Chapter Text
The days following the war were quiet. Too quiet. A wand dropping in charms often caused every head to turn and resulted in Neville muttering a hushed “sorry” every time.
After McGonagall invited the seventh year students back for a remedial eighth year, Harry expected a change in atmosphere at Hogwarts. But he didn’t expect this. He expected fighting between houses, constant cursing at Quidditch games (well, that already happens), and tenseness all around. What he did not anticipate, however, was Draco Malfoy’s return to Hogwarts.
“There will be no Houses for eighth year students,” McGonagall had explained. “The teachers at Hogwarts feel it best to promote unity among all students, regardless of previous house affiliation.”
It was a sly jab at the unruly reputation Slytherin had amassed following the War. Harry still wasn’t sure how to feel about it.
The dormitory system was also revamped; with the removal of houses came the destruction of house-specific living quarters. Students were permitted to choose one roommate of the same sex. They were then randomly assigned to one of four dormitories, which were just the old houses.
The colors from each dormitory were stripped from the walls. Any semblance of its history was torn down and replaced with neutral colors, but each dormitory’s past self was obvious. After all, what other House was positioned beneath the Black Lake?
That was the “House” Harry and Ron (who he picked) were assigned to, or, simply, “Dormitory Four.” Unfortunately, the pair weren’t quite lucky; Ginny and Hermione had chosen each other, but were instead placed in Dormitory Three, Hufflepuff’s old house.
“I can’t believe we’re bloody Slytherins,” complained Ron. “Like, I know we’re technically not Slytherins, but it’s hard not to feel like it when you’re goddamn 500 meters underwater.”
“Fairs,” Harry said, passing him the tea. With the abolishment of the House system, students were now permitted to sit anywhere in the dining hall. At least they had that.
Hermione exhibited an equally defeated look. “We’ve still got meals together. And it’s not like we’re banished from entering other dormitories. Besides,” she said hushedly, “I think you’ve got another problem on your hands.”
“Huh? What are you looking at me for?” replied Harry with knitted eyebrows. Slowly, he followed Hermione’s gaze a few tables over. There, with his gang of Slytherins was Draco Malfoy. He was chattering with Parkinson, Nott, and Zabini with active hands. God, what did he look so confident for?
“After everything he did,” muttered Ginny, “You’d think he’d have some shame.”
“McGonagall explicitly told us not to discuss the war,” replied Hermione, shaking her head. “Ron, could you pass the scones? Thanks.”
Ginny certainly wasn’t pleased with Hermione’s scolding. “Fine, but you’ve got to admit, he’s got some nerve. Anyway, I can’t deal with all this censorship stuff. Couldn’t talk about anything during the war, can’t talk about anything after…”
“Oh that’s the least of it!” chimed in Luna Lovegood. “Daddy says they’re hammering down on the Quibbler even more than before the war. Got a fine of fifty Galleons about a week back for calling the Lestranges a load of sickle toads.”
Luna remained in Ravenclaw’s old dormitory following the switch, otherwise known as Dormitory One. Following the war, Harry had grown even closer with her. They shared a similar fate in the Malfoys’ Manor, but even still, Harry couldn’t begin to fathom the torture she’d undergone there. And he didn’t dare yet ask.
“And Malfoy is…”
“--back in Dormitory Four. You know, hunkered down in Slytherin's old fort.”
“How fitting,” said Ginny. “And condolences in advance, Harry and Ron.”
“Piss off in advance!” Ron jabbed.
Classes continued as normally as they could. Most students were battling post-war trauma and were simply trying to finish their NEWTs, Harry included. He was also glad to have Slughorn as his Potions professor once more.
Huddled in the corner of every class was Malfoy’s gang of mischief. Well, they didn’t exactly act out, but they were clearly isolated from the other students. Nobody paid much mind to them other than the teachers, who consistently berated them for forgotten homework and reckless jinxes.
The dismantling of the Houses also meant that Harry spent much less time in class with Ron and Hermione. All classes were randomized and less cliquey. Also, the same seemed to be true for Malfoy’s group, with Malfoy, Parkinson, Nott, and Zabini often separated.
“I think this is a nice learning exercise,” commented Hermione.
“How?” cried Ron, who was struggling to formulate three more inches for Potions.
“Well, for starters,” said Hermione, who was finishing up her fourth extra inch, “It teaches you to be less reliant on your friends. And maybe even make some new ones!”
“New friends in eighth year, huh? Sounds like a dream and an imagination wrapped into one big ball of fuzz,” said Harry. “Couldn’t force me to mingle with Hogwarts’ depressive students if you tried.”
And it was true. There was no more house unity. No more Quidditch games and certainly no more of Gryffindor’s famous post-exam parties.
“Well, I’ve got to get going,” Hermione stated, pulling on her book bag. “I have a meeting with the kitchen’s house elves. It’s a L.O.V.E thing,” she clarified when both Ron and Harry gave her a puzzled look.
“Oh, come on! L.O.V.E: Liberation of Vulnerable Elves. Haven’t you seen them in the kitchens? They look absolutely miserable!”
“She’s gone bloody crazy,” Ron said after Hermione left the library. “And just when I thought we were finally done with S.P.E.W. Well, what are we supposed to do now? Do you reckon you could check my work?”
Harry wasn’t exactly the star student in Potions that Slughorn made him out to be, but he could certainly try his hardest. “Sure, mate! Let me get a look.”
That’s when a group of first years came up to them. They stared at Harry for a bit, marveling. Then the leader spoke first. “I can’t believe it’s really you! Thank you for everything, you really are our hero, Harry Potter.” Many resounding affirmations followed. “Yeah!” “Yes!”
Harry was a bit flustered with all the newfound attention he was receiving following the war. Of course, defeating Voldemort was his biggest feat yet, but the praise would still catch him off guard. Also, his best mate was sitting right beside him, and Harry could tell Ron was a bit off-put.
“Thanks guys. Don’t forget about the optional Defense Against the Dark Arts seminars in the Room of Requirement, every Wednesday. I trust your professors have made you aware?” They nodded. “Well then, off you go!”
“Seminars?” asked Ron.
“Yeah. I asked McGonagall if I could continue doing them, you know, legally this time. She gave me the green light.”
“Don’t get me wrong--I’m happy for you. Just didn’t know that’s what you were doing, that’s all.”
“I knew I could always count on my best mate,” replied Harry, patting Ron thickly on the shoulder. “Well, what do you think?” he stated, showing Ron the three lines of what Harry could only describe as perfectly articulated Potions mastery on paper.
“Bloody bollocks, it’s amazing!”
And that was that. Hermione now led L.O.V.E: Liberation of Vulnerable Elves; Harry continued to host Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons in the Room of Requirement; and Ron was just as in love with Hermione as ever.
The biggest problem with sharing a dormitory with Malfoy was sharing a dormitory with Malfoy. Sure, they didn’t sleep in the same room (he had Ron to thank for that), but his cursed presence made performing everyday tasks near impossible.
For example, Harry was a frequent early riser. He’d been that way since first year when he made the Gryffindor Quidditch team and needed to wake up early to practice. But so was Malfoy; they both raced for the shower, and each morning they awoke earlier than the last. Harry had to call quits when they’d gotten as far back as 5:00 AM!
“Potter, you wanted to talk?” said Malfoy one evening after Harry finally had enough.
Thankfully enough, Malfoy had agreed to speak with him. Harry wasn’t sure where Malfoy stood, considering Pansy still stuck her tongue out at him on his way to class everyday. Ron and Hermione confessed to him that they experienced the same treatment.
“Yes. It’s about your sleeping habits.” Or rather lack of, thought Harry absentmindedly.
“Hmm? What about them?” he drawled.
“Oh, cut the crap Malfoy! I know you’re just trying to one up me. Look,” Harry sighed. “I just want to practice flying before class every morning.”
Draco snickered a half-mean laugh. It almost felt like they were back in second year, taunting the other with useless jabs. Almost. Because in the backdrop lay a forbidden discussion; a topic that neither dared to cross but both knew existed.
“About that,” Malfoy said. “I’ve conferred with McGonagall as well as the other teachers; they’re willing to start up Quidditch again. It won’t be anything crazy like before, but…”
“Are you lying?”
“What? No,” Malfoy said, almost taken aback. “Well, I don’t have to prove anything to you. All is to say, I need the showers just as much as you. I’m flying whether you like it or not.”
After that, they both agreed to wake up at 6:00 A.M. to practice their flyings, on separate ends of the Quidditch field of course. They’d alternate each day on who takes the first shower. This was the first step to making amends, Harry supposed.
“It’s not that I hate him,” Harry confided in Luna the same day during Transfiguration. “It’s just weird, you know, to have a conversation after everything.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t think he exactly hates you either. He’s more closed off, of course. Maybe over time you could even become friends,” she replied, and Harry suddenly remembered Hermione’s words.
“No way! He’s only friendly with me because he has to be. I wonder what he’s plotting next. Maybe he’s making a Polyjuice Potion and that’s why he's been so kind to Slughorn lately.”
“Or maybe he’s just reformed.”
Harry scoffed. “Fat chance.”
“Potter!” scolded McGonagall. “Focus on your readings! No chit chat.”
“Sorry,” Harry said, flushing.
The best part about the whole “no Houses” thing was that teachers could no longer take away House points for misbehavior. The worst part was that points could also no longer be awarded. Honestly, it was probably more negative overall because detentions were given much more frequently than before to replace the points system.
Either way, Harry’s behavior improved significantly this year, at least according to McGonagall. He was half-embarrassed by the praise, being in earshot of his friends, but accepted it nonetheless.
Harry pondered whether he’d become a better student because of the war or because he shared fewer classes with Ron and Hermione. Probably a mix of both, he settled on. And it was true: he received higher marks and even joined Hermione in scolding Ron for starting his papers last minute.
He, Luna, and Ginny were nestled in the library studying for their first quiz in History of Magic. “Become a bit of an academic?” Ginny joked with him. “Didn’t know that was something you could do.”
“Hey, that’s not fair! I got an Outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts in fifth year.”
“Hmm. I guess,” she responded, biting into a freakishly yellow apple. “Yuck, way too sour.”
Luna’s eyes widened and she clasped her hands together. “I have a bit of a conspiracy theory, but you have to hear me out.”
Ginny nodded. “Alright, what is it, Loony? Luna,” she corrected herself before Luna could say anything.
“Well, ever since the… the war,” she repeated, this time much quieter. “Haven’t you noticed? The food they’ve been serving us. It tastes funny; much less to go around, too.”
Harry examined the half-bitten apple in Ginny’s hand. “Or maybe that’s just Hermione’s L.O.V.E efforts talking.”
“Ha ha, very funny Potter,” Ginny imitated, giving a go at her best Malfoy impression.
“Gold star for that, I’d say!” Luna exclaimed.
“Still, it is unnerving,” agreed Ginny. “I’d ask the Headmistress, but I doubt she’ll tell us much. Oh, maybe Professor Sprout knows!”
Luna’s words lingered in the back of Harry’s mind for the upcoming days. The constant fear of war never really went away, and its effects always lingered. So while Harry devoted his efforts to becoming an academic, per Ginny’s words, he remained on edge. What kept him at rest was flying.
He and Malfoy successfully managed to piece together a rather peaceful routine of avoiding each other on the field every morning. He wanted to ask Malfoy when this whole Quidditch-returning-thing was happening, but he felt it best not to. Truthfully, he’d been ignoring everything Malfoy related for weeks, which proved effective in keeping him sane.
Finally, one rainy evening, exactly one month since the school’s reopening came a breakthrough: Quidditch had returned to Hogwarts. And each dormitory had their own team.