Year V

Chapter Fifteen

"Sortings"

Though it had been a couple hours since that drastic encounter with the American, Draco could still feel the grip of the other boy's hand tightening around his throat.

"Bloody hell...what are you?"

"What your father made me."

Draco shook the memory out of his head as he unconsciously rubbed his throat. He was sitting in the compartment reserved for the fifth year Slytherin Prefects replaying the event through his mind. It had happened so fast, he still couldn't believe how badly he had underestimated his enemy.

No, said a small voice in his head, you didn't underestimate him. You never even considered the possibility of getting into a fight with the Colonial. And your father did warn you to stay away from Potter and his friends, including the American Mudblood.

Reluctantly, Draco had to concede that point. His father warned him, he ignored the warning and paid for it. However, the humiliation was even worse because Hermione Granger, as she had done in Diagon Alley, had stepped in and pulled him out of trouble. He had no doubt that the McCade boy would have beaten him to a bloody pulp if the Mudblood hadn't ordered him to back off. His anger faded slightly as he felt tendrils of fear ripple up his spine when he remembered the look in the other boy's eyes. There was a hatred there...a burning hatred that hinted that the other boy wanted to more than just "hurt" him.

And once again, that miserable Mudblood intervenes on my behalf. Father will never let me hear the end of this.

The door to the compartment opened, interrupting his thoughts, and Pansy Parkinson entered. "Judging by the scowl on your face, I'm going to assume some of the stories I heard were true," she said as she sat down across from him.

He looked up at her. "What do you mean by 'some' of the stories?"

Pansy gave him a slight smirk. "Well, let's see. The Slytherin story is that you were ambushed by the...American." A look of disgust crossed her face when she said 'American'. "The other stories are much more amusing...a couple second-year Hufflepuffs say that you, Crabbe, and Goyle engaged the other boy in a a three-in-one duel and he beat you, but the 'puffs have always been prone to exaggerate things. The Ravenclaw version mentioned something about a weapon of some sort being used, but I don't think any of them actually saw what happened and much of it is just hearsay. The Gryffindor version tends to change, but they all say 'the rich brat got what he deserved'."

"And what do you think happened, Pansy?"

Pansy bit her lower lip for a moment before she spoke. It was clear that she wanted to say something, but was trying to think of a way to put it nicely. However, after another moment of hesitation, she shrugged. "I'm not going to sugar-coat it for you, Draco," she finally said. "I think that you went looking for Harry Potter like you do every year and ended up walking into this American's field of vision. You didn't plan for the possibility of being ambushed and were taken completely off-guard. Speaking of which...Crabbe and Goyle, how are they?"

"A seventh year managed to heal Crabbe's nose, but he's still a little dizzy," said Draco, still angry at what had happened. "Goyle will be fine, eventually, though his voice hasn't quite returned to normal and he's still limping."

"So," said Pansy, leaning back in her seat, "what really happened? And try not to embellish, I want the truth."

Draco wasn't quite sure why Pansy wanted to hear his version, but he told her anyway. As she listened to him, he saw her eyes narrow slightly, something she did when she was thinking about something. "Hold on," she said before he finished. "Did he really say that? Did he really say 'what your father made me'?"

"Yes," said Draco as he once again remembered the conversation he had with his father.

"Then I take back what I said...you didn't just walk into this American's field of vision. He knew who you were and he knew your father was...he was hunting you."

"Hunting me?"

"Think about it, Draco. Your father must have done something to him in the past, perhaps when..." Pansy deliberately cut herself off. She obviously didn't want to say "when your father was an active Death Eater", but Draco could read it in her eyes.

"That's a possibility, but if that's the case, most of the other students here would be coming after me."

"That may be true, Draco, but you're overlooking one fact."

"And what would that be?"

Pansy gave him another smile. "You're Draco Malfoy, son of Lucius Malfoy...they're afraid of what your father would do in retaliation." She held up her hand to forestall any objection from Draco. "Just hear me out. Let's face it, your father's past is no secret and many are afraid of what he could do to them if they crossed him. However, this American isn't bound by that fear. In fact, it sounds like he has a bitter hatred for your father and it carries over to you. Did your father say anything about this boy before the start of the school year?"

Draco shook his head. "Not really, he only mentioned the boy was from the colonies and he told me to keep my distance from him."

"And being the arrogant and headstrong git that you are," smirked Pansy, "you ignored your father's warning." She shook her head and laughed. "Draco, Draco, Draco...what am I going to do with you?"

Despite his anger at the day's events, Draco couldn't help smiling. For some reason, Pansy seemed to always say or do something that amused him in some way when he was feeling down or depressed. Too bad she wasn't at the mansion for the summer, he thought. It would have been nice to have her around after dealing with father's silent wrath.

However, his amusement faded as he remember Pansy's words: "he was hunting you".

Great, just what I needed...someone from Father's past shows up and has made me his personal target. Father, what in the name of Merlin did you to him?

* * * * * * * * *

He had been searching for six months…six months since he had learned that Simone was taken against her will. The man once called Lord Thomas cared only for one thing, to find his fifteen year old god-daughter and kill those responsible for taking her.

Six months of tracking, interrogating, and killing…he already had a reputation among the Guilds. They did not know his name, but knew him as the Dark Lord, and he had killed many as he tracked the girl down. He had finally located the Dupuis enclave where she was being held. There were no guards to stop him…the place was burning and he could sense that there were several dead inside.

He found her kneeling in a courtyard, surrounded by corpses, dressed only in a bloody night-gown, a blank look on her face and her hands clutching a bloodstained wand tightly as she mumbled softly to herself…

“Simone…”

The girl said nothing, even as he laid a hand on her shoulder.

“Simone, we must go.”

The girl didn't move, she continued to kneel there, mumbling, "Never again...never again..."

"Simone!" He shook her firmly by the shoulder.

The girl shook her head and slowly turned her head, blinking in confusion. It took her a couple moments to recognize him. "L-lord Thomas?"

"Yes, Simone, it's me. I've come to take you back."

"Back where?" she asked, slowly moving her head from side to side as if she were dazed or awaking from a dream.

He cursed silently as he recognized the effects of someone who had finally managed to break free after months under the Imperious curse. The Dupuis and their kind would pay for this, he decided. "I've come to take you home," he said.

Simone Saint Jean-Moreau shook her head. "I can't go back...it is not allowed..."

"Harry?"

The world suddenly vanished, only to be replaced by a darkness that was seen only from behind closed eyelids.

"Harry?"

Harry Potter woke up, his forehead prickling slightly as he realized that he had fallen asleep against the grimy window of their compartment. He opened his eyes to see Ron and the others looking at him. "What?"

"Are you all right? You were mumbling while you were sleeping, sounded like you were having some sort of nightmare."

Harry shook his head. "No...just a weird dream," said Harry, though he winced slightly as the slight prickling on his forehead flared up, causing him to rub his scar which reduced the pain back to a dull prickle.

Hermione and Ron exchanged concerned looks.

"I'm fine!" Harry said a little more forcefully than he would have liked.

"Well-er...it's time to change, we're almost there," said Hermione. She hesitated for a moment before she said anything else. "Are you sure you're okay? You just seem a little..."

"Off," Ron offered. "You seem a little off."

Harry was tempted to snap at them. No, he wasn't 'okay', not unless having strange dreams about graveyards and young women surrounded by dead bodies was considered 'okay'. However, the last thing he wanted was to tell them this, especially with the way the Daily Prophet was painting him as either a nutter or an attention starved teenager. "No, I'm fine," he lied.

Though Ron seemed to believe him, the look on Hermione's face told Harry that she didn't. She was about to say something else when the door to the compartment opened.

"Don't mind me," said Jesse McCade as he stepped inside and pulled his footlocker out from underneath a seat. His cat followed behind him then jumped up into Ginny's lap. "Just came here to change and get some stuff." After he pulled on his robes, Jesse paused to look at Neville.

Harry wasn't sure, but it looked like Jesse and Neville recognized each other.

"Sorry," said Jesse, "you look familiar. Have we met?"

Neville Longbottom shook his head. "No, I don't think-" his voice suddenly trailed off and his face went pale. "I know you! You were at-" Neville stopped in mid-sentence and shook his head again. "No...I was mistaken."

Harry looked back at Jesse and noticed that the American also seemed paler than usual before nodding back at Neville. "Yeah...mistaken identity," said Jesse. "It happens sometimes. Jesse McCade."

Neville hesitated as he shook the other boy's hand. "Neville Longbottom."

"Nice to meet you...Neville."

This time, Harry was certain Neville and Jesse knew eachother from somewhere, but now wasn't the time to bring that up. There was an awkward silence in the compartment for a few moments until it was broken by Jesse who looked over and saw Ron adjusting his Prefect badge and staring at his reflection in the window. "For crying out loud, Ron, it's not going anywhere."

"Shut up, McCade," snapped Ron, though Harry noticed his voice wasn't full of the usual hostility it held when dealing with the American. "Or I'll throw you in detention."

"And that bothers me because...?"

"Because I could have you doing lines all day if I want."

Jesse pretended to shudder. "Brrrr...lines. Really scary...at least it's not polishing suits of armor."

"Oh, I think I can make that possible too," said Ron with a chuckle.

"They don't dance, do they? The ones at my last school danced."

"They what!?!"

"They danced...I hated the one from Spain, it always tried to do the tango."

This got some laughter from everyone in the compartment. Ron shook his head. "No, no dancing armor, so you're safe."

"Still," said Hermione, "you shouldn't try getting into trouble on your first day."

The smile on Jesse's face faded somewhat and Harry thought he saw the boy's eyes glow for a moment. "Trust me, Granger, I have no intention of getting into trouble on my first day."

"That also means not picking fights with students...especially Malfoy."

Jesse looked straight at her. If looks could kill, Harry had no doubt Hermione would be dust by now. "If Draco Malfoy doesn't happen to wander in front of me, then you have my word that I won't pick a fight with him."

"I mean it, Jesse. Don't make me report you to-"

"Report me to who? The Faculty? You think I care? Besides, I've overheard you and the others talking these last couple weeks...you don't think too highly of Malfoy and his little band either. So why worry about what happens to him?"

"Because we can't risk-" started Hermione, but Jesse cut her off.

"Look, you can take the moral high-ground when dealing with people like that, but I won't...not when his kind have a lot to answer for." He reached over and took Joscoe from Ginny. "Personally, I think his entire family line should be wiped out."

"Then that makes you no better than him," snapped Hermione.

"Whatever," said Jesse. "Tell you what, Granger...next time the Malfoys feel like going Crucio on somebody for information, you can volunteer to be first, okay? Because I have no intention of going through a repeat performance."

Hermione opened her mouth to say something, but Jesse was already leaving the compartment and she changed her mind. However, it didn't hide the shock and anger on her face. Harry could see the American's comments triggered reactions from the others in the compartment. Neville flinched at the comment about being tortured and Luna Lovegood, who had thankfully been silent most of the time seemed curious at Jesse's remarks.

"There's a lot of pain in that one," said Luna. "Pain and hate."

:"What makes you say that?" asked Ginny.

"His eyes...you could see it when Malfoy's name was mentioned." Luna looked over at Hermione. "Nothing you do or say will stop him, you know?"

"I don't see what the big deal is," said Ron. "If the Yank wants to hurt Malfoy...who am I to stand in his way?"

"Because it's wrong," said Hermione. "We're better than that."

"But he's not us, Hermione," said Ron. "He's an outsider."

"So what he does doesn't matter to us?" Ginny sadly shook her head at her brother.

"No...er...yes," stammered Ron. "Wait, that's not what I meant."

Harry shook his head and laughed, causing Ron to glare at him. "Hey," he said defensively, "I'm not the Prefect here, you are. I'm just a bystander." He got up and left the compartment as Ron, Ginny, and Hermione got in a three-way argument while Neville simply leaned back in his seat and tended to his plant that he carried with him.

He found Jesse McCade leaning on against a window further down the car, talking to his cat who was sitting on the ground looking up at him.

"You know, Jos," Jesse was saying, "I'm thinking I should have taken the offer and not come here."

The cat hissed at him in response.

"Easy for you to say, you can come and go as you please...I'm stuck here." Harry pretended to cough and Jesse turned to look at him. "Oh, hey Harry. What brings you out here?"

Harry shrugged. "Not much...just had to get of there and stretch my legs. Sitting in those compartments can be murder."

"Yeah," said Jesse with a soft chuckle. "I see what you mean. Or did Granger send you out here to check up on me and keep me out of trouble?"

"Well, she didn't send me out here to check up on you," said Harry. "However, I was curious about some things."

"Like what?"

Harry hesitated for a moment...he wasn't quite sure how to ask this. "Lucius Malfoy tortured you, didn't he? It makes sense now...your arriving here, your hatred for the Malfoys, Mr. Weasely even let slip that you were tortured once. "

"And they said Hermione was the smart one," said Jesse. "You know...this is where I should say it's none of your business." Then he shrugged. "However, since you've got Voldemort trying to kill you, I guess that cuts you a little slack."

"True enough...wait a second...you said 'Voldemort'."

"Yeah, and your point being..."

"Everyone else I know is afraid to speak his name," said Harry. "Everyone except Dumbledore."

"Ah...yes, the infamous 'he-who-must-not-be-named/you-know-who' syndrome. I guess I'd be doing it too if I wasn't too busy with other things."

"Like what?"

"Trying to live," said Jesse as he looked out a nearby window into the darkness. "Tell me something Harry, you ever wish you could just disappear off the face of the planet and make the whole world forget you?"

Harry nodded. "All the time. Half the wizarding world sees me as this 'hero' and the other half thinks I'm a nutter."

"Trust me, Harry," laughed Jesse. "You're not a nutter, and I can say that from personal experience of actually having been one."

"Thanks...I think," said Harry. "One more thing...how do you know Neville Longbottom?"

Jesse's expression darkened a little. "Everyone's got their own demons, Harry. Let's just say that Longbottom and I are haunted by the same demons."

Harry was about to ask what Jesse meant by that, but the train began to slow. They both looked out the window and saw the lights of Hogsmeade station as the train made that final turn. Jesse sighed as he grabbed Joscoe and placed the calico back on his shoulder. "Well...I guess this is it...my prison for the next ten months."

"Oh come on, it's not that bad," said Harry. "You make it sound like you didn't have much of a choice."

* * * * * * * * *

"You had no right to make that decision, Dumbledore," said Dolores Umbridge. She stopped in front of the Headmaster's desk and leaned forward in what was supposed to be an intimidating manner. "The Minister is most upset that you not only carried out this decision, but kept it secret from him for the last two months."

"I did no such thing, Dolores." Albus Dumbledore leaned back in his chair as he looked across his desk at the woman. He folded his hands together and studied her for a moment...almost as if he were playing a quiet game of chess with a colleague instead of arguing over school policy. "As Headmaster of this school, I have the final authority over who I can allow in this school. Because Mr. McCade has such an unusual academic history, I felt that he should be allowed to finish his education here."

"An unusual academic history!?! Albus, the boy is a hooligan with a wand. The Colonials kicked him out of their school in America. Surely you can see that he's a danger," Umbridge said in a mock sweet voice that didn't fool anyone. "How his parents were able to get him into Marneons is beyond me." Umbridge did little to hide her disgust when she mentioned the small private academy in Liverpool. "Between Agatha Turane's inept handling of her school and your allowing this...this...American to come here...I will be making some very strong recommendations to the Minister."

Albus Dumbledore shrugged off the implied threat. "You are certainly entitled to your opinion, Dolores." He sent her a sudden piercing gaze, shivering her spine with the iron implicit. "But I am in charge of this school, and my decision stands."

Before Umbridge could come back with a retort, she heard some snickering off from the side. She turned to look at the other wizard in the Headmaster's office. "Is there something you wish to add, St. Croix?"

The other wizard, a man with short gray hair and wearing a heavy black cloak shook his head. "Nah, I 'ave nothin' to say. Though I mus' admit tha' I find yer antics amusin'."

Umbridge momentarily forgot about Dumbledore and focused her anger on this wizard. "And what exactly are you saying?"

St. Croix merely shook his head and smiled, though the malicious gleam in his eye carried no amusement. "Let's jus' say that I fin' yer commitment to trivial matters instead o' actual problems interestin'."

"Seeing as how you have no jurisdiction here, Bradford, your opinion means little to me."

"Suit yerself," said Bradford St. Croix. "If yeh wish to ignore wha's happenin', that's yer problem. I just 'ope the people don' suffer from the Ministry's incompetence fer too long."

"Incompetence!?!" snapped Umbridge. "How dare-"

"That's enough," said Dumbledore, his quiet voice cutting the tension in the room like a knife. "We are not here to discuss political differences. The topic at hand is Jesse McCade. Both of you believe he shouldn't be here. Bradford, I can understand and respect your concern, but you know as well as I that sending young McCade to you in Newfoundland would mean a death sentence for him."

"You don't honestly believe that, do you?" asked Umbridge. "Jesse McCade is the grandson of Jonothan McCade, the Colonial Minister of Magic. Forget sending him to Canada, I say send him back to America where he belongs."

St. Croix shot her a dangerous look. "Wow, yeh really are tha' daft. Why no' send some Dementors after him instead...he migh' stand a better chance then."

"That was uncalled for!" Though Umbridge kept her tone even, her eyes widened slightly in rage. "To even consider such an action would-"

"Would be a drastic measure, but for some reason, I think yeh might be desperate enough to consider it," finished St. Croix. "Surprised yeh haven't called them in to deal wit' th' werewolves."

"They're a threat to our society!" snapped Umbridge. "They're not even human!"

St. Coix smiled at her. "Careful, Dolores...yeh wouldn't want to be setting a bad example in front of the Headmaster. He migh' get the ides tha' Ministry officials are unstable."

Umbridge's face reddened and her eyes started to bulge in anger. "You have no right to talk to me in that way," she began.

"And he will refrain from making such comments," finished Dumbledore. "Is that understood, Bradford?" The other wizard shrugged what Dumbledore assumed was some sort of acknowledgment. "Now, back to young McCade," he continued. "I have allowed him to finish his education here at Hogwarts and you, Dolores, will find that I had violated no laws."

Umbridge opened her mouth to say something, but Dumbledore forestalled any comment with a wave of his hand. "However," he said, "you are free to voice whatever concerns you may have to the Minister. I am certain that he would appreciate being kept informed of the current situation here."

The witch gave Dumbledore a gracious smile, but he didn't miss the evil gleam in her eyes as she spoke. "Of course, Headmaster, you can count on it." Then she turned and left the office, oblivious to some of the moving portraits whose occupants were making rude hand gestures behind her back as she walked by.

St. Croix waited until he was certain she was gone before he spoke again. "That one will be causin' yeh a lot o' trouble, Albus."

"Of that, Bradford, I have no doubt," said Dumbledore. "However, I can't just 'force' her out of Hogwarts because that will give Cornelius Fudge even more reason to interfere with how I run this school. I must admit, it was a bit of shrewd maneuvering on his part."

"Ach, shrewdness 'ad nothin' to do wit' it," said St. Croix. "Awfully convenient, it was, that Umbridge's anti-werewolf legislation bit was passed jus' before Lupin was scheduled t' return here."

"Yes, it was unfortunate."

"Did yeh extend my offer to him?"

"I did, but he declined. Besides I have use for him here."

"Ah, he be workin' fer yer Order, then." St. Croix shook his head. "I have to hand it to Remus...he's either incredibly brave or incredibly daft fer riskin' his life like that. As fer young McCade, I still think yer daft fer bringing him here. I can understand yer reasons, but ye'r jus' bringin' more trouble upon yer self."

"Perhaps, and I do appreciate your concern."

"Do yeh, Albus? Granted, things're probably no' much better back home, but if the Colonial Minister finds out what yer doin'..."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take, Bradford," said Dumbledore as he got up out of his chair and walked to a nearby window. "Jesse McCade presents us with a rare opportunity...a chance to bring down one of Voldemort's key supporters."

St. Croix shook his head and frowned. "It's still risky, Albus. Using the boy against Lucius Malfoy is one thing, but I be more concerned fer the boy's mental stability."

"Ah, I see, you have concerns about his unique background then."

"The boy's half-Guilder, Albus," said St. Croix. "We canna' change that. The memory blocks we put on him ten years ago...I'm not so sure they'll hold."

Dumbledore looked out the window, a thoughtful look on his face as he watched the lights of the train approaching Hogsmeade station. "The boy's memories were practically wiped clean...all save for what we chose to let remain. A year and a half went into rebuilding his mind...are you saying that all that work was for nothing?"

St. Croix shook his head. "No, Albus, we all did what we could and I'm not questionin' yer judgement. I'm sayin' that the block we put on his Elemental magic..." He let his voice trail off because he knew Dumbledore could already see where this conversation was going.

"If that happens, Bradford, we will do what is necessary. Severus was kind enough to procure some Basilisk venom."

The other man nodded solemnly. "This be a tricky game yer playin' Albus...too many unstable factors at work here. I jest hope it doesn' come down to killin' the boy."

"As do I, Bradford, as do I." Albus Dumbledore glanced back at St. Coix. "How bad are things overseas?"

"The usual," replied St. Croix with a shrug. "Tensions're at an all-time high. The Colonials heard about the attack on Diagon Alley and fear the Guilds are preparin' to side with the Voldemort, the Mages Guild is accusin' the Colonial Ruling Council of usin' them as a scapegoat, and the Colonials are askin' us to sever diplomatic relations with the Guild enclave in Quebec." A grim smiled formed on his lips. "I was even personally addressed by the Colonial Minister himself to expel all Guilder children from my school. He also wasn' too keen about several Colonial families sendin' their children to my school where they risk bein' 'corrupted by Guild influences'. It's a bunch of dung...the families know somethin' bad is happenin' and they want their children safe. I even heard that Arcadia in Whistler is takin' in 'refugee students'."

"And what did you tell the Colonial Minister?"

"I told him where he could stick his wand and to spin on it. Three days later, I was informed that new legislation was introduced that barred Colonials from sendin' their children to Canada fer their education." St. Croix pulled a pipe out of his cloak, lit it and took a puff off it before he continued. "He's sealin' off the border, Albus."

"Not unexpected," said Dumbledore as he returned his attention to the window and the activity at Hogsmeade. "It would seem that Jonothan McCade believes that Voldemort has returned."

"I doubt he seriously believes that, Albus. He's jest usin' the peoples' fear to build up his powerbase." St. Croix took another puff off his pipe before he spoke again. "But that's not what's botherin' me. I know that Voldemort is a very real threat, but there's somethin' else goin' on here. The attacks on Diagon Alley weren' even a day old and the Colonial government already had some new anti-Guild legislation prepared and ratified only days after it happened? I don' know...it all went too smoothly. It usually takes a week or two o' bickering before they even manage to hammer somethin' out and agree on it."

"Is there something you're not telling me, Bradford?"

St. Croix shook his head. "You know me, Albus, I don' like actin' on information withou' proof, but I've been hearin' some rumors from the Guilder community back home...stories about feuds and power-shiftin'. Roland Dupuis, the head of the Mage Guild, has been deliberately antagonizin' the Colonial Ministry...almost as if he's goading them into taking action against him. If it weren' for Benajamin DeBoer...we'd be lookin' at a possible war over there."

"DeBoer? I was under the impression he didn't sit on the Colonial Council."

"No, but as an Enclave leader, he's well respected by the Colonials and the Guilders alike. He mediated a peaceful settlement fourteen years ago, and he's doin' his best to negotiate between Patriarch Dupuis and Minister McCade."

"And why do I sense a little distrust in your voice, Bradford?"

"I dunno', Albus...it just seems too...too orchestrated...and yet I have nothin' but theories and constant rumours." He extinguished his pipe and placed it back into his cloak. "Maybe I'm gettin' paranoid in my old age, but this doesn' feel right. I know yer all worried abou' Voldemort, and rightfully so, but this has been brewin' for the last few years before he even resurfaced."

"I see," said Dumbledore. "You believe other forces may be at work here."

"I know it sounds crazy, Albus, but yes...I'm certain something someone else is out there...watchin' and waitin'."

"Crazy is a term that I've become very acquainted with in the last couple months, Bradford," chuckled Dumbledore. "If you believe the Daily Prophet, I should be locked up at St. Mungo's." The smile faded slightly and his expression became more grim. "However, I know that you are just as sane as I am. If you sense danger, I believe you. However, Voldemort and his followers pose an immediate threat here that must be dealt with."

St. Croix nodded. "I understand, I jest hope it doesn' blow up in our faces. Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta' get back to Burgeo." He grabbed a small paperweight off Dumbledore's desk which began to glow a light golden color. "Yeh know where to find me if yeh need me."

Dumbledore watched as his friend and colleague disappeared in a shimmer of golden light. "Good luck, my friend," he said to the now empty room. He watched as the carriages made their way to the station to pick up the arriving students and sighed softly. Though the news from St. Croix worried him, he was not too surprised at the turn of events. During Voldemort's first reign of terror, the Colonials were spared the Dark Wizard's wrath, but that did not prevent those with political aspirations from using the events in Europe to influence policy back home. Jonothan McCade, then head of the Colonial Department of Law Enforcement, had all but sealed off the borders...he had even gone so far to shut down most Floo hubs meant for international travel.

At first, members of the Colonial Council balked at Jonothan McCade's action and were about to dismiss him from office...then the Guild connection to Voldemort was revealed, justifying McCade's paranoia. Though the renegade clan was dealt with, the Guilds were seen as a possible threat since one of their clans had been allied with the Dark Lord. Jonothan McCade's popularity eventually got him elected as Colonial Minister. While he did lift some of his bans on international travel, he still kept a cold hostility towards the Guilds. Were it not for Benjamin DeBoer, an Enclave leader who apparently forged a treaty with the Guilds, Dumbledore was certain that America would be in the middle of a wizarding war of its own.

Bradford is right, thought Dumbledore, the sudden shift of Colonial policy back to a hardline stance and the Guild Patriach's attempt to goad them into attacking...the timing is too coincidental. And then this Benjamin DeBoer resurfaces to smooth things over...

Albus shook his head again and looked at his reflection in the window. "Ah, Albus," he said to himself, "you're becoming paranoid in your old age." He allowed himself a small chuckle and turned to leave his office. There would be another time to worry and make plans. But right now...it was time to head down and greet the students and at least try to create an atmosphere of normalcy at the school.

Then again, this was Hogwarts, nothing was ever normal.

* * * * * * * * *

This sucks, Jesse thought to himself as he followed a group of kids who were at least four years younger into the large dining hall. It was bad enough that some giant had grabbed him just seconds after he got off the train and told him that he was supposed to accompany him, along with the first-year students, in the boats. While the boat trip itself wasn't bad, Jesse didn't like the stares he got from the other kids and he could hear some of them whispering about him.

"Don' you be worryin' too much about this," the giant, whose name was Hagrid, had told him. "This is jus' a formality. While yeh may be a fifth year, this is sort of a tradition."

Some tradition, Jesse groaned inwardly, I just wish they'd get it over with.

Jesse had already been told what to expect when he got here...this was what was described as a "sorting ceremony". He knew that it involved a magical hat that sorted students into houses, but he had a hard time keeping a straight face when the sorting-hat had burst into song.

Oh my god, it IS a muppet...can this get any weirder?

Because he was older than the others, Jesse was told that he would be sorted last, which made him more uncomfortable because he could see the rest of the student body sitting at their tables staring at him. He could see the Sytherin house table and noticed Draco Malfoy whispering to a girl with short dark hair. While Malfoy had a sneer on his face, Jesse took some satisfaction in seeing there was still some fear in the other boy's eyes.

That's right, Malfoy, you may be brave with your friends around, but they won't help you...I already proved that.

The girl, who according to the badge on her cloak was also a prefect for Slytherin house, simply stared at Jesse...almost as if she were studying him.

Hmmm...this one might be dangerous, Jesse thought. Unlike the two gorillas Malfoy has hanging with him, this one has a brain...I'll definitely have to be careful when she's around.

For about the next fifteen minutes, Jesse stood there and watched as the other students in line got sorted into houses...Slytherin...Gryffindor...Hufflepuff...Ravenclaw...there was a cheer from the corresponding table each time their house was called. He turned his attention to the High Table in front of him where the faculty sat and noticed that there were two people watching him...one was a man with greasy looking hair and the other appeared to be some old hag in an oversized cardigan sweater. He wasn't sure why, but he didn't like the looks he was getting from either of those two people.

Great...two of the faculty already hate me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, the Yank trash is here, let's all gawk at him and find ways to make him more unwelcome and unwanted.

"Jesse McCade."

Hearing his name called snapped Jesse out of his thoughts and, after a moment's hesitation, he stepped forward. He glanced over at the Gryffindor table and got a couple reassuring nods from the Weasley twins. He nodded back at them and smiled as he sat down and the hat was placed on his head.

That's when he heard a voice buzzing in his ear.

Ah, what's this? An outsider at Hogwarts?

Yeah, yeah...the Yank bastard is here...can we please stop dwelling on that?

Hmm...a little hostile today, aren't we, Mr. McCade? Unlike the others, I know that you are not what you claim to be.

What's that supposed to mean?

Secrets, Jesse McCade...you harbor too many secrets...secrets that even you aren't aware of...

Whoa...hold on...what are you talking about?

You do not know? They have been deliberately locked away...curious indeed. But alas, that is not why we are here...so where should I put you?

Uh-uh, you're not dodging me that easily...what do you mean? What secrets?

Hmmm...you have plenty of knowledge...Ravenclaw perhaps?

You're not going to answer my questions, are you?

And very perceptive too!

Great...I'm dealing with a sarcastic Muppet.

Now, now...no need to be insulting...hmmm...no, not Ravenclaw. While you have the knowledge, you would not fit in...perhaps Slytherin?

Hey...no problem...that would make my life much easier.

I don't think so. You only wish to be in Slytherin so you can strike out at Malfoy?

And what's wrong with that? He deserves whatever happens to him.

Revenge is not a good enough reason to be in Slytherin.

Fine...look, you obviously made a decision about me...so let's just sort me into Gryffindor and get this over with.

HA! And place you in the same House as the Weasley twins? The school would be rubble within a week...better to keep you seperated. And while brave you may be, your loyalty to your friends is much stronger.

Fine...Gryffindor then...

"HUFFLEPUFF!" shouted the hat.

HUFFLEPUFF!?!

Jesse was still in shock when the hat was removed from his head. He looked back over at the Gryffindor table and saw the Weasley twins were equally mystified. When he approached the Hufflepuff table, he could also see the looks of disbelief on their faces as well. The only person who didn't seem surprised was the boy named Zacharias.

"Okay Justin, pay up," said Zacharias to one of the other boys who handed him a couple silver coins.

"You bet on me being sorted into your house?" asked Jesse.

"No, not really," replied Zacharias. "I bet you weren't going to be placed in Gryffindor. To be honest, I thought you were going to be placed in Ravenclaw."

Jesse was about to say something in response, but stopped as he noticed Headmaster Dubmbledore rose up from behind the High Table.

"To our newcomers," said Dumbledore in a ringing voice, his arms stretched wide and a beaming smile on his lips, "welcome! To our old hands -- welcome back! There is a time for speech making but this is not it. Tuck in!"

There was an appreciative laugh and an outbreak of applause as Dumbledore sat down neatly and threw his long beard over his shoulder so as to keep it out of the way of his plate -- for food had appeared out of nowhere so that the five long tables in the Great Hall were groaning under joints and pies and dishes of vegetables, bread, sauces, and flagons of pumpkin juice.

About an hour later, the students had finished their meal and Dumbledore got up to his feet once again. The hall fell silent as everyone turned to look at the headmaster. Jesse couldn't help smiling at the situation. Well...gotta' give the old man credit, he certainly knows how to control the crowd.

"Well, now that we are all digesting another magnificent feast, I beg a few moments of your attention for the usual start-of-term notices," said Dumbledore. First years ought to know that the forest in the grounds is out of bounds to students – and a few of our older students ought to know by now too."

Jesse followed Dumbldore's gaze and saw Harry, Ron, and Hermione smirking to eachother. Okay...that looks like there's a story there.

"Mr. Filch," continued Dumbledore, "the caretaker, has asked me, for what he tells me is the four hundred and sixty-second time, to remind you all that magic is not permitted in corridors between classes, nor are a number of other things, all of which can be checked on the extensive list now fastened to Mr. Filch's office door."

Jesse glanced over that the Gryffindor table and saw Fred and George Weasley whispering to each other. One of them looked over at Jesse and winked. Now why do I think your stuff makes up most of that list? He nodded back at them and returned his attention back to Dumbledore.

"We have had a change in staffing this year. We are very pleased to introduce Professor Umbridge, our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was a round of polite applause, but Jesse got the feeling that it seemed almost forced. If Dumbldore had noticed this reaction, he showed no sign as he continued to speak. "Tryouts for the House Quidditch teams will take place on the-"

"Hem, hem."

Dumbledore turned and looked inquiringly at Professor Umbridge who had stood up out of her chair, apparently ready to make a speech. Jesse saw Dumbledore hesitate only an instant before he casually sat back in his chair as if he had nothing else to do and let Umbridge speak. From the other teacher's reactions, Jesse could tell something was wrong.

Uh-oh...something's not right here. This must be the person Mr. Weasley warned me about.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Professor Umbridge simpered, "for those kind words of welcome."

From the way she moved and talked, Jesse could tell that the woman's words were anything but polite or friendly. Her high-pitched, little girlish voice and that annoying patronizing smile already told him everything he needed to know about her.

Satisfied that she had the room's attention, Umbridge gave another throat clearing cough ("Hem, hem") and continued: "Well, it is lovely to be back at Hogwarts, I must say!" She smiled, revealing very pointed teeth that made Jesse think of a pirhana fish with bulging eyes. "And to see such happy little faces looking back at me!"

Jesse bit his tongue...he didn't like being talked down to, especially not by some hag in an ugly sweater who looked like she should be devouring chum in a fish tank instead of talking to the student body.

"I'm looking forward to getting to know you all, and I'm sure we'll be very good friends."

Students exchanged looks at this; some of them were bare concealing grins. Jesse rolled his eyes.

Oh, please...if there is a God out there...spare us from this before I start banging my head on the table.

Professor Umbridge cleared her throat again ("Hem, hem"), but when she continued, the breathiness in her voice had vanished and she sounded more business-like.

"The Ministry of Magic has always considered the education of young witches and wizards to be-"

She was suddenly cut off as the doors to the Great Hall were violently thrown open and three wizards entered the room. Jesse turned and saw that one of them was Arthur Weasley who looked like he had been in the middle of a violent fight. The other two wizards also looked like they had been in a fight as well, their cloaks torn and their clothes bloodstained.

Before Umbridge could make that annoying "Hem, hem" noise, Arthur Weasley spoke first. "The Ministry," he managed to say before pausing to collect his breath.

"The Ministry has been attacked."