Harry and Luna watched the castle come into view, passing between the tall stone winged boar topped pillars on either side of the gates into the school grounds. He could not help scan the grounds, searching for the pinpricks of light or smoke trail that would mark Hagrid's cabin by the Forbidden Forest. With a murmured spell, he enhanced his night vision, piercing the darkness to find… nothing.
Hogwarts Castle, its mass towers and turrets were jet black against the dark sky, the light blazing from its many windows twinkling lights. He stared at the back of the gaunt skeletal creature, "Luna," he asked quietly, "What are they?"
"Threstrals," she replied airily, "The more fanciful myths and legends say that these are the mounts that the Four Horsemen, the heralds of the Apocalypse," she explained with a shrug. "Those who can see them are those who have seen death and remember it," for the first time she hesitated, "first hand." First hand, that explained why he could see them. He lapsed into silence and Luna said nothing, letting them complete the ride in silence. They dismounted just outside the great doors that lead into the entrance hall and awaited the rest of the group.
Together, they crossed the flagstone floor into the Great Hall and the start-of-term feast. The Great Hall was just as Harry remembered it: Four long tables under a starless black ceiling, which was just like the sky they could glimpse through the high windows. Candles floated in midair all along with the tables, illuminating the silvery ghosts who were dotted about the Hall and the faces of the students talking eagerly, exchanging summer news, shouting greetings at friends from other houses, eyeing one another's new haircuts and robes. Again, Harry noticed people putting their heads together to whisper as he passed; he gritted his teeth and tried to act as though he neither noticed nor cared.
It was harder to pretend not to notice or care when they moved to sit at the Gryffindor table. They had one end of the table to themselves, with a fair amount of space separating them from even the second years, let alone the students from the upper years. But then, he had more important things to worry about. Specifically, the staff table, "Who's that?" asked Colin, pointing towards the middle of the staff table with an almost lazily raised finger.
Harry stared at Dumbledore for a long moment, though their eyes met for a long moment, Harry did not back down when the headmaster sent a cautious Legilimency probe. His face bore no reaction as he held the headmaster's gaze. The mind probe touched the outmost defenses of his mind, where it was gently repulsed. Harry's own counterattack was the exact opposite as the probe smashed hard into Dumbledore's shield that made the aged wizard winch. Harry broke off the assault, noting the wince with satisfaction. Perhaps that would teach the old bastard not to try and meddle with his mind.
Harry found the unfamiliar face sitting at the staff table. She was short and squat with curly mousy hair with a pink Alice band that matched a ridiculously fluffy pink cardigan worn over her robes. She turned her face slightly to sip from her goblet, bringing her face into the light, "Umbridge," growled Harry.
Umbridge had been at his hearing and then a judge at the TriWizard Tournament that concluded with the death of his girlfriend, a friend and fellow champion, and the rebirth of Voldemort.
"Nice cardigan," smirked Colin, "Think I can hex her from here?"
"No," muttered Luna, "There is no one else, so she is it." Luna flicked a lock of hair behind her ear, "That is our new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor."
"And, she works for Fudge," Harry drummed his fingers on the table, wondering what that meant for his long-term plans as Professor Grubby-Plank appeared and worked her way along the table to take Hagrid's seat. Moments later, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened to present the unsorted first years. They were a long line of scared faces, led by Professor McGonagall who carried a stool and the ancient Sorting Hat, as heavily patched and darned as ever. She placed the hat and it began to sing. It was another year and the song was different, very different from those of previous years.
"In times of old when I was new
And Hogwarts barely started
The Founders of our noble school
Thought never to be parted:
united by a common goal,
They had the self-same yearning
To make the world's best magic school
And pass along their learning.
"Together we will build and teach!"
It was… long to say the least. However, the essence of it was clear to anyone had an ounce of common sense
Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
The warning history shows,
For our Hogwarts is in danger
From external, deadly foes
And we must unite inside her
Or we'll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you..
Let the sorting now begin
The Hat became motionless once more; applause broke out, though it was punctured for the first time in Harry's memory, with muttering and whispers. All across the Great Hall students were exchanging remarks with their neighbors, and Harry, clapping along with everyone else, knew exactly what they were talking about, "Branched out a bit this year, hasn't it?" said Fred, his eyebrows raised.
"Too right it has," agreed Harry.
The Sorting Hat usually confined itself to describing the different qualities looked for by each of the four Hogwarts houses and its own role in Sorting them. Harry could not remember it ever trying to give the school advice before. "I wonder if it's ever given warnings before?" said Neville, sounding slightly anxious.
"Yes, indeed," said Nearly Headless Nick knowledgeably, " The Hat, is an extension of the Lady herself, and she believes she is honor‐bound to give the school due warning whenever she feels ‐" Whatever Nick was going to say was cut short by the scorching glare of Professor McGonagall. With a last frowning look that encompassed the four house tables, she unrolled the long piece of parchment and called out the first name, "Abercrombie, Euan."
Slowly, the long line of first‐years thinned and it was not long before the last of the first years was sorted with "Zeller, Rose" joining Hufflepuff House. Professor McGonagall picked up the Hat and stool and marched them away as Dumbledore rose to his feet.
The sight headmaster standing there, before the assembled students left Harry uncertain what he should feel about the headmaster as he stood to address the students before the start‐of‐term feast, "To our newcomers,ʹ said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands ‐ welcome back! There is a time for speech‐making, but this is not it. Tuck in!"
There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate as food appeared, leaving the five tables groaning under the weight of food and beverages. They began helping themselves as Luna turned her attention back to Nearly Headless Nick, "What were you saying about the Hat giving warnings?"
"I have heard the Hat give several warnings before, always at times when it detects periods of great danger for the school. And always it has given the same advice: Find the strength within and stand together."
Colin had helped himself to the mashed potatoes, paused with his fork midway to his mouth, "How can the hat know if the school is in danger?"
The ghost smiled, almost affectionately, "You forget that Hogwarts is no mere building. The amount of magic from those living within her makes her alive, and aware of not just her surroundings, but also grants her an awareness of events in the wider wizarding world, but she is still just a building."
"And she wants the houses to unite and stand together?" said Harry as Colin snorted in disgust at the mere mention of such cooperation. Harry looked over at the Slytherin table and shook his head, "I'd rather kiss a pig."
There were chuckles around their end of the table as they easily blocked out the stares, whispered comments, and finger-pointing in their direction. Harry was used to the banter and playful bickering between Ginny, Luna, and the twins and knew better than to get in the middle of that fiasco. He spent the time chewing his way steadily through a number of roasted chicken legs and a large helping of his favorite treacle tart.
The students were finished eating and the noise level in the Great Hall was creeping upwards when Dumbledore got to his feet and began with the usual round of notices regarding the Forbidden Forest, Hogsmeade weekends and Filch's four hundred and sixty-second warning about magic in the corridors and the banned products list. He had heard it all before and easily tuned it out, idly wondering about the four-poster bed in his dormitory and how comfortable it would be to just curl up under the blanket with Crookshanks on his feet. With a pang, he realized that he was looking at a lot of nights without Fleur and he shuddered involuntarily at that thought. Fortunately, there was a way around that, "…fessor Umbridge, our new Defense against the Dark Arts teacher."
There was a round of polite but unenthusiastic applause as Dumbledore continued, "Tryouts for the house Quidditch teams will take place on the ‐" He broke off, looking enquiringly at Professor Umbridge. As she was not much taller standing than sitting, there was a moment when nobody understood why Dumbledore had stopped talking, but then Professor Umbridge cleared her throat, ʹHem, hem,ʹ and it became clear that she had got to her feet and was intending to make a speech.
Dumbledore only looked taken aback for a moment, and then he sat down smartly and looked alertly at Professor Umbridge as though he desired nothing better than to listen to her talk. Other members of staff were not as adept at hiding their surprise. Professor Sprout's eyebrows had disappeared into her flyaway hair and Professor McGonagall's mouth was as thin as Harry had ever seen it. No new teacher had ever interrupted Dumbledore before. Many of the students were smirking, echoing Harry's own thoughts that the bitch did not know how things are at Hogwarts.
"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome." Her voice was high‐pitched, breathy, and a little‐girlish, and again, Harry felt a powerful rush of dislike that he could not explain to himself; all he knew was that he loathed everything about her, from her stupid voice to her fluffy pink cardigan. She gave another little throat‐clearing cough and continued. "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth. "And to see such happy little faces looking up at me!"
Harry glanced around. None of the faces he could see looked happy. On the contrary, they all looked rather taken‐aback at being addressed as though they were five years old, "Somebody," muttered Harry grimly to his friends, "is going to have to teach her to keep her forked tongue behind her teeth."
"I am very much looking forward to getting to know you all and I'm sure we'll be very good friends!" everyone was exchanging barely concealed grins, especially the twins. Harry realized that he had just given the Prank Masters - all three of them license to bring their own brand of warfare to bear.
When she continued, some of the breathiness had vanished from her voice. She sounded much more businesslike and now her words had a dull learned‐by‐heart sound to them, "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…"
Harry found his attentiveness waning and wishing someone would throw something at her. He felt his brain was slipping in and out of consciousness, as did, just about everyone else except for a few who seemed to possess an innate ability to counter such soporific drivel.
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 Luna, in her usual dreamy fashion. Colin nodded his agreement as did Neville and Harry felt a sense of relief that a number of them had actually managed to stay focused. He'd given up pretty quickly.
"You're going to have to…" said George as he suppressed a yawn.
"fill the two… three of us in then," completed Fred and he did yawn and try to shake himself awake.
"Four," added Harry.
"Five," said Neville
"I know what they mean," agreed Ginny, "We grew up with Percy and this out does Perfect Percy by a few hundred miles."
"Well," said Luna airily," all it basically means is that the Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts." 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. Harry caught more than one gaze dart in his direction and the groundswell of muttering and more than one cautiously pointed finger as he stood and prepared to join the crowd of students heading to their respective dormitories.
He had been stupid not to expect this, he thought angrily. Of course, everyone was staring at him; he had emerged from the Triwizard maze two months previously, clutching the body of his girlfriend, the wand of a deceased champion and there had been no real official explanation. The summer holiday had started, everyone had been sent home where they had listened, read, and been pummeled into submission by the crap from the Daily Prophet.
Harry had debated the idea with Fleur and both Marinashka and Griphook had concurred, "To control the media, is to control the mind." He had hoped that his actions the year before would have stuck with some of the students, but they had not. Barring his friends, he realized and the few members of the Order of the Phoenix he now had on his side he faced an uphill battle. No, not an uphill battle… he faced a war on two fronts: Against the Ministry. Against Voldemort. And he was not sure which one was the greater threat.
Harry had reached the end of the corridor to the Gryffindor common room and came to a halt in front of the portrait of the Fat Lady with a start. He didn't know the new password. He stared up at the Fat Lady who smoothed folds of her pink satin dress and looked down at him, "no password, normally means no entrance," she winked, "But for a friend of the Lady of the Castle, no password is necessary." Her portrait began to swing open towards them when Harry caught the edge of the frame.
"Thank you." He said, missing the look of polite surprise as he climbed through the portrait hole. The Gryffindor common room was the same as ever: overstuffed sofas, dilapidated squashy armchairs, and rickety old tables. With a start, he realized that he had not set foot inside for a long time. A fire was crackling merrily in the grate and few were warming their hands by the blaze. "Where's Colin?" he asked suddenly.
"Walking Luna to Ravenclaw." He nodded good night to his friends and ascended the stairs to the dormitories, in not much of a talking mood, with Neville a few paces behind.
Dean Thomas and Seamus Finnigan had reached the dormitory first and were in the process of covering the walls beside their beds with posters and photographs. They had been talking as Harry pushed open the door but stopped abruptly the moment they saw him. Harry wondered whether they had been talking about him, then whether he was being paranoid. "Hi," he said, moving across to his own trunk and opening it.
"Hey, Harry," said Dean, who was putting on a pair of pajamas in the West Ham colors, "Good holiday?"
"Not bad," muttered Harry, as a true account of his holiday would have taken most of the night to relate and he could not face it. "You?"
"Yeah, it was OK," chuckled Dean. "Better than Seamusʹs, anyway, he was just telling me."
"Why, what happened, Seamus?" Neville asked as he placed his Mimbulus Mimbletonia on his bedside cabinet.
Seamus did not answer immediately; he was making rather a meal of ensuring that his poster of the Kenmare Kestrels Quidditch team was quite straight. Then he said, with his back still turned to Harry, "Me mam didnʹt want me to come back."
"What?" said Harry, pausing in the act of pulling off his robes.
"She didnʹt want me to come back to Hogwarts." Seamus turned away from his poster and pulled his own pajamas out of his trunk, still not looking at Harry.
"But ‐ why?" Harry knew that Seamusʹs mother was a witch but it took only a few minutes for him to put all the pieces of the puzzle into place.
Seamus did not answer until he had finished buttoning his pajamas, "Well," he said in a measured voice, "I suppose… because of you."
Neville took two steps back and let his wand snap into his hand, "What d'you mean," said Harry quietly, "Because of me?" His heart was beating rather fast. He felt vaguely as though something was closing in on him.
"Well," said Seamus again, still avoiding Harry's gaze, "She… er… well, itʹs not just you, itʹs Dumbledore, too…"
"She believes the Daily Prophet?" said Harry. "She thinks I'm a liar and Dumbledore's an old fool?"
Seamus looked up at him, meeting the emerald stare for the first time, and nodded hesitantly, and then more firmly as if making his mind up, "Yeah, something… exactly like that."
Mindless bunch of brain-dead sheep thought Harry bitterly as he turned his back on Seamus and took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. It was not working. He was sick of it. Harry Potter: Hero of the day one minute and scum of the earth the other twenty-three hours and fifty-nine minutes of it. Mrs. Finnigan had no idea, the stupid woman, he thought savagely.
"Look… what did happen that night when… you know, when… with Cedric and Hermione all?" Seamus sounded nervous and eager at the same time. Dean, who had been bending over his trunk trying to retrieve a slipper, went oddly still and Harry knew he was listening.
Harry whirled around, "The fuck, you asking me?" snapped Harry, "Read the Daily Prophet like your mother. You can read it all there! Tell you everything that you could possibly not need to know!"
"Don't you have a go at my mother!" Seamus snapped back
Harry's wand was suddenly in hand, "Tell you what," growled Harry, "I'll have a go at anyone who challenges my honor! I'll have a go at anyone that calls me a liar! I'll have a go at anyone I feel like having a go at!" The other three boys in the dorm suddenly realized that the temperature inside the tower had dropped remarkably. Sure enough ice crystals had formed, freezing from the walls, floor, and the nearest dresser, "So act like a man, or act your age and go to McGonagall and see if you can be moved!" Harry blinked, "You know what, screw this you can stay, I'm outta here!"
The truth was that the argument with Seamus had truly shaken him. It had never occurred to him just how many people saw him as exactly what the Daily Prophet made him out to be; lying and mentally unhinged. For a moment, he wondered how Dumbledore had faired, considering he had first lost his position as chief whatever on the Wizangamot and then lost his position amongst the International Confederation of Wizards. They were both in similar boats, but he could not afford to fight a war on three fronts at once: Voldemort, the Ministry, and Dumbledore. His list of enemies continued to grow, but the list of allies and friends seemed to grow shorter.
Harry wondered just how many more Seamus's were running around Hogwarts as he entered the flooded out-of-order bathroom on the second floor. At the end of his previous semester, the entry had been sealed and a complex ward scheme was applied by the goblins. As their champion, however, it took only a drop of his blood to unseal the wards and gain access to the Chamber of Secrets.
He descended into the bedrock beneath the castle to find that his home, from the Triwizard Tournament, was as he left it. He strolled through the wards and found Hermione's old room. A wave of his hand saw a blazing fire come to life in the hearth. Harry himself was asleep the moment his head hit the pillow.