The House That Cedric Built

King's Cross

It was misty and dim at the station, which rather fit Draco's mood. It was too bad for Scorpius, though; for his sake Draco would have wished for bright, cheery sunshine.

He reminded himself to smile for Scorpius' sake, or at least to act normal. He couldn't quite manage many genuine smiles on the day that he had to say goodbye to his son, the most difficult thing Draco could remember doing in a long, long time.

"It's here!" Scorpius said. "I didn't know it would already be here! Are we late?"

"No of course not, Scorpius. Settle yourself. We're perfectly on time."

"Can I go on right now, Father?" Scorpius said eagerly, and Draco's heart gave a painful thud.

"Wait. Calm down. You'll be getting on soon enough."

"But I want to go now!" Scorpius said belligerently.

Draco pulled Scorpius closer and spoke into his ear. "Show some consideration for your mother's feelings, please," he said sternly, and Scorpius looked abashed.

"It's all right, dear," said Astoria with a gentle smile. "You're excited. That's perfectly natural."

"It's Hogwarts, Mother!" said Scorpius, and Draco could remember his own excitement at the prospect so many years ago as if it was yesterday. The world had seemed limitless back then. His friends near him, a golden future before him...

What did Scorpius see in his own future?

The fog parted slightly, revealing a gaggle of Potters and Weasleys, and Draco stepped back to let them pass. Despite the inclusion of some non-redheads in the crowd, they all still seemed depressingly similar: loud and boisterous, with no decorum at all. One of them had to be Potter's younger son, who was supposed to be in Scorpius' year.

His son and Harry Potter's, starting school together. Who knew what relationships would be started, or made impossible forever, during this trip.

Weasley was talking to his daughter Rose, also in Scorpius' year and already in her robes, strongly reminiscent of her mother in her eagerness to get to her academic future. Draco nodded stiffly to Potter and Weasley as they noticed him. Twenty years after they'd gone to school together, he still had little use for either of them.

It seemed like too short a time till Scorpius' trunk and owl cage were on the train, and Scorpius was about to leave. Starting his own future, away from his parents, taking a part of them with him and leaving them emptier than before he'd come into their lives. The small hand that shook Draco's in goodbye was clammy with nerves, but his smile was so bright that Draco longed to pull Scorpius into his arms and never let him go.

But he wouldn't embarrass his son with a display like that. Their private farewells had been said at the Manor, and this was a time for them all to acknowledge that Scorpius was growing into a young man.

The train pulled out and Draco watched Potter waving to his two boys, and had a rare moment of complete sympathy. There was almost an air of bereavement on Potter's face under its cheerful front.

Astoria slipped her hand into the crook of Draco's arm, and he held her close. It was just the two of them again. They stayed together for a moment, then Astoria stepped back. "Oh, I just spotted Queenie," she said. "Is it still all right for her to come to our house for dinner?" Draco nodded. "I'll go talk to her, then. Go on ahead to our brooms; I'll catch up."

Draco gave her a kiss and turned to leave the station, passing by the Potter and Weasley herd, now missing a few of the older children but augmented by some smaller ones that must have emerged from the mists like loud ginger wraiths. He nodded as he walked past Potter and Weasley again.

"Draco?" said a voice behind him. "Can I talk to you?"

He turned, and smiled warmly at the woman walking up to him. "Hello, Hermione," he said. "Of course."

August 27, 2017: Dear Tiggy

Dear Tiggy:

I know Scorpius gave you instructions regarding what he did and didn't want you to pack for him for Hogwarts. I'm putting this in writing so that you can show it to him if he gets angry and accuses you of disobeying orders.

Please make sure Scorpius has his Mr. Gummidge when he goes to bed the first night he's at school. I know he said he's too old for it, but trust me, he's going to want it his first night so far away from home and I have no desire for a repetition of the nightmare incident with the sleepover at the Davises.

Please Apparate directly to whichever House he's Sorted to. I've knitted four scarves for Mr. Gummidge; please put the appropriate one on him.

Thanks,

Mistress

ooo000ooo
August 27, 1998: Girlfriend of the Boy Who Lived

"Who are the Head Boy and Girl?" asked Millie, her voice low, as she scrubbed the second-last cauldron.

"Ginny Weasley, that's a cinch," whispered Queenie, her scrub brush paused, scorn evident in her voice. "Girlfriend of the Boy Who Saved Us All Again." She paused. "Think I prefer The Head Girl who Gives Head to Our Saviour. And for Head Boy, would you believe they asked Neville Longbottom?"

Millie's eyes widened and she sat back on her heels. "He couldn't, he's eighth-year."

"Apparently that's what he said, too."

"Who is it, then?"

"Mauricius Fiddlethwaite."

Millie blinked. "Who the hell is that?"

"Exactly," said Queenie, and gave a disdainful sniff. "But completely unobjectionable in every way."

Draco gave his own cauldron a swipe. "Isn't he the one who carried on the DA after Weasley and Lovegood and Longbottom were gone?"

Queenie nodded. "Sort of. Except Longbottom wasn't really gone, he was just hiding. Fiddlethwaite was more like his spokesman than a real leader."

"That's hardly fair, you know," said Millie. "They talk forgiveness and working together, but then stack everything with people from Potter's side. Why couldn't they put someone at least slightly sympathetic to us in there?"

"There's building bridges and then there's being an idiot," said Queenie. "Who should've been Head Boy? A Slytherin? Get a dose of reality, please." She looked at the row of cauldrons. "D'you reckon that's clean enough?"

"The Hufflepuffs can finish them," said Millie carelessly. "It's more their kind of thing."

"And don't be a twat," said Queenie, her voice suddenly harsh. "We were assigned this room to clean. We will do it well, magic or no. That last cauldron of yours needs another wipe."

"And remember, they're not Hufflepuffs any more," said Draco, and bent over his own cauldron one last time.

ooo000ooo
August 29, 2017: You Are Cordially Invited

Dear Mr. Malfoy:

It has been nineteen years since the defeat of Voldemort, formerly known as You-Know-Who, and the Ministry of Magic's Department of British Wizarding Archives has been busy preparing various projects to mark the twentieth anniversary. As a member of the group of students who helped to make Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry ready for the new post-Voldemort world, and helped us to usher in a new era of peace and reconciliation in the wizarding world, you and your classmates are invited to participate in one such project, under the direction of noted Master Archivist Maximus Lore. Your involvement would consist mostly of interviews conducted by the research team, but we would also be grateful for any mementos you may have of the post-war period, such as letters, newspaper articles, and other personal items. There has been significant preliminary enthusiasm for this project so far from Hogwarts. Our hope is to put together a museum exhibit, and possibly a book, describing the first school year post-Voldemort at Hogwarts and its legacy within the wizarding world.

We will be holding an information session for you and your housemates on December 1. We eagerly anticipate your reply to this request for your participation. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to contact us, by owl or Floo, as the Department of British Wizarding Archives does not condone text messaging.

Sincerely,

Gerald Sutcliffe,

Assistant Archivist, Ministry of Magic

ooo000ooo
August 29, 1998: She turned it down

"She turned it down," said Queenie as the Slytherins tried to look like they weren't huddled together next to the fireplace in their small common room.

"Who? What?" asked Millie.

"Ginny Weasley. The Head Girl position. She's not going to do it."

"Why not?" asked Draco.

"After last year?" Neville Longbottom shook his head, leaning forward to poke at the fire, then sat down next to Queenie. "And with everything that happened to her family?"

Draco and Millie looked at each other, and he could tell she was struggling with the impulse to tell him to shove off and go talk to somebody who actually wanted him to be part of their conversation, but...

Queenie blinked, then gave Longbottom an insincere smile. "Poor thing. I suppose it would be difficult, wouldn't it? She's brave to come back to school at all."

"She didn't want to do that either," said Longbottom.

"Didn't she?" said Dean Thomas, joining them as well.

"No," said Granger, taking a seat next to him, and now they were an even split of Slytherin and Gryffindor. And, ugh, the rest of them - minus Hannah Abbott and Anthony Goldstein, who were snogging heatedly in a corner - were all gathering on the floor and on low chairs next to the fire, and now the Slytherins were outnumbered. "Said she never wanted to see this place again. Can't say I blame her."

It was odd, thought Draco, to know exactly how any Weasley felt.

"So how did she end up coming back? Can't imagine her parents forcing her," said Thomas. "Or her giving in."

Draco glanced at Millie, reading in her blunt features the same impatience he felt at all these bloody outsiders barging into their conversation. Queenie, on the other hand, looked curious.

Getting to know the new power structure. How self-serving, and disgusting.

And politically astute. Draco schooled his own features into polite interest.

"Harry convinced her, actually," said Granger.

"Really?"

"Shortly after they got engaged," said Granger, and the girls in the group gasped. Longbottom had a small smile on his face.

"So it's true!" said Lavender Brown. "I wasn't sure. I heard she proposed."

"Weren't they broken up last year?" asked Parvati Patil.

"So what happened?" asked Thomas, and Draco vaguely remembered he had dated the Weasley girl too... hadn't he?

"She asked him, yes," said Granger. "And he got rather miffed because he'd already made reservations at a restaurant to ask her. Had the ring and everything."

The others laughed. "So did she give him a ring?" asked Patil.

"I don't think so," said Granger. "Look at her finger next time you see her, though. Hers is gorgeous."

Probably worth more than her entire family owns, Draco thought, and had to content himself with just looking at Queenie. She hid a smirk and nodded avidly. "So who is Head Girl, then?"

"No clue," said Granger.

"They didn't ask you?"

Granger gave Queenie a level stare. "The Head Girl is supposed to be a seventh-year student," she said firmly, and apparently that was that, as far as she was concerned.

ooo000ooo
August 30, 2017: All of you

Astoria huffed out her breath with impatience. "Well, I'm going. You don't have to," she said, and Draco rolled his eyes because Merlin, she knew that got to him. "You'll be glaringly evident in your absence though."

"Why? How many are supposedly attending?"

"Thirteen, says Hermione. Plus spouses."

"All of them?" Draco asked, surprised.

"All of you," Astoria retorted.

ooo000ooo
August 30, 1998: By the numbers

There were forty-one of us when we were Sorted eight years ago. Ten Slytherin, ten Gryffindor, ten Ravenclaw, and eleven Hufflepuff. Twenty-two boys, nineteen girls.

Draco wrote the words carefully, paying proper attention to the shape of each letter. No need to hurry on this; he wasn't writing an essay or a letter to his parents. He wasn't needed anywhere, nobody was demanding his leadership, nobody wanted to scare him, nobody even wanted to talk to him. He was just writing to pass the time.

He continued, not really knowing what would come next, just letting idle thoughts flicker from his brain to the parchment.

Missing in September of 7th year: 12
- 9 Mudbggle-borns (Roper, Thomas, Finch-Fletchley, Matthews, Boot, Entwhistle, Granger, Moon, Turpin)
- Potter & Weasley
- Li (always claimed to be half-blood; either lied, or wasn't sure enough of it to face Umbridge's investigators)

This was only meant for himself, but it could conceivably fall into other hands. He murmured a simple spell to make Muggle-born look as though it hadn't been half-scratched out.

Pulled out by parents: 6
- Rivers, both Patils, Abbott, Brocklehurst, Davis
- all families left England when school became compulsory.

Hiding at the Room of Requirement by the end of the year: 6
- Longbottom, Finnigan, Brown, Goldstein, Corner, Macmillan
=> 24 who didn't complete 7th year, 17 who did

He paused and glanced around the empty dorm room. It didn't look half-bad, for a room that had been a rather large pile of crumbled stone not so long ago. He debated changing Abbott from the "pulled out" to the "missing" column, as she was a Muggle-born who would've been missing anyway, but... she'd already left school the year before. When her mother was killed. He left her where she was.

"Malfoy?"

He turned, surprised to see Longbottom at the door. "Yes?"

"We're going down to the Great Hall," Longbottom said. "Are you coming?"

"No," said Draco. "Thank you," he added hastily, and Longbottom's eyebrows went up slightly. "I'm not hungry."

"Right." Longbottom turned and left.

Of the 12 'Missing'
- 2 remain missing (Matthews, Li)
- 2 died (Roper, found by Catchers & died in Azkaban; Finch-Fletchley in the Battle of Hogwarts)
- 5 left wizarding world or decided not to return to school
=> 3 (Thomas, Granger and Turpin) in 8th year.

Of the 6 pulled out by parents
- 3 never came back
- 1 finished at Beauxbatons
=> two (Patil, Parvati, and Abbott) in 8th.

Of the 6 in hiding:
- Corner did an equivalency test
=> 5 (Finnigan, Longbottom, Macmillan, Goldstein, Brown) in 8th year

Draco sighed and looked around at the dormitory, then worked on a kink in his neck. He sighed and wished for the umpteenth time that he didn't have to be here.

Of the 17 who were still attending classes in May, some left the country, knowing that many people would see finishing Hogwarts that year as a mark of shame rather than distinction. Everyone knew what was being taught. Two of us went to prison because of it. Some said it was unfair to blame the students for having followed course curriculum, but enough witnesses told how Goyle and Cornfoot enjoyed the whole Cruciatus thing that public opinion went against them.

One died in the battle.

And four of us came back for eighth year. For Bones it was about "getting a proper education". For Bulstrode and Greengrass it was less about actually getting a proper education than being seen to be getting a proper education. For me it was a condition of my probation.

Draco looked around again. The dormitory had been hastily put together, and showed it. The walls were a bland light grey; no decorations, no House insignia. They'd been a little busy helping to rebuild the castle, mostly without the aid of magic for safety reasons, to worry about interior décor.

So here we are, all fourteen eighth-years. Six Gryffindors, three Hufflepuffs, two Ravenclaws, three Slytherins. They didn't know where to put us, so MM said they should make a new House. I'm now sharing a dorm room with Finnigan, Thomas, Longbottom, Macmillan, and Goldstein. Five members of Dumbledore's Army, five blokes who went into hiding in the Room of Requirement or were on the run all year... and me.

It's grand. Really. I'm ever so happy.

Draco put the book away into his trunk. He stood up and started to get ready for bed, reflecting that he probably should go downstairs instead. They were supposed to be getting to know each other, getting to work as a House. It was a bad idea to not be there while the initial jockeying for position was going on. It was allowing the Diggory House boys to become a unit, except for him. He was the add-on.

He put his journal away and reluctantly got ready to go downstairs. He was part of this House now, sod it all, and he had to be part of it. Besides, Queenie and Millie might be feeling a little uncomfortable about being the only Slytherins.

He made his way downstairs and looked over Diggory House's table. Damn. The only room left was next to Lisa Turpin, who seemed to be being getting the cold shoulder, intentionally or not. Not surprising; she wasn't one of the ten members of Dumbledore's Army in their House. They'd even wanted to be called Dumbledore House. It had been Granger, oddly, who had objected, saying that they were supposed to be a House together, and not excluding those who hadn't been part of Dumbledore's Army.

He sat down, forcing himself to not squirm as the others ignored him. He glanced over the empty Great Hall, bracing himself for the moment when the rest of the school showed up. He needed to be part of his House before then.

Somehow he didn't think that was going to happen any time soon.

ooo000ooo
September 1, 2017: Can I talk to you?

"How is Scorpius?" Hermione asked.

"Excited. And Rose? Is she looking forward to getting there?"

Hermione smiled. "Yes. She has been, forever."

Draco could imagine that. "Like mother, like daughter."

Hermione nodded, then smiled sadly. "It's difficult, though, isn't it? Seeing them go."

Astoria approached, wiping a tear away, and Draco put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her close. "Hello, Hermione," she said. "Queenie'll be a little late," she told Draco. "What a shock. So," she turned back to Hermione. "I couldn't help overhearing... is Rose actually afraid of not getting into Gryffindor?"

Hermione shook her head. "Not really. She knows Ron's just joking. I hope." Draco didn't let himself react. "I wouldn't mind Ravenclaw, to be honest," she continued. "And Scorpius? Where is he hoping to go?"

"Very much hoping he doesn't go into our House, to be honest," said Draco.

"Really?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Hermione, please. Don't pretend to be thick. It's not attractive in a woman your age."

"Maybe he'll be a Ravenclaw too," said Astoria.

"You never know," Hermione said. "It might be nice to be able to cheer for your own team when you go see Quidditch games."

Draco chuckled. "Come now, you and I won't be able to cheer for our Quidditch team... ever, really."

Hermione smiled back. They glanced around at the people getting ready to go, the smaller children with their parents, Hugo Weasley and Potter's daughter playing some imaginary game and telling each other stories of what they'd do when they finally got to take the train...

"Speaking of our team, are you coming to the reunion?" asked Hermione.

Draco stiffened slightly.

Hermione sighed. "Come on, Draco. It's your reunion too."

"Keep telling him that," Astoria said. "I do."

Draco looked away. "I wasn't really... you know how people felt about me at the time. They still do."

"Not everyone, you know that," said Hermione. "And even if some do--"

"I'm not terribly interested."

"But... Draco, it's your history too."

He looked away.

"Astoria, you'll work on him?" said Hermione.

"Absolutely," chuckled Astoria. She took Draco's arm and they walked off, heading towards a home that was going to be much quieter and neater and much emptier from now on.

ooo000ooo
September 1, 1998: Those cunning folks

Draco glanced over the Slytherin table, noting its sadly subdued air. There were hardly any seventh-years. Last year their table had had the fewest empty seats, since Muggle-borns never went into Slytherin, but this year... Draco counted. There should be roughly sixty. There were fewer than forty.

How many pureblood families had gone overseas? How many were hesitant to send their children to a school where they would likely be shunned by the rest of the students? How many didn't want to send them to a school that had witnessed the ugly final death of pureblooded ideals in wizarding Britain?

How many didn't want their children to go to a school that only last year had taught them how to Crucio one another?

He glanced up as one of the new children was Sorted into Slytherin. The boy gulped audibly, then reluctantly made his way to the Slytherin table. The others at the table were clapping unenthusiastically, and only Professor Slughorn was jovially cheering.

Draco's eye was caught by a girl with long brown hair sitting proudly, her back straight, her chin up, among the seventh-years. Astoria Greengrass, Queenie's younger sister. Quiet little thing, intelligent eyes. Mostly apolitical, like her sister.

Astoria half-stood, holding out her hand to the new boy, smiling at him, and gave her tablemates a stern look. Her tablemates welcomed him half-heartedly.

Draco's eyebrows went up. That one would bear watching, his mind said automatically.

No, she wouldn't. He wasn't part of that House any more. He wasn't part of power plays any more. He wasn't a political entity any more. The Malfoys had fallen too far by any stretch of the imagination to do anything any more but keep their heads down and try not to offend. Father was in prison, Mother's social position was precarious at best, people from all sides hated them, and what he'd learned most last year was that he didn't care what happened around him, as long as he could stay safe.

He turned back to his meal.

ooo000ooo
September 1, 2017: A ready mind

Draco sat back, pleased, but a bit sorry, too.

"Oh that's wonderful," said Astoria, pleased, reading Scorpius' text message. "You'll be sure to tell him so."

"I'll tell him I'm very proud of him, and that I know he will continue to make us proud."

"And you'll mean it, too," said Astoria, touching his shoulder. "And he'll know it."

Draco smiled. It helped to hear that. Helped allay the sorrow he felt at the tentative tone of his son's message.

"He knew you'd be proud of him whatever happened. He knew it. You're not your father." Astoria regarded him seriously. "But he also knew no choice the Hat made would make you perfectly happy. And he knew that wasn't his fault."

Draco gently tugged his wife's hand to bring her closer, and gave her a kiss.

ooo000ooo
September 1, 1998: Welcome to grimness

"I would like to welcome you all to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Headmistress McGonagall, then paused and looked at the students assembled in the Great Hall for so long that Draco wondered if perhaps she was just going to skip the welcoming speech. He wondered if he was the only one remembering that Snape had barely said anything the day he began as Headmaster beyond welcoming them, introducing their new professors, and advising them to always be on their best behaviour and do credit to their school "or face consequences." Even the change in the curriculum from "Defence Against the Dark Arts" to "Dark Arts" hadn't merited a mention.

"As many of you are aware, it was hardly a given that the school would open at all this year. Much of the school was rubble. And, more importantly, we lost many good friends, professors and students." She looked them over grimly. "But. We are here. We are ready to begin again, and do our best despite the wounds that have yet to heal.

"We begin the new year in a school that is only half-rebuilt. You will need to be careful not to wander into dangerous areas in the building, careful not to do more damage through your own carelessness. You will need to be no less careful when dealing with people. The summer has not been long enough for any of us to recover from our wounds, as serious as the wounds inflicted on the building itself. There will be friends, classmates and housemates who have lost family members. There will be many who were badly hurt here last year, and many who spent time in hiding, or in Azkaban. You may be one of them, or you may be one of the lucky ones who escaped relatively undamaged. Regardless, it will not be an easy year. But you are young, you are resilient, and you are our hope.

"No other group of children in Hogwarts' history has been put through so much, or has been asked to do so much, or has accomplished so much, as those who have been in this school in the last seven years. I do not want any of you to forget that the reason we are here is due in large part to students from this school who had not a single NEWT among the three of them when they helped to defeat a wizard who held the wizarding world in fear for decades. And they were helped by students in this school, many of whom are still with us. If they could accomplish such great deeds, so can you.

"This will be a difficult academic year for many of you. Some of you lost an entire year of education, none of you completed a standard curriculum, and you will need to work hard in order to complete last year's work as well as this one's. Doing so in addition to dealing with the damage done by the war will not be easy, but you will do it.

"In acknowledgement that this year will be filled with challenges and will require innovation, some changes have been made to the school. One new addition to this school is a new House. The Sorting Hat will not place anybody into it; it is for the students who have chosen to return to the school for an eighth year, or who were unable to come to their seventh year, and wish to do it now. They have been here for the last three weeks, helping to reconstruct Hogwarts. They will be here for their own education, but also to help rebuild the school. You are encouraged to seek them out. They were from different Houses, but they are becoming one. Becoming united again is what we hope for this school this year, and these are the student leaders who will help to make that happen.

She took out a long scroll. "There are also certain new rules." Her voice became hard and uncompromising. "Along with the regular rules forbidding magic in the corridors and entry into the Forbidden Forest, no divisive language will be permitted." She paused and looked up. "Normally we leave this to your discretion. This year, we will not. The words Mudblood, Blood Traitor, Junior Death Eater, Death Eater Spawn, and all others of that kind, are all prohibited. Use of any of these words will earn the speaker an immediate detention. There will also be no anti-House language permitted. Any negative epithet containing a House name will result in a detention. We may not be able or willing to control your thoughts, but we will control what comes out of your mouths.

"We must live together this year, and you must further your education. There are appropriate areas in which to seek justice for what happened in the past. Hogwarts is not one of them. There will be no exceptions. Anybody attempting to take revenge for last year's violence on school grounds will be expelled and given the opportunity to complete his or her schooling at home.

"Nobody is asking that you love each other and become the best of friends, or even forgive one another. We are merely asking that you put aside your conflicts with one another and concentrate on your academic future.

"In this, the members of Diggory House are to be your role models."

Draco felt his spine crawl with discomfort. Not a single one of the members of his table turned to look at him, all keeping their eyes fixed on McGonagall.

ooo000ooo
September 1, 2017: Your nephew

"Your nephew, the werewolf's son," said Queenie, over supper, "is apparently dating Victoire Weasley. Who is, I am told, the new Head Girl."

"Really?"

"Really. My daughter pointed them out to me at the station today. Snogging, right there in the open."

"Yes, Draco's aunt said something about him being rather smitten this year. I didn't know it was with the Weasley girl."

"It is. Pretty enough, but rather common for all she's got Veela blood in her." Queenie gave a small sniff. "Girlfriends aside, that boy certainly has come a long way, considering his background." She nodded in approval. "Head Boy last year and accepted into the Unspeakable Apprenticeship program this year. Shows what I've always said: you cannot take for granted how somebody will do, no matter where they came from."

Astoria's blue eyes met Draco's, and he had to stifle a smirk.

"I only wish somebody would tell him to leave his hair one simple, human colour. Today it was purple. The last time I saw it, it was blue."

Astoria smiled. "Aunt Andromeda says he spent about half his childhood with it pitch black. For his godfather."

Queenie shuddered.

ooo000ooo
September 1, 1998: The Head Girl

McGonagall continued. "Other students who are here to help you in this year are your Prefects, each of whom can be identified by his or her Prefect Badge. You may turn to any of them for help, particularly those of your House. They are also responsible for helping professors to enforce school rules, and occasionally acting as go-betweens between faculty and students." She nodded and the various Prefects stood up, some proudly, some warily, some indifferently. The last year had been a trying one for Prefects, Draco knew. Nightmares and magic in the corridors were the least of the problems they'd had to deal with.

"We also have a Head Boy and Head Girl," said McGonagall. "You may turn to them for advice and guidance." She nodded towards the Ravenclaw table. "The Head Boy this year is Mauricius Fiddlethwaite, from Ravenclaw House." Fiddlethwaite stood up and the students clapped for him, a hesitant sound to match the hesitant look on the Fiddlethwaite's face. McGonagall's speech was not exactly the most inspiring thing Draco had ever heard, as far as encouraging anybody, let alone schoolchildren...

As Fiddlethwaite sat down, McGonagall cleared her throat and spoke again. "And the Head Girl is Astoria Greengrass, from Slytherin House."

There was a shocked silence. Then Granger started clapping, and the others in Diggory House joined in, and then nervous clapping began at the Slytherin table and spread fitfully to the rest of the Great Hall. Queenie sat open-mouthed as Astoria stood up, her face carefully blank, and nodded politely to the Hall in general. The applause died away quickly, and Astoria sat back down.

ooo000ooo
September 3, 2017: Tiggy

"Tiggy, it's all right," said Astoria, her voice an odd mixture of sorrowful, soothing, and a little impatient. "It was a mistake, that's all."

"Tiggy is not supposed to make Mistress sad!" sobbed the little elf. "Tiggy made Mistress cry!"

Draco's impatience grew. How could a simple dinner at home with his wife turn into this? He blew out his breath.

"And now Master is unhappy!" Tiggy wailed, and Draco rolled his eyes.

"Master is not unhappy, Tiggy," said Draco, his patient tone hiding an itch to smack the ugly little thing. "Master is hungry. Can Tiggy please do something about that?"

"Yes, Master!" Tiggy hiccupped, and disappeared with a crack.

"Draco. She misses Scorpius too, you know," said Astoria reprovingly, wiping her eyes.

"How hard is it to set two places instead of three?" said Draco. "And she should know better than to break into wails over a simple--"

"Obviously, she should know better," Astoria broke in. "But we took her in because she's been given clothes at three different places and she needed a family to serve."

"We'd be better off serving ourselves," muttered Draco.

"Don't be surly, Draco. She's upset."

"She's more trouble than she's worth."

"Missing somebody you care about is hard on everyone," said Astoria. "Tiggy deals with it by crying. I deal with it by working harder. You deal with it by getting belligerent."

Draco glared at her. Astoria had a bad habit of being right a great deal of the time.

ooo000ooo
September 3, 1998: Three

It sometimes felt like student life was something Draco had left behind years ago, even though the last school year had ended abruptly only four months ago. He had thought that he would be used to it again after living in the castle for the last few weeks, but three days into classes he was still gripped with a feeling of unreality, like he was trying to fit into clothing he'd discarded before puberty. Possibly because he didn't have his friends with him, or because he was taking courses he'd never thought he'd take, or because he wasn't living in the dungeon any more. He didn't know; all he knew was that it all still felt off, and wrong.

The members of Diggory House were back in the common room after dinner, and Draco had taken his accustomed place in the corner far from the fireplace. He took out his books and prepared to study, reflecting that part of the problem was that, academically, there was really little point to him being here. He had learned a fair bit last year. And as for socially... that was a laugh. He wasn't ever going to be accepted as a member of this new House, no matter what he did. He'd never been close to Queenie and Millie and certainly wouldn't become so now that all three of them were trying to avoid being thought of as Slytherins.

And as for being a role model for the other children, as Diggory House members were supposed to be... that was an even bigger laugh. Other than the obvious heroes like Granger and Longbottom, there was no reason for the younger students to look up to anybody in this House. He was frankly scornful of McGonagall's having placed them in that position in the first place. Besides, he didn't have the time or desire to help anyone, or to role model anything. Not that anyone had asked him.

He was startled to hear his thoughts echoed by another voice in the room, and put down his textbook and looked towards the fireplace seats, where Susan Bones was speaking vehemently to a group of former DA members.

"I mean, seriously, what does she want from us? We're supposed to be leaders here? Haven't we done enough? Why is it our year that has to do this?" She tossed her hair back impatiently. "Hermione, Ron and Harry killed V-Voldemort. Ten of us were in Dumbledore's Army. Five of us ended up in the Room of Requirement, hiding." She shivered. "And the ones who didn't... listening to little kids crying from Cruciatus, listening to the rubbish those Muggle Studies people taught, it was... and for God's sake, two of our year died--"

"Three," said Draco.

There was a sudden silence.

"What?"

"Three," he repeated evenly. "Not two."

He didn't need to look around to know that some people were gaping, some glaring at him.

"If you think that Crabbe--"

"I'm not saying he was killed by anything but his own stupidity," said Draco hollowly. "And I've never said his name deserved to be on that monument along with Finch-Fletchley and Weasley's brother and Professor Lupin. And I'm not going to debate that he was a victim instead of just another Death Eater. But he was in our year, and he did die."

"After what he did--" began Anthony Goldstein.

"I know what he did," Draco said harshly. "To you, and to other students. If he hadn't died he would've ended up filling a cell in Azkaban right next to Goyle. And my father. I won't even say he wouldn't have deserved it. But he doesn't deserve to be completely forgotten." Draco stood up, his voice steady though his legs were shaking.

"Hate him all you want; it doesn't change the fact that he was in our year just like Justin Finch-Fletchley and Sarah Roper. He may not have been a 'hero' like Finch-Fletchley or a victim like Roper, but he's just as dead as both of them." There were tears on his cheeks, he realized distantly. "And he was only seventeen when he died, just like them. Try to remember that." Draco picked up his work and headed for the dormitory, drawing his curtains closed as soon as he could.

It hurt, sometimes, so much. It hurt when he let himself think about it. Crabbe, burning up in that hellish room that still appeared in Draco's nightmares. There hadn't been a body to recover; Fiendfyre destroyed all it touched.

He lay still, breathing quietly and trying to think of positive things, keeping the ache in his throat from turning into pointless blubbering. Repeating comforting words to himself. A list of foods he liked. A list of Weird Sisters songs he enjoyed. A list of Charms against insects.

There was a soft step outside his curtains.

"Malfoy?" said Longbottom quietly.

"What?"

There was a short silence. "Can you open the curtains?"

Draco opened them. "What do you want?"

Longbottom sighed and sat down on Draco's bed uninvited. "I'm sorry. About Crabbe."

Draco gave him a sceptical look.

"All right, I'm not really. I'm sorry, though, that you... miss him." He paused. "Do you?"

"He was my friend," Draco said.

"Didn't seem to be. Seemed to be more like your servant."

Draco shrugged.

"Hermione said that he disobeyed you," Neville said. "That day."

Draco shrugged again. "He wasn't my servant."

"But she said you still asked about him. After he'd nearly killed you and Goyle too."

"He was my friend," Draco repeated dully.

"Was he?" Longbottom hesitated. "Did you like him?"

"What kind of question is that? And why does it matter?"

"Fine. Sorry." Longbottom stood up. "I won't bother you. I just wanted to say sorry."

Draco nodded, and Longbottom headed for the door.

"He liked Transfiguration," Draco said, surprising himself. Longbottom turned around. "He was pants at it, but he liked it. And he liked eating. A lot. Was scared of Muggles. Hated to wear a skirt."

"A what?"

Draco shook his head, the lump in his throat eased somewhat. "Long story." He lay back and picked up a textbook.

Longbottom gave him a smile, and left.

ooo000ooo
October 4, 2017: A modest proposal

The Fifth House:
Diggory House at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Introduction (2 pages): What is the Fifth House? Who was Cedric Diggory?

Part I, The War (10 pages): Voldemort's First Rising, The Order of the Phoenix, Voldemort's Second Rising, Dumbledore's Army, Dark Days At Hogwarts. (Includes brief insert biographies of Tom Riddle, Albus Dumbledore, Severus Snape, and Harry Potter)

Part II, Victory (6 pages): Harry Potter, Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, Dumbledore's Army at Hogwarts, The Order of the Phoenix, the Battle of Hogwarts

Part III, After Victory (4 pages): The dead and wounded, the Ministry, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Muggle-borns freed from Azkaban, families reunited, Minerva McGonagall

Part IV, Healing Hogwarts (8 pages): Rebuilding the building, magic, volunteers, organizations, Ministry aid, international aid

Part V, A Fifth House is Proposed (6 pages): The proposal, pros and cons of a Fifth House, purpose of the House, prospective members of the Fifth House

Part VI, The Fifth House Begins (4 pages): A name is chosen, members are decided upon, students move in, students are assigned areas to work on in the school

Part V, The New School Year Begins (7 pages): The school fills, the Fifth House begins its duties

Part VI, The House Expands (12 pages): Diggory House in the first year

Part VII, The House Survives (12 pages): Includes controversies surrounding Diggory House

Part VIII, Diggory House Today (8 pages): Influence of Diggory House at Hogwarts and in wizarding society, biographies of past members

Conclusion (2 pages): Lessons from Diggory House

Draco shook his head in wonder as he read the proposal. It all sounded so organized. So clean and neat and planned. It hadn't been.

ooo000ooo
October 4, 1998: Astoria speaks

Draco plodded down the corridor to the Great Hall, musing about Tesser numerals. Four weeks in, he'd finally become used to the routine of school again, and actually become fairly interested in Arithmancy. Today's entire lesson on Tessers had been frustratingly vague though, and had left him completely lost. It didn't help that the class was now taught by Professor Scalari, what with Professor Vector having been injured last year. Damned if he was going to ask for help from a Muggle-born.

He noted with approval that even in his thoughts he didn't call the man a Mudblood. It would never do to have anything like that slip out in an awkward moment.

"Out of the way, you," said a sixth-year Hufflepuff girl, shoving past him, and he stepped aside without a word, only a narrowing of his eyes betraying his feelings. It hadn't taken too many punishments handed out to those who said the Forbidden Words to convince students to stop using them. It didn't do a damn thing about their attitudes, though. "You" could hold as much or more venom than "Death Eater Spawn" ever could. The one gave him an identity of sorts. The other labeled him unworthy of even that.

And words and attitude weren't the only dangers for people like him. Despite all the efforts of the teachers, every day there were incidents of children getting hurt by "accidental" spells and other seemingly innocent mishaps.

The castle wasn't safe for people like him. He didn't let himself dwell on the fact that he'd felt even less safe last year.

He entered and glanced over at the Slytherin table, with its subdued children, its silence, its air of defeat. Some of them were looking a little less downtrodden than in the first week or so of class - it didn't hurt to have the Head Girl be one of your own - but it was a sad, sad contrast to last year's air of fierce pride and smug invincibility.

He found himself a seat at the Diggory table - not too close to Hannah Abbott and Dean Thomas, who were being nauseatingly demonstrative again - and took out his books, briefly considering looking over his Astronomy, then decided to work on his Muggle Studies essay on Muggle communication devices. What the hell, it was mandatory for everyone for the next two years; he might as well show that he was taking it seriously, never mind that he didn't believe three quarters of what he read, or half of what he wrote.

He was halfway through a paragraph on the differences between telephones, fax machines and internets when a throat cleared and a magically enhanced voice said, "Could I please have your attention?"

Astoria Greengrass was standing at her table, apparently about to make an announcement. She had done a few in the last few weeks - the Forbidden Forest really was Forbidden, students must use caution when practicing hexes for Defence Against the Dark Arts (with emphasis on Defence), that kind of thing. Somehow she was looking more nervous about this one.

She waited until the Great Hall was focused on her. "It has come to my attention that certain persons are not taking seriously our Headmistress' request that we treat each other with courtesy and respect. Several students have spoken to me about being targeted because of their families' political backgrounds or their House, and being victimized repeatedly and sometimes seriously. Regardless of your attitude or how you may feel towards one quarter of this school, hexing students for the crime of being in Slytherin, or of having unpopular social connections, or even of having the wrong political beliefs, is not acceptable. I sympathize, but this has to stop."

She looked around the room, her nervousness apparently gone. "To whoever sent a little boy to the Hospital wing this morning with severe vomiting and no sense of hearing: the little boy in question was too afraid to give me names. You are safe; I do not know who you are. But I would like you to think about a few things.

"If you are a Gryffindor, I would like you to ask yourself whether your founder would've approved of intimidating and hurting an eleven-year-old boy. Ask yourself if that's a particularly brave, courageous thing to do.

"If you are a Ravenclaw, consider the wisdom in taking out your frustrations on a boy who is small now, but may someday grow to be a powerful wizard who hates you and yours because you targeted him unfairly.

"If you are a Hufflepuff, ask yourself whether Helga Hufflepuff would have thought it fair to blame one child for the mistakes of his parents - or to discriminate against anybody for any reason whatsoever.

"You all know that I have disciplined students from my own House who have broken the rules. I will do no less to students from other Houses. Prefects, you have been entrusted to help other students follow the rules. If you see students under your protection behaving badly towards one another, it is your responsibility to help them stop this behaviour. I expect your cooperation. That is all."

She sat down, and a murmur broke out around the Hall. She looked supremely unconcerned, and met Draco's eyes briefly.

He looked down to his notes, then back at her, and only then noticing her hand trembling as it brought a goblet to her lips.

ooo000ooo
October 16, 2017: The Daily Prophet, Sports and Entertainment Section

Hogwarts Head Boy Steps Down

Hogwarts announced today that its Head Boy, Larry Zhou of Hufflepuff House, will be stepping down barely four weeks into his tenure. The reason is understandable, and has students and sports fans around the world cheering: Zhou has been tapped to join the Irish Quodpot team when the new season begins in February, and will need to spend many hours practicing if he wants to help his team pull out of the doldrums where it has been ever since East Wing John Lockey retired three years ago.

Zhou says the decision was a tough one. "I care about the school, obviously, and I had great plans as Head Boy. Not to mention me parents were dead pleased. But this is my career, and I had to make a choice."

Asked if he thought of simply doing his best to fulfill both duties: "Not doing them both well, no," says Zhou frankly. "Being Head Boy is hard. You have to give it your all. There's meeting with students, working with the Prefects, helping the Hospital when students are badly injured, working with the professors when students are in trouble, dealing with parents sometimes - it's all day long, every day. And I care too much about the school to only do the Head Boy position halfway. Besides, it would be very unfair to Victoire [Weasley, Head Girl] to have to do extra work if I wasn't doing my part. This way I can do me practicing, study for NEWTs, and not leave anybody in the lurch."

Why Quodpot? "I've been playing Quodpot since I was six," says Zhou. "Played with me dad. It may not be as popular as Quidditch yet, but it's gaining. Watch out, Quidditch!"

Terence Thomas, from Slytherin House, will be stepping into Zhou's spot.

ooo000ooo
October 16, 1998: Astoria visits

"Does anybody mind if my sister comes in?" asked Queenie, popping her head into the Diggory common room. There was a small rustle of surprise from the occupants. Although they had been told that the Diggory dorm was special in that it was not off-limits to members of other Houses, out of habit so far none of them had brought in any outsiders. They all tended to go into their own former Houses if they wanted to socialize.

"No, of course, she's welcome to come in," said Longbottom, who had become their leader by some quirk of a universe that obviously had a sense of humour.

"She asked, you see," said Queenie. "She's been awfully busy being Head Girl and hasn't had a chance to talk to us yet, but she'd like to see what we're all about."

Patil and Brown exchanged a look. "Oh is the Head Girl your sister, Queenie? I didn't know," said Patil sweetly, and Queenie flushed and popped out again, presumably letting her sister know it was all right to come in.

Granger gave them a quelling look. "Please, come in," she said as Astoria came into the room. "Welcome to Diggory House."

"Thank you," said Astoria, and looked around, her eyebrows drawing together slightly. "This is your common room, then? Bit... bare, isn't it?"

Draco glanced around. It was.

"Why are you here?" asked Patil, polite but not exactly friendly.

"I'm the Head Girl," Astoria replied. "I'm supposed to visit all the Houses."

"You haven't been here before."

"You're not exactly under my jurisdiction."

"We're not," said Patil. "We're all of age. We don't really need a Head Girl."

"Not that you're not welcome to come visit," said Granger, her voice edged as she glared at Patil.

Astoria met Draco's eyes, and he was surprised to see determination and intelligence and grit there. How odd; he'd been with her for six years in Slytherin, and never noticed her at all.

"Please, have a seat," said Susan Bones, gently nudging Hannah Abbott and Seamus Finnigan to move farther down the ugly beige couch and make room for her, leaving her chair to Astoria. Predictably, Hannah chose that as an excuse to move onto Finnigan's lap and they started snogging, oblivious to the other occupants of the room.

"What did you want to know about us?" asked Patil.

"General getting-to-know-you things. How you're doing, what you're all about, how you're finding eighth-year. Whether there's anything you need from me."

"Thank you for thinking of us, Greengrass," said Granger. "Actually, I have a lot of questions for you too."

"Call me Astoria, please," said Astoria, and leaned forward in her chair, looking interested. Genuinely interested in Granger, or at least making a damn fine semblance of it. He supposed it was what all of them should do, Slytherins especially; Mudblood though she was, Granger was a power to be reckoned with now. No self-respecting Slytherin without a permanently tainted reputation towards Muggle-borns would do any differently.

ooo000ooo
November 2, 2017: It's a reunion

"Draco, you're being an arse. It's a reunion. It'll be a chance to see your housemates again. Some of whom you haven't seen in years."

"If I don't see them any more, maybe it's because I don't want to see them."

"It would be nice to see Hermione."

"Weasley will be there."

"This is true. But so will Neville." She was using her patient voice, the one she used with Scorpius when he was being childish, and Draco didn't much appreciate it. "Besides, it'll be a chance to hear what the others think about the project."

"I'm not going to be involved in the project," he pointed out.

"You're impossible," said Astoria.

"I. Am. Not. Going," Draco repeated. "If you're so bloody interested, why don't you go?"

"I am, Draco. I can go as your wife and as Queenie's sister. And I will be involved in the project. Which, by the way, is not the main point of the get-together." She stepped back and glared at him. "You are fucking impossible," she said. "And much as I love you, on days like today you make me wonder what the fuck I was thinking when I got together with you." With a crack, she was gone.

ooo000ooo
November 2, 1998: What can we do?

"Seven Slytherin students have withdrawn since Halloween," Astoria said quietly, and the Diggory common room stilled.

Granger gave her a sympathetic look. "That's not your fault, Astoria," she said gently.

"Isn't it? Halloween was a disaster. People taking all sorts of opportunities to play 'harmless' tricks, chaos all over the place--"

"It's not just inter-House problems," said Longbottom. "There've been withdrawals from the other Houses--"

"Yes. One Ravenclaw, two Gryffindors, two Hufflepuffs."

Granger and Longbottom blinked.

"Head Girl," Astoria said grimly. "I know these things." She rested her head against the back of a new sofa that had appeared a few days ago, a spot of oddly attractive violet in the otherwise dreary tan and beige of the room. "And I'm supposed to be helping. I know I'm supposed to help everybody, but the other three Houses have support from inside and outside the school. Nobody cares what's happening to the Slytherin kids. And they're leaving. In droves."

"You really do care about them," Granger said slowly.

Astoria rolled her eyes impatiently. "No, Hermione, I only fake it to get pity. Of course I care. I have to; nobody else does."

"How can we help?" asked Granger.

Astoria blinked. "Who?"

"Me. Neville. Malf-Draco. All of us in Diggory House. How can we help?"

Astoria tilted her head to the side and gave Granger a long look, and Draco could see the wheels turning in her head, could see her getting over her initial surprise that anybody would offer to help, and working on how to use that offer.