Turning to face the new professor, Harry wriggled his arm free and started to object.
But Arnaud Finnister was studying the lightning bolt scar upon Harry’s forehead.
“I haven’t seen you around here,” began the young man. “Are you new?”
“No,” said Harry.
Finnister squinted again at Harry’s forehead, examining it closely.
“Could it really be… Harry Potter?”
Harry nodded.
His face breaking into a wide smile, Finnister took Harry’s hand and shook it enthusiastically.
“So nice to meet you!” he gushed.
“Er… you too,” Harry replied.
Then they heard the clicking of very uncomfortable shoes. Professor McGonagall was approaching.
“Professor Finnister, a moment please,” she said.
“Most certainly, Headmistress,” replied Finnister, who released Harry and looked at her attentively.
Harry wiped his hand on his jeans. The man’s grip had been firm and clammy.
“With these three,” she clarified, gesturing towards Harry, Ron, and Hermione.
“Oh, yes, of course!” said the professor. He turned on his heel and hastened back along the corridor, calling again behind him, “So nice to meet you, Harry Potter!”
McGonagall was observing them suspiciously. She seemed to have gotten her wits about her, after the surprise of finding trespassers in her office, and was now debating what to do with the guilty party.
“What are you doing here, Potter?” she said, after a few moments.
“Thought I’d come back to school,” Harry lied.
“I mean,” she continued. “How did you get here? I was not told that you’d be returning.”
Then her eyes fell on the medallion around Harry’s neck. She reached out for it and he took an instinctive step backwards.
“That explains it. Give it to me, please.”
Harry shook his head. “It’s not mine.”
McGonagall narrowed her eyes. “Luci Keegan gave that to you, didn’t she?”
Ron and Hermione gaped at Harry, who said nothing.
“Accio Professor’s Pass,” said McGonagall, and Harry felt the chain break against the nape of his neck as the medallion floated away from him towards the Headmistress. He clenched his jaw in anger.
McGonagall pocketed the Pass and cleared her throat. “In the future, I would appreciate it if you could abstain from entering my office without permission. Good day.”
Before Harry could argue, she had gone on her way.
He looked at Ron, and then Hermione, who said, “I didn’t even think to ask you how you’d gotten into the castle! What else haven’t you told us?”
Without a word, Harry walked away from the pair of them, back towards the Gryffindor common room.
Hermione was instantly at his side again, and he could hear Ron’s footsteps following.
“Why d’ya think she was so easy on us?” asked Ron musingly.
“You’ve never kept secrets from us before, Harry,” said Hermione, ignoring Ron, and sounding very disappointed in Harry.
“You’ve never kept secrets from me either, but things change, apparently,” he replied, refusing to look at her.
“Yes, but that was for your own good.”
“Right.” Harry picked up his pace.
“Do you really feel like you can trust Luci?” Hermione asked gently.
Harry stopped abruptly and Ron almost barreled into him. He glared at Hermione.
“I don’t know, OK? But she’s helped me and she’s kept things to herself. And that’s the end of it.”
Then he started off again, and the three of them traveled the remaining distance in silence.
After the morning’s onerous events, Hermione had gone up to her dormitory in a terrible distress, muttering about resurrecting S.P.E.W. right away. The common room was empty and Harry and Ron were sitting quietly by the fire, neither looking at the other.
Eventually, Ron broke the silence. “The team has been good this year. Ginny’s doing a great job as Seeker.”
Harry nodded distractedly. His thoughts were bouncing back and forth between Luci and the tasks ahead of him and the image of Ron and Hermione kissing in a dark corner.
After a few more minutes, Ron began again, “Hagrid told us where your parents are buried.”
This got Harry’s attention. “I almost forgot! Where did he say?”
“Near your grandparents,” Ron replied.
“Which set?”
“Oh, the Muggle ones.”
“And where is that?” he asked Ron, who shrugged.
“Dunno. Forgot to ask that, actually. Figured you’d know.”
“We should go down and see Hagrid anyway,” said Harry, rising. “Let’s find out.”
Ron glanced at the stairs leading to the girls’ dormitories as he, too, got to his feet.
“Let her rest,” Harry suggested. “Come on.”
They strolled leisurely down to Hagrid’s hut. The grounds were empty, as most of the students were in class. The October air was chilly, but fresh and clean, and Harry breathed deeply as they walked. He had missed the scent of this grass, these trees, the aroma of home.
“So who made the first move?”
“Sorry?” asked Ron.
“With you and Hermione.”
Ron blushed. “Who do you think? She did, of course. I’d never! She’s out of my league.”
Grinning, Harry asked, “When?”
“At the Burrow, before we came to Sirius’s place. I’d been teasing her about spending her holiday studying for the N.E.W.T.s and she said, ‘We’re too old for this, Ronald,’ and planted one on me. What could I do?”
Ron’s imitation of Hermione had been spot on. Harry laughed.
Though he still felt somehow excluded, and this bothered him, Harry was happy for his best friends. It had been a long time coming.
Their knock on the hut’s door was answered promptly. At the sight of Harry, Hagrid grinned broadly, his eyes shining beneath the dark, tangled masses of hair and beard.
“C’min, c’min,” he said cheerily.
Harry and Ron entered and, at Hagrid’s gesture, settled themselves into chairs around the table. Fang came over immediately and put his head into Harry’s lap. Though he felt his jeans instantly soaking through with drool, he stroked the dog’s head affectionately.
“Tea?” asked Hagrid, shoving a plate of cookies at them. But before they could answer, he’d continued, “Heard Finnister an’ Todge talkin’ abou’ yer return, so knew yeh was here. They were a bit too excited, if yeh ask me.”
Harry raised his eyebrows. “Too excited? What do you mean?”
“Finnister could hardly contain ’imself, an’ Todge, well, she’s a quiet ’un, but she looked pleased.”
Before Harry could raise any more questions about the new Hogwarts professors, Hagrid had gone on, “Anyway, to what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Harry doesn’t know where his Muggle grandparents are buried,” Ron chimed in.
“No?” asked Hagrid, giving Harry an astonished frown.
Harry shook his head.
“To tell yeh the truth, I was surprised yeh didn’ know that yer parents were buried wit’ ’em. It was in the letter ’at Dumbledore left fer yer aunt an’ uncle. ’Course, those Muggles didn’ tell yeh nothin’! Rotten of ‘em! James an’ Lily Potter, in a car crash! Rubbish!” Hagrid was growling angrily.
“What letter?” Harry inquired.
“The one ’at Professor Dumbledore left on the doorstep with yeh, tellin’ yer aunt an’ uncle what had happened, an’ why they had to keep yeh, an’ where yer parents had been buried.”
“I never knew about any letter.”
“No, ’course not,” Hagrid said. “Told yeh abou’ it the night I first met yeh, mind, but doubt yeh remember, eh?”
Harry shook his head. “What else do you think they didn’t tell me?”
“I can’ remember the whole thing, but I think ’at was the lot of it.”
Harry knew, in that moment, that he had to get his hands on that letter.
“So my parents? They’re in a Muggle graveyard?”
“Righ’ there in Little Whingin’, near yer mum’s old house. Nice green grass, matter o’ fact. Took ’em ’ere myself,” he said, with a proud smile.
“Hagrid,” said Ron slowly. “These cookies are actually good!”
Hagrid grinned. “Work o’ Olympe, those are!”
“Where is she?” asked Harry.
“Has a school to run, but sends me packages now an’ again,” replied Hagrid, whose sparse visible skin had shone instantly red at the mention of Madam Maxime.
Harry and Ron smiled knowingly at one another. They were pretty sure that Hagrid and the French Headmistress had become an item.
The two boys spent a good deal of the early afternoon in Hagrid’s hut, drinking tea and enjoying the suspiciously tasty cookies. Harry told Hagrid about his tiresome summer with the Dursleys and about visiting Godric’s Hollow, and Hagrid had wept at the mention of Harry’s parents.
When Harry and Ron returned to the common room, Hermione gave them both an earful about being sure to always tell her where they were going so that she didn’t worry. Ron had humored her and, when she was quite finished, had kissed her softly and told her that she was very cute. Harry, uncomfortable, had turned away.
That evening, Harry joined the rest of Hogwarts in the Great Hall for dinner, though there were few students remaining after the summer’s events. Even still, it was good to be back, beneath the beautiful enchanted ceiling, surrounded by the various house colors. But looking up at the staff table, however full of familiar faces, Harry felt that there was an air of emptiness without Dumbledore.
A good deal of pointing and whispering had been taking place, but Harry tried to ignore it as he dove into his shepherd’s pie. Ron told him that most of the students were forbidden to speak to him, due to their parents’ fears that he would drag them into one of his notorious adventures. He laughed aloud at this and noticed Ginny glance up at him. She was positioned down the table and they both decidedly avoided eye contact. Neville, who sat beside her, was also looking anywhere but at Harry.
Suddenly, the casual chatter in the Hall was interrupted by a thunderous disturbance from the Hogwarts grounds. A small girl from the Slytherin table went to a window and, after accessing the situation, emitted a high-pierced scream. The whole room exploded in commotion. Harry glanced at Ron and Hermione, who each gave him a nonplussed expression.
Filch burst through the oak doors of the hall, shouting, “Death Eaters! Death Eaters on the grounds!”
“Everyone to their common rooms!” commanded Professor McGonagall, without missing a beat.
There was a mad rush for the door. Dishware shattered, sobs rose amongst the crowd, and people mowed over one another in their haste to reach safety. But Harry, Ron, and Hermione remained in their seats.
“The Death Eaters are in Azkaban!” Ron screamed over the noise.
“Certainly not all of them!” responded Hermione.
“What do they want?” yelled Harry.
“My guess is YOU!” Hermione answered.
“But how…” Then Harry knew the answer to his own question. “Finnister and Todge! They know I’m here! Maybe one of them is a Death Eater?”
“McGonagall would never hire a Death Eater to teach us!”
“Dumbledore let one slip through, so she could make the same mistake!”
Hermione bit her lip.
Harry leaned into the two of them so that no one else could hear him, but he was still shouting. “If they want me, I can’t let them come in here and attack innocent people!”
Ron and Hermione shared a worried look.
“We’re going out to face them!” he continued. “Come on!”
He led them towards the back of the Great Hall, through the door that Hagrid had often entered to join the feasts. It took them directly out onto the grounds, where they could see many hooded Death Eaters advancing upon the castle. The Hogwarts staff was bursting through the oak front doors, throwing spell after spell at the intruders, who retaliated viciously.
“Out! Out!” Professor McGonagall was shouting at the lot of them.
Harry was keeping a close eye on Arnaud Finnister and a tall, yet plump, woman whom he didn’t recognize, but whom he assumed was Clares Todge. He thought one or both of them might show signs of treason.
“Give us the boy!” someone shouted.
“What boy?” Professor Slughorn asked.
“Potter! We want Potter!”
“Well, you won’t find him here, you idiots!” snarled Professor Sprout.
She was on her back before Harry could take another breath. Hermione made a choking noise.
“We know he’s here!” said a familiar voice, and Harry’s gut dropped out, because he knew that the voice belonged to Bellatrix Lestrange, the woman who had killed Sirius.
The rest of the professors instantly descended onto the hooded figures, who stood their ground, wands held high.
“We have to help them!” said Harry, gesturing for Ron and Hermione to follow him.
“Harry, we can’t! We’re just students!” protested Hermione.
He continued forward and didn’t look at her, but replied, “You don’t believe that any more than I do.”
“Wait!” hissed Ron.
Harry stopped and followed Ron’s gaze, out towards the Forbidden Forest. In the distance, the three of them could see Grawp emerging from the foliage, led by Hagrid.
A squeal of delight emerged from Hermione’s mouth. “Everything will be fine now!”
Harry, who thought this was quite an overstatement, moved back into the shadows with Ron and Hermione, and they watched silently as Grawp joined the professors, flailing his massive arms into the cluster of Death Eaters. They released screams of protest as, one by one, they were flung into the air, sometimes landing yards away. One of them didn’t get up again.
This went on for some time, with the Death Eaters and the Hogwarts professors swapping curses, and Grawp throwing his weight around. At one point, someone had lit Professor Trelawny’s shawl on fire and she had hopped around in a circle, trying to extinguish the flames. Several people fell on each side, but the three onlookers had trouble seeing what exactly was happening. They could only observe helplessly.
“We can’t just do nothing!” Harry said to Ron and Hermione. “Let’s put on the Cloak and see if we can sneak into the middle of it.”
His best friends agreed, though hesitantly, and Harry took the Cloak from his pocket and stretched it over the three of them. They began a slow walk towards the battle, trying to keep their feet hidden and to remain silent.
Once they were on the outskirts, Ron’s voice came, gruff with emotion, “Is that Hagrid?”
The gamekeeper was, indeed, on his back on the ground, near one of the Death Eater’s, who had lost his hood. The tubby man looked remarkably like Gregory Goyle, and Harry knew that it was probably the boy’s father.
Suddenly, Hermione gasped, “Look!” and pointed as much as she could beneath the tight Cloak.
A herd of centaurs were materializing from the Forest, their bows in hand, looking fierce and reluctantly ready for battle.
At the sight of them, the Death Eaters who were still standing seemed to realize that their attack had failed. They scattered and began to dash away, towards the cast-iron gates of the castle.
“After them!” shouted McGonagall.
“We need to get them to Madam Pomfrey,” said Finnister, gesturing to the bodies strewn upon the ground.
Harry was trying to get a better look at Hagrid. He couldn’t see any blood, but the large chest wasn’t rising and falling in its usual manner. Harry felt his insides growing cold.
“We have to get back inside!” said Hermione. “Hurry!”
She tugged on Harry and Ron until they both grudgingly turned back to the castle.
The three of them had made it back to their common room without anyone noticing them. Harry had a nervous churning in his stomach, and he was anxious for news on Hagrid. He paced in a small corner of the room, and Hermione chewed her bottom lip, as the rest of the room gossiped about the incidence. Ron sat cross-legged and unvoiced near Harry’s feet.
McGonagall entered through the Fat Lady’s portrait almost an hour later, her face pale as frost, her hands visibly shaking.
“The Death Eaters have been eradicated from the grounds,” she said slowly, her voice quavering.
There was a cheer from the back of the room.
“But,” the Headmistress began again. “At a great cost.”
Murmuring began to spread throughout the room.
McGonagall cleared her throat and choked, “Professor Sprout…”
She stopped and wiped a handkerchief across her eyes, knocking her glasses askew. To Harry’s left, he heard Hermione breath, “She’s not even trying to seem composed.”
“Professor Sprout and… and Professor H-Hagrid… have… fallen… in the fight.”
“F-Fallen?” stammered Neville.
McGonagall took a deep breath. “They’ve… passed on, Longbottom.”
With this, and a small sob, the Headmistress hurried back out through the portrait.