Rise From The Ashes

Chapter Four: The End of Summer

Finally.

It was the only clear thought in Harry's head as he prepared to board the Hogwarts train. He wondered if anyone else looked forward to the start of the school year as much as he did. He knew his friend Hermione enjoyed school as much as most wizards and wizards enjoyed Quidditch, but he didn't think she exactly hated her summers - especially this one. Harry grinned, remembering her letters about her visit to Bulgaria. Her parents had allowed her to go, but only if they could come along to "supervise." Viktor Krum's family had financed their trip, despite the Grangers' desire to pay their own way; Harry suspected they didn't entirely trust Muggle forms of transportation like airplanes. From what Hermione had written, hers and Krum's parents had gotten on fairly well, and they all had had a marvelous time. But Harry was more interested in what she left out of her letters. His green eyes sparked with mischief. He hoped up she was prepared to put up with a lot of teasing from him. He wondered how much it would bother Ron, though.

Ron. Thank goodness for him and his family; they had let him stay with them for two whole weeks, and Harry knew it was not easy for them to board another person on their already tight budget. He had tried to get Mrs. Weasley to take some "rent money," but she refused. "We don't charge family, Harry," she had said, smiling down at him with maternal benevolence. There was silence for a long moment, during which Harry had rubbed his eyes vigorously and become fascinated by the ceiling. He wished he had been able to tell her how much her words had meant to him, without getting all weepy. Next to Hogwarts, the Weasleys' house was his favorite place in the world.

His least favorite place, naturally, was the Dursleys'. The summer hadn't been as bad as Harry thought it would, considering the ton-tongue toffee incident last year. It was incredibly dull, though. The most remarkable thing was that Dudley had actually lost some weight, according to the expensive new scale Aunt Petunia had insisted on buying. Frankly, Harry thought his horrid cousin still looked like a pig in a wig. If he hadn't known that Dudley was as stupid as he was mean, he would have suspected him of tampering with the scale. Several times during the summer, Harry had been strongly tempted to use his powers and do just that. Making Dudley seem even fatter would send all three Dursleys into fits. He had managed to restrain himself, but only just.

His time there had been bearable, thanks to letters and birthday gifts from the people who mattered. Hermione had sent him a copy of Bulgaria's top-secret Quidditch playbook. Even though it was for last season, it must have been hard to get. He suspected she had asked her new boyfriend to pull some strings for her. Harry was willing to bet that Krum hadn't been too happy about it. He hoped Krum didn't still think Hermione fancied him or something.

Ron had given him some of Fred and George's best new prototypes from the joke shop, and his mother had sent along a beautiful new Weasley sweater; apparently, they had wanted him to get the gifts right on his birthday, instead of waiting to present them until he came to stay.

Hagrid had also sent his gifts; his usual homemade, rock-hard cake, and a manual on the maintenance of invisibility cloaks, which came with a substance that you used to keep it, well, invisible. Harry hadn't even known that his cloak needed any special sort of looking-after, but he was very grateful to his half-giant friend. Hagrid's heart was always in the right place, but the gifts he gave Harry were usually more alarming than useful. Harry sincerely hoped this marked the start of a new trend.

Even with his friends' help, summer at the Dursleys' was still far from pleasant. It looked even more unpleasant when compared to his all-too-brief stay with Ron's family. Fred and George took him to their joke shop, which was still under construction, and showed him loads of wickedly entertaining new stuff. Percy, who was still as pompous as ever, had invited Harry to his and Penelope's wedding (blushing a little, Harry noticed), which was to take place shortly before Christmas. He was already threatening the twins with Unforgivable Curses and sky-high ministry fines if they ruined the day for him, but Harry doubted even the blackest of threats could stop Fred and George from having their fun.

The only problem Harry had encountered during his stay had to do with Ron. For some reason, he was out of sorts. Harry frowned. No, that wasn't quite right. He wasn't angry or annoyed; he hadn't been short with Harry, or any of his family. He just seemed .... distracted. Everyone had noticed. At first, Harry had thought it was about Hermione and Krum, but according to what Ginny told him, Ron hadn't started acting strangely until a while after Harry's birthday. He just spent a little too much time staring out his window, as if he were waiting for an important letter. Whenever Harry asked him what he was doing, Ron would start, and mutter something lame and unconvincing about "enjoying the view." Not wanting to start a fight like the one they had last year, Harry had left it at that. But he was still concerned about his friend, and had no clue as to what might be troubling him. Maybe Hermione would know, like she had the last time.

"Harry, are you coming onto the train, or are you just going to stand there and stare at it?" came Hermione's merry voice, shaking Harry out of his reverie. He looked up to see Hermione grinning at him, exposing her improved set of teeth.

"Yes, madam prefect, I'm coming," Harry teased her, as he hastened onto the train, pushing his school supplies, along with Hedwig, in front of him. Hermione's prefect badge gleamed in the sun as she made a little face at him and stuck out her tongue playfully. It was another surprising gesture from her, in a week full of them. Evidently, dating Viktor Krum had caused Hermione to lose some of her McGonagall-like sternness. Harry wasn't adverse to the change, but it was a bit unsettling to see her acting so easygoing, especially now that she was a prefect. Her new attitude would definitely take some getting used to.

Harry got on board not a moment too soon. Before he could even sit down, the last whistle blew, and they were pulling out of the platform, waving furiously to Mr. And Mrs. Weasley - though Ron was doing so rather half-heartedly, Harry noted. He had boarded the train silently, and quite a few minutes ahead of time. As his parents' faces blurred, Harry saw Ron let his hands and his head drop.

Hermione looked at Harry questioningly. During her few days at the Weasleys, she had slept in Ginny's room, and from the giggling Harry had so often heard coming from their direction, Ginny had been far more interested in discussing Viktor Krum than any changes in her brother. Knowing this, it was no surprise that Hermione had not really noticed Ron's marked change in mood.

I'll tell you later

, he mouthed, in answer to her look. He nodded at Ron, indicating that in the meantime, they should sit down and try to cheer him up.

She nodded, and they took their seats. Ginny was in another car with some of her fellow fourth-years. She seemed to be gaining some popularity, Harry had noticed, and some confidence. He could actually smile at her without making her blush. Although Harry had noticed that she looked quite pretty when she blushed, he was glad she wasn't doing it much any longer. Ginny would probably be a great girlfriend, and Harry had toyed around with the idea of asking her out more than once. He imagined her eyes getting as big as saucers. He even had a dream about it; he was trying to ask her out, but she couldn't hear him, because he was standing atop a giant pedestal.

The dream had made him laugh, but it didn't take a genius to figure out its meaning. Ginny was great, but she still seemed to see him as the famous Harry Potter. Harry needed someone who could see him as just plain Harry, an uncertain young wizard who had been plucked out of his dull Muggle world, and often resented being famous simply for having survived. Someone like....

No, no, no. No!

Harry told himself, gritting his teeth. He'd better quit while he was head, or Ron wouldn't be the only person in this compartment who wasn't happy. He had thought of Cho quite a bit over the summer. He still felt very much attracted to her, but he could never go out with her, even if she made the first move. It would feel too much like .... grave robbing. The thought almost made Harry shudder. Sometimes, late at night a darker thought had crossed his mind. He knew Cho must read The Daily Prophet, just like everyone else. He doubted she had believed all the bad things that Skeeter cow had read, when she wrote them ... but that was before her boyfriend died because of him. A growing part of him was haunted by the thought that she may have begun to think he had deliberately caused Cedric's death in order to get to her.

Realizing that his thoughts were rapidly drawing him into a melancholy to rival his friend's, Harry shook himself out of them, though not without significant effort. Hermione was looking at him again, eyebrows raised as if to say Well, let's get on with it shall we? He looked up at Ron, clearing his throat loudly.

"Huh?" Ron looked as though he had been a million miles away. Poor guy. The only good thing about this was that Ron's troubles would distract Harry from his own. "Sorry, Harry, did you say something?"

"Er, no," Harry said. "Just - just had a little something in my throat is all." With an encouraging nod from Hermione, he continued. "Um, so, Ron .... Well, what d'you think'll be in store for us this year?" Harry sincerely hoped his casual tone did not sound as forced as it felt.

A silence followed, during which Ron looked out the window. What is it with him and windows lately? Harry wondered. Is he under some sort of window-ogling spell or something? After what seemed like a long time, Ron finally turned and spoke to him.

"What? Oh. Um, I dunno ... maybe we'll all ride unicorns." Luna loves unicorns, said a little voice in Ron's head, even as he took in Harry's confused look. She says she can charm them just by singing to them.

Why hadn't she answered his last letter? Had she decided she couldn't hang out with a Gryffindor now that she had scored the Head Girl spot for Slytherin? But she had given no indication of that in her letter. Besides, she would never do something like that, would she? No, no, of course not. Was she in trouble?

This last question had been bothering Ron most of all. The thought of his secret friend in danger had made him realize how much she meant to him; she was pretty much right up there with Harry and Hermione. Maybe if he told them, they could help him find out...

Not a good idea,

said a voice in the back of his head. They would probably be mad he had kept something this big a secret for this long. They might even think he was under Luna's spell, or worse, that he had a crush on her, and in any case had switched his loyalties. A crush? It almost made Ron laugh despite himself. Yeesh. She was pretty and all but ... well, so was Ginny, but that didn't mean he had a crush on her. Ick. Luna was just way too much like a sister for him to think of her in those terms.

"Ron? RONALD WEASLEY! Are. You. Listening. To. Me. Or WHAT?"

Ron started again. Hermione's cheeks were flushed from yelling, and Harry was looking at her in goggle-eyed disbelief. Ron waited till she seemed to have calmed down a bit. She looked a little embarrassed at her outburst, but she was still looking straight at him, waiting for an answer.

"I'm - I'm ... sorry," he finally sighed. He had to tell them at least part of the truth, or they would never stop till they found out all of it. He took a deep breath.

"Alright, look, it's like this. Dunno if you've noticed, but something's been bothering me -" Harry made an it-was-obvious noise beside him, but Hermione shushed him, her eyes still locked with Ron's. " - and .... I can't really say too much about it, or I might get someone in trouble. Don't worry," he assured his friends hastily, as their eyes widened, "It's nothing dangerous ... I think. It's just, well ..." He looked at Hermione. She looks even prettier this year, he thought, and before he quite new what he was saying, he had blurted out, "It's about a girl."

"Oh? Oh." Harry seemed to think he understood now. He smiled and winked at Ron, but his smile faded as he looked at Hermione. She was staring at Ron as though he had confessed to being a werewolf.

"A girl?" she echoed, as if she were unable, for the first time in her life, to immediately absorb information. For a long minute, her expression remained quite blank. Then she seemed to recover. She shook her head, and gave Ron a tight-lipped smile.

"Well, that's certainly better than anything I would have thought of."

"So that's why you were always looking out the window. Waiting for letters, I knew it! Got her own owl, has she? You been having a secret pen pal romance? Who is she? C'mon Ron, I promise not to tease you about it ... much." Again, Harry's eyes sparked with mischief. Ignoring Hermione's dark look, he smiled encouragingly at Ron. I'll have a lot of teasing to do this year, he decided.

"Er. I can't tell you." Ron's eyes were darting from him to Hermione, looking a bit nervous. "I mean, not now. It's not ... I mean I'm not sure we'll be going out," he finished lamely. Damn. He had been rationalizing for the last few minutes by telling himself that, technically, he had not lied. They had just misunderstood. Now, he was out-and-out deceiving them. And it's all just to make Hermione jealous, he realized. That was the worst of all. They had been friends for years. Why couldn't he put aside the fact he'd "noticed" she was a girl, and be happy that she was happy? Damn damn damn. He felt like scum.

Harry and Hermione both nodded, as if they completely understood. Then, silence seemed to suffocate their small compartment to of the Hogwarts Express.

Ron had the feeling it was going to be a long ride.

* * * *

The trio arrived at Hogwarts right on time.

Anyone looking closely enough would have realized that their spirits, while not exactly down, were at least a bit subdued. On his way to escorting first years across the lake (lucky for them it was mild weather this year), Hagrid paused to smile at his three favorite students. But the gentle giant's smile turned into a puzzled frown when he read their expressions. Across the way, Harry saw him open his mouth as if to ask them a question, but after glance at the nervous mass of first years, the groundskeeper seemed to realize he had no time for conversation. Harry had no doubt Hagrid would be wanted to talk to them later as soon as he could.

Well, so much for the first big surprise of the year,

Harry thought. Which brought him to the next one. Finally, he had thought of something they could all discuss safely!

"So," he said, turning to his friends, "who do you think they got for the Defense Against the Dark Arts job?"

The question had precisely the effect he had intended. Hermione's eyes lit up, and she started in on a list of names, all of which Harry knew he would probably forget. They all knew Moody had turned down Dumbledore's offer for a second year (or rather, a first) at Hogwarts. Harry suspected he had come out of retirement to help Dumbledore and "the old crowd" to fight against Voldemort's return to power.

Quickly jerking his thoughts away from the most evil wizard of their time, Harry focused on Ron's speculations about the new teacher. "Maybe Lupin will come back," he said hopefully. "He was the best we've ever had."

"Ooh, that would be nice," Hermione agreed, "but I don't think it's likely, not with all the awful prejudices people have against werewolves. There'd be a lot of objections from narrow-minded, over-protective parents." Harry nodded at her reluctantly. He might not like it, but as usual, Hermione's sensible mind had quickly come to the most likely answer.

Ron shrugged.

"Well, besides Lupin, I'd really like to see a woman teach us ... I'm sure a woman could do it best, anyway," she grinned slyly at her two male companions.

"Yeah, sure," Ron snorted, "she'd probably have a mouse-boggart, and she would be standing shrieking on her desk while all us guys had to destroy it -"

"Excuse me," said Hermione scathingly, even though her comment had clearly invited a retort, "but I don't think someone who's scared to death of harmless little spiders should be casting insults around about other people's fear of tiny creatures."

Ron glowered at her, but said nothing.

Harry was very glad when they finally got into the Great Hall.

They took their seats. "Ron, I'm sorry," Hermione said in a rather meek voice. "That was a cheap shot."

"Forget it." Ron shrugged. Harry saw, to his relief that Ron really didn't look angry. "You had a point. But I was just kidding you know -"

"Look!"

They both turned to look up at the teachers' table. Harry had spotted the new Dark Arts teacher first. Hermione's wish had come true; for the first time since Harry had been at Hogwarts, their new teacher was a woman. Harry and his friends took a moment to study her features.

She was slim, and very pale, but not to the point that she looked unhealthy. She had a small, heart-shaped face, with an oddly angular jaw. Her cheekbones were high, and jutted out rather sharply from the rest of her face. Her mouth was small and thin-lipped. Her nose was very odd; it was small, but it looked damaged, as though it had been broken at least once, but had been set back improperly, with the bones being allowed to heal a crooked angle. Perhaps she had been hit by a Bludger or two in her youth. She didn't look like the sort who would go in for Quidditch, though. But what really got Harry's attention were her eyes.

Set deep in her small face, they were almond-shaped, framed by long, dark lashes, and were easily her best feature. Their color was a surreal, remarkably vibrant shade of violet. Even Madame Hooch's eyes, with their (to Harry) completely impossible color, were nowhere near as striking as this woman's. He watched as they silently surveyed the hall. Her eyes, along with the rest of her face, were unreadable. Then he felt those eyes settle on him.

For a moment, their gazes locked. She looked startled by him, but her eyes did not flick up to his forehead to check for the scar, as he had expected they would do. After her initial reaction of surprise, she surveyed him coolly, and gave him a small smile before she let her gaze wonder around the room once more.

She looked much better when she smiled, Harry noticed. Her face softened, and her eyes grew even brighter. He couldn't be sure about her yet, but she looked like she should be a good person. On her left was Professor Trelawney. Harry saw the new teacher roll her eyes to the ceiling as the Divination professor said something to her, making a dramatic gesture in the air, causing her bracelets to clank loud enough for him to hear. Harry smiled. Ok, he decided, at least we know she's smart. On her left, his color even more sallow than usual, sat one of the few people at Hogwarts that Harry couldn't stand - the Potions Master, Severus Snape.

Harry still wasn't sure what to think about him, especially after last year, but it was probably best not to disturb their normal hate-hate relationship. He doubted if Snape would treat him any differently this year. Probably worse. If that was even possible.

There was something else ... it took Harry a minute to realize it. The new teacher's gaze roamed the students' tables, scrutinized the faces of the other professors, contemplated the enchanted ceiling - they were looking everywhere but at Snape. And Snape was staring steadfastly at the table. They were making a distinct effort not to look at each other.

Harry turned to his friends to see if they had noticed this, but he only had time to hear Ron ask "Did you see hear eyes?" and Hermione gloat "You see? It takes a woman to do that job, boys!" They were announcing the beginning of the Sorting Ceremony.

Although interested to see the newest batch of Gryffindors (please don't let Colin have another brother!), Harry fidgeted impatiently throughout the Sorting. He wanted to start speculating with his friends about their new teacher. When it was finally over, Harry eagerly waited for Dumbledore to announce her name.

After a few of the usual humdrum notices he had to say every year, Dumbledore finally looked over at her. "And lastly," he said, his blue eyes twinkling with warmth, "is it my great pleasure to introduce Hogwarts alumnus Florence Riordan as your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

Professor Riordan stood up to acknowledge the polite smattering of applause that had broke out at the end of Dumbledore's sentence. She pursed her lips, and looked at the Headmaster. He nodded.

"Thank you. I look forward to teaching of all of you, and can only hope I don't wear out my welcome as quickly as some of my predecessors have." An uncertain wave of laughter rippled through the Great Hall as she spoke. Professor Riordan sat back down, smiling almost mysteriously.

"And now," Dumbledore said, "the moment I believe you have all been waiting for. Let the feast begin."

Instantly, the empty golden plates on the tables were filled with food. For a while, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were too busy satisfying their appetites to discuss the new teacher. Halfway through a scone, Harry paused, frowning. When Dumbledore had introduced her, something he said had seemed familiar. It was her first name, Florence. Where had he heard that before?

Meanwhile, the owner of said name was picking halfheartedly at her food, her eyes still moving about restlessly. It was quite a switch from the way she'd behaved at her first Hogwarts feast.

After a talking hat had placed her at the Slytherin table, Florence Riordan thought nothing else good surprise her. But when a mouthwatering assortment of foods suddenly appeared before her on the empty golden plates, her eyes nearly popped out of her head.

Force of habit caused her to start shoveling food in so fast several that several people around her turned to stare. It took her a minute to realize they were all looking at her. Her mouth was still bulging with food as she felt her face grow hot. She swallowed sheepishly, and studied her lap for a long moment. During the rest of the meal, she was more subdued.

When they got to their dormitories, Florence had observed the flurry of gossip among the other first year girls, but she had not participated in it. She would need to study their behavior if she wanted to fit in. Not that she had needed to, really. She had been as used to solitude and independence then as she was now. And now, the tables were turned; Hogwarts would have to get used to her.

there ain't no father

there ain't no mother

ain't got no sister

ain't got no brother

running to no one,

running for cover ....

- "Bonefields," by Shawn Colvin