Spoilers: Only for those of you who haven't read PoA (what have you been doing with your lives?!)
Pairings: Test your grasp of subtlety and see if you can figure it out...;)
--
Then
"Uh! What a day..."
James cast himself down on the bench next to Sirius. The Great Hall was buzzing with the catchings-up of the Summer Holidays; across the table, Remus had been chatting animatedly with Kingsley Shacklebolt, whilst Peter stared idly up at the hundreds of candles floating overhead.
"Excellent work with Snape on the train, my friend." Sirius grinned.
James gave a what would have been a modest shrug, except he was smirking.
"Thanks. Slimy git asked for it..."
"Lily certainly had something to say about it."
Remus had stopped talking to Kingsley, and was focusing his attention on the dark-haired pair.
"Yeah, well. I don't know what her problem is." James cast it off casually.
Sirius put an elbow on the tabletop, and leaned conspiratorially across towards Remus.
"Saw you eyeing up Ravenstone today."
Remus cleared his throat.
"No, you didn't."
Sirius' grin widened.
"I most certainly did."
"No, you didn't."
"No, I really did."
"You couldn't have, because I wasn't eyeing her up."
Sirius looked at James, and James looked at Sirius.
"We're going to have to school him in the art of women." James said sagely.
Peter snickered.
"Oh, because you'd know all about that, wouldn't you, Jamsie?" Sirius teased.
James's brown eyes narrowed slightly, and his cheeks coloured.
"Sirius?"
"Yes, Remus?"
Remus smiled slightly.
"You know that line you're not supposed to cross with James?"
"I'm coming up to it?"
"No, no - look behind you."
There was a brief pause.
"Oh, that line."
There was a loud rapping sound, and the babble in the Hall quietly simmered out. James leaned back off the bench and glanced down the table.
"Hey look! They're about to start the Sorting!"
The other three sat up, craning their necks to see past the Hufflepuff table into the centre of the Great Hall.
Professor McGonagall was at the head of a long stream of timid-looking first years, idly tapping the registry scroll in the palm of her hand as she walked brisquely towards the dais.
Up ahead of them, tiny Professor Flitwick was already setting down the Sorting Hat on the three-legged wooden stool, were it slumped in a sad sort of way, looking worn-out and crumpled, and its long leather ties dangling forlornly to the floor.
The entire hall waited in silent expectation for a few tense moments, and then, quite unexpectedly, the Sorting Hat straightened up, and opening its torn lips wide apart, burst into full song:
"In ages past, long years ago,
Four close friends stood united,
They shared a common dream to teach,
And so Hogwarts was started.
Brave Gryffindor, said he to them,
'I'll only teach the gallant,
Those who have courageous hearts,
The intrepid and the valiant.'
Sly Slytherin, he said to that,
'Those of purest blood I'll tend,
Descendants of the noblest lines,
With means to reach their ends.'
Wise Ravenclaw, said she in turn,
'I'll tutor those who think,
Those folk who have the sharpest minds,
With wand and quill and ink.'
Sweet Hufflepuff, said she at last,
'I care not who are best,
Who are brave, ambitious or of quickest wit,
For I will teach the rest!'
So step on up and try me on,
For I'm the Sorting Hat,
I'll know just where you ought to go,
There's no doubt about that!
So don't be nervous, don't you fear,
When you sit upon the stool,
I'll know just where you'd fit in best,
In this, our Hogwarts School!"
Rapturous applause broke out in the Great Hall as the Sorting Hat closed its ragged mouth and became motionless again.
"The first years look like they're all going to have coronary arrests!" Sirius yelled over the applause, clapping as hard as he could.
The long column of first years had now pooled around the foot of the dais steps, and were all staring at the Sorting Hat with expressions of horrified amazement.
The noise in the hall gradually subsided to a handful of students competing to have the last clap (Sirius among them), who were quickly silenced under the glare of Professor McGonagall, who after a last cursory scowl that licked over the vicinity, lowered her eyes to the trailing length of parchment in her hand, and called out the first name.
"Ace, Katherine."
A small girl with short, glossy dark hair came timidly forward and perched on the stool, cautiously lowering the Sorting Hat onto her head as though afraid it was about to bite her.
The hat sat in quiet pensiveness for a moment, shifting a little once or twice, and then opening its fraying lips wide apart, cried:
"Gryffindor!"
A huge grin of relief lit the girl's face as she pulled off the hat and bounced towards the Gryffindor table, where James, Sirius, Remus and Peter all sat clapping along with their fellows.
"Aines, Jennifer."
A copper-haired girl took Katherine Ace's place, her large doe-brown eyes like saucers as the hat bent over to look at her so that its threadbare tip touched her nose.
"Hufflepuff!" It then proclaimed in a ringing voice as it straightened up.
"It must be really boring, being a Sorting Hat." Peter remarked to Remus as they applauded. "I mean, sitting in Dumbledore's office all year, with nothing to do except think up songs with different lyrics on exactly the same subject."
"I'd do my nut." Sirius nodded.
"It probably talks to the portraits or Dumbledore whenever it gets bored." Remus said.
"D'you think it's ever needed a thesaurus or a rhyming dictionary when its been making up its songs?" James asked with a smile.
"There's a thought." Sirius said. "Original lyrics by the past-and-present headmasters-and-mistresses of Hogwarts, music arranged and scored by the Sorting Hat."
The long ribbon of unsorted first years grew gradually shorter, and finally, when the house tables sat full and the central aisle empty, Professor Dumbledore rose from his seat at the teacher's table, and stood ready to address the entirety of the Great Hall, his arms spread wide in welcome.
"Ettiquet states that there is an occasion for every word." He said, beaming down at the sea of students. "This is an occasion for two: tuck in!"
Sirius gave a loud whoop and banged his fist approvingly on the tabletop as it suddenly blossomed with golden tureens, platters and pitchers, so that the wooden legs of the tables groaned under the weight of the food and drink.
"Excellent!" James groaned as he leant forward to load his plate.
As he stretched for the ladle in the soup cauldron, Remus' eyes darted to the Ravenclaw table on the far side of the hall. They flitted up and down its length for a moment, and then they rested on their target: a head of long, honey-blonde hair, its owner sitting with her back to him. On either side of her, a boy's head of identically-coloured hair and a girl's head of short black hair.
Sirius glanced up from his lamb chops, and promptly elbowed James in the ribs. Remus sat gazing right past them, one hand still resting on the soup ladle. Sirius cracked a wicked smile and stealthily pulled his wand from within his robe. A second later, Remus started back with a cry as the ladle gave out a loud 'ribbit!'. Peter giggled, and James snorted into his cottage pie.
"You're such a bad liar, Remus." Sirius chuckled, replacing his wand. "You should know you can't get anything past us!"
Remus shot him a dark scowl and ladled some soup into his bowl. He picked up his spoon and went to take a mouthful, but quickly hesitated.
"Please tell me you didn't do anything to the soup."
"Nah." Sirius yawned. "Just to the ladle."
Remus glanced over to where the ladle was now swimming happily around in the cauldron.
"Right..."
"I heard something about a Hallowe'en ball this year." James said, pouring himself a goblet of pumpkin juice.
"Really?" Sirius frowned. "When?"
James gave him a flat look.
"At Hallowe'en, you idiot."
Sirius swatted him.
"No, nest-head! I mean when did you hear about it?"
James waved his hand absent-mindedly, as though he were deflecting a fly.
"Oh, I read it somewhere in the start-of-term letter."
"Well, I didn't see anything about it."
"Look, I don't know where I heard it; I just did!"
"Fine. So I guess that means writing back to our families for dress robes for those of us who weren't benefitted by sudden epiphanies of Divination."
"Just because the little voices are talking to me..."
"Shut up, James."
"Of course, Sirius."
"So, who are you going to ask, James?" Peter piped up from across the table.
Sirius rolled his eyes.
"Well, that's bloody obvious."
James smirked an evil smirk.
"And Remus can ask Astrea Ravenstone."
Remus choked slightly on his soup.
"I cannot!"
"Why?"
"Because. Well...you know why." Remus finished quietly.
"What? Oh, come on, Moony! She doesn't know you're a-"
Sirius clamped a hand over Peter's mouth at the same moment as Remus jerked forward with an imploring hiss.
"Sorry. Didn't think." Peter muttered as Sirius lowered his hand.
"Damn right there."
There was a relieved silence as they all relaxed. Remus became engaged in conversation with Kingsley Shacklebolt again, and once his attention was averted, James leant in, and indicated for the others to do the same.
"Speaking of that," James leant in, and indicated for the others to do the same. "How's it going?"
"Nearly got it." Sirius confirmed with a firm nod.
Peter shifted uncomfortably.
"I'm...um...having a few problems..."
"We'll help you out, mate." Sirius assured him companionably.
Peter ventured a sheepish smile.
"Thanks."
When the students had eaten their fill, and the murmuring of conversation between mouthfuls had turned to laughter and talk on a satisfied stomach, Dumbledore once more rose to his feet to address the hall. In unison, all tongues fell quiet.
"Now that your hunger and thurst has been sufficiently stemmed by those excellent victuals, I crave your attention for a few moments in order to announce a few start-of-term notices: I will begin by informing our first years that the Forest in the grounds is strictly out-of-bounds, and please note that no magic is to be used in the corridors between classrooms, which," Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled. "One or two of our senior students should also know by now, too."
James, Sirius, Remus and Peter grinned at each other.
"Mr Filch, our caretaker, wishes me to remind you that such things as Dungbombs and Stink Pellets will be confiscated if deployed in the hallways, as will a number of other items that can be checked on the list outside Mr Filch's office.
Madame Lorelei would like me to inform all Spellsingers that Choir starts on Friday evening, and to bring their copies of the Opus of Lore with them to the first rehearsal. Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams..."
At the mention of Spellsingers, Remus' eyes found Astrea again. Cantomagi were rare amongst witches and wizards, just like true seers or Metamorphagi. It was the ability to channel magic through singing instead of a wand; from what he had heard, it was an extremely difficult discipline, too. Madame Lorelei was famous for her severity, and for never settling for anything that was less than perfect from her singers. Remus couldn't really fault that, though: he remembered a chorister coming into the Hospital Wing once with a pumpkin for a head because someone had sung a B flat instead of an A natural. Or something like that, anyway - it was quite hard to understand a talking pumpkin.
Remus felt a funny fluttering in the pit of his stomach as he thought about what the others had said earlier, and his cheeks coloured. He hadn't really noticed Astrea until their third year, when they chose their subjects and ended up in the same Ancient Runes class; but since then, he'd found it increasingly hard not to. She was a Ravenclaw - Keeper on the Quidditch team - with fair skin, long, honey-blonde hair and thyme-flower eyes. Aside from Ancient Runes, they didn't have alot of classes together, but Remus had gathered that her strong subjects covered practical classes like Charms, Arithmancy and so on; in Defense Against the Dark Arts, however, she was a fairly average student, and that gave Remus some hope.
He took a deep breath and turned his attention back to Dumbledore's speech, just as Astrea threw a fleeting glance back over her shoulder.
Over the table, Sirius was watching amusedly.
"Dr Potter?" He whispered.
"Yes, Dr Black?"
"Mr Moony's case of chronic lovesickness has just been clinically confirmed."
"How is the patient, Dr Black?"
Sirius thought for a moment.
"Beetroot-coloured, Dr Potter."
--
Later that evening, Astrea sat curled up on her bed, her nose deep in 'Savant's Codex of Rara Avis', whilst her dorm-mates unpacked their trunks. Holly Palmer was carefully adjusting a moving photograph of her boyfriend on her beside-table, and Magdalena Hocks was piling text books out of her old tea chest.
"So're you taking lessons again this year?"
Astrea didn't reply; she had come to a particularly interesting paragraph on Kelpies.
"Rea!"
She looked up.
"What?"
Donna Brown stood across the dormitory, half-way through unfolding a set of robes.
"Are you taking lessons this year?"
"Everyone takes lessons every year: it's compulsary." Astrea shrugged.
"Yeah, but it's O.W.L. year."
The toffee-haired witch set down her book.
"You just want to escape the tyranny of Madame Screech."
Donna made a face.
"Like you don't! She made me sing the whole of that phrase in the concealing spell, on my own, infront of everyone, just because-"
"Because it was a dotted minim on the ninth beat and not a crochet." Astrea finished in a monotonous voice. "Yes, she's a hag, and don't we all know it."
"She doesn't pick on you." Donna said in a slightly resentful tone.
"Not in choir - she saves it up so that she can be excessively vindictive in my lessons. She called me back every evening for a week to practise the top-top E in the 'voxis vocis' spell."
"Top-top E?! But you're a mezzo-soprano, aren't you?"
"Yes."
"And she made you sing the top-top E instead of the A?"
"Yes. She said 'any self-respecting mezzo' should be able to hit a top-top E."
"Bet that stung."
"It does when you're a mezzo who struggles to hit a top G sharp."
Donna smiled and directed her robes towards the wardrobe with a steady, sustained middle C.
"I noticed Lupin was checking you out from the Gryffindor table."
Astrea raised her eyebrows.
"Whatever, Donna."
"No, he really was!" Donna smirked. "Blatantly has the hots for-"
She shrieked as a cushion hurtled from Astrea's side of the dorm.
"Shut up!" Astrea laughed, grabbing another throw pillow from her bed.
"Ugh - mezzo!"
"Ugh - sop!"
"Pillow fight!" Holly cried, leaping in to join the fray, and promptly covering all in the close vicinity with feathers.
"You're so immature! I can't believe they let you into the fifth year!" Magdalena said.
"Get over it, Mags." Astrea grinned, and pelted her with a cushion.
--
Now
Astrea stirred in bed, and inched open her eyes. The bedroom moved into focus, and she found herself half-wishing that she hadn't opened her eyes at all. It was dim and dingy, and the wallpaper was an old, peeling teal-grey colour with a black printed pattern. The drapes at the window were dark too, and hung like ragged cloaks from their rail near the high ceiling. Only a long, oval mirror adorned the far left wall, and Astrea closed her eyes again as she let her head fall back on the pillow: this was not a cheerful way to wake up.
She dozed on and off for a few minutes, but finally resolved herself to surfacing when the desire to sleep any longer wore off; she levered herself up onto her elbows, and swung her legs out of bed. And it was then that she was hit by the smell.
It was an absolutely awful smell, so strong and repulsive that she wondered why on earth she hadn't noticed it before. Clamping her hands over her nose, she carefully slipped off the mattress, and stood up, glancing round for any obvious sources. When she found none, she then got down on her knees, and lifted the covers that hung over the edge of the bed to look underneath. A moment later, she let them fall back again with a shudder.
"Ah! Good morning, dear. How are you feeling?"
Mrs Weasley smiled warmly as Astrea poked her head into the kitchen.
"Good morning, Molly! I'm fine, thank you; it's lovely to see you again." Astrea's smile faltered slightly. "Erm...there's a dead house-elf under my bed."
The red-haired witch turned from the cauldron she had been labouring over with a start.
"What?"
"There's a dead house-elf under my bed." Astrea repeated, indicating upstairs. "I thought I ought to come and tell someone."
Mrs Weasley wiped her hands on her apron and sighed.
"That'll be Kreacher. We were wondering why we hadn't seen him recently. I was going to make you some breakfast, but...oh, never mind! You sit here and have something to eat, and I'll go upstairs."
"Thank you."
Astrea seated herself at the table, and watched while Mrs Weasley bustled about the kitchen.
"What time is it?"
"It's half past twelve, dear." Mrs Weasley replied, her eyes never leaving the slice of toast she was smothering with marmalade.
"I slept in that late?" Astrea exclaimed.
"Well, we let you rest. You had a traumatic time last night."
"Mmm."
Astrea ran a hand through her tousled hair.
"Who else is here?"
"Everyone's out doing things for the Order at the moment. Dumbledore called early this morning to see if you got here alright."
"He came to check?" Astrea smiled. "That was good of him."
"He was worried about you." Mrs Weasley smiled back. "Normally, it's just Remus here; Arthur and I come down frequently, of course, and so do Kingsley Shacklebolt, Alastor Moody, Nymphadora Tonks, and Mundungus Fletcher," She added with some distaste. "The children will be coming in about a week's time, too."
"The children?" Astrea shifted. "You mean your children?"
"Oh, and Harry, and Hermione Granger, too. You know which Harry I'm talking about, of course."
Astrea swallowed.
"Harry...I haven't seen him since..."
"You'll recognise him, don't worry." Mrs Weasley said gently, putting a plate of bacon, eggs and toast and a cup of tea down infront of the witch. "Now, I'll just pop upstairs and sort out that mess. Get something inside you, for heaven's sake!"
Astrea took a bite out of her toast, and watched Mrs Weasley leave the kitchen.
"Well well well," She murmured as she reached for her teacup. "Harry in his sixth year of Hogwarts. Sounds like I've been missing quite a bit..."
--