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Graduation looked different this year. It was a much larger affair than it was supposed to be, with 90 graduates instead of the 52 that had been sorted together as first-years. Actually, it was closer to the average size of a pre-war graduating class, but nearly double what it ought to have been. The staff had pondered, for a while, about separating the ceremonies, but adding one more thing to the calendar of events was off the table. This close to the end of the year, and with about a third of the advisable number of teachers and staff members, it seemed nearly impossible to close out the year with the usual amount of events, meetings, and exams, let alone add another.
So, the graduating classes of 1998 and 1999 would have to share their Hogwarts Graduation, but it didn’t seem they minded much, most of them were just happy they’d made it out.
And they had already done quite well for themselves as a class. Many had jobs or further training lined up before the semester closed, others had money saved and travel plans made to see something of the world, and yet others of them had relationships and marriage on their minds. Whatever their future plans were, the staff and teachers of Hogwarts were more than happy to see them off the grounds and onto their chosen pathways. Both classes had given them nothing but trouble, for too many years now. They were glad to see the backs of them… or at least that’s what they were trying to convince themselves of.
The truth was that many of the professors who had been through the war and final battle at Hogwarts were quite sorry to see them go. Not because they weren’t ready to join the world. Not because it wasn’t for the best. Simply because they had all grown quite attached to them. Though they would never admit that.
Professor Flitwick was undoubtedly relieved to see that both Weasleys had flown through their Charms NEWTs, and unsurprised to see that Miss Granger had scored highest in the class. He was glad that his days of giving those red-headed troublemakers almost weekly detentions were through, and that he wouldn’t have as many interruptions from his favorite frizzy-haired brainiac. All in all, he was proud of them, but glad they were going. Or at least that’s what he would say out loud. In all honesty, just as he had with the twin Weasleys, years ago, he would miss the hair-brained schemes, the riotous laughter, the astoundingly skillful and devilishly clever applications of their charms knowledge. As for Miss Granger, it was the intellectual challenge she presented, especially in the first class of the day when he was barely awake enough to understand her questions let alone answer them, that he would miss. And not just those four, Mr. Longbottom, Miss Patil, Miss Abbott, of course, Mr Potter, and many other classmates of theirs would leave a mark, and a bit of a blank in their wake.
Professor Sprout, glad as she was to be rid of the troublesome, tiring, overzealous, eighth years, as well as the over-confident, irksome, seventh years, might just miss a few things about them. Mr. Longbottom, of course, with his depth of knowledge and curiosity in her favorite subject, was one she wasn’t entirely happy to see leave. He’d made things interesting for sure, especially with that pungent Mimbulous Mimbletonia. Miss Lovegood too, though she seemed to be a bit air-headed, was sharper than most anyone gave her credit for, and not nearly so shy as she seemed, she’d be one to watch out for. Mr. Thomas was always a delight, and a skillful artist who rendered plants in such detail that she had often allowed him in the greenhouses unsupervised to access artistic inspiration, and he’d only used that to let the rest of the class in for a rave one time, she might miss him just a little. And of course, they weren’t the only ones, that troublesome trio, the charming Miss Chang, the delightful Patil twins, it was a class full of good eggs. Not that she would ever say that to any of them, it would go right to their heads and spoil the lot of them.
Professor Slughorn had only known these students for a few years of their Hogwarts careers, but that had been more than enough for him. Of course, he was very proud of all of them, especially his NEWT students who had all managed passing grades in their examinations, but he wasn’t going to miss them. Nor did he think he’d miss Hogwarts on the whole. Even if he had chosen to stay at the beginning of the year, and even if he’d thought that he’d gotten a second wind for teaching, this graduating class had reminded him just why he’d retired the first time. Between Mr. Malfoy’s dramatics, Mr. Weasley’s distractions, Miss Granger’s didacticism, and Miss Patil’s derailments, it had been a miracle to make it through any class period with his wits intact. Still, he wished them all the best, and of course, had made sure he could add them to any of his future ‘Slug Club’ invitation lists. But so far as the school went, he wouldn’t be sorry to see the backs of them, nor to follow them out the gates at the end of the summer. They were graduating on to bigger and better things, and he was just hoping to retire back to a quieter life.
Madam Pomfrey wasn’t sorry to see this class go, not in the least. Pleased as punch that they’d all made it through, and proud of them and all that, but not sorry in the least that she’d be done with Miss Chang’s never-ending ailments, Or Mr. Potter’s habit of choosing dangerous pastimes, or Miss Patil’s penchant for theoretical discussion, or any of the other exhausting habits of their classmates. It was a rowdy group of troublemakers, miscreants, scoundrels, misfits, and firebrands, the place would seem…quiet without them. Peaceful - That’s the word. Yes, damn near peaceful without their, occasionally amusing, rabblerousing. Miss. Weasley’s dramatic impromptu speeches whenever she was discovered in misdoings. Miss Granger’s increasingly creative, and increasingly unbelievable, excuses as even she leaned into her trouble-making penchant. Miss Lovegood’s perpetual failings at keeping a straight face when she was part of the creative team behind a particularly shining example of a practical joke. All of them, finally, out of their hair and out of the castle, no longer messing up their lives… it was almost too bad they had to go.
Professor McGonagall has a habit of growing attached to the students in her care, but this year it was different. She was quite glad to shove these ‘eighth’ year students right out of the gate. She’d covered more detentions that year than she did in any two normal years combined. (Of course, she might not have had to if she’d stopped giving them detention for everything - just because she was still sour about their stupid stunts of the year before.) She was happy to see them go. Of course, it would never be the same without them - but she could say that about any of her graduating classes, this class wasn’t special. Sure, they helped save the world - so what? Yes, the whole class had stepped up that year to help take care of younger students when the staff was overrun - and? Of course, they had all worked very hard to ensure that they could meet the standard of Hogwarts Graduation - as they should. And maybe they had been treating their fellow-combatants-turned-back-to-Professors with a kind of respectful camaraderie - that was to be expected from such a unique class. None of that meant that Minerva was going to miss them when they were gone. So what of the secret in-jokes that only the eighth and some of the seventh years could understand. Nevermind the way they looked at her as if they knew something the others didn’t. She wouldn’t miss the way they called her almost anything but Professor, ranging from “General” to “Minnie” and beyond. They were just like any other troublesome class she had said goodbye to… Secretly, very hard to say goodbye to.
Yes, Graduation was a bit different that year.
It was Headmistress McGonagall’s first year to say the words that had ended every graduation for as long as she could remember (and that was a very long time) - “Graduates, you entered this hall for the first time seven years ago, and became students of this storied and proud institution, and when you leave these grounds you take with you the knowledge you have worked hard to obtain, the skills you have honed and proven, the values you have nurtured, and the honor of a Hogwarts education. Congratulations to you all, for as of this moment, you have become alumni of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”
And then it was time to go. When the time came for them to say their final goodbyes to Hogwarts, the new Alumni found that the younger students were sent off first and it was just the graduates and their professors left as they assembled in the entrance hall, preparing themselves to go away from home.
And their professors, tired as they all seemed to be, shone with pride as they shook the hands of every graduate and wished them all the very best as they passed through the great oak doors. They clambered aboard the boats which were to take them away from the school the way they had first arrived to it. And everyone stole glances back at that castle that seemed to glitter in the sunlight as they rode away from it into the start of the rest of their lives.
“I’m going to miss the place,” Hermione said, smiling halfheartedly at Harry and Ron, who shared the boat with her.
“So am I,” Harry agreed readily, though he hadn’t wanted to say it first. “This is the first time I’ve left someplace that felt like home.”
“Yeah well, don’t tell Mum that,” Ron answered with a smirk, lightening the mood, “She’ll be distraught if she knew that our house didn’t feel like home.”
The boat beside theirs held Ginny and Luna, who had drawn as close to theirs as they could and now spoke to them across the water. “Gonna be odd not coming back, huh?” Ginny asked, clearly they’d been having the same conversation.
Dean, Seamus, and Neville drew up on their other side. “What’s this not coming back nonsense?” Neville asked, “I’ll be back for sure, and you’re all going to have to come and visit my greenhouses sometimes.”
They all laughed and agreed that they would. “And Merlin knows we’ll find some kind of excuse to come back and mess with the professors again,” Dean said with a grin, “I know McGonagall said she wouldn’t miss us, but little does she know that’s because we won’t give her a chance to.”
“Here here,” Harry agreed, “Can’t let them have it easy, after all.”
“They wouldn’t know what to do with a break,” Luna said with a smile, “And I’d hate for them to be bored.”
“Which is why I’m so glad we got the griffin to let us into McGonagall’s office when she wasn’t there,” Hermione said with a sly grin, nodding at Harry.
“Yeah, and we managed just fine with Flitwick's. I don't think he had any precautions up at all,” Ron laughed, high-fiving Luna across the water.
“Professor Sprout’s door was practically left open,” Neville confirmed with a sneaky smile.
“Slughorn’s was too easy,” Seamus said confidently, with Dean nodding along.
“And Madam Pomfrey’s was a piece of cake,” Ginny agreed as they all turned back again, listening and watching the castle, hoping they hadn’t wasted all those WWW fireworks.
The time came and from the headteacher’s tower, there rose a Lion made of sparks, that leapt through the sky. The students in the boats all shouted and laughed, pointing and gasping as the lion was joined by an Eagle that rose from the fifth floor just below Ravenclaw Tower soaring above the turrets and rooftops.
The riot continued as a badger came scampering up through the air from near the greenhouses, and a snake slithered its way from the lowest windows of the school. The brightly coloured creatures, which even stood out against the relatively light sky, were lastly joined by a banner that curled its way out of the front doors and swirled up into the air before unfurling like a ribbon over the school and the creatures that settled into their places on the crest. It read HOGWARTS FOREVER and the graduating class of 1999 all cheered and shouted the phrase until it echoed across the lake and through the grounds. That trouble-making group of graduates tried not to congratulate themselves too much, so as not to let on just who had planned the whole show but as their boats gently bumped into shore, and as the creatures began to dance through the air again, they shared sneaky smiles and a few high-fives amongst themselves. It was truly some of their best work. It was a shame they’d only had this year to intentionally create trouble and practical jokes, or they might have gotten some even better ones put together through the years. As it stood, they were pretty proud of this one.