Chapter 58: The Castle He Came Home To

For the next two months, Hogwarts was almost peaceful. Not entirely, of course. Hogwarts had never been entirely peaceful, and anyone who expected it to be had clearly never encountered Peeves, a misfired Transfiguration spell, or a first-year attempting to sneak a live toad into the Great Hall. But classes continued. Homework accumulated. Quidditch practices took place in increasingly unpleasant weather. Students complained about examinations that were still months away, and the house-elves continued producing enough food to feed an army.

And, rather unexpectedly, people kept falling in love. Harry Potter and Victoria Crabbe were now such a familiar sight that students had largely stopped turning to stare when they walked through the corridors holding hands. Georgina Goyle continued accompanying Adrian Selwyn whenever he practised his guitar, although she had finally admitted that there were limits to how many times she could listen to the same eight notes.

Theodore Nott and Pansy Parkinson had become inseparable, though Pansy still insisted that they were merely spending time together. Nobody believed her. Least of all Theodore. And Draconia Malfoy had developed the habit of disappearing on certain authorised weekends, returning to Hogwarts with a smile she made very little effort to conceal. Her friends had learned not to interrogate her immediately. They waited at least five minutes. Sometimes ten. It was a remarkable display of restraint.

The Hogwarts Dance Club had also become a permanent fixture.

Professor Flitwick had arranged for the students to use a larger, otherwise neglected room on the fifth floor. He had personally inspected Adrian’s equipment, improved the enchantments, and installed a soundproofing charm powerful enough to withstand even the most enthusiastic performances of Queen.

He had also added a small precaution. If the music exceeded a certain volume, the speakers politely announced, in Flitwick’s own voice, A little quieter, please. The first time this happened, the entire room had dissolved into laughter. The second time, Seamus Finnigan had attempted to argue with the speakers. By the third, everyone simply turned the volume down. Hermione had drawn up a schedule, organised a committee, and established rules concerning equipment, refreshments, and cleaning. Ron had read the rules.

Then he’d looked at Harry.

“She’s managed to give dancing homework.”

Harry had laughed.

“At least there aren’t any essays.”

“Yet.”

The club now met twice a week, sometimes on Saturdays, and drew twenty or thirty students on a busy evening.

There were arguments about Queen and Dire Straits, Oasis and Blur, Nirvana and Green Day. A Ravenclaw fifth-year had brought in a collection of Beatles albums belonging to her father, while several Hufflepuffs had introduced the others to artists Adrian had never heard of.

Some songs made everyone jump about. Others brought couples together. And some became favourites for reasons nobody could quite explain. Bryan Adams’s Heaven was one of those. Whenever it played, Harry looked for Victoria. Adrian looked for Georgina. Theodore looked for Pansy. And Draconia, if she happened to be there, usually sat near a window with a small, private smile. The changes were not limited to the dance floor. Students who had previously avoided one another were beginning to talk in the corridors.

A Slytherin boy borrowed a Muggle music magazine from a Ravenclaw. A Gryffindor girl helped a Hufflepuff and a Slytherin prepare for a Charms examination. Blaise Zabini was overheard discussing the relative merits of Oasis albums with Dean Thomas, an argument that lasted nearly twenty minutes and ended with neither conceding anything. Even Professor Snape had noticed. He had also noticed that several of his Slytherins were spending less time tormenting younger students. He did not comment on this development.

He merely continued deducting points whenever someone failed to prepare a potion correctly. Some things, after all, remained reassuringly unchanged. The winter weather arrived in earnest. Snow settled across the grounds, the lake froze at its edges, and students hurried between buildings wrapped in scarves and cloaks. Adrian had finally learned to play the opening of Lady Writer at something approaching its proper speed. He was extremely proud of this achievement.

Georgina was proud of him too, although she had begun encouraging him to learn the remainder of the song.

“One thing at a time,” Adrian protested.

“You’ve been playing the beginning for weeks.”

“It’s a difficult beginning.”

“I know, darling.”

She kissed his cheek.

“But eventually people might want to hear what happens next.”

“You’re a cruel woman.”

“Terribly.”

Then she kissed him again. He decided he could endure the cruelty. Draconia continued speaking to Alex whenever possible. Their relationship had become comfortable in a way she had never expected. They still enjoyed their dates, of course, and Alex continued finding small places he thought she might like. But increasingly, the ordinary conversations mattered just as much. He told her about his schoolwork, his plans for the future, and a disastrous attempt to cook dinner for his family.