Chapter Text
It is in our nature to resent changes brought on by force.
—Neville Longbottom
Harry's first week at Hogwarts Post Dumbledorem was interesting. In a manner of speaking.
It wasn't the kind of interesting that usually applied to him during the school term. There were no Death Eaters leaping out of the shadows to abduct him, no magical artefacts enslaving him, and even a distinct lack of deadly, but completely controlled creatures around the school was noted by its inhabitants. In fact, one might almost go as far as to call Harry's first week back at Hogwarts fairly uneventful.
One would, of course, be wrong.
shade by shade
The sorting went by quickly. In all his time at Hogwarts Harry had never payed much attention to it—when he hadn't outright missed it, that was—but hard to miss how short the line of stumbling, wide-eyed first years was this year. There were only seven of them, three Ravenclaws, three Hufflepuffs and one unlucky Slytherin who looked like he might burst into tears any moment.
The low numbers shouldn't have come as much as a surprise, it was after all different to let your child continue its education in a known environment than to send it off into the dangerous unknown. Still, Harry should have probably felt a bit insulted on behalf of his house that none of the first years had been sorted into Gryffindor, but he just didn't have the heart to do it. Not when an empty dorm meant more room for the rest of them, less security risks and less weaknesses they would have to protect.
Let the other houses worry about their little ones. His plate was full enough as it was.
Which was of course a metaphor, considering his plate was still very much empty, as his grumbling stomach so thoughtfully reminded him. Apparently McGonagall had decided to switch up Dumbledore's usual routine. Perhaps because she thought that a bunch of starving teenagers were more likely to pay attention to her than a bunch of sleepy ones. Or maybe she had noticed the way Ron kept eye-balling the guards at the door and had decided to take action now, in favour of having to clean up the bloodbath later.
Smart woman, that one.
Making a mental note to talk with Ron about his paranoia issues getting out of hand again, Harry put his chin on the top of his folded hands and prepared himself for a long lecture on an empty stomach. With any luck, at least there would be pleasant news.
There weren't.
"Welcome," the headmistress repeated her words from earlier, sounding just as strong as she had then. "Some of you I am greeting for the first time today and most I am simply welcoming back for yet another year at Hogwarts."
Harry had to hand it to his transfiguration professor—or was that ex-professor now?—, she did an admirable job in the late headmaster's place. She didn't have Dumbledore's twinkling eyes and jovial smile, but he honestly didn't mind it as much as he thought he would. A joyous expression would have looked out of place in these somber times anyways. No, headmistress' McGonagall's stern face and sharp eyes were much more fitting for what this year would bring. And maybe under her strict hand, a semblance of the Hogwarts he'd come to love would prevail whichever end there was to come.
Pushing away those morbid thoughts that were more often on his mind than he would have liked, Harry forced himself to pay attention to McGonagall's speech again. It didn't have anything to do with the evil eye Hermione kept sending him. Absolutely not. It wasn't like she knew he had drifted off again, the girl was brilliant but she wasn't a mind reader.
Thank Merlin for small mercies.
"The last school year ended on a difficult note-"
It took all of Harry's considerable self-control, which's existence had been proven by the fact that—against all odds, as Ron would later claim—he did not murder a certain defence teacher with a fanatical love for the colour pink, to not snort derisively at those words.
A group of Death Eaters had successfully broken through the impenetrable wards Hogwarts was famous for and four people had been killed, one of them being the famed 'leader of the light' Albus Dumbledore, defeater of the Dark Lord Grindelwald. 'A difficult note' simply didn't cut it. It was a miracle there hadn't been more causalities among the students as it was. In fact, Ron had been unbearable for nearly a week afterwards because he'd predicted no less then ten deaths and failed to figure out where he'd miscalculated.
"-and, as most of you are no doubt aware, the political climate is somewhat- precarious at the moment-"
Even from all the way across the Great Hall Harry could see the struggle in the woman's eyes, the way she fumbled—or as close to fumbling as Minerva McGonagall ever got—for the right words to both, ensure they understood the gravity of the situation and avoid unnecessarily frightening the younger students. It was no doubt a tricky balance to maintain.
"-certain measures have to be taken that you, especially the older students, might fight unpleasant, unnecessary and perhaps even unjust. I assure you however that they are none of these things and that we are doing our best to give you as much freedom and normalcy as the circumstances allow. Please keep in mind that these rules are enforced to guarantee your own safety as well as everybody else's-"
Those words were more than enough to earn the headmistress Harry's utter and complete attention. Certain measures they might find unpleasant? He'd heard this kind of talk before. As a matter of fact, a very similar conservation had let to his first violent interaction with a particular stubborn Order member by the name of Nathan Grace. The problem with those pretty words McGonagall was currently sprouting was that they could be used to justify restrictions on even the most basic of human rights.
For their own safety, of course.
Harry had learned to hate those words even more than he'd hated the Greater Good Dumbledore was so fond of making sacrifices for. At least the Greater Good was usually used as a justification to put him into harm's way—which wasn't good per say but it left him with an enemy to fight—whereas his own safety was the kind of argumentation that lead to being locked away in a bunker or drugged out of his mind.
If it came down to it, there was no question which of the two options Harry preferred.
"The rules on what is and isn't allowed will be enforced stricter than you may be used to. Your luggage is being searched as we speak. Should anything of concern be found, the students in question will be called to their Head of House to explain themselves," the headmistress began.
Harry narrowed his eyes and exchanged a glance of silent understanding with the other DA members. It seemed they would get personally acquainted with the people in charge of this search very soon.
"A new curfew has also been set. For first through fourth year the new curfew from now on will be eight o'clock. Fifth year and above are expected to stay in their respective common room by half past nine."
Displeased murmurs rose at that announcement. It didn't matter which house they belonged to or how old they were, none of them appreciated this particular change. As nice and cosy as the common rooms might be, the entertainment they offered was limited.
"Furthermore you will not be allowed to leave the castle grounds for any reasons. And before anybody asks, the Forbidden Forest may technically count as part of the grounds but remains, as the name implies, forbidden. In accordance to this, all Hogsmeade visits have been cancelled until further notice."
"What?" Lavender cried with such disbelief that Harry was tempted to roll his eyes.
When even he could see the sense in that last rule, shouldn't everyone else understand what a risk having a priorly set date for most students to leave the castle would be?
Apparently not, because Lavender's cry of protest was echoed all around the hall. McGonagall had to clear her throat three times before she could make herself be heard over the noise—though the sparks from one of the unnamed Order member's wand might have had something to do with it as well.
The additional announcement that their owl post would be searched for curses, dangerous content and other threat's to Hogwarts' security as well did little to calm the agitated students down.
All in all though, the new rules were not as terrible as Harry had half feared, half expected them to be. Most of them could even be called moderately justified and sensible. And terribly inconvenient, but they would just have to work around that. It was what they'd been doing since their first year after all.
"As you may have already noticed, Hogwarts has employed several trained witches and wizards to ensure your protection. You can recognise them by their black attire and the small insignia of a flame on their left upper arm," at this Professor McGonagall made a vague gesture in the direction of the four guards at the entrance.
"You may encounter them during their patrols in the hallways or when you leave the castle. They may also assist the professors during lessons, should any help be required. Please note that their main job is to keep you save. As such they have the authority ask you to hand your wand over, to search your person or your dorm room and to punish you, should you purposefully disobey them. They will answer any attack on their person or in their vicinity with the required force. If you have any complains on their treatment of you, you are of course to come to one of your professors any time. At the same time if you ever find yourself encountering any trouble or believe your life to be in danger, do not be afraid to ask for their help. If you have any further questions, your Head of House will be at your disposal."
"Am I the only one who's being uncomfortably reminded of Umbitch's Inquisitorial Squad?" Seamus hissed from between clenched teeth, otherwise making a remarkable effort to keep his outrage from showing on his face.
Harry shook his head minutely, though Hermione's stony expression and the way Ginny's grip on her knife tightened until her knuckles were almost white really was an answer in itself.
As it was Harry knew better to start an uprising before the welcome speech had even been finished, as tempting as that thought may be. Besides who knew? Maybe those guards would prove themselves to be capable, virtuous fighters of justice and a great asset in the coming war.
One could always hope.
So instead Harry forced himself to accept McGonagall's words without comment and let none of his doubts regarding the 'improved wards' and other pointless blabber show on his face. Now was not the time for criticism, constructive or otherwise. The other students were restless enough as it was, some of the Slytherins and younger Gryffindors looked downright mutinous and the only thing worse than accepting the new restrictions would be the chaos that fighting them would inevitably lead to.
No, he wouldn't oppose these rules, not when he could see the logic in some of them and acknowledge the dubious necessity of the others. As for the guards, they had the potential to become either a great asset or a great hindrance. For now, he would watch them, observe their actions and reactions, and only then would he make a decision.
There was no time to explain his conclusions to his friends, but it didn't matter. They followed his lead without question—or at least without demanding answers at this very second—, their countenance dissatisfied but resigned.
On the bright side McGonagall had reached the end of her speech at last, after introducing the new additions at the staff table of course. The impossible tall, lanky male with the bald head to her right was revealed to be the new defence teacher Callander Edwin. Harry refused to pass an immediate judgment—though his chosen position certainly spoke against him—but at the very least they could be absolutely sure that Riddle wasn't growing out of the back of this guy's head.
Dean, Parvati and Neville of all people were already taking bets on how long this one was going to last and what would lead to his no doubt gruesome end. 'Attacking Harry' being—as usual—the overall favourite.
Seated directly next to The Dead Man Teaching was Julius Campbell, a name that had immediately caused several alarm bells in Harry's head to go off. The man had a round face, soft, brown locks and a slight belly that made him appear more like a jolly neighbour or a child's favourite uncle than the diligent fighter he truly was.
Until this day Harry had never actually met the man but while his face might have been unfamiliar his name was not. The general populace might be aware of it, but Harry had been present at enough Order meetings and spied on even more to know just how crucial Campbell's abilities had been during the majority of the Order's missions. He was one of the driving forces of Riddle's opposition, and the mere fact that the Dark Lord in question didn't even know it proved just how capable Campbell really was.
Which of course begged the question of why exactly Campbell was here, at Hogwarts, apparently teaching Muggle Studies, instead of continuing his efforts to win the war from the shadows. One did not need Ron's keen sense of paranoia to realise that there was something not quite right with the Order putting one of their strongest fighters essentially out of commission. And considering all the attempts Moody had survived on his life and Kingsley's quick rise through the Auror ranks, Harry was understandably reluctant to believe that every member of the Order was a completely useless moron.
The last of the trio—though trio was perhaps not a very fitting description, considering that this one sat on the other end of the staff table, as far away from his colleagues as physically possible—introduced himself as Reginald Mitchwell and despite his tan skin and dark blonde hair the man reminded Harry so much of Snape it was disturbing. He had a straight nose, small eyes and a pointed chin that gave off the impression of being sharp enough to draw blood.
But the similarities weren't so much in outward appearances as they were in mannerisms. Reginald Mitchwell's even face could have been attractive if it wasn't for the constant sneer he wore, almost as though he'd plastered the expression on his head with a sticking charm. His every movement was controlled and practical, to the point where Harry had to wonder if maybe some crazy magician had started to mess around with a muggle robot after all, and his voice was quiet and soft in the most unsettling way as he introduced himself to the appraising student body.
Harry would have accused the man of being a polyjuiced Snape if he didn't know for a fact that Snape had far too much skill to lower himself to a sad replica of Crouch Junior's plot in fourth year. The man wouldn't have been able to fool Dumbledore otherwise.
But striking similarities with the previous potions professor or not, all in all Mitchwell did not make much of an impression, be it positive or negative. Still, Harry vowed to keep an eye on the newbies. One could never be to careful.
That was also his justification as to why, as soon as the headmistress finally started the feast, he proceeded to systematically hit first the tableware and than any food within reach with a complex revelation charm Hermione had taught him over the summer. Hogwarts' house elves were sweet, loving creatures, but Harry refused to bet his life on their overly trusting nature.
His friends rolled their eyes in exasperation. It didn't escape Harry's notice however, that none of them touched their food until he'd finished his careful inspection.
Lazy bastards.
shade by shade
"So we just sit back and do nothing?" Seamus' incredulous question cut through the buzz of conversation in the seventh year boys' dorm, breaking the light-hearted atmosphere immediately.
"We won't just sit back and do nothing," Harry corrected, making no effort to conceal his exasperation. "We're going to sit back and watch with our eyes wide open."
"Same difference," Dean snorted. He barely twitched when Ginny promptly hit him over the back of the head.
Those two had an odd relationship, Harry noted absently. They could be star-struck lovers one second and bickering children the next. And despite what the others seemed to think it wasn't the normal kind of bickering you found in most relationships. Their words were too sharp for that, their smiles too blood-thirsty.
"It's really not," Neville calmly cut in, deftly sidestepping yet another dramatic argument between the couple. "It's the first night back. We should at least give everyone a chance to settle in and observe those guards." His posture was the picture of relaxation but the quiet confidence the once painfully shy young man carried lent his words more weight than they otherwise would have carried. "Our past experiences with 'protectors' may not have been good, but we can't let those experiences ruin our willingness to work with other people. We need to be cautious, no doubt about that, but we can't afford being unreasonable."
"Couldn't have said it better myself," Harry nodded.
"I still don't like it!" Seamus snapped. He didn't just look agitated. He looked furious. And his cold, blue eyes were focused solely on Harry. "That's what we agreed on back when Umbitch haunted Hogwarts too. And what happened? We were her prisoners in all but name, and that was what one woman accomplished whilst the Ministry still had some stability left and all the other teachers worked against her! And we still had to fucking watch you being tortured for a whole sodding year! She could've killed you! Merlin knows, she was bat-shit-crazy enough to do it! I'm not going through this fucked up shit again!"
Harry swallowed. Even after all these years it was still odd to see people so determined to stand up for him. To see protectiveness ignite a deadly fire in Seamus' eyes. To see those intense emotions directed at him.
"That's not what we're doing, Seam." Ginny's gentle voice rang out through the quiet room, reminding Harry that he was supposed to make a point, not get teary-eyed about his friends' habit of obsessing over his safety and wellbeing. "I for my part haven't forgotten the damage that toad did. But what Harry's suggesting isn't repeating the same mistake, it's learning from it."
"The rules that have been implemented so far are reasonable," Hermione finally entered the conservation, though she still didn't bother to look up from her thick, ancient-looking evening lecture. Sprawled out across Ron's bed she looked almost at peace, if you ignored the wild way her eyes flew over the pages.
"Fighting them now will only diminish our credibility. If we antagonise the Order from the very beginning, we lose any support we might otherwise gain and harden their attitude towards us. This time we know the warning signs and we know what to watch out for. We won't be overwhelmed again. As soon as they overstep their boundaries, we'll act. No hesitation, no holding back." Hermione's tone was clipped, leaving no room for disagreements as she nonchalantly turned another page.
Not for the first time Harry wondered how anyone could possibly see the young woman's unforgiving expression and still see her as nothing more than a harmless bookworm.
"Fine, have it your way." Seamus lifted his hands as if to signal his capitulation, though his body remained tense. "But I'm gonna stay back and say 'I told you so' once the Order pulls some motherfucking ancient law out of their arse and turns all of us into breeding slaves without any rights in an attempt to prove that they've got bigger balls than Riddle."
"I wonder if Riddle's body in its current state is even capable of developing a copulatory organ," Hermione looked disturbingly fascinated by her line of thought.
The words earned her a moment of collective silence. Harry decidedly did not think about what their bushy-haired companion had implied.
"You'd still be a slave along with the rest of us in that scenario," Ron finally pointed out. No doubt he was already calculating the likelihood of that particular set of events. And maybe the probability of Tom Riddle having balls.
Harry wondered how mentally scarring those numbers would be and resolved to never ever ask Ron or Hermione about it. There were just some probabilities he was better off not knowing.
"True." Seamus only shrugged, which probably meant that they were all becoming far too used to the way Hermione's mind worked. "But at least I could rub this fatal moment in your face for the rest of our pitiful existence."
Ginny hit him over the head with a pillow. "You're such an idiot."
"You sound surprised," Dean stated, sounding quite surprised himself as he stared at his girlfriend.
The conversation only went downhill from there.
shade by shade
The next morning found Harry being unceremoniously dragged into the headmistress' office at five o'clock in the morning. The only one less impressed with that particular occurrence than himself was, surprisingly, the aforementioned Headmistress.
"Potter," Minerva McGonagall greeted him with a curt nod before he even had the chance to fully enter the room.
If that hadn't clued him into the woman's terrible mood, the way she whirled around and stalked towards the other occupant in a manner that was eerily reminiscent to the billowing robes Snape had been infamous for would have done the trick.
"Now that the boy has joined us, will you be so kind as to explain why you decided to run my door down without any explanation?" McGonagall hissed furiously.
Harry blinked in surprise at the unexpected display. His former transfiguration teacher was known for her unwavering composure. To see her so out of it, for lack of a better word, was… disconcerting. But could he really blame her? The last months had to have been hard on her as well. McGonagall hadn't just lost a leader, she had lost a colleague and decades-old friend.
Reopening the school again and stepping into Dumbledore's footsteps could not be easy on her. And that was before one took into consideration the ever looming threat of Voldemort on the horizon and the war his eventual arrival would bring.
Besides being literally pushed out of bed after only a few hours of sleep didn't exactly help matters. True, Harry doubted anyone would dare to actually push the headmistress out of bed, never mind live to tell the tale. But her dishevelled appearance and the sleeping garments peeking out from underneath her outer robe made it obvious that McGonagall hadn't received a much more gentle awakening than he had gotten.
And on that thought Harry finally turned his attention towards the only other woman in the room who had apparently ordered him here. The woman whom, without saying a single word, had already made it onto The List.
It wasn't a list anyone would want to be on.
She was tall, a couple of inches taller than Harry. Long hair, too fair to be called blonde, framed her thin face in two complicatedly woven braids. The woman was dressed in plain, black clothes and the cool look she sent him made Harry's hand instinctively twitch towards his wand. There was a layer of steel in those eyes that had nothing to do with their grey colour.
"We have been working on the upgraded security checks," the still unnamed woman said in an unexpectedly raspy voice. On her nod, one of the men by her side stepped forward and carefully placed an nondescript trunk in the middle of the room. "This one could not be opened. Further investigation showed that it belongs to one Harry Potter."
There was no accusation in the woman's voice, but then, there didn't have to be. Harry forced himself not to bristle in reaction to her words nonetheless. A temper tantrum would achieve nothing, and truthfully he didn't want to give them the satisfaction of getting under his skin.
"Miss Frey," McGonagall said, when it became apparent that Harry wouldn't grace the woman's statement with a response. In his defence, no questions had been asked, so that they were even expecting a response from him in the first place was a little strange. "You've caused this ruckus at the crack of dawn because one of my off-age students had the foresight to secure his belongings from outside interference." The headmistress' eyes narrowed, impatience chipping away on her usually calm demeanour. "Which, might I add, is perfectly within his rights and certainly no cause for alarm. Do I understand the situation correctly or is there anything else you wish to add?"
Harry blinked. He had never regarded Professor McGonagall as his enemy but the fervour she displayed in this moment, in his defence no less, felt foreign to him. The way she pushed the other woman, Miss Frey, into a verbal corner without even a glance in his direction. Well. That was new.
Of course being pulled out of bed for something so tedious probably hadn't improved Frey's standing in the headmistress' eyes. And as Harry observed her pinched lips and tense shoulders, it suddenly occurred to him that maybe the students weren't the only ones being reminded of another outside force taking control of Hogwarts.
Frey too appeared to realise that this wasn't a battle she was going to win, if the way she closed her mouth as though to carefully think over her next words was any indication. Harry ruthlessly squashed the vicious satisfaction he felt at that. He hadn't painstakingly convinced his friends of the sit and wait policy, just to provoke these guards the first chance he got. Frey was clearly high up in whatever command structure these guards had. Petty spitefulness now might earn him an enemy they couldn't afford to fight later on.
"No," the woman said at last. "Nothing else comes to mind."
Harry didn't think he imagined the touch of irony that echoed in Frey's answer.
"In that case, please unseal your trunk, Mr. Potter," McGonagall commanded politely. "While I commend your caution, especially considering your precarious circumstances, all students are being searched to ensure Hogwarts' safety." At this, the headmistress stood a little straighter and added with finality, "There will be no exceptions."
Harry wasn't sure if they were expecting a fight from him but if they did, they were about to be disappointed. Not only did he agree with the precaution, there was also absolutely nothing incriminating in his trunk. It was too obvious a target to hold anything of worth. Even his treasured photo album and Sirius' firebolt had long been hidden away in the depths of the Chamber of Secrets. There at least they were beyond the reach of envious classmates and deranged teachers.
Without another word he strode towards his trunk, sank down until he could comfortably caress the ordinary, silver lock with one finger and, unable to help himself, he sent a quick wink into Frey's direction before he leaned forward and hissed, "Forever, again and again."
There was no mistaking the flinch of the adults' present at the inhumane sound. To Harry, it was a language and nothing more, albeit a very useful, melodious one. Though his friends preferred to call it creepy, with Hermione diplomatically described the the sound as "decidedly unpleasant", so maybe that was just another perk of speaking Parseltongue.
Ignoring the sudden spike of tension in the air, Harry calmly watched as a series of clicks emitted from within the lock before it turned into itself and the trunk fell open. Backing up a couple of steps he allowed the two security wizards at his back to do their job, all too aware of the way Frey was still watching him closely.
"That is… quite an unusual security measure, Mr. Potter," the grey-eyed woman remarked in an admirably unconcerned tone. She wasn't fooling anyone, but Harry truly saw no harm in answering the implied question.
"It's actually quite practical. I mean, the only one who could guess the password would be Voldemort," year-long experience kept Harry from reacting to the collective flinch with anything other than a reflexive eye-roll, "and I figure if he's made it so far into Hogwarts that he can play around with my luggage, I've got bigger things to worry about than some Death Eater going through my underwear."
Although the mental image of Snape holding his pants with the flying snitches would be a sight to see.
Frey made a non-committed noise in the back of her throat that made it impossible for Harry to tell if she believed him or not. He didn't much care either way, it was far too early to play politics. He could be courteous but that was all they were going to get until he'd gotten at least another eight hours of sleep.
Which was, sadly, unlikely to happen any time soon.
"Is there a particular reason you believe such- measures to be necessary?" One of the security guards who stood motionless by Frey's side asked, stumbling just the slightest bit over the words to describe Harry's gift.
Unable to help himself, Harry snorted. "I'm the Boy-Who-Lived," he emphasised in his best snotty Malfoy impression. "Even if I didn't have a madman and his psychotic followers after my head, I'm a celebrity. I'm not too fond of people going through my stuff like it's public propriety, using my belongings as their personal lucky charms as it suits them. Trust me, securing my trunk was one of the first things Hogwarts taught me out of sheer necessity."
And wasn't that true? Really, the amount of students the his dorm mates had to kick out during his first weeks at Hogwarts was downright ridiculous. On the plus side, all of them had basic security wards down by the end of their fourth year. Except for Hermione, obviously, who'd put them up after the Christmas holidays in their second year because there was nothing she couldn't do when she put her mind to it.
"May I go now?" Harry made no effort to conceal his growing impatience. It was one trunk, for Merlin's sake. What exactly did they expect, that he'd smuggled Riddle's body in it?
Neither McGonagall nor Frey answered immediately, both sending the two wizards bowed over his belongings an expectant look. It was probably Ron's paranoia talking, but Harry couldn't help but wonder if they wanted to find something.
"All clear," the dark-skinned wizard on the left said after yet another muttered incantation.
"In that case, I apologise for the inconvenience," McGonagall cast a sharp glare into Frey's direction. "Mr. Potter, you are free to go. Miss Frey, in the future I expect you to only pull a student," the 'or me' was left unsaid but clearly heard by everyone present, "out of bed if the matter is indeed urgent."
It was obvious that the admonishment didn't sit well with Frey, so Harry grabbed his trunk and high-tailed it out of the office before either woman could drag him into their cat-fight.
But paranoid or not, he was certain he didn't imagine the eyes burning holes in the back of his head until the door swung shut behind him.
What a promising start into the year.
shade by shade
Breakfast that morning was an overall peaceful affair, if you ignored the death glares Harry sent everyone who dared to breathe too loud or in the wrong rhythm. Suffice to say that lack of sleep and a certain green-eyed Gryffindor were not a healthy combination, for anyone in his vicinity.
The security wizards, gliding like black shadows through the hallways, did nothing to improve the Gryffindors' mood. Ginny in particular jumped every time she noticed an unusual movement out of the corner of her eye and even the normally so relaxed Seamus reached for his wand a time or two.
"They should've worn pink uniforms," he muttered in annoyance on their way to Defence. "At least then we wouldn't confuse them with Death Eaters all the bloody time!"
The defence class room was already mostly full by the time the Gryffindors filed in. Harry was satisfied to discover that their customary places on the backside of the room near the window had remained untouched. It was almost a tradition by now and though he honestly doubted that a Death Eater would have passed Moody's investigation, he was none too keen to stay in direct reach of their newest teacher. Too many bad memories.
"Do you think it's a coincidence that we're paired with the Slytherins again?" Dean hissed from his place diagonally in front of Harry.
"Coincidences don't exist," Hermione replied matter-of-factly, at the same time as Ron answered, "Considering the way the Order operates, there is a 93 per cent chance that it's been done on purpose."
The two glared at each other.
"That's basically what I said!"
"You don't allow enough room for other possibilities!" Ron snapped back, pushing a hand through his bright, red hair in irritation. "Just because some of them are less likely than others doesn't mean we should just discard them."
Harry opened his mouth, intent to calm his friends down before their spat escalated into a serious fight, when a most unusual sight caught his attention. Two rows in front of him, another student had taken a seat on the one chair that used to remain empty during class. That in itself wouldn't be cause for alarm, the identity of the student however was.
It was none other than Theodore Nott.
What in Merlin's name was a Slytherin doing on the Gryffindor side of the room?
Harry knew the exact moment his friends took notice of their unexpected companion. His hand shot out almost on its own accord to grab a hold of Ron's forearm when the other male made a move to rise. Ignoring his friend's questioning look, he shook his head once, a wordless command.
With narrow eyes Harry let his eyes wander over the tense form of his Slytherin year mate. As though subconsciously aware of the inspection, Nott suddenly turned around. Inwardly Harry blanched at being caught so easily, but he refused to be the first to look away. Something flickered in Nott's dark eyes, something like defiance mixed with another emotion Harry couldn't identify.
Then their new professor, Callander Edwin, entered the room with brisk steps and the moment was broken. Nott turned back towards the front so fast, Harry barely saw him move. And if it wasn't for the white-knuckled grip the Slytherin had on the edge of the table, he might have written the exchange of as nothing important.
As it was, Harry didn't. Something was going on with the Slytherins, and he was absolutely sure that it was more than just his possible prejudice talking. Letting his gaze carefully wander over the other snakes, he couldn't spot anything out of the ordinary.
Malfoy's former seat in between Crabbe and Goyle was still empty, almost like a shrine to their absent leader. Otherwise the Slytherins appeared calm, if slightly wary. No doubt they were all too aware of their precarious position within enemy territory, should the Order decide to do something drastic.
"I hope you know what you're doing, mate," Ron muttered under his breath, though he had obediently relaxed back into his seat again.
Really, the only other thing that had changed was- Harry froze, his gaze locked on the seat in the third row to his right. Nott's former seat.
A seat in which Adrian Pucey now lounged with the sort of self-assured confidence every pureblood heir seemed to inherently carry themselves with.
"So do I, Ron," Harry whispered, not really intending for the words to be heard.
He hadn't forgotten those haunting, emotionless eyes, the complete lack of any form of humanity. He probably never would.
"So do I."
shade by shade
Defence with Callander Edwin was… different, to say the least.
That was the most diplomatic description Harry could think of, and even in the privacy of his own mind he couldn't fully suppress a disgusted grimace. Perhaps the worst part was his traitorous friends' obvious amusement.
Sit back and watch. Give them a chance. Observe. Don't draw attention. Sit back and watch.
The mantra had been on constant replay in the back of his head and after two hours his resulting headache was worthy of Riddle's work on his better days. He had made a plan and Harry refused to go back on it. He'd endured Frey, he'd endured Seamus' challenging looks, he was not going to break his resolve for one irritating but overall inconsequent wizard, for Merlin's sake!
And he hadn't. But damn if it hadn't cost him every single ounce of self-control he hadn't known he possessed.
"So," Ginny drawled, clearly picking up on the tense air surrounding her friends and unsure what to do about it, "how was Defence?"
Dean snorted into his pumpkin juice.
Ginny raised a questioning eyebrow at her boyfriend's reaction.
"Professor Edwin's performance is satisfactory," Hermione replied immediately, paying no mind to Neville's and Seamus' obnoxious grins and Ron's sympathetic glance. "He is not a gifted teacher and certainly not an impartial one, but he appears willing enough to actually teach something and has a fairly good grasp of the material."
Harry rolled his eyes at his best friend's answer. It wasn't that she was wrong, Hermione was never wrong. It was just that, well.
"I'm going to murder that man in his sleep!" he snarled, the fragile control over his ire finally snapping.
"Harry," Hermione warned, soothing instead of scolding. An unspoken reminder that stabbing his fork so hard through the steak that the plate underneath began to fracture was not part of the public image they wanted to maintain.
"Alright, clearly I'm missing something." It was a statement, not a question, but there was no misinterpreting the demanding gleam in Ginny's eyes.
"Edwin is a despicable, rotten excuse of a human being, that's what you're missing!"
"Harry!" This time, Hermione's rebuke was sharp. "You're being irrational. He's not that bad."
"Easy for you to say," Harry accused, albeit careful to keep his voice low, well-aware that they were in plain view of students and teachers alike. The Gryffindors close enough to listen in knew to keep their mouth shut, but even that would only protect their privacy so much. "All you had to do was listen and take notes!"
"Will someone please tell me what's going on?" Ginny interrupted their quarrel with an ease born from year-long practice. The fire in her eyes though belied the rising viciousness behind her politely worded request.
"Well, you see," Ron trailed of, apparently lost on how to explain this latest development. "It's not that Edwin isn't competent. It's just that he appears to be…" here the redhead tried and failed to suppress a grin, "slightly obsessed with a certain Boy-Who-Lived."
Ginny blinked, caught of guard by the unexpected revelation. Then her lips twitched.
"He's a groupie?"
There was no mistaking the amused twinkle in her eyes.
"Not you too!" Harry moaned in despair. "That man is impossible! It was like he didn't even notice there were other people besides me in the room! Not even fake-Moody was that focused on me and he had a creepy eye to help him!"
"Poor you," Ginny snickered, unable to keep quiet in the face of Harry's betrayed expression. "What is the world coming to, when even our esteemed Defence teacher isn't plotting your death anymore?"
Harry refused to dignify that with an answer.
shade by shade
The rest of the day passed thankfully uneventful. The only odd thing was that during their double period Charms, Nott chose once again to sit on the Gryffindor side of the room. But considering he made no move against them, nor tried to engage them in any way, Harry supposed that he could let it be. For now.
Seamus still wasn't happy with the waiting policy, but at least the Irish male had decided to focus his frustration on doing something productive. If you could count terrorising, ahem, training the younger Gryffindors into a force to be reckoned with as something productive, which Harry most certainly did.
None of them had spoken about it, perhaps still unwilling to acknowledge the unavoidable truth that these children, the youngest of which were barely twelve, would soon find themselves on the front line of a battle they might not win.
At least, Harry admitted in bitter resignation, Seamus' drills could give them a fighting chance.
Hermione and Ron had buried themselves in their individual projects, Dean and Ginny had snuck off together to do whatever it was they did and Neville was on a scouting mission for the files Harry had assigned him. All in all, it was almost disconcerting how quickly the seven of them had fallen into their usual back-to-school routines.
Under normal circumstances Harry would have joined his oldest friends. He wasn't delusional enough to believe that he could help them, but there was something undeniably comforting in the quiet companionship the three of them shared. It never failed to amaze him, how Hermione would breeze through magical theories people trice her age struggled to grasp or how Ron would turn even the most complicated scenario into the simplest equation.
It was pure beauty in one of its least appreciated forms, and for that it was all the more precious.
And yet, for some reason Harry couldn't explain, he found himself unable to relax into his usual chair and enjoy his usual evening activities. There was just so much left to do.
They had to figure out the shifts of the new security guards. They had to find places that would be safe from the Order members to meet with their contacts in the other houses. They had to investigate the other Hogwarts students and finalise the Gryffindor security policies and protocols. More than anything else they finally had to figure out a way to deal with Riddle.
One that, preferably, wouldn't end with a bloody massacre and Hogwarts razed to the grounds.
It was only their first day back though. It was completely understandable that they hadn't gotten much work done yet. But that didn't stop the helplessness from creeping in, the terrible feeling that they were sitting around when they should be out there. Fighting. Doing something, anything meaningful.
On a rational level, Harry knew that this wasn't how war worked. War wasn't all about the battle. In fact, compared to the time they spent sitting around, planning, training, waiting, those battles were nothing.
It had never bothered him before. Of course, he had never been as conscious of the inevitable end they were all working towards either. Until the end of Harry's fifth year, he hadn't even known that there was anything besides a sick obsession that had kept Riddle's focus on him all these years. And, if he was completely honest with himself, it wasn't until he'd witnessed Dumbledore's murder that the weight of the prophecy had truly fallen onto his shoulders.
He had still been a child back then. Maybe, in some ways, he still was.
Wordlessly, Harry rose from his place between his friends, unable to stay even a second longer. Neither Hermione nor Ron payed him any attention, probably too far gone into a world of their own creation to notice his unease. The air of quiet concentration he usually cherished felt oppressive all of sudden, what with the unfamiliar restlessness crackling like electric currents beneath his skin.
It was already half an hour past the new curfew, not that anyone made a move to stop him from leaving. It was an open secret among the students that Harry Potter could get anywhere he wanted within Hogwarts, and you only caught him when he wanted you to.
As soon as the closing portrait hid him from view, Harry pulled his invisibility cloak over his head in one well-practiced move and slipped into the shadows of the hallway.
He didn't know where he was going yet, all he really knew was that he desperately needed to move.
shade by shade
There was something inherently calming about the Astronomy Tower. It was certainly an odd place to return to, but after almost running into five guards, three from the introduced security personnel and two Order members he hadn't recognised, the moving staircases and twisting hallways had become a little too claustrophobic for Harry's already agitated nerves.
The familiar way up the narrow stairs had soothed some of that anxiety, as had the feeling of an open sky above his head. It was probably wrong that a place that had seen so much pain, betrayal and loss should still emit so much peace, but Harry couldn't help it.
He remembered the nights he'd spent up here, sometimes alone, sometimes with company. Ginny's bright smile when he'd named the stars for her. Ron's legs bumping against his, because they weren't eleven anymore, and their old hideaways weren't as comfortable as they used to be. The echo of Hermione's steps when she'd chased after him up here, while the rest of the world was content to damn him.
The Astronomy Tower had been his safe haven once. The place he went to when the world got too big and too crowded, a place where he was locked away, yet never actually locked in.
It was his sanctuary, and not even Dumbledore's murder could change that.
Leaning with his back against the even stone wall, the invisibility cloak carelessly pooled into his lap, Harry closed his eyes for a moment and breathed easier than he had in a long while.
"You shall yearn for victory," a musing voice glided through the air, disruptive yet welcome, like a refreshing midsummer breeze, "you shall fear defeat. For, in these trying times ahead, a battle remains the only guarantee."
Soft footsteps sounded and Harry slowly opened his eyes to watch the slender blonde sit down cross-legged across him. As always her movements were gracious and effortless. It was her eyes, looking too big in her thin face, staring unblinkingly at him, that gave her the sluggish, absent-mindedly appearance she was known for.
"You've kept me waiting, Harry Potter."
Harry smiled despite himself. "Have I now? I apologise, Luna. I wasn't aware I was looking for you."
"No, I suppose you haven't realised it yet," sixth year Ravenclaw Luna Lovegood tilted her head in curiosity. "How odd."
To be fair, there were a lot of odd things about Luna. Every time Harry thought he'd finally figured her out, or at least understood what she was talking about, she suddenly twisted and twirled and left nothing but chaos and uncertainty in her wake.
Harry loved it.
"Why is that?" he asked, unable to help himself. He liked playing along with whatever scheme Luna cooked up in that pretty head of hers. It was always entertaining and more often than not turned out to be incredible useful later on.
"You came where you needed to be without knowing what it was you needed. That's unexpected, don't you think? Odd," Luna drew the last word out, widening her lips comically as though she wanted to roll the word around on her tongue, taste it for all it was worth, "Odd. O-d-d. I quite like this word, I think. People should use it more often, don't you agree? 'Strange' just doesn't have the same level of oddity 'odd' has."
"Maybe it was meant to be," Harry joked, easily skipping over her ramblings. A grin formed so effortlessly on his lips that he found himself wondering why it had taken them so long to take this shape on. Luna had that effect on people, sometimes. She was just so… lightening.
"Nothing is meant to be," Luna shook her head wildly, causing her long hair to get entangled with the butterbeer cork necklace around her throat. Not that she seemed to notice. "And as such everything is."
Harry slowly stretched his legs out in front of him as he mulled over the Ravenclaw's words. Luna did not believe in wasting her time or speaking needlessly, which meant that he was probably missing something. Again.
"You know, sometimes I still wonder if you can see the future. You just- know so much."
It was a ridiculous notion, Hermione had ensured that he knew that. For even in the unlikely event that the Luna did have some talent for precognition, true seers could not remember their visions. And the Lovegoods didn't have one in their family tree, as one of their research projects in fifth year had proven.
And yet, sometimes, when she watched her surroundings with those big, protrudent eyes of hers, Harry was almost certain that she knew things, saw things that nobody else did.
Of course all Luna did in the face of his implied question was smile dreamily at some point over his left shoulder.
"I keep my mind open. You should try it sometimes."
There was no accusation in those words but their bluntness made them sting nonetheless.
Harry sighed.
"Is there anything you can tell me?" he asked despite himself.
Immediately, Luna's eyes sharpened and refocused on him with such a single-minded concentration that Harry found himself avoiding her gaze before he even realised what he was doing. Luna was so soft most of the time, it was easy to forget the layer of hardened steel lying underneath.
"What is it that you want to hear?" she asked, almost snapped, right back.
"I don't know."
"But you do."
Harry smiled again, a humourless, little thing. "Knowing that everything's gonna work out alright would be nice."
Naturally that wouldn't happen. He didn't need Luna's confirmation to know that. Except maybe he did.
And maybe she knew that too.
"Death doesn't discriminate and neither does magic. Many will fall before the end, and their faces will belong to friend and foe alike," Luna stated. Her eyes had lost that startling focus but her voice was just as cutting as before. "I don't need the nargles' whispers to know that. There can be-," here, her breath caught for just a moment, "There can be no magic without a price, no victory without sacrifices."
Harry found himself closing his eyes, as if to unconsciously brace himself against the impact of her words. But when Luna continued, even her voice had lost its harshness, leaving nothing but gentle whispers behind.
"It is an odd, scary thought, don't you think?" Her silvery eyes remained fixed on a corner slightly to Harry's left, and he suddenly realised with painful clarity that it was the spot where Dumbledore had fallen she was staring at. "That no matter the crimes one commits, their faces may still be pretty, their smiles still genuine. No matter the amount of blood one has on their hands, a hand full of water will always be enough to wash them clean." She lifted her hands then, inspected them in the shallow moonlight. "That's the most terrifying thing about monsters, I should think. That we do not recognise them, until they see it fit to reveal their true nature."
And as Harry thought of Tom Riddle's charming smile, Lockhart's effortless popularity, Crouch Junior's simple trickery and Snape's single-minded devotion, he couldn't help but agree whole-heartedly.
But the thing was, Luna Lovegood was not the kind of girl to remain stuck in the past. She rarely even bothered with events that had already come to pass, and her words gained a whole new meaning in light of her vested interest into present and perhaps even future. Harry swallowed.
"What is it you're trying to say, Luna?" he asked. Aware that he truly didn't want to know, yet unable to let it go.
Luna blinked at him, as though she had already forgotten he was still there. Her words sounded raspy, dazed almost, but her eyes were clearer than Harry had ever seen them be.
"Not everyone who walks on the side of the angels is truly among their own kind, Harry Potter."
shade by shade
A confident knock pulled Mirandella from her thoughts and the young woman found herself face to face with Ramon Jenks, one of her closest friends among her colleagues, before she even had the chance to open her mouth.
"Jenks," she greeted the broad-shouldered, tanned man and felt her muscles tense in anticipation. It was a reflex, probably a redundant one at that, but in these times one could never be too prepared. "Has something happened?"
"No, Miss Frey," Jenks answered immediately, his deep voice resonating in the small office. "The castle is quiet, nothing out of the ordinary has been spotted so far. Although Moody has requested a list of the students that triggered the security checks to be sent to him at your earliest convenience."
Mirandella just barely managed to suppress a derisive snort, more than certain that Alastor hadn't done anything as polite and respectful as 'requesting' the data they'd collected. Still, from the twenty-three students that had questionable objects in their trunks, none had really piked her interest. Most of the items in question had been joke material from that Weasley shop. There were a couple of borderline dark books they confiscated, but nothing truly dangerous or valuable.
In that regard at least, the controls had been a complete waste of her team's time, albeit a necessary one.
No, it were another seven students altogether that had been brought to her attention because of this. Hannah Abbott, Zacharias Smith, Terry Boot, Luna Lovegood, Eveline Winter, Dennis Creevey and, of course, Harry Potter. None of them had anything of interest within their trunks. It was actually their trunks themselves which had drawn Mirandella's attention, for it wasn't every day that she came across an object warded so well, none of her men were capable of opening it. That nothing even remotely suspicious was found once the students had been asked to open the trunks for them only highlighted Mirandella's suspicion.
You didn't go through all that trouble for some clothes and a couple of school books. There had to be something she was missing, she was sure of it. Not that she could prove it.
Staring down at the two lists in her hands, one of the students who had been proven guilty and one of the seven who had been cleared beyond all doubt, Mirandella made a decision and handed Jenks a copy of the first one. The second one she nonchalantly slipped underneath yet another folder filled with pointless paperwork.
"This is the information Moody is after. Get it to him immediately, we both know patience is a virtue he decidedly lacks."
The two shared a companionable smile before Jenks nodded his head with an acquiescent, "Miss Frey."
It was when he'd almost reached the door that her old friend turned around one last time.
"Before I forget, Moody also wanted to know if there was anything unusual about Potter's trunk." There was an ironic smile twitching at the corners of Jenks' lips.
For just a moment, Mirandella paused, considering. But in the end, the decision had already been made.
"Tell Alastor that he needs to let me do my work or do it himself. And then you may let him know that there was nothing remarkable about Potter's luggage, except that he used a password in Parseltongue."
Her voice broke no room for arguments but Mirandella was observant enough to catch the beginnings of a frown on Jenks' face.
"Miss Frey?" he asked.
They had known each other long enough for Mirandella to catch everything he didn't say out loud. The fact of the matter was that none of their curse breakers, and they were excellent curse breakers indeed, had been able to break through the enchantments on that damn trunk. It didn't matter that none of them spoke the correct language, no simple password ward would have been able to keep them out. Mirandella knew that, and so did Jenks.
"You have your orders, Jenks," she allowed her voice to sharpen dangerously and waited for her subordinate to bow his head in wordless acceptance before she continued. "Also, keep an eye on Potter and his friends, but don't let anyone notice you. If you notice anything out of the ordinary, contact me immediately."
"Of course, Miss Frey."
End of Chapter 4