth. He approached the carriages quickly, with his friends in tow, only stopping when he heard several loud intakes of breath. He turned around to see Ron and Hermione staring directly at what he heard been able to see since fifth year. The thestrals. Harry read such a wide range of emotions on Hermione's face: shock, fear, sadness. Understanding and grief. Ron had a similar expression, however his eyes seemed distant. Harry knew his best friend was reliving the last moments of his brother's life.
"Oh Harry..." Hermione said quietly. She looked at him, and then walked over to Ron, holding him tight. Slowly the both followed Neville and Luna onto the carriage.
Harry felt a hand slip into his. "They really are beautiful in their own way, aren't they?" Ginny murmured softly. Harry briefly wondered who she had seen die, but then decided it didn't really matter. It wasn't a war if you didn't see people die, good or bad, friend or foe.
He leant over and kissed her forehead, then dragged her onto the carriage.
The journey to Hogwarts was a short one, but it was filled with silence. Seeing the thestrals was an undeniable fact that the war had happened, that not everyone would come back.
As they rounded a bend in the track, the group got their first glimpse of Hogwarts. There really wasn't much of a change to its physical appearance, after all, it was a castle, but everyone could sense the change. It seemed... weary.
Overall, the ride to the castle wasn't very pleasant. It was filled with depressed silences and faraway glances, as many remembered what had happened the last time so many people were here.
Out the carriages, across the lawns, up the steps and into the Great Hall with hundreds of other students. Subject to long glances, and whispers behind hands. Even Harry's friends were finally getting a dose of his fame, although it was to do with their involvement in the war, not Harry's presence, thankfully.
Someone shoved into Harry's back, forcing him almost to the ground. "Move it Potter," someone snarled. Harry turned around to see Malfoy swaggering off, and shrugged. He wasn't going to rise to Malfoy's bait.
Ron grimaced. "Stupid ferret. You'd think the war took him down a few pegs. Blast whoever testified at his trial."
Harry stayed quiet. He didn't want to fight with Malfoy this year. I mean, really, what was the point?
They all headed off to the Gryffindor table, waving to Luna as she left for her own table.
Mere moments later, the doors burst open, McGonagall striding through, leading the straggling first years as they made their way towards the dirty old patched hat sitting on a stool at the front of the room.
The first years looked around, tiny and nervous. Some found Harry and stared unabashedly, until he returned the stares with daggers. He didn't even notice the Sorting Hat had begun its singing, and Harry didn't bother listening.
Eventually the Sorting started. Harry cheered along with the rest of his table as the first Gryffindor was Sorted, a tiny black haired girl called Mary Addison. After that, he paid even less attention.
At first he scanned the room, but his gaze slowed as he registered the differences. For a start, there were at least three new staff members he didn't recognise, but that wasn't a surprise. Defence Against the Dark Arts had to be filled, as well as Muggle Studies, as those were taught last year by the notorious Death Eater siblings, Alecto and Amycus Carrow. And as McGonagall was now headmistress, her previous post of Transfiguration teacher had to be filled.
Over at the Slytherin table, Draco Malfoy was talking softly to Goyle. At the Ravenclaw table, Luna was also receiving open stares, however she remained astutely oblivious, her head buried in The Quibbler. The Hufflepuffs watched the Sorting avidly. At his own table, Harry recognised many faces, and many he didn't. He felt a pang in his stomach as he saw Lavender Brown, her head bowed and her forehead creased. Her once beautiful face was marred with scars, a reminder to the fate she was almost subjected to, namely the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, in the Final battle. He watched as Pavarti Patil wrapped an arm around Lavender's shoulders, which brightened her smile considerably. There were so many reminders of the war, some more permanent than others.
"Nnnggg I'm so hungry..." Ron moaned, interrupting Harry's thoughts.
"I know, right?" Harry grinned.
Hermione shot them both a look, lips pursed. Ron and Harry wiped the grins off their faces and assumed a more appropriate facial expression to that of utmost interest of the Sorting.
Finally, finally, the Sorting was over. Professor McGonagall whipped the Sorting Hat off the last first year, made a Slytherin. With a clap of her hands the plates in front of everyone filled with food. Quiet gasps were heard from most of the first years, but most were drowned out by an incredibly loud moan from Ron.
"Food!" he cried, like he hadn't eaten in weeks.
"Honestly, Ronald, it's like you never ate those five sandwiches on the train." Hermione said crossly.
"Or those Chocolate Frogs," Harry grinned as he dug into a roast chicken, "or the Cauldron Cakes, or the liquorice wands or the Every Flavoured Beans..."
"Shu' up!" Ron exclaimed, spraying food all over a disgusted Hermione, "Oop, 'orry 'mione."
Harry shook his head. There were some things that would never change, thank Merlin.
All too soon, however, the last morsels were finished off, and McGonagall stepped out from the staff table.
"Welcome, everyone, to a new year at Hogwarts. It is wonderful to be back, to be able to teach here again, when we all thought last year was the last thing we would ever do. As I'm sure some of you have noticed, Hogwarts has changed. Over the summer many parts were rebuilt, and a memorial was also built near the greenhouses. Sitting here today, we have barely escaped the woes of war, and many of us didn't. The world has changed, the world has mourned. And as much as he is going to hate me, many of us would not be here if it weren't for the triumphs of Harry Potter, the Chosen One, the Saviour of our world."
At this Harry let out a low groan and let his head drop to the table. More people glanced his way.
"Harry Potter defeated the Darkest wizard our world has known, right here in the very hall. Many lives were lost, but to him I say thank you. Without him, we would not be able to move on, and at best we would still be under Lord Voldemort's tyranny.
"This year approaches the time of a new age. We have eighth year students, so many students who were not here last year, in hiding or worse. Those who missed a year, excluding eighth years, will meet with me tomorrow morning to discuss the future of their education. We also have new teachers this year, to replace the Transfiguration, Muggle Studies and Defence Against the Dark Arts posts. I introduce to you Professors Tuggen, Miller and Dawlish, respectively."
"Wasn't Dawlish an Auror or something?" Ron murmured to Harry.
Harry nodded, his eyes up front.
"Eighth years will wait in the Great Hall after the feast is finished. Mr Filch asks me to remind you that Fanged Frisbees and all Weasley's Wizard Wheezes are banned, and if found will warrant immediate detentions. For now, students may head to their respective houses."
"Somehow, I don't think George will be making all that much new stock," Ron said sadly.
In the usual uproar as students left for their common rooms, Harry, Ron and Hermione stayed sat. Ginny kissed Harry swiftly (Ron looked pointedly away), and departed with a wink.
Once the crowds had left, Professor McGonagall addressed the eighth years. "This year will be slightly different," she started, "there is no longer room in your own houses, so you will all be living in your own eighth year dormitories. This year, I want to see more inter-house unity, so you will not be sorted into dorm rooms by your house. You will be rooming with students from other houses, and you will not complain. Do you understand?"
A general murmuring reached her, and she nodded primly. "You will be living in the West Tower. It's a newly built extension to the castle, built purely for the purposes of accommodating eighth years. I will give you all your dorm room numbers individually, and I will not hear any complaints."
Harry was glad to find out he would share a dorm room with Ron, they had both been told Dorm Room 6.
The eighth years walked off to the Tower in dribs and drabbles, through the dark corridors and up to the fourth floor.
The West Tower stood barely attached to the main castle, and from the outside stood tall and solitary against the dark horizon. Inside, however, it was warm and inviting. Several fireplaces were spread out along the walls, and chintzy armchairs surrounded each one. Each of the four walls was painted a different colour, too. An emerald green wall, a scarlet red wall, a deep blue wall and a yellow wall, each obviously representing the four houses, coinciding and living as one. A door in the far corner of the room obviously led to the grounds outside; a second exit.
Harry and Ron waved goodbye to Hermione as she set off to some stairs to the right, obviously to the girls dorms. They took some stairs to their left, until they found the door labelled "Number Six."
The door was already open a smidge. Harry pushed it further, to reveal their new dorm mates.
Ron snarled. "You have got to be kidding me."
Draco Malfoy stood within, flanked with Goyle and Blaise Zabini, and Terry Boot to the side.