Author Notes: I know it's been over four months since I've updated...shameful I know. I could list all the things that I was doing however you came here to read a chapter, not to listen to me rant. So read on!
Disclaimer: The only thing I own is the plot, the new DADA professor and all six books. Everything else belongs to J.K.Rowling.
Hugs and cookies for my beta, the loverly BlondeDragon! Thank you!
Chapter 7/ Return to Hogwarts
Albus Dumbledore smiled at the sea of students whispering and giggling before him. The noise and chatter of children that filled the decorated Great Hall had been sorely missed over the summer. Though Albus himself enjoyed the boisterous and lively noise, there were some professors who didn't care for it as much.
Dumbledore reclined comfortably back in his chair, absently stroking his famous white beard. Two seats to his right, Professor Sprout laughed and continued chatting with Professor Sinistra on her right.
Dumbledore's eyes wandered over the House tables before settling on a certain sixth-year, raven-haired Gryffindor boy.
---
Harry could feel them; he could actually feel Dumbledore's eyes on him as he half-heartedly chatted with his year mates. He knew if he just turned his head 90°, a certain pair of frustratingly twinkling eyes would be on him, as if they were penetrating into his mind.
Right Harry, he mused, just concentrate back on Ron…
"…and then, Charlie did this dive—it must have been thirty feet!—and wham!—right into a branch of a tree. Well, he caught the Snitch, but ended up with a bloody face and a broken arm. You should have seen my mum; she nearly banned us from Quidditch for the rest of the summer. Anyway, I have a bloody brilliant idea for our Quidditch plays this year! Charlie showed me some moves, and I figured that if we fly in that formation we--"
"—Harry?"
Harry was jolted back to reality by the sound of Hermione's concerned voice; he had been drifting off and not really paying attention to Ron—it was quite easy, considering that it only took an occasional lethargic 'yeah, mate' and 'of course' to keep the conversation fairly one-sided. He blinked and shot a reassuring smile at the petit brunette sitting across from him. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by Ron.
"—Aw, Hermione!" Ron whined. "I was right in the middle of my explanation. Really, now--"
"—Are you alright Harry?" Hermione asked, putting away her book (Practical and Theoretical Charms of the 18th century by Juliette Bloom) and furrowing her brows in concern for her friend. "You seem a little..."
"I'm fine Hermione—really." He reassured. "Just…tired I guess." He yawned an obviously fake yawn just to please her. He smiled, but the smile stayed on his lips even though his eyes remained distant. He turned back to his red-headed friend and urged him to continue his "fascinating" story.
Ron couldn't get past describing his "Initial Migration Formation with Chasers Flying Above To Intercept The Ball As Soon As We Execute The 'Cloudburst' Play With A Back-twirl Move Just to Confuse Them" before Hermione interrupted him for the second time.
"…I wonder what she's like?"
Ron muttered something incomprehensible under his breath, rolled his eyes, and spoke very pointedly to her. "Hermione, I am trying to explain to Harry our new Quidditch plays. What is it this time?"
"That woman—right there—sitting next to Snape. Well, obviously she's our new Defense teacher; there's no other position available." Hermione explained while looking over to the Head Table. "I wonder what we'll be covering…"
A very exasperated sigh escaped Ron's lips. "Hermione, I'm sure we will find out tomorrow." He stated before shaking his head in amazement and turning back to Harry.
"Anyway, mate, as I was saying; if Angelina and Katie were on the wings…" Ron eagerly started discussing Quidditch again. But Harry wasn't listening. His eyes strayed to the Head Table, to a certain woman sitting next to the Potions Master. She was small, no doubt about that; at about 5 feet 2 inches. Her posture was McGonagall-like, perfectly straight. She wore a deep purple robe, which stood out from the sea of black around her. Her straight hair, a brown color so dark it was nearly black, fell along her face before curving gently around her chin.
The new Professor took a sip of her goblet, letting her eyes wander around the Hall full of students. When she glanced over to the Gryffindor table, an unreadable flash went through those purple irises as she focused on Harry for a moment. But, as quickly as Harry saw it, it was gone.
Harry looked away, intrigue and slight confusion swirling through his thoughts. He pushed those thoughts away and tried, unsuccessfully, to focus back on Ron's animated chattering.
"…Anyway, I said to him--"
"—Oh hush both of you! —The First Years are here!"
Harry and Ron shot annoyed glares at Hermione, before turning to look at the line of small first years timidly walking up to the raised platform at the front of the Great Hall. They were whispering excitedly to each other and they were all…wet?
"Uh…why are they all soaking wet?" Ron asked Hermione, raising his eyebrows at the dripping 11-year-olds who were leaving a nasty trail of lake water behind them.
"Well, it was raining when we got in the carriages, Ron; they had to cross the Lake - remember? In those rickety old boats?" Hermione replied. She turned her attention back to the front of the Hall where McGonagall had placed the three-legged stool and the Sorting Hat.
Harry tried to concentrate on the Sorting Ceremony, and not the curious looks he was getting from the First Years.
"Can you see him? Over there!—with the glasses!"
"Eh?"
"Harry Potter you dolt!"
"I know that, you—oh! I see him!"
"…and when I call your name, please come up to the stool. I will place the Sorting Hat upon your head and you will be sorted into your new House." The stern professor's clear and brisk voice rang out. She stepped back and the rest of the Hall (to the puzzlement of many First Years) waited—as if they expected something.
The ancient, limp, brown hat upon the stool had a large stitch running across the front. And suddenly it opened, and began to sing:
A Sorting Hat I am! I am!
A Sorting Hat you see!
So slip me on and I'll tell you
Right where you should be!
A long, long time ago
Four wizards great and true
Combined their hearts and minds alike
To build this magic school!
Oh Gryffindor, courageous Gryffindor!
Noble, brash, and brave!
Took those with stubbornness and pride
With friends they'd fight to save!
And Ravenclaw, sharp Ravenclaw!
Took only those with qualities she deemed best
Wit, cleverness, and a thirst for knowledge
Which she prized above the rest!
Oh Hufflepuff, sweet Hufflepuff!
Kind-hearted, bright, and loyal!
Took only those with great optimism
And worked hard throughout their toil!
And Slytherin, sly Slytherin!
Selected only those of great ambition
Cunning, stance, and power
All became Slytherin's tradition
But how to chose among the children?
It was Gryffindor that found a way!
He sewed me up and put me on—a Sorting Hat you know!
To sort the children into houses throughout all of Hogwarts' days!
A Sorting Hat I am! I am!
A Sorting Hat you see!
So slip me on and I'll tell you
Right where you should be!
The Hall burst into applause as McGonagall unfurled her scroll and started to call out names. "Adamson, Charlie!"
A small little boy scampered up the stool and hesitantly put the overly large hat on his head. It was a moment before the Hat shouted out: "Ravenclaw!" It continued in this fashion until all the First Years were sorted, ending with Zhang, Xin Jia ("Gryffindor").
Dumbledore stood up and clapped his hands for attention. The Hall fell relatively silent as they regarded their smiling Headmaster.
"Now that we are all Sorted and seated," He began, "I would like to say a few words. First Years, please note that the Forb—"
Dumbledore suddenly cut himself off.Everyone in the Hall was silent, waiting and wondering why the Headmaster had suddenly stopped speaking.
"Er…why did Dumbledore just stop like that?" Ron whispered to Harry, looking up at the Headmaster, who was still silently standing up.
Harry opened his mouth to respond that didn't know, but he became too distracted to answer. From the corner of his vision, he saw Snape's eyes narrow slightly and something akin to concern flash in his charcoal eyes. Harry followed Snape's line of vision and saw…
"Malfoy?" Ron gasped, his voice choked and eyes narrowed suspiciously.
Malfoy? Harry thought, his already unfocused mind now completely puzzled.
The mood suddenly shifted as whispering and muttered conversations broke out like wildfire throughout the Hall. It was minutes before Professor McGonagall could establish some order.
"Attention!" she barked, clapping her hands. "Attention please!"
Dumbledore tore his eyes away from Draco and focused back on the Hall. "Thank you, Professor McGonagall. Order! Thank you." He paused and resumed his speech, speaking over the hushed murmurs of the students. "As I was previously saying; First Years please note that the Forbidden Forest is strictly out of bounds…"
Ron turned around and gaped, the look of astonished disgust on his face similar to those of many of the Gryffindors. "Malfoy?" he said, suspicion evident in his voice. "Why wasn't he on the Express?"
Harry wasn't paying attention, however. He had tuned out the Headmaster's speech and was focused on the blonde Slytherin. Draco had seated himself in his usual spot between Crabbe and Goyle at the Slytherin table. What was unusual, however, was that they were moving away from him and sending him looks of ill-disguised loathing.
Draco Malfoy had changed over the summer; his baby doll features had hardened, giving his face an angular, regal look. His body was slim, almost to a point of being too thin, but still well-toned from Quidditch practice.
But as it seemed to Harry, it was his eyes that were the most noticeable of all his features. His eyes did not show anything: no feeling…no smug superiority…nothing.They were like broken mirrors - reflecting emotions, yet showing none.
---
Whispers still snaked around the Hall, long after the golden plates were littered with remains from the Welcoming Feast. Everyone was satisfied and lazy (including a certain Ron Weasley, judging by the ten chicken drumsticks on his plate) and simply sat around chatting with their friends or shooting looks at a certain blonde Slytherin. Even some of the bolder First Years were pointing and whispering under their breath, only to be ignored by the Malfoy heir.
"…right, Harry?" Seamus asked, grinning boyishly at the boy seated a few seats down from him.
"Hmm? Oh, sorry Seamus, what was that?" Harry looked apologetic as he tried to focus back on the conversation.
"They were discussing the 'Cloudbloom' Formation with Duck Move…or something like that." Hermione said to Harry with a roll of her eyes. It was painfully obvious that a three-hour-long discussion on quaffles, snitches, and formations were the least of her interests.
"'Cloudburst', 'Mione, 'Cloudburst'—not 'bloom'." Ron corrected exasperatedly before turning back to Seamus and asking him his opinion on one of his plays.
---
"Mmm…I'm tired." Dean yawned, trudging sleepily up the stairs to the sixth year boy's dorm. "Night."
One by one, all the Gryffindors made their way up to their separate dorms, looking forward to their pre-warmed (much to Hermione's displeasure) beds and sleep.
Harry was just about to follow Ron up the stairs when Hermione gently called him.
"Harry?" She asked, concern in her eyes. "You…you seemed a little…distracted today. Are you sure you're alright? Well, I mean that--"
Harry forced a smile on his face. "Really 'Mione, I'm fine - honestly. I'm just…look I'm fine, alright? Really. It was just a long…day."
Hermione bit her lip and furrowed her brow. "Harry—you know you can come to me with anything. Absolutely anything, right? And I won't judge you, you can just talk. You know that right?"
The raven-haired teen smiled tightly at her and assured her that 'yes, of course he knew', before walking up to the comfort and familiarity of his dorm.
"Mm…night guys." Came the voice of a sleepy sounding Neville from the corner of the dorm.
"Night Neville, Dean, Harry, Ron." Seamus replied, drawing his hangings shut.
"Night mate." Harry murmured back, rolling over on his side and resting his head comfortably on his pillow. It's good to be back, he thought sleepily.
And at the end of the day, as the night crept through the window and dreams began to softly lull Harry to the bliss of sleep, the last thing he pictured were silver-gray shards of a broken mirror. Reflecting everything and showing nothing.
Hm...I don't know if I like it all that much...even though it took me 4 months to write... /shakes head/ ...
I happen to be quite fond of reviews. :) /nudge nudge/
Elion- Poor Draco indeed. Power of Love/strokes chin/ Hmm...and as for Harry? Well, I guess you'll have to see now won't you?.../wicked grin/ Thanks for reviewing by the way.
Morena Evensong - Thanks for reviewing! I'm glad you like the Death Eater image, and here's your update.
Jhanterre - Thank you so much for your review, it really pleases me that you are enjoying this. As for the other chapters, no I will not be including them. My computer did in fact eat them, but I realized afterwards that the chapters (2, 3, and 4) were underdeveloped and poorly written, so I decided not to incorporate them into the re-written version. However I feel very honored that you're interested in my story! Thanks for reviewing.
Blonde Dragon: Thank you so much for your input in the chapter. (I kept your Sorting Hat verses! Excellent job my dear!) Thanks for reviewing!
Thank you MidnightsRose, Jessijewels, and sinsoftheflesh98 for reviewing!
