Tuesday, September 1st, 1998
This day was a very nerve-wracking day for Hermione Granger. She was the sort of girl who was far more likely to sit quietly in the library than make a grand entrance, and yet here she was. About to stand in front of hundreds of people. She was home, at Hogwarts, but she'd never been more uncomfortable to be around her fellow students in her life. Her hand tightened around Harry's and Ron's beside her, and she managed to straighten her back a little. She could hear the chatter and laughter of carefree students behind the huge oak doors, and her breath caught in her throat a little, as it so often did in the aftermath of the Battle.
The Battle of Hogwarts had been ended that previous May, and the joy at having fought hard and won against Voldemort and his army was still very fresh for everyone. Along with the pain of their losses. In the weeks following the Battle, the Weasleys had distracted themselves from Fred's death by enlisting help from wizards all over the country to rebuild the school. George had spent three weeks alone grieving and rebuilding the seventh floor corridor where Fred had lost his life, and the completion of this work brought him more closure than anyone could have hoped. It had been George's idea to immortalise all of the Order of the Phoenix members and students who had died in the war by engraving the bricks in that very corridor, just past where the entrance to the Room of Requirement had been. Hundreds of names with kind words now glistened a bright gold against the cold grey of the stones. When the setting sun shone in through the west window, the corridor glowed as if heaven itself had descended upon it.
The school was mostly rebuilt by the time it had reopened in September, and its former glory had returned in full. Along with this, many of the 7th year students from the previous year who had either been on the run or in hiding had returned to the school in order to pursue completion of their education, making the school feel far more homely and familiar to Hermione. However, Professor Mcgonagall, the newly enacted headmistress, had felt that the younger students would benefit from seeing the three war heroes all together at the beginning of the year, in tribute to the loss, but also as a sign of strength and a conclusion to the era of war for the students. Harry had utterly refused at first, resenting the attention, but had resigned to going through with it when Professor Mcgonagall had permitted all of the returning young war heroes to stand with them.
So now, as Professor Mcgonagall stood at the head of the Great Hall ready to introduce them, they all sat together waiting to enter.
One by one, they entered the hall. Harry first, and then Ron, and Hermione, Neville, Ginny, and Luna.
The noise was overwhelming. Students were craning their necks and straining their eyes to see the famous group, stood on stools and applauding loudly. For many, this had been the first time they'd seen Harry, Ron, and Hermione since May. Hermione almost immediately noticed the shock of blonde hair sat at the Slytherin table; the only person in the entire Hall who was not looking at them.
"Thank you. Quiet, settle down." Mcgonagall's voice called out to the hall once the six had been seated at a special table set aside at the front. This would not be their normal table once the school year had started properly; they would be expected to retake their seats at their house tables after the Start of Year Feast. Professor Mcgonagall appeared a little overwhelmed by the idea of facing the students herself, seeing only the loved ones they had lost in their innocent faces. "This past year has been harder on Hogwarts School and its students than history will ever truly comprehend. Each of us sitting here today, laughing, eating, learning, and making memories in the safety of these walls owes their livelihoods to the souls lost and the sacrifices made by students no older or more magically experienced than yourselves. But it would be an insult not to call them heroes for that reason alone. And these young heroes, who I am more than proud to say I have taught myself for seven years," Mcgonagall's hand turned to the small table at the front of the hall, "formed the spearhead of our youngest army. I will now hand the floor over to our very own Harry Potter, who I believe has a few words to say before the Sorting Ceremony begins."
Hermione knew that he'd been planning this, but the twitching of his told her he was still far from being a fan of public speaking. The room seemed to intensify with curiosity at his approaching the front-and-centre spot of the room.
"Hi." He began. "You all know me, in one way or another. I knew many of you from long before the battle, and so you will know how much I resent the attention I have always received for things I have no control over. The Boy Who Lived, war hero… unwilling. I know it's odd. But in the aftermath of the horrors we've faced together, and the realistic possibility of this ever happening again, I think that I have to say something." Hermione could see Harry's palms sweating, but he maintained a perfect calm in his face and voice. "I heard a story once of a teenager, no older than me, who drank poison that put him in unbearable pain, knowing he was killing himself, to help in the battle to destroy Voldemort forever. That boy, that brave, noble boy, was Regulus Black. A pure-blood Death Eater. He sacrificed his own life for a house elf, and for the muggleborns sat here today." There were a few uncertain mumbles in the audience, but when he spoke again, Hermione was sure she'd have been able to hear a pin drop. "I know another story of a man, a very brave man that fell in love with a muggleborn girl as a child, and gave his life fighting to protect her and her legacy almost eighteen years after she had died at the hands of Voldemort. He single-handedly fooled Voldemort's entire army into believing he was on their side, whilst working all the time to bring him down. He was a Slytherin, an inner circle Death Eater, and right-hand man of Voldemort himself. That man was Severus Snape." There was absolute silence from the students in the Great Hall.
"I realised over the last few months that the reason this school is so loved, and also so hated, is because of the traditions we have here. The Quidditch matches, the houses, the rivalries, and the friendships I've made have been some of my most cherished memories, and in light of the rebuilding of the school, I think these also must be re-established. However, I'm going to make it my personal aim to include every house fairly in the traditions. I will give every member of every house the chance to evolve into better versions of themselves, and put an end to the stigma and stereotypes that started this war in the first place."
All eyes followed him as he walked to the left-most side of the hall, remaining at the front and speaking in a more confident tone than Hermione had ever heard him use. She was positive he was trembling on the inside, but he didn't let it show.
"Slytherin House. Former and future members of Slytherin House. This is your formal invitation to join every other House in a place of honour in the war. These war heroes were Slytherin inside and out, and that will not be forgotten. Your house is built on ambition, cunning, and pride, not blood purity, and I will not let it stand for that anymore. In light of this, before I came down here today, I went to the Headmaster's study with my friend Hermione, and together we worked out a spell to alter the Sorting Hat just slightly. From this year forward, Slytherin House will be accepting students of any blood status, and regardless of background."
Draco Malfoy felt as if he'd quite like to be swallowed by the floor.
Potter's words hung in the air like fog. Draco could feel all eyes from across all of the Houses turn towards him and his friends, other known ex-Death Eaters who had chosen to return to the school, which were decidedly few, waiting for one of them to make any sign of distaste for the announcement. Draco froze his face into place, and continued staring straight ahead towards the front of the room. He would not be broken now. He'd known this would be hard.
Himself, Vincent Crabbe, and Theodore Nott were the only initiated ex-Death Eaters who had been forced to return into education, Crabbe for his lack of qualifications in anything besides human cruelty and Nott because both of his parents had been indicted and imprisoned for life, so he'd needed the food and shelter. Of course, there were other children of Death Eaters who still attended the school; but none who had been followers of the Dark Lord themselves, Griselda Gwendolyn, Steve Slinkhard, Bertrand Runcorn, and Fraiser Hewlett, to name a few. Nott and Crabbe were among the very few Death Eaters who had been put on parole for three months and then released due to their lack of actual involvement with Death Eater activity. Most of the Slytherins who hadn't been Death Eaters had also preferred to simply blend into society after the war instead of coming back to school, such as Pansy and Zabini.
Draco, unlike his friends, had not been given any form of choice in his reappearance at Hogwarts. His parents, Lucius and Narcissa, had been tried along with other Death Eaters, and been acquitted due to Narcissa's sparing of Harry Potter during the Battle; Narcissa's lie had kept Potter alive to end the war. Because of this, there were still many, many wizards who believed Draco's parents should be in Azkaban with all the other Death Eaters. Their reputation had been utterly shattered in good wizarding society by the ending of the war, despite their continued wealth, and so his mother had insisted that he come back to complete his education, and to clear the Malfoy name as much as possible. Draco, as could be expected, was not exactly ecstatic with this arrangement, and even less so when he found that two of the Golden Trio would be returning to school as well, but he could hardly protest. To his relief, Ron Weasley had declined to return to school after being offered a permanent position as an Auror trainer, so he would only have to face Hero Potter and Know-It-All Granger this year.
He sat listening to the rest of the introductory speech without rapt attention, ignoring the glances towards his end of the table once again when Bellamy, Francesca, the very first muggle-born ever, was sorted into Slytherin. She received much more enthusiastic applause than any of the other first year students did, with claps coming from all four tables and the High Table at the front as well. Once the Sorting was over, with four muggleborns in total ending up in Slytherin House, and the feast had been thoroughly enjoyed, Draco stood to exit the Hall. He kept his head down, just like his mother had told him to, and did not say a word all the way out of the Hall.
Five figures slithered onto the rolling grounds of Hogwarts, in the shadow of the school that housed them. They made no sound, gliding against the grass as if enclosed in smoke as they made their way back up towards the castle. The Forest loomed behind them, but they were not afraid. The darkness had welcomed them, as it would do every night that they would make this journey.
As they neared the castle, their quiet, solemn conversation deadened, at its natural end. The tallest of the group, their default leader stopped ahead and turned to face his followers.
"An unsuccessful night then." He appraised them stoically. His audience of four dropped their heads. "Well don't look so shameful about it. We try again tomorrow, same time." And he turned to leave.
"But-"
Theodore Nott spun around sharply, surprising the pallid girl who had protested, but he raised an eyebrow when she silenced herself. "Spit it out."
"What if we don't find it? The Forest is huge!" She exclaimed.
"Then I suppose Potter's little fantasy comes true, doesn't it?" He mocked. "I suppose we'll all go back down to the dungeons and cosy up with the mudbloods and half-breeds, won't we?"
An imperceptible shudder ran through the group.
"No? Nobody wants to go down to Hagrid's pigsty and talk about muggle rights?" He spat. The group remained silent, hardly daring to breathe. "I thought not. Follow my plan. If it takes the next decade of our lives, we will restore the rightful order."
"What if it doesn't work?" The girl spoke again, barely above a whisper. "Even if we do find it, what if it can't bring him back? What if he truly can't return this time?"
Nott leaned in menacingly, relishing in their fear.
"There are always ways for him to return."