Harry Potter and the Boy of Two Houses

Chapter 1

The Unexpected Death

"Harry! Oy, Harry, over here!" Harry grinned upon hearing the shouts of the Weasley twins, Fred and George, and quickly wheeled his trolley around. It wasn't hard to spot the Weasley family, what with their numerous red-haired heads and their smiling faces all directed at Harry.

"Hullo, Harry, figured we'd come see our younger siblings off," exclaimed Fred in the way of greeting. Harry nodded, still grinning. He shook hands with George and then gave Ginny a brief hug, uncomfortably aware that she'd had a growth spurt over the summer and was nearly as tall as him.

"Hello, Harry, dear," said Mrs Weasley, a plump, cheerful witch. She gave him a big hug and smoothed down his unruly black hair so that his famed scar was barely visible. "Ron will be here in a minute- his trunk opened and he and Arthur are putting everything back in." Managing to look worried at the same time, she smiled and gave him another hug.

"Oh, Harry, I wish you could've come to the Burrow over the summer, but, well, Professor Dumbledore thought it would be best for you to stay at your aunt and uncle's house." She glanced uncertainly back at the barrier separating Platform Nine and Three-Quarters from the Muggle world.

"Aah, good, here he is . . ." A bit red in the face, Ron emerged onto the platform, his trunk dragging along behind him. Pig, his small, over-enthusiastic owl, cheeped loudly in annoyance, startling the other people on the platform.

"Oh, Ron," groaned Mrs Weasley, swooping down on his half-open luggage. She clucked impatiently, fingering the three inches of black robe hanging out of the trunk.

"I ironed these this morning, oh really," she said impatiently, tugging on the catch. Harry and Ron exchanged grins as Mrs. Weasley, still bemoaning Ron's packing, began refolding everything.

"How was your summer?" asked Harry, happy to see his best friend. It had been nearly a week since they'd seen each other on supply errands in Diagon Alley, and since then Harry had been even more aware of the fact that he had no friends at Privet Drive.

"Great! Fred and George let me work in their shop for five sickles an hour! Loads of folks from Hogwarts were buying things. I saw Seamus, Dean, well, actually they were there together, Susan Bones, Hannah Abbott, Ernie stopped in to say hi," he added. "Not that he'd actually buy anything as useful as a dung bomb." They both grinned, thinking of Ernie Macmillan, a strict but friendly Hufflepuff prefect.

"Ah, that's where you're wrong, little brother," said George. He and Fred both put arms around Ron and Harry as if speaking confidentially.

"We don't sell ordinary things like dung bombs," said Fred, winking at Harry. "We sell merchandise even Filch hasn't heard of . . ."

"Yet," added George, sniggering. He and Fred released Harry and Ron and went back over to their parents, still grinning broadly.

"They're lucky Filch's only a Squib," muttered Ron, staring after them. "Otherwise he'd've cursed them a hundred times already." Harry nodded in agreement and they fetched their trunks to board the scarlet Hogwarts Express. According to the large clock in the station they had exactly five minutes before the train left at eleven.

"So, Ron, did you, er see Cho at all?" asked Harry under his breath, avoiding his friend's eyes.

"Well," said Ron, going red. "Yeah, er, I saw her for a minute. She was with that friend of hers, Maria or something . . ."

"Marietta." Harry felt his face go hot as he recalled Cho Chang's friend Marietta Edgecombe who'd single-handedly brought down the DA Harry had led the previous year.

"Does she still have spots?" he asked savagely, yanking open a compartment door harder than he'd meant and startling several of the second years inside it. "Sorry," he muttered, closing the door gently. He hadn't quite forgotten Cho yet, or the way he had felt each time she kissed him. He hadn't thought about her much, true, not when Sirius' death was constant in his mind. Harry felt a slight chill overtake him as he thought about Sirius, and a feeling of complete terror, anger, and sadness overtook his stomach. No, he thought, clenching his teeth. I won't think about Sirius. Not now, not when I'm going back to Hogwarts. He'd thought about it enough over the summer, recounted it time and time again, until it hurt to even think of his name. It would always hurt, Harry mused, but it was time to put it behind him, at least for the moment.

"Harry?" said Ron uncertainly. He was standing just inside an empty compartment, his hands paused to store his trunk. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," snapped Harry, shaking himself back to the present. He gave a very forced grin, inwardly ashamed at how worried he was making Ron feel.

"So, er, what did you say about Marietta?"

Ron gave a nervous smile as he hoisted his trunk. "Well, she wasn't wearing a scarf, and the spots have obviously begun to go away. She's still got loads of red blots on her cheeks." He grinned proudly at Hermione's charmwork and Harry beamed back, regaining some of his former cheerfulness.

"Speaking of Hermione, wonder where she is," said Ron, leaning his head out the window. Murmuring something under his breath, he pulled his head back in and turned to Harry.

"C'mon, I gotta say good-bye to Mum. She wants to see you, too." Harry nodded and they left the compartment. Mrs Weasley embraced them again outside, repeatedly telling them to behave themselves and to make sure they stayed out of trouble.

"Hon'esty, Mum," groaned Ron, his face smushed against his mother's shoulder, "it's not like we try to get in trouble on purpose . . ."

"Yes, it just seems to find you," said Mrs Weasley lovingly, smiling worriedly. She gave him a kiss on the head which he groaned at as well and then turned to Harry.

"Now be careful this year, Harry, darling. You know that, well, You-Know-Who is back again." She stopped, unable to say more. Harry nodded, inwardly willing himself not to think of Sirius again.

"Molly," said Mr Weasley gently, prying her off of Harry. "They have to go . . ."

"Of course," said Mrs Weasley, wiping away tears. She gave him a kiss on his forehead and then let him go. Harry shook Mr Weasley's hand, aware that Ron was waiting.

"Have a good year, boys," called Mrs Weasley, waving a white handkerchief at them as they turned to the train. Ron and Harry waved to the Weasleys; Fred and George were shouting advice as the train whistle blew.

"Let off some dung bombs for us, will you? Oh, and tell Seamus that we'll be coming out with a new line of fireworks soon." Harry and Ron laughed as Mrs Weasley smacked them both on the arm, whispering to them furiously.

"Harry! Ron! Wait!" They both whirled around, identical smiles instantly lighting up their faces. Hermione rushed towards them, her bushy brown hair flying behind her. Gasping and clutching a stitch in her side, she hauled her trunk onto the steps boarding the train just as the whistle blew a second time and the wheels began to turn.

"Where have you been?" Ron demanded, helping her lift her trunk off the steps as the Hogwarts Express began to move. "You almost missed the train."

"Well, you don't need to tell me that," said Hermione irritably. She smiled apologetically and gave them both hugs. "Sorry, Mum and Dad had some trouble finding a parking spot and we had to drive around for ages." She stopped as Ron opened his mouth.

"Yes, I know you're going to ask what's the use of a car if you can't park anywhere, but never mind, they're dead useful mostly," she said severely, allowing no room for argument. Ron closed his mouth, looking surprised.

"Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to go to our compartment seeing as how we're blocking the hall." Hermione blushed slightly and nodded, peering at two first years behind them staring nervously at them.

"Of course," she said hastily and the three of them went back to their compartment. Ginny and Neville were both in it, playing a game of Exploding Snap.

"Dang!" shouted Neville, his plump face red. "That's the third time you've won!" Ginny grinned, putting the cards away. She and Hermione exchanged greetings and soon they were all sitting and laughing, talking about their summers and wondering who their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would be.

"Hope it's not a woman," muttered Ron under his breath. "I don't think I could take another witch-"

"Oh, Ron," interrupted Hermione indignantly. "Not all women are as bad as Umbridge was! I mean, she's like the Wicked Witch of the West!" When no one acknowledged her metaphor she sighed impatiently. " 'The Wizard of Oz'?"

"It's a movie," whispered Harry to Ron under his breath.

"Oh, oh yeah, that thing," said Ron sheepishly, turning scarlet. "Moving pictures! Dad told me all about them over the summer." Hermione just looked at him.

"So," said Neville, clearing his throat. "Bertie Bott's anyone?" He passed the beans around, nervously fingering them until he selected a red one.

"Careful, that could be anything," warned Ginny after spitting out broccoli, artichoke, and burned potatoes. "Peppermint, cinnamon . . ."

"Jalapenos," choked Neville, spitting out the bean and rubbing his tearing eyes. They laughed, and Hermione offered Neville a tissue.

After a while Luna Lovegood, a Ravenclaw fifth year, stopped by to say hello to them.

"Would you like a copy of this month's Quibbler?" she asked Harry, her eyes their normal misty color. "Father's run so many articles on Death Eater sightings because of your interview last year that business has doubled . . ." After he politely declined, Luna gave him one anyway and then went on her way.

"Oh, can I do the ancient runes?" asked Ginny hopefully. "They're actually quite fun."

"Know yourself out," grinned Harry, handing over the tabloid. Luna was not their only visitor; in the hours it took to get to Hogwarts at least a dozen students had stopped by to say hi, a lot of them old DA members. Harry waited in anticipation, wondering if Cho would stop by. Part of him hoped that she would and maybe they'd be able to start things over. Then again, it would be awfully embarrassing if Cho stopped by and acted indifferent towards him. She didn't come in and say hi, although Harry was almost positive that he'd seen her walk past with Marietta and look through the glass.

Eventually Ron and Hermione had to excuse themselves to go to the Prefects' compartment and were absent for almost an hour. Harry, Neville, and Ginny entertained each other by guessing what the new Gryffindor password would be. Neville was on the floor howling and Harry was close to falling off his seat laughing over Ginny's "Twitchy Slytherin Ferret," when Ron and Hermione came back.

When the trolley lady stopped by Harry bought Cauldron Cakes, Chocolate Frogs, and a new one, Flitter Chicks, a wizard version of marshmallow peeps that fluttered in the air for a few seconds once unwrapped, chirping, their sugary outsides feather-like and soft. Harry and Ron had great fun seeing whose Flitter Chick would stay in the air the longest. Hedwig was very confused by the Chicks, though, and tried to snatch them out of the air with her beak, hooting in annoyance when she missed and making Ron fall over laughing.

In no time, though, it was time to don their black Hogwarts robes and as the train began to slow they reluctantly stored their candy and games in their trunks and bags.

"Harry!" called Hermione, Neville already beside her at the exit. "C'mon, let's find Hagrid!" Harry followed her, Ron and Ginny behind him. However, when they had made it past the throngs of people milling about the train, they could not see him anywhere.

"First years, over here, please, older students, you know the routine." Harry, Ron, and Hermione all groaned. It was easy to recognize the voice of Professor Grubbly-Plank the brisk witch who always took over Hagrid's duties when he couldn't do them. She had greeted them last year at the train as well.

"This is like deja-vu all over again," whispered Hermione.

"What's deja-v-" asked Ron, but Hermione shushed him and pulled him and Harry over to the carriages that would bring them to the castle. Harry stared at the black thestrals pulling the carriages. Their blank white eyes stared ahead. He shivered. With no pupils, it was impossible to see where they were looking. He glanced nervously at Neville who was staring at the thestrals, too. Of the five of them, they were still the only two to have witnessed death firsthand. They had both seen Sirius die. No, whispered a little voice inside of Harry forcefully. You're not going to think about him. Not on your first night back. Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances, staring at the places in front of the carriages where they knew the thestrals were. Oh well, thought Harry, some of his previous gloom returning. At least he didn't think he was going crazy like he'd been afraid of last year. He followed Ron and Hermione into a carriage and Ginny and Neville squeezed in after them.

"So what'd you think happened to Hagrid?" asked Ron in low tones, glancing at Neville and Ginny.

"I don't know," said Hermione worriedly. "He didn't ever come back last year after he left, did he?"

"I don't think so. We would've heard," said Harry doubtfully, staring out the window.

"You don't think- Grawp wouldn't have done anything, would he?" asked Ron uneasily. They looked at each other nervously and then simultaneously turned away. They were silent during the rest of the ride to the castle. A light sprinkle of rain pattered on top of the carriage. Harry could see Hermione biting her lip and glancing at him every so often as if she wanted to say something but was afraid to. Harry was just as glad that she didn't say anything. This would be his last quiet period in the next several hours to come. Soon they would be in the noisy Great Hall, full of chattering students and warm, delicious food. As in on queue, his stomach grumbled, rather loudly. Ron chuckled, and then silence reigned once more. The rain had increased to a heavy shower, and by the time they had reached the great gates of Hogwarts, the grass outside was soaked. They were all happy to leave the stuffy confines of the carriage and pulling their cloaks above their head to keep out the rain, they hurried inside.

Just as it was every year, the Entrance Hall was bright and cheery, filled with students hugging, laughing, talking, telling summer stories and nervous first years whispering about their houses. Harry filed into the Great Hall with the rest of the older students. He could just hear Professor McGonagall's voice as she descended the steps into the Entrance Hall to talk to the first years. Inside the Great Hall, however, the teachers seemed subdued. Professor Dumbledore was talking gravely with Professor Flitwick who was bobbing his head enthusiastically. Snape, his black, greasy hair hanging in curtains over his eyes, was staring moodily at the students. Harry paused; none of the teachers were smiling. He swiftly looked at Hagrid's normal seat. It was empty. His eyes roved the rest of the table until they found an older man sitting on the other side of Flitwick. He had a short white beard and small round glasses perched on the end of his nose. He was chatting amiably with Professor Sinistra. Harry peered at him, confused.

"Reckon he's the new Defense teacher?" asked Ron.

"Must be," said Harry. Hermione stared at him and then looked at Dumbledore.

"I bet they're related," she breathed softly. "Look- he's got the same chin. And their noses are similar." Both Harry and Ron stared at her before turning to look at the new teacher again. On closer examination, Harry saw that there was indeed a resemblance, and he wondered if Hermione was right. One more glance at the table revealed that there was an empty seat next to Snape. Who were they missing? he wondered.

"Move it, Potter," snarled a mean voice in his ear. Harry jumped, stumbling into two third year girls as several Slytherin boys pushed past them. He glared at them as they took seats at their own table. Not wasting time to look for Malfoy or any of his other fiendish friends, Harry quickly took a seat at Gryffindor table between Ron and Hermione.

"Check out Slytherin," remarked Ron, smirking. Harry glanced across the room. A cluster of about ten Slytherin were gathered in a tight knot, whispering together excitedly.

"Oh, look, Pansy's upset about something," said Hermione snidely, removing her clock and draping it over her chair. Pansy Parkinson, a rude Slytherin girl in their year, was sniffling about something, her eyes red.

"Did sweet, wonderful Draco finally dump her?" asked Ron sarcastically, his attention back to the empty golden plates in front of them. "Reckon the feast'll start soon?" he said hopefully. Harry shrugged and was soon caught up in a conversation with Seamus about Quidditch.

"Harry!" hissed Ron urgently in his ear.

"What?"

"Snape- he's leaving." Harry wheeled around. Sure enough, Snape, after casting a shifty look about the hall, had gotten up from his seat and was striding to a door behind the teachers' table.

"Isn't the Sorting starting soon?" demanded Hermione, her hand on Harry's shoulder. She half-rose out of her seat, leaning on him. Snape disappeared out the door.

"Let's go see where he's going!" exclaimed Ron eagerly, jumping from his seat.

"Ron! Professor McGonagall will be here any minute!" Hermione whispered fervently, casting nervous glances at the rest of the Gryffindor.

"Your mom did say that she wanted us to stay out of trouble," said Harry slowly, but he was still looking at the door. The urge to follow Snape and see what he was doing was overwhelming. Quickly, before he could change his mind, he got up, yanking the sleeves of Ron's robes.

"Where are you going?" called Seamus. "The Sorting Hat'll be here any minute."

"Just- to the bathroom," replied Harry. He and Ron rushed out of the hall, ignoring Hermione's protests. They stopped short in the Entrance Hall, panting for breath. Both McGonagall and the first years were gone.

"There!" hissed Ron, pointing to the shadows near the back of the Entrance Hall behind the staircases. Harry put a finger to his mouth and tiptoed to the staircase. He could just make out Snape's hooked nose in the darkness. He could hear him talking in low whispers to someone. Blond hair was just visible in the fading light.

"What's he saying?" Ron demanded, edging closer. Harry pulled him back, not willing to risk getting detention before classes even started.

"I don't know," he said tersely. "Be quiet."

"I know, please come into the Great Hall, Narcissa and have some dinner-"

"Harry, you're standing on my robe-"

"Ow!" Harry yelped as Ron tugged his robe from beneath his sneaker. His arms waving wildly, Harry fell against the staircase, banging his shoulder blade.

"Who's there?" called out Snape. Harry and Ron dashed out of the shadows, fleeing back to the Great Hall.

"Harry!" moaned Ron. "We were getting to the good part."

"You yanked your robe-"

"Who's Narcissa?" interrupted Ron. "We've heard her name before, haven't we?" Harry didn't answer, deep in thought trying to remember where he'd seen that woman before.

"There you two are!" Hermione snapped. She was standing just outside the door to the Great Hall, glancing anxiously over her shoulder. "C'mon, the Sorting Hat's already sung its song. Let's go!" Harry and Ron were only too happy to oblige. Just as they slid back into their seats, breathless, Snape re-entered the Hall from the door behind the teachers' table.

"That was close," said Ron. A few first years looked around curiously behind them at the disturbance. A skinny, stick-legged girl was perched on the stool in front of the four house table, the black, ragged Sorting Hat on her head.

"HUFFLEPUFF" cried the hat, and the girl, who giggled nervously, ran to the Hufflepuff table.

"Benson, Helen," called Professor McGonagall and a dark haired girl moved from the line.

"RAVENCLAW!" It went on for ages, Harry thought, who was too jumpy to pay much attention to the sorting. He clapped for all the new Gryffindors, yelling random whoops. Who had Snape been talking to in the hallway?

"SLYTHERIN!"

"Johnson, Conrad." A pale, thin faced boy with brown locks swaggered to the stool and sat down, glaring at everyone.

"Slytherin!" said Ron jokingly, imitating the Sorting Hat. Several Gryffindors laughed, pounding their cups on the table.

"GRYFFINDOR!" Harry's head snapped around, as did almost every other Gryffindor's at the table. The pale boy looked stunned. He glanced around wildly at the teachers and was about to argue when they heard McGonagall say quite firmly,

"Go to the table over there, dear," she said, giving him a small smile. She pointed to Gryffindor table and then called out, "Losel, Eric." Conrad Johnson stared at her for a few seconds and then walked dispiritedly over to Gryffindor.

"Could've sworn he'd be in Slytherin," muttered Ron out of the corner of his mouth.

"Know what you mean," said Harry.

"You should not judge a book by its cover," came the stern voice of Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost. Floating halfway through the table, he frowned at Harry and Ron. "In the end he may be a worthy asset to our house."

"Aw, poor guy," said Hermione sympathetically. "Ron, let's go talk to him."

"Why?" demanded Ron, thunderstruck.

"We're the prefects," hissed Hermione, jerking her head towards him.

"Do we have to?" whined Ron, staring at him empty plate remorsefully.

"Yes," insisted Hermione.

"Oh, fine," grumbled Ron. "Let's go, Harry."

"I'm not a prefect," he protested, grinning.

"Tough for you," growled Ron, pulling him over. Conrad had taken a seat at the far end of the table, closest to the Teachers' Table. A wide space on the bench separated him from the other Gryffindors.

"Hi, I'm Hermione Granger, a Gryffindor prefect," said Hermione warmly, sitting down next to him. "This is Ron Weasley, the other prefect." Seeing Harry, she added, "and my friend Harry Potter." Conrad looked at them in distaste. He nodded curtly and then turned back to the Sorting Hat.

"Um," said Hermione, taken aback by his coldness. "We wanted to make sure you're all right. You can always come to us if you need help or anything . . ." Conrad slowly turned his head back and stared at her as if he wasn't quite sure why she was talking at him.

"I won't be in Gryffindor long, so stay out of my business," he said at last, his blue eyes cold. Hermione gave a small gasp which she quickly covered up with a cough.

"Wh- I, ok," she finished feebly, standing up. Ron and Harry gave Conrad disgusted looks and headed back to their seats.

"What's with him?" demanded Ron, glaring at Conrad who had already looked away. "I thought Gryffindors were supposed to be kind. That guy belongs in Slytherin."

"You're telling me."

"Do you think the Sorting Hat made a mistake?" ventured Ron uncertainly.

"RAVENCLAW!"

"Oh, he's probably just nervous," said Hermione breezily, but she looked doubtful.

"Hermione!" cried Ron, outraged. "That guy does not belong in Gryffindor! He was- was. . . a miniature Draco Malfoy." Triumphant at his analysis of Conrad, Ron settled back in his chair just as the Sorting Hat shouted "SLYTHERIN!" Cheering rose from the green and silver table at the end of the room as a broad, sneering boy ambled to their corner. Glancing over at Conrad, Harry saw him stare enviously at Slytherin table.

Professor McGonagall rolled up her scroll of names with a snap and marched to her seat beside Dumbledore. With a unanimous sigh, all heads turned towards the teachers' table, waiting for Dumbledore to give his customary speech. When he stood, there was scattered applause. Instantly whispers broke out over the hall about the events of last year, when Dumbledore had been in hiding and Umbridge had taken over as headmistress. Doubtless many quiet conversations were taking place concerning what Dumbledore had been doing and whether or not he would stay this year. Out of the corner of his eye Harry saw Professor Grubbly-Plank sit in Hagrid's empty seat.

"Students, teachers, friends," began Dumbledore, his face uncharacteristically solemn. His hands were clasped in front of him, his robes black. It was then that Harry noticed that all the teachers were wearing dark colors; in fact, the only one who did not have a change in appearance was Snape who always wore black. If possible, Snape's expression were even angrier than normal. For a moment he glared at Harry, his eyes black and unblinking. Harry shivered and turned away. He would never like Snape, he thought with revulsion, but he hated him even more this year. If he hadn't been so horrible last year than maybe Sirius wouldn't be-

"I have some announcements, both good and bad. One, I would like to introduce you all to my cousin and very good friend, Professor Evans. He will be taking the place of Professor Umbridge this year in the Defense Against the Dark Arts post." He indicated the white bearded man next to Flitwick. Professor Evans stood quickly, beamed, and gave a short bow. Harry, Ron, and Hermione clapped enthusiastically.

"He's bound to be good if he's Dumbledore's cousin!" shouted Ron over the applause.

"See? I told you they were related!" exclaimed Hermione jubilantly.

"Now, as all older students should know, the forest is off limits to students . . ." He proceeded to list several other items that Harry and his friends had long ago memorized.

"And finally, I have a piece of sad, regrettable news. Some of you know of it already and some of you don't. I am sorry to say that in an unfortunate incident over the summer, one of our students had a fatal accident." The room was silent. Dead silent, thought Harry, and he shuddered. Ron stared at Dumbledore openmouthed, unable to say anything.

"Who?" whispered Hermione, craning her neck to see who was missing. From several yards away a girl gave a great sob.

"I am sorry to say that Draco Malfoy, a seventh year Slytherin, was killed in July." Dumbledore stared at them all before speaking, as if waiting for the words to soak in.

It was Harry's turn to gape.

"Malfoy?" he said, stunned. Murmurs broke out all along the hall. From the Slytherin table, Pansy Parkinson gave a great gasp and burst into new tears.

"How did Malfoy die?" asked Hermione in a low voice. "Is he going to tell us?"

"Guess not," said Ron, still gaping at Dumbledore. Harry watched Slytherin. Some of them were crying, choking out words to friends while others looked horrified, as if they hadn't known.

"Harry! Isn't that Malfoy's mother? We saw her at the Quidditch World Cup two years ago, didn't we?" Hermione tugged on his shoulder and pointed to the teachers. Harry stared at the pale, blond woman sitting next to Snape. He hadn't noticed her come in before.

"She wasn't here before the Sorting." Ron's face lit up. "Harry, I bet that's who we saw talking to Snape! Narcissa Malfoy, it all makes sense! But why is she here?"

"Well, her son's dead, and this is where he spent most of his last few years," pointed out Hermione. Harry nodded. He couldn't believe it. Malfoy had been his enemy for the last six years. Now he was dead? It was impossible to believe. He didn't miss Malfoy. After all they had never been friends. Still, it would be strange to go through the next two years without having to watch out for Malfoy causing trouble.

As if this had just struck him, too, Ron exclaimed, "Slytherin's Quidditch team is going to be dead this year! He was nothing compared to you, Harry, but he was the best Seeker they could've gotten!" He looked gleefully at Slytherin table, but his smile faltered at the sobbing they could still hear.

"Ron!" hissed Hermione angrily. "How dare you! He's dead for crying out loud!"

"I know, Hermione," said Ron, looking slightly ashamed. "But- well, we've hated him for so long, and now we never have to face him again . . ." His voice trailed off, but Harry knew how he felt.

"Wonder how it happened?" said Seamus in soft tones, glancing behind him.

"I don't-" started Harry but Dumbledore started to speak again.

"This is terrible news for many of you. Mr Malfoy had a lot of friends here-"

"Fat chance," whispered Ron and received a glare from Hermione.

"A lot of you will miss him, and I regret to have had to tell you about this unfortunate news. This is Narcissa Malfoy, his mother. If you would like to say a few words, Narcissa . . ." Malfoy's mother stood up, hiccuped, and choked out a few meaningless sounds.

"He-I, Dr-" With a loud sob she ran out of the hall, causing countless heads to turn and stare after her.

"Don't even start, Hermione," said Ron as she opened her mouth. "It's Malfoy's mother."

"Ron!" she snapped angrily. "She's never actually done anything to us, has she?"

"She gave birth to him," snarled Ron.

"She's Bellatrix Lestrange's sister," said Harry quietly. Ron and Hermione stared at him, speechless.

"I- oh, Harry, I'm sorry," said Hermione, and he was startled to see there were tears forming in her eyes. "I shouldn't have-"

"It's fine," he said roughly. "You're right, Hermione. Narcissa Malfoy hasn't done anything to us." Ron looked as if he wanted to protest, but he kept his mouth shut.

"If we could all raise our cups to Mr Draco Malfoy," said Dumbledore. Harry and Ron looked at each other and then at their cups, as did many other people around the tables. It was true that no one except for Slytherins had really liked Draco Malfoy, but it still seemed rude to deny Dumbledore's request.

"Don't stoop to his level," said Hermione quietly, lifting her own goblet an inch off the table.

Harry nodded, remembering how Malfoy and the other Slytherins had stoutly refused to toast Cedric Diggory after his death.

"You're right," he said grudgingly and lifted his cup. Unbidden, a memory of the last time he'd seen Malfoy sprung to mind; it had been on the Hogwarts Express after Malfoy had tried to cause trouble for Harry. Several DA members had fired a few well chosen spells and Malfoy and his two thugs, Crabbe and Goyle, had looked like teenage slugs in Hogwarts robes. Harry couldn't resist a small smile and raised his cup a bit higher in the air after an encouraging nod from Hermione. Slowly other Gryffindors followed suit.

"all right," sighed Ron. His cup was in the air for less than two seconds before he had taken a sip of cranberry juice.

"To Draco Malfoy," said Dumbledore, holding his goblet up.

"To Draco Malfoy," chorused the students back. Ron sat defiantly back in his chair as everyone else took sips from their goblets.

"Ron, that was rude." Hermione glared at him.

"I wasn't the only one," protested Ron, pointing vaguely at the end of the table. "That first year didn't toast him either." Harry and Hermione craned their necks. Sure enough, Conrad was sitting angrily in his chair, about a foot from the table. His arms were crossed against his chest, nowhere near his goblet. Hermione frowned but didn't say anything.

"And now, let's eat." Dumbledore gave his first smile of the night and waved his wand. Instantly food of all kinds filled the table. Harry and Ron eagerly began filling their plates.

"What do you think?" asked Ginny. She looked up at them expectantly, her red hair tucked behind her ears. She took a bite of chicken, waiting for them to answer.

"I think it'll be nice not to be called a 'mudblood' anymore," said Hermione, spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate.

"And Quidditch will be easier," said Ron, his eyes once again alight.

"Not to mention he won't provoke us in Potions anymore," said Harry, noticing his hunger. Eagerly he popped a lemon drop into him mouth, ignoring the platters of vegetables and meat in front of him. Talk of Malfoy continued throughout dinner, and by the time Hermione and Ron had led the Gryffindors up to Gryffindor tower Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil were still carrying on conversation about him.

"D'you think he did magic and had an accident?"

"Might've. He did break rules a lot, didn't he?"

"Does Snape hate us?" said Ron, rolling his eyes.

"Fizzy butterbeer," said Hermione importantly and the portrait of the Fat Lady swung open. Harry and Ron climbed inside, drowsy from the feast and the talk.

"Well, good riddance is all I can say," said Ron, swaying slightly on his feet. They bade goodnight to Hermione and followed Neville up to the boys' dormitory. Their trunks lay beside their scarlet-curtained four poster beds.

"Night, Ron," yawned Harry. He lay down in bed, snuggling under the covers. So far the year had been very confusing. Maybe in the morning Hagrid would be back and they'd find out what had rid them of Malfoy. Maybe . . .