Unless you haven't guessed already Supernatural timing goes to hell in this fic- shit happens whenever I want to fit it in.
December passes slowly.
With no imminent danger and his aunt no longer showing up in his dreams there's nothing for Harry to do except schoolwork. I mean he's not complaining in the fashion that some of his classmates might but he's so bored.
Yes- the teachers have been giving him more advanced work and yes, he is actually finding it challenging and entertaining but there's something missing without the quest to find the magical stone or the forbiddeness of his dubiously sane godfather.
So he's bored until he and Sirius (who had in fact only been back in England for about a week by this point and had mostly come back just to bring Harry to America and sort out some bits around his house (the man had been beyond surprised to see the place spotless and free of the most harmful dark objects)) take the portkey back home.
Christmas takes away his boredom privileges as he accompanies various people to various places to buy various presents and recounts some of his less secret adventures to Claire. In response she drills him on defence protocols from his lessons and even manages to escape from Jodi's surveillance for long enough to teach him a little more about fighting. He suspects Sirius' help in evading notice when he feels the wash of a concealment spell over him. Claire doesn't notice and knocks him over in his brief distraction.
Sirius gets along well with his uncles. Unsurprisingly he gets on best with Dean, having smuggled in a good amount of Firewhisky for the holidays. Once again the girls somehow end up drinking it and Jodi promises to drain every drop down her sink when she finds it. She doesn't find it but judging by the three men's massive hangovers the next day she can make an educated guess as to where it went. Castiel is completely fine.
Then finally the wait is over and it's January- Sam, Dean and Sirius are drunk again- and then Harry is back at school.
And so is Draco.
The boy seems haunted by his family's passing. He enters the hall for breakfast without insulting Harry or any Gryffindor and walks in silence to his house table where he sits, still silent, and begins to delicately place food on his plate. His fellow slytherins, whether they sit before him or after, keep the silence too, none excitedly talking about new broomsticks or crowing at some joke.
Nobody asks any questions. Nobody laughs at him. Nobody points or stares.
Only those closest to him notice the tremble in his hands and only Harry (among the students) notices the way his magic has sharpened around him, trapped against his skin like roiling thunder. He eats and gradually all the other tables stop looking at him. It would be days before they stop whispering whenever they see him.
Harry watches him closely as he goes through his first day of lessons despite not being in them. From one of the few remaining non-zombie ravenclaws he hears of the boy calmly catching a batch of puffappod beans dropped by one of his unfocused classmates.
"- I swear he didn't even say anything. He just moved his wand and they all floated into the air and back into their special holding case!"
From Charms he gathers his report from some not-so-sneaky slytherins.
"His severing spell was the most accurate thing I've ever seen- he didn't even say the word, did he? Do you think he's okay?" The girl was hushed rather quickly by her companion scoffing and hissing at her to be quiet.
Some other slytherins' comments on his Defence lesson solidify his impression on Draco's change of aura.
"Do you know where Draco disappeared to after his smokescreen spell?"
"No- I couldn't see anything until someone opened all the windows."
"He didn't want to do it at first though- what changed his mind?" They are cut off by an older slytherin walking past and stepping on both of the first-year's feet unsubtly.
The other change is the reappearance of his tutor in his dreams.
As soon as he falls asleep he sees her smile and feels her arms wrap around him.
"I've missed you my wee lad." She says contentedly as she sits opposite him in the blank space of his mind with a cup of tea. Her eyes crinkle at the edges as she smiles.
"I've had so much to do- I think I've finally managed to cure my curse with the stone. I can only hope it works." Rowena's eyes close as she finishes speaking, "God I hope it works." Her voice drops into solemnity, something desperate shining through her accent.
"Are you alright, Auntie Rowena?" He asks carefully, knowing how unwilling the woman is to admit to her worries.
The witch smiles nervously.
"Yes- just a little trouble back here recently- I think I'll be okay now though. I've dealt with it for a while." She hides her lips behind her tea cup as she speaks.
"But how about you, Harry dear? Aren't you going to show your Auntie what you've learned in her absence?" Rowena asks.
Harry does and the witch watches his magic move with a smile as he casts reliably each spell and incantation and recreates each potion from his last month of tuition. The show ends with a pyrotechnics show influenced by the flares Quirrell has taught them.
The old witch smiles at the darkness as the lights fade.
"You know sometimes you don't need power to be great." She says softly. Harry shakes his head even though she isn't looking at him.
"No. You don't- sometimes you can just enjoy the fireworks." He says with all the solemnity an eleven-year old can muster.
Rowena leaves him quietly that night and returns back to her pattern of visiting each and every night.
She teaches him little now, preferring to watch his own spin on the new magic he is learning.
Hermione is the only one who doesn't seem nearly as settled after returning from the holidays.
She has reverted back to her apocalypse watch behaviour, peering around corners at zombified students and writing almost constantly when she isn't studying or (presumably) sleeping. The girl has been writing as she eats however. He catches a glimpse of the book at one point but the code in there is too complex to understand with just a glance and Hermione had slammed the book closed, looking at him, wide eyed with purple smears beneath them when she noticed he was there. Neville seems to have become a little more on edge by association, taking up on her offer of training sessions because when your smart, hard-working friend says 'you never know what could happen' followed by nervous laughter and shifty looks at everyone surrounding them you take notice and try and spend more time around them so they don't fall into a coma or anger the wrong people.
Eventually she reveals all to the two boys.
"I've been writing my observations down constantly. Watching. Waiting." She whispers in a far corner of the library, hunched over the book like it's her only hope of survival.
"It's zombies- the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws have been turned into zombies!" The witch says urgently, grip on the book white-knuckled. Neville stares at her in confusion.
"What are zombies?" He asks curiously. Harry assumes that it's a wizard thing to not know about zombies and feels a stone drop into his stomach. Does that mean the wizarding community have been defenceless against zombies this whole time? No- they must have some kind of spell- someone hunting them down? How could the wizards have survived unprotected?
"They are the dead which have been reanimated somehow. They show decreased intelligence and mobility usually." Hermione recites, the lapse into recalling something she's read calming her while she's speaking. Neville frowns worriedly, panic beginning to dawn in his eyes.
"So you mean you think the castle is full of the undead?" He asks. The girl nods, not seeming to hear the incredulity in Neville's voice.
"Yes. It is." She says shortly, "And I think I know where they are being converted." Hermione declares.