Hogwarts life resumed once more, and 1995(b) promised to be just as hectic and enjoyable as 1995. The fifth years were rushed off their fifth-year feet, and amid all the hustle and bustle the new girl in their midst was hardly noticed at all.
At first the girls in Hermione's dormitory did have a few problems adjusting to living with their new roommate. For someone who had brought no luggage, she had a considerable tendency to scatter her possessions about the floor. And, naturally, she snored. However, once a few strings had been pulled to get a house-elf permanently assigned to their dormitory and the girls had all acquired earplugs, life was running smoothly once more.
Harry couldn't believe the amount of homework fifth years got, which was surprising as he had completed fifth year once before, in the Order of the Phoenix. After sacrificing several night's sleep in his first week to finishing essays and practicing wand movements, he was not best pleased to be woken up at seven o'clock on his first Saturday morning. By Argus Filch, no less.
"Up you get," he roared, dragging off bedclothes and scaring the living daylights out of Dean Thomas. He looked around him with a satisfied air. "Oh, today's the day, my friends. Umbridge may be gone, but Educational Decree number 77 is still around, due to a beaurocratic loophole, oh yes." He poured the jug of water into Neville's bed. "UP! Get out and wait in the common room!"
Unwilling, but too tired to consider staying in any room with a gleeful Filch in it, Harry and Ron trooped downstairs, wrapped in their quilts, to find the rest of Gryffindor house yawning and grousing. Hermione was the only one with enough wits about her to check the bulletin board, and so was the first to find the notice announcing Confiscation Day.
"Folks," she said fatalistically, "if anybody's got anything to hide, well... it's too late to hide it now."
There was a rush to the board, and a general outcry as the Gryffindors realised that by that point all their contraband had been seized – with no advance warning, as the sign had been covered up by the Gobstones Club agenda.
At this point, a smirking Argus Filch and a couple of house-elves emerged from the stairwell, heavily laden. After they had disappeared through the portrait hole, the administering of retribution to the unfortunate Gobstone Secretary was interrupted only by the arrival of a Slytherin seventh-year prefect, who pinned another note to the bulletin board, then pushed her way out through the crowd with her nose in the air.
This note, in Albus Dumbledore's flowery hand, read simply "The following students may come to the Great Hall at half past nine to retrieve their confiscated property. AD." Hermione scanned the list.
"Well, you're on it, of course, Harry... Seamus, Dean... must be those Fred and George novelties they bought over the summer. Lemme see... Ron's not on it, but Lavender is." A squeal came from the audience, and Hermione turned her head to see the distraught girl running upstairs back to her dorm, followed by Parvati. "Lavender – wait – I'm sure you won't get in trouble..."
"Wonder what she's got?" said Harry to Ron, staring.
"Must be that poster of Justin Timberlake," said Hermione, still scanning the note. "He's been enchanted to remove his shirt and put it back on again, on, off, on, off... totally harmless, but it comes under the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts, of course... hope they don't get Mr Weasley down here. Ravenclaws... nobody we know... hey, Draco Malfoy's been nabbed!"
"What for?" asked Ron, peering over her shoulder. Most of the others had lost interest and crawled back upstairs to their beds.
"Doesn't say here. Probably something related to the Dark Arts; practically the whole Slytherin Year's down there for something or other. Well, you might find out when you go to get your stuff, eh Harry?"
Far, far away, Justin Timberlake's tour manager looked on in horror and concern as the teen heartthrob removed his shirt again. "I can't stop, make it stop," sobbed Justin, pulling it back on over his head. "It's been days! Somebody help... why won't you help me??"
Harry, washed and dressed, took a ticket – number 44 - and joined the long, long queue of disgruntled students that led from the Great Hall. A couple of First Year girls in front of him were sobbing in each other's arms, while in the queue behind two Hufflepuff Seventh Years were indignantly going through a thick Ministry of Magic publication on illegal and controlled substances. As he watched, a Ravenclaw he vaguely recognised rushed past with half a bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky and a scarlet face.
Though Harry was worried for the safety of his invisibility cloak and Marauder's Map, he was somewhat reassured when Professor McGonagall strode out of the Hall and adressed the assembled masses.
"Under Educational Decree 77, Argus Filch in his position as Caretaker is indeed entitled to search your rooms for illegal or proscribed objects." Filch, who had followed her out, seemed unreasonably pleased, but the crowd's reaction to this statement was not a positive one.
Shushing them, she continued. "However, as Hogwarts considers all Educational Decrees passed during Dolores Umbridge's residence here to be obsolete, your possessions – any that are not concerned with the Dark Arts - will be returned to you." As she turned on her heel and strode toward the staff-room, cheering and applause broke out in her wake. Filch, who had been present for the announcement, went an odd shade of purple, emitted several loud squeaks, and ran after her.
As the queue began to dissipate, Harry found himself inside the Great Hall, where he was able to see Professor Dumbledore and Madame Pomfrey, locating objects from the large stacks assembled there and returning them to their respective owners. As he watched Madame Pomfrey gingerly hand over a large basin of grey, steaming goo to a small Ravenclaw girl, he noticed to his surprise that Draco Malfoy, looking surly, was the next in line.
"There you are, Amanda," said Madame Pomfrey, looking revolted. "I realise it's all in the interests of scientific experimentation, of course... but do make sure you wear your dragon-hide gloves when you're working with it, and try not to spill ANY, you know what it does to surfaces. And you've added quite enough Stinksap. Come see me when it's ready, and we'll discuss testing." She crossed "Number 41: Amanda Buckett - Unidentified (Possibly Harmful) Potion" off her list, as the small girl hurried away, and turned, looking disapproving, to her next candidate. "Mr Malfoy."
Draco looked, if possible, even more annoyed as she retrieved a magazine from the back of the pile. "Yes, it's porn all right," she said, passing it under one of the more obscure silvery instruments from Dumbledore's office and reading the sticker it printed out. The members of the queue who were within visual range snickered, and Harry could hear the word being passed back to those who couldn't see. He grinned as Draco's face turned an interesting shade of red. "Measures 7.41 on the pornograph." She slapped the sticker on to the front cover of the magazine (titled Wenches) concealing some of the cover girl's astonishing attributes, but not her beckoning hands. "Professor – I believe the standard lecture is in order?"
Dumbledore, who had been wandering around, not paying much attention to the proceeding, now skipped over cheerfully as Draco Malfoy snatched his property and rolled it up in an attept to conceal it.
"Indeed, Mr Malfoy," he said jovially, placing a fatherly arm around his shoulders, "there comes a time when it becomes necessary for a young wizard to give some thought to the birds and the bees. Speaking of bees, did you notice those giant killer bees Hagrid's been breeding?" Draco mutely shook his head, eyes wide.
"Size of your fist!" Dumbledore continued. "If one of those things stung you, your limbs would swell up within minutes and you'd have to roll all the way to the infirmary! Ah, splendid chap, Hagrid. He's done excellent things with pumpkins. I reckon he'll win us a couple of prizes at the wizarding division of the Chelsea Flower Show this year. Well, if that's all... run along there, Mr Malfoy, run along, and remember what I said!" Humming, he settled himself down in an easy chair and flicked through a copy of Sugar that Filch had confiscated by mistake.
Draco, looking confused, backed out the door and ran off in the direction of the Slytherin dormitory, to a chorus of pointing and laughing from the remaining students in the queue.
After some dubious items of toiletry were returned to the first year girls ("Now, you know you can't use the Dark Arts to change the size of your ears, girls, it's very dangerous"), Harry stepped up and was given back his Invisibilty Cloak and Marauder's Map with a minimum of fuss.
He heard Dumbledore say to an unamused Madame Pomfrey, "There's an excellent article in here about lip gloss, Poppy," as he gleefully headed out the door back towards Gryffindor Tower.