Snapped: Departures

September 1, 1993

The Hogwarts Express was late. No one noticed.

If you'd asked the third-year class, they'd have nigh-unanimously declared that Hermione Granger was the most observant and analytical student of their year - if anyone would notice things, one would expect it to be her.

Hermione had much different problems on her mind. One moment, she'd been chattering happily on, her parents a half-step behind on either side of her school trunk. She was just expounding on a particularly fascinating discovery from recent Wizarding history, turned to gesture excitedly, and found both her parents had vanished.

She might not have panicked, but that was when the screaming started.

Petunia Dursley, accompanying her completely normal family on the yearly trip to deliver her decidedly non-ordinary nephew to his decidedly abnormal school train, was a perfectly ordinary wife and mother.

Then she abruptly ceased being either of those things.

It doesn't matter how determined one is to be normal, when one's husband dissolves before one's eyes it tends to leave a considerable mark on one's psyche. She screamed. Harry Potter, her nephew, span round and drew his wand.

"M-mum?! Dudley asked, his blubbering voice clearly panicked as he too began to come apart. "What's ha-"

Vernon hadn't even had a chance to speak.

Petunia just stood there, shock and disbelief rooting her to the spot, as the last fragments of her son's existence disappeared into drifting ash.

Harry stared as well, holding tight to his wand. He looked around, instinctively searching for an enemy, and Petunia briefly wondered what sort of education they got at that freak school, before understanding hit her. This was real. This was real. Her husband, her son, had just vanished. And not the going-somewhere-with-magic type either, the something-freaky-happened kind.

The irreversible kind. Petunia sank to her knees, tears already slipping down her face as her stunned emotions reasserted themselves. And for once in her carefully-ordered life, she didn't care who saw.

Ron Weasley thought it was a joke.

Fred and George had just grabbed Percy by the arms, trying to convince him of something, when all three of them began wisping away. It was something Ron hadn't seen before, so he laughed.

"Nice effect," he said, grinning.

"What are you doing?" Percy demanded. "Unhand me, you should have more resp-"

Fred and George exchanged one brief, panicked look, and it was that speechlessness that would have convinced Ron that all was not right, had he not been distracted.

"Aw, did one of your stupid pranks go wrong?" Draco Malfoy just had to choose that moment to butt in. Ron turned to face him, and thus did not see as his three elder brothers vanished forever. He did see Draco beginning to fade, a slight frown crossing the richer boy's face as he realized something was wrong. "If you've contaminated me with your nasty Weasley garbage, you'll be hearing-" and then Draco was just gone.

Ron laughed, turning to his brothers. The laughter died as he saw nothing but ash. "Yeah, great prank and all," he said, a bit of unease slipping into his voice. "You can come back now. You got him good."

It was a long time before he truly realized that they weren't coming back.

There was more screaming outside the barrier than inside; though wizards dissolving into ash wasn't normal behavior, it wasn't as obviously bizarre an occurrence as it was in the Muggle station outside.

While Hermione stood with her trunk, stunned and confused, and Petunia quietly collapsed into tears, and Harry wondered awkwardly if he should be celebrating or trying to comfort his aunt, another family approached the barrier. Two young and enthusiastic children, one with a camera, the other tripping over his own feet in excitement, with their mother and father in tow. The parents were concerned by the commotion beginning to make itself heard, while the children remained oblivious. Colin saw Harry and waved cheerily.

"Harry! This is my brother, Dennis! He's not starting until next year, but he really wanted to meet you!"

The family followed Colin's lead and started toward Harry. None of the four reached him.

Harry hadn't quite grasped the weight of the situation. The muggles running and screaming could be a response to any number of wizardish things. Vernon and Dudley had never been his favourite people.

But watching the entire Creevey family vanish before him - walking toward him with smiles and eagerness one moment, gone completely the next - was the final crack. It shattered Harry's assumptions that everything was fine. He gasped and looked around, the chaos of the station becoming suddenly and vividly clear. His first thought was, Sirius Black? followed by Voldemort!

He saw Hermione, standing quite still, and rushed over to her. "We have to get onto the platform, it's not safe out here," he said, Seeker instincts for motion and action and speed and no hesitation coming to the fore.

"Harry," she said, but her voice didn't sound like it usually did. It sounded as helpless and lost as any sound Harry had ever heard or could possibly have imagined. "Harry," she said again, more quietly, and grabbed him in a fierce, desperate hug. "They're gone," she whispered.

He permitted it a few moments, the two of them a quiet unmoving island amid the chaos, then he pulled back. "We have to get to safety," he said quietly. "Onto the platform. Someone will know what to do."

"I don't think there's anything we can do," Hermione said, her voice still sounding distant, empty and very unlike her.

Harry swallowed, remembering the repetitively moving photographs that were the only remnant of his own parents. "We have to try."

Hermione nodded, but he could see she didn't believe it would do any good. Honestly, he didn't either.

While there was less screaming and obvious panic inside Platform 9 3/4 than the muggle station outside, it was no less chaotic. Lucius Malfoy and his wife were having a very loud argument with Mrs. Weasley, who was alternately sobbing and shouting. Ron kept staring at the ground, waiting for a punchline that never materialized. Ginny clung to her mother.

The platform should have been crowded. It wasn't. Oh, there were dozens of witches and wizards, but nowhere near the press that should have been present. And everywhere Harry looked, lives were broken. Parents without their children - the Malfoys, Harry realized; Draco was nowhere to be seen. And for once he was not glad of it - or children without their parents.

Hermione still held his hand, clinging to him with an empty desperation that he supposed he would feel too if he'd had anyone to lose.

The train arrived at the platform at twenty-three past noon. Its usual conductor had vanished along with half the populace of the earth, and it had taken some time to locate where it had stopped even after finding a replacement driver on short notice. Not everyone was qualified to run the magical train, and quite frankly it was not the first thing on anyone's mind.

Had not Minerva McGonagall insisted that bringing the students to Hogwarts immediately would be safest for them all, it might not have been noticed for days.

Their Defence professor, who'd been planning to take the train with the students, never arrived. That was another blow, but only slight. Albus Dumbledore was gone. Pomona Sprout, head of Hufflepuff house, was gone.

Hogwarts itself had proved no protection, regardless of the charms and enchantments protecting it. This was no act of magic, it was a power beyond. One that ignored shields rather than ripping through them.

It was bloody terrifying.

Due to the magic built into the Hogwarts Express, the train ride took exactly as long as necessary to reach Hogsmeade Station at its scheduled arrival time. It technically needn't have departed for hours yet, but it was a long-respected Hogwarts tradition that students spend the first of the month riding to their new school. Whatever else may have changed, Minerva did not intend to cause any more disruptions to normalcy than necessary.

The rest of the world may be descending into utter chaos, but Hogwarts would remain as it had ever remained, a rock of learning and tradition around which the ripples of the world would flow. The chaos did mean that they must make due with such staff as they had for the time being, which necessitated her other announcement, however much it pained her.

Two prefects could not run an entire House, even at its reduced occupancy. Both sixth years, going into their NEWT years. No, it would not do to make them responsible for the entire house, decrease in size notwithstanding.

She took a deep, calming breath, then stood and crossed to the podium.

"Welcome, Hogwarts students." Her voice shook almost imperceptibly as the image of Albus Dumbledore, who by all rights should have been standing here, flashed through her mind. She'd known for years that she would one day take over the school, when he had to attend to other matters or finally retired, but never had she anticipated it being thrust upon her so suddenly. So tragically.

"It is with the deepest sadness that I must announce some major changes to this year's teaching arrangements. Due to this morning's tragic. . . events, several of our classes will be combined or postponed. Details will be added to your timetables, which I will distribute in the morning. In short, Astronomy classes will be covered by Septima Vector as well as her Arithmancy, and the frequency of each will be decreased. Severus Snape will be filling in as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher as well as covering his usual Potions, and these will be less frequent as well."

She hesitated, half expecting a raucous cheer from the Weasley contingent at the Griffindor table at the thought of fewer Potions lessons, but a glance showed only two of the five sitting there. Minerva's heart broke a little more. She had been scrambling to fill in staff positions with anyone available, and had yet to receive the complete student casualty lists. She carefully did not think about it, but it looked like the tables were roughly half their usual size.

"And. . . there is one other major change. It is with the utmost regret that I must announce the temporary dissolvance of House Hufflepuff. Until such time as we can locate a new Head of House, you will each choose another house to integrate with in the interim. Please discuss among yourselves how best to divide up, I would prefer an even distribution between the three remaining houses. Silvanis Kettleburn will be covering Herbology lessons as well as his usual Care of Magical Creatures elective. Thank you."

She seated herself, amid the quiet whispers of a dissolved House, and the feast appeared in all its usual glory.

She doubted she would be the only one with no appetite for it.

Neville Longbottom didn't say anything. He sat at his usual seat near Harry, Ron, and Hermione but not quite with them - and stared down at the simple piece of parchment his grandmother's owl had delivered.

I'm terribly sorry, it read, the words even less clear than usual. Be strong, Neville.

The second page was a form letter, obviously copied out in haste, which informed the appropriate family members that Frank and Alice Longbottom had suddenly and unexpectedly passed away that morning.

Neville had known they weren't coming back, that their condition was irreversible, but they'd been alive. There was still hope. And love, however disguised beneath madness. Now, there was nothing. Only himself and his grandmother. He knew he should be grateful that she had survived, but he couldn't even begin to conjure up the positive energy it would require.

He could only stare, rereading those terrible, cold, empty words. And again, and again.

Harry had known the moment Snape had called out, "First years, follow me this way," instead of the familiar accented boom of Hagrid's usual call. He hadn't wanted to accept it. He resolutely ignored the knowledge, insisting to himself that Hagrid was merely busy preparing for another year. That he'd perhaps fallen ill, or hatched another three-headed dog, or- something.

He waited until the first two classes of the day were over, when everyone was dismissed to lunch, and ran out to Hagrid's hut instead. Fang saw him coming and set to howling. No one told the dog to be quiet, which was a very bad sign. Harry's heart sank another few steps.

Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without Hagrid, just as it wouldn't be the same without Professor Dumbledore, or without Fred and George and Percy. Harry shivered, though the air wasn't chilled. He pressed on anyway, crossing to Hagrid's hut. Fang barked and scratched at the door. Harry knocked, straining for any sound of Hagrid's familiar voice telling Fang off, any thud of his footsteps or clatter of his pots to indicate he was cooking something inedible.

There was nothing but Fang, barking and whimpering, and Harry pounded louder on the door as though sheer stubborness could force Hagrid to come and open it.

He didn't realize he was crying.

"Come away, Mr. Potter," said a quiet male voice behind him. "He's gone. It's no use knocking."

"Why?" Harry asked, emotion making it both louder and fainter than usual. He scrubbed his face on his sleeves, trying to regain his composure. "What happened?"

"No one knows. It doesn't seem to have been targeted at anyone specifically. Whatever it was it occurred globally over the course of ten minutes, and nothing since."

Harry turned around, surprised by the honesty. He wasn't used to being informed of things so unhesitatingly. The man behind him wasn't one he recognized. Dark-haired, with a neat beard and haunted eyes.

"Who are you?"

"A survivor of your parents' war," the man replied. "I fought Voldemort for years, right up to the day you stopped him. And I came here today to right a great wrong, only to find that fate took care of things for me." He chuckled darkly. "If there is one good thing about this all, at least your parents are avenged, though I could wish it had been by my hand."

"But who are you?" Harry asked. He had photographs of several of his parents' friends, and couldn't place the stranger in any of them.

He smiled, but it was a forced kind of expression. Harry thought it looked as though he wanted to smile but had forgotten how to infuse it with any warmth.

"My friends called me Padfoot," he said. "It wouldn't be safe to mention my full name, but I can promise you, Harry. Now that my previous goals are fulfilled, I only want to help and protect you in any way I can."

"Me specifically?" Harry asked.

"You specifically," Padfoot repeated. "I've respected your family since I was young, and from what I saw this summer you aren't exactly. . . well-loved. You deserve better."

Harry regarded him silently for a long moment. Fang howled, and Hagrid did not appear.

"You were watching me this summer?" he asked, quietly.

"I wanted to be sure you were safe. And I wasn't. . . well-off then. I couldn't have approached you, it would have turned out badly for everyone. The only reason I'm here now is because of the. . ." he waved his hand in a helpless sort of gesture, that reminded Harry sickeningly of how Dudley had looked as he disappeared.

"I never wanted them dead," Harry said, feeling oddly choked. "We didn't get along well, but they were still family. I never. . ."

"I understand completely. I once had a brother." Padfoot's voice sank to almost a whisper. "It didn't end well. But I never would have wished it on him."

Harry nodded, fighting tears and nausea. He had left Aunt Petunia alone in the station, hadn't even considered her feelings. He hoped she'd gotten home safely, then wondered what she'd do once she got there. Wondered what was happening to society in general, for that matter. Inside Hogwarts things were traumatic enough, but at least it was an enclosed environment that could be controlled. The world in general wasn't so contained, nor so well controlled.

"What's it like, out there?" Harry asked quietly.

Padfoot shook his head. "It's absolute chaos. People are angry, hurt, broken. For each person ranting about the apocalypse, there's a dozen more who choose to die rather than face it. Early numbers indicate we may have lost half the population in the event itself, but we're going to lose a whole lot more before this is over."

"Will we survive?" Harry asked.

"You and I, absolutely. Wizards as a whole, certainly. There's enough redundancy built into the Ministry that they'll be back up and running in no time. We survived Grindelwald, we survived Voldemort, and we'll survive this. You'll see."

"But everyone else? All the muggles?"

Padfoot sighed. "I don't know, Harry. Some extremely important people are gone now, and it's going to take time for things to settle. Wizards have the advantage of a close-knit community, one that's already weathered one period of terrible loss, one where we know we can rely on each other. The muggles. . . they're more fragmented. And I really don't know enough about them to guess."

Fang's howling had slowed to an occasional bark, seemingly resigned to his loneliness.

"Don't worry about him," Padfoot said as Harry glanced guiltily toward the door. "I'll take care of him. And you should get to lunch."

"I'm not hungry," Harry said, sure he wouldn't be able to eat. He had barely touched his food since this whole mess began.

"You should at least try. Take care of yourself, Harry. And I'll see you again soon."

Harry nodded dully and turned to trudge back up to the castle. By the time he thought to look back, Hagrid's door stood open and both Fang and the stranger were gone.

Author's Notes:

Well, that went on longer than I'd anticipated. It could probably be expanded nigh-indefinitely from there, but I'm relatively satisfied with it as-is. There's obviously a lot of tragedy and sadness, but also the potential of hope. I've changed things around a bit from canon '93 for the purpose of this story. Does that make it AU? Not sure. Where do the AU lines lay, and by what measure are they wrought?