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The Goodwill Games
folder
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
4
Views:
8,351
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Slash - Male/Male › Harry/Draco
Rating:
Adult
Chapters:
4
Views:
8,351
Reviews:
25
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Part One
Title: The Goodwill Games, Or How To Heal A Wounded School
To:
Author:
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17/Adult
Wordcount: 24,730 words, divided into four parts; I will post one part a day until all four parts have been posted.
Warnings: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows, oral, graphic m/m sex
Summary: In order to heal Hogwarts, the other Houses must learn to embrace Slytherin. Harry takes this somewhat literally.
Request: "Snape as mentor to Draco and irritation to Harry. I don’t mind if he’s alive or not – a portrait Snape might be fun. Smut is highly appreciated, but just a sexy kiss will do if that’s not your thing. I adore UST, post-war fics set in Hogwarts (boys back to finish/repeat their final year), awkward but sweet first time sex. A mix of fluff, humour and angst would go down very nicely – happy ending please!"
Disclaimer: The characters in this fiction are the property of J.K. Rowling and not mine, sadly. That doesn't seem to have stopped anyone from using them in truly sick and demented ways. No money is being made from this.
A/N: This was written for the hds_beltane fic fest over on Livejournal. I tried to work in as many of the things requested as possible (socks!), and decided to keep to a post-DH setting at Hogwarts where I could still use a little infusion of Snape. Hope you enjoy! Thanks to my beta reader--you know who you are!
May 2nd, 1998, Hogwarts Castle
Minerva McGonagall stepped outside the castle into the cold grey dawn, a shawl wrapped around her frame to ward off the morning chill from the clouds obstructing the first pale beams of sunlight from the eastern hills. There were dark circles under her eyes; she'd barely slept at all last night, working to help heal those wounded from the battle, covering the bodies of the dead, and talking with Ministry officials in the account of Lord Voldemort's demise.
The first dawn of a new age. The war was over.
Most of the students had been sent home after the battle, though some of them were still around, sleeping in their dorm rooms, awaiting transportation that would take them home today. Among those were a few Muggle-born who had come during the battle to assist, though most had been taken into the detention camps.
So many things to heal. Too many to mourn.
She bent over to pick up a piece of rose-coloured glass from one of the castle windows, smashed during the battle last night. The castle was sturdy, but it had taken quite a beating. Today would begin the daunting task of cleaning everything up, making repairs. She looked up as a great shadow fell over her. "Ah, Hagrid. Good to see you up and moving."
Hagrid looked about as bad as Minerva felt. His beard was tangled and full of ash, dust, and tears. And blood, though none of it his own. "Hi there, Prof--I mean eh--Headmaster--eh--err--what do I call ye, now?"
The teachers last night had unanimously elected her as the new Headmistress. It was a foregone decision really, with her years of devotion to the school. She granted Hagrid a small smile. "Please, just call me Minerva, Hagrid. I think it would be simpler."
Hagrid nodded. "Well a belated Happy Beltane to ye, Pr--Minerva, I mean. I expect you'll be wanting my help today to get this mess cleaned up?"
Minerva looked around at the rubble on the ground. The bodies had been cleared away, but there were still scraps of robes, puddles which might be blood . . . "Indeed," she said softly. Hagrid would be able to lift some of the larger things. She would survey the damage. Then she would try to come up with a way to fix everything. Damage like this hadn't occurred to the castle in--well, she wasn't sure if the castle had ever sustained damage like this. She sighed. "Best start with some of the debris near the walls, Hagrid. I'll have to inspect the damage and see what repairs need to be made."
It would probably be hours before Slughorn was up and moving. Professor Flitwick was already having a look at the interior of the castle, looking for any bodies they'd missed, any remaining traps or spells left by the Death Eaters. Madame Pomfrey was in charge of the remaining students. For the moment, it was just her and Hagrid, walking the grounds.
She left Hagrid to his inspections and began walking on her own, softly tutting as she passed by shards of red and yellow-coloured glass--that had been a spectacular stained glass window of a sunrise, and she doubted it would be the same again. "Reparo," she said, pointing her wand at the pieces. Nothing happened. Somehow, she had known it would be that way. This would not be a simple fix with spells.
Perhaps the Goblins would be able to assist, she mused, although they would undoubtedly be busy with their own repairs on Gringotts. There would be a price to pay to involve them, she was sure. Minerva was reaching down to collect a bit of the glass when she heard Hagrid shouting.
"Professor--Minerva! Headmistress! You have to see this," Hagrid bellowed, and Minerva picked up her robes and almost ran towards him, thinking perhaps he'd found another body, or (more hopefully) a survivor from the castle. When she reached him, he was bent over a large hole smashed in the side of the castle by one of the giants, and there was blood on his hands.
"Where's the body? Are they still alive?" She asked, looking around at the rubble. She noticed something peculiar; there was blood along the edges of the hole in the wall, dripping down in a slow steady stream. It almost looked like the castle was bleeding.
Hagrid was trying to wipe his hands clean. "There's no body, McGonagall, and that's the frightening thing of it. I wouldn't be yelling the place down if there were. But look at all this blood, will you? It looks to be coming from the castle itself! Isn't that the strangest thing you ever saw?"
Minerva looked closer, running her fingertip along the break in the wall. There seemed to be veins in the grey stone. The blood was warm. "Dumbledore always said the castle was partially sentient . . ." And what did this mean? If they couldn't use magic to repair things and they couldn't just rebuild, then where did that leave them? "I need to ask him. Wait here. Don't touch anything."
She left Hagrid standing there and hurried into the castle, towards the Headmaster's office--now hers. It still responded to the old password, as she hadn't yet had time to change it. Inside, the photos of all past Headmasters stared down at her. "I need some advice. Dumbledore, or any of you, really. Hogwarts castle is bleeding. What do I do?"
Not surprisingly, it was Dumbledore who answered. "This school was built on the foundation of an agreement between four wizards: Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw. It was built combining their four talents, their four magics." Dumbledore sighed. "This battle has succeeded in tearing apart that great collaboration. Only the students of three Houses defended the castle. There's been a rift in the connection between Houses, and thus Hogwarts is torn open. You have to heal this rift before the castle can heal itself."
There was a harsh bark of laughter that could hardly be called mirthful. Minerva turned to give the source a glare. "I don't see you offering suggestions, Severus."
Snape flicked back a long greasy strand of hair. "Dumbledore, do you really believe the other houses are going to simply accept Slytherin back into their open arms? How is she supposed to inspire this miraculous fountain of goodwill?"
"By promoting inter-House activities," Dumbledore returned, unfazed.
Snape snorted. "Brilliant. Good luck, Headmistress." Even as a small portrait on the wall, he managed somehow to took down his nose at Minerva. She pointedly ignored him, and turned back to Dumbledore.
"Inter-House activities," she repeated, thinking furiously. There were some reasons for the House system; they'd had similar discussions before. But there were also flaws in the system. Competition too easily became enmity. Therefore, she would have to eliminate competition between Houses . . . and perhaps encourage a different kind of competition. Through cooperation. "Games," she said in a low voice. Several Gryffindor ex-headmasters nodded in agreement. That was a language they understood.
Dumbledore clapped his hands in delight. "Goodwill Games!"
"It's not going to be as easy as all that," Snape persisted.
But nobody was paying him much mind.
***
May 9th, 1998, The Burrow
The Burrow had never been as quiet as this. As Harry stood in front of a mirror, adjusting his black tie, surveying himself in his black robes, he imagined he could hear a pin drop. Or at least, he told himself so. There were a few muted sounds from downstairs; Molly Weasley tidying up the kitchen, the soft rustle of Mr. Weasley reading the Daily Prophet . . . but conspicuously missing was the sound of Ron arguing with his siblings. Especially, the twins, and their antics.
Today was Fred Weasley's funeral.
Finishing up with his attire, Harry headed downstairs to the breakfast nook. The entire family was dressed in black, the finest things they owned. Ron was poking at a bowl full of mush, stirring it around with apparently no intention of eating it. Charlie and Percy were sitting together drinking tea, and Fleur and Ginny were helping Mrs. Weasley dry the dishes, with little or no talk between them. Ginny stared at Harry with lost eyes, beseechingly. Harry turned away. He didn't want to talk to her. He'd been victorious, but what a hollow victory it felt like today.
Mr. Weasley sighed and set down the paper, and Harry suspected he hadn't even really looked at it. He was trying to put on a brave face, but Harry could see tears sparkling in his eyes. Ron snatched up the paper to have a look at it. He read quietly for a moment, then suddenly, he gave a shout. "What the bloody hell?!"
"What is it?" Harry asked the question first, but it was echoed by Ginny and Charlie, the three of them leaning in to try and read the headlines. Mr. Weasley suddenly stood up, making a hasty excuse, and left the room. Harry watched him with confusion, wondering what was up.
Ron scanned the paper, his face going red with anger. "They've bloody done it. The sodding idiots at the Ministry have pardoned all those Slytherin scum who wouldn't fight with us. Hell, more than half of them were probably outside the castle helping their Death Eater parents!" He threw down the paper, looking disgusted.
Reaching over, Charlie read the article aloud. "It was decided that these young, impressionable wizards and witches deserved a second chance . . . bla bla . . . hmm." He set down the paper. "Apparently both Shacklebolt and McGonagall supported this decision. Odd." He didn't appear as angry, only tired and resigned. Ron gave a humph.
Ginny flipped her hair back. "Lying snakes, the lot of them. They probably cried and made a terrible fuss. McGonagall's always been a softie when it came to tears."
Molly tutted her daughter. "Mind the dishes, Ginny. It's not our business any longer." That immediately put an end to the discussion, as they went back to tidying.
For Harry's part, he wasn't sure what to think. On the one hand it did seem rather light, not to hold students who were technically of legal age responsible for their choices and actions. Yet on the other hand, he remembered Draco's face, the night that Ron, Hermione and Harry had been captured, when Hermione had hexed his face to disguise him. If he didn't know better, he'd have said Draco had been trying to help hide his identity. Otherwise, the old Draco he'd known would have crowed at the sight of Hermione and Ron. He would have seen through the deception.
Draco had apparently been too frightened to leave even if he didn't really want to help the Death Eaters. How many others in his House had been in similar circumstances?
Slowly, Harry reached over and picked up the paper. He perused the article, which featured a picture of none other than the Malfoy family, with Lucius looking proud, Narcissa looking relieved, and Draco not looking at the camera, apparently embarrassed to be there at all. Further down in the article it also mentioned that Lucius had pleaded that he had been coerced with the threat of death to himself and his family if he did not do as Lord Voldemort had said, and had been forced against his will to house the Dark Lord. He'd been granted house arrest for five years. That rankled a bit more than the pardon of Slytherin students. Harry sighed, and left the paper in his chair, leaving his breakfast to wander outside.
A moment later, Ginny appeared at his side. Harry repressed the urge to move away; she'd been doing that a lot, hovering near him, throwing hopeful looks his way, ever since the final battle. She was obviously looking for a sign that they were ready to continue things. What was he supposed to do--take her upstairs and snog the daylights out of her while her whole family mourned Fred? The whole idea just sickened him at the moment. It was too soon. And somehow, in all those months trying to find the Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort, he'd realised just how little they had in common. He'd barely even thought of her.
That couldn't be right.
He flinched as Ginny put a hand on his arm. "Ginny--" He shook his head, as she looked at him questioningly. "Not now."
"When?" she asked. She looked lost, alone. Harry felt like a complete heel.
"I'll tell you when," he told her. Perhaps after the funeral they could talk. Perhaps tomorrow.
Perhaps a year from now when the pain had muted somewhat.
Charlie appeared at the doorway. "It's time to go." He put an arm around Ginny's shoulder and gave Harry a sad smile and a nod. Harry's chest felt so heavy, it was a wonder he could stand at all.
George had finally emerged from his bedroom. He wore black, as expected, but then he'd also taken the trouble to attach just about every joke pin and button to his lapels as he could fit, including a daisy which shot sneezing serum and a pinwheel which played the theme song for the Chudley Cannons. At everyone's stares, he gave a teary smile.
"Fred wouldn't have wanted his funeral to be boring, after all," he said. His pockets looked like they were bulging. Harry was afraid to ponder what little inventions George was taking along to help 'liven up' the proceedings. At least he seemed to be coming out of his gloom.
Harry avoided the daisy, and leaned in to give George a hug. He smiled back. "No, he wouldn't have wanted that. He'd have wanted it to be something memorable."
George winked.
***
September 1, 1998, Hogwarts Castle
It was crowded in the Great Hall of Hogwarts Castle, the place awash in the din of returning students all trying to talk at once. Three of the tables were overcrowded with returning students; not only the customary seven years of students, but also a large number repeating their seventh year after the catastrophe that had been the year Snape was Headmaster, and all the dark wizards and their influence. Only one table seemed a bit lean, a bit quiet. Only about two thirds of the Slytherin House had returned.
Harry suspected many had transferred to Durmstrang or other European wizarding schools.
However there was at least one Slytherin there that Harry recognised, and interestingly enough, he wasn't surrounded by friends or holding his customary court. Draco Malfoy instead was seated almost at the end of the table, by himself. His head was down and it almost seemed he was seeking to blend in with the wall, by the way his shoulders were hunched and his blond bangs hung into his eyes. Harry looked around for Gregory Goyle, and found him sitting with Blaise and Pansy several feet away. They spoke in low tones, and didn't look at Draco. Interesting, Harry thought.
Draco looked up suddenly, his eyes going straight to Harry. Harry felt an unexpected jolt go through him. Draco still appeared thin, though he no longer had the circles under his eyes, and his hair had been trimmed in the back while the bangs were left long, framing his face. He'd grown a little over the summer as well, and his shoulders had filled out. Harry felt a peculiar heat at the back of his neck, and realised he was staring. Quickly, he looked down to his food. He should be used to the stares, right? And it wasn't as if Draco hadn't thrown him looks before. But something about this look felt . . . different. Almost as if Draco wanted something from him.
McGonagall stepped up to the podium and raised her hands for silence. For a moment the chattering continued, until Hagrid bellowed, "LET THE HEADMISTRESS SPEAK!"
McGonagall smiled. "Thank you, Hagrid. For all the students new to Hogwarts this year, let me introduce myself. I am Minerva McGonagall, and I am the new Headmistress of this school. I see among you a large number of returning students as well, and for this I am most pleased. Those of you who attended the school last year know that we had a rough time of it. Why, it was in this very castle that the final battle against the dark wizard Voldemort took place, and some of you students even took part in the fight to defend this historic landmark. You will note, as you walk around the school to your classes, that there is still extensive damage to the castle. I assure you that we are hard at work on repairs. But I need your help. Hogwarts needs your help."
That got everyone's attention. Harry glanced at Hermione and Ron, wondering if they knew anything about this, but Hermione only shrugged. Harry looked up at the ceiling, showing a dark cloudy sky and the customary floating candles. The Great Hall looked intact. But he could feel something of what McGonagall was describing, a sort of chill in the air. Hogwarts was damaged. Somehow he knew it.
McGonagall continued. "Yes, you heard me right. As some of you may know, this is a living entity, this castle, designed by the four heads who founded the school: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Their combined magics created the castle. You can see the effects sometimes that this life energy has on Hogwarts through the moving staircases, the ceiling here in the Great Hall, and the fact we have quite a few ghosts and magical paintings. There are deeper secrets, but we need not go into them. Just suffice it to know that this is a living, breathing castle. And it is wounded."
Deeper secrets like the Chamber of Secrets, and the Room of Requirement, Harry thought to himself. And he knew the Room of Requirement had probably been destroyed by Crabbe's Fiendfyre. What effect would something like that have on the castle? Especially a castle where rooms could move about.
"Therefore," McGonagall said, "We will not be holding the usual House Cup activities this year. According to past Headmasters, part of the reason for these wounds which are not healing is that there is a rift between houses, in particular between Slytherin and the other Houses. I have decided to break everyone into teams, with mixed House members. Each team will take part in games and contests to earn points. We will have Quidditch matches, but again, the teams are going to be of mixed Houses. I am calling these the Goodwill Games. And I expect all of you to participate. We need to open our arms to our Slytherin schoolmates, and give them a second chance. It's time to break down old barriers. It's time to mend old rivalries."
Uh oh, Harry thought. That sounded ominous. Games with Slytherins? And how would they all be paired? What about the dorms?
He along with half of Hogwarts raised their hands to ask questions (or began shouting questions), but McGonagall wasn't finished. She cast a silencing spell on the tables, and rapped her wand on the podium to maintain attention. "After the Sorting of the new students, I will break you all into groups of between four and seven students--since there are fewer Slytherin students this year, it may be only one from that house in each group. You will all continue to live in the same dormitories you always have, and you will continue to have classes with your House and one other, just as we always have. When you earn points for good behaviour and when you lose points as well, they will be taken from your team. At the end of the year we will award the winning team medals, one team for each year. I wish you all good luck."
She ended the silencing spell, and the Hall broke into raucous chatter, everyone wondering who they'd be teamed up with, wondering what the games would be, and Quidditch! The thought of having mixed House teams . . . Harry shook his head, both impressed and doubtful. Slytherin House had always done a miserable job at being anyone's friend. Perhaps McGonagall and Slughorn could change that. Perhaps not.
The Slytherin table was just as rowdy as the rest of the Houses, students protesting the idea. They just wanted to be left alone, Harry heard from Pansy Parkinson, and beside her, Blaise was just shrugging and looking enigmatic as usual. Draco hadn't raised his head the entire time McGonagall was speaking. He was still trying to be invisible, Harry reckoned. Harry almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
McGonagall called for quiet again, and Hagrid stood up again, but before he could bellow for silence, the students quieted themselves. McGonagall smiled at Hagrid, then turned to indicate the staff seated at the table behind her. "Now, before we do the Sorting, I would like to introduce a few new teachers we have for you this year. Professor Burnbaum will be our new Professor of Muggle Studies." She indicated a man wearing a three piece suit with a bow tie, who, if his Muggle fashion sense gave any indication, was about as qualified to teach about Muggles as Professor Flitwick or Trelawney.
Harry noticed an empty seat beside Burnbaum. McGongall cleared her throat, looking pleased. "I am going to be very busy this year with my new duties as Headmistress, but I do plan on continuing the upper classes for Transfiguration, until we can find a suitable replacement. And for our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher . . ." She paused, and from doors of the Great Hall, a red-headed witch appeared, bustling her way down to greet the Headmistress, wearing a shawl and housedress and no-nonsense shoes that Harry was far too familiar with. Beside him, Ron turned sheet white and squeaked.
"I present to you our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Molly Weasley."
Ginny groaned. Ron fainted.
Hermione and Harry rushed to try and rouse him, dabbing his face with some water, while Hermione slapped his cheeks and called his name. Ron blinked, coming to, and then his eyes returned to the faculty table and he moaned. "This can't be happening," he said in a small, horrified voice.
Molly Weasley beamed, waving at everyone with her customary energy. "Oh good; I'm glad to see my son there coming to. I'm sorry, dear, but I wanted it to be a surprise!" She addressed the next words to the entire assemblage. "I'm Molly Weasley, and I've had now seven children as students at this school, but they're all out of the house now during the school year, and I thought being a teacher would be a wonderful way to pass the time."
"What does she know about Dark Arts?" Ginny whispered, looking almost as horrified as Ron.
McGonagall must have heard her, with her usual sharp senses. "Mrs. Weasley was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and fought personally against Death Eaters on several occasions, defending herself and her family against repeated attempts of Dark magic. She knows a lot more than most of us about this subject, so I'll expect your full cooperation in following her instruction. She even killed one of the most notorious Death Eaters, Bellatrix LeStrange."
Harry glanced at Draco, who scratched at his forearm as if it itched him. Harry frowned.
Ron didn't notice; he was still holding his head in his hands. "My mum's going to be my teacher. Just shoot me now, please."
"Mine too! And we're going to be in the same year," Ginny whined. "Ugh!"
Harry and Hermione tried not to laugh, but it wasn't easy. It was going to be a very interesting year.
The Sorting then proceeded, and Harry wondered if he'd really looked that young and small sitting on the stool as the Hat proclaimed each child's House. There were cheers from the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws as they gained new members, but the Slytherin House was largely quiet each time a child was Sorted there. One little girl actually burst into tears, but to Harry's surprise, Pansy Parkinson came forward to take the girl's hand and lead her back, whispering something in her ear.
On the whole, it was a very strange Sorting.
After that, they were handed slips of paper, indicating their teams for the Goodwill Games, and dismissed to head over to their dorms. Each team was given a name of a fantastical creature. Harry looked at the names on his and groaned. How ironic. His team was the Horntails. And who should it include, but Draco Malfoy.
He watched as Draco crumpled his paper and threw it away, before flouncing out of the Great Hall.
Ron poked him, making faces at his sheet. "Who'd they pair you with?"
Harry sighed. "Who else? Draco Malfoy." He read the rest of the names. "But it looks like we also have Luna Lovegood. And get this--for the Hufflepuffs? Ernie MacMillan. And Hannah Abbot." He knew Ron remembered Ernie, who had been a member of Dumbledore's Army, and who before that had thought Harry was the Heir of Slytherin responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets. Ernie had also led one of the main charges in the defence of Hogwarts during the final battle. And Hannah's mum had been killed by Death Eaters. It would be interesting to say the least to see how they handled Draco.
"So basically she put all the leaders together, it looks like. And me? I've got Goyle. And Padma Patil. And Megan Jones. And Lavender Brown." He groaned. "It's like the Who's Who of who I dated--uh, with the exception of Goyle, of course." Ron looked miserable.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Be a good chance for you to improve relations with them. And who do you think she paired me with? Pansy Parkinson, of course! And we've got Zacharias Smith, which should be interesting, and Terry Boot. But I suppose I should be grateful. Ginny's on Blaise Zabini's team." She looked apologetically at Ginny, who just shrugged.
Harry waited for the surge of jealousy to come, because everybody knew that Blaise was sex on legs and went after just about anything that moved. But he felt strangely detached about it. In fact there was almost a sort of . . . relief. He mentally shook his head at himself. "Well, it's only one year I guess. We'll survive it. As we always have." He smirked.
They stood up and began heading for the dorms. "It's my mum that may kill us," Ron whispered, as they followed Mrs. Weasley--now also Head of Gryffindor--up the stairs.
Harry had to agree.
***
To:
Author:
Pairing: Harry/Draco
Rating: NC-17/Adult
Wordcount: 24,730 words, divided into four parts; I will post one part a day until all four parts have been posted.
Warnings: Spoilers for Deathly Hallows, oral, graphic m/m sex
Summary: In order to heal Hogwarts, the other Houses must learn to embrace Slytherin. Harry takes this somewhat literally.
Request: "Snape as mentor to Draco and irritation to Harry. I don’t mind if he’s alive or not – a portrait Snape might be fun. Smut is highly appreciated, but just a sexy kiss will do if that’s not your thing. I adore UST, post-war fics set in Hogwarts (boys back to finish/repeat their final year), awkward but sweet first time sex. A mix of fluff, humour and angst would go down very nicely – happy ending please!"
Disclaimer: The characters in this fiction are the property of J.K. Rowling and not mine, sadly. That doesn't seem to have stopped anyone from using them in truly sick and demented ways. No money is being made from this.
A/N: This was written for the hds_beltane fic fest over on Livejournal. I tried to work in as many of the things requested as possible (socks!), and decided to keep to a post-DH setting at Hogwarts where I could still use a little infusion of Snape. Hope you enjoy! Thanks to my beta reader--you know who you are!
May 2nd, 1998, Hogwarts Castle
Minerva McGonagall stepped outside the castle into the cold grey dawn, a shawl wrapped around her frame to ward off the morning chill from the clouds obstructing the first pale beams of sunlight from the eastern hills. There were dark circles under her eyes; she'd barely slept at all last night, working to help heal those wounded from the battle, covering the bodies of the dead, and talking with Ministry officials in the account of Lord Voldemort's demise.
The first dawn of a new age. The war was over.
Most of the students had been sent home after the battle, though some of them were still around, sleeping in their dorm rooms, awaiting transportation that would take them home today. Among those were a few Muggle-born who had come during the battle to assist, though most had been taken into the detention camps.
So many things to heal. Too many to mourn.
She bent over to pick up a piece of rose-coloured glass from one of the castle windows, smashed during the battle last night. The castle was sturdy, but it had taken quite a beating. Today would begin the daunting task of cleaning everything up, making repairs. She looked up as a great shadow fell over her. "Ah, Hagrid. Good to see you up and moving."
Hagrid looked about as bad as Minerva felt. His beard was tangled and full of ash, dust, and tears. And blood, though none of it his own. "Hi there, Prof--I mean eh--Headmaster--eh--err--what do I call ye, now?"
The teachers last night had unanimously elected her as the new Headmistress. It was a foregone decision really, with her years of devotion to the school. She granted Hagrid a small smile. "Please, just call me Minerva, Hagrid. I think it would be simpler."
Hagrid nodded. "Well a belated Happy Beltane to ye, Pr--Minerva, I mean. I expect you'll be wanting my help today to get this mess cleaned up?"
Minerva looked around at the rubble on the ground. The bodies had been cleared away, but there were still scraps of robes, puddles which might be blood . . . "Indeed," she said softly. Hagrid would be able to lift some of the larger things. She would survey the damage. Then she would try to come up with a way to fix everything. Damage like this hadn't occurred to the castle in--well, she wasn't sure if the castle had ever sustained damage like this. She sighed. "Best start with some of the debris near the walls, Hagrid. I'll have to inspect the damage and see what repairs need to be made."
It would probably be hours before Slughorn was up and moving. Professor Flitwick was already having a look at the interior of the castle, looking for any bodies they'd missed, any remaining traps or spells left by the Death Eaters. Madame Pomfrey was in charge of the remaining students. For the moment, it was just her and Hagrid, walking the grounds.
She left Hagrid to his inspections and began walking on her own, softly tutting as she passed by shards of red and yellow-coloured glass--that had been a spectacular stained glass window of a sunrise, and she doubted it would be the same again. "Reparo," she said, pointing her wand at the pieces. Nothing happened. Somehow, she had known it would be that way. This would not be a simple fix with spells.
Perhaps the Goblins would be able to assist, she mused, although they would undoubtedly be busy with their own repairs on Gringotts. There would be a price to pay to involve them, she was sure. Minerva was reaching down to collect a bit of the glass when she heard Hagrid shouting.
"Professor--Minerva! Headmistress! You have to see this," Hagrid bellowed, and Minerva picked up her robes and almost ran towards him, thinking perhaps he'd found another body, or (more hopefully) a survivor from the castle. When she reached him, he was bent over a large hole smashed in the side of the castle by one of the giants, and there was blood on his hands.
"Where's the body? Are they still alive?" She asked, looking around at the rubble. She noticed something peculiar; there was blood along the edges of the hole in the wall, dripping down in a slow steady stream. It almost looked like the castle was bleeding.
Hagrid was trying to wipe his hands clean. "There's no body, McGonagall, and that's the frightening thing of it. I wouldn't be yelling the place down if there were. But look at all this blood, will you? It looks to be coming from the castle itself! Isn't that the strangest thing you ever saw?"
Minerva looked closer, running her fingertip along the break in the wall. There seemed to be veins in the grey stone. The blood was warm. "Dumbledore always said the castle was partially sentient . . ." And what did this mean? If they couldn't use magic to repair things and they couldn't just rebuild, then where did that leave them? "I need to ask him. Wait here. Don't touch anything."
She left Hagrid standing there and hurried into the castle, towards the Headmaster's office--now hers. It still responded to the old password, as she hadn't yet had time to change it. Inside, the photos of all past Headmasters stared down at her. "I need some advice. Dumbledore, or any of you, really. Hogwarts castle is bleeding. What do I do?"
Not surprisingly, it was Dumbledore who answered. "This school was built on the foundation of an agreement between four wizards: Salazar Slytherin, Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, and Rowena Ravenclaw. It was built combining their four talents, their four magics." Dumbledore sighed. "This battle has succeeded in tearing apart that great collaboration. Only the students of three Houses defended the castle. There's been a rift in the connection between Houses, and thus Hogwarts is torn open. You have to heal this rift before the castle can heal itself."
There was a harsh bark of laughter that could hardly be called mirthful. Minerva turned to give the source a glare. "I don't see you offering suggestions, Severus."
Snape flicked back a long greasy strand of hair. "Dumbledore, do you really believe the other houses are going to simply accept Slytherin back into their open arms? How is she supposed to inspire this miraculous fountain of goodwill?"
"By promoting inter-House activities," Dumbledore returned, unfazed.
Snape snorted. "Brilliant. Good luck, Headmistress." Even as a small portrait on the wall, he managed somehow to took down his nose at Minerva. She pointedly ignored him, and turned back to Dumbledore.
"Inter-House activities," she repeated, thinking furiously. There were some reasons for the House system; they'd had similar discussions before. But there were also flaws in the system. Competition too easily became enmity. Therefore, she would have to eliminate competition between Houses . . . and perhaps encourage a different kind of competition. Through cooperation. "Games," she said in a low voice. Several Gryffindor ex-headmasters nodded in agreement. That was a language they understood.
Dumbledore clapped his hands in delight. "Goodwill Games!"
"It's not going to be as easy as all that," Snape persisted.
But nobody was paying him much mind.
***
May 9th, 1998, The Burrow
The Burrow had never been as quiet as this. As Harry stood in front of a mirror, adjusting his black tie, surveying himself in his black robes, he imagined he could hear a pin drop. Or at least, he told himself so. There were a few muted sounds from downstairs; Molly Weasley tidying up the kitchen, the soft rustle of Mr. Weasley reading the Daily Prophet . . . but conspicuously missing was the sound of Ron arguing with his siblings. Especially, the twins, and their antics.
Today was Fred Weasley's funeral.
Finishing up with his attire, Harry headed downstairs to the breakfast nook. The entire family was dressed in black, the finest things they owned. Ron was poking at a bowl full of mush, stirring it around with apparently no intention of eating it. Charlie and Percy were sitting together drinking tea, and Fleur and Ginny were helping Mrs. Weasley dry the dishes, with little or no talk between them. Ginny stared at Harry with lost eyes, beseechingly. Harry turned away. He didn't want to talk to her. He'd been victorious, but what a hollow victory it felt like today.
Mr. Weasley sighed and set down the paper, and Harry suspected he hadn't even really looked at it. He was trying to put on a brave face, but Harry could see tears sparkling in his eyes. Ron snatched up the paper to have a look at it. He read quietly for a moment, then suddenly, he gave a shout. "What the bloody hell?!"
"What is it?" Harry asked the question first, but it was echoed by Ginny and Charlie, the three of them leaning in to try and read the headlines. Mr. Weasley suddenly stood up, making a hasty excuse, and left the room. Harry watched him with confusion, wondering what was up.
Ron scanned the paper, his face going red with anger. "They've bloody done it. The sodding idiots at the Ministry have pardoned all those Slytherin scum who wouldn't fight with us. Hell, more than half of them were probably outside the castle helping their Death Eater parents!" He threw down the paper, looking disgusted.
Reaching over, Charlie read the article aloud. "It was decided that these young, impressionable wizards and witches deserved a second chance . . . bla bla . . . hmm." He set down the paper. "Apparently both Shacklebolt and McGonagall supported this decision. Odd." He didn't appear as angry, only tired and resigned. Ron gave a humph.
Ginny flipped her hair back. "Lying snakes, the lot of them. They probably cried and made a terrible fuss. McGonagall's always been a softie when it came to tears."
Molly tutted her daughter. "Mind the dishes, Ginny. It's not our business any longer." That immediately put an end to the discussion, as they went back to tidying.
For Harry's part, he wasn't sure what to think. On the one hand it did seem rather light, not to hold students who were technically of legal age responsible for their choices and actions. Yet on the other hand, he remembered Draco's face, the night that Ron, Hermione and Harry had been captured, when Hermione had hexed his face to disguise him. If he didn't know better, he'd have said Draco had been trying to help hide his identity. Otherwise, the old Draco he'd known would have crowed at the sight of Hermione and Ron. He would have seen through the deception.
Draco had apparently been too frightened to leave even if he didn't really want to help the Death Eaters. How many others in his House had been in similar circumstances?
Slowly, Harry reached over and picked up the paper. He perused the article, which featured a picture of none other than the Malfoy family, with Lucius looking proud, Narcissa looking relieved, and Draco not looking at the camera, apparently embarrassed to be there at all. Further down in the article it also mentioned that Lucius had pleaded that he had been coerced with the threat of death to himself and his family if he did not do as Lord Voldemort had said, and had been forced against his will to house the Dark Lord. He'd been granted house arrest for five years. That rankled a bit more than the pardon of Slytherin students. Harry sighed, and left the paper in his chair, leaving his breakfast to wander outside.
A moment later, Ginny appeared at his side. Harry repressed the urge to move away; she'd been doing that a lot, hovering near him, throwing hopeful looks his way, ever since the final battle. She was obviously looking for a sign that they were ready to continue things. What was he supposed to do--take her upstairs and snog the daylights out of her while her whole family mourned Fred? The whole idea just sickened him at the moment. It was too soon. And somehow, in all those months trying to find the Horcruxes and defeat Voldemort, he'd realised just how little they had in common. He'd barely even thought of her.
That couldn't be right.
He flinched as Ginny put a hand on his arm. "Ginny--" He shook his head, as she looked at him questioningly. "Not now."
"When?" she asked. She looked lost, alone. Harry felt like a complete heel.
"I'll tell you when," he told her. Perhaps after the funeral they could talk. Perhaps tomorrow.
Perhaps a year from now when the pain had muted somewhat.
Charlie appeared at the doorway. "It's time to go." He put an arm around Ginny's shoulder and gave Harry a sad smile and a nod. Harry's chest felt so heavy, it was a wonder he could stand at all.
George had finally emerged from his bedroom. He wore black, as expected, but then he'd also taken the trouble to attach just about every joke pin and button to his lapels as he could fit, including a daisy which shot sneezing serum and a pinwheel which played the theme song for the Chudley Cannons. At everyone's stares, he gave a teary smile.
"Fred wouldn't have wanted his funeral to be boring, after all," he said. His pockets looked like they were bulging. Harry was afraid to ponder what little inventions George was taking along to help 'liven up' the proceedings. At least he seemed to be coming out of his gloom.
Harry avoided the daisy, and leaned in to give George a hug. He smiled back. "No, he wouldn't have wanted that. He'd have wanted it to be something memorable."
George winked.
***
September 1, 1998, Hogwarts Castle
It was crowded in the Great Hall of Hogwarts Castle, the place awash in the din of returning students all trying to talk at once. Three of the tables were overcrowded with returning students; not only the customary seven years of students, but also a large number repeating their seventh year after the catastrophe that had been the year Snape was Headmaster, and all the dark wizards and their influence. Only one table seemed a bit lean, a bit quiet. Only about two thirds of the Slytherin House had returned.
Harry suspected many had transferred to Durmstrang or other European wizarding schools.
However there was at least one Slytherin there that Harry recognised, and interestingly enough, he wasn't surrounded by friends or holding his customary court. Draco Malfoy instead was seated almost at the end of the table, by himself. His head was down and it almost seemed he was seeking to blend in with the wall, by the way his shoulders were hunched and his blond bangs hung into his eyes. Harry looked around for Gregory Goyle, and found him sitting with Blaise and Pansy several feet away. They spoke in low tones, and didn't look at Draco. Interesting, Harry thought.
Draco looked up suddenly, his eyes going straight to Harry. Harry felt an unexpected jolt go through him. Draco still appeared thin, though he no longer had the circles under his eyes, and his hair had been trimmed in the back while the bangs were left long, framing his face. He'd grown a little over the summer as well, and his shoulders had filled out. Harry felt a peculiar heat at the back of his neck, and realised he was staring. Quickly, he looked down to his food. He should be used to the stares, right? And it wasn't as if Draco hadn't thrown him looks before. But something about this look felt . . . different. Almost as if Draco wanted something from him.
McGonagall stepped up to the podium and raised her hands for silence. For a moment the chattering continued, until Hagrid bellowed, "LET THE HEADMISTRESS SPEAK!"
McGonagall smiled. "Thank you, Hagrid. For all the students new to Hogwarts this year, let me introduce myself. I am Minerva McGonagall, and I am the new Headmistress of this school. I see among you a large number of returning students as well, and for this I am most pleased. Those of you who attended the school last year know that we had a rough time of it. Why, it was in this very castle that the final battle against the dark wizard Voldemort took place, and some of you students even took part in the fight to defend this historic landmark. You will note, as you walk around the school to your classes, that there is still extensive damage to the castle. I assure you that we are hard at work on repairs. But I need your help. Hogwarts needs your help."
That got everyone's attention. Harry glanced at Hermione and Ron, wondering if they knew anything about this, but Hermione only shrugged. Harry looked up at the ceiling, showing a dark cloudy sky and the customary floating candles. The Great Hall looked intact. But he could feel something of what McGonagall was describing, a sort of chill in the air. Hogwarts was damaged. Somehow he knew it.
McGonagall continued. "Yes, you heard me right. As some of you may know, this is a living entity, this castle, designed by the four heads who founded the school: Godric Gryffindor, Helga Hufflepuff, Rowena Ravenclaw, and Salazar Slytherin. Their combined magics created the castle. You can see the effects sometimes that this life energy has on Hogwarts through the moving staircases, the ceiling here in the Great Hall, and the fact we have quite a few ghosts and magical paintings. There are deeper secrets, but we need not go into them. Just suffice it to know that this is a living, breathing castle. And it is wounded."
Deeper secrets like the Chamber of Secrets, and the Room of Requirement, Harry thought to himself. And he knew the Room of Requirement had probably been destroyed by Crabbe's Fiendfyre. What effect would something like that have on the castle? Especially a castle where rooms could move about.
"Therefore," McGonagall said, "We will not be holding the usual House Cup activities this year. According to past Headmasters, part of the reason for these wounds which are not healing is that there is a rift between houses, in particular between Slytherin and the other Houses. I have decided to break everyone into teams, with mixed House members. Each team will take part in games and contests to earn points. We will have Quidditch matches, but again, the teams are going to be of mixed Houses. I am calling these the Goodwill Games. And I expect all of you to participate. We need to open our arms to our Slytherin schoolmates, and give them a second chance. It's time to break down old barriers. It's time to mend old rivalries."
Uh oh, Harry thought. That sounded ominous. Games with Slytherins? And how would they all be paired? What about the dorms?
He along with half of Hogwarts raised their hands to ask questions (or began shouting questions), but McGonagall wasn't finished. She cast a silencing spell on the tables, and rapped her wand on the podium to maintain attention. "After the Sorting of the new students, I will break you all into groups of between four and seven students--since there are fewer Slytherin students this year, it may be only one from that house in each group. You will all continue to live in the same dormitories you always have, and you will continue to have classes with your House and one other, just as we always have. When you earn points for good behaviour and when you lose points as well, they will be taken from your team. At the end of the year we will award the winning team medals, one team for each year. I wish you all good luck."
She ended the silencing spell, and the Hall broke into raucous chatter, everyone wondering who they'd be teamed up with, wondering what the games would be, and Quidditch! The thought of having mixed House teams . . . Harry shook his head, both impressed and doubtful. Slytherin House had always done a miserable job at being anyone's friend. Perhaps McGonagall and Slughorn could change that. Perhaps not.
The Slytherin table was just as rowdy as the rest of the Houses, students protesting the idea. They just wanted to be left alone, Harry heard from Pansy Parkinson, and beside her, Blaise was just shrugging and looking enigmatic as usual. Draco hadn't raised his head the entire time McGonagall was speaking. He was still trying to be invisible, Harry reckoned. Harry almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
McGonagall called for quiet again, and Hagrid stood up again, but before he could bellow for silence, the students quieted themselves. McGonagall smiled at Hagrid, then turned to indicate the staff seated at the table behind her. "Now, before we do the Sorting, I would like to introduce a few new teachers we have for you this year. Professor Burnbaum will be our new Professor of Muggle Studies." She indicated a man wearing a three piece suit with a bow tie, who, if his Muggle fashion sense gave any indication, was about as qualified to teach about Muggles as Professor Flitwick or Trelawney.
Harry noticed an empty seat beside Burnbaum. McGongall cleared her throat, looking pleased. "I am going to be very busy this year with my new duties as Headmistress, but I do plan on continuing the upper classes for Transfiguration, until we can find a suitable replacement. And for our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher . . ." She paused, and from doors of the Great Hall, a red-headed witch appeared, bustling her way down to greet the Headmistress, wearing a shawl and housedress and no-nonsense shoes that Harry was far too familiar with. Beside him, Ron turned sheet white and squeaked.
"I present to you our new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Molly Weasley."
Ginny groaned. Ron fainted.
Hermione and Harry rushed to try and rouse him, dabbing his face with some water, while Hermione slapped his cheeks and called his name. Ron blinked, coming to, and then his eyes returned to the faculty table and he moaned. "This can't be happening," he said in a small, horrified voice.
Molly Weasley beamed, waving at everyone with her customary energy. "Oh good; I'm glad to see my son there coming to. I'm sorry, dear, but I wanted it to be a surprise!" She addressed the next words to the entire assemblage. "I'm Molly Weasley, and I've had now seven children as students at this school, but they're all out of the house now during the school year, and I thought being a teacher would be a wonderful way to pass the time."
"What does she know about Dark Arts?" Ginny whispered, looking almost as horrified as Ron.
McGonagall must have heard her, with her usual sharp senses. "Mrs. Weasley was a member of the Order of the Phoenix, and fought personally against Death Eaters on several occasions, defending herself and her family against repeated attempts of Dark magic. She knows a lot more than most of us about this subject, so I'll expect your full cooperation in following her instruction. She even killed one of the most notorious Death Eaters, Bellatrix LeStrange."
Harry glanced at Draco, who scratched at his forearm as if it itched him. Harry frowned.
Ron didn't notice; he was still holding his head in his hands. "My mum's going to be my teacher. Just shoot me now, please."
"Mine too! And we're going to be in the same year," Ginny whined. "Ugh!"
Harry and Hermione tried not to laugh, but it wasn't easy. It was going to be a very interesting year.
The Sorting then proceeded, and Harry wondered if he'd really looked that young and small sitting on the stool as the Hat proclaimed each child's House. There were cheers from the Gryffindors and Ravenclaws as they gained new members, but the Slytherin House was largely quiet each time a child was Sorted there. One little girl actually burst into tears, but to Harry's surprise, Pansy Parkinson came forward to take the girl's hand and lead her back, whispering something in her ear.
On the whole, it was a very strange Sorting.
After that, they were handed slips of paper, indicating their teams for the Goodwill Games, and dismissed to head over to their dorms. Each team was given a name of a fantastical creature. Harry looked at the names on his and groaned. How ironic. His team was the Horntails. And who should it include, but Draco Malfoy.
He watched as Draco crumpled his paper and threw it away, before flouncing out of the Great Hall.
Ron poked him, making faces at his sheet. "Who'd they pair you with?"
Harry sighed. "Who else? Draco Malfoy." He read the rest of the names. "But it looks like we also have Luna Lovegood. And get this--for the Hufflepuffs? Ernie MacMillan. And Hannah Abbot." He knew Ron remembered Ernie, who had been a member of Dumbledore's Army, and who before that had thought Harry was the Heir of Slytherin responsible for opening the Chamber of Secrets. Ernie had also led one of the main charges in the defence of Hogwarts during the final battle. And Hannah's mum had been killed by Death Eaters. It would be interesting to say the least to see how they handled Draco.
"So basically she put all the leaders together, it looks like. And me? I've got Goyle. And Padma Patil. And Megan Jones. And Lavender Brown." He groaned. "It's like the Who's Who of who I dated--uh, with the exception of Goyle, of course." Ron looked miserable.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Be a good chance for you to improve relations with them. And who do you think she paired me with? Pansy Parkinson, of course! And we've got Zacharias Smith, which should be interesting, and Terry Boot. But I suppose I should be grateful. Ginny's on Blaise Zabini's team." She looked apologetically at Ginny, who just shrugged.
Harry waited for the surge of jealousy to come, because everybody knew that Blaise was sex on legs and went after just about anything that moved. But he felt strangely detached about it. In fact there was almost a sort of . . . relief. He mentally shook his head at himself. "Well, it's only one year I guess. We'll survive it. As we always have." He smirked.
They stood up and began heading for the dorms. "It's my mum that may kill us," Ron whispered, as they followed Mrs. Weasley--now also Head of Gryffindor--up the stairs.
Harry had to agree.
***