Chapter 5: When The Dead Awaken

The trip on the Hogwarts Express was a little strained at first, but they were kept so busy briefing the new Gryffindor Prefects that they found it hard to afford feeling awkward.

The Houses usually held their own meetings every two or three months, depending on the Seventh-years, but there were only two meetings that all Prefects were expected to attend every year, unless something more important than nightly duties and Hogsmeade patrol schedules needed to be discussed. Cho Chang had been elected Head Girl this year, but she still seemed rather withdrawn, preferring to let the new Head Boy Gregory McGuffin, a Hufflepuff, chair the meeting.

Of course, the Prefects' carriage, like the Prefects' bathroom, was a little different from the normal carriages. The seats held the shiny smell of newly polished leather and the carpet under their feet was woven with a mixture of battle scenes and animals in forests or meadows, all in rich colours that made the weaving come to life even though unlike other wizarding tapestries it had not been enchanted. And in front of them, just behind the podium, was the Hogwarts crest, the four House mascots united around a large 'H'.

There was nothing of much interest in the announcements, and Harry found his attention begin to waver about the room. Malfoy was no where to be seen again, and rumours had it that the elder Malfoy had arranged for his son to be brought to Hogwarts via private transport after a hexing incident on the Hogwarts Express at the end of his fourth year. The rest of the Slytherin Prefects didn't contribute much other than to nitpick at the schedules, retreating sullenly into their usual corner after the general meeting was over to carry out their House meeting in whispers, as if they were afraid of the other Houses eavesdropping.

After all that fuss Percy had made about being a Prefect, Harry had found out that Gryffindor House meetings often consisted of discussions on inane things like whether Snape liked acid pops or Professor Sprout could be a Prides fan while Hermione tried her best to get the rest of them back on the topic at hand. And judging from the frequent laughter coming from the other Houses (with the exception of Slytherin), nothing serious was happening either.

Before long, the Hogwarts express pulled into Hogsmeade Station, gleaming scarlet behind a gust of wispy smoke.

It was most relieving to hear the familiar booming voice calling out, "Firs'-years! Over here!" as they stepped down from the train, and even more so to see Hagrid's beaming face as he waved a lantern about.

"Been missing this, I have." He said happily as Harry, Hermione and Ron herded the first-years towards his massive bulk. "Be seeing yeh fer class?"

"Yeah." Ron nodded. "We're all taking Care of Magical Creatures as well this year."

"Any idea who's the new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor?" Harry asked.

Hagrid's grin widened.

"Yeh'll see."

*~*~~*~**~*~*~~*

The four long House tables were already packed with chattering students, the golden utensils gleaming under the light of the candles above a sea of pointed black hats.

"Look! Trelawney's down today." Ron sniggered as they settled down at the Gryffindor table. "I wonder what her Inner Eye had to say about all the first-years getting sorted."

"Probably trying to figure out which one is most likely to die first again." Harry said distractedly, trying to spot Kera.

A quick glance at the high table told him that the teachers missing were Snape, McGonagall and Hagrid. But the sight of the person seated next to Hagrid's large empty chair made Harry forget everything about looking for Snape's charge.

It wasn't her, Harry tried to convince himself. It couldn't be her.

She looked younger somehow without her usual flowery aprons, but there was no mistaking that silvery white hair and that pair of pale blue eyes set in a wrinkled and intelligent face.

Their new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was his dotty cabbage-smelling neighbour who lived two streets away and used to baby-sit him. The one whose death Dursleys' had informed him of so callously.

"But she…" Harry whispered.

"What is it?" Hermione asked.

"The new professor." Harry said, still in shock. "She used to baby-sit me when the Dursleys wanted me out of their way."

"She what?" Ron asked incredulously, turning around to have a better look at her. "I thought you said that was a mad old woman with a lot of cats. She looks pretty okay to me."

"But didn't you say she died last year?" Hermione said, frowning. "It's probably just a coincidence."

"Yeah." Harry agreed, kicking himself for jumping to such a ridiculous conclusion, his eyes still on the professor who bore more than just a passing resemblance to Mrs. Figg.

"We're in a magical school. Anything can happen." Ron shrugged.

"Yes, but people don't come back from the dead." Hermione said primly. "Dumbledore said so."

The great doors opened and the first years stumbled in after Professor McGonagall, lining up in front of the three-legged stool and looking around them with a mixture of nervousness and excitement on their faces. Professor McGonagall set the old Sorting Hat on the stool and stood back. The whole school went quiet as they watched it. Then the hat twitched and the tear near the brim opened wide as if it was about to sing…then shut it up abruptly.

"The Grim!" Trelawney gasped in horror, pointing dramatically at the familiar shaggy black dog that had just bounded into the Hall.

"Sirius?" Harry whispered, his heart pounding furiously with worry and fear.

"That daft mutt!" Ron cursed under his breath. "What is he doing here?"

Fortunately, nobody took notice of the worry evident on the three Gryffindors' faces, since most of the school population was well aware of what the appearance of a Grim was supposed to mean. The purebloods especially were making a rather big fuss, and one first-year actually fainted. Despite himself, Harry found himself grinning at the comical expressions of fear on the faces of the Slytherins, especially Malfoy.

Instead of making for the Gryffindor table, the black dog sprinted as fast as it could go and slid under the staff table, drawing a shriek from Trelawney and Sinstra as it bumped into them in its haste.

"Sorry. He belongs to me." The Mrs. Figg look-a-like said, her voice ringing out clearly above the chaos. The black dog settled down at her feet, tongue lolling out and panting. Harry could have sworn Sirius looked rather pleased with himself for creating such a commotion. But then again, the Marauder probably was.

As the school began to settle down again, the Sorting ceremony continued with a slightly disgruntled Hat. After the first-years had all joined their House tables, Dumbledore stood up to speak, his eyes still twinkling with amusement at Sirius's antics.

"Welcome to another year at Hogwarts!" said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard.

"Firstly, I would like you to put your hands together to welcome our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, Professor Arabella Figg."

There was some scattered clapping, most of the school still rather wary of the assortment of weird teachers they had had teaching the subject. The Gryffindor trio exchanged puzzled and uneasy looks.

"Sixth-years, I believe your Heads of House would like a word with you in your respective common rooms after the feast."

A wave of murmuring started amongst the Houses.

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

*~*~~*~**~*~*~~*

After giving the Fat Lady the password, they entered the Common Room to find Kera was already there, sitting by the fire with Kendra.

"I didn't see you at dinner." Harry said.

She glanced up briefly.

"Professor Dumbledore seemed to think it would be better if my godfather and I were not present at the Great Hall this evening."

Oh, right. Sirius.

"Did I miss anything?" she asked.

"Not much." Harry said, anxious to know what she knew about the strange sensations he had been experiencing. But she didn't seem to be in the mood to talk, and retreated into a corner.

The rest of the Gryffindors began stream in from the portrait hole, and curious as they were about McGonagall's announcement, they got tired after a while and made their way up to their beds, and soon only the sixth-years were left dozing in front of the fire on the squishy armchairs and sofas, waiting for Professor McGonagall.

At almost midnight, the stern professor entered the Common Room.

"Some of you have been chosen for special projects in subjects their professors feel they have potential in." McGonagall told them.

"Too bad this isn't Durmstrang," Ron muttered. "Malfoy would have lots of potential in something alright."

"You will be working from sixth years from the other houses, and I must remind you to be at your best behaviour and not embarrass your house," she looked sharply at Ron. Taking out a rolled up parchment from her robes, she began to read out the list.

"Miss Granger and Miss Ladon, you will both represent the Gryffindor House for Ancient Runes. In addition, Miss Granger will be doing a special project in Transfiguration, Charms and Arithmancy while Miss Ladon will be working on Potions."

"Over-achiever," Ron whispered jokingly to Harry, indicating Hermione. She didn't look too happy about not getting picked for the Potions project as well.

"Miss Brown and Miss Patil will be in the Divination project under Professor Trelawney—" Harry tried to hide his grin at the look on McGonagall's face when the two girls erupted into fits of silly giggles.

"Mr. Longbottom, you will be representing Gryffindor in Herbology." An encouraging cheer from the rest of the sixth year boys made Neville turn very red.

"And Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley have been requested to contribute to the Defence Against the Dark Arts project."

"Me?" Ron couldn't help blurting out. "But I'm not even good at it!"

"That, Mr. Weasley, is for your Professor to judge, not you." She said primly. "Now go off to bed, or you'll all be dozing off in your lessons tomorrow."

As they made their way up the spiral staircase to their familiar round room with the five four-poster beds, Harry couldn't help feeling a little apprehensive.

Well, Sirius is with her, he reasoned to himself. It can't be all that bad…can it?

[A/N: How long did I take to write this again? ^_^|| Sorry about skipping the Sorting Ceremony…writing the Sorting Hat song once was quite enough, thank you. Besides, there were more important things to write about. =)

The Prides is a nickname for the Pride of Portree Quidditch team.

Kaelli Karali: you'll have to read on to find out, won't you? *grins*]