The volume of sound inside the Three Broomsticks was ear-splitting. The barman had a wild look in his eyes as he struggled to catch the orders that were launched at him from right and left. Mme Rosmerta chuckled as she put down a tray of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey on the table in front of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny.

“This is worse than when the trolls invaded us last May as they fled the battle,” she said. “Getting through this crowd...” she gestured at the room that was packed with sixth and seventh year students “...is like squeezing through a gnome’s keyhole”. She did not seem at all unhappy about it and they all laughed with her.

For their last year at Hogwarts, Harry and his friends had not arrived by the Hogwarts Express, but Apparated to the nearby village of Hogsmeade. So had the other students of age. Word had got around that the pubs were open again after restorations. Already from four o’clock in the afternoon - several hours before the Hogwarts Express would arrive and they could be let into the castle - the streets had begun to fill with students who greeted each other enthusiastically. Harry looked at the animated faces that surrounded him. People had so much to tell each other. Even if it had been a summer of arduous recuperation and of grieving most students seemed happy to return to something that resembled normal life again.

Ron was telling Dean Thomas, who had joined them at their table, how he and Hermione had gone tracking in the rain forest in Australia to meet up with croc hunters. Harry and Ginny had already heard the story on a number of occasions and listened indolently.

“The natives are almost the only magical people to be found in Australia,” said Ron. “White people who migrated there seem to have been mainly Muggles - we think. Hermione actually didn’t have any time to do research before we left and once we arrived, we had no idea where to find a wizard’s library. Trust me - she was mad about that.”

Ron cast a tender look at Hermione which she returned with an indulgent smile.

“The purpose of the trip was to find Hermione’s parents - which we did eventually. Once we had found them, in a town in the southwest of Australia where they were working as dentists, we had to go easy on them when we were to reverse the Memory Charms that Hermione had cast upon them - so we spent quite some time there, and it was not until the very last few weeks that we could actually do some exploring,” explained Ron.

Harry looked at Hermione but she averted her gaze. He had the impression that she was troubled every time Ron mentioned her parents, but as far as Harry knew, they had been brought home to England safe and sound.

“The forest people were welcoming and generous once they understood that we knew magic.” Hermione launched herself into the conversation. “It’s amazing how open they proved themselves to be, considering how different our branches of magic are. But they were curious and friendly and not suspicious at all. I think they must not have many Black Magic features in their culture.”

“No, because they were croc hunters!” Ron caught in again with enthusiasm. “They had built up a whole bunch of magic reverting to crocodiles. It was amazing!”

They were interrupted now and again by students coming up to their table to shake hands with them. Many wanted to say a few words of thanks to Harry for his exploits last term and express their admiration. Some drew up a chair and got into personal narratives in low voices, bending towards Harry. They told him how the reign of terror of Voldemort had plagued and affected their families and tried to convey in stifled voices their gratitude to Harry for finishing He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at last.

Harry listened patiently to the stories, nodding and humming in understanding. Sometimes he was particularly moved by what they told him, and felt his eyes fill with tears. He thanked them, but always finished the interaction by stressing the point that they had all fought and won over Voldemort together. It didn’t leave much time for private conversation with Ron and Hermione, however, and he felt desperate for a pause in the uncalled-for confidences. Therefore, he was delighted when Hagrid buoyantly settled down at their table and concealed Harry from the rest of the room with his large body.

“It’s nice to see you awake and well, ‘Arry,” said Hagrid in a low voice and winked at his young friend. Hagrid’s face was florid and he was slightly unfocused in his movements. Harry wondered whether Hagrid had forgotten that he would have to pick up the younger pupils when they arrived with the Hogwarts express and guide the first years across the lake and up to the castle. He whispered his concern to Hermione who sat next to him.

“I suspect Mme Rosmerta has some dried elderberries in stock that she can distribute”, said Hermione.

“Are they an antidote to drunkenness?” asked Harry. “I think I read something about it.”

“They neutralise the effects of Butterbeer and Firewhiskey,” answered Hermione. “The drawback is that the person who takes them won’t be able to have a drink for another six weeks or so, as they have a long lasting effect. So most people are reluctant to take them.”

“I believe that a few students might benefit from some as well. Do you picture this crowd getting inside the castle to have dinner in the Great Hall with Professor Snape presiding them?” Harry asked ironically.

“Ha, ha... a fine spectacle! Well, Ron and Ginny could use some to start with,” giggled Hermione. Harry wondered whether she was not a candidate herself. Harry usually went easy on drinks. He had learnt to be cautious during the years when he realized that he was connected with Voldemort. He had always dreaded to lose control over his own mind and risk being possessed by the dark wizard.

Ron gesticulated so wildly with his can of Butterbeer that the golden liquid splashed on the table as he told Hagrid about a present they had brought him from Australia.

“They’re outside in a cage. Didn’t want to bring them in here, they would be terrified,” said Ron.

“For once you’ll have some really cute pets at your hands and not the usual beasts that you surround yourself with,” said Hermione sternly.

“But are they magical creatures at all?” Hagrid asked sceptically. “They sound like some kind of ordinary Australian rabbits to me!”

“The forest people were delighted with them and always kept a family of Kangabbits around their settlement. They understand human language and they’re very amenable and helpful if you only take pains to explain things to them. The forest people mostly use them as guards. They’re great acrobats too. They advance by doing flying summersaults. I assure you - it’s magic,” Ron explained eagerly.

“What if they mate and multiply in number like rabbits and take over the whole forest? It’s in a vulnerable state after the battle,” said Hagrid, suspicious. “You need to be careful when you import animals from abroad.”

“Says the person who brought a giant spider into the castle and fed his whole family in the Forbidden Forest. Honestly, Hagrid!” exclaimed Ron. Hagrid only grunted in response.

“The Kangabbits are clever that way too,” intervened Hermione. “They mate and get a number of children who, however, will not reach sexual maturity until their parents die. So they’ll stay in groups of eight or ten and will not multiply exponentially as rabbits do.”

“Speaking of sexual maturity,” Ron blurted out. “Do you think they’ll allow grown up students to visit dormitories?”

“Ron!” squeaked Hermione and flushed red. Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan and Ginny laughed heartily.

“Have you forgotten what dormitories look like, Ron? What will you do of your mates?” Dean asked teasingly.

“We can do magic, no? You dress a tent or something around the bed and you soundproof it.”

“Stop it, Ron! You’ve been living in a tent for too long. It’ll do you good to go back to normal routines and be disciplined,” scolded Hermione.

“There are dungeons under the castle that are legendary for love meetings,” Seamus said dreamingly.

“Doesn’t sound very cosy to me.” Harry wrinkled his nose.

“Oh,” said Ginny, “I believe magic can remedy that. And passion...” she added and looked avidly at Harry. The others laughed.

At that moment the door to the pub opened and Harry watched Draco Malfoy walk in. The buzzing of voices almost died out for a few seconds before it rose to deafening levels as people started to talk animatedly to each other again. A fair-haired man followed Malfoy inside and Harry identified him as one of the Aurors he had been introduced to the week before. Mr Simmings scanned the room with an alert gaze, picked Harry out instantly, nodded and gave him a smile.

So Simmings was to be Malfoy’s attending Auror, Harry thought. He did not envy the man his job. The remaining Death Eaters would, naturally enough, view the Malfoys as traitors and probably persecute them. The Malfoy Manor had been Voldemort’s headquarters during almost his entire reign. The wealthy family had only switched sides in the nick of time. Lucius Malfoy had done his best in the press to exploit the fact that his wife Narcissa had helped Harry Potter to fool Voldemort during the final battle. But since Harry Potter, who was the only trustworthy person present on the occasion to be able to confirm the story, had refused to give any interviews at all to the Daily Prophet during the summer, the news had died out. Therefore, the Malfoys were discredited both by their former allies and by the prevailing establishment. They had not been sent to Azkaban right away, though, but were awaiting a trial. Harry did not think that Kingsley Shacklebolt would be as easily seduced by the Malfoy family’s money as previous ministers of Magic had proven to be. It probably would take some time before the Malfoys would be able to reclaim their position at the top of the magical society again.

Harry watched the barman hesitate before pouring Malfoy the Firewhiskey that he ordered, and noticed that Mme Rosmerta pretended not to see the glass waiting to be served. Malfoy tried to get Simmings fetch it for him. Harry watched the Auror lift his eyebrows and shrug, and Malfoy went to fetch the drink himself on the counter. When he lifted the glass to his lips to have a first sip, Jacob Duffle, a stout sixth year boy from Hufflepuff, knocked his elbow from the side so that Malfoy spilled out the greater part of his drink. Jacob did not apologise but gave Malfoy a cold look. Some students sitting nearby laughed malevolently. Malfoy returned to Simmings without retorting. He made to settle down next to a couple of Slytherin girls, but they called for Jacob to join them so that the only seat became occupied. Nick Smith, a Muggle-born boy from Ravenclaw rose and launched at Malfoy:

“Why are you back? We were not welcome last year. This year it’s your turn to keep away. Your presence is an insult to all Muggle-borns!”

Harry frowned. The atmosphere was getting nasty. He rose to approach Malfoy. He felt everybody’s eyes on him. He inclined his head just a little and Malfoy greeted him in the same way, stiffly.

“Give my regards to your mother, please, and thank her for her help last May,” said Harry in a sufficiently loud voice for those nearby to hear. A murmur went through the room. Malfoy inclined his head again, a pink shade spreading over his cheeks. Harry did not care whether Malfoy was pleased or annoyed by Harry’s initiative. He had not done it to save Malfoy, but to check the nasty commentaries emerging from the crowd.

Harry turned decisively to Simmings, shook his hand and asked him if they had had time to carry out all the security measures planned. Simmings was quick to catch the situation and gestured Harry and Malfoy over to a table a little hidden away at the other side of the bar.

”Mrs Steadfast worked all weekend. At least the ramparts are nearly mended and all the security zones are in place. The castle has been searched several times as well,” said Simmings.

“No one knows all the hidden places of Hogwarts,” said Harry wisely. He noticed a couple sitting at the other end of the table: Mr Burgess and a sullen-looking, slightly plump woman, almost a girl. Mr Burgess gestured for them to join at their table. He rose and greeted Harry with the same effusion as last time, before he introduced his companion.

“This is Melanie Cork - Professor Cork I should say, as she is the new teacher of Potions, but we were just talking about how strange it is for both of us, as inexperienced teachers, to call ourselves professors. Luckily, we won’t be teaching your lot here, we’re only teaching up to OWL level,” said Burgess.

Miss Cork curled her lips sourly as if she did not agree with the demeaning description of herself. She shook hands with Harry and looked only quickly into his eyes before she diverted her gaze.

“Who’ll teach Potions at NEWT level then?” asked Harry, although he had an inkling of what the answer might be.

“Professor Snape himself.” Mr Burgess answered in Miss Cork’s place. “He’ll teach both Defence Against the Dark Arts and Potions in the advanced classes.”

“He does like to keep busy,” Harry said dryly.

“A man with many irons in the fire,” Mr Simmings said importantly. “He works with Mrs Steadfast too, on a consultant basis you could say.”

“What do you mean?” asked Harry. “What does he do besides what concerns the security at Hogwarts?”

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to imply it did not concern the security at Hogwarts.” Simmings tried awkwardly to take back what he had said. “Naturally it would be a task for the headmaster. That’s why he’s so involved.” Simmings went quiet. Mr Burgess gave him a weird look.

“Professor Slughorn has retired once again then?” Harry asked Miss Cork. He would like to hear her speak.

“Haven’t you heard? Didn’t you read the newspaper last week?” It was Mr Burgess who intervened eagerly again. “The professor resigned with short notice. The old man has gone into business! There was a long article about it in the Daily Prophet. He’s going to launch a new powerful antidote to snake bites and he’s off to India with a stock of ready-made bottles.”

“He does what?” exclaimed Harry.

“It’s based on an extremely rare ingredient, the Acromentula venom and is, allegedly, very complicated to brew. He has already made some money by selling it to hospitals in Europe, and is hoping to make a fortune in India and the rest of the world,” supplied Burgess.

“That’s nothing but disgusting!” cried Harry. “Slughorn should just give them the formula for free and not try to make money out of it! The antidote’s not very complicated to brew at all. Why do people let themselves be tricked?”

“Well, the selling argument,” said Mr Burgess with an ironical glint in his eye, “...is that the famous “Slughorn-potion”, as he calls it, has saved the Headmaster of Hogwarts school for Witchcraft and Wizardry from the snake bites of the Dark Lord himself! They even had a picture of Professor Snape in the article.”

“Oh, really! Snape must hate to be used for marketing like that!” exclaimed Harry. “Or is he into it somehow, making money too?” he added as an afterthought.

“I think not.” Miss Cork opened her mouth for the first time. She had a mature and rather sensual tone of voice. Malfoy, who had not participated in the conversation but sat with his gaze fixed on a carving on the table, lifted his eyes to look at her. “The headmaster called me in with short notice as you might imagine,” she continued haughtily, “and when he explained the situation to me there was no way of mistaking his irritation, not to say fury, about Professor Slughorn’s way of acting.”

“How come Snape turned to you?” asked Malfoy this time.

“I left Hogwarts five years ago. I was Professor Snape’s student and I was good at potion-making. I’ve been working in an Apothecary since“, she answered. Malfoy and Miss Cork fell into conversation.

“I’ll go for more drinks. Can I get you something?” asked Mr Burgess and Malfoy took the opportunity of having another Firewhiskey. Harry excused himself to his new acquaintances. He had just spotted Neville and Luna at a table even further in under the sloping roof behind the bar counter. Neville tried to stand up as Harry approached but had to bend over not to hit his head. He greeted Harry with a smile and an outstretched hand. Harry grabbed it and pulled Neville into a big hug.

“I’m so glad to see you!” he exclaimed. “You look well!” They sat down.

“Hello Luna,” Harry said fondly to the fair-haired, eerie-looking girl.

“Hello Harry!” she responded dreamingly. “You look wiser without your glasses,” she observed. “Thin... you’re thin. You’ve had a bad summer too, haven’t you? Attacked by Muffle-beings, or what?”

Harry felt himself blush. Luna’s power of perception was frighteningly accurate. Combined with the belief that the world was inhabited by invisible or non-existing bizarre creatures, her strange observations made most people laugh at her, however.

“I had a bad summer too,” said Luna slowly. “My father’s gone, you know... but Neville here saved me.”  Neville laid his right hand over both her small hands on the table between them. “I’m used to grief of course, since my mother died and I’m not afraid of it. I wandered around in father’s house, trying to tidy things up a bit. But there were Nargle-sniffers and Hazy-makers and Tripsy-happers that assailed me from everywhere and even though I’m not afraid of them, I got so tired from trying to make them see reason that I didn’t really know where I was anymore. I was dissolving in light vapours that sailed away in different directions and I felt torn and unreal, if you know what I mean?” She looked inquiringly at Harry. “So I went to Neville’s grandmother’s place and he made me a bit more real again. He has a strong and constant focal point of magic in his being, whereas mine is wandering about too much. I’ve sort of attached myself to Neville to steady myself up. It’s pleasant to be attached to such a friendly and warm person.” Neville blushed when she spoke. Harry didn’t understand much of what Luna said, but he thought it was beautifully put anyhow and he touched her arm and said kindly:

“I’m glad that you’re here, Luna. I like to meet you in the real world from time to time.” 

“Thank you, Harry,” she whispered in a frail voice.

Harry went back to Ron and Hermione. Ginny had moved away to some friends at another table. She waved happily at Harry. She was in her right element. She was having a wonderful time and she certainly deserved it, Harry thought. As he passed the bar, he rounded Hagrid who stood in front of Mme Rosmerta with arms hanging at his sides. He made plucky efforts to convince the unyielding lady that he did not need the elderberries she presented to him.

“Take them, Hagrid,” Harry hissed up to the half-giant’s shoulder as he passed, “or someone at the castle will be discontented.” Hagrid slung him a dark look, grabbed the berries from Mme Rosmerta’s hand and walked out of the pub, chewing demonstratively. Quite a few people laughed at him. The time grew nearer for them all to break up and make way to the castle. The animation grew to a crescendo as students wanted to savour the last moments of thoughtless freedom.

Harry looked out over the crowd. Only a few days ago he had not believed it possible to belong to this gang. The brittle boundaries between the shameful existence he had almost put himself in, and the exuberant happiness of belonging, almost overwhelmed him. As he looked at a bunch of sixth year students who were joking and bickering at each others, his eyes were caught by a brown-haired boy standing in their midst. Harry could see that the boy was quite out of it - he smiled and nodded at people around him but the eyes were without life. Harry could have sworn that the boy did not hear a word of what was said. Suddenly their gazes met and the boy stared for a few seconds at Harry who made an almost imperceptible, sympathising twitch with his head. Someone rose between them and eye contact was lost.

There was a great hubbub as people scraped their chairs, paid their drinks and collected their belongings to set off. Harry left together with Ron and Hermione. He heard Ginny giggling with her girlfriends behind him and he saw Malfoy in the company of Simmings move ahead of them. The crowd streamed like a lemming migration along the winding road. They reached and passed the ramparts through the golden gate that was now in place, but when they approached the entrance to the castle the crowd slowed down and stopped. People further down the line started to shout irritably at the people in front to move on.

“Security,” someone said and the word was passed down the impatient line. They advanced slowly and as they finally approached the entrance, they heard upset voices, screams and the hissing voice of Mr Filch. They soon saw the vicious caretaker in front of what looked like a narrow pergola overgrown with a thick leaved plant.

“Planta sensitiva” - It will punch you if you touch its leaves,” said Neville. They watched how students were let into the tunnel of leaves one by one. A great proportion of them were expelled from the pergola. These students were caught by Filch and forced to take a gulp from a big bottle that Filch handed them.

“Elderberry juice, I reckon. It’s even stronger than the dried berries. It steadies them so that they can go through,” said Hermione. “A bit humiliating but effective, I’d say. Professor Snape is making a statement here, pointing out who’s in charge,” she analysed sententiously. But when it was her turn, she swore loudly as the plant threw her out as well. “It’s hypersensitive!” she complained. Neville and Harry passed the pergola without difficulties, however, even if Filch made Harry come back and do it no less than three times.

“Are you fooling me, Potter?” Filch said suspiciously. Harry shrugged and did not enter into an argument but waited until Filch let him go. Luna, on the other hand, had problems even after she had drunk her potion.

“I’m simply an unsteady person,” she tried to explain to Filch who made her take three gulps in all, before he let Neville stun the plant temporarily as she went through.

The crowd that entered the Great Hall was less happy and much grumpier than the crowd which had left the Three Broomsticks. But at the familiar sight of the beautifully decorated hall, spirits rose somewhat again. The ceiling mirroring the sky was the deepest dark blue. Candles were lit in the air. The younger pupils were already seated, except the first-years who were to come in later for the sorting. The older students sat down at their respective tables. Harry looked up at the podium where the staff table was placed. The chair in the middle was empty.  

Everything was so familiar. What if Dumbledore turned up and sat down at his usual place and looked out over them with his penetrating blue gaze? Harry closed his eyes and lowered his head at the surge of regret that mounted in him. When he looked up again, Professor McGonagall entered the room, followed by the small eleven-year-old pupils for whom it was the first time to enter the Great Hall. Harry could see the awe on their faces. They were unusually numerous. Harry began to wonder how accommodations and class rooms would be managed this year with such a surplus of students who wanted to catch up. To his surprise the first year pupils were followed by no other than Snape in company with Mrs Steadfast.

So Snape had not fallen for the temptation to do a more spectacular entry than that, Harry thought. He had not known what to expect. Snape spoke in a low voice to Mrs Steadfast before he climbed the podium in a few resilient steps. The stern professor was clad in black as usual, and his long cloak billowed behind him. Mrs Steadfast took position discreetly at the side. The humming voices in the hall abated to silence. Snape greeted them all, stressing the point that he especially welcomed “...all those who were prohibited by the dark regime to attend school last year – I’m speaking of course of Muggle-borns and those who resisted Lord Voldemort in other ways.”

“The words are all very well. I just wish he wouldn’t look so blank-faced when he speaks them,” Hermione whispered to Harry.

“At least he didn’t call Voldemort the Dark Lord as he used to do,” Harry pointed out in a murmur.

They proceeded to the sorting. The sorting hat made its introduction to the four houses at Hogwarts and described the qualities that characterised Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. It finished off with a personal reflection:

Once it was my fate to sort

A boy who featured Voldemort.

Slytherins should not feel shame,

He would have turned out just the same.

 It was too late to save him.

He was vanquished at some cost.

Let not the sacrifice be lost.

We have to fight what is vile

And struggle then to reconcile,

Or war might be repeated.

Gryffindors, you brave,

Teach us to behave.

Hufflepuffs, you nice,

Teach us to entice

A gentle clime of conduct.

Ravenclaws, your wit

Teaches how to fit,

Slytherins, you cold,

Show us how to mould,

Into worth and keenness.

Is it seething to comply?

Listen closely to my reply:

To stress the point and make it clear,

I give the most part of this year

To find your understanding.

You cannot rush a complex course -

Guilt is involved and remorse.

Do not retaliate in fear,

But find the guts to house - or clear -

Your distrust and misgivings.

Harry followed the sorting distractedly as he contemplated what the sorting hat had said. He looked at Ron who was unusually silent since taking the elderberry potion. Ron was staring at a small, dark-haired boy who disappeared under the hat to emerge as a Ravenclaw pupil and join his table under applause.

“It’s so long ago and yet not,” said Ron with regret. “How fortunate that we didn’t know then all the things that were going to happen.” He looked dreamingly at Harry. “We just cared about fitting in and about eating deserts and...”

“You’re getting sentimental,” Hermione bickered at him.

“Leave him be sentimental then, there’s no harm,” said Harry in a conciliatory tone.

When the sorting was done, Snape swept forward again, made a gesture with his hand and suddenly the tables filled up with delicate food of all kinds and tastes. “Tuck in!” said Snape. Most of the students had already thrown themselves over the dishes and didn’t hear him. Harry, however, sat still and looked at the new headmaster. He was sure the short command had been a tribute to Dumbledore who used to make a point of not being prolix before dinner. Just as Snape’s gaze turned towards the Gryffindor table, Harry blinked and swallowed, turned his head and started to help himself to some salmon tart and pommes duchesses.

After dessert, Snape rose to make some announcements. He started with the introduction of the new teachers. Save Mr Burgess and Miss Cork, there was a new teacher in Muggle relations. The subject had been suspended - or at least altered beyond recognition - last year as the former teacher, Charity Burbage, had been killed by Voldemort the summer before last. Snape also seemed, at last, to have gotten rid of Professor Trelawney, the Divinations teacher and a timid middle-aged man, a Professor Sawman, was introduced as the new teacher on the post. Miss Cork was sensationally pronounced the new head of Slytherin at which the older Slytherin students sniggered in disbelief.

“As former head of Slytherin, I’ll personally keep an eye on you as well,” Snape added warningly to the Slytherin table. Harry noticed that Malfoy did not once look up at Snape.

“I’m soon going to give the word to Mrs Steadfast who is the head of the Auror’s Office from the Ministry of Magic and in charge of security measures at Hogwarts. Before that, though, I take upon myself to make some elucidations about the regulations at Hogwarts. First of all, let me make it clear that rules apply to everybody without exception. Now, extra rules have been added to help those who repeat a year for various reasons focus on their education. This is particularly important for the fifth and seventh years who will pass their OWL and NEWT exams at the end of next term. As you might have noticed, no prefects have been chosen among students who repeat their year. Nor will those students be allowed to join up for leisure activities...  including Quidditch teams.”

An outcry of upset voices echoed through the Hall.

“You can’t do that!” someone spoke loudly.” Ginny bent forward over the Gryffindor table to seek Harry out with an outraged gaze. No quidditch! Harry felt a surge of anger and regret but it subsided surprisingly quickly. There was a point in concentrating on schoolwork this year. Quidditch training had a tendency to swallow an amazing amount of your time. It’s just that it had been nicer to make that choice on your own and not to be forced into it by regulations. He sighed and cast Snape a dark glance.

“You’re unusually numerous this year.” Snape broke in and silenced the buzzing. “In particular we have many witches and wizards of age and above. A lot of you have already lived a year outside this castle and might have savoured the privileges of adult life. This, however, is a school, and rules apply notwithstanding your age. So let me stress a few points: Social visits to common rooms only. No visits to dormitories. Do I make myself clear?”

A few laughs were heard on top of disapproving mutterings.

“I also happen to know that the older students gathered at Hogsmeade this afternoon. I hope that you had a pleasant time. But...” Snape sharpened his voice. “The partake of pleasures is to be such that it does not have a pernicious influence on the behaviour expected at school. Most of you have become acquainted with Professor Sprout’s “Planta sensitiva” tonight. That’s to show the standard that is expected from you when you step inside this castle.”

A long-faced boy at the Ravenclaw table, Patrick Mattey, rose and addressed Snape directly.

“It was humiliating. You limit our freedom and attack our integrity, that’s what you’re doing. We just got rid of one tyrant. We don’t want to live under another this year!” he shouted.

A shocked buzz was followed by silence. Snape took a step towards the speaker and replied calmly.

“It’s not my intention to tyrannise you. I merely clarify the rules of this school. You’re of age. If you want to live a different kind of life, you’re free to quit,” he said.

People started to talk animatedly again.

"One more thing...” Snape drew a breath.  “During the past year you have lived difficult moments. Some have suffered severe losses. You might have stood on different sides, if not in action, maybe in opinions. I want the older students to set the example to the younger pupils. No fights in the school corridors, no retaliations within these walls or on Hogwarts grounds at all. And I might add that the Ministry decrees that acts of reprisals are punishable offences wherever they take place. People who are charged for committing crimes during the Voldemort regime will face trials and it’s the Ministry’s responsibility to pronounce judgements on them. It’s not up to you!”

The hall started to buzz again. Some heads nodded in agreement but others were shaken in angry disbelief.  A loud voice from the Hufflepuff table cried out.

“You only say that to save your own skin!” And from further down the hall: “How can they let you stay as headmaster?”  Snape’s lips were tightly pressed together. The teachers at the staff table squirmed uneasily. Professor McGonagall made an attempt to rise but when Snape looked at her she sat down. Snape spoke again.

“Last year was difficult. I know that all those of you who attended Hogwarts witnessed and suffered atrocities from the Death Eaters who taught here. But Voldemort reigned. My powers were limited to confine the damage to a minimum.”

Harry heard a nearby Gryffindor girl sneer. “Yeah, you say that. What do we know?” Harry was surprised by the strength of the protests and the depth of the distrust among the pupils toward Snape. It dawned on him again to what extent Snape’s role during the war had been ambiguous, and how confusing it must be for someone who had not witnessed Snape’s memories, like Harry had done, to make out on which side of the line Snape had stood. He looked at Ron, who sat with an open mouth and a confused look in his eyes, and at Hermione who frowned and shook her head.

“You might have to say something, Harry,” she whispered to him. Harry pulled a wry face. It was the last thing he wanted to do. He was sure that Snape would not appreciate if he interfered. Jacob Duffle at the Hufflepuff table rose.

“You restrained it to a minimum, did you? You Crucioed people! Is that what you’re going to do to us if you catch us at it, in one of the dungeons?” Several students gasped at the vulgar allusion and the entire Hall went silent. Snape’s face was white with anger. Harry saw some first years duck in their seats, terrified.

“I defy you to prove that I hurt a single pupil last year.” Snape spoke warningly in his quiet, waspish voice. A tall girl from Slytherin rose, with a calculating look in her eyes.

“You had other persons to do that for you, didn’t you?” she challenged Snape.

Three persons were standing up - one each at the Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and Slytherin tables.

“That’s enough! I’m the headmaster of this school and those of you who have a problem with that will have to turn to the School Board or to the Ministry. If you want to stay as pupils, however, you will behave accordingly and accept me as your headmaster,” insisted Snape in a grim voice, but no one sat down. Heads turned towards the Gryffindor table. Harry had been whispering to Dean Thomas and felt the gazes in his neck as he leaned back. Dean rose and spoke simply.

“We think that what happened last year should be left for the Ministry to inquire into. We believe Professor Snape has done an efficient job at restoring the school and we’re happy for the opportunity to complete our education. We’re here to work and not to cause a riot. And… er…” Dean glanced quickly at Harry. ”Ah, yeah… we believe all should consider what the sorting hat just said,” finished Dean a bit sheepishly.

“Well spoken from the Gryffindor table!” A resolute Mrs Steadfast stepped forward at Snape’s side before anyone in the audience could retort. “As the person in charge, on the Ministry’s behalf, of security at Hogwarts, I’d like to add that any assault on the legitimate school management will be taken down by my Aurors, who are guarding the school from attacks from the outside as well as from within,” said Mrs Steadfast and proceeded firmly to go through security regulations which included a short term restriction to exit the castle without the company of an Auror, or a teacher, until the ramparts were properly repaired, as well as an absolute prohibition to enter the Forbidden Forest, applying for the entire school year. When she finished, Snape made an imperative movement with his hand.

“Now, off you go to your houses. Time tables will be distributed by Professor McGonagall after breakfast tomorrow. Prefects, guide your new wards!” he said. People obeyed him and rose.

”That was a narrow escape,” Hermione murmured as they left the table. ”I’ve never seen such determined distrust directed at an authority.”

”It’s a complex matter,” Harry answered vaguely. He was tired and did not wish to linger on the subject.

”No quidditch for students who repeat a class…” muttered Ginny and shook her head. ”That excludes a lot of people. Now the positions of the team are completely open.”

“It’s actually a relief not to be a Prefect,” muttered Ron as they made their way to Gryffindor’s common room behind the troop of first years, each of the four friends in deep thoughts.