Dedicated to Corona Moon, for she is the shiz-it, yo. :D
Chapter 4- Unexpected Occurrences
The reception was held under an enormous white tent, with floating candles and fairies creating a mystical atmosphere. Tables were stationed around a dance floor, and Harry and Ron sat in the farthest table from the floor.
"When do you think we can leave?" Ron asked, fiddling with the cuffs of his robes. They were an immense improvement from his lacey maroon set from the Yule Ball.
"It just started twenty minutes ago, Ron," Harry said dully, feeling the exact same way as his friend. The party was beautiful, but with a very limited amount of dancing skills and no girls around the age to even try to ask, it was a bit boring.
"Where on earth is Hermione?" Ron sat up straight and stretched his neck out in search of their friend, "I haven't seen her since the ceremony!"
"That's because," a voice from behind them said. The boys turned around to see Fred Weasley, looking dashing, "George has been attempting to get her to waltz with him from the second the party started!"
Harry watched as Ron's ears boiled and he stood up, gripping the table,
"Where's the bloody prat?"
Fred looked amused, and pointed behind Ron, "They're by the drinks, better hurry—last I saw she was actually considering it."
With that, Ron turned on a heel and marched across the dance floor, bumping into Charlie and Fleur's cousin, Therese. As soon as Ron was far away enough, Fred fell into a seat and started laughing harder than Harry had ever seen him laugh. Apparently, there was something going on that Harry didn't know about.
It was then that George popped up behind Fred, looking triumphant and ready to laugh as well. Harry eyed them carefully, showing how obviously confused he was,
"Oy, Harry!" George said, shaking the boy's hand, "I was having a very interesting conversation with our dear Hermione about the potions we use in some of our products, when my ickle brother Ron strode up, put his hand out to her, and asked her to dance. Glared at me too, hissed something about how I couldn't dance with her."
The twins shared a look, breaking into wicked smiles,
"Now I wonder where he got that idea…"
Harry bit his lip and turned to the dance floor, and lo and behold, Hermione was daintily trying to show Ron how to waltz. They were slightly awkward, but they seemed to be enjoying themselves, even if Ron was as red as a Quaffle.
"This is odd," Harry said, sitting back down. He knew that Ron fancied Hermione, in fact, he was pretty sure that everyone else in the world knew it as well, but when had his friend gotten the nerve to do something like ask her to dance?
"I think we should be named Godparents for this, don't you, George?" Fred said, conversationally, taking a sip of Ron's drink. "Why, if we hadn't lied—"
"Stretched the truth," George corrected, "I was talking to her…just not about dancing."
Harry rolled his eyes and gazed out onto the dance floor again, looking over all of the couples and smiling faces. He wondered how big his parents' wedding had been, he had seen a few pictures, but where had it taken place? Who had come, what was their anniversary?
He sighed, thinking he'd have to write down a list of questions for Remus. The young wizard didn't know why he hadn't asked such simple questions before; one would think that he'd try to find out as much as possible about the parents he never knew.
"Could've asked Sirius," he thought, feeling a cloud of darkness float over his head, "he was Dad's best man, he must've known all of those things…"
"Hey Harry, stop brooding and dance with me!" The cheerful voice of Ginny Weasley snapped him out of his reverie, and he looked up with doubtful eyes.
"I wasn't brooding," he retorted immediately. Ginny raised an eyebrow and the two held a staring contest before Harry realized that they probably looked ridiculous and broke contact with her. She let out another one of her contagious laughs and asked him again,
"Come on, Harry! Dance with me?"
"I'm not very good," he said honestly, only having a few dances under his belt. Ginny shrugged, bunching up her dress so it didn't drag on the ground,
"Neither is Dean, which is why I've put him out of his misery and asked you to dance with me." She sent him a wide and pretty smile, her eyebrows waggling in an attempt to get him to say yes.
Something inside him flipped and because she honestly wanted to dance with him, whether it was because there was no one else or she just wanted to, he nodded, standing up and taking her hand.
Ginny lead him out to the dance floor, chattering about how she couldn't believe Ron had gotten the nerve to ask Hermione to dance,
"After what happened in June, he's sure as hell not going to risk losing anything."
Harry nodded solemnly, then apologized for stepping on her toes. All she did was grin and lead the way, talking to him and smiling, taking his mind off of whatever was bothering him before. He found that dancing wasn't all that hard, and he wondered why it had been so amazingly difficult with Parvati in fourth year. The boy enjoyed talking to Ginny, and when Bill cut in for a dance, Harry was left feeling surprisingly happy.
Seeing that all the people he knew were occupied (Ron had taken up a loud conversation with his brother Charlie about Quidditch and Hermione was looking as if she was having a good time with one of Fleur's cousins), Harry made his way out of the tent, and into the dark summer night.
There were absolutely no clouds in the sky, and because of the distance away from the town, there were no lights to fade the brightness of the stars. He knew he should get back to the party, Mrs. Weasley would certainly have his head for going off on his own, but it was his last night before returning to the hustle and bustle of Hogwarts, the last night of no questions and no strange looks. They had created their own world, one where he could feel safe and at home.
His stays at The Burrow was some of the most relaxing times he'd ever had, and Harry Potter could never thank the Weasleys enough for giving him this sanctuary, for making him part of their family when all he had asked of them was how to get to Platform 9 ¾. He had always thought of what he could do in return for their generosity, and the idea of buying a new house for the family had always been his top choice. Harry knew that he had the money to do so, so why shouldn't he?
But he thought about the laughter that rang through the bedrooms and into the forest in the back, the warm cozy feeling of the living room and the delicious smell spilling out of the kitchen. A new house wasn't needed, just a few repairs here and there; he didn't think Mrs. Weasley would want to leave the house she raised all seven of her children in.
Harry sat on the back porch of the house, gazing back towards the party and into the darkness of the night. Maybe a vacation around the world, I'd give them the world…
Harry hadn't understood the reasoning behind having the wedding the night before school started, but Bill and Fleur and been insistent on it. Even though he had retired to bed early, it was still a strain to wake up before ten and have to actually get things done.
Ron was cursing under the pillow he had thrown over his head as his mother shrieked up the stairs for them to wake up. Harry managed to get up without any complaints, but he did feel Ron's pain.
"Just get up, you can sleep on the train," he said, kicking the side of the bed. A few more curses were muffled by his pillow before Ron finally got up, and he looked as if he had only gotten five minutes of sleep, "What were you doing last night?"
"I think I had a bit too much to drink," Ron groaned, his head falling back to the bed, "Fred—he gave me something, didn't think anything of it…"
"Oh hell, you didn't get pissed, did you?" Harry asked, though he looked immensely amused. Ron covered his eyes with his hands,
"Just a bit," he groaned.
"Well, get over it—your mum is going to have a fit if we're not down there in ten seconds."
Ron whimpered and rolled off of his bed, landing unceremoniously on the ground. Harry put a hand out for his friend and helped him stand up, though he was holding back the laughter he was desperate to release.
The boys managed to get down to the kitchen without any tumbles, though Ron had to stop on the third floor landing to balance himself ("Did you see that? The hallway just spun…"). The girls were already eating breakfast and dressed, and Harry just couldn't understand how they could be so awake, seeing as they had been the most excited of all for the wedding.
"Why good morning, boys. Have a busy night?" Ginny inquired, looking very happy. Harry wondered what had gone on after he left the party, because he eyes seemed to hold a ton of information he wasn't aware about.
"Shut it," Ron moaned, sliding into his seat. The girls shared a sly smile and Harry groaned inwardly; they obviously knew something the boys didn't.
"Hurry up you lot, we have to be right on schedule this year!" Mrs. Weasley called from somewhere else in the house. Ron pushed his palms into his temple, cringing. Ginny muffled a giggle behind her hand and sent Harry a look.
"Yes, we're going by Portkey straight to the Platform," Hermione informed them, "it's rather convenient, don't you think?"
Ron's face plummeted at the prospect of traveling by Portkey, and suddenly, he couldn't quite finish his breakfast. He stood up and rushed out of the kitchen, looking very green. Harry let out a laugh and the girls shared their secret smiles again.
"What an interesting way to start the year," Hermione mused, a bit pink. Harry wasn't sure if he really wanted to know what had happened.
The Portkey had been set for exactly 10:45, so it gave the four little time to mingle on the Platform before they had to get on the train. Finding a compartment was easy enough, but Harry felt incredibly alone as Ron, Hermione, and Ginny all left for the Prefect's compartment.
He took out The Daily Prophet and skimmed the pages, hoping for some news, any news, that might be relevant to a boy who's destined to defeat Lord Voldemort. The only thing that seemed like it could be of some help was that they were sending Aurors to Bulgaria for some searches; maybe Hermione could ask Viktor Krum for some information about that.
"Hey, Harry!" Neville Longbottom greeted, entering the compartment, "You don't mind me joining you, do you?"
Harry shook his head and gestured towards a seat. He didn't understand why Neville would think he would mind; after all, he had become close with the boy the past year and summer. Maybe it was something Neville would have to get used to before he became comfortable.
"Oh, good, I didn't want to come in here when it was just Harry," a dreamy voice said, and Luna Lovegood floated in. Harry sent her a glare. "Hello Neville; how is your grandmother?"
"Oh, she's fine, she talked about our er…excursion to everyone, even bought me a brand new wand!" He flipped it out, looking very proud, "I've been itching to practice all summer, I just feel like a more competent wizard, you know?"
"Well, the wand chose you for a reason, I suppose," Harry said, wondering how someone could have worked with so long without their own wand. It could be the reason behind Neville's lack of…skills in the classroom.
They all chatted for a bit, nothing really was said, just recaps of the summer. Neville had been quite impressed at the mention of Bill's marriage to Fleur; he turned a bright red and found his fingernails very interesting.
The door slid open, and Dean Thomas poked his head in, looking around,
"Oh, where's Ginny?" he asked.
"She's in the Prefect compartment," Harry said, wondering how he could have forgotten; he was her boyfriend, after all. Dean's face took on a look of astonishment and he bit his tongue,
"Really? She didn't tell me that!" he looked rather put off and barely waved goodbye as he left the compartment. Harry supposed that Ginny, in the excitement of becoming a Prefect and Bill's wedding, had forgotten to mention it in her frequent letters to Dean.
"Such a jealous boy," Luna noted, flipping slowly through the latest edition of The Quibbler. Harry and Neville shared a glance, and then shrugged, starting up a game of Exploding Snaps.
The three Prefects joined them about twenty minutes later, though Ginny didn't stay for long after Luna had informed her that Dean had been looking for her. She turned rather pale and shot out the door.
"I'm not too sure I like Dean," Ron commented, not seeming too happy with Ginny's abrupt disappearance.
"You liked him well enough before he was dating Ginny," Hermione countered, raising an eyebrow.
"Yeah, I mean—he's a good fellow and all, but she's so strung on what Dean thinks, and what Dean's doing." He shrugged, fiddling with the clasps of his robes.
"She's just excited, they've only been dating for a little bit," Hermione said, "You do remember she's a girl?"
Ron crossed his eyes in an annoyed sort of way and the subject was dropped. Lively chatter filled the room, and it wasn't until Neville mentioned his Remembrall that Hermione called for everyone's attention,
"I can't believe I forgot, Ron, we forgot!" she laughed, slapping him in the arm. By the look on Ron's face, he still didn't remember what he had forgotten. "About Malfoy?"
"Oh!" Ron cackled, clapping his hands, "Malfoy's not a Prefect anymore!"
The compartment cheered, and Harry felt a bit relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with Malfoy's obnoxious behavior…well, he would have to deal with it, but it wouldn't be as immensely strong as it was last year.
"Don't you lot have anything better to discuss?" Harry knew it had been a bad idea to leave the compartment door open, because Draco Malfoy now stood there, his arms crossed and his teeth clenched.
"Don't you have anything better to do than eavesdrop?" Harry retorted, immensely sick of Malfoy's childish antics.
"I don't need a damn badge to know that I'm better than you, Potter," the blonde boy sneered and his eyes flicked over to Ron and Hermione, "but I suppose the Weasel and the Mudblood do."
Ron snarled and stood up and instinctively so did Harry. Hermione huffed and tugged on Ron's arm, but it was Neville who spoke,
"I really wouldn't mess with anyone in this compartment, Malfoy," he said, moving his wand around in a threatening manner, "we took on some dangerous Death Eaters like your father a few months ago, and look!" he waved his hand at everyone, "We're still here."
Ron let out a laugh and fell back to the seat, shaking Neville's hand, and Harry was mighty impressed with the boldness of the statement. It seemed that the events of last June had affected one of them positively, at least.
Draco's already pale face lost any color it had and he snarled at Neville, looking ready to kill. But instead of firing a nasty comment towards him, he turned his ice-cold blue eyes to Harry, a glimmer of triumph flickering in them,
"How's the dog, Potter?"
Hermione let out the gasp Harry couldn't. His eyes had gone wide and he felt all of his blood leave his face and right down to the sole of his shoes. A freezing shiver ran through his body, and instead of pummeling Malfoy like he wanted to, like he saw Ron was trying to do, he sat, dumbstruck.
It was the same feeling Dudley had given him when he had mentioned his dreams about Cedric last summer, times a thousand. It was that cold, unnerving, and helpless feeling of loss. To have someone intentionally bring up Sirius in such a foul manner hurt Harry more than any injury he has sustained in his lifetime. It was the one thing that could render him speechless: deliberate cruelty against someone Harry couldn't defend. Hermione had been right, he had a hero complex and he didn't know how to fix it.
After Ron disposed of Malfoy ("Where on Earth did you learn such a powerful banishing spell?" Hermione wondered aloud, closing and locking the door of the compartment), Harry managed to snap out of his shock and look down at his hands, anger boiling up at Malfoy and at all of the Death Eaters they had faced in the Department of Mysteries. If it weren't for them, he'd still have a Godfather to confide in. Malfoy might still be a Prefect, but at least he couldn't talk about Sirius in vain. His friends wouldn't have to tiptoe around the subject; Sirius was a man that loved to smile and make jokes and his name shouldn't bring such uncomfortable scenarios.
"Is it alright if I kill Malfoy, Hermione?" Harry asked, looking up from his hands. He knew his face was a deep shade of crimson, but he didn't care—they had all seen him in worse predicaments anyway. She frowned sympathetically at him, shaking her head,
"Unless you want to end up in Azkaban with his father, no, I suppose its not."
He grimaced, releasing a long sigh through his nose. He leaned his head against the window, watching the scenery zoom by at a tremendous speed. Like the hills they were making their way through, Hogwarts was going to have its many ups and downs this year.
The rest of the train ride was uneventful--Ron and Hermione managed to get along the entire time, and they all quietly made their way out when they were stopped at the Hogsmeade Station. The carriages pulled by Thestrals sat waiting for them, and Ron gasped, looking grief stricken.
"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, looking in the direction of the Thestrals, though not comprehending. Ron shook his head and shot his eyes towards Harry, who understood immediately.
"Y-you can see them?" he asked, morbidly interested. Ron nodded slowly, a disgusted grimace on his face and he backed away slightly.
"Ron," Hermione began, equally as nervous, "you didn't tell me…you didn't tell us you saw…"
"I wasn't sure," he croaked, running a hand through his hair, "I mean, I thought he was, but, he could've…bloody hell."
With a bit of coaxing from Hermione, the trio finally made their way into a carriage, Ron still ashen and visibly shaken. Harry was of course worried, but also intrigued at the reaction of his friend; the Thestrals had frightened Harry because he had no idea where they came from and what they were, but Ron was now certainly aware of the creatures and their job around Hogwarts. What had been the reason behind the shock?
Neville joined them and the conversation was like it was on the train, short and not very interesting. It had started to drizzle by the time they reached the school, and it was a bit of a frantic dash made by the other students to make it into the castle. The four walked slowly, though, Ron lifting up his outer robes to create an umbrella for the much shorter three.
The Great Hall was already full of students by the time they made it in, and they found seats across the table from Ginny, Dean, and Seamus Finnagan at the very end, who were all chatting happily.
"So Harry, when's the first D.A. meeting?" Seamus asked, leaning over the table conspiratorially. "I got an 'O' on the O.W.L.s, thanks to you!"
Harry gawked slightly, noticing that a couple of other Gryffindors seemed plenty interested at the reopening of the D.A. He hadn't thought about the club since he opened his O.W.L.s, but he supposed now that it wouldn't be that bad of an idea, especially with the trouble Dumbledore seemed to have in finding competent Defense Against the Dark Arts Professors.
"I…I suppose I could get permission from McGonagall, or Dumbledore…" he responded with a shrug of his shoulders. He seemed to have pleased Seamus, though, because he nodded and turned to a fifth year Gryffindor, to spread the news.
"Who is the Defense Professor this year?" Hermione wondered, stretching her neck to see the Head Table. They were so far back that it seemed impossible to get a good view of the Professors, but Harry was able to make out one new person. He squinted, and noticed a flash of red hair.
"Oh no," Ron moaned, having mimicked Harry's actions. Hermione was still trying to grab a look when Professor McGonagall came in through the doors with the new batch of first years.
It seemed that the number of first years was growing increasingly larger each year; it was about three times the amount Harry had come in with. They all looked as scared as he had felt, but he couldn't recall a time where he had been so tiny and small.
The Sorting Hat was placed on its three-legged bench, and Harry could barely tell that it had opened its mouth,
"I will not sing for long this year
I believe it's only right,
To just go on with my work
Until all of you unite.
Will you be a Gryffindor
Where future leaders reside?
Or maybe sneaky Slytherin
Where ambition you won't hide?
What do you think of Hufflepuff?
Are you loyal, just, and true?
How about the witty Ravenclaw,
Where you'll learn a lot of new!
I do the Sorting for I must,
But let's all not forget:
The only thing that goes on in war,
Are only the things you let."
The students politely clapped, and though it did not make the point it did last year, it still made Harry think that the Hat knew much more about the world around him than just Dumbledore's office.
"When I call your name, please step up to be Sorted," McGonagall said, unrolling a long sheet of parchment, "Abbot, Gregory."
A little boy who seemed to be petrified stiffly made his way up the steps, and he sat on the stool with large eyes. The Hat was placed on his head, and within seconds it shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"
The blue and bronze house erupted in cheers for having received the first new student. Gregory was welcomed warmly, and Harry noticed that it was Cho Chang that he sat next to.
The familiar flutter in his stomach did not appear, and he was quite happy that it didn't. He knew that the girl had been going through some things, some terrible things, but so had he—he had been able to tolerate people (though Ron and Hermione would be the first to smirk at that) much better than she had. Maybe it was a girl thing, or maybe it was simply a Ravenclaw thing that he just wasn't sharp enough to understand.
Whatever the reason, the next thing he noticed was that she was sitting next to Michael Corner, so apparently their relationship was still intact. He wondered if she had cried to him like she had Harry, but then he supposed Michael wasn't as directly related to the events that traumatized her, so it mustn't be that hard for Cho to open up to him in a…normal manner.
It relieved him, and he felt happy for her. Harry knew she wasn't a nutcase or a hosepipe when she was in the right state of mind. She had been looking for comfort and Harry, who was pushing even his best of friends away, wasn't the person to give that to her. Hopefully she found happiness in her relationship with Michael, and Harry wouldn't have to worry about scarring her for life with his lack of helpfulness.
"Evans, Mark."
Harry's train of thought was immediately derailed as his jaw dropped to the table when he heard McGonagall call his neighbor's name.
"Harry?" Hermione whispered, noticing his concern. He shook his head, watching intently as Mark walked up to the stool and sat down, watching the Sorting Hat being put on his head. The boy looked remarkably scared, but there was determination in his eyes that looked very familiar to Harry.
Was this the reason Mark had been asking all those questions about St. Brutus'? Harry had always been led to believe that there were no other wizards other than Mrs. Figg near him—but Mark lived less than five minutes away, how could he not have known? This could be the reason Dudley had chose Mark to beat up; maybe the Dursleys had an anti-magic sixth sense.
The Sorting Hat twitched and Harry gripped the bench beneath him,
"GRYFFINDOR!"
The table erupted for their first new housemate, and Mark scurried over and slid on the bench next to Harry, beaming.
"Hullo Harry!" Mark said cheerfully, "I knew you didn't go to St. Brutus'! I read all about you in The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts!"
Ron and Hermione shared a look that was a mixture of shock and amusement. Harry was still amazingly bewildered,
"Mark, why didn't tell me you knew about Hogwarts, that you were a wizard?"
The young boy shrugged, his green eyes scanning over the Great Hall.
"You never seemed interested," he said casually, fiddling with the top clasp of his robes, "plus, there were Muggles everywhere, you know, non-wizards? Hey! My dad's sort of like a Muggle, but he knows a whole lot about magic!"
"Wouldn't that mean he's a wizard? Or, is your mum a witch?" Hermione asked, looking impressed with the boy. Mark shook his head, seemingly enjoying the fact that he was already talking with new people.
"My grandmother is a witch, not my mum. She says Daddy is a Squib--a wizard with very little magic power."
"Looks like you have some competition, Hermione," Ron said, already looking tired of Mark. Harry held in his snicker as Hermione's eyes narrowed.
"Well, I'm really glad you're in Gryffindor," Harry said, the initial shock having worn off. Mark's eyes brightened and he nodded,
"Oh yes, I was worried about that. I thought I would've been in Ravenclaw because of all the books I've read, but I guess I was wrong."
A new Gryffindor was Sorted ("Hobbs, Jacob") and Mark's attention was lost as he struck up a conversation with his new roommate.
"Hope we don't have a new Colin Creevey," Ron said with a raise of his eyebrows. This time, Harry couldn't help his laugh and Hermione scolding the two of them, though she was smirking quite a bit.
After the Sorting Ceremony ("Zamor, Valerie" was Sorted into Gryffindor), Dumbledore stood like he always did,
"Welcome back, students! It feels remarkable to be home again, especially after how…eventful last year was." There were a few noises of agreement from around the hall. Dumbledore smiled, looking over his glasses at some of the older students, "As always, the Forbidden Forest is just that: forbidden. We now have Guard Trolls around all of the entrances and near the edge of the forest, so I assure you that you are not getting anywhere you're not supposed to be.
"In lighter news, it is my pleasure to introduce to you our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor, Professor Weasley."
Harry groaned as he realized that the flash of red was the hair of Percy Weasley, and Hermione gasped in complete bewilderment. Ron dropped his head to the table as if complete dead weight, and Ginny covered her face with her hands, her ears fiercely red.
What in Merlin's name was Dumbledore doing hiring a traitor like that? The Headmaster had to have known the problems going on with the family, and to torture Ron and Ginny like this for the rest of the year was incredibly cruel.
"He has the oddest taste in teachers," Seamus noted, shaking his head.
"With that," Dumbledore's voice rang out, "let's eat!"
The plates in front of them magically (of course, how else would they have filled up?) produced an entire meal for them, and the chatter in The Great Hall covered the cursing Ron was doing under his breath.
Hermione placed a comforting arm on his shoulder, and Harry nudged him,
"Maybe you'll be able to 'miss' me and hit him with a curse?" Harry joked, trying to make Ron look up and eat. It worked; Ron looked at him with a very wicked grin and nodded, starting on his food.
