FROM THE ASHES
by Yih + Nenya Entwhistle

1. The Past is Never Forgotten

Harry Potter woke up like every other morning, but today was different. It was the last day of the summer holidays and like usual he would be going back to school by a Hogwarts-issued portkey that would transport him to the Great Hall. Harry stretched lazily on his bed and pulled the duvet he had kicked off himself in the middle of the night over his lower body. He then lowered his hand and lightly touched himself. He sighed and pushed his face into the pillow, moaning softly.

"Harry!" he heard his mum calling from downstairs. "You better get downstairs and have some breakfast before your portkey activates!"

Harry groaned and removed his hand from his boxers. He sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes; then he got up and went to the bathroom to do his morning ablutions. Harry threw a shirt on over himself and headed down the creaky stairs that his father said he was going to fix one of these days, but had never gotten around to actually doing it. Harry ran a hand through his unruly hair, wishing once again that he didn't have such difficult hair.

"There you are," Lily said, turning around with her wand in hand and breakfast floating in front of her. "Better pick what you like before daddy gets down." She grinned and Harry scowled.

"Mum…" Harry put the whine in his voice only because he really wished Lily would stop teasing him about the whole 'daddy' thing. Okay, so, fine, he did call his father daddy when he was distressed, anybody would!

Lily accio'ed one of the two muffins to her and Harry quickly grabbed the other one just when he heard James barreling down the stairs. Harry took a huge bite out of the muffin and chewed fast, knowing that marking that the muffin was his wouldn't do him much good if James was really hungry. James scowled and took the banana and a piece of toast.

"You two," he muttered, biting into his bread. He concentrated his glare on Harry before shifting his attention to Lily, his glare softening quite noticeably. "You could make three muffins, you know."

Lily beamed and shook her head. "How would I get you out of bed otherwise?"

"Evil, impossible, cruel woman," James uttered softly to Lily as he headed toward her with that look Harry knew meant kissing.

Harry immediately mimicked that he was gagging in the background. Of course, he didn't really mind his parents' blatant show of affection, but he couldn't clap for them. That would be kind of strange and rather disturbing.

"Well," James declared, somehow managing to speak around the rest of the toast he'd shoved into his mouth, "I'm off to the Ministry." He winked at Harry. "You try to stay out of trouble."

Harry rolled his eyes with as much exaggeration as possible, not that it did him much good when his father was busy giving his mother another round of thorough kissing that would have been so embarrassing in public. Harry waved goodbye, standing next to Lily as James threw the powder into the fireplace and flooed over to his office at the Ministry.

Once he was gone, Lily smoothed out her apron and turned around with a warm smile on her face. "You don't have much time."

"Neither do you," he responded.

Harry looked up at the clock that said James was working and that Lily needed to do something and that he also needed to be doing something. His mother had to be at her job as a Dark Artifacts specialist soon. Harry knew she had called in to arrive later than usual, so that she could send him off. Harry still remembered when he'd gone off to Hogwarts his first year, how nervous his parents had been that they'd both taken the entire morning off and had gone with him by portkey to Hogwarts. Luckily, his parents had only blended into the crowd as most other parents had accompanied their child.

Lily held out her arms, limping forward a step, and Harry didn't need to be asked to go to her. He rushed forward and hugged her as tightly as she hugged him. He kissed both of her cheeks and said, "Don't worry. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure?" she asked with the slightest bit of hesitation in her voice.

Harry nodded. "It'll be fine."

"Be careful," she murmured. "Promise me."

"I promise, but you know it's safe at Hogwart. It's neutral ground."

"For now," she whispered so lightly that Harry knew she didn't mean for him to hear that. "Study hard, but have fun. Don't grow up too fast." Lily raised her wand and summoned the acceptance letter to Hogwarts that Harry had received when he was eleven.

He took the letter and at precisely nine o'clock the portkey activated. Harry saw his mother's smile waver as he was pulled from his home to his home away from home.

Harry Potter was returning to Hogwarts.

...

The Great Hall was already bustling with activity when Harry arrived as the upper years were already there and sitting at their respective house tables. Harry grinned when he saw Hermione and held out his arms just in time to catch her when she leapt at him. He ended up getting a face full of her thick hair before she released him. Hermione smiled back at him and quickly kissed him on the cheek then she drew back and gave him a critical inspection.

"I do believe you've gotten taller," she said. "About time."

Harry rolled his eyes, thinking once again that Hermione reminded him an awful lot of his mother when she wasn't busy being his best friend and sister that he'd never had. "Your hair is the same as ever," he remarked. "Always in my face."

Now it was Hermione's turn to look annoyed and she wrinkled her nose as if to say she didn't like what he'd said, but she was a mature individual and she wasn't going to let that bother her. Yeah, right. It did bother her and he knew it. She just liked to pretend that it didn't and it was her choice. Harry knew better than to interfere with her when she got it in her head to do something, like in third year when she wanted to take all of the possible classes instead of selecting a few and had to use a time turner that took an incredible physical toll on herself and on him. At one point that year, he swore she was making him as crazy and as anxious as she was.

"Harry," Hermione said sharply causing him to snap out of his thoughts and he smiled ruefully at her.

"Sorry about that."

Instead of saying that he apologized too much, Hermione grabbed his hand, tugging him along with her to the Gryffindor table where they found a spot opposite of Ron and Neville. The latter waved at them cheerfully in greeting, whereas the former pointedly ignored him and turned to talked to Seamus.

"So," Hermione continued as if no one would notice the snub, "since you're rubbish at communication like the stereotypical boy, now I can finally ask you what you've been doing all summer?"

Harry scratched the back of his head and gave Neville a pointed look that said help, but of course he pretended to be absorbed in conversation that was going on next to him, ignoring the both of them. Lucky him, Hary thought and stifled the urge to sigh. No reason to get Hermione more on his case than she already was. It wasn't like he hadn't written to her. Hedwig had carried a few letters to Hermione. It was just he didn't feel the need to write almost daily to her like she did to him and honestly he didn't have much to say.

"What do you want to know?" Harry asked. "I told you most of what happened already."

"But not in detail," Hermione retorted. "I know what you did, but not how or why you did it."

This time it was impossible to hold back his sigh. Harry shrugged and said, "I did it because I liked it and as for how, depends on what I did, I suppose."

Hermione made a weird, strangling sound in her throat that she always did when she wasn't satisfied with his answer. Well, tough, that was the best she was going to get. Hermione was a great friend, considering everything, but sometimes she wanted to know and analyze far too much into his life than he was willing to let her. How many times did he have to remind her that he wasn't a book?

"I wonder how many first years there'll be," Neville remarked. "Last year was the lowest number ever…"

"Most are going elsewhere," Ron stated, brushing his long red fringe out of his eyes. He glanced at Hermione as he said this, a hopeful look in his eyes, but she did not even look at him in acknowledgment. "Beaubaxtons, especially if they're from the south, nearly the same distance as coming up here. Some are even heading to the Americas."

"Regardless, Hogwarts is still the best magical school in the world," Hermione declared. "And it's safer than it's ever been with the Neutrality Clause that's—"

"NOW IF YOU WILL PLEASE STAND AND WELCOME THE FIRST YEARS WITH THE SCHOOL SONG," Dumbledore's voice boomed over the raucous conversations. Harry and his friends all stood up and saluted to the stars, sun, and sky hovering overhead before they joined the Headmaster in song. While they sang, Harry scanned the first years, counting mentally and thought that there might be a small increase from last year's numbers, but in all likelihood there wouldn't be more than five or six new students added to each house.

When the song was over, the Headmaster gestured for the older students to take their seat and McGonagall lead the first years up to the stool and to the sorting hat.

In the times of war
We are called to action
To journey far
From our comfort zones
And I know the hardships
Will build your character
And develop your relationships
With others and yourself
So will you seek
In the shadowy corners
To find what makes you, unique?
Or will you falter
But don't worry, I am here
To help you on the road
So don't fear
Should your endless ambition
Say you are Slytherin
Should your brave intuition
Say you are Gryffindor
Should your sharp cognition
Say you are Ravenclaw
Should your loyal volition
Say you are Hufflepuff
For it is time to ignore the tradition
Within the houses
That says the only answer is isolation
Because in these difficult times, we must unite!

And so, after that rousing and oh so appropriate song, McGonagall called the names and the first years were sorted: four to Slytherin, four to Ravenclaw, six to Hufflepuff, and six to Gryffindor. Not as evenly divided as it could have been, but then you couldn't force a person into a house that they were ill-suited for. The new Gryffindors looked far too pleased with themselves, but Harry guessed that they thought they were in the bravest house.

Oh Harry didn't deny that Gryffindors were courageous, more deaths in the War had come from their house than any other, but they also were more foolhardy and more likely to charge into the battlefield and completely disregard their commander's orders. That was deadly. That was utterly stupid. That was something Harry didn't want to understand, but he did – all too well. He didn't like to admit that his greatest faults were the stereotypical clichés of his house. At least he recognized them now. He hadn't wanted to.

Harry shuddered and told himself to calm down, especially when Hermione touched his arm gently. "Are you all right?" she asked.

He nodded, feeling uncomfortable at all the eyes that were on him, especially Ron's. "Yeah."

"Are you sure?" Hermione had that look in her eyes like she knew exactly why he was shuddering. She was right too. "It's okay if you're not."

Harry shrugged it off, just like he had tried to when it had happened. Almost three years later, it still haunted his dreams. He could still feel her brown eyes staring at him, open and vacant, while the hissing in the background deafened his ears. Harry took a slow, deep breath and forced himself to look to the head table where Headmaster Dumbledore was about to begin his traditional opening speech.

"Life, as you may have seen and even may know of firsthand, has been constant in the blood that has been shed on both sides," Dumbledore began in a soft voice that somehow managed to amplify throughout the Great Hall, "but there is hope that one day such terrible times will come to an end and here at Hogwarts we strive to unite the differences that make wizard-kind exceptional through the understanding that we are all magical and special.

"And I trust this understanding I speak of will also be given to others not of Hogwarts, those that live in Hogsmeade and other wizarding villages and also to students from magical schools outside of Britain. Because a great event has been coordinated between Hogwarts, Beauxbatons, and Durmstrang to revive the Triwizard Tournament where the greatest young wizard of our day will be decided and Hogwarts has been chosen to play host!"

...

Chatter, always loud after any holiday, was excessive today after Dumbledore announced the revival of the Triwizard Tournament. Harry slumped onto the sofa, sinking into the raggedy red cushion, listening to the excitement in his fellow Gryffindors' voices, thinking that Dumbledore certainly knew how to stir talk of something other than the War. That was good, he supposed, for children—especially the first years—not to have to think about what was going on in the world around them. But it wasn't like thinking about it could be avoided when it was happening.

"Doom and gloom," Hermione remarked, "is on your face and it isn't especially attractive."

Harry slid his eyes to her and then looked away, avoiding her gaze. "Look at them." He nodded at the lower years, standing in the middle of the room, eagerly talking about the upcoming tournament, speculating on who the Hogwarts Champion would be. "Not worried about what's happening outside."

"Harry, they're just children." Hermione sounded exasperated, but she often was when she was lecturing him about not thinking about the War as much as he did. It wasn't like he tried to think about, it was just rather unavoidable when… when his family was so involved.

"Don't say they're too young," he hissed back. "Don't say that, not when—"

"But they are," she said, her words brushing against his ear. "Despite what is going on out there, they should have a chance to be what they are… children."

"That won't help them prepare for the real world," Harry said, knowing at this instant he sounded like a true Gryffindor—very headstrong. "That won't help them when they have to take their place in the War."

"Maybe it'll be over by that time." Hermione looked over at where the first years were convening with the prefects to find out where their rooms were located. "Who knows?"

"It hasn't ended yet and it's gone on for twenty years," Harry said, looking down at his hands. Sometimes he wondered why the War had gone on as long as it had, why it hadn't collapsed in a few years like other wars in the past had, especially when the ideals they were fighting for were slowly being lost after each battle they fought. "I don't think it'll end anytime soon, not unless something drastic happens and one side somehow obliterates the other and that's unlikely. We're at a draw and have been at one for years."

"And closer to peace," Hermione whispered, "I think."

"I don't think either side would be willing to concede," Harry muttered, thinking that the only ceasefire that had ever been mutually agreed upon by both sides was Hogwarts. And, if he thought more about it, wars never ended in a draw. There was always a winner and a loser. "Not when it's gone on this long. If only..."

The bell, given by both the Light and Dark to signify the truce they held at Hogwarts, rang its beautiful chimes throughout the school grounds to ring in the beginning of a new year and the start of the very first class. Harry and Hermione both stood and grabbed the parchment that had suddenly popped in front of them that listed the schedule of classes they had chosen from the year before. Harry grimaced a bit when he saw that his first class was Potions. Excellent way to start the year, he thought, class with the professor that hated him the most.

"So," Hermione said, peering over his shoulder, "you've got Professor Snape too. Partners?"

"Of course," he said.

Harry smiled and slung his arm over Hermione's shoulders, grabbing both of their bags with his free hand, as he steered them out of the Gryffindor dorms and to the stairwell that led to the basement where the Potions laboratory was. He didn't have to tell her of course, it was a given in any class they shared that they would sit next to each other and work together. It had been like that since the first year and that constancy kept Harry grounded when the world outside was falling apart and he felt utterly powerless to stop it.

...

Another healing potion and another student grumbled, getting thumped on the back of the head by Snape for his effort. Harry could understand both sentiments rather well. It seemed like all they ever did in Potions was brew healing potions that differed only in usage and difficulty. Though it might be a little redundant at times, how anyone could overlook the importance of each perfectly brewed potion was beyond him. Clearly there was a purpose behind why they were making these specific potions and Harry didn't mind how boring it was as long as it served a purpose.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said, hovering close enough to make Harry uncomfortable, "what do we have here?" Snape, of course, had to pause and inspect every detail of his potion, taking the stirrer to test the consistency, sniffing at the scent, and eyeballing the color. "A little off as usual," Snape remarked. "One point from Gryffindor."

Next to Harry, Hermione automatically stiffened and her hand floated above the cauldron with the ingredient they should add next, waiting. Snape turned to her and barked, "What do you think you're doing Ms. Granger? Add the gillyweed now!"

Harry watched Hermione flinch, but she didn't drop the gillyweed in and cause the potion to be unsettled by the sudden addition. Instead she broke the gillyweed in her hand into little pieces and slipping it into the potion, causing their cauldron to bubble a bit with the addition. Other than that, their potion was coming along perfectly—they knew it and Snape certainly did. He just didn't want to admit it.

The vendetta Snape had against the marauders was getting old, even if Harry understood the reason why. Harry had wanted so badly to just hate Snape as much as his professor hated him, but his mum had always taught him to look at both sides of an issue and Harry just felt a strange pity for Snape and the hatred he couldn't get past. That didn't mean Snape didn't get unerneath his skin. Snape did, but that didn't bother him as much as Snape signaling out Hermione because of him. Snape could nitpick at him all he wanted, but why did he have to cause problems for Hermione too?

Harry gritted his teeth and took a deep breath. He would not yell like he had last year at Snape. That would only make things worse and that was exactly what Snape wanted. He wanted confirmation that Harry was the carbon copy of James Potter. Well, sorry Snape, you aren't going to get what you want. And – couldn't he see that despite his hair and his face, he was his mum's son?

"Barely passable," Snape said after the potion had settled. "You will need to keep stirring this potion for a half hour before bottling it. Do you understand?"

Hermione nodded, her eyes glued to the potion, and she said, "Yes, Professor."

When Snape no longer had his attention directed at their table, Harry touched Hermione gently on the shoulder. She turned to him and he gave her a small smile. She smiled back at him and continued stirring the potion clockwise, waiting. Harry kept his sigh to himself and wished once again that life didn't have to be so unfair.

...

Class without Hermione always made Harry a little edgy, even in his fifth year and even when it was Transfiguration because he never quite knew who he would end up sitting next to. It didn't help either that he had dragged his feet to class after walking Hermione to Ancient Runes and promising that he'd be on time to his class. He wasn't late, but he skived by just his skin when he stepped into classroom when the bells chimed the start of class. His only choice was to sit besides Millicent Bulstrode. Harry dropped himself into the chair and folded his hands neatly in front of him, his eyes at the front where Professor McGonagall leapt off her desk and into human form.

"Welcome again to Transfiguration," she said, surveying the mixed class—from all four houses as all their classes were—with her sharp eyes and Harry was certain her gaze fell on him a tad longer than any other student. "I am sure many of you will be surprise at how much more work you will be getting this year, but remember your OWLs are coming up this year and it is best to start preparations early. So expect everything to get that much more difficult… and with that, please take your wands out. I will be testing which students have been practicing their Transfiguration over the summer as I recommended."

Harry slid his eyes carefully to survey the room and noted that many of the Ravenclaws in the classroom didn't look the least bit nervous, but it figures that they would have studied what a professor recommended. They probably studied over the summer regardless if it was suggested. Quite a few of the Hufflepuffs looked a little nervy as did a few Gryffindors. The Slytherins looked collected as they often did. If there was one thing that Harry had to admire about them was that they usually weren't frazzled in the face of the unexpected. It was something to strive and mimic, especially when it concealed weakness.

"Why don't we start with you," McGonagall said, placing a small block of wood before Susan Bones. "Transfigure this into a rat."

Susan tapped her wand against the block and whispered the spell that would change a non-living object into a living creature, causing a golden glow around the block until it shuddered out of existence, leaving only a wooden rat figurine behind—clearly not alive. McGonagall pursed her lips together and waved her wand over the figurine and reversed Susan's spell. She then raised her gaze and scanned the classroom, saying, "Now can anyone demonstrate how to do this spell, which I may delicately add was a part of your assigned work over the summer holidays?"

No one raised their hand to volunteer, not even the Ravenclaws. It was a difficult spell and Harry wasn't even sure he could pull it off and he had gotten quite a bit of tutoring this summer on Transfiguration from Sirius. For some reason his godfather was overly earnest about him becoming an Animagus before the marauders did. The only flaw to Sirius' plan was that he kept forgetting Harry took more after his mum than his dad. Transfiguration was not one of his best subjects.

"Mr. Potter," McGonagall said, turning to him with her stern eyes, much to his dread, "would you demonstrate this spell?"

Harry nodded and stood up from his seat and pointed his wand at the block of wood McGonagall had placed in his desk. He took a deep breath, remembering that he needed to keep his wrist firm as he said the incantation: "Rattusifors!"

He sighed with relief when he felt his magic surge into the block of wood from his wand, surrounding it and shaping it into the form of a rat. He had not done any worse than Bones had, at least the wood was turning into the proper shape. Harry kept staring at the wooden block, hoping fervently that it would be alive and his eyes widened with surprise when he heard the rat squeak before it scurried off the table.

"Petrificus Totalus!" McGonagall exclaimed, freezing the rat before it could escape. She then floated the rat up and lightly set it down on the front table. Harry glanced up and saw that she was looking at him through speculative eyes, but the regard was contemplative rather than concerned. "Now class," she remarked, "that is how you perform a transfiguration spell. Mr. Potter has obviously done his recommended summer coursework."

Harry heard a few grumblings, mainly from the Gryffindors that he was showing off. It hurt to hear that from his fellow housemates, but he supposed it was somewhat understandable considering what had happened three years ago… and yet it had been three years already. Could they not forget? Could he not be forgiven?

He stared straight ahead, not glancing at anyone, particularly not in Ron's direction. While he wanted, wished that things could go back to the way they were before, Harry knew that would never happen. How could it? What had happened was awful and the damage was irreversible. A life had been taken, and it would never return.

Hermione was the only friend he had that had never once doubted him, never once turned her back on him and if she was the only friend he would have – that would be enough. He would rather take one good and true friend than a hundred of friends that would turn their backs on him at the slightest hint of something awry. If it were not for her and for his parents, Harry knew that life would be exceedingly difficult and unpleasant. He was so very lucky to have them in his life and no matter how the rest of the wizarding world viewed him… as long as they were there, it was nothing.

He could stand anything as long as they were there.

To be continued...

Released on April 25, 2009.