Act 1, Scene 1
5th year, September 1995
Gregory Goyle
A sharp, autumn breeze tore through a nameless forest, separating a leaf from its weakened stem and sending it floating through the crisp, cool air of Northern Scotland. The brisk winds carried it along through villages large and small, where it brushed against chimneys and mingled with other leaves before heading on its own once more. Boosted upwards thanks to a sudden updraft, the leaf beheld a massive castle on the horizon. This, of course, was Hogwarts, School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, possibly the most magical place in Great Britain. Students milled around the grounds in small groups, talking amongst themselves and enjoying the pleasant breeze. Other students could be seen lying on their beds lazily or practicing magic in abandoned classrooms. The leaf sailed in the air for a little while longer before the wind finally tired of it, sending it through a window where it promptly floated in front of, perhaps, two of the least magical people in the entire castle.
Gregory Goyle was walking with his best friend, Vincent Crabbe, when his companion cursed loudly and swept a leaf off his face. He grabbed the leaf and ripped it apart savagely, then tossed the crumpled pieces on the ground and spat on them.
"You're pretty angry today, Vince," he said. "Why's that?"
Crabbe stomped on the scattered leaf one more time for good measure before turning to his friend with a glare.
"I just hate seeing those dirty mudbloods and self-righteous Gryffindors all the time. I hate that they're outside, happy when they should be bowed before us, serving their…err…" He stopped walking for a moment, rubbing his forehead while searching for the correct word.
Gregory stopped beside his friend and helped him complete his thought. "Serving their betters?"
"That's right, their betters! Look at them, running around like monkeys. I'll fight every mudblood until they crawl on the ground like the animals they are!" Suddenly, Crabbe's eyes lit up. Greg followed his gaze and saw that one of the very people he had been insulting had just turned a corner into the hall. Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnegan, both Gryffindors, with Dean being muggleborn, had entered the hall, chatting amongst themselves. Crabbe eyed them with anticipation and no lack of malice.
Unlike his partner, Greg was not so confident. "Are you sure you wanna fight 'em Vince? Our magic isn't the best…oof!" Greg's hand rubbed his side where Crabbe's fist had hit him. "What was that for?"
"For being a coward Greg!" Crabbe turned his head and bored his beady eyes into Goyle's wide ones. "You're why things are how they are," he continued, "You would bow to a mudblood and disgrace us betters! You…" His tirade was interrupted by a new voice, this one belonging to one of the newer occupants of the hall.
"What did you say?" The muggleborn Gryffindor Thomas had clearly overheard Crabbe's remark. Crabbe turned back, sneering in the voice's direction.
"You heard me, mudblood. I'll trample your lot into the dirt where you belong! Get it, because your blood is mud?" Crabbe began to giggle at his clever joke, but shut up when he saw two wands pointed in his direction.
"You take that back," said Finnegan, "or I will blast you into the ground. Then we'll see who belongs there more!"
Crabbe had already begun running towards the two Gryffindors, intent on beating them into a pulp. Greg sighed, dreading the confrontation while knowing he would have to support his friend. He took out his wand just in time to see Crabbe being blasted backwards. He began shooting all the offensive spells he knew at his enemy, which amounted to basic first and second-year hexes. He found himself rapidly disarmed and could only watch in dismay as his wand flew in the direction of the mudblood's hand. It never made it there. Instead, both Gryffindors also found themselves weaponless, their wands joining his with a clatter on the tiles.
"What is going on here?" Another student had entered the hall, the fifth-year Gryffindor prefect Granger. "How many times do I have to tell students that there is no fighting in the hallways?" Crabbe would curse him if he knew, but to Goyle, her bossy voice was music to his ears. He knew when to choose his principles and when to choose self-preservation. Despite being a mudblood and a Gryffindor, she had pretty much saved him, after all.
Unfortunately, Crabbe didn't agree. Having recovered from Finnegan's banishing charm, he slowlygot up, shook his head, and began charging at Granger. Goyle watched as Granger effortlessly petrified him, sending Crabbe crashing to the floor once again.
Unfortunately, the tail end of this exchange seemed to have been caught by yet another passerby.
"What do you think you are doing, Granger?" interjected a high, reedy voice. Clad in robes of green and silver, Theodore Nott had entered the fray. "Cursing your betters?" Nott made a tsking sound. "Such savagery I would have thought beneath a prefect, but it's clear that ill breeding will always shine through."
Granger ignored the insult in favor of explaining her actions.
"Look, Nott. I was merely attempting to end a fight between Crabbe, Goyle, Dean, and Seamus. I'd just disarmed both Dean and Seamus when Crabbe started to run at me. I was keeping the peace, as a prefect should." She put her hands on her hips, and Goyle couldn't help but think that her slight pout looked quite adorable.
Theo was of a different mind. "Peace!" he spat. "I hate peace. I hate it almost as much as Gryffindors, blood-traitors, and about half as much as I despise mudbloods like you." Before Granger could even pull an affronted face, he whipped out his wand and began to cast at her.
"Bombarda! Depulso!"
Granger, however, was just as quick. She dodged out of the way and sent her own spells back at him.
"Stupefy! Expelliarmus! Rictumsempra!"
The situation seemed only to get worse. A small crowd had gathered, drawn by the raised voices and colorful jets of light emerging from each wand. But the worst was yet to come. Granger had begun to get the better of Nott, pushing him backwards out of the hallway. Desperate to avoid her spells, Nott focused on dodging and retreating, and therefore was caught completely off guard when he tripped over a flowing black robe, directly into the chest of Professor Snape.
The look that the head of Slytherin was giving Granger could have quailed stone. She immediately lowered her wand with a wide-eyed look. "I'm sorry, professor. Nott was attacking me, and I had no choice but to try and disarm him, but he kept on trying to fight and he also called me terrible names and insulted my family…"
"Excuses, Ms. Granger, are not befitting a prefect," came Snape's soft, silky voice. "Perhaps I should have a little meeting with Minerva and have her…reconsider her choice in student leadership?"
What little color was left in Granger's face fled, leaving her as pale as a ghost. Luckily for her, yet another figure made its way into the hall.
"There will be no need for that, Severus." Professor McGonagall chose this moment to make herself known. "I've talked with Mr. Finnegan and Mr. Thomas, and their stories have painted a clear picture of the cause of this mess," she turned and looked severely at the three offending Slytherins, "and I believe, that Mr. Nott, Mr. Goyle, and Mr. Crabbe will be serving detention with me next Saturday."
"What?" Theo said, his expression morphing from smug to affronted in an instant. He turned towards Professor Snape, who looked similarly outraged. "Granger attacked Vincent and Gregory, and when I tried to help them, she turned on me! Does this institution's favoritism towards the Gryffindors know no bounds?"
"What?" Whether Vincent was parroting Theo or just slow on the uptake, Gregory could not decide. He knew he was not the sharpest quill in the stack, but his friend had moments that would make even Greg himself look like Hermione Granger. And that, decided his possibly very infatuated mind, was quite the compliment.
Speaking of the object of his admiration, she was looking right at him! His heart skipped a beat even though she most likely was just waiting to see him repeat Vincent's words and make a fool of himself. Goyle decided that he would instead take advantage of one of the few times her eyes were on him to try his best to impress her…by impersonating a statue.
Was that a hint of respect in her eyes? Greg hoped so. She turned away, but the warmth of her gaze lingered on. Raised voices made him turn his head as well.
The professors were beginning to argue. Professor Snape wanted a suspension of Granger's prefect privileges and a formal apology, while McGonagall insisted on detention for the Slytherins. The crowd joined in; students with red ties hurled insults at their green-tied classmates, who gave as good as they got. Members of each house gathered behind their respective heads, pointing fingers and brandishing wands.
At last, this situation came to a head when a Ravenclaw, hidden among the various Slytherins, cast a Silencio at a particularly loudmouthed Gryffindor named Cormac McLaggen. Suddenly, the floodgates opened. The hall was a madhouse, and the two professors found themselves on the same side. Their shield charms failed due to the massive volume of spells that they had to contain. Too overwhelmed to defend, they tried their best instead to subdue the students in the brawl, but this was made vastly more difficult by the ever-increasing number of students flooding into the cramped hallway. It looked like the conflict would continue to grow, but miraculously and suddenly, everybody stopped.
A massive magical presence filled the embattled hallway, cowing even the bravest Gryffindors.
"ENOUGH!" Headmaster Dumbledore's voice boomed, magically amplified so that every student could hear the headmaster as if he was speaking into their ears. "That will be seventy-five points from Gryffindor and Slytherin, and fifteen points from Ravenclaw. All of you present can explain to your housemates why their hard-earned points are missing from their hourglasses.
"I'm very disappointed in each and every one of you. Do we give you so much free time that you can waste it on such meaningless brawls? There will have to be a punishment," said Dumbledore, and everyone held their breath. "Each of you will be forbidden from visiting Hogsmeade next Saturday. Be warned that participation in another fight such as this one may result in an expulsion." A collective gasp was heard from the gathered students, most of whom had expected a detention or a couple of hours of writing lines at the worst. Goyle wondered if that meant that the headmaster already knew everyone in the hallway.
"Do not waste time trying to visit Hogsmeade, for I already know the names of everybody here," said Dumbledore. Well, that answered his question. "Now disperse!"
Eager to leave the scene, the crowd trampled over its own members trying to escape the corridor. Goyle was among the last to leave. When he looked back, he saw a fascinating sight. The two heads of house looked smaller than they ever did before under Dumbledore's glare. Professor Snape had been right about one thing: the meeting with McGonagall was happening, just not in any way he had ever envisioned.
Harry Potter
Despite the wonderful weather outside, Harry Potter was in the common room, despondent. He raised his head and cast a baleful eye on a seventh-year couple cuddling together on a couch, then continued his moping. It was all he really did all day, anyway. Other than going to class, of course, but he was even considering just skipping them. What did they matter anyway? Cedric was dead, and in some kind of sick exchange, Voldemort had returned. A war was on the horizon, and yet the ministry kept its head in the sand, their latest pushback against the truth being the deplorable professor they sent to be in charge of Defense Against the Dark Arts. Umbridge kept them reading out of the most useless textbook he had ever seen (and this was including Lockhart's entire suite of 'textbooks') while refusing to allow any magic inside her classroom at all.
Harry wasn't sure if the toad was ignorant, ambitious to the point of psychopathy, or simply on Voldemort's side. What he could be sure about was that one of the most important years for preparing for the coming war was being wasted.
Maybe it was for the best. Harry was beginning to care less and less about the conflict and the people of magical Great Britain anyway. He had lost his parents and nearly lost his life four times trying to save the country from Voldemort and what did they give him in return? Scorn, distrust, and superficial praise, nothing else. The Prophet hounded him, the ministry was against him, and even Dumbledore, someone who had enough power and influence to change everything, kept silent. He didn't challenge Fudge. He let the Malfoys stay with their wealth and political power after the war. He even restricted information from Harry, supposedly the most important player in the resistance against Voldemort. Everything was against him, and now, Harry wasn't sure if he still had the strength within him to continue pressing against the tide.
Harry could have ignored this if he had a steady companion by his side. But even this he was denied.
He had first seen her last year. She was as pretty as a girl could be, graceful and lithe, yet forthright and blunt. She had said no when he had asked her, and he had respected her decision because she had had Cedric. This year, Cedric was dead. This year, Cho (for that was the name of Harry's most ardent desire) had a different countenance about her. Red-rimmed eyes, smudged makeup, and a permanent frown: no one approached her much anymore. No one, except for Harry.
Even as her depression over Cedric's death consumed her, Cho was, at least in Harry's eyes, still the personification of female perfection. It didn't matter that her hair was frazzled. It didn't matter that she had stopped coming to Quidditch practice. It didn't even matter that all she could talk about was Cedric. Harry would do anything for her. After spending days composing poems in her honor, he approached her.
Nothing could have prepared him for the vehement loathing that spewed out of her mouth during the encounter on the train. Every verbal curse cut sharp and left wounds deeper than any magical one could.
Why would she shoot down her one admirer so brutally when all he wanted was to keep her company and buoy her thoughts? It was just so confusing.
"How could she be fine with walking around so gloomily?" Harry wondered aloud. His mind supplied the other half of the sentence: …when I could be the one to make her happy?
"You are such a hypocrite, you know?" A familiar voice wrenched Harry out of his thoughts. "She hates you," said Hermione, "so why would you spend so much time thinking about someone like that? There are many other girls in this castle who would be more than happy to be attached to your arm. Why are you so happy to walk around this place so, well, unhappily?"
Harry glared at his friend. "She's not just some girl, Hermione. She's perfect for me. She's beautiful when she cries, radiant when she smiles, glorious when she flies around on the Quidditch pitch. No other girl could compare!" He exclaimed.
"Oh really?" Hermione's voice dropped, suddenly sounding very dangerous. "No other girl could ever compare to perfect little Cho Chang, who walks around like it's her mission to spread misery throughout this castle? Not even someone who has been by your side through thick and thin? Not someone who has always tried to help you through every problem you have ever had? Not even a girl like that?"
Harry realized his blunder, but his pride made him press on.
"'Someone who has been with me through thick and thin'? Really?" he asked scathingly. "Where were you when they isolated me with the Dursleys? Where were you when the dementors came?" Harry narrowed his eyes even further. "I'll tell you where you were. Safely lounging about in Sirius' library, probably reading books and having a jolly old time with Ron! 'Oh it's a real shame that poor Harry can't know about anything yet and he has to suffer with his relatives this entire summer, but it's actually for his benefit! He shouldn't know anything so he can keep his mind empty and be a good, obedient puppet all the time, perfect for Dumbledore's plans!' That's probably what you thought, isn't it?" he mocked.
Hermione looked aggrieved at this accusation, but Harry continued mercilessly.
"I'm done. I'm finished fighting everybody's battles for them. I'm just a kid. I deserve to have fun and do things that kids do. I'm done. If there's another troll in the bathroom, I don't think I'll intervene, not even for you," he finished.
The cruelty of his words hit him hard. Hermione did not deserve this kind of abuse. Not from anybody, least of all him. Harry waited for Hermione to blow up and readied himself to take it. To his surprise, it didn't happen.
"I think that by now, I would be able to handle a troll by myself, you know?
"Oh, Harry." She paused, then sighed. "I didn't know you felt that way. I promise I didn't mean anything like what you suggested, and if it came off like that, I'm sorry. Ron and I worried about you every day, and we begged Dumbledore over and over to let you come. We tried our hardest, I promise you." Hermione looked like she was about to cry.
Harry took a moment to consider how to repair the situation. After a long pause, he decided on trying a sincere apology.
"I'm sorry too, Hermione."
He pulled her down into the chair next to him and hugged her as tightly as he could.
"I didn't mean what I said. I've just been in such a mood lately. I'm not sure what's going on anymore."
Hermione returned the hug. They sat like that for a while, long enough that some rumors about a possible relationship between them had probably taken root. But at last, they released each other and looked at one another. After another long while, Hermione spoke.
"Let's go on a walk to clear our minds while we discuss these things. You know what you need? You need to get out of this funk you're in." Seeing that Harry was nearly asleep in the chair, Hermione sighed. "Fine. I see that you're tired, so we'll be walking tomorrow. Make sure to remember!"
"Mhmm, alright. Meet you tomorrow…"
"Great!" said Hermione. "It's a date!"
It took a moment for Harry's half-asleep mind to catch up to her words.
"Wait…what?"