Harry Potter and the Sixth Year

It was with a lighter heart than in the past that Harry wheeled his trolley along the platform at King’s Cross. No pains or aches from the scar. And now he was a prefect. He smiled inwardly. Amazing how little things could make life so much better. What was being a prefect compared with the troubles he’d had in past years? Yet oddly, it meant more to him at this moment than any triumph over Voldemort. Now he’d be back in the same compartment on the train as Ron and Hermione. And, of course now Malfoy was no longer a prefect … he allowed himself a little evil grin.

Checking to see that that no Muggles were around, he walked through the barrier between Platforms Nine and Ten, and, as before, found himself next to the large scarlet steam train. Other students were milling around, and as he wheeled his things down the platform he found himself exchanging nods and greetings. At least this year he wasn’t being pointed at and whispered about – at least, not in the same way. Not yet. He shivered momentarily. Who knows what the new school year had in store?

Then he bumped into Neville.

“Harry!”

Neville had changed over the summer – he was distinctly taller now, and although he wasn’t any less plump, he seemed that bit better proportioned.

“Hi, Neville. Good summer?”

“Yeah, great. My Gran took me to see all these botanical gardens in Russia.”

“Russia? Why Russia?”

Neville blinked. “We … well, we were seeing a Healer over there. He’s got some new techniques … Mum and Dad …” His voice trailed off.

“Yeah,” said Harry quietly. “Any luck with them?”

“Dunno yet. But Gran’s going to let me know how things go on.”

“I hope they go well.”

“Yeah, thanks. Shall we get a carriage?” Then Neville saw the prefect’s badge pinned to Harry’s jumper. “Oh …” His voice tailed away.

Harry remembered his own hurt from a year before. “I’ll put my things in the same compartment as you, but I’ll have to leave you for a while.”

“You don’t have to, you know.”

“I know. But why not?”

“Thanks.”

Harry knew Neville would never have been made a prefect even if there were only a half dozen pupils left in the school. But Harry also knew that there was more to Neville than met the eye – a Neville that could take on a half dozen Death Eaters with no thought of his own safety.

“D.A.’s have to stick together.”

“Right.”

Harry knew that Neville knew that this was only a face saver, but he wasn’t going to abandon his friend. Then: “Harry!”

It was Ron and Ginny. “We’re in here,” he said firmly to the two of them.

Ron looked at him for a moment, then at Neville, and got the picture – surprisingly quickly for Ron.

“Yeah, OK,” and hauled his trunk in after the others.

“Ron! Harry!” Harry turned and saw Hermione with all her things.

“In here,” he called.

“OK.”

They helped Hermione load her bags and trunk into the compartment.

“Weighs a ton,” grumbled Ron, with one particularly heavy bag. “What’s in it?”

“Books,” said Hermione briefly.

“Oh.”

They sorted themselves out as the train pulled away, then Ron, Hermione and Harry looked at the other two apologetically.

“We’ve got to go and do our walk round,” said Harry.

Ginny said nothing, just looked at them, and Neville nodded. Feeling slightly guilty, Harry slid the compartment door back, and slowly they began to walk down the corridor.

As they came into the next compartment, a door opened. It was Malfoy.

Harry had never seen the blond Slytherin’s face so distorted with rage and frustration. Malfoy had been more than a prefect under the Umbridge regime; now, he was nothing again.

“The Gryffindor prefects,” he sneered. “They must be hard up this year.”

“The Slytherin ex-prefect,” said Hermione quietly. “They must have been hard up last year.”

Harry could see the muscles in Malfoy’s face tighten.

“For the moment.”

“Some comeback,” said Ron. “I don’t think even Snape would want you as a prefect anymore.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Yes,” Hermione said coolly, “we will, won’t we?”

The door slammed shut.

“Temper, temper,” said Hermione to the closed door.

“Shall I remind him of his manners?” asked Ron, reaching for the door.

“No, Ron,” said Hermione. “Leave him be. There’s no point in stirring up more trouble.”

Ron looked as if he were going to argue the point, but left it. They walked up to the prefects’ compartment, chatted with the other prefects for a time. This year’s Head Boy was Paul Taylor from Ravenclaw – but the surprise was the new Head Girl – Katie Bell.

“Congratulations!” Hermione ran over and hugged her. Harry and Ron hung back a little. Ron rather nervously held out his hand: “Well done!”

“You’re getting just like Percy,” Katie teased, not realising quite what she was saying. There was a moment’s awkward silence, while Katie looked at them with a slightly puzzled expression, before Harry stepped forward with his own congratulations.

Catching up with people made the time fly by – it wasn’t until Harry glanced out of the window and saw the fading sunset glow of late summer that he realised how long they’d been talking.

“Better get back to Neville and Ginny,” he said to the other two.

He could see Ron didn’t really want to – he was enjoying himself too much – but as Harry and Hermione disengaged themselves, Ron followed. They wandered back down the train – not seeing Malfoy this time – and arrived at their compartment. Harry glanced in and saw Neville in animated conversation with Luna Lovegood. Ginny seemed to be watching the two of them, a slight smile on her face. Three heads turned as Harry slid the door back.

“Enjoy Iceland?” Harry asked, as the three of them crowded in.

“Oh yes,” said Luna. “I’ve just being telling Neville about the White Flame Cactus that grows on the slopes of volcanoes. They need twenty four hours of sunlight, you see.”

“And what do they do in the winter?” asked Hermione tartly.

Luna said nothing as Neville leaned forward earnestly: “There aren’t such things as White Flame Cacti.”

Luna stayed silent until Ron asked: “Why do you say these things?”

She sighed, then: “Because I like to. And because Daddy thinks they exist.”

There was another slightly embarrassed silence. Harry thought he was beginning to get the hang of these now.

Ron’s ears had gone red, and quickly he started talking about a Quidditch match he’d been to in the holidays, until Luna interrupted him.

“You don’t have to, you know.”

“Don’t have to what?” asked Ron.

“Change the subject.”

“Oh.” His ears went redder still and there was an even longer embarrassed silence. They sat staring out of the window – except for Ginny, who was having a silent fit of the giggles. Hermione glared at her.

Then Luna turned to Harry. “What was it like – seeing Voldemort again?”

There was an audible intake of breath from the others. None of them had dared ask him about it.

Harry shrugged.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

Funny – in one way he did, in one way he didn’t. Then, slowly: “The most impressive thing was Dumbledore.”

“Really? Why was that?”

“He called Voldemort – Tom.” The others stared at him. “You know,” he went on, “Dumbledore would have taught him at Hogwarts. When he was just Tom Riddle. Imagine – Voldemort would have been on this train once, just like us.”

Ron shifted uncomfortably on his seat and looked round at the compartment as if he were expecting Tom Riddle to materialise from out of the seats. Then: “Just like Malfoy, you mean. Not us.”

“No,” said Luna, “just like us. As for Malfoy – he’s just a wannabee.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, his dad’s in prison, so that’s one less thing for him to boast about. And if he weren’t so much Snape’s pet, he would be nothing at Hogwarts. If he met Voldemort for real, he’d probably scream for Mummy. No, he’s a wannabee Death Eater.”

Ron stared at her, mouth slightly open, but Harry noticed Hermione was looking at Luna with new respect.

“She’s right, you know,” said Hermione quietly. “He gets most of his influence from his father and from those two thugs Crabbe and Goyle.”

“They’re in the Remedial class,” said Ginny.

“Really?” said Ron, brightening up.

The Remedial class was for those Sixth Years who had failed O.W.L.s first time round.

Ginny nodded. “Yeah. I heard it from Dad.”

“Wow. That’s means they won’t be in any of our classes then.”

“It’ll be just Malfoy by himself,” said Luna. “We’ll see how brave he is then.”

Harry could see Hermione’s face: he was as impressed as she was, despite his initial reaction to write off any of Luna’s bright ideas. But she was right – he hoped. Where would Malfoy be without his father and his henchmen? There’d still be Snape backing him up all the time, but apart from that – well, he’d coped with Snape up to now; and there were only two more years left to go.

But the train was beginning to slow down.

“Come on,” said Ginny. “Another year. Let’s get our things.”

They assembled all their baggage on the station platform to the accompaniment of Hagrid’s shouts for the new first years. It was completely dark now, and a low full moon helped light the path to the carriages. Harry could see the thestrals pawing the ground as they waited for the carriages to fill up.

“Are those things pulling the carriages again?” asked Ron quietly.

“Yeah,” said Harry, remembering that Ron wouldn’t be able to see them.

“Give them a pat from me.”

“Do it yourself.”

“If you tell me where they are.”

“Pulling the carriages of course.”

Ron gave Harry a shove towards the carriage door. “Come on, wise guy.”

The carriages took them along the road up to the castle. As they came round a corner, they saw the blaze of lights shining from its windows. Climbing out of the carriage, they walked up the long flight of stone steps up to the entrance hall. But there they saw Professor McGonagall hurrying up to them, a distraught expression on her face.

“Longbottom!” she called out.

“Yes, Professor?” Neville replied, anxiously, wondering what he could have done wrong so early in the term.

Then Professor McGonagall saw Ron, Harry and Hermione standing behind Neville. She bit her lip, hesitated for a moment before saying: “All four of you. Come with me now.”

They followed her along the corridor to her classroom, where she stopped.

“Could you wait inside, Neville?” she asked.

Neville’s eyebrows went up. She did her best to smile at him. “It’s all right, you haven’t done anything wrong.”

Neville gave her another look, then went into the room. Professor McGonagall pulled the door to, and turned to the others.

“There’s been some bad news from St Mungo’s. Apparently Neville’s mother – well, she died last night.” She stopped for a moment before going on and looked round at the three of them. Her face was sombre. “I know you’ll all do your best to support Neville. He’ll need your help.”

Hermione broke the silence. “Of course, Professor.” The others muttered noises of agreement.

“Thank you. Now I must go and break the news to him. Could you please wait here while I do that?”

Without waiting for an answer, she went into the classroom to talk to Neville. Ron, Harry and Hermione looked at each other, shocked but wordless. Harry knew something about how Neville must be feeling – but then, he’d never really known his parents properly – not like Neville. He could see the expressions on the faces of the other two. Nothing like this had ever happened to them – yet.

A few minutes later Professor McGonagall emerged from her room, saying to them: “I’m afraid I must go and organise the Sorting now. Can you do what you can for Neville?”

Soundlessly they entered the room, as Professor McGonagall sped down the corridor. Neville was staring into space, his eyes fixed on the wall. They sat round him, not sure what quite to say, then: “Neville …” began Hermione.

“It’s all right,” said Neville, suddenly shifting his gaze to her. “I never really knew her, anyway. She’d been in St Mungo’s – like that – since I was a baby.”

“Even so,” said Ron.

“Yeah, I know,” said Neville. He sighed. “Well, at least the other news is that Dad seems to be improving. I mean, he’s not himself yet, but he’s better than he was.”

“That’s good,” said Hermione brightly.

“Yeah.” Neville’s eyes met Harry’s, and he smiled weakly. “Now we both know what it’s like.”

Harry nodded. He didn’t know which was worse – having no parents, or having them in the state he’d seen Neville’s parents in the hospital.

“Well,” said Neville, “we’re missing the Sorting.”

“No big deal,” said Ron.

“I’d have liked to have heard what the Hat said,” Hermione remarked. “But I can catch up with Professor McGonagall later and find out.”

“Come on,” said Neville, standing up, “let’s go to the Feast.”

“Are you sure?” asked Ron.

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Why not?”

By the time they got the Great Hall, everyone else had started, and they hurried to their places, getting some curious looks from the others.

“I’m starving,” said Ron, tucking in.

But the excitement of the evening had been dampened for them.

Harry cast glances in Neville’s direction, but he too was tucking in. Had it been a relief for him? But then Harry remembered the moment when his mother had handed him a sweet wrapper, and how Neville had tucked it away in his pocket. Yes, perhaps a relief in one way, but no one loses their mother without pain.

But Harry’s attention was then caught by something else: Ron had stopped shovelling food into his mouth, had sat bolt upright, and was staring up towards the Top Table. Harry followed his stare. Sitting in the robes of a Professor, eating away with the other teachers, was Percy Weasley.

“What’s he doing here?” hissed Ron.

Harry could see he was sitting next to Shacklebolt. “Looks to me,” he said carefully, “as if he’s the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

“What??” Ron erupted.

“Just as well we’re doing the Advanced course,” said Harry carefully. “That means we get Kingsley.”

“What? Oh, yeah, right. Even so …”

Hermione had been listening in to the conversation. “Good move by Dumbledore,” she remarked.

“What??” Ron almost shouted this time.

“Well, it’s obvious he’s going to be a Ministry nark, and a very obvious one too. Better him than someone you’re not sure about.”

Harry thought about this. Hermione was right, as usual. Putting Percy into Hogwarts was as good as Fudge saying: ‘I’m keeping an eye on you’.

“We could, of course, use it to our advantage,” Hermione went on.

“Oh? How?”

“Letting him know things which … aren’t quite right.”

An evil grin began to spread over Ron’s face. “Yeah …”

“But with subtlety,” said Hermione severely. “Feed him rubbish and he’ll cotton on, won’t he?”

Neville was listening too. “I can do that. He’ll suspect something coming from one of you three.”

“Thanks, Neville. As I said, we’ll have to keep it believable – and not too much either. But it might be a useful weapon for the future.”

“There’s another new teacher up there too,” Ron remarked.

“Intelligent Magical Creatures,” said Hermione briefly. “It’s Ferdinand Wynne.”

“How do you know that?” said Ron, impressed despite himself.

“He wrote a book on house elves a few years ago. The Ministry prevented it being published.”

“House elves?” Ron glanced at her suspiciously.

“That’s right.”

“How do you know that if it hasn’t been published?”

“Research,” said Hermione.

Ron was about to say something else, but he didn’t get the chance. The Feast over, Dumbledore stood up.

“Welcome back to a new school year,” he began. “I am sure that you will all have recovered from certain events that have recently disturbed the school” - Harry glanced at Percy, to see how he was taking this little sally, but Percy merely stared ahead, unabashed - “but I must warn you that things in the world outside are not all they might be, and so I must ask that you pay more attention than usual to various school rules, including those relating to the school bounds, and, in particular, the Forbidden Forest.”

“Eternal vigilance,” Ron hissed, in an excellent imitation of Mad Eye Moody (or, at least Bartimeus Crouch’s impersonation of Moody). Harry almost thought he heard Neville giggle.

“And now I must welcome three new teachers to the school. First, Percy Weasley, who many of you will remember as a member of Gryffindor House, to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts.”

Harry saw Percy almost preening himself as polite applause came from the staff and students.

“Pompous …” hissed Ron. Harry missed the second word, but could make a fairly good guess as to what it was.

“Kingsley Shacklebolt, who will take the new Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts course, and Ferdinand Wynne, Intelligent Magical Creatures.”

There was more polite applause for the new teachers.

“And now, prefects will take the new First Years to their dormitories.”

“Look after Neville,” whispered Hermione to Harry. “Ron and I can take the First Years.”

“Sure.”

“And we’ll let the others know what’s happened at the same time.”

“Good thinking.”

He could see Neville a little way ahead, and pushed through the crowd to catch up with him.

“Hi, Neville.”

Neville looked slightly surprised. “Aren’t you supposed to be looking after the first years?”

“Ron and Hermione are doing that.”

“Oh.” They were out into the entrance hall. “You don’t have to, you know.”

“Don’t have to do what?”

“Look after me.”

“No – but we’re supposed to be friends, aren’t we?”

Neville stopped, and to his shock and surprise, Harry saw his eyes filling with tears. Oh Lord, he thought. He knew he wouldn’t be any good at dealing with a tearful Neville. Hermione would be much better than he would be.

“Neville ...”

Neville sniffed. “It’s okay,” he said, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “It’s not Mum – it’s what you just said.”

“Oh?”

“About friends.”

“Yeah, well, we are, aren’t we?”

Neville nodded. “Yeah. But I suppose it’s the first time I’ve realised what that means.”

“Friends are here to try to help, aren’t they? At time like this?”

Neville nodded again. “Yeah. Thanks.”

They walked up to Gryffindor Tower in silence – for which Harry was faintly though guiltily thankful. The others had obviously been briefed before their arrival by Ron and Hermione, and in their awkward teenage fashion gathered round Neville, who seemed slightly overwhelmed by the attention. Most of the others were busy unpacking, but Harry stayed with Neville out of an obscure sense of duty.

Ron and Hermione eventually joined them, and they sat for a long time in silence, watching the flickering flames, until they began yawning with tiredness. Eventually Neville stood up, and the others took his lead. But that night, the boys’ dormitory was more subdued than usual, and for more than one of them, sleep took a long time coming.