Harry watched the last light fade from the carriage windows as they rode in
comfortable silence back to Hogwarts, each lost in their own thoughts. He
found that the darker it got and the closer they got to the castle, the
faster his heart pounded – when he saw the tall spires, sturdy stones, and
smelt the freshness of the lake and the grounds, he stuck his head out the
carriage window and took a deep breath, ignoring the jostling of the
carriage in his armpit.
"I know," Hermione said smiling, "The smell."
"Home!" Harry said joyfully.
Ginny and Ron shared a quick glance, but Harry was too enraptured with Hogwarts to notice.
He watched the clouds sliding lazily across the pale eye of the full moon. "Shame Lupin couldn't be here," he added, feeling heady and drunk on the cool air, the night sky, the stars above North Tower...
"He will be," Hermione said reassuringly.
"I wonder what we'll be studying in Defense this year?" Harry said, fairly squirming to get more of his torso out the window.
"Like a Muggle in Honeydukes, this one!" said Ginny, smiling wryly.
Suddenly, Harry's head felt like it was going to split open. He felt an irrational burst of vindictive joy, quite unconnected to his own. His vision swam, and dimmed, and it was lucky that Ron grabbed the back of his robes, or he'd probably have fallen right out of the carriage.
"Harry!" Ron shouted. Ginny and Hermione had stood up, and were wobbling on their feet. Harry retched over the side of the carriage. He saw out of his peripheral vision that other heads were now poking out of their carriages, and he ducked back in quickly.
"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked.
But Ginny pushed her roughly aside and shook Harry by the shoulders.
"HARRY!" she shouted, "MUM – DAD – IS EVERYONE – THEY'RE NOT – "
"No," Harry said, "it's not them...it's...something else...Someone else...and it's good news...several people are...are coming home?"
"Coming home?" Hermione said quizzically.
"Sure you're not just happy about us coming back to Hogwarts?" Ron asked.
"No," Harry said, "Why would my scar hurt? Why would I be so happy?"
"Well, maybe your scar hurt about something else He was doing, and you were just happy at the time?" Ginny asked thoughtfully.
"No," Harry said, "It was definitely Him, and he's definitely happy."
They squirmed uncomfortably in their seats.
"Well, that can't be good," Ron said lightly.
"I bet – Oh Harry," Hermione said with deep disappointment, "I bet they got out of prison."
"Who?" Ron asked.
"Honestly, Ron!" said Hermione, snorting, "Malfoy! And the other Death Eaters – which were they? I know I stunned Nott..."
"Right," said Ron, "and there was Crabbe and Goyle senior...they both got taken."
"Who was the one with the baby head?" Harry asked.
"Oh...that was...hmm...I think it was one of the Lestranges, I don't know which..."
"They got a bunch of others, too...Rookwood, I think."
"Bellatrix was one of the only ones to get away."
Harry's hands curled into fists involuntarily. The image of her long hair, and heavy-lidded eyes flashed into his head...the sound of her patronizing baby talk...the image of Sirius falling in a graceful arc...Neville's mother pressing a Drooble's wrapper into his hand...she was the cause of all that suffering.
"Don't worry, Harry," said Ron, "The Order's on it. We'll get her."
"I know," Harry said through gritted teeth, "I just hope it's me that gets her first."
Ginny and Hermione shared a look.
"Try to...err...lighten up a bit, Harry," said Ginny.
"Lighten –" but Hermione had diplomatically put a warning hand on his knee, and Harry knew he shouldn't snap at Ginny.
"You're right," he said, "Sorry. I guess I'm not much fun anymore."
"No! You are...you're just...you know, you've got a lot on your mind, that's all."
Harry pondered whether he ought to tell them about the prophecy. He'd come close several times already this summer. But every time he had, he always backed down. It never seemed like quite the right moment. Saying it aloud would just appall them, and that would make it that much harder to bear – plus, he was already enough of a wet blanket. He didn't need to burden his best friends with even more of his whining. Besides, knowing too much could put them in danger...
"Almost there!" Ginny said encouragingly, and Harry snapped out of his reverie to see that the carriages had indeed, arrived on Hogwarts grounds. Hermione was looking at him suspiciously, as though she could sense him holding something back.
"Phwaoorgh...you can smell the kitchens from here!" Ron said, his eyes shimmering joyfully, "That's roast chicken, smell the rosemary?...Mmm, and shepherd's pie!"
"You are a walking bottomless pit," Hermione said dismissively, "Two and half months away from Hogwarts, and all you can think about is the food."
"Now Hermione, is that any way to talk to your boyfriend?" Ginny teased.
"Ginny Weasley, I will hex you if you spread that around!"
"Ooo, I don't know about that...Hermione the Prefect?" she said winking at Harry, "Could you survive if you hexed a student?"
Hermione's eyebrow raised. "The question is, would you survive?" she replied glibly. Ginny giggled as Harry pointed out Ron's scarlet ears behind his back.
They walked under the stone archway, elbow to elbow with their fellow students, hearing the dull roar of laughter and greetings, mingled with the shuffle of robes. They passed through the enormous oak doors into the Great Hall, where the vast stone archways faded into a beautiful blue night, spangled with stars, and draped with wisps of cloud cover. Torches flickered in their brackets, and students everywhere were hugging, shouting, waving, and laughing.
They took their seats at the Gryffindor bench, and soon after, Dumbledore clinked his spoon against his glass. The hall slowly shifted from a loud cacophony to a hushed murmur.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said, smiling gently, "Professor McGonagall? If you please?"
Professor McGonagall came striding up the center of the hall, leading a gaggle of trembling first years.
"Small crowd this year," Harry noted.
"Yeah, they're tiny! Look at that kid with the blond hair, he's got to be half my height!"
"No, Ron," said Hermione, "He means the number – look at the size of this year's incoming class."
It was true – instead of the typical large incoming class, there were only about fifteen students there.
"Well, err..." said Ginny. They all turned to look at her.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she said with a grimace, "I heard Lupin on the Extendables. A lot of students have been deferring their acceptance for a year...I think...I think they might want to...wait until..."
"Wait until I'm out of school?" Harry said dully.
"Well, you and Lupin, yes," Ginny said apologetically.
"Shh!" said a Gryffindor third year to his right, "They're going to start!"
"Oh, hush up, you," said Ron. They all turned to watch McGonagall place the Sorting Hat on a stool in front of the Teacher's desk.
As expected, the hat soon quivered with life, and a rip at the brim opened wide like a mouth – The Sorting Song began:
Oh, welcome back to Hogwarts, your home away from home You second through the seventh years, from whersoe'er you've roamed. But before the feast begins, and we all break our bread It's time for you to place me now on every first year's head. For I can read your every thought, the secrets of your heart And I can tell exactly what sets each of you apart. A Gryffindor's courageous, with bravery in their bones They value all their friendships, and are rarely found alone. A Hufflepuff's a loyal, gentle, and hard-working soul These humble folk will try and try until they reach their goal. A Ravenclaw's intelligent, crafty, sharp, and wise, And Slytherins use any means to obtain their prize. Yet seeing through the years, the souls that live behind your names, I tend to see few differences, and note more what's the same. For every witch and wizard who ever yet did live Had hopes, fears, dreams, and nightmares, and each a gift to give. You're here to be divided, yes, it's that for which I'm made But now's the time when friends are found, and enemies are made. Choose carefully, you first years, which ones you make the most of. Having lots of enemies is not a trait to boast of. And upperclassmen would do well to heed my warning call If the houses don't unite, Hogwarts School will fall. For darkness falls upon us, and it's time for your true test: Will you meet the challenge and unite at my behest? Will distrust and fear point to Hogwarts new direction? Can you cross the old Divides and forge some new connections? Can you push yourself to see the darkness in your selves? Can you stand and fight alongside centaurs, goblins, elves? Can the Muggle and the Magic fight this fight together? Must we live in secrecy, now and for forever? Can the Pure and Muggle-borns reach a new accord? Can we just sit and share our bread across this ancient board? For just an hour, can we try to see the world tomorrow Instead of just the world we know that's wracked with ancient sorrow? Instead of giving answers, I give questions I'm afraid. I'm getting old, I'm getting patched, my edges all are frayed. I do not know the answers to the questions that I ask. The answer is the future, and that future is your task. You are the future of our world, so welcome to it, friends. I just begin the story. It's you that write the end.
The last notes of the Sorting Hat's Song were so low they were practically spoken. The echo of the rasping voice lingered in the air of the Great Hall, then dissipated. Harry looked up at the Teacher's table, and was startled to see that Professor Sprout wasn't making any attempt to hide her shock. She exchanged a stunned look with Professor Flitwick, and Snape sat back in his chair with a finger to his lips as though he had just encountered a particularly puzzling math problem. Hagrid scratched his head with a puzzled expression, and leaned over and muttered a question to Dumbledore. Harry scanned Dumbledore's face. He didn't find surprise written there, but the slightest arch of his eyebrow, almost undetectable, let Harry know that he was, indeed, pondering deeply what the Sorting Hat had said this year. He was snapped out of his intense scrutiny as Dumbledore's eyes flicked over to meet his. Harry thought he saw the tiniest of nods, and he nodded back, though he wasn't quite sure what Dumbledore meant.
"Did you hear the bit about the elves?" Hermione said, her eyes lighting up.
"Here she goes again," Ron said, "Are we ever going to eat? It's hard to unite on an empty stomach."
Harry caught Ginny stifling a giggle, and winked at her.
"Err...First years! Yes, yes, right up to the front," said McGonagall, as though snapping out of a daydream. Hermione pointed over to the Slytherin table. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were huddled with a bunch of other Slytherins, and they didn't seem too happy with what the Sorting Hat had said.
"Aaronson, Arthur," McGonagall said sternly, and a small boy who had an unfortunate tendency to hunch his shoulders walked up to the stool.
The Sorting Hat was placed on his head, and for a while, there was quiet.
"Hmmm..." said the Sorting Hat, "Hmm...Difficult." There was another long pause.
"I can't decide," the Sorting Hat said simply.
There was a stunned silence, which was punctured suddenly by a few giggles. Slowly, other students began to join in. Even McGonagall had a confused smile on her face. Surely this was a joke – the Sorting Hat couldn't possible not decide – that was its job...to decide! Dumbledore, however, was not smiling, but frowning.
"I can't decide," the Sorting Hat repeated, "I'd best try someone else."
The laughter died quickly.
"Headmaster?" Professor McGonagall asked in a terse whisper, as though whispering would conceal the fact that she was without a clue as to what to do.
"Do as it asks, Professor," Dumbledore said quietly, still frowning. For once, you could have heard a pin drop in the Great Hall.
"Yes," said McGonagall briskly, as though she had known that this would happen all along, "Just go to the back of the line, Mr. Aaronson, we'll have another go later."
Looking like he was about to scribble a note to his family and fling himself from the Astronomy Tower, Arthur Aaronson slid off of the stool, and, hunching himself even lower, shuffled to the back of the line.
"Bellenova, Electra?"
Electra Bellenova swished her long black hair over her shoulder, walked confidently up to the stool, and sat herself down like she was going to show that hat a thing or two.
The Sorting Hat was barely placed on her head, when it said, "Dear me, no. Far too close to call. I couldn't possibly."
"Headmaster!" said McGonagall angrily, as Electra Bellenova's jaw dropped to her chest.
"If I may, Minerva," said Dumbledore, standing and walking around the table. There was a collective intake of breath and all the Hogwarts students stiffened in their seats.
"Hermione," said Ron, poking her arm with his eyes glued to the Sorting Hat, "Hermione – tell me what's going on?"
"I...I don't know," said Hermione, "Harry?"
"I haven't the slightest," Harry said, mystified. As far as Harry knew, Dumbledore had never, ever left his seat during the Sorting Ceremony, and surely the Sorting Hat had never done this before.
"I wonder if I might have a word with our Sorting Hat," Dumbledore said politely to Professor McGonagall.
"Err – of course," said McGonagall, handing Dumbledore the hat.
"Why thank you," he said, smiling benignly. Then Dumbledore himself sat on the stool, and placed the Sorting Hat on top of his head.
For a while, Dumbledore simply sat there, every once in a while, arching an eyebrow, or looking up to the ceiling. Once, he scowled at the floor, and stroked his beard.
"Mmm..." he said, and every Hogwarts student held their breath and strained their ears.
"Yes," he muttered quietly, "I see, and yet..." He trailed off, leaving everyone leaning over each other's dinner plates and half-lying across the table trying to get one inch closer to the front of the hall.
"Well, I'm afraid it is, you see..." he said, more insistently. Ginny had actually climbed off the bench and was sitting on the tabletop, leaning forward.
"Well, I think you've made your point," Dumbledore said amiably, but Harry detected that finality in his voice which meant the discussion was over, "Now if you don't mind, I think –"
Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up to the ceiling, and there was actually a collective gasp from the student body.
"I'm afraid it is not your position to lecture to my students, as you are not currently a professor in the employ of Hogwarts School," Dumbledore said, barely audible, and Harry again recognized that friendly tone that whispered of danger. "It is as much an administrative issue as...but I DO see your point."
"Oh!" said Hermione, clapping a hand to her mouth.
"You'd better tell us now before you run off to the library!" Ron said warningly.
"Well, I – I think that the Hat is refusing to sort the first years because...because it wants us to unite. It thinks that sorting the first years into their houses will cause even more division between –"
But Hermione was interrupted, as Dumbledore stood and removed the hat, smiling benignly.
"The Sorting Hat," he said, holding up his hands for attention, "Is not feeling well, and apologizes for any discomfort he may have caused, particularly to you, Mr. Aaronson, and you, Ms. Bellenova," he said, nodding at them.
Mr. Aaronson looked as though if one more person were to look at him that night he might spontaneously combust. Ms. Bellenova on the other hand, smiled and even went so far as to nod back politely, as though Dumbledore had just apologized for a typo, or mispronouncing her name.
"He is quite prepared to sort you now, but before he does so, I think we are probably long overdue," he continued, "for a bit of an explanation as to why, exactly we sort our students in the first place."
With that, Dumbledore strode around the table, as excited whispers and buzzes echoed around the hall. Ron's stomach gave a loud growl.
"Honestly, Ron, this is important!" Hermione clucked.
"It's my stomach, Hermione!" Ron said, "It's not like I can turn it off!"
"Quiet, quiet please," McGonagall admonished to the Hall in general.
"Thank you, Minerva," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "I will try to be brief."
"As many of you know, Hogwarts School was founded by four very close friends – Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin. While each of these witches and wizards had very different gifts, talents, and desires for the school, it is important to note that they were indeed, best of friends, and shared a common vision – a school, where witches and wizards could learn their craft through cooperation. However," Dumbledore continued, "Not all of the original four were able to get along. The rift between Gryffindor and Slytherin," he continued, "is perhaps the most obvious example of this. Yet what is not known is that even the remaining three founders found it difficult at times to work together, especially as each of them took a very different line of approach with their students."
Dumbledore paused and took a deep breath, "It was for this reason that the Sorting Hat was charmed into life. The founders felt that the Sorting represented exactly what they had intended for the school – it honored the differences in temperament between the founders and their respective students, and allowed them to partner with their peers. The friendly competition between the houses inspired students to greater heights, and yet, all of the houses remained bound into one cohesive whole – you'll note our coat of arms," Dumbledore said, proudly indicating one of the many massive shields that decorated the Great Hall, "bears the mark of each of the houses."
"In recent years, however," Dumbledore said, "It seems that the old rancor between the founders is threatening to tear the very shield that defends us asunder. Furthermore," he continued, "Sorting is in and of itself a rather intricate art, though never imprecise. Put simply, the Sorting Hat is never wrong, but he is unable to tell the whole story – individuals being so highly...individual," he said with a smile, "It would be silly to assume that all Gryffindors are alike, or that they share nothing in common with Slytherins. A simple glance at the diversity you find in your own house will confirm the truth of this. Or, the similarities you find between yourselves and members of other houses. The lines we draw between one another," Dumbledore said smiling, "Are seldom as thick as we think, and never straight."
Dumbledore held the tips of his long fingers together, and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, in which the whole school held their breath and wondered whether he had finished. Suddenly, Dumbledore continued:
"It is not my wish to alarm you. But I am sure you have read some very disturbing things in the Daily Prophet this summer, and have probably heard news from your parents, as well."
The air around Harry seemed to have gotten heavier. Harry could feel, rather than see the weight of Voldemort's return weighing on everyone's shoulders. Some had suddenly looked down at the table. Others were squirming nervously, while some, like Malfoy, simply stared at the Headmaster unblinkingly, as though to say, "So what?" Others, like Ron, stared open-mouthed at the Headmaster, amazed that he would actually bring this up at the Sorting Ceremony – what was meant to be a festive, and upbeat welcome to the school, was rapidly turning into a press conference.
"You are aware then, of the stakes at hand. It is not only out of desire for pleasantry and comfort that we have been urging you to stand together," Dumbledore said gravely, his voice expanding to fill the vibrating air, "It is not out of a flimsy desire to 'make nice,' that we ask to you to step up to this important task. It is absolutely essential. It was the desire of the founders that our differences make us strong, rather than weak – that we both recognize what separates us, yet refuse to allow it to divide us. It is in this spirit which the Sorting Hat concedes to conclude this year's Sorting."
"Now!" he said brightly, clapping his hands, and it seemed that even the torches in the room burned brighter, "Let us begin the Sorting! Err, begin again, that is."
"Aaronson, Arthur?"
But they all had turned back to each other and were discussing in hushed tones.
"Unbelievable!" Ron breathed.
"So you were paying attention, then?" Hermione said dryly.
"D'you have to snarl at me like that? You know, that's not a very attractive quality," said Ron huffily.
"Enough," Harry said, "What do you reckon?"
"I've never heard of the Sorting Hat acting like that ever before," said Hermione, "Ever. And that's saying something."
"Indeed, it is" said Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington nodding sagely, who had abruptly stuck his head through the table and floated himself between Ron and Hermione, "So sorry to be late. What have I missed?" he asked confidentially.
There was a brief pause as they stared at him in disbelief.
"Have you any idea what we've just been saying?" Hermione said, amusedly.
"Err...well, no, afraid not. Care to fill me in?"
"Nick," said Harry, "Have you ever heard of the Sorting Hat refusing to sort anyone?"
Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House Ghost, laughed wryly, his head wobbling on his ruff, "Not likely. That's what it's made for, isn't it? Sorting is its whole reason for being. A Sorting Hat that doesn't Sort? More of just a Hat, then, isn't it?"
And chuckling to himself, he floated down the table to make the rounds.
"Wyrd, Emily!" McGonagall called.
"My that was fast!" Hermione exclaimed, "We've missed nearly the whole thing!"
"Not that many this year, remember?" Harry said, remembering that he himself was probably one of the main "dividing issues" on campus this year.
"Ravenclaw!" cried the Sorting Hat, and Emily Wyrd scurried over to the Ravenclaw table. Harry looked over to his right, and was surprised to see several new faces staring at him. They quickly turned away, and studied the ceiling or the table. Restraining the urge to make a scary face and shout "Boo," Harry forced a smile.
"Hello," he said as pleasantly as possible. Arthur Aaronson let out a squeak.
"He doesn't bite," Ginny said waving, "I'm Ginny. That's my brother Ron, and that's Hermione. And...well, this is Harry, but I suppose you knew that."
"A – A – A – A – Ar – Ar –"
"Arthur Aaronson?" Hermione asked, smiling patiently.
He nodded mutely. There was no time for more introductions however, for Dumbledore had stood again, with a highly grave expression on his face.
"I must make you aware," he intoned, his great booming voice tolling over them like a church bell, "of a matter which will require your full attention for at least the next hour."
There was a barely stifled groan.
"Dinner," Dumbledore said, a smile playing on his lips, "Is served."
And suddenly the boards were groaning under the weight of whole roasted chickens, Shepherd's pie, bangers and mash, honeyed carrots, baked yams, leafy salads, crusty oat bread with fresh butter, Quiche Lorraine, Yorkshire Pudding, and the largest chocolate cake anyone had ever seen.
Ron tucked his napkin into his robes, and with a wink at Hermione, began helping himself. Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry caught her sneaking a few extra dinner rolls as well. Harry looked at the steaming, delicious food on his golden plate, and inhaled deeply, relishing the deja-vu from previous years. The sound of conversation and laughter filled the hall again. He looked from Ron, to Hermione, to Ginny, as they tucked in with a will, and up at the ceiling, and the banners streaming from the buttresses, and the torches flickering at the walls, and felt like his heart could never contain all of it.
"Wo' ivit, 'Arry?" Ron asked with his cheeks stuffed like a hamster, "Oo feewin' a'ight?
"I'm fine," Harry said smiling, and tucked in to the feast.
After they had all eaten their fill and were idly picking at what was left of their chocolate cake, Dumbledore stood once more.
"Just a few words more, and then 'Goodnight, indeed.' Our caretaker, Mr. Filch has posted a list in each common room of items which are forbidden from the hallways. Which now include," Dumbledore said with a smile, "the entire stock of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, which," he continued innocently, "you are absolutely NOT to contact via owl order. Mr. Filch was very clear that I stress that point."
Hagrid spat wine back into his goblet as he chuckled, and Filch looked murderous.
"And the Forbidden Forest, is, of course...Forbidden. Go, now!" Dumbledore said, "And empty those heads! You've got to make quite a bit of room for new things."
"That's us," Hermione said, standing.
"See you later, Harry," Ron said, "Bye, Gin. Oh, the password's Nebulus." He turned to the four new Gryffindors and hollered, "First years! This way please!"
"Err, Ron, there's only four of them," Hermione said, "Come on, then, follow us. What's your name?"
"Broderick...Broderick Johnson. I'm Angelina's brother."
Harry let out a large stretch and a yawn. "Suppose we might as well follow them," he said.
"Sure!" Ginny said, "I'll walk with you."
"Oh," Harry said, a bit surprised, "Sure." He figured that was fairly obvious, seeing as they shared the same common room...
"Harry!" shouted Neville, running over.
"Oh...err...actually, you go ahead, Gin...Sorry."
"Oh," she said, "Alright then. See you tomorrow!"
"Did I?..." Neville said, looking from Harry to Ginny, as she walked away.
"Did you what?" Harry said. He dearly wished his friends were more in the habit of finishing their sentences...
"Err..nevermind. What is it you wanted to ask me?"
"Right," Harry said, "Err...it's sort of a favor. And it's...well, it's sort of big. We probably shouldn't talk here..." Harry realized uncomfortably that he himself was being rather vague. He looked over at the Headmaster, who was chatting merrily with Hagrid and Professor McGonagall. As if on cue, he held up a finger, and glanced over to Harry.
Harry lifted his eyebrows, and jerked his head slightly at Neville, as though to ask, "How about him?" An odd expression came over Dumbledore's face – it was somewhat reserved. He then smiled, however, and nodded.
"Okay," Harry said happily, "it's all set."
"It is?" Neville said, bewildered.
"Well, if you'll do it that is. I imagine Dumbledore will set it up and call us to his office some time tomorrow."
"Oh," said Neville, clearly bewildered, "That's alright then. Err, if we hurry, Harry, we can catch Ginny before she goes to bed."
"Oh," Harry said, "Sure. I'm sorry, did you need to talk to her?"
Neville looked at Harry surprised, "No...No, I'm fine. Well, let's go then."
"Okay," Harry said. He shook his head and took a deep breath as they left the Great Hall – it had been a weird night.
Harry's feet took him automatically up to the dormitories, as he and Neville fell into a comfortable silence. They entered the common room to find a small gaggle of Gryffindors bidding goodnight to each other. Ginny was halfway up the staircase.
"Oi – Ginny!" called Harry.
She turned around, and smiled at him, "Night night, then! G'nite Neville!"
"Night!"
They mounted the stairs, and opened the door to their dormitory. Everyone was settling into their beds, and hangings were jostling on their rings. Harry saw where his trunk was laid, just the same as every year, Hedwig resting happily on her perch.
"Hi, Hedwig," Harry said, stroking her feathers affectionately. You can go to the Owlery if you like, don't let me keep you."
She nuzzled his hand, and nipped his finger affectionately. As Harry turned to look at the rich red hangings around his bed, he found a small note was pinned to them, rather near the bottom of the curtains. He unpinned it, and was happy to see a painstakingly scrawled note:
"Welcome Back, Harry Potter! Sincerely, Dobby."
"How about that speech tonight?" Dean Thomas said, climbing under his covers.
"Hang the speech!" Ron said excitedly, chucking his Prefect's badge on his nightstand, "Could you believe the Sorting Hat??"
"I know!"
"Wicked!"
Harry noted that Seamus wasn't saying anything, and he had been rather anxious for his opinion.
"Oi Seamus – What d'you reckon?" Harry asked amiably of the red curtains around Seamus' bed. There was a long silence.
"Well, you might say something!" Harry said, feeling a bit put out. He hadn't done anything to make the Sorting Hat do what it did...If anything, he wanted to hear Seamus finally admit that Harry had been right, and that Voldemort had returned, that he was sorry for being such a prat last year...
But there was no reply.
"Err...Harry," said Dean, "Seamus isn't coming to school this year."
"Why not?" Harry asked, anxiously, "He's alright, isn't he?"
"Oh yeah, he's fine," Dean said quickly, "It's just...well, you know how his mother is..."
Yet again, the bubble of happiness inside Harry's chest was suddenly popped. He climbed into bed without saying anything.
"Harry," said Dean, "We all believe you. Well," he continued, "I mean, it's not really an issue of believing you or not anymore...I think, Seamus just didn't feel safe here...not with what's going on and all."
"Well, what if he's right," Harry said angrily, "Why don't we all just pack up and go home then?"
"Look, Harry, it's no use telling us –"
"This is exactly what the Sorting Hat was talking about!" Harry shouted, "Only now our own house is splitting up! It's like he thinks Hogwarts was just some big sand castle where he could amuse himself, and now that the bloody tide's come in, he's just packing it off home to his Mum. Well, Hogwarts is my home, and no matter what happens, I'm staying!"
"Alright, Harry, relax!"
Harry took a deep breath and counted to ten. He knew he musn't get too upset right before bed...he would be vulnerable...
"I'm really sorry, Dean, I shouldn't've shouted," he said dully.
But a small, ugly voice inside him whispered, "Fine, I'm tired of apologizing for being right all the time."
"It's alright, Harry," said Dean, "We're on your side. Just don't forget."
"'Course not," Harry said, feeling genuinely abashed now, "I was being a prat. Sorry."
"Yeah, you were actually" said Ron mischievously, chucking a pillow at him, "Now go to sleep, or I'll make you do my homework for detention."
Harry grinned and chucked it back. It hit Ron square in the face.
"Nice save, Keeper."
"Right, I'll have you for that one," Ron said, winding up for another throw.
Neville yawned and rolled over. Feeling a bit guilty, they whispered their goodnights and pulled the hangings shut.
Harry squirmed his toes under the sheets...Dobby had, no doubt, filled one of the brass bed warmers with coals and placed it under his sheets just before the feast ended. Harry felt a small twinge, at the note and his warm feet, and resolved to pay Dobby a visit in the kitchens.
He took a deep breath, and before he could exhale, he was asleep.
"I know," Hermione said smiling, "The smell."
"Home!" Harry said joyfully.
Ginny and Ron shared a quick glance, but Harry was too enraptured with Hogwarts to notice.
He watched the clouds sliding lazily across the pale eye of the full moon. "Shame Lupin couldn't be here," he added, feeling heady and drunk on the cool air, the night sky, the stars above North Tower...
"He will be," Hermione said reassuringly.
"I wonder what we'll be studying in Defense this year?" Harry said, fairly squirming to get more of his torso out the window.
"Like a Muggle in Honeydukes, this one!" said Ginny, smiling wryly.
Suddenly, Harry's head felt like it was going to split open. He felt an irrational burst of vindictive joy, quite unconnected to his own. His vision swam, and dimmed, and it was lucky that Ron grabbed the back of his robes, or he'd probably have fallen right out of the carriage.
"Harry!" Ron shouted. Ginny and Hermione had stood up, and were wobbling on their feet. Harry retched over the side of the carriage. He saw out of his peripheral vision that other heads were now poking out of their carriages, and he ducked back in quickly.
"Harry, are you alright?" Hermione asked.
But Ginny pushed her roughly aside and shook Harry by the shoulders.
"HARRY!" she shouted, "MUM – DAD – IS EVERYONE – THEY'RE NOT – "
"No," Harry said, "it's not them...it's...something else...Someone else...and it's good news...several people are...are coming home?"
"Coming home?" Hermione said quizzically.
"Sure you're not just happy about us coming back to Hogwarts?" Ron asked.
"No," Harry said, "Why would my scar hurt? Why would I be so happy?"
"Well, maybe your scar hurt about something else He was doing, and you were just happy at the time?" Ginny asked thoughtfully.
"No," Harry said, "It was definitely Him, and he's definitely happy."
They squirmed uncomfortably in their seats.
"Well, that can't be good," Ron said lightly.
"I bet – Oh Harry," Hermione said with deep disappointment, "I bet they got out of prison."
"Who?" Ron asked.
"Honestly, Ron!" said Hermione, snorting, "Malfoy! And the other Death Eaters – which were they? I know I stunned Nott..."
"Right," said Ron, "and there was Crabbe and Goyle senior...they both got taken."
"Who was the one with the baby head?" Harry asked.
"Oh...that was...hmm...I think it was one of the Lestranges, I don't know which..."
"They got a bunch of others, too...Rookwood, I think."
"Bellatrix was one of the only ones to get away."
Harry's hands curled into fists involuntarily. The image of her long hair, and heavy-lidded eyes flashed into his head...the sound of her patronizing baby talk...the image of Sirius falling in a graceful arc...Neville's mother pressing a Drooble's wrapper into his hand...she was the cause of all that suffering.
"Don't worry, Harry," said Ron, "The Order's on it. We'll get her."
"I know," Harry said through gritted teeth, "I just hope it's me that gets her first."
Ginny and Hermione shared a look.
"Try to...err...lighten up a bit, Harry," said Ginny.
"Lighten –" but Hermione had diplomatically put a warning hand on his knee, and Harry knew he shouldn't snap at Ginny.
"You're right," he said, "Sorry. I guess I'm not much fun anymore."
"No! You are...you're just...you know, you've got a lot on your mind, that's all."
Harry pondered whether he ought to tell them about the prophecy. He'd come close several times already this summer. But every time he had, he always backed down. It never seemed like quite the right moment. Saying it aloud would just appall them, and that would make it that much harder to bear – plus, he was already enough of a wet blanket. He didn't need to burden his best friends with even more of his whining. Besides, knowing too much could put them in danger...
"Almost there!" Ginny said encouragingly, and Harry snapped out of his reverie to see that the carriages had indeed, arrived on Hogwarts grounds. Hermione was looking at him suspiciously, as though she could sense him holding something back.
"Phwaoorgh...you can smell the kitchens from here!" Ron said, his eyes shimmering joyfully, "That's roast chicken, smell the rosemary?...Mmm, and shepherd's pie!"
"You are a walking bottomless pit," Hermione said dismissively, "Two and half months away from Hogwarts, and all you can think about is the food."
"Now Hermione, is that any way to talk to your boyfriend?" Ginny teased.
"Ginny Weasley, I will hex you if you spread that around!"
"Ooo, I don't know about that...Hermione the Prefect?" she said winking at Harry, "Could you survive if you hexed a student?"
Hermione's eyebrow raised. "The question is, would you survive?" she replied glibly. Ginny giggled as Harry pointed out Ron's scarlet ears behind his back.
They walked under the stone archway, elbow to elbow with their fellow students, hearing the dull roar of laughter and greetings, mingled with the shuffle of robes. They passed through the enormous oak doors into the Great Hall, where the vast stone archways faded into a beautiful blue night, spangled with stars, and draped with wisps of cloud cover. Torches flickered in their brackets, and students everywhere were hugging, shouting, waving, and laughing.
They took their seats at the Gryffindor bench, and soon after, Dumbledore clinked his spoon against his glass. The hall slowly shifted from a loud cacophony to a hushed murmur.
"Thank you," Dumbledore said, smiling gently, "Professor McGonagall? If you please?"
Professor McGonagall came striding up the center of the hall, leading a gaggle of trembling first years.
"Small crowd this year," Harry noted.
"Yeah, they're tiny! Look at that kid with the blond hair, he's got to be half my height!"
"No, Ron," said Hermione, "He means the number – look at the size of this year's incoming class."
It was true – instead of the typical large incoming class, there were only about fifteen students there.
"Well, err..." said Ginny. They all turned to look at her.
"I'm sorry, Harry," she said with a grimace, "I heard Lupin on the Extendables. A lot of students have been deferring their acceptance for a year...I think...I think they might want to...wait until..."
"Wait until I'm out of school?" Harry said dully.
"Well, you and Lupin, yes," Ginny said apologetically.
"Shh!" said a Gryffindor third year to his right, "They're going to start!"
"Oh, hush up, you," said Ron. They all turned to watch McGonagall place the Sorting Hat on a stool in front of the Teacher's desk.
As expected, the hat soon quivered with life, and a rip at the brim opened wide like a mouth – The Sorting Song began:
Oh, welcome back to Hogwarts, your home away from home You second through the seventh years, from whersoe'er you've roamed. But before the feast begins, and we all break our bread It's time for you to place me now on every first year's head. For I can read your every thought, the secrets of your heart And I can tell exactly what sets each of you apart. A Gryffindor's courageous, with bravery in their bones They value all their friendships, and are rarely found alone. A Hufflepuff's a loyal, gentle, and hard-working soul These humble folk will try and try until they reach their goal. A Ravenclaw's intelligent, crafty, sharp, and wise, And Slytherins use any means to obtain their prize. Yet seeing through the years, the souls that live behind your names, I tend to see few differences, and note more what's the same. For every witch and wizard who ever yet did live Had hopes, fears, dreams, and nightmares, and each a gift to give. You're here to be divided, yes, it's that for which I'm made But now's the time when friends are found, and enemies are made. Choose carefully, you first years, which ones you make the most of. Having lots of enemies is not a trait to boast of. And upperclassmen would do well to heed my warning call If the houses don't unite, Hogwarts School will fall. For darkness falls upon us, and it's time for your true test: Will you meet the challenge and unite at my behest? Will distrust and fear point to Hogwarts new direction? Can you cross the old Divides and forge some new connections? Can you push yourself to see the darkness in your selves? Can you stand and fight alongside centaurs, goblins, elves? Can the Muggle and the Magic fight this fight together? Must we live in secrecy, now and for forever? Can the Pure and Muggle-borns reach a new accord? Can we just sit and share our bread across this ancient board? For just an hour, can we try to see the world tomorrow Instead of just the world we know that's wracked with ancient sorrow? Instead of giving answers, I give questions I'm afraid. I'm getting old, I'm getting patched, my edges all are frayed. I do not know the answers to the questions that I ask. The answer is the future, and that future is your task. You are the future of our world, so welcome to it, friends. I just begin the story. It's you that write the end.
The last notes of the Sorting Hat's Song were so low they were practically spoken. The echo of the rasping voice lingered in the air of the Great Hall, then dissipated. Harry looked up at the Teacher's table, and was startled to see that Professor Sprout wasn't making any attempt to hide her shock. She exchanged a stunned look with Professor Flitwick, and Snape sat back in his chair with a finger to his lips as though he had just encountered a particularly puzzling math problem. Hagrid scratched his head with a puzzled expression, and leaned over and muttered a question to Dumbledore. Harry scanned Dumbledore's face. He didn't find surprise written there, but the slightest arch of his eyebrow, almost undetectable, let Harry know that he was, indeed, pondering deeply what the Sorting Hat had said this year. He was snapped out of his intense scrutiny as Dumbledore's eyes flicked over to meet his. Harry thought he saw the tiniest of nods, and he nodded back, though he wasn't quite sure what Dumbledore meant.
"Did you hear the bit about the elves?" Hermione said, her eyes lighting up.
"Here she goes again," Ron said, "Are we ever going to eat? It's hard to unite on an empty stomach."
Harry caught Ginny stifling a giggle, and winked at her.
"Err...First years! Yes, yes, right up to the front," said McGonagall, as though snapping out of a daydream. Hermione pointed over to the Slytherin table. Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle were huddled with a bunch of other Slytherins, and they didn't seem too happy with what the Sorting Hat had said.
"Aaronson, Arthur," McGonagall said sternly, and a small boy who had an unfortunate tendency to hunch his shoulders walked up to the stool.
The Sorting Hat was placed on his head, and for a while, there was quiet.
"Hmmm..." said the Sorting Hat, "Hmm...Difficult." There was another long pause.
"I can't decide," the Sorting Hat said simply.
There was a stunned silence, which was punctured suddenly by a few giggles. Slowly, other students began to join in. Even McGonagall had a confused smile on her face. Surely this was a joke – the Sorting Hat couldn't possible not decide – that was its job...to decide! Dumbledore, however, was not smiling, but frowning.
"I can't decide," the Sorting Hat repeated, "I'd best try someone else."
The laughter died quickly.
"Headmaster?" Professor McGonagall asked in a terse whisper, as though whispering would conceal the fact that she was without a clue as to what to do.
"Do as it asks, Professor," Dumbledore said quietly, still frowning. For once, you could have heard a pin drop in the Great Hall.
"Yes," said McGonagall briskly, as though she had known that this would happen all along, "Just go to the back of the line, Mr. Aaronson, we'll have another go later."
Looking like he was about to scribble a note to his family and fling himself from the Astronomy Tower, Arthur Aaronson slid off of the stool, and, hunching himself even lower, shuffled to the back of the line.
"Bellenova, Electra?"
Electra Bellenova swished her long black hair over her shoulder, walked confidently up to the stool, and sat herself down like she was going to show that hat a thing or two.
The Sorting Hat was barely placed on her head, when it said, "Dear me, no. Far too close to call. I couldn't possibly."
"Headmaster!" said McGonagall angrily, as Electra Bellenova's jaw dropped to her chest.
"If I may, Minerva," said Dumbledore, standing and walking around the table. There was a collective intake of breath and all the Hogwarts students stiffened in their seats.
"Hermione," said Ron, poking her arm with his eyes glued to the Sorting Hat, "Hermione – tell me what's going on?"
"I...I don't know," said Hermione, "Harry?"
"I haven't the slightest," Harry said, mystified. As far as Harry knew, Dumbledore had never, ever left his seat during the Sorting Ceremony, and surely the Sorting Hat had never done this before.
"I wonder if I might have a word with our Sorting Hat," Dumbledore said politely to Professor McGonagall.
"Err – of course," said McGonagall, handing Dumbledore the hat.
"Why thank you," he said, smiling benignly. Then Dumbledore himself sat on the stool, and placed the Sorting Hat on top of his head.
For a while, Dumbledore simply sat there, every once in a while, arching an eyebrow, or looking up to the ceiling. Once, he scowled at the floor, and stroked his beard.
"Mmm..." he said, and every Hogwarts student held their breath and strained their ears.
"Yes," he muttered quietly, "I see, and yet..." He trailed off, leaving everyone leaning over each other's dinner plates and half-lying across the table trying to get one inch closer to the front of the hall.
"Well, I'm afraid it is, you see..." he said, more insistently. Ginny had actually climbed off the bench and was sitting on the tabletop, leaning forward.
"Well, I think you've made your point," Dumbledore said amiably, but Harry detected that finality in his voice which meant the discussion was over, "Now if you don't mind, I think –"
Dumbledore's eyebrows shot up to the ceiling, and there was actually a collective gasp from the student body.
"I'm afraid it is not your position to lecture to my students, as you are not currently a professor in the employ of Hogwarts School," Dumbledore said, barely audible, and Harry again recognized that friendly tone that whispered of danger. "It is as much an administrative issue as...but I DO see your point."
"Oh!" said Hermione, clapping a hand to her mouth.
"You'd better tell us now before you run off to the library!" Ron said warningly.
"Well, I – I think that the Hat is refusing to sort the first years because...because it wants us to unite. It thinks that sorting the first years into their houses will cause even more division between –"
But Hermione was interrupted, as Dumbledore stood and removed the hat, smiling benignly.
"The Sorting Hat," he said, holding up his hands for attention, "Is not feeling well, and apologizes for any discomfort he may have caused, particularly to you, Mr. Aaronson, and you, Ms. Bellenova," he said, nodding at them.
Mr. Aaronson looked as though if one more person were to look at him that night he might spontaneously combust. Ms. Bellenova on the other hand, smiled and even went so far as to nod back politely, as though Dumbledore had just apologized for a typo, or mispronouncing her name.
"He is quite prepared to sort you now, but before he does so, I think we are probably long overdue," he continued, "for a bit of an explanation as to why, exactly we sort our students in the first place."
With that, Dumbledore strode around the table, as excited whispers and buzzes echoed around the hall. Ron's stomach gave a loud growl.
"Honestly, Ron, this is important!" Hermione clucked.
"It's my stomach, Hermione!" Ron said, "It's not like I can turn it off!"
"Quiet, quiet please," McGonagall admonished to the Hall in general.
"Thank you, Minerva," said Dumbledore pleasantly, "I will try to be brief."
"As many of you know, Hogwarts School was founded by four very close friends – Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin. While each of these witches and wizards had very different gifts, talents, and desires for the school, it is important to note that they were indeed, best of friends, and shared a common vision – a school, where witches and wizards could learn their craft through cooperation. However," Dumbledore continued, "Not all of the original four were able to get along. The rift between Gryffindor and Slytherin," he continued, "is perhaps the most obvious example of this. Yet what is not known is that even the remaining three founders found it difficult at times to work together, especially as each of them took a very different line of approach with their students."
Dumbledore paused and took a deep breath, "It was for this reason that the Sorting Hat was charmed into life. The founders felt that the Sorting represented exactly what they had intended for the school – it honored the differences in temperament between the founders and their respective students, and allowed them to partner with their peers. The friendly competition between the houses inspired students to greater heights, and yet, all of the houses remained bound into one cohesive whole – you'll note our coat of arms," Dumbledore said, proudly indicating one of the many massive shields that decorated the Great Hall, "bears the mark of each of the houses."
"In recent years, however," Dumbledore said, "It seems that the old rancor between the founders is threatening to tear the very shield that defends us asunder. Furthermore," he continued, "Sorting is in and of itself a rather intricate art, though never imprecise. Put simply, the Sorting Hat is never wrong, but he is unable to tell the whole story – individuals being so highly...individual," he said with a smile, "It would be silly to assume that all Gryffindors are alike, or that they share nothing in common with Slytherins. A simple glance at the diversity you find in your own house will confirm the truth of this. Or, the similarities you find between yourselves and members of other houses. The lines we draw between one another," Dumbledore said smiling, "Are seldom as thick as we think, and never straight."
Dumbledore held the tips of his long fingers together, and looked up at the ceiling for a moment, in which the whole school held their breath and wondered whether he had finished. Suddenly, Dumbledore continued:
"It is not my wish to alarm you. But I am sure you have read some very disturbing things in the Daily Prophet this summer, and have probably heard news from your parents, as well."
The air around Harry seemed to have gotten heavier. Harry could feel, rather than see the weight of Voldemort's return weighing on everyone's shoulders. Some had suddenly looked down at the table. Others were squirming nervously, while some, like Malfoy, simply stared at the Headmaster unblinkingly, as though to say, "So what?" Others, like Ron, stared open-mouthed at the Headmaster, amazed that he would actually bring this up at the Sorting Ceremony – what was meant to be a festive, and upbeat welcome to the school, was rapidly turning into a press conference.
"You are aware then, of the stakes at hand. It is not only out of desire for pleasantry and comfort that we have been urging you to stand together," Dumbledore said gravely, his voice expanding to fill the vibrating air, "It is not out of a flimsy desire to 'make nice,' that we ask to you to step up to this important task. It is absolutely essential. It was the desire of the founders that our differences make us strong, rather than weak – that we both recognize what separates us, yet refuse to allow it to divide us. It is in this spirit which the Sorting Hat concedes to conclude this year's Sorting."
"Now!" he said brightly, clapping his hands, and it seemed that even the torches in the room burned brighter, "Let us begin the Sorting! Err, begin again, that is."
"Aaronson, Arthur?"
But they all had turned back to each other and were discussing in hushed tones.
"Unbelievable!" Ron breathed.
"So you were paying attention, then?" Hermione said dryly.
"D'you have to snarl at me like that? You know, that's not a very attractive quality," said Ron huffily.
"Enough," Harry said, "What do you reckon?"
"I've never heard of the Sorting Hat acting like that ever before," said Hermione, "Ever. And that's saying something."
"Indeed, it is" said Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington nodding sagely, who had abruptly stuck his head through the table and floated himself between Ron and Hermione, "So sorry to be late. What have I missed?" he asked confidentially.
There was a brief pause as they stared at him in disbelief.
"Have you any idea what we've just been saying?" Hermione said, amusedly.
"Err...well, no, afraid not. Care to fill me in?"
"Nick," said Harry, "Have you ever heard of the Sorting Hat refusing to sort anyone?"
Nearly-Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House Ghost, laughed wryly, his head wobbling on his ruff, "Not likely. That's what it's made for, isn't it? Sorting is its whole reason for being. A Sorting Hat that doesn't Sort? More of just a Hat, then, isn't it?"
And chuckling to himself, he floated down the table to make the rounds.
"Wyrd, Emily!" McGonagall called.
"My that was fast!" Hermione exclaimed, "We've missed nearly the whole thing!"
"Not that many this year, remember?" Harry said, remembering that he himself was probably one of the main "dividing issues" on campus this year.
"Ravenclaw!" cried the Sorting Hat, and Emily Wyrd scurried over to the Ravenclaw table. Harry looked over to his right, and was surprised to see several new faces staring at him. They quickly turned away, and studied the ceiling or the table. Restraining the urge to make a scary face and shout "Boo," Harry forced a smile.
"Hello," he said as pleasantly as possible. Arthur Aaronson let out a squeak.
"He doesn't bite," Ginny said waving, "I'm Ginny. That's my brother Ron, and that's Hermione. And...well, this is Harry, but I suppose you knew that."
"A – A – A – A – Ar – Ar –"
"Arthur Aaronson?" Hermione asked, smiling patiently.
He nodded mutely. There was no time for more introductions however, for Dumbledore had stood again, with a highly grave expression on his face.
"I must make you aware," he intoned, his great booming voice tolling over them like a church bell, "of a matter which will require your full attention for at least the next hour."
There was a barely stifled groan.
"Dinner," Dumbledore said, a smile playing on his lips, "Is served."
And suddenly the boards were groaning under the weight of whole roasted chickens, Shepherd's pie, bangers and mash, honeyed carrots, baked yams, leafy salads, crusty oat bread with fresh butter, Quiche Lorraine, Yorkshire Pudding, and the largest chocolate cake anyone had ever seen.
Ron tucked his napkin into his robes, and with a wink at Hermione, began helping himself. Hermione rolled her eyes, but Harry caught her sneaking a few extra dinner rolls as well. Harry looked at the steaming, delicious food on his golden plate, and inhaled deeply, relishing the deja-vu from previous years. The sound of conversation and laughter filled the hall again. He looked from Ron, to Hermione, to Ginny, as they tucked in with a will, and up at the ceiling, and the banners streaming from the buttresses, and the torches flickering at the walls, and felt like his heart could never contain all of it.
"Wo' ivit, 'Arry?" Ron asked with his cheeks stuffed like a hamster, "Oo feewin' a'ight?
"I'm fine," Harry said smiling, and tucked in to the feast.
After they had all eaten their fill and were idly picking at what was left of their chocolate cake, Dumbledore stood once more.
"Just a few words more, and then 'Goodnight, indeed.' Our caretaker, Mr. Filch has posted a list in each common room of items which are forbidden from the hallways. Which now include," Dumbledore said with a smile, "the entire stock of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes, which," he continued innocently, "you are absolutely NOT to contact via owl order. Mr. Filch was very clear that I stress that point."
Hagrid spat wine back into his goblet as he chuckled, and Filch looked murderous.
"And the Forbidden Forest, is, of course...Forbidden. Go, now!" Dumbledore said, "And empty those heads! You've got to make quite a bit of room for new things."
"That's us," Hermione said, standing.
"See you later, Harry," Ron said, "Bye, Gin. Oh, the password's Nebulus." He turned to the four new Gryffindors and hollered, "First years! This way please!"
"Err, Ron, there's only four of them," Hermione said, "Come on, then, follow us. What's your name?"
"Broderick...Broderick Johnson. I'm Angelina's brother."
Harry let out a large stretch and a yawn. "Suppose we might as well follow them," he said.
"Sure!" Ginny said, "I'll walk with you."
"Oh," Harry said, a bit surprised, "Sure." He figured that was fairly obvious, seeing as they shared the same common room...
"Harry!" shouted Neville, running over.
"Oh...err...actually, you go ahead, Gin...Sorry."
"Oh," she said, "Alright then. See you tomorrow!"
"Did I?..." Neville said, looking from Harry to Ginny, as she walked away.
"Did you what?" Harry said. He dearly wished his friends were more in the habit of finishing their sentences...
"Err..nevermind. What is it you wanted to ask me?"
"Right," Harry said, "Err...it's sort of a favor. And it's...well, it's sort of big. We probably shouldn't talk here..." Harry realized uncomfortably that he himself was being rather vague. He looked over at the Headmaster, who was chatting merrily with Hagrid and Professor McGonagall. As if on cue, he held up a finger, and glanced over to Harry.
Harry lifted his eyebrows, and jerked his head slightly at Neville, as though to ask, "How about him?" An odd expression came over Dumbledore's face – it was somewhat reserved. He then smiled, however, and nodded.
"Okay," Harry said happily, "it's all set."
"It is?" Neville said, bewildered.
"Well, if you'll do it that is. I imagine Dumbledore will set it up and call us to his office some time tomorrow."
"Oh," said Neville, clearly bewildered, "That's alright then. Err, if we hurry, Harry, we can catch Ginny before she goes to bed."
"Oh," Harry said, "Sure. I'm sorry, did you need to talk to her?"
Neville looked at Harry surprised, "No...No, I'm fine. Well, let's go then."
"Okay," Harry said. He shook his head and took a deep breath as they left the Great Hall – it had been a weird night.
Harry's feet took him automatically up to the dormitories, as he and Neville fell into a comfortable silence. They entered the common room to find a small gaggle of Gryffindors bidding goodnight to each other. Ginny was halfway up the staircase.
"Oi – Ginny!" called Harry.
She turned around, and smiled at him, "Night night, then! G'nite Neville!"
"Night!"
They mounted the stairs, and opened the door to their dormitory. Everyone was settling into their beds, and hangings were jostling on their rings. Harry saw where his trunk was laid, just the same as every year, Hedwig resting happily on her perch.
"Hi, Hedwig," Harry said, stroking her feathers affectionately. You can go to the Owlery if you like, don't let me keep you."
She nuzzled his hand, and nipped his finger affectionately. As Harry turned to look at the rich red hangings around his bed, he found a small note was pinned to them, rather near the bottom of the curtains. He unpinned it, and was happy to see a painstakingly scrawled note:
"Welcome Back, Harry Potter! Sincerely, Dobby."
"How about that speech tonight?" Dean Thomas said, climbing under his covers.
"Hang the speech!" Ron said excitedly, chucking his Prefect's badge on his nightstand, "Could you believe the Sorting Hat??"
"I know!"
"Wicked!"
Harry noted that Seamus wasn't saying anything, and he had been rather anxious for his opinion.
"Oi Seamus – What d'you reckon?" Harry asked amiably of the red curtains around Seamus' bed. There was a long silence.
"Well, you might say something!" Harry said, feeling a bit put out. He hadn't done anything to make the Sorting Hat do what it did...If anything, he wanted to hear Seamus finally admit that Harry had been right, and that Voldemort had returned, that he was sorry for being such a prat last year...
But there was no reply.
"Err...Harry," said Dean, "Seamus isn't coming to school this year."
"Why not?" Harry asked, anxiously, "He's alright, isn't he?"
"Oh yeah, he's fine," Dean said quickly, "It's just...well, you know how his mother is..."
Yet again, the bubble of happiness inside Harry's chest was suddenly popped. He climbed into bed without saying anything.
"Harry," said Dean, "We all believe you. Well," he continued, "I mean, it's not really an issue of believing you or not anymore...I think, Seamus just didn't feel safe here...not with what's going on and all."
"Well, what if he's right," Harry said angrily, "Why don't we all just pack up and go home then?"
"Look, Harry, it's no use telling us –"
"This is exactly what the Sorting Hat was talking about!" Harry shouted, "Only now our own house is splitting up! It's like he thinks Hogwarts was just some big sand castle where he could amuse himself, and now that the bloody tide's come in, he's just packing it off home to his Mum. Well, Hogwarts is my home, and no matter what happens, I'm staying!"
"Alright, Harry, relax!"
Harry took a deep breath and counted to ten. He knew he musn't get too upset right before bed...he would be vulnerable...
"I'm really sorry, Dean, I shouldn't've shouted," he said dully.
But a small, ugly voice inside him whispered, "Fine, I'm tired of apologizing for being right all the time."
"It's alright, Harry," said Dean, "We're on your side. Just don't forget."
"'Course not," Harry said, feeling genuinely abashed now, "I was being a prat. Sorry."
"Yeah, you were actually" said Ron mischievously, chucking a pillow at him, "Now go to sleep, or I'll make you do my homework for detention."
Harry grinned and chucked it back. It hit Ron square in the face.
"Nice save, Keeper."
"Right, I'll have you for that one," Ron said, winding up for another throw.
Neville yawned and rolled over. Feeling a bit guilty, they whispered their goodnights and pulled the hangings shut.
Harry squirmed his toes under the sheets...Dobby had, no doubt, filled one of the brass bed warmers with coals and placed it under his sheets just before the feast ended. Harry felt a small twinge, at the note and his warm feet, and resolved to pay Dobby a visit in the kitchens.
He took a deep breath, and before he could exhale, he was asleep.
