Chapter Text
Thursday 1st September 1994
Harry drummed his fingers in irritation on the long wooden table in the Great Hall as the students all listened to the Sorting Hat’s new song.
“‘Power-hungry Slytherin loved those of great ambition.’ It’s a bit biased, don’t you think?” he grumbled. “The Sorting Hat made it sound like a bad thing to go to Slytherin, but there’s nothing wrong with being ambitious. Salazar wasn’t a bad man you know, he only wanted power to protect people. He cared a lot about the students – it’s just that he disagreed with the other Founders about the best way to go about keeping them safe. Some might say he made some bad choices, but he was acting out of the best possible motives.”
“You’re a bit defensive of Slytherin for someone who’s actually a Gryffindor, Potter,” teased Thomas, from across the table.
“I know why, too! Me mam read Lockhart’s new book,” Finnegan said. “Secret’s out, Potter, not that it was much of a secret before. Everyone knows you’re the Heir of Slytherin, now! But don’t worry mate, we know you’re a good bloke and we won’t give you a hard time about it.”
“Much,” added Thomas, with a wink.
“Ackerley, Stewart!” Professor McGonagall called out in the background, and the first trembling, rain-soaked student walked up to be Sorted.
“No-one’s going to believe me anymore about me not being the Heir now, are they?” Harry said, slumping in his chair with a sigh.
“Ravenclaw!” shouted the Hat, eliciting loud applause.
Hermione patted Harry reassuringly on the shoulder. “Probably not, no. But we don’t mind, honestly. Smith’s related to Hufflepuff, and he doesn’t have any special badger powers! It’s just family. Besides, I still think half of the students at Hogwarts are probably related to one of the Founders – it’s such an insular and small community it’s inevitable. You were just lucky in getting to be a Parselmouth – probably just the luck of the draw in getting good genes, or something. Some Houses have talents running in their families; that’s a known fact.”
“Baddock, Malcolm!”
“Slytherin!”
The twin Weasleys hissed loudly in disapproval at the first Slytherin to be Sorted. Harry tutted disapprovingly at them (which they didn’t even notice, being seated much further down the table) and gave Baddock a pointedly polite clap. On the other side of the Hall the Slytherin table cheered enthusiastically for their first new member.
“Yeah, lucky, that’s me,” huffed Harry. “Still, I do like being able to talk to Storm. And it was handy in the Chamber of Secrets. I might not have saved… been able to help save people without that.” Reminded of his pet, he fished Storm out of the satchel at his feet.
“Are we there yet?” Storm asked sleepily, then wound his way up Harry’s arm to his shoulders. “Oh, yess, I sssee we are. Warm me.” He burrowed into the neckline of Harry’s robe to coil around his bare neck, seeking out Harry’s body warmth on the cold, stormy night. With the enchantments on the ceiling of the Great Hall displaying the weather outside as if the roof was made of glass it seemed less cosy inside than usual despite them all being quite dry (thanks to the judicious application of a few spells cast on each other earlier). The rain pounded down on the roof with a fierce though muted drumming, and the cloudy night sky was lit up by occasional dramatic flashes of lightning which were followed by menacing rumbles of thunder.
“Branstone, Eleanor!”
“Hufflepuff!”
The young girl who’d just been sorted trotted eagerly over to the welcoming Hufflepuff table. Half the students there had as usual chosen to affix House-proud yellow or black ribbons or yellow canary feathers to their pointed black hats, and many of the girls wore yellow hair ribbons. Branstone’s long, loose brown hair was drenched despite the meagre protection of her hat, dripping onto her soggy black work robes and the floor. Harry saw some older students – prefects no doubt since Diggory was among them – making sure she and the next first-year Hufflepuff who scurried over both had their robes and hair all magically dried out before they settled down at the table.
“Creevey, Dennis!”
Colin’s brother was the tiniest first-year yet, Harry thought. The mousey-haired boy was soaking wet and wrapped up in Hagrid’s enormous moleskin overcoat which dragged on the ground as he walked up to the Hat, looking incredibly excited.
“Gryffindor!”
The newest Gryffindor scurried over to his brother to a chorus of cheers, stumbling slightly as he got caught up in Hagrid’s coat, calling in shrill excitement as he approached about how he’d fallen in the lake and had gotten pushed back into his boat by something that his brother eagerly explained must have been the giant squid.
“Dobbs, Emma!”
“Do you know who got the Head Girl position this year?” Harry asked in general enquiry of everyone around him, ignoring the Sorting for a while now that Colin’s brother had been done. “I heard from Peregrine that he didn’t get Head Boy – it went to a Ravenclaw, Marcus Turner.”
“No idea,” Neville said, shaking his head.
“Lavender might know,” volunteered Hermione. “She has a cousin of some degree who’s starting seventh year who was hoping to get the spot. Do you want me to ask her?”
“If you don’t mind. I’m just curious.”
Hermione passed a note down the table to Brown, who got out a quill to scribble a reply, then passed it back, waving cheerily to them.
“Lavender’s cousin didn’t get it – Tamsin Applebee’s the Head Girl,” Hermione read out. “She’s a Chaser on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, and Lavender says she’s a sweet girl. Though it must be admitted that she says that about a lot of people.”
“Is she the team Captain?” asked Neville.
“No, that’s still Diggory as far as I know,” Harry said.
They all applauded absent-mindedly as “McDonald, Natalie” joined the Gryffindor table. She was greeted by Ron as she sat down, who was curious to ask whether or not she was related to “that bloke who owns all those restaurants”.
“Prewett, Mafalda!”
“Oh, it’s Mafalda’s turn!” Harry said, perking up with interest.
“Slytherin!”
Hermione sighed in disappointment. “Oh, that’s a shame. Not that there’s anything wrong with Slytherin, Harry, don’t make that face at me. I mean it’s a shame that she won’t get to be with her family. Where is Ginny, anyway?”
Mafalda seemed a little anxious about her Sorting too, glancing wistfully over at the boisterous Gryffindor table, but she seemed heartened by seeing the Weasley twin’s histrionic sobs at their loss of her to another House, and Harry’s smiling applause at her Sorting. She trotted off to the Slytherin table, which seemed to welcome her heartily (relative to their restrained standards of courtesy).
She was followed to Slytherin by Graham Pritchard, and then there were just a few more students left to Sort before the feast began, ending with Zabini, Maria (who went to Ravenclaw).
Hermione was thoroughly distracted during dinner, chatting worriedly with Nearly Headless Nick about a disruption in the kitchen by Peeves that had terrified the house-elves. She picked at the food on her golden plate and ignored Ron’s attempts to lure her to eat by playfully wafting desserts under her nose.
Dumbledore’s announcements started with the usual warnings. “The Forbidden Forest, as always, is out-of-bounds. As is Hogsmeade to all first and second-year students. I am pleased to announce, however, that your recreational opportunities have been officially expanded. For last year’s ‘club room’ will now be made a permanent fixture of Hogwarts!”
That news got a happy round of cheers across the Great Hall.
“Professor Slughorn has kindly volunteered to be the supervising teacher for the club room – leaders of pre-existing clubs should see him tomorrow, before or after the day’s classes, to discuss meeting scheduling.”
Slughorn waved jovially to the crowd from the staff table, before folding his hands contentedly over his corpulent belly that strained the gold buttons on his maroon silk waistcoat after the evening’s feasting.
“Any new clubs and study groups will need to work around reserved times,” continued Dumbledore. “Please consult the new noticeboard just inside the club room door from Saturday onwards for details. The room itself has been enlarged, with an archway added through to an adjoining previously empty classroom, and many furnishings have been added including some desks and sofas.”
That announcement went down smoothly, however, the Headmaster’s shift to the sad news that the inter-house Quidditch Cup would be cancelled was unexpected and a tremendous shock to all the Gryffindor Quidditch team members whose jaws gaped – they looked too appalled to even speak.
Dumbledore had just started to announce the new event that would be on that year instead – presumably the Triwizard Tournament that Draco had told Harry and his friends about – when he was interrupted mid-sentence by the dramatic arrival of their new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Moody. The scarred new professor clomped his way to the staff table with a backdrop of booming thunder, while flashes of lightning streaked across the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall and the majority of the hall watched his silent procession in wary silence.
“I suspect this will not be your year for breaking your run of having Defence teachers attack you, Harry,” whispered Neville, eyes wide with fear at the man’s intimidating visage.
“That’s Alastor Moody,” Harry whispered back. “I’ve met him already. Sirius said he used to be an Auror, but he’s retired now. Fingers crossed he breaks the pattern, surely being an Auror will help me there. But... well… I’m not sure this will be my year either. He’s an odd bloke.”
After a very unimpressive patter of token applause for their unnerving new teacher, Dumbledore explained how Hogwarts would be hosting the Triwizard Tournament, with students from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang arriving in October. He promised that no champion would find themselves in mortal danger, unlike in past Tournaments which had been discontinued due to the rising death toll.
“Death toll?” Hermione whispered, looking alarmed.
Harry shuddered. “Normal schools don’t need to reassure you that no-one will die during an inter-school sports competition. Hogwarts is crazy sometimes.”
“A thousand Galleons! I’m going for it!” vowed Ron excitedly, on her other side.
“Are you going to enter, Harry?” Neville asked, looking thoughtful.
“Did you not hear the bit about the death toll?” Hermione asked incredulously. She was in a minority for being wary about the competition, however, and the Gryffindor table, at least, was abuzz with excited whispers.
Harry felt a little relieved to hear there would be an age limit imposed, with no students under seventeen allowed to enter, but Ron was appalled. “No Quidditch! And no Tournament either?! This is unbelievable. I was supposed to be Keeper this year! Now I can’t even enter the stupid Tournament! I need that money… we need that money!”
Further down the table, his twin brothers could be glimpsed fuming even more angrily, having only missed the age cut-off by a handful of months.
“…I hope you will give your whole-hearted support to the Hogwarts champion when he or she is selected,” Dumbledore concluded. “Now, I know it is late, so before you all head off to bed we shall conclude with two short songs performed by our ‘Frog Choir’, led by Professor Flitwick in their maiden performance. First, we have an adaption of Celestina Warbeck’s ‘Toil and Trouble’, which will be followed by the school song. If you are interested in joining the school choir, please meet at ten on Saturday morning in the club room for auditions. Let us give them a welcoming round of applause as they gather!”
The students clapped politely as a scattering of students left all four House tables to make their way down the aisles to gather in front of the teachers’ table. There were mostly Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs in the choir, but a few students joined them from the other two Houses.
They choir did a great job and looked thrilled at the enthusiastic applause at the end of their a cappella songs, and their audience (with a few rare exceptions like the Weasley twins) were just as excited to have the school song be set to an actual melody at last.
“Oh, that was so much better than last year,” Hermione said approvingly, as she clapped. “I never understood why Dumbledore thought letting everyone pick their own tune was a good idea. I guess he thought it was funny, but it wasn’t. It was just a chaotic din.”
“Definitely,” agreed Harry, rising from the table as everyone started heading up towards their dorms in a slow shuffling queue down the aisles and into the hallways. “I still remember the horrible shock that was first year’s school song. It was nice to see all the Houses singing together too, wasn’t it? Did you know Daphne was in the choir? I didn’t know!”
“It was a surprise to me too,” Hermione said.
“I knew,” said Neville. “She mentioned the practices once – she said it is a good opportunity to build relationships across the House boundaries. Also, she likes singing.”
One of the Weasley twins came up to them while they chatted, pushing through the tide going the other way. “Say Potter, have you seen Ginny? Did you talk to her, or did you hear what upset her? I heard she left the table in tears.”
“Oh! Sorry, no, nothing to do with me. I haven’t seen her since the train, actually.”
The ginger-haired twin huffed in frustration.
“Do you want me to check on her?” asked Hermione. “Since you can’t get into the girls’ dorm?”
“If you don’t mind. Tell her I was asking after her – Fred, that is – and let her know that if she is upset about me planning to try and get in the Triwizard Tournament even though I won’t be old enough, well… Tell her that the money’s good and that I would of course be very careful not to get hurt. Or… if it’s something else that has upset her – like if someone gave her a hard time about dad – will you find out for us? Things have been hard, lately, and I think she is feeling the strain,” he said, looking pensive.
“I’ll tell her,” Hermione promised, and he shook her hand in thanks before heading back to his friends.
“Poor thing,” she added, once he was out of earshot. “She must be scared she’ll lose her brother. I don’t think she needs to worry – Dumbledore won’t let anyone underage enter the competition, he made that quite clear.”
“Theoretically he keeps the twins out of the Forbidden Forest,” Harry pointed out.
“Ah. Good point,” Hermione conceded, with a nod.
The crowd of students thinned out as the Houses split off, and the Gryffindors headed towards Gryffindor Tower.
Colin Creevey dragged his brother Dennis over to where Harry and his friends were walking and gave a little bow of greeting. “Hello again, Harry!” he said excitedly. “Isn’t it great that Dennis got into Gryffindor?!”
Harry tipped his pointed hat in greeting, giving a short nod as he did so. “It is indeed. Welcome to Gryffindor, Creevey,” he said politely to Dennis.
“Hello! It’s fabulous to be here!” the youngest Creevey said, grinning toothily, and copying his brother’s bow, which earnt him another nod from Harry. “Say, Colin, isn’t he going to bow back?”
“Oh no, he outranks us, remember? Being the Heir of one of the old Noble families!” explained Colin.
“I’m actually now also the Heir to the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, as well,” added Harry.
“-And Slytherin!” added Finnegan, from behind them.
Harry shrugged. “Yes, I suppose. So really the bow should be a bit lower, technically.”
“Like this?” Colin asked, putting his right hand across his chest as he tried a deeper bow.
“Is this new? When did that happen, you being Heir of the Black family?” asked Hermione, turning to Harry. “Is there a new family connection you’ve uncovered in your family tree? Greg won’t tell me what’s in mine – he keeps saying I have to wait for my birthday.”
“Yes, that bow is better,” Harry said to the Creeveys, before answering Hermione. “It was during the holidays – Sirius made me his Heir, due to the connection through my paternal grandmother. He didn’t want it to be Draco who’s the other best candidate, as he’s not keen on the Malfoys.”
Hermione nodded approvingly.
“The Black family portraits love Harry,” volunteered Neville, with a teasing smile for Harry.
Dennis tried a deeper bow like his brother had, and as Harry was correcting him on the importance of keeping a straight back while doing so. He also lectured about how bowing deeply was really only important when first meeting someone who was very traditional, or at a dance or formal occasion, and shallower bows or covert nods of the head or tipping one’s hat would usually suffice at other times. Professor McGonagall suddenly hove into view. She looked furious.
“What in Merlin’s name do you think you are doing, Mr. Potter?! Mr. Creevey!”
“Oh, ah, just a quick etiquette lesson,” Harry said, with an apologetic nod. “Was I holding people up? I didn’t mean to. Sorry.”
She seemed relatively content with Colin’s chastened brief and instant apology, but she did not look at all happy with Harry’s response – her mouth got even thinner, and her eyes narrower. “You are teaching the Creeveys to bow to you, Potter. That is not acceptable behaviour here at Hogwarts – you are not the superior to Muggle-borns or anyone else because of your blood status! Ten points from Gryffindor, and it would be more if our House had earnt more but that is all we have accumulated to lose thus far!”
“Sorry, professor. I was just teaching them about the different kinds of bows, professor. Just the etiquette, for formal occasions. I’m not being a blood purist or anything!” Harry said defensively.
“That is precisely what you were being. A word in private, I think,” she said, pointing imperiously towards a nearby classroom door. Harry slunk inside obediently, shoulders hunched in response to the weighty stares of all his classmates as they watched him being dressed down by their Head of House.
“I am deeply disappointed in you, Mr. Potter,” McGonagall said, the instant the door had closed behind them. “To think that I should have to give this lecture to you! To some of my first-year pure-bloods, perhaps, but you are in fourth year now, and should know better!”
“I’m not a blood purist, honestly I’m not. Hermione and all the other Muggle-borns are just as good as I am, I know that,” Harry reassured her earnestly. “I only follow the etiquette, and I usually keep it quiet, sorry. I don’t promote the beliefs.”
McGonagall shook her head, her mouth in a thin angry line. “No, you are acting exactly like a blood purist, Potter, and you are not just tolerating but actively promoting those beliefs. Every time you do something like scurry to greet someone from an ‘Ancient’ family first when you enter a room because they rank above you in precedence, and every time you demand or expect that a Muggle-born should bow more deeply to you because the Potters are considered a ‘Noble’ family, you reinforce those prejudices. You tell the world with your obsolescent greetings that you think you are better – or more lowly – than someone else just because of who your family is. That you deserve respect because of the family you were born into – as if that is some great accomplishment of yours worthy of esteem, and not simply a matter of luck.
“Is that the kind of lesson you really want the Creeveys to learn? That they should grovel before pure-bloods, and know their place? Is that being truly welcoming of newcomers to our world?”
Harry’s face crumpled in regret at the thought the Creeveys might have taken his lesson that way. “I’m sorry, professor! I was just trying to help them fit in. Learn the customs, so they’d know what to expect and could be polite to people. I wasn’t trying to be insulting!”
Professor McGonagall’s face softened as she laid a compassionate hand on his shoulder. “Mr. Potter, I am sure you meant well, but what you just taught them is that Muggle-borns are lesser. That their rank is below that of the old pure-blood families. I won’t tolerate that kind of bigotry at Hogwarts. Not all customs are worth preserving purely for the sake of ‘tradition’. Who convinced you such a thing was a necessary?”
“Pansy told me it was important years ago,” he confessed, “and it seemed like a good idea. To be courteous to everyone and try and fit in. She wasn’t the only one, but I guess she brought it up first. Please don’t get her in trouble, though. It was years ago, and she didn’t mean any harm, and she did tell me I shouldn’t do it at Hogwarts. I just forgot.”
“Why would you give her opinion so much weight, when plenty of your other friends like Longbottom and Weasley don’t follow all those bigoted old-fashioned traditions?”
“Well, she’s family. Of course I should listen to her,” Harry explained. It was obvious, really, but his professor didn’t seem to find it so.
“That’s not a good enough reason at all, Mr. Potter. Other students look up to you, and you must learn to set a good example! I’m afraid to say you and the elder Mr. Creevey will both be serving detention with me on Saturday. Two hours of writing lines – ‘I am no better, and no worse, than anyone else at Hogwarts just because of who my family is. We are all witches and wizards here, and of equal rank. We may all mix with whomsoever we choose. I will not promulgate the doctrines of blood purity.’ I hope it will remind you of what your parents fought and died for,” she finished in stern rebuke.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, cowed and slightly ashamed.
“We are not tolerant here at Hogwarts of prejudice on the basis of rank, Mr. Potter. All students are to be regarded as equal, regardless of family status, blood heritage, or respective level of magical talents. If I hear one more word of you boasting about being the Heir of Slytherin and demanding special treatment because of that, that will be just the start – you will be in detention for months,” she added, wagging her finger at him warningly.
“Yes, ma’am. I mean, no ma’am, I won’t.”
She swept off with a swirl of robes to rejoin her place escorting the first-year Gryffindors up to their dorm, and presumably to talk with the Creeveys as well.
Harry was freed to slink out of the classroom and back to his shocked friends, ashamed and thoughtful. He hadn’t questioned the rules of etiquette, he’d just learnt them, trying to make Pansy and all his new friends happy that he was striving to fit in. He still didn’t really see a big problem with bowing in general, but he did get the painful point that it was sometimes very tied in with beliefs about blood purity.
-000-
Early the next morning Harry was pounced upon by Hermione and Lavender Brown the instant he emerged with Neville into the Common Room.
“At last! We’ve been waiting for you to leave your dorm,” Hermione said to him with relief, which Harry thought was a bit unfair as it was still hours before Friday’s classes would start. He wondered if she was going to tell him off about his bowing lesson last night and subsequent detention, but thankfully another matter had her thoroughly distracted for the time being.
“Eloise needs your help,” Brown confided in a whisper. “She’s hexed her nose off.”
“What? How? What do you mean?” Harry said, very confused. “Where is she?”
“She had some awful pimples, and she tried to get rid of them this morning by hexing them off! No nose. It has fallen off – like she Splinched it.”
“Oh Merlin! Is it bleeding? Has she still got her nose?”
“No, it’s not bleeding, and yes, Midgen’s got her nose,” Hermione answered. “Separate from the rest of her, but she has it.”
“She refuses to come down or to see Madam Pomfrey, she is just so embarrassed,” Brown explained. “She wants to know if you can help her, without anyone seeing.”
Harry blinked, and said slowly, “I don’t know, that sounds tricky, and while I’ve heard of the spells to reverse Splinching, I’ve never practised them. I think she should go to the Hospital Wing.”
“She is really mortified to think that anyone might see her like this, though. She has been crying – she is a mess. Are you sure you won’t help?” wheedled Brown.
“I wrote down the spell Midgen used,” Hermione said, “and the wand movements.”
She passed over a slip of parchment to Harry. “I thought it might help.”
Harry looked at it and frowned. “Well, this was a terrible spell she chose, no wonder it went wrong. This is a spot-remover spell for cleaning and restoring marble. I actually read about it recently in a book on enchanted statuary and old stonework. It gets rid of blemishes, but I suspect it’s only intended for statues and balustrades. I doubt you should use it on your face. I’m not even going to try reversing that – too much could go wrong.” He’d been planning to use the spell in his ongoing efforts to clean up the Chamber of Secrets and thought it might help clean Ambrosius’ mosaic (though he was worried it might be too powerful a spell for the tiny glass-like tiles), or at least some of the tougher statues.
“Oh. That’s fair enough,” Hermione said.
“Poor Eloise,” sighed Lavender. “I suppose she will have to just hide her face on the way to the Hospital Wing.”
“Sorry,” Harry apologised. “Tell her to use Boil Cure Potion next time – it’s much safer and more effective. I don’t have any in stock, but if she can help out with the ingredients, I’d be happy to brew some when I have time if she’s not a confident Potioneer. She should remember it’s topical – you don’t drink it.”
“Undiluted Bubotuber pus is an excellent remedy for spots as well,” piped up Neville. “It has to be applied while it is fresh, though.”
The girls hustled off to break the bad news to Midgen, who emerged with her pointed hat pulled low over her face, surrounded by an escort of all her female dormmates as she was hurried off to see Madam Pomfrey.
-000-
The Weasley twins sat with Harry and his friends at breakfast, to gather gossip about their sister and share what they’d learnt about how Susan Bones had managed to return to Hogwarts despite being infected with lycanthropy.
Hermione reported in with her news first. “Ginny’s not upset about the Tournament – the Headmaster promised it would be safe and for good or ill she has faith in that, and wishes you luck, Fred.”
He nodded, but his freckled face still looked grave rather than resuming its typical cheerful expression they were all more accustomed to seeing. “So, what is it then? Is she worried about dad, or Bill?”
“No – it’s not family stuff at all, though no doubt that’s not helping her stress levels,” Hermione said. “She ran off from the feast because some kids were giving her a hard time about the Battles with the Basilisk book. They didn’t believe her about the spirit in the book being You-Know-Who, not Grindelwald’s son, and they were teasing her about being so stupid as to keep writing in a cursed book without telling anyone. Especially given she should know better since spotting things like that is literally her father’s job… or was. You know, Lockhart’s book isn’t very kind to her – pointing out how dangerous it is for students not to learn about the Dark Arts, and how at risk even young pure-bloods can be if left untaught of the world’s dangers – gullible and foolish in their ignorance. It really had a bit of a different style to his other books, don’t you think, Harry?”
Harry twitched guiltily. “Oh, ah, yes. A bit.” He hadn’t thought about the effect Lockhart’s – Voldemort’s – editorial changes might have had on Ginny. “He changed quite a few things in his later drafts. Some at the last minute. I had nothing to do with those, by the way. I think he didn’t want to risk offending… You-Know-Who. By telling secrets or being insulting to him.”
“I haven’t read the book yet,” said Fred Weasley. “His others were such rubbish that I didn’t bother.”
“Me either,” agreed his twin. “They were fun, but useless. It sounds like he changed a lot of details from what really happened, though. We should probably find out what.”
Hermione agreed that Lockhart had made changes but defended her hero on the grounds of “dramatic necessity” and “common sense”. She offered to lend her copy of the book to them since she’d read it twice already, and they gratefully accepted (Harry’s gifted copy to their mother having already been dispatched via owl late the previous night). They also weaselled out of her a couple of names of Ginny’s tormentors, with a concession that they wouldn’t do anything that would harm them.
After that was all sorted out, George Weasley asked, “So, did you want to hear about Susan Bones?”
They were all eager to hear the gossip, and he launched into the story, aided intermittently by his brother.
“She’s not a Hogwarts student any longer – werewolves aren’t allowed to come to Hogwarts. Professor Lupin only managed it because he hid what he was while he was a student. Frankly it’s impressive that no-one got in serious trouble for that.”
“He’s a good man, by the way,” added his twin. “Don’t believe what the Daily Prophet says about him.”
“We don’t,” promised Hermione.
“So, technically Bones is now a Durmstrang student, and is officially part of the contingent come to try their luck in the Triwizard Tournament.”
“She just happens to have arrived a couple of months early,” said Fred Weasley, smirking a little.
“It’s a loophole – Durmstrang allows magically talented young werewolves and vampires to enrol–”
“If their blood is ‘pure’ enough,” his brother interrupted, with a roll of his eyes.
“Under British law she still gets to use her wand until her lycanthropy is proven at the first full moon, which takes her halfway through September. After that it’s only a few more weeks until the Durmstrang Headmaster arrives with the visiting students. So, she’ll only need to be without her wand for a couple of weeks until she falls under their Headmaster’s jurisdiction and can wield it again. It’s a good joke, isn’t it! Nice to see old Dumbledore getting one past the Ministry like that.”
“I am very happy for her, but what about the problem that she is too young to have a chance of competing?” worried Neville.
“Technically, the other schools can bring whomever they like, it is simply that it’s not sensible to bring students too young to enter. Karkaroff – that’s their Headmaster – agreed to Dumbledore’s plan, which must have taken some smooth talking,” George Weasley said, sounding impressed.
“What about next year?” Harry asked.
“Bones is hoping her Aunt Amelia and Dumbledore will have changed some laws by then. May a lucky star shine on that plan. However… she said it can’t happen too fast,” said Fred Weasley.
“We can’t give in to terrorist attacks,” agreed his brother.
“Our dad said if the Ministry starts instantly changing laws in favour of werewolf rights, Fenrir and his ilk will think their strategy works – that if they infect enough people they’ll get everything they want. That it will lead to more attacks, not less.”
“It makes sense,” agreed Hermione, “but it’s horrible.”
“I agree, and Bones sort of does too. Though, she’s obviously pretty broken up about losing her cives class citizenship and wand rights, and maybe having to move overseas next year.”
“How is she physically?” asked Harry. “I know your dad isn’t even out of St. Mungo’s yet.”
“She was not nearly as hurt as dad or Bill – Auror Shacklebolt saved her from that fate, may he rest in peace. She got treated by Healer Obasi, who specialises in creature-induced injuries. She only had a few fine scratches on her back. Shallow, but enough to infect her, unfortunately. It is pretty much guaranteed she will be a werewolf, but you never know.”
Gryffindor prefects dropped off their timetables, and Hermione eagerly looked hers over right away, checking out the column for Friday first, to see what they’d be starting with that morning.
“History of Magic, DADA, and Charms before lunch,” she said, sounding excited. “Double Potions in the afternoon. Arithmancy on Monday – that’s not too long to wait!”
“Is there anything you are not looking forward to?” Neville asked, sounding amused.
Hermione bit her lip with her large front teeth as she pondered his question. “Astronomy,” she decided eventually. “Midnight on Tuesdays. It’s just too late at night – it messes up my sleep and makes keeping to a proper study schedule harder. I don’t think I want to take it at NEWT level. Or History of Magic, for that matter.”
“Anything with the Hufflepuffs, where we can catch up with Bones?” asked Neville, serving himself some extra sausages.
“Herbology on Monday and Wednesday mornings,” Hermione pronounced, after a quick skim of the timetable. “My Arithmancy class is with the Hufflepuffs, but she didn’t pick that elective.”
“Well, I’d better get going,” Harry said, arranging his cutlery in neat parallel lines on his plate – the sign that the house-elves could whisk his plate away whenever they were ready. “I have to check in with some people about Potter Watch before seeing Professor Slughorn – the junior group will need a new leader now Percy’s graduated.”
“Ooh! Can I join in with the senior group too this year, Harry?” Hermione pleaded.
“Sure, I guess. Maybe I should make them less based on year, and more on ability. What do you think?”
“That sounds great!” Hermione said, bouncing excitedly in her seat. “You could set exams to progress to the next group early! Have you worked out a curriculum for this year, yet?”
Harry chatted with her for a while about his nascent plans for new spells to cover from some of the books he’d been reading over the holidays, before she dashed off to talk to Professor Slughorn about reserving the club room for her monthly H.E.L.P. Society meetings. Harry wanted to make sure he had his group leaders lined up before talking to their Potions professor and decided to start by quickly checking in with Angelina Johnson. He knew the dark-skinned sixth-year a little from his brief foray into Quidditch as she’d been a Gryffindor Chaser for years now, but he knew her better these days as one of the senior group Potter Watch members.
He awkwardly explained to Johnson how she was actually his back-up choice to lead the junior Potter Watch group. “I was hoping you might agree to help out if Diggory doesn’t want to lead the group,” he said nervously. “I don’t know if he’ll want to… all things considered. You heard about that, right? He lost his dad in the attack at the World Cup. Anyway, I just think it would be polite to ask him first.”
“Yes, I read it in the paper. It’s alright if you keep me as a back-up. I would be honoured to help out with your club if you decide you need me,” Johnson promised. “Poor Diggory, losing his father like that.”
Johnson bowed her head for a moment, looking sad, before she continued. “If he wants the job of leading the junior group, it is all his, and if he wants me to help out as co-leader, or if he would rather I took over the job on my own instead, that would be alright too. Whatever he prefers is fine by me – I don’t mind either way. Oh, and I could also help you as an extra tutor for the middle group, if you don’t need me for the juniors.”
“Thank you,” murmured Harry, with relief. “That’s a great idea!”
That went well, he thought happily. Even better than I’d hoped.
He headed off to the Slytherin table next. Hopefully Peregrine Derrick would be on board to tutor again, even though it was his NEWT year. He said brief hellos to all his Slytherin friends on his way past them to find Peregrine. Millicent looked very grumpy that morning as she glared at her plate of bacon and toast like it had personally offended her somehow but perked up and looked thoughtful at Harry’s casual cheery greetings to them all as he breezed past.
With only a short consultation required to settle things, Harry quickly confirmed that Peregrine was more than happy to keep leading the senior group meetings twice a month. He then headed towards the Hufflepuff table. On his way past the younger Slytherins at the end of the table, Harry spotted Mafalda Prewett and stopped to greet her.
“Good morning, Mafalda,” he said politely. “Congratulations on getting Sorted into Slytherin, I am sure you’ll make your new House proud.”
“Thank you, Harold!” she said, beaming happily. As he left, Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye that she was subtly besieged by other tiny first-year Slytherins after that, all leaning in to gossip quietly with her.
Harry didn’t see Bones at the Hufflepuff table, and Macmillan whispered to him conspiratorially that she’d left breakfast early with her friends – she’d found everyone’s stares too hard to bear.
Diggory was still there, however, slowly finishing off a bowl of porridge. Diggory’s friends glared warningly at Harry as he approached – one of them, a brown-haired tall boy, pushed away from the table to intercept him in the aisle.
“He doesn’t want to talk about it,” the burly senior warned in a deep voice, blocking Harry’s way forward.
“Umm…” Harry started hesitantly. “I just wanted to offer my condolences. I totally understand he wouldn’t want to talk about… the attack at the World Cup. I wasn’t going to ask him about it, I promise.”
“Thank you. I will pass your message on to him later,” the Hufflepuff said, softening slightly as the warning glare left his eyes.
“Also, could you ask him if he’d like to be the group leader for the junior Potter Watch group this year? He doesn’t have to – Johnson from Gryffindor says she’s happy to do it if he’s not interested, or they can work together. Whatever he wants. I just thought… maybe he would like to stay busy. He’s great with young kids – being a prefect – and good at all his spells. I don’t know,” Harry said, scrubbing at the back of his neck with one hand. “Maybe it was a dumb idea. Please let him know he really doesn’t have to if he doesn’t want to.”
“It’s a kind thought. I will let him know, and I will have someone get a message back to you if he still isn’t ready to talk to anyone,” the boy promised.
Harry caught Diggory’s eye for a moment as he departed and nodded to him in brief wordless sympathy. Diggory smiled wanly back at him, then turned back to his porridge.
While he kept his face calm, Harry castigated himself silently. He’d thought it would be a good idea to invite Diggory to help out in the defence group, but maybe it had actually been a dreadful plan, and not at all well thought through. He should have talked it over with someone else first and gotten a second opinion. The badgers were rallying around their friend Diggory to ward off unwanted enquiries and shallow offerings of sympathy – if the socially savvy house good at friendship didn’t want Diggory bothered, it must be inappropriate. At least in this particular case. Harry didn’t want to be a bother, however, he feared that despite his good intentions that was exactly what he’d been.