Harry Potter and the Conch of Ice

Disclaimer : I don’t own any of this except for the ability to put the words in such a way that occasionally they form a proper sentence. Post HBP but with HBP spoilers…sort of. I also admit, up front, that I have only 4 chapters of this story developed. In Word – at a size 10 arial font – it comes to 46 pages. I have reworked these 4 chapters over and over to the point that I’m probably missing things, so please, feel free to point things out. As well, however, I would really appreciate your feedback on how the plot progresses. Thanks. – Rahainia

Conversations on a Train

It was that time of year again when Platform 9 ¾ was filled with laughter and tears of students and their families. This time, however, both emotions were rather subdued in comparison to the years gone by. It was no wonder. A great man had been lost to those that called and had once called Hogwarts School of Witches and Wizards home. Headmaster Dumbledore, killed by one of his own professors, was no more. The returning students had attended his funeral and despite the summer time away from the school, many were still in disbelief that their beloved Headmaster would no longer sit at the table in the Great Hall and that his blue eyes would no longer twinkle at them when they thought they had managed to get away with some magical prank.

Occasionally, the train that waited patiently for the students to board softly belched out some steam, startling those standing nearby. It was a gentle reminder that life continued even in the face of death. While the people gathered here were saddened at the great loss in the Wizarding world, they were grateful for the reminder from the old-fashioned locomotive.

What amazed both the students and their families was that no word had been given on who the new Head was at Hogwarts. They had all received letters notifying them that the new term would commence as normal, lists were given of books and resources, and a few received the coveted badges signifying that they were Prefects.

But nothing was said about who the new Headmaster or Headmistress was. The unofficial betting pool showed that Professor McGonagall was the favourite to assume the top position at the school. A few, however, favoured Professor Flitwick.

Most of the conversations by the train were on this very topic. A quick word on summer vacation experiences and then straight to the issue which would impact them all. Wizards and witches were a gossipy group and this gathering was no exception. Some one would occasionally toss out a name of a wizard or witch who had no teaching experience, but the more wizened people always returned to McGonagall or Flitwick.

A quiet group stood a bit apart from the students, not talking and yet finding solace in the presence of the others. Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was perhaps hit the hardest by Dumbledore’s death. Over the summer, he had continued to grow taller but with his apparent lack of appetite, he now appeared gaunt to those who cared about him. His dark hair, almost lank from a lack of attention, dropped onto his forehead covering his infamous scar. He never bothered to adjust his glasses so that he could push it out of his eyes.

Ron Weasley, had not lost his appetite, but his typical Weasley charm and ability to find humour in life was missing. His blue eyes weren’t so bright and he seemed to be more content to observe life than challenge it head on as he was wont to do in the past. Ron stared down at his shoes for a moment before returning his gaze to people on the platform.

Hermione Granger, the Gryffindor Princess and resident bookworm of Hogwarts, had become more reserved over the summer but otherwise appeared to be unchanged. At least, as unchanged as one could be, knowing that someone who she cared for was now dead. Of the three, she seemed to be the one who most accepted Dumbledore’s death. She had cried her tears and had her moments of denial, but she knew that to win the War she would need to continue her studies. Dumbledore would have wanted that of her…and the others.

A short burst of loud cheering distracted the witches and wizards on Platform 9 ¾. Harry looked up to see a blond head become surrounded by a large group of boisterous boys and girls.

“Malfoy.” He said with disgust.

Ron glared. Hermione simply shrugged.

“The Ministry said he was innocent of any and all crimes.” She said softly.

“If he’s so innocent, why did he run? Better yet, where did he run off to?” Ron asked harshly.

“No one knows.” Harry replied. “He just disappeared until he was summoned to report before the Wizengamot. When the verdict came in, he disappeared again. It’s been just over a week since the verdict.”

“No wonder the Slytherins are happy to see him. He’s their bloody ringleader and they probably thought that he wouldn’t be allowed back to school.” Ron accused.

Harry didn’t respond. He just let his green eyes stare at the back of Malfoy’s head.

Sensing that he was being observed…no, scrutinized…Draco Malfoy, son of an accused Death Eater, turned. His light blue-grey eyes met a pair of green ones impassively. Draco dipped his head in recognition, but wasn’t surprised when Harry didn’t respond in kind. Uninterested, Malfoy returned his focus to his housemates who were giving him a warm greeting of return.

“Must be a bit of a relief, eh, Malfoy?” Crabbe softly crowed.

Malfoy glared at his stupid companion. How was it a relief? Yes, deemed innocent of all charges and yet inside he felt…

“The dead don’t feel relief, Crabbe.” Was his rather cryptic response.

“Dead?” Blaise Zabini shook his head. “Then we must remind you that you are alive.”

“I’d rather just get on the train, if you don’t mind.”

Walking away from his housemates, Draco heard the overlapping whispers following him.

“…killed Dumbledore…”

“…Death Eater…”

“…Father’s in Azkaban…”

“…mother killed herself…”

“…just like a Slytherin…”

Finding an empty compartment on the train, Draco stretched out and pinched the bridge of his nose. He felt another head ache coming on and tried to fight it with his inner strength. The problem was the dead didn’t have much inner strength.

“Was that Malfoy?” A female voice asked as she approached the Golden Trio, who watched their enemy silently from their isolated spot on the Platform.

Her only response was three heads nodding softly. Frowning, the girl twisted her long red hair into a pony tail.

“Can’t believe the prat has the gall to come back to Hogwarts.” Ginny Weasley said.

“He’s been declared innocent.” Hermione said.

“Yeah, we all know how adept the Ministry is at these kinds of things.” Ginny retorted.

“Hey, watch it, Sis…Dad works for the Ministry.” Ron argued.

“So does Percy. What’s your point?” Ginny asked sharply, referring to one of the Weasley siblings, who was currently persona non grata at the Weasley household.

Ron just pursed his lips and turned his gaze back to the entrance of the train car where Malfoy had gone.

“Do you suppose that he really is…” Hermione started.

“Don’t, ‘Mione.” Harry bit out. “Don’t go there.”

“Harry.” Ginny reached out and touched Harry’s arm. She felt him tense up, but he didn’t push her away. Despite his admitted feelings towards her, Harry was sticking true to his statement that he wouldn’t allow himself to become any closer to her. Those who cared for him were vulnerable and apt to become victims. Look at his godfather Sirius. Look at Dumbledore.

Ginny watched the Golden Trio. She remembered seeing them together when she was only 10 and they were in their first year at Hogwarts. It was amazing to see how much they had aged as they now entered their seventh and final year of school. They seemed older than most of the other students also entering their final year of magical education, but that was probably due to the battles that they had already fought and adventures they had already experienced. Even Ginny hadn’t be immune to their fights and between her time with the memory of Tom Riddle and her ongoing worrying of Harry, she was amazed that she didn’t have ulcers at sixteen.

It was time for a change of topic.

“So,” she began, linking arms with Hermione, “We’ve established that you’re Head Girl. No surprise there. But who’s the Head Boy?”

“Blaise Zabini.” Hermione said sadly.

“What?” Ron glared. “That git got it? How is that possible? He’s a bloody Slytherin and between Malfoy and Snape, what genius thought that he should be Head Boy?”

Hermione sighed. It was going to be a long year if Ron didn’t manage to control his bitterness. At least Harry appeared somewhat level-headed.

“Once again, Ron, Malfoy has been declared innocent. Snape’s judgement should be in shortly. And the actions of his other housemates should have had no impact on Zabini’s position.”

“My god, you actually believe that drivel you just spouted?!?!” Ron exclaimed.

“I do not spout drivel!” Hermione raised her voice.

“Harry, talk to her!” Ron stormed off to board the train.

“Well.” Ginny watched her temperamental brother stalk away. “I thought that was supposed to be a safe topic.”

“Nothing’s safe anymore.” Harry said gloomily.

“Not as long as Ron throws temper tantrums. Really, Ginny, however did you manage to gain a rather even-keeled temperament?” Hermione tried to make a joke.

“With 6 older brothers, by the time I came along, nothing I did phased my parents. I get more attention by not stomping my feet and yelling. For Ron, it’s just his basic Neanderthal means of communicating his distress.”

“Hey, you don’t suppose he went looking for Malfoy, do you?” Harry asked, his green eyes widening with worry.

“He’s not that stupid.” Ginny replied without believing what she said.

The three looked at each and darted after Ron.

HP***hp***HP

“Bet you thought I was going after Malfoy.” Ron smirked as he stretched out in the compartment.

Harry looked away guiltily.

“Look I’m not stupid enough to get points taken away before school even starts.” Ron stared out the window. “Although, once we’re there, I make no promises.”

“Ron, let’s just get through this year.” Harry implored. “It’s bad enough with Dumbledore gone. Toss in worrying about the members of the Order. I don’t need to have to keep an eye on you, as well.”

“Well, don’t keep an eye on me, Harry. If that Snake so much as looks at me wrong, I’ll…”

“…ignore him.” Hermione announced as she entered the compartment. “You’re a Prefect, Ron, and friend of the Head Girl. You have an image to maintain.”

Ron screwed his face up at Hermione.

“You want me to hex you so that your face stays like that?” Hermione threatened.

Sighing as his friends continued to exchange barbs, Harry stared unseeingly at the trees the train passed.

All three looked up as their compartment door swung open.

“Got room for three more?” Neville’s smiling face appeared before them.

“Three?” Hermione asked.

Luna Lovegood’s dreamy face popped around the corner.

“Ginny’s here, too…somewhere…” Her soft voice intoned.

“Right behind you.”

“Oh, didn’t see you.” Luna said.

“Story of my life.” Ginny pushed past Luna and Neville to grab the seat beside Harry. “Whatcha thinking?”

“Just wondering who the Head is now.” He said. “I’m surprised they didn’t even tell the Head Boy and Girl.”

Hermione nibbled on her lower lip.

“Hermione?” Harry asked. “They didn’t tell you, did they?”

“What? No!” Hermione answered truthfully. “But you’re right. It is surprising. They always tell the Head Students about any changes in the teaching structure. Nothing was said this year. Not even confirmation of who is returning to teach. It’s very frustrating not knowing.”

Ron rolled his eyes.

Several compartments away, a group of Slytherins sat in silence. No one wanted to be the first to speak. While none of them had seen Draco since Dumbledore’s death, they all recognized that he was currently in one of his brooding moods. His eyes stared out the window without focusing on anything.

Sighing, Blaise Zabini nudged his friend with a booted foot.

“Okay, Malfoy, you’re going to have to talk sooner or later. Slytherin’s are loyal to their own kind. We know that you are probably feeling something that resembles guilt at being there when Dumbledore was killed. And that…”

“Enough!” Draco roared. “You know nothing. Not about how I feel. Not about what I saw. And not about what I’m thinking.”

“Ah, finally, some emotion.” Zabini smirked. “You aren’t dead after all.”

“I am dead, Blaise. I am cold.”

“We could always call in Pansy. I’m sure she could warm you up and prove that you’re alive.”

Draco shuddered.

“Call her in, Zabini, and I will have no qualms about…”

“I get it.” Blaise waved off his suggestion with a hand. “But mark my words, Malfoy, we will talk.”

“You wouldn’t understand anything I said.”

“These two goons wouldn’t. That’s a certainty.” Zabini pointed to Crabbe and Goyle. “I, on the other hand, have this amazing tendency to actually comprehend strange stories and rather unbelievable explanations. Granted, I’m usually the cause of them.”

A corner of Draco’s mouth twitched in amusement.

Blaise smiled knowingly as a more comfortable silence again filled the compartment.

HP***hp***HP

“So where were this summer, Hermione?” Ginny asked. “Usually you come to the Burrow for the last few weeks, but your last letter said you were otherwise occupied.”

“Oh, just doing stuff.” Hermione waved off her answer.

“Stuff?” Ron joked. “Our Hermione was doing stuff?!?! Well, that’ll certainly make the front page of the Daily Prophet.”

“Ignore him.” Ginny suggested.

“I’m trying.” Hermione replied tightly. “Look I just was unavailable. Thanks for the invitation but I was…”

“…otherwise occupied.” Ginny grinned. “Got it.”

“Was he cute?” Luna asked.

“Huh?” Ron piped in and whipped his head around to look at Hermione. “You were with a him? Vicky?!”

“Grow up, Ronald.” Hermione snapped. “I was not with Viktor.”

“You didn’t answer Luna’s question, though.” Ginny chided jokingly.

Hermione joined Harry in staring out the window.

Neville and Ron exchanged concerned looks while Ginny and Luna grinned knowingly at each other.

The snack car reached the compartment containing Harry and his friends. The lady stopped her calling offering her sweet treats and refreshments. Spotting Hermione, she rummaged around in her apron’s deep pockets and sighed with satisfaction as she pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment.

“Miss Granger, this is for you.”

Hermione took the roll and smiled a thank you.

“Now, would anyone care for a treat?”

As the boys scrambled for the cart, Hermione unrolled the parchment. Ginny and Luna watched as their friend paled.

“Hermione?” Ginny asked, leaning forward.

Carefully, Hermione re-rolled the parchment and waiting as the cart rolled away. The boys settled back into their seats with their chocolates and sugary confections.

“Hermione?” Ginny asked again. “What’s wrong? What does it say?”

Taking a deep breath, the newly appointed Head Girl announced, “Snape has been found innocent.”

HP***hp***HP

“What?!?!” Goyle gasped. “But…but…”

“Innocent.” Blaise repeated carefully, re-rolling the parchment. “So who killed Dumbledore?”

Three sets of eyes turned to Draco, who had not reacted at the announcement. He refused to look at them.

“Draco? What’s going on?” Blaise asked.

Silence.

Glaring at his fellow Slytherin, Blaise stormed out of the train compartment and searched for Hermione. Even watching a few second and third years scamper out of his way in fright did nothing to soothe his savage mood.

He whipped open the door to the compartment where Hermione and her friends were discussing this new turn of events. Spotting a similar rolled piece of parchment, he asked, “What do we tell the students?”

“Simple. We tell them what it says. Snape is innocent.” Hermione replied.

“Do you think he’s teaching back at Hogwarts?” Ginny asked.

Blaise stared at her as if she had grown a second head.

“Nonsense. He was just declared innocent a few hours ago. There is no way for him to be re-instated back at the school. Besides, if the betting pools are right and Professor McGonagall is the new Headmistress, she won’t take him back. They never got along.”

“Who’s the head of your house, Zabini?” Harry asked.

Blaise paused.

“I don’t know.”

“They haven’t announced a replacement head of Hogwarts or head of the Slytherin house.” Harry whispered. “What if Snape is both?”

Ron shook his head adamantly.

“No way will that happen. Do you know how many students would be pulled out of Hogwarts?”

Hermione stood up and pushed Blaise out into the corridor. She shut the door behind her.

“Look, Zabini. I don’t know what game you’re playing…”

“I’m not playing a game, Granger. I just found out this news…same as you. I don’t know who our head is…of the school or my house.” He looked away.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

“Malfoy’s acting strange.”

“And this is news how exactly?” Hermione rolled her eyes.

Blaise exhaled in frustration. He rested his head on the window of the corridor. Watching the ground race by made him dizzy so he closed his eyes.

“He’s not telling us anything about where he was or what happened. And he doesn’t seem overly upset or surprised at the announcement about Snape.”

“Maybe he’s still tired from his own Wizengamot experience.”

“I doubt it.” Blaise shook his head. “Malfoy is a braggart…typically, he’d be telling everyone who will listen, and those who won’t, about what he went through. Malfoy is also an expert at hiding his feelings and pretending to be the opposite of what he is.”

Hermione tucked her first response away.

“You mean he really isn’t a prat?”

Blaise chuckled.

“Okay, maybe not a real expert.” He smiled. “But there’s something going on. He knows more than he’s saying.”

“What is he saying?” Hermione asked, curious.

The Slytherin sighed.

“He keeps going on about being dead. I’m sure he means figuratively. I mean we’re all seeing him and he’s not going through solid objects like the ghosts at school.”

“Where was he this summer?”

Blaise shrugged.

“He’s not telling us. He looks haunted. I mean he seems to be in one piece physically…but upstairs, you know, I’m thinking that there are bats in the clocktower.”

“Maybe he was at St. Mungos.” Hermione suggested.

A head shaking ‘no’ was the response received.

“I have contacts there. If Malfoy was there, I would have been told.”

“Azkaban?” Hermione raised an eyebrow, knowing the answer to that already.

“Please. If he was there, he wouldn’t be here with us now. There’s no way he would have survived a couple of months there. Contrary to popular belief, he isn’t as…strong…I mean…oh, never mind.”

Hermione sighed and rubbed her forehead.

“Look, I’d like to say that when I find out, I’ll let you know…” Blaise let his statement hang.

“I know, you have to be loyal to Slytherin…but if there is a way to let me know, if there is a reason to let me know…” Hermione’s sentence mirrored his.

“I know…” Blaise walked away. Both of the Head Students knew that there were a lot of “I know’s” in their conversations. Both knew that it that despite their Head Student status, there would be secrets between them and they had just what would probably be the first of many empty conversations.

“What did he say?” Ron demanded as Hermione entered the compartment.

Hermione frowned at her friend’s audacity.

“Head Student business.” She replied tartly.

Ron glared and shoved a chocolate frog into his mouth.

HP***hp***HP

“Do they know?” Draco asked without looking up as Blaise returned.

“Yes. Like us they also have no idea where Snape might be.”

Draco’s face remained impassive.

“Do you know, Malfoy?” Blaise leaned forward.

Again, silence.

The Head Boy turned to Crabbe and Goyle.

“You two, get out. Go pester some first years or something. Don’t scar them permanently, though, as some of them will be in our house.”

The two goons hesitated.

“I said, get out!” Blaise commanded and pointed to the door.

Belying their girth, the two oversized boys scampered away quite quickly.

Blaise put a hand on Draco’s knee.

“Okay, now that we’re alone…”

A blond eyebrow arched.

“I’m not that kind of guy, Blaise.”

Smirking, Zabini leaned back and folded his arms across his chest.

“I know that, but at least you responded in some fashion.”

Draco sighed.

“So, where were you?”

Silence.

“Okay, let’s try this tactic. How was summer? Do anything exciting?”

A corner of Draco’s mouth twitched.

“For me, I spent my time on the beaches of the Mediterranean, contemplating which female to bestow my presence upon.”

A larger twitch.

“In the end, I realized I couldn’t choose. There were just so many attractive women in skimpy bikinis with rather large…assets.”

A much bigger twitch.

“So, I found a man.”

Draco gave a thumbs-up to his friend.

“I went to a place to be healed.” He said softly.

“And are you?” Blaise asked.

Draco shrugged.

“And Snape?”

Silence.

“Ah, back to this.” Blaise rubbed the back of his neck. “When you’re ready to talk, let me know. I’m Head Boy and I’m supposed to…how did McGonagall put it?...ah, right…be a shoulder to cry on when a student has a problem. Because we Slytherins are known for being sympathetic and compassionate. Merlin, but who ever thought I was cut out for this role really doesn’t know me.”

Draco nodded absently and resumed staring out the window.

Blaise rolled his eyes at his friend. Apparently, wherever Draco had been, he had lost his sense of humour.

HP***hp***HP

“First years! Over here!” The familiar figure of Hagrid boomed as the returning students clamoured for the carriages to share with their friends. As always, it was chaos as young people ran into each other.

“Hagrid!” Harry tried to yell to his friend over the noise of students.

Hagrid looked up and nodded a greeting before returning his focus to the first years.

“He doesn’t look too happy.” Ron commented as they found an empty carriage.

“Would you be?” Hermione questioned. “Obviously they haven’t told us who the new Head at Hogwarts is because it must be someone everyone will disapprove of. Toss in the news about Snape and we’re going to have one unhappy feast in the Great Hall.”

“As long as it isn’t an Umbridge wanna-be. No one can be that bad.” Ron remarked.

Harry pursed his lips. He doubted Ron’s statement. Things…bad things…just seemed to have a very high occurrence of happening to him over the past few years.

They looked through the carriage windows as the first years began to board the boats that would take them towards Hogwarts. His friendship with Hermione and Ron was his rock through out all those moments. Harry wasn’t sure if he could have made it as far as he had without them.

“Do you remember when we had to do that?” He asked softly.

Hermione and Ron nodded.

“We were so innocent. So naïve.” Harry continued. “We’re going into our seventh year and when I look back, I barely remember being like them.”

“They’ll grow up, too, Harry.” Hermione said. “We can help them to prepare for the War.”

“Better to teach them to survive.” Harry replied softly. “Better to teach them how it feels to lose someone.”

Ron leaned back glumly. Over the summer, Harry had stayed at Number Twelve Grimmauld Place but had come to visit at the Burrow for the last two weeks. In that time, Ron had to admit that spending time with Harry was no fun. He was morose, sullen.

Yes, Dumbledore’s death had hit them all hard, but Harry seemed to almost replay it over and over. In his sleep, Ron had heard Harry cry out and had no idea how to help his friend recover from the pain. At the train station, he had talked to Hermione about it, but this was one of those few instances where even she had no solution to the problem. The best they could do, she thought, was to continue to be Harry’s friends and be there when he needed them. Ron, however, was growing exceedingly tired of Harry’s depressed state and frankly thought his friend was one breakdown away from becoming a permanent resident of St. Mungo’s.

Hermione meanwhile flipped through her copy of Hogwarts: A History looking for some information.

“Do you mean to tell me that you haven’t memorized that book yet?” Ron scoffed.

Hermione glared at him briefly and returned to her scan.

“Ah hah!” She smiled. “Hogwarts has always had a Headmaster or Headmistress. It is part of the school’s founding constitution that a Head be selected based on his or her magical skills, knowledge of our history and laws and ability to be fair due to the constant bickering between the houses.”

“That’s a pretty high level of expectation for one person to meet.” Ron quipped.

“Dumbledore met it.” Harry said.

“Maybe they haven’t been able to find someone.” Ron suggested.

“But there has always been a Head.” Hermione argued. “There must be. According to the rules, no Head, no school. If we’ve been summoned back, there must be a Headmaster or Headmistress.”

“What if McGonagall was offered the position but refused it?” Ron asked.

“Or maybe she accepted on a temporary basis?” Hermione thought out loud. “Yes, that must be it. She’s the temporary Head so there was no need to send an announcement out.”

Ron nodded his agreement with this theory.

“Harry? What do you think.”

“I think it’s going to be a long year.”

Ron rolled his eyes at his friend.

HP***hp***HP

Draco watched the first years timidly approach Hagrid. Having grown taller, Draco was still dwarfed by the giant man and he remembered what it felt like to be in his presence when he was only 11 years old. Secretly, he hoped that he had some pride and didn’t show his fear on his face, but he was realistic enough to know that some must have shown. Hagrid, however, was either too gentle or too obtuse to notice. Or perhaps both.

Thankfully, Blaise had given up with the pestering and the bothersome chit chat. While he knew that his friend meant well, Draco continued to fight a headache and was quite content to sit back and make the most out of a silent ride up to the castle.

Snape was innocent. That meant his godfather was free. Where would Severus go? Who ever was in charge of Hogwarts would be foolish to accept the potions master back. Besides, his last position had been teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts and it was apparently Hogwarts’ unofficial – and unintentional – tradition that no one would teach that course for more than one year. No, Snape would not be returning to Hogwarts.

The Ministry of Magic was obviously out of the question, as well. Snape could not be trusted…or rather it was felt that he could not be trusted. Draco knew otherwise. He knew that his godfather was held in an unbreakable oath to prevent Draco from carrying out the Dark Lord’s mission. It was ultimately his fault that Dumbledore was dead and that Snape was accused of it. Despite being proclaimed innocent, Severus Snape would have a difficult time finding supporters. Perhaps, Draco realized, he could do something. With his own father locked away, Draco had access to the Malfoy fortune. Maybe, just maybe, he could do something to help the man who had tried to help him.

If only it was that easy to repay all of my debts. He thought sadly.

Draco knew that he owed his life to a group of people. Most of them, he was familiar with. But there was one…one who was instrumental in saving him from himself…and he had no idea who she was or where to find her. The others, who worked with her, would not reveal any information about her. Draco knew it was a she, if not by her hands, but by her scent. It was slightly musky, and yet delicately flowery at the same time. She never talked to him and he had never seen her. They had spent all summer together and she had never said a word to him. He had never seen her, but he believed that if they were to ever cross paths again he would know her immediately.

***flashback***

Draco screamed. It was like a never-ending Cruciatus curse flowing though his body. Tendrils of green light wrapped around him, tightening their grip, suffocating him, lifting him off the ground. Though the pain, Draco Malfoy knew that this was his payment for failure. He had failed to kill Dumbledore. Snape would be caught so he had just caused the Dark Lord to lose a valuable Death Eater. And he had run. Failure on three fronts.

He was foolish to think that he could outrun the reaches of the Dark Lord. The snakelike fingers of green light proved that as they burst a fresh wave of torture through him. Draco screamed and writhed, but nothing proved to be an adequate outlet for his pain.

Blood oozed from his nose and flowed freely from the cuts lashed upon him from tree branches and the dark energy. Years of neglectful abuse from his own father could not compare to what he was feeling and for the first time in his young life, Draco Malfoy wished he could die. He knew it would not be long for that wish to be granted, unless the Dark Lord wished to make an example of him.

Suddenly, Draco fell to the ground. No green energy snaked around him. The ground did not shake. Even the wind did not blow. Draco painfully rolled over on to his back and looked up. The shadows were disappearing, retreating into the even darker night. He was not dead.

It was worse. He was being left to die. Alone. The worst possible death for him. Alone.

He remembered waking up and the first sensation was coolness beneath him. Not the coolness of the grass upon which he had landed, but…cotton sheets?

Draco tried to bolt upright and found himself immediately tethered down by a pair of powerful arms.

“ARGHAHMAH?!” He shouted. Confusion coursed through him. What had he said? He repeated his question, louder. It was still as unintelligible as before.

Draco knew that who ever was holding him down, was talking to him. He could feel the vibrations through him. However, he couldn’t understand the words. A pair of gentle hands took his own and guided them up to his ears and eyes. Bandages. That explained it. He could neither see nor hear properly. A fate worse than death…to live life as mute. To be considered dumb while intelligence raged in his brain.

He fought. He would not live life unable to communicate! Draco lashed out at his unseen companions. Again he was held down by those strong arms. He stilled. He would wait for his opportunity.

Sniffing, he caught the scent of something delicate. It came nearer to him. A cool set of fingers stroked across his forehead and brushed his hair out of his face. Never had he felt such tenderness. His mouth opened as he started to pant. The fingers placed a leaf in his mouth and gently closed his jaw. He knew, without hearing the words, that he was to chew and swallow.

Darkness again surrounded him.

When he awoke, he knew she was near. That scent. That delicate scent. Little did he know that it would that scent that would be the most powerful balm to his broken soul.

***end flashback***

“Oh, look, there’s Nick! And the Bloody Baron! And…”

Harry tuned out Hermione’s gushes about the non-corporeal residents of Hogwarts. He knew who they were. They knew him. Whoopee.

“Wow…look at all the candles and stars!” Ron pointed out as they entered the Great Hall with all the other students. Oohs and aahs escaped from the young men and women at the beauty dancing across the seeing of the Great Hall.

“It never fails to amaze me, this place.” Neville remarked quietly. “There’s something really magical about Hogwarts.”

Ginny and Lavender stopped walking to stare at their fellow Gryffindor. Longbottom had the good grace to blush when he realized what he had said.

“Isn’t that Dumbledore’s hat at the table?” Luna asked quietly from behind them.

The group turned to look at the professors’ table and to their amazement at the centre chair was a large pointed hat. The hat that had graced the head of their once beloved Headmaster. Harry blinked back his tears.

“Maybe they’re having a tribute to him.” Ron suggested quietly.

“Look, let’s just get our seats. See you later, Luna.” Hermione called out and pushed her housemates towards the Gryffindor table.

Students filed into the Great Hall and shouted out greetings to their friends that they hadn’t yet seen on the train. Laughter and insults were shot back and forth across the room from tables seating opposing houses. Some were more honest and good natured than others.

Ravenclaw students started shouting out how many books they had read over the summer and starting critiquing each others choices.

“You probably read more than any of them, ‘Mione.” Harry said.

Hermione smiled at her friend.

“Only because you sent me a bunch.” She replied.

“There are a lot in the library at Grimmauld Place…figured someone should appreciate them.”

“I do.” Hermione reached out and covered Harry’s hand with her own. “Thank you.”

“You didn’t send me any books.” Ron complained in jest.

“There weren’t any with pictures.” Harry replied with a faint smile.

Ron started to think that maybe seeing Dumbledore’s hat was providing some form of healing to Harry’s wounded soul.

“Hey, did anyone notice that we haven’t seen a picture of Dumbledore yet?” Ginny asked.

Her housemates looked at each in confusion as they realized she was correct.

“It’s probably in the new Head’s office.” Hermione stated knowingly.

Several Gryffindor heads nodded in agreement.

“It’s probably warning him about which students to keep an eye on.” Ron joked.

“The list would be a lot shorter if he said which students don’t get in trouble.” Ginny replied smartly.

The Gryffindor table laughed loudly at this.

Meanwhile, the Slytherin table was rather subdued for their usual nature. While they were all outwardly pleased to have the unspoken leader back within their ranks, as young adults they were also rather unsure of how to respond to him. Of course, it was rather difficult to respond when all Draco Malfoy did was stare with unseeing eyes. He walked. He sat. He replied when necessary. But it seemed as if the blond man was in a trance. Others took it be a form of guilt and were looking forward to seeing how the Boy Who Had It All coped with such an emotion.

Blaise Zabini and Pansy Parkinson were, perhaps, the most truly concerned for him at his own table. But they had Slytherin reputations to maintain and were willing to tolerate a spaced-out Malfoy for only so long.

Looking down at his robes, Draco pulled off an unseen piece of lint. He knew that if she had been there, she would have hummed in displeasure at his wish to look impeccable. He couldn’t fight who he was, after all, he argued to her. It was a foolish argument at the time. He couldn’t see. How would he know how he looked? He told her that as a Malfoy he had known his appearance even without seeing it, but Draco could feel her laughing at him. He liked making her laugh.

*** flashback ***

“Well, I can smell you and hear you now.” Draco crowed. “We’ve touched. Would you be adverse if I tasted you?”

He felt her pull back in surprise.

“I can’t see you. I just thought that I should get to know you with my remaining senses and that leaves taste.” He grinned playfully.

She sighed but he knew she was teasing him.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

Silence.

“The others won’t tell me anything about you. My imagination has run amok with ideas that you’re unable to talk or have taken a vow of silence or I’ll recognize you if you talk.”

Silence.

Draco sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. A few rebellious strands fell back on to his forehead.

She leaned over and brushed them back.

“I like it when you do that.” He sighed. “How can you be so kind to me? Knowing what I’ve done? Even the others, when they talk to me, I know that they aren’t happy to be doing so. I know that they’re following orders. But you…you seem to go out of your way to be kind to me. Why?”

He heard her clothing rustle. She had just shrugged. It was true that as one sense disappeared the others took over. His hearing had never been so good. He heard a flutter of wings and turned to face an owl that had just arrived.

Her soft steps went to the window and he could hear her removing what sounded like a book along with some parchment.

“I don’t suppose you’ll read to me anytime soon?” He hoped out loud.

Silence.

She returned to him and ran a finger along his jaw. It hadn’t taken him long to understand that that was her way of saying ‘until we meet again’. They had never said good bye…there was always a promise of again.

And he, Draco Malfoy, traitor to the magical world, felt that he could once again be whole. Could. Just maybe. Perhaps.

*** end flashback ***

Slowly, the din in the Great Hall began to die down as the students ran out of things to talk about. They realized that no one was sitting at the Professor’s table and that no one had announced that the Sorting Ceremony was about to start. Whispers began to fly about at these two odd circumstances.

“…school cancelled…”

“…Ministry taking over…”

“…Sorting is being done in secret…”

“…no more Houses…”

“Ah hah! So this is where I left my hat!”

The Great Hall fell silent.

An elderly gentleman strode into the room from a corner door in the back and approached his hat. Smiling, he placed it on his head and sighed happily as it rested on his grey hairs. Nimble fingers tugged at the sleeves of his robes in a futile attempt to straighten them. Sighing as he gave up the task of rearranging his robes, the man looked up, his blue eyes twinkling in merriment and mischief.

The students of Hogwarts stared at the man, their mouths open and eyes wide in shock.

Dumbledore’s hat was been worn by none other than Dumbledore himself…very much alive.