Harry could not move a muscle. He lay there beneath the Invisibility Cloak feeling the blood from his nose flow, hot and wet, over his face, listening to the voices and footsteps in the corridor beyond.
He could hear Emily and Draco talking and then a slamming off the door, and he prayed that Draco was the one that walked off.
"Harry?" Emily whispered, taking a step towards the cloak, "You're there right?"
Harry had never hated Malfoy more than as he lay there, like an absurd turtle on its back, blood dripping sickeningly into his open mouth.
Harry looked up and saw Emily's face, he could see her panicking when he didn't respond.
She bent drown, grabbed the cloak and grabbed it off him, "Oh my God." she whispered, her hand shaking and reaching up to her face, "Harry! Harry!"
She pulled her wand out of her pocket and pointed it at Harry.
There was a flash of red light and Harry's body unfroze; he was able to push himself into a more dignified sitting position, and hastily wiped the blood off his bruised face with the back of his hand.
Emily sat in front of him on her knees, her eyes watering and her hands shaking.
"it's alright." Harry whispered, "I'm okay."
Emily took one deep breath and fell onto Harry's shoulder, hugging him closely. Harry returned the hug and wrapped his one arm around her waist, "We've got to get out of here."
Emily took a deep breath and moved away from the hug but instantly regretted it and reached down, taking his hand.
Just then, the two heard footsteps approaching them rapidly. Emily immediately stood up and pushed Harry down behind her with one hand whilst the other supported her wand.
"It's alright, Emily." the person said, revealing themselves by walking around the corner. It was Tonks, "It's just me."
"Tonks." Emily breathed, "You scared me."
"We'd better get out of here, quickly," she said, as the train windows became obscured with steam and they began to move out of the station. "Come on, we'll jump."
She turned around and began to hurry off.
Harry and Emily hurried after her into the corridor. She pulled open the train door and grabbed Emily's hand, both of them leaping onto the platform, which seemed to be sliding underneath them as the train gathered momentum.
Harry followed them, staggered a little on landing, then straightened up in time to see the gleaming scarlet steam engine pick up speed, round the corner, and disappear from view.
Tonks was looking at Harry; Emily could tell he felt angry and embarrassed that he had been discovered in such a ridiculous position.
"Who did it?" Tonks asked.
"Draco Malfoy," said Harry bitterly.
From what Emily could see in the darkness, she was as mousy-haired and miserable looking as she had been when she had met her at the Burrow.
"I can fix your nose if you stand still." Emily said.
Harry did not think much of this idea; he had been intending to visit Madam Pomfrey, the matron, in whom he had a little more confidence when it came to Healing Spells, but it seemed rude to say this, so he stayed stock-still and closed his eyes, and plus, he trusted Emily more than anyone else he had ever met.
"Episkey," said Emily.
Harry's nose felt very hot, and then very cold. He raised a hand and felt it gingerly. It seemed to be mended, "Thank you."
"You two better put that cloak back on, and we can walk up to the school," said Tonks, still unsmiling.
As Harry swung the cloak back over himself and Emily, Tonks waved her wand; an immense silvery four-legged creature erupted from it and streaked off into the darkness.
"Was that a Patronus?" asked Harry, who had seen Dumbledore send messages like this.
"Yes, I'm sending word to the castle that I've got you or they'll worry. Come on, we'd better not dawdle."
They set off toward the lane that led to the school.
"How did you find us?" Emily asked.
"I noticed you hadn't left the train and I knew Harry had that cloak. I thought he might be hiding for some reason. When I saw the blinds were drawn down on that compartment I thought I'd check."
"But what are you doing here, anyway?" Harry asked.
"I'm stationed in Hogsmeade now, to give the school extra protection," said Tonks.
"Is it just you who's stationed up here, or-?"
"No, Proudfoot, Savage, and Dawlish are here too."
"Dawlish, that Auror Dumbledore attacked last year?"
"That's right."
They trudged up the dark, deserted lane, following the freshly made carriage tracks. Emily looked sideways at Tonks under her cloak. Last year she had been inquisitive (to the point of being a little annoying at times), she had laughed easily, she had made jokes.
Now she seemed older and much more serious and purposeful. Was this all the effect of what had happened at the Ministry? Emily knew she should have said something, comforted her about Sirius dying and making sure to reassure her that it wasn't her fault.
But she couldn't, she feared that if she even spoke her fathers name then she would break down. It had been herself that had killed him, it was no one's fault but her own
And so they tramped on through the cold night in silence, Tonks's long cloak whispering on the ground behind them.
Having always traveled there by carriage, Emily had never before appreciated just how far Hogwarts was from Hogsmeade Station.
With great relief she finally saw the tall pillars on either side of the gates, each topped with a winged boar.
She was cold and she was quite keen to leave this new, gloomy Tonks behind. But when she put out a hand to push open the gates, she found them chained shut.
"Alohomora!" Harry said confidently, pointing his wand at the padlock, but nothing happened.
"That won't work on these," said Tonks. "Dumbledore bewitched them himself."
Harry looked around.
"I could climb a wall," he suggested.
"No, you couldn't," said Tonks flatly. "Anti-intruder jinxes on all of them. Security's been tightened a hundredfold this summer."
"Well then," said Harry, starting to feel annoyed at her lack of helpfulness, "I suppose we'll just have to sleep out here and wait for morning."
"Someone's coming down for you," said Tonks. "Look."
A lantern was bobbing at the distant foot of the castle.
Emily was so pleased to see it she felt she could even endure Filch's wheezy criticisms of his tardiness and rants about how his timekeeping would improve with the regular application of thumbscrews.
It was not until the glowing yellow light was ten feet away from them, and Harry had pulled off his Invisibility Cloak so that he could be seen, that Emily recognised, with a rush of pure loathing, the uplit hooked nose and long, black, greasy hair of Severus Snape.
"Well, well, well," sneered Snape, taking out his wand and tapping the padlock once, so that the chains snaked backward and the gates creaked open. "Nice of you to turn up, Potter, and you, Lupin, although you have evidently decided that the wearing of school robes would detract from your appearance."
And for once in her life, Emily didn't correct Snape, she couldn't bring herself to say her fathers last name.
"We couldn't change, we didn't have our-" Harry began, but Snape cut across him.
"There is no need to wait, Nymphadora, Potter and Lupin are quite - ah - safe in my hands."
"I meant Hagrid to get the message," said Tonks, frowning.
"Hagrid was late for the start-of-term feast, just like Potter and Lupin here, so I took it instead. And incidentally," said Snape, standing back to allow Harry and Emily to pass him, "I was interested to see your new Patronus."
He shut the gates in her face with a loud clang and tapped the chains with his wand again, so that they slithered, clinking, back into place.
"I think you were better off with the old one," said Snape, the malice in his voice unmistakable. "The new one looks weak."
As Snape swung the lantern about, Emily saw, fleetingly, a look of shock and anger on Tonks's face. Then she was covered in darkness once more.
"Good night," Emily called to her over her shoulder, as she began the walk up to the school with Snape and Harry.
"See you, Emily. Goodbye, Harry."
Snape did not speak for a minute or so. Emily felt as though her body was generating waves of hatred so powerful that it seemed incredible that Snape could not feel them burning him.
"Fifty points from Gryffindor for lateness, I think," said Snape. "And, let me see, another twenty for your Muggle attire. You know, I don't believe any House has ever been in negative figures this early in the term: We haven't even started pudding. You might have set a record, Potter and Lupin."
Emily bit her tongue.
"I suppose you wanted to make an entrance, did you?" Snape continued. "And with no flying car available you decided that bursting into the Great Hall halfway through the feast ought to create a dramatic effect."
They reached the castle steps at last and as the great oaken front doors swung open into the vast flagged entrance hall, a burst of talk and laughter and of tinkling plates and glasses greeted them through the doors standing open into the Great Hall.
Emily wondered whether she could slip Harry's Invisibility Cloak back on, thereby gaining her seat at the long Gryffindor table (which, inconveniently, was the farthest from the entrance hall) without being noticed.
As though he had read Emily's mind, however, Snape said, "No cloak. You can walk in so that everyone sees you, which is what you wanted, I'm sure."
Harry turned on the spot, grabbed Emily's hand and marched straight through the open doors: anything to get away from Snape.
The Great Hall, with its four long House tables and its staff table set at the top of the room, was decorated as usual with floating candles that made the plates below glitter and glow.
It was all a shimmering blur to Emily, however, who walked so fast that she was passing the Hufflepuff table before people really started to stare, and by the time they were standing up to get a good look at Emily and Harry, the two had spotted Ron and Hermione, sped along the benches toward them, and sat opposite them.
"Where've you-blimey, what've you done to your face?" said Ron, goggling at him along with everyone else in the vicinity.
"Why, what's wrong with it?" said Harry, grabbing a spoon and squinting at his distorted reflection.
"You're covered in blood!" said Hermione. "Come here-"
She raised her wand, said "Tergeo!" and siphoned off the dried blood.
"Thanks," said Harry, feeling his now clean face. "How's my nose looking?"
"Normal," said Hermione anxiously. "Why shouldn't it? Harry, what happened? We've been terrified!"
"I'll tell you later," said Harry curtly. He was very conscious that Ginny, Neville, Dean, and Seamus were listening in; even Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor ghost, had come floating along the bench to eavesdrop.
"But-" said Hermione.
"Not now, Hermione," said Harry, in a darkly significant voice.
"Emily?" Hermione whispered, looking at the girl who had already spaced out, "Emily?"
"Yeah, sorry." Emily croaked, shaking her head back into reality.
Harry reached across Ron for a couple of chicken legs and a handful of chips, but before he could take them they vanished, to be replaced with puddings.
"You missed the Sorting, anyway," said Hermione, as Ron dived for a large chocolate gateau.
"Hat say anything interesting?" asked Harry, taking a piece of treacle tart.
"More of the same, really . . . advising us all to unite in the face of our enemies, you know."
"Dumbledore mentioned Voldemort at all?"
"Not yet, but he always saves his proper speech for after the feast, doesn't he? It can't be long now."
"Snape said Hagrid was late for the feast-"
"You've seen Snape? How come?" said Ron between frenzied mouthfuls of gateau.
"Bumped into him," said Harry evasively.
"Hagrid was only a few minutes late," said Hermione. "Look, he's waving at you two."
Harry looked up at the staff table and grinned at Hagrid, who was indeed waving at him and Emily.
Harry nudged Emily and Emily made an effort to look up at Hagrid and smile before looking back down at her empty plate.
Hagrid had never quite managed to comport himself with the dignity of Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor House, the top of whose head came up to somewhere between Hagrid's elbow and shoulder as they were sitting side by side, and who was looking disapprovingly at this enthusiastic greeting.
Harry was surprised to see the Divination teacher, Professor Trelawney, sitting on Hagrid's other side; she rarely left her tower room, and he had never seen her at the start-of-term feast before. She looked as odd as ever, glittering with beads and trailing shawls, her eyes magnified to enormous size by her spectacles.
Having always considered her a bit of a fraud, Harry had been shocked to discover at the end of the previous term that it had been she who had made the prediction that caused Lord Voldemort to kill Harry's parents and attack Harry himself.
The knowledge had made him even less eager to find himself in her company, but thankfully, this year he would be dropping Divination. Her great beaconlike eyes swiveled in his direction; he hastily looked away to- ward the Slytherin table.
Draco Malfoy was miming the shattering of a nose to raucous laughter and applause. Harry dropped his gaze to his treacle tart, his insides burning again. What he would not give to fight Malfoy one-on-one . . .
"So what did Professor Slughorn want?" Hermione asked.
"To know what really happened at the Ministry," said Harry.
"Him and everyone else here," sniffed Hermione. "People were interrogating us about it on the train, weren't they, Ron?"
"Yeah," said Ron. "All wanting to know if you really are 'the Chosen One'-"
"There has been much talk on that very subject even amongst the ghosts," interrupted Nearly Headless Nick, inclining his barely connected head toward Harry so that it wobbled dangerously on its ruff. "I am considered something of a Potter authority; it is widely known that we are friendly. I have assured the spirit community that I will not pester you for information, however. 'Harry Potter knows that he can confide in me with complete confidence,' I told them. 'I would rather die than betray his trust.' "
"That's not saying much, seeing as you're already dead," Ron observed.
"Once again, you show all the sensitivity of a blunt axe," said Nearly Headless Nick in affronted tones, and he rose into the air and glided back toward the far end of the Gryffindor table just as Dumbledore got to his feet at the staff table.
The talk and laughter echoing around the Hall died away almost instantly.
"The very best of evenings to you!" he said, smiling broadly, his arms opened wide as though to embrace the whole room.
"What happened to his hand?" gasped Hermione.
She was not the only one who had noticed.
Dumbledore's right hand was as blackened and dead-looking as it had been on the night he had come to fetch Harry from the Dursleys. Whispers swept the room; Dumbledore, interpreting them correctly, merely smiled and shook his purple-and-gold sleeve over his injury.
"Nothing to worry about," he said airily. "Now . . . to our new students, welcome, to our old students, welcome back! Another year full of magical education awaits you . . ."
"His hand was like that when I saw him over the summer," Harry whispered to Hermione. "I thought he'd have cured it by now, though . . . or Madam Pomfrey would've done."
"It looks as if it's died," said Hermione, with a nauseated expres- sion. "But there are some injuries you can't cure . . . old curses . . . and there are poisons without antidotes. . . ."
". . . and Mr. Filch, our caretaker, has asked me to say that there is a blanket ban on any joke items bought at the shop called Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Those wishing to play for their House Quidditch teams should give their names to their Heads of House as usual. We are also looking for new Quidditch commentators, who should do likewise. We are pleased to welcome a new member of staff this year. Professor Slughorn-"
Slughorn stood up, his bald head gleaming in the candlelight, his big waistcoated belly casting the table below into shadow
"-is a former colleague of mine who has agreed to resume his old post of Potions master."
"Potions?"
"Potions?"
The word echoed all over the Hall as people wondered whether they had heard right.
"Potions?" said Ron and Hermione together, turning to stare at Harry. "But you said-"
"Professor Snape, meanwhile," said Dumbledore, raising his voice so that it carried over all the muttering, "will be taking over the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."
"No!" said Harry, so loudly that many heads turned in his direction. He did not care; he was staring up at the staff table, incensed. How could Snape be given the Defense Against the Dark Arts job after all this time? Hadn't it been widely known for years that Dumbledore did not trust him to do it?
"But Harry, you said that Slughorn was going to be teaching Defence Against the Dark Arts!" said Hermione.
"I thought he was!" said Harry, racking his brains to remember when Dumbledore had told him this, but now that he came to think of it, he was unable to recall Dumbledore ever telling him what Slughorn would be teaching.
Snape, who was sitting on Dumbledore's right, did not stand up at the mention of his name; he merely raised a hand in lazy acknowledgment of the applause from the Slytherin table, yet Harry was sure he could detect a look of triumph on the features he loathed so much.
"Well, there's one good thing," he said savagely. "Snape'll be gone by the end of the year."
"What do you mean?" asked Ron.
"That job's jinxed. No one's lasted more than a year. . . . Quirrell actually died doing it. . . . Personally, I'm going to keep my fingers crossed for another death. . . ."
"Harry!" said Hermione, shocked and reproachful.
"He might just go back to teaching Potions at the end of the year," said Ron reasonably. "That Slughorn bloke might not want to stay long-term. Moody didn't."
Dumbledore cleared his throat. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were not the only ones who had been talking; the whole Hall had erupted in a buzz of conversation at the news that Snape had finally achieved his heart's desire.
Seemingly oblivious to the sensational nature of the news he had just imparted, Dumbledore said nothing more about staff appointments, but waited a few seconds to ensure that the silence was absolute before continuing.
"Now, as everybody in this Hall knows, Lord Voldemort and his followers are once more at large and gaining in strength."
The silence seemed to tauten and strain as Dumbledore spoke. Harry glanced at Malfoy. Malfoy was not looking at Dumbledore, but making his fork hover in midair with his wand, as though he found the headmaster's words unworthy of his attention.
"I cannot emphasize strongly enough how dangerous the present situation is, and how much care each of us at Hogwarts must take to ensure that we remain safe. The castle's magical fortifications have been strengthened over the summer, we are protected in new and more powerful ways, but we must still guard scrupulously against carelessness on the part of any student or member of staff. I urge you, therefore, to abide by any security restrictions that your teachers might impose upon you, however irksome you might find them — in particular, the rule that you are not to be out of bed after hours. I implore you, should you notice anything strange or suspicious within or outside the castle, to report it to a member of staff immediately. I trust you to conduct yourselves, always, with the utmost regard for your own and others' safety."
Dumbledore's blue eyes swept over the students before he smiled once more.
"But now, your beds await, as warm and comfortable as you could possibly wish, and I know that your top priority is to be well- rested for your lessons tomorrow. Let us therefore say good night. Pip pip!"
With the usual deafening scraping noise, the benches were moved back and the hundreds of students began to file out of the Great Hall toward their dormitories.
"Come on, Emily." Harry said, standing up and looking down at the sitting down Emily, "It's time to go."
"I'm just gonna wait here for a bit." Emily whispered, "I'll be up soon."
Emily waited until the room was empty with just the professors left to leave.
"Emily?" Dumbledore questioned, "Is everything okay?"
Emily nodded and stood up, she climbed over the table and stood in front of the table, "I was just ehm-"
"It's alright, Albus." Minerva shouted from the other side of the hall, "She'll be speaking to me."
Dumbledore made a noise that sounded as if he had realised what was happening, he patted Emily comfortingly on the shoulder and made his way out the hall.
Professor McGonagall smiled sadly to the girl, "Emily?"
Emily looked up at the enchanted ceiling and took a deep breath in, trying her hardest to keep the tears in her eyes but she couldn't help it. Before she knew it, the tears were already streaming down her face.
McGonagall made a swift movement and moved from the teachers table and began to walk down to Emily.
Emily broke into a jog as she hurried to get into the embrace of Minerva's as quick as she possible could.
When she got close enough, Minerva brought her in for a tight hug, stroking her hair and placed her chin on the girls head, "I've got you, Emily. I've got you."