Im not JK Rowling, although id love to be. I just took her stuff out to play, thats all.
Longer chapter, enjoy.
The window showed passing mountains, greenery and blue sky for miles. It was wonderfully sunny beautiful day-one that most of the students on the Hogwarts Express would rather be outside on. Mind you, there weren't nearly as many students as previous years. About half, if one was to place a wager. Not that Hermione, who's mind these thoughts were passing, was one to wager. Nope. She was smart, and, frankly, not poor. She didn't need the money, and knew exactly why there were fewer students.
Professor Minerva McGonagall, scratch that, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall was not quite as powerful as Dumbledore had been, and everyone-she included-knew it. Not that it was a big deal anymore, Voldemort hadn't shown any interest in Hogwarts-save Harry-since Dumbledore was killed.
Hermione turned her face towards Harry. He was taking the death better then he had Sirius', but there were still dark smudge under his eyes, and, when he thought no one was looking, looks of grief crossed his face. Hermione knew them for what they were-grief, anguish and loneliness over someone who meant a lot. She knew them well because they marred her face often.
Ron. Harry and Ginny were talking about Quidditch, of course. Hermione had absolutely no interest in it whatsoever. In fact, she would rather be lectured by Professor Binns, the ghost that taught History of magic then hear all the inticicies that are involved in the perfect Quidditch play. Sometimes she felt so removed from her friends, this being one of those times. She wished that someone was around her intelligence level, and actually enjoyed intellectual conversations. Not to say that her friends were dumb, because they was just not true. They just preferred Quidditch to arithmancy, or anything else even remotely interesting to Hermione.
She sighed, and tried to pay more attention to her friends conversation. Or, at least looking like she was paying attention.
Harry heard Hermione sigh, and stumbled over what he was saying about a new Quidditch move. He looked her way, while still talking to the others. He was worried about her-had for long time now. There was the death of her entire line, the death of Dumbledore the previous year, and, Harry thought this was the killing blow, the realization that school didn't truly matter this year, that the fate of the wizarding world-and the Muggle one-was at a crossroads.
He knew that Hermione could take care of herself-she was the best witch of the year, not to mention the previous decade- but, thats what best friends were for. Ron was doing fine, all in all considered, but Hermione, he wondered sometimes, whether she was faking being alright, or, if she actually was. he suspected a bit of both. He also suspected there was something she wasn't telling him. He figured it was nothing important. If it were, she'd tell him.
With that confident thought, he turned his attention back fully to the conversation, and was happy to see that Hermione has joined, or rather, had attempted to join. She was clever, just not about Quidditch.
Draco walked into his new rooms. The floo was designed to transport him right to his room, so as to not interrupt the teachers, Mr. Filch, the caretaker, or, the headmistress. They were still busy getting the school ready for the arrival of the students, despite the fact that there were so few returning. More wards, and enchantments were in place this year. No one had any illusions as to why this was. Everyone knew that Potter was "the chosen" and was coming back.
Draco rolled his eyes at that thought.
Potter.
Draco had mixed feelings about him at this point. He had happily hated and loathed him for the first 6 years of school, after being snubbed so harshly. His hatred had only increased after he was, time and again, outsmarted, outplayed and (he hated to admit this) outwitted. He had finally gained the upper hand in fifth year, when Umbridge was Headmistress, but that was a short lived victory.
He was, once again, confident this past year, when he had outsmarted him by getting the death eaters in the school. Again, this was short lived, once he realized how terrible of a mistake he has made. This was the one thing that Draco regretted the most in life, and knew it would haunt and torment him for the rest of his sad existence. Not that Draco had any plans of his life being long lived, of course. Once the Dark Lord figured things out, his life would be forfeit. He only hoped that he had a chance to somehow, in some way, make things right again.
Which brought his thoughts back to Potter. He knew that Potter must have been there when Snape killed Dumbledore. He wasn't sure where he had been, but there were 2 brooms that night in the tower, and, logically, how else would he knew to give chase to Snape that night? He knew that Dumbledore's death was his own fault. He had brought the death eaters in, he was supposed to kill him, but lost the nerve. Upon deeper inner inspection, he knew that he never would have killed him. Despite everything, he respected Dumbledore, even liked him.
Ultimately, Draco knew that, somehow, he had to help Potter. Maybe not in a big way, but at least give him some sort of advantage over the Dark Lord. Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to die peacefully.
He wondered, ideally, what Dumbledore and Potter had been out doing. It must have been important to leave the school at night, important and dangerous enough for Dumbledore to come back hurt, perhaps even dying.
Draco shook his head. These thoughts would get him nowhere. He was back at school, in a new set of rooms, and wanted to get organized before the head girl showed up.
Hermione fingered the ring on her finger, watching as the students filed onto the horse-less no longer carriages. She has the sneaking suspicion that she wasn't the only one who could see them now, noting the gasps of students.
The ride to Hogwarts was the same as always, except that there were several more Auror's, half as many students, and a less cheerful attitude from the older students. It seemed as if no one was pleased about Dumbledore's murder.
When they arrived at the castle, Hermione, Ron and Ginny found seats together in the Great Hall, and looked up to the teachers table. Many of the faces seemed sad and melancholy. There were a few new teachers this year. Obviously, one for Transfiguration, since McGonagall would only be teaching NEWT's, and, like every other year, a new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher. Professor Slughorn had agreed to stay at Hogwarts, seeing reason in Dumbledore's death. He was, even still, safer at Hogwarts. Not only would he continue to be Potions master, he also was staying on as the Head of Slytherin.
The DADA teacher looked familiar to both Hermione and Harry, but neither could place her. She had short dark blonde hair, bright green eyes, and a long scar running down her left cheek. She was talking to Professor Sprout, who seemed fascinated by the conversation.
The Transfiguration teacher, however, was not familiar at all. He was older, perhaps 50, with black hair, smattered with white streaks. He looked distinguished, and intelligent. Hermione wondered if he was as good as McGonagall.
The door opened at that moment, admitting the new first years, a small bunch, lead by Hagrid. Since Professor McGonagall was Headmistress, she had given that duty over to Hagrid.
The sorting began, after a few words from the sorting hat, which seemed to be as affected by Dumbledore's death as anyone else. once the sorting was over, Professor McGonagall stood, and called for attention.
"Welcome back, and welcome. I will not say much right now, but Id like to introduce our new DADA teacher, Professor Crysania Majere." scattered applause "And Professor Alan Do'Urden, who is taking my place as Transfiguration teacher" more applause."I would also like to thank Professor Slughorn for continuing to stay at Hogwarts, as Head of Slytherin and potions master." more scattered applause followed. "Tuck in"
The students ate with a vengeance. When the feast was over, McGonagall stood again, and dismissed them all with warnings of the forbidden forest, new rules from Filch, and a reminder of the new security measures taken for protection of the students.
Hermione followed the students out of the hall. She stopped when she felt pressure on her shoulder. She turned and faced her Head of house.
"Miss. Granger, as Head Girl, you have your own quarters with the Head boy. Ill direct you to them."
The pair walked towards Gryffindor tower, but veered off half way there. They talked about the summer, and the new security measures that were in place.
"Here you go, my dear. Everything should be in order. Good night" and with that, McGonagall was gone.
Hermione turned towards the portrait, which was a wood nymph in a rich forest background. The nymph looked at Hermione, who looked back at her.
"The password is, for the moment, fizzing whisbys."
Hermione jumped, looking around her. The voice was definatly not one of a nymph! She spotted him just down the hall. Draco Malfoy.
The new head boy was Draco Malfoy, of all people. This was going to be along year.
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