I was a Gryffindor, of course. How could I not be, with Harry Potter for a father and Ginny Weasley for a mother? I'd known for the past two years that I'd have to jump back in time to help defeat Voldemort, but I'd never tried to evade the journey. I knew I had to be brave for my father's sake.
About three weeks after the wedding, on the morning we would go to King's Cross, I was packing my school things. I'd gone shopping with the rest of the Weasleys and Harry (Hermione had gone home to her parents for the period between the wedding and start of term), and Diagon Alley was just like it was in my time, though less populated, what with the threat of Voldemort. I was comforted by the fact that I knew I would at least survive until June.
Molly had also let me loose long enough to buy a couple sets of school robes and some Muggle clothing. I'd been wearing hand-me-downs from Ginny, but I didn't want anyone receiving any further reminder how much I resembled her. Better to wear a completely different wardrobe. Thankfully, though a couple people had remarked that I looked very "Weasley-ish," only Molly had instantly recognized me for what I was. I chalked that up to a mother's instinct, one that my own mother had yet to develop.
Since Ron, Harry, and Hermione all had their Apparition licenses, they Apparated to King's Cross, and Arthur went with them. Ginny and I were left to Floo with Molly to London and walk the short distance to King's Cross. We met up with the seventh-years there.
Arthur was deep in conversation with his son and his friends when we arrived. I felt guilty that Arthur hadn't been made aware of my real identity, but Molly insisted that Arthur had a terrible poker face, and that Ginny would have sensed that something was amiss.
When we approached, he turned and faced Ginny. "This goes for you too, young lady," he said. "I need for you to be terribly careful this year. I know there are things you think you can do to help, and I appreciate that your contributions are substantive, but I can't lose you, d'you understand?"
I remembered, with a pang, hearing my mother tell me the exact same thing before I left her, eighteen years from now.
Ginny looked a little sullen, but she said, "Yes, Dad."
"Good." Arthur looked at me critically. "Enjoy Hogwarts, Susan. There's nowhere else like it in the world."
I smiled tentatively. "So I've heard."
"Very well." He kissed all of us on our cheeks, and said, "You're old enough that we don't have to follow you onto the platform, right, Molly?"
But Molly glared at him furiously, and soon we were all through the barrier. I smelled the smoke of the Express and remembered my days at Hogwarts, all my friends . . . Elisabeth Wood, Jamie Lupin, my cousin Edouard Weasley . . . .
"Susan, aren't you coming?" I awoke from my reverie to see Ginny climbing aboard the train.
"Yup!" I waved to Arthur, then, before I could stop myself, ran back to Molly.
"Grandma, I'm going to miss you so much," I whispered. "I hate lying to them."
She squeezed me hard, then took me by the shoulders. "It's for the best, Susan. Now go help your parents."
I smiled and ran back to the train, which was gearing up to leave the station. I found my relations quickly; Neville was also in the compartment. I only knew Neville a little; he had moved to Ireland when I was young, and only came back to visit the old crowd on particularly momentous occasions.
Hermione and Ron lingered only for a few moments; as Head Boy and Girl, they had duties around the train. Ginny and Harry sat alongside one another, their fingers inconspicuously laced together, their heads bent together in quiet, private conversation. I hoped looks weren't deceiving, and that Harry actually had taken my advice to heart. There was no need to hurt Mum any further.
Neville, rather at a loss, turned to me. "So, Susan, what subjects do you study?"
"Divination," I said immediately. Actually, I hated Divination -- in fact, I was lousy at it -- but I had to keep up the illusion that I was, in fact, a Seer in training. "Transfiguration, Charms, Herbology, Arithmancy, and Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Whew!" said Neville. "Bit keen, are you? That's quite a load. Will I see you in Herbology?"
"No, I'm in Ginny's year," I explained.
"Too bad," he said and smiled. "The more, the merrier. Ron, Harry, and Hermione take Herbology, but they stick together."
"Oh, Hermione does Herbology?" I was surprised; I knew Hermione was taking at least five other classes at the N.E.W.T. level.
Neville laughed. "Hermione does EVERYTHING. Well, not at the N.E.W.T. level. But third year, she took all twelve subjects!"
"Goodness!" I cried. "I've never heard of anyone taking so many classes."
"Are the subjects the same in America, then?" Neville asked.
"Mostly," I said carefully. "Our Care of Magical Creatures is just called Magizoology, and it's less practical work than you lot do. Arithmancy is standard for all students, but Herbology isn't. Everyone takes a fine arts class; you get to choose whether it's in art, music, or creative writing. We also have electives in Wizarding Culture for Muggleborn kids."
"Oh, I like the sound of that! I'm not half bad at writing, but I'd like a class," Neville said fervently.
"Yeah, we enjoy them." I tried to imagine a course at Hogwarts in creative writing. The thought of my friends and I sitting around and giggling over horribly rhymed verses came over me, and I grinned involuntarily. On the other hand, Neville was right -- the British magical school system left something to be desired in terms of culture. The Americans were a bit more liberal in their curricula. It almost made me wish my story were true.
We reached the school without any Slytherin interferences -- Harry informed me that Draco Malfoy, the head of what he termed the "Death Eater Youth League," had fled school the previous spring, and his followers were not very proactive.
When we reached the castle itself, I sought out Headmistress McGonagall, who was preparing herself to give a speech to the first-years when they arrived.
"Headmistress, I need to give this to you," I said, and handed her a letter sealed with the crest of Hogwarts. She herself had given it to me before I left.
She looked at me quizzically, having no idea who I was or what I was doing in her school. Upon opening the letter, she went white, but to her credit, she read it through. I saw her reach the end, then breathe a few times before she lifted her eyes from the page.
"Ms. Potter, I take it you are traveling under an alias?"
"My surname is believed to be Hopkins," I said carefully. "I'm under Molly Weasley's protection as a long-lost cousin."
"Convenient," she sniffed. "It seems our Hat places you in Gryffindor in the year 2010."
"Yes, ma'am."
"You wish to be appointed to Gryffindor for this . . . temporary stay?"
"If you please, ma'am."
She stared at me for a moment. "You are exceedingly polite, and in that way take after neither of your parents."
I smiled a litle. "Aunt Hermione had a profound effect on me, ma'am."
She thought for a moment, then grinned unexpectedly. "Ah, yes. Of course. Well, take a seat with your Housemates."
I did so, and heard her as I left calling to the first-years to assemble and "sharpen up."
At the table, my relations were happy to see me, though a bit puzzled. "You won't be Sorted?" Hermione asked.
I shrugged, trying to look nonplussed. "McGonagall said there's no point, as I'll only be here two years. She said I might as well be with my family."
Before anyone could comment, the Sorting started. I recognized a few surnames, and I supposed they were older siblings or cousins of my own classmates.
The Start of Term feast was appropriately subdued. Although McGonagall sat in the Headmistress's chair, there was an empty place at her right-hand side symbolizing Dumbledore's absence. Her start-of-term speech was short and sad.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I do believe that there has rarely been a more dangerous time to be a student at Hogwarts," she said, and some murmurs followed the statement. "Nor," she rejoined sharply, "has there been a more important one. Only when good bands together can evil be vanquished. A very wise Muggle once said, 'All that is required for evil to triumph is that good men do nothing.' Perhaps you all must do nothing now, as most of you are still children. But we are giving you the tools here to enter the Wizarding world and become forces for good, no matter when you finally step outside these castle walls for the last time. Only through learning to defend yourselves and protect others can you truly be credits to Hogwarts.
"Let me say this now: there are some among you, I know, who do not feel an affinity with all your fellow students. I ask merely that you do no harm to yourself or any other student. I will consider that payment enough for all the services rendered here.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Albus Dumbledore is dead because some men have allowed their petty grievances to become the lodestones by which they steer their lives. This is a terrible tragedy on many levels. I wish to tell you all that if you ever feel your hearts being pulled towards the Dark, I will come to you, any time of the day or night, and help you to realize that hate begets hate. Nothing good or right or true or just can come of hatred. Please remember this as you begin this year."
With that, she sat down. I, for one, was stunned. The McGonagall I knew was serious, yes, but that speech had been astoundingly somber. But I looked around the Hall and saw that most people didn't even sport a glimmer of surprise.
It was at that moment, more than any one that had come before it, that I began to gain an appreciation for living life in a time of war. I had the advantage in this situation: I knew, to a certain extent, everything that would happen over the coming year. And while my parents were in the thick of it, much moreso than anyone else's, I knew my mother would live.
As for my father . . . .
The truth was, no one knew what would become of Harry during his final battle with Voldemort. Nor, for that matter, of me.
Neville nudged my elbow gently. "Susan, you'd better eat before it all gets whisked away."
I blinked. "Yes. Thank you." I tried to lighten the mood a tad. "I've never seen so much food! We have a buffet-style cafeteria at my old school."
Hermione suddenly took a great interest in my old school. "Really? Buffet?"
"Yes; you take what you want and then get a seat," I said. I suddenly became very grateful to Hermione herself for making me read stacks of books about the Wizarding school I was purporting to have come from.
"And who makes your food?" she asked. I saw Harry and Ron begin to get looks on their face that indicated that they were not thrilled with this line of conversation.
"We have . . . you know, cooks. They're wizards and witches who generally didn't finish school."
"People!" she cried explosively. "You have PEOPLE making your food?"
Oh. I knew where this was going. I wanted to tell Hermione that she would indeed succeed in freeing the elves, given another decade or so, but I didn't think that this would be convincing, even from a Seer. "Yes. Not very many. My school isn't that big, it's not like Hogwarts. American schools don't serve the whole country."
"But they're paid workers!"
I tried to look baffled. "Yes, of course."
"This is exactly what I mean!" she exclaimed, and proceeded to excoriate Hogwarts for its continued use of house-elves. I was momentarily startled at the use of the old, pejorative term, before I realized that it was an older Hermione who had consigned it to the annals of history.
"Thank you so much for getting her started," groused Ron, which earned him a nasty look from Hermione.
By the time pudding was served, Hermione had wound down, much to everyone's relief. Harry didn't say two words together the entire night -- it was clear his mind was elsewhere. Ginny, taking her cue from her boyfriend, was also very quiet. I imagined that they hadn't expected to be sitting here, and the absence of Dumbledore in the Great Hall was a pang they hadn't thought they'd experience again.
Ron and Hermione were a little cheerier. In fact, Ron had begun to make a speech, imitating Hermione's latest elves' right tirade, about "the rights and welfare of seventh-year Gryffindor boys." I decided to tease them, as I'd never gotten the opportunity in my own time, and they were ripe for teasing. "How long have you two been together?" I asked politely.
Neville made a sound that sounded like a snort and ended in a cough. Ginny hissed with barely controlled laughter. Harry just peered at his friends and waited for an answer. For their parts, Hermione and Ron were sitting stock-still, their utensils forgotten in their hands.
"We're not --" Hermione began, then looked at Harry, then back at me. "That is, we --"
Ron sighed. "Oh, get off it, you. Two months now."
Ginny grinned, though Harry looked a bit startled. "Oh," he said. "I knew -- well. Congratulations," he said, and now he seemed to be hiding a smile.
"Yes, well done, the both of you," Ginny said, deliberately being pompous.
"Well, it's high time we got to the common room," Hermione said briskly. Behind her, a fifth-year Prefect called for the first-years to follow her, and we trailed behind the new Gryffindors, who seemed awestruck by absolutely everything. I did my best to emulate them.
The common room was at once achingly familiar and bizarrely out of joint. I kept expecting to see a familiar face, but at every turn I saw strangers.
"I hope the room's adjusted itself to give you a bed," Ginny said. "I'm knackered, and you look it, too."
I yawned. "Righto. Off to Bedfordshire."
Ginny gave Harry a kiss on the cheek, which made him blush even now, and then led me to the sixth-years' dormitory. It was not the room I'd been in all my years at Hogwarts, which made me feel rather like I was trespassing, but I pushed down the feeling.
"Brilliant!" she said. "This bed by mine is new; it's got to be yours."
"Cheers, Ginny," I said fervently. "I don't know what I'd do without you."
She smiled. "Family's family."
"Yes," I said, "but all the same."
She fell asleep before I did, and I started thinking about the next day, when I'd have to start taking classes and interacting with people beyond my little circle. I wondered just how I was going to fit into this crazy year.