AN/ This is the direct continuation of previous chapter and should be read as such.
"I'm sorry, Hermione. I was just thinking. So many things have happened since I went to Ollivander's to get my old wand. I wonder sometimes… If I never went into that shop, how many things would have been different. Would Cedric end up dead? And what if my old wand didn't have Fawkes's feather like Voldemort's? Would Voldemort lose that night more than that battle, or would I have died without Priory to save me? Would Sirius be alive because I would have been dead and buried, not at the Ministry, in need of being saved?" With frightening ease, he told her how he had felt shortly after acquiring his black beauty. How he felt then, but not now.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said softly, her pouting transformed into gentle worry. Her eyes were shiny from unshed tears and a moment later she hugged him fiercely. He hugged her back, sad because he lied to her like that. He knew Hermione, he knew her well. She was the one always supporting him, always ready to help, even when Ron doubted him like during the Triwizard Tournament. And that was his weapon against her. To distract her he only had to offer something he needed to be comforted about. She was a good person, and now he was hugging that bushy haired know-it-all, accepting the comfort she was offering, comfort for things she didn't even know he needed comforting for. For Cedric, for Sirius, for lying to her and to Ron, for doubting his friends, for never knowing his parents, for never breathing again, for Molly and Arthur being scared of him, for being dead.
"Mate, you thing too much," Ron's voice broke his musings again and he couldn't help but smile. Ron was always for easy solutions. Hermione released him from her hold and with a small smile on her tear stained face added teasingly, "Well, yes. Harry, you think too much."
They all laughed and soon the story of Hermione's Book Fair Adventure continued.
"And I tell you, the Order is up to something. Mum and Dad are acting funny. I just know there is something big going on," Ron was saying as they exited the train. Harry was about to tell him again that no, Dumbledore didn't tell him anything when he saw them. Thestrals, the unwanted reminder that he had seen death. Hermione tracked his line of sight and pushed him gently.
"Come on Harry."
As they neared the carriages Harry could see the dreaded winged-horses turning their heads towards him, their white eyes looking at him, observing him. He faintly registered Hagrid calling for first years in the distance, enthralled by their gazes. He felt an urge, a pull, a need to approach them. Something deep within him listened to that pull and he started walking to them not even realizing it.
"Harry?" came Neville's timid voice. "Why are the Thestrals looking at you like that?"
Hermione turned to him instantly. "What did you say about Thestrals, Neville?"
"Well, it is just that they are looking at Harry really weirdly. They are all looking at him, and it's creepy."
Before he even finished, her attention was back on Harry, and with sudden alarm she noticed that Harry wasn't going towards the carriage like it seemed at first but…
"Ron! He's going to them! Stop him!" She jumped and the next moment both she and Ron were pulling Harry back, completely unaware that he was just mere inches from the skeletal creature. And just like they were unaware of that, they were unaware of the rage that suddenly alighted white eyes. Because of that, the attack from the winged horse caught them unprepared.
The thestrals started pulling at the chains that connected them to the carriages, turning some over, sounding themselves with wild unearthly screams, their eyes flashing and wings flailing madly. A handful of those who actually saw what was happening shouted frantically to their friends to run away from the carriages.
Hermione screamed when a steely hoof hit her in the chest, knocking her down and Ron without thinking ducked , that action saving him from being hit with a leathery wing.
At that time Harry, having broken the connection with Thestral's eyes, finally woke up from his daze. His mind cleared just in time to see an enraged black horse preparing to strike at his red-haired friend.
"Stop!" he yelled in despair.
Everything stopped. It took him couple of seconds to realize it, but it was true. The thestrals did stop and now were looking at him inquiringly. He felt compelled to add, "They are my friends." It was only a whisper, barely audible even to his own ears, but he knew they heard and that they understood. He turned his attention to his two best friends, while the thestrals returned silently to their assigned places.
The Welcoming Feast started with excited chatter and comments of their ride. Everyone had his own theory of the strange thestral behavior, and those that actually were inside the carriages when the whole thing happened were proudly showing off their bruises.
The Slytherin table, of course, with Draco Malfoy in charge, was already complaining about Dumbledore's incompetence and his reckless organization of school transport. Phrases like "board of governors" and "will get him sacked" could frequently be heard from their direction.
The Sorting passed without incident, and soon all the first years found their places and were welcomed by fellow housemates. A They were reassured that things like "the carriage episode" didn't happen on a regular basis.
Members of Golden Trio were, not unexpectedly, the main attraction at the Gryffindor table, having been closest to the cause of all the mayhem. While Ron was telling wondrous stories of how he battled three angry thestrals (with some help from Harry) and Harry, not really in the mood to step in and correct him, confirmed his heroic tales, Hermione was surrounded by large number of Gryffindor girls. They wanted to know about her health, and what seemed more important (to Hermione's great annoyance), if our red-haired boy wonder fancied anyone.
After giving the students some time to settle, Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table. The talk and murmurs echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.
"Ahem -- Just a few more words, now that we are all fed and watered. To our new students, welcome; to our old students welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you, and let it be filled with joy and success.
"I have a few start of term notices to give you.
"First years should note that the forest on the grounds is forbidden to all pupils. And a few of our older students would do well to remember that as well."
Dumbledore's twinkling eyes flashed in the direction of the Golden Trio.
"I have also been asked by Mr. Filch, the caretaker, to remind you that no magic should be used between classes in the corridors, and he also asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.
"Quidditch trials will be held in the second week of the term. Those wishing to play for their house teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise."
"And finally, we are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Please welcome Professor Lyssandore Dark, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."
A woman sitting next to a furious-looking Snape stood. The Hall was silent, all eyes on the dark figure, trying to decipher her. She was tall, dressed in black, billowing robes that with her pale skin and raven-black, long, wild hair only added to her mysterious looks. She looked around the Hall, evaluating students, and for a moment her eyes locked with Harry's. He froze. He was familiar with that look. He saw the same look in someone else's eyes. These onyx eyes contained the same kind of glassiness, though to a much lesser degree, since they were still, Harry knew, living eyes, than his own did. The connection broke, and Dark slightly bowed and resumed her seat.
Dumbledore finished his speech, and gossiping continued. Thestrals were for the moment forgotten, and the new DADA Professor came into focus. At Gryffindor table, Ron was already convincing Hermione that Dark must be evil, and the bushy-haired girl was convincing him in return that Dumbledore surely knew what he was doing. But Harry wasn't listening. He still sat frozen in his seat, his glamoured eyes still on the black-eyed woman. He shivered. He didn't know if she was dangerous or evil, but he did know, somewhere inside him, that she was important.