The Final Year

Chapter One

Whispers in the Dark

Gwenevere Alana Madison had already been at the school for about a week when the Hogwarts Express finally pulled into Hogsmeade Station and the horseless carriages brought the many students to the castle. She had flown on the Quidditch pitch, but it wasn't very much fun if there was no one to fly with. She had tried to talk one of the teachers into playing a game of chess or gobstones with her, but to no avail. The ghosts all seemed occupied with readying the castle and the portraits seemed to be readying themselves. Not even her great-uncle Albus was able to do anything to entertain or amuse her. He was too busy getting ready for the new school year. She probably knew every inch of the school and grounds better than anyone else at Hogwarts, purely because every year she spent at least a week at the school with only the teachers, ghosts, and portraits for company. And they weren't as good company as one might assume.

Gwenevere was bored out of her mind by the time the carriages finally arrived and so happy to see any of them that she wouldn't have cared if the first person she had seen would have been Camilyn or Hunter Prewett, she still would have thrown her arms around them in a big hug. But, as was her luck, the first person up the front stairs was not Camilyn, or Hunter, or even a Gryffindor, but none other than her good friend and house mate Tristan Rosier. Gwenevere grinned widely as she hurried across the main foyer and threw her arms around his neck. He picked her up and spun her around. Gwenevere just laughed and hugged him tightly.

"Good ol' Tristan Rosier..." she grinned at him, standing on her toes in order to kiss his cheek as he set her softly back on solid ground. She shook her head and her auburn hair settled itself back where it belonged.

"Gwenevere Madison, you really need to fix this living arrangement of yours. You miss way too much not being on that bloody train from London, love," Tristan grinned back. It was an odd sight to see him truly grin, and he did so for a total of four people. Most of the time he just smirked and scowled.

"Yes, I know. But I don't have anywhere else to go," she said logically, hooking her arm through his. "So, what important and life altering experiences did I miss out on this year?" Before Tristan could respond to her, another familiar voice answered.

"You missed a lost cat, a loose toad, a rather spiteful sister, too many really annoying first years, and quite a bloody good bit of useless melodrama..." Lucy Webster rolled her eyes as she finished climbing the stairs and met her friends' eyes evenly. Gwenevere laughed.

"Lucy, dear, will you ever have a single good thing to say about that train?" Gwenevere laughed as she hugged her friend tightly. Lucy just laughed at her.

"Well, Gwen, you know me. I won't be happy until the ride goes smoothly, or at least without those major annoyances. I can handle the duels and I can handle the curses, but I cannot handle those damn first years. Goddamn bloody devils," she mumbled and then broke into a grin as she saw her two best friends trying desperately to hold in their laughter. "Come on, you two jokers. Let's get into the hall. The quicker I have food, the better. I'm damn near starving, and you know how I get when I get hungry..."

"I pity any first year that holds up the sorting and keeps our little Lucy from eating," Tristan said over Lucy's head to Gwenevere and they both laughed as the three headed into the Great Hall, taking their seats at the head of the closest long table amongst many other returning students. The hall was full of laughter and jokes as people found friends they had missed on the train and the students all began to settle into what had quickly become a safe haven and a home for each of them.

The Great Hall was full of chatter and laughter until the doors behind them opened and all heads snapped that direction, the room falling silent quickly. Gwenevere had a fleeting thought of how odd it seemed, to be sitting in the Great Hall and there be no noise. For some reason, the start of the Sorting always seemed to have that effect on the students. No matter how many years she attended, the sorting always began the same way, with a silent and still Great Hall full of watchful eyes. A tall, stiff woman led a group of terrified young children through the doorway and up to where the Sorting Hat sat on a small stool.

"They look so little...." Gwenevere whispered almost silently to Tristan. "We weren't that small, were we?"

"According to Mum, we were..." Tristan shrugged. "I don't remember ever being that small. I just hope Aideen is with us..."

"That's right...I forgot she was being sorted this year." Gwenevere fell into a hush with the rest of the Hall as the small group of students huddled together before the stool and the hat, battered, torn, and looking half destroyed, raised itself off the stool, opened itself from a ripped seam, and began to sing.

"Many years before a single

one of you was born,

four great friends began the

school you now consider home.

They thought that they would bring

the world together, all as one -

uniting friend and foe until

the fighting all was done.

Bold Gryffindor, he taught the brave,

those with courage in their heart.

Fair Ravenclaw, she taught the clever,

intelligence set them apart.

Shrewd Slytherin, he taught those

with ambition, those well bred.

Sweet Hufflepuff, she thought them

rude and taught the rest instead.

The houses once were all united

and all considered one.

The families and friends were many,

the relationships were strong

but time and trials have hurt the bond

that once was this good school's pride.

Unless the students gathered now hold tight,

this school will have to hide

from darkness and forces beyond control

that try so hard to destroy

the only thing in this whole world

that continues to hold joy.

Try me on and I will sort you

into house and friend and home -

but remember, as I've told you,

that soon the time will come

when all you students must unite

and put aside old grudges.

Standing side by side you might

serve as each others crutches.

For though you like to think of here

as home and therefore safe,

there is evil in the world

that wishes to take it all away."

The students in the Hall clapped politely and the poor first years stared wide eyed at the hat that had just song such a gloomy song. Gwenevere had been told by students that had graduated years ago, when she was younger, that the song weren't always that dreary and gloomy. But in the years since she had come to Hogwarts, the songs had gotten more and more foreboding. Some of the new first year students looked downright terrified. Gwenevere glanced up at the Head Table where the teachers sat and caught her great-uncle's eye. He looked regal up in the middle of all the teachers, in his long purple robes and his half moon glasses perched on his nose above his silver beard. His eyes glinted at the sight of her and he gave her a wink and a nod of his head before he turned his attention back to the small stool, where every other pair of eyes in the Great Hall were currently focused. Gwenevere smiled and turned her attention as well.

Professor McGonagall, the tall, prim woman who had led that hoard of first year student into the Great Hall, unrolled a long parchment and began to call off names. "Abercorn, Emiline" was the first to step forward, trembling, to the stool and slip the hat nervously onto her head. The small, blonde witch was quickly sorted into Ravenclaw and the long table erupted into applause.

Lucy leaned over to Gwenevere and Tristan as "Adams, Robert" became a Hufflepuff. "Why do they have to make us wait through this damn ceremonial dragon dung every year before we get to eat? Merlin's beard I'm starving. I could eat a bloody hippogriff all on my own!" Gwenevere just shook her head and all three clapped politely as "Avery, Noyka" became the first new Slytherin of the year.

"Because with all the noise of us eating and talking, we would never be able to hear the sorting..." Gwenevere responded as quietly as possible.

"Who bloody cares about the sorting?" Lucy snarled, pushing her dark hair behind her ears. "I'm hungry!" She must have spoken a little loudly that last time, because Professor McGonagall and a couple of teachers at the Head Table, including Professor Lersant (the Potions teacher, and the Slytherin Head of House) cast rough glances to their end of the table.

"I care about the 'bloody sorting' this year, Lucy. Aideen's being sorted this year. And while Rhoswen may not exactly be one of us, I'll be damned if my baby sister is anything but one," Tristan whispered. "And keep it down," he hissed, turning his focus back to the slowly dwindling huddle of first years. He caught sight of his sister Aideen and smiled warmly at her. 'Don't worry, Aideen. You'll be fine,' he mouthed to her, and she smiled weakly in appreciation.

"Aideen looks terrified..." Gwenevere whispered.

"That's because she is," Tristan shot back just as "Rickert, Alana" was sorted into Gryffindor. The far table burst into cheers.

"Bloody prats," Lucy whispered and Tristan held his hand up. The people around him fell silent as "Rosier, Aideen" was called to the stool.

The girl, very small (even for her age) with blonde hair like her sister but her older brother's dark blue eyes, sat on the stool and bravely pulled the hat over her eyes. Gwenevere saw Rhoswen, Tristan's twin sister, across the hall at the Gryffindor table, paying as rapt attention as Gwenevere's own best friend beside her. The hat seemed to take a long time to decide and Aideen squirmed beneath it, obviously nervous, scared, or worried (or, most plausibly, all three).

After what seemed like a long time, but was probably no more than a minute, the hat finally opened at the ripped seam and let out a loud cry of "RAVENCLAW" to which the table broke out in applause and both Rhoswen and Tristan sank back on their benches. Tristan frowned again.

"Bloody stupid thinking hat. It can't even sort correctly. Why in Merlin's name would Aideen ever be sorted into Ravenclaw? She should be in here, with us," Tristan growled at the beat up cap as it sorted "Southern, Savannah" into Gryffindor.

"I'm sure it has a reason for its sorting. People were shocked when I was sorted into this house, but the hat was right then, wasn't it?" Gwenevere said quietly to him. He just glanced back at her, his bark eyes clouded. He was not happy.

"I guess. Still doesn't mean I have to like it," he hissed lowly. Gwenevere sighed. She knew better than to fight with him when he was in a mood like this. She just hoped she would be able to cheer him up later. She hated for him to go to bed angry. It always meant a sure foul mood in the morning. And she didn't want to have to deal with Tristan being in a foul mood on the first morning of classes.

The front end of the Slytherin house table was very quiet throughout the rest of the sorting. As soon as "Zoruman, Dulciendra" was sorted into Slytherin, Professor McGonagall snapped the list and it curled back up in her hand. She then picked up the stool and the Sorting Hat and disappeared through a side door, reappearing moments later.

Dumbledore stood in his spot at the middle of the Head Table and every student in the Great Hall hushed and turned their eyes toward them. "Welcome back," he said with a warm smile, continuing with his deep and steady voice that calmed and soothed even the terrified first years. "I just have a few announcements before we begin out feast. Quidditch try outs will be held next Friday evening for all the house teams. I would like to remind all students that the Forbidden Forest is still, and always will be, forbidden. Also, Mr. Filch would like to remind you of the object and items forbidden in the hallways - the full list will be posted in each House common room. Please review it. Now," Dumbledore smiled at them as he flicked his wrist and mounds of food appeared in the dishes before them, "eat and enjoy!" He sat down, catching his great-niece's eye and smiling warmly at her, before they each dug into their respective meals and the room was filled with chatter, laughter, and the clanking of dishes and silver.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*

After everyone had finished their meals and the last morsels of the wonderful desserts had been licked clean from the plates, the tables were cleared and the students were released to their common rooms. Tristan and Gwenevere, two of the Slytherin Prefects, led the group of first years down the stairs and into the dungeons, down a number of corridors and through a number of secret walls, hidden doors, and even a few trick stairways to a long hallway that had no windows and very few doors. They reached a large portrait and the first years and scuttled to a dead stop, staring up at a large knight, smiling down at them.

"Where are we?" one of the small boys, Gwenevere believed his name was Noyka, asked no one in particular, though Gwenevere overheard.

"We're under the lake, little one," she said warmly. His eyes grew wide and she just smiled at him. "Don't worry, we're perfectly safe." She remembered being just as terrified when she was informed the common room was actually beneath the lake, just beyond the large cliffs that jutted up and held the castle. Though she laughed to herself slightly, remembering what a trek it meant to reach the dormitories, which were just above the side of the cliffs.

"So," the portrait began, "this is our new crop, then? Do the house justice, lads and lasses. Make us proud..." it smiled warmly as Gwenevere gave the password ("Locantium Ignarian") and the portrait swung open, revealing the stark room, very reminiscent of an actual dungeon, though a bit more homey with large arm chairs and sofas as well as numerous fire places. Bright flames danced within each one, casting strange glows and odd shadows across the entire room.

"The boys' dormitory is through that door and up the stairs, the girls' through this door. You will find your belongings already in your room. This is our common room, and will be your home for the next seven years; the other students will be your family. If you have any questions or problems, you can come to us. Do not be afraid to ask questions. It is the only way you will ever learn," Tristan finished telling the small group of first years and headed to a large arm chair before a fire in the far corner, a scowl still covering his face and his dark eyes.

"Is he always that mad?" one of the little first year girls said to another as they cautiously made their way to another cluster of chairs.

"Oh yes, always. I would stay out of his way if I were you, dear. We wouldn't want to get on his bad side now, would we?" Lucy taunted menacingly and the two little girls hurried away from her. Lucy laughed as she joined Gwenevere and Tristan in front of the fire.

"Lucy, would you stop torturing the poor first years?" Gwenevere rolled her eyes as Lucy collapsed in the arm chair just opposite her.

"Oh, but Gwen, it's so much fun and they make it so easy," Lucy shrugged, tossing her hair behind her shoulder and accio-ing a book from a nearby shelf. She grinned and leaned back into the soft chair. "Is it great to be home or what?" Gwenevere shook her head and looked around the room.

Lucy was right. They were home - this was home. She had been thinking it the night before, when she hadn't been able to sleep. When she had come down to the common room and accidentally interrupted Trodly in his cleaning. She looked around, wondering if he was the one who had lit the fires and prepared the room for their return from the feast.

"Have either of you ever met any of the house elves that work here at Hogwarts? Like the ones that clean the common rooms or anything?" Gwenevere asked her two best friends. Other people swarmed around the room, a few calling "hello"s to them every so often or waving in their direction, but in general, the house knew that when Tristan had that look on his face, Lucy and Gwenevere were the only two who dared go near him.

"Never. Why would I want to meet one of those disgusting creatures?" Lucy shivered and shook her head. Tristan just shook his head curtly and kept his eyes focused on the flames in front of him.

"They aren't disgusting, Lucy. I met one last night. Trodly. He seemed really nice."

"Probably just trying to make you like him so he could steal something from you. I don't trust them at all," Lucy snarled again. Gwenevere shrugged and let the subject go. It wasn't worth fighting over right now. And besides, if Trodly had ever run into students like her two friends here in the Common Room before, no wonder he was so frightened when she'd run into him the night before.

"Stupid bloody hat. I ought to rip it to shreds," Tristan muttered, crossing his arms in front of him.

"Tristan, love..." Gwenevere leaned towards him, leveling her eyes on his glare. "It will be alright. So Aideen is not a Slytherin. She will be fine. Rhoswen's in Gryffindor and she is just fine."

"Yes, but Rhoswen is different. Rhoswen is not like me, Rhoswen is not like us," Tristan sighed.

"Yeah. Rhoswen's a sniveling Gryffindor prat," Lucy rolled her eyes and Gwenevere shot her a sharp glare. "What? She is."

"Aideen will be fine, Tristan. You can keep an eye on her from here and I promise that no one will let anything happen to her. Though I know you may not always like them, the other students in this school are not going to willingly let any other student get hurt and you know that." Gwenevere laid a hand on Tristan's shoulder and looked him straight in the eye. Tristan softened and he rewarded her with a very weak smile.

"I know..." he said softly."I know. I just want my little sister with me this year in case..." Tristan trailed off. "You know, in case she needs me." Gwenevere stared at her best friend, looking into his dark eyes.

"Tristan. Look at me," she said quietly and Tristan looked away, into the fire. Gwenevere took his chin and turned his head to hers. She stared into his eyes. They were different. She could not put her finger on it, but Gwenevere could tell there was something very different about him. There was something very wrong. "Tristan? What's wrong?"

"I'm just tired Gwenny. That's all. I should go ahead and go up to bed." Tristan forced a yawn and stretched unconvincingly. He stood up and kissed Gwenevere's forehead. "Good night, Lucy. Good night, Gwenna. Sleep well," he mumbled as he headed to the stairs and patted Gwenevere absently on the top of her head. She would have said something, made a joke of it, teased him about it if she thought he would have heard her as he wandered away. Instead Gwenevere looked to Lucy.

"Something's not right with him," she said quietly, looking from Lucy to where Tristan had just disappeared into the stairwell.

"When is anything ever right with him, Gwen? That boy is a mess. I adore him, but he's a mess. He is an exploding potion waiting to happen," Lucy rolled her eyes again and snapped her book shut. She stretched and stood up, dropping the book back on the chair before thinking twice and, with a flick of her wand, sending it back to the shelf she had gotten it from. "I think he might be right though. I think it might be time for me to go get some sleep. Don't stay up too late, you little worrywart. You will make yourself sick if you aren't careful," Lucy called over her shoulder as she started up the stairway to the dormitory they shared with Caitlyn, Leena, Bianca, and Audrey.

Gwenevere looked around the room and noticed that the groups that had gathered minutes before were slowly dwindling. The common room was clearing out and before long, only Gwenevere, a seventh year, and two third year students remained. Gwenevere sighed, she wasn't tired at all. She thought that maybe Lucy had the right idea, so the turned to the shelf.

"Accio book!" she called quietly to the book that lay on a nearby mantle. It flew into her hands and fell open to the last page she had read the night before. Gwenevere laughed, realizing it had been bookmarked, thought she didn't remember bookmarking it herself. She shook her head. Trodly must have done that for her, along with clearing her mug of Butterbeer and straightening that blanket he had given her. Gwenevere curled her legs up beneath her and began to read.

*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*

Gwenevere... Gwenevere... come to me, Gwenevere....

Gwenevere jolted awake and her eyes shot around the room. It was empty save for her and a small dwindling fire in front of her. "Hello?" she called out cautiously. "Is anyone there?" She set the book in the chair, pulling her wand from inside her robe and crept to the nearby stairwell. No one. No one in the other stairwell or in any of the chairs. She was completely alone in the room. And yet, she could have sworn....

'Gwenevere, you're imagining things you silly girl...' she thought to herself, sticking her wand back in her robes and going to get her book. 'You must have fallen asleep. You were just dreaming. That's it. You were just dreaming...' She started towards the stairs to her dormitory when it came again.

Gwenevere... come to me... won't you help me please?

That plaintive voice, so sad, calling her. It seemed to surround her, envelop her, but there was nothing there. There was no one in the room. And hearing voices was never a good thing.

"Are you there? Is anyone there? Show yourself..." she stuttered, stopping still in her tracks and listening.

Please....

The voice came again, father away this time. She still couldn't tell where it was coming from. "Hello? Who are you!?!" she called, starting to panic. Gwenevere backed towards the stairs to her dorm, misjudging her direction and hitting the stone wall instead.

Please come help me... please... please, Gwenevere, you're the only one that can help me....

The voice got louder and louder, closer and closer. Gwenevere shrank back against the wall and slid to her knees. She pulled her head down. "Go away...go away...I'm only dreaming..." she whispered to herself, tears starting to roll down her cheeks.

Suddenly there was a loud noise and a familiar voice called to her. "Gwenny! Gwenevere, are you alright?" someone was shaking her. Gwenevere jolted upright and looked around.

She was back in the chair, the book in her lap. She was sweating hard, but she was freezing cold and her hands were clammy. Tears streamed from her cheeks. "No...no...Let me go!" she cried, fighting the bonds that held her wrists. She was let loose and the person stepped back. She breathed deeply for a moment then looked up, her eyes finally sliding into focus on Tristan. He knelt beside the chair and pushed a fallen piece of hair out of her face.

"Gwenny, love...you were screaming and crying. Are you alright?" he said, genuinely worried about his best friend. She breathed deep a couple of time and then laughed nervously.

"Of...of course, Tristan. I just had a dream. You know me and nightmares," she laughed nervously again and tried to force a smile. Tristan's face was still full of concern. She stood up and kissed the top of his head. "I'm fine, Tristan. Thank you. I should probably go up to the dormitory now. It was probably just from sleeping in this bloody arm chair."

"Are you sure you are going to be alright?" Tristan stood beside her, looking worried, and felt her forehead. "You're freezing cold."

"I promise, Tristan. I am fine. I just need a good night of sleep. Go on to bed. I'll see you in the morning." Gwenevere kissed his cheek and headed towards her stairs, wiping her own cheeks hurriedly as she did. As she started up the stairway she turned back, only to see Tristan rooted to the floor, worried and anxious. He had obviously heard her in his dormitory, because he looked as if he'd just crawled out of bed, his dark hair messy, his eyes hooded with dreams. Gwenevere forced a smile. "I'll be fine, Tristan. I'll see you in the morning. Sleep well." She headed the rest of the way up the stairs, shaking her head.

'It was just a dream, Gwenevere,' she thought impatiently to herself. 'No use getting so worked up about a silly little bad dream.' She entered their room, the sixth year girls' dorm, and saw all of her friends sleeping soundly in their beds. She was as quiet as possible, so as not to wake them, as she slipped into her pajamas and crawled into bed with her cat. The little kitten curled up tightly beside her, purring loudly, and comforted her somewhat. Gwenevere was still shaken and she couldn't understand it. Why had a simple dream scared her so badly?