Harry Potter and the Zodiac Charms

by PulsarDragon

A quiet night after the Chamber of Secrets changes Harry's and Ginny's relationship, mysterious new characters arrive, and a shadowy force strives to bring chaos to the world. starts in canon but will change to an AU story, Ron bashing until a certain point, Harry/Ginny, Neville/Luna, Ron/Hermione, Remus/Tonks, Sirius/Mary

35. Journey to the Past

Disclaimer: As always, I only own and control my original content. J.K. Rowling owns everything else related to Harry Potter.

Author's Note: My deepest, deepest apologies for the long delay for this update. Between starting grad school last fall and my editor working two jobs, the process was slower than either of us liked. That said, things should be returning to a normal update pace as we have a better handle of our schedules now.

Chapter 35: Journey to the Past

The night following Harry's hearing and the arrival of their Hogwarts letters via professor Babbling, Mrs. Weasley made her nightly trek through Grimmauld place. Ever the doting mother, she could hardly resist checking in on all of her children- even if they weren't Weasleys by birth. Creeping up the first flight of stairs, she stopped on the second floor. Three doors here hid her sleeping offspring. Two stood silent. Ginny, though not always the most well behaved, was usually responsible enough to go to sleep on time. While Ron may occasionally stay up later on occasion, typically the growing teen had had enough by then as well. The Weasley matriarch paused at the third door with a small smile. The twin's whispers issued forth, as per usual, falling silent as they caught her creaking footsteps. After eavesdropping for a few moments, however, she stepped back toward the stairs. Like clockwork, the whispers picked up behind her again.

The children only used one bedroom on the third floor. Hermione might not be a Weasley, but to Molly she was as good as any redhead. Even without the extra prompting, she would have cared for the intelligent and responsible girl; she was a great example for Ron and Ginny. As expected, her door lay still and silent. Mrs. Weasley pressed her ear to the ancient wood, listening to the steady breathing of her "second daughter."

The fourth floor, her final stop. Mrs. Weasley's heartstrings ached at the uneven rustling from Harry's room. Even after his success the day before, the boy still fidgeted in his sleep. This was just as routine as the behavior of the others, however. The sweet boy had never had a still night not brought on by injury or Dreamless Sleep, even if he awoke well rested in the morning. Molly sighed and stepped away from that door; there was nothing she could hope to do to assist him. Instead, she stepped across the hall. The master bedroom lay here, and the master of the house within. Though she would never admit it, she cared for Sirius, at least enough to worry about his health and safety. Within, a low grumbling interrupted by periods of pacing sounded. He must be plotting another mission, then.

"Molly," a warm voice called from further down the hall. Mrs. Weasley looked up to meet her husband's tired gaze. "All's well, love. Come to bed."

Contrary to Mrs. Weasley's observations and Mr. Weasley's quiet assurances, all was not well among the children of Grimmauld Place. On the third floor, Hermione's steady breathing caught, and she forced it quiet once again. Try as she might, she hadn't been able to shut down the racing thoughts that plagued her with speculations and possibilities of what she might see and learn with Professor Babbling at the dig the next day. Resigned to the fact true sleep was going to elude her that night, she left the four poster bed in the room untouched and had settled herself on top of a cluster of pillows on the floor while she meditated.

While her other friends might not have been focusing on their enhanced talents over the summer, Hermione hadn't been able to stop herself from delving further into the subject. When she asked Professor Kemper, on one of his very short stops at Grimmauld Place, about what she could do on her own while he was busy with Order business, he had suggested she look up meditation and memory techniques to further focus and strengthen her mind. After diligent research on the matter, Hermione had come across a technique known as the method of Loci. The method, or so she had read, required a keen spatial awareness and an ability to recall locations and where objects or people might be in relation to those locations.

With her ability however, Hermione had been able to take the method one step beyond when constructing her "mind palace," as some people who employed the method called it. Using her love of the Hogwarts library as a template, she had arranged all the knowledge in her memory within the bindings of her beloved books. She merely needed to remember what section she had stored a specific memory in to recall it- but that just wasn't enough for Hermione. She wanted instantaneous recall of everything she knew or observed, to know something within the blink of an eye. Besides meditating to keep her mind calm and help with organizing her brain, she started a little exercise or game.

A quiet knock on her door signaled the wakefulness of another unusual suspect. Hermione cracked her eyes open, attempting to maintain her quiet mind while functioning, and gradually stood. She tiptoed to the door and ushered a floating Ginny into the room.

Hermione raised one eyebrow. "Hiding your footsteps?" she whispered.

Ginny nodded, waiting to respond until after the door had closed once more. "Mum might be easy to fool, but she still has the ears of a fox. I wouldn't put it past her to climb out of bed to investigate someone sneaking about."

Hermione grinned, noticing the slight changes in her friend's expression that meant she was more excited about sneaking about than she let on. Ginny, however, had turned away in that moment, turning to face the wall across from Hermione's bed. She cast a dim Lumos, revealing the project that the two had been working on for the last week or so.

After asking permission from Sirius and Mary to do so, the two girls had taken one wall of her room and painted it completely white. Once she had finished that, Hermione had charmed the wall to project entire pages of the popular Muggle book Where's Wally? She then devised a challenge for herself to increase her recall speed by looking for a specific object or person in the projected page before she turned around. Ginny would scramble the image, and then she would then attempt to locate her selected target, or the target her friend had selected.

Playing Where's Wally? in the dark proved to be significantly more of a challenge than in the daylight, yet neither girl was willing to light their wands and risk the wrath of adults passing by on the stairs. It was, however, exactly the sort of challenge that Hermione needed at that moment, and when Ginny departed a couple of hours later, her brain had finally settled into stillness. She returned to the cluster of pillows with a sigh, losing herself once more in meditation. It might not be equivalent to sleep, but at the very least her body could rest.

Hermione barely registered the passing of the hours. Dawn came, the first light filtering in through her window, and still she did not stir. Quiet breathing was the only sound in her room, eyes closed to avoid visual stimuli. In her mind's eye, she was walking along a section of her library when a knock came at her bedroom door, stirring her out of her meditation.

"Hermione, Professor Babbling is downstairs when you are ready," Mrs. Weasley called in a soft voice. Hermione could distinctly hear the Weasley matriarch move away from the door, stepping on a slightly squeaky floorboard that was two meters away on the left hand side. She smirked, remembering how Ginny had overcome that particular obstacle.

With a slight groan as she got off her pile of cushions and stretched, Hermione quickly got ready for the day after placing the pillows back in their original locations. The excitement she had felt yesterday had bubbled up to the surface, bringing a gleam to her eyes as she rapidly freshened up and got dressed, pulling her hair back into a ponytail as best she could. Racing downstairs, being careful to avoid any of the charmed floorboards the twins had made to alert them to any movement, she entered the kitchen to find the auburn haired witch sipping on a coffee.

"Good morning, Hermione," the Runes professor greeted brightly. "Nice to see you all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Excited?"

"Very, Professor," Hermione answered, a big grin plastered on her face. Mrs. Weasley placed a small tray with four pieces of toast and an omelet in front of Hermione before she bustled off with Kreacher to fix up another pot of coffee and breakfast for the others who would be stirring soon.

"I'll be taking you along by Side-Along Apparation," Babbling explained, taking a sip of her coffee. "We can't Apparate directly into the circle itself -ancient rune wards stop transport within it- so my team has set up a small safe spot to come and go. Bit of a walk, but we won't be disturbed by any Muggle tourists there to stare at the monoliths."

"What exactly are we going to be doing there?" Hermione asked.

"I'll explain more once we are there," Professor Babbling said, offering a half-smile in a good-natured, conspiratorial way. Hermione nodded, nibbling at the toast while Babbling finished her coffee.

"Bathsheda, will you be joining us for dinner tonight?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"I'm not sure yet, Molly," Professor Babbling answered, checking a bronze wrist watch as she finished her coffee and stood up. It had odd runes on it, even for a wizarding watch. "All depends on how the day goes, I think. We should be off, Hermione. Thank you for the coffee, Molly, and I'll be sure Miss Granger here comes back in one piece."

"Have a good time, Hermione dear," Mrs. Weasley said, giving her a small hug.

"I will," Hermione replied, returning the hug before grabbing the remains of her small bundle of toast and following Professor Babbling out of the kitchen. Heading down the corridor to the foyer, Professor Babbling opened the door to find a paunchy wizard stumbling inside with a sack slung over his shoulder.

"Molly is awake already, Mundungus," she said, stepping aside to allow the pilferer entrance. "Best she not sees what you've got there."

"Righto, Batty," Mundungus said, his eyes shifting around for any sign the Weasley matriarch was coming. Hermione noticed the slight tightening of the corners of the professor's smile at the nickname Mundungus had used, and she couldn't help but notice the telltale signs that the Order's resident underworld contact had been in a scrape of some sort.

"'Mione, always a pleasure," the thief said, scooting past her and disappearing into the drawing room, leaving a smell of old whiskey and stale pipe smoke behind him.

"I really dislike that nickname," Babbling said once they stepped out into the cool August morning. "Bullies at school used to call me that, called me Babbling Batty. I always preferred being called the know-it-all."

"I can empathize with that," Hermione said, wincing at how quickly memories of her own childhood rose to the surface. With effort, she tore those memories from their book in her mental library and locked them behind a heavy metal door in the darkest corner. "The Vault," as she called it, held her deepest, darkest secrets, and she used what she knew of Occlumency to secure them in there.

"I'm sure," Babbling said, taking Hermione's arm in a gentle grip and bringing her back to reality. Leaning down, she added, almost as an afterthought, "Never let them get you down because you know more, Hermione. Always strive to learn as much as you can."

With that said, and a shared smile, Babbling Apparated, dragging Hermione along with her. It was her first time Apparating, and she quickly understood why some wizards and witches preferred other methods of travel. Apparating was rather sickening, and upon reappearing, she needed to take some steadying breaths. She had to wonder if the way the Ericson sisters and Professor Kemper came and went was any worse than that.

"You took that quite well; first timer, hmm?" Babbling asked. Hermione nodded in response, forcing the nausea back down.

"You'll get used to it after a while," Babbling assured her, gently patting Hermione on her shoulder. "Good thing we have such a crisp morning to banish those ill effects. Plus, you can't really beat the scenery. Such peace and tranquility… but with an air of mystery."

Hermione took in the surroundings, and Professor Babbling did have a point. The fields around the site were really peaceful and idyllic, a bank of fog clinging to the ground stubbornly even as the morning sun rose. Dew clung to the grass underfoot, sparkling as it caught those first rays of sunlight. There were hardly any trees in the immediate area, all of them cleared away by those that had built the circle of stones off in the distance.

"Come along," Professor Babbling said. "Plenty to do and see."

"So what exactly is the nature of your research, Professor?" Hermione asked again as they began walking through the fog towards the monoliths.

"Ah yes, I owe you an explanation," Babbling said, smiling. "First, a question or two for you, Hermione. What is magic and where does it come from?"

"Magic is the manipulation of energy to achieve the desired effect," Hermione stated quickly. "Most magic is expressed usually through words, but thoughts can express it just as easily."

"A very clear definition of magic," Professor Babbling laughed. "What about my second question? Did Professor Binns ever mention where magic came from? How about your arithmancy professor? Flitwick, in any of his charms classes?"

"He…" Hermione trailed off, searching her mind for the answer. Now that she thought about it, Professor Binns had never mentioned where magic came from… and none of her other professors had… or any of the books she had read…

"They didn't, did they?" Professor Babbling asked rhetorically, earning a glum nod from the bushy haired witch. Not knowing was acceptable. Knowing that she didn't know something… that made it much, much worse. "Not to worry Hermione, they couldn't have been able to tell you. No one can. That is magic's biggest mystery. We wizards and witches have absolutely no idea where it came from. We simply accepted it as is and carried on our merry way. I couldn't do that though; it's that insatiable desire to know how everything works."

The sun rose higher in the sky, evaporating the fog as the pair hiked their way to the large ditch and earth walls that surrounded the monoliths. Hermione gave a shudder as they passed through some sort of barrier that had been erected by Babbling's team. She could see tents pitched among the stones, with people in robes already moving about their morning routine.

"That's what all of this is about," Babbling continued, raising her hand in greeting to her team. Hermione saw two wizards raise their hands in return. "My research is an attempt to uncover the very origins of magic in our world. We've unearthed some very strange ruins in the past few months, all of them the same. Same design, same construction, even similar hidden entrances. It should be impossible, really, considering we found one such ruin in China, one in Egypt, and one at Skelling Michael off the coast of Ireland. I'm optimistic that one exists somewhere here as well."

"Why do you think that, professor?" Hermione asked, though she had supplemented several ideas of her own already. Just from the few brief moments she'd had to glance around, she could tell Stonehenge had its own pervading energy. She catalogued it alongside similar sensations in her Library- the wards around Grimmauld Place, for example, or the lasting magic that held the Burrow upright. This, however, felt far, far older than either.

"Stonehenge is constantly associated with all manner of weird things by the Muggles, but wizardly scholars know it used to be a focal point for the Old Religion," Babbling answered. "A site of power if you will pardon me the expression."

"The Old Religion?" Hermione asked, her interest growing. She had never heard of the Old Religion- in any of her books or in History of Magic.

"I'll have to explain later," Babbling said, apologizing. Her bright-eyed companion held back from grinding her teeth in frustration. The professor had to know how tempting it was to simply delve into a new subject. "Here comes my number two, Robert Blakely. He was my mentor after I finished schooling and then decided to join my team after we discovered the Crystal of Neahtid."

An older wizard was huffing and puffing up to the pair as they reached the southern edge of the ring of stones. He was overweight, with a droopy mustache and wispy hair. A monocle quaked over one of his watery green eyes, as though the slightest nudge would knock it free. Tobacco stains on his fingers. Inexpert mending edged his robes. The creases of his hands were lined with dark stains, as though tattooed there by the earth itself. Every detail spoke of a man who liked to do all his own work himself, who indulged in bad habits a little too often, and who had a bit of an overexcited disposition. Hermione mentally congratulated herself on those observations, though she kept an eye out for more. One day, she thought, she might rival Doyle's famous detective.

"Robert, may I introduce you to a brilliant student of mine and my soon to be teaching assistant, Hermione Granger," Babbling said, gesturing at Hermione.

"Always glad to see a new young mind wanting to join our noble mission," Blakely said, shaking Hermione's hand with a surprisingly firm grip. She noted his voice sounded strained though, so either he was stressed -quite possible, if something had excited him- or too much smoking had left his lung capacity at a minimum. "Bathsheda, Wells and her crew are here."

Hermione looked at her professor and noticed her easy going demeanor had changed abruptly. She seemed on the edge of nervous all of a sudden, and the tensing of her back was clear to Hermione's searching eye. Whoever this Wells was, they were someone to be on guard around.

"Alright, I wasn't expecting the DoM to be here so early, but we'll make it work," Babbling muttered. "I'll go talk to her. Hermione, you have free reign to walk around and observe our little operation here. Help where you can, and keep a sharp eye out for anything of interest. I'm sure your fresh eyes will be of use. If you do see anything, let Blakely or one of my other team members know. Agreed?"

"Alright," Hermione answered brightly, though silently she still pondered over this other woman.

"I'll see you after I'm done," Babbling assured her, giving Hermione a pat on her shoulder before leaving with Blakely. Blakely hadn't lost that anxious feeling around him, but he gave Hermione a welcoming smile before departing. She stood there for a moment before starting to walk around, admiring the stone monoliths.

As she walked, the young Gryffindor contemplated the conversation between Professor Babbling and her second in command. 'DoM' definitely stood for Department of Mysteries, even Harry could have figured that one out, though Ron might have needed another hint. Someone studying the origins of magic would certainly be in contact with that department of the Ministry of Magic. On that note, however, wouldn't their assistance be welcome? Why would Blakely appear so bothered by their presence? She envisioned other scenarios where the authorities would be unwelcome, but unfortunately every example she came up with could be clearly marked with the heading "Illegal." For now, at least, she would trust that no Hogwarts professor would drag her into something even remotely shady in nature. So then, why?

Shaking her bushy curls, and subsequently wishing she'd thought to contain them in some way, Hermione set these questions aside for later. Instead, she refocused on the monument itself. She'd never been to Stonehenge before, but it lived up its tales. The tall stones ringing the soft earth within even felt timeless, almost pulsing with ancient life. They seemed to call out to something inside her, much like her wand had done during her first visit to Ollivander's. This magic felt different, however. Where her wand had been attuned to her in particular, she had a feeling that any witch or wizard entering these grounds would feel the same tug deep within them.

The site itself offered little to do, however, so Hermione turned her attention to the archeologists. The camp was getting busier and busier as more of Babbling's team started on whatever patch of the ruins they had been studying the previous day. Hermione wanted to jump in immediately to help the closest team members, a pair of witches, but she wasn't sure how she could be of help. If she admitted it to herself, she hardly knew anything about hands-on archeology. Well, she told herself, only one way to find out.

"Good morning! Anything I can do to help?" she asked the pair of witches.

One of them looked up and gave a heavy sigh. The other scoffed and went back to her task of uncovering something she had found in the dirt.

"No, we don't need any help," the witch who sighed stated clearly. "I don't know why Bathsheda keeps bringing in more interns. You lot always seem to just get in the way. Go on, go find something else to do."

"Oh… alright then," Hermione mumbled, feeling slightly dejected. It was the same story with each person she asked, even the one who was opening crates of supplies. Apparently, the last interns Professor Babbling had had left a not-so-great impression on her actual team members. Saddened, and more than a little frustrated, by the idea that she really do much to help until Professor Babbling was out of her meeting, Hermione continued her wandering around the ruins. At the very least, she could make observations, map the area, create detailed understandings of each stone, maybe even riddle out their dimensions. Perhaps there was some detail that she could pick up, that would stick out in her mind, that perhaps the others had missed. By no fault of their own, of course, but simply because they didn't have her particular gifts.

The rising sun glanced into her eyes, forcing Hermione to pause in her mental note taking as she was temporarily blinded. Lifting her hand to protect her eyes, she almost absently noted its position relative to the stones and to herself, aligning her mental map along this solar compass. She was just about to move on around the circle once more when something clicked in her thoughts. As her mental image of the Henge as seen from above lined up with the rising sun, she noted that it was rising close to a stone that stood off by itself to the northeast. If it was close to the summer solstice, it would likely be rising right in line with it. Curiosity got the better of her, and she started walking towards the isolated stone. One wizard seemed to working around it, but he didn't pay her any mind as she examined the ancient material. Nothing appeared different than any of the others in the ruins, but there had to be some reason it was isolated like this from the rest of the monoliths.

"Excuse me, but what is this?" Hermione asked the wizard.

He looked up from whatever it was he was examining, his glasses sliding down a reddened nose. He wasn't much older than her, maybe a year or two out of Hogwarts. He had a pock-marked face from a bad case of dragon pox, if she had to guess, but there was intelligence behind those brown eyes evidenced by the intensity of his gaze and their slight narrowing as he took her in.

"It's called the Heel Stone or Sun-Stone," the wizard said. "Apparently, it was used to keep track of when the solstice was nearing. Nothing really all that odd, plenty of ancient cultures set up stones for observing the equinoxes and the solstices." He appraised her for another moment. "You must be one of Babbling's new interns."

"I am," Hermione said, taking the hand he offered. "Hermione Granger."

"Daniel Fawley," he said. "Granger… you aren't that girl who was always hanging around the Weasleys, were you?"

"Actually, I am. I'm friends with Harry Potter and Ron Weasley," Hermione answered, nodding.

"I thought so, I was in Percy's year at Hogwarts," Daniel explained. "Ravenclaw, so we probably never interacted, but my younger cousin was always going on about this Gryffindor witch who kept showing her up in classes that hung out with the youngest Weasleys."

"Who's your cousin?" Hermione asked, curiosity driving this question to the front of her, rather long, mental list.

"Lisa Turpin," Daniel explained. "Mum's side of the family." He glanced down as he spoke, gaining an apologetic look. "I have to apologize here, but I really do need to get back to work. Found some interesting signs in this section yesterday and I need to get back to uncovering them."

"That's fine," she relented. "Maybe I could help?" She gave Daniel a hopeful look, one that had been tempered by too many people saying no. That was plain for the older boy to see, at least. He gave a small nod and handed the young witch a small brush and magnifying glass from a kit lying in the dirt next to him.

"Start with the Heel Stone itself," he said. "There will probably be some runes depicting the sun on it. Those are expected, but every little bit helps. Remember, we're looking for traces of ancient magic. It may not be what you're used to seeing, but it should differ from muggle findings."

Hermione sighed with relief. "Thank you. No one else would even give me the time of day."

"The last group of interns we had broke some valuable artifacts we recovered, by accident of course, but it made the rest of the team wary," Daniel replied. "So, don't take it personally from anyone. Prove your worth and they'll come around."

Hermione nodded. The young archeologist turned back to his own work, leaving her standing there with her tools. She glanced at them. What might have seemed relatively mundane a task, she knew, had to be executed with care and delicacy. Calling to mind every fact she had stored away that might come in handy, she started gently brushing off dust and dirt off the Heel Stone, one tiny flick at a time. If she went too fast, she reminded herself, she was liable to accidentally stir up more dust or dirt or even to damage any potential runes. Settling into the grass, she called upon her meditation practice to sit still and quiet while working away for what felt close to an hour, uncovering just one part of the stone.

As the sun gradually rose, Hermione found herself squinting in the oncoming light of the sun, so close was she to facing it head-on. Leaning closer to the stone initially had only been an attempt to avoid blinding herself, but once there, she couldn't help but trace out the different cracks and lines in the ancient surface. Each one seemed to pop out in her mind- she could almost mentally clear away the stone surrounding them until only the lines remained. Her eyes narrowed as she noticed something strange at the edge of the cleared area.

"I'll be right back, Miss Granger," Daniel called, getting up from his spot. "Need to go collect a few more tools from the quartermaster. Shouldn't take more than a minute."

"Alright," Hermione said, not really looking up or acknowledging him as he walked back towards the tents. She was focused on the stone now, her borrowed brush sweeping away at the suspicious locale. The edges of a rune became visible, but not one she had ever seen Professor Babbling show in class. Excited, but trying to keep it tampered down, she moved down to another possible spot and uncovered another similar rune. She glanced around. Daniel wasn't back yet. She contemplated calling out to one of the other team members, but such egregious attention-getting behavior would be frowned upon, if not downright ignored, by those who had dismissed her before.

Insatiable now, and without an easy outlet for her longing to uncover this secret, Hermione pulled out her wand. However, she hesitated in using it. Would she be permitted even such a simple spell as the one intended? Was magic even advisable given the delicacy of the situation? Glancing around once more, she did notice that many of the team members carried wands- Daniel had had his behind one ear. A third examination showed the witch who had snubbed her earlier casting a very gentle Aquamenti to rinse earth off a stone. That, at least, was allowed. Another concern ascended to the forefront, however, and that was simply the matter of age. Harry had just been through trouble with the Ministry for using magic outside of school, and while Grimmauld Place was shielded from observation from the Ministry, she wasn't sure this site was similarly shielded.

Turning back to the stone, Hermione allowed herself one undignified huff of frustration. The unknown rune teased at her from the edge of her tediously cleared region. She simply had to know what the rest of the sentence looked like. Fine, then. If the Ministry had a problem with her use of magic here, she would simply defend herself by reminding them she was in the presence of not only a Hogwarts professor, but also a member of the Department of Mysteries. Surely no one trusted with the darkest secrets of the wizarding world would be considered invalid supervision.

"Pulverem," she whispered.

The dust on the stone vanished, revealing in its place a circle of engraved runes. It was the most complex runic structure she had ever seen. Multiple concentric circles of runes lay centered across the Heel stone, spiraling down to a single rune engraved in the exact center of the rings. The language they expressed was entirely foreign to Hermione, though perhaps not due to separation of language over distance but more so over time.This carving certainly looked far older than any Elder Futhark runes. That was impossible though, her extensive catalogue of studied runic history seemed to protest. Elder Futhark was one of the oldest recorded writing systems in Europe. There couldn't have been anything older.

She reached out a hand to trace the central rune and immediately pulled it back as the rune flashed with a bright silvery light. The emanating glow spread across the runes, the whole design illuminating with the same silvery brightness. Hermione took staggered steps back as the stone resonated with surprisingly loud rumbles and started to dissolve, cascading as though made of water, gradually revealing a staircase that descended into the depths of the earth.

"What did you do?!" Daniel asked, running over and immediately dropping the tool he had retrieved.

"Well- I- something!" Hermione exclaimed, torn between excitement and panic. "I located one of the runes, doing just as you had described, and it wound into this spiral which I thought was especially unusual considering now it demonstrated both form and organization of which I'd never seen before, and when I went to investigate, upon my interaction the entire setup simply illuminated and then… dissolved, I suppose." She stopped to catch her breath, easing her racing pulse.

The archaeologist eyed her warily. "Ye-es. Well." He shook himself, finally processing everything that the Gryffindor had just spewed at him. "We have to go let the professor and Blakely know immediately," Daniel said.

"No need, Mr. Fawley," a cool voice intruded. Hermione's ears twitched. The voice resonated with something in her library, striking a familiar chord, though she couldn't quite remember which one. "We sensed the use of magic in the area."

The woman speaking had long brunette hair and blue eyes and was dressed in long gray pants beneath a white button up shirt with a black vest. A pair of robes was draped over her arms like a coat, and the only jewelry she wore was a pair of silver earrings and a ring with a black gem set within it. Hermione frowned internally, however, because try as she might, she couldn't get a feel for the woman. It was almost like her perception of the woman was askew and couldn't focus.

"Hermione, did you use a spell?" Professor Babbling asked from beside the dark haired woman.

"Nothing more than a simple Dust Clearing Charm, Professor," Hermione admitted.

"Nothing else?" the woman asked, appraising Hermione before her eyes darted to the staircase to the depths below.

"No," Hermione said, trying to meet the woman's eyes. She couldn't quite do it. Her gaze kept sliding away as soon as it landed on her face.

"Then how did the runes activate, I wonder," the woman mused, glancing over to Babbling. "You told me that the runes at Skelling Michael only activated when you touched your wand to them and sent a jolt of magic through it."

"I was tracing it with my finger when it activated," Hermione answered, earning another appraising look from the woman. Irritation began to well up inside her. She was sure she had seen this woman before, she just couldn't place it without getting a good look at her face.

"Helena," Babbling said, drawing the woman's attention.

"Yes, my apologies," Helena said, extending her hand. "Helena Wells."

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said, tentatively taking the hand. Helena's hand was cool to the touch, oddly, but she had a firm grip. The woman's eyes sparked with something like recognition, but before Hermione could process it, the spark was gone and the woman was withdrawing her hand.

"Well, I shall be watching your career with great interest, Miss Granger," Helena said, and for some reason Hermione had to force down a shudder. "Bathsheda, perhaps we should investigate what Miss Granger here uncovered."

"Yes, of course," Babbling said, gesturing for Helena to proceed. "By all means, lead the way Helena. We'll be right along. I want to have Blakely go fetch the rest of the team."

"Excellent," Helena replied. She gave another glance to Hermione before she descended down the steps and disappeared into the darkness below.

"Daniel, go get Blakely and the rest of our team," Babbling said.

"Right away, Professor," Daniel said, running off and almost tripping over the tools he had discarded.

"Hermione, do you think you can remember what those runes you uncovered looked like?" Babbling asked, examining her closely. Hermione breathed a soft sigh of relief. After Ms. Well's intent yet untouchable gaze, her professor's familiar expression was soothing. "I need to compare what you saw to what we found."

"Indubitably, professor," Hermione said, searching in her library for a moment before retrieving the memory. Quick as flash, she drew her wand and started drawing the runes in the dirt for Babbling to see. The Runes professor watched, fascinated, as Hermione replicated the unknown runic circle down to the tiniest detail.

"Impressive, very impressive," she murmured once Hermione pulled away and she got a clear look. "They are the exact same as those we found at the other sites, so why did they react to touch this time? Something to ponder I think. However, we should go see if Helena found anything."

A swish of Babbling's hand later, a rune representing stone appeared in the air. There was a flash and the runes Hermione had drawn and the surrounding dirt had turned to stone.

"Must always preserve what we find," Babbling said, placing a gentle hand on Hermione's shoulder. She nodded, taking the advice to heart. Together the pair descended the staircase and into a long corridor of dull gray stone. There was an eerie feeling to it; every meter or so was a silver orb of light, floating just above their heads.

"This is truly fascinating," Babbling muttered, the atmosphere of the place almost necessitating her quieter tone. There was something in the air, something that made the hairs on Hermione's arms stand on end. "Perfectly preserved, just like the other sites. I thought these were centuries old before… but now they have to be older. Millennia perhaps."

"I've never heard of anything like this," Hermione whispered, stopping to examine a spherical indent in the wall. To her perceptive eye, there was an ever so slight crack in the stone wall that she assumed had to be a door. There was just no way to open it.

"Be careful of using magic down here," Babbling said as Hermione went to pull her wand out. "Those lights, for lack of a better term yet, absorb any spell you can cast. We found that out at Skelling Michael."

"Who do you think made all of this?" Hermione asked, a sheepish look on her face as she stowed her wand away.

"I couldn't say yet," Babbling stated. "Someone -or something, for all we know- old. Very old. We have so much work to do, and I hope that will be answered as we go."

They continued along the corridor. From ahead the sound of running water or some other liquid echoed back to them, glancing off the stone walls and reaching quite far down the corridor. One of the obscure doors had been opened, likely by Helena Wells, and the pathway ended in a large, perfectly circular chamber. Examining the room as she might have her Where's Wally, Hermione could clearly see runes etched across every surface. Some stood out as familiar, others faded into the general mass of the unknown. In the exact middle of the room, an ornate stone fountain gurgled merrily, fueled by an odd silvery liquid cascading down its sides and running along shallow troughs cut into the floor. Each trough, twelve in total, ran up to the curved wall and then seemed to disappear under it. Helena was examining the fountain, walking around it slowly.

"This chamber must serve a different purpose than those you found previously," she said, noticing Hermione and Babbling. "You never mentioned a fountain."

"It must be a wellspring," Babbling replied. "This does confirm the theory I had, about the chambers being a network of sorts."

"Indeed, although something has changed," Helena said, gesturing for them to take a closer look at a trough, one that came from what Hermione guessed was the southwest. For a moment she wished she'd been given Ginny's gift for direction as well. Along the trough, and in the liquid itself, small chunks of crystal were visible. In fact, all of the liquid had the crystal in it.

"Crystal? But how? And of what origin?" Babbling muttered. "That wasn't in the last sample we took."

"No, it wasn't," Helena stated, looking over the crouched professor and directly at Hermione. Once again, she felt like the Department of Mysteries official was appraising her, searching for something by sight with those eyes she couldn't meet. "I'll be taking another sample with me when I return to the Ministry to compare. Our Unspeakable believe they might know what the substance is, but want to run some further tests."

"Of course, of course," Babbling said. "My team will copy the runes here, especially on this fountain. They look different than the other sites. Speaking of… I suppose the DoM is going to commandeer this site as well?"

"You know how it works," Helena stated mater-of-factly, looking back at Professor Babbling. "If it's magic, it's ours. Do please keep me in the loop about anything you discover from these runes. Now, I must send a message to Croaker. Good day, Bathsheda… Miss Granger."

With that said, the Department of Mysteries official walked back down the corridor, passing the excited members of Babbling's team.

"Hermione, be a dear and help Blakely and the others copy the runes," Babbling said. "We have to work fast before Helena returns, and you do seem to have a knack for that sort of work."

"Aren't we associated with them?" Hermione asked.

"We are… but that doesn't mean I trust the Department of Mysteries not to lock us out," Babbling said, snapping her fingers at Blakely and pointing at the fountain. "I want to solve this mystery… No, I need to solve this mystery. I'm sure you understand."

Hermione nodded, understanding completely. Her last four years at Hogwarts were testament that she, and her friends, couldn't resist solving a mystery and their stubbornness in sticking with it. Certainly such behavior had only blossomed following her awakening. That said, she mused to herself as she helped the portly assistant unroll rubbing paper, she didn't think anything she or Harry or Ron had gotten up to at school came close to this. They had to work quickly- well, perhaps not her. She had already memorized the entire room, down to each rune. She knew she was going to be spending many a night at Grimmauld Place and Hogwarts trying to decipher what was now stored in her library. Meanwhile, however, the rest of the team could use as much of her help as she could offer.

As wizards and witches wearing dark navy robes arrived, each with the emblem of an open eye with some sort of star behind it on their lapels, Professor Babbling had to direct her team out of the chamber. It was quick, so quick Hermione almost didn't catch it, but she saw the professor take a flask of the liquid substance and stow it away.

"Blakely, take everyone back to the museum and start working out what we found," Babbling said as they emerged from the underground chamber. In the distance, more wizards and witches in navy robes were securing the site for the DoM. "Make sure those Unspeakables don't take too much of our supplies. I have a feeling we're going to need them."

"Right away, Bathsheda," Blakely said, giving a small salute.

"Hermione, would you like to come with us or return to Grimmauld Place?" Babbling asked once the others were out of earshot. The looks Hermione got from the team members were far from what she had received upon her arrival. There was some respect there now.

"I'll come with you," Hermione said.

"Good to hear. Oh, and I do think this goes without saying… we can't discuss any of this with anyone outside of our team," Babbling added. "Not even your friends can know about our work. Understand?"

Hermione nodded, understanding that it wasn't her place to tell Harry or Ginny or Ron anything about what she had seen so far today. It wasn't often that she was the bearer of secrets among them, but when she was, she felt it practically her duty to set an example for the blabber-mouthed boys. Besides, if she was honest with herself, she didn't think any of them would appreciate it as much as she did. They might love a mystery or puzzle, but what Professor Babbling was doing was not really in their interests, nor would pouring over ancient runes texts be. When they left Stonehenge, Hermione taking the offered hand from her teacher, she smiled widely knowing she wasn't going back to Grimmauld Place until later that night.

After that summer's excitement, the start of the new school year seemed to come upon them far too quickly. Mrs. Weasley had run out to Diagon Alley and returned with arms laden with books and other bits and bobs needed for the coming term. Hermione couldn't help proudly wearing her prefect badge around the house and at dinner, obviously excited about further helping the Runes professor and being a role model for new students. It was odd how widely their possessions seemed to have scattered about Grimmauld Place following everyone's arrival. Grabbing books and belongings and shoving them into their trunks took almost all of the afternoon the day before the teenagers were due to return to Hogwarts. After a quick dinner, Mrs. Weasley shooed everyone off to an early bedtime, warning them that Mad-Eye wanted everything to run like clockwork the next morning.

Harry felt slightly guilty that extra stress had been added on because he required a guard for the trip to King's Cross, but Mrs. Weasley had assured him it was no trouble. Arthur had gone off to one of the late night shifts for the Order, but the matriarch took it in stride. Kemper had yet to return with the girls, as well, and several of the other members were out on various orders of business that evening. Sirius, even, had been locked away in his room planning his own great adventures. Without them, the only sound about the ancient house that night was the creaking of the stairs as Mrs. Weasley took her nightly patrol around their bedrooms.

Harry himself couldn't bring his mind to settle. He turned a small collection of pebbles in the air over his head, watching them spin individually and all at once, molding into various patterns and shapes. The exercise cost only the barest of his attentions, unfortunately leaving his mind to wander. How did he get here? How the hell…. He sighed. Overhead the pebbles crunched into floating rubble in his frustration then reverted as he took a steadying breath. Somehow, entire weeks had been cast aside, leaving single memories hanging close and personal. The Maze, the Dementors, the trial. He didn't even want to touch on thoughts of Snape or the whole situation with the memories or the prophecy. Even with his new abilities, he'd hardly held his own that night, in the… no, he wouldn't go back there either.

Another steadying breath stopped the shaking overhead. He shifted on his pillows. How could everyone else be so settled? Even Hermione had relaxed again following her day trip with the Runes professor. At least, as much as she ever did. She pushed through as though there was nothing wrong. Shouldn't she, of all people, have noticed the constant comings and goings of the Order? And still the ministry was doing nothing. There hadn't been a word about Voldemort, just as they all had anticipated. What were Kemper and the girls doing? Why hadn't they been around for lessons if, as Kemper had promised, they'd be sure to learn new techniques.

He wished he had Hermione's skill for meditation. If nothing else, it might calm his racing thoughts on nights like this.

Mostly, though, if Harry admitted it to himself, the coming school year made him more nervous than he'd been in some time. Adrenaline and fear he could deal with, but slow nervousness set him on edge. That no one seemed to be considering the future as heavily as he was made him a bit sick, to be honest. He wished he could be more like Ron, happily playing chess or exploding snap and ignorant to the world around him. Even Hermione had it better right now. Only Ginny seemed to have any inkling of how much Harry dealt with in his private thoughts.

He shifted again and set the pebbles aside, stacking them beside his glasses on the bedside table. He stared at them, thoughts whirling, for another few hours before sleep finally came.

It was a restless night, full of tossing and turning. All too soon he was blearily lifting his head, hearing Mary calling up the stairs for everyone to wake up, breakfast was ready. Groggily, Harry reached for his glasses and started to dress and get ready at top speed. The dreary thoughts of the night before slipped away as anticipation for the return to the castle overtook them. He welcomed the change. Most days were stress free and relaxed; only at night would the heaviness press in. Now, however, he could focus on the commotion outside of his bedroom door, the least of all being Mrs. Weasley screaming at Fred and George. From what he could tell, the twins had bewitched their trunks to fly and had almost taken Ginny with them down two flights of stairs.

" –COULD HAVE BROKEN HER NECK, YOU BLOODY IDIOTS! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU, YOU DON'T NEED TO WHIP YOUR WANDS OUT FOR EVERYTHING?!"

"She's on a roll already," Hermione gasped, slipping into Harry's room with Hedwig perched on her shoulder. Crookshanks was meowing around her ankles. The glittering "Prefect" badge was already pinned to the front of her jumper. "Thanks for letting me borrow Hedwig to let my parents know about everything."

"No problem," Harry replied, ruffling Hedwig's feathers affectionately as she swooped over to her cage obediently.

"THERE ARE SAFER WAYS TO SAVE TIME!"

"Mad-Eye and the rest of our guard are already-" there was the distinct crack of a spell and loud exclamations that sounded like the twins" –downstairs."

"THAT'S ENOUGH OUT OF YOU AS WELL, GINEVRA!"

"Sounds like Ginny let them have it," Harry chuckled, helping Hedwig into her cage.

"Yeah…"

"WILL YOU LOT GET DOWN HERE NOW, PLEASE!"

Hermione jumped as though scalded and hurried out of the room, the ginger cat streaking along behind his owner. Harry seized his trunk and Hedwig's cage, and set off downstairs after the cloud of bushy hair that marked his friend's progress.

The Weasley children were milling about the kitchen, pieces of toast ensconced within napkins in their hands. "You're coming with me and Arthur, Harry," Sirius said cheerfully as Harry entered the kitchen. A piece of toast was thrust into his hand unceremoniously as Mrs. Weasley dashed past him, wand out while she tried to stop smoke issuing from the twins' trunks. "We're your personal guards on the walk to King's Cross since Hagrid isn't here. He and Madame Maxine are taking a little longer on their mission than expected."

"I wouldn't think Voldemort would try something that brazen," Harry said.

"Neither do we, but Alastor is insisting on it," Mr. Weasley said. Despite his night out and the dark circles under his eyes, the eldest red-head seemed determined for the work. "He even had a few other Order members stake out the key intersections on the way there to watch for any suspicious activity. The trunks are going to be transported directly to Hogwarts once you lot are on the train, just so we wouldn't be encumbered by them if an attack does happen."

"Why couldn't we borrow cars?" Ginny asked. She smiled at Harry as he perched on the arm of her chair and put a hand on his knee in greeting.

"The Department of Magical Transportation controls who gets to use them, but Fudge and his offices have final approval," Mr. Weasley answered, ducking out of the way of his wife. "Sirius applied for one…"

"But was flatly rejected," the Auror finished flatly. "Apparently the word of a Senior Auror about a credible security threat to the life of a VIP isn't worth the Minister's bloody bowler."

"Am I going to have to come down there and drag you lollygaggers out of that kitchen?!" Moody roared from the door. "We're behind schedule as it is!" Everyone gathered in the kitchen could clearly hear the sound of the front door being wrenched open and the pounding of Moody's staff on its way to the front stoop.

"Have fun, and good luck with classes," Mary said, giving Harry a hug. She seemed to be the only relaxed one of the adults gathered. "If you need anything, you let us know straight away."

"I will, Mary," Harry answered, hugging her back.

"Watch your back, Harry," Tonks said. "Whoever is gonna be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts is going to be looking for any reason to increase Fudge's influence at Hogwarts."

"I'll be sure to watch out for them," he said.

"Come on, come on," Mrs. Weasley urged, gesturing for everyone to vacate the kitchen. Sirius placed an arm around Harry's shoulders and guided him out behind everyone else except Mary and Tonks, who were lucky enough to stay behind.

The group stepped out into the weak September sunlight, following Moody as he stumped his way along. The collected members of the Order of the Phoenix formed a sort of shield around the children, with Sirius sticking close to Harry and Ginny as the pair walked hand-in-hand. Harry took a moment of peace from this reassuring contact, smiling at her and letting it wash away his worries from the night before. In all, it was an uneventful twenty minutes. Their little party expanded to include Lupin, Emmeline Vance, Dedalus Diggle, and Kingsley Shacklebolt. The children spent the walk talking, but conversation was stagnant among the Order members, who were on constant lookout for anything that hinted at a Death Eater.

Despite the intensity of their guard, the group of students reached King's Cross without much fuss. The extra order members peeled off once more, leaving only those who had set out from Grimmauld Place. Casually, Harry, Sirius, and Ginny leaned against the barrier at Moody's direction and fell through easily onto the magical platform. The Hogwarts Express was splendid as ever, the crimson steam engine belching clouds of steam over the packed platform. Harry felt his spirits soar as he breathed in that familiar sooty smell, smiling at the thought of Fudge tearing his bowler hat to pieces at not being able to prevent Harry from returning to school.

"Harry, a moment," Sirius muttered quietly, looking over at the milling group of Weasleys, Hermione, and Order of the Phoenix members. Ginny squeezed Harry's hand and ran over to where her mother was passing out snack packs for the train. Harry followed Sirius over to a small enclosed room that he assumed was for those who Apparated here with their families. Mad-Eye glared at them disapprovingly with his magical eye, sending shivers down the young Gryffindor's back. He had much preferred it when the eye was bigger, less… real.

"I wanted to give you something," Sirius said once they were alone, fishing around in his jacket. "Mad-Eye and I found it when we were cleaning out Sturgis Podmore's place yesterday."

"Did you find out what happened to him?" Harry asked. He had only met the square jawed wizard one time, right when Sirius had hosted the first meeting of the Order of the Phoenix. He had been a quiet man, but had been friendly enough in the two minutes of conversation they had before Mrs. Weasley shooed him away.

"Completely vanished," Sirius responded, finally pulling out an old photo. There was a sadness in his eyes as he looked at the figures. "No signs of a struggle either… but here… thought this might interest you. Original Order of the Phoenix."

He handed the picture to Harry, revealing three rows of witches and wizards smiling up them. Some were waving or raising glasses in a toast, and all of them seemed happy. Right in the middle was Dumbledore, a grandfatherly smile on his face and most likely a twinkle in those blue eyes.

"There's Dumbledore of course," Sirius said, pointing out each member. "Aberforth and Moody as well. I always forget what Moody looked like with a whole nose. Marlene McKinnon… she was killed two weeks after this was taken, Death Eaters killed her entire family except for one younger sister. Frank and Alice Longbottom…"

Harry's stomach clenched as he looked at Alice Longbottom, seeing many of the same features on her face that Neville had.

"…I always meant to repay Bellatrix and her husband and his brother for what they did to them," Sirius continued saying. "Broke their minds with the Cruciatus Curse, they've been in St. Mungo's ever since. Augusta and Neville visit them every Christmas from what Augusta told me. Let's see, Emmeline you've met and Moony of course. Benjy Fenwick… only found bits of him unfortunately. Edgar Bones, Amelia's brother, they got him and his family too except for Amelia and your classmate Susan.

"Sturgis Podmore, another friend gone because of those bastards likely. Caradoc Dearborn, he disappeared a few months after this. Hagrid, looks the same as always. Elphias Doge, he loved that hat, said it was a family heirloom. Molly's brothers, Gideon and Fabian, you saw them in Snape's memories. Dorcas Meadowes, Voldemort personally killed her for some reason. Me of course and…"

Harry's heart pounded as he looked at the images of his mother and father waving up at him, the small figure of Wormtail next to them. Even though Harry had watched Wormtail die in the graveyard, he still felt anger when he looked at the man who betrayed his parents.

"Why show me this?" Harry asked, looking away from the photo.

"Because you're the young ones now," Sirius said solemnly. "You, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, the twins, all of your friends and classmates… it's your fight too. Molly might not like it, or accept it fully yet, but soon enough it will be all of you fighting them. After everything you went through at the end of last year, I wanted to show you that your mum and dad thought standing up against the forces of darkness was just as important then… even if it meant we lost a lot of good people to stop them."

Harry was silent as Sirius's words sank in, a somber feeling pervading the room. A sudden tap on the glass broke them out of the stretching silence as both godson and godfather had been lost in thought. Moody was on the other side of the glass, holding up two fingers. Harry made to hand the photo back to Sirius, but the Marauder gently pushed it back towards him.

"Keep it," he said quietly. "For when the night is dark and it looks like there is no hope. You'll need the motivation, pup. Now, let's get you on that train."

Clamping an arm around Harry's shoulders, Sirius led Harry out of the room and back to the group from Grimmauld Place, Moody stumping along behind them. Mrs. Weasley was still fussing over her children, right up until a high pitched whistle sounded from the train. The students still on the platform began hurrying into the cars.

"Quick, quick," the Weasley matriarch said, hugging all of the children rapidly. She crushed Harry tightly to her bosom, released him and cradled Hermione the same. They may as well have been born redheaded. "Now write, but be careful what you say. If anything got left behind, I'll send it along. Onto the train, now, hurry!"

"Look after yourselves," Remus said, shaking hands all around. "The Ministry is going to be looking for anything they can use against Dumbledore."

"Keep your heads down and eyes peeled for trouble," Moody growled, throwing open a door to the nearest train carriage as the second warning whistle sounded. The children clambered onto the train, a final whistle sounding.

"See you!" Harry called out as the train began the slow creep forward. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny waved beside him. The figures on the platform shrank rapidly, the closest figure Sirius still waving farewell until the train rounded the bend and he was lost to sight.

The moment of semi-desperate silence that always seemed to follow one's departure from their parents shattered when Fred clapped his hands together. "Well, this has all been very touchy-feely, but can't stand around chatting all day. Urgent business to discuss with Lee. Have a smashing train ride kiddies."

"We bid thee all adieu," George added, before he and his twin disappeared down the corridor to the right. The train was still gathering speed, the houses outside the windows flashing past. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny swayed where they stood.

"Shall we go find a compartment then?" Harry asked.

"I can't," Hermione said, apologetically. "I have to go report to the prefect carriage. I don't think I have to stay there for the entire journey. The letter said we get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and have to patrol the corridors from time to time."

"Let us know who the other new prefects are," Ginny said.

"Of course," Hermione said, heading off to the engine end of the train with Crookshanks streaking along behind her. Harry felt it a bit odd to watch Hermione leave them. She had traveled with them on the Hogwarts Express ever since the end of their first year. Ron looked equally awkward watching Hermione walk away, a curious expression on his face.

"Come on," Ginny said, nudging Harry, "if we get a move on, we can save her a seat."

"Right," Harry said. They struggled off down the corridor, dodging around other students as those of all years caught up with friends or made new ones. They would occasionally stop to peer through the glass-paneled doors of different compartments, looking for some of their friends or an empty place to sit. Harry couldn't help noticing that he was attracting far more attention than he usually did. Looks of either great interest or thought met his gaze, and several students would scuttle away to whisper among themselves as he and the two Weasleys passed.

"Bloody Prophet at work," Ron grumbled. Harry gave an internal sigh. He knew Ron's muttered oath was likely true. The Daily Prophet was the only outlet of news, besides the Wizarding Wireless, that the students and their families had, or, at the very least, believed. He wondered dully whether the people staring or pointing or whispering believed the stories Rita and the other writers for the Prophet wrote about him.

"Bugger off," Ginny said, her wand out in a trice as two Slytherin third years sniggered at Harry.

"They aren't worth the effort," a voice said wistfully from the last carriage. "Frankly, I think some Wrackspurts got onto the train. Everyone has been so… odd."

"Hi Luna," Ginny said as she, Harry, and Ron entered the compartment and took seats. Harry was a bit surprised to see the blonde Ravenclaw sitting alone, rather than at Neville's side. "Did you have a nice summer?"

"Father and I went to Norway over the summer…" Luna started to explain happily, setting down her copy of the latest Quibbler. As Luna started telling Ginny about the Lovegoods' expedition to find a Ratatoskr, Harry couldn't help but notice some changes about the girl. First, and foremost, though she still popped in the odd comment, she didn't seem as whimsical and distant as she had been in previous years. Even though her story was fantastical, it sounded much like her father had been the one pushing finding this creature. In exchange it seemed as though she had taken to expressing her individuality another way. One long lock of her blonde hair had been dyed a multitude of colors, flowing into a rainbow. It was an odd combination with her pale gray eyes, but it worked for the eccentric Ravenclaw.

"…and then we had to come back before term started, but we were very, very close to finding one Father thinks," Luna concluded. "They're very good messengers, if one reads the old tales."

"Sounds lovely, Luna," Ginny said, smiling. "Have you seen anyone else from Professor Kemper's lessons yet?"

"Not yet, but the ride is still young," Luna replied brightly. "Neville got a new plant over the summer; I think he brought it with him on the train."

"I imagine Abygail and Nicole are busy," Ron said, brushing it aside. "We didn't see them at all over the summer."

"I did actually," Luna said, snapping her fingers as a thought suddenly popped into her head. "When we were in Norway, Professor Kemper arrived with Abygail, Nicole, and Jasmine to talk with my father briefly. I didn't hear much about what was said, but they seemed to be looking for something or someone and Father had some information for them."

"I wonder what they were looking for," Harry muttered. "We only saw Professor Kemper a few times at Sirius' place. He never mentioned anything beyond expecting our lessons to continue."

"I'm quite looking forward to those," Luna said happily. "I learned quite a lot from him. Will you be joining us Ron?"

"Uh I'm not sure," Ron stated awkwardly. Harry shifted uncomfortably, and judging by the fidgeting from the others, he wasn't the only one. They had been tight lipped about what they had been doing last year and not mentioned everything to Ron yet. Harry hadn't been sure if they were allowed to in all honesty.

Outside the window, the train continued rattling along its winding course to Hogwarts. The countryside sped by as the conversation in the carriage shifted to what everyone expected for the new term. Speculation flew regarding the newest Defense professor, ranging from Ginny's (and Harry's) staunch support for someone like Lupin to Ron's venomous spat about hoping it wasn't Snape. Cho visited with her pack of friends in tow, but she hadn't stayed longer than to say hello to Harry. Ginny had been doing her best impression of McGonagall's stare. Demelza, Dean, and a few other friends visited, some staying to chat for a few moments and others running off after greeting everyone, but none ever lingered in their compartment.

Even after an hour there were no signs of the Greengrass sisters or the Ericson sisters, or even Neville and Hermione. Afternoon came swiftly, and time continued to tick on without event. The food trolley had already come and gone. They were all delving into the usual variety of sweets and snacks when the compartment door finally opened and Hermione and Neville entered.

Neville seemed to have packed on some more muscle over the course of the summer, and he was standing taller now, more confident. The sight seemed to take Ron, at least, a bit by surprise. To Harry it wasn't entirely unexpected. He had been witness to the gradual changes beginning in the other young man over the past year. It seemed reasonable that his added effort in classes and his work with Kemper would have given him the confidence to take physical changes in stride. It probably hadn't hurt when further recognition came in the form of the red and gold badge pinned to his vest.

"We were wondering who else might have gotten Prefect," Harry said, patting Neville's shoulder as he took his seat next to his girlfriend. "Congratulations mate."

"Thanks Harry. It came as a real shock to be honest," Neville replied as he put an around Luna and she cuddled into his side, magazine still in her hand. "I fully expected you to get it."

"I'm far too much of a headache for anyone to make me a Prefect," Harry chuckled.

"So who're the other new'uns?" Ron asked, throwing Chocolate Frogs to both new arrivals. Hermione looked thoroughly disgruntled as she caught the chocolate, biting off its head in irritation.

"Malfoy is one of the Slytherins', isn't he?" Ginny guessed, reading Hermione's annoyance correctly. The bushy-hair girl nodded.

"Luckily, Daphne is the female appointee for their house," Hermione said. "I couldn't have borne the idea of dealing with Malfoy and that bovine Pansy Parkinson. Merlin, I wanted to wipe that superior smirk off Malfoy's face when I saw him in the Prefect's carriage."

"He wasn't too pleased to see us as the Gryffindor prefects though," Neville added. "Couldn't say a word though because the Head Boy and Girl were there, and they didn't strike me as the type to let Malfoy have a long reach."

"Who's Hufflepuff?" Ron asked.

"Ernie Macmillan and Hannah Abbott," Neville answered.

"And Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil are for Ravenclaw," Hermione finished.

"Oh good, Padma has always been nice," Luna said before she retreated once again behind her edition of The Quibbler.

"Anthony is a good choice too," Ginny added. "He's friends with Michael Corner and Terry Boot."

"Michael Corner… isn't that the boy Rita Skeeter drugged and coerced into saying you two were having an affair?" Ron asked.

"Yeah he is, but he at least apologized to me after all of that," Ginny said, shrugging. "They're not bad guys, pretty grounded actually."

"So, we're required to patrol the train at intervals, and we can award punishments if we see any misbehaving," Hermione continued. "I fully expect Malfoy to abuse that power. He really shouldn't have been trusted with this sort of responsibility."

"Ah, now that just hurts, Granger," someone drawled as the door to the compartment slid open. Harry sighed internally at the sight of Malfoy smirking at all of them from between Crabbe and Goyle. "I was just wondering the same thing though. Who in their right mind would trust the Mudblood and Longbottom with being Prefects? One can't hold his wand straight and the other can't see anything over the edge of her books."

"Considering both have worked hard over the last five years, I would say Professor McGonagall was in her right mind," Harry answered evenly, standing up. Malfoy's smirk grew slightly more pronounced.

"Minding your manners, very good Potter," Malfoy said. "As you clearly see, I unlike you, have been made a Prefect. So I, unlike you, can hand out punishments."

"True, you are a Prefect," Harry said. "But you, unlike me, are a pompous git. So why don't we just skip to where you leave us alone and you can avoid being humiliated by Scar-Head, the Weasels, and the two new Gryffindor Prefects who are sure to take their side. Again." Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville, and Luna laughed. Malfoy's lip curled, giving Harry some small satisfaction that he clearly remembered what happened at the end of last term.

"Tell me, how does it feel to be second best to Longbottom, Potter?" he asked.

"Neville earned it," Harry stated with a casual shrug. "I'm not going to hold it against my friend for him being recognized. Honestly, Draco, it's a bit of a relief that I don't have any added responsibilities."

Malfoy's smirk twitched and his expression bespoke confusion for a second. Harry hadn't wanted to be a prefect, and after the revelations over the summer, he had more important things to worry about on his plate. Maybe that was one more consideration Dumbledore and McGonagall had taken into account. No matter the his or their reasons, however, it was nice to turn the blonde Slytherin's world on its edge.

"Thank you, Malfoy," a cheerful feminine voice interrupted. "We were looking everywhere for our friends." Through a gap between Malfoy and Crabbe, Harry could just make out Abygail and Nicole.

"Like a bloodhound… oh wait no! Like a Niffler!" Nicole said, adding onto her sister's statement. "We can count on the famous White Ferret to ferret out Harry Potter."

Abygail giggled while those in the compartment roared with laughter. Malfoy's dumbstruck face turned bright pink, his lesson at the hands of the imposter Moody likely still fresh in his memory. Even Crabbe and Goyle gave small guffaws, but quieted down at his glare.

"You all better watch your step," Malfoy hissed. "It's going to be a new age at Hogwarts, and I'll be dogging your footsteps if you step out of line." The Slytherin prefect and his cronies left, shouldering past the blonde Gryffindor and her sister in a rush. With the way finally cleared, the two Ericson sisters moved to lean against the door to the compartment.

Behind the elder two, and clearly attempting not to be noticed, slunk the third Ericson girl. Harry eyed her curiously as he retook his seat. For once she wasn't tucked behind her ever-present tome, but instead carried it under one arm. Her face held many of the same features as her sisters', but she seemed stark in contrast, darker, perhaps. It seemed to Harry that the difference lay not only in her features but also in the way she held herself- as though anything, and certainly anyone, she glanced at had cause to make her suspicious. It took him a moment to realize that that suspicion had been turned on him, and he flushed a little as he looked away.

"I wonder what he meant by its going to be a new age at Hogwarts," Ginny said.

"He was likely referring to his being a Prefect," Abygail answered, shrugging. "Have a good summer everyone? Master Kemper told us about the excitement you had, Harry. Hope the ministry wasn't too awful."

"What excitement?" Neville asked.

Harry gave a brief summary of what happened over the summer for Neville and Luna, including what he had seen in the Pensieve. Neville and Luna, for their part, didn't react with horror or shock. Neville's face had grown serious while Luna lost the faraway drift she normally held. To what probably should have surprised him, but, admittedly, didn't, none of the three sisters responded as though any of this were new information. If they hadn't heard through Kemper, he wouldn't have been surprised to find they'd uncovered it themselves.

"I can't speak for Luna, but I'm behind you Harry," Neville said.

"I am too," she quickly added.

Harry gave a small smile to his two friends. He knew he could count on them, but it was somewhat of a relief to hear it out loud.

"So, what did you accomplish during your summer?" Hermione asked, leaning forward eagerly. "We didn't see either of you," she gestured to Abygail and Nicole, "and I doubt we'd have been graced with your presence at all, Jasmine, even if we had."

"We were busy with lessons," Abygail answered promptly, stepping on her sister's foot as she opened her mouth. "Lessons and traveling with Master Kemper, as usual."

"Ow ow ow," Nicole muttered under her breath. "You can stop doing that, sis. I wasn't going to say anything."

"Anything about what?" Harry asked, leaning forward with interest. Despite how long they had been friends with the sisters, there were still mysteries hanging around them and their mentor that hadn't been remotely touched upon yet. If Harry had to guess, whatever it was they couldn't talk about followed along the same lines as the hints dropped by Mikhail at the end of last year.

"None of your business," Jasmine snapped, glaring about. Her bitter gaze seemed to land most heavily upon Hermione, who leaned back slightly as though personally affronted.

Luna casually brushed her hair over one shoulder, seemingly unaffected by this exchange. "I was hoping to talk with you again about that book."

"Not now, Luna," the youngest Ericson all but growled. With a huff she slid off the padded leather seat and toward the door. "I don't know how you manage this… posse of yours. If you need me, I'll be back in our compartment, buried in your Standard Book of Spells, Abygail." With that she strode out into the hall. For all her apparent frustration, she closed the sliding door delicately.

The compartment sat in silence for a moment. "What was that about?" Ginny finally worked up the courage to ask.

"Don't worry about her," Abygail answered. "I swear she's going to get sorted into Ravenclaw even before the hat touches her head."

"Speaking of, we should be getting back as well," Nicole said, reaching down to massage her foot.

"Right, right," Abygail said. "I wanted to pass along a message that the arrangement from last year will be continuing. Expect a message after the first week of classes." That said, the two Ericson sisters closed the door and left.

"One day, I really want to know everything that they're hiding," Hermione murmured to general agreement. Harry turned to look out the window, his head pressed against the glass, and lost himself in thought.

The weather remained undecided as they traveled further north. Rain would splatter against the windows halfheartedly, then the sun would emerge and banish fouler weather for a time. Then clouds would obscure the sun again and the cycle would repeat. When darkness began to fall in earnest and the lamps came on inside the compartments, Hermione and Neville left to patrol the train for a time. Ginny had curled up against Harry, snuggled into his side while she read a book. Luna was humming while reading her copy of The Quibbler. Ron had a chess set out, playing a game against himself.

Eventually, Neville and Hermione returned and informed everyone they were only ten minutes away from Hogwarts and everyone should probably change. The boys left the compartment to give the girls some privacy, then switched with the girls to get their robes on. Neville and Hermione had affixed their prefect badges carefully to their chests.

At last the train began to slow down, the whistle sounding as the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station. Up and down the train, the usual racket and ruckus of students exiting their compartments filled the cars. Neville and Hermione went out to help supervise the chaos, yelling out instructions and commands. The rest of their group followed Harry, who was carrying Crookshanks' basket, out onto the platform the cool night air biting at their faces. The nearby pine trees rustled along the path that led down to the Black Lake.

"First years, please line up here! All first years to me!" a familiar female voice called out. A lantern came swinging by, revealing the prominent chin had severe haircut of Professor Grubbly-Plank, the witch who had briefly taught Care of Magical Creatures last year. He couldn't help the crestfallen expression at not hearing his friend, even when he knew Hagrid wasn't going to be there.

Harry hadn't been the only person hoping to see the bearded man. It just felt odd to Harry not to hear Hagrid's booming voice calling for the first years. He and Ginny followed along behind Ron and Luna towards the thestral-pulled carriages, none of them being able to find Neville or Hermione in the confusion. A short distance away, Malfoy and his entire group of cronies had shoved some second years out of the way to take their carriage. Seconds later, Hermione emerged from the crowd with Neville, both panting.

"I'm going to report him," Hermione was seething as their group found a carriage and clambered inside. "Not even had his badge a day and already bullying people worse than ever."

"He'll get his in the end; Daphne looked right pissed about it," Neville said.

"I just hope there is pudding," Luna said, completely sending the conversation on a tangent.

The carriage rattled and swayed as it took off towards the gleaming castle in the distance, passing through the gates of the school grounds. Hogwarts was as grand as ever, a shining beacon in the moonless night with every window blazing brightly. The procession jingled to a halt near the stone steps that led up to the great oak doors of the castle. They had been thrust open, revealing the gleaming Entrance Hall. Exiting the carriage, they joined the crowd streaming up the steps. Luna lingered for a moment, just long enough to give their equine escort a gentle pat, drawing odd looks from everyone except Harry and Neville. Torches crackled merrily in the Entrance Hall, the echo of the students' footsteps filling the space as they moved into the Great Hall.

The four long House tables in the Great Hall were filling up under a star-filled night, the ceiling above projecting the clear evening for all to see. Candles floated above the tables, the castle ghosts moving about as well and talking amongst themselves. As Harry and his friends made their way to the Gryffindor table, he couldn't help but to notice how students would lean in and start whispering. It was to be expected, with the daily attacks on him and the headmaster. Luna gave her boyfriend a quick kiss before she skipped to the Ravenclaw table, while Ginny ran down to where Demelza Robbins and the Creevey brothers were sitting to greet them.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Neville took their usual spot in the middle of the table, saving a space for Ginny. Parvati and Lavender gave them overly friendly greetings, which clued Harry in they had been discussing him just before they sat down. Seamus was looking surly, but Dean greeted them normally, shaking hands all around and explaining how he had been involved in a training camp with his favorite football team over the summer.

"Harry… isn't that Fudge's Senior Undersecretary?" Hermione asked, staring at the staff table.

Harry whipped his head around, following Hermione's gaze. Dumbledore, resplendent in deep-purple robes, had his head inclined towards the squat, toad-like witch Harry had finally encountered during his trial. From the moment he had clamped eyes on Dolores Umbridge, Harry had immediately understood why his godfather hated her. This evening, the woman had a pink cardigan on, and a pink bow in her mousy brown hair.

"This isn't good at all," Harry said.

"No kidding," Abygail muttered from her seat nearby. "There was only one opening Fudge could have put her in."

"Oh surely not…" Ron grumbled loudly, while Harry's stomach tightened into knots at the thought of that woman teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts. "At least Snape's more interesting than some stuck up ministry lady."

"Master Kemper wasn't thrilled to learn it either," Abygail said as Ron trailed off. "He really dislikes Umbridge."

"He's not the only one," Ginny added as she rejoined the group, taking her seat next to Harry. "Look at Snape."

Harry did, and once again that conflict of emotions welled up inside him as he looked at the Potions Master. Snape was glaring at Umbridge with a look of loathing far beyond any Harry had ever seen from the Potions Master, even towards himself. Further observation was cut off by the arrival of Professor McGonagall and the procession of first year students, Professor Grubbly-Plank sliding into Hagrid's usual seat at the end of the staff table. McGonagall carried the usual stool that the Sorting Hat perched upon. The hat itself looked just as shabby as ever as she unrolled it and propped it on the seat.

The buzz of talk in the Great Hall faded away. The first years lined up in front of the staff table, looking terrified. Well, almost all of them. The auburn hair of Jasmine was visible, and from what he could see of her face, Harry would almost say she was bored. Other new students weren't so placid. One boy in particular was shaking like a leaf, and Harry felt he could empathize with him. Five years later and he could still remember what waiting to be Sorted was like.

The whole school waited, wondering what the Sorting Hat would say this year. The rip near the hat's brim opened wide like a mouth and the Sorting Hat began its yearly song:

In times of old when I was new
And Hogwarts barely started,
The founders of our noble school
Thought never to be parted.
As one they built and, stone by stone,

The Hogwarts we know grew.

They took in students of all kinds

And taught them all they knew.

For Gryffindor, the selfless brave;

For Hufflepuff, the kind;

For Slytherin, those of ambition;

And Ravenclaw, those of mind.

When four together stood as one,

Many battles Hogwarts saw

As she withstood persecution,

And she overcame them all.

Now, students came and students went,

Yet Hogwarts stood proud and tall

For an army without one soldier keeps marching

But without her leader will fall.

Peace between the founders four

Was sadly not to be;

Slytherin's differences set him apart

And four dwindled down to three.

So now the Sorting Hat is here
And you all know the score:
I sort you into houses
Because that is what I'm for.
But this year I'll go further-
Listen closely to my song:
Though condemned I am to split you
Still I worry that it's wrong.
Though I must fulfil my duty
And must quarter every year
I begin to wonder whether sorting
May not bring the end I fear.
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you ...
Let the sorting now begin.

The hat became motionless as it concluded its song. Harry, like many others, he noticed, was looking around the Hall in a bit of confusion. This was certainly the darkest Sorting song he'd ever heard, and though there was scattered applause, it seemed that the students were more intent with whispering about the content than actually thanking the hat.

"I wonder if anyone will heed its words," Abygail muttered.

"Do you think it always gives out warnings when something horrible is happening?" Ginny asked.

"Oh indeed," Nearly Headless Nick said as he glided by. "The hat feels itself honor bound to give the school due warning when it senses danger. I have heard it give similar messages in the past, always the same one. Stand united, as one school."

Harry wanted to ask more about that, but Nick flew away and Professor McGonagall was giving out scorching looks to those still whispering. With a last frowning glance around the hall, the stern Transfiguration professor unrolled a scroll and lowered her eyes to it, calling out as she did so, "Abercrombie, Euan."

The shaking boy from earlier stumbled forward and put the hat on, his prominent ears keeping the hat from falling down around his head. The hat looked like it was pondering before it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

Harry clapped loudly with the rest of Gryffindor House as Euan Abrecrombie staggered to their table in relief, still looking pale and shaky. Slowly the line of students was thinned out. After only a few names, he and his friends all leaned forward eagerly, Abygail and Nicole especially. The two sisters watched in anticipation as McGonagall finished calling "Ericson, Jasmine," and their sister strode confidently to the stool. If Harry could hazard a guess, he'd have said the young girl seemed bored or downright uncaring, as though she already knew where she belonged and this would only be a formality.

Jasmine slipped herself upon the stool, arms wrapped around her torso. A handful of teasing whispers caught his attention, just as Harry noted that she was not, in fact, huddling into herself in contrast to her demeanor seconds before, but rather clutching the same book he'd seen in her possession that summer. McGonagall raised and eyebrow disapprovingly, yet said nothing as she lowered the hat.

It had barely set upon the brunette's head when an almighty cry of "RAVENCLAW" burst from its rip.

With a roll of her eyes, Jasmine set the hat back on the stool and headed toward her house's table, where wild cheers rang out. She easily sidestepped Luna's invitation and situated herself with the other first years at the end of the table. Harry and his friends clapped as well, though none as enthusiastically as Nicole, who jumped up and down with her usually bubbliness. Abygail nodded in satisfaction, smiling.

The sorting continued after Jasmine's moment of interest, and eventually Harry lost track of the small girl amidst the other arrivals. He had noticed, somewhere about the letter "L," that any new Slytherin who joined that table was gravitating towards where Astoria and Daphne Greengrass were sitting, the second years making room or gesturing for the first years to join them. Malfoy didn't look happy about it, but there wasn't much he could do in the Great Hall.

Finally, Rose Zeller was sorted into Hufflepuff, and Professor McGonagall picked up the stool and hat and carried them away. Dumbledore rose to his feet, earning a few short murmurs and complaints about delaying the feast. Those, however, quieted rapidly.

"To our newcomers, I bid you welcome," the headmaster said, his voice carrying throughout the hall. A beaming smile was on his aged face, his arms stretched wide in welcome. "To our returning pupils, welcome back! There is a time for speech making, but this is not that moment. I only have two further words to say. Tuck in!"

There was appreciative laughter and applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly, and food and drinks a plenty filled the tables. Five long tables groaned under the weight of the Welcoming Feast. The amount of food the House Elves had prepared this year was simply staggering, full of rich, warm dishes. Harry felt as though this feast, especially, was a gesture of comfort after the events at the end of the previous year. The First Years, never having seen the like, gasped and gazed wide-eyed as they helped themselves to mountains of food.

"Excellent," Ron exclaimed, digging in heartily as he grabbed pork chops and began piling them onto his plate. The others indulged as well, though with mild amusement at his never-ending hunger.

When all the students had finished eating and the noise level in the hall was steadily rising, Dumbledore stood up and made his way to his lectern in front of the staff table. Talking ceased immediately as everyone turned to face the headmaster. Harry, while feeling nice and full, felt no qualm at giving Dumbledore his full attention.

"Well, now that we are all finished with yet another excellent feast, I beg a few more moments of your time before you make your way to the warmth of your beds. I have a few start-of-term notices to give out," Dumbledore said, the grandfatherly smile on his face. "First years are to note that the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to students without an accompanying professor, which means that it is, in fact, quite forbidden. Something a few of our older students still have some trouble with, I'm afraid."

There was a smattering of polite laughter at Dumbledore's small attempt at a joke, Harry and his friends smirking as they knew Dumbledore was referring to them. Or perhaps Fred and George. Either way, it was expected and at least humorous.

"Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind all of you that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes. He has also asked me to remind you all, for the six hundred and forty-third time, of the list of banned items. The list is posted to Mr. Filch's door for your general perusal.

"We have had two changes in staffing this year. I am very pleased to welcome back Professor Grubbly-Plank, who has kindly agreed to fill for Professor Hagrid while he is on sabbatical…"

"Nice way to put it," Hermione muttered, earning a quiet chuckle from Harry, Ron, and Ginny.

"…and we are also delighted to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite, if unenthusiastic applause, for the cardigan-clad woman. Harry and his friends did not partake though, instead watching the woman and appraising her as only those who knew about the Order of the Phoenix could.

"Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on…"

"Hem, hem."

Dumbledore trailed off, looking inquiringly at Professor Umbridge. She had gotten to her feet, although it was hard to tell as she was hardly taller standing. She was smiling, and it was clear that she wanted to make a speech. Dumbledore, to his credit, only looked taken aback for a moment before his typical sparkly-eyed expression returned, and he took his seat, giving Professor Umbridge his undivided attention. Other staff members weren't having as much luck hiding their surprise… or dislike. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her hair; McGonagall's lips were as thin as Harry could ever remember them being. Snape and Kemper were both glaring at the woman with great dislike.

If there was anything that Harry found he could side the with Potions Master on after the revelations of the summer, this might perhaps be it.

"Thank you, Headmaster, for those kind words of welcome," Umbridge said. Her voice simpered out, sounding falsely cheery and airy, as though she were speaking to children in daycare rather than students over eleven. Hearing it again, he felt a great wave of loathing. Everything about Umbridge grated on him for some reason, from her sickeningly pink cardigan to her voice to that extremely superior complex she sported as she stepped up to Dumbledore's lectern.

"I must say, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts," Umbridge continued, giving another little throat cough ("Hem, hem") before she spoke again. "I am so very glad to see such smiling and happy faces looking back at me."

Harry couldn't help himself from glancing around. Not a single face he saw was smiling; they looked rather irritated at being addressed as though they were five years old. Malfoy made no effort at hiding his blatant sneer, which was bolder than it had been even around Professor Lupin's shabbiness.

"I am excited to be able to know each and every one of you, and I'm sure we all will be very, very good friends."

Students were starting to exchange looks at this, disbelief and amusement in equal parts on display. Umbridge cleared her throat again ("Hem, hem"). Harry could hear muttered whispers floating along the table. The general consensus was that this new professor had no idea how things were done at Hogwarts. When the pink toad spoke again, her voice had lost some of the breathiness and gained a more businesslike tone, and she glanced about at the whisperers with a hint of a threat.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of paramount importance. The rare gift of magic that you all were born with is something that needs to be nurtured and honed with the greatest of care, with a mind towards the preservation of generations of traditions, lest we lose more of the ancient skills that have been the cornerstones of this community. The knowledge which those who came before us have amassed must be… guarded, replenished, and polished to perfection by those who heard the call to teach."

Professor Umbridge paused again, giving a small bow to her fellow staff members. None of them bowed back, not even smiling in her direction. Professor McGonagall looked positively hawk-like, her brow furrowed and lips still thin. She could give Madam Pince at the library's loudest a run for her money.

Umbridge appeared unfazed by this reaction, plowing on with her speech after another little "Hem, hem."

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to this great school; as it should be, for without progress we face stagnation and decay. But then, sometimes progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our traditions and culture often require no further progression. How does one progress what is perfect? A balance is required then, of new and old, to further those aspects of our world that are not yet tried and tested to the fullest extent."

"It's almost like her speech is designed to stupor anyone who listens," Abygail whispered, clear distaste for what was being said on her face. Harry had felt his own attentiveness slipping, but hearing that and seeing Hermione's face equally scrunched up with dislike, he tried to refocus on what Umbridge was saying. Not many other students were, though; the quiet in the hall was breaking apart with whispered conversations. At the Slytherin table, Harry caught a glimpse of Daphne muttering something to her sister, but her eyes were on the pink lady on the dais.

Professor Umbridge either didn't notice the restlessness of the students, or she simply didn't care if her audience was paying attention. That might have been the point, but among all the drivel, Harry thought he caught a few tidbits of information about what her true purpose for being here was. He was certain, however, that Hermione had taken in more. The teachers also were attentively listening to their new colleague, clearly not enjoying the words but listening to understand what their enemy might be up to.

"Because some changes will be for the better, while others in time will be viewed as errors of judgment, it is imperative that we persevere to identify which of those changes must be expunged. Some old habits, by necessity, must be retained, whereas others, old-fashioned and out of step, must be left behind in the annals of history. Let us, together, move forward into a new era of openness, effectiveness, and accountability. Let us, together, have the shared goal to preserve what must be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning those practices that ought to be… prohibited."

With a small smile, Professor Umbridge stepped away from the lectern. Dumbledore started to clap, with the staff following his lead but only for the briefest amount of time that might even be considered polite. A few students joined in, mainly from the Slytherin table, but almost everyone else hadn't been paying attention. Dumbledore stood up again, immediately regaining the attention of the students.

"Thank you for that most… illuminating speech," he said, bowing to her. "Now, as I was saying before the professor gave us some important advice, Quidditch tryouts will be held…"

"Disgustingly illuminating," Hermione grumbled under her breath. "Circular in her words, but precise with her meaning."

"She had to have been in Slytherin," Abygail said, nodding from her seat. "Every word spoken was carefully chosen, both as a message to us and a threat to them."

Her eyes were on the staff table, where Dumbledore was still giving out announcements and the other teachers were muttering amongst themselves. Professor Babbling, in a rare appearance and in purple and tan robes, was whispering with Professor Kemper. They spoke both quickly and very intensely, if the look of concentration on Kemper's face meant anything.

"That was the dullest speech I ever heard, and that's including growing up with Percy as a brother," Ron said. "Not saying I didn't listen, but it was a struggle to keep going."

"There were plenty of tidbits in there, and now those of us paying attention know why she's here," Hermione said.

"To interfere and take control of Hogwarts for the Ministry," Harry concluded, earning concerned but somber expressions from his circle of friends. There was something to be said about your opponent being arrogant enough to reveal their hand this early, but, as Professor Kemper had taught them last year, there was also something to doing so and knowing you were in a position where you could afford to do so.

There was a great clattering and banging as Dumbledore gave his dismissal to the school, something Harry had missed while he had been caught up in his thoughts. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.

"Neville, we're supposed to show the first years where to go!" she exclaimed, waving for the new first years at the end of the Gryffindor table to come over to her.

"Calm down, Hermione. I know," Neville said, raising his hand above his head. "First years, gather over here with us please."

"Have fun with that," Ron said, pushing away from the table. A group of new students shyly made their way over to where Neville and Hermione were waiting, all of them trying very hard not to be the person up front. Harry didn't remember being like that, or that small either. One boy caught sight of Harry and started muttering to his neighbors, each one gaining horrified looks.

"Hello," he said, a friendly smile on his face that slowly slid away as the first years still seemed scared of his presence. Right, he thought glumly to himself, he should have anticipated this. Of course they would be staring; they had been subjected to a constant stream of character attacks aimed at him, trying to shape public opinion.

"Mind your manners," Ginny snapped at them. There were several sheepish looks as Hermione organized them.

"See you guys later," Harry mumbled, getting up with Ginny and leaving the Great Hall while Neville and Hermione started the tour for the first years. Pushing through the crowd of students going to their respective common rooms, he was suddenly well aware of the stares and whispers that followed in his wake.

"Bloody tossers," Ginny grumbled, giving a hard stare at two third years who had just stopped talking when they passed.

"It's to be expected," Abygail said, as she and Nicole emerged from the crowd themselves. "They didn't have time to process what Dumbledore said before Fudge and the Daily Prophet began their smear campaign."

"They also didn't hear anything about what actually happened, just that Voldemort returned," Nicole added. "Don't let it get to ya, Harry."

"It's not as bad as second year… yet anyways," Harry said, sighing.

"Have faith, Harry," Ginny said, giving her boyfriend a light kiss. "The truth will come out in the end, and the idiots will realize how stupid they've been. If not, well I'm always happy to hex them for you."

"Thanks, Gin," Harry chuckled. "I don't think you'll need to hex anyone."

"I'll keep the option open, just in case," she replied, grinning much like her older brothers.

The four of them wove their way up to the seventh floor, dodging the majority of students by ducking through hidden passages only some of the older students knew about. All the while, Harry, Ginny, and the Ericson sisters talked about what to expect from classes, especially from Umbridge's Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"That little toad is going to be a headache," Abygail grumbled, lifting the tapestry obscuring the exit of their last hidden passage. "She has a reputation, according to Master Kemper, of being… unpleasant."

"I got that impression at my trial," Harry said. "Moment I saw her; I couldn't help but loathe everything about her. Not to mention what Sirius says."

"I don't like that she's a spy for that dolt Fudge," Ginny said as they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Password?" the Fat Lady asked, interrupting their conversation.

"Uh…" Harry said, not sure what the password was. He and Ginny hadn't asked anyone what it might be, and last time he saw Neville and Hermione they hadn't known the password either.

"Mimbulus Mimbletonia," Abygail stated clearly, earning looks from the other three. "What? I asked the sixth year prefect right after dinner. Apparently Neville got to choose something he'd remember for once."

"Correct," the Fat Lady said, her portrait swinging open to reveal the welcome sight of the Gryffindor common room. It looked as cozy as ever, with its merrily crackling fire and plush armchairs that always begged for someone to come sit in them. Fred and George were already surrounded by a group of eager Gryffindors as they posted something up on the bulletin board.

"Good night, see you both in the morning," Abygail said, stifling a yawn as she and her sister disappeared up the stairs to their respective dorms. Harry barely caught the glint in her eye that said that although she seemed tired, sleep would not be immediate.

"Good night, Harry," Ginny said, giving a lingering kiss on the lips.

"Good night, Gin," Harry said as they pulled away from each other, ignoring the looks coming their way from the twins. Ginny shot her brothers a glare before departing herself, something they clearly took to heart immediately as they started to busy themselves taking questions from the students around them rather than looking up at Harry. The fourth-year chuckled to himself before he climbed the stairs to his own dorm.

Dean and Seamus were already there, covering the walls with posters and photos. Harry's trunk was sitting next to his four-poster bed, and Ron was rummaging through his trunk at the bed next to it.

"Hey there, Harry, good summer?" Dean asked, looking over as he entered the room.

"Interesting," he replied, deciding not to go into everything that happened over the course of the last few months, given all that they included that was secret, besides. Dean and Seamus didn't need to know all of that. "You?"

"Yeah, it was alright," Dean said, smoothing out his West Ham poster. "Better than Seamus's anyways, he was telling me and Ron about it."

"Why, what happened?" He looked over at his Irish classmate. Seamus didn't immediately answer, choosing to make sure his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was straight before replying.

"Me mam didn't want me come back," he said, turning around finally.

"Wait, what?" Harry paused in the act of pulling off his robes and shoes.

"She didn't want me to come back to Hogwarts," Seamus repeated. "Because of you mate."

"She believes the Daily Prophet, doesn't she?" Harry sighed, a feeling of melancholy setting in.

"Aye she does," Seamus said. "We got right in it a couple of times about it, actually. Told her she was being barmy, that you had always been a good bloke and true to your word. She said I was letting my naivety get the better of me about your true nature. Well, I saw red there and demanded she take a good look at who was attacking you in the papers and then at herself for being such a sycophant of that Skeeter woman. Sorry mate."

"You have nothing to apologize for," Harry said glumly. "Thanks for sticking up to you mum for me though. She didn't happen to change her mind?"

"Nah, sorry Harry," Seamus said. "She's quite a stubborn lady, it will take You-Know-Who making a scene in the street to convince her, I imagine."

"What about your parents?" Harry asked Dean.

"My mum is a Muggle," Dean answered with a shrug. "She doesn't read the Prophet, and I wasn't about to make her worry about some possible killer being on the loose. Seamus and I both trust you, and Dumbledore of course. If you say he's back, then he's back."

"Thanks," Harry sighed. He finally finished getting changed, and then lay back on his pillows. One by one, everyone else had gone to bed. Neville had arrived while they were changing and had immediately fallen asleep, but Harry couldn't find sleep yet. He had to wonder how many whispering students thought like Mrs. Finnegan…. How many parents believed the attacks on Dumbledore and Harry? He had to wonder just how many attacks he was going to face from his fellow students. In the end, he knew he would be proven right, but it was a question of just how painful the in-between time would take. Harry closed his eyes, trying to find some peace of mind in his dreams.

Even as Harry tried to find sleep, the same could not be said for Daphne Greengrass. She was standing at the window of her dorm, looking out into the slowly swirling water of the Black Lake. Like many of those who lived in the dungeons, she normally found the sound soothing. It helped calm her mind. Tonight it carried more weight. Hanging above the window, the sigil of the house hung- a stark reminder of what was about to occur.

"Are you sure about this, Daph?" Tracey Davis asked from her place behind the draperies of her four-poster bed. Daphne gave a nervous smile as her best friend asked what she had been wondering herself. Tracey had always been the more outgoing of the pair, and that was certainly helped by the looks that went with her personality and intelligence. Dark brown hair, bright hazel eyes, pale flawless skin, and a curvier body were a dangerous combination. "I mean, there's no going back after tonight."

I'm sure Trace," Daphne said, watching a school of grindylows swim past, a mermaid chasing after them. The mermaid stopped for a moment to sign a greeting through the window, which Daphne returned almost absentmindedly. "Astoria and I made our allegiances clear during the train ride last term."

"Then Blaise and I are with you," Tracey replied. "We've been friends since we were little, only makes sense to stick together now."

Daphne nodded, turning to give her best friend a smile.

"They'll be starting soon, I should go take my place," Daphne said. "Come on."

As the two fifth years ascended the stairs toward the common room, Daphne had to admit to herself that she was a little nervous. The lacewing flies fluttered about in her belly, and her hands almost shook with anticipation. Something she had learned from her Gryffindor friends, however, was that acting through your fear was the mark of true bravery and conviction. She was going to need that conviction, she thought, as they emerged from below and into the common room itself.

Having seen the Gryffindor common room, she could certainly say she preferred their accommodations. In contrast to the warm and cozy tower room with its plush armchairs and blazing fire, the Slytherin common room had been built to be elegant, yet cold. Emerald tapestries hung from the rough stone walls, displaying the actions of famous or infamous Slytherins, depending on one's point of view. The green-shaded lamps that hung from the ceiling illuminated the room, and a fire did light their intricately carved mantle. However, the soothing green shades had the unfortunate side effect of draining much of the color from the room, and even the fire's glow was diminished by the vast glass panels along one wall which all but opened their common room onto the lake.

The grand mantle was carved into the shape of two serpents, coiling up each side before stretching across the top to form a shelf. The display made an excellent meeting place, as it was the focus of the room. Tonight, a circle of high-backed chairs had been arranged before it, their silver and green velvet cushions shimmering the dim light. Directly before the fire, facing out into the rest of the room, a much more elegant chair had taken the place of the leather couches that typically sat there. The other furniture had been temporarily moved away to allow the entire house to assemble in the room.

Daphne made her way through the quietly assembling crowd of Slytherins. Tracey lingered behind, joining the crowd to stand with Blaise, while the blonde took her in the circle. As the first symbolic gesture for the evening, she took the place directly opposite the larger chair, placing the rest of the house at her back. Upon her arrival, many of the others exchanged glances or whispers. She stoically hid a smirk; word of her shifting allegiances had spread.

When the last of the Slytherins had trickled in, specifically a few first years who had to be reminded of the gathering, two of the seventh years stepped forward, one on either side of the mantle. "We hereby call this assembly to order," they said as one. Any remaining chatter immediately fell into silence.

Warrington, to the left of the mantle, gestured to the circle of chairs. "Welcome to our assembled Nobility. Seventh years, Prefects, please take your seats." Daphne took her seat then, as did the others in the circle as well, leaving four chairs empty- two to the left of the mantle, one to the right, and the center chair itself. She had to choke back a snort. On one hand, the idea of calling their upperclassmen "nobility" was outdated and pompous. On the other, Warrington grunted more than he spoke, and she was sure that if this greeting were not the same at every session, he would never have strung two words together so eloquently.

"Welcome to the assembled House, and especially to those youngest among us. Please take your ease." The second speaker, the other seventh year beside the fire, was Rachel Avery. She, at least, had the grace and training of any well-bred Slytherin woman. There was a quick scramble as the rest of the students hurried to claim a seat on the remaining chairs and couches. Those who didn't act quickly enough were forced to stand. When at last stillness reigned once more, all eyes returned to the front of the room.

"To those of you for whom this is your first gathering," Rachel continued, "allow me to explain. Since the time of our Lord Slytherin himself, this house has functioned on one primary principle: loyalty to our brothers and sisters in the face of adversity. We are not, however, simple Hufflepuffs. We do not cast our loyalty about to anyone. We use our intelligence and our cunning, our wits and our logic, to determine those among us who are worthy of allegiance. By right of their superior schooling and appointed status, those of the Nobility have demonstrated their worthiness. As general House, you owe them your allegiance. You will remain loyal to them and serve them appropriately, as they are here to guide and, in turn, serve you.

"Furthermore, as our House unites under our Nobility, so must our Nobility unite for the benefit of our House. We cannot present a divided front to those who would oppose us. In the time of our origins, all Slytherins pledged loyalty to Lord Slytherin directly. However, following his departure from the school, a Prince or Princess has been elected in his stead from among the members of Nobility. Originally, this was done by Salazar himself. Today, we must use his criteria as best we can." She gestured for Warrington to step forward.

"By right of his presence in the Nobility, his elevation to status as Prefect, his influence in society, and his ancient and pure family name, our new Prince has been appointed." The hulking seventh year clearly struggled more with this portion. If Daphne had to guess, Rachel had probably written it and forced him to memorize it only recently. As he paused, the entire gathering seemed to hold its breath. "In accordance with our ancient and tested traditions, I present to the noble House of Slytherin and the Nobility of the Court of Salazar your new Prince: Draco Malfoy."

Daphne ground her teeth as polite, or enthusiastic, applause rang out. Though she had anticipated, in fact counted on, this arrangement, hearing his name and watching the smug smirk on his face made her terribly angry. His white-blonde hair and stupid ferret face shown in the firelight as he stepped into view from the shadows beside the mantle. With the grace of training and the smugness of a spoiled child, he slid into the throne.

"The Prince must now appoint a 'right hand' to sit upon the council and be the voice of the general House," Rachel declared as the applause quieted.

"For her loyalty to myself and to Slytherin House, and her position as my confidant," Malfoy drawled, "I appoint Pansy Parkinson from the general House."

Pansy flounced up to her place at Draco's right with about the humility of a peacock. Though once again expected, Daphne now found herself choking down curses. With the final dedicated business taken care of, Warrington took his place to Draco's left, leaving Rachel to the last empty chair on Pansy's right. Malfoy raised one hand, bringing quiet to his "subjects."

"My friends, I receive this honor with great humility," he began. "In these new and difficult times ahead, we must strive to be united. For too long now, the very foundations of Slytherin House have been under assault. That which we place such importance on must be protected. Our traditions must be upheld. Our loyalty must be un-tested. We can only do that if the entire House stands against those who seek to ridicule and belittle us."

He paused to allow the crowd to applaud, his eyes landing on Daphne as he spoke next.

"In this noble fight, betrayal of our House's traditions will be met with the most extreme consequences. We of the Noble House of Slytherin have stood strong for near a thousand years, and we must continue to be stalwart against the corrosive forces of the lesser Houses in this school. A crack in this barrier, this mighty wall, will be seen as an attack on the House itself and will be met with the same consequences as those who have betrayed our traditions."

Daphne stared right back at Draco, her gaze unflinching as Draco kept his eyes on her. The message was loud and clear, blunt even. Continue as you are, and you will be destroyed.

"However, your new Prince is not without mercy," Malfoy continued, holding out an open hand in both a symbolic gesture and directly to Daphne. "If those who have strayed from our path can repent and see the error of their ways, they will be welcomed back into the fold with open arms. There would be no retribution for past actions or words, only forgiveness for the sake of increasing the power of this House and restoring its full loyalty."

The once applauding crowd now hissed with whispers. Daphne could feel the eyes on her as Draco made his offer. Odd, she thought, that the Slytherins were paying such close attention to the two newest Slytherin prefects. Even the older students who did sit among the Nobility were watching closely, wondering how this would play out. The house was waiting for the next move between her and Draco. She would not disappoint.

There was gasp as Daphne stood up, gracefully rising from her chair. She remembered the lessons her father had given his girls: confidence could be conveyed more in gesture than in words, for words would always be picked apart. She hid the fluttering of her stomach with the sway of her walk, holding herself as though she owned the room, as though it were her in that chair and not Malfoy. She slowly made her way to the center of the circle, her eyes still on the Prince's as an expression of delight appeared on his face.

"Daphne Greengrass, do you come before your Prince to repent of your association with Harry Potter and other enemies of this House?" Draco asked. Behind her, the whispers intensified. It was worse than the Great Hall when gossip flew. She lifted her chin just a fraction of an inch. When she spoke, her words rang with strength and clarity, calling silence once more.

"A thousand years ago, Hogwarts was founded by four great witches and wizards," Daphne began. She broke eye contact with Malfoy and proceeded to slowly pace around the circle. "Though united amongst themselves, each favored a particular kind of student. At the time, Slytherin chose the traits of cunning, ambition, resourcefulness, self-preservation, and, most of all, loyalty to himself and his beliefs. His students, to honor their teacher, created the Court of Salazar and Slytherin himself chose the first Prince of our House, creating a position that any Slytherin of any year could strive for."

"We know all of this," Draco interrupted snidely. "How is this relevant?"

"I'm getting there, Draco," Daphne replied calmly, though her eyes snapped with fire. "Each of these traits were chosen and elevated for a reason. In a time when witchcraft was persecuted by muggles, loyalty and cunning were required to ensure that we could help one another out of trouble, should it arise. Those with ambition and resourcefulness aimed to better our community and our lives, preserving our legacy despite the attacks from without. Self-preservation meant not so much the abandonment of our friends and allies, those to whom we had pledged our loyalty, but rather the ability to cut ourselves free and continue on independently when their loyalties failed us."

At this, the blonde prefect glared around at the Nobility before shifting her gaze and her focus to the members of the House. All eyes seemed locked on her, drinking in her every word. Tracey winked at her from across the room, and Astoria gave her sister a discreet thumbs-up. Taking a breath, Daphne prepared herself for the next step.

"Even his requirement for limiting muggle-born access to our House and our school had a purpose. Though today blood purity may be a matter of social status, at the time it was a matter of self-defense. When their family and friends persecuted witches and wizards, who was the say that any muggleborn would not bring that influence to Hogwarts and destroy us from the inside out? Might this not be especially true of muggleborns who embodied the Slytherin traits? Cunning and our need to be loyal to one another would integrate them into our midst, yet their loyalties all the while would remain opposed. Thus, Salazar required that his students come from magical parents.

"At first, the system worked well. A Slytherin had to demonstrate the chosen traits to take their place among the nobility. With Lord Slytherin at our helm, we provided a united front against those who hunted us. However, things were not meant to remain this way. Slytherin's loyalty to the school and to the other founders remained strong. He sought to protect them and his students from the muggle threat. It was the loyalty of the others – first Gryffindor, then Ravenclaw, and finally loving Hufflepuff – that strayed. Self-preservation took on new importance, and Slytherin was forced to leave the school. Once the split between the founders occurred, something changed within us. We, as students of the House, embodied the position of our founder, isolating ourselves from the rest of the school in our stances. We dedicated our loyalty solely to those of our own house, no longer those who had earned our respect and companionship. When Slytherin appointed a Prince, we followed him because it was what we were expected to do. Blood purity became the overriding factor for our House. We strove to show the superiority of purebloods over any students who were half-bloods or muggleborns. The Prince or Princess became harsher, more controlling as they sought to impose these views. It became a title that was passed down now, not one where anyone could aspire to it, passed on to the next powerful family that espoused blood superiority."

Her words were having an effect, she could see it. Many were glares, but she could see some thoughtful looks. She turned to gaze accusingly at the current Prince. "Even now, we have forgotten that Slytherin himself respected the opinions of his students and would ask their opinions before an appointment occurred. There is no longer any voting in this matter."

Letting this sink in, especially for the younger students, she paused. She counted a handful of seconds, just enough for effect, and then continued. "Twice, in our history, has someone attempted to stop this cycle… to return to our older ways before the schism in this school occurred. The goal was to possibly start mending the rift that exists between ourselves and the other houses, so Slytherin students might stand united with the school, not just among ourselves. Twice, those rebellions were put down by the Prince in power, between pressure here in school and outside by the families of those involved."

Daphne turned her full attention to Draco. His eyes narrowed at her.

"You asked, Draco, if I would repent my association with Harry Potter and my other friends not among those assembled here, and my answer is the same as the one I gave you on the train last term," she said. Once again she stood at the center of the circle, her back to the House, facing Malfoy defiantly. There was murmuring as she spoke. Draco was livid, his face twisting up in rage as he all but leapt to his feet.

"I can't imagine why you would associate yourself with such filth," he hissed. "You betray your House and your peers by mixing with Mudbloods and Mudblood lovers. Do you want to be marked as a blood traitor for the rest of your life?"

Daphne gave a derisive laugh, designed only with the purpose of further infuriating Malfoy.

"Draco, there is no law that says I cannot make friends elsewhere," Daphne said. "My loyalty lies with those who have proven themselves worthy. I have chosen those who support me, who teach me, who trust me, and whom I trust in return. I use my cunning to integrate myself with those who are beloved by the school and the wizarding world at large. My sense of self-preservation leads me to forge alliances apart from those that are chosen for me, because my own house has forgotten its original purpose. My ambition is to restore Slytherin's House, Nobility, and Prince to their original status and glory, and to do so I've applied resourcefulness in seeking out those with power and connections. In what way have I betrayed the ideals of my house? We betray ourselves by isolating ourselves from the rest of the school."

"What of the Mudblood?" Pansy snapped.

Daphne shrugged nonchalantly. "What of her? As I said, Slytherin's reasons for rejecting muggleborns were not because they were lacking in skill or status. Rather, he sought to protect us from those who discriminated against a minority and persecuted us for our differences. Were he alive today, what would Slytherin think of the way we treat them? Would he not be ashamed?"

"You are confused and delusional, Greengrass, after all the time you spend with them. Our House and our Nobility agree, as they always have. Mudbloods and blood traitors poison our school. They are the reason why our house is hated," Malfoy growled. "And they get away with it because the other houses have always hated us, Potter and his friends especially!"

Most of the house reacted positively towards that last statement, but not everyone. The Greengrass sisters had been busy after all. As angry cries of affirmation rang out from the assembled House, Daphne sifted through them, judging conviction and expression. Those she and Astoria had been working on in the past year looked troubled. Others had clearly been affected by her speech and looked distracted or thoughtful. The court members seemed to be in agreement with the majority, but Daphne caught two of them for the briefest moment looking thoughtful. She would log that away for later.

"Can we prove any of that?" Daphne asked, casting her gaze around her fellow classmates before going back to Draco. "Those are not a legitimate reasons to hate someone, especially when we act no better towards them. If we want to say we are superior, then we certainly have not acted as such. The rest of the school hates Slytherin house in turn, and why? We give them no reason to think on us fondly."

"And why should we care about what they think of us?" Draco asked.

"Why should we… that was rather silly to ask," Daphne said, giving another derisive laugh. "Come on, Draco. You're supposed to be intelligent. Why do you think it matters? I'll answer for you. Not a single employer is going to care about what house we were in while in school. Instead, they'll want to hear about your accomplishments and will judge your personality. Not a single witch or wizard is going to ask what house were you in or what your blood purity is. Well, I suppose, besides any Death Eaters one might encounter."

"You condemn yourself then!" Draco shouted. "The Dark–"

"Were you about to say that Voldemort is going to kill me and my family, Draco?" Daphne asked, cutting across him and ignoring the exclamation of shock and surprise at the name being uttered. "Does that mean you believe Dumbledore and Harry?"

"I would never stand with them!" he exclaimed. "You're putting words in my mouth."

"Then tell me, how exactly am I condemning myself?" Daphne asked. "You can't fight your own battles, Draco. You scurry off to daddy or send your pet gorillas to do your dirty work. That's the worst exampled of self-preservation I've ever seen. Well I can tell you right now, my family isn't intimidated by yours, and I have rather powerful friends of my own. Unlike others before me, I realized something important. You can't challenge the system unless you have people who are loyal to you, and to whom you can be loyal in return."

Draco's eyes widened and sparked with fury as he realized exactly what Daphne was saying and implying.

When she next spoke, her hushed, yet vicious tone brought silence to the rest of the room. Though near whispers, her words carried clear from the mantle to the very back row. "I formally issue a challenge to Draco Malfoy for the right to be titled Prince of Slytherin," Daphne intoned. "In accordance with the traditions he has vaunted so loftily, we each have the rest of the year to cultivate allies and strike at each other's power bases until either the Court of Salazar decides who has won by a majority… or one gives up their claim."

"Then I'll crush you, blood traitor!" Draco snarled over the sudden outcry from the House and Nobility.

Daphne gave him a patronizing grin. "Oh, Draco. You can certainly try." She turned to leave the circle, but paused just before passing the ring of chairs. "I leave this last question for the House and our Nobility, however. How many of you lost childhood friends because of people like Draco forcing us to associate only with ourselves?"

She started to walk away, the crowd parting to let her through. There were mixed expressions all around, some of disgust, some full of thought. Though they let her pass, many of her housemates sent her glares or spat curses. Daphne sighed, feeling a bit of tension leave her. The seeds had been planted, but it would be an uphill climb for her. Draco still held the majority, but–

"Stupefy!"

Daphne didn't even turn to address Draco's shouted spell. Her shadow rose up to consume the jet of red light on its own accord. Cries of surprise and outrage met her ears, but Daphne kept walking. A wicked grin slowly formed on her lips. Blunt, too blunt. Astoria and Tracey followed her back to the dorms, she knew it was going to be a difficult year.

Astoria eyed her sister's determined posture as they left the crowds behind. Once out of earshot, she muttered. "And we must unite beside her, or we'll crumble from within. I have told you, I have warned you… let the civil war begin."