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Part Eight
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Blackie did not seem to like King's Cross Station very much. Harry had been worried that she might panic and run away because of the crowds and the noise, but she merely stuck close to his feet and picked her way delicately across the concourse, an expression of utter disgust on her black furry face. Harry kept casting anxious glances towards her, while trying to balance his trunk on the trolley and keep Hedwig's cage steady on top at the same time.
As he followed the Weasley entourage towards Platform 9¾, Harry thought about his departure from Gatehouse Cottage the previous day. It had been a wrench to pack up his trunk and leave his attic bedroom - it almost felt like home, now, and he had never truly felt that way about anywhere except Hogwarts before. Saying goodbye to Remus, Sirius and his other friends there had been worse, although they had all tried to be cheerful. Remus had explained to Harry that he could not take him to King's Cross, much as he would have liked to see him on to the train. Too many students would recognise their ex-Professor, and his appearance there would cause too much comment. Remus, deeply involved in Dumbledore's plans to resist Voldemort, was trying to keep a low profile, and didn't want the wizarding community discussing his movements. Harry could understand this. Instead, Remus had arranged with the Weasleys for Harry to go to the Burrow by Floo Powder the day before term started. He had spent a sociable evening there, shared Ron's bedroom and caught up on all the Weasley news, before joining them the next morning in their journey to King's Cross.
"Harry! Are you ready?" Mrs. Weasley was waving at him. Harry woke from his reverie and realised he had fallen behind the group. Fred, George and Ginny had already disappeared through the barrier, and Ron was waiting with his mother, looking a trifle impatient. Mr. Weasley had been called to the Ministry early that morning, and had been unable to accompany them to the station. Harry had been well aware of the anxious looks Mr. Weasley had given him during his short stay at The Burrow. He hoped that all the adults at Hogwarts were not going to dog him with the same protectiveness after what had happened the previous term, or his activities would be severely curtailed...
"Sorry - I'm just coming." Harry joined Ron and Mrs. Weasley, making sure that Blackie was still by his side, and together they went quickly through the barrier, glancing around first to make sure no Muggle eyes were paying them close attention. On the other side of the barrier, the Hogwarts Express waited in a cloud of steam, and the platform was the usual noisy chaos of wizards, witches, luggage and animals, with a particularly rowdy group centred around the Weasley twins. Harry's heart lifted a little at the familiar sights and sounds.
"Hermione!" Ron was waving across the platform to where Hermione was standing, clutching a disgruntled-looking Crookshanks in her arms and talking to Neville Longbottom and his grandmother. Talking to Neville's grandmother must have been quite heavy going, Harry thought, because Hermione's face brightened as she saw Harry and Ron, and she excused herself immediately to hurry towards them. As she reached them, Harry noticed the small silver badge which glittered on her robes, and remembered that Hermione was a Prefect now.
"You got here at last!"
Harry was just about to open his mouth to reply when there was a strange hissing noise next to his ankles, and a louder one from Hermione's arms. Blackie and Crookshanks had spotted each other.
"Uh-oh," said Ron. "Watch out, Hermione, don't let your cat eat Harry's or there'll be trouble."
Hermione frowned at him. "Don't be silly, Crookshanks wouldn't do that. He's just curious." She knelt down and held Crookshanks out towards Blackie, keeping a firm grip on him. "We should introduce them. Look, Crookshanks, this is Blackie."
Ron rolled his eyes at Harry, but refrained from saying anything. Harry bent down to stroke Blackie's head reassuringly. She was now eyeball-to-eyeball with Crookshanks, and Harry could have sworn that some sort of wordless cat conversation was in progress. He wondered who would end up as the boss cat in Gryffindor Tower - since both Crookshanks and Blackie seemed to like getting their own way.
A strange, loud rumbling noise now came to Harry's ears. "What's that?" Ron asked, startled.
Hermione stood up, beaming and stroking Crookshanks. "They're purring at each other," she said with satisfaction.
And, much to Harry's surprise and relief, it was so.
Mrs. Weasley hurried over to them at that moment. "Come on dears, you'd better hurry up, you haven't put your luggage on the train yet and it's going in a few minutes."
"You don't have to travel with the other Prefects or anything, do you, Hermione?" Harry asked her as they moved off, remembering how Percy Weasley had liked to remind them of a prefect's importance.
"Don't be silly, I'm coming with you two, of course," said Hermione. A moment later, however, she stopped with such suddenness that Ron crashed into her.
"Look where you're going, Hermione -"
Hermione was looking rather guilty. "I'd almost forgotten - I'm supposed to be seeing if any of the first-years need help getting on the train." She looked appealingly from Ron to her luggage. "Ron - could you possibly -?"
"Oh, give it here," Ron said, in slightly exasperated tones, as he dragged her trunk towards him. "We'll put your stuff on the train, you come and find us when you've finished mopping up the first-years' tears."
"Thanks!" Hermione said gratefully, and disappeared into the throng of Hogwarts pupils. Harry grinned at Ron, and together they towed Hermione's luggage, and their own, towards the compartment where Ginny was waving at them.
Five minutes later, as a breathless Hermione sat down in their compartment and the Hogwarts Express shunted noisily out of Platform 9¾, Harry waved to Mrs. Weasley's diminishing figure and remembered the first time he had made this journey. How strange everything had felt to him then, and how familiar it seemed now. He could hardly believe that he was beginning his fifth year at Hogwarts. Two years from now, he realised, he would be making this journey for the last time.
"Harry! Wake up!" Ron was sounding exasperated again. "That's the third time I've yelled your name. D'you want to play Exploding Snap?"
* * * * *
"I saw Fred and George on the platform," Hermione remarked several hours later, as the compartment door closed behind the witch who sold sweets and snacks from a trolley. "They looked as cheerful as ever."
"Mum gave them a right going-over this morning, didn't she, Harry?" said Ron. "She was reminding them they've got NEWTs this year, you know how she goes on -" Ron did a fair imitation of Mrs. Weasley's voice. "Your whole future depends on your results - you can't afford to laze about this year- NEWTs are very difficult you know!"
Ginny laughed.
"Well, she's right, I suppose," Hermione said seriously, ignoring Ron's disbelieving snort. "They've only got one more year left. Are they still planning to open their joke shop?"
"Of course they are - and Mum knows that perfectly well - I think she and Dad are pretty much resigned to it, actually, so I don't know why she bothered giving them her usual ear-bashing. What difference will it make how many NEWTs they get?"
"They'll probably make a fortune, and you'll all live in luxury thanks to the Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes empire," grinned Harry, and then wished he had not mentioned money. Ron was very sensitive about being poor. To his relief, Ron grinned back.
"That'd be good, wouldn't it? Mum would have to take back everything she's ever said about their jokes."
"Fred and George are taking Apparation lessons this year as well," Ginny put in, stroking Blackie, who was stretched out comfortably on the seat next to her, purring. "Professor McGonagall teaches that."
"Yeah." Ron looked envious. "Lucky gits. Wish I was learning to Apparate. Another whole two years until -"
He broke off, as the compartment door opened again, and three of their fellow fifth-year Gryffindors entered - Neville Longbottom, Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan. There was a chorus of greetings, and they all squeezed up to let the three boys sit down. As Neville sat down between Ginny and Harry, however, there was a horrible squalling, spitting noise, and he leapt up again, looking terrified and clutching the seat of his robes.
"Wh - what was that?"
"You sat on Blackie," said Harry, hastily gathering up his outraged cat and trying to soothe her. She moved on to his lap, but kept up a scolding hiss, fixing her yellow eyes on Neville with a most unfriendly look. There was a growling sound from Hermione's corner as Crookshanks made noises of support.
"Is that your cat, Harry?" Seamus asked. "Looks a bit fierce, doesn't it?" He eyed Blackie doubtfully.
Hermione and Ginny soothed Neville, hiding their smiles, while Ron spluttered with amusement. Harry explained to the other Gryffindors that he had been given Blackie in the holidays - but did not, of course, tell them exactly what had happened on the night Blackie had adopted him. Blackie seemed to make Neville, Dean and Seamus rather nervous, and they did not stay long.
The rest of the journey passed very uneventfully. As the Hogwarts Express steamed into Hogsmeade station, Harry realised that they had not even had a visit from his least favourite Slytherin, Draco Malfoy. Perhaps Malfoy had been rendered more cautious by the severe hexing he had received on the train journey home from Hogwarts last term, though Harry doubted it. Malfoy had been just as unpleasant as ever when they had met him in Diagon Alley. As it happened, Harry had barely stepped on to the darkened platform at Hogsmeade, following behind Ron and Hermione, when his old enemy's supercilious tones reached his ears.
"Good lord, Crabbe, will you look at that? They've given the Mudblood a Prefect's badge - just goes to show Dumbledore'll let any riff-raff lord it around Hogwarts these days."
Draco Malfoy was standing a few feet away, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as usual, and looking down his nose at the silver badge on Hermione's school robes.
Ron bristled immediately, and Harry saw Hermione put a quick restraining hand on Ron's sleeve. "Better hurry up, Malfoy, or all the best carriages will be gone," she said coolly, nodding to where a line of magical carriages waited to take them to Hogwarts. "We can't have a Malfoy riding in just any old carriage, can we?"
Harry smiled at this, but Ron was still scowling at Malfoy. Malfoy would probably have thought of something else nasty to say to Hermione, but at that moment they all saw the giant figure of Hagrid approaching them with a lantern in his hand, and Harry and his friends forgot Malfoy in their eagerness to greet Hagrid, who had obviously returned from his mysterious summer mission.
"Firs'-years this way! Firs'-years over here!" Hagrid bellowed, before catching sight of them. "Harry! An' Ron, an' Hermione! How're you?"
"Fine thanks, Hagrid," Harry said. "Thanks for the crossbow, it's great. You got back, then."
"Ssh!" Hagrid, frowning, put a massive finger to his lips, glancing around. "Can't talk here - come and see me tomorrow, all right?" Harry nodded, as Hagrid looked at Hermione. "Prefect, eh, Hermione? Always knew you would be! Congratulations!"
Harry, slinging his cloak over his shoulders, moved off towards the line of carriages, Blackie at his heels and his friends following.
* * * * *
The enchanted sky in the Great Hall was a cloudless black, dotted with silver stars, and the tables were lit as usual by hundreds of candles floating overhead.
"Quidditch is back on this term!" Fred Weasley informed Harry joyfully, as he sat down opposite Harry at the Gryffindor table. "Just asked McGonagall, and she told us."
"We'll have to find a new Keeper," his twin George added, sitting down beside Fred. "You should try out, Ron. You never know, you might get in."
Ron's ears turned a deep red at this comment, and he stared hard at his plate. "Yeah, why not?" Fred said. "After all, what could be better than a Quidditch team with two Weasleys?"
"A Quidditch team with three Weasleys!" the twins chorused together, grinning.
Hermione slid into the seat Ron and Harry had saved her between them. She had been helping to marshal the first-years into a line for the Sorting ceremony. Angelina Johnson, the tallest seventh-year girl and a Chaser on the Gryffindor Quidditch team, joined the table at the same time. She was also wearing a new Prefect's badge, Harry noticed.
"Hiya," Angelina nodded to the Gryffindors she had not seen yet. "Have you seen who's sitting on the Staff table next to Professor Flitwick?"
"No - who?" asked Hermione, as Harry and Ron both turned to crane their necks towards the long table where the teachers were sitting. Harry noticed that Professor Snape was in his usual seat, wearing his usual sour expression. Then he noticed the slim girl who was sitting next to Professor Flitwick, brushing aside a sheet of silvery-fair hair as she chatted to the smiling Charms professor.
"Fleur Delacour?" Harry said. "What's she doing here?"
"She's working here, apparently," Angelina told him. "She's left Beauxbatons now, of course. I heard that she's going to be an assistant to Professor McGonagall - a sort of trainee teacher."
"She said she wanted to improve her English," Ron remembered, gazing rather fixedly at the beautiful French girl.
Hermione sniffed. "I suppose Professor McGonagall is very busy now," she said. "Pass the water jug, please."
Harry found himself unable to look at Fleur without being reminded of the Triwizard Tournament and its' tragic consequences. He thought he would like to talk to her some time, though - he and Fleur had become quite friendly by the end of the Beauxbatons' students' stay at Hogwarts. Thinking of Fleur reminded him of the other foreign champion -
"So, had any letters from Viktor Krum lately, Hermione?" Fred asked mischievously.
Hermione coloured up, and Ron's ears turned slightly pink again. "Um -" Hermione began, but was interrupted by the sound of the great doors opening. Silence fell, as Professor McGonagall led in the line of first-years to be Sorted, and Hermione's face had a chance to cool as they all turned to watch the ceremony.
The Sorting ceremony was another thing that seemed reassuringly familiar, Harry mused as he watched. This year's new pupils looked just as terrified as they tried on the Sorting Hat as he had himself, four years ago.
Only a few first-years had been Sorted, and Harry and his friends were still clapping the first new Gryffindor, when they heard Professor McGonagall call a name which caught their attention.
"Crabbe, Raymond!"
"Did she say Crabbe?" asked Ron, in horrified tones, as a large first-year with a strangely familiar flat nose and pudding-basin haircut shuffled towards the stool and the Sorting Hat. "Please. Tell me it isn't - "
"I think it is, you know," said Harry, nodding towards the Slytherin table. Two seconds after touching Raymond Crabbe's head, the Sorting Hat shrieked "SLYTHERIN!" and Harry saw Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle burst into applause.
"I didn't know Crabbe had a younger brother," Hermione said, over the noise from the Slytherin table.
"Amazing," said Ron, shaking his head. "His parents saw what Crabbe was like, and yet they still wanted another one?"
The rest of the Sorting passed fairly quickly, but there was another name which interested Harry and his friends.
"Patil, Prashant!"
Harry saw the small, wiry boy he had met in Diagon Alley making his way quickly towards Professor McGonagall.
"Oh, that's Parvati's brother," Hermione said with interest. "She's got a picture of him in our dormitory. He looks quite nice, doesn't he?"
"I met him in Diagon Alley," Harry told them. "Parvati says he's mad keen on Quidditch."
"Let's hope he's a Gryffindor, then," said Fred.
"GRYFFINDOR!" They all joined in the applause as Prashant hurried towards their table, where a beaming Parvati was beckoning him to an empty seat. Harry looked across to the Ravenclaw table and saw Padma Patil clapping too. Near Padma, he caught sight of Cho Chang, looking sad-faced and rather thinner than last term, and Harry felt his stomach sink. Last year, he had not been able to look at Cho without a stab of admiration - but that had been before she became Cedric's girlfriend - and before Cedric's death - now, the very sight of her made the burden of guilt settle on him again. If he had not insisted that Cedric take the Triwizard Cup with him -
Thoughts of the Triwizard Tournament - dark thoughts - filled Harry's mind again, and when he roused himself from them the Sorting ceremony was finished and the usual sumptuous feast was filling the table with food and the air with succulent smells.
* * * * *
"I've thought of a good name for Crabbe Minor," Ron said cheerfully, as he and Harry unpacked their trunks in their dormitory. "How about Repulsive Raymond?"
"Mm?" Harry was still pre-occupied. He was looking at the two brooms which lay in the bottom of his trunk - his own Firebolt and his dad's old Silver Arrow. It felt good to have a few more mementoes of his parents with him. He pulled out the photographs of them that he had found at Gatehouse Cottage, and took a quick look at the picture of his mother and her friend Alex. Something about that picture was nagging at him... As Harry thrust it back into the trunk, something hard knocked against his knuckles, and he uncovered the wooden box which held the heavy silver key. Much to Harry's frustration, neither Remus nor Sirius had been persuaded to tell him what the key opened, but Harry had brought it to school anyway.
"Harry, what did Professor Dumbledore say the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher was called?" Seamus asked, looking up from his own unpacking.
"Um - can't remember," Harry confessed, having spent most of the feast and Dumbledore's welcome speech thinking about Voldemort and the events of the Triwizard Tournament. "I just remember him saying something about her not being able to get here tonight, but arriving tomorrow."
"Oh yeah, that's right, it's a woman, isn't it?" said Dean. "Hope she's a good teacher. And not as mad as Moody!"
"Stoddard," said Ron. "That's her name. Professor Stoddard."
Harry pushed thoughts of the false Professor Moody out of his mind, and said quickly, "Oh yeah. I remember now. Well, we'll just have to wait and see."
"You finished yet, Harry?" asked Ron, slamming down the lid of his trunk.
"Not quite," said Harry. "You go down, I'll come in a minute. See if Hermione will play chess with you."
Ron made a face. "You don't think she'll have rushed off to the library by now, desperate to start working for the OWLs? Ah well, I'll go and see." He went out of the dormitory, and Harry hurried to complete his unpacking. It was hard to put anything down on his bed because Blackie had taken possession of it, making herself very comfortable and purring like a rusty barrel-organ. She clearly planned to be the queen of this dormitory. Judging from the occasional glare she was giving Neville, Harry didn't think she had forgiven Neville for sitting on her on the train.
Neville, who was glancing nervously at Blackie in return, seemed rather subdued as he unpacked beside his own bed. Harry wondered if Neville had paid a visit to his parents during the summer holidays. It was terrible to think that they were both insane in St. Mungo's Hospital, thanks to Voldemort's Death Eaters, and did not even recognise their son. Harry felt a wave of sympathy for Neville flowing through him, and made a mental note to have more chats with Neville this term, when he got the opportunity. Now was not a good time, though - not with Dean and Seamus still unpacking and Neville still jumpy at the sight of Blackie.
It did feel good to be back in Gryffindor Tower, though. A homecoming, of sorts.
Harry sighed, closed the lid of his trunk, and went downstairs to find Ron and Hermione.
* * * * *