Adult-FanFiction.org : Harry Potter

Darkness Within The Light	By : crimson96 Category: Harry Potter > Slash - Male/Male > Harry/Draco Views: 8759 -:- Recommendations : 1 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 39
- 40
- 41
CHAPTER 40: No Longer Will We Cower
White candles dotted the black canvas sky overhead as the students stood in line waiting for their names to be called. The young boy gazed upward in awe at the mystique above him, while other young girls and boys around him chatted nervously. He focused beyond the shimmering candles, staring at a cluster of stars shining in the distance.
“Perseus,” the young boy whispered. Feeling a small push at his back, the young boy stepped forward without looking away from the celestial heaven. “The hero,” he said, bringing his hand up and tracing the outline of the stars above him.
A thunderous sound shook the room, causing the young boy to scan the sky above for the thunderclap and bringing him back to the present. He yanked his hand from above him, ignoring a few snickers from the people around him. The booming applause quieted as a young girl jumped out of the chair and gaily walked to the table, where her new house members stood to greet her.
“Shacklebolt, Kingsley,” the old woman in the black, pointed hat called out. The young boy took a few steps forward, slightly shaking with nervous anticipation. Halfway to the chair, he gazed back up at the night sky. He smiled as the stars twinkled, renewing his confidence, and he continued toward the chair and the old hat.
“It’s quite alright, son.” The old woman smiled at him as he approached. “There’s nothing to be nervous about. Take your seat.” She ushered him into the chair, lightly patting his small shoulder.
He sat in the chair, gazing out at the room. Having everyone staring at him was almost too much. His hands gripped the edges of the wooden chair, and found the small grooves where past students had clawed their fingernails into the same wood. Tilting his head back one last time, the young boy glanced back into the sky above and found his comfort before the world turned to black.
The hero.
“The hero, you say?” A voice whispered into his ears from the darkness. “My, yes, you can be the hero, but you have so much more. Bravery, courage, daring, intelligent, and generosity--they are all there. Hmm…you have the ability to avoid danger, and your mind is strong...very strong indeed. But, you are also curious. You want to know how and why everything is as it is. You want to know about the unknown. I sense much cunning about you, young man, and a desire to be powerful. It’s all in there for you to decide. So many decisions, so many choices, so many possibilities. Will you be heroic or cerebral? Perhaps something more, or something less.”
“Hero, please,” the young boy pleaded, closing his eyes to the voice.
“A hero you will be.” The voice paused. “For whom, and for which cause, will be your destiny and your downfall. Your future will be…”
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“Kingsley.” The voice echoed in the darkness. “Shacklebolt.”
“The hero.” A deep voice whispered softly. Bright flashes of light danced from above, while images of stars, candles, darkness, and innocence all flooded back.
“Minister.”
“Yes?” Kingsley said, breaking his memories free from the mixture of darkness and the exploding nova of starlight. Rubbing his eyes, Kingsley blinked his eyes a few times and then turned to the large mountain of a man beside him.
“I said it’s amazing isn’t it?” Hagrid asked, waving a frying-pan sized hand at the sky above. “No matter how many times I see it, it always manages to get me right there.” He thumped his chest with his fist, sniffled, and blew loudly into his oversized handkerchief.
“Yes, it is Hagrid,” Kingsley replied, looking up at the starry sky in the Great Hall. His memory lingered for a moment more while he looked out at the four tables and saw himself as an eleven-year-old boy, many years ago.
“Hello, Minister.” A familiar voice spoke as Kingsley silently said goodbye to the memory. Turning in his chair, Kingsley was greeted by a middle-aged man dressed in patched-up ceremonial robes. “It’s nice of you to be here tonight.”
He smiled, rising from his chair, and taking the man’s hand in a firm grasp. “Arthur,” he replied, pumping the man’s hand and patting him across shoulder. “I’m so pleased for you, and for your family.”
A small twitch toyed with Arthur’s lips. “Thank you, Minister.” He replied, squeezing the man’s hand as hard as he could before letting go. “I do hope that my sudden notice at the Ministry wasn’t too rash?”
Kingsley waved a large hand in front of his face, as if lazily swatting at a fly. “Think nothing of it, Arthur. I know that when opportunities such as this come along, it’s difficult to say ‘no’,” Kingsley said, stretching his hands outward.
“So true, Minister,” Arthur replied. “I was very surprised that the headmistress selected me of all people.”
The Minister smiled. “Well, you do have a knack for that.” He took his seat once again, and glanced back over his shoulder. “Don’t worry, Arthur.”
“W-worry, sir?” Arthur mumbled, taking his glasses off and wiping them with the edge of his robe.
“We’ve known one another for a long time. I know how you are, Arthur.”
“I don’t follow, Minister.”
“I’m fine with you leaving your post at the Ministry. Whatever you have to do to help better care for your family, I am all for. You made the right choice, for your family’s greater good, old friend.” Kingsley turned in his chair, leaving Arthur Weasley there to interpret the words.
The new headmistress of Hogwarts walked up the steps to the staff table and sat down to Kingsley’s right. “Thank you, Minister, for coming tonight.”
“Minerva, I wouldn’t have missed this night for anything,” he smiled, looking past the headmistress and at the small piece of parchment that sat in the unoccupied chair.
“Of course, you do remember how the process will go tonight?” McGonagall asked, drawing Kingsley’s focus away from the name on the parchment.
“Yes, I’m pretty sure that it hasn’t changed much through the years. Missing someone, are we?” He nodded toward the empty staff chair.
“You know the answer to that, Minister,” she replied tartly. Quickly, she forced a half-smile upon her face. “Now, do you wish to say a few words tonight, Minister?”
Kingsley took a long drink from the glass that was in front of him. He finished the drink in the glass, sat the empty container down, and watched as it filled again. He smiled at the glass. “Yes, I would like to say a few words tonight. I think it would be appropriate.”
He watched as McGonagall nodded. “Very well. After the feast, I shall say a few words and introduce you. The floor will then be yours. Now, please excuse me, I must go and wait for the first years outside.”
Kingsley watched as she exited. He then turned his attention up to the ceiling of the Great Hall. Looking past the hundreds of candles that hovered above them, he stared at the black sky, just as he had many years ago as a young boy. “The hero,” he said, as the bright full moon shined through the passing clouds.
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“It looks exactly the same,” Ron said, opening the window of the carriage, and gazing at the glowing lights of Hogwarts Castle.
“Of course it does, Ron,” Hermione said, turning around in her seat and looking at him. “You didn’t think that they would change anything, did you?”
Ron’s brow furrowed as he stared at the castle. “I dunno. I thought that they might do something a little bit different.”
“Don’t be silly,” she replied, letting her fingers glide across his. “Though I’m amazed that they were able to repair everything and still be able to open as quickly as they have.”
“Yeah,” Ron said. “I suppose you’re right, ‘Mione. What do you think, Harry?”
Harry sat silently and swayed with the motion of the thestral-driven carriage. He stared at the looming figure of Hogwarts Castle, while haunting memories erupted in his mind. The images from his nightmares over the summer rushed to the front of his mind, combined with what he recalled from the battle at Hogwarts.
“Harry?” Hermione called, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“It’s all different now. It’s not the same anymore,” Harry said. He exhaled deeply, breaking his gaze away from the castle and looking back at his friends.   “It’s like part of me needs to be here, but another part of me doesn’t.”
“Oh, Harry,” Hermione replied, placing her hand over his. “I know it’s difficult for all of us. We all must continue and go forward. It’s what they would want us to do.”
“I know. But, it’s not fair that so many had to die, and now it’s as if nothing ever happened here.” Harry took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose. He placed his glasses back on and refocused his eyes on Ron and Hermione. “It’s like re-opening an old wound.”
“Maybe our old wounds teach us something. They remind us of what we’ve overcome.” Hermione rubbed the hem of her robe between her fingers. “Maybe it was fate’s plan for us to be here, to pick up where the others left off. That was their sacrifice for us, and for generations yet to come.”
Harry looked away from Hermione, stealing a glance at the castle, while allowing the words to soak into his brain. “Fate’s plan.” The words escaped his lips louder than what he had anticipated.
“Yes,” Hermione answered. “Just like with you and Voldemort. Harry, please don’t brood on too much about it all. We have a second chance that many people will not get.”
Harry looked up from his own thoughts and gazed at his two best friends. “You’re right Hermione. It’s just so many memories that it’s hard not to think about them.” He exhaled deeply, his breath fogging the window as he looked out at the approaching grounds. He wiped the moisture away with the sleeve of his robe. “I will admit that I have missed this place. It feels almost like home.”
“Yeah, and with better fortifications now,” Ron piped in. “That’s what Dad said. The Ministry worked around the clock for the whole summer to restore Hogwarts.”
“But without Dumbledore…” Harry began.
“Harry,” Hermione interrupted, “Dumbledore will always be a part of Hogwarts.” She bit her lower lip before continuing. “Harry, please remember the reason why you came back to Hogwarts?”
The road to truths.
“Yeah, I know why I’m returning.” Harry gazed back out the window at the castle.
“Well, at least it will be more comfortable sleeping in a warm bed and eating all of that good food. It beats sleeping out in the middle of the forest,” Ron said, smiling.
“Ronald Weasley, don’t you do go and take advantage of the house elves!” Hermione punched him in his arm. “Just because those poor things are so generous and don’t know how to say ‘no’.”
“Alright. Easy, ‘Mione.” He grabbed her fists and softly kissed her hands. “I promise you that I won’t raid the kitchens, like Fred and George did.”
“Ok, Ron. But, if you do, remember the birds. That’s all that I am saying,” Hermione chided, pulling her hands free from Ron and crossing her arms.
“Hermione, that’s not fair!” Ron shouted.
“All’s fair in love, war, and S.P.E.W.,” Hermione sassed, smiling at Ron. She turned her attention toward Harry. “Who do you think McGonagall found to teach this year?”
Harry exhaled deeply as the carriage stopped at the entrance courtyard. “Who knows?” He looked ahead at the large oak doors that opened, filling the courtyard with the light from inside. “Only one way to find out,” Harry said, opening the door of the carriage and stepping onto the grounds.
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As he stepped over the threshold, the world seemed to transform around Harry. No longer did he see the piles of rubble surrounding the Entrance Hall, nor the dead bodies of Hogwarts students and Death Eaters. The dust that had filled the air, the cries of the wounded, the screaming of terror, had all faded away, replaced by a new, fresh smell and sensation. Bright, white candles suspended in mid-air illuminated every inch of the Entrance Hall, giving the picture frames, the marble staircase, the house points hour glasses, and even the flagstone floor an iridescent shine.
“Bloody hell!” Ron said, coming to stop beside Harry, mesmerized at the scene before him. “They really did clean the place up.”
They stood and watched as ghosts passed through the walls of the room, happily greeting many of the returning students. All of the portraits on the walls were alive with activity as the occupants scrambled to look at the new students and to exchange greetings with familiar faces, welcoming them all back to Hogwarts.
“Look!” Ron shouted, pointing up toward the marble staircase. “There’s Peeves.”
“Come on, both of you,” Hermione said, pushing both young men in their lower backs, before stopping to look up. “Is that really Peeves?”
Upon hearing his name, the ghost swooped down toward the trio, cackling madly. “Wee little Potter isn’t so wee and little anymore.” The ghost stopped to float above the students. “We all owe you our many thanks, Harry Potter. For if not for your sacrifice, Hogwarts would be no more.” The ghost tugged at the bowtie that was draped around his neck.
Harry fidgeted on the spot, not knowing exactly what his response would be. “You’re welcome,” Harry muttered. The simple comment had caused the grisly images from the battle to resurface in his mind. Harry closed his eyes while a chill trickled down his spine.
“Peeves, why are you wearing the bowtie?” Ron asked, unaware of Harry’s plight.
Hermione grabbed Harry’s and Ron’s arms and led them into the Great Hall, as she called back to the ghost. “Sorry, Peeves! We can’t be late for the Start of Term Feast.”
“Hermione, what was that about?” Ron asked as the trio walked toward the Gryffindor table.
“Honestly, Ron, didn’t you notice Harry?” She hissed.
“Thanks, Hermione, but I’ll be alright,” Harry said, bringing his eyes to meet hers. “Let’s just get through all of this, and maybe tomorrow things will be better.”
“Right, mate!” Ron said, lightly slapping Harry’s back. “You said it. I’m bloody starved!”
“Boys, honestly!” Hermione said, sighing loudly and rolling her eyes.
The trio sat down at the Gryffindor table. Many of their friends came over to chat and shake hands with them. Quick stories about their summer adventures were exchanged as other members of the DA crossed the room and visited the Gryffindor table. Harry melted into himself as others talked on about their summers. He nodded and smiled when necessary, allowing Ron and Hermione to handle most of the speaking, and was relieved when the topic of Draco Malfoy did not come up in the conversation.
As he began to tire of the monotonous drone from his friends, Harry’s gaze lazily drifted toward the staff table. His eyes scanned the table, noting the familiar faces of Professor Flitwick and Madame Pomfrey. His vision drifted to an old man who looked as if he was hardly awake. White wisps of hair barely covered the patches of skin around his ears, and his loose jowls gave him a saggy appearance. Sitting next to this droopy old man was a woman with a loud violet, flowery robe. Her bright blonde hair stood at attention, not a single strand moving as the woman talked animatedly to the wizard sitting next to her. Her face was adorned with hues of rouge and magenta, while her eyelids were colored in shades of lilac. Her long black eyelashes fluttered as if they were butterfly wings. Multiple gold and silver necklaces hung around her neck, glittering against the bright color of her robe.
The man sitting next to this clownish woman was dressed in all black. His silver hair was pulled back into a ponytail that complimented his face. There was something oddly familiar about the man. Harry ignored his own name as he journeyed into his thoughts and focused upon the man’s face. Even though the man was quite old, he still had a somewhat youthful and aristocratic look. Harry continued to stare at the man, but recoiled at the sight of a silver and black-furred animal that had climbed upon the man’s shoulder and nestled against his cheek.
“It’s a giant rat!” Harry heard a voice behind him. “Bloody hell, look at the size of that thing! And he’s feeding it!” Ron hissed as the conversation about their summer activities came to an abrupt halt. “What is it?” Ron asked.
Harry knew from the visits to the Muggle zoo exactly what kind of an animal it was, though he also remembered hearing the zookeeper talk about how this animal did not make for a good pet. “It’s an opossum,” Harry stated, turning around to look at the gaping faces of the people at their table. “Marsupials that are usually found in North America, but I’ve seen them at the Muggle zoos in London.”
“How hideous,” Harry heard, as one of the girls behind him gasped.
“Actually, opossums are very affectionate, intelligent animals,” Hermione said.
“I still say it looks like a bloody rat,” Ron said. “Look at those teeth, Hermione. How smart and cuddly does that thing look if it bit you?”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Ron. Professor McGonagall wouldn’t allow a creature inside of Hogwarts if she thought it was a threat to anyone,” Hermione said.
“Oh yeah, remember Fluffy?”
“Quiet, both of you,” Harry snapped, sending most of the occupants from the other houses back to their own tables.
“What’s wrong with you, Harry?” Ron asked, playfully shoving at Harry’s arm.
“That,” Harry answered. He turned around to face Ron and Hermione while jerking his thumb over his shoulder. “Why is the Minister of Magic here?” Harry watched as both of his friends’ mouths opened in surprise. “Well?” He asked, folding his arms across his chest. “Remember what it was like the last time the Ministry was at Hogwarts?” He held up his hand in front of them so that they could read the faint outlines of the words that were permanently etched onto the back of his hand.
Hermione shook her head, quickly regaining her composure. “I’m sure it’s nothing, Harry. The Ministry has no reason to be involved at Hogwarts now.”
Harry watched as she quickly glanced back at the staff table, and then back into his face. “Are you so sure, Hermione?”
“Of course.” She replied, though her fingers belied her full confidence as they played with the tip of her robe. “I’m sure he’s just here for the Start-of-Term-Feast festivities.
“I dunno, Hermione,” Harry replied. “The Minister is usually not here unless…” Harry’s thoughts stopped as two familiar faces beamed at him from the Staff table.
A giant of a man waved a huge paw-like hand in his direction, smiling from behind his bushy whiskers. Hagrid waved again and nodded his head to the wizard sitting to his left. Harry grabbed Hermione’s robe and then Ron’s, turning their gaze away from the Minister, and toward the person next to Hagrid.
“Bloody hell! It’s Dad!” Ron shouted while jumping up from his seat. The noisy chatter in the Great Hall immediately ceased, while all eyes turned to Ron.
Harry watched as Mr. Weasley’s face turned scarlet. He mouthed the word “language” and motioned for Ron to sit down, but still smiled down at the trio.
“Mr. Weasley’s teaching here now?” Harry asked, as excitement and a ray of happiness filled him at the site of the balding, spectacled man.
Hermione pulled Ron into his seat. “Yeah, I suppose he is!” Ron whispered. “I mean, Dad said that he had a surprise for all of us, but he couldn’t tell anyone exactly what it is. I suppose he told Mum, but she couldn’t breathe a word of it to anyone.”
“I wonder what class he will be teaching?” Hermione mused, as a door opened from the side of the hall, and the first year students filed into the Great Hall.
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“Stupid hat, always says the same thing year after year.” Ron grumbled as did his stomach. “I’m bloody starving here. They need to hurry up with the food!”
“Shh!” Hermione hissed, slapping Ron’s arm. “They’ll hear you.”
“Good! Then maybe they’ll hurry it up.”
“He’s right, you know,” Harry said, turning and looking at the both of them. “It’s very similar to what it said in our fifth year.”
Harry drifted away as Hermione’s whispers combined with the sorting of the first year students. In his mind, Harry could hear the Sorting Hat repeating the song that it had recited. Certain words stood out to Harry from the rest. The hat spoke about “unity” and “trust” among the four houses. It told about “friendships” and “failure”. Lastly, the words “peril” and “danger” came from the old hat. Harry continued to focus on these words while he ignored the sorting ceremony, and he barely clapped when others applauded. His mind continued to turn and twist, and around every bend he would see Draco smiling, laughing, and playing with Teddy. That was his Draco, his rock.
He emerged from his thoughts as a loud applause echoed through the hall. McGonagall stepped to the podium while the chair and the Sorting Hat were carried away. Harry looked on as she raised her hands, calling for silence from the students. “And now, let us enjoy this delicious meal. Please begin.”
“Finally!” Ron exclaimed as golden plates of food appeared in front of them. He took some of each dish and began digging in with relish.
Harry moodily picked at his food, while his stomach voiced its’ opinion about the lack of intake. Propping his left elbow on the table and resting the side of his face into the palm of his hand, Harry stabbed at the bits of roast beef with his fork, causing the utensil to scrape across the plate and eliciting a high-pitched sound that reverberated across the hall. The Great Hall went silent for a moment as many students turned to the source of the sound, and a few of the teachers did the same at the staff table. Oblivious to the attention, Harry continued with his roast beef, and then moved onto the treacle tart that had appeared before him. Every so often, he would look up from his food to find Draco at the Slytherin table boasting about something. A dull ache throbbed inside of Harry’s mind as he watched Pansy Parkinson lay her hand lightly on Draco’s wrist. The ache increased when Draco did nothing to push away the girl’s hand. As if sensing Harry’s thoughts, Draco gazed up from his plate, locked eyes with Harry for a brief second, sneered, and pulled Pansy a bit closer to him. Harry cursed under his breath as he stabbed his spoon into the pudding that had appeared, causing the filling to fly across the table and onto Neville Longbottom.
Once more, the sounds from inside the Great Hall ceased at the disturbance. “Sorry, Neville,” Harry said, reaching for his napkin, and handing it to Neville.
“Oh,” Neville replied, wiping the custard-topped pudding away from his face and robe. “It’s alright, Harry. We’re all a bit overwhelmed tonight. Besides, that’s the second time today that has happened to me. I’m starting to get used to it.” He finished wiping away the pudding from his face as giggles came from the other tables.
“Harry, are you…” Hermione began.
“Yes, Hermione. I’m alright,” Harry whispered hastily before she could finish.
He went back to the new pudding that had appeared before him, making sure not to ruin this one. He was about to taste the first spoonful when he detected the unexpected sensation of something climbing up his trouser leg. Looking down, Harry watched as a small, beige-colored item ascended his leg. Harry noted that the eight legs and small black eyes resembled those of a spider however, before he could do anything about it, Ron suddenly yelled, “Spider!”, and leapt from the Gryffindor table, knocking over his food and that of everyone close to him.
“Ah, Dad, a spider!” Ron shrieked as he backed against the wall.
“Ronald Billius!” Mr. Weasley shouted, marching down from the staff table. “You are behaving like a child! Sit down before you cause any more embarrassment.”
Sounds of laughter came from the other three tables in the hall before a loud and authoritative voice boomed throughout the hall. “Silence, all of you!” McGonagall said. “There will be none of that here,” she continued addressing the four tables. “Mr. Weasley, when you are ready,” she finished nodding at both Weasley men.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley,” Harry said, “it’s not Ron’s fault, it’s mine. This is what scared him.” Harry held the parchment spider in the palm of his hand, allowing the elder Weasley to closely examine the cause of the disturbance.
“Blimey,” Arthur said, lightly touching the spider parchment with his finger, and seeing the thing retreat slightly. “Who sent you that, Harry?”
“Dunno, sir. It just came to me.”
Mr. Weasley scanned the other tables, noting the blonde head of Draco Malfoy shaking with laughter. He cleared his throat, and turned back to Harry. “Well, carry on then, Mr. Potter,” he said, patting Harry on the shoulder. “And, you too, Ron,” he whispered, “don’t be such a scaredy cat, as the Muggles say.” Arthur returned to the staff table, with a parting smile and a small nod to McGonagall and Shacklebolt.
“Harry?” Hermione whispered as the normal sounds of utensils clattering and light chatter resumed throughout the hall. “What is that?”
“I dunno, but I have a good guess who it’s from,” Harry replied, inclining his head toward the Slytherin table. “Who else sends me gifts like this?”
“Malfoy?” she asked.
“Probably.” Harry cupped his hands under the edge of the table so only he could see what the message would say. The spider parchment moved to the center of his hands, waiting for the command to reveal its’ contents.   “Open,” Harry whispered. “I command you to open,” Harry said, trying again. The spider parchment stood there, its tiny legs slightly moving as if incapable of finding a comfortable place to stand. “Damn thing, just reveal your secrets!” The body of the spider cracked and broke open as the beige color expanded, forming a small slip of parchment that fit perfectly into Harry’s hands. A single word appeared at the top of the parchment, hovering there for Harry to read.
“Happy?” Harry muttered to himself. The word disappeared only to be replaced by another word. “Jealous?” Harry looked up from the message and locked eyes again with Draco. A slow sneer snaked across the Slytherin’s face. His eyebrows slowly arched upward and he cast a sideways look at Pansy Parkinson, before tilting his chin up and slightly nodding at Harry.
Harry knew this look of smugness all too well. He glanced back down at the parchment in his hands as a series of words formed-- ‘Better For Myself.’ The words vanished as two male stick figures appeared at opposite ends of the parchment. Small hearts fluttered above them as the two figures walked toward the middle of the page, and embraced. The figures were about to kiss, when one of the figures brandished a wand in his hand, cursing the other stick figure until it lay prone upon the ground.
Anger coursed through Harry. He looked across the hall again as Draco snickered, then turned his back to the Gryffindor and talked to the housemates at the Slytherin table. Slowly, Harry began to tear the parchment into tiny strips. He closed his eyes and savored the tearing sound coming from beneath the table.
“What was it, Harry?” Hermione asked, hearing the sound of the parchment being shredded.
“Nothing important,” Harry answered, opening his eyes. “Just a reminder of why I really decided to come back.” He ripped the last bits of the parchment and stuffed it all into his trouser pocket.
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McGonagall strode to the podium and extended her arms toward the corners of the Great Hall. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” Her silver and sky blue robe shone in the candle light, as the faculty and students all applauded. “Please,” she sniffled, touching the back of her hand against her mouth and regaining her composure. “Applaud those who have given their courage and made their sacrifices for us to be able to go forward. Those friends, those family members, and those loyal allies who gave their lives…they are the ones who deserve this.” She stepped back as applause filled the room once more. Once the applause had died away, McGonagall strode back to the podium. “We honor those brave men and women by being here tonight; here with our friends, with our families, inside of this home.” A small round of applause moved through the four tables. McGonagall held up her hand to silence them. “Tonight, we move forward with our lives, as they would want us to do. Hogwarts has risen from the ashes like a phoenix. Much like a newborn phoenix, Hogwarts will once again become a symbol of righteousness and hope in our wizarding world. That is why we have rebuilt, and that is why we have been reborn. We must continue on, and we must not falter in our stride. We have shown our enemies and the world just how strong a united Hogwarts can and will forever be.”
A thunderous applause erupted from three of the tables, while the Slytherins lightly applauded, some choosing not to clap at all. “Thank you,” the headmistress continued. “Now, let us focus on our tasks at hand. It is a new year at Hogwarts, but first, please allow me a moment of your time to explain a few things before we introduce our new professors. You are all very much aware of the events that happened here in the last school year. Hogwarts was taken prisoner by Death Eaters, and we were made to suffer under their reign. After speaking at great lengths with the Minister of Magic, the Wizengamot, and the Hogwarts Board of Governors, it has been unanimously agreed upon that all credits from last year will not count toward any students’ records. Unfortunately, I am sorry to say that many of you will be taking the same required classes that you were in last year. However, this year you will not be graded under a Death Eater’s glare. All of the faculty members that you see behind me have been approved by the Ministry of Magic. They, along with myself, will be teaching you this school year. I dare say that Hogwarts may feel a bit more crowded this year, and that is because I have asked many of the older students to come back and finish up their O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. studies, properly. Those whom I visited in person did have a choice and I am so happy to see each of you have decided to return. In order to accommodate the extra students, you will find that extra sleeping rooms and accommodations have been set up in each of the four houses. Now, I am sure that many of you are familiar with the usual faces of a number of our staff members. For the first year students, you will soon get to know these professors. However, since the last school year, there have been a number of personnel changes here at Hogwarts. It gives me a wonderful honor to introduce your new teachers for this school year.”
“With the retiring of Professor Slughorn, once again, I would like to welcome the new head of Syltherin house, and the Potions master. Welcome, Mr. Arsenius Jigger.” The droopy old man stood from his chair and nearly toppled over as he tried to make a slight bow to the audience.
“Secondly, I would like to present Madame Viviane Rivail. She will be taking over for the retired Sybil Trelawney, in Divination.” The fluffy blonde-haired woman stood from the table, allowing the full length of her violet robe to be taken in by every set of eyes in the hall. She waved to the crowd and smiled with her perfectly shaped teeth while batting her long eyelashes.
“Thank you, Viviane,” McGonagall stated, nodding her head at the woman to sit back down. “Next we have our new Muggle Studies professor, Mr. Arthur Weasley.”
The Gryffindor table exploded with cheers and applause. Arthur Weasley stood, bowed, and waved at the students. His face was now the same color as a beet. He motioned for the Gryffindors to sit down and stop with the cheering.
McGonagall smiled while the noise from the Gryffindor table slowly ceased. “With the departure of our former caretaker, Mr. Filch, and his cat, Mrs. Norris, it gives me a wonderful pleasure to introduce you to our new Hogwarts caretaker, Marius Black and his companion, Thor.” The man with the silver hair stood from his chair, as a slight scattering of applause came from the four tables. He nodded curtly and softly petted the opossum that gripped his neck and hair to keep from falling.
“Our final new addition to Hogwarts is Professor Vulpin, who will be our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.” She pointed to the empty chair. “However, I have received word that the professor is unhappily detained and could not make the Start-of-Term-Feast tonight, but will be present in the morning for his first class.”
McGonagall took a moment before continuing. “I will be retaining the Transfiguration post. Well, as you can see it has been a very busy summer for us here. There are many new faces and I am sure that we will all do our best to make this year a successful and a very memorable one. Now, that the introductions are over with, I have a few start of term notices to make before turning the floor over to the minister of Magic. To all first year students, the Forbidden Forest is out of bounds. Please do not forget about the House Cup Challenge, as well as Quidditch tryouts. Also, Mr. Black has asked me to speak about the notice for rules within the corridors while at Hogwarts. You will find this information on the door of Mr. Black’s office, as well as on each Common Room notice board.”
“Lastly, I know that many of us are dealing with heartaches and horrible memories from what happened in this very room. Those sounds and images will not soon leave our minds. Should any of you feel the need to seek comfort, please feel free to come to my office and together we will discuss the situation.” A soft clearing of the throat emanated from behind Minerva. The sound was so eerily reminiscent of Dolores Umbridge that the headmistress could feel the hairs on the back of her neck standing. She turned to see Viviane smiling at her.
“Headmistress?” The woman asked.
Minerva walked over to the table and placed her hand over Viviane’s. “Forgive me, madame.” She returned to the podium and continued. “Also, Professor Rivail has considerable experience as a counselor. I would like for you all to go to her as well, if you feel that you need to speak to someone.”
She exhaled and smiled down upon the four tables. “Well, if that is all of the business, I shall turn the floor over to the Minister, so that he can say a few words.”
----------------------
“Thank you, Headmistress McGonagall,” the Minister said, making a slight bow to the woman. “Ah, Hogwarts!” The Minister’s voice boomed throughout the Great Hall without the use of magic. “I was just reminded today that no matter how long you’ve been gone from all of this, you can never be prepared for the feeling that you have inside of you, for something so special.” Kingsley placed his hands on either side of the podium, straightened his posture, and began. “Seeing your many faces, reminds me of a time when I was just like you. Sitting there at a table as a first year, and later as a seventh year, you wonder how and where the time goes. Soon, you are moving on to other adventures in your life. The responsibility of the Ministry of Magic, and part of my job, is to see that our young witches and wizards receive the invaluable education that each of you will need to set forth on those new adventures. All of you are uniquely special and carry a rare and powerful gift inside of you. That gift must be nurtured and cared for like a baby seedling.”
He paused and scanned the room, making eye contact with the students at each table before continuing. “It’s a new beginning for all of us. We have been given in life what so few others have ever had--a clean slate on which to begin anew. We have a chance to rebuild something, to make it even greater than before. I can’t do that alone. But, I can do it with your help. Hogwarts will become a shining beacon for the wizarding world. Each of you will have a piece of that honor. That all starts right here, tonight, in this very hall. Years from now, when you have your grandchild on your knee and that child looks up at you and asks you to speak to them about Hogwarts, you will feel your inner pride swell when you tell that child that you helped to lead Hogwarts out of the darkness and into the light. The cloud of our past is over, and now streams of sunlight are shining down upon us. No longer will we cower at the sound of a name. Let us all celebrate the rebirth of our school, our home, and our family. Tonight we step forward into a new era of openness, of effectiveness, and we will preserve our heritage for all future generations of Hogwarts students that are yet to come.”
The Minister raised his wand toward the ceiling of the room as a stream of gold shot from the tip of the wand. The stream began to turn and shape itself into a golden-sparkled shield. Another golden stream shot from the wizard’s wand as a badger and an eagle flew through the air and imposed themselves upon the shield. Following this, a lion and a snake intertwined together while in mid-air and then unwrapped from around one another to land upon the shield, thus forming the Hogwarts crest. The shield dazzled above the candlelight and into the black sky above before exploding into a collage of fireworks, leaving the remains of the crest suspended in a golden smoke. The Minister stepped back as the Great Hall roared with a standing ovation. Even most of the Slytherins stood and lightly applauded. The large man smiled and shook hands with members of the teaching staff as the applause continued.
McGonagall approached the podium, her hands raised, asking for silence. “Thank you very much, Minister Shacklebolt. I just have a few last words to say before the feast is over.   First year students will follow their respective Head boy or girl to their proper common rooms. The Heads of Houses will meet with each of you at breakfast in the morning to review your new schedules. Now, it’s off to bed with everyone. Good night!”
----------------------------------
The Gryffindors gathered along the marble staircase and began the trek upwards, occasionally halting at a particular level of the staircase as it would make its way over from another part of the stairway. Many of the younger Gryffindors chatted excitedly about what had just happened inside of the Great Hall, while the older students quietly talked amongst one another.
“Best start-of-term feast ever!” Ron said, pumping his fist into the air as they continued up the staircase. “Now I’m glad I decided to come back.”
“Oh, Ron,” Hermione said, rolling her eyes. “Didn’t you hear anything that the minister said?”
“Yeah,” Ron answered. “But, come on Hermione, you had to have loved the fireworks at the end?” When Hermione didn’t answer him, Ron quickly turned to Harry as they continued to walk up the stairs. “Harry? Surely you liked that bit at the end. I hope Shacklebolt never resigns as the Minister of Magic. He needs to come to every feast!”
“Ron, enough! Yes, it was impressive,” Hermione hissed as they neared the seventh floor corridor.
The group rounded the corner, walking through the corridor lined with bookcases, tapestries, and statues of armed knights. They all ambled up to the portrait of the Fat Lady, who put down her plate of food and cheerfully greeted them. “Password?” She asked, plucking a purple grape from the plate and placing it into her mouth. The Gryffindors looked at one another, each asking if they knew the password.
“You’re supposed to give us the password,” Hermione said, stepping forward from the group.
“I know that, my dear,” the portrait said, wiping her mouth with a French style serviette. “I’ve been studying the cosmos while you all have been away. It is enticingly fascinating. You wouldn’t believe all of the natural wonders of the universe that are right above us.”
“Password?” Hermione shouted, stamping her foot on the floor.
“My dear!” The Fat Lady protested. “Such a temper and impatience. ‘Tis not very becoming of a Gryffindor.” She wagged her finger at Hermione. “As I was about to announce, before being rudely interrupted,” she said, lightly patting the brown curls that hung down to the top of her shoulders. “The password is ‘cosmic creepers’. Do remember it, as I shan’t be reminding you of the word any longer.” The portrait door swung open, allowing all of the Gryffindors to climb through and into the common room.
“Hasn’t changed a bit,” Ron said, standing next to one of the plump chairs and circling about, taking in all of the common room. “Feels just like old times, eh, Harry?” He asked, nudging Harry in the arm.
“Yeah,” Harry replied, gazing around the room while many of the Gryffindors broke off into groups of two and three and began to renew friendships from the summer break. His mind was still processing the events that had taken place in the Great Hall, dissecting many of the words that the Sorting Hat, Headmistress McGonagall, and the Minister had spoken. Harry sat down in the chair and stared into the unlit fireplace, while laughter and excitement came from all around him.
Noting Harry’s preoccupied state, Hermione grabbed Ron’s wrist, pulling him down onto the soft couch beside Harry while she sat down in the chair, just to Harry’s left.   “Is it about the note, Harry?” she asked.
Harry’s hand clenched around the scraps of parchment that he had shoved into his pocket. Slowly, he brought them out of his pocket and, holding them in the palm of his hand, allowed Ron and Hermione to watch as broken letters continued to appear and disappear, along with the crude drawing. “His welcoming back gift to me,” Harry growled, before tossing the scraps of parchment into the fireplace.
I can’t do this Harry. I need to better myself.
The sting of the words echoed in Harry’s mind, while his hand whipped his wand out and set the parchment on fire. “I came back because Dumbledore would have wanted me to do so.” Harry softly spoke, staring at the small flames. “I also came back because I will have Draco. He will not brush me aside, because I know that part of him that cares. I’ve seen the real, true Draco Malfoy.” Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, while the last bit of flames from the fire reflected upon his glasses. “His gift has only fueled the flames.” Harry closed his eyes and breathed deeply, inhaling the faint smell of burned parchment. Opening his eyes, he nodded to both of his friends.
“Harry, don’t you think you should, maybe, let all of this go, mate?” Ron asked, keeping his voice down to a whisper.
“I can’t,” Harry answered. “Draco started this, and I won’t let this opportunity pass me by. It will end on my terms, not his.” Harry got up from the couch, looking back down at his friends. “I’m going to bed. I’ll catch up to the both of you in the morning.”
“Hi, Harry! A good summer, yeah?” Seamus Finnigan’s voice came from across the room.
Harry watched as the Gryffindor approached and clapped a hand across his back. “Yeah, Seamus.” Harry replied, half-heartedly. “Brilliant summer. Can’t you tell?”
“Sorry. I was at my gram’s for the summer, and I didn’t get much news except for what was in the Prophet.”
Harry’s hands clenched as he looked away from Seamus and focused his building rage upon the ashes in the fireplace. He sensed movement beside him as Hermione and Ron stood up, placing their bodies between Harry and Seamus. “Then you already know everything,” Harry spat, while continuing to glare at the ashes. He was aware of the silence that had cascaded down upon the room as the others had stopped their conversations to listen.
Seamus scoffed, causing Harry to whirl on the spot, his fingertips brushing the butt of his wand. “I just wanted to know if it’s all true, or is it some more rubbish that Skeeter has printed?”
Harry glared at Seamus while noticing Hermione nervously biting her lower lip and shaking her head side to side. Turning his head to take in the rest of the common room, Harry met the eyes of a number of fellow Gryffindors, while others looked away. His mouth became dry, and his fingers started to sweat as the decision balanced on the cusp of his thoughts. He felt his fingers slip away from his wand, and the rage subsided. A new sensation formed, taking the place of rage, and it slowly spread from his mind to every orifice of his body. Harry slightly shook his head, confirming with himself the decision and exactly what he was about to say and do. He glanced at Hermione and nodded to her, hoping that she would not interrupt once he began to speak. He watched as Hermione stepped over and touched Ron on his shoulder, as if signaling to him of what was about to happen. Harry walked past his best friends and stood before all of his fellow Gryffindor family.
Harry took off his robe, tossed it to onto the back of the couch, loosened and untied the scarlet and gold tie from around his neck, and pulled the dress shirt out from beneath his trousers. His tongue briefly touched his parched lips, and Harry scratched at the back of his head, ruffling the black strands of hair. “Yeah,” he began. A hint of a smile toyed with his lips. “It’s all true. I’m sure that you’re all dying to ask me so let’s just go ahead and get it over with. I’m sure that by now, word has already spread through the entire school, so it doesn’t matter anymore.
“’Have a good summer, Harry?’” He scoffed. “’Do anything exciting, Harry?’” Harry mimicked, glaring at Seamus. “Yeah, I’ve done loads!” Harry shouted, kicking over a foot stool. “I killed Voldemort to begin my summer, and then moved onto having to be chased through all of London by some maniac named Phillipe Moreaux.   I had to go into isolation, which I was told was for my own good, with an even crazier American wizard named Janus. Oh, and let’s not forget that I broke up with my girlfriend and got slapped for that. I had to appear, again, in front of the Wizengamot, to give testimony about watching Albus Dumbledore die. I watched as Lucius Malfoy was murdered inside the Ministry of Magic. Oh yeah, as you all are aware thanks to the Daily Prophet, I’m snogging Draco Malfoy! So, all in all, it’s been a bloody good summer for me!” Harry shouted, tossing his hands in the air. He stormed past them, making his way toward the stairs that led to the boy’s dormitory, but stopped at the sound of his name.
A young boy with dark, black hair and glasses stepped forward from the knot of Gryffindors. Harry watched as the young boy walked up to him, placed his smaller hand in Harry’s and clasped down, holding Harry’s hand. Harry noted the boy’s thick glasses and soft green eyes. Instantly, Harry felt as if he had fallen back through time and was looking at an eleven year old version of himself. Harry kneeled, bringing himself with the young boy. “What’s your name?” Harry asked.
“Sullivan. Thomas Oliver Sullivan,” the boy answered.
Harry could feel the softness of the boy’s fingers and hand. He found his fingertips tracing over the boy’s own fingers, feeling every soft line that created this young boy’s individuality. “First year?” Harry asked. He watched as the boy shook his head forward, and pushed his glasses back up onto his nose with a finger from his other hand. Harry smiled, and released the boy’s hand. “You must think I’m crazy, don’t you?”
“No.” The answer was short and swift from the young boy.
Harry began to get up, but the boy continued with his words. “My older step-brother likes boys. I’ve snuck downstairs sometimes and seen him and his boyfriend sitting on the sofa, snogging. Mum doesn’t mind. She said she knew a long time ago.”
“Is your brother here, at Hogwarts?” Harry asked, before he could stop himself.
“No. He’s a muggle. So, I don’t care if you go around snogging other boys. Even if it is a Slytherin.”
Harry chuckled as he gazed at the young boy. He brought his right hand up to the boy’s arm and softly patted it. “Thanks, Thomas.”
“I always read the Daily Prophet, and mum always said that you couldn’t believe everything that you read, but that you could always tell if someone is genuine or not by their eyes.” Harry watched as Thomas stared into his eyes.
“What do you see when you look at me?” Harry asked, letting the young Gryffindor stare into his soul.
A moment of silence passed between the two before Harry could feel the small intake of breath from the boy. “Mum’s right. I believe in you,” the young boy stated, as he smiled and backed away from Harry, rejoining his first-year friends.
Harry stood up. “He’s a true Gryffindor,” Harry said, pointing at the first-year. “Dumbledore would be proud,” he said turning and walking up the stairs.

--------------------------------------------

“You two have got to do something about Harry!’ Seamus said, pointing at the stairs where Harry had disappeared to. “He’s fraternizing with the enemy! A Gryffindor and a Slytherin, especially that particular one…something has to be done about that!”
Ron made a movement toward Seamus but Hermione placed her hand on his arm, stopping the redhead and shook her head at the exasperated Seamus. “Honestly, Seamus, there’s nothing that can be done. It’s…Harry wouldn’t like me saying this, but it’s over anyway.”
“It didn’t sound ‘over’ to me. It’s bloody unethical, Hermione! You know it is. We all know it is,” Seamus gestured, waving at the other Gryffindors in the room.
“No, it’s not,” Neville Longbottom’s voice came from the crowd. He stepped forward toward Seamus, nodding his head toward Ron and Hermione. “Who are you to say Draco’s a lost cause? Maybe he can change. Maybe if Harry--”
“Bollocks, Neville!” Seamus replied. “There’s no bloody way that Draco Malfoy is going to change. Merlin’s Beard, you guys, he’s a Death Eater’s son. He is a bloody Death Eater! And you all want to be friends with him? You’re crazy, the lot of you!”
“Did you listen and pay attention to the Minister’s signs this evening?” Hermione said, folding her arms across her chest. “Surely, you noticed?”
“I saw the Minister produce all four houses of Hogwarts.”
“Well then you didn’t see anything, did he Hermione?” Ron chided, stepping behind her.
“Seamus,” Hermione said. “The Minister was right about one thing, and he was trying to show us that in his message. It is a new era. A new beginning. If a Slytherin and a Gryffindor can overcome everything together, then there is a new hope. Centuries of hate and prejudices are over. It’s time to make our new beginning.”
“Well I’m not going to be friends with a Slytherin!” Seamus huffed.
“Fair enough,” Hermione said, as she tossed a lock of her curly brown hair over her shoulder. “Then you can remain part of the archaic past.” She got up, slipped her arm through Ron’s, and started for the stairway. Walking through the crowd, Hermione spotted the young first year, Thomas Sullivan, who smiled and gave her a thumbs up.

--------------------------------
The Slytherin common room was full of giddy first-years gossiping on the low-backed sofas, tapping at the glass of the lake windows, or playing obnoxious games on the floor. A trio of the little creatures were even running around playing tag.
“They wouldn’t have gotten away with that when I was prefect,” Draco muttered. He walked up to a couch where two wide-eyed girls were exchanging whispers. “Move. Make way for your elder and better.”
One of the girls, a plump-cheeked brunette with her hair in intricate braids, thrust her chin out and opened her mouth, but her friend took her arm and dragged her away before she could force Draco to teach her a lesson.
“Bullying little girls now, Draco?”
Draco flopped down on the sofa and looked up to see Daphne Greengrass shaking her head at him. Millicent hovered behind her, but to Draco’s irritation, Pansy was nowhere in sight. “They need to learn their place.”
“They’re not the only ones.” That came from Theodore Knott, who had entered the common room with Blaise and Pansy.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Draco asked. He glanced briefly at Theodore before gesturing to Pansy and patting the cushion beside him. Instead of taking the seat he’d offered, Pansy perched on his lap, her bony arse digging into his thighs. The position wasn’t comfortable, but the closeness reminded him another body he had held. A jolt went through him as he remembered that last kiss on the stoop of Malfoy Manor, and he pulled Pansy closer.
“It means I saw you passing a little note to Potter,” Theodore explained. “I wonder what it said?”
“Don’t,” Blaise advised, shaking his head in Theodore’s direction.
Millicent had begun to giggle like one of the stupid first-years.
“Is this true?” Pansy demanded. She slid off of his lap and folded her arms across her chest.
“So what if it is?” Daphne asked. “I don’t understand.”
“You don’t read the paper, do you?” Theodore asked, smirking.
Daphne shook her head. “Of course not! What person our age does? It’s absolutely dreadful to read, and if it’s not on a test, I don’t see the point of boring myself.”
Theodore murmured something about a typical shallow girl, but Pansy had stood up beside Daphne and now glared down at Draco. “Yeah, the Prophet’s dreadfully boring, but when your boyfriend is in it for snogging another boy in front of everyone at the Ministry of Magic, you tend to hear about it!”
Draco stood up so that he could look down at her. He moved close enough to strangle her but restrained his hands. “Even Skeeter never said that!”
“He’s right,” Theodore agreed. “It was just an ‘embrace,’ which is quite a bit different from a ‘snog,’ although I can’t blame you for not knowing the difference. After all, if Draco’s your boyfriend, I doubt you’ve had much of either.”
“Shut it!” Pansy snapped. “I bloody well know the difference. What I want to know is what was in your little note!”
Draco forced himself to laugh. “You can’t possibly be jealous because of something some desperate old bag said in order to trick people into reading her stupid articles. If you’re afraid Potter’s prettier than you are…” He regretted that immediately and shut his mouth, watching her twitch with rage.
Blaise, Millicent, and Theodore all stood back as Pansy inched closer to him. He could feel her breath on his face as she hissed. “I want. To know. What. Was in. The bloody. Note!”
Draco shrugged, held his hands out, palms up, and rolled his eyes at Blaise and Theodore in the hopes of rallying some male solidarity. “I told him not to bother going out for Quidditch this year. It wouldn’t do to have the savior of the wizarding world knocked off his bloody broomstick and crying.”
“Hm.” Pansy’s eyes widened and then narrowed. She dropped her hands to her sides, but they quickly clenched into fists.
Draco sighed in exasperation. “If I were passing secret love notes, do you think I’d do it in front of Theodore?”
She looked down at her shoes, and Draco used the opportunity to take one of her hands. He wanted to squeeze it hard enough to crush the bones, but instead he brought it to his lips. That seemed to do the trick, because she laughed and shook her head.
“I hope you do knock him off his broomstick!” Blaise said. “He could do with being taken down a peg.”
Pansy draped her free arm across Draco’s shoulder and stood on her tip-toes to whisper the words “my room” in his ear. He stroked her hair, buying himself time as his mind raced. When they had been together before, she had always teased him, pretending to offer herself before making an excuse to leave. Something told him tonight would be different, and he felt a surge of irrational guilt, as if he were betraying Harry. “Maybe later,” he told her. “It’s our first night back, we should all do something to celebrate!”
Millicent clapped her hands together and exchanged a giggle with Daphne. “What do you have in mind?”
“I’ll bet Jigger has a stash of all kinds of potions from his store, and the old codger’s too senile to notice any of it missing,” Draco suggested.
“And if that rat-thing catches you?” Daphne asked, shuddering.
Draco shrugged. “Fine. Stay here if you’re scared to get caught, but don’t expect us to share. Who’s coming?”
“I’ll come,” Millicent offered.
Blaise and Theodore both echoed her, but Pansy shook her head. “I’ll wait here. You can bring me back something fun to show how much you love me.”
Blaise made a whip sound and an accompanying gesture, which made Daphne and Millicent snicker and earned them glares from Pansy. I’d like to bring you a flask of weedosoros poison, Draco thought. Out loud, he said, “I’ll be sure to do that.”
------------------------------------------
The silence of the hallway seemed to magnify each sound—Millicent’s heavy breathing, the shuffle of Theodore’s feet, even the swish of Blaise’s robes. Black himself might be old enough to be going deaf, but the giant rat would have animal hearing; the noises would be even louder to it than they were to Draco. A few years ago, that thought would have sent chills down Draco’s spine. An expedition like this would have been a mild thrill to break the tedium of school life, but now it was just another chore. This was nothing compared to the crimes he had committed; the thought of old Black pinching his ear was laughable when stacked against the possibility of Shacklebolt throwing him in Azkaban.
He glanced behind him to see his three companions turning their heads in all directions, their eyes wide. Blaise and Millicent walked carefully, lowering their feet slowly to muffle the sounds of their footsteps. Theodore hunched down in a comical parody of “sneaking” that made him even more conspicuous. Their hearts are racing at the thought of being caught. Hairs are standing up on their backs, sending shivers down to their toes. Their stomachs are heaving like whomping willow trees. The last time I felt that was on the steps of Malfoy Manor.
“You’re acting like a bunch of scared children!” he admonished. “No one will even care that we’re out here if we say we were…” he paused for a moment, searching for a viable excuse. “Helping Millicent find the gold quill pen she dropped after potions.”
“But I don’t have…” Millicent began. “Oh. Right. My ‘gold quill pen’.”
“As if we wouldn’t tell her to find her own damn pen?” Blaise shook his head.
“Black doesn’t know that, though,” Theodore said. “He doesn’t know us.”
They had arrived at the door of the potions classroom. Draco tried several unlocking spells and cursed.
Millicent raised her wand. “Here. I can blast through it.”
Draco pinched the tip of her wand and lowered it. “Don’t be stupid.”
“Accio keys!” Theodore called. A moment later, he was jingling a large brass ring, which Draco snatched out of his hand.
“At least one of you has more brains than a bowtruckle.” Draco used the key to open the door. “Now, spread out and stand guard. If Black comes by, just act casual, and if he tries to go in the classroom, distract him. Ask him to help look for Millicent’s pen or something.”
He entered the classroom, closed the door behind him, and lit the tip of his wand. He half expected to find Jigger still asleep at his desk, or possibly dead from old age. The room, however, was empty and silent save for the bubble of a cauldron in the corner. A cloying smell wafted from the brew, reminding Draco of a mixture of menthol and the cheap cologne that some of his classmates used when they skipped bathing. The contents of the cauldron glowed, bathing the room in a sickly yellow light that made his light spell unnecessary. He wrinkled his nose and decided to avoid the unknown substance, focusing instead on the shelf full of cardboard boxes marked “expired inventory”.
The first box he opened contained tiny vials of single-use potions with neatly printed commercial labels. He pocketed several vials of erumpent potion with plans of throwing them on Hagrid’s pumpkins. Garroting gas and essence of insanity also went into his robes as he thought vaguely of Pansy. The rest of the vials seemed to be mostly healing potions, which didn’t qualify as fun, so he left them alone.
The second box yielded euphoria elixir, some sealed tubes of forgetfulness potions, a large bottle of frog parts potion, and a jar of dittany. Nearly out of room in his pockets, he took only the first two and left the rest. He stood up, satisfied with his prizes, and made his way to the door. He heard voices outside and paused a moment.
“You missed a spot,” Blaise was saying.
“And another over there.” That was Theodore. “Here. Let me help you. Aguamenti.”
Water rushed under the crack of the door, and laughter erupted outside, followed by a tired voice saying, “That’s enough, if you please. Run along to bed, now.”
“Oh, but we wouldn’t want to be unhelpful!” Theodore protested. “I can summon some soap from the kitchens—“
“That’s quite alright!” The old man sounded alarmed.
Draco opened the door in time to see a wooden bucket hovering over Marius Black’s head. The giant rat on his shoulder hissed and fled to the opposite side of hallway just as the bucket overturned, soaking Black in a dingy brown solution of suds and dirt.
“Well, there was some soap in there,” Millicent commented.
Draco stepped into the hallway and slammed the door behind him. “What the hell are you doing?” he demanded.
Soaking wet from his silver hair to the toes of his immaculately polished shoes, Black began furiously mopping at the mess. “Just making sure the hallways are clean, like Headmistress McGonagall ordered.”
“I wasn’t asking you!” Draco stepped toward Theodore and glared at each of the Slytherins in turn.
“We were just having a little fun with the man, that’s all.” Blaise shrugged.
“I see. And does it look like he’s having fun?” Draco pointed angrily to Black, who was ringing the mop into his bucket.
“What do you care?” Millicent asked.
Theodore wore a smirk. “He cares because he’s a Black, too. Isn’t that right? Look at the two of them—they have the same nose, the same chin, I wonder if the old man’s a sick perv, too?”
“Clean this up, now.” Draco said softly.
“And steal your uncle’s job? I think not. Now, do you have what you came for, or—“
“Now!” Draco interrupted. “Before you regret it.”
“Before I regret it?” Theodore laughed. “Last I checked, there were three of us and two of you. Make that one and a quarter. A squib doesn’t count as a real-“
Draco’s curse hit Theodore squarely in the chest, sending him back against the wall. “You’ll clean it up, and you’ll apologize!” Draco shouted. He half-expected Jigger, or worse yet, McGonagall running up at any minute, and he didn’t care.
“He doesn’t want to.” Blaise had his wand raised and pointed it toward Draco.
“I thought I showed you your place!” Draco snapped.
“It’s alright, Master Draco,” Black said, still dabbing furiously with his mop. “Go on with your friends—“
“They’re not my friends!” As soon as the words had left Draco’s mouth, he dodged a curse from Millicent and managed to block a spell from Theodore. He looked to Blaise for support, but the other boy shook his head. In desperation, he grabbed Black by the back of his robe and shoved the old man into the potions classroom. Draco then reached into his pocket, grabbed a handful of vials, and threw them into the mop bucket, holding his breath. As the bucket exploded in a cloud of noxious vapors, he followed Black into the potions classroom and slammed the door behind him, leaning against it.
“What did you do?” the old man asked, his voice shaking.
“Just a little erumpent potion, insanity potion, forgetfulness potion, garroting gas—“
“Thor!” Black shouted. He leaped for the door and began heaving on the handle so hard that Draco had to dig his heels in to keep from being thrown aside.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Draco rasped. His throat was beginning to burn from the gas that had effused under the door.
“My opossum!” Black was frantic, his blue-grey eyes wide and beginning to fill with tears.
“Alright! I’ll go back for the bloody rat!” Draco held his breath again, pushed Black aside, and darted into the hall.
Blaise twitched as he rolled back and forth, heedless of the shards of the mop bucket that littered the floor. Millicent had risen to her knees, where she made some sort of choked giggling sounds, her face red, and her mouth turned up in a hideous grin. Theodore tore at his robes as if they were attacking beasts, taking in deep, rasping breaths as he did so. A small grey blob lay still at his feet, and Draco grabbed it before darting back into the classroom and handing the wet lump of fur to Black, who immediately began sobbing.
“Lay it on the table,” Draco ordered.
The caretaker ignored him, hugging the limp body to his chest and repeating, “Thor, Thor…”
“Fine.” Draco aimed a healing spell at the animal, hitting its tail, which was the only part of it he could see. A moment later, the tail began to twitch, and soon Draco was rewarded with an angry hiss from the little monster as it clawed its way out of Black’s arms and skittered into a dark corner.
“Thank you!” Black sobbed.
Draco waved a hand magnanimously and cast a spell to clean and dry the old man. He wasn’t a bad looking old codger, when he wasn’t soaked in dishwater or crying over a rat. He reminded Draco of his maternal grandfather, although Cygnus would never have been caught with a mop. “You should have some bloody dignity!” Draco snarled, falling into one of the empty chairs. “You’re a damned embarrassment.”
“I’m sorry, Master Malfoy.” Black looked down at his newly-dried shoes. “One can’t help being born a squib, and Headmistress McGonagall was kind enough to—“
“Not because of that!” Draco waved a hand again and sighed angrily. “Filch was a squib, too, and kids were terrified of him. The man knew how to stand up for himself. You’re a Black, aren’t you?”
“Well…”
“Not ‘well’. You’re a Black. You won’t catch Mother apologizing for marrying a death eater, you won’t hear Aunt Andromeda saying ‘sorry I married a Muggle-born’, and you won’t find me stammering about what happened between me and Potter.”
“But you’re all wizards, and I’m—“
“Pathetic, that’s what you are.” Draco rolled his eyes. “And if you dare apologize again…”
“With all respect, Master Malfoy, you don’t know what it’s like not to be able to use magic.” Thor had returned to Black’s shoulder, and the man was feeding the rat something he had pulled from the pocket of his robes.
“Did I use magic when I saved your skin just now?” Draco asked.
“Well…” The old man tilted his head to one side, then the other before breaking into a grin. “I suppose not.”
“Then we’ll make sure you can do the same,” Draco promised. He walked over to the boxes and began rummaging through the contents, reading each label before deciding whether to hand the vial to Black. When he had finished his search, the caretaker’s pockets bulged with potions that ranged from mildly obnoxious to potentially deadly. “Try not to kill anyone,” he warned.
“I won’t,” Black replied.
Draco considered asking for clarification, but decided he didn’t really care what the old man meant. “I should go take care of the others. The insanity potion will wear off soon.”
Black nodded. He opened his mouth, then closed it, repeating this pattern several times as if deciding whether or not to say something. His eyes were locked longingly on the contents of the glowing cauldron that bubbled in the corner.
“What is it?” Draco asked.
Black shook his head. “It would be beneath the Black dignity. I couldn’t.”
“Now you’re worried about dignity?” Draco snorted. “What is it? Better tell me now.”
“It’s Jigger’s favorite experiment,” Black explained. “I know because he, well, he tries it on me before he drinks it himself. I know, I know! I shouldn’t let him do that. I won’t anymore. But the potion, you see, it, well, let me show you!” With that, he snatched a ladle from one of the tables and took a long draught of the bilious yellow goo.
“What am I supposed to be watching for?” Draco asked.
“Make a light!” Black told him, rubbing his hands together in excitement.
“Lumos,” Draco murmured. He held the tip of his wand up to Black’s face and took a step back in surprise. It was as if someone had taken an iron to Black’s skin, smoothing out all of the wrinkles. His white hair had darkened to a warm ebony color, and even his eyes seemed brighter.
“It’s a youth potion.”
“Yeah, I can see that.” Draco marveled at the effect. Black could be his older brother, and not older by much. “How long will it last?”
“Not long.” Black pouted and ran his hand wistfully over his own cheek. “A couple of hours if I’m lucky, which is perfect for your friends.”
“For my friends?”
“Quick, before the insanity potion wears off!” Black filled the ladle again and darted from the room on his rejuvenated legs.
Draco groaned and sprinted after him. “You’re not—“ he began, but Black was already dribbling yellow slime into Theodore’s mouth as the Syltherin flapped his arms like a bird. As Black moved on to Blaise and Millicent, Theodore began to shrink, his robes dangling over his hands and pooling around his feet. His cheeks expanded, swelling with baby blubber and his rabbitty teeth looked even worse in comparison to his thin toddler’s lips. He looked about three or four years old, which made his arm flapping and babbling seem more natural.
Millicent began to cry once she reached her new age, forcing Draco to cast a silencing spell on her. Blaise seemed to take the transition in stride, picking up the pieces of the shattered mop bucket and trying to put them together as if they were a puzzle.
Draco opened his mouth to berate Black but found himself laughing instead. Millicent was in the throes of a tantrum, drumming her tiny bare heels on the floor. Her shoes had fallen off, and Blaise was now wearing them on his hands and clapping them together.
“Now the outside matches the inside,” Black commented.
Draco only nodded, unable to catch his breath long enough to answer. He couldn’t recall the last time he had laughed this way. When the pain from the residual garroting gas finally overcame his mirth, he put his hands on his knees, leaning forward and forcing himself to breathe. “You know if McGonagall found out…”
“She won’t!” Black promised.
“Good. Can you clean the rest of this up?”
Black nodded. “I can. And Master Malfoy…thank you. It’s the first time since I was a small boy that anyone has ever treated me like, well, like family. I thought all the Blacks had forgotten about old Marius.” He proceeded to crush Draco in a fierce embrace that involved Thor chattering in Draco’s ear.
Draco felt the hard glass of the vials in Marius’ pockets digging into his abdomen and experienced a moment of panic at the thought of all of them breaking at once. “Enough!” he barked. “You have enough garroting gas in your pockets to wipe out London. Be careful with it!”
“Yes, yes of course.” Black released Draco and stepped back, looking sheepish as he patted his pockets. He took out one of the vials and held it up to the light. “I’ve got to save these for when I need ‘em, eh?”
“Just make sure to save them for someone who deserves them,” Draco advised.
“Master Draco…” Black frowned thoughtfully and gave Draco a look that reminded him of Narcissa in her rose garden. “If you wouldn’t mind my asking a question…”
“Just be quick about it.”
“You’re a proper wizard. A powerful one! You don’t need these…” he held the vial up with his right hand and tapped it with his left “…like I do. So, why are you here?”
Draco shrugged. “It was supposed to be a lark, something to show this lot…” he gestured to the three toddlers “…that I don’t care about the rules or what anyone thinks.”
Black’s eyebrows drew together, and his lips pursed in concentration as he pondered Draco’s answer. “But, if you don’t care what they think, why show them?”
“I don’t expect you to understand. Now, I have to get them back to the Slytherin common room before anyone else notices. And don’t worry. I plan to take all the credit.” He took one of Theodore’s hands in his left and one of Blaise’s in his right. Millicent he nudged along with his foot, ignoring her silent protests. “I look like bloody Molly Weasly in Diagon Alley,” he muttered, eliciting a laugh from Black.
The four Slytherins made painfully slow progress but were able to move in the right direction. As they neared the Slytherin dungeon, Draco felt a sharp tug on his hand.
“What happened?” Blaise asked. His eyes were large and dark, and with his chubby cheeks and curly hair, he looked like the kind of cherub a girl might coo over.
“There was an accident,” Draco said simply.
“Why?” Theodore asked.
“Because I dropped some potions. Hurry up!” The latter was said to Millicent, who had stopped to gawk at one of the sleeping portrait subjects. He dropped Blaise’s hand and took hers instead, tugging her and Theodore along and trusting Blaise to follow.
“I want to play some more!” Blaise whined.
“You can play in the common room!” Draco growled. This started Millicent silently crying again, which made Theodore shriek, necessitating yet another silencing spell. “Don’t make me carry you,” Draco warned. “You know better than to cross me.”
Blaise nodded. Draco wasn’t sure what older memories Blaise retained, but he suspected they involved being threatened in the train compartment. A few moments later, Draco spoke the password and dragged three unhappy brats into the Slytherin common room. The first years had gone, leaving Pansy and Daphne with the room to themselves. Both girls wore expressions of utter confusion.
“What happened to the others?” Daphne asked. “And who are the kids?”
“Look a bit closer.” Draco smirked, enjoying the girls’ looks of horror as they recognized their friends. “It isn’t permanent, so don’t get your knickers in a twist.”
“Oh, Millie!” Daphne hugged the three-year-old Millicent, drying the toddler’s tears with the hem of her robe.
“At least the insanity potion has worn off. I think.” Draco sank into one of the sofas, pulling Pansy with him.
“It is rather funny,” Pansy admitted. “And I suppose it qualifies as something fun.”
Daphne had taken charge of the afflicted trio and was playing a game with them on the far side of the common room.
“I’m glad you like it,” Draco said. “It really was rather inspired.”
“Don’t be smug.” She elbowed him playfully and then stood up, pulling him with her. “My room?”
He nodded slowly and let her tug him along as he had tugged Theodore down the hallway. This is what I should have done with Potter. If I had known that morning would be our last together, I would have taken him to my room at home. It would have been right that time, with no broken glass and no Janus in the other room. It could have been perfect. One last, perfect time.
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Darkness Within The Light