When Angels Forget
Chapter 2: "Living Proof"
Harry Potter was thoroughly exhausted as he stepped onto Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters. Sirius had somehow been proved innocent the first week of August—Harry still didn't know the details—and had therefore been able to rescue Harry from the horrors of the Dursley house. However, Sirius was a very active (to say the least) man, and they had spent three weeks touring the wizarding world, which left Harry, understandably, quite tired.
Which was why he was loping along half-heartedly, only too desperate to get on the train and fall asleep. Of course, he was Harry Potter, and fate was not usually his friend, which was why the Weasleys had to come into the whole thing.
The only two Weasleys left at Hogwarts were Ron, Harry's best friend, and Ginny, Ron's younger-by-one-year sister. Despite the fact that in description, their appearances were almost exactly the same—except for the fact that Ginny seemed to have less freckles than any one of her brothers—Ron and Ginny had two quite different personalities. Ginny took after Fred and George, finding it her duty to continue the Weasley pranks after the twins had left as well as continue as a Beater on the Quidditch team (though Harry secretly thought that was only to make her over-protective brothers angry at her), whereas Ron… well, Ron was his own person. He didn't go out of his way for pranks, although he certainly performed them when the opportunity showed itself, and he turned down the chance to try out for Beater on the Quidditch team, which was precisely when Ginny took advantage of the open space and proved to Hogwarts that thin people really could kick Bludger bum. They weren't as different as night and day, but they certainly were their own persons—to put it mildly.
Harry was greeted by a shout from Ron, who was having trouble with his cart, which seemed to be balancing both his trunks and Ginny's (probably the doing of Mrs. Weasley, who was, like Ginny's brothers, quite protective of Ginny), and by an owl which had squeezed between the bars of his cage and escaped, flying into Harry's face.
"Down, Pig," grunted Harry, battering the offending brown owl that was beginning to remind him a lot of a Bludger. "I would have said hello."
Harry finally managed to grab the tennis-ball look-alike and shove him into the cage on Ron's cart.
"Hi, Harry," Ron greeted his less-than-awake friend cheerfully. "How were your holidays? Were the Dursleys glad to find out that no one'd be able to kill you anymore?"
"Come to think of it, they weren't," Harry replied. "I spent the last three weeks with Sirius."
"Right, he was cleared. Perce told me." Ron tried to sound all-important… and failed.
"Yeah. He's a bit too active for his own good. Sirius, I mean, not Percy. Percy…"
"Wouldn't know fun if it bit his thin-bottomed cauldron," finished Ron. "Quite. Sorry you couldn't come to the Burrow this year… Bill and Charlie came home. Along with our grandparents and uncles and aunts and cousins… horrid beasts they are, my cousins. We had to use Temp-Building to house all the family." Ron rolled his eyes, and Harry stifled a laugh.
"Have fun?"
"Loads, when the Cousins—capital C, mind you—were out. And when we played Quidditch. Excellent game, Quidditch is, when you play with nineteen players."
"Nineteen? How'd you manage that?"
"Two Keepers, three Chasers, three Beaters, and a Seeker for each team."
"That's nine. Nine and nine don't make nineteen."
"Well, and the Quaffle."
"The Quaffle isn't a person."
"It is when you give Michael—he's the smallest—a bottle of Bubble-Up every morning in his cereal."
"Hopeless family, Ron, hopeless. Bubble-Up? Whose idea was that, anyhow?"
"Actually, Michael's. He always wanted to live in a bubble."
Their oh-so-interesting conversation was interrupted as a redhead removed two trunks and a cat's cage from Ron's cart.
"Thank you for carrying my trunks, Ron," she said politely, a French accent lacing her words delicately.
"It's not like I had a choice," Ron answered, rolling his eyes again.
"I was trying to be polite," the girl retorted. "Excuse me for my futile attempts."
"Ugh, big words. I can't understand you, Miss Formality."
"Why do you think I use them?" The girl then proceeded to stack one trunk on the other and push them steadily towards the train. Harry watched her go, completely lost.
"Ron?"
"Yeah?" grunted his put-off best friend.
"Who was that?"
Ron looked up at him, disbelieving. "Guess, Harry, just guess."
Harry watched the redhead shove her trunks towards the train, determined. His jaw dropped. "That—that wasn't Ginny?"
"Well, of course it was," said a voice from behind him. Harry didn't have to turn around to recognize Hermione Granger. "Who did you think it was?"
"What happened to her?"
"She," began a disgusted Ron, "got a summer internship at the French Ministry."
"Oh." Harry was speechless. He had seen Ginny growing up, all right, but—well—she had never grown up like this. Somehow, the awkward prankster had turned into a mature young woman overnight, something that rather scared him.
*
"I've been here for thousands of years, Sorted short and Sorted tall," sang the Hat cheerfully, singing yet another new rhyme. It captivated most of the Hall, but Harry, who would usually be fascinated by the Sorting, was staring down at his shiny golden plate absent-mindedly, uninterested in the Hat's song. He, indeed, was more interested in the maturing of one Virginia Lisabeth Weasley, even though Ron would kill him if he knew that Harry's mind was focusing on the red-haired sprite.
"Something wrong, Harry?" Hermione hissed, nudging him. "You look perturbed."
"Tired, is all. Sirius has some lifestyle," Harry said, forcing a smile. Hermione looked unconvinced, but shrugged it off.
"There are three empty chairs at the staff table, you know. You don't think we have three DADA teachers, do you?"
"No," Harry said dully. "Or maybe."
"I wonder why," a puzzled Hermione thought out loud, ignoring his comment.
"I dunno."
"Honestly, Harry," sighed Hermione, "why don't you go live in your own little world?"
"Thanks very much," Harry replied. She looked rather put-off, and proceeded to start talking to Ron instead.
But it's not like I can help it, thought a remorseful Harry, whose thoughts were on everything but his and Hermione's conversation-that-wasn't. It's Ginny's fault, isn't it? The little prankster's gone and decided to play a prank on her brother's best friend by growing up. That's all. It's just an act, really, it is…But then he happened to look at Ginny, who was avidly conversing in French with Larissa Dupont, a girl whose native language was French, and he realized that it was a very, very good act.
He moaned inwardly and turned his attention towards the Sorting, where "Rye, Sellway" was being Sorted into Slytherin and was being followed by "Sabio, Eleanor" being Sorted into Ravenclaw. An accident-prone-looking boy was sorted into Hufflepuff, as was the boy in line after him, who looked to be his twin. A new Gryffindor ("Slugg, George") joined them moments later with a smile and an apparent volatile appetite.
After running through the rest of the first-years alphabetically, McGonagall put away the parchment, levitated away the Hat and Stool, and sat down at the staff table to eat. Dumbledore, taking his cue, stood up.
"Welcome all," he said happily. "I will most likely suffer a great penalty if I do not allow you to eat presently, so for now, all I shall say will be dig in!"
And the overexcited students began to eat as food began to pile onto the plates. A couple of fifth-years well known for their jokes took Dumbledore for verbatim and began to, literally, dig in. Ron was eating mashed potatoes, turkey, and beef stew simultaneously, making for some very interesting flavors, Harry was sure. Hermione was taking dainty bites, but it was proof she had ended the off-and-on boycott of meals and was eating happily. Harry, on the other hand, was picking away at his food and swirling mashed potatoes and corn together to make "mashorn". He took random bites, not really paying any attention to his food.
"You 'kay, 'Arry?" Ron asked through a mouthful of butterscotch. Harry smiled—Ron tried to make meaningful conversations (or at least as meaningful as Ron of all people could get) through food every year.
"Fine. Just—you know—not hungry."
"No, I don't know," Ron said, leaning forward dramatically, captivated but still chewing his butterscotch. "What's it like?"
"Oh, come off it, Ron. I know you've been full before."
"Well, yes," conceded Ron, "but not for very long." Ron's life was based around two things: food and Quidditch. Harry sighed and shook his head.
"Never mind."
Ron shrugged and returned to his meal, having finished his mouthful of butterscotch.
Harry managed to take a few bites of chicken, butterscotch, and a Christmas pudding, but the truth was, he really wasn't that hungry. Sirius had a very large appetite, especially after being starved so long, and they ate three big meals a day—if not more.
Of course, he might have had another reason for not being hungry…
But he wouldn't admit that to himself.
After the food had been cleared and Ron was a few belt sizes bigger, Dumbledore stood with a smile.
"Welcome, everyone! I'm pleased to see that you seem to be enjoying Hogwarts so far, both new and seasoned students," he said brightly, eyes moving slightly towards the sullen, like always, Slytherins. "Most of you, at least. I do, however, have a few announcements for this year, so I will detain you for a bit from going to your common rooms.
"First of all, Slip-Up: The Ultimate Puddle-Making Potion has been banned. I advise you not to use it or any of the other items on the ban lists, or Mr. Argus Filch will have to resort to extreme measures. Extreme measures," stressed Dumbledore. Then he smiled a small half-smile, eyes twinkling from under the half-moon eyeglasses. "Miss Weasley, you could do well to remember this."
This comment was met by a charming smile and a "Who, me?" courtesy of Ginny.
"The Forbidden Forest is, like always, off-limits to all those who feel their lives and sanity are important, and the other side of the lake is, I am sure you are aware, also off-limits unless you have permission from a professor or the Head Boy and Girl who are, this year, Miss Hermione Granger of Gryffindor and Mister Andrew Laurence of Ravenclaw." Cheers from the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables erupted: they knew that the houses gained fifty points for each Head Boy or Girl in said house.
"Also, the faculty has collectively decided that there is a possibility that we will hold, this year, a Yule Ball—" Here Dumbledore was cut off by shouts, groans, and whispers throughout the Hall.
"A Yule Ball? What do they think they're doing?" Ron hissed to Harry, his face flushed. Ron was apparently not looking forward to this, which was no surprise, if you knew about Ron's previous experience with Yule Balls.
"No idea," shrugged Harry. "I reckon we should think about dates if they do decide to have one—"
"I reckon so, as well." Ron sounded miserable, but he soon brightened. "'Mione, will you get me a date?"
"I most certainly will not," Hermione answered haughtily. "Ask out Lavender on your own, Ron. I don't want any part of it."
Ron sighed dismally and looked at the table sadly, causing Harry to roll his eyes at his best friends' stupidity. It really drove him batty, seeing Ron pretend that he didn't like Hermione and vice versa. He had a feeling they partially ignored their interest in one another because they thought he'd feel left out—he didn't tell them that he felt worse when they bickered constantly and walked circles around everything.
"Ahem." Dumbledore cleared his throat. "As well, you may have noticed that we have three empty seats at the staff table. I apologize, but it seems our remaining professors are unable to join us presently, though I assure you that you will meet them tomorrow, when you begin classes. I am unsure, but Professor Lupin, whom I know a few of you have encountered, may be returning to school, hopefully to teach Divination for a while as Professor Trelawney takes a much-deserved vacation."
"Forever, hopefully," Ron muttered to Harry, who had to agree. Trelawney was not his favorite professor, per se.
"As for the remaining three seats, Madam Hooch is currently coaching the Wimbourne Wasps for the year, as their coach, who was her brother, I believe, encountered a veela at the last match…" Dumbledore cleared his throat again, and several students snickered. "We have a temporary replacement, however, who will most certainly be present tomorrow. You have two Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, for reasons you will find out shortly, and as it may be a shock to meet them, I may as well introduce you to—"
Suddenly the massive door to the Great Hall banged open and an exhausted voice called out, "We're here."
All heads swiveled to see the petite redhead who was standing next to a lanky man with dark hair and eyes. They were both dripping wet and the redhead was shooting glares from time to time at the man, who looked very guilty indeed.
Not many recognized them. Some had read books with pictures of them, but those were just books, and the pictures had long since faded into the dreary absences of their minds. Only a few Ravenclaws, who remembered everything, Hermione, who remembered everything, and a Slytherin third-year, who remembered everything, recognized them.
Oh, and our two favorite characters, Virginia Weasley and Harry Potter.
Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth as her eyes widened to abnormal proportions, the same reactions of most of the other students who recognized them. Except, of course, Harry, who stared a bit and then fainted, falling backwards onto the floor in advance.
"Ladies and gentlemen, James and Lily Potter," introduced Dumbledore. This caused nothing short of an uproar. The Great Hall erupted in chaos and nothing could be heard over the din.
"WHAT THE—"
"But they're dead!"
"Hoax!"
"WHAT THE—"
"I don't believe it!"
"WHAT THE—"
"Silence, please," came a loud voice. The student body settled, whispers running throughout the Hall, and looked at Dumbledore, who had apparently cast a Sonorus charm on himself.
"Quietus," murmured Dumbledore, pointing his wand at his throat, the Sonorus charm unneeded since the majority of the noise had disappeared. "This is Professor Lily Potter; this is Professor James Potter," he informed them calmly, indicating the redhead and the man respectively. "I am telling the truth—they are not as dead as you think they are, quite apparently, and if they wish you to know the details of why and wherefore, then I would advise you to ask them in class tomorrow. Since I do believe that we have had rather enough excitement for this evening, will the prefects please lead the first-years to their respective houses, and please leave Mister Potter alone. I will take him to the hospital wing and he will most likely be back in his house before the evening is over. Thank you very much, and I hope your first night at Hogwarts, whether returning or new, is as enjoyable as possible."
With that, Dumbledore waved his hand and dismissed the students, watching them swarm like bees from a hive out of the Hall. Some of the Gryffindors lingered worriedly, but slowly exited the Hall when they saw Dumbledore looking at them.
"Minerva, I will take Harry to the hospital wing," Dumbledore notified his colleague. "Please arrange for Professors Potter to receive some form of dinner in their quarters." McGonagall nodded in affirmation and walked off in the direction of the kitchens.
"Lily, James, I presume you can force your memory back to fifth year and find at least the general vicinity of your quarters?" inquired Dumbledore, eyes sparkling with amusement. Mischievous smiles arose on the couple's faces as they nodded. "There should be a nameplate on your door, if I'm not mistaken. I hope you find the quarters comfortable?" He raised his eyebrow, and Lily and James took their cue to leave. Lily glanced back at her comatose son as they exited, but apparently decided Dumbledore was quite capable of handling the situation and left.
"Well, now Hogwarts has seen it all, hasn't it?" Dumbledore inquired brightly. "Professors include a ghost, a resurrected couple, a lycanthrope… I suppose next we'll be having an undead with us."
But none of the professors answered this attempt to lighten the mood; all their thoughts were focused on a pair of professors who were living proof that death was not always forever.
*
That was weird. Oh yes. Very weird. I apologize if it was too weird for your taste, but I guess it went… okay.
I'm mad at myself, though. I was trying very hard to not make Harry realize how much Ginny has, to quote, "grown". So she "matured". And please note: that wasn't meant to be a physical beauty reference. It means she's more worldly, more elegant, more cultured, etc., etc. Does that make sense?
DISCLAIMER: J.K. Rowling owns all characters, places, items, etc., except for the ones that I own, which are: Michael Weasley, Larissa Dupont, Sellway Rye, Eleanor Sabio, George Slugg and his twin, Anthony Laurence, and… I think that's all. Anything you don't recognize is most likely mine.
I claim no affiliation whatsoever with J.K. Rowling and/or Scholastic Press and copyright infringement is not intended.
Please review… Please… Please… Please… REVIEW…
