Pansy was not smug. She was, in fact, not at all impressed. Harry felt her eyes on him almost as soon as he and Draco stepped into the Great Hall. Draco must have felt it, too – or maybe it was the stares of all the students trickling in, because he dropped Harry's hand almost immediately. When Harry cast a sharp look at him, he was staring straight ahead.
It was hard to ignore the stares, the whispers of Death Eater that floated around the hall, especially as they passed the Gryffindor table. When they reached the eighth years' table, Pansy's face had softened. She and Blaise had left two seats open between them. Harry slid in beside Pansy while Draco sat on his other side, beside Blaise, who engaged him in conversation almost immediately.
Harry made it through a whole two seconds of trying not to look at Pansy before she cracked first.
"We had planning to do, Potter," she hissed at him. "And you had to go and disappear to shag Draco instead and leave me to do it all on my own."
"I wasn't really…" Harry started, but trailed off at the look Pansy gave him. "I'm sorry, Pans," he said with a sigh, finally.
His chest felt tight, and he almost wanted to cry, but couldn't place the exact reason. Because Pansy was upset with him? That wasn't it, not exactly. It was as though the sounds of the dining hall had amplified around him, too – and they were different, this year. The chatter was subdued, voices tinged with worry and fear. Harry felt it in the core of himself. My fault, he couldn't help but think. It was his fault.
"It's alright, you daft idiot," Pansy said from his side. Her voice sounded far away – it was the feeling that was becoming familiar to Harry, since coming back to Hogwarts. As if everyone was on the other side of a long tunnel, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn't quite get back.
Before he could say anything else, before he could pull himself back or force himself back into the world, McGonagall was standing at the dais. Draco's hand had made it's way to his knee under the table; it grounded him a little bit. He could even feel Ron and Hermione casting him worried looks from their spot with the Gryffindors on the other side of the table. He let out a slow breath as McGonagall began speaking.
"Today is a day to rejoice," she began clearly. Any remaining speaking in the hall had stopped. "For those of us who have come back to the castle, who are still able to find refuge in this place."
She waited a breath. Harry could feel the air in the Great Hall tremble, on the precipice of great relief and sadness. It was a physical feeling, the air around him was literally vibrating, as if straining to hold back the emotion. Was this a product of death, being able to feel the emotions so keenly?
Or was that him, straining against his own emotions?
"Today is also a day for grief," the Headmistress continued, finally. "As we mourn for those who cannot be here with us, for those who will not be waiting for us at home, for those who's memories still exist in our hearts.
"Every single person in this room lost someone – whether it was a parent, a sibling, or a friend. Every single student in this room lost part of their childhood to He Who Must Not be Named. Many of you," she nodded towards the Slytherin table as she spoke, "lost your faith in Hogwarts, and the people here who should have protected you."
Ron and Hermione's eyes were on him again, Harry could feel it. This time, they didn't look away when he looked up. Hermione gave him a small smile, even from the distance across the table he could see her eyes glistening. Ron nodded, his arm firmly around Hermione's shoulders, and even Neville gave him a funny look. Harry was hit with a feeling of wrongness – Neville could have been him, could have been the one targeted by Voldemort, the one who had to die. It could have always been like this, Harry in Slytherin with Draco and Pansy and Blaise, and Neville tromping around the castle and getting into trouble with Ron and Hermione. It felt wrong and yet – he couldn't help but wish.
"Before the First Years enter for their sorting, I would like everyone to observe a moment of silence in remembrance of the lives that were lost here and around Britain last year, muggle and magical alike." The Headmistress' voice was hard, as if daring anyone to argue. No one did, though. Everyone was silent, even the Slytherins.
It took Harry a moment before he realized what thought had crossed his mind, and he mentally kicked himself. As if the Slytherin's hadn't suffered, or lost anyone to the war. As if they all hated muggles. Of course they would observe a moment of silence.
This silence was less oppressive than when McGonagall was speaking. Harry felt himself come back to slowly. He was holding Pansy's hand, he realized. She was dry-eyed, but looked suddenly exhausted, as if the world were too much. Draco's hand was still on his knee –the other boy was looking straight down at his plate. Harry leaned into him cautiously, feeling gratified when Draco leaned back. He couldn't see Blaise, on Draco's other side, except for the arm that extended around Draco's shoulder.
Harry let his eyes wander around the room – belatedly realizing that Andromeda was supposed to be here with Teddy. He felt panic clutch his chest, briefly, when he didn't seem them immediately. He had been late to the start of the Feast, albeit only slightly – what if they had decided not to come and he hadn't even noticed. Draco must have realized his panic, because he squeezed Harry's knee and nodded towards the staff table. Sure enough, Andy was seated near the end, beside Professor Sinstra, with baby Teddy in her arms.
"Thank you," said McGonagall, startling him out of his reverie. He had forgotten, for a moment, that it was supposed to be a moment of silence. Had assumed the world had dampened in his mind, as it often did. She said something else that he didn't catch, but the hall began bustling again as the first years were led in by Professor Vector.
"Harry," the familiar voice sounded behind him before he even had the chance to see if she had made her way down from the table. He turned in his seat, accidentally knocking Draco's hand off his knee as he turned.
Before Harry could say anything, he was engulfed in Andromeda's arms. It felt like home, as it did every time, but the homesickness hit him this time like it hadn't before – perhaps because of his nightmare the previous night, or because of how he had been feeling all day. He let himself cling on tightly for a moment before pulling away.
"I have to sneak back up to the table," Andromeda said as she turned to engulf Draco in a similar hug. "I thought you might like to mind Teddy for the meal, though."
It was a two part request, Harry knew. The first part was the offer, because of course he wanted to spend a meal with Teddy and of course Andromeda knew that. The second part, though, was more upsetting. After all, it wasn't as though Andy had wanted to become a parent to her grandson. And with Harry gone…he tried not to feel guilty, because of course he should have come back to Hogwarts, but he did. If only he could have delayed a couple years, waited until Teddy was older, and then come back; it would be easier on Andy to care for an older child. It could have been possible, too, if he were anyone other than, well, the Saviour of the Wizarding World.
"Of course," Harry said warmly to Andromeda instead. She handed him over and with a small squeeze of Harry's shoulder she was off to the High Table. The timing was good – just as she left, the sorting hat was sat upon its stool by Professor McGonagall. Harry shifted Teddy in his arms so he could lean against Draco as the hat began its song.
Oh I have lived through history
And thought I'd seen it all
Wars and droughts and famines
All these I can recall.
But I've seen no horror worse
Than this past year of crime
And if I had my way there'd be
No sorting this years' time.
Though I regret to sort you
Tradition stays upheld
If you won't heed this wisdom
The damage won't be quelled
So listen to my story
Of the Founders four
Who were strongest when to each other
Their loyalties were swore.
Brave Gryffindor, he knew
He was the strongest of the lot
When there was suffering and fear
It was for his friends he fought.
The one who thought most clearly
Was young, smart Ravenclaw
When the founders four were hurting
Answers for the pain, she saw.
Hufflepuff was always there
With kind words of strength and hope.
The others looked to her for love
When they could no longer cope.
And then there was good Slytherin
The man with all the answers.
Through the barriers they faced,
He navigated like a dancer.
Each founder had their strengths
That the others relied upon.
Divided they were nothing
But united they kept on.
So, when I sort you, please
Heed the words I speak
For only when united
Will Hogwarts feel less bleak.
Please sit down here
And try me on your head
And when I divide you –
Find strength in your differences instead.
"That was…" Pansy trailed off with a grimace.
"A thinly veiled threat, almost," Blaise filled in for her. "Unless you all love each other very much," he said in mimicry of the hat's voice, "You will all die cold and alone."
Draco snorted, and soon the four of them were all laughing, much to the horror of those seated around them. They probably looked mad, Harry thought, snickering on like idiots after such a dark warning.
Harry shifted in his seat as the Professor Vector called out the name of the first student, opting to lean more heavily against Draco. Pansy was leaning over him, cooing over Teddy as if there wasn't even a sorting going on at all. And to be fair to her – Harry wasn't interested, particularly, in the sorting. Another year, more students divided into houses, more rivalries formed – the same as it always was. No, he was much more content to sit here, bent over his godson instead, leaning against his – well, not boyfriend really, just Draco. His Draco
The sorting passed quickly – there were fewer students this year than any other year. Blaise, who had actually been watching the sorting, pointed out that Gryffindor hadn't even been given a single new student, while somehow Slytherin had half the incoming first years.
"More for us to keep in line of course," Pansy grumbled. Harry shook his head slightly at her – despite her words, she seemed gratified that they had so many students. He was…possibly a little bit excited at the prospect as well. After all, the first step to opening a proper school would be learning how to interact with children.
Food had appeared on their plates as the sorting finished. Harry picked at it, more focussed on Teddy than anything. He let the conversation of the Slytehrins ebb around him, content to just sit and not think for a moment.
It took him a few minutes to realize Pansy was trying to get his attention.
"Honestly, Potter, it's like you end up in a different world," she said. He shrugged, but could feel Draco snickering against his back. Perhaps in the Days After he was a little bit…fuzzy – but it wasn't him, really, it was the world. The world was fuzzy; too fast and too slow and too hard and too soft and hurt too much and didn't feel like anything at all and Harry didn't know what to do with it. He had the strong urge to look up, towards Ron and Hermione, but forced it down. Now was not the time.
"Sorry," he chose to say, instead. "I'm listening now."
"I have a plan for how we should talk to the Slytherins tonight," she said. She pursed her lips and reached around to whack Draco on the back. Harry couldn't see what he had been doing, since he was currently leaning against the other boy, but presumably what he wasn't doing was paying attention to Pansy.
"This involves you, too, you twat," she said sharply. "I can't do this with just Potter, he's useless!"
"Oi," Harry said, although it was mostly false indignance. He was fairly certain he'd be rather useless, at least at first. Even if the Sorting Hat had almost put him in Slytherin, that didn't mean he knew how to interact with them. Especially small Slytherins who had no reason to trust him.
Pansy relayed the plan quickly and efficiently – Harry's only role was "Look friendly but don't talk, for Merlin's sake, or you'll scare them away, Potter," which he couldn't really argue with. He spent the rest of the feast trying not to agonize about how the Slytherins would probably hate him and it would ruin his desire to open a school before he could even start his career.
He was shaken out of his spiralling thought process by McGonagall stepping up to the podium. Teddy had fallen asleep in his arms at some point during dinner and Harry bundled him close, reluctant to acknowledge that he'd have to let the boy go soon. Perhaps tomorrow he could speak to the Headmistress about spending some weekends at home with Teddy. Draco seemed to realize his distress, or maybe it was just good timing – he shifted on the bench so that Harry was leaning against his chest, rather than his side. Harry let himself relax into Draco as McGonagall began speaking.
"Welcome, and welcome back to Hogwarts," she began. "I have a few brief announcements before I can let you go for the evening." She smiled down at the eighth year table for a moment. "You'll notice a new set up in the Dining Hall, the table at the front is here to house the school's eighth year students, who have come back to complete their schooling. You will see many of them in your classes, working to assist your teachers and provide extra help.
"You will also become familiar with some of the eighth years as your House Guardians (?). You will meet them tonight in your common rooms, and in just a few moments they will also be responsible for showing the first years the way to their dormitories. You are expected to treat the House Guardians as prefects; they are able to award and remove points, even from Prefects."
McGonagall paused for a moment, and Harry felt the weight of it – it was a pause that held the weight of a war; perhaps the weight of two wars, the weight of the pain endured by everyone who was present here, and everyone who wasn't present in the world any longer.
Finally, she spoke again. "In an effort to have everyone graduate within the usual seven years, classes will run on an accelerated basis to cover the work that was missed last year and the work that is required for the current year. For those in fifth and seventh years, your heads of house will be speaking to you about the option of a slower rate of study that would have you stay at Hogwarts over the summer and take your OWLs or NEWTs in the fall instead of at the end of this academic year. You are welcome to take the longer courses or the accelerated option, we will make any accommodations necessary. As well, the eighth years will be available as tutors to students who should need it. Your professors will speak to you more about this in your classes.
"Finally, Mr Filch has asked me to remind you that the Forbidden Forest is strictly off limits, and that all students should review the list of banned items posted in his office."
She paused again, a small smile on her face this time. It almost, almost, felt like home to Harry, especially with Teddy wrapped up in his arms.
"Lastly, I would like to introduce everyone to our new staff this year. Professor Slughorn has unfortunately decided to retire, so we will be welcoming a new potions professor – Professor Stone has been hired to fill his post." A friendly looking woman in earth-green robes stood to wave to the students. She seemed fairly young, although looking across the high table it seemed as though there were quite a few young professors this year.
"To fill the Muggle Studies post, we have Professor Strickland." A lady in muggle clothes stood up and waved to the crowd. A rush of mutters went around the room, including from Pansy, who nudged him.
"You don't think she's a Squib, do you?" she asked. She didn't seem upset, Harry made sure to note, but she did seem confused. He shrugged in response, but tried to puzzle it out himself. There were other squibs on the staff, of course, like Filch, so it wouldn't be surprising.
"She's not," Draco said suddenly. It seemed like the whole eighth year table had leaned towards him to hear what he had to say around the buzz of the dining hall. They were all avoiding looking at the four of them, though. Harry couldn't help but smirk when Draco lowered his voice so only he, Pansy, and Blaise could hear him talking.
"She's a muggle, I met her over the summer. Didn't realize she'd be teaching though." Harry couldn't see him, but imagined he was looking very smug right now.
"How did you meet her?" Blaise asked from Draco's other side. Harry felt Draco's chest shake with laugher against his back.
"She's married to Professor Stone," he said, just as McGonagall cleared her throat over the din.
"Yes, it's all very exciting," McGonagall said with an almost-Draco-like drawl. It was Harry's turn to laugh. "Moving along, the Defence position will be filled by Professor Cleomenes, who will also be acting as Head of Gryffindor house in my stead."
Predictably, Gryffindor cheered. The man who stood up and waved also seemed quite young, although older than the two other professors that had been introduced. He was rather handsome, too, Harry thought – quite tall, with sandy blonde hair and broad shoulders. He certainly looked like he would be good at defence.
"And on that note," McGonagall said, smiling warmly down at all the students. Harry felt almost eleven years old again. "Please make your way to your common rooms. First years, your House Guardians will meet you at your table and guide you to your Common Room."
She stepped down from the podium as the bustle of hundreds of moving students filled the Hall. Harry sat up slowly, cradling Teddy to his chest. The boy had begun to stir and whimper quietly.
"That's our cue," Pansy sighed. "Remember to try not to make an idiot of yourself." She cast a look at Harry specifically. He just rolled his eyes, He had learned, in the past week, that she got like this when she was nervous – angry and abrasive. Or rather, more angry and abrasive than usual.
"I'll meet you at the Slytherin table," Harry said quietly, shrugging with the baby in his hands. Pansy just nodded curtly and walked away, leaving Draco standing helplessly between them. Harry rolled his eyes. "C'mon," he said to Draco.
After some quick goodbyes with Andromeda and handing off Teddy, Harry wove his way though the remaining students with Draco's hand in his. His nerves had begun to mount. It wasn't so much that he was frightened of first years, but rather nervous about how they would react to him, or if he would even be any good at this.
Draco squeezed his hand gently as they neared a small crowd at the Slytherin table, before letting go. Harry felt the loss immediately, but was mollified when he saw two students run up to Draco. They weren't first years at all – second or third, from the looks of it. His heart bloomed in his chest as he saw Draco bend down to address the two students face-to-face.
In fact, the more he looked, the more he realized that most of Slytherin had not vacated the Great Hall, especially the younger students. They seemed to all be waiting to speak with Pansy or Draco. There were even a couple young Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs waiting, although the absence of any Gryffindor students was notable. Harry felt a little bit out of his element – no, significantly out of his element watching it all unfold.
This was the aftermath, he realized, of a group of children left to fend for themselves. This was the aftermath of having only the older Slytherins left to protect them. The aftermath of the people who were supposed to protect them leaving them to fend for themselves. Harry was sure there was more than just this, too – more than the visible results of experiencing a war in their own school. There would be nightmares and panic, walking through the halls and seeing the ghosts of their friends – the Slytherin students would experience it just as severely as any other students.
As he looked around the Slytherin table, mostly vacant as students piled around Pansy and Draco, Harry noticed a group of what was definitely first years all sitting closely together, about ten of them, it seemed. With a nervous glance at Pansy, who was still engrossed with the students surrounding her, he made his way over.
The students began to whisper as he approached them, with all the subtlety that eleven-year-olds possessed. He heard his name whispered and had to fight back a wince. They were children, he couldn't blame them for the hero worship that he so desperately hated. Even if he did desperately hate it.
Before he could say anything, a girl's voice spoke up. "Are you Harry Potter?"
It took him a moment to locate her. She was the smallest of the bunch, tucked in near the back of the huddle. She looked less nervous than the others, though – more self-assured. She stood up from the bench, too, as he neared, and flipped long, black hair out of her face. In a way, she reminded him of a young Hermione.
"I am Harry Potter," he said. A wave of shock went through the group – he did his best to tactfully ignore it. "What's your name?"
"Maribel," she responded, "but I hate it."
He did his best not to laugh, but really – it was hard. "Okay, do you have a nickname or a different name I can call you?"
She wrinkled her nose at him. "No, my name is Maribel, so that's what you call me."
"We could call you Mari," piped up another boy.
"I hate that worse," Maribel responded primly. Harry couldn't help a smile this time, at least.
"Why don't we call you Mar?" he asked. "I think it suits you."
She paused a moment, as if to consider. She was tapping her fingers rapidly against her leg as she thought, and it made Harry's chest feel tight – as though he should be running or moving or doing something. But why was he reacting like that?
"I like it," she said finally, snapping him out of his moment of concern. "I'll be Mar, then."
"Okay, Mar," Harry said. He gave her his best interpretation of a friendly smile. The whole group of children looked less scared now, more eager to be here, as if her words and confidence had broken whatever emotions were keeping them scared or subdued.
"Are you all excited to finally be at Howgwarts?" he asked after a moments silence.
It seemed to bring the nerves back in the group – they all shifted uncomfortably for a moment. The boy who suggested the name Mari piped up again, looking distinctly more nervous this time. "I heard it's in the dungeons," he said, quietly.
"I heard it's under the lake, and it's always dark," said another girl nearer to the front of the group.
"I like water," Mar said. "Can you see the water from the common room?"
"You can," came a voice from behind him – Pansy's voice. Draco had come with her, and he pressed the back of his hand against the back of Harry's hand when they approached.
"It's not dark," Draco added. "The lake makes it seem sort of green. Sometimes you can see the Giant Squid through the windows. There's always lots of fish that you can see, and your dorms have enchanted windows so it looks like you're looking outside."
Harry glanced over – Draco was smiling down at the first years, looking as gentle as Harry had ever seen him, like was around Teddy, maybe, but with less of the discomfort of being around a baby. The first year students seemed enraptured by Draco's words, they were all gazing up at him almost adoringly. Harry was fairly confident that if anyone was going to be getting any hero-worship from the Slytherins it was going to be Draco, not him.
"It's a little bit drafty," Draco continued. "But we'll teach you some warming charms. There's always a fire on in the fireplace, too, and the older students will conjure you flames that you can carry around if you ask."
"Can we stop talking about it and go see it already?" Mar asked abruptly. Her fingers were tapping again, Harry noticed. He should ask McGonagall about that – it seemed a little bit strange.
"We can," said Pansy. Together, the three of them led the first years out of the Great Hall and towards the dungeons. It felt good and right and – it felt to Harry like he was truly, completely at home.