Disclaimer: Double, double, toil, and JK Rowling.
A/N: I took the Pottermore Patronus quiz and guess what my Patronus was: a wildcat. I was kind of hoping for a squirrel, but I do appreciate the coincidence.
In case you haven't been following the previous stories, there are a few differences from real-world history in the Animagus-Verse.
I regret to inform you that I am going to have to scale back updates on Animagus at War to once per month for the foreseeable future. Real life has been interfering again, and I need to do this to free up time for my real job, to work on my original writing, and to focus more on finishing the, frankly, better-developed Lady Archimedes. I do still intend to finish Animagus at War, but it may take a while to do so, and I promise to inform you, my readers, in the unfortunate event if I have to put it on hiatus entirely. From now on, Animagus at War will update on the first day of the month. I do hope to go back to a faster schedule eventually, but I don't know how long that may be.
Chapter 5
"You were captured by an eleven-year-old boy in cat form, Pettigrew. You're even more pathetic than I thought."
"Harry," Sirius said, "I'd like to introduce you to Kirley Duke, the lead guitarist of the Weird Sisters."
"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Duke," Harry said. He patronisingly shook the musician's hand. He still didn't see much point in Sirius arranging this meeting despite it being cool to meet the band in their studio.
"Good to meet you, too, Lord Potter, but it's just Kirley. Mr. Duke is my father."
Harry glanced at Sirius. He could see why the two men got along. Of course, Sirius probably would have been a rock star himself if he had any natural musical talent. Kirley Duke was a tall, but slight man, though he looked less like a vampire without his makeup on. The best thing, Harry supposed, was that he wasn't taken in by fame, being famous enough himself.
"Well, I enjoyed your performance at the Yule Ball last year," Harry said.
"Glad to hear it, man. Glad to hear it," Kirley replied. "Say, what was that crazy dance you were doing when we were coming on that nobody else could do? I know it was muggle, but it's been too long since I was into muggle music."
"Oh, that was a five-step waltz."
"A five—a five step waltz?" Kirley said incredulously. "Muggles do weird dance numbers like that?"
"Not really. They're not that common. But that was a famous one by Tchaikovsky—the Pathétique Symphony, second movement."
"Cool, I'll have to go buy the record."
Harry and Hermione exchanged a confused look. "When did you finish Hogwarts again?" Harry said. "We use CDs now."
Sirius cleared his throat: "No electricity in Hogsmeade."
"Oh, right…When I get done with school, I'm definitely living in a muggle town."
"So anyway," Sirius got them back on track. "Kirley, we had something important to talk to you about. We need you to keep it a secret, and I mean top-level Ministry stuff. But it might affect the band directly, so we need to bring you in on it.
Kirley paled. "Whoa, we just play music, Lord Black," he said, backing off a step. "We don't go in for this cloak and wand stuff."
"Yes, but if Sirius is right—and I'm not convinced he is, mind you—this might be beyond either of us," Harry said. "See, the day after…the day after Voldemort returned, I witnessed a prophecy."
"A prophecy?"
"Yes—a prophecy that might name you."
"Us? How's that?"
"You'll keep it a secret?" Sirius asked.
Kirley nodded vigorously: "I'm not letting this hit the press, Lord Black."
Sirius nodded to Harry, who took a deep breath and recited Cho's prophecy: "The Weird Sisters will be reunited before the summer dies. The Dark Lord regathers his forces, more terrible than ever before. The one who thrice defied him stands before a high mountain to oppose him. But before the leaves begin to turn, the weird sisters will gather together once more in his aid, and he will call new allies to his side, for Mars will reign over Europe. The Weird Sisters will unite before summer dies."
The musician was even paler by the time Harry finished. "Dude," he said, "unless you think You-Know-Who's gonna be beat with the power of rock and roll…which would be awesome, but…"
"We're trying to figure out what it means," Harry said. "The only Weird Sisters we know are you guys and the Shakespeare characters."
"Well I don't think it's us, Lord Potter. And I got the name from Shakespeare anyway."
"Shakespeare didn't write 'weird' though," Hermione said. "He wrote 'weyward'—with an 'e', and he also spelt it 'weyard'. We looked into it, and neither word appears anywhere else in literature. Macbeth is the Oxford English Dictionary's only source for them. Scholars interpret it as 'weird' rather than 'wayward', but they didn't support either until more than a century after his death."
"Are you sure the prophecy said the Weird Sisters, then? In the magical version of the story, it's—"
"The Wyrd Sisters. We know," Hermione said. "It's possible, but we don't really think so."
"Have you done anything this summer that would fit reuniting or giving aid to Harry?" asked Sirius.
Kirley shook his head: "No, man. We've had plenty of gigs this summer, and we've been doing our own thing, not helping you or the Ministry or anyone—no offence. We're just a band. I don't know what we could do anyway."
"We're just trying to explore the possibilities, Kirley," Sirius said. "The prophecy sounds like it ought to be you, but if nothing you're doing fits it, we'll have to think of something else."
"Ah. Well, good luck with that. Now, it was good meeting you, but I have a tour to book…in France…until October."
"Right…scaredy cat," Sirius muttered under his breath as they left.
"Oi!" Harry protested.
With the prophecy unsolved, the Grangers were met with yet another mystery when Professor Dumbledore invited them to a special meeting at Hogwarts, not in his office, but on the shores of the Black Lake. Sirius escorted the family up from Hogsmeade, and they reached the Lake to find an unusual collection of people. Dumbledore was there, of course, but with Fawkes riding on his shoulder. And rather than Professor McGonagall or any of the other teachers, Professor Trelawney and Mr. Ollivander were with him. Minister Fudge and Amelia Bones were there, too, but also, most unusually, so were the Chang Family.
"Hi, Cho. What are you doing here?" Harry asked.
Cho looked up from beside her parents. She didn't look well. She was hunched over slightly, she had lost weight, and she had dark circles around her eyes. "Oh, hi, Harry," she said sadly. "Professor Dumbledore asked us to come."
"This is a little unusual, Albus," Fudge said. "Why did you bring these guests to such a high-level meeting?"
"One of the arriving dignitaries specifically requested their presence, Cornelius," Dumbledore answered. "For those of you who don't know, the ICW has sent a police mission to Britain with orders to apprehend the Dark Lady La Pantera for violations of international law. The leaders of the operation are arriving here this morning. I wanted you to meet them here before introducing them to the Wizengamot tomorrow."
Harry and Cho looked at one another. Both could guess roughly why each of them was invited to this meeting, but it still seemed surprising.
"Here at the lake?" Fudge asked.
"This location has the easiest access from the south," Dumbledore said.
"What has that got to do with anything?"
"If you'll look across the Lake, Minister, I think you will see."
They all looked to the south, and they saw a speck on the other side of the Lake, blurred with motion as it moved towards them on the water at an impossible speed. Seconds later, Edward Grayson was standing before them, singing the final strains of a Gaelic folk song.
"G'day, mates," he said.
"Ambassador Grayson," Fudge said in surprise, "I didn't know you were joining the team."
"It's only natural, Minister Fudge. I'm the one who knows the situation on the ground the best—besides Albus, of course. I volunteered for the mission. I've also arranged with Minister Hitchcock to offer sanctuary like we did in the last war, but we can discuss that at the meeting. Are any of the others here yet?" he asked.
"I am, Edward," a voice sounded.
Everyone looked around, and then, a figure in a long, black cloak stepped out from behind a tree that should have been far to small to hide him. He lowered his hood, revealing a weathered old man with an even more weathered staff in his hand.
Mr. Ollivander's eyes grew wide when he saw the man. "Master Shomihkasi," he whispered in awe.
"Indeed, Garrick. It has been a long time."
"I should say so," Ollivander said, stepping forward to shake his hand. "We wandmakers so rarely have time to travel outside our homelands. What about the children in America?"
"Others are ready to take my place, Garrick. Albus. Amelia," he nodded to the others, who all looked quite surprised at another wandmaker being invited to the meeting.
Fudge quirked an eyebrow at Amelia: "You've met?"
"Only briefly," she said.
"Yes, introductions," Dumbledore said. "For those of you who don't know, Master Shomihkasi, or Old Coyote, is the premier wandmaker in the Americas…and Grand Sorcerer of the American Expeditionary Force in Grindelwald's War."
Even Amelia looked at Old Coyote in a new light. She hadn't looked into him that closely, but she hadn't expected him to be that powerful. Grand Sorcerer was a title reserved for wizards on Dumbledore's level, or near it.
Fudge, meanwhile, looked at the man's cloak and said, "How did you do that, Master Coyote?"
The older man waved the edge of his cloak, which seemed to ripple and bend his arm impossibly as it moved. "It's a Hidebehind Hide," he said. "We use them much like a Demiguise Cloak in America. It bends space, allowing the user to hide behind almost any object." He looked around and surveyed the growing crowd. "Are we all here, Albus?"
"Not quite, Coyote," Dumbledore said. "Our final representative should be arriving in…" He checked his watch. "Forty-five seconds. I'm told she is not well enough to travel by any conventional method."
They waited and watched, wondering how the final delegates were coming. Portkeys, the usual method of international travel, were very rough, and few others could manage that distance. They all jumped when a pillar of fire burst into existence right in the midst of them. When it receded, it was replaced by two figures, one a very old Chinese woman—a good deal older than Dumbledore, by the look of her—and a tall, young man who was supporting her with his arm. But the most notable feature about the pair was the beautiful golden phoenix sitting on the woman's shoulder—probably the only fast form of magical travel that could be called comfortable.
Cho stood stock-still when she saw her. "Grandmother Fan," she whispered.
"Who?" said Harry.
"That's Fan Tong," she said. "The great Chinese Seer…she's my great-great-grandmother."
The phoenix trilled softly as the old woman caught her breath. It turned and stared at Fawkes. It was an uncanny sight: they seemed almost mirror images. Fawkes was red with gold highlights. Fan Tong's phoenix was gold with red highlights. And from the way they cawed at each other, they seemed to be acquainted.
"Thank you, Xihe," Fan Tong said to the phoenix. "Jie, please see to her." The young man held up his arm, and the phoenix hopped onto it. He stood by Dumbledore, where the birds continued to stare at each other.
"Cho," Mr. Chang said sharply and nodded towards her. The family walked forward and bowed low to the old woman. "It is an honour to meet you, Grandmother," he said.
"Of course, Qiang," she said, bowing slightly in return before turning to Cho. "And this is the new Seer?" she asked.
Cho trembled nervously and stepped forward. "Y-yes…I am, Grandmother."
"Come to me, Qiu Qiu. Let me see you." Fan Tong took Cho's face in her hands and looked into her eyes. "Yes, I see the Gift in you—newly awakened, young and marked by pain, but with a strength you've yet to discover in yourself…It is good to see another of my family has the Gift, Qiu Qiu. I have much to teach you…And you told me you had another Seer, Dumbledore," she raised her voice, causing Cho to wince.
But the question was unnecessary, for Professor Trelawney started forward with an expression on her face that Harry usually associated with overzealous fangirls. "Madam Fan," she said, shaking her hand, "such an honour it is."
"Ah, yes. Sybill Trelawney," Fan said. "I'm sorry our paths have never crossed before. Your great-great-grandmother taught me much in my youth."
Trelawney gave her a shaky smile. "Grandpa told me quite a lot about you, Madam Fan." The old woman nodded patronisingly.
"Harry, I think you might be right," Hermione whispered as they watched.
"About what?"
"About the prophecy."
"Huh?"
"Shakespeare's witchers were Seers, remember? Everything they predicted came true. And look." She pointed to the three gathered witches. "Three Seers in one place. That can't be common, even in Divination class."
"But it's Trelawney," he said.
Indeed, Madam Fan seemed to agree. She frowned as she examined the professor closely as she had Cho. "Who taught you the ways of the Seer, Xiao Ming?" she asked.
"I…Professor Amittai, Madam. The old Divination Professor. He said I had a great gift of the Sight—"
"He was a quack!" Madam Fan snapped. And Trelawney jumped about a foot in the air. "Oh, you do have the Sight, child, but your aura is so bent out of shape it's a miracle you can use it. It's no wonder there have been so few prophecies in Britain lately with that sort of instruction."
"M-M-Madam Fan," Trelawney said, looking hurt, "Professor Amittai was a wonderful teacher—"
"Bah! Did he have the sight? I doubt it. What of your career? Have you ever composed an oracle? Learnt astral projection. Attempted any form of scrying beyond basic crystal gazing? Xu Fu, girl, have you ever so much as named a child?"
"I…I…" Trelawney said with tears in her eyes. Everyone knew well she hadn't.
"Enough. You will learn from me with my great-great-granddaughter, Xiao Ming. I think I will be able to repair most of the damage. Find someone else to divine vague meanings from tea leaves and palm lines."
Harry turned to see Hermione, who was staring at the Seers in amazement. He guessed she wasn't sure whether to feel vindicated that Trelawney didn't know what she was talking about (she grew tired her roommates singing the woman's praises) or shocked that there was something to divination after all.
Dumbledore cleared his throat, ending the spectacle. "Well, now that we are all here, we should begin. The reason I called you here beyond mere introductions is to inform you of some important developments in the war. All of you know about Miss Chang's recent prophecy, but what you do not know is that I was recently informed of an oracle—a prediction composed from the content of prophecies and visions—written by Madam Fan, which portends dire consequences for the war."
"Actually, Albus," Grayson interrupted, "before we get started, I have a letter to give you as well."
He handed over an envelope. Dumbledore opened it and read it over, his face turning solemn.
"What is it, Albus?" Fudge asked.
"I'm being asked to step down as Supreme Mugwump to avoid a conflict of interest."
All of the Britons in the crowd gasped. "Step down?" Amelia said, "but Albus, if they make you leave the ICW—"
"It will change very little, Amelia," he assured her. "The ICW is already offering as much help as we can reasonably expect of them. I will not be as high in the information chain, but with Madam Fan here with us, I am less concerned about missing critical intelligence."
That mostly assuaged their fears, although Madam Fan didn't instill the greatest confidence either to look at her. By now, she had turned her attention to Harry. "So this is the Chosen One," she said as she approached him.
Harry blushed uncomfortably. "I guess I'm well known in China, too, ma'am?" he said.
"True, but that is not what I meant," she replied. "You have the aura of destiny around you, Mao Mao. Any Seer can See that. You will—" She stopped an went rigid, and her voice came out again with a harsh, rasping sound. "The maimed lord and lady will return to their court!" she said, before she gasped and went into a coughing fit. Her young aide, Jie, rushed to help her.
"The maimed lord and lady will return to their court," a voice sounded from the elaborate necklace she was wearing. Most of the crowd stared in shock at having apparently heard a prophecy so casually.
"Madam Fan, what is that?" Trelawney asked.
"It's a Seer's Talisman. It repeats any prophecies I make so I can actually remember them."
Even Dumbledore looked shocked by that.
The Wizengamot meeting was a bustle of activity the next morning. It was the first full meeting since the Azkaban breakout, and security was very tight. The lowest level of the Ministry was crowded by Wizengamot members and families, Aurors, and ordinary citizens who had come to hear what their government was doing to keep them safe. In short, it was a powder keg.
But it was one that the Grangers were prepared for. They'd been introduced to the information they needed to know in the smaller meeting yesterday: Fan Tong's alarming oracle had predicted a larger war in Europe—one in which not just two, but four Dark Mages would join forces against Britain, which was why the ICW had assembled four Grand Sorcerers in turn to oppose them when one ought to have done fine. The oracle would not be publicly revealed, but people would guess that something big was happening.
Hermione was now pretty well convinced of Harry's interpretation of the Weird Sisters in Cho's prophecy as the three Seers—especially if they accepted that it was an emendation of the Wyrd Sisters. But ironically, Harry now wasn't so sure, and Sirius (who admitted still mostly wanted to believe it was about the band) agreed with his reasoning.
"Think about it," he said. "We've got three Seers, yes, but look at them: one so young that she doesn't know what she's doing, one so old that her 'gift' is slowly killing her, and one so weak that she can't predict her way out of a paper bag but once a decade—even Madam Fan said so."
"She said she would teach them both, though," Dan said. "Who knows what could happen in a year? But more importantly, is anyone else concerned about the ages of our Grand Sorcerers? Voldemort and La Pantera are both younger than they are."
"That doesn't make them less powerful," Sirius pointed out.
"But it does mean they're in poorer health. It seems like old soldiers stick around a really long time in the magical world, and I don't know if that's a good thing."
"That's not so different from the muggle world, Dad," Hermione pointed out. "It's just that powerful wizards can stay on the front lines all that time."
"I suppose so, but still, I have to think Dumbledore can't be as quick as he used to be."
"You're right, Dan," Sirius said. "It is a concern, but we have the Ministry on our side, so that should count for something."
"True."
The new arrivals from yesterday were milling around the Atrium and the Level Ten foyer—some of them, at least. They saw Old Coyote speaking to several wizards, including one familiar red-haired man.
"Bill! Hey!" Harry greeted Ron's older brother.
"Hey. Alright, Harry?" he said.
"Yeah. What are you doing here?"
"I arranged for a transfer back to England. I wanted to be closer to home." He leaned close and whispered. "And I offered to help Dumbledore get rid of You-Know-Who's you-know-whats."
Harry nodded. "Do you have any idea where the missing one is?" he asked.
"Not yet, but I'm looking into our options. I was hoping Master Coyote had some ideas."
"Not as such, I fear," Coyote said. "But Madam Fan had some interesting ideas about scrying that we may be able to adapt to search for it."
"We'll keep you posted," Bill said.
Naturally, several students in Harry's and Hermione's year were at the Wizengamot too with their families. The two of them—especially Hermione—had also been looking around for Neville, but they couldn't seem to find him. It was only as he was entering the Wizengamot Chamber alongside several mysterious cloaked figures that they spotted him.
"Neville! There you are," Hermione said.
"Oh, hi, Hermione, Harry," he said. He kissed Hermione briefly, but he seemed preoccupied.
"We've been worried about you, Neville," Hermione said. "We haven't seen you since Harry's birthday. How have you been?"
"It's been…er, it's complicated," he replied awkwardly. "I mean, it was awful hearing about the Azkaban breakout, but then…well, come sit with us. I'll explain during the meeting."
The Grangers entered the Wizengamot Chamber in confusion, wondering what he was talking about. Everyone was seated in their places, and Dumbledore opened the session. "I hereby call the August session of the Three-Hundred and Ninety-Third Wizengamot to order," he said. "Please do remain civil, for we have much to discuss. Before we begin, I would like to extend a special welcome to one of our members and his wife. Fourteen years ago, the then-Heir of one of the Lords of the Wizengamot and his family were savagely attacked in his own home. The couple were incapacitated, seeming permanently, and the Heir has lived as a Lord-in-Exile for many years, now. However, thanks to recent advances at St. Mungo's, the couple in question have finally made a partial recovery and as of this week have been officially discharged from the hospital. They have joined us today for the first time. Please join me in welcoming Lord Frank and Lady Alice Longbottom."
There were loud gasps as two of the cloaked figures by Neville stood up and took off their cloaks, revealing themselves as Neville's parents. They waved to the Hall shakily, Frank supported by his enchanted leg braces, as several in the crowd began to cheer. The cheers soon built up to a standing ovation. Even Lucius Malfoy and his cronies were applauding politely. The Grangers knew the pair had been beloved Aurors in the last war, so their return must have been a powerfully moving event, not to mention an act of defiance in response to the Azkaban breakout. They were definitely getting the meeting started on the right foot.
"You brought them home from the hospital?" Harry asked Neville. Even he hadn't known about that.
"Yeah, we thought they'd be safer at home. We've got two elves to take care of them now. But we kept it all secret, of course."
At Dumbledore's prompting, Frank leaned against the railing and said a few words. This would be difficult for him. Even with the drugs they were taking—muggle drugs intended to treat Alzheimer's and Parkinson's—both of the Longbottoms still had damage to their speech centres and found spoken language difficult. "Thank you, please," Frank said haltingly. "It is good to be forward—no—good to be back—yes…We are grating—no, grateful—to Lord Potterer and his pots—no, people—no, relatives…I think…They helped us bet gets—no, get better—no—yes…Harry and the Potters. They helped us…"
"Thank you, Lord Longbotton," Dumbledore said. He seemed to be having a bad day. "To clarify, it was Lord Potter and his family who suggested that muggle medicine might be able to provide some help to Lord and Lady Longbottom where magical treatments had failed. To the surprise of many, they were correct. Lord Longbottom, do you wish to take up your seat at this time?"
"No, War Chief—no, Chief Waterer—no, Warlord—"
"N-no, s-sir," Alice said beside him. Her speech was more coherent, but she stuttered badly. Between the two, they could just carry on a conversation.
"YES!" Frank said in confirmation. "My mother will reign as actor—no, act as regent—I—yes. She will."
"Very well," Dumbledore said. "We are all glad for your return. Next, I would also like to welcome the foreign dignitaries who have been sent from the ICW with the assignment of apprehending the Dark Lady La Pantera for her crimes committed in Britain. Please welcome Ambassador Edward Grayson from Australia, Master Shomihkasi Coyote from MACUSA, and Madam Fan Tong from China."
The three dignitaries were briefly recognised. The Grangers watched the Malfoy Family and their allies closely for any sign of reaction. It was hard to tell, but they wouldn't be thrilled with the development. They would know that things would get much harder with those three around.
Finally, Dumbledore got the meeting proper underway: "The first order of business is our reaction to the unfortunate breakout from Azkaban several weeks ago…"
The meeting ran long. First, there was Amelia Bones's report on the breakout and the actions that were being taken to respond. Sirius presented the plans he had drawn up in for the new prison in the Shetland Islands. Fudge was cautiously behind it, but they needed funding. There was vigorous debate over whether to abandon Azkaban and seal it up. It had, after all, been established for three hundred years. But Madam Bones insisted that they couldn't keep prisoners contained on Azkaban Island, nor could they keep the guards safe, so the motion passed easily.
The next motion was for the adoption of Sirius's system of lethal security features in the new prison. That was much more controversial despite the fact that the dementors had basically served the same purpose previously, but Bones testified that it would make the prison more secure with less manpower and expense, and Harry himself stood up and gave a summary of the use of electric fences in maximum-security muggle prisons for comparison.
The motion passed—not by as much, but the fear in the air was enough to do it. Fear was a dangerous weapon in politics. After Fenrir Greyback attacked Hogwarts, fear had led the Wizengamot to enact harsher laws towards werewolves than the Grangers had wanted, though they narrowly avoided the truly disastrous ones. However, in this case, it came down in their favour. The people were afraid enough of the escaped Death Eaters and werewolves that they passed Sirius's motion by a narrow margin.
"I move to recall our aid workers from East Africa and Zaire in anticipation of increased need for them at home," one of the members announced for the next order of business. That had broad support. With the East Africa War long since over, the aid workers in Africa consisted mainly of Healers who were trying to get the Ebola outbreak under control. There would almost certainly be an increased need for Healers in Britain soon, and it took three weeks of quarantine to recall them from the hot zone. But on the other hand, the situation in Zaire was objectively much worse. The Ebola outbreak had raged for a year and was continuing to worsen. Thousands of muggles had died along with quite a few wizards, and the muggle governments at home and abroad were growing alarmed that it could spread farther.
There was a big argument to be made that getting the epidemic under control in the magical community was a high priority for the magical world as a whole. Comparisons were made with the Dragon Pox Epidemic of 1979, which was made that much worse by the war and killed more wizards than Voldemort and the Death Eaters had up to that point. But fear once again won out, and the Healers were pulled back. Admittedly, even Harry wasn't sure what the right choice was there. The good news, though, was that magical Britain was solidly on a war footing. They were about as ready as they could be for whatever Voldemort was preparing to throw at them.
"I made a miscalculation with Potter, I admit," Volemort told his followers. Now that his servants were recovering, it was time to tell them the full story of his…exile. Yes, that had a nice ring to it—an exile followed by a triumphant return. He would tell Lockhart to write it up later. "Surprisingly, it was not the idiot Pettigrew's fault. I attacked without having all of the information, and I ignored the obscure protection that Lily Potter placed on her infant son, and I was grievously wounded. After a number of years and some fruitless efforts on my part, Amycus and Alecto and young Barty sought me out, as you know. Unfortunately, my return to power was complicated. My method of ensuring immortality was experimental, and while it worked as intended, returning me to a body proved more difficult than I anticipated. After exploring several avenues, we came upon Lady Pantera, and I hired her services. It was thanks to her efforts that I appeared to my less-than-loyal followers in the graveyard. She remains here so that she may continue to work on some private matters."
La Pantera opened her mouth, probably to say just what those private matters were, but Voldemort shot her a harsh look reminding her that discretion was part of the job he'd hired her for.
"My Lord," Bellatrix said. "The magic you used to defeat Dumbledore at Azkaban—I had never seen anything like it. Did you learn it in your travels?"
"No, my dear Bella, that was a happy coincidence," he replied. He approached her with an approximation of a smile. "Lady Pantera's ritual had a useful extra effect—giving me mastery of fire in all its forms." He drew a finger across her cheek with enough heat to fall just short of a burn, and she all but melted into his arms.
"Ah, such power, my Lord," she said softly.
He smirked. She'd always been so easy towards him. Bellatrix had had a tense interaction with La Pantera since their return from Azkaban. She viewed the Dark Lady as too disrespectful while La Pantera clearly saw Bellatrix as a lapdog. He hoped they would get along better, mainly because it would mean one less headache for him.
"And now you know the full tale," he told them. "Now that we are all assembled, we can begin our campaign. With Macnair's and Rowle's return, we have the giants on our side, along with the dementors and some of the werewolves, and we have the services of a master scryer on call. Soon, Britain will be ours!"
"Huzzah!" the Death Eaters yelled enthusiastically. A bit of an old-fashioned affectation even by his standards, but he didn't begrudge them. Macnair and Rowle had done good work. They had got the giants on their side easily, despite Dumbledore's stooges trying to win them over. They had opened relations successfully with Konstantin Jugashvili, whose impressive command of Siberian ritual magic could be very useful in the future. And Jugashvili had also provided a very interesting contact in Africa…
"Rookwood, with me," he said. "We will have the conversation we ought to have had fourteen years ago about prophecies."
Fifth year was definitely different for Harry and Hermione than the previous ones, not least because they were starting as prefects this year. That meant a special meeting at the start of the train ride to go over their duties and hand out patrol assignments. The Head Boy, Roger Davies, and the Head Girl, Patricia Stimpson, ran the meeting. Anthony Goldstein was the new Ravenclaw prefect for the boys, who for once didn't try to start an argument over which of the three of them had the highest exam score. Padma Patil joined him from his own house. Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan served for Hufflepuff, and to their dismay, Draco Malfoy was the newest prefect from Slytherin, although his partner, Daphne Greengrass, was a decent sort in their estimation.
"Oh, it's you, Malfoy," Harry said when they saw him "So they let you come back here, did they?"
"And what's that supposed to mean, Potter?" he said. "I haven't done anything."
"Yet."
"Harry, be nice," Hermione said.
But Harry wasn't in a mood to be nice—not after seeing Malfoy's father in that graveyard.
"Better listen to your sister," Malfoy said. "You wouldn't want to get in trouble your first day back."
"And you'd better watch your step, Sparrow," Harry said. "I've got my eye on you."
"Please, Furface, like I'd try anything under Dumbledore's crooked nose."
"Oh? Then you might be smarter than your father."
"You have a problem with my father?" Malfoy demanded. Hermione gripped Harry's arm tightly. He definitely didn't want to get into an honour duel on the first day back.
"Several," he answered, "but none we need to discuss here. We both know what your father's done, even if it's not public record."
"I'm sure you think you do. But we'll have to continue this conversation later," he said with no intention of doing so.
After the prefects' meeting, Harry had to face a lot of questions on his and Hermione's patrol round, which he mostly brushed off. He couldn't decide whether he wanted to laugh or cry when he realised that more people wanted to see him turn into a cat than hear about his fight with Voldemort. Either way, he refused. Changing in front of people without good reason was something he reserved for his family, and now Luna.
Wow, that came out wrong.
When they reached Hogsmeade Station, the first thing they noticed was that Hagrid wasn't there to greet the first years. Instead, Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, who had taken over Hagrid's duties during his brief stint in Azkaban in their second year, escorted the first years to the boats. The rest went to the carriages as usual, but Harry stopped short there. He could see the thestrals now.
"It's okay, Harry. I can see them too," Luna said, taking his hand. She led him gently in front of the carriage where she directed him to pet one of the skeletal horses' snouts. They stood there until people yelled at them to get out of the way.
"I wonder where Hagrid is," Harry said.
"Wasn't there something about him going to the giants?" she asked.
"Yes, but he should be back by now. I hope he's okay."
"Well, to be honest, Harry, after the Skrewts, a new teacher might be a nice change," Luna said. Harry rather liked Hagrid, but he had to admit she had a point.
The Great Hall of Hogwarts was as majestic as ever with its enchanted ceiling and thousands of floating candles shining down on the students and glimmering off the gold plates and cups. The Hall still looked a little empty, owing to the small third- through seventh-year classes—all children born during or soon after the last war. The post-war baby boom didn't start until the second-year class, but the new first years would go a long way towards filling in some of that empty space at the House Tables.
The lineup at the High Table looked decidedly different this year, and considerably larger. Dumbledore looked down kindly from the middle, but all three of the Grand Sorcerers from the police mission were there as well, and some other newcomers. Harry was shocked to see a centaur standing at one end where Hagrid normally sat. He thought it was the same Firenze that he had met in the Second Task and wondered what he was doing there. As he sat, he heard several girls whisper about his luxurious mane and muscular chest, which made Hermione roll her eyes. He was still putting the pieces together when Professor McGonagall led the first years into the Great Hall.
Last year, the Sorting Hat had been jubilant with the first large incoming class in years, all the special events of last year, and the lack of a threat of impending war (though it had surely heard whispers from Dumbledore). This year, however, the Hat's song was long and solemn. It sang of the coming war and warned of the danger of disunity within Hogwarts—that all four houses must stand together against the enemy, or the school would crumble from within. Many people pointedly looked at the Slytherins at that point.
Even so, Dumbledore put on a happy face for the students—or perhaps he truly was happy. Harry had always got the impression that teaching children was the one of his many jobs that the Headmaster enjoyed most. The Sorting took a while, but the feast afterwards was excellent, as usual. Finally, it wound down, and Dumbledore made his start-of-term announcements.
"First years ought to know that the forest on the grounds is out of bounds to students without a professor escorting them," he said, "something a few of our older students ought to know by now, too." He looked pointedly at the Weasley Twins. "Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has asked me to remind you for what he assures me is the four hundred and sixty-second time that no magic is permitted in the corridors." As if anyone ever followed that rule, Harry thought. It almost wasn't worth having. "Also, an extensive list of forbidden items is posted on his office door. Tryouts for house Quidditch Teams will take place the second week of classes, and Professor Sprout has asked me to tell all of you to watch for announcements of a club dedicated to the new broomstick sport, Ricochet, which was exhibitioned here last spring.
"You have no doubt noticed that we've had a number of changes in staff this year. First, please welcome our three foreign dignitaries who have joined us this year as part of an International Confederation of Wizards mission. Returning from last year is former Minister for Magic of Australia Edward Grayson, and joining him are the Chinese Seer Fan Tong and her aide, Chang Jie, and the American wandmaker Old Coyote." There was polite applause for the guests as they stood. "While we don't have as many exciting events as last year, each of these three distinguished magic users will be giving seminars this year in their respective fields of expertise. In addition to this, I am pleased to announce that Professor Grayson has also agreed to serve as this year's Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor."
Harry's jaw dropped as the students applauded. The set books for Defence this year certainly looked interesting, but he'd never imagined Grayson would be their new teacher. In retrospect, though, he supposed he should have known that Grayson, as a veteran of Grindelwald's War, would have set a book about it. Well, he was certainly eager to see that class.
"Next, please welcome back Professor Wilhelmina Grubbly-Plank, who will be taking over as Groundskeeper and Care of Magical Creatures Professor while Professor Hagrid is on leave," Dumbledore continued. There was more polite applause for her. "And I must announce that Professor Trelawney will also be on leave this year. She will still be in the castle, but she has requested a sabbatical to pursue a one-year apprenticeship with Madam Fan. In the meantime, Divination Class will be taught by Professor Firenze." He motioned to the centaur.
"And finally," he said, "most of you will know by now that our own wandmaker, Garrick Ollivander, closed his shop in Diagon Alley a few weeks ago out of safety concerns. Mr. Ollivander will also be staying with us in the castle this year while his family runs his shop in Hogsmeade. What you may not know is that this year, we have broken with tradition and asked the first year students not to purchase a wand before coming to Hogwarts. Instead, the first years will receive their wands in a Wand-Matching Ceremony over the weekend, modelled on those of the American magical schools. I encourage anyone who is having problems with their wand or who wishes to buy a new wand to speak with Mr. Ollivander before classes begin. And now, off to bed with you."
There was a great clattering as everyone pushed back from the tables. "First years follow us, please!" Hermione called, and about twenty-five small-looking children lined up behind her and Harry.
"Blimey, were we ever that tiny?" Harry asked.
"Of course we were, Harry. Come along, all of you. Don't wander off. The castle changes sometimes. You don't want to get lost."
They led the first years up to the Common Room, and the rest of the students went up to bed, but Harry and Hermione kept them around for a short talk. Not all prefects did this, but many considered it good practice.
"Welcome to Gryffindor," Hermione told them, "My name is Hermione Granger, and this is my brother, Harry Potter."
Most of the first years looked up at Harry in awe. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions," he said, "so I want to get a few of the most common ones out of the way now so you don't have to ask them later: Yes I am the Harry Potter. Yes, I did fight Voldemort. Yes, he is a scary, evil son of a bitch, and I barely got away from him with my life. Unfortunately, Cedric Diggory wasn't so lucky. Yes, I can turn into a cat. No, I will not show you. Okay?"
The kids nodded, looking a little intimidated. "Good. Now, Gryffindor is the house of the brave, the chivalrous, and, admittedly on occasion, the foolish," he continued. "We Gryffindors are the sort to stand up in the face of overwhelming odds, to help those in need, to fight for right, no matter the cost. But we can also have a tendency for theatrics, for self-righteousness, and for a certain arrogance, thinking we're better than everyone else—not all of us, but it's common enough. Sometimes it's all of the above. Sometimes it's none of the above, but it is something to keep an eye out for."
"What we're saying is that no house is all good or all bad," Hermione took over. "But what we are is family. We stand up for each other. We protect each other. If any of you has a problem, you can come talk to Harry or me, one of the other prefects, or Professor McGonagall—whomever you feel comfortable with—and we'll do our best to support you."
"Yes, but we also expect to see good behaviour," Harry said. "We'll especially be watching out for bullying, and I bring that up specifically because we're living in such tense times. You remember what the Sorting Hat said. We must stand united not just as Gryffindor, but as Hogwarts. We're all in this together, so we don't want to see anyone dividing us."
Harry could tell some of them wanted to protest, probably regarding the Slytherins, but a lot of the others seemed to be agreeing with him. That was a good sign to start the year.
"Okay, then," Hermione finished up. "Girls' dorms are up the left-hand staircase, boys' dorms on the right. You'll both be four flights up from the Common Room, and the doors are marked for First Year. Boys are not allowed in the girls' dorms. Don't try it. It is not pretty."
"What about girls in the boys' dorm?" one of the girls said, eliciting giggles from several others.
"We can't stop you. There's no spell to stop it because…the Founders thought girls were more responsible, I guess," Hermione said, "but we do not encourage it, and we expect you not to abuse the privilege."
"Any other questions, and you can ask us in the morning," Harry said. "And remember, it takes a while to find your way around the castle. If you get lost, stop and ask for directions right away. Otherwise, you might not find your way back until supper."
"Alright, I'm sure you're tired, so head up to bed. Your trunks will already be up there. Good night," Hermione finished.
The firsties all dispersed, leaving Harry and Hermione alone in the Common Room. "Well, so far so good," Harry said.