Interval 1: Materialization

Darkness. I was surrounded by a rushing wind as the blackness rushed by me. I felt nothing and thought nothing as I hurtled through the abyss, becoming little more than another particle in the vastness of space. My identity, my very being left me for an instant as I turned into nothing…

Then it stopped. I had my memories again, and I had a body I could feel. Of course, the pain returned as well, and I could still feel the impact from where I had slammed into the sink after I passed out in my bathroom, and I groaned as I got up from the ground slowly, looking around cautiously. Where the hell was I?

My ears were ringing, and I pressed a finger to my forehead with a hiss as I felt the rather large bump on my head that had undoubtedly followed my swift fall. After the stars in my eyes receded and I let myself adjust to the light of this new place, I very nearly passed out once more. In front of me, I saw not the grubby and shadowy apartment which I was expecting but instead a bright open space with hundreds of men, women, and children bustling about.

Moreover, what truly startled me was the furiously red steam train hulking in front of me. Unblinking, I read the words along its side without comprehension, going over them once, twice, three times to no avail. When the train sounded its horn, so to speak, I jumped in fright, having been so deep in shock that I had stopped paying attention to all but the massive machine in front of me.

Hogwarts Express, it read. Deciding to ignore that for now, I hurriedly boarded the now-leaving train, resolving not to get stuck in an unfamiliar place when I might just as well venture into somewhere I had always wanted to be. Once I had stepped into the hallway between carriages; however, I knew I was probably in way over my head, because as I traversed car after car, I noticed the oddest sights of magic I had never otherwise expected.

When I finally reached the back, where I suspected that the main characters of the storybooks I had wandered my way into were seated, I realized that I was quite a bit shorter than my normal height. While ordinarily this would be the first thing I noticed, I had quite a bit more on my mind than where my center of mass was located, so naturally when I discovered my lighter gait, I promptly smashed my face into the window of the aforementioned main characters' carriage.

I groaned in pain, wincing at my voice as it cracked. Just what year did I land myself in in this universe? I had already puzzled out that I was truly present in the plane of existence I was now in; it simply could not be a dream, though the pain from the hard, magically-reinforced glass certainly cemented my conviction that I ought to make the best of the situation I had been given.

Unfortunately for me, while I was lost in my own thoughts, I had neglected to slide myself off the door, and the occupants of the room into which I was staring blankly had deigned to open the infernal device, and I fell forward quite suddenly into the not-quite-yet bountiful chest of one Hermione Granger.

Stumbling back, I apologized profusely, the second impact waking me from my ponderings and shocked revelations. "So sorry, Miss, I was shocked from the impact, you see, and I didn't realize the door was opening until it was too late, and I couldn't adjust my balance to compensate until I was already falling, and-" she cut me off with a finger.

"It's alright. Were you looking for a place to sit for the ride?" I nodded, thankful she hadn't taken offense, though upon glancing towards the redhead I knew canonically was the girl's significant other in the distant future, I found he was not nearly as forgiving for my albeit accidental transgression. Ah, I thought grimly. That expression on his face suggests jealousy at my having experienced the wonderful Miss Granger's chest… Oh well.

"Ah, yes, if you don't mind. In my haste to apologize, I have forgotten to introduce myself. Charles MacKay, at your service." Feeling snarky, I bowed theatrically, trying valiantly not to lose my balance and fall to the floor again. Not quite succeeding, I dropped to all fours before pushing myself back upright.

"You sound formal for a Yank," The statement made me smirk slightly as the one I knew to be Hermione glared at the boy who had spoken. "I'm Ron. Ron Weasley. The scary one there's Hermione, and this is Harry." Judging from his morose look and my knowledge of book, movie, and expanded non-canon, I suspected I was 15 or 16 again, though I would know for sure once I rooted through my jacket pockets and jeans. There was sure to be a Hogwarts letter somewhere.

"I've found that I tend more towards the formal side than the informal, Mr. Ron Ron Weasley. Pleased to make your acquaintance, and I should hope you three would be my first friends here, since I seem to have no one – or nothing – else." Hermione, now officially identified, softened her gaze ever so slightly, and I knew she would not hesitate to accept my request.

"We'd be happy to, right Ron? Harry?" Her glare cowed the two boys, though Harry, who still hadn't spoken, likely waiting for my 'inevitable' revelation that he was, in fact, Harry Potter, only nodded mutely. "So what year are you? We're going into fifth." So I was right. My age had likely scaled down to match that of the group of protagonists for whatever reason, though I did rather miss my older appearance.

With a start, I realized the group was still staring at me expectantly. "Lost in thought, sorry. I daresay I will also be a fifth year, Miss Hermione, and before you ask I've decided to take Ancient Runes and Arithmancy as my electives because of my past interests in numerology, calculus, and runic scripts, though my previous education offered neither option for me since they were upper-level courses."

"How fascinating. Where exactly did you attend school? I've only ever heard of the Salem Institute for Witches, but I have to admit I didn't really read up too much on the other American schools." I frowned in deliberation, wondering just how much I should tell her of where I'm from. Deciding to use the 'Unplottable' excuse, I responded.

"I can't tell you the exact location, since not very many people know, but I can tell you it's in the Midwestern US. From what I could gather through the years, it's an Unplottable property, and the only way we can get to and from the place is through… well… I can't tell you that either."

"Brilliant, mate, brilliant, but what do you think about Quidditch? Harry here's the Gryffindor – that's our house – Seeker, and I fancy the Keeper position. Any preference?" I thought for another moment.

"I'm not a big fan of sports in general since I'm a rather reserved individual, but from what I've seen, Quidditch is mostly a spectator sport, so I'm not the most interested guy in the world. It's certainly better than most American sports in my own opinion, though, so there's that. However, if I were to pick a position I would be interested in playing, it would probably be Seeker."

The redhead seemed unsure of how to take my conflicted answer, and his speechlessness made me chuckle as I turned to Harry, deciding to get this out of the way as quickly as possible, with as much tact as I could manage. "Mr. Potter? I just wanted to let you know that I'm in favor of your side of last year's debacle. Even if Voldemort has not returned, though he clearly has, it would be prudent for your Ministry to strengthen security anyway. It's not every day a dead student Portkeys in from who-knows-where, after all."

Harry's head shot up and he stared into my eyes without blinking. Did I mention tact at all? I did? Well, screw that. I raised an eyebrow in his direction and he relaxed slightly, but not overmuch. "What do you know about the Tournament?" he asked me, suspicious even through my politeness.

I held up my fingers, ticking off points as I explained the abridged version of the 'public' knowledge surrounding the events of the Triwizard Tournament. "You were selected as the fourth champion, made to compete against your will, outflew a dragon, played the hero and helped out in the second task, technically won the third task, but you came back with the other Hogwarts champion's body, presumably hit by a Killing Curse, claimed Voldemort was back, Dumbledore was the only one to believe you, barring your friends, and the Ministry is committing libel through the Daily Prophet against you since then. Am I missing anything?"

"S-Sounds about right," he replied, smiling a little. "You say you believe me as well? Without having ever met me?" I grinned genially, opting to take a risk and speak for the entire American people – or at least, the intelligent ones.

"Anyone with half a brain in the States knows that a fourteen-year-old student would have no reason to fire a Killing Curse at his fellow competitor – from his own school, even! It's simply preposterous how cowardly, unwise, and unintelligent the higher-ups in your government are being, and all my friends back in the US agree that your words should have been given even the smallest chance to prove themselves, let alone this whole media outcry against your Headmaster and you yourself."

"And this Boy-Who-Lived nonsense, I've never heard something more overblown," I continued, wanting to get the whole 'fame' thing out of the way before it got too out of control. "Of the occupants of your parents' home that fateful night, only you and Voldemort survived, meaning no one could possibly know what transpired in that home! You were just a baby, and even if you have memories of that time, your toddler mind couldn't possibly have comprehended the magnitude of what had just happened."

Taking a breath, I opened my mouth to speak once more. "The way I see it, and this is just in general, fame has a price. Whether that price is your time, your money, your freedom, or your loved ones, it doesn't matter, but anyone who has ever been famous in any longstanding capacity will tell you that it came at a cost, and more often than not that cost is far larger than the average human would be willing to give. You got shafted, Mr. Potter, because your fame came at the cost of your parents, and pretty much everything that goes along with that kind of family experience. It cost you your godfather, who escaped from your Azkaban two years ago and who has yet to be caught by the authorities."

"Moreover," I finished my rant. "It cost you your anonymity. You came into the Wizarding world clueless of your fame, and your appearance was well documented by those few wizards and witches you likely met over the years. Before you could even step foot into the world proper, you were probably swamped with well-wishers who wanted nothing more than to be blessed by their beloved Boy-Who-Lived. When I first heard about your supposed 'victory' over Voldemort, I scoffed at the enormous lack of common sense instilled into your fellow Wizarding population. Utterly stupid, the lot of them, for thinking only of their peacetime without caring for what their hero lost in return."

A couple of minutes passed, and I panted heavily as I tried to regain my breath. I had gone a little hard on that rant, but I had also been holding it in for quite a long time, ever since I read my first Harry Potter book in 2006, and it was very nearly 2015 when I had been transported back through time and across space.

I broke myself out of my thoughts again, cursing myself for forgetting to take my meds before I was transported across the freaking ocean. The entire carriage was staring at me in open-mouthed shock. Laughing nervously, I waved a hand over Harry's face. "Hello? Anyone home?" I tried, my voice failing to hold its usual poise in my anxious state.

Harry visibly shook, staring at me with obvious respect and relief, and I supposed he was probably glad someone finally understood the struggle he had gone through since his intro to magic. Though he had great friends in Ron and Hermione, the former had always been jealous of his best friend for one thing or another while the latter had put too much stock in her books instead of the people the tomes claimed to know about.

"Thanks, Charles," I heard his soft reply and grinned at him broadly.

"No problem, man. Anytime you want a good logical rant on all the things wrong with the British Wizarding society and government, give me a holler. Hell, if you want my opinion on my own government in the Americas, go right on ahead. I'm a little bit of a satirist when it comes to politics, and I'm certainly a cynic when it comes to America in particular."

Hermione was next to come out of her stupor. "Oh, so you're familiar with the Ministry? How's it done where you're from? There isn't much about it in any of my history textbooks, and I've hardly bothered learning about the Muggle side of things, even in primary school."

Once I had processed the mile-a-minute speech from the girl, I gathered my wits to respond, always interested in a good intellectual discussion. "Well, I would hate to tell you all I know about how my magical government's run, but I can tell you it is kind of similar to the way the Muggle government is structured. That's probably why you haven't read much about it, since I doubt any of the wizards or witches who write history books want to inquire with the Muggles."

Just as Hermione was about to respond to me, she was interrupted by the door to the carriage opening, followed by the entrance of one Draco Malfoy. "Oh? Who's the new peasant, here, Potter? Another mudblood, or just a blood traitor like Weasley over there?" The blonde boy looked down his nose in what he probably thought was an imperious manner, but I only raised an eyebrow, staring at him steadily.

"Here's another example of the rot in your government, Hermione," I said, pointing at the now-irate blonde. "Just as my own country struggled with differences in skin color, this one discriminates based on blood, of all things." Turning back to the snob before me, I punched him square in the nose, breaking it and causing it to bleed before taking one of the brutes' right hooks in my own nose.

"Ow," I grunted as a thick stream of red dripped onto the carriage floor. "I hate physical violence. Anyway, just to make a point, his and my own blood are the same, yes? Yeah, I thought so. Just as red, just as full of life and potential as anyone else's. There certainly aren't any specks of brown in my own, nor are there specks of glitter in his, though he claims to be perfectly superior to me. In my opinion, it isn't a matter of purity of blood, but the talent and application of the user. If a muggleborn student applies themselves to their studies, they'll find themselves at the top of their year. Meanwhile, the 'purebloods' of the group, specifically the blood purists and conservatives, will undoubtedly fall behind, thinking themselves above the other students based on their family background."

"It's pathetic," I snarled, contorting my facial expression into an ugly scowl. "You people resort to name-calling, emotional targeting, abuse – physical, mental, emotional, sexual – bullying, murder and torture, and rape all because you believe the human beings who are clearly better than you at being human to be inferior, unintelligent, fake, and completely useless. This isn't even considering your treatment of Muggles themselves, who populate a hundred or a thousand times more space than you, and who have created such devices of war and security that they would only have to push a button and entire regions of the Earth would become inhospitable for many more years than you will be alive."

The room was staring at me again, and I realized that I had gone on another rant without quite meaning to. "And the very word mudblood, just let me tell you how incomprehensibly dull that is. Have you no creativity? No propriety? You might sneer at those 'lesser beings' as you're so fond of, but have you never once considered that you might have to up the ante as far as insults go? The trademark words thrown about are purely juvenile, and are more of an annoyance than anything truly harmful. Now scat, you sniveling excuse for a snobbish homo sapien!" With that, I waved to the blonde boy's minions, and they dragged the Malfoy out by his shoulders.

Sitting down on the bench once more, I sighed heavily and stretched. "That was exhausting. Hey, do any of you have any extra robes? We don't wear them in America since they all but eliminate your maneuverability in duels and fights, and I didn't have time to grab my wand or my clothes or my wallet before the damnable Portkey activated."

"You can borrow mine from last year, mate," Ron spoke up in a surprising show of generosity. Having known his family's admittedly pitiful financial state, I had not expected him to be able or willing to lend me his wardrobe. "They'll be a bit short on you, and they'll be in Gryffindor colors, but they should do until you can manage to get yourself over to Diagon Alley."

"Thanks, Ron," I smiled at him, grateful for his offer. "Based on what I've heard of the train ride, we ought to be almost there, yeah? So changing would certainly be a good idea." The three teens nodded in harmony, and I raised an eyebrow at the display before shrugging it off to lingering shock at my actions over the past hour or two.

"Hold on just a moment, though, Charles. Episkey!" Hermione called, pointing her wand at my nose, which had by now stopped bleeding. The jolt of pain from the fix caused me to wince, but I made no sound as the magic knit my bone back together. "Evanesco!" Hermione called me out of my thoughts yet again, vanishing the blood on the floor and on my clothes.

After I thanked her, the four of us changed into robes, Ron passing me his own after a few awkward moments of shuffling in his trunk. While they were short on me, it didn't bother me too much, so I let it be, especially considering the fact they were on loan from a friend. I made note to keep them in mint condition in preparation for when I returned them to their rightful owner.

Soon enough, the train slowed to a stop in Hogsmeade station, and I looked about with just as much wonder as any of the younger students. I suspected, rightly so, that the ones whose heads seemed to be on swivels as we exited the machine were the first years, and waved goodbye to Harry, Ron, and Hermione so I could take the boats with them. I had always wondered if the lakeside view of Hogwarts was 'all that' or not.

"Ah! Mr. MacKay, good ter see yeh made it! Name's Rubeus Hagrid, I'm the Gamekeeper here at Hogwarts. I also teach Care. Will I be seein' yeh in class?" Well, canon's description of Hagrid was indubitably accurate, I thought with a mental snort.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hagrid, and please call me Charles. Sadly, magical creatures don't agree with me for whatever reason. Then again, non-magical creatures don't agree with me either. Either way, I won't be taking Care as an elective, though I'm now friends with Harry, Ron, and Hermione if you're familiar with the three?" I worded it as a question, knowing full well the half-giant had befriended the Golden Trio.

"Them three? Yeh couldn' make better friends there, Charles. An' call me Hagrid, none o' tha' Mr. tripe…" The gamekeeper trailed off as he realized we ought not to be chatting when there are eleven-year olds about that need to be put in their boats. "Alrigh', then! Firs' years, over 'ere! No more'n four to a boat!"

Ordinarily, I would be bothered by the fact that I was the only student over the age of puberty in the group, but I ignored it just this once since I could take the opportunity to knock some sense into the kids' heads – specifically the future blood purists. Although I was unsure if there were any first years of the canonical variety, it wouldn't hurt to shake the foundations of their more negative beliefs before people started getting hurt.

"D-Do you two know each other?" one of the kids sharing a boat with me spoke up timidly. We only had three including myself since I was so large, having taken up a good portion of the boat with my legs. I smiled at the girl who uttered the words, causing her to blush suddenly. I sighed internally; I knew for a fact I wasn't that charming, though I knew I had the charisma to accomplish most things if I applied myself.

"Nah. I'm a fifth year transfer from America. My name's Charles, by the way. What're yours?" I asked, pointing my gaze first in the girl's direction and then in the other kid's, a boy by the looks of things. "Come on then, don't be too shy! I'm just as new to this whole castle thing as you two."

"I-I'm Michelle," the girl responded to me, having recovered from her bout of red-face rather quickly, suggesting that I was incorrect in my inference of the reason for the flush in her young cheeks. I was no pedophile… "That's Brandon. We're brother and sister, and even though we might not look it, we're super excited for Hogwarts!"

I grinned. Kids were so innocent and awesome. "What houses do you think you'll be in? Since I'm so old, I'm not sure whether I'll show enough of one trait to be considered for a single house or not."

"I don't think you'll have anything to worry about, Charles! Brandon and I want to be in the same house, but it's alright if we're separate. I want to be a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff though!" Michelle's excitement warmed my heart, and I turned to the boy, who still hadn't really responded much.

"Hey, bud, you alright?" I asked, my voice soft and comforting. It was the same voice I used at the summer camp I was employed with when the elementary campers were feeling down.

"Yeah," he replied, sounding surprised at my question, though he still avoided our eyes. "I miss our mum though. She and pa are going to be so far away…" he trailed off.

"Hey, look me in the eye for a minute, alright?" Once he had, I continued. "It happens to everybody, and you've got nothing to be ashamed of. I was much the same as you when I went away for the first extended period of time, and look at me now! An entire ocean's breadth away from my parents. I'd bet you anything that after the first month of school you'll be mostly fine. Besides, you can always write home using the Owlery. It's no substitute for their voices, but it's a small compensation."

Brandon was unable to give me a response, as it was at this moment that we rounded the bend into view of the castle. After a minute of appreciation, I decided that the view was 'all that' like everyone always said, and I turned back to see the two siblings oohing at the magnificent sight before them.

Before long, we had reached the boathouse, and I waited for the first years with me to dismount before following them in through the massive doors atop the staircase from the Black Lake. Once through, I admired the architecture and structuring of the castle's interior, unashamedly raking my eyes along the archways and stonework. Majestic. The word ran through my mind again and again.

"Mr. MacKay? Please follow me." A stern, clipped voice called to me, and I knew within an instant it belonged to Minerva McGonagall, one of my favorite characters. Striding over to her with my back straight and eyes on hers, I stopped an adequate distance from her. "Nice to see another Scot here at long last, even though you're from the American side of things. Now, do you have any of your things?"

I grimaced. "I'm afraid not, ma'am. I'm rather short on funds as it is, and my wand was broken rather recently. I haven't had time to replace it, and neither do I own any pairs of robes. Also, I've found myself short on textbooks. I would hate to impose upon you more than I already am as a transfer, but would there be anything you could do to assist me?"

The professor and deputy headmistress's gaze softened minutely before she replied. "I will have someone take you to Diagon Alley tomorrow morning. Hogwarts has a fund for situations such as this, and you will be well cared for, though you won't have much more than the basics."

I smiled warmly. "Thank you, ma'am. By the way, I'm afraid I didn't catch your name. Are you the deputy headmistress? Professor McGonagall?" My question got me a single eyebrow raise and a slight nod, and I bowed before rejoining the other newcomers to the castle and leaning against the wall as the older woman projected her long-practiced spiel about the houses.

A few minutes later, the lot of us were organized by name, though I was placed at the back of the room for the sake of being a transfer. Within a few more minutes, we were situated, and the doors to the Great Hall opened silently as we trooped in among the whispers of a couple hundred students.

Altogether, there were about thirty first years excluding myself, and I lamented the fact the Internet wasn't a popular thing yet while simultaneously wondering if I could get my hands on an SNES while I was twenty or so years back in time even though it wouldn't work in the castle.

My thoughts occupied me through most of the Sorting, though I tuned back in to see Michelle and Brandon both placed in Ravenclaw. I waved to the pair of them, smiling when I saw they were both thrilled. I was hoping they wouldn't be set apart from each other. Only a few more names followed the two of them until I was the only one remaining.

Unfortunately, I was standing in the middle of the room, so there wasn't a wall or anything to lean against. In place of that, I postured myself into parade rest, a position familiar to me from a decade and a half of Boy Scouts combined with four years of marching band, for two of which I was section leader. I got some curious looks for my actions, but I refused to let it bother me as Dumbledore stood at the lectern used for announcements.

"Before we all sit down to eat, you may have noticed a strange character waiting for his Sorting. This year, Hogwarts has the pleasure of housing a transfer student from the States. Everyone, please welcome Mr. Charles MacKay!" Despite all the flak Dumbledore got, I already liked the old man, and I smirked widely and snapped to attention, holding my hands behind my back as I crossed the expanse of the hall, humming the Imperial March to myself along the way.

"Thank you, Headmaster. Would either you or the Professor here be willing to raise the stool a little? My legs are a fair bit longer than those of the first years." Dumbledore's eyes twinkled in the way I had seen described by many a writer, and I could tell it was in amusement when one side of his mouth quirked slightly upward. There's no way this guy's senile. I thought to myself with another internal snort.

Professor McGonagall took the time to enlarge the stool enough so sitting wasn't hard on the knees, and I sat with my hands on my knees as the Sorting Hat obscured my vision. Hello, Mr. Hat, I thought the greeting, knowing he (it?) would be able to understand and comprehend my words.

Oh, so you're a dimension traveler, eh? We don't get many of those anymore, the last one was nearly three hundred years ago, though she was a demon from hell. You're human, though, so that's a relief… Hmmm… Well, you've most certainly read up on this universe from your own, so you already know how things will go if you don't change something.

Yeah, I'll be trying to oust Umbridge before Christmas, and I'll make sure Harry doesn't forget to call Sirius through the mirror. It'd suck for him to lose his life again because I was too caught up having fun. I figure I ought to have been brought here for a reason, and I dread to think of what would happen if I failed to live up to that reason by messing about with magic.

Glad to see you've got your head screwed on right, lad. And the sooner you get that toad gone, the better. Be careful, though. You might have yourself some temporary diplomatic immunity since you didn't exist in this timeline until about four hours ago, but that'll go away right quick if you aren't cautious in your actions…Ah, I see. Clever… Well, good luck, Mr. MacKay.

Thanks, Hat. And I'll get right on that, but I should probably focus on the War first, eh?

Yes, yes, you're right. Anyway, you've been wonderful conversation, but I should Sort you. Where do you want? Any of the Houses will work except Hufflepuff, you'll be able to shake the World no matter where you go.

I didn't hesitate to reply. Gryffindor, most likely. If I were in Slytherin, the Trio would be less amenable to me, and getting into contact with them would be much too difficult in the time I have here in this world.

Sounds good enough to me, Mr. MacKay. I guess I'll just put you in "GRYFFINDOR!" the last word was spoken aloud, and the Hat was lifted off of me in short time. Standing, I bowed to the staff table in a unanimous greeting, making sure to meet all their eyes except Umbridge's. Once finished, I rose and bowed to the cheering crowd – well, Gryffindor was cheering anyways. I caught the gaze of the Trio, grinning and saluting them as I made my way down to the table to sit down next to Hermione.

"What's up, guys?" I said, having a feeling I'd be interrupted before long with the introduction of the torturous Defense professor for the year. Sure enough, as Dumbledore was telling us to dig in, Dumbledore introduced the changes in staffing for the year. Harry's eyes widened in recognition of the horrid woman when her name was mentioned, and I knew he was remembering his trial from earlier in the summer.

"Ah, that would be the foul hag known as Dolores Umbridge. Even I, having grown up in the States, know about her. She's a straight-up blood purist with a high position in your Ministry, and she's also firmly against anyone less than human. To top it all off, she has a massive superiority complex, thinking she's above the law," I whispered to my friends as the toad made to interject on the Headmaster's speech.

"Hem, hem," the toad cleared her throat in a manner that suggested she was doing so for nothing of it. "Thank you, Headmaster," she simpered, "for those kind words of welcome." I rolled my eyes at the sickly-sweet tone of her voice and sneered at her form up at the staff table, much like a certain Potions Professor was.

"Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" she smiled, and I couldn't help but wonder if some of the children would be having nightmares for weeks to come at the horrible sight. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!" I met Harry's eyes across the table, trying to communicate my distaste for the official as well I could. Unsurprisingly, he understood me perfectly, and we turned back to her as she continued speaking.

"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!" I sighed aloud, putting my face in my hands wearily. How on earth was I going to hold off on getting rid of the loathsome excuse for a human being until Christmas? I was broken out of my hopeless musings by that ridiculous throat clearing again.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be of vital importance. The rare gifts with which you were born may come to nothing if not nurtured and honed by careful instruction. The ancient skills unique to the wizarding community must be passed down the generations lest we lose them forever. The treasure trove of magical knowledge amassed by our ancestors must be guarded, replenished and polished by those who have been called to the noble profession of teaching."

Professor Umbridge paused here and made a little bow to her fellow staff members, none of whom bowed back to her. Professor McGonagall's dark eyebrows had contracted so that she looked positively hawklike, and I distinctly saw her exchange a significant glance with Professor Sprout as Umbridge gave another little "hem, hem" and went on with her speech.

"Every headmaster and headmistress of Hogwarts has brought something new to the weighty task of governing this historic school, and that is as it should be, for without progress there will be stagnation and decay. There again, progress for progress's sake must be discouraged, for our tried and tested traditions often require no tinkering. A balance, then, between old and new, between permanence and change, between tradition and innovation…"

It was at this point that I began to tune her out, meeting Harry's eyes again and rolling my own. He snickered slightly, just as inattentive as myself, and I knew that we would be the best of friends. He had quite the hidden snarky side to him, and I suppose that only grew more morbid after Cedric's death in the Tournament.

Before long, we had to tune back in for the remainder of the long-winded speech. "… Because some changes will be for the better, while others will come, in the fullness of time, to be recognized as errors of judgment. Meanwhile, some old habits will be retained, and rightly so, whereas others, outmoded and outworn, must be abandoned. Let us move forward, then, into a new era of openness, effectiveness and accountability, intent on preserving what ought to be preserved, perfecting what needs to be perfected, and pruning wherever we find practices that ought to be prohibited."

She sat down. Dumbledore clapped. The staff followed his lead, though Harry noticed that several of them brought their hands together only once or twice before stopping. A few students joined in, but most had been taken unawares by the end of the speech, not having listened to more than a few words of it, and before they could start applauding properly, Dumbledore had stood up again.

"Thank you very much, Professor Umbridge, that was most illuminating," he said, bowing to her. "Now, as I was saying, Quidditch tryouts will be held…"

"Yes, it certainly was illuminating," said Hermione in a low voice. I snorted softly and bumped her shoulder in agreement, ignoring her slightly confused look at my gesture.

"You're not telling me you enjoyed it?" Ron said quietly, turning a glazed face towards Hermione. "That was about the dullest speech I've ever heard, and I grew up with Percy."

"I said illuminating, not enjoyable," said Hermione. "It explained a lot."

"Did it?" said Harry in surprise. "Sounded like a load of waffle to me."

"Even waffles have some importance in them somewhere, Harry," I spoke grimly. "I'm getting the distinct feeling that she won't actually be teaching any magic this year. In fact, I rather suspect that she doesn't know how to cast a spell herself…" Hermione bumped me this time, trying out the movement. I smiled at her and she responded similarly, shooting me a fleeting grin.

There was a great clattering and banging all around them; Dumbledore had obviously just dismissed the school, because everyone was standing up ready to leave the Hall. Hermione jumped up, looking flustered.

"Ron, we're supposed to show the first-years where to go!"

"Oh yeah," said Ron, who had obviously forgotten. "Hey - hey, you lot! Midgets!"

"Ron!"

"Well, they are, they're titchy…" "I know, but you can't call them midgets! - First-years!" Hermione called commandingly along the table. "This way, please!"

A group of new students walked shyly up the gap between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables, all of them trying hard not to lead the group. They did indeed seem very small. Harry grinned conciliatorily at them. A blond boy next to Euan Abercrombie looked petrified; he nudged Euan and whispered something in his ear. Euan Abercrombie looked equally frightened and stole a horrified look at Harry, who felt the grin slide off his face like Stinksap.

"See you later," he said to Ron and Hermione, and he tried to leave the Great Hall alone.

"Wait, Harry!" I called, grabbing his arm. "Don't let it bother you. Besides, it'll be easier to stop the whispers if I'm with you. Now let's go, and we can talk more along the way." He attempted to smile at me in thanks, but it came out more like a grimace.

"Yeah, sure," he replied, and we walked out of the Great Hall at a reasonable clip. I stayed slightly behind Harry, watching where he stepped to make sure I didn't get caught on any traps along the Grand Staircase. "You understand what I'm dealing with, don't you?" he said after a while, and I put a hand on his shoulder when we came to a landing and had to wait for a staircase to move over to us.

"I won't pretend to have an idea of what it feels like, man," I said after some thought. "And I don't think it'll get any better until the Ministry admits you're right, but even then it'll get worse still since you'll be bombarded with fame again. That's not what you meant, though."

"No," he sighed. "It's not."

"Cedric then?" I questioned, and he nodded. I ran a hand along my nearly bare scalp. "Death," I started, "is a complicated thing. Did Cedric deserve to be killed? Most certainly not. Was it your fault? Absolutely not! No one could have predicted that the Cup was a Portkey, and if anyone is to blame it's Crouch Jr." I fell silent as I realized Crouch's presence wasn't public knowledge and hoped Harry wouldn't process that.

"As far as the feelings you're having go, you probably have a condition called Survivor's Guilt. It's pretty common among people that outlived their companions in a traumatic experience, and I've had the same feelings too many times to count. I've had classmates die, family, friends, last winter alone there were nearly twenty deaths of people I knew and laughed with, cried with, et cetera."

"You know what, though, Harry? I got over their deaths and the guilt I felt for not saying goodbye or saving them by honoring their existences by pushing forward and trying every day to improve the experiences others can have, so none of them have to go through it. My advice to you: push to get the Ministry to accept Voldemort's return, and then force them to acknowledge Cedric's bravery in the face of certain death, even if it means using your significant clout in the government. Got it?"

Another five to ten minutes passed before we reached the Fat Lady as Harry mulled over my words. When we reached the portrait, he swore and I remembered that he didn't know the password. Lucky for us, Neville Longbottom pulled through like he did in the book, approaching us with a grin on his face.

"Harry, I know it!" the newcomer panted, and then he turned to me. "Neville Longbottom. You're Charles, right?" I nodded, shaking the boy's hand with a small smile. "Nice to meet you. Oh, and I'll actually be able to remember this one! Mimbulus mimbletonia!" he called to the portrait, and she swept aside without a word, revealing the Gryffindor common room in all its glory.

"Alright, then, Harry, I should go to bed. It's early, yeah, but apparently I'm going to your shopping center to get myself some supplies for the school year. I'll see you tomorrow afternoon, eh?" he nodded, presumably still thinking of what I had told him. After taking one last look at him, I climbed the stairs to the boys' side of the dormitory and curled up in the only bed with no attached trunk.

Before I fell asleep, exhausted from the day's events, I had one truly scary thought pass through my mind. What if I die? Before this moment, I wasn't fearful for my death, but now… I doubted I would actually end up before God in heaven. I had a feeling I would be shunted a universe to the left, or to a year into the future. Needless to say, it wasn't the best thing to fall asleep to.