The 8th Year [HP] (xjynx & lia)

[xjynx]

Harry Potter

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Harry looked around his (now empty) room. His things were packed into his school trunk. He was back at Grimauld Place. It was strange to be going back to school; it wasn't that he didn't want to go, but he felt the need to be outside on alert, under the invisibility cloak, something. But those urges were unnecessary. He wasn't completely safe, of course he wasn't, but he was less likely to be killed than he ever had been in his life. To be honest, it was weird.

There were a last few items sitting on his bed. Among them were the mirror shard from Sirius' mirror and Hagrid's photo album. But there was one more thing: a wand. It was not his wand, nor did he want it to be. Rather, it was Draco Malfoy's wand, that he had obtained during his would-have-been 7th year. Harry had no use for Draco's wand, and he actually felt slightly guilty for having it.

Harry slid off of the bed, picking up the items that had been lying there. The mirror went into the pouch around his neck, the photo album into his school trunk, but he hung onto the wand. It felt comfortable in his hand, not quite as much so as his own, but it's weight was pleasant. He spun it once and stuck it in his pocket alongside his own. Yes, he knew he might accidentally blow a whole in his jeans, but he wasn't really that worried.

He made his way through the empty house (using magic to float his trunk along behind him.) He was to meet Ron and Hermione at King's Cross. And though it had been only a few weeks since seeing them, he had grown lonely without their constant presence.

A while later, Harry was standing on platform 9 and three-quarters searching the crowd for a familiar face.

 

[Lia]

(I'm ignoring the fact that the Mark is on the wrong arm and saying this was a mirror image >.>)

Conflicting. That was an appropriate word for the emotions that had been rolling around his chest and torso for the past several weeks. Months. Years. All of the above.

The end of the war came and went, and Draco and his family were never going to be the same. Not that he expected that they would be. Not really. There had been a time when he was much younger that he had held such grandiose ideals. He had thought, as a young boy and even a young man, that The Dark Lord would win the war and, because of his father's loyalty and hard work, riches and spoils and fame would be bestowed upon them. Those dreams were dashed during the summer between his fifth and sixth year, of course. There would be no fame or golden spotlight upon the Malfoy family. Ever.

They had done nothing, in the end. They hadn't fought on either side, instead preserving themselves as best they could. Of course, the Wizarding world at large hadn't seen it that way, not that any of the Malfoys had expected them to. His father's trial was quick, and he was sentenced to a dozen years in Azkaban. That wasn't surprising. That Harry Potter had testified at Lucius' trial was, however. Draco thought that Potter's testimony was the only reason that Lucius wasn't handed a lifetime in the dank prison. At least it wasn't guarded by Dementors anymore... Lucius had a decent chance of keeping his mind and coming out somewhat mentally intact.

Draco knew, without a doubt, that it was Potter's testimony that saved himself and his mother from a prison sentence. Nothing, however, could have made himself and his mother return to the Manor, regardless of the sentimentality of his childhood home. The large building no longer felt like home. It felt cold and dank and dark. More Dark magic had been performed inside of the Manor in the past few years than all of the other centuries combined. After their trials, Draco and Narcissa had rented a penthouse flat in the middle of London. They chose a very open floor plan, with light colors and airy fabrics. The house elves had brought some of their possessions, but most had been left at the Manor.

While he and his mother had avoided Azkaban, they had both been sentenced. Narcissa to community service, serving two years as a volunteer at St. Mungo's, and Draco to help the rebuilding effort. Draco was also ordered to return to Hogwarts with the rest of those students who would have been in their seventh year with him to complete his NEWT testing. Which was why the blond was standing now in the middle of his bedroom suite, on the morning of September first, looking a bit lost. His trunk had been packed and transported already, the blond having long decided against taking the train with the other students. He had gotten permission from the headmistress to use her floo. Draco was debating going now and settling into the dorms, but even that thought was depressing. He knew that most, if not all, of his former housemates wouldn't be returning with him. There were a few possibilities, but Draco hadn't spoken to any of them. The other option was to mope around the house while his mother was at the hospital for her shift, and that didn't sound appealing either, for obvious reasons.

After another hour of debate, the former choice won out. "Headmistress' office, Hogwarts!" The blond stepped into the green flames and stepped out into a decidedly less cluttered office. McGonagall wasn't there, but he was sure that she had been alerted to his presence. With that in mind, Draco set out to find the witch.

It wasn't that difficult, really. McGonagall greeted him as warmly as could be expected for someone with his past, and directed him to a set of rooms, surprisingly, on the fifth floor. "The usual dorms don't offer the room we would need to house the students returning to complete their education from before the war," she explained. "We have added a set of rooms for all 'eighth year' students that will serve as your dorms. You will belong to no house, but will attend classes with the current seventh years based on the house you were in while in school." She walked with him to show him the way, offering the password to the portrait of Eirene, the Greek goddess of peace.

Inside was what would serve as a common room. The colors were rich, warm chocolates and soothing creams. A banner for each house hung on a wall. The room was circular, and there were six doors around the perimeter. "Two boys and girls dormitories each, with one loo for each gender as well," the witch explained. "The rest of the rules will be explained at the feast and you should find your trunk in the second boys dormitory." Draco nodded, thanking the headmistress as she left. The former Slytherin entered the dorm she had indicated, looking around. The color scheme was similar to the common area, for which Draco was grateful. His trunk was situated at the end of the first bed and he set to unpacking himself, noting that there were six other beds besides his own. If each room was similar, that meant that only twenty-eight students were opting to return for their eighth year which Draco found interesting.

It didn't take long to unpack and get settled. The afternoon sun was streaming through high windows in the room as the blond stretched out on his bed and closed his eyes to rest before what was sure to be an interesting evening.

 

[xjynx]

Harry spotted Ron and Hermione without much trouble. The problem was getting to them. Students young and old were trying to catch his attention. The thrill of him being the hero who took Voldemort down was still fresh. First year girls giggled in little groups and glanced at him, students he had only talked to once or twice were coming up to him. Harry didn't want to be rude, but he cut them off as quickly as he could and pushed his way to Ron and Hermione. Once with them, they found a compartment on the train, and closed the door.

They did their best to ignore the people stopping at the door just to look at them. "Didn't their parents tell them it's rude to stare," Ron grumbled under his breath at one point. Most people left them alone and didn't stare for too long. And, soon enough, the lunch trolley came by. With food in hand, the afternoon on the train passed much more quickly than the morning had. And before they knew it, the sky was darkening, robes were changed into, and the train was slowing.

Harry saw Hagrid's large form wading through the sea of people to greet the first years. He stopped for a moment to smile at Harry, Ron, and Hermione, then continued with his call of "First years, this way!"

The trio found a coach to themselves, and they were on their way to the castle. "I wonder where we'll be staying," Harry commented. He had been thinking of the Gryffindor common room, and the many days he had spent by the warm fire there. It was a second home to him, but he knew there probably wouldn't be space there for them. This 8th year was special.

"Dunno, mate," Ron replied shrugging. "Anyway, I'm starved–I can't wait to get to the feast." Harry felt his face twitch into a smile for a moment; some things never changed. The carriage halted, and the three got out and headed up to the great hall.

Harry wasn't sure what he had been expecting–no rubble, surely–but found himself surprised to see the castle mostly intact, the way it had been before the war. It was comforting in one way, and unsettling in another, but he didn't have time to think much about it as they were swept into the great hall for the feast.

 

[Lia]

The alarm that he had set for himself went off five minutes before the time he'd set it. The new wand he had bought in France after his trial was eleven and a quarter inches, a bit longer than his original, and was made of hemlock wood and had a core of Veela hair. It worked well for him, even though Veela hair was known to be somewhat temperamental. The hemlock evened that out, and helped to strengthen his potions, too.

The sun had begun to set now. Draco lit the torches before changing. The blond slid into charcoal cashmere trousers, and tucked in a starched, white cotton shirt. His Slytherin tie was slipped on and the collar fixed before his plain black robes were pulled on over the clothing, the fastenings of the robe left open. His shoes were black, and impeccably shined Italian leather. He fastened a silver tie pin that had the Malfoy crest pressed into the middle and fixed his hair, which he kept on the short side. Finally, after nearly forty five minutes, Draco was content with his appearance. It seemed he was just in time, too, because his secondary alarm sounded to alert him of the near arrival of the Thestral drawn carriages.

He took his time walking down to the Great Hall, and entered through the large double doors with the masses. There were some odd looks, and a lot of whispers. Draco kept his head high, though. He refused to allow anyone tell him that he shouldn't be there. The Ministry had said otherwise.

Draco took his seat at the Slytherin table, which was pathetically empty. It surprised him to see two of his old classmates walk in, though he kept a cautious mask as Blaise Zabini, Theo Nott and Daphne Greengrass strode in together. All three nodded to him, which he returned, and slid in either beside him or across. More whispers picked up around them, but all four resolutely ignored anything and everything that wasn't directly said to them. It would be better that way.

"I wonder how small the Slytherin house will be this year," Theo commented. Draco only shrugged. He'd been expecting to be the only Slytherin returning to finish their disrupted seventh year.

 

[xjynx]

Harry glanced down the Gryffindor table. He spotted Neville and Luna and Ginny; his stomach flipped a little at the sight of her. He had missed her–did miss her–but it didn't feel the same. Something in the months of the war had changed his gut feeling towards her, and he now saw her only as a friend. This information, he had imparted to neither Ginny nor Ron, but he had mentioned it to Hermione briefly. Harry glanced away from Ginny before she noticed him looking. Instead, he turned his gaze towards the other tables, looking for familiar faces and trying to ignore his stomach clenching as he saw friends or family of those he knew had died in the battle.

The Slytherin table was the last one he looked at. Compared to all the other houses, it was empty. He supposed it made sense given that many Slytherin's had sided with the Death Eaters or were Death Eaters, but he almost felt a surge of pity. Quidditch, this year, if he was allowed to play, would definitely be unfair. Gryffindor deserved a few wins though, and maybe the Slytherins would stop being so annoyingly prideful. Harry wasn't optimistic, however.

With the lack of people at the Slytherin table, Harry easily spotted the sleek blonde head of Draco Malfoy. His hand went to the wand in his pocket that wasn't his–he was going to return that soon. But as he was about to stand, a hush fell over the students, and Harry noticed that the Sorting Hat had uttered it's first note of the evening. Harry's green eyes slid over to Malfoy once more, before turning to the Sorting Hat. It had been a while since he had seen a sorting or heard the song of the hat.

His eyes wandered over the group of first years huddled by the door. He remembered being one of them–11 years old and terrified. So much had changed since then, but this world, even with all it's faults, was the one he would always call home.

 

[Lia]

Slytherin got a whole five new students. Pathetic.

Draco nodded to each one, but did nothing more. He didn't want to force them to publicly reject him.

When the sorting had (finally) ended, the feast began right away. He had expected a speech before the food, because that was how it had always been done, but this was better, he thought. He wouldn't have to pretend to listen to the old bat for at least another fifty minutes. "It's not surprising to see the Golden ones back again," Daphne commented. Draco grunted softly.

"Why wouldn't they come back?" he questioned. "Granger probably had kittens the entire time her precious education was interrupted, and the other two are here to make her shut up about them being here." That was his own interpretation, anyway. He hadn't interacted with any of the other eighth year students and he hoped to keep any future interactions with them to the bare minimums.

"You'd better be careful besides, Daph," Theo commented. "You're the one who might have to share the room with the Mud--ow!" Draco had kicked him - hard - beneath the table.

"Watch your mouth. We don't need any more trouble than we're likely to get," he hissed. At least his friend had the decency to blush a bit.

Blaise chimed in, "Besides, we'll probably have to share a room with Potter and Weasel. That's not much better than Granger." Draco could only nod.

"There are two dorms for witches and wizards each. Maybe we'll get lucky..."

Dinner went on that way until the pudding was finished and the tables had been cleared away. McGonagall stood at the podium and Draco had to force himself to not groan.

"Welcome back to Hogwarts. There are several new things that must be discussed before bed. The first is that we have students here who would have completed their education last year. These students will dorm in the designated 'eighth year' dormitory on the fifth floor. They will not be part of any house, and they will not be able to lose or win house points for any house." There was some discussion about that, and the new Headmistress waited for it to quiet again. "They will, however, attend classes with the seventh years of the house they belonged to previously, starting next week. I will be meeting with each of the eighth year students to review which NEWT classes they wish to take. They also will not be allowed to join any house Quidditch team, however they are encouraged to create two teams amongst themselves that may play for fun. If interested, any eighth year may speak with me about helping to coach a particular house team this year.

"Curfew for eighth year students will be two hours later than the rest of the students. While none are eligible to be a prefect or a Head Boy or Girl, I hope that you will still help the younger years who seek you out.

"Sixth, seventh and eighth year students will have permission to visit Hogsmeade on any weekend, not just school designated weekends. This is absolutely a privilege, and as such it can and will be taken away if it is abused. Third through fifth years will only be allowed to visit the village on school approved weekends. The Forest is still strictly forbidden..." Draco tuned the rest out. The rest he had heard for six years of his life. He didn't need to hear it again.

 

[xjynx]

Harry watched the sorting with interest clapping loudly as the new Gryffindors joined their table. A few of them came up to him shyly, and he did his best to smile at them. He remembered that he himself had been a bit terrified and overwhelmed on his first day in the castle. As the sorting was going on, Nearly Heeadless Nick floated down to the trio. All the younger students burst out in cries of "ew" or something similar when Nick pulled on his ear to expose the inside of his neck. Harry laughed a little.

The sorting ended quickly, and Professor Mcgonagall stood to speak. Harry listened carefully to the rules about the 8th years. He had received a letter about it over the summer, but hadn't read it thoroughly. It was disappointing that they wouldn't be back in their familiar dorms, but he understood there wasn't room. As soon as she mentioned Quidditch, Harry was fully focused and planning a Quidditch team. Help Gryffindor? Of course he would, but he was definitely planning on being part of an 8th year team as well.

Hogsmeade was good news as well. There was more freedom, and fewer warning than there had been in past years. The most danger they would have to deal with was disappearing stair steps. With this in mind, Harry relaxed. He was back in the first place that truly felt like home, and he no longer had Voldemort on his tail.

The rest of the feast passed without anything interesting happening. Harry was, perhaps, a bit wary of the look Hermione got in her eyes when she looked at the food and muttered something that sounded awfully like "houselves aren't slaves." He hoped SPEW wasn't about to make a comeback. When the feast was over, Harry watched the rest of the Gryffindors trail after the prefect and head to Gryffindor tower. He almost followed them, but he knew he had somewhere else to be.

"Either of you know where the 8th year dorm is?" He asked Ron and Hermione. Ron shrugged. Hermione pursed her lips.

"It was on the letter we received over the summer–on the fifth floor, behind the portrait of Eirene."

Harry and Ron followed after her to the painting. It was a corridor that Harry didn't recognize, and Harry looked around curiously. The trio split in the common room, Hermione heading one way, and the boys another. Harry glanced at the two doors to the boy's dormitories wondering which he was in. He was sure it had said in the letter, but had neglected to commit it to memory.

He pushed one door open, and looked for his own trunk. The person with the bed at the end had already arrived and arranged their things. Harry wondered which 8th year had gotten to the school early. He shrugged it off, and started unpacking his own things around the second bed.

Ron looked around frowning. "Looks like we're in separate rooms," he said, a shadow crossing his face. Harry straightened up, holding a spare pair of socks. "I'll see you around then," he replied a little awkwardly. It would be strange being at Hogwarts and having Ron in a separate room. In all of their years at the school, he had grown used to Ron's presence on a few feet away from him.

The redhead exited the dorm, leaving Harry to continue setting up his things. Harry picked the photo album off of the top of the pile of things in his trunk holding it in his hands for a moment. It was comforting to have a momento like that with him. He placed it on his bed gently, and went to going through the rest of his things.

 

[Lia]

The four Slytherin eighth years wandered around the corridors after the feast. None of them were too keen on walking into a lair of witches and wizards who were not only on high alert, but who also didn't trust them. Not that they trusted their other year mates... That was just semantics. They talked about which NEWT classes they would take, and about Quidditch. "I wonder if Slytherin will form a team this year. There aren't many students. Are you going to talk to McGonagall about helping to coach them, Draco?"

The blond thought about it for long moments before shrugging. "If they form a team, then perhaps. We all know that both Potter and Weasley will go for the Gryffindor spot, and that McGonagall will probably put them on as co-coaches. Slytherin will need all the help they can get then." There were nods of agreement all around.

They were all going to take Potions, Herbology, Transfiguration and Charms. Blaise and Malfoy had decided to add on Arithmancy and Runes, while Daphne was continuing in Muggle Studies and Theo was going to take Defense and Astronomy. At least they would have the majority of their classes together, which was good. Safety in numbers and all that.

It was finally nearing their curfew time. Unwilling to be caught out of bounds on their first night back, the four Slytherin students carefully made their way to the eighth year dorms. Blaise and Theo shared a dorm with him, thank Merlin. They wished Daphne luck in not getting roomed with Granger. Of course, Draco's celebration was cut short when they walked into the second boys dormitory to find Harry Potter was their roommate. The blond sighed in resignation. This was the way the world worked. It tortured him with Potter, throwing them together at every turn. Their lives were more intertwined than they had any right or reason to be, really.

The three boys said nothing. Blaise and Theo moved to unpack while Draco headed to his already settled area to get ready for the night. None of them said anything to their other roommates.

 

[xjynx]

Harry had been relaxing on his bed looking at the photo album. He had taken to doing this when he had nothing else to do because it made him feel like he really did belong somewhere. It was still embarrassing to be caught by Slytherins. Harry closed the album quickly when they walked over, but he could still feel the heat rising in his face. Of course, Draco Malfoy had seen him acting like a total sop. Yep, Harry Potter cries himself to sleep at night looking at photos of his dead family. He could almost hear the castle laughing at him and cringed looking down.

As he had already been in the room for a while, Harry was already in his pajamas. He did his best to ignore the Slytherins, and tossed the album nonchalantly onto his bedside table. He was about to take his glasses off, when he remembered he still had Draco's wand. He briefly entertained the idea of returning it, but with so many people present, he decided against it.

Instead, Harry placed his glasses on the table, and lay back thinking of all the classes he would begin on the next day. He hoped that the thrill of "the Hero Harry Potter" would wear off soon, and he would be able to walk through the castle normally–if he ever could. He sighed quietly; he did have to find a time to return Draco's wand. Perhaps he could detain him after a common class.

 

[Lia]

There wasn't much talk in the dorm that night. The three Slytherins didn't trust any of the other houses, and the other houses didn't trust them. Draco supposed that it worked out well all around. He didn't have anything left to say to Blaise or Theo, and he certainly didn't have anything to say to Potter or a couple of Hufflepuffs. With a week to go before their classes would start, the blond had to wonder how much stress could build inside of this special dorm room before it all exploded. Certainly not much if Weasley was involved.

He turned over to sleep, ignoring the other occupants.

The next morning brought a warm sunshine. The castle was abuzz early, with the majority of its students ready for their first day back after a very tumultuous year. Draco woke up slowly, in no rush. He was last to shower and dress. Even Blaise and Theo hadn't waited for him. Breakfast was a quiet affair for the Slytherin table, as dinner had been. McGonagall had announced, he heard, that she would be seeing the Slytherin eighth year students first, since there were the fewest of them. Daphne would be first, then Draco, then Theo and finally Blaise. When Daphne stood to make her meeting in time, the three wizards stayed behind in the Great Hall.

 

[xjynx]

It took a while for Harry to drift off to sleep. It wasn't that he was uncomfortable with the Slytherins in the same room. While he didn't particularly trust them, he didn't mistrust them either. After all, they had chosen to come back to Hogwarts to complete their education. While he was thinking about the new year and what it held in store, he finally fell asleep. When he woke, he was disoriented for a moment. Knowing that he was in the castle made him expect the Gryffindor dorm, but this room was different. He had woken fairly early, and went about readying himself for the day quietly so as not to wake the other inhabitants of the dormitory.

Harry made his way down to breakfast where he met with Ron and Hermione again. Hermione already had a schedule in front of her, two actually, because she had grabbed Ron's as well. It didn't take long for Harry to figure out that he and Ron were the only ones still taking potions, because Hermione was interested in different things. He did want to be an auror, and needed to take N.E.W.T.s in a number of subjects. He suspected that even though he was Harry Potter, the chosen one, they would not be particularly flexible in the requirements. Perhaps they would for DADA, but nothing else. So Harry was enrolled in potions, charms, transfiguration, defense against the dark arts and herbology.

The first class of the day was potions. And as he and Ron headed down to the dungeon, he felt a nostalgic pain for Snape. Despite the years of torture in his class, Harry did respect him to the utmost. When they arrived at the dungeon, the professor still had yet to arrive. Harry and Ron set up next to each other discussing in low voices what they would be doing this year.