Harry Potter and the Return to Hogwarts

6

"From hence, let fierce contending nations know what dire effects from civil discord flow." - J. Addison (1672-1719)

Serena liked the Forbidden Forest. Knowing that she was allowed to be there, and her pupils weren't, was a major bonus point. Of course it was rather dark at night, but it allowed her to roam as wild as she wanted to. She would've gone skyclad, if there hadn't been the slightest chance that she might run into one of her colleagues. Skyclad to celebrate life. Teaching the pupils about the magical system of laws wasn't really as exciting as she needed it to be. She should have realised that when she applied, but it had sounded like such good idea at the time. Luckily she had a lot of free time that wasn't tied up with teaching. Of course one of the perks of the job was this, feeling dangerous and wild while patrolling the grounds. Her eyes lit up as she heard voices. Three voices to be precise.

"And where do you think you are going, my dears?" All three of them turned around, deer caught in the headlight of a car, and nothing they could do about it.

"It was very warm in the tower," Marcus tried with innocence.

"We couldn't sleep," Marius continued.

"So, we wanted to start early on our homework assignment for Potions," Magnus was clearly the most skilled liar of the three. He'd be hell on wheels, figuratively speaking of course, in a couple of years.

"Well, gentlemen. I believe that this calls for a particularly subtle blend of psychology and extreme violence," her voice sounded so gleeful that the triplets shrank together.

"Not the..."

"Professor, you can't be..."

"Serious!"

She tried as hard as she could not to smile. "Yes, now back to the castle. I believe the three of you have an appointment? Because, my friends, I happen to find the defendants incredibly guilty. And I know others who will as well."

"You aren't going to tell Professor Granger, are you?" Marius looked worried.

"Because she'll yell, really really loud."

"Well, to be blunt: you should've thought of that before you went carousing around in the Forbidden Forest. Did you think it acquired its name because we want you to wander about?"

Marcus opened his mouth to answer, but a quick kick from Magnus set a stopper for that.

Serena nodded. "Well, march."

They walked back to the castle in silence. By the time they had reached professor Granger's chambers the silence alone was enough to make the Hecklethorpe triplets confess anything to anyone who asked.

It was a tired Hermione who opened at Serena's first knock. "Oh, it's you. Well, I'm just going back to my lovely dreams about..." She began to close the door.

"Ahem. I found these three loitering about in the forest. Thought you wanted to scream at them before they'll have their detention with Professor Ash tomorrow. And it's 20 points from Gryffindor, each, for being out of bed at this our. Admit it," Serena leaned in. "Being bad feels pretty good, huh?"

She made her way out of the castle again, leaving the troublemakers with Hermione.

"Well, what bloody well am I going to do with you? The three of you meet in my classroom after classes tomorrow."

"Won't we have detention then?"

"No talking back to me at this hour. Go to bed."

Hermione closed the portrait in their faces. Magnus stared at it for a long while.

"Well, chaps. I suppose we only have 583 detentions to go before we beat the famed Marauders."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Marcus did not enjoy his detention. Mucking hippogriff dung was different in theory than it was when he was actually doing it. For one thing, it smelt. For another thing, it smelt worse than anything he'd been around, ever. And he got sweaty while he was doing it. He was beginning to doubt the plan he and his two brothers so carefully had set up.

As he shovelled he felt quite confident that whatever Marius and Magnus were doing it was a piece of cake, there couldn't be anything as bad as this.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Marius found himself babysitting down in Hogsmeade. Babysitting without a wand, mind you. Changing diapers, burping and feeding three children was harder than it looked. He suddenly felt very compassionate towards his own mother, and vowed that he'd send her a nice bouquet of flowers for Mother's day this year.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Magnus had no idea what he had done wrong. It couldn't simply be that they had been out in the Forbidden Forest after dark. There had to be something more to it than that. He knew that Professor Granger didn't like the way his brother and himself always got into trouble and points taken from Gryffindor, but he didn't think that was it. What had he done that would excuse dusting all the books in the library, save the restricted section, by hand?

~*~*~*~*~*~

Late September, 2012. The Quidditch Pitch

Unlike the previous years at Hogwarts, where the captain of the team usually chose the players, Oliver Wood had selected a panel of judges to help the captains and make less room for nepotism.

That he himself was part of the panel was a given.

Harry was an obvious choice, still holding the record for being the youngest seeker at Hogwarts in a very long time.

Draco had been forced to participate.

Oliver had included Astrid as well.

Just because she had, well, asked.

It was something Serena and Helen, who had pouted around him for a week had neglected to do.

Gryffindor needed a new seeker and a new keeper. Sixth year Irene O'Conell, beater, was captain. Reid Zane, also a sixth year, was the other beater, while Jane Peters, a fourth year, Thomas Daily, a seventh year, and Nancy Warwick, a fifth year, were the chasers.

Draco glanced at the people who were trying out. Not surprisingly the Hecklethorpe troublets were standing down at the pitch. There was one person missing.

"Potter, where the devil is the mini-Potter?"

Harry raised an eyebrow. "Are we talking about David or Aimée?"

"You know who I mean."

"Besides the point that the rule about First years and brooms is still in effect I don't want her trying out."

"Why the devil not?" Draco waved his hand in the direction of Thyra Logan, who kept clinging to her broom like it was a teddy-bear. "She couldn't possibly be worse than the lot that's trying out."

"May I remind you of how much time I spent in the hospital wing after playing?"

"But..."

"And her mum didn't want her to play."

Draco began to sulk.

In the seat next to them Astrid looked up at the sky and began to wax philosophically. "Sunshine is delicious, rain is refreshing, wind braces up, and snow is exhilarating; there is no such thing as bad weather, only different kinds of good weather." She had already decided the two she would pick for the team.

"Thank you, Mary Sunshine," Draco muttered.

"Now, Draco, remember we talked about this? There's a fine line between participation and mockery," Harry grinned.

"Ha ha," Draco replied. "What I want to know is when are we finished with the Gryffindors, the Hufflepuffs and the Ravenclaws so that I can put together a winning team for Slytherin?"

"How do you know Slytherin'll win?" Astrid asked him.

"Because I'll lose 150 galleons if they don't. Believe me, with that kind of incentive Slytherin WILL win."

~*~*~*~*~*~

The Quidditch Pitch, October 11^th, 2012.

There were four very excited Heads of House that attended the first Quidditch match of the season, Ravenclaw versus Slytherin. The bet that Terry had thrown so casually out at their meeting before the tryouts had resulted in some anxiety from all of them. Harry tried very hard not to grin at Hermione, Terry and Justing sporting a Ravenclaw banner.

Draco on the other hand had outdone himself. Entirely dressed in Slytherin colours, his banner screamed obscenities at Ravenclaws, some of them so obscene that Serena was blushing. He had enlisted David as a partner in crime. They were having a nonsensical discussion before the match begun.

"I say, did you know that the oldest known goldfish lived to the ripe age of 41," Draco said to David.

"Filthy piece of Ravenclaw rubbish," yelled the banner.

David nodded. "Yes, I do. Its name was Fred."

"Clever boy, but did you know that..."

"Excuse me," Katharine took a look at the space between Draco and Hermione and decided that it was just enough room for her to squeeze in. She sat down.

"So, what's up?"

Draco merely glared at her before turning to David, "I won't have a battle of wits with an unarmed opponent."

David giggled.

Katharine tapped Draco on the shoulder, just before Hufflepuff Sixth Year Grace Macmillan began to yell into the magical megaphone.

"Welcome to the first match of the year. I'm Grace. It seems like the teams are ready to fly out on the pitch so that we finally can get started."

Draco felt Katharine's breath on his ear just when she whispered into it: "You are a cynical, exploitive, mean-hearted creep who wouldn't know real wit if it bit him in the armpit."

He snorted.

"A-a-nd here we have the Ravenclaw team. Chasers this year are: Bobby "the tongue" Burke, Adele "hot hands" Sawyer and newcomer Charlotte Chittock. Give her a big applause, people. Beaters are Ray and Rose Fancourt. Keeper Beatrice Ball Smith and leading the team this year is the extremely good-looking and attractive Seeker, Pendleton Stennis."

"Wouldn't I?" Katharine opened her mouth to reply, but Draco cut her off with his hand as the commentator begun on the Slytherin line-up. "Shush, I want to hear this. My winning Slytherins."

"Chasers for Slytherin this term are: Wanda Blaire, Chantal Derrick and Bevis Bulstrode. We all hope that beaters Jerry Green and Jude Bole have got some semblance of control over their arms this year. Keeper is Hamish Nott, and seeker is the oh-so-wonderful Adam Thyrbault."

Draco stood up in outrage. "Did you hear that?"

He pointed at Grace. "She dares to mock the Slytherins?"

David giggled.

"He dares to mock me? Well, they'll just have to win now." He sat down, a grumpy expression on his face.

Three hours and a Slytherin win, later the grumpy expression was lost.

~*~*~*~*~*~

Aimée grinned at Perry before she dragged him along. So she had no cloak to make herself invisible with, she still had friends who could do her marauding with her. "Come on, it's all clear."

The two of them, Ion was sick with a cold, tiptoed past the entrance to the Teacher's lounge, loud voices could be heard from within.

"I'll let you know, I've been tormenting her since the first year and I never had to use the same insult twice. Isn't that something?"

"I don't think it qualifies for any kind of Guinness Record, Draco. Insulting Myrtle isn't really all that hard. Even Harry did it once or twice."

"Really, Hermione? It doesn't fit the image of Perfect Potter. And what has beer got to do with a record?"

"Well, we all make mistakes," Aimée's father shouted. "It doesn't mean that you should continually make people's lives worse because I did it."

Once they were past the statue, and the shouting, Aimée and Perry breathed out and tiptoed further down the corridor and landed in the middle of another argument.

Around the corner Helen and Eric were fighting. Again.

"You know, if I ever saw you do something that wasn't ninety percent selfish, I'd die of shock," Eric mumbled, glancing over at the Caretaker.

"Oh, that'd be reason enough for me," Helen grinned before noting the tips of four shoes sticking out from behind the corner.

"Excuse me? Who gave you permission to exist?"

They stepped out, and Helen huffed. Eric glanced at Aimée, before he pointed a finger at her forehead.

"I should report the two of you, both Miss Potter and Mr. MacNamara, right about now."

Aimée gulped, and Perry turned slightly green.

"You wouldn't... would you?" Aimée had to ask. Had it been Draco prowling around in the corridors he would most likely have applauded her ingenuity. Eric and Helen simply looked sternly at them, or Aimée as Perry was busy hiding behind her.

"Give me one reason why we shouldn't?" He hoisted up one of his eyebrows.

Aimée took one step backwards and sent Perry sprawling. "Because I'm... cute?"

"What do you say, Oh Mistress of... Hogwarts?" Eric turned to Helen.

"Off with their heads," Helen gave a casual wave.

"Off with their heads it is. Detention, for getting caught, and forty points of Gryffindor, each. From the tales of Professor Malfoy I expected better of you kid."

"Didn't we all," Perry sighed.

~*~*~*~*~*~

October 31st 2012.

All Hallow's Eve saw Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry host yet another feast.

Headmaster Dumbledore had, for his frail body, still retained the mind of a child when it came to celebrations and each and every holiday were marked in various ways.

This year he had rented in the hottest group at the moment, The Magical Charade, and since posters of the four members of the group, Charlotte Davies, Julian Hughes, Peter Cumberland and Imogen Mumble were liberally posted on all the dormitory walls ever since their first big break-through no one were complaining.

It was rumoured that someone, nobody quite knew who, had some very risqué pictures of the two females, but as far as the staff knew they hadn't been posted anywhere nor did they know who exactly possessed them.

The female portion of the pupils, and a few of the males, had fallen hard for Peter Cumberland, even Professor Sinistra could be seen with an adoring gaze after the foursome had arrived in Professor Dumbledore's office.

Later that evening Harry felt extremely disturbed when he danced with his daughter, before her curfew, and she sighed into his ear: "Daddy, if I was a boy I would want to look just like that."

There were some limits to what a father wanted to hear. His eleven-year-old daughter crushing on a dandy was threading dangerously close to those limits.

"Aimée," he held her out. "I think you should go to bed."

"Why?"

"Because David is in his bed, and I want you in yours. Safe. Away from all these boys."

"All I said was that I wanted to look like that, not that I wanted to snog him into tomorrow."

"Thank the heavens for that."

"Can I stay up a little bit longer?" she gazed up at him, and the Gryffindor-red tie she'd tied herself earlier.

"You've got the same curfew as the rest of the First Years. Just stay away from boys."

"I promised Professor Malfoy I'd save him a dance. Look there he is," she pointed over to where a green-faced Draco was dancing with Professor Sinistra who was gushing on about something. Harry, who had been trapped with her earlier, suspected it might be about the blueness of Peter Cumberland's eyes and how they perfectly matched the blue stripes in his hair.

Harry was beginning to suspect Cumberland of having Veela blood. But he would probably be laughed at by his daughter if he mentioned it. Instead he just sighed and put his head on top of his daughter. "How fickle is women? You're abandoning me for Malfoy."

Harry felt that those two females, the drummer and the bass-player, they were some excellent musicians. The red hair that was being wildly shaken around by the drummer (was he old when he didn't know their names?) reminded him of the date he had with another redhead down in Hogsmeade, as soon as he could be certain that his daughter would behave.

"Aimée?"

"Yes, dad?"

"Would you mind awfully going over to save Malfoy?"

His daughter rolled her eyes.

"Going down to Hogsmeade are we?"

"Whatever gave you that idea? I'm just going out for a bit of fresh air."

Aimée rolled her eyes again, he really had to talk with her about that awful habit of hers, but now wasn't the time. "Yeah right, and Father Christmas has shacked up with the Tooth Fairy in the Tower of London."

"I figure he needs some loving care," Harry kissed her cheek. "Do behave?"

&ldqo;Sure."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Harry wore the invisibility cloak. It was a bit snugger than it had been when he could fit both Ron and Hermione with him under it, but it still hid him perfectly, so who was he to complain?

Aimée was insulted that he hadn't passed the cloak on to her, to keep up the Potter tradition of marauding, as Hermione reluctantly had told her about.

The question was why would he give her the cloak when it was perfect for these occasions he had indulged in more and more often? He could most certainly walk in peace down to Hogsmeade, but getting into the Three Broomsticks would prove more difficult without getting observed.

And there was one thing Harry didn't want: a front page of the Daily Prophet telling the world about his relationship with Virginia E. Weasley.

Especially before he knew if there was anything to tell the world, or her family about.

His seemed to have guessed it long ago.

Hell, in their exile in the Pyrenees while she was bedridden Parvati had amused their children with tales of their years at Hogwarts. One person to figure in those tales were Ginny Weasley and the crush everybody claimed she had had on him.

Looking back Harry figured that it was probably a case of hero-worship that had passed after a while. She had been ten when they had met, he certainly didn't think anyone could have a long-lasting crush when they were that old. He hoped not.

What would he do when Aimée came dragging home with a boy?

He shuddered as he went into the pub behind an elderly couple. They didn't seem to have heard it, nor did anyone notice that the cloak lifted a couple of centimetres from the floor.

Ginny was in full business mode, All Hallow's Eve was one of the busiest time of year, so he put a note on the usual spot and went up the stairs to her flat to wait for her.

~*~*~*~*~*~