Chapter Four:

HESTIA JONES

The unknown witch behind them had lit her wand, revealing herself as tall and slender with long black curls and the faintest trace of a mischievous smile. She wore robes of a dark rose and laced-up boots that matched her conical hat of deep brown leather. If Harry had been forced to guess, he would have said she was no more than thirty, though it wasn't one of his better skills.

"Hey, I know you!" Ron said. "You're…you're Whatsherface from the Order. You hang around with Lupin and Tonks and them."

Her eyebrows raised a little. "Well-spotted," she said in a tone of voice that left Harry wondering whether she was impressed with Ron for remembering her, or slightly snubbed that he referred to her as "Whatsherface".

"Name is Hestia Jones—or Professor Jones, if you will," she corrected herself with a slight bow. "And I know who you all are, of course."

A light bulb clicked on in Harry's brain. He had seen Hestia Jones before, last year at the Dursleys', as a part of the Advance Guard that escorted him to Grimmauld Place. He remembered she had looked a lot brighter then, and cheerier…although that could be because they were now standing in a darkly lit path under much more dire circumstances.

"In any case, Evan Rosier has been dead for fifteen years—but Tobias Rosier and his sister Alexandra happen to be niece and nephew as well," she continued.

"Hang on," said Ginny. "You're their aunt? They've told me about you before. But wouldn't that make you—"

"Evan Rosier's wife?" said Hestia Jones, chuckling. "Hardly. I'm related to them on their mother's side. The relation between me and the late Rosier is purely coincidental…"

She looked to her right and flashed her wand red for a second. Harry swiveled his head to where she was looking, and saw an answering red glow in the darkness. He peered and tried to see who it was, but saw only a shadow slinking back into the darkness.

"Who was—" he began.

"Never mind that," she said. "It doesn't matter."

Harry looked at her, trying to read her features, a feeling growing in his stomach. His grip tightened over his wand.

If that was a Death Eater…if she was trying to alert their side, give them a clue and tell them that she had Harry Potter in her custody…if she is a spy for Voldemort and was placed in the Order because Dumbledore thought he could trust her…

His mind was whirring and the knot of dread in his gut tightened. The older witch's face was impassive, he couldn't tell whether the thoughts running through her head were those of a servant of the Dark Lord—thinking about how pleased her master would be if she grabbed hold of Harry Potter and Apparated to Voldemort's side—or whether she was simply thinking about getting him and the last of the students inside of Hogwarts safely and being able to eat at the start-of-term feast…

"I think we're the last ones…" Ron trailed.

"You are," said Hestia Jones. "Unless there's something you know that I don't? I'm supposed to be the last escort for the lot of you."

She brought her wand up again, and Harry tensed, his grip on his own getting tighter. But she only whispered the incantation he knew far too well, and a large, silver animal erupted from her wand and ran off down the path in front of them before Harry could clearly see what its form was.

She caught him watching her. "I understand you were able to make one at thirteen. You've certainly got a leg up on your father in that regard, and that's hard to do."

Harry blinked at the mention of his father, but didn't say anything. Ron and Hermione kept looking from Harry to their new professor, wondering what was going on, but Harry didn't bother to give an answer.

A silver form came gliding up to them and stopped in front of Professor Jones, but it wasn't the large animal that had left her wand moments before. She reached out to touch the raven Patronus. It cawed irritably and flew off without further notice.

"All right, the way is clear. If you lot don't mind, we need to be getting a move on," she said quietly. "We're being guarded, but they can't hold the wards for much longer. Come now."

They followed her down the path, matching her brisk stride with their own. The lights weren't on anymore in the train compartments, Harry now noticed, which succeeded in making them safer under the cover of darkness.

The ground was wet and muddy and his feet squelched when he walked. He wished he had boots like Professor Jones instead of his old trainers that were practically falling apart—he made a mental note to buy some new ones first Hogsmeade trip that came up.

He shivered as they walked, and pulled his cloak tighter around him. The air was frosty for a September night, probably left over from the rain and hail from before.

"What's that?" Ginny asked, pointing at the silvery corner that was now poking out of Harry's sleeve.

"Nothing," he said hastily and stuffed the Cloak down further. But Ginny continued to stare at him shrewdly as they walked down the path that everyone else had taken, alongside the train tracks.

Something started niggling at Harry's mind. Stuffing. Stuffing my Cloak, no, stuffing something else—

He grabbed a hold of the back of Ron's robes and pulled him back, away from the others.

"Oy!"

"Ron—I've just remembered—"

"Gerroff me!"

"Shut up and listen! We weren't the last ones off the train!"

That got Ron to calm down.

"Ron, Malfoy's still back there! He was Stunned, remember? Him and Crabbe and Goyle—"

"What? Harry, I'm not—"

"Six people Stunned them! That much power could knock someone out for a week. They've got to still be there, and the Order wouldn't know about it because we hid them in the luggage rack—"

Ron blinked. "So, what, you reckon we should tell Professor Jones—?"

Harry hesitated.

"No," Ron said shortly.

"But doesn't that seem…I mean, he's still a student…"

"No," Ron said firmly. "Harry, his dad was at the Department of Mysteries! We almost died because of Malfoy's father! Think about it. If there are Death Eaters hanging around here, do you think they would try to off three known Death Eaters' sons? They'd probably just pick them up, dust them off, and send them running to school like good little boys. We're not going to risk our own necks by going back and getting them. I'm not going to do that for a Slytherin! Especially not after what they did to me."

Ron was right, Harry knew. Malfoy and his two cronies weren't in any danger being left back there. But it just didn't seem right to leave them like that.

"Fine," he said. "But as soon as we get back, we're telling someone. As much as I hate him and wish he would lock himself up in one of those foul dungeons and toss the key in the lake…he's…well, I mean, he's still one of Dumbledore's students, and…well, I reckon Dumbledore would want to know."

Ron stared at him. "You're becoming far too much like Hermione for your own good."

Harry smiled, relieved that Ron wasn't adamantly insisting they do nothing. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"I'm still deciding."

They hurried to catch up with the others.

"Professor?" Hermione was saying, "If you don't mind my asking, which subject will you be teaching?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," the older witch answered. "Just for this year, though. Wish I could say it'll be for longer, but I know full well the curse on this job, and I'd rather be walking out of these gates next spring than be carried out on a stretcher…"

"Curse?" said Harry, joining in on the conversation in time to hear that part. "What curse?"

Professor Jones laughed lightly. "Tell me, Harry, how many professors for this post have you had since you started Hogwarts?"

"Six." Harry didn't even have to think about it. "Counting you, of course."

"Right. And can you guess how many we had when I was at Hogwarts?"

"Seven," said Ginny, catching on.

"Got it in one. I'd bet you my mounted broomstick that if you were to ask everyone who's attended Hogwarts every seven years from now till around fifty years ago, they'll say the same thing," Professor Jones said in a grim voice, talking low. The other four had to lean in a bit to hear what she was saying.

"The job is jinxed," she continued. "Has been for some time now. It's been quite a job for Professor Dumbledore to have to come up with someone new and perfectly adequate every single year. Mind you, there are some who come back every few years or so—like that Quirinus Quirrell, incidentally. Big mistake that was…"

Harry stiffened at the memory and he saw Ron and Hermione exchange looks in the corner of his eye. Ginny looked nonplussed, not having been there the night when the other three went to the third-floor corridor and tried to stop Quirrell and Voldemort from stealing the Philosopher's Stone.

Something nagged at Harry's mind. He tried to dismiss it at first, but he realized by its persistence that it was too important to simply forget.

Before my first year, in Diagon Alley…Hagrid and I were there at Gringotts, getting the Philosopher's Stone, only I didn't know it at the time. But someone else knew it was there. Someone else sneaked into Gringotts and broke into vault seven-one-three and tried to take it. Only it wasn't there. It wasn't there, it was at the castle…at Hogwarts…where Voldemort sneaked in and tried to steal the Stone…

Voldemort…

And then it clicked. He looked up in horror, realization setting in.

Voldemort was there in June in the Ministry. Voldemort was there that day in Gringotts. Voldemort spent almost a year in Hogwarts…

What was it that Hagrid had said that year? "Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe—'cept maybe Hogwarts."

It was the three places. The three places that everyone said were the safest. That everyone said was impossible for anyone to break into. For anyone to come waltzing in, even the Darkest wizard of the century. For Voldemort to enter. But now…

We're not safe here. We're none of us safe here. Hogwarts is the one place where we're supposed to be safe from Voldemort. It was inevitable for the Ministry and Gringotts to fail us. But for Hogwarts…for Dumbledore…

Dumbledore had trusted Quirrell. He had to have, or he wouldn't have let him teach, especially with Harry there. If he had known that he was talking to a man with Voldemort on the back of his head…if he had known that when he escorted the DADA professor into his office that he was escorting Voldemort there…

And Moody. Professor Moody was Crouch Jr. the entire time, and Dumbledore never even knew. And don't even get me started on Snape…

All of which begged the question: Was it wise to trust everyone that Dumbledore did?

Harry tried to tell himself that it was because he had seen the Headmaster's vulnerability with such clear eyes the year before. If he had learned anything, it was that people made mistakes. And those mistakes came from the wrong choice, like Voldemort's decision to target him instead of Neville when they were born. And even if you were over a hundred years old like Dumbledore, the choices you made couldn't always be the best ones.

But in truth, Harry wasn't trying to look after himself more because he didn't trust Dumbledore's judgment. It was because he knew in his heart that something might happen to take not only Dumbledore's judgment away entirely, but everything else that it made up…

"Knut for your thoughts," said a voice beside him.

Harry jumped.

Professor Jones was walking beside him, her long cloak swishing in the cold, wet breeze. Harry wondered why he hadn't noticed her there before, and realized in the same instant that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny had moved a few yards ahead. They were still well within the reach of their new professor's watchful eye, but not too close that they would be able to hear whatever conversation Professor Jones had in mind.

"I saw you lagging behind and thought you could use someone to talk to," the older witch said quietly. "No one your age should ever have to look the way you have been looking lately."

"Yeah. Except that I have been," Harry said shortly.

They walked in silence for a moment. Harry supposed he shouldn't have snapped at her, but it seemed better than the alternative. His insides were still frozen at the chain of thoughts he had followed up. He didn't even know her…how could he know to trust her? She was in the Order, sure. But then again, so was Snape and he wasn't the best of confidants.

Dumbledore's word alone isn't enough for me anymore, he realized. I have to find out for myself whether someone is trustworthy or not. For my own safety.

As if she was reading his thoughts—which she could have been, Harry thought guardedly—she spoke up.

"Harry…I don't expect you to trust me. Goodness knows, if you did this early on in the game, I would have been surprised—and disappointed. You've earned your right to distrust people first and ask questions later. I understand."

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but she wasn't finished.

"But whatever you think of me, that is no excuse to disregard anything I may teach you in class," she said, her voice turning sharper. "Believe it or not, Professor Dumbledore hired me for a reason. Now, of all times, he would never have chosen me if he didn't think I could teach you what you'll be needing for what is to come. Are we clear?"

Harry closed his mouth and nodded. "Yes, Professor."

He tried not to let the wave of guilt overcome him too much. She was right, on both counts. It was all right for him to second-guess the headmaster…but not until he knew as much of the situation as Dumbledore did.

Harry heard Hermione gasp as they rounded the bend, coming into view of the Hogsmeade Station, and his head jerked up.

They could now see exactly why the train had stopped.

Right in front of Hogsmeade Station, a huge crater marked the middle of the place where the tracks should be. Harry saw pieces of gleaming metal in the bottom. The rest of the rails on either side of the hole were pulled back and twisted unnaturally.

"What did that?" Ginny asked.

"A spell," answered the professor. "A very powerful spell."

They all shivered, and Professor Jones motioned them to get into the last carriage.

Ron, Hermione, and Ginny climbed into it next to Luna, Neville, and the Ravenclaw Su Li who had been waiting for them. Noticing that they had one too many people as it was, they tried to sit closer together in order to make room for Harry—Hermione was practically sitting on Ron's lap, making the both of them turn pink.

"No, it's all right," Harry said, seeing how cramped they were. "You lot can go on ahead. I don't mind walking. If that's all right with you, Professor?"

She eyed him appraisingly and nodded.

Ron shrugged. "Your funeral," he said and made a show of rubbing the muscles in his legs to show how tired he was before closing the door.

The thestral pulling the carriage stopped grooming itself and started off down the walk at a and Professor Jones followed at a brisk walk. They rounded the bend and came to the tall iron-black gates that led to the Hogwarts grounds. Two statues of winged boars stood on either side of the gates, and beneath the metal-wrought Hogwarts crest that was set in the very middle of both gates, the school motto—

"'Draco Dormiens Nunquam Titillandus'," Harry read aloud, grimacing slightly at the first word.

"'Never tickle a sleeping dragon'," Professor Jones translated, seeing him look at it.

Harry nodded. Of course, 'Draco' means dragon, like the constellation…much better than knowing we have Malfoy's name on the gate—he struts around as if he owns the place enough as it is…

Something Hestia Jones had said earlier suddenly came back to him.

"Er—professor—" he said haltingly. "I was wondering—"

He paused.

"Well, spit it out, Harry. You and your father…always beating around the bush…"

"That's what I was going to ask," said Harry. "Did you know my father?"

She chuckled aloud. "I only spent seven years with him—well, ten if you were to count the three years we spent in Auror training. He and Sirius could always get a smile out of me—whether it was getting drunk at the Hog's Head and running through the entrance hall stark-naked, or pulling those pranks on old Moody when he was trying to teach us how to move stealthily…" she chuckled at the memory.

"Oh?" said Harry, trying to sound casual. "So you were…close?"

"Quite a bit, yeah…but it was your mother I was closest to. Lived in the same dorm with her for seven years. She would always come ranting to me about your father—it was always Potter this and Potter that…but I knew they'd end up together. They were too sweet when they weren't arguing. And she did always admire him…in her own way…"

Harry hardly dared to let his feet touch the ground—it seemed too loud, and he didn't want to miss anything. Without even knowing it, his frostiness towards Professor Jones began to melt away.

She glanced sideways at him. "Hungry for more details?"

"Oh no, I was just curious," he said, nonchalant. He wanted to hear more, but didn't want her to think he was starved for it. He reluctantly changed the subject. "So…how did Professor Dumbledore come to pick you as our Defense teacher?"

She studied him. "Well…when I was in my seventh year, I was one of five who got the highest marks—not just in our O.W.L. or N.E.W.T. exams, but out of our entire generation. The five of us could have done anything, become anyone, by the time we graduated. One of us, actually, became second only to the Minister three years in. The other two married and became Aurors for a time. And the other became a professor here."

Harry furrowed his brow. Something that she said was niggling at his memory, but he wasn't sure why…

"I wanted desperately to be an Auror and help out with the War. It was at its worst during this time, you understand. I worked hard for three years, and then right when we were about to graduate from Auror training…your parents died. Voldemort fell, the War was over with, and I…I couldn't do it. I couldn't handle the fall-out.

"We were the best of friends at Hogwarts, you see. There was the seven of us: James, Sirius, Remus and Peter, of course, had their own secrets and adventures they went on without us…and then there was Lily, Aletha Freeman, and myself. Lily and James were always together, and Letha fancied Sirius, and Remus and I were very good friends. Peter always seemed to be left out. After your parents died, we were all devastated. As a group of friends, we broke up—Sirius went to Azkaban for killing them, or so we thought; Peter was believed to have been blown to pieces; Remus became a recluse; Letha had a child and I never saw her again…and a big part of me died with them. So I quit.

"I transferred to another part of the Ministry and worked there for a few years. I became head of my department soon after—mind you, this was before the Ministry was reorganized into just seven departments and we were all reassigned. But after a while, I started noticing how corrupt the Ministry was becoming, and a lot of the members in it. I stopped caring how hard I worked and how much my pay increased, and a few years later it didn't even matter any more," Professor Jones said, her face curiously blank.

"It was after the Umbridge fiasco that Dumbledore came to me with a job offer. 'Teach at Hogwarts for a year,' he told me, 'and you may find during the course of it that you are being made the student, not they.'" She flashed a smile at Harry. "Who can refuse the Headmaster when he comes calling?"

Harry nodded. "Who—who were the other four?"

"Excuse me?"

"The other four who graduated with you. You said one worked for the Minister, one worked for Dumbledore, and two became Aurors. Who were they?" he said.

"Ah…well, Edgar Bones was an old friend of mine. He was one of the younger brothers of Amelia Bones. Before she became Minister she was Head of the DMLE. That was the position that he held in his day, before he died."

"Edgar Bones…" Harry mused aloud. "Wasn't he murd—"

"Yes," Professor Jones said shortly. "He was murdered in the first war by Rabastan Lestrange, along with his wife and two children. With the position he held, he never stood a chance. He was a sitting target."

"With his…" Harry said, starting to feel sick.

With his wife and two children? Lestrange couldn't have just killed him in an alley with no one to see, but he had to watch the Death Eater murder his wife and kids as well?

"It was his son's birthday party, but since they were in hiding only his family could be there…" Professor Jones' voice sounded far away as she recanted the past. "Amelia couldn't make it, but his brothers Douglas and Hector were there with Doug's wife and kid. And then the Death Eaters showed up, and the none of them stood a chance. They had to watch Lestrange kill Edgar's wife and children first. It was on pure luck that Hector made it out alive, with Doug's daughter Susie. Edgar fought Lestrange to the death, and after he fell, they tried to finish off Douglas and his wife. That was when the Aurors showed up. They were able to save the wife, but it was too late to save Doug. He still remains in a coma."

Harry stared stonily ahead as they rounded the lake. He knew that Edgar Bones had died, but he didn't know how or who else had been murdered with him. And Douglas Bones…

Susan Bones' father, he realized. She was there that night…she just barely escaped with her life…and lost her mother in the process.

Was this war never going to end? Would he forever be hearing the stories of people who lost their loved ones to Voldemort and his Death Eaters? Would there ever come a time when he didn't look at a classmate and wonder if they had seen their father murdered, or their sister tortured?

It was just too much to handle. It had been too much to handle since he was eleven and learning that his parents had not died in a car crash. But each year it became worse and worse, and every time he stood up against Voldemort, he had a bigger burden to carry. He had thought a year and a half ago after he came back from the graveyard and Voldemort's rebirthing party that things couldn't possibly get any worse than that. But then he had to live through his decision to go the Department of Mysteries and the consequences that came from that. It was then that he wondered—if he had known just what he was getting into when Hagrid first told him he was a wizard…would he still have wanted it?

He thought he would have. But now…he wasn't so sure.

I nearly died in my first year. First in the Forbidden Forest…then again with Quirrell and the mirror. I nearly died trying to keep Voldemort from getting the Stone…and for what? Sure he didn't get the Stone…sure he stopped drinking unicorn blood…sure he left Hogwarts alone for two years. But really, all I did was delay the inevitable. I stopped him from getting immortal life, but…

Fat load of good that did us, anyhow, he thought bitterly. Voldemort still came back. Only now it's worse because he has his own body and a wand and he's not sitting around on his arse, biding his time and waiting for something to happen. And now that the wizarding world knows he's out there…

He's not going to be tiptoeing around anymore. He's going to strike, as soon as he can, whenever he can, there's going to be nothing standing in his way now…

But that wasn't true, he remembered. His words from only a few months ago rose into his head.

"So…so does that mean that…that one of us has got to kill the other one…in the end?"

Then Dumbledore's voice answered his own in a way that made it seem as if the weight of the world rested in that one simple word. "Yes."

It's all up to me, Harry thought now. I am the one thing standing in the way between Voldemort and what he wants. Me…no one else…and he's going to stop at nothing to get me out of the way. Whether it's by making me think someone I love is in trouble and drawing me to where he wants me, or stopping the train before we get to the one place he can't get me. He'll do anything…none of my friends are safe, not even at school…and instead of going to classes and being worried about whether we'll win the Quidditch Cup or not, I have to worry about who he's going to go after next. Who he's going to torture and kill to get closer to me.

Because in the end…it's just going to be me and him. No one else can stop him, no one else can save everyone from him. It's just me. It's all up to me…

He barely noticed they were almost to the castle by now. The numerous towers rose against the black night ominously, twinkling lights practically dancing in the windows.

They had been silent for the past five minutes, both lost in thought, when Professor Jones cleared her throat.

She regarded him for a long moment before she spoke. "Harry, may I be blunt with you?"

He looked up at her and was drawn back by the ferocity of her gaze.

"You are not alone, Harry," she said, her voice low. "No matter what you go through, no matter who you're with…you're not alone in this. You have the entire wizarding world behind you, your friends at your side every step of the way, the Order here to guard you and watch your back…and you have Dumbledore to guide you. You may think whatever you will of the situation, but don't you dare think for one second that you're alone in this."

Harry opened his mouth, then closed it. Whatever he expected her to say, it certainly wasn't this.

"This world is all of ours, you know. Voldemort is a threat to all of us. You're not the only one he's ever targeted, so don't you dare start thinking that you are."

"I'm not—" he started angrily.

"Hear me out first, Harry," she said, putting her hands on his shoulders. "Your mother was my best friend, and your father nearly so. They fought against Voldemort until the very end, and they're still fighting even now…through you! You can't fight this war alone, and just because you have the power to stop Voldemort, does not mean you have the might.

"Alone, you're next to defenseless against him. But with your friends and your teachers and Dumbledore and the Order helping you…you will win! Just know, that with all of us behind you, you can do it. But if you try to go this alone…taking the high road because guilt tells you that everyone else is going to die and it'll be your fault…you're not going to get very far, and that's a fact."

They had reached the oak doors, but she had stopped in front of them and was looking at him. "It's like what Dumbledore always says," she said. "'We are only as strong as we are united…as weak as we are divided'. Remember this, Harry Potter. You are not alone."

She opened the great front doors and walked inside. Almost dumbly, he followed her. He felt an overwhelming urge to say a million things—spill out all of his worries over the summer and thoughts from what Dumbledore had told him after the Battle.

"I must leave you here. The Sorting is about to begin, so you should be able to enter unnoticed—"

He nodded, mind still caught up in his thoughts.

"Oh—Professor?" he said, remembering just in time.

"Yes, Harry?" she asked, rose-colored cloak sweeping the floor as she turned around.

"I forgot to tell you—after everyone else got off the train, er…well, three of my classmates tried to hex me and my friends, so we…erm, took care of them first," he said, face reddening.

He saw a twinkle in her eye, though her face remained impassive. "Ahhh, yes. I remember these inter-House rivalries well. Slytherins, were they?"

"Yes. But the thing is, they were hit with a fairly strong Stunner and I think they might be there still. But their fathers are Death Eaters, so—" he hurriedly added.

Her brow quirked. "I see. And, ah…where might these gentlemen be, pray?"

"In, er…in the luggage rack."

This time, she had to struggle to keep the mischievous smirk off her face that was threatening to break free. "I will see if I can find them. Mind you, if the term had already started, you would be receiving a detention and some docked points, but as the Sorting has not yet begun, I'm afraid I have nothing to threaten you with…"

Harry felt a grin spread across his own face. "Yes, professor."

"I know your sort. You'll either make my job a lot harder…or a hell of a lot easier," she said, then called over her shoulder as she walked away, "You got off lucky, Potter."

I always do, he thought with a sheepish grin.

The thought cheered him a bit, until he remembered just one more thing. He hesitated before calling out, but felt that it was important.

"Er—Professor Jones? Who did you say were the other ones who graduated with you?"

She turned around on the front step and looked at him for a moment before she answered.

"Your parents, Harry," she replied. "They were your parents."

And with a flick of her wand, the oak doors closed behind her.