Note: For those of you who have read my Worst Witch trilogy, 'The Devil in the Details', you can start looking for the sly (and not quite so sly) little references to it… now. I couldn't resist!
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Beginning of the End
Harry, Hermione and Ron sat nervously at the Gryffindor table, about halfway along the wooden bench. They were alone in the Great Hall, waiting for the others to arrive from the train and for the teachers to take their places at the top table. Harry had been stewing about this moment all day, and unable to wait in quiet suspense in Gryffindor tower any longer, all three had dressed in their robes and come down to the hall to wait instead, feeling that they might be slightly more prepared for anything that might occur should the worst come to the worst. Harry looked down at the empty plates and platters that surrounded them, thinking of the elves down in the kitchen and wondering what Dobby and Kreacher were getting up to, and whether Dobby had keeled over from the amount of woolly hats that he had collected and insisted upon wearing all at once. There was always the possibility that the weight of the knitwear would have an adverse effect upon his brain, but having seen the sheer joy that the headgear brought his diminutive friend, Harry had never had the heart to warn Dobby against wearing all his clothes at once.
Presently there was a cool rush of air next to them and Nearly Headless Nick sat down at the table, looking melancholy.
"What's up Nick?" asked Ron, startled by the ghost's forlorn appearance.
"What isn't up would be a shorter list," sighed Nick. "There are rumours flying around amongst my fellow spirits that the Ministry plans to have us expelled from the castle. Naturally, Peeves is causing even more havoc than usual in his indignation, and this is causing Mr Filch so much aggravation that I fear his efforts will merely speed up the process." He sighed. "Professor Binns is most upset about the whole business. He says that the stories of the dead simply should not be taught by the living. It defeats the object."
Harry did not say that he thought that History of Magic would be a lot more instructive and interesting if it was taught by a living person; no doubt such a phrase would do nothing to help lift Nick's spirits.
"I guess I must leave you know," said Nick. "We've called an emergency meeting in the anteroom to discuss the dire situation, although it is merely a ruse to ensure that the Friar does not fall asleep again and miss the customary greeting of the first-years."
Harry smiled wanly, remembering the first appearance of the ghosts through the wall when he had first joined the school. He hadn't realised that it was a contrived appearance that was a spectral tradition. Nick floated through the wall and the three were left alone once more, occasionally making small talk but no-one really in the mood for chatting as they awaited the arrival of the others.
"What's it going to be like, this year?" asked Ron eventually, giving voice to the question that they had all been assiduously trying to avoid for the past few days. Harry wished he could give his friend a reply, but he was unable to. He had no idea what was going to happen any more than anyone else did.
"I expect, for the most part, that it will be much the same as any other year except the Ministry changes," said Hermione. "After all, Professor McGonagall is at the helm, and she won't let anything too untoward happen."
Harry only hoped that Hermione's theories would prove correct. On learning that Snape was returning to Hogwarts, as the deputy no less, he had very nearly reneged on his promise to McGonagall and left the school there and then, but his friends had managed to get him down from his state of incoherent anger with a well-timed smack to the back of the head.
"Hello," said a voice from the top table. "You're here early. The food's not going to arrive any quicker, you know."
Harry looked up to see the ancient runes professor settling herself at the top table with her knitting. Ancient really was the right word to use to describe Professor Babbling. She was easily the oldest member of staff, but there was something in her eyes that spoke of a merry youth not yet forgotten. Considering her advanced years, Harry had always got the impression from Hermione that she was still in full possession of all her marbles and was remarkably quick with put downs when the situation called for them. He stared in puzzlement at the garment that she was knitting, so long that it trailed on the floor from her lap. She bent her head over the needles sorting out a knot in the fine gold thread that ran all the way through the piece.
"What is that?" Hermione asked, taking the words out of Harry's mouth.
"I have absolutely no idea," replied the professor cheerfully. "I expect I'll find out when I get to the end of the pattern." She sighed. "I've been knitting constantly for the past month and a half and I'm still nowhere near the middle. This thing goes on for miles, and it's only one sheet of parchment!"
"Morning all," groaned Professor Sinistra as she came into the room with a yawn and sat down next to Professor Babbling. "Oh blimey, they're here already," she started on seeing the trio seated at the Gryffindor table. Immediately her poise straightened and she tried to shake herself awake into a more composed appearance. Harry realised that the feast would in fact be breakfast for the nocturnal professor, and he wondered at her topsy-turvy lifestyle.
Although the two teachers paid them little attention, Harry somehow felt it inappropriate to talk any more now that they had witnesses to their hushed conversation. Ron and Hermione evidently felt the same, and they all sat silently watching as the other teachers filed in to take up the places. Pretty soon the top table was creating far more noise than they could have done if they'd tried, and Harry had just opened his mouth to pass comment on Professor Trelawney's latest attempt at channelling the mysticism of the cosmos into her everyday attire when a shout from the other end of the hall stopped him in his tracks.
"HARRY! RON! HERMIONE!"
It was Neville, running down the hall towards them with a grin as wide as the Cheshire Cat's on his face. Ginny and Luna were following hot on his heels, with Dean and Seamus a little way behind them. Suddenly, Harry felt absolutely no regrets at coming back to Hogwarts for his final year; the surge of happiness he felt on seeing his friends again, all safe and sound, was an incomparable feeling.
"Now now," said Professor Flitwick irritably as he struggled to carry in the sorting hat on its stool, the entire ensemble taller than he was. "This is a school, not a circus. I know you haven't seen each other all summer but there's no need to be quite so dramatic."
"You're alright!" exclaimed Neville, ignoring the tiny charms teacher as the newcomers reached the trio at the end of the table and they threw all propriety out of the window, all hugging each other tightly until Harry was sure he had no breath left in his body and that he had hugged everyone at least twice.
"When you weren't on the train we got worried," explained Luna calmly. "Ginny explained that you were already here but Neville was still worried."
Neville blushed slightly.
"Well, you never know…" he began, but Hermione shook her head.
"It's alright Neville," she said. "I'm honoured by your concern."
"You're definitely here for the whole year then?" said Ginny. "No strange missions hunting down… you-know-whats…" Her voice lowered on the last word, casting a cursory glance around at their companions and at the other people who were arriving in the hall to fill up the spaces. Harry shook his head. They were here to stay for as long as Hogwarts could hold them. Ginny nodded and turned her attention back to Neville, Hermione and Ron, who were exchanging tales of the holidays. Presently, Professor Flitwick called for order and Luna made her way over to her own house as they sat down, awaiting the arrival of the first years.
"They look so small!" whispered Ron. "I swear that we weren't that small."
Harry stifled a laugh behind his hand and Hermione simply rolled her eyes, burying her forehead in her palm. Presently, the new students congregated at the front of the hall and eyed the battered hat with trepidation. The familiar rip near the brim of the hat opened like a gaping mouth, and much to the awe of the new first-years, the Sorting Hat began to sing.
"Times may be looking bleak
But traditions must withstand
And to that end I'm here to lend
A proverbial helping hand.
So welcome one and welcome all!
It's time to split you up.
To find your house where you will live
And try to win the cup.
Perhaps you belong with Godric
Under lion's mighty roar.
Proud, bold and courageous
Danger leaves you wanting more.
Or how about with Salazar?
Beneath serpent's watchful stare.
The cunning and ambitious
Will find like-minded there.
Maybe you'll stay with Helga
In the badger's careful paws.
Loyal, honest and hard-working
Unafraid of all life's chores.
And there's finally Rowena
And the eagle's witty beak.
Here the wise and logical will surely
Find out what they seek.
But though these houses stand alone
They must be at heart united.
For no good can ever come
When the founders are divided.
Red and green and blue and yellow
Come together all once more
To find the greatest secret
Hidden in these hallowed halls.
I may only be a hat
But take heed of what I say.
For this cap's words may well be
The ones to save the day.
As the hat fell silent once more, the hall burst out into spontaneous applause. Harry was not quite sure whether a hat had ever received a standing ovation before, but there was a first time for everything. True, the song that it sung was much the same as in previous years since Voldemort's return – warning the houses to stick together, but there was something else in it this year, a certain sense of imploring urgency. Harry wondered about it as Professor Flitwick began to call the names of the new students ready to be sorted. No-one really paid much attention during the sorting itself unless they had younger siblings coming into the school; although Harry knew that some of the others had fun betting which of the latest batch of wide-eyed would-be wizards would be in which house. The number of times that an unfortunate firstie had ended up in Slytherin because of the shape of his ears was really quite ridiculous. The Sorting Hat's message needed to be taken seriously; it was not the same this year as it normally was. That was a given. The only problem was working out precisely what it meant by the cryptic words. Must be at heart united…
"Hey Harry," said Ron in a hushed whisper, breaking off his train of thought. "Doesn't it look like they've lost someone?" He jerked his thumb towards the staff table, and Harry followed his gaze, but he couldn't see anything out of the ordinary. All the places were filled, who could they have lost?
"Who?" he mouthed back as 'Hawkins, Henry' became a Gryffindor and they had to shift a little further down the table to make room for him.
"Snape!" exclaimed Ron in a tone that was closest he could get to shouting with exasperation without actually raising his voice above the Sorting Hat's shout of 'RAVENCLAW' for 'Jones, Carrie'. "He's not there!"
Harry scanned the table again and had to concede that his friend was right. The disgraced defence teacher was not there, and since there was no place set for him, he was obviously not welcome. Briefly Harry entertained the notion that he had not actually returned, but he knew that this would be far too good to be true. But however inevitable his return was, the point had been made. Snape had been ostracised for his actions, a conscious action on the part of whom Harry did not know, but an action none-the-less. Somehow, this knowledge that the staff were not simply going to stand meekly aside and welcome a traitor back to their midst made him feel slightly better. Not happy as such, but grimly satisfied that Dumbledore was receiving some kind of half-justice.
"Oh come on," said Seamus to no-one in particular as the hat seemed to be taking an awfully long time to consider 'Pesadilla, Anthony'. "He's so clearly a Slytherin, it's written all over his face."
"SLYTHERIN!" yelled the hat finally, and a grumbling crowd of sixth-years handed over fistfuls of coppers to a grinning Seamus.
"Seamus, you should not be so good at guessing," said Dean. "It's ridiculous. But I wish it would hurry up; I'm starving here."
"If you hadn't spent all your money betting with Seamus on the train then you would have been able to buy a pumpkin pasty," observed Ginny sagely.
"Yeah, but gambling is more fun!"
The argument continued for a little while until the final student ('Winter, Thea') became the last Gryffindor of the year. The girl, quite clearly terrified, hovered at the side of the table looking at each of the unfamiliar faces in turn and obviously wishing she could be anywhere else but at Hogwarts in that moment until Hermione squeezed up and patted the space next to her. Although mostly distracted by the arrival of the food at long last, Harry could not help but notice the longing looks she kept sending towards the Ravenclaw table, where an older girl kept smiling and waving cheerfully at her. Harry guessed from their similar appearances that they were sisters, and he wondered at the strange system that could keep seven Weasleys in the same house and yet separate some other families, even down to separating identical twins. It was a mark of the things that made them individual human beings, he supposed. No-one was exactly the same. Having had three helpings of treacle tart and admitting that the food on the run would not be anywhere near as good as that at Hogwarts; Harry was quite content to just sit back in his chair and not pay much attention to Professor McGonagall's start of term speech when a tugging at the robes on his knee jerked him back to the present. He ducked under the table and found himself face to face with Dobby.
"Dobby?" he asked in disbelief. "Shouldn't you be down in the kitchen?"
"Well, yes sir, but Dobby had to talk to Harry Potter!" He motioned Harry to move closer and Harry folded himself further under the table with difficulty. Above him, he could hear Professor McGonagall call for quiet and begin her address.
"What is it?" he asked.
"Dobby has come to warn Harry Potter, sir. Strange things are happening at Hogwarts."
"Dobby, I've heard this before, and you can't try and make me leave Hogwarts this time because McGonagall will kill me. Probably with her bare hands. Overall, I think I'm safer staying here."
"Dobby knows, but all the same, there is great evil here, Harry Potter. Dobby can feel it. There is a great evil here that wasn't here before."
Harry thought of Snape and the anger boiled fresh in his veins. But Snape had always been there, and he had always been morally dubious even if it took Dumbledore's murder to prove his full capacity for evil. There was something new in the castle; that was evil. It could only be a horcrux. But a horcrux in the castle? How could it have got there? With ease, really, if he thought of the diary…
"Is it like last time?" he asked Dobby. The house-elf shook his head.
"No sir. That was intentional. This feels…" He paused, searching for the words. "Accidental. Dobby cannot explain it, it is an elf feeling, but Dobby had to warn his friends, sir." He backed up slightly. "Dobby must go now, there is much washing up to be done, but remember Dobby's warning, Harry Potter sir. Something is going to happen, we elves can feel it, and we will do our part when the time comes."
He vanished with a snap of his fingers and Harry extricated himself from under the table, banging his head as he emerged and interrupting the headmistress's speech. She gave him a sharp look and continued after he muttered an apology, earning him the immediate attention of everyone in the room.
"What was that about?" hissed Ron.
"Dobby," said Harry. "I'll tell you later."
He tried to focus on the end of Professor McGonagall's speech, but he couldn't, not when Dobby's warning was still ringing clear in his ears. He wasn't going to find the horcruxes; at the rate they were going, the horcruxes were going to find him.
Note2: DUN DUN DUN!
Note3: I am extremely proud of my sorting hat song. It took me ages!