Harry Potter and The Sacred Alliance

Harry Potter and The Sacred Alliance

Chapter 11

The rain dripped on, giving the huge stone walls a distinct sheen, that made the vast castle light up with a majestic radiance with each flash of lightning in the reddish black sky. It was the greatest of all magical structures in wizarding Britain, unmatched in its ancient architecture, raw magic surging through each brick, each stone of its seven-storied framework. Towers and turrets reached up endlessly into space, the atmosphere electrified with a magical aura.

And yet its breath-taking image had little effect on the utterly shaken students walking in a single file towards the carriages - thestral-driven to a few, horseless to the rest. The presence of Aurors, stationed at key locations in Hogsmeade station, only succeeded in creating a sense of foreboding in the already tense atmosphere, as Hermione, Ron and Ginny joined the other prefects in maintaining order among the students - which, considering everyone's mental state, hardly required any effort.

The sound of the pelting rain, coupled with the distinct noise of shoe against the wet soil filled the air. A batch of the Hogwarts staff, lead by Madam Pomfrey, was administering first-aid to any injured students. Meanwhile, a familiar voice was beckoning the first years, albeit in a subdued tone, and a single look revealed sagging shoulders and an unusual lack of enthusiasm in the burly figure's actions. Although Hermione smiled at Hagrid, her heart was breaking.

When the rest of the students had settled themselves in the carriages, Hermione herself, accompanied by Ron and Ginny, climbed into one held for them by Luna and Neville, who had also been holding Crookshanks and Pigwidgeon's cage for them. Even as the carriages started moving, she had a strange subconscious sensation that something was wrong. Scrutinizing her surroundings, however, she could not find anything out of the usual - except for the subdued atmosphere and the absence of Harry.

"What was that... portal thing?" Neville broke into her thoughts.

"From what I read," Hermione replied, thankful for the distraction, "it's a magical tunnel that connects two points in space. Although portals are useful for transport of a large number of wizards at once, the Floo network and Portkeys are more generally used for traveling, due to the intricate magic required to set up a portal. Unlike apparition or Floo, portals can be used safely over extremely long distances. The last recorded creation of one was way back in the nineteenth century - leaving today of course - and that too using Dark Magic."

By the time she had finished, even Luna had looked up from her magazine.

"How do you know if it was a portal... It could simply have been sucking everything to nowhere... like I dunno, a black-hole, maybe?" asked Ron.

Ginny, Neville and Luna were now staring at him, a substantial part their astonishment based on the fact that he was actually conversing, though his mention of a Muggle concept - which was equivalent to a superstition for the wizarding mindset - surprised them too.

"Bla... black-holes exist?" Neville asked disbelievingly, quickly eyeing the darkness around their moving carriage, as if expecting a black-hole to pop out of thin air any moment to suck them in.

"Honestly!" Hermione exclaimed, "You should all take up Muggle Studies. According to Muggle science, black-holes do exist, but not here on Earth. They are believed to be formed by the collapse of a gigantic star, squashing the matter contained in the star to an infinitesimally small space, thus increasing their combined gravitational force to such an high extent that it doesn't even let any light - let alone matter - escape its pull. Scientists believe that whole galaxies are held together..."

"OK, OK!" Ginny cut her off, warily eyeing Ron's exasperated expression, "We get it... So it couldn't be a black-hole. But why was it pulling things in?"

As much as Hermione would have liked to quote some more from her summer reading, she could not deny the fact that Ginny did have a point. And not having an answer, she inwardly made up her mind to spend some extra time in the library.

"I still don't trust that Burke guy," stated Ron, looking determined to bring up the heated one-on-two argument he had been having in the train against Hermione and Ginny, both of whom chose to simply ignore his statement. The irritation that had gripped Hermione before they had alighted from the train, and had gradually receded away since then, was returning. Yet she was able to will her lips to keep tightly shut.

"Leave it alone, Ron," said Neville, who apparently had had enough of the argument. "He was acting a little strange, but anyone will if one of their parents is killed."

"Who knows?" Ron said shrugging dramatically, "He could be lying..."

"Just shut up, you... you stupid prat!" snapped Ginny, unable to restrain herself anymore. "You didn't think of that Reductor spell to save us all, did you?"

The carriage had halted, as had the others around them, with people hurrying off to the castle's entrance to avoid getting soaked in the rain. Even though Hermione noted this, she made no move to leave the carriage, since her temper had gotten the better of her, while her brain went into overload to think up a suitable rebuke for that distrustful bastard sitting before them.

"Yeah! My hero!" he drawled, then added with a scowl, "It looked almost as if he knew what that portal thing was. And don't be surprised when you find out that I am right." And before anyone could respond, he jumped off the carriage, and walked to the entrance without looking back.

A few moments later Luna followed, after sending a slightly amused shrug at the others, Pigwidgeon's cage dangling from her hands. Ginny was fuming. And though Hermione herself was quite annoyed with Ron's behavior, she still couldn't shake of the feeling that something was wrong.

* * *

The lake was anything but still, as the fleet of boats cut through its turbulent waters, the growing form of the castle looming over them. Being a 'newcomer', Harry was taking the perilous route - made so by the raging storm - through the lake, accompanied by the terrified first years, who were shivering in the cold.

He had been at Hogwarts this very morning, but now it seemed like a totally different place, buzzing with activity as students and teachers got ready for another year. And the attack on the train gave more than an inkling of what this upcoming would hold for the students of Hogwarts.

And being the great Harry Potter, even in a disguised form, meant that facing the risks of what seemed to be another turbulent year at Hogwarts was just the beginning of all his concerns. The year hadn't even begun officially, and he had already been twice on the verge of giving himself up. But it was hard to think straight when the people you care about most are in danger.

Not that he had done miserably in the following confrontation. Build your fabrications on parts of the truth... Simple facts are the basis of foolproof explanations, Snape - an undercover agent himself - had told him. And he had passed... barely.

The compartment was stuffy, as many of its occupants were perspiring, despite the cold. His fellow sixth year Gryffindors surrounded him, along with Ginny, who to his surprise was a fifth year prefect. Ever since he had boarded the train, he had been determinedly avoiding all of them - he needed to get adjusted to his new self before he could handle them. And thanks to the life-threatening incident that had occurred a few minutes ago, he had ended up with not one, but all of them, except Parvati and Lavender - and that too, cramped together in a single compartment.

"Er... Hi, I'm Kevin Burke," he said finally, to nobody in particular. Inwardly, he kicked himself. 'Ers' and 'Ums' weren't safe - they had been too common in Harry's usual speech.

Eyeing each of his companions, he carefully registered their responses. Ginny was looking at him with a blank expression, while Hermione flashed with a brief expectant smile that somehow seemed to be forced. Seamus and Dean had expressions of slight interest. Neville, who was sitting beside him, was sneaking curious glances at him - as if unsure of approaching him. Ron, meanwhile, was staring at him with barely concealed suspicion.

And he had every right to, Harry asserted, after his own foolish and uncalled for display of bravery. The above scrutiny was completed in a little more than a second. Reminding himself that he didn't know these people, he offered his hand to Ron.

"And you're..." he prompted, unsure of what to do. Being Harry Potter, he had never had any experience in taking the initiative in making new friends. People usually approached him at first sight.

When his offer was met with cold ignorance, he turned towards Neville, trying to shut out the feelings of guilt and hurt.

"Neville Longbottom," Neville answered, hesitatingly taking his hand. "We're from the Gryffindor house at Hogwarts."

"You're divided into houses?" He wasn't supposed to know anything about Hogwarts.

"Oh yes," Ginny spoke up, "We have four houses - Gryffindor, Ranvenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Where are you from?"

"I was at the IIM - that's the Irish Institute of Magic, but I'm getting transferred to Hogwarts this year - my sixth year, actually." Staring down at his hands, he once again went over all the details. And hoped that his thumping heart wouldn't give him away.

"You're from Ireland?" asked Seamus eagerly.

Uh-Oh. "Um... yeah, Dublin."

"Seamus Finnigan, from the northern provinces," he said, beaming and shaking his hand. "And this is Dean. We're sixth years too."

"Oh... and, I'm Ginny Weasley and a fifth year Gryffindor prefect. That's Ron - my brother, and this is Hermione Granger. They are sixth year prefects."

Harry exchanged smiles with Hermione and Ginny, while Ron simply nodded at him.

"Why are you transferring?" Hermione spoke up.

"Well, my Mum used to teach Counter-Necromancy at the IIM. But..." he paused, lowering his eyes to the floor. "Something happened." He had rehearsed this act several times in the past week, and he knew that he had the attention of all the occupants of the compartment.

Taking a dramatically deep breath, he clarified, in what he hoped was a wavering voice. "She died. So I came to my Dad's Muggle place in England." Think about Sirius, he told himself - and consequently, he didn't have to fake much of his grief.

Only the continuous splattering of the raindrops on the window could be heard for the next minute.

"Is Counter-Necromancy equivalent to DADA - er - I mean Defense Against the Dark Arts?" asked Hermione, in an attempt to change the subject.

"Yeah... It basically consists of spells, hexes and counter-jinxes to fight Dark magic."

"How did you know about the DA?" said Ron, suddenly.

"DA? You mean Dark Arts?" Harry questioned, feigning puzzlement.

"No," Hermione replied, "its a Defense club we have for students at Hogwarts."

"Non-members, and especially transfer students, aren't supposed to know about our badges," Ron added with a scrutinizing gaze.

"Oh, the ones with 'S.P.E.W.' on them? I discovered quite a few students lying stunned with those pinned to their uniform, and they were constantly cackling with voices. Figured that they must be some kind of gadget that you guys use for communication. Similar to Muggle walkie-talkies, you know? On picking one up, I heard Hermione here calling for help, so I responded."

"And you knew who she was?"

"Are you kidding? Of course I did. She's Hermione Granger - the OWL top-scorer in Europe," Harry retorted, making Hermione blush and scowl at the same time. Inwardly he marveled at his newly developed faculty for lying, though he did have a hard time keeping his hands from fidgeting.

The train was nearing Hogsmeade, and quite luckily for Harry, for he had no idea how much longer he could bear the suspicious glare Ron was giving him. Apparently, this could be much more difficult than he had expected. With the excuse of checking his non-existent trunk, he left the compartment.

* * *

The wind was cut off from the underground shore where the boats harbored themselves, allowing the people climbing out to readjust their cloaks around their shoulders. Lamp in hand, Hagrid led the way upwards through the shingles, the awe-struck first years clinging to each other for support as they gazed open-mouthed at the vast establishment, that would be their home for the next seven years of their lives.

Harry had once been one of them too, and even five eventful years later, nothing could subdue the wonder and pride that filled him as he followed the group to the castle entrance. Hagrid, who was not in his jolly self at all, knocked sharply on the oak doors.

A terribly enraged Professor McGonagall, flanked by Professor Sprout, opened the doors to the Entrance Hall, both of them dressed for the start-of-term banquet.

"Mr. Burke, will you please follow me?" asked McGonagall, though it sounded more like an order, and then headed in the direction of the ground-floor classrooms, while Sprout, the Herbology professor and head of Hufflepuff house, took up the task of leading the first years into an antechamber at a corner.

After what he had gone through in the train, Harry hardly expected anything worse from from the Gryffindor head-of-house, especially towards a 'transfer student', as he followed McGonagall with quick steps. But, as he passed through the corridor leading up to the courtyard, he could hear several voices emerging from a few classrooms on either side.

Usually students assembled directly in the Great Hall before the Feast - he could not remember the classrooms ever being used before the start of the term. Moreover, the voices hardly seemed to be those of children. Curiosity getting the better of him, he decided to risk a peek into one though the slightly ajar door, even as McGonagall walked before him unsuspectingly.

As he had guessed, there weren't any students there. Instead, he could spot a disgruntled form of Professor Flitwick, surrounded by groups of witches and wizards, who were all speaking at the same time - some in threatening tones. The short Professor was ineptly trying to calm the adults - who could only be parents of the pupils, anxious about their children. But he couldn't see anymore, since McGonagall had herself entered an unused classroom near the far end of the corridor.

However, what awaited him inside caused him to stop at the entrance for a few moments before slowly stepping in. The room small and dusty with a single boarded up window, and bright yellow lamps on the walls. A fireplace was located at a corner, that somehow seemed to be out of tune with the rest of the room, as if built recently. Behind the teacher's desk sat the unattractive figure of Snape, fixing him with a piercing glare - fiercer than usual. And for once, the look on Professor McGonagall's face easily matched Snape's in intensity.

"Come in, Potter," Snape said contemptuously, "if you are quite done with the display of your heroic abilities."

Too shocked to react at Snape's disclosure of his identity, he quickly eyed McGonagall.

"She knows. Though you must be disappointed that the rest of the school doesn't, after all your efforts in that direction."

"I..."

"You have no idea to what lengths we went to protect you, Potter," Snape spat, spelling his name with particular disdain. "And your irresponsible arrogance gave it all away."

It was then that he became aware of what he had done. Being a transfer student was suspicious enough, especially when inter-school transfers were highly uncommon in the wizarding world. In addition, he had successfully drawn all attention to himself with his performance against the Death Eaters, in front of the whole student body.

To top it all, another realization struck him. Why had the Death Eaters attacked the train? Why else, but to find him. And he had played right into their hands. Logic dictated that he had just given his identity away - and to Voldemort himself, no less.

With one dreading look at a fuming Professor McGonagall, he knew he was going to have it this time. Were they going to expel him?, he thought, his heart pounding abnormally. He could try to present his case.

"But there was no other way..."

"I cannot care less if your girlfriend's trapped..."

"Severus!" McGonagall interrupted. "Harry's actions, though careless, are nonetheless commendable. If the Death Eaters were indeed after the Muggle-born students..."

"Which they were not," Snape retorted.

"They were after me," said Harry morosely, bewildered that McGonagall had supported him, which he had been least expecting. But apparently her anger was not directed at him. Especially since she had called him Harry.

"Your thickness astonishes me beyond limits, Potter." Snape smirked, before continuing, "There wasn't a way the Dark Lord could have known about your existence before your uncalled for heroics."

Harry knew why not. The Fidelius charm. And he was astonished too - by Snape's ability to raise his temper a few notches just when he thought that it had reached its limit. Did he mean to say that the Death Eaters simply decided to take a stroll in the Hogwarts Express? And take a few coaches plus a bunch of Aurors as souvenirs with them?

"What do you mean... sir?" he said aloud.

"They came for me." This was a new voice, one which Harry instantly recognized as that of Remus Lupin. Scrutinizing the corner from where the voice came, he could make out an almost transparent outline of Lupin's profile.

"Prof... er - Remus?" He was on the verge of asking why, when three sharp knocks emerged from the door, which had locked itself on its own.

In a few moments, Professor McGonagall had opened the door to reveal a thoroughly annoyed Flitwick, the Charms professor.

"They aren't listening, Minerva! They're threatening to take their children back unless they meet the headmaster," he squeaked, his voice hardly audible over the racket the parents - who had now occupied the corridor - were creating outside.

McGonagall sighed before speaking, "Filius, you can go and join the others in the Great Hall. I'll handle the parents. And at no cost must you let the any of the parents enter the Hall."

Nodding, Flitwick whisked towards the Hall - which was itself resounding with deafening noise and chatter. For once, it seemed to Harry that the Hogwarts staff were unable to maintain discipline. And evidently, the prefects weren't helping.

Snape followed McGonagall out of the door, and Harry was about to do the same too, before Lupin's 'Disillusioned' hand placed itself on his shoulders.

"Your going out there will only create suspicion, Harry."

"Don't they know already?" he asked, fearing the worst.

Remus smiled slightly. "Snape was making most of it up. From our questioning - made effective by Snape's Legilimency powers, and a few memory charms - we've found that only a few DA members know of your... contribution. And none of them seem to suspect you except..."

"Ron," Harry finished, eyeing the floor. "I had a chat with them on our way here."

"As Kevin Burke, I hope?" At Harry's nod, he continued, "Even Ron suspects you only as a spy for the Dark side. So I gather the introductions went well."

"Well, you could say so... But when did you tell Professor McGonagall?"

"About twenty minutes earlier, and you should've seen the reaction on her face," Lupin said, chuckling. "For a moment, I thought she was more enraged at Dumbledore and Snape for hiding this from her, than at the Death Eaters. Though she need not have learnt about you if Dumbledore was present here."

Remembering the cause for Dumbledore's absence, Harry wondered aloud, "Er... Remus, who could our new DADA teacher be?"

"As far as I know, it hasn't been decided yet."

But Harry had a feeling that Lupin wasn't telling him everything. So he decided to press. "Who's the Ministry candidate?"

"None. After the way Umbridge ended up last year, no one wants to volunteer. But yes, there's a candidate - from our side."

"And..." he prompted, hoping against hope.

"I'd let you guess. Let's just say that he is in this room with you," Lupin said smiling. Then at Harry's apparent joy, he persisted, "But don't get your hopes up yet. Chances are that the Governors will scrape off the subject before..." Lupin never had a chance to finish, since a tall figure in white robes chose that moment to emerge from the fireplace, his trademark long white hair and beard shining in the yellow light.

Harry barely caught a nod exchanged between Dumbledore and Lupin, but his attention was soon grabbed by the commotion outside, which had reached a crescendo. With a flick of Dumbledore's wand, Harry was put under the Disillusionment Charm, before Dumbledore flung open the door with another flick.

A considerable part of the staff, and a few Aurors too, were engaged in calming the adults gathered in the corridor. They were more than fifty in number, and growing more and more restless by the second. But a sudden hush fell over the gathering at the sight of the headmaster, his twinkle-less eyes demanding absolute silence.

"I understand that you are here to question the serious lapse of security in the Hogwarts Express. Though I regret the incident, I assure you that none of the student body has been harmed. The Ministry has enforced special measures to prevent a repeat of such an incident. Hogwarts was and still is one of the safest places for your children to stay in, and we intend to keep it that way.

"I respect your concerns for your children's safety, but your presence here is only hampering our security arrangements. I shall contact each one of you individually as soon as possible, once the term has started. For now, though, I request you all to retire for the night after I make an important announcement. Yet I'm granting you a few minutes to clear any urgent doubts about our safety measures."

On cue, several voices erupted, before Dumbledore was able to convince them to speak in their turn.

"You, Dumbledore, and your staff, are responsible for my daughter's welfare," said a thin woman. "How is it that only Aurors came to the rescue of our children?"

Professor McGonagall chose to respond. "We - fourteen of us - are also responsible for the protection of the castle grounds. Moreover, we do not have magic detection equipment like the Law Enforcement Department does. And yet we managed to send a few of our staff members once the Ministry owled us - though the assailants had absconded by that time."

"None of us are satisfied with your dedication to your student's safety. I will make a point to report this incident to the governors!" a man with sharp features stated, making Professor McGonagall visibly tremble in anger.

"I regret to inform you, Mr. Parkinson," Dumbledore said in a cool voice, "that the Governing Council has been dissolved, giving autonomy to the Hogwarts staff until a new one is formed. And before you decide to contact your dear friend Mr. Malfoy, I'll also inform you that he has been debarred from all Ministry matters."

"How dare you raise false accusations, Dumbledore? Lucius is innocent!" It was a woman's voice, whose owner was out of Harry's sight.

"Though it would my pleasure to contradict your statement, Mrs. Malfoy," Dumbledore replied back, "your husband's debarment is not based on any crimes he has been accused of. Rather he is the victim of his own prejudice - also shared by the majority of our world." He paused for a few moments, as a puzzled audience - including Harry - looked on expectantly.

"It has just been revealed that Mr. Lucius Malfoy is a werewolf."

A stunned silence gripped the whole corridor, the chatter from the adjacent hall filling the corridor. Some people, Harry noticed, were fuming, while some others almost seemed happy to hear the news. The rest were genuinely shocked. And he could swear he heard a snort from the place where Lupin was standing.

"And, since it seems now that your doubts have been cleared," Dumbledore continued coolly, "I'd like to present to you all our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. Remus Lupin."

* * *

"Abbot, John!"

A blonde boy shakily stepped up to the frayed and filthy hat propped upon a four-legged stool placed in front of the High Table, as Harry surveyed the Hall from his position among the nervous first years. At first glance, everything seemed normal with the older students sitting at their tables - some of them eyeing the newcomers with curiosity, while the rest chatting among themselves, sharing their summer experiences.

And yet, on finer inspection, one could catch the gloom that lay beneath the levity. It showed, despite their efforts at concealing it. They couldn't hide their grief over the loved ones they had lost in the ongoing war - one which none dared to acknowledge. They couldn't hide their apprehensions... Whose life would be next on the line? They could not ignore the fact that they had just scraped free of the same fate that had befallen the scores of innocent people caught in battle at the Ministry a few weeks ago.

"Burke, Kevin!" McGonagall called out, jerking Harry from his thoughts. "Sixth year transfer student from the Irish Institute of Magic, Dublin."

He slowly walked over to the Sorting Hat, going over his house preference for any loopholes. Not that he expected to find one - not after the long discussion that he had had with Dumbledore, Snape and Lupin to reach his decision. Keeping his eyes off the student tables, he placed the hat lightly over his decently combed dark brown hair.

Immediately he could hear the hat speaking in his ears. "Ah... the Harry Potter! The Heir of Gryffindor, though Slytherin would fit you too... Come back, have you, for a second sorting?" it said mockingly. "Now wait a minute, you're masked... and you need to conceal your true identity..."

Put me back into Gryffindor.

"You can't be serious? That will surely give you away. Besides, don't they say? Keep your friends close but your enemies closer. Now Slytherin would be a good choice."

It won't work. Being in Slytherin will simply raise suspicions about my behavior. And the last house that anyone, who suspects my identity, will expect me to get sorted into is Gryffindor.

"Very well. If you're so determined, then there's no choice but... GRYFFINDOR!"

Letting out the breath that he had been holding all this while, he took off the hat and walked up to the Gryffindor table, amidst loud clapping and cheering for the first Gryffindor induction of the year. He sat down at a chair beside Neville at the far end of the table, not daring to look at either Ron or Hermione. The best lie is the one closest to the truth. Snape's words again. Let's hope it works, he told himself, his mind still dwelling on the Sorting Hat's words.

Neville struck up a conversation with him, narrating all his experiments-that-went-wrong involving different species of magical shrubs, a misfiring wand, and lots of nauseating pus. By the time Neville had finished a gory recount of his experiments with a certain gnome-eating Gnawdish, all the first years had been sorted.

"Welcome," Dumbledore said, standing up, "my dear students to another year at Hogwarts." His voice was grave, as he continued. "And today, considering the circumstances under which we start our new term, I shall ask for a mere two minutes of your time before we begin our banquet."

He waited for a few groans of disapproval before starting.

"As I see all of you young men and women sitting before me, impatiently waiting for me to finish this speech, there is one thought that strikes me. Even as we cheer and laugh in this gathering, I can sense the fear in our hearts - something that, being human, none of us can escape. Not me or any of your other professors. Nor any of you.

"Most of us are not even seventeen, and yet I can feel the fear that is ever-present in our minds - fear that we may never see our loved ones again. Fear that we may ourselves not live to see the world again. Indeed one of us has already left us forever." A moment's silence - guilt-filled for Harry - followed, only to be pierced by a particularly loud nose-blow by Hagrid.

"It is this fear that compels some of us to join the oppressors themselves; that makes some others among us to resign to futures that seem bleak. Fear that forces us to enjoy moments like this while they last - not knowing what developments tomorrow would bring."

His voice had almost reduced to a whisper, and yet it reached every corner of the Hall, making itself clear to each and every occupant of the Hall.

"And last but never the least," he continued, raising his voice, "it is also this very fear that unites us in times such as these. That inspires us to cherish our liberty... that propels us to stand up for it. That drives us to fight back... to refuse to be suppressed... to defend our freedom - as you all have done today.

"Underage witches and wizards against the most ruthless sorcerers the world may have ever seen, all odds stacked against you. But, despite all odds, what was the outcome?"

The whole Hall was gazing at Dumbledore now, who himself was looking back them expectantly.

"Tell me, my dear friends. What was the outcome?" he asked again, stressing that the question was not rhetorical. A second ticked by in silence, before a second-year boy, sitting at the end of the Gryffindor table facing Dumbledore, spoke up in a small voice.

"Ww-we won?" he stammered.

"Pardon me? Could you all speak a little louder?" Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling slightly.

"We won!" Most of the Gryffindor table had spoken this time, including Harry.

"I can't hear you yet!" Dumbledore chuckled, feigning puzzlement.

"WE WON!" Half the Hall.

"Not loud enough..."

"WE WON!" Gryffindor and Hufflepuff were now screaming at the top of their lungs, most of them standing up.

"Louder!"

"WE WON!!" The whole Hall had now erupted with a deafening chorus, echoing throughout the castle, as Harry had covered his ears to prevent any permanent damage.

"The school song!"

"WE WON!"

Laughter rang out through the tables, while a few sincere ones at the front, who had heard Dumbledore's words correctly, launched into the anthem... "Hogwarts, Hogwarts..."

Before long, the whole reinvigorated student body was singing the funny song - each one in his or her own favorite tune. Harry, not one with any knowledge of music to speak of, simply decided to follow the legendary Weasley tune that quite a few of the Gryffindors were singing in - lead by the two Weasley prefects.

People were singing and laughing all around him - genuinely this time. Even the Slytherins seemed buoyant, except for a few surrounding Malfoy of course. Malfoy, who had been uncannily well-behaved all this while, was glaring at the Gryffindor table, hatred stamped in his eyes. And it did not take much effort to find the object of his loathing - Hermione, who, having finished her song, was engaged in chatting with a seventh year.

As Harry looked on, Malfoy's glare turned into a smirk - an unhealthy look - which made a sudden bout of rage flare up in his chest. But a variety of delicious looking dishes chose that very moment to appear before them, grabbing both of their attentions. Dropping his temper, Harry plunged into the food, stealing occasional glances at his house-mates, especially Ron and Hermione, while Neville launched into a full-blown account of his experiences with a Merlin-knew-what plant, between his mouthfuls.

Eyeing the High Table, Harry could see the missing DADA position, knowing that it wouldn't stay that way for long. Dumbledore had earlier decided against disclosing the new professor's identity before classes started the next morning; it would only succeed in instilling more fear in some sections of the student body.

And Harry knew, as he felt the mirth-filled atmosphere around him - students sharing jokes... ghosts roaming about the Hall with amused expressions... teachers at the High Table engaged in light-hearted conversation... He knew now, why Hogwarts had been able to endure the centuries upon centuries of light and dark times, its foundations still strong after thousands of years - many of them in which the rest of the world had cowered in terror. Why Hogwarts had always been the source of hope... the Light in Dark times.

But would it endure the looming Darkness, that was slowly but surely drawing nearer to their world? One look at the rest of the Hall, and Harry got his answer. Chances were that it would.

Chances.