A/N: I own nothing. Below, you'll find my own personal attempt at a Sorting Hat song. I owe a ton of thanks to stella8h8chang for reassuring me that it's not rubbish and for helping me out with the rhythm of the song. Poetry and songwriting is so not my forte, but it is definitely hers. I now have a new respect for JKR and her writing style.
Chapter 17: The Feast from Hell
"Firs' years, over here!"
Rubeus Hagrid's mighty yell cut through the commotion of students: the older ones, clamoring to get to Thestral-drawn carriages, and the little first-years, struggling to reach the giant gamekeeper who would lead them to their boats.
Daphne Greengrass was stumbling through the mass, trying to get to the front to talk quickly with the half-giant.
"Daphne!" Hagrid boomed. "Yeh doin' al'righ'?" There was a weary heaviness in his voice.
"Cheers, Hagrid," she said with haste; there was nothing cheery about her greeting. "How're things up at the school?" There was a note of caution in her voice.
"Oh, it's a righ' crime, I'm tellin' ya!" Hagrid shook his great big head vigorously; Daphne thought she felt the ground shake underneath her feet as he stomped both feet on the ground in agitation. "I can' believe tha'—" Hagrid leaned towards her; the Slytherin leaned away, anticipating more bellowing and projectile spittle. "I can't believe that ruddy bastard, that murderer, dares to dirty Dumbledore's office!" Hagrid straightened himself up. "I had a mind to toss him ou' on his, well, his you – know – wha'!"
Daphne had no chance to agree with him, because, at that moment, she felt a violent tug on her robes.
"Malfoy!" Hagrid pointed a large, angry finger at the Head Boy. "You don' manhandle girls like tha'—"
Malfoy sneered at the rebuke. "Good thing," he spoke loud enough so only she could hear. "I was manhandling a common street whore."
Daphne snapped her body around and bared her teeth. "Do your fucking job, Malfoy, and leave the snide comments alone, or else—"
"Else what?"
"Or else," she pushed her face towards him, "I'll make sure every single student here knows where you were the night Dumbledore died."
Malfoy laughed cruelly. "Go – ahead Greengrass, if you haven't noticed yet — we won! The Ministry'll celebrate my role in bringing down the Headmaster. They'll respect me!" He jabbed at his chest with his finger.
"If that's the case, then why do you look like you haven't slept in the past nine months?"
Malfoy retreated away from her, still staring her down.
She smirked at him and crossed her arms. "I bet it's eating away at you. You look like shit on the bottom of my shoe, and I – know – why."
Malfoy gritted his teeth. Without a sound, he flung himself away from her and began yelling, "OLDER STUDENTS! GET YOUR ARSES IN THE CARRIAGES — NOW!" He stormed toward them, flapping and flailing at the students who were standing at the carriages just as they were pulling up.
"Bloody hell, Daphne."
She jumped and faced the speaker. Ginny Weasley patted her on the shoulder. "You handling the prat all right?"
Daphne sagged her shoulders and groaned. "I'm in hell. I know it." She rubbed her face. "I'm in the fifth concentric circle of hell, and Draco Malfoy's the demon sent to torment me . . . or something."
Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood trailed behind her with grimaces. "Anything that we can do?" Neville asked her sympathetically.
She shook her head sadly. "It's nothing I can't handle. I'll be fine."
Luna watched as Malfoy continued to rail and yell at the students. "It's a shame, really. Do you know what I think Draco's problem is?"
Daphne raised a dubious eyebrow at her. "Luna, it's not Nargles or Horking – Forking – Whatever – Lumps."
"No, I know that. I think his problem is he's in so many different places right now, that he has no center. No core."
She looked at Luna, confused. "I don't get it." Daphne started walking and motioned for the others to follow her.
Luna explained her point. "He's here at school, probably out of a sense of duty to his family. He's joined, or partially joined, the Death Eaters, possibly because it's what his father wanted. He was ordered to kill Dumbledore because He – Who – Must – Not – Be – Named commanded him to." Luna regarded the group, her eyes unusually protuberant in the stark moonlight. "Draco is losing himself to the people that are forcing him to do bad things, and he's losing himself to his own guilt."
The three teenagers stopped walking and watched Malfoy, continuing flap his arms and yap away at the students.
Daphne shook her head at the Head Boy. "The last thing I need right now is to feel sorry for that pissy little wanker."
Luna turned towards her and smiled. "Why," she said in her eternally dreamy voice, "you already do."
As soon as she stepped foot in the Great Hall, she staggered back. Her hand clenched at her stomach and forced herself to control her breathing.
Around the Great Hall were posted several dark-cloaked sentries. Their arms were folded with a sharp precision, their wands pressed against their right forearms.
At the center of the room, in front of the long table at which the teachers normally sat to share the meal, stood Amycus and Alecto Carrow. Their eyes scanned the room, sneering at the students, which made their already unattractive visages even more so.
And, between them, tall, dark, and glowering, was Professor—
(Headmaster now, Greengrass.)
Headmaster Severus Snape.
Daphne felt her blood boil, her temperature rise. A chill ran down her back, through her spine, and shot directly into her arms. She felt her hands ball up into fists, ready to attack someone — with or without provocation.
She shook and quivered where she stood, watching him . . . frozen . . .
Wanting to hex . . . to maim . . . to—
An arm curled around her, and pulled her in toward the Slytherin table. Guiding her to an empty seat, the arm literally pushed her down on the bench.
"Hey!" Daphne looked directly across from her. Millicent Bulstrode and Theodore Nott were staring at her.
She felt someone climbing into the bench to her right. Looking over, she glared at Blaise Zabini.
"What the hell was that, Blaise?"
"In case you didn't realize it, Missy, you were creating quite a little scene, staring down the Death Eaters that are running our hallowed halls. You were just standing there, hands balled up into fists, ready to get your arse handed to you." Blaise's pointed his finger at Daphne, poking at her in quite a violent fashion.
"Watch it!"
"Well watch your-self!" Blaise shot back. He leaned into her. "It won't matter one bit if you're Head Girl or you're the best little snake that you can be. The idea is to operate under the radar, not draw unnecessary or unwanted attention to you—"
"But—"
"Daphne."
She looked over. Millicent Bulstrode had a very mild expression on her face, one that looked like she was trying to keep a solid, controlled mask to hide any obvious emotion. "I think Blaise is on the right track about this. Stop while you're ahead."
Daphne raised her brow skeptically. "Well, color me impressed. You're picking up on external stimuli rather quickly."
Millicent stated at her, flatly annoyed. "I'd can the sarcasm, Daphne. I'm trying to help you." She wriggled her finger, motioning for her to come closer. "Look down the table." Millicent jerked her head to the left and Daphne obeyed.
She flinched when she saw the cold, furious stare of Pansy Parkinson. She wasn't sitting where she normally would be, plastered next to Draco Malfoy's side.
Rather, she and Tracey Davis (that cowardly bint!) were sitting by themselves, speaking in hushed tones between themselves, and staring at Daphne with glares that could've stabbed her if they were knives.
"You'll not only have to deal with the new 'staff members'," Millicent began, wriggling her finger as mock quotation marks, "but you're gonna have to deal with Parkinson and Davis in the girls' dormitory. And you didn't hear Parkinson on the train." Millicent shivered as she remembered. "She's even more furious with you than last year."
Daphne looked outraged. "Why the hell is she? Because I'm Head Girl and she's not?" She snorted. "Someone ought to remind her that she fought me last year. She threw the first punch. She started that bloody fight — literally bloody, I might add — when she was a prefect. Snape was the one who took her privilege away . . . not me!"
"Well, that's part of it," Millicent offered. "But I don't think that's all of it." She looked off to her right as if trying to remember something. "Parkinson kept going off about how you know something. About what happened on the Astronomy Tower that night that the Headmaster died. She freaked herself out as soon as she brought it up. Kept going on about how you don't actually know anything, why the hell did you even bother talking to her, why—"
"SILENCE!"
The all-too-familiar voice broke through the cacophony of the students talking amongst themselves. The hall fell quiet. Every single head snapped to the front, towards the source of the voice.
Daphne looked over at Millicent. The girl mouthed "Later" to Daphne and turned back to see what announcements Snape was going to make.
He glided forward and stood in the middle of the cavernous room.
"Brr-ing the first years in."
On cue, the door opened, and the new students flowed into the space, with Hagrid bringing up the rear. There were so many more than last year, that Hagrid, Daphne, and even Malfoy (although he had grumbled and complained the entire time) had to Enlarge the boats as much as possible while still making them float-worthy. When they still needed more transport for the first years, Daphne and Malfoy had simply started tossing them into the Thestral-drawn carriages.
She looked at the nervous, sweating, twitchy faces. Their eyes took heed of the robed figures standing around the room, and of the Carrows.
And, of course, Snape.
"Minerva," Snape called out.
Daphne watched as the old Scottish witch walked with broad steps and fiery eyes toward the center of the hall. She Levitated a tall wooden stool and Sorting Hat, making it stop just to her right.
"Head-master," McGonagall drawled out in a disgusted tone, "it would be best if you refrained from calling me by my proper name. Such informalities are reserved for only the closest of comrades."
Daphne resisted clapping, but she couldn't help smiling at McGonagall's thoroughly dignified, but no less potent, put-down.
Snape, for his part, appeared to have froze, his face an impassable mask towards the snappy comment.
"Very well." Clicking his heels together, Snape spun sharply around and strode back toward the table.
Daphne watched as the old, faded chunk of fabric moved as if it were frowning at the Carrows and the dark sentries posted around the perimeter of the school. All unexpected and all unwelcome.
Suddenly, the brim of the hat ripped open, and its song came tumbling out:
Though you must find me quite a sight,
I must sing and sort you right.
But know it is with heavy heart,
That I split you all apart.
For from within and without,
Dark forces are at play.
And though one side will seek to hurt you,
I implore you! Work as one to save the day.
'Tis not what the Founders had in mind
When the four Houses they did find.
Gryffindor, of courage, heart and soul.
Never found a task at which they wouldn't toil.
Ravenclaws, with their brilliant minds.
Shall spread their knowledge, far and wide.
Hufflepuffs — the true, the loyal, and the just,
Most certainly they are needed, thus.
Last, but certainly not the least,
The cunning and ruthless make the Slytherins proud.
The true snake runs against the crowd.
You must see how much in thee
Is represented by the Houses four.
Because the Founders did realize
That Hogwarts, itself, could not survive
Without Slytherin, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Gryffindor.
And most certain they would say
This statement remains to this very day.
Stand together and stand true.
It is the only thing that's right to do.
Daphne slouched over, breathing out.
"Hat's laying it on a bit thick this year, innit?
Blaise stared at her. "You're actually listening to it?"
She glowered at him. "What? You're not? You don't give two shits that it just told all of us that we need to join together or risk snuffing it?"
Blaise muttered something inaudible under his breath.
The Hall behind them started clapping for one of the new students who had just been sorted into Hufflepuff.
Daphne ignored it and turned towards the much bigger, taller, and oilier Slytherin girl. "So, you're going to a helluva lot of trouble to warn me about Parkinson and Davis, Bulstrode. What gives?"
Millicent's big face reddened, and Daphne was a bit surprised to notice her increasing anger so clearly expressed. "First, Daphne," she said darkly, "call me Millicent. Second," and this time, she blinked for a couple of seconds and turned her eyes downward. "I'm finished with her."
"What? What do you mean 'finished'—"
"I'm done. I'm not going to sit on the sidelines anymore. I'm done with them. And I want in." Her gaze intensified, and suddenly, Daphne felt a little scared of her dorm-mate. She raised her hands up, palms facing the other girl.
"All right. Fine. Simmer down, Bulstrode."
"Bulstrode" gave Daphne a withering look.
"It's Millicent. Mil-li-cent." She leaned back a bit. "You'd better start showing me some respect."
She could only gape at the much-bigger witch as the sound of more clapping came from the Slytherin table,
"Oh-okay," she stammered. "You're Millicent. You're Millicent," She repeated. "But why now?"
She pursed her lips together, as if considering whether or not to say anything. Finally, she looked up at Daphne. "They got to my family."
"They? Who's . . . ? What do you mean, 'they'? What did they do?"
"They — the Death Eaters. They broke into my aunt's house and they tortured her and her family. They killed her."
She looked back at her, shocked. "Millicent, I'm . . . I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."
Millicent shook her head. "She was a Muggle-born. She and my dad both were, which, of course, shocked Gran and Bully."
"Er . . . 'Bully'?"
Millicent looked at Daphne. "Grandpa. We called him 'Bully'."
"Is that short for—?"
"Bulstrode," Millicent cocked her eyebrow. "And you think I'm the thick one?" She shut her eyes tightly. "My mum put some distance between the Muggle-born side of the family and us last year, when things started really going down the drain."
Millicent stopped talking as a particularly enthusiastic round of applause sounded at their table. The girls absent-mindedly clapped along. She blinked for a very long time and shook her head. "I can't help but wonder what they would've done to my father had he still been alive." Opening her eyes back up, Millicent looked squarely at Daphne. "Would they have tortured him too? Would he have been killed by them?"
She found herself at a loss of words. Soundlessly, she moved her lips as if she were a fish gasping for water.
"I used to go to Aunt Ina's house when I was younger," Millicent continued. "She always had these amazing sweets . . . cupcakes, cookies . . ." she drifted off, and Daphne suppressed a snort, trying to keep her expression sympathetic.
(Ina Bulstrode?!)
(Millicent's family certainly has a way with names!)
She noticed Millicent wipe at her nose, and, to her surprise, Theodore Nott patted her on her shoulder.
(Oh, for the love of Circe!)
(When the bloody hell did Nott and Bulstrode hook up?)
(Ew!)
More clapping surrounded them, interrupting the conversation between the two girls. The waves of applause subsided, and vaguely, she heard Snape speak in the background.
"—And be aware that the Ministry has passed several decrees regarding the language you use here." Snape looked around the Great Hall, his arms crossed and his long, pale fingers patting his upper arms as he spoke, in rhythm with his silky drawl. "Here, at Hogwarts, the walls have ears. That goes, too, for the tapestries, the suits of armor, and, most definitely, the classrooms as well. So, beware of everything that passes through your mouths, as it can, and most certainly will, be overheard by anyone."
Snape's beady eyes swept over the hall. "Follow my rules. Obey my word. That is all I ask as your new headmaster. My goal here is simple — unify the student body to one . . . common . . . purpose. To follow in the traditions of our fathers, our grandfathers, and our ancestors. We all must recognize the most fundamental truth," he said, rolling the final "r". "The purer the blood, the better the wizard. Now . . ." he drawled, "repeat."
He raised his hands, as if to conduct an orchestra.
"The purer the blood," the students repeated, "the better the wizard."
Daphne could tell that the recitation at the other three tables was far less enthusiastic than at her own. Crabbe and Goyle, in particular, seemed to embrace the motto with an unusual zeal.
Even for those two orangutans.
Daphne did take notice of Malfoy as he recited the phrase; to her, he still seemed tired. His mouth moved and spoke along with the rest of the student body, but the more Daphne watched him, it seemed like he couldn't muster the same emotional response as his two cronies—
Just then, Amycus Carrow marched toward the Gryffindor table, his jaw jutted out and his eyes furious. Daphne lifted herself off of her seat, to better see what he was about to do—
Carrow bullied up to Seamus Finnigan, balled up his fist, and punched him twice directly on his ear. The impact rang out through the hall, and several of the students gasped and yelled in shock. The other teachers behind Snape yelled in outrage. McGonagall bolted toward Seamus.
The Gryffindor couldn't wade off the sudden attack. He fell over to the ground, clutching at his head and wincing in pain. Carrow kicked him in the guts.
Daphne gasped and flinched as she heard the impact. She felt her heart and stomach trying to bolt out of her body.
"We didn't see your mouth move, little man!" Amycus Carrow leaned over Seamus and sneered at him. "Next time the Headmaster asks you to do something, you'll do it, you disobedient shit!"
"That's enough!"
McGonagall pushed past Carrow, and attended to Seamus.
"Mr. Finnigan," she said, looking at him several times, focusing on his ear, swollen and bloody from the impacts of Carrow's fist. She helped him stand up and muttered something to Seamus. Seamus nodded in response and, still holding his ear, walked out of the hall. McGonagall held her hand out to keep Lavender Brown, Parvati Patil, Neville Longbottom and Ginny Weasley from getting up and shouting in anger on behalf of their friend. McGonagall's rich, rolling brogue interrupted their entreaties—
"Headmaster," the Scottish witch said, turning her ire upon Snape. "It doesn't matter that you are in charge here." She walked towards him, in slow, steady steps. "The faculty will not tolerate violence against the students." She leaned forward to him, hissing in anger. "You'd better get your teachers under control."
Backing up, Minerva McGonagall moved toward the table to take her spot once again, but turned around to Snape just before taking her seat. Snape kept his little, dark eyes on her.
"If the man that I once called a true colleague is anywhere inside that hardened shell, I appeal to his better angels. There is nothing human about attacking the innocent. There is no dignity in hurting our young!" McGonagall lifted her chin up. "You are a disgrace to Dumbledore's legacy! He would be disgusted by your actions!"
And with that, McGonagall took her seat at the table.
Even from the distance, Daphne could see Snape breathing rapidly, his jaw flexing. He wanted nothing more than to cut her argument down, as angry as his dark eyes seemed to be. McGonagall had touched a nerve; that as much was certain.
Instead, she watched as Snape apparently composed himself. He turned slowly toward the students.
He clapped twice, his face stony and impassive.
"Let . . . your feast . . . begin!"
The feast was over. As the prefects and Daphne and Draco Malfoy assisted with gathering the younger lot, Ginny Weasley caught up with Neville Longbottom
"That bastard! That absolute, foul bastard!" Ginny hissed irately.
"Ginny!" Neville put his hand over her mouth. "Not here. If they hear you—"
"Oh, I should let them! They can come after me. I don't care! I'll bloody fight them!"
Neville shushed her. "Seriously, Ginny. Calm down, all right?"
Ginny shut her eyes really tight. "Sorry . . . this is just making my blood boil." She turned to her left, finding Snape talking with the Carrows and the other Death Eaters that had been standing around the room.
Snape had beckoned the sentries over. They gathered in rows, kneeling before the new Headmaster. He spoke to them in what Ginny thought must have been some commanding, authoritative tone. With a nod, the sentries bowed their heads, and stood up, clicking their heels as they spun around and walked out of the Great Hall.
Ginny hissed in disgust. "I hate this!" She turned back toward Neville. "Classes haven't even started yet, and I'm already feeling oppressed."
Neville nodded in agreement. "I agree. But there's a time and place for everything. If you get yourself hexed now, or you say something to get your family in trouble, then you won't be able to fight."
Ginny exhaled in a shaky breath. "Yeah. Yeah, all right, Nev." She looked down at the ground. "I just want to make my family proud." She turned her eyes up to him. "I want to make Harry, Ron and Hermione proud to know me."
Neville gave her a sweet smile.
Ginny grinned back mischievously. "I also want to show 'em I can kick Death Eater arse twelve different ways to Sunday. They'll regret not taking me with them!"
Neville merely smirked and shook his head. "Gin, has anyone ever told you that you could be tougher?"
She let herself laugh as she playfully swatted him in the gut. "C'mon. Let's get upstairs." She beckoned toward the entrance hall with her head. Together, Neville and Ginny ventured out toward the Grand Staircase.
Almost immediately, they saw several other Gryffindor students, grouped just to the right of the first row of steps.
Lavender was still clearly shaken that Seamus had been so physically and publicly abused by the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. "I'm going to the Hospital Ward. And I don't care if it's after curfew!"
"And risk getting caught and beat up yourself?" Parvati whispered, pleading with her best friend. "Lavender, you can't just wander around the castle willy-nilly anymore. Not with these creeps here."
All the Gryffindors shook their heads. Just as Neville was about to open his mouth to speak, McGonagall strode over to them, walking with strong, purposeful steps.
"Good evening, students." Her tone was direct but more pinched and severe than usual. "Before you go and venture out," she said, lowering her head and giving Lavender Brown a piercing stare, "to find out any news, I must have a word with Mister Longbottom and Miss Patil. Please come see me in my office in ten minutes. Miss Brown, come with them as well, and they can escort you to where you need to go. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Ma'am," came Neville, Parvati, and Lavender's simultaneous replies.
"Thank you." The professor strode up the steps, following the massive blob of younger students heading toward their respective houses.
"What do you think that's about?" Parvati asked. "We didn't do anything that would get us in trouble—"
"And why would you two need to escort me?" Lavender asked, her face a mess of confusion and anger about what had just happened with Seamus.
Neville shrugged. "Maybe she just needs to speak to us about something. I don't think any of us did a thing that would warrant point deduction or detention. Much less getting punched or kicked." His eyes traveled back to the Great Hall.
"This isn't fair," Neville said, shaking his head. "If this is any indication of how the rest of the year's gonna be, with the Carrows teaching, we'll need a lot more than just paper or words to fight them." He shivered. "We've got to be tough."
"When you say, 'tough' Nev, what do you mean?" Parvati asked. Lavender had turned her face, still angry and outraged, to look at Neville, waiting to hear what he had to say.
Neville's eyes roamed over to the doors of the Great Hall, though which Snape, the Carrows, and the dark-robed Death Eaters were now streaming out of. Ginny was shocked; she had never seen such poison or fury pouring forth from Neville's stare.
"Nev?" she asked him, wanting to get his attention. He continued looking at the Death Eaters as they exited from the castle, his hands in his pockets.
Just behind her, Michael Corner, Terry Boot, Luna Lovegood and Anthony Goldstein huddled around the Gryffindors.
"So, after that lovely display in there," Michael nudged his head toward the emptying hall, "any of you got ideas about how we're gonna get through the next few months?"
Neville didn't answer, but his brow creased as he withdrew his hand from his pocket.
A gleam of something caught Ginny's eye; Neville held up his D.A. Galleon. She knew that he always carried it with him, but she didn't know exactly why. He may have kept it with him because it reminded him of doing something to stand against the tyranny of Dolores Umbridge and the Ministry in her fourth year. Perhaps it was because he felt like it brought him luck, a talisman of good fortune that aided him in his courageous stand just a few months ago in the Astronomy Tower.
Whatever reason it was, that Galleon meant the world to Neville Longbottom. And now he regarded it with a look of determination and turned to face the group as a whole. The sound of his voice gave Ginny goose bumps; she had never heard him sound so strong or so bold.
"Tell whomever you trust," Neville began, "everyone you remember, all the students who were originally with us two years ago—"
A smile slowly emerged on his face. He met Ginny's eyes, and slowly, she found herself returning his smile. And the more she watched him, the more Neville looked assured, positively resolved in his decision.
"Tell them Saturday, the Room of Requirement at eight o'clock in the evening." Neville's smile grew even more confident. "Tell them to think: 'I need a room for a secret defense club meeting.'
He regarded each and every person surrounding him.
"Tell them Dumbledore's Army is back in business."
