― CHAPTER EIGHT ―

Return to Hogwarts

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Hermione Granger stepped through the brick wall barrier onto Platform 9 ¾, where the familiar scarlet engine train stood billowing thick clouds of steam across a less-than-usual crowd of departing students and a more-than-usual number of Ministry bodyguards. She knew that many wizarding families felt that Hogwarts was no longer a safe place for their children to attend, and were opting for the 'at-home' study alternative, which the Board had ended up implementing after all. Hermione felt a bit cross at this; anyone who bothered to read about the history of Hogwarts would know that the enchantments protecting the castle (recently reinforced by McGonagall) made it a virtual stronghold compared to even the Ministry in London. As for the loophole found last year … well, being Head Girl, she planned to take it upon herself (with the aid of the Marauder's Map, which Harry had bequeathed to her), to make sure the Room of Requirement would not be accessed by students again –especially Slytherins.

Since her best friends were busy with the locket business this morning, Tonks had been appointed to supervise Hermione's send-off. Snapping her gum loudly, the pink-haired witch now put a hand on her charge's shoulder, and spun Hermione around to face her.

"Listen, lass," she said soberly. "I know you're real close to Harry an' Ron, but you know owls can be intercepted …"

"Of course, I'll be careful."

"Not that," said Tonks, emphatically shaking her spiky head. "There may be surprises at school that would be best not to, uh, share with the boys, y' know?."

"What do you mean?" Hermione was curious now.

"Just remember boys can be stupid about some things." Tonks began pushing the trunk-loaded trolley again and it seemed this was her final word of ambiguous advice. Puzzled, Hermione followed and figured she would decide what it meant when confronted with the 'surprise.' Meanwhile, she had already agreed with the young Order members in question that their regular reports to each other should be ciphered to sound like casual letter-writing, and they had even agreed on an 'S.O.S.' code in case of emergency help needed: Troll! … after the first danger the trio had ever faced together, the incident that had sealed their friendships back when they were eleven.

"Wow, I miss the Hogwarts days," said Tonks a bit wistfully, looking up at the train door where students were clambering aboard. A ginger head poked out from a window down from the spot they stood, waving to get their attention. Tonks beamed back. "Wotcher, Ginny."

"Oh, it's you!" Hermione knew that Ginny had come to the station with the twins from their flat because she was avoiding a run-in with Harry, since he had been supposed to escort Hermione here. Hence the note of relief in the younger girl's voice to see Tonks as his substitute.

Hermione hugged Tonks goodbye and heaved her trunk up onto the storage rack, then turned to bundle Crookshanks, her large tabby cat, in her arms and call out, "Thanks, Nymphadora!" Since her fiancé called her by her first name, Tonks didn't mind it as much, and let Hermione use it since the latter insisted it was more 'melodious' than her surname.

As the Hogwarts Express whistled and began to chug forth, Hermione headed straight for the Prefects' carriage, modestly acknowledging congratulatory greetings from a few seventh-year students as she made her way along the corridor. She slipped inside the compartment and the first person her eyes sought out was Head Boy. Looking pompous in a Percyesque way with his gleaming badge pinned on immaculate robes was sandy-haired Hufflepuff Ernie Macmilllan.

"Hello, Hermione," he said. "I had a feeling it would be you!"

"You too," she fibbed courteously. Actually, she had guessed it would be a Ravenclaw. She looked around and nodded at all the prefects, including the new fifth-years, a girl and a boy from each of the four houses. Also present were the prefects from her own year … Pansy Parkinson, and a handsome black boy, Blaise Zabini, who was evidently the replacement for Slytherin's exiled prince. Vain, yes, but not as obnoxious, thank the gods.

"Of course McGonagall would choose Head Girl from her own House," sniffed Pansy Parkinson, a look of disdain on her heart-shaped, pug-like face. "Even if she's of questionable pedigree."

"I wouldn't mention pedigree if I were you, Pugsy," retorted Hermione, eliciting a snicker quickly smothered as a cough from Zabini. Pansy shot him a sulky glare but refrained from countering. Ready to move onto business, Hermione conjured a quill and parchment and said, "Alright, let's work out our night-patrolling shifts for school … who wants Mondays … ?"

The rest of the train trip was the dullest that Hermione remembered having experienced. She missed Harry and Ron badly; though Ginny was her closest girlfriend, she just wasn't the same company. To her astonishment, Ginny didn't seem as affected by her boyfriend and brother's absences. She was sitting and chattering with a group of sixth-year Ravenclaw girls, and not in the compartment with Luna Lovegood and Neville Longbottom as Hermione would have expected.

Eventually the darkened landscape began to flash by more slowly, and the train lurched to a stop. After disembarking, Hermione and Ernie helped organize the students into lines for boarding the Thestral-drawn carriages, while Hagrid ("Lo there 'Ermione, made 'ead girl, 'ave yer!") shepherded the tiny first-years toward rowless boats for the customary lake-crossing. Hermione was happy to see the towering gamekeeper looking drastically less depressed than the last time she had seen him at the funeral in June.

Soon, the turrets and towers of Hogwarts castle rose on the horizon, blazing against a deep, velvety blue sky, and Hermione felt her insides clench with emotion. This is the last time I'll be riding towards this view, she realized. I've got to appreciate every moment of this final year …

Briskly crossing the huge flagstone foyer to the candlelit Great Hall, Hermione felt a weird excitement tingle through her. This year was already so different –without Dumbledore and Snape, without Harry and Ron, without a fourth of students who had chosen not to return, her Phoenix membership and her Headship –that she couldn't help feeling a sense of anticipation of things to come. Who knew what would happen in such altered conditions?

The ceiling of the Great Hall was a clear star-strewn indigo mirroring its outdoor version, but the atmosphere among the four long tables was leaden and hushed –totally unlike the noisy lightheartedness that typically prevailed at start-of-term feasts. Even the Slytherin table looked downcast, although Hermione was sure that several of them had Death Eater and/or Dumbledore-hating parents. She, too, felt the weight of the absence of their Headmaster, but she was not going to let what could not be changed dampen her spirits: she owed it to Harry to be as positive-minded as possible.

Professor McGonagall had stood and was clinking her spoon against her cup to call for order. The Hall fell pin-drop silent.

"I welcome, quite literally, your return to Hogwarts." McGonagall's voice was strong as she looked into the sea of students' upturned faces, square spectacles flashing. "It has been an extremely difficult decision both for staff," she gestured the length of her table where Professors Slughorn, Sprout, Flitwick, Trelawney, Sinistra, and others, plus Hagrid and Madame Pomfrey, were seated. "As for yourselves and your families."

"Hogwarts shall never forget the greatest wizard and finest headmaster of this age. And we shall not forget the tragedy of Professor Dumbledore's unnatural death, nor the devastating dishonor committed by Severus Snape," she paused, and raised her voice a little. "But we will remember the wisdom of Dumbledore in a time such as this: we must remain united against enmity, whether external or internal.

"So I beseech you to follow school regulations, to be on your guard and report anything out of the ordinary to a prefect or professor, and to cease all forms of inter-house rivalry. To this last end, Quidditch competitions will not be held this year." She held up a hand to stop the collective groan. "This decision has been taken also out of regard for new security measures, which prohibit students from walking the grounds except for recess in the courtyard or Herbology at the greenhouses. In other words, the lake, the Quidditch field, and of course as ever, the Forbidden Forest are strictly out-of-bounds. Curfew for all years is eight in the evening and will be rigidly enforced. The criteria for expulsion have become quite stringent this year, so consider yourselves warned."

This was as severe a departure from Dumbledore's speechmaking style as anyone would have expected from McGonagall, but it still stung to believe that Hogwarts had changed from boarding school to boot camp. Hermione was beginning to feel hunger cramps and wished that like her predecessor, McGonagall would have preferred to address them after they had been fed.

"Now, before we commence the feast, I have an announcement that may come rather as a shock to you, but after listening to the circumstances I hope you will recognize the rationale for the school board's decision in this matter." Despite the tiredness of the long journey and their growing hunger, everyone's rapt attention refocused on McGonagall.

"I extend my demonstrative welcome to another Hogwarts returnee, who will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts," said the Headmistress, beckoning at the archway to the side of her platform. A tall, narrow, erect figure stepped forward, and hundreds of disbelieving eyes watched as the firelight fell across the pale, pointed face of Draco Malfoy.

There was a moment of pure dumbfounded speechlessness.

Then, the Great Hall was in uproar. Screams of "Death Eater!" and "Murderer!" rang in Hermione's ears, mingling with the blood pounding furiously in her ears. Malfoy at Hogwarts after what he did? As a teacher? For the first time in her life Hermione questioned the sanity of a professor she liked and respected: Was McGonagall mad?

"Order! … ORDER!" McGonagall's sonorus-amplified command silenced the enraged student populace and she fixed them with a stonily sympathetic gaze. "I understand your reaction but listen before forming judgments or voicing accusations! Mr. Malfoy did not kill Albus Dumbledore, though he did regrettably aid the Dark Order in executing that act." Another wave of angry murmurs rose but she held her hand up. "Please! Let me continue."

"Mr. Malfoy sought my help after a horrifically traumatic experience that caused him to desert the ranks of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," McGonagall paused for the full implications of her statement to sink in. "He will tell you himself, now, what happened to cause his conversion back to our Side –the truth of which," she added. "Has been verified by Veritaserum."

Draco Malfoy's silver eyes were expressionless –one could not say whether empty or apathetic –as he surveyed the Hall. His voice, when he spoke, was low-pitched. "A week ago, I bore witness to my mother being mercilessly slain." The signature drawl was gone but the intrinsic arrogance was still there. He hesitated and then choked vehemently, "At the hands of my father!"

Hermione felt her throat constrict as sharp intakes of breath sounded up and down their table. She had never seen Malfoy bleeding publicly like this; frankly, she hadn't imagined he had the guts. And what a nauseating reality check had finally slapped him into opening his eyes to the extent of Voldemort's lunacy … it made her sick …

There were still murmurs but the tone had winded down significantly.

McGonagall said crisply, "As you see, Mr. Malfoy's fugitive status puts him at great risk, and it is up to us to offer him refuge in our compassion, our forgiveness, and –our solidarity. I hope that as I demonstrated earlier, you too will welcome him back to your school."

"I have appointed Mr. Malfoy Defense instructor as part of the conditions for his return. Due to his firsthand, insider knowledge of the Death Eater system, he is better suited than any Auror or Professor to educate you against offensive Dark magic, despite his young age."

A ghost of a smile appeared. "I think we are all famished and it is enough said. The Sorting Ceremony will begin after we enjoy our start-of-term feast." And with that, the tables sprang to life with a rich array of food and drink.

Speech before dinner, Sorting afterward … everything was inverted. And Malfoy, repentant … there's no such thing as an Ex-Death Eater, Harry's voice said in her head as Hermione watched the boy take a seat at the Slytherin table –evidently, he was still deemed a student first and foremost –and suddenly the meaning of Tonks' warning clicked. She was not supposed to tell Harry and Ron about Malfoy's return because they would never accept the possibility of his innocence, and might even seek a violent confrontation with him, which might lead to bad outcomes. She could envision how red Ron would turn reading, "Ernie Macmillan is Head Boy. Slughorn is still Potions Master. And the new DADA is Professor Malfoy … " Her chuckle immediately became a grimace. No! not professor. Just instructor, like Harry had been for the D.A. in fifth year.

Was Malfoy lying or sincere? There was the truth serum test … but there was also Snape's example to consider. If Snape could hoodwink Dumbledore, wouldn't Malfoy be able to deceive McGonagall? As for exiting Voldemort's service, it wasn't as impossible has Harry had affirmed it to be: Regalus Black proved that there could be true repentance for a Death Eater …

Hermione was so lost in her thoughts that at first she didn't notice the sensation of being stared at. Lifting her head, she was startled to see Malfoy's penetrating grey gaze locked on her. Before she could work up a proper glower, he did something so utterly un-Malfoyish that she was thrown off balance. He smiled at her. Slowly, and sexily.

Hermione dropped her eyes back to her plate of apple crumble, confused and annoyed. It really was becoming an alternate universe, for the classically condescending blond Slytherin to produce a non-smirking smile directed at her. True, she had anticipated changes this year, but none like this. Hermione remembered her own verdict: No matter what … he is still our enemy. She added a clause: Especially if he smiles bizarrely.