Chapter Text
Chapter Fifty-Six: Mabon
The third floor classroom that doubled as the Heritage Society’s meeting location had been transformed by the careful efforts of not only Harry and Daphne, but also each of the four heads of houses.
Professor Sprout had assisted in bringing some nature into the space. Around the door to the classroom there now curled a grand autumnal archway of gold, orange and red leaves, which crawled around the walls of the room, giving it a festive atmosphere.
Professor McGonagall had transfigured the classroom desks into a grand round table with enough room to seat the entire first year cohort, inlaid with gold engravings of traditional Mabon harvest symbols.
Professor Flitwick, not to be left out, had demonstrated an impressive knowledge and skill of runecraft by engraving into the stone of the back wall a series of runes, which once complete, lit bright cherry red and caused flames to spill out of the wall.
The entire back wall was now a wall of flames, and the man had transfigured a protective grate in front, as a safety precaution. It looked rather spectacular, the flames licking the wall of stone underneath a crown of autumnal leaves.
Harry had about a thousand questions for the short Charms professor, and Daphne was close behind him, given her mother was a Runes Mistress. Most elemental magic performed by witches and wizards was neutral and spellcraft based – the Incendio charm being the most commonly used spellcraft. However, elemental magic at its heart was truly tied to runecraft – it had existed long before wands became common. Elemental runecraft though was rarely practiced nowadays due to the complexity - and it could easily backfire when engraved incorrectly or put in the wrong order. They would not be taught how to use any elemental runecraft until their final year at Hogwarts in Ancient Runes if they took it as an elective.
Harry, Daphne and Neville had spent the rest of their afternoon hand weaving individual wreaths for each of their guests, and one now sat in front of each seat, beside the currently empty dinnerware.
Professor Snape had supervised their work, instructing the children on what to add to each wreath. “Grapevine for abundance, myrtle for tranquillity and purity, clover for good fortune,” Snape was saying, deftly sorting through the piles of greenery Professor Sprout had dropped off, displaying each plant to trio as he instructed them.
“And chamomile flowers for peace and renewal,” Nevile murmured, picking up a bunch of pretty white flowers. He then blanched, looking up nervously at Professor Snape, concerned he had interrupted the man.
However Professor Snape had an intrigued look on his face, responding, “Correct, Longbottom. You have an interest in herbology?”
“I do, sir,” Neville confirmed, gently placing the chamomile flowers back on the table.
Professor Snape had a thoughtful look on his face as the trio began weaving the wreaths, talking quietly amongst themselves as they worked.
Harry and Daphne knew Neville was rather intimidated by Professor Snape, and he had told them previously that he found Potions intense and could barely scrape by in the class. But as they worked on the wreaths Neville found himself actually talking to the surly Potions professor, who questioned Neville’s experience with plants. In his element, Neville was able to come out of his shell, confidently discussing his favourite topic with the teacher.
The first years had been told to come wearing their school robes, although it was common for those participating in the ritual to wear autumnal colours such as red, orange and yellow. Harry and Daphne had decided they did not want to make any students feel out of place if they did not possess suitable clothes, and so chose to go for uniformity.
Professor Snape had left shortly before the commencement of the feast, although Harry had invited the teacher to stay and participate. A complex range of emotions had crossed the man’s face at Harry’s genuine offer, before he responded, “I would prefer not to spend my evening sitting at a table of eleven year olds, Potter.”
Harry had not taken any offence, grinning as he replied, “Understandable. Have a nice evening, sir.”
The first to arrive, slightly before the start time, was Hermione with Lavender and Parvati in tow. Hermione was nearly vibrating out of her skin with excitement, keen brown eyes darting around, chattering away as she commented on the different features around the room.
Lavender and Parvati were a little more reserved, but no less impressed by what had been done to the room, and were positively delighted by the wreaths Neville shyly showed to them.
Harry had been a little worried some of the Muggleborns might not understand the wreaths, or might find it funny. But as more students began arriving they all happily picked up the wreaths and put them on. Whilst there were a few chuckles, Sally-Anne Perks laughing as she fixed Wayne Hopkins lopsided wreath for him, nobody outright refused to put the wreaths on.
As they waited for everyone to arrive, the first years were milling around the table and the charmed wall of flames, and sipping from the large glass punch bowl of butterbeer.
Butterbeer was not normally served at Hogwarts, but Harry had gone to the school kitchen earlier that day, revealed by finding the painting of a bowl of fruit in the corridor under the entrance hall and tickling the painted pear. Sirius had been the source of that particular hint, having spent his fair share of time dropping by the kitchen to beg treats from the team of hard working house elves during his school years.
Harry had barely had to ask before the house elves were falling over themselves to promise to supply butterbeer for the first year’s feast – Hogwarts always kept a stock of crates from Hogsmeade for special occasions.
For most of the Muggleborn students, it was their first time tasting butterbeer, and it was an instant hit. Bright conversations buzzed around the room, and there was a palpable feeling of excitement and delight.
Harry let his eyes close briefly to feel for the magic around him, always so present on these sacred days. He could feel it threading within and around every person in the room, binding them all together. He opened his eyes, and found Daphne smiling at him from across the room where she was talking with Susan and Hannah.
He smiled back at her, feeling his awareness of the magic around them all fading into the background, but remaining a constant comforting presence from the echo of his own magic humming beneath his skin.
His attention was quickly drawn to the door where Draco entered, flanked by Theo, Crabbe and Goyle, Pansy and Millie following closely behind. The other Slytherin students were the last to arrive, and Harry noted with growing worry the expressions on the faces of the other first year students. The happy and animated conversations occurring around the room all ended rather abruptly into stilted silence, and were quickly replaced by mutters and whispers.
The expressions around the room ranged from vaguely displeased in the case of Daphne, Tracey and Blaise, and outrightly hostile on the part of Ron, Seamus and Dean. Everyone else looked mildly annoyed that they had turned up – Harry spotted Zacharias lean over to Su near him to mutter something, and the girl nodded, shrewdly eyeing Draco. It seems the boy’s bad attitude during their first flying class had not earned him any friends, particularly not from his team members he had treated poorly.
In response to the decidedly chilly reception, Draco and the others were immediately on guard, and they all stiffened their spines and set their faces in neutral masks. Harry could see their walls slamming up – and knew he needed to diffuse the tension or something unfortunate might happen.
This was meant to be a safe and welcoming space for all.
Harry walked over quickly to Draco, and in clear view of all wrapped his friend in a tight hug and said loudly, “I’m so glad you could make it.” Looking over Draco’s shoulder to the unimpressed faces of Theo, Pansy, Millie, Crabbe and Goyle Harry added, “I’m happy you all came.”
Pansy sniffed disdainfully and declared, “It was the only option to celebrate Mabon.” Her dark eyes cut around the room, searching for any miniscule defect or default she could find with the decorations. At last she stated, “A poor replacement for a Mabon Ball – but I suppose the best that could be thrown together.”
Harry actually felt Daphne’s magic heave at that, and he paused to turn around and cast her a startled look. He had not been consciously reaching out for anyone’s magical core, but he was sure he did not just imagine that – he had actually felt her magic react in her anger.
Daphne’s furious expression faltered in the face of Harry’s startled look her way, her features melting into vague confusion, wondering why he was looking at her that way. He felt her magic coil back under her skin, momentarily distracted.
Shocked at this development in his magical awareness, wondering dazedly if this was something that he could only sense on sacred days or if his awareness was generally growing stronger and evolving, Harry mentally shook himself and quickly looked back to the others.
He offered Pansy a tight smile and replied, “It’s certainly no Mabon Ball. But at least we can all observe the day.”
Pansy hummed noncommittally, folding her arms defensively under the continued stares of everyone in the room.
“Please, everyone take a seat around the table,” Harry announced to the wider room, feeling a little awkward to be directing people. There was a scramble for seats, and Harry saw Daphne circle the room to come up beside him.
Whispering into his ear she asked, “What was that just now?”
“I sensed your magic react to Pansy,” Harry whispered back, green eyes carefully scanning to make sure no one was close by to overhear. Fortunately everyone was too distracted securing seats near people they liked.
Daphne looked at him incredulously, asking with fascination, “What did it feel like?”
Harry paused for a moment and replied, “It was like this surge – your magic kind of heaved. And then when you were distracted it sort of felt like it coiled back up inside you.”
“I was picturing heaving her across the room,” Daphne mused, a dangerous look on her face.
“Daphne,” Harry groaned.
The girl blinked at him innocently with those blue eyes replying, “I was only picturing it.” Her expression softened and she whispered back, “That’s incredible, Harry. We’ll have to experiment with it soon to see if it was a one-off or if it’s here to stay.”
She squeezed his hand, and he squeezed hers back and then they parted ways, Daphne going to sit beside Tracey who had saved her a seat. A bit further around the table Neville had saved a spot for Harry, Hermione sitting on the boy’s other side.
Draco was sitting beside the empty spot reserved for Harry, Theo to the boy’s other side, looking displeased at being seated so close to Harry.
Harry gave Neville a grateful smile as he approached, having asked the boy quietly beforehand to save an empty spot between he and Draco to ensure Harry could act as a buffer between the rest of his house and the other first years. He hoped it was just a precaution, and he would not have to actually stop an altercation between the members of his house and the rest of their peers.
Daphne, Tracey and Blaise kept the other side penned in on their end, effectively corralling the rest of their housemates in.
Harry wished they did not have to assume the worst, but he knew all too well the prejudiced beliefs of the group of Slytherin students. Their parents had instilled in them an unwavering belief in the superiority of their blood and family names when compared to everyone else.
He did not want anyone’s first experience of a wizarding tradition to be marred by a careless comment.
Taking his seat, adjusting the wreath on his head to take a moment to steady his nerves, the only sound in the room was the crackle of the runecrafted flames licking the stone wall against the back wall.
The eyes of all of his peers were on him, all curious and expectant to follow his next cue on how the evening was to progress. They had covered it theoretically in the Heritage Society meeting last week, but everyone was looking to Harry to lead.
“Today is a day of thanksgiving,” Harry began, hoping desperately his voice would not crack under the pressure of so many people watching him. “On Mabon we celebrate what we are grateful for, and we release what we regret.”
“We gather and feast to express our happiness in enjoying this moment together, but before we eat, we must each give an offering from the table to the fire,” Harry explained, gesturing to the wall of flames. “We burn some of our food as a small offering to magic, and as we do so, we think of something we regret. As you release your offering into the fire, you will also release your regret.”
The students from magical backgrounds were all nodding slightly, following along with the familiar instructions of a Mabon ritual. Some of the Muggleborns looks a little dubious, but seeing the open expressions on the faces of the students from magical backgrounds seemed to make something click for them.
They were part of a new world now. Biases and preconceived notions were to be left at the door – it was time to be open-minded.
But Harry knew it was more than that – people were so focused on getting people to be open-minded they forgot about how important it was for people to be open-hearted too. To be receptive to receive the incredible gifts that were around them, and the magic that flowed through everything and everyone here.
Harry lifted his knife from the table, cheeks flushed a little in embarrassment at the formality of this process, and gently tapped his goblet, which chimed loudly in the quiet of the room. Suddenly the table was overflowing with an abundance of food, sent up at his cue by the hardworking elves in the kitchens. The house elves had requested he give them that cue, which was apparently the usual way they received a signal.
“We’ll go up one at a time, in a clockwise direction,” Harry directed. “Select something from the table to offer, it doesn’t matter what or how much, put it on your plate and take it to the fire one at time.”
He reached over, picking up half of a pomegranate and placing it on his plate. He caught Blaise’s eye across the table as the boy also reached for half of a pomegranate too. His eyes flicked down to Harry’s plate, and then up to meet his gaze, something unreadable in his eyes.
Focusing on setting the first example for the students who had never experienced this before, Harry rose to his feet, walking over to the edge of the grate that separated him from the dancing flames against the back wall.
For the benefit of the many curious eyes on him, Harry explained, “Keep in mind what it is you regret. It does not have to be anything too deep. It might be an assignment you wish you had studied harder for, or an opportunity you didn’t take.”
He took a moment to think about what he regretted.
Draco had been struggling with feelings of inferiority and been putting immense pressure on himself to be perfect for his parents. Harry had known the boy was prone to envying those around him, but had simply dismissed it as a shallow part of his personality and that there was nothing deeper to it than that.
He had failed to recognise the complex layers underpinning Draco’s behaviour, and instead of being there to support his friend in working through his issues, Harry had just let it get worse over the years until it finally came to a head recently.
Harry regretted not being there for Draco.
Before he threw the pomegranate into the fire Harry glanced Draco’s way and saw the boy’s expression soften under Harry’s gaze. Harry could make a decent guess what Draco’s own regret was going to be.
With a silent promise to do better by his friend, Harry picked up the fruit and threw it into the flames, which burned hotter and brighter in response. As the pomegranate caught fire and began to burn, Harry could feel the knot of tension in his stomach begin to loosen. As he had explained to everyone, by throwing the offering in the fire you were opening yourself to magic to release whatever it was you regretted.
Harry turned back around, smiling at everyone. He gestured for Neville to get up next, the boy walking over with his own offering, passing by Harry who was returning to his seat.
They proceeded like that around the table, each person getting up and offering something to the fire; some taking longer than others to reflect at the flames before throwing in their offering. What was unanimous though were the peaceful looks on each person’s face as they turned back from the flames, feeling magic begin its work.
Harry was genuinely delighted too to see the awe and wonder on many of the Muggleborns faces, returning to their seats and sitting down with a sort of dazed expression across their faces. This was why it was so important to observe these traditional days – to honour your connection to magic and your place in the world.
Draco was the last to complete the ritual, pausing for some time at the fire before throwing in his offering. When he returned to his seat Harry nudged his leg under the table and the other boy nudged him back, silently acknowledging the regret that had been released into the Mabon fire.
“Now it is time to celebrate; to feast, drink and enjoy each other’s company,” Harry announced a little bashfully.
Everyone dug into their meals, and knowing how popular the butterbeer punch bowl was, Harry pulled out his wand and cast the Levitation Charm on it, to hover it over to the table. Neville and Hermione assisted in clearing some space in the middle for him to place it down.
A few people’s eyes lingered on his flawless control of the spell - holding such a bulky and heavy object aloft was impressive for a first year. Not to mention they were yet to learn that particular charm in class yet. Of course, what most did not know was that Harry had experience in holding things aloft without a wand – albeit nothing as cumbersome as this.
He lowered the bowl safely to the table and many reached forward to enjoy more of the drink, the house elves keeping the bowl full in a seemingly never-ending supply.
Harry spent part of his time talking with Draco and the other part with Neville and Hermione, who craned her head around to join in on the conversation. The earlier tension from the arrival of Draco and the others had fizzled out as quickly as it had happened. A large part was due to the careful placement of them away from others at the table – if Theo and Pansy were muttering cruel things to each other it was certainly not audible to others at the table.
But there was also a feeling of unity amongst the first year cohort now – by participating in this ritual together they were bound by their shared experience. Harry could feel the magic tighter now wrapped around each of them, weaving them all together like threads of a tapestry. Although the other students could not feel precisely what he was feeling, he sensed surely they could all feel a vague sentiment of unity.
Glancing back towards Theo, Pansy and the others, he had to be impressed at the fact they had turned up at all – even with the weight of Draco encouraging them. They came knowing full well they would be breaking bread with Muggleborns. That they would be sharing a sacred space that until this point they had only ever shared with those from magical backgrounds.
He figured this was probably not something any of them were going to be writing home about.
Harry took a moment to feel grateful that he had managed to get his entire year in one place, biases and all, to share in this sacred day. He caught Daphne’s eye and toasted her with a goblet of butterbeer. She toasted him back and they both drank to their shared success.
It was deeper in the night, when the conversations grew hushed and sleepy, that the four heads of houses arrived to escort the first years to their dormitories. It was nearly curfew, and they had come to fetch their wayward students.
There had nearly been an uproar in the Great Hall when word got around – courtesy of the Weasley twins who had used the Sonorous Charm to announce it to the entire hall, that the first years were throwing a Mabon feast.
The heads had been fielding questions all night in the Great Hall and even later when students began retiring to their common rooms, all students demanding why they were not permitted to celebrate the sacred day too, and why only the first years could do so.
There were also a fair few confused Muggleborn students, who had no idea what had everyone riled up. Conversations started happening, their housemates from magical backgrounds distractedly explaining the sacred days.
This led to even louder outbursts from the Muggleborns, asking why on earth no one had ever taken the time to explain any of this to them.
Chaos, outrage and frustration threatened to dissolve the evening into total anarchy, and so Dumbledore had been forced to stand and magically amplify his voice over the cacophony of voices to declare, “The first years alone are participating in a unique program. Any similar program proposals must be run by me. Please direct any queries to your heads of houses.”
Normally, school clubs like the Heritage Society were simply endorsed by any member of staff, and then they were a part of the school’s co-curricula program. It was highly unorthodox for a headmaster to instruct that any similar clubs be endorsed by him personally, and it had raised more than a few eyebrows.
Now later in the evening, the four heads of houses paused near the open door to the third floor classroom and looked inside they watched their students all sitting together, smiles on faces, some wreaths slightly askew. Heads were ducked closely together as students from different houses spoke with hushed voices to each other. Laughter drifted up occasionally over the crackle of the runecraft flames, and there was an easy, relaxed ambiance to the space.
All four teachers realised something in that moment – none could recall a cohort ever being this cohesive and friendly with each other. At least not on this scale.
Loathe to break the tranquil scene, but aware it was curfew, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, instantly shattering the peace. Multiple heads jerked up and faces turned rapidly to her, eyes blinking as though waking up from a dream.
“Time for bed,” she informed them all quietly.
Groans of disappointment rose up quickly, and one particularly courageous - or foolish - voice called out, “Can’t we stay a bit longer?”
Professor McGonagall quickly sharpened her gaze on a sheepish looking Dean Thomas, who ducked his head and rose quickly to his feet.
Harry informed the students they were welcome to keep the wreaths, or give them to Professor Sprout who would find alternative use for the plants. Some handed their wreaths to the teacher, who could not keep the delighted look off her face as she looked around the warm scene, but others kept their wreaths close.
Harry wondered if they were keeping them as a memento of their first ever wizarding ritual.
As they all prepared to leave the room, Professor Flitwick carefully striking through the runes and removing them from the wall to cancel the elemental magic, and Professor McGonagall sweeping her wand out to transfigure the table back into multiple classroom desks, Harry suddenly found himself surrounded by students thanking him quietly for the evening.
There were lots of students confirming when the next meeting of the Heritage Society would be – not for a month was the answer, which was met with disappointment.
As the students all parted ways following their respective heads of houses there were sleepy good nights shared across all of the houses.
Harry tiredly slung an arm around Daphne’s shoulders as they trailed after Professor Snape, and she wrapped her own arm around Harry’s back, leaning on one another.
“I’d call that a success,” Harry muttered to her quietly.
“It feels like we’re really doing something here to change things,” Daphne confessed.
Harry was reminded in that moment of them both when they were younger, small and determined in Ezra’s classroom, swearing that they would help bring about change in the system.
“Change is coming, and the wise had best be prepared to adapt,” Harry whispered, echoing the words Gareth so often said.
Daphne grinned, immediately recognising her father’s words.
Harry brushed a finger over his Greengrass ring, silently thanking the couple who had taken him in and truly prepared him for the world he was entering.
The following week at school Harry and Daphne found themselves fielding questions from all manner of older students, demanding how they had gotten their proposal through for the Heritage Society. Through word of mouth, information had slipped through the Hogwarts grapevine that it was Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass who had established the unique program for first year students, which allowed them to observe sacred days during the school year.
Apparently a few students had already made attempts to get their own proposals considered, but with Dumbledore insisting on being the one to approve each program, no one had heard anything back yet, given the volume of requests put in to the headmaster’s office.
In between the demands for answers was the quiet praise too – students like Grace Selwyn approaching them to express her approval in what they were doing. Flint as well had a lot to say, sitting down with Harry and Daphne at dinner one night to talk animatedly about how important it was what they were doing, and wanting to know what else they had planned.
He had offered if they wanted to include anything about how the wizarding judicial or legislative system worked, he could ask his father for resources.
In fact, many older students began approaching them with similar offers, each with family members who had expertise in some field of the wizarding world. Not just from Slytherin either – but older students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw and Gryffindor too. Harry and Daphne were slightly overwhelmed, but also delighted at the response from their peers. There was a resounding feeling of approval and a desire to be involved in any way they could.
Harry found himself deeply regretting restricting the Heritage Society to first year students. Currently, it was the only program of its kind, and only time would tell if that would change. Had he known the Heritage Society would become the only program of its kind, he would have never restricted it in such a way.
Students started acting out in protest of the delays in letting them establish their own clubs – Harry had spotted more than a few groups gathering in the library, students from magical backgrounds sharing their knowledge to their Muggleborn friends who wanted to learn.
When those groups inevitably got dispersed by Madam Pince, they started holding impromptu lessons on the lawns outside, over breakfast, lunch and dinner in the Great Hall and in common rooms. The heads of houses made little to no effort to stop such unofficial lessons – Hermione told Harry in Potions that Professor McGonagall had corrected a student in the Gryffindor common room explaining something wrong about Yule, and then kept walking, making no attempt to disperse the group.
The school was positively buzzing with talk of the sacred days. Those discussions evolved naturally into dialogue over magical cores and types of magic.
Sitting outside after class on what was likely one of the last sunny days left in the year, Draco told Harry, Daphne, Tracey and Blaise that he had written to his father to ask what the Board of Governors could do about the situation with Dumbledore insisting on being the one to approve any other clubs to practice or learn about wizarding traditions, and the subsequent delays as the headmaster sifted through a mountain of applications.
Harry had sat up abruptly, unable to believe he had not thought of utilising Lucius to see if he could get the board to intervene. Draco had been smugly pleased at Harry’s vociferous praise for his thinking, and promised he would report back as soon as Lucius responded.
Daphne had sniffed, still maintaining her icy exterior around Draco, yet to forgive him. But she had admitted begrudgingly, “That was a good idea writing to your father.”
After Harry told Neville what Draco had done, the boy agreed to write to his grandmother, seeing if between she and Lucius, they could motivate the board to investigate the situation at the school.
As Harry sat outside, the wind ruffling his hair, he pondered if something like this would be enough to affect Dumbledore’s probation. There was less than three months left of the man’s probation, which was set to end in early December.
It was unlikely, given it was not a matter relating to student safety at the school. Not to mention, Dumbledore had not actually refused anyone’s proposals yet as far as Harry was aware.
As dinnertime began to approach, Harry and the others got up, stretching as they began to make a move to head inside the castle.
It was in the entrance hall that the identical red heads that were Ron’s older brothers approached the group.
“Hello first years,” one of them said with a roguish grin on his face. “Mind if we borrow Potter?”
“Why?” Draco demanded at the same time Harry replied easily, “Alright.”
He waved his friends away to head in for dinner, posture relaxed. The others reluctantly left, but not without shooting warning looks towards the twins. Harry knew the two had a notorious reputation for pranking other students and generally causing mayhem, but he rather liked them from what he’d heard. Ron often spoke about them with a mixture of admiration and exasperation.
“Care to step into our office?” one of the other twins asked, gesturing to what was clearly a broom cupboard.
With all the grace as though accepting an invitation into a stately parlour room, Harry replied, “Certainly.”
The twins seemed to like him playing along, still wearing amused grins on their faces.
Once inside the broom cupboard, one of the twins indicated an upturned bucket for Harry to sit on, flourishing like he was offering a throne.
Biting his lip not to laugh, Harry sat down on the upturned bucket, the twins hopping up on a crate together after closing the door, legs swinging.
“Might I ask the names of the people I just followed into a dark broom cupboard?” Harry asked, still trying not to laugh.
“Lumos,” one muttered, a soft light emitting from his wand. He glanced up and said, “I’m Fred.”
“I’m George,” the other twin introduced. He continued, “You know our brother, Ron.”
Harry nodded, replying, “Big Chudley Cannons fan.”
Fred sniggered, elbowing his brother and muttering, “Of course that’s how Ron is known. Bet he goes around introducing himself like that. We should have that engraved for his epitaph.”
George smirked, before his blue eyes flicked back to Harry and he stated, “Ron tells us you’re hooking him up with a Mirror Sphere test in the new year.”
“I am,” Harry replied. “You both interested?”
“We are,” Fred confirmed. “Afraid when you’ve got as many brothers as we do you start to lose track of whose got what magical core.”
Harry could not help his face tightening with disapproval. He still could not believe the Weasley couple could be so careless with their children’s heritage. Unable to resist, he reached out to brush against both boy’s magical cores.
They were neutral, like their younger brother, Ron. He also found it fascinating that whilst they were identical in appearance, their magical cores were so different. Fred’s seemed to sit coiled in one place, whilst George’s was spread out languidly.
Since Mabon, Harry had been noticing it had certainly not been a one-off with what happened with Daphne – his awareness was increasing in sensitivity. He was getting more impressions about other people’s magic, which was revealing interesting things about their personalities and their emotional state.
Realising the silence had been stretching a little too long, Harry refocused on the twins, and found himself under rather intense scrutiny, both twins heads cocked to one side.
Clearing his throat a little nervously, Harry replied, “I’ll get in touch with you both for a time to do the test. Professor McGonagall has to be present apparently for it.”
The twins both shrugged unbothered by her having to be present.
“Cheers, Potter,” Fred and George said in synch, each hopping down from the crate.
“You can call me Harry,” he replied, taking that as his cue to stand too, their impromptu meeting over.
The twins glanced at each other and parroted back in synch again, “Cheers, Harry.”
Harry grinned at them both, following them out of the broom cupboard, blinking in the bright torchlight of the entrance hall.
“You’d best be heading off now before your housemates think we’ve done something unspeakable to you and we’re hiding the evidence,” George commented playfully.
Harry replied dryly, “I’m pretty hard to kill actually.”
“George, he just joked about surviving the Killing Curse,” Fred whispered to his twin, eyes delighted.
“We should keep him,” George whispered back.
Harry laughed, waving goodbye to both as he called back, “See you round, Fred, George.” As he said their names he instinctively looked at each teenager in turn, smile still lingering around his eyes.
Heading towards the Great Hall he missed their eyes widening.
“Did he just guess which one of us was which correctly?” Fred asked in a hushed voice. “Our own mother can’t get us right half the time.”
“I don’t think he guessed, Fred,” George replied, shrewdly watching the boy slip into the hall. “He knew.”
Around a week after Draco and Neville had written to their father and grandmother, a meeting was arranged between the Board of Governors and the headmaster. The board were motivated not only by Lucius and Augusta, but by the multitude of letters written in by frustrated parents.
The students of Hogwarts had been writing home, complaining to their relatives of the situation at the school, and the delays in allowing any programs to celebrate wizarding traditions to be established, or to learn about them.
The situation threatened to spill out to the press, and whilst some on the board were more than happy for that to happen, others wished to protect the fragile reputation of the school. A discreet resolution was sought to appease the students and parents, but also accommodate Dumbledore’s concerns over the potential danger wizarding rituals could pose, and allow for monitoring of what was being taught to students.
After long negotiations with the board, Dumbledore announced over breakfast the following morning that after consulting the school governors they had developed a plan together to address the sudden increase in attention on wizarding traditions and the observance of sacred days.
Dumbledore first had to read out a notice prepared by the board for the student body. Draco had told Harry and the others gleefully that the board had made their demands clear and ordered the headmaster to make this public announcement word for word.
The notice read out at breakfast at the behest of the board confirmed that there were no school rules or regulations that outlawed the observance of the sacred days. Students were permitted to practice the rituals on school grounds if they so desired, however, they were to abide by curfew. It was a private matter for each student to decide if they wished to observe the sacred days or not. There was no need to establish a club purely for this purpose.
The one exception was Samhain.
Dumbledore impressed strongly on the student body that the Samhain ritual was not to be undertaken unsupervised. He reminded everyone that the curfew must be obeyed too, and the school would not tolerate students being out late in the night out of bed. Students would be able to register their interest in observing the night with their head of house one week beforehand, and each head of house would supervise the students in an assigned classroom to observe the ritual – within the bounds of the school curfew.
Harry felt caught between understanding why Samhain needed to be under supervision, and feeling annoyed at the restriction. It was frustrating, but it was true that an incorrectly set up Samhain ritual could end in a dangerous situation with ill intentioned forces being inadvertently invited in. However, the older students should at least be trusted to handle themselves without a teacher watching them.
Not to mention, the idea of a Samhain ritual being conducted amongst all of your classmates who signed up for it, and indoors no less, was simply wrong. It was an intensely private experience; best conducted with close friends or family. And the ritual should be done outdoors, in nature as intended. Harry wondered if students would even be allowed to prepare a fire, and how it would be decided who would participate in the ritual itself. It sounded like an invasive, logistical nightmare.
Dumbledore continued with the rest of the notice from the board, which outlined due to the sheer volume of proposals from students for clubs aimed at covering wizarding traditions too, not to mention the quantity of letters from parents and relatives of students, that the board would be implementing a standardised program at the school in collaboration with the Department of Magical Education.
This would address the concerns of the leadership at the school over how to monitor so many disparate clubs, and also allow all relevant parties to be involved in the structure and content of the program.
It was hoped the optional, after school program, could be implemented as early as January upon the return of students from the winter break.
It was a compromise for both sides – on the one hand, wizarding traditions were finally being reintroduced to the Hogwarts curriculum, albeit in an optional after school program. However, judging by Dumbledore’s involvement in the structure of the program, not to mention the Department of Magical Education, whom had a history of limiting any content being taught at the school that remotely aligned with anything dark, it was likely to be a shallow interpretation of wizarding traditions.
It was better than nothing of course, but Harry had to wonder if they would even teach students about magical cores. He wondered too whom they would bring in to teach the program – probably someone loyal to the department, who would provide a safe and sanitised version to students.
“Father did what he could,” Draco had muttered to Harry. “But it’s not just Dumbledore he had to fight against – it was the department too.”
“Things need to change from the top,” Harry murmured back, eyes fixed on Dumbledore who was now rolling the parchment containing the notice back up, inviting students to begin breakfast.
He was just a kid for now, but once he was old enough to actually wield the social power he had in his possession, Harry was going to get to work.