Kindred Spirits
by Tailkinker
This is a work of fan fiction based on the Harry Potter series and the Sailor Moon franchise created respectively by J.K. Rowling and Naoko Takeuchi. The characters and settings belong to their respective owners and no copyright infringement is intended. This story is written purely for entertainment purposes and should not be considered as part of the official canon of either series.
Ministry Meddling
Normally, the Hogwarts Express arriving in Hogsmeade struck Harry as a homecoming. This year, however, he felt a decided touch of unease as he descended from the platform. As was usual for September at this latitude, the sun was just setting, casting the Hogsmeade valley in shadow. The sound of children disembarking from the train was muted somewhat. An early chill made him shiver, and he pulled his cloak more tightly around himself.
Hotaru was next off, immediately behind him, followed by Neville, Ami, Ginny and Luna. Ron, Hermione and Draco were shepherding new first-years, as befit their Prefect status, and George and Fred had gone off in search of Lee Jordan.
The horseless carriages stood before them, parked a little way off from the platform. Their doors stood open, their interiors polished. Unfortunately, Harry quickly realized that no single carriage would hold the six of them.
"We're going to have to split up, I'm afraid." He glanced down at Hotaru, then at the others. "Luna. Why don't you join Hotaru and I?"
"That's 'Hotaru and me'," said Luna absently. Harry blinked.
"Is it?"
"Oddly, yes," said Luna. "And I'll be happy to join you two." She walked to the front of the carriage, and began petting the air in front of it.
"Er..." Harry blinked. "What are you doing?"
"Petting the Thestrals," said Luna, as though it were obvious.
"The what?"
"They're terribly misunderstood creatures," said Luna. Harry had a thought that she was channeling Hagrid for a moment. "They have a bad reputation, because you can only see them if you've seen someone die."
Hotaru's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh, Luna...your mother?"
"I was there when she died," said Luna sadly.
Harry walked up beside her, and reached out. His hand encountered something—warm, leathery, a bit rough to the touch. But at the same time, he found it hard to concentrate on the sensation.
"What do they look like?" he asked.
"Rather like a winged horse," said Luna. "Though they are carnivorous, so in a few ways, not like that at all."
"I almost wish I could see them," mused Harry. "But given the cost...perhaps not."
"That's her," said Harry.
"Whom?" Hermione followed Harry's gaze. "Oh, that woman? She must be the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. What do you mean, 'that's her'?"
"That's the unpleasant woman from my appeal," said Harry. "The one who didn't want to accept my passport as evidence, because it was Muggle."
Hermione frowned. "If she works for the Ministry, what's she doing here? I thought the Ministry was barred from interfering with Hogwarts?"
"But the Ministry pays for Hogwarts to function," pointed out Ron. "That's the only reason all seven of us got to go to Hogwarts. We don't have to worry about tuition, like we would if we wanted to go to a different school."
The Sorting of the new first-year students was almost over. As Harry watched, "Zeller, Rose" was sorted into Hufflepuff. But Professor McGonagall did not collect the Hat and stool as Dumbledore stood.
"As you all know, every student who attends Hogwarts must be Sorted into one of our four Houses. As most of you will remember, Hogwarts played host to three other schools last year. One student from one of these schools has elected to spend her last year here at Hogwarts. So despite the fact that she will be entering her seventh year, she must be Sorted." He chuckled. "I daresay that this is the oldest student ever to sit beneath the Hat for her first time."
McGonagall called out, "Mizuno Ami."
As the Japanese witch made her way down the center of the Great Hall, Ron whispered to Harry. "A sickle says she's in Ravenclaw."
"No bet," said Harry with a grin.
Indeed, the Hat barely brushed her head before it called out, "Ravenclaw!"
The Hall broke into applause, especially Ravenclaw House. As Harry glanced over to the Eagle's table, however, he noted that Hotaru looked less than thrilled.
As the feast wound to a close, Dumbledore stood for his usual start-of-year announcements.
"Once again, I am afraid that I must bore you with an old man's ramblings before you head off to bed. Not to worry," he chuckled. "I'm sure you will have forgotten by the time you wake tomorrow.
"First of all, to our new students, you should be made aware of a few rules that are, alas, not included in your Hogwarts letter. You should know that the forest on the castle grounds is off limits to unescorted students. Indeed, I feel that many here should be aware of this, but for some reason seem not to be."
"Does he crack wise at Fred and George this way every year?" asked Harry.
"If so," said Ron, "this will be the last time. Mind you, we've had our fair share of visits to the forest ourselves, so he's probably good for at least two more years."
"And joining us this year is Professor Umbridge," continued Dumbledore, "who will be taking on the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts.
"Our caretaker, Mr Filch, has—"
"Hem-hem."
Dumbledore paused, as though astounded that anybody would have the temerity to interrupt him. Professor Umbridge had risen from her seat.
"Thank you, Headmaster," she began, "for those kind words of welcome."
Harry didn't think that they'd been particularly welcoming.
"I'm so happy to be back here at Hogwarts," she said, smiling overly broadly. "And what a delight it is to see so many happy, friendly faces smiling back at me. I can tell we're all going to be great friends."
Unlikely, thought Harry.
"I have been sent by the Ministry to oversee Hogwarts in these trying times," she continued. "The staff of this great school has been given too free a hand, and standards have sadly slipped over the years. We must examine all of the curriculum, preserving that which makes us better, altering that which is not up to our high standards, and prohibiting that which must be avoided.
"While my mandate is primarily to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, I will be examining many other aspects of this school's operation, ensuring that everything is held up to the required standards." She smiled again. "I am certain that we shall have an excellent year together."
She sat back down. Dumbledore waited a beat longer, then continued.
"Thank you, Professor Umbridge. As I was saying, our caretaker, Mr Filch, has asked me to remind you that no magic is to be used in the corridors. In addition, he has updated the list of banned items. It can be found posted on his door, as well as on the walls to either side of said door.
"Now, it still lacks a few minutes until ten, so if you still have an odd corner of tummy that could be padded out with pudding, by all means, clear your plates. And then I shall wish you a fond good night."
Dumbledore sat back down, and the noise level in the Great Hall rose again.
"Clearly, the Ministry is going to try to interfere here at Hogwarts," observed Hermione.
"Notice that she said 'standards' three separate times?" asked Harry. "Sounds like she's operating from someone else's play-book."
"I hate to say this," said Hermione slowly. "But I suspect that she's going to be going after you."
"Seems likely," observed Harry. "She clearly had it in for me at my appeal."
"But you do recall that the Ministry has been denying that Voldemort's back?" Hermione frowned. "Plus, they've been slandering you and Dumbledore pretty badly in the Daily Prophet."
"That rag is well named, but poorly spelled." Harry grinned. "Should be Daily Profit. As in earnings."
"And I suppose you think that The Quibbler is better?" she asked frostily. Luna's infatuation with that tabloid had rubbed her the wrong way during the train trip.
"It might be full of rubbish, but at least they believe the rubbish," said Harry. "Rather than printing whatever Fudge pays them to print."
"Well, be as it may." Hermione clearly wanted to get off this topic, despite the fact that she'd started it. "We need to head up to the tower. Ron."
"Mmf?" Ron looked up, his mouth full of pumpkin pie.
"We need to escort the first-years. It's the fifth-year Prefects' duty, remember?"
"Right." He swallowed his mouthful of pie, and stood up. "Listen up! All first-years, gather over here, please."
He watched as the first-years made their way towards him. He glanced over at Harry. "Were we ever this short, Harry?"
"Me, yeah," said Harry. "Not sure about you, though."
Ron grinned, then turned back to the first years. "Okay, listen up. I'm going to lead you up to our common room, and give you the password. If you lose sight of me somehow, look for Hermione. She's another Prefect."
Hermione raised her hand, and several first-years craned their necks to see her.
"Once we're upstairs, we'll get you situated in bed. I know it's late; we typically only run this late on the first day. So: Everybody, follow me."
Ron led off, a train of first-years following him like ducklings, and Hermione and Harry followed them.
"He's taking this seriously, isn't he?" asked Harry.
Hermione nodded. "It surprised me. I expected him to do the job half-hearted at best, or to abuse the position at worst."
"Maybe he's finally growing up," said Harry.
