Chapter Text
Not again
No taste for the crow you feed me
Not again
It's not a matter of if I care
Not again
What an intricate web you're weaving
Did it again
“You have got to be kidding me,” Harry exclaimed, and he swore loudly, knocking his head back against the wall of the Hogwarts express carriage. He smacked the Daily Prophet down on his lap and stared incredulously from Hermione to Ron and back. “Again? They can’t honestly think it’s a good idea to do this whole thing again, can they? Why would Kingsley let the happen? I mean does no one remember what happened last time? I cannot believe this!” he blurted, clearly exasperated.
Hermione shook her head, her eyes rolling a little.
“Honestly, Harry, don’t you think you’re overreacting a little? It’s not like a repeat of that situation is possible. Voldemort’s gone now, and before that, things were fine, weren’t they?” she said, cocking her head.
Harry shook his in response and looked at Ron for support.
“I mean, I see where you’re coming from, mate, but I really don’t think it’ll be much of a problem. Kingsley probably wants to boost morale, you know?” Ron said. Harry saw Hermione squeeze his red haired friend’s hand.
He sighed and looked out the window. He supposed they were right. Since he’d defeated Voldemort back in May, there wasn’t much that could go wrong anymore.
Harry thought back to when he was 14 and been forced into the last Triwizard Tournament against his will. That year, everything he’d been dreading since age eleven had happened. With Voldemort, the Death Eaters and other such threats gone, there really wasn't much of a reason not to have a repeat. Other than the fact that it brought back memories that Harry wasn’t too keen on having glued to the front of his mind.
Hermione leaned across the space between their knees and laid a hand on Harry’s, hers a few shades darker than his. He looked back at her.
“I know this is hard for you. Harder than for the rest of us, but nothing is going to happen this time. If you choose to not enter, then there is no way you will be a part of the Tournament. Everyone can promise that.”
Harry scoffed but made no move to pull his hand away.
“I would never. No matter what anyone offered me, I could never enter this time and promise me please that neither of you will enter?” he asked, looking pleadingly between the faces of his two best friends. Both agreed without question.
The three fell silent for a short while, before Ron spoke.
“Where’s Ginny? He was on the platform with us. I thought she’d be here, now that you two re… back.” He raised an eyebrow at Harry.
“Oh, I think she’s with her seventh year friends. Quite sure, anyhow.” Harry shrugged, not to bothered. “We’ll see her later at the feast.”
“Well I think the two of you are lovely,” Hermione said, giving Harry a loving smile.
“Not too lovely though. We’re the power couple now,” Ron said, putting an arm around Hermione and grinning. She slapped him playfully in the stomach and kissed his cheek.
Things had been nice since Hermione and Ron had gotten together, but different. Harry wasn’t quite as in the group as he had been before, but still, he was okay with that.
“I wonder how this eighth year thing is going to work this year. Hogwarts has never had an eighth year before, and there’s a fair few of us,” Hermione brought up then. Harry, too, had been wondering this. Due to the destruction of Hogwarts, the seventh years had not been able to take their NEWTs, and some hadn’t been as school all year at all.
“I suppose we’ll have the same classes as the seventh years. Not sure if we’ll be with them. THat’d be weird. Not sure I want to have classes with my little sister…” Ron said, his brow furrowing. Harry grinned.
“You’re just afraid cuz she’d show you up in every class,” he joked. Ron mocked looking offended before grinning back and kicking Harry in the shin.
The three continued to talk and joke as the train slid by fields which became forests, and they bought a few pasties off the trolley to get them through the ride. They were relatively close to arriving in Hogsmeade when the door to their compartment slid open to reveal an unpleasant, albeit not unexpected surprise.
“So you three also decided to grace the school with your presence this year. Not that anyone wants it,” came the drawl. Draco Malfoy stepped slightly into their compartment, Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini stayed outside, looking bored.
“I was wondering if you were going to turn up today. Wouldn’t have been a ride on the Hogwarts express if I hadn’t seen you,” Harry said “Is there anything you want?” The corner of Malfoy’s lip curled.
“Well, as you ask, there is actually. It might be of some help to you” he sneered. Pansy Parkinson and Blaise Zabini smirked at each other.
“Since when do you want to help us? And if this isn’t going to be helpful, get out!” Ron said, raising his voice, glaring up at Malfoy. The blonde raised an eyebrow.
“Easy there, Weasel. I can’t think how you could possibly doubt my intentions.” Ron scoffed and gave him a disgusted look.
“Let’s hear it then, so you can get out,” Harry said in a confident yet bored tone of voice. Draco Malfoy turned his head towards Harry then, smirking.
“Well, Potter, let’s just say you won’t be needing any of that attire which shows everyone which house you’re in. I suppose you could consider it a shame, seeing how loyal you are to that house. I suppose we’ll have to see each other later tonight then,” Malfoy drawled, and he turned and left, Pansy and Blaise following him before anyone in that compartment even had the chance to ask what he meant.
“Get rid of our Gryffindor stuff? He can’t be serious,” Ron said, looking around, hoping the others found this just as ridiculous. Harry shrugged, and shook his head.
“I don’t know. He seemed quite serious. And neither he nor his Slytherin friends were wearing patches on their robes, or ties for that matter,” Hermione noted. This worried Harry. Malfoy was right- he was loyal to Gryffindor, as was everyone else in his house. In fact, he would have said the same went for every house. Malfoy too had been fiercely proud of being a Slytherin all through fifth year, if not sixth as well.
“Whatever,” Ron said, shaking his head as if to rid himself of the thought. “I am not taking this tie off, and I’m not listening to what Malfoy says. How would he know what’s going on anyway?”
The train pulled into Hogsmeade then, and they stepped off, heading towards the thestral drawn carriages. Harry tried to pretend he didn’t notice all the attention they were getting from the eighth years this year, although the thestrals looked pleased. It was too painful to realise how many people had become acquainted with seeing death the previous school year.
Upon arriving at the Hogwarts gates, the carriages were deserted, and Harry heard a jolly, familiar voice shouting out: “Eighth years! Eighth years over here for briefing, please!”
It was the head of Hufflepuff house, Professor Sprout, unkempt as ever, but friendly and rosy too. The Eighth year students followed her voice over to the side of the main entrance and stood waiting.
Ginny passed by and stopped to kiss Harry before wandering off waving, looking confused, but grinning nonetheless. Harry grinned back. He liked Ginny very much, and was pleased that they were together.
He turned his attention back to the group of Eighth years, and scouted out familiar faces there. Parvati Patil was there, as were Lavender Brown, Seamus, Dean and Neville. Around eight Hufflepuffs, ten Ravenclaws, yet only three Slytherins. It made Harry wince.
“You alright, mate?” ROn asked, standing next to him. Harry nodded as Professor Sprout began to speak.
“Hello and welcome back to the first eighth year of Hogwarts we’ve had!” she began. “Since this is new, a few changes have been made to how things will go for you lot this year. First of all, and I do hate to be the bringer of bad news, but you no longer belong to your own houses.” Outcries came from the students then. Ron, Harry and Hermione all looked at one another in horror.
“No way! Malfoy was telling the truth!” ROn looked appalled.
“I do that, you know,” came a familiar voice. “People are always surprised.” Malfoy grinned, flashing his teeth.
“Shove off, Malfoy,” Ron said, pulling Harry away from him.
Most people had become quiet again.
“I understand that this is frustrating. However, there simply is not enough room in the house dormitories or on the long tables to accommodate you. What’s more, as you are all technically too old to be here, the houses are not permitted to take you. The school however, can. Therefore, there is a smaller table at the back of the great hall for all of you all to sit at-” groans ensued. “And,” Professor Sprout continued, raising her voice, “you will need to stay until the rest of the students have left to be lead to your new common room. Please, go on ahead, and enjoy the feast!”
“I wonder where the new common room is,” Dean said to the other Gryffin-- ex-Gryffindor boys Harry reminded himself. Seamus shook his head.
“No idea, but if they're taking us away from Gryffindor tower, it better be bloody amazing,” the short Irish boy said, disgruntled.
It was strange sitting with only 28 other people on their own table at the back of the massive great hall, and Harry wasn’t sure how we felt about it, while the sorting went by. It lacked the sense of belonging and community they had felt. It was secluded. Perhaps in time it would bring them closer together as their own group. In their own time. In their own good long time.
After the delicious feast, which was a quieter affair for the eighth years than ever before, Professor McGonagall rose from her seat in the center of the teachers’ long table.
“Welcome back to, or to Hogwarts. It is rather big news that the Triwizard Tournament will indeed be happening here again this year, as I’m sure many of you have heard. For those of you who do not know…” She went on to explain the tournament for everyone who hadn’t been there for the tragic previous affair. Professor McGonagall was severe, yet smiling. Harry didn’t think anyone would have made a better headmistress. “I am fully aware that it was hosted here four years ago, but in light of those events, it was decided that perhaps things could be turned around if we again, were the hosts. The schools of Beauxbatons and Durmstrang will be arriving in late October, and I’m sure you are all as excited as I am.
Furthermore, I would like to introduce our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Melissa Grove, alumni of Hogwarts, who was an Auror prior to this.” A woman who looked to be in her early fourties stood and smiled at the students to a round of applause. She looked kind, yet her eyes were hard.
“Also, replacing me in the role of Transfiguration teacher is Professor Ristus Maillen, who happens to be an alumni of Beauxbatons, whose students will be visiting us next month.”
Professor McGonagall went on to give first year's instructions to follow their prefects, and the students began to disperse.
It was an awkward affair, simply waiting for everyone to leave the Great Hall. There had been a fair bit of inter-house communication during the feast (not that it was inter-house anymore) but the former Slytherins had not yet said much to anyone but each other. No one had wanted to talk to them much, either. The Battle of Hogwarts, where one of them had been on the opposing side, and two of them had chosen not to fight, still seemed too recent to them.
The teachers, too, left the great hall, wishing their colleagues a good night, until only their Headmistress was left. She stepped down from the long table and strode down between the house tables to the back where the eighth years were just getting out from the benches.
“Well now, it is wonderful to see you all back. Eager to do your NEWT’s, I hope!” Many of them smiled back at her, some more eagerly than others. “I don’t want to keep you all up too late, so do follow me to your new dormitories.” They all tailed after her.
“Things are different, I must say, but oh, I’m so happy to be back!” Hermione said, as she grabbed Ron and Harry’s hands, a spring in her step.
They walked down the hall, towards the western end of the castle.
“You may all be of age,” Professor McGonagall said, “but you are still students, and I expect you all to behave in a reasonable manner. You have room assignments which you will be able to find on your dormitory doors. The password will be up to you to choose, but I expect you to change it each month, and update me when you do so. Harry Potter?” Harry’s head jerked up towards where Professor McGonagall was walking.
“What? Ah- I mean… yes, Professor?” McGonagall did not stop walking, but Harry got closer to the front of the small crowd.
“You are responsible for changing the password. You are the one able to. You will know what I mean. It is currently Eighty-seven Hats. I’m sure you’re familiar with that awful song that’s been playing everywhere this summer?” she said, addressing Harry, and shaking her head.
“Of course, Professor. I’ll… uh… I’ll do my best.”
“I should think so.”
The group hated outside a door.
“Professor…” Hermione began cautiously. “Isn’t his… the out of order girls’ toilet?” Professor McGonagall gave her a small smile.
“It is indeed. However, we have renovated, and our ghost Myrtle is no longer living here. YOur dormitories are just down the stairs. I’m sure you’ll be able to navigate them yourselves. Goodnight, eighth years,” she said before turning on her heel, and walking briskly away.
Harry started to feel dizzy.
“Oh no,” he said, taking a step back. “This can’t be, can it? Oh please, no.” He looked around and only Hermione and Ron knew what he was talking about.
“Come on, Harry. I’m sure it’s all different now. It’ll be fine. They wouldn’t have made it our dorm otherwise,” Ron said, clapping a hand on Harry’s shoulder, and steering him in through the door. It was a small room with two doorways on the opposite wall- a narrow one labelled ‘slide,’ and a much wider one labelled ‘stairs.’
“I don’t know about you lot, but only those three seem to know what this place is,” ex-Ravenclaw Terry Boot stated, nodding at Harry, Ron and Hermione. “Care to lead us? Or at least explain?”
Harry was vaguely aware of Hermione saying something about ‘later,’ but he had begun to feel thoroughly sick. Taking a deep breath, Harry pulled himself together and went straight to the doorway labelled ‘slide,’ letting himself in, and going down. The walls were no longer rocky and slimy and terrifyingly steep, but polished marble, wide, clean, and turning in a gentle spiral. He’d just reached the bottom when he was kicked in the back and sent sprawling across the stone floor.
“Do watch out for yourself, won’t you, Potter?” Malfoy drawled from behind him. Harry gritted his teeth and stood up, straightening his robes, as other eighth years arrived at the foot of the slide.
“That was fun!” squealed Lavender Brown. “I’m so glad we’ll be able to do that every day now!” Parvati eagerly agreed.
The corridor ahead of them was cold stone with flaming torches on either side and a large round iron door about ten metres down with twisting snakes on it. The Chamber of Secrets hadn’t changed enough for Harry’s liking. He gulped and walked towards it, very self conscious that he was moving so slowly. Hermione and ron appeared on one side of him, both sending reassuring nods in his direction.
“Oh do hurry up, Potter. I’d rather like to get to see our dormitories before tomorrow,” Draco spat from the back of the group. A few people scowled at him.
Harry had come to dislike snakes by forcing himself to. Over the years, he had practically taught himself Parseltongue, so he was consciously aware of being able to speak it, but with every passing year, Harry would continue to tell himself that he didn’t like snakes. Not that it was a problem now, of course. The password was in English. He was, however, already dreading having to change it. It was a part of Voldemort that felt like he was clinging onto it, although he knew this was no longer true.
“Eighty-seven Hats,” Harry said, and the snakes moved, swinging the door open and allowing everyone to step through into what had been the Chamber of Secrets not so long ago. Next to him, Ron cringed.
“We’ll have to do something about that password.” All 29 of them filed into the gigantic, open space to find it quite lovely. The floor and walls were still stone, but carpets covered the welcoming end. Armchairs and sofas lay round the fireplace which was massive, and in the place where Salazar Slytherin’s head had once stood. Harry swallowed hard and looked down the other end of the hall. It was cut off. The chamber had been made smaller to suit being a common room, and the echo effect had been taken away with spells, he assumed. The round passageways leading off from the chamber had remained, however, presumably leading to the dormitories.
Everyone around Harry sounded excited and interested in this new part of the castle, yet they had no idea what it really was. It sickened Harry a little that this would be done. This and the Triwizard Tournament both. It seemed that no one had any sensitivity about past events anymore. And so soon after the battle, as well.
“Let’s go find our dorms then,” Seamus yawned, walking down the round stone corridor on the left of the room. This was quickly discovered to be the girls’ side, yet Harry and Ron walked with Hermione until she stood in front of the door labelled with her name right above none other than Pansy Parkinson’s. Hermione sighed resolutely and turned to Ron.
“I’m sorry, darling,” Ron said, and kissed her. Hermione forced a smile.
“No, no worries. Good night, you two,” she said and disappeared into her room. On their way down to the other corridor to find their own room, they passed Pansy and gave one another a look that expressed their pity for and admiration of Hermione.
Fortunately for them, Harry and Ron were sharing a room. That room, however, also happened to be in the exact same place as where the Basilisk had backed Harry into a corner, almost killing him. He knew it was all over, but Harry still got nervous about almost every situation in case some creature or Death Eater or Voldemort himself happened to be there. It wasn’t something Harry felt he could simply get over. And yes, he understood how many others must feel as well, having lost loved ones, and going through traumatizing experiences, but it had been never ending for Harry. That constant twitching in his scar those past few years, and now it was gone. It was slightly disconcerting, to say the least.
But he didn’t complain. He couldn’t- Not when he was back in the best home he had known.
*
It was two in the morning, and Harry still couldn't sleep. These small dormitories were nice, with no more than three people to a room, They were similar to the ones they had left in furnishings, with wood-framed four poster beds and velvet hangings, although these curtains were a deep royal purple. Their wardrobes were of the same dark wood as their beds, and the floor was carpeted black. It was attractive, but too dark for Harry’s liking. Too sinister. Too… ‘Chamber of Secrets.’
Unable to bear it any longer, he threw his legs over the side of the bed and, grabbing the Marauders’ Map from his open trunk, tiptoed toward the common room. Again, a nice setting, but again, one Harry wasn’t too keen on. How large the room was didn’t exactly help either.
Thinking back to the end of year feast of his second year at Hogwarts, after being in this awful place and winning against Tom Riddle and the basilisk, and reuniting him and Ron with Hermione and Hagrid, he conjured up his Patronus charm- the glowing silver stag who walked back and forth in front of Harry, head held high, and taking slow, deliberate steps. Harry’s chest loosened a bit at the sight, and he looked down at the map in his hand.
“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” he muttered, and tapped the parchment. Unfolding the map, he looked around the castle. Everyone was asleep. But the Chamber of- the Eighth year dormitories, Harry corrected himself, were not on the map. They never had been.
It was frustrating. Now he wouldn’t know what everyone was up to unless… unless he himself decided to add on to the map. Not being able to sleep, Harry figured this was a good use of his time. This was a good place to start.
He did not sleep.
*
The next morning was hard- Harry was exhausted sitting at the back table in the great hall as time tables were delivered to all the students.
Ginny and Luna came to the back to find out if they would be in any of the same classes. Curiously enough, this was not the case.
“Oh. I thought it would be like when students have to repeat a year,” Luna said, a soft smile on her face. Ron shook his head, grinning bemusedly.
“Excuse me, we are not repeating a year. We are simply doing our final year now,” he clarified.
“Shame there’s no Quidditch this year, though,” Ginny brought up. “I might have been captain otherwise.” This brought Harry’s head up from the table for the first time. He looked slightly offended.
“Oh come on, Harry. It couldn't have been you this year. You’re not part of Gryffindor anymore,” she said. Harry slumped back down.
“Oi, you,” Ron said, pointing a finger at his sister. “We may not have the attire or the tower or the table, but in our hearts, we will always be Gryffindors!”
Harry looked at his timetable. It was almost the same as in sixth year, although a few teachers’ names had changed. It was a shame really, to lose Professor McGonagall as a teacher. He wondered as well if this Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would be any good. He reconsidered, thinking that a better question would be if she would last more than a year. What a strange occurrence that would be.
“Harry, are you alright? You’re exhausted. You look truly dreadful,” Hermione said. Harry sat up and tried to look aware of everything around him, blinking at the light.
“Honestly, Potter,” came Malfoy’s voice. “Did you not sleep at all last night because of the big bad dormitories?” He gave a scathing smirk and ran a hand through his white blonde hair before striding away. .
It wasn’t at all fair, thought Harry, that Malfoy could look so put together and pristine while he was feeling this awful. Harry glared after him.
“I’m fine,” he yawned at Hermione. “So are we just in eighth year classes then? That’ll be small. Nice though. But it means dealing with Malfoy more than I’d like.” Hermione shrugged.
“I know he’s a right pain, but there’s not many of us. And we’re all sharing a common room now, so we might as well try and get along, don’t you think?” Next to her, Ron choked on his toast, and looked at her as though she were suggesting that they invite the giant squid to live with them.
“Hermione, there is no ‘getting along’ when it comes to Malfoy. We saved him back in May, and that didn’t change his awful attitude, did it?” Hermione glared at him.
“Ronald you’re impossible. If we have to deal with him, I don’t want anyone getting into fights. That’s all I’m saying.” But Harry was more on Ron’s side with this one. Befriending Draco Malfoy was something he’d rejected when he was eleven, and that was not going to change.
He looked down the table to where Malfoy was sitting, talking with his two friends. In that environment, he didn’t look as unpleasant as he was. It irritated Harry, and he knew that there was no way to cut this rivalry away. Not how he saw it, anyhow.