I apologize for the wait (again!). I've had a lot going on with recovering from a biopsy and moving into my dorm. Harry's finally reached Hogwarts, secret powers and all.
September 1, 1996
The world had gone to sleep, not knowing it would never wake again. Flickers of grey light appeared here and there, vanishing again in the oppressive darkness of the vast, barren plain. Harry stood alone in the middle of the hellscape, a perfect circle of dead grass radiating out from where his feet were planted. The withered grass was the only vegetation that could be seen for miles.
Harry was trying to move, trying to command his body to listen, but he was frozen in place. Panic was slowly creeping up on him, cold spindly fingers crawling up his back. The lights were flickering faster now, getting closer to his location. The lights gained more definition the closer they were, consolidating into human-like forms. An arm and shoulder here, a torso and leg there, an occasional floating head materializing above the rest.
Faster and faster the lights moved until Harry felt as if he was trapped in the middle of a swirling tornado. Grey was all he saw, roaring wind all he heard, until he woke up flailing and crashed to the floor in a tangle of blankets. He lay there panting for a few moments, hoping that no one had heard him fall.
Once he was sure no one was up and about, he untangled his legs from the blanket he'd fallen asleep under and picked himself off the floor, returning to the bed. Sadly, prophetic dreams were par for the course for him. This one, though, hadn't felt like he had been sucked into Voldemort's mind again. No one except for him and a few partial apparitions had been present. More mysteries, how wonderful.
Harry laid back down, shoving his pillow over his eyes. It was too early to be dealing with this. He drifted off again, hoping to get some more restful sleep before the chaos of the morning came.
The sun streaming through the window woke him before Mrs. Weasley did. Harry squinted his eyes against the glare, wishing the sun would go away and let him be. He'd had a restless night since the dream - nightmare, really - had woken him up. A trio of sharp raps sounded outside the door.
"Harry, dear, we've got several hours before the Express leaves. I'd finish packing if I were you!" Mrs. Weasley said.
"Er, reckon I've already got that covered." Harry sheepishly replied. He'd packed the previous night, not wanting to get caught up in the typical Weasley chaos that preceded the trip to Kings Cross. He could still hear Mrs. Weasley's shouts from last year after Fred and George had nearly knocked Ginny down a flight of stairs by levitating their trunk down it. Such planning was usually not his forte, he thought Hermione would be rather proud of him.
Or she would be, if we were talking like usual, Harry sobered at that thought. The rest of the summer after going shopping at Diagon Alley had been no better. There were still awkward silences, stilted conversations, and silent jealousy - on Hermione's part at least. Ron didn't seem to notice anything wrong with his best mates' relationship, he simply kept trying to entice Harry away from his books.
Harry changed into his school uniform, deciding to leave the robe and tie off until they arrived at Hogwarts. He had bought new trousers at Madam Malkins and was pleased that they actually fit him instead of hanging a few centimetres above his ankles.
He exchanged an excited smile with Ron on the landing on his way to the bathroom and was the second one downstairs. Hermione already had her trunk sitting by the front door and was in full uniform, meticulously eating her breakfast
"Morning, Hermione." Harry greeted her.
"Good morning."
Harry got his breakfast plate from Mrs. Weasley and that was it for conversation. Ginny joined them shortly after and attempted to tell some jokes, but they all fell flat. Eventually, they had all finished eating and Ron still wasn't downstairs. Harry could tell that Mrs. Weasley was getting more and more tense with each passing minute, until it boiled over.
"Ronald Bilius Weasley! We've got to leave, get down here now!" She shrieked, already storming upstairs to have it out with her youngest son. Mr. Weasley passed her on the stairs, shooting an apologetic grin to the trio at the kitchen table.
"Sorry about Ron, he'll be along shortly. Let's get going, then." He exclaimed.
With little fanfare, luggage was piled into the trunk of the single Ministry car Mr. Weasley had managed to acquire. Harry was then unceremoniously squished between Ginny and the window as they piled in, Hedwig's cage wedged between his knees. From his vantage point, he could see Ron running out the front door, a piece of bacon clenched in his teeth and his half closed trunk dangling from his hand. A harried Mrs. Weasley followed, holding Pig's cage. She turned around as Ron shoved his trunk in with the rest, shooting a spell Harry couldn't identify at the front door. A red-faced Ron clambered into the backseat, accepting Pig's cage from his mother through the window. Mrs. Weasley climbed into the unnaturally large passenger seat next to her husband, and they were off.
Pulling up at Kings Cross Station, Harry immediately spotted two imposing figures lurking by the entrance. The Aurors hurried the group to the barrier, ushering the four students through first.
Once Harry pushed his trolley through the barrier and walked off to the side, he took a minute to observe the platform. It was quiet. Conversations were held in a whisper as families stood close together. More Aurors lined the edges of the platform wearing dragonhide robes. War had once again come to the wizarding world.
"Harry, this way!" called Ginny, startling Harry. He followed her to a door in the middle of the train, helping her haul her luggage up. Ron and Hermione followed suit.
"Please be careful this year," Mrs. Weasley pleaded, "No trolls, or basilisks, or Blast-Ended Scooches… Hagrid really ought to have known better with that one. Oh, just keep out of trouble, will you?" She wrung her hands, hugging each of them in turn and tearily saying goodbye. Mr. Weasley hugged his kids too, offering a handshake to Harry and Hermione.
"We'll be fine, Mrs. Weasley," Harry tried to reassure her.
"You might stand a chance this year, with Fred and George gone," Mr. Weasley remarked.
They shared a brief laugh before Mrs. Weasley waved them onto the train and Ron pulled the door shut behind them.
"Right, should we look for a compartment?" asked Harry.
"Hermione and I have got a Prefect's meeting, sorry mate." Ron said. Hermione nodded, having already pinned her badge to her chest.
"I'll catch up with you guys later, then," Harry said. Hermione pulled Ron off down the corridor and Harry and Ginny were left alone.
"Fancy that compartment?"
"Sorry, Harry, I said I'd meet up with Dean," Ginny said, looking mildly sorry. "I'll see you at the Sorting Feast."
"Right, okay." Harry awkwardly waved goodbye to Ginny as she strode away.
Great, just me and my thoughts.
Harry grasped the handle of his trunk, Hedwig hooting at the sudden movement, and set off in search of a decent compartment. As he passed multiple full compartments, conversations fell silent as the speakers stared at him in awe, and when he left, furiously whispered voices started up in his wake. Lockhart had been right about one thing at least; fame was a fickle friend. Harry, used to this treatment, ignored the admirers and at last found an empty compartment near the front of the train. He hefted his trunk and Hedwig's cage up on the luggage rack and flopped down onto the nearest seat.
He'd already pulled a very Hermione-esque move by reviewing all of his textbooks for the upcoming year, paying special attention to Potions, so Harry was out of things to do. He knew Ron and Hermione would have to do some rounds after the meeting, and he wasn't entirely sad about that. There's something to be said for being alone with your thoughts.
"Harry!" The door to his compartment slid open, revealing a blond, lanky young man struggling to fit his trunk through the doorway. Another blonde holding a magazine to her chest looked on in humour.
Spoke too soon.
"Need any help there, Nev?"
"Nah, I got it," Neville panted, finally freeing his trunk. "Nice to see you, mate."
"You too. Hi, Luna," Harry greeted her as she followed Neville into the compartment.
"Where's your stuff?" Harry asked. She held nothing but what seemed to be an edition of the Quibbler.
"I left it with Ginny, I sensed there were Wrackspurts further up on the train," Luna hummed. She examined the space around Harry's head and nodded in satisfaction.
"Er, right."
Neville, unable to hold it in any longer, burst out in excitement, "Check it out!" he exclaimed, pulling down the collar of his shirt. A branching green tree was spread across his chest, limbs reaching for his collarbone while the roots snaked down toward his ribs.
"Congrats, Nev!" Harry leaned in to get a closer look, it was the first elemental mark he'd had a chance to get a close look at since Ron had proudly showed off the flame he'd gotten back in March. "I reckon getting earth wasn't much of a surprise, huh?"
"Gran was right chuffed, though. Said I was taking after my dear ol' dad," Neville beamed. It was clear that he was excited to have this connection with his father, not that Harry could begrudge him that. "What about you, mate?"
"I don't think Harry would appreciate being questioned about that, Neville," Luna piped up. She now had an odd pair of glasses perched on her nose and she was swinging her feet, examining the ceiling in great detail.
"Why not?" Neville asked, quizzically looking at Luna.
Harry jumped in before Luna could say anything else incriminating. He didn't know how she knew anything about how his birthday had gone, but was unwilling to take any chances. "I didn't manifest, that's why."
"...Oh. Oh, that's fine! It's not that big a deal, don't worry about it," Neville hastened to assure Harry.
"Thanks, Nev," Harry grinned. "That's one less thing to worry about, at least."
Harry made a mental note to question Luna about what she knew when they could get some time alone. The trio settled into a comfortable rhythm of conversation, enjoying the relaxed company. The last time they'd seen each other had been at Hogwarts after the Ministry battle. The entire school had had a tense atmosphere about it after it had been made public that Voldemort was back.
Ron and Hermione slipped in after a while, chatting to themselves in a corner of the compartment. The trolley witch came by soon after, selling several Cauldron Cakes and Licorice Wands to the group. Harry contentedly munched on his snack as the sun sank below the horizon.
We must be getting close, he thought. The terrain was gradually morphing into the rolling hills of Scotland, great walls of green stretching up to the sky. Neville suggested they change into their uniforms, prompting Hermione and Luna to leave for the empty next-door compartment to change into their clothes. Harry shrugged on his robe and donned his tie. Being the first to finish, he relaxed by the window and kept a lookout for familiar landmarks.
At last, the train juddered into Hogsmeade Station with a loud whine. Throngs of students spilled out the doors, relieved to be in the fresh air. Harry could have sworn he spotted Tonks at the edge of the platform, but didn't have the chance to look closer before Ron tugged him away.
Ron pulled Harry into a carriage after Hermione, Neville climbing in behind him. Luna had gone off in search of Ginny, telling Harry that they would talk later. Harry could do nothing but trust her. When it came to Luna, it was best to go along with whatever she said.
A few minutes into the carriage ride, Harry felt a sudden feeling of warmth fall over his body. Puzzled, he looked around to see if anyone else had felt it. Hermione and Ron were still engrossed in conversation and Neville had his nose in a Herbology textbook. Nothing looked amiss, so Harry decided to shrug it off and forget about it.
He leaned his forehead against the cool window, watching the ground rumble past along with the occasional flash of a thestral's hoof. Too much was going on to worry about a single hot flash. Eventually, the dirt path turned into cobblestones and the carriage rolled up to the imposing front doors of Hogwarts castle.
Harry and his friends joined the group of students streaming through the doors and into the Entrance Hall. As soon as he set foot on the first step, Harry froze. His brain felt like it was being assaulted, albeit much less painful than when Snape had done it. His vision was washed out, replaced by a field of black. Six faces took center field, different scenes playing out behind them. Harry recognized the central six figures as the House ghosts, along with Professor Binns and Moaning Myrtle. In the scenes he watched, however, they looked very much alive.
The Grey Lady running away from a much newer looking Hogwarts, a rucksack slung across her back. The Bloody Baron chasing after her. Professor Binns holding a pointer stick and lecturing a class of students in outdated uniforms about History. The Fat Friar kneeling in front of a congregation. Nearly-Headless Nick standing in a field of scarlet grass, a blurry figure swinging an axe at his neck. Moaning Myrtle emerging from a bathroom stall, tears trailing down her cheeks.
Just as suddenly as the visions had started, they faded out. The lack of sight remained, myriad numbers of faint pinpricks of light growing ever wider in the darkness. The dots of light joined together, revealing a concerned group of students peering at his face. Once his vision had completely cleared, Harry squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, as if that could help him make sense of what had just happened.
"Are you okay, Harry?" Hermione asked. Her eyes flicked up to his scar before returning to his eyes.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Just a small head rush. Reckon we should head in?" Harry didn't wait for a reply, instead forging ahead through the gap between Ron and Neville's shoulders. Questions were unwanted. Questions would trip him up. Questions would make him curl up into a ball and weep.
Harry finally crossed the threshold, smiling at the warmly lit Entrance Hall. He just hoped he could avoid the incessant interrogations about his manifestation that were sure to come in the days ahead.
He slid into his usual spot in the middle of the Gryffindor table, Ron and Hermione sitting to his right while Neville took the seat across from him. While everyone was settling in, Harry took the chance to examine the head table.
Snape was there, glowering at everyone who dared to look at him. Sprout and Flitwick were chatting, Hagrid trying to unobtrusively listen in. Professors Vector and Sinistra were already drinking something from their goblets. Dumbledore was patiently sitting in his golden chair, smiling benignly at the entering students.
Harry's eyes stopped on the only unknown at the table. A slender woman, all sharp angles and dignified grace. Her black hair was pulled back into a single thick plait that hung halfway down her back, flyaway strands tickling her light brown skin. Her dark brown eyes were constantly moving around, assessing the hall. She was dressed in teacher's robes, but Harry swore that he could see the bulge of a scabbard on her side.
This must be the new DADA teacher, Harry figured. He wondered if this was the Reaper that Death had mentioned sending, he didn't see how else Death could station one at Hogwarts for a full year.
As if the thought had alerted her to his presence, she turned to look at the Gryffindor table, eyes unerringly finding Harry's. She winked, and it took all Harry had to not give anything away on his face. He looked back to the table, trying to catch up on Neville's enthusiastic chatter.
She was the Reaper, then. She was also the DADA teacher. Harry hoped that the immortal servant of Death would at least be competent and not try to kill him. His track record with Defense teachers wasn't the best.