Old and Ancient Magic

The Leaving

The castle murmured softly, audible above a silence that was unnatural for a thousand teenagers. Exam results had been posted, but nobody cheered. The morning light seemed incongruous with the events of the last few days. The Magic of the castle was upset, there was no balance any more - a simple spell could knock you sideways, and a complicated enchantment was bound to fail.

Dumbledore's presence was gone, the sunshine and lemonade that sparkled about the place. House colours were no longer in evidence, the hour-glasses in the Hall were set to nought, and every fire place in the castle was damped down.

Fang was by Tumnus' hut, a juicy bone in his mouth, although the faun was no longer in evidence. Voldemort's essence was in the forest, a dry taste of salt and sand, that flowed around the stones. At the heart of the castle, a compass was spinning, showing the direction of the flows of magic. Over it lay the body of Albus Dumbledore, returned to the castle that morning.

At the compass points stood the Heads of the Houses, each facing outward in silent tribute, heads bowed, hands clasped. A drumbeat echoed to wake the castle - nothing so cheerful as a bell, and still there was no sound. The feathers of the school owls had been charmed to black and grey, and they carried their burdens gracefully to their destination.

In the Great Hall the ceiling had gone out - all that was there were the rafters, awaiting the new Headmaster, who would awaken the stars again. Students walked steadily to their places, whispers intermittent, silence freezing the individuals again.

Harry walked into the chamber where the compass lay, and looked at the coffin. THe Founders Hall had no furniture, save the bier over the compass. The Ghosts had gathered, and now one of them had taken up the drum, beating a steady rhythm that shook the castle. One by one students filed past, wanting to be sure that Dumbledore was gone. They were joined by the villagers of Hogsmeade, who were waiting at the gates of the castle, and later by the whole of the wizarding world. Not a sound broke the lonely vigil, save for the drum beats. Each ghost took a turn, the sound was truly a resonance of the underworld, the next great adventure.

The day drew on, and still they came. Snape, Flitwick, McGonagall and Sprout stood there, dry-eyed, until Terry Boot, Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy and Justin Finch-Fletchley came up, and took their places. Hannah Abbot, Cho Chang, Virginia Weasley and Jenny Flint joined them, house loyalties forgotten. The four teachers made their obeisance to the coffin, and left the Hall.

In the middle of it all was Fawkes, a picture of dignity in the midst of sorrow. His head was bowed, but his gaudy plumage stood out in the waves of black. By evening it felt like most of the wizarding world had come to Hogwarts. As dusk came, a single note filled the room, and the doors of the castle clanged shut. The students were assembled in the Great Hall already, and now the watching eight joined them.

In the middle of the room was the sorting hat, resting on its stool. The students remained standing, as it began to sing.

Cast not your spells, put away your wand

Mourn the one you miss, all throughout this land

Let your eyes be dimmed with the drops that fall

The tears are not confined just to this one great hall

He was the north and south, the east and west

The sparkling wit, the formal best

The cried on shoulder, the laughed with man

Grace and truth they cloaked him, as only friendship can

Let the broomsticks circle widely, writing overhead

This message with their wands 'Dumbledore is dead'

And let them once again, circle here encore

A new headmaster has been chosen, rejoice, again, once more

Let laughter ring here once again, sweets and jokes be shared

Remember all the old times, remember how he cared

And in the darkening hours, when your heart is sore

Remember the warming presence, of Albus Dumbledore.

The hat paused, letting the words echo around the room. No applause came, it didn't seem appropriate. Snape walked forward to pick up the hat, tall and erect. A bird flew in, Fawkes, and picked up the sorting hat. Snape banished the stool, and then took his accustomed place.

"Much has happened, little of which you are aware. You will not always be so ignorant, nor will you always be in such safety. If you are wise, you will keep your wits about you, and your wand to your hand, that the death of the Headmaster will be not in vain.

I speak plainly - we live in changing times. There is a dark power rising, and it controls much of this land. It is your choice - to fight it or to join it, but one that you alone must make. The fools among you, of which there are many, will rush in, following the well trod paths, unable to think for yourselves what your own path is. It is your choices that make you, not your friend's, not your father's.

I will not coddle you, nor will I hide the truth from you unnecessarily. The Dementors of Azkaban are free, as are many of the prisoners therein. You cannot always trust those you think you know. To those that are leaving us for good, know that you are always welcome here, and that you will find a home. I bid you eat."

Food appeared before them, and Severus sat down, half-turning to Minerva. She nodded curtly, and passed him the rolls, one of which he broke on his plate.

"Albus' words?"

"Mostly. Written for me to say."

"I noticed."

Theirs was the only conversation at the High Table. At the far end of the Hall sat Harry Potter, looking directly at him. Snape acknowledged him with a nod, and took only such food as he might actually eat, which was but little. Most of the students were taking in his words, so different from his habitual sarcasm of the classroom, or the warmth of the dead headmaster.

Harry barely ate, leaving at the first opportunity. Walking towards the lake, he looked towards Hogsmeade station, where the Express stood in the sidings, a gloomy scarlet, dulled by the evening light. Ginny stood beside him, not speaking, and Ron and Hermione were among the trees a hundred yards away.

Snape himself was sitting on a rock that jutted out over the lake, one leg dangling over the water, the other clasped to his shoulder, with his head resting there, looking oddly vulnerable, if they could have seen him. Fawkes was sat on his lap, also invisible, watching the scene.

Most of the seventh year and staff were outside, scattered in groups of four or five, the teachers inconspicuous, but in evidence. Ron and Hermione were stroking the squid, watching Draco, who was out on the bluff, wind catching his hair, not looking at anyone.

With the exception of the Slytherins, and even then only certain individuals, the train was quiet as it headed for King's Cross. Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were sitting in silence. Ginny stroked Crookshanks, while Hermione held Pig for Ron.

Even the witch on the trolley had little to say. Hermione transfigured a trunk into a table for four, but none felt much like playing. The three older ones got out their holiday work, and decided silently on their coursework for potions. Ginny dozed in the corner, her hand resting on Harry's lap.

They finished quickly, no one knew what was going to happen, and the only way any sense of normalcy could be maintained at school was if the teachers enforced what schoolwork they gave out. McGonagall's words from third year haunted them 'if you're dead then I won't expect you to hand in your homework'. Somehow doing their homework lessened their expectations of being dead.

Sometime after Doncaster Ginny stirred, and Ron and Hermione raised the arm-rest, and cuddled up. Harry lifted Ginny, and rested her head in his lap, stroking her soft red hair.

"So, what's going on here?" Blond hair followed the interruption.

"Shut up, Malfoy." Hermione pinned Ron with her hand between his legs as Ron replied reflexively. Hermione was a little more circumspect.

"What's happening?"

"Just thought I'd do a quick check on the train. Do either of you prefects wish to join me?" He snickered at Ron and Harry, Ron who had no prefect badge yet, and Harry who was captain of Quidditch, and exempt from normal duties. Ginny looked up and fixed him with a glare, before responding.

"Harry has full prefect status this year. As you well know. Just not the duties."

"Think you're too good for them, Potter?"

"No. I think I'll join you. Hermione?" Hermione shook her head, and Ginny and Harry stood up. For some reason Malfoy looked pleased.

"So, you finally deign to do what the rest of us have to do."

"When you stop cheating at Quidditch, I'll have time for prefect duties, instead of playing nursemaid."There was little bite in Harry's retort. "Where are your little friends?"

"I told them it was a Head Boy thing."

"You?" All four looked up at his nonchalance. He grinned, grateful that Ron was still pinned.

"Professor Snape insisted on it. Granger's Head Girl." Leaving Hermione in open-mouthed shock they started down the corridor, looking in on each compartment, Ginny walking slightly ahead of them while the boys talked.

"What's going on Malfoy?"

"I don't know. Dumbledore's dead, Snape's Headmaster, Fudge has been removed." Malfoy cast a privacy charm around them all. "I thought I knew what was right. Then they killed Zabini's parents. Because they felt like it. Because Zabini was a better businessman than Avery. I was there." Harry looked at him. He knew Draco had changed that year, but didn't realise this was it.

"I don't like it. I don't go with Mudbloods in Hogwarts either."

"Why?"

"Because it was Mudbloods that got my family burnt. They didn't know how to act like witches. Drew attention to themselves. They come in changing the laws, changing customs, not seeing why we've done what we've done. Look at some of them. Thomas is more of a wizard than most wizards, yet he still can't fit in." The hatred was palpable. Harry looked at him, strangely.

"On the subject of blood, I don't think we'll ever agree, but I think we can agree that pointless slaughter is wrong." Ginny nodded at Harry's words, playing no further part in the conversation, but still within earshot.

"I don't want to kill anyone. Diggory was from an old family, yet he was a spare. I just don't want to lose everything I've ever known." Harry and Ginny nodded. "Dumbledore was good to me. He knew I hated him, but he respected me, listened to me. No one does that."

They neared the end of the train. The silence was oppressive. Harry and Draco bought some pumpkin juice and some chocolate frogs for the others, and turned back.

"Don't think this makes us friends, Potter, neither do I want to kill you. Any of you. Though I'd rather Granger wasn't in the school, she's not stupid. Potter - you're from an old family, as old as mine. And wealthy. And yet they want to kill you."

"Voldemort wants to kill me." By now it was Ginny who was doing most of the checking, leaving Draco and Harry to talk.

"If anyone asks, we were talking about Quidditch - I'm team captain this year." Harry nodded.

"I'm thinking that we need to organise a formal schedule, make sure practice is distributed evenly. I'd like to start having second teams. Release some of the tensions. Or else play 5th years against 6th or 7th. Try and bite down some of the rivalries."

Malfoy looked surprised. "Have you ever considered why it doesn't happen already?"

"Because people care more about house rivalries, than what it means to play Quidditch well? Because it's tradition?"

"Because last time it was done, people died. Not cause and effect, but a startling correlation. Or do you think it's beneath you to learn about your kind."

"Oh. I was thinking of doing it where people found six others, from at least one other house. No more than one house team member per game."

"It wouldn't work. The Slytherins would never agree and without their backing it couldn't work. You'd be jeered."

"Like I'm not already? They'd all do that?" Malfoy had the good grace to shake his head.

"No, but there's enough to enforce it. And there's no point in making sport political."

"Like it's not already. When you guys go out to kill me every time I play."

"Oh, that's not political, Potter, that's personal." Draco gave a genuine smile. "Not that it wouldn't have some major political benefits without the drawbacks of Azkaban."

They looked in on some Slytherins who were laughing and joking, about the only source of noise on the whole train. Malfoy scowled, and made some comment on their un-Slytherin lack of subtlety, and the three finished up their round wordlessly.

Ron seemed surprised they were still alive. That is, when they managed to break the obscuro, silentio, and privacy charms surrounding their compartment. Hermione's buttons were done up in a different order, but otherwise she seemed quite composed.

Draco had gone back to the Slytherin compound further down. Ginny and Harry didn't talk about what had been said. Ron and Hermione wouldn't understand. Instead they started on differences between M uggles and Wizards.

"Well, you know that Sirius and Co are still considered young? I mean, Snape's the youngest headmaster by about a hundred years." Ginny smiled as she spoke.

"So it's not weird they're single? Remus, and Sirius, and Snape and them." Harry's voice was bemused.

"No - I mean, your parents are different, because of the times they lived in, but mostly people don't marry till loads later. I mean, you risk being married to someone for 100 years if you're a wizard. No wonder there's such a high suicide rate."

"Ron!" Sister and Girlfriend hexed him casually. He squirmed under the tickling, only to see Harry sitting back.

"Help me, you're supposed to be my friend!C'mon Harry."

"I'm not getting in the way of my girlfriend." He removed the hexes, and sat back quietly.

"So Harry's parents were really unusual?"

"Not for Muggle-borns. They tend to marry younger. Magical fertility is the same in both Muggle-borns and Purebloods. It's only prejudice. That and familial pressure to have grandchildren. Really old families used to make a point of marrying really late, just so that everyone knew. And they'd only have one, maybe two children. It all changed with Voldemort. People were scared of losing their kids. And we've only got lots of kids , because we wanted at least one girl. And mum wanted lots of kids. She'd have had more, if it weren't for everything else..."

"Oh." Ron looked upset at Ginny's words, but she continued without noticing his response.

"Our parents - well, mum's nearing seventy. She was at school with McGonagall, you know. And Dad's seventy next birthday. McGonagall was a prefect when they were kids."

"Wow." It hadn't occurred to Harry his parents were out of the ordinary.

"There are some that marry young. I mean, the Lestranges got married right out of school. There are all sorts of guesses why. And it's not unusual for there to be twenty or thirty year age gaps. Hell, some people have married teachers." Ron squirmed at the thought as he voiced it.

"So did they have a child? The Lestranges I mean - they were big Voldemort supporters." This was Ginny.

"It was assumed if they did it went to Voldemort. No one ever saw one. The Wedding was all over the prophet. No one mentioned it at the trial. But for Purebloods they were unusual, to say the least. Oh, of course there are love matches, in the Wizarding world." Hermione was looking scandalised at him. "And it's frequently people they knew at school. But often there's a ten year gap. For all we're allowed to use magic at seventeen, we're not seen as grown-ups much before thirty."

"But Snape was teaching in his twenties."

"He also was invited to school a year early - no one knows how they convinced the book to send out the invitation. And he's widely regarded as one of the greatest Potions Masters ever. Even Sirius said that much." For Harry's Godfather to say that meant a great deal.

"Most of his stuff was published under Dumbledore's name - no one would accept it under his own. Not after the downfall of Voldemort. I found some of his early stuff one day in 'Potions', but it stops around 1982. Dumbledore hadn't published for fifty years. Then it starts cropping up again. I put two and two together. That, and some of the anonymous stuff." Harry goggled at Hermione. "He also understands more languages than Barty Crouch Senior. Tell that to Percy."

"How do you girls know all this?" Hermione answered Ron first.

"I started to research him for Modern Magic*. Our extended essays can be on anything - I started doing it on the re-integration of society after the downfall of Voldemort."

"And Snape told you?"

"No. But Dumbledore helped me. So did Remus. He suffered with it as well - Dark Creature, Dark Lord, QED." Harry digested this new information rapidly.

The train seemed to be slowing down. Like the Knight Bus, everything else on the tracks presumably got out of the way. After all, a red steam train going down the East Coast Main Line was somewhat unusual - after all GNER livery was blue, and electric.

They were passing through North London now, the glass of the Alexandra Palace glinting with the setting sun. Harry gathered his things together, transfiguring his robes into jeans and a t-shirt. "I wish I could do this with all my clothes. Wandless Magic does tend to come in useful. Normally I'm so mad about Dudley's things that they shrink to fit me."

"I was going to wait until the platform, but you might want to read this." Hermione gave him a small book, and then followed it with a larger one. "This one's about wandless magic, and that one's about a form of meditation. Basically it's about thinking through situations, and then working out how you might deal with them. Or else imagining yourself to be someone else, or something else, andhow you might respond. You can practice with stories. I thought it might help your focus for wandless stuff. Sirius should be able to help as well. It should make it a lot easier round the Dursleys." Harry tucked them into his clothes - he'd enchanted plenty of pockets.

"Can you put a glamour on my wand? M ake it look like a fountain pen?" Ginny and Ron looked confused at Harry's request. "It's a kind of quill - Muggles use it."

"I know - but why's it called a FOUNTAIN pen? I mean..." Ron shut up at Hermione's glare.

"Because it can make a fountain of ink? I don't know. I just want to have it handy. I've got a quaffle charm on it, so it won't fall out of my pocket - it sticks it there." Hermione quickly muttered the charm, and gave it back to Harry.

"Look, I know you don't have an owl now. If you want to borrow Pig - well, it's thanks to your God-father that I've even got him."

"Thanks, Ron."

They got off the train, Harry picking up his enchanted trunk. Somehow he always got everything into it. Dudleyalways complained he never had enough things, and he took an entire car-full to Smeltings. Before he went through the barrier, a hand brushed his shoulder. Ginny kissed him quickly, and headed to where her elder brothers were waiting.

"Hiya, Cho. You OK?"

"Yeah. It's OK Emma, I'll be with you in a minute." She nodded to her friend Emma Fawcett, who was standing with Alison Moon, Terry Boot, and Carys Kitson, fellow Ravenclaws.

"She lives near the Diggories and the Weasleys, doesn't she?"

"Yeah - not far. They're all going back together. I still miss Cedric. But I wanted to say goodbye. And thank you. For everything." She hugged Harry awkwardly.

"It's OK. Look, if you want to keep in touch, your Owl should be able to find me. And I'll be over at the Weasleys this summer."

"I live near Hermione now, so we should be able to stay in touch." Cho's face was sad for a minute. "Look, my sister's going to mutiny - She wants to get back to something. Come over, I'll introduce you. Cynthia, this is Harry. Harry, my sister, Cynthia Chang. Cynthia's been working on the dragon reserves in Scotland . She collects some of the magical specimens up there - mostly for potions ingredients - things like dragonsfoot beetle, and fire trefoil."

"Cool. You know about me and horntails."

"Charlie told me." Their eyes lit up, and Cho double checked that Ginny wasn't about. She knew what her sister could be like, even if she was ten years too old for Harry.

"Look - if you want to owl me, here's the address - maybe we can meet up in Diagon Alley." Harry stopped to think. He'd be seventeen in a month's time, and free, to an extent. "Sure. Looking forward to it." New friends, adult friends, would be welcome.

Cho turned round to him quickly. "Look, do you know what's going on. Only - well, no one knows. Most of the Dementors have left Azkaban. All the Death Eaters in there have escaped. Including the Lestranges, and loads of others. Rosier, Wilkes, that lot. They tell you more than they tell the Aurors. Dad knows nothing. Neither does Mum. Not that they're telling us much."

Harry shook his head. They went through the barrier last of all, having watched some of the others Port-Key off the station. Some of them Apparated, or caught Muggle forms of transport. Some Flooed in from magic fires conjured illegally on the platform. The Weasleys had already gone.

The Dursleys weren't there. Professor Figg had come to pick him up - and she was standing there.

"I thought you weren't coming back. Not till Ginny said you were talking to the Changs."

"Sorry."

"We need to talk." It was only then he noticed the expression on her face.