Chapter Text
It was almost July when a bridge collapsed in London. Three people were killed, dozens were injured to varying degrees, and all of them were Muggles. Righteous anger bubbled across the city. “Stability issues,” they cried, “stability issues” had caused the death of three pedestrians. In truth, the bridge had been fine—stability issues were just convenient paranoia. There was indeed someone responsible for the collapse, but these sad, angry people would never know who, for a team of wizards had fixed the memories of every living victim and witness.
It was Death Eaters, of course, and their newly reestablished club of giants, Dementors, and the dreadful undead creatures called Inferi. The Death Eaters had ransacked the Ministry only months before, and the wizarding community could no longer pretend that we all weren’t in very real danger.
Our anxiety started seeping into the Muggle world that summer, and this put Dad and I into a very delicate and awkward situation. My mother, a Muggle, had grown increasingly critical of the wizarding Ministry. She declared that the our Ministry were “paternalistic bastards” intent keeping the Muggle population uninformed.
I felt uneasily complicit in this situation. Dad and I had heard news of the attacks, and we’d accepted it silently. What could we—a mere student and a Ministry employee—do but watch?
Predictably, the drive to King's Cross on September 1st was long and uncomfortable. Dad kept gently reminding me that I didn’t have to go, but we both knew that I did. Hogwarts was now my best chance at completing a formal education. My O-levels were O.W.L.s, and no Muggle school cared if I was particularly adept at reading tea leaves.
“But you should be safe there,” Dad said, and I felt that he was reassuring himself more than me. “With Dumbledore and his staff – Professor Flitwick was a Master Duelist, you know—the Death Eaters would be foolish to try anything at Hogwarts.”
At the station, we loaded my trunk and cat-carrier onto a trolley in silence, and when we’d finished, Dad sighed. He looked more than exhausted – he looked almost defeated.
“Be careful, Anthony.”
“I will, Dad.”
We stood for a few seconds, saying nothing, before I found myself hugging him tightly. He pressed a kiss into my hair, and then he let me go with a pat on the back.
I crossed through the barrier in a daze, but I soon spotted one of my best friends. Terry Boot was alone, as he always was when he entered Platform 9¾. He’d said good-bye to his Muggle parents on the other side of the wall.
"Hello," I called, waving to get his attention.
Terry grinned widely and broke into a trot—well, as much as he could while trying to pull his cart behind him. It was only a matter of seconds before an oblivious family caused him to stop, and the heavy cart ran into him and nearly knocked him over. I winced in sympathy. Visibly puffing, Terry wheeled the cart around and started pushing like everyone else (which was really the most sensible method all along).
“Anthony! I almost didn’t make it. How are you?”
I laughed, grateful to forget about the heavy outside world for a minute. “I’m fine. I would ask how you are, but....”
Terry waved a hand. “I’m all right. Perhaps I’ll forget about my N.E.W.T.s and start a clown troupe with Neville Longbottom.”
I laughed in earnest this time. I always appreciated Terry’s deadpan humor. “Well, before you do that, I have a favor to ask you.”
"Anything, Anthony dear.”
We started making our way to the train. The bright red engine was a wonderfully comforting sight.
"Well, I've got prefect things to do,” I said. “But I can't leave Boots alone."
My black-and-white cat mrowed mournfully from his cage, and Terry gave him a skeptical look.
"Well, just between you and me, I think he's putting on." Boots mewed again, and Terry sighed. “But since he's my namesake, I guess I'm obligated. Sort of like a godparent, only your cat's Jewish."
"Is he? He certainly doesn't follow any commandments. Perhaps he meets the criteria for being a Christian."
"I imagine so," Terry chirped. "We're very inclusive."
In truth, Boots had received his name from his white-booted feet. He came to Hogwarts with me as a kitten, already christened (if we're going with that), but Terry's claimed from the moment he met him that Boots was obviously named for him.
“All right," I said heavily as we lugged our trunks onto the train. "Just stow him wherever you’re staying, and I’ll come find you later, all right?"
Terry saluted. "Sounds good. C’mon, Boots."
As Terry went off in search of an empty space, I made my way to the prefect’s compartment. As I entered, I saw that Padma Patil, my co-prefect, had already arrived. She was frowning over the latest issue of The Wizard Watcher. The magazine’s cover showed a photo of a tawny-haired wizard with an intimidating scowl (“Scrimgeour’s Scour,” the headline read). Across the way sat the sixth-year Slytherin prefects, Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy, who considered themselves something of a power couple. Pansy was reading aloud a Witch Weekly quiz to a very dour and distracted-looking Draco. He glanced up as I entered the cabin and sent me a particularly nasty look. I was momentarily taken aback before I remembered an awful hexing incident last term that involved me, several other D.A. members, and a disfigured and incapacitated Malfoy. All things considered, I was pleased to see him looking human again.
After a moment, Padma looked up and caught my eye. She smiled, patting the empty seat beside her.
“Hi, Anthony,” she said warmly. “You look very nice today. Taller even?”
“Yes, apparently I’ve grown a bit. I had to buy all new robes.” I absently brushed the front of my cardigan. “How was your summer?”
Padma frowned. “Not so good. My parents wanted Parvati and me to stay home this year. They’re terrified the school will be overrun with dark wizards.”
“Your parents too?” I said grimly. “I don’t think Dad would have let me return if it weren’t for Dumbledore.”
“Same for me,” Padma agreed. “Hogwarts truly is the safest place for us as long as Dumbledore’s there.”
I nodded and moved slightly closer to Padma. A person had taken the seat to my left, and they were pushing their way almost into mine.
“Excuse me,” the person said in a loud voice. “I’m afraid there’s not much room down here.”
“No worries,” I said. “I’m afraid there isn’t much room down here either.”
“Oh, dear,” he puffed.
I turned to see Ernie Macmillan, a Hufflepuff prefect, who was trying to appear proper as always. His posture was so straight and his chin so high that his demeanor bordered on ridiculous. I also noticed his cheeks were distinctly pink, and something about that made my own face heat up.
I scooted closer to Padma, which put me almost in her lap, but it was better than the alternative. I had felt Ernie’s warm thigh against my leg, and my face flushed hotter, and I knew I couldn’t sit the whole meeting right against him like that. This irrational fear sometimes gripped me, that if I touched another boy for a moment too long, everyone around me would suddenly know I wasn’t the sort of boy who fancied girls.
“Well,” I laughed nervously. “I hope you don’t mind a cozy prefect’s meeting.”
“I wouldn’t have a choice if I did,” Ernie responded, his voice slightly higher than normal.
Thankfully, the Head Girl and Boy chose that moment to call the prefects to order. I tried to pay attention, but my mind was occupied with shifting slightly back and forth in my seat between Ernie and Padma. Also, Ernie wouldn’t stop shaking his leg, which proved incredibly distracting.
When the meeting finally finished, Ernie practically leapt from his seat. I pretended not to notice and turned to Padma.
“So I’ll see you back at the castle?”
“Of course,” she nodded. “I’m posted down on the other end of the train.”
I heard Ernie and Hannah exchanging similar good byes, and Hannah followed in Padma’s direction. It was almost quiet for a minute.
“Well, this is nice, isn’t it?” Ernie said grandly. “You and I don’t often get to chat one-on-one.”
“No, you’re right,” I said seriously, lightly adopting Ernie’s affected manner. I thought Terry and Michael would be very amused to see this exchange.
“I know we’re very busy, both of us prefects, almost top of our class—” He suddenly paused, sending around a worried glance. “Sorry, but I do wonder if this is safe, don’t you? There will be Aurors when we get to Hogsmeade to see us off the train, but in the meantime....”
“Aurors in Hogsmeade?” A sickly wave washed over me.
Ernie looked appalled. “Yes, weren’t you listening in the meeting? And don’t you read the news?”
“I’ve been trying not to,” I answered weakly.
He bristled. “Well, the news will happen whether you like it or not. It’s best to stay informed.” I caught his pointed glance at my badge.
“All in all, my family’s very pleased with the measures Scrimgeour is taking.” Ernie suddenly peered at me. “You do know—"
“Yes, I know the new Minister for Magic,” I said a bit impatiently.
“Yes, well, he seems very keen on making sure everyone knows how to protect themselves. He was head of the Auror office, you know.”
I frowned. Somehow I felt less safe with all the Aurors crowded around Hogwarts when I suspected there was quite enough work for them to do elsewhere.
“Your family’s pureblood, aren’t they?” I asked.
“Yes,” Ernie said. He almost sounded defensive. “I’m not sure why you’re asking. The Macmillans have never supported dark wizards. Or the ones in my line never have, anyway.”
My eyebrows rose, but I said nothing.
Ernie continued in a serious tone. “The Ministry has an invested interest in protecting all of us, Anthony. Not just the purebloods.”
“Of course,” I said in a false voice. “My mother’s a Muggle, you know. I’m sure she feels very safe knowing the Ministry has her best interests at heart.”
We’d come to midpoint in the corridor, and our short patrol was finished. I slowed to a halt and stood for a moment. A worry crept upon me that I’d been too sarcastic. Despite his inflated airs, Ernie was definitely not an idiot. Instinctively I felt him looking at me, and when I turned to him, he wore an intense, curious expression I couldn’t decipher. For a second I was sure that I’d hurt his feelings.
Finally, Ernie sighed. “I understand why you’re concerned. I do think the Ministry could do a better job acknowledging blended families. That’s one reason I’d like to enter politics myself. Department of Magical Law is what I’m aiming for,” he added matter of factly.
I couldn’t help but smile. Ernie was already campaigning, and he hadn’t even taken his N.E.W.T.s yet. “You’ll be excellent,” I told him. “I hope you go for it.”
His face turned red, all the way to his straw-blond roots. It occurred to me that his ruddy complexion was particularly susceptible to blushes.
Before he could speak again, I placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. “Look, Ernie. It’s been nice talking to you, but I really need to go find my cat. Terry Boot’s got him somewhere.”
Ernie nodded but glanced at his shoulder, which made me suddenly embarrassed. I quickly drew back my hand.
“Right. See you in class tomorrow then,” I mumbled, giving an awkward wave.
I didn’t have to go far to find Terry. He was sitting in a compartment with Michael Corner and Cho Chang, Michael’s new girlfriend. Someone had let Boots out of his cage, and he was curled contentedly in Cho’s lap.
I took a seat by the window next to Terry, and it wasn’t long before Boots left Cho to join me. The sky outside looked unpleasantly dark, and I was reminded of the ride three years ago, when a Dementor found its way onto the train. I shuddered. Suddenly I found myself looking forward to classes and frantic revision schedules. We would be safe at Hogwarts, I reminded myself, just like everyone said—safe and able to focus on something other than Death Eaters.