The sunlight rests lazily in the windowsill of Harry's room as he packs the last of his belongings into a trunk. He smiles fondly and pats both his Death Eater and Healer robes. They'll be staying here, on his bed, as he won't find any use for them in Hogwarts.
The quill-portkey Tom gave him rests in his pocket, along with the silver broch and a two-way mirror.
"You must be finished soon," Athie hisses exasperatedly. She's curled up on Harry's pillow, where she's been staying ever since he woke up. "This place smells."
"You just want to see new places," Harry replies amusedly without looking up from the trunk. He closes it, locks the hatch, and casts a shrinking charm on it before stuffing it in his pocket. "But yes, I am ready. Coming?" He places his hand on the pillow, and with a disgruntled hiss, Athie slithers up his arm. She's just slender enough to be undetectable if Harry's wearing school robes – and if he ever has to wear something else, she can just as easily be hidden in a satchel.
Tugging his robes down over his arm, Harry exits his room and makes for the library. There's a fireplace connected to the Floo network in one of the sitting areas, and Tom's waiting for Harry there.
The trek to the library is short and uneventful, two Death Eaters bowing at him as he passes being the most interesting thing happening. "Are you ready?" Tom asks, when Harry comes to a stop in front of him.
"Ready as I'll ever be, Tom," Harry chirps with a grin.
"You have the portkey?" Tom asks anxiously. Harry pulls the quill out of his pocket. "Mirror?" Rolling his eyes, Harry pulls out the mirror from his other pocket. "Snake?"
"Oh, for Merlin's sake, Tom," Harry sighs. "I'm good to go. I've been at Hogwarts before. Calm your tits."
Tom grimaces. "I will do no such thing," he huffs. Then he sighs. "Well, of you go, then," he mutters. He holds out a pouch made from woven Acromantula silk.
"Show off," Harry mutters. He hides a grin and takes the offered Floo powder. "Disguise, Tom."
Tom startles, but clears his throat quickly and taps Harry's scar with his wand.
"Thanks," Harry beams cheerily, standing up on his tip-toes to press a mocking kiss to Tom's cheek before going to stand in the fireplace. "Platform Nine and Three Quarters," he says, throwing a pinch of the green powder into the fire without giving Tom the time to react to the surprise kiss.
A few sickening turns later and he steps out into the hustle of the Platform. Athie hisses uncomfortably from his arm, and he nudges her gently to remind her to stay quiet. Squinting, Harry peers into the crowd to see if he can spot anyone he recognizes – and ah, yes. Draco is standing over by his parents, looking for all the world as if he's just chatting with them – but Harry knows better.
He makes his way through the crowd. "Hey, Draco!" he calls. The boy turns to glance at him, a relieved look flitting across his features before he schools them. "Been waiting long?"
"No, not at all," Draco says. He turns to Lucius and nods. "Father." Then to Narcissa. "Mother. I'll send you letters."
Lucius nods back. Narcissa offers him a soft smile.
"Well, shall we go?" Draco asks of Harry, who nods and begins to make his way over to the train. Draco hurries to catch up with him. "Am I still sitting with you?" he mutters quietly.
"Yes," Harry says. "Wonderful if you'd include some of your minions."
"They're not – " Draco begins, looking uncomfortable.
"Friends, then," Harry says, giving an unbothered shrug. "Not much of a difference."
Draco gives him a calculating look, but shakes his head and lets it go.
Harry makes his way to his friends' carriage quickly, Draco following behind. Crabbe and Goyle are hot at their heels, which isn't that surprising, really, but still manages to draw many shocked gazes. When Harry enters the carriage his wand points him to, he's met by two smiling faces, two shocked, and one serene.
"Hermione, Ron," Harry greets, "Neville, Ginny, Luna."
Hermione scoots over to make space for Harry. Ron, looking distinctively uncomfortable, makes space for Crabbe. Still looking confused but not too terribly shocked, Neville follows his friends' examples and lets Goyle sit next to him. Draco manages to squeeze in next to Luna and the window.
The first few moments are spent in an uncomfortable silence, only broken by Luna's quiet humming as she reads the Quibbler.
"So…" Neville finally says. All eyes turn to him. "Would someone please explain why Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle are in our compartment with us?"
"Why, of course," Harry says. "Hermione?"
Hermione splutters, turning wide eyes on him. "Me?" she exclaims. "Why me?"
"I don't trust Ron," Harry admits. "Maybe Draco would like to explain?"
Ginny and Neville exchange gazes, both of them mouthing 'Draco' with surprised looks.
Draco makes a pained expression, but delves into the story.
When he's done, they're already half-way to Hogwarts.
"Wow," Neville says. He looks decidedly more comfortable now than he did in the beginning of the ride. "That's one big mess if I've ever seen one."
Harry shrugs. "Since we were outed to Hermione and Ron a few days ago, we had a quick talk and decided to come out in the open about it."
"What about Dumbledore?" Ginny asks, a worried frown etched into her forehead. "He's been worried sick about you."
"I sent a letter with Hedwig this morning," Harry explains. "Mr. Malfoy broke the wards he's kept around me since the beginning of summer, so I was finally able to explain stuff over written word."
"Oh," Ginny says. She doesn't stop frowning. "Do you think he'll accept that?"
Considering he loves giving people second chances? Heck yeah. "He doesn't have much of a choice, now, does he?" Harry says. "I just hope he won't be too mad."
Hermione gives him a soft look. "Oh, he won't, Harry," she assures him. "I think he'll be very happy for you. And you, too, Mal – Draco," she adds, turning the soft look on Draco.
"…thank you," Draco says.
It sounds genuine.
Harry stares. Everything has been going just fine, everyone's coming along just perfectly, no one has even died yet – and then he'd stepped over to the carriages and come face to face with a winged beast.
Thin, dark leather is pulled tight over fragile bones and pale, milky eyes, the horse-like creature giving off an ominous yet calm aura..
Harry swallows.
"Wh – what's that?" he asks. Hermione, Ron, Ginny and Neville all look confused. Crabbe and Goyle don't even react, while Draco gives Harry a scrutinizing look. Luna doesn't appear affected beyond some light amusement.
"Thestrals," she says lightly.
"Only people who have seen death can see them," Draco explains softly. Hermione looks alarmed. Neville pales a little.
"-oh," Harry breathes. He takes a step closer. "Cedric," he concludes. And if he hadn't been enough, the four deaths he'd seen after the summer began would probably have helped, as well. The thestral huffs, a puff of warm breath in the cold autumn night.
Harry puts a hand to its muzzle and smiles.
So this is what death looks like.
"Let's get in," Ginny pleads, looking distinctively disturbed.
Harry steps away and gives her a smile meant to calm. He's practiced it in the mirror. "Sure," he offers lightly. "Let's go."
Hermione, Ron, Neville, Luna, Ginny, and Harry all scamper into one of the carriages. There's not space for more, so Draco and his minions make their way to the next one. Once the six students sit down, Neville frowns. "I wonder where Hagrid is," he says.
"He's prolly just sick or something," Ron shrugs.
Hermione frowns as well. "Maybe," she sighs. "I certainly hope so."
Harry blinks. Is Hagrid missing? That's… that's something he probably should've noticed. Athie grumbles something, but thankfully Luna decided to speak up just then, so no one heard Harry's impatient snake.
Maybe he shouldn't have accepted her. God knows how people will react when they find out he's got a snake.
Harry notices, when they enter the Great Hall, that Hagrid is missing from the Head Table. He feels a twinge of worry, but that's nothing compared to Hermione, Ron, and Neville's concerned expressions. "Relax," Harry mutters, as they sit down and wait for the first years to be sorted. "He's fine. Dumbledore knows we care for him; he would've told us if something happened."
Hermione gives him a surprised look. Why? Is she surprised he can think for himself? She opens her mouth and draws a breath, but just before she can speak, Dumbledore begins his yearly preach.
Harry knows that the man only repeats the same rubbish every year, and so he only bothers to listen with half-and-ear –
Until Dumbledore's interrupted by a stocky woman clad in glaring pink.
Harry stares intently at her as she speaks. She's certainly not very pretty to look at, but her voice and stance show that she's very sure of herself and her position. As her speech unfolds and Harry realizes more and more of what she's saying, he understands why.
"Well, that was a load of rubbish," Neville mutters afterward.
"No," Harry says, frowning lightly. "Didn't you listen at all?"
Again Hermione shoots him a surprised look. "What did she say, Harry?" she asks, leaning forward with a glint in her eye.
Subtle, Hermione. Really, double-checking if he really was paying attention? How Slytherin of her. "The Ministry is interfering in Hogwarts," Harry says. He frowns. "Really, Hermione? I thought you, of all people, would understand as much."
Hermione flushes. "No, that's not – I didn't – "
"Anyway," Harry says, leaving Hermione to be flustered. "I'm excited to see what the Ministry has to offer Hogwarts." He frowns as he says it, to give the others a feeling that he doesn't like this one bit.
Honestly, it isn't that bad – for him, that is. He's supposed to get into the Minister's good books, and if this woman is operating on his behalf, then he should probably stay on her good side. Even if she looks like a toad and has the most horrible fashion sense he's ever seen – including the time his sister had bought him those horrible robes from Spain.
Harry grins at the memory of his old life and risks a look at the Headmaster. After a few short moments, the man turns his head and notices Harry staring at him. Harry offers him a tentative wave, which the old fool returns warmly, before raising his cup in a small toast and turning away.
Excellent. He's accepted the story.
When Dumbledore calls it a night, Harry loses sight of Neville after a few moments within the bustle of the tired crowd. Not thinking too much about it, Harry makes his way through Gryffindor Tower. When he arrives at the dormitory, Seamus and Dean are the only ones already there. They're in the process of hanging posters all over the walls when Harry enters. They'd been talking to each other, chatting merrily about something or another, but the moment Harry steps into the room they grow suspiciously quiet.
"Hey," Harry greets, pulling his trunk out of his pocket and enlarging it with a tap of his wand.
"Hi, Harry," Dean replies. He sounds cheery. Too cheery. "Good holiday?"
"It was great," Harry says, throwing an enthusiastic smile over his shoulder. "Yours?"
"Yeah, it was okay," Dean chuckles. "Better than Seamus', anyway."
Harry raises an eyebrow and turns around. "Oh? What happened?"
Seamus hesitates, his hand lingering on his poster for a moment before he replies. "Me mam didn't want me to come back."
Harry rakes his eyes over his turned back; notices the tenseness in his shoulders, the guilt in his voice, the elbows pressed tightly against his sides. "Why?" he asks softly.
"…well, because of you," Seamus admits. He turns away from his poster, but still doesn't look at Harry.
Ah. He'd known this would be coming up. "It's – it's the Prophet, isn't it?" Harry says. Seamus startles a bit, but otherwise doesn't react, and Harry sighs. "Voldemort isn't back," he says firmly. The reaction is immediate; Seamus twirls around, Dean's eyes widen, and even Athie hisses from within Harry's robes. "Cedric's d - death was a horrible accident in the maze. Dumbledore is the one who has far too much trust in his students." Good, Harry, good – stumble in your words, it makes you seem nervous and emotional.
Seamus gapes. "But – but why did you say – "
Harry grimaces. "Well, er… I realized during summer that I'd walked through some hallucination-ish fog," he admits sheepishly, rubbing his shoulder and looking down at his feet. "I owled Dumbledore about it, but he said that we should still tread with caution or some rubbish like that."
He's playing a dangerous game, he knows. He didn't owl Dumbledore. If Seamus or Dean goes to him about it, or start spreading rumors that he eventually hears about… but they're not very gossipy-people. Hopefully they won't make this any harder than it already is.
"So – so you're not – you don't – "
Harry shakes his head. "Nah, if anyone's barmy, it's the Headmaster," he says dismissively. "Feel free to tell your mam that."
Seamus tries to hide it, but Harry can easily see that he slumps over in relief. Obviously this has been weighing him down quite a lot. "Well, if that's all," Harry says cheerily, wishing to give him and Dean a bit of privacy, "I'm going to bed."
Seamus nods absentmindedly, a light shining in his eyes, and with a small headshake, Harry crawls into his bed and closes his hangings. He casts a sticking charm on said hangings, followed quickly by a slightly overpowered mufflatio.
Without further ado Harry tugs of his outer robes, lets Athie slither over his bed, and fishes out his two-way mirror.
"Tom," he calls calmly.
Only a few seconds pass before the surface of the mirror ripples, reflecting the light like water under a crescent moon, and then Tom's face appears in it. "Harry," he greets, dipping his head politely. "How was the trip?"
Harry rolls his eyes. "Cut the formality, Tom," he sighs. "The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts, sending a woman to work as the Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."
Tom blinks. "Oh," he says. "Well. That's certainly nice."
Harry barks a laugh. "I absolutely despise her," he informs courtly, "but she's acting on behalf of Fudge, so…"
Tom gives him a stern look. "Get in her good books, Harry," he orders, "no matter what it takes."
"Yes, dear," Harry mutters mockingly.
They lapse into a silent that aches, both of them losing the faintly joking air. The bond twinges, but Harry barely notices it, buried under his own longing as it is. He sighs, absentmindedly dragging one finger down the face of the mirror.
Tom, noticing this, softens further. "You have the portkey," he offers gently. "If it gets too bad…"
"Yeah," Harry says quietly. He nods and pulls back his hand. The problem is that it isn't even the bond. It's Harry. "Yeah. I know."
Tom nods tightly and disappears from the mirror.
Harry stares at his own reflection for a few minutes, hear trembling at the sad shadow pulled flush over his features. Finally he sighs, stuffs the mirror under his pillow, and tucks himself to bed. Athie slithers up to him and cuddles into his chest.
"Problems do not solve themselves, hatchling," she informs him. It's the gentlest Harry's ever heard her before. "I expect you to solve this one yourself." Ah, there the sharpness is.
"I don't know if I can," Harry whispers. He feels younger and smaller than he's done in years, wraps his arms around his torso, and screws his eyes shut.
The bond twinges. Again. It is overshadowed by Harry's own emotions. Again.
Athie sighs softly and rubs her face against his shoulder. Harry, thankful for what little comfort he can get, hisses a quiet thank you and goes to sleep.