Barry Potter - Chapter 4
"Harry! Ron! Time to get up!"
Harry moaned and rolled over. Bright light slanted through the window, hitting his eyes. He rolled over again, and found his face against his soft, warm blanket. '10 more minutes...' he thought groggily.
"Ron! Get out of bed! Wake Harry and get yourself down here right now!!"
"Never..." mumbled a pile of blankets on the next bed. Harry laughed in spite of his very sleepy self.
"RON WEASLY! WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!" The mumbling blankets suddenly flew up into the air. When they settled, they revealed a very startled Ron sitting up in bed, staring dumbly at the formidable form in the door way. Mrs. Weasly stormed into the room, followed by a giggling Hermione and a blushing Ginny. Harry pushed himself up onto his elbow, making Ginny blush even deeper. Harry glanced down and swiftly pulled his blanket up around him. He had forgotten that he had taken his shirt off before going to bed. Hermione was doubled over in silent laughter while Harry and Ginny blushed furiously and Ron yawned, swinging his feet out over the edge of the bed.
Mrs. Weasly made sure that both the boys were awake before striding out the door, muttering to herself. Ron stretched and stood, saying, "Well, g'mornin, Harry. Seems that we're awake again."
Hermione rolled her eyes, plopping down on the end of Harry's bed. Ron glanced toward her and Ginny. "Oh, hey," he said, yawning again as he crossed toward his trunk, "What are you guys doing here?"
"Making sure you don't go back to sleep." Hermione responded hotly.
"Fine, fine, keep your head on." Ron muttered, fumbling around for a clean shirt among his school clothes. Harry glanced at Ron. It was amazing how much he had changed in seven years. His scrawny frame had filled out, he was strong and well-formed, and his bright red hair had turned to a much nicer, orangish color. He was by no means handsome, but he was certainly not unattractive. Harry frowned. He had never expected to compete with Ron for girl's attention. He turned toward Hermione, trying to gage her reaction to the change in Ron.
Hermione, Harry realized, was quite pretty herself. Her bushy hair was much straighter now, and she had lost 10 pounds since he last saw her. She was blossoming rapidly into a lovely young woman, and, Harry noticed, eyeing Ron as though she had never seen him before. This was not surprising, though: as he glanced back, Harry saw that Ron, changing into clean clothes, had taken off his shirt.
Harry couldn't believe it. "Hermione, Ginny, would you mind leaving now?" he hissed. Ginny nodded and dashed out of the room, but Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Why?", she asked, not taking her eyes off Ron, who had changed his mind and was looking for another shirt. She winked at Harry, "The show has just begun."
Ron glanced over his shoulder. "God, Hermione! This isn't some kind of bloody, twisted peep show!" he spat, whirling around.
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she looked Ron up and down. She grinned craftily, saying, "My! Someone's been working out!"
Pillows flew after Hermione as she ran giggling from the room. Ron shook his head. As Harry got out of bed, he heard his friend muttering, "Bloody mad, that one. Like a combination of Ginny and Percy, but gone wrong..."
The boys eventually trooped downstairs, well-dressed. Hermione studied them carefully as they strolled into the kitchen. She hadn't seen either of them all summer. Ron, she too realized, had grown quite attractive since 6th year. Harry was, of course, just as handsome as she had left him. He looked a bit distant and distracted, though. Hermione sighed. After the Hogwarts Massacre, what could she expect? Seamus and Neville had been some of Harry's closest friends. Hermione closed her eyes, thinking of her own friends who had been killed. Pravati, Angelina, and Cho... poor girls, it really wasn't fair, they had just been chatting in the hallway. They had been so happy that Angelina was visiting... now they were gone...
Harry slumped down into a chair while Ron grabbed them some fruit. He tossed an apple to Harry and began peeling an orange for himself. Harry looked at the apple, then up at Ron. "What's this?"
"Food. You eat it." Ron popped an orange slice into his mouth. Harry stared at Ron in disbelief.
"What do you mean?"
"Harry. Listen to me. That is an apple. You take small bites out of it. It's good for you."
"Ron, an apple for breakfast?"
"Yeah."
"That's it?"
"What's wrong with an apple?"
"How could you have survived all summer eating apples for breakfast?"
"I don't eat apples."
"What?"
"I eat oranges."
"Good God..." Harry muttered, taking a bite of his apple. Ginny glanced nervously between the three friends. Harry looked stormy, Hermione looked worried, and Ron looked sleepy. She cleared her throat, trying to change the subject.
"Well, at least we'll have good food once we get back to Hogwarts."
The words had barely left Ginny's mouth when she realized her mistake. She froze, terrified. Ron's eyes flashed warningly at her. She glanced at Hermione, and saw that her friend's eyes were still closed. Burning with color, Ginny sneaked a look at Harry. His face had turned stony, his check bulging out where some apple was sitting mid-chew. Slowly, mechanically, he put down his apple.
"No sense of eating now, then." Hermione opened her eyes. Her gaze met Harry's across the table and held it. She felt the overwhelming urge to throw herself into his arms and cry. Harry felt a shiver shoot up the back of his spine. He could hardly believe that the girl in front of him was his dear old friend. He opened his mouth to say something, but a vision of Viktor Krum, Hermione's boyfriend, appeared before him. Harry gulped a little, closing his mouth.
Ron had sat there edgily for a few moments, watching his friends. Finally, he could no longer take the silence. "Well," he said loudly, standing up, "I'm off to get my trunk. The cars'll be here any moment now."
He quickly slipped out of the room and sprang up the stairs. Ginny rose, blushing, and quickly stepped after her brother, mumbling something about school books. Harry opened his mouth again, and Hermione breathed in sharply. This was it...
"Er..."
There was a pause.
"What, Harry?"
"Er..."
Another pause.
Harry looked at the ceiling, scratching the back of his head as he searched for words. Hermione gazed steadily at Harry, hardly daring to breath. This could be the moment she had been waiting for...
Harry's eyes sank back to the table as he said, "Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Er..."
'Oh God,' she thought. "Harry, have you got something to say?"
"Yes."
"Well...?"
"Er... Hermione, reckon we should get our things together as well?"
"Um... yeah, yeah I suppose." Hermione flashed a weak smile at Harry, then got up and left the room to check her books. The second she left Harry groaned and smashed his head against the table.
"Stupid... Stupid... Stupid..." he muttered, banging his head softly against the table with each word.
The ride to the station was quiet. In fact, it wasn't until they had all reached the Great Hall that they spoke again. The four of them had come up to the Gryffindor table to find Dean leaning on his elbows, gazing up at the ceiling. Dark clouds swirled across it as rain pattered against the Hall's huge windows. Ron tapped Dean lightly on the shoulder. Dean turned, and they all saw that his eyes were still red and puffy. Ginny pursed her lips and quietly slipped off to find her friends. Ron said gently, "Mind if we sit with you, Dean?"
Dean's face cracked into a small smile. "Sure," he said in a croaking voice, "Sure, always nice to sit with friends. I mean, I would be saving this seat for Seamus, but..."
His voice faded off, and a few large tears slid down his face. Hermione slipped into the seat beside him, pulling his head onto her shoulder.
"It's okay, everything will be fine. Just relax..." She glanced up and down the table. Then, as she glanced around the Hall, it struck her. So many students were gone, afraid to return or... or unable to return...
Ron sat beside Dean, giving him a pat on the shoulder. Harry slid in beside Ron, and the two boys watched the other students file in. Ron bit his lip, trying to conceal the emotion that surged through him as he saw the empty seats not filling up. Harry stared at the Ravenclaw table. He blinked back a tear, then shifted his eyes toward the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy sat, nonchalantly gazing about the room. He pretended not to have seen his enemies come in, but now that they were seated he let his eyes drift over to Hermione. His eyes lit up a bit, and he said to himself, "Good, she came back."
Goyle glanced at Draco, then around the room. "Um, who's back?"
"I wasn't talking to you!" Draco growled, eyes flashing dangerously.
"S-sorry, Draco."
Draco calmed himself, saying coolly, "I'll forgive you this time, Goyle. In fact, I'll even tell you who I was talking about."
Goyle gasped. Draco had never told him anything before. Sure, he had ordered him and Crabbe around, but he never told them what was going on behind that pretty face and evil smile of his. Draco frowned. "What was that for?"
"What was what for?"
"That gasp."
"Uh, nothing."
"Useless..." Draco muttered to himself. Then he said aloud, "I'll tell you, Goyle. I was talking about the charming Miss. Granger over there."
"Why are you glad to see her?"
"Because, you idiot, it means there'll still be a bit of sport this year."
"Oh, right - So it was you behind the killings, then?"
Draco gave Goyle a dope slap, and the larger boy grunted. 'Cor, this is beyond pathetic... Sometimes I wonder if I should put the poor git out of his misery...' Goyle looked at Draco, who interrupted his thoughts to say, "Honestly, can't you remember anything?"
"Uh..."
"Well?"
Goyle furrowed his brow. Draco heaved a deep sigh, then said as calmly as he could, "You know as well as I do that it was Pansy."
"Pansy who?"
"Pansy Parkinson. You know, that pug-face Crabbe thought he was in love with."
"Oh... right..."
"Speaking of him..." Draco glanced over the great hall again.
"Pansy?"
"No, Crabbe. Where is he?"
Goyle frowned, thinking. Then he broke into a grin, declaring proudly, "I know! His father was throw in Azkaban, see, and then he broke out. So the whole family has done picked up and fled to... um... somewhere."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Typical. You know, you amaze me sometimes, Goyle."
"Do I? How?"
"Never mind..." Draco leaned his head on his arm, gazing once again at Hermione.
"You know what, Draco? If you and your-"
"Goyle?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up now."
"Right..."
Harry frowned at Draco from across the room. He nudged Ron, who glanced at him. "Yeah?" Ron breathed.
"Who's Malfoy looking at?"
Ron followed Draco's eyes and soon found his own meeting Hermione's.
"Er... I think Hermione."
Harry started. "What??"
"I dunno, Harry," Ron shook his head, "I've got too much on my hands right now."
"What'da you mean? You're just sitting there."
"Look, Harry, you might not understand this, but people have lives beyond you."
Harry's eyes flashed as he whispered back angrily, "What are you implying?"
"Harry," Ron glanced into his friend's large green eyes, then back at Dean, "Harry, I don't know if you've let everything go or not, but I haven't."
"Let go?"
"Look, Harry, I'm really tired. I don't want to talk about it right now."
Harry gave a little huff and settled back into his chair. The room was quiet as everyone watched the first years file in. Hermione's eyes flicked over them as they bobbed toward the front of the hall. There were so few of them. People were still scared. Her eyes suddenly lit on the last figures entering the hall. One was Professor Snape, looking gloomier and crankier than ever. Dean looked toward him, frowning. "Where's McGonagall?"
Hermione frowned, shaking her head as she studied the figure directly before Snape. It was a hooded figure, quite tall, walking silently behind the new students. The hood was drawn down, casting a shadow over the face. Hermione tried to make out the outline of the walker's profile, but the delicate lines were lost in the dim hall. Ron leaned over to Hermione, whispering, "Any idea who the cloak is?"
"No, you?"
"None. Dean?"
"Haven't the foggiest. Harry?"
Harry watched the form ascend the stairs to the stage, each step measured and sure. Something about those even steps made Harry shiver with fear. It was as though this mystery person had sent a black chill into his heart. "I don't know, but I don't like him one bit."
"Him?"
"Yeah, it's a him."
"Pretty nice figure for a him," Dean pointed out.
"Hmm... still a him. And I think he's evil."
Despite the situation, Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break..." he muttered to himself.
The Sorting Hat was on the stool, but it wasn't singing. Snape glowered around the room. He unfurled the list of names. "Ardale, Scott."
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Hermione frowned. "Why didn't the Hat sing?"
"Dunno," Ron replied, "Maybe it's sick."
"Ron?"
"What?"
"Hats can't get sick."
"Bet you thought hats couldn't talk either."
"Boyle, Sarah."
"SLYTHERIN!"
The friends watched the students slowly dwindle off the stage. There was polite applause as they all hurried, one by one, to their seats. Finally, "Ziggle, Patricia" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and the cloaked figure alone remained standing behind Snape. The figure glanced over its shoulder at the staff table. Harry shuddered as its gaze swept over him. He realized now why it made him afraid: it looked like a young Death Eater or a very small dementor.
Dumbledore rose majestically, eyes flickering sadly over the room from behind his half-moon spectacles. He paused, taking hold over his emotions, before beginning, "My dear students, I would like to make a few announcements. Firstly, I regret to inform you that our Dark Arts instructor, Professor Moody, and our Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, will not be able to attend school this year. Instead, you will have Professor Snape as your Dark Arts and Potions master, and classes taught by Professor McGonagall will become free periods."
Snape grinned triumphantly. After all these years, his true talents had finally been discovered. Harry and Ron looked at each other, gulping. They turned to see Hermione's reaction, but she was too shocked by not having Transfiguration to have noticed. They turned back toward the stage as Dumbledore continued,
"Secondly, and before any other announcements are made, I would like to notify you that we will be having a special guest among us this year. Due to the... the unfortunate incident which occurred last year at this school," many sniffs were heard from the students and faculty alike, "We have decided that it is for the good of the student body that we heighten the security level this year. We decided to bring in a specialist, what's more, to bring in someone close to many of you in age. We hope that by allowing her to blend in with the crowd, you will all feel safer, or in the least, less alarmed. Please allow me to present..."
He paused again, and leaned forward toward the figure on the stage. "My dear," he said, "Would you mind taking off your hood? I'm sure all the students are eager to know who you are."
The figure hesitated, but Dumbledore smiled and mumbled something to it no one else could hear. The figure nodded and threw the hood back. Everyone gasped. Before them on the stage stood a beautiful young woman who couldn't have been more than 17 years of age. Long brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her pale white skin shone out against her drab black cloak. But the most striking thing about her was her eyes. Her right eyes was a lovely, almost forest green. Her left eye was a pale but bright purple. As these eyes flashed over the room, Harry felt an unmistakable twinge in his scar. Beside him, everyone else gasped. Harry heard mumbles rising up around him.
"Is it...?"
"Can't be..."
"Couldn't it, though...?"
"Has to be, hasn't it...?"
"I don't believe it..."
"Why would she be here...?"
Dumbledore's own blue eyes twinkled. "Students, please allow me to present..."
"Harry! Ron! Time to get up!"
Harry moaned and rolled over. Bright light slanted through the window, hitting his eyes. He rolled over again, and found his face against his soft, warm blanket. '10 more minutes...' he thought groggily.
"Ron! Get out of bed! Wake Harry and get yourself down here right now!!"
"Never..." mumbled a pile of blankets on the next bed. Harry laughed in spite of his very sleepy self.
"RON WEASLY! WAKE UP THIS INSTANT!" The mumbling blankets suddenly flew up into the air. When they settled, they revealed a very startled Ron sitting up in bed, staring dumbly at the formidable form in the door way. Mrs. Weasly stormed into the room, followed by a giggling Hermione and a blushing Ginny. Harry pushed himself up onto his elbow, making Ginny blush even deeper. Harry glanced down and swiftly pulled his blanket up around him. He had forgotten that he had taken his shirt off before going to bed. Hermione was doubled over in silent laughter while Harry and Ginny blushed furiously and Ron yawned, swinging his feet out over the edge of the bed.
Mrs. Weasly made sure that both the boys were awake before striding out the door, muttering to herself. Ron stretched and stood, saying, "Well, g'mornin, Harry. Seems that we're awake again."
Hermione rolled her eyes, plopping down on the end of Harry's bed. Ron glanced toward her and Ginny. "Oh, hey," he said, yawning again as he crossed toward his trunk, "What are you guys doing here?"
"Making sure you don't go back to sleep." Hermione responded hotly.
"Fine, fine, keep your head on." Ron muttered, fumbling around for a clean shirt among his school clothes. Harry glanced at Ron. It was amazing how much he had changed in seven years. His scrawny frame had filled out, he was strong and well-formed, and his bright red hair had turned to a much nicer, orangish color. He was by no means handsome, but he was certainly not unattractive. Harry frowned. He had never expected to compete with Ron for girl's attention. He turned toward Hermione, trying to gage her reaction to the change in Ron.
Hermione, Harry realized, was quite pretty herself. Her bushy hair was much straighter now, and she had lost 10 pounds since he last saw her. She was blossoming rapidly into a lovely young woman, and, Harry noticed, eyeing Ron as though she had never seen him before. This was not surprising, though: as he glanced back, Harry saw that Ron, changing into clean clothes, had taken off his shirt.
Harry couldn't believe it. "Hermione, Ginny, would you mind leaving now?" he hissed. Ginny nodded and dashed out of the room, but Hermione rolled her eyes.
"Why?", she asked, not taking her eyes off Ron, who had changed his mind and was looking for another shirt. She winked at Harry, "The show has just begun."
Ron glanced over his shoulder. "God, Hermione! This isn't some kind of bloody, twisted peep show!" he spat, whirling around.
Hermione raised an eyebrow as she looked Ron up and down. She grinned craftily, saying, "My! Someone's been working out!"
Pillows flew after Hermione as she ran giggling from the room. Ron shook his head. As Harry got out of bed, he heard his friend muttering, "Bloody mad, that one. Like a combination of Ginny and Percy, but gone wrong..."
The boys eventually trooped downstairs, well-dressed. Hermione studied them carefully as they strolled into the kitchen. She hadn't seen either of them all summer. Ron, she too realized, had grown quite attractive since 6th year. Harry was, of course, just as handsome as she had left him. He looked a bit distant and distracted, though. Hermione sighed. After the Hogwarts Massacre, what could she expect? Seamus and Neville had been some of Harry's closest friends. Hermione closed her eyes, thinking of her own friends who had been killed. Pravati, Angelina, and Cho... poor girls, it really wasn't fair, they had just been chatting in the hallway. They had been so happy that Angelina was visiting... now they were gone...
Harry slumped down into a chair while Ron grabbed them some fruit. He tossed an apple to Harry and began peeling an orange for himself. Harry looked at the apple, then up at Ron. "What's this?"
"Food. You eat it." Ron popped an orange slice into his mouth. Harry stared at Ron in disbelief.
"What do you mean?"
"Harry. Listen to me. That is an apple. You take small bites out of it. It's good for you."
"Ron, an apple for breakfast?"
"Yeah."
"That's it?"
"What's wrong with an apple?"
"How could you have survived all summer eating apples for breakfast?"
"I don't eat apples."
"What?"
"I eat oranges."
"Good God..." Harry muttered, taking a bite of his apple. Ginny glanced nervously between the three friends. Harry looked stormy, Hermione looked worried, and Ron looked sleepy. She cleared her throat, trying to change the subject.
"Well, at least we'll have good food once we get back to Hogwarts."
The words had barely left Ginny's mouth when she realized her mistake. She froze, terrified. Ron's eyes flashed warningly at her. She glanced at Hermione, and saw that her friend's eyes were still closed. Burning with color, Ginny sneaked a look at Harry. His face had turned stony, his check bulging out where some apple was sitting mid-chew. Slowly, mechanically, he put down his apple.
"No sense of eating now, then." Hermione opened her eyes. Her gaze met Harry's across the table and held it. She felt the overwhelming urge to throw herself into his arms and cry. Harry felt a shiver shoot up the back of his spine. He could hardly believe that the girl in front of him was his dear old friend. He opened his mouth to say something, but a vision of Viktor Krum, Hermione's boyfriend, appeared before him. Harry gulped a little, closing his mouth.
Ron had sat there edgily for a few moments, watching his friends. Finally, he could no longer take the silence. "Well," he said loudly, standing up, "I'm off to get my trunk. The cars'll be here any moment now."
He quickly slipped out of the room and sprang up the stairs. Ginny rose, blushing, and quickly stepped after her brother, mumbling something about school books. Harry opened his mouth again, and Hermione breathed in sharply. This was it...
"Er..."
There was a pause.
"What, Harry?"
"Er..."
Another pause.
Harry looked at the ceiling, scratching the back of his head as he searched for words. Hermione gazed steadily at Harry, hardly daring to breath. This could be the moment she had been waiting for...
Harry's eyes sank back to the table as he said, "Hermione?"
"Yes?"
"Er..."
'Oh God,' she thought. "Harry, have you got something to say?"
"Yes."
"Well...?"
"Er... Hermione, reckon we should get our things together as well?"
"Um... yeah, yeah I suppose." Hermione flashed a weak smile at Harry, then got up and left the room to check her books. The second she left Harry groaned and smashed his head against the table.
"Stupid... Stupid... Stupid..." he muttered, banging his head softly against the table with each word.
The ride to the station was quiet. In fact, it wasn't until they had all reached the Great Hall that they spoke again. The four of them had come up to the Gryffindor table to find Dean leaning on his elbows, gazing up at the ceiling. Dark clouds swirled across it as rain pattered against the Hall's huge windows. Ron tapped Dean lightly on the shoulder. Dean turned, and they all saw that his eyes were still red and puffy. Ginny pursed her lips and quietly slipped off to find her friends. Ron said gently, "Mind if we sit with you, Dean?"
Dean's face cracked into a small smile. "Sure," he said in a croaking voice, "Sure, always nice to sit with friends. I mean, I would be saving this seat for Seamus, but..."
His voice faded off, and a few large tears slid down his face. Hermione slipped into the seat beside him, pulling his head onto her shoulder.
"It's okay, everything will be fine. Just relax..." She glanced up and down the table. Then, as she glanced around the Hall, it struck her. So many students were gone, afraid to return or... or unable to return...
Ron sat beside Dean, giving him a pat on the shoulder. Harry slid in beside Ron, and the two boys watched the other students file in. Ron bit his lip, trying to conceal the emotion that surged through him as he saw the empty seats not filling up. Harry stared at the Ravenclaw table. He blinked back a tear, then shifted his eyes toward the Slytherins. Draco Malfoy sat, nonchalantly gazing about the room. He pretended not to have seen his enemies come in, but now that they were seated he let his eyes drift over to Hermione. His eyes lit up a bit, and he said to himself, "Good, she came back."
Goyle glanced at Draco, then around the room. "Um, who's back?"
"I wasn't talking to you!" Draco growled, eyes flashing dangerously.
"S-sorry, Draco."
Draco calmed himself, saying coolly, "I'll forgive you this time, Goyle. In fact, I'll even tell you who I was talking about."
Goyle gasped. Draco had never told him anything before. Sure, he had ordered him and Crabbe around, but he never told them what was going on behind that pretty face and evil smile of his. Draco frowned. "What was that for?"
"What was what for?"
"That gasp."
"Uh, nothing."
"Useless..." Draco muttered to himself. Then he said aloud, "I'll tell you, Goyle. I was talking about the charming Miss. Granger over there."
"Why are you glad to see her?"
"Because, you idiot, it means there'll still be a bit of sport this year."
"Oh, right - So it was you behind the killings, then?"
Draco gave Goyle a dope slap, and the larger boy grunted. 'Cor, this is beyond pathetic... Sometimes I wonder if I should put the poor git out of his misery...' Goyle looked at Draco, who interrupted his thoughts to say, "Honestly, can't you remember anything?"
"Uh..."
"Well?"
Goyle furrowed his brow. Draco heaved a deep sigh, then said as calmly as he could, "You know as well as I do that it was Pansy."
"Pansy who?"
"Pansy Parkinson. You know, that pug-face Crabbe thought he was in love with."
"Oh... right..."
"Speaking of him..." Draco glanced over the great hall again.
"Pansy?"
"No, Crabbe. Where is he?"
Goyle frowned, thinking. Then he broke into a grin, declaring proudly, "I know! His father was throw in Azkaban, see, and then he broke out. So the whole family has done picked up and fled to... um... somewhere."
Draco rolled his eyes. "Typical. You know, you amaze me sometimes, Goyle."
"Do I? How?"
"Never mind..." Draco leaned his head on his arm, gazing once again at Hermione.
"You know what, Draco? If you and your-"
"Goyle?"
"Yeah?"
"Shut up now."
"Right..."
Harry frowned at Draco from across the room. He nudged Ron, who glanced at him. "Yeah?" Ron breathed.
"Who's Malfoy looking at?"
Ron followed Draco's eyes and soon found his own meeting Hermione's.
"Er... I think Hermione."
Harry started. "What??"
"I dunno, Harry," Ron shook his head, "I've got too much on my hands right now."
"What'da you mean? You're just sitting there."
"Look, Harry, you might not understand this, but people have lives beyond you."
Harry's eyes flashed as he whispered back angrily, "What are you implying?"
"Harry," Ron glanced into his friend's large green eyes, then back at Dean, "Harry, I don't know if you've let everything go or not, but I haven't."
"Let go?"
"Look, Harry, I'm really tired. I don't want to talk about it right now."
Harry gave a little huff and settled back into his chair. The room was quiet as everyone watched the first years file in. Hermione's eyes flicked over them as they bobbed toward the front of the hall. There were so few of them. People were still scared. Her eyes suddenly lit on the last figures entering the hall. One was Professor Snape, looking gloomier and crankier than ever. Dean looked toward him, frowning. "Where's McGonagall?"
Hermione frowned, shaking her head as she studied the figure directly before Snape. It was a hooded figure, quite tall, walking silently behind the new students. The hood was drawn down, casting a shadow over the face. Hermione tried to make out the outline of the walker's profile, but the delicate lines were lost in the dim hall. Ron leaned over to Hermione, whispering, "Any idea who the cloak is?"
"No, you?"
"None. Dean?"
"Haven't the foggiest. Harry?"
Harry watched the form ascend the stairs to the stage, each step measured and sure. Something about those even steps made Harry shiver with fear. It was as though this mystery person had sent a black chill into his heart. "I don't know, but I don't like him one bit."
"Him?"
"Yeah, it's a him."
"Pretty nice figure for a him," Dean pointed out.
"Hmm... still a him. And I think he's evil."
Despite the situation, Ron rolled his eyes. "Oh, give me a break..." he muttered to himself.
The Sorting Hat was on the stool, but it wasn't singing. Snape glowered around the room. He unfurled the list of names. "Ardale, Scott."
"HUFFLEPUFF!"
Hermione frowned. "Why didn't the Hat sing?"
"Dunno," Ron replied, "Maybe it's sick."
"Ron?"
"What?"
"Hats can't get sick."
"Bet you thought hats couldn't talk either."
"Boyle, Sarah."
"SLYTHERIN!"
The friends watched the students slowly dwindle off the stage. There was polite applause as they all hurried, one by one, to their seats. Finally, "Ziggle, Patricia" was sorted into Hufflepuff, and the cloaked figure alone remained standing behind Snape. The figure glanced over its shoulder at the staff table. Harry shuddered as its gaze swept over him. He realized now why it made him afraid: it looked like a young Death Eater or a very small dementor.
Dumbledore rose majestically, eyes flickering sadly over the room from behind his half-moon spectacles. He paused, taking hold over his emotions, before beginning, "My dear students, I would like to make a few announcements. Firstly, I regret to inform you that our Dark Arts instructor, Professor Moody, and our Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, will not be able to attend school this year. Instead, you will have Professor Snape as your Dark Arts and Potions master, and classes taught by Professor McGonagall will become free periods."
Snape grinned triumphantly. After all these years, his true talents had finally been discovered. Harry and Ron looked at each other, gulping. They turned to see Hermione's reaction, but she was too shocked by not having Transfiguration to have noticed. They turned back toward the stage as Dumbledore continued,
"Secondly, and before any other announcements are made, I would like to notify you that we will be having a special guest among us this year. Due to the... the unfortunate incident which occurred last year at this school," many sniffs were heard from the students and faculty alike, "We have decided that it is for the good of the student body that we heighten the security level this year. We decided to bring in a specialist, what's more, to bring in someone close to many of you in age. We hope that by allowing her to blend in with the crowd, you will all feel safer, or in the least, less alarmed. Please allow me to present..."
He paused again, and leaned forward toward the figure on the stage. "My dear," he said, "Would you mind taking off your hood? I'm sure all the students are eager to know who you are."
The figure hesitated, but Dumbledore smiled and mumbled something to it no one else could hear. The figure nodded and threw the hood back. Everyone gasped. Before them on the stage stood a beautiful young woman who couldn't have been more than 17 years of age. Long brown hair cascaded down her shoulders, and her pale white skin shone out against her drab black cloak. But the most striking thing about her was her eyes. Her right eyes was a lovely, almost forest green. Her left eye was a pale but bright purple. As these eyes flashed over the room, Harry felt an unmistakable twinge in his scar. Beside him, everyone else gasped. Harry heard mumbles rising up around him.
"Is it...?"
"Can't be..."
"Couldn't it, though...?"
"Has to be, hasn't it...?"
"I don't believe it..."
"Why would she be here...?"
Dumbledore's own blue eyes twinkled. "Students, please allow me to present..."
