This popped into my head after watching HP6 and talking with my housemate about various aspects of the Potterverse. It borrows somewhat from thanfiction's wonderful DA-verse, so if you haven't read his work, you might feel a little lost, but only a little, because this is mostly based on DH. Basically, this story explores what might happen at Hogwarts for the start of the new year post-Voldemort.
I may continue with this universe, but that depends on the level of feedback I get.
HOGWARTS RAMPANT: TO SEEK A NEWER WORLD
Candles float with gentle serenity in mid-air, casting an aura of kindly golden light. Above them, the enchanted ceiling reflects the inky star-spangled darkness of an autumn night. Down below, the long tables that fill Hogwarts' great hall are laid out in their customary fashion - with one difference. The great throne-like chair that once belonged to the English King known to Muggles as Edward the Confessor stands alone in front of the staff table instead of behind it, with the owl-headed lectern to its right. All the teachers are present, save three, and it is this, more than anything, that arouses the curiosity of the students.
"Where's McGonagall?" Ron Weasley mutters, casting longing looks at the empty bowls in front of him. Nearly four months since the Battle of Hogwarts, and Ron is still making up for almost a year of culinary deprivation.
His girlfriend gives him a nudge. "Honestly, Ronald, can't you think of anything but your stomach?"
"What? I'm hungry!"
Hermione gives him a look that mingles her old exasperation with a new tenderness, and Ron's face breaks into a goofy grin. Before either can speak again, the newly restored tall double doors at the other end of the hall swing open, and Hagrid marches in, his huge form making the eleven year olds behind him looking even smaller than they are.
Harry, sitting on Hermione's other side, his arm around Ron's sister Ginny, exhales a satisfied sigh. "Now I know we're back to normal. Another year at Hogwarts, another Sorting -" but he breaks off and stares, along with the rest of the seated students, when the the new first years quietly sit down at the top of the Hufflepuff table, and Hagrid, looking unwontedly serious, does the same amongst the teachers.
"What-?" begins Ron, but he is prodded into silence when Professor Flitwick, looking dignified despite his tiny size, comes to stand in front of the High Table. The students realise that something is happening, and quiet falls on the hall, broken only by rustling robes, shuffling feet, and the odd tearful murmur from the young children at the front.
A loud knock sounds three times on the double doors which everyone realises have been closed again. Hermione's face breaks into a wide smile, as do those of Luna Lovegood, Ginny Weasley, and Neville Longbottom. Ron and Harry exchange puzzled looks; evidently they are missing something.
"Who goes there?" Flitwick demands, his squeaky voice amplified to fill the hall and echo off the beams.
"Minerva McGonagall," comes the familiar brisk tones of the Deputy Headmistress, only slightly muffled by the door.
"What do you wish with us, Minerva McGonagall?" Flitwick asks, his seriousness diluted by the sudden smile that splits his face in two.
"I come to take my place as Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Will you grant me entry?"
Flitwick looks down the long tables of students, their faces alive with curiosity, and smiles again. "Children of Hogwarts, do you accept Minerva McGonagall as your Headmistress?"
The students look at him blankly. Few of them have ever heard of this ancient ceremony, but they get the idea when Neville, his jaw firm, rises. "I do." He is followed by the rest of Dumbledore's Army and Gryffindor as a whole. The other houses rise more slowly, but within a few moments the entire school is on its feet - even the Slytherins, even Draco Malfoy, his silver eyes gleaming in his face.
"Minerva McGonagall, the Children of Hogwarts have spoken. Come forth and take your rightful place." Flitwick cannot resist a tiny bounce of excitement as he finishes, and many students exchange glances of affectionate amusement - but it is forgotten as the double doors open again, and their new Headmistress enters.
They blink, for they have never seen Professor McGonagall look as she does now. Accustomed to seeing her with glasses, tightly coiled bun, and neat emerald and black robes, many of them are startled by the elaborate robes she wears. An under-robe cloth-of-gold ("No-one can make cloth-of-gold like witches can," Hermione whispers to Ron in an aside) is covered by a heavy outer robe that would not have looked out of place on the late Albus Dumbledore. At first glance it seems to be simply heavy black silk embroidered in silver and gold, but a second glance shows that the silk is shot with the colours of the four houses: red and green and blue and yellow. The embroidery shows four animals gamboling together, the Slytherin serpent with the Gryffindor lion, the badger of Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw's eagle. Her dark hair flows down her back, making her almost more unrecognisable than her clothing does.
"Wow," is all Ron can mumble, all thoughts of food forgotten.
"She looks fantastic!" Hermione breathes.
"Wait til you see what happens next," Luna says, the berries dangling at her ears swinging with more than their usual enthusiasm.
They watch as she walks slowly up the long aisle in the centre of the room, moving with a steadiness that some of them know must cost her something; she spent most of the summer leaning on a cane as a result of damage sustained in battle, and is not yet completely recovered.
Before she reaches the dais, Hagrid and Professors Sprout and Slughorn join Flitwick. Their faces are grave, and Harry, Ron and Hermione realise that their half-giant friend is garbed with more formality than they have ever seen from him.
McGonagall gives them a small bow before picking up her robes and mounting the three small steps that brings her to the great throne-like chair. She stands in front of it for a moment, her back to the students, and the older ones see her stiffen her shoulders before she turns to face them.
A complete hush falls on the room. Flitwick steps forward once again.
"Minerva of Gryffindor, you have been acclaimed Headmistress of Hogwarts. Will you swear to lead us in good times and in bad, to uphold the Light, and to preserve in your person all the Hogwarts once was and must be again?"
"I do so swear."
Flitwick nods at her and she sits, looking, even with her height, absurdly small and frail in the Chair. "Will you be guided by the wisdom of Ravenclaw?"
"I will."
Carefully, reverently, he levitates the diadem of Ravenclaw onto her head, and Harry starts violently. Hermione encloses his wrist in a firm grip.
"Don't. They purified it, remember?"
Next comes Hagrid, his beard wobbling with his emotion. His voice, when he speaks, is gruff. "Will yeh defend us with the bravery of Gryffindor, and use this Sword as only a true Gryffindor can?"
The students see McGonagall smile slightly and give Hagrid's hand a quick pat as he gives her the Sword of Gryffindor. "I will!"
Then there was Professor Sprout, and she uses both hands to deposit Hufflepuff's cup, her plump face quiet and grave. "Will you lead us as a whole and not merely Houses, remembering that without each of its pillars Hogwarts cannot stand?"
"I will." McGonagall's voice, that rang with such vibrancy a moment before, comes with low forcefulness now.
The tension in the air becomes almost palpable as Slughorn puffs over to her, and a long sigh comes from the hall as they spy a glimmer of gold as she inclines her head to allow him place Slytherin's locket around her neck. "Will you - whew - remember that bravery without cunning is often recklessness, and - puff - guide us with ambition as well as courage, intelligence and loyalty to be the best we can be?"
"I will!"
The four Heads of House bowed, deeply and formally, before stepping back to their seats. Only Flitwick remained. "Hogwarts, I present to you your duly sworn Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall!" A shot of golden sparks came from his wand, and, taking the cue, the students did likewise, laughing and twirling as their golden sparks turned into singing birds before fading into nothingness.
The Headmistress stands as the laughter and singing falls away. With a swift flick of her wand she conjurs a table on which to put sword, locket, and diadem. Another flick sends the Chair to its proper place in the centre of the High Table. Only then does she step over to the lectern, where the owl spreads its wings to support her weight as she leans on it.
For a moment as she stares at her students - all truly hers now - something glimmers in the grey eyes behind the square spectacles and is gone again. She clears her throat. "Thank you for your acclamation, and welcome back, students, both old and new!" She clears her throat again. "I have a good deal to say to you, but I know you're all probably hungry. Eat first and then I expect your full attention after!" The glare with which she finishes - beady eyes over the top of her glasses - is so blessedly familiar that the students dare to grin back at her. She sniffs and snaps her fingers, causing food to materialise in the empty bowls and plates that line the long tables. "Eat!"
***
The sound of silver tinkling on the finest goblin-crafted crystal causes the gentle hum to still.
"Welcome to Hogawarts," the Headmistress begins rather stiffly. Headmaster Dumbledore used to spread his arms in a literal and physical gesture of welcome, but that is not the way of his one-time Deputy Headmistress. "It is a wonderful and marvellous thing that I can say that to you. You all know what happened last June and how much rebuilding we had to do. Indeed, if it wasn't for the hard work many of you put in yourselves, I doubt we'd be here this evening, looking forward to a new school year that will, we hope, be free once again from the taint of darkness." For a moment Minerva McGonagall looks fierce, and her fierceness is echoed in the faces beside her at the High Table, and the young ones below.
"Rebuild. That's going to be our motto this year. No more divisions. We're going to be the phoenix that rises from the ashes of war and we are going to stand together. For example!" A gasp comes from the four corners of the hall as a series of banners unfurl up and down its length. Once these would have been House banners, but now they show arms quartered with the badger, the eagle, the snake and the lion.
A grim smile crosses her features at the dropped jaws. "Yes. I see you understand, or are beginning to do so. House divisions have ultimately brought our world to war twice during the past fifty years. No more."
She waves her hand again in a peremptory demand for silence as a low murmur begins to build. "That is not to say that you will no longer be Sorted. You will. But now..." She pauses and her rare smile bursts forth. "For more years than I care to remember, I have greeted First Years at the front door by telling them that their Houses will be the most important thing about their time here, that their houses will be their families ... I am sure you all remember the speech!" A titter comes here and there, mostly from the Gryffindors.
She leans forward on the owl headed stand, her features returned to their customary sternness. "I want you to forget all that. It was wrong. The most important thing about your time here is you. What you learn. What you achieve. How you work alone, and how you work with others. You all heard what I swore: I charge each and every one of you to do the same!"
"Er, Professor?" a voice ventures from amongst the Gryffindors, and McGonagall tries and fails to repress a smile.
"Yes, Mr Potter?"
Harry Potter rises and stands very straight. She is saddened to see that he still holds himself with the wariness of one who has been on the run for too long - yet there is a new peace as his eyes as they meet hers. "If we're still being Sorted, but not in houses any more... how does that work? I mean, I'm all for co-operation," his eyes drop and he looks his age again, "but how will it actually work?"
She looks at him over the top of her square spectacles. "You may be the Boy Who Lived Twice, Mr Potter, but I see patience is no more a virtue of yours than it ever was." Her dry tone causes Harry to flush and grin, but he stays where he is, his gaze unwavering, and she sighs before saying in a different tone, "Very well, I'll cut to the chase. Now sit down, will you?"
Harry flashes her a grin that she would call cheeky from anyone else (and how often Severus had, indeed, called him that...) and obeys. She sniffs. "I don't remember either of our last two Heads being interrupted in such a fashion at the Welcome Feast. New times are upon us indeed!"
There is a moment of agonising silence as last year's Sixth and Seventh Years visibly wince, but one by one she sees their shoulders stiffen and their heads come up. She meets their eyes face on, nodding slightly in acknowledgement of what they had endured together during those eternal nine months when the Carrows reigned supreme. Then the tension suddenly relaxes as Dennis Creevy is heard to mutter, "Well, it must be new when McGonagall can crack a joke!" and everyone laughs.
"Headmistress McGonagall, if you please, Mr Creevy!" Professor Flitwick pipes up from the High Table, and the children grin again.
"Thank you, Professor," she nods. "Now, if I might continue?" The rapt faces below tells her to go on. "We're a much bigger school this year than we've been for some time. Not only do we have last year's Seventh Year repeating, but the war has left our community with a number of children who have no-where else to go." Her gaze softens as it rests on the smallest children, the ones sitting at the old Hufflepuff table towards the front and huddling together like threatened chicks. "They will not be Sorted. For now, they will live in the Sett with Professor Sprout to oversee them." A protest comes from the Hufflepuffs and she raises a hand for silence that comes almost reluctantly.
"Nor are you Hufflepuffs the only ones to be moved." Her jaw hardens. "Many of you will find yourselves being uprooted, I'm afraid, for the Dungeons are to be turned over to First and Second Years. The Third, Fourth and Fifth will go to Gryffindor Tower, whilst the Sixth, Seventh and Eighth will be in Ravenclaw."
The silence now is breathless. One could almost hear a feather drop, let alone a pin.
"I think it's a wonderful idea," Luna Lovegood says dreamily into the hush.
"That's easy for you to say, you'll still be in Ravenclaw," Ron Weasley tells her grumpily, rather less sotto voce than he had intended, if his suddenly florid face is any indication.
"It's just as well you haven't been permitted to unpack yet, isn't it, Mr Weasley?" Minerva asks blandly, and he flushes again, all the way up to the tips of his ears. "So now you know. That's why hardly any of you have been allowed to settle in and why supper is so much earlier this evening."
"What about lessons?" Hermione Granger puts in suddenly and predictably, and Minerva mentally curses every one of her beloved erstwhile Gryffindors. At this rate they will be here all night!
"You will be mixed for all lessons from now on."
"The houses really won't matter any more, will they?" Hannah Abbott puts in from her seat beside Neville.
"Not as they have done, no. You will still have housepoints" - most of the school groans - "and house quidditch teams. Other than that, we want you all to start thinking of yourselves as Hogwartians first rather than last."
The young faces look so dubious that she sees further conviction is necessary and speaks with a passion that has had all summer long to brew. "Don't you understand? Rivalries begun here in school translate into the world beyond - and yes, I admit that my House along with Slytherin has been most at fault. Hufflepuff has always cared more for the school as a body and Ravenclaw tends to ignore petty squabbles, but the enmity between Slytherin and Gryffindor has become a byword. Well, no more!" She brings her hand down on her lectern with such force that students and staff alike jump violently and the owl flaps its golden wings indignantly, momentarily throwing her off-balance.
"We must forget old habits. All the houses are important, all! Without Severus Snape and his distinctively Slytherin mode of operating, we would not be here today. Some of you were in Dumbledore's Army - both times. That's what we want to emulate now, students from every house working together in amity to develop the best of each. Because of that, we're going to elect four students who will act as visible respresentations of their houses. Those students are: Hannah Abbott for Hufflepuff, Luna Lovegood for Ravenclaw, Neville Longbottom for Gryffindor and Draco Malfoy for Slytherin."
"What? Professor, you can't!" Ron Weasley is on his feet, glaring, and she is startled by how tall he is. Somewhere in some part of her mind he remains an eleven year old...
"Didn't you hear what I said, Mr Weasley?" she demands with all her old sharpness. "Unity and understanding are what we must strive for, and to do that we must have students who represent their Houses most fully. Mr Malfoy has paid dearly for his crimes and he remains a focal point for Slytherin." She throws the blonde lad a glance, noting with some satisfaction that her bombshell has momentarily jerked him out of the depression that has dogged him since June.
"Well, what about Harry, then?" Ron demands, obviously determined to be confrontational. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Filius prepare to remonstrate, and turns to silently warn him off.
"What about Mr Potter?"
"Shouldn't he be Gryffindor? After all, he's the one who killed Voldemort, not Neville -"
"Ron, shut up!" Harry says, red to the roots of his black hair.
"I'm just saying -"
"You don't know what you're talking about," Hannah Abbot interrupts, her tone so contemptuous that even Minerva hesitates. "Whilst you three were off chasing Horcruxes last year we were fighting a battle of our own right here. Without Neville, it'd have been much worse." She looks up at Minerva and the older woman gives her a slight, understanding nod. Hannah grins and raises her wand. "Dumbledore's Army!"
One by one the students who had fought under Neville's command in June rise to their feet. Dennis Creevy, his small face looking smaller than ever. The Patil twins. Lavender, her lovely face permanently disfigured. Luna, serene as always. Seamus Finnigan. Michael Corner. And, red head held high, the youngest Weasley.
"Ginny!" Ron protests, betrayal in every note.
Ginevra gives a flick of her ruddy mane. "Hannah's right," she says softly with a quick glance up to the High Table. "You weren't here. We were tortured, don't you understand? The teachers couldn't do anything, even Sn - Snape, although now we know he tried. Harry did what he had to do. I'm not knocking that," she adds hastily, reaching a hand to Harry, "but still, it was your destiny, wasn't it?"
Minerva watches as Harry nods dumbly, and pride wells within her for all of them.
"Neville didn't have to, Ron. He wasn't acting according to some prophecy. Well, not that he knew then..." The girl stops speaking, draws herself up to her full height, and turns to Neville before saluting him sharply. "Sir."
Ron watches, wide-eyed and slack-jawed, as the other members of Dumbledore's Army follow his sister's example, and Minerva takes advantage of his shock. "Thank you, Miss Weasley," she says. "I too applaud Commander Longbottom's actions." She looks directly at Neville and blinks away sudden tears as he meets her gaze squarely with no trace of his old hesitation, showing her unequivocally the man he has become.
"The four students I have named will liase with each other. To you, I will say: each of you has a deep understanding of your Houses' traditional mindset and priorities. I ask that you put aside old prejudices and work together to build a new Hogwarts. This is especially important because we aren't having prefects or Head Girl and Boy this year. It's simply too complicated and all of those positions require a lot of extracurricular work that we don't want to ask anyone to undertake, no matter how much you may wish to do so." Minerva's gaze lingers understandingly on Hermione Granger's bent head. In any other year, under any other circumstances...
She shifts, trying to hide her discomfort from the watching eyes of the students. She has spent most of the summer leaning on the cane she thought she'd abandoned forever two years ago, and had to argue strenuously with Poppy Pomfrey to be allowed to leave it aside tonight. Now, as sudden weariness asails her and weakens her knees, she leans more heavily on the lectern, noting with gratitude that it seems to meld itself to her needs, providing support where she requires it most.
"Nor are these the only changes this year. We are adding two new subjects to your timetables - all of them, from the First Year right through to the Eighth. Even the little ones in the Sett will study something of them. Wizarding Ethics will examine the spells you are taught and ask you to evaluate their use more thoroughly than you can in a normal classroom scenario. Cultural Studies will combine Muggle Studies with History of Magic; it is important that purebloods and muggleborns come to know and appreciate each other's backgrounds more thoroughly. We teachers will take it in turn to teach W.E., and Cultural Studies will be taught part-time by two new professors: Arthur Weasley and Andromeda Tonks."
"Will we need to take OWLs and NEWTs in these, Professor?" Dennis Creevy asks, looking almost comically alarmed.
"Not unless you wish to do so. In the future it may become necessary, but that's something for your Heads of Houses. We have other new staff members to announce - Bill Weasley, who will be teaching Defense, and his mother, Molly, will be coming to help Madam Pomfrey in the hospital wing. She will also teach the children in the Sett. Please, welcome them!" She gives them her rare smile as the four new teachers enter the hall and walk up to the staff table.
Down amongst the Gryffindors, Ron was quietly and methodically thumping his head against the table. "Wait til I find out who came up with this," he muttered. "Honestly, all of my bloody family here? I'll never get any peace!"
"That's the idea, Ronniekins," Ginny smirks at him from across the table, but before he can retort, the Headmistress is speaking again.
"Just one more thing before I finish off. Madam Weasley and Professor Tonks, like the Heads of Houses, will be available to you all should you feel the need to talk to someone." Minerva leans forward, her eyes intent behind her glasses. "You have all suffered in different ways during this war. You've all lost something. Please, do not bottle things up." Her eyes linger on Harry for a moment. "Talk to someone. Most of us were there too - we do, I assure you, understand how you feel." She straightens again. "That's all. Now, your trunks have been taken to the appropriate dormitories. Juniors, Professor Sprout will show you where to go, and Professor Slughorn will do the same for the First, Second and Third Years. Fourth and Fifth Years, Mr Longbottom will give you the password for Gryffindor Tower, and Miss Lovegood will assist those of you in the Sixth, Seventh and Eighth." She waves a hand and the floating candles go out, leaving the Great Hall lit by the lamps along the side. "Goodnight."
Moving more quietly than in previous years, the students begin to weave their way out of the hall. They are rather stunned. A new age is come indeed.
-fin.