Chapter 5
One House
After a tense question and answer session that left everyone unsatisfied, they entered the Great Hall in a daze. While McGonagall had been speaking to them, the first years had clearly been sorted into their Houses and were already seated at the tables. Ron took one long look at the room and turned like a hapless puppy to Harry on one side and Hermione on the other (she seemed to have forgiven his earlier outburst in lieu of pondering McGonagall's announcements, Harry noticed).
"You're seeing what I'm seeing, right?"
The enchanted ceiling, the milling House ghosts, the long tables, the hubbub of student chatter, the row of teachers at the staff table - these all looked much the same. The reconstruction team had done well. Barring one important difference. Directly in front of them was another, shorter, table, laid horizontally in parallel to the teacher's own seating arrangement on the other side of the hall. Above it, as was the case above all four of the House tables for the occasion, were tapestries denoting the House colours. Dumbledore House. The place settings were purple and turquoise, with silver cutlery and goblets, amber napkins and thick ivory candles.
"They want us to eat together. Go to class together. AND sleep together." Justin Finch-Fletchley wasn't taking the news well.
"I don't reckon they want us to sleep together," Ernie Macmillan joked, but his heart wasn't in it.
"You know what I mean. Dorms. I know she said we could choose our roommates but still! We have to share a Common Room."
McGonagall had said that those dorm rooms must still be split along gender lines and there was to be no 'funny business.' They'd been encouraged to mix the Houses. It was the Wild West. No Rule of Law. Chaos. By the time she'd finished explaining everything Harry had started to feel that perhaps they were not comrades in arms after all...
"And that bit where she doesn't want us visiting our old Houses... it's madness..."
"It won't be so bad will it?" Hermione said. "It's not like we don't all get along. In fact, it'll be a bit like the DA won't it - all of us together again."
"Yeah, that's not the problem."
They all knew what the problem was. The problem was staring them in the face. Fewer Slytherins had returned than the other Houses, as was expected. Most of them were here by decree, a stipulation of their return to the wizarding world after the trials. Apart from this stipulation, they were for all intents and purposes... innocent. Ron had called this result 'bullshit' and Harry was hard-pressed to disagree. Nevertheless, here they were. Pansy Parkinson. Blaise Zabini. Theodore Nott. Daphne Greengrass. And, of course, Draco Malfoy. Of all of them, the result of his trial had been the biggest surprise. Harry remembered how the mood of the room had turned when he testified that Malfoy hadn't turned him in to Voldemort, despite seeing through his facial disfigurement... was him being here his fault, then?
Up ahead, McGonagall had reached the end of the Great Hall and stood at the podium. She cleared her throat and the hustle and bustle quietened to a murmur.
"I would ask you to all be seated, please."
No-one was moving, so Harry took the initiative and sat on the left hand side. Ron and Hermione sat beside him, and the others arranged themselves so there was a gap between their group and the Slytherins. Ex-Slytherins. They bunched together on the right. Malfoy sat on the end initially, but Harry noticed Parkinson deliberately join him, mouthing 'hello' as she did so. He wondered what the dynamics were there - who was in and who was out? That mattered to Slytherins, didn't it? Were there even enough of them to worry about that sort of thing anymore? With half of them either dead or in the run, it was hard to imagine they'd returned with quite the same attitudes from when they'd left. Certainly they had been mute so far. Their cards held close to their chests, maybe. Or... could they be planning something? He shook himself. Surely the time for plotting and scheming was past...
McGonagall gave an introductory speech that was something of a pared down version of what she had said before, except she spent some time congratulating the first years, very deliberately and emphatically welcoming returning Muggleborns, and explaining the usual rules about the Forbidden Forest. She then moved on to announcements.
"I'm pleased to announce that we have a new House of eighth year students, as you will have seen. Dumbledore House! Oh, now I see you all from afar we need to do something about that..."
And with a flick of her wand, she turned all of their school ties greenish-blue with thin purple and amber stripes and bolder silver bands. Ron yelped and buried his head in Hermione's shoulder. She patted his back.
"That woman is a menace," Ron muttered from amongst a cloud of curls. "She will hex my Gryffindor scarf over my dead body."
McGonagall explained the future of the eighth year system as she had previously. The Great Hall erupted into a low muttering, which she allowed for a few moments. She then sighed, the line of her mouth grim.
"We have lost many distinguished members of our staff these last few years. Albus Dumbledore, my friend, mentor and the rather large shoes I must now fill as Headmistress of Hogwarts. Severus Snape, an accomplished Potions master and hero. Charity Burbage, a woman before her time, an advocate for unity and professor of Muggle Studies. And though he was only with us for a short time, Remus Lupin, a beloved man who taught us all the true meaning of facing our fears.
"We shall remember them, and honour them by keeping their passions alive. In light of this, I would like to announce several new members of staff. May I introduce you to Natalie Tang, our new Potions professor and Head of Slytherin House. She was previously a teacher at Durmstrang."
The room erupted in applause. The woman stood and bowed gracefully. With her black hair and her black robes, Harry wondered for a moment if all Potions professors were cut from the same cloth... but then she flashed a peace sign, gave a jaunty wave and mimed a playful 'hiya' at the hall, before sitting down. Maybe not then.
"And professor Sonia Hadley, who will be taking the post of teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts, as well as filling in for me as Head of Gryffindor. She is an experienced foreign aid Auror, working in the Americas until recently in the running of the junior academies over there."
More applause. This woman was older, tough-looking with a long nose and a squashed, wide-brimmed hat. She looked like she was the type of person that, if duelling by wands didn't work out, she'd toss the magic and move to hand-to-hand combat without giving it a second thought.
"Taking my place in the Transfiguration department, we have two professors who will be job sharing the role. Mr Rasheed Khatri and Dr Diya Khatri."
Two doves flew from the ceiling and transformed into a middle-aged Indian couple. They took their seats, nodding and smiling as the students whooped and clapped.
"Finally, we have Bastian Collins, for Muggle Studies. He will also be running weekly workshops with professor Trelawney on philosophical, psychological and humanitarian subjects, which you will be asked to attend by invitation in mixed groups.
"With that all out of the way - let's toast to a new year at Hogwarts. Cheers!"
Suddenly the tables were groaning with food and the goblets were filled to the brim.
"That. That is what I'm talking about," Ron said, reaching for a chicken drumstick with one hand and a skewered kebab with the other. He took a bite out of each and closed his eyes in ecstasy. "At least some things haven't changed," he sighed.
Harry and Hermione laughed and launched themselves at the platters as well. Ever since the months of near starvation in the last year, the trio had become very appreciative of a good meal.
Once they had eaten and drunk enough to feed a small army - which, in a way, was an apt analogy - the dishes disappeared and were replaced with booklets detailing their class and extra-curricular options as eighth years. They were all to have one-to-one meetings with designated professors the next day, who would provide mentorship on the subject and career choices. They flicked through the books. Chattering flitted up and down the table.
"It definitely is bananas we have to write an essay on our first day," Harry was busy commiserating with Ron, a half hour or so later. The request was for twelve inches of parchment on the topic of personal ambitions, which was to be written after their mentor meeting for the following week. Hermione had already whipped out a notebook and was jotting down her thoughts, 'just to get them in order.'
"In a weird way, I forgot coming back here would mean things like classes and homework and stuff."
"Yeah."
"Thought'd just be all the good things. Like Quidditch - aw heck, do we even get to play Quidditch? Will they let us play on our team?"
Harry shoved his hand through his hair so it stuck out at all angles from his head. Quidditch! It was a damn good question. He resolved to ask... someone, as soon as possible. Madam Hooch had already left the staff table, annoyingly. They've got to let me play, right?
The new Muggle Studies professor - Collins - came over. He was a slight man with thinning blonde hair. One of his trouser legs was purple while the other was red and green stripes. He wore a tan shirt with a bow tie. His voice was high and melodic.
"Right, chaps and chapettes. I'm here to show you to your new dormitory. If you'll all please follow me?"
The groups walked after him as he led them through the castle. By habit, and perhaps in reaction to their current predicament, they had segregated themselves into groups of Gryffindors, Slytherins, Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. He took them up the stairs - naturally, they had to pause as a staircase decided to move at just the wrong time - and they carried on up to the fourth floor past the study area.
Harry frowned. It was a familiar route. Just ahead was the disused classroom that had once housed the Mirror of Erised for a brief time. They were heading straight for the entrance.
But... no, the whole end of the corridor was completely different.
All along one side was a giant mural depicting the battle of Hogwarts, so detailed and minute that the tiny figures were nearly impossible to make out. Harry was glad of that, he'd rather not have to walk past a miniature portrait of himself every day. They were running around, firing spells at robed and masked gangs of Death Eaters. Centaurs and giants charged in from the Forbidden Forest. Thestrals cut through the flashes of lightning in the sky, and the towers silhouetted against the storm were jagged, broken, like fangs. It was an ominous sight.
Though... if he wasn't mistaken, the battling students were... yes they were unkillable, bouncing back as if shaking off a stiff breeze as green lights struck them. They were, in return, casting ridiculous curses at the enemy, making them puke slugs and... did that one just turn into a small, fluffy creature? Harry was fairly sure the artist hadn't quite intended for these hijinks, which so undermined the grandeur of the battle scene, but he got the impression the tiny students had something of a will of their own, in keeping with the real students themselves.
"G-on yerself, son!" Seamus hissed, watching a brown-haired blur somersault over a Dementor's head and boot it in the backside so it fell face-first into a bucket.
"It's just up ahead," Professor Collins called back to them. "Come along."
They hurried past the mural - Harry grinned at Ron at the sight of a dragon gulping down a wriggling Death eater - and stopped just in front of a portrait of-
"Dumbledore!" Ron gasped.
The white-haired man whipped around. He peered out at them from over his half moon spectacles. Beside him was a desk with a flamboyant red quill dipped in ink and sheaves of paper stacked to left and right. A fat ginger tomcat was asleep on top of one of the piles. There was an empty cat bed on the rug. In the background, a fire crackled warmly.
"What what? Ron Weasley is it? I say, the haircut suits you my boy!" Ron's ears went pink. Dumbledore's portrait chuckled. "And look at you all. Magnificent thing, isn't it." It wasn't a question.
"Headmaster, sir, what have we discussed?" Collins was tutting.
The old man assumed a guilty expression, then winked at the gathering of students. "Oh yes well. I'm not really meant to be down here it's just-" He returned to rifling through the desk drawers. "A-ha! Emmeline thinks she can hide them from me - she can think again!" He pulled out a small bag and popped a swirly green boiled sweet in his mouth.
Then he, too, turned green. He examined his hand, thoughtfully.
"Regrettable," he sighed. "But delightfully minty."
"Really, headmaster. You're meant to be in the Headmistress' office. I know for a fact Ms. Vance wanted to greet the eighth years herself. Where is she by the way?"
The picture of Dumbledore waved a hand - a green but otherwise unblemished hand, Harry noted, with relief - and said, "Oh. Well I may have told her that Peeves was going to draw moustaches on the Order statue in the West wing (if you haven't seen it yet, do swing by; it's marvellous) and she dashed right off. Not sure if to try to stop him or to watch, if I'm honest. I expect she'll be back soon."
"Then you'd better go before she catches you with her sweets," Collins suggested.
"Hmm. Aah. But you see, I fear I am already caught," Dumbledore said, looking left to the mural where a determined looking speck was whizzing across the sky, getting larger every second. "I shall be seeing you. Good luck with your studies!" He darted back towards the fire, shrinking and losing detail as he moved from the foreground to the background, before taking a pinch of painted floo powder, shouting 'Headmistress' office!' and disappearing into the flames.
From the left, a witch burst in and landed her broomstick, which she propped up against the gold gilt frame. Harry recognised her instantly. Emmeline Vance. A fearsome witch and long-serving member of the Order of the Phoenix, before her recent untimely death.
She shooed the cat off the desk and, pointedly, closed a drawer that was not quite closed fully with a snick.
"He is a terror, I tell you," she said to Collins. "I swear he rivals the poltergeist for mischief. I did get him, didn't I?" She folded her arms and leaned against the desk. The cat wound its way around her ankles.
Harry chanced a small wave. She nodded at him. Smiled.
"Now then. Password?"
"Wysteria."
The portrait swung open.
Collins pulled at the ends of his bow tie, standing stiffly to attention.
"Welcome to the Dumbledore Den. It has been partially rebuilt from a previously disused classroom, knocked through to extend it to several storage rooms upstairs that have been converted into accommodation. It might be a bit 'fresh paint' and all that, but you'll soon make it your own, I'm sure.
"There are seven dorms, four for the boys and three for the girls. Each of the rooms have three, four or five beds. It wasn't possible to standardise everything exactly given the nature of the space, but the restoration team has tried to ensure there are suitable facilities for you all. Every dorm has its own bathroom, and the largest two dorms have small seating areas in addition to the comforts provided by the main common area.
Any questions?"
No-one did, so with that he simply gestured for them to enter.
Through the metre thick wall behind Emmeline Vance's portrait, the eighth years emerged into a quiet, pleasantly warm seating area. It barely resembled the room Harry remembered. Apart from the vaulted ceiling and the columns, everything was different, even the windows. The carpet running from wall to wall was plush and new, a deep orange with grey speckles - a bit '70s, Harry thought. The Dumbledore House crest festooned the walls in tapestry form, draping down from a balcony that encircled the room. The image of a Phoenix was also carved into the wooden rails at the bottom of two sets of stairs, their beaks hooking down to make the ends of the banisters.
The room was all odd corners and angles - not quite round, more hexagonal, with a few nooks and a window seat on one side. By a roaring fire covered with a black grate, grey chesterfield sofas stood in relief against the glow of the flames. Overhead, there were several small chandeliers, and along two walls, too high to reach from the lower floor, were rows of windows - dark, now.
Bookshelves lined one wall, containing not just books, but stacks of board games as well, and decorated with vases, glass orbs, statuettes and other trinkets. There were a couple of darkly stained fold-away tables with sloping high-backed chairs, padded with studded brown leather, in front of them. There were even a few massive turquoise and purple beanbag chairs dotted around the room.
Professor Collins poked his head in. "Your things are all lined up on the balcony. Owls are in the Owlery; every other familiar is permitted to stay in your rooms - they've been fed and watered. Not that many of you have familiars."
Sev! Harry had half forgotten about her, somehow. He hoped she was alright. And thinking about it, Ron didn't have a pet this year and Hermione had decided to leave Crookshanks with Mrs Weasley, for company. He supposed Neville still had his toad, Trevor. Did snakes like company? Probably not... and she might well eat a toad, even a big fat one like Trev.
The professor continued: "My quarters are on the fifth floor. You just go through the Muggle Studies showroom. I'm not the official Head of House or anything - there isn't one, but you can feel free to come to me if you need anything."
He left. The portrait closed behind him.
Harry glanced over at Ron, who shrugged and threw himself into a beanbag with a whumpf. Hermione immediately gravitated towards the bookshelves and started scouring the titles on the spines. No-one was talking, but many of the eighth years were inspecting the Den like cats sniffing around a new room. Some sat on the sofas. Some milled around the tables. Some poked around upstairs. The Slytherins crowded by the portrait as if ready to bolt at any sudden movements. Harry resisted the urge to shout 'HA!' at them. Instead, he considered his surroundings.
It wasn't Gryffindor Tower. But he had to admit... it sure looked cosy. And it wasn't a tent. If he could get used to that, he could get used to anything.
Harry yawned. He was pretty tired. And he didn't know where he was going to sleep tonight. And he wanted to check in with Severina. Let's get this bit over with at least, he thought. It might take a while.
"Err, should we decide on our rooms?"
Hermione turned. "Good idea, Harry." She was holding a slim novel with a pink cover. She blushed, shoved it back on the shelf and came over. Some others joined them in a haphazard circle.
"Well, uh. What do we want to do?" Harry asked, feeling a bit like he was back in fifth year standing in front of the newly formed Dumbledore's Army.
"I have a suggestion." The Ravenclaw - ex-Ravenclaw - boy named Anthony Goldstein said, raising his hand. "Professor Collins indicated that there were four boys dorms. I've had a look and there are two with four beds, one with three and one with five all along the right hand side, there. If I'm not mistaken, that pretty much takes care of itself."
"What do you mean?" Ernie asked.
"In that myself, Terry, Michael and Oliver can take one of the four. Hufflepuffs can take the other. Gryffindors in the five. And the... Slytherins, they can go in the three. Simple."
Justin whooped. "Nice one, Goldstein. That's all sorted, then."
Harry had to admit, he was glad that he'd get to room with his fellow Gryffindors again. It would have been very weird, otherwise. The five of them were so used to one another's company.
"And the girls?" Hermione raised an eyebrow at the Ravenclaw.
Goldstein nodded in acknowledgement. "You have three rooms. A three, a four and a five. It's up to you how you want to split it, I guess. There's one bed more than you need actually, but some of you will still have to mix Houses."
"I hardly think that will be a problem, will it girls?" Hermione said, looking put out. "We can actually try embracing the spirit of this whole setup, can't we?"
Sue Li, another Ravenclaw, blinked sleepily. "Yes, I don't have a problem with it," she said.
"We want to room together," insisted the Patil twins, linking arms.
"It'll be nice to finally share a room," Padma added.
Tears welled in Parvati's eyes. Having never quite wrapped his head around crying girls, Harry found - as usual - he didn't know where to look.
"Lavender would've loved to room with us," she said, sniffing.
Twang, ouch. Ron also went a bit pale.
"I- I know it's not the same, but I'll room with you," Lisa Turpin piped up, stepping forward to give her a hug. Hermione also offered to join them. They ushered the weeping twins up the stairs.
It was then decided that Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Megan Jones, Isobel MacDougal and Sue Li would take the five. A mix of Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws. That left Pansy Parkinson and Daphne Greengrass by default in the three bed dorm with the spare bed. Harry wondered if maybe a third Slytherin had been expected, but had not turned up. It seemed likely. Throughout the discussion, the five of them had listened in, silent, as if by a mutual pact. 'We pretend you don't exist, you pretend we don't exist.' That sort of thing. Though Harry noticed, of the three of the boys, only Zabini had his gaze focused on the group, his brows knitted together.
"Well, that wasn't as painful as I was expecting," Ron commented as they climbed the stone stairs. "Good of Goldstein to think it through like that."
"Yeah. And the Ravenclaws were good about having to split between the girls' rooms. Makes sense that more of them returned than the rest of us I 'spose."
"I'm just glad we don't have to share a room with... you know."
"Is there another You-Know-Who that I haven't heard about?" Harry quipped.
Ron punched his arm.
"Yeah. Well. You know who."
They reached the balcony and joined the other boys in dragging their things into their respective dorms. Harry looked inside his vivarium but saw no sign of Severina. She was likely under her log again. He and Ron carefully picked her up and carried her into the five-person dorms.
Inside, the room was decorated in much the same way as the Den, but with scatter rugs sporting the House crest on the stone floor rather than carpets. Heavy dark greenish-blue curtains hung around on the four-poster beds, which were made of a near-black mahogany wood. There was a small fireplace with a two-person sofa and an armchair in front of it, both pale violet and the same style as the furniture downstairs. At the end of each bed was a chest of drawers and a small rail to hang up a few things. Beside the beds on one side was a bedside table with a lamp. On the other was a small desk and chair, facing the window. There was a door on one end of the dorm that Harry assumed must lead to the washroom.
"Pretty sweet we've got this room," Ron said. He lounged on the sofa, feet hanging over one end; putting his hands behind his head, he closed his eyes. "It's obviously totally rubbish compared to Gryffindor Tower, but... we never had our own living room and fireplace there, did we - just had that poxing little stove that barely heated up half the place."
Neville wandered over and sat in the armchair. It had winged sides and brass studs along the edges. He was holding Trevor in his lap. "Yes. It's definitely not so bad," he agreed. "I wonder what the other rooms look like? I didn't have a chance to look around."
"'Sure we will at some point."
Harry walked away from the conversation and opened Severina's vivarium.
"Sev?"
She hissed in greeting, half asleep by the sounds of it. "A creature fed me mice." She flicked her tongue against her upturned nose and stretched her jaw, which made her look as if she were smiling. "It was a very nice creature." Harry supposed she was talking about a House Elf.
He picked her up and she wrapped herself around his wrist and hand. Her body felt cool and firm. She had two bulges in her belly from the mice. Her black eyes took in her surroundings, unblinking.
"Listen Sev, there's a toad here that you mustn't try to bite. Or eat. It's Neville pet. Trevor. Do you think you can manage that?"
She bobbed her short head towards him. "Yesss. Toad isss... not my favourite... flavour."
He nodded. "Good. Come on. Let's introduce you to the other guys."
Ron called over.
"Oi, Harry! Whispering sweet nothings to dear Sevvy, are we?"
Neville's eyes popped as if a ghost had goosed him from behind.
"Sevvy?"