AN/ I'm basing the size of the Hogwarts' student body on the estimations worked out by David Haber at the beyond Hogwarts website, and not Rowling's estimation of 1,000 students. We just don't see that many students in the books, or in the movies. And yes, the name of the DADA teacher is a play on the name of a famous vampire slayer character, and just a little bit of poking fun at her creator. After all, if he REALLY wanted to be edgy, he would not relaunch the series with a black female playing the part, he'd do it with a straight white male from the Deep South. THAT would be challenging stereotypes in Hollywood. As it is, he's just pandering and trying to virtue signal.

Even with the new teachers for which she was responsible, even with the her extra duties as part of the Order of the Phoenix, even with the news of attacks on the wizarding community by the Dark Lord, and the Ministry finally admitting that he was back, Minerva McGonagall was more rested than she had felt in years. Hogwarts was once again becoming a school worthy of its name. She knew that Albus was having difficulty adjusting, not only to the radical changes in the school, but to his own battle plans for fighting the Dark Lord, but she for one was thrilled.

She'd sat in on the interviews and the orientation for the new teachers and was quite pleased with the new transfiguration teachers, a pretty little blonde woman from Iceland who had a real talent for making a lesson sing—sometimes literally. She loved the changes in her quarters, and in the dormitories. With the scrapping of the old bed-curtains the likelihood of a fire in the dorms had been reduced significantly, and she liked the way the common rooms had been refurbished to make both socialization and group studying easier. And she had to admit that the introduction of muggle pens and notebooks had its advantages too. Paper didn't hold the magic of spell work very well, but at the same time it was far less expensive and could be more easily stored. (She had a particular dislike of scrolls, much preferring the feeling of books.)

With a newfound sense of purpose and ease, she watched as the first years were conducted via boat to the castle—a job still carried out by Hagrid. There were fewer this year than in years before, but that was to be expected with so many families going into hiding. The mysterious witch who'd aided Tonks had appeared several more times, but there was only one of her, and the Dark Lord had many targets, even if he did have a quickly dwindling circle of death eaters. It would seem that this witch much preferred killing death eaters than sending them to Azkaban—something that both Amelia Bones and Kingsley Shacklebolt wished to discuss with her, but were in no big hurry. As for the death eaters, they'd learned to fear the Russian word: Boyevoy, which meant, 'fight'.

As the first-years filed into the great hall, their faces looking nervous, she counted only thirty new students instead of the usual fifty or so. Even the ranks of the regular students had thinned out, and many faces were missing, most notably, that of young Draco Malfoy. Whatever Daire had arranged there, had crippled Voldemort's cash flow and the death eaters had taken to common thievery to meet their fiscal needs.

Professor Olafsdottir took the names of the children pronouncing them quite well with only a hint of a Nordic accent. She was quite impressed with the pretty young blonde's credentials. One by one, they separated nearly evenly into the four houses. It always surprised her that the hat was able to in one way or another find something to justify such an even distribution, and she briefly wondered if being under its influence, even briefly, caused those aspects of the student's personality to suddenly blossom. It was something to think about.

When the sorting was over, Albus stood and began his beginning of the year speech. "Welcome to our returning students and our new first-years, as well as one or two transfer students. In many ways, this year is a new school for all of our students, as you have surely noticed the recent changes to faculty, staff, schedules, and even the castle itself. As we move forward, our futures uncertain outside the walls of this school, we are also moving forward with our lives here at Hogwarts. Many of you will note a change in the regular school schedule and the classes both offered as electives as well as required for graduation. These are all based on the standards and practices implemented by the Board of Governors in order to see that each and every one of you graduate Hogwarts with the best possible education we can provide."

"We have several new faces at the faculty table this evening. Let me begin by introducing them to you. I'm sure you will come to know them much better as the year goes on. First, our new lower form potions master and biology teacher is ElizaThornton, recently of the Innisfree School of Witchcraft and Wizardry in Ireland. The upper form and N.E.W.T. classes will be taught by Professor Horace Slughorn who has graciously agreed to come out of retirement." Both instructors stood and nodded their heads. Minerva got the impression that Slughorn might be actually a bit infatuated with the attractive younger woman. "Professor Snape has been promoted to head of the Department of Alchemy.

"In the lower form of transfigurations as well as grammar and literature is Professor Ingrid Olafsdottir. Although she is from Iceland, she comes here from our sister school to the North, Durmstrang. Teaching the upper form will be Professor Christopher Dumas who comes to us all the way from New Zealand." Again, the two instructors stood and smiled. Olafsdottir was a small woman with ice blond hair, and blue eyes, and Dumas was somewhat dark-skinned with a head of tight curly hair and a broad flat nose.

"This year we're pleased to welcome to the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, the renown monster hunter, Biff Winters. He will be covering all seven years in this subject, and we look forward to learning a great deal from him in these troubled times." Minerva knew that Winters was a shoe-horn candidate that Albus had put his foot down about. He stood and smiled slightly. He was a somewhat young man, probably in his late twenties, with dishwater blond hair, grey eyes, and a very fit and tone form. Rumor had it that he kept a silver dagger and a wooden stake on his person at all times.

And so the introductions went as all the new staff was made to feel as welcome as they could in this environment. Minerva sat back as it was announced that she would maintain her position as Deputy Headmistress, and as Head of House for Gryffindor. Slughorn was to be head of Slytherin, and Winters was taking over as head of house for Hufflepuff. When Albus was finished, he opened the feast, and the students began to talk animatedly among each other and devour the food that appeared on the table.

"So, what do you think, Minerva?" Fillius leaned over and asked her.

"About?" she said as she scanned her new students. Finding Weasley was quite easy. She just looked for the shock of red hair. From there, it wasn't hard to locate Potter, Longbottom, and Granger. They were sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table talking. Well Granger, Longbottom, and Potter were talking. Weasley was busy shoveling food into his mouth.

"How all of this is going to play out?"

"Actually, I'm rather pleased with it, Fillius. I like the improvements in the castle, I like the extra staff, and I like the fact that we're finally looking at how we teach. It's been a long time coming."

"I would have thought you'd resist this kind of change?"

"Not at all," she said. "Hogwarts is first and foremost a school, and we need to make sure we don't forget that."

"I agree," Fillius said quietly.

Harry was of two minds about the changes he'd seen at Hogwarts since his last trip here in July. He missed some of the old aspects of the school, but at the same time, he liked the fact that grey was no longer the dominant color of his life. Part of that he recognized as his budding appreciation for all things fae.

After the feast there had been time to catch up with his friends, and he caught himself studying Hermione very closely, the way her nose sloped up just slightly, the narrowness of her face, the beauty of her rich brown eyes, all combining to give her an elegant, and sophisticated appearance. He loved the way her small mouth formed a perfect bow, and some small part of his mind wondered what it would be like to kiss those lips. WOAH! Where did that come from? He shook his head out of the reverie he'd found himself in and realized that maybe his dreams of late had been telling him something.

Suddenly, the new improved Gryffindor common room became too small, too claustrophobic. He needed to clear his head, to think some things through. Dropping off his trunk in the room he shared with Ron and Neville, he slipped out of the dorm and up to the parapet of the Astronomy Tower.

Here, with the whole of the Milky Way spread out above him, and the reflection of the stars glittering like diamonds on the black velvet of the lake below, he felt his mind begin to settle again. Almost negligently, he cast a ball of soft blue fae-light on the area, and leaned out to watch the ripple of the waves on the lake, his mind relaxing further, draining away the tensions of the day, the fatigue from the long train ride, and the worries the coming war kept casting at his mind. With a little concentration, he realized that he could start to discern the difference between the reflected star light, and the lights of the merfolk village beneath the waves. He wondered how they made such light underwater; magic no doubt.

"You have the look of a man having deep thoughts," the voice of Professor Dumbledore brought him from his near-meditative state of mind.

Harry turned and smiled at the old warlock and said, "Not quite sir. I think I was almost in a trance state."

"I've never known you to be quite that contemplative, Harry."

"I've got a lot on my mind. It's quiet up here and I could feel my thoughts settle a bit."

"Would you like to discuss it?" It was an offer that Harry hadn't considered in the past.

"Have you ever suddenly realized that your feelings for a friend might go deeper than you thought? That you might have somehow crossed over from seeing them as a friend, to something else?"

The look on Dumbledore's face was one of surprise, and a bitter-sweet smile flowed across his face. "Once," he said. "It didn't end well."

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I didn't mean to bring up bad memories, sir."

Dumbledore's chuckle was sardonic, and just a bit self-deprecating. "You didn't. Your question just caught me off guard."

"Sorry, sir."

"Don't be. Sometimes I forget how much you've grown from the little boy who first came here five years ago. You're becoming a young man, with all that entails."

Harry nodded and asked, "What can I do for you, sir?"

With a nod, Dumbledore said, "I've been doing some research, Harry. And I believe I've discovered something about our foe."

"Oh?"

"Would you care to join me in my office? I have something to share with you."

Harry nodded and followed the old man down the tower, and into his office on the third floor. There he found a large shallow silver bowl floating above a table. Next to it was a glowing glass cabinet full of small vials, each one marked in a delicate, almost feminine script. "You of course remember the pensieve?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied with a nod.

Dumbledore took down a vial, and poured it into the bowl. "Of all the memories I've collected, this one is the most vexing." He smiled, "Would you care to take a look?"

Shrugging slightly, Harry moved toward the bowl. Glancing over to Dumbledore, who nodded in affirmation, he plunged his face into its silvery surface. And the memory began to form around him.

"A young Tom Riddle, near Harry, was talking with someone else in the room. Asking about old and dark magics by which a wizard could preserve his soul. But, like a poorly recorded video, the images kept twisting in and out, reshaping themselves. One moment the conversation made sense. Riddled asked about something that Harry could not quite ascertain, and then it would fade into shadow, and whoever had recorded the memory was acting in anger, demanding that Riddle get out. Then, it abruptly ended.

Harry pulled his face from the liquid and looked at the Professor. "I don't understand, Sir.

"This memory has been altered, by the person who gave it to me," the professor replied. "To understand what Tom has done, we need the unaltered one."

"I still don't understand. Who is it from?"

"Professor Slughorn," Dumbledore told him.

"Why would he change the memory?" Harry asked. "How would he change the memory?"

Dumbledore smiled and said, "The human mind is a powerful thing. It's capable of convincing itself, at least in the waking hours, of nearly anything. As for why? Most likely shame or embarrassment."

"What do you want me to do?" Harry asked.

"Professor Slughorn collects people Harry. He cultivates friendships and relationships with famous and powerful people. And through those, he makes his life easier, manipulates events from behind the scene. Oh not for power so to speak, but for his own comfort. And he always gives as much as he gets, mainly by being a gateway for one person to meet another. I suspect that the only reason he has come to Hogwarts is the opportunity to collect what will be his crown jewel.
"Who?"

"You, Harry," Dumbledore replied. "You, the chosen one, would be his crowning achievement."

"What do you want me to do?"

"To get close to him, get the original unaltered memory. Without it, we can go no further in our war against Voldemort."

Harry nodded and recognized it to be a sound plan. Nodding he said, "Should I let him?"

"Let him what?"

"Let him collect me."

"If necessary," Dumbledore replied.

Harry nodded. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. But he also knew that Dumbledore didn't have an inkling about how much he'd changed over the summer. He didn't like being used as a potential weapon or as bait. "I see."

"You don't approve?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry couldn't help but think that he was a little late asking him for his approval. "I'm unsure, sir. Are you sure that this memory is absolutely necessary?"

"It is," Dumbledore said. "I fear that Tom Riddle has found a way to keep coming back from the dead. The only way we can be sure is get that memory."

Harry nodded. He had the distinct feeling that Dumbledore wasn't telling him everything, but he was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt, of wanting to confirm his fears. It was a caution that Harry could appreciate. "Okay. I'll try sir."

"Good boy," Dumbledore replied putting a fatherly hand on his shoulder.

"If you will excuse me," I think I'll turn in. First day of classes are tomorrow and I'm actually looking forward to my Introduction to Living in the Wizarding World class."

"Go ahead," the headmaster said.

Harry returned to the dorm where Hermione was waiting on him in the common room. "Ron was wondering where you were."

Harry smiled and asked, "But you're the one who waited up in the common room?"

"Well, they wouldn't let me wait in your room," she said. Then as if realizing what she'd said, she looked down and blushed, quickly adding, "I mean..."

"It's okay. I was out clearing my head and then Professor Dumbledore wanted to speak to me."

"I thought it might be something like that," she said. "Look, Harry..., about this thing that has happened to you."

"Yes?" Harry asked sitting on the sofa next to her.

She took his hand and said, "I just want you to know that I don't think it changes anything between us, I mean our friendship. I'm still here for you."

Harry patted her hand, not sure how to tell her how much that meant to him. "Thank you. I think I needed to hear that."

"I mean it Harry. I won't turn my back on you just because of what you've become."

"Has someone suggested that you should?" Harry asked.

She shook her head and said, "No. It's just some people don't know how to take it. How to take you. You were The-Boy-Who-Lived. Now the Daily Prophet is calling you The Chosen One. The Quibbler calls you the Fae Lord." She smiled and added, "To me, you're just my best friend, Harry."

"Thank you, Hermione. And I guess I am all those things. None of them I have any control over. Well, okay, I could have rejected my birthright, I guess. But why should I?"

"You shouldn't Harry!" she said rather emphatically.

"I'm glad you agree with me. It's been an adjustment. And to be honest, I've worked my arse off this summer. Coming back to school actually feels like a break."

She laughed and said, "You'll do fine."

He nodded. "I know. It's just I've gotten used to learning with Hunter's teaching style, and now I've got to go back to the Hogwarts style."

"I get the feeling that the Hogwarts style is going to change."

"I know, but it's still not like having the knowledge imparted directly into my mind and then the use of it drilled into me until every part of me, body, mind, and soul are exhausted."

"What's he like?" Hermione asked changing the subject slightly.

"Who?"

"Your cousin," she said.

"Elegant, sophisticated, and down to earth all at the same time. He's a ball of contradictions. He doesn't act like the nobles we see on television, at least when we're alone. He's teaching me the manners I need to function like that, but for the most part, he's just Hunter." He frowned and added, "Or I should say, xe's Hunter."

"Xe?"

"Long story. Let's just say that my cousin is more than one thing at a time, and that took me a while to get used to." He paused remembering their conversation from several weeks ago. "You told me that you wanted to wait to talk to Luna about her background without Ron and Ginny."

"Yeah," she said. "I don't think the Weaselys, at least not Ron and Ginny are taking what has happened to you very well. They seem to dislike the fae as much as they do the Malfoys."

"The Malfoys tried to stop the Massacre of the Bells, or so my cousin tells me. Could that be it?"

"I don't know. Fred and George are likely to use it to take the Mickey out of you when you need it, but I don't think they're likely to give you grief over it." She paused a moment, and then added, "And there's something else."

"What?"

"Well, I was staying at the Burrow just before we came back to school. I noticed something in Mrs. Weasley's kitchen. Something I wasn't sure about."

"What?" he asked.

"She had two boxes in the back of the cupboard. I was looking for a pot to help with dinner and saw it. One had your name on it, and one had Ginny's. I took a peek inside." She blushed at that. "There were most of the ingredients for love potions in them. They just needed something intimate from each of you."

Harry sat back and gazed long and hard at Hermione. "What are you saying?"

"Nothing. I'm just telling you what I saw. I'll leave any interpretation of it up to you."

"That's something to think about," Harry said.

"Harry, just be careful."

"I will," he told her standing and yawning. "Now if you'll excuse me. I think I'm going to bed."

She smiled and stood too. "I think I'll head to my own bed too."

As they parted, and headed toward different doors, Harry noticed how sweetly she was smiling and wondered again what it would be like to kiss her.