Grim

It was dusk in Hogsmeade; the air was warm, and slightly stifling. In the gloom, the lights of the Three Broomsticks glowed merrily.

"-and school will be starting again, isn't that nice? Can't wait to see all the students in here, it cheers the place up to no end. All bright and happy after the holidays, and so excited to be away from home-- I mean, no offense-" Madam Rosemerta's voice faltered for the first time that night.

"None taken," Harry said quietly, gazing solemnly into his butterbeer. The tavern's proprietor would be much more tolerable if she hadn't decided that it was her responsibility to cheer him up. She hadn't stopped talking for two minutes together since he'd come in that afternoon... He quickly swallowed the rest of his drink and stood up. "I'm sorry, I have to get back to Hogwarts. It's almost curfew." He gathered up his meager supply of second hand text books, trying to arrange them comfortably.

"Right, right you are," she patted him on the shoulders. "Do let me help you with that!" Harry's Defense against the Dark Arts text slid off of the pile in his arms, followed by most of the other books. Harry sighed, slid off his black robe-- the weather was too hot to wear it, anyway-- and made a bundle of everything, which he slung over one shoulder. "There! Ah, that's better, isn't it, dear.."

"Yes, Madam." He hadn't made it out the door before the innkeeper had moved over to a female customer, and started talking. About him. Nasty tendency, that; most adults seemed to share it: talking about younger people in the third person when the youth in question was still well within earshot.

"..he's a poor dear, isn't he, I do what I can-"

The door fell shut behind him, and he set his jaw. Yes, he'd been "poor dear"ed to death--at least here, in Hogsmeade. Back at the school, everyone seemed determined not to speak about it at ALL. This denial was occasionally worse. But he didn't blame them overly much for trying not to remind him that he no longer had a home...

"Come in, Harry. Come here."

Harry had stood uncertainly in the doorway of the headmaster's office, looking in at the tight knot of teachers gathered around Dumbledore's desk. They were all looking at him with expressions of pity; they'd parted quietly as he'd walked forward.

"We thought that you should see this, Harry."

With numb hands, he'd taken the paper that Dumbledore had held out. He'd had to read it twice before any of it sunk in, which was somewhat sad, because it was quite short.

/Believe that the Dursley household is no longer safe../

Harry'd blinked, put the paper down, and looked up at the headmaster again.

"Since the return of the Death Eaters, aurors have been watching your house. They returned that note to us this morning. I am sorry."

"Yes, sir."

"In the interests of your own safety, we would like you to stay here in Hogwarts, for the summer. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"We ARE sorry, Harry.."

"Yes, sir. You said, sir."

Of course, that had been several months ago. Exile from Surrey was hardly painful. Separation from the Dursleys was worthy of great celebration. But-- he sometimes wondered--

Unsafe how?

Had he been safe before, with his uncle and aunt? Yes, Voldemort had implied that being near his relations kept him safe.. So what, then? Dead? Probably not, Dumbledore would have told him outright..

"HARRY!" The voice derailed his train of thought with a spectacular crash.

"Hello, Hagrid," Harry grinned.

"You're out awful late. I was just going to come down and look for ye.."

"I'm sorry Hagrid. But I've got almost everything I need for the fifth year," he said, cocking his head toward his makeshift pack. "At least the textbooks, and new quills, and that sort of thing. I think I can re-use my cauldron, and Madame Pomfrey helped me let down my robes-"

"Then ye're all set, ain't ye?" The groundskeeper gave Harry an affectionate slap on the back that made him stagger. "Bet you're all ready for the new term. I'm going to miss your help with the animals, though. Thank ye for getting them through the summer..." Hagrid had been gone for most of the summer, off in some unspecified locale. Though his mission was supposedly secret, Harry had a good guess. In fact, he was prepared to money that he'd been off talking to the giants on Dumbledore's behalf.

"Hmm. At least Madam Pince thinks we've finally rounded up all the books that got unchained." Whatever was going on outside of the school's grounds, it was causing horrendous magical shockwaves. Hogwarts, already saturated with magic, was reacting strangely. In late May, the torches had started burning unusual colors. Towards the middle of June, there'd been an infestation of small sparkling lights, followed by Miss Norris almost getting pulled into a painting. The latest crisis had consisted of several of the books in the restricted section flying away, and hiding up in the rafters of the library: Harry had spent the last three days with no company but a ladder and a butterfly net.

"Ah, that's good. Maybe the school'll calm down when everyone's come back?"

"I suppose so." Harry smiled wearily. They'd reached the castle, and he and the groundskeeper parted company. By the time he'd navigated the everchanging stairs, he was almost asleep on his feet.

Hedwig was waiting for him in the boy's dorm, perching watchfully above a small, ragged letter. Sitting down on his bed, he unfolded it, and managed to make out Sirius's handwriting. It'd be the first news he'd had from his godfather in a month: he should... read..

---------

Harry was awakened by claws digging into his hand, and an insistant rasping shriek into his ear.

"Ahgh? Hedwig, get OFF, I'm awake.."

The owl glared at him balefully. He'd fallen asleep fully clothed, with Sirius's letter crushed in his fist. He tried to flatten it out with only marginal success.

The letter contained no news, really, aside from a few mentions of skirmishes with Death Eaters. But--

/P.S. Everything smells wrong. Keep your eyes peeled./

Cheerful. Harry sighed, and tucked the letter safely into a breast pocket.

He staggered down the stairs to breakfast: fortunately, the meal woke him out of his stupor.

Unfortunately, he had nothing to do for the rest of the day. The meager supply of fiction to be found in Hogsmeade stores had a depressing tendency to all be named "Love's (adjective) (noun)." After a month of boredom in summer, he'd been desperate enough to try it, but "Love's stormy flame" had been read cover to cover twice now. He spent a productive half hour sorting his quills by color and size.

At a loss for anything else to do, he laid back on his bed and opened this year's History of Magic text.

-----

"Hedwig, not again!" Harry jerked upright, his head throbbing. The owl hopped off his hand, and onto the window sill, silhouetted against the sunset.

Sunset! Night was here! Finally--

Ignoring his headache, Harry took the stairs to the Gryffindor common room two at a time. Madam Pince was waiting for him.

"Harry, they said you were asleep and I decided to wait. I know you've got to be at the feast in an hour or so, but please, Care and Keeping has gotten out again.."

Harry suppressed a groan. The Care and Keeping of Dangerous Magical Beasts had a tendency to ambush the unsuspecting library-goer, not to mention a nasty penchant for chewing through butterfly nets.

"I'll get the chains, then, Madam Pince."

"Thank you, dear."
-----------

Thanks to the impeccable timing of Care and Keeping, Harry bolted into the great hall a good ten minutes late. Ron and Hermoine waved to him frantically, and he squeezed in next to them.

"That's Esmerelda Seressima up under the sorting hat," Ron whispered excitedly, pointing at the pale, dark haired young woman shivering under the hall's scrutiny. "It's taking forever to decide-"

Harry was about to ask why this was of note when the Hat called out, "Hufflepuff!"

A wave of cheering erupted. Harry looked curiously at his friends.

"She's the first person in a hundred and fifty years with more than three S's in her name to be put in any house besides Slytherin," Hermoine explained. "Or at least, that's what the prefects are saying."

"Ah."

Ron grinned at Harry. "You're not half dusty. What've you been doing?"

"Chasing a book for Madam Pince," Harry said, gently prodding a deep paper cut.

"They've had you working for HER all summer? Hard luck."

Harry looked thoughtful. "It's not so bad. Actually, she's stopped glaring at me as often."

They were interrupted by a loud cheer. Phoebe Zeitgeist had just gotten into Gryffindor, and the sorting ceremony was over.

"Cor, would you look at this spread!" Ron grinned appreciatively as the food materialized. Everyone threw themselves into the meal with gusto-- in fact, looking around, Harry noticed that everyone seemed slightly paler and more underfed than usual. The Slytherin table was remarkably sparse; Draco, Crabbe, and Goyle especially were conspicuous by their absence.

As the feast tailed off, Dumbledore stood up, and everyone quieted down expectantly. He smiled at the students warmly before beginning the start of term announcements.

"For all first years, please be aware that the forest is strictly off limits, as is the village of Hogsmeade, unless you are in the third year or above and your parents have signed the permission form.

Our caretaker, Mr. Filch, has added "fantastic poppers, " "jackbombs," and "razorjacks" to the items that will not be allowed on school ground: possession of "Professor Jay's Wonderful Self Motivated Slinkies" shall be considered a suspendable offense. For those interested, the full list of banned items may be found in Mr. Filch's office." The headmaster adjusted his spectacles and in very casual tones, said, "Students, be warned that certain magical events of the past few weeks may have severely altered the nature of time within Hogwarts."

There was dead silence.

----

"What do you suppose he meant?" Ron asked when the students were safely in their house dorms. "Are we going to have a mess like we did with that time turner a few years ago?"

"No, I think it's worse," Hermoine said. "Didn't you notice that the great hall was awfully crowded this year? Emma Dobbs-- she's a second year-- swears she was sitting next to a girl who thought it was 1864."

"Oh, dear." Harry shook his head, and launched into a full account of the bizarre happenings of the past summer. "-and that's why I was late to the feast. So I suppose it's not much of a surprise.." He sighed. "What's it like outside? Hermoine, how were the states?"

Hermoine's parents had pulled up roots as soon as word had reached them that Voldemort was back in power: they were currently restarting their dental practice in the United States.

"It's all right. You wouldn't believe the people I've met over there, though. All prancing about worshipping fairies and carrying these ridiculous crystals, and calling it "magick"." She clicked the ending "k" with disgust, and shook her head. "Ron? How was your summer?"

"Not good." The redhead frowned. "Everyone's scared. There are aurors everywhere, and nobody goes outside at night, and some people have even taken to putting up blackout curtains on their windows. It looks a bit like old pictures of the blitz. The newspapers are full of people going missing, too. The Ministry of Magic's been absolutely swamped making memory charms for all the Muggles who've seen magical explosions and the like."

"Ah." Harry stared gloomily into the fire. He'd just found this world a few years ago, and now it was falling to bits. Wonderful.

On that cheerful note, the friends parted company and went up to their dorms.