Happy Holidays!
(I still own nothing.)
Rumors are an unfortunate and inevitable result of such a large student body in close quarters. After the, er, unusual experiences of last year, rumors and gossip represented a return to the ordinary. It also represented something to distract them from the memories of last year. So of course the rumors were wild and varied.
Most prevalent was the obvious: that the earlier views of Sirius were the more accurate ones. This had a whole series of variations and branches. People like the Minister, Headmistress, and Professor Zeraff were Confounded, Imperiused, or in cahoots. He was using his position as Professor to train himself an army of followers. He was going to set himself as the next Dark Lord.
Gryffindor shot down those rumors with vehemence.
Then there were the rumors about the relationship between Professors Zeraff and Black. If Black's intentions were as his name suggested, Zeraff was by turns his Confounded assistant, his Imperiused slave, or his willing toady. And any wanker with half a brain could tell they were shagging. Why else would she stick her neck out for him?
It was an interesting experience to hear about the rumors and their repercussions from so many varied sources. The professors knew more about the goings-on of the students than they let on, and so all had heard some variation on the entire repertoire of gossip and rumor. Heather was thrilled to have decent teachers for a change, even if she was related to two of them. And even if her aunt wasn't going to go easy on grading her homework, she still felt it important to share any rumors that affected said aunt. Harry had taken Amelia's advice and talked with Sirius. If their relationship felt awkward at times, Harry had no qualms venting to his godfather about the ridiculous nonsense spewed around the school.
Most of Harry's fellow Gryffindor friends were willing to back the two controversial professors. Harry, obviously, wasn't going to do anything but support his recently resurrected Godfather. Ron and Hermione had both been in on the fugitive-Sirius-conspiracy, even before they were unofficially in the Order and met Amelia around Grimmauld Place. Ginny also knew them from the Order activities around Grimmauld Place. Neville, in his new position as hero and former leader, had some weight behind his recognition of Professor Zeraff as one of his mum's old school friends and a regular visitor to his parents in St. Mungo's. And with all the Gryffindor powers in agreement, most of the rest of the House agreed to give the much-gossiped-about Professors at least the benefit of the doubt.
Heather's support was vocal, especially among her fellow Ravenclaws. Luna Lovegood, the third member, with Neville and Ginny, of last year's DA leadership, was heard to loudly declare at breakfast one morning in mid-September that she thought there was a Blibbering Humdinger hiding in the back of Professor Zeraff's classroom and also that Professor Black could keep the Nargles away. This was, coming from Miss Lovegood, high praise.
Filius confessed during dinner one night that the Ravenclaw common room seemed to have become infected with cursed parchment. Anyone heard to spread or support the rumors soon found themselves attacked by creatures made from parchment. There were also a number of similar incidents that did not occur behind the eagle door knocker. None of the afflicted students had gone to a teacher for assistance, so there was no official inquiry into the events. He was pleased to report, however, that the rumormongers quieted down after repeated attacks by parchment dragons, sphinxes and acromantulas. On a completely unrelated note, Heather was remarkably proficient in Charms, and had given him a parchment pixie that was rather more enjoyable than a living specimen.
This meant the majority of students in Ravenclaw stopped spreading idle rumors about their Professors. Slytherins were still too cowed to be so potentially disruptive. With Gryffindors actively stamping the rumors out, that left only Hufflepuff to spread them. Without an audience to carry the rumors, even Hufflepuff couldn't keep them alive without any vaguely corroborating evidence. As a result, by the time October got underway, many of the rumors had faded to dust and memory.
Especially since the students pretty much decided en masse that they had better things to do with their time.
Like Quidditch.
There hadn't been Quidditch under the previous year's administration, although the Carrows hadn't been stupid enough to actually attack the pitch itself. Apparently even they knew such an action would bring all the students down on them. But as part of May's battle, a group of Death Eaters had been malicious enough to think burning down the Quidditch Pitch would be a grand idea; the trampling giants and rogue spells and whatnot that were flying back and forth during the battle spelled the end for whatever remained of the stadium. And with not insignificant damage to the castle proper, repairing the stadium hadn't exactly been Minerva's first concern.
The students didn't share her concerns. More than one had stopped to stare in horror at the remains of the field on their way into the Castle the first of September, and the headmistress' commentary on the subject at the welcome feast hadn't done much to assuage those feelings. Groups of semi-rabid Quidditch fans met to hash out plans to rebuild the pitch as quickly as possible so that they could return to their beloved game, but little came of it.
The first viable, practical idea came from the sixth year N.E.W.T. Charms class where a particularly devoted Hufflepuff girl asked Professor Flitwick if the Transmogrification Charms they were learning could be used on the Quidditch stands. (Or rather, to construct the Quidditch stands.) After careful consideration, Flitwick decided the charms would not harm the integrity of the seating and awarded the slightly embarrassed girl fifty House points. He then promptly proceeded to instruct the class on how to use their charms to build constructs of wood.
The following day, Professor Vector presented her students with the various calculations they would need to determine to properly assemble the optimal Quidditch arena, while Amelia had the different years doing everything from conjuring planks to transfiguring chairs.
After a rather enthusiastic staff meeting, Minerva authorized a deviation of the curriculum to more construction based work. This was met with resounding cheers when she announced it that night at dinner.
Students almost unilaterally decided to abandon such pursuits as Gobstones and Exploding Snap and instead formed work parties to brainstorm what spells they knew could be used to bring them closer to Quidditch.
When the Headmistress caught wind of that she suggested the interested parties gather in the Great Hall, so they could confer with other students and get advice from the professors. Students of all Houses and years thought that was a brilliant notion and could be found talking animatedly among themselves every night after dinner. Amelia thought it looked a bit like study hall, but noisier. When she mentioned aloud that she also thought it could help bring the Houses together, Minerva demurred and professed to not having had any ulterior motive when she'd made the suggestion.
Sirius congratulated the Headmistress on her first act of manipulating the students For Their Own Good.
Several weeks later, when Minerva came to the staff meeting late and frazzled from arguing with the Standardized Test Administrators and explained that she was trying to convince them to update the testing material to something more practical and less showy, so that the students didn't have to form quasi-legal clubs to learn useful spellwork, Amelia joined her mother in congratulating her on taking the first step toward modernizing the magical world since the Hogwarts Express was adopted in 1839.
Minerva blinked in surprise but quickly marshaled her thoughts. "I will not have any more of my students harmed because the Ministry still believes conjuring canaries is a more important skill than conjuring something like bandages. If last year taught us anything, it's that our current system is dangerously flawed and easily exploited."
"No objections here," Amelia reassured the overburdened headmistress.
"I'm the last one to support the previous Ministry," Sirius retorted.
The other staff members echoed their agreement, even Slughorn, albeit a bit less enthusiastically. The Potions Master did enjoy the fruits of his network after all, and wasn't one to join the vanguard of anything new and unproven, although even he had vivid recollections of students lying dead on the floors of Hogwarts because he didn't even make a token protest.
For their part, most students were too focused on we want Quidditch back to worry about the fact that their fellow Quidditch enthusiasts helping get the stadium back into shape for spectators were from a different House, or even – horror of horrors! – Slytherin. Participation increased further when Harry made an off-hand comment about not considering people for the team if they didn't help in the building project. As he had the joint titles of Boy-Who-Lived and Gryffindor Quidditch Captain giving weight to his words, the other captains decided to take that bit of good sense and make it law. Anyone who wanted to try for a spot on their respective team needed to be a regular attendant at the planning and building meetings.
To quell over-enthusiastic students from making potentially disastrous blunders, Minerva also announced that any and all work outside of brainstorming and on the stadium itself was to be overseen and approved by a professor. By this point everyone was becoming excited by the perceived progress and enough knew that one good-intentioned spell gone awry could set them back, so no one complained about the limitation.
Students alternatively badgered, pleaded, and otherwise bribed their friends to get involved. It helped that all the professors were being surprisingly liberal about awarding House points throughout the endeavor, although any whose grades slipped were cut from the project until they brought their grade back up. That didn't stop the entire school from getting involved in the undertaking. Outside of curfew, there was always at least one professor in the Great Hall to supervise. And after more than one complained about being run-ragged by enterprising students with ideas making them run back and forth around the Hall, Minerva hired a few masonry and architectural wizards to keep everything more-or-less orderly and on point.
The professionals were impressed by the level of interest the students had taken in the project. Horace took the opportunity to expand his network of contacts and names-to-drop, while Pomona wryly predicted a rise in students choosing construction related careers.
The second week in October, interest in the rebuilding project spread past the school grounds when it headlined on the front page of The Daily Prophet.
STUDENTS UNITE TO BRING BACK QUIDDITCH!
The castle and grounds at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry sustained a lot of damage in the decisive battle that took place there in May. So much damage, in fact, that although newly appointed Headmistress Minerva McGonagall had teams of masonry wizards working all summer long, when the students returned in September to a restored castle, they were treated to the horrifying sight of bare earth where their beloved Quidditch Pitch once stood. None of the Headmistress' assurances that the stadium would be rebuilt pacified the dismayed sports fans.
Now, what began as an innocent suggestion from a N.E.W.T. Charms student has spawned into a massive-project bringing together all attendees of the school, regardless of age or House affiliation. Centered in the school's Great Hall and broken only by meals and curfew-enforced bedtime, students gather to plot out the reconstruction under the guidance of professors and professionals.
Renowned Architect-Wizard Phoebus Makebrich, brought out of retirement to work on the castle this summer, returned to take part in this student-driven project. "I have been doing this for seventy-six years and never in all that time have I seen this level of active participation from the affected parties . . . but then, it's never been their Quidditch Pitch on the line before."
Other observers to the intense planning meetings marvel how the common goal breaks down the deep-seated House divisions – Hufflepuffs brainstorm animatedly beside Slytherins and neither are concerned with the color of their neighbor's uniform. One Ravenclaw parent says, "I wasn't sure about sending my son back, after last year. One of his prefects didn't make it out, you know. And when his letters stopped coming – I thought the worst! But the boy has been obsessed with Quidditch since he found out brooms could fly . . . I'm relieved he has finally taken an interest in his studies."
With all the students volunteering their time and labor, their stadium is rapidly (ctd. page 4, column 2)
The next day the Prophet announced Puddlemere United offered to hold a charity game, playing against their own players, with the proceeds going to fund the construction of the Hogwarts Quidditch Pitch. In the week that followed, all twelve other teams in the British and Irish League announced similar goals. Minerva disappeared into the Ministry Department of Magical Games and Sports with thirteen team managers one day and came back with the news that not only was the league paying for the stadium, but they were also replacing the school's brooms with a full set of Cleansweep Fourteens; the remaining galleons raised by the newly announced Rebuild charity tournament would be donated to aid victims of last year's violence. The Rebuild Cup would in no way affect the League Cup.
No one was entirely sure how one decimated Quidditch Pitch broke down ages-old rivalries at Hogwarts and came close to revitalizing the British Magical Community all on its own, but the Prophet and the Ministry were certainly capitalizing on the publicity and momentum and the Magical Community as a whole was thrilled to have something uplifting to focus on as they rebuilt and moved forward.
Bound up in the furor and excitement as the Quidditch Pitch finally began to take shape, Amelia was caught flatfooted one morning when she got up for breakfast and saw jack-o-lanterns floating above the tables in the Great Hall. Freezing mid-step she stumbled, and although she regained her footing, she didn't manage to regain her composure.
Icy misery coiled in her stomach as she realized Halloween was upon her.