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The Werewolf	By : chedevy Category: Harry Potter > Het - Male/Female > Draco/Hermione Views: 9799 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 2
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 5
- 6
Tuesday; 1 September 1998, 10:05 p.m.
To Hermione’s amazement, the Great Hall seemed to be reconstructed to a tee. There was not a trace of the damage it had taken during the Battle of Hogwarts, and to the naked eye, everything was returned precisely to its former shape. The ceiling was, as it had always been, enchanted to reflect the sky outside, and this combined with the flickering flames of the floating candles, made the atmosphere in the Hall truly magical. Of course, Hermione thought to herself, the word ‘magical’ absolutely lost its meaning when one used it to describe Hogwarts. All the same, there was no denying that the Great Hall looked as magnificent as ever.
It made her wonder if this was, perhaps, the chamber Professor McGonagall paid the most attention to. She was certain the Headmistress wanted to give the students the warmest welcome she could muster, which Hermione fully supported, but she also suspected there were many demolished parts in the castle that were barely attended to – even with the use of magic, it had to be impossible to fix that much damage in so little time.
The students were obviously thrilled as they gazed around. In fact, despite her realistic approach, Hermione was rather impressed herself. Although they had arrived mere minutes ago and therefore only seen a miniscule fraction of Hogwarts, she could tell the changes made since May were monumental.
“Would you believe a few months ago this place was in ruins?” Neville said, still gaping when they all sat at the Gryffindor table.
“Yeah,” Harry said breathlessly. “How did Professor McGonagall pull it off, do you think?”
Ron leaned in on his elbows to be better heard in the surrounding bustle of chattering students. “Probably hired some blokes from the Magical Construction Company,” he said. “And I reckon the other teachers did some work, too. I mean, there’s no way everything would be this clean if that wasn’t the case.”
Harry looked thoughtful at this. “I didn’t know companies like that exist in the Wizarding World.”
“Sure they do.” Ron shrugged. “But I figure we do stuff differently from the Muggles. Basically, you’ve got to know many variations of the Levitation Charm, Engorgement and Shrinking Charms, the Hammering Spell, crushing spells... It’s a pretty draining job on the whole, or so I hear.” He glanced behind himself then, shifting in his seat impatiently. “Merlin, I wish Hagrid would hurry up with the first years – I’m starving!”
Truth be told, Hermione was quite hungry, as well. On the train, she hardly ate anything due to her musings on how this upcoming year was going to turn out, and those thoughts included her anxiousness concerning the dynamics between Slytherin and the rest of the Houses. Already it was becoming clear that last year was not to be easily forgotten. The Hufflepuffs, with some exceptions, were generally living up to their name, so far displaying similar attitudes of forgiveness, patience, and tolerance towards all the other students, however they were the only House so accepting. Here the leniency ended, as even the Ravenclaws seemed to have decided on a passive-aggressive approach. They were abstaining from directly confronting the Slytherins about their fickle allegiances, but not from casting them nasty looks, whispering caustic comments, and manifestly evading all contact.
The worst, however, were by far the relations between the Slytherins and Gryffindors. There was just no getting around it – the infamous rivalry between the two Houses had changed into open hostility by the end of the war. Now, there was no withholding constant streams of cruel remarks, vile insinuations, derisive rebuttals, and bitter venting. Although both parties were active participants in these confrontations (which already had a tendency to turn violent), it was impossible to overlook the fact that the roles in the conflict had been swapped. To Hermione’s knowledge, aside from the harmless altercations in the Prefects’ carriage, it was mainly the Gryffindors who had instigated the arguments today, while the Slytherins took on a defensive position.
She had no doubt as to why the Slytherins were so quiet – it was mostly out of self-preservation. Still, she couldn’t feel hateful about it.
“Cheap bastards,” Ron growled, noticing where Hermione’s eyes were straying; she hadn’t even realised she’d been gazing at the Slytherin table. “Look at them, acting like nothing ever happened. It’s bloody ridiculous, if you ask me – why did they even come back?”
“To take their N.E.W.T.s,” Hermione gave the obvious answer. “Professor McGonagall must’ve sent them the letter.”
Professor McGonagall, Hermione knew, was sitting at the centre of the staff table, in a lavish chair reserved for a current Headmaster or Headmistress of Hogwarts. It was a bit dizzying to spot her former Transfiguration teacher in that seat. Hermione had only seen it being occupied by Professor Dumbledore before.
Ron looked exasperated. “But that’s exactly what I’m talking about!” He threw up his hands. “Why did she invite them back? It’s like asking us to forget they sided with You-Know-Who during the war. They bloody tortured Ginny last year... And Neville – and everyone!”
Although Ginny was currently engaged in a cheerful conversation with Harry, Neville did hear Ron’s words. “Hey, mate, easy there,” he said soothingly. “It makes me mad, too, but like I said earlier, few Slytherins actually helped the Carrows of their own will. Mainly, they tried to avoid the Death Eaters like the rest of us.”
Ron didn’t seem appeased by those words. “But they still went along with it, didn’t they?” he scowled. “Didn’t refuse when they were told to cast Crucio. It’s an Unforgiveable Curse, for Merlin’s sake!”
“It wasn’t just the Slytherins, Ron,” Neville pointed out patiently. “We were all being taught those classes. Well, the Dumbledore’s Army fought, of course, but... The thing is that hardly any students from other Houses were capable of using that curse, and the Carrows got bored with trying to find them. But there were still exceptions – some Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs... even one or two Gryffindors –”
“That’s different!” Ron said, evidently irritated that the other boy wasn’t agreeing with him. “And besides, you said it yourself – it was mostly those snakes who were able to use the Unforgiveables. What does that say about them? They all should be sent to Azkaban, is what I think!”
Hermione wasn’t surprised by this revelation. Without a doubt, Ron would gladly join the other Gryffindors in their attempt to oppress the Slytherins had it not been for Hermione’s disapproving presence. Her influence over Ron didn’t extend to controlling his feelings and opinions, however, and she couldn’t force her beliefs on him. She suspected Ron’s increased hatred for the Slytherins had to do with Fred’s death – it was never revealed who was responsible for it, and it could also have been an accident, but Hermione imagined Ron needed to put the blame somewhere.
All around them students were still chattering merrily, and even Harry and Ginny (who apparently only had eyes for one another) seemed oblivious to the heavier atmosphere after Ron’s exclamation.
“Anyway,” Neville said uncertainly. “Got any idea who the new teachers are?”
Grateful for this change of topic, Hermione surveyed the long staff table. Apart from the Headmistress who sat right at the centre, about a dozen other figures were seated at the table. Hermione spotted Professor Slughorn, the walrus-like Potions master who had replaced Professor Snape in their sixth year, sitting next to an empty chair reserved for the new Deputy Headmaster, Professor Flitwick. On Professor Slughorn’s other side was Professor Sinistra, the Astronomy teacher. She was currently engaged in what seemed to be a deep conversation with Professor Sprout, the grey-haired, plump witch who taught Herbology and who rarely dispensed with her patched hat. Beside her, at the end of the table, sat a wizard Hermione didn’t know. He was a very average-looking man, with a rather unmemorable face and brown hair. His hanging, dun-coloured robes, down-turned mouth, and deep shadows under his eyes made him look a bit like an underfed basset.
At the Headmistress’ left side sat another person Hermione didn’t recognise. It was a squat wizard of about fifty years old, with harsh features and a dark moustache. His stout frame was clad in dark red robes, and a silver monocle rested on the bridge of his nose, making it so that, despite the unassuming height, the wizard had an imposing air around him. Hermione had a feeling that this was a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher. Further down the table, looking musingly into her goblet, sat Professor Babbling who specialised in Ancient Runes, and beside her, the Arithmancy teacher Professor Vector could be seen listening with some wariness to whatever nasty things Professor Trelawney was predicting her. On the Divination teacher’s left side was an attractive young woman dressed smartly in Muggle clothing. Hermione did not recognise this person, either. The witch possessed a distinctive shag of golden-blonde hair, and a set of full, blood-red lips attached to her heart-shaped face. She seemed very interested in the vigorous commentary of the Flying Instructor, Professor Hooch, with whom she was presently speaking.
Just then, Hermione saw Hagrid’s lumbering figure approaching the high table, which meant the first years had finally crossed the lake. Sure enough, in the next moment, the doors from the Entrance Hall opened. In shuffled a line of scared-looking first years led by Professor Flitwick who was so short he could be taken for an eleven-year-old himself, but who, Hermione knew, was now Deputy Headmaster. In his hands, held above his head, was a stool on which an old wizard’s hat sat.
The Hall fell into respectful silence as the procession passed by each of the House tables. Finally reaching the staff table, the first years lined up in front of it, facing the students, and Professor Flitwick placed before them the stool with the Sorting Hat atop it. He stepped back. After a beat when everyone stared at it, the Sorting Hat predictably burst into song.
The song went on for quite some time. The Hat didn’t fail to mention that the war was over, and that, finally, Britain was free of the Dark Lord’s presence. Referring to the victorious side as ‘those of the Light’, the Hat underlined the defeat of the Dark Forces, but lay emphasis on the importance of forgiveness, arguing that neither side of the conflict was completely untainted. Throughout the song, the differences between the four Houses were being unusually omitted, and instead, unity between the students was more encouraged than ever before. Once the Sorting Hat finished, the Hall broke out in applause. Most students, though, wore similar expressions of scepticism and reluctance as they muttered among each other, exchanging opinions and doubts.
“‘Only through harmony will you prevail,’” Ron repeated mockingly, distaste clear on his face. “Like hell I’m going to hobnob with the greasy snakes.”
Of course, Ron wasn’t the only one with that attitude – practically everyone, students and teachers alike, were whispering with their neighbours, sending the Slytherins covert glances heavily tinged with uncertainty, distrust, and sometimes, like in Ron’s case, open hostility. Hermione turned around to look as well. Surreptitiously, her gaze swept across the Slytherin table, taking in her schoolmates’ exteriors, their sullen, defiant faces, shifty eyes, and hunched shoulders. Although they all were visibly trying to remain unconcerned, some were clearly more comfortable with the attention than the others.
Roughly at the centre of the table Hermione could see the back of Blaise Zabini’s stiff form. Across from him, looking particularly anxious, was Pansy Parkinson, who seemed to be restraining herself from bolting from the Hall, and to her right Theodore Nott resolutely avoided everyone’s eyes. Many heads were lowered, though whether it was in shame, guilt, or reluctance to face the scrutiny was anyone’s guess. One fair-haired, confidently raised head drew Hermione’s attention – for on Pansy’s other side, ramrod-straight sat Draco Malfoy. Despite the fact that with Crabbe’s death and Goyle’s mysterious absence he was the most notorious and hated Slytherin after the war, Malfoy seemed to be holding his own quite well. Then again, Hermione supposed, if one had a year-long experience sitting at Voldemort’s table, it might take some thrill away from being seated with his Slytherin compatriots. It was the younger students who looked the most miserable at being subjected to the school’s purportedly furtive scrutiny – some of them were noticeably trembling.
Feeling somewhat guilty, Hermione turned away. “Stop staring!” she hissed to Ron.
“Why? They’re all evil gits, anyway,” Ron said, but he complied.
“Because it’s rude. And you’re making those twelve-year-old children over there uncomfortable – they didn’t do anything.”
A sound of a throat being cleared came from the front of the Hall. Looking in that direction and seeing the tiny Professor Flitwick, most students ceased talking, though still some mutters could be heard.
“Aldwinckle, Howard,” Professor Flitwick intoned, cutting through the noise. Hermione thought that witnessing her Charms teacher calling out the first years’ names was just as strange as seeing Professor McGonagall in Professor Dumbledore’s previous seat.
They all watched as a small boy with hair almost as dark as Harry’s staggered forward. With trembling hands, he picked up the Sorting Hat, sat down on the stool, and placed the Hat on his head. After a moment of absolute silence, the hat shouted, “HUFFLEPUFF!”
Howard Aldwinckle hurriedly put the hat back on the stool and then nearly ran towards the Hufflepuff table, where the students clapped and cheered for him wildly.
“Averill, Judy.”
A blonde girl whose brilliant blue eyes were as wide as saucers tripped over her robes in her haste to get to the stool. Having quickly gotten to her feet, she sat down and put the hat on her head, much like Howard had done before her.
“GRYFFINDOR!” the hat announced finally, sending the Gryffindor table into hysterics. Grinning widely, Hermione applauded Judy Averill with the rest of her housemates, as the girl trotted to the end of the table with a dazed expression on her face.
As the hat continued sorting, the line of first years slowly thinned. It wasn’t until ‘Eddins, Wolfgang’ was called that the cheerful atmosphere in the Hall thickened somewhat.
“SLYTHERIN!”
The short, round boy was the first student sorted into Slytherin that year, and he seemed absolutely terrified about that fact. Amidst the sparse applause from his new housemates, Wolfgang Eddins slowly made his way over to the nearest table, looking as though he might faint at any second. Astoria Greengrass welcomed him with what appeared to be a few warm words, and glared at the other three Houses who watched with judgement in their eyes. At the middle of the table, Hermione noticed, Draco Malfoy didn’t seem very interested in the sorting, and was instead staring at the enchanted ceiling. Hermione glanced up, too – the sky was cloudless, and the moon was Waxing.
Another name was called, and Hermione turned her gaze back to the first years. At last, when ‘Zebroski, Augustus’ shuffled over to the Ravenclaws, Professor Flitwick rolled up his scroll, picked up the Sorting hat and the stool, and he carried them away.
Professor McGonagall stood up from her golden chair, then. Thin-lipped, she waited until all noise died down and everyone’s eyes were on her. She scanned all four House tables with a hawk-like gaze before launching into a speech.
“There are several matters that need to be addressed before we can start feasting,” the Headmistress intoned, her gaze sliding over the faces in front of her. “Most of all – welcome, and welcome back, to another year at Hogwarts. In view of last year’s deplorable circumstances, I am heartened that so many of you have decided to arrive, and as a part of the teaching ensemble, I could not be more proud of you. Indeed, our numbers this year are high – there are those among you who are just beginning Hogwarts, those wishing to continue learning here, and lastly, those who have returned to repeat their seventh year in order to acquire N.E.W.T.s. Such a situation had not taken place since the demise of Grindelwald. With this in mind, I ask for your consideration and patience concerning the technical aspects of school life, as there are still some issues that call for attention before Hogwarts can be fully functional again.”
Professor McGonagall paused for a moment, and just then a growling sound could be heard across the otherwise quiet hall. Hermione, together with half the school, turned to look at the red-faced Ron, whose stomach had just grumbled quite noisily. Professor McGonagall, though, gave the impression of not to having heard anything.
“The war is over,” she spoke once more, her voice ringing throughout the room and regaining everyone’s attention. “Once again, Hogwarts is open for all students, regardless of blood status, or allegiances during the conflict. While we have certainly fought for freedom, we fought for justice and equality as well – and it is these values that granted us peace. As such, let me warn you right here that discrimination and bigotry of any sort will not be tolerated this year. The matters of harassing other students will be taken most seriously. I have said this before, and I will say it again: the war is over. By accepting the letter inviting you to Hogwarts this autumn, all of you have declared yourselves willing to put aside your differences and let go of prejudices. Therefore, bear in mind that disregard for this warning will result in severe consequences.”
Silence followed these words, and even Ron looked distracted enough from his hunger to only blink at the Headmistress blankly. Professor McGonagall seemed undisturbed. “Continuing down the same path, a reminder of basic rules is definitely in order. Firstly, entrance to the Dark Forest is, as always, absolutely prohibited to all students, without exceptions.” Here, Hermione caught Harry’s gaze, then Ron’s, and the three of them exchanged covert smiles. “Secondly, no student can enter the Restricted Section in the Library without a written permission from one of the professors. And thirdly, as you already know, Hogwarts is not yet fully rebuilt. It is possible you will encounter some corridors which are blocked by rubble, or to which access is otherwise limited. If you happen to come across those, do not think of trying to go into such a corridor, but instead inform a teacher immediately. Similarly, do not attempt to enter other parts of the castle that seem to have been damaged in the battle – notifying a teacher should be your first priority.”
Several students had broken out in whispers even while the Headmistress was speaking, but once she finished, the Hall was already resounding with the hum of hushed talking.
“Did you hear that?” Ron asked in surprise. “’Corridors blocked by rubble’!” Then he looked a bit glum. “I mean, ‘damaged’ is one thing, but rubble...”
“I’m actually surprised at how well the castle seems to be restored,” Ginny said. “Wonder how many places they still haven’t fixed, though, eh? Just imagine it – this castle is huge!”
Neville, Ron, and Harry nodded, but Hermione frowned in contemplation. “I don’t believe it’s like that,” she said, and the others looked at her. “Think about it – Professor McGonagall made it sound as though the parts in actual ruins were a rare sight now. I suspect those must be the few damaged sections in the castle that simply weren’t reached for restoration, or went omitted.” Then again, not only was Hogwarts an enormous building, like Ginny had pointed out, but it was also magical. It was impossible to determine how many and which sections were still in need of reparation. “Anyway,” she ventured, suddenly uncertain. “I think we should really listen to Professor McGonagall in this case. If we do come across some debris... There could be things we don’t want to encounter.”
“What are you talki...” Ron began, but he trailed off with a look of quiet realisation on his face. Hermione averted her eyes. Indeed, not only could venturing into the ruins be incredibly dangerous, it could also mean chancing upon the decaying bodies of those killed in the final battle. Both the Dark and the Light side suffered considerable losses during that battle. Hermione wasn’t sure how she would handle stumbling upon a dead classmate, massacred and barely recognisable, when she’d only just started adjusting to normality.
“Well, it’s like Hermione said,” Ginny offered hesitantly, now readily agreeing with Hermione’s earlier statement. “What’s the chance of us stumbling on those demolished places?”
“Actually,” Harry joked, a bit uneasy, “I’d say pretty high, considering our past experiences.”
They all looked at one another before grimacing. It was a valid point, indeed.
“If I could have your attention,” Professor McGonagall rebuked the now freely talking students. “One last thing before we can begin the feast. As many of you have noticed, our teaching ensemble has changed once again this year. I would like you to welcome Professor Edulf Worple who is going to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts.” The stout, bespectacled wizard sitting on Professor McGonagall’s right side raised a hand, and the hall applauded politely. “Also, as Professor Freda Chissick has decided to retire, we are pleased to introduce our new Magical Theory teacher, Professor Mortimer Bones.” The basset-looking wizard at the end of the table nodded slowly in acknowledgement. She waited until the applause died down before indicating the witch in a hat. “And lastly, due to Professor Burbage’s tragic departure last year, Muggle Studies will now be taught by Professor Belinda Mockridge.”
Hermione clapped together with everyone else, but her thoughts were far away. She remembered Harry describing the vision in which he’d witnessed Professor Burbage’s murder over a year ago. For some reason, that train of thought was instantly followed by an image of a pale-looking Draco Malfoy, who had to have been present during that Death Eater gathering. Hermione resisted the urge to turn around and look at the Slytherin table.
At long last, the moment everybody had been waiting for came. Professor McGonagall clapped loudly twice, and immediately all five tables in the hall were filled to the brink with various foods.
“Oh, finally!” Ron cried excitedly as he set about eating whatever was in the nearest vicinity, without even bothering to put anything on his plate. “Loodi’ell, zisis uat aias aiding for!” he told Hermione with his mouth full of roast chicken.
“Swallow before you speak, Ron,” Hermione grumbled, ridding her robes of the bits of meat that flew out of Ron’s mouth.
Obediently, Ron made an enormous swallow. “I said that this was what I was waiting for,” he grinned before taking another bite out of the roast chicken leg he was holding in his hand.
Falling back on the familiar route of simply looking at Ron disapprovingly, Hermione began to fill her own plate.
All around her, nearly everyone appeared to be chatting amicably while consuming the food, however throughout the feast, Hermione couldn’t help but keep taking notice of the table farthest away from the Gryffindors. The Slytherins had never looked more stiff and reserved. The change from before the war was, to her mind, colossal – ever since they had entered the hall, there was not one obnoxious yell, absolutely no cruel jeering, and no bouts of raucous laughter. Instead, the atmosphere at that table was continuously morose, the conversations quiet, and the snickers sparse. Even Malfoy, who usually held court, stoically ate his steak. It all seemed a bit unreal, Hermione thought. She wondered briefly why she even cared, but the answer to that was long in coming.
Near the end of the feast, she turned in her seat to scan the Slytherin table one last time; she was surprised when her gaze was caught by another. Draco Malfoy, face pale and expressionless as ever, was staring straight back at her.
Frozen as she was by the cold calculation in his eyes, Hermione startled when a familiar warm arm was put around her waist. Looking to her right, she saw Ron’s profile. He was facing the same direction she had just been, obviously glaring at Malfoy, although the Slytherin didn’t seem to have noticed, as his gaze was still transfixed on Hermione. The colour of Ron’s face was rapidly becoming that of his hair, but for what reason he was so angry, Hermione couldn’t fathom. She prodded him lightly with her elbow. “Ron?”
Just then, Malfoy apparently became aware of Ron’s glare. His lip curled in a familiar, disdainful scowl before he turned to a chattering Pansy Parkinson.
Ron didn’t lose his frown as he continued to observe Malfoy. “I don’t like the way he’s looking at you,” he told Hermione. “On the train, he was watching you, too – and later, when we were getting into our carriage. It’s becoming bloody creepy.” His hold on Hermione’s waist tightened.
“I’m sure you’re exaggerating,” Hermione said carefully, and Ron finally turned around to meet her gaze. “It’s just Malfoy. He’s probably blaming me for not delivering a good enough testimony for his trial – and sulking because the Ministry’s making him repeat the year.”
Ron appeared somewhat reassured by this, but, try as might, Hermione couldn’t so easily banish Malfoy’s alert gaze from her mind. There was something in it that unnerved her. Maybe it was the fact that Malfoy had been completely still in his silent evaluation, moving not a muscle, as far as Hermione could see, and barely even breathing, or maybe it was just the intense look in his eyes. Whatever the case, Ron was right about one thing – it was creepy and actually made her feel insecure. Threatened.
Hermione Granger did not take well to feeling threatened.
.
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While I wasn't going to have OC's here, it seemed unavoidable now... oh, well. But the three teachers and the students introduced in the previous chapter should be the only more prominent OC's in this story, I promise! Anyway, I hope you will come to like them :D
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