Author's Note: This story was written for the Haphne Halloween 2021 Collection organized by the Harry/Daphne Discord server.
Link: discord．gg/pKSdvJQvhU
My thanks to NerdDragonVoid, DeadFish37, Arnie1701, Webstriker, and especially Dorothea Greengrass for their efforts as beta readers.
=======(/\)=======
"Potter… Harry, take a seat." Professor McGonagall directed him to one well-stuffed chair in her office. "And have some tea, biscuits too."
There was the all-too-familiar cup of tea and plate of biscuits he had seen many times over his Hogwarts years, an indelible part of the Deputy Headmistress's office. This time, however, it wasn't a detention they were to discuss.
Harry took the offered beverage. It was the usual blend and temperature. No matter what changed around Hogwarts, Minerva McGonagall would prepare tea her way. If only more things remained as constant at the school.
The good professor had invited him to her office in the middle of July, just as the reconstruction of Hogwarts was underway. He had just driven a swarm of doxies from an unused classroom, whose wall needed fixing after the battle, when her Patronus found him with the message. Ever since the battle, magical pests and worse seemed to plague the school much more than before. There had been some incidents with redcaps and the Hogwarts elves reported an increase in the number of boggart infestations.
Ron and Hermione came too, eager to help rebuild the castle, and since they were both good with the Riddikulus spell, they were checking broom cupboards and cabinets to make sure there would be no unpleasant surprises for new students once the school year started.
"Ahem." The professor's prim cough interrupted his musings.
"Ah, sorry, professor," Harry apologized with a shrug. "Got… lost in thought."
"Indeed." Her lips thinned. "Harry, I like to think I have grown to know you over the years." The corners of her mouth twitched upwards. "So allow me to be direct."
"Of course." Harry nodded while dipping a biscuit in the tea.
"How are you doing?" She put her own cup down, looking directly at him over her glasses.
He had to remember to raise the biscuit before it broke off, not wanting it to fall into the cup. How was he doing? He shrugged.
"I.. well, I don't rightly know. I've been tired since, well, since the battle."
"I have noticed the circles under your eyes," Minerva noted. "Are you not sleeping well?"
"Sometimes." He sighed. "But even if I do…" He shrugged again. It felt good to speak plainly to someone.
She sighed into her tea. "I understand, Harry."
He had noticed that she looked thin and haggard, but had chosen not to comment on it.
"And other than that? How are you feeling?"
"Again." He shrugged. He was doing that a lot lately. "I don't really know. I've been to the healers after the battle, and I'm fine. But…"
"Go on." She nodded at him.
"I'm missing them, the folk who, well, fell." He was looking at his lap. "Fred, Lavender, Colin, so many others. It's strange." He was looking at her now. "I haven't known many of them as well as I'd have liked. And I'm missing them. Won't get a chance to know them now, will I?" He remembered to take a sip of the tea, before it got cold. It also gave him more time to think. "I'm happy I could join in rebuilding the castle. Gives me something to focus on."
"Mhm." She nodded and ate a biscuit. "This brings me to my next point. I have heard that Minister Shacklebolt offered you a place in the Auror Office."
"That's true." Hary recognized the question in there.
Her lips thinned again. "Very well. Allow me to make another offer." She looked him directly in the eyes. "Mr Potter, Hogwarts will open on the first of September, and you will be welcome, should you choose to attend. The same is true for your friends." She leaned towards him. "Do not answer me immediately, take your time to think about it and talk it over with Ms Granger and Mr Weasley. Before you start working, I offer you a year at Hogwarts. A year without Death Eaters or Voldemort. A year with your friends, with your only worries being homework and exams."
She bowed her head.
"It shames me to admit that Hogwarts has so far failed to provide you with such an experience. Please, allow me and my colleagues to rectify that. And know, that even if you choose not to attend, Hogwarts will always welcome you."
Her warm smile followed him as he left the room.
=======(/\)=======
In the end, all three agreed to come to Hogwarts. Even Ron wasn't particularly looking forward to immediately working as an Auror, not after the battle. Hermione, of course, jumped at the chance to finish her education.
And Harry? He would happily go along with his friends, keeping the trio close together for one more year. Together. Last year had tested them all. Harshly. They had almost been found wanting. But despite it all, they stood together still.
A normal year? He looked at his wand, twirling it, watching its tip. Well, he would keep it handy.
=======(/\)=======
The Hogwarts Express had looked as if nothing had changed. A bright red locomotive, a familiar sight. But much had, in fact, changed. The Auror presence at Platform 9 ¾ was hard to miss. People were quiet, warily looking over their shoulders, quickly ushering their children on the train. Many parents looked haggard, and Harry noticed many of them, along with their children bearing new scars, a few of them hiding empty sleeves.
The Creeveys, he had noticed, had spoken hardly a word, but Dennis determinedly dragged his trunk to an empty compartment and locked the door. Hermione followed his example, and locked their compartment door. Neither of them wished to be disturbed.
"Have you noticed?" Ron asked, his pallor only making his freckles that much more visible.
"Yes." Hermione nodded, a faraway look in her eyes. "Everyone was ready to either fight or flee." She rubbed her arms with a despondent look. "I was hoping we could leave this behind us."
"Not so fast, Hermione," Harry replied, looking out the window. "Not so fast. It's still too recent."
He was keenly aware of the speed of the train, of the window. Were he to fall out, it would be quick.
And there was still his wand, in its holster. Ready.
=======(/\)=======
The train brought them to Hogsmeade Station, under a cloudy sky, with the sun shyly peeking over the horizon, before vanishing from sight. Ron and Hermione shared a smile, seeing the first-year students boarding the boats under Hagrid's guidance. The gruff, yet gentle giant sent a wild wave towards Harry and his friends, which they gladly returned.
The older students, however, were taking their time, at least so it seemed. There was a large group of them standing next to the station, staring at the carriages waiting for them, pointing, and murmuring.
"The Thestrals!" Hermione was the first to realise.
Indeed, the students were pointing at the unusual winged horses, who were tilting their reptilian heads, curiously observing the students with their white eyes.
"Oh, pardon. Excuse me. If you'll let me…" Luna, with quiet apologies, forced her way through the crowd, making sure to step on as few toes as possible, ducking under arms, and in one case, climbing over a particularly diminutive second year that just refused to budge.
"Hello." She announced her presence to the closest skeletal horse, patting its neck. "How was your summer? Oh, I hope it was nice."
At even louder murmurs, Luna turned around.
"What?" Her silver eyes challenged the crowd. "These are Thestrals, lovely animals."
"Exactly," Harry spoke up, making his way towards Luna with Ron and Hermione in tow. He nodded at a dirty blonde he passed, who was leaning on a cane, her other hand holding the hand of a younger girl. Daphne Greengrass, one of the Slytherins, stood there with a grim face. She, he realized, certainly knew what the sight of those horses meant. He had seen her a few times, while working on the castle, working in silence. The others, however, shared stories of her, of avoiding cursing the younger years, comforting them when possible. They told of her leading a group of Slytherins back to the castle during the battle, to flank the Death Eaters. That move had caused much confusion in their ranks, giving the defenders a significant advantage. She returned his silent nod.
Upon reaching Luna, Harry turned around, noting the pale, scarred faces looking at his little group.
"Those who don't know, listen up," he addressed the onlookers. "Only those who have seen and comprehend death can see the Thestrals." He cast a gimlet eye at the students, noting the curious absence of a particular redhead. "We have all seen enough of that." He turned around and patted the lizard-like head of the nearest animal. "They are gentle, and smart, and have always pulled the carriages. So why don't we all get in, and head to the castle, before the Headmistress gives us all detention."
Ron turned towards Luna. "Would you like to ride with us?"
"Certainly." She nodded. "It is nice to ride with friends."
Harry nodded at that, and held the nearest carriage's door open.
Once all four got into the carriage and the door closed, they were underway, feeling the little bumps, as the wooden wheels carried them.
"What?" Harry looked at his friends, seeing their curious looks.
"That was… er..." Ron was unsure how to describe what he had seen.
"I would say that was rather forward." Hermione, on the other hand, had no such trouble.
Harry shrugged in response. "They were blocking the way. Better to get to Hogwarts. Hagrid can teach a lesson on Thestrals." If any of his friends noticed his somewhat rougher tone in his rushed response, they refused to comment on it. The rest of the journey they spent in silence, each lost in their thoughts.
Finally, the castle loomed over them, its silhouette somehow sinister against the dark sky, with dark shadows seemingly moving around the walls and battlements. And a bit aside, shadows were moving within the Forbidden Forest, more numerous and more unsettling than what either of the four within the carriage remembered.
"What was that?" Hermione asked, as they heard a squeak from outside the carriage.
"Hm?" Luna closed her eyes and listened carefully. "Redcaps."
Ron caressed the handle of his wand. "Bloody pests."
Harry nodded in response. "We have already driven them away once. Didn't last long." He heaved a heavy sigh.
"They are attracted to places where blood has been shed," Luna noted.
"Bugger," Ron and Harry answered in perfect harmony, while Hermione hid a faint smile.
=======(/\)=======
They trooped into the Great Hall and each house went to their table, each briefly eyeing the spot where the wall had been breached, marked by a somewhat lighter stonework. The countless candles floated in the air, giving the Hall an eerie light, reflected off the overcast ceiling, looking like a legion of Will-O-Wisps, gathered from all the marshes of Britain to welcome the young wizards and witches.
Professor McGonagall sat at the High Table, her chair a stark difference to Dumbledore's throne-like seat: stern, simple, uncomfortable, as if to remind the Headmistress not to rest on her laurels. The seat to her right was empty, since her Deputy was on his way with the first years, and Harry recognized some faces among the professors: Slughorn, rotund as ever, with his moustache worthy of a walrus; Sprout, her hair wild, as she was waving to her Hufflepuffs; and also some new faces.
A bang echoed through the hall and Harry instinctively drew his wand, though he was far from alone in that. The main doors opened and Hagrid with Professor Flitwick were leading the first years in. With a wave of her wand, McGonagall prepared the stool with the Sorting Hat.
"So small," Harry muttered when he saw the pale first years looking around, nervous, pale, clinging to each other. A few boys and girls were even fighting back tears.
The sorting ceremony proved much shorter than he remembered.
It was a stark realization, and by Hermione's muffled sob he knew she arrived at the same conclusion. The first years' numbers were the lowest they had seen so far. The long house tables remained unchanged from years past, and yet, even with an entire extra year of students sitting there, the first years fit comfortably in, and much spare space remained.
"Bugger it," Ron murmured, looking down, eyes scrunched, as a tear rolled down his long nose.
How many had they really lost?
And then McGonagall was standing, using a spoon to ring on a glass.
"Thank you for your attention." Her voice, thanks to magic, reached the far corners of the Great Hall. "I would like to welcome you to Hogwarts if this is your first year, and welcome back those who chose to return." She stood ramrod straight, commanding the attention of hundreds of students. "Last year was certainly unusual and it is my hope that this year will prove much better."
She scanned all four house tables.
"Since last year proved so unsatisfactory, those who should have graduated have been offered a chance to attend one more year, to make up for the insufficient instruction that was inflicted on them. I assure you that there is enough space in every dormitory."
Her wide gesture encompassed the High Table. "Rest assured that if you face any trouble, your Head of House will always make time to speak with you. And my door is open to any of you. No issue is too small." She took a sip of pumpkin juice before continuing.
"I would like to introduce Professor Wilson who had spent several years travelling the world and learning magic. He agreed to share his experience with you in Defence Against the Dark Arts."
Professor Wilson was a tall, well-built man with a tan, clean-shaven head, dressed in plain black robes. As he waved to the students, his keen eyes observed them.
"Professor Cooper will be teaching Muggle Studies."
A thin, bespectacled witch with her dark hair in a plait going over her right shoulder, contrasting with her bright blue robes, cheerfully waved at the students.
"And Professor Hill will be my replacement, teaching Transfiguration, and also the Head of House Gryffindor." She pointed at a rather small young man with short dark hair who was just trying to straighten his grey robes.
Noticing the attention, Professor Hill gave the students an easy smile and a cheerful wave.
"And just a few more announcements before I let you enjoy the feast." McGonagall smiled, mischief in her eyes, but soon turned serious. "The Forbidden Forest remains forbidden, now more than ever before. Do not venture there, especially alone. You will also find the Hospital Wing has additional staff. The Saint Mungo's Hospital has lent us several healers who will be here all year."
She quelled the surge of questions from the student body with a strict glare. "Your Head of House will give you the schedule for mandatory health checks. After last year, this measure was deemed necessary. The healers will be speaking to you further, both about your experiences last year, and your experiences this year." Seeing several students about to protest, she spoke up again. "I assure you I will be speaking to them as well. The last year was harrowing, something which never should have happened. We all will need help to overcome that. Me included." She took a deep breath. "Please, trust the healers, they are professionals sworn to help you however they can."
There was a loud noise in the Hall when the Headmistress finished her speech as hundreds of students started murmuring to each other.
"What do you reckon?" Ron turned towards Harry and Hermione.
"Do you know any of those new teachers?" Harry replied with a question of his own.
Hermione just shook her head while Ron scratched his chin. "I think Bill mentioned going to school with that Hill fellow. Supposed to be very good with a wand, nice too. What do you think about the healers?"
Harry cast a look around them. "We'll need them. Loads of folk got hurt badly during the battle. And there'll be more accidents too. The redcaps on school grounds worry me."
Hermione closed her eyes for a moment, before looking at them both. "I am surprised that we get to talk to the healers." At both of the boys looking at her, she huffed and continued. "After what everyone has been through, we need it." She shrugged, shuddered, and rubbed her arms. "I just never thought I would see it in the magical world. I have been thinking of going to a psychologist. Why are you looking at me like that? I heard it is supposed to help."
"I guess," Harry admitted, "we probably need all the help we can get."
As usual, the tables groaned under a veritable avalanche of excellent food. After last year, Harry truly appreciated the elves going all out, and was quick to grab some lamb chops, mashed potatoes, sausages, and steak and kidney pie.
Ron too did not hesitate and was making a veritable mound of food on his plate. Even Hermione decided to have a filling dinner.
For those moments of food-induced bliss, they managed to forget the woes they had faced, and Hogwarts seemed like it was before the war. Chatter flew around the Hall as the students seemed determined to devour all that the elves had worked on. Desserts arrived after the main meal: apple pies, chocolate gateaux; but Harry had decided that the treacle tart had his name written on it. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a pair of Slytherin girls both dive into oversized bowls of ice cream.
Who would have thought that the silent Daphne Greengrass had it in her? And her younger neighbour definitely did not fall behind in gusto. Her sister, perhaps? Their hair looked to have the same shade. She had been the one to hold Daphne's hand when meeting the Thestrals. There were no traces of the earlier fear now, as she had finished the bowl and stretched her arms, careful not to knock over her sister's cane.
Looking around, he noticed Ginny sitting among her dormmates, but she avoided looking at him, dropping her gaze to her lap. What was going on? She had been avoiding him ever since she had checked up on him after the battle. During the reconstruction of Hogwarts, he had not managed to meet up with her even once. Not that he had tried very hard. What did he even have to offer beyond his own tired self?
He was interrupted from his musing by a roll of parchment slithering its way up his leg like a snake. Once he caught it, it fell limp. Unrolling it, he read a short missive from Ginny, asking him to meet after they get settled into their dorms, in a particular abandoned classroom. He nodded at her, which she acknowledged by blinking, while talking to her own classmates.
=======(/\)=======
The room that Ginny had told him to meet in was one of the few that had been completely renovated over the summer. He even remembered working on this very room together with Professor Flitwick. The stone just didn't have the same patina that the old walls had accumulated over the centuries. Even the desks and benches smelled of new wood. The trip there was far from pleasant, he remembered the spots from which they had to clean the bloodstains, and the walls looked like they were pockmarked by the spots where new stone had to be used to fix the holes.
Those weren't all the troubles they had to face, however. The year of dark arts use had left its mark on the castle, as had the brutal spells during the battle. Despite numerous cleansing spells being cast on the school, the dark magic still lingered, twisting the space, air, and shadows. So many corridors, nooks, and crannies now contained sinister shadows and chilling air movements. The prefects had to patrol more often now, as the darker corners of the castle attracted more troublesome creatures. However, the time for musings came to an end, since Ginny just entered the room.
"You're here, good." Ginny's voice sounded anything but relieved and she had trouble looking at him.
"You said you wanted to meet in private?" Harry asked her, trying to think of reasons why she would behave in such a way. "Did something happen?" And why had she avoided him previously? But he didn't want to voice that just yet.
Ginny took a long, shuddering breath. "That's..., yes. Something did happen." She finally looked at him, furiously rubbing at her eyes, glistening with tears. "I… I wanted to tell you. I'm so sorry!"
"Ginny?" His usual weariness gave way to alertness, and he was painfully aware of where his wand's handle was sticking out of its holster. "Ginny, what happened? Did somebody hurt you?"
"No. Well, yes, but they hurt everyone." She stopped trying to stem the flow of the tears and visibly steeled herself. "Harry, I… Do you remember, before you left on that hunt, at the Burrow, we…" She paused, frustration in her eyes. "I don't want to lead you on, Harry." She took a deep breath after blurting that out. "I… I wanted to tell you properly, but…" She sobbed quietly. "The words always just… They just vanished, or were stupid, or we were working on fixing the castle, and…" She hung her head. "And in the end, I was a coward."
"What do you mean?" Harry had a feeling he knew where this talk was going.
"It was horrible, last year. With Neville and the DA we tried to make it bearable, but…" She shrugged and sobbed. "It's no excuse, we tried to find comfort where we could. It was less horrible with Terry around."
Ah, now Harry understood. He always thought he would be… angry? Sad? Crushed? He knew he should be, but… No, all he felt was a sense of relief. He put his hands on her shoulders. "Does he make you happy, Ginny?"
His question caused more tears to fall as she nodded.
"Good." He followed his words by bringing Ginny closer and enveloping her in a soft hug. "You deserve some happiness." One he wouldn't be able to give her. Good. One less person tying him… No, one less person that would miss him. She would be better off with Terry. Without him.
She sniffled a few times and squeezed his waist. Then she looked up, eyes red.
"I'm here, breaking up with you, telling you I'm with another man." She sniffled again. "And you're comforting me." She shook her head. "You are impossible, Harry." A smile blossomed on her face while tears rolled down her cheeks. "You died for us, only to come back. To us." Her glistening brown eyes gazed into his own. "But who is comforting you?"
She always could ask the right questions. He remembered comfort, and knew how to find those who provided it. It would be so easy. Easier than falling asleep.
"Ginny." He looked down into her eyes. "I don't see a woman breaking up with me. I see a friend in need of comforting." He squeezed her. "So I try to offer what comfort I can."
Ginny huffed and disentangled herself from him, taking his hands into her own, her sharp, teary gaze commanding his attention.
"Promise me, Harry Potter." Her hoarse whisper fell onto his ears. "When you need a friend to comfort you, promise me that you'll tell me." She squeezed his hands. "You are my friend too."
Two sets of tears mingled on the ground.
"I promise." He could not deny her.
=======(/\)=======
On the way to check out one of the darker corners of a particularly long corridor in which the first years had reported suspicious and unnerving sounds, Harry was stopped by a familiar brown-haired boy. The war had left its mark on him too, he was sporting an eyepatch over his left eye.
"Potter, do you have a moment?" Terry Boot gestured towards a door to one of the unused classrooms, one of the scars stretching the left corner of his mouth into a permanent grin.
"Sure." Harry nodded and made sure the classroom was empty, checking the corners for doxies and cabinets for boggarts. Terry did the same, looking into every cabinet at the opposite side of the classroom. Fortunately, this room had been cleaned quite recently, so their check was quick.
"Alright, what's the matter?" Harry turned towards Terry after checking the last cabinet.
Terry's gaze caused shivers to run down Harry's spine, only one eye looked at him, and the scars going from under the eyepatch suggested a grisly wound hiding underneath.
"I've wanted to talk to you for some time." Terry was wringing his hands.
"I imagine so," Harry said. "I've spoken to Ginny."
Terry sighed. "That's why I wanted to talk to you." He raised his head. "I've seen you hugging Ginny."
"Hm, is that a problem?" Harry raised his eyebrows.
Terry shrugged in response, looking away for a moment. "I've come to know Ginny, you know."
"That is a good thing." Harry tried to put emphasis on what he was saying.
"Oh, you are right." A smile crept to Terry's face, crooked, but genuine. "So very right. Ginny's amazing, you know, she was great the whole year."
Harry returned the smile, wistful, fleeting. "Yes, I know."
Terry's unnerving gaze focused on Harry. "That means I know that Ginny takes care of her friends when they're hurting."
"Yeah." Harry nodded his agreement. "She does, doesn't she?"
Terry's gaze grew distant. "During the year, she was amazing. Kept a lot of the younger years going." Then he focused on Harry again. "Which leads me to this, are you alright, Potter?"
A grimace twisted Harry's features. "Getting there, I guess."
"Yeah," Terry chuckled. "I guess that's about the best any of us can hope for, hm?"
"True." Harry nodded. "Listen, does Ginny make you happy?"
"Heh, what a question." Terry snorted. "Yeah, Potter, she makes me happy. Best thing that happened to me."
Harry sighed deeply. "I'm glad. Listen, call me Harry? We'll be seeing more of each other."
"Ah, I guess we will at that." Terry gave a lopsided grin. "Well, see you later then. Harry."
With a quiet wave, the two young men, each bearing scars of the past, went their separate ways.
=======(/\)=======
Almost two months had gone by, and the students' mood seemed to imitate the weather. Days were growing shorter, and the dark, overcast sky made them shorter still. Light itself looked to be fleeing ever sooner, though the school bravely tried to ward off the ever encroaching darkness with flickering torches and candles.
Harry had to admit the professors, new and old, were doing an admirable job, taking on more lessons and making sure to emphasise that they were always available. Professor Wilson grew especially popular with many students, having organized regular presentations about magic he had encountered around the world. Even Ron sat at the edge of his seat, eagerly leaning in as he listened to the professor's oration about delving into ruins in Southern America. The man stood, torchlight reflecting off his bald head, striding to and fro, gesticulating wildly, and using a spell to create an illusion of a particular stone statue he had found.
Hermione, on the other hand, enjoyed the company of professor Cooper, becoming her assistant in organizing regular movie nights at Hogwarts. The two young women were often in deep discussion about muggle inventions or animatedly debating which film to show the Hogwarts students and faculty.
Harry sighed. These efforts were great, and especially the younger years enjoyed them. The distraction from the school routine helped them with coping, filling their free time. The less time they had free to brood and wander the castle, the better.
Professor Hill had asked the eighth years to assist the prefects in monitoring the castle, but even so, there had been incidents when younger students encountered doxies or boggarts. Every week, the faculty and the prefects, together with the eighth years made sure the school grounds were cleared of redcaps and similar pests.
If only the other problems could be so easily warded off though. Even if talking to the healers helped, Harry had to endure waking up hours before dawn, his sleep plagued by nightmares whose contents were foggy at best when he talked to his friends or the healers. He remembered voices, screams, and most of all, faces of the dead. Looking at him, their gaze empty and unnerving, their silence speaking volumes of accusations.
Ron had to be reprimanded several times for either falling behind on work, or bouts of explosive temper. But Harry knew. He saw the tears in Ron's eyes when he screamed, knew the name on Ron's mind when he closed himself off from others. Fred.
Even the castle itself, once so warm and welcoming, was drafty and increasingly hostile. More and more younger students came late to lessons because the staircases refused to move to the correct position, or doors remained locked.
And now, Harry and Professor Wilson were looking at a suit of armour that had let go of its poleaxe just as two third years were walking under it. They had been quick on their feet, fortunately, but as Professor Wilson said to the Headmistress, the next time, that may not be the case.
"Professor Dumbledore showed you how to detect magical traces, Mr Potter?" The bald man, usually so animated, asked him with a grim face. At Harry's nod, he went on. "Good, tell me what you can see here. Then we will compare results."
"It's strange," Harry murmured, waving his wand and focusing. "At one moment it looks like nothing's there." He frowned. "And then there's a faint trace. It feels… cold." He gave a shudder. "And angry."
The professor nodded. "That is also what I found. Here, and in other spots of the castle." He looked Harry up and down. "What do you think could be the cause, Mr Potter?"
Harry took his time to think. This was how the professor often taught, introducing a problem and asking the students to solve it. Now, however, more than marks were at stake.
"This feels so different from the traces left by wizards and witches," Harry thought aloud. "Could it be a trace of some creature? We've had trouble with them moving in."
"Indeed we have," the professor said. "In a way, you are right. But even a magical creature leaves a stable trace, though it deteriorates over time."
The professor swept his arm to encompass the armour and the corridor. "But this flickering… I have not seen any creature alive that causes this."
"Alive, sir?" Harry asked, a gleam of understanding in his eyes.
"Aye, you arrived at the same conclusion." The professor nodded and sheathed his wand. "Not all creatures are truly alive, but we can rule out the Dementors."
Harry breathed out heavily. Dementors at Hogwarts again. That came uncomfortably close to his dreams.
"Yes, foul beasts, the Dementors. However, some beings may not be alive any longer." The professor's voice sounded flat. "I have seen cases of this in my travels. The deceased, driven by strong wrath, hatred, or other strong emotional bonds, refusing to pass on." A deep frown marred his features. "Not ghosts as you are used to. Spectres, vengeful dead seeking to hurt the living. Or innocent souls who had not yet tasted what the world had to offer, wishing to linger. To matter."
Harry watched the corridor warily. "Do you think it's a vengeful spirit doing this?"
The professor led him to his office, talking on the way. "Just consider what was happening here for a year. Dark magic used daily. I know you can feel the traces of that too."
Harry scowled at that but nodded.
"And it was not just magic," the professor went on. "Grudges grew. Students sought to return the torment they had to suffer. This then culminated in the battle. Many died on both sides. Blood was shed and wrath reigned here."
"That's why the bloody redcaps keep coming back," Harry muttered, gripping his wand tighter.
"Exactly. And it is only getting worse." The professor stopped in front of the door to his office.
"Mhm, more of them come back each week." Harry rubbed his side where a redcap had torn into him a few days ago, eager to taste his blood.
"Yes. Thank you for your assistance, Mr Potter. Take fifteen points. I will be speaking to the Headmistress about this." The professor opened the door. "We need to solve this, or the situation will only get worse."
=======(/\)=======
The eighth years and his friends were already waiting for him in the Room of Requirement, or at least most of them. Harry found them lounging around in what looked like a clubroom, with numerous circular tables, playing games, studying, a few members even just lying around.
During the last year, it had become a hideout, a shelter for those who had found the regime at Hogwarts too oppressive. It had served as a combination of a dorm, common room, and even a kitchen with where they could take their meals. The Hogwarts Elves had, fortunately, been all too eager to help the students defy the Death Eaters, and happily provided them with both food and dishes. Once in, it had ceased to matter what colour one wore on their robes. What had been important was that one had refused to curse their classmates, and had sworn not to rat the others out.
This curious brotherhood had persevered the school year, and its members were reluctant to let go of the bonds they had forged. And so, the Room of Requirement saw regular use, becoming a Common Room for every House.
Once Harry entered, he noticed quite a few of them abandoning their games and books and having their wands ready. Greengrass gave him a nod, hiding her wand in the sleeve, while still clutching her cane like a club. Seamus was grimacing, a thin strip of smoke still rising from the tip of his wand. Luna waved at him, returning her wand behind her ear, while Hermione and Ron were rushing towards him.
"Have you found out how it happened?" Hermione fired out her question.
Harry halted her with a gesture, accepted a cup of hot tea from Dean, and took a seat with a tired sigh.
"We're not sure, Hermione." Harry scowled. "There were traces of dark magic on the armour." He took a sip of the tea, sighing contentedly. "Similar to what's been appearing around the castle. The professor thinks it might be some vengeful spirit."
Some of those present blinked, while others either grimaced, or nodded with serious expressions.
"Last year could have produced many," Greengrass said, gripping her cane tightly.
The room grew quiet at the reminder of the battle, every person remembering at least one friend or family who fell.
"It could also be other spirits who linger," Luna spoke up. "Not all who linger died choking with rage. At times, it is regret too." There was silence at her words. "And others died before tasting much bitterness in life. Those poor, unfulfilled souls find it difficult to leave this world behind." She was looking at the floor, as if recounting an old memory. "Others are shackled to us, by chains of regret and longing, chains of our own making."
"The dark traces from last year." Harry grimaced. "The spirits lingering around. It's no wonder we're getting more boggarts and redcap attacks."
"Something needs to be done," Neville spoke up. "Sooner or later, someone is going to get seriously hurt if this continues."
There was a series of nods and murmurs, Harry's among them. "Professor Wilson is speaking to the Headmistress. But I don't think they'd mind more ideas or suggestions." He looked around the room, a growing feeling of dismay weighing on him as he watched the confused faces, hoping against hope somebody would step forward with an idea.
"I think I have an idea," Luna piped up. "It is close to Halloween. Don't grimace, Harry." There was nervous laughter around the room. "Bad things tend to happen to you. But it truly is a good time for rituals. The boundary with the world of the dead gets thinner." She took a breath. "I am quite sure my mother told me stories of such rituals"
Harry felt a headache coming. "Alright. That sounds like a good suggestion. Any other ideas to tell the Headmistress?"
=======(/\)=======
"Bill!" Ron rushed forward to hug his older brother, whose wife, Fleur was trailing just behind, radiant as ever.
Bill returned the hug, gave another one to Ginny, and patted Harry and Hermione on the shoulders while Fleur proceeded to kiss them all on the cheeks.
"Good to see you all. The Headmistress called us both in as consultants." Bill's smile was still able to put them at ease, though his scars were able to put off people who didn't know him.
Harry was nodding. "It's better to have a professional look at what's happening here." He looked at the pair. "Do you want to hear what we've found so far?"
Bill and Fleur looked at each other, communicating without words.
"No, 'Arry. Thank you, but we will take a look first." Fleur hugged Bill's arm, holding him close.
"Makes sense." Harry nodded. "We can compare notes later."
"Just be careful, you two," said Hermione, worrying her lower lip.
"Aren't I always?" Bill threw a rakish grin their way.
Ron snorted. "Not going to answer that. What does it look like at home?"
Bill's smile vanished. "Not good. Dad told me mum's not doing well. Seems like she's always feeling under the weather. Doesn't sleep properly. And has had a streak of bad luck months long."
Ron grimaced. "That's really not good. Take a look around here first. We'll talk later."
"You got it, little brother. We'll talk later." Bill turned to Fleur. "Shall we?"
"Oui." She blushed and giggled.
The two entered one of the smaller corridors, joking and laughing.
Ron, meanwhile, was muttering to himself, before turning to Harry. "Do you think mum could also have some of those spirits after her? She isn't here, but…"
"It sounds very similar." Harry nodded, while Hermione put her hand on Ron's shoulder and squeezed to show her support. "She was at the battle and she has definitely earned some ire from possible lingering spirits."
Hermione paled while Ron cursed.
"Bellatrix."
=======(/\)=======
"We have found a suitable spot where we could organise a cleansing ritual," Professor Wilson announced to the Headmistress. "It is in the Forbidden Forest, but surprisingly close to the school. The clearing is almost perfectly circular. As if it was intentional."
"It is not outside the realm of possibility that similar rituals happened there in the past," Bill said with a shrug.
They had been sitting in the teachers' meeting room, with the whole faculty.
"Are we sure that this ritual is the best course of action?" Professor Flitwick asked, his voice somewhat squeaky.
"We 'ave confirmed an unusually 'igh concentration of dark residues 'ere," Fleur spoke up. "It is already affecting the castle."
"Besides," the Headmistress interjected, "if we do nothing, the situation will only worsen."
The wood burning in the fireplace let out an especially loud crackle just as she finished speaking.
"Yes," Bill nodded, "Professor Wilson and Harry were right. Much of the dark residue here is due to lingering vengeful spirits." He frowned. "Their activity is increasing. If nothing is done, somebody is going to get hurt, or worse."
The Headmistress took out a roll of parchment. "Miss Granger helped me research such rituals and their use in history. We have pieced together how such rituals were conducted." She smiled briefly. "Miss Lovegood was also quite helpful, as were Miss Greengrass and Mister MacMillan.
"Good." Bill nodded. "The ritual should happen as soon as possible. Halloween is in a few days. That is a good time for such a ritual, if I remember my Astronomy right. It makes crossing over easier. However, this cleansing ritual will be dealing with some serious dark magic." Bill looked at all the professors. "Not everyone will be happy about us doing it."
"I am aware of this danger, it was also mentioned in historical records. As were the protective measures." The Headmistress was tapping her chin. "Miss Granger found it."
"Hermione does her research properly," Bill noted with a smile.
"Aye." the Headmistress returned the smile. "She makes me proud. Our eighth years are already looking for the items required to protect the ritual."
=======(/\)=======
"In here." Floppy the house-elf pointed at a rather worn pair of doors. "The costumes you are looking for are in that room."
"Thank you, Floppy," Hermione addressed her. "You have been a very big help."
"You are welcome, Miss," Floppy spoke, her squeaky voice carrying through the hallway, and popped away.
The doors led to a storage room covered in a fine layer of dust. There were several shelves with a clutter of objects, ranging from old to ancient, plates and goblets mostly, and a wooden chest with what looked like a metal belt going around it.
"It must be in here." Hermione breathed out and sneezed. "Ugh." She brandished her wand. "Some assistance, please?"
Ron, Harry, Luna, Neville, and Ginny trooped inside standing shoulder to shoulder.
"Cleaning charms on three," Hermione commanded. "One. Two. Three!"
Spells flew in salvos as the sextet wove their magic around the room, cleaning up dust and stains. After a few minutes, they lowered their wands.
"Whew." Ron wiped the sweat off his forehead. "I can really believe nobody was in this room for centuries. Good thing we worked together on this."
"Alright." Hermione stepped forward again. "Let's see what is inside. Help me with the lid."
They approached the chest which had stood there for years, maybe centuries, and found it unlocked.
"Akin to wands choosing the wizard," Hermione recited from memory, "the masks too shall choose their wearers. So let's take a look, but be careful."
They had to strain to lift the lid, the hinges having suffered ages of not being used or oiled. Inside, they found folded clothes of various colours, furs, caps, even a helmet.
"Well, looks like it is here." Hermione sighed in relief. "Let's bring it to the meeting room and see what mask chooses whom."
"Are there enough masks for everyone?" Harry wanted to know.
"From the records, it looks like not everyone wore the masks," Hermione replied. "Only a few people, usually a magically strong number of guardians, took part."
"So, that means seven?" He well remembered the last time they had discussed magically powerful numbers. Hopefully, this time it was going to cause fewer problems.
Hermione just shrugged. "I guess we will see how many masks will choose their wearers."
=======(/\)=======
The masks and costumes were spread out on a long table in one of the lecture halls that had seen only occasional use. The professors and cursebreakers had examined them first, but could find no traps, no dark enchantments. In fact, other than spells to help preserve the masks and costumes, they seemed to hold no magic at all.
None of the professors, however, felt any sort of pull, so it was determined that only the participants in the battle of Hogwarts would have access to the room. Professor McGonagall gave a stern lecture on acting responsibly.
"Remember, the choice here will have an impact on an ancient, powerful rite. You will have to deal with the consequences of that choice. Make it, therefore, carefully."
Harry exchanged a glance with Ron and Hermione and sighed. They stepped forward, among the first, to walk along the table. The others soon followed, seeing that example. Seeing some of the costumes, Ron shrugged while Hermione sighed in exasperation. Many of them did not cover much. They passed various combinations of tunics, cloaks, masks, adorned with feathers, horns, fur, claws, antlers. Many masks had grotesque faces with snouts, long fangs, snarls.
"Those are supposed to keep dark things away, huh?" Ron muttered to himself. Not quiet enough though.
"That's what the records said," Hermione answered him. "Honestly, it looks more like it would make it look like the dark things have already arrived."
"That's probably the point," Harry noted. "Hiding by mimicry. We did that."
"Don't remind me." Hermione shivered. "I still remember how wrong Bellatrix's wand felt."
"It's behind us, Hermione," Ron whispered to her, putting an arm around her shoulders.
"Obviously not." She snorted. "Or we wouldn't need… this."
Hermione definitely had a point. She usually did. If they wanted to have any hope for peace, they needed this. Why couldn't their problems just have ended that night, during the battle? He felt the familiar weariness seep into his bones again. Perhaps after the ritual, he would finally have time to rest?
They had passed most of the costumes by then, when they heard a commotion from behind them. As they turned, they saw Neville picking up one of the masks, his face red. The costume consisted of a helmet adorned with ram's horns, a pair of breeches, and a colourful plaid patterned cloak.
Hannah was giggling right beside him and patting his back and whispering into his ear.
"Ah." Hermione nodded. "That costume needs him bare-chested." She giggled. "Poor Neville, I'm sure Hannah will make it up to him, though."
"Excuse me," came a tired female voice. "Coming through." Daphne was trying to get through a group of students, leaning on her cane. She finally got to the table, leaning the cane against its edge. The handle of the cane, now visible, was shaped to resemble a horse's head.
In her hands, Daphne was lifting up a shimmering cloak of feathers black and blue, and a mask with a crimson beak.
"That one's frightful, alright," Seamus muttered.
Harry shrugged, not sure what to think of it, when his gaze fell on a particular mask. He heard Hermione sigh loudly as he went to see it up close. Thankfully, it was a long tunic, dark green and smooth to the touch, with a mantle of darker green, its hood decorated with what originally drew Harry's eyes. A pair of antlers was set into the hood, like an ancient crown, each antler bearing a dozen tips.
He already knew what it meant and saw Ron putting his face in his palm in his peripheral vision, while Hermione whispered.
"It's always you, Harry."
With a deep breath, Harry lifted the costume and turned towards the exit from the room. His eyes met professor McGonagall's. There was a strange gleam in them that Harry could not decipher, so in the end, they exchanged nods.
There were more preparations to be made.
=======(/\)=======
The preparations had taken them until the day of Halloween. The curse breakers had swarmed the chosen clearing, making sure no curses lingered there, and then they proceeded to layer protective spells over it, together with the professors.
The day before, Mrs Weasley arrived, looking more haggard than Harry remembered ever seeing her. After a tearful reunion where she did her best to hug him, Hermione, Ron, and Ginny at the same time, they led her to the hall with the costumes. Since the first day, no other student took up any of the masks.
"Oh, hello, Molly." Madam Rosmerta was waving at the group. "So you've been invited too?"
"Oh, Rosie, yes," Molly spoke up. "My Bill explained it to me." She snorted in derision, though the bags under her eyes gave her face a disquieting cast. "Even after dying they have to be a nuisance."
"Oh, you are so right." Rosmerta frowned. "Two barrels of mead have spoiled because of them, and one shipment of butterbeer too." She shook her head. "Anyway, take a look around. Some of those costumes, why, I would have worn some of those on my dates."
Ron started blushing, imagining the beautiful and flirty barmaid in some of the costumes he had seen. Hermione's elbow in his side, however, quickly interrupted his daydreaming.
"Oh, stop that, Rosmerta." Molly giggled. "Have you felt any of that pull?"
Rosmerta rubbed her chin. "To be frank, I have felt the urge to look at one costume in particular."
"Ah," Harry interrupted them with a cough. "That's how it's worked so far."
"Really? Hm." Rosmerta headed towards a particular costume. It was a bright red flowing dress robe, accompanied by numerous golden jewels, choker, rings, bracelets, necklaces… And next to that was laid a curled golden horn, together with an axe with a broad head. "Now that will be a curious assortment." She hefted the axe, trying how it felt in her hand.
Meanwhile, Molly was browsing the various costumes, sometimes tutting, other times looking interested.
When Ron, Hermione, and Harry noticed which costume attracted her looks repeatedly, they all snickered. The costume chooses its wearer, indeed.
Molly took a decisive step towards one particular set. A bearskin modified so that it fit a human figure.
"Really now?" It was not lost on Molly that some people had started calling her a mama bear since the battle. "Oh, fine."
"I'm sure you'll look good in that, mum." Ron snickered, leaning on Harry to stay upright.
"Oh, quiet, Ron." Molly mock threatened him with a raised index finger. "Or you will see what this mother bear can do."
"I'm sure we all will, Mrs Weasley." Hermione was sporting a wide smile.